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Yesterday I spent two hours flattening figs with a meat mallet. This might sound like a great stress relief activity, but unfortunately I was not hammering them into flatness, partly because Andy was trying to sleep, but partly because figs seem strangely resistant to being hammered, and require instead a persistent, steady pressure. I was making Burnia de Higos, which is a kind of preserve of figs with roses. The Burnia part is the name of the vessel the figs are put into, so roughly translated the name means Pot o' Figs.

I am starting to get more and more into feast brain mode. The other night I had the usual dream I have before feasts, in which I turn up to the feast hall only to gradually realise that I have completely forgotten to buy any food. This was a slight variation, in which the feast was taking place at Rowany Festival, and I had only forgotten to buy half the food.

Today I dug compost into the vegetable garden and planted tomatoes, capsicums, melons and basil.

And tomorrow I am taking Erin and Liam to see Up.

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