There was a red sky this morning that flared through the black silhouette of the trees on the other side of the road. There was only a brief few seconds to admire it between opening the curtains having got dressed and going downstairs to get into the car and off to work.

By the time we had got to the flyover leading from Birkenhead to the tunnel entrance the bright flare of pink had diminished to a pale orange cloud that balled up over the sheds of Cammell Laird. Despite the warning no bad came of the day and the skies remained dry and clear although a bitter cold took hold in the early evening.

This evening I helped with the cooking and made a pesto sauce to go with half inch cubes of potato roasted in oil until crisp and pasta cooked for its last fee minutes with half a shredded cabbage. I made the pesto in the heavy stone pestle and mortar; crushing the garlic with rock salt to a paste followed by the handfuls of basil leaves and pine nuts. Once that was thick slurry I poured in olive oil to loosen and then thickened it up again with parmesan.

After an afternoon being told how to sell myself there was some satisfaction to be had in pounding the sauce together.

This kids all complained it tasted too sharply of garlic. No doubt we will all smell tomorrow.