My son cooked for us and told me to stay out of the kitchen. Imagine, in my own house. I stood near the door anyway until my wife took me away. Food was good, different seasoning from mine but good. I almost said that first, the difference, then saw him waiting with the spoon in hand and said I liked it. He looked relieved. Felt proud and a little unnecessary, both things. When he asked me afterwards about the pan getting too hot I was very happy to explain, perhaps too much. He had made one meal and I started giving seventeen years of Sharjah. My wife cleared her throat. Sheri, I stopped before the second restaurant.

For a small place on the canal road I keep drawing ten tables and a big kitchen, then there is no room left for washing or storage. Very convenient restaurant, everything cooks and nothing becomes dirty. My wife looked at the drawing and asked where people wait when it rains. Another missing thing. I can manage a busy service but planning the whole building is different. Started again with a smaller menu written beside it. If every dish needs something separate, the room will never be enough. I have not decided to open anything yet. Still, this second drawing looks more like a place someone could work in, not only a place I could talk about.

Monday off. Went slowly by the canal after breakfast instead of taking scooter. At first my feet felt heavy, as if I was still standing in kitchen shoes, but walking was better than standing in one place. There was shade along one side and breeze coming over the water. I sat there for some time. No heat from the tawa on my face, no boy calling me to taste something. At home I washed and changed into a loose shirt. The waistband had been pressing after breakfast and I had not noticed. Felt sleepy in a good way. My wife moved the newspaper from my chair without asking, she knows this programme very well.