Basil in winter?

I haven't blogged because nothing has happened.  Nothing of note, anyway.  All I have to offer you are little vignettes, such as today, when I decided to call in at a village shop for the first time.  The village in question, which shall remain nameless and doesn't even deserve a pseudonym, is somewhere I drive through on my way to work, and for some reason I decided to call in there today and buy a basil plant.  I should have known from the door, which looked like an ordinary house door with a knocker and a bell, that a brightly-lit, well-stocked supermarket would not be what was waiting behind it.  The door creaked in a cliched way as I opened it and peered inside.  A few wrinkled oranges, the ubiquitous sausages, a dusty linoleum floor.  Someone appeared out of the gloom and made me jump.  Can I help you, it, I mean she, enquired.  Freaked out, I tried to escape but it was no good.  I'm looking for some basil, actually, I stuttered.  Ha!  We don't sell 'things like that' here, she said.  No call for it.  Especially not in winter.  Silly me, wanting basil in winter!  (And it isn't even winter yet.) When will I ever learn?

We ate our tortellini, without the basil, and Hedda had sausages.  Titus made a big show of not eating the latter, as he has recently been talking about being a vegetarian again. According to him, he 'wanted to, but wasn't allowed' - tosh!  I told him he could when he was ready.  He swore blind that he was ready this time.  The test came this afternoon after Christmas shopping in Garmisch.  We were on our way to Burger King and the girls were licking their lips in anticipation of a big fat juicy burger.  'I shall have fries and ketchup ONLY' declared Titus.  Just outside the restaurant, he tugged on my coat.  'I am not a vegetarian yet, actually, Mummy, sorry' he said.  And proceeded to enjoy six chicken nuggets.  His justification was that they look nothing like a hen.  Interesting, as not many cuts of meat resemble the animal from which they derive, but I know what he means.  It is a well-known fact that there are 38 different ingredients in a single chicken nugget, although admittedly this refers to McDonald's ones.  Who knows - perhaps the BK nuggets only have 16, or maybe a grand total of 42?