i shopped from fantasy this cheery ramadan afternoon – i suspect i still have a long way to go before they give me free groceries. i’d be ok with beechworth honey jars though. happy to settle, fantasy.

and man, the place has the sweetest display of cheeses. they even have stilton and some hard cheese that costs 300+ rufiyaa per 100g. but i’m after our trusty old pal parmesan.

‘we’ve run out,’ says the shop assistant a tad too joyfully. all this cheese and they don’t have the ONE THING that counts? goddamn. i settle on a sharp cheddar and make my exit.

so here i am. i grate the cheese, slice a whole head of garlic (and who doesn’t like good head?), do the mushrooms (shimeji and champignon) and put the fettuccinne in a pot of boiling water.

making pasta isn’t too hard but making good pasta takes some skill. i’m not someone who does things precisely, i like to have an element of chaos in what i do. today, i want to eat a fuckload of mushrooms with my fettuccine.

the sauteing mushrooms bring to mind a childhood memory – i fell into a well, and after realising i was unharmed, inhaled that pungent, earthy scent of moss and well-water, smells so delicious and new, i forgot to cry. i made a little game for myself down there (DM if you’d like to play this game), and nobody knew where i was for hours.

my mushrooms are almost done. i add the garlic. and i realise my mistake! there is no room for the garlic to brown in the pan because the mushrooms have taken over. i keep the garlic a bit longer but no luck. bah! i add the cream and the spinach and stir for a while, mourning the loss. what a WASTE of GOOD head.

later, i have a taste. and man. something’s missin’.

sampaafulhu arrives right on time.

‘well, well, well,’ she says. ‘what have we here. i smell some cream in the house.’

‘here,’ i say, putting some pasta in a bowl. ‘it’s not my best work.’

she has some without cheese.

‘DEFINITELY not your best work,’ she says. ‘it needs something.’

‘put some cheese in it,’ i tell her.

she takes a bite again with grated cheddar.

‘hmm. not too bad. but the garlic -’

‘don’t you think i KNOW about the garlic? goddamit. I KNOW, OK? I know i FUCKED UP with the GARLIC. i BOTCHED it. it’s RUINED, OK? DAMMIT.’ the words gush out of me in a mad torrent, blindsiding poor sampaafulhu.

‘my god man, calm the fuck down!’

‘i’m sorry,’ i say, regretting everything and sinking into the sofa. ‘really, sorry, it’s just…i can’t believe…i’ve fucked up. and with all those fancy mushrooms.’

‘you know,’ says sampaafulhu sitting next to me and chewing a forkful. ‘the mushrooms are pretty good really. it’s just that the cream needs more flavour but i suppose the cheese makes up for that.’

i nod. i’ll get over it in a bit but for now all i feel is blackness and pain, right here in my chest, like a cold hand squeezing my heart. and i realise i am panting like i’ve carried a washing machine up five flights of stairs. oh god! black TV, brown sofa, blue bottle, brown shoes…