Meteorology and computer programming don't always provide a huge amount of creative freedom, so he finds it instead in cooking. Saturday and Sunday mornings are given to breakfasts that poncy inner-city cafes can only dream of and the coffees he makes from scratch seven days a week are better than anything you'd perch on a teeny tiny metal outdoor table in the freezing sunshine dressed in trendy black designer gear and pay four bucks the privilege for.
Even on a 'slack' weekend brekky day he treats Sapphire and myself to ricotta hotcakes with warm berries or a spinach and fetta tart like this one:
"Erm, about half a cup of minced stuff, I think. Heh Heh, I mistook it for tomato paste, a common mistake. Want another glass of water?"
"Um, let's just say that Mum found the band-aid she thought had slipped off when she was showering."