I thought I'd just ring the funeral company to find the details of Wilf's funeral. I was astounded to discover it is this morning. That decides me. We're not going. I'm not rushing to get changed in order to get to the crem in time. I don't think the Fox will appreciate the idea either, so I'm not even letting him know the details. I will simply think of Wilf & his wife, now widow, at the appropriate time.
It certainly is quick! Wilf only died on Friday. The newspaper didn't officially come out until yesterday.
It is probably as well. I always find the wait between a death & the subsequent funeral a strange period of being in limbo, a time when life is on hold. It's difficult to get on with the job of adjusting to life without the deceased. It must be all the worse for someone like Wilf's widow. They had been married over 50 years. I'm glad she hasn't had to face a long wait.
It's once more a suitably wet & dark day. I had planned to get out the Mean Machine (my electric scooter), for the first time since we got back from Italy in early October, & venture down the prom to the fish shop for something for dinner. That will have to wait until this afternoon when I can go in the dry in the car.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Changing tastes
It was with some anxiety that I started yesterday's meal on Monday. It was with even more trepidation that I sat down to eat it. What, might you ask, did she make? Butter beans. I was confident enough about the grilled Cumberland & black pudding sausages & chips they were to accompany. They were sure to be okay. The worry was the butter beans. I've never cooked them before.
There is a reason for this. I still shudder at the memory of butter beans from school lunches. The Fox had similar memories. Unlike most foods the school dinner ladies massacred, butter beans was not something my mother ever did at home. Custard, gravy, mashed potatoes, rice & tapioca puds I knew didn't have to come with lumps. They didn't at home. Equally I knew cabbage didn't have to come with purple fluff mixed in, or hard boiled eggs with a nasty tasting grey-green edge to the yolks, or even sprouts soggy. Liver didn't have to taste of leather with rubbery tubes sticking out. No. my Mum redeemed all these foods in my eyes.
But butter beans have remained an anathema. I'm not sure what put me off most, the tough papery skins or the gritty flavourless inside. But I decided the time had come to put this childhood aversion to one side & have another go. They may just be better than I feared. And just maybe, cooked in the right way they would be edible, even delicious. Little B, our recently deceased friend, used to regularly buy them, tinned, as a bit of a treat for him & Mrs B when she went to dine with him. And I shuddered every time he told us. Then this summer, PD came back from Crete enthusing about a dish of butter beans in a tomato sauce he'd had on his holiday. I'd found a Greek recipe for just such I thing so I thought I'd try it yesterday.
We were somewhat astounded by just how much water the dried beans took up. Overnight, while they soaked, we had to fill them up with yet more water several times. I nervously tasted them when I'd cooked them to check they were soft. I still wasn't very keen. Then I made the tomato & onion sauce & cooked them further. I'm surprised to say we both really rather enjoyed them. The handful of fresh mint in the mix really lifted them. They're still not a veg we would want to often but once in a while they would make a pleasant change.
This is definitely not a meal I would have had a few years ago. Even sausages I wouldn't eat. I always loved the flavour, just couldn't keep them down. Even now I would never eat them out unless I knew the source. I still have difficulty with some varieties, even from our regular source. As for butter beans - forget it.
There is a reason for this. I still shudder at the memory of butter beans from school lunches. The Fox had similar memories. Unlike most foods the school dinner ladies massacred, butter beans was not something my mother ever did at home. Custard, gravy, mashed potatoes, rice & tapioca puds I knew didn't have to come with lumps. They didn't at home. Equally I knew cabbage didn't have to come with purple fluff mixed in, or hard boiled eggs with a nasty tasting grey-green edge to the yolks, or even sprouts soggy. Liver didn't have to taste of leather with rubbery tubes sticking out. No. my Mum redeemed all these foods in my eyes.
But butter beans have remained an anathema. I'm not sure what put me off most, the tough papery skins or the gritty flavourless inside. But I decided the time had come to put this childhood aversion to one side & have another go. They may just be better than I feared. And just maybe, cooked in the right way they would be edible, even delicious. Little B, our recently deceased friend, used to regularly buy them, tinned, as a bit of a treat for him & Mrs B when she went to dine with him. And I shuddered every time he told us. Then this summer, PD came back from Crete enthusing about a dish of butter beans in a tomato sauce he'd had on his holiday. I'd found a Greek recipe for just such I thing so I thought I'd try it yesterday.
We were somewhat astounded by just how much water the dried beans took up. Overnight, while they soaked, we had to fill them up with yet more water several times. I nervously tasted them when I'd cooked them to check they were soft. I still wasn't very keen. Then I made the tomato & onion sauce & cooked them further. I'm surprised to say we both really rather enjoyed them. The handful of fresh mint in the mix really lifted them. They're still not a veg we would want to often but once in a while they would make a pleasant change.
This is definitely not a meal I would have had a few years ago. Even sausages I wouldn't eat. I always loved the flavour, just couldn't keep them down. Even now I would never eat them out unless I knew the source. I still have difficulty with some varieties, even from our regular source. As for butter beans - forget it.
More bad news
Last night, our day took another nose dive. I had a glance through our local paper to see that yet another friend had died, another ex-member of Geriatrics' Corner. It is not entirely surprising. Wilf was 82 when he died. He hadn't looked well for some time. Very shaky on his legs. There was some suspicion he was starting with dementia when he & his wife ceased coming along to the Pub. Whether or not this was the case he didn't look well. Whenever I went along the prom in my electric scooter I would look up towards their flat & think of them both.
We don't know whether to go to the funeral. The Fox's immediate reaction is that he just can't face yet another funeral. It would be the 6th of the year. We're beginning to think we live at the crem. It's just too many in a year.
I, on the other hand, feel we should go, to give a little support to his widow. We'll see how we're feeling nearer the time. Meanwhile we think we'll send a card. At least then, if we don't go, his widow will know that we are thinking of her & had appreciated Wilf.
We don't know whether to go to the funeral. The Fox's immediate reaction is that he just can't face yet another funeral. It would be the 6th of the year. We're beginning to think we live at the crem. It's just too many in a year.
I, on the other hand, feel we should go, to give a little support to his widow. We'll see how we're feeling nearer the time. Meanwhile we think we'll send a card. At least then, if we don't go, his widow will know that we are thinking of her & had appreciated Wilf.
Monday, 30 November 2009
Organising diners
Today we're having another surprise, & very welcome, visitor - the sun. It comes as a shock to get up to blue skies & a dry patio floor. I've hastily filled up all the bird feeders. You never know who might come along.
I'm still trying to sort out the orders for the Xmas meal. Last year there were about 17 of us. Our numbers seem greatly depleted by the demise of three of us & the worsening health of others. This year there will be only 11.
It never ceases to amaze me how difficult this sorting out precise orders can be. We set the date for the meal before we went off to Italy in September. When we came back I told everyone I would be round for menu choices at the end of November, after the wedding. Menus were available in the Pub all that time.
Some people still haven't decided, or they've told me one thing then rung up as they've changed their minds. Then there are the souls who can't find anything on the special Christmas menu they fancy - there's a choice of 5 starters, 6 main courses, 4 puds - so could they have something off the normal menu? There's special requests. Battered fish, all batter, with 6 chips & half a spoonful of peas. For another thin chips, not the thick chips on the menu. So it goes on. Still I've just the one person to give me her decision & we've arranged to meet her at the Pub this afternoon. Then the orders will go in & they'll just have to stick with whatever they've agreed on.
Mind you, I'll keep a copy of the orders for myself. Past experience has taught me that by the time of the meal, they will all have forgotten what they ordered anyway! At least that way everyone gets what they ordered, like it or not.
I'm still trying to sort out the orders for the Xmas meal. Last year there were about 17 of us. Our numbers seem greatly depleted by the demise of three of us & the worsening health of others. This year there will be only 11.
It never ceases to amaze me how difficult this sorting out precise orders can be. We set the date for the meal before we went off to Italy in September. When we came back I told everyone I would be round for menu choices at the end of November, after the wedding. Menus were available in the Pub all that time.
Some people still haven't decided, or they've told me one thing then rung up as they've changed their minds. Then there are the souls who can't find anything on the special Christmas menu they fancy - there's a choice of 5 starters, 6 main courses, 4 puds - so could they have something off the normal menu? There's special requests. Battered fish, all batter, with 6 chips & half a spoonful of peas. For another thin chips, not the thick chips on the menu. So it goes on. Still I've just the one person to give me her decision & we've arranged to meet her at the Pub this afternoon. Then the orders will go in & they'll just have to stick with whatever they've agreed on.
Mind you, I'll keep a copy of the orders for myself. Past experience has taught me that by the time of the meal, they will all have forgotten what they ordered anyway! At least that way everyone gets what they ordered, like it or not.
Sunday, 29 November 2009
An unexpected visitor
Yesterday I had a surprise. I happened to look out of the kitchen window and was surprised to see an unusual, for us, avian visitor. I didn't have my glasses on. I'm rather short-sighted so everything was a bit of a blur. Nonetheless the jaunty gait of this bird searching the patio floor for food was unmistakable. A wagtail. At first I assumed it was a pied wagtail as they are fairly numerous around here. They rarely visit our garden, seeming to prefer the nearby prom. But then this bird turned round. His breast was dazzling yellow, making the grey of his back all the more striking. A grey wagtail. We had one visit us once several years ago but it never returned. I hope this one comes again.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Changed times
I'm currently reading a novel by Michael Gilbert. It's just a light thriller written in the 1960s. I probably read it in the 70s but since then Michael Gilbert as an author has disappeared into the back recesses of my mind. Anyhow, I fancied a new book after a rather turgid read, just something light, a bit of a distraction before tackling anything more serious for a bit. I scoured the bookshelves & came across this book.
I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying. It's written in a style that is rather old-fashioned these days. There's an articulacy & lyricism in the use of language that is enchanting. There are sections of description that fill your mind with pictures & yet don't distract from the pace of the action. A real tonic. I can see I'll be looking out once more for his books.
Some of the descriptions are still valid today. This novel is set in Italy. At one point an Englishman comments about the difference in attitude to driving between the English & the Italian."As a nation we are law-abiding, intolerant, and insistent on priorities. One of the results of this is our morbid passion for queueing. We become bad-tempered if another driver interferes with those priorities by, say, cutting in, or jumping the lights, or pulling out into the wrong lane, even is - get out of my way you cross-eyed cow. Europeans, on the other hand, and more particularly the Italians, regard driving as a sport. Provided the referee isn't looking, you can cheat and bluff to the limit. See that taxi? He thinks I'm going to give way, but I'm not. But you must be cheerful about it, and good tempered when your bluff's called. Molte grazie, signore." Our recent trip to Italy proved to us that this is still very much the Italian attitude to driving, only accompanied a constant sounding of the horn.
We've not found it nearly as bad in other European countries. In France there is a certain macho element, always wanting to be first to move off when the lights turn to green. But they do wait for the lights to turn to green & they happily accept it if you don't want to join in the game. They will give way & show lane discipline like any civilised nation. And rarely do they honk their horns. A flash of lights maybe to warn you there's a police speed trap round the corner, but that's it.
I can't tell you how much I'm enjoying. It's written in a style that is rather old-fashioned these days. There's an articulacy & lyricism in the use of language that is enchanting. There are sections of description that fill your mind with pictures & yet don't distract from the pace of the action. A real tonic. I can see I'll be looking out once more for his books.
Some of the descriptions are still valid today. This novel is set in Italy. At one point an Englishman comments about the difference in attitude to driving between the English & the Italian."As a nation we are law-abiding, intolerant, and insistent on priorities. One of the results of this is our morbid passion for queueing. We become bad-tempered if another driver interferes with those priorities by, say, cutting in, or jumping the lights, or pulling out into the wrong lane, even is - get out of my way you cross-eyed cow. Europeans, on the other hand, and more particularly the Italians, regard driving as a sport. Provided the referee isn't looking, you can cheat and bluff to the limit. See that taxi? He thinks I'm going to give way, but I'm not. But you must be cheerful about it, and good tempered when your bluff's called. Molte grazie, signore." Our recent trip to Italy proved to us that this is still very much the Italian attitude to driving, only accompanied a constant sounding of the horn.
We've not found it nearly as bad in other European countries. In France there is a certain macho element, always wanting to be first to move off when the lights turn to green. But they do wait for the lights to turn to green & they happily accept it if you don't want to join in the game. They will give way & show lane discipline like any civilised nation. And rarely do they honk their horns. A flash of lights maybe to warn you there's a police speed trap round the corner, but that's it.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Back to the Pub
We're off to the Pub today. We haven't been since Monday. It seems strange not to have been for a while. It's actually been a pleasure to do a few different things for a change.
The reasons for going are twofold, apart from the pleasure of seeing friends again. The first is we're off to the butchers for one of his flavoursome chickens for tomorrow. We pass the Pub on the way back from there.
Secondly I'm hoping to get the orders for our Christmas dinner. We have one every year for members of Geriatrics' Corner. This year our numbers seem rather depleted with the demise of Little B, MK & Dave C. I'm sure they will all be remembered with love & missed. I'm not sure how I ended up getting roped into organised the meal but I seem to have landed the job for the last few years. I've already got some of the orders. Friday is usually the day of the best turn-out so I'm hoping to get most of the rest today. Any I don't get, I'll phone round over the weekend.
At least today we seem to be having some bright sunny spells between the heavy downpours. I just hope the rain stops soon. I feel this must have been not just one of the, but, the wettest November ever. Let's hope December is better.
The reasons for going are twofold, apart from the pleasure of seeing friends again. The first is we're off to the butchers for one of his flavoursome chickens for tomorrow. We pass the Pub on the way back from there.
Secondly I'm hoping to get the orders for our Christmas dinner. We have one every year for members of Geriatrics' Corner. This year our numbers seem rather depleted with the demise of Little B, MK & Dave C. I'm sure they will all be remembered with love & missed. I'm not sure how I ended up getting roped into organised the meal but I seem to have landed the job for the last few years. I've already got some of the orders. Friday is usually the day of the best turn-out so I'm hoping to get most of the rest today. Any I don't get, I'll phone round over the weekend.
At least today we seem to be having some bright sunny spells between the heavy downpours. I just hope the rain stops soon. I feel this must have been not just one of the, but, the wettest November ever. Let's hope December is better.
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