Sunday 30 November 2008

It's another fabulous morning - all white. Today everything is covered in a hard white crust of frost. No fog today, just brilliant blue skies. Just after 9am I venture into the garden to feed the birds. I look at the thermometer attached to the shed wall, -12C. Brr. I go to put the empty bit of foil in the rubbish bin. It's impossible to open it. The lid is frozen down. Even now, nearly noon, the world remains white. The windscreen of our car is just a sheet of ice. I had intended to go to church but this is too cold for me to venture out in the Mean Machine, my electric scooter, & it's too slippery underfoot to contemplate going by car & walking sufficiently to get to & from the boot for my wheelchair. For all the cold it is beautiful though. Everything seems to gleam. Jack Frost has drawn all sorts of elaborate patterns on the bodywork of the cars in the street. The grass is bejewelled, as are the top of the hedges. Cobwebs become diamond necklaces, so delicate.

For all my enthusiasm, though, it's another day for us to stay put inside, in the warmth. Still Sunday is usually chore day so there's plenty to keep us occupied. And I'm certainly looking forward to the chilli con corned beef the Fox has promised to make for dinner tonight. A good bit of spice will be just the ticket.

Saturday 29 November 2008

Ever changing view

It's a beautiful morning, one of those days when the weather transforms the mundane world outside into one of mystery. The frost, the first real one this winter, is slowly melting. The remaining dampness intensifies the colours of stone & bark. There is also a freezing fog. It ebbs & wanes. Occasionally shrubs magically appear then disappear. You're never quite sure what you will see next, always varying. Mr Blackbird hops around disconsolately, seeking his breakfast. Sound is muffled in the cotton wool of the fog. Gorgeous. Other worldly.

Or at least gorgeous when viewed from the welcome warmth of home. Not a day for going out unnecessarily. And certainly not for driving.

Friday 28 November 2008

American novelists

We're sitting in the pub, waiting for our soup to arrive, too tired to talk much, when I hear a voice behind me.

"You should read Margaret Mitchell's novel "Gone with the Wind". I still remember the opening lines. It's the best American novel there is."

"What other American novelists are there?" asks her companion.

"There's only one other, " the voice behind me continues. "JD Salinger who wrote "Catcher in the Rye", but Margaret Mitchell is much better."

I almost splatter over the coke I'm drinking. Only one other. Immediately I think of Henry James, not one of my favourite authors, but much filmed so should be reasonably well known. As time goes on more & more names come pouring into my mind. Hemingway. Steinbeck. Raymond Chandler. Toni Morrison. Alice Walker. Dashiell Hammett. Stephen King. Mark Twain. And so the list goes on.

Over dinner in the evening, I ask the Fox which he regards as the greatest American novel. After some consideration, his answer is "Huckleberry Finn" by Mark Twain.

Which would I consider the greatest American novel? I'm not sure. It depends on my mood. I admit to a soft spot for Louisa May Alcott's "Little Women", an essential part of my childhood & still often re-read, along with "Good Wives", "Jo's Boys" & "Little Men". For more adult reading, I would go for something like Hemingway's "The Old Man & the Sea", or one of Steinbeck's novels, either "Grapes of Wrath" or "East of Eden".

I can certainly think of more than just two American novelists. How about Fenimore Cooper, Scott Fitzgerald, John Grisham, Tom Clancy, Patricia Highsmith ..................

Thursday 27 November 2008

Food plans

The venison is plopping away today. We're having a venison pie for a change today.

We're off to the Farmers' Market later today. I'm not quite sure where we will put our purchases. The freezer's pretty full since we saw a goose at less than £20 & bought it. It takes up a lot of space but it should be quite a treat for the festive season ahead.

I've just been working on my next shopping list - the Christmas one. I usually plan 7 days of food, but the meals usually last a fortnight by the time we've eaten out a time or two. I often buy quantities that are monetarily efficient. By this I mean I'll buy a brace of pheasant even if I only plan to use one immediately, but the price per bird is cheaper than if I bought just the one bird. It means there's always something extra in the freezer if we need an extra meal.

December seems to be going to be a busy month for eating out. 2 meals with members of Geriatrics' Corner are already planned. Then we're eating
out on Christmas Day with MK & Helen, saving us all the effort of cooking & washing up much that day. We'll maybe get a bit of smoked salmon for a treat breakfast with scrambled eggs since it's a special day.

We don't do great things for Christmas - too exhausting when you're disabled or caring for a disabled person. We don't usually buy presents - too much hassle when you're trying to get round the hordes in a wheelchair. It's only the cards to get sent off, accompanied by the occasionally letter. It will soon be time to settle down to that, especially when our first meal out is next week so it would be nice to deliver the cards at the same time.

Wednesday 26 November 2008

A good afternoon

The weather's back to normal - wet & grey. But yesterday continued in the great way it began.

In the afternoon we popped over to see MK & Helen. We weren't going to stay long, but ended up there for over three hours. The conversation strayed across all sorts of topics. Portugal - a favourite holiday destination for them. Hunting & horses. Memories of all sorts. Families & friends. There was a brief lapse in the conversation as we all stopped to look out of the window across the fields to watch a flock of geese fly across the early evening sky, so magnificently streaked with pink. There were laughs & tears of joy. (It's amazing how tears & laughter go together, yet they do. Both so essential to cope the ups & downs of life.)

On the way back, we stop for a meal at the Pub. Fortunately I had put the duck breasts we were going to have in the fridge just in case we didn't feel like cooking later - something to look forward to today. A pleasing meal is had. Nothing fancy. Just fish & chips, but the beer batter is just so light & fluffy, & the haddock so fresh.

Altogether Tuesday was a very enjoyable day, sparkling in every way. And it's good to have friends to share it with too.

Tuesday 25 November 2008

A place we won't be visiting

The world is feeling pretty good today. The sun is shining. The sky blue. The air is crisp after a very cold night. The blackbirds are happily hopping around the garden, turning over leaves, as they seek their prey - hopefully that will be a slug or two less! I've rung PD - still full of the new addition to his family. I've rung MK - we're off to see him this afternoon. Things seem to be falling into place well today, for once.

Yesterday I finished reading about Penang. For those of you who don't know, Penang is a small island off the west coast of Malaya, near the Thai border. This also happens to be where my parents got married & honeymooned. My mother always spoke of it as an island paradise. So it is I'm contemplating making it a part of our holiday to the Far East.

One place I don't think we will be visiting there is the Snake Temple. Poisonous snakes are left unmolested here to slither over altars etc. Apparently the caretaker reckons all the snakes are de-fanged. He reckons you can safely have your photo taken with the snakes coiled around your neck. The book wouldn't guarantee how safe it is.

Personally I'm not even tempted to try. I'm dubious if I even want to venture into the temple, let alone have my picture taken with the snakes anywhere near me. It would be just my luck for a newcomer, still not de-fanged, to come my way. I feel it's shades of the snake pit in the Indiana Jones film, "Raiders of the Lost Ark" . That scene always sends shudders up my spine. No, the more I think about it, the less the idea of venturing to look at this temple appeals. I'm relieved to say the Fox agrees with me.

Monday 24 November 2008

Computers

I'm beginning to wonder if I should have anything to do with a computer today. As I said in my introductory blog here, I'm no computer whizz kid. Indeed there are days when I seem to act as a jinx on computers. Not only does everything I try to do on one go wrong, other people's computers start playing up too on those days. Computers at banks, building societies, call centres all go down on contact with me then.

I suppose I began to wonder today when I was asked to scan & e-mail a letter. I've never scanned anything in my life. The Fox looks after that side of things. I look at the books on the shelf. Nothing on scanning. I look at the scanner, but I'm none the wiser. That job will just have to wait for the Fox to be around to do it.

So I think I'll write my blog. I know how to do that. I do it most days, as you know. As I sign in, the computer refuses to recognise the password. I type it in again, slowly this time, to make sure I haven't mistyped it. It still doesn't accept it. Has the Fox changed the password? Surely he would have told me? I see there's a hyperlink if you've forgotten your password. I try that. I can't for the life of me understand what the site is trying to tell me. I leave this website & return later. Now it will accept the password I'd originally tried to put in & so here I am. Why it should accept now what it refused before is beyond me.

There are times I sympathise with Little B's frustration with computers. When they work well, they can be invaluable. But when they don't - the amount of hassle is unbelievable. I tell myself it's a reflection of my state, since I'm operating it, rather than the machine, but I'm not entirely convinced.... Maybe I've just spent too much time on Little B's laptop which we bought off him. Too many games of mahjong...

Sunday 23 November 2008

Thirsty work

What a morning! The phone starts ringing at 9.15am. It's my Aunt Ivy. She rings every fortnight just to keep in touch & let me know all is still well with her & hers. She's well into her 80s now, but still going around looking after the "old people" who live near by. How she has the energy I don't know!

After that I ring Dave C, a friend & member of Geriatrics' Corner. We're having a big Christmas dinner at the beginning of December. There will be 15-6 of us altogether. The Pub would like us to give menu orders, so I'm collecting the details. I only need Dave & his wife, Linda's decision, then I can put in the list. Dave promises to pop in this week to let me know. That only leaves Phil the Wizardman, the possible 16th member, but he's not decided what's happening with his girlfriend. She lives quite a distance away. At present, he's not sure who's visiting who, or if they're even seeing each other that weekend.

I then phone another couple of friends, this time from the village we lived in for many years, in order to invite them over for a meal. We haven't seen Ellie & Ged for a while. Ged had an operation on his foot earlier in the year & has been slowly re-learning how to walk. We usually meet up sometime around Xmas for a meal & a chat. The Fox fancies cooking this time. Unfortunately Ellie is out & she's in charge of their social calendar - it's always pretty full as they have several grandchildren to look after, on top of which Ellie is a lay reader & always busy visiting the sick & elderly in the area. So now we wait for her return call.

Next I try to ring MK to see how he's doing. No answer so I leave a message to say I'll ring back later. I go to start peeling the potatoes for dinner. I barely get everything out ready to begin peeling, when the phone goes. MK. He's managed by himself to press a redial button. It's great to hear his voice. He's obviously feeling much more himself. He's had enough of feeling sorry for himself & is once more ready to take on the task of living. 3 cheers! We've all been worrying about him. He stays on the phone for quite a while.

I finally get back to the potatoes & peel two when the phone goes. Yet another friend from where we used to live. Another long chat. She just thought she hadn't spoken to me for a while. Life for her has changed in recent years, as her husband has taken early retirement due to ill-health. He was a ship's engineer, regularly at sea on the ferries to the Isle of Man. Unfortunately his back will take no more of the lifting & straining involved. Luckily, now he's ceased work & can take life easier, his back has ceased to be the big problem it used to be. He seems to have settled down to his life of leisure & she has adjusted to having him at home all the time.

I finally get the spuds done. I look at my watch. It's already 12.15pm. That means I've been on the phone for 3 hours, virtually non-stop. No wonder I'm so thirsty!

Friday 21 November 2008

Migraine

Be warned. This blog may stop at any moment, even mid-sentence.

If you read the Fox's blog for Wednesday, you'll realise I've been having a migraine problem just lately. The first attack hit Friday teatime. The Fox had to cook dinner, hence the delay with the Quiche a la Sardine.

The second came yesterday. We were just about to go off to the Pub. We had arranged to buy Little B's new laptop - he's given up in despair with it, more hassle in his life than he needs. Then once more my eyes went off. The Fox went alone while I lay down in the bedroom, curtains drawn, eyes closed.

This morning I woke still feeling a bit weary but not too bad. By the time I'd had my breakfast, my eyes were once more playing up. Another lie down. I've finally manage to bone the pheasant for today & get it plopping away in the oven to be warmed up this evening.

For me migraines take the form of flashing bright lights, a bit like the exploding showers of lights from fireworks. Part images occur. So I'll see the lamp on a street lamp-post. I'll see the ground. But I won't see the post holding up the lamp. If I try to focus through the flashing lights, a terrific headache results. The only thing that helps is to shut my eyes for a while, preferably in a dark room, and wait for it to pass, hopefully after an hour or two.

The cause I have no idea. Usually they occur when I've been very stressed & I start to let go, but at the moment I'm not aware of any change in my stress levels to cause this reaction. Still I know it will probably only last a few days, then I won't have another attack for several years.

But at the moment I'm left with a deep sense of insecurity. I half expect my eyes to play up again at any moment. I'm anxious about using sharp knives or driving in case an attack occurs again.There are no signs of just when an attack will begin. I just start losing the image before my very eyes.

Thursday 20 November 2008

Less is more

We finally got round to having the Quiche a la Sardine last night.

As I near the end I comment to the Fox, "It's strange. I know I put in the extra sardine & tomato & yet this tastes like there's less in it."

The Fox looks relieved. Not wanting to upset me, he hadn't wanted to say anything, but now he feels free to readily agree. The quiche looked great with the silvery fish arranged as a star in the the golden, well risen egg custard but the flavour just wasn't there.

I have to confess I've long said that my old Sardine & Tomato Flan recipe tastes better with the quantities stated unless I double everything when we have guests & so need more flan generally. Friends pull my leg when I tell them I make this excellent flan for the two of us with half a tin of sardines & half a tomato, but I've continued to resist the urge to increase the quantity of fish or tomato.

I'm still trying to solve the mystery of why this should be. After all, it seems logical that if there's more in it, the flan should be tastier. In this instance I think it's partially because the quiche also demanded cheese, which the flan does not. I've noticed before now that too much cheese in a dish can neutralise the flavour, so maybe that's the problem. In my usual flan, the tomato slices are put on top of the sardines, whereas in the quiche they were put below the sardines. Perhaps that little bit of caramelisation from being on top helps to bring out the juiciness & flavour of the tomato. Maybe it's that the egg custard is lighter in the flan & so maybe the flavour of the sardines & tomato sings out more - there was some cornflour & extra egg in the quiche than the flan making the custard a bit thicker & richer.

Whatever the reason it's definitely a case of less tasting more. I'll be keeping my old flan recipe & throwing out the new quiche recipe. Maybe I should just accept the fact that perfection can't be improved on!


Wednesday 19 November 2008

Dilemma

Should I ring or should I not? That's the dilemma. Readers of the Fox's blog will know our friend, MK, who has Motor Neurone Disease, had a relapse yesterday. I don't want to be a nuisance for Helen - she has more than enough problems to cope with with MK's health - & yet I can't help worrying about them both. Does knowing so many people are rooting for them help encourage & support them? Or would they just prefer a bit of peace so they can relax what little bit they can? It's sometimes so difficult to know what to do for the best.

I sometimes think it's worse being a carer than being the sufferer. If you're ill, you're too wrapped up in your illness to be concerned about anything else. You're also given all the info you can cope with from the medical team looking after you. So often those who care, are left in the dark , or unable to do anything except worry - & I sometimes think that's the worst of all. That feeling of uselessness.

It's obviously worst for those who care on a daily basis. Helen yesterday was clearly feeling the frustration of not having a magic wand to wave to take away MK's suffering. But she's not a trained nurse, just a 70 year old woman, who's not had a proper night's sleep for weeks, if not months, who clearly loves her husband of many years & is left on her own to do all the caring by herself. And that's a lot of work. MK, these days, can't even scratch his nose if he has an itch, by himself. In theory she has a paid care assistant come once a week for a couple of hours, but they rarely turn up, so she can't rely upon them. She is fortunate in having good neighbours. So when MK has fallen, she has been able to call upon them for help in getting him up, but she doesn't want to be a burden on their neighbours. It's a lot for her to have to take on. You can see it's taking a toll on her & her own health.

As I sit, doing my jigsaw, I look out of the front window. I see our neighbour, Michelle. She, too, is suffering from the exhaustion of caring. Her husband, Jeff, I mentioned had a heart attack a few weeks ago. He is still in hospital. Michelle is desperately running around, trying to visit him, keep her one-man business going & run the home. She's usually a positive whirlwind of energy, but not now.

In both cases I look on & wish there was something I could do to help. But realistically there is nothing. All I can do is pray & provide a shoulder if they need it.

Tuesday 18 November 2008

Differences


Mount Canigou from our gite




I'm thinking of France today. I'm having ago at a recipe I found in one of those free supermarket magazines, the sort of thing you find in Tesco, Asda or Morrisons here. Needless to say it is written in French so the French dictionary has had to make a re-emergence as I check some of the words.


This particular recipe is for Quiche a la Sardine, Sardine Quiche to you & me. It's very similar to a Sardine & Tomato Flan I make, an old favourite. I feel quite extravagant as my old recipe uses just half a tin & half a tomato in the filling, whereas this one uses a whole tin & a whole tomato.


As I read the instructions, I'm struck by some of the words & their associations. First I come to "Pate brisee", literally "broken paste". Looking at the picture I guess at shortcrust pastry & sure enough that's what it turns out to be. How you get to that from broken paste I'm not sure, beyond the fact you rub the fat into the flour, so it resembles breadcrumbs. Is this the broken paste?


I read on. I have to "tapissez" the base of the flan with mozzarella. Now I know "tapis" is a carpet. Sure enough tapisser is the verb from that noun. It can also mean to wallpaper. Either way I have visions of home decorating rather than cooking.


"Creme fraiche" always leaves me in a quandary. English creme fraiche is not the same as French creme fraiche. In France it is literally what it says, "fresh cream". Since this recipe calls for "creme fraiche liquide" I'm assuming it means single cream. I know "creme fraiche epais" is double cream. I still find myself wondering what the French must call what we call creme fraiche. For that matter what is un-fresh cream? UHT, perhaps? Or is fresh used to differentiate it from soured cream? Who knows? They surely can't sell stale cream!


Looking through the adverts in the magazine I'm struck by some of the apparent similarities of products in France & England, & yet they can be so different. In this edition there is a big ad for Knorr soup, easily available here. But these flavours are quite different. So in France you get "red soup" (tomato & red pepper), "white soup" (asparagus & cauliflower), "orange soup" (pumpkin & carrot) & "green soup (spinach & pea) - quite different varieties from here.


Even when you get something that sounds the same, it doesn't follow that it is the same. This dawned upon me when our French friends gave me a recipe for a fabulous apple cake they make. I tried to make it at home. It just didn't taste the same. Next time we went to France, I checked I'd written down all the ingredients. Yes I had. Then I looked more closely at their sachet of baking powder. In the list of ingredients in the small print on the packet was lemon. Needless to say I hadn't thought to add any lemon in any form to my cake. Since then Marie always makes sure we return to England armed with sachets of French baking powder to make apple cake. Our drawers are filling rapidly with baking powder as these days I rarely bake!


Vive la difference. What more can be said!

Monday 17 November 2008

Charlie Brown

The chicken's plopping. We're having Mandarin Chicken for a change. The recipe was given me by Fran from Geriatrics' Corner. It certainly sounds interesting. I've not got many recipes using tinned mandarins - so much easier to open a tin than segmenting fresh oranges. It's got some Chinese flavourings with soy sauce & ginger, & some more European elements with its cream. Should be interesting.

Saturday brought some excitement in the form of the arrival of Charlie Brown. No, I'm not talking about the cartoon character. This is my new walking stick/stool. Many years ago I discovered the advantages of this piece of equipment. The boon is that if I am walking, it means I can sit down at any time if it's getting too painful. I also use it every day to sit down while I brush my teeth & have a morning wash. The present layout of our bathroom means there isn't room for a proper stool. This stick/stool can just fit in the gap between the sink & the frame around the toilet.

Why Charlie Brown? All my sticks have names. The stick stool I'm replacing was called Charlie after that inimitable stick user Charlie Chaplin. This new stick has a brown seat so rather than calling it Charlie Mark II, it seemed appropriate to call it Charlie Brown.

He's already proving his worth. I'd just about got to the stage of thinking it was time to call in the Occupational Therapist (OT) as I was finding myself having to hold on to the sink to get up from old Charlie. I know this is dangerous & the sink is likely to be pulled off the wall. I thought the OT could probably provide me with an extra grab rail for me to use to pull myself up. However, this is no longer necessary. Old Charlie was developing a saggy seat & the framework was continually working loose. No more. I once more feel that little bit higher when I'm sat, which makes it easier for me to lever myself up. I also feel confident that Charlie won't collapse beneath me. The design is such that I can push down on either side of the seat, helping me to get up & increasing his stability at the same time.

My first Charlie I got from the National Trust but, to my regret they've changed the design of the stick/stools they sell. The new design is fine if you're able-bodied & don't really need a stick for walking, just wanting an easily carried occasional seat for bird watching or painting, for example. The new handle is a double handle which is quite difficult to stretch my hand across & still be able to use the stick to help support me for walking. I finally found the old design elsewhere on the Internet, & Charlie Brown has now entered into my life.

Saturday 15 November 2008

New life

We're just about to put the chips on for dinner, when the phone goes. It's an excited PD. This friend of ours is trying to stay away from the Pub for a while, in an endeavour to lose some weight. As a result we haven't seen him since our last Monday of the month meal out. Anyhow he rings to let us know the good news. His daughter had just had a baby, a boy, to be called Adam George. Both are doing well, even though it was a breech birth so she'd had to have a caesarean.

As I told the Fox the good news, we both couldn't help smiling. And what a lovely name. Good solid names. He's Em's first born so Adam seems appropriate; George after his great grandfather who's still very much enjoying life despite his advancing years.

Later in the evening we open a bottle of rose Cremant de Loire. We toast the new arrival into this world & wish him a long & very happy life. We seem to have had a lot of bad news since our return from France, it's good to have something so positive to celebrate for a change.

Friday 14 November 2008

A friendly face

I'm in a daze, staring at row upon row of sauces on the supermarket shelves, when suddenly a friendly face comes my way, ready for an embrace. He is followed by a lady in sunglasses. I hastily speak.

Why, you might ask. Because this friendly face is a guide dog, a golden labrador, the lady his blind mistress. Not knowing the characters concerned, I thought I'd better speak so the lady would realise I was there. You don't exactly make a lot of noise sat in a wheelchair. Once I'd told her I was in a wheelchair, the lady burst into a smile.

She teaches at a local school for children with cerebral palsy. Most of the children there are wheelchair users. As a result her dog sees wheelchairs &, if he's a bit bored, heads straight for them, as he's confident he'll be petted & loved.

I gave him the requisite hug & told him he was to get back to work. He happily strode off after that. And I was left smiling.

Thursday 13 November 2008

If it's too hot in the kitchen....

Dave C is in the Pub. On Tuesday he'd asked if he could be in the kitchen to watch the cooking for Fish Night there. He promised to keep out of the way. Come the night he offered to do a bit to help - some washing up, for example, prep some veg. Now, Dave C is an enthusiastic cook himself, though purely on an amateur level. He was put in charge of the grill. He got hotter & hotter. After a while, he asked if he could have a break. By this time even his arms were sweating. The chef's whites he'd been given were glued onto him. Dave's a severe diabetic so he thought the problem was that his sugar level was out, so he tested himself. Fine. He returned to the grill.

Again he found himself getting very hot, so requested another break. This time he popped out for a breath of very cold night air. The next thing he knew a frail elderly man was asking if he needed help to get up. He'd blacked out. His feet remained at the top of the steps, his head at the bottom.

"It was just so hot! I don't know how they manage it night after night", commented Dave, any aspirations of going professional well & truly evaporated. Fortunately no serious injury was done to himself. He hadn't even gained a bruise!

I couldn't help thinking of our French friends. The son, a professional chef, usually works just for the summer months. He earns sufficient then with the long overtime hours, usually 10-12 hours a day for 7 days a week, to keep him going for the rest of the year. During the winter months he tends to be a bit podgy. He puts on weight, an extra stone or two. By the end of the season he can guarantee to have lost that, plus some, & be as thin as a rake. The reason? The sheer amount of sweating he does every day. A bit like being permanently in a sauna!

Wednesday 12 November 2008

Pheasant

Dinner's plopping away in the oven. We're having pheasant for a change. This area seems to abound in these birds. Singularly silly birds in my mind. They casually stroll along in the middle of the road, regardless of oncoming traffic. I suppose staying on the ground is a good defence against being shot, but not much use if you're going to be run over instead!

They're also really beautiful, in particular the cocks, with their long tail feathers. Considered so desirable for hats at one time! Some varieties come in exotic colours, though those you find here tend to be of more subdued hue.

Pheasants really entered our consciousness when we first moved into this area as newlyweds in the mid 1970s. Our first marital home was a cottage on the edge of the Leighton Moss bird reserve. We were bemused to discover in the winter months, numerous people parked outside our cottage, got out with shotguns & disappeared into the woods. Next thing you'd hear the sound of shooting. In a bird reserve of all places!

At that time the original landowner retained the right to shoot on that land. I don't know whether the family still does. The person who moved into the cottage next to us was the gamekeeper when he retired, and his wife. A nice couple.

Since then we've discovered how delicious they can be to eat. I decided the time had come for a break from fish so I thought I'd tackle the next thing on the freezer contents lists. It turned out to be pheasant. Tomorrow we'll probably return to finish off that tin of tuna from yesterday.

Tuesday 11 November 2008

Something fishy

Tonight's Fish Night at the Pub, when they're putting on a special fish menu for £25. The Fox mentioned the event in his blog the other day. We've decided not to go. The Fox isn't keen on cullen skink, & since a bad bout of food poisoning a few years ago, he's nervous about mussels. Instead we're having fish night at home.

"Ah", I hear you say, "but you had fish last night." Quite right too. I have this habit of getting food obsessions, when ideas for meals follow a particular theme. I'm not even aware of it happening when I'm planning. It's only when I start the cooking I suddenly realise what I've done.

So it is that last Friday we had pouting en papillote. Saturday progressed into tuna & herb wraps. Yesterday was a cod & prawn fish pie. Today it's going to be a tuna pie. As it only needs half a tin of tuna, we will have to have another tuna meal before long. Oh, and yes there is a big difference between yesterday's meal & today's. Yesterday's was rosti potato topped whereas today's is in a puff pastry parcel. At the moment the filling is cooling & the pastry is thawing. (I couldn't be bothered to make my own puff pastry - too much faff!) So when I'm done here, I'll make up the tuna parcel ready to go in the oven this evening.

Monday 10 November 2008

Along the promenade

It's wild out there! I've just come back from a trip on my electric buggy, the Mean Machine, down to the fish shop.

I was aware of the wind even as I made my way to the promenade, but it really hits you when you arrive there. The sea is a dark, brooding, muddy grey. Great rollers are in evidence today. Across the Bay, the Lakeland fells try to loom on the misty horizon.

I head off in the direction of the shops. One man is walking his dog. He encourages the animal to go down the ramp towards the beach - obviously a favourite playground. I think the idea is to ensure the dog does not disturb me, or I him. Whatever the reason, the dog thinks it's wiser not to go for a paddle today & looks pleadingly at his owner. I carry on.

Now I come to a stony outcrop. The high piping sound of the oystercatchers tells me the tide must be about to turn. They are gathering, ready for meal time when that happens.

I turn the corner. Now the wind is really behind the tide. The rollers crash on the shore & rocks that form the breakwater. Spume leaps several feet in the air. Drama indeed.

Further on, I see a lone windsurfer. I hope he's a good swimmer. If he loses balance, I wouldn't fancy his chances of swimming in that tide if he isn't.

Finally I get to the shop, buy the cod for the fish pie I'm making for this evening, along with some potted shrimps just because they're utterly irresistible. I set off back home along the prom. By now, it's possible to see that the tide is slowly moving out. It's still wild. Now I'm going into the wind myself. More oystercatchers have arrived. The stone jetty is covered with them. Some gulls are circling overhead. The sun briefly peaks its head out. The scene is transformed as the white on top of the waves almost glistens against the steely grey of the sea.

I love living near the sea. You never know what you'll find. Its mood seems to change from minute to minute. Nonetheless, I'm glad to be home now, in the warmth, with a hot mug of tea to thaw me out again.

Sunday 9 November 2008

Brunei

I seem to have got out of the habit of daily writing my blog. I don't know whether it's to do with the change of site. Or whether it is that somehow, since our holiday in France, time just seems to be whizzing by, & I seem to have had so many things to do, to catch up on, that I haven't had much time just to sit down to write. Today, however, is grey & wet so I'm not going to church this morning. Sunday is always our big chore day. I sort the washing while the Fox does the cleaning. I'm always so shattered at the end of this that the Fox does the cooking, so I've not even got the meal to prepare today.

I've started to read about Brunei, the probable destination of our next long haul holiday. I've always dreamt of visiting, but never really believed I ever would. Lack of money, health or time always intervened.

Brunei is the land of my birth, but I came to England as a toddler of two. I'm not sure if I have any memories of my own of Borneo. My childhood home, though, was surrounded by mementos of life in the Far East. In the bookcase were books on Borneo. We had great aerial photos of Brunei. My parents would point out the houses where we lived at various times. They often talked about life there. There were Dayak hand-beaten silver trinket boxes to be polished. The tray we used was made from plaited palm leaves. My mother had a sarong, which I now still have. There were photos of my Dad with the works football & cricket teams - he was a keen sportsman, nearly playing professionally. Among the cookbooks was one on Malay cooking. Indeed, when I started to learn to cook, one of the first things my mother taught me was how to cook a Malayan curry. The table was weighed down with side dishes of various fruits, nuts, eggs, chutneys etc. When we first returned to England, I gather we used to irritate my grandmother by speaking Malay all the time, but now that is a language I've long forgotten.

I suspect I do have some memories. I've always recognised a pineapple plant without being knowingly aware how. I did instantly recognise a banana shrub but I admit, I do remember a photo of my brother, as a baby, being held by a family friend, his godmother, standing in front of a banana tree in our Bruneian garden.

The first time I ventured to the tropics since that epic trip as a toddler, was only a few years ago. We stopped for a few days at Singapore on the way to Australia to see that same family friend from Borneo days. As we stepped out of Changi airport, we were greeted by a thick wall of humid heat. I felt suddenly at home. I'd happily had pad thai (translated on the menu as "carrot cake" though quite why I don't know as it's a sort of prawn & rice mix) for breakfast on the plane. I subsequently bemused one official at the airport by having the local spicy, brothy, soup for breakfast as we waited for the ongoing flight to Australia. He couldn't believe that I, an obvious white woman, could choose it, but to me it seemed homely.

I wonder what else I will find that is somehow familiar & comforting on this trip, if ever we finally go on it.

Thursday 6 November 2008

So much noise

Is there no end to all this noise? Last night, as we started to make dinner, the whizzes & bangs began. Just 5.30pm and they're off. The sky isn't so filled with colour this year. A sign of the credit crunch & people maybe trying to save a bit by buying less spectacular fireworks? I wonder. Bonfire Night being a school day this year, clearly parents have decided the fun should be had early so their offspring will get to bed at a reasonable hour. Still they go on late into night.

I'm up early this morning. Around 8.30am, the doorbell goes. Neil, the car mechanic, I think. (Read the Fox's blog to discover why I should think that.) But no. It's the roof repair man. Early in the summer the flat roof over the laundry room sprang a leak. Rivers ran down the inside walls. The ceiling dripped. Unfortunately the roof man was due to go into hospital for an op on his arm & was then going to need several months physio to recuperate. He put a temporary roof on - just as well with the wet summer this one turned out to be. He's finally arrived to repair it properly. So now there is all sorts of banging & hammering going on. Oh, & now there's the whine of an electric saw.

Is there no peace left in this world?

Wednesday 5 November 2008

All herby

We're at the Pub. Al, our gardener suggests he comes round to tidy up our front garden. "All done," say I, "I did it this morning."

He blinks hard at this. "You got rid of that big sage?"

"Yes," I assure him. "I left the root in, in case it regrew next year." Sages are usually perennials, though I'm not sure about the Clary sage monster we grew this year.

"You harvested the coriander seeds?"

"Did that before we went away. And I cut down the stalks."

"What about the fennel?"

I had to admit I'd left that. I've got plenty of seeds for culinary use this winter already, so I thought I'd leave the seeds on the plants for the birds in the winter months ahead. I'm never a very tidy gardener where I see potential food or building materials for our wildlife.

"Cut that down," Al ordered, "Otherwise the garden will be overrun with fennel next year."

So this morning the fennel's been cut down.

On the whole I think Al was surprised by my competence. It's not that I don't know anything about gardening, or lack the enthusiasm to do it. It's more the physical ability to do it I lack. This herb garden we had built as a raised bed. I planted it for the first time this year. I can reach all parts from a sitting position. I love it. I loved not only the creative element in planting it. I've happily weeded it & kept it tidy. I've also appreciated the food possibilities with the herbs grown there. Today I enjoyed making up my own bouquet garni to put in with the pork that is plopping away at the moment.

Both Al & the Fox thought I was a bit mad wanting a herb garden, especially at the front of the house. Our back garden floods regularly, which makes getting the herbs I had previously been growing there difficult to get to in winter. I was also confident a herb garden could be visually interesting to look out on. And so it's proved. We've had the orange/red/yellow of marigolds & nasturtium, the white of camomile, pink/mauves of lavender, purple & variegated sage, feathery bronze & green fennel, blue/purple of rosemary & Clary sage, pink pompoms on chives. All shades of green from the very dark of rosemary through the variegated lemon balm, to the limey green of the thyme we grow. A delight to behold as well as to eat.

Tuesday 4 November 2008

A social afternoon

I'm feeling curiously at a loose end this morning. We went out yesterday to visit a friend & stopped for a meal on the way back. A large part of my mornings are usually spent preparing dinner but I did that yesterday so there's nothing to do today. If the weather holds I might venture into the garden and try to tidy up the front garden, my raised herb garden.

We had a good afternoon chatting away to our friends, Helen & MK. MK unfortunately has Motor Neurone Disease (MND). As time goes on he is slowly losing the use of his muscles. For a while his upper body has been affected, but now his legs are going too. Like me, he is now a part-time wheelchair user, but the rate of his deterioration is considerably faster than mine. While we were on holiday, he had a fall. His legs gave way under him & his family, who were with him, hadn't been able to stop the fall. He's now nervous of going out much. It's the transfer from wheelchair to car that really worries him. He's got a new aid on order which should help, but for the moment he's reluctant to go out much. So instead of them coming to the Pub, we're off to their place to see them. Fortunately MK is still mentally on the ball, still able to talk & laugh, to communicate & appreciate life. It's always a pleasure to see them.

On the way home, we decided to stop at our usual Pub for a meal. I was feeling too weary to be bothered to cook, or even wait around while the Fox cooked. While we waited for the food to arrive another friend appeared - Joan K. She is a lovely lady, a retired hairdresser. She is in remarkably good health for someone of her age (80+ I'd guess), but she does find these days it can be a struggle to make the effort to get dressed & get out to socialise a bit. I know the feeling! The getting up & dressed I manage. But I sometimes wonder how much going out & socialising I would do without the Fox's encouragement, if I was a widow as Joan is.

Monday 3 November 2008

A new boiler?

I'm still feeling I'm rushing around catching up on things.

This morning the plumber comes to service our central heating boiler & gas fire. We're contemplating having an extension to our kitchen in the new year. Among other things we want to level off the floor levels between the kitchen & the laundry room, so getting rid of some steps. As I slowly deteriorate in my mobility skills, this would make life a lot easier for me. The only thing is it would mean raising the laundry room floor & the central heating boiler with it. So it is I ask Norm, the plumber, whether our ancient boiler would survive the move. No. However, he does suggest I should have a word with Warmfront. As I am disabled, in receipt of the appropriate benefits, I should be able to get a new boiler from them free.

After Norm goes, I give them a ring. I know that they will not replace the existing boiler for a more efficient one until it irrevocably breaks down. I explain the situation to them. Yes. In those circumstances, when the work is essentially to improve access & in the process the boiler breaks down, then they would pay the first £2700 towards a new boiler. Norm reckoned a new one should cost in the area of £2500, so, with a bit of luck, that bit of the extension won't add to the overall cost. Now we just have to raise the other thousands for the rest of the work! And at a time when our savings have gone down due to the recession & "credit crunch", and it's not so easy to borrow money! Oh, hum! One thing's for certain we're not having any work done until the spring & a bit of warmth. This is no time to have exterior walls knocked down, a kitchen out of commission so no hot food, & no central heating.

Who knows, by then, the credit crunch will be over. The finance markets will be once more stable. Banks will be lending. Or maybe some fairy godmother will have come & waved her magic wand & our problems will be solved.