Waste

"Potatoes make up the largest proportion by far of fresh veg that get wasted."

Or so says the introductory blurb to today's recipe, a vegetable curry, based around potato. I can not believe that's the case in our household. Yes there is waste in the sense of potato peelings & any bad bits, but that's it. Surely I'm not the only one who cooks the amount of potato that we are going to eat so there is no waste. I even serve them on the plate so we each have a fair amount, a healthy amount. The only exception tends to be when we have visitors when I will get out separate serving dishes. Even then there is rarely any left. I may do more than one variety of potato or other veg but I do it on the same size portion per person as I do normally. It just means guests have a choice. (There's even less these days when we don't entertain at home any longer.) Needless to say I shall have to cook some spuds especially for the meal tonight.

No, the largest proportion of waste veg in our household comes from a different source. There are some veg which, while we appreciate a little for the extra flavour/texture they bring, we do not like them sufficiently to want to eat a lot. Celery comes into this category. While I regard it as invaluable in casseroles for example, it's not a veg we particularly like as a veg. And there are a lot of sticks in a head. So often a couple of sticks are used in cooking. I might nibble the odd stick. But so often the rest turns slimy before I've gotten around to using it up.

The other category of veg waste is the result of the huge bags supermarkets insist on selling so many veg. This week it has been cheaper to buy 5 limes in one bag than two loose ones. Two I will use up, but the other three?.... I'm not so sure. How often I have bought 5 peppers rather than two to have three go soft & slimy before I can get around to finishing them. As for chillies they seem to be impossible to buy less than five at a time, yet I do not want chilli every day. Bird's eye chillies are even worse. Those packets come nearer twenty a time. Why can't they come loose? Why can't veg be sold individually at the same price as those sold in bulk? It must put the price of shopping up considerably for people living on their own, as well as increasing their waste pile. Not everybody caters for large numbers.

Shopping

Not long after two in the afternoon, the phone goes.

"Are you coming out to play?" It's PD, wanting a lift to the Pub, followed by a little supporting company whilst there.

Normally we're prepared to put ourselves out, especially if he sounds in a bad way as a result of his depression. For once he doesn't sound too bad, so I can reply with an easy conscience, "We're out, but we're going shopping."

Of late I've been finding, by the time I've done the big shop, I'm so exhausted I'm hard-pushed to cope with eating, let alone cooking, a meal afterwards. I manage better if I have time for a sit-down to recover from the shop before turning my attention to the food. The time has come to accept that the big shop can not be done after a trip to the Pub. A top-up shop I will still consider doing after the Pub, but this is a big shop.

So off we go to the supermarket. We get back about 4.30. It takes half an hour or so to unpack & put things away. By then neither of us feels like cooking. The only thing I've prepared is peeling some potatoes, so we decide to go down to our village pub & eat there for once.

We both decide to have the gammon. Until recently they always did large gammon steaks. We're still recovering from some gammon steaks we had years ago at the Greyhound in Shap. There the steaks were over a pound in weight per person. We were just overwhelmed. It's left us nervous ever since. These steaks turned out a nice size, beautifully tender & not too salty. We were pleasantly surprised by the accompaniment. Apart from the fried egg, there was "pineapple chutney". I'm not sure it's what I'd call chutney. It was more a case of pineapple pieces in sweet chilli dipping sauce. Whatever you call it, the sweet spiciness was delicious with the gammon.

Today we're off to the Farmers' Market. No Pub again. The market is only on until 2pm. We usually go off to the local pub for some lunch - a tuna & mayo jacket potato more often than not - followed by an afternoon nap in time for dinner. And today the dinner will be pork pasties with the Fox's mustard mash. I'm using up those 50g of minced pork I mentioned the other day. The pasties are already made so will just need re-heating later. Nice & easy.

Meaning in life

Suddenly, as dinner to comes to an end, the Fox asks, "Do our lives have any meaning?"

A difficult one to answer, I thought. Does anyone's life have meaning? I'm not even sure what could give meaning to life. Is it achieving great things? Bringing up a happy family? Surely none of these give meaning to life. As far as I can see we exist, and in as much as we exist, our job is to live our life as well as we can. But that is about how to live that life, not whether it has meaning.

I'm forced to reply that I'm not sure about meaning but I think our lives have value. No, we haven't shaken the world in any way. The Fox didn't become the great writer he aspired to be. We didn't have the children we would have loved to have. But we do endeavour to live our lives according to a set of values, in my case essentially Christian ones. I think we have achieved some things in our working lives. I feel we have done some good in the world if only in little ways, as we have tried to support friends & family through the passage of their life. I certainly don't think we've done anything to cause serious pain or anguish to others. At the end of the day I suspect that's the best anyone can do.

3oz of cooked guinea fowl

The talk has been much on food. I suppose it started when a couple of clues in the crossword were "Large white radish" & "Japanese mushroom" - the latter stumped us, shiitake being the only Japanese mushrooms we know. Then Mr P, the music teacher, came in, still finessing his meal for Thursday. His mains are a choice of braised pheasant with red cabbage, beetroot & apple cooked in port or steak & kidney pudding, steamed for 6 hours, served with roasted seasonal vegetables. As that topic seemed to be waning, I suddenly piped up with my dilemma.

"I've got three ounces of cooked guinea fowl to use up tomorrow. Any ideas of what I could do?"

Apart from the usual, ie that's not enough to feed a mouse let alone two grown adults, our friends turned their minds to the concept. PD was keen to suggest a risotto - plenty of rice, some mushrooms... At this point I had to interrupt & point out I didn't have any mushrooms in & the whole idea was to avoid doing any shopping just yet.

Heads were scratched once more.

"How about a stir fry?" was PD's next suggestion.

Now this had more appeal. We have a recipe which we usually do just before we go on holiday as it's such a good user up of vegetables. For two people it basically requires 12oz of vegetables & 2-4oz of prawns, plus a few basics like rice or noodles, oil etc. I have tried it successfully using cooked chicken instead of prawns. Why not try it with cooked guinea fowl? So that is what the Fox is doing in his trust wok for dinner tonight.

This means I have nothing much to prepare for dinner today. Later on I will just decide what veg to add, then take the meat & any supplementary frozen veg out of the freezer to thaw. I will also get some cheese out of the freezer to get to room temperature in time to have as dessert. Nice & simple.

I wonder what they will come up with if I tell them that tomorrow we'll be using up 2oz of minced pork.

Trying to catch the pieces

I see the Fox has already written about our latest mishap - problems with the central heating. I got up this morning, in the lukewarm, to find a note saying he'd had problems. He hadn't been able to switch it off all night, even when he'd switched it to the off setting. Yet, when I got up, there was no heating on. It didn't make sense, but, until I've had chance to discuss the matter with him, I can't see the point in contacting the installers of the new system. Instead I feel he was maybe lucky. With the gas fire not working, & a night well below freezing (even now it's only just got up to -8C in a very white world), at least he was kept warm.

Meanwhile, this morning, I'm waiting for our plumber, who usually services the gas fire, to come to have another look at the fire, before I get back yet again to the manufacturers of that. They seem to keep finding things that should have been done in the service, without which the guarantee has no validity. If changing the bit they say has to be changed annually, & which Norman, our man, says is an expensive waste of time when the present one will last for years the amount of times we use the fire & which anyhow isn't the cause of the problem he's sure, then I propose to put Norman himself on the phone. I've had anough of being given the run-around. It's time the fire was working before winter really sets in.

Then, in the afternoon we're off to Curry's with the radio. Let's see if that can get done.

I feel I'm just trying to permanently catch the pieces. The only thing is, each time I catch some a further shower comes cascading down. I should be enthusing about the prettiness of a frosty morning on a bright sunny day, or the lamb casserole plopping away in the oven, not fretting about things breaking down.

Phone call dilemma

I've just been on the phone to Jean, Dick Gobble's wife. She was recently diagnosed with cancer, ovarian which has now extended to her stomach. I've not spoken to her since her diagnosis, feeling awkward about maybe intruding in her pain & grief, yet at the same time being aware she might find it reassuring to have someone to talk to who has been through some of the trauma of cancer themselves.

Yesterday, her husband, Dick, came in the Pub. Naturally we asked about Jean. I mentioned my dilemma. He said to ring. She seems to be getting great strength from discovering how many people really do care for, & love, her. So I did.

I'm glad I did. She seemed relieved to have someone to talk her worries over with. I think I'm the first person she's talked to who has ever experienced cancer themselves. Unfortunately her prognosis doesn't sound as hopeful as mine - my tumour was fully removed & is unlikely to return. But I do still remember the shock of being told, the fears for those you love who may be left on your own, the anxiety about what might happen ahead.

It puts my own feelings of disgruntlement over my limitations, expressed in yesterday's blog, in perspective. Poor Jean has been told she probably has about 2 years to live, depending upon how well she reacts to the chemotherapy, which starts on Monday.

She fears as to how Dick will manage. She's always done everything for him in the home. He only knows how to cook one meal, shepherd's pie, & won't touch ready meals. He has now idea of laundering clothes & general housekeeping. I try to reassure her she has got some time to teach him, & she may live much longer than suggested especially if she responds well. I'm sure all his, & her, friends will rally around to make sure Dick manages in the future, will give him, & her, as much support as they can.

She is turning her mind to practical things like getting their affairs organised, just in case. I've also suggested she should contact the local CancerCare place. They provide a lot of practical advice, as well as emotional support, for both patient & carer. They would also probably help her sort out benefits. As time goes on, she will probably need help with costs of care, travel to Preston where she is to be treated, just simple things like a Blue Badge so she can still go out a bit.

I hope the call was helpful. She certainly seemed pleased to get some of her anxieties off her chest. I do hope all goes well for her on Monday.

Tints of autumn

Big Robert, owner of the Pub, & Mr P, the music teacher, are deep in conversation. Food is clearly on their minds. We hear the odd words of pheasant, watercress soup, pumpkin soup. We try to politely turn our attention to our crossword, whilst feeling a certain amount of curiosity as to what's up.

Suddenly Mr P turns round & says, pointing at us, "Well, there's some for a start. They'll come."

What were we being volunteered for now? we wondered.

It turns out, that Mr P is taking over the Pub's kitchen for one evening & preparing a special autumnal menu for the night - three courses for £20 a head. Mr P has recently put in for early retirement from teaching & is intending to set up as an outside caterer. He's already done a couple of weddings & BBQs. This is to launch himself more widely. The meal is to be next week, during half term, while he has a bit more time to concentrate on food rather than school.

Our first thought is that it isn't possible. The dining areas of the Pub are no longer accessible to me, too many steps. Robert & Mr P pooh-pooh that idea. A few strong men should be able to manhandle me, in my chair, up & down the stairs. I agree to a trial run while the Pub is quiet. The Fox gets the wheelchair. Sure enough Mr P & the Fox manage to get me down & up again, though there's no way they could get me through the narrow doorway to the loo. Mr P did contemplate just taking the door off the hinges - it's never closed anyhow - but the screws lie under inches of years of paint. Still, at least it proved I could get to the dining room, so let's hope the Ladies is not required.

The menu is further discussed. There's no denying it does sound delectable - a special steak & kidney pudding which has been steamed for 5 hours.... Our mouths water, our enthusiasm mounts. We've nothing fixed for next Thursday beyond going to the Farmers' Market at lunchtime.

"So is at a set time?" we ask.

"Yes. That will be better."

A further discussion ensues. "We'll make it 7.30 for 8," is the conclusion, "That gives us chance to get through most of the people who are ordering a meal from the ordinary menu that evening."

That saddens me a bit. It's rather late for us. Occasionally we do eat that late but it's a spur of the moment meal rather than a planned time to eat. I try to tell myself I should have chance for a long nap in the afternoon & we usually have a spot of lunch after the Farmers' Market so we should be able to keep our appetites going until then. We agree to go.

Over dinner we are forced to conclude that this is overoptimistic. By 7 I'm dragging my way through the meal, exhausted. I have a quick cup of tea after then to bed. It's only 8pm. I wouldn't even have started to eat Mr P's meal. I'm sorry but this afternoon we're going have to disappoint Mr P & back out of our commitment. It just isn't on, much as we would love to go.

I find myself rather dispirited. It's partially tiredness, partially having to accept my limitations & having to inflict them on the Fox. I'm bouncing back a bit this morning, after over 12 hours' in bed, most of it asleep. I'm still a bit subdued. It would have been nice, but that's the price of disability.

Going wrong

Just as I begin to think things are sorting themselves out, everything seems to be going wrong.

So it is that yesterday I went into the lounge & put the radio on to discover how much poorer we would be thanks to Mr Osborne to find nothing happened. I'd been listening to the actual speech only half an hour or so before on that very radio with no problem, but now there was silence. I hastily adjourned to the kitchen & the radio there. The programme I was listening to was Money Box Live & fortunately the first question was about the impact to Disability Living Allowance & Incapacity Allowance, the benefits we receive.

Come the evening we tried listening to a CD on the lounge radio system. No problem although the radio still won't work. Today I'm reduced to putting the TV on in order to hear the radio if I want to be in the lounge.

Then last night was very cold. I'd noticed in the morning it was -8C from the night before. Last night seemed colder. After the central heating had kicked off, in the wee hours of the morning, the Fox thought he'd put on the gas fire in the lounge just for a short time. It didn't light a month or so ago, so we'd had it serviced & new batteries put in. All seemed to be well after that, but not now when he was cold. Another thing that needs sorting.

There are times when you begin to think the world has something personal against you. I'm now waiting for the third thing that is due to go wrong. I wonder what that will be....

Or do you think it is the September & October editions of the Parish magazine finally arriving last night? A bit late to let me know so I could participate in most of the activities.

All booked up

We met up with Fran & Den at the Pub yesterday. We've been missing them of late. Fridays were the usual day for meeting up but with the Fox doing his course, our trip to Harrogate & their holiday away, we've not seen each other for a while.

As a result of the meeting up, we've now booked our table for the Christmas Day lunch. We'll pick them up in our car then Den can have a drink in peace, without worrying about the drive home afterwards. They've found a nice sounding restaurant, overlooking a lake. They've eaten there a few times & reckon it's come up to scratch. So now we're all set.

PD kept going on about the joys of staying at home & eating there. We couldn't help pointing out that that's great if you have family popping in, or to visit part of the time. It just isn't the same when there's just the two of you, & at least one of you isn't able to help much with the cooking. You end up watching dreary TV. You can't visit friends as they tend to be tied up with their own family concerns. Nowhere is open for you to go for a change of scene. Half the time it's too cold or wet even for a stroll. Admittedly some pubs around here are open for lunchtime drinks but they are so packed it's not a great pleasure, especially if you can't stand long.

We're pleased that PD should enjoy his Christmas as he wants, though we do feel it's a bit hard on his wife who we also know fancies a Christmas with no cooking. (She fancies eating at one of their children's homes for a change.) But we, who have no children or other family members who we are likely to see over the period, would prefer dining out, to break up the day & celebrate with friends.

And now it's all booked. Come December we just have to tell them our choices & pay the deposit. It's all settled & the menu looks interesting. We even managed to get our choice of times to eat. It should be good.

The art of conversation

I was bemused to read yesterday that we were such good conversationalists. It comes with a lot of other, to my mind, odd comments. A friend suddenly came out with the fact we were such easy people to talk to, the conversation just kept flowing effortlessly.

Is the art of good conversation such a lost art these days, that our endeavours are so worthy of comment? Surely, especially with friends, conversation inevitably comes easy. Perhaps not.

Thinking about it, I suppose so many people spend their days working, their evening watching the TV. So many couples seem to spend their lives pursuing their private passions rather than sharing them between each other. So often one person has to stay at home with the kids while the other goes out on their own.

We've avoided all of this. Especially now we've discovered wine. Dinner always takes an hour to eat as we talk about this & that. Often in the evening we switch off the box, put on some music, open a bottle and just talk.

Good conversational skills are like any other skill. They need practice. It helps if you have a wide range of interests. It also helps if you listen to the other party/parties. Only then can you raise the comment, the question, that keeps the flow going.

We shall continue practicing. It's fun.

And to think, just before we got married, I had a sudden panic. I would have to talk to this person, the Fox, every day for the rest of my life. Supposing we ran out of things to say. Thirty six years on, we're still finding an endless amount of things to talk about. Topics seem infinite, wide & varied, some practical, some dreams, some fancies, some will-of-the-wisp ideas, but all worthy of a talk.

Perseverance

Yesterday I put out the remnants of the chicken - the skin & fat - on to the table for the birds. (Any meat was stripped & put in small parcels in the freezer for our later consumption.) The birds obviously didn't eat it all. Instead we attracted a black & white cat. The first time we spotted him , he was half-way up the trellis to the bird table. We scared him away. He disappeared at a rate of knots.

The Fox continued to prepare the meal. In the time it took for the Fox to cook the rice that cat reappeared half a dozen times. We kept darting out, hissing & shouting. He kept coming back.

Now, this was a cat that had clearly been to church with me & heard the sermon encouraging perseverance in adversity.

As the meal ended & the gloom descended, guess who was back. Yep, a small black & white shape reappeared. Again we scared it away.

After the meal, I hastily removed the remaining chicken & brought it inside overnight.

I've just put it out again. I wonder if the cat will be back.

Alice in Wonderland World

I've just got off the phone. I've done as much ringing around after car insurance quotes as I could be bothered to do. So to end I rang back our present insurers as promised. Would you believe, they've suddenly been able to drop the price by around £100, to be more comparable with other quotes we've had.

The reason? They reckon by increasing our mileage from 4999 to 5000 per year, & the value of the car from £1000 to £2000, in both cases just on paper, the price has been reduced. Now isn't that ridiculous? Presumably if you just drove 10 miles a year & your car was worth just a couple of hundred pounds, the premium would go up by a thousand pounds. Whatever value for the car is put on paper, in the event of a claim they would only pay the market value, which in our case is probably nearer the £1000 mark, so why should it make such a difference on the premium? I'm utterly bemused.

We have yet to talk it over between us, so no decision has been made. But oh dear, I think I'm in Alice in Wonderland World.

First sign of things to come

The sun stayed away yesterday. The impact on the temperature was instantly noticeable - a distinct drop. Suddenly we hit winter, forget autumn. By the evening we had to put the central heating on. My feet were ice blocks. They took several hours to thaw out.

Today is grey too. We left the heating on, telling ourselves if it did turn milder the thermostat would mean no actual heat came on. So far I'm grateful it did come on first thing. I'm only now beginning to think I should maybe switch it off. And that's after spending some time with the cooker on as I prepared the shepherd's pie for tonight. Yes, time has come for comfort food to stoke us against the cold.

Playing truant

I'm playing truant at the moment. I've done the basic chores. The potatoes are peeled ready for the meal the Fox is cooking later today. The ironing's done & put away in the airing cupboard. I've replied to an e-mail I recently received from my cousin Trudy. In fact I'm finding loads to do that avoids the job I really had set for myself to do this morning - sorting out the car insurance.

The premiums have gone up so much with our present company that we feel it's time to shop around & see if we can get a better quote somewhere else. Our present insurer says to return to them when we've done that & they will try to match it. I can't help thinking if they can do that, why ask so much in the first place.

I always find getting quotes a chore. It's the having to go through medical problems that get to me. Still I've got another 10 days or so before it's due. Maybe I'll just play truant a little longer.....

Garden update

Several years ago we planted an acer tree. It is supposed to be a copper coloured one, but has always remained resolutely a green one. One of the changes that has really caught my eye after our brief sojourn in Harrogate is that this small tree is now a vivid red. It has never turned such a glowing autumnal colour before. From our kitchen door, looking up the garden, behind the bird bath, is this glorious blaze of brilliant scarlet. I think the tree is suddenly coming into a maturity, ready to show its full colours. Wonderful.

Last night must have been very cold. It wouldn't surprise me if there wasn't a touch of frost even. I ventured out to get some herbs for dinner - mince & potato patties, an old favourite - to discover many of them were rather limp. The first sign of their dying down for winter I wonder. Certainly they were covered with a fine mist of dampness, of condensation. The car was positively dripping with wet.

Home again

We're back. One thing about going away is that it makes you appreciate getting home again. This occasion was no different, even though we did have an enjoyable time. It was good to see old friends, in better health than sometimes of late, to reminisce over old times & share new discoveries. Even so it's good to be home, back to all the familiar things of everyday life.

We were disappointed in the weather. As we set off to Harrogate on Friday the sun was shining. By the time we were in the Pennines things had changed. Mist & low cloud became the order of the day. We couldn't even see the golf balls of RAF Menwith that overlook Harrogate from the moors above, presaging your arrival in Harrogate from the west. I had begun to think they had maybe been dismantled. But no, on our homeward journey they peered out of the mist. The sun was just starting to reappear for the first time since we'd left home. Some balls glowed with white, almost looking translucent; others remained grey.

Above all we were struck by how more advanced autumn is in Harrogate. There many of the trees have shed their leaves. Here they're only just starting to turn colour, only a few leaves have fallen. On our journey home, with the sun coming out to celebrate our homecoming, the trees glowed with oranges, reds & yellow. The berries on the hollies & pyracanthas blazoned out their redness. Truly beautiful.

And since getting home, we've had brilliant sunshine & warmth once more, unlike the damp greyness of Harrogate. Still the weather didn't spoil things for us. We've been over there several times so we weren't really going for the sightseeing. Our main focus was meeting with friends & that was pure pleasure regardless of weather.

Looking forward

I'm amazed. The forecast is for a warm sunny weekend. I hope they're right. We're off to Harrogate tomorrow to see friends. Although sun isn't essential when you're seeing friends - I anticipate much time being spent just sitting around chatting, catching up with news etc - it does make the drive over more pleasant. It also makes it more pleasant if we do decide to go out & about not to get soaked in the process. And in a wheelchair you do get soaked! I had been fearing it would be a weekend of deluge like we've been having here of late.

I'm hoping to get out & pick the fruit from the apple & pear trees before we go. Whether the lawn will dry out sufficient to cross to the trees is doubtful. Plenty of fruit is scattered across the lawn, casualties of wind & rain.

Meanwhile our new washing machine has arrived & is ready to go. The instruction book is intimidating. I'm telling myself when I try to use it all will become clear. It even has a hand wash program. That sounds contradictory. I'm nervous of putting my hand wash in it, though I can't see why it shouldn't work. The only intake of water is cold. It doesn't get heated up on this program. It very gently turns, nothing as vigorous as on other washes. The load is small so the clothes shouldn't be too crushed up or rubbing against each other. It certainly would be useful if the hand wash could be done in the machine. It's not a task I like. Indeed these days I avoid items that need hand washing I despise the job so much.

Paeon to British food

AS we dug into yesterday's dinner, we couldn't help wondering why we, the British, are so shame-face about British food. We often watch cookery programmes on TV. At the beginning of "Daily Cooks Challenge" the guest is inevitably asked what sort of cooking they love. Usually it turns out to be Italian, Mexican, Moroccan, Thai (very in vogue at the moment), Chinese, Indian. Very rarely is it British, & when it is, the guest is usually apologetic. Yet what is wrong with traditional British food? It no longer has to mean the poor quality, bland food it was immediately after the the last world war & the aftermath of rationing.

Maybe the thought just struck us because we were eating a home-made chicken & vegetable pie with cheesy champ, runner beans & lashings of gravy. Where in the world produces something as satisfying as a good British pie, with a meaty saucy filling encased in melt-in-the-mouth shortcrust pastry? I used to have an employer who adored pies. Admittedly it was partly because his wife banned pies at home. I never quite understood his passion, mainly, I suspect, because we had pies so often then. We don't seem to have them so often now which is maybe why I enthuse so much now.

My mind drifts off to some memorable pies. There were Mrs Fry's fabulous black peppery steak & kidney pies we had whenever we ate at the Britannia at Elterwater in the 1970s. Or the amazing pies we used to get at the Wheatsheaf at Beetham in the 1980s - so often a mixture of meat, especially poultry, & fruit.

There is something comforting & satisfying about a good pie. And something very British.

Having said that we're going Italian tonight with Chicken Cacciatore. We do appreciate variety in meals. It will be our third day of chicken, with the Fox's wok meal on Monday, my pie yesterday using up some left over roast chicken, & now the tomatoey pasta dish today, but what different meals, reflecting such different culinary traditions & flavours. But that is the glory of chicken. It is so versatile, capable of being cooked in such different ways & with such different other ingredients & flavours.

University

We're talking to the barmaid, a student nurse. She's talking about, to her mind, the folly of going to university. Her long term boyfriend is now in his mid-late twenties. He has a Master's degree. He's now seriously wishing he never went to university. He's been out of work for a while since leaving university, only being able to get occasional menial work. He has finally managed to get a job that requires the use of his brain.

But he looks at his friends, of similar age, who never went to university. They are now in the midst of buying their homes, starting families, & with reasonably secure jobs (if there are such things these days!), while he is disappearing under a mass of debt from student years. All that education hasn't enabled him to get a good well-paid job as he was promised. Even now he doesn't feel secure in the job he's just starting.

Sophe, the barmaid, says she wouldn't recommend university to anyone unless they are doing a degree directly related to their work, as nursing is to hers. Her boyfriend's was a more general degree in sports science.

I can't help thinking how different it is from our day, when the state gave grants. I know many of my contemporaries left university with debt even so but nothing nearly as large as graduates have today. It was possible to live on that grant, especially if you could boost it with some vacation work. For me that meant market research, working the conveyor belt packing food for the planes at Manchester airport, looking after children. For the Fox it meant night shifts at a local factory. We question if either of us would have bothered going to university if it had meant starting our post-graduate life with huge debts.

That's not to say, I regret going to university. It didn't secure either of us that well-paid career. But personally I feel it was worth it for my own personal development, for making me the person I am. I may have got there anyhow. I don't know. But I certainly grew from a child into a woman then, & what is more, a woman with confidence & resilience to take on whatever life has thrown at me.

University is valuable, but is it worth being burdened with thousands of pounds' worth of debt at that time in life your thoughts so often turn to marriage, buying a home & having a family? I'm not sure. Sophie may well be right, unfortunately.

Downs & ups

Yesterday turned into a traumatic day. All went well until after dinner. I then went out to nudge on my washing to find it had barely started. I'd noticed earlier, on a previous wash, that the program dial seemed a bit odd. Now it had become very odd. It certainly wasn't showing the program it was on. One thing is clear. A new machine has just become a priority. We'll have to get along to Comet & Curry's this week.

The Fox suggested I looked at the "Which" review on washing machines. I couldn't make head or tail of it. It didn't tell me the info I needed to make a decision. I want to know what programs a machine does & how large the loads are. The reports may tell you the reliability of the various machines but that is often pot luck & how well you treat the machines.

I'm a believer of doing full loads of washing. The machines "Which" seemed to review took a capacity of 9kg. That will just about be our entire wardrobe of clothes. It would be weeks of dirty washing hanging around.

The whole business just got me down. I'm better off going to a shop where I can easily see on the machines the available programs & find one with a capacity suitable for just 2 people, rather than a family.

The evening did pick up to hear from our friend in Harrogate. Our trip there is now organised & we can get down to eagerly looking forward to it. It's good to see old friends you haven't seen for a while.

So this morning I continued on with the wash. The first load seemed to be at the final spin cycle. I looked in the soap drawer to see the detergent was still there. Obviously I hadn't found a program that involved putting in some hot water. I tried again. So it's gone on. Heaven knows what temperature the washing was done at, but at least it's all done. I just hope nothing has shrunk in water too hot.

And it is a gloriously bright sunny day, so the washing is out on the line. As I put things out I suddenly heard the honking of geese. I looked up. A couple of great Vs crossed the skies. It's that time of year again.

And now, I've had a surprise. The doorbell went. It is someone from the church, delivering a box of gifts from the Harvest Festival yesterday (I didn't attend myself due to the constant heavy rain). It's the first time we've been included on the list of sick & elderly to receive gifts. It came as quite a surprise.

More bad news

We seem to be back to fearing the worst & praying for the best. Our friend Jean, wife of Dick Gobble, has just been told she has ovarian cancer.

She's been having stomach pains for over a year now. She's been in & out of hospital, having morphine injections, X-rays, ultrasound, scans, with no results. They've been fobbing her off with the idea the pain has been related to an old scar from an appendix extraction she had done nearly forty years ago, which sounded pretty unlikely to us, but then we're not doctors. Eventually, after her persistent complaining, they decided to do some keyhole surgery, found something they didn't like the look of & did a biopsy. Now they know it is cancer.

If I was Dick & his wife I would be fuming. It's taken over a year to get a diagnosis. I just hope, & pray, that now, after all this time, the cancer is still treatable. I fear it will be too late.

There's no denying it, one disadvantage of getting older is Death & Ill-Health become constant companions, never far away. They increasingly affect you & your loved ones, friends & family alike. They no longer hang around in the background, hardly noticeable. But then Death, & for that matter I suspect Ill-Health, have always been among the few sure things in life.

A bit of a shock

I'm suffering a bit of shock. It's that time of year again. The car insurance is due for renewal. I received a letter, & a phone call message, asking me to ring up our present insurers as they needed some "clarification" on something before they could send out a quote for next year.

I've just rung them. You can imagine my surprise then, when clarification turned out to be just a quick check that our circumstances hadn't changed. But the real shock came when they quoted the new price for next year - nearly £100 more! They then offered to take payment over the phone.

I refused. With that sort of increase I want to check around a bit first. I know we've already had one company quote about £10 more than last year. I just want the documents so I can prove the number of years of No Claims Discount. We will be trying elsewhere.

The girl helpfully told me to ring back when I've found the other price & their terms & she would match it. If she can match it, why can't she make an lower offer in the first place? Or is that just me being simple?

Happier day

Oh it seems so much better to be doing something this morning. After my couple of mornings with no food to prepare, it is with relish that I've got down to making a vegetable & lentil casserole for dinner. I've also peeled some sprouts to have with it. The urge to cook is fairly fundamental in me. I'm somehow more content if I'm only asked to boil some eggs for a kedgeree, or peel a few spuds or sprouts towards a meal that the Fox is making.

So, despite the heavy rain & grey skies, I'm feeling much happier today. I've even done the ironing this morning. Though, I suspect, part of my sense of well-being is probably the result of a very agreeable evening last night. I see the Fox has got in before me, so I won't bore you by repeating what he has already said. It is sufficient to concur in the conclusion, a very enjoyable evening was had by all & Lin was suitably fussed over.

PD & Lin did repeat their invite to join them at the Fish Evening being held at our old local pub in Arnside next week. We again said no. The meal doesn't start until 8 pm which is just too late for me. By the time we'd eaten & driven home, it would be 11ish. I was in bed, on the way to the land of nod, by that time last night.