Wednesday 30 October 2013

A chococolatey jigsaw



As readers of my previous blogs will know, sometimes the jigsaws I do prompt observations, even a  little research into the background of some of the themes of the jigsaws. So it is with the one I did yesterday. It was entitled. “Cadbury Heritage Collection” & involved a selection of chocolate/cocoa ads.

My first surprise was the ads were both for Cadbury’s & Fry’s chocolates/cocoa. I always assumed the two companies were quite separate until fairly recently & all these ads predate the Second World War. I was surprised to discover the two companies had started to merge as early 1919 according to Wikipedia.

My second surprise was seeing one ad depicting the Fry’s manufactory at Bristol.  The surprise was twofold. The first cause of surprise was that the factory was in Bristol. I somehow had it in my mind that the Frys, like the Terrys, were based in Yorkshire, not Bristol. The second surprise was the use of the word “manufactory”. It had never occurred to me that the word “factory” is essentially an abbreviation of what was a “manufactory” where things were manufactured, including chocolate & cocoa.

One of the ads depicts a military scene with the words “Our other ally” & “Fry’s cocoa. Navy & army contractors”. I found myself trying to work out during which war this ad was produced. My immediate thought was the Crimean. It has a very dated feel. Then it dawned upon me the soldiers were in khaki so it was possibly the Boer War. I’ve finally, just today, concluded it is the First World War as some of the men are dressed in the blue/grey tunics & red trousers of the French army of that time. This view is reinforced by the presence of the French tricolour alongside the British flag, and the French were our allies in that war.

My eyes stray to another ad. This time it’s for Cadbury’s Fruit Crêmes. I remember Fry’s Fruit Creams, but not Cadbury’s. Maybe the latter stopped making them after the merger with Frys. The variety of fruit shown is unusual too. There are strawberries, cherries & oranges. The Fry’s Fruit Creams, if I remember right, had strawberry, orange, lime, but no cherry.

My eyes stray to another ad. This ad has underneath the words “THE VICTORIAN GROCER. A picture advertisement, in which the stylish grocer’s shop of the seventies is recognised. The footman and the seated housekeeper suggest a West End clientele – or at least and Edgbastonian!” How’s that for snobbery? Reassuring maybe if you are from Edgbaston. I wonder if Edgbaston was mentioned as Edgbaston is near Bournville in Birmingham & where Cadbury’s chocolates are made. This ad is for Cadbury’s Cocoa Essence, whatever that is.

The staff behind the counter is smartly dressed in white shirts, with black waistcoats with gold fob watch chains, black tie. The scales are the balance sort that are the symbol of Libra astrologically. One man is patting some butter into an appropriate shape for the seated housekeeper.

Below is an ad for Fry’s Cocoa featuring a man climbing in what I presume is meant to be the Alps. His dress seems singularly unsuitable, with his spats & feathered hat. He dangles out from the cliff edge, supported only by his stick which is hooked into a crevice. On another shelf he had a little kettle on a camping stove & a tin of cocoa. In his other hand he has his large cup of cocoa. Much as I admit in early days you did climb in ordinary everyday clothes, this seems a bit extreme. As for the dangling it looks positively dangerous. I doubt the “Sustaining & Invigorating” effect of the cocoa would be of much help as he hurtled down the mountainside.

Then, on the other side of the jigsaw is an ad featuring a very black boy handing a very white girl a cup, presumably full of the Cadbury’s Cocoa the ad is promoting. Both the children are seated on a rug on sand(?). Presumably the black boy is emblematic of the tropical countries from which the cocoa originally came. But were the two races so friendly at this time? I would guess we were in the Victorian era. It would be nice to think they were. The black child is just that - black with slightly greenish highlights. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody that black, & certainly not with green highlights. Even the darkest of Africans seem dark brown to me.

The attitude to food nutrition seems different from today. One advert is for Cadbury’s Cocoa. I would guess from the fashions, this ad dated from the late Victorian/early Edwardian era. At the bottom of the ad there is a chart featuring the comparative value of foods. It compares Cadbury’s cocoa, raw beef & mutton, eggs & white bread for their “nitrogen (flesh forming)”, “carbon (heat giving)” & mineral qualities. In all categories cocoa outperforms the others. Apart from the minor detail, we would not test for nitrogen or carbon today – I would guess these would be replaced by protein for flesh forming & calories for heat – cocoa would hardly be regarded as a health food today. As a confirmed chocoholic I only wish it was! The rest of the ad shows three particular groups of people that would particularly benefit from having cocoa – children (“healthy body for a healthy mind”), sportsmen (for “muscular development”) & the elderly (for comfort”).

In the centre of the jigsaw is an advert with the simple words “Cadbury’s chocolate Made at Bournville”, surrounded by images of 6 women.  These women are labelled “The Tennis Girl”, “The Opera Girl”, “The Motor Girl”, “The Cycling Girl”, “The Yachting Girl” & “The Golf Girl”. All wear hair piled big on their heads. All wear hats except the one at the opera who has a tiara instead. The motor girl has her hat tied on with a scarf. Clearly these are the days before cars had roofs. I have visions of the old British film “Genevieve” and smile. The various sporting activities are presumably related to the athletic producing qualities of Cadbury’s Cocoa, mentioned in the previous advert. I confess my hackles go up at these obviously grown women being referred to as “girls”.

Many of the ads seem to stress that “genuine” Cadbury’s chocolate & cocoa is “Absolutely pure”. Presumably these ads date from a time when food contamination was common.

And finally one ad makes me smile. It is drawn in more comic style. You see the backs of six people looking into a shop window displaying Fry’s Chocolates. The slogan is “One touch of Nature makes the whole World kin.”  The people drawn represent various classes of society. So an old lady, dressed in shawl & raggedy skirt stands next to someone in Eton uniform, top hat & all. I’m suddenly reminded of Lord Snooty of Beano fame. I generally wasn’t allowed comics as a child, but we had friends who did regularly get them so often got a look in. For that matter it was one of the few good things about visiting the dentist’s. There was always a supply of comics in is waiting room. I can’t help smiling remembering the goings on of Lord Snooty.

Contrary by nature



There are times when I’m struck by how contrary I am. Whenever I’m forbidden to do anything I instantly want to do it.

Much of yesterday I spent doing a jigsaw depicting chocolate adverts. I instantly fancied having some chocolate. I resisted the urge to rush off to the shops to buy some. Tuesday is usually our day for food shopping but yesterday we didn’t go as the Fox is still ailing.

Today I’m off to the hospital for this scan. The instructions clearly state I’m to eat nothing or drink anything with fat in it (such as milky tea) for 5 hours before. I was up early to make sure I had my breakfast before those 5 hours began. From now on I expect my tum will rumble in the hope of filling & I will be desperately thirsty. At least there’s no ban on water. I have looked at some of the soft drinks we have in. All say they have traces of fat. Much as I suspect that is the companies being overly cautious in case some fat has got on their machinery & so into their drinks, I suppose that trace means I shouldn’t have any those drinks either. So it is water. The stupid part of it is that I wouldn’t normally eat or drink much from now until the afternoon. It’s just the knowing I can’t have them that makes them so desirable.

It is that same contrariness that makes me so eager to discover if my pancreas has now reduced sufficiently for me to be able to once more have a little alcohol, just a bit of wine with meals even if I have less than I did before the attack of pancreatitis I had last year. It’s not that I’ve ever drunk vast quantities of alcohol. Even the hospital acknowledges the pancreatitis is not the result of excessive alcohol intake but rather due to long term use of NSAIDs (Non-Steroidal Anti-Inflammatory Drugs) to control my pain levels.

It all goes along with the urge to walk on the grass when I see the “Keep off the grass” sign. The sign almost acts as an invitation to walk on the grass, something I would never have thought of doing if it hadn’t been for the sign.

Tuesday 29 October 2013

Memories come flooding back



I’m somewhat bemused to see this year’s “Autumn Watch” on BBC2 starting this evening, is going to based at RSPB Leighton Moss. This place has particular associations for us.

Our first marital home was in a cottage on the edge of the bird sanctuary. It certainly was a great place for birds. I remember one day opening the front door to find a heron there. You don’t realise how big they are, or how villainous their bill is, until you’re that close. We gently closed the door. That bill would have gone straight through the hardboard door, not to mention a leg, if it had been alarmed.

One day we found a swift on the ground in our garden. We hastily took it round to the bird sanctuary & were advised to put it somewhere high up. In the garden we had what was originally the chimney of a pumping station. We put the swift high up in the ivy growing on the chimney & kept an eye open for stray cats. After a while the bird managed to recover from its shock & fly off.

We had other delights such as frogs that hopped in through the back door. A, I suspect feral, cat visited us many evenings for milk, a bit of something to eat and a bit of a warm up before our coal fire.

While we were living there we often heard the bitterns booming across the valley.

Early one morning the Fox went for a walk up nearby Warton Crag to see an owl sat on a fence post, head twisting almost totally around.

We did once go along to one of the RSPB hides. I still remember watching a spoonbill at the water’s edge.

The strange thing is that pheasant shooting happened on a regular basis in the bird reserve in those days. At the weekend the men, with their guns, would pass our window, on their way to their shooting stations. Hopefully these days that no longer continues. To me it always seemed at odds with the idea of a bird reserve to allow game bird shooting in the same place. On the one hand you encourage the birds to regard this place as a place of safety, and then you go & shoot some. Very odd.

It may have been nearly 40 years ago, but the memories come flooding back

Monday 28 October 2013

Off & away??



We finally decide on a hotel. So Thursday evening I ring up to book. I always phone to make sure access is as easy as they say. Experience has taught me that some places have wheelchair symbols because you can get to the bar or the restaurant, but you may not be able to get to a bedroom. My first question concerns access. Yes they do have a room. It is on the first floor. They have no lifts but they do have a stairlift. The room is fully equipped with grab rails. The best price they can offer is £165 for Dinner Bed & Breakfast one night & Bed & Breakfast the other night.

I decide this required some thinking about. A stairlift means having to transfer from wheelchair to stairlift seat, & at the other end from stairlift seat to wheelchair, an exhausting business, as well as requiring someone to carry the wheelchair up &  down the stairs. To me, that denies me much independence & makes me feel a bit of a nuisance. I know, in all probability I would be negotiating the stairs with the Fox but what if I did want to be on my own, want to get something I’d forgotten in the bedroom for example?

By Friday, our friends at the golf club are surprised to see us. We’d mentioned earlier in the week we were hoping to get away for the weekend, so when we are late arriving they’d assumed we had indeed gone away. I explain the dilemma. They all assure me not to be so silly & go ahead & book. The Fox is quite happy to get the wheelchair up & down the stairs, & it does look a very nice hotel & comes personally recommended.

So I come home resolved to ring up & book. After all we are only going away for a couple of days. I can manage with a little less independence for a couple of days. I’m just about to ring when the Fox says “Don’t. You’ve clearly got reservations.” I leave it until we have the chance to talk over the matter together.

So, come Saturday, I ring up the hotel again. I’m ready to book. It is a different person on the phone. She once more informs me about the chairlift. OK, I say. She then adds the chairlift only takes me to the first floor landing. I will then have to negotiate 3 steps to get to the bedrooms. That’s the killer. Steps are a no-no for me. Why couldn’t the first receptionist have told me that on Thursday & saved me all that timed dithering?

I try our second choice hotel. Yes they have two ground floor rooms. One fully accessible with sliding bathroom door enabling you to take the wheelchair into a wet room, one with a more normal opening door & a shower over the bath. I said either would do. For a couple of nights I can manage without a shower, especially since I will probably have one the morning before we leave home. She decides the one with the wetroom was the better bet for me, even though I tell her I will probably walk within the bedroom.

So now we have a room booked. It’s a long time since we last visited Penrith. I was still walking then, so it must be over 20 years ago. We’re quite looking forward to going again. We wonder if the excellent bookshop there is still in business. We’ll see.

But then yesterday, the Fox started shivering, followed by breaking out into a sweat. He aches throughout. What now? He had his flu jab weeks ago, so he surely can’t have that. By the evening he’d decided it’s just a bad cold. It will be the first time he’s had one since he had his stroke. The stroke has left him with a weakness on his left side. Clearly, if he’s off colour, that is where it will show up first.

 Now we wait to see what happens. Will we get to Penrith? For that matter how am I going to get to the hospital this week if the Fox is going to be ill?

We’re both keen for me to not delay this appointment. I’m going to have another scan to find out if my pancreas has now shrunk back to more normal dimensions. If it has, I can start to think of having a little alcohol again. It would be nice to have a glass of wine with dinner once more.

Friday 25 October 2013

Contrasts



I’m back wading through treacle. So far I’ve had to load Word up twice just to update my freezer list. Now I’m on the net I can only hope things get easier. Otherwise abandonment is the order of the day.

I was hoping to have another look at some hotels. We’re hoping to get away for a few days – a little morale boost before winter really sets in. We’re not thinking of going far, just up to the Penrith/Ullswater area.

The new home help turned out to be a wonder. I feel I need sunglasses on when I venture into the bathroom. Everything gleams & sparkles so much. She’s hospital trained & certainly knows about the importance of hygiene & is not afraid of using a bit of elbow grease if necessary. Unfortunately I’m not sure if she is going to be the regular one. Certainly someone different will be coming next week as this one is holidaying then.

I’m also struck by the difference of attitude. With the previous company you paid for an hour but only got 50 minutes work as the rest of the time was for travelling between homes. This woman was prepared to stay for an extra half an hour at no extra cost. She certainly expected to stay for the full hour.

Then the question of payment is different. The last company took payment at the end of each session. This company says, just pay when you’re ready, or if you’re passing the office. So far we can’t fault their caring attitude. We just hope they are sufficiently on the ball as far as money management & organisation to keep going. I hope they don’t have too many clients who take advantage of their laxness.

The office is more or less opposite the barber the Fox usually frequents & on the same short street the fish shop is on, so we will be passing fairly often. I wonder if the invite to drop in for a cup of tea & a chat mentioned on the paper they gave us when we agreed to take them on will also come into effect when you pop in to pay. It certainly won’t be taking us out of the way. I am, though, filling in & dating the vouchers each session to make sure I don’t forget to pay for a week. I can see our difficulty being to get them to take payment rather than being bludgeoned into paying for work never received!

Wednesday 23 October 2013

Food escape from tensions



It’s another wading-through-treacle day. I seem to have had to take an inordinate time “quickly” checking up on e-mails, looking up dates for an exhibition we’re hoping to see & getting here, on my blog site. It never ceases to amaze me just how long it can take just booting up some days.

Yesterday I had a go on our recently returned laptop. There I found I couldn’t even work out how to gain access to the website to write my blog. The Fox is going to look into the matter. I’m beginning to think the computer shop has so cleaned up the computer that I no longer know how to use it! My frustration is ever increasing.

Tomorrow the new home help should be coming. I’m a little nervous, especially since we’ve not had a phone call to confirm that they have managed to arrange for someone to come at our preferred time. We’ll see what happens. Our impression is that the people running the company are very caring, just a little inadequate at organisation, so hopefully the phone call, or rather lack of it, is a minor admin oversight. We’ll soon find out.

The Fox is cooking tomorrow. He’s trying an Elizabeth David recipe, with a slight tweak in that he’s using pork rather than veal, which is impossible to find around here. It will be cooked en papilotte with some ham & mushrooms – should be good. All I’ll need to do in the morning is prepare some spuds to accompany the pork.

The Fox cooked yesterday too. That was an old favourite, a meal we used to have very frequently, mainly because it was so cheap & money was very tight those days. He made a Carbonara. This version uses just a couple of ounces of bacon & mushrooms, along with eggs & a little cheese, and, of course, some pasta. I used to always make my own pasta, but these days I don’t seem to get around to making tagliatelle so often. The Fox used some supermarket fresh pasta that was taking up space in the freezer – not a patch on my fresh pasta! We did end up thinking that spaghetti might have been a better, lighter, alternative. Still it’s one less thing in the freezer.

So, by way of change, today I’ve just made up some chillied beef burgers, ready to grill this evening. It’s time we had a bit of spice. We need something to warm us on these damp chilly nights.


Monday 21 October 2013

Spot of nostalgia



I feel I’ve turned the corner. Quite why is as much a mystery as why I started to sink. The day is every bit as grey. Saturday was only brightened by the flashes of lightning as the thunder rumbled overhead. It’s still wet now. I’m still stuck in “Wolf Hall” though the end is in sight. I’ve had a change of jigsaw but I can’t believe that’s made much difference. I’ve not slept particularly well. Indeed I have to resort to more painkillers than usual over the weekend.

Whatever the reason I’m grateful. I’m learning to accept that these grey/black days will pass & to hold on to the knowledge of the love of the Fox & of good friends with their cyberhugs.

The jigsaw I’ve just completed is entitled “1950s Advertising Jigsaw. It brought back memories. I remember well “Spangles” but I can’t remember peppermint ones. Equally I was reminded of the golden cellophane that used to wrap “Lucozade”. And in my family it was regarded as a drink to be given to you medicinally to help you recover from illness. I also remember that mystery tin “Andrews liver salt” that stayed high up on the shelf for my gran’s exclusive use. (My mother’s mother lived with us in the mid-50s.)

The world portrayed in the ads is idealised, rather americanised, designed to confirm the words of the then Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan - “most of our people have never had it so good.” Everything looks so bright & fresh. However, England at that time was still just coming out of rationing, with many things in short supply. My memory is of a world all painted in cream & brown – I sometimes think they must have been the only colours available then. The Fox has similar memories. The “Scott’s Oats” ad shows schoolchildren merrily playing. I remember the smogs in winter – the real pea-soupers in which you were hard pushed to see your hand in front of your face.

In one ad for tea a young girl is on a bicycle, a sit-up-and-beg design, of course. It seems strange to see the old fashioned handlebars these days.

I am surprised by the ad for “Marmite”. In this ad, marmite is sown as a drink for all ages. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone to drink marmite. I’ve had, & hated, marmite spread on toast or as a flavouring in something, but never as a drink.

The fashions too are quite striking. A lady sits sipping her Ovaltine. Her dress has a very fitted bodice & a very full skirt, very 50s. As for the glasses worn by the lady in the Daz ad, they are so sharp & pointed I feel they belong to someone out of a Hitchcock movie. Little boys wear serge shorts to school. (My brother was allowed special permission to wear long trousers to school due to the need for him to keep warm due to his congenital heart problem. He hated it as it meant he stood out from the others & so got picked on.)  Men wore braces. Their trousers always came with buttons at the waistline to attach the braces to. The gender stereotypes are all there. The nice little woman at home in her pinny making tea for the hard working husband, the male doctor, the male delivery man & chef, not to be mistaken from the lesser female home cook.

The Fox pointed out that all the images were still drawn. Colour photography was still rare & very expensive in those days, too expensive for mere advertising. A lot of graphic artists must have lost jobs as photography later took over.

I also can’t help feeling nostalgic for some of the prices – Munchmallows 2½d, Scott’s Oats 1/9½d, Spangles 3d & only one point (presumably on the ration book). Those were pre-decimalisation days. Weights were still imperial so the box of Scott’s Oats is a 2lb size. Although I long ago adjusted to the change of currency I am struck by how little you seem to get for it today. As for weights, I still prefer imperial ones. Grams & kilos have little meaning for me. And we still live in a world where both forms are used with the result there is little inclination to move over to the new, for Britain, ones.

No, much as the jigsaw encourages a certain nostalgia, I have no desire to go back to then. The 50s were the time of my childhood. I recognise just how idealistic the world portrayed in these ads is. England was very much coming out of the Second World War. As children we had much more freedom than children today, as we were let loose to explore the rubble of buildings bombed years before but still not cleared up. Materially things were nowhere near as good. The range of foods available was much smaller. We were posh enough to have an inside loo & a plumbed in bath; most people still had to venture out in the middle of the night to go to the loo, and a bath was in a tin bath in front of the coal fire, filled with buckets of hot water. Oh, and the cold.  Houses had no central heating & only single glazing. Bedrooms decorated by Jack Frost in the night. Hot water bottles the only thing to help you get warm as you got into icy beds, having changed in unheated bedrooms. Mind you, with the way things are going in austerity Britain I’m not sure if we’re not going back to those days as people can’t afford to feed themselves, let alone warm their homes. Oh dear.

Maybe that’s what’s been getting me down – the news of late. Last week we heard of people returning food to food banks as they couldn’t afford to pay for the fuel to cook it. And then, as the week progressed, the utility providers announced swinging increases in prices for gas & electricity, far higher than inflation. And our government tells us things are getting better! I can’t help thinking that only applies for the super-rich & those who live in the south of the country. It certainly doesn’t apply to the majority of people in this country. Fortunately we don’t need to worry too much about ourselves, but my heart goes out to those who do need to. We spent far too many years in that situation to not understand the problems & distress it can cause.

Saturday 19 October 2013

Grey day



Yet another dark grey day. Fine rain seems a constant. Once more some impromptu lakes have appeared around the garden. Wellie boots are definitely required if you want to get to either our compost bin or the greenhouse.

My spirits are not too good. I’m trying to convince myself to ring my cousin Alma to see how she is doing. She was supposed to be going to the hospital this week to see if, by some outside chance, the chemotherapy she has been having has bought her some extra time in her battle against lung cancer. I fear I know the answer & I’m not sure I’m in the best of moods to cheer her up.

I’m trying to think of more positive things. I’ve got the potatoes peeled & par-boiled to roast up along with the harissa crusted lamb valentine we’re having for dinner tonight. Saturday is our usual roasting day. Sunday is too exhausting as we tackle our household chores.

We’re hoping to get into Lancaster this afternoon. Our laptop caught a virus, so it’s been in the shop having a clean-up. The phone rang as we were just starting to cook dinner last night to tell us it is ready for collection. We will be glad to get it back.

There’s nothing particular amiss. Life is going on quietly. It’s just that I don’t feel much energy. I just feel drained.

Maybe I ought to change my reading matter. I’m once more in Tudor England. This time with “Wolf Hall” by Hilary Mantel. The book is highly acclaimed but I feel a bit as though I’m dragging myself through treacle. I was reassured when I went to renew it at the library this week, that the librarian had had a similar reaction to it. It needs a lot of concentrated reading & I’m not sure I’m up to such concentration. I need a bit of something lightly entertaining, a good bit of escapism. I can’t help thinking I’m glad I wasn’t around in those days. It seems a very dangerous time when you were best keeping your opinions, beliefs & thoughts to yourself. I’m amazed anyone wanted to have anything to do with Henry VIII’s court. Most of the people mentioned in the book, whatever strata of society they came from, seem to have been tortured or imprisoned for a time as Henry vacillated between Catholicism & Protestantism. Many seem to have ended up on a bonfire or the executioner's block – a dangerous time indeed.

I suppose, too, I’m aware this week is the anniversary of my father’s death. Maybe that’s part of my low spirits, although I think he would have been relieved to die & he did die quickly & peacefully. After my brother’s death the previous year, he never really recovered. He was in this 80s by then & had suffered a small stroke, reducing his walking ability, which, as a very keen sportsman, he found very difficult to accept.

I also seem to have heard a lot of PD, our friend of old, in the days when we went to the Pub regularly. His health has deteriorated. I gather from two sources that he is gasping for every breath these days. He is just 64 now – no age to be in such a state. But the real problem is that he takes no exercise & eats constantly so that now he is topping the 20 stone in weight. It’s just too much to carry. But with his mental health problem he cannot raise the resolve to cut down on food & drink to lose some weight. Instead he just continues to find solace in them. Another sad situation.

I must get back to thinking positive. A bit of sunshine would help but there’s not much sign of that. I’m telling myself this gloom will pass. I’m just overtired, been tempted by too many late nights talking to the Fox - & that’s always a pleasure.

Friday 18 October 2013

Pineapple thoughts


Early this morning found me tackling a fresh pineapple, ready for my breakfast. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever tackled the job. Oh, I’ve eaten fresh pineapple, but it has always been prepared by someone else. In my childhood my mother occasionally tackled the fruit. Certainly when we’ve holidayed in countries such as Australia & Singapore the pineapple was fresh. I’ve even been known to buy the odd tub of cubed fresh pineapple. But this is my first effort at the job. So how come I found myself preparing one today?

It’s the result of the harvest festival at my local church. A basket of fruit was brought round by the vicar earlier this week. It was quite a shock to find the vicar on the doorstep. It’s the first time she’s been round in three years despite knowing I’ve not been to her church for 2 years & this absence dated from the time the Fox had his stroke. Anyhow that’s beside the point.

Our local church, like most churches & schools, delivers the collected fruit & veg to the needy, in particular to local disabled people & the elderly. I am obviously on that list of possible recipients. I do appreciate being remembered in my absence. However I do regard the gifts with mixed feelings.

My immediate feeling is that I am not worthy to receive such a gift. I don’t feel particularly needy. We have money enough for our needs. I feel the gift would have been so much better given to the local people in the area who have to resort to food banks to have something to eat in these days of austerity. I do get out & see other people, so I’m not even desperate to have the companionship of a visitor. But, as I say, it is nice to be thought of.

But this year’s gift as also made my question what people put in these parcels. I can understand people putting in things that they have grown themselves. That is what the service was originally about - giving thanks to God for the harvest safely gathered in. But I cannot believe anyone locally has grown this pineapple.

I appreciate that not everyone grows their own fruit & veg. They therefore have to resort to what the shops have to offer. In previous years the odd tin of fruit or veg has turned up & I’ve not been perturbed.

What gets to me a bit with this basket, is that someone has obviously thought of what they themselves would find a treat. And they have given generously. But what they haven’t thought about is the potential recipient of the gift. I wonder how many disabled & elderly in this part of the country would even know how to tackle a fresh pineapple, let alone have the manual skills to do so. At least with a tin, or a plastic tub, you can get appropriate equipment to enable arthritic hands to get in.

The other difficulty is the size of the gift. Most of the recipients are on their own, two people at most, as we are. Suddenly you get this parcel. Inside was a nectarine, a pineapple, some peanuts in their shells, a small bunch of grapes, a banana, a pear, a tangerine, 4 kiwi fruit. All are very ripe. I’m beginning to feel I’m under pressure to get all the fruit eaten before it goes off. We already had our own bowl of oranges in the house to eat. A pineapple in particular is a lot of fruit to eat in a go. This one is going to last me several days, much as I love pineapple. At least if you are going to be inundated with food like this, if some of it is in tins, it will keep. Fresh very ripe fruit, even more so than veg, will not.

As I say, I’m being very ungrateful. The thought was kind & generous. The products put in the basket were obviously meant to be a treat for someone. And the pineapple, now it’s peeled, is deliciously sweet & juicy, quite delicious in fact. Someone clearly does know how to choose a good ripe juicy pineapple.

Mmm, maybe it’s time to go for another fruity snack, or a peanut…….

Tuesday 15 October 2013

Sinking a bit



I’m trying to sort out some different home help. After the catastrophe with the company Angie worked for, I’m decidedly nervous. For myself, on the whole, I’m kind of relieved not to have a stranger invading my home every week. But I’m forced to admit the Fox is not physically up to maintaining the cleanliness of our home, as well as looking after me, and I don’t want him to have another stroke as a result of overdoing things. I had hoped to try to do a bit more myself to help but so far, since our holiday, all I’ve achieved is to wash down the glass in the bathroom. Not much of a help, & certainly not enough, regular enough, to enable the Fox to feel he can relax a bit.

We’ve got the list of agencies from the council now. We’ve short-listed a few, just on the basis on the type of disability they care for & their central office location.

This morning I tried ringing the favourite. First I get someone who couldn’t speak as she was driving at the time, so ring back half an hour later. When I ring back later, I get an answerphone. This worries me. What if there is a problem, an emergency? Is there no regular office staff? Would I be left wondering why someone hadn’t turned up & be unable to find out? Would I even be able to notify them if, for some reason, I had to cancel an appointment?

I’m now questioning whether I shouldn’t try another agency. I’ll have to talk about the matter with the Fox.

Meanwhile I’m also trying to sort out the various insurances. So far I’ve done the car insurance. Next it’s the home one.

All this is making me aware I’m starting to get tense, so often the first stage towards the downward spiral of depression. As it is I’m worrying about various cousins. All those with cancer seemed to have worsened during our holiday away. I suspect next year will be another year of funerals.

The one good thing is that it simply a beautiful day. The sky is a luminous blue, so cheering. Maybe I’m just feeling a bit down because it’s that time of year. I hate getting up in the dark & these days it’s dark in the morning. I feel it’s time for the clocks to change. The Fox points out that will mean it will be dark early too. I don’t mind that so much. By now the weather is usually so cold & miserable I’m usually glad to draw the curtains shutting out the outside & wrap myself in the warm comfort blanket of home for the evening.

Still today the sun is shining brightly & I’m clinging onto that fact.

Saturday 12 October 2013

Jigsaw thoughts



I’ve just completed another jigsaw. It’s entitled “Nostalgic Brands: The design of time”. It is a collection of ads from what I would say was late Victorian times, around the turn of the 19-20th century. I’m guessing this from a combination of the ladies’ fashions & an advert for Monopole Cycles which contains the date 1899.

A few things struck me doing the jigsaw. I thought I’d share my observations & musings with you.

The first is that I was relieved to see some of the brands still exist. There is Brown & Polson’s cornflour. And how about Jeyes? Admittedly I’m not aware of them making dog soap, but I certainly remember Jeyes’ cleaning fluids & those hard sheets of toilet paper so ubiquitous in school.

Above all I’m struck by just how much of the advertising is tied up with the concept of empire. So, for example, there is Empress Brand condensed milk, featuring Queen Victoria. As for the Monopole cycles ad it features Britannia surrounded by various shields & flags of Britain, topped by a crown. I can’t help remembering the Buy British campaign in the 1960s. Was there a similar promotion at the time of these ads?

Along with empire comes a strong emphasis on royalty. Queen Victoria is not the only royal image being used. There is The Alexandra Dentifrice, featuring a lady dressed in a style reminiscent of Princess Alexandra. Then, too, the Jeyes’ Dog Soap makes the most of its royal warrant, with its crown, British shield & Prince of Wales shield, including mottoes.

I’m struck, too, by the fact this is the changeover period with the advent of industrialisation. So we have on the one side, ads for bikes & on the other the milkman still milking by hand.

It has never before struck me before that I have no idea when chocolate as bars first came into being. Although chocolate for drinking was known, I think, from when chocolate first was brought back from Central America. Chocolate as bars is a different matter. I’m aware the big names in this country – Cadbury’s, Terry’s – were definitely Victorian. Are chocolate bars an outcome of the industrial revolution? Do chocolate bars go along with "patent auto-cured" Wiltshire bacon? All a part of post-industrialisation Britain?

In one ad a child is blacking a boot. The child is so young, the boot is almost bigger than her. She looks healthy, clean & fresh. I can’t help thinking this was a prettying up for the ad. I can well believe a child so young could be in service in those days. I can’t help thinking that half the polish would have been on her & she would not have been so smartly attired in her position in society.

I’m also bemused by one advert. It is for Prosser & Sons Lawn Tennis Racket & Ball. A couple of things amaze me. First the game being played is a mixed doubles. How those ladies could hope to play in their tight whalebones & long skirts is beyond me. The other thing is that Prosser & Sons proudly announces the company was established in 1356. What were they producing then? I appreciate real tennis dates from Tudor times & involves rackets & balls, but 1356?

Another ad made me smile. It featured a young lady sitting on a low wall against which two bicycles are leaning. She is dressed in a divided skirt of mid-calf length, very daring for the times I would have thought. She is looking over what a young man is doing. At first glance I thought he was looking at an e-pad. It was only on the second glance did I realise it was a portable paint box with a painting propped up on the lid that he was working on.

Some things stay the same. All the people shown are idealised, beautiful, in rather sentimental poses. That must have been easier when you did not have to worry about air-brushing out any blemishes or the need to slim down people by manipulating digital images. The countryside is a pleasant place for ladies with their perfect children to stroll. All servants are pretty, clean, healthy & well-dressed. It’s that world where everything is perfect, just as it tends to be in today's advertisements. The fashions & products may have changed but that is about it.


Wednesday 9 October 2013

Encounters, new & old



There are times it strikes you just how good it is to be home. I seem to have been writing about France so much of late. Much as I love France, England, particularly Lancashire, remains home.

This thought struck me over dinner. We had a Ham & Egg Flan, made with an old Mrs Beeton recipe. The clean fresh taste of the simple egg custard made the flan. It had no fancy spicing or herbs, no cheese, nothing but egg & milk with a bit of salt & pepper. It seemed so English, so unspoilt.

We’d had a pleasant afternoon at our village pub, talking to the new barmaid. She’s a recent graduate, working part time at the pub. Her main job is in the management of the local council fitness centre, but she needs the extra money to pay off some of her student debts. She’s not unduly worried about the student loan. That she accepts will, or will not, be paid off over the course of her career. It’s the credit cards & overdraft she’s more concerned about.

It was lovely to see her enthusiasm for life. It’s the first time I’ve really regarded sport as a degree course, yet that was what she had a degree in. She certainly had the intelligence & intellectual rigour of anyone who has gained a more orthodox degree.

Today I was pleased to see a letter from the hospital arrive. It’s my appointment for another ultrasound scan. This should reveal whether my pancreas is once more down to more normal size & I can start to have a little bit of alcohol again.

 It’s not that I’ve ever drunk much alcohol, but I do miss my glass of wine with dinner. I resent having a range of experience & a chance of discovering new tastes denied me. It also makes such things as communion wine forbidden, not to mention some fabulous desserts & chocolates. I don’t want a lot. I just want to be free to have the choice again.


Tuesday 8 October 2013

I wonder....



There remains one more observation – or is it really question – arising from our recent holiday.

As I said afew blogs back, I was reading Pagnol’s “The Water of the Hills” set, i.e. “Jean de Florette” & “Manon des Sources”. One of the things that clearly comes over in these books is the deep suspicion & rivalry between two neighbouring villages. Part of the reason why what happened was allowed to happen was that Jean, not only came in from outside, he was born in that neighbouring village which inevitably made him the most despicable of all foreigners.

La Cadiere d'Azur

Le Castillet from La Cadiere d'Azur


















La Cadière d’Azur, where we were staying, is a perched village. Across the valley is another perched village, Le Castillet. Both were clearly highly fortified. 


The 8th century Porte St Jean, La Cadiere




















 
La Porte Mazarine, also in La Cadiere









I found myself wondering who they were fortified against. Did similar rivalry exist between villages, resulting in occasional raids on each other? Or were they both trying to protecting themselves against a common enemy, rampaging & pillaging its way north into the heart of France? I wonder…

Monday 7 October 2013

Pieces of rock



I suspect this is going to be my last holiday blog.

One thing that struck me while we were in Provence is a particular rock formation. Somehow it kept appearing in the background. I was reminded of that fact when we looked through our photographs. This rock formation is so distinctive it’s quite unmissable.

From the Cassis end of the Route des Cretes
Taken from Les Lecques


As far as I can tell the rocks are just behind La Ciotat. I say this from some of the paintings done by Courdouan who I mentioned in the first of my Provençal blogs. Wherever they are, they are certainly impressive, dominating the surrounding countryside for miles around.

Friday 4 October 2013

Eating out



We’re back to classic North Lancashire weather i.e. rain, so different from the weather in Provence. It seems another world almost.

In his blog the Fox has already touched on one of the delights of holidaying in France, in Provence in particular, and that is eating out. I mean literally eating out under the stars.

On this holiday we did eat at restaurants a bit more often than on some holidays. Our favourite restaurant was “La Chaise Bleue” (the Blue Chair) at La Cadière d’Azur. The actual inside was too small for any tables so all the tables at the restaurant are laid out on the street. We gained our regular table next to the fountain.

 
Dining area at the Chaise Bleue


Where the food is cooked. I do like the blue chair on the wall






We go to know Eric & Brigitte (yes, she was named after Brigitte Bardot), the waiting staff. The chef came out to talk to his customers. Once he got over the shock of realising we could speak French, he became much friendlier & keen to discuss our local culinary specialities i.e. potted shrimps, & rugby (his other passion). Indeed on the last day we had to go to wish them all farewell. Brigitte reckons the good thing about saying goodbye is that you now have a reason to come back – to see friends once more. After our first night there we were given a complimentary glass of champagne to start every meal. I confess I slipped a bit & did have a sip on each occasion although the Fox had the rest. There were no adverse repercussions.

There was another restaurant in La Cadière, we tried a couple of times. On both occasions we weren’t entirely happy. We were tempted to the second visit only because it did have an inside & the mistral wind was blowing coldly that day so we wanted to escape inside. 

There were two other restaurants in La Cadière, both expensive. One was a Michelin 2-starred Hôtellerie. It looked very fancy, too fancy for us in holiday mood. The other was the brasserie belonging to the Michelin starred Hôtellerie. That required negotiating numerous steps, not a task we fancied with me in a wheelchair. A couple of burly Frenchmen did see us looking at the menu & insisted on taking us in, to discover the restaurant was full so there was no table for us. They helped us down again. We headed back to the Blue Chair.

Why we explored the culinary delights of La Cadière d’Azur was because that was the village we were actually staying in so it was a short, if hilly, stroll back afterwards.

La Cadiere d'Azur on its hilltop

We did try eating out elsewhere, once for lunch at a village on the way to Le Val. We do try to convince ourselves lunch would be a good idea. The meals are often cheaper & so much of Provence closes down for lunch between 1 and 4pm. However our stomachs are used to a more substantial meal in the evening & rebel against the change of time. A snack at lunchtime is one thing, a meal is another.

Our last night we decided to try an auberge we’d passed several times on the way to Bandol. We thought the Chaise Bleue would be a bit too emotional stressful for that night & anyway we fancied trying something different. The entrance to this auberge had caught our eyes & intrigued us. We couldn’t help thinking next time we go to France maybe this was the sort of place we ought to stay – a family-owned auberge (inn) where the people are very French, there is food on site & there’s no need to worry about the shopping, bed-making, cleaning etc that self-catering involves.