Unrequited love is the butterscotch of life...
brittle sweet
Insane adoration... mountainous overwhelming candyfloss
Whispered love... a 4 'o' clock Snickers
*The fishcakes were fabulous, hot crusty brown exterior hiding steaming, white, light fishmash mix.
Isn't the English language beautiful?
Thursday, 30 September 2010
Fishcakes
Monty has been resting on his picnic basket while his mum makes fishcakes...
And as I mixed the mash and tuna together I wondered what is was about rissoles, patties and other savoury mounds that is so pleasurable.
Yes of course they all taste good, whether they be meaty rissoles made with leftovers or spicy patties popped in a seeded bun, all are moresome and most of all, friendly. I can't eat food which doesn't make me happy, cream crackers are cool and fill a small tum like mine, but to have some street cred they must be cheesily spread or jammed up with Hartleys raspberry. Bare crackers are quite depressing.
I have always had a penchant for fishcakes so this afternoon I've made some.
Here are the ingredients for four fat cakes.
(This recipe has taken years to evolve to this delicious stage, feel free to add or scrub ingredients.)
1x200g tin tuna in brine (drained)
300g mashed potato (add a little butter or your favourite spread)
4 chopped spring onions
a teaspoon of Anchovy essence (optional)
a pinch of ginger (freshly grated is good too)
some chopped parsley (dried is ok, I'm not a snob)
dill (optional)
grated lemon rind
pepper and
a touch of salt
Mix well and with delicate hands and form into four cakes. Dust sparingly with flour and allow to rest. Rest? They haven't exactly done anything but I think the flavours, given a couple of hours in the fridge, tingle on the tongue more.
You can dip in beaten egg and cover with breadcrumbs if you like. I sometimes do that. But not today.
Beefburgers are another huge favourite of mine, I like to poke a little piece of cheese in the middle before frying, it makes for a lovely squelching mess. And squelching is a big part of cooking, if it ooooozes and drips it wins......I love messy eaters, nothing more appealing or appetising than watching as someone wipes their mosited up mouth with one of my kitchen towels. Standing on ceremony is for polite people. Even noises are allowed. Nothing is verboten in my kitchen. Food brings out audibles!
When I cook for someone I want them to enjoy every morsel, manners don't really come into it. Much prefer my guest to ask for more and more than to sit politely trying to make his pickled onion last forever. Much prefer enthusiasm.
Greatest thing I can give someone is food...
And the sweetest thing I can receive is wind:)
And as I mixed the mash and tuna together I wondered what is was about rissoles, patties and other savoury mounds that is so pleasurable.
Yes of course they all taste good, whether they be meaty rissoles made with leftovers or spicy patties popped in a seeded bun, all are moresome and most of all, friendly. I can't eat food which doesn't make me happy, cream crackers are cool and fill a small tum like mine, but to have some street cred they must be cheesily spread or jammed up with Hartleys raspberry. Bare crackers are quite depressing.
I have always had a penchant for fishcakes so this afternoon I've made some.
Here are the ingredients for four fat cakes.
(This recipe has taken years to evolve to this delicious stage, feel free to add or scrub ingredients.)
1x200g tin tuna in brine (drained)
300g mashed potato (add a little butter or your favourite spread)
4 chopped spring onions
a teaspoon of Anchovy essence (optional)
a pinch of ginger (freshly grated is good too)
some chopped parsley (dried is ok, I'm not a snob)
dill (optional)
grated lemon rind
pepper and
a touch of salt
Mix well and with delicate hands and form into four cakes. Dust sparingly with flour and allow to rest. Rest? They haven't exactly done anything but I think the flavours, given a couple of hours in the fridge, tingle on the tongue more.
You can dip in beaten egg and cover with breadcrumbs if you like. I sometimes do that. But not today.
Beefburgers are another huge favourite of mine, I like to poke a little piece of cheese in the middle before frying, it makes for a lovely squelching mess. And squelching is a big part of cooking, if it ooooozes and drips it wins......I love messy eaters, nothing more appealing or appetising than watching as someone wipes their mosited up mouth with one of my kitchen towels. Standing on ceremony is for polite people. Even noises are allowed. Nothing is verboten in my kitchen. Food brings out audibles!
When I cook for someone I want them to enjoy every morsel, manners don't really come into it. Much prefer my guest to ask for more and more than to sit politely trying to make his pickled onion last forever. Much prefer enthusiasm.
Greatest thing I can give someone is food...
And the sweetest thing I can receive is wind:)
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
Odds and Ends
Popped to docs so she could look at my brain. Can't give too much away, but she said how nice I looked and please would I go away:)
Getting to Sainsburys today was literally a nightmare, almost flood-like conditions, an insane reckless blonde woman driver who got my hooter working, a gay chat with Marc on the till and then re-heated rice on my catted-up lap.
An almost unbearable wait to hear David Miliband's obvious decision. Methinks Labour will inherit the wrath of the People in 2015. ED IS WRONG! ED IS A BUG-EYED TURNCOAT! DAVID IS GUTTED! GLO SAYS A RE-COUNT IS NEEDED...AND NOW!
NEW LABOUR IS NOW OLD LABOUR BUT OLD LABOUR IS CREEPING BACK WITH A NEW GENERATION WHO ARE YOUNGER THAN THE OLDER ONES WHO WERE ONCE THE NEW YOUNG ONES UNDER BROWN AND BLAIR.
A CALL FOR SOME UPLIFTING KINNOCK RHETORIC IS REQUIRED.
My knees need something.
Cooking tonight Sausagemeat pasta with garlic bread followed burpily by A Faux Spotted Dick.
The Dick is Faux on account of being nuked for mins instead of boiling for 4ever.
Got to plant Bulbs and will do it myself because Graham is 56.
I sprayed Silver glitter onto my hair today and sparkled in many dark places. Looked silly and bright but felt stiff, so stiff in fact that I knocked it with my knuckles to see if anyone was at home...:)
Getting to Sainsburys today was literally a nightmare, almost flood-like conditions, an insane reckless blonde woman driver who got my hooter working, a gay chat with Marc on the till and then re-heated rice on my catted-up lap.
An almost unbearable wait to hear David Miliband's obvious decision. Methinks Labour will inherit the wrath of the People in 2015. ED IS WRONG! ED IS A BUG-EYED TURNCOAT! DAVID IS GUTTED! GLO SAYS A RE-COUNT IS NEEDED...AND NOW!
NEW LABOUR IS NOW OLD LABOUR BUT OLD LABOUR IS CREEPING BACK WITH A NEW GENERATION WHO ARE YOUNGER THAN THE OLDER ONES WHO WERE ONCE THE NEW YOUNG ONES UNDER BROWN AND BLAIR.
A CALL FOR SOME UPLIFTING KINNOCK RHETORIC IS REQUIRED.
My knees need something.
Cooking tonight Sausagemeat pasta with garlic bread followed burpily by A Faux Spotted Dick.
The Dick is Faux on account of being nuked for mins instead of boiling for 4ever.
Got to plant Bulbs and will do it myself because Graham is 56.
I sprayed Silver glitter onto my hair today and sparkled in many dark places. Looked silly and bright but felt stiff, so stiff in fact that I knocked it with my knuckles to see if anyone was at home...:)
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
Cooking tonight:
Lincolnshire sausage risotto....Not an authentic risotto but so what! Sausages tasty and meaty, broad beans, carrots, corn and tomatoes mixed with long grain rice and flavoured with garlic and curry powder.
Soda bread rolls....Baked, split and buttered. Well not buttered, Bertolli Olivioed but so what! Warm from the oven, dusted and crusted.
Pud will be Neapolitan Ice Cream and crushed digestives, although come to think of it, I might rustle up a quickie jammy sponge. Quickie spongies are real comfort food especially when one has had a rigorous day:)
Ed Miliband bored me stiff. He is not Blair, neither is he Brown or Kinnock. He's bland but someone said he looks like Wallace...Maybe round the eyes....
He Ain't A Heavyweight...He's My Baby Bro
At 2 this afternoon Ed 'the red' Miliband will talk to the people, with his older brother David clamped to a seat in the audience. No doubt all eyes will be on er..both of them.
Could these brilliant immigrants become the new Brown/Blair?
No. Or has it started already? Yes.
I think David, the man-should-be-king, will retire from front line politics and pursue a career in something else and somewhere else, leaving wee Ed to the wolves. The wolves being just about everybody. Except the unions. Damn it all, I thought unions were dead or at least knackered. Cut to Bob Crowe...No me dears, unions are still sort of in control of everything but are definitely, without doubt the backbone of the Labour party. Obviously.
If Ed hadn't the support of the founders of the Labour party he'd be the one clapping in the front row.
David is Goliath. Ed, the stone...Sounds good not sure what it means:)
Anyway that's enough of that, I will watch all the theatricals this afternoon after I've dealt with men and money. God, I hate giving money to E on, my friendly kitten stamping energy supplier.
Boo hoo...I hate all men with lanyards hanging round their throats.
And not only do I hate men with muscles and threats attached I also hate prescription prices, cold weather and baggy eyes. Up at five to drive Jolly John to station. How anyone can look as good as he does after six hours sleep, beats me honey.
Back to the Brothers Miliband......I'm so glad I'm an only child.
Can't imagine anything worse than competing with a sibling..
Hell would be.... having a sis or bro with a blog better than mine.
X
Could these brilliant immigrants become the new Brown/Blair?
No. Or has it started already? Yes.
I think David, the man-should-be-king, will retire from front line politics and pursue a career in something else and somewhere else, leaving wee Ed to the wolves. The wolves being just about everybody. Except the unions. Damn it all, I thought unions were dead or at least knackered. Cut to Bob Crowe...No me dears, unions are still sort of in control of everything but are definitely, without doubt the backbone of the Labour party. Obviously.
If Ed hadn't the support of the founders of the Labour party he'd be the one clapping in the front row.
David is Goliath. Ed, the stone...Sounds good not sure what it means:)
Anyway that's enough of that, I will watch all the theatricals this afternoon after I've dealt with men and money. God, I hate giving money to E on, my friendly kitten stamping energy supplier.
Boo hoo...I hate all men with lanyards hanging round their throats.
And not only do I hate men with muscles and threats attached I also hate prescription prices, cold weather and baggy eyes. Up at five to drive Jolly John to station. How anyone can look as good as he does after six hours sleep, beats me honey.
Back to the Brothers Miliband......I'm so glad I'm an only child.
Can't imagine anything worse than competing with a sibling..
Hell would be.... having a sis or bro with a blog better than mine.
X
Friday, 24 September 2010
A Sour Wind
....And a sour wind came
and I was lost in its vapour
and it clouded and dulled my eyes
till all I could see was
a drunken mosaic of your face
...And in the mosaic
were rainbowed memories
which fitted together
like our hands
once did
....And as the now monotonous wind
droned
I longed, like a drunk, for the tap touch of your fingers
and as I longed,
I cried
for the unsaddened days of our togetherness
....And encrusted in my sadness, like hot sand in innocent flesh
were old fashioned memories
of imagination gone mad
and lights out
when in our dusky secrecy
we rode phantastic horses
and played unreal pianos...
Come play with me again.
and I was lost in its vapour
and it clouded and dulled my eyes
till all I could see was
a drunken mosaic of your face
...And in the mosaic
were rainbowed memories
which fitted together
like our hands
once did
....And as the now monotonous wind
droned
I longed, like a drunk, for the tap touch of your fingers
and as I longed,
I cried
for the unsaddened days of our togetherness
....And encrusted in my sadness, like hot sand in innocent flesh
were old fashioned memories
of imagination gone mad
and lights out
when in our dusky secrecy
we rode phantastic horses
and played unreal pianos...
Come play with me again.
Peering At The Gardener Through The Window
Graham turned up unexpectedly with ideas and an appetite.
Bless his nose hairs!
After discussing my inability/unwillingness to pay he swallowed a fancy...WHOLE. Either my fancies are small or he's starving. At any rate we came to another agreement and that was that my front needs attending and quick>>>>>>>>>>>>>And will he take a fiver on account of my crippling financial status.
He would.............So with a chill wind tangling his long grey hair he set about making a mess.
My cakes are fast becoming a passport to happiness:)
Now other stuff:
Yesterday little old Jimmy White was knocked off the baize by the Son of Lucifer a.ka. O'Sullivan, and in the post match interview he rambled and smiled and gesticulated bringing my annoyance with him to a new profound level.
I don't like him at all and the sooner some newcomer stuffs a ball down his throat the better.
There are champions we love and admire and champions we don't take to at all. whether it's O'Sullivan's lack of manners or disrespect for other players or his mental instability is really not important, what is important is that he's whipped. And hard. Trouble is there aren't many players who can make a dent in his malevolent armour. But things change albeit slowly and one sunny afternoon I'll watch with relish the beginning of his demise. Just like I watched Steve Davis's, Stephen Hendry's and others...O'Sullivan's time will come too and I for one long for that day.
Cooking tonight:
Cream Crackers and spreadable cheese. (Mr H. is working) So it's scavenger diet for the old lady.
An apple.
Mocha Fairy Cakes. There ARE a couple left!
Doing tonight:
Film.
Moisturising creams.
Positive visualizations.
Sleep.
Have to go, have to see what Graham is up to, he's looking a little peeky out there.
:)
Bless his nose hairs!
After discussing my inability/unwillingness to pay he swallowed a fancy...WHOLE. Either my fancies are small or he's starving. At any rate we came to another agreement and that was that my front needs attending and quick>>>>>>>>>>>>>And will he take a fiver on account of my crippling financial status.
He would.............So with a chill wind tangling his long grey hair he set about making a mess.
My cakes are fast becoming a passport to happiness:)
Now other stuff:
Yesterday little old Jimmy White was knocked off the baize by the Son of Lucifer a.ka. O'Sullivan, and in the post match interview he rambled and smiled and gesticulated bringing my annoyance with him to a new profound level.
I don't like him at all and the sooner some newcomer stuffs a ball down his throat the better.
There are champions we love and admire and champions we don't take to at all. whether it's O'Sullivan's lack of manners or disrespect for other players or his mental instability is really not important, what is important is that he's whipped. And hard. Trouble is there aren't many players who can make a dent in his malevolent armour. But things change albeit slowly and one sunny afternoon I'll watch with relish the beginning of his demise. Just like I watched Steve Davis's, Stephen Hendry's and others...O'Sullivan's time will come too and I for one long for that day.
Cooking tonight:
Cream Crackers and spreadable cheese. (Mr H. is working) So it's scavenger diet for the old lady.
An apple.
Mocha Fairy Cakes. There ARE a couple left!
Doing tonight:
Film.
Moisturising creams.
Positive visualizations.
Sleep.
Have to go, have to see what Graham is up to, he's looking a little peeky out there.
:)
Soul
Dad loved it.
Centre of attention, sky-high cakes, boogie woogie and me.
Today as the sun gets booted by millions of clouds, I sit pinked up and grooving as another dozen iced fancies sets...
Listening to Marvin Gaye as the fondant firms is about as cool as it gets.
Drifting whilst listening and grinding whilst singing along, pretty hot huh?
Snooker is shoved aside, for soul.
Waving my arms and tip tapping my heels I melt to The Four Tops and smile widely and openly to The Temptations. But It Is Just My Imagination that imagines I'm young again and it is Just My Imagination that one day my voice will be heard and my soul shared.
Ain't No Mountain high enough to hide love...
Centre of attention, sky-high cakes, boogie woogie and me.
Today as the sun gets booted by millions of clouds, I sit pinked up and grooving as another dozen iced fancies sets...
Listening to Marvin Gaye as the fondant firms is about as cool as it gets.
Drifting whilst listening and grinding whilst singing along, pretty hot huh?
Snooker is shoved aside, for soul.
Waving my arms and tip tapping my heels I melt to The Four Tops and smile widely and openly to The Temptations. But It Is Just My Imagination that imagines I'm young again and it is Just My Imagination that one day my voice will be heard and my soul shared.
Ain't No Mountain high enough to hide love...
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Fancies, Fun and Friends
What a fantastic day!
Heat, Easy Parking, Sexy Hair, Fingers Tapping Steering Wheel, Shades and White Shirt, then...
Hour upon glorious hour of CAKE MAKING... For Dad....
18 Pinkily Iced Fairy Cakes Topped With Mini Pink and White Marshmallows, Jellies and Chocolate Buttons.
18 Spicy Apple Fingers Made With Loads of Butter.
Then...Bare knees under the sun in the garden watching a sky straight out of a Fairy Tale.
Boy's Blue, Free and as Wide as the Universe.
Then...Tea.
Then putting the finishing touches to Dad's Birthday Present...A Homemade C.D.
...Duffy....Elvis....Robbie Williams....Fats Domino....The Pet Shop Boys...Nat King Cole....Willie Nelson....Ray Charles...Del Shannon..Alexandra Burke....Dusty Springfield.... Amy Winehouse...Shakin' Stevens....Gary Puckett and the Union Gap... Jim Gilstrap.....Tom Jones....Little Richard.....The Beach Boys....The Hollies.....Tony Bennett...
Signing his birthday card xxx
London Day Tomorrow....
If only most days could be as simple, pain free and as perfect as today...
Monday, 20 September 2010
My all time favourite player, the 'artful dodger' of snooker, Jimmy white will play O'Sullivan...
A craftier more loveable rogue I've yet to see who could tickle the baize the way White did. Still a great player? No, of course not, but the place will be stuffed to the roof to watch him take on the beast.
By the way here's what O'Sullivan said....
"Jan (the ref) talked me into it [potting the black]. My whole thing was I was going to make 140 and leave the black What's the point of making a 147 if they're only going to give you four grand for it?"
It's a sad and sorry day for snooker when people like him spit their bile over the baize.
I'm in such a tizz over this that my chicken pie is limp
A craftier more loveable rogue I've yet to see who could tickle the baize the way White did. Still a great player? No, of course not, but the place will be stuffed to the roof to watch him take on the beast.
By the way here's what O'Sullivan said....
"Jan (the ref) talked me into it [potting the black]. My whole thing was I was going to make 140 and leave the black What's the point of making a 147 if they're only going to give you four grand for it?"
It's a sad and sorry day for snooker when people like him spit their bile over the baize.
I'm in such a tizz over this that my chicken pie is limp
A Quick Rant
.......Just witnessed a vile moment in sport.
The 'legendary' Ronnie O'Sullivan had potted two reds at the start of a frame when he suddenly stopped to have a word with the referee about money. He wanted to now what the prize money for a 147 break was!
The commentators stopped mid-flow pondering this current manifestation of the madness of O'Sullivan.
Cut to the end of the frame, which O'Sullivan won, and his back stage chat with BBC commentator Rob. He wasn't going to bother potting the red because there wasn't any big money in it but the ref, Mr Jan Van de Haas (Or something like that) persuaded him to.
What the blue blazes is happening to sport when a nutcase, albeit a skilled nutcase like O'Sullivan can pick and choose which balls to pot. Big money and I'll bother, small change and I won't.
In his interview he stated that £4000 for the highest break is not much really, and when asked about pleasing the fans with 147's he shrugged his shoulders.
The 'man' is a disgrace.
.......Just witnessed a vile moment in sport.
The 'legendary' Ronnie O'Sullivan had potted two reds at the start of a frame when he suddenly stopped to have a word with the referee about money. He wanted to now what the prize money for a 147 break was!
The commentators stopped mid-flow pondering this current manifestation of the madness of O'Sullivan.
Cut to the end of the frame, which O'Sullivan won, and his back stage chat with BBC commentator Rob. He wasn't going to bother potting the red because there wasn't any big money in it but the ref, Mr Jan Van de Haas (Or something like that) persuaded him to.
What the blue blazes is happening to sport when a nutcase, albeit a skilled nutcase like O'Sullivan can pick and choose which balls to pot. Big money and I'll bother, small change and I won't.
In his interview he stated that £4000 for the highest break is not much really, and when asked about pleasing the fans with 147's he shrugged his shoulders.
The 'man' is a disgrace.
Snooker today on BBC2.... in between domestic duties.
Duties like:
Denzel Washington in The Bone Collector. Freeze frame the bit where he stares and swears. Love it.
Arranging appt. for hair. Caught a glimpse of it in a recent home movie and I resembled Lenny the Lion. Got to get it off. Lisa is a dream, will arrive a little late, caked in make-up and will then, in a matter of say, half an hour, transform me from Queen of the Jungle to Pixie on Fire.
Chicken pie, the making up thereof. How many more pies can I eat without exploding to a size 12?
Changing handbags. Which means my brain has been dazzled by the acquisition of a new woolly and so therefore it's all change in the accessory dept.
A few minutes of deep Feet concentration. Looked at the things this morning after a quick drip shower and pondered their miserable existence...Stuffed into tight boots, wrapped for hours in socks/stockings/industrial strength tights and squeezed into killer heels. They need attention. So out will come the Electric Sander.
I've got to go...Snooker is starting and I have to work my evilness on Ronnie O'Sullivan... AKA Son of Lucifer.
Ta ta..!
Duties like:
Denzel Washington in The Bone Collector. Freeze frame the bit where he stares and swears. Love it.
Arranging appt. for hair. Caught a glimpse of it in a recent home movie and I resembled Lenny the Lion. Got to get it off. Lisa is a dream, will arrive a little late, caked in make-up and will then, in a matter of say, half an hour, transform me from Queen of the Jungle to Pixie on Fire.
Chicken pie, the making up thereof. How many more pies can I eat without exploding to a size 12?
Changing handbags. Which means my brain has been dazzled by the acquisition of a new woolly and so therefore it's all change in the accessory dept.
A few minutes of deep Feet concentration. Looked at the things this morning after a quick drip shower and pondered their miserable existence...Stuffed into tight boots, wrapped for hours in socks/stockings/industrial strength tights and squeezed into killer heels. They need attention. So out will come the Electric Sander.
I've got to go...Snooker is starting and I have to work my evilness on Ronnie O'Sullivan... AKA Son of Lucifer.
Ta ta..!
Sunday, 19 September 2010
Steam Power
Almost impossible to describe the sensational taste of this pudding.
But I'll try.
First the ingredients:
Steak rippled with a little fat*, chestnut mushrooms, onions and garlic, thyme, beef stock, black pepper, Worcestershire sauce and Biere des Moulins. Original recipe asks for Guinness but all I had was lager.
A suet pastry, with parsley added for colour.
Simmered the meat mix for about 40 mins, let it go cold whilst I made the pastry and had a cuppa.
Lined small basins with pastry and then filled them. Covered with foil, leaving a good space for the puds to rise. Looked like a tent.
Steamed in a lid covered wok for 45 mins. Whilst cooking I had more tea, prepped some pots and opened a can of baked beans.
We looked at the beauties as they tried in vain to remain upright on the dinner plate, we didn't mind of course that one of them, John's, collapsed, allowing the steaming meat and veg to grace the secondhand blue plate.
Mash and beans snuggled up alongside and the knife went in.
So comforting and delicious were they that next week I'll be taking one on the train to London.
*Believe it or not I couldn't get Braising Steak in that idiot shop Somerfields, so I bought Frying Steak, but chose some which had creamy white fat running through it.
It was as tender as a fig.
Saturday, 18 September 2010
When The Master Away The Servant Will Play
The trouble with sunny mornings is that they make me want to get outside. But when I get outside I invariably get into trouble. either with trellises or cash. So, although the sun doth shine, I'll remain housebound.
Doing...
Steak puddings.
Internet mischief.
Erecting of ladders so I can hoist my sweet old frame up into the loft. he, he, he, he....
More later...
Doing...
Steak puddings.
Internet mischief.
Erecting of ladders so I can hoist my sweet old frame up into the loft. he, he, he, he....
More later...
Friday, 17 September 2010
"And All The Loveliest Things There Are Be Come Simply, So It Seems To Me". Edna St Vincent Millay...
A gorgeous day weather wise so what better way to enjoy the Autumn sunshine than to walk along Spa Road...
Charity shop 'Friends of Lions' Lady on till reminded me of an older Julie Andrews. Although Julie Andrews is quite old now. Must be in her seventies. At least. Lady on till wasn't wearing an apron or pulling hat stands out of voluminous bags. Lovely old thing she was though, made a comment about my feet, how small they are.
I bought...
A blue metal Mincer with attachments £1. Have wanted one for ages, now I have one, that's what I call happiness.
Royal blue doormat 50p. Just a mat. But ideal for big wet shoes come winter time. Was concerned that it wouldn't match the hall carpet, but I'd need to go a long way to find something so dreadful that it'd match my ghastly carpet.
'Persian Garden' style rug in blue, cream and red (5ft x 3ft) £5. Caused much conversation with t 'Julie' on the till. "Can you carry it?" "Where will it go?" "Nice thick pile". That sort of thing. She struggled as she rolled it but being elderly I'm sure she's struggled with a lot worse. Hands emblazoned with gold and hair as stiff as a lampshade. Lovely smile though.
A queer looking small yellow handled spoon. 15p. No idea what it's used for. Pickles maybe. It was the strangeness and wonderful colour which attracted me, never seen anything like it, and I've seen some spoons in my time.
Pic, probably coming the weekend along with the Wellington Boots.
An American book called "Chicken Soup For The Woman's Soul" A collection of essays, stories, snippets and poetry. Wisdom with an American accent. Lots of references to food and love, and the two are unquestionably linked. Nothing on earth beats the supremely blissful sensation of watching someone you adore/love/fancy dip his spoon into your soup or trifle. I could spend hours watching all my men friends drip over my meringues. Lovely.
Soft Salmon Pink jumper with black spotted pink blouse attached. Reduced rail. £1. Will team it with everything. Fits gorgeously and makes me want to lick raspberry ice cream and do a tap dance on the patio. It's that kind of sweater.
Somerfields With a heavy heart:(
Steak, beef suet and chestnut mushrooms for tomorrow's puddings. Unable to have a Chinese Take-Away on account of all the spending today. But mincers and mats make up for chicken balls:)
A heavenly simple day, spent a few quid, got some petrol, posted a letter to my Aunt Ivy.
Friday's don't come much more satisfying than that...
Charity shop 'Friends of Lions' Lady on till reminded me of an older Julie Andrews. Although Julie Andrews is quite old now. Must be in her seventies. At least. Lady on till wasn't wearing an apron or pulling hat stands out of voluminous bags. Lovely old thing she was though, made a comment about my feet, how small they are.
I bought...
A blue metal Mincer with attachments £1. Have wanted one for ages, now I have one, that's what I call happiness.
Royal blue doormat 50p. Just a mat. But ideal for big wet shoes come winter time. Was concerned that it wouldn't match the hall carpet, but I'd need to go a long way to find something so dreadful that it'd match my ghastly carpet.
'Persian Garden' style rug in blue, cream and red (5ft x 3ft) £5. Caused much conversation with t 'Julie' on the till. "Can you carry it?" "Where will it go?" "Nice thick pile". That sort of thing. She struggled as she rolled it but being elderly I'm sure she's struggled with a lot worse. Hands emblazoned with gold and hair as stiff as a lampshade. Lovely smile though.
A queer looking small yellow handled spoon. 15p. No idea what it's used for. Pickles maybe. It was the strangeness and wonderful colour which attracted me, never seen anything like it, and I've seen some spoons in my time.
Pic, probably coming the weekend along with the Wellington Boots.
An American book called "Chicken Soup For The Woman's Soul" A collection of essays, stories, snippets and poetry. Wisdom with an American accent. Lots of references to food and love, and the two are unquestionably linked. Nothing on earth beats the supremely blissful sensation of watching someone you adore/love/fancy dip his spoon into your soup or trifle. I could spend hours watching all my men friends drip over my meringues. Lovely.
Soft Salmon Pink jumper with black spotted pink blouse attached. Reduced rail. £1. Will team it with everything. Fits gorgeously and makes me want to lick raspberry ice cream and do a tap dance on the patio. It's that kind of sweater.
Somerfields With a heavy heart:(
Steak, beef suet and chestnut mushrooms for tomorrow's puddings. Unable to have a Chinese Take-Away on account of all the spending today. But mincers and mats make up for chicken balls:)
A heavenly simple day, spent a few quid, got some petrol, posted a letter to my Aunt Ivy.
Friday's don't come much more satisfying than that...
Thursday, 16 September 2010
It's strange what a woman gets up to when alone.
Just after 8 p.m. in the kitchen on my knees praying at the Mother-of-all-Cupboards for the whereabouts of two 300ml pudding basins.
Some ladies chill out with a white wine when hubby is working, but not me, I'm reddening my knees with head in cupboard because I want to make individual Steak and Guinness Puddings.
Heroic or absurd?
On a more serious note, an upset Graham phoned today and I did my best to help him. Don't know whether I did or not, but when we hung up he was laughing.
On a more ludicrous note I put handfuls of clippings/cuttings/tree stuff in the wheelie bin, hasn't made a jot of difference, still mountainous out there. Taking comfort from the fact that it's fun for the birdies and an obstacle for cats.
On a wilful note, despite Mr H's orders for me to be in bed by 21:00 hrs, I'll be hanging out at the lonely train station at 23:00 hrs.
Blast it all I can't have him walking the two miles home lugging a black brief case, he's 55, long haired and a geek.
Ta ta!
P.S. Found the basins:)
Just after 8 p.m. in the kitchen on my knees praying at the Mother-of-all-Cupboards for the whereabouts of two 300ml pudding basins.
Some ladies chill out with a white wine when hubby is working, but not me, I'm reddening my knees with head in cupboard because I want to make individual Steak and Guinness Puddings.
Heroic or absurd?
On a more serious note, an upset Graham phoned today and I did my best to help him. Don't know whether I did or not, but when we hung up he was laughing.
On a more ludicrous note I put handfuls of clippings/cuttings/tree stuff in the wheelie bin, hasn't made a jot of difference, still mountainous out there. Taking comfort from the fact that it's fun for the birdies and an obstacle for cats.
On a wilful note, despite Mr H's orders for me to be in bed by 21:00 hrs, I'll be hanging out at the lonely train station at 23:00 hrs.
Blast it all I can't have him walking the two miles home lugging a black brief case, he's 55, long haired and a geek.
Ta ta!
P.S. Found the basins:)
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Are Bulbs The New Cakes?
23 Crocus Yellow
10 Fritillaria
7 Narcis
20 Chionodoxa
20 Crocus Blue
20 Scilla
70 Daffs
10 Tulips
Overdoing it a little on the old blooms but once I get a notion I go all out on it.
The first six will be planted in and around the rockery, the rest in and around everywhere else.
Looking forward to a rainbow spring.
Also bought Killer Roundup for the plentiful Elder which is growing happily on my frontage
Just been out there spraying away and in my new booties too!
If any of my readers have ever questioned my sanity, here's something else for you to to ponder...I bought a pair of Wellington Boots.
Ok what's mental about that? Nothing if you're 12...
These boots are lime green and decorated with yellow ducks and pink flowers.
And Size One.
Children's.
I tried them on in Wilkos and they fitted like a snug glove.
Lovely I thought I'll have them.
And so it came to pass that just after midday I sprayed Killer Roundup wearing a white shirt, jeans and kids booties.
Mental.
But FUN!
A picture will no doubt appear some time...
What else?
It's really sunny like abroad. And really windy like hurricanes. And I wish I had a kite.
I'm pigging on a Fairy Cake. And the icing is nuclear wicked.
Alex has to go the garage tomorrow for an M.O.T. And I almost hit fifth gear today, just as I passed Roots Hall.
My nose is scarred and scabbed and there's a line of blood between my eyes and I literally nearly went blind.
I think I'm suffering from "Wellington Boot Syndrome":)
Ta ta!
10 Fritillaria
7 Narcis
20 Chionodoxa
20 Crocus Blue
20 Scilla
70 Daffs
10 Tulips
Overdoing it a little on the old blooms but once I get a notion I go all out on it.
The first six will be planted in and around the rockery, the rest in and around everywhere else.
Looking forward to a rainbow spring.
Also bought Killer Roundup for the plentiful Elder which is growing happily on my frontage
Just been out there spraying away and in my new booties too!
If any of my readers have ever questioned my sanity, here's something else for you to to ponder...I bought a pair of Wellington Boots.
Ok what's mental about that? Nothing if you're 12...
These boots are lime green and decorated with yellow ducks and pink flowers.
And Size One.
Children's.
I tried them on in Wilkos and they fitted like a snug glove.
Lovely I thought I'll have them.
And so it came to pass that just after midday I sprayed Killer Roundup wearing a white shirt, jeans and kids booties.
Mental.
But FUN!
A picture will no doubt appear some time...
What else?
It's really sunny like abroad. And really windy like hurricanes. And I wish I had a kite.
I'm pigging on a Fairy Cake. And the icing is nuclear wicked.
Alex has to go the garage tomorrow for an M.O.T. And I almost hit fifth gear today, just as I passed Roots Hall.
My nose is scarred and scabbed and there's a line of blood between my eyes and I literally nearly went blind.
I think I'm suffering from "Wellington Boot Syndrome":)
Ta ta!
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
I'm Cool
Tiffin, Recipe books and Doris Day. Sounds good to me.
Tiffin is a traybake of crushed biscuits, nuts, raisins and chocolate held together by syrup and butter then decorated in a swirly fashion with more chocolate.
Reading of recipe books is preferable to reading of teletext news and broadsheets. Imagination transports...... and juices flood my mouth. Lamb high on the list.
Doris Day teamed with James Cagney in 'Love Me Or Leave Me'. On tv today. One of Day's best movies, one of Cagney's less bloody efforts. Great acting, wonderful songs and beautiful people. A must see, must record.
The re-arranging and possible cupboardization of knicks and knacks. The dethroning of King Clutter. And, rising like souffle, the Prince of Calm.
Me dressed like a boy.
Lovely:)
Ta ta...
Tiffin is a traybake of crushed biscuits, nuts, raisins and chocolate held together by syrup and butter then decorated in a swirly fashion with more chocolate.
Reading of recipe books is preferable to reading of teletext news and broadsheets. Imagination transports...... and juices flood my mouth. Lamb high on the list.
Doris Day teamed with James Cagney in 'Love Me Or Leave Me'. On tv today. One of Day's best movies, one of Cagney's less bloody efforts. Great acting, wonderful songs and beautiful people. A must see, must record.
The re-arranging and possible cupboardization of knicks and knacks. The dethroning of King Clutter. And, rising like souffle, the Prince of Calm.
Me dressed like a boy.
Lovely:)
Ta ta...
Monday, 13 September 2010
Above and Beyond
Have convalesced, soon time for a comforting Shepherd's Pie.
In between making the aforementioned Pie I laboured in the garden under the direction of Mr Horsehound. Yes, I know....How can a man expect an injured lady to help out with a plaster strapped to her hooter.
I guess this is what comes from being seen as Superwoman...
So being totally under his thumb, I struggled on as best I could, although often stopping to lean against the water butt, but my dismal attempts to gain sympathy were brushed away, rather like the soil by the broken garage door. After a while and as the wind whipped my hair, I decided I couldn't cope any more so I came in, made a cup of tea and thought about blankets on the ground. (See pre-injury pic of me soaking up some rays)
This blasted garden renovation will see the end of me I'm certain, but until that fateful day I'll stoically soldier on...
With the help of Mr H., pies and Graham
Shepherd's Pie is a masterpiece.
Have layered it in an artistic manner.
Mashed carrots on the bottom, topped with beefy meaty mixture then a handful of buttered garden peas and all topped with smooth creamy mash.
Will be accompanied by Barbecue Beans. Barbecue? Yes the addition of brown sugar, English mustard and Worcestershire sauce MAKES BEANS BBQ. OK?
Just brushed a little finger over my injury:(
Will endeavour to eat my pie without thinking about conks.
Hard:(
Bye X
Sweet Pea Revenge
BANG!
The trellis sprung forth and I was splattered in BLOOD!
Those ever so delicate Sweet Peas had got their own back.
Luckily for me Mr Horsehound was on hand with a bucket of water and stupid plaster. I now look like I've done fifteen rounds with David Haye. Bridge of nose cut and bloodied.
Pictures unavailable...
Learnt Lesson#1
Leave the gardening to Graham:)
The trellis sprung forth and I was splattered in BLOOD!
Those ever so delicate Sweet Peas had got their own back.
Luckily for me Mr Horsehound was on hand with a bucket of water and stupid plaster. I now look like I've done fifteen rounds with David Haye. Bridge of nose cut and bloodied.
Pictures unavailable...
Learnt Lesson#1
Leave the gardening to Graham:)
Saturday, 11 September 2010
Autumn Wardrobe...
Soft Fawn and Hot Chocolate inlaid with gold!Perfect for a blogging Queen!
Giddy up old girl!
Glo Goes Out
Seeds, basil, parsley, leeks and parsnip. Non-organic. A gentle start has been made...G. will advise of planting techniques
Woollies, one mock lace effect in black, one soft-as-butter in fawn
Shortish black and white Tartan skirt. Fake buckle. Will team this with thick tights and generous smile.
Steel Grey mohair dress. Big buttons, will look fab cinched in with belt and rolling silver necklaces.
Big black cheap oval ring. A statement piece. My statement being I'm an impoverished artist.
Shampoo for gloss and shine. For blonde hair. Does grey count?
Black chain handbag with studs on the flap. Cross between Chanel and The Sex Pistols.
Red steel toothed Cat Comb. He loves it.
Chicken burger in Burger King:) Very salty.
Ribena
White wooden tray decorated with pale pink flowers. (£1:50 YMCA shop) Will serve tea and fancies from it. To men in leathers, suits or stetsons. Whatever.
Hard Broom in British Racing Green.
A splendid day by the seaside where the dominatrix in me yelled...And the old romantic said "there there, calm down".
All in all...Wonderful
Woollies, one mock lace effect in black, one soft-as-butter in fawn
Shortish black and white Tartan skirt. Fake buckle. Will team this with thick tights and generous smile.
Steel Grey mohair dress. Big buttons, will look fab cinched in with belt and rolling silver necklaces.
Big black cheap oval ring. A statement piece. My statement being I'm an impoverished artist.
Shampoo for gloss and shine. For blonde hair. Does grey count?
Black chain handbag with studs on the flap. Cross between Chanel and The Sex Pistols.
Red steel toothed Cat Comb. He loves it.
Chicken burger in Burger King:) Very salty.
Ribena
White wooden tray decorated with pale pink flowers. (£1:50 YMCA shop) Will serve tea and fancies from it. To men in leathers, suits or stetsons. Whatever.
Hard Broom in British Racing Green.
A splendid day by the seaside where the dominatrix in me yelled...And the old romantic said "there there, calm down".
All in all...Wonderful
Friday, 10 September 2010
Mum 'missed' another eye hospital appointment today, her reason, a 'funny belly'.
Having one eye is funnier.
I hate myself for being angry with her, but I am.
She is 73 with weak legs but that's no excuse for not getting on a bus or catching a cab in order to be able to continue reading.
I've offered to go with her but she refuses. Absolutely without question. "Shut up about it Ang ok?"
I'm not really surprised by this cavalier attitude to health, she's always been like it. Comes from being a gambler I suspect and from being a risk-taker extraordinaire. Risk-taking nutter.
Her own Mother once said to her (about her wayward lifestyle) "Don't you care Iris?" "No, I'm alright" was her skippingly light reply. And she was alright...
But eyes are different dear mummy dearest...With only one eye in working order how will you read comfortably, watch Noel Edmonds and see your daughter glowing with sexual satisfaction.
Damn it all, you will be a burden to the man with damaged lungs and a constant source of tears for me.
OK love-rant over, back to today and me.
Written a list of must-gets tomorrow. Top of the list a hard broom.
Watching videoed prog about Darwin.
Scrubbing and I do mean scrubbing some floors, got a lovely thick scrubbing brush and bottle of lemony zingy Ajax for the occasion.
Trying on my 'new' fawn/chocolate coloured cowl-necked woollen dress, rippled with gold lurex, a real sexy winter-warmer.
Cooking tonight:
Steak on a proper steak-plate.
Having one eye is funnier.
I hate myself for being angry with her, but I am.
She is 73 with weak legs but that's no excuse for not getting on a bus or catching a cab in order to be able to continue reading.
I've offered to go with her but she refuses. Absolutely without question. "Shut up about it Ang ok?"
I'm not really surprised by this cavalier attitude to health, she's always been like it. Comes from being a gambler I suspect and from being a risk-taker extraordinaire. Risk-taking nutter.
Her own Mother once said to her (about her wayward lifestyle) "Don't you care Iris?" "No, I'm alright" was her skippingly light reply. And she was alright...
But eyes are different dear mummy dearest...With only one eye in working order how will you read comfortably, watch Noel Edmonds and see your daughter glowing with sexual satisfaction.
Damn it all, you will be a burden to the man with damaged lungs and a constant source of tears for me.
OK love-rant over, back to today and me.
Written a list of must-gets tomorrow. Top of the list a hard broom.
Watching videoed prog about Darwin.
Scrubbing and I do mean scrubbing some floors, got a lovely thick scrubbing brush and bottle of lemony zingy Ajax for the occasion.
Trying on my 'new' fawn/chocolate coloured cowl-necked woollen dress, rippled with gold lurex, a real sexy winter-warmer.
Cooking tonight:
Steak on a proper steak-plate.
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Housewife Heaven
Bought Mini Butterscotch Chips and Jelly Drops for decorating fairy cakes.
Imagination in overdrive since I started making Fondant Icing instead of regular glace icing to glaze little cakes... have been topping the aforementioned iced cakes with regular hundreds and thousands, chocolate strands, crushed chocolate covered peanuts and shaved chocolate. All stupendously wonderful but I feel like branching out a little, so will be stocking my shelves with cake craft stuff.
Mini marshmallows appeal so do snipped jelly babies. Goes without saying but I'll say it anyway that any dinky confections would look and taste great stuck to sticky icing
Not very fond of glace cherries though, either in their natural state or plumped full of artificial colour, so will therefore stick with sugary things.
Nuts.
Are another cute adornment, be wary though of bags of 'mixed' nuts because these tend to be heavily weighed down with peanuts, ideal though for Carrot Cake. Each his own, each his own.
Brazils are best, with walnuts a close second.
Desperately want to make something with Pecans, feel the urge to whip up a sticky steamed pud with pecans on its bottom.
Could be dangerously moresome.
Watched on of my fav programmes at the mo...The Great British Bake-Off. This week it was pudding week, so I sat erect taking note.
Ooodles of traditional puds were made for the judge's tongues to taste. Most were unctious but all but one of the five remaining contestants failed on the Lemon Souffle test. Damned difficult things to make souffles, and as soon as I saw those flat browned tops I knew it was curtains for the amateur cooks. Except thingy with the blonde hair, pink face and irregular teeth, her souffles were the best, had risen nicely and weren't masked with icing sugar.
As I gardened this afternoon (!) I thought about sheep's stomachs.
These horrible smelly bags were used ages and ages ago as a 'wrap' for pudding mixtures. Imagine if you will going to Sainsburys looking for rank innards. I would. After all I do eat livers. Which reminds me, one day last week I was loitering without intent in the market square, and as I loitered I looked in the butcher's window and saw Lamb's Hearts. I smiled inwardly...Very good stuffed.
Talking of stuffed.
I was early this afternoon, been cooking I had, when all of a sudden I needed some air so out I stepped into the garden and being in a frightfully good mood I set about clearing out some old died-in-their-pots veg, not before salvaging the last of the tomatoes and three short carrots though.
Have visions for my small patch, can see me now.....Summer 2011....Herb Garden.... Soaking up the sun whilst pinching Basil in my shorts.
Imagination in overdrive since I started making Fondant Icing instead of regular glace icing to glaze little cakes... have been topping the aforementioned iced cakes with regular hundreds and thousands, chocolate strands, crushed chocolate covered peanuts and shaved chocolate. All stupendously wonderful but I feel like branching out a little, so will be stocking my shelves with cake craft stuff.
Mini marshmallows appeal so do snipped jelly babies. Goes without saying but I'll say it anyway that any dinky confections would look and taste great stuck to sticky icing
Not very fond of glace cherries though, either in their natural state or plumped full of artificial colour, so will therefore stick with sugary things.
Nuts.
Are another cute adornment, be wary though of bags of 'mixed' nuts because these tend to be heavily weighed down with peanuts, ideal though for Carrot Cake. Each his own, each his own.
Brazils are best, with walnuts a close second.
Desperately want to make something with Pecans, feel the urge to whip up a sticky steamed pud with pecans on its bottom.
Could be dangerously moresome.
Watched on of my fav programmes at the mo...The Great British Bake-Off. This week it was pudding week, so I sat erect taking note.
Ooodles of traditional puds were made for the judge's tongues to taste. Most were unctious but all but one of the five remaining contestants failed on the Lemon Souffle test. Damned difficult things to make souffles, and as soon as I saw those flat browned tops I knew it was curtains for the amateur cooks. Except thingy with the blonde hair, pink face and irregular teeth, her souffles were the best, had risen nicely and weren't masked with icing sugar.
As I gardened this afternoon (!) I thought about sheep's stomachs.
These horrible smelly bags were used ages and ages ago as a 'wrap' for pudding mixtures. Imagine if you will going to Sainsburys looking for rank innards. I would. After all I do eat livers. Which reminds me, one day last week I was loitering without intent in the market square, and as I loitered I looked in the butcher's window and saw Lamb's Hearts. I smiled inwardly...Very good stuffed.
Talking of stuffed.
I was early this afternoon, been cooking I had, when all of a sudden I needed some air so out I stepped into the garden and being in a frightfully good mood I set about clearing out some old died-in-their-pots veg, not before salvaging the last of the tomatoes and three short carrots though.
Have visions for my small patch, can see me now.....Summer 2011....Herb Garden.... Soaking up the sun whilst pinching Basil in my shorts.
Tuesday, 7 September 2010
Feet and Fairy Cakes But No Bolognaise
The garden is looking bigger.
My cake tin however, is almost empty!
Graham arrived in shorts and flip flops and proceeded to work till he dropped. And all for a few fairy cakes. Bless him.
As he raked I baked, and the more I baked, the more he ate. But a few iced fancies are worth a couple of hours work in my opinion.
In between filling the green bin and ripping up weeds...
We yakked... about our youth, racism and the benefits of the Clematis. And while all this went on, soul filled the airwaves, he tried in vain to join in with Mr Wonder but broke into a coughing fit which needed more tea and a soothing word.
Then out he went again, this time to clean the slabs surrounding the rockery, my God he got muddyfied, so with him being built like a Michelangelo statue and me being slave-like, I offered him a bucket of hot soapy water in which he could dunk his enormous feet.
In they went and before I could say Master, I was in a puddle soaping his toes. It's funny you know how simple necessities like the cleansing of feet can make fools out of us all. He gurgled like a baba as the scented water turned black as I whispered sweetly about his hard skin.
He's a good egg is Graham, not too bright but well quipped for manual work.
Cooking tonight:
Eggs and bacon
One fairy cake
Forgot to make the Bolognaise :(
*Footie soonie oh goody
My cake tin however, is almost empty!
Graham arrived in shorts and flip flops and proceeded to work till he dropped. And all for a few fairy cakes. Bless him.
As he raked I baked, and the more I baked, the more he ate. But a few iced fancies are worth a couple of hours work in my opinion.
In between filling the green bin and ripping up weeds...
We yakked... about our youth, racism and the benefits of the Clematis. And while all this went on, soul filled the airwaves, he tried in vain to join in with Mr Wonder but broke into a coughing fit which needed more tea and a soothing word.
Then out he went again, this time to clean the slabs surrounding the rockery, my God he got muddyfied, so with him being built like a Michelangelo statue and me being slave-like, I offered him a bucket of hot soapy water in which he could dunk his enormous feet.
In they went and before I could say Master, I was in a puddle soaping his toes. It's funny you know how simple necessities like the cleansing of feet can make fools out of us all. He gurgled like a baba as the scented water turned black as I whispered sweetly about his hard skin.
He's a good egg is Graham, not too bright but well quipped for manual work.
Cooking tonight:
Eggs and bacon
One fairy cake
Forgot to make the Bolognaise :(
*Footie soonie oh goody
This Is A Bad Post
England v. Switzerland
Radio 5 Live 19:45
Will listen to the game whilst watching the Bolognaise bubble and listening out for the key of Mr H...Could be along wait thanks to Crowe and his minions...
At 22:00 last night I watched as a disgruntled Mr H. shuffled to my car after his usual two hour journey took three hours.
Crowe and the 'Controller' of Liverpool Street station should be hung. Lies upon lies were told to 'customers' regarding train times and other insignificant things like that. A train left Liverpool Street for Southend Vic but all were turfed off halfway, at Shenfield. Mr Controller obviously deciding the sweating punters were messing up his platforms. These people were NOT told that there journey would be aborted halfway.
So it was left to the little folk at Shenfield to deal with angry passengers. And then a voice over the Tannoy..."The Controller at Liverpool Street has said no to the request for taxis".
21st century and thousands of pounds in fares and the boys and girls on the 19:05 are left stranded whilst the millionaires and shareholders of Network Rail or whatever it's called get home quickly.
I don't know quite what I'm saying what I do know however is that something has to be done to thwart Crowe and his ilk. He rattles on about safety being the issue, bollards to that, I think they
just want to be home in time for the England match!
So paranoid am I, that I've checked if the planned strike days coincide with England matches. Only today's.
The others are on 3 October, 2 November and 28 November. No games take place on these dates. But why these dates that's what's bugging me. Crowe is an evil twisted little man, apparently the most hated in England. I've said this before but if I ever came face-to-face with the rat I'd smack it.
I thought the days of being held to ransom by the unions were over.
Ok rant over.
Today the gardener is popping in, I don't know why because I've already told the giant what I want and where and how little I'm prepared to pay. But if he wants to waste his time trying to win me over about the glories of growing Brassicas, then that's his look out!
Blast yer eyes Sir all I want is for you to tidy, cut and dig, not proselytize.
Being stirred wildly today:
Bolognaise
Emotions
Fairy cake mix
Blood pressure
Scone mix
Bile.
Fondant icing.
Umpteen cups of tea.
Don't forget to listen to the football or watch it if you have Sky sports. And don't forget to curse Crowe:)
Radio 5 Live 19:45
Will listen to the game whilst watching the Bolognaise bubble and listening out for the key of Mr H...Could be along wait thanks to Crowe and his minions...
At 22:00 last night I watched as a disgruntled Mr H. shuffled to my car after his usual two hour journey took three hours.
Crowe and the 'Controller' of Liverpool Street station should be hung. Lies upon lies were told to 'customers' regarding train times and other insignificant things like that. A train left Liverpool Street for Southend Vic but all were turfed off halfway, at Shenfield. Mr Controller obviously deciding the sweating punters were messing up his platforms. These people were NOT told that there journey would be aborted halfway.
So it was left to the little folk at Shenfield to deal with angry passengers. And then a voice over the Tannoy..."The Controller at Liverpool Street has said no to the request for taxis".
21st century and thousands of pounds in fares and the boys and girls on the 19:05 are left stranded whilst the millionaires and shareholders of Network Rail or whatever it's called get home quickly.
I don't know quite what I'm saying what I do know however is that something has to be done to thwart Crowe and his ilk. He rattles on about safety being the issue, bollards to that, I think they
just want to be home in time for the England match!
So paranoid am I, that I've checked if the planned strike days coincide with England matches. Only today's.
The others are on 3 October, 2 November and 28 November. No games take place on these dates. But why these dates that's what's bugging me. Crowe is an evil twisted little man, apparently the most hated in England. I've said this before but if I ever came face-to-face with the rat I'd smack it.
I thought the days of being held to ransom by the unions were over.
Ok rant over.
Today the gardener is popping in, I don't know why because I've already told the giant what I want and where and how little I'm prepared to pay. But if he wants to waste his time trying to win me over about the glories of growing Brassicas, then that's his look out!
Blast yer eyes Sir all I want is for you to tidy, cut and dig, not proselytize.
Being stirred wildly today:
Bolognaise
Emotions
Fairy cake mix
Blood pressure
Scone mix
Bile.
Fondant icing.
Umpteen cups of tea.
Don't forget to listen to the football or watch it if you have Sky sports. And don't forget to curse Crowe:)
Monday, 6 September 2010
Rain on the Green
A wind
more fit for March
undressed my hair
and rain
more suited to April
toned my plum coloured cheeks
As truth filled our coffee cups
and honesty flattened the pillows
a tractor joke made us laugh
Our book is aged
with pages stained
its spine
notched with errors
but overleaf
and at its end
a chapter
as yet unread
more fit for March
undressed my hair
and rain
more suited to April
toned my plum coloured cheeks
As truth filled our coffee cups
and honesty flattened the pillows
a tractor joke made us laugh
Our book is aged
with pages stained
its spine
notched with errors
but overleaf
and at its end
a chapter
as yet unread
Sunday, 5 September 2010
Love Rules
This is what I want and I want it NOW!
Luncheon is served
So at home...
Snapped up by the fireplace with the Maitre d'
Up the workers.
Dear Nof was the perfect host; unflappable, charming and insanely generous , and Mrs Nof, although armed with a fearful handbag, was sweetness personified as she ordered a rack of Black Faced Lamb and Miss Worth, John's hot blonde sister giggled whilst luring me onto the bitter Campari Road...
Rules ticked with history, as inch after inch of wall space was taken up with cartoons, drawings and paintings, and a pen length away from where I sat was framed a letter of appreciation dating from 1898.
This is the very place where Edward VII had assignations with the actress Lillie Langtry and where literary gods like Thackerey, John Betjeman, Kingsley Amis and H.G.Wells ate and drank. I felt so very much at home.
As the all male, black-suited waiters flitted like beautiful sleek birds from table to table I sat opposite John, my eyes sweeping over and around and up and down trying to absorb it all. It was quite simply breathtaking so, in between courses and family chat, I took myself upstairs and looked at the pictures on the walls.
I imagined Graham Greene hunched over some venison whilst a sin-laden character roamed his head and lawyers and judges in shades of black drowned their mistakes in brandy. Then in the corner of my mind crept the figure of Charles Dickens, his clothes tightly buttoned till the recently swallowed pheasant proved too much and the gaudy waistcoat was flung open.
Musing about writers, actors and members of the Fourth Estate disappeared quickly when a plate of barely-cooked Calf's Liver was placed in front of me. I hardly needed to a knife, so tender and smooth was it. The Calf's liver was not alone, on top of it was a rasher of crisp bacon skewered to the liver by a spear of Rosemary. Supporting the meats was a perfect torpedo-shaped mound of chive mash surrounded by a pool of clear amber jus.
To balance things up and to bring this dish back down to earth, two large bubble-light battered onion rings and a squiggle of caramelised onion rode the liver to new heights.....
Before eating I just sat and looked.
As the men dipped their big knives into some Sirloin and Mrs Nof eased the Lamb away from its Rack, Miss Worth flaked her Halibut. All were silent. Good food and deep and meaningful love rips the tongue from its strings. Eyes pooled over with lust, and sighs of satisfaction were just heard above the tinkling of silverware. Was I in culinary heaven, literary heaven or lovey dovey heaven? Did it matter?
Many others were seated around and about the great room and every hour the big loud clocks chimed. And how I roared with them. To me there's something magical about loud chiming clocks, with their ding donging on every quarter hour. And as the big clock broke in I shivered because suddenly Mr Wells was in the building again...H.G. Wells wrote The Time Machine and in the Hollywood version a multitude of clocks chimed all at once making a symphony out of hundreds of wooden-housed cuckoos.
And right as the clock struck one I thought of Wells.
By now the cameras were out and satisfied smiles were captured for all eternity.
Then the raven-haired waiter brought the huge menu once again...
John can't get enough berries so he went for Summer Pudding and Clotted Cream. Mr Nof stuck with rib sticker Treacle Sponge and Custard
And after much deliberation between the ladies Mrs Nof went with Eve's Pudding complete with Rose Water and Custard, Miss Worth remained slightly organic and chose Gooseberry and Elderflower Fool, I plumped for Chocolate Pudding with Custard and Clotted Cream.
And as we lifted our faces from the plates I clocked the very discreet pink-tied Mr Maitre d. What a lovely little man I thought. I'd like a picture of him. So we poured our tea from silver teapots and drank from heavy cups and as the boys and girls talked I hatched an innocent plan.
We all rose to leave and John collared the head man and asked if he'd allow himself to be snapped with a lady.
He said "Of course, I'd love too and I know a nice little place too...." My heels couldn't carry me to the mantlepeice quickly enough.
Meanwhile Mr and Mrs Nof and the Divine Miss Worth chuckled and gathered together their senses. The lunch had been sublime, the company heavenly and it wasn't over yet because it was all back to the grand apartment of Miss Worth for more tea. And after catching up on all the news we stepped out onto the flagstones for a slow walk to the Angel tube station, past Boris Johnson's house, past pigeons and cafés and tourists. On our way we snaked, and I chatted to poet Nof about the perils of rhyme and love.
At the Angel my ticket played up at the barrier and so I zoomed in on a jolly looking card carrying member of Bob Crowe's union and made him laugh. "It went in but shot out again" I said in my bestist Barbara Windsor voice, my eyelashes batting the ceiling.
He almost had to stop talking to his mate to help out...
I had a fabulous day with the Nofs and enjoyed the luvviness of Miss Worth. Dandelion and Sorrel indeed...
Families eh?
You can't choose them but as families go this one isn't half bad...
Friday, 3 September 2010
Not long now...
Before Capello's Crusaders march out to the sound of roaring, thunderous, eathquakian heartbeats.
How they boil and explode these steadfast England fans...
I'll wear my cap I suppose.
I said I'd had enough of watching England but, you know how it is, even when something you love gives you grief, you can't stay away.
So I'll zoozoo by vuvu.
Yes still got it. Laying on the windowsill in Monty's bathroom.
And so my lips will purse and blow as some awful band strike up the Bulgarian anthem. But when OUR anthem fills Wembley, I'll be up, clad in fine English attire, tartan kilt and killer heels saluting her Majesty.
I'll also be salivating over the prospect of a Bulgarian BloodBath.
Lovely.
Before Capello's Crusaders march out to the sound of roaring, thunderous, eathquakian heartbeats.
How they boil and explode these steadfast England fans...
I'll wear my cap I suppose.
I said I'd had enough of watching England but, you know how it is, even when something you love gives you grief, you can't stay away.
So I'll zoozoo by vuvu.
Yes still got it. Laying on the windowsill in Monty's bathroom.
And so my lips will purse and blow as some awful band strike up the Bulgarian anthem. But when OUR anthem fills Wembley, I'll be up, clad in fine English attire, tartan kilt and killer heels saluting her Majesty.
I'll also be salivating over the prospect of a Bulgarian BloodBath.
Lovely.
Pre-Match Waffle
Fondant Fancies or Victoria Sponge?
England, Bulgaria or a draw?
Victoria Sponge with Fondant Top.
England I hope, if Bulgaria win then Capello sleeps with the fishes. A draw and the team suffer the wrath from phone-ins.
Mug him Rooney :)
Thursday, 2 September 2010
Middle age is advancing quicker than I'd feared.
I thought my gardener was coming today but he didn't, so after checking diaries and stuff I realized I'd made a blunder. Memory becoming bleary rather like my eyesight this morning.
What does a gal need to do to keep her marbles rolling?.....
Eat regularly?
Sleep tightly?
Kiss dirtily?
Bend frequently?
Scrunch on Mondays?
Hydrate massively?
Be interested in baking, the dimplelization of inner thighs and Richard Dawkins?
Grab a younger man?
Only one of the above.
P.S. England play tomorrow night but I can't remember who
I thought my gardener was coming today but he didn't, so after checking diaries and stuff I realized I'd made a blunder. Memory becoming bleary rather like my eyesight this morning.
What does a gal need to do to keep her marbles rolling?.....
Eat regularly?
Sleep tightly?
Kiss dirtily?
Bend frequently?
Scrunch on Mondays?
Hydrate massively?
Be interested in baking, the dimplelization of inner thighs and Richard Dawkins?
Grab a younger man?
Only one of the above.
P.S. England play tomorrow night but I can't remember who
Celebrations All Round
Mr H. is celebrating his birthday by editing to death 'The Telly Tubbies' for our overseas friends.
I, on the other hand, am celebrating his birthday by washing towels and making pies.
But there is an ink stained light in the distance because on Saturday we are being taken to the oldest restaurant in London, 'Rules' in Covent Garden. This fabulous event has been organized by my most avid follower, Nof and his sweet Judo loving wife, the petite but lethal, Mrs Nof.
Can't wait.
So as Mr H edits grown-ups in scary outfits and I crimp pastry for the gardener our thoughts are on glamming up for some excellent British food in an establishment frequented by writers...
Happy Birthday Dear!
I, on the other hand, am celebrating his birthday by washing towels and making pies.
But there is an ink stained light in the distance because on Saturday we are being taken to the oldest restaurant in London, 'Rules' in Covent Garden. This fabulous event has been organized by my most avid follower, Nof and his sweet Judo loving wife, the petite but lethal, Mrs Nof.
Can't wait.
So as Mr H edits grown-ups in scary outfits and I crimp pastry for the gardener our thoughts are on glamming up for some excellent British food in an establishment frequented by writers...
Happy Birthday Dear!
Wednesday, 1 September 2010
Just Stuff
I met a man today by picking up his Nectar card in Sainsbury's. He was, you see, unable to retrieve the plastic thing on account of being 99 years old.
This information he freely croaked to both me and the cashier.
Bought two more of the same shade of lipstick, so enamoured of it am I. Some lipsticks have the ability to make the mouth pout even when in a supermarket or at traffic lights.
Whilst Mr H. drove slowly through some congestion in West Street I smiled at an honest lowly workman, he stopped, that's the workman not Mr H, stopped as if impaled to the ground by a spade. Lovely.
Spreading a little happiness was my reason.
I made a simple dinner tonight. Pork chops and veg and apple sauce followed by syrup sponge and custard. Again spreading happiness.
Frighfest continues on Film 4. Recorded 'Bug' the other night so will, after Mr H has washed the dishes, watch the crawley film. Monty has a new habit of sticking his bum in my face whilst at the same time resting his face on my knees. The position of indifference/love/comfort. His night time revolves around snoozing with Ma watching gore flicks and yelling at Kevin the cat, who could be gay.
I chatted with a friend today about wire wool and screwdrivers.
Like I said. Just stuff.
This information he freely croaked to both me and the cashier.
Bought two more of the same shade of lipstick, so enamoured of it am I. Some lipsticks have the ability to make the mouth pout even when in a supermarket or at traffic lights.
Whilst Mr H. drove slowly through some congestion in West Street I smiled at an honest lowly workman, he stopped, that's the workman not Mr H, stopped as if impaled to the ground by a spade. Lovely.
Spreading a little happiness was my reason.
I made a simple dinner tonight. Pork chops and veg and apple sauce followed by syrup sponge and custard. Again spreading happiness.
Frighfest continues on Film 4. Recorded 'Bug' the other night so will, after Mr H has washed the dishes, watch the crawley film. Monty has a new habit of sticking his bum in my face whilst at the same time resting his face on my knees. The position of indifference/love/comfort. His night time revolves around snoozing with Ma watching gore flicks and yelling at Kevin the cat, who could be gay.
I chatted with a friend today about wire wool and screwdrivers.
Like I said. Just stuff.
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