Most Invigorating

No I didn't venture outside instead I laid some insulating fur in the loft:) And very pleasant it was too...
Looked like a twat in skirt and hat but so determined was I to keep the cold out of the kitchen and bedroom, that I HAD to have a go.

The roll of insulation was fat, furry and brown and rather kind of sweet so sweet in fact that I wondered what else I could use it for...Make a hat? Make a bed for the cat? Or even make birdie nests?

I soldiered on only hitting my head once, picked up two splinters though by the water tank and joyously discovered two large handbags in a box:)

Squatting was a bit of a problem but my legs held together well considering how long I was up there. It isn't done expertly of course, how could it be, but at least it affords a little protection from Mr Frost.
Cobwebs hung like faded ghostly necklaces, no spiders I'm pleased to say, but I did speak to the wasp's nest hanging like a gnarled and grizzly wart....just in case any were still alive.

I won't allow people to view the loft. However much they pinch my chilblaines. The fur is down and down it will stay:)

Now sweet coffee and a jaffa cake.

Mr Shackleton. Quite mad. Insanely brave.

Mrs Shakleton I'm not.

~Ok that's enough snow for now...The north copped it now we southern softies are staring in disbelief;) Watched some news and saw sledges of a northern make being dragged by robust sorts but I dare say if snow continues down here in the balmy tropics, tv pics will show laughing herberts on Wimbledon common chucking frozen missiles at each other. Aaaaah!

So predictable.

What would make chilling viewing would be old dears in old hats blowing their fingers to prevent death.
But we don't want to see real life, we want to see glowing teeth and hear raucous laughter as yet another arse dents the snow.

I wouldn't mind so much if I had Shakleton's heart, but that's buried on the island of South Georgia with the rest of him. Ernest wouldn't cry over chilblained toes, they'd be snapped off and fried before you could say ouch:)

Talking of my hero....

Just did an expedition to the bird feeders and what thanks did I get...Just a couple of manky pigeons stuck to the aerial.
But oh their brave hearts. Respect.

My large bird table had toppled over but after a quick kick and scrape it was erect again. Iced over water butt and frozen bird bath all lending silence to the blitzed scene. After refilling the bird feeders I stood for a sec looking at the baby apple tree, yes of course I felt sorry for it, out there, it's juvenile roots buried and its long spindly arms reaching skywards and fencewards, nothing I can do for it all I hope is that the bark I laid down recently helps in some way. Everything to me has feelings.


~As I sip more coffee (run out of tea and toes too purple to press gas pedal to shop) I'm deliberating over sausages...
Whether 'tis wiser to wait for a bake or lean over the gas ring shoving them about a bit in the pan.
Hmm.
Bake I think.

~Annywaaay...I'll mix up some barbequed beans and smash some mash so a real winter warmer for our first snow fun day:(
God I hate this weather.
Makes me long for pine trees and sand in my belly button.

"I've been working at a traveling job for going on two years now. Nothing international yet, but I've been to the four corners of the US and everywhere in between. I fell wild, crazy in love and didn't hardly write the whole time; my love took everything from me, part and parcel, and ran off with another man. I'm sure it's good fodder but I don't know what to do with it. Now I move from city to city carrying only a suitcase and an empty heart. I'm essentially lost. No need to add this to your comments; I just wanted to keep in touch. If the mood strikes you, drop me a note sometime. "

This was sent to me by an old chum, he's a writer you know...No need to add this to my comments? Writing doesn't get any better than when we bleed.

Oh Just Today....

The live web chat went better than I expected.
There were ten of us answering questions and exchanging, often funny views, about the BBC's weather website.
I, of course, had a field day.

It went something along the lines of "Click on picture A, do you think it's clear and concise?" So we all put our two pennorth in, it's funny how, like at a school disco, everyone was well mannered and a little hesitant at first, but once the first person got rolling, the others followed.
Jokes flew regarding the vagaries of the British weather and tittle tattle rattled regarding wind chill and picture galleries. So unwanted by all and sundry.
We all agreed that weather symbols were easy on the eye but no-one agreed with me on my tinkling music for sudden snowfall:)

It was a good experience and one I'd like to enjoy again.

Cooking tonight:
Aubergine and Lentil Sauce
Spaghetti
Double Gloucester cheese.
Poppy seed soda rolls

Very much doubt Mr H. will be in the mood for pud, probably be home too late for that, due to Crowe and his minions.
But tomorrow is another cold day and I'll be off somewhere, no doubt ducking and diving for my pleasure:)

Mustn't forget to record Panorama tonight, it's about the alleged dodgy dealings surrounding FIFA officials. These true and upright guys have the say in whether or not England will host the 2018 World Cup. Should be worth a watch.

I've got chilblains:(
Need to invest in thicker socks.

And on that soppy note I must fly..........

"The capital is locked down this morning across the board"
Bob Crowe.

It's amazing what turns some people on.

Xtraordinary Factor.

Cher. So predictable. Legs and ribbons. I must be getting old.
Katie. Gorgeous, talented, ballsy, little madam, junior luvvie, eyes to die for, an artist.
Wagner. Hot in a suit. Big tum not a problem. Smile hiding hurt?
One Direction. Goo.
Mary. No soul. And no soul earns her nil points from me. Songsters should spit pain and/or love. Aren't they the same?
Rebecca. Incredible recording voice. But no stage presence.
Matt. Made me cry.

Beef casserole today.
Chunks of beef braised very slowly in a herb enriched stock, with carrot, swede, onion, potato and leek. Then, when it's all but done..... dropped on top....dumplings.
To end....A Queen of Puddings, a soft sweet custard smothered in raspberry jam then crowned with meringue...

Now I must fly........................

Didn't want to leave the sheets this morning. Absolutely zonked from all the hoo ha of yesterday. But the old lovely was cooking dad an omelette when I phoned this morning so.........

A bit of silly news...On Monday I'm taking part in a BBC net chat with 11 other people, should be a hoot, providing the moderator has a sense of humour;)

We'll be asked questions about the BBC's weather site.....
"More animation I think Sweetie".

I'm getting paid for my presence and will endeavour to uphold the BBC vision to inform, educate and entertain!

London....No Love You No More

Mum is home.
Dad is relieved.
I am shattered!

Lots of ridiculously expensive shopping.
Cleaning what was only noticeable....
Washing a few items in the sink
Imparting wisdom to a I-choose-to-be-deaf- dad,
Long worded phone 'chats' with nursie who couldn't understand why mum 'ran away' from the ward.
Freezing walks to and from hospital.
My dissing of a tenner for taxi fare causing a minor pointless argument....
If I choose to walk, let me get on with it.
A relieved, but spoilt- beyond- imagination dad having a hissy fit because of the stress.
A quiet resigned bandaged mum on the edge of the sofa
and a headache for me...

I love Essex;)................

Monty miaowed when the door opened and I wanted to eat him.

Downed an Orange and Passion Fruit J20 in one unladylike gulp:(

I am now going to bed...it's been one of those days...Tired Smiles
and much wanted relief...
come at last.

Come on...up you get!

Just before I go outside to get the birds up, must just tell you all that dad said, in his late night call, there's a good chance mum might get out today...
With, of course, half of London's antibiotic supply...

Will be there later...

Christmas Thoughts Invade......As the cottage pie bubbles...

Salmon puffs. Utterly moreish. Only time I make choux pastry. Only time I open a tin of salmon

Chocolate eclairs. Only other time I make choux pastry:) Only time I delve interiors. Damp innards are intolerable.

To tree or not to tree. Hmm. Low key maybe. Low key means no tree. Or a wee tree. Hmm. Major soul searching occurring over tree erection. Could be some time before a peaceful solution ends the dispute between love of tradition and hatred of cat hurled baubles.

Fruit cake. No. Dry and falling to bits reminds me of my feet.
Yule Log. Oh yes. Sweet, dark and impregnated with chestnutty cream. A grown girls sex toy. Dippy dippy, licky licky, piggy piggy...very problemy problemy the very next day.

Parsnips. The desireable guys of the vegetable world. Tall, sweet and a little lined.

Drink. No drink. The devil's buttermilk would see me offering myself as gift to be unwrapped. Cor!
Christian festival. So please no buttermilk:)

Just a quickie before a much needed coffee

Sainsbury's done.

Two cottage pies almost done and an apple tree planted, hopefully in the right way. The stake supporting the young tree is half the handle of a broken broom.

Ta ta!

Coldy Woldy Up The Boldy!

Aye!

It's a chilly willy.

But off to Sainsbury's to get bits and bobs for mama. Dad has already issued orders about what NOT to get.
Yeah yeah yeah yadder yaddder yadder... like I'm listening....Shut up loser.

On a less threatening note...I'm on the look out for some sparkly hair slides:)

£4 for two small drinks

and a nasty shock from the doc.
mum has Osteomyelitis. So said the gentle doc...she spoke quietly and imparted a oad of information about bones and stuff then smiled and went on her way.
Bugger this we all said....
She therefore won't be heading home any time soon.
And as for the dinners, well according to dad last night's delight was half a baked potato.
Mum of course sweetly shoved it to one side.

Today we took her a salmon and watercress sandwich, two oranges and for her heads sake, two bags of blooming crisps. I will, when I go on Friday be packed out with good stuff.... Homemade rolls filled with salmon and ham, small apples, cake and Ginger Beer:)

After a little huffing and lot of puffing dad traipsed down to the hospital shop where he paid £4 for two small bottles of 7 Up and Diet Coke. The cashier didn't understand when dad asked about old fashioned lemonade. You know the yellow stuff with bits of lemon flesh laying at the bottom..
She will. on Friday have a litre of that too.

God. This is bloody awful and it's not only dad I feel for, he's so lost without his better half, but feel to my bones for mum whose sitting there like a bedraggled dolly.

When one of the orderlies came round she asked mum why she hadn't ordered her 'dinner'. Apparently mum was so sickened by the potato last night she couldn't face another vegetable shock...But after a little persuasion from me, she ordered chicken and mash. And ice cream.

So with a little luck she'll eat her chicken and a little later on enjoy the luxury of a M&S Sandwich:)

So we chatted and laughed and went silent and then chetted again, then I had to get going, so after a couple of firm handshakes, we don't do goeey goeey.... I headed out...but not before collaring the lovely lady doc....
"What's up Doc" I said. "I'm Angela, the daughter".

The scan has shown that the infection has spread from the tissue to the bone.
"And?"
We'll need to sort out another antibiotic routine. And take it from there...
"Bottom line?"
I can't even type it.

But it won't come to that, for 73 she's a vibrant old bean who, the doctor said, is a little impatient...Oh really!...

Me just got home and will be heading out again soon to pick up a man....after I've downed my now cold coffee! Yuk!

Mum comes first...

8:30 pm Spoke to dad on phone. Mum went down for a scan mid morning Returned from scan to find her 'dinner' cold on the table. She was tired and hungry so dad went outside into Praed st. to get a ham roll...
As he told me this I felt sick.
NHS under pressure...but this beggars belief. Still like everyone keeps saying, she is in the 'best' place.

Me, no dinner. Obviously.

Time now 10:36. Waiting for Mr H. to get home. Better hurry up, his chips are almost burnt. And he has an early start in the morning.

I am wondering whether or not to go to London tomorrow, could take some food I suppose, Friday was supposed to be my London day but I'm in a bit of a pickle now.

Welcome

~My Apple tree has arrived so I've put it in a bucket of water until I can plant it.

The instruction sheet advises planting as soon as possible but if not, place it in a garage. No apple tree of mine is going in my garage, it's dark and drippy in there. No place for a thing of beauty.

At nearly four feet tall it's a splendid looking thing, tall with tender young finger-like branches spreading out like a baby's hands, in search of something to cling to.
I've already held it to my breast welcoming it to its new home, and so as soon as I can I'll grab a shovel, a stick and a pair of ladies tights and settle it into the earth.

No food tonight on account of Mr H working late. But earlier I yummied over two hummus spread batons and half a pint of Dr Oekter's Passion Fruit and Mango yogurt, Drooling....
Might indulge in some jammy toast just before 8.

~Bought mum a second-hand coat this morning, soft grey wool with furry collar, might shave off some of the fur because she's not really a furry kind of gal. The coat is in excellent condition and is knee length too, so.... so far so good. Will take it to her some time this week, hopefully she'll try it on in the comfort of her own front room:)

Now tea and piece of Mrs Gordon's Boil and Bake Fruit cake.
This is made in a saucepan so very little washing up:)

Ta ta....!

It's no good I have to tell someone......

I've only gone and blagged my way into getting a job interview:)

Whether Mr Claydon thinks I'm suitable for this exhilarating position is out of my control. I can but try:)

He's agreed to see me on Wednesday.

It's marvellous having the cheek of the devil...

Er...............

With a pint of tea I watched the X Factor.......... it was Beatles Week.

Was happily surprised by little soul man Paije. Like him when he doesn't lark about in gross pink coats. Stick to black dear.

I was in singing heaven with the adorable Katie Wassell. New barnet...genius. She looked gorgeous. And to add icing to the sweet thing she sang perfectly.

Wagner was insincerely humble when apologising to Common Cole. He roughed up Lennon and McCartney but is forgiven by me at least on account of his foreign entertainment value.

One Direction had me wishing I was 12 again. They are the next massive boy band waiting to happen. All pretty boys with hairs growing everywhere:)

Searching for the right notes was lovely Rebecca Ferguson. I like this girl but this week's song choice by Common Cole was way too big for her. Could prove costly.

Nothing wrong with the swing I shouted at Cowell as he dissed Cher's high rise performance. I thought it was one of her best. Much prefer it when she isn't so made up, her voice is all the gear she needs. Sweet.

Shirley Bassey she ain't. The Dublin till girl Mary Bryne is not, repeat not a diva. She may have diva boobies, diva sparkles and diva XL size but being in possession of those does not make one a Diva. 'Something' is one of my fav Beatles songs and Bassey sang it perfectly. Bryne mouthed it large but she left me aching for a pint.

Matt Cuddles in a vest. Oh please.... Is there anything the Essex painter can't do?

I got an earlier train to London so arrived with plenty of time to go to Waitrose, cook puddings and talk. And boy did we talk. That's dad and me.
Dad wheezed as the love flowed and said how lost he feels without her...you know, he misses how she waits on him, argues with him about vests, talks with him about everything and other inane things like that.

Later...
We held hands by the the kerbside and I used my other hand to grab a cab and so flat capped dad and beret headed me shot along the darkening streets to Thistlewayte ward in St Mary's.
How different the roads and people look when you're 'in the zone'...

Mum looked like a dolly.
A little white head protruding from the top of a sweet overly pink dressing gown and with pale hands resting on The Mirror.
Dad plopped into the comfy chair while I bagged the hard one.
"You're as tough as old boots Ang"
"You're as tough as old boots".

"Thanks Lil" I smiled "You're a soldier too" (Lil is a nickname which was born many decades ago.)

So I studied her without showing it while dad went mental with newspapers and tangerines.
I hate to say it but my tongue went into overdrive because I also talked almost non-stop. Most uncharacteristic. Then nursie came round to plug mum into the national grid so she could get her full hundred quids worth of meds. Being a closet comic I made a fanatstic joke about being a coke head:)

By now it was getting night time dark outside, so on with the lights and with that, more banter from me and dad mostly to do with age and how horrible it is when he gets out of puff just making the tea.
Mum of course has heard all this sorry stuff before, but me, I just said give me all your money daddyo and head out onto the black streets before the boogie man comes.
I could see this was becoming such a bore to him and he really needed to go home.

He left after kissing mum on the forehead and holding my hand! WHAT? Still I suppose fear and loneliness makes the gooey stuff come out. Felt good though feeling his hand again.
Before going he dropped me a tenner saying it was for a taxi to Queensway station...He he he thought the wicked daughter....

Mum's dinner came about 7, bloody inedible it looked too, two tiny pieces of beef with five painfully thin slices of potatoes! Not even WHOLE potatoes. The NHS, bless its heart, sure knows how to keep its customers slim. She shoved it around a bit, even mangaing to eat a little, but after a little blackmail she did at least eat the potatoes.

We chatted like best friends. mostly as usual about men and love and hard skin, then with a sad heart I said I had better get going.
One last order from me...Keep behaving yourself and you'll be on your way home...
I then slid my hands under the blanket and tickled her thighs.

After a sardine journey to Stratford I bagged a seat on the big train next to bloke asleep. Lovely.
Home at 9 to Monty and a fat mug of very sweet tea. Calories are so unimportant. Now.

Well that's about it, I could say more, but I won't. Much rather get on with making a fat brown beef casserole with giant booby dumplings.
:)

Omen 2 was bad.
Noodles though were good.
Been busying myself with the putting up the new curtains...Not sure about them, bit over the top for a kitchen and has had me searching for Autumnal coloured bric-a-brac:(
AND also the newly re-vamped sky blue dresser is looking a tad out of place, Oooops!
Anyone got a tin of brown paint coagulating around?:)

This drastic make-over of the kitchen is all my Mother's fault. Because she's in hospital I'm going barmy!
But....there isn't anything I can do for her NOW, but tomorrow I'll have a nosey around and see what's what.

I love her desperately you know.


Ok back to tonight's festivities, I'm feeling a bit on edge so a slow wind down with the laugh-a-minute movie 'Cabin Fever' might get me in the mood for diving beneath the blankets in my under garments:)

Goodnight All
X

Bowl of noodles and 'Omen 2.'

Then sleep under the red cover.

Just phoned dad. Mum is being kept in hospital overnight. And so now I'm in a state. He has to back to the hospital later today with some of her things, God I wish I was there.
I'll go tomorrow morning.

I had a feeling this would happen.
Wish Mr H. was here but he won't be back till tomorrow afternoon then he's out again. Bugger.

Popped out this morning.
Bought curtains and a cockerel.

Helps take my mind off of mum and her feet. She's at the hospital today, appointment was at 10, haven't heard anything yet.
So as I wait to hear what's happened I'll put up the 'new' kitchen curtains.

Sorry about this post but I have to air it and I haven't had a sandwich yet. and I've been in for an hour:(

"Let yourself in" they said "Because we will be at the doc's".
Mum's feet have gone elephantine.

Two hours later I was sticking my key in the lock. No movement. Fiddled and wiggled with it, nope.
So waited for an hour on the rain smacked ice balcony for an hour.

They looked pale on arrival.
They'd forgotten to tell me they'd had the locks changed.
No problem I said and I meant it.

The doc was kind and prescribed penicillin for the infected foot...
The skin on her left foot has split and turned nasty. He would phone the diabetes clinic and make an appointment for her.

She was livid which was amazing on account of her being so weak. And there we all sat, her not eating and dad fussing around like an old woman.

I talked too much because I felt fearful. Then the phone went, it was the doc saying he'd like to give her another prescription and would she go back........Expletives flew through the tears.
"I'll go and get it" I said as cheerily as I could.
Dad of course wouldn't allow it he thought it'd be best if I sat with mum for a girl to girl natter.

We went out instead. And gassed. Mostly about boys.

But mum could barely walk so on entering our fav charity shop she sat down on the big chair by the door. This worried me. I waltzed around like an idiot picking up stuff to show her and then after gazing at idiotically priced handbags, found her a purse of questionable taste. She loved it.

As she got up she waddled so I allowed her to hang on to my arm and off we went to the next shop. She wasn't herself though, not in any way shape or form and I raged inside, well I would wouldn't I? Here was my heroine ashen faced, lumpy legged and quiet. No sir didin't like this one jot.
But I got the seal of approval on a preposterous red hat.
Then we headed home stopping in the showers every few yards so she could stand on one leg. Fuck this.

Home to dad grappling with the hoover and another phone call. This time from the hospital. My God I thought, her GP has acted quickly. Bless him. A kind gentle man with a name sounding like a medicine. Fluxman.

Anyway dad was continually asking the caller to 'repeat that please' so I offered to talk.
It was Sean from the Podiatry clinic and would your mum please come tomorrow to see Julie and Dr Valahajahaj or something.
"Yes of course" I said writing all this down.
Mum went ballistic.
"Why don't they leave me alone" she screamed.

Not much you can say to that.

The afternoon went painfully by with mum's dreadfully swollen legs resting on a pouffe. Dad's losing his hair and patience. And I was force fed Eccles cakes. "What about the cake I brought up ?" I said like a little brat.

Am I over reacting or am I normal? I admit to panicking any time the old dears fail their MOT....I rage because there's nothing I can do except talk.

Now I have a cracker, can't be arsed with sandwiches. And if I get away now I can watch 'In the Line of Fire' with the very gorgeous boy, Clinty Eastwood.

Crouchy 1 France 2

Stair rods of rain, new kids 'playing' for England and a capped Capello!
What's happening?

France out classed Fabio's boys, no doubt about it, but it wasn't all gloom, there was a strong warm light coming in the shape of Andy Carroll. Powerful, tall and a sweet crosser of the ball. Didn't get a goal but I'll forgive him.
It was as usual down to Crouchy to save the day, the essential beanpole came on after Gerard got whacked. And a good job too, otherwise we'd have been very slaughtered by the French instead of being only slaughtered.

I'm gutted John.

'Invented' a cake.

Ok...baked a regular 8 inch fatless chocolate sponge.
Split it.
Bottom spread with naughty Nutella.
Nutella topped with whipped double death cream.
Cream scattered with grated dark fair trade chocolate.
Top put on.
Carefully.
Top dusted from a great height with icing sugar.
Icing sugar kissed with cocoa.
Cocoa embellished with dots of Hartley's apricot jam.
Apricot jam nutted with toasted flaked almonds:)

Sat satisfied.
Then baked a dozen old fashioned Rock Cakes.
Just for the pleasure.

Now I must fly back into the kitchen where an egg awaits the frying technique.

Then bed with the England boys.


:)

Woooooo! Me excited!

.............Just burnt my tongue on steaming spring rolls...........................Got mega amount of baking to do so.........Have footie flick 'The Damned United' on standby...........Gas man just read meter........................noted the numbers then shoved him out........grrrrrrr.................Must fly............Not yet............Am spiffing excited about England v. France tonight........Will be.........Alone but juicing up at the thought of a Nutella and Capello............Paid 16p for a loose Turnip........

Now I Fly>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Should This Fierce Magpie Be Allowed To Let Rip?

Yes.
England will need villainous birds like Newcastle's Andy Carroll if they are to duff up France tomorrow night at Wembley.

Fabio Capello has already named him as part of the team but whether or not he actually plays is something else.

The bad boy who has, as part of his bail conditions, been living with another more stable player, could bring the necessary height and vigour England currently lack. At 6ft 3in Carroll could head without mercy.

I say bring him on, never mind what he gets up to when out with the boys, it's what he can do to salvage the reputation of the England squad that matters.
Never has England needed a demolition man more than she does now.

On a more feminine note.
Last night I fell asleep a little later than usual on account of watching half of Black Hawk Down on C5. What I watched I liked. But being of a delicate nature my old eyes just couldn't stay open till the end.
I do look bright today though, so happy days!

No cooking today, not unless you call pouring some gravy over a few left over meatballs, cooking.
As Mr H. is doing the spooky shift I'll manage on very little;)

Now I must fly......................!

Blood Diamonds

"It's night, so it's no shock, that Viveca, by her insipid lemon light, shreds more of his rubber banded letters amour.

Already, by the gate, are weeping black bags overflowing with tales from the liars mouth.
"Oh come to me my heart awaits" he wrote and so she did and on arrival found chaos.

Being a woman who bore her pains silently she chose to wipe his dirt, settle his debts and sing whenever he cried. In the spring they painted the walls rose and planted apple trees in winter because their love would last forever.

But on a day when he was away Viveca had reason to doubt so with steel knots bruising her stomach she rifled through his life...

Files on rifles and war and metallurgy and a diary from last year stood back to front in his dark mauve room and as this was her lover's space she hesitated for a few seconds, but Viveca fingered his silent possessions and found the name of a girl anyway.

A sudden swipe from a demon and Viveca's life drowned away as all manner of violet posied words came flittering off the page.
"To you my darling soldier I owe my life and so because of you I live in grace
"And to you my sweet girl, my one true love, I offer all myself"...And other nauseating bile...

Viveca with rage icing her bones to death and a heart pumping in a mad sadness she read on...
The words from the secret girl dragged her soul into the mauve room where it was set upon, kicked to death and then finally left, like a cat tortured by a once affectionate child.

His room didn't look so charming now, its walls faintly ridiculous with cheap maps of the world browning and playtime plastic skulls eating dust on a shelf... it was the room of a boy got older. And so Viveca decided, without a doubt, that the letters amour sent by him to her, his dearest Viveca, would make good nests for rats.

With each tear and each rip she shred her life to bits and carried on and soldiered on making like she didn't know and baking cottage pie for tea...
"One can't destroy love" her Mother once said "It's there through good or evil"

But one day after a night of false passion and without pennies or a life of her own, Viveca chose to die. Then a ring on a phone which had Viveca answering by default.

"It's me my dear" came his voice from West Bersham "I'll be home before you know".
Sliding down the papered walls she knew they had to die, because life without love is no life at all.
And life with endless lies is worse. No, she thought, as the carpet made imprints of roses on her legs, I have to end this pain.
"What was this?" she murmured as the cold kitchen blade smarted along her veins. "I'm not alone and not afraid"
And her blood bled the carpets red.

A dragging sensation from the neck down had her mind bereft of feeling, just a sweet disappearing and hunger for aloneness was all the pale girl felt. Outside was birdsong. And as if to crown the child with a kind of forgiveness her face was bleached of all sin it was as if all her pain was draining out into the carpet she once adored.

A soothing nod was all she got from the man at the portal of Hell.
"You've left your life " he said "But not it all, you are free to play up there..."

And as the bloodied flowered frock caked from hell's heat, she sprang high above scorched cinders spinning a jaunty dance... She raced red hot through crowds of cowards and people who just did wrong and while she spun, the girl who was good, planned some revenge on the man who bled her dry.

"Hello dear" he laughed, as his fat keys scratched the table.
"I'm here with a trinket for you"

Leaping onto a cupboard behind the bedroom door Viveca sat cross legged.
Her face wasn't human, not any more, it smelt of all things dying. And below, on the floor drips of robin red blood settled nicely making a mound.
Her gentle small hands with a diamond on a finger clasped each other with impatience...Her dress a mess, scary dreadful mess like death had lent a putrid hand.
A scuffle on the stairs and screech from the cat said her old love was on his way up and biting her lips till spit ran out the ghost on her day out, tapped.

The door sprung open and he was there barking "Where's my sweet poppet?"

He turned and saw his other true love.

Mince Alert.....

Changed my mind about tonight's tea.
It's toodle pip to the cottage pie and hello hunks to a plateful of meatballs.
Am feeling amorous and Italian so a dozen or so medium sized meatballs seems fitting. Will pile them on top of spaghetti with ladlefuls of spicy tomato sauce poured over.
Blubber mudder.

In the oven right now is a 9 inch gingerbread overloaded with ginger. What IS the point of medium?
If something has the word 'ginger' in it let let the ginger rock.
With some things there should be no half measures...

Ginger.
Tea.
Bras.
Chocolate.
Toothy smiles.
Sugar.
Great ideas.
Toast.
Adventures.
Nuts.
Affection.
Buns.
Innuendos
Split sausages.
Laughs.

No more, you're spoilt enough already.

Who Turned The Thermostat Down?

Yikes!
Ice alert.
Hate the cold.
Hate icicles hanging anywhere. Especially from my lashes;)
But I'm a plucker who pluckily soldiers on.

What a palaver on last night's X Factor.
Wopsy Dopsy Katie in the last two again. I did feel for the girl. There's no way I said to myself, that the blonde babe will survive another week, but she did. And in the process telling Aiden to shove off.
It was only at the very last dying moments did I feel an iota of sympathy for the weird singer. When asked by Dermot (who's straight) what he was going to do, miserablist Aiden answered...'have a beer'.
Bless him.

Group Therapy.
J.L.S. were über cool. Smoothed and riched up. Glossy and excellent. Money and make-overs...
Westlife looked über über cool in their black and white clobber. But so a group your nana would pee to.
Take That looked rich and wizened. Especially Howard. Gary looked fleshily yummy. But as it always will be...It was Robbie all eyes were upon. He sang like a re-habbed nightingale. Had the moves and kind of stuffed the others.


Doing today...melting in front of the fire:)

Baking today....A cottage pie...aaaahhh!

Tea was yummy.
Beef and orange casserole with plain boiled rice. No accompaniments were needed. The succulent casserole was packed with tender beef, tomatoes, onions and whole mushrooms complete with stalks. And to give the dish extra extra zing I added a wee but more apricot jam than the recipe suggested. Result. A burnished golden glow woozing over my eyes when I lifted the lid.
Food should not only taste divine it should satisfy the eyes too. And this casserole certainly did that.
For pud I concocted something with apples and syrup and a simple sponge mix. Nuked it for 3:30 mins....And hey presto a nursery pud to die for... (I'd intended to finish yesterday's Gateau but woofed it down this afternoon whilst sitting on the sofa.) OOOPS! It is IMPOSSIBLE for me to get down from the table without scooping up a spoonful of custard...

So....nothing else for me tonight.
I daren't:)


Can't wait to watch the X Factor... Who do I think will leave tonight? Not a clue. Who do I want to leave tonight? Aiden or Mary or Paige. They leave me smileless. Am so excited about seeing Take That and the very pleasant Gazza.

Paige by the way showed his true colours last night. After Simon said he (Paige) would probably be heading home, the young lad huffed and shrugged then sulked off. He DID look angry. That my dear Paige is the rotten hard world of show biz. He is sort of likeable but only because of his chubby cheeks. He is no Luther van Hire:)

Bye!

Last night the X Factor hopefuls proved what a fabulous singer Elton John is.
They attempted, and I do mean attempted, to please us by singing some of Reggie's hits.
Oh dear.

Katie was the worst. Could hardly hear the song bird. But looked adorable with her red scarf wrapped around her bleached hair. A madam no doubt but an adorable one.

The best, Rebecca Ferguson. Her voice, apart from being her own...is an explosive cross between Eartha Kitt and Joan Armatrading. Honeyed dynamite.

Wagner was atrocious. Gold foiled jacket singing God knows what with enough dancers so as to take it off of him a bit. Great smile but zero talent.

One Direction had me squeezing my arthritic oil all over the screen.

Cher was ok. But to part-rap to an Elton song was a no-no for me. Brave but not to my taste.

Matt Cuddles aimed and scored, never a miss from the soft faced Essex man.

Aiden should concentrate on keeping his quiff stiff and leave the singing of loved tunes to people who are not pratts.

Mary Byrne is the pub singer in "Get Carter". Amply bosomed, a belter and er that's it.

Have I forgotten someone who's forgettable?

Can't wait to see who receives the order of the boot tonight. But that, in a way, is secondary to what must be the highlight of tonight's show...Not only will the new kids on the block, the French Letter merchandisers J.L.S. do a turn, Westlife will be on the bill, but top billing goes to the one and only, the nation's favourite, those men of a certain age...TAKE THAT!
Am all over the shop anticipating this plethora of hormone inducing male totty.
(For the record Ken Barlow's son Gary has always buoyed my vessel.)

Cooking today:
Something I cooked yesterday.
A hot and spicy beef and orange casserole.
And the last half moon of my Gateau Moka aux Amandes...

All Cooking Makes Glo A Hot Bunny

My beautiful cake.

A wedge of light sponge coated in coffee butter cream and covered with toasted almonds.

Nasi Goreng. Rice, pork and vegetables seasoned with pepper, curry powder and soy sauce. Served with stripped omelette and tomato. Light and spicy.

After last night's poetic effort I feel I need to calm down a little. Absolutely adored penning it, so went to bed satisfied.

And so.....despite being breakfastless I made a cracking Orlando Beef casserole for tomorrow and will, after having a fried eggy dinner (not saying lunch any more) embark on the thrill of my young life by making a Gateau Moka aux Amandes;)

There's no doubt this blooming cake is giving me the willies but I can't wait to see how it turns out and most of all can't wait to taste it...Hopefully tongues will be lickingly happy!

I haven't of course forgotten tonight's tea, Nasi Goreng, this Indonesian dish will be rustled up when and if I can pull myself away from the Gateau:)

So me dears I have to go back to the kitchen of love to cook and watch Football Focus... whilst fingering a cold 9 in cake tin.
Lovely.

Love Saturday's x

Darling...Poem

... I don't need the dark when embedded in the black
and thoughts of sweet cherry windmills
waving in fields of gold
makes being alive hurt
so take yourself to kingdom come
and let me progress through my term

Money and Food

Could be getting some cash from the BBC. Could be.
A while ago I filled in an online questionnaire regarding their weather website, they then emailed asking if I'd be interested in playing a small part in an online discussion about...the weather. I said yes of course. I now wait to hear if I'll be one of the chosen few who gets to chat with other stay- at- homes about... weather symbols!

Cooking tonight.
Eclectic mix of chicken legs, risotto, mini beef pud (made with left over beef) and toffee apple pudding.
Glurk:)

So pleased it's the weekend. Might head to the seaside to pick up valuables from the 99p shop.
And fisherman's socks from Primark.

Boots and Cheek

Bought a Calor gas cannister today and chatted up the talkative chap doing the selling:)

"Any jobs going" I asked him after having a in depth conversation about the demise of the beautiful game and Capello's disgusting salary.
His answer lasted fifteen minutes.
Bottom line. No vacancies currently but I "certainly have the personality for selling tractors and compost":)
Slipped him my phone number just in case...

Went straight to Hockley where I bought a gorgeous red fleecey blanket, a pair of black industrial looking ankle boots and "The Higher Taste" a guide to gourmet vegetarian cooking and a Karma-Free diet.

:) The men in white coats are on their way:)

Hello All

Winter draws on so I helped a friend as he generously offered to ease my pain by insulating my loft.
Five hours and two puddings later it was done. We concentrated on the main rooms, leaving the others to ice over.
As I peered on hands and knees at the dust, mousetraps and general junk I wondered if my pal wasn't taking on too much, but like the big soldier he is, he achieved what he set out to achieve. Namely to keep me from turning blue!
Now THAT is what I call a friend.

I made sure he was fed and watered and the steak pudding was much appreciated alongside the carrots and green beans, the mountainous mash however, was a mound of mash too far:)
After he'd recovered from a lady's scolding he went loftwards again, this time to finish the beastly job...

What a hoot it is being drenched in sweat and cobwebs and what joy it is to be on the receiving end of such incredible generosity.

Last night's fishcakes were delicious, could have done with a touch more Anchovy essence but all in all a lovely little supper dish.

The apple and almond cake was applauded too. Made it with cox's apples instead of Bramleys, much sweeter of course but that was fine...It was exciting seeing small pieces of red apple embedded in the yellow flesh of the cake and the almond flavouring .... just heavenly.

Bought some blanched almonds and Camp coffee today for the Coffee cake I'm making at the weekend, will use my new thermometer if I can figure out the' green thing'. The 'green thing' is made of a rubber type material and covers about half an inch at the bottom of the probe. I've flicked it wondering whether or not to remove it, but being an absolute winkle just stand there staring at it...
I dipped it into a cup of hot water and the temp went up a little, so I suppose I leave the green thing on. Call yourself a cook Horsehound?

(The pic on the box shows NO green thing at the end)
I've googled for answers but can't find any.
I even asked a fellow blogger for help.

Anyway, I shall make the cake, green thing or not!

Today I'm making Lemony chicken with mashed potato and mixed veggies, pud will be the last of the apple cake.

Talking of veggies...I saw my neighbour Old Mike as I heaved out groceries from the back of Alex, he asked if I felt well...? Yes I'm ok thanks Mike.
After a natter about Greengages I came in and looked in the mirror:( Did I look poorly? No I looked ok, bit flushed around the gills but other than that, alright.

Bought a bottle of Mushroom ketchup to use in a vegetarian dish I'll be making sometime soon. the bottle is a work of art so is perched on a shelf alongside the Anchovy essence (same type of bottle same manufacturer).

Good Lord it's cold...:(

Now I must prepare food for today and tomorrow whilst half watching and fully listening to students yelling their anger towards turncoat Clegg...

This afternoon, after baking an apple and almond cake, I went out into the rain, slid into Alex and drove to Hockley.
Parked up in a bleak quiet car park.

Hockley was deserted save for a few older ladies in macs and two lads carrying a parcel of fish and chips. As I strolled I also clocked a stuck- up looking gentleman in a Merc yammering on his mobile, super cool he thought he was, but to me, such a dangerous wizened old twat.

My gait was slow because I didn't mind getting wet. The shop windows were glazed by incessant rain and the floor of the road shone like tacky black pvc but all looked beautiful to me.

On entering the first charity shop, Friends of Lions' I was met by no-one. Empty shop except for the Mrs on the till. A few heart warming words were passed about you know what then I looked around.
And then I saw a handbag...
This is good I thought. And as I struggled to disentangle it I knew it was good. Soft as butter stone coloured John Rocha (Designers at Debenhams) handbag with a cute handle.
Easing the lovely thing open I let my hands fondle its interior. Very tiny but oh so smooth. I was gasping.

So holding it close I went about greedily picking up a pair of matching candlesticks and a gorgeous grey and white skirt originally from Tesco's.

The Mrs on the money smiled at my goodies, took about £3, and bade me farewell.

Feeling on top of the moon I sloshed my way to the next one.
Wherein I bought, for a pittance, a larger than normal beehive honeypot. Again verbal exchanges regarding the rain.

I then splashed to the car and roared home to play with my trinkets:)


Being cooked tonight...
Tuna fishcakes with added anchovy sauce, lemon rind and juice and plenty of parsley. I'll gently fry them in a little oil till they are browned and crisp and sightly bulging at the sides. Mashed potatoes and a flurry of mixed veg will accompany.
Pud of course, the apple and almond cake I made earlier, no ice cream though because last night I left the blasted tub on top of a pile of old newspapers when I was digging deep for ice cubes!

Yikes it's sticky out there.
Saw a choir of pigeons nutting the ground eating yesterday's soggy leftovers so on with the wellies...

Fancy a bake today so will rustle up some rock cakes and flapjacks, might even stretch to some Irish soda rolls. All good homely fare but...
Come the weekend my new thermometer will be christened by the making of a French cake.
So excited.

I'm wearing a large white man vest, red dress with feather danglies, industrial socks, grey tweed waistcoat, fur gilet and the beginnings of a rough beard.
Feel like a lady with a winkle.

Rapid Rain 1

Rapid rain ranting
and
without mercy
drowns

And
like a tight gloved hand
around
a small undressed throat
chokes

And
with a refreshing murderous glint
hits

Felt good writing my poem.
After all posting about food isn't exactly thrilling or creative.

Cooking tonight.
Breakfast. Big eggs fried till the edges go crisp and brown, lean and large bacon rashers, two juicy porky snorkers, two huge halved tomatoes and fat chips.

Fluffy mountainous Queen of Puddings with lashings of raspberry jam and topped with clouds and clouds and clouds of the sweetest meringue:)

Rough Wind 2

...And when the wind stops bellowing
and his voice can raw no more
a tender grave-like silence lays heavy on earth's floor

The destruct over
our plots still and shocked

A helping of mildness
comes suddenly
allowing our faces to whiten again
and the kick box beating from the small tornado
feels like nothing
nothing at all

Rough Wind

This insane wind
makes no sense to the earthbound
its unhinged dance catapulting
still dead leaves to rooftops all over
and its mean irresponsible blasts
shaking fragile wind chimes
to their core

Does Not Compute

Something called 'Security Tool' has virused its way onto the computer and has resulted in Mr H spending loads of precious time trying to sort it out.
Have been instructed by Mr H on how to use the computer when he is at work:) Or when he's cleaning his teeth as he his right now...'Safe Mode' I think he called it. You 'puter nerds will understand this. Me? Not a clue darlings.

Anyway.... Back track....I froze to the chair when all this kicked off on Friday, this wretched 'Security Tool' thing kept popping up saying all kinds of scary stuff about infections and credit cards. Being a computer moron I clicked nothing at all in case the boogie boys stole all my passwords and other intimate info like my recipes.

So if you don't see much from me you'll know I'm flying around the room in pit bull rage on account of forgetting how to get into Mr H's. 'Safe Mode'.
Oh dear.

Watched X Factor results...
Wagner lives.

Now a quick dip in the cream jar...
Goodnight All.

All Systems Not Go

Gremlins in the machine so computer has been out of order. Unable, till now, to post about my new Thermometer.
Lengthy and smart. A mega cakey wakey is planned, probably next weekend. The nut aisle in Sainzbreeze my destination.

Just watched my recorded X Factor.
Fav performances...

Matt Cardle. An angels voice with Adam's apple.
One Direction. Sugar overload with oscillating boy/man hormones. I desperately need to soothe Niall's spots.
Wagner. Flat and wonderful. It's not all about hitting the money notes. (see Matt)

Made a terrific lunch.
Medium roasted bird followed by coconut cake...The rice pud being a bit on the slow side...Will glug later.

Wore newish tan Sacha boots yesterday. Murderous heels. But knee length leather so that made up for the tilting:)

Watched 'The Hills Have Eyes 11'. Utter rubbish but good rubbish. The announcer beforehand announcing that this film is full of violence, bad language and sexual violence. Violence meaning mouths were stabbed with bayonets:) Bad language meaning a load of mofo's and fu's. Yawn. Sexual violence meaning. Some skinny marine yelling her helmet off whilst some ugly alien mofo does monster intercourse to her. Laugh!

Love it!

But tonight it's back to proppa telly with dangly Dermot...

See ya!

I'm painting the kitchen dresser
:)

Wonder if it'll be done by the time 'The Weakest Link' comes on?
Quite a feat, but not beyond me.

Yesterday's Big Secret

David Coulson, runner-up. Dark eyed, bad haired teary chef who reminded me of John the Baptist. Gentle bear.

OK before I set about today's major works I'll prattle on about yesterday's.
The office/study/Mr H's book and 'puter room was a mess, such a mess in fact that I kept the door closed in case guests thought I was auditioning for the Kim and Aggie show:(

So yesterday I went in at 9, coming out at 5.
I let rip.



The first thing I tackled were the five bookcases, the ceiling high ones being the most problematic but once I'd re-homed some spiders and frightened the living daylights out of a few silver fish I kind of got on a roll.
Next for the treatment were Mr H's piles of letters from service provider people, they soon had me sitting down I can tell you, handful after blasted handful had me wondering if he ever reads any of them. They were dealt with in a calm and serious manner...

By now I was parched so putting Tina Turner on 'pause' I made a nice cuppa, Monty by the way, did his bit by making an appearance at the end!
Standing as I always do to drink tea, I looked hard at what needed my delicate touch, hmmm, the desk and tables:(

Tidy isn't a word in Mr H's vocab, I nearly lost the will to carry on because there was so much dusty stuff to clean and re-house, but after the tea I had a surge of tremendous 'man' strength so got on and rocked. Tina aided and abetted.
It was coming round and that gave me the impetus to carry on regardless of fraying nails... and men trying to sell me cladding.

Tackling cobwebs has always been an issue with me, after all spiders of all colours and makes have spent hours making their nets and here was I coming in like the hand of God...
I couldn't afford though, not this time, to be girly or squeamish so I walked around the tables destroying all:)

Ok. Bookcases cleaned and books stood up, webs down, now walls and floor. An old red rug to cover the cat ripped carpet, a wipe over of the peeling walls and the careful slicing of a bit of loose wallpaper. Yes, very good.

While I was doing the boring stuff my mind focussed on the artistic after work, whereby I arrange in a beautiful manner objects...These would include Mr H's artwork from long ago. Why he hides his talent always baffles me, if I could paint or draw or do things with stencils or cameras, by jolly jingo I'd have it out for all to see. Blasted room would resemble a gallery!.
This was the one area I thought Mr H might bash me over. He didn't:)

So mucky stuff done, bin bags lugged, hoover away and damp cloths in the sink now time to create. The best bit.

All his knick knacks collected over the years and three pieces from his time an art college were now displayed beautifully. I also polished his two tripods and presented them in a new light, they are his, they are part of who is is and he loves them, why keep them under a table? Both now stand guard either side of one of his posters depicting 'Orphee a film by Jean Cocteau'. Too awesome to gather dust.

On top of one of the bookcases is a large drawing done on board in felt tip when he was a student, and in amongst this amazing piece of young man's art is an unbelieveable reproduction of part of Seurat's 'Bathers'.
Why he is working for a living beats me.

I stood back just after five and was satisfied but...

It's strange to think that anyone would want to keep train tickets from 2007.
A tiny silver plastic spaceman
And have hidden in a book, a picture of William Shatner.

But I forgive him.

Today's Big Job is cleaning the garage door and office window (exterior).
Then, as Mr H is working overnight, I'll lock the cracked door and have singular fun.

Time now 12:30...Have just watched Claire win Masterchef, not surprised, she was a revelation. I would have liked David Coulson to wear the big hat but Claire is not only an amazing cook she seems like a great girl too. Well done smiler:)

Me Man Not Woman

Damn fine fellow old Gray!

Decent jalopy

Graham and me after work

Playing in the gardener's Land Rover

Been extra busy today, so much so that the bit between my shoulders aches:) Age? Climbing on tables? Or just a big kid at heart who thinks nothing of doing MAN'S WORK:)
Idiot.
I've done something today which I can't brag about on account of not wanting Mr H to read about it at work. But I can assure you he will be madly happy when he comes in tonight.

Anyway the mighty job is done now and I stand proud. Proud but with lumber issues.

I recorded the final of Masterchef:The Professionals and have yet to watch it so..I'm avoiding anyone who looks like they might know. My money is on David the shaker but Claire is great too, the other one whose name fails me is good aswell.
I've warmed to David on account of his tears, a lovely lovely young fella who gets in a state yet always always delivers.
Claire is a fascinating girl, one who by rights shouldn't be this good at her young age, but a more determined woman cook I've yet to see. Like her a lot.
The other bloke, oh dear, hasn't made much of an impression, and he'll be the one who probably wins!

The programme has me engrossed from start to end especially when the contenders are thrown into the boiling oil of a posh 3 star Michelin restaurant. Scale thirty Red Snappers the judges say and make them look good. Or fry prawns wrapped in shoestring pastry and don't burn them.
Or make a Celeriac jus with just the right amount of squiggle. Love it.

I feel an absolute plank when watching it, makes my pies look like pies from Big Ron's cafe on a rough and dirty road just off the M25.

But cooking is an art and I try to paint my plates well:)

The pics up there were taken yesterday by Mr H, we, that's the three of us had a jolly good time loading up the Landie and trailer with dead vegetation, tons more to go but we're getting there. Bless him!


Cooking tonight:
Sausage with spicy rice and vegetables
followed by coconut and raspberry jam sponge

:)

Ugh my tea's gone cold:(

Glo Glows

I've gone thermometer crazy since finding a recipe for Gateau Moka aux Amandes. The thermometer is needed to make the creme beurre moka (coffee butter cream) I'll need to heat water and sugar together until a temperature of 107 degrees C is reached and then do a load of other culinary stuff before I can present my Gateau... Can't wait to get boiling:)

The pic in the Mary Berry book has made me lunge uncontrollably at the page resulting in the paper becoming wet and eaten. Gross. (Not really)
But oh what a Gateau it looks:)

Thermometers are not so easy to come by I'll have you know. Checked Argos, Waitrose, M&S, Wilkos and Debenhams but no thermo...So went 'old' and...
Ebayed them finding a few, but don't have the patience or strong heart to wait so have found a brand new one in a shop in beautiful far away Maldon so will order it online.

Another recipe I have to try is Chocolatines. These are made with a Genoese sponge and are a pain to make being so fiddly and time consuming but they must be excellent because they are sold in the finest French patisseries. Glo in her bungalow will have a go...

Mokatines are a variation of Chocolatines, being made with coffee and, depending how the Chocolatines turn out, I'll probably have a bash at those too.
What would Queen Victoria say? I mean I'll be dumping her sponge for something French...Disgusting.


Talking of Victoria, her delicate airy cake which I made yesterday, received many Ooohs and OMG's today so I was most pleased and most amused.
Nothing and I mean nothing brings more salivatoring smiles than CAKE.:) Salivatoring IS NOT a true word but as I'm in the word game I can make them up willy nilly.

Today's earlier pics are down to Mr H. His photographic genius at turning the ordinary into the sublime leaves me speechless.
No-one could make a wedge of cake or a middle aged woman look so appealing:)

Now I go to bed to dream of thermometers.
I kid you not;)

More?

Come closer...see my chocolate dust laid lightly on my moist buttercream

Chocolate pudding with chocolate cinnamon sauce. Puds don't come sweeter than this.

You can't say no...

Cup of tea and Chocolate Victoria sponge. Forks and manners at the ready please.

Lamb shanks with root veg and steam.

I love yesterday's photo and here are more photos I love....

Ditzy Twitzy...

First I forgot the marg now I forget the menu...

After chatting to you lot I went kitchenwards to prepare Mr H's tea...
First in the pot were potatoes, )What?) then I cooked leaves of cabbage, (What?) then as the kitchen windows steamed I said "Cabbage?" "Potatoes?"
What was I doing with cabbage and potatoes?
All of a sudden I remembered the bacon and eggs thing, but this wasn't bacon and there certainly weren't any eggs being laid boiled or fried. "What's happening here? " I asked intelligent Monty

"Ok brainless" he said "let's make Rumbledthumps".
(Rumbledthumps is a version of bubble and squeak which has cheddar cheese and chives added or in my case, Edam and six inches of a leftover leek.)
I quickly concocted the mashy green and white meal and left it sitting in a yellow dish by the...lonely eggs.
What were they for again?

I need. in no particular order....
Kiss
Rub
A new Brain
Love emails


;)

Just Waffling On

Made a large chocolate Victoria Sponge today filled with white buttercream and topped with grated chocolate.
It's so fab when cooking goes right and so annoying when it doesn't...
Before the success came the failure...
I'd been half concentrating on cake making and as all cooks know, half concentrating is Death with a capital D, especially when baking cakes......anyway I was in error. The error being I'd forgotten to add to the bowl 8oz of margarine. Only noticing the mistake as I tipped the mix into the tins. "Something not right here" thought brainbox And so after tasting and looking and more tasting and more looking I realized the mixture was marge-less. Blast it I thought so chucked the offending lot down the sink.
And started again...I hate waste.

This is a most unusual occurrence and I put it down to David Cronenberg's exemplary direction of The Dead Zone. Yes I was watching it again. Only this time I couldn't multi-task. Cooking and movies go hand in but not today.
But all is now well, the 8 inch beauty lies chilling in the fridge rather like Johnny Smith in the movie!



Other stuff today:
My mouse is playing up. Cursor getting my blood up.
I love the idea of love. But not the mess.
Oranges are fast becoming the new lemons.


Cooking tonight: For One: Bacon, eggs and chestnut mushrooms, probably with a border of hash browns. All for Mr H. I've had mine.


Joke from mother..
Why didn't the skeleton go to the ball?

Bless.