Good News

In and out. No return for two weeks. Hospital seemed not as bleak as we roared away. Two little words.....Two weeks was all that was needed to put a lead in our pencil and a skip skip in our hearts. Ok where next?

Rochford Market>>>>>>>>>

Huge peaches even huger tomatoes, friendly bag man wishing us a very un-English 'nice day'. Still his prices are very reasonable.

Next stop you know what...Mum buying yet MORE blouses, and moi buying just one retro 1970's boho flower power peace loving smock. Oh man it was love at first feel. I HAD to own it. And so after no deliberation AT ALL handed over £3 to Mary.

Gleadells the Butchers our next hang out.
Wherein I bought stuff in two stages.
First stage...half a pound of liver and three rashers of loose back, paid up bagged it then eyed up the homespun wooden shelves where I clung to a jar of shop made BREWER'S REAL ALE CHUTNEY. £2:48. The man butcher who served me was extremely dreamy, was something about his flop of egg white hair, most charming. Slightly Dickensian. Nose fat, lips full and with hands the size of spades.
And those hands then picked up my final purchase...a Scotch Egg.


While I shopped mum leant against the butcher's window, I glanced occasionally to make sure she hadn't been mugged or fallen out but she sat staring at the square which was packed with an even share of men and women all in their own private worlds buying lighters and veg and rugs and lipstick and dishcloths and gold chains. I felt at home.


Then I left Gleadells and we went to Greggs for mum's usual. A large hot 85p sausage roll served by Lindah, a character. 46 ish I'd say. She's alright is Lindah. 5ft 10. Dyed brunette hair slung back in hair net. Ruddy skin. Blue eyes under thick untweezered brows. Pale red lips with bitten patches. Doesn't look the nervous sort. Shoulders? Does she do weights I thought. A happy hello darlin demeanour. Salt of the earth. Engaging and polite.

Then into the RSPCA shop where Sue was shelving donations. Mum found...another blouse a Jacque Vert so that's why it cost £4. Only 50 + Sue thought it too steep so knocked orf a quid. Sue's my fav now.... but on first sight looks like she'd gladly rip the head of ya if ya took liberties. I paid up and ran out.

And so.....home now to a baking session, my Scotch egg and the Olympics:)

A pal of mine sent me a newspaper cutting.... a recipe for a banana loaf, it looks so yum I'll be making it the weekend. Thanks Terry!




Today has been kindly, and I not only love kindly days but appreciate them also.

Splash zoom splash. yadder yadder. yes isn't it awful. no she hasn't missed any pills. half a pound of mince please.
My day up until midday

Doest Thou Loveth Me?

It's late
what's the date
silly onslaughts breaking out
oozing fears
spewing countryfied ideals

I'm in a state
Of dependency
and clemency
of giving
wanting living

being adroit
jumping idiotic
reaching my climax
beneath the sheets
I'm flowering, open

yet fading with every snap of doubt






Had a tiresome day.
Docs for me for minor yet persistent niggle.
McDonalds for mid afternoon McFlurry. Mum and me sitting ticketless in surgery car park.
Had my friend round for reconciliation cuppa. Now all calm on all fronts. The wonder and magical power of kitchen tangos.

I'm off out now on my late night station run, Mr H obviously beating the Olympic rush.

My To-Do List

....Look after mum. Pale, dizzy and down
....watch the Olympics. Got the bug after seeing Becky Adlington's enthusiasm at getting a bronze
....make a fish pie. Pollack and tuna.
.... pop to docs. For reassurance mostly!
....post office. Oodles of money type stuff. Yawn.
....phone calls. Red Tape jobsworth type to deal with. Grrrrr.
....garden, pottering about therein. Did a bit yesterday, looking smarter!
....watching docu drama about Kenneth Williams (recorded last night). Liked Kenny, a real classical actor subsumed by Carry On Films.
....trying my deelish mocha choco cake which I made yesterday, probably tonight....;)

...just popped an apricot and banana loaf in oven. Will have a slice with some tea a little later on

Now I must fly because, as you can see, I've a ton on my little tea plate
:)

The Queen was cool...

The opening ceremony was fantastic, loved every moment, my fav bits being when the Queen turned around and spoke to 'James Bond' aka Daniel Craig. I expect every one from everywhere in the world expected the tiny silver haired pink frocked lady to be a lookalike. But no! Twas her Maj herself. And as she and James walked towards the helicopter I suddenly fell in love with all things Royal.
Oh my jittery thumbsticks, middle age is definitely setting in. Dear.

Anyway the show was a tremendous hoot so hats and gloves orf to Danny Boyle for making me feel pumped up, girlish and patriotic.

Other Bits I Loved:

Kenny Brannagh as Isambard Kingdom Brunel
The NHS bit... simply stunning with glow in the dark bedding
Sheep

I don't usually dig opening ceremonies but last night's showed the quirkiness, inventiveness and brilliance of team GB....
We really are the best...:)


Today:
What about today.
While Mr H and mother slept (not together) I dawdled to the co-op and chemist then after much exchanging of monies I dawdled back soaking up the sunlight and thinking of a life of my own.
One day, and that day may never come, but one day, I'd like space for clothes, ideas and people.

I'm making Chicken Madras for tea. And to go with it...... warm pittas spread with garlic and chive butter stuffed with chilled cucumber, cherry tomatoes and minty yoghurt. (homegrown mint)
A plum and mango chutney will be nice dropped in generous spoonfuls alongside the succulent chicken meat and tender onions. Rice? Of course, probably plain.
For mum....Fish chips marrowfat peas and a couple of marble sized pickled onions.
Vanilla Ice cream and peaches will make the ideal finisher for all concerned.

Made a corker of an Orange Syrup cake the other day... so moist it's like having actual orange segments in one's mouth.

Gloria's Golden Loaf

Baked last night.
One of my finest.
No massive overhangings or irregularities.
Just a decently fine looking specimen.

Hoping today's bakey efforts turn out as good.
Depending on...Mum's moods, I hope to spend as much time kitchenside as possible.
And so after McMillan nurse leaves I'll set about turning out EITHER an Orange Syrup cake or Chocolate Fudge cake. Both cakes of excellence. Both ideal for long lastingness. Can also be served up as pudding with ice cream or regular cream, either way a portion does the heart good.

Things I've Heard:

James Naughtie speaking in velvetty tones about the Olymics, he's there in East London and for a moment, as he lilted soothingly along, I envisaged the Scot wearing a frilly shirt and smelling of lavender, don't know why, but I did. His normal grated carrot voice had been replaced by a bowl of Channel Island cream.
I was hooked. Good journalism, excellent radio. I WILL watch the Olympics after all.

Boris Johnson. Last night. Standing up high looking down onto a packed Hyde Park enthusing Barack Obama style about how we, the Brits, CAN do it. I wonder what Mr Mitt Romney thought. Crazy Englishman probably.
But we astute followers of politics know for a sort of fact that Bo has his eyes on the big job. And I think it'd be a hoot if we had BJ as PM.
:)

Dame Ann Leslie reliving her time as a junior journo interviewing Marilyn Monroe's psychiatrist. According to Ms Leslie, who I like and admire very much, Marilyn wasn't dumb just a damn fine actress and bleach head who gave directors headaches and Clark Gable a heart attack.


By the way the cat letter - holder in the pic is new...bought yesterday from Joan, who, in between ribbing me and bagging my goodies introduced me to the Reverend's Son. (Hawkwell Baptist Church is where it all happens)
He is wooden and will have, instead of letters rammed between his shoulders, toast.
The Son however just popped in for fancy dress attire.

Now I must fly:)

HERE WE GO!

Head lopped to protect his anonymity

Great Britain v. Senegal
BBC1
Tonight

But before all that...a morning jaunt around charity shops then home to a big thick scone pizza. Probably. Mum might prefer a McD.
I'll see.

Wearing today:
Blue and white with tan accents, notta lotta bling.
Tonight's fare...Sausage and Apple Casserole. Casserole? I must be barking bonkers.


Now I must fly....

Marjoram Pork Chops. A Mary Berry recipe

Tonight's tea/supper was yumsy.
Braised pork chops in a marjoram tomatoey sauce. The meat fell apart just by us looking at it, and to add wonder and excitement I'd added chopped dried apricots and peas to a pan of steaming couscous.
So easy to make so lovely to eat.

Pudding gave me the pip.
Hadn't felt like making one so opted instead for the lazybones dessert of vanilla icey creamy with a shop bought chocolate mini swiss roll stuck in, chimney way. Not a creative masterpiece but still satisfied my sweet tooth. The one on the right at the back...

So another day passeth.
One where I skated around Sainsburys pulling and pushing mother in her wheelchair with a ravine sized trolley attached specially made for people like mum...But we got there, did the day, and now, after dinner and sweet morale boosting interlude with Hairy Suit, I'm just about ready to smack the duvet.


Goodnight All.

Nothing But Pleasure

I love cooking, not for myself, can barely rouse myself to knock up a sandwich, but for my friends, for them there's nothing I'd rather do.
Talking of nothing....
Nothing and I mean nothing gives me more satisfaction and happiness than making sure people I love are well fed and cared for.
Although I am guilty of going overboard especially where Mr Hairy Suit is concerned, he is one of my dearest most influential mates and for him I really push my culinary boat out.
Take last night for example, he joined Mr H and me fine self (and mother) for an evening corned beef quickie (his works tea break coinciding with dinnertime in the bungalow. But I was zonked so all I had to offer was cans...and a little fresh produce.

The corned beef was decent and went well with a bit o' salad and buttery new tatties and for pud I melted some dark chocolate mixed it with lightly whipped double cream and yoghurt then dropped a few crushed digestives on top then crowned it with half a fresh apricot. He, we loved it.
And as we ate I thought how happy I CAN be given the right company and dessert.


Today I'll be cavorting around with a few pork chops, mother not wanting them messed about with preferring insisting hers are roasted plainly... But for Mr H and myself I'll zhoo zhoo them up by braising them in canned tomatoes herbs onions red wine vinegar and brown sugar. They'll go very well with either couscous or simple mash.
For pud? A chocolate sponge probably although I'm leaning towards a lemon puddle.

Great news on the tv cooking front. The Great British Bake Off returns to BBC2 next month.. Yippee!

I'm baking some proper Irish Soda Bread soon. Soon meaning probably at the weekend along with an Orange Syrup cake I absolutely adore. Talking of adoration Mr Hairy Suit gave us a pear pie last night..it blew my mind. The milk pastry had me clapping and yammering like a demented monkey. It was fantastic. The boy can cook...


Now I must fly....

:)

I'll smile.

Hospital appt. went to plan.
In and out.

Market and charity shops... a mere mirage to a warm, fragile mum but she kept going...accepting the offer of a bag of peaches and sausage roll.

It was pointless pushing her around for much longer I could see she wasn't quite with-it so I suggested a trip to a car park...

Within ten minutes or so I was ordering 2 regular hamburgers, 2 regular fries, one coke and one McFlurry (guilty)

And so there we say in the searing heat in McDonalds car park. We liked it.
Doors open, napkins spread upon our laps, good food and strangely serene.

Home to tea......... then flaked out on the settee and bed like a pair of washed out old mackerel.

Started Out OK...........

Mum has been even quieter than usual.
And I've felt dreadful.
And when she threw her ice lolly to the hot grey pavement I felt like ripping my heart out. I mean I hated everyone.
I hated the lumps of Essex flesh who rolled by two and three abreast, over-tanned and under dressed.......... alive and swaggering..................And all in black. Sophisticated? No, just lacking in imagination.


Why is it that when mum clams up, I find my tongue?

Tuesday is Hospital day........ so............... hoping we'll not be kept waiting huddled in packed waiting rooms. After the treatment we'll pop to the market place for fruit then to McDonalds for meat, then to charity shop for pleasures.

I have a feeling I'm going to called soon so I'd better brush my hair.

Ready To Sizzle?

I am.
But first I must have a word.
And that word is WHY.

Why did mother shout for me at 5:30a.m. telling me I'd feel better if I laid next to her.
I took this sweet yet painful suggestion as a sign of affection and disorientation.
I declined the offer preferring instead to lay on the settee listening to collared doves.

As I laid I thought of my day.
Lots of cooking.
Talking.
Trips up the road.
Giving mum a full body wash before nursey arrives.
Deciding on what to wear, has to be simple yet stunning, so my newest boho style tan brown embroidered dress seems perfect.

Hold on bells ringing............

Ok where was I?
Gorgeous dress, to wear today with light brown strappy sandals, jangly bracelets and wooden necklace. Yes...:) just thinking of the ensemble made me feel lighter and more ready to seize the Monday

And so as Mother slept...... I tiptoed out to the conservatory for tea and Radio 4.

I'm well presented now, all soft and shiny, ready willing and more than able to tick-off a to-do list as long as my grass, but after an early start I'm feeling amazingly alright so will, I'm sure, surmount any obstacles thrown before me.
Probably dance too.

:)

Hats On!

If I could be anywhere right now I'd be right here.
In the bungaloid wearing me blue summer frock, making hamburgers, chilling rose wine and looking forward to a simple weekend.
Next week doesn't exist.

Mr H and me good self popped out for a couple of dizzying hours this morning, nowhere grand just up the road and over the hill to the few shops in Spa Road and the little cafe opposite the fish shop.
And as the breeze tickled me whatnots my newly acquired stuff toppled over under the street side table but I felt alright. Hadn't spent much, just £1 on two t shirts and a few pence on a silly beaded boho bag, and £2:50 on a tiny rattan table for the conservatory and a further few bob on a pair of chintzy curtains and big bunch of reeds, flowers and grasses. Total expenditure no more than about a fiver. Or so...Ssssh!

Then as we drove home, a call from Mother asking where we were.
"Be with you in ten" I said in mixed tones....my heart heavy with weariness but leaping up as I beheld a robin on a rake.
Sometimes that's all it takes.

...Gooey over today's Nature Quote>>>>>>>>>

Well Hello Stranger!

Things are looking up:)

After mum's near 24 hour sleepathon she woke asking for Weetabix.

And I am excited too...mostly about tonight...Mostly regarding Great Britain v. Brazil which will be played out at Middlesborough's Riverside Stadium. A nice gentle scuffle free pre-Olympic warm-up for Pearce's lads.
BBC 1 19:30.

But before that I'll potter around the bungalow with Radio 4... my other constant companion.

Just read in the paper that the rain is set to stop, and that by Saturday lunchtime I'll be draped over me garden bench wearing shorts. What a sight, much prefer to bare my shoulders in a sweet Lady Frock.
Shorts I leave to builders...

So.... what with the weather warming up, the must win footie and Mum's Lazarus act, I'm cheery and flush faced.

On my to-do list today:

Make a Loaf.
Big Clean-Up.
Make a fruit pie.
Do something with chicken legs.
SMILE:)

Another trip to Sainsburys and as I chose chops and bread flours and coffee and scented bleach I thought about mum, who when I left was sleepy and pale, now I'm home and she's still sleepy and her paleness, more so. But I'm hoping that she'll hear me as I clunk about setting up the ancient VHS machine so kindly given to me by an old good mate

I'm keen and desperate for mum and me to watch some old videos, possibly even persuading mum to eat something while we watch some Bette Davis flick. Or the life and times of super greedy Leona Helmsley who, as you might recall, was the rich tax dodging American, married to multi-millionaire Harry Helmsley who said "Only the little people pay taxes..." Well, I have the 1990 made for tv movie about her rise and fall. Helmsley is played excellently by Emmy nominated Suzanne Pleshette, the film is marvellous and I would love it if me and mum could watch it and chatter on about her wardrobe of beautiful clothes and how she managed to nab three husbands and a few hotels.
We'll see.....

Mums off her grub right now, wanting only tea and lots of it, but tonight I thought I'd open a can of corned beef and serve it up to her with some mash and salad. Corned Beef, you see, is friendly, a blast from our past when having a can of Frey Bentos was a treat. Any way I'll do my best to tempt her. God knows she needs a treat.
But God can't slice beef, only I can.
So in a tick, after I've unpacked the eco friendly shopping bags, I'll enter the dusty drawing room with the machine under my arm, fingers crossed she'll have something to say.

:)

It's Ok To Love Sly Too...Updated below

I like today's Love Quote...See opposite

Love kicks dignity out. We all know that. We've all done summat stoopid when bound and gagged by love.
There's no place for fine manners when Love has a hold. It trashes what was once held in high regard like.... sanity and self-assuredness.
Love doesn't give a flying fig for etiquette. It makes marshmallow out of our code of conduct book. Shredding it into a million bits as we, you, me and the man down the road grapple with the greatest beast of them all. The Love Monster.

But I like it. And I like it dirty. Love is good when it bleeds, when it splatters and foams, leaving us, the unsuspecting head strong people, paddling in it.
Laugh...
You have to. Otherwise you'd go mad.

And it doesn't matter who you're lovin'. Your husband, wife, girl at work or even parent it feels the same. Like you've had your innermost innards invaded and entangled, and your head and heart possessed.
Crazy.

And I suppose Love is a form of madness.
Because being under its dark spell, in its iron grip and any other superlative laden descriptions you care to come up with DOES makes one a little potty.
I know, for a fact, that loving mum the way I do is driving me right around the bend... so dizzy am I that I even put off going to sainsburys this morning on account of the screechingly awful pain in her side. Docs first thing. Another script for another pill. And then home. And as she sleepily took her meds I drank a pint of Bioticuliusnessbugkilling Tummy Friendly Mango Yogurt. Utter nonsense. But it tasted good. Just like love and life tastes good. And as I spooned it in I felt aroused, death and life, life and death, strange how when at their peak we feel humane yet inhuman.
Gently barbaric.

Now I feel I have to give mum much more attention (she's asleep now) not because she's likely to fall out of bed or anything mundane like that but because I love her.
But I also like myself. And that's important too.
So while I'm ironing blouses and baking bread I'll have one eye and one ear on 'Cop Land' ....and as the movie whirrs inside the dvd player, its sultry throbbing will be a small tonic...

It's ok for me to watch Sly.


Thanks Terry and Nof for replying to yesterday's post about love.

Made a really good loaf, but stupidly haven't eaten anything today other than the pint of yogurt. I like eating when I'm happy. Mum isn't eating so neither am I. I expect though sense and pangs will prevail and I'll crumble my way into the kitchen to make  sandwich. By the way I phoned the McMillan nurse...telling her about mum's pain and lack of colour, "probably entering a transition phase" Claire said. What is it about the word 'transition?' that freaks me out? Going somewhere? Leaving something behind?  This journey is so unavoidable.

Beginning Again

After today's tears, kicked chairs and disappointments I've decided that my strained relationship with my mum is worth saving.

Today saw the pair of us pale and teary, spitting vicious looks and generally losing the affection we once had.
I say affection because although we've always....liked each other and sought each others views our mother/daughter thing never transpired into lovey dovey hugs and sweet sentiments, it was, you could say, a working relationship where both of us knew each others weaknesses and strengths, sometimes to the detriment of the situation. For example: We each know how to wound.
But isn't love all about wounding, about lashing out, you always hurt the one you love and all that...Well it shouldn't be, but is usually is. (what love is about is at the end of the post)
And lashing out either with tongues or dirty looks solves nothing only serves to distance the warring parties even more.
So after today's latest battle I charged into the conservatory kicked the chair into the window then, with the strength of three stout ladies flung everything thereabouts and if that wasn't dangerous enough shouted into the ear of the unfortunate mate who'd chosen the wrong time to call.

Dinner was late.
Dinner was half-cocked. No proper vegetables and no serviettes, that's how bad it had become.
And as I stood wrecked in the middle of the hot kitchen a sense of urgency came over me, so I acted quickly by venturing back into the war zone, not with a white flag but with the dove of peace on my shoulder.
We didn't say much but what was said was enough.
She's scared and so am I.
And so because we have so much in common we're going to be friends.
Again.


What Love Is

Talking Plain
Compassion
A Minor Form Of Insanity
Support support support
Empathy
Liking Someone Even When They're Wrong
Wanting Whats Best For Someone Even Though Its Not Best For You
Hurting
Looking The Other Way
Hatred For A While
Carrying On Regardless
Dancing Together
Picking Each Other Up
Being Ugly Together
Holding On
Letting Go


I'm sure there are a million other examples,if you know any please comment!


Goodnight All
:)

Thoughts.

I don't like old people.
Especially spiteful comfortably off old trouts glaring hatefully at me as I tried to slowly park alongside her bulky motor. What comforted me a little though was the thought of her forgiving me... For draped around her thick neck was a solid gold 6 inch Cross.
Wonder what Jesus thought?


Hospital today with Mother. Helped a sturdy brown haired woman use the new check-in machine, she was having a blood test and this was her first time at using the 'computer'. She smiled with relief when I scanned her letter and up came the confirmation. She was soooo pleased she said I was an 'angel'. Not quite I thought as I remembered last night... Half a shandy and two portions of beef stew. I drank it all in, the beer included, feeling so at peace with the world that even my doc appt didn't blot my sweet landscape.


I really like dancing.
And because |I haven't done much thrusting of late I'm feeling inclined to turn to Magic FM and wriggle whilst boiling some beans.
Talking of veg. On way home from hospital detoured to Rochford Sq. where the weekly Farmer's Market was happenening.
Bought 8 fat peaches and two bags of mange tout. Very reasonably priced. Whilst we wandered, I looked at the sky and wanted to fly, I get quite spiritual when I'm stressed and without a saviour.
Bought 3 tops, two incredibly good, the other a mere purple play thing.

Cooking tonight:
Marjoram Pork Chops
Potato Boulangere
Steamed Mange Tout

For pud.... last night's uneaten Rice Pudding.

Might bake a Peach Pie too!

Feeling zonked on account of another set-to with my old mum. Oh deary me what have I done to incur the unwarranted wrath from the former Miss Lovely Legs.
Started 8 ish when Mr H and me good self were mooching around the kitchen getting breakfasts.
"Ang..." Door flings open
"Oh I should have known"
"Should have known what?" I asked in all innocence
"Leave it just leave it" the sick thing shouted
So I did and so for the rest of the day we've barely said two words to each other.

Hostilities were kind of halted when McMillan nurse turned up with very young male student nurse creeping in her wake.
I like Claire a lot, and Sam the boy was ok too, tall, thin, pale faced with long mousey hair and wide grey eyes, what a caring cutie... Mother however thought differently.
After a brief nurse-to-patient chat I asked Claire if she'd help me with a form. She obliged knowing damn well I was lying.
Claire stood by the sink, I by the cooker and we talked about how bloody awful this all is.

I wanted to talk and talk but knowing how pressed for time she is I poured into her ears only the very stuff which was giving me real anxiety.
She was supremely supportive, encouraging me to care for number 1...

We then chatted merrily about form filling as we approached the front room, God it's hard keeping up appearances.

She left with Sam who, for all his twenty years, had the making of a good nurse, I could tell, if he could sit with mother for twenty minutes and not run out, he'll do just fine...

Sorry ma but I'm all wrung out. I care about your present and future but you must consider my feelings at least at breakfast.

Ok, moan over....
I've made a beef casserole and rice puding for our tea tonight, probably dine roundabout 7, my doc appt shouldn't take more than ten mins. Us women, an intolerable mix of hormones and fears.

I will though, with the aid of a good friend, hopefully, rest easy tonight.
:)

The 'ard stuff

I have to admit to feeling absolutely demolished. Today has been one of those days when I had to cook to keep sane. I needed and wanted to do something that only I could do and which required no assistance from anyone else. So a bakeathon ensued.

Yesterday was truly tiring. I'll not be doing it again. No more five hour trips around Southend with a teary Mother and aching knee joints (mine not hers). Apart from Mother dissolving as waves of sadness overtook her I and Mr H, were crumbling too. He's a good man is Mr H. a patient kindly man but Mother's mad keenness to buy jimjams and blouses and other non-essentials made me fear for his well being. He's not like me, I let it out, he's a preserver, risking the chance of going completely barmy one day, probably when doing the un-done washing up.
Me? I've so much flowing off my plate that I barely notice anything anymore.

So today I dissed breakfast preferring instead to take sustenance from bags of bread flour and mixed dried fruit.
I was gone, away with the culinary fairies, I suppose it's like being on drugs, one sniff n'swallow and all seemed cool on my planet.

And by jolly jingo do I need to be cool....

As Scarlett said "Tomorrow is Another Day", and so it is, and I of course have a heavy diary, but I'll tick the to-do list one by one and then make a nice dinner and then have tea.
Another bake? Oh I should think so:)

.

Goodnight All.

My New Russell Hobbs Loaf Tin

Secondhand Cake Protection

Old Dresser

Newish Dresser

Bordello Lamp with Hanging Jugs

Broom, Brolly, Old Telly and Monty's Dinner

Cake Tins? We Got 'Em

Being cooked today:

A large half white/half wholemeal Loaf

12 Bakewell Maids

A Bread Pudding

A Banana and Orange Curd Loaf

1 Apple Crumble

and
12 mini Yorkshire puddings to go with the roast chick.


:)

Witterings

........Engrossed in Stephen King's 11.22.63.
Could 'see' Al's catburger joint and 'feel' Jake's apprehension as he literally steps back in time...

Can't wait to go again....

........Won't be kitchenside much today, neither myself or mum wanting much. Probably graze like a couple of old cows.

........Talking of the kitchen...As I bleached my way around at early a.m. I wondered about the X Factor and when it'll be mucking out on a TV near you...It's tosh but....When I'm ancient I'll remember summer Saturdays when Mr H and and Monty and me good self clung uproariously to Cowell's every put down and then as we munched on pork balls....soppily chose our favourites.

.......Several people have remarked about the seven pink lanky roses growing by the front door. They, that's the roses, won't live long but, if they have any sort of brain system it must be wonderful knowing that they're making such an impact on the walking beasts.

........There's an ant on the desk, and it's darting in and out of the keyboard and round and around unpaid bills, empty cat treat bags and a pink scarf I've never worn. I'll let it run amok on account of being empathetic, can imagine the distress it might feel being alone in an alien landscape.

..............I feel like doing a bit o' baking the weekend. I'm leaning towards Yeast.

Now I fly
:)

Now a post on what I do best...COOK!

Er......

Found a recipe for a Lemon Custard Cake. Yums. My three most favourite things on earth. So.... will have a bash at making it. Weekend probably.
I found the recipe in one of my 'newest' recipe books, 'The Farmhouse Kitchen' a veritable heaven of olde farmer's wives receipts.... no...... I haven't made an error, receipt was a word used long times ago for what we now call recipe.....And I think it has a solid burnt timbered kind of feel to it:) What do you think?
I like it.

Well in this receipt a lemon custard is concocted, left to cool, and while its cooling one makes the cake. And a queer sounding thing it is too. More of a scone than a proper legitimate cake, you know what I mean one which springs back when prodded with a sticky digit.
Bake the first layer, cool, top with custard then top with rest of cake. I'll need an 8in loose bottomed tin I do have one, but finding it might prove fatal.
My dresser being dangerously overloaded.

Cooking. I love it.

Talking of loving it.
I'm roasting a small pork joint for tonight, will make some apple sauce of course and probably do a carrot or two too.
Pudding will be whatever I think of in the next 30 minutes!


Quickie Love List:

Queen of Puddings. Nursery food for grown ups
Trifle. English only. Italian trifles have no place in my list
Sticky Toffee Pudding. Shop or home made
Jam Roly Poly. Stupid
Custard. Real with eggs.
Lemon Meringue Pie. Squelch tart and sugar high
Chocolate Pudding. Loads
Sultana Pudding. Delicately spiced
Custard. Birds. I'm not afraid of the Purist Police.
An Intruder. Tiramisu. Pub ones especially.
Lemon Puddle. Goo
Bread and Butter Pudding with fruits completely submerged on account of disliking burnt currants
Custard. Tinned. Cold eaten with a shared spoon.
Syrup Sponge and custard
Tinned mandarins and evaporated milk
Ice Cream. Home made. Mary Berry Mango sublime
Bananas with hot chocolate fudge sauce.
Old cake and custard


Now I must fly

Barbara was here for two hours helping me with forms.
She is the manager, and it showed.
A small fair haired 60 something lady carrying a huge case and two mobile phones, I took to her immediately.

So after an initial very English conversation about the weather, old age and caring we got down to the sticky business of applying for mum's attendance allowance.
Phone calls, several, brief chat with mum, a few, heart to heart with me, one big one.
She did her best to not only ease my anxiety about the whole blooming thing but also reassured me that although my life is a bit grotty I'm still an essential human being in my own right (her words not mine). That sealed it.
I made more tea.

She did the pen work all I had to do was recount everything that has happened since November 2011.

Incredibly we kind of sailed through it, there were hitches and hiccups of course, i.e. inability to remember phone calls made, names and dates but other than that Barbara and I did ok.

Bottom line?
Because mum has a terminal illness she's likely to get an attendance allowance pretty damn quickly.
As for me, once mum's been cleared by whoever makes these decisions I should be entitled to a Carer's allowance.
A Blue Badge was also mentioned...

As I say Barbara was cool, did her job professionally and courteously and had a likeable sense of humour. We joked about: Getting on a bit, Menopausal shopping, coffins and cakes.

She left me.......... leaving behind a good impression of the NHS and McMillan services of which she is a top honcho. Mum however thought differently.

The sun had his hat on when Barbara left and so we said our bye byes and parted, I felt ok on the garden path then I went inside...

"They must be giving you thousands of pounds by how long you've been and how you're laughing"

Silence.
I went into the garden and stared at a weed.
It was beautiful.

Sausage and Apple Plait

Hot from the oven....my Sos n' App Plait.

Here's How It's Done:

Take 500g of good pork sausages. High meat content please.
1 large cooking apple. Or sharp eating apple. Chopped small.
1 tblsp. brown chutney/pickle. I used Sainsburys regular Branston style chutney.
The last bits of any other chutney you find lurking in the fridge. I used some Onion relish.
Plenty of black pepper, a little salt.

14oz of either homemade Puff Pastry or shop bought. Whatever make life easier.

Roll out pastry. 14 x 11.

Mix all the filling ingredients and with floured hands, form into a log shape.

Place meat down the centre of pastry and make 6 diagonal cuts through the pastry on either side about 2 ins apart and within 1 in of the sos mix.

Brush edges of pastry with beaten egg then alternately cross the pastry strips over the meat to form a PLAIT. ( You still with me?)

Brush with beaten egg and decorate if you have to, with pastry off-cuts. Bit daft but it's great to play. I cut out discs with the metal top from a bottle of cooking wine:)

Pop onto miserly greased baking sheet then place in hot oven gas 7 for about 45 minutes. Keep an eye on it but don't go overboard, you want the pastry to rise after all. If you keep peeping and checking and checking and peeping the plait will be flat.

I served this up to Mother and Mr Horsehound with a few unpeeled boiled buttered potatoes and can of marrowfat peas.
Sauces, gravies and other drippy stuffs weren't needed.

This thing is delicious hot but equally scrummy served cold with ketchup or mustards. Ideal picnic fare for long summer days sitting on blanketless grass.

Slow baked underneath was a Big Bread Pudding.... the very stuff of warm and welcoming kitchens.

P.S. This afternoon was a busy one for me what with cooking and filling in forms but somehow I managed to scrape in a sneaky twenty minute coffee break in the conservatory where I started on my NEW Stephen King book.
Methinks think I'm going to like it:)

Till the morrow....
Goodnight All.

Feeling powerful today.

Dealing with Doc. Ugh! Prescription change....Other tummy churning alterations too...Best left unsaid....But I had it sorted before I'd polished off my cup of tea. Mum knew nothing preferring instead to drift away on the armchair thinking about HER mum.

Outpouring of grief by mum in Sainsbury's by the baking ingredients. Shoppers were very kind, someone even saying 'God bless you'. Helpless? You betcha. Embarrassed? Not a bit. Loved up? My dear readers, I wanted to climb right under her wheels and blast her first class all the way up to heaven.
So angry and pitifully in love was I.

After we mopped up......Had a lovely girly chat with the ever so warm and wonderful old till girl Gina. Her hair is so short I can see her brain. But a more friendly and vibrant cashier I'll never see. She calls me Ang, I call her Geeeen. We kinda had a short hair thing going on only now mines long and she can't understand why. "Mental upheavals" I told her as she swiped me Nectar card."Makes women do things to their barnets" "No sludge, no mental growth" She concurred whilst offering me tokens for petrol.

This p.m. I'm baking a Sausage Plait:)
And reading Stephen King's newest book...11.22.63.
:)

Our dinner was warm and tender. Succulent meat, soothing veggies and a sweet and gooey rice pud.
And by jolly jingo I needed something warm inside me after the latest lambasting from Mother.
How the woman hurt me.

But I suppose when one's life is ebbing away one loses all sense of decorum and loveliness. She hurt me one hell of a lot.
So I took my leave and spent time on the phone and in another place.

Time heals.
I know that because when I took her tray in a little while ago she tapped my forehead asking if I was alright.
I of course told a porkie.
How could I possibly sit on her bed saying how much she'd burnt my silly soul by saying I was "so greedy".
This in reference to the Attendance Allowance forms which arrived today whilst I was wheeling her around Southend Hospital.
I hadn't asked for them, they were delivered on the advice of the McMillan nurse.
But through mum's eyes I was being greedy for money.
I swore at her and those swear words clumped and thumped around and in my throat that by the time I'd squelched around in the dull and silent garden I thought I'd drop dead by the clematis so overwrought and brittle I'd become.
I didn't die by the way, this is no ghost bashing out these words, it's me Gloria, all sweet flesh and rose red blood.
And at any rate I have people and a life and things to look forward to. Sticks and Stones.....

I'm out and about tomorrow come thunder or heatwave.
Come vitriolic attack or motherly kiss...

Goodnight All.

I've just prepared a bacon casserole.
Unsmoked gammon joint in the large brown pot along with chopped leek, carrot, turnip. A little later on I'll pop in a couple of baking potatoes to sit alongside the casserole, crunchy skin and fluffy mash. Yumsy!
And as the oven will be on for a fair while it makes sense to pop in a milk pudding aswell. Having the oven on for just one thing drives me potty!
I like rice puds made with skimmed and evaporated milk, a nut of butter and dusting of freshly grated nutmeg.
Real comfort food.

Happy Baker

Mother and me good self looked half decent as we banged our way from the farthest end of the rain sodden hospital car park to the Anti-Coag hang out.
Blast it all Madam I thought as some stiff haired, cruise loving, bitter lipped 70 something jostled behind us as we lined up to pay for mum's papers.
I didn't turn a hair, not one, but secretly inside I hoped some awful thing would happen to the impatient old trout.

I smiled a defiant rather saucy red lipped smile at old Mr Huptihambangaringy on the till, him smiling back as he grabbed me tenner. Change? £2 something or other...
The price of chick's mags is outrageous but ma needs her fix of fashion, latest cushion styles and home made remedies for older folk.

We diddo the blood bizzo and left the car park with a wise old me giving way and smiling at every driver under 70.

Driving. Excellent. To Co-Op for stewing beef. Now home to make a large scone pizza for mum and me to waffle down whilst watching some old murder flick.

Awoke too early........... thinking about the dream I'd just left behind.
In it all was pink; big faced flowers, bombom cheeks, my dress with its never ever train and finally an uncomfortably nearby sky. The sky although on top of me was pretty, pearlescent, acid pink, and had tassles of blue sparkling beads hanging from a lone steel grey cloud.

I had no idea what it meant but it wouldn't leave my head for at least twenty minutes.

And so today:
Mr Hairy Suit the newest convert to the blogging experience (I've added him to my fav sites list) is popping in for tea when he'll no doubt recount all that happened on his night shift.
I'll just do a brew.


Looked in on mum an hour ago and watched her as she slept, and as her wonky mouth grappled some invisible intruder I wondered what she was dreaming, or was she just concentrating on breathing in, out.

Must dash now my hair needs doing...................

Mr Horsehound, mum and me good self will probably hang out in Rochford square this afternoon buying old stuff and lamb's hearts.

BEEF LARDED, CAKE BAKING..WE'RE READY!

There are absolutely no pictures of Andy on the web-so this is the best I could do.

For the biggest sporting event of the year......

My morning has been planned around the 13:00 hrs start of what promises to be the highlight of the BBC's Wimbledon coverage. The Final.
As the beef roasts and the cake rests fattened with strawberries, mum and me good self will be chattering non-stop about...Muzza, Fedders, the Great British Nit Wits standing in line in trepidation and precipitation waiting in anticipation for what could be, has to be, the greatest day in Wimbledon's history. Mr H. prob be tea boy.
Blimey Oh Riley matey 'tis a long long time since Fred held the Plate but now, now there's a chance a SLIM chance mind you, that the beanpoley slightly adolescently mega rich Scot will finally leave his mark. 74 years since Fred..long times to wait.

I know I've cursed Andy but it wasn't meant literally, I didn't do anything really evil to make him lose in all his Wimbledon semi-finals but this time, due to maturity and a desperate need for front room excitement/action I'm gagging for a Scottish win.

All my domestic cuties, I mean duties, are in strict must-do order. Firstly veggies, then yorkies then bake the celebratory cake... A Swiss Roll.

Come On Andy!

McHorsehound

Lean steak mince... pattied, fried
then bunned, sesame seeded shop buns are fine, although plain baps, I feel, are best, especially if home grown
then lashings of red onion marmalade, grated cheddar, sliced full flavoured tomato and chopped pickled cucumber bought from Independent butcher in Rochford (where I buy the lamb's hearts)
Top bun it, and enjoy.

How to eat a McHorsehound...
Discard clothing leaving just enough for modesty. i.e. jewellery
sit with legs resting on fair chair
look around at mess, dismissing it
flatten/squeeze Horseburger till meat bursts forth
look across at guest/spouse/
open indecently wide if Male/ delicately ladylike if wearing scent and lipstick
Breathe in aroma of charred beef and BITE!

.................The rain fell as Mum, Mr H and I sat in a yellow walled cafe set in a side street just orf the High Street in Southend.
What were leather settees doing in an egg and chip establishment? I pondered as the bitter faced lady took my order (two teas, one coke) ...
Progress Ang,I thought, progress. Long departed are the days of rickety two bob chairs and melamine table tops, this is a 2012 nosh gaff. Complete with ash effect dining suites.

As she poured steaming tea from tin teapots I surveyed the blackboard above her head...
The usual cafe fare.
Bangers, breakfasts, poys and jam roly poly. I thanked the food gods for that at least!

It started to drip heavily as I made my way to our table...But rain or not I had decided long ago over me toast that today HAD to be fine. Well as fine as any anniversary of any death could possibly be.
My beloved pop was just about alive this time last year then, just after ten in the evening took his leave, leaving us forever in turmoil.
I knew mum was struggling because she left her tea, looked grey, and called everyone bastards.


But Mr H pushed mum along the 'bastard roads' all along down to the front where we all got in people's way whilst looking at secondhand bags and books:)

Mum bought tons. Books mostly. I bought a 1960's blue quilted SNAP SHUT handbag. It was love at first blah blah, so struck by it was I that I knelt down onto the floor and decamped my stuff from current handbag to new one.
And it's actions like that keep one young.

I did so love her today.
Her hair's a bloody mess, her complexion bitty and grey and a grief so obvious it's impossible for Mr H or meself to know what to say.
So we kept our tongue between our lips and shopped on.

:)

Shopping done we came home, home to the Ladies Final. Hoping for Radwenska win. But I fear Ms Muscle AKA Ms Williams will hold the trophy above her huge hair with one teency finger:(

Then I'm doing dinner.
Homemade Hamburgers with cheese onion and dill pickles, fat chips, coleslaw. Pudding? Unknown. Fancying a choccie puddle...

So m'dears today has been a bowlful of very mixed emotions.
Overwhelming sadness at grey skies. Daddy dying. Mummy dying slowly and feeling powerless and without any say in the matter.
Great buys:) Including bag, purse, BHS nightie, 3 sausage rolls, beloved paperbacks, big bracelet, big battery and Irish steak mince.



Onwards in the drizzle..Don't dawdle....'Tis the only way:)

..........I forgot to detail all of today's Major buys...

3 Dresses, all divine of course, two just too perfect...floaty froth....1. full length azure blue and 2....
knee length in a madness of pink...
The third posh totty black and tight... not for daytime.
£4 the lot

1 stone coloured just above the knee trenchcoat... black piping, silver buttons....just dying for another downpour.......£2:25

Another fab bag.
Mock Ostrich.
£1

Love All Cure All

Mr H and and moi took mother to Sainsburys where she loaded her basket with books drink and oaty fancies. I, on the other hand buying only necessities...Ice cream, jam, bleach

Then a slow leisurely drive back to the charity chop in Headingham Place where a delighted Joan commented on my hair.
"It's flicking up now" She gigged
"It's flicking gorgeous" I goofed
From then on we bantered mercilessly.
Her following me from rail to rail offering fashion advice for the smaller lady (that being me) and finally throwing up her hands in uproarinessness when I flung three frocks to the ground saying
"These Mine!"
I adore Joan she's the kind of wacko mum I'd like to have had if....I hadn't filled the womb of my very own little Lilly.
Who by the way has been very honest and open with me today. Our chat over tea and pies about an hour ago refreshed us, making mincemeat out of the yesterday's devillment. We both knew at the end of play last night that something had to be done, the air cleared and a new beginning sought. Today we began again...

Anyway back to today and the charity shop larks....I smashed my purse down on the counter, paid up, kissy kissy with Joan then huddled a very shaky wheelchairless mum out into the sunshine and into the car.

Home to tennis and pie and mash.

I'll be kitchen side very soon...making some kind of cake and a casserole of Chicken Provencale.

Good Things To Look Forward To:

Maudlin Murray v. Barmy Tsonga (tomorrow)
Bakewell Tarts
Friday in general


:)

Another rant

...........Threw myself on my bed after being driven to tears by unjustifiable remarks from mum.

She had been well and truly annoyed and frustrated by the questions from the McMillan nurse. The nurse was simply doing her job. "It wouldn't be wise to go home" and "I feel it'd be beneficial if you attended a day centre where you could meet other people and have good food..." and other lengthy well meaning propositions. Mum shut down. And so did I bit. All this caring stuff is wonderful if you want it, mum doesn't, what mum wants is to live independently in her one bedroomed flat on the sixth floor. That will never happen. And I told her so but not so coldly. Shouldn't have bothered because my gentleness and wisdom was trod upon.
If she hadn't wanted the nurse to visit she should have demanded that I cancel the appointment and by so doing avoid the ensuing shouting match.

The nurse left after a long visit then mum asked for food, beans and bread so I quickly went into the kitchen to prepare it, but because I was texting, she went crazy and stormed out. I felt as if I'd done something wrong. This injustice was more than I could take and left me
wishing more than ever that I could go to a B&B by the seaside......
And not have to do this daily fight.

I love her, wanting only what's best for her, but her heartbreaking yet silly insistence on going back to her flat in London is demolishing our relationship. Her edginess and grief resulting in spitefulness which skins me.
This is my house I told her and I'm doing all in my power to make your life easier, so don't you dare tell me what I can and can't do. I'm 56years old and without a life of my own so I'm not watching the tennis with you. Bloody get on with it.

Five minutes later she was at my bedroom door telling me I was being silly and that Murray had just come on court...

She's asleep on the chair now and I am here in my office exhausted and hungry and my dad's ashes are on the back doorstep and that's that.

I love her but I wish she'd listen to me.
I've given her my home.

Hair blow dried, now waiting for McMillan nurse then...

Buying other peoples unwanted stuff. Mainly bags and books I hope then...

Centre Court from 1pm.

Swiss Chocolate v. Russian Praniki

then

Murray Mint v. Ferrero Rocher

Sweet;)

Do Not Read If You're Feeling Cheesed Orf...

And so the Scot stomps on.
His next match is against Ferrer, should be worth rushing home to tomorrow. Out and about again with mother. We won't give a hoot about the weather or being swallowed by a giant octopus or being kidnapped by gangs on the look out for old women who look capable of doing light housekeeping duties either abroad or in Bradford.


Hospital appointment today for Mum.
As we waited in Sub room 1 I clocked the faces of people roundabouts. Not one of them beautiful. All were wedge- like, worn, with faces like grey railway tracks. The men wore beige casual trousers or black polyester smarts, neither matching their shirts or age. I hated them. And I hate hating but as women of all ages bounded heavily from room to room (bloods, weight etc) I wondered why, with such atrocious feet they wore open toed-sandals...did nothing for their femininity..... Just reminded me of herds of filthy cattle.
I'm not in the best mood as you can tell.
Blame mum for this.
She's had a poor couple of days and I can't sit down.

Anyway the appt. went according to plan, no horrid surprises so out we went into the drizzle and home to tea and a little company.
My mate Reg was there so I had someone else to care about, someone with whom I can share thoughts and recipes.
Reg is alright.

Murray and Cilic larked about, Murray eventually dismissing giant Cilic and now bitches into the next round with Ferrer, who I've already mentioned.
Repeating myself?
I'm tiredy wiredy I suppose.
Very early start............ with mum crying into her weetabix because she feels 'low' and me looking for belts so her trousers stay up. Blow this.
But we did what we had to do and felt better for it. Feeling better is all matters. Mum is now on antibiotics for a 'chest infection'. Damn it all, it's not a legitimate chest infection, the kind you or I might pick up on the bus it's another symptom of all her growing all multiplying cancer pals. Coughing constantly being the main tell tale.
Crazed hyper active schizophrenic cancer cells running all over her they are. Popping up here there and every where...
Her GP knew it and so did I.
Blah blah my dear hope the weather gets better. Here take these.

I am so frustrated I feel like running away to the kitchen where mum now sits, her slight body angled towards the the dusty old tv where Wonderful Wimbledon plays on.
"It's not the same this year Ang"
she said earlier her eyes somewhere else other than on me
I could do nothing but agree...


I'm opening a can of corned beef for us tea and making miniature plum crumbles for afters.
:)

Ooops!
Italy smashed to bits by super Spain.
Good game though.
Goal after goal from probably the best Spain team ever.
Italy were whacked.
As mum and me watched I wished of course that England had been on the field but I fear we're destined to be quarter-finalists for ever more.
Having said that though Team England and all that goes with them gave me a couple of weeks of loveable acceptable madness.

Talking of which......Second out on Court Numero Uno...Murray. Today his opponent is..Cilic, the man player involved in the second longest ever match at Wimbledon....Murray said he was 'nervous' meeting Bhagdatis, well heaven knows how he'll feel when he shakes his weeny racket at Mighty Cilic.
Therefore............. this morning I'll be dashing around the bungalow killing germs then dashing to docs with mum then speeding up the hill to post office.
This is the effect good sport has on me.

Now I must.............Dash



Good luck Andy!

Flowers and a Chicken

Chicken golden and skin crisping, fat sizzling, all's well in the pan.

Chocolate Swiss Roll cooling and as soon as it's cooled will be made plumper with orange curd and whipped cream. A dusting of icing sugar/cocoa mix will gild the lily.

Oaty apple crumble perched on cold gas ring waiting to be put into oven.

.......Popped to Four Acres buying 2 Marguerittes and 3 Nemesia. Young bridal white and young sunshine yellow sitting so well together under old Japanese Maple.

10 Lavender plants stiffening youthfully. Will wait till after puberty to plant into final positions.

Chaos in the front garden as miniature white roses get mugged by unknown yellow weeds. Can't bring myself to pull them from the ground because they are so pretty. Roses aren't the only flora that deserve adoration.

I've lost weight.
Not much, just enough so my body fits into a clingy size 10 mint green sparkly dress with shoestring straps.

Mum is perky.

Final of Euro 2012 tonight. The tournament came and is now going. Us, us as usual, limping through the National Anthem and then limping out of the tournament.
Not fussed either way regarding tonight's outcome......... like Italian leather goods, art and would dearly love to visit Rome.
Spain, a mixture of paella, chips, loud Brits and cruel bull fights:(
Prefer the Italians to win....

So mum and I will be watching the match with interest and cake:)
Mr H going walkabout.


(Last night's Murray/Bhagdatis match was fab, the lights were on and the roof worked, Murray going on to clinch it just after 11 pm.
I love big exciting occasions and last night on centre court was all that!
Now, this afternoon, I'm all warm..... waiting............ for the second week to commence.