I wish Rob, Digger, Linda, Marilyn, John,Terry, Ken, Jeff, Mr and Mrs Nof, Susan and all people all around the world who read my blog ....
The best health, the best companions and the very best of luck.
I won't be singing in the New Year, much to full up on chocolate nuts and middle age to warble. I'll leave the merry making to the young inebriated.
Before I sign off another year here's my wish list for 2014:
For my old friend Ken to get back to good health.
For Mr Horsehound to find happiness outside the crumbling walls of his bungalow. God knows he deserves it.
I wish Mother would realize that acceptance is the key to sanity. Both hers and mine.
For Mr Hairy Suit to continue his love for life, scones and classic cars. And that his cough gets better. And that he continues to laugh at my peccadillos
The England Football team to do well in the World Cup and in so doing upset the pompous Gary Lineker.
Goodnight All
:)
Tuesday, 31 December 2013
Sunday, 29 December 2013
After a morning and afternoon of televisual homicides I made a nice Farmhouse loaf.
And, as I type, mother is watching Joan Crawford in a mid 1950's film called 'Autumn Leaves' where Crawford's character Millicent Wetherby (lonely middle aged woman) falls for Cliff Robertson's character, Burt Hansen ,a brooding handsome youngman with severe emotional problems
I know all this because I've seen the blasted film ten times, anyway Milly falls in love of course only to realize that Burt's a deranged maniac.
Blah blah blah, and her being decent and in love does the only thing possible...gets him sectioned.
I won't blow the ending for you incase you watch it one day. I'm plagued by it on account of having the soppy film on VHS and a mother who just lurves Joanie.
Oh God.
I have a lovely piece of gammon braising in veg stock, it's sitting on a wet bed of swede, celery, leek and apple highly seasoned with fresh ground black pepper and six grains of sea salt. I felt spiritual when I did the veg and sliced away the fat from the bacon. I don't know what happened suffice to say my transportation to another plane helped. And I need all the help I can get.
For pudding an Apricot trifle. Trifle sponges split and sandwiched with passion fruit curd (shop bought). Covered generously with canned apricots, dampened with the juice, then lost in an ocean of sweet custard then carefully crowned with Nestles cream. At the last minute I'll decorate with toasted almonds.
Mother has already denounced the trifle as a pudding too far for a Diabetic and won't eat any of it...
I watched Midsomer Murders. A man in the village obsessed by a Russian ballerina murders other men on account of these men also loving the dancer. She was thin and bendy but rather lacking in warmth I thought.
I will be watching another over costumed over perfect mystery this tea time, soon infact...Poirot this time, It's the one where someone gets killed at a bridge party.
I have NOT informed mother of the other Poirot on ITV tonight... I don't think Mr Horsehound and I could stand it. We're not being cruel we're just fighting for our lives.
I decanted a tin of Drinking Chocolate into a pretty glass jar... I wonder if I could tempt Mother with a cup..............................
And, as I type, mother is watching Joan Crawford in a mid 1950's film called 'Autumn Leaves' where Crawford's character Millicent Wetherby (lonely middle aged woman) falls for Cliff Robertson's character, Burt Hansen ,a brooding handsome youngman with severe emotional problems
I know all this because I've seen the blasted film ten times, anyway Milly falls in love of course only to realize that Burt's a deranged maniac.
Blah blah blah, and her being decent and in love does the only thing possible...gets him sectioned.
I won't blow the ending for you incase you watch it one day. I'm plagued by it on account of having the soppy film on VHS and a mother who just lurves Joanie.
Oh God.
For pudding an Apricot trifle. Trifle sponges split and sandwiched with passion fruit curd (shop bought). Covered generously with canned apricots, dampened with the juice, then lost in an ocean of sweet custard then carefully crowned with Nestles cream. At the last minute I'll decorate with toasted almonds.
Mother has already denounced the trifle as a pudding too far for a Diabetic and won't eat any of it...
I watched Midsomer Murders. A man in the village obsessed by a Russian ballerina murders other men on account of these men also loving the dancer. She was thin and bendy but rather lacking in warmth I thought.
I will be watching another over costumed over perfect mystery this tea time, soon infact...Poirot this time, It's the one where someone gets killed at a bridge party.
I have NOT informed mother of the other Poirot on ITV tonight... I don't think Mr Horsehound and I could stand it. We're not being cruel we're just fighting for our lives.
I decanted a tin of Drinking Chocolate into a pretty glass jar... I wonder if I could tempt Mother with a cup..............................
Thursday, 26 December 2013
Tuesday, 24 December 2013
Ginger Wine and Gingerbread and Doilies
A large rich Gingerbread is cooling on the dresser and when it's cool it'll be decorated with a lemon and ginger icing.
The icing will include stem ginger syrup and the juice of a whole lemon alongside a little ordinary warmed tap water.
Gorgeous for cutting into generous squares and serving on a tea plate with a little paper doiley.
Firming up on a baking sheet by the kitchen telly is my first attempt at a Nut and Cherry Brittle.
A mixture of hazelnuts, almonds, walnuts, peanuts and pieces of chopped glace cherry were added to 300g of caramelized sugar.
The mess looked like a ransacked chest of rough gemstones.
When I get a mo I'll make cones out of doilies, slice the brittle into shards filling the cones to full capacity. Probably indulge a little further by encasing the coned sweets in gold wrapping paper (£1 for a huge roll).
Then I'll give them away.
As I write an eggcupful of Ginger Wine is wetting the bottom of my sherry glass.
I have, you see, been drinking for quite a while, (a week off and on) and every Christmas whether I'm happy or no I let myself fall headlong into a bottle of Stones.
The amber juice, decanted, stands on the kitchen table and every evening for a week I've tippled. Not to excess, I don't do excess. But just enough to settle my Christmas roast beef nerves and heartache over mummy.
Talking of mummy...My old bean has barely eaten today, and her eyes puffed and red through lack of sleep, continue to stare emotionless unmoving at a never ending round of tv murders courtesy of ITV 3 and 4.
Damn you don't you know it's a religious holiday but thank you also for giving mother something to focus on.
Cheers.
Now I must drain the glass and head into the kitchen where a rather lacklustre Shepherd's Pie is warming through.
Tomorrow will be better...
The icing will include stem ginger syrup and the juice of a whole lemon alongside a little ordinary warmed tap water.
Gorgeous for cutting into generous squares and serving on a tea plate with a little paper doiley.
Firming up on a baking sheet by the kitchen telly is my first attempt at a Nut and Cherry Brittle.
A mixture of hazelnuts, almonds, walnuts, peanuts and pieces of chopped glace cherry were added to 300g of caramelized sugar.
The mess looked like a ransacked chest of rough gemstones.
When I get a mo I'll make cones out of doilies, slice the brittle into shards filling the cones to full capacity. Probably indulge a little further by encasing the coned sweets in gold wrapping paper (£1 for a huge roll).
Then I'll give them away.
As I write an eggcupful of Ginger Wine is wetting the bottom of my sherry glass.
I have, you see, been drinking for quite a while, (a week off and on) and every Christmas whether I'm happy or no I let myself fall headlong into a bottle of Stones.
The amber juice, decanted, stands on the kitchen table and every evening for a week I've tippled. Not to excess, I don't do excess. But just enough to settle my Christmas roast beef nerves and heartache over mummy.
Talking of mummy...My old bean has barely eaten today, and her eyes puffed and red through lack of sleep, continue to stare emotionless unmoving at a never ending round of tv murders courtesy of ITV 3 and 4.
Damn you don't you know it's a religious holiday but thank you also for giving mother something to focus on.
Cheers.
Now I must drain the glass and head into the kitchen where a rather lacklustre Shepherd's Pie is warming through.
Tomorrow will be better...
Monday, 23 December 2013
Baking and Loving
I wanted to make everyone happy so I got up early and baked and shopped. It had to be an early start because mum had an eye appointment in the afternoon. Or so I thought.
Firstly a sweet Mincemeat and Date Cake for Hairy's ma and pa then a few cuppas with Hairy himself. He'd popped in to talk Christmas so we chatted merrily before it was time to take mum to the hospital.
She looked awful.........pain has a way of contorting the face, and as I stood at the end of the bed I knew she wasn't going anywhere.
"What'll I do Ang?
She was telling me in a convoluted way that she didn't feel well enough to have a Mr. Eye Man poking needles in her eyes but she wanted me to make the decision for her.
So I did.
" We're not going to the eye clinic we're going to the surgery".
With that she slumped on the bed, relieved I think, and quickly fell asleep.
Her arms and back have been wickedly painful lately and it's getting her down so much so that she again told me she wished she were dead.
She saw the Doc.
He's reluctant to give her opiates so suggested she increases her regular painkillers. A blood test was arranged too.
We came out drained.
Mum looked pale like a lifeless silvery fish.
I, like a worn out person.
I fell into the car wishing it could be Christmas every day so I could shower mum with lots of beautiful things.
I recently bought her a wedding ring.
There's still lots of baking to be done, two Gingerbreads at least.
Seems like a good and perfect time to wish everyone who reads my blog ... Rob, The Nofs, Guernsey Girl, The Major, Ken, Parky, Jerry and Digger a Merry Christmas.
Be Happy!
Firstly a sweet Mincemeat and Date Cake for Hairy's ma and pa then a few cuppas with Hairy himself. He'd popped in to talk Christmas so we chatted merrily before it was time to take mum to the hospital.
She looked awful.........pain has a way of contorting the face, and as I stood at the end of the bed I knew she wasn't going anywhere.
"What'll I do Ang?
She was telling me in a convoluted way that she didn't feel well enough to have a Mr. Eye Man poking needles in her eyes but she wanted me to make the decision for her.
So I did.
" We're not going to the eye clinic we're going to the surgery".
With that she slumped on the bed, relieved I think, and quickly fell asleep.
Her arms and back have been wickedly painful lately and it's getting her down so much so that she again told me she wished she were dead.
She saw the Doc.
He's reluctant to give her opiates so suggested she increases her regular painkillers. A blood test was arranged too.
We came out drained.
Mum looked pale like a lifeless silvery fish.
I, like a worn out person.
I fell into the car wishing it could be Christmas every day so I could shower mum with lots of beautiful things.
I recently bought her a wedding ring.
There's still lots of baking to be done, two Gingerbreads at least.
Seems like a good and perfect time to wish everyone who reads my blog ... Rob, The Nofs, Guernsey Girl, The Major, Ken, Parky, Jerry and Digger a Merry Christmas.
Be Happy!
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
Lamb or Lentils?
Lentils.
But not always.
Since there's been three of us in the bungalow my menu planning has altered. A bit. Before mother came to stay Mr Horsehound and myself indulged in a lotta lentils but since the Great Invasion the puys have vanished.
And I don't like it.
Lamb and pork chops are excellent tea time fare but they kinda dry up my creative juices. As do other meat filled dishes.
There's only so much one can do with half a pound of mince.
So last night, as I lay in my bed, ear plugs in and notebook on my knees I promised myself, God did I promise myself that from tomorrow I'm demoting meat.
Mum of course will continue to struggle with her chops but for Mr H and myself Lens culinaris returns.
(Not every day, we will continue the tradition of Pork Chop Wednesday)
But the thought of producing gorgeous meat free meals has put a smile on my chops!
Red Spit Lentils Puy Green
But not always.
Since there's been three of us in the bungalow my menu planning has altered. A bit. Before mother came to stay Mr Horsehound and myself indulged in a lotta lentils but since the Great Invasion the puys have vanished.
And I don't like it.
Lamb and pork chops are excellent tea time fare but they kinda dry up my creative juices. As do other meat filled dishes.
There's only so much one can do with half a pound of mince.
So last night, as I lay in my bed, ear plugs in and notebook on my knees I promised myself, God did I promise myself that from tomorrow I'm demoting meat.
Mum of course will continue to struggle with her chops but for Mr H and myself Lens culinaris returns.
(Not every day, we will continue the tradition of Pork Chop Wednesday)
But the thought of producing gorgeous meat free meals has put a smile on my chops!
Friday, 13 December 2013
...What is this life if full of care...Gloria deletes a half-decent blog post.
Drat. It was a good and funny one too.
I'd been busy yesterday with shopping, mum and cooking and tried defiantly stupidly to fit in one more thing... An info packed expose of my morning on the High Street but
the post I wrote in the afternoon got squished accidentally by too busy fingers and tired eyes. I wasn't paying attention.
In weirder moments I imagine my head filled to capacity like an overgrown garden, a fat boy. And then I have the cheek, the audacity, to shove in one more thing. And kaboom! I make mistake.
I need to prioritize.
Drat. It was a good and funny one too.
I'd been busy yesterday with shopping, mum and cooking and tried defiantly stupidly to fit in one more thing... An info packed expose of my morning on the High Street but
the post I wrote in the afternoon got squished accidentally by too busy fingers and tired eyes. I wasn't paying attention.
In weirder moments I imagine my head filled to capacity like an overgrown garden, a fat boy. And then I have the cheek, the audacity, to shove in one more thing. And kaboom! I make mistake.
I need to prioritize.
Tuesday, 3 December 2013
Oh just another day.....
..I made a vicar laugh by curtsying to him. I made him fall about by calling him your highness.
...Charity shop Joan, recently back from her hip op told the gigantically tall man of the cloth that I drove her mad. The sky pilot said she was lucky. LOL!
Meanwhile, over by the hardbacks, sitting more bent than ever, was MOTHER.
Arthritic Joan's efforts to engage mum in a little old dear's tittle tattle made for excruciating viewing. Mum loathes talking to people, but is not rude so she responded to kindly Joan's friendly words in monosyllabicicallysym. ( I love making up new words)
Meanwhile I got on with cruising around the re-vamped shop.
The sweetest best item I bought was a Flower Press..........
After my many gifts of gloriously perfumed bouquets have passed their heyday I pick out one or two flowers and shut them up in between the pages of a book of verse........ so that one day when I'm croakingly old I 'll be able to relive life through the memories of a saved rose.
This afternoon I baked a Rice Cake and a batch of Date Bars.
...Charity shop Joan, recently back from her hip op told the gigantically tall man of the cloth that I drove her mad. The sky pilot said she was lucky. LOL!
Meanwhile, over by the hardbacks, sitting more bent than ever, was MOTHER.
Arthritic Joan's efforts to engage mum in a little old dear's tittle tattle made for excruciating viewing. Mum loathes talking to people, but is not rude so she responded to kindly Joan's friendly words in monosyllabicicallysym. ( I love making up new words)
Meanwhile I got on with cruising around the re-vamped shop.
The sweetest best item I bought was a Flower Press..........
After my many gifts of gloriously perfumed bouquets have passed their heyday I pick out one or two flowers and shut them up in between the pages of a book of verse........ so that one day when I'm croakingly old I 'll be able to relive life through the memories of a saved rose.
This afternoon I baked a Rice Cake and a batch of Date Bars.
Thursday, 28 November 2013
This morning a jar of whole stem ginger and bag of poppy seeds satisfied my baking lust.
This morning Mother told me I wasn't happy.
This afternoon I'm making a Cottage Pie then watching Alan Ladd in Shane.
And that Mother darling makes me happy.
I know what mum means though, I do have days when I dislike living and mum being ever present and everywhere sees it, she sees all, in that respect she is very much like God.
A list of goodies to be baked between now and Christmas Eve...
Moist Gingerbread with Stem Ginger and Lemon Icing.
Dark and sweet. Yum
Hot Cross Buns without the crosses.
Ideal toasted and buttered and enjoyed with tea on a winters afternoon.
Lemon and Poppy Seed Traybake.
Squares of it can be warmed in the microwave for a minute then served with cream. In fact I often serve cake this way. Another winner is slices of Madeira with pears and chocolate sauce.
Rich Fruit Cake with marzipan and white icing. A lazy girl's quickie xmas cake. A jar of Luxury Mincemeat is added to a bowl of flour, butter, glace cherries, nuts and eggs. Baked. Then marzipanned and iced. Quick, effortless but tastes like its taken three months to mature.Alcohol optional.
Coffee and Walnut Sponge.
A classic. I use camp coffee and chicory essence to flavour the sweet buttery icing. Served in wedges on its own, any more sugar and you'd probably feel ill.
Cherry Pie.
Crisp buttery pastry shell filled with a jar of cherries warmed and thickened with cornflour and flavoured with almond essence. Gorgeous served hot with ice cream or whipped cream. Or on its own on a small plate dusted with icing sugar. Very festive especially if doileys are used.
When I'm not cooking I'm reading...
This book is perfect for childless dreamers like me.
This morning Mother told me I wasn't happy.
This afternoon I'm making a Cottage Pie then watching Alan Ladd in Shane.
And that Mother darling makes me happy.
I know what mum means though, I do have days when I dislike living and mum being ever present and everywhere sees it, she sees all, in that respect she is very much like God.
A list of goodies to be baked between now and Christmas Eve...
Moist Gingerbread with Stem Ginger and Lemon Icing.
Dark and sweet. Yum
Hot Cross Buns without the crosses.
Ideal toasted and buttered and enjoyed with tea on a winters afternoon.
Lemon and Poppy Seed Traybake.
Squares of it can be warmed in the microwave for a minute then served with cream. In fact I often serve cake this way. Another winner is slices of Madeira with pears and chocolate sauce.
Rich Fruit Cake with marzipan and white icing. A lazy girl's quickie xmas cake. A jar of Luxury Mincemeat is added to a bowl of flour, butter, glace cherries, nuts and eggs. Baked. Then marzipanned and iced. Quick, effortless but tastes like its taken three months to mature.Alcohol optional.
Coffee and Walnut Sponge.
A classic. I use camp coffee and chicory essence to flavour the sweet buttery icing. Served in wedges on its own, any more sugar and you'd probably feel ill.
Cherry Pie.
Crisp buttery pastry shell filled with a jar of cherries warmed and thickened with cornflour and flavoured with almond essence. Gorgeous served hot with ice cream or whipped cream. Or on its own on a small plate dusted with icing sugar. Very festive especially if doileys are used.
When I'm not cooking I'm reading...
This book is perfect for childless dreamers like me.
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
An orange and yellow skip sits on the driveway.
Already laying broken inside the echoing the echoing metal tomb, torn apart furniture
Room for a human?
As you can tell.... this morning's outing with a weak and sombre mother left me drained. I'd like to write positively but my mind has shut down and my body runs on auto.
Just now... a fleeting fly - by over an endless lavender field....The fragrance of my fabric conditioner being the ticket.
Already laying broken inside the echoing the echoing metal tomb, torn apart furniture
Room for a human?
As you can tell.... this morning's outing with a weak and sombre mother left me drained. I'd like to write positively but my mind has shut down and my body runs on auto.
Just now... a fleeting fly - by over an endless lavender field....The fragrance of my fabric conditioner being the ticket.
Sunday, 24 November 2013
Saturday Night's Feast
Saturday, 23 November 2013
.........Had a dawdle around Rochford square this morning. It was almost empty of people. A few old stragglers slowly passing the butchers making their way to the ever popular Greggs but other than that mum and me had the place to ourselves.
What a difference a few days make..On Tuesday the square was so packed you couldn't help brushing shoulders with the elderly.
I picked up two sherry glasses for 60p, a glass amber coloured tea light holder for 70p and for mum a squidgy white handbag with chunky chain.
Other goodies included a dozen old magazines for £1 and a banana yellow 1pt pudding basin.
This shopping trip was difficult for mum on account of the pain in her arm and down her right side, but she wouldn't hear of staying in, in the warm, with me whilst Mr Horsehound fixed the side gate. She wanted to be out and about in her faux leopard jacket and sensible shoes.
Mother has driven me to overeating and then no eating but I more than admire her tenacity.
She has our evening planned too....
One reaches the stage where it makes sense to accept one's lot and bloody get on with it.
Talking of taking on new things..I've just put an Angel Cake into the oven. Never made it before. But as I read through Mrs Beeton's recipe I thought it sounded light and delicate and rather cute so I found my 6 inch ring tin and had a go.
If it bakes up ok I'll post a pic.
Now I must fly...Mother needs brown bread and marmalade.
What a difference a few days make..On Tuesday the square was so packed you couldn't help brushing shoulders with the elderly.
I picked up two sherry glasses for 60p, a glass amber coloured tea light holder for 70p and for mum a squidgy white handbag with chunky chain.
Other goodies included a dozen old magazines for £1 and a banana yellow 1pt pudding basin.
This shopping trip was difficult for mum on account of the pain in her arm and down her right side, but she wouldn't hear of staying in, in the warm, with me whilst Mr Horsehound fixed the side gate. She wanted to be out and about in her faux leopard jacket and sensible shoes.
Mother has driven me to overeating and then no eating but I more than admire her tenacity.
She has our evening planned too....
One reaches the stage where it makes sense to accept one's lot and bloody get on with it.
Talking of taking on new things..I've just put an Angel Cake into the oven. Never made it before. But as I read through Mrs Beeton's recipe I thought it sounded light and delicate and rather cute so I found my 6 inch ring tin and had a go.
If it bakes up ok I'll post a pic.
Now I must fly...Mother needs brown bread and marmalade.
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Southend-On-Sea
...........A fruitful shopping expedition in the rain
Splashed and damp but we hauled home....
A new leopard print three quarter length coat for mother plus a frilly vest and silly slippers.
For me....bought in a charity shop, an old book called 'A Year's Dinners' written by May Little. No date inside. But by the contents I'm guessing the 1920's 30's.
On the first page it says... 365 Seasonal Dinners. With Instructions for Cooking. A Handy Guide-Book for Worried Housekeepers. (That bit really tickled me)
By May Little, First Class Diplomee, Late Staff Teacher at the National Society's Training School of Cookery, London. Author of "Cookery Up To Date"
It's a glimpse into a bygone age. I love it...... Water Lily Savoury. Cheese Eclairs. Minced Duck and Tomatoes.Calf's Feet Fritters. Sprouts and Cheese. Chicken Kromeskis.
Mum and me spent a good couple of hours jostling with other shopping ladies thoroughly enjoying the warm squeezes and smiles.
I offered tea and toasted tea cakes but mum declined so after a bit of buying in Poundland we headed back to the car where I wrapped mother up like an precious parcel.
Home via McDonalds.
Tonight's Tea...
Minced beef and vegetables with dumplings and mini roasted potatoes
Splashed and damp but we hauled home....
A new leopard print three quarter length coat for mother plus a frilly vest and silly slippers.
For me....bought in a charity shop, an old book called 'A Year's Dinners' written by May Little. No date inside. But by the contents I'm guessing the 1920's 30's.
On the first page it says... 365 Seasonal Dinners. With Instructions for Cooking. A Handy Guide-Book for Worried Housekeepers. (That bit really tickled me)
By May Little, First Class Diplomee, Late Staff Teacher at the National Society's Training School of Cookery, London. Author of "Cookery Up To Date"
It's a glimpse into a bygone age. I love it...... Water Lily Savoury. Cheese Eclairs. Minced Duck and Tomatoes.Calf's Feet Fritters. Sprouts and Cheese. Chicken Kromeskis.
Mum and me spent a good couple of hours jostling with other shopping ladies thoroughly enjoying the warm squeezes and smiles.
I offered tea and toasted tea cakes but mum declined so after a bit of buying in Poundland we headed back to the car where I wrapped mother up like an precious parcel.
Home via McDonalds.
Tonight's Tea...
Minced beef and vegetables with dumplings and mini roasted potatoes
Wednesday, 20 November 2013
.............England's fruitcakes lost to Germany's 'b' team.
We watched in disbelief.
But the highlight of the night's viewing was when former Three Lions player Gary Neville solemnly predicted that England will win a major Tournament in the next 10-15 years...
So by my reckoning England will hold aloft a big shiny cup when I'm picking up me pension.
Whatever you say Gaz, whatever you say.
We watched in disbelief.
But the highlight of the night's viewing was when former Three Lions player Gary Neville solemnly predicted that England will win a major Tournament in the next 10-15 years...
So by my reckoning England will hold aloft a big shiny cup when I'm picking up me pension.
Whatever you say Gaz, whatever you say.
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
More Good Than Bad
....and a vintage cut glass sugar bowl. I could rattle on about my morning with mum and how our marrows were chilled as we stopped at shop after shop but I'll spare you that...I did though buy a giant cauliflower from a man with scared white hair and purple old tats.
Tonight's tea is sausages with potato boulangere and carrots. For sweet... A Queen of Puddings made with blackcurrant jam instead of the usual raspberry. Feels good knocking convention.
By the way I've flung out my bras opting instead for smooth white lycra vests.
Mother, you see, is changing the way I think and feel. Gloria is being knocked hither and thither. To save my life and sanity I've taken my swinging boobies and swollen knees to the bunker from where life seems rosier. It's a damn sight easier than more war.
A row on Sunday being the catalyst.
Mum needed her feet soaked. I'd had a busy day. And I'd just sat down with the Sunday Mirror when I was reminded about her ankles and ingrowing toenails which needed washing and trimming and creaming and other feet jobs.
I flipped. I mean I really growled. So much so that at 7pm, despite screaming foul language and tears from me
poor Mr Horsehound stormed out kicking a filthy hole in the drawing room door and I paralysed by despair jumped in my car and drove around town in my PJs. Such was the rage that engulfed us. Mum though sat watching telly.
We've calmed down now. And tonight Mr Horsehound, mum and myself will watch England take on our old rivals, Germany.
I'm hoping the game will take me to another place.
Tonight's tea is sausages with potato boulangere and carrots. For sweet... A Queen of Puddings made with blackcurrant jam instead of the usual raspberry. Feels good knocking convention.
By the way I've flung out my bras opting instead for smooth white lycra vests.
Mother, you see, is changing the way I think and feel. Gloria is being knocked hither and thither. To save my life and sanity I've taken my swinging boobies and swollen knees to the bunker from where life seems rosier. It's a damn sight easier than more war.
A row on Sunday being the catalyst.
Mum needed her feet soaked. I'd had a busy day. And I'd just sat down with the Sunday Mirror when I was reminded about her ankles and ingrowing toenails which needed washing and trimming and creaming and other feet jobs.
I flipped. I mean I really growled. So much so that at 7pm, despite screaming foul language and tears from me
poor Mr Horsehound stormed out kicking a filthy hole in the drawing room door and I paralysed by despair jumped in my car and drove around town in my PJs. Such was the rage that engulfed us. Mum though sat watching telly.
We've calmed down now. And tonight Mr Horsehound, mum and myself will watch England take on our old rivals, Germany.
I'm hoping the game will take me to another place.
Monday, 18 November 2013
Just the good stuff
Made a stunning Steak and Kidney pudding for dinner yesterday. It was the best one I've made. Packed with chopped braising steak, ox kidney, onion, grated carrot, beef stock, Worcestershire sauce, a dollop of HP sauce and well seasoned.
After steaming it for two hours I turned it out and cut into the featherlight suet pastry. The hot meat and veg slipped out covered in thick brown gravy. To go with it a simple veg combi of plain boiled potatoes and sprouts. Mustard on the side for the grown-ups and for me a squirt of tomato ketchup.
The sweet course was just that. Sweet. A family size Bread and Butter pudding which, for a change, wasn't chokka with dried fruits, I sometimes overdo it. Instead I used far fewer fruits. Much better and no burnt raisins stuck to the baked bread like fried flies.
A drizzle of cream was all that was needed to complete the perfect afters.
Today's offering is corned beef, roast potatoes and peas followed by Queen of Puddings. A nursery pudding made with breadcrumbs, egg custard, jam and meringue...
Certainly been using a lot of bread in my cooking lately. Also being baked this afternoon is Mrs Gordon's Boil and Bake Fruitcake. And as I type a saucepan of... raisins, dried cranberries, sultanas, cherries, dark brown sugar, margarine and water is simmering away... When done (20 minutes) it'll be left to cool then flour, eggs and mixed spices will be added.
Lasts forever and is good toasted too.
On my weekly trek to Hockley charity shops I bought another baking book, this one with a continental feel. Lots of queer things I haven't seen before with a few American recipes thrown in aswell. Couldn't keep my hands of it as I munched through a McDonalds and fries.
Also bought for a pittance a bright cherry red saucepan.
After steaming it for two hours I turned it out and cut into the featherlight suet pastry. The hot meat and veg slipped out covered in thick brown gravy. To go with it a simple veg combi of plain boiled potatoes and sprouts. Mustard on the side for the grown-ups and for me a squirt of tomato ketchup.
The sweet course was just that. Sweet. A family size Bread and Butter pudding which, for a change, wasn't chokka with dried fruits, I sometimes overdo it. Instead I used far fewer fruits. Much better and no burnt raisins stuck to the baked bread like fried flies.
A drizzle of cream was all that was needed to complete the perfect afters.
Today's offering is corned beef, roast potatoes and peas followed by Queen of Puddings. A nursery pudding made with breadcrumbs, egg custard, jam and meringue...
Certainly been using a lot of bread in my cooking lately. Also being baked this afternoon is Mrs Gordon's Boil and Bake Fruitcake. And as I type a saucepan of... raisins, dried cranberries, sultanas, cherries, dark brown sugar, margarine and water is simmering away... When done (20 minutes) it'll be left to cool then flour, eggs and mixed spices will be added.
Lasts forever and is good toasted too.
On my weekly trek to Hockley charity shops I bought another baking book, this one with a continental feel. Lots of queer things I haven't seen before with a few American recipes thrown in aswell. Couldn't keep my hands of it as I munched through a McDonalds and fries.
Also bought for a pittance a bright cherry red saucepan.
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
Walking around Rochford market was preferable to a day out in London. Or so I thought. Yesterday was not nice. After an early morning talk with mum she decided that it would be better if we postponed our planned trek to the smoke leaving it to another day in the near future.
She ended the conversation by adding "I bet you're glad"
Another dagger to my heart.
But I got on with the day.
Taking her to the market and local shops with my friend Mr Hairy Suit. And as mum and I talked the same talk about the same tosh I felt like taking to the woods to live in a tree stump.
Such is the sludge of my everyday.
We moved on.
Hairy Suit was as helpful and cheerful as always. A real sunshine.
Later that day...I developed a headache of epic pain, but mum persisted in her verbal batterings. So I went into the kitchen, ate some paracetamol with sweet tea and day dreamed about living life as a singleton.
It's good to day dream, it's the minds way own sweet way of surviving. Books suck at the moment. Can't lose myself in any of them.
Later, in the evening, Mr Hairy left to go home, and a few minutes later I received a call from him saying he'd have a prang in his Micra and could he pop back for tea.
He arrived a few minutes later, pale and shaky, no enormous physical damage, slight whiplash and a scratched and warped car.
After tea and reassurance he went home feeling better, ready no doubt to sort out the insurance palaver.
He's cool in a crisis, I like that.
I was left with mum and her bitterness.
This morning went out again, this time to the Church charity shop. Mum was ashen and weak so she sat on the shop's cream leather sofa and looked out of their large sparkling window. Meanwhile I shopped. Finding a tartan handbag and brown ceramic pie dish. Perfect I thought for a meat and veg pie come the weekend.
Then into the chemist where the friendly lady assistant said I looked very serious and was there anything wrong. I goofed about being 57 and running out of Savlon. She believed it. I mean, how could I have a chat with her about me feeling like I'm being wrung out like a dishcloth.
She was pleasant enough though.
As I type mum's crusty roll is defrosting, she doesn't like ham sandwiches, she likes ham rolls.
I'm looking forward to Friday.
A bit of grocery shopping without mother in tow AND later on I'll be making a coffee and walnut sponge cake AND England v. Chile at Wembley.
Now I must fly...
I'm peckish and feeling creative so an egg sandwich and a major tidy up of the front room is required.
She ended the conversation by adding "I bet you're glad"
Another dagger to my heart.
But I got on with the day.
Taking her to the market and local shops with my friend Mr Hairy Suit. And as mum and I talked the same talk about the same tosh I felt like taking to the woods to live in a tree stump.
Such is the sludge of my everyday.
We moved on.
Hairy Suit was as helpful and cheerful as always. A real sunshine.
Later that day...I developed a headache of epic pain, but mum persisted in her verbal batterings. So I went into the kitchen, ate some paracetamol with sweet tea and day dreamed about living life as a singleton.
It's good to day dream, it's the minds way own sweet way of surviving. Books suck at the moment. Can't lose myself in any of them.
Later, in the evening, Mr Hairy left to go home, and a few minutes later I received a call from him saying he'd have a prang in his Micra and could he pop back for tea.
He arrived a few minutes later, pale and shaky, no enormous physical damage, slight whiplash and a scratched and warped car.
After tea and reassurance he went home feeling better, ready no doubt to sort out the insurance palaver.
He's cool in a crisis, I like that.
I was left with mum and her bitterness.
This morning went out again, this time to the Church charity shop. Mum was ashen and weak so she sat on the shop's cream leather sofa and looked out of their large sparkling window. Meanwhile I shopped. Finding a tartan handbag and brown ceramic pie dish. Perfect I thought for a meat and veg pie come the weekend.
Then into the chemist where the friendly lady assistant said I looked very serious and was there anything wrong. I goofed about being 57 and running out of Savlon. She believed it. I mean, how could I have a chat with her about me feeling like I'm being wrung out like a dishcloth.
She was pleasant enough though.
As I type mum's crusty roll is defrosting, she doesn't like ham sandwiches, she likes ham rolls.
I'm looking forward to Friday.
A bit of grocery shopping without mother in tow AND later on I'll be making a coffee and walnut sponge cake AND England v. Chile at Wembley.
Now I must fly...
I'm peckish and feeling creative so an egg sandwich and a major tidy up of the front room is required.
Monday, 11 November 2013
This morning..
Having an early morning cup of tea in the bedroom listening to the Today programme on Radio 4 was much needed. Yesterday had been one of those days where mum kind of took over. And by 9pm I'd had enough. We parted though on good terms, me leaving the front room door ajar then walking along the hall waiting for the 'call back'. Mum often doing her Columbo impersonation of 'just one more thing'.
I love going to bed.
I also love and adore my little me moments early a.m. where I sip tea sitting on the bed deciding what frock to wear, I revel in those moments because once I leave the security of my small bedroom the pressure begins.
Take tomorrow for example...mum wants to go to London. To her flat. To look at old coats. which have been hanging in one of her wardrobes for many years.
Train? Car? Taxi?
The daymare begins.
At any rate I have today to look forward to..Hockley post office and charity shops... With Mr Hairy Suit.
Here I am after watching a thrilling Big Band Night on The X Factor. I got dolled up.
A cake stand loaded with overly large Baklava. Despite being carefully filled with walnuts, hazelnuts and pistachios and then drenched in honey and lemon juice AND taking a whole morning to make...they were HORRIBLE. I loathe culinary disasters and this was one of the worst I've ever made. The thing is on Saturday morning I was in two minds as to whether to make them or not, I should have stuck with my original idea...A coffee and walnut sponge. A never fail always yummy cake. But I suppose one learns by one's mistakes. Baklava ? Whatta Palaver.
Having an early morning cup of tea in the bedroom listening to the Today programme on Radio 4 was much needed. Yesterday had been one of those days where mum kind of took over. And by 9pm I'd had enough. We parted though on good terms, me leaving the front room door ajar then walking along the hall waiting for the 'call back'. Mum often doing her Columbo impersonation of 'just one more thing'.
I love going to bed.
I also love and adore my little me moments early a.m. where I sip tea sitting on the bed deciding what frock to wear, I revel in those moments because once I leave the security of my small bedroom the pressure begins.
Take tomorrow for example...mum wants to go to London. To her flat. To look at old coats. which have been hanging in one of her wardrobes for many years.
Train? Car? Taxi?
The daymare begins.
At any rate I have today to look forward to..Hockley post office and charity shops... With Mr Hairy Suit.
Here I am after watching a thrilling Big Band Night on The X Factor. I got dolled up.
Thursday, 7 November 2013
Gorgeous!
Bought today in Debenhams.
The picture of course not doing it justice, it's more cream than white and the lining..oh my Lord the lining...it is gorgeous. Pastel pink satinesque.
I haven't ditched charity shops, no way that'll happen, but today I hungered for something special and I found it.
We popped into the British Heart Foundation shop down by the sea front where mum bought a teeny leopard print chain bag which is now holding MY make-up (mum tires very quickly of stuff). And for 99p I bought a brilliant red mock croc multi pocketed purse. Loads of space for all my pennies.
Then, as the sun shone, sort of, we went to Boots wherein mum bought me a bottle of L'aimant cream scent in the black bottle. Very swish.
She bought one for herself too and enjoyed it very much.
After a short walk we ended up in Poundland where we strolled along filling our basket with:
A pink icing set
A red 2014 diary
The Good, The Bad and the Multiplex a book about what's wrong with modern movies written by the insanely passionate Mark Kermode
A small mug with a picture of a rabbit on it. Not mine.
As we dawdled to the car park I was pleased with how our morning had gone. Mum had been a spirited lovely love and I had maintained an upbeat positive attitude.
The alternative being the way to the madhouse.
Then Home.
And so as we ate our McDonalds watching the heads of MI5, MI6 and GCHQ I tapped my new handbag and smiled.
I love Good Days...
I was relieved to see the dawn of this day.
Last night, after a battle with sleeplessness, I dreamed I was fancied by a tall black delivery driver. I woke abruptly as he handed me a red box of purple socks.
Mum and myself are out today on another shopping trip. I'm wearing a 'new' pair of beige hiking type boots (£2). Hope they don't rub. To be on the safe side I've slightly loosened the bright red laces.
I'm dazed by the brightness of the morning but pleased it's here.
Last night, after a battle with sleeplessness, I dreamed I was fancied by a tall black delivery driver. I woke abruptly as he handed me a red box of purple socks.
Mum and myself are out today on another shopping trip. I'm wearing a 'new' pair of beige hiking type boots (£2). Hope they don't rub. To be on the safe side I've slightly loosened the bright red laces.
I'm dazed by the brightness of the morning but pleased it's here.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Sunday, 3 November 2013
Never Explain or Complain
As I write a steak and kidney pudding is steaming. We're eager to eat it alongside plain boiled potatoes and steamed greens. Going back to basics, returning to simpler food has lately been my love.
Only yesterday did I make a huge pot of chilli serving it with pearly barley and crushed tortilla chips. To add pizazz Mr Hairy uncorked some giggle wasser, a strange combi but it worked.
Recently, on Thursday actually, I had company in the kitchen, Mr Hairy and his son, little Hairy, little Hairy being called as such on account of his tender age and the fact that he's started shaving... His first sproutings being dealt with only last week. Bless Him.
I thought it'd be cool to cook with the young man so I invited him and dad for an afternoon of mixing and managing. Mixing in the form of banana and peanut butter muffins and managing in the guise of trying to keep the mix in the bowl.
What a hoot we had. I have pics to prove it and will soon post a couple.
"Yes! IT'S AN ELECTRIC WHISK"
"give it to me"
Mother has been braver than brave. No news there then. She continues to astonish with her fortitude and vocabulary.
What a love.
Mr Horsehound continues to work unsocial hours but rises smiling and settles in the dark still smiling. A man beyond all comprehension.
I watched the X Factor last night and loved it far more than last weeks limp offering. Music from the films? I was expecting Doris Day not Celine Dion. Mother hated it.
But Disco week had me grooving in me cushion. Oh such memories. Big hair. Slimmer. Staying up till midnight satisfying myself with Donna Summer.
Yeah last night's show was the best so far.
Will tune it tonight to see who gets booted, should be young lad Sam Callahan, got the face but nothing else.
I have to sign orf now, Mother wants to watch my Jack The Ripper DVD.
And as she dozes, as she so often does, I'll creep out to check my saucepan hasn't run dry. Can't think of anything more horrific than a dried up old pudding....
Only yesterday did I make a huge pot of chilli serving it with pearly barley and crushed tortilla chips. To add pizazz Mr Hairy uncorked some giggle wasser, a strange combi but it worked.
Recently, on Thursday actually, I had company in the kitchen, Mr Hairy and his son, little Hairy, little Hairy being called as such on account of his tender age and the fact that he's started shaving... His first sproutings being dealt with only last week. Bless Him.
I thought it'd be cool to cook with the young man so I invited him and dad for an afternoon of mixing and managing. Mixing in the form of banana and peanut butter muffins and managing in the guise of trying to keep the mix in the bowl.
What a hoot we had. I have pics to prove it and will soon post a couple.
Mother has been braver than brave. No news there then. She continues to astonish with her fortitude and vocabulary.
What a love.
Mr Horsehound continues to work unsocial hours but rises smiling and settles in the dark still smiling. A man beyond all comprehension.
I watched the X Factor last night and loved it far more than last weeks limp offering. Music from the films? I was expecting Doris Day not Celine Dion. Mother hated it.
But Disco week had me grooving in me cushion. Oh such memories. Big hair. Slimmer. Staying up till midnight satisfying myself with Donna Summer.
Yeah last night's show was the best so far.
Will tune it tonight to see who gets booted, should be young lad Sam Callahan, got the face but nothing else.
I have to sign orf now, Mother wants to watch my Jack The Ripper DVD.
And as she dozes, as she so often does, I'll creep out to check my saucepan hasn't run dry. Can't think of anything more horrific than a dried up old pudding....
Wednesday, 16 October 2013
Tuesday, 15 October 2013
On account of a glitch in Hairy's blog I can't respond so...... here it is here...............Gloria Horsehound said
I'm well jel......as the youngsters say.
I love the way you think up stuff.
Me? I'm lost without a recipe book.
Thanks for mum's pie, haven't let on yet...
Can't wait to see her face when she takes a bite.
Handsome, hairy and a fab cook.
I love the way you think up stuff.
Me? I'm lost without a recipe book.
Thanks for mum's pie, haven't let on yet...
Can't wait to see her face when she takes a bite.
Handsome, hairy and a fab cook.
Monday, 14 October 2013
NO Time To Launder
My washing basket is chokka blokka
If it's a choice between baking and bleaching, baking winds hands down.
I've concluded that I mismanage time.
I never used to but things have changed.
Much to my disgust and sadness.
Take this morning for instance...Instead of doing the Hockley run with mother and Mr Horsehound (day orf for the old geezer) I would have been blissfully content to wash the floors, do a bit of ironing, bake a Ginger cake with Lime and Cream Cheese frosting but I couldn't............ I HAD to leave the confines of my shabby bungalow to do the same thing as I did last Monday and the one before that and before that etc.
Because Mother needs to.
But there's always a silver lining in the darkest of my clouds...I bought a fedora type brown wool hat (made in Italy) in the charity shop next to the Co-Op. It was love at first feel. Beautiful quality and truly complimentary. And even though the price made me gulp (£3) I smiled at my reflection and paid up.
I also bought a small peacock brooch.
Back home.
Beans on toast and Billy Liar DVD for Mr Horsehound. For mum, corned beef roll and Fistful of Dollars DVD...... and for me...Silence whilst making Gingercake with Lime and Cream Cheese Frosting. And more quiet while doing laundry and general house stuff. I'll finish what needs to be finished but at a cost.
I often have to leave vital me stuff like reading and bathing so as mum can be tidied and uplifted........ and it hurts. But...................................
Can't wait for tomorrow..England v. Poland.
I have everything arranged right down to what time we're going out and getting back :( what we're eating and when, what frock I'm wearing.
Some things are too important to be sidelined...
ENGLAND MUST WIN
again..........
If it's a choice between baking and bleaching, baking winds hands down.
I've concluded that I mismanage time.
I never used to but things have changed.
Much to my disgust and sadness.
Take this morning for instance...Instead of doing the Hockley run with mother and Mr Horsehound (day orf for the old geezer) I would have been blissfully content to wash the floors, do a bit of ironing, bake a Ginger cake with Lime and Cream Cheese frosting but I couldn't............ I HAD to leave the confines of my shabby bungalow to do the same thing as I did last Monday and the one before that and before that etc.
Because Mother needs to.
But there's always a silver lining in the darkest of my clouds...I bought a fedora type brown wool hat (made in Italy) in the charity shop next to the Co-Op. It was love at first feel. Beautiful quality and truly complimentary. And even though the price made me gulp (£3) I smiled at my reflection and paid up.
I also bought a small peacock brooch.
Back home.
Beans on toast and Billy Liar DVD for Mr Horsehound. For mum, corned beef roll and Fistful of Dollars DVD...... and for me...Silence whilst making Gingercake with Lime and Cream Cheese Frosting. And more quiet while doing laundry and general house stuff. I'll finish what needs to be finished but at a cost.
I often have to leave vital me stuff like reading and bathing so as mum can be tidied and uplifted........ and it hurts. But...................................
Can't wait for tomorrow..England v. Poland.
I have everything arranged right down to what time we're going out and getting back :( what we're eating and when, what frock I'm wearing.
Some things are too important to be sidelined...
ENGLAND MUST WIN
again..........
Friday, 11 October 2013
No Soggy Bottom
A very large apple traybake I made this week (cut into fifteen sweet thick brick squares) did not have a damp bottom unlike, I fear, the Wembley pitch will have tonight.
I expect Hodgo has a dry mouth and the boys sweaty armpits at the prospect of meeting Montenegro in tonight's MUST WIN game.
I don't have mouth or armpit problems but my tum is gurgling horribly. Could it be Allinsons wholemeal bread I wonder. Or is it the thought of another evening of watching England.....
Been there, got the T shirt, got the xtreme emotional scarring that comes from watching England play.
Watching and living through an England game is like being punched senseless by a great aunt. You love 'em but how can they hurt you so much.
But having said that, I'll be nailed to the settee at 19:30 waiting for the exquisite torture to kick orf.
Likewise Mother.... she'll breathe a few more rattled determined old breaths when the anthem is played and, with reducing eyesight by the minute... peer sadly flickeringly at my big screen.
Blindness I fear is a-coming.
But lets not be downhearted, I'm making Hot Dogs tonight.
I expect Hodgo has a dry mouth and the boys sweaty armpits at the prospect of meeting Montenegro in tonight's MUST WIN game.
I don't have mouth or armpit problems but my tum is gurgling horribly. Could it be Allinsons wholemeal bread I wonder. Or is it the thought of another evening of watching England.....
Been there, got the T shirt, got the xtreme emotional scarring that comes from watching England play.
Watching and living through an England game is like being punched senseless by a great aunt. You love 'em but how can they hurt you so much.
But having said that, I'll be nailed to the settee at 19:30 waiting for the exquisite torture to kick orf.
Likewise Mother.... she'll breathe a few more rattled determined old breaths when the anthem is played and, with reducing eyesight by the minute... peer sadly flickeringly at my big screen.
Blindness I fear is a-coming.
But lets not be downhearted, I'm making Hot Dogs tonight.
Thursday, 3 October 2013
Found today in shops
- Retro Blue Enamel Pie dish, love at first touch. Can one love a piece of kitsch kitchen kit?
- Retro 1960's sugar dispenser with yellow plastic lid, utilitarian, homely, cute. (20p)
- Very old glass tea jar with cream coloured tin lid, tall, elegant now holding loose tea and long handled spoon
- Embossed glass bottle with cork stopper, has a foreign feel, Sunflower oil looks healthier in glass.
- Stainless Steel mixing bowl, well used but very good looking. Imagining whipping up clouds of egg whites for Lemon Meringue Pies.
- Fringed tan leather jacket. When I'm not baking I'm trying to rock. Mrs Beeton meets Janis Joplin
- William Hope Hodgson's 1908 novel The House on the Borderland. "This extraordinary novel defies categorisation .It is galactic adventures, prophetic fantasy, macabre romance and drugless trip, and brilliantly unites its many disturbing elements, easily equalling, if not surpassing all predecessors and contemporaries (including Jules Verne, Rider Haggard, and H.G.Wells). It is high time Hodgson's masterpiece was made available to the myriad readers he deserves." Aleksis Lykiard
Early To Bed Early To Rise Helps This Old Horsehound
Stay Alive!
Oh yes.
Up at 5 on account of happily having to collect the car.
I dig early mornings.
Although I look foul I feel tickety boo.
Having Alex back means mum will have her morning in Rochford and that's alright with me because although I bleat on about my dodgy painful hips I secretly enjoy doing the whole mum/daughter shopping thing . It's so funny seeing mum emptying her purse with me tut tutting.
I'm looking forward to today.
Last night's food was fabulous. I made a Lamb and Lentil Casserole.....A bag of defrosted lamb chops from Morrisons layered with unpeeled sliced potatoes, onions, carrots and green lentils simmered for hours in beef stock, cranberry jelly and parsley bits.
The beauty of this lovely dish is that it's so simple to make. There isn't any pre-frying , everything goes into the pot raw... Juicy fatty chops, pretty green earthy lentils and homely vegetables. Comfort food at its best.
For pud I made a Very Berry Trifle.
A shop bought Swiss roll sliced and laid in my best glass bowl then topped with half a bag of frozen mixed berries (strawberries, redcurrants, blackberries) and some sugar. Rather than make a real custard I used Bird's custard powder and full fat milk, it tastes so good. After some time in the fridge to firm it up, I whipped half a pint of double cream and swirled it on top. For fun, colour and crunch I scattered lots of toasted flaked almonds on top of the trifle... (Watch toasting almonds, don't be tempted to check emails....)
It was lapped up.
Today's offering is a chicken pearl barley risotto, and for my sweet tooth, chocolate pudding.
Now I must fly, my 'me' time is running out! But having said that I have had a good bunch of me hours!
Oh yes.
Up at 5 on account of happily having to collect the car.
I dig early mornings.
Although I look foul I feel tickety boo.
Having Alex back means mum will have her morning in Rochford and that's alright with me because although I bleat on about my dodgy painful hips I secretly enjoy doing the whole mum/daughter shopping thing . It's so funny seeing mum emptying her purse with me tut tutting.
I'm looking forward to today.
Last night's food was fabulous. I made a Lamb and Lentil Casserole.....A bag of defrosted lamb chops from Morrisons layered with unpeeled sliced potatoes, onions, carrots and green lentils simmered for hours in beef stock, cranberry jelly and parsley bits.
The beauty of this lovely dish is that it's so simple to make. There isn't any pre-frying , everything goes into the pot raw... Juicy fatty chops, pretty green earthy lentils and homely vegetables. Comfort food at its best.
For pud I made a Very Berry Trifle.
A shop bought Swiss roll sliced and laid in my best glass bowl then topped with half a bag of frozen mixed berries (strawberries, redcurrants, blackberries) and some sugar. Rather than make a real custard I used Bird's custard powder and full fat milk, it tastes so good. After some time in the fridge to firm it up, I whipped half a pint of double cream and swirled it on top. For fun, colour and crunch I scattered lots of toasted flaked almonds on top of the trifle... (Watch toasting almonds, don't be tempted to check emails....)
It was lapped up.
Today's offering is a chicken pearl barley risotto, and for my sweet tooth, chocolate pudding.
Now I must fly, my 'me' time is running out! But having said that I have had a good bunch of me hours!
Wednesday, 2 October 2013
Report on young Cameron's speech...
Could do better. Hardly uplifting, so mind numbingly samey, I opened a newspaper. 6/10
But back to my reality.
And today's little tasks.
First, keep mother topped up with linctus, her wet cough hanging on in there.
Log her painkiller intake.
Keep an eye on her everything.
She's such a worry. But my love and admiration grows ever stronger as I see her give her illnesses a run for their money. She aint going down without a fight and my God is she fighting. Talking of God...She often asks why she has been encumbered by lots of diseases and not just one, say cancer, I proffer wisdom by quoting St Teresa of Lisieux
Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.
She halts me halfway with her husky voice by saying there can't be a God. No answer from me or in a book so I make tea.
After Mr Horsehound hangs up his duffle coat tonight, we, that's Mr H, mum and Mr Hairy Suit will all enjoy one of my favourite casseroles, followed by a favourite pud.
Can't let on about the full menu as I want it to be a surprise.
By the way talking of surprises the plumber gave me one on Monday. After a couple of hours tinkering the British Gas engineer, Errol, suggested I get a new boiler and upgrade my existing what nots. I didn't know whether to cry infront of him or not. I didn't of course, instead I rattled on about sharing this information with my husband the very cash strapped Mr Horsehound. Bless. Errol was amused. And I like making people laugh.
And so with that ringing in his ears the nice plumber left but not before sweetly thanking me for my gift of buttered fruit bread and tea.
And so major talks are now under way regarding boilers.
Talking of major heartbreak, our car, little 18 year old Alex Micra, had a check up yesterday, and some of his innards need replacing. Dosh Required. Does anyone have a gun?
Talking of guns I could cheerfully have maimed all X Factor judges on Saturday as one by one they dismissed the little hopefuls who had only minutes before excitedly taken their seat on the white stools of happiness only to shunted orf by someone much betterer. So cruel. So utterly disgraceful. I, with thousands and millions of others don't like this new voting system. But if it bleeds it leads.
Talking of voting systems. I was unfortunate enough to witness an hour of Strictly Come Show-Offs, a dancing bloodbath where celebrities are paired with pros as they try their level best to stay upright while showing off their dancing skills. I hated it. Especially felt nauseous watching the over-hyped Suzanna Reid, who for my money, should ditch reading the news and become an exotic dancer instead. I think the jolly Ms Reid has hidden wants.
Vanessa Feltz was an embarrassment. But that's what the show is about isn't it? The de-robing of people in the public eye for our enjoyment. I say bring back the stocks.
Now I must fly I have a sausage roll to warm
Could do better. Hardly uplifting, so mind numbingly samey, I opened a newspaper. 6/10
But back to my reality.
And today's little tasks.
First, keep mother topped up with linctus, her wet cough hanging on in there.
Log her painkiller intake.
Keep an eye on her everything.
She's such a worry. But my love and admiration grows ever stronger as I see her give her illnesses a run for their money. She aint going down without a fight and my God is she fighting. Talking of God...She often asks why she has been encumbered by lots of diseases and not just one, say cancer, I proffer wisdom by quoting St Teresa of Lisieux
Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.
She halts me halfway with her husky voice by saying there can't be a God. No answer from me or in a book so I make tea.
After Mr Horsehound hangs up his duffle coat tonight, we, that's Mr H, mum and Mr Hairy Suit will all enjoy one of my favourite casseroles, followed by a favourite pud.
Can't let on about the full menu as I want it to be a surprise.
By the way talking of surprises the plumber gave me one on Monday. After a couple of hours tinkering the British Gas engineer, Errol, suggested I get a new boiler and upgrade my existing what nots. I didn't know whether to cry infront of him or not. I didn't of course, instead I rattled on about sharing this information with my husband the very cash strapped Mr Horsehound. Bless. Errol was amused. And I like making people laugh.
And so with that ringing in his ears the nice plumber left but not before sweetly thanking me for my gift of buttered fruit bread and tea.
And so major talks are now under way regarding boilers.
Talking of major heartbreak, our car, little 18 year old Alex Micra, had a check up yesterday, and some of his innards need replacing. Dosh Required. Does anyone have a gun?
Talking of guns I could cheerfully have maimed all X Factor judges on Saturday as one by one they dismissed the little hopefuls who had only minutes before excitedly taken their seat on the white stools of happiness only to shunted orf by someone much betterer. So cruel. So utterly disgraceful. I, with thousands and millions of others don't like this new voting system. But if it bleeds it leads.
Talking of voting systems. I was unfortunate enough to witness an hour of Strictly Come Show-Offs, a dancing bloodbath where celebrities are paired with pros as they try their level best to stay upright while showing off their dancing skills. I hated it. Especially felt nauseous watching the over-hyped Suzanna Reid, who for my money, should ditch reading the news and become an exotic dancer instead. I think the jolly Ms Reid has hidden wants.
Vanessa Feltz was an embarrassment. But that's what the show is about isn't it? The de-robing of people in the public eye for our enjoyment. I say bring back the stocks.
Now I must fly I have a sausage roll to warm
Friday, 27 September 2013
I stayed at home yesterday. I didn't go out. My cheeks weren't slapped by the wind.
It felt odd.
Not going out I mean. It's become a ritual. Every morning Mother staggers to the bathroom while I lurk outside. Listening. Then, if all is well, I pour her into her nice comfy black trousers and out we trot.
Every day.
But yesterday was different, we agreed we were both too unwell to shop. Both feverish with headaches, her having intimate personal problems and me with a a cracking crunching jaw and blocked conk. Nah, home and rest with nice Mr Horsehound doing the teamaking...
The plumber came too.........
At 6pm.
He was truly shocked by what he saw. Not by me or mother, or Mr H for that matter, but by the atrocious way our new boiler had been installed. The poor man stood stunned. His cake and tea going deathly cold on account of this.
I won't go into all he said, suffice to say he's coming back on Monday.
He needs more time, he said, the boiler is a "shambles".
And so as the Denzel Washington lookalike licked his tea cup dry I took mother's microwaved roast beef dinner in.
My Plumber
And so as I sat on the arm of mother's settee I pondered life
No hot water, 57, hot flushes and terminally ill loved one dripping gravy.
Then I looked on the bright side.
I've started reading tea leaves.
It felt odd.
Not going out I mean. It's become a ritual. Every morning Mother staggers to the bathroom while I lurk outside. Listening. Then, if all is well, I pour her into her nice comfy black trousers and out we trot.
Every day.
But yesterday was different, we agreed we were both too unwell to shop. Both feverish with headaches, her having intimate personal problems and me with a a cracking crunching jaw and blocked conk. Nah, home and rest with nice Mr Horsehound doing the teamaking...
The plumber came too.........
At 6pm.
He was truly shocked by what he saw. Not by me or mother, or Mr H for that matter, but by the atrocious way our new boiler had been installed. The poor man stood stunned. His cake and tea going deathly cold on account of this.
I won't go into all he said, suffice to say he's coming back on Monday.
He needs more time, he said, the boiler is a "shambles".
And so as the Denzel Washington lookalike licked his tea cup dry I took mother's microwaved roast beef dinner in.
And so as I sat on the arm of mother's settee I pondered life
No hot water, 57, hot flushes and terminally ill loved one dripping gravy.
Then I looked on the bright side.
I've started reading tea leaves.
Thursday, 26 September 2013
I've been wondering whether to blog. Should I write a piece now or wait till I feel better?
Feeling better might take some time so..
The holiday was fantastic, an enormous barn of a place, more cathedral than farmhouse. Several times I felt waves of spirituality wash over me...Especially when I stood on the grass with binoculars observing a moonlit sky.
Anyway after leaving a welcome basket of tea, coffee and homemade cake the owners left us.. I was relieved on account of the man of the business being overly jolly.
I just wanted him out and us IN!
And inside was luscious.A lot of money had been spent and we couldn't wait to unpack and play.
Mother was cool in her new home, falling into the brown leather sofa without effort. I felt her recently acquired dry skin cream was doing the bizzo in the butto region.
As for Mr Hairy and myself we just did what all friends do when presented with unimaginable joy, we goofed and grinned smiling like the happy couple we were.
It was an enormously generous gift Hairy had handed Mother and myself. And we were determined to love every hour.
Shopping trips to Maldon and Burham were successful, clothes for mum and a tan leather handbag for me. Hairy splashed out on a rainproof coat and leather jacket.
During one excursion we needed sustenance so barged our way into a coffee shop for tea, hot chocolate and toasted sandwiches.
And as I ate I thought....Here I was, happy but aching, my arm around mum's shoulders, sitting opposite a wonderfully barmy man.
Yeah, life was ok.
Then we came home and my jaw started playing up.
And it's still having a ball.
I will, after my cold has gone, see a doc. No two ways about it. I can't forever mash me food between me gappy front teeth like an aging rabbit .
Bugger.
Talking of pain. The boiler is still broken. But the gasman cometh this p.m.
And so as I write....Mother is dozing on her settee being supported by magazines newspapers and bottles of diabetic friendly linctus. Mr Horsehound is tinkling with the washing up listening to Radio 4. Mr Hairy sending supportive texts.
X
Feeling better might take some time so..
The holiday was fantastic, an enormous barn of a place, more cathedral than farmhouse. Several times I felt waves of spirituality wash over me...Especially when I stood on the grass with binoculars observing a moonlit sky.
Anyway after leaving a welcome basket of tea, coffee and homemade cake the owners left us.. I was relieved on account of the man of the business being overly jolly.
I just wanted him out and us IN!
And inside was luscious.A lot of money had been spent and we couldn't wait to unpack and play.
Mother was cool in her new home, falling into the brown leather sofa without effort. I felt her recently acquired dry skin cream was doing the bizzo in the butto region.
As for Mr Hairy and myself we just did what all friends do when presented with unimaginable joy, we goofed and grinned smiling like the happy couple we were.
It was an enormously generous gift Hairy had handed Mother and myself. And we were determined to love every hour.
Shopping trips to Maldon and Burham were successful, clothes for mum and a tan leather handbag for me. Hairy splashed out on a rainproof coat and leather jacket.
During one excursion we needed sustenance so barged our way into a coffee shop for tea, hot chocolate and toasted sandwiches.
And as I ate I thought....Here I was, happy but aching, my arm around mum's shoulders, sitting opposite a wonderfully barmy man.
Yeah, life was ok.
Then we came home and my jaw started playing up.
And it's still having a ball.
I will, after my cold has gone, see a doc. No two ways about it. I can't forever mash me food between me gappy front teeth like an aging rabbit .
Bugger.
Talking of pain. The boiler is still broken. But the gasman cometh this p.m.
And so as I write....Mother is dozing on her settee being supported by magazines newspapers and bottles of diabetic friendly linctus. Mr Horsehound is tinkling with the washing up listening to Radio 4. Mr Hairy sending supportive texts.
X
Monday, 16 September 2013
Bakeathon
1 Chicken Pie
12 Peanut Butter and Banana Muffins
1 Cinnamon Loaf
The first bake made from yesterday's leftover roast chicken, the second using ripe bananas and half a jar of peanut butter and thirdly, my favourite, filling the bungalow with the delicious warm scented aroma of hot cinnamon.
Oh my giddy aunt...baking..... so comforting, so calming, so worthwhile. So essential. I Love it.
The Pie is for tonight's tea and if there's any left Mr Horsehound will eat it cold tomorrow with chutney. A dozen Muffins will be packed alongside my socks when Mr Hairy Suit, Mother and myself toddle orf tomorrow on a late Summer/early Autumn break into the nether regions of the Essex countryside.
The 'S' shaped Cinnamon Loaf will be for our breakfast and for snacking on.
We're all hoping this mini break will give mum a little respite from her intolerable day-to-day set up here at the Bungalow.
I'm looking forward to it too. And although my job will be the same at least there will be a different view from the window.
Pretty Cool eh?
I need to pack a few bits now, and won't make the mistake of taking too many clothes. Travelling light. Talking of travelling I'm reading Jack Finney's 'Time and Again'. Already had the pleasure of this fine read but feel the urge to once again, go back in time. It is already packed in my mini suitcase along with toothpaste and prayer mat. Although one doesn't need to bend the knee to beg.
Mr Hairy will be donning his reading glasses too, he'll have Terry Pratchett for company, as for poor mama she'll be gazing glassy eyed at divorcing anorexic celebrities lavished over the pages of pointless magazines.
And so as bullets fly in the darkened drawing room (Dirty Harry on DVD) and Mr Horsehound catches up on more intellectual pursuits in the kitchen (radio 4) I type.
What a set-up.
12 Peanut Butter and Banana Muffins
1 Cinnamon Loaf
The first bake made from yesterday's leftover roast chicken, the second using ripe bananas and half a jar of peanut butter and thirdly, my favourite, filling the bungalow with the delicious warm scented aroma of hot cinnamon.
Oh my giddy aunt...baking..... so comforting, so calming, so worthwhile. So essential. I Love it.
The Pie is for tonight's tea and if there's any left Mr Horsehound will eat it cold tomorrow with chutney. A dozen Muffins will be packed alongside my socks when Mr Hairy Suit, Mother and myself toddle orf tomorrow on a late Summer/early Autumn break into the nether regions of the Essex countryside.
The 'S' shaped Cinnamon Loaf will be for our breakfast and for snacking on.
We're all hoping this mini break will give mum a little respite from her intolerable day-to-day set up here at the Bungalow.
I'm looking forward to it too. And although my job will be the same at least there will be a different view from the window.
I need to pack a few bits now, and won't make the mistake of taking too many clothes. Travelling light. Talking of travelling I'm reading Jack Finney's 'Time and Again'. Already had the pleasure of this fine read but feel the urge to once again, go back in time. It is already packed in my mini suitcase along with toothpaste and prayer mat. Although one doesn't need to bend the knee to beg.
Mr Hairy will be donning his reading glasses too, he'll have Terry Pratchett for company, as for poor mama she'll be gazing glassy eyed at divorcing anorexic celebrities lavished over the pages of pointless magazines.
And so as bullets fly in the darkened drawing room (Dirty Harry on DVD) and Mr Horsehound catches up on more intellectual pursuits in the kitchen (radio 4) I type.
What a set-up.
Saturday, 14 September 2013
Treasure
After yesterday's non-stop 'doing all I can for mother' day (she needed medical confirmations, pharmacist reassurances and hot damp treks around town) I watched, for one hour only, an episode of Columbo.
And while watching I sank a little deeper into the wine red cushions, wishing I could stay all day, all through the night, letting myself be mesmerised by hours of movies and a little X Factor tosh...I wanted to vanish. Disappear.
My sit-downs are few...When Columbo had bagged the bad guys
I clipped old yellowing nails, bed bathed her and felt crushed looking into her hollowed weeping eyes. After taking some more painkillers Mum gave up her settee for a lie down on her bed whilst I made some Cornish Pasties.
I sat at the table chopping and slicing meat and veg as an American actor grimaced and gurgled as he turned from an All American Guy into a rotten werewolf.
It was a silly film but such a comfort.
I've made seven pasties, four for this evening and three to freeze.
GOOD THINGS
Looking forward to tonight's X Factor, another opportunity to shed the apron and latex gloves and don my laughing hat.
I have lots of lovely apples to cook with. I'm thinking..Pies, cakes, crumbles, and just plain baked with syrup.
Having a few days away next week. Olde farmhouse, own pond, beams and lots of shops a car ride away.
Hairy Suit's idea. Mother to chaperone. Might need a bigger car so we can take her orthopaedic mattress. Hope it doesn't deflate.
And while watching I sank a little deeper into the wine red cushions, wishing I could stay all day, all through the night, letting myself be mesmerised by hours of movies and a little X Factor tosh...I wanted to vanish. Disappear.
My sit-downs are few...When Columbo had bagged the bad guys
I clipped old yellowing nails, bed bathed her and felt crushed looking into her hollowed weeping eyes. After taking some more painkillers Mum gave up her settee for a lie down on her bed whilst I made some Cornish Pasties.
I sat at the table chopping and slicing meat and veg as an American actor grimaced and gurgled as he turned from an All American Guy into a rotten werewolf.
It was a silly film but such a comfort.
I've made seven pasties, four for this evening and three to freeze.
GOOD THINGS
Looking forward to tonight's X Factor, another opportunity to shed the apron and latex gloves and don my laughing hat.
I have lots of lovely apples to cook with. I'm thinking..Pies, cakes, crumbles, and just plain baked with syrup.
Having a few days away next week. Olde farmhouse, own pond, beams and lots of shops a car ride away.
Hairy Suit's idea. Mother to chaperone. Might need a bigger car so we can take her orthopaedic mattress. Hope it doesn't deflate.
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Oh What A Morning
After a heart breaking revelation from mum late last night I slept uneasily. She's losing her sight and can barely walk so it's no surprise she wishes she was with dad...
This morning, after making breakfast for Hairy Suit, ( My God that man loves food) I made haste to Morrisons but not before reassuring a stay at home mum that we'd definitely hit the shops tomorrow..... she believed me. A hop skip and jump around Rochford might just be what the doc would order...
Mum's tears are plentiful.
As is her bravery.
What a gal.
Swanning around Mo's place is long black and white woollen skirt and black leather biker jacket I was the epitome of cool, but only one look in my trolley and you'd realize I was nothing but a toe curlingly humble homemaker who has a penchant for baked goods and bleach.
I felt light-headed as I trawled the aisles, no-one aggravated me, no-one existed, I was in my own perfectly peaceful bubble.
Back home to Hairy and a cuppa.
He's handy about the house...shelving expert, veg peeler, washer-upper and mother-sitter. Here he is taking up a hem.
After he did me stitching I booted him out and back to his other home, I then made an ALL BRAN loaf and sat with mother.
This morning, after making breakfast for Hairy Suit, ( My God that man loves food) I made haste to Morrisons but not before reassuring a stay at home mum that we'd definitely hit the shops tomorrow..... she believed me. A hop skip and jump around Rochford might just be what the doc would order...
Mum's tears are plentiful.
As is her bravery.
What a gal.
Swanning around Mo's place is long black and white woollen skirt and black leather biker jacket I was the epitome of cool, but only one look in my trolley and you'd realize I was nothing but a toe curlingly humble homemaker who has a penchant for baked goods and bleach.
I felt light-headed as I trawled the aisles, no-one aggravated me, no-one existed, I was in my own perfectly peaceful bubble.
Back home to Hairy and a cuppa.
He's handy about the house...shelving expert, veg peeler, washer-upper and mother-sitter. Here he is taking up a hem.
After he did me stitching I booted him out and back to his other home, I then made an ALL BRAN loaf and sat with mother.
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
England v. Ukraine
Hodgo couldn't have been pleased with 0-0. His players, my boys, did their best (Christ!) but to not much avail. The Ukranians punched and fought, felling a few in the process and we too doing our bit but neither side popped one in.
So as mum, myself and Monty sat close together watching the eagerly awaited spectacle I wondered about our next match against Montenegro in October.
More of the same I expect. More worry, more nervous anticipation but goals I hope. Because if we don't get a resounding victory Hodgo and the lads will be in for a few sleepless nights because a few days later we, England, meet the clowns that are POLAND...
And I for one cannot imagine a more sick inducing night than being in another do or die game...They give me the pip.
I'm going to Sainsbury's now and hanging from the rear view mirror are two little England balls. Because. I Still Believe...
Jan Tomaszewskj
Poland's Goalkeeper who stopped England
qualifying for the 1974 World Cup.
So as mum, myself and Monty sat close together watching the eagerly awaited spectacle I wondered about our next match against Montenegro in October.
More of the same I expect. More worry, more nervous anticipation but goals I hope. Because if we don't get a resounding victory Hodgo and the lads will be in for a few sleepless nights because a few days later we, England, meet the clowns that are POLAND...
And I for one cannot imagine a more sick inducing night than being in another do or die game...They give me the pip.
I'm going to Sainsbury's now and hanging from the rear view mirror are two little England balls. Because. I Still Believe...
Poland's Goalkeeper who stopped England
qualifying for the 1974 World Cup.
Saturday, 7 September 2013
England 4 Moldova 0
I loved every moment of the match not taking my eyes off the ball even when a hot oily giggle of Lim Lam soft noodles slithered down my frontage. Awesome.
So what now?
Roy's lads, Roy's little soldiers, now face Ukraine, who are almost in the same position/boat as us. Played 7 Won 7 but are a point down on us.
Tuesday's Vital game against Ooooohkraine will yet again see fans from both nations screaming and clutching their faces as the little ball bounces from one end of pitch t'other.
Love It...
I will of course arrange my day around the game. Feeling incredibly excited whilst shopping then....Fixing a light supper, and with mum perched on her orthopedic cushion we will watch...Another Must Win Game.
I hope though that sounds of Monty slurping up gravy drenched beef slices from the carpet, as he did last night, will be replaced by the noise of gentle munching. Probably half of one of mum's pork sausages.
Today I'm taking it easy...
Friday, 6 September 2013
Lord Ricky Lambert takes Rooney's Place
I'm looking forward to tonight...
England V Moldy... with a Chinese Take Away and packed settee.
Mr Hairy, mum, Mr Horsehound and a very excitable me....
Oh Lord I hope Roy and Ricky gets us a result x
Thursday, 5 September 2013
My sensible linen frock rocks!
Thought though that linen was supposed to be cooler than cotton, man.
Tosh!
I'm squelched.
At any rate I'm still managing to haul mum around, do essentials in the old body dept; and create a beautiful environment in which to linger....If only I could. To Linger is my ambition.
As I wash lettuce for our tuna and pork pie salad tonight my mind will on Roy's Boys...Because....Tomorrow night England play Moldova at Wembley and it will be that which will keep me afloat as mum and me go on yet another crazy excursion to lovely Southend-On-Sea
I love international games.
Moldova bad
England good
Ion Caras Manager of Moldova
Bad
Roy
Better.
Thought though that linen was supposed to be cooler than cotton, man.
Tosh!
I'm squelched.
At any rate I'm still managing to haul mum around, do essentials in the old body dept; and create a beautiful environment in which to linger....If only I could. To Linger is my ambition.
As I wash lettuce for our tuna and pork pie salad tonight my mind will on Roy's Boys...Because....Tomorrow night England play Moldova at Wembley and it will be that which will keep me afloat as mum and me go on yet another crazy excursion to lovely Southend-On-Sea
I love international games.
England good
Bad
Roy
Better.
Wednesday, 4 September 2013
After sorting out mother's many needs and wants I bundled her back into the front room (she'd been too close lounging in the conservatory) I then started a massive clear out of the kitchen.
Into a plastic sack went ornaments, jugs, pictures, bottles and pots. I was, you see, beginning to feel overcome, overwhelmed, suffocated by STUFF. It had to go.
I love collecting, as you know, but there comes a time, a telling time if you like, when one realizes, in many aspects of life, what one does and doesn't want. This morning was such time. I didn't want big jugs. As I de-cluttered shelves, taking away all but the very best favourites I questioned my health. It hasn't been as incredibly good lately and 'tis true I'm rapidly approaching some kind of middle age so I think the time had come for an Emotions MOT.
Starting orf with getting rid of the superfluous.
So as I dropped bowls and pots and ceramic chickens and sweet cute jam pots into the sack I began to feel rejuvenated.It was as if, with every once must have object I threw away, my world and vision was made clearer.
I think having a very emotional and physically wrecked Mother lurking in the bowels of the bungalow has defo taken its toll not only my back but on every fibre of my being. So much so that I've taken to talking to my invisible dad. I feel murderously protective towards mum, if anyone even looks at her either patronizingly or with impatience my claws extend as does my tongue.
And that is why this morning and afternoon, I swept bric-a-brac orf the shelve in an effort to reclaim some space.
So without a tear dropped I bagged a ton of trinkets which will, tomorrow, return to the place from whence they come...
Cooking tonight:
Of course
Into a plastic sack went ornaments, jugs, pictures, bottles and pots. I was, you see, beginning to feel overcome, overwhelmed, suffocated by STUFF. It had to go.
I love collecting, as you know, but there comes a time, a telling time if you like, when one realizes, in many aspects of life, what one does and doesn't want. This morning was such time. I didn't want big jugs. As I de-cluttered shelves, taking away all but the very best favourites I questioned my health. It hasn't been as incredibly good lately and 'tis true I'm rapidly approaching some kind of middle age so I think the time had come for an Emotions MOT.
Starting orf with getting rid of the superfluous.
So as I dropped bowls and pots and ceramic chickens and sweet cute jam pots into the sack I began to feel rejuvenated.It was as if, with every once must have object I threw away, my world and vision was made clearer.
I think having a very emotional and physically wrecked Mother lurking in the bowels of the bungalow has defo taken its toll not only my back but on every fibre of my being. So much so that I've taken to talking to my invisible dad. I feel murderously protective towards mum, if anyone even looks at her either patronizingly or with impatience my claws extend as does my tongue.
And that is why this morning and afternoon, I swept bric-a-brac orf the shelve in an effort to reclaim some space.
So without a tear dropped I bagged a ton of trinkets which will, tomorrow, return to the place from whence they come...
Cooking tonight:
Of course
Monday, 2 September 2013
A Girl's Past
In the snow flecked coal shed
lies hide
their truth dank, wicked
without hope of forgiveness
In the snow flecked coal shed
Imperious
the fib teller recounts
beastly days out back
when, with, hands lost in carbon black
he cleaved to his angel
Monstrous sweetness
A sound, an energy of wings perhaps
releases the captured
and off she flies
with coal black lies dissipating into a white sky
Angela Norris
lies hide
their truth dank, wicked
without hope of forgiveness
In the snow flecked coal shed
Imperious
the fib teller recounts
beastly days out back
when, with, hands lost in carbon black
he cleaved to his angel
Monstrous sweetness
A sound, an energy of wings perhaps
releases the captured
and off she flies
with coal black lies dissipating into a white sky
Angela Norris
Sunday, 1 September 2013
Oh Baby
Braised bacon, jacket potatoes, steamed greens, carrots and apple wedges braised with bacon. I served this with some redcurrant jelly and a Merlot spritzer. I am no wine respecter.
A good thick minced steak burger made with just the addition of an egg and seasoning. Popped on some leaves and covered with Cheddar, ketchup, raw onion and tomato slice. Coleslaw and homemade Wedges make this oh so simple dinner a much loved winner. In the background....My only concession to healthy eating..A pair of plums.
Utterly moreish, so easy and economical to make and what makes me really go beserkly happy is it's nuked for four minutes in my microwave. The days of a two hour steam are so over. I do feel though that I'm letting my sister cooks down. But happy faces are what I like to see and when a slice of this plump bum bum of a pud is laid on the plate all I get are wows and cors!!! Guilt Gone.
Talking of food..
Today's dinner is a roast chicken, with peas, roast potatoes and a sage gravy. And for afters...Plum crumble and custard. The plums were given to me by Mr Hairy. After stoning his purple fruits I put them in a baking dish, topped them with Demerara sugar and cinnamon. Then topped that with a flour, brown sugar, butter, muesli enriched crumble mix. Heaven.
I'll be watching The X Factor later so I'd better get flying...........................
Hope you're all drooling!
Friday, 30 August 2013
A Good Morning
Mum and me had such a good morning, didn't do anything spectacularly different, just wandered easily around six of our most favourite stores on earth.
Five of the six being charity shops...
We were lucky too with the weather...Very warm, bordering of hot, and us dressed suitably. Mum in silk black spotted blouse, trousers of course, but with pop socks instead of her usual 20 denier tights. My Idea....
I went for a Mediterranean look. Multi blues sleeveless maxi frock with ooh la la frill tickling my ankles. Bare legs, which I must confess is a rarity, I prefer my pins to be covered.
Flats in the shoe department, always. Red cotton boat shoes with a rope thing dangling....Mum preferring to stick with her trainer type booties in creme...
We bought a few goodies. Nothing costing more than £2.
For mum:
Three handbags. 50p 50p and £1
Book about Killers £1
Pretty pocket mirror 99p
Teal blouse by Berketex £1.75
My Stuff:
Daffodil yellow Liz Claiborne shoulder bag. Tagged at £2 but the nice lady manning the till only taking £1. Spreading a little kindness perhaps.
A deep glorious dark brown bowl, so gorgeous I would have happily paid more than the asking price of 75p. I envisaged creme caramels or steak and kidney puddings. It now sits on my windowsill because it deserves to.
A rather insolent looking ceramic black cat ( five inches high) with its blood red tongue poking out and a chipped left ear. Brat. 50p
A small dainty glass dish, with chunky legs....perfect for peanuts or sugar cubes. 30p
A scratched much used fairy cakes tin . Outside the shop in the 20p box.
A hinged pocket mirror with an engraved sparrow on the lid. 99p (new)
Also in the shopping bag...a half cucumber, bag of Wotsits and lotions for mother.
All in all a very lovable morning
Back to Homelife.
Being cooked today...
Homemade Hamburgers with raw onion, a salad leaf selection and Cheddar. Sauces and ketchup on offer.
To go with the burgers, homemade Spicy Potato Wedges.
Shop bought Coleslaw. And for pud...see below
All dead easy to make and quick too which leaves me plenty of time to make a dozen Blueberry Muffins. Luckily for all concerned I spotted a punnet of Blueberries on the reduced for quick sale table in Morrisons yesterday...
Oh fantastic I though I'll do something with them tomorrow afternoon.....
Now I must fly...Mother is napping HOORAY!
Five of the six being charity shops...
We were lucky too with the weather...Very warm, bordering of hot, and us dressed suitably. Mum in silk black spotted blouse, trousers of course, but with pop socks instead of her usual 20 denier tights. My Idea....
I went for a Mediterranean look. Multi blues sleeveless maxi frock with ooh la la frill tickling my ankles. Bare legs, which I must confess is a rarity, I prefer my pins to be covered.
Flats in the shoe department, always. Red cotton boat shoes with a rope thing dangling....Mum preferring to stick with her trainer type booties in creme...
We bought a few goodies. Nothing costing more than £2.
For mum:
Three handbags. 50p 50p and £1
Book about Killers £1
Pretty pocket mirror 99p
Teal blouse by Berketex £1.75
My Stuff:
Daffodil yellow Liz Claiborne shoulder bag. Tagged at £2 but the nice lady manning the till only taking £1. Spreading a little kindness perhaps.
A deep glorious dark brown bowl, so gorgeous I would have happily paid more than the asking price of 75p. I envisaged creme caramels or steak and kidney puddings. It now sits on my windowsill because it deserves to.
A rather insolent looking ceramic black cat ( five inches high) with its blood red tongue poking out and a chipped left ear. Brat. 50p
A small dainty glass dish, with chunky legs....perfect for peanuts or sugar cubes. 30p
A scratched much used fairy cakes tin . Outside the shop in the 20p box.
A hinged pocket mirror with an engraved sparrow on the lid. 99p (new)
Also in the shopping bag...a half cucumber, bag of Wotsits and lotions for mother.
All in all a very lovable morning
Back to Homelife.
Being cooked today...
Homemade Hamburgers with raw onion, a salad leaf selection and Cheddar. Sauces and ketchup on offer.
To go with the burgers, homemade Spicy Potato Wedges.
Shop bought Coleslaw. And for pud...see below
All dead easy to make and quick too which leaves me plenty of time to make a dozen Blueberry Muffins. Luckily for all concerned I spotted a punnet of Blueberries on the reduced for quick sale table in Morrisons yesterday...
Oh fantastic I though I'll do something with them tomorrow afternoon.....
Now I must fly...Mother is napping HOORAY!
Wednesday, 28 August 2013
A Quick Post
Taking the opportunity for a little 'me time' as mum watches yet another murder mystery on ITV3. So while she snoozes...I can finish off some bread making, make a beef and courgette bake for tonight's tea then sneak into the conservatory with a cuppa.
I relish these oh so few times. Times when I'm in my element. Cooking with the window open, tv news on, flicking through recipe books, touching up my lipstick, giving my neck a re-spray of my favourite scent.
Simple activities but priceless.
I have a Farmhouse loaf on its second rise, and the casserole is all but done, added a few mushrooms to the meat and courgette and a good glug of Merlot for extra richness.
An almost endless squeeze of tomato puree adding a rich and sweet redness to the mix and to finish orf, black pepper scattered around like rice at a wedding.
I just heard the weatherman say Autumnal weather is on the way...
Perfect.
Now I must fly, my me time is running out!
I relish these oh so few times. Times when I'm in my element. Cooking with the window open, tv news on, flicking through recipe books, touching up my lipstick, giving my neck a re-spray of my favourite scent.
Simple activities but priceless.
I have a Farmhouse loaf on its second rise, and the casserole is all but done, added a few mushrooms to the meat and courgette and a good glug of Merlot for extra richness.
An almost endless squeeze of tomato puree adding a rich and sweet redness to the mix and to finish orf, black pepper scattered around like rice at a wedding.
I just heard the weatherman say Autumnal weather is on the way...
Perfect.
Now I must fly, my me time is running out!
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
Excursion
To Southend-on-Sea for Mother and I.
I decided early this morning that it was folly to fight a battle that cannot be won so I hoisted mum into her paper knickers, pulled a red spotted blouse over her frizzy hair, zipped up some truly awful black trousers and took her sea side.
It was a lovely morning though, sunlight, windless. After parking up for free in Sainsbury's disabled patch mum and me settled into our traipse down to the front...Passing on the way, charity shops, post office and Boots the chemist wherein much later I questioned the No;7 assistant about my 'perfect' match foundation so quickly shoved into my hands several weeks ago by an assistant in the Colchester branch...
More on that later.
First stop TK Maxx where mum and I licked our lips at the sight and feel of so many luscious handbags. Gorgeous or what. I saw a few dozen I liked, mum seeing only five. Dazing and feeling our way around the racks of leather goods I had a little thought 'wouldn't it be good to find a similar bag for a fraction of the price'...
After a while we left TKMaxx bagless heading to place where we could afford ALL the bags. Primark. It was stuffed. With women and bags.
Mum oohed as I drove her around the shelves passing 'reduced' blouses and short socks. We came to the handbags.
Oh dear. I am I'm afraid to say somewhat of a snob when it comes to le sacs. My preference is for leather and Primark don't do leather but as I wheeled mum from the awful brick sized purses to the tat jewellry a college of satchels nearly had me eye out.
Bang into them I went (compensation?) their plastic smell nearly making me gag but there was warmth and kinship in the satchels so I threw one on me shoulder.
And as if by magick I was 14 again...
Looking in the mirror this and that way I stroked the made in China monstrosity wondering if it was the menopause that was causing the interest in this too bad bag.
"You like that don't you?" interrupted Mother
"I think I do" and with that mark of madness I put the satchel on mum's lap telling her not to drop it.
A far cry from the mega pounds price tags in TKMaxx.
One must always be true to thyself and one should always buy one's bags according to one's dosh. I'm not money rich so I queued and handed over £9 to June on the till.
And then bustle bustle back to the high street where a stop at the No;7 counter in Boots was called for. Grrrr.
A while ago in Colchester, an overblown sort representing No;7 sold me a 'perfect' foundation. Soft Rose. For ageing skin. Cheek...At the time I was suspicious, she was too quick and seemed miles away but idiotically I bought it anyway, being British and not wishing to argue, and I wore it but it never felt right..
I persevered because it cost a lot. Today though I tried again.
Lauren, the young advisor looked astonished when I told her about the Soft Rose given to me by the sort in Colchester "Oh no" she said and went on to match me the right foundation. Soft Vanilla... And during the ensuing consultation offering a free bottle of foundation in reparation for the terrible colour injustice suffered by a loyal Boots customer.
Lauren was lovely.
But not in Colchester...
And so feeling very happy indeed mum and me went to Poundland.
Fifteen minutes and three pounds later we emerged with biscuits, a book about serial killers and nice tin of vaseline.
Post Office for pension.
British Heart foundation shop. A dark brown squashy pvc bag for mum. Woman on till a dead ringer for Lotte Lenya.
Out and into the lunchtime sun.
I was feeling ok. Make Up sorted, mum uncomplaining, my jaw not hurting as much. It's been a real pain lately a touch of the old TMJ again methinks. I've been envisaging useless exercises then being planked on an operating table again where the Mr Surgeon makes an incision and does a bit of poking around. The last time had TMJ was a decade ago and I'm afraid to say it's RETURNED. I will of course be an idiot and put up with it until my teeth fall out due to not being able to insert a toothbrush into my slit of a mouth. The worst aspect about Temporomandibular Joint Dysfunction is the not being able to enjoy anything remotely hard.
Home to softness in the form of soggy fries. But this morning was a good un, I wasn't stressed and mother remained 'dry'.
A nice day out.
I decided early this morning that it was folly to fight a battle that cannot be won so I hoisted mum into her paper knickers, pulled a red spotted blouse over her frizzy hair, zipped up some truly awful black trousers and took her sea side.
It was a lovely morning though, sunlight, windless. After parking up for free in Sainsbury's disabled patch mum and me settled into our traipse down to the front...Passing on the way, charity shops, post office and Boots the chemist wherein much later I questioned the No;7 assistant about my 'perfect' match foundation so quickly shoved into my hands several weeks ago by an assistant in the Colchester branch...
More on that later.
First stop TK Maxx where mum and I licked our lips at the sight and feel of so many luscious handbags. Gorgeous or what. I saw a few dozen I liked, mum seeing only five. Dazing and feeling our way around the racks of leather goods I had a little thought 'wouldn't it be good to find a similar bag for a fraction of the price'...
After a while we left TKMaxx bagless heading to place where we could afford ALL the bags. Primark. It was stuffed. With women and bags.
Mum oohed as I drove her around the shelves passing 'reduced' blouses and short socks. We came to the handbags.
Oh dear. I am I'm afraid to say somewhat of a snob when it comes to le sacs. My preference is for leather and Primark don't do leather but as I wheeled mum from the awful brick sized purses to the tat jewellry a college of satchels nearly had me eye out.
Bang into them I went (compensation?) their plastic smell nearly making me gag but there was warmth and kinship in the satchels so I threw one on me shoulder.
And as if by magick I was 14 again...
Looking in the mirror this and that way I stroked the made in China monstrosity wondering if it was the menopause that was causing the interest in this too bad bag.
"You like that don't you?" interrupted Mother
"I think I do" and with that mark of madness I put the satchel on mum's lap telling her not to drop it.
A far cry from the mega pounds price tags in TKMaxx.
One must always be true to thyself and one should always buy one's bags according to one's dosh. I'm not money rich so I queued and handed over £9 to June on the till.
And then bustle bustle back to the high street where a stop at the No;7 counter in Boots was called for. Grrrr.
A while ago in Colchester, an overblown sort representing No;7 sold me a 'perfect' foundation. Soft Rose. For ageing skin. Cheek...At the time I was suspicious, she was too quick and seemed miles away but idiotically I bought it anyway, being British and not wishing to argue, and I wore it but it never felt right..
I persevered because it cost a lot. Today though I tried again.
Lauren, the young advisor looked astonished when I told her about the Soft Rose given to me by the sort in Colchester "Oh no" she said and went on to match me the right foundation. Soft Vanilla... And during the ensuing consultation offering a free bottle of foundation in reparation for the terrible colour injustice suffered by a loyal Boots customer.
Lauren was lovely.
And so feeling very happy indeed mum and me went to Poundland.
Fifteen minutes and three pounds later we emerged with biscuits, a book about serial killers and nice tin of vaseline.
Post Office for pension.
British Heart foundation shop. A dark brown squashy pvc bag for mum. Woman on till a dead ringer for Lotte Lenya.
Out and into the lunchtime sun.
I was feeling ok. Make Up sorted, mum uncomplaining, my jaw not hurting as much. It's been a real pain lately a touch of the old TMJ again methinks. I've been envisaging useless exercises then being planked on an operating table again where the Mr Surgeon makes an incision and does a bit of poking around. The last time had TMJ was a decade ago and I'm afraid to say it's RETURNED. I will of course be an idiot and put up with it until my teeth fall out due to not being able to insert a toothbrush into my slit of a mouth. The worst aspect about Temporomandibular Joint Dysfunction is the not being able to enjoy anything remotely hard.
Home to softness in the form of soggy fries. But this morning was a good un, I wasn't stressed and mother remained 'dry'.
A nice day out.
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