Good Morning All...

If only I could spend ALL day blogging but I can't because.......I'm having a mum/daughter morning at home....., not in shops, cafes, GP surgery or libraries.... like yesterday....Oh Boy Yesterday what a day. Two doc trips. One regular, the other urgent. Dialysis being mentioned...How much more can she/we take. Quite a bit I should think seeing as we're quite resilient.
Anyway.....
I'm celebrating another year of life today (28.6.56) and I thought it'd be right and proper to chatter away with Mother over an early morning cuppa BEFORE donning one of my finest frocks and doing luncheon in a pub.
Talking of alcohol..I resisted the urge to splat a drop of Pimms in me Typhoo thinking it might not be good manners to appear sloshed when Mr Hairy turns up. 
I DO have some manners. 
But that's later on, further along in the journey of life, at the mo, all I'm thinking about are having a good time today (Murray on Centre Court and a possible Coq au Vin in Stambridge) I won't allow Ma's kidneys to ruin my birthday:)



Thank you for all my birthday cards, especially the Nofs and Parky.

Mum and her brat carer circa 1960/1 West London.
Click on pic for a good close-up

View from our window. Beautiful organized vineyards and available to us to roam around, by courtesy of the owners of course.

Our neighbours. Well behaved and very friendly. The cock though made his presence felt, especially in the morning.

Our cottage is on the left. Peaceful. Idyllic.  A writer's dreamhouse.

A waterfall in Colchester.

Shrubs. Clouds and clouds of them.

Goldfish. Being sketched by an artist nearby. I just looked on.

Our breakaway to nearby Mersea was wonderful. Proved we didn't have to travel far to have fun and relaxation. Weather was good. Owners of vineyard were friendly and their dog, Rusty, had a lot of energy for a mutt with arthritis. He loved playing football with me, the great big slobbering thing.
Their cat, Pip sauntered around like cats do, even slipping his graceful body down on the dining chair as we were cooking dinner. Steak WAS to his liking.

Mum enjoyed her days as did Mr Hairy and I. We're definitely going again!

We're all going on a Summer Holiday
no doctors for a day or three
sun, pills, wheelchair on a Summer Holiday
will make my dream come true oooh ooh oooh ooh
for me and you.....and mother!

Yes the Great Carer Getaway has begun. Mother just finishing orf her tea, Hairy snoozing after his late shift and myself ready since dawn!
Before the three of us jet off to Mersea Island in Hairy's Micra I'll take mother to the post office to see Mr Wickramasinghe then stroll down to the church shop for last minute blouse buying. Mother though is being considerate asking constantly whether I'll manage the half mile track seeing as Mr Horsehound has the car today and all this week. Yes of course I'll cope I said putting on sensible sandals, I need the exercise anyway. She bought it.... The thought though of pushing mum up and down the long hilly road is, I must admit, weighing heavily, but I'll do it with the knowledge that by the time we return Hairy will have had a little sleep and lunch will be ready before we embark on yet another adventure!

We waited and waited, Mother and I, for the all too dismal clouds to puff away, but they didn't...well not until very late this afternoon when suddenly a scratch of blue sky emerged from behind the dumpy grey clouds meaning that possibly play might get under way in the Men's Final at Queens.

A match we'd been looking forward to between Scot Andy Murray and Croat Marin Cilic. Right from the off my heart belonged to the two meter high Cilic. The man who, last year won Queens by default after Nalbandian kicked up rough and was consequently dismissed by the umpire. Cilic took the cup.

This year, this afternoon, Marin started off well but Murray soon got the better of him and so the quiet young giant was left holding the second place rosette.

It's Eastbourne next week then Wimbledon... I fear more badly constructed posts about Murray are on the way:)

Other News.....
Mother and I watched Denzel Washington in his newest movie.."FLIGHT". (DVD from Morrisons....)An alcoholic drug using pilot turns his loaded damaged aircraft upside down lands it in a field and in so doing saves most of his passengers, Hero or what?
Hero of course. But then investigations, questions and wonderings begin till one dark day Whip gets sent to a tribunal where he..................
Won't spoil the end for you. If you get the chance to see this cracking film take it. Denzel never fails to please.

Made a gorgeous Hazelnut cake yesterday and today, a Malt Loaf.
It's a substitute you know.
Now I must retire to my room on account of having a few last minute preps to do before I set off on a little holiday with my good friend Hairy Suit........... and Mother.

I can't write much I've eaten too many Gingernuts

Just when I thought I couldn't dislike Murray any more he goes and does something completely rotten and beyond belief.
Tennis fans will know that this week at Queens the weather has been lousy, only occasionally has Mr Sunlight put his cap on. So it came as a great big stinking surprise this afternoon that after many rain delays play got under way...Murray was on with Mahut the Frenchman who beat him here last year...Then a teaspoonful of droplets fell and Murray bleated to the weak-willed umpire that the grass was too slippery. Utter tosh. Matches were continuing on the other court but Murray took it upon himself to call a halt to the much anticipated match against the man who  knocked him out last year...

I know very little about the ins and outs of tennis what I do know however is that some players are more professional than others. Mahut never made a sound, he seemed to me to be quite willing to slip and slide a little just like Berdych and Bakker (Berdych winning nicely) and trusty Aussie Hewitt as he beat up likeable Bulgarian, Dimitrov. All these fine youngish men played without tears and tantrums but not Drama Queen Murray. (Drama Queen, the epithet given to Murray by Wimbledon champion Virginia Wade). He wanted the match stopped and it was. The image of an indecisive umpire, referee and tournament manager all gathered around the throne of prince Andrew was an embarrassment.
And when the officials gave in Murray the Moaner trudged off smirking.

I had a very thick Pork Chop for my tea, only trouble was it was so thick and tasty I barely had room for canned mandarins and custard.

After yesterday's events I'm staying put. In the front room actually with Monty, Mother and the final at Roland Garros. Nadal surely putting his compatriot in his place. The diminutive Ferrer (see below) though might have other more lofty ideas. But whatever the result I'm going to enjoy it.

No cooking today. The bacon joint will remain wrapped as we snack on cheese and ham and mackerel, salad crackers and walnut cake. Even great cooks need a day orf.

So after watching a vintage Columbo ITV1 (soon) I'll prepare a tray of nibbles to indulge in whilst Rafa plays David. Feel better just writing about it!

Not much to write about...

After a near calamitous trek into Southend (going down a one way street) to buy theatre tickets mum said if she'd known that I'd have to pay for the tickets she wouldn't have agreed to go...!

From that moment on I was spitting feathers.

I'd picked up a leaflet in the library you see and the play 'House Guest' by Francis Durbridge at the Dixon theatre in Westcliffe looked ideal for Mum so I told her about it and she said ok.

 Her unsmiling venomous outburst in the car was, I'm sure, purely a case of misunderstanding, I'm sure she assumed that because we came across the information in the library somehow made it 'free'. Whatever her thinking it ruined my morning.

I haven't eaten. Again. And later on as I hoovered I  came close to throwing in not only the vacuum cleaner but the towel aswell.
I'm pooped.

Now as American Serena Williams battles with Maria Sharapova in the Ladies Final at Roland Garros I will make some Peshwari Naans to go with my curried sausages.
I hope the Russian wins.

Quick Thoughts Over Porridge

Hoping mum's eye clinic appointment this morning goes smoothly because we want to get back in time for Nadal v. Djokovic. Semi Final Roland Garros.The match all tennis lovers are drooling over.
Rafa said he gets his energy from the sun. Hmmm. Temps today on court will hit 80f  so if Sun Boy is right Novak will get burnt.

I'm feeling sporty so have plumped for jeans and t-shirt and rose quartz necklace. Rafa seems to approve!

Dinner tonight, if I get a chance, will be chicken pasta bake. Because.....Playing second fiddle to to Rafa and Novak are Tsonga and Ferrer. The other semi final. Poor Jo-Wilfred, all hopes are pinned on the funny Frenchman, the French not having won Garros for over thirty years. No pressure there then. Meanwhile all Spanish eyes will be on David Ferrer the other player from Spain. Imagine that. Rafa and David in the final. In that case Dave, better luck next year:)

Now I must freshen up, strap mother in the car and don my biggest sunglasses :)

It's going to be a good day today.

Me hustling...

Set up the pins and I'll (attempt to) knock them over.

Mr Horsehound, Mr and Mrs Hairy Suit with a young energetic mini Hairy Suit (just 12) and moi racked up a few strikes in the lanes. With much musical accompaniment I and mini Hairy Suit cut a rug........

After doing it we all played with smaller balls and a man sitting at the bar obviously six sheets to the wind laughed loudly when I tactically altered the dynamics of the game (cheated).

We left him propping up the bar and de-camped to a nearby gastric boozer ( for my American readers a gastro pub is a bar that also serves food)

It was choc a bloc with the fine (?) folk of Essex all doing what they do well..supping and yammering.

After quite a wait for our food we finally tucked in to: Bean Tortillas, hamburgers, gammon steak and milk. (mine)
No time for pud on account of having to be back in barracks by 20:00 hours.
Mother doesn't much approve of social lives.

Anyway what little time I had away was blissful.

Thoughts on a Gorgeous Summery Day

I'm roasting a large chicken and England take on Brazil later on tonight in Brazil.
If Roy's Boys display what they displayed this week against the Irish republic he and the lads are in for an almighty kicking.
I fear for Hodgo. Therefore I fear for England. I'm just full of fear:(

Here are more fear filled dates.

6. September. England v. MOLDOVA
10. September. England v. UKRAINE
11.October. England v. MONTENEGRO
and finally
15. October England v. POLAND.......



My hair needs a-doing.

Tennis from Roland Garros this week has been sumptuous even when overhead steel grey clouds hovered. But it's nice there today, dazzlingly sunny with many fine matches to watch. Already seen Ferrer and now as I type I can hear Serena Williams beating up some Italian girl. I'm hoping for an Italian win but Ms Williams is in strong form.

For pud today a flan I baked yesterday. Dutch Apple Flan made with a giant Bramley, Greek yoghurt and scented with cinnamon and vanilla .

Mother has been up and down. Both bodily and emotionally. I loaded her into the bath this morning but she shrieked with panic so I hugged her out of the warm rose scented water, drying her till she calmed down.

I made a dozen miniature jam tarts yesterday, bite-sized cuties filled with apricot and raspberry jam. I'm opting for simpler baking now, back to the traditional friendly trusted fayre.

A chicken pudding I steamed recently, exploded.