Ta Ta 2013 and HELLO 2014!

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

:)





 

 

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..............................

..........she loves him
when he's asleep
for he sees her
she loves him when he's awake
for she sees him

seeing is loving
is all

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... 

 
 

 


 

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!

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

...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.

 

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.