A lovely day.
Made a steak and mushroom pie.
Goofed.
Talked with mum about feelings. An understanding being reached. Even had my arms rubbed.
Had some branches blitzed by my friend the ever resourceful Mr Hairy. Thanks H.
Watched Olympics. Listened to Olympics.
Drank lots of tea.
Goofed.
Put my hair up, let my hair down. Baby.
Lipsticked up after Fig Roll.
Talked about muddled present and scary exciting unknown future
Goofed.
Secretly wondered about life. Pays to keep quiet.
Ran around, running back and forth. Mum keeping me busy with plasters and red berry squash.
Enjoyed sitting on back step with sun creasing my eyes.
Tea.
Goofed.
Told you it was lovely.....:)
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
A Horsehound Thought: Don't Faff About!
Have to do some tackling today.
First tackle? Getting to slippery grips with garden detritus. There's tons of the non-blooming stuff! Mostly old trees.
Not being one for worrying too much about appearances I've disregarded in a major manner the side garden and left to rot stumps and old branches from killed trees but now it's giving me the pip so action action...
Help though may be at hand in the shape of a big shouldered mate;)
Other tackles include cleaning the kitchen window, bedroom window and windows to my soul (my eyes aren't looking luscious on account of a 4:30 wake up shout) :(
So later on after I've gleamed the kitchen glass I'll wash my eyes out and smooth cooling cucumber in the dark craters under my eye sockets.
Yuk!
Still even great beauties like what I am have their orf days;)
Further tackles include dealing with mum's daily rages. Latest one aimed at the general medical profession... She'll have something to say to say tomorrow she said, when the district nurse turns up AND someone from the surgery. Oh dear. She wants to know why her ears are ringing and why her legs are wobbly.
Listening to her was both painful and funny.There she lies, stricken with just about everything and she's going on about 'rushing' in her ears and her inability to wash her own self.
If ever a woman was more determined to ignore the salient facts regarding her trio of cancers then it's my mummy.
More tackles.... pies and puddings:)
First tackle? Getting to slippery grips with garden detritus. There's tons of the non-blooming stuff! Mostly old trees.
Not being one for worrying too much about appearances I've disregarded in a major manner the side garden and left to rot stumps and old branches from killed trees but now it's giving me the pip so action action...
Help though may be at hand in the shape of a big shouldered mate;)
Other tackles include cleaning the kitchen window, bedroom window and windows to my soul (my eyes aren't looking luscious on account of a 4:30 wake up shout) :(
So later on after I've gleamed the kitchen glass I'll wash my eyes out and smooth cooling cucumber in the dark craters under my eye sockets.
Yuk!
Still even great beauties like what I am have their orf days;)
Further tackles include dealing with mum's daily rages. Latest one aimed at the general medical profession... She'll have something to say to say tomorrow she said, when the district nurse turns up AND someone from the surgery. Oh dear. She wants to know why her ears are ringing and why her legs are wobbly.
Listening to her was both painful and funny.There she lies, stricken with just about everything and she's going on about 'rushing' in her ears and her inability to wash her own self.
If ever a woman was more determined to ignore the salient facts regarding her trio of cancers then it's my mummy.
More tackles.... pies and puddings:)
Monday, 6 August 2012
Being cooked tonight:
Sausage and Apple casserole.... using lots of meaty pork and herb snorkers and chopped Bramleys. Also in the pot are several carrots, 2 onions, parsley, chives and a Cox's orange pippin then all generously seasoned. Just over half a pint of apple juice is then poured over. No stock.
To accompany I'm roasting a butternut squash, cubed and sweetened with brown sugar then zinged with the juice of a lemon. Salt pepper.
Baked potatoes, so no last minute fussing.
Pud is a red cherry trifle. Packet sponge topped with canned cherries, then covered with custard abd whipped cream. No decoration.
Also made today was Mrs Gordon's Boil and Bake Cake. A really simple fruit cake recipe, all made in one pan then plopped into 7 inch cake tin and baked slowly for 90 minutes. Lovely on its own but equally wicked buttered.
A plain white farmhouse loaf also got baked.
Watched some sport, my thrill bit was seeing Team GB take Gold in the Equestrian. Beautiful horses, great enthusiastic riders and Claire Balding commentating. She's a reasonably good egg is Claire, jolly hockey sticks and all that but knows her hooves from her fetlocks.
Sausage and Apple casserole.... using lots of meaty pork and herb snorkers and chopped Bramleys. Also in the pot are several carrots, 2 onions, parsley, chives and a Cox's orange pippin then all generously seasoned. Just over half a pint of apple juice is then poured over. No stock.
To accompany I'm roasting a butternut squash, cubed and sweetened with brown sugar then zinged with the juice of a lemon. Salt pepper.
Baked potatoes, so no last minute fussing.
Pud is a red cherry trifle. Packet sponge topped with canned cherries, then covered with custard abd whipped cream. No decoration.
Also made today was Mrs Gordon's Boil and Bake Cake. A really simple fruit cake recipe, all made in one pan then plopped into 7 inch cake tin and baked slowly for 90 minutes. Lovely on its own but equally wicked buttered.
A plain white farmhouse loaf also got baked.
Watched some sport, my thrill bit was seeing Team GB take Gold in the Equestrian. Beautiful horses, great enthusiastic riders and Claire Balding commentating. She's a reasonably good egg is Claire, jolly hockey sticks and all that but knows her hooves from her fetlocks.
The 5 a.m. call...updated
I responded, of course, as did Mr H and so as I was up I drove Mr H to station.
I like early morning roads, not much action, save a few daft middle-of-the-road-pigeons chancing their wings for middle- of- the- road- scraps.
There's a camaraderie between early risers, a slight smile, an isn't- is -awful -getting -up- at- dawn kind of look. Most look faded, comes from cornflake eating at 4:40 I expect, but they zombie their way to the platform to wait, with wide spaces between them, for the 6:08 to Liverpool Street.
"Are you going back to bed?" mum asked as I popped my face in
You have got to be joking now I'm up do you think I could possibly go to bed to sleep and all that that entails like rest and freedom I thought.
"No" I smiled leaving her to herself and her thoughts.
After penning this I'll listen to the Today programme whilst setting some bread dough to rise all the time hoping mother doesn't want to go shopping. Again. I very much doubt she will on account of her delicate digestive problems, so I'll be let out, for a short while anyway, to do the Post Office run.
Run?
Mmmmmmmm.
Mum too faint and glurky for a trip outside so out I went on my own. Nice sunny day too. But she was far too unsteady and out of sorts to be climbing in and out of her wheels so after much hand wringing, long meaningful looks and collapsing on doorsteps I told her I'd do the post office and co-op run.
Picked up bargains too, so with the extra cash, popped to charity shop wherein I bought a poppy decorated cannister, a beautiful red tartan travel rug and one acrylic angel which will be placed somewhere in the garden:)
I like early morning roads, not much action, save a few daft middle-of-the-road-pigeons chancing their wings for middle- of- the- road- scraps.
There's a camaraderie between early risers, a slight smile, an isn't- is -awful -getting -up- at- dawn kind of look. Most look faded, comes from cornflake eating at 4:40 I expect, but they zombie their way to the platform to wait, with wide spaces between them, for the 6:08 to Liverpool Street.
"Are you going back to bed?" mum asked as I popped my face in
You have got to be joking now I'm up do you think I could possibly go to bed to sleep and all that that entails like rest and freedom I thought.
"No" I smiled leaving her to herself and her thoughts.
After penning this I'll listen to the Today programme whilst setting some bread dough to rise all the time hoping mother doesn't want to go shopping. Again. I very much doubt she will on account of her delicate digestive problems, so I'll be let out, for a short while anyway, to do the Post Office run.
Run?
Mmmmmmmm.
Mum too faint and glurky for a trip outside so out I went on my own. Nice sunny day too. But she was far too unsteady and out of sorts to be climbing in and out of her wheels so after much hand wringing, long meaningful looks and collapsing on doorsteps I told her I'd do the post office and co-op run.
Picked up bargains too, so with the extra cash, popped to charity shop wherein I bought a poppy decorated cannister, a beautiful red tartan travel rug and one acrylic angel which will be placed somewhere in the garden:)
Sunday, 5 August 2012
GOLD BRITAIN!
This Olympics is the best I've ever seen.
Golds being won in my hometown (and a little further up the line). Two rowing Golds....
Last night it felt fantastic seeing Mo Farah breeze to Gold then, amidst a fleet of photographers, I smiled womanly stupidly as his little girl shot onto the track and jostled for daddy's attention as the glowing exhausted Olympian shone!
Jess Ennis won the hearts of the nation too. As did long jumping red head Greg Rutherford. A real showman. And why not. I too would ham it up if I'd succeeded in claiming top prize. Heptathlete Jessica was cool, so cool, until she blitzed past the line then all glory let loose.
I never thought I'd see us, team GB, win three gold medals in an unforgettable incredible 60 minutes!
And today as I go about my never ending, back breaking, knee swelling business I'll watch Murray take on Federer for....another Gold?
Come on Andy...... take away my ills and make my Sunday:)
P.S.
To celebrate I'm roasting some English beef :)
Friday, 3 August 2012
Weird
..........Is the only word.
Last night Mr H and myself were visiting friends and after pud I suddenly jerked feeling the need to get home pretty damn quick.
And our evening was going so well too which made MY exit even more poignant and so with all concerned giving approval my mate drove me home where we found mum lying on the bathroom floor.
Did something supernatural occur? Was mum able to shoot her feelings along and up the road to where her daughter was? Or was I so concerned about her falling over again that I couldn't relax, not even with people I like?
The latter.
Woke this morning feeling as if the world, well my tiny portion of it, was falling to bits. But after a quick fleeting exchange of words mum and me thought it best if we stay in today. In the confines of the bungaloid. Me doing essentials, like ironing, laundry, re-arranging front room furniture, kitchen knick- knacks and making bread...
Essentials?
You betcha.
Because if I don't see some kind of beautiful order I'll go BANG!
She will read the magazines I've just bought...Woman & Home, Good Housekeeping.
Ironic ain't it?
Plush lush mags amidst chaos.
Last night Mr H and myself were visiting friends and after pud I suddenly jerked feeling the need to get home pretty damn quick.
And our evening was going so well too which made MY exit even more poignant and so with all concerned giving approval my mate drove me home where we found mum lying on the bathroom floor.
Did something supernatural occur? Was mum able to shoot her feelings along and up the road to where her daughter was? Or was I so concerned about her falling over again that I couldn't relax, not even with people I like?
The latter.
Woke this morning feeling as if the world, well my tiny portion of it, was falling to bits. But after a quick fleeting exchange of words mum and me thought it best if we stay in today. In the confines of the bungaloid. Me doing essentials, like ironing, laundry, re-arranging front room furniture, kitchen knick- knacks and making bread...
Essentials?
You betcha.
Because if I don't see some kind of beautiful order I'll go BANG!
She will read the magazines I've just bought...Woman & Home, Good Housekeeping.
Ironic ain't it?
Plush lush mags amidst chaos.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
Delivered a quiet mum to Joan's charity shop where I wheeled her around looking for that must-have item.
After browsing sleepily through a hill of books we brushed our fingers across the blouse and t-shirt rails, managing to find a pretty rose pink jumper. Not my cup of tea but it'll look fine on mum.
Then a flick through the bric-a-brac where I found a stout well made navy blue mug, 50p and an ovenproof baking dish with two segments...(carrots and sweet potato sprung to mind) £1. Mum wasn't looking particularly interested in the mishmash of eclectic ornaments and kitchen ware so we went over to Men's Wear.
And if ever a man ever needed something fresh and of the 21st century Mr Horsehound does. So I waded slowly through a forest of old macs and coats eventually halting at a decent Marks and Spencer anorak. Excellent cond. Great masculine colour, teal blue, good lining and numerous pockets without holes. Yes at £3 a real fair buy:)
We paid Tim the boy manning the till and left with a wave to Jean the bare legged (winter and summer) manageress. Out into squally weather where in a moments I'd be held in the warmth of George's Fish Fryery Place.
I didn't mind waiting for my roe to be cooked, gave me some me time. So I thought about today and tomorrow and the future, but after a few moments decided it'd be more sensible to think only of today. So with a fat hot package held to my sticky - outy zonkies (must remember NOT to slouch and to keep my excellent posture till I'm old, I left Georges and once again sat next to a silent mum and drove all the way home.
Oh dear.
I was pleased with the way the morning was panning out, mum as usual saying very little but keen to watch the sport and eat her cod in the kitchen with me and Monty. So we did. Monty was dropped fish, I sat awkwardly on the edge of the chair eating good roe and mum was armchair sat surrounded by paper kitchen towels and vinegar.
We ate in silence save for the the commentator screaming as our rowing lads battled it out against the blasted Germans, it was great telly and the tea tasted sweet and Monty played football with his fish then mum got sick and it all went mucky and pear shaped.
To hear and see her convulsing and heaving with her little purple clutch bag dropping to the floor and the translucent skin of her shoulders being stretched kind of put me into Mother Teresa mode. I couldn't be angry or feel anything other than pity and tenderness towards this small woman who wasn't in control of anything. Not even her chips.
Her face contorted, eyes watering and with her pink blouse stained I pulled off her clothes and carried her to the front room.
"I'm sorry Ang"
She didn't have to say anything, it was my pleasure, funny word to use when you're mopping up vomit but it was mum's so I didn't mind.
After a nice cup of refreshing tea I put her in her nightie and got her settled for the afternoon. She's asleep now and I'm baking a cake. And funnily enough I'm feeling absolutely fine.
After browsing sleepily through a hill of books we brushed our fingers across the blouse and t-shirt rails, managing to find a pretty rose pink jumper. Not my cup of tea but it'll look fine on mum.
Then a flick through the bric-a-brac where I found a stout well made navy blue mug, 50p and an ovenproof baking dish with two segments...(carrots and sweet potato sprung to mind) £1. Mum wasn't looking particularly interested in the mishmash of eclectic ornaments and kitchen ware so we went over to Men's Wear.
And if ever a man ever needed something fresh and of the 21st century Mr Horsehound does. So I waded slowly through a forest of old macs and coats eventually halting at a decent Marks and Spencer anorak. Excellent cond. Great masculine colour, teal blue, good lining and numerous pockets without holes. Yes at £3 a real fair buy:)
We paid Tim the boy manning the till and left with a wave to Jean the bare legged (winter and summer) manageress. Out into squally weather where in a moments I'd be held in the warmth of George's Fish Fryery Place.
I didn't mind waiting for my roe to be cooked, gave me some me time. So I thought about today and tomorrow and the future, but after a few moments decided it'd be more sensible to think only of today. So with a fat hot package held to my sticky - outy zonkies (must remember NOT to slouch and to keep my excellent posture till I'm old, I left Georges and once again sat next to a silent mum and drove all the way home.
Oh dear.
I was pleased with the way the morning was panning out, mum as usual saying very little but keen to watch the sport and eat her cod in the kitchen with me and Monty. So we did. Monty was dropped fish, I sat awkwardly on the edge of the chair eating good roe and mum was armchair sat surrounded by paper kitchen towels and vinegar.
We ate in silence save for the the commentator screaming as our rowing lads battled it out against the blasted Germans, it was great telly and the tea tasted sweet and Monty played football with his fish then mum got sick and it all went mucky and pear shaped.
To hear and see her convulsing and heaving with her little purple clutch bag dropping to the floor and the translucent skin of her shoulders being stretched kind of put me into Mother Teresa mode. I couldn't be angry or feel anything other than pity and tenderness towards this small woman who wasn't in control of anything. Not even her chips.
Her face contorted, eyes watering and with her pink blouse stained I pulled off her clothes and carried her to the front room.
"I'm sorry Ang"
She didn't have to say anything, it was my pleasure, funny word to use when you're mopping up vomit but it was mum's so I didn't mind.
After a nice cup of refreshing tea I put her in her nightie and got her settled for the afternoon. She's asleep now and I'm baking a cake. And funnily enough I'm feeling absolutely fine.
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