Hello my name is Tango...

And I was born in a zoo in London but that's alright because I have sooooo many mummies and daddies (partly-haired) who will take care of me and my barnet.

When I get older though my hair will go really black like my real daddy's hair... then I will be just another old gorilla:(

Thank you:)

Love
Tango x

Hot and Sticky

I am making a cake.
On this furnace of a day.
Sun almighty and me in me shorts.

...............A Honey and Spice cake is baking as I write this. The aroma of ginger, cinnamon and ground cloves is making me feel a little high. So warm and pungent are they. So poetic...so dreamy....spices having that effect on me. Whenever I do spices I trip a bit.

To add gentle sweetness, honey is used, and to give the Delia Smith recipe some oooomph, and so it's not all hot and spicy, a great deal of grated lemon and orange rind is added. Along with lots of candied mixed peel. Grating rind drives me bananas because I've yet to find a decent hardworking little grater that does the job expertly and preferably doesn't remove finger skin. lol. The only grater I have is knackered and is apt to rip my wrists with it's bentness. So whenever I need zest I pull out my indestructible Sabatier paring knife and painstakingly slice and dice:)

This cake is from Delias cake book, can't remember the year, it's also in her original recipe book which I've had for over twenty five years. In it she recommends this cake if one is going out for the day...On a picnic don't you know, and it did indeed accompany me and Mr Horshound on a trip to Harlaxton back in the eighties, don't think we've been on a picnic since!
At any rate Delia was right, it is a thick moist robust cake which tolerates car travel very well.

Her original recipe called for a simple lemon icing but when I checked her online club (of which I'm a member) she now tops the simple icing with chopped stem ginger. Now not so simple...
Would definitely like to try this but for the moment I'm going to decorate with a lemony icing mixed with a spoonful of Ginger conserve. (My invention) The Stem stuff will come later.

Ok m'dears the timer has just pinged............

What a lovely day it is:)

Hooray for Hollywood and Jo

Jo

Paul and Mary

I was in a lather last night on account of The Great British Bake Off.

Fragrant former ad girl Holly gave me the pip with her sugar coated bitchiness...the blank faced perfect Mother of Two 'joked' about wishing the other bakers dead. No. Didn't like that. Not a bit. From day one I've been gunning for the cosmetic-free toffee-nosed madam, and last night she really got my blood up. I get the impression that beneath the weak smiles and head hanging to one side malarky she's planning world domination or at least has her eye on a book deal.

So my Bake Off could have been a Right Off if it hadn't been for the fantastically likeable Essex girl, Jo. With her slightly whiny voice, delicious smile, ample hips and imperfect teeth she's my idea of a woman I'd like as a neighbour. When praised by Paul or Mary she looks genuinely stunned. Me? I can't believe it. I can't believe my Danish Pastries were better than everyone elses. Humility is alive and well and residing in the heart of Jo. I hope, at the end of the day John, that she snatches the Chefs Hat...

The other contestant who doesn't bring out either love or loathing in me is the formidable but warm Mary-Ann. A bigger girl with so much skill it's enough to make me vomit over me dainties, she is not in love with herself and takes on all tasks with vigour and sweats a lot on the way. I like her, and if Jo doesn't win I hope Mary-Ann does.

I do love this programme, everything about it is what I think a cool cook show should be ...Informative but not dour, great presenters, the adorable Mel and Sue are just fab, especially like Sue's glasses and most of all, a great cook prog should make the lazy tripehounds who are sitting at home salivating get up and get cooking. Does it for me dears...

You all know how much I respect and like Mary Berry, she has taught me all I'll ever need to know but master baker Paul Hollywood is just too handsome to go anywhere near a kitchen...except MINE of course. He is welcome to ice my fancies any time he's in the neighbourhood. Tall, chunky, a face to faint over and cooks as well. Oh come on...Is this guy for real?


Anywaaaay, I love them all, and can't wait for the final when, if there's any justice, Holly will fail to rise and Jo will be iced Queen Of Bakers.


An aside...After a quick trundling of my trolley through the aisles of Sainsbury's I squatted on my rear stoop and conversated with me 'erbs whilst chomping on a very sugary YumYum (shop bought).

A bit of my day

Like this but two of 'em

I'm sure he's a lovely man

Me in my 'Alex' same sun, same shades, different day!

As a food fanatic I love it when, on a hot afternoon in September, I find a recipe gem.
This new recipe, which has me cavorting around the drawing room is called Basque Chicken Pie and it's in one of my latest cookery books, Hamlyn's Best of Baking....
Anyway readers, if the colourful pic is anything to go by we're in for a treat. Unlike 'ordinary' pies, which have 'ordinary' pastry shells, this beauty is made using bread dough so the excitement mounts...
Its filling is rich with cooked sliced chicken, chunks of ham, red and green peppers, fresh tomatoes and garlic. Not sure what I'll serve it with, some kind of green vegetable probably, but not sprouts.
I have a feeling in my bones that this exotic sounding pie will taste luscious served cold with warm garlic bread and greenish salad. I can't wait to get on it.


What else...Oh yes... Mr Miliband stating in his conference speech (which tv viewers had the misfortune to miss part of due to something going down or something) but radio listeners got it all, copping the full whack, anyway what I saw and heard was so familiar..."I'm not Tony Blair, I'm not Gordon Brown, I'm my own man" warbled the Wallace lookeylikey.
Well take me out and thrash me with a red flag if I haven't heard this kind of clap trap before. Admittedly Mr Miliband is newish to the game, but compared to Tone his style was colourless and lacked fizz..and compared to Kinnock's oratory skills, Miliband was a non-starter. Sorry Ed.
An after thought.....I'm being cruel and that's not me, his speech was good, possibly his best. That's enough kindness.

By the way Lisa, came today to do my hair, you remember Lisa she's overly tanned and doesn't charge much (pensioner specials?) She came and before I could say short back and sides she'd Pixiefied me. I adore the way she transforms me. But while she was shaving my neck she confided in me about her latest lodger...apparently he's brought a fish tank with him.

Other news...Went back today for part two of my job interview, and as usual I took a wrong turning, not much of a wrong turning but wiggly enough to demand information from a couple of workman..."I'm looking for the **** joint, I fear I've missed my turning" I said, pulling my sunglasses down. "Oh yes it's the next turning" said the old bloke laughing his overalls off, the younger one, the grungier one, just looked scared.
And so with a wave of my hand and a "Tallyho" I sped off.
It went well did the interview, so now I wait... again...

I'm in a flap over many things, jobs, boys, mothers and my knees but all in all my feathers are looking gooood and I'm certain things can only get better....

Keep Going

After a slow walk to Queensway shops (many health related stops) I asked very nicely if a gold wedding ring had been handed in. No. no, no.

Mum went out yesterday morning and believes she 'misplaced' it whilst digging deep in her purse for cash...I've told her repeatedly NOT to keep the ring amongst the coins but she insisted it was 'safe'
Now the olden gold ring has gone.
Mum was greying over with sadness.

Anyway....After all the negatives she went a little bleary eyed obviously but grasped my arm defiantly and offered to buy me a fish lunch. Once seated in the blue and white tiled fish shop with its modern artwork above the yummy mirrors we chatted... mostly about dad of course. She kept asking if I'd seen or heard from him but I thought Mr Fishy on Porchester Road was not the best place in which to discuss heaven and stuff and she bought it. ...She maintained silence for ten minutes then we spoke about men and Ed Balls.

A lovely youngish girl then delivered our Fat Roe, chips, bread, onions, iced cola (mum's) and cream topped hot chocolate (mine) then the poor lamb, much to the chagrin of Mother, giggled about fish eggs and stuff. Mother was not amused:( And it showed...

The skinny waitress looked puzzled so wished us a happy eating experience or something and sped off back to the fryer. It's funny how squeamish she is..that's mum....anything to do with internals and she throws up, silly mare... Me I don't mind.... innards of animals I'll eat it all:) Goes for human innards too, I wouldn't eat a persons organs of course but I'm not in the least fazed by any human bits red or wrinkly dead or alive:)

Mum paid up silently, while I smiled at the waitress, knowing that this slip of a thing had no idea the hell the old lady was currently residing in. I tipped her large...

Back to hers for good strong tea and a back massage, Mum's not mine! As she got dressed I looked around and hated the empty chairs, felt sombre as I spotted his glasses case stuffed down the armchair and felt weepy at the sight of the small brown horse ornament on his desk....(I bought it for him yonks ago) anyway.....I made a womanly tired promise to myself and him that I'll do my best to make things right again, to make sure mum gets to all her blasted appointments and that I'll loiter like the dutiful well trained daughter I still am in Corals making certain I get the best price for my fav gee gee in the Prix de l'Arc de Triomphe...Sunday 2nd October... Can last year's winner Workforce do it again or will Reliable Man get his wet nose in front......X



Whadya reckon darling?
:)

Sun. Coooool!.
Can here mowers already. The brightness as I look out of my window is lovely. So warm and lovely is it that I've kicked off my slippers and feel like waxing. Lyrical.

Mowing. (Lots of Laughter)..
Mine will be groaning later on. Not too much will be shaved orf just enough to make my frontage respectable.

Traditional Roast Beef Lunch. Yum.
Fair sized piece of Brisket roasted in melted lard then, when the time is right, a few knobbly par-boiled spuds will be added to the spitting fat. To soothe and take away the guilt of indulging in extreme animal fat I'll steam a little Sweetheart Cabbage. To soak up the gravy and mustard a crisp bulbous Yorkshire Pudding. And for pud an apple crumble.

But most exciting of all...
The Labour Party Conference begins today in Liverpool. Kicks off around 2p.m. with a Hiya from Leader of Liverpool Council, Joe Anderson.
Should be worth a watch. Ken Livingston will be putting his two penn'orth in aswell. Boo.

Tomorrow Harriet Harmon will bleat on in a debate called Britain in the World...Think I'll give the ghastly Harry a miss. Although I do have one thing to thank her for...A dopey recipe for Mince embalmed in a nice Crusty Loaf. Amazing what one finds in retro recipe books.

And then Tuesday.... everything on standby.... . My Leader's speech kicks off at 3. Holy HUSH in the bungalow when the Man in Debt to the Unions makes his Conference speech.
Should be worth a tea break or two mate.



Now I must fly........................:)

A corker

I walked with a bounce today not just because the sun shone but because I had something in my heart that money can't buy...Hope. Hope that things/life is on the up.
And so I strolled with an excellent handbag in the crook of my elbow allowing myself the luxury of letting go.
And all my regular readers will know what that means...

1. Carrying mum not only emotionally but sometimes physically as well...I put those dreadful months in the cupboard inside my chokka block head. They're heavy but tucked away.

2. Financial nightmares... not only in the dark wee small hours but during the day when watching films, and, however good the movie, the penny pound gremlins ate at my flesh...But today I kicked back.... A job could be shooting my way...

3. Dad's departure. The worst thing I've ever seen or felt. I don't expect he was pleased either. But he couldn't see us, me and mum that is, he couldn't see what his shuffling away did. For the past 56 years or so he'd done his bit and on that warm July night with a pulsating, rough skinned throat he went away.
I miss him... especially now, as I have some good stuff to talk about. Forever and ever I've yakked to him about everything, from boys to men, from pennies to pounds, from despair to elation...And he always had points to make, some I fought him over but mostly my in-house Solomon was right on the money mate.
Fuck death.


Anyway mateys today I flew from a to b then back to a, no car to carry me, it being in for an MOT. So bussing it with a team of old dears I hopped a ride to Hockley.
The sun was out that's for sure, because there was a positive infestation of buggy pushers, idling chatty workmen, crippled male warriors with bad hands and bronzed women in pink polyester tops with bare arms.

In my first shop I bought a pair of 'sapphire and diamond' ear rings for 50p. Keeping with the pair thing, I bagged a pair of cracking M&S jeans in faded black. £2. I was soooo happy.
Then I popped to the Co-Op for a red pepper and Sweetheart cabbage. The cashier reminded me of a young Margaret Thatcher and the jolly woman in a lemon ensemble behind me told me she had ' a full house for the weekend' ....I suppose that's why her trolley was bending under the weight of cola, toilet tissue and 'reduced' sausage rolls. She had crooked mauve lipped smile. 80 if a day.

Ok.
So far so excellent.
Then came the scary bit. Into the post office for a set of pics, I went in looking like an English Rose or so I thought but when handed the pics I told 'Jack' his camera must have a colour malfunction..I looked like I'd been dipped in creosote.
Still we had a chuckle Jack the Postmaster and I, him saying I had lovely eyes and would I like another bag of Mintoes ( a favourite of mine).
I declined because I'd got what I wanted so left him chattering on like a parrot about Indian summers... he should know.

Back on the bus with old dolls-a plenty, I twiddled with my new ear rings. Imagining them glinting in candlelight or being tugged at by a rough lover.
Dream over I alighted near a pub....
I felt rather pleased with myself and so having a few bob left I ditched the idea of beans on toast and tea and decided instead to have a pint of wallop and bag of crisps.
I would never have done that before but I felt enthused and happy on account of the weather and Hope....

So today has been a dream, didn't do much at all really, nothing I don't usually do.. the alcohol stop being the exception of course...., but I felt optimistic, feeling as if things are changing for the better..
And oh my giddy aunt did that beer taste good upon my upturned English Rose lips...

If I could have one, no let's be greedy, let's ask for two, if I could have two wishes they'd be more days like today and, well, I think you know the other;)