Admissions

My hair is as short as my temper.

My garden is a sad mess.

I'm not (a) Superwoman (b) Saintly (c) Made of plastic

I am (a) Regular woman packed full of horrible hormones (b)  My demon horns though miniature, make a life packed with responsibility, more colourful, bearable (c) Floods of blood surge through my veins resulting in a flushed face and bang bang heart. A nurse asked whether I'd like to have my B.P taken. No I said it'd only be something else to worry about.

Bertie the Campervan had his first proper outing yesterday. Mr Hairy Suit taking his little boy on a Man's away-day to a countryside venue wherein they played games and ate sausages.
I'll be inspecting Bertie's innards later today just to make sure there aren't any frogs or beer cans  lurking under the comfy seats.

I borrowed some library books this morning. All cookery. All dealing with baked goods. Baking to me is like prayer. Essential.

Talking of which.......I made a Blackberry and Apple Crumble yesterday. Apples from shop, blackberries from garden, cleaned and put into individual white pots then covered with oaty crumble and BAKED till bubbles of burst blackberry peeped through buttery crumble.
I prayed last night too. Let me sleep I said. 



I pushed hard on the wheelchair this morning as mum and me did the Rochford run. Lashings of rain not aiding my effort. 
As I numbed my way first around the library then three charity shops I wondered foolishly how many more trips we'd be making. A baker's dozen, twenty dozen or a decade's worth. It put me off my stride. Tripping, but not falling...
I have to admit I'm depressed. 
A word I don't use lightly. 
Depressed or low in spirits because I feel stifled by demands. Mum and me get on. We talk over tea comparing bags and wishes. My bags are bigger, her wishes unattainable. It's got to the stage where instead of opening up I've shut down. Verbally at least. My kitchen and conservatory are havens to me, and whereas before I left the doors open, the doors are now shut. A physical, albeit silly sign, that this is my sanctuary. Keep Out.

My good friend Mr Hairy Suit is kindness in a pair of jeans, and I'm gentle with him too. Mr Horsehound is the gentlest wisest man on earth, a body well fed and a mind so steeped in knowledge it's like sleeping with an encyclopaedia !

My skin looks good, rosy and shiny, manners impeccable and digestion second to none. All in all a physical marvel. 57 going on 37.

Mother tuts.

And Mother sleeps. And I am forever picking up her rubbish. When mum goes home, I don't ever want to see another screwed and tossed tissue.

Admissions Over.



 

Bertie the campervan is being given the once over by Micky, a man well skilled in rejuvenating older vehicle's innards.
We're not sure how long Bertie will be away, we're hoping it's not too long.
Just before he went in for his mechanic type overhaul I gave him a yellow themed make-over in the soft furnishing dept;
I'd been lucky enough to pick up a pair of over sized lemon coloured curtains for £6 in one of my charity shops, and after much cutting and laborious stitching they were hung up behind the passenger and driver's seat making a nice comfortable area for eating and drinking in the main body of the van. I've not described that very well so as soon as Bertie's back on the driveway I'll snap him and post a pic herein.

On the subject of privacy and drapes I bought two lovely pieces of embroidered net (£5) for the back door windows, which will of course need to be pulled way back when driving. Also more lengths of sweet net (stuff I already had) hangs on Bertie's side windows..... with all this lace hanging about you'd be right in thinking Bertie might be going soft, he isn't. I've listened to him and accepted that for all his rough masculinity and dents he isn't afraid to show his feminine side.
God bless you darling Bertie.
By the way the other day I nearly cracked my skull when cleaning his interior.

Anyway, Bertie is coming along and we're hoping, that after being in Micky's greasy hands, Bertie will be carting us orf somewhere idyllic. Probably Thaxted.

When I've not been working on Bert I've been hauling Mother around town, cooking lots of lovely nosh and generally being a loving if exhausted housewife/friend/daughter.
I take my relationships seriously so have been propping up Mr Horsehound when he finishes his night shifts, being very supportive to Mr Hairy Suit (his homelife bearing an uncanny resemblance to an episode of 'Enders) and aiding and abetting Mother as she fights Westminster City Council.
Life here in the Bungalow can be tiring but never dull.





Being cooked today..

Chicken and Vegetable Pasta Bake
Sweetcorn

         *
Bread and Butter Pudding


Being watched today...

Queen Victoria's Children (recorded)

 

Good and Honest........

.........Are Bertie and tonight's tea.

Bertie is being pampered. 
A little something here, a lot of something over there. And he's coming round nicely. Several bags of bits and bobs lounge in the garage waiting to be utilised. But Bertie can't be rushed. He's middle aged and looks it. 
As I write Mr Hairy Suit is doing the rounds, dealing with engineering type blokes and jolly good mates who know a thing or two about engines and bodywork. I, of course don't know anything that's why I'm indoors cooking.......

Sausage Saxony.

Take 500g of your favourite sausages fry them until well browned then pop them into a casserole dish.
Then fry a couple of slices of bacon chopped and trimmed of fat along with two sliced onions. Cook till brown.
Add these to the snorkers.
Pour over a can of Oxtail soup, a snowfall of mixed herbs (I used fresh parsley, dried basil, oregano, thyme and sage) lots of black pepper and a dusting of salt.
I added two chopped mushrooms too.
Lid it and braise for an hour or so. Nothing drastic will occur if left longer.
I think snorkers are best served with a dainty pile of creamy mash (butter and full fat milk a must) and a simple green veg like sprouts or green beans.

And to satisfy my sweet tooth...For pudding....Queen of Puddings.
Two slices of white bread blitzed to crumbs then put into a baking dish.
One egg yolk and one whole egg mixed with vanilla essence or extract, two tablespoons of sugar and half a pint of full fat milk. Blend thoroughly and strain over the breadcrumbs. Leave to soak for an hour.
Then bake in a bain marie till firm and set and slightly brown.

Remove from oven spread with warmed red jam and top with meringue. Made with one egg white and 50g sugar. Spread over custard, peak it and bake till tinged and set.
A light and lovely dessert.
Purse friendly too. 
In fact the whole meal, although good enough for a Lord, costs very little to make.

Now I must fly...
Tea and a nice slice of buttered tea bread calls.

A New Arrival

Big and bursting with energy Bertie the Campervan arrived. Escorted by a large Yorkshireman wearing an grey tee shirt. "Thanks love" he said as he supped his much wanted tea from a rose patterned china mug.
"My pleasure" I said as Mr Hairy stuck his head in amongst the engines bits.

I'd been up and bustling about since half past early waiting for the old fella to shuffle up me driveway. And there he was. A decent looking fella for his age.


Back track....
Just before 7:30 Mr Hairy Suit turned up dashing along the path. He was like an expectant father. Pacing the hall. Unable to sit down......till I offered up a plate of eggs on toast. With a grin he dug in as did Mr Horsehound who didn't want to overload the tummy on account of his date with family members who would, in due time, be enjoying the silver plated cut glass luxury of sipping tea at The Ritz.
Me eggs went down well though.

Since this morning I've been in and out and round and about Bertie. Inspecting. Laughing. Pulling down appalling curtains.
He will need a lot of attention will Bertie. He's going to be spruced up and washed and dusted and painted here and there with 'new curtains' and cushions and other minor bits and pieces. Already bagged and ready to go are a stainless steel  teapot with hinged lid, matching jug and bowl, a small army of cutlery, mint green cushions, artificial flowers, tea strainer, magnetized chess set for fridge, little elephant on a wire and a set of mini whisks.
Trust me it won't end there.

I'd better go now I have to sit in Bertie and, with hands resting on the formica topped table, smile.

Puddings and Unsentimental Doings

To make way for Bertie the camper van Mr Horsehound and my good self relieved a patch of garden of overgrown shrubs.
It now looks spacious and welcoming.
Plenty of room for the 1972 classic home-from-home vehicle and all done in a morning.
It's wonderful what can be achieved with the right attitude and little elbow grease.

Mum is causing my heart to skip a few beats, having been off her food and not getting into a Bette Davis film this afternoon. She insisted I watch it to its weepy sentimental climax but I couldn't, her vomiting and damp skin making it impossible. So I made her comfortable and dazed my way into the kitchen to make a Summer Pudding.

Another sign of fear is my change of lipsticks... my lips ditching Rose Pink in favour of Crimson.
Which reminds me, Mr Horsehound asked what he was to do with the pink roses by the front door. Cut them down, I said showing not a shred of sentimentality towards the delicate fading blooms. One simply can't be ruled by one's heart. Much.

I'd better get going now dinner needs to be served, Mr H and myself  having Nasi Goreng, mother, God bless her and keep her, is having nought.

Bertie x

Oldies

.My friend Hairy Suit and my good self put our considerable brain power to good use and came up with a thrilling idea.
To buy a Camper Van (pre-owned) so we could shuttle mother around during the balmy August weather. We also want a grown up play thing for the young Hairy Suit to bump around in. He, that's the youngster, is very much into relics so much so that he enjoys making them...

So after much figuring and sifting we found Bertie the 1972 Bedford Camper Van.
He's rich red with heaps of 'character' even boasting a couple of hammocks. The idea of tying mother into the passenger seat whilst either Mr Hairy or myself drive to exotic destinations fills us all with um...happiness.
She's game and up for it and all being well our excursions should begin sometime next week.

Away from transportation issues I've made a few Shepherd's Pot Pies for tonight's tea. A simple mixture of lean minced beef, onion, parsley, stock and Worcestershire sauce. Seasoned madly. Cooked for a while in a frying pan then cooled and potted in small white oven proof pots, topped with sliced tomatoes and cheesy mashed potato.
For dessert...Lime jelly and Mock Cream.

On the Mum front...
We melted our way around Southend on Sea this morning, looking but not buying much except papers, magazines and a few frozen Pie and Mash Dinners. 
Mother is hanging onto whatever gives comfort.

What would give me comfort right now is some food and and drop in temperature.
So my pot pies are coming out and into the garden I dive shoeless.