Tuesday, 6 November 2012

Z wonders how much wine it's reasonable to drink of a Tuesday evening

I'm quite the saddest git I know.  It was rather good to feel my nose grating on the grindstone again.  I'm playing hooky right now mind you, I've got work to do this evening.  I had a long talk with the Head, caught up on school things, discussed the next meeting, I've sent a lot of emails to get things moving, I feel as if I've done a reasonable job.  If you don't earn money from what you do, it can be dismissed as trivial, even by your family (some of them) - I'm sound in my self-esteem because I know I've occasionally made a decision that has had a big and positive impact, but it takes some effort when one is normally judged by money and status.  And yet, I don't believe in either of those myself, not in themselves.  Maybe it was my upbringing in a church school, maybe it was parental influence, maybe it was born in me.  Actually, I believe that it was.  Al is the child most like me and most like my father and, though they never met and he and I have never talked about it, we share many values.  I'm not even sure that he knows that, in fact, and we're not big on hearts-to-heart nowadays.  When a son marries, a mother should step way back and recognise that his wife holds his heart and mind, not her, or she should do.

I had no idea I was going to write that.  Blogging is surprising, don't you think?

We had herrings for supper.  I gutted them, saving the roes (one hard, one soft), bashed them on the backbone to flatten, dipped them in oatmeal and fried them in butter and oil, adding the roes at the last.  I wasn't sure what to serve with them, but ended up with a sweetish wholegrain mustard which worked well.  I fried potatoes, cooked French beans, which were the last from a local grower - there was a sharp frost last night, he picked them just in time - and served some of the last of our tomatoes which were a bit random but delicious.  Very much an end-of-summer feel to the veg.

And there will be a winter feel to the next day or two.  I've bought leeks and parsnips and a cauliflower.  The price of caulis has gone up because of the cold, but I know that Tim isn't profiteering, but rather that he'll have dropped his profit margin.  In a box of ten or a dozen, he'll break even on the second to last and make any money on the final one.  Anything thrown out constitutes a solid loss.  If you don't shop locally, bear in mind that the small shopkeeper has no buying power.  He pays what the wholesaler charges.  The big supermarket cuts out the wholesaler, buys direct from the farm and sends back what isn't sold.  There's no risk, yet many supermarket prices are as high or higher than your local greengrocer's or butcher's or fishmonger's, if you're lucky enough to have any of those.  I'd rather go without something else than not shop locally, though I used a big supermarket too when my children were young and I had to shop for five every week.  I still used the local greengrocer, butcher and fishmonger, though, because they were much better value, and I still supported the village shop, though few did and it finally closed.  Now it's just the Sage and me, I use small independent grocers or the Co-op where they employ many High School students in the evenings and weekends.  And yet, I understand well that many people can't afford the luxury of not shopping around.  As I say, I've gone for the cheap option too, it's buying smaller that gives me choice.

I'm feeling strangely intense this evening, darlings.  Probably it's because I haven't finished work, so am still on duty as it were.  But also, and unusually, I had a good night's sleep.  I woke four times I think, but I wasn't awake more than ten minutes each time, and that's such a rarity that I feel as if I slept the clock round.

8 comments:

Mike and Ann said...

It's a great blessing to be able to sleep well o' nights. All too often I find meself having a quick zizz in the afternoon as well - and that is a nasty, middle aged habit!

Z said...

I hardly ever do that, Mike, even if I've had a sleepless night. It's a pity, I think a ten minute nap is marvellously restorative.

Frances Garrood said...

Are you by any chance the other half of Tim? In case you are, good luck!

And if you're an insomniac, you have my sysmpthies. I've been one all my life, and it's horrible.

PS Roes on toast are lovely!

Mike and Ann said...

It probably is Zoe, but whenever I succumb to the temptation of taking forty winks I crash out for two hours or so.

Z said...

Hello, Frances - no, we're just good blogfriends. We met in person back in May when he came to a party at my house and I've been to see him a couple of times since, so the mistake is understandable!

I have always been a poor sleeper, but it's got markedly worse over the last few months.

And yes, I love hard roes. My husband loves soft roes too, but preparing soft cod roes is very off-putting and I just don't fancy them!

If I lie on the bed, I might be out for the count for hours, Mike, but sitting in a chair, I'm good for ten minutes. It's a rare thing though, sadly.

Mike and Ann said...

Thanks. I'll try that.

mig said...

Well I'm very glad you had a good night.
Now, I've read this post carefully and enjoyed every word and I've come to the conclusion that however much wine you drank was the right amount.

Z said...

You can tell when I'm writing with feeling, can't you?