Each day this week, the Times and iTunes are giving a free download. Today's is called 'Eat raw meat = blood drool' and is by the Editors. I sent the link to Ro who, of course, already knew the Editors, which was more than I did. "If it's good I'll buy it" he said airily, not having iTunes on his computer and not, apparently, wanting it.
But really. In what set of circumstances is 'Eat raw meat = blood drool' a good name for a song? I rather like the song, though I've only listened to it twice so far and, as any fule kno, you have to listen to a piece of music a minimum of three times before you can evaluate it.
Tomorrow, I will be in London. Having come to the conclusion that Four Dinners doesn't read the comments on his own blog, I've emailed him. Of course, he could be ignoring me. Anyway, what we're doing is going up to the flat, finishing (DV) the making-good that I started a couple of weeks ago, then we'll do *whatever* for a few hours and meet at Liverpool Street, assuming *whatever* is not entirely together, get something to eat and catch the 8 o'clock train home. Dilly will look after Tilly and vice versa.
Monday, 12 October 2009
H for Learning
Of course, learning should be life-long. I do hope I never lose interest and curiosity and a wish to find out new things. Even when I'm in my dotage with no memory, it would be rather nice if my eagerness for the new is still there - after all, with so much forgotten, there would be so much to be surprised by, even if I lost it again within moments.
But today was the official opening of the new age for learning in our village school. The Bishop came (it's a voluntary aided church school) and lots of people who've been involved here, in one way or another. There was a former headteacher, a past chairman of governors (well, three of us) and the present head of the high school. Actually, it was a fairly select bunch and I was rather chuffed to be included.
Afterwards, I had a good and interesting talk with the Local Authority chap who's liaised between the schools involved in the whole project, 36 of them. It all started in 2001, and we were both at the first meeting - he was a headteacher himself then, and it was only upon his retirement from that when he was invited to apply for his present job. We've always got on well and, although he really is retiring soon, he is making sure that there are good prospects for future projects here.
Actually, I must thank and commend (though I rather trust none of them will read this) everybody who was involved in the new building of . It was first set up as a PFI (Private Finance Initiative) by the government, as a way of injecting a lot of cash into school building while never having to fork out the capital costs itself, but paying a lot of money, in the long run, to the consortium involved. The reasoning was to avoid it show up on the public borrowing figures (yes, I delved until I found that out). However, this folded when the consortium ran low on funds, so the government and local authority had to take it over in the end. The LA, with the help of Norwich churches education trust (not saying its proper title because of google) where relevant, have kept faith with all the schools involved and given everything that was promised. Finally, the project is nearing its end, with the last schools moving into their new premises within the next year. It has been a fine job, many of the schools involved are small village ones (ours is a 75 pupil school at present, although it will become 90 when there is another classroom built for two further year groups) and several are smaller than that. Ours, like some others, didn't have a school hall so the children had to do gym in the village hall. End of term assemblies and school plays and concerts were held in the church. A piece of land is leased by the village church for use by the school as a playing field. Even at that, rooms had to multi-task - a folding screen was taken back at lunchtime so that two classrooms were made into the dining hall. There was a mobile classroom, so children had to come outside and into the main building to use the cloakrooms and lavatories.
To tell the truth, we all loved that school. I'll miss it. But all the same, this is better in so many ways. It's wonderful. I'm writing to thank the head now.
But today was the official opening of the new age for learning in our village school. The Bishop came (it's a voluntary aided church school) and lots of people who've been involved here, in one way or another. There was a former headteacher, a past chairman of governors (well, three of us) and the present head of the high school. Actually, it was a fairly select bunch and I was rather chuffed to be included.
Afterwards, I had a good and interesting talk with the Local Authority chap who's liaised between the schools involved in the whole project, 36 of them. It all started in 2001, and we were both at the first meeting - he was a headteacher himself then, and it was only upon his retirement from that when he was invited to apply for his present job. We've always got on well and, although he really is retiring soon, he is making sure that there are good prospects for future projects here.
Actually, I must thank and commend (though I rather trust none of them will read this) everybody who was involved in the new building of . It was first set up as a PFI (Private Finance Initiative) by the government, as a way of injecting a lot of cash into school building while never having to fork out the capital costs itself, but paying a lot of money, in the long run, to the consortium involved. The reasoning was to avoid it show up on the public borrowing figures (yes, I delved until I found that out). However, this folded when the consortium ran low on funds, so the government and local authority had to take it over in the end. The LA, with the help of Norwich churches education trust (not saying its proper title because of google) where relevant, have kept faith with all the schools involved and given everything that was promised. Finally, the project is nearing its end, with the last schools moving into their new premises within the next year. It has been a fine job, many of the schools involved are small village ones (ours is a 75 pupil school at present, although it will become 90 when there is another classroom built for two further year groups) and several are smaller than that. Ours, like some others, didn't have a school hall so the children had to do gym in the village hall. End of term assemblies and school plays and concerts were held in the church. A piece of land is leased by the village church for use by the school as a playing field. Even at that, rooms had to multi-task - a folding screen was taken back at lunchtime so that two classrooms were made into the dining hall. There was a mobile classroom, so children had to come outside and into the main building to use the cloakrooms and lavatories.
To tell the truth, we all loved that school. I'll miss it. But all the same, this is better in so many ways. It's wonderful. I'm writing to thank the head now.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
G f'cook'n'bottlewasher:Z decides what to make for dinner
There's very little choice as I didn't go shopping for the weekend. However, the Sage came in bearing a box of fine potatoes - I didn't grow potatoes this year, but a couple of thrown-out sprouted spuds had grown and cropped and he'd dug them up from the compost heap. Then I've got half a bunch of carrots. A few shallots. That's all the vegetables in the house, although I've some cavolo nero-type kale in the garden, some tomatoes, aubergines, peppers and chillis in the greenhouse and plenty of squashes. In the fridge, some cheddar, a small amount of Stilton and what looks like a tub of cream cheese but is actually garlic'n'herb flavoured tofu. The usual storecupboard stuff and, freshly made and still cooling, a big bowl of beef stock.
If I use only what's in the house and mainly fresh ingredients, I could make risotto, using shallots, stock and some cheese with the rice. Or pommes boulangère, with potatoes, shallots, stock and some milk. I could do a couple of eggs with that - the chickens are a bit off lay but there are a few eggs. I could make soup with potato, shallot, carrot and the stock, and do cheese scones to go with it. Or I could simply bake a couple of potatoes and serve them with a hunk of cheese. Hm. More choice than I realised, especially since I've not taken into account extra possible ingredients which are there for the picking. I'm sort of inclined to focus on the potatoes, since anything newly harvested tastes particularly good.
Pommes boulangère it is, then.
Last night, I was chatting to the daughter of friends, who has just moved up this way from London. She's about 30, tall and blonde, with two children of about 12 and 8. I asked how she liked living here, and she said they all love it and the children have settled down happily in their new schools. Her daughter, the older one, is finding it a great deal less stressful. Their father, who does not live with them any more, is black and she had been harried and sneered at for her appearance, which might seem unlikely in a London school where there is a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds. But here, she's accepted for the person she is and no one cares what she looks like. "She loves not having to straighten her hair every morning" said her mother. "She was bullied if she went to school with curly hair in London". I don't know, maybe we're over-protective, but that would be called a racist incident at my high school, logged and reported to governors, and the pupils responsible would be reprimanded. But actually, it would be most unlikely to happen.
Right. Time to start getting those potatoes ready if I want dinner to be cooked in an hour and a half.
If I use only what's in the house and mainly fresh ingredients, I could make risotto, using shallots, stock and some cheese with the rice. Or pommes boulangère, with potatoes, shallots, stock and some milk. I could do a couple of eggs with that - the chickens are a bit off lay but there are a few eggs. I could make soup with potato, shallot, carrot and the stock, and do cheese scones to go with it. Or I could simply bake a couple of potatoes and serve them with a hunk of cheese. Hm. More choice than I realised, especially since I've not taken into account extra possible ingredients which are there for the picking. I'm sort of inclined to focus on the potatoes, since anything newly harvested tastes particularly good.
Pommes boulangère it is, then.
Last night, I was chatting to the daughter of friends, who has just moved up this way from London. She's about 30, tall and blonde, with two children of about 12 and 8. I asked how she liked living here, and she said they all love it and the children have settled down happily in their new schools. Her daughter, the older one, is finding it a great deal less stressful. Their father, who does not live with them any more, is black and she had been harried and sneered at for her appearance, which might seem unlikely in a London school where there is a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds. But here, she's accepted for the person she is and no one cares what she looks like. "She loves not having to straighten her hair every morning" said her mother. "She was bullied if she went to school with curly hair in London". I don't know, maybe we're over-protective, but that would be called a racist incident at my high school, logged and reported to governors, and the pupils responsible would be reprimanded. But actually, it would be most unlikely to happen.
Right. Time to start getting those potatoes ready if I want dinner to be cooked in an hour and a half.
Saturday, 10 October 2009
F for T'less Entertaining
It's no trouble, slapping food into the oven and on plates - actually (is this a guilty secret or does everyone know it?) the more people who are coming, the less bother it is. You might take hours on intricate recipes for 4 or 6, but if there are a dozen or more guests, you'll just make sure that the food is fairly simple, very tasty and not fiddly to make or serve, and do lots of it.
The only difficulty is deciding what to make. Specifically, what pudding. I've hardly made a pudding for ages, you see. I used to - in the days when we spent a month having weekly parties and then happily dined out on the return invitations for the next three, I'd probably make two or three different puds each time. And I used to make cakes and things for the family regularly, so it didn't seem hard. But now, I'm so out of the habit that it doesn't come easy any more. It's not that people don't come round, but the pudding is certainly not a major event any more. Indeed, if it's family or last-minute, I buy one with no guilt at all.
I've got an array of books in front of me and I've spent the last hour wondering what to cook. Several other people are doing puds as well, though I've no idea what they're doing. I bet there will be at least one apple pie or crumble, so I won't do that. It has to be pre-cooked, so has to be suitable to be served warm or cold, or be patient about being kept warm for an hour or two. I don't do shortcrust pastry, far too messy.
I'm toying with the notion of sticky toffee pudding, which is appallingly fattening but which people adore. Last-minute heating up of sauce isn't much bother. I could make a chocolate cake with a chocolate sauce. Bread and butter pudding is always popular and nice served warm. Or something fruity, perhaps. But not apple. Hm.
I'll go and peer in the larder and see if anything gives me inspiration.
The only difficulty is deciding what to make. Specifically, what pudding. I've hardly made a pudding for ages, you see. I used to - in the days when we spent a month having weekly parties and then happily dined out on the return invitations for the next three, I'd probably make two or three different puds each time. And I used to make cakes and things for the family regularly, so it didn't seem hard. But now, I'm so out of the habit that it doesn't come easy any more. It's not that people don't come round, but the pudding is certainly not a major event any more. Indeed, if it's family or last-minute, I buy one with no guilt at all.
I've got an array of books in front of me and I've spent the last hour wondering what to cook. Several other people are doing puds as well, though I've no idea what they're doing. I bet there will be at least one apple pie or crumble, so I won't do that. It has to be pre-cooked, so has to be suitable to be served warm or cold, or be patient about being kept warm for an hour or two. I don't do shortcrust pastry, far too messy.
I'm toying with the notion of sticky toffee pudding, which is appallingly fattening but which people adore. Last-minute heating up of sauce isn't much bother. I could make a chocolate cake with a chocolate sauce. Bread and butter pudding is always popular and nice served warm. Or something fruity, perhaps. But not apple. Hm.
I'll go and peer in the larder and see if anything gives me inspiration.
Friday, 9 October 2009
E for brick...
... Which should, of course, have been the name for yesterday's post, but I didn't want my themes to get mixed, if you see what I mean.
However, I will say that we chose the right day to lay bricks. It rained every other day, and is raining right now, and was decidedly chilly today and wouldn't have been pleasant for an effete pleasure-lover like wot I am to work in the cold. There was a frost, probably just an air frost, last night, which Al discovered when he went out to work at larkfart this morning, and he's harvested most, if not all, of the squashes tonight. Or, rather, this evening when it wasn't raining.
After my late-night chat with Dave, I was woken after a mere hour's sleep, at 2am, by the burglar alarm going off. It has been renamed. It is the mouse alarm, god bother'em. I couldn't even be arsed to put anything on, but stumbled downstairs, turned it off and came back up. My startled and relaxed knee hurt a lot. I wriggled myself into a comfortable position, the Sage cuddled up to me and I stuck an over-warm leg out of the bed. Then I got a tickle on my back. A spontaneous tickle, that is, not anything that anyone did to me. After a while, the Sage's hand strayed near it so I gratefully asked for a rub in the right place, which was lovely.
Today, I sang in a music lesson. I'm no singer, I was being a good-natured Good Example. Not a solo, I hasten to add. I was rather happy because a lad had approached me happily to say that he had practised and perfected the riff I taught him in the last lesson. That was really good, that he'd done it willingly and that he'd wanted to tell me.
Tomorrow is the Harvest Supper. I have said I'll make a beef cobbler (gosh, how retro. I haven't done such a thing in at least 20 years) and a pudding, each for 16 people.
However, I will say that we chose the right day to lay bricks. It rained every other day, and is raining right now, and was decidedly chilly today and wouldn't have been pleasant for an effete pleasure-lover like wot I am to work in the cold. There was a frost, probably just an air frost, last night, which Al discovered when he went out to work at larkfart this morning, and he's harvested most, if not all, of the squashes tonight. Or, rather, this evening when it wasn't raining.
After my late-night chat with Dave, I was woken after a mere hour's sleep, at 2am, by the burglar alarm going off. It has been renamed. It is the mouse alarm, god bother'em. I couldn't even be arsed to put anything on, but stumbled downstairs, turned it off and came back up. My startled and relaxed knee hurt a lot. I wriggled myself into a comfortable position, the Sage cuddled up to me and I stuck an over-warm leg out of the bed. Then I got a tickle on my back. A spontaneous tickle, that is, not anything that anyone did to me. After a while, the Sage's hand strayed near it so I gratefully asked for a rub in the right place, which was lovely.
Today, I sang in a music lesson. I'm no singer, I was being a good-natured Good Example. Not a solo, I hasten to add. I was rather happy because a lad had approached me happily to say that he had practised and perfected the riff I taught him in the last lesson. That was really good, that he'd done it willingly and that he'd wanted to tell me.
Tomorrow is the Harvest Supper. I have said I'll make a beef cobbler (gosh, how retro. I haven't done such a thing in at least 20 years) and a pudding, each for 16 people.
Thursday, 8 October 2009
Bringing on the wall, Day 32 - and an intruder brings the Sage a present
Having tried out the capping for the wall, it was decided that the pillars would need to be a brick higher to provide a contrast. When you see the photos, they look a bit too high at present, but they won't in the end. Dave had a couple of pillars to finish and the final bricks to add to the others. In the meantime, I was going to be set loose on the middle pillar in the stretch of wall that is yet to be done. The foundation bricks are on two levels; there is a drop just beyond the pillar, so the first thing to do was to add three courses of bricks to make that level.
"I'll need half bricks, won't I" I said. Dave and I stood and looked at it. Yes I would, but it meant that there would be five mortar joints one above the other. Of course, if the brickie had staggered the row it would have looked less neat when the red bricks were laid upon the grey masonry bricks, and for added strength he had put in a metal tie so it won't make it a weak spot but it will look as if it is.
After I'd laid the first few bricks, I lost my confidence somewhat, and said that I'd rather build up the first course from the corner, rather than risk it being uneven. However, since there would only be enough mortar for me to put in a few more bricks, as Dave needs a great deal for filling in the centre of the columns, there wasn't much point in starting and, with apologies to Dave for being a slacker, I stood and watched him for a while instead.
Photos of the Great Man Inaction
Second one down is of the final brick being pointed.
When Dave arrived, Scarlet and Pinkie came over to greet him, so we gave them their breakfast. By the end of the morning, they were contentedly lying down in the sunshine, ruminating.
It was chilly at first, but turned out to be a gorgeous morning, warm and sunny. We decided we could have lunch on the lawn, possibly for the last time this year. We had bacon sandwiches. I squirted HP sauce on mine, but the chaps are far too classy for that sort of stuff. Most of my toast went to the chickens that came and clustered round.
Later, the Sage went to put his latest eBay purchase in a cabinet in the drawing room. When he opened it, he noticed a new arrival.
He rang Weeza, who denied knowing anything about it. Then he asked Dilly, who was equally innocent. He went to the shop to ask Al if he'd put it there. The thing is, it's a clever joke because it actually is a match holder and striker, if not the finest specimen, and the Sage collects antique vesta cases, which are Victorian/Edwarian match holders. This dog would have stood on a bar (it's got Guinness written the other side of the collar) and has a hole for matches on top of its head and a rough area for striking them in front of its neck and at the back of its head. Anyway, Al said he knew nothing about it either. We haven't asked Ro yet, but he's not been here for a couple of weeks and the Sage thinks he'd have noticed it since then. I've not opened the cabinet and might not have. It didn't occur to the Sage to ask if I put it there, but I didn't anyway. It's an amusing joke and still a mystery. The pottery dog has a small chip on the back - it was probably 50p at a junk stall or car boot fair.
"I'll need half bricks, won't I" I said. Dave and I stood and looked at it. Yes I would, but it meant that there would be five mortar joints one above the other. Of course, if the brickie had staggered the row it would have looked less neat when the red bricks were laid upon the grey masonry bricks, and for added strength he had put in a metal tie so it won't make it a weak spot but it will look as if it is.
After I'd laid the first few bricks, I lost my confidence somewhat, and said that I'd rather build up the first course from the corner, rather than risk it being uneven. However, since there would only be enough mortar for me to put in a few more bricks, as Dave needs a great deal for filling in the centre of the columns, there wasn't much point in starting and, with apologies to Dave for being a slacker, I stood and watched him for a while instead.
Photos of the Great Man Inaction
Second one down is of the final brick being pointed.
When Dave arrived, Scarlet and Pinkie came over to greet him, so we gave them their breakfast. By the end of the morning, they were contentedly lying down in the sunshine, ruminating.
It was chilly at first, but turned out to be a gorgeous morning, warm and sunny. We decided we could have lunch on the lawn, possibly for the last time this year. We had bacon sandwiches. I squirted HP sauce on mine, but the chaps are far too classy for that sort of stuff. Most of my toast went to the chickens that came and clustered round.
Later, the Sage went to put his latest eBay purchase in a cabinet in the drawing room. When he opened it, he noticed a new arrival.
He rang Weeza, who denied knowing anything about it. Then he asked Dilly, who was equally innocent. He went to the shop to ask Al if he'd put it there. The thing is, it's a clever joke because it actually is a match holder and striker, if not the finest specimen, and the Sage collects antique vesta cases, which are Victorian/Edwarian match holders. This dog would have stood on a bar (it's got Guinness written the other side of the collar) and has a hole for matches on top of its head and a rough area for striking them in front of its neck and at the back of its head. Anyway, Al said he knew nothing about it either. We haven't asked Ro yet, but he's not been here for a couple of weeks and the Sage thinks he'd have noticed it since then. I've not opened the cabinet and might not have. It didn't occur to the Sage to ask if I put it there, but I didn't anyway. It's an amusing joke and still a mystery. The pottery dog has a small chip on the back - it was probably 50p at a junk stall or car boot fair.
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
D formation
No really, it seems to be an untruth universally accepted that I drink a lot. I don't. I may be seen at all social occasions with a glass in my hand, but that does not suggest that it's frequently being emptied by me and refilled. Indeed, I distinctly remember (for I was sober all the time) at Weeza and Phil's wedding filling my glass, with infinite subtlety, only three-quarters full at the start and clutching it most of the evening. Since I took the occasional swig, it was assumed that I had had several glassfuls, but only the one. Until it warmed just too much, when it was quietly poured onto the grass and re-half-filled.
Nevertheless, I do avow that one of the biggest treats is drinking during the day. PURELY BECAUSE IT'S SO RARE (please excuse the rare excursion into Dooce-territory. Great girl, but she don't half shout a lot). So yesterday, when I had a glass of wine before lunch, was a delight.
Today was a delight too, mind you, though no alcohol was involved at all, because Weeza sent me an email this morning with a newspaper article about increased speed traps around and about, and particularly in Boringland (the first letter should be a P, but the village sign was defaced, not by me, some years ago and it does seem to suit, for drivers-through at any rate though I'm sure it's a truly delightful place to live. Really - I often use the shops and I know some nice people who live there). She was, googlemailwise, online, so I said a cheery 'hi', as one does (how come 'Hi' is an acceptable salutation for email when it Wouldn't Do for a letter? And when did 'Kind regards' be the norm for signing off, email or letter, if semi-formal to friendly?). Anyhoo, it transpired that she would be home by lunchtime, so I invited myself over. Very enjoyable. Zerlina has sprouted lots of teeth in the last week or so, having had only 4 (reduced to 3) for months. She is also walking steadily, although still holding her arms out, zombie-like, for balance. I advised on pruning of shrubs and various plants for winter, and also on planting of tulips. Can't be arsed to do it but I'm sound on advice.
Ooh! - Update - Weeza has just forwarded this. Another use for a butt
Nevertheless, I do avow that one of the biggest treats is drinking during the day. PURELY BECAUSE IT'S SO RARE (please excuse the rare excursion into Dooce-territory. Great girl, but she don't half shout a lot). So yesterday, when I had a glass of wine before lunch, was a delight.
Today was a delight too, mind you, though no alcohol was involved at all, because Weeza sent me an email this morning with a newspaper article about increased speed traps around and about, and particularly in Boringland (the first letter should be a P, but the village sign was defaced, not by me, some years ago and it does seem to suit, for drivers-through at any rate though I'm sure it's a truly delightful place to live. Really - I often use the shops and I know some nice people who live there). She was, googlemailwise, online, so I said a cheery 'hi', as one does (how come 'Hi' is an acceptable salutation for email when it Wouldn't Do for a letter? And when did 'Kind regards' be the norm for signing off, email or letter, if semi-formal to friendly?). Anyhoo, it transpired that she would be home by lunchtime, so I invited myself over. Very enjoyable. Zerlina has sprouted lots of teeth in the last week or so, having had only 4 (reduced to 3) for months. She is also walking steadily, although still holding her arms out, zombie-like, for balance. I advised on pruning of shrubs and various plants for winter, and also on planting of tulips. Can't be arsed to do it but I'm sound on advice.
Ooh! - Update - Weeza has just forwarded this. Another use for a butt
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
C the wood for the trees
Unusually sensible, I drove this morning rather than cycle, although it was hardly raining. Bucketing down when I came home again, however. I was jolly hungry too, I'd been a bit short on breakfast stuff this morning and only had a thin slice of dry toast. I bought stuff from Al and came home. As soon as Scarlet saw me, she started to hurry towards the gate, so I got out and fetched her and Pinkie half a bale of hay. It was nearly 2 o'clock by then and I rather wished I hadn't decided to cook something that would take 20 minutes so I finished a bottle of wine while I was waiting for the food (2 large mushrooms, shallots, tomatoes, garlic and peppers, both sweet and chilli) to cook.
The weather has brightened now, but it's been rather good to have some rain. Fills the butts somewhat, for a start, which will please Dave immensely. He does appreciate a well-filled butt and he's bemoaned the sere condition of his for a few weeks now.
The summer crops in the garden are coming to an end. The last few tomatoes, the very last of the runner beans - still fresh and tender to the last picking. Soon, it'll be time to harvest the squashes. I'll keep a few back, but Al will sell most of them. Not all the french beans were picked, so I must remember to save the seeds before they get frosted.
The weather has brightened now, but it's been rather good to have some rain. Fills the butts somewhat, for a start, which will please Dave immensely. He does appreciate a well-filled butt and he's bemoaned the sere condition of his for a few weeks now.
The summer crops in the garden are coming to an end. The last few tomatoes, the very last of the runner beans - still fresh and tender to the last picking. Soon, it'll be time to harvest the squashes. I'll keep a few back, but Al will sell most of them. Not all the french beans were picked, so I must remember to save the seeds before they get frosted.
Monday, 5 October 2009
B for Z loses her patience with Big Pinkie
"Pinkie's out again!" announced the Sage provocatively. "I'll have to dry my hair first," I responded. Never accuse me of a lack of willingness, but I'm not prepared to get a cold head for the sake of a cow.
She's loosened a stake and keeps pushing her way under the barbed wire. Scarlet has more sense and a less tough hide and stays in the field. Pinkie has no wish to escape, she just wants to eat what she can from the hedgerow. I wished I'd had my camera with me when I fed her a bunch of grapes, her curling tongue was quite something to see. After she was securely in, they obediently followed the Sage back across the field while I went home on my bike. They weren't willing to cross the beck - they go back and forth several times each day, but they had a feeling about it this time. Indeed, we put the gate across afterwards, they won't be allowed on that field again but will have to stay on the Ups and Downs. However, the Sage had already been to the farm for some hay and some straw and they are, right now, tucking into some of it. And here are Pictures, so that Scarlet can see her namesake (this is a brilliant name for her, by the way. It suits her and it doesn't sound at all odd to call out "Here, Pinkie! Come on, Scarlet!).
Scarlet has a very pretty face
I gave Pinkie an apple, but didn't manage to take the photo as she took it from my hand
Scarlet is very appreciative of the hay
She is an exceptionally attractive cow, with a sweet nose and glossy hair.
Pinkie is rather more "about time too. Took you long enough to get the hint." She is older and heavier, with a strong character. Very friendly and good-natured, but independent of spirit. She's past her best milking days but she is much loved and will live her life out here and on the farm. She's in calf, due in December and so still earning her keep.
She's loosened a stake and keeps pushing her way under the barbed wire. Scarlet has more sense and a less tough hide and stays in the field. Pinkie has no wish to escape, she just wants to eat what she can from the hedgerow. I wished I'd had my camera with me when I fed her a bunch of grapes, her curling tongue was quite something to see. After she was securely in, they obediently followed the Sage back across the field while I went home on my bike. They weren't willing to cross the beck - they go back and forth several times each day, but they had a feeling about it this time. Indeed, we put the gate across afterwards, they won't be allowed on that field again but will have to stay on the Ups and Downs. However, the Sage had already been to the farm for some hay and some straw and they are, right now, tucking into some of it. And here are Pictures, so that Scarlet can see her namesake (this is a brilliant name for her, by the way. It suits her and it doesn't sound at all odd to call out "Here, Pinkie! Come on, Scarlet!).
Scarlet has a very pretty face
I gave Pinkie an apple, but didn't manage to take the photo as she took it from my hand
Scarlet is very appreciative of the hay
She is an exceptionally attractive cow, with a sweet nose and glossy hair.
Pinkie is rather more "about time too. Took you long enough to get the hint." She is older and heavier, with a strong character. Very friendly and good-natured, but independent of spirit. She's past her best milking days but she is much loved and will live her life out here and on the farm. She's in calf, due in December and so still earning her keep.
Sunday, 4 October 2009
A is for cows
I was just leaving the church when the Sage hurried in looking flustered - almost unheard of, I'm the overexcitable one of the family. I'd left him in charge of lunch, and he (taking this gratifyingly seriously) wanted me to know that he had to desert his post as Big Pinkie had got out again. I gave him a bunch of grapes for her, left over from Harvest Festival, and went home.
I was on foot because, getting my bike out for me (the Sage is unbelievably polite and does this sort of thing all the time. In winter, he not only fetches my coat but warms it in front of the fire for me too), it was found to have a flat rear tyre. I suggested phoning Phil to ask him to bring his foot-pump, as it's a lot more effective than my bicycle pump. Phil said he'd bring his repair kit and mend the tyre too, which was awfully nice of him.
Anyway, I spent half an hour in fully-efficient mode, which I do well if rarely. I put the potatoes in to roast, cut up and par-boiled the parsnips, prepared the Yorkshire pudding batter, washed and prepared the carrots and the romanesco (it's a pale green cross between cauliflower and broccoli), took the meat out of the oven, put the Yorkshire pudding in, put the parsnips in, got all the drinks ready, laid the table and cleaned up the kitchen. Those who normally see the way I move find this sort of thing quite scary and have been known to assume I'm panicking. But of course it's just another manifestation of extreme laziness. Gives me time to lounge around before and afterwards.
After lunch the Sage took some carrots out to the cows. Pinkie was waiting at the gate and when Scarlet (newly and proudly named) saw us she came hurrying up. A handsome female running at full tilt is an impressive sight. They took the food eagerly, rasping my fingers with their tongues. The Sage said he'd go up to the farm and fetch them some hay - in fact, when he arrived there the farmer's wife was just getting in her car with half a bale in the boot for them. The girls were very appreciative.
Phil mended the puncture. I was very appreciative too.
I was on foot because, getting my bike out for me (the Sage is unbelievably polite and does this sort of thing all the time. In winter, he not only fetches my coat but warms it in front of the fire for me too), it was found to have a flat rear tyre. I suggested phoning Phil to ask him to bring his foot-pump, as it's a lot more effective than my bicycle pump. Phil said he'd bring his repair kit and mend the tyre too, which was awfully nice of him.
Anyway, I spent half an hour in fully-efficient mode, which I do well if rarely. I put the potatoes in to roast, cut up and par-boiled the parsnips, prepared the Yorkshire pudding batter, washed and prepared the carrots and the romanesco (it's a pale green cross between cauliflower and broccoli), took the meat out of the oven, put the Yorkshire pudding in, put the parsnips in, got all the drinks ready, laid the table and cleaned up the kitchen. Those who normally see the way I move find this sort of thing quite scary and have been known to assume I'm panicking. But of course it's just another manifestation of extreme laziness. Gives me time to lounge around before and afterwards.
After lunch the Sage took some carrots out to the cows. Pinkie was waiting at the gate and when Scarlet (newly and proudly named) saw us she came hurrying up. A handsome female running at full tilt is an impressive sight. They took the food eagerly, rasping my fingers with their tongues. The Sage said he'd go up to the farm and fetch them some hay - in fact, when he arrived there the farmer's wife was just getting in her car with half a bale in the boot for them. The girls were very appreciative.
Phil mended the puncture. I was very appreciative too.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
Bringing on the wall, Day 31 - Z does nothing but make tea and lunch
The final course of bricks along the longest part, at last. We'd all agreed that it would be best for it to be done in a single stretch from one end, rather than us working together, one from each end. So there wasn't anything for me to do, as it was easier for Dave, being taller, to do it rather than for short-arse Z. It made it a long morning for him however, and he didn't finish until after 1pm. Far too windy to enjoy lunch on the lawn so we ate it in the dining room.
I caught Dave unawares.
The third and fourth bricks had yet to be tapped down, after which the whole wall was precisely level.
Next week the Sage is quite busy, so we won't have a chance to get together with Dave until Thursday. There's a definite change in the weather this week - it so often happens that a new month brings about different weather - so I hope that we don't get too much rain. It's raining right now, the Sage says.
The most exciting thing that happened this morning, apart from the final laying of the last brick of this session, which one might refer to as a milestone, was when Daphne phoned to say there was a cow out. The Sage set out across the field and I went down the drive on my bike. We found Ann cuddling Big Pinkie (wash your minds out, people, Pinkie is a cow). We soon found where she had squeezed under the wire, as there were tufts of hair on the barbs. Fortunately, Stephen was going past (he's the helpful chap who saved me from the icy waters some years ago, did I tell you about that?) and he helped the Sage take down the wire, because there weren't no ways Pinkie was going back the way she'd got out. Ann went and fetched an apple, because you can't drive Pinkie, only lead her - she's an independently minded cow and she was quite happy where she was. 202, the other cow (you may name her if you like, she's more black than white and friendly with a non-raspy tongue) looked rather jealous. They are grazing some 7 or 8 acres, but it hasn't rained for months, there's little grass left. Either the farmer needs to bring hay or fetch them back to the farm. She reluctantly followed us back onto the field and gave 202 a shove for trying to share her apple.
I caught Dave unawares.
The third and fourth bricks had yet to be tapped down, after which the whole wall was precisely level.
Next week the Sage is quite busy, so we won't have a chance to get together with Dave until Thursday. There's a definite change in the weather this week - it so often happens that a new month brings about different weather - so I hope that we don't get too much rain. It's raining right now, the Sage says.
The most exciting thing that happened this morning, apart from the final laying of the last brick of this session, which one might refer to as a milestone, was when Daphne phoned to say there was a cow out. The Sage set out across the field and I went down the drive on my bike. We found Ann cuddling Big Pinkie (wash your minds out, people, Pinkie is a cow). We soon found where she had squeezed under the wire, as there were tufts of hair on the barbs. Fortunately, Stephen was going past (he's the helpful chap who saved me from the icy waters some years ago, did I tell you about that?) and he helped the Sage take down the wire, because there weren't no ways Pinkie was going back the way she'd got out. Ann went and fetched an apple, because you can't drive Pinkie, only lead her - she's an independently minded cow and she was quite happy where she was. 202, the other cow (you may name her if you like, she's more black than white and friendly with a non-raspy tongue) looked rather jealous. They are grazing some 7 or 8 acres, but it hasn't rained for months, there's little grass left. Either the farmer needs to bring hay or fetch them back to the farm. She reluctantly followed us back onto the field and gave 202 a shove for trying to share her apple.
Inside the small strange world of bloggers
Dave arrived. "Come in and have a cup of tea," I invited, clearing a pile of stuff from an armchair. The sofa was clear, but that's Tilly's. "How are you?" "Have you read my blog?" he replied - wasn't there a comedy show where one of the things was to answer a question with a question? "Had I better?" I responded, joining in with the spirit of the thing.
As he sat here, I was replying to his blog in his comment box and replying to his own comment in mine. This only seems odd to non-bloggers.
The phone rang. It was Weeza, replying to my invitation to lunch tomorrow. They've got a friend there for the weekend, whom we've all known all her life. She's a bit younger than Weeza - her elder brother was a schoolfriend of Al's - and the friendship between our families goes back a century. Weeza had waited to check if it was convenient with her to join us for lunch or whether she had something else planned, but it fitted in nicely. "I was thinking of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, unless you'd like something else?" I suggested. "Phil, what would you like? Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, or something else?" asked Weeza, joining in, all unknowing, with the spirit of the game. Phil didn't beat about the bush*. "Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding," I heard, in an enthusiastic tone.
The Sage and Dave are doing a two-person job this morning and I'll be of limited use. So I'll go and do the shopping first. The weather is not conducive to al fresco eating, so we'll be in the dining room for lunch.
*I wrote 'beat about the bust'. Heh.
As he sat here, I was replying to his blog in his comment box and replying to his own comment in mine. This only seems odd to non-bloggers.
The phone rang. It was Weeza, replying to my invitation to lunch tomorrow. They've got a friend there for the weekend, whom we've all known all her life. She's a bit younger than Weeza - her elder brother was a schoolfriend of Al's - and the friendship between our families goes back a century. Weeza had waited to check if it was convenient with her to join us for lunch or whether she had something else planned, but it fitted in nicely. "I was thinking of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, unless you'd like something else?" I suggested. "Phil, what would you like? Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, or something else?" asked Weeza, joining in, all unknowing, with the spirit of the game. Phil didn't beat about the bush*. "Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding," I heard, in an enthusiastic tone.
The Sage and Dave are doing a two-person job this morning and I'll be of limited use. So I'll go and do the shopping first. The weather is not conducive to al fresco eating, so we'll be in the dining room for lunch.
*I wrote 'beat about the bust'. Heh.
Friday, 2 October 2009
Squeak
Having seen over 70 Year 9s through learning the keyboard riffs to at least one piece of music, I've had enough of Coldplay for a bit. So I'm playing Schumann lieder again, even though the first on the CD is Melancholie and I avoid such a feeling.
I called in for various fruit and veg on the way home, put on a cob of sweetcorn to cook and brought a fig through here to eat in the meantime. I heard rustling in the cupboard (where we keep the coal scuttle and log basket in the winter) and then some clattering and, finally, an anxious squeak. There was nothing for it. I'd have to face the mousetrap.
Fortunately, the mouse, though caught by a paw, didn't look too badly injured - that is, no blood. And it's a plastic trap. So I picked the trap up. The poor mouse clung on with its other paws. When I let it go it crouched for a minute in the long grass before running off. I should have taken it further from the house, I hope it won't come back, but I didn't want to prolong its pain and fear, and I didn't much want to take it out of the trap and hold it in my hand. Unfortunately, there's no way of keeping mice out of an old house like this - too many chinks. And you can't just ignore them or you'd be overrun.
No, we don't set humane traps. Sorry. This will change. Disposing of a dead mouse is one thing, but a frightened little living thing - you identify with it and warm to it. We'll still have to put mouse traps in the attic, because it would be worse to trap a mouse and not visit it within a short time, but downstairs it will be humane traps from now on, even if they do come back in again. *Sigh*
The Sage has had a fabulous week. He bought another item on ebay and visited two more people and phoned another who are not only old friends (truly, the main reason for the visits) but promising contacts for future auctions. He's all happy, which means I am too.
I called in for various fruit and veg on the way home, put on a cob of sweetcorn to cook and brought a fig through here to eat in the meantime. I heard rustling in the cupboard (where we keep the coal scuttle and log basket in the winter) and then some clattering and, finally, an anxious squeak. There was nothing for it. I'd have to face the mousetrap.
Fortunately, the mouse, though caught by a paw, didn't look too badly injured - that is, no blood. And it's a plastic trap. So I picked the trap up. The poor mouse clung on with its other paws. When I let it go it crouched for a minute in the long grass before running off. I should have taken it further from the house, I hope it won't come back, but I didn't want to prolong its pain and fear, and I didn't much want to take it out of the trap and hold it in my hand. Unfortunately, there's no way of keeping mice out of an old house like this - too many chinks. And you can't just ignore them or you'd be overrun.
No, we don't set humane traps. Sorry. This will change. Disposing of a dead mouse is one thing, but a frightened little living thing - you identify with it and warm to it. We'll still have to put mouse traps in the attic, because it would be worse to trap a mouse and not visit it within a short time, but downstairs it will be humane traps from now on, even if they do come back in again. *Sigh*
The Sage has had a fabulous week. He bought another item on ebay and visited two more people and phoned another who are not only old friends (truly, the main reason for the visits) but promising contacts for future auctions. He's all happy, which means I am too.
Thursday, 1 October 2009
Z's day goes well
It must be something about me. I bring out the polite in people. It's obviously the worn and haggard looks, as well as the walking stick. Walking pole that is. I know London etiquette of course, don't catch anyone's eye and if you do gaze vacantly as your glance sweeps past so you don't seem to have done it on purpose, and while it's quite all right to hold a door open or say a word of thanks, that's about the limit for normal purposes.
Not only have I had several people offer verbal assistance, one apologised for taking a seat ahead of me, not having noticed me (and there were two seats, he didn't even pinch the one I wanted) and the assistant in Starbucks told me to sit down and he'd bring my coffee. Yes, really. And then, I was waiting at a bus stop, and there were quite a lot of people as it was rush hour, and a chap walked along in a suit jacket and, I thought in a bemused glance, black tights When he stopped and joined the cluster of people waiting for buses. I stole another look and it was leggings, with stirrups (is that what they're called, the little straps going under your feet, my mind is a bit blank), which was almost as bad. He was older than I am, with skinny legs and it was so not a good thing to see, Anyway, the young man next to me murmured "remarkable" and grinned at me. "I shouldn't have looked, really" I murmured back. He must have seen the sweep of my eye and the twitch of my lip, but all the same, quite unexpected.
Mind you, on the bus the person behind me got up (I wasn't able to get a seat at first, then did) to let an elderly man sit down, so it's not just me people are kind to.
The day went well, I did the measuring up etc that I needed to - I do love those flats, it's such a lovely situation where they are. I called in the pub to say hello and beetled off to the British Museum. During the afternoon, I realised I'd left my phone behind and had to trail back again which was a bit stupid, but ho hum. As a result, I didn't go to a second exhibition, but mooched around a bookshop for a bit until closing time, then went for coffee before going back to Liverpool Street.
The Sage had good news during the day, of someone who is interested in selling part of his collection of china next year via us, so he phoned me to tell me about it. I dripped Polyfilla gently over the floor while we enthused together and had to clean up. I was highly gratified to see how clean and cared-for both flats are, I'm really lucky with the present tenants and hope they will stay for a long time.
I bought a smoked salmon salad, fruit salad and red wine at M&S to eat for supper on the train and Dilly was waiting for me at the station.
Not only have I had several people offer verbal assistance, one apologised for taking a seat ahead of me, not having noticed me (and there were two seats, he didn't even pinch the one I wanted) and the assistant in Starbucks told me to sit down and he'd bring my coffee. Yes, really. And then, I was waiting at a bus stop, and there were quite a lot of people as it was rush hour, and a chap walked along in a suit jacket and, I thought in a bemused glance, black tights When he stopped and joined the cluster of people waiting for buses. I stole another look and it was leggings, with stirrups (is that what they're called, the little straps going under your feet, my mind is a bit blank), which was almost as bad. He was older than I am, with skinny legs and it was so not a good thing to see, Anyway, the young man next to me murmured "remarkable" and grinned at me. "I shouldn't have looked, really" I murmured back. He must have seen the sweep of my eye and the twitch of my lip, but all the same, quite unexpected.
Mind you, on the bus the person behind me got up (I wasn't able to get a seat at first, then did) to let an elderly man sit down, so it's not just me people are kind to.
The day went well, I did the measuring up etc that I needed to - I do love those flats, it's such a lovely situation where they are. I called in the pub to say hello and beetled off to the British Museum. During the afternoon, I realised I'd left my phone behind and had to trail back again which was a bit stupid, but ho hum. As a result, I didn't go to a second exhibition, but mooched around a bookshop for a bit until closing time, then went for coffee before going back to Liverpool Street.
The Sage had good news during the day, of someone who is interested in selling part of his collection of china next year via us, so he phoned me to tell me about it. I dripped Polyfilla gently over the floor while we enthused together and had to clean up. I was highly gratified to see how clean and cared-for both flats are, I'm really lucky with the present tenants and hope they will stay for a long time.
I bought a smoked salmon salad, fruit salad and red wine at M&S to eat for supper on the train and Dilly was waiting for me at the station.
Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Z gives an opportunity to go "Ahhh"
I thought you might like a picture of a cat. After all, most readers go all gooey at the sight of a cat photo and, although Dave doesn't, Dave is not here.
Lowestoft made various animal: dogs, cats, swans, cygnets and sheep but they are mostly, apart from some standing dogs, fairly clunky - though the swan and cygnet get away with it - but the cats are lovely. You can hold it in your hand and feel the bones - the modeller had spend a lot of time stroking the factory cats. They are all cast from the same mould, although the positioning and the base has some slight variation, and they come in various catty colours. This is probably the least realistic colouration - when I first saw it I was a bit hmm but it has grown on me. Nevertheless, we won't be bidding. All the same, no representative collection of Lowestoft china is really complete without a cat.
I put in an extra afternoon at a music lesson today as the teacher was going to be away part of the time and it's quite demanding for one teaching assistant or non-music teacher. I was flattered to find she thought I'd be useful and pleased that she felt able to ask. It went well - I stuck to the piano/keyboard as, although I'm reasonably okay with drums I have no idea of guitars, and the piano part was quite tricky for groups of pupils if none of them could read music. I persuaded a couple of lads to have a go who hadn't wanted to (and the other teacher hadn't succeeded) so I felt pretty good about it. They were both absolutely fine and got it right after a few minutes, so I hope they felt a sense of achievement too.
I wanted to go to the exhibition at the Tate tomorrow, so I looked up the route - the Tube was suggested but there's a change at Euston and the escalators aren't working between lines. That's no good, I can't do all those stairs without hobbling for the rest of the day, and it's a bit of a walk at the other end anyway, and then the exhibition as well as another one I want to visit if there's time. So I checked a different route. Reduced escalator service at Green Park. No wonder I hate the London Underground. I don't get claustrophobic or twitchy about bombs, it's all the bloody walking. I looked up buses instead, but the site was fed up with me by then and wouldn't work. So, you know, I can't be bothered. Obviously, it isn't a good idea to go direct from Islington to Pimlico. I'll go to the British Museum instead.
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Z has a high level of function
... according to the copy of the letter from the consultant to my GP, at any rate. I seem to have left him with the impression that I still want to pursue the option of hip resurfacing and that my doctor should expect me to go back to him, so I've just written to the doctor (no need to take up his time with a visit) saying that's not so, that I'm happy with the advice given and thanking him for his own good advice. It's not actually necessary to write, but don't you think that we're quicker to complain than to praise? Doctors must often only hear back if things go wrong, not when they clear up or the status quo accepted.
Tilly is lying on the chair next to me. Every time I looked up, she was gazing at me. To start with, I was quite pleased at the display of affection, but after a while I realised that this is not a Tillyish thing to do. Finally, it occurred to me that my breakfast yoghurt pot was on the table. I gave it to her to lick. She's curled up facing the other way now. She was far too polite to look at it, but just hoped I'd look at her properly and read the message in her eyes. It was very subtle though, she's such a trusting little dog and assumes my mastery of Dog is complete. It is fluent, but I'm not, of course, a native Dog speaker and occasionally the nuances don't get through for a while.
Today, I've mostly been listening to music. With pleasing randomness, I started with Schumann lieder, moved on to Jimi Hendrix and then Ella Fitzgerald.
More importantly, it's not only the birthday of Dave's twin son and daughter, but also Pugsley's third birthday. We've got him a farm set. Happy birthday, darling Pugsley
Tilly is lying on the chair next to me. Every time I looked up, she was gazing at me. To start with, I was quite pleased at the display of affection, but after a while I realised that this is not a Tillyish thing to do. Finally, it occurred to me that my breakfast yoghurt pot was on the table. I gave it to her to lick. She's curled up facing the other way now. She was far too polite to look at it, but just hoped I'd look at her properly and read the message in her eyes. It was very subtle though, she's such a trusting little dog and assumes my mastery of Dog is complete. It is fluent, but I'm not, of course, a native Dog speaker and occasionally the nuances don't get through for a while.
Today, I've mostly been listening to music. With pleasing randomness, I started with Schumann lieder, moved on to Jimi Hendrix and then Ella Fitzgerald.
More importantly, it's not only the birthday of Dave's twin son and daughter, but also Pugsley's third birthday. We've got him a farm set. Happy birthday, darling Pugsley
Monday, 28 September 2009
Z has time to spare
Well, I've signed the petition. Thanks to Ally for the link.
Several things have pleased me in the paper today - Libby Purves, in support of binding pre-nups, referring to marriage as "a good gig" for example, and I laughed most of the way through Caitlin Moran's piece about what age to allow your children to do things such as swear, have a mobile phone, wear earrings and be informed that there are beaches in Normandy where the tide comes in faster than a galloping horse. I can't find it online - maybe they put Times 2 things up later? Anyway, it demonstrates that I don't have quite enough to do with my time today, as I have had time to read the paper. Both papers. I might even do the crossword later.
Of course, I could do a whole lot in the garden, which is a mess, or I could clean the house, in which most surfaces are covered in dust and I could tidy the house, which will just leave gaps in the dust or I could clean the windows, although that will just make the dust more visible. But it's been rather enjoyable to read the papers on a Monday morning.
And, if you do find and read Caitlin's article, I'd just like to mention that Ro, as a child, used to call me Swear Queen. With a certain mild disapproval.
PS - Martina has found the article and sent the link - here Thanks, Martina!
Several things have pleased me in the paper today - Libby Purves, in support of binding pre-nups, referring to marriage as "a good gig" for example, and I laughed most of the way through Caitlin Moran's piece about what age to allow your children to do things such as swear, have a mobile phone, wear earrings and be informed that there are beaches in Normandy where the tide comes in faster than a galloping horse. I can't find it online - maybe they put Times 2 things up later? Anyway, it demonstrates that I don't have quite enough to do with my time today, as I have had time to read the paper. Both papers. I might even do the crossword later.
Of course, I could do a whole lot in the garden, which is a mess, or I could clean the house, in which most surfaces are covered in dust and I could tidy the house, which will just leave gaps in the dust or I could clean the windows, although that will just make the dust more visible. But it's been rather enjoyable to read the papers on a Monday morning.
And, if you do find and read Caitlin's article, I'd just like to mention that Ro, as a child, used to call me Swear Queen. With a certain mild disapproval.
PS - Martina has found the article and sent the link - here Thanks, Martina!
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Sunday
There were some 70 people in church today,more than the last few Harvest Festivals, so that was good. There was a short formal service first, then coffee, breakfast, newspapers and things for the children to do, and then an informal session in the church to finish up. What was particularly a pleasure to me was that there were all ages from small children, teenagers and adults right up to several wheelchair-bound ladies and a gentleman from the village old people's home. It all made for a cheerful and friendly atmosphere and there were a lot of gifts brought for the village schoolchildren to take to the homes of retired people tomorrow (they are invited to ask for this and it's a simple act of friendship). Of course, the children don't go alone.
In the afternoon, Weeza and family, with Ro, came over, and so did Dilly's parents and sister with her sons for Pugsley's birthday party. He won't be 3 until Tuesday and we'll celebrate again then, but several of us will be at work or school then. Pugsley was happily excited and all the children were lovely together. Squiffany organised the boys, as girls do, but none of them minded. Dilly and Al had made a splendid Spiderman cake as well as Shrek's swamp made mainly of green jelly and chocolate mousse.
The catalogue for our next sale is up on the website (link in the sidebar) though it's not been proofread yet and I know there's at least one correction to make. The cat near the end is the star lot.
In the afternoon, Weeza and family, with Ro, came over, and so did Dilly's parents and sister with her sons for Pugsley's birthday party. He won't be 3 until Tuesday and we'll celebrate again then, but several of us will be at work or school then. Pugsley was happily excited and all the children were lovely together. Squiffany organised the boys, as girls do, but none of them minded. Dilly and Al had made a splendid Spiderman cake as well as Shrek's swamp made mainly of green jelly and chocolate mousse.
The catalogue for our next sale is up on the website (link in the sidebar) though it's not been proofread yet and I know there's at least one correction to make. The cat near the end is the star lot.
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Z empowers people
So. I've booked my train ticket for next Thursday. Frugally, I've got the cheapest deal I can which means I'm arriving in London at noon and catching the 8 o'clock train home. After doing what I need to, I'll go to an exhibition, maybe two. Unless anyone is free in the afternoon or early evening? - I'd happily forsake culture for friendship; unless of course we wanted to arrange both.
The church looks lovely. I opened up (the church is always open, but the rooms built on aren't) for people arriving early to decorate, and then went and raided Al's shop for lots of fruit and vegetables. Then I went to the florist. First I chose a bunch of lovely deep red alstroemerias (Dave, I changed the order of the words to make that good English, as originally I'd started with 'lovely') and then I sort of gave up. "Please give me £15-worth of flowers to go with that for an arrangement" I said vaguely, and Susan grinned and did just that. Even better, later I asked Sally to arrange them. I'd already handed over my fruit and veg to other volunteers to put in baskets and whatever. My brain was still not quite in gear. I spent my time sticking down a tarpaulin on the carpet with gaffer tape because of the potato prints which will be made tomorrow, and helping to set out tables and chairs. Undemanding and useful, while others did the real work. I think that is a step ahead. I completely let go - I don't actually find that hard normally but people don't think it's going to happen.
This afternoon, I cooked braised beef with onions and tomatoes, and served it with black kale (the only brassica I grew this year and, netted, it has mostly escaped the caterpillars and the birds) and mashed potato. I feel all proteined-up and really quite relaxed. Time to read the papers and cuddle a dog or a husband, whoever comes within my grasp first.
The church looks lovely. I opened up (the church is always open, but the rooms built on aren't) for people arriving early to decorate, and then went and raided Al's shop for lots of fruit and vegetables. Then I went to the florist. First I chose a bunch of lovely deep red alstroemerias (Dave, I changed the order of the words to make that good English, as originally I'd started with 'lovely') and then I sort of gave up. "Please give me £15-worth of flowers to go with that for an arrangement" I said vaguely, and Susan grinned and did just that. Even better, later I asked Sally to arrange them. I'd already handed over my fruit and veg to other volunteers to put in baskets and whatever. My brain was still not quite in gear. I spent my time sticking down a tarpaulin on the carpet with gaffer tape because of the potato prints which will be made tomorrow, and helping to set out tables and chairs. Undemanding and useful, while others did the real work. I think that is a step ahead. I completely let go - I don't actually find that hard normally but people don't think it's going to happen.
This afternoon, I cooked braised beef with onions and tomatoes, and served it with black kale (the only brassica I grew this year and, netted, it has mostly escaped the caterpillars and the birds) and mashed potato. I feel all proteined-up and really quite relaxed. Time to read the papers and cuddle a dog or a husband, whoever comes within my grasp first.
Friday, 25 September 2009
Z and the Sage were Alarmed
The day didn't start well. I'd woken a couple of times in the night - the last couple of nights I've had a pillow in the bed to rest my leg on and give it some support; this works but then I turn over and my hip wakes me. However, I was pleasantly asleep and dreaming pleasantly when a burglar alarm went off. After a while, i realised it was ours. I got out of bed and peered out of the window. I didn't know that the alarm, which was replaced a couple of years ago, had flashing lights. Quite impressive. "It'll be a mouse," remarked the Sage. "Mm, or a spider," I agreed. I stomped into the bathroom for a robe and went downstairs and the Sage, not bothering with such a nicety, followed.
Of course, when it was time to get up I felt heavy and drowsy, but I did various jobs and left for school. Later, I went to the funeral of an elderly lady who had lived in the village for many years with her husband. She was large and heavy and suffered from diabetes and circulatory problems for some time, and for the last four years she had been afflicted with dementia. Her husband had looked after her lovingly. Back in February, when about to help her into bed, he felt unwell and realised he'd had a stroke. He still managed to get her to bed and the next morning got her breakfast. Then he called the doctor. Far too upsetting for her to have the drama of them both going to hospital in the middle of the night.
He made a good recovery, but had to admit that he couldn't cope while he was convalescing, so she went into a local nursing home. Actually, when I had dinner with friends last weekend the other guests were the couple who own that place. Peter said that the care that Peggy received could not have been kinder or more supportive and, once she'd settled down, he was happy that she was in the best place, close enough for him to visit every afternoon. They were married about 60 years. At the funeral, one of their daughters gave the eulogy, lovingly and movingly - at the end there was applause which is something I haven't come across before, but it was quite spontaneous.
There were lots of people there, and I'd already called on Peter at home and saw him again for a hug, so I didn't go to the bunfight afterwards, but went to the newly-opened garden centre nearby - it's only resited in fact, still under the same ownership. One of Al's customers has taken on the cafe there - she already has a small bakery business and Al and Dilly always buy one of her cheesecakes for celebrations. I went to order lunch and we had a chat, and when she brought my food she said, apologetically, that she recognised but couldn't place me. "I'm Alex's mother". "Of course, I knew I knew you."
I love being able to introduce myself as *member of the family's* mother or wife or granny and seeing someone's face light up.
I still felt pretty stupid all day after the disturbed night; had a migraine this morning and had to search for names at the meeting this afternoon. I had a nap around 6 o'clock and am better now. Didn't help that I aimed my contact lens at my eye and only realised an hour later when I wanted to look at something, that I'd evidently missed. I found it on my computer keyboard this afternoon. I wonder where my spares are. I've certainly got some.
Oh blimey - a programme about The Doors is on and I just caught myself singing along. Showing my age All Over Again.
Dull post. Sorry. If you got this far, my sympathy, but I don't think it'll get better with rewriting. Tomorrow, Z will be decorating the church for Harvest Festival which gives you something to look forward to. Heh.
Still watching the last few episodes of The Wire. I'm probably the last person in the country who is watching it not to have got to the end. Don't tell me what happens.
Of course, when it was time to get up I felt heavy and drowsy, but I did various jobs and left for school. Later, I went to the funeral of an elderly lady who had lived in the village for many years with her husband. She was large and heavy and suffered from diabetes and circulatory problems for some time, and for the last four years she had been afflicted with dementia. Her husband had looked after her lovingly. Back in February, when about to help her into bed, he felt unwell and realised he'd had a stroke. He still managed to get her to bed and the next morning got her breakfast. Then he called the doctor. Far too upsetting for her to have the drama of them both going to hospital in the middle of the night.
He made a good recovery, but had to admit that he couldn't cope while he was convalescing, so she went into a local nursing home. Actually, when I had dinner with friends last weekend the other guests were the couple who own that place. Peter said that the care that Peggy received could not have been kinder or more supportive and, once she'd settled down, he was happy that she was in the best place, close enough for him to visit every afternoon. They were married about 60 years. At the funeral, one of their daughters gave the eulogy, lovingly and movingly - at the end there was applause which is something I haven't come across before, but it was quite spontaneous.
There were lots of people there, and I'd already called on Peter at home and saw him again for a hug, so I didn't go to the bunfight afterwards, but went to the newly-opened garden centre nearby - it's only resited in fact, still under the same ownership. One of Al's customers has taken on the cafe there - she already has a small bakery business and Al and Dilly always buy one of her cheesecakes for celebrations. I went to order lunch and we had a chat, and when she brought my food she said, apologetically, that she recognised but couldn't place me. "I'm Alex's mother". "Of course, I knew I knew you."
I love being able to introduce myself as *member of the family's* mother or wife or granny and seeing someone's face light up.
I still felt pretty stupid all day after the disturbed night; had a migraine this morning and had to search for names at the meeting this afternoon. I had a nap around 6 o'clock and am better now. Didn't help that I aimed my contact lens at my eye and only realised an hour later when I wanted to look at something, that I'd evidently missed. I found it on my computer keyboard this afternoon. I wonder where my spares are. I've certainly got some.
Oh blimey - a programme about The Doors is on and I just caught myself singing along. Showing my age All Over Again.
Dull post. Sorry. If you got this far, my sympathy, but I don't think it'll get better with rewriting. Tomorrow, Z will be decorating the church for Harvest Festival which gives you something to look forward to. Heh.
Still watching the last few episodes of The Wire. I'm probably the last person in the country who is watching it not to have got to the end. Don't tell me what happens.
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