Oh, My Days!

 What do we think about the aesthetics of knitted crackers? Like these, whose pattern can be found in the December issue of ‘Landscape’ magazine... Firstly, they are recyclable. That’s a good thing, surely? None of that paper waste malarkey. Once a knitted cracker, then a knitted cracker for generations to come! My granddaughters could pass them on to their granddaughters as a quirky treasured heirloom, along with the weary advice that they are not to be destroyed because ‘Granny Denise will know and come back to haunt you.’  And you can fill them with a suitable gift of your choice, so none of that plastic tat waste, either. My gift of choice would be some sort of posh chocolate because it doesn’t clutter up the house afterwards - well not this house anyway.  But knitted crackers don’t ‘crack!’ They make whatever noise wool makes, which in my experience is on the subdued side. Is that a deal breaker? I’m quite happy to do a Margo Leadbetter, you know, from the Christmas episode of ‘Th

 Until today I was very much of the opinion that embroidery was an activity that was deeply absorbing and relaxing. A pastime that could whisk you away into a world free from stress, anxiety and feeling obliged to shout at all the news reports in a manner that suggests to the onlooker that you are thoroughly p***ed off with incompetence of those who profess to lead us.  Until today. Until I set about tackling Module 3 of my Stumpwork course - hands, hats, heads and figures -  armed with these ingredients... ... in an attempt to fashion a pair of teeny, tiny and, it turns out, freaky looking hands. Thus: This was the second attempt. I dare not show you the first attempt because it is imbibed with vibrations of stress, impatience, huffin’ and puffin’, mucho swearing, fiddle faddle and diddly doo, and I fear the photo I took for my portfolio evidence will leak this bad energy into your calm and peaceful evening/ morning/ afternoon/ whenever you are reading this.  Anyway, by the tenth fing

Of course, it’s completely the wrong time to be starting a business, isn’t it, what with how the world is all higgledy piddledy at the moment? Or perhaps it is the right time? The ideal time, in fact, as people reassess their lives, and decide what is important, or valuable to them. Back at the beginning of this year my plan (hahahahahahaha...ha!) was to get my qualification in embroidery and then teach it as a subject. I have already ticked the teaching qualification box - I can plan and deliver a scheme of work, and run a qualification with the best of them - I would just be teaching a different subject, that’s all. And so I am motivated now to complete the qualification, aiming to do so by the end of this year. And I wanted to incorporate writing into the equation somewhere. If the best selling novel contract is to remain elusive, at least I can teach writing and have some fun out of it that way. Add to the cauldron, too, mindfulness / relaxation/ slow living/ whatever else you want

 The four most commonly eaten vegetables, according to research, are : tomatoes, onions, carrots and peas. Tomatoes, of course, are not vegetables - they are fruits. I do not know why, then, they were included in research regarding the most commonly eaten vegetables. It is just this lack of attention to detail that irks me, but really I ought to let it go because there are more important things to fret about in life than categorising tomatoes.  Anyway, I can see why these four are popular. I love tomatoes, peas and onions. I am less in love with carrots unless they are caramelised in sugar and butter which doesn’t happen very often, given I am now entering Month 7 of the Great Fat Drop and I don’t intend to scupper the hard work of the previous six months by scoffing buttery sugary carrots. Home grown carrots, fresh from the ground, are excellent, of course. But supermarket ones always taste slightly soapy to me.  When I was in the first, or maybe second, year of primary school - so I’

  My guitar has made its way up to the Zen Den! That internal voice - you know, the one that nags, mostly because it wants you to do something that is good for you - started pestering me a couple of days ago. ‘Pick up that guitar you bought,’ said the voice. ‘Take it up to the Zen Den and learn a few chords so you can strum out a few Christmassy songs by the end of the year.’  Needless to say, I ignored the Internal Voice because I really do not like being told what to do. Odd, given I was such a bossy child, and to be honest, I have to fight really hard against being a bossy adult, too. I don’t know why I have such a stubborn streak, either. Mostly, it has served me well over the course of my life. Occasionally it has got me into trouble. I shall always strive to do things my way, though. To be honest, I should go and live in a cabin in the woods, shouldn’t I? Such a grumpus....sigh..... Anyway, it turns out the Internal Voice is more persistent than I anticipated and thusly, to shut

 It had to be done. It’s dull, grey and rainy. It is cold. I kept warm this morning by getting on my hands and  knees and giving the kitchen floor a much needed scrub of its limestone tiles. Proper little Cinderella I was, but without the promise of a posh frock and an evening of dancing. But this afternoon, settled on the sofa with my knitting (because what else does one do on a grim October day?) I could tolerate the shivering no more and... ...yup, I lit the wood burner. As you can see, Bambino is very appreciative. Only rabid hunger will move him from that spot now. Flora is ensconced up the other end... ...that’s where I was sitting. But as soon as I moved to make up the fire, she was onto the warm spot like a heat seeking missile. And she won’t give up that prime piece of sofa space now, either. I’m a slave to those cats, honestly I am. Oh, but it’s lovely to have a fire going! Cosy days, here we come! Back to my knitting...

 Spot of gardening this morning. There really is nothing like being outside in a bit of sunshine (no matter the accompanying chilly winds) to keep one’s brain loaded with the cheerful chemicals. I started the Great Leaf Sweep 2020 - not a huge amount at the moment, but give it a fortnight and we’ll be knee deep in the things, I have no doubt. Thirty one trees produced a lot of leafage. It wasn’t something we considered when viewing Damson Cottage on a sunny day in late March 2016... And then I gave the hedge that divides our neighbours’ front garden from ours a light trim. And then I gave the grass verge either side of our driveway entrance a heavy duty trim. It was that or buy a taller car so I can see over the top of the undergrowth. Usually the local farmer deals with grass verge and hedge trimming along the roadside but he’s being a bit lax this year. Unless he turns up to do it tomorrow, in which case I’ve been a bit keen. Gave the various lavenders a hair cut, too. They’ve been m

  You know those times when you feel mildly discombobulated and you can’t quite work out why? So you start looking for discombobulation triggers because although ‘discombobulated’ is a jolly fun word to say, as a feeling it sits there alongside being aware of that seam from your thick woolly tights that you are sitting on, or wishing you’d popped into that loo you passed fifteen minutes ago because you know you’ll get fidgety at an inconvenient moment. Or that feeling when you know you’ve forgotten to do something, but you’re not quite sure what.  After some serious thought I believe my discombobulations are triggered by one of the following: 1) talking to someone and realising you are being ignored in favour of a TV, phone, other electronic device of their choice. Or they are hearing you, but completing ignoring your input to the conversation 2) things not being where they should be e.g supermarkets moving stuff around on shelves, scissors being in the wrong drawer, stuff like that 3)

 No idea why, but I was thinking about bears today. Here’s a bear and a half... ...he’s called 747, after the huge Boeing airplane. He is currently residing in Alaska’s Katmai National Park and has been declared the Fattest Bear, which is good because he’ll have a jolly good chance of surviving hibernation.  And so I was thinking about who should be given the title Best Bear of All Time. I’m excluding personal bears here, because we all think our own teddies are the best. I am thinking of famous bears, celebrity bears, if you will.  So we have Paddington, created by the marvellous Michael Bond. Paddington, of course, has been ricocheted to fame in the previous few years following the release of two rather excellent films, namely ‘Paddington’ (unoriginal, but does what it says on the tin) and ‘Paddington Two’ which is even less inspirational as a title, but again, why should it be anything else. I love ‘Paddington Two.’  Then there is that perennial favourite, Winnie the Pooh, and his c

It is said that you learn something new every day. My belief is that if you find you are heading towards the end of a day and you HAVEN’T learned anything new, then you should jolly well seek out a new thing to learn and go to bed with a bit more knowledge than that with which you woke.  Today, I learned about something called fluffernutter. And I wish I hadn’t. Of course, those of you from across the pond called Atlantic will be thinking, ‘She’s never heard of fluffernutter? Where has she been for the last 54 years of her life?’ And I shall respond, ‘Being blissfully unaware of fluffernutter, that’s where,’ because now I AM aware, I feel scarred for life.  This is fluffernutter... Do you want to have a guess? Poo and partially cooked egg white, that’d be my guess if someone stopped me in the street and wafted that in my face. Oh, but it gets worse. In order to create fluffernutter, one has to apply the substance on the left to the substance on the right. The substance on the left bein

 Here I am, wafting along through October, enjoying a calm before an anticipated storm. Of course, there may NOT necessarily be a storm but isn’t that how the Pattern of Life happens - peaks and troughs, ups and downs, calms and storms? Regardless, I’m making the most of these settled times where I can potter through my days doing a bit of this, some of that and a smidgeon of the other. And thus was the rhythm of today. The mincemeat was cooked up and stored yesterday... ...six delicious jars! It smells gorgeous and I’m looking forward to turning it into various pies and puddings as the cold, dark days close in. It’s a few weeks yet until Stir Up Sunday when I shall make the Christmas Pudding. Usually, I use ye ancient family recipe passed down through the maternal side of my family, but this year I am going rogue, oh yes I am! I’ve found a mediaeval recipe in a spelt cookery book which I am keen to try. Just don’t tell my Mum that I am rejecting the traditional family recipe this year

  Apparently, it is Mad Hatter Day today. I don’t know what this means. He’s not my favourite ‘Alice’ character. I’m a bit of a Cheshire Cat person myself. With a soft spot for the Queen of Hearts, mostly because she has a bit of gumption, a bit of character and I am prone to Queen of Hearts behaviour  sometimes. But not as much as I used to be. Have neither the energy nor inclination. Anyway, by popular demand, here is the recipe I used for the Carrot, Orange and Ginger jam I made yesterday. As I said, I halved the recipe but feel free to mix up a vat of the stuff using the full recipe below, if you think you’re hard enough! I suppose a lot of it will depend upon whether you will grate everything by hand (as I did) or whether you’ll set about it with some magical grating machine. Here we go... Ingredients: Full recipe 1.5 kg carrots, peeled and grated 3 onions, peeled and grated 6 tablespoons of fresh root ginger, peeled and grated (I used the blocks of frozen ginger you can buy - muc

Goodness, but I was in a proper fuggy bog over the weekend. I started off on Saturday morning all energy and cheerfulness, caught up in planning my Grand Pickly Cook Up and having a girly catch up chat with Darling Daughter, but come lunchtime I was slipping into full zombie mood. So I parked myself on the sofa in front of a couple of films and knitted my way through the grumps. One of the films was ‘The First Wives’ Club’ with Diane Keaton, Bette Midler and Goldie Hawn. It’s a good film and I love Goldie Hawn. She’s one of my Top Five Gals of All Time. Such a babe. Anyway, I made the best of a miserable mood, had an early night, and decided Sunday would be different. And it was. Just about. I did loads of writing, including the first 1600 words of this year’s Christmas Story. I avoided cooking, save for knocking up some scrambled egg at lunchtime and an apple crumble for dinner. Yup, forget the first course - straight to pudding on a Sunday evening. Such a renegade, eh? Did some more

  I have arrived at the Club Tropicana Room in Much Malarkey Manor, which can mean only one thing - the hens have called an urgent meeting but they aren’t quite ready to give up their sun bed session just yet. ‘Well,’ says Mrs Pumphrey, resplendent in a scarily insy-winsy-teeny-weeny-purple-sequinned-with-feather-accessories-bikini, ‘one should never give up Summer without a fight. You know what they say, don’t you?’ ‘No, I don’t,’ I reply.  Mrs Pumphrey hauls herself from the sun bed upon which she is reclining (Gas Mark 4, turn over and baste at 90 minutes) and adjusts her bosoms. ‘They say,’ she begins darkly, ‘that once Autumn arrives it will mess with your muckle in a mickle if the plumage is bronzed too low.’ Do you know, I can’t even bother to argue. They’ve already called me away from some very important writing in order to attend this meeting - ‘Be at the Club Tropicana Room at 9 sharp - drinks are free’ - so I want their nonsense over and done with as soon as possible so I ca

 At work this week, we made some jars of mincemeat. This mincemeat, in fact... ...the plum and russet mincemeat from the River Cottage Handbook 2 - Preserves by Pam Corbin, a copy of which I have at home. Well, the cooking smells from making this mincemeat at work were sooooo bloomin’ amazing (like sticky spicy Winter sunshine in a jar) that I have decided to make a batch myself at home, in preparation for the making of the mince pies at the Christmas time! It can also be used as a filling for baked apples etc. And this has put me in mind to go the whole hog on the preserves front and cook up a selection of the other pickle, jams and marmalade recipes I’ve seen recently and thought, ‘Oooh, that looks rather fab!’ These include : red onion marmalade, spicy carrot pickle and, because the greenhouse is bursting with almost ready chillies, some sweet chilli jam.  I think pickle, jam and marmalade making is an activity that is perfect for these increasingly colder, darker days. I’m not a fa

Here’s the latest set of stamps issued by the Royal Mail. Or is it the Post Office? I never know what to call it these days, the service that collects the post from the red boxes and then delivers it to wherever it is going, hopefully without too much diversion or delay. Anyway, aren’t they a lovely set... I especially like the carder bee one, but then I have a huge soft spot for bumbles. I’d have one for a pet if I thought Bambino wouldn’t attempt to have it on toast for elevenses. My iron died this morning. I had a modest pile of ironing to do, wouldn’t take long. So I made a Ninja dash to the supermarket for the minimal weekly shop, came home, made scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast and then thought, right, get this ironing done and out of the way. No such chance. Plugged it in. Dead as the fox I passed on my way home from the supermarket, lying prone on the grass verge, poor thing.  Now, I don’t know how old this iron is, but it did have an old fashioned plug on it, you know, th

 Of course, you know why we had a hot and sunny day today, don’t you? It’s because I’ve just placed an order for a huge pallet of Blazers Fire Logs, that’s why, because Monday was so chuffing cold I had to crank up the heating. It’s like washing the car will make it rain and letting the housework slide will make your mother drop by unexpectedly. Ah well, the logs needed ordering, because Winter will arrive before long and the wood burner will be called into action once more. But what a glorious 1st October! It’s 5 p.m and I’ve just taken this photo from the side kitchen window... Long shadows from the oak trees that form a green avenue along the road. And this one from the front kitchen window... As you can see, the sun is appearing over the yard arm to the left (I’ve no idea what a yard arm is...something nautical, I believe) and will soon vanish into the horizon to the right, and the world will be dipped in twilight in another two hours or so.  And this was taken from the back door..