Northumberland beckons....
A moment of madness from the last trip
Back in a week.
Friday, 18 September 2009
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Time Of My Life...
The famous lift in 'Dirty Dancing'
It was 1987, my first year of high school....and this film (and Patrick Swazye) were the hottest items on the planet! One of my classmates went to see it twenty seven times in the cinema. There was not a lot happening in the mid 1980s in Zimbabwe, especially in an all-girls Convent school run by stern German nuns who lived by the rule of "no-nonsense-tolerated-and even-less-freedom-of-thought-allowed". But we got by...
It's sad to see another icon from my youth lose the battle against cancer.
R.I.P.
Monday, 7 September 2009
Birthday Bash
It was my mom's 70th birthday recently. To mark the occasion, B and I splashed out on a private lunch for family at a country hotel in Kent... a manor house that was once home to emminent politicians, writers, Lords and Viscounts, set within 22 acres of rural parkland.
We were seated in the library....surrounded by hundreds of interesting (and probably highly valuable) old books, we munched on
We were seated in the library....surrounded by hundreds of interesting (and probably highly valuable) old books, we munched on
Smoked Ham and Poached Leek Terrine, Apple Chutney
Slow Braised Blade of Beef, Caramelised Carrots, Cocotte Potatoes and Morel JusSharp
Lemon Tart with Lavender Crème Fraiche Ice Cream
And for the children:
Seasonal Fruit Platter with Mixed Berry CoulisRoast Chicken Breast with Potatoes and Seasonal Vegetables
Ice Cream
We had a bottle of bubbly with the starter and tea and coffee was served with a birthday cake I'd ordered and delivered to the hotel early in the morning.
The food was excellent and all in, it was a lovely day, although my dad was taking a bit of strain (this was the day before he was admitted to hospital with the blood clot). My niece, J, loved the experience...."It's all so posh!". Her younger sister was less impressed, stuffing herself on bread rolls then complaining she was "Full from my brain to my toes!", but not suprisingly quickly finding an appetite for ice cream....and the handmade chocolates that came with the coffee.
Happy Three-Score-n-Ten -Years birthday Old Q!
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Back On The Radar
Last week was a tough one. After a good 12-week run with relatively few side-effects, my dad's chemo bit back, and we were reminded of just how delicate the treat/poison balance really is....
He'd been experiencing debilitating chest and shoulder pains that he insisted were nothing more than trapped wind. In fact, he'd developed a dangerous blot clot in his left lung, that thankfully was picked up on his routine scan, and he was whipped into hospital for some hard-core blood thinning treatment. Now safely home, he is fast resembling a pin cushion and will be getting daily heparin jabs for the forseeable future. On the plus side, his oncologist is pleased that the chemo seems to be stopping the cancer from spreading, and he will be carrying on with more cycles with the double-hard-ass stuff as long as he can handle it.
And so we continue....
Emotionally, I feel like I've been whacked over the head with a very big stick. I'd almost gotten used to the fact that my dad was living with cancer and that the future was uncertain. The whole dreadful business had settled into the back of my mind. It's all now just been brought back into focus.
He'd been experiencing debilitating chest and shoulder pains that he insisted were nothing more than trapped wind. In fact, he'd developed a dangerous blot clot in his left lung, that thankfully was picked up on his routine scan, and he was whipped into hospital for some hard-core blood thinning treatment. Now safely home, he is fast resembling a pin cushion and will be getting daily heparin jabs for the forseeable future. On the plus side, his oncologist is pleased that the chemo seems to be stopping the cancer from spreading, and he will be carrying on with more cycles with the double-hard-ass stuff as long as he can handle it.
And so we continue....
Emotionally, I feel like I've been whacked over the head with a very big stick. I'd almost gotten used to the fact that my dad was living with cancer and that the future was uncertain. The whole dreadful business had settled into the back of my mind. It's all now just been brought back into focus.
Sunday, 16 August 2009
Along Came A Spider....
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away
That old nursery rhyme could well have been written for me....if there’s one creature on this planet that reduces me to a shrieking, shivering wreck, it’s the creepy crawly eight-legged variety! I can actually pinpoint the source of my phobia to an incident quite early in my childhood – I can’t have been much older than about 3 at the time. Growing up in Africa, there were spiders aplenty, some pretty nasty ones too....like the baboon spider. This tale involves a pretty harmless brown house spider (“flat spiders” we called them, my parents were always saying they were great for eating the mosquitoes). I was naturally curious about these strange creatures that ran silently along the walls and ceilings. I recall going up to the wall to touch one....then feeling the spider hop onto my hand, run up my arm and down my chest under my dress! By this stage I was screaming hysterically. My mom quickly pulled my dress off over my head and knocked the spider off me. And that was when it all started. I spent the rest of my childhood in living fear of spiders. I had a strong aversion to the “Incy Wincy Spider” rhyme, convinced that it would entice super-sized arachnids to crawl up the drains, push open the bath plug and crawl into the bath with me. The phobia has followed me into adulthood.
Luckily, there are few dangerous spiders in the UK....although a deadly spider related to the Black Widow (the False Widow) that’s spreading across England due to climate change is causing some sensational tabloid newspaper headlines. B is in favour of the “glass and paper” way of dealing with unwelcome visitors, gently letting them go off and explore the garden instead. I’m more of a fan of the Grevious Bodily Harm approach. The only good spider is a dead spider in my opinion....preferably one that’s been pulverised from having just completed 2000 high-speed spins around the drum of a good, strong vacuum cleaner. Kill ‘em and stake their bodies above the door as a warning to any other arachnids contemplating entering our house...
Word obviously got out on the web this last week that, after 7 years of outstanding sucking and spider-slaying service, our faithful old Dyson finally bit the dust with a loud BANG and puff of smoke. Perhaps all those exoskeletons of spiders past clogged its filters. The past couple of days we’ve been invaded with a constant crawl of spiders through our house. First one arrived on Friday night.... a large black one that was lurking with intent on the stairs, just waiting for me to make my usual dozy (and barefoot!) amble up to bed. Saturday morning I opened the curtains....to the delightful sight of a spotty garden spider dangling from the web it had spun overnight across the open bedroom window. Later, I’d just got under the shower when I spied another one that had created an elaborate silk network over the bathroom blind and was skulking in the corner, waiting for breakfast to arrive. And as if these horrors weren’t enough, this evening yet another little monster went scuttling across the lounge floor.....that is probably the most spine chilling experience of all, for me - when a spider comes creeping out from under the couch, past my feet. How long has it been lurking under there, just watching my heels...and what if it had decided to crawl up my leg instead?!!
Happily, our newly acquired Dyson DC25 is even more powerful than the old model and is fitted with a telescopic extension, just right for cleaning the stairs....or indeed long-distance sucking up of scurrying spiders.
Arachnids.....be afraid....be very afraid!
And frightened Miss Muffet away
That old nursery rhyme could well have been written for me....if there’s one creature on this planet that reduces me to a shrieking, shivering wreck, it’s the creepy crawly eight-legged variety! I can actually pinpoint the source of my phobia to an incident quite early in my childhood – I can’t have been much older than about 3 at the time. Growing up in Africa, there were spiders aplenty, some pretty nasty ones too....like the baboon spider. This tale involves a pretty harmless brown house spider (“flat spiders” we called them, my parents were always saying they were great for eating the mosquitoes). I was naturally curious about these strange creatures that ran silently along the walls and ceilings. I recall going up to the wall to touch one....then feeling the spider hop onto my hand, run up my arm and down my chest under my dress! By this stage I was screaming hysterically. My mom quickly pulled my dress off over my head and knocked the spider off me. And that was when it all started. I spent the rest of my childhood in living fear of spiders. I had a strong aversion to the “Incy Wincy Spider” rhyme, convinced that it would entice super-sized arachnids to crawl up the drains, push open the bath plug and crawl into the bath with me. The phobia has followed me into adulthood.
Luckily, there are few dangerous spiders in the UK....although a deadly spider related to the Black Widow (the False Widow) that’s spreading across England due to climate change is causing some sensational tabloid newspaper headlines. B is in favour of the “glass and paper” way of dealing with unwelcome visitors, gently letting them go off and explore the garden instead. I’m more of a fan of the Grevious Bodily Harm approach. The only good spider is a dead spider in my opinion....preferably one that’s been pulverised from having just completed 2000 high-speed spins around the drum of a good, strong vacuum cleaner. Kill ‘em and stake their bodies above the door as a warning to any other arachnids contemplating entering our house...
Word obviously got out on the web this last week that, after 7 years of outstanding sucking and spider-slaying service, our faithful old Dyson finally bit the dust with a loud BANG and puff of smoke. Perhaps all those exoskeletons of spiders past clogged its filters. The past couple of days we’ve been invaded with a constant crawl of spiders through our house. First one arrived on Friday night.... a large black one that was lurking with intent on the stairs, just waiting for me to make my usual dozy (and barefoot!) amble up to bed. Saturday morning I opened the curtains....to the delightful sight of a spotty garden spider dangling from the web it had spun overnight across the open bedroom window. Later, I’d just got under the shower when I spied another one that had created an elaborate silk network over the bathroom blind and was skulking in the corner, waiting for breakfast to arrive. And as if these horrors weren’t enough, this evening yet another little monster went scuttling across the lounge floor.....that is probably the most spine chilling experience of all, for me - when a spider comes creeping out from under the couch, past my feet. How long has it been lurking under there, just watching my heels...and what if it had decided to crawl up my leg instead?!!
Happily, our newly acquired Dyson DC25 is even more powerful than the old model and is fitted with a telescopic extension, just right for cleaning the stairs....or indeed long-distance sucking up of scurrying spiders.
Arachnids.....be afraid....be very afraid!
Saturday, 15 August 2009
Making Hay While The Sun Shines
It's harvest time for the farmers around my village.....
And the wild berries are plentiful....
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
One Man’s Rubbish, Another Man’s Treasure!
I have a good friend, A, who has more than a passing interest in clocks, watches...indeed, anything that goes tick-tock (you can check out his blog). He’s been finding car boot sales are a great, cheap source of old clocks and broken watches and has been trawling the booty down London way this summer. He spent last weekend visiting us (together with his long-suffering and very tolerant wife), so we thought we’d peruse the boot sales in our area...a whole new experience for B and me, as we’re really quite naive about the car boot scene. We were quickly shown the ropes by our hardened bargain-hunting friends. Turns out it’s quite acceptable (even expected) to haggle a bit over the prices and best to appear completely uninterested in an item you are just dying to get your hands on....possibly come back later as sellers may let things go cheaper at the end of the day rather than lug them back home again.
And we weren’t the only ones out bargain hunting on a sunny Sunday morning. Apparently, in recession-hit Britain, car boot sales are at an all-time high. The sharp bite of the credit crunch is prompting people to clear out their homes to make some much needed extra cash, while savvy shoppers hope to pick up goods at a knockdown price. There were loads of sellers and buyers out on Sunday and the early birds do seem to get the good bargains.
Visiting a car boot sale can certainly be a lucrative activity. Last November, a 12 cm vase by French designer René Lalique was bought at a sale in Dumfries. It later fetched £32,500 at auction at Christie’s. And earlier this month, an antique dealer picked up an ornate piece of wood at a car boot sale in West Yorkshire that may well be a 1,300-year-old artefact from the Crusades....the door of a tabernacle, a box used to carry and protect sacred texts, carried by the Knights Templar. If its origins are verified, the unusual item is expected to go under the hammer at Christie's in December.
We weren't quite so fortunate, but nevertheless, two boot sales and four hours of hard bargaining later, we came away with...
- Seven (!) decrepit clocks and a pocket watch for A’s ever growing collection
- A fun kiddie’s clock for the nursery of imminent mini A
- Several books (including some beautiful, brand new leather bound children’s classics that will find their way into my niece’s Christmas stocking)
- A lovely old brass plate for B and my hallway table (perfect for holding keys and other odds n sods)
- A touch of sunstroke (in our haste to grab a good deal we bounded out the house into one of the hottest days of the year without any type of sun protection or water), and
- An old map of Bedfordshire that includes our village and other locals...a reproduction of one drawn by Robert Morden in 1695, that can still be ordered as reprints today for £30. The copy we bought is fairly old itself...we reckon around 1950s/60s as it’s very faded and musty-smelling, which kind of adds to the appeal...but with a new mount and frame, it will look great hanging up in our newly decorated hallway.
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