Cough...Splutter....

This bug is darned annoying! Still, Avie managed to work herself far too hard doing a batch of bread and a chicken-in-a-pot today, leaving me to once again wish you all a very good night...

Plague...Still...

The dread pox is still upon us...coughing and spluttering ahoy!  All is otherwise well, though...

PLAGUE

The cursed Death Fever has struck the house once again; Avie and I are both down with it, though Dad is doing OK at the moment...fingers crossed...

Hopefully normal service returns soon...

A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY

Yesterday was rather a busy day for me by the time I at last collapsed into my neglected bed I was a tired to death. It was a this moment that Pa decided to ask me in which of the three freezers he could find the diced pork., as I had originally asked him to take some out to defrost at around six in the evening I was not amused.

I made my lack of jollity know the the boys and informed them that if two grown men could not between then find a pack of pork dice then it was no surprise that the world was in a total mess!

Time passed and it's passing was accompanied by the slamming of freezer lids and much cursing,then footsteps on the stairs.

With my brain drifting in a fog of tiredness I heard a voice telling me that there was no pork in the freezer. While I knew perfectly well that this was utter rubbish I told the messenger,which happened to be my son to “Just get out some frozen chicken breasts instead.” My voice sounded odd perhaps I was asleep and dreaming all this?

Dinner was to have been a slow cooked spiced pork and fruit dish .this was to have been served with cous cous and naan bread. In the apparent absence of pork chicken would do just as well. More muttering from downstairs culminating a voice calling none to softly to tell me that Pa did not want chicken. My patience at an end I informed the pair of them that I did not give a …....... what they defrosted and to sort it out amongst themselves, I turned over and slept.

Venison.......venison......of all the things they could have defrosted they chose venison!!!

There was not a chance that it would do for the meal I had planned and I was furious, my plan for a simple but tasty meal had vanished and I was left with a packet of stewing venison.

During breakfast,which was merrier than I would have thought possible I decided to make a venison pudding,similar to the rabbit and bacon one I made last week, the boys remarked would “Have to Lump it!”

I looked for the first time at the alleged pack of diced venison, it did not look right, and upon opening the bag I discovered the what I actually had in hand was a pound of very good steak and kidney...and yes, both the boys can read!”

I was delighted as I adore steak and kidney pudding although I seldom get any as my son,who has never tasted it swears that he loathes kidney!

With a small prayer to providence I made the pastry for the pudding, lined the basin, packed it with the meat some sliced onion and a few small mushroom added the stock,.put on a pastry lid and having wrapped it we popped it into a steamer.

Five hours later we were tucking in to a glorious steak and kidney pudding, the suet (duff) pastry was golden and light and tasted delicious served with mushy peas and a good beef gravy.

My son ate his pudding kidney and all then came back for seconds. He said that he was not enamoured of the kidney but he had enjoyed to meal.

Pa too had seconds I was pleased to note, so in the end all was well.

I would like to say that the moral here is to label items in the fridge but it is not, the moral is the read the bloody labels that poor saps such as myself have gone to the trouble to write!!!!!

As I finish tonight’s blog a war is raging downstairs as to weather there is or is not any diced chicken

As a matter of fact there is,I know, because I put it there.

I shall now retire gibbering to the bathroom!

ROTTEN TO THE CORE

This week our local newspaper carried yet another story of fraud and corruption amongst our local councillors and their operatives. Time and again during these last few months there have been sackings, de-selections,investigations and all manner of enquiries in many areas of council business.

Whenever I read of these atrocious goings on the same names crop up over and over again. They are people with whom I have had dealings with over the years and most particularly to do with strange decisions as to planning applications in the conservation area in which I live.

Time and time again I have questioned these people as to why they chose to ignore their own regulations in favour on a wealthy developer. In the past few years we have seen one green space after another built upon and always by the same few names.

I have never once received a straight answer to any of my questions in spite of the fact that I have made it very clear that I more than suspect that the entire Planning Department is up to its neck in

some pretty dirty business. I have uncovered some pretty unholy alliances between council, , land owners and conservation groups, which can only point one way.

I have been outspoken throughout my investigations and I am obliged to wonder why these errant individuals have not even so much as threatened my with the law if I persist. That in itself is odd.

The timing of these latest revelations comes at a time when the my orchard and kitchen garden are about to be bulldozed to make way for yet more houses and parking spaces. This in a borough which constantly trumpets its refusal to allow people to pave over gardens to make car parks or build extensions. Ah ,but they are ordinary people and not super rich developers and others powerful men.

I have never been resigned to loosing the important wildlife site which out orchard contains and now having read the latest in the disgraceful saga I feel that it would be a pity to stop now and then have the truth come out when it is too late.

In the coming months Pa and I face between us a series of major surgical procedures and time is short. Even so I feel I must fight on. I know I am right and just for once it would be nice if right managed to defeat might in a matter such as this.

AVIES DUVET DAY

Things finally caught up with me today and I was obliged to spend the greater part of it in my nice snug bed. I managed to make the ,morning coffee,God knoweth how? Getting out of bed felt like like climbing out of a deep well and it took me a good half hour to pull myself together and actually get the coffee to the boys.

With the house playing host to a game we needed to get moving and the three of us met in the kitchen in various states of disarray at nine thirty. In a rash moment I have promised the boys bacon rolls for Sunday breakfast and although they were willing to release me from my promise I fried of lots of streaky bacon and place a basket of soft breakfast rolls on the table and as they quick;y vanished I was glad I had kept my word.

We tackled the washing up between us and before the first gamer arrived I was safely snuggled under a very soft fleece,where at last I slept.

I woke at three in the afternoon and felt energetic enough to wash my hair and tidy my room a little.

For dinner served up the remainder of a large lamb shoulder which we have yesterday with Dauphinois potatoes. Tonight I served it with mashed potato, five root mash, which included celeriac and mint sauce. The meat thinly sliced was placed in a roasting dish, topped with a rich gravy and the heated in the oven until boiling.

Now seated at my desk I am tired once again and hope that with luck I shall sleep tonight.

Staying awake while writing is a problem these days and while I can fall asleep at my computer or at the dinner table once I get in to bed sleep eludes me until about six in the morning.

For now I am off to watch “Top Gear” with my son. Enjoy your evening.  

SCHOOL DAYS

The Primary School I attended was situated in a small village almost four miles from my home and served the children the Parish. The church a stones throw up the hill was a focal point for both school and village and parochial matters were taken very seriously by all.

The school was divided in to three classes, the babies class,as we called it, here one remained for two years and learned to read write and do sums. The Infants Class teacher was a terrifying old battleaxe,Miss Jones,who ruled with a rod of iron, used a ruler as an instrument of punishment either on the hands or the legs. Feared by all as she was she managed to ensure that even the most backward of her charges could read and write before leaving her tender care.

At the age of seven and with much relief one entered the Juniors class. In the year in which I entered this blessed sanctuary a new young lady teacher had been joined the staff, Miss Morris. She was tall with wavy brown hair, not at all pretty in the conventional sense but very attractive as the mums always said when discussing her attributes.

Slender, bright, clever, twenty four years old and as far as we,her charges were concerned a good deal too strict.

I owe much to this young woman,she encouraged us to use our imaginations, I was a bright child and she recognised this and in the short time I spent in her company I learned to love books, plays, ballet, and drawing. She it was who introduced me to “The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, the child in me has been looking into wardrobes ever since.

One morning after I have been in the juniors class for about six months I was called to the headmasters desk. I was certain that I had done something amiss, and wondered which of my recent misdemeanour’s had been discovered. The Headmaster, Mr Rushton smiled encouragingly and asked me if I would mind sitting at his desk for a while to do some work for him. The headmasters desk was on a raised dais at the top of the Seniors class room and when I looked up the sea of inquisitive faces made me very nervous.

“Pretend they are not there.” he told me “No one will disturb you I give you my word.”

Still puzzled I took up the pencil turned over the top sheet of paper and began to work my way through the sheets.

It was fun,I liked the questions which were not like the work I was given to do by Miss Morris.

I finished half an hour before lunch break and Mr Rushton thanked me and then sent me out in to the playground early as a reward for my hard work.

I did feel odd. Firstly being in the teachers good books was unusual for although my class work was always good I was inclined to be mischievous. Then being out in the playground alone felt very strange, I ran round and round the playground trying to out run a mind full of questions in the same way that I would have run away from a swarm of angry wasps.

Both the children from the seniors class and my own class mates plagued and tormented me for the rest of the day to tell them what it was all about,they did not believe me when I told the I had no idea.

That evening I was given a letter for my parents and my hands shook as I gave my mother the letter. She read it ,she read it again and then she gave me a hug and told me I was a good girl...a most unusual state of affairs.

It was not until the following Monday that I discovered that My form teacher and the Head had been monitoring my work for months and had decided that I should go directly to the seniors class ,where it was felt. I should benefit from a more strenuous regime. I felt this to be a most dubious accolade and foresaw trouble ahead.

I had passed the IQ tests with flying colours and it was felt that I should be held back if I remained in the Juniors class. I was to begin after the Easter Break, there was nothing I could say or do to stop this dreadful event!

Throughout the holiday there were hints of what was to come, my class mates considered me “stuck up”. My future class mates considered me jumped up and the mothers,who seemed to talk of nothing else on the market day bus assured each other that it was unnatural for a girl to be so clever,and that no good would come of it. With this last sentiment I thoroughly concurred.

The dreaded day arrived and I took my place at a double desk at the back of the class and at the end of a row. As we were handed our new books for the term I could here the voices of my friends through the thin wooden partition which divided the two rooms, my best friend, the girl whose desk I had shared though infants was now seated with a new girl who had moved in to the village during the holiday. I felt like an outcast,I felt the tears behind my eyes and knew how shaming those tears would be,

My honour was saved by a fire drill.

I soon settled in to the new routine,I enjoyed the work for I was now doing fractions and decimals as well as composition and comprehension. I wrote story after story and was sent each Friday afternoon to read my stories to the infants and this I loved to do.

One of my duties was to keep the nature table tidy ,another joy as natural history was my passion, Mu teacher Mr Rushton had a seemingly endless supply of books about birds ,and animals ,dinosaurs and evolution and after I had read my way through the school library he supplied me with books of his own. With such encouragement I could not help but do well.

At assembly one morning it was announced that I had won second prize in a National poster competition and was to attend a ceremony to collect my prize in October. October was ages away before then there was the blissfully long summer holiday,six weeks of sunshine and Playing with my little brother.

I went on the last day of term to clear the nature table, most of the items would be thrown away except for the tadpoles who now had legs and had almost lost their tales. These would be returned to the pond from which the spawn had been collected in late March.

A tap on my shoulder made me turn around, it was my best friend Marie,who's loss I was still mourning.

She had been elected to the post of Nature table monitor for the Juniors next year. She held out a bag of sweets and I took one carefully, then she gave me a hug and ran to the door, as I watched she stopped in the arched doorway which was flooding the vestibule with golden light.

“Come on then.” she called “Lets play hopscotch.”

I followed her out in to the afternoon sunshine, I was sure that I had never been so happy, Marie and I were friends again and I had survived my first term in the Seniors.