Random Distractions

Book giveaway

2012-01-25T22:16:00.000Z

Publishers HarperCollins have kindly sent a copy of 77 Shadow Street by Dean Koontz to be given away on Random Distractions. I am not the best person to offer a review of this book because I don't usually read science fiction, fantasy or horror stories and this book contains all of those elements. But I did read it and will say a few words about it, making no claims to do justice to what I am sure is an excellent example of this genre of fiction. I must say that I soon began to enjoy it and I could be heading to the library, in the near future, to see if they have any other books by Dean Koontz

Author: Dean Koontz

Published by Harper Collins in January 2012

451 pages

Price £18.99

Shadow Hill is the highest point in an unidentified heartland city. The hill and Shadow Street that was built on it were so named because of the shadows of trees and buildings that were cast on sunny afternoons, creeping up the hill as evening progressed until they met the night at the summit.

Number 77 Shadow Street was built in 1889, the very grand home of billionaire Andrew North Pendleton. At that time, the house was called Belle Vista, and the Pendleton family - Andrew, his wife Margaret and their two young children - lived there happily until tragedy struck in 1897. Margaret and the children disappeared. It was presumed that they had been abducted but they were never found; Andrew became an eccentric recluse and eventually committed suicide. Therein lies the first mystery connected with the house.

The next owner of Belle Vista was Gifford Ostock, who lived there between 1905 and 1935. One night in December 1935, the butler slaughtered the whole family and all of the live-in staff before killing himself. The butler left an incoherent note claiming to have killed them all in order "to save the world from eternal darkness." Although sixteen people died, only eight bodies were found.

The house was owned next by Harmon Firestone, who died peacefully in his sleep in 1972. Belle Vista was then purchased for development into twenty-three luxury apartments but the conversion work was disrupted a year later, when a number of the tradesmen and craftsmen working there left their jobs because of strange happenings which they refused to discuss. The apartments were eventually completed and the building renamed as the Pendleton, the most exclusive set of apartments in the town.

For more than thirty years, the Pendleton has been a peaceful and luxurious home to the wealthy, some famous, some infamous and some simply hard-working or fortunate enough to be able to afford to live there. It is now December 2011 and the peace is beginning to be disturbed. There are strange noises and glimpses of ghostly figures, the walls seem to be alive and there are menacing rumblings from deep inside the hill below the Pendleton.

Silas Kingsley lives in apartment 3-C. He has spent his years of retirement studying the history of Belle Vista/the Pendleton. He has noticed a link between the mysterious events of the past: they have occurred every 38 years and the last known incident was in 1973, exactly 38 years ago. He realises that the odd things that are happening in the building now are leading to some terrible tragedy unless he can unravel the mystery in time and save the residents.

To find out about the other residents and what happens to them, to be led into the mystery of 77 Shadow Street and the horrors awaiting them and the rest of the world you must read the book. It is a gripping read and I advise you to keep the lights on and to beware of shadows. You could buy a copy from Amazon or download it to your Kindle or you could leave a comment here and have a chance to win a copy.

You don't have to be a fantasy or science fiction lover to enjoy 77 Shadow Street. And you don't have to be a regular reader here to enter the book draw. Just leave a comment, saying that you would like to enter and I will draw a winner on Wednesday 4 February.

A scary story

2012-01-24T12:34:00.001Z

Granddaughter Amelia, known as Millie, is now three and a very important three-quarters years old. Like all members of our family, she loves books and she is beginning to read and write independently but her skills can't yet keep pace with her imagination and desperate need to communicate. Mummy is frequently called on, therefore, to act as her amanuensis when Millie wants to dictate a story.

This morning, the postman brought her latest masterpiece, addressed to Grumpy, the grandchildren's name for my husband. First, the accompanying card:

And now for the story. Be warned that Millie is no sugar and spice child. She likes her stories to have a touch of drama and sometimes quite shocking endings!

We are building a collection of her work as an investment for our future. When Millie is an established novelist, we will cash in on her "early work."

Perfecting my punctuation

2012-01-11T18:45:00.000Z

I have to admit to being something of a punctuation bore. I tut when I see a misused apostrophe or hyphen, I like to use colons and semicolons and yes, I punctuate my text messages. I know that there are many fellow sufferers out there, risking stomach ulcers and anxiety attacks on every trip to the local shopping centre. I bet we each own a copy of Lynne Truss's Eats, Shoots and Leaves and I also bet that most of us are past the first flush of youth, having benefited from a good grounding in English grammar at school.

While this is a subject very close to my heart, I have resisted writing about it for fear of making some glaring error and having ridicule heaped upon me by my discerning readers! I know that I don't know everything but I don't know what I don't know. However, I have just received a book to review that is about to change all that and I wish I could afford to buy a copy for everyone who loves the English language.

Can You Eat, Shoot and Leave? by Clare Dignall is a must-have book for everyone: from the reader or writer with a good grasp of punctuation to the poor soul who went to school in the last twenty years and has never heard of it. It is as entertaining as it is informative and is available from Amazon.

There is a brilliantly funny foreword by Lynn Truss and then the book begins with a light-hearted quiz to establish the reader's level of competence in matters of punctuation. I turned out to be someone with a grasp of how punctuation works but with a few obsessive tendencies. There does, however, appear to be hope for me if I persevere with the exercises.

Each chapter deals with a specific point: the apostrophe, the comma, the colon and semicolon; then on to expressive marks - the exclamation mark, question mark, quotation marks, italics, dashes, brackets and the ellipsis - and, finally, the hyphen. Everything is presented in a clear and simple way with lots of humour. Michael Gove could improve education standards overnight by appointing Clare Dignall as chief advisor to schools!

I didn't make 100% in the exercises but I learned quite a lot, including some interesting differences between punctuation in UK English and US English. I haven't mastered all my new-found knowledge yet but I have my copy of Can You Eat, Shoot and Leave? right here beside my laptop and it will soon be well-thumbed. I see it is advertised as a Workbook, meaning that we are expected to write in it but that would upset my equilibrium too much!

Watch out! The Panda could be heading your way to give you a punctuation workout.

New Year

2012-01-02T12:23:00.000Z

2011 was not the best of years for me, with many deaths and some health issues to deal with but it ended on the highest possible note with the birth of granddaughter Elizabeth Orla. The new year promises to be filled with activity, we are already booked for babysitting at the end of January, and there is nothing quite like a full diary to keep away the gloom.

Susan Coolidge (1835 -1905) is probably best known for her children's novels, especially the "Katy" books. I have recently discovered that she also wrote poetry and this seems an appropriate choice for the beginning of the year:

New every morning

Every day is a fresh beginning,

Listen my soul to the glad refrain.

And, spite of old sorrows

And older sinning,

Troubles forecasted

And possible pain,

Take heart with the day and begin again.

Happy New Year to you all. May 2012 be a happy, healthy and peaceful year for you and yours.

Season's greetings

2011-12-21T08:59:00.000Z

I'm off today to spend the holiday season with my children and grandchildren. The presents are wrapped, the christmas cake, mince pies, pudding and ham all carefully stowed in the car and all that remains is for me to wish you all a very happy and peaceful Christmas and New Year. I'll leave you with one of my favourite Christmas songs from 1977, with the unlikely but very successful combination of Bing Crosby and David Bowie:

Recycled Christmas

2011-12-15T09:31:00.000Z

I was looking through a box of old family photographs and found some pictures of infant school days. The top class of seven year olds always performed the nativity play. The costumes were carefully packed away each year and used again.

Here is the nativity play of December 1952, with me as the angel Gabriel:

and here, five years later, is my little brother as Joseph:

Every year, someone's baby brother was brought in to play the part of the infant Jesus. I must say that these two look so similar that I am inclined to think they must have packed the 1952 babe away to recycle in 1957!

Here is a full cast picture but from which year?

The school closed many years ago and I suppose the costumes were disposed of along with the plasticine, the enamelled cups and the wooden slide that linger strongly in my memory. This afternoon three year old Millie will be a king in her kindergarten's nativity play. Recycling in action!

There was a little girl who had a little curl

2011-12-10T08:44:00.000Z

She was more than a week late in arriving but she is lovely and the first member of the family to be born with a fine head of hair! Welcome to Elizabeth Orla.

The lost art of waiting

2011-11-22T23:27:00.000Z

As I will be away for the first week of Advent, I thought I would dig out a post I wrote a couple of years ago. Not much has changed: my friend, D and I still brave the perils of the Link road to visit each other and we are all still too busy for our own good! I will be taking the Paula Gooder book with me and hope to havea little time to spend in contemplating its wisdom.

So, here's one I wrote earlier, in 2009

Tomorrow I'm going to visit my dear friend D of 60 going on 16. I live in North Devon, which is connected to the Rest of the World by the notorious North Devon Link Road. D lives just across the border, in the Rest of the World so, dear reader, I will be taking my life in my hands for the sake of friendship, just as D does when she comes to visit me.

The Link Road was built in the late 1980s to divert the ever-increasing holiday traffic from the villages along the old A398 route to the coast. The planners did not take into account the fact that a faster road would attract even more traffic and they built a wide single carriage road instead of a decent dual carriageway. In consequence, instead of a pleasurable drive through some stunning farm and moorland scenery, one risks life and limb amid the boy racers and impatient business men and women who aim to get from Barnstaple to Tiverton in record time.

I used to drive this route several times a week and frequently had to pull onto the hard shoulder to avoid a head-on collision with someone doing a reckless overtake in the other direction. Road blocks, diversions and piles of floral tributes are frequent reminders of lives lost and families devastated by moments of careless impatience. One traffic policeman told me that the maximum time that can be gained by driving faster than the 60mph speed limit on that road is 10 minutes. J Alfred Prufrock measured out his life with coffee spoons, that seems to me a less trivial epitaph than 'I traded 50 years of my life to save 10 minutes.'

This sombre and rambling preamble is leading to an explanation for my recent absence from the blogging scene! My internet connection was intermittent during the recent stormy weather but that, I hope, is now passing. What has really kept me away from the keyboard is this book:

The Meaning is in the Waiting

The Spirit of Advent

by Paula Gooder

It is one of the books that I took to Spain and I used it for my daily reflection. In it, Paula Gooder sets out to "stimulate you to think a little more about waiting: why we do it, what it feels like to be someone who waits, what happens when we don't wait and why God might want us to get better at it." She doesn't offer answers but opens up questions and suggests new ways of looking at things.

I was so inspired by the book that I used it as the basis for an Advent preparation day that I was organising for my parish. While the religious context is obvious, everyone who attended on Saturday agreed that the ideas were relevant to all areas of life and that our impatient society would benefit from rediscovering the art of waiting. (If anyone would like a copy of the study notes that I prepared, I would be happy to send them as a Word document email attachment or to mail them.)

The title, The meaning is in the waiting, is taken from the poem Kneeling by the poet-priest R. S. Thomas. When the group I led began to think about major events in their lives, they were able to see how true this was: the preparation and anticipation of a wedding, a birth or a visit can hold more meaning for us than the actual event, which can seem like an anti-climax, lost in a frenzy of activity. This can be especially true of Christmas Day when getting the house ready, shopping and cooking can leave us too exhausted to appreciate the day itself. The whole of December can be lost in frantic, bustling preparation or it can be a time of active, productive waiting.

Advent is a paradox: we wait for an event that has already happened. I fear that we are losing our sense of awe and wonder and our ability to accept and appreciate mystery. I can live very happily with paradox, I don't want the whole of life to be rationalised but I do appreciate the way that Paula Gooder presents us with a way of seeing the waiting that connects the past, the end times and the present. This is one of those rare books that I have encountered in my life that leaves me feeling that I may not understand something but I somehow know it.

She uses another piece of poetry, from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Aurora Leigh:

Earth's crammed with heaven,

and every common bush afire with God;

But only he who sees, takes off his shoes -

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

She has convinced me that I want to spend Advent without my shoes, appreciating the opportunity to wait in hope and thoughtful anticipation so that, come Christmas, those blackberries or, more likely cranberries, will taste the sweeter.

Here is a gift I had from the longest-serving friend of my youth. It is a rare image of the pregnant Mary, from a 14th century wall painting; a true picture of waiting in joyful hope:

I will be using this, alongside the Advent wreath, to aid my Advent reflections.

A grandparents' cottage

2011-11-22T12:09:00.001Z

The fourth grandbaby is due to be born on Friday. We are setting off tomorrow so that we can be on hand just in case the baby decides to put in a surprise appearance. We are renting a cottage in a village just outside Bristoland I rang the owner this morning to arrange to collect the keys. When I told her the purpose of our visit she was stunned. Apparently the last four couples who have stayed in the cottage were there to await the arrival of grandbabies! I am going to suggest that she asks each of us for a photograph of the babies so that she can make a feature of this unusual use of her cottage.

Photos of baby and the village where we will be staying when I get back. I'll take my laptop but don't know if I will be able to get online. Just when I had started to catch up on my blog visits, too!

Operation Christmas Child

2011-11-18T08:20:00.001Z

Unless you are a banker or of independent means, you are probably feeling the pinch right now. My biggest grumble is at the cost of fuel, I watch open-mouthed as the numbers ratchet up at the petrol pump and the forecast for gas and electricity bills this winter is enough to make me seek out the smelling salts. However, I know that, while I may have to think carefully about spending, I'm not going to be cold or hungry and there will still be a lot of family cheer at Christmas. Not so for everyone though: for some the current economic difficulties are really hurting and Christmas will bring no cheer at all.

Ever since Vera Lynn ruined Christmas for me back in the 1950s with her song about the little boy that Santa Claus forgot, I have supported children's charities at Christmas time.

I first read about Operation Christmas Child on Rattling On a couple of years ago. You fill a shoe box with treats for a child and it is delivered to someone who really needs it. It is easy and fun to do. The charity suggests the kind of things you should make or buy. It costs very little but brings a lot of pleasure to both giver and recipient. But this year I almost missed it! With my internet problems and preparing for my imminent departure for the arrival of grandchild #4, I hadn't got round to making anything or even acquiring shoeboxes. No problem! This year, I discovered, you can pick and mix items on the charity's website and they will fill the shoeboxes for you.

I will still be haunted by that little boy that Santa forgot come Christmas morning but at least I will know that a couple of boys will have a nice little box of goodies to open. A little less sadness and disappointment in the world is no bad thing. If you would like to know more about Operation Christmas Child, follow the link.

How long is a piece of yarn?

2011-11-15T12:22:00.001Z

My internet problems appear to be over and I am attempting to get back to blogging. While confined to the real world, I have been busy. The giant skein of yarn that I pictured below has been put to good use and here is what it produced.

Three scarves

Two pairs of fingerless mittens

One baby hat

And one bit of yarn left over for playing cat's cradle!

Not a bad return for less than ten pounds and it has kept my fingers busy while the keyboard has been useless.

What I did with my time

2011-10-24T17:00:00.001+01:00

My internet problems appear to have been resolved - it was difficult to type that with all my fingers crossed! So what have I been doing for six weeks instead of reading all my favourite blogs and writing the occasional post? I am pleased to say that I am way ahead of myself with Christmas makes. I have three large boxes full of jams and chutneys, I made three capes for the grandchildren, a warm woolly jacket for Benjamin, a tiny lacy jumper for the new baby (coming soon!), several scarves and mittens for great nieces and nephews. And I read many more books than usual. Perhaps I should write and thank BT for all the time I saved.

Here are a few of the goodies:

I had planned to make a Little Red Riding Hood cape but when I saw this lovely sparkly Christmas fabric in the store I decided to make reversible capes. I hope the children will find them very versatile. The two girls will have red and cream and Benjamin will have a more wizardly green.

They are hanging beside my desk and I keep turning to look at them in amazement that I have three finished items and October isn't over yet.

I bought the wool for this sweater from a local farm that rears rare breed sheep. It is beautifully soft and warm. Then, on a much cheaper note, I found these giant balls of Aran wool in the nearby town. I think everyone will be having scarves and gloves for Christmas. (I put the paperback alongside to give an idea of the size of the skeins. Each weighs 400g)

I'm off again tomorrow for a few days but this time it will be on a visit to Adelephant and the children and not because I can't get online. See you soon.

My super fast broadband

2011-10-15T23:51:00.000+01:00

Why didn't they leave it alone? It was slow but it was steady. Over the last six weeks or so, we have had hours, days and even 2 full weeks without internet connection. But can we get any information from BT? Ring the helpline and you find yourself in a queue with a recorded message telling you they are unusually busy (not that unusual!) and you should try again later. You could, the pleasant voice tells you, find the help you need by clicking on to their website. I know...... yelling at a recorded message that you haven't got internet access and that's why you are calling does no good but it can't really be resisted. By the fourth day of trying to get through the yelling gets louder and more colourful.

Eventually, during one of the brief periods when the broadband came back to life, I had an email from BT explaining that we have now been upgraded to superfast broadband and that, after a period of ten days when we might experience some loss of connection, the new system would stabilise and our broadband experience would be wonderful.

We had no connection today between 10.00am and 11.00pm. I'm writing this hurriedly before going to sleepor getting cut off again. I was supposed to be writing a post about food for Blog Action Day tomorrow but I may not get it posted. Lots of other people around the world will be writing about food so I hope you will all be reading what they have to say, even if I can't.

Ho hum!

Holiday at home

2011-10-12T16:48:00.000+01:00

I have had such problems with my internet connection for the past few weeks that I haven't managed to post anything. I have lost several attempts but managed to salvage this. The wonderful weather we had at the end of September is now a distant memory but we really did have a brief Indian summer. We have been promisd that all our broadband cables have been upgraded and that we will be having a much better service from now on - let's see if it works!

I could have called this post "My staycation" but there are certain neologisms that don't make it past my vocabulary filter. I had almost decided that "summer" was about to find a place at the other end of said filter, among the obsolete words and phrases, when the sun began to shine and a heatwave hit us for a whole week!

We had a guest who was making her first visit to Devon and she was as welcome as the sunshine because she made us see our area through fresh eyes. We realised that we had become blasé about the beautiful places around us and it was invigorating to explore them with such an enthusiastic companion.

Here are some of the places we went to during the glorious week at the end of September. I have to confess it was a whistle stop tour of the area but we did manage to show Ann most of the North Devon beaches. As well as a brief tour of Exmoor National Park. We covered the coast from Lynmouth to Appledore, with many walks, coffee stops, lunches and afternoon teas on the way.

Click on the map to enlarge.

Tuesday
We spent the afternoon viewing our nearest beaches, Saunton Sands and Croyde Bay.

Saunton Sands

Croyde Bay

With very few holiday makers around, we had quiet roads and even quieter beaches. Bliss!

Wednesday
We headed to the other side of the bay (called Barnstaple Bay by those of us who live on this side and Bideford Bay by those who live on the other!). We had morning coffee on Fremington Quay
before driving on through Instow to Appledore.

Appledore, looking across to Instow

Then on to Westward Ho! to sit on the promenade eating seaside chips.

Westward Ho!

Thursday
A morning exploring Exmoor, getting covered in mud as we tramped across a boggy field to climb to a viewing point. It was worth the mess because we had panoramic views of Exmoor all around us, Dartmoor in the distance on one side and Bodmin Moor on the other.

Exmoor

Then on to one of the most beautiful places on Exmoor. Watersmeet is the place where the East Lyn River meets Hoar Oak Water in one of the deepest river gorges in Britain. It is part of the South West Coastal Path owned and managed by the National Trust.

Watersmeet

It was very difficult to tear ourselves away from this lovely, peaceful place but we had more places to show our visitor and off we went to Lynmouth and Lynton and the Valley of the Rocks.

Well, I am going to have to try to finish this account tomorrow. It is taking so long to upload photos that I have run out of time. BT assured us that the new system will stabilise in about 10 days, that was 5 days ago so perhaps .................

Townies!

2011-09-12T18:12:00.000+01:00

I have lived in Devon for 22 years and I am still, and probably always will be, regarded as an "incomer." I have spent many hundreds of pounds in the local grocery store but have not yet received even a hint of recognition by the owner, who is likely to keep me waiting for ten minutes while he chats to real villagers. I don't worry about it, I know that things could be much worse: I could be treated like a grockle! A grockle is a holiday maker, someone to be overcharged for goods and sent in completely the wrong direction when lost.

Some recent events, though, have made me a little more sympathetic to local attitudes. A few weeks ago, a certain Mr Copp, on holiday with his family, went for a walk around the small harbour in Ilfracombe.

It is quite a pretty place and it is always interesting to see the fishing boats landing their catch or preparing to sail. Unfortunately, Mr Copp did not find it to his taste.. In fact, he was so incensed at seeing crates of dead fish waiting to be loaded onto a fishing boat to be used as bait that he went to complain to the Harbour Master. According to Mr Copp, his children had been left quite distressed by the ordeal. Somehow the harbourmaster managed not to laugh as he explained to Mr Copp that this was a working harbour and that the sight and smell of fish was quite commonplace on the quay.

Mr Copp was not to be placated. He contacted our local newspaper: "It's not the sort of thing you want to see on holiday, he said. "My children were quite distressed. These people should be a bit more considerate to the holidaymakers."

The people of Ilfracombe and around are still laughing at the goings on of "thikky grockle". The outcome of another incident a few years ago was not so amusing. A townie moved into a village and objected to being woken early in the morning by a neighbour's cock crowing. He took the matter to court and a judge (another townie?) found in his favour and granted an injunction against the poor owner of the cock to keep it quiet until after 7am every morning and to pay £5000 in costs.

I'm thinking of buying a house alongside Heathrow airport and then suing the aviation authorities for disturbing my peace!

Mild excitement in Arcadia

2011-08-31T17:25:00.001+01:00

Very little happens around here. Holiday visitors drive through on their way to the beaches and then drive back again to use our shops and restaurants but there isn't very much for villagers to talk about other than the state of the weather and our gardens. We did have a little flurry of crime back in 2007 but there hasn't been anything to exercise our Neighbourwood Watch in recent years.

And then ....... at 19.15 hours on Thursday last, there was a frantic knocking on my front door. The MM was out but, being a modern and fearless woman, I walked boldly down the hall and opened the door to find an elderly man on the doorstep. He was visibly distressed and barely able to form coherent sentences. I managed to establish that he had been passing the electrical store when he noticed the door was ajar. He had tried all the neighbours but either no-one was home or they were all keeping their heads down. No-one gets unexpected visitors here at 19.15 hours.

"It's lucky you came to me," I said. "I am the Neighbourhood Watch Co-ordinator. I'll look into it." I then fearlessly approached the building, noticing that the security gate was open and the inner door ajar. I stood at the door and called, "Is anyone there?" Getting no reply, I went inside and looked around. Electrical cable, pots of paint and piles of paper covered all the surfaces but it was impossible to tell if the chaos was caused by an intruder or just the way the business was run. A car drew up outside and my elderly informant said he had to leave as this was his friend come to take him to the bar skittles and shove ha'penny championships. I had to deal with this situation on my own.

I went back to my house to telephone the owner of the office. (I couldn't use my mobile as there is no signal in this part of the village.) She was very shocked and said she would drive over immediately. I stood on guard outside the open door until she arrived about 15 minutes later, accompanied by her 9 year old son. He was impressive! His father was away on a business trip and Junior was in charge. He told us to wait at the door while he went in to investigate. Meanwhile, his mother fretted about her computer with all her accounts and addresses, nothing else mattered. Junior came out and assured us that the computer was in place and nothing appeared to have been disturbed.

Mrs H gave me a hug and thanked me profusely, locked the door and turned to go home. "Wait," I said, "how did the intruder get in? Where is the padlock from the security gate?" "Oh, there isn't a padlock, we never lock it. One of the boys (the employees) must have come back for something after I left and forgot to close the door. I'll have to have a word with them all tomorrow." Case solved!

It may be four more years before my Neighbourhood Watch services are called on again but I think I will be able to ask the young Sherlock for assistance. He certainly enjoyed the excitement and he made a lovely thank you card to go with the bottle of fine wine that his mother brought me next day. It all happens in Devon!

Quick, save a blog!

2011-08-30T22:00:00.001+01:00

I have only recently discovered Tracey Woods' blog, after she left a comment here. It seems that she is already thinking of giving up because she hasn't yet gained the readership she hoped to get. Please go over and encourage her. We all remember those early days when nothing happens. You could even win a copy of one of her books. Do go there, now. Please.

And if you are interested in books you might like to see what's on offer at The Dabbler right now. Not only can you join the book club and have the chance of drawing a free book each month, you can also sign up to be a reviewer and choose books as and when you wish. For more details click here.

Name game

2011-08-24T21:09:00.000+01:00

We played a lot of board games and card games when I was small. There was no television to interrupt our fun. One of my favourites was Happy Families with Mr Dose the doctor, Mr Bun the baker, Mr Bone the butcher and so on. Ever since then, I have been on the lookout for people who have names appropriate for their employment. I give a whoop of joy when I come across an electrician called Mr Spark or a teacher called Mrs Chalk.

I have been looking for a local chiropodist/podiatrist to look after the ageing feet and today I couldn't believe my luck when I found Miss Ambler. Her clinic is within easy ambling distance so I have booked an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.

Lean bean pickings

2011-08-23T10:09:00.000+01:00

I love borlotti beans but I have only ever been able to find cans of them in the supermarket. This year, however, I found packets of seeds in the garden centre and I decided to grow my own. The instructions on the packet were in Italian, not my forte but I think I did all the right things. Actually, I treated then just as I would runner beans (US pole beans) and hoped for the best.

They were very slow to get started but shoots appeared eventually and I watered and watched them daily as they snaked their way up the wigwam. And then they stopped! They reached only about one third of the way up the poles. Still, flowers appeared in abundance so I carried on watering and watching. The first pods developed and, treating them like green beans, I picked them to encourage more growth. If only I were further on in my Italian lessons! I think I made a mistake. No super abundance of pods grew. In fact the crop was very meagre indeed.

I cooked the first pickings, which were delicious. Then I waited patiently for the rest of the pods to develop their beauteous red/purple hue. When I arrived home from my trip Up North, I found that a number of the pods had dried on the plants so I decided to harvest the crop this morning. All those months of loving watching, waiting and watering produced this:

Not enough to feed the world but did you ever see anything more lovely? Actually, had you been in the kitchen with me, you would have seen much denser colouring but my camera has not fully recovered from it's adventure on the beach and I haven't replaced it yet.

I found that the beans inside the pods that had dried were a very deep purple colour, the less mature pods had beautifully speckled beans and the younger pods had pale beans. Here is the full bounty:

I usually have enough runner beans to feed us right through the summer with enough extra to give away, to freeze for the winter and to make lots of green bean chutney. I have enough borlotti beans for one meal! I have learned a great deal, though, from the experience:

I should have read up on growing borlotti beans and not guessed at the Italian instructions!
I should have planted my runner beans as well.
I should have allowed all of the pods to turn a deep shade before picking them.
I should have expected an exiguous crop (I've been dying to use that word in a sentence and this is my first opportunity and the only reason for making this point).

I will definitely grow them again next year for their sheer beauty but I'll carry on buying canned beans for cooking.

Another goodbye

2011-08-14T17:34:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow I will be travelling north for the funeral of my cousin, Teresa. This will be the eighth funeral that I have attended since February. I have never experienced such a year of sadness and loss. Teresa was the "senior" cousin, the one everyone turned to for information and advice, which she served up with great humour; she was the wittiest member of the family.

While packing my bag, I've been remembering lots of good times from our childhood and thinking, inevitably of Wordsworth's Intimations of Immortality from his Recollections of Early Childhood. It expresses perfectly the mixture of happy memories with the sense of the loss of something special that we are feeling now.

There was a time when meadow, grove and stream,

The earth, and every common sight

To me did seem

Apparell'd in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

It is not now as it has been of yore; -

Turn whereso'er I may,

By night or day.

The things which I have seen I now can see no more!

The rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the rose;

The moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where'er I go,

That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.

A plethora of plums

2011-08-11T17:35:00.000+01:00

The extraordinarily hot spring and the wet summer have combined to produce bumper crops of fruit. I have an abundance of apples, a slew of strawberries, a teemingness of tomatoes and a richness of raspberries. After making jam from the berries, I thought I had time to relax until the apples and tomatoes are ready for picking but a friend had other ideas. She arrived with four enormous bags of plums and a box of jars. What could I do but get the preserving pan out again?

Stoning and cutting up 20 pounds of plums was quite a task and it was more fruit than I needed for jam. What to do with the rest? Fortunately, I was about to visit my son so a big bake up was justified.

I decided to try out my resurrected tuna quiche recipe on him. That's the result on the left of the photo. It was a great hit with him and with little Brit. I also made a roasted vegetable quiche and a plum tart and then I made some jam tarts with a jar of the plum jam. The other item in the photo is a plum crumble cake. I have had the recipe for many years but this was my first attempt at baking one. Here is the recipe:

I used a 10 inch/25cm springform cake tin, lined with baking parchment.
Ingredients
5oz/150g butter at room temperature
5oz/150g caster sugar
4 eggs at room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
5oz/150g plain flour
1teaspoon baking powder
2lbs/900g red plums, halved and stoned

For the crumble topping
4oz/115g plain flour
4oz.115g light brown sugar
1 heaped teaspoon ground cinnamon
3oz/75g butter, cut into pieces and refrigerated

Method

Make the topping by combining the flour, brown sugar and cinnamon powder in a bowl. Rub in the cold butter pieces until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Leave to one side while you mix the cake batter.
Cream the butter and caster sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. Stir in the vanilla. Sift the flour and baking powder together and fold into the cake mixture.
Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin. Arrange the plum halves on top and sprinkle with the crumble topping.
Bake at 180C/350F/Gas 4 for about 45 minutes, until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean. Leave in the tin to cool.

Result

I will be using the recipe again with apples when they are ready. I am sure that pears and raspberries would work as well.

Family and friends

2011-08-09T20:07:00.000+01:00

I arrived home today to find emails and comments on my last post that are both moving and encouraging. I also had a message on my answering service informing me that a dearly loved cousin died this morning. All in all, a series of reminders of how important family and friends are and how lucky I have been to form such good friendships via the blog. So, I'm going to stop worrying that I don't have anything of great significance to share with the world and just carry on thinking aloud and being distracted by anything and everything.

Over the weekend we celebrated Brit Junior's second birthday. Intermittent showers did nothing to spoil the fun and games in her garden on Sunday. Then we went on to spend a few days with the other grandchildren. I can't show photos from the party as there are other children in them but I can show one that I took yesterday when Millie had her face painted. She chose the shark herself but she still looks surprised!

Thank you to everyone who left a comment or sent me an email. I'll be back tomorrow with a recipe even though I can hear my brother's sighs of dismay all the way from his Greek island!

Back online

2011-08-05T18:39:00.000+01:00

We have had no internet access for a week. We have just been reconnected with the world but I am about to head off for another family visit, so no time to catch up with either writing or reading blogs. I have done a lot of reading of books, a lot of sewing and baking and spending time with friends. Perhaps an internet-free week has been a Good Thing.

While I am away I will consider the thought that has been occupying me a good deal lately - is it time to close Random Distractions? When I started in February 2006, I spent many hours writing about all manner of things but nowadays I find that I am repeating things I've said before or not thinking of much to say at all. Perhaps 5 years is enough. I'll make a decision over the weekend.

In the meantime, here are a few photos from our recent visit to Oxfordshire:

Everyone follows Grumpy into the woods


Millie, Ben and Grumpy decide to explore

Grumpy explains how to tell the age of a tree

Millie shows Grumpy how to cross safely

Millie thinks Grumpy needs a walking stick!

Elephant ears

2011-07-25T17:48:00.001+01:00

Another of my simple recipes, this time for palmiers, or elephant ears, has been posted on The Dabbler.

I am relieved to say that the tuna quiche that I made for my daughter met with her approval. She said it tasted just as good as she remembered from her childhood and now Millie and Ben will have to get used to it!

Handkersniffs and Lapskins

2011-07-21T07:44:00.000+01:00

Close scrutiny of the newspapers last week found two tiny articles that were not related to either the phone hacking scandal or the Murdoch Empire. The first stated quite boldly, backed by evidence from some doubtless extensive research study, that no one uses table napkins any more. Apparently everyone uses kitchen towel. Not so! I always use cotton or linen napkins, or lapskins as my little son named them long ago. Here are some of my everyday ones but I have a good selection of finer ones for special occasions:

I'm sure I can't be the only person left in England who likes to set the table properly after taking the trouble to cook a meal? And guess what? I still use napkin rings so that everyone can recognise their own napkin!

The second article related to research done into the use of handkerchiefs. Again, the researchers found that no-one uses them any more; everyone now uses paper tissues. I can't agree. I only use tissues when I have a head cold. I like nothing better than a crisp cotton handkersniff, as Beatrix Potter might say.

I'm not sure what this research tells us. That it was limited in its scope? That those of us who still use table napkins and handkerchiefs are anachronisms? Or, maybe, there is an awful lot of time and money being wasted on research to provide third rate students with codswallop doctorates to accompany their Mickey Mouse degrees? I suppose it is better than phone hacking.

Tuna quiche - or is it?

2011-07-20T17:13:00.000+01:00

On a recent visit home, my daughter asked for the recipe for the tuna quiche that I used to make years ago. She said she always loved it and had a longing to eat it again. For the life of me, I couldn't remember how I made it! Back in the 80s, quiche was a very popular dish and I made my share but my son and daughter didn't like the egg based filling in most quiches, so I came up with one using condensed soup. I've been experimenting with fillings and I think I have achieved something like the one I used to make. I'll find out when I take this sample to my daughter's house tomorrow!

It is so many years since I made a quiche that I had to empty the kitchen cupboards to search for the flan tin. Then I discovered that the Campbell's condensed mushroom soup that I used is no longer available. I found some Batchelors soup which is quite a different colour but I'm hoping the flavour will be the same.

Ingredients
6oz/ 198g shortcrust pastry (home made or ready made)
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup
4oz/120g can sweetcorn, drained
2 x 4oz/120g cans tuna in brine, drained
Dash Worcestershire sauce
2oz/60g cheddar cheese, grated

Method

Preheat oven to 190C/375F/gas mark 5
Grease 9 inch/22cm loose bottomed flan tin
Line the flan tin with the pastry, place a sheet of baking parchment in the base and fill with dried beans and bake 15 minutes. Remove the paper and beans and return the pastry case to the oven for a further 5 minutes
Mix the rest of the ingredients, except the grated cheese, in a bowl and fill the pastry case with the mixture
Sprinkle the cheese over the flan and cook for about 20 minutes until the cheese is bubbling

I'll let you know if it matches my daughter's childhood memory. If it doesn't I'm back to the drawing board!

Saved by an old sock

2011-07-14T13:47:00.000+01:00

The last time that I used my camera was on the day after my mother-in-law's funeral.We went to the beach with the grandchildren and the camera was passed around to record the fun. It was a few days before I tried to use it again and woe and alas, it wouldn't work! It was pretty obvious that there was sand inside the lens.

I went off to the camera shop to see if it could be repaired. The shop was staffed by two very young men who were Ant and Dec dopplegangers. I failed to get their names so I'll call them A and D for the sake of simplicity. This is how it went:

A:      And what can we do for you, madam?
M:     I hope you can repair my camera. I think it has sand in it.
A:      Sand in it, you say? Oh, and it's a Sony.
D:    Sand in a Sony, did you say?
A:      Sand in a Sony!
D: (looking at said Sony) I can see grains of sand in it.
M:      Yes, that's what I said. I had it on the beach.
A & D in unison: Sand in a Sony!

   Pause for a little dance around the store - no, I made that up but I was expecting it!

D:     Do you want the bad news?
M:     I think you have already given it.
D:     Well, sand is a Bad Thing and Sony cameras can only be repaired by Sony. There is not much       hope for it and it would certainly cost at least £180. You see what I'm saying?
A:      Yes, it is an old camera.
M:     Yes, I suppose four years is old. Although my father's box Brownie is still going strong after             80 years.

A:      You could put the money towards a new sand proof camera.
M:     Indeed I could. Thanks for your help. I'll go and see what Amazon has to offer.
D:      Well you could always try an old sock.
M:     ????????
D:      Take your vacuum cleaner and fit an old sock over the nozzle, then gently run it over the
           camera. It might work.

Here is a picture of the old sock, taken with my ancient but now sand free Sony Cyber Shot camera.

Moral of the tale

Head for the exit without making a purchase and you may well get some good advice!

Cucumber pickle

2011-07-12T17:07:00.000+01:00

At this time of year, I always have a jar of cucumber pickle in the fridge. It adds a little je ne sais quoi to salads and sandwiches. There are lots of ways of making it but my recipe for a gingery version has been published on The Dabbler today.

I am a little disappointed about the picture that has been used on The Dabbler, though. Those thick chunks of cucumber would not be as tasty as the thin slices recommended in the recipe. I shall have to have a word with the Editor!

Flesh and Grass

2011-07-11T18:27:00.000+01:00

Flesh and Grass
Author:               Libby Cone
Publisher           Createspace (June 2011)
Paperback         174 pages
Available from Amazon

This is an historical novel, based loosely on the story of the ill-fated Plockhoy settlement in Delaware.

It is 1699 in Germantown, Pennsylvania and Cornelis Boom sits reminiscing about his arrival in the New World more than 35 years earlier. He recalls the people he travelled with, their hopes and fears, the successes of their first year and the tragedies that were to follow.

Just as in her first novel, War on the Margins, Libby Cone has chosen to write about a small, tightly-knit community that becomes overwhelmed by outside forces and events. Once again, her research is meticulous and the fine detail of everyday life transports the reader to the very heart of that community.

Cornelis recalls how his father, Pieter Cornelissoon Boom set sail from Amsterdam in 1633 with his family and a small group of fellow Collegiants, to establish a Mennonite Commonwealth in Delaware Bay. He describes the difficult voyage and the establishment of the small colony in Swanendael in the Dutch-held territory of the New Netherlands.

Hard work, determination and a strong sense of community, based on their shared faith, lead to the successful establishment of the tiny commonwealth. But peace and prosperity are short lived. The bay is subjected to frequent raids by pirates, who plunder and destroy the settlers' crops. Worse is to come as the economic rivalry between England and Holland develops into war; the settlers become victims of violent clashes between the two factions and the colony is destroyed.

This is a very absorbing story with the tensions greatly enhanced by the choice of Cornelis as narrator. Not only is he a young boy, with limited understanding of what is happening around him but he is also blind. Situations that fill everyone with dread are even more terrifying for him. His recollections in adulthood are not of things he witnessed but of what he experienced through his other senses, most vividly through his sense of smell. He is haunted by the scents of sweet grass and burnt flesh.

A first person narrative has inevitable limitations. We can only learn what Cornelis is able to tell us and his observations are limited by his blindness and his youth. I wanted to know more about the characters and what happened next. I suppose all good stories leave us wanting more and Flesh and Grass has already led me to find out more about the Plockhoy settlement and, just in case Libby isn't planning to write a sequel about Cornelis' life in Pennsylvania, I will be reading about the Mennonite settlements there, too.

This is an excellent read and I highly recommend it.

Life goes on

2011-07-04T10:29:00.000+01:00

The funeral of my mother-in-law, Dorothy, on Thursday brought together family members from Scotland and a wide range of places in England. At 94, she had outlived all of her friends but the presence of three generations of her descendants was an excellent demonstration of life going on.

All ten of her grandchildren, ranging in age from 40 down to 9 years of age, were present at the funeral and four of her eight great grandchildren joined us for lunch at a hotel afterwards. It was an excellent balance of solemnity and celebration.

Our children and grandchildren stayed on for a few days and the fun we had in the garden and on the beach dispelled any gloom that might have lingered.

Millie plays hide and seek but is soon found!

Three cousins explore together

Ben in deep conversation with the ornamental cat

And more to say to the meerkat

We had glorious sunshine on Friday and spent the day on the beach.


It's a great day for flying kites

Millie goes first

Her smile tells all

Sandcastles, of course

But fun can be exhausting

Suspended between life and death

2011-06-19T09:20:00.000+01:00

My mother-in-law has suffered a cerebral haemorrhage and is unconscious. We are told that she will not recover and members of the family are taking turns to watch beside her in her hospital room. As the days and nights pass, nothing changes visibly, she looks as if she is in a deep sleep and it is hard to believe that she will not open her eyes. But there have been significant changes in the atmosphere in the room and in the behaviour and attitude of those who come and go. The limbo state has been a blessing in disguise.

Limbo: a place or state of oblivion
an intermediate, transitional or midway place or state
a region on the border of heaven and hell

Purgatory: a place of expiation

Hearing: develops at around 8 weeks of gestation and is the last sense to go in unconscious patients

I'm sorry, there is nothing we can do but keep her comfortable 'til she slips away.
Her consciousness has gone, she cannot feel your touch
but that first sense developed in the womb goes on, deep in the sleeping brain
and she will hear your voice.
So speak to her of happy, long-past times,
recount her triumphs and adventures, her travels and her loves.
Forget the recent years of endless repetitions and mistakes,
make her a child again, winning her races, playing on the beach,
a beautiful young bride, accomplished hostess, gifted raconteur.
Roll back the years and let her dream of sunshine, vigour and romance.

This vigil is a healing time for all.
Her faithful carer, now a son again, returns to happier times and memories,
while those with lives too full to spend an hour in aged company
now sit beside her through the night, remorse transformed into a fantasy of duty done.
And those who found her difficult in life have time to reconcile their hurts.
This limbo has become a purgatory for all. And all will rest in peace when she is gone.

The Great Declutter

2011-06-02T23:41:00.000+01:00

I have been talking about decluttering the house for years. Every so often, I've filled bags and boxes to take to the charity shop but you would hardly notice; clutter just seems to multiply overnight. Well, this time I really, really mean it - it all has to go!

The trouble is that I keep on finding really interesting things: boxes of letters from my husband's days in the Merchant Navy, pictures my children painted and their first attempts at storywriting, my wedding dress and veil ..... each discovery takes an age to unpack and ponder over.

This was yesterday's find:

The recorder case to match my new school uniform as I prepared for the first term at the convent high school in 1957. And inside, still with its original waxed thread in place, my Schott's descant recorder.

It has a beautifully mellow sound, much more pleasant than the plastic recorders that schools use now. Of course I'll never play it again but it has a story of its own and it is so hard to throw out memories and it doesn't take up that much room .........

When I was 11 years old, going into the nearest town was quite an adventure and we never went to the city which seemed very far away. In fact it is less than 20 miles from our childhood home but that was a whole day out by bus or train then. My father was to take me to Liverpool by bus to buy my recorder from Crane's music store. We took a bus into town and waited in the town hall square for the Liverpool bus to arrive. Dad said we should sit upstairs to get a good view of the places we passed through.

As we entered the city, I was fascinated by the enormous buildings and I can remember turning to my father to ask him about one of them when he suddenly put his arms round me and told me to hold on tight. Then the world seemed to spin out of control as the bus toppled over onto its side. Fortunately, we didn't hit the ground or we might have suffered more than scratches and bruises. The bus had come to rest on top of a car and we were left at a strange angle. The passengers in the offside seats fared worse because they were thrown out of their seats, some of them through the windows.

I remember seeing people running out of their houses with jugs and bowls to collect the petrol that was pouring from the fuel tank of the bus. I was shocked to think they were stealing fuel while people were screaming but Dad said they were actually trying to prevent the tank from catching fire.

Then there was the excitement of fire engines, police cars and ambulances. My father assured everyone that he and I were all right so we were helped down the stairs and, after a quick check by the ambulance crew, we set off to walk to Hanover Street to the magnificent music store.

Crane's was an awesome place to a girl who had only seen a grand piano on the cinema screen. I imagine that I must have walked among the instruments there with my mouth and eyes open wide. I do remember that our request for a descant recorder was handled with as much courtesy and seriousness as if it had been for a baby grand or a double bass. Dad must have told the shop assistant about the accident we had been involved in, probably to explain our bloodied appearance, because we were treated to a tour of the premises, including the beautiful Neptune Theatre above the store.

I have forgotten what else we did that day, except that my father insisted that we should sit upstairs on the bus on the homeward journey. I didn't become an inspired recorder player but I have always had a great affection for my Schott's descant recorder, the cause of one of the most exciting days in my childhood.

Does it deserve a place in my decluttered house or shall I consign it to the dustbin? And does anyone believe that I really will have a decluttered house?

Five funerals and a baptism

2011-05-28T10:02:00.000+01:00

During the last six weeks I have attended three funerals and am now waiting for details of the funerals of two more friends. When I came to live here, 22 years ago, our little church on the hill was the centre of a small but thriving community. The church holds about 70 people and we had two services on Sundays in order to accommodate everyone. In the holiday season, the extra visitors would stand outside, crowding the area around the well.

Life has changed a lot in just a few years with fewer young people attending church or supporting village events. Just ten years ago, I had between 20 and 30 children in my group and now not a single child comes to church.

Our ageing population is dwindling. These latest deaths bring our regular congregation down to forty. The little parish is no longer viable and we have had to join with a larger one in a nearby town, with our beautiful little chapel being used only for weddings and funerals. I don't know if this is typical of village churches everywhere.

On a happier note, we were in Oxfordshire last weekend for our grandson's baptism. Benjamin was too big to wear the family christening gown, last worn by Millie but here he is looking very smart in his blue velvet suit:

And here he is with proud parents, godmothers and Fr Jamie in their bigger and, hopefully, more thriving parish church.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

Alexander Pope

Nightmare characters

2011-05-18T23:47:00.001+01:00

I have heard all kinds of justifications for terrifying young children with fairy and folk tales. The popular notion when I was studying child psychology in the 1960s was that it exposed children to fear within a safe environment (i.e. the bedroom with the reassuring presence of a parent) so that they would be less fearful in the outside world. I thought it was poppycock then and I still think so. There are "experts" now telling us not to read sanitised versions of fairy tales to our children and grandchildren but to give them the full Brothers Grimm version with all the gruesome details.

Except on the warmest nights, I go to sleep with my head under the covers, a habit that started when I was very small because of the strange lullaby about a Grey Man that my mother used to sing. I can't remember all of the words but these still haunt me: Hush, there's a Grey Man coming up the stairs. Hush lest the Grey Man catch you unawares. For he's crawling and he's creeping, and his bogey eyes are peeping, just to see if everybody's fast asleep.
Hush, little one, don't let him catch you. Hush little one, don't let him see. Hide head beneath the clothes, count ten upon your toes. For where the Grey Man goes, it's black as night." I suppose she needed a little help in getting four children to settle down at night, especially when my father was working late!

The Grey Man was my nightmare character, the next generation suffered the terrors of Mr Noseybonk, a character in a children's tv programme called Jigsaw.

I have read that it was not the intention of the creator of the character to inspire terror in a whole generation of children but many 30-somethings have lingering nightmares of the man with the white face and long nose.

Nowadays, Noseybonk writes features for The Dabbler. In fact he has just written a handbook for bloggers, Blogmanship: How To Win Arguments On The Internet Without Really Knowing what You Are Talking About It is available as an eBook from Amazon or you can do what I have just done and get a copy as a PDF file for a mere 2GBP.

Despite his literary talents, Noseybonk is not a nice character, I think of him as the opposite of the Fiddler on the Roof. According to Wikipedia the Fiddler is a metaphor for survival, through tradition and joyfulness, in a life of uncertainty and imbalance whereas the equally ubiquitous Noseybonk represents the dark side of life, his long nose sniffs out our secrets and weaknesses and exposes them through sarcasm, parody and cruel humour. His handbook will probably amuse you and will certainly equip you to win arguments on the internet or in real life if you enjoy arguing. Noseybook tells us that arguing for arguing's sake on the internet is a male-dominated activity but he devotes a whole appendix to the 'ploys' of ladyblogmanship. I won't breach his copyright by quoting them here but I will be having a serious word or two with my son* at the weekend!
*as editor of The Dabbler, he should take responsibility for what he publishes!

While writing about the Grey Man, I remembered that I had mentioned him in a previous post and searched it out. It was really interesting to read that post and the 58 comments that followed. I can see many examples of the techniques described in Noseybonk's handbook. If only I'd had a copy back then, I might have held my own a bit better.

What's on my needles

2011-05-13T22:39:00.000+01:00

In response to Cathy's question over at Still Waters, here is my current knitting project:

It has the fanciest rib that I've ever attempted

It has a picot edging that is pretty but very time consuming.....

... and has introduced me to knitting with a circular needle

I am using a 4ply cotton yarn in pale green and hoping that it will end up looking something like this:

A gift for my daughter, who last had a homemade sweater when she about 12 years old!

I only took up my knitting needles again three years ago, when grandchildren started to appear. Little clothes are really satisfying to make because you get such quick results. This adult-sized cardigan has been quite challenging for me but I hope it will be ready to take up to my daughter next week. If it is a disaster I will unpick it and all three grandchildren will be wearing pale green this summer!

*****************

Post-script This post disappeared for a while during Blogger's technical problems. While the main body has been restored the comments have been lost. Fortunately, I still have been able to copy this comment and its marvellous link from my email account. Thank you, D, I have already spent too much time looking at those 19th century books!

60 going on 16 has left a new comment on your post "What's on my needles":

I'm sure it will be perfect and much loved, M.

In the meantime, you (and all those other knitters out there) might be interested in these wonderful 19th century knitting books and patterns, available to download free of charge from Southampton University's website. They form part of the Richard Rutt Collection at Winchester School of Art Library. A little gem of a discovery, courtesy of Twitter!

A whistle-stop tour of German history

2011-05-03T18:39:00.001+01:00

A few weeks ago, I signed up to The Dabbler Book Club and received a copy of Germania by Simon Winder.

Simon Winder works in publishing and has spent many years editing history books. His vast knowledge of European history is apparent in this lively and witty romp through centuries of battles, alliances, betrayals, marriages and treaties. If, however, you are hoping for a better understanding of The Holy Roman Empire, the Prince Electors and Dukes, the Thirty Years War, the Congress of Vienna and various Diets that peppered your history lessons, you will be disappointed. Germania is Simon Winder's Personal History of Germans Ancient and Modern, it will keep you entertained but leave you as confused as ever.

In 441 pages (about 90 too many for comfort), we are taken to most of the former states, dukedoms and principalities of pre-unified Germany to see ugly statues and dull museum pieces, mementos of long forgotten battles, heroes and villains. They are described with great enthusiasm and irreverent humour but there are rather too many museums, schlosser and memorials for even this lover of absurdities.

How I wish, though, that this book had been around when I had to write an essay on Catherine the Great, if only my history teacher had possessed a sense of humour!

In a sort of asteroid belt of low-grade German princesses and narrow, petty, moustachioed princes there was enough room for something really surprising to happen. Most absolutely alarming in this respect was pretty little Sophie Augusta Frederica of the laughable territory of Anhalt-Zerbst, a place so small it could hardly breathe. Her father was a Prussian field marshal and as a helpless pawn in plans to boost Prussian-Russian relations in the 1740s Sophie was shunted off to Russia where, after several ups and downs, she married the Grand Duke Peter, learned Russian, became Russian Orthodox, had Peter killed and wound up as Catherine the Great, devastating the Ottomans, the Swedes and the Poles and carving out immense new territories from Latvia to the Crimea. Indeed, a case could be made for her being the single most successful German ruler of all time, albeit not one ruling Germany.

There are many such amusing cameos to lighten what might otherwise be a depressing catalogue of wars and cruelties of various kinds. There is an extensive bibliography should you wish to take a more serious look at German history but this book is an idiosyncratic, high-speed tour around Germany, pausing to look at oddities that perhaps give some insight into the nature of the German people. An interesting and entertaining read.

For reviews of Germania by Simon Winder go to The Dabbler. And why not join the book club?

All in the April evening

2011-04-23T10:47:00.000+01:00

My mother had a lovely singing voice and she passed this on to her eldest daughter, her youngest daughter and her son. As the middle daughter, I inherited a simply adequate voice, good enough to get me into the school choir but not to stand out and I was never to progress further than the Chorus in school productions. Such is the fate of middle children!

During this period leading up to Easter, our household tasks were always accompanied by the wonderful harmony of my mother and sister singing All in the April Evening. Listening to it now, I am transported to the kitchen table of 50+ years ago, my mother baking and my sister and I preparing vegetables.

Our little beekeeper

2011-04-22T14:34:00.000+01:00

My daughter has just sent this picture of Millie in her beekeeping clothes and I just have to share it! The bees were left behind in London when the family moved to Oxfordshire but the garden has been prepared and the bees have come to join them. Millie is learning how to care for them.

She certainly looks the part!

A gingerbread themed day

2011-04-18T10:46:00.000+01:00

We kept Millie and Ben busy and entertained on a wet and windy day last week by having a themed day. First we had the story of the Gingerbread Man

Then we made some gingerbread people of our own:

And put them in the oven to cook. Please note the pinafore that Millie is wearing, a lovely gift from Jodi of Curious Acorn:

When they were cooked, there was the difficult decision about whether or not to eat them:

But when you are three there is no time for misplaced sympathy for a cookie's feelings!

And Ben joined in too:

Here is the recipe for the gingerbread dough:
Ingredients
4 oz/8tbsp soft brown sugar
4oz/half cup soft butter
6oz/one and a half cups flour
few drops vanilla extract
2 tspn ground ginger
a little milk

Mix all ingredients except the milk (I used a hand held electric mixer but you could use a wooden spoon and the creaming method if you have stronger wrists!). Add sufficient milk to bind the mixture into a soft dough.
Roll out the dough and cut out shapes.
We used chopped raisins for eyes and buttons.

Place cookies on a baking tray and cook in a medium oven (190C/375F/Gas 5) for 10 to 15 minutes.
Leave to cool on a wire rack and gobble up before they run away.

After the clearing up, we played this game:

And Millie had great fun with the little jigsaw fugures

Wind and rain provide great opportunities for staying indoors and having fun!

Anniversary music

2011-04-17T17:11:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was our 38th wedding anniversary. We had to cancel our celebration dinner as we both have a flu-type virus but I thought it would be nice to listen to some of the music that our friend, Nigel, played on the day.

I would like to say that I remember walking down the aisle on my brother's arm to C.S Lang's Fanfare but I was too nervous and excited to take it in. I'll just have to imagine I'm there again:

We signed the register to Samuel Wesley's Air and Gavotte

And, like so many newlyweds, we walked out of the church together to Mendelssohn's Wedding March.

We were married in Much Woolton, near Liverpool, where my husband was based at the time. We are thinking of going back there in 2013 to celebrate our ruby wedding anniversary, then on to North Wales, where we spent the first few days of our honeymoon before driving down to Aldeburgh, where we had a lovely house on the beach for two weeks.

Happy memories!

The red cliffs of Devon

2011-04-10T19:02:00.001+01:00

Whenever I drive to the south of the county, I try to spot the point where the soil changes from black to red. I would love to find a farm with both types of soil but to date I haven't seen one. I love the beautiful red sandstone of South Devon and I spent last week enjoying the sunshine and spectacular views along the red cliffs near Exmouth.

We have had exceptionally warm weather for early April and returned home to find the apple blossom, magnolia and lilac filling the garden with colour and perfume. I rushed out with the camera to record them because we are told the weather is about to change. Last year the apple blossom only survived for two days before high winds arrived to demolish all hopes of a good crop of apples. I am hoping that this lot will survive a little longer.

Birthday princess

2011-03-28T10:29:00.000+01:00

I haven't been up to London to visit the Queen but I have been to see our very own Princess Amelia for her third birthday:

The Disney dress was very much appreciated


Not quite used to wearing a crown yet.

Birthday lunch with bambino-cino

But Ben prefers cucumber

Look, I'm a penguin

Party picnic with cousin Charlotte


Thye best way to party is to ignore your guests!

Seven days later it is Ben's first birthday. What a bore!


We can have fun together at the park now


Benjamin thinks he can scramble up the net now that he is 1

We had a fun-packed birthday visit with parties, trips to the Cotswold Wildlife Park and the local park and countless other activities. Everyone was exhausted except the children!

Ignorance of the law

2011-03-22T09:53:00.000Z

While criminals cannot plead ignorance of the law as a defence, I wonder what the position of their lawyers is? Here are some snippets from a book available in US but not here in UK,Disorder in the Court: Great Fractured Moments in Courtroom History, sent to my brother by a Greek friend currently visiting Australia. I am sure the appeal is equally universal.

ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
ATTORNEY: Voodoo?
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________

ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He's 20, much like your IQ.
___________________________________________

ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town I'm going with male.
_____________________________________

ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
_________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 PM.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.
____________________________________________

ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?
______________________________________

ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.

I hope these have cheered you a little amid all the gloomy and troubling news.

A short interlude

2011-03-08T22:05:00.000Z

I will be away for a while, celebrating the birthdays of two of the grandchildren: Amelia (Millie) will be 3 and Benjamin will be 1. I'm expecting a lot of fun but not much rest. Back soon.

A trip into the past

2011-03-06T15:32:00.001Z

Since retiring, the days and even months seem to slip by without my taking any particular note of them. Random Distractions' fifth birthday passed last month without any fanfare but today I had a reminder of some of those early days of blogging when someone kindly left a comment on this post from 2008. I am afraid I was singing the praises of my son on that occasion, too!

Looking back at the topics I used to write about, the blogs I followed and the friends I made then, has been really interesting. Some of the people I got to know continue to be friends - D of 60goingon16 has become a close personal friend, while others remain in their 'virtual' state but are treasured nonetheless.

Random Distractions has changed more than I expected, though. I used to write far more about books and current affairs. Life has disrupted my reading time, so I rarely review books now; the birth of three grandchildren has led me into knitting and sewing and granny boasting on a scale I never imagined to be possible; and a few unpleasant disagreements led me to avoid writing on controversial subjects. The newly retired professional woman turned into a domestic grandmother!

Spring is definitely in the air now so perhaps it is time to dust the cobwebs out of the old brain. I'll let you know how that is going after my trip to Oxfordshire later this week to celebrate two grandchildren's birthdays. You see what I mean..........!

Spring in the air

Mother's Pride

2011-03-05T09:54:00.000Z

This isn't actually another post about bread - I'll save that for tomorrow. It's a bit of the real stuff. I know that boasting is not a pretty trait but what mother would not want to crow, just a teeny bit, when her son's profile is featured on the prestigious normblog?

The son is mine, the rest is all his own. Congratulations, Brit!

Women's World Day of Prayer

2011-03-04T11:56:00.000Z

Today, the first Friday in March, all over the world women will gather to share prayer, information and action. Each year, women from one country prepare the service to be used and this year it is the turn of the women of Chile, who have chosen bread as their focus in How many loaves have you?

Women from all of our local churches will be joining together this afternoon and I have been busy baking the bread that will be shared. Although it is the Women's World Day of Prayer, the congregation will, we hope, be mixed.

It is really good to think that this world consciousness of the people of Chile began this morning at dawn in Tonga and will go on through 170 countries until it ends 35 hours later in Western Samoa. The idea of the women of the world uniting in this way is really thrilling. I hope you can join us.

Just forget it!

2011-03-02T22:13:00.000Z

Does anyone remember this ad from 1961?

I am seriously considering forgetting about washday despite all my previous posts about washing lines. Today we got our water bill for the next 12 months and it is a staggering 1,080GBP or 1,762USD or 1,271euros. However I say it, it sounds a lot!

Here in the South West of England we have the highest water rates in Britain. They (South West Water) blame it on the holiday makers and the beaches. I blame it on the greedy directors. I think this year we will be mostly smelling.......

Dabbler giveaway

2011-03-01T13:40:00.001Z

My son brought some Bath Ales for us to sample at Christmas and very delicious they were, my favourite being Gem. Pop over to The Dabbler now for your chance to win a case. Even if you don't win, you will receive some recipes. Watch this space for the results of my culinary efforts.

Greek yogurt dessert in a hurry

2011-02-26T12:11:00.001Z

I have just returned from a week of family visits in Bristol, Oxford and Lancashire. Looking forward to a leisurely weekend of catching up on sleep and reading, I was horrified to learn that the MM had committed us to a Sunday lunch party and committed me to taking a dessert for 10 people. With no time to go further than the corner shop, what could I do but ring my brother for the recipe for the delicious dessert he had served just a few days ago. He had said that it was quick and easy and so it is:

Ingredients
1 packet digestive biscuits (I used about three quarters of the pack)
500g tub Greek yogurt (0% fat is fine but my shop only had the full fat variety)
1 small can condensed milk (this is the light version, making up for some of the butter to follow!)
Butter
1 large lemon

Method
Put required amount of biscuits in a plastic food bag and crush with a rolling pin. Place in base of serving dish. Pour on melted butter and press mixture down to form base of dessert.

Zest the lemon and reserve for decoration.
Pour yogurt, condensed milk and the juice of the lemon into a bowl and stir until smooth. The mixture will be quite runny but have faith, it will set to a cheesecake consistency. Pour it on top of the biscuit base, sprinkle the lemon zest on top and put in the fridge. It will be ready to serve in about an hour but mine will stay in the fridge until tomorrow.

Voila! One delicious dessert to serve at least 10 people, made in less than 10 minutes. Thank you, brother.

South Riding by Winifred Holtby

2011-02-16T22:51:00.000Z

South Riding

Author Winifred Holtby

First published 1936

Published by Virago Press 1988, reissued 2010

Paperback 544 pages

This reissue of Winifred Holtby's classic novel anticipates a new Andrew Davies television adaptation to be broadcast soon on BBC One. The trailers promise BBC drama at its best but I recommend that you rush out and beg, borrow or buy a copy of the book before it gets to the screen. Don't be put off by the 544 pages, it is such an absorbing story with such varied, realistic characters that I found myself staying up late into the night to read just one more chapter and then one more....

South Riding. An English Landscape is set in the fictional district of the South Riding of Yorkshire in the early 1930s, a period overshadowed by the impact of the Great War and the Depression. It is a period of change and resistance to change. There are those who want better living and working conditions for the working classes: better education, housing, health care and more opportunities for girls to fulfil their potential. On the other side are those who want the old traditions to continue, with a social hierarchy based on land ownership and loyalty. These issues will be decided by members of the local council, each of whom brings his or her own passions and interests to the council chamber.

The two conflicting views are represented by Sarah Burton, the feminist, liberal, young headmistress of the girls' school and Robert Carne, the gentleman farmer of the centuries old Maythorpe Hall who is passionate about his farm, his horses and his loyal tenants and labourers. Their stormy relationship has been likened to that of Mr Rochester and Jane Eyre but South Riding is far more than the unfolding of an unlikely love story, it is a complex work of social history, idealism, heroism and suffering.

The book begins with a list of Characters in their order of appearance that runs to six pages. It is a measure of Winifred Holtby's skill as a writer, as well as her compassion for and understanding of people and their concerns, that each character is fully rounded and memorable. There are no simple heroes and villains, every good person has some flaw, frailty or blind spot and every scoundrel has at least one redeeming feature.

The members of the South Riding County Council are a motley crew, some of whom seek to serve their local community while others use their position to further their own interests. They have limited funds to allocate and must balance the needs of specific groups, such as the unemployed and the slum dwellers, against investment in commercial interests that would benefit the area as a whole. Plus ça change!

South Riding is considered to be Winifred Holtby's masterpiece. It was published a year after her untimely death at the age of 37. It is beautifully written and totally absorbing. The landscape is as much a central character as Sarah Burton, Richard Carne, Alderman Mrs Beddows and Lydia Holly, the 14 year old girl from the Shacks who wins a scholarship to the High School. It encompasses her passion for education, social justice and feminism. It is as relevant today as it was in 1937.

Saved by my pathetic broadband connection

2011-02-13T06:20:00.000Z

I thought I was pretty savvy to the dangers of telephone and internet scams but I got caught out yesterday. The caller said he was a "Windows Support Advisor." I was suspicious and questioned him as to why he was calling and how he had my telephone number. He said that my details were registered when I bought my computer and that they contacted Windows users when they received 5 error reports. My windows applications had been corrupted by a virus and he needed to guide me through the process of repairing the damage.

Still suspicious, I followed his instructions and clicked on computer management and saw warnings where he said I would and accepted that this was a genuine call. He told me to highlight certain items in the list and delete them. I tried but wasn't able to delete them and he told me to open Internet Explorer so that he could help me directly. Fortunately for me, broadband in rural areas is poor and using my landline disrupts the internet connection. I couldn't get online. I asked the advisor to call me on my mobile but he said he wasn't allowed to do that but gave me a number to call him back on. Again, fortunately for me, the reception was poor and I said I would get help from someone else and rang off.

This is what I discovered when I rang PC World's TechGuys:

Microsoft do not have your personal details

Microsoft never call you

If I had managed to get online the bogus caller would have either gained access to my passwords etc or got me to download a virus

I will no longer complain about my BT Total Broadband that is anything but! I was saved by its inefficient technology.

Gifts to lift the spirit

2011-02-07T23:48:00.000Z

On 60goingon16 today, D writes about a campaign called Give and Makeup, which aims to provide toiletries and make-up for women who have escaped from domestic violence. The recent announcement that local authorities are withdrawing funding from services for victims of domestic violence means that the charities that do such vital work will rely more than ever on our support.

You will find all the information and links that you need on 60 going on 16 and here is a shortcut to the list of things the charity would like. This seems to me an easy way to do a little to make women who have lost confidence in themselves to look and feel a little better.

Washing lines#3

2011-02-06T17:19:00.000Z

I've just been reading about Victorian wash days. I was surprised to find that these were not weekly events but probably only took place about once a month. When I read the instructions for landering in the Girls' Own Paper of 1899, I understood why ordinary housewives, who had no servants to do the work, would need time to recover in between what were wash weeks rather than days:

Monday - Steeping (soaking)
Tuesday - Washing
Wednesday - Folding and Starching
Thursday - Ironing
Friday - Airing

Have you noticed that there is no mention of drying? Surely that should follow the starching? I could easily become distracted at this point and explore the culture of washing or ironing the laundry but I am supposed to be writing about washing lines, so I will not digress.

I like a neat and orderly washing line. The sheets, pillow cases and duvet covers go out first thing in the morning so that they are usually dry when the towels, tea cloths, table cloths and napkins are ready to hang out. Nowadays, thank goodness, I don't have rows of shirts on the line but when I did, they were pegged at the tail. Dark coloured items next and, if it is a really warm and windy day and I can get everything dried outdoors, the socks are pegged by the toe, in pairs. Oh, and in case you are wondering, trousers and skirts are pegged at the waistband. I am afraid that the Random Distractions washing line has nothing random about it!

Now for that rather special line that I mentioned in my last post:

I bought this Picture Puffin book in 1967 to use with my first primary school class. It has delighted many children, especially my deaf pupils who always loved stories with a strong visual element. My own children loved it and now Millie and Charlotte have been introduced to it.

Farmer's wife, Mrs Mopple hangs her washing out to dry, using good old-fashioned dolly pegs, but the wind blows each item off the line and onto one of the farm animals so that when she comes to collect her laundry she finds:

A pig in a petticoat

A turkey in a nightcap

A chicken in a muffler

A jersey cow with ten horns

A rabbit with the measles

That would never happen if she used a tumble dryer now would it?

Washing lines#2

2011-02-02T17:53:00.001Z

The next essential item after the washing line is the peg, or pin as our American friends would say. My mother had wooden pegs that doubled up as toys.

We would slot one peg inside another to make guns when we played at being cowboys in the garden. On rainy days, we would draw faces on the peg tops and drape them in bits of fabric to make characters in our little theatre, made from a shoe box.

Sometimes gypsies would knock on the door, trying to sell pegs they had made from two bits of wood bound with twine or, as in this picture, metal bands.

They were not very good pegs but people would buy a few because they felt sorry for the women who were trying to scrape a living.

When I had my first job and flat (apartment), I wanted the latest style in pegs; first some very flimsy plastic ones that used to break, leaving the laundry on the ground.

Then a different style but still plastic

These stayed on the line but were no good at pinning anything thicker than a handkerchief or a pair of tights. If I did manage to squeeze them on over a thicker item, I wouldn't be able to get it off again. And, of course, it took much longer to peg out the washing with coloured pegs because they had to be colour matched to each other and the clothes!

For years I used this type,

These are fine until the spring breaks and then the washing ends up on the ground again. So I now use some superior cushioned pegs that don't leave pressure marks on sweaters.

Unfortunately, the problem with colour-matching has resurfaced. (I hope no-one believes that!)

Where do you keep your pegs/pins? I have always favoured a bag

but some people prefer a bucket

My mother-in-law always left her pegs on the line, ready for the next wash day. I could never do that. Some habits are so deeply ingrained that to change them would be to betray my Lancashire and Irish forebears. The washing should never be left on the line after sunset and the pegs should be put in the bag and brought indoors. I may never have whitened my doorstep but I have always brought in my pegs!

Next time - hanging methods and a very special line.

Washing lines#1

2011-01-31T18:31:00.001Z

Fine Lines a celebration of clothesline culture by Cindy Etter-Turnbull doesn't appear to be available in UK but Canadian and US readers can get it here. I was lucky enough to win my copy at Letters from a Hill Farm. It is a highly entertaining as well as informative book and well worth the effort of tracking down a copy. Each section had me reminiscing, remarking on the changes in our domestic habits over the last 60 years or so and frequently laughing aloud.

I was surprised to learn that in some parts of Canada and US clotheslines are banned! I haven't heard of that happening here yet but we all know that where America leads England tends to follow. I'm getting my "Hands off my washing line!" placard ready, just in case. My first thought on a warm, breezy day is how much laundry can I get washed and out to dry? It would be a brave official who would try to stop me!

You might wonder, as I did, at the idea of a clothesline culture. Don't people just put their washing out to dry in the sun? Believe me, after reading just a few pages of Fine Lines, I realised that the how and where of laundry drying is embedded in our cultural identity. I don't intend to spoil the book for would-be readers but I am going to pick out a few aspects of clothesline culture to explore here over the next few days. Do join me with your own memories and observations.

Nappy drying service at Butlin's holiday camp 1955

My mother always had two long washing lines made of rope and supported by wooden props. She would have approved of the rows of nappies blowing in the breeze in this picture from BBC archives. However, she would not have had that tattered nappy on display for the neighbours to see! Less than perfect items were dried on an indoor rack in the kitchen.

There were more wet Mondays than dry ones in Lancashire, so this ceiling clothes rack was in constant use along with the 'clothes maiden'

I think this was a northern name because when I moved to the south of England I could only buy this type and it was called a clothes horse:

I didn't see any props in the southern gardens, all my neighbours had pulley lines. My Lancashire soul needed a prop so a friend made one for me, a little more sophisticated than this one, but not much!

My cottage garden is too small for a proper washing line so I now have a rotary line that can be packed away in the garage when not in use and I have a tumble dryer and the Aga for those wet days.

Modern appliances are useful but not nearly as satisfying as the old ways of doing things. As a young mother, I loved to look out on my rows of terry nappies blowing in the wind. I loved the fresh outdoor smell of the dried laundry and was really surprised when one of my neighbours told me that she never dried her washing outdoors because she hated her clothes to smell of the sea.

My mother had very precise ways of hanging out the washing. It was sorted and folded and put in the basket in the order it was to pegged on the line. The basket was carried out into the garden with the bag of pegs and a damp cloth for wiping the line - skipping that would lead to trouble if she found a dirty mark on a shirt or sheet. Next time I'll look at pegs and how the clothes were hung out to dry.

Uplifted by birdsong

2011-01-27T12:20:00.000Z

When my friend D and I met up yesterday, we exchanged belated Christmas gifts. We share a love of garden birds and D gave me this book and CD of birdsong:

I have been playing it in the kitchen this morning while baking, making soup and generally pottering. It created the most relaxing yet uplifting environment and I achieved far more than I had planned. The birds in my garden are busy eating to ward off the cold at present and their singing won't begin until the spring weather arrives. Thanks, D, this has brought spring and summer into the house!

One of my favourite poems is Siegfried Sassoon's Everyone sang. He wrote some of the most powerful poetry of WW1 but this poem is full of hope or, as he himself described it, release. Like the birdsong, I find it very uplifting:

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on--on--and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away ... O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.

With cheerful voice

2011-01-25T21:37:00.000Z

It is probably far too late for New Year greetings but this is my first post in 2011, so here goes: Happy New Year!

Where have I been and what have I been doing? Well, the days have been full and have flown by but there is nothing terribly exciting to report. I've been quite preoccupied with some difficult situations among family and friends, where cancer is affecting far too many people who are dear to me.

Then a few days ago, I had an email from my long-time blogging friend, e, who said she was missing my 'cheerful voice.' That made me realise how deep into despond I was sinking and that I really ought to shake myself out of it. I have been reading some of my favourite blogs and finding that many of you have been writing about things that make you cheerful and grateful and this morning the postman brought me a package from Nan at her Hill Farm; it was a book that has had me chuckling all day. Thank you all for kick-starting my optimism. I'm now ready to think of my own reasons to be cheerful.

I have plans for writing about the book that arrived today but that is for later in the week. In the meantime I will just remind myself how lucky I am:

My three lovely grandchildren

Living by the sea

First signs of Spring

A lunch date with my dear friend D at the Exeter Inn tomorrow

Now that I have started, I can think of hundreds of reasons to be cheerful. I must be out of the doldrums at last! I've been in something of a royalist mood since seeing The King's Speech last week so here is a clip from the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Queen's coronation in Westminster Abbey. It is undoubtedly "with cheerful voice."
object width="480" height="385">

Millie picks a winner

2010-12-30T23:46:00.000Z

The names of all the entrants for the Flower Fairy bag kit draw went into Millie's bag and Millie kindly agreed to interrupt her task of scattering toys around the living room floor in order to pick out the winner. I apologise for the poor photographs but if you have ever tried to get a two-and-three-quarter year old to co-operate with a camera, you'll understand and forgive!

The polar bears want this one


Shall I open it?

I wish I could read.

The winner is Jodi!

Congratulations, Jodi! I'll be sending the kit off to you as soon as the Post Office opens after the New Year holiday. I'm sure you will enjoy making it up for your little granddaughter. I don't think Millie was swayed by all that flattery, by the way; I'm fairly sure that she can't read yet!

Flower fairy draw reminder

2010-12-29T08:43:00.000Z

If you would like a chance to win a Flower Fairy bag kit, just leave a comment here or on the original post. Millie will draw a winner tomorrow before she leaves.

Christmas greetings

2010-12-24T17:08:00.000Z

The cake, pudding, mince pies, gingerbread and desserts have all been made. The tree has been decorated and the presents wrapped. My son and his wife and little Charlotte have arrived safely. So there is nothing left but to get ready for Midnight Mass and to wish each and every one of you a very happy Christmas.

You can see some of my childhood memories of Christmas over on The Dabbler and then perhaps you will know why I choose this particular carol to welcome the feast day.

Win a fairy bag kit

2010-12-15T07:44:00.001Z

These are the little Flower Fairy bags that I made for my grandchildren. They will hold a surprising number of those small toys that children love to hold.

The green bag is for Benjamin. I used little boy fairies and a masculine-looking lining so that he won't feel too embarrassed to carry his cars and dinosaurs around in it!

I have put together a complete kit: fairy panels, batting, lining, trim and cord, together with simple instructions for making the bag. Why not start the New Year with a small project? Just leave a comment here, stating whether you would like girl or boy fairies and I will get Millie to pick out a winner when she comes for her Christmas visit.

Cable and lace

2010-12-02T10:26:00.000Z

I have completed all my knitting projects for the children. As you can see, my fingers have been too busy to do any typing! It has been something of a Debbie Bliss fest, using patterns and yarns from her Simply Baby and The Baby Knits Book.

For Charlotte, a pretty lace-edged cardigan in a delicate shade of green. She is such a pretty, delicate tot that I thought this would be just right for her.

Then to keep out the wintry cold, this cable and moss stitch jacket. I made one for Millie when she was 10 months old and that has now been passed on to Benjamin. Millie now has another, so I look forward to seeing all of the grandchildren dressed in cable and moss stitch when they come for their Christmas visit.

Benjamin has inherited so many knitted jackets that I haven't done very much for him yet, so here's a boyish top in cable and rib.

Christmas book draw

2010-11-24T08:37:00.000Z

That superb literary magazine, Slightly Foxed produces a special Christmas edition called The Christmas Fox. It is an ideal gift for oneself or a book-loving friend and there are three copies to be won on The Dabbler right now. All you have to do is identify the illustrator of Scrooge's third visitor and if you don't want to look it up, you can simply look very closely at the signature on the picture!

I am being so helpful because, as mother of one of the editors of The Dabbler, I will have to buy my own copy or hope to receive it as a gift! The competition is open until 6th December and the prizes will be sent anywhere in the world. So, good luck everyone!

(Special note for AliB - I'm sure you would love one - just look at this year's title!)

Tell all your girlfriends

2010-11-23T10:36:00.000Z

I just had an email from a doctor friend and she asked me to pass it on to all my friends. Well, I don't like sending group emails so I will pass it on here.

Interesting.... we do it instinctively but now I guess this is the theory behind it all.
They teach it at Stanford
"I just finished taking an evening class at Stanford. The last lecture was on the mind-body connection-the relationship between stress and disease. The speaker (head of psychiatry at Stanford) said, among other things, that one of the best things that a man could do for his health is to be married to a woman whereas for a woman, one of the best things she could do for her health was to nurture her relationships with her girlfriends. At first everyone laughed, but he was serious.

Women connect with each other differently and provide support systems that help each other to deal with stress and difficult life experiences. Physically this quality “girlfriend time" helps us to create more serotonin-a neurotransmitter that helps combat depression and can create a general feeling of well being. Women share feelings whereas men often form relationships around activities. They rarely sit down with a buddy and talk about how they feel about certain things or how their personal lives are going. Jobs? Yes. Sports? Yes. Cars? Yes. Fishing, hunting, golf?Yes. But their feelings?-rarely. Women do it all of the time. We share from our souls with our sisters/mothers, and evidently that is very good for our health. He said that spending time with a friend is just as important to our general health as jogging or working out at a gym.

There's a tendency to think that when we are "exercising" we are doing something good for our bodies, but when we are hanging out with friends, we are wasting our time and should be more productively engaged--not true. In fact, he said that failure to create and maintain quality personal relationships with other humans is as dangerous to our physical health as smoking! So every time you hang out to schmooze with a gal pal, just pat yourself on the back and congratulate yourself for doing something good for your health! We are indeed very, very lucky. Sooooo let's toast to our friendship with our girlfriends. Evidently it's very good for our health."

The helpful comments on the previous post about insomnia are evidence of just how much support women friends give to one another. My friend has adopted a new slogan "Gossip saves lives." Pass it on to your girlfriends too.

Sleepless in Devon

2010-11-19T04:08:00.002Z

It is 02.57 and I've given up on trying to get to sleep. I suffer from periods of insomnia that may last for two or three nights and sometimes for several weeks; they end as unexpectedly as they begin. Tonight, or rather this morning, I thought I would look up what other people have said about insomnia and discovered dozens of quotations. I'll post a few here and maybe I'll find an unexpected remedy!

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky -
I've thought of all by turns, and still I lie
Sleepless...
~William Wordsworth, "To Sleep"

The worst thing in the world is to try to sleep and not to. ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

Nothing cures insomnia like the realization that it's time to get up. ~Author Unknown

O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my sense in forgetfulness?
~William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part I

Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth:
So do not let me wear to-night away.
Without thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
~William Wordsworth, "To Sleep"

Sleeplessness is a desert without vegetation or inhabitants. ~Jessamyn West

I find sleeplessness frustrating and so cannot agree with this writer:

It's at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. I don't know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind. I wish I believed, as J. B. Priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while. Three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around. Perhaps that's why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it! A "bad night" is not always a bad thing.

~Brian W. Aldiss

I'm far more in tune with Dorothy Parker:

How do people go to sleep? I'm afraid I've lost the knack. I might try busting myself smartly over the temple with the night-light. I might repeat to myself, slowly and soothingly, a list of quotations beautiful from minds profound; if I can remember any of the damn things.

If anyone has a cure for insomnia, please let me know. Meanwhile I'm going back to bed to try again ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

This month, I have been mostly .....

2010-11-16T14:31:00.000Z

.... Sewing, knitting and entertaining. As usual, my good intentions to be prepared well in advance for Christmas have come to nothing. I have a pile of almost-finished projects and I wonder how many of them will be ready to wrap on Christmas Eve?

Here are some that I finished last week because they need to be sent off this month.

A sweater for Millie, who has suddenly grown out of everything she has.

Advent calendar for Millie and Benjamin.

My daughter is making little figures to put in the pockets. They

will then be assembled into a Christmas nativity scene.

A Christmas stocking for Benjamin.

He wasn't around last year when I made stockings

for Millie and Charlotte.

A Flower Fairies bag, the first of six that I

hope to get finished for Christmas.

There are two more sweaters ready to be sewn up (the part of knitting that I really don't like), another Advent calendar almost completed and a list of requests from friends and family that I will probably not get around to this year. It would be so much easier to buy gifts but I really enjoy looking at the finished product and hope that the recipient will appreciate the thought that went into it.

When I was a child, a homemade dress or sweater was a sign that your parents couldn't afford to buy from the shops but it seems to be quite different now. Hand crafted goods are highly desirable and, though mine are far from perfect, family and friends seem to like having something a little different.

The entertaining that I mentioned at the beginning refers to this house guest:

Paws

Paws is a border collie belonging to a friend, who leaves her with us whenever she needs to go away. Paws is really quite happy with us but if we don't respond to all of her demands for treats, she sits by the back door looking sulky in the hope that we will try to win her favour again. She is a great actress with an amazing ability to look sad. Don't be fooled, she only wants doggy chocs!

Broken promises and unwanted gifts

2010-11-08T12:37:00.000Z

Last week I resolved to get back into blogging mode. That promise to myself lasted for precisely two days before domestic issues intervened but here I am at the start of a new week and we'll see how things go.

The 'unwanted gifts' part of the heading sounds rather churlish but it refers to a situation that is the cause of great mirth in the Random household. We are blessed with really good neighbours, whose properties once formed part of ours - in the days before we moved here. We live in the original farmhouse with a large portion of the farmyard and the kitchen garden, while our neighbours on one side live in a converted linhay (barn) and on the other side, a bungalow built on what used to be an orchard. We are all very friendly and helpful but can go for quite long periods without seeing one another.

The neighbours in the bungalow run an excellent nursery for children from a few months to 4 years and on Friday the husband, John, came round to tell us that they were refurbishing the nursery and he had a baby's highchair he wanted us to have. I explained that we already had one but he insisted that with three grandchildren another chair was sure to come in handy and before I could blink I was the grateful, if reluctant owner of two highchairs.

On Saturday, John was at the door again. "I'm sure you could use a storage unit for books and toys, it is in excellent condition but we don't need it any more." So here we are in our overfurnished, cluttered house with two highchairs and a storage unit.

On Sunday my husband went to the door, he was going to be much firmer than I had been. Now we have two highchairs, a storage unit and a child's desk!

This morning we have been waiting nervously for the knock on the door, expecting to see John with two infants under his arms - in great condition but surplus to requirements! I think we need a bigger shoe!

Apple In and Out .... and gone

2010-11-02T09:47:00.001Z

My mother-in-law, Dorothy, has been living with us for almost two years. She will be 94 at the end of November and is physically quite well, if not very mobile but her memory is poor. At first it was just her short-term memory and we have learned to live with the fact that she does not retain information for more than a minute. Her long-term memory, though, was pretty sharp until a few months ago. She loved to talk about her childhood in Devon, her experiences in the second world war and her years in Zimbabwe (then called Rhodesia) with her young family.

The memories began to be muddled, so I made albums of her photographs, letters and newspaper clippings with clear labels of the names of people and places but I saw recently that she has crossed out some of my labels and written new, incorrect ones. I find it rather sad to think that such a long life can be fading into an inaccurate blur but she seems to be quite happy with her misremembered stories.

Dorothy was never a good cook but she had a passion for traditional Devonshire food as made by her grandmother and great aunt. She learned how to make Devonshire clotted cream so that she could have a regular supply in Africa with her other culinary success, Devonshire Apple In and Out. She would never give anyone the recipe for this and now she has forgotten it but I found it in a book of traditional Devonshire recipes and decided to make some to stir her fading memories.

It is a very simple pudding, originally made with suet and steamed for an hour or more but I adapted it to bake as a sponge pudding and it worked very well.

Devonshire Apple In and Out
6oz flour
4oz fat
4oz sugar
1 egg
1lb apples

Rub the fat into the flour then add the sugar and beat in the egg. Peel the apples and slice them directly into the mixture in a buttered pudding dish.

Bake at 350F/180C for about 30 minutes.
(If using suet, steam in a greased basin for 1hr 15mins.)

I used butter and brown sugar in mine and this is how it turned out:

My husband prepared his mother for an exciting surprise and I brought in a portion of the pudding, served with vanilla ice-cream. Dorothy's reaction? "Oh, how lovely. Ice-cream!"

In, out, gone.

Speechless

2010-11-01T08:32:00.000Z

My trip to Bristol to visit my lovely granddaughter, Charlotte, unexpectedly extended into a visit to Oxfordshire to babysit Millie and Benjamin. Having three grandchildren under the age of three keeps me busy in the nicest ways: I get to visit the zoo and parks and farms; read wonderful children's books, old favourites and some excellent new ones; find endless inspiration for knitting and sewing projects and get lots of cuddles.

The only downside to being a grandma is exposure to the incredibly virulent colds that toddlers get when they are cutting teeth and both Charlotte and Benjamin shared their germs with me in a most generous fashion. By the time I drove home on Friday I had lost my voice completely and it still hasn't returned. The funny thing is that until I start to speak I don't know that I'm speechless! My voice ranges from strangled squeaks and whistles to the lowest register of Fenella Fielding's but in no predictable sequence! I can now empathise with teenage boys.

There are some benefits though, as I sit on the sofa sipping my hot lemon and honey I am catching up on a lot of reading and I'm hoping to get back into a regular blogposting routine. Watch this space!

Prize draw for Real Readers

2010-10-18T10:01:00.001+01:00

There are four special days in the year which feel like extra birthdays for me. The mail arrives containing a fat package bearing the image of a rather knowing fox

and I am assured of weeks of pleasurable reading to come. The package contains my quarterly edition of Slightly Foxed.

Slightly Foxed is more than a review magazine, it is an entry into the magical world of libraries that I discovered as a child. I find forgotten treasures, new delights and fascinating insights into much loved works of fact and fiction. Of one thing I can be certain, each book reviewed will have true literary merit and even though I know I will never get to read all of the books, the reviews themselves increase my knowledge and understanding of our literary heritage.

If you would like the chance to win a subscription to Slightly Foxed for yourself, or perhaps as a gift for someone else if you already subscribe, then go to The Dabbler now and enter the competition.

Good luck!

La Stupenda

2010-10-12T12:23:00.000+01:00

Dame Joan Sutherland 1927 - 2010. The gretaest voice of the twentieth century.

Lost words

2010-10-03T10:19:00.001+01:00

One of the most thumbed books on our shelves is this:

As a family of avid readers and crossword puzzlers, we have frequent recourse to dictionaries and this one has provided the solution to many a disagreement. When son and daughter were young, we had a weekly exercise where each of us chose a word from the Dictionary of Difficult Words to learn and use as often as possible during the week. I have to admit that we seldom recalled the words beyond a day or two; the only one that entered our family vocabulary was olid, meaning evil-smelling. You can imagine how frequently that was used in a household of teenagers and their friends!

I was reminded of this pastime by blogging friend erp*, who sent me a link to Save the Words. It is a wonderful website with an enormous collection of archaic and obscure words; you can even "adopt" a word, pledging to use it as frequently as possible in conversation and correspondence. Take a look, it is great fun. I thought I might adopt senticous, meaning prickly or thorny; it sounds far more interesting than grumpy, doesn't it? From now on I shall be signing any letters of complaint from "a senticous old woman."

*erp has asked me to credit the the Volokh Conspiracy with providing her with this link

War on the Margins update 2

2010-09-24T21:21:00.001+01:00

Those of you who followed the progress of Libby Cone's excellent book War on the Margins will be pleased to know that it has been nominated for the Autumn 2010 UK People's Book Prize.

My enthusiasm for this book has not diminished since I wrote about it here, here and here. The latest news from Libby is that it will soon be out in paperback*. She is also working on a new novel, set in Colonial Delaware. I will be reading that as soon as it is published!

You can vote for War on the Margins on the People's Book Prize website. It only takes a minute to register your vote.

*War on the Margins is now available in paperback from Amazon.

Traveller's tales #2

2010-09-22T12:38:00.000+01:00

Stage 2 of our holiday was a very short break in the Peak District. We haven't visited the area before and we only decided to go when our plans to see Lincoln fell through but we saw enough to make us want to go back for a much longer holiday.

The Peak District is mainly in Derbyshire but also extends into Cheshire, Staffordshire and Yorkshire. Driving out to explore the countryside, we found ourselves crossing several county boundaries but our base was at Monsal Head in Derbyshire.

This was the view from our bedroom window, the viaduct over the River Wye.

This is great walking country but with only 3 days at our disposal we decided to drive around to see as much as possible and plan a future walking holiday. The landscape is truly magnificent, words like splendour and majestic peppered our conversation as we drove over peaks and down dales. It was a great contrast to our gentle rolling hills and lush patchwork landscape here in North Devon. Here we see very little of the farmland from the narrow lanes because of the high banks and hedges but the Derbyshire farmers use dry stone walls to edge their fields and it is easy to stand on the roadside and look across at what looks like a child's drawing of fields with heavy black-crayoned dividing lines.

I thought of the effort and determination of the men who carted all that stone into these remote parts and painstakingly built the walls. We had to drive many miles before we found a quarry:

Huge trucks carry the stone nowadays but I imagined horses struggling up the hills with their heavy loads in former times.

We stayed at Castle Cliffe hotel at Monsal Head. It has stunning views and is the perfect base for walking or visiting local towns and villages. We have stayed in very many hotels and guest houses in UK but none compare with the comfort and friendliness of this one. Jackie, the owner, helped us with our bags and then invited us into the lounge for tea and home made cake. The breakfast menu was superb; I had to try a Derbyshire oatcake with bacon and maple syrup and it was scrummy. We had excellent dinners in the Monsal Head Hotel and at the Packhorse Inn in nearby Little Longstone. To get to the latter, we had to walk along a "special off-road pedestrian walkway" which here in Devon we call a pavement!

We didn't have very much time for exploring but we made short stops in Buxton and Bakewell. I went to one of the three bakeries that claim to be "the original Bakewell pudding shop."

I was relieved to find that the pudding was quite unlike the sweet Bakewell tart that one usually finds in the supermarket.

This was light and not too sweet with an almond base.

As a regular reader of Rattling On, where I have seen many photos of the wonderful scenery, architecture and other features of the Peak District, I was delighted to come across one of the dressed wells that she has posted about.

Dressed Well at Longnore

Ours was a very brief visit, on our way to Yorkshire. We hope to go back to see much more of this National Park.

Traveller's tales #1

2010-09-21T11:23:00.000+01:00

I didn't manage to get online at all while I was away but I did have my camera with me most of the time. I am gradually reading all the posts I have missed in my favourite places and I hope to catch up with everyone soon.

Where have I been? First to Oxfordshire to spend 5 days with my daughter and her family; then to the Peak District for a few days; on to York then a week in a cottage in the Yorkshire wolds. We saw parts of England we haven't visited before and our belief that England is the best place in the world has been reinforced!

The family visit was, of course, about spending time with the grandchildren. Here is Benjamin, now 6 months old, wearing the sweater I made. And here is Millie wearing the tiger face that Grumpy made!

Abingdon is the nearby town and on the day we went in there was an Italian market in the market square:

We sampled (and bought!) lots of olive oils, vinegars, truffle pate and wonderful breads. The Town Crier put in an appearance and everyone joined in with his "God bless the Queen and God bless Abingdon!"

We assembled a picnic from the Italian goodies on display and headed for the river.

Millie wanted to swim with the cygnet but Grumpy rescued her

and she eventually joined us for the picnic. What fun it is being two and a half but how exhausting for grandmas and grumpies!

I couldn't resist the autumn/winter collection in the Abingdon stores and here is one of the winter coats I bought, although I will have to lose many inches before I can wear it

Tomorrow I'll be off to the Peak District.

The Dabbler

2010-09-01T09:08:00.000+01:00

The Dabbler - www.thedabbler.co.uk is a new multi-contributor 'superblog' - bringing you all sorts of cultural curiosities. Make sure you add it to your daily reads!

Brit - who is co-editor of The Dabbler - has asked me if any bloggers or readers in the Random Distractions neighbourhood would like to contribute to a regular feature - The 1p Book Review.

There are all sorts of forgotten, out-of-print and neglected books that can be bought online (eg. at Amazon) for a penny plus postage. The Dabbler will be recommending some of these overlooked gems.

If you would like to recommend such a book (fiction or non-fiction), email your nomination and review (100-400 words is fine) to Brit via editorial@thedabbler.co.uk.

The focus is on less well-known books (so no Great Gatsby etc), but otherwise the only stipulation is that the book can be bought at the time of writing for 1p (or 1 cent) plus postage. Successfully published 1p Book Reviews will receive the ultimate accolade, a Dabbler badge to put on your blog or website!

I will be submitting a review or two, you will know if I am successful if that Dabbler badge appears here. I hope to see some of your reviews there.

End of summer

2010-08-31T11:45:00.002+01:00

Whatever happened to the summer months? After a very promising late spring/early summer period of brilliant sunshine, July came in wet followed by an even wetter August. We had lunch in the garden yesterday, the first time since 11 July. I have been filled with sympathy for the holidaymakers (those Grockles who usually annoy me! ) as they spent hours in traffic queues trying to get to the few indoor activities the region provides. North Devon has beautiful sandy beaches and stunning countryside but only the hardiest like to spend their holidays in the rain.

So what have I been doing on these rainy days? The cupboards are full of jams and chutneys, the freezer packed with vegetables from the bounty of neighbours' gardens. Friends and family have benefited from the time I have spent in the kitchen:


Courgette (zucchini) teabread


tomato and cheese pinwheels

Italian cheese crackers I saw on TV on a wet afternoon

choc chip cookies, for the fun of it

I have finished a little sweater for grandson Benjamin - the first thing I have knitted for him, I'm ashamed to admit. I have lots of patterns for girls' sweaters but I will have to look out for more for boys.

I will be very glad when August comes to an end tonight. I want to put the miserable weather and gloomy news that August brought behind us: two very dear friends were diagnosed with breast cancer but the prognosis is promising and September will be sunny and warm and filled with optimism. All will be well and all manner of things will be well!

So, tomorrow we set off on holiday. Our plans have changed many times because of family circumstances but we have finally settled on a few days in Oxfordshire to see Adelephant and family, then a few days in the Peak District before we go to Yorkshire. We are staying in a variety of guest houses, one smart hotel and then a week in a farm cottage. I'm taking the camera and laptop with me so I'll try to keep you posted. It will be interesting to become someone else's grockles!

Just because I love it, here is the Eva Cassidy version of 'Who knows where the time goes?' Enjoy the end of summer.

Exaggerated reports of my immobility

2010-08-21T10:03:00.000+01:00

This morning's mail included an invitation to test drive a mobility scooter. It was a personal invitation, not just a mailshot, so now I'm wondering who among my family and friends would think this funny? I may have the bus pass but I could still walk to the bus stop should I ever decide to use it!

A few years ago, on a Sunday evening, I answered the phone to hear a screech of surprise followed by sobbing and inarticulate mumblings. Eventually, I was able to establish that it was my friend Elspeth calling from Portsmouth to offer her condolences to my husband and children: my death had just been announced in the cathedral. It was a terrible shock for her when I picked up the phone and, I must say, I found it a bit unnerving too.

At the time of that incident I was undergoing chemotherapy and the death announcement, which I later saw in a copy of the cathedral bulletin, spurred me on to recovery. The offer of a mobility scooter will spur me on to increased activity. I wonder if I can make it to next year's London marathon?

Oh my hat!

2010-08-13T19:49:00.001+01:00

I have just returned after a week of fun with the grandchildren. First off we had Charlotte's first birthday celebrations. Here she is showing cousin Millie how to play the piano, one of her birthday gifts.

(There are lots of pictures of the birthday party on Charlotte's own blog. If you would like to see them please send me an email and I will get my son to give you access.)

I spent the last few days in Oxfordshire with Millie and Benjamin. We had a lovely time but there was very little sunshine. Just as well really as someone appropriated my hat!

It looks better on me, Grandma.

Dropping by

2010-08-06T13:08:00.002+01:00

I'm back on-line thanks to the newest acquisition, a laptop to replace my dearly departed PC. Now I need a crash course in Windows 7 and I'll be off. Unfortunately this is a short visit as I'll be heading off again tomorrow for granddaughter Charlotte's first birthday celebrations and then to Oxfordshire for a few days with Millie and co.

Those of you who read my son's blog will be familiar with his series on the Chief Trading Post in Bristol - a garden centre with a difference. Well, at long last I got to see it for myself last weekend when he took me there for lunch. Here are just a few of the things I might have bought to add interest to my garden. Fortunately I had travelled by train and couldn't carry anything extra!


a boat to go with the MM's anchor


a Spirit House for the quiet corner


a child-eating crab (we saw only the remains of the chair!)


a garden bench that might possibly squeeze you to death

an elephant to hide in the bushes

or perhaps a tiger?

We had lunch among some unusual characters:


Charlotte was not put off by the Blues Brother

each dining area had its own interest


inside and out!

They do sell a wide range of plants as well. I particularly liked this section

with its appropriate statuary

It is the most interesting garden centre I have ever visited and just in case you are wondering if these items really are for sale, here are someof their price tags;

£704.17 for a giant crab (minus child and chair)

And who wouldn't want this handsome fellow

for a mere


£2,028.93

All of the price tags are as quirky as the goods. It is a great place to go for lunch with a difference.

A brief interlude

2010-08-01T14:50:00.003+01:00

The combination of a faulty computer and babysitting duties has meant that Monix is unable to post for a short while, but the blog's readers' loss is the family's gain, as children and grandchildren will have the benefit of her fine company over the next two weeks. She promises to pop in when she can, so expect more family stories (unless there is something more interesting to say!).

In the meantime, for those of you who have taken an interest in the growing family: a picture of Millie in a dress created by Grandma, especially for potty training and playing in the garden on sunny days. We do love having such a skilled grandma!

Top and tail

2010-07-25T05:47:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, as I sat topping and tailing the gooseberries ready for the next jam making session, I was transported back to Saturdays in the 1950s when my sister and I would sit on the sofa preparing gooseberries and blackberries for my mother to make into pies. She was a wonderful pastry cook and made enough savoury and fruit pies on Saturday to keep us happy for the coming week.

My grandmother always came for tea on Sunday and there would be an apple pie for her to take home to my grandfather, who never visited anyone but enjoyed his share of the tea. Then there was the endless stream of cousins who called in for a cup of tea and a piece of Auntie Winnie's pie. My sisters and brother and I would eye them resentfully as they tucked in to our delights. But somehow there was always enough to last the week.

When any of those cousins came to stay, or we visited them, we used to be packed into beds like sardines - top and tail! That was fine if you shared a bed with a little sister or cousin whose feet didn't reach your pillow. Actually, I recall that pillows were usually confiscated by an irate adult when our noisy pillow fights got too much for them and we were ordered to settle down for the night.

I am fascinated by the way that a scent, a phrase, a fragment of music or such a simple task as snipping the tops and tails of gooseberries can bring all kinds of buried memories into life.

Summer in a jar

2010-07-21T12:37:00.000+01:00

Having heard Ghillie James on Woman's Hour recently, I couldn't wait to buy her book, Jam, Jelly and Relish. It is full of simple to follow instructions and fuss-free recipes.

I went to the pannier market in Barnstaple early yesterday morning to stock up on strawberries, raspberries, blackcurrants, cherries and apricots and spent a great day in the kitchen. I just had to try Muddled Berry Jam with a colourful mixture of strawberries, raspberries and blackcurrants

Then I prepared the apricots which looked so wonderfully golden and luscious that I had to force myself to tip them into the preserving pan

Then I used the rest of the strawberries and raspberries with the cherries to make Cherry Berry Jam, which Ghillie James describes as the tastiest of all the jams in her book. By teatime I had a box full of glistening jars to store until winter, when some will be given pretty tops and labels to give as presents and the rest will bring a bit of summer to our tea table.

Alongside the recipes for the preserves there are lots of ideas for making use of them. The book is full of lovely photographs of irresistible dishes, so one jar of Muddled Berry Jam has been set aside to make ice cream for granddaughter Charlotte's first birthday party next month.


from Page 64

The preserving mood was upon me and I spent the afternoon bunching lavender and drying bay leaves, all of which will eventually be made into more gifts.

It was a very satisfying way to spend a wet and windy summer's day.

Silver linings

2010-07-19T07:42:00.000+01:00

My husband and I have become like the two little figures in the weather clock since my mother-in-law came to live with us eighteen months ago: we cannot both be out at the same time. We make the most of the rare days when we can get away; last month we went to Westward Ho! and on Friday last we had planned a visit to the neighbouring county of Somerset.

We set off on our perfectly planned day: a 45 minute drive to the motorway and then a further 20 minutes to our destination, a couple of hours to do some shopping, have a leisurely lunch and walk and then back home by 6pm. We had forgotten all about the holidaymakers who now go home on Friday instead of the traditional Saturday changeover day. After two hours of inching along behind camper vans and caravans we still hadn't reached the motorway. Not wanting to spend our precious day off in the car, we abandoned the shopping trip and headed for the Fisherman's Cot:

This is where I came in October 2007 to meet my now very dear friend D of 60goingon16 (can it really be so long ago?), so I had some very happy memories as I sipped my chilled orange juice.

As I had expected nothing more interesting than shops on this outing, I left my camera at home but I did have my new all-singing-and-dancing mobile phone. I have been waiting for my son to visit to teach me how to use it but finding myself in this lovely spot, I just had to have a go at sending a picture message to my daughter. I sent her the photo of the bridge and by return she sent me this picture of Millie in the garden - isn't modern technology wonderful?

Last week we had to make the difficult decision to cancel our planned trip to see my brother on his lovely Greek island. The Fisherman's Cot offered a small compensation in the form of an excellent Greek salad:

After lunch and a very restful time by the river we returned home, not at all disappointed by our frustrated journey. We had a delicious lunch, a peaceful couple of hours by the river Dart, I learned to use my mobile phone and we had an instant picture of Millie at play. What more could we want?

Non-stop fun

2010-07-11T17:24:00.000+01:00

The visit is over and Millie, Benjamin and their Mummy have gone home. Here are just a few of the things we packed into the week:

1. Fun in the garden

When the animals have finished their tea party they obviously need to bathe

2. Fun at the fair

3. Fun at the park

4. Fun at the Big Sheep

bouncing with Mummy

down the slide with Grumpy

5. Fun at the beach

There is so much fun to be had when you are two years old.

Four and twenty blackbirds

2010-07-01T20:48:00.000+01:00

Well, perhaps not quite four and twenty but our garage and garden residents are increasing rapidly. With the survivors of the first clutch (2 or 3, we can't be sure) now finding their own food, Mr B has taken on the task of feeding the newest nestlings and their mother:

The nest is in the rafters of the garage so the lighting is poor and we can't get close enough to take better pictures. My husband climbed up to look in the nest while both adults were out foraging and he saw 4 little ones but today we saw only the mother and 3 babies with open beaks waiting for those delicious meal worms.

Mr Blackbird feeds his wife first and then the children.

I think they are wondering how much more these little ones can possibly eat.

Tomorrow I shall be seeing all three of my grandchildren. We are meeting in Bristol and then my daughter, Millie and Benjamin are coming home with me to spend a week in sunny Devon. That is the plan anyway but it has rained all day today so wet weather entertainments could be called for.

Deaf Awareness

2010-06-30T10:37:00.000+01:00

The parents of one of my former pupils, who is severely deaf, contacted me. Their daughter is coming to the end of her primary school education and they were not satisfied with the local state school provision at secondary level. They have chosen to send her to the same independent school on Exmoor that my own children attended but the Local Education Authority has decided they will not offer any support, even in the form of advising the staff on how to prepare to accommodate a deaf child in lessons. (That is a measure of the Every Child Matters policy, but that is another story!)

Of course I agreed to go to speak to the staff. I brushed off the cobwebs that have been growing in my brain since I retired four years ago, put together a presentation and off I went yesterday afternoon. I hadn't expected to see 60 teachers waiting attentively but, after a few wobbly moments with the unfamiliar audio-visual equipment and a few very deep breaths, I was off and it proved to be the most interesting and stimulating session I have ever been involved in.

Purely by coincidence, this also happens to be Deaf Awareness Week in the UK. The slogan this year is "Look at Me." This is a reminder that anyone with any degree of hearing loss - and that means most of the population over the age of about 55 as well as those who were born with a hearing impairment - needs to see the face of the person who is speaking. It also reminds us of the achievements of people who are deaf; deafness can make certain aspects of life difficult but it should not prevent anyone from achieving their potential and enjoying life to the full.

I worked in the public sector for most of my professional life. I saw a great deal of inefficiency and waste, countless unnecessary changes and projects started and not seen through, while the steady day-to-day work was undervalued. I wouldn't put my own children through the system but did my best to support those children and families for whom I was responsible. I was always a campaigner for change so I do hope the new coalition government means what it says about making local authorities more cost effective and accountable for their decisions.

Unfinished business

2010-06-22T21:34:00.001+01:00

A friend once asked me, "Why don't you just finish one thing before starting another?" That was about thirty years ago and I still haven't resolved the issue. I always have several sewing and knitting projects on the go; there is always at least one room in the house with half-sorted bookshelves, drawers or boxes just waiting for me to find time to finish; I've been working on the family tree for several years, ditto the sorting and assembling of family photos. I could go on but I can't change the habit of a lifetime by actually finishing something!

That particular friend had the most organised house I have ever seen but I confess that her tidiness used to unnerve me. I expect she felt overwhelmed by my chaos but we got on surprisingly well together, she with her routines and order and me with my rushes of enthusiasm for trying new things.

Our resident blackbirds are rather like me. They produced four babies and as soon as they fledged they started on another clutch. Mr Blackbird is busy feeding the first lot, while Mrs B is sitting on the nest. I'm afraid there only seem to be two fat little youngsters now, although it is hard to spot them in the undergrowth where they have taken up residence.

Yesterday one made it up onto the birdbath, so I think they will be fully independent soon and Mr B can get back to looking after his wife.

Meanwhile we have taken on some of his duties, providing Mrs B with a constant supply of food so that she doesn't have to leave the nest unattended for too long.

The garden is another example of my haphazard approach to life. I started with a plan; a very costly plan as I consulted an expert. We went through catalogues and design books and agreed on colours, shapes, height of plants and so on. Then my true nature took over and I have added whatever pleases me and the bees and butterflies. The garden will never be "finished" according to the plan, but I don't think I would like too much order there. Even this rose chose not to wait for one bloom to die before producing two more on the same stem:

Chaos reigns and I love it!

I am currently spending as many hours as I can in the garden, pottering about, reading and simply enjoying the abundance of life. It is an excellent way of avoiding finishing off those tasks that are waiting indoors.

One project I do plan to finish soon, though, is a quilt for baby grandson, Benjamin. Here is what I've done so far:

Twenty-four little boats, ready to be assembled. I'll have to press on because I'm already planning the next project, something for granddaughter Charlotte's first birthday in August.(Yes, Fern, I can hear you telling me to concentrate on one thing at a time. I'm sure I am better than I was thirty years ag. Oops. Perhaps not.)

A question of frogs

2010-06-15T10:26:00.002+01:00

Granddaughter Amelia, better known as Millie, is now two and a quarter years old. Her language development is a constant source of surprise bordering on wonder to us. I was having a telephone conversation with my daughter yesterday when we were politely interrupted:

Millie: I would like to speak to Grandma.

Mummy: All right, darling. Go ahead.

Millie: Grandma, I have a question for you.

Me: A question? What about?

Millie: I have a question about frogs, Grandma.

Me: I'm listening and I'll try to answer your question. What is it?

Millie: My question is - what colour are frogs? Are they green or brown?

Me: Mmm. That could be a tricky question but I think frogs are green.
Millie: No, Grandma. Orange! (Giggles)
Me: You caught me out there.

Millie: Now I have a question about food for you.

Mummy: Beware, mum, she gives two options but the answer is always a third!

Outwitted by a two year old. What will it be like when she is fifteen or even two and three quarters?

What ho!

2010-06-12T11:05:00.001+01:00

One of the first things we did when we bought our current home was to drop the name it had been given when it ceased to be a farmhouse. "I refuse to live in a house with an exclamation mark," I said. The house had been called Westward Ho!, now it glories in being plain number 20.

We went to visit the seaside village the house had been named after, which itself had been named after Charles Kingsley's book. We didn't stay long, finding the place run down and rather tacky and we haven't been back in the 21 years since. Until yesterday, that is, and what a transformation: bright new seafront buildings, everywhere trim and sparkling clean, everyone friendly and helpful.

In case you think I am making up the exclamation mark in the name, here's a picture of the Post Office:

(click on picture for a clearer view)

There is a beautiful 2-mile long sandy beach:

plenty of rock pools to explore

and the pebble ridge, which protects the nearby golf course from the sea.

Until 2008 local people would gather on the beach twice a year for "potwalloping."

Everyone would gather the pebbles that had been washed down by the tides and pile them back onto the ridge. I hear there was much frivolity and local ale involved. The ending of this practice has endangered the oldest golf course in England and destroyed another local tradition.

For those who find the sea too cold or too big, there is a very convenient beach pool.

Until yesterday, I thought that North Devon beaches lacked beach huts but Westward Ho! has a row of them. Behold:

I got really excited when I saw them. We used to have one on the beach at Eastney when we lived in Hampshire and we had great fun there when the children were small.

Up the hill, beyond the beach huts, we saw what we thought might be Bates' motel.

The closer we got, the more convinced we became so we turned back at this point.

Heading down to the esplanade again, we looked across to "our side of the bay." You can't make out our village because of the mist but the headland is Baggy Point.

We couldn't see any evidence of the shabby seaside resort of twenty years ago. The ice cream van, a stall selling shell fish from Lundy Island and a couple of cafes provide the seafront refreshments.

and we didn't have to have fish and chips, we sat outside at a bistro, enjoying the sea view and a very pleasant lunch.

Having wasted twenty years, thinking Westward Ho! was a place to be avoided at all costs, we fell in love with it. Should we move to one of the seafront apartments? Or perhaps this would suit our taste and pocket more:

I would still find it difficult to live in a place with an exclamation mark, though!!

In the garden

2010-06-02T16:09:00.000+01:00

May is the best month in my garden and we had some lovely sunny weather to encourage outdoor living. It has been lovely to have all our meals outside; to watch the blackbirds busy foraging for their hungry babies; to sit and knit while the bees were busy among the flowers.

Already everything is beginning to look straggly. I spent this morning trimming back the honeysuckle, ivy and shrubs that threatened to block the paths. The bluebells look decidedly grey now and the white lilac blossom is turning brown. Fortunately I remembered to take my camera out with me on several occasions so here is a brief summary of the garden in May:

The first of the poppies to open

with lots more buds waiting.

First strawberries

Helping the blackbirds out with meal worms

Completed cardigan for granddaughter Charlotte

and one for Millie.

Columbine invading the herb garden - not an unwelcome intruder

weigela florida

And what could be better than afternoon tea in the garden with scones made from one of Nan's recipes?

It is a long time since I mentioned the books I have been reading. I'll save those for another day.

Home

2010-05-28T09:58:00.000+01:00

My daughter is moving into her new house today. It is a huge undertaking with an active toddler and a new baby, so I hope the day goes smoothly. The new house has a large garden with a pond, fruit trees, a vegetable plot and plenty of room for the children to play. The beehives will soon be on their way from London and I'm looking forward to comparing Oxfordshire honey with the London honey we've enjoyed for several years.

I'm sure the house will be a home very soon. This poem sums up what my home is to me (except for the reference to the cat) and I can't wish for anything better for my daughter and her family:

I've come to know a place I can call home:

It walls me gently round, it gives me space,

It offers me stillness, it contains my fears,

It roofs me safely under, gifts me grace,

It is both books and art, colour and light,

It shelves and stacks me, my life storage space;

It's work and love and dust and green growing things,

It's laughter, friends and food, it's cat's own place,

It is so full of me and all I am,

I've come to know a home, a sacred space.

Rosie Miles

A miracle of deliverance

2010-05-27T12:25:00.000+01:00

"A miracle of deliverance" is how Winston Churchill described the evacuation of British and French troops from the beaches of Dunkirk between 26 May and 4 June 1940. More than 330,000 men were stranded, driven back to the coast by the advancing German army. Admiral Sir Bertram Ramsay masterminded Operation Dynamo, a plan to rescue as many men as possible.

A fleet of cargo ships, passenger ferries, barges and coasters was assembled at Dover and Southampton, with Royal Navy minesweepers, corvettes and destroyers for protection. However, the shallow slope of the beaches of Dunkirk prevented the ships from getting close to the shore, so smaller craft would be needed to ferry the soldiers from the beaches out to the ships waiting a mile off shore. 800 pleasure boats, lifeboats, Thames barges, tugs and fishing boats set off with volunteer crews, many of whom had never sailed outside coastal waters. Under attack from German fighter planes and bombers, dodging mines and submarines and under fire from coastal defences, they picked up soldiers from the beaches, took them to the waiting ships and went back for more.

About 338,000 British troops were rescued and, on the last night, some 26,000 of the French rearguard were picked up by British, French ,Belgian and Dutch vessels.

The 70th anniversary is being commemorated by a smaller fleet of small boats making that same journey under very different circumstances. Many of them took part in Operation Dynamo and have been proudly restored for this occasion. Sometimes I am very proud to be British!

Merry month of May

2010-05-23T19:24:00.000+01:00

There are twelve months in all the year,

As I hear many men say,

But the merriest month in all the year

Is the merry month of May.

(Oxford Book of Ballads)

We are certainly enjoying some perfect May weather with the temperature in the shadiest part of the garden reaching 27C(81F). It is so nice to be able to eat in the garden, starting with an early breakfast while watching the blackbirds zooming in and out of the garage with breakfast for their noisy babies. I managed to get this shot of one little open beak but Mr Blackbird soon hustled me out:

We think there are four little ones in there but it is difficult to get a good look.

Whether it's Shakespeare or H.E Bates, I can't help thinking of the darling buds of May as I look around the garden. My brother has asked me to refrain from posting lots of photos as they take too long to download, so I'll restrict myself to this peony:

"perfick" as Pop Larkin might say.

At lunchtime we watched the blackbirds still zooming around gathering food for their little ones while we ate some gorgeous local asparagus with hollandaise sauce accompanied by a perfectly chilled Chablis. I wish Mr Blackbird could have joined us but his only rest is a brief time perching on the lilac outside the garage, ensuring that no-one is following him into the nursery.

The garden ought to be declared a hard hat area as the birds skim our heads at high speed. I know that parenting is hard work but I don't think I was ever so busy as these blackbirds.

I'm heading back for the garden now: my husband has fired up the barbecue and he is cooking supper. Perfick!