Top and tail

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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.