cat on the mac

Three lies about chickens

2011-10-12T09:55:00.003Z

1 - Hens don't make any noise apart from the odd cluck when laying an egg.

Hens can be very noisy. They can cluck away for extended periods of time when they're unhappy and have learnt to clamour for your attention. Your neighbours WILL hear them and this may be as early as FIVE a.m. in the summer. A friend of mine was reduced to tears and eventually had to rehome her hens because of their early morning rowdiness. Their alarm call is even louder and will be triggered by foxes, cats and anything they don't recognise or feel scared of.

2 - You can move an Eglu (or other small run) around your garden every couple of weeks and stop your lawn from being wrecked.

In two weeks two hens can completely destroy an Eglu-run sized piece of lawn. It will take months to grow back. You will end up with many bare patches. Consider keeping them in a permanent spot and putting down wood chippings (from your own prunings perhaps). These can be changed regularly and the old ones composted. Make your garden hen-proof if possible and let them out for a few hours every day if you can. They'll be perfectly happy.

3 - Two hens are enough company for each other.

Except when one of them is inside laying and the one left outside goes bananas because she's on her own (hens need the security of a flock) and shouts her head off for half an hour or more. If you get three, hopefully there will always be two together and you won't have to spend your day squatting by the run calming a hysterical chicken.

Bored

2011-09-21T08:23:00.002Z

It's taken four years but it's finally happened. The wooden board as an acceptable serving item has spread from "gourmet burger" land to invade the tables of proper restaurants which had previously been immune and, really, which should know better. Am I being the ubiquitous Grumpy middle-aged Woman here, or do people really like eating off a piece of wood?

Ceramics are beautiful, their variety and use are limited only by the human imagination and the odd law of physics or chemistry. Hand-thrown chunky terracotta drizzled with iridescent glazes that combine and separate into multihued pearly grains can enhance something as simple as a plain green salad. Clean, achingly white bone china that spotlights dramatic swirls of raspberry and chocolate. Dark, secretive cobalt blue to bring the fresh, cream flesh of a fish leaping off the plate towards you. Or a dark, semi-matt slab of wood whose grain fights with the multihued food for the available light to depress and diminish?

Wood is beautiful too, and I've nothing against a bread or cheese board if the food is to be cut upon it and then served to a plate but I really dislike trying to eat off one with a knife and fork. The food falls off (plates have a rim). In all but the most trustworthy places the hygiene is doubtful (plates can be scalded). The server has no edge to grip and therefore his job is made more difficult. And I really don't want to think about the cleaning implications in those less-than-perfect places - cold, damp, mouldy, cracked wood providing a perfect breeding ground for all sorts of bugs. I'm a wildlife enthusiast, but not of that sort.

Stop, I say. It's Wrong, Wrong, Wrong.

How to protect your hens from the cold weather

2010-12-18T08:51:00.005Z

A little trick; just take a small tin of your favourite petroleum jelly and lay it handy. Catch your chicken. Hold her firmly, with one hand holding her legs and supporting her body underneath and the other cradling her back and wings so she doesn't flap. With your third hand hold her head steady so that with your fourth hand you can gently rub a small amount of petroleum jelly into her comb and wattles. This will protect these extremities from freezing and keep your chickens happy and healthy throughout the frosts.

Simple really.

promising

2008-12-15T08:30:00.017Z

If you like good beer and good food, or even just good beer, the centre of Chester can be a bit of a desert. You can head up a couple of sidestreets to the Albion Inn where the food is hearty and the ale real, although there seems to have been a falling off in quality of late, leading, perhaps, to their being dropped from the Good Beer Guide 2009. You can head to the Falcon or the Boot if you like Sam Smiths beer which is certainly good value. Duttons in Godstall Lane has real ale as well as a good wine list but the food is disappointing. A little further out the Fat Cat usually has a nice pint of something, but none of these come close to the beer and food Mecca that is The Old Harkers Arms (link on the right there>>) which is a good 10 to 15 minutes walk/yomp/stagger from the city centre.

Until, possibly, now.

The local Spitting Feathers Brewery have opened a brewery tap pub called, appropriately enough, the Brewery Tap in the historic and beautiful Gamul House, former home to La Taverna restaurant on Lower Bridge street, right in the thick of things. While the passing of La Taverna is definitely mourned, this pub is as welcome as a big glass of fresh orange juice the morning after. Six of us went to eat and drink there last night and had a whale of a time.

The main hall of Gamul House which is medieval, is now a welcoming bar where the excellent range of Spitting Feathers and guest beers can be quaffed. There's a smaller room off to the right where the noise level is a bit lower and everything has been decorated in a relaxed fashion paying homage to the age and style of the building. We soon settled in, drank a couple of pints and drooled over the menus - including a big board of specials high up on the double height wall. A bit of paper and pen were found and yours truly took on the task of ordering the starters and mains which turned out to be an error of judgement as it all went a bit awry at this point. The menu turned out to be not very well written in that we couldn't tell what accompanied each main dish and therefore didn't know what extra side orders to have. Most of the daily special dishes we ordered were not available because they had run out (fair enough) but they had not been taken off the board as no-one could reach it. And it was unclear what were supposed to be sandwiches and what "light bites".

Anyway. We ordered. And we did have to wait quite a while (more beer!) but the food, when it arrived, was excellent. Deep fried Cheshire Goats cheese was heavenly. Robin loved his garlic mushrooms on toast. John appreciated the generous portion of soup although the deep fried parsnip crisps on the top were still at deep-fried temperature. The only problem was the "devil sauce". This was the name we gave to the viscous cadmium yellow goo drizzled over the picked beetroot accompanying my goats cheese and also, apparently, forming the dressing for the "Caesar salad" that two people had. It appeared to be made of equal quantities of cheese and chilli and not in a good way. It was horrible, and hence the Caesar salads were nothing of the kind. Lettuce, parmesan, anchovies, garlic, worcester sauce, eggs are what you need for this dish - it's a classic and should not be messed with.

We were a little apprehensive after this, but the main courses made up for it. Two steaks were perfectly cooked and cod with leeks and mustard was excellent. My lamb burger was so good, I've forgotten what the other two people had! Whatever it was, was excellent also. The bill (for food only) came to £103 (or £105, we weren't quite sure) or about £18/head for 2 courses. We declined the offer of free coffee and told our waitress, who was having the evening from hell, clearly, to stop apologising!

It was the general opinion that all the right ingredients are here for a fabulous pub (with the exception of the devil sauce); a good range of great beers, very good food and exceptionally helpful and polite staff. The organisation needs tweaking, but that's not surprising for a pub that's only been open four weeks or so. We will be back. Often. Very often.....

(but get rid of the devil sauce, PLEASE!)

boogie

2008-12-02T10:31:00.004Z

Another bit of a hiatus caused by; having a horrendous cold/flu thingy which took ages to get rid of and hurting my back planting bulbs and not being able to get better because of the cold/flu thing which meant lying down a lot. Which is not good for backs. And some other stuff. But, hurrah, hurrah, all is better now and we can look forward to the Christmas-type festivities which will very quickly be followed by birthday celebrations as some of the people I know will be saying goodbye to their 30s in January including Robin. And Anonymous (!). And someone else we won't mention.

As a beginning to all this merriment, eight of us went to the Mill Hotel for a "dinner dance", i.e. mass catering and disco. With crackers and hats. The food was on the poor side of average, the DJ (who these days just sits in front of a computer, hardly moving, what a cop out!) was useless, but we all* had a brilliant time and danced a lot and sang along and felt very hoarse and achy the next day. Christastic.

*well, six of us

eggs

2008-10-01T08:28:00.001Z

Found on the horsetail (equisetum hyemale) in our pond. Any ideas what might have laid them? Scale - the dark bands on the stem are about 15 mm apart.

crap

2008-09-30T08:58:00.005Z

Sometimes I wonder if it's worth all the trouble and expense to filter tap water before drinking it and whether it might not, in fact, be worse for your health if that de-chemicalised water sits around growing bugs. And then, some weeks this happens.

large

2008-09-30T08:26:00.006Z

Robin and I had a conversation on Saturday that went something like this:

Me: I've bought more stamps by the way, so we have stamps now.
Him: Good.
Me: I got a book each of 1st and 2nd class and a couple of large stamps of each as well.
Him: Large stamps?
Me: For large letters, you know, bigger than A5.
Him: You need bigger stamps for bigger letters?
Me: Yes - since about, I dunno, a year and a half ago.
Him: Really?
Me: Yes, don't you remember they changed it all and started charging for bigger things?
Him: So the stamps are bigger?
Me: Yes, and they have "Large" written on them.
Him: *look of unbelief*
Me: (gesturing) Yes! Anything that's bigger than A5, so A4 or whatever, you have to pay more for the size as well as the weight. So you have to put a large stamp on them.
Him: So how much does it cost?
Me: I don't know! I just bought a load of stamps and it was about 10 quid.
Him: But I never send big letters!
Me: But you might want to! And it might be something really important that needs to go in a A4 envelope and if you don't put the right stamp on it it'll be delayed and the person the other end will have to pay more!
Him: But in that case I'd just put two stamps on.
Me: But you wouldn't have 'cause you didn't even remember they'd started charging for bigger letters! (jumping up and down now) And anyway, you'd be paying more if you put two stamps on!
Him: How much more?
Me: I don't know! I don't know how much stamps cost! I've got the receipt somewhere....
Him: Oh, God, it doesn't matter! I don't care 'cause I don't have to buy them anyway!
Me: *speechless*
(Exit one party to the kitchen to prepare dinner).

unrecycling

2008-09-12T07:21:00.007Z

more the engrish!

Those wonderful people at Icanhascheezeburger (link on right>>) have done it again with a sub site dedicated to unfortunate translations. This one made me think - "if only life were that simple" - as I spend yet another Friday morning sorting the rubbish for collection into pink bags (plastic & metal), green bags (paper, card, textile and carrier bags), white bag (glass & batteries), brown wheelie bin (garden waste) and black bags (unrecycling!).

A big thank you to Chester City Council for providing such an interesting pastime to make my day brighter.

garden

2008-09-11T12:10:00.014Z

Been meaning to take some pix of my garden but have been deterred by the bl**dy awful weather and the general failure and scruffiness of the garden thereof. But today I had to rush in for my camera to take this little guy's photo as it was the first time I had seen one in the new pond rather than constantly disturbing them while weeding.

The pond is not doing too badly considering we only dug it 10 weeks ago, the plants are settling in and the water is slowly clearing. Hopefully the six pond snails we imported from J's pond will do their bit and get all the algae eaten. The water beetle that came in with one of the plants is still buzzing up and down and a myriad of tiny funnel shaped things have appeared. Small insects hover over the surface and I was delighted to see a female pied flycatcher dart across several times to feed on these one day although it seems she was just passing through as I haven't seen her since.

Wildlife in general has done super well this year as far as I can tell; there have been loads more butterflies around than in past years (Chester seems to be a bit of a desert for them) and the blackbirds have had so many young that it's like a mob when they all visit. The blackbirds and house sparrows love the pond as well and fight over who gets to bath in the shallow end. This hoverfly is enjoying the asters as well as numerous bumble bees that have been ponderously buzzing their way round all summer.

Unfortunately the wildlife has done rather too well in the veg bed where the slugs and snails have eaten absolutely everything except the rocket, one lettuce, the garlic and tomatoes. And although the tomatoes are growing well there is too much rain and not enough sun so they all taste of mush. The garlic is super, but by the time half of it had been dug up by cat (mine!) there was hardly any to eat before saving enough to plant this year. Grr!

With all the rain the new bed I dug last June has gone bananas again and is a jungle rather than the tall but delicate screen I had envisaged and will have to be heavily edited again this autumn.

So that's my garden this rainy, dull summer. No honey bees, never did get the earth pizza oven built (although the dustbin full of clay is ready and waiting), too much rain, not enough sun. But it's been fun, mostly. Looking forward to the next instalment....

green

2008-09-03T08:57:00.011Z

Bored. I'm bored. Which is a pain because today is my Day Off following two days of frenzied and tiring painting and decorating type activity which resulted in the downstairs loo being a fetching and restful shade of green instead of a rather exciting and violent shade of traffic-cone orange. My day off is coinciding with The Onset of Winter, apparently, involving gales and rain and generally not-wanting-to-go-out-of-the-houseness which has scuppered any chances of gardening or going into town and lounging about there idling the day away.

So I have had to fall back on the old old pastimes of chasing the cat round while brandishing various grooming implements, reordering my jumper drawer and cooking myself an unnecessarily complicated lunch dish.

A small prize is available for anyone who correctly guesses the particular shade of green used for said downstairs loo. However, be warned, it may just possibly be made of recycled cat fluff and you may not want it.

An Unnecessarily Complicated Lunch Dish

Ingredients: 2 fresh sardines, filleted, two large ripe tomatoes halved or a handful of cherry size, a large chunky piece of bread, onion, olive oil, small clove of garlic, balsamic vinegar, salt & pepper, a copy of Eat Your Heart Out by Felicity Lawrence.

Method
Read Lawrence's chapter on Fish and Tomatoes. Have epiphany that eating more fish may make you feel better.
Go to the Fat Cat and have a yummy lunch of fresh sardines on toast with baked cherry tomatoes. Memorise the flavour.
Place an internet order with Abel and Cole. Have a bit of a worry about the ethics of shopping locally versus the ethics of supporting ethical grocers. Decide that as fresh fish and organic gammon is not available locally the internet wins out in this case. Order fresh sardine fillets.
Receive order and freeze fresh sardine fillets in pairs for future enjoyment. Defrost as appropriate.
Roast your tomatoes and chopped onion with some olive oil, garlic and seasoning for about 20 mins at 200C. Wrap the sardine fillets in foil and pop them in for the last 10 mins. Make your chunky slice of toast, rub over with cut piece of garlic, top with tomatoes and onions then sardine fillets. Drizzle over olive oil and balsamic vinegar and season.
Eat. Suspend worrying for enjoyment.

windows

2008-08-22T15:04:00.005Z

It must be a funny job being a window cleaner, as George Formby so enthusiastically pointed out. They get to basically go round people's houses and snoop into every room. And, in my case, since I am so utterly cack-handed at cleaning anything bigger than a pint glass that is made of glass, they get to do the insides every now and then which offers up even more snooping opportunity.

I don't really have a problem with this. All my embarrassing books already have their spines turned to the back in case "friends" or "family" should ever make it up to my "office". I wouldn't be posting a blog somewhere for the world and his wife to read if I was that worried about privacy. And our window cleaner seems harmless and reliable in the necessary departments of cleaning panes of glass and turning up at reasonable intervals to do so.

No, my problem with window cleaners is what to do when they're here. How can I avoid being in any one room while the cleaner is at the window of that room? Because I couldn't possibly just carry on with whatever I was doing while someone I don't know terribly well is, potentially, watching me from not very far away. And what is acceptable to be doing in your own house while someone is there? Does the window cleaner think I am a strange, anachronistic fifties style housewife who spends all her day hoovering and dusting? Should I be hoovering and dusting? The only time he came round and I was genuinely cleaning was one day when Robin was home as well and we were both cleaning. I bet he thinks "Lazy cow, that poor bloke finally gets a day off and she makes him do the cleaning!" Shall I sit at my computer and busily type away in the manner of someone who actually has something important and purposeful to do? Or shall I adopt my usual strategy and pass cunningly from room to room, timing it so that I am never actually in the same room while he is cleaning the window of that room.

I told you I was shallow and weak.

meme

2008-08-19T07:53:00.008Z

Thanks to Anna, who made everyone in the world* do this.

1. My uncle once: built a timber bin store with my Dad and then they christened it Fort Apache and played cowboys and indians. They were in their forties.

2. Never in my life: have I driven a car on my own. Passed my driving test at the age of 33, got terrified by French drivers, and gave the whole thing up as a bad idea.

3. When I was five: I was the youngest in my school, having started half a term early, and they made me present a bouquet to the outgoing headmaster’s wife wearing an apricot knitted dress with brown check border my mum had made. I had no idea what was going on.**

4. High school was: being picked on by the children from the Secondary Modern for being posh. One of them spat on me.

5. I will never forget: how awful it was always to be picked last for teams in games.

6. Once I met: what’s-his-name who was Blake on Blake’s 7. I had never seen Blake’s 7 so I recognised him as the bloke from Morgan’s Boy. I wish I had said this as apparently he was fed up of being recognised as Blake. I didn’t even put this right when I met him again years later after he gave a reading at my husband’s uncle’s funeral. Plus I too have met Eddie Izzard.

7. There’s this girl I know: who was asked to be on TV for a program called “Me and my big breasts” or something similar.

8. Once, at a bar: I was given a huge tip by a drunk Austrian and got accused the next day of stealing from the customers. The landlord was a tosser.

9. By noon, I’m usually: being well and truly pestered by the cat for tinned food.

10. Last night: I dreamt I knew Tiger Woods but didn’t know it was THE Tiger Woods. He looked like the guy on NorthWest tonight that isn’t Gordon Burns (yes, I am very bad at knowing anything to do with celebs).

11. If only I had: an idea about the future. No, cancel that, better not.

12. Next time I go to church: will probably be for a concert.

13. What worries me most: is what other people will think of me. Shallow and weak, I know.

14. When I turn my head left I see: a huge poster for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and a sofa covered on stuff waiting to go to the loft.

15. When I turn my head right I see: the garden green and lush in the rain and the sparrows having fun in the water on the garage roof.

16. You know I’m lying when: I’m being polite to someone who likes dogs. I really can’t stand them, in any shape or form.

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: snogging at parties. And wearing vast amounts of eye makeup and getting away with it ‘cause I was 17.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: the lead male, whichever play it was. Mrs Bradford and her English classes have a lot to answer for......

19. By this time next year: I’ll be a year older and approx. 365 pints further down the road. If I gave up drinking pints and saved the money I’d have nearly £1000. Maybe there’s something to be said for teetotalism.....

20. A better name for me would be: anything but Lisa. It’s so sixties, scouse and naff.

21. I have a hard time understanding: why people decide to have children. Apparently I have a maternal bit missing that almost every other woman has. Apart from most of my friends of course.

22. If I ever go back to school I’ll: be having one of my recurring nightmares. The other is trying to get somewhere on public transport when every bus or train I need to catch leaves just after I’ve realised it’s the one I want.

23. You know I like you if: I invite you round to my house. I don’t like people I don’t like in my house.

24. If I ever won an award the first person I would thank would be: the award-giver I guess.

25. Take my advice, never: have the chicken in a cheap restaurant. You don’t want to be a party to all that suffering and it’s not going to do you any good. Have the lamb or a veggie option.

26. My ideal breakfast is: a bacon roll with the bread dipped in the pan with 2 huge mugs of tea, cooked by Robin and eaten in bed while the cat is elsewhere.

27. A song I love but do not have is: Katrina and the Waves Walking on Sunshine. Well, I have it on vinyl, but what use is that these days?

28. If you visit my hometown I suggest you: don’t try to do too much. There’s so much history and stuff to look at. But walk all the way round the ancient city walls, that’s free and pretty good.

29. Why won’t people: realise that they ARE what they eat?

30. If you spend a night at my house: you’ll meet a very friendly cat if you don’t keep your bedroom door shut. But at least she won’t pee on your bed unlike the cats belonging to some friends of ours.

31. I’d stop my wedding for: the wedding car not turning up? That happened, but it was beforehand so it just made us late. Otherwise, hitch-free.

32. The world could do without: halitosis. Particularly men who think they’re the bees knees in their business suits but don’t bother to check their stinking coffee breath.

33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: eat margarine. Apparently it’s the last food cockroaches will eat so it must be worse.

34. My favourite blond(e)(s) is/are: my friends’ daughter Charlotte. And Legolas from the films, of course. Oh, and Smith from SatC.

35. Paperclips are more useful than: those gadgets for removing tomato cores. They don’t work and I now have three of them.

36. If I do anything well it’s: cook. But only when I’m cooking for people I like.

37. I can’t help but: default to comfy rather than smart. And obsess about the increasing proportion of white hairs.

38. I usually cry: after I’ve got angry. And at TV stuff. And sometimes when I think of my cat dying.

39. My advice to my child/nephew/niece: Being imaginary is hard. People will think you’re odd but don’t let them get away with it. Stand up for yourself.

40. And by the way: it’s stopped raining now so I can go and do the outdoorsy things I had planned for the day. Excellent!

*well, quite a few of them
** having done some counting, it appears this was while I was five minus one

Me at five. Or possibly four.

swinging

2008-08-10T15:25:00.002Z

Oh, my Gods, my shoulders hurt. And my back. And the bit round my waist and the tops of my legs. 'Cause Robin and I just had the best fun last night swinging with four of our closest friends.

OK

2008-08-09T12:16:00.002Z

"OK, what happened to the bees?" asks Joe in Vegas. Well, you might ask.

I deleted the bee blog because I was very sad and upset about what happened to the bees and it was a very traumatic few days. It all started on a Tuesday morning when I was happily doing the ironing and listening to the Archers omnibus when I looked out of the window and saw the sky was FULL of bees. Thousands of them. Issuing out of the hive they swarmed up and around, over the trees and houses, over my neighbours gardens, filling the air with their insistent buzzing. It was utterly terrifying. "Shit, the bees r swarming" I texted to Robin and then watched, dry mouthed, as the cloud moved this way and that over the suburb. After what seemed like ages, but was in fact about an hour, they began to come down again, filling our garden and covering the hive. After another half an hour they were all back inside.

So, they hadn't swarmed. If they had, they would have ended up in a tree or somewhere, in a tight ball with the queen in the middle, as a staging post on their way to a new home. I didn't know what had happened.

Then, the next day, at exactly the same time, they did it again.

Joe is probably nodding his head sagely by now, as he has kept bees and can possibly guess what had happened. Which was; after all the rotten weather we'd had for quite a while, there was a warm sunny day and all the new bees which had hatched had gone on their first orientation flight. They need to do this in order to work out where they live, so that when they become forager bees they can find their way home. This was never mentioned on our beekeeping course and I never realised that by keeping a hive in a suburban area I would be subjecting our neighbours to skies full of bees several times a year.

So, sadly, we had to pass over care of our bees to a beekeeper with an apiary out of town. I couldn't cope with envisaging angry and frightened neighbours demanding to know what was going on. And Robin agreed that the whole thing was just too full on for our quiet suburb.

We learned so much and enjoyed seeing the bees around that we hope one day, if we move to the country, that we will try it again. I feel a complete failure for now, and I apologise to anyone who reads this and realises that when I answered their query "how are the bees?" with "fine, but pissed off with the weather", I was referring to them in their new home and being economical with the truth. The happy fact is that the colony has survived and will have a long and fruitful life, I hope.

We might take a little longer to get over it.

Failblog

2008-07-15T12:42:00.001Z

see more pwn and owned pictures

Reminds me of someone.....

show

2008-06-18T07:15:00.006Z

Yesterday we* went to the Cheshire Show for a day of looking at cows, sheeps, pigs, piglets, sheeplets, cowlets, WI jam, cheese and horses. But no horselets. It managed only to rain for about 2 minutes, which was good, but was a bit chilly. Anyway, I couldn't resist taking a picture of these two groups which pretty much summed up the ends of the social spectrum attending. On our left we have the charming lady in the pink top proudly showing off her love handles and Calvin Klein underpants. On the right we have two youngsters from the Cheshire Hunt South Pony Club. The caption is: "Chav..............County."

* not Robin, who was home with a cold.
BTW have had to switch off comments for this post due to spam. Email me if you have anything to say and I'll post it.

Gloucestershire

2008-06-07T06:08:00.004Z

Up at the crack of bloody dawn today thanks to the sun but particularly thanks to the woodpigeons who like to stage an impromptu dance on the tv aerial every morning. Twang, clung, shatung echoes down the chimney which is not very cunningly just behind our bed. MUST pay someone to climb up and take it down since we have no use for it these days.

Still, we are awake all bright and early and therefore prepared for our foray into deepest Gloucestershire to visit Mr Roberts and collect our nucleus of bees. We will then drive back very much faster with bees in the car and hopefully arrive home before they work out how to get out of the box.

I will let you know how it goes but mostly here as I think the bees deserve a spot all of their very own.

gnome

2008-06-04T08:45:00.004Z

Bloody hell, what happened to May? I turn around, and here it is June already (my life, my life) (no, I'm not Jewish) (I think). It is definitely summer now, I know this because flowers have started to flower in the garden and then been beaten into the ground by rain and wind, skirts have been worn, even by me, AND even strappy sandals have been stood around in (but not walked in, oh no, I'm not that stupid).

Robin and I went to Paris a couple of weeks ago to celebrate my birthday French fashion, i.e. in a Parisian Provencal restaurant with 6 French people and 31 German tourists, a guitarist and an accordian player playing completely different tunes and the worst bottle of rose ever. We went to the Louvre and spent 1 1/2 hours having lunch and fifteen minutes finding the Mona Lisa and saying "isn't it small?". We went to Notre Dame and found a bread festival where we ate some cheese. One of the best things was the Rodin Museum followed by a walk down a Very Secure Street with Ministries and lots of Gendarmes and lunch at a cafe with a huge French salad with everything in it.

And on Friday we went to a new bar in Chester and saw a woman who should have chosen her seat a bit more carefully.

keeping

2008-05-15T06:10:00.004Z

I have a New Thing in my life. It is something I have been vaguely thinking about for a few years but have had not enough knowledge or momentum or not-being-afraid-of-new-things-that-might-involve-physical-pain to actially do anything about it. (gosh, this italics thingey is good).

I wish to keep bees.

In the words of the inimitable Eddie Izzard, I wish to keep bees and not let them get away. Because bees make honey (and wasps make jam). But not just because they make honey, but because they are interesting and I like seeing them around in the garden. So, for, as I said, a number of years, I have been doing no more about beekeeping than keeping a book about bees on my bookshelf, but now I am someway towards having enough knowledge to at least have a go at keeping some bees and seeing if I can not let them get away. I have been on a course for a day, I have learned some random facts (south-east, hackle, 93.4 degrees F) and some less random facts (knock a bee sting out, don't pull it, approach a hive from behind*, bees can't see white). I have seen a Queen bee, some worker bees and what they do in a hive. (The drones were all off somewhere else, chasing girls probably, typical males). I have broken new frontiers in looking silly in bizarre clothing. And I can't wait to get back there in a week or so and learn some more.

So, if anybody wants to know what to get me for my birthday, a couple of bees would bee nice.......

* seems a bit sneaky to me, but there you are

may

2008-05-02T10:14:00.003Z

May, May, hurrah, it's definitely spring, the sun is shining, hello trees, hello sky, skip about, hurrah. And it's my birthday in less than three weeks AND it doesn't have an "oh" on it this year so I can just enjoy it. In Paris, in style.

And you never know, I just may get round to learning how to do italic text on this blog type thing. Oh, done that. Well, in that case, if I can drag myself away from Icanhascheezeburger for any appreciable length of time, I may finally get round to doing some designs for future jam projects and getting that off the ground and rolling. Who knows?

Happy Springtime!!

sorry

2008-04-26T15:03:00.001Z

Horrible, horrible news today that Humph is no more.

exaggerated

2008-04-25T13:47:00.003Z

I am not dead. Despite not having posted anything for an entire calendar month because I have been busy doing things and therefore not writing about them. Some things I have done are:

Show a 20 year old from Phoenix on his first trip outside the US around Chester and try to explain how really, really old things are here without sounding like a Very Dull Person. And fill him up with lots of food and BEER which he is not allowed to drink in his own country. And then buy green eggs and black pudding from a farmers' market and threaten to cook them for him for breakfast.

Go to a joint 70th birthday party with an 80s disco. Take the huff 'cause somebody took all the wine away.

Go to another show of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue and laugh my socks off and learn how to play the Kazoo.

Nearly pass out from Reflexology.

Go on a Day Skipper course on a f***ing big powerboat and be completely terrified and wimp out and go home.

That's enough for one month.

book

2008-03-25T07:39:00.004Z

You're Alice's Adventures in Wonderland!

by Lewis Carroll

After stumbling down the wrong turn in life, you've had your mind
opened to a number of strange and curious things. As life grows curiouser and curiouser,
you have to ask yourself what's real and what's the picture of illusion. Little is coming
to your aid in discerning fantasy from fact, but the line between them is so blurry that
it's starting not to matter. Be careful around rabbit holes and those who smile too much,
and just avoid hat shops altogether.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Thank you (I think) to Joe for pnting this one out.

PS - does this mean Holly IS the Cheshire Cat after all?

whiteout

2008-03-25T07:25:00.004Z

We had the first BBQ of the year yesterday! A couple of weeks ago we were scoping out the garden centre for gap-filly-in-type hedging plants, of which we found none, when we stumbled across a very smart new BBQ at a very tempting price. Since our old one was on its last legs, we bought the new one and christened it yesterday. It wasn't great weather, a bit chilly round the edges, but good enough to cook all the food and for assorted children to wreak havoc on the garden with a football for half an hour. But, at the same time on the other side of the country, my parents were snowed in!

corking

2008-03-22T14:06:00.005Z

Hurrah, hurrah, jump up and down, it's the Chester Food & Drink Festival this joyous Easter-tide, and, for once, they've managed not to have it while we're away, hem, hem (as Molesworth would have said). So on Thursday evening, due to brilliant foresight by R (not Robin) and just-in-time ticket buying by yours truly, four of us convened at Corks Out Chester branch for their "Anything but Rioja" wine testing eggstravanganza. Gosh, what fun. No, really, it was good. A well-judged amount of knowledgeable (my spellcheck does not like that) talk about Spanish wine, lots of wine, no pretentiousity, ticks all round then. For a fiver it was cracking good value and we sipped and swirled and stumbled slightly over the uneven, but very historic, floor and then bought a few bottles. Then went for a pizza and tried to sober up and make a firm mental note to go back the next day to pick up the wine.

Which we managed to do. And, since I didn't take any photos of the slightly pissed posse, here's my cat mugging herself in the Easter Saturday sun.

Cheers!

marge

2008-03-19T08:51:00.002Z

Unfortunately I have had to delete one of my favourite places from the list of where to eat and drink well in Chester, the Albion Inn. As the annual Food & Drink Festival gets underway this year, this pub has managed to get on my really really bad side by serving its wonderful veg laced with disgusting cheap margarine which totally wrecked the flavour and spoiled the meal. Shame on you, Albion! When this criticism was made to the staff, no reply was forthcoming. Bart's mum would not have been impressed, and neither was I.

twitter

2008-03-17T08:41:00.005Z

Feeling slightly less like death warmed up this morning, I went outside to fill up the bird feeder and scatter bashed up biscuits for the blackbirds. All the birds have, of course, scarpered at the sight of me but the first ones back into the garden are the latest additions to my list of birds what I have seen with my own eyes, the reed buntings. There have been at least three males and one female feeding and hopping round the apple tree since a week ago. Very pleased.

For twitchers, here's the list of visitors to our patch of Cheshire: blackbird, house sparrow, dunnock, blue, great, coal and long tailed tit, chaffinch, goldfinch (no greenfinches seen yet), robin, wren, collar dove, woodpigeon, magpie, thrush (don't know which), jay, rook, sparrowhawk, pheasant, swift (flying above), starling. Reed bunting!!

And, to make my happy birday even more happy, I've just seen one of my favourites, a long tailed tit hopping about on the rose in the front garden, kindly eating all the greenfly for me.

embellishment

2008-03-15T13:08:00.006Z

I had an email from Farrow and Ball a day or so ago, all excited about their new paint colours. So I popped over to the website and requested a new colour chart, seeing as how we, or rather, I, have a bit of decorating to do this year. Downstairs loo, bathroom, bits where paint has been chipped off in other rooms. I like Farrow and Ball paints, they've got more than a hint of romance about them. They come in a chic brown and cream tin and, before Homebase jumped on the bandwagon, you had to buy them from a specialist supplier. The shades are subtle, the pigmentation is rich and the finish is deep and chalky. But the best thing about the paints are their names.

Who wouldn't want to paint their dining room Eating Room Red? Their pantry Cook's Blue? Their nursery Babouche? Some of the new shades are inspired; Elephant's Breath, Pavilion Gray, London Clay, Cinder Rose, Setting Plaster, Incarnadine, Calamine, Terre d"Egypte, Churlish Green, Pelt. Makes you want to set about every room in the house. But for now, we'll be sticking to the old favourite Cooking Apple Green for downstairs and Pitch Blue for the bathroom. Or maybe Porphyry Pink. Or Borrowed Light.

Probably not Dead Salmon though.

not

2008-03-14T07:24:00.010Z

Well, serves me right for being a cocky so-and-so and boasting about all the lovely trips that we have planned for this year. Because here it is, the first day of our trip to Rome and I should be on the plane somewhere over Europe with Ryanair cabin crew being rude to me and not caring because I had brought my own sandwich so HA! to their running out of food on the buffet cart. But instead I am sitting here with a throat full of ground glass and brains turned to mush because the vengeful angel of fate has decreed that I should spend three days in bed with a virus instead. And not even a sexy virus who works out and speaks in a foreign accent, but a slob of a virus that has a runny nose and snores. While the other two go off anyway and enjoy themselves. Buggerbuggerbuggerbuggerbugger

So instead here are some pix what I took a few days ago of my veg bed. This is the garlic growing strongly, at least the 15 out of 21 cloves that managed to escape death by Cat. (My cat = still the biggest pest of the veg bed.)

And here are the red mustard greens (?!) which braved the whole of the winter to enliven our salads and are now growing strongly in the warmer weather.

And, lastly, here is the rocket (arugula) which I didn't plant so I don't know what variety it is but which turns out to be perennial, hurrah, hurrah, cause I like it a lot.

And that's it. No staring at the wonder of the Sistine Chapel. No drawing statues of naked men. No pigging out on pizza and fabulous Romanesque cuisine for me, just dry toast and orange juice. Well, all I can say is, Robin better bring me back a present and take me to dinner at La Taverna when I'm better.

Marrakech

2008-03-06T19:24:00.006Z

Over a week since we got back from Marrakech and I'm still reeling from the sensory overload. The city bombards your senses from all directions, the rush of the motorbikes driven down the narrowest of passages and streets, the sudden electric shock of the calls to prayer, the scents, the overwhelming scents of orange blossom, dust, spices and rosewater.

It was possibly a good thing that the first day was overcast as, when the sun came out, the colours waded in as well. On the second day we walked out of the medina into the new town and visited the Jardin Majorelle which, Brit gardening enthusiasts may remember, was the inspiration for an award winning garden at Chelsea, I think, and certainly spawned a rash of Moroccan Blue garden features. Then people realised that this colour just doesn't work unless the sun is beating down on it.

But, wow, when it does...

The Jardin Majorelle is beautiful, but small and very popular. We coincided with a bus load of German tourists and several French. Which reminds me - I was pleasantly surprised during the whole trip by the polite Moroccans who didn't hassle us to buy things nearly as much as we feared. But the French! What happens to these people outside of their own country? Uniformly charming and professional in France (except in the touristy bits, perhaps) but, when en vacances, pushy and downright rude. I was jostled in the Museum of Islamic arts. I was positively pushed out of the way in the street. Both times by French women. Shame on you! I thought we Brits had the monopoly on boorish behaviour abroad....

We walked around the new town for a bit, went to a French restaurant for lunch, the Cafe de la Poste, which was a bit odd and had a very badly translated English menu. (More French arrogance - but then again so few Brits bother to learn the language I suppose it's understandable.) And chicken kebabs that tasted of fish. Oddly quite nice. Then we crossed back into the old town and wandered back to the sanctuary of our hotel.

Oh, what a tough life! Lounging around in cool courtyards or on the sunny roof terrace, with the perfume of the citrus trees all around. This was a riad, a traditional Moroccan house which had been restored within the last two years by an Englishwoman and her French husband. It was stunningly beautiful, with the highest chill factor of anywhere I've ever stayed. Except.... as all the rooms face into the central courtyards, and everywhere is stone and plastered walls, there is no escaping the noise of others, not even in your room. Thank goodness I took my earplugs....

Loved Marrakech. Loved the weather in February - 20 to 25 degrees, perfect, rained a bit in the night. Was amazed by the colours and scents. Bought a pair of silly slippers. Managed not to get a dodgy tum (top tip - DON'T drink the orange juice in the central square as there's no running water to wash the glasses in).

You've got to go.

price

2008-02-19T08:02:00.004Z

I needed to go out and buy some milk so I rang the veg shop yesterday to ask if they needed me to take down any more marmalade. And was told that the last batch sold out the day after I took it down, including one customer who bought four jars and a man who threatened to blow up the shop if they stopped selling it. That makes 50 jars sold and I can't quite believe that the good citizens of Handbridge are this keen to buy it. Surely if you liked marmalade that much you'd make it yourself?! Anyway, I went down with another dozen jars and bought up the last few kilos of Seville oranges left in the shop to make some more. I now know what I'm going to be doing every day until we go off on our hols on Sunday. Chop, chop, bubble, bubble. The smell of success is definitely sweet and orangey, but it comes at a price.

tripping

2008-02-15T08:20:00.003Z

I must, I must, I must, ring the nice man at the luxury boarding place for pets (complete with "pussarium") and book Holly the cat in for her hols as, most unusually for us, plans have not only been made but trips have been BOOKED and even paid for, to some far-ish flung, new and exciting (for me) places.

We kick off in just over a week with a few days in Marrakech as we've had no sun for a very very long time and haven't been bothered by street sellers in ages. In March my dear husband and his Mum are going to Rome for their annual pilgrimage to watch Scotland get hammered by a foreign team and this year I'm going along for the ride and to look at statues of naked men. And last night, Robin romantically revealed that he had romantically booked a trip to Paris for my birthday. Which is ace, as I've only been there for about two hours before and spent most of that time crying.

All this city life will, hopefully, be countered by at least a week in June spent bumbling about the Croatian coast in boats with a select number of Robin's cousins. Dates, duration and precise number of cousins to be agreed.

I realise that all this trippery will mean a carbon footprint the size of the Wirral but, then again, Robin makes planes and if nobody went anywhere in them, he'd be out of a job. Some holidays will enable him to relax and think more imaginatively how to make wings that don't need fuel at all, I'm sure.

BTW, it's a large fenced in area with lots of outdoor features and playspace in case you want to book in a whole family of pussycats. In case you were wondering.

bugged

2008-02-02T10:49:00.000Z

Damn. I've got it now. Achy muscles, muzzy head. Sudden desire for toast. You want marmalade with that?

(39 jars made, 29 sold).

fever

2008-01-28T14:23:00.000Z

Boy oh boy, there's a lot going on around here at the moment. Outside the birds are cheeping and chirping away as if they'd forgotten what a sunny morning looked like, let alone the TWO sunny mornings we've had. Inside the ancient old cat zooms around the house, up and down the stairs, on and off the windowsills leaving a trail of muddy pawprints and discarded, half-chewed toy mice. And I am constantly in the kitchen, chopping and stirring and boiling and potting to satisfy the seemingly insatiable appetite for marmalade that has been uncovered following my joint venture with the veg man to offer a jar or two to his more discerning customers. I can't seem to make it quick enough, and I'm certainly getting fit with all the traipsing in and out of town, lugging boxes of jars and bags of sugar.

I fear, though, that the rest of it is a bit of a false spring. Birds may be courting and buds bursting out all over the place but it ain't here yet. Robin, a case in point, is currently lying low with a nasty virus that has sent his temperature through the roof (although he still manages his 3 squares a day). There's still frost in the air before the sun comes up and I fear that if I get too slash-happy with the secateurs I'm going to regret it later if winter makes a big comeback and so are those birds.

Still, best make marmalade while the sun's shining I say.

shop

2008-01-21T13:58:00.000Z

I am in the shops! Or at least my marmalade is. The very nice man at Eden's veg shop in Handbridge has offered to sell these very jars to his lovely and discerning customers.

Go on, buy a jar. It's nice.

duckfurther

2008-01-16T13:46:00.000Z

I have been reviewed! and, more than that, a request! A request! Well, not really, more of a comment. Anyway, I apparently failed to say how the duckfest went. Well, it went very well. We started with vast G&Ts, courtesy of Ged, and canapes* of duck pate with citrus, and duck rillettes. The rillettes were not as exciting as I thought they would be, and possibly not worth the hours of cooking and preparation, but the pate was a surprise hit with everyone except Robin, who doesn't appreciate grapefruit marmalade in the pate. Can't win 'em all.

First course was salade a gesiers, or duck gizzards preserved in duck fat, then warmed through, sliced and served with a green salad. Tastes nicer than it sounds, I assure you. Gesiers are very rich but the confit process softens them so that they melt in the mouth.

Main course - cassoulet. I cooked it with pork belly and best pork sausages then served it with confit duck legs. I used Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's recipe from his Meat Book as it involved the least amount of faffing about and it turned out pretty good. Desert was a cake made with morello cherries preserved in syrup and cheese was cut into small pieces and filled up any empty corners left.

Sort of a preparation for Christmas over-eating really....

* canape also means "sofa" in French. Why???!

pure

2008-01-16T13:14:00.000Z

I am playing with one of my favourite Christmas presents again. Or, more accurately, I am playing one of my favourite presents again. A Pure Evoke 1-S digital radio is now my constant friend and companion, at least when I can be bothered to move it from room to room which involves unplugging the lead as I don't have a ChargePak for it. There are no ChargePaks in stock from the retailers of my choice so I choose not to have one for now. Hence not-very-portability. The other slight niggle is that I ordered Cherry veneer, it said Cherry on the box but what I got is about as Cherry as Blonde Doctor in Scrubs compared to Carla. Amazon did believe me, though, and refunded me the difference.

So, here I sit, listening to my not-very-portable not-the-finish-of-my-choice radio and it is still Wonderful. It doesn't hiss and crackle and go off tune. It doesn't require aerial acrobatics and balancing on top of tall furniture and then Not Moving Around The Room in order to get a decent signal. It even tells me what I'm listening to, in case of early onset Alzheimer's or otherwise in the case of "pop" stations, Being Too Old To Know Who The Band Is-itis.

But it does puzzle me; why is listening to the radio on the internet just Not The Same as listening to an actual radio? Even when the radio is right next to the computer? Maybe if I stare at the scrolling info screen I'll find out....

royaltea

2008-01-14T08:04:00.000Z

It was Robin's birthday on Friday so we decided to go to London and see how many things we could fit into a weekend. Took the tilty train down on Friday (blearghhhhh) with lots of pain killers and a large gin and tonic to stop my back moaning. (Bloody eight hours of NHS plastic chairs on NYE exacerbated by entire day of marmalade making on Thursday. Still not as impressive as Robin's injury which was caused by sitting on an office chair.) Arrived at hotel in Soho, dumped stuff, off to French House for fizzy drinks. (Back forgotten by now.) Mooched around and found a Persian restaurant which looked good, added bonus of bellydancer with birthday-dance-volunteering-husband-embarassing opportunity. Heh, heh. (Damn, no photos.)

Saturday - Boat Show. Lots of boats. Tried not to laugh at names (Fishmate! Merry Fisher! Yamarin!) Tripped over miniscule invisible curb and hurt back again. Cried. Took more painkillers & G&T. More boats! Ethically correct but slightly dull burger. More boats.........

Escape back to city. Posh window shopping. Realise are both about 99.9% dehydrated from ExCel centre and retire for tea at the Queen's Grocers. Order Royal Blend, seems only appropriate. Admire HM's choice for rehydration after boat show properties. Guess she must do an awful lot of walking around looking at things. Eat very small scones.

Back to hotel. Long luxurious bath and then fun game of Trying To Arrange To Meet For Dinner With Two Cousins* Who Have No Idea Where Chinatown Is. One of them arrived from the US a week ago on his first ever foreign trip so can be forgiven. The other has lived in London for a year and a half. Finally rescue the latter from the wrong restaurant and the former from under a tree by Leicester Square (UK cinq points, US neuf points.) Have meal with cousins and then show the US guy a real English pub. Try to explain London pubs v. different from non-London. Eventually give up shouting and go to bed.

Sunday - get up, discuss what to do, opt for reading papers on train home. Good Idea.

* Robin's again. There is an entire branch of family in US as well, of which we have met about 3%. This one was from Phoenix and had never heard of Robin before last year.

thingey

2008-01-10T07:55:00.000Z

In a very sort of casual, won't be dictated to by arbitrary boundaries kind of a way, I think I'm finally ready to do a review type thingey of the days that came with an 07 right at the very end.

Last year was pants for most of it. There were two deaths and too many visits to the hospital. Not enough sun and warm weather and too much rain so that the garden still resembles a jungle. Too much illness and an unfairly large dose of unhappiness mixed with sheer, bloody misery. No proper holiday due to several of the former.

Good things turned out to be; turning 40. That was a good day. Also, growing our own veg for the first time was fun and the salads were great. Discovering that things really do rot into compost was a revelation (for me). (Well, you have to find the positives where you can). A trip to Zagreb which could have been a disaster was fun.

The cap was well and truly put on the year when we spent most of New Years Eve in the hospital waiting for Robin to have a brain scan and lumbar puncture to make sure his sudden headaches weren't being caused by a brain haemorrhage. Thankfully everything tested ok and we were let go at 11.30 p.m. and rescued by A in his flying chariot and got home by 10 to 12. Which reminds me of the biggest positive of 2007 - friends. Thank you to those who made turning 40 such a blast. Thank you to those who let me cry on their shoulders and gave me good advice. And thank you to A who keeps on helping us out whenever we seem to need him.

And, 2008 has to be better. Has been so far, anyway ; )

treat

2008-01-09T09:17:00.000Z

If you live in the UK you may well have caught one of Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall's Chicken Run programmes on Channel Four yesterday or Monday. His aim is to get everyone informed and thinking about what cheap chicken meat means for the birds and for us, and to pledge to only eat free range or organic birds. I signed the pledge in October, which has not affected the way we cook at home much because we've bought only free-range or better for some years now, but it has made me think every time I eat out. No more chicken Caesar* wraps from M&S. No more easy option chicken curries or kung-po chicken. No more snacking on ready-cooked roasted chicken pieces (and none for the cat, either). Some of which I have missed. But, I tell you what, those chicken sandwiches made from the leftovers of a free-range roasted chicken are now a sumptuous treat.

Watch Hugh tonight on Four and sign up for the campaign if you feel you can. Another 400 people have done so while I've written this post and there's a link over there somehwere -->

*except for that one at Prague airport. But I was hungry and the waiter said it was ham and cheese. And we'd bought it by then and gone through security.

mayhem

2007-12-04T14:28:00.000Z

It's usually around this time of year that I and others become obsessed with Slingshot Santa as a way to avoid getting too involved with all the usual madness that happens. However, this year another friend has sent me something that is so funny it may cause you to lose control of your bladder, Elf yourself.

I disclaim any responsibility for upholstery cleaning bills.

Merry Mayhem!

duckfest

2007-11-26T13:58:00.000Z

While having dinner at Francs the other day, L and I were tucking in to our salads with crispy bits of duck (and olives that were wrong, wrong, wrong) and reminiscing about a meal I had cooked a few years ago celebrating the Gascon tradition of all things fowl and, in particular, the many ways of eating delicious bits of duck that we had enjoyed in and around Toulouse. (Which isn't in Gascony, but being right next door obviously steals all their best ideas.) So, we plotted to have a duckfest, which has now been planned for next Saturday, and preparations commenced yesterday.

One (free range) 2 kilo duck was ceremoniously hacked to bits and made, with the help of the fat out of two tins of (this is where my principles meet the French way of doing things and I really don't want to know) confit de canard, into some pate, rillettes and a lot of stock. Now "all" I have to do is make a cassoulet and think of a suitable pud involving cherries and we're almost there.

Holly had some duck and was then absolutely furious that no more was forthcoming.

personal

2007-11-22T08:56:00.000Z

While idly looking at my blog stats on sitemeter and wondering just how many of those visits are me or A (rather a suspicious amount of virgin.net traffic using OSX, although it tries to disguise us as being in Reading, Slough or London (if we're going to be geographically misrepresented can't we be somewhere more exciting please?!)), I noticed a referring page called Chester Wiki. I was amazed to find this blog listed not only there but also at The Deva Station, under category "personal".

While it's exciting in a mild way to be listed on any blogroll, and I can't think of any more pertinent category for this blog (vague? pointless? obsessed with Harry Potter?), it's a bit of a shock to be listed as personal. Because, while most of the stuff here is personal, it's at the entirely other end of the spectrum of actually talking about stuff going on in my life. You can't do that sort of thing, really, if you're not being anonymous. Or I can't, anyway.

So, in the colour range of personal things that can be talked about, it is now, thank Gods, Thursday. Day of worshipping household idols, banishing dust and the week's detritus in preparation for the weekend. Day of banana smoothies.

Oh, yes, that sounds good. I'm off to the kitchen.

Wednesday

2007-11-21T12:10:00.000Z

I can't work out what it is about Wednesdays. It's not exactly that they're worse than other days, indeed most Wednesdays include a meeting at the pub with friends involving Beer and hunky bar staff (just slipping that in, Robin, to see if you're reading ;p) (unless, of course we're at the Union Vaults, in which case the bar staff are not hunky and you're lucky to get a full pint of beer) (and actually, these days going the the UV is just to try and keep them sweet for the monthly Folk session). Although, of course, in recent days, months (bloody years, actually) the cheerfulness of at least one of those friends is so unlikely as to make the whole evening-Beer-thing a bit of a minefiled* and you may well come out more miserable than you went in and in need of even more Beer.

Shut up Lisa.

Sorry.

So, what is it then, about Wednesdays? Well, there seem to be more of them than other days. Yes, I know this is not possible. They are the furthest away that it's possible to get from the weekend, and weekends are good 'cause they involve staying in bed and reading the papers and lots of tea and bacon rolls and going out and having FUN and cooking things together and sweeping up leaves. By the time you get to Wednesday, though, you feel that you really have to get on and DO something with the week, if not then it will have gone and you will be no nearer wherever it was you were trying to get to than you were last Wednesday.

Which is a bit of a problem when, in life, you have no idea where it is you want to get to or whether you need to stop feeling guilty about not wanting to go anywhere.

Also; Bad Post always seems to come on Wednesdays, couriers come while you are out and gas meter readers keep turning up then. And also Electricity meter readers. (But WHY aren't they the same person when it's the same company that supplies both? Why? Why???)

Is it Thursday yet?

*minefiled. Something that could go off at any moment so is best shoved in the bottom drawer.

hovering

2007-11-20T09:13:00.001Z

My cat and I are at war most mornings. She comes upstairs and hovers around me when I'm on the computer, alternately glaring and purring, whatever she thinks might work to get me OFF that chair so she can curl up on the warm woollen fabric and settle down for the first snooze of the day.

Unfortunately, today she has WON.

former

2007-11-15T09:37:00.000Z

So, now not only am I crap at technology, I am crap at getting things done and it is Thursday again. The trip to a former communist country went like this:

Thursday; taxi, shiver on Chester station for 1/2 hour, remonstrate with small skateboarding scouse-type person, shiver, pack self on train to Manchester. Get off, pack self on bus with approx. 50% of entire working population of Manchester, arrive at friends house, speak to small child for 30 secs. Have dinner with friends and be harangued for 2 hours by Indian church youth worker asking assorted inappropriate questions. Finally breathe huge sigh of relief when he goes to bed and have normal conversation with friends.

Next day, break video cassette, scarper from house in taxi to airport. Find husband. Check in with Czech airlines. Play with new iPod. Have Angry burger. Get on plane to find approx. 25% of passengers are delightful people from Birmingham on way to Prague for piss-up weekend. Spend most of flight cringing as cabin crew attempt to control Brummies increasingly full of beer. Thankfully arrive at Prague.

Head for bar. Negotiate outrageous euro-czech thingey currency exchange with waiter. Drink beer. Buy sandwich purporting to be cheese and ham. Go to departure gate. Is most depressing place in the world with most bored security personnel ever. Share sandwich which turns out to be chicken Caesar. Nice though. Wait for delayed flight. Get on plane with about 5 other people.

MOST TERRIFYING FLIGHT IN THE WORLD EVER. Plane with whirry round things instead of jet engines. Flying over alps and Croatian mountains in a gale. EVERYTHING clenched. Am somehow reborn into Zagreb airport. Met by second cousin twice removed last seen when 8 years old. Is now tennis "semi-pro". This is not well-paid job in Zagreb. Drive to hotel, bed.

Saturday - yummy hotel breakfast with all you could possibly want. Pig out on fruit. Meet first cousin with wife and 2 small children. English speaking generation fortunately. Entertain selves by giving 3 yr old a lot of chocolate while sitting on white sofa in hotel lobby. Amazingly no mess. Later, tennis pro arrives, 1/2 hour late as father crashed car in morning, to take us to BBQ in almost-finished house of another cousin. Many, many people, much food, a bit cold. Cat yearns for BBQ. Eat, drink, take short muddy walk. Observe wife of car-wrecker from safe distance as does car-wrecker himself. Leave at dusk as temperature now Siberian and no heating in house due to refusal of cousin to bribe gas-connecting official. Hotel, bar, embarrassed by pissed-up Brits playing drunken two finger tunes on grand piano, order Caesar salads, turn out to be bacon salad with cheesy sauce. Nice though.

Sunday - Up late. Taxi to another cousin's for lunch. Traditional St. Martin's day meal of sausage, sauerkraut, black pudding, veal etc. (Small meals unknown in Croatia). Agree to meet up next summer for fab boating holiday on Dalmatian coast. Driven to grim ex-communist block of flats for force-feeding by aunt with fabulous fresh home-made doughnuts, cake and more cake. Three hours later escape, groaning with cake, to hotel. Large notice announces welcome to London Philharmonic Orchestra. Hope they won't embarrass us by pissed-up playing of piano in bar, etc.

Morning - desperately early to airport, journey via Prague in reverse although involving fewer drunk Brummies and less screaming and clutching of armrests but more searching of bags following x-ray of huge Croatian sausage-type thing which looks like bomb. (No jokes, please). Manchester, motorway, home to freaked out cat. Apparently Bigger Cats Came and ate all her food. Guilt, guilt.

Sleep for three days.

PS - all references to cousins, aunts etc. are to relatives of Robin, not me. I'm English, doncha know. (i.e. made up of too many races to identify any relatives at all.)

hiatus

2007-11-08T07:31:00.000Z

Oh dear, I am crap with technology these days. I think my programming is still DOS based and hence I'm more and more incompatible with everything. I'm off today to Manchester and then Zagreb for the weekend tomorrow so was trying to work out how to do mobile blogging in an effort to keep up the NaBloPoMo good work but, can't even figure out how my new phone does things that aren't SMS but are more multimedia, so that's that then. It's bad enough trying to work out how to pack a pair of boots into a 100 ml bottle for the plane.

So, unless I find internet in the former communist country I won't be here again till Monday. Instead I will be drinking very cheap beer, surrounded by most of Croatia (to whom Robin is related), being out in cold, sunny, dry weather, eating sausages and pancakes and being kissed by lots of very old women dressed entirely in black.

Doberdan!

(I don't know the word for goodbye)

six

2007-11-07T07:44:00.000Z

In time honoured blogging tradition here are three things that are good about Chester:

- small. A compact, pedestrianised city which makes getting around and seeing everything easy. No huge trips down miles of busy streets to get to the shop or restaurant of your choice, as happens in Liverpool and Manchester

- history. The place reeks of the stuff. From Roman ruins, including the biggest amphitheatre in the UK, to Victorian fake tudor buildings there's not a single bit of it that hasn't been interfered with many, many times in the past

- friendly. There's a good chance of meeting someone you know every time you go into the city and I still feel safe walking alone at night.

And three not so good:

- organisation sucks. Sometimes it feels as though nothing will ever get done.

- growing drug problems. Comparatively Cheshire did not have a big drug using population in recent years but that cheap train route to Liverpool is making its presence felt.

- dull. Just a bit. But Liverpool and Manchester are there when it all gets a bit provincial.

Fat

2007-11-06T10:18:00.000Z

Robin and I got a bit of a shock on Friday when, gasping for a drink, we dodged into The Fat Cat for a quick half. It had been done out (or is that done over?) The management had decided to scrape 15 years of grime off the walls and replace it with big bold wallpaper accessorised by lots of soft lampshades. The tables and chairs had been given a severe smartening up and a comfy seat installed along one wall. Result! A very pleasant space to relax in, we thought. So we went back on Sunday and had a late lunch. Unfortunately the food could still be improved on.

meeja

2007-11-05T10:14:00.000Z

Ever since Virgin became "meeja" they have been rubbish. Hence this post and yesterday's being backdated since being without internet connection for two days. It's really not good enough when you are paying £17.99 a month for crap broadband speeds. Am definitely going to be reviewing our ISP...but first I have a lot of blogs to catch up on.

Francs

2007-11-04T10:11:00.000Z

A double birthday celebration saw ten of us convening at Got Wine! for cocktails followed by a meal at Francs. A bit of a Chester institution, this restaurant, we hadn't been since a change of management and total revamp. Gone is the dark interior, crowded with marble topped tables and walls covered in enamel advertising and the odd velo. Instead, a lighter, brighter interior and better arrangement of space.

The menu was better too. The food at Francs has always been slightly odd, not so much French as an English idea of what French should be. However, it was not an improvement that the waiting staff all seemed to be English and couldn't understand the orders when given in the French version of the menu. And the food, although good, was still a bit odd. Cassoulet was served in a small, hollowed out loaf (wtf?!). Maincrop floury potatoes were served instead of the advertised new potatoes - yes, seasonal eating is great but menus should be accurate. And whole olives thrown into a salad of shredded roast duck (which had actually been refried and crisped up) are just wrong, wrong, wrong.

The place was emptier than I have ever seen it, which was a shame as they are trying hard. Just need to relax a bit and simplify things and they could be there. Three courses and our usual shameful consumption of nearly a bottle of wine each was £40 a head. Good effort, could be improved.

lavender

2007-11-03T17:31:00.000Z

Things I wish I had known No. 1: lavender oil can be used neat on the skin in very small quantities to zap any spot, infection or small patch of red skin. My adolescent self curses me for not knowing it.

note

2007-11-02T07:38:00.000Z

The best possible start to any day. Go and write a note to someone you love.

speccy

2007-11-01T07:22:00.000Z

As a couple of people whose blogs I read have pointed out, it's National Crap Posting Month or something, which means any old drivel will do (well thank Gods I don't have to raise my level then) just as long as you post every day for November.

Apart from, why couldn't they have made it February?, I think this is a challenge I may almost be capable of.

Although I usually wear contacts, I recently splashed out on a new pair of glasses, being almost cartoon comically short-sighted and my old pair never having been quite the same since I sat on them (because I couldn't see them). There must have been some advances in lens-making in the past four years because I can see really, really well through these new ones. Even the edges.

Oh, you're supposed to clean them?

Samantha

2007-10-31T07:18:00.000Z

Last night we trekked our way through some horrendous traffic over to Manchester to meet up with our friends and go to the Opera House and watch a show of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, the "antidote to panel games". Or, as one of the theatre announcers coined it, "I'm sorry I haven't got a clue". Obviously not a fan.

For those of us who have been listening to the genius lunacy that is this radio show since it started in the seventies, there were definitely questions to be answered. Was Colin Sell as sad as Humph makes out? What exactly is the "state of the art laser display board"? What ARE the rules to Mornington Crescent?

If you want to know, I'm afraid you'll have to go to a recording yourself. Sign up for the newsletter and wait until one comes round near you and then go and have one of the best evenings of your life. And listen up for the new series starting on Radio 4 very soon - we are there for both of the Manchester "shows".

And the lovely Samantha? Not what I was expecting, that's for sure.....

apples

2007-10-30T09:25:00.000Z

Must remember to pick apples today once the dew/rain has dried in order to take them to Manchester tonight for the small children of friends who eat a lot of apples. And these apples are particularly suitable for small children, being small and very numerous, the result of startling our ancient apple tree into productivity by acquiring a crab apple at the crucial time of year so that pollination could occur. Next year must remember to thin the fruit and we might get something approaching a decent size.

Although that hasn't helped my Mum whose recently harvested store of apples has been comprehensively raided and ruined by the plague of rats they are suffering over there on the east coast. Farmers leaving piles of sugar beet in the fields close by last year has led to a population explosion and, despite constant baiting with poison, they are still increasing. Here's hoping for a hard winter to crash the population - there's already a complete failure of this years beet crop due to all the rain so that might do it.

Even here in Chester my friend J has had an infestation of rat. She spotted it helping itself to the contents of her compost bin and, after a while, called the council in to deal with it. They laid bait and Ratty was seen no more. J feels bad about this, but I tell her she should be glad she doesn't live in Norfolk.....

Amazon

2007-10-19T06:22:00.001Z

So, apparently you can buy EVERYTHING at Amazon now.

Usually ships in 9 months. Hmm. And not eligible for free super saver delivery.

Maybe a pair of Manolos instead, then.

library

2007-10-19T05:56:00.000Z

One of the things I forgot to say in my précis was that we got burgled a few weeks ago. Some guy who'd been out of prison a couple of weeks had been passing by our house and spotted my handbag in the hall. Bored of a crime-free life, he'd climbed over the back gate, found the back door open and come in and helped himself, all completely unbeknownst to the two of us who were in the house at the time. Rumaging through the bag down on the water meadow at the end of our road he found only a load of old tat and about £6.85 in cash BUT also a car key. He then came back to the house and helped himself to Robin's 6 month old VW Golf. Again, unknown to us. A couple of hours later, Robin went out to the car and found it wasn't there.

Anyway (Jeremy Paxman impression), we got the car back. I found my handbag complete with credit cards and driving licence. The police took it away for fingerprinting. Several phone calls later I now assume it's lost in some evidence drawer in some lab somewhere. So this week I've been getting round to replacing all those bits of paper and plastic. Credit and debit cards - free. Phone card and donor card - free. Driving licence - £22. And library card - £1.50.

One day soon I have to do an insurance claim for all this. But first I have to read this huge pile of library books....

delinquent

2007-10-15T14:33:00.000Z

My vet has a lot to answer for. I took Holly, our cat, along for her annual cough and jab checkup last month (which is vital if you don't want the guarantee to run out on your pet of choice) and, while I was there holding on to her shoulders so she couldn't sneak back in to the carrier and hide from the needle, I mentioned that she'd been a bit clicky in the joint department. From, oooh, about a few weeks before we last brought her, a year ago.

Vet (new chappie, not seen him before, younger than me as are almost all people I meet these days) assumes thoughtful expression while continuing to knead furry abdomen. And then gives his verdict. Considering how old she is (how old is she? We don't really know as she was a second-hand purchase from the Cat's Protection League (as was) and we guess she's about 15 or 16 and have this debate every year) she's apparently in very good health. But he could recommend a food supplement to try, they only make it for dogs at the moment but it benefits cats as well; just give her half a chew a day and the glucosamine should help with mobility.......

Six weeks later I have a cat with a new lease of life. It's wonderful to see as she bounds around the garden, up and down the stairs. However. She also wants to go out cavorting with her chums all the time at night, even though she's been grounded for three years, constantly demands to be played with, won't sleep if she thinks she can get some attention and whinges that she's not tired when she's put to bed. I think it's only a matter of time before I see her skateboarding down the street with the other "yoofs" and running foul of the law.

Blessings. Always mixed...

intense

2007-10-13T08:24:00.000Z

I have been sent a personal email today by that very good friend of mine, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, the demigod of the Good Life, 21st century style. Well, alright, I'm on the River Cottage mailing list so I wouldn't claim to be in the inner circle, but at least I'm not one of those hordes of female groupies on facebook or myspace or something where he's supposed to have at least three fan clubs. But, if I'm honest, only 'cause I can't get them to work.....

I digress. The point is that Hugh wants us to sign up to Chicken Out! and pledge not to support the massive poultry rearing industry which means that ALL of the chicken we eat that isn't labelled organic or free range is reared in unspeakable conditions. We're a healthy, wealthy nation and we don't need to eat this meat. Yes, organic chicken is about 4 times as expensive as broiler chicken, but the cost of the cheap meat is animal suffering. Try to eat organic chicken, but eat less of it if you're on a budget. Sadly, this also means really thinking about what's in your ready prepared meals, dinners out (DON'T have the chicken curry! Go for veggie) and fast food.

I would also recommend reading Felicity Lawrence's book for an insight into some of the uncomfortable truths about what's behind the food industry in the UK today.

ketchup

2007-10-10T06:35:00.000Z

My reader, A, with whom I spent several hours of Saturday and Sunday last weekend passing large pieces of paper back and forth in a darkened room*, had pointed out that I would have an awful lot to catch up on should I recommence blogging. I see this as a challenge in what Mrs Bradfield used to call "précis".

I went to see a nurse who practised a new form of stabby torture art for half an hour before I ran away to the hospital and thankfully submitted to the practised hands of a phlebotomist who extracted the required armful of blood in less time that it has taken to type this. The results all came back negative and I was told to go away and stop being a slob, basically.

I went to the Southport Flower Show in the rain on a train and to the England Open Chainsaw Carving Championship in no rain and bought an eagle carved by a man who claims to be called Bruce Thorsteinson.

Autumn happened** and I harvested my tomatoes (pitiful) and my chillies (not bad, considering).

We took a three week holiday and pretty much failed to go anywhere but had some fun anyway.

So there we are! All up to date. It's Wednesday again and the postman has just been and delivered two exciting parcels which I must go and open so I shall leave you with my eagle.

* But not a darkroom, apparently
** The proper name for "Fall"

Sarah

2007-08-09T17:36:00.000Z

I wanted to post a picture of my lovely friend Sarah, enjoying an evening in the sun with her dog; Dougie.

Sarah had asked Robin and me to come round and take some photos, not of her but of the dog, as he was a new addition to the family and she was so proud of him and so happy that she wanted some pics to send to friends. It was back in 2002 and digital cameras were a bit of a novelty. Dougie was a rescue dog from the local kennels in our bit of southwest France and he was very hyper but already starting to settle down due to the love and attention he was getting.

Sarah died this week after a few months battle with a rare form of cancer. Those of us who were lucky enough to know her and spend time with her still can't believe that this beautiful, energetic, passionate woman will not see another cloudless blue sky, go trekking with her horse across the hills of Tasmania or spend another evening in laughter and friendship. Sarah was as different from me as chalk to cheese, but I was lucky enough to be her friend and I will remember that and be glad in my heart for always.

August

2007-08-08T13:20:00.000Z

We appear to finally have some proper summer, as an English August should be, not too hot (25 degrees) and a lovely cool breeze wafting around just makes you want to get out there. And this is what greets us when we do:

the new bed I planted up <2 months ago is rampaging away after all that June and July rain

and includes Crocosmia Lucifer just coming into flower

as well as Echinacea Art's Pride.

Echinaceas were virtually onknown in the UK when I started gardening 11 years ago, I understand they hail from North America. The Salvia Uliginosa is just coming into flower too.

Elsewhere the hydrangea aborescens is drooping blowsily in the shade with all the rainy lush growth - last year I almost lost this plant due to the drought:

and the Victoria plums are just beginning to ripen, at their best fresh scented sweetness.

Two of my favourite flowers soldiering on as well; geranium Ann Folkard which weaves its long stems through everything else and delights with golden foliage and magenta flowers

and potentilla Monarch's Velvet at its best in the sun.

Happy days.

pants

2007-07-27T06:26:00.000Z

Going to the cinema is rubbish now. They've closed the Odeon in town so there isn't one you can walk to which means a car trip to your choice of desolate edge of town shopping estate. The clamour for choice in movie time means that there are about fifty "screens" showing the same 5 films at hourly intervals and each "screen" is therefore about the size of a tennis court. Even so, only twenty people show up but, because going to the cinema is no longer an occasion, proceed to make as much noise as the 300 you would have shared the screen with in the good old days. The soundproofing is so bad that, in the quiet bits, you can hear both of the films next door, and for this you have paid £5.80 each, which is OUTRAGEOUS enough without factoring in that if you had wanted to book your tickets online it would have cost you an extra £1.30 EACH.

Maybe I would have noticed all this less if the latest Harry Potter film hadn't been a bit..well, like the book really, long, angsty and with no real plot. But there was one good thing. Everything else was so dire that Michael Gambon's rendition of Dumbledore shone out by comparison. Makes me think the last two films, in which he will have bigger roles, won't be quite so appalling after all....

fin

2007-07-22T10:59:00.000Z

Well, I was right about some things. And wrong about others. I wasn't expecting the first death at all, which was a shock and very sad. At the beginning I managed to pace myself, savouring every page but, like a choco-fiend who can't help themselves, I ended up cramming it all in and feeling slightly out of it at 1 a.m. this morning.

And now we do indeed Know It All. The adventure is over, on the shelf.

What will life after Harry be like?

one

2007-07-20T06:46:00.001Z

Tomorrow we will have it. Tomorrow we will know. Tomorrow the fate of Harry Potter will be revealed.

I think I'm going to spend the day with my head under the duvet going "Nooooooo! Make it go away!" I really don't want to know. But I do want to know if my guesses are right.....

I'm in the Snape is good camp. But my own little twist is that I think, since he saved Draco from having to kill Dumbledore, that he will end up saving Draco from Voldemort and Draco will come over to the good. But I think Snape will die in the process and everyone will be horribly guilty afterwards.

I think Harry will return to Hogwarts despite what he said at the end of HBP. There's still too much ancient magic and too many secrets in the castle - he's going to need them, and Dumbledore can still guide him if he's there. And there's going to be some guidance from Hagrid. In the first book we learned he was "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts" but since then he's just been referred to as the gamekeeper. I think those keys are going to unlock some secrets.

I don't think Harry will die. But I think his defeat of Voldemort will change him so much he won't be the same person. Perhaps he will lose much of his magic power. Perhaps he will finally get rid of his scar....

yearghhhhhhhhh

2007-07-13T13:13:00.000Z

I have just had a very upsetting experience, an utterly disgusting bowl of soup. Well, when I say "bowl" I mean several mouthfuls. Then the metallic vinegary taste started to make me feel sick and I couldn't go on. Here's what carrot and coriander soup should taste like:

some carrots
an onion or two depending on how many carrots
vegetable stock (I always use Marigold Bouillon powder) or water
orange juice (which will sweeten and deepen the carrot flavour)
fresh leaf coriander (cilantro)
salt & freshly ground black pepper

Peel carrots & oinion and chop into chunks, put in saucepan. Add enough vegetable stock or water to cover completely. Season lightly with salt and black pepper. Bring to boil and simmer for 20 minutes, or until carrots are tender. Remove from heat, add a glug of orange juice and fresh coriander to your liking and blitz with one of those stick blender thingies. Taste and adjust seasoning - add more water or orange juice if too thick. Yum!

combien?

2007-07-13T08:51:00.001Z

Numbers, numbers, numbers. There's another non-sentence that Mrs Bradfield would have made me reconstruct, but, hurrah, I'm not 14 anymore and anyway I got an A for English Language so ya boo sucks.

Today is Friday the 13th, which is supposed to make us all walk under ladders or something. And yet it's only 8 days to the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which ought to have the population of China jumping up and down for joy. In another context, I did write a letter to the patients advice and liaison service about the inappropriateness of the 0 to 3 scale but I haven't managed to get out and post it yet due to a lingering tendency to suddenly lie down at inconvenient moments. I had my tooth taken out on 7/7/7 which some said was lucky but the surgeon and I agreed we didn't believe in luck.

And, following where others lead as usual, I got rated

for having the word pain x3 on my blog. Oh, crap, that's 4. Oh, damn....

2.5

2007-07-10T08:32:00.000Z

I am now minus one wisdom tooth; at least I hope I am, they could have just poked around a bit and sewn it up again for all I know. And when I try and peer into the dim corner of my mouth I can see worrying white bits under the cut gum. Jawbone? Bits of root left in? Who knows, I can't yet open my mouth much further 'an 'at, it still being a bit sore and all. Happily I am not doing much of a hamster impression although I still have a thick lip and suspect the anaesthetist might have punched me in the gob for being such a wuss and having a general. Apart from the sarcastic anaesthetist, the staff at the Jubilee Day Surgery Centre were all lovely and very professional and made it all as easy as possible. Except -

- except, what the eff do hospitals think they are doing with pain relief???!!!?? Before surgery they are all cheery and reassuring; don't worry, we have plenty of different medications, we don't want you to be in pain, just ask and we'll help. After surgery it's a completely different proposition. There you are, disorientated to say the least, on a gurney with your joke-from-the-last-century-hospital-"gown" falling off your shoulders and some thin blanket covering your modesty, waking up with one mother of a hangover, except you haven't had the pleasure of getting plastered, dripping blood and mucus from some tender part of your anatomy that feels as if a road drill has been over it and what happens? They ask you to rate, on a scale of 0 to 3, how much pain you are in. And this is a trick question, because, unbeknown to you, each number has a meaning. They haven't told you what this meaning is beforehand, oh no. And if you try to get them to explain now it's impossible to take in 'cause you're in AGONY and your brain ISN'T WORKING. And don't think you can learn the correct response and remember it for next time, 'cause they'll change the scale.

Next time I'm just going to pick the highest number and hope I get morphine.

cheered

2007-07-03T08:46:00.000Z

up I have been by that inimitable programme I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue. Go and listen to it and make your day brighter. And the best ever double entendre from Humph.

arse

2007-07-03T07:29:00.000Z

which is about as sweary as I like to get on this blog, a hangover from the days when it was first wrote on a site which didn't allow swearing due to it being a home for persons of tender age. Actually, I quite liked that, the idea was to have a polite community and be nice to each other and it worked, most of the time. But in the end I had to leave because the news posting got so infantile that it made me want to break the rules.

It is so arsey at the moment. I won't even go on about the bloody rain which is still raining like a French cow and making me and the cat both bad tempered and the hard landscaping unable to be finished so that all visitors to the house have to be barricaded away from what used to be pathway and forced to dodge the skippery and bags of sand and stone and empty crates slash non chopped-up kindling in the drive. I won't mention that at all. Nor the play what we went to see last week on the cathedral green which should have been a delightful outdoor event in the balmy evening air with picnics and handsome hot actors strolling about and saying hey nonny and things like that but was actually a three hour shiver in the wet with soggy focaccia and diluted wine.

And as if that which we won't mention at all isn't bad enough, I appear to be falling apart at the seams healthwise and will probably be turned away when I go on Thursday for my pre-op assessment as being far too ancient and knackered to be worth operating on. And why, for Gods' sake, do I have to go anyway? They'll make me hang about for hours before the op as it is, why can't they do all the poking and shaking of heads then? Pah to the NHS.

Arse.

not

2007-06-26T06:37:00.001Z

raining for once! Gods be praised. Now I have to go and count plants for four hours.

tradition

2007-06-25T09:03:00.000Z

We've been having a very British weekend. First off, the weather is living up to a typical English summer, with a pool where the patio should be and all the roses battered into slimy submission. It stopped for long enough on Saturday to go and see the Chester City Midsummer Watch parade which was a bit like a cross between a carnival and a queue. Only the English....

And yesterday we went off to Arley Hall for the Garden Show which was FAB if a bit damp round the edges. The gardens were full of colour and all the plants had been properly propped up so weren't doing the horizontal thing that all mine are doing at the moment. There were loads of nurseries selling wonderful plants (five and 24 quid, if you're counting) and other stalls selling garden gadgetary and BEER!

We came back for the tradtional three pints and a curry and this morning are suffering from curry revenge. A thoroughly satisfactory weekend all round.

garden

2007-06-16T13:48:00.000Z

This is for Joe in Vegas as he wanted to see what England looks like at this time of year.

Well, it has been raining comme vache qui pis for the last two days and thus the area immediately outside the kitchen door is a small lake of mud where the patio laying suddenly had to stop. But today it has been dry and the sun is now actually shining so it was a huge relief to get outside and do some stuff and leave Robin to his Band of Brothers DVD fest.

This is the result of my arranging a marriage between our previously barren apple tree and a rather handsome malus John Downie which I bought in at the appropriate time. The tree is now groaning with fruit and I only hope its old and brittle branches will cope.

An update on my veg plot; we have been self-sufficient in salad leaves for weeks now and the tomatoes and courgettes are flowering well. Other things like root crops are proving a little more tricky.....

This is the new bed I dug out last weekend and the plants waiting to go in when the soil has dried out again. Includung this fabulous English rose William Shakespeare

The shady border where the hostas are about to flower.

The patio border which is still overcrowded despite being radically edited last year but which is a blaze of colour at the moment.

The front garden border which was planted up last autumn and is starting to fill out.

And the view up the front path showing the lavender just starting to flower, campanula, geranium, foxgloves and poppies which will hopefully flower later on.

bullocks!

2007-06-14T13:31:00.000Z

Don't they look delicious!

I mean, cute.

we

2007-06-14T13:21:00.000Z

apologise for the interruption to the service of cat on the mac. This was due to circumstances and has now been remedied. We appreciate the misery and suffering this may have caused and offer a free Band Aid to anyone who writes in with a really good reason by midday today.

Otherwise, funerals attended:1, husbands with squash injuries:1, husbands with back injury caused by squash injury:1, state of annoyance with off-sick husband cluttering up house reached:approx 4.2 on the yell scale, new patios being laid:1, patio laying interrupted due to rain:1, new flower borders dug:1, new curtains hung:2.

And on the other day when it wasn't raining I managed to observe a record number of skiving workmen! Hurrah!

rotten

2007-05-21T06:50:00.000Z

I survived yesterday! I woke up in a state of no-longer-thirty-nine-ness and continued right through the whole day without a problem! I received many lovely cards and lots of flowers. I was given some really great presents. And at midday we went out and ate food and drank a lot of champagne and then continued just having fun until it all caught up with us and we fell asleep. I was spoiled rotten and it was great. I can definitely recommend being 40.

week

2007-05-18T08:44:00.001Z

I think I can give myself a small pat on the back for having actually achieved some of the things which are on my virtual list of Things to Do. Skipping right past the first Thing (which is; Write Actual, Physical List of Things to Do) I have jumped merrily to complete Sell Unwanted Furniture, or anyway my part at least, by being in when the men from the auction house came to collect on Monday. Tick. Tuesday was a little bit of a loss until 4 p.m. when Robin and I went off to Yet Another Builder's Yard to look at more choices of hard landscaping. Unfortunately, but inevitably, we didn't choose any of the choices but merely succeeded in confusing ourselves further.

Wednesday was a real result. Very early on I managed to achieve something that wasn't even on my list by having a Really Bad Hair Day. My hair and I then took a bus trip to the Zoo to see a man at rECOrd about me volunteering some time. This has been a large part of my List, starting way back in March when I went to the Volunteer Centre and tried not to feel guilty that I didn’t want to do many of the worthy things that people needed doing. But rECOrd do stuff with data, and I have done many things with data including setting up this in the 90s. And I like the idea of dealing with data about animals and trees and other lovely things rather than drug misuse. So more about that in the future, providing they haven't thought better of associating with the mad-haired woman.

Thursday was the usual scurry of house related doings and then today, Friday, I got to ring the mysterious mobile no. to arrange to sell half of my internal organs in exchange for a tooth extraction! The excitement was palpable, I had already had an obvious anxiety dream involving phoning in the rain and not being able to get through, and another more tangental dream about an illicit liaison with Boris Johnson of all people, in a Yorkshire Cottage slash 40 story hotel. Which I think either shows a far higher level of anxiety than previously suspected, or a serious psychological problem. Anyway. I spoke to Debbie again and she proposed fitting me in a slot which had become available tomorrow. I thought about it for a picosecond and then realised that my birthday celebrations on Sunday would possibly be a tad unwise after a general anaesthetic. So we compromised on the 7th July instead.

So that was my last week as a genuine thirty-something. I wonder what next week will be like?

clinic2

2007-05-14T06:50:00.000Z

Following Debbie's instructions, I am dropped off at the hospital at 10.15 on Saturday. It is very quiet. Only one woman at the main reception desk and a couple of old ladies in hospital gowns shuffling about with zimmer frames near the coffee shop. I head off to x ray as instructed, having scoped out the place on Wednesday. I wonder if this is a practical joke.

Radiography is deserted save for one woman in civvies busy texting just below the sign which prohibits the use of mobile phones in this area. X ray reception grille is down, lights off. A woman in a white clinical looking top wanders past. I stop her and identify myself. I'm not on her list. Oh yes I am, I'm just very, very early. Anyway.

A supervisor turns up. I am invited to approach the big machine and brace myself. I say I've done this before. Recently? About the 25 April. Oh. Consternation. Ringing round and general dismay. Can't give me another dose of radiation so soon or my delicate brain might fry or something. But the consultant will still see me.

Back through the deserted corridors. Into surgical outpatients. Huge reception area, one lone woman at desk. Has my general hospital file which by now, having been seen by three different specialities over 12 years, needs its own trolley to be wheeled about on (Electronic age? Not in the NHS!). She requests to know my religion which information appears to be missing. Apparently it's critical for dental surgery although it wasn't needed for eyes or ENT. I consider replying "Jedi Knight" along with a large proportion of the population in the last census but settle for Christian. She marks me down as CofE.

I sit in the vastness of Waiting Area A along with six other people, two of whom are busy texting beneath the signs prohibiting the use of mobile phones. We wait and I am called just after 11.00. The nurse apologises for the wait. Seems there was a hold up earlier but they have now caught up and she doesn't realise they are seeing me at the time printed on my letter which would, in NHS terms, be unheard of. I realise I may be actually winning the state health lottery here.

The consultant is very nice. I learn the truth; that the hospital is in such crisis with overload in oral surgery that they have drafted him in from Preston to run clinics and operate on Saturdays to clear the backlog. We agree on the op. He agrees to do it under general anesthetic. How long will I have to wait? I won't, it will be done soon. Then comes the bizarre part.

I am given a slip of paper with a name and a mobile phone no. on it and told to ring it on Friday. Not before, not after. Friday. And then the op will be done.

Now, all I have to do is get my x ray back from the other consultant. And ring a mysterious mobile number.

The NHS just gets weirder....

nerd

2007-05-12T12:25:00.000Z

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Drama Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Social Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Musician
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Thanks Joe.

clinic

2007-05-10T07:08:00.000Z

Wake up yesterday feeling dreadful from either pre-hospital stress or MSG overload from the Chinese takeaway. Takes ages to feel human again. Entire morning disappears. A cab driver is early in collecting me and we drive round the city looking at all the women dressed in their summer finery and wearing inappropriate shoes on their way to the races. It's going to pour down later and still they optimistically dress for sunshine. He tells me that there are far too many cabs around now and it's impossible for him to make a living so he's going to chuck it in and do something else. Not sure what though. Join the club.

The hospital smells as usual of disinfectant and fear. Cheery receptionist today. Usual waiting room, usual small queue of people all much older than me, one of whom is complaining about the time. Take out contact lens, put on glasses. Same room, same machine, same blinking lights. Wait again, nervous now. Obese woman turns up in an armchair on wheels. Give up trying to read book. Other room, same nurse, same chat. Except - I actually think to ask his name this year. Read eye chart, think as usual must memorise to save time. Scientific waving fingers test. Eye drops super sting then numb right up to my eyelids. Lights and looking straight ahead. Scary blue lights and holding very still. Clutch glasses in sweaty fingers. No matter how many times I don't feel anything I always dread that I will.

Over. Relief. Everything normal, i.e. as crap as usual and nothing new to worry about. Cheery goodbyes till next year. Reception, date for next May. Would 2.30 be ok? Sure, who knows what will happen in 12 months but 2.30 sounds fine. Loo to remove yellow dye from around eyes. Out. Fresh air. Am normal again. For another year.

It starts to rain.

choosy

2007-05-09T08:37:00.000Z

I fear a grave error has been made. Yesterday, Fred and Terry the landscapy design people came round with a sample of sandstone for replacing the ghastly concrete in the back garden. We chatted about how they could start in early June and about how their estimate was fine once it had been revised to remove the adding-up error. So, they then went off, full of enthusiasm and brought back another two samples of differently coloured sandstone. So now there's a choice. And, having been given a choice, what we really want is a bigger choice. So this weekend we're going to have to go off to the supply yard and look at further choices. And pssibly different supply yards. I do hope this isn't going to turn into one of those white tile hunts.

If only they'd just stuck to the one sample.....

Tuesday

2007-05-08T12:10:00.000Z

It's official; Tuesday is the new Wednesday. Apart from being slightly easier to spell.

No. of rainy showery type weather things today:5862.
No. of attempting-to-be-sunny intervals:5862-1
% of people visiting the house moaning about the weather:100
No. of times cat shot through catflap like speeding bullet:0
No. of times cat attempted to shoot through catflap, etc:54
% of freezer defrosted:83
% of food from fridge thrown away in manner of affluent Western consumerist wasting things society:39 approx.
Ditto freezer:73
Average use by date on food in freezer: September 06
How frizzy hair is due to a) atmospheric humidity and b) defrosting of freezer with lots of hot water and damp towels:very very
No. of babies delivered with oodles of towels and hot water:0
Fedupness index (daily average over 24 hours):7

Is it time for a drink yet?

Grosvenor

2007-05-06T07:22:00.000Z

We do seem to be eating out a lot lately, but it was someone else's birthday yesterday and vouchers for the Chester Grosvenor Hotel had to be spent so five of us went to the brasserie for dinner.

Point one - I would like to say that there is a blatant lie on the website - the black leather sofas are NOT comfortable, indeed they represent a form of torture so exquisite that one is left convinced it is a subtle form of Gallic revenge.

Point... no, I think I'll stop doing points here, or I'll just degenerate into a rant. We had gin and tonics where they nearly got the order right. We extricated ourselves from the Sofas of Sade and squeezed ourselves not very comfortably around two tables for two pushed together. We watched Robin eat his slightly watery soup and then we all joined in on the mains.

Two ducks "Bigerade" were ok but a bit tough. Glazed pork was delicious and came with a generous side of veg; the only dish that did. Veal Blanquette was pronounced excellent, and my calves liver was moreish, crispy and caramelised on the outside and meltingly sweet on the inside, but unfortunately over-seasoned. Sides of potatoes were overcooked (and in one case, overlooked) and my spinach was properly cooked and a generous portion but regrettably not sufficiently washed. We had one of the cheaper wines, an Australian Shiraz, which was fine. Only two opted for pudding and both were enjoyed immensely.

Overall it really is shocking that a hotel which prides itself as being the best in Chester fails to deliver totally good service. The "relaxed, Parisian style ambience" of this brasserie is non-existent. The prices are extortionate (for a "brasserie"!) and the food is not up to standard. We only went there because of the vouchers and, I have to say, if anyone ever gave me Grosvenor vouchers I'd spend them in the spa instead.

blank

2007-05-04T14:27:00.000Z

Q: What is the difference between a plain white ceramic wall tile 6" square for 11p and one for £2?

A: Having looked at every white tile available in Chester I have absolutely no idea. But I do know that the ones in the boxes in the garage are all scratched and won't, therefore, be playing a large part in Robin's Bank Holiday Weekend activities. Unless you count taking them back to B&Q for a refund, that is.

Actually, the whole dreadful tile shopping experience was enlivened by, I have to say it, possibly the most stupid shop assistant we have ever met. Pearls of her wisdom included, when asked the above question, "nothing really. Tiles are all the same." When asked whether she could get us some samples from a display, "I think so. We don't really do much business with those. I don't know why that's there really." And, having provided us with estimates for 200 tiles in three different ranges and then being asked for a fourth estimate for the same size tile - "Do you still want 200?"

Not much of a surprise then that, when we went into the very last tile emporium and found two people interested, intelligent and knowledgeable about their work we ordered straight away from them.

White tiles. They're all the same really.

****!

2007-05-03T07:57:00.000Z

I do not know what the eff is going on. Just 10 minutes ago I had a call from Debbie. Who had been asked to ring me and make an appointment for Saturday 12 May at the oral surgery outpatients at the local NHS hospital. Oh, and I need to go for an x ray first.

What has happened I think is they've realised the referral was lost for 7 weeks and they can't mess up their waiting time figures so they've suddenly fasttracked me. Possibly the private consultant's secretary has stirred them up by phoning and asking for a copy of the referral letter. Still, I may as well go along and see if I can get it done for free.......

My teeth are so happy they're in demand! They want to go and have a new hairdo before they get their photo taken again.

five

2007-05-02T06:53:00.000Z

Thank you to Joe in Vegas for taking the time to write and send me these questions after I let him know I'd like him to. I am wearing a glittery dress, by the way, and Joe is now pointing the microphone in my direction. Ahem.

1. Is the NHS really that bad? I’ve heard Canadians coming to the US to pay for things that take months, but the US insurance system is very expensive. What direction would you suggest?

How long is a piece of string? Yes, the NHS is really bad, it is also really good. There are vast differences in the provision of services depending on where you live and what type of treatment you need. We live in an affluent area and so treatment here has generally been pretty good, but dentistry has been in crisis in the UK for several years and there is a severe lack of resources to provide care in this speciality. I am a low priority case, hence the wait, but if my symptoms were much more acute I could probably be seen fairly quickly.

I don’t know what the answer is. The UK spends £90 billion on health, the largest budget category, which equates to £1490 per capita per year. I reckon we’re an average family and so we probably pay about that in tax towards the budget. So, could we get better healthcare if we went totally private for £1490 per year each? I don’t think so. Although I am choosing to pay for the operation to remove my wisdom tooth in order to escape the wait, I have had three other operations in my life, none of which was medically “necessary” but all of which enhanced my quality of life to a large degree, all without paying a penny directly. I also get excellent care for my eyes as I have multiple problems with them, expert check-ups every year and assurance that I can be seen immediately by a very skilled team if I ever have any worries. All paid for by the NHS.

The French system we found to be better in some ways for the end user because there you arrange your own treatment; buying it from the hospital or clinic of your choice and paying for it yourself initially. You then claim the cost back from the state, from 100% for necessary medical interventions to 80% or less for other things. We found this to work well, it does have the advantage that people don’t waste treatment resources in the same way they do here in the UK (the majority of prescription drugs are never taken, but are thrown away, in the UK) but French taxation is even higher than ours so presumably it costs even more.

2. Are you using the good earth out of the compost bin?

Yes and no. I’m still using the compost left by the previous owners (we moved here about a year ago) but the new compost bin is filling up nicely and rotting well and I hope to be using it in the autumn. My own compost!

3. Have you made your list of things for the birthday ending in ‘0’, and does it really bother you?

I never really planned to make a list for my “oh” birthday, the list I was rabbiting on about a while ago was just a list of mundane things I needed to do for day-to-day stuff like get my tooth sorted. I don’t have any impulse to make a list of things to do before the birthday like Anna has because I’m not a goal type of person. I would also be running out of time 'cause it's on the 20th. I have made a mental list of people I want to come and celebrate my birthday with me and I have invited them.

Does it bother me? No, not really. I don’t feel nearly 40, I don’t think I look it, and my life is in a better place than it was when I was 30. Gardening really helps with time perspective - as I become more and more aware of the weather and seasons I find the passing of years becomes something to look forward to rather than to dread.

4. Are you making any progress in starting that laughter therapist business?

No! I had totally forgotten about that. But wouldn’t it be a great idea. It’s amazing how uplifted you can be by an evening of laughing so..... I should definitely work on that.

5. Are you happy?

Ooh, the biggie. I thought this was going to be a really difficult one to answer. I’ve been mulling over the differences between contentment, joy and happiness. I always though that, like Hornblower, I was “not a man with a gift for happiness” and that it was something that came unexpectedly, in small but intense bursts. But I think I’ve decided that’s joy. So, taking it all in all, despite the flavour of much of my blog, and MUCH to my surprise, yes, I am happy. Thank you for making me realise it.

grin

2007-04-30T07:01:00.000Z

Today I'm going to see a man about a tooth. Following the treacle episode a couple of weeks ago, I am now officially on the NHS waiting list but have lost all seven of the weeks that my referral was lost so I'm at the back of a very long, 11 weeks till the initial appointment, who knows how long till the extraction, but you never know you may get a free dose of MRSA, queue. In stark contrast to the throwing-money-at-it-option which produced an x-ray the same day and an appointment for 3 days hence, i.e. today. Admittedly, my dentist did come up trumps by doing the x-ray the same day and only charging me a NHS £15.90.

Hopefully my horizontally-inclined tooth will soon be no more and I can go back to blaming my sinusitis on other things. Like the weather. What is up with that at the moment? We keep getting highs of 26 and 27 degrees, the nightime low is about 10 and the courgettes are already budding. I dread to think what July is going to be like...

....tooth-free though :D

Joseph Benjamin

2007-04-29T06:05:00.000Z

Hurrah! Last nights eating experience was so special as to make me change my one word title policy for the first time ever as we enjoyed a birthday celebration at Joseph Benjamin. The restaurant is a tiny semi basement off this new (well, certainly new to me) Chester deli sandwiched in between Rufus Court and the Walls off Northgate Street. The food was all very fresh, cooked to perfection and with bucketloads of flavour crammed in. The service was friendly and faultless. The venue is small - we probably had the best of it as we took over the whole restaurant with 18 of us - but I can imagine that with the capacity of 20 you might find it a touch cramped if you went there as a smaller group.

But the food! Plate-licking-tastic*. Terrine of guinea fowl with fresh apricots was rich yet light with the apricots' sweet fibrous flesh complimenting the meat perfectly. A granita of nettles and cucumber intriguingly hinted at raw pastry in an unexpected but very refreshing way. Sea bream was faultlessly cooked, garnished with just the right amount of chopped capers, and accompanied by a risotto swimming with tiny, meaty native shrimp. And the creme brulee was very very (and about another 5 verys) nice and managed to retain its honey flavour after caramalisation - although a tiny amount of fruit would have been nice instead of the cream on the side. Cheese from the Northgate St Cheese Shop (where else) was completely unnecessary after we had all scoured our plates clean, but was eagerly eaten in a spirit of greed and came with pickled walnuts to die for.

Go for - everything made on the premises, from chutney to pastries. Probably some of the best food in Chester at great prices. Excellent, good value wine. A relaxed pace of service and friendly staff. Five courses plus pre dinner drink, coffee and a bottle of wine EACH I'm ashamed to say was £50 per head. It doesn't get much better than this.

*sorry

Bollicini

2007-04-27T07:56:00.000Z

Went out for a meal last night to Bollicini, apparently the only authentic Milanese restaurant in Chester. We'd been there before a couple of times for cocktails and, while watching our fingernails grow perceptably before they arrived, we'd had a thorough look at the menu of this classy bar and restaurant and decided we must visit again and eat.

A Long Island Iced Tea and a Singapore Sling got the evening off to a fine start and this carried on well with the starters; tuna tartare for me and mozzarella with aubergine and crispy rice noodles for Robin. The tuna was excellent, with yummy basil pesto and chopped tomato. Robin approved of his mozzarella. For mains, I had pork fillet with caramalised apples in Calvados which was a bit disappointing. The pork was nicely cooked but a bit dry - some cream sauce would have been good - although the apples made a nice contrast. Robin's lobster tagliatelli was very good in a tomato sauce. Veg was a bit pathetic, grilled aubergine, peppers and courgettes lacking in flavour and undercooked, with "roast potatoes" being chunks of new potatoes bunged in the oven and ending up a bit soggy and tasteless.

For dessert - a creme brulee for Robin which he said was the highlight of his meal, and a panna cotta for me which was rubbery and not tasting in the slightest of the advertised vanilla. We enjoyed an excellent bottle of Chianti from Castellina, which took us straight back to last summer's Tuscan jaunt.

All in all, the food was not as good as it could have been and a bit overpriced. Dinner for two, with cocktails and wine was about £90. I definitely wouldn't bother eating there again although I'd go back for cocktails when not in a hurry. For much better and cheaper Italian/mediterranean food try either Ego or La Taverna

progress

2007-04-17T15:50:00.000Z

Progress is being made in the veg bed. Now to bore you with some of my photos!

The Mizuna is ready to eat. Sadly it's not as exciting as I thought it would be. Must have been something else we used to get in the veg bag....or another variety.

The radish and turnips also doing well and being succession sown (another grown up gardening thing I've never done before) to hopefully get a long cropping period.

And here, clockwise from top left, the teeniest weeniest beetroot, onion and carrot seedlings and the lettuce, germinating well:

Elsewhere in the garden the fig has so far given promise of a good crop if they don't fall off. And the apple blossom is ready to emerge - although as there's no other pollinator I don't expect to exceed last year's harvest of one fruit.

OK - that's it. You can go back to your pints now. Oh, and if you're wondering, the twigs are an effort to deter the worst garden pest so far. My cat.

treacle

2007-04-17T12:35:00.000Z

Sit down at desk. Stare at screen. Wrestle with fact that I really, really have got to do some things even though I STILL haven't yet written the list of things to be done. Come to decision. Go and fetch paperwork. Ring up Nuffield hospital to enquire about possibility of paying lots of money to skip NHS waiting lists to get rid of this damn wisdom tooth. Dial. Speak to operator. Get transferred. Hold for endless rings. Put phone down, discouraged.

Find NHS hospital website. Dial. Speak to operator. Get put on hold. Get transferred. After a nanosecond speak to admin person in maxillo-facial surgery department. Ask about progress of referral from dentist's appointment 6 weeks ago. No record exists. Sigh. Hang up.

Find new dentists info leaflet. Regret causing a bit of a scene re referrals when I was there. Dial. Speak to admin person. Assurred referral sent day I saw them (i.e. 6 weeks ago). Assurred will fax copy to hospital today. Thank you. Hang up.

Find NHS hospital website. Dial. Speak to operator. Get put on hold. Get transferred. Is completely wrong department. Get transferred again. Get put on hold. Get transferred. After another nanosecond speak to admin person in maxillo-facial surgery department. Tell same cheery admin woman about impending fax. Ask very politely if any idea how long wait will be. Suggested to ring back in a couple of days once referral has been assessed and prioritised. Thank you. Hang up.

Feel a bit despondent. Contemplate possible 12 month waiting time now starts from now rather than 6 weeks ago. Bum. Poke tooth. Hideous smell of infection. Yuck. Decide is enough wading through treacle for one day.

virus

2007-04-16T07:26:00.000Z

I think I may have a virus. Not me, not my mac (laughs derisively at the thought), but my seedlings. Courgettes, variety "Soleil", now about 2 weeks old and looking distinctly odd to my eye. Any seasoned vegetable growers out there - please do tell me if you think I may have the dreaded mosiac virus. I've never grown courgettes before, let alone "Soleil" so I dunno. Thought you couldn't get viruses transmitted through seed either - so I really don't know where it could have come from.

list

2007-04-12T07:06:00.000Z

Oh Gods, I need to make a list. I have a lot of things to do, and while most of them are nothing to do with having a birthday with an "oh" coming up, unlike what Anna is putting together, some of them are. The are things are just to do with organising a small and select lunch which will involve modest imbibing of beer to accompany yummy food and no rowdiness or unnecessary-ness whatsoever. Ahem. The nothing things include arranging to have a wisdom tooth removed (ok, I'll look at your holiday photos instead, please), arranging to see some people about replacing the bit in the garden which is neither grass nor flowerbed and making plans to go somewhere abroad at some point this year.

I promised I would do some of these things this week but it seems to have got crammed up instead with going to have my feet poked again and spring-cleaning the kitchen. So a list will have to do.

But I need another cup of tea first....

A11

2007-04-10T06:53:00.000Z

We're not in Norfolk anymore. We managed to escape yesterday, not a bad journey, only 5 1/2 hours including a sandwich stop and the usual pointlessness of the A11. Dad says that they don't want better roads built 'cause that would mean more people coming to Norfolk but to me it seems a bit mad that they have spent so much time and money making the major route in and out dual carriageway and bypassy along almost all of its length but then left a great big bottleneck which means that all the traffic is concentrated over about 5 miles of the road. A set of traffic lights in the middle of a long single lane stretch. At least it's in Thetford forest so you can sit back and admire the trees.

Holly the cat is very, very happy to be home and keeps rushing around and purring and things. And visible progress has been made in the veg beds! I shall take and post pix (which are entirely optional) later.

badgers

2007-04-08T11:28:00.000Z

The badgers are being loud today. They're building a new part to their sett which involves much drilling, constant muzak and occasional bursts of silliness.

You may have guessed I'm not talking about the black and white stripy nocturnal creatures so beloved of Bill Oddie and his ilk; I refer instead to my parents' next door neighbours who have been christened the badgers due to their habit of rushing out of the house, running aournd the garden all together for a while, and then rushing back in not to be seen for another 24 hours.

The sett building is different though. When you go down to your parents' cottage in the middle of the Norfolk countryside, it's nice to look forward to a bit of peace after the six hours of madness that is driving from the West coast of England to the East. Particularly after the crawl up the first bit of the A11 while you and the other 865 thousand cars wait for the traffic lights to change at Elveden. And it's not so much the hammering and drilling, it's definitely the muzak that is the annoying part.

Still, should all be over by the next time we come, and since the badgers appear to be building over the entire area of their garden we don't expect to see them outside the sett ever in the future.

Well, not till Bill Oddie turns up, anyhow.

festive

2007-04-05T07:11:00.000Z

I see that the organisers of the Chester food and drink festival are conspiring to hold it again this year while we are away. Dang! That happens every Easter that we go to stay with my Mum and Dad. You'd almost think there was a connection...

It's a shame really, as I actually have a programme this year which I picked up from the producers market yesterday so there would have been a winning chance of us going to something. Chester festivals are a bit hit and miss I find. The music festival in the summer happens without much warning. The Literary Festival drags on over most of October which means I can never get up enough enthusiasm to go to anything as there's only about 1 1/2 decent events in any one week. The Folk Festival is a big event on the Folk scene I understand, if you like that sort of thing. But in general all the festivals suffer from really bad internet publicity. They don't get their act together soon enough (music, lit). They have appalling websites (folk) and the addresses change from year to year without deleting the old sites or giving proper links (food, music, lit). There's no email signup facility (everything except folk). Oh, and the Beer Festival is held at the rugby club outside Chester - I would go if I could walk there, but I can't. Duh! You have to be possessed of extra special powers to manage to go to most of these things. Which is a shame really as there's loads of good stuff going on.

You just think they'd want to tell you about it.

interminable

2007-04-04T21:26:00.000Z

Sometimes life seems to be stuck on interminable Wednesday, why this is I do not know. Anyway, today has been one of those, ho, hum, but a little different in that I forgot to amusingly phone my Mum to remind her that it WAS Wednesday and therefore my Dad would not have gone missing but would have gone to German. Except that it's probably the Easter break so he wouldn't have gone anywhere. In addition, the usual Wednesday coven at the pub happened yesterday due to the Holiday Plans of some people in caravans (on holiday that is, otherwise thay are usually without caravan) and as a last resort those who must be obeyed, i.e. the bin men, have decreed that they shall come tomorrow instead of Friday and so emptying and bagging up things have had to be done. So, all in all, although it appears to be Wednesday again, it doesn't feel like it.

Other things today; a friend emailed to ask if he could borrow my collection of paper bags, Robin received a mysterious package for which I had to sign, and I finally gave in to the cat over the Waitrose brand tinned food and opened the last M&S fishy delight meal. I felt guilty as tomorrow we will be abandoning her again in a small pen for three days while we go frolicking in Norfolk. I bought a small Japanese cherry type shrub and some Dexter beef and made an unforseen number of Easter biscuits (curse Phil Archer). Dressing gowns have been washed and lawns cut.

Isn't it Thursday yet?

feet

2007-04-03T09:01:00.000Z

My feet are disappearing. It's true, I used to be a five and now I appear to be a four. And even four's often too big. Unless the UK fashion industry has upsized shoes as well as clothes because we've all got fat feet now. And with size four feet, added to the fact that trainer styles have got smaller and bearing in mind that, due to a sense of fashion inertia*, I have only recently discovering bootleg jeans, there are days when my feet are hardly seen at all. This really isn't fair, as at 5'6" tall in old money they are already too small to stop me falling over should something like, say, the odd pint or three cause a temporary lack of balance.

My feet have been on my mind for another reason lately. A couple of weeks ago I went for a reflexology session which appears to have significantly alleviated my sinusitis. The scientist in me doesn't believe that poking your feet can help make symptoms go away. The woman with her head over a bowl of steamy water wants to believe that this is a cure. My feet had the deciding vote and will be taking me back for more sessions. We shall all see what happens.

*BTW will whoever is making the eighties clothes appear please MAKE THEM GO AWAY? For those of us who have already made all those hideous fashion errors this is torture. They've even taken over Monsoon, for pity's sake.