It's a gorgeous day here. Bright sunshine, blue sky with no clouds in sight, and dare I say it, almost warm.
Of course, I can't get outside to enjoy it - I'm sitting at the desk, looking out, my plaster casted leg propped up on a bag stuffed full of clothes due to go to Oxfam, the next time I'm fit enough to pass by.
Howard is out in the garden, hanging out the laundry, tending to the hens, and planting my Spring bulbs. As I usually do all the planting and sowing, I wrote him out step by step instructions for flower bulbs, alliums and overwintering broad beans and peas. This included information on the potting compost mixes for each. Now, I'm not one for precision, but Howard, being a graphic designer, is used to working in millimetres. So three parts compost to one part grit or Perlite to me means for every three scoops of compost, add some grit. If it doesn't feel right, add a bit more of what's lacking. Howard measures things EXACTLY. Mind you, I should have known. When we started at the first allotment, ten years back, he used a ruler to space the seed potatoes. And the completion of the pruning of the Southernwood along the front path will wait until I am fit to do it myself - without a ruler.
I can't complain really. He's had to everything around the house since I've been laid up, rather than just his usual tasks. Every morning before leaving for work, he's made me a packed lunch plus healthy snacks to keep me going through the day. Until buying a spare electric kettle late last week, he was also making a couple of flasks of just boiled water so I could have tea throughout the day.
As I'm relatively immobile, I'm not expending the usual amount of energy. Therefore, I don't need the usual ration of carbs. But if you're bored, frustrated and being punished with daytime TV, what lifts your spirit? Cake. Or biscuits. It's a struggle to get downstairs to the larder, and I need both arms to brace myself when I drag myself back up the stairs, so I have to make sure my ration for the day is eked out.
This has meant a re-think of my diet, concentrating on lean protein, vitamin rich fruit & veg, plus good sources of calcium. So lots of fish, chicken, vegetables (especially brassicas) and good quality cheese. Any bread we eat is the best quality - sourdough, rye or sodabread.
It has been enjoyable sitting down together and planning what we both will eat. We try to put thought into what we eat anyway, but having to adapt meals for someone who needs to build up strength without adding extra calories has meant we cannot fall back on traditional simple comfort foods. That said, as a reward for so much hard work, I ordered a pizza on Friday so Howard didn't need to cook. I ravenously knocked back my share and had heartburn till the morning. Lesson learned.
Howard is a good cook, though he does prefer the reassurance of instructions. I have no complaints about the catering. Last Sunday he made a Spanish style casserole of chicken, tomatoes and butterbeans. He managed to stretch it to make two lunches by setting aside the chicken thighs and pureeing the rest of the dish to make a soup and a salad. Last night we had a panfried fillet of Mackerel, with a warm salad of bacon, fennel & carrot. The rest of the carrots and fennel, along with some onions, leeks and celery, will be finely chopped and turned into a soup to last us for a couple of lunches. The first day it will be finely chopped veg in a broth with pearl barley, the second day it will go through the blender to make a thick soup.
Once we've had a successful new meal, I'm trying to write down the details and keep it on file, along with the written instructions for garden tasks. Howard is going to do the same for the various tasks I delegate to him, plus emergency info, such as the location of stopcocks in the house. So if both of us are indisposed, the poor creature who has to look after us will know what to do to keep the house ticking over.
Sunday, 13 November 2011
Saturday, 5 November 2011
I was a sickly child. Asthma often kept me at home, stripped of energy, though rarely bedridden. These were the days before daytime TV as we know it - just news, Watch With Mother and sometimes a film.
So days at home we spent reading or playing with my Britains farm models - especially the horses and riders.
I still read vocariously, though now not always because it's the only thing that doesn't sap my strength. Those farm animal toys are now collectable, and I have probably more of them than I had as a child, though some elude me. Little gifts my Nan bought me to cheer me up - the chimps tea party and the milkman, pony and cart for instance, now go for huge sums on eBay. There are even scale models made especially for collectors - I think a spin off from war games scene makers, and I confess to adding to my collection from those. I mean, if some grown men can get away with train sets.......
So here I am. Stuck at home, immobile for the next few weeks. Much of my time will be spent reading and writing, but I also have tv, dvds and the internet. Even so, I feel frustrated by being stuck indoors. I feel like I have been separated from the real world. Looking out of the window at the woods, listening to neighbours in the street if anything makes it worse.
Not really a huge fan of Robert Louis Stevenson, apart from one small passage in Treasure Island, when Ben Gunn is asked what he has done with all the time spent alone and he replies "Dreaming of cheese, mainly toasted", and this poem. I can identify with both, fully.:
The Land of Counterpane
When I was sick and lay a-bed,I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Confined to quarters
Forty nine years and three months. All that time I could proudly say I had never broken a bone, thanks to including quality dairy rich foods in my diet.
Well that's over. Last night I slipped in the dark on the way home, and turned my ankle so badly I have fractured it. Spent most of the evening in A&E, before being sent home with a temporary plaster cast. That was taken off today, but due to the ligament damage I'd also done, my foot was too swollen to have the proper cast, so I have temporary cast No. 2 on for a week.
Been given crutches which are impossible to use on a slope, so stuck indoors for now. Actually, stuck upstairs, and the stairs are near impossible to negotiate alone.
Suspect I may do a good impression of Jack Nicholson in The Shining before the six weeks are up.
Well that's over. Last night I slipped in the dark on the way home, and turned my ankle so badly I have fractured it. Spent most of the evening in A&E, before being sent home with a temporary plaster cast. That was taken off today, but due to the ligament damage I'd also done, my foot was too swollen to have the proper cast, so I have temporary cast No. 2 on for a week.
Been given crutches which are impossible to use on a slope, so stuck indoors for now. Actually, stuck upstairs, and the stairs are near impossible to negotiate alone.
Suspect I may do a good impression of Jack Nicholson in The Shining before the six weeks are up.
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Seasons Change - All Too Soon
Well, I think we can safely say we've put this Summer to bed. What little there was of it. A few stiflingly hot days in August, and then October. What a let down.
It all started our so promisingly with such a warm Spring, but by June mild turned to disappointing.
Not a great year on the allotment. Tomatoes hardly ripened, and the foxes decided to make a playground of our root and allium beds. We managed to harvest a few decent onions and shallots towards the end of the season, and found a vast seam of garlic cloves (the papery skin meant to enclose them melted by the assorted downpours) which need preserving for us to use them through the year. Decent potato crop, as there were so few hot & humid days for blight to hit before harvesting time. I subscribe to Blightwatch message service, and I think there have been less than half a dozen texts since May, when it messages are usally in double figures for the year. The few tomato plants that flourished had been picked clean before the telltale blotches on the leaves could do any damage.
We had a good year fruit wise. More apple & pears for a long time, and enough soft fruit to sacrifice a few to curious chickens. Elly the Welsummer has a thing for anything red, in particular Japanese Wineberries. She also made light work of the parts of the container grown redcurrants before I moved the pot. Chunks of sweetcorn or windfall apples are the current favourite seasonal treat. Katy eating apple has a lovely red skin, so is easy to find in the run. Egremont Russet skin looks too much like the floor of the run, so often gets lost.
The birds have started moulting, and Elly, being more "fluffy" that the rest, is shedding profusely. There's a rather large hole in her "frilly knicker" feathers, and every time she shakes or flaps her wings another clump falls off. No consolation to her, but it all makes great compost.
Worldwide, this has been a traumatic Summer. Earthquakes that should hopefully make governments think twice about nuclear power, floods, hurricanes, the mine tragedy of the past week, regime change attempts of varying success in North Africa, and the usual multitude of mindless acts of extreme terror. But one event that put a damper on the whole Summer was much closer to home.
I first met Michel Terstegen some thirty years ago, on a day trip to Amsterdam to see The Jam. Paul Weller was having one of his "out of it" nights, and the band were nowhere near top form. Even so, it was a great night. Brian, my partner through until the end of the eighties, had been in a mod band, and was recognised by various Dutch mods. Among them was Michel, who was more interested in talking about record collecting and music in general than in Brian's career. And so began a great friendship. For the next few years we visited each other on more than an annual basis, and Michel opened our eyes to some incredible music. Before meeting him, I had no concept of there being a thriving music scene outside the UK & US, with the the few overseas music hits being viewed as flukes. Within a matter of months of being introduced to the music by him, I was overtaken by e near evangelical fervour for all things "Nederbiet", in particular Q65 and the Outsiders. Michel played us one particular rare, somewhat shambolic single, and I said I would love a copy. He found one for me, and hid it from everyone until he brought it to London for me.
I lay credit for my love and fascination with worldwide beat, folk and psychedelia solely at his door. And I seriously doubt I'm alone in that.
Michel worked in a record shop, and would in time form a band, start a record label, open his own record shop and publish a music magazine. He built up a vast array of contacts all over the world, and because of his character, it's pretty certain most of those contacts would also count him as a friend. He made his business a success through his enthusiasm and reasonableness, not through bullying and sharp practice. He was able to turn something he loved into a career that benefitted many others.
I must admit that over time our lives changed and we saw less of each other. I met Howard and moved to the outer reaches of London, Michel found work and family life left little time for recreational travel. In fact, the last time I saw him was on his first trip to London with Saskia, who would in time become the mother of his son and his wife.
Then in April I got a message to say he was seriously ill. One afternoon in July I arrived home from work to a message that he'd died the previous night.
For someone who set so much of a good example to so many, who was successful on his own terms, had a happy and loving life, to be taken away far too soon, shows what a cruel disease cancer is.
It all started our so promisingly with such a warm Spring, but by June mild turned to disappointing.
Not a great year on the allotment. Tomatoes hardly ripened, and the foxes decided to make a playground of our root and allium beds. We managed to harvest a few decent onions and shallots towards the end of the season, and found a vast seam of garlic cloves (the papery skin meant to enclose them melted by the assorted downpours) which need preserving for us to use them through the year. Decent potato crop, as there were so few hot & humid days for blight to hit before harvesting time. I subscribe to Blightwatch message service, and I think there have been less than half a dozen texts since May, when it messages are usally in double figures for the year. The few tomato plants that flourished had been picked clean before the telltale blotches on the leaves could do any damage.
We had a good year fruit wise. More apple & pears for a long time, and enough soft fruit to sacrifice a few to curious chickens. Elly the Welsummer has a thing for anything red, in particular Japanese Wineberries. She also made light work of the parts of the container grown redcurrants before I moved the pot. Chunks of sweetcorn or windfall apples are the current favourite seasonal treat. Katy eating apple has a lovely red skin, so is easy to find in the run. Egremont Russet skin looks too much like the floor of the run, so often gets lost.
The birds have started moulting, and Elly, being more "fluffy" that the rest, is shedding profusely. There's a rather large hole in her "frilly knicker" feathers, and every time she shakes or flaps her wings another clump falls off. No consolation to her, but it all makes great compost.
Worldwide, this has been a traumatic Summer. Earthquakes that should hopefully make governments think twice about nuclear power, floods, hurricanes, the mine tragedy of the past week, regime change attempts of varying success in North Africa, and the usual multitude of mindless acts of extreme terror. But one event that put a damper on the whole Summer was much closer to home.
I first met Michel Terstegen some thirty years ago, on a day trip to Amsterdam to see The Jam. Paul Weller was having one of his "out of it" nights, and the band were nowhere near top form. Even so, it was a great night. Brian, my partner through until the end of the eighties, had been in a mod band, and was recognised by various Dutch mods. Among them was Michel, who was more interested in talking about record collecting and music in general than in Brian's career. And so began a great friendship. For the next few years we visited each other on more than an annual basis, and Michel opened our eyes to some incredible music. Before meeting him, I had no concept of there being a thriving music scene outside the UK & US, with the the few overseas music hits being viewed as flukes. Within a matter of months of being introduced to the music by him, I was overtaken by e near evangelical fervour for all things "Nederbiet", in particular Q65 and the Outsiders. Michel played us one particular rare, somewhat shambolic single, and I said I would love a copy. He found one for me, and hid it from everyone until he brought it to London for me.
I lay credit for my love and fascination with worldwide beat, folk and psychedelia solely at his door. And I seriously doubt I'm alone in that.
Michel worked in a record shop, and would in time form a band, start a record label, open his own record shop and publish a music magazine. He built up a vast array of contacts all over the world, and because of his character, it's pretty certain most of those contacts would also count him as a friend. He made his business a success through his enthusiasm and reasonableness, not through bullying and sharp practice. He was able to turn something he loved into a career that benefitted many others.
I must admit that over time our lives changed and we saw less of each other. I met Howard and moved to the outer reaches of London, Michel found work and family life left little time for recreational travel. In fact, the last time I saw him was on his first trip to London with Saskia, who would in time become the mother of his son and his wife.
Then in April I got a message to say he was seriously ill. One afternoon in July I arrived home from work to a message that he'd died the previous night.
For someone who set so much of a good example to so many, who was successful on his own terms, had a happy and loving life, to be taken away far too soon, shows what a cruel disease cancer is.
Friday, 17 June 2011
Gardeners always say never - but never mean it
For someone who doesn't "do pink", I seem to have quite a lot in my garden.
At the start of the year, I have assorted hellebores. Mostly in my default colours of purple and yellow (as in shed photo), but there are a few that err on the side of rose coloured.
Hardy geraniums started off with the darkest flowered g. phaeum I could find, but now there are white and cerise as well (the latter albeit bought for its near black/purple foliage). Above all, I have allowed Herb Robert to pop up in gaps as it sees fit. I forgive the girly pink flowers as they are loved by insects, but equally for the red stemmed foliage.
Not all my Heucheras have white flowers.
Then there are my Hepaticas and Anenomes - mostly white, but some have a pink flush to their petal, as does my new Clematis, not to mention the Erigeron I am coaxing into nooks and crannies in the brick paved area inside the raised beds.
Barring one yellow flowered alpine, all my Sedums are pink flowered, as is the Bergenia that I rescued from the sorry display in the front garden when we moved in and replanted in a more suitable position.
Come late Summer, Echinacea purpurea will join the display, if the Cepholaria (in my more favoured buttermilk shade) hasn't smothered everything by then.
Add to that assorted Thymes, Sage, Turkish Rocket, Betony, Ragged Robin and self sown Aquilegias.
Finally, there are Foxgloves. Granted, I have a parviflora, but in the main, they are pink.
So, for all my protestations that I won't include the colour pink in any of my planting plans, on reflection it seems to be the most prolific shade.
Maybe if I actively include it in the garden, my favoured shades of cream and purple will actually take over.
At the start of the year, I have assorted hellebores. Mostly in my default colours of purple and yellow (as in shed photo), but there are a few that err on the side of rose coloured.
Hardy geraniums started off with the darkest flowered g. phaeum I could find, but now there are white and cerise as well (the latter albeit bought for its near black/purple foliage). Above all, I have allowed Herb Robert to pop up in gaps as it sees fit. I forgive the girly pink flowers as they are loved by insects, but equally for the red stemmed foliage.
Not all my Heucheras have white flowers.
Then there are my Hepaticas and Anenomes - mostly white, but some have a pink flush to their petal, as does my new Clematis, not to mention the Erigeron I am coaxing into nooks and crannies in the brick paved area inside the raised beds.
Barring one yellow flowered alpine, all my Sedums are pink flowered, as is the Bergenia that I rescued from the sorry display in the front garden when we moved in and replanted in a more suitable position.
Come late Summer, Echinacea purpurea will join the display, if the Cepholaria (in my more favoured buttermilk shade) hasn't smothered everything by then.
Add to that assorted Thymes, Sage, Turkish Rocket, Betony, Ragged Robin and self sown Aquilegias.
Finally, there are Foxgloves. Granted, I have a parviflora, but in the main, they are pink.
So, for all my protestations that I won't include the colour pink in any of my planting plans, on reflection it seems to be the most prolific shade.
Maybe if I actively include it in the garden, my favoured shades of cream and purple will actually take over.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
The Look of a Wet Weekend
Well after the 40 days & nights without rain, the past few days have more than made up. And to think one evening at the start of the week, we watched two Buzzards wheeling on the thermals over the lake. Fortunately on Friday, Howard had made lunch for both of us to take in, so I didn't have to venture far from my desk during the thunderstorm and torrential downpour. Maybe it's the Welsh ancestry, but I am less downhearted than my work colleagues when it rains. One of them is obsessed with roller skating, and goes into near drama queen mode at the slightest hint of precipitation for fear his ball bearings will rust.
Today, however, the rain did put a damper on plans. Not practical to undertake the tasks planned for garden or allotment. But hopefully the plants are drinking it up, and maybe the rain will discourage the foxes from rummaging in my onion bed. Maybe it will even be heavy enough to drown out the wasp nest that has taken up residence in my straw bale stash.
Not that is stopped the Magpies. Their favourite trick of old was to rummage in the guttering for things to drop on us as we sat having tea on the deck. This year's new generation are a particularly delinquent bunch. They have taken to fishing stuff out of the compost pile and having a picnic on the roof of one of the hen houses. Not just stuff from our garden either - white bread, pizza crusts, disemboweled tea bags end up there. Happens to be the hen house where Giggy, our Leghorn resides. This small white feathery Ninja likes nothing better than to square up to anything passing by, so I would have loved to see her chicken martial art moves during the week.
Too wet to chase the Magpies off. Instead, we had a domestic day. Or rather Howard did. My sciatica decided to come back to haunt me this morning, so I reclined and did research while Howard gave the cupcake maker I'd bought him for Christmas a test drive. It worked a treat, and we now have a stash of banana muffins tucked away in a tin, plus some extra special ones cooling down.
When I was little, my mother used to bake all sorts of wonderful things. Family meals may have been predictable, but afternoon tea was always a treat. One of her special treats was "Home Made Jaffa Cakes". These were plain fairy cakes with the middle scooped out, filled with jam and sealed up with melted chocolate. I was miffed to see a well known chef publish a recipe under that title. Far less homespun than the real thing though.
Anyway, this afternoon, we decided to have a go at our own version. I approached the cakes with trepidation, and carefully made the first cone shaped incision. Having removed the lid, I then sliced it so it was flat. After that, I spooned a small amount of filling into the hollowed out cake - some apricot jam, others with Dulce de Leche. Then I replaced the lid and covered the tops with melted chocolate, making sure the lid was sealed in place.
A cup of tea is brewing, and the Blue Shed version of Proust's Madelaines moment awaits.
Today, however, the rain did put a damper on plans. Not practical to undertake the tasks planned for garden or allotment. But hopefully the plants are drinking it up, and maybe the rain will discourage the foxes from rummaging in my onion bed. Maybe it will even be heavy enough to drown out the wasp nest that has taken up residence in my straw bale stash.
Not that is stopped the Magpies. Their favourite trick of old was to rummage in the guttering for things to drop on us as we sat having tea on the deck. This year's new generation are a particularly delinquent bunch. They have taken to fishing stuff out of the compost pile and having a picnic on the roof of one of the hen houses. Not just stuff from our garden either - white bread, pizza crusts, disemboweled tea bags end up there. Happens to be the hen house where Giggy, our Leghorn resides. This small white feathery Ninja likes nothing better than to square up to anything passing by, so I would have loved to see her chicken martial art moves during the week.
Too wet to chase the Magpies off. Instead, we had a domestic day. Or rather Howard did. My sciatica decided to come back to haunt me this morning, so I reclined and did research while Howard gave the cupcake maker I'd bought him for Christmas a test drive. It worked a treat, and we now have a stash of banana muffins tucked away in a tin, plus some extra special ones cooling down.
When I was little, my mother used to bake all sorts of wonderful things. Family meals may have been predictable, but afternoon tea was always a treat. One of her special treats was "Home Made Jaffa Cakes". These were plain fairy cakes with the middle scooped out, filled with jam and sealed up with melted chocolate. I was miffed to see a well known chef publish a recipe under that title. Far less homespun than the real thing though.
Anyway, this afternoon, we decided to have a go at our own version. I approached the cakes with trepidation, and carefully made the first cone shaped incision. Having removed the lid, I then sliced it so it was flat. After that, I spooned a small amount of filling into the hollowed out cake - some apricot jam, others with Dulce de Leche. Then I replaced the lid and covered the tops with melted chocolate, making sure the lid was sealed in place.
A cup of tea is brewing, and the Blue Shed version of Proust's Madelaines moment awaits.
Sunday, 8 May 2011
How Positive Was Your Week? (Mine was - included new cheese discovery)
I'm sitting here listening to the rain, wondering of it will stop for long enough for us to follow our usual Sunday routine - over the allotment for a few hours, plus some garden work (mostly seed sowing). Truth is, the rain is most welcome, as it will soften the ground to help Howard prepare more beds for planting, and will top up the pond with water that doesn't need to sit to release the chlorine before being added.
Tomorrow sees the start of the first full five day working week for what seems like an age. Only three weeks for me, but for Howard much longer as he was off sick prior to the Easter break. Fortunately he's recovered fully from the chest virus, but he's discovered he now has sciatica as well (almost a year to the week since I had the work accident that triggered mine), and his cholesterol levels are slightly elevated. That last problem has meant he temporarily took the role of food police in the house and out shopping, but having read the ingredients and the processing methods of so called "healthy" spreads, he has decided to stick with butter, use slightly less and up his tomato, apples, and oats intake. He also uses the bike he brought down from his parents for solo errands in the local area. We're lucky to have an excellent GP at our surgery, who advised doing everything possible before prescribing pills. We'll see how things go in a few months.
The last two extended weekends have allowed us to get plenty of time in at the allotment, as well as run a few errands and have "adventures". The rhubarb bed has finally been extended onto one half of the site of the old compost bins. We picked a prodigious amount from the existing crowns, and ended up swapping some with another plotholder who had an excess of asparagus! So over Easter weekend we had asparagus for dinner three days out of four - steamed, griddled and finally as a puree.
The other half of the old composting area (included the site of my old leaf mould bin) has finally been turned into a new raspberry bed. The old canes I had taken from our previous allotment didn't thrive in the move, so I bought some more this year. When I was removing some of the canes from the pot I bought them in, a little newt popped out! I gather it up and placed it in the damp undergrowth in the wood. Hopefully it will have made its way to the brook or a pond, and maybe return once we have our ponds in place.
Having little interest in staying to two people we don't know personally get married, we spent the day at the allotment. Howard admitted that like me, he would like to see the flypast, but as we live on their usual route out of London, we could see in from the shed. Just our luck that this year they flew so low that the were the other side of the woods, below the treeline. Still, I have the memory of an evening last February when the helicopter carrying Obama flew over our house.
The Friday morning had started in spectacular fashion. Just before 8am, I was sorting out the hens, when I heard a commotion in the next street. Unidentified high pitched bird shrieks, and then the cause came into view - a Red Kite, being mobbed by a Carrion Crow and a Ring-Necked Parakeet! Last year we saw a Buzzard above the garden, high on the thermals, and we've seen Buzzards a few miles away in Cockfosters & Potters Bar. But the Kite was flying low enough to see its markings, let alone identify it by the tail shape. It may well have been roosting nearby, and just taken to the air. Eventually it flew off in the direction of Chase Farm and the M25. Don't know if it was a one-off, but a couple of days later I saw another Kite low over the M25 between London Colney & the A1.
Kites are a special bird to me. As a child, my family holidayed mostly in mid-Wales. I saw Kites in the wild when their population was at its lowest. One of my classmates' fathers worked for the RSPB, so he knew seeing Red Kites at that time was a big deal. When we travel "out west", we try to keep count of the number we see on our journey, and we have had to start the counting earlier on each journey. Let's hope they keep advancing.
Last Saturday we set out on one of our regular jaunts - the first Sarah Raven open day at Perch Hill for this year. The equivalent even last year was cold & bleak, with very few of the feature plants - tulips - more than in bud. This year it was warm, brilliant sunshine and the alliums had taken the baton from all but the late flowering tulips. We were both very taken with a Clematis growing over an arch - Clematis montana "Elizabeth" - pink flushed white flowers, with a gorgeous vanilla/chocolate scent. Made a note of it for the future, then had an excellent lunch of frittata and mixed salads. Despite having an excess of eggs at home (total 95 from 4 hens for April), we still plump for a healthy egg dish when dining out.
By now it was too late in the day to make for the coast, so we took a detour to another garden spot nearby - Merriments, an excellent garden centre, with display gardens and a tea room. Last time we had been there was on the way to Bexhill to see Band Of Horses in February, when there had been storm force winds that kept us under cover. This time we sat outside to have afternoon tea, before strolling round the plant sales area. First thing we passed were the Clematis, and I found the variety we admired at Sarah Raven!
May Day proper we were off on another jaunt - to the Grow Your Own show at Loseley House, near Guildford. A gorgeous setting and a good mix of stalls - some of my favourite seed suppliers (Thomas Etty & Pennard Plants), useful bits of kit, poultry and livestock to admire, and good food. Our lunch was an Ostrich burger, followed by Losely ice cream. The exotic burger stand was also selling Kangaroo and Zebra burgers, but I'm not sure how many of them were sold. As is our habit at country shows such as this, we replenished our sausage stock (having brought a chiller bag with this in mind). Also sampled, and then splashed out on some gorgeous chocolates, flavoured with fruit and herbs grown or gathered by the maker, plus honey from her own hives. Howard was allowed to try her "special reserve" - Seville orange zest left over from marmalade making, crystallised and coated in dark chocolate. He's already counting the days till mid-January so he can have a go himself.
There was a cheese stand, stocking product from local producers, including the makers of my current favourite British cheese, Saint Giles - High Weald Dairy. Tried their newest addition, Brother Michael, a more pungent version of Saint Giles. Another top notch cheese - lovely texture and a good kick to it. Ideal for a restorative nibble after a hard day's commute.
Bank Holiday Monday was spent over the allotment, including me managing to cook a Full English Breakfast (including mug of tea & toast) on a single ring camping stove! had a mid afternoon nap in the van we'd hired, and on waking spotted the first Swift of the year. Summer IS a coming in!
Tomorrow sees the start of the first full five day working week for what seems like an age. Only three weeks for me, but for Howard much longer as he was off sick prior to the Easter break. Fortunately he's recovered fully from the chest virus, but he's discovered he now has sciatica as well (almost a year to the week since I had the work accident that triggered mine), and his cholesterol levels are slightly elevated. That last problem has meant he temporarily took the role of food police in the house and out shopping, but having read the ingredients and the processing methods of so called "healthy" spreads, he has decided to stick with butter, use slightly less and up his tomato, apples, and oats intake. He also uses the bike he brought down from his parents for solo errands in the local area. We're lucky to have an excellent GP at our surgery, who advised doing everything possible before prescribing pills. We'll see how things go in a few months.
The last two extended weekends have allowed us to get plenty of time in at the allotment, as well as run a few errands and have "adventures". The rhubarb bed has finally been extended onto one half of the site of the old compost bins. We picked a prodigious amount from the existing crowns, and ended up swapping some with another plotholder who had an excess of asparagus! So over Easter weekend we had asparagus for dinner three days out of four - steamed, griddled and finally as a puree.
The other half of the old composting area (included the site of my old leaf mould bin) has finally been turned into a new raspberry bed. The old canes I had taken from our previous allotment didn't thrive in the move, so I bought some more this year. When I was removing some of the canes from the pot I bought them in, a little newt popped out! I gather it up and placed it in the damp undergrowth in the wood. Hopefully it will have made its way to the brook or a pond, and maybe return once we have our ponds in place.
Having little interest in staying to two people we don't know personally get married, we spent the day at the allotment. Howard admitted that like me, he would like to see the flypast, but as we live on their usual route out of London, we could see in from the shed. Just our luck that this year they flew so low that the were the other side of the woods, below the treeline. Still, I have the memory of an evening last February when the helicopter carrying Obama flew over our house.
The Friday morning had started in spectacular fashion. Just before 8am, I was sorting out the hens, when I heard a commotion in the next street. Unidentified high pitched bird shrieks, and then the cause came into view - a Red Kite, being mobbed by a Carrion Crow and a Ring-Necked Parakeet! Last year we saw a Buzzard above the garden, high on the thermals, and we've seen Buzzards a few miles away in Cockfosters & Potters Bar. But the Kite was flying low enough to see its markings, let alone identify it by the tail shape. It may well have been roosting nearby, and just taken to the air. Eventually it flew off in the direction of Chase Farm and the M25. Don't know if it was a one-off, but a couple of days later I saw another Kite low over the M25 between London Colney & the A1.
Kites are a special bird to me. As a child, my family holidayed mostly in mid-Wales. I saw Kites in the wild when their population was at its lowest. One of my classmates' fathers worked for the RSPB, so he knew seeing Red Kites at that time was a big deal. When we travel "out west", we try to keep count of the number we see on our journey, and we have had to start the counting earlier on each journey. Let's hope they keep advancing.
Last Saturday we set out on one of our regular jaunts - the first Sarah Raven open day at Perch Hill for this year. The equivalent even last year was cold & bleak, with very few of the feature plants - tulips - more than in bud. This year it was warm, brilliant sunshine and the alliums had taken the baton from all but the late flowering tulips. We were both very taken with a Clematis growing over an arch - Clematis montana "Elizabeth" - pink flushed white flowers, with a gorgeous vanilla/chocolate scent. Made a note of it for the future, then had an excellent lunch of frittata and mixed salads. Despite having an excess of eggs at home (total 95 from 4 hens for April), we still plump for a healthy egg dish when dining out.
By now it was too late in the day to make for the coast, so we took a detour to another garden spot nearby - Merriments, an excellent garden centre, with display gardens and a tea room. Last time we had been there was on the way to Bexhill to see Band Of Horses in February, when there had been storm force winds that kept us under cover. This time we sat outside to have afternoon tea, before strolling round the plant sales area. First thing we passed were the Clematis, and I found the variety we admired at Sarah Raven!
May Day proper we were off on another jaunt - to the Grow Your Own show at Loseley House, near Guildford. A gorgeous setting and a good mix of stalls - some of my favourite seed suppliers (Thomas Etty & Pennard Plants), useful bits of kit, poultry and livestock to admire, and good food. Our lunch was an Ostrich burger, followed by Losely ice cream. The exotic burger stand was also selling Kangaroo and Zebra burgers, but I'm not sure how many of them were sold. As is our habit at country shows such as this, we replenished our sausage stock (having brought a chiller bag with this in mind). Also sampled, and then splashed out on some gorgeous chocolates, flavoured with fruit and herbs grown or gathered by the maker, plus honey from her own hives. Howard was allowed to try her "special reserve" - Seville orange zest left over from marmalade making, crystallised and coated in dark chocolate. He's already counting the days till mid-January so he can have a go himself.
There was a cheese stand, stocking product from local producers, including the makers of my current favourite British cheese, Saint Giles - High Weald Dairy. Tried their newest addition, Brother Michael, a more pungent version of Saint Giles. Another top notch cheese - lovely texture and a good kick to it. Ideal for a restorative nibble after a hard day's commute.
Bank Holiday Monday was spent over the allotment, including me managing to cook a Full English Breakfast (including mug of tea & toast) on a single ring camping stove! had a mid afternoon nap in the van we'd hired, and on waking spotted the first Swift of the year. Summer IS a coming in!
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