Some bloggers talk so much sense. Thank you B x
Look Mike, you’ll appreciate this (hope the running is going well) ..
I’ve got about twenty horse rugs to go and repair, wrap and ultimately deliver to eager clients whose horses are not naked, but wearing their ‘spares’. The pressure I feel upon my shoulders I have placed there myself, as there are approx 180 in the queue behind these twenty, waiting to be washed, proofed and dried before they join the to repair pile.
Before I rush off to the workshop on the farm here, approximately eighteen steps from my backdoor, I thought we’d make some chicken liver and bacon pa-tey. I guessed you’d not want to be left out because if you’re anything like me, you’ve probably got to this point in the day and not eaten enough. (I haven’t got time to go You-Tubing how to create the cute french accents on this keyboard for pa-tay, so lets do phonetics – what works for Year 1s and 2s in the education system should be good enough for us, right?).
I spotted packets of fresh chicken livers yesterday in Tescos while en-route to the dairy aisle, negotiating other shoppers’ trolleys. We had only gone in for five items but came out with a whole trolleyful; why does that happen? He had control of the trolley and whooshed off to find his gluten-free biscuits in a series of inertia-fuelled journeys, while I made a mental note to return to the veg area having forgotten garlic. Becoming side-tracked is one of my for-tays. Cream, check. Bacon, check. Livers, check. Onion, at home. oooh, look crisps (you don’t need those, but you want them because you’re hungry). Garlic, check. Nothing wrong with my memory I concluded as I juggled armfuls of ingredients, which did not contain crisps, along the middle wide area, searching left and right down each aisle and hoping he wasn’t at one of the ends at the wrong moment, or we’d be there all night. Ah! Spotted him with his head in the freezer cabinet buying three boxes of Vienetta; ‘The Boy likes this and we don’t wanna run out.’ I digress (you don’t say!).
The recipe calls for port ideally, but there is none in the cupboard. Hmmm, what to pop in instead … let’s try this; just a glug. Adds depth of flavour while the specific taste is fizzled out amongst the chopped onions and livers as they gently fry away. What is it about preparing food that is so immersive and relaxing? I simply don’t do it enough. Pants. Forgot the herbs (why don’t you have an area in your garden for herbs? Have you seen my garden? There’s more chance of the mole apocolypse taking place than me ever growing herbs).
Bacon is now crisp enough (for my liking) and lets add it to the mix … no-one will know if I crunch this piece and let the salt tingle at my tastebuds and my molars can crunch on that rind there.
Bacon then added, then cream. How much? Oh, I don’t know; how about the lot (Well that won’t help the waistline and you already need a new costume – dress – for the dinner dance because of all those extra pounds since last year. Thank you for reminding me).
Okay. Now it’s cool enough to whizz. Smells divine by the way (looks awful – I know but remember the sticky toffee pudding? That didn’t look too good either at one point!) On a serious note, if you enjoy looking at well thought-out foodie-based photographs, check out this amazing blogger Cooking without Limits!
Three weeks tomorrow I fly to Portugal. With a horsey-friend; long story which will unfold over some future blogs should you choose to stay around. I am very excited; I love travel and exploring new places. It’s fair to say I come alive and I apologise now if my posts become excitable and written in a frenzied fashion; I shall attempt to maintain ladylike poise at all times (*coughs*) … (That was just the last of that bout of flu; bastard thing).
What do you like with your pa-tay? Toast? Biscuits? Crudit-ays? This morning the pots have set and look quite good if I say so myself (I’ve done the self-esteem course!).
I made five pots. Gave one to my mother, who barely registered its existence before delivering all her bad news in a cloud of smoke.
I shall give one to mother in law later who, by contrast, will share all her previous pa-tay cooking stories from her traditional farmer’s wife life.
My husband appears to have consumed the other three and they’ve been prepared less than 24 hours. I’ll take that as a compliment and make more next time. Sorry there’s none left for you – I only got to smell it myself for the record.
Hope your afternoon (or if you’re reading from the other side of the pond; morning) is filled with vibes of achievement, even small ones.
I’ve written a blog and feel warm that I’m talking to you. Now I can relax and work. Mwah..
<a href=”http://Costume” target=”_blank” rel=”noopener”>costume
Thank goodness I bought two boxes. Half term and even 17 year old children appreciate a few home comforts, such as Eton Mess, thrown together in seconds – looking and tasting Ab Fab 🌸
But before mummy glances over at the linen apron hanging by the cooker with a vague notion she might do some kitchen stuff (and never worn since the day it was admired and purchased in the kitchen shop) mummy needs a sugar-boost. Nothing like a meringue to hit the spot, fizzing on the tongue…
I’ve been delivering all morning, negotiating country lanes with my tank (an Isuzu Denver double cab truck) and attempting to be a big grown up person – listening to some classic audio stories.
Hugh Laurie was reading Great Expectations to me and while I concentrated really hard to visualise the story and ‘get’ Charles Dickens’ writings so I can claim I am educated in the writings of scholars, may I admit I struggled with it?
Is it me? I’m quite positive the last time I looked I was not ‘above’ it – on the contrary, I know in fact that I am lacking in classics. Mother in law delighted in lending me her CD collection and I was genuinely pleased to welcome the chance to multi-task.
These are seriously dusty … have you ever bitten into one and breathed in simultaneously? I don’t recommend it… near death coughing experience will follow. *Dampens down hair and regains composure* (They never noticed a thing 👌🏼).
I was bored. QUICK! Strip that girl of all reading material until further notice…. I’m sorry, I was. But it may be more to do with where my brain is right now.
(mmmmmm… can’t waste that)
I’m enjoying reading thrillers or love stories right now and I think it’s ok to admit this to myself. I’ll save the classics for another day.
Here, would you like the last one? 🌸
(PS – I submitted a potential chapter 1 to the Mills&Boon competition; nothing to lose and only valuable lessons to gain from the guaranteed feedback, right? Just wanted to share that with you; my loyal lovelies)
One of my favourite films…
Audrey’s Holly Golightly was so forward-thinking for the time, using her charms to maintain her chosen lifestyle for a while … and what a gem was George Peppard’s character. If you recall he did not judge but befriended in a kind and funny manner while maintaining alpha properties; that’s an art and extremely attractive. Great film.
My favoured earl grey steeping.. what shall we have with it? (I warned you I would drag you along during this 24+ hours) … and we are reading a friend’s arc (advanced reader copy) while we have Breakfast at Masson de la Vie.
What would you choose if you were with me from this table stocked with luscious sweet and savoury treats? Or should we have something from the menu….
Once again, a taste of Europe … they do it so much better.
Basket of Bread methinks.. 😋
But it might leave you peckish if you haven’t had breakfast…
Nothing like a Shell garage heated-too-quickly snack to fill a hole, and burn the roof of your mouth.
What is it about the sanctuary of your own car as a teensy place to sit and contemplate stuff? Builders en route to work, wearing the statutory uniform of paint-encrusted old jogging bottoms once designed for greater things all queue for coffees and burgers. They compete for the most male stance in a queue – it’s cute actually, like any group of young male mammals strutting their stuff.
Then you’ve got the sensible grown up people in middle-class Volvos with bicycles 🚲 perched on the top, family politely obeying the rules – off on a weekend away breathing in the air of some English hill somewhere because they are fit and they are going to stay fit.
(How many times do you debate which coffee to ask the machine to spew out, only to revert to type and punch hot chocolate?)
And then there are the suits. They vary from Vauxhall-driving salesmen types (we all need those 👌🏼) to the red F-type owner who… are you serious – has asked the attendant to fill his car up?! Maybe it’s some Sheikh or other … he has certainly caught the attention of the builders!
Second course? Or should we save that for later. I bought these for you; I know you have a sweet tooth 🌸
Oooh, there’s a roar and a rumble just started. So excuse me… I’m just going to test this VW polo ….🤪
Wanted to mark the end of the weekend with you.. here, one mouthful for me and one for you; open wide!
Actually, I’ve got a headache, a full-on beastie migraine. So maybe we can recreate that scene from ‘9 1/2 Weeks’ another time (does this phone keyboard not have fractions?). I do suffer with migraines and I refer their severity in a range of 8/10 or higher being eyes covered in a dark quiet bedroom, unable to move, room spinning and nausea, down to zero whereupon everything is alright in the world again.
Insomnia last night won’t have helped will it. No alcohol has been consumed by me for days now – just in case any part of you wondered! I’ve taken three sets of these pretty nurofen pills across the day with absolutely no effect whatsoever 🙄. Two visits to a GP over the last few years always results in the same suggestion – reduce all the stress you can and take these beta-blockers every day until further notice. Thanks but no. Not yet. I know through exercise, food and SLEEP 😫I can go weeks without suffering (any tips from my regulars gratefully considered xx).
Anyway, back to the sex.
I truly think sex and food sells writing. Of the seventy posts I’ve written since October (really??) the one which has received over 50 likes and the most of all was sticky toffee pudding! I’ve purchased a black lace novel to see whether they have altered much since I last read one about fifteen years ago. Mind you, I ought to read a library full to gain a decent overall opinion – someone’s got to 😜.
I like reading a little naughty sometimes. I enjoy my thrillers as you know from my present read ‘The Gift’ as mentioned this morning. I also give time to a romance or a contemporary women’s comedy tale. I am, however, lacking in the classics I admit. I should read Little Women this year I think if no other.
Anyway, if you’re planning to recreate THAT scene by Kim Bassinger and Mickey Rourke (when he still looked human) don’t let me stop you, but can I suggest you add some blueberries my darlings… I hear their properties are extremely good for headaches.
Hope we all sleep well 🍓
As the dish went in the oven, I admit the ingredients could have looked more appetising. But this is the truth of the process; sticky toffee pudding before its glory on the plate, and the gunky sweetness which sticks to the back of your teeth. This photo is the real life part of the fantasy which will be the portion covered with cream, dribbling down across textured contours of sponge and jagged rocks of dates. Real life is the seven selfies you take before the one which is finally chosen for public scrutiny. That one becomes the fantasy. The image of what we ideally want ourselves to be.
In fact I had to bring it out again, because I forgot the components of the sticky bit. Dark muscovado sugar, unsalted butter and some boiling water … all sprinkled, dabbed and poured over the top before cooking commences. (That looks even worse).
Quality dates… most of which come from Iran apparently… create the dark rich taste of Nigella’s version here. I love Nigella’s approach to cooking; simplicity itself leaving time to enjoy the company of friends and family. And perhaps time to lick ones fingers on the stairs in a dressing gown… pants, the toffee sauce is so sticky, the spoon is stuck…
Today we are seeing friends in another county. I met her through ponies: my daughter had outgrown one and my friend (now of 10 years standing) had a son who needed a pony of that size. I say ‘need’ .. of course we parents never truly needed a pony, but once you start on the process of matching equine steeds to your offspring and safety being your top priority, you will travel far and wide for the ‘right’ animal. So as my husband drives and talks and I nod occasionally to show a little willing, but cheekily write this simultaneously, we have crossed the Thames and the border and entered the Garden of England.
I have made a new online friend this morning and her blog looks really cool, and this blogger also wants to be writing not procrastinating. Bingo. A writing buddy, like a running buddy can keep you on your fingertips. So we have agreed on a 1000 word goal
together. Let’s see if we make it ok?
I’m putting this phone down now before I go blind … have a great day folks!