I keep my blog as a personal record of what I'm up to, which might be seen as working towards "An elegant sufficiency, content, retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, ease and alternate labour, useful life"

I'm certainly not there yet.  There is quite some way to go!

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Thursday
Sep152011

Still learning

 

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My journal is coming along nicely and building into quite a collection now, but after a weekend away, I’d got a little behind with my pages.

 

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A couple of hours were needed to sit and sort through the ephemera collected on the way and to print out a few labels and journal cards.

 

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Thankfully, that gave me the prompt for what I learned yesterday!

 

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And today?  Well, today I learned a new word, thanks to the crossword and my hero, who tells me that his own hero, the composer Joachim Raff, includes “Dans la Nacelle” in his repertoire of piano music.   Now, before you think that Raff was finding poetry and music in the aerodynamics of aircraft engine housings, be reassured that the French word nacelle can also refer to a small boat, but I find that use is now described as obsolete.

I shall just have to engineer a conversation about aerodynamics to drop it into then, won’t I?

Monday
Sep122011

Another handover

 

Thankfully, Marjorie and Connie have done me the honour again this year and we continued the tradition of a long gossipy lunch before bringing the sloes home ready to make this year’s batch of sloe gin.

 

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Buying three large bottles of gin at our local supermarket does nothing for my reputation and having sampled the new Penhaligon’s Juniper Sling whilst in London at the weekend, it’s as well I wasn’t wearing that particular perfume!  Do I really want to smell like an old soak?

 

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In no time at all, Bourton on the Water’s finest little sloes were thawing out and releasing their ruby coloured juices into the clear alcoholic liquid.  In a few short months it will be transformed into a gloriously rich and comforting elixir.

 

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It really is hard to imagine that those tough little bitter berries contain the magical ingredient that creates such a distinctive liqueur.

 

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I labelled the bottle and gave it one last swirl and shake and set it aside so that it can receive daily attention for one week.

 

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By then, all the sugar will have dissolved and it will take up residence in the storeroom alongside its older siblings until we’re ready to drink.

Mmmmmm.

Thank you for another year’s harvest, Marjorie and Connie!

Sunday
Sep112011

What a fun weekend!

 

We have packed so much fun into the last couple of days, it’s hard to know where to begin.

 

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We set off first thing Friday morning to drive up the M4, because we had plans to meet Mary for dinner that evening and we thought we’d take the opportunity to explore somewhere on our list.  We read online that parking was difficult, so armed with maps and a sense of adventure, we left the car by the river and walked up this little snicket, hoping we were on the right track.

 

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Sure enough, the path opened up and there was the entrance to a place we’d read so much about but actually, knew nothing. 

 

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The bursts of colour were exactly as I’d expected and the whole place was a feast for the eyes.

 

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I’m not sure I’d describe it as a Nursery with a restaurant attached, or vice versa – the dining room extended throughout the whole place and in every corner, we came across small tables and chairs tucked in under a plant or two.

 

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We enjoyed our coffee and cake, had a short mooch around admiring the sumptuous arrangements of flowers and fruit before thinking we’d better get ourselves back to the car and head on into the city.  It was starting to rain.

 

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We hurried along, passing wise advice posted to the fence by the meadows, thinking this was a surprisingly bucolic scene for somewhere so close to suburbia.

 

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Looking across the meadow, we spotted a large building on the brow of the hill, so I zoomed in using my new camera in the hope of identifying features.

 

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I paid little attention to the photograph I took until I arrived home this afternoon and noticed the small group of people on the grass there in front of the trees.

Time to zoom in again!

 

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Well, would you look at that!  A photo shoot in progress and a rather Victorian look to the little vignette of the photographer and his assistant, don’t you think?

 

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I’m afraid I still couldn’t identify the large building!  (I can now: it’s the Royal Star and Garter Home and I’ve just spent an interesting ten minutes reading all about a charity of which I knew nothing until now!)

 

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Another photo shoot was taking place on Oxford Street, the following day.  Perhaps this was more of a TV shoot though – Indian we thought.  They were doing well to keep the area clear of passers by, because as usual, the street was awash with people.  We hurried along back to the hotel though, because it was starting to rain.

It was fun seeing Mary on Friday night and a last minute stretch of the table to accommodate Edward was a bonus too.  Great food, wonderful service and the most amazing views at Galvin at Windows.  It was a short and sweet catch up with them both however, because after a brief scurry and a couple of errands on Saturday morning, we were off into Hertfordshire, where my hero had a concert to sing in.

 

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Sitting outside in the humid early evening air, we spotted the most enormous fungi growing under a tree in the churchyard.  Going over to take a photograph, I was delighted to be rewarded by the most beautiful patterns on the cap of each mushroom.

 

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Each one slightly different, they were growing in such a quiet and undisturbed corner I felt very lucky to have seen them!

The concert was good and the audience appreciative, though I spent my time trying to identify the reason why one particular lady looked so very familiar.  From the minute she arrived, I felt I recognised her and having checked that she wasn’t a “friend” of the choir, I had narrowed it down to the WI.  More than likely, she was someone I’d come across at a meeting or at our college and that was that.

Or?  It’s funny how my brain works.  Suddenly it came to me…a clear picture of the lady in question standing in a queue to board a plane in Dubai, another of her sitting in a Trivia team each afternoon and yet another sitting on the row in front of us dressed in tiara and pearls watching the Royal Wedding!  For sure, I believed that we had travelled together on our cruise this Easter…I had to go and chat to her, to check and satisfy my mind.

Bingo!  Spot on!

It took her a while to work out how she knew me, but I knew as soon as I said “Hello” that she did.  What fun to go through the “small world” conversation and to realise that though we live a hundred miles apart, we move in similar circles when all is said and done.

(Alan and Jane, you’d have spotted her right away, too!)

 

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This morning, we were up earlier than we needed, but took advantage of the bright and sunny morning and left straight after breakfast to visit Bicester Village. The bear above is called Porridge, by the way.

Hmm.  It was interesting, for sure.  We bought some teacups and saucers and some soap – but really, we felt like fish out of water!  Not being designer label types, we enjoyed watching the people rather more than visiting the shops and with a table waiting for us at The Trout, we left three or four cars to fight over our parking space and headed down the road towards home.  As we left, the heavens opened and people were running for cover.

 

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The Trout is a great place to eat and our Sunday lunch was super.  My roast beef came with all the trimmings, including a Yorkshire Pudding so good that even my Mum would have been impressed!  As we sat looking through the window, the heavens opened and the poor souls who’d chanced it and found no table indoors were left to shelter under the umbrellas.

 

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With full tummies we headed home, thinking how remarkable it was that we’d managed to stay dry the whole weekend, even though it’s poured down at times.  As we negotiated the tourists in Bibury, we voiced our usual reminiscence of changing our small baby’s nappy on the wall there by the river, some 26 years ago.  One day, we’ll petition for a blue plaque on that spot!

Now, we’re home and though we’re pleased to be here, we both agree that it’s been a terrific weekend.

Thursday
Sep082011

Today I learned

 

all sorts of things.  Keeping my notebook close to hand and jotting down this and that throughout the day is a great exercise and though I’ve usually got a small book to hand with a pencil tucked inside, Shimelle’s class prompts me to pay a little more attention and take a few more notes.

For example, a conversation with a WI friend this morning gave me cause to investigate the Order of St Lazarus and St John and the Queenhithe Ward Club.  I was writing a report for our monthly newsletter about the lovely people we’ve entertained to lunch during the past month and of course, instantly learned a great deal from five minutes googling.

Would I feature this on my daily page?  Possibly.

 

But a little later on, I was in the kitchen listening to Radio 3 and heard Sarah Walker play Rameau’s La Poule.  She introduced it by stating it was her favourite piece of music featuring chickens.

Huh?

My hero and I mulled over this and considered alternatives, if indeed there were any?  The first one he came up with was the Funky Chicken or the Birdie Song and reacting quickly before this could be taken any further (please, use your imagination!) I was humming the tune I associated with chickens.

“You know, da da da-da da, da da da-da da, doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo..” (as so on).

Well, I was up to my elbows in flour and sugar at the time, baking a birthday cake for a colleague to take to my meeting yesterday afternoon.

My hero sighed and realised I wasn’t going to leave it there.  He got out his iphone and looked for “chicken” on Spotify.  There appeared a long list of weird and totally offbeat answers, none of which bore any resemblance to the music I was thinking of.

“It’s by Debussy or Mussorgsky,” I said.  “Might be Pictures at an Exhibition.  you know…da da da-da da, da da da-da da, doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo..”

One click and it was playing.  Baba Yaga’s Hut on Chicken Legs.

 

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So, my page for today’s LSNED class features the story presented in the same format as I’m working in for this book.  The page is an envelope made from a magazine page (I think this was a photo of a staircase in a grand house), the brief journalling is printed onto a shipping label (happily acccepted by my HP printer if I whisper “epson” very quietly in its ear as I press the “print” button) and the full story on a card inside the envelope, together with any other ephemera from the day.  The picture is from a favourite film, Howls Moving Castle, which was loosely based on the Baba Yaga story.

What on earth will I learn today?!

Tuesday
Sep062011

Ta da!

 

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Yes, it’s a bit dark because the heavens were about to open and we had to put all the lights on, even though it wasn’t yet 5 o’clock.  But, less than an hour after the last post, the socks were finished and blocking, even if they are way too big for the sock blockers I have!

The Cat Bordhi pattern I used is fun to knit and creates a weirdly shaped sock which somehow fits my hero’s feet perfectly.  Deduce what you will from that. I think we’re talking high insteps or fallen arches or some such feature.  What makes these socks particularly well fitting is the area where most of the shaping normally goes on – where the foot turns into the ankle – and this pattern opens up that area very well indeed, making them easy to get on and off, because there’s plenty of room around that corner.  I guess that’s why they look as though they’re made for someone wearing a cast on their foot.  hmm.

 

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No sooner had I completed the socks than I was casting on 220 stitches on a large needle and starting the Big Herringbone Cowl.  This requires more tenacity than knitting skill, but is shaping up fairly well after only two l-o-n-g rows, knitting two together and only dropping one stitch off the left hand needle.  Slow going but mindless knitting – and perhaps what’s required after two complicated socks?

 

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As I was finishing those socks, I wondered why I’d left them so very close to completion?

I don’t like the colour.

Is that enough of a reason?  Or a mere excuse?

 

(As I type, the electricity keeps flashing on and off.  It’s really windy and rather squally today and it looks like we might be in for some fun – if you know what I mean!)