Quiet

When I’m home alone, it’s pretty quiet around here.  If I don’t put on the radio, it could well be described as silent.  Even though I’ve been waiting for some entertainment from the new fridge, it’s staying pretty quiet and refusing to tap dance.  (Perhaps that’s a good thing?)

But when a few hundred people stand quietly in a park to remember, the silence is even quieter, if that is possible.

We joined our friends and the people of St Annes for the Commemoration ceremony yesterday, Remembrance Sunday, just as we did last year.  As we stood watching the wreath laying in the sunshine, a man sat alone, on a nearby park bench with his head in his hands. 

I couldn’t help but think that, were I a novelist, it could be the start of quite a story.

Operating noises explained

We have the instruction manual for the new fridge to add to the collection.  It has the same title as this blog post and has been created for a worldwide market.

We now know that if our new fridge purrs – sorry, brrrrrrrs like a cat, zisches or blubbs as if blowing bubbles, then all is O.K.  It’s even ok  (sorry, O.K.) if we think that we heard someone take a photograph in there, it seems, though I think that’s cause for concern.  I’m not sure I want people taking pictures in my fridge.

If we hear a fly ssssrrrring around, that’s also O.K.  It appears that it will probably be the fan.

If it starts to do a tap dance, clacking its clogs on the floor, then we won’t worry because it could be the ice inside it.  But I hope it doesn’t do its clog dance in the middle of the night or else it will be us who gggrrrr.   And I know that it says it’s O.K. if a train comes out of the door with a zsch but you know, I’d be pretty worried.  We’d better keep that fridge door firmly shut, because even though we are used to strange things in fridges I’m not sure about keeping trains in there.

Just when I was beginning to think that all noises were O.K. and I needn’t worry about anything, I came to the last two pictures. 

Now I’m anxious about what klirr sounds like.  After all, I need to know immediately that the bottles we’ve stored in there are unhappy so that I can let them out.  As for the last one – well, in a leaflet explaining operating noises, how strange to end in silence.

The things we do

when we can’t get into the kitchen, that is.

I do realise that when she sees this picture, Jordi might never speak to me again, so I’ll simply have to beg her forgiveness for posting it just for my own reference.  I know that next year, I won’t quite believe that I did it, but for now, I’ll simply say no more.

Just for the record

This year’s sloe gin* is gently steeping in the kitchen, slightly overshadowed by the chaos that surrounds it as our fridge and oven are replaced.  No more a simple old one out-new one in process, but a major operation involving at least two days work, the adjustment of three adjacent floor to ceiling cupboards and a modicum of plumbing work.  All of this is taking place amidst the contents of the aforementioned cupboards, hastily removed by Matt and Chris, the two delightful young men who didn’t trouble us when immediate action was needed but who simply moved every glass, mug, vase and dish we own onto the last remaining space on the worksurface.  They had already filled most of it with the contents of the pantry cupboard they’d emptied earlier.

We went to the pub for lunch and kept out of their way!  The kitchen’s going to be out of action overnight and I’m hoping they’ll manage to finish tomorrow, but it will take as long as they need and we won’t rush them.  Better to have it done well than quickly, I think.

So it’s a slight comfort to know that, thanks to the sloe-collecting efforts of my sweet friends Marjorie and Connie, we can close the door on the kitchen tonight and settle down to a glass of the newly bottled 2011 vintage sloe gin. 

It will warm the cockles, for sure.

* I used 2kg of frozen sloes, 1kg of sugar and 2.5 litres of gin which nicely filled a demijohn.  Freezing the sloes causes the skins to split, which means I don’t have to do that horrible pricking business, thank goodness.  We’ll give the demijohn a shake each day until all the sugar has dissolved, after which it will go down into the storeroom and quietly steep away for a couple of years, until I’m ready to bottle it.  Delicious! 

There it was, gone…

We were looking forward to an evening with friends last night and when I sent out the invitations, I was thinking about some kind of theme for dinner.  Should I think of some new and curious dishes to try or stick to old favourites?  Or maybe come up with some Halloween or Guy Fawkes idea?  But then I realised it was going to be Movember.  Not only could this be fun, but what better cause to support, I thought?

So when I suggested to the gentlemen, please wear your best “mo”, I thought that they’d all get out the eyebrow pencils or find one to stick on.  However, I really shouldn’t underestimate my friends, because word soon got around that David was going to grow the real thing and of course, if one is growing then the others won’t be far behind.  As the week rolled on, I heard a few mutters from the women, none of whom were enthusiastic about their heroes' new project, even if my own hero curiously won  acclaim from the gentlemen in his choir and not only found himself centre of attention but receiving of advice and admiration too.

Meanwhile, I was having fun.

Recognising that a few props might be needed, I put my Silhouette to use and having created some masks-on-sticks for the children at Halloween, I made something along similar lines for the eight of us.

I downloaded some fun bits and pieces from a great website and set to work on the menu.

Though I went for a few old favourites, I managed to find a few puns here and there and of course, made sure we had plenty of tashews and moustachios to nibble with our Mojitos.

Needless to say, the evening went with a swing!  After one or two mojitos, moustaches were appearing in all manner of surprising places.

By the end of the evening, when all that was left of the jellies and ice cream cocktails was the washing up (and a few empty bottles), we said goodnight to our friends and (most of) their moustaches.

This morning, only one “mo” is left in this house, too, and thankfully, it’s a paper one.

 

So the friends who’d invited us to lunch at the rather smart Wild Rabbit were disappointed, for they’d been looking forward to my hero’s appearance providing a source of amusement! 

What a yummy lunch we had with them, though!!