In case you haven't noticed, it's Christmas time. Well, it's been Christmas and now we're in that limbo time between Christmas and New Year, during which I have done a whole lot of nothing. It's been prescribed nothingness because I've got some collapsed vertebrae (i.e. compression fractures in the spine) in my lower spine. It's another side effect of the long-term high-dose steroids I take for my lungs.
I first had back pain in August/September, but didn't think much of it. Then a couple of weeks ago I suddenly had excruciating pain that was making my legs feel weird - kind of tingly and achy all at once - and some weakness in left leg. I thought maybe I'd pulled something so waiting until the next day to go to my GP, thinking that maybe a good night's sleep would help. Only I didn't get a good night's sleep, and half way through the next day I decided that I probably should see my doc. When I did at last see him he sent me straight up to A&E, which was rather a surprise because I hadn't thought that back pain would warrant an A&E trip. X-rays apparently showed vertebral wedging and compressed vertebrae, and the A&E doc decided that I needed to have an urgent MRI, though thankfully not so urgent that I needed to be kept in. It turns out that a request for an urgent MRI can take several weeks, but I got my appointment through the other day, weirdly for next Sunday at stupid o'clock in the morning.
So I've spent the majority of the festive season flat on my back dosed up on Tramadol. Unfortunately Tramadol and alcohol are a bad combination, so I've had to skip the meds on the days I've wanted a drink, like Christmas Day. I don't usually drink much alcohol, but I have to say that I did make an exception this Christmas, although it was spread throughout the day.
Despite essentially having a broken back, I had a lovely Christmas Day. I've usually gone to my mum's in Edinburgh for Christmas, but this year she and my step-dad spent it with one of my brothers and his family down south, so I went to my good friends R and M. Just to be clear, I was invited; I didn't just turn up and say, 'Hi, I'm spending the day with you, and by the way, happy Christmas' ;o) R and M picked me up around 11am, and as previously arranged, we were all in our Christmas pyjamas for a truly comfortable Christmas Day :o) When we arrived back at R and M's it wasn't long before we got stuck in to the enormous spread of cheese and biscuits and wine. Mmmmmmmmm cheese..... I think it's fair to say that we stuffed ourselves.
Once we could move again, or rather, once R could move again - about six hours later - she started on the Christmas dinner. As my main contribution to the shared meal, I'd bought the turkey, but R did amazing things to it (nothing weird! Just tasty things like soaking it in brine and spices for 24 hours prior to cooking, as per a Nigella recipe) to make it exceptionally tasty and succulent. Ahh, it was delicious! Oh yeah, we had all the usual turkey trimmings too, but it was an hour and half later that any of us were able to squeeze in a slither of my mum's Becky-friendly Christmas cake. In fact, it probably would have been longer if time hadn't been an issue, but my taxi was due at 11pm, so it was then or never (or more likely, Boxing Day), and seeing as we hadn't opened the Baileys it seemed rude not to wash down the cake with a large glass of the creamy stuff each :o) hic!
So that's an outline of my Christmas Day. A very relaxing day with friendship, food, alcohol, presents (yes, we had a time of presents too, obviously), chat, laughs, Doctor Who, cheese, santa hats, pyjamas, fun, and lying around on the sofa. Yes, I'm rather afraid that I hogged one of their sofas (sorry R and M), but I was only obeying doctors' orders, and neither or them seemed to mind ... or at least, they didn't say they minded...
Anyway, Christmas Day was lovely.
I've had a very, very quiet time since then, having done very little indeed. I've needed it to be like that, if I'm honest, although it's also a bit lonesome at times, and definitely boring. I've caught up on some of my TiVo recordings, cuddled the cat a lot, slept a lot (thanks to the Tramadol), read a bit, tried not to think too much about most of the year that has been (although I will be doing so in the next day or two for my annual Review of the Year), and enjoyed the Christmas decorations.
My mum and step-dad are coming down to stay for a few days over New Year. R and M are coming on New Year's Eve too :o) It'll be another cheese fest with wine, chat, and maybe some games, but generally low-key. I'm looking forward to seeing Mum. For all that I had an excellent Christmas Day, I did miss Mum too. She and J were only going to stay until Friday, but since I got my MRI appointment for Sunday, Mum's offered to stay until after that and come to it with me :o) We won't get any results then - they'll take two to three weeks to get back to my GP (oh, and they're checking for disc, nerve, and spinal cord involvement) - but it'll still be good to have her support.
It's still early days for my back - I'm told it will take two to three months to repair itself - but the rest/lying down does seem to be helping. Having said that, I will go completely mad if I'm not able to get up and do things soon, and I'm pretty sure it would be good for my back muscles to start having to do some work before long ... wouldn't it? It's surprising how little information I've been given about these sorts of things actually. Hmm. Oh well, I guess the doc will tell me more when I go for a check up the week after next.
Well for now I think it's time I peel myself off the sofa, feed the cat, and go to bed. The Tramadol (and nefopam and paracetamol) has really messed with my sleep pattern, but I don't care much if it means that I sleep through some of the pain.
Oh, and my blogosphere new year's resolution will be to post more often. I've been rubbish at it this year. Sorry. It's been tough.
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Monday, 30 December 2013
Monday, 16 July 2012
Decision made
It's a while since I posted because I've been busy with writing things for my MA portfolio/dissertation, but it didn't take me long after my last post to make my final decision about whether or not to give up being a vegetarian. As I said in that post, I had been thinking about it for a long time, although I hadn't told anyone. I have made the decision to break my twenty year meat fast, and have surprised many with my decision. I thought my mum wouldn't be quite so surprised because I'd talked a little about it with her while we were away together, but she really was. She still is. My brother, M, has been surprised but more supportive than I could have imagined.
There were many reasons I came to the decision I have, some of which I talked about in my previous post, some of which I touched on. I'm not going to go through them again, but I do think I've come to the right decision for me at this time. It still surprises me when I look in the mirror and I suddenly think, 'Hey, you're not vegetarian any more,' because it's been part of my identity for twenty years - all of my adult life. The rest of the time it's felt like a new adventure.
I have no idea how to cook meat so I've been buying cook books from here, there, and everywhere. Having said that, the fishmonger has been really helpful the couple of times I've been there, and the butcher at the farm shop was also helpful, if a little perplexed (even though I had explained it to him).
Once I'd made my decision to eat meat again I thought it would be a good idea to see if I could get an appointment with the dietician at the immunology department. It took several days to get to speak to her on the phone, but she was very helpful and is very happy to see me face-to-face, although it means getting a re-referral from my GP as it's over a year since I was seen in the immunology department. The referral is now going through, but in the meantime the dietician said that one of the main pieces of advice is that as a general rule I should never eat meat bought from a supermarket because of the added colourings and preservatives. I also can't have any cured meat (unless I cure it myself). I did in fact speak to the butcher at one of the big supermarkets nearby. I won't name the supermarket chain, but the butcher did tell me that they do dye a lot of their meats. Even the organic meats, which arrive at the shop unadulterated, but then the supermarket themselves add the dye. They can still sell the meat as organic, because that is how it has been reared and prepared, up until the point of arrival in the shop. I don't know about you, but I think that's diabolical.
Before I became vegetarian I never enjoyed holding raw meat, but I've done a lot of reading in recent times, and one of the books I've read is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's 'Meat' book. In it he talks a lot about the ethics of eating meat, and says that if an animal dies for us to eat then we have a responsibility to treat it with the respect that it deserves (it says a lot of other things too and is worth reading). I've born this in mind when I've been handling fish and chicken - the only two meats I've eaten so far - and haven't had that thought of 'Eurgh, this is disgusting,' that I used to have. It is, after all, still just the animal that was walking around in the field, or swimming in the sea/river, before and that I respected. I'm going to be trying lamb tomorrow, and I'm hoping that I'll feel the same way with that too. I can't see any reason why I wouldn't.
It's taking a bit of getting used to having meat in my mouth again. It's the texture, not the taste, and the weird feeling of having my teeth kind of stuck together by the food that I'm eating. But so far as the taste is concerned, I've liked it. So far I've had trout, salmon, sole, and chicken, but I'm very much still learning how to cook any of it, although the advice I've had from the fishmonger and farm shop butcher has been spot on.
I think this is going to be an interesting journey. It may not always be entirely comfortable, but that'll be for me to consider along the way. At the moment I think I've made the right decision for me, not least because I've just been diagnosed as anaemic again. I'm sick of taking endless tablets, and whilst there's not a lot I can do about taking almost all of them, I can try to help myself with my iron levels, and maybe not have to rely on iron tablets for too long.
There were many reasons I came to the decision I have, some of which I talked about in my previous post, some of which I touched on. I'm not going to go through them again, but I do think I've come to the right decision for me at this time. It still surprises me when I look in the mirror and I suddenly think, 'Hey, you're not vegetarian any more,' because it's been part of my identity for twenty years - all of my adult life. The rest of the time it's felt like a new adventure.
I have no idea how to cook meat so I've been buying cook books from here, there, and everywhere. Having said that, the fishmonger has been really helpful the couple of times I've been there, and the butcher at the farm shop was also helpful, if a little perplexed (even though I had explained it to him).
Once I'd made my decision to eat meat again I thought it would be a good idea to see if I could get an appointment with the dietician at the immunology department. It took several days to get to speak to her on the phone, but she was very helpful and is very happy to see me face-to-face, although it means getting a re-referral from my GP as it's over a year since I was seen in the immunology department. The referral is now going through, but in the meantime the dietician said that one of the main pieces of advice is that as a general rule I should never eat meat bought from a supermarket because of the added colourings and preservatives. I also can't have any cured meat (unless I cure it myself). I did in fact speak to the butcher at one of the big supermarkets nearby. I won't name the supermarket chain, but the butcher did tell me that they do dye a lot of their meats. Even the organic meats, which arrive at the shop unadulterated, but then the supermarket themselves add the dye. They can still sell the meat as organic, because that is how it has been reared and prepared, up until the point of arrival in the shop. I don't know about you, but I think that's diabolical.
Before I became vegetarian I never enjoyed holding raw meat, but I've done a lot of reading in recent times, and one of the books I've read is Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's 'Meat' book. In it he talks a lot about the ethics of eating meat, and says that if an animal dies for us to eat then we have a responsibility to treat it with the respect that it deserves (it says a lot of other things too and is worth reading). I've born this in mind when I've been handling fish and chicken - the only two meats I've eaten so far - and haven't had that thought of 'Eurgh, this is disgusting,' that I used to have. It is, after all, still just the animal that was walking around in the field, or swimming in the sea/river, before and that I respected. I'm going to be trying lamb tomorrow, and I'm hoping that I'll feel the same way with that too. I can't see any reason why I wouldn't.
It's taking a bit of getting used to having meat in my mouth again. It's the texture, not the taste, and the weird feeling of having my teeth kind of stuck together by the food that I'm eating. But so far as the taste is concerned, I've liked it. So far I've had trout, salmon, sole, and chicken, but I'm very much still learning how to cook any of it, although the advice I've had from the fishmonger and farm shop butcher has been spot on.
I think this is going to be an interesting journey. It may not always be entirely comfortable, but that'll be for me to consider along the way. At the moment I think I've made the right decision for me, not least because I've just been diagnosed as anaemic again. I'm sick of taking endless tablets, and whilst there's not a lot I can do about taking almost all of them, I can try to help myself with my iron levels, and maybe not have to rely on iron tablets for too long.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
Controversial
I'm the sort of person who usually thinks about big decisions a lot before 'making them public', which means that such decisions can appear to others to come out of the blue. This happened when I set up my business, '9 Lives Craft Designs.' I thought about it a great deal and looked into the practicalities and financial implications on my own before telling others my plans. When I did then tell people they were somewhat surprised the next time they came around and my flat was covered in handmade cards and craft materials all over the place.
I'm thinking about something 'big' now. Something that will greatly surprise those who know me well and have known me a long time ... I'm thinking ... Hmmm, am I ready to disclose this? ... I guess I must be in some respects as I've started writing this post ... ... ... I'm thinking of giving up vegetarianism. There, I've said it.
I haven't yet made my final decision, and it is a major decision because I have been a lacto-ovo vegetarian (a vegetarian who drinks milk and eats eggs) for twenty years. There were a number of reasons I decided to become vegetarian all that time ago: firstly, there were the ethics of eating meat, manufacturing animals, and slaughtering animals; and then there was the fact that I was in the midst of an eating disorder, and any reason not to eat something was helpful in maintaining that disorder 'legitimately'. There were other reasons too, but these are probably the two that are most influential in this time of reconsideration.
I have battled with my weight for years, but during my late teens and twenties I fought with both anorexia and bulimia. I have overcome these, but I have soared into the obese range, and I don't just mean this as a subjective thing from my perspective. As I've said, my decision to become vegetarian was also based upon my ethics, but it was also influenced by my fear of food at the time. Yes, I still battle with food, but I wonder if it might make a difference if I tried giving up this last restriction I imposed upon myself, although I have to say that it hasn't felt like an imposition.
As for the ethical thing, that's more difficult. I still have big uncertainties about the meat industry, and should I decide to become omnivorous again I would avoid mass-produced meat. Mind you, I wouldn't be able to eat most of the mass-produced stuff anyway because of allergies. Most supermarket meat is injected with red food colouring to make it appear bloodier and therefore fresher, and some are also covered in preservatives. Both colourings and most preservatives instigate anaphylaxis in me.
That said, health is one of the things that's been making me think about giving up vegetarianism. My diet is so restricted because of my allergies, and although I've managed well since all the allergies were eventually diagnosed seven years ago, I depend on dairy products and eggs a great deal as sources of protein. In recent years I have also been prone to anaemia, which is exhausting and doesn't at all help the POTS, or my health in general. Yes, I have beans and pulses regularly, but I'm still lacking in protein and iron.
I know that some vegetarians who return to an omnivorous diet eat only fish. Some still continue to call themselves vegetarian even though they eat fish. I don't hold with that view - that you are vegetarian if you eat fish, because it's still a body. I wonder what the ethics are behind only eating fish... I'm not convinced that eating fish is any different from eating any other animal, and I think that if I decide to give up vegetarianism then I will not differentiate between fish and meat.
I was in the supermarket today, and whilst I wouldn't be able to eat supermarket meat, as previously mentioned, I did make myself wander down the meat aisle. I'm not sure how I felt.
Contemplating this change in lifestyle feels very controversial ... mainly within myself, but maybe too with those who've known me for a long time.
I haven't yet made the decision, but I know which way I'm veering.
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Festivities
I seem to have entirely avoided talking about Christmas and New Year here, but I have been very much immersed in the festivities in reality. I've actually been celebrating Christmas and it's joys since at least a couple of weeks before Christmas Day, so I thought I'd tell you a little about what I've been up to.
Back at the beginning of December, somewhere around the 8th, W and I had been planning on going to the Enchanted Parks event at Saltwell Park, Gateshead. We'd booked our tickets a while back and were looking forward to it as we hadn't managed to get to it last year because the weather was so awful (deep snow and temperatures of -9C). Unfortunately there were huge gales on 8th December and Gateshead council decided to cancel the Enchanted Parks event for that night. We were disappointed, but the disappointment was short-lived as we were offered alternative tickets for the Saturday evening.
I met W outside the park, having gone in Taz on the bus. This made much more sense than W traipsing all the way over to Newcastle and then coming on the bus with me as she lives not too far from the park. I hadn't been sure how long it would take me to get there on the bus, and in fact I was a little early, but I sat chatting to the nice folk manning the gates while I waited. You could see from the outside that something was going on in the park, and the sky above the big field was lit with searchlight-like strobes that made me think how things might have been during WWII ... perhaps made all the more evocative by my reading a book at the time set during WWII.
Anyway, W arrived and we made our way into the park, which was far from war-like. The main path up to the ticket office had its trees lit in multicolour, and there was a sense of party and celebration from all who headed up towards the event.
The event was a show of light and sound and sculpture, taking the viewer through the darkness of the park and surprising us with what was presented. Here are few of the highlights:
These snakes were attached to a huge head made from a tree stump/root. They were a kind of representation of Medussa, and there was some eerie music eminating from the surrounding area.
The old building in the middle of the park was opened up for refreshments. We didn't make use of the refreshments, but we did watch as the projected kalaidescope lit the building outside, and the patterns changed as people queued up with their selection of shapes to be shone onto the walls.
The bandstand was dripping in lights and looking magical in the darkness.
A fabulous ice sculpture with changing colours. When it was lit orange or red it felt wrong that it was cold to touch. All my senses were expecting heat, even though I knew it was ice. I loved this sculpture - probably my favourite piece in the event.
Although I did also very much like these bird cage-like sculptures hanging in the trees as well.
Time for a light tea, perhaps?
A selection of the lit trees and foliage from around the park.
It was a very enjoyable evening, and thankfully not too cold. However, Taz hadn't been completely charged up when I'd set off as I'd gone out earlier in the day, so I almost didn't make it back. Taz's battery indicator was flashing on one red bar by the time I got home and I nearly came to a stand-still before getting home. Thankfully turning Taz off when on the bus allowed it enough of a break to see me home and parked up in the living room, but it was a very close call, and Taz only just crawled into place.
So that was the Enchanted Parks.
On 16th December W and I had Christmas together. She came over to my house in the afternoon and we had Christmas dinner consisting of a vegetarian loaf thingumy I'd made with lots of sagey flavours, and of course we had all the roast dinner accompaniments - roast potatoes, roast parsnips, carrots, sprouts in sage and lemon butter, and homemade crab apple jelly. This was followed by a time of present swapping and 'slump and grunt', before W prepared pudding in the slow cooker and we went out to Gibside in the evening. Gibside is a National Trust property, and every friday night since the summer they've apparently been doing a beer tent and open fires between 6-9pm. On 16th December they also had carol singers and had a stand for hog roast and mulled wine. Neither W or I were up for the hog roast (I'm vegetarian, I'd probably have been allergic to it anyway, and both of us were stuffed after Christmas dinner), but we did have a drink - I had a Fentiman's lemonade whilst W had a half pint of Legless Santa :oD We sat around one of the fire grates, warming ourselves from the icy cold (we had a white Christmas that day) as we drank our drinks and soaked up the atmosphere, listening to the carols. We were only there for about an hour, but it was very festive and a lovely thing to do on our Christmas Day together.
When we got back to mine we had just enough space to squeeze in our chocolate puddings with melty middles. That is that the chocolate puddings had melty middles, not us ... we had rather bloated middles from all the yummy food. Unfortunately we had both forgotten to buy either cream or ice-cream to go with the puddings, but W had the fantastic idea of drenching the puddings with Bailey's instead. Marvellous! Delicious! Very, very scrummy!
On 21st I came up to Edinburgh to have actual Christmas with my mum and step-dad. I've been having a very lovely, very quiet, very relaxed time. To be honest, I haven't been 100% well (when am I these days?) with some mild lurgies that I think I picked up at the carol service at church on 18th - which was fantastic, by the way. My lungs haven't been very happy, and I've had very disturbed sleep with lots of coughing and wheezing every night, but I've been very well looked after and have thus far avoided needing any medical intervention. I think I've got through the worst of it now, so hopefully I'll be able to stay out of hospital throughout this lurgification.
I'm going home today. My train is at 9pm. I'll be sad to go home as I've had such a lovely time here, but before I go I get the pleasure of seeing my older brother and his family as they are about to descend on my mum and J for five days and we have a few hours of cross-over time. I'm sure it'll confuse O (5) and D (3) no end that I'm here, as they found it hilarious when I told them that I was their daddy's sister, so they'll probably find it difficult to comprehend that Grandma is also Aunty Becky's mummy.
Actually, I'd probably better sign off before they arrive. They're due almost imminently, so I shall brace myself for an invasion of boystrous energy.
Next stop, New Year's Eve at a friend's house. I think it's going to be a relatively quiet and civilised evening ... far from what I expect of this evening before I head off home.
Back at the beginning of December, somewhere around the 8th, W and I had been planning on going to the Enchanted Parks event at Saltwell Park, Gateshead. We'd booked our tickets a while back and were looking forward to it as we hadn't managed to get to it last year because the weather was so awful (deep snow and temperatures of -9C). Unfortunately there were huge gales on 8th December and Gateshead council decided to cancel the Enchanted Parks event for that night. We were disappointed, but the disappointment was short-lived as we were offered alternative tickets for the Saturday evening.
I met W outside the park, having gone in Taz on the bus. This made much more sense than W traipsing all the way over to Newcastle and then coming on the bus with me as she lives not too far from the park. I hadn't been sure how long it would take me to get there on the bus, and in fact I was a little early, but I sat chatting to the nice folk manning the gates while I waited. You could see from the outside that something was going on in the park, and the sky above the big field was lit with searchlight-like strobes that made me think how things might have been during WWII ... perhaps made all the more evocative by my reading a book at the time set during WWII.
Anyway, W arrived and we made our way into the park, which was far from war-like. The main path up to the ticket office had its trees lit in multicolour, and there was a sense of party and celebration from all who headed up towards the event.
The event was a show of light and sound and sculpture, taking the viewer through the darkness of the park and surprising us with what was presented. Here are few of the highlights:
It was a very enjoyable evening, and thankfully not too cold. However, Taz hadn't been completely charged up when I'd set off as I'd gone out earlier in the day, so I almost didn't make it back. Taz's battery indicator was flashing on one red bar by the time I got home and I nearly came to a stand-still before getting home. Thankfully turning Taz off when on the bus allowed it enough of a break to see me home and parked up in the living room, but it was a very close call, and Taz only just crawled into place.
So that was the Enchanted Parks.
On 16th December W and I had Christmas together. She came over to my house in the afternoon and we had Christmas dinner consisting of a vegetarian loaf thingumy I'd made with lots of sagey flavours, and of course we had all the roast dinner accompaniments - roast potatoes, roast parsnips, carrots, sprouts in sage and lemon butter, and homemade crab apple jelly. This was followed by a time of present swapping and 'slump and grunt', before W prepared pudding in the slow cooker and we went out to Gibside in the evening. Gibside is a National Trust property, and every friday night since the summer they've apparently been doing a beer tent and open fires between 6-9pm. On 16th December they also had carol singers and had a stand for hog roast and mulled wine. Neither W or I were up for the hog roast (I'm vegetarian, I'd probably have been allergic to it anyway, and both of us were stuffed after Christmas dinner), but we did have a drink - I had a Fentiman's lemonade whilst W had a half pint of Legless Santa :oD We sat around one of the fire grates, warming ourselves from the icy cold (we had a white Christmas that day) as we drank our drinks and soaked up the atmosphere, listening to the carols. We were only there for about an hour, but it was very festive and a lovely thing to do on our Christmas Day together.
When we got back to mine we had just enough space to squeeze in our chocolate puddings with melty middles. That is that the chocolate puddings had melty middles, not us ... we had rather bloated middles from all the yummy food. Unfortunately we had both forgotten to buy either cream or ice-cream to go with the puddings, but W had the fantastic idea of drenching the puddings with Bailey's instead. Marvellous! Delicious! Very, very scrummy!
On 21st I came up to Edinburgh to have actual Christmas with my mum and step-dad. I've been having a very lovely, very quiet, very relaxed time. To be honest, I haven't been 100% well (when am I these days?) with some mild lurgies that I think I picked up at the carol service at church on 18th - which was fantastic, by the way. My lungs haven't been very happy, and I've had very disturbed sleep with lots of coughing and wheezing every night, but I've been very well looked after and have thus far avoided needing any medical intervention. I think I've got through the worst of it now, so hopefully I'll be able to stay out of hospital throughout this lurgification.
I'm going home today. My train is at 9pm. I'll be sad to go home as I've had such a lovely time here, but before I go I get the pleasure of seeing my older brother and his family as they are about to descend on my mum and J for five days and we have a few hours of cross-over time. I'm sure it'll confuse O (5) and D (3) no end that I'm here, as they found it hilarious when I told them that I was their daddy's sister, so they'll probably find it difficult to comprehend that Grandma is also Aunty Becky's mummy.
Actually, I'd probably better sign off before they arrive. They're due almost imminently, so I shall brace myself for an invasion of boystrous energy.
Next stop, New Year's Eve at a friend's house. I think it's going to be a relatively quiet and civilised evening ... far from what I expect of this evening before I head off home.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
You're fired! You're hired!
You probably remember that my last hospital admission was triggered by an allergic reaction, and that the most likely cause of the reaction was vegetables not being cleaned thoroughly enough by the carer before cooking. You may also remember that Social Services were having to conduct an investigation because of the seriousness of my situation. The investigation turned into a bit of a farse, in my opinion. 'They' asked the carer in question for an account of what she'd done in preparing my meal that evening, which she described, also adding that she didn't think she could have done anything differently. 'They' then decided that I must have developed a new allergy. Case closed.
I have eaten all the ingredients of the fated meal since then with no reaction. I have not developed a new allergy. Case not quite closed, if you ask me. I made it clear to the social worker that, in my opinion, this is a cop-out, and that I definitely haven't developed a new allergy. The social worker was apologetic, and acknowledged that 'they' didn't have the clinical expertise to diagnose the development of a new and non-existent allergy without clinical examination, i.e. they shouldn't have jumped to this conclusion simply because the carer said she thinks she washed the veg okay.
Actually, the social worker was lovely, and she came here (to my home) with one of the clinical nurse assessors. After talking it all through, and discussing my on-going care needs, it was decided between the three of us that a different care agency would be found for me as the current one aren't providing the service they're being paid to provide to an adequate standard. The social worker left saying that she'd give the agency their 28 days notice. They're now working this notice.
The social worker told me about a relatively new care agency that allows the client to interview prospective carers, and what she'd heard so far about the agency all seemed to be positive, so I agreed that they might be a good choice. I had the manager from that agency come round on Tuesday to discuss my care needs, and I was able to stress that whoever comes must be able to cook. I described some of the experiences I've had with carers from the current agency, and after she picked up her jaw off the floor she agreed that the ability to cook something more technically demanding than a ready-meal was a definite must.
I had a call from the manager of the new agency today. She's 'identified at least one suitable possibility in their carer pool,' and they're both coming round tomorrow afternoon. The manager will go through the paperwork that she didn't bring on Tuesday, and the three of us will discuss my 'needs and expectations,' and then I think the carer said that she'll leave me and the prospective carer alone for a while so we can discuss things further and I can ask any questions I may have.
I currently get my domestic care (cleaning etc) provided by a different agency. I'm not sure how it happened this way, but I've been thinking that it would make more sense to have all my care provided by one agency if possible, so on Tuesday I asked the manager of the new agency about the possibility of getting my domestic care through them as well. Of course, it'd first have to go through the social worker so that she can discontinue the contract with the current agency, but there shouldn't be a problem, especially as it's a bit of a battle to get the person who comes for my domestic care to do a decent job. The agency manager said they'd be happy to provide that service too, but maybe I'd want to see how they pan out with the other bit of the care package first, and that it wouldn't matter if it didn't all start at the same time. This is looking promising.
So far the new agency seem much more client-centred than the other agencies I've had, even to the point of asking me what time would be good for me to have them come! No more having my main meal of the day being prepared at 4.30pm - hurrah!
I have eaten all the ingredients of the fated meal since then with no reaction. I have not developed a new allergy. Case not quite closed, if you ask me. I made it clear to the social worker that, in my opinion, this is a cop-out, and that I definitely haven't developed a new allergy. The social worker was apologetic, and acknowledged that 'they' didn't have the clinical expertise to diagnose the development of a new and non-existent allergy without clinical examination, i.e. they shouldn't have jumped to this conclusion simply because the carer said she thinks she washed the veg okay.
Actually, the social worker was lovely, and she came here (to my home) with one of the clinical nurse assessors. After talking it all through, and discussing my on-going care needs, it was decided between the three of us that a different care agency would be found for me as the current one aren't providing the service they're being paid to provide to an adequate standard. The social worker left saying that she'd give the agency their 28 days notice. They're now working this notice.
The social worker told me about a relatively new care agency that allows the client to interview prospective carers, and what she'd heard so far about the agency all seemed to be positive, so I agreed that they might be a good choice. I had the manager from that agency come round on Tuesday to discuss my care needs, and I was able to stress that whoever comes must be able to cook. I described some of the experiences I've had with carers from the current agency, and after she picked up her jaw off the floor she agreed that the ability to cook something more technically demanding than a ready-meal was a definite must.
I had a call from the manager of the new agency today. She's 'identified at least one suitable possibility in their carer pool,' and they're both coming round tomorrow afternoon. The manager will go through the paperwork that she didn't bring on Tuesday, and the three of us will discuss my 'needs and expectations,' and then I think the carer said that she'll leave me and the prospective carer alone for a while so we can discuss things further and I can ask any questions I may have.
I currently get my domestic care (cleaning etc) provided by a different agency. I'm not sure how it happened this way, but I've been thinking that it would make more sense to have all my care provided by one agency if possible, so on Tuesday I asked the manager of the new agency about the possibility of getting my domestic care through them as well. Of course, it'd first have to go through the social worker so that she can discontinue the contract with the current agency, but there shouldn't be a problem, especially as it's a bit of a battle to get the person who comes for my domestic care to do a decent job. The agency manager said they'd be happy to provide that service too, but maybe I'd want to see how they pan out with the other bit of the care package first, and that it wouldn't matter if it didn't all start at the same time. This is looking promising.
So far the new agency seem much more client-centred than the other agencies I've had, even to the point of asking me what time would be good for me to have them come! No more having my main meal of the day being prepared at 4.30pm - hurrah!
Tuesday, 10 May 2011
What next?
I feel rubbish and I'm afraid this is likely to be a bit of a moan.
I guess I'll start with the good bit, which is that my lungs are improving and I'm now off the oxygen. My oxygen sats are a little on the low side, but that's fairly normal for me when I first come off the O2 and my body gets used to doing without the extra. It's fine. They'll sort themselves out.
All is not well though, and the bladder and kidney spasms I was experiencing progressed into renal colic with excrutiating pain that ultimately caused me to pass out and end up in a very distressed state. Yesterday was a day of total agony with the renal colic, and today hasn't been great either, although it hasn't been as protracted as yesterday. When I'd been transferred from the RVI to ward 29 I had gone into urine retention, so had needed to be catheterised. There was thought today that the catheter might be aggravating my bladder and making the renal colic worse so it was removed this morning, and it does seem to have lessened the pain a little, although when it comes it's still bloody awful. However, it also seems that I've developed a urinary tract infection, with blood in my urine, which is making me feel rubbish and ill, and totally worn out. It's one thing after another, and all on top of Nn's death, and I feel like I'm running out of resources.
Then there's the whole thing of how I ended up in here this time - the allergy and subsequent asthma attack. Social Services are having to do an investigation into what happened because of the severity of the consequences. This is probably a good thing, but it is somewhat anxiety provoking. I don't want the carer who prepared the fated meal to become a scape-goat for the inadequacies of the system, and I don't want to be faced with negative attitudes myself when I eventually get home and have the carers back. I don't particularly want the same care agency to resume my care, because I think it might be quite difficult and ... well, can I trust that the same mistake won't be made again? Perhaps it'll mean greater vigilence by the carers when preparing my meals, but not necessarily. I don't know what the answer is. Anyway, the main thing is this protection of vulnerable adults high risk assessment investigation that's going on. A social worker conducting the investigation spoke to the staff on ITU when I was there, and they've also spoken to W to ask for her account of events. They were in contact with the ward here last week asking if they could come and interview me 'at some point in the next day or two', which I presumed to mean they'd come last week, but nobody came. The ward sister contacted Social Services about it yesterday and apparently they still plan to come and interview me, but didn't say when it'd be. In the meantime they sent up one of the hospital social workers to ask a few of the questions they had, although she also said that the investigating social worker would definitely be coming to interview me along with someone from the care agency! It's hanging over me now, causing me stress. I'm trying not to think about it, but it's difficult. It seems like a huge thing to be going on, and totally out of my control. Of course I can see that it needs to be done, after all the event nearly cost me my life, but I don't have much in the way of resources to cope with the enormity of it ... and as I say, I don't want the carer involved to be scape-goated. The agency are contracted to provide a particular service for me so they should be able to provide staff with adequate training and skills to provide that service. The fact is that they don't, so it's the system that's really at fault, not the individual. I just don't know what's going to happen or what attitude I'm going to presented with when I'm interviewed.
Sometimes life gets on top of me. Now is one of those times.
I guess I'll start with the good bit, which is that my lungs are improving and I'm now off the oxygen. My oxygen sats are a little on the low side, but that's fairly normal for me when I first come off the O2 and my body gets used to doing without the extra. It's fine. They'll sort themselves out.
All is not well though, and the bladder and kidney spasms I was experiencing progressed into renal colic with excrutiating pain that ultimately caused me to pass out and end up in a very distressed state. Yesterday was a day of total agony with the renal colic, and today hasn't been great either, although it hasn't been as protracted as yesterday. When I'd been transferred from the RVI to ward 29 I had gone into urine retention, so had needed to be catheterised. There was thought today that the catheter might be aggravating my bladder and making the renal colic worse so it was removed this morning, and it does seem to have lessened the pain a little, although when it comes it's still bloody awful. However, it also seems that I've developed a urinary tract infection, with blood in my urine, which is making me feel rubbish and ill, and totally worn out. It's one thing after another, and all on top of Nn's death, and I feel like I'm running out of resources.
Then there's the whole thing of how I ended up in here this time - the allergy and subsequent asthma attack. Social Services are having to do an investigation into what happened because of the severity of the consequences. This is probably a good thing, but it is somewhat anxiety provoking. I don't want the carer who prepared the fated meal to become a scape-goat for the inadequacies of the system, and I don't want to be faced with negative attitudes myself when I eventually get home and have the carers back. I don't particularly want the same care agency to resume my care, because I think it might be quite difficult and ... well, can I trust that the same mistake won't be made again? Perhaps it'll mean greater vigilence by the carers when preparing my meals, but not necessarily. I don't know what the answer is. Anyway, the main thing is this protection of vulnerable adults high risk assessment investigation that's going on. A social worker conducting the investigation spoke to the staff on ITU when I was there, and they've also spoken to W to ask for her account of events. They were in contact with the ward here last week asking if they could come and interview me 'at some point in the next day or two', which I presumed to mean they'd come last week, but nobody came. The ward sister contacted Social Services about it yesterday and apparently they still plan to come and interview me, but didn't say when it'd be. In the meantime they sent up one of the hospital social workers to ask a few of the questions they had, although she also said that the investigating social worker would definitely be coming to interview me along with someone from the care agency! It's hanging over me now, causing me stress. I'm trying not to think about it, but it's difficult. It seems like a huge thing to be going on, and totally out of my control. Of course I can see that it needs to be done, after all the event nearly cost me my life, but I don't have much in the way of resources to cope with the enormity of it ... and as I say, I don't want the carer involved to be scape-goated. The agency are contracted to provide a particular service for me so they should be able to provide staff with adequate training and skills to provide that service. The fact is that they don't, so it's the system that's really at fault, not the individual. I just don't know what's going to happen or what attitude I'm going to presented with when I'm interviewed.
Sometimes life gets on top of me. Now is one of those times.
Monday, 25 April 2011
Something I could do without
When I got the news about Nn I felt as though I couldn't cope with the stress of my stupid carers coming so I cancelled them for two weeks. It seems incredibly ridiculous that the people who are supposed to be helping me are actually causing more stress, but they are. Today was their first time back here and I was dreading it. I received the time sheet on Saturday so knew who to expect, and was dismayed to see that I'm stuck with the most incompetent of them all for each of this week's visits.
Tonight I wanted Stupid Carer Woman (SCW) to make a pasta sauce. I gave her a recipe. A very easy recipe for a basic tomato sauce with the addition of mushrooms and fresh basil, reminding her that both these ingredients would need to be very well washed because of the stuff that gets sprayed on them and to which I'm allergic. Fine. Left her to it while I finished off what I was doing on the computer, until she called me back asking if 'saute the onions' means to slice them. Feeling despair begin to spread over me I explained what 'saute' means, and went through the rest of the recipe for any more difficult words ... such as 'cook'!
I went off to have my bath, afterwards coming back through to find that what SCW had made actually looked okay. A huge surprise. I had my dinner about an hour ago, and was equally surprised that it tasted okay ... not fantastic, and it had a bit of weird after-taste, but okay. However, I'm now very itchy scratchy, rather wheezy, and my insides feel squiffy. I suspect that SCW didn't wash the mushrooms and basil very well, because this feels very much like an allergic reaction to something, and I haven't eaten anything else that I could be allergic to. I'm hoping beyond hope that this doesn't progress into anaphylaxis, but either way, this is something I really could do without.
Tonight I wanted Stupid Carer Woman (SCW) to make a pasta sauce. I gave her a recipe. A very easy recipe for a basic tomato sauce with the addition of mushrooms and fresh basil, reminding her that both these ingredients would need to be very well washed because of the stuff that gets sprayed on them and to which I'm allergic. Fine. Left her to it while I finished off what I was doing on the computer, until she called me back asking if 'saute the onions' means to slice them. Feeling despair begin to spread over me I explained what 'saute' means, and went through the rest of the recipe for any more difficult words ... such as 'cook'!
I went off to have my bath, afterwards coming back through to find that what SCW had made actually looked okay. A huge surprise. I had my dinner about an hour ago, and was equally surprised that it tasted okay ... not fantastic, and it had a bit of weird after-taste, but okay. However, I'm now very itchy scratchy, rather wheezy, and my insides feel squiffy. I suspect that SCW didn't wash the mushrooms and basil very well, because this feels very much like an allergic reaction to something, and I haven't eaten anything else that I could be allergic to. I'm hoping beyond hope that this doesn't progress into anaphylaxis, but either way, this is something I really could do without.
Friday, 4 February 2011
Master Chef meets Krypton Factor
You may know that I have a lot of allergies, most of which are anaphylactic, and many of which are to foods. The main things I'm allergic to are preservatives and colourings, and you'd be surprised at what you'd find these in, even in so-called healthy foods. One of the consequences of these allergies is that I can't eat any ready meals so I have to have all my food cooked from scratched. Yes, real cooking! I quite enjoy cooking, but I'm very limited these days in how much I can do because of my tendency to pass out when standing due to the POTS and vasovagal syncope. It's not very safe to faint whilst standing over a lit gas hob so these days I have carers come to cook for me three evenings a week. It can be a bit tying sometimes if I have things to do, or I want to be out, or if they turn up early, and I've never been the best at planning meals ahead so sometimes I get a little frustrated at having to be organised with this kind of thing. It's made a little trickier by the fact that they come at 4.30pm, which is far too early to have dinner so I need to think of things that I can either re-heat quickly later on or that take a long time to cook. Last year W bought me a slow cooker and that's been a god-send with these carers as they can do all the cooking bits then set the slow cooker away to do its stuff so that a few hours later I can have tea at a much more sensible time. Marvellous. All I need do is provide the recipe and ingredients...
It would, however, seem that cooking is an alien concept to many of the carers who come to me and the tasks I lay before them are akin to those on the Krypton Factor. Now it's not like I ask for anything particularly complicated - in fact that's another challenge for me as I have to try to find simple recipes - except that the mere thought of cooking anything other than a ready meal or heating up a takeaway appears to be very complicated. I have several different carers come to cook for me and I only really have confidence in one of them. They're all lovely people, yes, but you wouldn't find them on Master Chef. I had one who, on her first visit here, told me that her father is a chef so I optimistically thought that he may have passed on some of his culinary skills to her. Nope. She had to ask me how to cut the leek I'd put out with the ingredients for my dinner. On one of the days the following week a very sweet young carer (maybe in her late teens or very early twenties) came. She pointed at the pile of ingredients on the bench, made her face Dali-esque and squawked, 'What's that?!' It was a sweet potato. The day she came and I had a raw beetroot I'd been given on the bench I thought she was going to run away in fear so I had to reassure her very quickly that it wasn't part of that night's dinner; it was just on the bench as a place to put it. I then had to explain that it was a fresh beetroot, and no, not all beetroot comes pickled in jars. Bless her ... and God help me!
I guess I don't mind so much if the person who comes is honest about their cooking ability. I can allow for inexperience. I can prepare myself for perhaps not the tastiest meal I've ever had. So long as they make sure all the veg etc is suitably washed so that they don't accidentally kill me then I can pretty much let them off. It's when they're 'misleading' about their culinary skills that it gets me. I had one woman come - another friendly character - who, when I explained about my allergies and therefore the need to do 'from scratch' cooking, assured me that she was a good cook. She told me that she'd been married to a Morrocan man for seven years so had cooked all his meals from the raw ingredients and was quite experienced. After tasting the soup she made me I wonder if she's still married to the Moroccan man or if in fact he's dead. I set her the challenge of making me butternut squash and carrot soup with a little ginger and chilli. As always I'd set out the ingredients on the bench. As always I presumed she'd follow the recipe in terms of quantities, and I even provided scales for weighing out any ingredients she needed to weigh. I went off to have my bath (the heat of a bath or shower makes passing out more likely so I have a bath while the carer's around in case there are any problems) and left her to make the soup. When I returned to the kitchen I discovered that she hadn't actually fried the onions, garlic, ginger, chili, or any of the veg before adding the stock (homemade stock as I can't have the bought stuff); she'd simply chopped it all up, put it in the enormous pan, and filled said pan with all of the stock I had. And it was only after she'd left that I realised she had no discernment at all regarding quantities. She had used a whole green chili, a whole root of ginger, and a whole bulb of garlic! I let the thing, the concoction, the pot of poison bubble away in the hope that maybe it wouldn't be so bad really, but after I'd blitzed it in the liquidiser and tasted the tiniest of tiny amounts there was no fooling myself into thinking that this was edible. It had somehow transformed itself from appetising and tasty fresh vegetables to some kind of anti-food. I think I had boiled egg that night instead. The next time she turned up I lied that I was going to my dad's for dinner that night, but I still needed her there while I had a bath. I don't remember what I ended up doing for tea in the end, but I couldn't face sampling her cooking again, that was for sure. On the bright side, as she wasn't cooking for me that evening she offered to do other stuff so she did my ironing. The carer who comes on a Wednesday morning is supposed to do my ironing as well as the cleaning, but the one I've had most since my regular Wednesday carer left the agency is rubbish at ironing, doesn't like doing it, complains all the time she is doing it, and doesn't do very much of it. Needless to say, there was rather a lot of ironing to do. It all got done and I also didn't have to suffer her cooking. Bonus!
I had yet another carer come tonight. I have to say that she was ever such a lovely person, and she did in the end manage to follow the recipe and produce a very nice dinner in the slow cooker for me. However, I also have to say that it is quite miraculous that she managed to follow the recipe and produce a very nice dinner in the slow cooker for me. When I told her that she'd be cooking from scratch she looked terrified, aghast, distraught. She came clean that she doesn't cook. I told her not to worry as I'd put all the ingredients out along with the recipe, and assured her that a slow cooker is really easy to use. She'd never seen a slow cooker before. She doesn't even use a conventional cooker. She lives off sandwiches. This was going to be a challenge ... for us both. Right then, time for some education. I introduced her to the concepts of fresh vegetables, cartons of butter beans, and uncooked wholegrain rice. I gave her her first sighting of saffron, and explained that she should use only a very tiny amount as it's so blooming expensive. That scared her. I got her a pan and showed her how to light the hob. I showed her the recipe book. I thought she was going to collapse with repressed hysteria. 'Oh,' she squeaked through tightened vocal chords, 'I've never used a recipe before. I'm not sure that I can. I mean, I'll try, but I'm scared. I've never done it before. It looks so complicated.' We read through the recipe together, and I explained that yes, she would have to use the hob a little bit to brown the leeks ... and I explained what 'browning the leeks' meant, and I reassured her that she'd be fine, and I went off to hide in the bath. After a while I could hear a lot of clattering and I could smell burning, but I figured that being in the bath surrounded by water was perhaps the safest place to be if the carer was going to accidentally set fire to the flat, so I stayed put and hoped I'd still have a kitchen by the time I plucked up the courage to get out of the bath and back to the carer. Thankfully I do still have a kitchen, and despite the burning smell I see no evidence of there having been any flames. When I reappeared though she did say that she hadn't washed the butter beans, and asked how she was meant to do that so I said to use either the sieve or the colander. She looked at me blankly. I showed her what a sieve looks like.
It would, however, seem that cooking is an alien concept to many of the carers who come to me and the tasks I lay before them are akin to those on the Krypton Factor. Now it's not like I ask for anything particularly complicated - in fact that's another challenge for me as I have to try to find simple recipes - except that the mere thought of cooking anything other than a ready meal or heating up a takeaway appears to be very complicated. I have several different carers come to cook for me and I only really have confidence in one of them. They're all lovely people, yes, but you wouldn't find them on Master Chef. I had one who, on her first visit here, told me that her father is a chef so I optimistically thought that he may have passed on some of his culinary skills to her. Nope. She had to ask me how to cut the leek I'd put out with the ingredients for my dinner. On one of the days the following week a very sweet young carer (maybe in her late teens or very early twenties) came. She pointed at the pile of ingredients on the bench, made her face Dali-esque and squawked, 'What's that?!' It was a sweet potato. The day she came and I had a raw beetroot I'd been given on the bench I thought she was going to run away in fear so I had to reassure her very quickly that it wasn't part of that night's dinner; it was just on the bench as a place to put it. I then had to explain that it was a fresh beetroot, and no, not all beetroot comes pickled in jars. Bless her ... and God help me!
I guess I don't mind so much if the person who comes is honest about their cooking ability. I can allow for inexperience. I can prepare myself for perhaps not the tastiest meal I've ever had. So long as they make sure all the veg etc is suitably washed so that they don't accidentally kill me then I can pretty much let them off. It's when they're 'misleading' about their culinary skills that it gets me. I had one woman come - another friendly character - who, when I explained about my allergies and therefore the need to do 'from scratch' cooking, assured me that she was a good cook. She told me that she'd been married to a Morrocan man for seven years so had cooked all his meals from the raw ingredients and was quite experienced. After tasting the soup she made me I wonder if she's still married to the Moroccan man or if in fact he's dead. I set her the challenge of making me butternut squash and carrot soup with a little ginger and chilli. As always I'd set out the ingredients on the bench. As always I presumed she'd follow the recipe in terms of quantities, and I even provided scales for weighing out any ingredients she needed to weigh. I went off to have my bath (the heat of a bath or shower makes passing out more likely so I have a bath while the carer's around in case there are any problems) and left her to make the soup. When I returned to the kitchen I discovered that she hadn't actually fried the onions, garlic, ginger, chili, or any of the veg before adding the stock (homemade stock as I can't have the bought stuff); she'd simply chopped it all up, put it in the enormous pan, and filled said pan with all of the stock I had. And it was only after she'd left that I realised she had no discernment at all regarding quantities. She had used a whole green chili, a whole root of ginger, and a whole bulb of garlic! I let the thing, the concoction, the pot of poison bubble away in the hope that maybe it wouldn't be so bad really, but after I'd blitzed it in the liquidiser and tasted the tiniest of tiny amounts there was no fooling myself into thinking that this was edible. It had somehow transformed itself from appetising and tasty fresh vegetables to some kind of anti-food. I think I had boiled egg that night instead. The next time she turned up I lied that I was going to my dad's for dinner that night, but I still needed her there while I had a bath. I don't remember what I ended up doing for tea in the end, but I couldn't face sampling her cooking again, that was for sure. On the bright side, as she wasn't cooking for me that evening she offered to do other stuff so she did my ironing. The carer who comes on a Wednesday morning is supposed to do my ironing as well as the cleaning, but the one I've had most since my regular Wednesday carer left the agency is rubbish at ironing, doesn't like doing it, complains all the time she is doing it, and doesn't do very much of it. Needless to say, there was rather a lot of ironing to do. It all got done and I also didn't have to suffer her cooking. Bonus!
I had yet another carer come tonight. I have to say that she was ever such a lovely person, and she did in the end manage to follow the recipe and produce a very nice dinner in the slow cooker for me. However, I also have to say that it is quite miraculous that she managed to follow the recipe and produce a very nice dinner in the slow cooker for me. When I told her that she'd be cooking from scratch she looked terrified, aghast, distraught. She came clean that she doesn't cook. I told her not to worry as I'd put all the ingredients out along with the recipe, and assured her that a slow cooker is really easy to use. She'd never seen a slow cooker before. She doesn't even use a conventional cooker. She lives off sandwiches. This was going to be a challenge ... for us both. Right then, time for some education. I introduced her to the concepts of fresh vegetables, cartons of butter beans, and uncooked wholegrain rice. I gave her her first sighting of saffron, and explained that she should use only a very tiny amount as it's so blooming expensive. That scared her. I got her a pan and showed her how to light the hob. I showed her the recipe book. I thought she was going to collapse with repressed hysteria. 'Oh,' she squeaked through tightened vocal chords, 'I've never used a recipe before. I'm not sure that I can. I mean, I'll try, but I'm scared. I've never done it before. It looks so complicated.' We read through the recipe together, and I explained that yes, she would have to use the hob a little bit to brown the leeks ... and I explained what 'browning the leeks' meant, and I reassured her that she'd be fine, and I went off to hide in the bath. After a while I could hear a lot of clattering and I could smell burning, but I figured that being in the bath surrounded by water was perhaps the safest place to be if the carer was going to accidentally set fire to the flat, so I stayed put and hoped I'd still have a kitchen by the time I plucked up the courage to get out of the bath and back to the carer. Thankfully I do still have a kitchen, and despite the burning smell I see no evidence of there having been any flames. When I reappeared though she did say that she hadn't washed the butter beans, and asked how she was meant to do that so I said to use either the sieve or the colander. She looked at me blankly. I showed her what a sieve looks like.
Sunday, 26 December 2010
Sticky and slippy
Way back in the mist of time, before the first Ice Age... Oh okay then, it wasn't all that long ago, and it wasn't the Ice Age as such, it was a month or so ago, and before the first lot of very cold weather this winter, but you get the picture - it seems like ages ago, and it seems as though this snowiness and iciness has been going on forever. Anyway, what was I saying? Yeah, right, well, I made crab apple jelly! Not only that, but I used the crab apples from the crab apple tree in my front garden (aka little patch of mud). And not only that, but it's a crab apple tree that I planted myself a few years back, and it had been a scrappy little thing I'd bought from the 'almost discarded' section of the garden centre. So the process began with the picking of the apples. I took the washing up bowl out to put them in, but there was so much fruit that there was still a fair amount left on the tree even after filling the washing up bowl with the little apples! The recipe was for 4lbs of fruit. I had 13lbs!
I was surprised at how mucky my hands were after picking the fruit as I don't put anything like pesticides or fungicides on the tree, so it must all have been 'natural' dirt and probably car fumes from the traffic on the relatively major road nearby. Needless to say, I decided that the fruit needed a very thorough clean before I started following Mrs Beeton's recipe for crab apple jelly, but once it was washed (and soaped!) and as clean as could be I divided the fruit up into portions of the correct weight for the recipe, and soon saw that I was going to be doing several batches of it. So here's a pic of one batch of the fruit:
Next came the cutting of the tiny apples, and throwing them in a pan with the water and spices:
And boiling them up until they were soft:
Now, unfortunately, Mrs Beeton isn't too descriptive in her instructions for when the loveliness is ready to be put into jars, and just says it's ready 'when it sets quickly on a cold plate.' That's all very well, but what is the definition of quickly? I dunno. I still don't know, but I decided 30 seconds to a minute was probably about right, so after much testing I eventually got bored and decided it was ready. I ladelled it into jars, managing to get a fair bit of stickiness on the benches and around the kitchen, and most definitely over all the jars, some of which are still sticky despite the many wiping downs they've had. And after several repetitions of the whole process this was the product of my labour:
I was surprised at how mucky my hands were after picking the fruit as I don't put anything like pesticides or fungicides on the tree, so it must all have been 'natural' dirt and probably car fumes from the traffic on the relatively major road nearby. Needless to say, I decided that the fruit needed a very thorough clean before I started following Mrs Beeton's recipe for crab apple jelly, but once it was washed (and soaped!) and as clean as could be I divided the fruit up into portions of the correct weight for the recipe, and soon saw that I was going to be doing several batches of it. So here's a pic of one batch of the fruit:
Next came the cutting of the tiny apples, and throwing them in a pan with the water and spices:
And boiling them up until they were soft:
Then straining them to get all the lovely juiciness that would (hopefully) become the jelly:
And then boiling up, and trying not to burn, those lovely juices to thicken up:
Now, unfortunately, Mrs Beeton isn't too descriptive in her instructions for when the loveliness is ready to be put into jars, and just says it's ready 'when it sets quickly on a cold plate.' That's all very well, but what is the definition of quickly? I dunno. I still don't know, but I decided 30 seconds to a minute was probably about right, so after much testing I eventually got bored and decided it was ready. I ladelled it into jars, managing to get a fair bit of stickiness on the benches and around the kitchen, and most definitely over all the jars, some of which are still sticky despite the many wiping downs they've had. And after several repetitions of the whole process this was the product of my labour: I have to say that I was rather impressed with myself, and more than a little surprised that it had all worked out. Not only that, but when I eventually got around to tasting it I discovered it was rather lovely! It goes amazingly well with a strong cheddar cheese, and it was also quite scrummy with the completely made up lentil loaf thingumy that I made for Christmas lunch with W on 17th December (we had an early Christmas together with lunch and a trip to the panto, which was all great fun). What's more, the jelly doesn't only taste scrummy, but it doesn't dribble all over the plate - it's actually jellified! Of course there was far too much crab apple jelly for me to get through so I've been giving jars of it away, and I brought some up to Edinburgh with me where I've been having Christmas with Mum and J.
I came up to Edinburgh on Thursday. Driving. In the snow. It was quite possibly the scariest drive of my life. For any of you who know the A1 north of Newcastle, you'll know that the vast majority of it is single carriage way. It's also now in a terrible state from the freezing temperatures that have wrecked the tarmac and created huge crevasse-like potholes. It's quite something to negotiate these craters, and I'm sure that they could cause a serious accident if a wheel got caught in them at just the wrong angle. So I was trying to avoid these, but at the same time I was having to concentrate hard as I was periodically engulfed in blizzards of snow that reduced visibility considerably, but which didn't deter some maniac drivers from getting right on my tail. My strategy when this happens is always to slow down. I know this may well frustrate the driver behind me even more, but to be honest, if I'm going to be smashed into I want it to be as low an impact as possible.
Then there was the slush and ice. Various stretches of road had been cleared by snow ploughs, but certainly not all, or by any means most. I followed the tyre tracks from the traffic ahead of me as much as possible, but this didn't stop me from occasionally sliding on the slush, and on three occasions I gently skated onto the other side of the road, unable to do anything about it until my car tyres found a bit of tarmac to grip onto again. Amazingly, each time I slid that far over the raod there wasn't any on-coming traffic so avoided a head-on collision and probable death. The road was generally quite busy - the 23rd December being the busiest day of the year for road traffic, apparently - so it surely was that God was watching over me while I travelled north that meant that on each of my excursions to the wrong side of the road there was nothing coming. The whole journey really was quite terrifying and I was exhausted by the time I got here.
I made it to Edinburgh and to my parents' house, and we have been having a lovely, quiet, gentle Christmas together, with an abundance of food (including some of my crab apple jelly) and an abundance of presents. It's wonderful. Neither my mum nor my step-dad are Christians (Mum's a hybrid of agnostic-atheist, whilst J is a committed atheist), but we did all go to the Nine Lessons and Carols service at St. Mary's Episcopalian Cathedral, where they both enjoyed the music, and I enjoyed the music and the joy of the true meaning of Christmas.
I hope you have all had a lovely Christmas and a peaceful time with family and friends. Happy Christmas, all!
Sunday, 14 November 2010
A quick visit
This is a quick visit to my blog during a quick visit to London. I'm visiting my brother and his family :o) I was supposed to have been at a one-day conference on 'Conflict in Children's Literature' at Roehampton University yesterday, but I knew that I wasn't going to have the energy for that so very reluctantly had to cancel my plans to attend. I'd been looking forward to it for months, but there's no way that I'd have managed with my energy levels as they are at the moment. However, I didn't want to cancel all my plans to come to London and stay with my brother, sister-in-law, and two gorgeous nephews, so that is where I am. It's my brother's 40th birthday on Monday, so we've had a bit of a celebratory day today with present time, and cake with candles at dinner time. My sister-in-law, N, and my older nephew, O, started making the cake yesterday, with the intention of making a car-shaped cake, but not being used to using wholemeal flour (to make the cake Aunty Becky-friendly), N didn't add quite enough liquid in the recipe and it all turned out a bit crumbly. Oops. Undeterred, the remains of the cake were put aside until today, when N and O had a go at adapting the car cake, mixed the crumbs with lots of whipped cream, put the remaining pieces of cake into a rough car-shape on top of the cream/crumb mix, piped freshly whipped cream onto the top to indicate wheels, lights, and windows, and hey presto, a scrummy car cake :o) It didn't taste anything like cars, though ... not that I've ever tried eating a car...
A couple of weeks ago, while I was in hospital, my older nephew, O, had chicken pox while the family were away in France. O is fine now, and it seemed as though my younger nephew, D, had somehow managed to escape catching chicken pox from his big brother. I had a bit of a dilemma before my visit as it could potentially be very dangerous for me to get chicken pox because of being on high dose prednisolone. I wasn't sure whether to risk coming or not, when it seemed that D would most likely get ill, even though he was so far okay. I spoke to a couple of friends who are GPs to ask for advice, and they both said that I should probably postpone my trip south. I was reluctant to do so, though knew that I would if it was really necessary, but first of all I decided to speak to my asthma consultant and see what he thought. I phoned his secretary on Wednesday, but it turned out that Dr H was away on annual leave last week, so explained my situation to the secretary who'd asked if any of the other consultants could help. Just as I was telling her about the chicken pox situation, one of the other consultants I know very well (in fact I've known him since he was a new registrar) came into the office so I spoke to Dr DS, who said that I should be safe enough as I had chicken pox as a child. Hurrah! The trip was on! And anyway, it seemed as though the M, N, O, and D household was chicken pox-free so it was all only precautionary in the first place :oD ... except that when we got up on Saturday morning it appeared that D hadn't escaped the affliction and was definitely a little bit spotty. Today there has been absolutely no doubt about it - he is a spot fest. He's mostly okay in himself, but he's very itchy and that gets him miserable. And now I feel a little, um, er, irresponsible. Perhaps I shouldn't have come. Even though I had reassurance from Dr DS that I ought to be okay, I do wonder if maybe I ought not to have put myself at potential risk :o/ I'm loving being here, and loving seeing all the family - especially the boys :o) - but have I done a stupid thing? I'm not sure. I don't know whether I should contact my GP when I get home or just wait and see if anything happens, which it probably won't, but I definitely don't want it to either. Hmmm. Am I daft? Have I been stupid? I fear the answer maybe yes ... It has been wonderful, though, to see O and D (and M and N too), and I don't want to go home tomorrow.
A couple of weeks ago, while I was in hospital, my older nephew, O, had chicken pox while the family were away in France. O is fine now, and it seemed as though my younger nephew, D, had somehow managed to escape catching chicken pox from his big brother. I had a bit of a dilemma before my visit as it could potentially be very dangerous for me to get chicken pox because of being on high dose prednisolone. I wasn't sure whether to risk coming or not, when it seemed that D would most likely get ill, even though he was so far okay. I spoke to a couple of friends who are GPs to ask for advice, and they both said that I should probably postpone my trip south. I was reluctant to do so, though knew that I would if it was really necessary, but first of all I decided to speak to my asthma consultant and see what he thought. I phoned his secretary on Wednesday, but it turned out that Dr H was away on annual leave last week, so explained my situation to the secretary who'd asked if any of the other consultants could help. Just as I was telling her about the chicken pox situation, one of the other consultants I know very well (in fact I've known him since he was a new registrar) came into the office so I spoke to Dr DS, who said that I should be safe enough as I had chicken pox as a child. Hurrah! The trip was on! And anyway, it seemed as though the M, N, O, and D household was chicken pox-free so it was all only precautionary in the first place :oD ... except that when we got up on Saturday morning it appeared that D hadn't escaped the affliction and was definitely a little bit spotty. Today there has been absolutely no doubt about it - he is a spot fest. He's mostly okay in himself, but he's very itchy and that gets him miserable. And now I feel a little, um, er, irresponsible. Perhaps I shouldn't have come. Even though I had reassurance from Dr DS that I ought to be okay, I do wonder if maybe I ought not to have put myself at potential risk :o/ I'm loving being here, and loving seeing all the family - especially the boys :o) - but have I done a stupid thing? I'm not sure. I don't know whether I should contact my GP when I get home or just wait and see if anything happens, which it probably won't, but I definitely don't want it to either. Hmmm. Am I daft? Have I been stupid? I fear the answer maybe yes ... It has been wonderful, though, to see O and D (and M and N too), and I don't want to go home tomorrow.
Thursday, 16 October 2008
Opening up
We're doing a series of weekly meetings at church at the minute called 'Opened Up'. We've had 5 of the 6 Wednesday evening meetings so far, which are getting us to look both as individuals and as a church how we can open up - where we're up to at the moment, how we imagine things ought to be, where we might like to go, etc. As I say, it's not just thinking about these things on an individual basis, but more to do with looking at the church, our church, the community around us and opening up to them. I haven't been able to get to them all, but I've got a lot out of the ones I have been to and I'm looking forward to seeing what happens as a result.
Part of the structure of the 'Opened Up' evenings is that all those who come have a meal together before the meeting gets under way. The catering is being done by a cafe near church called Cafe Bar One, and where I've been before but only been able to have jacket potato with cottage cheese to eat. Cafe Bar One know of my allergies, but haven't really known what they are so for the first couple of weeks of the 'Opened Up' evenings they gave me what they knew I could have. It was great to be provided for, but I was feeling a little miffed that I'd only get a jacket potato on a Wednesday night when everyone else around me got very yummy-looking food. Well, a couple of weeks into the series I had a call from Jez - the chef at Cafe Bar One - who said that he'd really like to be able to make more for me for the church evening meetings than he had been doing. He asked if I could take him a copy of the list of foods I can't have and he'd work something out from that. I wasn't expecting that, but was extremely pleased and so took my list down the next day, although I have to say that I wasn't certain Jez would still feel like trying to make me something more exciting than a jacket potato after he'd seen the 6 page document that is my dietary requirement list. When I took the list down to the cafe Jez wasn't/didn't seem to be terrified by it, but rather said that he was interested and excited. I left my phone number with him and said that he could call me if he had any questions or wasn't certain about anything he could or couldn't use, and then left him to it whilst expecting to receive a call from him during the week. I didn't get a call. However, the following Wednesday I did get a delicious meal of Tuscan bean casserole :o) Jez hung around before the meal and meeting until I came so that he could go through with me everything that was in it, and then waiting for a little while afterwards to make sure that I didn't have any immediate reaction. I didn't. I didn't have any reaction other than, 'Oh my word, this is delicious!' :o) Jez then said that if all went okay then he'd make up some things that are Becky-friendly and that could be easily frozen and defrosted so that I can have some yummy things to eat in the cafe and don't always have to have jacket potato with cottage cheese! WOW! My world is opening up as a direct result of the 'Opened Up' evenings. Okay, so it's not exactly what the vicar had in mind when he planned this series, but this is such a positive thing for me, because I've been so desperately limited in where I can eat out. Peppy's is fantastic, but it's good to have a cafe I can go to as well as a restaurant, especially one that my friends and I sometimes go to after church :o) Hurray for Cafe Bar One!!!
I think it can be difficult for people to comprehend the impact that true food allergies can have on one's life. So much socialising is done around food that actually, when you factor in the complication of an allergy (let alone many, many allergies), you find that social occasions can begin to get limited ... that life gets restricted. It's fine if those around you are comfortable with cooking for you, and if you are confident in the scrupulous care they need to have taken to avoid accidentally killing you, but on the whole restaurants and cafes etc aren't willing to take that risk (and unless I've spoken to the chef at length and I'm confident they have full understanding, then I'm not willing to take the risk either). I think a lot of the reluctance/straight refusal from restaurants etc to cook for me isn't actually a concern for me, but a fear that if anything did go wrong then they'd be sued. I'm not that kind of person, but I guess they don't know that ... and it wouldn't be good publicity to have it in the news that one of your customers unfortunately blew up, stopped breathing and died.
Perhaps I'll do a post sometime with more specific details of my allergies, so that you have a fuller understanding of the difficulties they impose. On a day-to-day basis I'm used to it all now, though I do have to stay on my guard even with products I've known to be safe in the past, because manufacturers have a habit of changing their recipes without advertising the fact.
Anyway, for the time being I'm sending out huge praise to Cafe Bar One, and I'm delighted that my world is opening up that little bit more.
:o)
Part of the structure of the 'Opened Up' evenings is that all those who come have a meal together before the meeting gets under way. The catering is being done by a cafe near church called Cafe Bar One, and where I've been before but only been able to have jacket potato with cottage cheese to eat. Cafe Bar One know of my allergies, but haven't really known what they are so for the first couple of weeks of the 'Opened Up' evenings they gave me what they knew I could have. It was great to be provided for, but I was feeling a little miffed that I'd only get a jacket potato on a Wednesday night when everyone else around me got very yummy-looking food. Well, a couple of weeks into the series I had a call from Jez - the chef at Cafe Bar One - who said that he'd really like to be able to make more for me for the church evening meetings than he had been doing. He asked if I could take him a copy of the list of foods I can't have and he'd work something out from that. I wasn't expecting that, but was extremely pleased and so took my list down the next day, although I have to say that I wasn't certain Jez would still feel like trying to make me something more exciting than a jacket potato after he'd seen the 6 page document that is my dietary requirement list. When I took the list down to the cafe Jez wasn't/didn't seem to be terrified by it, but rather said that he was interested and excited. I left my phone number with him and said that he could call me if he had any questions or wasn't certain about anything he could or couldn't use, and then left him to it whilst expecting to receive a call from him during the week. I didn't get a call. However, the following Wednesday I did get a delicious meal of Tuscan bean casserole :o) Jez hung around before the meal and meeting until I came so that he could go through with me everything that was in it, and then waiting for a little while afterwards to make sure that I didn't have any immediate reaction. I didn't. I didn't have any reaction other than, 'Oh my word, this is delicious!' :o) Jez then said that if all went okay then he'd make up some things that are Becky-friendly and that could be easily frozen and defrosted so that I can have some yummy things to eat in the cafe and don't always have to have jacket potato with cottage cheese! WOW! My world is opening up as a direct result of the 'Opened Up' evenings. Okay, so it's not exactly what the vicar had in mind when he planned this series, but this is such a positive thing for me, because I've been so desperately limited in where I can eat out. Peppy's is fantastic, but it's good to have a cafe I can go to as well as a restaurant, especially one that my friends and I sometimes go to after church :o) Hurray for Cafe Bar One!!!
I think it can be difficult for people to comprehend the impact that true food allergies can have on one's life. So much socialising is done around food that actually, when you factor in the complication of an allergy (let alone many, many allergies), you find that social occasions can begin to get limited ... that life gets restricted. It's fine if those around you are comfortable with cooking for you, and if you are confident in the scrupulous care they need to have taken to avoid accidentally killing you, but on the whole restaurants and cafes etc aren't willing to take that risk (and unless I've spoken to the chef at length and I'm confident they have full understanding, then I'm not willing to take the risk either). I think a lot of the reluctance/straight refusal from restaurants etc to cook for me isn't actually a concern for me, but a fear that if anything did go wrong then they'd be sued. I'm not that kind of person, but I guess they don't know that ... and it wouldn't be good publicity to have it in the news that one of your customers unfortunately blew up, stopped breathing and died.
Perhaps I'll do a post sometime with more specific details of my allergies, so that you have a fuller understanding of the difficulties they impose. On a day-to-day basis I'm used to it all now, though I do have to stay on my guard even with products I've known to be safe in the past, because manufacturers have a habit of changing their recipes without advertising the fact.
Anyway, for the time being I'm sending out huge praise to Cafe Bar One, and I'm delighted that my world is opening up that little bit more.
:o)
Friday, 29 August 2008
Distraction
I've been sat in front of my computer all day trying to write my latest essay: 'Compare and contrast the represetation of courtship and marriage in Shakespeare's Henry V and Aphra Behn's The Rover.' It's doing my head in. I've done all the background reading and made all my notes/mind maps, and I have actually started to write the essay, but there's so much I want to include that I'm having to be very careful in how I put my ideas down, because I only have 1500 words to say it all in. It's ridiculous. I'm now a little over half way, with something like 820 words done, and I think I've managed to cram in most of what I want to say about Henry V, even if I've had to be quite economical. I'm leaving doing the bit about The Rover until tomorrow, and am now going to find some brain-numbing activity before I try to sleep.
During the course of trying to write my essay I have come across many a distraction, and I thought I'd share some of them with you, particularly as rather a lot of them are only a mouse click away from my essay, and therefore also from whatever you ought to be doing on your computer (other than reading my blog, of course ;oP ). So here are a few distractions for you:
During the course of trying to write my essay I have come across many a distraction, and I thought I'd share some of them with you, particularly as rather a lot of them are only a mouse click away from my essay, and therefore also from whatever you ought to be doing on your computer (other than reading my blog, of course ;oP ). So here are a few distractions for you:
- First off let me point you towards a site that I recently added to the list of 'Blogs I Read' on the left hand panel, but which you might have missed. La Tartine Gourmande is a foodies delight, and also has some rather wonderful photos on it. Take a peek, but eat before you go there or you'll end up being very hungry indeed.
- If you're feeling stressed out and you don't have any bubblewrap to hand then try this site. It's particularly good on 'manic mode', and more satisfying with the sound on than off. Very silly, but it passes away the time.
- If you want to test your lexical knowledge, and also want to do something useful (in this case donating rice to the UN World Food Program) then visit FreeRice. Be warned though, it's very addictive.
- Do you like cartoons? Take a look at Karrie Fransman's short comic strips. You'll probably have seen them if you read The Guardian, but they're fun.
- Once you've done your essay or written that document then how about putting it into Wordle. This nifty little gadget will make a pretty 'word cloud' with the words you've used in your piece, and then you can play with the colours, fonts, layouts etc. Good fun and gives a sense of satisfaction ... or maybe that's just me ;oP
- Maybe watching a slide show of some wonderful photographs is more your thing. If so, then you need go no further than The Royal Photographic Society's Northern Gallery. There's some stunning stuff there, but then you'd expect that from the RPS.
- For another game try Scrabulous. Due to some legal wrangling with the makers of Scrabble, Scrabulous has recently disappeared from FaceBook :o( but all is not lost (yet), because they have their own site where you can go play :o)
That's all the distraction I can give you for now, but feel free to let me know of others by leaving a message in the comments section.
Have fun!
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Easter
It's rather too long since I wrote anything here, but then we have had Easter in the middle of things, and I don't know about you, but mine was quite busy. I have to say that I had a lovely weekend though. I ignored the fact that I had lots of OU work to do and an assignment due in next week (I'll have to stop ignoring that fact now), and instead spent the weekend doing nice things. So it started on Friday with a trip up into Northumberland to visit my dad who had my brother, sister-in-law and nephew staying with him. I haven't seen them since August last year and Oliver (my nephew) is now 15 months old and obviously changed a lot since then. He's such a cheery chap and a delight to be with :o)
After we'd had a bite of lunch we went for a drive along the coast, first of all past Druridge Bay and then along to Amble. At Amble harbour we seemed to decide that it'd be a good idea to get out of the car 'to blow away the cobwebs'. It certainly did that! There was a bitter gale blowing and snow blustering around intermittently. The harbour waters were choppy and looked like something from a nineteenth century oil painting, and enormous waves were crashing in ten foot or more sprays over the harbour wall.
On our way back towards the village where my dad lives we stopped at the headland just opposite Coquet Island. I'm not sure how as it appeared to be more sheltered than Amble harbour, but the wind seemed even more powerful, making it difficult to stay standing at times. We didn't venture down onto the beach, but even with staying on the grassy dunes we managed to get wet with 'globs' of foam being thrown from the waves. It was amazingly dramatic, but absolutely freezing so we didn't hang around too long and went back to the cosy, warm house for a cuppa. I then came home and dashed off to church for the Good Friday evening service, which was wonderfully reflective and restored some calm into my windswept head.
Saturday (late) morning was spent with my friend K shopping for food for the following day as we were having Easter Sunday together with another friend, R. Having got what we needed and having taken it back to K's I then wombled back home to pretend to study while K went to the theatre and out for dinner afterwards. I'd said to K that if she wanted to prepare any of the food for Sunday then I'd be quite happy to come round again, and sure enough, around 10pm I had a phone call asking me if I wanted to go and make soup ... so I did. At 1am we'd finished making the butternut squash, ginger, orange and corriander soup and realised it was Easter Sunday so celebrated with a mouthful of chocolate - one of the best ways to celebrate Easter :o)
The Easter service on Sunday morning was lovely - really joyful :o) And afterwards K, R and I went off to K's to make the vegetable hotpot bake we were having for lunch. It's always fun cooking with friends and it makes a refreshing change to be cooking for more than one as well, which makes it feel more ... worth it. I think it's safe to say that we all enjoyed our lunch, which was nicely rounded off with chocolate mousse cake with strawberries and raspberries and yogurt or ice-cream. Just as we were finishing that we were joined by another couple of friends - C and A - for an afternoon of game playing. I love playing games - always have done - and it's great to have friends who also enjoy it and organise times to play them. It was all good fun and of course, being Easter, was highlighted with chocolate :o) After that we all trundled over to church again for the evening service where K and C were playing in the music group and I was giving a testimonial. I was incredibly nervous about doing this, although it'd been planned for several weeks, and I'd been worrying about it quietly for most of the day ... and the day before. However, it all went fairly well in the end :o) Once the service was over we stayed for a cuppa and then all went back to K's again, with yet another friend, CM, to chat and make chocolate shapes. A had brought a special chocolate melting kit with moulds, so we had fun melting down Green & Blacks chocolate into gloop, pouring it carefully (or not so carefully at times in my case) into the little moulds and resolidifying it in the freezer and fridge. We were all a bit chocolated out by this time though so didn't eat very much of it, instead opting to come home with little parcels of chocolate shapes, some of which I still have in my fridge. I think I got home around 1am, but I'd had a really lovely day.
The long weekend was rounded off with another trip up to Northumberland on Monday to see my dad, brother, sister-in-law and nephew again, although I didn't get up there till early evening as I went over to the new vicarage to 'help' strip wallpaper. My lungs didn't like that very much though so I didn't hang around long. I arrived at Dad's in time to help give Ollie his dinner and then his bath. He loves baths and it was a very giggley affair with lots of fun and not too much water escaping from the bath itself :o) Bath time is obviously followed by bedtime when you're 15 months old, so I stayed around for Oliver's story and gave him a cuddle while he had his song. It was lovely. Then it was adult time - dinner time and chat, which again was really lovely and very relaxed. Dad asked if I wanted to stay the night, which would've been nice, but as I didn't have all my meds with me I wasn't able to, so sometime around 11pm I set off home in the snow.
Yes, all in all it was a very enjoyable, relaxed, fun-filled, friendship-filled weekend :o) A good Easter :o)
After we'd had a bite of lunch we went for a drive along the coast, first of all past Druridge Bay and then along to Amble. At Amble harbour we seemed to decide that it'd be a good idea to get out of the car 'to blow away the cobwebs'. It certainly did that! There was a bitter gale blowing and snow blustering around intermittently. The harbour waters were choppy and looked like something from a nineteenth century oil painting, and enormous waves were crashing in ten foot or more sprays over the harbour wall.
On our way back towards the village where my dad lives we stopped at the headland just opposite Coquet Island. I'm not sure how as it appeared to be more sheltered than Amble harbour, but the wind seemed even more powerful, making it difficult to stay standing at times. We didn't venture down onto the beach, but even with staying on the grassy dunes we managed to get wet with 'globs' of foam being thrown from the waves. It was amazingly dramatic, but absolutely freezing so we didn't hang around too long and went back to the cosy, warm house for a cuppa. I then came home and dashed off to church for the Good Friday evening service, which was wonderfully reflective and restored some calm into my windswept head.
Saturday (late) morning was spent with my friend K shopping for food for the following day as we were having Easter Sunday together with another friend, R. Having got what we needed and having taken it back to K's I then wombled back home to pretend to study while K went to the theatre and out for dinner afterwards. I'd said to K that if she wanted to prepare any of the food for Sunday then I'd be quite happy to come round again, and sure enough, around 10pm I had a phone call asking me if I wanted to go and make soup ... so I did. At 1am we'd finished making the butternut squash, ginger, orange and corriander soup and realised it was Easter Sunday so celebrated with a mouthful of chocolate - one of the best ways to celebrate Easter :o)
The Easter service on Sunday morning was lovely - really joyful :o) And afterwards K, R and I went off to K's to make the vegetable hotpot bake we were having for lunch. It's always fun cooking with friends and it makes a refreshing change to be cooking for more than one as well, which makes it feel more ... worth it. I think it's safe to say that we all enjoyed our lunch, which was nicely rounded off with chocolate mousse cake with strawberries and raspberries and yogurt or ice-cream. Just as we were finishing that we were joined by another couple of friends - C and A - for an afternoon of game playing. I love playing games - always have done - and it's great to have friends who also enjoy it and organise times to play them. It was all good fun and of course, being Easter, was highlighted with chocolate :o) After that we all trundled over to church again for the evening service where K and C were playing in the music group and I was giving a testimonial. I was incredibly nervous about doing this, although it'd been planned for several weeks, and I'd been worrying about it quietly for most of the day ... and the day before. However, it all went fairly well in the end :o) Once the service was over we stayed for a cuppa and then all went back to K's again, with yet another friend, CM, to chat and make chocolate shapes. A had brought a special chocolate melting kit with moulds, so we had fun melting down Green & Blacks chocolate into gloop, pouring it carefully (or not so carefully at times in my case) into the little moulds and resolidifying it in the freezer and fridge. We were all a bit chocolated out by this time though so didn't eat very much of it, instead opting to come home with little parcels of chocolate shapes, some of which I still have in my fridge. I think I got home around 1am, but I'd had a really lovely day.
The long weekend was rounded off with another trip up to Northumberland on Monday to see my dad, brother, sister-in-law and nephew again, although I didn't get up there till early evening as I went over to the new vicarage to 'help' strip wallpaper. My lungs didn't like that very much though so I didn't hang around long. I arrived at Dad's in time to help give Ollie his dinner and then his bath. He loves baths and it was a very giggley affair with lots of fun and not too much water escaping from the bath itself :o) Bath time is obviously followed by bedtime when you're 15 months old, so I stayed around for Oliver's story and gave him a cuddle while he had his song. It was lovely. Then it was adult time - dinner time and chat, which again was really lovely and very relaxed. Dad asked if I wanted to stay the night, which would've been nice, but as I didn't have all my meds with me I wasn't able to, so sometime around 11pm I set off home in the snow.
Yes, all in all it was a very enjoyable, relaxed, fun-filled, friendship-filled weekend :o) A good Easter :o)
Tuesday, 4 March 2008
Sticky
My kitchen is a very sticky mess as I've had my first attempt at making marmalade!
I know Seville oranges are seasonal, and only usually around in January and February, but you still hardly ever see them in the shops. Well I saw some recently and bought them with the intention of making marmalade ... and then realised that I didn't know how to do this. Quite by chance, when I was in Borders Books last week I happened to pass one of the tables in the middle of the store that had 'Mrs Beaton's Jams, Pickles and Preserves' book for sale at £2.99. It, obviously being a book on how to make jams etc, has several recipes for marmalade, so I chose one that looked pretty simple, which goes as follows:
12 Seville oranges
2 Lemons
Preserving sugar
Slice the fruit thinly, removing inner pith and pips. Weigh it, and to each 450g/1 lb add 3 pints of cold water. Leave, covered, in a bowl for 3 days, then turn the preparation into a preserving-pan and boil gently until quite tender. Let it cool, weigh again, and to each 450g/1 lb of fruit add 450g /1 lb of sugar. Bring to boiling-point, skim well, and cook gently until the syrup stiffens quickly when tested on a cold plate. Turn into pots, cover and store in a cool, dry place.
Marvellous ... but when you come to do it you realise that it's not actually terribly instructive. I mean, I sliced the fruit thinly, as described, but didn't at this time cut it into tiny marmalade-sized pieces, and then realised that it doesn't say to do this at any point, so I was left wondering when/if I should do this. In the end I did it during that first period of boiling it up. But again, there is no mention in the instructions of how long this should take, or, indeed, the second period of boiling. Rather a lot of guesswork was involved, but I have to say that I'm rather impressed with the result, especially given how much of it I blagged my way through. I wasn't at all sure that I'd let it boil enough on it's second round so didn't know if it was going to set or be a new easy-pour variety of marmalade, but it seems to have stuck itself together well and it even tastes like marmalade! I'm rather impressed and I have to say, quite proud of myself :o)
Despite this new culinery success I doubt that I can truly call myself a domestic goddess as the kitchen is ever so sticky The floor has that special go-slow feature; the work tops have gained a particular 'sheen' to them; and even the lower units have managed to get themselves dribbled down and one of the cupboards now seems particularly attached to the draw above it, despite repeated wiping down. I'm wondering if I am to have a marmalade-clad kitchen forever more.
I know Seville oranges are seasonal, and only usually around in January and February, but you still hardly ever see them in the shops. Well I saw some recently and bought them with the intention of making marmalade ... and then realised that I didn't know how to do this. Quite by chance, when I was in Borders Books last week I happened to pass one of the tables in the middle of the store that had 'Mrs Beaton's Jams, Pickles and Preserves' book for sale at £2.99. It, obviously being a book on how to make jams etc, has several recipes for marmalade, so I chose one that looked pretty simple, which goes as follows:
12 Seville oranges
2 Lemons
Preserving sugar
Slice the fruit thinly, removing inner pith and pips. Weigh it, and to each 450g/1 lb add 3 pints of cold water. Leave, covered, in a bowl for 3 days, then turn the preparation into a preserving-pan and boil gently until quite tender. Let it cool, weigh again, and to each 450g/1 lb of fruit add 450g /1 lb of sugar. Bring to boiling-point, skim well, and cook gently until the syrup stiffens quickly when tested on a cold plate. Turn into pots, cover and store in a cool, dry place.
Marvellous ... but when you come to do it you realise that it's not actually terribly instructive. I mean, I sliced the fruit thinly, as described, but didn't at this time cut it into tiny marmalade-sized pieces, and then realised that it doesn't say to do this at any point, so I was left wondering when/if I should do this. In the end I did it during that first period of boiling it up. But again, there is no mention in the instructions of how long this should take, or, indeed, the second period of boiling. Rather a lot of guesswork was involved, but I have to say that I'm rather impressed with the result, especially given how much of it I blagged my way through. I wasn't at all sure that I'd let it boil enough on it's second round so didn't know if it was going to set or be a new easy-pour variety of marmalade, but it seems to have stuck itself together well and it even tastes like marmalade! I'm rather impressed and I have to say, quite proud of myself :o)
Despite this new culinery success I doubt that I can truly call myself a domestic goddess as the kitchen is ever so sticky The floor has that special go-slow feature; the work tops have gained a particular 'sheen' to them; and even the lower units have managed to get themselves dribbled down and one of the cupboards now seems particularly attached to the draw above it, despite repeated wiping down. I'm wondering if I am to have a marmalade-clad kitchen forever more.
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