I knew it was a mistake

to buy Maltesers AT ALL.

Let alone 'fun sized'.  I bought them as a treat snack for Oliver.  Pah.  Within an hour I had eaten seven bags of them.  Last night I went out and bought a whole new lot to replace them and promptly ate another four bags.  Bloody hell.  I am never buying them again.  (but I will accept large boxes for Birthdays and Christmas). They are the crack cocaine of the chocolate world.

Well, here we are again.

We have enjoyed three weeks of high days and holidays, starting with a week in Ibiza at the beginning of the month.  This was a real bargain holiday, coming in at £886 for the three of us, all inclusive, flying from our local airport, three miles up the road.  Me likey muchly.

It was a lovely break - the weather held and it was wonderful to guzzle, stuff and read books by the pool.  Oliver took an active part in the Kid's Club for the first time and found he enjoyed tripping off to take part in various activities throughout the day.  It gave him a bit of freedom from us and he actually likes meeting people and making friends.  Unlike his parents who sit in a corner with their sunglasses on shunning all social interaction. 

I am not exaggerating.

Some snappies:

 

 

We came back on a Wednesday and then Friday saw us setting off for Dorset, and our annual break at Warmwell.  Lovely.  Lodges set in woodland - so cosy. 

And finally, and not leastly by any means - a trip to Bath to visit my old school chum.  She isn't old, by the way.  Well, as old as I am and I suppose that is pretty old now....

It was a good crack - haven't seen her for years, but familiarity from days of yore mean that there is no awkwardness and conversation flows as easily as the humour.  I caught the train you know - how grown up am I - and got to see a man taking a piss when he forgot to lock the auto door.  Ha ha.  I had the fastest wee in the world when it was my turn for fear of showing my bum to the gathering crowds in the corridor.

Oh, and I got a big ol' haircut:

Then I put a dye on it.

Honey Blonde.  Allegedly.

Trades Description comes to mind.  The brown has lessened a little and now it is edging back towards a lighter shade. 

There are other bleatings to be bleated, but for now, c'est tout.

Au revour mes petits pois.

Fish Face

I woke up this morning with a sandpapery feeling in my eyes.



this is not my cat

To discover the cat was licking my eyebrows and sockets with fervour.  I screwed up my eyes for fear she should lick off the top two surfaces of my eyeballs and tried to brave it out, as it is truly an honour that a cat should deign to take a break from licking it's own arse to give you a wash and brush up too. 

But the red raw skin and fish odour was too much for me and I took off to the bathroom with my eyes closed, bumping off the walls all the way to find a wet wipe.

Phew.

It has been a long time since my last blog post.  Things have happened, but as they slip into dim and distant memories, it seems less vital to bother to blog about them.  But I will give it a go, as I do find my blog a useful record of 'stuff done'.

In no particular order:

I found that I actually enjoy running after the confessed loathing of competitive athletics which I undertook in my teens.  I have been puffing my way around 2-3 miles since January with very little improvement in pace or fitness, but after slowing my pace down considerably it suddenly dawned on me that I liked pootling along with my own thoughts, and that I could run 4-6 miles with an improvement in both pace and fitness.

To this end I went along with Mark one Saturday to Killerton House to do their weekly Park Run.  This is the first 'race' I have attempted in over 25 years - a real milestone for me as I thought I would NEVER want to do it again.  I came 118th out of 250 ish runners, and was 25th female overall.  Not bad, but am aiming to do better this Saturday.

I found a lump in my breast.

This was a sudden discovery, and a heart-stopping moment.  Thus followed a trip to the Docs and three hospital visits, all within the space of a couple of weeks to discover it was a 'whopping' blood-filled cyst which they showed me on ultrasound before sticking in a needle and sucking it all out.

Flippin eck.

I am so glad it is all done and dusted - grateful to the NHS for their speed and care and fully appreciative of the fact I have been able to walk away from this with a big sense of relief when many others would not have that luxury.

Thank you thank you thank you.

We rejoined the National Trust (again) and had a lovely trip out to Coleton  Fishacre.  I bought a Jazz-age CD and it fills me full of Sunday afternoon melancholy when I listen to it.  Lovely.

 

There is a walk down from the house to the coast - truly wonderful on a good day.

 

Mark and I attended a book signing at Torre Abbey with Sophie Hannah, who has written the new Poirot story - The Monogram Murders.  Having discovered her by accident over the last year and read her avidly, I was thrilled to bits that she was given permission by the Agatha Christie estate to write a new Poirot.  The Agatha die-hards are whining endlessly over the fact that she killed off Poirot in Curtain, but this book just slots neatly into a gap where there were about four years where Poirot did not appear, between 1929 and 1932.

Apparently. 

So there.

I haven't read it yet.  And it cost me £18.99 which I resent enormously.  But there you go.  And I met her and managed a conversation without drying up or stammering, so that's Good.

The new school term has started (is it just me, or did the Summer just pass in a blur this year??) with a vengeance and I have upped Oliver's 'work'.  I am pushing him more this year, as I am hugely conscious of the GSCE factor looming on the horizon and if he does end up wanting to go on to Further Education, I have to be thinking about it now....

OH - MIDORI!!!!!

I sold my Filofax on ebay - for £80, can you believe, so I got myself some leather and notebooks, and made myself this:

It is very me, very satisfyingly chunky and full of the bits I need, and I love it.  Happy days.  I am going to make a 'Traveller size' one, and fill it full of holiday ephemera.

The Tour Of Britain passed through Exeter.  I have NO interest whatsoever in cycling, I find it yawn-tastic to the nth degree, but an event is an event is an event, so we trundled along for a look-see.

It was boring waiting,  and so entertained ourselves with selfies.

 

The event was all over in a matter of minutes, and for me the most exciting part was the volume of police motorcycles whizzing by.

 

That is all.

 

I have a new thang...

...brewing.

Midori notebooks.

I happened across these on you tube when browsing art journaling.  As you may, or may not know, art journaling is a hobby I have on the back burner waiting for an opportune moment to burst forth with stunning creativity. 

Since this depends on the availability of Oliver's bedroom as an office/art room where I visualise my very own desk strewn with arty things, this vision is but an ever decreasing shiny thing on the horizon.  For me to lay claim to Oliver's room, the loft conversion must be finished and have him happily installed in the eaves.  It seems to be a project popped into long term pending and my arty farty ambitions lay dormant.

Back to Midori.

I currently use a Filofax. 

I like the whole bits and pieces in one place idea, I like filling it with post its and lists etc.  However, Midori looks like the sort of thing which is right up my street, as I will be able to make my own inserts and it will be more arty.   I think I will be able to fulfil all my notebook yearnings in one hit, so roll on payday where I am planning to indulge in a little Midori lurve.

image: livingwithlisa.wordpress.com

image: dyrmdaily.com

image: karawheeler.wordpress.com

Will report back.

On the cookery pokery front, I made a fruitcake last week.  Yep, a proper, grown up fruitcake, not just for Christmas.  It was a Tana Ramsay recipe and produced a very moist cake indeed.  I like Tana Ramsay recipes.  Although I have to say I was very disappointed in her when she appeared on Dancing on Ice a few years back - she came across as very dull and I was a bit disillusioned to tell you the truth as I was all set to love her.  Never mind. I try not to dwell on this setback when I cook her lamb mince curry.  Which is quite sublime. 

In the woolly section of my life, I have pressed on with the granny patchwork blanket, having decided to give this to my parents for Christmas.  It's a quick grower, and I am considering knocking out a Christmas red/white/green combo lap blanket for the living room for us.  Mark reminded me that the Christmas blanket I started last Christmas was not yet finished.

Thank you Mark.

Moving swiftly on, work.  I work alternate Sundays on an all day shift retrieving patient notes for emergency admissions.  I like this job - I really do.  On a good day it is satisfying and a bit of a buzz.  On a busy day (most Sundays),  it is stressful and sweaty and a little bit sweary.  I had to step in to another role yesterday, so a colleague filled in for me.  She is more than a little bit sweary, and by the time I caught up with her an hour in, she was scowling and ranting about people 'taking the f****** p***', so I gathered it wasn't going too well.  By 3pm when I took over from her, she was just throwing the phone down on some poor unfortunate who had dared request some notes and was sweating profusely and looking very angry indeed.  She had clearly worked herself up into a right old rip and said that she couldn't do this 'f****** job' every week and that she was 'just f***** off with talking to people to be honest'.  This made me throw my head back and roar with laughter because that is EXACTLY what the job feels like by 3pm.  Oh I do love people sharing my pain.  Yes, I am that selfish.

Just four more days to push Oliver through with his home-ed work before we can breathe a sigh of relief that there is a long break for the both of us where we don't have to spend every morning trying to simultaneously educate him whilst keeping hold of our fragile tempers.

I have a summer project brewing for him though.....

mwah ha haaah.

I simply MUST tell you

that I have just cooked the Tofu dish as discussed in my last post, from Hello Fresh, and it was bloody delish.

I would not have given this recipe a second glance, much less actually cook it - not in a million.  However, having been sent the exact proportions to make the dish, it would be quite wrong not to.  So, in lieu of anything else edible in the house, I sulkily set about this little affaire.

Oh me oh my. 

I was shocked to my core at how good this tasted, and at how narrow minded I have been about trying this before.  I am a strictly white basmati girl, but the brown rice we had with this was fab, chewy and satisfying.  And Tofu.  Tofu?!  The weirdy food of sandal-wearing vegans everywhere.

Meh.

Oh my little silken tofu, we shall meet again in the yummy fields of Bok Choi. 

I am so happily surprised by my tea that I am inspired to pull out my soap box, mount it with glee and spew forth on the virtues of the nutrition and taste that has just passed my lips.

Another bright and shiny point of the day has been a spot of charity shopping.  Another hobby of mine.  Today I picked up these babies

for 10p each.

TEN PEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I bought one at full price a week ago for £4.25.  They are about History for Cripes sakes, they will never go out of date. 

I loves them.

H A P P Y   D A Y S .

lol.

health vs happy

I have things to say.  I hope I don't run out of oomph before I have spilled all my beans.

I'll start with my birthday.  I LOVE my birthday, I really do.  There is no dread at being older (it now kind of just hangs there anyhow on a permanent basis) and the approach of it is a thrill as ever.  I don't do anything wild and wonderful - I just get a buzz out of knowing it's my special day, and feeling as if I can justify any naughty thoughts or deeds for that day.  We are not talking about planning murders or mugging old ladies here, just giving in to utter sloth and greed if the mood takes.  Just for one day.  So, here I am post pressie opening:

And I stayed there, in pretty much the same position (without the inane grin it has to be said) just lolling and reading for another couple of hours.  Then, quelle horreur, the flea stuff came in the post.  Darn it.  We have a flea issue at the moment, with Oliver and Mark getting bitten loads and visible fleas (bleeurgh) being seen on our actual persons at various points.  I have vacuumed and changed bedding and blobbed chemicals on the cats and then some, but still the blighters persist.  So I ordered some kill or cure spray over the internet to 'do' the house, and it bloody well came on MY special day.  So I had to do the flea deed.

Never let it be said I don't know how to celebrate. 

I got given these by Oliver,

who knows all about my personal problem with Maltesers.  I only have them on high days and holidays, because I scoff them in handfuls.  Really.  A whole box at a time.  I can't get enough of feeling them melt in my mouth into a large oozy ball of choc and honeycomb.

Dribble.

Transpires I have actually consumed over a kilo of Maltesers in just under 4 days.  I dare not buy another one until Christmas or I may just have to start attending a support group.

In the evening we went for an Italian meal.  Again, a low key thing, and very us.

So on to food. 

Raw food.

I read an article (a term used loosely here, as this is Reveal magazine I refer to) at the weekend about Kate Middleton/Duchess of Cambridge eating raw food once a week 'to keep her trim' or whatever trite bollocks they said.  This interested me as I have heard about raw food eating before, and been amazed that anyone in full possession of their faculties would choose to eat this way.  However, it clearly MUST be good for you - all those enzymes and stuff, and surely it would be easy to do just once a week??

And I would feel all aglow with inner energy and my insides would be all clean, pink and sparkly.

So, armed with a little knowledge (always a dangerous thing when it enters my head) I trotted out to spend the best part of £60 on fruit, salad, seeds and tahini.

On Tuesday I ate nothing but raw foods.  I think it fair to say that this must be the first time in my entire life that I have had a chemical free 24 hours.  It wasn't as easy as I thought, I felt permanently hungry and desperate for the comfort of a cup of tea or coffee.  I was glad to see my bed at the end of the day, I don't my telling you.  On Wednesday I awoke to the feeling that I had a massive hangover, probably due to chemical withdrawal.  Never being one to push through the pain barrier, I gave in immediately and had a coffee.  I just don't possess the desire to go through caffeine withdrawal, as in all likelihood I will not give it up for the rest of my life anyhow. 

This experiment left me feeling a bit bothered really.  I am quite convinced that the best way to eat is the wholesome brown rice and sandals way, but it is just so NOT a lifestyle that I want to embrace.  I read about Susan Jane White over on The Coffee Lady's blog.  So interesting, and quite, quite understandable that eating like this would cure your body of all ills. 

However.

My quandary is that it seems to be all or nothing.  I really want to eat 'better', although I don't think my diet is bad anyway,  (lets just pop the wine, pizza, coffee and maltesers into pending for a moment), and I am still on the 5:2 way of eating, but the more I stray towards the wholefood shop, I worry that I my body will not straddle the gap between 'normal' and 'healthy'. 

I made up a batch of these, also something I picked up from The Lady of the Coffee.

They are pretty damn fine.  I haven't calorie counted them (I dare not) but they are low carb, and therefore a really good, healthy snack for Oliver.  On my 'raw' day I was popping them like sweeties, and even Mark likes them.  Sacre bleu.

Mind you, the first time Oliver ate one he made a face and said they tasted of 'health'.  But the minor grumbling I find I can tune out, so all is good.

I also threw a mini-tantrum at my hand blender which is shit, whistles like a dentists drill and doesn't so much blend as gather together in a dirty great clump - jumped in the car and drove up to Tesco to buy the food processor I have been making noises about for months.   Now my culinary life can really begin.  I can make stuff now like proper cooks.  So there. 

I made pesto for the first time with it.  Clever me.  Although I have discovered two whole cloves of garlic in a little bit of pesto is a bit too much for just Oliver and I.  We stank to high heaven, tasted nothing but garlic all day and Oliver complained his tongue hurt when he ate it.  Not a total triumph then.

I made these:

Which I think I have over-fruited and undercooked, so they are really wet and need to be eaten with a fork.  It is the foolproof recipe I got from my dear bloggy friend Mrs Thomasina Tittlemouse, and I have not yet buggered these up badly enough so they cannot be eaten. 

I got a good initial offer on 'Hello Fresh'.  They send you recipe cards, and all the fresh ingredients to make said recipes.  Because it only cost me £11, I plumped for the veggie option, as I am a lazy vegetarian cook.  These are the three recipes I got:

Interesting, as I have never cooked any of them before, and never would bother, so £11 well spent I think.  I should point out that I would have been less thrilled to receive this at the full price of £36, so I was very quick off the mark to cancel my subscription the second that this little lot arrived. 

I shall let you know how it goes.

And to finish, some piccies of our weekend in the Isle Of Wight.

A real live English village Fayre.  This was in St Helen's, where we were staying.  I kept expecting to hear a scream from the tea tent, and to see Inspector Barnaby rushing across to deal with an unexplained poisoning.  It was that sort of place.  Midomer St Helen's. 

Proper cars.

 



 

How I hate these things.  £3 for 6 minutes. 

 

Meh.

 Osborne House.  Queen Victoria's place.

 

And very nice too.

 

 

Thanks for tuning in.