Posts
Last night I dropped notes into neighbours’ letterboxes saying there will be free courgettes and copies of courgette recipes on the doorstep this morning and inviting them to help themselves. I’d put them out on the doorstep early then gone back upstairs for my quiet time. One of the Word for Today ‘Bible in a Year’ readings was: Luke 19:11-27 , the ‘Parable of the Ten Minas’ where the servant who has the most to begin with is given even more. Once I’d finished the set readings I turned to the Eckhart Tolle book, ‘A New Earth’ and picked up where I’d left off yesterday. I was reading the passage about abundance (pp 190 – 192) where Tolle recommends we ask ourselves often: “What can I give here; how can I be of service to this person, this situation?”
On my way back downstairs after my reading I had the pleasure of watching through the window two neighbours from different ends of the street standing chatting in the driveway, each clutching a large courgette and a recipe sheet, brought together by my simple act of sharing. I felt a warm glow of satisfaction of having done ‘the right thing’ in sharing the abundance of the allotment produce.
Saturday 30 August 2008
Tuesday 26 August 2008
Canoodling carrots
Doorbell rang at 9 am – I opened the door to find a car on the drive and a man I didn’t know on the doorstep. He asked my name, then handed over my new passport – excellent service! Later the Madhur Jaffrey cookery book I bought for 1p off the internet arrived and I sat reading it for a while, then wondered where the morning went. After lunch I went over the allotment to do a bit more work and pick some more crops. Anyone of my generation reading who remembers Esther Rantzen’s TV programme, ‘That’s Life!’? Remember the amusing vegetables they used to feature? How about these:
Canoodling Carrots
Piggy-back - the one on the left in this picture has a baby carrot clinging to its shoulders. The one on the right isn't as amusing in this photo as in the errr.... flesh.
Is it just me that thinks the potato below looks like a bottom?
Monday 25 August 2008
Gardener's Friend
Spent some time over the allotment reducing the pile of branches pruned from the plum tree, cutting them into smaller pieces to make it easy to transport them off-site. A juvenile robin kept me close company showing not a hint of timidity – perching on the edge of the garden pop-up bag only inches from my hand, and hopping down on the ground beside my boot to eat a worm. I made slow progress with the work, instead enjoying the bold little bird and its tuneful song. I kept stopping to watch, or being a bit delicate about which branches I pulled out so as not to disturb it too much :-)(It's well-disguised - can you pick it out in the photo above?)
Saturday 23 August 2008
Barn Dance
There’s always that question when you don’t know somebody very well and you’re invited along to a special celebration – what can you give as a gift. I’ve only known Claire and her husband via the dance classes we’ve been attending for the past couple of years, and so it was very nice to be invited along to a barn dance tonight to celebrate her 50th birthday. I enjoy barn dances! Upon reflection it seemed like a nice idea to present her with a scrapbook of the event. I took along a number of small blank cards and a selection of pens and set up a table at the entrance to the dance hall with a sign inviting guests to write things on the cards that Claire might enjoy reading – maybe shared stories or treasured memories, or simply well wishes. Then I took photos of the guests arriving. Once the dancing began I put the camera away and joined in with enthusiasm and much merriment – it was a fun time.
Later in the week I enjoyed the task of creating the scrapbook, assembling the cards and photos, adding a few quotes about friendship and embellishing the pages.
Later in the week I enjoyed the task of creating the scrapbook, assembling the cards and photos, adding a few quotes about friendship and embellishing the pages.
Thursday 21 August 2008
Mort
Finally finished reading Shantaram which I can recommend if you enjoy being caught up in a powerful, colourful story. Conveniently my next reading material, ‘A New Earth’ by Eckhart Tolle arrived yesterday.
Went to see the musical ‘Mort’ based on Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novel of the same name. Highlight of the show had to be ‘Death’, the 8 foot tall skeleton puppet. This brilliant costume and fluent, eloquent movements made the character incredibly convincing, creating a most engaging and enjoyable performance.
Went to see the musical ‘Mort’ based on Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novel of the same name. Highlight of the show had to be ‘Death’, the 8 foot tall skeleton puppet. This brilliant costume and fluent, eloquent movements made the character incredibly convincing, creating a most engaging and enjoyable performance.
Wednesday 20 August 2008
All's well
When I’d received the letter from the hospital with details of the appointment this morning, I’d merely glanced at the details, logged the appointment in Outlook and in my diary, then put it aside. Today I picked it up and realised there was a further sheet behind, giving another appointment at the same Outpatients’ clinic with a doctor whose name was unfamiliar to me. He turns out to be an Oncologist, which was a bit of a shock, but all is well. The first excision was successful in removing all the abnormal cells, and the sample removed in the second excision was clear, indicating no further treatment is necessary. However, the hospital is carrying out a study into whether Tamoxifen protects against the recurrence of DCIS in women who have had conservative surgery. I qualify to join the study if I want to. I agreed to receive details.
The other appointment was to inspect the wound, which is healing well. I’ll be called back in three months to produce my boobs for another inspection.
Later in the day I was checking out TV on Demand and discovered a Bollywood movie for free: [1]‘The Bluffmaster’. Being still deeply immersed in Shantaram, this appealed as a bit of fun escapism and to help support my visualisation of the world in which Roberts’ masterpiece is set. I’m told that one of the rules of Bollywood is that the characters never kiss – if you know whether this is true and if so, what’s behind it, please feel free to educate me via the comments box, see link below (or email).
[1]‘The Bluffmaster’ reminded me of another film, ‘The Game’ (Michael Douglas/Sean Penn). Anyone else seen these two films, noted the similarity?
The other appointment was to inspect the wound, which is healing well. I’ll be called back in three months to produce my boobs for another inspection.
Later in the day I was checking out TV on Demand and discovered a Bollywood movie for free: [1]‘The Bluffmaster’. Being still deeply immersed in Shantaram, this appealed as a bit of fun escapism and to help support my visualisation of the world in which Roberts’ masterpiece is set. I’m told that one of the rules of Bollywood is that the characters never kiss – if you know whether this is true and if so, what’s behind it, please feel free to educate me via the comments box, see link below (or email).
[1]‘The Bluffmaster’ reminded me of another film, ‘The Game’ (Michael Douglas/Sean Penn). Anyone else seen these two films, noted the similarity?
Tuesday 19 August 2008
Pretty Boring Trivia
Carrying a furled umbrella against the possibility of rain, I walked into town and used one of those automatic photo booths to get a couple of photos for my Passport Renewal application. As I exited the booth, the young lad waiting gave me an embarrassed grin full of fellow-feeling. The photos come as a set of four so I took them to the nearby church that has a coffee shop in the foyer, borrowed a pair of scissors and sat with a cup of herbal tea [1] whilst I finished preparing the Passport Renewal application for posting. Walking back through town, I stopped by the Post Office and sent it on its way by Recorded Delivery [2] and carried on to the appointment with the psychiatrist, Dr Y, who will be responsible for my care whilst I’m in the community. Before I got there, I spotted an ad for the film ‘Juno’, showing this afternoon in the local theatre, and resolved to go and see it after lunch.
I didn’t take to Dr Y last time I met him, because his line of questioning appeared to be intended to manage/manipulate me with guilt. Vic didn’t take to him because he felt the guy came across as unsympathetic, possibly with a cultural attitude problem (‘I know better because I’m a man and I’m a doctor’). I arrived punctually for the appointment, and after waiting 20 minutes, I approached the receptionist to enquire into the delay. She came out of her little room and peered vaguely up the stairs before admitting she didn’t know, but he might already have someone with him. I was ready to be snippy with Dr Y when I got to see him but he disarmed me with a humble apology, explaining his previous appointment had over-run.
We’re all very keen to get to the root of the problem – to work out what triggers the relapses – and he had been working on a theory on why internal conflict is arising, which he laid out for my inspection. It was a neat theory and if it were true, would suggest an easy solution. I warmed to him – taking it as evidence of his intention to have a ‘hands on’ approach, and of his belief that it makes sense to attempt to determine the cause rather than simply treating the symptoms.
It turns out he has been holding the forms for the renewal of my driving licence, but will now complete them and send them back.
My mood when I came away from the appointment was much lighter. I picked up some lunch in a café and went on to the Theatre. Whilst I was waiting in the bar for the auditorium to open, one of the residents from the place I used to work came in and bought herself a drink then sat and talked to me. When I was working there, she’d asked to have me as her key worker, and now she told me she wished I was still there, and asked if I would go back. All very flattering.
I doubt that the Theatre achieved the ‘break-even’ point with an audience of 5 (including me) for Juno at this matinee showing. All of us were female. I thought it was a tender, enjoyable girlie film and I particularly liked the soundtrack. Much as with the TV programme, ‘West Wing’, subtitles would have been useful to help me keep up to speed with the dialogue. The triple whammy of fast delivery, unfamiliar accents and unfamiliar vocabulary meant that I was still decoding what one character had said when the next began, but overall I got the gist of it. I suspect there isn’t a lot in it for men - definitely a ‘chick flick’ - the male figures not being drawn particularly sympathetically.
When I walked home there were a few spits and spots of rain and the umbrella, which had been a nuisance to carry round all day, now proved useful.
Despite my best intention to draw up a get-me-fit-and-healthy plan, we’re still on the rich diet. Today’s menu: Courgette & Brie soup; Vegetable Masala and Pilau rice; Gluten-free Lemon Cheesecake. Yummy. Don’t hesitate to ask for the recipes.
I didn’t take to Dr Y last time I met him, because his line of questioning appeared to be intended to manage/manipulate me with guilt. Vic didn’t take to him because he felt the guy came across as unsympathetic, possibly with a cultural attitude problem (‘I know better because I’m a man and I’m a doctor’). I arrived punctually for the appointment, and after waiting 20 minutes, I approached the receptionist to enquire into the delay. She came out of her little room and peered vaguely up the stairs before admitting she didn’t know, but he might already have someone with him. I was ready to be snippy with Dr Y when I got to see him but he disarmed me with a humble apology, explaining his previous appointment had over-run.
We’re all very keen to get to the root of the problem – to work out what triggers the relapses – and he had been working on a theory on why internal conflict is arising, which he laid out for my inspection. It was a neat theory and if it were true, would suggest an easy solution. I warmed to him – taking it as evidence of his intention to have a ‘hands on’ approach, and of his belief that it makes sense to attempt to determine the cause rather than simply treating the symptoms.
It turns out he has been holding the forms for the renewal of my driving licence, but will now complete them and send them back.
My mood when I came away from the appointment was much lighter. I picked up some lunch in a café and went on to the Theatre. Whilst I was waiting in the bar for the auditorium to open, one of the residents from the place I used to work came in and bought herself a drink then sat and talked to me. When I was working there, she’d asked to have me as her key worker, and now she told me she wished I was still there, and asked if I would go back. All very flattering.
I doubt that the Theatre achieved the ‘break-even’ point with an audience of 5 (including me) for Juno at this matinee showing. All of us were female. I thought it was a tender, enjoyable girlie film and I particularly liked the soundtrack. Much as with the TV programme, ‘West Wing’, subtitles would have been useful to help me keep up to speed with the dialogue. The triple whammy of fast delivery, unfamiliar accents and unfamiliar vocabulary meant that I was still decoding what one character had said when the next began, but overall I got the gist of it. I suspect there isn’t a lot in it for men - definitely a ‘chick flick’ - the male figures not being drawn particularly sympathetically.
When I walked home there were a few spits and spots of rain and the umbrella, which had been a nuisance to carry round all day, now proved useful.
Despite my best intention to draw up a get-me-fit-and-healthy plan, we’re still on the rich diet. Today’s menu: Courgette & Brie soup; Vegetable Masala and Pilau rice; Gluten-free Lemon Cheesecake. Yummy. Don’t hesitate to ask for the recipes.
Talking of food, this week I read research has shown that how you describe a dish on the menu affects how tasty people will rate it. Give information about the ingredients, eg 'juicy fresh British strawberries with rich golden Jersey cream', and people will rate it more highly than a dish of 'strawberries and cream'. I wonder if something similar applies to Blog post titles - did you bother to read all the way to the end, given the 'Pretty Boring Trivia' title?
[1] from the Twinings Tranquility range with African honeybush, mandarin and orange. Unusual but not unpleasant.
[2] Declining the £7 ‘Check and Send’ and the £4-odd ‘Special Delivery’ service.
Sunday 17 August 2008
Panty Pad
I’m wearing a panty pad in my bra. This is not, I hasten to assure you, a sign of advancing senility. No, indeed. I do know where panty pads are supposed to be applied (I understand the clue in the name), but this was an inspired improvisation. Where the wound and the bra strap have been coming into contact, it has left small bloodstains on the fabric. I was reluctant to apply an adhesive dressing, so I turned the problem around and applied the adhesive panty pad to the bra instead. It is, after all, hygienic and fit for purpose. Errr… apologies to anyone if this happens by chance to be the very first entry you read in this blog … this subject matter isn’t fully representative of the whole. At least, I don’t think so. Nor am I proposing to post a photo to support this entry. Moving swiftly on…
A friend once shared that lack of feedback was her reason for giving up blogging – she felt that had she received some evidence that her words were being read and appreciated by a wider audience than the two of us, she would have been encouraged to continue. Sometimes when I feel discouraged, her comment comes back to me. When I’m feeling insignificant, when I’m not receiving the affirmations I crave, when it feels like I’m giving and giving and not receiving, I question again my own motives in writing.
Recently I’ve either read or heard it said that when we are at peace with ourselves, there is silence; it is when we lack peace within that we begin to emit sound. If I could find where I came across that, I’d like to check it out again, to hold my own thoughts on the subject up against it and see how they compare. I wonder how writing fits in – I have to admit that sometimes I prefer to write first drafts with a pen on paper, that intimate acquaintance with the words somehow creating the relationship that enables the writing to flow.
If the world exists to help us recognise who we are … as I try to finish that sentence, follow that train of thought, it pulls out of the station and chugs gently away from me leaving me to try and pull the threads together and create some kind of article that isn’t rags and tatters. What exactly am I trying to say, and to whom? Answers on a panty pad, if you like.
Getting back to my friend's comment, it would have been easy to feel discounted by her remark. I was reading and commenting on her blog entries – was that not enough? Were my words insufficient encouragement? Instead I recognised that she was unconsciously offering me an honest mirror in which I was able to check my own attitude and if I didn’t like what I saw, to find the greater truth that would be more beautiful to behold. I come back and re-read my own words from time to time. Perhaps it reassures me in some way, tells me like the L’Oreal advert, “You’re worth it!” Maybe that’s what this is about.
In ‘A Course in Miracles’ which I’ve been working my way through, I’ve reached Part II which begins with the sentence: ‘Words will mean little now.’ It goes on to explain that from now we will be looking for the periods of wordless deep experience that will follow our waiting in quiet expectation of encountering truth.
A friend once shared that lack of feedback was her reason for giving up blogging – she felt that had she received some evidence that her words were being read and appreciated by a wider audience than the two of us, she would have been encouraged to continue. Sometimes when I feel discouraged, her comment comes back to me. When I’m feeling insignificant, when I’m not receiving the affirmations I crave, when it feels like I’m giving and giving and not receiving, I question again my own motives in writing.
Recently I’ve either read or heard it said that when we are at peace with ourselves, there is silence; it is when we lack peace within that we begin to emit sound. If I could find where I came across that, I’d like to check it out again, to hold my own thoughts on the subject up against it and see how they compare. I wonder how writing fits in – I have to admit that sometimes I prefer to write first drafts with a pen on paper, that intimate acquaintance with the words somehow creating the relationship that enables the writing to flow.
If the world exists to help us recognise who we are … as I try to finish that sentence, follow that train of thought, it pulls out of the station and chugs gently away from me leaving me to try and pull the threads together and create some kind of article that isn’t rags and tatters. What exactly am I trying to say, and to whom? Answers on a panty pad, if you like.
Getting back to my friend's comment, it would have been easy to feel discounted by her remark. I was reading and commenting on her blog entries – was that not enough? Were my words insufficient encouragement? Instead I recognised that she was unconsciously offering me an honest mirror in which I was able to check my own attitude and if I didn’t like what I saw, to find the greater truth that would be more beautiful to behold. I come back and re-read my own words from time to time. Perhaps it reassures me in some way, tells me like the L’Oreal advert, “You’re worth it!” Maybe that’s what this is about.
In ‘A Course in Miracles’ which I’ve been working my way through, I’ve reached Part II which begins with the sentence: ‘Words will mean little now.’ It goes on to explain that from now we will be looking for the periods of wordless deep experience that will follow our waiting in quiet expectation of encountering truth.
Friday 15 August 2008
I need a dream
This week I watched part of a TV programme called ‘The Land of the Jaguar’, and in it there was a man who reminded me of A.H., a Christian I haven’t had contact with since I changed churches. As this man enthused about his subject, the light in his eyes lit his whole face. I thought about him again today, in the context of running. A.H. began running in his 30’s, building up the miles until he was running to and from work, a round trip of about 26 miles. His artistic daughter designed him a t-shirt depicting him fleeing from Death. Remembering that today, I find myself wondering if she had read the Discworld novels and encountered the character Rincewind.
I’ve been thinking I need to create myself a Recovery Plan – to spring-clean my life, get rid of the clutter and accumulation of bad habits. Confirmation of that came in a marketing email from which I quote:
I hope that you are all finding ways to reduce stress and take advantage of the tremendous opportunity we now have to release the patterns that no longer serve us and begin to truly manifest a better dream.
Since I’ve come home from The Ridgewood, I’ve been far less motivated to maintain the exercise regimen I set myself there. At my Discharge meeting this Wednesday, I spoke of how I’ve had a low mood, and been less motivated to do even the things that I normally enjoy. The psychiatrist pointed out that it wasn’t to be unexpected, having just undergone an operation under general anaesthetic. Fair comment, I guess. Nonetheless, I think it will help me feel my life has some direction if I devise a suitable plan, scheduling some little treats and rewards for goals attained along the way. I’ll let you know how it goes.
I’ve been thinking I need to create myself a Recovery Plan – to spring-clean my life, get rid of the clutter and accumulation of bad habits. Confirmation of that came in a marketing email from which I quote:
I hope that you are all finding ways to reduce stress and take advantage of the tremendous opportunity we now have to release the patterns that no longer serve us and begin to truly manifest a better dream.
Since I’ve come home from The Ridgewood, I’ve been far less motivated to maintain the exercise regimen I set myself there. At my Discharge meeting this Wednesday, I spoke of how I’ve had a low mood, and been less motivated to do even the things that I normally enjoy. The psychiatrist pointed out that it wasn’t to be unexpected, having just undergone an operation under general anaesthetic. Fair comment, I guess. Nonetheless, I think it will help me feel my life has some direction if I devise a suitable plan, scheduling some little treats and rewards for goals attained along the way. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Thursday 14 August 2008
Emotionally labile
I had a phone call from a friend who anticipated being in my area around lunchtime and wondered whether today would be convenient to take me up on the standing invitation to join me for lunch. I confirmed it would be more than convenient, it would be a pleasure, and there was some home-made mushroom soup on offer. Having put the phone down, I looked at the clock and decided I had ample time to walk into town, do a bit of shopping, pick up a passport renewal application form from the Post Office, and get back home before my visitor. I picked up handbag and keys, unlocked the front door, stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind me. Mistake. I had left the keys in the lock on the inside. Once the front door shuts, you can’t get back in without a key. What is worse, if there is already a key in the lock on the inside, in theory you can’t unlock the door from the outside even with a key. I felt a mild sense of panic and reached for my mobile phone. The first number I tried was Dave’s landline, but I got a message saying this number wasn’t available, so I phoned him on his mobile. I explained what I’d done and asked him if he was at home, and could he come and try his key. (He lives very nearby and often works from home). He didn’t give me a direct answer and I formed the impression that I’d just woken him up. In a relaxed, unhurried way, he began to ask about the type of key-ring the keys were on – exploring aloud the possibility of sticking a suitable implement through the letterbox and retrieving the keys from the lock. I asked him again to at least just come over and try his key. He was convinced it wouldn’t work, citing an occasion when he’d locked himself out, and persisting gently with his original line of questioning. I flared up. “I’m ringing from my mobile, it’s pay-as-you-go and I don’t know if I have enough credit for a long conversation – if you’re not prepared to help, then forget it!” I snarled and hung up. Then I stood there for a moment blinking back the tears and considering my options. I set off for the town, composing a text to Vic as I went, explaining what I’d done and asking him to speak to David for me and explore how he could help. I sent a further text to my prospective visitor explaining my predicament and that I was walking into town whilst thinking about how to proceed. Back came the suggestion, ‘David?’ Grrrr!
As I walked, I thought about David’s response, recognising that sometimes it is a valid thing to do when someone appeals for help, to ask a few questions in case they have the resources to solve the problem themselves, rather than immediately leaping to the rescue. Indeed, it might well have been my own response to requests for help on occasion. Now I was on the receiving end though, and it didn’t feel so good. I had appealed for his presence, convinced that the problem could immediately be resolved if he had jumped in his car and driven over with his key. I didn’t want to be stalled by his questions until this seemingly obvious course of action had been at least attempted. I brushed a few tears away and prayed out loud, “Lord, I’m sorry if there have been times when I’ve let you down by failing to respond to a plea for help, a plea for my presence”.
When I was standing at the checkout in the first shop, the phone rang. It was my friend – I said quickly, “I’m in a shop, I’ll call you back in two minutes”. The phone rang again – this time it was David and I didn’t want to put him off. He asked where I was, confirmed he’d got my keys and would pick me up outside the Mall.
As I got in his car, it was like a dam burst. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” I was sobbing. I don’t think he’s ever seen me upset like that before. I’m normally the antithesis of a drama queen. He tried to comfort me, saying he remembered how it felt – the shock – when he’d locked himself out, and how frightening it could be, but that he’d got in with no damage done. In between sobs I tried to get it together enough to explain that a general anaesthetic can sometimes make people emotionally labile for a while. He brought me home and stayed with me, helping himself to breakfast and getting me to make him a cup of tea. He hadn’t got to bed until after 4 in the morning. Irregular hours seem to go with the territory when it comes to IT work.
He had retrieved the keys in the way he’d been trying to describe over the phone when I hung up – using the handle of his car jack – but after he left I couldn’t resist trying to unlock the door with another key when one was in the lock on the inside, and sure enough, so long as the one on the inside hasn’t been turned, you can still unlock it, so in a way we were both right.
As I walked, I thought about David’s response, recognising that sometimes it is a valid thing to do when someone appeals for help, to ask a few questions in case they have the resources to solve the problem themselves, rather than immediately leaping to the rescue. Indeed, it might well have been my own response to requests for help on occasion. Now I was on the receiving end though, and it didn’t feel so good. I had appealed for his presence, convinced that the problem could immediately be resolved if he had jumped in his car and driven over with his key. I didn’t want to be stalled by his questions until this seemingly obvious course of action had been at least attempted. I brushed a few tears away and prayed out loud, “Lord, I’m sorry if there have been times when I’ve let you down by failing to respond to a plea for help, a plea for my presence”.
When I was standing at the checkout in the first shop, the phone rang. It was my friend – I said quickly, “I’m in a shop, I’ll call you back in two minutes”. The phone rang again – this time it was David and I didn’t want to put him off. He asked where I was, confirmed he’d got my keys and would pick me up outside the Mall.
As I got in his car, it was like a dam burst. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” I was sobbing. I don’t think he’s ever seen me upset like that before. I’m normally the antithesis of a drama queen. He tried to comfort me, saying he remembered how it felt – the shock – when he’d locked himself out, and how frightening it could be, but that he’d got in with no damage done. In between sobs I tried to get it together enough to explain that a general anaesthetic can sometimes make people emotionally labile for a while. He brought me home and stayed with me, helping himself to breakfast and getting me to make him a cup of tea. He hadn’t got to bed until after 4 in the morning. Irregular hours seem to go with the territory when it comes to IT work.
He had retrieved the keys in the way he’d been trying to describe over the phone when I hung up – using the handle of his car jack – but after he left I couldn’t resist trying to unlock the door with another key when one was in the lock on the inside, and sure enough, so long as the one on the inside hasn’t been turned, you can still unlock it, so in a way we were both right.
Monday 11 August 2008
Allotment Update
Yet more courgettes and French beans! This time I phoned the Residential Home for Adults with Learning Disabilities that I used to work at and asked them if they could use the courgettes. A number of these have grown into marrows. The manager accepted gratefully, agreeing that Stuffed Marrow was a traditional meal that many of the residents would be familiar with and would enjoy.
Over the weekend a friend helped me harvest the remaining ‘Foremost’ First Early and ‘Saxon’ Second Early potatoes. Total yield was over 30 lbs of Foremost and over 50 lbs of Saxons. Many of the Saxons are baking potato size, and maybe because of the combination of drought in their early growing phase then over-abundance of water in their latter days, they have strange creases in them. Some of the potatoes also have small black holes in them, which may or may not be eelworm, but overall certainly a pleasing harvest.
Over the weekend a friend helped me harvest the remaining ‘Foremost’ First Early and ‘Saxon’ Second Early potatoes. Total yield was over 30 lbs of Foremost and over 50 lbs of Saxons. Many of the Saxons are baking potato size, and maybe because of the combination of drought in their early growing phase then over-abundance of water in their latter days, they have strange creases in them. Some of the potatoes also have small black holes in them, which may or may not be eelworm, but overall certainly a pleasing harvest.
Thursday 7 August 2008
Fractious
Here I was back at home, free to choose my own schedule, to do more or less as I please, to enjoy the solitude for which I’d been yearning – and perversely I felt fractious and sorry for myself, uncharacteristically ready to find fault. Where was the beautiful big bunch of flowers, the rapturous ‘welcome home’? The last time I’d had an operation, I’d thought beforehand about how friends often say ‘let me know if there’s anything I can do to help’, and I’d let it be known that I would appreciate it if anyone felt like making us a meal. It’s a way I’ve been happy to show my love and care for others in the past. This time I hadn’t asked – and no one had offered. Where was the reaping what I’d sown?
Instead it was up to me to put an extra bit of effort in, to make myself feel loved and cherished. I discovered a chicken breast in the fridge Vic had defrosted and then not used, plus a few rashers of bacon. I decided to cook a luxurious evening meal and walked into town to buy cream, mushrooms and leeks. In the supermarket I bumped into a friend who drew me into a warm hug, inadvertently applying painful pressure to the wound. “You didn’t drive in, did you?” she demanded. “No, I walked” I responded quickly. What I hadn’t anticipated was that my legs were feeling quite trembly, and I would have appreciated a lift home, but I didn’t think to ask and she didn’t think to offer, even though she told me she was planning to drop a card and some flowers round later on. We parted, each to our own shopping, and I walked home. I hadn’t been home long when the doorbell rang – it was my friend. She thrust a bunch of pinks and a card at me and scurried off to jump in the car with her husband. They lead VERY busy lives. Strangely the interlude didn’t improve my mood. Here were flowers and a card signed by some of my friends at church, but this peevish spirit dismissed the gesture as being too little, too late. No pleasing some people, eh? Who IS this churlish monster hiding behind my polite smile?
Dinner was every bit as delicious as I’d intended. I cut the chicken and bacon into bite-sized pieces, fried them with the leek, onion, garlic and mushrooms, added a tin of cream of chicken soup then tipped it all into a casserole dish and topped it with thinly sliced boiled potatoes (from the allotment, naturally), poured cream over and cooked it for 45 minutes. Vic arrived home as I was cutting up the chicken breast with a sharp knife. I barely acknowledged his greeting, instead continuing to concentrate on the task in hand. After a pause he asked, “Have I upset you?” It was the wrong thing to say. Please don’t ask me what the RIGHT thing to say would have been at that point! After I’d verbally eviscerated him, I suggested he give me a bit of space to find myself again. Later he gave me the beautiful get well card his boss’ wife had made for me. Strange how the kindness of casual acquaintances can reach us when we have all but closed ourselves off to those who love us.
Instead it was up to me to put an extra bit of effort in, to make myself feel loved and cherished. I discovered a chicken breast in the fridge Vic had defrosted and then not used, plus a few rashers of bacon. I decided to cook a luxurious evening meal and walked into town to buy cream, mushrooms and leeks. In the supermarket I bumped into a friend who drew me into a warm hug, inadvertently applying painful pressure to the wound. “You didn’t drive in, did you?” she demanded. “No, I walked” I responded quickly. What I hadn’t anticipated was that my legs were feeling quite trembly, and I would have appreciated a lift home, but I didn’t think to ask and she didn’t think to offer, even though she told me she was planning to drop a card and some flowers round later on. We parted, each to our own shopping, and I walked home. I hadn’t been home long when the doorbell rang – it was my friend. She thrust a bunch of pinks and a card at me and scurried off to jump in the car with her husband. They lead VERY busy lives. Strangely the interlude didn’t improve my mood. Here were flowers and a card signed by some of my friends at church, but this peevish spirit dismissed the gesture as being too little, too late. No pleasing some people, eh? Who IS this churlish monster hiding behind my polite smile?
Dinner was every bit as delicious as I’d intended. I cut the chicken and bacon into bite-sized pieces, fried them with the leek, onion, garlic and mushrooms, added a tin of cream of chicken soup then tipped it all into a casserole dish and topped it with thinly sliced boiled potatoes (from the allotment, naturally), poured cream over and cooked it for 45 minutes. Vic arrived home as I was cutting up the chicken breast with a sharp knife. I barely acknowledged his greeting, instead continuing to concentrate on the task in hand. After a pause he asked, “Have I upset you?” It was the wrong thing to say. Please don’t ask me what the RIGHT thing to say would have been at that point! After I’d verbally eviscerated him, I suggested he give me a bit of space to find myself again. Later he gave me the beautiful get well card his boss’ wife had made for me. Strange how the kindness of casual acquaintances can reach us when we have all but closed ourselves off to those who love us.
Sunday 3 August 2008
Greengracer*
Saturday 2nd
Over the allotment there is much to be done. In three hours I harvested more courgettes, cauliflower, sugar snap peas, French beans, carrots and swede, and dug up one and a half rows of the ‘Foremost’ first early potatoes. They look a bit scabby but otherwise quite a good yield. On top of all the courgettes I’ve given away already, today’s harvest would have stocked a greengrocer’s! The people on the neighbouring plot were happy to take two off my hands, and the rest I passed on to a couple from church who run a charity supporting an orphanage in Uganda (the plan being they would offer them in exchange for donations to the orphanage, along with copies of courgette recipes). Got a lift home with all the produce and set to work making a delicious fresh vegetable masala for dinner. Feel free to ask if you want the recipe. There was enough left over to freeze two generous portions.
Sunday 3rd
Today I had some help lifting the remaining first early potatoes, plus one plant’s-worth of the ‘Saxon’ second earlies to see what they’re like. Had the Saxons roasted for dinner - delicious!
Blanched and froze the cauliflower, peas and beans.
*If someone who sells vegetables is a greengrocer, is someone who gives them away a greengracer?
Over the allotment there is much to be done. In three hours I harvested more courgettes, cauliflower, sugar snap peas, French beans, carrots and swede, and dug up one and a half rows of the ‘Foremost’ first early potatoes. They look a bit scabby but otherwise quite a good yield. On top of all the courgettes I’ve given away already, today’s harvest would have stocked a greengrocer’s! The people on the neighbouring plot were happy to take two off my hands, and the rest I passed on to a couple from church who run a charity supporting an orphanage in Uganda (the plan being they would offer them in exchange for donations to the orphanage, along with copies of courgette recipes). Got a lift home with all the produce and set to work making a delicious fresh vegetable masala for dinner. Feel free to ask if you want the recipe. There was enough left over to freeze two generous portions.
Sunday 3rd
Today I had some help lifting the remaining first early potatoes, plus one plant’s-worth of the ‘Saxon’ second earlies to see what they’re like. Had the Saxons roasted for dinner - delicious!
Blanched and froze the cauliflower, peas and beans.
*If someone who sells vegetables is a greengrocer, is someone who gives them away a greengracer?
Friday 1 August 2008
Reflections
Walked into town today to join a group of friends for coffee. What we have in common is all being Mental Health service users. One member of the group spoke of the problems she and her husband have been encountering in selling their house and moving to another area. She had been accumulating her annual leave ready for the move, but upon learning that for various reasons the move would be postponed until September, she had suddenly realised just how tired she was and decided to take a week off. That seemed to be the signal her body had been waiting for to manifest various annoying symptoms of physical illness, minor in themselves but sufficient in their accumulation to leave her feeling well below par and vulnerable to the serious depression that stalks her life.
Intelligent, articulate, artistically gifted and highly organised, this lady has considerable insight and the ability to convey things conversationally in a manner that makes entertainment of her struggles for her audience. As I listened, I recognised a pattern I have noted before in my own life and others’, that the body sometimes will defer illness until a season of work ends and a lull begins. This phenomenon is so widely recognised that pre-retirement counselling is provided to minimise the risk of succumbing to an early visit from the Grim Reaper upon reaching that time beyond regular employment. I knew all this, but hadn’t previously made the connection my mind now supplied. I thought back to Vic’s trip to France. I had filled his absence with a foment of activity. That word, foment, originally had the sense of applying warm liquids to the skin, and in similar vein, the pleasant activities had acted like a balm to my soul, washing away any anxious thoughts or feelings in a gently enjoyable stream of consciousness. Then came the night of his return. It has been said that where our deepest fears and desires meet, nightmares are born.
Intelligent, articulate, artistically gifted and highly organised, this lady has considerable insight and the ability to convey things conversationally in a manner that makes entertainment of her struggles for her audience. As I listened, I recognised a pattern I have noted before in my own life and others’, that the body sometimes will defer illness until a season of work ends and a lull begins. This phenomenon is so widely recognised that pre-retirement counselling is provided to minimise the risk of succumbing to an early visit from the Grim Reaper upon reaching that time beyond regular employment. I knew all this, but hadn’t previously made the connection my mind now supplied. I thought back to Vic’s trip to France. I had filled his absence with a foment of activity. That word, foment, originally had the sense of applying warm liquids to the skin, and in similar vein, the pleasant activities had acted like a balm to my soul, washing away any anxious thoughts or feelings in a gently enjoyable stream of consciousness. Then came the night of his return. It has been said that where our deepest fears and desires meet, nightmares are born.
-----***-----***-----
I had intended to spend Friday afternoon over the allotment but the weather was a bit ‘iffy’ so instead I popped into the supermarket on my way home and bought some leeks and brie. The courgette plants over the allotment have produced a prodigious crop and I’ve been giving them away on the ‘café’ offshoot of the local Freecycle group. One of the recipients shared her Courgette & Brie soup recipe with me and I wanted to give it a go. It was yummy!
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