Sunday 29th February - Comforts

I came home a day or so ago to find a package awaiting my attention...

it contained a card and TWO boxes of chocolate!

I can't show you what the chocolates looked like

 

I can only explain that there were four in each box, shaped like maple leaves, and filled with a delicious maple fondant/cream sort of yumminess. We had one each, and another, and that was one box finished. We considered saving the other box for later that evening, but then we ate them anyway. Four each, with a cup of coffee, in the break between me getting home and starting teaching again.

 

The card has lasted longer than the chocolates, and is reminding me to send a thank you note.

 

Thinking over the ups and down of the past few months, lots of people have asked "what can we do?" and have offered all kinds of suggestions - making us a meal - meeting for a coffee.

 

These expressions of sympathy and cards and offers have been greatly appreciated (we have a home-made fish pie n the freezer as I write!).

 

Here are some of the other treats and physical expressions of sympathy that have lightened the darkness:

 

 

 

Lovely bunches of spring flowers, which I had on the kitchen windowsill. There was also a pot of snowdrops.  (These are from the garden - the pot on the windowsill was a lovely sight too but is just leaves now). I find flowers to be a considerable comfort and joy. Without the calories. 

 

  

Cake! With a serious amount of jam in the middle!

 

 

And, of course, the huggy bear.

 

 

Looking for these pictures has meant scrolling through the picasa albums for this year and last year.

 

- ah, that was when - oh, I'd forgotten that - oh, my word, I remember how -

 

Pass me the bear for a minute...  that's better.

 





Tuesday 23rd February - Thermal vests

Not so boring any more!

I bought two more yesterday. Having spent three hours slowly losing all my body heat while sitting teaching piano for in a small, unheated room, I zipped into town to rectify the problem.

Marks and Spencers sells the funkiest thermal vests ever. I bought a purply-blue sparkly one at the beginning of the winter (I was wearing at my mother's funeral - did you spot it? No? I'm not surprised!)

Anyway, I bought two more: red sparkly and black sparkly, determined NEVER to freeze in that little refrigerator of a music room again.

I'm wishing I bought the leopard print version now:




I might yet go back for it.

Anyway, going back to yesterday, it wasn't until I had a hot bath in the evening that I managed to get properly warm for the first time since getting out of bed.

So, naturally, I made sure to wear one of my new vests today. Which explains why I am now far too hot, indeed, sweltering hot, in spite of having been teaching in chilly school halls and porta-cabins all day.

What shall I do tomorrow? Toss a coin. Heads I'll freeze without my thermals, tails I'll boil with them on.

February Halfterm

Half term is finished now - for once it lasted a whole week, rather than disappearing like water down the plug-hole.



http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/personalfinance/household-bills/9051509/How-to-cut-your-water-bill.html

Mind you, if I had a sink like this one, I think I would stand and watch water run down the drain all day, every day.



http://www.notcot.org/page/244/#11422

By which I mean that I think I - we - managed a good balance between Rest and Recovery, Relaxation, and Things That Needed To Be Done.

I'm not sure what category to put the annual Women's World Day of Prayer Coffee Morning which was on the first Saturday of half-term. I sort of thought of it as "work", and just planned for half-term to  start after Saturday Lunch. It went OK; people came, my contribution (laptop computer and PA system) worked well, thanks to BB helping with setting up, and it didn't take too much effort to wash my ten tablecloths afterwards.

Things Needing To Be Done included a dental appointment on the Monday, and routine blood test on Tuesday morning. (Two more dentist visits to come, though...) There were other Things To Be Done, and, (mostly), Done they were.


Rest and Recovery involved hours, half-days, of sitting around, reading, watching TV, lazy mornings, aimless meanderings. We were both feeling pretty tired out and ready to "stand down" (ie "Lie down"!) for a bit. I've lost count of how many books I've downloaded onto my Kindle, but will give this one a mention, a recommendation by Phillip Pullman from somewhere.

https://www.bookdepository.com/Summer-Book-Tove-Jansson/9780954221713

I could see every day getting snookered by bitty little appointments; several of my pupils have upcoming exams and wanted/needed lessons here and there in between their half-term activities. I pre-empted their requests by blocking out and entire day, where BB and I would disappear in a plume of car exhaust to somewhere. Which we did. A bit of a weird day out. We went East, to Hythe (the crypt full of bones won't be opening until mid-March and it was too cold to investigate the Military Canal), and Dymnchurch (the Redoubts and Martello Towers will open later in the Spring). We Fetched up in Rye (Lamb House, home of the famous author E F Benson, and some other novelist called Henry James, wasn't open today).

A much more successful day out was at the beginning of the week, when we zipped off to Nyman's Gardens. Here come the photos:

It was a bracingly cold day of promises and hope-for-the-future, of fat buds at the point of opening against a clear bright blue sky, of birdsong, and small children... just wonderful.

 

 

Saturday 13th February - Tante Martje's biscuits

I haven't got the recipe sorted yet:

something along the lines of

300 g flour (give or take)
1 packet of butter (half an English pound is roughly 250 g so that's about right)
100g caster sugar

I've always kept a couple of vanilla pods in my caster sugar jar, because my mother did. Smells wonderful. Mummy said that this new-fangled fad of paying inflated prices for small packets of "vanilla sugar" was ridiculous...

Rub all together until it forms a ball, adding more flour as necessary.

You can then carry on by

rolling out the dough and cutting out biscuits, not too thin.

or shape round discs by hand, and then, with the back of a floured fork, make one set of lines going north-south and another going east west, making a sort of criss-cross pattern where they overlap

or form the dough into a fat sausage, wrap in cling film and chill. Once firm, cut slices slightly thicker than a pound coin

or, divide the dough in half. Add enough cocoa powder to one half to make it a satisfactory chocolate brown. Roll out both pieces the same size, place one on top of the other and roll up like a swiss roll. Cover with cling film, chill, and then carry on as above.

Whatever you end up doing, cook them on a baking sheet lined with paper for around 14 minutes at 190C (375 F). Leave for a minute, and lift onto a rack to cool.

They should look like this, tinged with gold round the edges and paler in the centre. Maybe these are a bit on the pale side.

 



The advantage of making the dough into a cling-film sausage is that it can live in the fridge for a while, and any time you want some biscuits you can have fresh, warm ones, straight from the oven for very little effort.

Mummy was taught to make them by her Tante Martje, years and years and years ago. Seventy-five years ago? Who knows. I remember the recipe written in Dutch on the inside cover of her Dutch cookery book (the one with a black and white stripy cover, long gone now.). A soon as I was old enough, she taught me to make these biscuits - I can remember the astonishing mess the kitchen would get itself into whenever I was baking. Now I am teaching my food processor to make them. It is beginning to get the hang of it. It is slightly less messy than the hands-in-the-bowl, dough-stuck-to-the-fingers, flour-all-over-everywhere method.

Monday 8th February - Flowers, and Funeral

I'm writing this on Wednesday 10th.

I haven't written earlier about my mother's funeral because it's been a bit non-stop since then. I've a quiet half hour now, when I've time and energy and "groundedness" to be able to put words into a coherent order.

The funeral was late afternoon, 4pm, and plenty of people came - how lovely to see you all! Thank you, especially the cousins who struggled with railway chaos to get there, (and commiserations to the cousin who was defeated by the railway chaos and had to turn back).

I felt that it was a warm, loving affair, in keeping with my mother's nature. I'm not going to go into details, so if you want to know more about the service, or receive a copy of the sheet, get in touch. 

As we came out of the chapel, we were greeted by a friendly, well-mannered cat! That was a surprise. It walked among us in a stately, suitably serious way, providing a bit of light relief to us cat-friendly-people, and a neutral topic of conversation. Well done, cat.

The flowers were beautiful: a big spray from all the family, and a wreath from my mother's oldest friend from kindergarten days.

the family flowers



The wreath from my mother's friend - a bit blurry, sorry!

One of the bearers removed the cards and handed them to me with a rose - and I thought - why leave the flowers there to fade and wither? So we all helped ourselves to the roses, freesias and tulips out of the big spray. My cousin said that she had taken the wreath from her father's funeral, and enjoyed at home for several days, so I did the same. I put the roses from the family flowers in a vase and left it with my father.

The wreath looked a bit - wreath-like? - on my dining-room table, and a little difficult to explain to all the piano pupils that come and go.

 

 

So I pulled the flowers and greenery out, and arranged them in a dish instead. The scent of the hyacinths is now filling the room. 

Flowers were such a part of my mother's life - it seemed entirely appropriate to bring them home rather than walk away.

Sunday 7th February - Taking a Breather

This week has been fairly, but not impossibly, full of detail.

Tomorrow will be the service at the crematorium. This has dominated large chunks of every day. Probably larger chunks of my father's days than mine.

But, like a cliché, everyday life continues.

The branches on the willow trees have turned to amber and honey gold. (This picture is from last Spring, as I wasn't able to stop and take a picture this week.)

Our next-door-neighbour's crocuses are out in drifts across their flower beds. And I checked when I was driving past a particular sheltered south-facing hedge on Friday, and the earliest hawthorn leaves are definitely out.

This weekend has been full of family time, as son and daughter have been around. We've been out for a pizza together, played board games, eaten chocolate, sat about and just generally given ourselves an easy couple of days together. Tomorrow will be what it is - the music has been chosen, the service sheets printed, the various tributes written, the other words and poems chosen. Finger crossed (especially in view of the weather forecast!)

Monday 1st February - Invisible People

I've frequently heard it said (by women) that they become invisible once they are over 50.

Let's test the theory....

This afternoon, I was driving along, fairly briskly when I realised that it was not the curve in the road which made the oncoming white van appear to be overtaking the car in front - he was ACTUALLY OVERTAKING THE CAR IN FRONT, AND DRIVING ON MY SIDE OF THE ROAD! And making no effort to slow, pull back in, do anything sensible. A full emergency stop on my part (luckily no-one is behind me) enabled him to carry on overtaking without any hindrance from other road users.

Later, closer to home, the opposite side of the road was (as usual) cluttered with parked vehicles, but my side (as usual) was clear. This made it nice and easy for the bus driver coming towards me. He (it was a man) just had to swing out and continue on my side of the road. No problems for him, but  it meant another try out for my brakes and tyres so he too could proceed without inconvenience.

I may be an invisible woman (being over 50) but surely a bright red Alfa Romeo with headlights on is moderately noticeable? Something along these lines. But British. And me driving it, obviously.




Apparently not. I shall get it re-sprayed fluorescent pink.

 

Not that I think it will make much difference.