"Shall we have pasta and slow-cooked lamb for supper?"
I'm too hot to even think of eating pasta.
So one again, I've raided my tiny vegetable plot. One rather young lettuce, and a handful of spinach leaves make a sort of salad, with bought new potatoes and bought tomatoes. Our tomatoes as still flowering rather than fruiting. I few slices of cold meat... a glass, or several, of Chablis - supper.
Tomorrow we will have about ten broad beans each, and maybe a couple of courgettes from the garden to supplement things from the shops.
It has been properly hot here all week. I can't imagine what it is like for people doing the Ramadan fast in this weather. Hats off to them, I say. Much tougher than trying not to eat chocolate or drink alcohol during Lent.
Tomorrow we have a met office warning of rain - bring it on, I say. My veggies need it.
Wednesday, 21 June 2017
Wednesday 21st June - Slug-catchers
Who would have thought that our silicone mini-tongs
would have made such brilliant slug-catchers? (We've got the pink ones).
Don't worry, I put them through the dishwasher afterwards.
I might add these
to my birthday list ready for next year's war-on-slugs.
I'm reluctant to poison them because of birds and hedgehogs and I'm too squeamish to squish them or drop them into a bucket of water, salty or otherwise. Throwing them over the back fence into the waste ground isn't a reliable solution, as they are homing creatures. You need to whang them at least 20 metres away, apparently.
So, I pick them off the plants and drop them into the garden waste recycling bin. That's still not the perfect solution, as every time I open the lid they are at the top, ready to make a slow sprint for freedom.
would have made such brilliant slug-catchers? (We've got the pink ones).
Don't worry, I put them through the dishwasher afterwards.
I might add these
to my birthday list ready for next year's war-on-slugs.
I'm reluctant to poison them because of birds and hedgehogs and I'm too squeamish to squish them or drop them into a bucket of water, salty or otherwise. Throwing them over the back fence into the waste ground isn't a reliable solution, as they are homing creatures. You need to whang them at least 20 metres away, apparently.
So, I pick them off the plants and drop them into the garden waste recycling bin. That's still not the perfect solution, as every time I open the lid they are at the top, ready to make a slow sprint for freedom.
Monday, 19 June 2017
Saturday 17th June 2017 - Tea
To cut a short story shorter, we ended up having lunch at an unusual, but very elegant tea-shop. I'll keep the story even shorter, but when did you last have your tea-shop tea served on vintage china, with a real teapot?
And check out that sweet little salt pot and spoon!
After delicious smoked salmon sandwiches and salad, we had equally good cake.
We were on another round exploring local churches. We had intended to visit three, but it was too hot, and we spent too long in the teas hop, so the medieval church of St Mary's Bletchingley was as far as we got.
The walk to the church looked exactly like this picture (from the wikipedia site)
The church hasn't changed much either;
Who would have known that Bishop Desmond Tutu spent some time as a curate here?
from his wikipedia page;
Tutu then attended King's College London, (1962–1966), where he received his bachelor's and master's degrees in theology. During this time he worked as a part-time curate, first at St Alban's Church, Golders Green, and then at St Mary's Church in Bletchingley, Surrey.[5] He later returned to South Africa and became chaplain at the University of Fort Hare in 1967.
And check out that sweet little salt pot and spoon!
After delicious smoked salmon sandwiches and salad, we had equally good cake.
We were on another round exploring local churches. We had intended to visit three, but it was too hot, and we spent too long in the teas hop, so the medieval church of St Mary's Bletchingley was as far as we got.
The walk to the church looked exactly like this picture (from the wikipedia site)
The church hasn't changed much either;
 |
| https://www.achurchnearyou.com/bletchingley-st-mary/ |
Who would have known that Bishop Desmond Tutu spent some time as a curate here?
from his wikipedia page;
Tutu then attended King's College London, (1962–1966), where he received his bachelor's and master's degrees in theology. During this time he worked as a part-time curate, first at St Alban's Church, Golders Green, and then at St Mary's Church in Bletchingley, Surrey.[5] He later returned to South Africa and became chaplain at the University of Fort Hare in 1967.
Friday, 16 June 2017
Friday 16th June - What's that noise?
Heard a strange rapid flapping noise from the other end of the room....
one of my souvenirs of Kircudbright is a helenium plant, handed to me in a small cardboard box. I'm hoping it should eventually become something like this.
I've put it on the kitchen windowsill, but hadn't got round to chucking the box into the recycling bin, so it is still on the floor in the dining room.
The cats have been taking it in turns to try it for size. It does seem to be rather small for them, or maybe the cats are just a bit big for the box. Who knows.
The strange sound was Leo waking up and shaking her head, so that her ears were rattling against the sides of the box. Wouldn't you have thought that would be a bit painful?
one of my souvenirs of Kircudbright is a helenium plant, handed to me in a small cardboard box. I'm hoping it should eventually become something like this.
 |
| https://www.saga.co.uk/magazine/home-garden/gardening/plants/perennials/how-to-grow-heleniums |
I've put it on the kitchen windowsill, but hadn't got round to chucking the box into the recycling bin, so it is still on the floor in the dining room.
The cats have been taking it in turns to try it for size. It does seem to be rather small for them, or maybe the cats are just a bit big for the box. Who knows.
The strange sound was Leo waking up and shaking her head, so that her ears were rattling against the sides of the box. Wouldn't you have thought that would be a bit painful?
Friday 16th June 2017 - Books I have read
I've just this minute finished
![The Bone Sparrow: shortlisted for the CILIP Carnegie Medal 2017 by [Fraillon, Zana]](https://images-eu.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/51lwU4hegKL.jpg)
which was a tremendous read. It's a young adult book, I suppose, but not for the very young, that's for sure. I downloaded after reading a review somewhere, and set in a modern-day refugee camp and told through the eyes of a child. Once I realised that the refugee camp was in some familiar country - it is never named, and for a long time I thought it might be in the USA, but that didn't make sense I became increasingly upset at the hideous and hopeless like that was inflicted upon the inmates. Is there a happy ending? Well, there is certainly a sense that there will be a resolution, but, no, not an actual ending. of resolution - the story, like the lives of the refugees, has to just live in hope of some kind of ending. Five stars. I'll have to read it again, because the slow pace of the beginning races to a rapid and compressed finish, so I ended up reading as fast as I could see the words just becuase that was how fast everything was happening.
I didn't exactly finish
as I couldn't wait for the story to unfold to find out how it ended. I'm no good at scary psychological. So I had to skip several chapters to make sure all the characters we ok, before going back to the bit I missed. I think I did read it all, if not in the right order.
is the latest in a series of historical fiction that I adore. Sir Robert Carey is somehow connected to the Royal family, which means Queen Elizabeth the first, and these are his adventures mostly in Carlisle and Scotland, or in London. They are full of plot and counter plot, and also details of everyday life in Tudor times. Here's hoping there's another one already on the way. five stars
I'm glad I downloaded a free copy of
(which had a boring plain cover) because I didn't enjoy, or even finish this. I think I must have read an abridged version as a child, as this one does have long, long passages that I speed read.
I downloaded "The Daily Stoic"
after reading a a blog about a contentious secondary school in London, the Michaela Academy, where stoicism is explicitly taught to all pupils. Their teaching methods seem extraordinarily old-fashioned in today's world, and it is often getting lambasted in the press. I suppose I must be old-fashioned too, because it seems very familiar. Anyway, apart from stoical having a sense of "putting up with things without complaining" and "making the best of situations" I didn't have much of a clue. This is just a quote for the day and short thought about it - rather like Bible reading notes - and it was cheap. I dip in and out from time to time.
Rather like
that also sits on my Kindle. This is read daily in Benedictine monasteries, divided up into short sections so that the whole Rule is read three times a year. It deals with everything from how the young children in the monasteries should be cared for (with firmess, kindness and a consideration for their youth), to exactly which Psalms should be said when.
I re-read this - one of the most astonishing children's books I have ever read. It is in 100 chapters, none of them longer than a couple of pages, and each snippet of the story interlocking with the whole. It is like a jigsaw, or, better, a series of stained-glass windows. The story switches back and forth between "Now" - medieval England, and "Then" - the legend of King Arthur, written so vividly and with such conviction that you feel as though you are there. I've got the paperback (it's out on loan) and I downloaded it to take to Kircudbright. ..... I have just paused briefly in between sentences of this blog post to download the next two books in the trilogy. five stars
which was a tremendous read. It's a young adult book, I suppose, but not for the very young, that's for sure. I downloaded after reading a review somewhere, and set in a modern-day refugee camp and told through the eyes of a child. Once I realised that the refugee camp was in some familiar country - it is never named, and for a long time I thought it might be in the USA, but that didn't make sense I became increasingly upset at the hideous and hopeless like that was inflicted upon the inmates. Is there a happy ending? Well, there is certainly a sense that there will be a resolution, but, no, not an actual ending. of resolution - the story, like the lives of the refugees, has to just live in hope of some kind of ending. Five stars. I'll have to read it again, because the slow pace of the beginning races to a rapid and compressed finish, so I ended up reading as fast as I could see the words just becuase that was how fast everything was happening.
I didn't exactly finish
as I couldn't wait for the story to unfold to find out how it ended. I'm no good at scary psychological. So I had to skip several chapters to make sure all the characters we ok, before going back to the bit I missed. I think I did read it all, if not in the right order.
is the latest in a series of historical fiction that I adore. Sir Robert Carey is somehow connected to the Royal family, which means Queen Elizabeth the first, and these are his adventures mostly in Carlisle and Scotland, or in London. They are full of plot and counter plot, and also details of everyday life in Tudor times. Here's hoping there's another one already on the way. five stars
I'm glad I downloaded a free copy of
(which had a boring plain cover) because I didn't enjoy, or even finish this. I think I must have read an abridged version as a child, as this one does have long, long passages that I speed read.
I downloaded "The Daily Stoic"
after reading a a blog about a contentious secondary school in London, the Michaela Academy, where stoicism is explicitly taught to all pupils. Their teaching methods seem extraordinarily old-fashioned in today's world, and it is often getting lambasted in the press. I suppose I must be old-fashioned too, because it seems very familiar. Anyway, apart from stoical having a sense of "putting up with things without complaining" and "making the best of situations" I didn't have much of a clue. This is just a quote for the day and short thought about it - rather like Bible reading notes - and it was cheap. I dip in and out from time to time.
Rather like
that also sits on my Kindle. This is read daily in Benedictine monasteries, divided up into short sections so that the whole Rule is read three times a year. It deals with everything from how the young children in the monasteries should be cared for (with firmess, kindness and a consideration for their youth), to exactly which Psalms should be said when.
I re-read this - one of the most astonishing children's books I have ever read. It is in 100 chapters, none of them longer than a couple of pages, and each snippet of the story interlocking with the whole. It is like a jigsaw, or, better, a series of stained-glass windows. The story switches back and forth between "Now" - medieval England, and "Then" - the legend of King Arthur, written so vividly and with such conviction that you feel as though you are there. I've got the paperback (it's out on loan) and I downloaded it to take to Kircudbright. ..... I have just paused briefly in between sentences of this blog post to download the next two books in the trilogy. five stars
Sunday, 11 June 2017
Sunday 11th June - Sunday in Kircudbright
I know, that was two weeks ago, but things happen and blogs don't get posted...
Church was a good way to start the day - Ascension Day. I was rather puzzled at first, until I realised that the vicar had a Northern Ireland accent instead of the the English one I was used to, or the Scottish one I was expecting. Everything else was familiar - the liturgy of the Church of Scotland is very close to that of Church of England. Singing from a Real Hymn Book (and all singing from the same page - had to put that in before anyone else did) was a blast from the past. It's all overhead projection down our way, and anyway if you are really in the groove you sing with your eyes shut.
Afterwards, the weather cleared, and they had a Sunday Farmers Market as part of the festival - great! I munched my way around the locally produced sausages, pickles, cakes, jams, mustards, ending up at the cheese stall. I would dearly have loved to bring some back as a present, but didn't think it would stand up to the journey in a hot train.
After lunch we set out to a beautiful beach, called Carrick Beach. More disorientation for people more used to the Carrick Roads down in Cornwall.
We wanted to investigate an art installation called "The Edge", part of the art trail. This was delightful; we picked our was along a line of realistic looking driftwood and salvage, all connected to local stories and myths from the villages round about. The start of the trail was marked by a working harmonium, apparently washed up by the sea. This related to a story where the church organ disappeared overnight; apparently it was thrown over a cliff by some of the congregation during some kind of dispute... really?
Along the bits of wood and junk were suitcases and boxes and containers
with letters, photographs, recipe books, dolls, scientific instruments, messages in bottles, clothes, shoes - every one contained a marvel.
I might try and make the Kirk Pudding some day...
The next hour or so consisted of a series of failures to find anywhere that would serve us an early high tea, before the start of a Male Voice Choir concert in Newton Stewart. Never mind. The COOP was still open, and had six packets of sandwiches left. I got bacon lettuce and tomato - not an occasion for pickiness. We sat in the back row of the Presbyterian Church surreptitiously munching - we'd thought the concert began at 7:30 (so did the choir, I overheard) but kick-off was at 7pm.
They were a great choir, all the way from Stoke-on-Trent (award yourself a prize if you saw that coming) and were justly proud of having won the North Wales Choir Competition twice in a row, and being politely asked to enter a different festival next time round. They shared their concert with a very talented young Traditional Scottish Singer, and a local bagpiper to open and close each half.
Long drive home, watching an amazing sunset develop as the day darkened.
Church was a good way to start the day - Ascension Day. I was rather puzzled at first, until I realised that the vicar had a Northern Ireland accent instead of the the English one I was used to, or the Scottish one I was expecting. Everything else was familiar - the liturgy of the Church of Scotland is very close to that of Church of England. Singing from a Real Hymn Book (and all singing from the same page - had to put that in before anyone else did) was a blast from the past. It's all overhead projection down our way, and anyway if you are really in the groove you sing with your eyes shut.
Afterwards, the weather cleared, and they had a Sunday Farmers Market as part of the festival - great! I munched my way around the locally produced sausages, pickles, cakes, jams, mustards, ending up at the cheese stall. I would dearly have loved to bring some back as a present, but didn't think it would stand up to the journey in a hot train.
After lunch we set out to a beautiful beach, called Carrick Beach. More disorientation for people more used to the Carrick Roads down in Cornwall.
We wanted to investigate an art installation called "The Edge", part of the art trail. This was delightful; we picked our was along a line of realistic looking driftwood and salvage, all connected to local stories and myths from the villages round about. The start of the trail was marked by a working harmonium, apparently washed up by the sea. This related to a story where the church organ disappeared overnight; apparently it was thrown over a cliff by some of the congregation during some kind of dispute... really?
Along the bits of wood and junk were suitcases and boxes and containers
with letters, photographs, recipe books, dolls, scientific instruments, messages in bottles, clothes, shoes - every one contained a marvel.
I might try and make the Kirk Pudding some day...
The next hour or so consisted of a series of failures to find anywhere that would serve us an early high tea, before the start of a Male Voice Choir concert in Newton Stewart. Never mind. The COOP was still open, and had six packets of sandwiches left. I got bacon lettuce and tomato - not an occasion for pickiness. We sat in the back row of the Presbyterian Church surreptitiously munching - we'd thought the concert began at 7:30 (so did the choir, I overheard) but kick-off was at 7pm.
They were a great choir, all the way from Stoke-on-Trent (award yourself a prize if you saw that coming) and were justly proud of having won the North Wales Choir Competition twice in a row, and being politely asked to enter a different festival next time round. They shared their concert with a very talented young Traditional Scottish Singer, and a local bagpiper to open and close each half.
Long drive home, watching an amazing sunset develop as the day darkened.
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