Lemon Cake and Hats

Inventing things is fun, especially recipes so:

Mums very sticky Lemon, lime and coconut cake

125gms butter

1 cup caster sugar

2 eggs

Grated rind of 2 lemons

1 cup of SR flour

3/4 cup desiccated coconut

1 cup milk

Syrup

Juice 2 lemons and 1 lime

100 gms icing sugar

50 gms des coconut

Mix together, heat gently while stirring well.

Cream butter and sugar

Add eggs then lemon rind

Mix in flour, coconut and milk slowly

Bake in large loaf tin for 45 minutes

Soak immediately with syrup

Allow to cool in tin

I love baking, but its seriously not good for the waistline, so has to be an occasional indulgence only.  What is a more regular indulgence is knitting. I've been on a hat kick over the last week. Three so far, one Big Apple Beanie in cream, soft and cuddly for Gillian, who has just lost a cat of 17 years friendship. One blue Big Apple Beanie for me, needed a very simple knit to take to hospital with me, and this did the job. One Star Slouch in brown, green variegated for Jenny,a special request and made extra slouchy.

This is me, modelling the hat for Gillian.

And Jenny with her very slouchy hat.

 

 

Fruit and other foods.

I have just had the excitement of an examination (physical ) and therefore the need to fast for a day. I missed my fruit more than anything else. That made me think about fruit in the past. We didn't have the range available that we have now. I remember:

- being given 6d (that's 2 1/2p) by the van driver, whose name was Ivor, and who always had a drip on the end of his nose, to go to the green grocer and get myself an apple. It was a Golden Delicious. It was perfect, big and round and crispy.

- having a star fruit, the next door but one neighbour was a pilot who flew with BOAC, and he once brought a bag of exotic fruit back and we all tried some. I wasn't impressed, but it would have been sitting in his bag for hours.

- bananas were always a treat.

- other fruit came in tins, heavily treated with sugar syrup. My mother used to make her trifle with black cherries from tins . They were canned with the stones in, and we had to stone them before using. My hands were stained purple for days. Now I make it with mandarin oranges, also from tins, as William doesn't like cherries.

Food was more expensive, I remember when the price of steak hit £1 a pound. It was a scandal.  Mother was a good cook, being German her style was continental, the vegetables were not watery and the meat was on the rare side. I remember the shock I got when I went to boarding school and was expected to eat overlooked everything. I lived on biscuits and bread. 

Knitting is moving on. I am on another cowl to go with my new coat. The coat was acquired to replace one I have lost. Don't know where, although that is illogical, as if I knew where it wouldn't be lost. Anyway the new one is greys and greens and reds so a grey and brown cowl. An interesting pattern Called 'In the Loop'. Maybe I should call mine Loopy Loo. Almost half done. Easy and fun. Now finished, sits well and warm and cosy. Will go well with my coat.

 

 

Cats and Scarves.

Once upon a time there was a young girl who loved animals, but her mother wasn't at all enthusiastic. However I persisted. The first pets I had were a pair of white guinea pigs with pink eyes. Pinky and Perky. I loved them and simply brought them home from a friends, it was a done deal, and I was allowed to keep them for a while. Unfortunately, although siblings, they were also keen breeders, and one was of each sex. Babies ensued. This was the final straw and I was made to take them to the PDSA and give them away.

The next trial was a budgerigar, also sourced from a friend, however this time on a loan to see what happened. Mum couldn't stand the smell, so made me keep its cage in the garage, which rather spoilt the point, so he went back.

The next trial was a cat. This one came from the local stables, Samantha, a tortie. She managed to stay. Mostly because I hid her in my bedroom for days, and then I wouldn't give her back. She was very intelligent, could open doors unless they were wedged shut and was totally a one person cat. Anyone else trying to handle her was thoroughly scratched. I loved her. She became the foundation of a string of cats. The only time I have been without was when I was at university, living in rented accommodation. The number has varied. Never less than two, now at six.

This photo is the youngest of the present brood, Eowyn. She, like most cats enjoys small spaces, and my knitting box was a perfect fit. Not sure if I will manage to get it back. At least she rarely chases wool, although has been known to bat my needles away, especially if she wants attention.

 Knitting is going apace. The wool in the foreground above is the starting point of a scarf for Gillian. She commented she liked the colours of a scarf I had done previously, and I had enough wool left over, so am making another. A different lace, but I think/hope she will like it.

I

 I have also just finished a winter weight cowl. This one is in two colours, not the original plan, but I realised, after doing the first segment, that I had completely miscalculated the amount of wool required. Luckily I had some of another colour in the same wool, and they went well together, so a striped cowl it is. Think I will keep this one for myself.

The third recent knitting event was my scarf for William. Again I didn't have enough, but this time ordered some more, unfortunately it was a very different dye lot, and although it blended, it was not appreciated as the second skein was mostly orange. Not a success, so I've taken the two halves apart, will finish the second half up and make into a fairly short cowl for myself. Don't know what I'll do for William though. Have to think, everything I've started he's wrinkled his nose at, metaphorically anyway.

Who am I?

Who am I?

So much depends on where you are, how you are brought up, your circumstances. I was born, and remain , intrinsically middle class, comfortably off, definitely not rich. A job that gives satisfaction, mostly, and a family. No jail birds, no drug addicts. So to reflect:

Pretend I was born in Scotland. In a very poor area, maybe in Granton. Lots of shouting at night. The stairways smelling of urine and vomit. Most of the older men, and many of the women, drunks. Most of the younger generation druggies. Lots of teenage pregnancy. Lots of violence. It's a scene I can visualise as have visited professionally on many occasions. But that's very different from living there. Would I have attended school? What would the school have been like? Never been properly clean.  Never been able to rely on anyone else. Bullied a lot, too fat and too clever. Would I be the same now? I don't think so. Intelligence rises, but you still need the right circumstances. Would I have had the willpower to kep working, or would I have taken the apparently easier path.

It's a hard reflection, difficult to imagine, and I've picked a lifestyle I know some things about. What about living as a black in white South Africa? Or a Native American on a reservation. Trying to imagine it is  beyond me. I am trapped in my own thinking patterns.  So how much can I truly understand others?

How much does my sense of self depend on what's around me, the trappings of a lifestyle where things often seem as important as people. No space in my house is empty. No space is uncluttered. Everything holds memories. I am a collector. Not of things of external value, but of small objects, of books, of music, of pictures. Would I still be me without them? How much of my persona is internal, and how much external?

So, a chance and a change, become more compassionate, and more accepting of compassion directed at me.  I think the latter is the more difficult. Treat it as fun. Look forward. Accept.

Borderlands and Cake

A trip to Glasgow for a day out. To start, the traditional coffee at John Lewis, although I had tea not coffee, and William had Irnbru. We then went for a wander, bought boots at Sketchers, and found an exhibition. A gallery I've never been into before, Street Level Photography near the Tron. An exhibition of photography from Lithuania. Unusual, much of it dark, mostly monochrome, but also dark in nature and recording despair and little hope. 

http://www.streetlevelphotoworks.org/programme/exhibitionsandprojects/lps/borderlands2/borderlands2.html

We then contrasted it with an exhibition of street sculpture in the Glasgow Gallery of Modern Art. Umm, well, this completely lost me. A doorway, a plastic umbrella and various piles of rubble. Just the sort of stuff that leaves me puzzled as to why its art. Clever, yes, meaningful?

The shopping trip ended with an exploration of a new wool shop. The Yarn Cake, even William approved. As well as wool she does coffee and excellent cake, together with chairs and tables for the reluctant wool shoppers. Interesting wool too. Drops and Maligbrio amoung other things. I have decided that my next project will be a long cardigan. Golds and browns.

The day was finished with the opening of a new whisky, a glorious dram of 25 year old Tullibardine. 

!8 Years

Jenny's 18th birthday. The youngest one is officially an adult. Having cleaned and hoovered the house and garden, tidied up, bought and cooked an awful lot of food we were finally there. I think the party was a success.  Jenny seemed to enjoy herself anyway.

Thinking back to the other major occasion of her birth. She always was awkward. Having threatened to arrive for weeks before she should, and having had me in and out of hospital like a yo yo, the day finally came. Lower segment Caesarian section using a spinal anaesthetic. Should have taken fifteen minutes, maximum. But it seemed to go on and on, and I could feel the anaesthetist getting more agitated 'Should I top up?' 'Again?'. Eventually the fateful words came 'I can't do this, can you call the consultant'. You could have heard a pin drop. The theatre sister was frantically shushing him and making gestures to the orderly. The anaesthetist politely said ' the patient, and her husband are awake'. The consultant came, order was restored. Jenny was hauled forth into the world and the registrar (now reduced to helper) said 'You have a boy!'. The theatre sister said 'I think you need to review your anatomy lesions, SHE'S beautiful' .

Baby and Adoring Dad

Cakes, cakes and more cakes

It's Jenny's 18th barbecue tomorrow, and today's job was baking. 

- lemon drizzle

- lemon and almond

- Victoria sponge

- dense chocolate cake

- carrot cake

- meringues 

I  started at 8am, and have just finished, 9 pm, although I still have some icing to do tomorrow.

We are also having muffins (3 types), and , of course, all the usual barbecue food.

I also managed to finish and block the Love Potion 1 Shawl. I am very pleased with it, lovely and cosy, and very soft, mixtures  of silk and merino, in greens and blues.  Now I can cast on something new, oh, the choice!

 

Busy Streets

Yesterday I went to Edinburgh again, this this time with Jenny. We were in the centre, it's festival time and the streets were crowded. Some people seem convinced they can just walk though you, I think we must have been using a cloak of invisibility! Which reminds me of the first time I came to Edinburgh. I was visiting a friend to see the place and decide wether I wanted to come here for medical school or go to London. I was waiting for her at the railway station. At that time there was a cafe at the top where you could look over Princes Street, I remember seeing the heaving mass of people, looking like ants, covering the pavements in all directions. I was terrified, a country mouse, the largest town I'd seen was Chichester, and it was never that busy. Luckily she lived in a quiet area, and it didn't feel so overwhelming there. Life would have been very different if I'd not come here. Better or worse -who knows, but certainly different.

We went to two exhibitions. Well, there were two on that I'd not seen.

Man Ray at the Scottish Portrait Gallery. A selection of his photographic portraits throughout his life. Brilliant. So many famous people. He must have had a glittering lifestyle, but often the models looked sad, or, at least, pensive. Very few were smiling. Very few engaged in something they enjoyed. Faces, and more faces. In a hundred years, without the bibliography no-one will recognise any of them. The brilliance of the photography will still show.

Peter Doig - No Foreign Land. As different as possible. Crashing colour. Enormous canvases, strokes of paint outlining the emotion rather than the fine detail. Some I could stare at for ever. No recognisable faces, possibly recognisable places if you knew the areas, but mostly almost abstract views telling you all about the heat, and the dust, and the sheer colour of the tropics. I was tempted to theft!

Of Witches and Wool

This was my day yesterday.

We went to the Scottish Gallery of Modern Art One, which I still think of as the Dean Gallery. The exhibition was on the history of witches in art, not the cute, fluffy type, of good (white) ones, but seriously evil black witches. Lots of  woodcuts, which, I think, show amazing detail, and some paintings. Most reveal mans cruelty to other men, and animals, but that seemed to be simply a matter of course thing. Much of the paintings gave a sense of the artists, mainly if not all, men, fear of women out of control, sexually, intellectually, and emotionally. Women definitely not doing what they were expected to, out of place, and therefore, unwanted and and hated.

The other theme of the day was wool. I started but getting an update of my love potion pattern. That links the two halves to the day. I then investigated a new wool shop in Edinburgh, the Ginger Twist Studio. Friendly and chatty owner, and some interesting wools, especially the ones she had dyed herself. Of course, I had to obtain some, even though my treasure trove is overflowing. I will not start another thing until at least one work is finished. That last gave me the needed mental excuse to spend the evening knitting, rather than doing anything useful, such as housework.

Dr Who? and Books!

The news of the day, and it made the headlines - a new Doctor.  It's an interesting fact that a TV show, however good, can raise so much excitement and angst. It has been running for ever, well 50 years this year. I remember it when I was little. We didn't have a TV, so I would go around to a neighbours or a friends. We used to watch it from behind the sofa, with a blanket to hide under when the daleks  appeared. But nothing was so frightening as the weeping angels. The can still send shivers up my spine, and I have been known to wish for a cozy blanket to peer out from under.

Truth about me:

I am not interested in television. Yes, I admit that I do watch some programmes, mainly SF and crime, with the occasional documentary thrown in. I wouldn't miss it though, and I rarely remember to put things on unless someone else in the family reminds me. I  have the ability to tune it out , so can read or plays games with it on in the room, and end up with no idea what's been on. Books are my thing. Reading, anything and everything. Words on the back of the cereal packet if there's none other around. Our house sinks under the weight of thousands of books, and I've run out of space for  bookshelves. Thank heavens for eBooks.

Books!

A very small portion. The shelves stretch along the entire wall, and reach almost to the ceiling, and ours is an old house, with high rooms.

When I was young I acquired books whenever and wherever I could, but the best source was the library van that came around every week. You were allowed 3 books, and I had my allowance, and my Mums every week. I started at A and worked along the shelves, they had to let me read the adult books early, as I'd run out of the child's fiction. 

 

Birthdays and Babies

Today is my father-in-laws birthday. I have made a cake, plain, 'cos that's how he likes them. He's a grumpy of codger, so I hope he appreciates it. We are also having a Chinese and Mo and Macy are meeting us there as a surprise. It's a bit of a bittersweet occasion as its likely to be the last birthday that he will really appreciate, although dementia is very unpredictable.

The Chinese was good, comes from a very tatty looking carry-out, but very tasty and the cake went down well. Good thing, as I had to get Nicky out of bed to go and get eggs and butter. Organisational skills are not one of my strong points! Cake making is though. It would be a disaster if I was at home all the time as I would do non-stop baking (as well as knitting) and would probably put on all the weight I have so effortfully lost, and more besides.

Macy is 18 months old. She was born on her great grandmothers birthday so is named after her Macy Lily. She was tired when she arrived and not up to being social with strangers, but eventually became more enthusiastic and took me around the garden to look at the flowers. I even got a daisy picked and presented to me.

Grandmum and Macy

F-in-L was in a really good frame of mind. Very pleased with the small party, and very attentive to Macy. He's come around a lot to her as initially he didn't approve of her, he's definitely of the generation where any partnerships should be of the regular married type, and all else is anathema. It's interesting how social mores change, up and down like an old fashioned swing.

Great granddad and Macy

That reminds me of the fair I used to go to as a child. It was always in the big field at the end of the street, and came at the end of summer. Very decorous in the afternoon, but got wilder in the evening and I wasn't allowed to stay late. They had a merry-go-round with horses painted gold, and swings with the two person boat type seats that you pulled back on forth. My father used to take me on those.  They were the most exciting thing I'd ever done, you could see right over the trees. I don't think you ever see them nowadays. One year I fell off the roundabout, and had to limp along the road to my aunts with blood streaming down my leg. If a child did that now I expect there would be a great fuss made, law suits threatened, and the like. Then it was just 'now get up, and go and clean up' and I didn't even get my sixpence back. 

Old Fashioned Excitement

I Don't Bounce

Yesterday I fell. Actually I was walking backward carrying my end of an old planter and tripped over a bag of compost. Bang. My head hit the floor and the planter hit my leg. Nothing actually broken, but its darn sore.

Which reminded me of the multiplicity of other daft accidents I have had over the years. The one that immediately sprung to mind was when I put a fork though my foot. A gardening fork mind, not a table fork, one of the big ones covered with mud. By this time we had moved to a house in Pagham Road. It had two large bedrooms, a study, a living room with a ding area and kitchen. It also has large gardens front and back. It had been built in the orchard of the house along the road, so had fruit trees, apples, pears, plums, cooking apples and cherries. The were old and didn't produce much fruit but we got some every summer, along with lots of wasps. Bramley apples taste great eaten straight off the tree, with a bowl of sugar to dip them in, to counteract the sharpness.

House - my bedroom, top right as looking at it.

The house was set slightly back from the road, with a wild area about a metre wide which was always full of daffodils and snowdrops and then a row of tall elm trees before the road. That was, of course, before Dutch Elm Disease. One early summer the council came along and said that all the trees would have to come down because they were diseased. I was furious. So I went out with a spade and fork to rescue some of the bulbs. I was so angry I wasn't looking what I was doing and put the fork right through my foot just above my toes. That needed a visit to the local surgery for a tetanus jag. I don't remember getting much sympathy either!

One of the things you can do while sitting with a sore leg is knit. My concentration has not been brilliant, and much cursing and frogging has ensued. Am working on the Curious Shawl. The other notable knitting event today is that my monthly parcel from the Skein Queen has arrived. At present I am trying to avoid the temptation is starting yet another project. I have promised myself, with fingers mentally crossed, that I will finish at least one thing before I start another.