Reasons to be glad for living

One of the strange things about this time of year is that most of the people I love have either died or have left (and by default taking their relations with them - I won't ask a family to take sides against its own). Don't feel sad, it's the inevitable consequence of a dangerous lifestyle! You can tell from this all passion spent* mood that I've got some time off and am on my own. This is very much a mixed blessing. It means that my health problems remain my own nemesis and not my and someone else's embarrassment. It means that I eat and drink what I want, I watch what I want and sleep when I want. It used to be read what I want, but I'm still humming and hawing as to where to put my new daylight lamp...

It's the "watch" what I want that makes me glad to be alive. Leaving aside the vast canon of cookery programmes that sustain me (and believe me, I need to coax myself into eating on occasion, so choice of word is not idle [appetite, not emotion]), there are a number of films that I still ration how often I watch them. Amazingly, there have been some recent ones which I have grown to love as much as old favourites:

Star Trek - J J Abrams' brilliant recreation of the essence of the feeling of the original series - quite, quite stunning. This is a film that has me out of my chair and punching the air and shouting YES! Such an affirmation of human values (even the Vulcan!)

GalaxyQuest - ever been to a science fiction or games con? Then watch it, it is on occasion so acute in observation it is painful, but it is also excruciatingly funny at times. The Klingon cameo in the bog is soooooo true, and I bet there are self-affirming prats like that still wondering about the cons. What is amazing is that you find yourself split on multiple levels. Hmmm - hard to explain; you suspend disbelief: it's a comedy in an area you know; you suspend it yet again as you get sucked into the interior plot and rejoice in the death of Saris. Brilliant!

The Core - the best saved from disaster movie ever made; mainly because the characters (and not coincidentally actors) make you suspend disbelief far more than the plot (unobtainium, anyone?). I've just watched this again and it is a real tour de force - you simply look up at the end and realise that something like two hours have gone by, there are tears in your eyes, a gladness in your heart. Not coincidentally Delroy Lindo is in it and he has been an actor I've looked out for ever since a brilliant performance in DS9. Fantastic cast.

Lord of the Rings - my best friend passed some years back and I'm still getting over it, and I know that there are very many who are still feeling the void, the loss of his wit, charm and arrogance. How I could do with his astringent humour at times. But he got to see this before he passed and we both rejoiced at how good it was. I know it's not the book, but you'd have to be made of stone not to cheer at first the appearance and then weep at the death of Haldir and the Elves at Helm's Deep. A creation of the Jacksons' that reflects the Elves' spirit of unending sacrifice to the land. I could go on for hours just on that passage. Needless to say this holiday I will be seeing the New Year in watching all three back to back.

Amelie - the ravishingly beautiful Audrey Tatou as the lead in this stunning Jean-Pierre Jeunet film. If you haven't seen it, please, please do. It is naive, funny, touching and beautifully filmed. It made me love Paris before ever I saw it. (I am a Francophile - there, I've said it.) It is so touchingly innocent and, if you analyse it (god forbid) it could so easily have lapsed into either sentimentality or mawkishness... also brilliant by most of the same cast (and giving a not inconsiderable insight into the effects of WWI on France, is A Very Long Engagement - Bingo Crepiscule is a name to conjure with!).

Etre et Avoir - This series of views into a small French village schoolhouse are quite, quite beautiful and touching; wouldn't you want to be a teacher in this environment? But it also reflects the way of life in the French countryside, which is still massively unmechanised and still entirely family oriented. Watch it, it will tell you more about the French than you will at first realise. (And yes, I do speak a bit of French... but not much.)

What have all these in common? The re-affirmation of the positive values of what it is to be a human being.

*(John Dos Passos, or if you're a science fiction fan look at the sort of fiction John W Campbell was publishing towards the end of his career - still venerated in America, rightly so as an editor, he rather put his glasses down when reading end of the universe stuff, particularly after Astounding morphed into Analog. His own writing was tedious.)

Season's Greetings

This is just a quick post to anyone who might be mad enough (like me) to do some blogging. Enjoy your holiday, however long and here are some tips from the Sage of Aylesbury (that's the bear, not me):

* Remember that a relationship is built up over time and it is easy to let undue expectations at this time of year destroy it; if you're partner gets p****d and insults your mother, it is not the end of the world! He/she's still the same person you hooked up with!

Lesser ones:

• Don't eat or drink more than you would normally do when celebrating an event during the rest of the year - this is your time as well, and tomorrow is a day you'll want to enjoy as much as today!
• Ignore the traditions you don't like - if that involves other people, try and create new ones which involve everyone!
• If you want a kip during the day, lie down on the bed and have a proper kip for 20-40 minutes - don't kip in a chair! You'll walk around looking at the wall otherwise.
  
• If you're the cook, write down the timings for everything that you need to do. Don't try and keep all the timings and processes in your head; booze, interruptions, rugrats and other events will conspire to make you miss something. It's a bit late if you're doing a massive bird for Lunch, but you should still have time if it's Dinner.
• If you don't like a present, fall back on praising an aspect of it - avoid "Oh... how interesting..." (which makes it sound like you've found a snail), and if all else fails and you want to give a hint that you don't want anything like that next year "I'm sure that will be really useful". Sadly, you will receive presents, like the horse's head in the godfather, which you cannot refuse; if they're something you can take and lose on holiday, wait until then and give them to a charity shop (in my case, this year, the route to the shop was instantaneous - unwrap, black bin bag, into a canister for friends' relatives in Zimbabwe, where they will appreciate it). Failing that, put them in the loft, wait til you move house and leave them there. :-))
  
• If you get criticism of a present you've given, tell the recipient you're sorry and that you won't commit the social solecism of giving them any further presents. If they're a child, they might (as I did) be upset, but they'll learn some manners!
• For next year, unless you are very, very certain, do not imagine you know someone else's taste is. Viz said instant charity shop present, I cannot believe the giver would use anything so hideous themselves, so why imagine my taste is worse! This is a serial offender who fortunately doesn't visit, who I don't want to upset, but god I wish she'd stop. However she does give me some cracking bottles of wine!

Enjoy the holiday, whatever religion, race or persuasion you are.

I've already done my spuds, parsnips and carrots - now I have the onerous task of opening a bottle and considering whether it's sprouts today or whether I'll do the Cauli Cheese today! (Tomorrow will be cold ham, bubble and squeak and pickles and chutneys)

Genius behind the beards

As I wait in the office for a race against time for the delivery men to beat the oncoming snow (a long story about a meeting room table), I thought I'd apologise for the long hiatus in blogging. Part of this is just sheer pressure of work allied with lack of energy. So apart from the usual chores, I've rather been collapsing in front of the TV, sticking in a DVD.

And what have I been watching? Two series: Eating in the Sun - Nadia Sawalha and The Hairy Bikers' Food Tour of Britain. What both have in common are amateur cooks going into professional kitchens and the huge courage that that needs; Nadia's has the benefit of some stunning sunshine, her lovely smile and some great chefs.

The former is brilliant and very enjoyable, but it simply isn't as good as the Hairy Bikers FToB. I'm so glad I recorded it, because it is so long (30 x 45 minutes is such a lot of programming) I really can't see it ever being released on DVD - it's 22.5 hours of recording and was something of a labour of love recording it (done because it was on at a time I couldn't watch it) and then burning the DVDs - not a quick process!

Someone in reviewing it said it was a bit formulaic - that may be true, as each episode starts with about 15-20 minutes of searching for the special dish of a particular county, and cooking it for the denizens, and the remainder in a chef's challenge against one of the best chefs in each county (including the great and beloved Nigel Haworth). But there is no repetition, unlike MasterChef. And what is really, really good is not only the sheer fun of it, but also the genuine exploration of each county's food products and their incorporation into the challenge dishes. This is like Rick Stein's Food Heroes, but far more of it. Absolutely cheers me up, whatever mood I'm in. I could rave on about how good they are for hours!

But suffice it to say that they remind me a lot of two other food heroines of mine, the two fat ladies!

Reading the instructions, forgetting my brain

There's something about the weekly invention test (done to liven up what are the dreary weekends of Winter, not the least this one where it seems to rain incessantly). Anyway, gather round and hear the tale of the George Foreman grill and the madman who reads the instructions. But, first, I should explain that I have bought a baby version of one of these because I'm mean: grilling only one 8oz Sirloin steak means that a helluva a lot of energy is wasted. So the GF seemed like a good plan, especially as the Security Man at work (who you are very polite to, if you have any sense as he used to be a bodyguard) keeps getting in my ear about how wonderful they are.

So, I had this steak, some old basil and spring onions, some potatoes, mushrooms, passata and the usual veg. I sit down with a glass of wine and commence my first mistaken activity - I read the instructions. Now, I know better, really I do, especially with cooking equipment, as most of the instructions are couched in such a way as to ensure safety, not excellence of result. But, SM's words were in my ear, so I read them, I oiled the cooking plates and wiped them off after heating.

For the pots (parboiled baby pots, sliced in 1/2" chunks), I gently fried through some sliced spring onions, sliced garlic, finely chopped ginger, some chili powder in olive oil; added the mushrooms and brought the heat up until all the fluid has been absorbed and fried on a medium sort of heat for a further two minutes. I then added the pots, about 2 x wine glasses full of Passata, some Chili and Garlic sauce, and what turned out to be quite a lot of Basil. This bit turned out scrumptious, incidentally. I then put the lid on this and turned my attention to the GF; now I like my steak raw (a sort of cross between bleu and saignant), but the surface cooked and hot all the way through. The GF said 7-9 minutes, so I cooked it for 7 minutes.

I am an idiot. I would hardly cook a steak that long in a frying pan; get butter and olive oil blisteringly hot, add steak; hold down onto hot surface, move and then leave for 1-2 minutes; check and then probably turn over and do the same on the other side. 7 minutes I cooked this inoffensive 28 day matured steak. I ate it as a penance (it is, after all protein), but this part of the beef gave up it's life to an idiot. As far as I'm concerned I'd managed to remove all the flavour and make it as chewy as hell. As the GF works by draining the fat (the tasty bit) out of contact with the steak, logically it can't be any good for cooking steak. I am a moron.

Furthermore, the easy to clean GF is not; it took me three times as long to clean as a grill and 6 times as long as a frying pan... back in its box. Life's too short for a GF, although with substandard chicken or pork it may be a good way of getting rid of the injected water. I'll give it one more go with one of those...

Sorry to chunter, but it ticks me off big time when I ruin the most expensive ingredient I buy.

Go compare the telephone calls.com

To say that this is going to be a rant is a mild understatement. I used the service provided by this organisation in good faith, noting that some of my personal details would be passed on for the purpose of providing home insurance quotes. What I didn't realise was that they would also pass on my bloody telephone number to ALL of the companies on their bloody contact list. The top-ranked quote (which didn't fit the bill), then rang me. I then tried to ring them back, to find that although their answering machine message said that they were open at the time they rang, they weren't, even though they'd just rung ME, in the middle of eating my evening meal. You only need to read the blog to understand a) why that's a crime in my lexicon and b) why I'm so pissed off. Here's the email I sent:

The fact that my telephone number has been passed to all participant organisations, WHATEVER your protestations

"Additionally, Gocompare.com and other carefully selected third parties may use your information to keep you informed by post, telephone, SMS or email about current and new products and services which may be of interest to you."

Which basically means that you can do what you want with my data is unsustainable as a defence, as I was contacted at an exceptionally inconvenient time causing personal injury as I upset extremely hot olive oil, over my hand for the purpose of asking me why I had not chosen Kwikfit. This type of call is neither covered by your privacy statement nor sustainable in a court of law.

Kindly notify all participants in your scheme that they are NOT entitled to contact me without my express permission.

(By the way my skin is very fair, so those red bits on the tops of my fingers and thumb and top joints are all deep olive oil scalds.)

Am I going to pursue this. Oh yes, it took me 5 years to stop nuisance calls, to protect my identity from identity theft, finally, and I still have a folder 2" thick with the letters relating to this. Utterly irresponsible to pass on unrequired information and utterly contrary to the DPA. You've probably guessed that I'm the DPA officer for my company and I would have blue fits before allowing what this site is doing.

Prawn and Avocado Tagliatelle

I must confess to throwing this meal together after reading a few internet recipes and looking at what I'd got in various cupboards - I can't stand waste and I had a slightly over-ripe avocado to use up! So just in case you have some cheap prawns and an avocado...


Ingredients

• 200 gr cleaned prawns
• 1 tsp chili powder
• 1 chopped chili
• 1 tsp finely chopped ginger
• 1 clove of garlic pureed or sliced
• 1 tbsp of tomato puree
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 4 oz Tagliatelle
• 1 tsp white wine vinegar
• 1 avocado
• 1 tbs chopped fresh basil
• 1 handful of sliced carrots
• 1 handful asparagus tips
• Loads of Parmesan (see the photo!)
• Salt and pepper (lots of the latter, little of the former) to taste

Method:

• Cook Tagliatelle how you like it and whilst that goes on:
• Rinse and drain the prawns.
• Mix chili powder, tomato puree, garlic, ginger and olive oil in a bowl.
• Cut avocado and remove pit. Scoop it out of the shell and put it into the bowl, get a hand blender and add vinegar and puree until smooth.
• Microwave with clingfilm over the top (with holes!) for about 1 minute, making sure the clingfilm doesn't touch the ingredients!
• Put 1 tbsp of water into a microwave dish, add the carrots and asparagus tips and microwave for about 4 minutes at full 850 power.
• Add to the bowl and then very briefly pulse the hand blender to make smaller the carrot.
• Add the prawns and simply leave til the pasta is done. Decent cooked and peeled prawns don't need cooking, just warming through. It's not necessary to have them hot for this dish.
• When pasta is done drain, put on a plate, put the prawn and avocado mix on top, sprinkle Parmesan to taste and eat.

I really, really liked this - so much so I had to hurriedly rush up stairs (and for me that's a sacrifice - see other posts) and grab my camera to take a shot and then scribble down the recipe thereafter, before the slumber on the wine-soaked sea overwhelmed the night-time brain! I wonder what this weekend's invention test will be - I'll be lucky if it turns out as well!

Channel 4 Programming Rant

Since the beginning of last week (9th November) my early morning routine has been destroyed by the removal from the Channel of the repeat of the programme at about 6.00 a.m. This was the ideal time for me as it was light, fun and a good way to get my brain going for the day. 5 times a week I arranged my life to accommodate this and now it's stopped - I'm devastated. It had everything to get my brain going in the morning; not the least of which was the challenge of trying to beat the contestants (which most of the time I did - courtesy of having lived 10 years with a truly immense Scrabble player (entered the nationals twice, once winning it and the other coming fourth).



So, for the first time in my life I've complained about a TV programme - or rather the lack of it. I guess it won't affect anyone else and it may bring me further back into line with the rest of the human race by allowing my body clock to move round by an hour! Channel 4 have been trying to dump Countdown (God knows why - some hairy, spotty little oik of a 'creative' executive thinks it doesn't fit the Channel's 'image', no doubt), as they've been bouncing it around the early morning schedules so that the start time varies by about 45 minutes. But I'd got used to checking the schedule. Sigh.

16th November: That was fast! All credit to Channel 4, they responded very quickly, even if they did think I was complaining about the re-scheduling of The Treacle People (!?!) - having cleared up what I was ranting about, they told me that it wasn't being repeated because of a scheduling decision.

Really, what can one say? Of course it's not being shown because of a scheduling decision - asinine numbskulls. Did they think that I thought they'd mislaid it? "Oh, terribly sorry and thank you for pointing out that we'd forgotten to include it in the schedule at that point." Plonkahs.

And what has usurped the position? St Elsewhere - what appears to be a very dreary soap shot in monochrome, it looks like a sort of House without the edge of seat anarchy and humour. Not what I want to wake up to on a cold winter's morning. They tell me that they've passed me complain on to the person responsible. Oh yeah ;-(

Fimbulwinter approaches

It must be something about the onset of winter; the last of my flowers (a poppy, no less) has bitten the dust and leaves are turning squelchy with the rain. The instinct is to hibernate, but the way work is going at the moment I can see no end to endless activity (unsurprisingly). And for those of us fortunate enough to be in work, that's what's happening. More and more actitivity and stress for the same money. It's nice to be valued and have a responsible position, but 50+ working hours a week is wearing when it's paired with perennial health problems.

So, I thought I'd blog a quick NHS rant/update; those who've read In the hall of the mountain king below will know that I have a blocked artery in my right leg (amongst other cardio-vascular problems). Following the sonogram I was told to make an appointment with my GP a week later, so that he could then refer me on to a clinical specialist. I made it a fortnight later, as I have no faith in the speed of the NHS.

Turn up for the appointment: Dr: "...and what can I do for you". Me: "Well I was rather hoping you'd have the results of my sonograms and were going to relay them to me." "Were they sent here?" Can you believe that question, how would I really know? The nurse could've eaten them for all I know. "I was told that they would be." "I'll get my secretary to search for them - they've probably gone to the dermatology department." "Should I call you." "No, I'll get her to call you." "And what about the referral?" "Oh, I can't do that without the notes." And that was two weeks ago. It's now 4 clear months since the condition forced me to go to the surgery, we have now managed to get a diagnosis; treatment, I feel, might be a while coming. (I tried to call whilst typing this 'We're closed this afternoon for staff training'...)

During this time I've been stuck full of needles (two kinds of 'flu jab - and boy the swine flu jab really does have some side effects), had blood drawn, told my blood pressure's high. (What a surprise!) Am I being wound up? Oh yes; especially when the nurse with the needles keeps saying "All right, my love?". I know I have short grey hair, but I'm not in the "I'm only 90 crowd" yet. And she cannot possibly fancy me! I'm still waiting for the calls back on the sonograms/referral, the blood tests (5 types) and the urine test.

14th November: And more... I went home early yesterday, mainly because I feel pretty unwell at the moment. I know this seems weird, but with all the other health stuff I feel discomfort or pain, but I very rarely feel unwell. But the swine flu jab is, well, a bit of a swine. I keep getting the symptoms of flu, but not all at the same time. So variously volleys of sneezes, the shivers, aches in the joints, blocked ears, runny nose and just generally feeling awful. A nurse told me that that was a 'good thing'... And now the letter has come through which tells me that they've at last consulted within the Dermatology department and referred it back to the surgery. But it's obvious from the dates that my Doctor's secretary has contacted them and they've found my results and realised they've sat on them for the best part of a month; time to box clever - send the results back to a different Doctor in the same practice! As for recommending treatment, they effectively suggest doing nothing unless I don't get better! So, that's 22 appointments with nurses, 4 appointments with Doctors, 3 appointments with hospitals to establish that there is a problem, it's not trivial and their recomendation is to do nothing.

And my wretched body clock which has become tied to European time, means that I get up at about 6 in the morning. That doesn't help. So I took the camera out in the hope of give you a feeling of just how early I do my supermarket shopping:

The American import

It's one of those odd things that sometimes you find your attitudes to some things are different to most other people's feelings. I can't stick Halloween: I believe it's partly because of my age (didn't exist when I was young) and also my parents who hated things American. But also because it is an American festival and is used by kids (don't have any, don't want any) to beg things that they shouldn't eat. Older thugs go for money, instead. I give the next door neighbour's kids' parents sweets to give to their kids when they think it's right. But I won't stop what I'm doing to answer the door because someone wants to beg something from me.

I hate appearing mean or being unpleasant to people, especially small children, so the whole thing fills me with an anxiety which is really hard to explain to anyone else. I actually retire from the front part of the house so that I'm not put in that position. Gangs of kids who cause all sorts of havoc in the area (like the ones who chucked a stone through my patio door costing me £780 to replace - what a jolly wheeze), but are not my immediate neighbours, are given licence to wander around begging (with a degree of menace which is only tempered when they see how big I am). And in previous years the avaricious nature of both children and parents was transparent. This wasn't universal; but I live on the borderlands here and the majority believe they have a right to do this, which I don't.

But what's really horrible is that it extends the period in which people feel enabled to let off fireworks, so that around here the wild and tame creatures are terrorised after dark by all the whistles and bangs for about three weeks instead of two. Cats especially can't be kept inside on a permanent basis. There's a phrase which is both mindless and illiberal which is 'it's only a bit of fun', which apologists for this imposition use. If it didn't impose itself on me and the innocent creatures (the pets around here and the wild creatures in the fields beyond) then fine, but it does and it is for that reason indefensible.

Masterchef the Professionals, the Professionals (seriatim)

I have a theory about Masterchef the Professionals. It's that the TV format is rapidly overwhelming the presenters and the contestants with its rigid structure; a straightjacketed approach to language that turns them all into repetitious caricatures of themselves. None of them says the F word (in complete contrast to Gordon WTF Ramsay) and the contestants are generally driven into repeating the same hackneyed phrases. Surely there must be some little imp of mischief in them that isn't so overwhelmed with the desire to be successful that they want to say, something not in the script:

Steve: "I want this so much, it's giving me the horn"
Daniel: "That was a belter! Howay the lads!"
Marianne: "You're only as good as your last man - err, sorry, meal"

Mark you, this does lead on to some inevitable thoughts of what the presenters could be in the cartoon version: Gregg the Veg Wallace as Shrek, Michel Roux as The Mekon, Monica Galetti as Miss Whiplash, all let loose in a bizarre attempt to ensure culinary domination of the planet Earth. In order to achieve their ends the entice upcoming chefs into appearing on the show so that they can instill in them Mind Control using Endless Repetition. Poor Daniel would have to be Mr Potato out of Toy Story, Steve would be the Pilsbury Dough Boy and Marianne would, with that voice, have to be Miss Moneypenny.

Evidence of the Mind Control is manifest, as is the patronising dumbing down for what they perceive as the American market. But even Americans can't be that stupid, surely. And we certainly aren't (apart from the crepuscular, politically naive and mentally deficient idiots who vote for the BNP). I've been recording some of the programmes and editing out the inessentials at the start. 5 out of the 45 minutes at the start of each show. Add to that the vacuous way Shrek repeats what Michel says and you could cut a further 5 minutes out.

And speaking of vacuous, self-parody, did no-one else become fed up with Gelatto saying "Chef Michel would..." "I wouldn't serve that to Chef Michel...". It's as though she carried round MRJ's toque on a velvet cushion.

Finally, in this rant, I have to say that some of the early contestants were truly terrible; what really sticks in the mind is the very first heat where one of the tests was spatchcocking* a chicken. I've never done this, but I'd know better then to cut the inoffensive little bird into pieces - rather defeats the point. But tonight's showing of the final should be interesting - my money's on Steve, the others have improved a lot, but his culinary creativity is what's really inspiring.

* I can't stand the American spellchecker on this thing... and it doesn't know how to spatchcock a chicken either, it now wants me to 'supercharge' it!

In the Hall of the Mountain King

This post is mainly to explain some of the silence (I'd planned to slow posts down to 1 a week anyway...) but those that have read my previous post on the NHS will know that I have some considerable concerns.

I'm currently in the hands (claws?) of the NHS. Being an ex-smoker (I gave up just over 20 months ago) it turns out that I've probably done so to late. The NHS is sometimes farcical, but at least you don't have to pay for most of the farce. On Monday I had a specialist dermatology appointment and on Wednesday I had what seemed beforehand to be an irrelevant ultrasound doppler test of my veins and it turns out, not so irrelevant test of my arteries.

I spent an hour waiting for my appointment (1st of the day) - it turned out that the sonographer had got steamed up over an email and felt she had to send some of her own. I live in amazement at the ability of the people in the NHS to be artlessly honest with their patients! But she was excellent at her job and, apart from putting her probe in some places for which I would have worn different underwear, she was quick, accurate and efficient once she started using the kit. (The picture here is of very similar equipment, although the Phillips version used to my mind looks better than its US equivalent.)

So it turns out that one of the arteries in my right leg is 100% blocked and probably has been for some time. I'm due back to see the doctor in about 10 days for the results; it'll involve another hospital visit to see a specialist to determine whether 1) they do nothing, 2) they stick a stent in or, 3) they strip a piece of tube from somewhere/use a piece of plastic tube and replace the area that is blocked. The latter two involve surgery and I believe general anaesthsia... Oddly, I'm not miserable, as I've been on and off ill with various things for three years.

But the oddest thing about this is, is that the regime I've been following for vein/ulcer problems (leg up, compression) is the reverse of what is required for arterial problems. The compression stockings I've been using are both expensive and uncomfortable and I've bought £300 of these over the last 3 years (the NHS will prescribe just 2 pairs of these). You need a lot more than two pairs, unless you can be arsed to change and hand wash continuously throughout the remainder of your life.

The weirdest thing is that, as a bloke, I've actually become used to religiously putting the damned things on first thing in the morning and taking them off last thing at night. A process that is both painful and uncomfortable. So, I'm now being told that the £300 and the continued discomfort and pain have all been the wrong thing to do.

Sigh. However, I'm not blaming the NHS - partly because I've largely shot myself in the foot (*groan*) by having been a determined smoker and partly because without the test it is not immediately apparent as the vein damage. Anyway, all these appointments have rather sapped the will to blog, but I thought I'd reassure my regular reader(s) that I will resurface from time to time!

Homage to Jethro

All along the front of my bit of the Close, all of the front gardens have been paved over and turned into parking. It started some time back, but I was trying hard not to succumb to the 'let's pave it over' syndrome. Although, the front lawn was always difficult to keep in order, to put it mildly, as over the years it had slowly but surely gained the aspect of a miniature Himalayas. This is a natural progression from the original flat stuff...

I did get it re-laid to lawn, but I don't know which field they found the turf to cut it from, but it was on its way to wild before ever it got to me; I then tried getting a semi-permeable membrane down with gravel on top and sand underneath, but the little turds (sorry, children) across the Close from me would raid the snow in winter, throwing the gravel with it all over the place and creating really nasty snowballs with it*. So, when a mixed group of Irish managers, and Polish and East German workers offered a cut-price deal to pave it, I foolishly said yes (and put like that I STILL can't believe I got pressured into it - moi!)

But I insisted on two things: that the outside soakaway drain wasn't paved over (but they nearly managed this - picture a large and very angry houseowner screaming at a foreign labourer without English to stop, cease, arretez, verboten, polizei and some less creditable foreign words I have picked up in my wanderings). The second was that the bed with the poppy and other wild flowers (mainly bluebells in Spring) be left on the edge so that excess rainwater could drain into the water table.

There are two reasons for this, the first is that the continued paving of the surface area increases the amount of rainfall in the SE of England that is not entering the water table, but being expensively routed through drains to streams and thence to the sea. That b'ain't be good for the land, Jethro.

But the main one is that I sort of think that I'm a custodian of that poppy bush; now that the rest is paved it's come on leaps and bounds. It starts flowering in about early May and as of 30th September, it is still massively in flower and will stay that way, in spite of frosts until the strong winds late on in October. I didn't plant it, but I think it's beautiful and the stunning mass of flowers it produces over such a long period mean it owes me absolutely nothing. And if I'd paved all the front garden over, then I wouldn't be greeted during the Summer and Autumn months every time I get home by this sight. which SO makes me smile. And I look at the paved wasteland of the other house fronts and feel, oh, so, smug!

And yes I do like their music, Ian Anderson's manic flute especially!

*Hmm. And that was not the only problem with gravel - I like cats, but there is a very large population of them [about five or six of them patrol out front] and although they weren't keen on gravel it beat block paving and concrete for taking a dump on. Deterrents were not effective.

The age of the booze cruise has not passed

I've just about recovered from my efforts on Saturday. One of the few remaining pleasures I have is 3 or so glasses of wine of an evening and I can afford this on my limited income by travelling to France once every while to stock up on booze.

People have said 'Surely, it's no longer worth it'. Believe me it is, but it does depend on where you shop. What are the costs? Well, the worst is you basically lose a Saturday - I get up about 5-5.30 a.m., have coffee and get my bits together and then travel the 130 miles to Folkestone, get the earliest tunnel crossing offered, go to Carrefours and buy my stuff, go back to the tunnel and drive back. I use the tunnel to eat and have a short nap and get back by 3.00 pm, which gives me time to rack (where appropriate) the wine and clear rubbish from the car and I'm normally OK to prepare and cook my meal in the evening. Which is why no photos; pardon the pun, I'm a bit driven on a trip like this as it's purely cost-saving and photos of hypermarkets and terminals are not pretty.

Carrefours at Cité d'Europe is currently where the cheapest reasonable VdP or VdT (Vin de Pays or Vin de Table) is and I buy 4-5 cases of what went OK last time (1 or less Euros a bottle), 2-3 cases of more reasonable stuff (about 1.5-2.5 Euros a bottle) and 1 case of mixed 'treats' and tasters of new VdP and VdT so that I have a better idea next time round as to what might be reasonable. I also buy a few cheeses, cheap French coffee (about a dozen packets of ground coffee for my pot of morning coffee - I drink a mug, put the rest in a thermos and take to work so I don't have to drink the instant rubbish - this works out at 10P a day). If you use large quantities of dried herbs, (I use a lot of Herbes de Provence) then it's a good place to buy those in France. I also like Amora Dijon mustard and it's about half the price in France.

This time round I bought 115 bottles and, even assuming the cheapest current UK price (not likely) of £3.50 a bottle that would be £402.50. I actually paid £172 for the total bill, including the coffee and mustard, £26 in petrol and £63 for the crossing. So I saved £141.50. Normally I'd use my Tesco clubcard points for effectively an £18 crossing (4 to 1 exchange on the tokens), saving another £45, but I wasn't sure when the Royal Mail strikes would kick in.

Sadly, when the pound was stronger, the saving was even greater, but don't let anyone convince you that you can't save money doing this! Put it a different way, I bought 115 bottles of wine for £2.26. My personal indulgence of an evening costs me £1.20, say, which is less than the cost of half a pint of bitter.

Oh the horror

In the Grauniad online there is a fascinating image gallery worth a look, if only because the images are truly horrible. I can't post the actual images, for the very good reason that they are copyright, but believe me I am giving you the link to the one of most horrible things I've ever seen.

If you saw the first episode of Masterchef the professionals recently, you will have seen four experienced chefs mangle [spatchcock] a baby chicken almost beyond recognition - now I know where they went after the show - And here's the original and rather fascinating blog from whence the pictures came! Thank you (I think) Tracy O'Connor.

Enjoy!

My chilli stalwart

When it's going to be a hard week (i.e. more than 50 hours of labour, no breaks, a little webbing, but otherwise constant work) I make this comfort food. We all have 'standby' meals that we cook because they're easy, cheap and tasty. The advantage of this recipe is that it is cheap (saves money for other meals and ingredients) and freezes well. This is tasty, and reasonably nutritious (with veg) costing abut £1.75 per portion with all in.

The following is plenty for 4-5 people. I tend to eat, reheat and eat again and re-freeze the remaining portions.

Ingredients

• 800 grammes minced meat (quality not crucial)
• 1 small tin of tomato puree
• 1 large tin of kidney beans
• 1 large tin of baked beans
• Garlic puree or 4 cloves fresh finely chopped garlic (optional, but recommended)
• Mixed herbs (I tend to use Herbes de Provence)
• Half a bunch (15g) of chopped coriander
  
• 2 or 3 large (2-3" long) green chillis
  
• 18 narrow chillis (these are the thin ones, short stubby ones)
  
• 3 small or 2 medium Onions
• 1 Pepper (entirely optional - nowadays I don't bother)
  
• About 4-6 medium size quartered mushrooms
• Black ground pepper
• You do not use salt in this recipe!
• A large casserole which you can use on the hob

Preparation (if you're working on your own, it's best to
do all of the prep first:)

• Chop the onions fairly roughly
  
• De-seed the green chillis, cut in half lengthways and finely slice
  (approx 1/8")
• Finely slice the small chillis, until you get to the bulk of the seedcase, discarding the heads, but keeping the seeds
• De-seed and chop up the pepper into chunks
  
• Open the tins, drain the kidney beans
• Thoroughly wash your hands! (Don't blame me if you don't!)
  

Method:

• Fry the mince meat, and then drain off any fat after the mince has browned.
• Add the chopped vegetables, garlic, chillies and keep turning the mixture
• Add about 1 tbsp or slightly more of either herbes, about 1 tsp of black pepper, add the fluid and contents of the tins and about four squirts of garlic puree.
• Keep mushing until thoroughly mixed in.
• Transfer to the oven on gas mark 4 (180 degrees cent.) for about 1 hour.
• ...Tomorrow
• Chop up mushrooms add to the chilli and then heat at gas mark 3
  (150 degrees cent.) for about 1 hour. Serve with Basmati rice and veg.

In the photo above (taken 23rd September evening) there's a leek in the rice and a couple of carrots

Let there be soup!

In return for all the recipés I've seen and researched (I must get round to adding Andy Oliver's excellent blog to the list), I add my own humble contribution; you'll note below that I've already said what a p**s poor photographer I am, so please forgive.

Things You'll Need: * Potatoes – about 1lb roughly the size of ½" – 3/4 " cubes
* Water to cover – with Salt to taste (0-2 natural, but not too much)
* 1 bay leaf
* 1 clove of garlic (optional) – or in my case, a flat teaspoon of pureed garlic
* 1 yellow or white onion
* 2 stalks of celery
* 1 large mild chilli (that's optional)
* 1 cup of chicken stock
* milk or cream (optional)
* white or black pepper to taste
* a little butter or oil
* A large, heavy-bottomed stew or casserole dish
* A frying pan
* a spoon for stirring
* a sharp knife and cutting board

Ingredients: For chicken stock - I don't cook whole chickens as I can't use one and so my stock is packet stock - here it is Knorr, which is reasonable and inexpensive...

The kettle is hiding a water filter - otherwise the kettle would last about 6 months here. More importantly, the water would have horrid limescale in it...

The spuds on the hob - I use dried bay leaves as they're fine and an occasional ingredient and lo-salt is a necessary evil *sigh* A quick thought, but if you're not planning to blitz this to a paste, then leave as much of the skins on as you can, as that will add both vitamins and texture...

1. Prepare the spuds and place them into the pot and add the salt (I use lo-salt, courtesy of high blood pressure), a bay leaf and just enough water to cover. Add the garlic at this time if you are using it. I use some caterer's purée, which is pretty damned powerful, but don't substitute garlic salt [thereby hangs a tale of cooking for three gorgeous girls, and using garlic and celery salt to substitute for the lack of the real thing and one of them ate it and said she enjoyed it! and no reader, I married one of the other girls - she was wife number 1] I'm better now, promise! Put the lid on and bring the potatoes and water to a boil, then remove the lid and reduce the heat so the potatoes are simmering gently, uncovered.

2. Chop the onion and the celery into pieces about half a finger thick and ½" long. Finely slice the chilli, seeds and all, if you don't like it leave it out, but this recipe is pretty bland without this and add the chilli, celery and onion to some melted olive oil in the frying pan – you can use butter, but I can't eat this quantity in one go and intend to freeze it, so butter won't work as well. Saute this on medium heat until soft, and even a little brown at the edges, but at the first sign of browning remove from the heat. Don't worry if there's more, provided it's only the edges. Set them aside until the potatoes are done.

3. When the potatoes are cooked, but not flouring (i.e. of their own accord becoming one with the remaining water), take a hand blender (I use the mighty Dualit [advt] because it's less than half the price of the Bamix and is really tough and effective). On the lowest setting blend half the water and potato (after removing the bay leave). Then, add the onion and celery mixture to the pot, deglaze the pan with the cup of stock and add that too. Put the lid on and on the lowest heat. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Let simmer for about 20-25 minutes.

Then if you must, add milk or cream to make the soup white and soupy. Once the milk or cream has been added, DON'T ALLOW IT TO BOIL! (another reason I don't do this – on re-heating in the microwave it can go, freezer > microwave > strain into sink > throw into bin).

The milk or cream will curdle and you'll have something foul to get rid of. And yes, I know it was 11.00 a.m. but I was having a hard job to remember to take photos, do/adjust the recipe as I went along; so I had a Floyd moment and opened a Pinot Grigio from Chile...

4. You can serve the soup now, as is, or you can embellish it in various ways. I intend to try this with some dried cheese as they now call the unofficial Parmesan substitute, or if you use enough to warrant buying it, reheat and then sprinkle Parmesan on top (much better, I grant you but £1.55 for a garnish is a bit rich for my budget).

This is actually a very flexible recipe – this is just my take on it. I love cooking - didn't start properly until I was 40 and sometimes bitterly regret that I didn't realise what an absolute pleasure it is.

Memories of Havana

The last post inspired me to have a look at the languishing site to see if there was anything I could nick to add in, so, apropos of nothing really apart from memories of Havana, I thought I'd upload one of the few decent photos I've taken (that's ever, folks).

It's a courtyard where there are shops all around and places where you can get a beer, a coffee and also buy other stuff as well. What you can't see is the stunning heat and humidity outside. This place was an oasis and the trees growing in this totally enclosed courtyard (the buildings went all round) were lovely and green. Cuba is very productive in terms of plants, but Havana itself is so built up that many of the gardens are a bit seedy and run down as is much of Havana (courtesy of the embargo on trade with the USA), but this place is a little haven.

The people are genuine and really nice, most of them, but the population is split between those who are really proud of the revolution and its results, and those who want the luxuries of the capitalist system. Whatever the best course for the country, there is no denying that pre-revolution the country was prey to American big corporations and organised crime and that the exploitation on a national and individual scale amounted almost to slavery (and before someone says I was brainwashed, I thought that before I went).

14th November: Just installing a new printer so wanted to print something different and on the 'tour' of Havana, we paid for an individual guide rather than do the bus and loudhailer crap. It wasn't expensive and you get to talk to soemone real. Also, when you fancy a break from the routine trip to se the national monuments, the library, the capitol, you can insist on going somewhere more interesting. In this case, I said I wanted a Mojito, whereupon our guide, Marta, took us to this rooftop bar for one in Hemingway's favourite bar. (I could hear the inverted commas, so asked "How many favourite bars did he have?", "Oh, all of them!" accompanied by a wicked smile - she'd already got the measure of my rather cynical view of life!)

It shows some of the real poverty that exists in Cuba and how the country could really do with a normalisation of relations with the rest of the world, especially the USA. You know where the tourist compains that there's building work going on near the hotel, well here you can't avoid it really as bits of Havana are decaying at a pace, but with great style and grandeur!

A voyage through Inner Space

It's an odd thing. A while back there I was a website designer... more because I was the only one in the company with an adjective and a noun to rub together than because of any immense aptitude. Because of this I was inspired (is that the right word?) to create my own website*.

And how laborious it was - learning Fireworks, Dreamweaver, ACDSee, checking links, stopping the software using absolute rather than relative paths... Lord, Lord. And blogger gives you all that with a few clicks; it's a bit straight-line, but it does not get in the way of getting pen to paper. Or print to whoever might want to read it.

It may be that one person, it may be millions (unlikely) who read this... I don't care, because I learnt when publishing a 'zine, that the act of writing, more subtly than you realize, is a voyage through your own mind. You may go places, see things, taste things, but when you report them to other people they come through the filters of your own senses, preconceptions and paraphernalia of consciousness (more or less approximate after 4 glasses of wine). The point of saying this is that: looking through some back issues of my 'zine, held on line by some public-spirited souls, I realised that what you write is a snapshot of what sits at the heart of the filters at that time and place. Not only for other people, but also for yourself once you are transmuted by the passage of time.

In a very real sense, although we make fleeting contact, we bloggers are as much intranauts as we are voyaging to other people, should we realise it.

*This now languishes partly because of Orange [spit] freezing the old Freeserve addresses and, what's worse, not allowing edits so you can't even put a link to the new site! I only found that out after deleting the content (it allows that, ho yus) to create space for links to my new site, which I wasn't able then to make! (For those that haven't a phrase for the above, it's the style of writing called "stream of unconsciousness".)

Appointment with Destiny

Does your life intersect with the NHS? No? Do you have dealings with the PCT and the inaptly named PALS. Then you're either below a certain age or you lead a healthy lifestyle. Personally, I don't and I'm over 55 - I gave up smoking way too late, but I still drink 3-4 glasses of wine of an evening and am entirely sedentary in my pursuits... a lifetime of reading, eating, drinking, cooking and playing games (both board and video) will eventually ensure that mere survival dictates that you make the increasing acquaintance of doctors, nurses and surgeries and hospitals.

The latest crop of unpleasantness stems from following the advice of a really good district nurse at my local doctor's surgery: come back at the first sign of a potential problem - they're much easier to deal with then. Well, I booked an appointment with the 'ulcer clinic' only to find out that the PCT in its wisdom had decided that district nurses would now only visit those who couldn't make it to the surgery. So the combined wisdom, experience and knowledge of these excellent people was at a stroke removed from the surgery (both doctor's and practice nurses referred and relied on them to deal with the specialised area of leg problems due to poor circulation). That was unbelievable enough.

I have complained bitterly about this, the surgery agrees with me, the practice manager getting involved, three separate doctors; three of the practice nurses - we're all in agreement. The PCT, refers my complaint to a PALS officer, who says they've passed my complaint on to someone who's on holiday. That's 5 weeks ago.

Consequently, no-one in the surgery was able to diagnose the venous eczema I had developed. And so after two weeks of increasing strength anti-biotics, the nurse admitting she was out of her depth, the doctors that they didn't have a clue, I was referred to the Dermatology clinic at the local hospital (a 3.5 hour hole in the working day). So, this money-saving wheeze of not having the district nurses have a practice based clinic resulted in palliative care and a delay of three weeks, plus a hospital appointment with a dermatology consultant with two nurses in attendance led to? Now, I was committed to eight weeks of going twice a week to the practice surgery to have my legs unbandaged, washed, treated and rebandaged, before the repeat hospital appointment to assess how far I'd got. There's a saving for you.

Bear in mind that I work from about 7.30 in the morning to 5.30 at night and each of these appointments is at least 2 hours out of the office... and then in the middle of this, I get a letter telling me that I have to go to yet another hospital. Also, that I have to go home, removed my own bandages, wash my legs and wrap them in clingfilm, put socks over this, drive for an hour, find somewhere to park, have tests undertaken, drive back for an hour and then have another appointment (which I was to make, knowing full well that the surgery can't and is turns out won't be able to fit me in) for about 30 minutes for the salves and bandages to be replaced at the doctor's surgery, because the hospital wouldn't do this. [At hearing this, well... common decency binds my typing fingers from the acid-soaked profanity that would otherwise eat it's way the screen.] So we can estimate that I would be missing from the office for 4.5 - 5 hours. And these tests can be done by any competent nurse. Every time I think about this I go incandescent with rage.

I really, really do feel like Victor Meldrew: I really, really don't believe it. The advice that I should get a friend (most of whom work and thus would have to take at least half a day's annual leave to help) or a member of my family (either dead or not talking) to drive me around, is so asinine...

All of the above, after the initial clinical problem, was mainly caused by managerial decisions being taken about clinical practice. What's worse is that it also exposes a level of internecine strife between the front-line staff at the surgery and the hospitals who seem to want to make things efficient by passing the shitty jobs back to the surgery and getting the patient to do the legwork in between. The surgery resist and simply say that they won't do it, which leaves me somewhere between the two with my legs wrapped in fucking clingfilm. Sigh. And the story is not finished yet.

Thus passes a giant

Just a quick note in the blog to record my sadness and admiration for Keith Floyd who has now left the building; although he has gone in the best way possible - after an excellent dinner and a few glasses of decent wine, falling asleep and not waking up - you always hoped there would be another series. Personally I was hoping for one in modern-day rural France.

His ability to get across his passion, enthusiasm and delight in cooking, in strange places, made for riveting television; he turned me from being someone who cooked when he had to, to someone who resented it when he had to let someone else cook. He inspired me, along with those two other great eccentrics, the Two Fat Ladies, to simply have a go and rely on my instincts, which has proved to be a godsend.

Now later in life, that interest in and enjoyment of food and cooking remains one of those unsullied and untouched delights that brightens the darkening days. And that a lot of what he called a*******s are also presenting shows about food helps to fill the time when I'm not cooking, eating or having a glass of wine. Thanks and RIP, Keith Floyd.

Wow, a bland-reading recipe that's tasty!

OK, OK - I admit it, I'm a slob in the kitchen (apart from keeping it reasonably clean) and with a long working week and time-consuming health niggles, I tend to go for the easy recipes which can be cooked once and eaten two/three times courtesy of the freezer and the microwave. But above all, there must be some prospect of enjoying it.

I go to France 3-4 times a year; no longer as stunningly cost-effective now that I've given up smoking, but still brilliant savings on wine (£1.50 a bottle, x 12 per case x 10 cases makes a saving of [cocks ear] yes that's right - for those that don't play darts or use calculators that's £180; even with the cost of the petrol and crossing, it's still a saving of at least £90, and that's ignoring the fact that I can't get my cheap, decent French breakfast coffee except at a cost of an extra £1.50 a packet and Amora dijon mustard - may not be grainy, but ghods it's good). Anyway, the point of this wittering is to point to something I've just prepared, cooked and eaten which is looks bland from the recipe (I did add a little sliced chili, but no garlic, in spite of temptation) but which is really tasty and filling - a chicken and white haricot bean stew...

Oh, and the reason for the French trip was that I purchased a 600 ml jar of said haricots on my last French trip for about a £1 and am far, far to mean to throw food away!

What a sauce!

I went looking for a review site to moan about a very expensive sauce I've just used. Not digested yet (if ever!), Loyd (how poncey is that, a single 'l') I'm talking about Grossman's Green & Black Peppercorn Sauce. I largely take Saturday off from cooking apart from some good ingredients and a decent pre-prepared sauce.

Now I'm used to them not being as good as I cook myself, but I bought this stuff at £2.08 this morning with a use by date of somewhen in 2010. Yes, next year... The steak was one of Tesco's finest (not that that means a huge amount, but it promises 28 days hanging) - it wasn't brill, but serves me right for not going to a decent butcher (1st find one near Aylesbury)...

The additions were some properly sauteéd potatoes with crispy onion rings and microwave-steamed green beans and carrots. Note: even on my idle days I like to be able to eat what I cook, and I can do that well. I went looking for a black pepper and cream sauce. The only thing which looked like it was one of these LG things. I've never had one before, but after all, the man wears glasses and promises that he's tasted these things?

Really ;-( I really, really doubt it - I microwaved as per the instructions exactly (I'm scrupulous on the first use of anything) and it was awful - I was able to scrape the semi-rancid crap off. I should know better - never buy a sauce which has a cream base and which says you can microwave it.

Oh, and as for flavour? 10 minutes with a pestle and mortar and some decent créme fraiche and capers and I would have achieved what I was after - teach me not to be so idle.