Blogging, Life and the Universe

Once upon a time we were wedded to our blogs. Followed others with great passion from the safety of anonymous keyboards though with a genuine sense of care and affection. Then we move on and what happens to those bloggers, what happened to me?

At least two of those bloggers have passed on, one I knew in real life. My children are adults and live independently. Mr Doris and I celebrate 20 years with a renewed vigour that has taken some determination and effort. Friendships have evolved and careers have taken extraordinary changes. My father has a mixed dementia and after a year of intensive support we admitted him to a care home for his safety. Sometimes he is completely with it and shouldn't be in a care home and sometimes he is on another planet. He found a new woman to love, she too has dementia. He has never smiled and laughed as much as he did this past year, but they are now in different care homes because society can not cope as they may want to sleep in the same bed and cuddle.

Emotionally I am in the best place I have ever been. I now work for myself, in my own treatment room at home doing things the way I want. I've expanded my offerings and with ease go from doing a beauty treatment to sessions of therapy using EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) or tapping. A variation of tapping: Matrix Reimprinting, has been really significant to me rewriting traumatic events from my childhood so that I am able to move on and feel as if I had the nourishment I should have had back then. Writing this blog was cathartic in its day and helped along with the other learnings along the way of life, but it has been the tapping which has been significant. Now I get to work with others and help them too with this incredible therapy.

In the past years Mr Doris and I have travelled, with significant travels and lots of little travels this year. In the past year Mr Doris has studied and changed career. With just a few years off 60 I'll go with him to his graduation in a few weeks. I thought I did well to change career in my late 40s but it seems we are never too old to learn new tricks.

The sun has been shining in the UK for a sustained period of time. How lovely it has been to not have to wear many clothes!

And then there is Facebook. I got into it late, embraced it and now have a problem with it. The less I do social media the happier I am. I clearly still have issues to work with and whilst I appreciate being able to know friends and family are alive and well, there is a point where I value my privacy and don't wish X who I met once upon a time to know what I commented on such and such post. Then we either get the "everything is fabulous, I am fabulous" posts or the "woe is me, you don't understand" posts. That is unfair of me I know, because there are really good bits and snippets and information and I love seeing baby pictures. So I relate this back to the blogging years and how Facebook feels in comparison. Blogging was more sedate and, for me, could be done almost anonymously. I liked that, a safe place to consider, ponder and share.

PS. Oh yes, and thirteen years to the month since I first blogged. I was late to blogging too!

The Railway Man

What a way to kick off my commitment to visit the cinema once a month this year with my delightful Mr Doris by going to an afternoon showing of a film on the very day of its release in the UK! I am not sure I have ever seen a film on its first day and am doubly delighted to find that by going to the afternoon showing it cost £6 per person rather than the £9 price tag of a cinema seat.

We have never been to this particular cinema which is an independent not too far away, with a very pleasant cafe although the coffee was a bit acrid. I had a bit of a sniffly nose that needed relieving (this is going to be relevant) and my darling went over to the stand and fetched me more than a few soft black napkins. I only needed one, then I used two more to dry my hands in the bathroom leaving me one that became very vital.

The screen size was more than decent as some cinemas have screens that feel like a slightly larger TV screen! We had a great view with no heads in front to interrupt our viewing pleasure.

The word "pleasure" is not one to associate with The Railway Man inasmuch as the storyline is based on a true story and deals with the really difficult subject of war and torture; its aftermath and latterly revenge, apologies and conciliation. I find gratuitous violence appalling and have walked away from a movie in the past rather than watch it but in this case the violence was relevant. It was brutal and I cried a lot during this movie. Interestingly I felt it was OK and not in the least bit sissy to be affected because this was about real events and viewers are meant to be affected.

In watching the film the only thing that really bugged me was how the central characters Eric Lomax played by Colin Firth, and the torturer Takashi Nagase looked only in their forties in the early 1980s when in my mind they would have been about 20 in 1942 and therefore should be at least in their 60s. Apart from that I wondered, like any film based on a real life story, how it was romanticised and in watching it I wondered what was true and what wasn't. Afterwards a bit of a read online reveals that Eric himself left his first wife and family out of his own autobiography! There is a very interesting article in the Guardian "The Railway Man's forgotten family: 'We were victims of torture too'" which brings me to the subject of the after effects of war not just directly on those involved but on descendants long after the event. This is not to compare or negate those war time experiences but equally the effects on descendants should not be dismissed either. I wrote a little on Remembrance which then links to another item I also wrote.

Our family lived in Singapore in 1966 which was just 24 years after the Japanese took over. I had never realised that nor the significance of Changi. I have just looked up our address and it was less than 25 minutes drive from Changi prison, but then again Singapore is a small island and everywhere is only a short distance. The war events in the film mainly take place in Thailand. Which leads me to another point in the film - the locations. The film starts off in the North West of England on trains of the early 1980s. I remember those old slam door carriages which all looked about right but I am not sure that they actually used Crewe Station as I have known that station for at least 20 years. As the train travelled along I am also not sure I felt that was actually England being shown or at least it was a not very good painting of a backdrop. There were scenes in Thailand with the mountains in the background and they too did not look real. I hate to be nit picky but some things are simple to get right.

Coming back to the film there is a point near the end when there is an apology. My tears flowed for the storyline and also for myself. For those events in my life where I have had an apology and been able to move on and those events where an apology never happened and can now never be. It just goes to show how far acknowledgement and apology can go in this world. A lesson we should all hold close.

Thank goodness for the extra long and sedate credits which enabled more than a few of us to compose ourselves and look a little less distressed. I am not sure what the next lot of cinema goers thought of us filing out all sombre.

I am glad I saw this film although it was incredibly upsetting.

Incognito blogging

Thank goodness for the unused Chrome browser on my computer when it came to showing my 16 year old niece how to set up a blog. When I tried to show her on my regular Firefox and then tried the IE I hope her eyesight did not catch the name of my blog url as it flashed up on the suggested list as I tried to enter the blogger url.

Then there is the whole way that Google has inveigled itself across our lives so that it is impossible to show anyone anything on one's own computer without revealing the pseudonyms I may chose to use. One can't do anything without first having a google email account. It is my computer and on the on the whole no-one uses it but at times like this I wish I kept things more discreet. Or at least, thank goodness for that Chrome browser.

As I started showing my young relative how to do things she soon asked me if I had a blog. A small white lie may have passed my lips as I'd rather keep the blog incognito and therefore open and honest which seems a contradiction.

Following on from the monthly outings I did last year with a friend and will continue this year, and from having a quick read of Boomtown Rap's Movie Reviews of 2013 and realising how little I go to the cinema, my dearest Mr Doris and I have resolved to go to the cinema once a month this year. At least once a month will be a huge increase for me as I have probably seen two "cinema" movies in the past two years and both of those will have been at our new pop-up community cinema and therefore late releases. Mr Doris has been out to see more but then his choices of films are not the same as mine and I'd hate to waste the ticket price so do not go. Knowing how much he would come with me to see a film I wanted to see then I have said I would do the same with some exceptions. There is no point me going to something with a lot of violence or horror or too much suspense as it would upset me too much. I know that films are generally a work of fiction but I am there, in the film, and am far too sensitive for anyone's good.

There have been other years where I have wanted us to go out somewhere every month, just the two of us, but it did not happen despite the best intentions. This does not mean we do not go out, just that we do not go out enough I feel. And as expensive as a cinema ticket is, it is still cheaper than going out for a meal. As long as I carry any drinks or snacks in my pockets. Unlike the gorgeous independent cinema near where we used to live that had comfy sofas and one could have a very reasonable coffee or tea in a china mug with a slice of homemade cake. I'm hoping we might find such a cinema near us once we put our mind to the whole cinema going malarkey.

Looking forward to 2014

Looking forward to 2014 requires reflection on the year that was. 2013 will forever be one of those significant years in my life. Not one of those years where the memory of it turns to mush in an oblivion of the same old tunes.

First and foremost this is a year about life and living and making the most and new possibilities and ever evolving. Ironically it took the death of a very close friend which was very painful and far too soon. When someone is given the diagnosis and prognosis it is hard to believe so that it is still a shock when it does happen. I still find it very hard to believe she is really gone and never coming back. Death seems so final, and yet there is something lasting in the memory that holds us close. That I can still talk to her in my head, and that, more importantly, she is talking back to me.

I can see her now, being tickled by what I have done and achieved this year.

The wheels have been in action for some years regarding selling our house and that completed at the end of January. Even though we sold at a loss I thought we would be rolling in it as a result of clearing our debts with the proceeds but curiously that has not been the end result which just goes to show how pathetic our income is and has been, though over the course of this year it has improved. I thought I would feel more with our debts being cleared though to be fair all that was rather overshadowed by my friend dying.

The beginning of the year saw my 50th birthday and a celebration. Not the really big event and dance I was originally planning but nevertheless a heartwarming and significant celebration of my landmark year. The beginning of the year also saw another friend and I commit to monthly outings to places one of us had never been and always wanted to go. We kept it up throughout the entire year and it has enriched my life feeling like I have done things and gone places. Unlike some years when one reflects on all the places one could have gone to but didn't, this feels like an achievement.

The early part of the year saw me making bread, something I had never done before, and here I was doing it really well. Creating and baking and putting the food of life on the table felt significant and enriching.

The spring time saw me take to running. Again, something I had never in my life managed before and certainly had no desire. Suddenly I could run for an hour and not need to stop nor be out of breath. Never mind the good feeling hormones that produces there is something in the psychology of feeling strong and who knows what else I might be capable of doing. In time the bread baking took a bit of a side step as there are just not enough hours in the day with fitting in work too. Those skills are not lost and I was thrilled to be able to whip up a Ciabatta on Christmas morning for our Antipasti starter.

Another thing that took a bit of a sideline this year was our allotment. Partly because it was so disappointing the few crops we produced for the amount of effort put in. Or perhaps it was a case of the preparation of the allotment gave me the greatest pleasure and we have lost our way a bit. Growing crops is such a learning curve and I wonder how much I really want to learn on that score.

We travelled to see old and loved friends in Germany and for the first time darling Mr Doris and I visited Berlin. A place I wanted to go since the 1980s and I was not disappointed. Driving a hire car past the landmarks of a great city felt like such an achievement.

At work I have been proving my worth and it was most satisfying in the day or so before Christmas to have my boss call me to one side and acknowledge what I do. Verbal appreciation does go a long way.

The kids are 24 and 19 years old and are way taller than me. They are also more appreciative. Not perfect or consistent by any means but a whole lot better. They are both making their own marks on the world and finding their way bit by bit which is really heartening.

My darling husband has held me close and yet enabled me to go and do all the things I've either needed or wanted to do this year. Sometimes I can see by the way he looks at me that he really appreciates me. We'll be coming up to fifteen years of being married in the year ahead which seems to me to be an anniversary worth celebrating.

I reckon 2014 will be a year of consolidation hopefully peppered with a few more new activities. One of which will be my returning to college one evening a week for sixteen weeks in order to extend my qualifications. Once again I will no doubt be the oldest girl in the beauty school and most likely older than the tutors again. Education always leads on to other things so who knows what may come of it.

Fingers crossed that my son is able to move out because he will be 20 and I do think he would benefit from the freedom of being in his own space. Yes, I know I will gain a room and we can spread out a bit which would also help a lot but it is more about what is right for him.

In 2014 I can see that our income is growing so that we are in a position to do more. I have cousins in Australia I have wanted to visit since being reunited in 2006 but I do not know if our finances are quite there yet.

There is a long run I would like to do which would entail me doing a whole lot more training. The run would take a number of days and involves running coast to coast. The idea excites me though equally I am happy to pace myself with that desire as I met someone who also took up running this year and already is out of running distances through permanent injury. I will be starting 2014 with my shoulder injury which is turning into a frozen shoulder - something that is not conducive to the busy working life that I have! Clearing that up will be significant too and blinking essential especially as I have not been running so as not to exacerbate it.

Here's to 2014 and all the unknown and yet to be discovered treasures of the year as well as consolidating all that 2013 has given.

Christmas Eve

There is that delightful time in the early afternoon when finally home with the last lot of shopping knowing that anything forgotten will now have to be managed without. The turkey has been botoxed with a marinade I have made from scratch and various other items from the menu have been prepared in advance. I keep making and cooking and dear Mr Doris keeps washing up after me and emptying the bins.

A simple dinner is now cooking. A dear friend arrived from London is zonked out on the sofa for a quick nap before our evening activities - Christmas carols and nibbles and mulled wine at my sister's house. Followed by the midnight service at our local church.

It is Christmas Eve and family and friends are close. The cooking is in hand, a merry warmth from Baileys in Hot Chocolate and all is good. Seasons Greetings!

Suck it to me baby

Could this be the day that I finally get on with clearing the decks rather than being distracted by cooking? Bit by bit, purchases in the post have brought the vacuum storage bags, the vacuum adapter that did not fit the vacuum, and finally a portable pump to do the job.

The task has begun of reducing the contents of our apartment by a sizeable amount into a series of vacuumed packages that can be easily accessed as required. Mr Doris thinks labelling the packages: eg. two pillows, single bed set with two pillows, single duvet; extra panel for double duvet; etc; might be sensible. I thought not. This morning I already can not remember which package is which. Methinks labelling has to be the way to go. Then rearrange things in our overfull bedroom so that they can be easily accessed yet are tucked away.

That is the plan if I wish to accept it, which I do. Then off to work for an afternoon and evening shift.

Christmas is a'coming and although I have done some great planning and action there is also much that is undone and could become a last minute panic if I do not get on with some basics.

Homemade baked cheescake for breakfast

It was more like 4am when I was wide awake so I made a cup of tea and tried another slice of the cheesecake I made yesterday in preparation for our Boxing Day feast. The idea is to mash it all up and to create tiny lollipops on sticks to freeze as part of the nibbles for the chocolate fountain.

This is the first time I have made a baked cheesecake and opted for the water bath/bain marie method. Two good sheets of foil seemed to do the trick with no breach of water into the loose bottomed pan. After cooling and refrigeration I couldn't help but try some last night and disappointed does not come anywhere close. The whole thing tasted wishy washy with a wet texture and yet looked firm and cooked, apart from the crust which looked wet right away. Mr Doris kept trying to put a positive spin on it calling it moist.

Which made me realise how much I like that dry, stick to the roof of your mouth richness of a good cheesecake that needs a good coffee or a cup of tea to go with it. Cheesecake is not cheap to make and the raw mixture tasted so delicious I was very excited about the result that I had boasted to Mr Doris that if it did not turn out wonderful I would eat one of my legs. Which is a pretty stupid boast to make on all counts.

The cheesecake has sat open in the fridge overnight and there is some hope for it. The slice I had this morning is quite a bit dryer and tasting a whole lot more like cheesecake. The crust is even tasting crustier! Fingers crossed that a few more hours will have it tasting special and I can proceed with the next stage. Otherwise it is down to the supermarket for a shop bought one.

95 years old

In the week that the great Nelson Mandela passed away at the grand age of 95, I visited my 95 year old client for her pampering treatments. I rarely do mobile work and just look after a few clients that I enjoy doing and this lady is one of them. No-one's life can read like Mandela's as he was truly one of a kind but that does not make her any lesser or greater. And possibly in her time she may have been racist and pro-apartheid, or maybe not. She is the sweetest frail thing all hunched up and bed bound with a tiny voice. I've seen her picture, in the frame at the far end of her dressing table, of her at someone's wedding and this was a well built looking woman, the sort one would be cautious of messing with so I do wonder how as humans we can be all these different people within our lifetime. From the cute baby through to a crinkly and withered old person with all those different abilities and personalities along the way. Age can really level out a person's life with all their past put to one side.

Her skin is like paper and taught around her skeleton such that it does not take much to see her frame. All my treatments are modified: facials, manicures, pedicures and massage. I also remove facial whiskers and give her ears a good clean with damp cotton buds. She can feel those whiskers and they sure do bug her and are not good for her self esteem. I don't mind working with her bony hands and feet as there is a certain beauty in seeing the body in this way, and knowing that this person and this body have been on this earth for nearly one hundred years.

I'm seeing her monthly and I hear the same stories again and again and each time I listen avidly for I really do not mind hearing them again and genuinely sound delighted each time I hear them. Sometimes I try to gently push the boundaries for something else from her life though not too much so as not to make her uncomfortable. This time I finally took something of me and brought a large framed photo of my wedding day: of Mr Doris and myself. We propped it up so she could see it whilst I carried on with the treatments. She was so delighted and exclaimed it was like being at the cinema!

During the 90 minute session (supposed to be 60 minutes but I always allow extra) we laughed and giggled. Her lungs are starting to wheeze but she does not seem to recognise it as her lungs and asked me if I could hear that voice. She said something was echoing what she said. Then I could hear the wheeze which she heard as coming behind her and she said there was a man with her and kept telling him to shuss. The more she laughed the more the wheeze which lead to more laughter. We wished each other a happy Christmas and talked about my next visit in January.

As I was leaving, her daughter told me what a difference my visit made in that before I had arrived her mother had said she wanted to die and now she was a different person. This is not about me specifically, although I am sure there is something special I bring to the mix, but about the whole role of therapeutic treatments and beauty. It may be labelled as beauty but pulling a few whiskers is not rocket science and gentle hands on smoothing of creams gives a physical touch the human body and soul needs. On many previous visits my lady has cried about wanting to die because of the "trouble" she feels she is to her daughter. I think it is one thing dying because the body has finally had enough but another to just give up. When my lovely old lady does pass, I hope she will do so feeling happy and content ready to go and not because she feels she must.

Dressed up

Dressed to party and about to leave shortly. It is our Christmas work do where it will be Chinese food and Karaoke. We did the same last year and it was quite jolly so I expect it will be similar this time.

A swipe of clear varnish on nails makes all the difference. I can't bear putting on coloured varnish if it then gets marked so I generally don't bother with anything so it is a bit of an exception to do this. I've taken the time to put make-up on and fix my hair down long and straight which I rarely do so no-one really knows how long my hair is.

The small amount of weight I have put on to my slim frame makes a huge difference and I do not fit into any of my party dresses. Thank goodness for my inspiration at the local Christmas market where I bought a locally hand made knitted scarf that looks like tinsel with silver grey and white edged in black with a tiny silver sequin shot through. I've pinned this to the neck line of a black longer length top which has bands of silver sequins at the bottom, just below my bottom, and at the ends of the three quarter length sleeves. I am wearing a pair of black leggings and these shoes which are surprisingly comfortable as long as my beloved takes me to the destination by car and picks me up!

Yesterday was tough and I just kept on going. I am not quite there but hey, best foot forward and a smile on the face. The show must go on. 

Unexpected Treasures

Yesterday panned out quite unexpectedly. After a few hours messing around online with Dr Who stuff, daughter phoned and invited herself around for lunch. She has had a bit of a blip in her life and had been feeling down these last few days so I was glad she was going to come to us.

It was nearly mid day and had to go get dressed as being in my dressing gown was just not good. I started to debone the not very well cooked roast chicken of the night before when daughter arrived and then not much later an unexpected phone call came through which I took. Chicken went on hold and son and daughter popped off to the supermarket. By the time I finished the call, they had returned sat at the sofa with a small table set up, treats and the brand new Monopoly Empire set up and inviting me to play. I had given this to son as a present on getting his new job in September.

The already opened Christmas port was added to the mix whilst the three of us played and Darling Mr Doris made a Caribbean Banana Tarte Tatin from Paul Hollywood's Pies and Puds which we saw the other day. This picture is from the programme but ours looked just as good and tasted phenomenal:

At one point amidst the laughter and fun, daughter exclaimed that this was just like Christmas. And indeed, it was. Though Thanksgiving came to mind, and being thankful for what we have.

We even managed to persuade Mr Doris to join us to play one round of this Monopoly Empire which is almost nothing like the original Monopoly in that when three people are playing, a game can be done and dusted in ten minutes unlike the ten hour marathons the original could turn out. I'd have thought that this quicker version would suit younger minds - and me too as I can't bear the old version any more - however they were dissatisfied and devised ways to re-rule the game to make it a bit more substantial. With the four of us playing, and some revised rules, and both daughter and I using delaying tactics to not go ahead and win, a game managed to last for a whole 45 minutes!

By the evening I made Roast Chicken with roast quinoa for us all and it was yum yum.

It was a lovely unexpected day of togetherness. Reasons to be cheerful :-)

The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot: Inspired

Yesterday's date had been in our calender since it was first released as the showing of the 50th anniversary episode and in the end our day was scheduled around a feast of TV.

A special roast dinner was made to be ready by 6.30pm and the start of Strictly. Followed hot on its heels by the Dr Who 50th special episode. Just last week I saw that the return of Borgen was being advertised so I had that in mind for 9pm after Dr Who. Borgen is an incredible and amazing series I discovered from my dear friend who passed away early in the year. As we watched together the last triumphant twist and turn of that last episode of the last series she had turned to me and wryly joked that one thing was for sure and that she would not be around for the next series. I suppose it is the sort of joke I would make but is not very funny when one is not the one making the joke.

The evening began with the roast not being quite cooked enough in places. A signifier of the evening ahead I wondered.

Strictly was good enough though nothing particularly special as it is the last few weeks and the judges are suddenly much more critical. We sneaked a preview of who actually gets the boot by the end of the evening and lets say I was very surprised given the two up, or rather, down in the bottom two in the dance off. Tonight's show will be interesting.

The Dr Who special was sort of good. Expectations are so flaming high that making something that celebrated 50 years of what is very much a cult was always going to be difficult. There were some very good points. Overall I gave it a six out of ten which was exceptionally harsh of me.

So there we were, mixed review roast followed by two less than top notch programmes let me onto Borgen for which the other programming had overrun and Borgen had already started. In at the deep end with subtitles flashing away. My poor Mr Doris who had never seen any of the previous would have been isolated as to where we were and who we were dealing with. Though never mind him, I felt thrown in the deep end and I love the programme. Then I checked the programme info and I find it was actually the third episode of the new series. The third!!! What happened to the previous two? Even I need to catch those two before I can proceed.

Within minutes I flicked Borgen off and to the Dr Who after show party and the inane and repetitive "Did you enjoy that" questions which even one of the presenters commented that no-one could hardly say that they didn't. It is the sort of programming that might have been a good idea on paper and is sadly lacking. There was mention of an alternative 50th anniversary Dr Who programme which could be seen on the red button after the after show party. That mythical and rarely pressed red button except for watching alternative sports during the Olympics or taking part in the "guess the antiques price" in Antiques Roadshow.

Oh beautiful red button you saved our day! Peter Davison I never knew how much I love you! The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot is quite possibly the most brilliant and funniest and best celebration of the 50th anniversary. Typical self-deprecation and use of real family members takes Dr Who to a whole new level. What a delight it was to watch with so many references to all things Dr Who and involving a whole raft of the significant characters both behind the scenes and in front of the camera as well as a wealth of others. I do not want to say much more as it might be to spoil other's viewing pleasure. This is the gem of our Saturday night and the jewel of the 50th anniversary of Dr Who.

BBC iplayer usually only available in the UK and only for seven days

Addendum:
I have just had a delightful time re-watching the Reboot film and even freeze framed the credits and looked up who was who online! One thing led to another which led to discovering these creative and wonderful three minute vignettes created by a New York Doctor Who fan. The Adventures of the Doctor Puppet are worth watching all the way through the episodes and also the Christmas Special: How the Doctor Puppet Saved Christmas; and the music video tribute. I so look forward to the next episode. 10.46am 24 November

N n n n n nineteen

19 Google images of 19

Today is the nineteenth. There are twelve of them each year and each time it crops up it makes me do a double-take as if there is some deeply special event I should be noting or celebrating. My daughter was born on one of them so that makes that one very special indeed. My parents were married on one which doesn't make it special for me but instead a very stressful time as my mother's expectations for gifts or celebration far exceeded actual life.

My half sister who has always been an enigma to me was born on a different nineteenth and that has always been special to think of her.

The importance of the 19th has seemed to have grown in the last decade, like something misremembered that needs to be found. As a result of writing this post I have looked up a date I believed for at least five years to have been the 19th but find that the day is wrong for the year concerned. I'm pretty definite about the day of the week which leaves my mind having re-written history to shift what was the 18th to the subconsciously desired 19th. Perhaps I should also question what I think I am definite about!

The number nine has always attracted me in life, possibly because in numerology my life path number is 9. Perhaps that predisposes an attraction to anything with the number 9 in it. Yet I do not have a feeling for the 29th, nor other numbers ending in 9 except for the number 9 itself which was a date on which I happily married. Maybe my daughter's birth led me to find other 19s to associate with? Maybe there IS something on a 19 which I should be remembering but am not? Maybe it is a feature of age and I have already started to go a bit potty fixating on things that are just not there?

In "real life" I am utterly busy, have my finger in a lot of pies and plenty on my plate. No two days are ever the same and yet I come in to my secret blog to write such random thoughts as this.

New Leaf November

It is Autumn though really Winter is beckoning and yet I feel like it is a Spring time in my life. Two full years of accounts have been done and submitted to the accountant with the current year almost up to date to the day. The meeting with the accountant was amazing as she declared part way through the two hour number fest, "Do you notice I am not letting you go? We are going to get this done now so that when you go home you can put those papers away and never look at them again." I burst into tears in response to her gentleness and kindness! Admittedly I had also been awake since 3am getting papers sorted and had been on some very nervous energy. In less than a week that little miracle took place and it has transformed and uplifted me. I vow never again to get into that state. Never.

Our main kitchen and dining area with the new dresser of china continues to look fabulous and is looked after and kept clear. Today I go to the china man in the market where I have ordered a 3 litre china jug to use as a vase and six matching mugs to hang on the up-to-now empty hooks of the dresser with a pattern that I am hoping will complement the existing china. He has promised I can take them all back if it doesn't work. The living area now needs the discarded piles of papers from sorting my finances to be sorted and shredded or dumped. In my targets this weekend is our bedroom though to look at the state it is in and that it is all my stuff creating that mess no wonder I usually call it "my" bedroom. Darling Mr Doris is so patient and kind about it all and does not give me grief just excuses such as how busy I am. And indeed I am. Yesterday I took my daughter to work in the wrong direction to work; worked back to back from 9am to 3pm and then home and then out again to a nail client and did both feet and hands and then home again to change for yoga at 6.30 from which I finally returned at 8pm. No wonder I flake out at the end of the day.

Last Friday I started my first week of a free trial gym membership. It is five minutes walk away and gives me access to the swimming pool and all the classes as well as the gym. Whilst I may have been working hard on getting my accounts together in this last week, progress in life continued and I managed four trips to the gym and two yoga classes! Yesterday I committed to the one year membership as they had a very special deal on and is the best value of just £25 a month with nothing to pay until January. As long as I can manage to get nearly a month's worth of membership each week I'll be very happy indeed. It gets me off the cold, wet and dark streets and actually working on my core strength as well as running. I have discovered I love the rowing machines. My left arm and shoulder have been giving my a severe problem for weeks and weeks now and is only slowly improving. I'm hoping a gentle work out will help it recover better.

Shall I mention the nightmare that woke me up this morning? Something that counterbalances all the good stuff happening. It featured my mother. It was in younger days and she was in full form shouting and screaming and upset by a current friend of mine who I like and admire in real life and yet is such an unassuming and apparently quietish sort. Something had transpired in the dream and my mother and her had an interaction in which my friend had innocently repeated some of the things I had said about her. In life my mother never ever liked to hear good about anyone else. I suppose it is as if it took away from my mother. Anyway, in this dream I am going between the two camps trying to placate and calm. The difference being that I confronted my mother. I shouted at her and told her to stop and that what I thought about my friend had nothing to do with her. In the past I may have told white lies to smooth things over, this time I didn't. It was a hard and aggressive dream. The good thing is that I spoke up and responded to my mother. There was no happy ever after and it was all very difficult and nothing quite resolved. It is what it is and I am not sure there ever will be an easy answer or explanation for my mother and me and why it all happened in my life.

I am fifty years old and here I am still living the nightmares of my youth. Thankfully these are only infrequent occasions and becoming rarer. Yesterday with joining the gym I was thinking maybe with my fitness I can live to a hundred and then I will have had over fifty years without my mother in this world. Maybe the dream was in response to that "evil" thought! That is the flip side to where I am at with the new chapter in my life and feeling good about it and the positive changes.

If the rain is really not bad after all then the allotment may also get a look in from me today. Either way I am off to the gym shortly for a good workout. I still can not believe this is me. Fully paid up gym member with her accounts up to date and a beautiful home emerging, doing a great job with her very happy clients. Frivolously buying a china jug and matching mugs that she chose herself. I want to grin but I also want to cry. In real life I smile a lot which I know is infectious, and underneath, sometimes, is such a level of pain and anxiety and tears that I share only here.

Nesting

Here I go on another extreme and passion! Or is it simply a matter of doing something and doing it until it is all done?

My sister was horrified when I said I was going to get my mother's bone china dinner service out the loft of my dad's place and asked if she objected if I had the china. Not that she wanted the china at all or had any plans for it, she was adamant that under no circumstances was I to start cluttering up my life with it. Well, it is a matter of perspectives. I may not have chosen this particular pattern but it is still lovely and it is fine china.

Under stealth mode, I have these last few weeks looked out second hand dressers and all sorts of arrangement including a rather lovely 1930s office bookcase with glass doors on top. Then this last weekend it all came together after the latest episode of Strictly (come Dancing) I set to with re-arranging the main room of our already over-full apartment to incorporate a Welsh Dresser. This included draining the fish tank and re-siting it. "Luckily" the fish had one by one over the years popped their clogs a while back and so I didn't have to worry about any. (New fish are on their way.)

Early Sunday morning my dad was obliging. I drove over and helped to get the china down from the loft and with his bigger vehicle picked up my chosen Welsh Dresser from the second hand shop down the road. It is a "marry-age" of a stained pine top which is extra tall and just what I imagined in respect of dimensions, with an oak sideboard with tapered front corners so there are no sharp corners for me to manoeuvre in order to get to my desk which has been moved along with all the cables tidied and ratified. Darling Mr Doris was a tad concerned as I'm unplugging wires here there and everywhere. Probably in case he was going to be called in to re-instate everything, but no, I am the mistress of the puzzle and I not only had everything back up and running, it looks so much tidier and neater.

A good clean of the dresser and screwing top to bottom, and an extra good wash of all the china (the newspaper most of it was wrapped in was 2004 so nearly 10 years in the dark) and then bit by bit placing it. Incredibly, this dresser was made for this amount of china. I am so surprised how complete and undamaged it is - just the handle of the cream jug has a problem that needs fixing and might be an issue though for the moment tiny blobs of blu-tack hold it in place. It is a complete dinner service for six people complete with serving plates and bowls and platters. There was once a cake stand but that has long since broken. There is a coffee set for six and a tea set for six.

The even more amazing thing, which I had sort of envisaged, was that the sideboard now also contains all sorts of dining stuff from around the kitchen and our bedroom. All in one accessible place and freeing up vital kitchen cupboards. In the last week or two the kitchen cupboards had been getting a zealous work out from me and now this. Yesterday morning saw other changes with the kitchen counters being cleared and re-organised/re-designed. After I take my daughter to work shortly I'll continue over to the next town and get a new table covering to match the new style, and possibly new lampshades. We have the cheapest paper shades which have served us well and can stay as lampshades are more of a considered purchase unless something fabulous and low cost stands out.

Even my son complimented me on how nice the dresser looks. And it does. It makes me smile and it looks stunning. The brown wood works perfectly with our brown dining table and chairs whilst bringing out the delicateness of the white bone china with its pink and gold decoration. My sister has yet to find out what I have been up to and to see it. That should be interesting if her views have changed.

Frogs, creativity, holidays and living

Before July flies away a little guest visit is in order with a quick update. Going backwards from this point, I started eating frogs on Thursday with a great audio book. All the usual stuff one really does know that resonates at this point in time. Something that I am implementing at a point when I was pulling my finger out any way. Amazingly, I have just found it on youtube and if I am correct then it can be listened to here though I had mine from audible playing to me direct from my phone.




My lovely Mr Doris and I have been on holiday and had a road trip across Germany - I love driving and can now say I have driven through Berlin and across Germany. Visiting special friends and just being.

The bread making continues interleaved with running. I can now say I am a runner and running six or seven km in one go is no problem. Remembering that just a matter of weeks ago I could not run and had no stamina. My thighs are developing nicely thank you.

Often on my mind is my friend who passed away at the end of February. The impact hits me again and again at any point in a day. In some aspects of my life I have been in a state of suspension since then unable to move. Strange how that can co-exist with all my other activity.

Coming back to the frogs, I am working on eating them, one at a time. Starting with our income and empire building once again - this time with specified goals written down. Other goals include living and loving and being happy. Extending my creativity to painting and yesterday coincidentally I met a couple of women who only started painting in their 60s and 70s - so one is never too old. First though, are the finances and some single minded determination.

Da Do Run Run

Maybe it should more correctly be Da Do Ron Ron but this suits my purposes:

I met him on a Monday the song begins, whilst last Monday - our Bank Holiday Monday - my daughter invited me to run with her and others in a major 10k race next year. Thinking back to the moment she asked me I can not run and do not run, but the offer to do something with her was far too immense to not embrace it. I could not run for a bus and a few years back I did do a bit of training with someone and built up to about ten minutes or so of running interspersed with plenty of walking. That was a huge improvement on anything but I did not continue training and found it tough.

With the same gusto that I applied to bread making, the very next day I set off early in the morning on my own to begin a new training regime. After all I have a year to build up to 10k. It is hard to know how or why but on that very first morning I set off at a gentle jogging pace and ran continuously for a whole five minutes and then walked for 10 minutes or so to cool down. I was not out of breath. The next day I ran for a bit longer and so forth. By the fifth day I went with my daughter to a proper shop and had my running style analysed and bought the right trainers and some running socks which are a dream compared to my now scratchy sports socks.

Yesterday I began a sub 60 minute 10K training course which is free on my phone app - RunKeeper. That app is highly recommended and can be accessed online as well as on the phone complete with maps and running times and pace alerts as you are running. On Monday I ran 3km continuously and yesterday I ran 3.2km continuously in 23 minutes which was the "Slow" pace dictated by the training schedule. Today is a rest day which I shall now start to honour. Tomorrow I shall run 4.8km as part of the schedule which will be interesting and a real push but we will see. If I have to walk some of it I will.

Last Friday morning I managed to put bread on to prove and then went out for my run and then was back in again to bake bread and I was still at work by 8.45am with one of the loaves to give to someone! And I feel fantastic. Something has to go though I decided yesterday and that was the sourdough. Despite having made a creditable sourdough loaf on the weekend I really am finding it too much co-ordinating at the moment so the sourdough starters (including a back-up one in the freezer) were dashed.

With all the running, and walking - I am doing long walks after my runs in order to cool down gently, I was wondering how my Warrior diet would cope and so have been re-reading about it and have been inspired. Many sports people use the warrior diet (eating each day just in a five hour window) though I am reading that tiny fresh fruit snacks or nuts are sometimes eaten during the fasting hours, so I am good to continue. In fact exercise is the one thing I have neglected as part of the warrior diet/lifestyle. It seems my darling Mr Doris has been either inspired or put to shame as he now has the Runkeeper app on his phone too and is now cycling or running. After all my baking has continued apace and all this consumption needs to be balanced out. With my warrior diet I haven't put on any weight but dearest Mr D looks like he has been gaining a few inches.

A right tart

Flexing my culinary muscles I've extended bread making to pastry and scones. Using this recipe from Be Kitchen Happy I was inspired by her Custard Tart Quest. The reason being that this is Mr Doris' favourite treat and whenever I am near certain supermarkets I know I must  pop in and get some. I'm not really a fan and don't bother eating any. However, for my long suffering partner I felt he needed a little treat as if (mainly) delicious fresh home made breads were not enough.

This was pretty amazing and he and I managed to eat two slices each when it was semi-warm - as shown in the picture. The pastry was superb though I wasn't so thrilled with the grated butter leaving what wastage it did on the grater. A tip I picked up from talking to someone who recently made scones was to chill the flour and this I did as well as trying out the grated butter idea. Next time I'll just chill the flour and use room temperature butter (ie soft!). The other thing I modified was to also chill the pastry flan for ten minutes after I had lined the flan dish. As I didn't have a flan tin with removable base I just lightly sprinkled some flour into the bottom of the buttered dish. Amazingly, after it had cooked and cooled a bit I was able to gently wiggle and then tip the custard tart out and then back upright onto a plate. The custard moved a bit in its pastry nest and then I just wiggled it back to the edges. 

The pastry crust was unbelievable delicious. Vaguely sweet with a flaky crackly crispness. I want to make something savoury with pastry now.

Before I bravely tackled the "Custard" as a custard tart seems to be known round these parts, I made scones the day before. One would have thought I'd be piling on the pounds but it is the opposite! I'm mainly keeping keeping to eating during the five hour (Warrior diet) window which is not too difficult. I'm generally avoiding dairy to clear my sinuses which are barely an issue these days and lapse with treats like this or cream with scones. I have recently discovered using solid coconut oil as a non-dairy and highly nutritious and good for you spread on bread. Oh my goodness it is heaven on a slice. It does change the flavour of the bread somewhat so I need to taste my home baked breads without it first.

I used to make scones as a kid and very rarely tried them again over the years. They tasted good (apart from the occasional splodge of baking sometimes) but never rose to anything of significance. And then in my readings recently read that scones were simply a sweet soda bread. Having not made soda bread but any number of other breads (I have two loaves of spelt currently cooling on the counter) I approached my scone making with a renewed vigour. If anything I was more vigorous with mixing and kneading but in a gentle way if that makes sense. I always knew to handle the dough gently but then I did it too gently. Big things were to chill the flour and also the mixed eggs and milk mixture. I used Mary Berry's  Devonshire scones recipe  and for once in my life weighed the chilled flour into the bowl and then stirred the baking powder in well before crumbing in the butter.

It is true that where the egg and milk glaze drips down the sides of the scones is where they tilt. Next time I might just try a little of the egg only as a glaze and then make extra sure it does not drip down.

I made these scones to take a few to a girlfriend along with a freshly made loaf of bread in my little red riding hood basket along with cream, jam, butter, ham and fresh cherry tomatoes. With her lovely home and china we had ourselves a gorgeous afternoon tea.

9am Satisfaction

What more can I say? The produce of my little labours this morning and it is only 9am. Second attempts at French baguettes and crumpets. Son has already had four for his breakfast, hot out of the pan with a slight smear of marmite. He said they tasted better than crumpets and he is not known for being polite to me to be political.

The French breads have yet to cool and be cut into. Only then will I see what the texture is like. However, the outside is far crispier than my last attempt and something amazing happened after I took them out of the oven and put on the cooling rack: there was a strange noise in the kitchen area. A sort of cracking crackling noise. Small and insistent. I leaned down and listened to the crumpets cooling in front of me - as you do! On the basis that maybe the bubbles were still bubbling and nothing. It wasn't coming from the direction of the cooking and the other crumpets in the pan. I went around the table to the French loaves and voila - they were crackling. What a wondrous sound. I imagine it could be the crust doing what it needs to do in order to become crispier though I do not know.

Last night I made two granary loaves and despatched one over to my niece who is on a diet that allows homemade bread. I gather like us with our loaf they had tucked into it last night. Yum yum.

Something I realised when I was doing my stuff this morning and that is, I can do something really well. Not just "I can do well but one day someone will find out I can't" well, but truly inside with a nice warmth, well.

I shall be modifying my warrior diet today and will toast crumpets and serve with mugs of tea for breakfast for Mr Doris and I. Then, I just know I will need to try the French bread by lunch. Maybe I will do all my eating this morning, now that is an idea and then not eat until tomorrow evening as per usual. I can do that. But depends how much French loaf is left by the time I get home from my main job this evening after 8pm. Am off out shortly to another little job. The sun is shining and our windows are wide open. Ideally, I'd like to use my sour dough starter in a loaf but as that can take a couple of days and I shall be mostly out working now over the next few days that is not going to happen. Must be patient. Maybe that is what Bank Holiday Mondays are for?

Recipes:
For the baguettes I used this recipe www.dovesfarm.co.uk/recipes/baguette-bread-stick/
and left out the Vitamin C (as I don't have it) and used half the amount of sugar as I wasn't sure why it was in the recipe. I don't have a baguette baking tray and used an upturned heavy baking tray as that gave me more usable space and placed the baguettes on a slight diagonal as my oven is on the small side.
For the crumpets I used this recipe  www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/crumpets_61013  The first time I used one quarter of the measurements and this time I used one half of the measurements. I probably made them too shallow so therefore more than two dessertspoons of mixture are needed for each, especially if there are supposed to be 10-12 from the full quantity and I yielded 9 from half the recipe. Next time I would not use olive oil as that smokes at a higher temperature and perhaps I can get the pan safely at a higher temperature and that is all I need to fix to get them cooked better on the inside.

Good bye March

Thank you March for allowing me to be so special to someone at the end of their life. To plan their funeral and to carry out their wishes.

Thank you March for my beautiful husband who is always such a rock and supports me through all the things I need to do outside of the house.

Thank you March for my beautiful children who have been incredibly supportive and actually seem to like me and to some extent appreciate me. They are safe and close though I hope for their sake they are able to fly as far as they need.

Thank you March for my beautiful friends. In particular one who has held my hand through some very difficult times these past few months and has gone over and beyond. In my younger days I would never have dreamt of asking for help but I do more so now and it is amazing. Ask and ye shall receive.

Thank you March for my very kind and understanding employer. In the end she hasn't been too inconvenienced but still, she has been incredibly supportive. Enabling me to go and do what I needed without worrying and yet always a gentle pushing towards the future and being more successful. For keeping life moving forward with new training.

Thank you March for Easter! For closing on a significant number of days off work so that I am able to rest. For the clear out that this cold and sickness represents.

Here is to a glorious April with the sun shining and the new shoots of growth.

Don't forget the honey, mummy

It is holiday time with a clear run of some days with no work and how I could enjoy the sunny moments in the weather. Walk down to the allotment and till the earth. Continue to declutter my living space which we know is so liberating. Instead, none of that. I have been gripped by my son's cold and cough with sore throat. Dear Mr Doris has also succumbed too and it is all so yucky.

The thing is, I have been in so much pain from it. On Wednesday I was getting through so much fresh lemon and homey I was sure I'd have this beaten. On Thursday I asked Mr Doris to bring more lemons but I forgot to ask for more honey. I do not know what was in my tiny brain cells to suddenly use one whole lemon in a glass with barely a teaspoon of left over honey. Drinking it wasn't entirely pleasant or comforting though it went down. It was the acid reflux a short while later that had me hit the roof and I felt like the back of my throat, already sore and unpleasant was suddenly stripped and burned and still feels that way a couple of days later. So my thought for the week is to always use enough honey with your fresh lemon.

I fell off the bandwagon way back with my hydrogen peroxide therapy and am sure that if I had kept it up I might not have succumbed in the way I have. I feel so fragile I'm not sure I can do anything to get back onto things like that. The thing is, I know my body likes to pack up on occasion and have down time. Especially after the emotional roller coaster of this year so far. I try to keep reassuring myself that I was planning on taking it easy anyway and don't need this cold to make me do that.

In other news, and other important thoughts for the week, if one is planning to Ferry Cross the Mersey and you have very long hair, then leaving it down and free like some artificially remembered childhood is not a good idea. There was a huge matted mess at the nape of my neck and luckily my french pleat style enabled me to straighten out the outside layers so I still looked smart for work and despite efforts with conditioner in the shower and a bath with oils, nothing was giving. The good Mr Doris spent nearly an hour yesterday patiently unpicking the mass. I am pleased to say I am back to being knot free.