ruthless

Mill stone

I'm in the BA lounge at terminal 5 desperately trying to download episodes of Homeland and The Good Wife to watch on the flight to Istanbul.

This morning I went to communion with my dad and sister. The cathedral was as beautiful and peaceful as ever. The sermon was garbled. The hymns were awful but the choir was excellent. The incense was overpowering and the person swinging it (remind me what the vessel is called you of catholic persuasion) was clearly taking her job very seriously. I seriously could not admire the painted roof through the fog of patchouli.

That was then. Now I've said a sad goodbye and am heading east again. This was the view of the mill stream this morning.

Narnia

I've been driving the road between Glastonbury and Wells frequently over the past two years going to see my dad and regularly pass an architectural salvage yard. Yesterday for the first time, my sister, bil and I went in. It's a pity about luggage allowances as there were some fine mail boxes but I also liked the idea of Narnia at the end of the garden. If I were in the market for a WW2 Russian tank this would also be my first stop.

Testing, testing

I have gone over to the dark side and I have a new phone. I miss my berry keyboard. The camera is pretty cool though.

Use your words

Work drains me at the moment.  I hardly think at the end of the year, when my performance is reviewed, that anyone is going to say "we rate you highly for smoothing ruffled feathers, negotiating through conflict, keeping calm in a crisis and maintaining a modicum of sanity".  It will be all "how many widgets did you deliver?".  Blah.

My daughter is taking a class in 19th century literature.  It seems rather light on to me - Frankenstein, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, the Importance of Being Earnest and Jane Eyre.  No Trollope? No Dickens? No Thackeray or Eliot? We'll see but seems they should rename it "short Victorian books"

We continue to eat well.  Last night was an excellent spinach pie.  I am frequenting our local butcher and organic veggie shop.  It is pricey but I am loving the aspect of shopping everyday like some French housewife and choosing what is freshest in the market.  Yesterday lunchtime I walked the puppy down in the pouring rain.  This was his first experience of being left outside a shop to wait while I consulted with the butcher.  He managed to attract a band of admirers in the three minutes I was gone.  Suck up.

What Enid Blyton taught me about driving

There is another teenager with L plates.  We've done the whole inside outside lane thing again and now I just point and say slow lane/fast lane.  There are several other things her driving instructor advises which I strongly disagree with but I get that she has to pass the test by their rules.  Some things I am immoveable on. Holding the steering wheel at quarter to nine or ten to two. Using your gears to slow down (thank heavens I no longer drive a car where you have to double de clutch).  We have our familiar array of driving tunes.

Giving advice to a learner and keeping a running commentary on road conditions makes me realise just how much you internalise as you become familiar with driving.  I mean, it is not so much driving as being aware of others' behaviour and anticipated actions.  A lesson for life really, as you judge the person who you know is going to try and make that light or make a quick turn in front of you.  Or the person who is looking for an address and may stop at any moment.

She is getting quite good and no approaches every junction in hope that no one will be coming.  She knows how to change up and down gears.  She can judge distance and reverse competently.

Of course, everyone else is at fault, not her.  She complained about a car being parked too close to a corner and obstructing her visibility.  When I was a child I remember a Noddy story where Noddy got taken to prison by Mr Plod for parking his car on a corner.  She nodded with approval saying she thought all the annoying drivers should suffer the same fate.

Christmas comes early

Since I am leaving for Brazil next Sunday at crack of dawn my girls brought mothers' day up a week.  It was pretty laid  back.  We thought about driving out to the country for lunch but you know, I hate to go far from home unless it is thousands of miles and takes 24 hours so we compromised.  We ate lunch in civic here.  We had the best seats in a raised section where we could view the rest of the restaurant and what was going on in the alley outside. The coffee was adequate. 

Then we stopped at the video shop (I know, old school but apple tv disappoints me with its crap australian content) and besides you can't buy maltesers on line.   Then we took young Charlie to the puppy park for a romp where he wallowed disgustingly in the mud.  He had a bath when we got home and I made macaroni cheese and apple crumble.  Charlie had a delightful bone and we watched romantic comedies and lolled on the sofa.

The kids bought me some hideous chocolates which they ate most of and a delightful Sophie Conran salad bowl without any massive hints from me.  All good with the world down here.

Carbalicious

I got up at 6 and replied to a heap of overnight emails.  If I were in physical proximity to these people, I would just wander into their offices and talk it over, but I am not so I have to use my written words.  I am only writing this as I am avoiding a spreadsheet that I was supposed to have completed yesterday.  I am begging my colleague if I can copy her homework...

Saturday night's spinach and ricotta canneloni loaded with carbs and fats with a modicum of spinach to dilute its calorific value.  I had to roll the pasta while daughter took the puppy for a walk and the combination of food and something dangly was going to be too much for him.  I had tons of left over pasta so last night I made lasagne.  These baked pasta dishes look deceptively easy and while I agree there is no effort in them there is TONS of washing up.  Good thing we have a dishwasher again.

Ok, work displacement activity over and back to the dreaded spreadsheet.

 

The Matrix

The nature of my work is exhausting at the moment.  The machinations of various special interest groups creates barriers to achieving the things I am measured on without enormous effort.  So much make work.  That is what had me lose my cool on Friday note and send a tetchy email to someone who ordinarily I like and admire.  It was the cause of a sleepless night on Friday and had me on the phone on Saturday morning to someone in Chile (still her work day) trying to work out a resolution.  It did get resolved and I was sorry to have been so sharp.  I traded a few emails on the subject over the weekend which meant work has been way too high on my priorities.

In between that I went to the dog park twice, walked to dog several imes, went to puppy school where our pup excelled in sniffing out which cup the treat was under.  In a house like ours, how could he not be highly motivated by food?  My oldest and I love puppy school, have a major fan girl crush on the teacher and love the other dogs.  While we were gone, youngest swabbed the kitchen floor which gladened my heart.

Last night I grilled salmon with tarragon butter and served it with champ, roasted asparagus, steamed spinach, peas and a sort of bearnaise sauce.  It was super yummy.  I questioned ganching later on the authenticity of my champ and was relieved to be assured it was acceptable.  I am not sure why spring onions have so many different names:  sybies in Scotland, scallions in Ireland, spring onions in England, shallots here in Australia where what I would call shallots are called eschalots.  Too confusing.

This is a short week with Anzac Day in the middle and I am taking Thursday and Friday off so have lots to get done so that stupid make-work stuff does not intrude.

I am listening to Dion Graham read Pelecanos while I walk.   He is an excellent reader.

 

Swissy goodness

Synchronicity amuses me.  You know, the way an actor you talk of suddenly turns up in everything yu watch or a colour, hitherto unnoticed, becomes this season's staple? 

I am struggling on the bread front and was bored with my high rotation of no knead bread or flat breads so I hauled out my old recipe for zopf.  Deliciousness all round and if you think, meh white bread, think again of its sweet dense taste.

As it turned out its author turned up in my facebook stream, and then in my twitter stream with a tantalising musing that maybe she would resurrect her food blog.  I hope so.  I have several of her staples printed off as my go to recipes.  Plus I miss my old friends from when blogging was a regular occurence.

Talk among yourselves

While I was gone this

turned into this

Still lovely but bigger with a more pointy face and able to reach up to hitherto unforeseen heights.  Observe.

I was trying to photograph the autumn bounty of my garden but Charlie decided there might be something edible in there.

Dog owning is lovely.  I am enjoying the social aspects of it very much but it has rather ruined by exercise routine and, despite claims to the contrary, 90 minutes of dog walking does not constitute aerobic activity.

Nothing much else is happening around here.  I was going to spend some money on a new car port and then thought that though would undoubtedly add to the overall cosmetic improvement of my house it would have zero impact on my daily life (there is a shabby car port in place) and that there were other uses for the money.  I am back on the Ikea kitchen planning web site and considering how much effort it would be to rip up those black and white tiles and sand the floor back.  Don't get me wrong, I love those tiles and the overall provencal look it adds but many are cracked and they are fitted around the current kitchen units.  Given that I need to rip the whole kitchen out (the configuration is all wrong and I want less cupboards not more) I have to redo the whole floor.

See, I no longer talk about clothes and high heels.  Instead, I wear grubby jeans and holey t-shirts as I consider home maintenance and dog training.  I promise the house is still very clean and that I brush my hair every day.