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Letters to a Sister 6

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It was my turn to cook at Lunch Club. This is a major operation, beginning with a trip to supermarket at 8:30 the morning before. I then spent all day cooking beef casseroles and lemon crunch pies, which spend the night in my fridge and then get transported to church and reheated for the lunch. This week we had forty-two people. Lots of food.

It started fairly badly when I tried to open the condensed milk ready for the lemon crunch pies. We have a Jamie Oliver tin opener, which I am quite fond of as it is not immediately obvious how it works and leaves people looking confused and I can then show them and feel clever. In the past, it has always worked brilliantly. Anyway, my guess is that Jamie Oliver does not use much condensed milk in his recipes (do you still use his recipes? I am more of a Nigella cook -unfortunately am getting the waistline to match!)

This stupid opener would not open the tin, whichever way I held it. All it did was remove a hair sized slither of metal, which then splintered off into my hand. Hurt. And bled. Not a good start.

Now, I have done my hygiene safety course (what a thrilling morning that was) so I knew that blood and catering is a bad combination. I should immediately cover the cut with a blue plaster (blue so that if it falls into the food – gross thought – it is easily spotted.) However, we do not have blue plasters in my house. We only have Postman Pat ones which I buy because I like to hear ‘important-city-worker’ and ‘international – businessman’ both muttering when they cut themselves (I clearly don’t get out enough.)

I therefore decide that I will opt for hygiene rule two and wear plastic gloves. Unfortunately, the only plastic gloves which are unopened (and therefore safe to use with food preparation) are extra large black marigolds, bought to use in the garden. So, there I am, wearing my outsized black gloves, looking at unopened condensed milk cans and thinking bad thoughts about Jamie Oliver.

What do you do when your tin opener does not open tins? I can assure you that a cork screw is both dangerous and does not work. Nor does bashing it very hard with sons penknife. Taking it in garden, wedging it between logs and hitting it with an axe does work, however leaves milk too dirty to use. The only option, as far as I know, is to drive very fast back to supermarket and buy a cheap but effective tin opener. One that actually opens tins. I will suggest to Jamie that really this should be the defining point for any implement he sells under the name ‘tin opener’. Radical thought.

The rest of my preparation went well, though I was completely worn out afterwards. Luckily, both David and Mimi were at work functions in the evening, so Mum had agreed to cook me dinner. I shoved the food in the fridge, fed the animals and drove to Mum’s. As I stood on her doorstep I had a horrible feeling that she might be going to serve me beef casserole/stew (you will understand.) But no, it was very nice scollaped potatoes with sausages and cheesecake for pudding. No tin openers necessary.

The actual Lunch Club was fine. The oldies all ate their beef casserole and vegetables and absolutely huge pieces of lemon crunch pie. All very tasty and hygienic. Some of them bring in plastic containers and take home the leftovers to eat in the week. It’s a nice feeling to cook for them. They have jugs of water on the table and a few of them have started to bring in fruit juice to add to it so it has a flavour. This week one table had a bottle of alcoholic fruit juice. The leader asked if they realised it was alcoholic and they just winked at her! That’s so how I want to be when I’m ninety-five!

Actually, we recently renamed the group. It’s now called Lunch Club (imaginative huh?) We did consider a few possibilities. My personal favourite was Fifty Shades of Grey (this was deemed to be misleading – they might arrive with the wrong expectations!)

 

We went to visit Noreen in hospital. She has just decided not to continue with chemo, so probably wont live much longer. I was really nervous about going. She’s a friend, so I really felt that we should go but I was worried about getting all emotional, which would be awful for her and upsetting for me. Prayed hard. Arrived at hospital – why are they so beige? Found her ward, which bizarrely is the maternity ward. Apparently ‘womens bits’ are all categorised the same, whether it’s the beginning or end of a life. Actually, maybe that’s better, maybe being on a ‘cancer ward’ would be rather depressing. Anyway, Noreen was still Noreen. She is clearly unwell, but still bright and sparky and fun to talk to. I didn’t get emotional at all. Find that happens a lot when I pray – makes me wonder why I don’t spend more time doing it.

Take care,
Anne xx

The next ‘Letters to a Sister’ will be posted next Monday.

Letters to a Sister 5

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Very excited, one of my poems was ‘spotted’ on Twitter and has been printed in Tear TimesIMG_2312You can order a copy (family heirloom) at : tearfund.org (they’re free)

 

For David’s birthday, his sisters gave him a voucher for a champagne cream tea at the races. Decided to use it on Saturday. Was fun. We arrived about two, having missed lunch due to eating big breakfast. Wondered how we would manage to drink a whole bottle of champagne mid afternoon. We managed surprisingly well.

The race course was nice. Not really used to race courses, so no idea what to expect. We had a table in a pavilion, which we could leave to watch the races and then come back to (for more champagne.) On way to the track passed a group of musicians who never seemed to be playing and a stand selling ‘Hand Pulled Pork’ which made me giggle. (I blame it on the champagne, but honestly, WHO thought that was a good name for something people would want to eat????)

Liked watching everyone. All the women seemed to be dressed up in high heels and fancy dresses and fascinators. I do not get the point of fascinators – they are fascinating because they look very difficult to keep from falling off! I had my best trousers on but fear I may have looked like I had come straight from sorting out ducks and kittens (because I had.)

Anyway, I had reminded David that Great Grandad had been involved with building the race course at Huntingdon, we had Dick Francis and Josh Gifford on our family tree, etc, etc. First race, I picked a horse. Told David it had odds of 9:1.
He then pointed out that actually that was its weight. It came second. Next race chose with confidence, telling him the weight. It lost, of course. Then we texted lucky niece and asked her for her tip – that lost too. Was great fun watching though.

Tea was nice. We had a Romanian waiter. I asked him which part of Romania he came from, he told me Eastern Europe. Maybe I was slurring by this point.

I used the Ladies before we came home. David pointed me in the right direction and I managed the heavy double doors just fine. Room very crowded with lots of women touching up their make up and combing hair. Did not use elbows to reach the sink (would’ve been rude.) Wondered who thought ‘bubble gum’ was a good perfume for liquid soap.

Thanks for sending the pot pourri. I’ve put it in a pretty china dish in the downstairs bathroom. Not sure why the whole world now thinks that’s a good place to fling the empty toilet roll insert.

My animals are doing well. The silver call ducks have just hatched. Mother keeps sitting on them still (glad there is one good mother in my household) so getting a decent photo is near impossible. Milly and Molly continue to be terrible mothers and only really notice their babies when I go in and put them back together. All four kittens continue to thrive, I feel despite rather than because of their mothers.

Talking of mothers, I took our mother to the supermarket yesterday. She went to one of the ‘self check out’ tills before I could stop her. Immediately, an assistant came and stood next to her, helping her check out. Think that tells a story in itself.

Take care,
Anne x

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Letters to a Sister 4

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I can’t remember if you have the same holidays as us? Anyway, last Monday was a Bank Holiday in the UK. Mimi (amazingly) managed to sell her car. Think she was a bit sad to see it go. She rather liked having a big pile if cash though! She then, rather worryingly, asked, “Will banks be open today?” I told her there was a clue in the name! Also a bit surprising as she works in a bank. Clearly that Law degree was worth every penny.

Also, Molly had her kittens. Somewhat of a surprise, as I was just thinking about moving them inside ready for my guessed due date of end of May. I found her on a high shelf in the workshop with two almost dead kittens (which didn’t make it) and one feeding.

Milly has not yet produced but seems uncomfortable. She’s a bit smaller than Molly so am guessing a few days later. I moved them all into the garage. Molly is a pretty useless mother. She is fed up with the kitten and just wants to curl up on her own somewhere. Milly is very uncomfortable and just wants to hug Molly all the time, squashing the kitten in the process. She also keeps trying to steal the kitten – perhaps she thinks if she can steal that one she needn’t go through the whole birth thing herself. I tried putting Milly somewhere different but Molly got very upset so decided having them together was the lesser evil. Think these two missed the ante natal classes and the ‘instinct’ bit obviously missed a generation. Will be a miracle if that kitten survives.

It does bring back memories of having babies, not that I remember very much. I think we are designed to forget most details so that we have more than one baby and don’t warn our daughters never to have children. I can remember when I had my second one commenting, “Oh, I remember this pain now.” Can’t remember much else. Am pretty sure though that I remained calm and glamorous throughout.

I do recall David, busy husband, not having time to read any of the million books that I gave him in preparation. Then, when I was in labour he said he would start reading one. He chose a 1950s book and read out, “Only the ignorant woman feels pain during childbirth.” I think I politely asked him to stop reading, it wasn’t helping.

Take care,
Anne xx

PS Milly had her kittens – three survived. She seems a much better mother than Molly who still regularly abandons her kitten for something more interesting. Amazingly it is still alive, though what being regularly sat on or ignored does for your self esteem remains to be seen. Perhaps it is ugly, some babies are. Do you remember Mum telling us the story of when Mark was born and Granny said, “Never mind, you can keep him covered in a shawl!”?

Having kittens is MUCH more traumatic than hatching ducklings. If a duckling gets stuck you can help and most of the time it is successful and if it’s not, well it is sad but there is no risk to the mother.
Have definitely given up on the idea of breeding puppies.
Am not sure that I want grandchildren any more either. All very stressful.

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Letters to a Sister 3

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Rats This week I have two problems, both rat related.

Now, as you know, if you live on farmland and keep poultry, you’ll have rats. Fact. We’ve always had a big brown rat around the pond. In fact, the first year we lived here, when we didn’t know what we were doing and the pond froze so the fox could walk to duck island and kill every single duck, James asked if he should still continue to feed the rat each morning. (He was young.)

However now, after two mild winters, they have become more of a problem. They get the eggs, they carry germs and will kill the young poultry when it first hatches.

So, last year we bought two farm cats, Milly and Molly, to live outside. Even if they don’t get the bigger rats, they’ll get the babies and that will keep the population under control. I didn’t spay them, figuring that a few cats outside would be fine, they can each have a litter and then I’ll get them all spayed.

Am pretty sure now that Milly & Molly are pregnant rather than greedy. Still no idea who the father is, but can definitely smell a Tom some mornings. Not pleasant.

Did some internet research to learn how I should be looking after them. Learned that sometimes cats can produce up to 8 kittens. Eight. Not really sure how I am going to mention this to David. Milly & Molly were perfect, the only two in the litter, born in a stable but handled regularly so not feral & used to a GSD. Perfect. I had assumed that as they were a pair, they would each produce a pair. Six kittens, living outside, helping to control the rats around the pond, ideal. I’ll have them all neutered after the first litter and we’ll all live happily ever after.

But eighteen? Oh dear. And whilst I can kill the odd cockerel ( especially after he has attacked me & is showing signs of aspiring to world domination) there is NO way I could dispose of a kitten. (I promise to send photos when they’re born – am guessing end of May.)

Can you advertise for good homes on fb? Have a feeling its against the fb rules, my account will be shut down by fb police. Oh the shame.

I will have to smuggle them into people’s homes. Perhaps I cd take them as thank you gifts when invited out for dinner. Can be gifts for all my nieces & nephews on their birthdays. House warming gifts? Could have a party & give them as leaving gifts/party favours. This clearly needs some thought.

My next problem is also rat related. Last Summer we had “Mr Rat” the exterminator, but then he was ill and stopped coming, leaving both a healthy rat population and some traps.

I, in my wisdom, decided to set some of the traps. They worked. I now have a rat. An alive one.

Now, it is one thing to employ a man to put down poison or to get some farm cats to kill the babies, it is quite another to be faced with a rat, perfectly healthy, looking through the bars of the trap at me. He has a little furry face and sweet little ears and cute pink paws.

He also screams the rat equivalent of death threats whenever I go near and tries to bite me through the cage. Clearly hates me. What to do?

Cannot bring myself to kill him, not face to face – plus not sure how. I can kill something quickly, before it feels fear, in an instant. But how do I even get it out of the trap without it biting me? Nor can I leave it to starve to death. Seems cruel.

So I am now feeding a rat and regularly topping up its water bowl. This is so not what I had planned.

When David gets home I will suggest he might like a drive into the countryside, away from other houses and farms and we can release it. I fear he will mutter. Will also be nervous that cage in car may not be as secure as I hope. Oh dear, big problem.

Maybe I can add it to the surprise kitten gifts…..Just be glad it’s not December or guess what you would be getting for Christmas……

Will write again next week.

Take care.
Anne xx

PS Mimi is trying to sell her car. She told me she has advertised on a car website but at the last minute she got worried about putting her mobile number on a public site. So she used a false number. Not sure she really thought that one through.

Letters to a Sister 2

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Letter to a Sister 2

     Okay, so James suggested I join some facebook groups to advertise some of my articles. Good idea. Joined a German Shepherd Dog (GSD) group and then got lots of hits on my dog training article. Still good. Decided to join some more groups. Some are ‘closed groups’, so you cannot see any of the stuff on their timeline until you are accepted as a member. No problem, I thought, and joined a few. Ah. GSD also stands for ‘gender sexual deviation’. Saw some very unexpected photos. Thought they probably didn’t want to learn about dog training…….

     Not sure if Milly and Molly are pregnant or just enjoying their new food. At the end of May either we will have kittens or they will be on a very strict diet.

     Silver Call duck is nesting. The rats kept getting her eggs so she is now in a huge plastic crate with sheer sides. Male Call duck is sitting next to it in the hope she will emerge. (She only comes out at night to eat and swim – sensible duck!)

     Friday was the Lunch Club. The leader was away, so she had asked me to go round as people were drinking  their coffee, show them the menu and ask what they wanted to eat. Easy, you might think. The trouble is, I am usually tucked away in the kitchen, so I don’t usually see any of them and I don’t know their names. So, when I took their order, I wrote it next to their names and added a short description in the margin (wearing peach cardigan, dressed in red, that sort of thing.)

     All was going fine until some helpful person turned on the heating and they all took off their cardigans and jackets. There is something indistinguishable about a group of ladies with short grey hair all wearing home knitted jumpers. They looked identical. I kept asking people for the second time what they wanted to eat. They were confused, I was confused, the list was a mess. If I am asked to do it again (which I doubt) I will ask if I can put a small ink spot on their cheek when I have taken their order so I can keep track. Should go down well.

Hope all is well with you. Take care, Ax

Letters to a Sister : 1

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Ugh, yesterday was a horrible evening.

In the afternoon was Baking Club (a few teenaged girls come round, we bake something nice and have a short Bible study.) Anyhow, yesterday was very hard work. I was feeling hormonal (grumpy) and we ran out of time, so the Bible bit was really rushed and not very interesting. We are trying to make cupcakes for a fundraiser. The idea is that we will invite all our friends and family round for an afternoon in June, give them a cupcake and a cup of tea and collect donations to help stop child trafficking. We started making them yesterday – each girl made thirteen, twelve to go in the freezer and one to take home. But it took ages. In the end, they made the cakes and the icing and I said I would put the icing on later, when the cakes were cool.

They all made different flavours. Suzie made chocolate ones, with chocolate icing made using Nesquik. I iced them (they looked good) and put them in the freezer. James then wandered into kitchen, saw the remains (all over kitchen) and asked if I had bought new Nesquik because the stuff in the larder was out of date. I checked. It was. Bother.

Then had one of those struggles with conscience – checked ingredients and it was just sugar and flavourings, no milk powder, so it would be okay. Wouldn’t it? But what if it wasn’t and I made everyone sick? What if I killed someone’s granny? Decided was not worth the risk. Texted Suzie’s mum and told her to not let Suzie eat the icing, then scraped all the icing off all the other cakes. After ages, decided it wasn’t coming off very thoroughly, so I would eat denuded cakes and bake fresh ones tomorrow and never mention it to Suzie.

Took naked cakes to freezer in garage. Freezer completely full because one in kitchen has died. Then David arrived to ask if dinner was ready. Told him I was having a crisis. He offered to make space in freezer while I cleared up. I believe it is now all in alphabetical order. Super.

Jim started to cook dinner (macaroni cheese with bacon and leeks and chicken pieces – I  killed two of the cockerels last week.) I continued to ice the other girl’s cakes. Then Becky arrived home. Went to do her washing and informed me that dog had pooped all over utility room floor. Was not very grateful to her for telling me. She left and hid in room for a bit.

Finally, cleared up poo, cleaned up very messy kitchen, finished making dinner and fed all the animals.

Had big glass of wine.

Hope your evening was better than mine.

x