Like a nail across glass paper...

silhouetted against the bedroom window

he stood at the window scratching his left cheek.

A taste of a

Cold foggy morn - 
Sunday in the Weald of Kent.

What to do today LL?

I know what I should do...

 Crafting, as opposed to grafting for Kitsch and Stitch

(see side bar)

Customising Denim is what I'm doing...

Try to keep moving on...

that way the blighters never catch you!

Trouble is, they never want to.

Be fresh and innovative,

one step ahead...

Yes, yes, YES...

we've heard it all before.


I must confess I've been bored with this blogging lark
and I don't think I'm alone, nothing much seems to be moving 
in blogland.  In these chilly months you'd think we'd all be at it.
But no!


Have your creative juices taken a nose-dive like mine I wonder?


I did get over in the studio and made a start
 listening to the 70th birthday edition of
Desert Island Discs.
And very good it was too.


I'm in gardening mode at the moment...
Garden?  This weather?
Last year being heavily involved in the organising of
Kitsch and Stitch
my poor plot got horribly neglected.
As I'm now just a stall holder, I have more time to potter in my potager.
Already I have great plans afoot and the warmer days of last week found me 
up to my knees in weeds 'n muck.
Heaven of the compost kind.


Now, 4 pm-ish, I'm off to close the greenhouse door and begin to prep the 
Sunday rib of beef,
served unfortunately without Yorkshire puddings
due to me still battling to get the Christmas pounds oft!
(how do you make yours?  Mine are ALWAYS 2 eggs to 4oz Plain flour)
And I PROMISE I will do the next instalment of my 
Masterchef experiences...
cross my heart and all that jazz!

I'm looking for a man
who can meet my neeps!


Toodle-pip!


***

Am I missing something here...

or is it the ole cynic rides again?

I just don't get it?


Perhaps you can tell me...
why are there so many swops and give aways
in blogland?


Now the 'wickeder' side of me might say...
'It's in order to get more followers and comments!'
The nicer, kinder, gentler bit might say...
'The kindness of folk knows no bounds!'


Where are you in this debate that takes place on a regular basis in my head?


Is the world becoming prey to the supermarket
buy one, get one free, con trick?


Only the other day in my favourite store I went to get some cleaning stuff.
Imagine my absolute horror at being faced with buy two, get one free.
Me buying one is an event to be noted in Old Moore's Almanac...
two would be enough to last me till 2020.
Frigging three, I would be able to bequeath one in my 
last will and testament.


Yes you know the answer...
Mr Muslce now features large in my life.


Then we get onto the altogether more exciting offer of 
my nibble of choice made by a certain Mr Walker (No! Not Johnnie)
{nor even yet Fanny!}


Crisps, my dear boy... CRISPS.
As my gasping hand reached for the
(as I'm getting back on the diet)
one 5 multi packet bag of Wotsits,
my hand-held device belched in the most ungainly way.
Buy two get... de dah... you know the rest.
In order to save money I thought...
'It does make sense!
I'll ration them and only eat one 5 pack this weekend.'
Saving me money on next weeks shop.
All sounds very reasonable, you'll agree?


Blow me down with a feather...
The next Walkers (for Hubs) Salt and Shake
also elicited the same response.
'That's easy thought I, I'll put one packet of wotsits back and get himself one pack of 
S & S.  (I love him, however not two packets worth)
The machine said save 49p buying two.
Ditto the same reasoning applied.


Struggling home under a weight of fat and salt laden potatoes
and far, far worse than that elbow grease by any other name.
Was I delighted by my canny buying?


Blooming hell No!


I felt I'd been conned.


And dear reader (at this rate there will soon be only one)
is how I feel about swops and give aways.


They're a ploy to get comments and followers,
and like the 'nice' Mr Supermarkets... 
their darstardly plan is working.


I'm off to cower under the...
'seemed like a bargain not to be missed...
'Now with wings' mountain!?!

Surely she's far too old?


*** 

Why, Oh Flaming WHY...

am I such a stroppy moo?

Always have been and, ghastly thought always will be!

For fear of losing yet another follower

(now down to 24) 

due in part, methinks to the never to be mentioned...

race, religion or politics.

Yes hands up...

I did KILL Herman and...

Yes I do think the Euro is doomed.

One down 24 to go!

'Remember LL this blog is purely for you'

"Go on indulge yourself!

Use as many exclamation marks as you want...

let's face it...

that's exactly how you talk...

twaddle, overlaid with cliches."


And while we're on the subject...
Is anyone as sick to the back teeth as me with the 
Cath Kidson, Emma Bridgewater, Orla Whatnot,
Sarah Raven, Oka, Boden...
 dah de dah...
You just can't open a magazine without them being featured.
I thought Maggie got shot of the closed shop?


There are so many talented new kids on the block... 
For goodness sake give them a chance.


I love my monthly magazines and at nearly four quid a throw, are they good value for money?   Don't they realise we know that the mock-up features are just a reason for the editorial team to get oddles of freebies to photograph?  To then trundle off home with the goodies. 


Real people in real homes that's all I ask.
Is it too much?


The one magazine that seems to be, like good wine improving with age is...
Homes and Antiques.


It's bright, and as the February issue says
'Chic & cheerful' 
'Stunning Real Homes' 


I love it!

Happy Days!


***

Imagine if you can...

an early candlelit dinner.

It's a rainy first night of the new year.

Sitting on opposite sides of the table,we peer lovingly into each others eyes.

Conversation is very muted, energy is at an all-time low. 

The cold collation 

with the air of Christmas past is before us.

Valiantly we plough on;

we are of the generation of 

'Waste not,want not' after all.

With one mind we decide that, with great relief, 

tomorrow will bring a return to our normally modest

calorie intake. 

A gentle tentative knocking is heard at the door.

My first thought is 

'Oh no!'

As much as I adore surprise visitors, 

now is not the time for me to be able to turn on the charm.

You've heard of metal fatigue?

Well the elastic in my rather dashing lounge wear trews

was suffering elastic fatigue.

Plus my femme fatale persona was seriously struggling under the weight of the extra pounds, plus the liberty bodice warmth of my newly bought two piece.

Hubs went to the door to discover a neighbour clutching a card 

and a plastic sealed container...

the temporary residence of Herman.

Now if you haven't heard of 

Herman The German Friendship Cake

I hope you never do.

As luck would have it Hubs had asked me this morning would I like another paper.

My reply 

'For a change will you get me the 'Mail'

Knowing full well, that all evidence would be disposed of in the early hours of the morning by the paper collection.

'Nobody need know!'

What's this got to do with the price of cheese in Woolworths I hear you cry.

Idly flicking through the paper I came upon an article about 

the dastardly Herman.

Smugly I thought fat lot of chance of it turning up here.

Nobody, but NOBODY finds us tucked up, 

out of the way in our quiet little backwater.

Kleeneze, Avon, hawkers, Jehovah Witnesses, politicians etc. 


Frigging Herman did though!

Looking for all the world like Frau Merkal's stockingless thighs.

Forewarned is forearmed they say.

Thank goodness for the Mail I say!

Never thought I'd hear myself say that.

Otherwise being me, 

I probably would have fed the brute, made the cake 

and carefully divided him up and passed him on.

"You can't put me in the fridge I will die."

"If I stop bubbling, I am dead!!!"

'Well Herman!  I've got news for you...

like the Euro matey...

YOU'RE Dead!'

***

Up the resolution!

1.      I'm not making any

2.      With tummy muscles as taut as the strings on a ukulele...

I'm sticking to the diet

3.      Now I'm a lapsed Kitsch and Stitch organiser, I intend to stare vacantly into space...

allowing my creative juices to flow free

4.      As my commissions for the customisation of ageing denim picks up a pace...

I intend to fulfil my order book, then shamelessly tout for more

5.      I really will spill the beans on my experiences on Masterchef,

the unexpurgated version an'all...

are you ready for it one idly wonders?

6.      My poetry gene is trying to break out...

I will at all costs endeavour to keep it in

7.      ditto my autobiography brain cell... 
there's only so much self-flagellation a girl can take...
or should that read flatulation?


8.      Every bone in my old bod cries out for me not to invite any more folk around for...
food.  


9.     Have the directions to the nearest Macky D permanently pinned on the fridge


10.      Father Christmas gave me a 
'Research Your Family History' Made Easy Book.
This should keep me quiet for at least six months...Why?
I find it hard enough finding my car keys let alone centuries long lost relatives  


11.      New multi-bladed finger felting tool...
Thinks...
'must get to the wool rovings lurking in the deep, deeper, deepest recesses of my 
Witch and the Wardrobe ever expanding closet!'
Before the greedy munching moths get there first.


12.      Typing this year in large can't ignore instructions for next years...
Christmas - What not to buy list...       
and making flaming sure I stick to it, to the blooming
letter!
are there self help groups I wonder?


13.      As good a place as any to stop I suppose


14.      A Happy New Year to my 25 followers...
just can't seem to get above 25...
must be a magical number for me...
probably cos that's how old I think I still am!


Toodle pip...
not too many bubbles now!

***     

Do's and Don'ts of my Christmas repast...

As I climb into my Christmas leisure wear...

Oh alright - jim-jams.

I got to thinking...

Are twenty six different English cheeses a tad too many for the cheeseboard?
Which only today have had a mouse, nay a shrew type attack.


Was the whole fillet of beef a little on the generous side for just two?


Boxing day - the 'normal' size organic free range, all singing, all dancing,
lived a happy life 'til the moment of the old chip-chop, fowl a little OTT?
Oops... 
I nearly forgot ALL the usual trimmings


On arrival of WSD, Why Oh Why, did I feel a little mean on presentation of cold cuts?
Yes the gammon was of the highest calibre, Masterchef finalist-cooked in mulled orange juice, finished off with marmalade and grain mustard glaze.


Two Christmas cakes - Yes you heard right!
One dozen mince pies, which on going to press are still languishing in the tin in my cold store. 


The sticky toffee pudding (don't go there LL)
Sorry Maggie!


Wednesday dawned bright and clear...
from out of the depths of the deep freeze came...
a leg of 'free range, organic'
those words once a frigging gain.
A happy pig fed on a diet of apples and acorns.


Hold tight...
not content with that, I had to add to the 
spicy rubbed leg, a slow roasted belly of the same animal.


The trifle I was planning to serve with semifreddo and...
clotted cream.


***
In the death by proper vanilla custard twilight of the evening...
 I trudged across the no-mans land of the courtyard to my 'outhouse'
read walk-in fridge; 
(sounds so much better what!)
I decided in a rash moment of frugality to refreeze the pud.
Not before a spoonful had been Greg Wallace approved.


Back in I wandered to the family playing
Sleeping Queens
who hadn't even noticed my absence.
Sleeping Cooks my tired and tight body cried.


Wandering back up to the Winter room I weakly floated the idea of a soupcon of
trifle, cheese, dessert wine to accompany the aforesaid?
The wall and wail of cries made me think...


'Why?'


The worse bit of this post is I haven't exaggerated...
Well only the 26 cheeses.


I'm not proud, I'm aghast at my foolhardiness.
Each and every year I say 
'Never again!'


This year I am determined 
that 2012 will see a new regime, you know the funny thing is...
people will I hope still want to come and share food with us.  


A bowl that my son Aaron gave me eons ago, says it all...


'The company makes the feast!'

***

Doris would like to take...

this opportunity to wish you a 

'Very Merry Christmas

and a 

Happy and more importantly -

Healthy 

 New Year!'

Christmas morning fried egg brekkie

Being a out and out culinary snob...

the eggs are, quite obviously organic free range!!!

And another thing the Ketchup won't be gracing my egg!!!

Walk Lettice, then back for bubbles and pressies.


Have fun every bod!


Best love,


Linda


XXX

You just know you are slipping into your dotage when...

elasticated trousers seem strangely, horribly appealing

going to bed on a Sunday afternoon - means 40 winks!

The word foundation means undergarments, not your latest self-build project.

Rigby and Peller holds you in a thrall

Zumba; isn't that located somewhere in your lower back?

'Vintage' - stuff you remember as a kid

Marks and Spencer's food dept draws you in... Nooo!

Your new Christmas outfit is a leisure two piece

(Yes, jim-jams)

And double and treble YES...

M & S AND elasticated.

Cath Kidson - isn't that someone you went to primary school with?

Emma Bridgewater?  I vaguely remember her from evening classes?

Jordan - isn't that the capital of ?

Eileen Fowler, Constance Spry, Mary Quant...

now you're talking.

Songs of Praise are a must on a Sunday afternoon...

at least you can turn the sound up without everyone thinking you're deaf.

'Poor dear, she seems to have found God!'

(not really surprising this close to the off)

Looking backwards


Planning holidays...
you think Saga


Family coming to visit...
all you think of is ...
the work!


Face lift...
Fork lift more like

an early night... means a good nights kip?


The only batteries you buy are for your flaming deaf aid


I could go on...
trouble is I've forgotten what it was I kicked off about?


Happy Days!


***

Doris says...

'Who would have thought when you watched

Masterchef last night that 19 years ago you got to the finals of

Masterchef?'

'Certainly not me Mum!'

What a programme...

If tears were the main ingredients...

we had a trolley-load here.

Things have certainly moved on since my appearance in 1992.

AND I will be the first to admit that I wouldn't even have got through the first round, let alone Monica and the skills test!

All three finalists were worthy of the title I thought.
 Although I wanted Claire to win, 
to me it was obvious Ash would walk away with the title.


***


This afternoon when I ironed the top I wore in he final.


Yes, you heard it right...
NINETEEN YEARS ON!

that's the white 'Cartoon' top on the left.


Yes that is me!  The years haven't been kind I'll admit!


The lady with the white bobby sox is the one who I will one day tell you about.
(Promise Maggie!) 


I got to thinking how thanks to Masterchef, My life changed.


And I didn't even win!


That's why I have absolutely no worries for Steve and Claire.


Happy Days.


***

Some 'old' year resolutions...

My first diary entry of this year...

across the top of week 19 - 25 December 

this is what I wrote...

'Last time I didn't take any notice of what not to buy...

so this year I'm only saying small portions of beautifully prepared food.

Might try turkey crown (What? I don't even like turkey), small pre-cooked ham (pre-cooked? I always enjoy cooking the ham). No pheasants or chicken.  Small portions of cheese.'

Every year I write more or less the same thing and yes you've guessed it...

Every cotton-picking year I don't take a blind bit of notice.

However... 

(I do hate that word because you always know there will be something unpalatable coming hard on its tail) this year I will try to follow my own advice.

Not least because having lost two stone and more still to lose. 
I don't intend to flaming foie gras my chances.

This Christmas as it's just the two of us I am preparing Beef Wellington

(alright I have ordered a whole fillet, but intend to make individual ones to freeze for unexpected visitors.)

I will cook a small-ish piece of gammon

(I always love the cold cuts with pickle etc on Boxing Day)

Having spent a happy life rooting around my friend's Kentish orchard,

full to pussy's bow with gently fermenting apples and crunchy acorns.  I know

 the whole leg of organic free range pork will be delish.

That will be served on WSD's arrival the day after Boxing Day.

I'm not a great pud person, although I may make Sticky Toffee pudding from the lovely Maggie's blog.


Cheese is my weakness, 
along with a slug of my home-made sloe gin or damson vodka.


That is the first of many old year resolutions I intend to share.
I'm hoping that way, I won't be tempted to, as of yore let them slip.


***

It's not OCD I suffer from, it's...

OFM

It is that time of the month again...

Observer Food Monthly.

I just love it.


As I've said before, I do have a pash for Nigel Slater and I'm sort of in love with Jay Rayner,
however what is in no doubt...


I DO LOVE MY FOOD.


Those of my followers might think me a bit of a hussy I don't care.


Fast and loose in the kitchen department?


Life is for living has always been my mantra...
give it some welly.  That's why this year I've had to lose two stone.


Today sitting scoffing on the sofa.  On the sofa?
Yes you heard it right.
Every other meal we sit at the table, always with  linen napkins (not serviettes, we are talking the Observer here), candles lit (so much kinder to ladies of a certain age!)


I nearly choked on my HOME MADE prawn wrap with rocket leaves and guacamole.


Why? 


Jay admitted to owning a smoking jacket and... 
wait for it, a CRAVAT.  
I wouldn't mind but it had taken me this long to get over his sneaky occasional trips to his local KFC.


The trail of prawn mayo down my front, looking for all the world like a stream making its way to the sea, was nothing compared to me imagining him sat in front of his wide screen telly watching a food fest called Epic Meal Time.


Which was worse?  The contents of the programme or the vision of his loveliness kitted out in this Dickensian apparel.


***