Celebrating Thursday lunch

Name three things beginning with P that would appeal to a money-wise foodie.

My choices are:

1. Profiteroles

2. Prosecco

3. Prezzo

And I’m back from our Thursday outing having enjoyed all three!

I signed up to the Prezzo mailing list ages ago and have taken advantage of many of their special offers. Having zero pride linked to a decidedly Scottish thriftiness, I had always put my birth date down on the various forms in the hope that there would be a special offer for my birthday. And this week there was! A free bottle of Prosecco.

This was good news. My husband loves his glass of Shiraz on our days out, but when it comes to bubbles, his favourite tipple has always been Prosecco. So Plan A for lunch today was our favourite Prezzo (Beccles) and that free bottle of Prosecco.

Because I would be driving, I planned a long leisurely lunch with calamari (another joint favourite) as starter, and maybe even a pudding to finish off.

Here Prezzo has come up with a winning idea: a small helping of pud alongside your coffee. And on offer were profiteroles, my favourite pud of all time.

For those of you on diets, I apologise, but I’m sure I’ve given fair warning in the past that I am a genuine, unapologetic foodie. And the profiterole was yummy!

We had a delightful outing – good food, lovely bubbles, and general cheerfulness.

Two birthday treat lunches in a  week that celebrates that milestone serenaded by the Beatles with the chorus ‘Will you still need me? Will you still feed me?’ I don’t think I need to worry about that! (But the diet starts tomorrow!)

 

 

Of cats and conservatories

My birth-day celebrations seem to be turning into a delightful week-ful of  happy events, with more to come. And the cats aren’t being left out!

Lucy, the silky squeaky hinge, is on the left and Bella, the increasingly vociferous talking cat, is on the right. They love the  conservatory which is flooded with sunshine for much of the day. The plants are doing nicely too!

 

Happy birthday in Hoxne

One of the joys of Suffolk is that there seems always to be more to explore! Today, my Tuesday morning friends took me to Hoxne (pronounced Hoxen) for my birthday lunch at the Swan Inn. The original building was built by the Bishop of Norwich in 1480 and the Inn today retains a fascinating jumble of roof lines and wonderful old timbers.

The huge 12 foot inglenook fireplace boasted a wonderful log fire but sadly there wasn’t a spare table in that room.

Instead we were seated in the snug and provided with an extensive menu. The decision to go for main course plus pud rather than starter plus main was taken rapidly and without dissent. Duck for four and belly pork for one was followed by creamy almond rice pudding served with plum compote, vanilla cheesecake with raspberry coulis (for two), rhubarb and apple crumble, and a luscious chocolate brownie with ice cream. Yummy!

Hoxne is a picturesque village (first settled 320,000 years ago) with a fascinating history. Legend has it that King Edmund was captured by the Danes here and martyred when he refused to renounce his Christian faith. His head was severed from his body and thrown away, but found and guarded by a wolf who called Edmund’s followers so they could restore the head to the body – which then miraculously joined up again!

Hoxne’s other claim to fame is the Hoxne Hoard – the biggest discovery of Roman treasure in the UK. Over 15,000 coins and more than 200 artefacts (spoons and ladles etc.) were found in 1992 by a metal detectorist out searching for a farmer’s lost hammer. The items, of silver and gold, dated from the late 4th century.

Hoxne has a great website www.hoxne.net which, like the village itself, is well worth a visit. Oh dear, is it obvious I did some copywriting for a tourist magazine once upon a time?

Two steps forward, one step back is still progress

I admit I’m a foodie. So when I woke late this morning and considered what would I really like to do, it came to me that I’d like to skip breakfast and take myself down to Di’s cafe at Southwold Harbour for one of her fresh-from-the-oven fruit scones and a big mug of coffee.

It also came to me that over the years, interactions with John, my husband — long before he was my husband and also once we had married — tended to be over a table set with food and drink.

When I was a brand-new commissioning editor with McGraw-Hill UK, he was one of the fleet of authors I inherited from my predecessor and instructed by my boss to take out to lunch and discover whether there was still a book being written that we’d want to publish.

So I did. Lunch was at the Diplomat Restaurant in a gracious hotel on the square where the American Embassy was in London. I remember this because, many years later, after we had married, we used to return there for their fabulous Sunday buffet lunches – the seafood table centred by an ice sculpture!

I didn’t publish John’s book. My brief was for a programme of practical, serious books for business people. His was quirky, humorous and needed illustrations. It saw the light of day not much later with another publisher.

Thinking of Di’s luscious fruit scones and the comfort of her cafe on the edge of the harbour, I decided it would be good to offer John coffee there. Maybe over a table set with scones and coffee, we would be better able to communicate than in the care home yesterday and on Wednesday afternoon.

And so it turned out. I think also time of day affects people with dementia, and I think John is always more lucid in the morning. We enjoyed our coffees (two each) and scones (one huge, fresh-baked one with butter – each) and I hope reached a kind of meeting of minds on  the way ahead.

Yes, this involves a return to our Thursday outings – with the focus on a nice lunch, so this will be no hardship for a foodie like me! It also widens the options. If I don’t have to also provide towns with a range of charity shops, we can try nice villages with foodie pubs.

And so we progress. It does feel like two steps forward and one step back, but maybe that doesn’t matter. Today’s mini-outing was pleasant and friendly and makes up for the last couple of painful visits.

You have to do what you can do. Sometimes it’s good to try something you’re not sure about, but in the end, it has to be good for you and the person you’re trying to care for. If you’re happy, there’s a better chance that they will be too. It certainly means you’ll be better able to cope.

So while I’m sorry I can’t hack sitting in the goldfish bowl of the care home’s conservatory twice a week, maybe we don’t have to do that yet – and I’m grateful. Hopefully, there will be many more pleasant, friendly mini-outings to enjoy together.

 

 

Comfort of a special kind!

There was a pop-song way back in the 60s about circles. I feel a bit trapped into a never-ending circle at the moment.

Today is Day 2 of the new regime and off I went, a little later as agreed, for a cup of tea at the care home with my husband. When I got there I discovered I was too late for tea which had already been served. A rather larger group than on Wednesday swivelled beady eyes on me – a few in armchairs round the edge of the conservatory, and a closed circle of ladies round a table. No staff members in sight.

My instinctive response was that of a rabbit in the headlights: freeze! But I forced myself to walk over to where my husband was ensconced at his table in the corner with pile of books and big mug of coffee. He has set it up as a table for one so there is nowhere for me to sit.

And the silence. If I lower my voice to speak privately to him, he can’t hear me. And I can’t bear to shout – in public, as it were. Especially to this unsmiling, unwelcoming audience who watch my every move.

Let me admit honestly I can’t bear it. And I couldn’t bear it, so we went up to his room on the pretext of checking some things. But conversation of any kind was not possible today.

Except he was surprised we hadn’t gone out yesterday as usual for our outing. He couldn’t remember why he’d said he didn’t want to. Maybe the cost of the lunch. Or the hassle for me.

So I think perhaps we’re back to Thursday outings, but shorter, with the focus on lunch. We shall see.

And as I fled, I could feel the grip of the circular treadmill. So I went down to the pier and bought myself an ice cream with a chocolate flake.

Southwold pier – and in the left-hand corner you can see another customer with ice-cream

Comfort-eating, I know. And yes, very comforting!

A different kind of Thursday

No joint outing today but a need to get myself to a bigger town to buy the right kind of sim card for a dongle. Isn’t it amazing how these words have become taken-for-granted and familiar? Not so long ago, they would have been strange and mysterious. And a century or two ago would have been open to charges of witchcraft or magic, and the perpetrators would have been in danger of burning at the stake or hanging as witches and warlocks.

Times change. When the first train offered transport for passengers, it was felt the high speeds would not be safe for ladies and it took time for intrepid females to climb onto the benches in the open-top trains and enjoy the ride.

Today, I decided I would have an outing of my own so I took the train from my home town all the way up the coast to Lowestoft for the princely cost of £4.30 return (reduced thanks to my Senior Railcard), duly purchased the sim card, loaded with 90 days’ internet time – and then let myself loose to shop.

I am not a dedicated shopper. Browsing and mooching round shops is not my idea of fun – rather the opposite I’m afraid – which is why the standard Thursday outing with my husband who loves shops was slightly more sacrificial than it would appear! However today, being free to choose which shops to enter, I had fun. My selection began with Waterstones (all those books!), Rymans (all that stationery!), WHSmith (books and stationery!) – and I admit to three shops which sell ladies’ clothes. Too, too boring. I came away with three plain t-shirts from M&S and one plain t-shirt from the local department store, where I then had lunch before heading back to the railway station.

 

The train left exactly on time and the journey home took 34 minutes. We wended our way through water meadows where plump cows and tiny calves grazed, past woods with the beginnings of bluebell carpets, and the train slowed conveniently at the fascinating boating centre at Oulton Broad so I could grab a picture.

Then past people’s back gardens and finally home, well-satisfied with my outing.

I’ve been pondering grace and love this week as I prepare for two services on Sunday. Today’s outing has given me a much-needed tonic. I come back to my desk feeling I’ve benefited from a good dose of both grace and love today! So, may the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us today and always. Amen.

 

 

 

Memory fixes

Day One of the new regime.

I duly presented myself at 3 p.m. to find my husband and three other residents in the large, warm but airy conservatory. One lady  was asleep. The other had taken herself to the far side from the others and was sitting in solitary splendour. She had also taken it upon herself to close the door to the outside world to the loudly expressed annoyance of the other male resident. There appears to be a bit of a running battle there!

‘Three o’clock?’ came the response to my arrival. ‘More like four o’clock before the tea arrives.’

So we waited.

My husband began a story about the Swiss owners of a Scotch whisky firm who engaged his services in recruitment many years ago. This was followed by a mangled version of a rather good story about a Doberman. My husband had been interviewing senior candidates in the lounge of a West Country hotel which had been set apart for his purposes. However, it is difficult to communicate that to a dog who is used to having the run of the house. This animal stood so tall and the interviewee’s chair was so low that when the dog appeared, its eyes were on a level with the candidate… whose reactions were interesting! Those who withstood this experience turned out to be the better candidates for the job and so ‘The Doberman Test’ was born, and found its way into print.

Not a Doberman – just a very nice dog!

I had brought my laptop with me, having returned it en route to laptop hospital for some final tweaking – which involved the neat and painless removal of the too-small memory and the insertion of a much larger one.

As I listened to my husband trying to tell his story, I wished it were possible for human memories to be fixed so easily!

 

Down with niggles

I thought I welcomed change. But as Bella the talking cat comes into my study complaining that as far as she’s concerned it is now supper time and  she wants fed NOW! – I realise that, like Bella, I’ve been going around complaining in my head.

I moved house almost exactly five weeks ago and I have to confess I’m not yet feeling at all settled where I am. I still can’t find things – like the research notes for the novel – despite having properly unpacked lots of boxes and checked all the others. (I’m going to have to restart that process. Groan.)

This week I’m going to try out a new routine with my husband. He has declared that he’s not really that keen on going out on Thursdays and would prefer that I visited him more frequently at the care home, so I’m planning to go in for tea two or three afternoons a week. I think this will enable me to monitor his care and his condition more effectively. Tea, however, is served at 3 p.m., inconveniently early. I hear the complaint and dislike myself for even mentioning it!

I hate feeling like a Moaning Minnie but I seem to have let a scratchy gaggle of niggles get to me. Quite unreasonable when we’ve had a run of beautiful days and the trees are leafing up, the birds are nesting and singing, and the flowers are blooming.

I took this picture while having coffee at a friend’s house this morning. She has amazing green fingers and her garden is a joy to behold.

Funny how niggles can steal our joy if we let them. Definitely time to fight back!

Bank Holiday Sunday in the company of angels!

It’s a Bank Holiday weekend here in England. A three-day holiday. A friend commented ‘Bank Holidays just aren’t such fun when you’re retired. Every day is a holiday.’ My feeling is that Bank Holidays aren’t such fun when you’re on your own. I can do one day completely solo, and two days at a pinch, but three is pushing my tolerance of solitude!

So I was delighted to be invited to join an outing yesterday afternoon. Our minister’s wife Pat has her sister Joan visiting, and she included a friend and myself in a delightful expotishun to St Mary’s Church, Huntingfield.

On the outside this church is a quintessential English church in a classic English churchyard full of fresh-cut-grass smells and birdsong. But inside it is a paradise of angels!

Rector’s wife and talented artist Mildred Holland took eight months in 1859 to paint the chancel ceiling and over the next three years the nave, with the most glorious hosts of angels, plus flowers and lavish decoration to turn the roof of the church into a blaze of wonder.

This is an old pic and not very good, sorry. Do look on the St Mary’s Huntingfield website

We put our (Val’s!) pound coin in the box and the ceiling lights came on so we could gaze in awe – and take photographs! If you’re visiting, do take time to admire the carved pew ends, including the wonderfully tactile greyhounds on the choir stalls.

And of course, after that we had to have tea! What a glorious way to spend an afternoon – in the company of angels?

 

 

The china and the flowers

 

Waves splash lazily up Southwold beach

then drift gently back into a sparkling sea.

A sunny May morning. I stop for coffee at Suzie’s Beach Cafe,

sit facing the sea at a pristine white table.

Bright pink tulips in a bright pink china jug.

 

Suzie says ‘Just because this is a beach cafe

doesn’t mean we have to serve crappy stuff in crappy plastic.’

 

I sip my coffee from a stripy china mug,

nibble home-made flapjack, and consider:

just because life is short and sometimes freighted with suffering,

doesn’t mean you have to focus on the crappy stuff.

Time instead to break out the china and the flowers.