Very busy cleaning…proper cleaning: cupboards empty, shelves washed, moving furniture, cleaning skirting boards kind-of cleaning.
My mum is coming to stay!!
I’ve “bottomed” the kitchen & the dining room; Mr FD has done the bathroom and his study. Still got rooms to do, but we’re getting there. Too knackered to do anything other than flop in the evening.
And the cats are no help…
The Boring Old Farts decided to join in a little with the Fete Patronal last night. We had already arranged with Richard that we could stay the night with him, as Saturday night is always the noisiest and longest drawn out of the Fete, and he invited us and Friend Cathy up for a meal. It was very nice – we had mozzarella,tomato & avocado salad, with a green salad. Then a delicious vegetable gratin, breaded cod, new potatoes and peas, and then the Banoffi Pie that I took up. After this we decided to come back to the village to watch the Son et Lumière display and the fireworks. We were a bit late, so we missed the procession of stilt walkers – or so we thought! Actually, the stilt walker (singular) was a part of the S&L display.
He and his LED lit companions arrived in the square, and after a delay of about 10 minutes started their slightly surreal display – juggling and spinning sparkler-like fireworks, leaping on sprung stilts, skipping on stilts. It was quite amazing.
One of them was high up on a trolley affair, playing the role of the Queen, I think, as the other performers would bow to her and she appeared to be directing their actions. As I said, there was one stilt walker, on these sprung stilts, so he leapt, and bounded around at great speed; there were two other performers who span these firework/ sparkler things around with great alacrity and skill. It was, quite frankly, not what I had expected at all, but very good.
My photos are rather disappointing: I don’t have the knack of using my phone to take photos, so these really only give a poor flavour of what was going on.
We had to feed the cats and check that they were OK with all the noise, so we went back to the house to watch the firework display from the balcony.
While the display was very impressive (although my photos certainly aren’t) I copuldn’t help feeling very sorry for the Poor Cats (the feral cats that I feed) and wondering if they’d found a place where they might feel safe from the horrid flashy banginess that was going on not too far from their home.
Not our display, but a better photo. Not taken by me!
I may go aong to the Place this afternoon to watch the Waiter’s Obstacle Course – it might be quite fun.
By the way, the title for this post comes from our belief that Belgians are really rather weird. This stems from our trip to the Christmas Market at Brussels, where there was the most amazing carousel – not with ponies, or tea cups, or motor bikes, as you would find on normal carousels, but with wooden articulated caterpillars and huge spiders.
There was another, with a tiny rocket, with just one seat in it, which went directly upwards, as the carousel went round, through a hole in the canopy, and then down again, with the face of the occupant peering out through the window.
Not only that, but the nativity scene in the main square included lit up sheep (in blue, red and green), some of which had evidently escaped and set up their home on the balcony of the Town Hall… And, of course, there is the Atomium (I couldn’t remember the name so I googled “Brussels Ball Thing” Google knew what I wanted!!); it pleases me that in 2013 CNN named this as the World’s Most Bizarre Building! We visited – you can go inside – and yes, it is bizarre!
So, having watched last night’s rather strange and bizarre Son et Lumière spectacle, I turned to Mr FD and said “Are we sure they’re not Belgian…?” because all the evidence points towards it…!
I don’t know if it’s the same in the UK, or the USA, but here in France it is becoming more and more difficult to find cereal without chocolate in it – whatever the type of cereal, there’s a version of it with chocolate. Even Special K, that well known dieter’s brand has a chocolate version!
Mr FD did the shopping on Thursday, and as we were unpacking he muttered an oath of annoyance – he’d bought chocolate meusli instead of fruity meusli by mistake.
Never mind, I said, I’ll make cake. And so, this morning, I headed to my trusty recipe book…
When I was young, and newly married and eager to be the “perfect wife” (whatever she looks like!) I decided to keep a recipe book with cuttings and favourite recipes from magazines stuck into it. I even had sections (here’s pretentiousness for you!) labelled “Cellar Book” and “Dinner Party Menus” I wasn’t really very committed to these pages though…I only ever wrote one thing in them:
Apparently on 31st December – but I don’t know what year – Paul, Sharon & Judith (my BiL, his wife & my SiL) came for a meal. We had Paté (courtesy of Sainsbury), Oriental style salmon, Camargue red rice and mange tout. Pudding (no idea what it was!) came courtesy of Paul, who is a chef. And that’s it…No other record of dinner parties – although we did have friends for meals at regular intervals.
I stuck some very random recipes into this book, which I have never used and can’t imagine I ever will! For example, here’s the recipe for Fillet Steak Royale:
I’m not going to be buying fillet steak for anyone!! Although the sauce looks rather good – it might work with extra mushrooms as a pasta sauce!
There are however some less showy, or expensive, recipes that I turn to every now and then – Michael Barry’s Duck with apricots is one that was featured on BBC “Good Food” way back when the TV show started in 1984. Quite simple, but rather nice.
DUCK au Michael Barry
serves 2
To serve: tagliatelli, mange touts, carrot batons
But in my recipe book, it’s the “Baking” pages that I turn to most regularly as there are one or two recipes there that are my “go to” recipes. As the pages testify, I’m not the tidiest of cooks
And so the recipe that I used today is one that can be very easily adapted. Here it is:
OAT & ORANGE TEA LOAF
Tea loaf in the sense that you have it with tea, rather than it’s made with tea – although I have a recipe for that kind of Tea loaf too (see below)!
And there you have it! Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Sorry the weights and measures are in UK “old money” – it shows how old the recipe is!
This time, however, instead of the Crunchy Oat cereal I used the Carrefour Chocolate & Nut meusli, that Mr FD had bought by mistake, I added some nuts instead of the sultanas, and used milk instead of orange juice. All finished and put into the oven, I then realised I’d bought two very brown bananas in order to put them in the cake…So I made another one, using two mashed up bananas in the milk/egg mixture as well. Here are the results of my Domestic Goddess-ishness:
Two chocolate-and-nut Meusli tea loaves (one with added banana), and 14 adapted recipe Anzac biscuits. Jan told me, in no uncertain terms, that if the Anzac biscuit recipe was messed about with, the results no longer had the right to be called Anzac biscuits. Fair enough. These are therefore Choc-nut-meusli biscuits. The recipe that I adapted can be found at the end of this post
At the same time as I’ve been baking, I also had a pan simmering away for two hours with a tin of condensed milk in it – I’m making a banoffi pie to take up to Richard’s tonight. I’ve already crushed chocolate/coconut granola biscuits for a base, and that is chilling in the fridge. The toffee sauce is now cooling, and the bananas waiting to be sliced. I kept a sharp eye on the water level, and had the timer set on my mobile…I once had a disaster with making toffee sauce like this, when I forgot about the tin of condensed milk, it boiled dry and then exploded, leaving toffee spattered around the kitchen. Mr FD has not let me forget it!
And, to end with, here is my super-simple recipe for Tea Bread with tea in it. It’s yet another “old money” recipe.
You can use any tea for this – your usual builders’ tea, yes, but also a red fruits tea, or a Rooibus work quite well. I’m not sure mint tea would work, however. Lemon tea might bring an added citrussy note to the finished cake.
Do let me know if you try any of these recipes!
Fractured Faith sets a flash fiction challenge, based on receipts that he picks up (we all have to have our hobbies!!) asking people to write fiction based on what is shown on the receipt.
This week he offered us this receipt:
This really is “flash fiction” – I wrote it, and didn’t really think much about it. I haven’t even tried honing it or editing it in any way. I just thought I’d write and then (near enough) press “publish”. It was a bit of fun. And it is based on a real experience that I had…
It had been the morning from hell – yet again.
PE really was her least favourite subject to teach her Year 6s – and it was bloody football this term. What did she know – or care – about football? The kids knew more about the off side rule than she did, and were always whining.
“Miss, it was a penalty. Did you see the way Kevin laid into me?” (I know how he feels, Dean)
“Miss, I hate football.” (I know how you feel, Gary)
“Please can we have Marie on my team, Miss, she’s better than Harriet…” (I couldn’t care less…)
Finally, she trailed them all back to the classroom, where she suggested they had silent reading for the last ten minutes before lunch. She was really looking forward to the cheese-and-beetroot sandwich that Steve had prepared for her, particularly as she’d not had time for breakfast. As usual, she’d not had time to finish all her marking the evening before, so she’d had to leave early to complete the task at school. Five sets of thirty books took too long to mark, especially as one set had been creative writing, so she had had to wade through thirty rambling, badly spelled stories, which showed a remarkable lack of concern for any form of grammar. And, of course, each required an encouraging comment from her at the end.
The bell rang for lunch, interrupting her thoughts.
“OK, class,” she raised her voice to be heard above the sudden rush of noise that greeted the sound of the bell. “Enjoy your lunch, and see you back here at one o’clock”
Blessed silence descended as the last of the class slammed their way out of the room. Laying her head on her desk for a moment, she breathed deeply and savoured the momentary relief of quiet. Then, re energised, she reached into her bag for her lunch. Nothing, except her purse, her phone, the usual detritus…But no sandwich.
Reeling her thoughts back she reviewed her morning rush: grabbing the foil wrapped packet of sandwiches, she had noticed a stain on her skirt. That had required a rapid change of clothes, and a speedy exit from the house, forgetting to reclaim her lunch.
“Dammit!” she muttered.
Luckily, there was a baker’s near to school, which made good, but expensive, sandwiches. She rarely bought them, as she and Steve were saving for a deposit on a house, and every little economy was another tiny step further away from their squalid rented apartment. But today? Well, today she deserved a crusty cob, filled with something delicious – egg mayo, perhaps, or tuna and sweetcorn. Considering the choices, she hurried towards the main entrance. On a whim, and feeling generous, she opened the staff room door, and spoke as she went in
“I’m going to the shops. Anyone want anything?”
A pause. Great, there was only Gerry in there. Greasy, slobby Gerry who made her skin crawl every time she saw him. Every time he brushed past her in the corridor, just that little too closely.
“Yeah, love,” he said, “You can get me a paper.”
“Sure thing – what do you read? Guardian? Telegraph? Times?”
Gerry gave a snort.
“Nah. The Mirror. I’ll give you the money when you get back”
Taking a slurp from his cup of coffee, he turned back to the books he was marking – but not reading -with a rapid tick, and scribbled “Good” on each page.
The pleasure had gone from the idea of a shop bought sandwich. She had to go into the newsagents and buy a newspaper she wouldn’t be seen dead with. God, she thought, it’s even worse than buying The Sun….And they know me in that shop… What will they think of me buying The Mirror?
Finally, knowing she was being stupid, but unable to stop herself, she pulled her car keys out of her bag, and drove the five miles to the big, anonymous Tesco outside of town. There she rushed in, and grabbed the last, slightly dog-eared copy of the despised newspaper. Glancing around to check that there was no-one she knew, still painfully aware that she was acting in a ridiculous way, she handed the paper over to the cashier together with a £10 note. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact – please, don’t let her meet one of the parents from school…
After what felt like an eternity the cashier handed back her change and the paper. She folded it carelessly and shoved it into her bag; then, with a glance at her watch, she realised that there was only ten minutes before the end of lunch time. With a suppressed scream of annoyance, she screwed up the receipt and tossed it in the nearest trolley. No-one need ever know about this, she thought.
As she drove into the staff car park she heard the bell ring, signalling the end of the break. Gerry met her at the front door.
“Thanks, love,” he said, passing her the unpleasantly sweaty coins he was holding in his hand. “You took a long time. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble finding a copy…”
No one told us about this when we moved here!
This isn’t “our” Fete but gives an idea of what it’s like
Every year the village has its Fete Patronal. We knew about that. What we didn’t know when we bought the house is that it sets up in the square outside – a bumper cars, a mini roundabout, a mini dodgems, and RIGHT outside the house (so it’s a bit difficult getting out of the gate!) a huge Casino lorry that opens out to have slot machines and other arcade games. Round the corner is a shooting gallery, various crane-grab games and Hook-a-Duck, and a Wheel of Death ride.
In the past Mr FD has “had words” with the fairground people, which ended up with him getting threatened by a man weilding a metal bar, which wasn’t fun. Since then we’ve mostly just “sucked it up” as they say, and try to avoid the worst of it by going away on Saturday night…usually staying at friends’ houses out of the village. The Fete starts, on a small scale, on Friday, with the rides open, and then is full on for Saturday and Sunday, often not finishing until 2 am on Saturday night. You can imagine the noise with the bells-and-whistles-and-sirens of the rides, the music, the loudspeakers, the crowds… Sunday evening it closes about midnight – unless the weather is intemperate. You can imagine that we might just be praying for rain over this weekend… (because we’re boring old farty Killjoys!!)
This is this year’s programme:
It looks like a great time (if you like that sort of thing!) We’re not up for spoiling anyone’s fun, but it’s not much fun for us.
Actually, with the “Objectif Mars: Spectacle et animation” and the Course de garçon de café (a waiters’ race?) it seems to be getting bigger and more elaborate than in previous years. There are stilt walkers too!! (I’ve just looked up “Defilé de rue déambulation échassier“) Maybe we should go to the Vin d’honneur , get pickled and tryto enter into the spirit of things! It would probably make things better for us!
They’ve started the set up already (Thursday afternoon) with the big Dodgems going up on Tuesday. This afternoon they are trying out their sound system, so we have quite a lot of thumpy thumpy music going on. I think we must be getting old and grumpy, because I feel we should enjoy this as part of village life, and the programme looks exciting but it’s just not quite “us”. Added to which, I always feel terribly sorry for the Poor Cats whose territory gets invaded with the noise of fireworks and crowds. They must get terrified.
This year we’re decamping to Friend Richard’s house. He might be away, but he’s happy for us to stay in his house. The cats are OK with the fireworks if the shutters are all closed so we’ll be off. And locking the gate, as otherwise our courtyard is used as a convenient pissoire!
Grumble…grumble…complain…moan…
A friend of mine is marrying his boyfriend in September, so I wanted to make a card for D and his partner (who I don’t know).
Here’s a picture of D taken next to the statue of Red Rum in Southport:
Usually the wedding cards that I make are a bit more feminine in feel, and possibly more suitable for a heterosexual couple (though why I should think that I don’t know!!) Anyway, using a card I found on t’internet as inspiration, I’ve come up with this (Please note the inner piece of card with the quotation on it is mounted using a brad, so that it moves. That’s why it doesn’t look straight!):
As always, click on the image to biggify it.
What do you think? Is it too sombre for a wedding card? Should I have gone with something more flamboyant? D isn’t a very “camp” guy, so I didn’t want to go all rainbows and gay-rights-ish, but maybe this is a bit dour…Or is it simple and sophisticated?
I wondered about something like this one that I made earlier in the year.
I suppose I could do a rainbow gradation like this (although not with the Bible verse on it):
Or make something completely different…
I think this one’s a bit girly though…
What do you think?
We’ve had a very enjoyable week of social occasions – of which I took no photos whatsoever!!
THURSDAY LUNCH – Friend Sandra invited us to lunch – but we had to pretend we didn’t speak French, so her student got plenty of practice speaking English! She had invited several people, and had two tables set – the English table (only speaking English) and the French table. On our table were Mr FD & I, Gilles, the student, Veronique, a French English-teacher, and her children (who didn’t speak English). On the French table were Sandra, Gille’s wife, Veronique’s partner, and a lady from across the street whose name I’ve forgotten. It was fun. Sandra had made Marmite-on-bread amuse bouches, followed by onion tart. Then we had meatballs with home made pasta, then cheddar cheese and Jacob’s crackers, and finally a Bird’s trifle! 
For those who don’t know, Bird’s Trifle is basically a trifle in a packet – everything supplied : jelly, custard powder, artificial cream powder, dry sponge fingers – I’m not sure quite what the French made of it!
Gilles spoke well, but when he was looking tired, after about 2 hours, I took pity on him and spoke a bit of French! I know what it’s like when you get brain freeze in another language!
THURSDAY EVENING: Friend Cathy invited us up for a Champagne celebration for the end of my treatment. Lots of people were there – Cathy, Richard, Alison, Gerome, Mr FD, Clare, Jean & two of their three children. We sat outside and drank our way through several bottles as the sun went down.
Delicious food included a very good mirabelle tart made from scratch by Alyssia and Jo, the two children (who are now young adults, if I’m honest!) None of this bought-in pastry rubbish!!
SUNDAY LUNCH: We went over to “the other side of the mountain” to see our friends Mij and Bill. After a gin-and-tonic, we drove across to Le Crozet, to the restaurant there
It was lovely! I had a Caesar salad for starter – loads of chicken, and deliciously crunchy croutons. This was followed by supreme of pintarde (guinea fowl) which came with gratin dauphinoise (which I love!!) Then carpaccio of orange, with a cinnamon syrup, and a sharp, red fruit coulis. Delicious – and all for under 20€. I think it was 18,50€ (£16.80 or 21.43 USD) which, in my opinion, was very good value!
We went back to Mij & Bill’s for a good catch up. It was a very enjoyable and sociable time, spent with good friends.
TUESDAY AFTERNOON: I went to visit Charlotte, who I met during my first chemo session. She really helped me feel comfortable with the process, which she herself has to go through every three weeks, as her cancer is incurable and, I assume, advancing. She rarely talked about it, except in the vaguest terms, but I did understand that it is terminal. She is a tutor in French, English and maths, and TBH, I was a tad nervous about going to see her. It’s all very well chatting as you go through chemo, but I wasn’t sure how well we’d get on outside of the hospital setting.
I needn’t have worried – we got on like the proverbial house on fire. I took her a little rose plant, and she had bought me one! So we exchanged rose plants, drank fruit juice, ate brioche and discussed lots of things – poetry, writing books,teaching, holidays… The time flew by and before I knew it three hours had gone and I needed to be moving. What a delight! I hope that we can meet up again in the not too distant future.
As I explained a few posts ago, on Monday Mr FD and I drove our friends C&A to see their friends over in the Beaujolais region.
We duly dropped them off at their friend’s house (having driven around the village a few times, as the instructions we had assumed we’d be coming from a different direction, so things got a little confused for a moment or two) and then headed off to the chosen restaurant. We’d changed our mind about the restaurant, and we went to this one: La Maison des Beaujolais
This is the menu we chose:
ENTRÉES :
Médaillon de Foie Gras, Chutney de Saison
ou
Salade de Saint Jacques Panées aux Amandes, Coco et Banane Plantain
ou
Salade de Gambas Sautées, Lardons de Canard et Pousses de Soja
PLATS CHAUDS :
Croquettes de Ris de Veau , Beurre à l’Oseille
ou
Magret de Canard au Vinaigre de Framboises
ou
Filets de Rouget aux Queues de Langoustines
Fromages
Carte des Desserts
We started with an apero – I had the Aperetif Maison, the exact make up of which was, I was told, a secret. It was a red wine and fruit juice combo, which was very pleasant. As the driver, Mr FD had an orangina. These were served with an amuse-bouche of vegetables, chicken and chorizo.
For my starter, I had the foie gras, which was served with a pain d’epices (a type of gingerbread, whose sweetness goes well with the foie gras) and a delicious chutney. I don’t know what it was made of, although we suspected it might have been red grapes. :
Mr FD chose the salad de gambas, which he said was enjoyable, although the sauce was a bit harsh. It had an oriental flavour, and he thought it was made with soy sauce. It was an enormous plateful!
For the main course I chose to have the red mullet. I almost always choose duck if it is on the menu, but decided to go off-piste! I like fish, but rarely cook it and even more rarely choose it in restaurants. It was very nice:
As you can see, it came with rice, and a medley of summer vegetables. I enjoyed it very much. Mr FD had the duck (he nearly went for the ris-de-veau (which are sweetbreads) but he backed out at the last moment.
Cheese followed – a selection of three
Oops! I forgot to take the photo before I started! A goaty-herby one, which I enjoyed, a slice of Brie, or something equally mild and creamy, and then the one in the centre,which looks innocuous but had a very strong, agricultural flavour about it. I left that one, as I didn’t find it pleasant at all. These were served with a slice of nut bread and a small salad, scattered with flaked almonds.
Dessert: What would you have chosen?
I decided to have the Mille Feuille Glacé Ananas et son coulis. It was very nice:
I was getting forgetful about taking photos by now!!
We finished with coffe-for-me-tea-for-Mr FD, and just as we were getting to the end of our coffee/tea, C&A phoned to say they were ready to be picked up. We drove back to get them, and were forced to be polite to some people we didn’t know for about half an hour. Then a drive home through the rain.
It was a very enjoyable meal, so thank you C&A for that. Mind you, judging by this photo, I seem to be regarding my meal with some suspicion!!
I’ll tell you about my dinner tomorrow (I’ve got to download the photos) but here’s my review of the most recent read from Net Galley:
I am proud to be a Ten Reviews or More reviewer on Net Galley
I was sent this e-book, free-of-charge (yay!) by NetGalley, in return for an honest review. So, here it is:
BE STILL THE WATER
by Karen Emilson
The Net Galley synopsis says:
From the award-winning author of Where Children Run comes a smoldering tale, set in 1906 along the unspoiled shores of Lake Manitoba.
Be Still the Water brings us into the fold of the Gudmundsson family—immigrants determined to begin life anew in the Icelandic farming and fishing community of Siglunes. At the heart of the novel is dutiful Asta, the middle daughter who loves the local mill owner’s son, but the devastating secret they share drives a wedge between them, complicating their love for decades.
When Asta’s younger sister goes missing, she embarks on a quest to find her and bring her home. She tells the heartbreaking tale some seventy years later, while on her deathbed, finally discovering the truth of what happened on those fateful days that set the course for her life and the lives of everyone she loved.
Loosely inspired by area events, this is an emotional, slow-burning story of family love and sacrifice, of a secret revealed and promises broken—told in the spirit of the Icelandic Sagas.
While I might take issue with the adjective “smouldering” (please note, I’ve spelt it correctly!) I certainly wouldn’t complain about the rest of this description. I found this an interesting story, with characters that I both believed in, and engaged with. It covered both a period of history, and an area of the world, about which I knew nothing – I didn’t even know that Icelandic people settled in Canada!
The main protagonist, Asta, was a likeable character, and her struggles, together with those of her family, were well recounted. The story starts at the very end of her life, as she is preparing to die, and she wants to know what happened to her sister, who disappeared. In order to do this she “travels” back in time, and retells the story of her life. It is a life full of tragedy, secrets, hardship, but also the joy of family and community. As the telling unfolds we discover more about Asta and her history.
I did find it a little over-long, but, having said that, there was no extraneous episodes, no unnecessary descriptions. The writing was good, and (thank heavens) well-edited. I enjoyed this author’s style. I’d certainly recommend this to lovers of historical fiction, giving it four stars
DISCLOSURE
Prayer is like watching
for the kingfisher.
All you can do is
Be where he is likely to appear
And wait.
Often, nothing much happens.
There is space, silence
And expectancy.
No visible sign.
Only the knowledge
That He’s been there
And may come again.
Seeing or not seeing cease to matter,
You have been prepared.
But sometimes when you’ve almost
Stopped expecting it,
A flash of brightness
Gives encouragement.
Ann Lewin
View from the Teapot 