A taste of my...

day (Saturday).

Wake at 6.45am, a habit we have got into,

weekdays and weekends.  Now we have Ellie it is important we get her out for her first squat of the day.

Tea in bed as we read the paper on our flat things i.e. iPads.

Breakfast the regulation weekend two (weekdays, one!) slices of homemade bread toast, one multigrain the other white sourdough, still holey, still delish!  For weekend brekkie we sit at the table, sometimes with the candles lit.  We always light the candles at supper-time.

I went food shopping while himself took Ellie around the field for her first walk of the day, tipping with rain, then the surprise of an appearance of sun.  Lunch was half a delicious locally made pork pie with the leftover couscous salad from last night’s dinner.  We wandered around the ‘Local to Ludlow’ market where I bought these twisted thingybobbies 

together with a peanut feeder from the same maker.  It is now hanging in the Wrenery.  No sight as yet of any birds as next door has a better class of feast for our  feathered friends.  A quick nip in to our favourite pub which we haven’t been to since we got Ellie as it is in the the heart of town.  The centre of Ludlow is too scary a place as yet for a country dog.  As she was at home on this occasion we thought it a good opportunity to show our faces to give them an update on the one paw forward, two back of our four legged member of the family.

Another three laps of the field with me this time.

Home then for me to make us a tomato and red onion tart, light the fire and hunker down on a wet and miserable evening.  Glass of wine and a good book... what better?

Today we are...

standing smartly to attention not at the bottom of our bed but Ellie’s two beds.

There’s not many dogs that boast their own bedroom.  Ellie does!

Before you start to think... how grand, don’t, because her night bed is in the funny room that we haven’t got a clue what to do with.  So until we do she snoozes in her own space.

The reason we are twitching is because any mo now Boudicca’s chariot will park up and she will sweep in to put us through our paces.  I haven’t told himself but I’m secretly looking forward to hearing what she has to say and where we are going so horribly wrong.  The thing is with Tish, I didn’t get this uptight, is it an age thing I wonder?  Also Ted is a stickler for doing things correctly whereas me, all my life I’ve winged it.  That on balance is why his life has following a boring steady as you go sort of path, mine as a as fart in a colander looking for a hole to get out trajectory.  I’ve had a great deal of fun, he I’m not so sure? 

Funny how in my dotage his sensible-ness keeps me grounded while my on occasions madcap carrying-on brightens his frightfully dull demeanour.  Could that be why we are going for a Masters in all things DOG, I idly wonder?

Liver cake and...

sausages... a meat fest.

‘Eight Ludlow sausages please!’

I’m nothing if not polite.  

Dave the carpenter told us where to go to get the best sausages in Ludlow.

Eight sausages were duly weighed and I carried them home without a thought to the extra weight in my shopping bag.  My eyes popped out of my head when they emerged, the size of new born babies thighs!  Usually we have two for me, four for himself, leaving two for a sausage sandwich for hubs the following day.  I managed just one and the man two, leaving the rest to have cold with salad for tonight’s supper.

Boy were they good.

In the woods the other day we got chatting to a lady who gave Ellie a piece of liver cake which she thoroughly enjoyed.  I came home and made her some to go with the carrot, cinnamon and peanut butter biscuits I had made for her earlier.

No point having a cordon bleu chefette for a mum and not enjoying the fruits of her labour is there?

  

‘She’s like ...

• Boudicca!’
• His impression after just one phone call.
• And she was!
• As we arrived on the dot as strictly instructed, her first words were...
• ‘Fifty pounds!’
• no good evening, welcome or any of the usual pleasantries... straight in!
• We sat in a semi circle, all quivering in our boots.
• As the evening progressed my fear and trembling subsided a little.  
• She knew her stuff that was clear, by the end of the evening much against my better judgement I began to warm to her.  I must confess here I have always been drawn to the out of the ordinary folk.
• As we drove away...

‘She wasn’t that bad!’

‘No, perhaps not, if anyone can help us she can!’

• Next week we are allowed to take Ellie, then we can get an idea of just what she’s made of!

Eleven years ago...

today we were married...

on the London Eye.

Tonight we celebrate with a couple of flutes and leftover shepherds pie... we know how to live!

A lot has changed in the intervening years!  Not least we have a new member of the family...

Ellie

His boney bum...

sat on a hard chair.

His owl eyes through pebble thick glasses read the paper.

His ears are now just for decoration.

The lino at his feet long ago lost its pattern with the passage of time.

The fire in the grate burning brightly was a comfort of sorts.

Clinging to the cliff top overlooking the Atlantic ocean the croft has seen many a fierce storm. 

It was good to be back.

Bittersweet memories of my recent trip.

We drove away from my dear neighbours, me with tears in my eyes.  The night before I’d said, this will probably the last time we come to see you.

‘Don’t say that, you mustn’t think it either!’ 
the brother said who had pole position smack in front of the fire. The tears glistening in his eyes I tried not to notice.

The thing is... Our visit made me yearn to go back, to recreate my five happy but hard years living off the land.  I am now thirty five years older!  A dream, just that, to live again amongst the Highlanders, the most generous and kind hearted of folk.

A special, magical time in my life with many happy memories to call on.

 This was where I lived, just back from the sea. Ten miles to the nearest village.

So much has changed in the intervening years.

A bright idea...

 from a lovely couple in the woods today.

Everyone stops and has a chat with us, Ellie causes so many comments.  All say how beautiful she is and she is!

Conversation ebbs and flows as it does about her history and why she is so cringingly afraid.

With sun streaming through the trees the suggestion was for us to do agility classes.

A brilliant idea some might say with one huge exception... ME!

‘Not in a million years would I do that!  The reason is because wherever I see agility classes I never look at the dog all I look at is the fat old trout in Crimplene elasticated trousers not unlike me, wobbling around the course!’

They both laughed and looked me over.

You get my drift?

I’m in lurrv...

Alright, alright I did say I wouldn’t mention the dreaded sourdough word again...

however as my heading suggests I am in serious trouble of falling truly, madly, heavily in love with the alchemy of this ancient of bread.

The whole shebang of feeding, coaxing, cosseting this simple life form as got me seriously excited. Is it feeding the inner cavewoman in me I idly wonder?

This was yesterday’s attempt, boy was I proud!  If I’d pushed it out from my very innermost being I couldn’t have been more puffed up with pride.  You have to admit even with the (maybe?) salt mishap it looks a treat.

Today after a couple of slices are gone for this morning’s toast, err, we have a little problem, Oh alright a big problem!  Was it the salt content, was it the last kneading technique?  I am too much of a sourdough novice to know? It tastes blooming glorious though...

Onwards and upwards, more new arrivals will be announced in the Court Circular...
would you expect anything less?

I irritate ....

myself so much!

I am always rushing, rushing rushing.  What exactly am I rushing to?  The grave?

All my life I have been a hard worker, sheer hard physical work. On a farm, driving huge tractors, mowing, leading bales, shovelling the preverbals!    

Crofting, digging peat, throwing it out from the bottom of the bank, sacking it off the hill on my back, barrowing it along a rough track, driving it home along sheer drop into the sea roads. Unpacking and stacking it at home.  In the winter, then and only then did I get to toast my toes by the fruits of my labour!

Cheffing 15/16hour days all for 

the glory of some exalted family. 

Now when I can take it easy I can’t, I feel flaming guilty!

Is it me or do most folk of my generation feel the same?  I wish I knew, and more importantly I wish I could for once think...

Sod it!

I’m about to launch...

 into  a post of meaningless twaddle**

What gave me this idea, you might wonder?   Well, I’ll tell you, even if you didn’t wonder!

In the FT’s ‘How to Spend It’ they feature different rich/famous folk, graciously giving the hoi polloi i.e. Us a glimpse into their cosseted weekend world.  I avidly read every word, each word getting further and further up my nose.  Some might say it’s envy.  I know they’re wrong.  I have in a past life seen the other side firsthand and take it from me, they take themselves very seriously.  They pore over the newspapers to see whether they get a mention, their day completely ruined if not one jot of newsprint features their name.

The Extinction Rebellion celebs are a case in  point.  Completely and utterly forgetting that in order to attend these marches and the like, they have jumped on their private jets.

They have along the way without a second thought accepted freebies from all and sundry thinking all the while it is their god given right.  

‘Just get on the phone to Land Rover will you and get us a couple of hot-off the production line Range Rovers for our shooting weekend will you, old bean’’

Blooming world’s gone mad when those who can afford it get given just about everything their grasping heart desires.

End of rant, remind me to give you a blow by blow account of my weekend here in Ludlow, your gob  will never have been more smacked! Incredulity will accompany every word you read as you get a handle on just how the other half lives.

This by the way is Giles Coren’s take, so much better put than I ever could.  I love that man.  Oh no, not another poor devil, she would clap to her matronly bosoom given half the chance. Hope you can read it, it was in yesterday’s Times 19 October.

** No, not meaningless twaddle I mean every word of it.

The proof of the...

pudding is in the eating.  However I feel proud as a new mum crowing over her first born.

Hot off the press this evening, Friday.

Just tasted it and it is delish.
All my own work, harnessing the 
wee beasties and bugs and making a very flavoursome loaf.  Just eaten the crust and it is superb and can only get better as my homegrown sourdough starter improves with age.

Promise this will be the last sourdough post.