Bob amongst the Aardvarks
Yesterday Jalopy and I were tootling down to Saffron Walden when I spotted a friend walking her dog. The family used to live next door, moved away about six years ago and we gradually lost touch. Alice is now married and expecting her first baby in three weeks time. When I first met her she was 14. Brilliant with horses and highly intelligent. Our households were close, often eating together and playing games. Not Hunt the Thimble or Monopoly. We played Bob amongst the Aardvarks. Initially we played charades. The game where one person chooses...
read moreMrs Boss jumps: the Svengali Bantam
Mrs Boss is the Bantam heroine of the Farming Friends – Cottage Smallholder Interblog Guinea Fowl Breeding Event. She has been broody more often than not throughout her four summers. As a result, she spends weeks either in the anti broody coop or being bullied by the other hens in our flock. Sara at Farming Friends took pity on this diminutive feather footed hen and sent six guinea fowl eggs to us in the post for Mrs B to hatch out. Within days Mrs boss was living in her own castle within the main chicken run. Suddenly she had privacy,...
read moreDecorating
Sometimes I realise that I am one of the luckiest people in our part of England (East Anglia). I get to meet loads of people, rich, poor and in between. Every one of them is fascinating. Even the bad ones (and there have only been two baddie households in five years). Usually I make what Danny calls “a visitation”. Although I have pointed out that visitations are only carried out by angels and unearthly characters in novels, he sticks to his guns. Jalopy and I purr up to the client’s house where I assess the task. There is an...
read moreThe Barrowbecue Barbecue
One hot summer, years ago, Danny had a yearning for a barbecue. I knew that I had one knocking about in the barn. I unearthed it – an old Hitachi. The model that had two wooden legs and slots at different levels to hold the grill. The legs had rotted away but I found a few bricks and stationed the barbecue in the wheel barrow. We improvised the grill with a large wire mesh fire guard that covered the top of the wheel barrow. I even found a bag of charcoal. Danny fired up the monster and grilled sardines stuffed with lemon soaked bread...
read moreHow I learnt to cook (part two) and two baked egg recipes (hidden in the text)
This is the second half of my entry for the Waitrose cookery writer’s competition. You can read the first half here. I didn’t win but had loads of fun writing the entry and spent many happy hours dreaming about winning. All events are true only the names have been changed. One glorious night I cooked a perfect soufflé. Smart Wife tasted it gingerly. “Why this is really good.” She observed me over the horn rims. “Have you made soufflé before?” “Never.” Honest at last. “Finally we can...
read moreHow I learned to cook (part one)
The three lines in the small ad read, “Small Chelsea flat in return for light domestic duties and care of elderly Peke.” I grabbed the telephone and within 30 minutes was ringing the doorbell. The flat was pretty. The Pekingese was called Fanny and over a formal cup of tea, the domestic duties were explained. They wanted a cook. My heart sank. “You can cook?” The smart lady in her sixties observed me over expensive horn rimmed spectacles. “Of course,” meeting the gimlet eye. I was 22 but had never cooked...
read moreGuest Spot: Downsizing, bees and battling with molluscs. By Jane Greppi
My friend Jane and her family moved from London to the coast a few years ago as they didn’t want their children to grow up in the city. They are now is planning to make the leap to life in a country cottage. She kindly agreed to let me publish extracts of her sparky email as tonight’s post. Guest Spot: Downsizing, bees and and battling with molluscs. By Jane Greppi We are rushing round like mad things at the moment as we have just – gulp – put our house on the market in the hope of buying our very own – yes,...
read moreDigger
I have spent the last four days with a large friendly black dog. Digger minds the house when his owners are out earning the cash for his private medical care and top of the range food. The last comment is an assumption. They love him so I’m sure that’s it is true. And he adores them. Ten minutes before they are about to return he gets up and yawns. Sniffs my hair and ranges over to the French windows. This is a handy signal as I know I have to shut Digger in the house so that they can open the five bar gate and drive in. The first...
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