Off we go

Normal service wil be resumed in mid-June.

Until then we will be soaking up the rays in Greece.

See Ya!!

The final countdown, a series of lists.....

Books I’m taking on holiday…..

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka
Margarita’s Olive press by Rodney Shields
The Island by Victoria Hislop

And for him outdoors……. The World According to Clarkson. Well he’s putting up with me, alone, for 17 days so I suppose he needs a bit of laddish company.


But why on earth do we need all this stuff?.......

Spare Mosquito killer
MP3 player
Tripod
Bag of heavy duty clothes pegs purchased in Rhodes 5 years ago
Travel iron
Thermal bed socks
Universal sink plug
Bottle of Tide Ygro hand-wash liquid bought home from Lefkada last year

(answers on a postcard please)


And I still can’t find…..

My black softy snuggly cardigan
A handbag bought specifically for holidays last year, used once
My original packing list


Things to be purchased en route…..

New handbag (of course)
New trainers
Gipsy skirt
New GPS system for the van, yeah, I’m serious here. WH, having given away his old one as he said ‘it was rubbish’, thinks that maybe in the airport they will be cheaper. So we have to lug it all the way to Greece? Not if I can help it.

This week, mostly

I'm reading.....

Killing Helen by Sarah Challis. Not her usual style and although set in a rural background, not really so 'grounded' in the countryside as some of her other books (eg On Dancing Hill). The cover note tells us that the author's father is a distnguised cinematographer. Why do we need to know that I wonder?
I have so far read about half and I'm not too sure if I am enjoying it or not. About an affair with a married man, the storyteller is in her late twenties, single and still has her head turned by a little forbidden excitement. Maybe at my age I'm just past all that!!

I'm listening.....

to the sound of raindrops on my windows. Devon apparently had 3 ins of rain since last Friday. Goodness knows we needed some for the gardens, but all in one go?

I'm watching.....

Misty and Nelson trying to catch moths under the streetlight out side my house. Their brother Toby from next door joins in and what takes place is like some crazy, under-choreographed ballet, the three of them charging round, then slowing down only to leap skyward as a moth is spotted. Misty's speciality is a back flip and stretching out with a right paw to swipe the unsuspecting creature from the air. Nelson looks on, then suddenly he spots one and tries too but being heavier he doesn't leap so far. Toby, much fluffier and bigger and heavier all round, tries to steal the grey's catch, a giant free for all scrap ensuing. This goes on for several hours each evening until finally about 2 am they return exhausted and thankfully sleep like babies until it's time to get up.

This week in my garden

There are lots more geraniums in flower. Now it is the turn of Geranium sylvaticum or the woodland geraniums.

First up is G sylvaticum Mayflower, one of the best of the blues.

Nearby is the white variety or G s Album, shorter but lovely in dappled shade.

Finally the best of them all, G s Baker's Pink, a lovely tall specimen for a dusky corner. It seems to light up the whole area.

If you want to see lots more geranium pictures, especially if you need to identify one, go and look at May-Britt's site, a Danish site which has over 270 wonderful geranium photgraphs. Click on the photo links then click on 'vis alle ' at the top centre to 'see all'. Wonderful.

Invest in ME

This is a brilliant website I have come across recently and urge everone to go there and read what they stand for. At last a campaigning site which doesn't go along with the established 'wisdom' (for wisdom read load of crap) that the UK goverment is pushing as cures, you know the old story of CBT and pacing.

Invest in ME is trying to get our cause put across to parliament, to ask questions as to why they can spend millions setting up ME Centres which will just basically be glorified medics toeing the party line and pushing the supposed coping techniques which are based on studies of just 8 people. Invest in ME asks why should we have to go to a centre to learn how to cope when that is what most of us have done for years. Invest in ME asks why we cannot have the money spent on proper medical research rather than persuing something which clearly doesn't work.

Invest in ME is doing something constructive for those with ME. So please can you do something constructive too, go to Invest in ME and pledge your support.

It's all Greek to me

Tonight is the Eurovision Song Contest. To the Brits this is a fairly unremarkable event but for the rest of Europe a night of essential TV watching and rooting for the home country.

Last year we watched a large TV screen especially brought in for the occasion in a beach taverna in Lefkada. Everyone arrived early to bag the best tables and the air was nosiy with voices of various Scandinavians, lots of Greeks, the odd German, a French couple and lastly a few quieter Brits, ourselves included. As each contestant appeared each nationality cheered for their own. The Eastern Europeans, the Finns and the Turkish singer were fiercely derided. Helena Paparizou of Greece got the loudest cheer of all.

The voting was nail biting, some of the diners resorted to catcalls and arguements amongst themsleves, it was deemed unfair; some countries appeared to be voting tactically for their friends, this was booed with gusto. Locals from the surrounding houses joined the throng for the latter stages when it appeared Greece itself was in the lead. Food service was suspended, always slow, it ground to a complete halt as the waiters and the cook emerged from the kitchen to study the screen. One sole barman kept the wine and beer flowing.

It was difficult to understand the Greek commentator, a much more serious individual than 'Our Tel' on BBC1 back home. Only the scoreboard was clear, Greece was almost home and dry. At the last moment a huge cheer went up, Greeks were slapping each other on the back. Helena had won. The German contingent got up and left immediately and woe betide the waiter if he didn't deal with their bill that instant. The Scandinavians, laughed and sank back into their beers. We looked on, outsiders, totally bemused.

Celebratory ouzo was passed round, I hate the stuff with a vengeance much preferring Metaxa but it seemed churlish to pass it up. Out of the darkness gun shots rang out, a form of celebration usually reserved for wedding receptions and the European Cup Final, the young men celebrated their national pride. The other side of the bay firecrackers could be seen as flashes in the sky and the crackle and the dazzle went on for several minutes. Looking up to the windows above the restaurant we saw faces of small chldren peeping out, awoken by all the fuss below.

It was a late night that night. We left at 1am, by then friends with all who remained and invited by the owner to return again for a free coffee and drinks. We left around 30 people in the taverna, a hard core of celebrants still drinking. We walked the mile to our appartment along the sandy coast road and passed several houses whose occupants, unusually, were still up and singing and drinking, even the old ladies were still sitting in the kitchen doorways. The party went on long into the night.

The contest tonight takes place in Athens, I really wish I were there. I will be in spirit.

This week in my garden

I have the first geraniums in flower. Not those horrid bright red things you put in tubs and baskets (true name zonal pelargoniums) but those delicate perennials in the cranesbill family, named on account of the shape of their seeds.

I was actually going to take pictures myself this morning but awaking to rain and gales I have been picking my flowers from the net.

Early spring brings the Geranium phaeum family out. The first one of mine to flower each year is Ger. punctatum which although related to the Ger. phaeums has some subtle differences that only the taxonomists know about. It might even be a hybrid, it certainly seems to be of a garden origin. It's spotted leaves give rise to the common name of dot leaved geranium.

Next to come is Ger phaeum lividum and I love this for it's habit of turning its petals back so it looks like a little pointed face. It's flowers are slightly larger than those of G punctatum too.

The third picture is G phaeum Samobor or the Mourning Widow, This picture does not do it justice as it's petals shine and catch the sun with lots of different colours. The purple it seems to be from a distance alters on close inspection to a multitude of cherries, plums and even pale pinks. this one too has reddish spots on it's leaves. One of my favourites and one which I can not finsd a picture of is G Phaeum Langthorne's Blue which contrasts well with the white one it lives near! This one is much bluer and darker, not a true blue but more of a damson colour.

Lastly is G phaeum alba, pure white flowers with halo shaped petals which turn to face the sun. This one is usually taller than the rest and certainly is in my garden.

Unusually I haven't bought any new ones yet this year, but watch this space, it's only because the weather has been too cold to go plant hunting.

Where will it all end?

Ever since I read Sophia's Story I can't stop thinking about her and the anguish her loved ones must have gone through and must still be going through now. Thanks meezermagic for showing it to me. I wonder how many other people have died as a result of being mistreated or ignored because they have ME?

Conventional medicine is not much help with this condition, but what makes it worse is that it seems most doctors do not even recognise the illness and certainly do not even want to try to help. Amongst my own friends I can count at least 4 ME sufferers for whom the NHS has failed. Another friend who has now sadly died of an unrelated condition, was urged by her very understanding Consultant not to allow the diagnosis of ME to be put in her notes. He told her that clinicians treating her main (possibly terminal) condition would never take her seriously if they saw the words ME.

All this depresses me greatly and I am in a place now where I wonder what on earth is going on and why do the psychiatrists always have all the (wrong) answers, the loudest voices and the greatest stranglehold over the treatment of this condition? Is it because they actually have more time to make themselves heard? Maybe the doctors that really care are just too busy fire fighting with real patients.

This week, mostly,

I'm reading.....

the weather forecast for Volos. We fly there a week on Friday and so far it looks like it will rather warmer and dryer than it is here. Hope it stays that way.

I'm watching....

the Swifts scything their way through the skies above my house. Later to arrive than the Martins and the Swallows and earlier to leave, theirs is only a fleeting visit so I have to make the most of it. Best of all is when they come screaming over the roof and fly low over the front garden catching the evening insects. First, though, it has to be warm....

I'm eating.....

asparagus. The English is now in the shops and is great just steamed and served on its own with melted butter. For those of us counting calories, stirred into a pasta with lemon, chilli, parsley and garlic it is sublime.

Touring in the Midlands

I am up in the Midlands again with the relatives. Yesterday we went here, lovely place, looks great, well laid out, etc, etc, but their new restaurant is a nightmare as they have separate counters for everything and they didn't have the perennial geranium I wanted.

Today we are going to Mamble a village in Worcestershire adjacent to Bayton where some of my ancestors came from. We will be lunching here. Our enjoyment of the food is heightened by the wonderful drive to the place and by the welcome from the two elderly dogs in the car park. Good job the cats are not joining us!

It's a busy time in summer

Misty has settled to his summer job, clearing the garden of all winged insects and spiders and maintaining it in pristine condition. Every morning he searches the patio and borders for spiders and quickly eats any he finds. The larger ones he plays with for a few minutes, then dispatches them quickly and moves on to the next. After this he does his fly patrol and and sits in the border waiting for any unfortunate fly who should happen to cross his path, these are swatted with a quick paw, and removed. If no flying beasts are in evidence he patrols the flowers and knocks the plants to make sure that there are no hidden invaders lurking.

Later he sits of the step in the sun and monitors the kitchen door lest anything should fly through there. Woe betide anything which does. These are chased remorselessly round the house until they too are dead. Any particularly large and juicy flies he stupifies, then picks them up in his mouth and throws them onto the carpet, teasing them until they finally give up the will to live.

Night-times there are moths to remove. The garden become a living snack bar. The routine goes as follows, out of the cat-flap, catch a moth, in through the cat-flap moth in mouth, eat moth on the mat behind the front door, leave the inedible wings on the mat and then go back outside for another. This will happen 20 to 30 times a night and has serious consequences for the local moth population. The larger moths are more tricky, however, and fly away leaving a mystified Misty wondering where his catch has gone.

Corny, E's cat, meanwhile, is taking his O' levels in Shrew Catching. Still less than a year old, he finds shrews are mostly more than he can manage but he does bring the odd one home for Mum. He has his sights set on A' levels though, and tries to chase the pheasants that live in E's garden. Funnily though, they run along the ground, take off then disappear into the sky. No matter how hard Corny tries, he can't manage to copy them. He always comes down to earth with a bump.

Carbohydrates and sleep

I vastly overdid it yesterday and spent part of the day cooking for a dinner party. Then there was the inevitable wine consumption, only moderate but enough, and the almost inevitable left-overs. Today I lunched on a half-portion of pasta. Almost immediately I felt drowsy and was yawning. An hour later the phone rang and I discovered I had been asleep all that time. I was still tired after the phone call and went to bed and slept for another 3 hours. Unusual even for me at the moment, I haven't felt this way for weeks.

Funnily enough yesterday I was having a conversation with a fellow sufferer and she said she always feel like that. I wondered if it was due to eating a large amount of carbohydrate for lunch. I had been reading another blog which alas I can not find again and the writer suggested that his afternoon tiredness was attributable to eating wheat and or high carbs at lunchtime.

I wonder. I will be monitoring myself. Watch this space.

In my garden this week

I have decided to make the flower photos regular postings.

Joy Creek Photo Archive (c) all rights reserved

This is Clematis macropetala which is gorgeous at this time of year, blooming on the sunnier side of the back garden. The flowers are up to 3 inches across and have beautiful sky blue outer petals surrounding a smaller yellow/green inner petals. Later the flowers give rise to fluffy seed heads, like those of Old Mans Beard to which they are related.

In the front garden I have another outwardly similar plant, Clematis Frances Rivis, an altogether much showier beast with larger flowers, but actually I prefer the shyer, nodding cousin round the back. It's more dainty and hides its' lighter centre, making you have to turn up each flower to see it more clearly unlike Frances who shows you everything she's got in the first glimpse.

Getting Rural in the City

Went to my local Farmer's Market this morning. Bought far too much and staggered back to the car no less than three times with bags of goodies. Amongst the haul was a pot of smoked trout pate with lemon and black pepper, a tub of roasted red pepper humus, huge tub of mixed olived marinated with garlic and herbs, the first Cheddar strawberries, farmhouse feta cheese, 2 large bunches of asparagus (and no, I couldn't afford English but it looked lovely), unwaxed lemons, bags of baby salad leaves and a big stick of celery.

On the baking front I had several purchases from the Common Loaf Bakery a co-operative which is actually only a couple of miles from my house, their sun dried tomatao foccacia is to die for. This morning though I homed in on the fruit bread first.

The market makes people watching great fun. There are always lots of the hip, organic types from renovated cottages and rambling farmhouses. The county ladies too, were in great abundance, uniformly dressed in navy and bottle green and sporting pie crust collars and large wicker shopping baskets. Elderly gentlemen bought cakes and pies and rummaged though ancient pockets for small change, holding up the impatient queues behind them. Toddlers straggled, dragging empty shopping bags and wholesomely snacking on organic biscuits and fresh fruit. Suddenly a loud noise from one corner and two ancient hippies with hair down to their waists and long droopy moustaches started playing guitars and singing elderly rock songs. What they lacked in finesse they made up for with enthusiasm.

It was a great atmosphere, the whole square bustled and rang with happy voices and the sound of the oohs and ahs of enthusiastic tasters. A lovely summer morning, with the loveliest of fresh food. What more could I want?

Arabian nights

Cooked a beautiful lamb Tagine last night. It was a little hot, WH had to have several sips of water with it but I loved it. This morning the house smells fragrant with the Ras el Hanout spice.

1lb diced stewing lamb
2 onions chopped
4oz dried apricots halved then soaked in hot water for a few minutes
3 teaspoons Ras el Hanout spice
1/2 pint lamb stock
4 tablespoons chopped coriander
slug of cooking oil
12 ozs diced sweet potato or butternut squash
water

Heat the oil in a pan. Sweat onions until soft but not coloured, add the lamb and the spice. Stir and fry for a couple of minutes. Add the halved dried apricots and their soaking liquid, the stock and enough water to cover. Simmer for 2 hours. Add the vegetables and coriander and simmer until the veg is tender and the sauce reduced and thick. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with couscous laced with plenty of chopped herbs or mashed potatoes and a green vegetable.

Note that Ras el Hanout varies in it's heat. 3 teaspoons makes a fairly heated dish but use only 2 teaspoons if you want it milder. Until you are sure how you like it, go easy on the spice. It can blow your head off!

Photo courtesy of world wide gourmet.

Just a little late addition here, Ras el Hanout a Morrocan spice is available from here of all places....amazon.com.

This week mostly

I'm reading.....

Eve Green by Susan Fletcher. This was a freebie in a magazine I saw recently, only after I had paid full price for my copy. It won the 2004 Whitbread First Novel award and I can see why. Two stories go side by side, the story of the main character awaiting the birth of her first child and the same person as a young girl being sent to live with elderly relatives after the death of her mother. I can relate to some of the early life stuff as it was set in Birmingham where I was brought up. The stern grandmother too, was like my own mother was in the same era and about the same age, she kept secrets too, just as my own mother did. It's a subtle tale and full of beautiful writing.

I'm listening.....

to yet another CD from Hayseed Dixie. You must be fed up of me mentioning them by now. This time it's an older one: Let There Be Rockgrass. Just be careful who you play it in front of, some of those lyrics are quite explicit! Nothing subtle about this lot.

I'm watching.....

the leaves emerging on the two old oak trees opposite the front of my house, remnants of an ancient Devon hedge. Just now they are a coppery bronze colour and will be turning greener by the day. Misty and Nelson play in these trees and shortly they will disappear from view until the leaves all fall again at the end of November.

Plaquenil report 11 weeks on

Well I have been on this now since 20th February, a total of 11 complete weeks. My hands were starting to swell and hurt again last week so I have upped the dose from the one I was on to the reccomended 2giving me 400mg. So far no change. It does make me more nauseous but other than that I'm OK except for the crushing tiredness at night but maybe that is because I am for ever overdoing it and push myself too far. I've got just over 2 weeks to get rested and sorted before the exodus to Greece.

I don't go and see the rheumy until July so that is not exactly the 4 month referral period he gave me, more like 6 months. I just hope this stuff keeps my bad shoulders and stiff hands at bay. The hand stiffness does seem to be creeping back however, and the Raynauds is worse than ever. The exceedingly cold spring has not helped this. On Saturday my left foot was going numb too, not such good news. If we could just have some warm weather I'm sure the Raynauds will go away.

Keep your fingers crossed!

My favourite tree

Something Suz said in a comment made me think of this. I just love Ginkgo trees commonly known as the maidenhair tree. At this time of the year their bright green leaves are just opening and make them look so fragile and delicate when really they are robust and a real survivor. Not for nothing are they also called the Jurassic tree, Fossil tree or the world's oldest tree.

http://www.nsl.fs.fed.us/wpsm/Ginkgo.pdf

http://www.xs4all.nl/~kwanten/

I love the shape of them. In Beer, our local seaside town there is one in the car park and I have watched it growing for about 20 years, it is now becoming a stately and handsome tree, but so delicate looking. Must go and see it again. Soon.

Wonderful scent

The smell outside my kitchen door on the patio right now is coming from this wonderful climbing plant Akebia quinata, commonly know as the chocolate vine. I wouldn't describe the smell as chocolatey however it does have a wonderful sweet, spicy, vanilla-y scent when the sun actually shines long enough to warm it up. This plant is monoecious and has separate male and female flowers on the same plant so that the little stems hang down and have two different flowers on them.

Apparently they also bear an edible fruit but as they don't self pollinate you have to have two separate plants. I have now discovered a white form called A. quinata Shirobana. That has gone straight to the top of my wish list, not only does it have the white flowers I love, it may even polinate the one I already have and provide me with some fruit. Yum, can't wait.

Male flowers of A. quinata Shirobana

Female flowers of A. quinata

Pictures courtesy of ubcbotanicalgarden.org

Stifado

Cooked a great, Greek-style meal last night. This was stifado (pronounced stiff-a-though) a lovely rich beef stew. It is really a winter dish but hey, our warm weather yesterday was not set to last long!

1 pound braising or stewing beef cut into 3cm cubes

1 pound small pickling size onions left whole

2 cloves garlic

1 400g tin of tomatoes

slug of olive oil

half teaspoon papkrika, (smoked is lovely)

half teaspoon cinnamon

1 teaspoon dried oregano

half pint beef stock

half pint red wine

water

salt and black pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a pan and brown the meat and onions. Add the spices, garlic and oregano and fry for another minute. Add the wine and bubble fiercely to remove the alcohol. Now add the canned tomatoes with the stock and bring to the boil, adding enough water to cover the meat entirely. Simmer for 2-3 hours until the meat is tender and the sauce is thick.

Serve in the Greek style with some boiled, lemony potatoes and a Greek salad or as I did with mashed potatoes, carrots and purple sprouting broccoli.

The smells wafting through the house coupled with a fairly warm day were enough to remind me of hotter climes!

Photo courtesy of falkenbjerg.dk

Toast for an absent friend

My big, beautiful ginger cat would have been 16 today and I miss him like hell. He used to wake me at about 4am each morning and demand his breakfast, he used to wake me up if the biscuit bowl was empty, he used to wake me up to tell me there was either a hedgehog or a badger outside and he used to wake me up to tell me things, like when Misty came back from being missing for a week, like when Twilight got shut in the garage, like when Ratbag got stuck in someone else's garage and when Goggins had been in a fight and became very ill. Sometimes he would just wake me because he wanted a cuddle or because he wanted me to get up. I moaned like mad all the time about this. He always knew when I was upset too. Now I wish he was still here to do it.

May 4th 1990 was hot and sunny. Ratbag, Malmesley's mother had been big enough to explode the previous day and she was lolling on the cool grass in the sun. I went to work as normal. When I came home no Ratbag greeted me, most unusual, so I spent a half-hour looking for her. A cursory check of the house revealed nothing, she wasn't anywhere round about outside either. Going back into my bedroom again I heard a deep purr, a rumbling throaty noise different to her usual one. There underneath a wicker chair, at the far back in a dark corner was Ratbag. She looked at me proudly, rolled onto her side, lifted one front leg and grinned as if to say "Look what I've got." The four kittens were all lined up at right angles to their mother all sucking fiercely. Malmesley was on the back end of the row, not sleek and streamlined like the other three but squat and square-shaped but with blonde fur twice as long as the rest.

We celebrated his birthday each year, sometimes with a special tin of cat food, sometimes with a lump of cheese and sometimes, a rare meal of fish and chips from the chip-shop so Malmesley could eat the soggy fish batter. Wherever he is now in that Cat Basket in the Sky, I expect his Birthday dinner will consist of a starter of peanut butter on toast, some pieces of fish batter and a salmon skin or two followed by a cheese course of cubes of cheddar.

I think I'll just stick to the peanut butter on toast and silently say Happy Birthday Malmesley as I take the first mouthful.

This week, mostly

I'm watching.....

the leaf buds breaking on the huge oak trees opposite my house. This tree is also alive with birds, a nuthatch being the most recent resident. In a couple of weeks the view will be gone as the bare branches are covered with leaves.

I'm reading.....

Mediterannean Food by Elizabeth David. This is the first book in this edition and I am reading it to bring some warmth and sunshine into my life in preparation for the first of this year's trips to Greece in 3 weeks time. I know it was written in 1950 and most of the ingredients are now commonplace but the writing has a timeless quality and a simplicity that makes you want to rush out into the kitchen and just cook. The simple peasant dishes she describes are unchanged by the years and the Greek Fish Plaki for example is identical to that served in tavernas all over Greece today. I can smell it now.....

I'm wearing.....

my lovely Nike tennis shoes in girly pink leather. I never thought I would wear a trainer type shoe let alone one with a designer label but they are the most comfortable walking shoes I have ever had. Just the thing for arthritic feet. The soft bouncy soles take way that feeling of walking on pebbles and it feels almost normal. Sadly they are begining to age so I will have to investigate a replacement pair. I wonder what colour they are doing this year, purple perhaps?

Another flower

Another lovely plant which is in flower in my garden this week, Fritillaria meleagris commonly known as the Snakes Head Fritillary. The markings have to be seen close-up to believed, they are just wonderful. I have lots of plain white ones too, they must love my clay soil.

Violets

A picture of my favourite violet, Viola sororia 'Freckles' which is in bloom in my garden right now. I just love this flower and it makes me smile whenever I see it.

Photo courtesy of Shiraz.me.uk