A Letter From Nelly

Springhill,

Cullybackey

31^st January, 2025

My Dearest Cousin,

Hoping this letter finds you and yours in good spirits. I am sorry to have left this letter so long, but life got in the way as they say. A great deal has happened since I last dropped you a line, and not all of it was good.

Were I to dwell on global occurrences I might depress us both so much that we should have to take to our beds for the remainder of the winter. Instead, I will concentrate on domestic matters.

We had quite the storm last week, quite unsafe to go out of doors with all the bits of hedges and trees blowing about. Sadly the middle bay of our polytunnel lost its covering and of course, the children’s trampoline rolled away taking the washing line and part of a small tree with it. The trampoline is wrecked but it could have been much worse. Our friend Howie lost his polytunnel, glasshouse, hen house and hens. His hens were not blown away, Foxy took them. Such opportunists, foxes.

Still, we were lucky to keep the electricity. It didn’t even flicker. Others were not so fortunate with thousands of people without power for days.

The next thing was I got another stomach bug. Remember I had one just after Christmas. Throwing up for 12 hours and off my food and feet for another 12. No fun. Folk keep telling me it’s a virus, something going around but funny it always seems to happen when I have been ‘over-indulging’ which is something I tend to do when my friend Cinta is having a sleepover. I’ve decided to eat more sensibly for a while and not to take alcohol at all. So far so good.

Speaking of eating sensibly, Bert has been told he has Type2 diabetes! Swisser could hardly believe it as he has always been slim. On Tuesday had a long day at the hospital having various tests as his blood sugar was extremely high. They were even considering starting him on insulin! Querying he might have Type1! Which would be highly unusual for a man of his years. Instead, he is on another drug and has to do a prick test before and after meals so we are both going to be eating sensibly from now on. The good news is that his blood sugar score has more than halved and the lovely nurses are pleased with him. Bert has been fortunate not to have had much to do with hospitals etc. and cannot get over how lovely everyone is. I told him it’s because he is a lovely patient.

Of course, he is a little bit sad that he can’t have cream and lashings of golden syrup on his porridge anymore. I have told him he can have it as a treat on his birthday.

But poor Cinta! When she was with us at the weekend she said she had five days off work to look forward to and was so happy about it. But that evening her dog Dora (sister to our Jess) collapsed while out on a nighttime walk and had to be carried home. They managed to get a vet’s appointment the next day but the news was very bad. The whole family are heartbroken. They brought her out to bury her here yesterday. She got a lovely spot between the hamamelis and the hebe. It’s strange to think that next January (If we are spared!) and the hamamelis is in full bloom again she will be gone 12 months. The life of a dog is not long.

Which brings Judy to mind. I cannot see her being with us a year hence. Oh! I will be glad to see this month over and done with. Too much anger and sadness and not nearly enough hope.

I shall finish now before I drive you under the bed covers. Perhaps the next time I write there will be some more cheerful news to report

Your loving, hopeful cousin,

Nelly

Dora and Jess in their younger days. Dora at the front

Hamamelis Pallida 

One From Ten Years Ago

 

Burning Books

One of my delights is reading to Martha and Evie; that pleasure is greatly increased when I enjoy the story myself. We are all loving the Winnie the Pooh stories by A.A. Milne. A few weeks ago I was given a pile of books by a friend. Most of them were Charlie and Lola books which were new to me but I knew Martha would be pleased with them. There was also a Winnie the Pooh book which was unfamiliar. Martha picked Charlie and Lola for this afternoon's reading session. It was OK. It might grow on me as I become familiar with the characters. Evie chose the new Winnie the Pooh book. As I opened it I saw that it was  a Disney book written by someone called Tammi J. Santa Croce. The children appeared to enjoy it but not me. It jarred. The prose was inelegant, the tone simplistic, the story trite. Croce had endowed Piglet with a stammer which was entirely ignored by me in the reading. The worst of it was the author's treatment of Tigger. She had him saying things like 'li'l buddy', 'where are ya?' and 'tigger-ific'. The most awful part was when he said, 'Hey, buddy boy! Whatcha doin'?' I was appalled and resolved to get rid of the dreadful book at my first opportunity. It's actually burning on the fire right now.

I don’t care what nonsense you think.

The title is from something I came across on social media. The person who wrote it was tired of listening to misinformed baloney that some folks picked up watching YouTube videos.

For me YouTube is for revisiting musicians I've not listened to in an age or to hear new to me music. It's an amazing resource. But to inform myself on history or current affairs? I don't think so. Because...

'Yeah, well, you know, that's just like, uh, your opinion, man.'

January Blues

 

First of all - a Victoria Sponge update. A recent reader will remember that Bert was making one for the visit of Martha, Evie, their folks and the Antipodean branch of the Haribo family. I illustrated that post with a picture of a Mary Berry Vic Sponge and some of the FB folk thought that was the one that Bert created. Afraid not. We did not take a picture of Bert's VS nor did we tell our guests (except Paul) that Woody had munched a chunk out of the lower layer. It must have been all the eggs and butter that attracted him. Cats do love a bit of dairy. 

As far as I know, none of our guests got cat flu. I was careful only to serve them the parts of the cake that remained uncattered.  The cake was actually delicious, much nicer than the carrot cake I made. Onwards and upwards with the Victoria Sponge, Bertram.

It was after that enjoyable evening that my mood declined. Nothing to look forward to except snow and icy weather and taking down the Christmas Tree that I had grown to love. That tree cheered me every day it was up. When I took it down on Sunday I had another mood slip.

I let the news get to me. Certain names were triggering. I won't mention them. President Carter's funeral was the only news event I tuned into and then only slightly. One glimpse of an over-made-up face and I recoiled from it.

But, enough of that. I am going to look for joy even it only lasts a second. I usually don't like snow but this time it was beautiful. Not too much of it, not that deep but certainly crisp and even. I'll draw a veil over the slippy, slidy, very scary journey I made on Tuesday when I foolishly took the back road from Galgorm to home. At one point I thought I would have to phone Bert to bring the tractor to pull me out of a hedge.

Since then I've been confined to barracks. Hannah doesn't even like me leaving the house in case I fall and break something. I might go out tomorrow.

I had a lovely chat with London Sister earlier. That's why I'm going to search out my joy. She told me so. That picture of the frosted witch hazel is joyful even if, thanks to my dodgy sinuses, I can never smell it.  I'm told it's divine.

Also, the cats good Pippin and bad Woody curled up together. It's a rare event these days. Pippin doesn't like Woody that much.

I wish Rusty had someone to cosy up to this cold night. This might be when he really feels the loss of Lily. He has lots of fresh straw, a sleeping bag tied around him and an old duvet. I hope it's enough.

Victoria Sponge

Over the past few months Bert has taken to making cakes and usually, they are very good. He started with baked cheesecakes and these were excellent. His Chocolate Guinness has been a big success on two occasions. But... he is becoming over confident, and thinks he can do no wrong. At Christmas his Sicilian Orange and Lemon cake was a flop, literally. It is a tricky one but I've managed to make it work many times. 

Now Chocolate Guinness cake may be easy but the classic Victoria Sponge is not. I remember serving up a failed VS to the children many years ago and Martha asking me,

Granny, why are your cakes always like biscuits?

We are having people over this Saturday (many of them Australian) and Bert is making a Victoria Sponge. This is Thursday. I'm all for getting ahead but I'd have thought the day before would be soon enough. Anyway I've just gone in to the kitchen to check on his progress and he seems to be making a hash of it. I kindly told him so and he assures me that all will be well. He is using cake tins that are far too deep and he has not lined them! 

I am torn between hoping his Victoria Sponge will be successful and wanting it to be a disaster so that I can say,

I told you so!

Here's what I think. He could not care less if his cake does not work out because he wants to eat it immediately, no matter what. 

Mary Berry's Victoria Sponge. Bert has a lot to live up to here. I'll keep you all posted.

Conversations

 Bert: Where's that Holy Joe calendar that was on the freezer?

(A local congregation blesses us annually with a calendar featuring scenes from the Northern part of Ireland  complete with Biblical verses, also some tracts, and a CD of their pastor's sermons.)

Nelly: It's in the recycling bin.

Bert: What? Why did you do that?

Nelly: I do it every year.

Bert: But I needed a calendar for my room.

Nelly: You have a calendar. The Fane Valley calendar that Feely gave us, the one you said that Clint would be so jealous of because of all the pictures of fine Hereford bastes.

Bert: I think it was very negative of you throwing out the Gospelly calendar.

Nelly: I do it every year and you've never complained before.

I am a bit worried that Bert might have succumbed to Late-Onset Presbyterianism. I shared my worries with Hannah. She said,

Mum, I think you need to accept that as Bert grows older he will be turning into Pearlie. Don't be telling him I said that.

I said,

But I tell him that every single day.

<><><><><>

Later on that day, I'm in Tescos. There is a stand offering reduced bedding items, duvet sets, pillow cases etc. in shades of soft green that exactly match my bedroom. I'm drawn to it. There is a throw that tempts me. But I cannot see what price it is. I go to the help desk with the item and explain my predicament. The assistant is a lady of mature years, giving off an air of being completely scundered with Christmas and the New Year. She scanned the throw and said,

You may put that back on the shelf. It's not reduced. Twenty pounds. I wouldn't give that for it!

I did as she said. And loved her for it.

It's that time of the year again.