Friday Saturday Sunday Monday

Friday

We had Lulu from Leitrim staying with us for a couple of nights while her humans attended a wedding in Belfast. Friday was her last day so I took a few photographs to mark her visit. Her humans arrived earlier than expected (looking rather tired, if I may say so) and as is always the case with dog visitors she hopped into their car with nary a backward glance at the woman whose bed she had shared for two nights running. Never let it be said that I don't give visiting dogs a warm (1) welcome.

Saturday

Bert finally got around to putting up the nesting boxes that Dee Mac made for us. 

This one is ours. 

And this is the one that Hannah picked. It has an elemental and slightly malevolent look to it and that is probably why she chose it. I'm hopeful that the birds will find and use them in the spring. 

I hate to say it, but Judy, Jess and Ziggy were glad to see the back end of Princess Lulu. Ziggy was also sleeping over and he was not at all pleased at having to share Aunt Granny's bed with an entitled Jack Russell terrier. Still, he had me all to himself on Saturday night.

Sunday

Ziggy and I collected Hannah from the airport on Sunday morn. They were very pleased to see each other.

I spent the rest of the day doing chores and even managed to drag myself outside for an hour. I chopped down most of the tomatoes (they are still fruiting!) and pricked out snapdragons I grew from the seed Les gave me. I also checked the fruit on the chilli bush (another gift from Les) and wondered if I should make more chilli jam.

It's a Carolina Reaper, supposed to be the world's hottest chilli. 

Monday

The weather forecast for the rest of the week promises temperatures of up to  19°c in some parts of the UK. Here in Northern Ireland, we can expect rain and lots of it. The rest of the news all seems to be about climate change, no doubt because of the coming Cop26 conference in Glasgow.

Meanwhile, in my kitchen,  my main concern is for this evening's family meal. We are having Tagliatelle Bolognese and I'm trying out a new recipe for coconut cake. It's a Nigella and is supposed to have Malibu in the icing but dearie me no. Malibu on a Monday? My Presbyterian (2) great-great-grandfather would turn in his grave up there at the Sallagh Braes. 

Nigella has this great idea of soaking the desiccated coconut in boiling water and it has made for a soft and delicious cake. Someday that's not a Monday I will soak the coconut in Malibu.

(1) Lulu really appreciated my electric blanket.

(2) There is a rumour that Jacob Steen might have been Jewish. I have 6% Eastern European ancestry in my DNA so perhaps he was.

What Do Old People Talk About?

I have been tending the Garden that is Nelly's for sixteen years now and must be well past the halfway point. If this blog could be kept going another sixteen I'll be in my 84th year. Can't see it. What do old people talk about anyway? 

Yesterday I was looking through old posts using the search word 'knee' and found that that I have had intermittent knee pain for at least seven and a half years and that it all began with Rusty. The following from Nelly's Archive.

It was last September when Rusty first knocked me off my feet and he has went and gone and did it again. I was carrying a gigantic bucket of goodies down to their paddock and while I was looking for a sweet, clean place to dump it out, Rusty all impatience, barrelled through my legs and lifted me off my feet. Yes folks, for a split second or so I was sitting atop his broad back and he just kept barrelling on and I knew for certain I was for landing on my arse. Wish I'd followed through on that one for all I'd have got would have been a soft if muddy landing. But I thought it best to try to stay on my feet and that was my downfall. People, when trying to extol the virtues of the smaller pig, say, "They'll only grow to knee height." That is all very well but they forget to mention that the 'small' pig will likely grow to around two foot wide. I know that when Rusty dove between my legs I ended up standing on tippy-toes with my legs well extended and it was when I tried to keep my balance that I twisted my knee.

Oh! The agony. At first I couldn't even put my foot on the ground. As I stood there one-legged, crying with pain and frustration I really had no idea how I was going to make it back to the house. After a few minutes I found I could weight bear but it was no fun and I made my way slowly and uncertainly to the house. Bert was, as usual, totally unsympathetic although he did help me off with my wellies which were very filthy indeed. (May, 2013)

I spent many months limping on that twisted knee but it did get better eventually. Nelly's Archive has this to say on Christmas Eve, 2013.

It's been another busy day. Lots of friends calling round and lots of baking and cooking. I felt a bit like Nigella except her kitchen is nicer than mine and obvs she has access to better drugs. All I had was some paracetamol for my sore knee.

And regarding that sore knee - I was striding through Cully yesterday when it occurred to me that my knee hadn't troubled me for well over a week. Within moments it had started to throb. I wonder if it had been sore the whole time but I'd forgotten about it? The mind is a very curious thing. (Dec, 2013)

I don’t subscribe to conspiracy theories but when both my knees started to hurt just two days after receiving my first ever flu jab, I couldn’t help but wonder if my aching joints were caused by the jab. I’d not been doing anything unusually strenuous and had not hurt myself and now, both knees were equally sore. The aching and discomfort came and went. After a week I started taking ibuprofen during the day and paracetamol to help me sleep at night. I was careful not to overdo it. There were good days and not so good. Then it was not so good and bad. Today, after limping out to feed the chickens and put the bins out I put my left foot on the back doorstep and was unable to go any further. The pain in my leg was horrible. I managed to drag myself into the house. For hours I could not weight bear and of course I phoned my GP and had a telephone consultation. He thinks it is something called a Baker cyst which may have ruptured. I have a cream to pick up tomorrow and I'm already taking the medication he would have prescribed. (Brownie points for self-funding on that.) Appointment on Friday and I'm to rest a lot.

So, to answer my own question, this is what old people talk about. Hurtings and sorenesses. What the doctor said. And crumbling away.

I had this conversation with Matty eleven years ago when, compared to my ancient mammy, I still considered myself relatively young. The title says it all. 

Perfect Porridge

Bert said a very dirty thing while we were watching Nigella the other night. It made me laugh an awful lot but it's far too rude to repeat. Nigella was lasciviously scoffing a bread and butter pudding that she'd made with croissants, double cream and bourbon and she commented, "That was everything I'd hoped for and more," and he said, "That's what she'd say after I'd...." I cannot finish what he actually said as some of my more gently reared readers, i.e. Fresh Blade, Hails, Manuel, Beowulf and Ganching would be very shocked because what he actually said was even worse than what might first spring to mind. No doubt more worldly readers such as Ed, Mr Bolan, Cybez and Grannymar will get it immediately. Meanwhile the likes of Bliss and El Capitan will be thinking, "Who da hell's Nigella?"

Nigella's not the only one with awesome recipes and, with Hails in mind, I'm going to give you Majella's* recipe for Perfect Porridge.

Porridge for Two People

Put one cup of porridge, a handful of sunflower seeds,one cup of water and one cup of milk in a saucepan. Bring to boiling and cook for a couple of minutes whilst stirring occasionally.

Serve into two bowls. Add one spoonful of honey per bowl and slice a banana between the two bowls. You can also use another soft fruit such as peaches, strawberries or blueberries. Add milk to taste.

Steep saucepan in cold water making sure to wipe porridge off saucepan rim.

Carry one bowl to bedside of Nigella-fancying lazybones and then eat own portion.

Go to work and hope that aforementioned slugabed will wash saucepan.

So there you go - my recipe for non-exploding porridge and a tip for an easily cleaned pan.

*Majella is my middle name - Nelly Majella Moser