When He's Sixty-Four

On awakening this morning I thought it was Monday and started wondering what needed doing. While pondering this, it dawned on me that it was Sunday and there was nothing I needed to do. It was a lovely feeling - like I'd been given an extra day of life.

So - what did I do with my extra day?

I finished reading the book that the postman delivered yesterday.

It's not the first time I've read a book in such a short time but it's been a while. It was easy, too easy. Back to the reading pile where I'm still plodding through Sam McBride's Burned and Sheri Fink's Five Days At Memorial, starting to really enjoy Edith Wharton's House of Mirth which came as an indirect recommendation from Ganching and the discovery of two copies on my bookshelves. I finished F For Ferg a few days ago, a loan from Hannah.

I'd always wanted to read Ian Cochrane but the novels were out of print for years. He's a Northern Irish writer and F For Ferg appears to be set in Cullybackey.

So what else did I do with this additional day of life?

I made Bert breakfast and played him a particular Beatles track that alluded to a special day. 

Yes indeed - I still need him and I still feed him. I even baked him a birthday cake, his favourite - Victoria Sponge with cream and raspberry jam. And guess what? We only had marmalade, so you know what I did? I found a bag of frozen raspberries in the freezer and made raspberry jam. 

Happy Birthday Bert. You're the best and you're worth it.

New World Order

So, I ended up inventing this really great cocktail and it was a total accident. Dawn sent over some delicious raspberry cake and two portions of sorbet made with her and Les' very own raspberries. The cake was delectable and I scarfed down my portion of sorbet. Bert forgot his.

You didn't eat your sorbet and it's melted.

 Ah sure, d'ye want it?

I sort of did but it was melted. So I tossed it into the gin and tonic I'd just poured. OMG! It was delicious and there I was sitting there in my own Secret, Private Sitting Room but it felt like I was in a Cocktail Bar, the sort you never want to leave.

I tried to recreate it today. First off, into the wild place where the white currants grow and where Les abandoned the raspberry canes that were offshoots from the ones that grew in Dawn's house in the days before they knew each other, before they got married, lived happily ever after etc. etc. only pausing to bake and make delicious food (Dawn) and teach Bert how to play Gypsy Jazz and me how to grow garlic and bake sourdough bread (Les). I picked white currants and battled the nettles to pick Les & Dawn raspberries which, truth be told, are far more delicious than our own ordered rows.

Marty (not Banjo, the Social Worker one) turned up and we picked the ordered canes until the rain came - discussing life and politics as we went. He wanted to do Raspberry Vodka but his wife said Jam so there you go. Later on that evening I gave most of my pick to an Electronics Engineer called Bhrian (there's a fada in there somewhere but I can't hack that at the moment), apparently his five children love raspberries nearly as much as he does.

Anyways, I prepared white currants while watching iPlayer, some police procedure drama - that over I tried to recreate my sorbet based cocktail and think I succeeded when I made a slightly sweetened raspberry cordial. Five sheets to the wind, police procedure over I watched Frankie Boyle's New World Order and found myself nodding in delighted agreement to almost everything that the panel discussed. And I'm thinking that the BBC may still be worth the licence fee. Not sure whether that was due to Frankie Boyle or my Accidental Cocktail which I might call New World Order.

Best Bits

Another day, another dinner. Seven round the table, Jazzer and I in charge of the catering. Banjo Man, Jazzer's hubby says we bounce off each other, Jazzer says she defers to me as the head cook, I say I defer to her, either way, we seem to work well together. We had roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roasties, cauliflower cheese, parrots and carsnips, Brussels sprouts, gravy and steamed jam pudding for afters. There are three/four musicians tonight but they are all too tired (or stuffed) to play.

So, Happy New Year to everyone. 2016 had its moments but it was generally a bit too divisive, too alt-right, too Trumpy-pumpy for my liking. Glad to see this new year come in.

Two pictures that summed up the wonderfulness of my past year, a couple of 2016's best bits.

Raspberries and Kisses

I was in the house chatting to Hannah and Evie and heard distant screaming. It did not sound like 'I'm in trouble' screaming, instead it sounded like 'enraged and exasperated' screaming. It was Martha.

Just in case it was 'I'm in trouble' screaming I went out, like a good granny, to investigate.

Where are you Martha?

I'm in the green field.

Most fields are green but I knew the one she meant.

There she was, standing there with a loaded ball thrower  and two expectant dogs sitting far too close and not giving her a chance to give a good throw. It must have been an exasperated scream then.

I called the dogs back and Martha gave it her best shot. The ball landed four feet from where she stood and Jess was the victor.

So, as this wasn't working out I suggested we go pick raspberries.

The girls ate their fill and I gathered some for the freezer. We spent an enjoyable half hour picking, chatting and eating then headed for the house to get the berries frozen. The quickest way from the fruit patch to the house is a step down to the yard. It's really an upturned Belfast sink (broken) propped up with a breeze block. Rough and rustic. Last year, when I had the knee injury, I found it a difficult step but this year - no problem. I was feeling pleased about that as I stepped down. Pleased for about a split second. For - as I stepped down my foot slipped and I fell hitting the small of my back on the edge of the sink. There is a moment, after a fall, when the mind processes the damage done. The most annoying thing that had happened was that my left thumb nail was bleeding. My elbows were grazed and there was a tiny cut on my right forearm. My lower back was bruised. Grandchildren and child came running. I was petted and kissed better by the little ones.

Lucky, lucky me. I fell heavily on a step at a stone wall and the worst thing to happen was a sore thumb. Mind you, as I write this, I feel my lower back a bit achey. I'm off for a soak in a hot bath with a gin and tonic and a couple of paracetamol. I think those Martha and Evie kisses are starting to wear off.