The joys of silliness

I've mentioned before that I am lucky enough to have lovely in-laws.  My father in law and I don't see eye to eye on every issue, but often on the big topics - family, happiness, being kind and respectful to people - he comes out with something that really speaks to me. 

The last time my parents-in-law came to visit, we were walking the dogs and the conversation somehow turned on to the joys of being silly.  He said how sad it makes him when he comes across someone who feels too embarrassed to ever let themselves be silly or childish.  As he put it, life is enough of a challenge, without being afraid of what other people think.  It's important to let go.  This really struck a chord with me and got me thinking about the things I like doing that other people might think are silly - but that make me really happy.

I love flowers.  I'm not fussy, they can be wild or cultivated ones, and quite often I will stop in my tracks, even in the middle of the street, to take a photo of, or sniff, a lovely flower.  I especially love roses, bluebells and fuschias.  I love the feel of petals.  If you are walking along, and see someone's legs sticking out of a hedge, and the sound of a phone camera going off - there's a good chance it's me, taking a photo of a blossom on a branch because I think it's pretty.  I never do anything with the photos really, other than look back at them occasionally - but I really enjoy it.

I love fussing friendly dogs and cats.  No matter how tiny or how doddery, if an animal makes a fuss of me, I make a fuss of it.  And yes, if this is your pet, yes I will probably talk to it in a really silly voice.  I will definitely tell it how cute it is. And I might even get down to its height to give it a scritch on the chin or rub its belly.  I'm not so good at human interactions though - especially early doors - so don't expect great conversation!

I love bubble baths. And I take paperback books in with me, and damn the consequences!  Books, and baths, are for enjoyment.  People stare in horror at the bent spines and curled pages of some of my favourites - I just see hours of accumulated happiness.

I love making snowmen.  Wonky, badly proportioned, funny looking snowmen.  Snowmen made from three inches of snow scraped off the whole garden, with a carrot for a nose.  And I love making snow angels, and leaving hand shapes in the snow or frost on cars.  I love making the first footprints in the snow in the garden, and throwing big handfuls of it around. Basically I love snow, provided I don't have to drive in it - and I reserve the right to dive into it just like I did when I was five.

I love licking the spoon.  I think of it as the cook's prerogative.   If I'm making some nice cupcakes, or a chocolate ganache, or creamed potatoes, and I've finished dishing up, no matter who is in the kitchen with me, I reserve the right to get a good mouthful before it all goes in the dishwasher.  And Millie gets the tops off strawberries, carrots and potatoes. It's a thing.  Think of her as cook's helper.  

This is not up for debate, or subject to sensible conversations about calories or nutritional content.

I love snuggling in my pjs - especially under a soft blanket while watching films.  If family or friends pop round unexpectedly in the colder months and find me in this semi hibernated state, well, they just have to deal with it.  And yes, the pjs are covered in cartoons, or cute animals, or are very brightly coloured.  I am totally over the slinky pyjama phase of my early twenties.  Comfy and fluffy all the way. 

I love terrible jokes - including awful puns.  The kind that make you groan and roll your eyes.  I love cracker jokes at Christmas.  I am the one at the works do, resolutely wearing a silly hat (possibly upside-down), glass of wine in hand, listening to all the jokes to try to work out if there are any new ones this year.

I love watching my favourite films again - even if they are, in reality, a bit dreadful.  And if those films have songs, not only will I say the words to all the bits I know (in the case of Muppet Christmas Carol, which I have watched every Christmas since I was 8, that's just about the whole film) I will also sing all the songs.  If you can't stand that habit, well, best just put your fingers in your ears, because I just can't help myself!

I love poring over maps and imagining that one day I will go to the places on the map - and reading up on them, and even actually planning the trip, even if I never get there.  I had a whole trip to South America planned.  Even if I am never lucky enough to make it out there, I had so much fun reading up on the towns and cities I wanted to stop off at.  Maps are like the doors to adventure, standing slightly ajar. I've even been known to copy out maps and colour them in.  Oh yeah - that's another thing I love!

I love doodling and colouring in.  From plans of things I want to do to our house, to little pictures of flowers, dogs, cats, buildings and people, to colouring in the lettering on notebooks, I just love messing round with pencils and pens.  I have to keep scrap paper on hand as I am a little bit nervous I will doodle over something important otherwise.  I've had plenty of funny looks over the years - but I keep on pushing that pen around the page!
 
And lastly (for now, though I have loads of silly habits), I love making random lists.  You may have guessed this by now... But since I am great at stating the obvious, I thought I'd better mention it...

Anyway, I need to stop typing and get some rest - but I would love to hear about those things that rock your world regardless of what other people may think!

Looking forward to catching up on this week's blogs, lovely peeps

H
xxx

Losing the plot - to the weeds

Alpine strawberries!

I come from a long line of keen gardeners - despite which my knowledge is still about as scant as my time. My great grandparents on my dad's side were market gardeners and my grandparents on both sides were keen amateur gardeners - my grandad even managed to grow strawberries reliably in the far highlands of Scotland.   

Mostly homegrown veg for tea

My mum and dad have had their allotment, conveniently located behind their house, since I was about ten, but the truth is, in my teenage years, I didn't pay enough attention to the wealth of information they were sharing with me.  I didn't want to go out to the garden and weed, and I didn't know how lucky I was to be able to eat strawberries fresh from the vine on a summer day, or taste loganberry jam, or pick sharp, ripe apples from the tree.  

When I got my own place, I started to miss the space to grow things fresh.  When we moved to Bridgend, I got myself on the waiting list at the local allotments, and popped down on a weekly basis to nag them - as advised by the committee.  The land of the allotments were a gift to the people Brynna from a local estate called Ewenny way back in the middle of the nineteenth century.  By the way, if you have an interest in the Bridgend area and its history, I thoroughly recommend you check out the wonderful Hello Historia blog. 

Scrummy pumpkins - great for garlic mash

The soil at the allotments has been enriched and improved by generations of wonderful gardeners - I even inherited some lovely alpine strawberries that were hiding in the grass.  People from the local area are still enjoying all that the allotments have to offer for everything from growing veg to keeping geese and pigeons.  Despite my lack of knowledge, the soil is so fantastic that almost everything I have planted down there has grown.  Last year, although I only used about a third of the space, we got a useful amount of fruit and veg, and as my fruit bushes mature I really hope I will be able to make at least one batch of jam just from my own yield with no top up this year.

Sadly, I have found it almost impossible over the last few months to get down to my plot at all.  The light in the evenings has been very limited, as I am sure you know, weather has been awful, and due to the level of rainfall, even when it has been a sunny day I have hardly dared touch anything for fear of ruining the soil. 

Helping hands are so welcome!

I had some help from a friend back at the end of December, who very kindly spent a whole day helping me to eliminate some of the more dangerous triffids. We cleared a whole bed to plant some onions, and cleared in and around the blueberry bed.  

Since then I have been down to top up the blueberry bed with some nice acid mulch in the form of the pine needles from our Christmas tree and some used hen bedding.  But the plot was overgrown when I got it, and my battle against the weeds is a slow, ongoing battle, which often feels like a full on retreat...

Some of last year's yummy crops

Sunday was the first day I have managed to get down to the allotment to do any actual weeding and planting since the New Year.  I was inspired by the lovely Carrie at Grow Our Own to go and get stuck in at last.  What a lovely feeling to be there in the early spring sunshine, with my hands in the soil, planting food that I hope we will enjoy in months to come.  

Redcurrant cordial

At this time of year - the lean months - I try to focus on the delicious fruit and veg that we can look forward to. I am already excited to see how big my blackcurrant will grow this year - I really think it was worth removing all the baby berries two years ago to help it to thrive.  It is looking really healthy, and I am hoping for a small but decent crop this year.  Mum and dad had a glut of redcurrants last year, and I tried my hand at making cordial for the first time - I made redcurrant and summer fruits. I would simply love to make more flavours this year, as my hubby drinks squash like there's no tomorrow.


Dreaming of strawberries and fresh rocket,

H
xxx

Foraging for food....

About a third of this year's crabapples

As a kid, my sister and brothers and I spent countless hours - often with our parents - gathering what people are suddenly, and rather glamourously, terming 'wild food'. When I was a kid, if we called it anything, it was called foraging, or, if we were looking for something specific, would be called after the item in question, with 'ing' on the end.  'Mushrooming', 'blackberrying' and 'bilberrying' loomed large in my childhood as outdoor pursuits - well, this is what my siblings and I used to say, though doubtless my parents would be horrified to see what I am doing to the English language here!  

We would also pick chestnuts in season to roast on our very eco-unfriendly coal fire, and we would look for cob nuts in the woods opposite our house, but the squirrels always seemed to get the lot. I even remember crab fishing off Skarfskerry pier near John o'Groats when we went on holiday, and taking them home in a bucket of seawater for my Nana to cook for lunch the next day.  I think this must have been a rare success, as I also distinctly recall failing to catch anything on a number of occasions!

Homemade jam and jelly

I was never a fan of mushrooms, to the absolute bewilderment of my dad and sister.  Dad was so fascinated by fungi that he would keep an eye out on every country walk, and when something interesting - or edible - was due to sprout, we would all cram into the car to find likely spots.  As I didn't really get much out of eating the spoils, I learned to get the enjoyment in spotting the mushrooms and toadstools themselves.  To this day, I still surprise (or perhaps bore!) walking companions by suddenly saying 'Look at that bracket fungus!' or 'I think this is a ceps!' to which the response is usually 'where?!'  Even now, I can't help but take photos of interesting examples I come 
 across.

This passion for picking wild fruits and nuts is still with me.  Last year, with its late spring and long hot summer, followed by a moderately wet, warm autumn as the fruits were ripening was especially good for crabapples, bilberries, and in the case of varieties that fruited before the rain came in, blackberries.  I even saw wild raspberries this year for the first time - the fruits were tiny and full of seeds, but had a delicious, fragrant and less sweet taste than I am used to.

This batch of crabapple jelly had a gorgeous ruby hue

I was lucky enough to pick several pounds of crabapples - three varieties - from round the rugby field where we like to walk the dogs, although I was glad we are both tall, as someone had the lower ones before I got there! I turned these into three types of jelly; crabapple, crabapple cider and crabapple, red wine and bramble jelly.  I think I got about six or seven pounds of jelly in the end.  If you can blag some jam jars from friends or family, this delicious, slightly sharp jelly is so, so cheap to make - it is simply the cost of the water, the electric or gas to boil out the juice and sterilise the jars, and the sugar (a 5kg bag being about £3.50).  These little apples contain so much pectin that the jelly sets beautifully.  A posh jam making book will tell you to strain the juice through a muslin cloth, but I got fab results with an old cotton teatowel which had washed a bit thin over the years.

Freshly picked sloes - tiny but tasty

I also picked some sloes (a small, bitter relative of the plum which has a spiced flavour, great for making sour jellies to have with cheese) I used them to make sloe gin; even after a just a few months of steeping, this was way better than any commercial variety I have ever had.  This year wasn't ideal for sloes - the cold start to the year seemed to prevent many fruit from setting, so I only got enough for a litre of sloe gin.

I went blackberrying twice last autumn - once near where I live, and once near my parents' place.  Both due to the weather (it rained just as the local ones ripened, so many just mouldered on the vine) and the fact that folks in Bridgend seem to be much savvier blackberry pickers than in Newport, I got a much smaller haul locally.  I also feel a little disloyal saying this, but the blackberries picked in Newport also tasted better.  They are a particularly good variety - large, firm and juicy, with a wonderful flavour for eating fresh or in pies, cakes or jams.  I made most my part of the haul into jam - again, inexpensive as it only cost the price of the sugar and the pectin - around £2-3 for 8 jars of jam.  Friends and colleagues have learned that if they save their jars, they get paid in jam, so I have a massive collection in my understair cupboard!

My favourite forage this year was on a hill my family have been going to for years, overlooking the Bristol channel.  On a clear day, as this was, you can see the whole Severn estuary, with a view of Bristol sprawling into Avonmouth and the two bridges spanning the expanse of water and mudflats between England and Wales.  From a distance, with the sky soaring, these massive man-made structures give a false impression of fragility and seem strangely delicate in the vast space that surrounds them. 

Pounds and pounds of scrumptious berries!

Most of the family went, as well as Millie, and we had the biggest haul any of us could remember. This was mainly due to the conditions being perfect for ripening the berries, but perhaps partly because my brothers and I are now adults, so we pick faster - and, of course, don't eat half as we pick!!

We were picking a kind of wild blueberry which, where my parents and I are originally from, are called bilberries, but in this part of Wales are called wimberries. (They have yet another name in West Wales, I believe!)  This local variation in names is possibly why when we first moved to Wales and excitedly talked about bilberries, everyone looked at us blankly...

Bilberry plants, known as 'wires'

Our bumper haul of bilberries or wimberries was about 3 3/4 pounds - enough for my dad to make bilberry pie AND jam - which he was simply delighted about. I am still saving some of this jam, because it can be years between batches if the weather is not suitable.  

These little berries are so loved in some circles that I am told  greengrocers in Wales used to pay local kids to bring them down from the mountains in punnets during the long summer holidays.  Given how high they need to grow to really thrive, the incentive must have been good! Of course this is no longer a possibility in our world of supermarkets - so if you want them these days, you have to go and get them yourself.

I love finding these various gems in the hedgerows and byways - it makes me feel so much closer to nature and the elements - and to my parents and grandparents and their forebears who have passed on the knowledge of these simple, natural pleasures down through my family to me. 

Wishing you all the wild strawberries, garlic, blueberries, blackberries, sloes, damsons, raspberries, chestnuts, hazelnuts and crabapples you can find this year - and whatever else you like to eat besides!

H
xxx

Pets, beautiful pets.... (photo heavy blog)

Just thought I would take a minute to introduce you to our lovely indoor pets! 

The day we brought her home

My darling cat Pandora was the first of our little zoo.  She's a moggy who we have had from a tiny kitten (we think half Persian but we're not 100% sure).  I fell for a picture of Panny and drove forty miles to collect her immediately.  She was a little ball of fur with big golden green eyes and silken fur and I just fell in love.  My husband is animal obsessed and fell for her like a ton of bricks too.


The experience of buying her was a powerful lesson.  The lady who sold her was insistent that she was quite a chilled out little cat who just wasn't interested in jumping around.  When we said that we had bought her some kitten kibble, she told us not to bother in future as Pandora was 'fine on adult food' - and always tried to eat her mum's kibble out of the bowl.  

Pandora the poser...

When we got out of her darkened living room and had Pan home, we realised that one of the reasons she had no energy was that she was so hungry.  She scoffed the portion of kitten food in record time and immediately perked up. 

The second, equally worrying thing that we noticed when we had her in the light that she was absolutely crawling with fleas.  It was so bad that while my husband rushed to get some flea treatment off Emma, I got her in the bath to

Pandora's box

physically wash the worst of them off her tiny body.  I had never seen so many.  I would never buy an animal this way again; both of us were horrified that anyone who seemed so normal could keep any animal, let alone a kitten, in this condition.

Being dunked in the bath must have been a frightening experience for a tiny little kitten in a new place.  She hated being bathed (as most cats do!) and to this day she has an ongoing war with every hairdryer we bring into the house, but she was so much more comfortable with most of the fleas gone.  Once she had been treated she transformed into a bouncy, playful little kitten - she was so good at hiding, we had to put a bell on her for fear of stepping on her!

Showing off her fluffy tummy

As we've had her, her tail's got bigger and puffier and her fur has got longer and fluffier, as you will see from the photos.  

She is definitely a one and only - we have fostered one cat and adopted another (who sadly died suddenly of a pulmonary embolism just weeks after we had him). She has always been much happier as a single cat, although she gets on fine with our dogs.  One of our favourite sights is our 2 kilo cat chasing our 25 kilo dog round the house in circles.

Millie on her first walk

Our first pooch is Millie, a shar-pei we had from a local rescue kennel called Croft's.  She is chocolate brown and is lazy, loving and has a deep and abiding hatred of baths, just like Pandora...

I originally wanted to get a poodle type - and we went and walked dogs at the pound in order to get used to walking them and the level of fitness we would need, in the hope of eventually finding the right dog for us.  When we first started visiting, we weren't in a position to take home a dog because we were renting, and didn't feel it would be fair to get a dog not knowing whether we would be able to home it reliably in the future.  

Millie settling into her new home

Walking the dogs at the rescue was fun, although it could be sad too.  The first dog we fell for with a thump was called Sindy - a big, gentle silver girl who was a Neapolitan Mastiff cross.  She had to be sent away to a specialist rescue where she could be fostered in a loving home as she was starting to show signs of kennel rage.  Although we were sad to see her go, it was definitely exactly what she needed

The second was an adorable, cheeky Newfoundland girl, Fifi, who broke our hearts, but thankfully for her she found a wonderful home well before we found our little house.  

So when I saw Millie's big brown eyes, I didn't want to fall for her and have to say goodbye again.  The first time we walked her, she was just on the end of the lead the whole time and wouldn't even take a treat.  She was so shy and timid but she blossomed a little more every time we saw her - starting to woof and wag her tail as soon as she saw us walk past her cage.   

Millie sporting her muzzle

Every time we went up to walk her, I knew it would probably be the last one.  I just couldn't believe this sweet pooch would be without a family for long.  But as our house purchase dragged on and on, we still continued to walk her every week.  Finally, our house completed and we were able to visit the rescue centre and amazingly she was still waiting for us!!  

When we first got her home she was totally overwhelmed, having spent months shut in at the rescue centre, and didn't know what to do with new people or places.  She chased Pandora and we had to do weeks and weeks of training to get her to understand that Pandora was boss (now they are good friends and even rub faces when they haven't seen each other all day!)

Millie is the most loving, chilled out dog at home, but not without her problems. She is still afraid of new people, though she doesn't run away any more, and she can be dog aggressive occasionally - especially when she's under the weather.  She has to be walked with a muzzle on at all times, not only because I would not forgive myself if she harmed another dog, but also so she can be safely socialised and with luck, eventually put this behaviour behind her.

Millie with us on our honeymoon

 We've been talking for a while about getting a second dog who can help Millie to learn her manners and to get used to dogs and doggy behaviour so that she doesn't overreact to everything.  We hoped this would improve her confidence and help her to live a happier, more normal doggy life.  Also, as we both work, we wanted her to have company, as she sometimes got stressed about being alone.  But we wanted the right dog - one that is a good fit for our family - friendly, confident, non-shedding (because Millie sheds enough for two!) and able to behave well around cats.

 This is where our darling new pooch comes into the story.  

 

George looking a bit sorry the night he came home

My hubby was looking at the rescue centre's facebook page  about a month ago and noted a video of new dog, 'Sherlock.' He was a pale coloured poodle type dog, dashing about and playing with a squeaky toy.  

He persuaded me that we should go up to Crofts and walk Sherlock - just for the sake of a walk...! I don't know what it was about this video, but I insisted on taking the extra lead, 'just in case'...  After a walk with Millie to check they got on, him demonstrating a fabulous lack of interest in a cat, and then a bit of paperwork, he was ours!

When we got him home, we just weren't sure about his name.  He had been assigned it at the pound, but it didn't seem to fit, and if I am honest I didn't really fancy standing in the park yelling 'SHERLOCK' to call him back!!  So I had a scour through my bookshelf for names and finally settled on George.  He responded to this almost straight away.

George after a clip and a bath

George had been a stray, and though the rescue centre had deflead and wormed him and given him a bath - but he was still straggly, with holes in his coat where he had chewed to scratch the itch, and thick fur between his toes. First thing the day after adopting him, we took him to a brilliant groomer who spent two and a half hours bathing him, clipping his nails, trimming off his tangles, brushing his fur, cleaning his ears - the works!  He looked so much better - but was still a little thin as he wasn't fully recovered.  

George at the park

Now, after a few weeks with us, he is fully settled in.  He has had a few problems with accidents, and at first he was too excited to eat. but he is now getting the hang of living in a home again. 

He has loads of energy, is slowly building up weight, eating properly and bouncing around at the park like a lamb in springtime.  George is a live wire, always bringing his ball for us to throw, bounding around and as delighted as Millie to see us.  His beautiful curly fur is starting to grow back - including the bald patches which are now showing up as light brown spots!

Much to our surprise, Millie was fine with him, without a muzzle, in a matter of days, and after a week we started leaving them alone together, a little at a time.  They now spend their days together and friends have noted that Millie is much more confident and relaxed! 
 
 I hope you've enjoyed being introduced to my little monsters :) 

H
xxx