love those cupcakes

'I don't know where I'm going from here, but I promise it won't be boring'.*

Resisting temptation, I didn't buy one of these yesterday. 

I'd travelled by rail from here in the north east to London for the day, to visit the David Bowie is exhibition at the V&A.

It didn't make up for never having seen him perform live (coulda, woulda, shoulda).

But it was probably the next best thing.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. 

Maybe a visual timeline of a remarkable career.

Which it is.

Yet it's so much more.

Yes, there's a big focus on Bowie's considerable creative output.

But there's also a strong sense of someone always concerned with the detail, of someone who always manages to retain control.

The exhibition, not unexpectedly, starts at the beginning, with Bowie's childhood, the defining influences (family members, music, literature, art, theatre) of those early days and the striving to just stand out. 

But then chronology goes out the window and we're taken all over the place.

So many of the exhibits are from the man himself. Clearly, decluttering hasn't featured much along the way and, fortunately for us, he's hung on to so much.

There are the iconic outfits (to fit the 26 and a half inch waist) for whichever persona.

There are the handwritten on sheets of lined notepaper song lyrics.

There are the ideas boards for album covers, for set designs, for a stage musical of 1984 (which apparently failed in getting the nod from Orwell's widow).

There are the paintings from his Berlin days and recovery from those times when cocaine was his fuel of choice.

There are the theatre and film clips (including that personal favourite, Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence).

There's the spectacular floor to roof wall of videos of some memorable performances (and the much missed Mick Ronson) surrounded by the actual costumes.

And always, courtesy of the nifty Sennheiser headsets, that unmistakeable voice and the music, such memory evoking music. 

If you do go to see the exhibition, expect to be in the company of large numbers of others (one big negative) as you experience each section and allow yourself much more than the V&A's suggested 90 minutes (it took me more than 3 hours to get round and I'm sure I didn't get to see everything).  Oh, and leave your camera at home as photography is verboten.

 

* David Bowie

Nosing around

There was an open gardens event in the market town up the road past Roseberry Topping at the weekend, to raise funds for our local hospice.  It was just £5 entry and the sun was shining so, of course, we joined in.

I love having a neb at other people's gardens and this gave us the opportunity to have a wander round 18 or so over the two days.  They were all shapes and sizes, from the tiny to the huge.  There were new gardens and long established ones, walled gardens, paved gardens, fruit and veg plots, meadows and wildflower areas, little fountains, wildlife ponds, a garden with a sheep and her two lambs and one with a lake complete with blue billed ducks and black swans (£150 each if you're interested in having your own). Some gardens had plant stalls (with very reasonable pricing) whilst others offered refreshments and at each one there was a welcoming owner gardener to put names to unrecognised plants, share top tips and offer advice. 

Returning home and surveying our own less than show stopping plot was a case of  'after the Lord Mayor's show' but we had some new plans, some new plants and some renewed motivation (which, I know, may be short-lived).   Oh yes, and after a short wait we had scones, eaten in the soon to be improved garden whilst they were still warm and topped with homemade jam and Jersey cream.

That was the weekend that was

It was a good one.  The Girlie and Boy were home for a couple of days.  Food featured a lot (buttery croissants and cherry jam, homemade pizzas, blueberry pancakes and maple syrup, peanut butter cookies, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, a vegetarian blowout at a favourite restaurant).  There was a trip into town to buy perfume and a book (shoes, too, but my size was sold out) and to browse sofas and chairs (a living room makeover is on the cards here).  We discovered a new farmers (used as an adjective so no apostrophe, right?) market at our local park where there were just a few stalls but hey, it's early days, definitely a step in the right direction and we did manage to buy chocolate (70% with caramelised marmalade for me and eaten far too quickly), duck eggs, cheese and an aquilegia plant.  The park itself (which I posted about here) was busy but there was plenty of open space. Boo, who tagged along, disgraced himself with an episode of exceptionally loud barking (seems he was objecting to having to wear his lead) and splodging (local word meaning splashing or wading, often wearing wellies) through a large and very muddy puddle.  (For more of our Smoggie dialect see here).

 

 

I love family weekends, me.

 

A bite on the side

When a perfectly chilled glass of wine (a mug of hot chocolate might be more appropriate for today's weather) needs that extra something, you could bake these.  Little cheese biscuits.  The recipe makes lots of crumbly, buttery, salty, bitesize and very cheesy nibbles.   Easy to make and even easier to make disappear.

This batch is destined for a bake and make swap at my WI group....... 

....if I can stop nibbling.

 

Little cheese biscuits

 (I'm not sure where I found this now slightly amended recipe but if it's yours, let me know and I'll credit appropriately)

100g/3.5 ozs plain flour

100g/3.5 ozs cold butter, cut into cubes

100g/3.5 ozs of finely grated cheddar and Parmesan mixed, plus a little extra finely grated Parmesan for sprinkling (or you could sprinkle with sesame or poppy seeds)

Half tsp mustard powder

Pinch of salt (don't add if using salted butter) and cayenne pepper

1 egg, beaten, for brushing

 

Place all ingredients except the egg into a food processor and pulse until the mixture clumps together.  Tip out onto a lightly floured board and knead just until the dough is smooth and well blended.  With your hands, roll into an even log shape 3 or 4 cms in diameter (you're aiming for bitesize biscuits).  Press the ends flat using a round ended knife.  Cut the log into two and wrap both in clingfilm.  Chill in the fridge for about half an hour.

Preheat the oven to 180C/160C fan assisted/gas mark 4 and line a baking tray (you may need to use two) with parchment.  Take the dough from the fridge and remove the clingfilm.  Dip a sharp knife into a mug of hot water and slice thinnish biscuits from the logs and place on the baking trays.  Brush each biscuit with beaten egg and sprinkle over a little finely grated Parmesan (or sesame or poppy seeds).  Bake for approx 10 minutes or until golden in colour.  Remove the biscuits from the trays and cool on a rack.  Once cold, store in a tin or sealable box.

 

Savouring lately

My word of the year is 'savour'.  And this weekend has been about being determined to really enjoy what's on our doorstep.   I find it all too easy to dwell on, to bleat about, what's lacking (a decent bakery, a theatre, shops which sell items costing more than a pound, good restaurants, a mainline station, an airport that actually has flights, jobs) where we live.  So I parked Moaning Minnie and set out with a smile on my face and a knapsack on my back (well, not really but you get the gist) to take the time to  appreciate:

* The last of the tulips at the back of the house, the first poppy in the front garden and a basking Buddha

* The evening walk around the neighbourhood with the always enthusiastic Boo and the unmistakeable iridescence of fluttering fairy wings (you know I'm right) in the woodland

* Fruity tea, coffee cake and frangipane tart down the road at Ormesby Hall (more about our visit here to follow)

* The fragrance of spring blossom and wild garlic

* Time spent with the friendliest of stables' cats who was minus a tail

*  *  *

Him:  Why are you taking photographs of those?  They're dandelions!                    

Her:  Sighs deeply, raises eyes heavenward and exits stage left.

An ill wind

This week we've experienced sunshine, pouring rain and heavy hail showers.  Today it's blowing a gale.  The garden took a bit of a battering overnight and this Fatsia japonica near the kitchen door was one casualty.  I'd realised a while ago that it was top heavy and had intended to transfer it to a larger pot or a border but, finding it was literally rooted to the spot, decided to leave well alone. 

So I made a batch of chunky oat and raisin (with added nutmeg, coconut and choc chips) cookies to munch on whilst I ponder its future.

Recipe from here.

 

Bilingual

I'm now fluent in Spanielese.

Translation:

Get off your backside and take me for a walk.  Pretty please?

 

No such thing as a free lunch

But there is such a thing as a free tea.  Four of us (the mister, the now rent arrears free Aunty M, a family friend and yours truly) had ours yesterday, courtesy of the Boy's Christmas present to us all. 

If you've been visiting here a while, you'll know that I'm rather partial to a proper afternoon tea, preferably one I haven't had any part in preparing or serving.   This one at Crathorne Hall was as delicious as when we last visited, from the welcoming glass of champagne to the warm fruit scones with buttery clotted cream via plates of assorted finger sandwiches, perfectly teeny tangy lemon meringue tartlets and other sweet treats.  All savoured under the watchful eye of the delightful Lady Somebodyorother.

'Under certain circumstances there are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea'. 

(Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady)

 

Something for the weekend

Plans to plough on with the list of jobs outdoors went completely out of the rain spattered window today.  Even the cats have done nothing more energetic than seeking shelter under the garden table on what I like to think of as 'the terrace' but which in reality is nothing more than a little paved area the other side of the living room french doors.  At least from that spot they get an uninterrupted view of the pigeons filling their boots on the bird feeder.

So instead there's been a spot of baking - a carrot and orange cake (made up as I went along) and a batch of the mister's favourite, cheese scones (Mary Berry's 'Very Best' minus the sugar and with the addition of a teaspoon of mustard powder and a small mountain of grated cheddar).

 Despite a flurry of online ordering, I'm still lacking a more appropriate summer wardrobe so the change in the weather is providing something of a reprieve.  And it turns out I'm a size 10, slimmer than I thought.  No wonder it looked like I'd been raiding the dressing up box.

Later today there's the weekly visit to 83 year old Aunty M.  After a phone call from her (very understanding, I'd have to say) housing provider yesterday, I need to broach a rather delicate subject with her. Let's just say that her, ahem, avant-garde approach to household expenses management has included failure to pay rent.  Over a long period.  Tricky.

Afterwards, there'll be a long walk with Boo followed by a home cooked curry and a film.  Unfortunately, I ordered this one before reading the reviews.  I never learn.

Odd-jobbing outdoors

The past week has mostly been about tackling the long list of garden jobs.  Not everything has been ticked off but borders have been cleared of weeds, shrubs have been brought under control, grass has been cut, garden furniture has been power washed and oiled, green recycling bags have been filled.  

One particular eyesore requiring attention was a little sloping border at the front of the house, adjacent to the drive.  Originally planted with a conifer and shrubs when we moved here 20 or so years ago,  it was all looking horribly overgrown so the mister was in charge of cutting the conifer back and digging out all of the existing plants before replanting with alpines (we need to buy more) interspersed with slabs of slate (we need to buy more of these, too).   

I was in charge of the sweeping brush, snacks (recipe for chocolate digestives from here)

and the camera, noting that the anemones have finally flowered

and the tulips, especially these orange ones, are continuing to provide some welcome colour at the back of the house.

Boo was in charge of gathering up the empty plant pots.

Well, why have a dog and bark yourself?