love those cupcakes

Interruption

We're off on our travels again. 

To Canada and Alaska this time. 

With me hobbling my way round on my sprained ankle.

Boo knows something's afoot (see what I did there?).

He's going to stay with a pet carer in Darlington.

All back early June.

A night out

Last Thursday night had us driving through the rain to the Theatre Royal in Newcastle to see Derren Brown's latest offering.  It's not the kind of performance I usually opt for but the Boy had been given tickets as a Christmas present and invited us along.

It's hard to write about in any detail as the man himself asked the audience not to give away the content when blogging or reviewing or tweeting so as not to spoil it for people who have yet to see it.  If you've watched his television shows then you'll know the kind of stuff he does - suggestion, prediction, illusion, mind reading.  It was all there, with lots of laughs, camera close-ups, plenty of "how on earth did he do that" moments, audience participation and a rather creepy prop in the second half.  Derren Brown has been described as the "consummate showman".  He is.  But he's also very likeable.

We arrived home after midnight and to top off a really enjoyable evening I managed to slip on our (not so long ago re-surfaced, treacherous when wet) drive and ended up flat on my back.  A trip to A&E a few hours later confirmed a bad ankle sprain. 

 

So here I am on the sofa, following instructions to rest, elevate and apply ice packs whilst hoping for a speedy return to mobility.

A day out

On Wednesday I met up with the Gorgeous Girlie in London.  We wanted to see the exhibition of Scott's final expedition to the South Pole at the Natural History Museum and luckily managed to buy cheap-ish rail tickets.   

Sadly no photography was allowed inside the exhibition (which I found incredibly moving - such determination and effort and human endurance).  The purpose of Scott's expedition was primarily scientific research and the various scientists in the team set out to study antarctic weather, zoology and glaciology.  But Scott also aimed for a small group to reach the South Pole and be the first people to do so.  On 17 January 1912, five members of the team reached the Pole, only to find that Amundsen's Norwegian group had beaten them to it. All five perished during the return journey. 

There are lots of original items and personal artifacts on display and if you do visit the exhibition, which I highly recommend, make sure you take plenty of tissues.

Whilst I waited for my girl to arrive I had a mooch around the V&A which I don't think I've visited previously.  Too early for this, I would have visited the British Design exhibition there (they have one of my Trimphones) if I'd had more time but I didn't fancy paying and then rushing round the exhibits.

We also treated ourselves to afternoon tea at the Lanesborough on Hyde Park Corner.  It started with a reviving glass of champagne, followed by strawberries and cream.  Then came the highlight for me, a shot glass filled with a tangy orange jelly, buttermilk cake and the lightest chocolate mousse all topped with a square of chocolate, raspberry and gold dusted honeycomb.  After that was a variety of little sandwiches (baby brioches filled with egg, roast vegetable wraps, beetroot in beetroot bread, buffalo mozzarella, tomato and pesto in a mixed grain bread  and cream cheese and cucumber fingers), mushroom tartlets, cakes and little pastries.  Finally we were presented with scones, served with pots of lemon curd, raspberry preserve and clotted cream, and little toasted teacakes. Copious amounts of refreshing pomegranate (me) and apple and mango (Girlie) tea were drunk throughout.  The service was impeccable and we were even given the cakes we hadn't managed to eat in a box to take home.  (The husband polished those off in seconds.)

Kings Cross station has undergone considerable improvement and the new departures concourse is rather impressive.

I always forget that London means lots of walking and by the time I alighted the train at Darlington station I was aware I was moving very strangely. (Little did I know that putting one foot in front of the other was about to become rather more challenging but more of that in the next post.)

Oh, look what came home with me.

Ding dong indeed.

 

Love story......kind of

It just sort of happened.

When I least expected it.

I fell in love.

                                                                                           (Source:  http://www.primelocation.com)

With a little cottage in an attractive village not too far away.

It's currently for sale.

I'm up for a change and can just imagine living there. 

I'm sure we could easily manage with less space.  (After a bit of serious sorting and  decluttering and furniture downsizing.)  

The name is perfect.  (If I did any less, I'd be comatose.)

Boo would thoroughly enjoy the easy access to the countryside.

The cats would soon adapt.

But the Man from Del Monte, he says no.

Ah well, as love affairs go it was short.

But sweet.

 

Filling in the gap

A three day drive through England, France and most of Spain wasn't top of my list of fun activities but with a couple of nights in pet friendly hotels and a comfortable seat  (admittedly less comfortable after 6 hours straight driving)  in the over filled car it wasn't so bad.  The Boo, I would have to say, behaved impeccably and proved himself the perfect uncomplaining travel companion. Having never been one for reading whilst travelling by road I wasn't anticipating digging into the stache of books I'd packed but once we hit the quieter (and straighter) motorways of France and Spain I just sat back (the mister did all the driving) and enjoyed a couple of novels which certainly helped pass the time.  

Our stay in Spain was puntuated by reading the remainder of the book pile plus a few extras (a couple of books deserve a post of their own), some gentle pottering (me) and odd jobbing around the house (him, though the services of Boris  had to be secured to tidy up our palm tree which is now taller than the house), a lot of eating (including the obligatory churros y chocolate and now I really do need to lose some weight), a little shopping (we came across a shop selling hand carved Pinochios of various sizes) and a fair bit of quaffing of the red stuff. 

Elaborate Semana Santa processions were in evidence over Easter, culminating locally in the Burial of the Sardine (yes, I did wonder if I'd heard that right) celebration with its strange mix of decorated floats each depicting the sardine and a Greek god, scantily clad Brazilian dance groups, Sardinero torch bearers in their tall, pointy hats and the throwing of thousands of toys to the crowds lining the streets before finally setting fire to the sardine. (No pictures, unfortunately.)

In his wisdom, the mister decided to drive home via a different route (up the left hand side of the map) with an overnight stay in Millau in the Mid Pyrenees, a town with an impressive viaduct and surrounded by the most stunning scenery. It was a pity we didn't have time to explore, especially the caves where the Roquefort is matured. Maybe next time.

En route to Calais the following day, the sat nav warned of stationary traffic ahead and advised a detour which we decided to take. Progress from then on was incredibly slow as we stopped/started through endless sets of traffic lights, hopeful of re-joining the motorway at some point. 

Him:  I wasn't expecting to be diverted through towns.

Me:   Which seem to be getting bigger and busier.

Him:  I have no idea where we are.

Me:   Well, this road's called Avenue Victor Hugo. 

Him:  There's the Arc de Triomphe.

So it was.

Dead ahead.

Ever tried driving around Paris on a busy, rainy afternoon?

Thought not.

 

TTFN

 

We're off on our hols shortly.   

To the little house in Spain.

With the Boo. (The Boy is joining us later.)

For a month.

By car.

That's three firsts.

No internet access whilst we're away so it will be very quiet here.

Back in May.

Hasta la vista.

 

Millionaire lifestyle

Not really. 

In fact, far from it.

Though we do have the shortbread (recipe from Mary Berry's Baking Bible).

With a triple chocolate topping.

And we also have staff to serve the pre dinner nibbles.

 

 

Easy Sunday

Breakfast pancakes.

 

Flowery gifts.

A delicious late lunch with perfectly chilled Prosecco, courtesy of the kitchen pixies who also washed up and tidied the kitchen afterwards.

Lounging with the papers, the latest novel and a box of chocolate gingers.

As my dad used to say, peel me another grape.

The scarf of Olympic proportions. A whodunnit.

We don't often walk on the pier when we're at the beach (for a start, it used to be so much longer with a bandstand at the end) but it was the main reason for today's visit.   We'd heard (thanks for the little hint in your last comment, Jill, we're a bit slow on the uptake here) that guerilla knitters had struck - attaching a 50yards long knitted scarf, depicting a variety of Olympic sports, to the pier railings.

My favourite bit of the scarf:  the (not so) synchronised swimming.

If you fancy having a go at knitting your own Olympian, you might find this book useful.

 

Miscellany

• New arrivals, spotted earlier today in a field close to home.

 

• Cheese and fruit scones, baked yesterday and tested whilst still warm.

• Camellia, planted in the garden late last year and covered in buds.

• New novel, purchased in a real book shop (Waterstones, the only one left in town).

• Boo, catching up on the latest news from Crufts.