love those cupcakes

From the book pile

I started this book with high expectations.  The lead character, Ruth Galloway, is a forensic archaeologist and academic who lives in a remote cottage with her two cats.  She finds herself being drawn into the police investigation of a missing child, last seen ten years ago, when another little girl disappears. Then throw in elements of Norse legend, Druids, ancient history and a series of anonymous letters.

This was a quick and easy read (unlike those complicated plots where, annoyingly, you have to keep looking back to remind yourself who's who and what happened when) but it wasn't the edge of the seat crime thriller I was hoping for.  I guessed the villain early on so there was no surprising denouement and it was all a tad predictable (I must admit I do like a nice twist at the end).  Where the book really scored, though, was with the setting - the saltmarshes of north Norfolk - and the descriptions of the landscape and the weather.  If you like being spooked out of your skin or in depth characterisation then this probably isn't for you but give it a try if you just want an enjoyable read which doesn't tax the brain too much.

(I'm more than happy to pass my copy on so just leave a comment if you'd like it).

Show time

Yesterday was Bilsdale's 100th Show.  In comparison to many of the county shows, Bilsdale's is small but I think all the more enjoyable because of that.

The weather didn't look at all promising as I packed a picnic, far from it, but hey, sometimes you have to live a little dangerously.  The venue was a short drive from here, away from the towns and into the glorious North York Moors national park.

There were vintage vehicles.

Prize winning animals. 

One farmer's little dog was cock a hoop his owner had won the coveted rosette.

Ponies and riders.

Into the big tent for home produce and crafts.  I would have given this Garden in a Box first place.

  Entrants lining up for one of the classes in the dog show.

Over the road for the start of the hound trail.

They're off and heading for the hills.

The winner by a mile....

...and the tail end.

Fortunately, the rain held off and there was even a bag of Rhubarb and Custards from the Bygone Sweets stall for the journey home.

So far this week I've..........

• Managed to finish another book, the story of an American blogger, her blog and an aspiration to cook, in a year, all 524 recipes from Julia Child's cookbook.

Funnily enough, reading it didn't have me wanting to cook but left me wondering if there would be any demand for a novel based on the disconnected ramblings and predilection for all things cake of a middle aged, supposedly academic blogger from a whatever-the-word-is-for-the-opposite-of-salubrious town in north east England.  It's OK.  I know the answer.

• Sewn up a cute baby jacket and matching hat knitted from eye wateringly expensive cashmere and silk yarn, which I only discovered was eye wateringly expensive when I got to the checkout in Hobbycraft, the only source of knitting parafernalia round these parts.  For what I paid, the expected recipient could have been togged out for his/her entire first year.   I then did as I was told in the pattern and experienced something called "blocking" for the first time.  When I used to knit in days of yore there was no such thing as "blocking", I just pressed the garment with a hot iron over a damp tea towel like Aunty M showed me.  It never failed to produce lovely flat results immediately.  

• Thrown afore mentioned baby jacket and matching hat into the bin, swiftly followed by the knitting pattern.  The damp tea towels I'd used for blocking?  They turned the pins rusty. Then when I tried to wash the rust marks out, the red colour from the little clown buttons I'd bought in Harrogate ran into the lovely cream coloured and eye wateringly expensive cashmere and silk yarn.  If you're wondering, the rust marks stayed well and truly put.  I've resolved never to block again.  When the Mister found the pinned out jacket and hat under damp cloths on the ironing board (I couldn't think of anything else to use that would withstand all of the dampness), would you believe he asked if it was part of some sort of ritual?

• Knit myself a hat for the colder weather which, if my olfactory system (I told you I was academic) is still working, isn't that far away.  The hat is more a beret (remember this one that I loved?) but I doubt I'll wear it, partly because the 100% un-dyed virgin wool I used is .......what's the word?.........unwearable but mostly because it's somehow ended up with a pointy top.  I've tried it on and it's a definite no and I'm not aware that the pixie look is in for the autumn but correct me if I'm wrong.  So I'm well on the way to resolving never to knit again.

..............and it's only Wednesday.

Another blast from the past

Remember this?

Well, what do you think of the new addition?

I was given one of these typewriters by my parents the Christmas I was 12. 

It was love at first sight.

The typewriter is an Olivetti Lettera 22 and apparently is so iconic it's included in MOMAs permanent collection.  (I'm not sure why the design didn't include a number 1 key.  You have to use the lower case L).

That Christmas present became one of my most treasured posessions.  I'm not sure what I typed in those early days, though this is amongst the handwritten recipes in the cook book I started (inspired by Miss Benson in Domestic Science lessons) at about the same time.

 
Incidentally, I'm certain that cheeseboards never featured on the menus in my family when I was growing up and I doubt I'd ever seen (or pronounced) let alone tasted Brie and Bel Paese.

Sadly, I have no idea what happened to that original typewriter.  It certainly accompanied me when I went away to university and it definitely took up residence in our first house after we were married.  I remember laboriously typing addresses on Christmas card envelopes (trying to impress?) that first year of wedded bliss.  It also came in handy in my early days as a social worker, when case notes and reports were still being typed, to bypass the typists' towering in trays and do it myself, though I was still using the amateur's two index finger method.   

The Mister thinks it's still somewhere in our current house but I've searched and searched with no success. 

So there was no hesitation when I spotted this one for sale.

It's not a perfect specimen but it's a great blast from my past.

Unbirthday cake

It's the weekend.

Weekends should include cake.

Adult sized cake (see previous post).

This one is (own recipe) coconut lime.

Happy unbirthday to me.

The day after

I had a day's holiday yesterday.  August 17th.  My birthday.  Please don't ask which one.  Suffice to say a telegram from the Queen wouldn't have been too much of a surprise*. 

There were cards, flowers, chocolates, Mad Men DVDs and this fabulous vegetarian recipe book.

We decided to have a celebratory lunch in Harrogate, down the road (the A1, that is) in North Yorkshire.  Opting for tapas yet again, we were presented with a rather strange mix of Spanish, Italian and Greek dishes this time.

I managed to fit in a bit of shopping afterwards (Harrogate does have some lovely shops), putting some of the birthday money from Aunty M and my father in law to immediate use to buy black linen trousers, ballet flats and a striped top.  (I'm clearly aiming for that Just Stepped Off The Yacht look).

Waterstones provided a couple more novels to add to the ever increasing To Be Read pile.

I popped into this shop for something to finish a little knitting project I might tell you about another time.

Then it was home for the teeniest birthday cake ever ("Well you said not to bother with a cake") and an evening in front of the telly with a box of chocolate gingers.

Oh, come on, you know how it is after you've eaten one or two.............

* Postscript:  I'm not old enough for a telegram from HM.  I'm just so not liking the number I've reached.

Lemon Saturday

Yesterday was a mostly gloomy day here weatherwise so there was just a bit of pottering. And a pie. Lemon meringue pie. Although I love lemony puddings and cakes, I can't remember the last time I made one of these.  It was certainly something we all had to make in Domestic Science at school (finished with the obligatory bits of glace cherry and angelica, which we had to plonk on everything sweet I seem to remember) but I must have had a go since. 

I'd watched one of the Celebrity Masterchef episodes on Friday night (didn't recognise anyone apart from Christine Hamilton of all people) where each contestant had to produce a lemon meringue pie (Christine forgot to add the lemon juice) and I just fancied making one.  The recipes I looked at seemed to use far too much sugar (lemon meringue pie has to have definite tang) so I dug out my dad's old recipe book and got stuck in. 

I only had golden caster sugar in the cupboard but it didn't seem to make too much difference.

Not a good light for photographs but you get the idea.  Crisp and buttery pastry base, tart lemon layer and squidgy meringue topping, all of which seemed to go down well with the two judges here.  I can't help thinking I should have topped it off with glace cherries and angelica, though.  Might have got me a house point.

This and that

The Boy's 21st celebrations continued this weekend with the production of the birthday cake, the theme of which, I should point out, is not a reflection of any gambling problem but more a clue to the destination of the family birthday trip next month.  It's a change from the usual cupcakes (four layers of chocolate sponge with chocolate buttercream filling and a glorious ganache frosting) and, apart from the wires, all of the decorations are edible.

The garden makeover here isn't complete (if I'm honest it's hardly started) but I spotted these pelargoniums as I had a wander this morning.  I bought them as young, straggly plants from Lidl of all places but they've really flourished and the colour is so vibrant (the photograph doesn't really do them justice), they're the best I've grown.

I've somehow managed to produce these tomatoes from a Marks and Spencer seed kit I was given last Christmas.  They're growing in outdoor pots and far from ripe but at least they actually resemble tomatoes.

Bea, the youngest but largest of our two kitties, continues to be a less than expert fly catcher.  She's sporting yet another new collar.  (Both of our cats seem to lose collars on an almost weekly basis and Buzz is currently walking around naked). 

Unsurprisingly with all of the recent celebrating, my attempts to lose a few pounds have been rubbish. 

Ah well, there's always next week and so I might as well have a last slice of birthday cake.

And the winner is.......

Thanks for your summer reading recommendations which I'll be adding to my "books to be read" list.

I asked someone here to do the honours in choosing the giveaway winner and so The Otherwise Girl and other goodies go to number 6, Rattling On.  Enjoy!