love those cupcakes

"When the red, red, robin comes bob, bob, bobbing along"***

The Husband took this photograph of our favourite garden visitor enjoying a snack this morning.

We also noticed some damage in the garden caused by the weight of the snow.  Spot the gap near the pond where a mature vibernum used to be (and which is now laid forlornly on the table). The same happened last winter when we lost a well established and rather gorgeous ceanothus.

As for the Christmas cake, I took the advice offered and went ahead without currants.  It's baking right now.

***This song, which I vaguely remember Doris Day singing, will be forever associated with early days at dancing class.  It's the ideal tempo for mastering basic tap steps (hop shuffle down, hop shuffle down, kick out, bang bang, kick out, bang bang) but it was also one of the few tunes my first dance teacher, Miss Hardy, could bash out on the old studio piano.  Without the sheet music.  And always with a cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth.  Happy days.

 

Still falling

"The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?" 

                             J.B. Priestley

These are photographs taken from inside the car earlier today, en route to visit my 94 year old father in law who lives a few miles away.

There was some sun first thing this morning but it's been snowing on and off throughout the day, with more to come according to the weather forecast.

Regarding the plan to make the Christmas cake, as I'd forgotten to buy currants we called in several shops on the way home.  Seems everyone round here is making cakes this snowbound weekend as there wasn't one bag left on the shelves. 

That time of year

I've managed to catch my first cold of the season and have been sniffling and coughing and barking like a good 'un for the last week.  My voice went completely one day last week.  "Not long enough" was the expressed view of Someone here. Now I'm at the "alternating between deep and croaky and high pitched squeaking" stage.  Very attractive.

 It's that time of year when the old debit card starts to get a bit of a hammering as I gear myself up to work through Santa's list.  (We usually get to the frenzied point where it could enter its own PIN). This year, though, it seems that someone else has been helping me out.  I was contacted by Amazon to alert me to a spot of Unauthorised Activity on my account (I've no idea how they picked up on it) to the tune of 500 quid or so.  Person or persons unknown had ordered a Sony notebook. (White?  I'd never order a white anything.  Maybe that's how they picked up on the Unauthorised Activity).  This, they said, was now on its way to me as the perpetrators hadn't managed to change the delivery address and they'd paid, or rather I'd paid, for express delivery.  To cut a long story short (sorting this has gone on for days and you can imagine what I must sound like over the phone, croaking deeply one minute, squeaking the next),  Amazon now have their notebook.  They also still have my money but I'm sure (ish) that that will make its way back into my account very soon.

We live in the part of the county that received the first snowfall of the season yesterday and this is what the garden looks like at the moment. You can see from the table and the little white caps on the pots how much fell initially and it's snowing quite heavily as I type this.

I love snow.  I don't love sitting in my car in stationary traffic for 2 hours which is what I had to do on the way into work yesterday morning. (I live a distance of about 7 miles and it took me two and a half hours in total, even though I'd set off an hour earlier than usual).  Amazingly, whilst I was sitting there, I saw a young lad of about 18 or so walking through the snow towards the bus stop, wearing a short sleeved shirt.  Obviously, he was also wearing trousers and shoes but no coat or even a sweater.  Even the slightly older Boy here has only just (as in two days ago) bought a coat, refusing point blank to even consider wearing one previously.  What's that all about?

 This cold snap makes deciding what to have for meals very easy.  We've been enjoying bean casserole with herby dumplings, soups and this lentil and vegetable curry this week.

I haven't made our Christmas cake yet but plan to remedy that this weekend.  I'll be using an old Good Housekeeping recipe my dad always used (and his cakes really were the best).  Only problem is, the page in the cookbook with the recipe also has little notes made by him over the years (ingredient lists with ticks, times to take the cake out of the oven)  and I know that seeing his handwriting will set me off blubbing.  Having stocked up on boxes of tissues due to this damned cold, that shouldn't be too much of a problem.

"Now let's hear from our correspondent in Rome"

Stuck in traffic on the way into work the other morning, I was only half listening to the Today programme on Radio 4. 

Until the item on the Italian prime minister's controversial efforts to replace a missing body part on a marble statue of Mars at his residence.

Reported by a BBC journalist in Rome.

One David Willey.

I know, I know.  

I can be so very juvenile.

This and that

The Gorgeous Girlie was home at the weekend and on Saturday we decided to visit the Living North Christmas Fair up the road in Co. Durham.  I thought the entrance fees (£21 for three adults) were a bit steep for what was essentially a shuffle round a crowded and overheated marquee.  Admittedly, there was a whole range of stuff for sale (a pillow that's also a pet, anyone?) though the most tempting goodies were way too expensive for what they were so we came away with nothing bar the freebie carrier bag. So, no ticks on the shopping list yet.

That afternoon ended with another taste of Christmas - a Starbuck's gingerbread latte.  I missed out on these last year, being temporarily housebound, but they're as delicious as I remembered and a sure sign that the festive season is just around the corner. (Seriously, I could become addicted to these).

Sunday night was spent in Newcastle in the company of Peter Kay, courtesy of a couple  of tickets we were given as Christmas presents last year. He was a good turn, as we say in these parts, and there was a spectacular music finale which had everyone on their feet, us included. (Photography wasn't allowed, so no pictures from the event).

On a completely different note, after reading about the benefits of spelt, I had a go at baking a batch of spelt bread rolls. The recipe I used involved no kneading and leaving the mixture in the fridge overnight. (According to The Telegraph's Rose Prince, "spelt, an ancient wheat grain, reacts quickly to yeast and bread can be made without kneading or proving"). The rolls didn't rise as much as bread made from usual flour but once baked they looked, well, like rolls and had a nice crust.  Unfortunately, it was impossible to remove them from the baking trays so no prizes for guessing where they ended up (after a soaking in the kitchen sink).   Undeterred, I had another go, a loaf this time, using a different recipe and the "fast" option in the bread machine. This produced a much better result, one we could actually eat, and which received a thumbs up  from the tasters here.

Driving back from work yesterday, and with camera to hand, I just had to pull over in the lane near home to snap a local landmark, looking glorious in the afternoon sun. 

Sometimes it's hard to believe I live in the town that almost always tops the "worst place for...." lists.

Remembering

Enjoying the new month

Finding a little spot of sunshine in the garden.

Browsing new magazines.

Making soup.

Lighting pumpkin spice candles.

Stocking up at the charity shop.

Working from home (with a new laptop).

Buying new polo necks (oh, how I've missed you!) from here.

Ah, November.  You are so welcome.