love those cupcakes

Pancake Wednesday

When I was growing up, I wasn't a fan of sweet stuff which was a bit of a shame because we lived in a shop which sold all manner of sugary treats and chocolates.  No, I'd much rather help myself to a chunk of cheese (my dad only ever sold bright orange coloured Cheddar with the addition of White Stilton at Christmas) or a Bird's Eye frozen chicken dinner (I was rather partial to the little ball of stuffing that came with). Actually, I tell a lie as I used to chew on the occasional penny Arrow Bar, preferably the licorice one.  Or an Anglo bubbly.  To join in with all of the competitive blowing of bubbles.  But that was way back when and I've developed a very sweet tooth since.  So much so that I sometimes have pudding for a meal. Nothing else, just pudding.  Or cake.  Or a batch of fresh from the oven biscuits.  The whole batch, mind.

Today I fancied pancakes.

With blueberries.

And maple syrup.

For lunch.

And by lunch I mean somewhere between half past eleven and twenty to twelve.

I used this recipe, which can be vegan or not, though I didn't make the streusel.

If you do give them a try (they are so delicious I ate them standing up and almost didn't bother with a plate), don't do what I did and make sure you measure your ingredients at a safe distance from your laptop.  Or just print the recipe. (Anyone got any tips for removing flour from between the keys?  Or pancake batter from a camera lens which was already badly scratched?)

In other news, I learned something about myself yesterday.

Doctor:  You have a really tiny belly button.

Me:  Er........thank you?

(Apologies if that's too much information.)

 

Weekend bits

The Girlie came home for a pre brithday weekend, we stayed local and kept it simple with:

• fresh from the oven breakfast pastries (and if you haven't tried JusRol pains au chocolat which just happen to be vegan, go buy a pack)

• lunch and a breath of bitterly cold sea air at the beach

• a mooch in the charity shop

• the (predictable) purchase of a stack of new to me books (the commitment to reading from the to-be-read pile here obviously excludes charity shop buys. And, of course, books bought with Christmas money)

• a Burn's Night supper served a day early and which looked exactly like this one from a couple of years ago

• posting a card to a friend and being reminded of the 150th anniversary of the publication of a favourite story

• a Sunday morning visit to the excellent farmers market in the park and bringing home soil covered vegetables, fancy shortbread, the crustiest sourdough loaf and fruity spiced teacakes the size of my head

• a rendition of the birthday song and a celebratory cake

Even the inevitable washing up (yes, we have a dishwasher but not everything goes in it) seemed less of a chore with the unmistakable heady scent wafting from the pot of hyacinths on the kitchen windowsill.

I love simple weekends, me.

 

 

Is it just me (part 2) ?

• I have my hair cut and blow dried (with occasional highighting) every five or six weeks.  After an hour and a half or so of chopping, faffing and industrial strength straightening in the salon, I come home and immediately wash and dry it all over again. Every. single. time. There was a slight change to the process the other day as I delayed the hairwashing to take a picture (for blogging purposes only, you understand) of my considerably shortened and flattened locks and eat some much needed lunch.  'Oh. Your hair looks very short.  And very flat', remarked the very observant mister. Little does he know how much it cost to get it like that.  Nor how close he came to wearing houmous and salad.

• We went to see Gone Girl at the cinema earlier this week.  I remember in the lead up to the release of the film there was talk about a different ending to the one in the book.  I've read it but can't for the life of me recall how it ended (and I can't check because my copy was dropped off at the charity shop a while ago).  Actually, it's a wonder I remembered any of the story as these days, almost as soon as I've read the last sentence and closed a book, I can't tell you what it was about.

• No surprise, then, that I find it impossible to have more than one book on the go at the same time. I was kind of forced into trying recently when I was accidentally separated from the current read (it's written in the format of a very long letter to a one time friend with not much in the way of action) and had to start another.  Of course, when I returned to the original book, I'd forgotten who was who (Ruth? Who she?) and had to re-read parts when I picked it up again, which took ages and meant that I ended up no further forward. Talk about one page forward, three chapters back.  Sheesh.

• During the festivities, we had a discussion about eating (well, we were doing rather a lot of it).  It turns out the others here share the habit of leaving the best bit on the plate to eat last.  I do the opposite and go straight for what I consider the tastiest morsel.  I mean, what if you're too full at the end to really savour what you've been saving?  

• It seems I've never learned that you can't always assume, especially when you're not wearing your specs, that that stray peanut which you spot on the kitchen worktop and pop into your mouth really is a peanut and not a cat treat.

• You'll probably have gathered by now that the mister here isn't lavish with the compliments. We were in the middle of some meal or other a little while ago when he noticed my hands (huh, after all these years), which I'd be the first to admit are very veiny (and very unlike his).  'Ugh' he exclaimed, mid chew, 'it's like you're an alien or something'.  Actually, they're my mother's hands (if you know what I mean).  I happen to like them, veiny as they are, because they're just as I remember hers. Incidentally, I also have my dad's nose (which has been passed on to the Girlie though hers was enhanced when she was at primary school and a teacher dropped a chime bar on it during a music lesson).  I'm happy with that, too (my nose, that is, not the chime bar incident).  Regardless of what the mister says about it.

• The January sales haven't been too enticing though I did bag a set of cheap as chips bedding (not that we needed any more given the over filled state of the airing cupboard).  The design is a range of tickets.  It's probably just me but I look at some of those tickets and think bourbon biscuits.  Edited to add: Homemade bourbons, of course.

 

'The first fall of snow.......

...... is not only an event, it is a magical event' .    (J B Priestley)

Boo couldn't believe his luck when we went for our walk tonight.

The first snowfall of the year.

He got to run around in the cold white stuff.

And I got to wear my new wellies.

 

This week in verbs

First, let's get the medical stuff out of the way.  That photo shoot wasn't so bad (and thank you so much for your good wishes which really did help), in a 'it's not what I'd choose to do to while away an afternoon and these paper knickers are enormous, I hope they don't fall down' kind of way.  

But it's done.  Yes, everyone was lovely and yes, I could have watched the camera's journey on the screen in front of me but I prefer to think of my insides as an Operation game board, complete with bread basket and butterflies in stomach, and kept my eyes firmly shut.  This wasn't, erm, a deep dive (for peace of mind I sort of wish it had been) and thankfully nothing nasty was discovered lurking (though I'm not sorted yet and have a further appointment next week).  I dunno, you think you're doing okay and then something else drops off.

Of course, the accompanying mister, who passed the hour and a half I was otherwise occupied flicking his way through the biggest pile of National Geographic in the reception area, could be relied on to make me feel a whole lot better when I was ready to go home.  'Oh', he remarked rather too loudly, 'I expected you to be walking like John Wayne.' 

Charming.

And so to the rest of my week:

Choosing from the substantial book and chocolate stashes

Buying yarn and getting stuck into another blanket which is looking remarkably like every other blanket I've made

Shaking up meal times a little with a couple of new lentil based dishes and a flourish of parsley (a soup from February's Country Living for me and this one for the cheese eating non vegans)

Treating the hall to the first bunch of flowers of the year

Starting a plank challenge.  The aim is to strengthen one's core by holding the position (I do the straight arms version) for as long as possible, gradually increasing hold times over 30 days.  Yep, I'm a planker

Chopping up the Christmas cards to make gift tags.  There's nothing like being prepared 

Walking down the lane past the church, relishing the view of the local high spot and being greeted enthusiastically by a very muddy and ever hopeful of a tasty treat Bob

 

In a word

No New Year's resolutions for me.  There were none last year, either.  Instead, I followed Rachel and went down the 'guiding word' path for 2014.   I chose savour and, looking back, I think I did, mostly.

Since Brian May and Big Ben started the countdown to 2015, I've been pondering my word for this year.  I've sat with a sustaining coffee (in my new mug) and a pile of chocolate ginger puddles (so good, you should try them) and drawn up a list of possibles.  

   

To be honest, I could have chosen any one of them but I've decided to continue the theme and go with:

relish

vb (tr)

1. to take pleasure in or enjoy to the full

2. to anticipate eagerly; look forward to

n

1. pleasurable appreciation of anything; liking

 

Enjoy to the full seems a good plan, yes?  And I'll be using my new journal to focus on all of that enjoying and pleasurable appreciating.

Not that I'm particularly relishing the procedure I'm booked in to have early next week, when certain of my innards will be hosting a camera for a little look-see.  How the camera (in my head it's complete with tripod and a lens the size of a small rocket launcher) actually gets in there doesn't bear thinking about.  So I won't.  I'll just look forward to the chocolate puddles that are left in the bag as a treat to eat afterwards.