love those cupcakes

Goodbye to the old

As 2017 draws to a close, the candles are lit, the cat's fully recovered, the dog's dreading the inevitable fireworks, the bubbly has been chilling, there are snacks aplenty to nibble and there's just time to wish you all a happy and healthy New Year.

 

All over bar the shouting

Throw in mountains of presents, a relinquished Scrabble crown, a very muddy walk, a sick cat* and this** just about sums up Christmas 2017....

*Currently in cat hospital.

**A velvety celery and Stilton soup, courtesy of a Robert Carrier recipe, if you were wondering.

 

Almost here

It's almost here, that very special day of the year.

The festive jumper clad littlest and his parents have arrived, the presents are under the tree, I've cracked open the sherry and the preparations for the soon to be savoured mammoth lunch are well under way.  (Actually, those preps seem to have gone a bit too smoothly so far and may be more to do with the copious swigs of Croft Original than efficient organisation.  No doubt time will tell.)

So, there's just enough time before we settle down to a waistband stretching buffet and I fight to retain my Christmas Eve Scrabble crown to thank you all for your delightful company this year (I really do appreciate your visits and comments and that isn't the booze talking) and to wish you a very

 

Merry Christmas.

 

 

A Christmas list

Bake a Christmas cake √

Throw the Christmas cake in the bin because the oven was at the wrong temperature and there is a definite aroma of charred √

Bake another Christmas cake √

Make mince pies √

Make more mince pies because you ate the first batch √

Buy a Christmas tree √

Return to the garden centre the following day because you can't fit the tree into your ridiculously small car √

Halt Christmas preparations and enjoy a day in London √

Bribe Encourage a baking boy to make a gingerbread house √

Launch an attack on Mount Wrapping √

Re-wrap a pile of Christmas presents because they're oddly shaped and poke through the paper √

Buy lights for the very tall conifer next to the front door √

Realise you haven't bought a long enough string of lights √

Drape lights on the bare branches of the Japanese cherry instead √

Scrap that idea and return to the original plan √

Bribe Persuade a boy to do his artistic best with a short string of lights and a very tall tree √

Attend the hospital for an abdominal MRI scan √

Receive the diagnosis of umbilical hernia  √ 

Bemoan the likelihood of surgery √

Count your Christmas blessings √ 

 

Passage To India, part 2

After the whistle stop tour of Mumbai, it was time to go in search of wildlife.  After a  short-ish flight, we hit country roads for six hours and then travelled by jeep for the final stretch to reach the edge of the forest in Gujerat. 

We arrived, miraculously unscathed.  Traffic in India is unbelievable and probably best experienced as a passenger (maybe even as a driver) with eyes closed.  Roads outside of the big cities are, at best, just wide enough for two vehicles travelling in opposite directions to pass each other. 

There are lorries, cars, overfull buses, bullock driven carts, motorbikes (no-one wears a crash helmet and often families including babies ride pillion), bicycles, tricycles and the ever present cows.  Road markings (where they appear), traffic lights and the usual rules of the road are 'optional'.  Basically it's a free for all.  Road users do as they wish.  And that can mean driving head on towards oncoming traffic on single lane roads and holding your nerve, trusting that the driver rapidly closing in you from the opposite direction will lose theirs and veer out of the way at the last minute.  Oh, and drivers flash their lights and honk their horns.  Constantly. 

So, Gujerat, India's westernmost state, with protected forest areas providing a home to a variety of wildlife.  Sambhar and spotted deer, langur monkeys, jackals, more than 200 bird species, crocodiles, elusive leopards, snakes and so much more.  

A new routine was quickly established.  Days beginning before sunrise, being driven by jeep through the forest for five or six hours, returning in the afternoon and staying until dusk, heads turning in all directions, eyes scanning for any movement.

The forest is also home to the Maldharis, the tribal herdsmen and their families who live alongside the wildlife, tending their cattle, occasionally losing some to predators, earning a living from the sale of milk.

But undoubtedly the biggest draw to this part of India is the chance of spotting an Asiatic lion.  Smaller than its African relative and hunted almost to extinction, there is currently a small population of several hundred lions living in the forest, the last remaining in the wild, subjects of conservation attempts but still hugely at risk, from disease, from poachers, from tribesmen protecting domestic cattle.

With high hopes and little expectation of seeing any (this wasn't an African safari), patience was rewarded late one afternoon when we were treated to  the spectacle of a sleepy lioness and her cub, resting in the shade of the undergrowth.  

Did I cry?

Er, do lions poo in the forest?