love those cupcakes

Staying local in verbs

Spending an evening in the newly renovated town hall in the company of my favourite local band and the Northern Orchestra.  Typically, I left my camera at home so the picture is courtesy of someone else's.

Source

Listening to author and local lass Sarah Dunnakey talk about her book and the writing process.  She's also a question setter for programmes including Mastermind, Pointless, University Challenge and Eggheads so, of course, a literary quiz followed.  I didn't win.  I wasn't even close (in my defence, the winners worked as a team).  Shame, really, as the prize was a collection of books and a stack of chocolate, both of which I can always find room for.  

Making a first visit (no excuse as they've been living there since the late 1970s) to the town's dinosaurs at Teesaurus Park.  This was once a heavily industrialised area and the park, established in an industrial estate and on what had been a slag heap, is a surprising oasis of nature and calm.  Like so much of the green space here, the council made moves to sell the land a couple of years ago but, following an unexpected change of heart, these dinosaurs were saved from extinction.  

Eating the worst vegan afternoon tea.  Imagine dry as a bone sandwiches (no butter substitute, just lettuce leaves and slices of tomato atop tastes of sawdust gluten free bread), a dish of dairy-free ice cream, a bunch of grapes, slices of banana draped in melted chocolate, a jar of raspberry puree,  two  strawberries and a slice of way past its best frangipane tart.  Can't think why the chef needed several days notice to put such a sorry offering together.  At least my cousin and the alpacas the other side of the window appeared to be much happier with theirs.

Introducing the littlest to the Transporter (we used to be rather good at building bridges here).  Not sure what he was expecting to see but he asked repeatedly, 'Where's the bridge?' and then was sidetracked by the strawberries calling his name from an old stone planter outside the operator's cabin.  Ah, well.  Still a working bridge, ferrying cars, bikes and pedestrians from one side of the river to the other, the Transporter was out of action to the pubic the day we visited but there was a practice run and we watched as the empty gondola, suspended over the water, made its way across.  Not that the littlest was impressed.  He was too busy throwing sticks and gravel through the railings and enjoying the plops and splashes as they landed.

Remembering, with a slight feeling of nausea, the day the Boy jumped off the top.  

Bemoaning my still restricted mobility but using the time reluctantly spent indoors to work on a blanket for Boo (he's been a good boy), read from the book mountain (Lullaby and If We Were Villains are both recommended), bake and devour spicy buns and watch the latest episode of season 2 of The Handmaid's Tale.  Intense, compelling, chilling, wrenching.  It's excellent, it really is, but I'd say definitely not one for binge watching.  Blessed be the fruit loops.

Admiring the roses in the garden and reckoning they've never put on such a good show.  (Can't be as a result of anything I've done.) Some have been picked and brought into the house.  One, an Abraham Darby, I think, has continued to grow in the vase and is now the size of my head.  Well, maybe the size of a saucer.

Wondering (both sofas face windows and there's been an excess of sofa sitting lately) why I never manage to achieve streak free windows (the insides; Nathan, our window cleaner throughout the 26 years we've lived in this house,  never leaves streaky outsides).  I use water with a dash of washing up liquid and a splash of vinegar, a fake chamois/shammy and kitchen roll paper to polish.  Where am I going wrong?

 

May days

Or maybe that should have been Mayday!  Mayday!

To say cabin fever set in wouldn't be too far from the truth.  We were virtually housebound for most of the month as Boo slowly recovered, with much lifting and carrying by his people, from major surgery. 

But he's doing well, no longer has to wear the doggy babygros (actually, I quite enjoyed dressing him and navy blue is so his colour) and exercising has begun.  The problem (scans had revealed a large mass growing internally) turned out not to be cancer which was a huge relief.  The vet is still keeping a close eye on things but, fingers crossed, the scan scheduled for August will result in a most welcome signing off (Boo likes visiting the vet about as much as he likes Jeremy Paxman which is not. at. all.)

The garden took advantage of the temporary absence of four hooves constantly trampling its borders and even the tulips which were planted very late (too late, I thought at the time) have flourished.  Now that Boo is back on his feet, I'm contemplating the erection of electric fencing to protect what is currently a not so despised little plot.  I jest.  After paying the eye wateringly high vet bills, the bank account says no.

Some reading was fitted in between caring duties and a highlight was yet another Jo Nesbo novel.  This one isn't part of the Harry Hole series but a stand alone police procedural involving what you might expect from the author - Oslo, bent coppers, dodgy prison officers, drug addicts, violent dealers, dead bodies, twists, turns and much more.  Highly recommended. 

The book pile was added to in a moment of home confinement related spending. (It also included the purchase of a new coffee machine as the existing one gave up the ghost.  Over-use due to all the sofa sitting probably didn't help.)  Two novels and, unusually for me, two non fiction titles this time.

Battle has been waged and, I fear, lost with a book that's been on my Must Read list for donkey's years.  Probably since the Derek Jacobi TV series.  I'm not far into it at all, mostly because, with the similar names and the constant marrying and divorcing and re-marrying, for the life of me I can't work out who's who.  A return to the charity shop from whence it came, methinks.

With warmer May days, meals (when I can be bothered to make them) have lightened and, in place of heartier bean stews, pasta is once again featuring on the menu, with a simple topping of roasted veg, chillies, garlic and olive oil.  Quick and colourful, if nothing else.

Similarly, recent bakes have tended to use lemons rather than chocolate in a nod to the rising temperature.  These lemon chia cookies don't look particularly inviting (I may add turmeric for added colour next time) but they do taste delicious. I've made them twice and had no problem polishing off the lot.

A brief break away from barracks was arranged in order to attend a Royal Wedding.  No, not that one, the one at our (very small) local railway station.  The knitting group had been beavering away in secret to create the balcony scene we weren't actually treated to at the actual wedding, which has been receiving many visitors including non train users and even a television crew or two.  I love the corgis, the Duchess of Cambridge holding the baby and how Bride Meghan looks like she's suffering after a night on the lash.

Whilst we were in nursing mode here, the littlest jetted off to Florence with his parents for a holiday.  No prizes for guessing which one required a lift to A&E one evening in torrential rain after a fall on a stone step.  Six stitches later he was all patched up, a bit swollen and ready to tackle the next gelato.

May days were also marked by the continuing saga of the wonky foot.  X rays have confirmed severe degeneration of the bones. Cue a referral (somewhat pessimistically on the part of the GP surgery, along the lines of,  'Well, there's probably not much that can be done' ) to the musculoskeletal service.  And cue more limping. 

This ageing lark.  Sheesh.  As I keep saying these days, you think you're doing okay and then something else drops off.