love those cupcakes

Celebrating Christmas 2022

Some highlights from a different but oh so lovely Christmas. 

There was the usual flurry of festive preparation and last minute panic buying (every. single. year.) in the days leading up to the main event. 

Finally, most of the familiar components came together, with just some adjustment to enable time with the Mister.  And, of course, to accommodate the newest and littlest member of the family. 

Traditional food, crackers, sparkly jumpers, piles of superb presents, games (one involved completing a variety of tasks using teeny tiny hands on stumps and was a big hit), chocolates, endless washing up, full bins, tight waistbands.  Perfect.

This year's gingerbread house, courtesy of the Boy and complete with lights, was inspired by the buildings in York's Shambles.  So good.

In the days following, there was a short drive to the coast for a Thai meal, a walk along the prom and a shuffle (me, it was so disorientating) along the pier in the dark.

We went to Castle Howard for the fairy tale themed 'Into the Woods' experience, my first visit since I was a little girl.  I've no idea why it's taken so long to as it's only an hour away through the glorious North Yorkshire Moors National Park.  

The displays didn't disappoint. Sleeping Beauty, Goldilocks, Hansel and Gretel, Snow White, Cinderella, they were all there.

It was too cold and wet to explore the grounds and gardens so a return is most definitely on the cards.

The dog enjoyed a daily walk round the block.

The cats barely moved.

2023 was welcomed in after a curry in a local restaurant, where it seemed most of the town had had the same idea, and whilst watching the fireworks in London on the telly.  

Despite some trepidation given the recent changes here, everything turned out well (best not mention the butterscotch sauce) and we enjoyed a splendidly festive time. Shame we didn't manage to fit in the annual game of Scrabble. Ah well, I'll just have to keep wearing the crown.

Happy New Year to you all.

 

Lately in verbs

Galloping through book number three of the year.  Exquisitely detailed descriptions of place (the marshlands of North Carolina), of nature, of clothes worn, of food prepared, meals eaten.  Set in the 50s and 60s, it's a story of abandonment and survival, difference and intolerance, rejection and loneliness.  And maybe a murder.    Not quite perfect but very readable and **** .

Finishing the littlest's stripey jumper, which should fit. Well, it will if his arms hang past his knees. 

Watching Season 1 of Anne with an E on Netflix.  Based on the book, Anne of Green Gables, the familiar storylines are there but this version is darker, presenting a much more miserable picture, mostly via flasbacks, of an orphan's life.  So, Anne's vivid imagination seems to be more a way of dealing with the abuse she has suffered prior to being taken in by the Cuthberts.  Although it's a period piece, it's modern, if that makes sense.  The Prince Edward Island setting (and the Cuthberts' house) is stunning and, so, whilst it's not what I was expecting (I love the book),  I'm sticking with it.  For now.

Wondering what on earth has happened to the hyacinths I planted.  They seemed to be doing well, but the flower spikes (blue, huzzah!) are stunted, poor wee things.  They still have that glorious hyacinth fragrance, though you have to stick your neb right in to get a whiff. 

Making marmalade. It was a messy business, not helped by one of the glass jars in the motley collection shattering whilst being filled.  But it tastes so good. Too good, maybe.

Consuming far too much sugar.  See above.

Missing the coffee machine which has been spending time in coffee machine hospital.  I tried coffee bags and a cafetiere in the meantime but it just wasn't the same.  Cue lots (the bank account confirms) of visits to cafes where sweet vegan treats have also been consumed (resistance, I find, is futile).  Costa's rocky road, Nero's raspberry croissant and a cherry and almond scone at a newish vegan eatery up the road were memorable.

Sweeping up white feathers which were scattered along the length of the drive and in piles by the dustbin and on our neighbours' front garden.  From the amount I had to dispose of, they'd once kept an albatross warm and dry.

Sending Buzz cat to Coventry.  See above.

Filling the vase with tulips, my absolute favourites.

Learning the basics of modern calligraphy.   This was a hugely enjoyable workshop, held one evening in an upstairs room in a bistro, and had nine of us getting to grips with securing the nib in its holder, loading it with just the right amount of ink to avoid blobs and positioning the hand properly to ensure a scratch-free flow across the paper.  Honestly, we were all so focused on forming the letters (thin upward, thick downward strokes), time sped by (I only remembered to eat my slice of vegan chocolate cake just before everything was cleared away).   Now for some home practice.  Without spilling the ink.

Meeting up with my girl in London, to celebrate her birthday.

Demolishing a very delicious  afternoon tea.

Lurking long after the table had been cleared after discovering the presence of a TV film crew.  I've always felt I'd make an excellent extra.  After all, I do have stage experience and yes, yes, I know I was only three at the time but it all counts.  However, I suspect this might be as close as I get to a BAFTA.

Returning home after a fab day out.  With the wrong box of afternoon tea leftovers.

 

So far, so good

Just a week into the new year but for some strange reason it feels much longer.  I've always loved January, I think because it was a big birthday month in my family, kicking off with my dad's on the 12th, shortly followed by my brother's.  But now we just have the one, my girl's, towards the end.  

Yoga and tai chi classes re-started this week and I was so ready for them, not just for the practice itself but for re-establishing a little routine into my week and reconnecting with friends.  The theme for our Wednesday yoga sessions is 'Empowerment'.  I foresee a lot of challenging poses in my near future (not that they're not usually challenging).

The first daffodils of the year appeared in the supermarket so, of course, I popped a couple of bunches into the basket, and the hyacinth bulbs (blue, with a bit of luck) I planted before Christmas appear to be faring well in one of the bedrooms.

Typepad informs me that I read 61 books in 2019, which surprises me somewhat (I know it isn't a competition but that's the most I've read in a 12 month period since starting this blog).  Some were memorable, others I couldn't begin to tell you what they were about (though that probably says more about my memory than about the books).  Christina asked about favourites from 2019 and I struggled to recall the titles I'd enjoyed most.  So I'm now trialling a simple (1-5) star rating system for each book I read this year so that the standout ones really do, well, stand out.  The current book at bedtime is White, a shortish novel set in my absolute favourite part of the world, Antarctica. Just needs a foot of snow outside to add to the reading experience.

Eating chez nous is still on the indulgent side of healthy, and there are far too many sugary snacks being consumed, but the addition of two new recipe books to the collection should help to shake up the menus. Soonish.

In the absence of mince pies and Christmas cake (we still have non vegan ones), I baked a batch of fudgy, nut laden brownies using this recipe.  I didn't dust them with icing sugar.  Well, no point in over-egging the pudding (or whatever the equivalent is in veganese).

Although sea glass is to be found on the beach just a bit further up the north east coast from here, I've never collected it.  Actually, I'd never handled it at all until I participated in a mosaic workshop last weekend.  It was highly enjoyable.   A group of seven of us got stuck into embellishing wooden coasters and picture frames with beautifully hued pieces chosen from a huge pile of sea glass (plus bits of driftwood in my case) using tubes of grout (I really shouldn't have worn black) after hearing lots of interesting stuff about the glass itself.  The end results were, oh, how shall I put it, rustic?  Primitive?  Artisan?  Rough and ready?  I'll maybe use the coaster as a plant pot stand and I think I know just the place for the frame (hint:  it's a short word, beginning with 'b' and ending with 'n').

The venue for the workshop was a lovely yarn shop in a neighbouring town and, surprise surprise, I took the opportunity to stock up on materials for a new project.  I chose a straightforward pattern to knit a sweater (and maybe the matching hat) for the littlest which just might keep the fingers too busy to dip into the treats cupboard.  And pigs might fly.

I'm continuing with writing a diary after using a five year line a day one since 2015.  My new one is a much prettier version, a Christmas gift, and, over time, I'll enjoy reading the entries from previous years on any given date.  

Something of a tradition now, I haven't made any New Year's resolutions, preferring instead to choose a guiding word for the year which, once again,  I've also expanded into a sankalpa.  After much pondering, I've decided to go with compassion.  Compassion for others, for animals, for planet earth, for myself.  

I'll give it my best shot.

 

Hallowe'en-y

When I was a child, Hallowe'en was all about carved turnips rather than pumpkins, which were only seen in books (before being transformed into glass coaches).  String handles would be attached for easy carrying and they would be lit with candles (not mine; my parents were safety conscious so I had to use a torch). 

We didn't knock on doors for sweets, either.  The aunties and some of the neighbours would give us cousins small amounts of money as we walked up and down the street with our lanterns and the church used to organise a party where there was a competition for the best turnip. (The photograph was taken in my aunt's house, just before me and my cousin were taken to one of those parties.) 

I won once, with Marley's ghost, though I didn't have a clue who Marley was.  My dad did all the veg cutting which seemed to take forever.  Then he stuck two knitting needles in the bottom of the turnip from which hung one of my brother's white shirts. Wooooo!!!!!!

Earlier today, I hacked away at the pumpkin.  It's now on the step outside the front door, attracting lots of lovely trick or treaters.  Hopefully the sweet treats don't run out.  Last Hallowe'en I had to supplement with chocolate biscuits from the tin.

This year I was determined to reduce waste and so we've had pumpkin, carrot and ginger soup with roasted chilli pumpkin seeds, followed by maple frosted pumpkin cookies. 

We're pumpkined out.

So is the cat.  

Once the knocks on the door have petered out, I'll be watching my favourite Hallowe'en film  (he's a tinker, that Michael Myers) and finishing the day with a ghost story.  

I love October 31st, me.

 

Octoberish

The tenth month of the year. 

One of my favourites.

In all honesty, I could quite happily hibernate every summer, only emerging once the diary page has been turned over to October 1st.  

Nights are now drawing in (as my dad used to say, it's getting late early), temperatures are droppping, leaves are falling, the hot drinks menu in the coffee shop has suddenly perked up and I've succumbed to the urge to dabble in the magic that is jam making. There's just a modest stash of jars on the shelf as no-one else here is a fan, but seeing them sitting there is oddly comforting.   Elderberries from the tree at the bottom of the garden have been turned into immune system boosting syrup which is proving to be deliciously colourful atop a bowl of porridge.  

October is also the month which will forever be associated with my mother's birthday.  Or, to be more accurate, birthdays. 

Until her 60s, she celebrated  on the 25th.  Then, a copy of her birth certificate was required to support her first passport application and she discovered the date her birth had been registered was the 23rd.  My dad suggested she celebrate on both days thenceforth.  So she did.  

When the (now 4 year old) littlest visited with his mama recently, we spent an afternoon in the Priory near the Boy's apartment.

Leaving the littlest defending goal and his uncle attempting to score for the Reds, I wandered the otherwise deserted grounds where the hues of late summer were vying for attention alongside the autumnal palette.

The colours of October are undeniably stunning -  the reds, yellows and oranges.   Though I'd have to say I wouldn't be seen dead wearing any of them,  nature does showcase the whole range  so very well.  It's an absolute masterclass on change.

Oh, yes, I love Octobers, me.

 

 

Lately in verbs

Life's been much of a muchness, lately, with (mostly) the usual activities punctuating the days and weeks. 

Bending, stretching and om-ing at the still continuing twice weekly (sometimes there are three) yoga sessions. I don't seem to get better at it but oh, I love it which is surely the point? 

Classes were spiced up last weekend with a yoga camp in town, comprising of lots of tasters, both of the yoga (aerial yoga?  I think not) and food variety, over two days. 

Venturing into the garden after the winter hiatus.  It's not a big plot by any means but it's a challenging one.  An odd shape with generally poor soil, it's overlooked (for over ten years we backed onto a field from which a housing estate sprang up) and a large part of it gets very little sunlight. 

Of course, with two cats and a Boo, it's regularly trampled by twelve paws of varying sizes.  But it's not completely barren out there and, if you look hard enough, there are signs of life and the odd spot of colour.  

Abstaining from book buying. I wanted to give up something meaningful for Lent and so, when the Girlie suggested not purchasing any books for the duration, I thought why not? How hard could that be?

Ooh, turns out it's a killer for someone who cannot walk past a book shop/stand/pile and who carries a notebook to jot down the titles of future reads/purchases. It has to be much harder than cutting out chocolate (I don't eat that much these days) or cake (no-one else here appreciates vegan cakes so I don't bake any) or biscuits (apart from the occasional vegan flapjack in Costa, I haven't indulged lately). 

The only other possible contender for abstention was porridge, but if I gave that up I'd very possibly expire (I eat a lot of it, at all times of the day. And night).

So books it was.

Is.  

Reading has still featured.  Of necessity, I've been dipping into the (substantial) TBR pile (one book was an accidental re-read which seems to happen rather a lot these days) and borrowing from the library.  I should do the latter more often but have a 'thing' about books which have been in many hands (I only borrow recent acquisitions).  I suppose I could wear rubber gloves whilst reading. 

Recommending, from the books read so far this year (links in the sidebar):

• Dark Pines (a small town in rural Sweden, a young journalist, a brutal murder)
• The Stranger Diaries (a chilling piece of Gothic literature seems to be being played out in real life)
• The Hunting Party (a group of old university friends meet up in the Scottish highlands.  One of them will die.  But which one?  And whodunnit?)
• Us Against You (the sequel to the equally excellent Beartown.  If you haven't already devoured these two, go binge read).

Attending a meet the author event, where Martin Edwards talked about the golden age of crime fiction and his latest novel. It's always interesting to hear how authors approach writing. 

Of course, all the afore mentioned Lenten fasting meant I was unable to add to the book stash from the stall in the corner but, fortunately, I'd bought one of his books (my first and the current book at bedtime which is proving to be very enjoyable) before the ban which was then duly signed on the night. 

Re-connecting with the knitting needles. I bought a kit from Etsy which, hopefully, will be transformed into something cuddly to include in someone's Easter parcel.  So far, so good, but I need to get a move on.

Searching for a new lunch venue.  The cafe in the town's modern art gallery, which was the perfect meeting place (the food was delicious and it was spacious enough to linger for hours) for lunch and catch ups with friends and family, was closed down suddenly (the local university currently manage the building and have 'plans'). 

I'm now on a mission to find an alternative that meets some exacting criteria.  The first on the list was a newly opened cafe in the recently renovated Town Hall.  An article in the local newspaper had promisingly likened it to Ottolenghi's.  Being a fan of Yotem and very familiar with his London eateries, I was optimistic.  The reality was disappointing.

The quest continues.

Sauntering in the Priory near the Boy's apartment before heading off for coffee and cake. I was half tempted to pick some wild garlic (it was everywhere) but couldn't decide what to do with it.   Plus, erm, dogs.

Venturing into the forest when the littlest paid a visit.  We stuck to the easy trail but intend to return soon to venture further.

 

 

 

 

Lately in verbs

Watching  (nay, binge watching) You on Netflix.  Apparently, I've read the Caroline Kepnes' book but can't for the life of me remember doing so.  Anyway, a bookshop, New York, yoga, what's not to like?  Well, maybe the psychopathic stalker.

Treating myself to a piece of art.  A teeny weeny painting measuirng just 2 ins.  A wintry scene, naturally.  Sweet, yes?

Reading from the book pile (added to after visits to the charity shop and Waterstones).  The current book at bedtime (keeping me on my toes as I try to keep up with who's who or rather who's in who) is number 6 of 2019.  According to the sidebar, I read 42 books last year.  I was thinking of setting a reading target for 2019 but, you know what,  it ain't a competition. 

Enjoying a Burns Night supper (with peas alongside the neeps and tatties because there has to be something green on the plate) a day late.  There's not a drop of Scottish blood in either of us (as far as we know) but I'm rather partial to a homemade vegan haggis.

Familiarising myself (or at least attempting to) with the bells and whistles of the new car.  At the end of last year, the mister made the decision to stop driving (as you may remember, he has his problems which are currently being further investigated).  His tank of a vehicle was too big, my cute runaround too small so, taking a leaf out of Goldilocks' book,  we went for something in between.....ish. We're also familiarising ourselves with the workings of the local bus service as I'd prefer not to embark on a new career as full time taxi driver.  Let's just say one of us is faring better at this than the other but it's early days.

Testing the car's fancy hill start assist system on an incline at the coast.  I think I prefer a good old hand brake.

Baking brown sugar chocolate chip cookies because there were no eggs for a cake and the biscuit tin was empty.

Aching in body parts I didn't know I still had after a 7 week (enforced) absence away from the yoga mat.  

Hatching travel plans (nothing too adventurous).

Spotting a clump of snowdrops in the front garden.  Seeing them always reminds me of the time I was a 10 year old in Mrs Whitehouse's class in junior school and we planted snowdrop bulbs.  I got to take the bowl (it was green) home for the Christmas holidays which my dad advised would be happiest in the cool of the musty pantry where he stored the boxes of Daz and Oxydol washing powder for our shop.  Nothing emerged from the compost, which I remember was so disappointing as we'd made a chart to plot the progress of growth.  

Proving I wasn't to blame for the snowdrop non-show with a pot of soon-to-be crocuses.  Just call me the corm whisperer.

Caffeinating.  Always.

Appreciating quite a lot.

 

 

 

 

 

Posh nosh and other stuff

People who know me are very well aware that one of my favourite activities is to indulge in a proper afternoon tea.  So, a few weeks ago, I met up with my Girlie in London and off we went to Claridges to sample their vegan and vegetarian versions.  'Are you celebrating a special occasion?', asked our waiter. 'No', says I, 'Just, erm, life.'  Did we enjoy it?  You bet.  Every last morsel.

Last week saw a return to the capital for a stay of couple of days, in the company of the Boy this time.  Our base was a hotel on Russell Square (highly recommended) but the main purpose of the visit was to have lunch (again, one vegan, one vegetarian) at The Ritz, a first foray into the world of Michelin starred food for us both. 

Honestly? I had no idea a plant based meal could be so beautifully presented and, at the risk of sounding a tad MasterChef-y,  packed with layers of flavour (I think I now understand what Marcus Wareing bangs on about).  It really was outstanding, from the teeny tiny crisp amuse bouche to the final plates of melt in the mouth 'frivolities'.

Amuse bouche

Salt baked beetroot with pickled blackberries and walnuts

Cauliflower risotto with wild herbs and tonka

A shiny shiny chocolate and banana delice 

The Boy's rum baba

Frivolities

The remainder of the time was spent pounding the pavements, visiting the Charles Dickens museum, browsing the stalls at Borough market, perusing book displays (and buying this), enjoying a performance at the Prince Edward theatre, devouring a sticky rum and pineapple doughnut (me) and a pastel de nata (him), and reliving That Lunch.

 

 

 

 

I love London, me.

 

So far so autumn

Pumpkin spice lattes.  My coffee intake has been seriously reduced of late (I've finally admitted that ten cups a day is probably excessive) but there's now a vegan version of the seasonal beverage at Starbucks and denial was never my strong suit. 

Food. Is there anything more comforting than seeing a pile of chopped roots in readiness for a soup, a dhal, a stew?  The veg man and his daughter have returned to their autumn and winter only pitch at the farmers market and I bought a bagful of soil covered delights for just a couple of quid.  Every meal we've eaten recently has been taken from HFW's Much More Veg, a vegan recipe book which is spicing up the menus here very nicely.  

Woollies.  It's not yet time for the beloved polo neck sweaters (I'd wear these all year round if I could) but other knits have come out of storage and a couple of new ones purchased. My mum loved a cardi.  I've turned into my mum.

Candles.  I never burn candles during the summer months but, once the nights start drawing in, the house is transformed into a fragrant fire risk.  This vegan range is a current favourite.

 Leaves.  Yes, I know I bemoan the constant, year round dropped leafage in our garden but oh, I can't get enough of those piles of autumnal crunchiness. 

 

The telly.  Those panto stalwarts Strictly, Bake Off and The Apprentice have been joined this autumn by some cracking series: Killing Eve (she's a tinker, that Villanelle), Vanity Fair (I've never read the book and have only a vague idea of the story which might be an advantage) and The Mighty Redcar (of special interest as the town is just down the road from here).

Halloween.  The pumpkin has been purchased (you have to move quickly to nab a half decent specimen, I've learned) and is now sitting in the garage awaiting some judicial slashing.   And speaking of slashing, the film releases later this month and I. can't. wait. 

Reading. Once the mammoth A Little Life is finally finished (and the last page can't come soon enough, it's so depressingly miserable), there's yet another stack of charity shop finds to dip into.

 I love autumn, me.

I have never

.....learned to swim.  Yet somehow I produced a fish-like Boy who competed at national level.

 

.....mastered the handstand.  Or the cartwheel.  Or roller skates.

 

.....climbed a tree.   Fortunately for our garden, other people have and still do.

 

.....visited any part of the continent of Africa.  For a number of reasons, I probably never will.  Ditto Australia/Oceania.  Although isn't there a saying, 'Never say never'?

 

.....properly gotten over my fear of dogs.   Lovely Boo (who, by the way, seems to be showing some signs of improvement but there's another trip to see the vet later today) doesn't scare me but many other dogs do.  This can make for very interesting dog walks. 

 

.....willingly parked my car between two other vehicles.  Just. Can't. Do. It.  Even though said car is not an Aston Martin.  Even if it means I end up parking miles away from where I'm meant to be and having to get the bus in.

 

.....danced on a table.  I've danced on a variety of stages but a table?  None that I remember.

 

.....read an entire play by Shakespeare.  I was meant to read Romeo and Juliet as part of the English Literature syllabus at my girls' grammar school but I didn't get very far into it at all.  It was a similar story with Julius Caesar and other writers' works including  Wind in the Willows and The Grapes of Wrath.  I did read Cranford and Northanger Abbey, though many years after I was supposed to.  Needless to say, my GCE exam resulted in a big fat fail.

 

.....ridden on a motorbike.  Scooters, yes, and a particularly memorable ride on one whilst spending the summer on a Greek island, when a young donkey with an impressive set of gnashers inexplicably took a fancy to me, or, more accurately, my rear end.  It was traumatic.  For both of us.

 

.....driven an HGV.  I always fancied having a go with a Class 1 truck but, given my less than skilful reversing, it's probably best I didn't.

 

.....gotten a tattoo.  My dad and my much older brother each had one on their forearms, which used to fascinate me when I was little, but I never took the plunge.  None of my friends have one, either.  None that I can see, anyway.

 

.....dyed my hair a completely different colour.  I've always been blonde.  Various shades, some more flattering than others (I'll never forget the time I looked in the mirror in the dodgy hair salon and Myra Hindley stared back at me), and occasionally with a scattering of reddish hued highlights, but always blonde.

 

.....taken a holiday on my own.  I've travelled on my own but there has always been someone at the other end to join up with.  Unlike my brother who, apart from the several times he took me with him, was always a lone traveller.

 

.....lived on my own.  Even when I went to university the boyfriend-turned-mister tagged along and we shared a flat (well, it was more an attic space with a Baby Belling) in Leamington Spa for three years.

 

.....been as old as I am now.  I love birthdays, me.  Especially when they involve a vegan brownie topped and dripping with caramel cake.

 

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.