love those cupcakes

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.

 

Lately in verbs

Marvelling at the profusion of butterflies attracted to the garden of perpetual autumn by the buddleias.  There have been so many years with few, if any, sightings of the colourful visitors and then, this summer, butterflies in droves.  A veritable snowstorm on a daily basis.

Supervising Bea Cat who had also clocked the preponderance of  butterflies.

Tending  a bee which couldn't fly but, for two days, traversed a vast (for a bee) area in the garden before eventually giving up the ghost.  He was given a decent burial.  No, you're a crybaby.

Baking a batch of jammy coconutty madeleines, a blast from the past, for my cousin's son who'd mentioned he just fancied some.  I don't possess dariole moulds so used paper cupcake liners and then simply upturned the cakes to decorate.

Viewing  (several times) the Knife Angel in the town centre.  Here for a month as part of a nationwide tour, the statue, constructed from 100,000 knives which had been seized or handed in at knife banks established in every police authority across the country, is a "monument against violence and aggression". 

Spending an afternoon with the family, complete with picnic, at Mount Grace Priory, just 20 minutes up the road.  Boasting the best preserved Carthusian monastery in England (it was founded in 1398 and functioned until 1539 when Henry VIII stuck his oar in), with manor house, gardens and reconstructed monk's cell, the site has been significantly developed since our last visit.  Whilst there, I bought plants and a book and took out a membership of English Heritage, so there's no excuse for not returning soonish.

Sensing change in the woods, noticing, despite record breaking temperatures, signs of summer on the wane and a new season waiting in the wings.  Nope, cannot lie, I can't wait for that moment, that first, unmistakable whiff of autumn in the air.

Wondering if there's anything more comforting than spending an afternoon in the company of a promising read and a trio of favourite chocs.

Making a wish on a suitably vegan chocolate and caramel cake (courtesy of the Boy) whilst the littlest shouted, 'Quick, it's melting!'.

Loving birthdays.

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

Retreating, part 2

The second retreat, just five days after returning from Croatia, was much closer to home. 

The Lake District.

Two nights in Thomas de Quincey's old gaff (first built in 1565 and extended in 1702, his spice cupboard and opium room are still there) in the cosiest little bedroom with views of Rydal Water. 

Yoga three times a day in front of a log burner in the barn, with inquisitive sheep having a neb through the glass doors.

Delicious veggie/vegan meals in quantities which were double what had been served the week previously in Croatia. (When we were presented with huge, steaming bowlfuls of carrot and ginger soup and a basket of bread the first evening, my yoga teacher whispered,  ''Do you think I should take a picture and send it to the Pirate Chef with the caption, 'This is what a portion looks like' ?'')  

There was ample opportunity during the weekend for some solitary exploration of the local area, including a nose round Rydal Mount, Wordsworth's home for the last 37 years of his life.  His portrait and various possessions are there, along with his cat.  Well, not his actual cat, the cat that currently lives at the house.

The little village church has some impressive stained glass and nearby Rydal Hall's woods, waterfalls and gardens were well worth a mooch.

This is a stunning part of the world, clothed as it currently is in gloriously autumnal colours, and with temperatures and light which are so much more 'me' than Croatia. 

It was time to burst the yoga retreat bubble all too soon.

Upward dog on the mat in the spare room with a spaniel licking your face just isn't the same.

Ah, well.

Namaste.

 

 

Retreating, part 1

Turns out yoga retreats are a bit like proverbial buses.  Not even a sniff of one and then two come along with just sufficient time in between to empty the suitcase, do the laundry and repack.

The first retreat was a seven day stay in Croatia.  On the island of Korcula to be exact, about 20 minutes by ferry from Dubrovnik and reputedly the birthplace of Marco Polo.  This was in the company of my yoga teacher and five other women of various ages from my yoga classes.  

To say I was anxious about cavorting on a mat twice daily in sun and heat in the company of people I hardly knew is something of an understatement.  The night before we were due to leave British soil and airspace, I could think of a million reasons not to go.  But I went and I'm so glad I did.

Korcula is certainly very pretty.  We stayed in a spacious retreat house just steps from the sea and a short walk from the town.  There were regular visits from the owner's rescued street dog, a more gentle giant you couldn't wish to meet. 

The days were punctuated with two yoga sessions, a sunrise meditation and yoga on a platform at the water's edge and an evening practice on a terrace back at the house, in a local yoga studio and in the middle of an olive grove.  

Food (vegan, delicious and generally child sized portions) was provided by a passionately macrobiotic chef who looked like he could well be related to one Jack Sparrow. 

It was a caffeine/sugar/fat/snack free seven days, a bit surprising, really, how extreme this was. (There may or may not have been a sneaky G&T and a final, recklessly rebellious night of bugger it, we're overloading on carbs and wine.) I think everyone in the group found themselves quickly launched into full detox mode, some with more debilitating symptoms than others.  But we survived, albeit a tad thinner.

I have to admit that, even without my medical history, I'm much happier in arctic/antarctic climes, where the temperatures begin with a minus and the light is more muted.  But maybe occasionally it's good to step out of the comfort zone, to try something different.

I opted out of the 3 hour hike and 5 hour boat trip (in 30C heat? I think not) which gave me some welcome space to do what I'd hoped to do in my free time - write.  The project is still very much a work in progress but I've returned home re-inspired, a definite bonus.

The week I was so worried about turned out to be one of challenging stretching and bending, snotty crying (funny how yoga can set off the waterworks), laughing so much your herbal tea comes out of your nose and long, interesting conversations in just the best company.  

I love retreating, me.

 

Life lately in verbs

He chopped back another tree in the back garden. 

I collected the elderberries and made jam. 

He ended up with a stiff neck.

I ended up with purple hands.

The tasteless, and so thick you could cut it with a knife, jam ended up in the bin.

I mooched the charity shops in a nearby market town.  

He sat on a bench and watched the traffic.

I added to the book pile.

The Boy switched on his oven and a Gateau Basque was born.

Boo visited the vet.

I scoffed a vegan afternoon tea.

My cousin paid the bill.

The cat sicked up a mouse. 

Littlest prepared to celebrate a birthday.

I'm flying off in the early hours for a week's yoga retreat.

Namaste.

 

A day in verbs

 Waking very early and, instead of turning over, getting up, feeding two ravenous cats, making a cup of tea, catching  up on the news, and checking e-mails.

Discovering that a lottery ticket purchased on impulse had won £2:70.  

Taking advantage of a quiet house and others still abed, getting on the yoga mat in front of the french doors in the living room, with a cat observing closely from the other side of the glass, and following a couple of bendy sequences in a recently purchased magazine.

Tagging along on the morning dog walk, noting how fortunate we are, living in one of the most maligned towns in the country, to have such a wonderfully wild area right on the doorstep.

Enjoying a raw porridge and berries breakfast whilst Boo turned his nose up at a new brand of dog food.

Acknowledging that yes, we do appear to have a Jo Nesbo corner, including the latest Harry Hole story.

Taking time to choose the next book at bedtime.  After reading some of the noirest of Nordic crime fiction (more on that in a future book related post), a return to the classics was needed.  Now back to some suspense.

Realising I've managed to keep a bunch of flowers alive for over two weeks.  Go me!

Making a raw chocolate tart from the new recipe book and managing to persuade the other two here to give it a try.  

Asking for feedback.

Wishing I hadn't.

 

 

A weekend of firsts

First rose

of the year spotted in the garden, with more to come.  

 First venture outdoors

for our kitty, Buzz .  First time outside since the attack.  It took just half an hour before, predictably, he returned home with a bleeding ear.  He's been advised to steer clear of the bully cat.  Has he heeded the advice?  Time will tell.

 First yoga retreat

No laptop.  No television.  No radio.  No newspapers.  Just three days of yoga, meditation, a rain soaked country walk, relaxation and patting the friendliest of dogs (his muzzle was to prevent unsavoury diet choices) in a stunning house in the beautiful North Yorkshire countryside, just half an hour's drive from here.  En route, I was anxious about spending so much time in the company of eight strangers, telling myself I could easily return home if it really wasn't for me.

But it was wonderful.  Amazing.  Perfect.  I didn't want to leave.

 First taste of Kundalini yoga

I had no idea what to expect, naively assuming that one type of yoga was pretty much like any other.  I mean, I do hatha and ashtanga classes every week, it surely couldn't be that different.

Turns out I couldn't have been more wrong.  There was a clue when the yoga teacher appeared in her white garb, her head tightly wrapped in what I thought was a tea towel but turned out to be a white scarf, and as she proceeded to sit on a white sheepskin.  (I was the exact opposite in head to foot black. And no sheepskin.)

Kundalini is a detoxing yoga, aimed at raising energy through the spine ('awakening the snake') and practice is based on kriyas and meditations and chants, some of which felt (and sounded) more haka than anything else.  Involving many many repetitions (sometimes for 15 minutes and longer), with eyes closed throughout,  it's challenging (at times highly challenging), it shakes you up (literally!), it's sweaty and it's seriously crazy weird (have a look here to get an idea).   But, despite (or because) all of that, I now want to incorporate elements into my home practice.  Though I'll no doubt end up scaring the cats and Boo (they're often an uninvited audience and spooked by downward dog),  in the process.

 First foray into raw vegan eating

 All of the meals served during the retreat were raw vegan and I loved them.  There were mutterings along the lines of 'This would be lovely with some crispy bacon on top' around the table, but I enjoyed every single plate or bowl of food that was placed in front of me. The promise of afternoon tea certainly had pulses racing.  Excitement quickly subsided when the two raw cacao truffles per person appeared. They were, however, delicious and I purchased the recipe book to have a go at making a batch at home, along with some of the other dishes  (I'll eat them, the other two here will more than likely pass).  

I do foresee a dehydrator coming into my life (and kitchen) in the near future.  The Boy is already anticipating a real life rerun of a certain episode of Friends.