Show and tell

I've been living in a creative maelstrom this week. It all started with a cake I made.

We've had success with the vegetable garden this summer, and have a lot - a LOT - of courgettes coming to fruition now.  Zucchini, for our American readers.  We're eating them with supper most nights, cooked in a variety of interesting ways, often sliced into long thin strips and pan-fried with mixed herbs and a little butter.  Nom nom nom.

Anyway.  I was flicking through a free magazine that came through the door, and lo! it contained a recipe for chocolate courgette cake.  I had to try it.

Readers, it was excellent.  Really.  Plenty of sugar, cocoa, eggs, flour, vanilla.  All the usual malarky, but you also add loads of finely grated courgette.  The cake was dark, moist and delicious, and I shall definitely make it again.  I tore the recipe out of the magazine and put it in the new noticeboard.

In fact, here's a link to the recipe. Try it, you'll thank me.  Plus, it's a great way to make children eat vegetables, apparently. 

Mwahahahahahaaaaaaa.

What's that you say?  Why, yes, I have made another fabulous notice board, thanks for asking.

Here it is, look:

Hanging in the kitchen, adding a much-needed point of interest to the otherwise dull sad corner where the bin lives.  None of the cool appliances ever go there.  It's like the Woking of the kitchen world. 

Inspired by my soaraway success in the noticeboard arena, I made some cushion covers to replace a couple that had got tatty and spotted*, utilising some of the fabric liberated from father-in-law WithaY's antique-restoring stash. 

Unfortunately, this gold one looks a bit sad and flat. I think it needs a new feather cushion thingy.  We all get a bit squashed by life, I reckon, but this poor cushion shows it more than most.

However, this one I am delighted with:

I spent bloody ages making sure the pattern was central to the front of the cushion, as I knew that otherwise, every time I looked at it I'd get all anal** and grumpy about it being off-centre.

There is a new set of bathroom curtains almost finished, too, I plan to get them up tomorrow.

Other news:  Went into town today thinking that the rain had stopped for the afternoon.  Fool that I was.  Mr T would have pitied me, no doubt about it.   

As soon as I parked the car and got the heavy box of crockery and assorted ephemera from the boot, the heavens opened.  Actually, I think the heavens opened, and hell was raining upwards, there was so much sodding water everywhere. 

I had to walk (slowly because of the heavy box) to the charity shop in torrential rain, blinded by the wet stringy hair that was in my eyes (mine, not someone else's with no concept of personal space) and my raincoat hood blinkering me like some sort of piteous Victorian cab-horse. 

Gah.

By the time I got to Oxfam and handed the box to the nice lady behind the counter, I was soaked.  My trousers were absolutely drenched, but my feet stayed dry - hurrah for Converse shoes! - so I thought I might as well walk around town as it wasn't physically possible to get any wetter.

A man from Wessex Water was stood on the pavement beside his van, watching the rain flooding down onto the main road from a narrow driveway, muddy water cascading into the drains.

"You out collecting?" I asked him.

He laughed and said  "Don't need to, we've got plenty thanks."

It's rained almost every day this month, or that's how it feels.  Hopefully we'll have a nice Indian summer next month.

My roses are looking splendid though.  All this rain has brought out a second crop of flowers, so I am dashing out and cutting a few in between downpours so we can enjoy them in the house. 

Mr WithaY bought me a proper woven willow shopping basket the other week when he was at the Wilderness Gathering.  It's a three day event where Men*** gather to do Manly Things.  However, he didn't stay there this time, he commuted from home daily.  Last time he went he slept in his little tent and spent the weekend making a fish spear, casually whittling and lashing as all the other manly men wandered past enviously.

I imagine he'll get a stern letter from Ray Mears, telling him off.

It was very impressive, though.



*Spotted with bits of food, mostly, from where we use them to rest trays on when we scarf down dinner in front of the telly.  Shame, shame, we are chavs and slatterns.  But, hey, Star Trek and all, right at dinnertime. 

**Welcome, dodgy word googlers!

***And women. 

Dig it

Mr WithaY has a huge crack in his windscreen.

I remember when I had to get a new windscreen.  It was like a hobby after a while.  I'm almost jealous. 

Other news:  We've been doing stuff in the garden.  We've planted up a nice terracotta trough with pink and purple heather plants to attract bees, which looks very smart.  I hope the bees wipe their tiny feet and sleek down their hair tidily before they use it.

Mr WithaY sawed one of the useless water butts in half and we are going to plant seed potatoes in it.  The seed potatoes are sprouting in the kitchen, so I expect we'll plant them next weekend. 

We also ordered the timber and topsoil to make a vegetable bed to go at the end of the back garden, and have a lot of seeds ready to plant.  Carrots, lettuce, pak choi, French beans, courgettes and onions.  Well, the onions aren't seeds, they are teeny baby onionlings.  After last year's failure, I am not bothering to plant tomatoes. 

If we grow enough courgettes, I might be able to use them for something artistic.  You never know your luck. 

We've also got a pack of wildflower seeds from the BumbleBee Conservation Trust.  Mr WithaY bought me membership as part of my birthday present, which was a lovely surprise.  You get all kinds of nice things when you join.  A car sticker, a lapel badge of a charming little bee, the aforementioned seeds, a handy poster with pictures of all the types of bee in the UK, a book on bee-friendly gardening.  Go on, join up.

I'm still thinking about getting a beehive for the garden, but I will wait till we've sorted out all the hard landscaping first I think.  While we were at the timber merchant's I picked up a brochure for hard landscaping requisites, and am now all inspired. 

It's amazing what a few hours of sunshine will do for your enthusiasm.

Harvest time

Mr WithaY was out in the back garden mowing the lawn this afternoon. I kept one ear cocked the entire time, like a terrier puppy in a 1960s children's film, listening out for the sound of catastrophic personal injury.

We had intended to have a constructive day doing some garden stuff, but we are hampered by the weather and our almost complete lack of interest in gardening.

We like hacking stuff down, laying waste, slashing and burning, decimating greenery and so on, but we both get very, very tired awfully quickly when it's time to clear up the mess.

Earlier, I gave the garden table and benches a coat of weatherproofing gunk, rubbing it well into the grain as ordered on the scary stern instructions on the tin. Sadly, during my efforts, it also managed to get rubbed well into the grain of my fingers. Despite washing with soap, three applications of Nivea and a good scrub with deep cleansing lotion, my fingers are still sticky and blackened in patches. Most appealing.

If I grip the mouse too tightly, it sticks to my fingers. Heh.

At least I should withstand the worst of the winter weather now.

Anyway, during the course of the gardenfest, Mr WithaY harvested more of Nature's Bounty...

Our tomato crop.


I also harvested some apples from our tree.

Please note the stoic form of Rosemary the sheep over in the corner. Our apple tree is on its last legs, as warty and knobbly as a Dr Who monster, but the apples are incredible.

And there are plenty more to go, still.

I am planning to do something exciting with them and some pork chops later.

Mr WithaY gave the dog/log shed a coat of green wood-preserver as well, hopefully proofing it from the worst of the winter for another few years. We built it when we had our bonkers dog, and it comes in handy for storing the annual log delivery, and also housing any visiting dogs. I keep wondering if it would better to demolish it, but the slab it sits on took 3 tons of concrete, mostly mixed by hand and transported by wheelbarrow by Mr WithaY and Bestest Mate. Happy days. Boy were they both knackered and grumpy when they finished.

It looks a lot like Autumn out there now, we've put the little solar lights away in the shed and I pruned the buddleia right back.  Hopefully it will be as lovely next summer - the butterflies were all over it this year, it was gorgeous to watch.  I have pulled up the Mystery Plants, which had developed huge numbers of golden flowers.  We never did establish what they were, or if they were of any use in the kitchen.  I know it wasn't Fat Hen, as the flowers were completely different.

Other news:  I was inspired to pick up some of my dressmaking that I hadn't even taken out of the box for 18 months this weekend.  A very positive sign, I think. 

And tomorrow, up to London for another week of high-powered stuff.    Whatever it is I do.  I forget over the weekend.

Mock The Leek

Ah the joys of not sleeping. So, rather than going and doing something useful like...oh, I don't know...the ironing maybe, I am posting photos of Mystery Vegetables for you to identify for me.

We could have a competition maybe?

Name That Green. Now That's What I Call Greenery. Green Or No Green. I have a great format in my head, if only I could come up with a great title.

I might need to call the BBC with my ideas tomorrow.

Anyhoo. Picture 1, an arty leaf shot:



Picture 2, displaying the rhubarb-like stems:



Picture 3. Admire the mighty WithaY vegetable patch! Look upon our works of cultivation and despair, humanity!



The basil's still not dead, which I think is rather impressive.

Also, due to popular demand* I am posting up the photos of the Huge Fire we witnessed the other week.

Scene 1 was taken from inside the coffee shop, Scene 2 was taken from the steps outside the coffee shop. I was all set to run much closer and take Scene 3, but then my brain managed to finally make itself heard and stopped me from endangering my life.





Other news: I am waiting expectantly for our new cleaning team to turn up. I have tidied up specially. When the lady from the agency came round to assess the house the other week, she said "Oh good - they like having to do houses with a bit of dust!"

I was mortified.

Also, am officially back at work today, although I suspect that the work will mostly consist of reassembling my laptop and trying to get back onto the work intranet and email system. I am going up to London on Monday which will be a bit of a big step, but hopefully it will be ok.

Aha. Domestic assistance has arrived. Marvellous. I'll go and put the kettle on.


Bah. Just noticed that this post has the time I started it at the bottom, ie late last night, rather than the time I actully posted it, ie at about 0900 today. If I were more technically competent (and could be arsed) I'd amend it, but sadly I will have to pretend I meant to do it this way.

Yes, I am a time traveller. I hope you're impressed.


*Youngest Sis was grumbling that she hadn't seen them.

Clean clean

Today I have mostly been tidying up. Not from any sense of shame at the hideous slovenly state of the house - I have managed to suppress that after years of practice.

No, it's to make the place look tidy for next week.

Why?

Because, dear reader, we are finally admitting defeat and addressing The Staff Question. As a result, the WithaY house will benefit from the professional attentions of a cleaner, once a fortnight.

It has been dawning on me over the last few months that doing my new job, which entails 3 14-hour days a week in London and two busy days working at home, I have neither the time nor the inclination to spend the evenings and weekends doing the ironing, washing, cleaning etcetera. Mr WithaY is an absolute star, and does the vast majority of the cooking, but even so there is a lot left to cover.

Mr WithaY is very busy with work too, and away from home a good deal one way and another, as well as having Father-in-Law WithaY's house, garden etc to manage, so he doesn't have the time either.

So, what's the solution? Why, pay someone else to do it, of course.

As a result, I have had that episode of The Simpsons* in my head - the one with Steve Martin, where Homer takes over managing the rubbish disposal, with the slogan "Can't someone else do it?" Maybe it's residual guilt for being too crap to manage my own home.

Regardless of the small inner voice saying "Shame on you, you lazy good-for-nothing hussy, are you not even doing your own ironing now?" I am going ahead, and the cleaner starts next Friday.

Other news: The WithaY courgette harvest is doing well, we have had several off the two plants already, and there are more flowers forming. I have a fine (if small) crop of basil holding its own in the garden, and the chives aren't entirely dead.

There are also several thriving Mystery Plants which we grew from seed. I have no idea what they are, so will take a photo when I remember and see if any of the keen gardeners out there can identify it for me.

They had a Green Day** at work and dished out vegetable seeds, so I took some home, and these were some of the results. I have no idea what they are, as they were in a little screw of paper; I am thinking possibly chard. But I don't know. I tasted the leaves and they aren't obviously poisonous, always a bonus in a vegetable.

The fiery phoenix is still looking mighty fine out in the garden, you'll be glad to hear. I am now eying up Rosemary the Sheep speculatively***.



*"Trash of the Titans" - I love the internet. There's an answer for every question.

**Ecology, not music

***In an art way, not a dodgy West Country sheep-botherer's way.