Monthly Archives: March 2022

Day 70

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That’s bad. I wrote this nine hours ago, the had groceries delivered, cooked, had tea, napped, watched Tv, got writing, forgot about the blog and then fell asleep in front of the screen. So this is hours into Day 71. Ah well, I do my best. I will now load the pictures and go to bed. Header picture is a mid-19th century Russian Rouble made into a brooch. The other photos are the other side of the brooch (it’s in a spinner mount) and the Maundy money.

Seems like it should be a milestone. Also seems like a lot of the year has gone already.

Rouble

I woke up on a pleasant sunny Spring day and am currently sitting in the dining room typing as the wind buffets the back windows and cold rain patters fitfully against the windows. We are going to have pizza and soup for tea, but are waiting until ASDA delivers the groceries. An earlier delivery means we will be able to relax after the delivery, but also stops us having tea early.

We just had a knock on the door but it turned out to be  a false alarm as it was a cold-caller trying to sell us energy.  He was, to be honest, a very cold caller, due to the wind and rain, but it served him right for disturbing our evening.

Monogram on back

Spin it round and it’s at the front

At work we had a few parcels to do and managed to do a couple of extra deals via eBay by judicious use of email and discount.

We also bought a couple of lots of stuff in, and despite th4 owner’s great efforts, we have piles of stuff all over the place – stacked on counters, out on display and in piles behind the counter. Some of it has already appeared on eBay and I’m hoping it will sell. It is in the realm of “he had fun collecting it”, which is dealer shorthand for “it has no value”.

Amongst other things I packaged up a lovely maundy set (given out at Ely Cathedral in 1987  That’s where my stained glass pictures come from. Then I put a lovely coin brooch on eBay.

Maundy money obverse . . .

 . . . and reverse (they are too shiny to photograph well)

Day 69

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Pizza tonight, with lots of coleslaw. The coleslaw was home made. The pizza wasn’t. Pizza for lunch tomorrow and probably for tea. However, I will make a large green salad for that, well you wouldn’t want the menu to become boring, would you?

I have also done a vegetable stew and pea and mint soup. It was time I got round to it, but our soup needs for the week had been filled by liquidising last Saturday’s vegetable stew. Frugality and a high fibre diet both have many things to recommend them.

I didn’t photograph the coleslaw because, with white cabbage, it tends to look bland. Also, the pumpkin seeds I put in it look like mouse droppings from certain angles. My cooking is basic, but my food photography is even less refined. However, I thought I’d better take some new photographs for the blog.

The soup is the simplest I make (Apart from the one I will describe later). Soften some onions, add peas and a stock cube, boil for a few minutes, add some torn mint leaves and then liquidise.

The easiest? It’s the leftover stew that becomes soup, but it isn’t really a recipe, so I’m not sure if it counts.

Vegetable stew

The lighting wan’t very good, so I resorted to flash. It still looks rather light and I’m going to pretend I had a soft focus filter on.

Tch! The date just changed, so it’s now day 70. A fifth of the year gone and the best I can say I’ve achieved is that I’ve made pea and mint soup. It is very good soup, but it isn’t quite the same as winning a Nobel Prize or winning the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry. I fear they may both be beyond my grasp . . .

Day 68

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I was going to break out of the tyranny of the post numbering system, because I was having trouble with it now I have to add three months together, but then I panicked, because I started to worry about missing a day if I didn’t have a numerical sequence. It’s amazing what you can worry about if you have a fretful nature.

Anyway, it’s 10.55am and I have just returned from the blood test. I was happy to be back at the surgery, because it is a more restful way of having the test.Or, it was until today. One of the less sympathetic nurses perforated me three times, apologised and sent me on my way with instructions to go and get it done at the hospital because she couldn’t get any blood.

I’m going to give it a day or two because I don’t need any more holes for now, there will be no parking and there will now be a queue.

On the way back I was nearly involved in an accident when I pulled over to let someone past, and a driver behind me pulled out to overtake, nearly hitting the oncoming vehicle. Clearly they were only watching me rather than the whole road ahead.

Then I went down a road and found it blocked by construction workers, even though it had signs up indicating it was clear. It only took a minor detour, but why, when all you have to do is put up signs and dig holes, can’t you do it right?

If I got 50% of my job wrong, I’d not be in a job for long. But if I had a hard hat and a big digger everyone would just shrug and drive round.

 

Day 67 (Part 2)

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I nearly go ahead of myself there, and was about to write “Day 68”.  Fortunately I double checked and, after using a calendar,  was able to correct myself. My number mania has, I thin, gone far enough. If I can’t cope with numbers larger than 67 I am going to have  a tough time as w enter the summer. Time, I think, to put an end to it after this one.

Of course, as I begin to write the next post, I may have second thoughts . . .

As part of the last post I read an article of originality. Most of it wasn’t particularly gripping, but I did notice one tip, which is one I have tried to use in recent years – Triple the Amount of Work You Produce. I have tried to work harder in the last few years, though not three times as hard, and feel this is the best advice I have seen. It agrees with my thoughts (so it must be good) and it seems to have helped me in recent years.

In checking my days, I also found it was British Pie Week. What  a magnificent day to be alive. What could possible make it better? Well, how about knowing that this week exists? They were going to have it in January but they didn’t quite get round to it. You know how it is . . .

Of course, I haven’t lost track of it being International Women’s Day. How could I, with it being advertised on TV and loads of women banging on about it?

I’ve just been looking at lists of poetry magazines with a view to submitting. There are several I can’t submit to. Why? Because they are only for women. In fact, using Google, there are over 40  of them.

I had a quick check for magazines that only accept submissions from men. Can’t find one.

Tell, me again, I said to Julia, as I was telling her about this and supervising her washing the pots (see, men can multi-task), what is this equality of which you speak?

Day 67

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I heard back from one of my other submissions. Another acceptance. Too easy. Something bad must happen soon. I will become complacent, or editors will realise that deep down I am not worth publishing . . .

Success can be  a troublesome thing to deal with. My previous four attempts were turned down on the basis of obscurity, being late and not being good enough (twice). In some ways I find that easier to deal with, which is really the wrong way round. You often see articles about how to cope with rejection, but nothing about how to cope with success. Maybe I should write that as an article – it would be more original than another one about coping with rejection.

That’s a question – is it possible to be “more original” or is it like pregnancy and uniqueness? You can’t be “more pregnant” or “slightly pregnant”. You can, according to some people be “nearly unique” , “almost unique” and various other types of unique, but they all really mean “not unique” and are a misuse of the word. I saw one example on eBay that was properly used but hilarious in context.

Someone ha listed an item as “rare”. This, in eBay speak just means “I have not seen one before”. Five sales down the page was another of these rare items, which tends to suggest they may not be rare. The second one, which made me laugh, was described as “unique”. Clearly it wasn’t.

And that’s what made me think about my statement above – can you be “more original”?, Or is it simply “original” or “not original”? Have I fallen into sloppy writing habits?

What do you think?

Stone on the Floor

 

 

 

Day 66

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I changed yesterday’s menu slightly, but as some people read it I won’t go back and change it in the post. I will, however, add a couple of items to the list – I used some leeks to bulk out the onions (I’m using ready chopped onions to save effort for my hands and didn’t want to open a new pack). I also did stir-fried greens to give us a better selection of vegetables.

Greens are one of those things that are a problem when you take Warfarin as they contain a lot of Vitamin K, which is the antidote to Warfarin. That’s why I had a problem a few months ago (the nurse spotted the problem immediately – seems they always see it around Christmas time when the Brussels sprouts start). I’m now trying to keep up my consumption of greens because I need to be consistent with my diet, and because they are healthy and low carb.

I really should start counting the number of different types of fruit and vegetables we eat in a week. It’s vey easy to get into a rut when you order online from the menu headed “My  Favourites”.

It appears that you really need a diet based on 30 types of fruit and veg if you are to achieve optimal gut health. That’s quite a lot.

Prawn linguine with rocket, tomato (and spaghetti)

Last week we had leeks, onion, garlic, carrots, parsnips, swede (rutabaga), sweet potato, celery, tomato, mushrooms, cauliflower, oranges, apples, pears and figs. I’m not sure if you are allowed to count potatoes and rice, you can’t for your five a day, so I won’t count them. That’s fifteen. You can count fresh herbs, so that’s coriander and thyme (though I’m not clear if adding it then removing it before serving counts). You can count spices so that adds ginger. I’m pretty sure that stuff sprinkled from a jar doesn’t count, so just the one. The article counts oats in muesli, so oats in porridge must count, as does the wheat in Weetabix, I suppose. Blue berries and bananas – nearly forgot them. We don’t eat enough chillies to qualify, I’m sure. I think that’s it. And peanut butter – it’s nuts.

We didn’t have any seeds, nuts or pulses, partly because I’m not a natural eater of seeds and partly because Julia mutters every time I used chick peas, lentils or beans. She will have to get used to it, because if we are going to have 30 a week we will need them.

That’s 24 because I just remembered I had avocados on Wednesday. I’m actually quite pleased with that.

Nasi Goreng

It leaves six extra to find but if I add chick peas, beans and lentils, plus peas in the soup I just need to add broccoli, peppers, courgettes (which are all easy enough) and we’re on  – thirty one.

Time for me to confess now – though I blame Julia for the lack of pulses, I’m to blame for the lack of Mediterranean style vegetables as I don’t like them roasted and got fed up of ratatouille because we ate so much of it as we transferred to a semi-vegetarian diet in lockdown.

Avocado and Wild Garlic on Sourdough

If I were to use a subtitle for this post it would be – I can cook and I can eat vegetables – I just prefer takeaways and cake! And that, in one sentence, is the reason why I weigh too much.

 

Day 65

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Target: 250 words

Subject: General twaddle

Objective: Get it done then get on with cooking

Menu: Sausages, cauliflower cheese, onion sauce, potato wedges

Confession: The carbs thing was going well until I got to the end

Got up, pottered round, ate a bacon sandwich provided by Julia, wasted time on computer, watched Sense and Sensibility on TV, lunch (vegetable soup, incorporating the remains of last night’s vegetable stew), wrote by hand (carefully – I want to be able to read it later), two episodes of Criminal Minds on Prime, cruised eBay and am now writing today’s blog post whilst working on tonight’s menu.

The objective is to keep it easy (one roasting tray) and use leftover cauliflower. I was going to use it for soup but we still have plenty of veg soup after liquidising the stew and after that we have  a bag of peas for pea soup.

Menu planning has been something that has suffered recently. I can’t blame it on long covid, or even old age, I’m just fed up with menu planning, having fallen into the trap of ordering much the same food each week and cooking the same things. I happen to like vegetable stew with dumplings, so that’s OK. I also like vegetable stew without dumplings. And I like it liquidised and served as soup. That’s three meals taken care of. Something with roast veg. Pizza (or quesadillas). That’s two or three more. Corned beef hash. That’s nearly an entire week and I haven’t had to think. I really should do better. We have pasta, we have prawns, we have other veg.

Watch this space. I’m going to set myself a target of cooking something new every week. This week it’s pea soup, so that’s easy enough. Next week, who knows?

I’m also going to start eating salad for lunch. maybe just one day a week, but it’s a start. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Or, more appropriate in my case – a supertanker takes 20 minutes to come  to a halt.

Time passing . . .

Day 64

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Here I am, firmly in the territory of the insomniac, and wondering what to say. I have decided to finish with the numbered titles because, as Tootlepedal said, it does tend to make you more aware of the passing time. However, I confess that tonight, I will be glad just to slap a number on it and go to bed.

I had a disturbed night lat night, a strange dream and, after returning from work, an evening of intermittent napping in my chair. As a result, I wasn’t tired at bedtime.

This evening I did some research on poetry magazines, took my methotrexate (ten tiny tablets once a week) and began to catalogue my medallion collection.

The irony of methotrexate, for those of you who are not familiar with it, is that they are very fiddly tablets, not much bigger than the head of a dress-making pin. I take them for arthritis, which even with the drugs, still makes my fingers inconveniently stiff. You would have thought that tablets to treat a condition that causes such a loss of manual dexterity would be big, rather than tiny. Normally they make things, like print and keys, bigger for us old folk.

The medallion collection is intended to be 100 in number, with one for every year from 1900 to 2000, which is actually 101. I decided on that because there are always such arguments about when centuries begin and end. The 20th century actually started on January 1, 1901 and ended on December 31, 2000. However, we all celebrated the new millennium on December 31, 1999. I could do the right thing, start it at the year 1901 and argue with people about it for years to come. Or I can start it in 1900 and explain to the few people who notice, that I want a quiet life more than I want to be 100% accurate.

The medal for 1900 commemorates the centenary of the death of poet William Cowper. I now know a lot more about him than I did this afternoon, which shows how useful numismatics is as a hobby. I now know, for instance, that I have been pronouncing his name wrong. It’s pronounced Cooper.

 

Day 63

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Not sure what to say today. I really ought to write for posterity, with my thoughts about the current situation, but, if I’m honest, I don’t have many. Madmen will be mad, nations will follow like sheep and that’s all there is to it. We know this because we’ve done it in the UK and USA too. Even if this is all sorted out there are still plenty of problems scattered round the world and plenty of people willing to make things worse.

So I’m going to ignore what is happening. Why worry about something I can’t change? I have, as I keep saying, declining brain power, and I don’t intend wasting any of the remaining capacity in worrying.

Instead, I will write. Writing keeps me sane. I was about to say that you never hear about a poet invading his neighbours, but the words Gabriele D’Annunzio came to mind. Let’s just say that you rarely hear about a poet invading his neighbours.

So, having let posterity know why I won’t be writing about serious matters I will now turn to poetry. The year 2022 has seen me struggle to write. I have made 11 submissions, mostly using old material. I had to go back into the archives and polish up some old work. Some of it has been rejected before, and some didn’t work at the time. After a bit of effort, I have knocked some of it into shape and it is doing OK so far. Of course, that still leaves the problem that I don’t have enough for this month’s submissions.

Of the eleven submissions, one was lost in cyberspace and three were rejected. Four have been accepted and I am waiting for answers on the other three.

And that, I’m afraid, is what I want to write about. I feel I ought to be more sensitive and empathetic, but I’m not.

 

Day 62

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A couple of days ago, searching for “pig” on the blog (I wanted that photo with the pigs and cornflowers) I ended up with a lot of pigeon pictures. This, I suppose, is a clue to the workings of search engines.

I offer that thought as nothing more than a stand-alone musing. My brain is in neutral and that is the sort of thing that crops up.

The colour of soup is another thought – I mostly  tend to make soups that are in the fawn/beige range these days. I used to make them more golden, or more orange. Somewhere along the line I seem to have become less colourful. It might an example of food-related pathetic fallacy, or it may just be that I’m using more swedes (rutabagas).

Time, I think, to bring a bag of frozen peas to the party. I like pea soup. Or nettles. It will be that time of year soon and nettles always brighten a soup up. This must be how old age starts (for me at least), beige food difficulty in thinking, beige food and those bedroom slippers with Velcro straps . . .

I went to the pharmacy tonight. I have no choice. It’s the first shop I’ve been in for a month (apart from the one where I work). A month ago, you guessed it, I went to the pharmacy. I haven’t been out in public since we went to see Number One son just before Christmas. Whether this is old age, Covid or a mental health condition remains to be seen.

I’m also speculating on the nature of international politics. I call it the cesspit theory of politics, and anyone who has ever had dealings with a septic tank will know what I mean. In cesspits and politics the same sort of thing seems to rise to the top.