Showing posts from December, 2011

A recipe for tubercular mince pies which would grace any 18th century costume drama kitchen

I am peering at the screen with stinging, watery eyes due to a streaming cold, and I am sneezing every 33 seconds, and the dripping of my nose would shame a Chinese water torturer, but don't you worry, Isabelle and Frances, about pressurising me to write a new post while I am suffering thus. No, don't you fret, my dears.  I am sure you are both sitting there with your feet up, sipping mulled wine, healthy and thriving, while you fire off your comments about it being time I shifted my carcass and wrote something.  No, I'm not bitter at all.  I am very pleased for you, that you are not victims of The Worst Cold in History and can enjoy your Christmas holidays without using up enough Kleenex to soak up the Indian Ocean and leave its bed dry and all its sea life flapping about wondering FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, WHO PULLED THE PLUG? I have been making mince pies.  No, this isn't my excuse for not having written a post since early December, although the way I make mince pies

Evidence that an insight into others' lives can make one feel inferior

I've been sitting in my living room, by the fire, thinking what a nice house I live in.  I was perfectly content.  Happy with the decor, though it's a little tired.  Pleased with my old radio, burbling away while I mark exercise books. And then I watched this on the BBC news website .... check out the link. Proof that I live in squalor compared to these guys .... Fran started on her campaign to live the life of the more privileged

Evidence that one can write quite a lot about things one hasn't done

I'm very aware that I haven't written a blog post for ages.  Or checked anyone else's blogs.  I am getting seriously blog-rubbish. Other things I haven't done this week. 1. I haven't managed to set up our new landline phone.  We have a new one, but all we've done is plugged it in and answered it a few times.  This appears to be the limit of our skills with it.  I did have a look at the manual last weekend to see if I could work out how to set up the answerphone, put in some automatic numbers and adjust the settings on it.  But then I realised I could more easily learn complex medical terminology about obscure parts of the body in an ancient Peruvian language.  This weekend I have been avoiding the phone, giving it a wide berth when I walk past it, like I do people on the street who are dribbling and making unggghhh noises and rolling their eyes at me. I hate new technology, but I hate the manuals more.  I need one of these to cope ...... 2. I have