climb every mountain

Some days, the need for a day off is more pronounced than others. Thank goodness for days off. Every now and again I contemplate the 20% pay rise that working five days a week would bring, but generally some kind soul reminds me that teaching five days a week is a fast track to personal bad temper and general insanity. Given my current level of personal bad temper and general insanity this would definitely not be wise. Work continues to be...challenging. Still no Ofsted publication, still no new headteacher, still lots of teachers hiding behind things crying. Not ideal.

A man in a long sparkly coat covered in appliqué elephants tried to persuade me to become a storyteller this week. I confess that I was tempted. I have been wishing for a door to open recently, and wonder whether that might be it. Even though I have virtually no intention of following up this opportunity it's nice to think that it exists.

I had a bunch of other things to say about London and books and stuff like that but I have decided to keep it to myself. Not blogging is the new blogging. Writing about not blogging is web2 (er, three?) meta for a new millennium! I shall go and sit on the sofa and think inside my head instead.

days when I ain't spotty

I am feeling a bit sorry for the person who found this blog by searching 'January 2008 reasons to be cheerful'. I know that feeling. I have been there done that.

It would be too obvious to suggest getting an ukulele (though...)

Might I suggest cooking something for yourself from a recipe: perhaps a nice healthy soup, or if that isn't your idea of cheering yourself up (I am strangely cheered by health food, particularly after a week of debauched living such as we have mostly all just had) something with a lot of saturated fat in it. Cheese straws, for instance (more fat than flour!).

Further to the soup/cheese straws I suggest spending at least an hour on the phone to someone nice.

Failing all the above, I find a bloody good cry works wonders, or at least aids restful sleep.

PS I have no idea why I suddenly started posting, either, but suspect that the holiday may be the key. Here's hoping for a better term than the last one. That would indeed be a reason for cheer.

without a dream in my heart

cheese!
Originally uploaded by etcher67

I have made cheese! It was terribly easy, and involved only a pint of whole milk, a stocking and some lemon juice. Next I am going to get some spinach and cook it with the cheese to make Sag Paneer.

It's all gone a bit Country Living around here, what with the cheese making and the gardening. I am currently waiting impatiently for the purple sprouting broccoli plants to arrive in the garden centre, as it is my favourite vegetable of all time, ever (closely followed by buttered cabbage) and now is the time to plant it. Added to this the calendula seeds have come up, which is inordinately exciting. I expect the snails will be thrilled, too. I did some research the other day to find out whether it is possible to eat our native garden snails, as I have an over abundance of them; and I am partial to a snail or six in a French restaurant. However, having read through the process of 'purging' and cooking them, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't go through with it. I hadn't realised I was so squeamish; but for now I think I'll stick with mushrooms and garlic butter, as the taste is broadly similar and you don't have to keep them in a bucket for 5 days before you tuck in.

I really must get some wellies.

cake du jour - Christmas

I remember the frenzy in the kitchen which surrounded the making of the Christmas cake (and pudding). Huge bowls filled with dark lumpy liquids which were difficult to stir, and not that interesting to secretly taste. After the stirring and baking my Dad would be called upon to ice the cake. This creative process involved quite a lot of swearing, and we would stay away from the kitchen while the difficult birth was under way (any similarity to my own creativity and/or kitchen action will be loudly and ineffectively denied). Afterwards we would gather around to admire the result. There were Christmas ornaments which would sometimes be allowed to sit on the hard icing surface: a bristle Christmas tree and a snowman or two. Their bases always had last year's concrete icing still attached to them. I used to lick them. This stikes me as unsanitary now but it didn't occur at the time; I just wanted a little taste of Christmas.

I'm not a huge fan of Christmas cake, it's too rich and too sweet and comes at the end of a day filled with too much excess. The best thing about it at home was the plates it was served upon: the wedding tea service only allowed out of the cupboard once or twice a year. Pretty, pretty plates that I covet still. I do remember the first time I was served a slice of dry-tasting cheese with some un-iced cake, down the road at my teenaged second home: how it tasted different and somehow better along side the sharp contrast of the cheese. I still feel guilty about the betrayal of liking their cake better, though at 15 I liked anything better if it was out of my own home.

Nowadays the cake comes from Marks and Spencer, we are spared the swearing in the kitchen, and fortunately I am no longer quite so belligerent.

Happy Christmas, and may your new year be filled with much merriment. Or cake. Hell: both.

simple pleasures (5) [moving swiftly onwards]

Of all the foods which begin with 'ch' cheese is my favourite. I like cheese which comes arranged on a board with a curvy knife, or offered from large baskets in French restaurants and then placed on your plate in strict 'eat this one first' order. I like posh organic farm cheddar, epoisse, and darilylea and spent much of my childhood hankering after edam and later babybel, but mostly I like sneaking to the fridge repeatedly after dinner to cut slices from the supermarket cheddar and stuff it naughtily into my mouth while I stand in the middle of the kitchen floor looking out of the window. Last weekend this habit led to my falling flat on my arse in the kitchen, but that is another story.