A Thousand Words

A picture is worth a thousand words, or so they say.

This painting is one which I began working on quite a few years ago.   It hasn't been touched since then, I abandoned it.    Luckily, instead of throwing it out (like so many others) I propped it up on the top of my work cupboard, so that I would see it every day and perhaps one day feel like finishing it properly.

It has taken all this time, but finally, I feel like picking up my brushes and doing some more work on it.   Unfortunately all the animals which have been blocked in are no longer with us, but they remain in my heart, in my memories and in this painting.

During the last few months Max has been unwell, indeed he has become rather too well acquainted with the NHS recently.   He is on the mend, gradually regaining strength, thank goodness.

Without wishing to be morbid, things like that do make you think about life and legacies.

Some of my treasured items are old letters written by my parents, their diaries and, of course,  my old kitchen journals - recipe books handwritten by unknown cooks of old.   I love simply reading them and I adore making and baking some of the recipes they wrote down.   I often think about the women, what their lives were like, their characters.

Over the years I have collected together a small stash of paintings and stories about life around here, in Owl Wood and round and about.  They are for my grandchildren.   The drawings are not great and neither is the painting, but they tell some of the stories which are deep in the memory banks of my family and their children, my grandchildren.

Take the painting above, it isn't great but that was never my intention.   I wanted to tell stories with it for it contains elements of at least a dozen funny family stories within it, it will make them smile.

Max is great at spinning a yarn for the grandchildren.   It is not something I can do, I prefer to tell my stories in silly pictures, like this one.

It is time I went down to the dressing room and dug out my old paints.  Time to get the brushes out and tell some more stories.

Poppy's Home-made Sausages & Bacon

Over in Shanghai, Poppy has begun her preparations for some special celebrations next month, she has been making home-made sausages.     Miles loves them but he'll have to be patient for they won't be ready for a few weeks yet.   They are being made for Chinese New Year, February 8th.

She has also been busy preparing her own favourite, Chinese bacon.

Image borrowed from nipic.com

The bacon and sausages take quite a while to cure/dry/mature, but when they are ready and cooked they will look like the photograph above.     I can imagine Miles salivating already and I know that Max is looking forward to Poppy making him something similar during their summer visit this year.

Chinese New Year celebrations see friends and family getting together and whenever people get together that means that lots of treats are produced from the kitchens.   The sausages and bacon are traditional treats.

Poppy is a trained cook, so Miles is absolutely spoilt with her superb meals but I think these are something very special!

"Old apple tree, we wassail thee"

I made two slices of white toast, soaked it in cider then poured the remainder of the cider into my oldest jug.   There was no special significance in choosing my oldest jug, I just felt drawn to use it.    We donned hats, coats and Wellington boots and made our way out to the garden.

Unfortunately we lost three apple trees to disease last year leaving us with two Bramley apple trees.   Tradition dictates that one should wassail the oldest tree   In the end we decided to wassail both of them, just to be on the safe side.

Once the slice of cider-soaked toast had been  placed in the branches, Max steadily poured the cider around the tree as we marched around it singing:

"Old apple tree, we wassail thee
And hoping thou wilt bear
For the Lord doth know where we shall be
Till apples come another year.
For to bear well, and to bear well
So merry let us be.
Let every man take off his hat
And shout to the old apple tree
Old apple tree, we wassail thee
And hoping thou wilt bear
Hatfuls, capfuls, three bushel bagfuls
And a little heap under the stairs
Hip! Hip! Horray!"


It was enormous fun, especially as we were joined by Merry, she thought it was a great way to delay her bath and bedtime.

Second time around we sang even more lustily.   We were really getting into our stride by then!  

It was great fun and it felt right.  

Respect for the apple tree which provides us with the fruit for so many apple pies and crumbles.

Xitang and Manning the Pump in Lincolnshire.

The rain has been falling heavily since about 11 am so the road under the old railway bridge 

has become a swimming pool (well, paddling pool) as the water drains off the fields 

and runs down to the river at Butterbump Splash.   

Of course, compared to those areas which have been so badly affected during recent weeks, 

we have absolutely nothing to grumble about!

Xitang water town, China.

Max is outside, manning the pump, a necessary action if we are to keep our water drainage and septic tank systems working properly.   The little submersible pump needs some extra help now and then - and today is definitely one of those times.   The joys of living in the country and on heavy clay soil.  

Yesterday I came across a big folder of the photographs which Miles and Poppy took when they visited the ancient water town of Xitang.

Somehow they seem appropriate.

It feels this wet here, today.

Xitang is lovely by day, but beautiful by night, even on a rainy night when all the umbrellas

get put to good use and the lanterns are lit.

The hustle and bustle would be a bit too much for me, but I can imagine that the atmosphere must be very lively with food vendors and cooking smells, tourists, and locals.

Back to Lincolnshire and the weather, of course.

Dobson hates getting his paws wet.   There he is, part Labrador, for goodness sake, and he either goes around puddles, or jumps across them.  

 He hates to go out when the rain is falling, despite the fact that I always give him a good rub down with his towel and make sure that he is dry 

before I dry myself.   

You can probably imagine how difficult it is to get him outside, in this kind of weather, to do the necessary.    However, sometimes a boy has to do what a boy has to do, even though he assures me that he really doesn't need to go.     I clip his lead on and make him come with me into the garden.   He tugs to go back inside, but I take him around the bushes and shrubs uttering encouraging phrases..."Pee-pee"  or take him to the corner of the polytunnel (always a tempting spot to have a widdle, providing Max doesn't see him)   "Come on Dobson, pee-pee-pee, wee-wee".   "Oh, for goodness sake, dog, pee-pee...".   It takes an age to get him started, then an age to finish.

He really needed that break.

The rain is still falling heavily, there are vast puddles forming in the Owl Wood and everywhere, including the gardens, is very squelchy, the ground saturated.   The ditches along the lane were brim full this morning, I can only imagine how they must be after all this rainfall.

Enough of the rain talk.   

I came across this photograph of the two of you - remember when it was taken?

xxx

Preparing for the next Round

Today has been spent doing normal things, a small oasis of calm before our next lovely guests arrive.

Dobson was having an off day and refused to walk along the lane with me.   I tried persuading him, but he dug he heels in.   I wasn't prepared to drag him along on a walk, so I took him back to the garden and went off by myself.

Through Butterbump Splash and along the lane to Dovecote Dell.

I took a small detour to the church yard, then down through the farmyard - a very muddy farmyard, just as well I was wearing Wellies.   The air was mild, the sun was shining.   It was wonderful.

Back home, I baked a sponge cake and a load of chocolate brownies, then used the sponge to make an enormous trifle.   Beth and James are staying with us for a few days, so they will make short work of it.   I also made a vast potato salad and a big pot curry.    I plan to do relaxed entertaining and easy meals.

Max has been busy in the garden - shredding the mini mountain of sticks which have blown down through the year.      They were soon shredded and scattered along the pathways around the vegetable garden, forming a nice dry surface.    

We always enjoy this job - it tidies up the woodland and it provides us with free mulch.  Win-win...and fresh air, to boot.

Poppy, Miles, I'll post photographs and more news tomorrow.    The internet has been dropping in and out today, sorely trying my patience.

XXX

Keeping the Home Fires Burning, Cowslip Cottage Update for Poppy and Miles

Max and I spent all morning down at Cowslip Cottage.    Max had some more wiring to put in before the builders can get on and do the rest of the work.   I assisted by holding wires, pulling wires, writing measurements down...dull stuff, but it meant that Max could achieve a lot more than if he were down there by himself.

During the really quiet times I wondered off into the gardens and made a start on sweeping the leaves - for there were drifts of them, three feet deep in places.

The colours were glorious and almost made the hard work seem worthwhile.

Here's the view over your back garden fence - the parkland looks just as delightful, although I do miss the cattle, they have been moved indoors for the winter.

So much colour, even in winter.     The couple who lived there for so long really did a marvellous job of planting the garden for all year round enjoyment.    By the way, Poppy, there are still some yellow poppies in bloom.

Even the tiny shed has a cascade of gold to decorate it.   Simple and beautiful.   The lovely fucshia is blooming strongly..

and I was really excited to find some winter flowering jasmine...

Back to the cottage.    We worked on the cabling, up ladders and down ladders, ditto stairs.   It is getting there.

 Today is very cold, a seeping, creeping damp cold, so now that the chimney sweep has been and cleared all the soot and birds nests out of the chimney we decided to have a small log fire.      It drew beautifully and definitely helped to keep the chill at bay.    I know the fireplace is coming out and a log burner going in the space, but I thought you may like to see what it looks like with a fire in your hearth.    

It is an old chestnut, but that room is going to be magnificent at Christmas times and delightful at all others.

Home!

Once we got home I had a quick cup of tea and then went along to feed my old friend, Benedict.   He loves those pony nuts...eyes closed in total enjoyment.

I also had a chat with old Oscar, he was busy outside (walking sticks propped against the wall) filling a bird feeder and trying to ensure that those pesky rats can't get in to steal the bird food.    Somehow, I think the rats will win, but he likes to keep pottering and to feel useful.

So, my darlings, your cottage is coming along wonderfully...did I tell you that I have painted the exterior in pink............;-O
Love,
fliss&max

I am Leading a Double Life and it comes so easily!

It is slightly worrying that this new persona of mine,

Felicity Parsons,

seems to be a cloak which I feel so comfortable in wearing.

Does this mean that I am a natural-born liar, a cheat, a fraudster?

Crumbs!  I hope not.

Dishonest, false and shallow people are a pet hate of mine.

I prefer people to be real, warts and all,

I cannot abide the superficial and the glib

the polished and 'perfect'.

So, why am I hiding behind Felicity

and pretending to live in a tiny village called Little Bunting

when my real name is ******

and I live in the tiny village of ******?

It all comes down to the reasons why I write a blog,

I do it because I enjoy it, a form of online diary

notes of things which are happening in my life.

I have family living far away,

who like to see the photographs

and catch up on events back home.

Ditto, friends.

All my previous blogs (and I have had a few) have been on the same lines

foolishly, I used my real name, etc.

Several years down the line,

blog scrapers came along and copied hundreds of my posts

and 

re-posted them on their own fake blogs,

for whatever purpose.

I went through a protracted process of getting many of them taken down,

but Blogger seems less than enthusiastic about helping.

Eventually,

I abandoned my old blogs, put all my posts back into draft form,

so that I can still look back on them

after all,

 they still read back to me like a diary

of my life.

I was furious with the blog scrapers, vowed never to blog again...

Time passed and I found I missed the process.

I came up with the idea of using a different name,

for everyone and everything

and that is how it goes,

it makes me feel a little protected (an illusion, of course!).

So, what happens as I get even older

and, perhaps, begin to get confused...?

Will there come a point in my life where I call my husband 'Max' instead of ******?

The grandchildren by their new names of Hector and Merry?

Even the cats, the dog, the horse have fake names...

though I did draw the line at re-naming the six hens!

People could think I am going slightly mad, whereas I would simply be using their 

bloggy monikers - is that the same thing?

Oh dear, the complications!

Right, I'm heading off to feed ******   I mean Benedict...

fliss&max/******/******

xxx

Rainy Day Baking and Little Gems

Today began with heavy rain so the dog and I got drenched - but I am very happy about that.

Ever since Dobson came to live with us he has shown a marked reluctance to venture anywhere in the rain, even if he is desperate, he would rather cross his legs and wait until it stops raining.   I have never forced him out in the rain, but I have tried to encourage him, with little success.  

So I was delighted that today he agreed to come out into the pouring rain, for a morning walk.    He actually enjoyed it!   He didn't melt away and he found that smells are just as good in the rain.   Success after two and a half years of gentle persuasion.

Just as well I'm patient.

This handsome boy, Benedict, on the other hand, can usually be found standing out in the rain.   For some strange reason he seems to really enjoy it.     He has a shelter, he just won't use it.


The rain dried up but the day continued to be damp, gloomy, windy.    Our internet connection goes crazy on days like this (the overhead cables run through woodland trees and they need trimming) so the connection drifted in and out.   I gave up trying to read, or respond to, email, etc.

Instead, I made a cup of tea and browsed my recipe books instead.    

Christmas cake is what I wanted to get started, they always improve with keeping and steeping in alcohol.     I also like to soak the fruit in alcohol for a couple of days before mixing and baking and each year I try a different recipe.

This bowl is HUGE, there is something like 5lbs of fruit soaking in it!

I finally plumped for a recipe from my mother's old handwritten recipe book.  

Oddly enough, I have never noticed this one before, but part of the appeal was that the quantities are enough for a 9 inch cake, plus a 6 inch cake.   Perfect!    I always make two cakes, one for Max and the family and another for my younger brother, The Writer.

The recipe book was originally a diary and the first few pages still contain entries from January 1st 1962.    My mothers handwriting quickly transported me back to my 8 year old self, when we were living in Hong Kong.

The entry for 4th January 1962 reads "Jimmy Wong came round this afternoon.   Harry bought me a beautiful firestone and gold ring and I bought the matching earrings."

Here they are.  

I inherited them when my mother died, twenty years ago.    I am not a great one for jewellery, but I do enjoy wearing the pieces which my mother left me and these 'firestones' are truly beautiful.

In morning light they appear a pale blue, then as the day progresses they gradually darken and change to violet and on until they become a rich red wine colour.  Magical!

Jimmy Wong was a Chinese man who used to call around once a month.   He would bring a huge assortment of ready made jewellery and loose stones.    His smooth sales patter often tempted my mother into purchasing something!     One could ask for any stone, any setting or arrangement and a week or two later it would be delivered for inspection.  

So my mother was very much to the forefront of my mind as I set about weighing the fruit, halving cherries, etc.  

She was a wonderful cook, nothing fazed her and everything turned out tasting delicious.    Her big flaw was that she used almost every pot and pan in the house while she cooked.  The kitchen would always look like a bomb had hit it.

I work very tidily and I am a rubbish cook.   Any successes which I have are purely accidental and therefore unrepeatable!   I have a nice, tidy kitchen though.   ;-)

fliss&max

Time Travelling with Oscar

Image borrowed from bucksfreedompress.blogspot

Our very elderly neighbour, Oscar was on the village hall committee

and, locked away in his writing bureau, is a dull and tatty-looking blue notebook.

Did I say dull?    Absolutely not!  It is a priceless gem, packed full of village history.

Oscar read aloud from the notebook,  the minutes of the Little Bunting Village Hall Committee meetings  from long ago.

Back then it was a lively and well supported village hall which hosted bingo nights, scrabble games, jumble sales, dances, plays and pantomimes, trips were taken on coaches,  harvest suppers, quizzes, film nights, cricket was played on the village green* and there was the annual Gala, at which a Gala Queen would be chosen.

Oscar read out that the fireworks for the annual display cost the princely sum of £5.00 and we both had a laugh about that, I don't buy fireworks, but I doubt you would get much more than a packet or two of sparklers for that amount, these days.

His notes give the name of the woman who made toffee, another who provided hot dogs and the woman who made soup for everyone.   I can't remember all the details of the costings, but I know the soup-maker charged 99p for the 70 servings.

Image borrowed from telegraph.co.uk

I particularly loved the accounts of cricket on the village green, with a beautiful tea of cucumber, ham or salmon sandwiches with scones and cakes provided for tea.    .   

Wonderful stuff!    Is there anything more evocative of rural England than cricket on the village green?   Chaps in cricket whites and women in pretty frocks serving tea, the heat of a summer afternoon, the smell of grass, friends and rivals come together...

These days our large village green is occasionally mowed and rarely used.   There has been debate and argument on how the ground could be used by the community.   Some wanted it to be a playground for the village children but this was fiercely opposed by some people who thought it would be too noisy for them.  Others wanted the ground to be turned into allotments...

To the best of my knowledge, nothing has been done about it so far.

*If you click on this link it will take you to a map which I drew of Little Bunting.     It shows the location of the village green, hidden away, difficult to find.


So, Oscar and I whiled away an hour or two going down memory lane for him.   I think he enjoyed it almost as much as I did.     Armchair time-travel in wonderful company.


There was a reason that I spent so this time with Oscar, this morning he became a little upset over some work which has to be done to make some outbuildings, which back onto the public road, safe.  He was overwhelmed by the builder/demolition man's chat and didn't understand what was to happen.

So he rang Max.

Unfortunately, Max had a meeting which he couldn't avoid, so I said I would go along and talk to the builder and try to sort things out.     There wasn't really a problem, it was more a case of the builder not fully understanding just how difficult it can be for older people to deal with things like this.

It was quickly sorted and I managed to get Oscar to sit down, have a cup of tea and relax, which is how he got reminiscing, much to my joy.

I know that some of you have been concerned about Oscar, so let me reassure you that Max and I have had a good chat with his family, who are fully committed to doing their best for him.    They totally understand our concerns and we have jointly formulated a plan to help Oscar.

Caring for Neighbours

An old man collapsed on his kitchen floor, falling heavily and banging his head on the corner of the kitchen table.   Luckily, he always wears an alarm-call around his neck and was able to press the button, although unable to crawl across the floor to the telephone to tell them what had occurred.

This set a procedure in motion and a 'First Responder' was quickly despatched to check up on him.   An ambulance was called and he was taken to hospital, not the local one, for they were concerned about his head wound, etc. and there are more facilities at the larger District hospital.

The woman who comes in a couple of times a week to do the housekeeping and cleaning ensured that the house was kept warm, locked, safe, while a lovely man from the village made sure that the old horse was watered, fed, and mucked out the stable.

What had been forgotten in all the hoo-ha was that a delivery of frozen meals was due.    Upon finding that he couldn't get any response and being unable to gain entry to the house, despite the fact that the car was parked in the yard the delivery man telephoned the police to alert them that there was potentially a problem.

The boys in blue, or more likely, PCSO's were quickly on the scene and tried to gain access.   They were spotted by the housekeeper who got there in time to stop them from causing too much damage to the woodwork.  She explained who she was, what had happened and opened the door.

Image borrowed from - Domesticallyinclined2.blogspot.com

The local handyman was called, minor repairs made.   The police wrote a note explaining the circumstances of the damage.

After a couple of days in hospital the old man was allowed home.   Of course he had no car and at very nearly 100 years of age is not fit to be driving anyway.  

Brrrrng-brrrrrrrrrrrrng!    'Hello, Max?    I'm in hospital, can you pick me up?'

Two hours later,  Max delivers the old man home.    He put on all the lights, helped the old man into a chair and then checked through the contents of the fridge and cupboards and began to draw curtains and blinds, made sure that the man's medication was to hand.

There was a soft click of the outside door and in came the housekeeper.   She'd spotted the lights blazing and realised that the old man must be back.    Max left him to her competent care.

This morning we called in to check on the old man.   He is so white, frail, shaken.   Not surpising, but it is such a shame.    He has soldiered on for so long and now I fear he is unravelling.    Just lately he has had several falls and wobbly episodes.

The community is doing its best for him, we are all very fond of him.   However,  our combined efforts are are like a roughly cobbled together patchwork quilt and he needs so much more.    

(borrowed from Family Based Care)

Cowslip Cottage

This morning I felt well enough to take a walk along the lane to visit this old chap, Benedict, for the first time in almost three weeks.       He was initially a little grumpy, I think you can see that from the photograph, but once he realised that my pockets were stuffed with carrots and apple he decided to forgive me, especially when I also managed to find a couple of old polo mints.   He was delighted to have some company and spent ages gently nibbling on my fingers and telling me that perhaps I wasn't so bad after all.   I told him how much I love him.

His owner, Oscar (aged very late 90's) was pottering around his garden.   He hasn't been well and these days he has to support himself on two sticks, when outside, and uses a wheeled walker indoors.   Despite all his health problems, Oscar keeps soldiering on.  

Calling in to see Benedict allows me to keep an eye on Oscar without appearing to do so, I hope.

As the day was fine, we went down to your cottage, Max had some more measurements to take and I wanted to try to get the lawns mowed before the weather turns.  

I mowed this lawn, then Max strimmed the edges, while I mowed the other lawn.   It looks nice and neat again.   We also weeded the front garden and swept all the hay out of the parking space, those hay wagons shed a huge amount, I think we filled two and a half sacks, it will all go into the compost heap.

This is the view from the back garden gate, the cattle are still out, just not in shot.

Poppy, this one is for you!   One brave poppy flower still blooming in the rockery area today.   I had to photograph it for you, what a shame I didn't have the macro lens with me.

On the way home we called in at the fruit farm and picked a couple of large bags of pears, they make superb juice, but taste just as nice as a fruit.

fliss&max
xxx

"You're Fired!" and 'Digging for England'.

They were hired to keep our home free from rodents.

They have failed.

They're fired!





Between them, and the electronic rodent repeller, we haven't had a rodent in the house for years,   which is why it was so shocking that as I rummaged for some cleaning cloths, a large brown mouse jumped out of the box and ran over my hand to disappear into the dark space between the Rayburn and the saucepan cupboard.

These two snoozed on, unaware.

Their attitude seems to be that they deal with the vermin outside, anything indoors is for me.

I'll cut their rations if they don't deal with the problem soon.

Meanwhile, humane mouse traps have been set.   Mousey could find himself going on holiday.

Max, under the watchful eye of Dobson, has been digging up the old fruit garden.   Nasty, spiteful, gooseberry bushes and assorted spikey things have been dug up and rehomed.  

The area will be returned to grass and we'll be planting another apple tree, along with a plum tree.

The rhubarb will be left in situ, it thrives there, probably because of the septic tank, although we won't talk about that one!



Meanwhile, over at The Old Parsonage, the attic bedrooms have been invaded by a swarm of hornets.  Pest control have been called to deal with it and the top floor has been sealed off.     Perhaps one little mouse in the kitchen isn't so bad after all.

flissandmax
xxx

Misunderstandings...

The warning signs were there and I ignored them.  

I'll start at the beginning, we met on a blind date, a meal out with some mutual friends -  Steve and Rhona, we have a lot to blame thank you for.

On one of our early outings, we took our much younger brothers to a funfair.    Max won a prize at some stall or other and was told that he could   "Choose any prize you like, between the yellow light and the green light".

Max replied "I'll have the yellow one, please."

The stallholder thought he was taking the mickey and the rest of us were no use, we were curled up in laughter.     Max had misheard.   I found it funny and endearing.

The humour wears off when it happens on an almost daily basis, the laughter becomes forced.   We can have whole discussions, get things clear, and then still find out that my black is his white.

It improved a little when he got hearing aids, a few years ago.


Yesterday evening,  I was down at the far end of the house,  flicking through a book.   I could hear the owls hunting; the windows were open and they almost sounded as though they were in the room with me, so loud and clear was the sound.

Max came into the room and I told him that there was a lot of owl activity in the garden.

Max "I wonder why?  It's a Bank Holiday Monday tomorrow".

Silence.

Then I hooted with laughter, probably scaring the owls off.    He thought I was talking about cars driving along the lane.

(I know, it loses in translation.)

Our whole life together has been filled with these surreal conversations.  Some are downright dangerous, some are frustrating, this one really got me laughing.  Only Max!

Sleepy Sundays

Coco is sleeping like a sweet little innocent.   She spent last night outside (her choice) hunting.   When I opened the door this morning I was greeted with a stained and bloody doorstep and her haul for the night...a teenage rat, a large mouse, and some tiny headless creature.    She strolled in, ate a hearty breakfast and flaked out on the sofa.

I took Dobson through the small gate to the barley field - his first experience of it this year.   He trotted out there very happily, romped through the field, happily sniffing and chasing his ball.

He was happy, until we reached a certain corner of the field - it backs onto the old school playing field - and then he began to growl, tail between his legs, refusing to move forward.    I tried to cajole him into moving, but he wouldn't.   Eventually I clipped his lead on and ran him away from there, making a game of it and he settled down.

Our walk continued, peacefully, happily.   His nose got a workout and so did his legs.  All seemed well with the world.  We turned the final corner and home came into sight, that was it then.   He scooted, ran for all he was worth, not looking back, until he reached the safety of the small garden gate.

To his credit, he did stay and watch to make sure that I got home safely...

Now he is safely snoozing in his bed, under my work table.   Poor lad, I'll never know what happened to him in the two years before we got him, all I can try to do is build up his confidence, bit by bit.

Poppy, I thought you may like to see Max and Merry, they are sitting right next to me...

Merry is watching 'The Gruffalo's Child', Max is snoozing.
fliss&max
xxx

Poppy and Miles in Shanghai

Happiness!  Miles is back in Shanghai, home with Poppy

after spending a month here, working on Cowslip Cottage.

It is still a work in progress,

but will become their home in the future.

I know that Miles enjoyed my food while he was home, 

but I also know that

 he is extremely happy to be eating food cooked by Poppy!

She is a marvellous cook.

Take your eyes off that beef, Boy!

*  *  *

Now that Miles is back in China

the nest is empty again.

I don't have any problem with that,

although 

I know many parents suffer dreadfully

from 'empty nest syndrome'.

All I have ever wanted for my children

is that they should be happy and healthy

so

now they are all happily married

and living their own lives,

I couldn't be happier.

I can indulge myself in all my hobbies and interests.

I have time to read, to sew, dabble with a variety of crafts,

visit the old churches and buildings, which I love so much

and,

I don't have to cook so many meals!

Yippeeeeeeeeeee!

This is what Max and I ate yesterday evening.

I made a large jug of custard, thick and unctuous

and we indulged in

wild plum and windfall apple crumble.

No starter, no main course,

just crumble and custard.

We were happy little piglets!

My worktable has become own again,

it is covered with fabrics

as I play around with making a patchwork quilt for young Merry.

fliss&max