My ancient (and sometimes controversial) dark red dictionary defines eccentric as 'deviating from the centre, departing from the usual practice'. A recent programme by Victoria C.M. on eccentricity enforced this idea, with examples through recent times to illustrate the point. An eccentric is someone who goes against the norm, rails against the establishment, a goat amongst sheep.
When I was growing up (back when Noah was a lad), most people lived in rented accommodation; it was unusual for women to have a full time job; the only parts of a body to be pierced were ears (and that was considered a bit common) and tattoos only sported by sailors. Vegetarianism was ridiculed and allotments were for old men in baggy hats.
Now it seems everyone aspires to a mortgage and their own patch of land on which to grow their healthy, heritage variety, organic fruit and veg. Piercings can be had almost anywhere one might want and tattoos are so common that fake ones (like long gloves) can be used just for the week-end. No-one need feel excluded.
So what now defines an eccentric?
Could it be a stay-at-home parent, with unadorned skin who does not enjoy reality television? Someone who enjoys cooking but has no desire to enter 'Bake Off'
and travels happily on public transport with no regrets for the lack of an expensive car to maintain?
I was reading an article today about 60 plus's, the largest growing social group who have more money and more time to enjoy it, doing things they always wanted to do without fear of censure.
Perhaps these are the new eccentrics.
Saturday, 21 November 2015
Thursday, 16 July 2015
There is nothing more evocative than a tantalizing, almost ephemeral scent of......something. A place, a time flits across the inner eye and we are a younger version of our present self.
The privet is just coming in to flower, its ice cream coloured, Christmas tree sprays of trumpet-shaped blooms filling the air with memories. When I was growing up, every terraced house was fronted with a low wall topped with railings, behind which unruly hedges of hardy privet bullied their way towards the pavement. Hedge shears were borrowed between neighbours, but not often. It was a job done reluctantly at the end of the summer holidays, sometimes for bob-a-job week. It was scary, struggling to wield the stiff, sometimes blunt over-sized scissors, balancing between the bay window, the airy (the barred, gaping hole over the cellar) and the sturdy hedge. Then, trimming achieved, there was still the tidying up, brushing the bits in to a bucket before being emptied in to the dust bin which lived in the back yard. Several journeys had to be made, back and forth round the houses and along the entry to the back gate, wedged ajar with the metal bin and its clanging lid.
The entry was a playground in itself. A narrow, straight space to practise roller-skating, arms spread out to touch blackened walls, desperate to stay upright (I failed - any kind of skating seemed beyond me). Its deep doorways were common hiding places in hide-and-seek as they were often draped with trailing ivy, sometimes crawling with thick, dark, hairy caterpillars. An absence of grown-ups in this 'behind' space, meant it was ideal as a race track. One friend had a faded pink pedal-car, so of course it was adopted by all, to be used by all, all at the same time. Some pushed, some pulled, the rest climbed in and on, until little pinkness was visible. The inevitable shouting, laughter and enthusiasm usually ended in tears, arguments and scabby knees.
Do children today still compare scabby knees in the playground? Do dark hairy caterpillars still inhabit curtains of ivy? There are lots of black and yellow stripy ones eating their way through my nasturtiums
and a huge black and yellow dragonfly spent two days zooming round the garden.
Little privet though and no bob-a-job. Hedges are now mostly beech, escallonia, leylandii, berberis and tidied regularly by adults with electric machines. No longer scary.
Sign of the times, I guess.
ps Have discovered my caterpillars are from the boring cabbage white butterfly and I suspect the dragonfly is similarly common - but who cares.
This bee was found on the ground - might be sleeping, maybe dead?
The privet is just coming in to flower, its ice cream coloured, Christmas tree sprays of trumpet-shaped blooms filling the air with memories. When I was growing up, every terraced house was fronted with a low wall topped with railings, behind which unruly hedges of hardy privet bullied their way towards the pavement. Hedge shears were borrowed between neighbours, but not often. It was a job done reluctantly at the end of the summer holidays, sometimes for bob-a-job week. It was scary, struggling to wield the stiff, sometimes blunt over-sized scissors, balancing between the bay window, the airy (the barred, gaping hole over the cellar) and the sturdy hedge. Then, trimming achieved, there was still the tidying up, brushing the bits in to a bucket before being emptied in to the dust bin which lived in the back yard. Several journeys had to be made, back and forth round the houses and along the entry to the back gate, wedged ajar with the metal bin and its clanging lid.
The entry was a playground in itself. A narrow, straight space to practise roller-skating, arms spread out to touch blackened walls, desperate to stay upright (I failed - any kind of skating seemed beyond me). Its deep doorways were common hiding places in hide-and-seek as they were often draped with trailing ivy, sometimes crawling with thick, dark, hairy caterpillars. An absence of grown-ups in this 'behind' space, meant it was ideal as a race track. One friend had a faded pink pedal-car, so of course it was adopted by all, to be used by all, all at the same time. Some pushed, some pulled, the rest climbed in and on, until little pinkness was visible. The inevitable shouting, laughter and enthusiasm usually ended in tears, arguments and scabby knees.
Do children today still compare scabby knees in the playground? Do dark hairy caterpillars still inhabit curtains of ivy? There are lots of black and yellow stripy ones eating their way through my nasturtiums
and a huge black and yellow dragonfly spent two days zooming round the garden.
Little privet though and no bob-a-job. Hedges are now mostly beech, escallonia, leylandii, berberis and tidied regularly by adults with electric machines. No longer scary.
Sign of the times, I guess.
ps Have discovered my caterpillars are from the boring cabbage white butterfly and I suspect the dragonfly is similarly common - but who cares.
This bee was found on the ground - might be sleeping, maybe dead?
Or perhaps it just fell out of the hive.
Saturday, 28 February 2015
echoes past
You know when something goes round and round your mind and you can not shake it off? Like a tune, or a conversation (usually one that ended badly and needs a better conclusion)? Well, odd phrases, quotes, comments typical of those I have known have been buzzing around my head for some time now.
Example - The wreck of the Hesperus (as in 'you look like...').
Sans hair, sans eyes, sans teeth. (I thought maybe this was some mangled French from the war years, but no....)
In eighteen hundred and forty one, the American railway was begun... (something we sang as a family, but no idea when this great enterprise started.)
De loo (as in de luxe, describing those very thin, disc-like mint imperials, not the lavatory..)
One go, two stop, three full up. (Now who admits to being old enough to recognise this reference?)
My well-read offspring have provided some answers, tinternet others.
The wreck is a quote from Longfellow.
Sans hair etc is also a quote, Shakespeare, of course. As You Like It, the 'All the world's a stage...' speech.
The song about the railway was a folk song recorded some time between 1938 and 1942.
I realize now my parents were both well read and up to date with sing-a-long songs. I would be hard put to recognise any current songs and the only bit of poetry I remember from school is -
Macavity's a mystery cat,
He' called the Hidden Paw
For he's the master criminal who can defy the law.
He..... (and I've forgotten the rest).
I had also forgotten that it is by T. S. Elliot (offspring to the rescue again).
They say education is not what it used to be, but perhaps it is, now. It just missed a generation (mine) and left it the poorer.
Oh, and the last one is bus bells!
Example - The wreck of the Hesperus (as in 'you look like...').
Sans hair, sans eyes, sans teeth. (I thought maybe this was some mangled French from the war years, but no....)
In eighteen hundred and forty one, the American railway was begun... (something we sang as a family, but no idea when this great enterprise started.)
De loo (as in de luxe, describing those very thin, disc-like mint imperials, not the lavatory..)
One go, two stop, three full up. (Now who admits to being old enough to recognise this reference?)
My well-read offspring have provided some answers, tinternet others.
The wreck is a quote from Longfellow.
Sans hair etc is also a quote, Shakespeare, of course. As You Like It, the 'All the world's a stage...' speech.
The song about the railway was a folk song recorded some time between 1938 and 1942.
I realize now my parents were both well read and up to date with sing-a-long songs. I would be hard put to recognise any current songs and the only bit of poetry I remember from school is -
Macavity's a mystery cat,
He' called the Hidden Paw
For he's the master criminal who can defy the law.
He..... (and I've forgotten the rest).
I had also forgotten that it is by T. S. Elliot (offspring to the rescue again).
They say education is not what it used to be, but perhaps it is, now. It just missed a generation (mine) and left it the poorer.
Oh, and the last one is bus bells!
Saturday, 3 January 2015
turning of the year...
New year, new diary so all the important info has to be transferred - birthdays, anniversaries, dental appointments.......... But it is also an opportunity to relive the notes made of the outside world. When plants began to grow, bear fruit then die back. When various wildlife visited the garden and what the weather was like. I am tempted to say this past year was unusual but only because we seemed to have the right weather for the time of year. Wet, bright spring, windy in March ('in like a lion...'). Mild, then a warm summer. Autumn that almost forgot to happen until late October when the colours were glorious and the fungi amazing. Then snow, not Christmas, but Boxing Day, when everyone was leaving after a fun, family day.
The daffodils are springing up around the garden and the honeysuckle has buds - there will be a few more frosts before spring pushes winter out of the way, but in the meantime, here are some reminders of autumn.
(these are butterflies, not fungi!)
And when we got home, I found these (earthstars, I think) sprouting up under the salvias......
(made me think of cabbagepatch kids, remember those....?)
The daffodils are springing up around the garden and the honeysuckle has buds - there will be a few more frosts before spring pushes winter out of the way, but in the meantime, here are some reminders of autumn.
(these are butterflies, not fungi!)Saturday, 18 October 2014
Autumnal days away
There are those who seek novelty, wonder why anyone would want to visit an area more than once - or twice, maybe.
Not me.
We have made many visits to this part of the world and each time find something new to do, to see, tips to improve the trip.
The Lake district is blessed with a very good bus service so if you have an English travel pass, bring it. If not, investigate the Explorer tickets which give unlimited travel for a day, or three days, or even a week. There is even a concessionary rate on the day explorer ticket. This is worthwhile if one is only doing the return journey from Penrith to Keswick. Travelling on public transport means no petrol costs, no parking fees, no car stress. The upstairs on the scenic routes are full of retired walking groups (to the mutterings of locals) and the rush for the front seats is reminiscent of school outings and the scrum for the back seats. When coaches meet in narrow lanes, over sharply turning bridges, it is soothing to know this is some-one else's problem. Time is less relevant, passengers more likely to chat to a neighbour. And the scenery is.... well, just fabulous. The colours, the light, (the silence shattered by low flying aircraft) the sheer majesty of it all. That over-used word, awesome.
One day we went to Ambleside (bus to Keswick, then another to Ambleside). My recollection from last time was the nightmare of trying to park.This time I noticed the architecture, the individuality of the shops and eateries. We found the ferry terminal was quite close so took a trip to Bowness and back, picking up ideas for our next trip here (Wray Castle, a walk along the lakeside).
There was a very county day out at Acorn Bank, celebrating Apple day with a surprise certificate for chutney.
Even home base has its surprises. An evening walk resulted in an hours serious study of the fungi book. Five different types, in just twenty minutes.
Despite forecasts of rain, we have not had to use the umbrella yet. Beautiful sunrises cloaked in mist, evenings drifting pinkly in to night and cool, bright, autumn days.
Who needs airports?
Not me.
We have made many visits to this part of the world and each time find something new to do, to see, tips to improve the trip.
The Lake district is blessed with a very good bus service so if you have an English travel pass, bring it. If not, investigate the Explorer tickets which give unlimited travel for a day, or three days, or even a week. There is even a concessionary rate on the day explorer ticket. This is worthwhile if one is only doing the return journey from Penrith to Keswick. Travelling on public transport means no petrol costs, no parking fees, no car stress. The upstairs on the scenic routes are full of retired walking groups (to the mutterings of locals) and the rush for the front seats is reminiscent of school outings and the scrum for the back seats. When coaches meet in narrow lanes, over sharply turning bridges, it is soothing to know this is some-one else's problem. Time is less relevant, passengers more likely to chat to a neighbour. And the scenery is.... well, just fabulous. The colours, the light, (the silence shattered by low flying aircraft) the sheer majesty of it all. That over-used word, awesome.
One day we went to Ambleside (bus to Keswick, then another to Ambleside). My recollection from last time was the nightmare of trying to park.This time I noticed the architecture, the individuality of the shops and eateries. We found the ferry terminal was quite close so took a trip to Bowness and back, picking up ideas for our next trip here (Wray Castle, a walk along the lakeside).
There was a very county day out at Acorn Bank, celebrating Apple day with a surprise certificate for chutney.
Even home base has its surprises. An evening walk resulted in an hours serious study of the fungi book. Five different types, in just twenty minutes.
Despite forecasts of rain, we have not had to use the umbrella yet. Beautiful sunrises cloaked in mist, evenings drifting pinkly in to night and cool, bright, autumn days.
Who needs airports?
Monday, 4 August 2014
poppy petals, red ....
A century ago, an enveloping sadness spread across much of the world, touching generations, neighbourhoods, affecting life as it is lived today. What started that day (this day, today) in summer, is being commemorated in many ways around the country, 'lest we forget'.
Last week the Giants came to Liverpool and we were lucky enough to see them on the Sunday.
Amazing, all of it.
The parade began with Xolo, the very lifelike black dog.
Then a parade of the Liverpool Pals, dressed in their best, proudly marching to do their bit. I was told that Liverpool were the first Pals to form and the last to be stood down at the end of the War.
This was followed by a Scots marching band and the recruiting wagon.
There were large drums, (representing the gunfire), a large number of people dressed in black (mourners) and a cannon which showered the crowd with recruitment posters.
The Giants themselves ( the little girl and the Grandma) were a mechanical work of art and the Lilliputians who worked them, athletic and enthusiastic.
And Grandma's wheelchair is an indicator of scale!
Last week the Giants came to Liverpool and we were lucky enough to see them on the Sunday.
Amazing, all of it.
The parade began with Xolo, the very lifelike black dog.
Then a parade of the Liverpool Pals, dressed in their best, proudly marching to do their bit. I was told that Liverpool were the first Pals to form and the last to be stood down at the end of the War.
This was followed by a Scots marching band and the recruiting wagon.
There were large drums, (representing the gunfire), a large number of people dressed in black (mourners) and a cannon which showered the crowd with recruitment posters.
The Giants themselves ( the little girl and the Grandma) were a mechanical work of art and the Lilliputians who worked them, athletic and enthusiastic.
And Grandma's wheelchair is an indicator of scale!
A dramatic and moving piece of street art - and the sun shone. What could be better?
Wednesday, 25 June 2014
We all have our safe places, somewhere to feel snug, protected from the outside world, where nothing changes. Our personal space, our rut.
My cooking gets like that, not quite 'it's Wednesday so it must be mince' but close. So it is good to be challenged, inspired, make changes.
Two new recipes, then, one sweet, one savoury.
Have you discovered beetroot and apple? Not a spot of vinegar in sight, the ready cooked beets in a bag are fine for this and makes for minimal pink splashes. Equal quantities, grated, are good with any salad or cold meat. Then talking and mulling and muttering out loud resulted in the A.B.C. cake. Yummy, yummy. An adaption of a plain chocolate cake (recipe on a free leaflet from a high street chocolate shop eons ago, when such things were rare) with the addition of said beetroot and apple. Looks nothing, tastes good.
Savoury recipe was a bit obvious, really, but it can help if someone else in your kitchen suggests combinations. Pear + Walnut tart with a subtle blue cheese. Great because you can use what is in the fridge, pastry takes no time to do and a mini one is handy for a packed lunch. Any left-over egg/cream can go in to scrambled egg.
A.B.C. Cake.
Cream 4oz caster sugar with 2oz soft margarine or butter until fluffy. Add 1 egg and beat in well. Sieve 1 1/2oz cocoa and 3oz self-raising flour and fold gently in to the mix. Grate 1 apple (peeled) and 1 beetroot and mix together. Add 1 - 2 tablespoons of this to the cake mix. (It needs to slacken the mix, think similar consistency of normal cake mix.)
Transfer to lined 1lb loaf tin. Dot with a few chocolate drops, if liked.
Bake at gas no. 4 for 30 mins. (Aga, on tray, bottom of top oven with solid tray above. Check and turn after 15mins.)
Times are approximate, as all ovens vary and it is a long time since I baked with a conventional cooker.
Enjoy!
Pear and Walnut Tart with Blue Cheese
Hardly a recipe at all.
Line a foil pie dish or flan ring with pastry - I use shortcrust. If you are happier blind-baking it, then do so.
Peel, core and small dice enough pears for dish.
Mix enough egg/cream in a jug to fill dish. 1 egg to about 2-3 fl oz single cream (some milk could be used) is about the right balance.
Chop some walnuts, not too fine.
Cut some soft blue cheese (I like Cambazola) in to small cubes.
Then fill the tart. Pear chunks, then cheese chunks, fill with eggy mix (not too full or it will slosh about and burn in the oven), then top with a sprinkle of walnuts, to taste.
A bit of white pepper on the top works.
If you have a odd spring onion in the salad box, a bit of this could go in the base of the tart.
Bake until done - as you normally would a tart of this kind. In the Aga, it is second shelf up, top oven for ten minutes and keep an eye on it, turning the tray if doing lots of small ones.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)