“Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us.”
Says Miss Prism in The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde
My father-in-law is writing his memoirs and I can’t wait to read them!
“How do you remember all the places and names and details?” I asked him.
“You’d be surprised what comes to mind when you start digging around in the past. You open a drawer, look through a photo album, talk to an old friend, read a letter…” he replied.
Now I know what he means. Continue reading Memories
“We might treat a rabbit as a pet or become emotionally attached to a goose, but we had come from cities and supermarkets, where flesh was hygienically distanced from any resemblance to living creatures. A shrink-wrapped pork chop has a sanitised, abstract appearance that has nothing whatsoever to do with the warm, mucky bulk of a pig. Out here in the country there is no avoiding the direct link between death and dinner…”
A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle
I am a ‘wannabe’ foodie, but unsurprisingly making little effort to get the esteemed status. There, I’ve said it. Living in a city where you can go out for three meals a day for the rest of your life and never exhaust the options, some will consider my opening admission simply disgraceful. I’m sorry 😦
Continue reading Foodie
“The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house. All that cold, cold, wet day.”
Dr Seuss, The Cat in the Hat
This house has been a hive of activity since returning from Wales.
Apart from running around three small girls and sightseeing till we’ve almost dropped, the Secret Seven have been most productive at home. My hubby and brother have trimmed the hedge; got rid of a fox mess; bought seafood at Billingsgate Market; gutted and cooked prawns, scallops and squid and made a delicious paella. They have bought a brew kit and begun brewing; put up a wooden parasol on the terrace and accomplished various other household tasks.
Continue reading Rain, puddles, splashes and rest