Socks and mince pies

Have reached the heel of the second sock and stitches are now distributed amongst the 3 needles for the heel and the rest on a holder to await the dreaded turn of the heel but I cannot seem to get round to finishing. Instead I have been knitting mini Christmas stockings, a whale toy for a cat ( I can hardly believe that I did that) and making mince pies.
 I have not made mince pies for years. My godmother made extremely pale mince pies with the shortest pastry and the booziest mince meat. I remember my first taste of sloe gin went with her mince pies many years ago. My mother always made far too many mince pies and would never have considered a pack of bought ones. Looking at the back of the fridge I found a jar of mincemeat from last year which had been opened for a spoonful and then abandoned. Discarding this one I went out to buy a new jar with a mission in mind - I would make just a few. I decided to experiment with my pastry - adding an egg and a little sugar and to use my baking tray for mini morsels as well as the more conventional size. It then occurred to me to cater for the vegetarians so I made a small batch of my own mincemeat with the last of the garden bramleys with some dried fruits and spices. The results were a surprising success - quite crisp pastry - smaller lids and full of mincemeat. We have been nibbling away at them almost constantly.

Mini Christmas stockings above the fire, mince pies in the kitchen, Christmas tree in the hallway - beginning to feel like Christmas.

Organising bookshelves

Lovely comments on Twitter last night from Alexander McCall Smith about ways to arrange bookshelves at home followed by Radio 4 Today programme picking up the topic and a variety of tweets this morning.
I once worked for an organisation where, for some inexplicable reason, I found myself involved with a variety of things including 2 libraries. Both libraries belonged to the same organisation but followed different Dewey classification systems and each had their own way of cataloguing and, well, doing everything. I do like the fact that, in a library, you can look at the catalogue and then easily find the range of books that you are looking for in the same place. Having said that, I recently spent some time in a local history library where a very helpful member of staff kept bringing me books that she thought I might be interested in but which she knew were not with the others I had been looking at.
But at  home what is the best thing to do? I have friends who follow the alphabet for fiction and then group non-fction in alphabetical themes - cooking, cricket, rugby, travel...... I used to follow the system known as - "Mum knows where everything is" - and it worked very well. Have we got a copy of "To Kill a Mocking Bird"? Yes - it is on the second shelf down to the left of the sofa, near some Garrison Keillor. Do we have any Nick Hornby? Try the small front bedroom, bottom shelf. I always knew where to find my own favourite authors - Anne Tyler, Carol Shields, E Annie Proulx, Margaret Atwood.... - hardbacks on middle shelf of first bookshelf by the door in the sitting room, paperbacks top shelf, left hand side of low shelf in my bedroom. I could usually remember where to find most things but there was no system apart from the pile of unread paperbacks either on the top of the middle bookshelf in the sitting room or in the pile steadily rising between the first and second set of shelves in the front room - those were the "to read" books.
The situation reached a point where there could have been some resolution earlier in the year when I decided to invest in 3 large new sets of bookshelves for the hall. This could mean that books could all be in one, or at most 2 places - hall and sitting room. Six large bookcases would accommodate everything in some kind of order and the shelves in bedrooms, landing, ktichen and dining room could be put to a different use. Old paperbacks could be sent along to the charity shops and everywhere would be tidy.Mmmmmm.
The new bookshelves are lovely. They were made to fit into two alcoves and they fit well. They are sturdy and attractive. There are no books that I would not want to read or re read on them. There is some semblance of order in the shelves: 2 shelves of books yet to read, one that I will and one that I should; one shelf of "amusing" books to dip into; some devoted to children's and classics; one each  on genealogy, cross stitch ( a weakness each time I go into our local Oxfam book shop), education, History and so forth. A couple of shelves of my favourties at the moment - Richard Russo and various authors writing about small town America....... and all the shelves are full.
How did that happen? How did the extra shelves become full and yet the other shelves around the house still seem to be filled with books? Even overfilled as books are still lying on top of others, rows still lie along the back of desks and still pile on top of units. I do still know where everything is but, and this is the great advantage in having bought the new shelves and done some moving around, in addition, I know now that we have a shelf of dictionaries and "word" type books which makes more sense than the old system and that most of the travel guides are in one place.
Nowadays I can also wonder who it was who bought a Russian dictionary and why we have travel guides to places I don't think any of the family have been to. I can look clearly at the number of books that I know I have still to read yet it does not stop me buying more. Will Kindles, laptops, i phones etc. stop me buying physical books? I very much doubt it. Do I have a system for my shelves? Sort of but it is still "In the mind of Mum" and it works.

Daily disasters

I can get disproportinately upset by little things going wrong. It never seems to be the elephant in the room but all the little rabbits hiding in unexpected corners. Sometimes the instant reaction is to go our and buy a new one - that tends to be for such essential items as kettles but also, for me, includes dishwashers and laptops - hence a small supply of kettles in the pantry which, actually, only needed the cable pushing in completely or some such minor thing. On other occasions, such as today, the item may not be so essential or the thing going wrong really does necessitate getting someone in.
I put the coffee machine on and came back to find the work surface flooded and the filter blocked - only one cup of coffee had filtered through and there was no more ground coffee. The coffee machine is elderly - probably nearly 20 years old but, with patience on my part and a good clean it now seems to be working again.
Pulling a bag of hen layer pellets out of the back of the car it caught on the handle for opening the back window and the end of the handle snapped off. Super glue is called for on this one and it is not urgent.
Water pouring through the kitchen ceiling around the light fitting seemed a bit of an urgent issue. Investigation suggests that it is the shower in the bathroom above the kitchen and even a small amount of water in the shower comes through the ceiling. A plumber has been called.
The thing that is really bothering me today, though, is the wool that I am currently knitting up. I love this yarn, it is beautiful cream colour and feels soft and snuggly. The first time I started to knit with it was to make a cowl for myself. It kept breaking as I was casting on but I persevered and got well into the second ball. Then I decided that I didn't really like the pattern so frogged it. What I really needed, I decided, was a hat with ear flaps. I found a pattern that I liked and started to knit. Again, into the second ball I concluded that it wasn't going to work for me and I frogged again. Third attempt with the same wool is a hooded baby jacket but, again, I am not happy
Disproportionate reaction to events is not good. Events happen, disasters happen and it is the way we react to them that causes unnecessary painful feelings. One of my favourtie sayings to myself is - everything is going to be alright, and it usually is. The coffee machine is fixed, the car and shower will be fixed and the wool saga will sort. I love that scene in Love Actually where Andrew Lincoln, having told Keira Knightly how he feels about her, says "Enough". That is such a good reminder for me. No more frustration with wool - enough.

A day of cowls

Online grocery shopping has revolutionised my life. I loathe the grind of the regular weekly shop. The basic necessities provide no attraction on shelves in overlit sheds crowded with too many people and too many trollies in too narrow aisles. That said, I do enjoy the occasional excursion to an out of town Waitrose or a French Carrefour. Even an American Wal-mart can provide an hour or so of escapism on a gloomy, preferably snowy day.
Today I was waiting in for deliveries from Asda and Ocado - both booked to arrive at roughly the same time and I used the waiting time as an excuse to work on a couple of cowls. The first one in a delightfully soft merino wool on a circular needle and the second in infuriating super chunky. I was reasonably pleased with the results and started on a second merino cowl in a slightly larger size and a second chunky - just because I have the wool, again using slightly more stitches.
The word cowl reminded me of cawl, the Welsh stew, not dissimilar to the Staffordshire lobby and, shopping having arrived, I decided to make one of my versions of  "casserole". I had a small pack of stewing beef, some leftover red wine in the freezer, lots of garlic and a selection of root vegetables. All went into the old le creuset pan and spent 3 hours in the oven on gas mark 1. Such meals always seem to taste better reheated after a few days so the casserole was decanted into containers for the fridge to await the arrival of the son on a visit in a couple of days time.

Wool stash

An undelivered parcel necessitated a visit to the sorting office which is perilously close to the nearest wool shop. I have only recently become aware of the, rather common, phenomenon of the wool "stash" and, although I am reassured to know that I am not the only one to suffer from this particular affliction, it is nonetheless an expensive and at times seemingly bizarre occupation. I think that I have always had a stash of some degree or another. The deep pink chenille must have been purchased for some project in the 1980s and the huge stock of pastel 3 ply skeins is likely to have been related to a baby but I have no recollection of who and when. I can only assume that the vivid yellow double knitting must have had some connection to ducks. It is something of a relief to know that this is a fairly common thing for knitters to do and people actually share examples of their stash contents on various websites with or without any particular projects in mind.
My current stash includes basic baby knitting wools, some rather lovely merino wools, cottons and aran weights. Colours range from pink to green with various shades of natural. Potential projects for most of the stash simply do not exist apart from possibilities limited to "baby" or "scarf". My stash expanded by 4 lots today. I did have one project in mind though; a snood or cowl as a possible Christmas present - depending on the success of the pattern. Planning must have been on my mind in the wool shop too as i actually bought some circular needles - note the plural as my planning skills did not include knowing the correct size to buy and so I bought 3. The suitable pattern was sourced on Ravelry and I began knitting this afternoon. The pattern's initial instruction not to twist the stitches did not reach my brain until about 30 rows later and necessitated some serious frogging but the current work is looking promising. The wool is soft and the pattern appealling. Knitting on circular needles is a new experience for me and does not always fit in with my limited concentration - or rather watching TV whilst knitting. I am enjoying this project. It does mean, however, that some of my stash stock has been used which surely must mean another trip to replenish stocks.

Families

Interesting that I was talking about Julie's Dad yesterday and today Julie calls to say that he is not at all well and in hospital. At 88 he is of the same generation as Beryl of the Vegas 85th birthday celebrations and I shall be thinking of him in the coming days as I will of Colin, also in hospital and also of that particular line on the family tree.
The day began with me listening to Lisa Jardine on Radio 4 talking about her family history, followed by the Archer saga of the, perhaps, long lost - or better - never known, grandson then came the telephone call about the sick uncle and, not one to believe that there are coincidences, this directed me to spend some time looking at my own family tree.
Names are quite fascinating. Apart from the infamous Enos most family names seem to be of the fairly common variety. Generation after generation on my father's side called their sons William and this tradition only died out when the last William had only a daughter - me. Taking the family trees of both myself and my husband there is a high incidence of the name Elizabeth. We both have a number of common names: Charles, Henry, Thomas and the names of our own children can be found in our forebears although we didn't know it at the time of naming them. Will the time come to revive the more obscure? Enos, I doubt but what of Jervis or Emmanuel, Ephraim or Leah? Frederick seems quite popular nowadays and Lillian but rather as Freddie and Lily - family names as well as Archer children, or rather Pargeter. I remember being quite intrigued by the name Shula many years ago, about the time she was going out with Nigel Pargeter as it happens and I wondered if I would have liked to have had a name that was rather unique. Perhaps I can draft a Change of name deed and become - what? Does a particular name have an affect on character? Is it affect or effect? Nigel Pargeter was definitely a Nigel; he could not have been a Charles. Shula is a Shula. I would have liked to have been a Caroline.

Early December events continued......

Middlest comments that my blog is actually my diary and I wonder when I last really kept a written - as in pen and paper - diary. Not so very long ago and whenever life seemed to need some comment on a day to day basis.
Back to 30 years ago - minus one day. Things do not always go according to plan - as I was saying before I went off to the dentist. What was the plan? House in Dorset sold and all belongings, furniture, clothes, plants put into store there. Husband starting new job on December 1st. A few days spent in Stoke with family awaiting birth of Julie's baby then settling into Nottingham in time for our baby? The actuality involved a new job for a day before a request for leave, a new, rather early and little baby, a slightly grumpy, still pregnant cousin and then came the snow.
30 years ago it started to snow. I remember it well. I was in a hospital I had never been to before. I turned up in labour with all my records some distance away. My baby was early. We were in a ward with a wonderful view of the surrounding area which quickly became covered in snow. There were a few "issues" - an early baby, all belongings in store in Weymouth save a few maternity clothes, no home to go to and snow.
10 days later, and still snow but Julie's Dad came to drive us back to my parents to stay for a short while whilst husband contined to look for somewhere to live in Nottingham. Still snow some weeks later but mother and new baby safely ensconced with grandparents who had been shopping for babygros and carrycots and husband camping out with a group of students in Nottingham as snow prohibiting easy travel. An easy time to remember as, in the following weeks, a war was declared over the Falklands, the snow seemed to stay for a long time on the country lane by the parents and the house hunting in Nottingham proved challenging.
All came well, as it does, by the spring and today memories are rose tinted. Shopping for new clothes was a necessity. The house removal people cared for all the house plants and they, eventually, arrived in Nottingham thriving. The baby thrived too and the house we eventually bought was owned by a midwife who, coincidentall,y was the midwife on the ward where the middlest was born 20 months and 20 days later

Birthday meals

A wonderful meal at The Mint and Mustard in Cardiff to celebrate the eldest's 30th birthday. The most delicious soft shelled crab and sea bass. I am notoriously difficult when it comes to finding places to eat. Hours could be spent on holiday wandering from restaurant to restaurant second guessing where I might be reasonably happy with the menu. Nowadays I realise that life is too short not to immediately admit that I want Indian or Italian, French or a burger and last week, knowing that we would be looking for something a little special and accessible for non meat eaters I actually booked a table on line with plenty of time to spare and got it right - an excellent choice for all concerned particularly the birthday girl. Over the years I have assembled a list of "suitable places for Dianne to eat" and now we have somewhere new to add to the Cardiff list. My mother used to tell the story of when I was about 5 years old and they were attempting to find a cafe for lunch on a day out. I "allegedly" refused to go in to every place until we reached the grandest hotel in town which I declared to be quite suitable -  discerning taste from a very early age, I like to think, or just plain fussy.

Socks update

The first sock is complete.
I searched on you tube for a video on how to finish off properly using Kitchener stitch then got widely distracted by the fact that my cousins who recently came on the trip to Vegas with me live in Kitchener, Ontario and maybe I could just go into the family tree software and ensure that all the new children had been correctly entered.
I abandoned the Kitchener stitch and actually followed the pattern which was not so specific in its finishing off instructions. It was then that I realised that I had not followed the pattern - again - when I had been shaping the toes. I had, at least, got the shaping in the correct place on the sock but I had not followed the pattern of decreasing properly. Nonetheless the sock fits well and feels comfortable. I think Jess will like it. The decison now to be made is whether to make a matching sock or a correct sock? In the meantime I have a couple of discrepancies in a family line which can easily be sorted and that is going to take priority.
My thoughts are all over the place today and I am putting that down to a trip to the dentist, an impending birthday, plans for the weekend, socks, an intention not to knit any more chicken egg cozies for a while and day 2 of a calorie counting diet - some hope.

30 years ago

It has to be a pretty significant event for me to remember exactly where I was 30 days ago let alone 30 years ago. On November 30th 1981 I was in Stoke on Trent. My husband was due to start a new job in Nottingham on December 1st, all our belongings were in store in Dorset and our first baby was due in about a month's time. My cousin's baby was due any day and I was pleased to be near her in readiness for the event. Our plan was to spend the following day Christmas shopping in Hanley in the hope that her baby would make an appearance sooner rather than later. Things did not go exactly to plan.

Socks - the pesky knit 2 rows

This time I decided to try patience - a good one for me to practise. I knitted in rib for 3 cm paying particular attention each time I swopped needles to make sure that I was not leaving a hole. I continued with this new patient, careful method until I reached the heel. I read the instructions - I feel the need to repeat that - I read the instructions and even looked at the diagrams and actually mastered the art of the "double stitch". All was going well - until the "k 2 rows across all stitches". To begin with I was on a purl row and secondly, or rather because I was on a purl row, I was going in the wrong direction. So I frogged back and then did the knit 2 rows, twice as it said. I then contined turning the heel with my new found skill of the double stitch but it was rather difficult to see how it would turn out until I had done a few more rows. It is not right. The pesky knit 2 rows does not seem to belong there. The heel itself, with the double stitches, looks lovely but there is this line of (orange - I am knitting stripes) knitting which does not fit in. Can I bear to frog again? I think that, this time, I am going to continue and see if I can, at least, get the toe the right way round. Jessica will still wear this sock around the house and it is still a learning experience for me. I know that I am making improvements and so, for today, I will acknowledge that this is the best that I can do and I will turn on the BBC listen again and groan at Pat Archer.

Nearly December and apples

The bramley apple tree in the garden was severely pruned a couple of years ago and branches were found to be rotten to the core. I didn't really expect much of the remains of the tree after that but it has contined to produce wonderful cooking apples and this year seems to have a bumper crop. Even though it is December in a couple of days there are still apples on the tree and plentiful windfalls since the stormy nights of last week. Stewed apples freeze well as do apple crumbles and apple cakes but yesterday's apple cakes/puddings seemed to disappear before cooling and never made the freezer. Every year I think that I will make apple chutney and I print out recipes and buy Kilner jars yet  never seem to get round to making it. My mother and mother in law made wonderful apple pies and I love pies and strudels so they will go on to the "good idea" list for this year. Perhaps it would be a good idea to set a day aside to bake rather than just do it when it occurs to me that the apples may be getting past their best. However, having set today aside to tackle the ironing pile which is still sitting in the ktichen maybe I am not the best person to make plans which I will then feel guilty about not keeping.

Return to socks

Yesterday I completed the first sock. Today I unravelled or "frogged" it completely. The rib had been a little loose, the heel just was not right and I somehow managed to complete the toe at an incorrect 90 degree angle. Jess might have worn it and, actually, it was not uncomfortable but it was not right and there was no real reason to go with something with so many errors. I have started again - the same pattern and the same wool and needles and this time I hope that it turns out better. Perhaps the time has come to ask for some help.

Knitting for Christmas

In a world of commercialism it is a good feeling to make hand made gifts for Christmas and other festive occasions. Friends who are able to purchase the more extravagant presents seem delighted with a hand stitched sampler or some good home made chocolate truffles.
This year I am knitting for small people and making small gifts for larger ones. My first jacket is complete and I have a small collection of chicken egg cozies which will fit neatly into Christmas stockings. This evening I have started knitting a small lacy bolero which is very different to the chunky knitting I have been doing this weekend. Over recent weeks I have been concentrating on similar patterns and changing to something new has proved challenging. I do like to knit whilst watching TV and, with my usual patterns, I can do that but these new, more detailed, patterns I need to concentrate a little more and, needless to say, some "frogging" has been a necessity.

The socks have taken a back seat.

Viva Las Vegas

Jet lag notwithstanding, a wonderful time in Las Vegas celebrating Beryl's 85th birthday. My first visit to Vegas and I was not sure what to expect. What I got was entertainment with sights and sounds and tastes and smells - a sensory experience, I would not say always a delight! The best thing, though, as ever, is being with family. There is that wonderful and amazing ease that comes with meeting up with family members, even distant ones, after a number of years and it feeling as if we only saw each other yesterday. Some catching up is inevitable but I love the comfort factor of family.
Over a few short days we did breakfast for $3.95 and brunch for $30. We caught buses and went shopping. We had a celebration meal at the top of the Stratosphere, Italian in the Cosmopolitan and constant supplies of Starbucks and MacDonalds. Our gambling experience was limited to penny slots and $1 poker games. We did not return US dollar millionaires but more or less broke even. Beryl loved her early morning balloon ride over the Grand Canyon and photographs show 8 content adults in the biggest theme park for adults that I have ever seen.

A recipe for Banana Bread

250g butter - melted
300g light brown sugar
4 eggs
350g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp vanilla extract
5 bananas - mashed
100g chopped walnuts

2 lined loaf tins. Oven at gas mark 3

Beat butter and sugar together. Add eggs one at a time then mix in the bananas, walnuts and vanilla.
Add the baking powder and bicarb to the flour and gently fold in to the mixture. Divide between the 2 loaf tins.
Bake for about an hour until skewer comes out clean

The bananas that went missing were returned in a slightly battered state but this recipe calls for well ripened, even battered, bananas.

A typical November day

On of those days when it never seems to be quite light. Lamps on in the house all day and fire lit by 11 in the morning. I do love having an open fire - the glow of coals, or better still, logs, is a warming focal point on a dismal day.
Socks coming along after re-working the heel. It is still not right but I am going with it and will amend the pattern for the second sock.
The hens are wallowing in mud. They had taken themselves inside by just after 4.30pm but during the day had been covering everything with the mud that engulfs their coop at this time of year. I watched as they trampled across the clear plastic which covers a run for them, managed to stand in their food and flicked more mud into their water. Collecting eggs is a dirty business - 3 today but all covered with mud. I pulled up a piece of turf from around the vegetable beds and threw it in to them earlier. It had disappeared by my next visit.
My plans for today had included making a batch of Banana Bread. Last week's online delivery had contained an excess of bananas which were looking, last night, at the right stage of ripeness for baking. Going to retrieve them today for my list of ingredients I found that all but 2 were missing. I was certain that there were 6 last night and I had intended to make 2 large loaves - 3 bananas each. A couple of phone calls later and the culprit emerged - had taken 2 to eat during the day but had made that decision twice and added 4 to the rucksack. No Banana bread baked today.
Safely wrapped up warm inside now with the curtains closed, fire blazing and supper in the oven. Knitting at my side and some easy entertainment on the TV. In less than 48 hours I will be on my way to Vegas!

Socks at bedtime - day 3

It wasn't good enough - frogged.

Turning the heel

Disaster - not in global terms but in Jessica's socks terms. I have continued with the knitting - inbetween ironing a few shirts but I cannot call the heel a success. I believe that I was going along the right lines until it came to "see diagram 5". I think I got lost at about:
"Rep rows 3 and 4 until the last double sts ( bearing in mind that I had not figured out the double stitches) have been worked together with  the outer sts of the centre third of the heel sts., see dia 5." I am still confused by this.
Then " Now k 2 rounds over all sts,. ( I think I did "all" sts and maybe it was meant to just be the heel stitiches?) and at ther same time, on 1st round pick up both parts of the doubles sts ( the ones I didn't do properly) together and k as for 1 st....."
I did have the correct number of stitches so whatever I did or didn't do didn't seme to matter but it got worse:
"After another 2 rounds work short rows with double sts., but in the opposite direction, thus from the inside out." At this point I decided that I must try to find another pattern

The wool is lovely, the colours are fun and I am sure that Jess will not mind the slight point in the heel - nor the holes.

The sock saga - day 3

How addictive can knitting socks be? This is my first pair of socks and I thought it would just be a different project to my usual, quite straightforward, baby items. I was quite wrong. I am supposed to be ironing but I am sitting here knitting this first sock. I have actually put the knitting down now with the intention of picking up the iron but have to get my thoughts down now before I can continue. I have been loving the knitting rounds on  4 needles although I do have the tell tale signs of small holes where each exchange of needle takes place that are the sign of inexperience. This morning I reached 12 cms which is going to be the length of Jessica's socks to the heel. I would have preferred exact details on the pattern for a length as a beginner sock knitter. Now comes the heel. I figured out that it would now be 3 needles and found 2 holders for the remaining stitches on needles 2 and 3 - using needles 1 and 4 for the heel. Then came the "double stitch". I read and re-read the instructions, looked at and looked at again, the diagram, attempted the stitch, tried again and again and finally made a stitch that is an estimation of what I think it is. How wonderful it would be to be able to call a Mother, Mother in law or Grandmother at this stage and ask for an explanation. On Youtube I can only find a crochet double stitch and a site where someone says that she vows to put on Youtube a demonstration of the kind of double stitch I am talking about - but she doesn't seem to have done so as yet. From her diagrams I am not doing it correctly and it is "allegedly" an example of German engineering. I have only done 4 rows in my version so I will try to make a better attempt on row 5 rather than "frog". I accept that this is my first attempt and I am learning more each day. Jess has already said that she would like the socks just to wear around the house but I shall still try to do the best I can.

Socks - end of day 2

Now named "Jessica's socks"

My first pair of socks - day two

Yesterday I purchased the following:
2 balls of Regia 4-fadig Ringel Color
1 sock pattern
1 set of 3.25mm double pointed ends needles

Today I concluded that I didn't understand the pattern at all so downloaded what I hope will be an English translation - in knitting terms, of the American pattern. I also realised that the needles I had bought were too thick so I spent an "enjoyable" hour or so sorting out the needles in my late grandmother's knitting needle bag. In there I found a large number of double pointed needles and, thank goodness, a little device for measuring such needles. I found that I had, in different lengths, some 15 needles in what seems to be the approximate correct size.
Sitting with the wool, the 2 patterns and a set of longish needles I started to cast on the 60 stitches required for the size I am attempting. This proved to be the first "issue" or "challenge" I faced. I have never done any knitting like this before and wasn't quite sure how to cast on over the needles. I was finally happy with my 15 stitches on each of the 4 needles. Then came the next challenge. I really didn't know how to proceed. Did I just knit 15 on to an existing 15 but then they would all be on the same needle? Why did I seem to have multiples of 5 needles? I then realised, what must be so obvious, that I used the 5th needle to knit on to. It only took one round of stitches for me to understand that I was using needles which were just too long and cumbersome and so I "frogged" ( a new term I have just discovered - unravelled and started again).
The second attempt at casting on was easier on the shorter needles and I began the ribbing. I was still puzzled about whether to have the new needle on top or underneath the previous one but after a while it all seemed rather more intuitive. The patterns were not specific as to exact sizing so I continued in rib for about 2 cms and then proceeded on to stocking stitch. I was bemused by the term - obviously the stitch for stockings and hence socks. It was also a revelation that, if I continued to knit then it would come out as stocking stitch without the need to do a row of knit and then one of purl - you learn something new every day if you try new things!

Having moved on to the main leg section of the first sock I must stop thinking about what on earth is going to happen when I get to the heel. It is never useful to project about what might happen in the future or to constantly worry about "what if..." I am enjoying this knitting so far and will carry on and just take it one stage at a time.
In terms of actual physical progress on day two there is not a great deal but it terms of a learning experience it is great.

Remembrance

The symbolic wearing of a poppy in remembrance of those who died for our freedom has always been a part of my life. My mother would watch the Remembrance Day service on the television every year in tears and I, who cannot stem tears in any situation, would do the same. My grandfather was a stalwart of the British legion and, having been in an ambulance blown up during the second world war, instilled in us all this belief in respec,t and I would wish to see this continue. A couple of years ago we went over to France and Belgium to visit the war cemetries where I knew that I had family members remembered. These were men I never knew - a great uncle on my mother's side and a great great uncle on my father's side, both killed in the Great War. Tyne Cot was a moving experience but that small corner of a foreign field that is Auberchicourt moved me beyond belief. Albert was the youngest of the nine brothers and sisters in my Great Grandfather's family. He died on the 27th March 1918 and is laid to rest in Northern France. I don't know if anyone before me had visited his grave. I suspect not. It was beautiful.

Contemplating socks

Having developed an addiction to www.ravelry.com I believe that I need to try knitting a pair of socks. My late mother in law used to knit socks and there is a pair of very sturdy knee length walking socks in the sock drawer. They are showing no signs of wear after a considerable number of years and are a testament to her considerable knitting skills. I remember some 30 years ago when I was knitting a Fair Isle jumper she showed me how to neatly weave in the different colours - a skill I had never been shown before and it made such a great difference. I have vague memories of her saying, when handing over the aforementioned socks, that she was never going to knit another pair and I don't think that she did. I do think that I should make an attempt at socks though - at least one. Consequently I have been investigating patterns and wools and have concluded that this is not going to be straightforward. I like the look of self-striping wools and I wonder if making baby or child size socks to begin with may be an idea. But - and there are a lot of buts. I made a trip to my, very local, craft shop and found some wool. I also found a pattern but there didn't seem to be any needles of the correct size for the wool and the pattern. I do have a large bag of needles inherited from my mother and my grandmother but nothing seems to be the correct size. Neither does there seem to be a pattern in my extensive collection of patterns from the 1950s and 1960s. How funny some of them seem now yet others are so stylish. Back to socks. The next issue is whether to use a circular needle or 2 circular needles or a set of 3 or a set of 4? Each pattern seems to suggest something different. Patterns called "easy" say things like "turn the heel in your usual way" !! I have not knitted a pair of socks before so I don't have a usual way. I want a pattern which will guide me through, row by row. I have invested in a pattern to go with the wool. I use the word " invested" as the cost of a pattern certainly seems to have increased disproprtionately since those of the 1950s and 60s that I have been looking at. Yet I am not sure that I actually understand this pattern. It all seems so vague but, as I don't seem to have the correct needles  there is little I can do about any of this. I still have the intention to knit a pair of socks and the willingness to have a go and for the moment that will have to be enough.

Baby Blankets

I like to have a knitting project that I can just throw into a bag and take along with me on a trip. The prerequisites of such a project have to be:
a that it requires only one set of needles
b that I can continue knitting whilst talking to other people
c that I do not have to remember to take a pattern with me
d there is no urgency to finish the project
e there is enough wool to keep me going throughout the trip
The ideal candidate is a baby blanket. Not a shawl which is cumbersome unless I know that I will be away for a while and have plenty of space for extra wool but a baby blanket that I know the pattern by heart and can just sit and knit anywhere, anytime.

In true form I now have a glut of baby blankets. I made one for my god daughter's daughter, Emily - a shawl and another one, a blanket, for her sister's baby. Then I seemed to have a number of trips - Cornwall produced another shawl and recent visits to children have resulted in 2 more blankets without a baby to attach them to. They can stay "in stock" and no doubt will come into use before too long but they have already served a purpose - to keep me occupied and to provide, what my husband calls, that soporific click of knitting needles on a long dark evening.

Forest of Dean genealogy

Prompted by recent events I return to family history research in the Forest of Dean. For various reasons my research in this area has lain dormant for a number of years hence the need to re- register on the excellent Forest of Dean Family History site - http://www.forest-of-dean.net/
Gratitude, as ever, goes to the teams of volunteers who give their time to enable the development of resources on such sites and the advantage that brings to researchers. I was helped a number of years ago by forum members on the site in my search for the families of Savery, Giles, Pegley and Anthony to name but a few and I note continued interest in some of these families by fellow family historians. I am faced with the dilemma of not quite knowing where to start with my current surge of enthusiasm and the obvious answer is to go back to basics with all these strands and work through in a systematic way. The temptation, which I find hard to resist, is to take one line of interest and run with it but that can become rather haphazard and records are missed or filed in a slipshod way. I must try to resist the charms of the Saverys and begin, again with Jones and do the best I can today.

Eggs for supper

A few days away and back to a large supply of eggs. The hens have not been laying particularly well recently but 3 or 4 a day from the 9 of them soon mount up. The only other garden produce seems to be a few marrows, the last potatoes and onions and some self-seeding coriander and rocket. First thought is a Spanish omelette with a little colour added by half a red pepper left in the fridge. A couple of slices cur from a marrow and quite finely diced can be fried in some olive oil and garlic with a finely chopped onion and the diced red pepper. The potatoes can be boiled and sliced in rings and added to the pan before the beaten eggs - 6 this time and some crumbled cheese on the top. Some leftover Saint Agur works quite well but any blue veined cheese adds a certain, if not authentic flavoour. I like to finish the omelette off under the grill and then serve with a little salad - rocket and coriander today with a couple of tomatoes. The tomatoes would go equally as well chopped into the omelette and provide some colour.
For dessert it is to the freezer and some of the stewed figs from earlier in the summer. These, together with  Bramley apples which have fallen from the tree over the past few days make the base of a fruit crumble - a figumble or figappumble - the latter I think, with a custard made from fresh egg yolks.

The Forest of Dean

A beautiful journey in the November sunshine through the Forest of Dean. Spending so much time as a small child on the borders of the Forest, just outside Monmouth, I had known about its existence but had never really got to know the place until family history research took me there some years later. I had driven along the A449 from the M50 to the M4 countless times and always loved the sight to my left. Day trips to Chepstow and Tintern Abbey gave a taste of what the area had to offer but it was only following the lives of those in the 19th century that I feel I truly began to get to know the place. Wandering into the church at St Braivel's and seeing the list of clergymen over the years in the porch with  the name of the one who married Isaac and Jane in 1843. Having a drink in a pub near to Tidenham Chase and talking to the owner who confirmed that families with the same name still lived there. Walking up to the church at Tidenham in the steps of Charles and Eliza who married there in 1870. On a walk along Offa's Dyke some years ago we came across a cottage which had been the home of ancestors and would have loved to have knocked on the door. House hunting in an area not too far from the Forest at the moment has, on occasions, stretched to cover some of the villages we love there. My abiding memory of the Forest, though, is a sad one. The funeral of an uncle at what must be one of the most wonderful settings for a crematorium in the land. I went alone but sat looking out of the floor to ceiling glass window at the Forest and knew that Alf was at rest.

Perseverance and progress

A day spent online has produced results. Not a lot else has been done but I have discovered a great deal more than I could possibly have hoped. Sadly, not all records are free of charge but I managed to make considerable progress with the Williamses. Lessons have been learned, not least of which has been to make meticulous notes at the time. I thought I had noted some things but obviously had not. I thought I had added some information to the relevant record but it was not there. I am now wondering if I have been looking at an earlier version of a tree. Moving from one computer to another, backing up laptops, transferring data is rarely done with military precision and now I am paying the price. Some months ago I sat down with a fellow family historian and we cleansed the data for one branch of a family tree. It took a considerable amount of time but, at the time, felt entirely worthwhile and today, with the wonderful benefit of hindsight, I know that this is what must be done. I sometimes like to refer to a "work in progress" but if that means slipshod records then it is not worth the extra time it then takes to reassess and reassemble and wonder why it wasn't done right in the first place.

A name like Williams

My family history research today is concentrated on the surname "Williams" - one of the most popular surnames in the united kingdom and particulary in Wales where this branch of the family originate. My delight at the first names of Edward and Inkerman was short lived when I discovered two men of exactly the same name born in exactly the same registration district in exactly the same year. Fortunately for me, though not for him, one of them died prematurely I eventually discovered and it is now the family of the survivor of the two Edwards that I am investigating. Family legend has one child moving to the US and marrying "Fannie" - but it may have been another great uncle. Perhaps it was the one who was the taxidermist asked to go to the Antarctic with Scott but who declined? Then there may be some connection to the cousin who somehow became a colonel in the American army during the civil war and latterly became the American consul in Wales? Endless family stories but little fact upon which to establish a link. Some lateral thinking and the use of google maps to establish proximity have extended the family one generation and now there is the wonderful added element of what could be an unusual first name to investigate if only it was more legible on the 1911 census record.

Clocks

After 31 years and two months the carriage clock on the mantlepiece has stopped. Changing clocks back an hour every October has never been my favourite pastime. I hate dark mornings and dark evenings in equal measure and today, whilst altering the cloc,k that was a wedding present from Charlie and June, it stopped and cannot be persuaded to revive. I find myself disproportionately anxious and cross when things do not work and the clock stopping was quickly followed by the printer deciding not to print - again. Patience won on this occasion and the recipe for apple chutney has now printed - twice. Back to clocks. The gap had to be replaced and a search revealled a pleasant carriage clock which would not look amiss. A previously undiscovered plaque on its back identified that it had been given to my mother as a retirement present by the children at the school where she taught for many years. It seems appropriate that it should replace the defunct wedding present. A further clock, with a clearer face, was then brought back to life with a new battery and that is now alongside the Wedgwood box which was always kept in my parents' bedroom and is now in my sitting room. The box has a chipped lid and I never recall it being in perfect condition. I imagine that it was meant for keeping "trinkets". We don't talk about trinkets any more but it is a lovely word. I imagine that my son would have loved that word as a child. Some words are quite delightful: delicate, delightful, squashy, bubbling,juxtaposition. Changing the clocks as a term only brings thoughts of frustration that, yet again, I did not make a note last year about how to change the time on the range, the microwave, the boiler. I actually don't think that the microwave has ever had the correct time but does it matter? I understand that in Russia they are staying on summer time. As someone about to fly across a number of time zones I wonder why it all seems so complicated.

Muddy hens

Going down to collect the eggs today wearing a pair of mules was not a good idea. The grass was wet and my feet were soaking by the time I reached the mudbath that is the hens' home for those months of the year when rainfall exceeds sunshine. A trip back to the house and shaking out the summer detritus from the wellies. The wonderful pair of Wellington boots - the mainstay of the garden and  the field for most of the year. Easy to slip on; not great for walking great distances but perfect for collecting eggs and generally seeing to the hens. Three eggs today - all covered in mud - a blue one from a Columbine, a speckled brown from either the Speckled Star or the Brown Star and a pale brown from one of the Bluebells. A couple of handfuls of corn as an afternoon treat and some fresh water and hens fed and watered and as comfortable as they can be for the rest of the day. As the days have grown shorter and they have been spending more hours inside it is evident that the pecking order has resumed and a couple of the hens have noticeably lost feathers around their necks. Their insistence on all going into one henhouse at nighfall does not help the crowding issue. Yanking out a few to equally share accommodation is a dirty option at this time of year. Always a case of getting a balance right.

Good old spag bol

I am a great believer in cooking in bulk. My 30 year old le creuset casserole is nearing the end of its, very useful, life and high on my list of Christmas present requests this year is a new one. The second casserole is a Dutch oven and this too, over the years, has received a battering and the lid no longer fits tightly so it is only useful for meals prepared on the hob. The third implement is the stock pot which, during the year, can be found in use as a bread bin - or bread shed as it is known in our family or storage for any manner of goodies when it is not  bubbling away on the range with its huge capacity to make soup for a party, mulled wine for a multitude, chicken stock to fill a freezer and a spaghetti sauce to provide meals for a week.
Today the le creuset is in use with the ubiquitous sauce for spag bol. My typical plan would go as follows:
Equipment - 2 large casserole type pans and an extra saucepan
Ingredients - onions, peppers, garlic, mixed herbs, tins of tomatoes, mushrooms, leftover red wine, chilli flakes or powder or sauce or fresh, leftover vegetables, courgettes in season, beef mince or lentils and aubergines, red kidney beans
The last ingredient would raise an eyebrow before the explanation that I do like to cook in bulk but I also like to vary the meals we may have in a week. A basic tomato sauce is easily divided and extras added to make:
A sauce to have with spaghetti
A base for a lasagne
Chilli con carne - with added red kidney beans and chilli
A base for burritos
Without the beef mince but with the lentils and added vegetables for a vegetarian option of any of the dishes and with any leftovers blitzed with additional liquid for a lunchtime soup.
I like to chop 3 onions and fry them gently in olive oil, adding a little salt to stop them browning. I then divide the onions in between the 2 casseroles - or 3 if I am making a vegetarian option. Into two I will add the mear and brown. I am using frozen garlic at the moment which comes in blocks and I will add a block or two at this stage. Then any chopped peppers or other vegetables and any herbs and spices followed by tomatoes and extra stock or just water. Into one pan I will add the red kidney beans and extra chilli and then they can all just simmer away for an hour or two. I have a stock of small plastic containers with lids which can take the sauces for the freezer or just to store in the fridge to be brought out to be added to pasta, rice, a jacket potato or a tortilla wrap. Economical and tasty and home made food.

Banana bread

Some basic recipes are so delightful that the word "irresistible" is taken quite literally. Today I saw a couple of very ripe bananas in the fruit bowl and my first thought was Banana bread. Not something I make very often and  no default recipe so a quick trawl through the myriad cookery books to find a recipe to adapt to ingredients in the house - rain making a journey out to the shops unattractive. An adapted Nigella recipe produced a light, moist and quite wonderful cake. So difficult to resist that three slices were quickly consumed - a lesson to be learned - never bake something delicious then go without lunch, the result being the consumption of three slices in rapid succession.
I am reminded of tastes that seem to need "more than one": olives, anchovies, capers, dark 70% plus cocoa solids chocolate,oysters, mussels, langoustine, strawberries, blueberries, cookies, slices of blueberry pie, lemon meringue, chocolate brownies, crab sandwiches, chips, salt and chilli prawns, cookies, cups of tea.

Kedgeree

My childhood food memories are of oatcakes, baking and leftovers. There always seemed to be a Sunday roast followed by a week of leftovers or egg and chips. My grandmother made rissoles with leftover beef minced with onions, sage and leftover mashed potatoes. Cottage pie would usually appear during the week with the mince now augmented by thick gravy. Any leftover slices of beef would make sandwiches with thick slices of white bread and maybe onions and the last of the meat would become the standard Potteries' one pot stew known as lobby. Lobby would be made, out of preference, with fresh stewing steak or mince which would be browned and then left to simmer with onions, potatoes, carrots and any other root vegetable,s in stock, until meal time. Everyone had their own particular version of lobby and I remember it being served in large pyrex bowls.
I have not make lobby for over 30 years but occasionally make rissoles and cottage pie. Sunday roasts are rather a thing of the past or the special occasion but I still have a love of leftovers and prefer my fridge to be full of bowls of leftover mashed potatoes, rice, a small piece of salmon, some leftover vegetables, a tomato sauce, half a chicken. Today there was a bowl of leftover rice with some garden peas. There were a couple of hard boiled eggs too and my immediate thought was kedgeree. I have loved smoked haddock since visiting my Uncle Johnnie who worked on the docks in Fleetwood. He would bring home a piece of smoked haddock wrapped in newspaper and I just adored the smell, the texture and the taste. I can poach a piece of smoked haddock and just eat it as it is with no accompaniment. I have to be careful not to pick out just the odd flake or two once it is gently poached in milk and waiting for me to assemble the kedgeree and, yes, I have just "tasted" more or less half a fillet. The recipe I use is simple. I poach the smoked haddock in milk and leave it to cool slightly. In the meantime I fry an onion in a little oil until soft and then add a spoonful of curry paste. I like the Korma paste for a gentle curry taste but anything to give that spicy flavour. When we are ready to eat, I add the cooked rice ( with garden peas today which is not in any way authentic but they were there) to the onions and then add the flaked smoked haddock with some of the milk and heat thoroughly. I like to add chopped fresh coriander towards the end. The boiled eggs are quartered and added to the pan - I use a wok. I prefer freshly boiled eggs which are just a little soft but leftover eggs from the fridge are quite acceptable. Quantities are fluid but more is best so far as the smoked haddock is concerned.

Elusive families

Family history research is rewarding and, at times, frustrating. Sometimes it seems that families completely disappear and no matter how much "thinking outside the box" is done they remain elusive. I have been attempting to track one family in South Wales for a number of years. They suddenly disappear in the early 1900s - all of them. Yet I find the death of the mother in the 1920s in the appropriate city. What happened to the rest of the family? Did they emigrate? Possible. Did they succumb to an epidemic, influenza maybe? Possible. Did they simply move? Never marry? Change their name? So many options so intriguing.

A lack of eggs

The two White Star hens laid beautiful, large, white shelled eggs. When the fox despatched Simon Garfunkel stopped laying and she has not resumed. Over the weekend we noticed her, once proud, red comb had paled and she looked bedraggled and unhappy. Closer inspection revealled fine twine wrapped around her feet. Very careful untangling and snipping removed what must have been constricting blood supply and she now looks much happier. No eggs of a white variety have yet appeared but it feels so much better that she has had the twine removed. We cannot see where it came from but the netting over the coop has come detached and, although it does not seem to have fallen into the coop, that is the only possible explanation we can think of. Constant vigilance is needed even when the hens are in their protective environment. I miss being able to let them roam free in the garden but their welfare must be paramount and, unless I can be with them all the time, I cannot risk letting them wander.
There are still a few eggs each day and, when not baking, they mount up. The freezer is running low on bread and cakes so that is maybe a message about what I can do this week. Yesterday's wholemeal bread did not turn out to my liking and it can be demoralising when things do not work out. I have to try to forget about the failures and try again. I seem to have far more success with white bread than brown and the easy option would be to stick to white. A defeatist attitude will not promote a sense of achievement, however and I know that the answer may lie in actually reading a recipe for wholemeal bread and following it.

Five films which can only be guilty pleasures

Batteries Not Included
Every Which Way But Loose
Sweet Home Alabama
You've Got Mail
Love Actually

Soup and comfort food

October and, coming up to Halloween and Bonfire Night, thoughts turn to warming and comforting food and one of the best is a bowl of soup. It is not the ultimate comfort food in my world. That accolade has to go to oatcakes and cheese. Staffordshire oatcakes, not Scottish ones. The oatcakes that you used to be able to buy in many small shops on street corners in Stoke on Trent; the thin pancake like oatcakes made simply of oatmeal, salt and water and cooked on a griddle. The staple diet for breakfast and lunch for those living in Stoke in the 1950s and 60s when I was there and possibly so today. Oatcakes with melted cheese and perhaps tomatoes and mushrooms, with bacon and even sausages but the simplicity of oatcakes and cheese can sooth a pain, warm a cold day, fulfil a basic hunger, mend a broken heart. On a recent visit to West Wales to see family from Stoke on Trent I was not surprised to see a  pack of oatcakes brought out of the freezer at lunch time. I know what a cousin in Germany would want to have taken over by any family visitors.
Today, though, it is soup. The house is filled with the smells of the various stages of soup production. Gently frying onions followed bt the more pungent chilli and garlicky aromas of a minestrone soup bubbling away on the stove. Finished with a grating of a good parmesan it makes an unorthodox Sunday lunch but just what is needed on a chilly October day.

Train journeys

One of my favourite train journeys is going north towards the midlands from South Wales. Leaving Newport and travelling across to Chepstow and then alongside the Bristol channel up to Cheltenham is quite beautiful. The scenery is not as dramatic as the journey from Sheffield across the Pennines to Manchester but the view over the Severn has a certain serenity. One day I may see the famous Severn bore and watch those who attempt to surf with it. Mostly the water is calm and still and I can ponder the days of the Severn ferries before the 2 crossings and wonder at the lives of those in the nineteenth century who crossed the river from rural Wiltshire and Gloucestershire to find work in the industry of South Wales. The train is a relaxing alternative to driving but then the road from Goodrich in Herefordshire to Newport is again one of my favourite journeys. Today is a first for me. The first time I have had my laptop and dongle with me on the train and, as we pull into Gloucester, I find that the time is going quickly and I will soon be back to the hens and a new batch of baking. The more time I spend in Wales the more I know that I want to be there all the time, not for periods of time but permanently. There seems to be so much more sky and that makes me calm and relaxed. If a house and garden could somehow be magically relocated then my life would change. I must wait to see what will happen.

Living, loving, leaving

I recall someone describing country music to me in terms of living, loving and leaving and whenever I am about to leave those I love the phrase comes in to my head. Life is full of useful sayings which say it all but are not always recognised as helpful at the time:
Move on
One day at a time
Live and let live
Let her/him/them/it go
Whatever will be, will be
Enough
That last one looks so strange having just typed it. Enough phrases and the term itself is a good one. Whenever something is burning away inside me just that one word is enough to pour in icy water and extinguish the fire. Holding on to destructive thoughts and feelings eats away and is never needed. Enough.
Tomorrow I leave. The leaving is temporary and I move on to others I love. My time here has been fulfilling and objectives have been met. Tomorrow brings a new day and whatever comes along with that. For the moment I have done the best that I can here and it must be enough. Today I am grateful for that.

Some things puzzle me

The post brought an electricity bill which shows that a) I am in credit by a substantial amount and b) they will be increasing my direct debit from next month.
I bought a new laptop - the same make as the old one and so assumed that the power cable would have the same fitting.
I can remember to carry with me a variety of plugs and cables - plug to charge i phone, in car charger for i  phone, charger for one particular nokia phone, battery charger for camera, dongle, usb stick, usb connection to external hard drive.....but not the one cable I need to download photographs from camera to laptop.
The petrol tank is always on the opposite side of the car to the side nearest to the pump when I am driving an unfamiliar car.
Pegs just somehow disappear.
My glasses are never in the place where I am quite certain that I have left them.
Why do we sometimes continue to do the same thing and expect different results?

Decisions

Some weekends require no other decisions than what to eat and what to watch on the television. That can be difficult enough. Do we eat in or out? If we eat out then where? Do we eat out for lunch or dinner? If we eat in do we invite friends? If we invite friends then is that for an informal supper, an afternoon tea or a takeaway? What about combining eating out with an invitation to friends? Then there will be the shopping to coincide with the decisions. Do we shop locally or get into the car? Do we shop online if we can get a favourable delivery slot? Often no decision is made and each meal time is greeted with a query. Television viewing is rather more straightforward. At some point during the day the papers will be glanced through and the comment made that there is nothing to watch on any of the myriad channels and a DVD may be a good idea. By the time meals have been organised there is no energy left to decide on a DVD and the televison invariably drones on in the background whilst we read or knit or fall asleep.
This weekend is different. There is a Wales game to watch, unfortunately at 8am. This involves a number of decisions. Do we watch at home? Do we wander along to the Millenium stadium and watch on a large screen amidst the normal, wonderful atmosphere? Do we sleep in and watch it later? Decisions then about meals will be dictated by the crowds milling around after the game. Will getting a meal in town be easy or just too busy as it would be on a home game day? Who will be around for lunch? What about later in the day? An added influnece this particular weekend will be the need for those running in the half marathon on Sunday to bulk up with carbohydrates on Saturday. Not the day to go for a light meal or a platter of seafood.
Then Sunday. Another early start for the half marathon. Will the runners want a large lunch? Will they want to go out to eat or recover at home? Decisions.
I am eternally grateful that I feel no need to make precise decisions about my weekends. Taking each day as it comes can be seen as a cliche but it is by far the easiest way to approach life. I know what there is to eat tonight and tomorrow is another day. There will be food in the house; shops are nearby; restaurants abound. The day will unfold.
Now what will the weather be like and what to wear?

A good family name - Enos

One of the many frustrations of family history research is the "ordinary" name. Surnames of Jones, Williams and Smith added to popular first names of John, Thomas, Henry etc make research well nigh impossible at times. Speculation and educated guesses may the nearest to accuracy one can hope for. Hence the delight in the discovery of Enos as a family name. Biblical in origin it does not seem to be one of the perennially popular first names. Added to an uncommon surname the potential for easy and accurate research seemed inevitable. One of the many lessons for the amateur family historian - never make assumptions about ease of research or easy names. How likely that there would be 2 people of the same name in the same location? Inevitable. How likely that the one with the most obvious age would be the wrong one? Inevitable. How many variations on a simple name can there be? Many. In this case - Anas, Enis, Ennis, Eunis......plus variations on the surname. How can a name such as this be abbreviated or made into a nickname? Easy - think Ernie......
It is a good name as is any slightly unusual name but then come the added frustrations. How can one person give quite so many places of birth on census returns? Sometimes the only answer seems to be to prevent future generations from finding him. A multitude of seemingly unrelated occupations makes life even more complicated and the ultimate distraction in being buried with a grandchild and not the other way round.
My genealogical obsession began with Enos and he still fascinates me. I doubt if I will ever discover why he was baptised as a child with his brothers and sisters into the Church of England when his family had been Baptists for generations. It is unlikely that I will find a photograph of him now. I will be surprised if the name is revived in the family in future generations. Yet he is pivotal. He sparked the interest and over a decade later I am still as fascinated by his story. Thank you Enos.

Daytime television

It has to be a guilty pleasure, watching television during the day. Sometimes the TV is on in the background with no one really watching it but it is a reassuring presence in the house; voices in the background. When I know that I will be at home all day my listening and viewing will tend towards radio 4 before 9, radio 2 until 12 and then whatever is on BBC1 until the news at one. My mother always made the same comment about programmes searching out antiques in ordinary homes -" amazing what some people have in their homes". Indeed. No doubt people are amazed by my inability to get rid of paperback books but there is equally no doubt that it would  not make riveting viewing. I understand that the curs in the BBC funding will result in programmes such as these no longer being made for daytime viewing on BBC2 but, instead, there will be repeats. I don't mind repeats but it depends on what is being repeated. I can watch, indefintely, old situation comedies." As time goes by" is my idea of perfect gentle viewing and., later at night, I can watch episodes of "Gavin and Stacey" and laugh as if I have never seen it before. I can continue to watch "The Wire" and "The Guardian" and concentrate but, for me, daytime television is not something to concentrate on. I like the sound of the background noise but I am doing something else. In one room I may be knitting whilst watching some feed on the internet and "watching" TV. I can be baking in the kitchen and glancing through the door to see what is happening on screeen whilst listening to the radio. I usually have background TV whilst doing family history research or reading. Looking back at my first sentence I should perhaps amend that  - it has to be a guilty pleasure, having the television on during the day.

Playing Scrabble online

A friend invites me to join a game, or three, of Scrabble and suddenly I find myself constantly checking to see if he has taken his turn and I can, yet again, sit looking at the screen and contemplate the letters before me. I dislike the absence of personal interaction. I want to congratulate on clever moves, groan when planned future moves are thwarted and generally chat about the game. Online chat does not have the same effect. It does help in a small way and there are advantages to playing online. As an only child I rarely had another child to play games with. Hence my preference for the solitary occupations of reading and jigsaws, knitting and sewing, baking, writing, needlecrafts and music. I am very competitive though and it is fun when challenged to a game. It would be much more fun to play with the board in front of me and my opponent in the same room, sharing food and drink and conversation but this online alternative has its place and it brings a smile to my face to see that it is my turn again and to wonder if there is any way I can make up that huge deficit in points in all three games.

Shoes

Summer equals flip flops and winter is for boots but the agony of those inbetween times, hopefully no more than a week or two when I have to consider wearing something else on my feet. I don't like shoes. If I am completely honest I don't like to wear anything on my feet. A friend who was doing some painting here a few years ago looked at me in amazement as I wandered around barefoot inside and outside the house - nothing strange for me but he continued to comment for some time. I don't like socks nor tights and that is where flip flops and boots come in, more specifically, in the latter case, Uggs. I bought a pair of Ugg boots in New York nearly 5 years ago and I adore them. They are becoming rather worn nowadays, have had the inner soles replaced and have been through the washing machine and tumble dryer on many occasions but the sheer comfort and the fact that it is recommended that they are worn without socks. Last year I bought some proper boots from the children's department at M and S. They are the only other boots I will wear but, inevitably, I have to wear socks with them and so they are not so attractive to me. In the beginning I liked them so much that I bought another pair and my daughter has a pair too but they are not the Uggs - nor the flip flops.
Weddings are a nightmare. Finding an outfit is often difficult enough but something for the feet? I resorted to dying a pair last year as I did have an old pair of shoes that were acceptable but, green, they didn't go with the orange outfit. Now I have another wedding coming along and the anxiety begins early - what can I do about shoes?

Farewell Phoenix: Hello Las Vegas

Plans change and Beryl's 85th birthday will now be celebrated in Las Vegas, not a place I have visited in the past and new places and new experiences are always a good thing. The anticipation of a booking and a destination can outweigh the actual experince but our recent holiday in Cornwall exceeded expectations in many ways and positvity is my word for today. I am so looking forward to meeting up with family members, some I have not seen for 38 years and Las Vegas has always appealled as a brasher Blackpool maybe.
My parents loved going to Blackpool and it was a frequent holiday destination during my childhood. Photographs show that we spent time building sandcastles on the beach and I have memories of hotel rooms shared with my grandparents and Paul. It is some years since we were there; the last time being when I joined my parents with my small children and we went to the circus in the Tower. There was a discussion after my parents died about where to scatter their ashes and we had wondered about a family trip to Blackpool to complete the deed - discussion only and still something to be done. Strange how the mind works sometimes, meandering from Las Vegas to scattering of ashes via Blackpool. I think my Dad would have liked Las Vegas but, like Canada, it was a destination off limits as it would have involved a flight and that was never an option. The missed opportunity of a cruise across the Atlantic reminds me to grasp every opportunity as it is offered and live every day for that day - who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Seven years

Fascinating cutting from The Shrewsbury Chronicle of March 17th 1865 courtesy of Carole and Tim. I have a photograph of my great great grandmother, Elizabeth Mills who looks as if she had a hard life and this was her father - maybe an explanation for her expression.
The English Legal System is an interesting topic in its own right and it is made all the more intriguing when it enters the life of a family member, albeit one dead for over one hundred years. A crime of abject poverty yet a sentence of seven years imprisonment. In 1861 Elizabeth, at the age of 11, is identified living as a lodger, away from any family apart from an older sister, maybe, and working as a "nailer". Her father was not in the picture at that time and he certainly wouldn't have been after this court appearance. It is with wonder, sometimes, that I look at my family history and marvel at how I came to be. Oral tradition tells me of great grandparents meeting in the workhouse, survival through war and infection, hazardous occupations, a grandfather blown up in gas explosion at Etruria gasworks and further investigations produce evidence of crimes of poverty and removal under the Poor Laws. I can only feel gratitude for perseverance and endurance and the ability to survive and, in myself, a sense of humility when I complain that my high level problem today is the speed of my broadband connection

Post holiday tasks

One of the joys of a country cottage as opposed to a hotel is a washing machine. Two weeks away but only a small amount of washing to do on return. Sadly, this does not diminish the ironing pile but that can wait until the small gardening and food preparation tasks are completed. Just before we went away I picked all the coriander seeds and left them to dry. They have now been decanted into a Kilner jar ready to be planted out in the spring. The plan is to plant a complete raised bed and pick and freeze bunches as they are ready. I like plans but, unfortunately, they do not always work out. Tomatoes have ripened in the sun but only enough to eat. The apples will prove to be the largest job. I have made apple chutney in the past and that, again, is the plan but there are plenty of bramleys and apple crumbles and pies beckon. The last remaining courgettes have turned into marrows in our absence and are still outside. I think they may stay there until I have made a decision as to what to do with them. The delight of googling the word "marrow" awaits me. In the meantime I have decisions to make about my next knitting project. The baby blanket completed on holiday has now been edged and consigned to the "awaiting deliveries" pile and a smaller project seems attractive - perhaps a small blanket or another jacket, maybe in a larger size in readiness for a Christmas present. Amongst the post awaiting our return was my November copy of Good Housekeeping magazine and the inevitable early suggestions for Christmas gifts so that may be something I will be thinking about in the next few weeks. For now I will start the third Richard Russo novel of the fortnight; my current favoured author.

October 1st

My Dad was born on October 1st. My grandmother died on October 1st and today one of my young cousins became a grandfather for the first time. Another baby girl to welcome into the world on an auspicious day. Inevitably feeling contemplative today and, just having returned from a most enjoyable holiday, home does not seem to be the place I want to be in. A day to consider positives I think. The hens seem to be thriving and, to my chagrin, not to have missed me; the weather is glorious - far too warm to be outside: An American in Paris is the afternoon film on TV; there is a new baby in the family and doesn't celeriac look like something out of Doctor Who?

Legends, seafood, gardens and family - Cornwall

Two weeks in Cornwall in late September could have been wet and dreary but record temperatures and a near perfect location for a holiday cottage provided the basis of a wonderful family holiday. It is probably 20 years since we were last in the county and then it was in a tent with small children so the holiday revolved around beaches and very few extra excursions in the car. Gorran Haven was the beach of choice and still holds fond memories. This time, with visits from all the family for various periods of time - by car and air - we had a list of places that we would have liked to visit, places we would have liked to go to eat and we achieved it all - in fact, we exceeded our own expectations of how much we were able to do.
St Ives and the Tate were ticked off early in the first week - the only day of rain. The cream tea was also fitted into that day, albeit for lunch. Fish and chips, nay, monkfish and chips at Rick Stein's in Padstow was a family excursion. Jess joined us at the Lost gardens of Heligan and Trevano House. Charlie came to Falmouth and the Maritime Museum and we had wonderful mussels and lobster for lunch. The day we went to Tintagel was so warm that I could not manage the full climb to the top but the husband did and enjoyed weilding a sword in the English Heritage shop - a stunning location.
It is always a gamble booking a cottage online but photographs and browsing on google earth had given a good idea of what our chosen location of West Pentire was going to be like. Expectations were exceeded - a short stroll onto the coastal path and walks on National Trust land; beaches a couple of minutes away and views from the windows of the cottage - or house, actually; pubs within 2 minutes' and 20 minutes' walk; a shop in nearby Crantock and public transport which we used, only once. Visitor attractions can sometimes disappoint but not this holiday. The Lost gardens of Heligan were a wonder and the Eden Project - something I had been indifferent about - was outstanding in every way. My only negative experiences were some interesting deviations from sensible roads courtesy of the sat nav and a lack of wi fi which was solved by the extremely thoughtful gift of a dongle - a definite positive experience coming out of an earlier problem. I had a lovely holiday - straightforward fun and rest and relaxation. I finished my current knitting project, read the latest 2 Richard Russo novels on my list of must reads, walked every day and ate too much. I am often ready to come home after a week away but this time I was not. I wanted to stay by the sea.
Mmmmm - and the trip to Arizona is now to Las Vegas

B C C

My husband is the king of  BCC - bar code cancelled. He delights in trips to the supermarket about 10 minutes before they are due to close and purchases, it seems to me, anything he sees with a little yellow or red or blue sticker." Bar code cancelled"! "Reduced"! "Bargain"!
Today is our wedding anniversary. Last night he came home, thrilled, with a £15 Marks and Spencer bouquet for 80p - actually 70p more than he would have hoped to spend but that is, perhaps, maligning him.
Over the years I have been happy with the 50p chicken, the French loaves for 10p, various pastries for between 15p and 50p; pleased with the ready meals for half price but bemused by the 16 ripe avocados for £1 and the boxes of "past their best" fruit and vegetables. A box of red peppers earlier this year was a puzzle until half were roasted and added to a fish stew and the rest griddled and frozen to be revived later chopped into couscous with herbs and a good olive oil.
My personal shopping default setting does tend to relate to planned meals but a bag full of BCC goods brings a certain guilty pleasure especially when cost produces no guilt and otherwise extravagnt desserts are, indeed, a pleasure.

A day of quiet contemplation

Thinking about my Mum today. A time to sit in quiet contemplation and remember. Just one year on it is perhaps too soon not to be remembering the difficulties during the final few years; the strains and stresses and responsibilities of caring; the exhasution and frustrations of dealings with social services, the NHS, care agencies and the emotion of the last few days. But it is good to think of the positives and to look back  and recall days well spent. A marriage of 58 years and deaths within 10 weeks of each other must be a cause of celebration not sorrow. Looking back at old photgraphs of their life together  - thery were happy and together - a couple - my parents.

Defeated by technology - I surrender

Number one printer is old and slow and consumes ink cartridges in the same way as I drink tea. Hence the extravagant purchase of a number two printer which, allegedly, is much cheaper to run in terms of ink; it also has wireless capacity.
Initial surrender came whilst attempting to install on the elderly PC which is connected to number one printer. Software was loaded but new printer could not be seen. Fortunately the laptop was able to see the new printer and it was actually possible to print. So far so fairly good. Then I tried to scan. Old family photographs are to be shared, not hidden away in albums only to be brought out when relatives come to visit and, having recently re-established contact with a not too distant relative, I decided to spend some time scanning in some old photographs of our mutual great grandparents. An update to the software seemed to be needed so the 9 minutes needed to download and install was whiled away. The laptop then decided that it no longer could see the printer. Switching off and on seemed to resolve that one and a test print worked. One photograph to scan froze  - off and on again. This time a photograph scanned and was safely saved. Enthusiastically I tried the second photograph; this too scanned. Then I suppose I was getting optimistic. In the background I still have a "scanning" and if I cancel I know that I will get a "cancelling" and it will be off/on again.
So it is a secondary surrender. I never used to believe that patience was a virtue but it truly is and, combined with tolerance, makes life so much more bearable. It is not the end of the world. I just have to do the off/on again and give it another go. Perhaps next time I will get three in a row - perhaps not. The photographs are not going to go away.
They look as if they were having a good time:

A poignant day

This time in September used to be about remembering the birthdays of a couple of friends and a wedding anniversary. Then, 10 years ago, came 9/11 and, one year ago, my mother died. This year brings the delight of a new baby but memories and thoughts of loved ones.
I don't remember where I was when JFK died although many of my generation do but I recall with great detail the events of 9/11. I was home with my younger daughter who was waiting to go off to university. Her school awards ceremony was to be on the 13th when she was to receive the school cup for English literature - replacing her sister who won the same cup the previous year. On that memorable day she was watching a Doris Day film whilst I was in the kitchen listening to the radio when they annoounced that a plane had hit the World Trade Centre. I went in to the room and changed the channel on the television and we sat there gripped. I had been in New York with my son just a couple of years before and we had been into the WTC. Total disbelief.
Last year was probably the first year that I had not really thought about the anniversary of the date as I was spending the last few days of my mother's life with her in hospital. I had the privilege of being with both my parents as they passed away, within 10 weeks of each other and I shall remain forever grateful for that fact. Sitting here today thinking about 9/11 and my Mum and Dad I know that life will never be the same again. Yet life and people move on and we are about to move on to a new way of life. What will happen and where we will be are still unknown facts but life remains forever exciting and who is to know just what each new day will bring.

Coriander seeds

Coriander or cilantro has to be my favourite herb and it seems to grow so well in the garden. We have just stripped the remaining bushes of all the seeds - a most time-consuming occupation. Some will be used in cooking throughout the year and the rest will, hopefully, produce next year's plants. I like to pick the coriander and freeze it in small batches to use in curries but it is needed as fresh leaves in any kind of Mexican recipes. A handful thrown into a few chopped, ripe tomatoes with peppers, red onion and a slug of olive oil makes a simple salsa. Chopped avocado or mango makes a good addition and alternative.
My carrot and coriander soup always turns out to be rather green - an enthusiasm with the coriander. A simple soup. Gently fry aa chopped onion in a little olive oil, add some coarsely chopped carrots and a potato with a couple of pints of stock  - or water if that is all there is and cook until the potatoes are edible. Throw in a handful of chopped coriander ( or some from the freezer) and blend. I use the hand blender I used to blend baby food - it has survived well. Each time I use it I remember that electrical goods used to come without plugs as, for some reason that I have now forgotten, this blender has a vivid green plug. Sprinkle a little coriander on each bowl of soup before serving and a swirl of creme fraiche looks good.

The beginnings of a family tree

The announcement of a new birth brings my thoughts back to the beginnings of my life as a family historian. The impetus came, not with a birth but with a death as, I am sure, these things often do and today, just 2 days from the first anniversary of my mother's death it seems a good time to take my mind back some 13 years when, little did I know, my life would become dominated by old photographs, birth, marriage and death certificates, website subscrptions, churchyards, archives, trips to new villages which would suddenly become "home" and constant questioning of anyone who might just remember something.
It is the frequent lament of this family historian that I didn't ask enough questions when I had the time and the people there who might have been able to answer. I found out a lot about my mother and her early life only in her last years when I was spending a lot of time with her, just sitting and trying to think of new topics of conversation. I never knew about the number of times she moved from one set of rooms to another in her early years. I didn't know about the hats her grandmother had worn. Details that now take on a new significance since I can no longer question her. Some time after her death I wrote to her aunt who had been so upset at the funeral and asked if she had any old photographs or details about the family but, sadly, she was not the family custodian and I must be content with what I have.
My grandmother left behind a box of family papers which included, amongst other things, the funeral account for her mother in law; my grandfather's school leaving certificate; torn out pages from the visitors' book of the theatrical lodgings she ran in the 1950s; some old photographs with relationships usefully added - "brother" "grandfather" - ah, but which one?
But that wasn't the beginning. That came with an unexpected and tragically early death and the realisation that we are now the grown ups.

A new life

My God daughter gave birth to a little girl at 5.22am. Does this make me a Grand God Mother?

Afternoon tea

Afternoon tea is an instiution and, done well, is a delightful way to spend a couple of hours. The Angel Hotel in Abergavenny provides an ideal example of a classic afternoon tea. The best selection of cakes I have ever seen and tasted. Ideal for my particular taste - small examples and a varied selection. The lemon meringues and banoffee pies were a special delight.

Drawing on the example of the Angel I like to serve afternoon tea on a variety of bone china. I have a selection of cups and saucers and side plates acquired over the years and augmented by bequests. When such items of crockery were out of favour I admit to using fine bone china saucers as plant holders, particularly beneath my fledgling courgette plants in the dining room window. Now retrieved and well washed they have been reunited with their cups to provide an eclectic tea service.

I have six or seven designs of cup and saucer and prefer to use a selection - maybe 3 or 4 of the same design as a maximum. 2 sets of plates - 6 Wedgwood and an intriguing hexagaonal shape and 5 Royal Albert. If numbers exceed 11  a few waifs and strays add to the pile. For teapots I use the everyday rose sprigged china pot for breakfast tea and a tall Royal Albert teapot for Earl Grey. The younger daughter has more sophisticated taste in tea so that would be available but I try not to go too over the top.

I do not possess a tiered cake stand - and that would be a hint to anyone reading who may be in the category who would make a note of that, and use my 3 cake stands and a variety of small plates for the sandwiches and cakes.

Laying the table is important. A clean linen table cloth - I prefer cream as it is the only one I have which is large enough. A variety of linen napkins. Flowers as a centre piece. Small white roses work well.

I make only open sandwiches - a slice from a small homemade loaf making 4 small bites. Smoked salmon, obviously, egg mayonnaise, a crab pate  or fresh crab mixed with a seafood sauce and chilli, a decent ham and, in season, goats's cheese with a quarter fig drizzled with honey.

I like small slices of cake - lemon drizzle,apple, chocolate, courgette loaf, a selection of cupcakes with fancy icing, chocolate brownies. I also like to serve a bowl of fruit - maybe some strawberries or some sliced figs. Scones should be warm and served with butter (unsalted) thick cream and jam. I once took the brownies out too early and, instead of slicing them, scooped them out and served them in small glass bowls with some creme fraiche and raspberries.
Tea must be served fresh and at regular intervals. Milk and lemon available .It is surprising how many cups of tea can be consumed whilst nibbling delicious morsels.

A signature dish

Visitors for the weekend and a dash to be well prepared. Online shopping is such an excellent idea but the choice of menu is never easy. Plenty of baking in advance and ready in the freezer - a few multigrain loaves, a lemon drizzle cake, chocolate brownies and a courgette loaf. For main meals there is frozen courgette and pea soup with loads of garlic and then what? Lasagne and moussaka are usually good stand bys - lasagne with roasted vegetables a popular choice and yet another way to use up all the courgettes and moussaka made with griddled courgettes in place of the aubergine. Some ratatouille with added courgettes to eat with tagliatelle or spaghetti then, for a special meal, my favourite fish stew or a fish pie.
So the weekend menu includes a simple breakfast, lunch out and an evening meal of fish stew followed by syllabub and Sunday breakfast out at a local restaurant followed by an afternoon tea to include sandwiches made from homemade bread and a selection of defrosted cakes and freshly made or bought scones.

Apple cake

 A blustery day brought a garden full of windfalls. I like to make apple cake which freezes well. I adapted the recipe from a lemon drizzle cake basic recipe and, inevitably, use eggs from the hens.

Ingredients
8oz butter - we always use unsalted
8oz caster sugar - refined, natural cane
4 eggs
8oz self raising flour
1 tbsp cinnamon
2 or 3 windfall apples chopped into pieces about 1-2 cm

Method
Pre heat the oven to gas mark 3
Melt the butter in the microwave for about 30 seconds then cream together, using an electric hand whisk with the sugar until the mixture is pale in colour.
Add the eggs one at a time beating each one well in
Sift in half the flour and the cinnamon and fold in to the mixture.
Add the apples to the remaining flour so that the apple pieces are coated in flour before gently folding them all in.
Spoon the mixture into a 2lb loaf tin that has been lined with a greaseproof liner. Alternatively I find that this makes about 12 apple muffin type cakes - lovely for breakfast.
Bake in the middle of the oven for about an hour for the loaf or until a skewer comes out clean. For the muffins raise the temperature to gas mark 5 and bake for about 20 minutes

Note to self to spend some time adapting recipe to use one set of measurements for baking. I alternate happily between imperial and metric.

Some dried fruit - raisins, currants, sultanas go well. Dark brown demerera sugar adds a crunch.