In My Day

Spent yesterday slaving over a hot stove. I'd offered myself as cook for all the vegetarian catering for my nephew's wedding which is today.

Becky arrived the night before and Lizzie turned up in the morning. I had discovered that my "mini pimmer" made short work of nuts and breadcrumbs. Becky chopped 12 onions, I grated 9 carrots. The oven was filled with peppers, courgettes, aubergines and red onions. I directed operations while the girls made several nut loaves and cottage cheese loaves. I completed the slimy task of removing the skins from the roasted peppers and made the roasted vegetable terrine.

Later I made 4 different kinds of hummus.

Everything is ready for slicing and presentation. Plus today we must cook the stuff that doesn't keep overnight.

In My Day

On the morning of my wedding day, I could be seen walking along Western Road, Brighton, carting several carrier bags containing the food for the wedding feast. We were seriously broke but I'd splashed out on salads, cold meats, cheese, strawberries, raspberries and cream.

I went home and prepared the food. I did the strawberries and raspberries with lovely cream in individual dishes and set them out in the kitchen.

Then I scrambled into my dress and went off to my shoestring wedding (that's a subject for another blog!).

Back to our house with our family and friends to celebrate. We ate the salads and other savouries. I went out to the kitchen to collect the piece de resistance - the desserts. Our kitchen was in the process of being done up and had no door. As I approached I heard a little thump and saw my cat Ariadne running off down the passage. When I got to the kitchen - there were the desserts, but no sign of cream. All of it was inside Ariadne.

What to do? Nothing for it - I served the dessert without the cream and said nothing. In fact I said nothing for several years until it became apparent that no-one had suffered any ill effects.

Actually I should stop time wasting and get on with making the spinach and cream cheese roulades.

Today

It was my 34th wedding anniversary on Saturday. So we buzzed off to Meare Manor for a very nice dinner. We went with one of my brothers, his wife and youngest boy, my other sister in law and 2 dear friends. We put on our smarties, hired ourselves a minibus and were very jolly.

The location was lovely, a pretty manor (possibly Jacobean), close to the village street, with a pretty garden in which we sat to have pre-dinner drinks. We had a gift of a beautiful plate and matching dishes from Brother David (will go very well in flat 2, no 9) and drank champagne.

The meal was just right, served in a graceful dining room by friendly waitresses. We drank some good Sancerre and a Portuguese red wine. We relaxed at our table after the meal and the conversation flowed fast and freely.

Got home at about 1.30, having felt that we'd truly celebrated.

In My Day

I don't recall our first wedding anniversary, but then I was heavily pregnant with Lizzie and we probably didn't go out. I do remember our 2nd. We got a baby-sitter for 9 month-old Lizzie. We went to a highly recommended restaurant called the Horseshoe in Herstmonceux. It was a heavily faked half-timbered building that got its name from the fact that the entrance was shaped like a horseshoe.

We were ushered straight into a vast barn-like dining room where there were about 3 other diners. Waiters and acolytes rushed up to our table. I don't remember the whole meal, although I do remember one part which involved flambeing something or other at the table.

What I do remember is that the service was so fast we had barely put down our forks when the next stage arrived and we were done and dusted by about 9.00 .

There didn't seem to be a "coffee in the lounge" option, so there we were, on the street, so to speak, with no idea of how we were going to spend the rest of the evening.

Our babysitter got off early, though

Today

Recovering this morning from a cracking evening at Ston Easton Park yesterday. This was our "deal meal" - all the management team and partners. Lovely grub, much champagne and wine were drunk and the conversation veered from the quiet and gentle to the raucous and back again.

Paul took some of us in the Daimler. Definitely felt the part as we swirled up to the door in silver elegance.

On the way back, I succumbed to the combined effects of alcohol, food and a long day, having been in Sheffield earlier. I went to sleep. Much raucous laughter from the occupants of the back seat as I swayed around, probably snoring.

In My Day

I am a master at falling asleep in cars. When I was doing the computerisation of PAYE training, back in 1985, I was still a learner driver. I had to travel to the training centre in Southampton from Eastbourne each week and, when I could, blagged lifts from my Sussex-dwelling colleagues.

My colleague Bill had an Austin Healey Sprite. One of the those ancient cars that some men own and love, and consider very cool. I persuaded Bill to give me a lift back on one occasion. I warned him that I always fall asleep when a passenger in a car. "Not in mine!", he said. "It's far too uncomfortable."

We crammed our luggage into the back of the car where it poked into my back. There wasn't nearly enough room for my exceptionally long legs. And Bill had the top off.

We set off. Next thing I knew we were at Arundel, when Bill had to stop to put the top on because it was raining. Yup! I'd snoozed the whole way. Bill talked about it for months.

Anyway, I regard sleeping in the car as a tribute to the smoothness of the driver.

Today

Over the weekend we went back to Sussex, this time to celebrate the 18th birthday of my best mates' middle daughter. We had a jolly friendly meal at the Tudor House in Alfriston and were priviledged to be the only non-direct-family people there. Well, we do feel like Auntie & Uncle to all those kids!

The following day we agreed to collect our friends' elderly parents from their house in Willingdon so that we could continue feasting at our friends' house.

Tried to remember where the parents lived. "Oh, I'll recognise it," said I "It looks like Little Grey Rabbit's house."

In My Day

How I loved to read Little Grey Rabbit when I was a child. I don't know how old I was when I started, but I know I was still reading them in my teens.

The inner covers, back and front showed the picture of the house with its pointy roof. I never questioned the alternative reality the books showed and somehow the portayal of the characters coloured how I judged these animals to be in reality.

The sensible Rabbit, flighty Squirrel, restless Hare and wise but frightening Owl (he was, after all, a predator). And why should Hedgehog have been the milkman?

RSVP will always mean "Rat shan't visit party" and I often wondered how you made a cowslip ball.

My favourite was Moldy Warp the Mole who took them all on a treasure hunt underground. Most of the animals waited outside in the fields and Alison Uttley gave a truly unsettling description of dusk deepening to night and the fear of the animals.

Anyway, we found the house which was similar, except it has half-timbering.

Today

Panic because Paul couldn't find the Bentley keys. He'd done a wedding with both the Bentley and the Daimler (its first outing), and, when he came to put the keys away, only had those for the Daimler in his hand. Was very hot and bothered, so decided to come home and have another look on Friday.

He phoned me at work - "I can't find the keys anywhere and they're the only ones I've got and I've another wedding on Saturday". Decided not to rail at the fact that he hadn't got around to getting a spare set and started to talk him through the sequence of events of the day before. Had he gone outside the garage after parking the Bentley? How was it that, if he'd parked the Daimler first, that he hadn't already put away the Daimler keys, and so on. Had he gone back to the Daimler after parking the Bentley? Not sure. Nothing in either boot, glove lockers etc.

Occasional seats - they were used, weren't they as there were quite a few bridesmaids? Could keys have got tucked into them when they were folded up?

Certainly could. Genius! There they were! "What would I do without you, you've saved my life, etc, etc, etc"

In My Day

In the days when having a Bentley, even in the way of business, was an impossible dream, Paul ran a frightful Vauxhall Victor estate. He'd hand painted it in white domestic paint in an effort to spruce it up, so it was really smart.

Lost the keys one day. Had no idea where they might be. Looked everywhere. This was before we were married or living together so I couldn't really search through his parent's flat or his underwear drawers.

How were we to drive anywhere? Easy. This was an ancient car, after all. Paul simply hotwired it every time we had to go anywhere. How about getting in and out of the car? Well, although the driver and passenger doors resisted attempts to be forced, the tailgate was much easier. So, in order to go anywhere, Paul first had to crawl into the car from the back end, open the boot catch, crawl back out, hotwire the car, crawl back into the car and we were off!

It rather inhibited our ability to go anywhere looking smart, but then we were a long way before smart. Paul had what was then a wardrobe staple, a black needlecord jacket. Rather ancient and needing much steaming and pressing before it was wearable. He wore it anyway. I attained by means of getting married, the priviledged position of being able to perform this enviable task. What could this be, rattling around in the lining? (The pockets were long since shot to pieces.) Could it be the keys?

Certainly could.

Which kicked off a lifetime together of Paul assuming that I know where everything is. And I have to say, I usually do.

Today

I've been sitting in the garden with Paul, watching the stars come out. Some years we have almost no evenings where we can sit outside at 11.00 pm and not feel chilly. Tonight we watched the first stars appear, the bats fly about removing mosquitoes and craneflies. We gently sipped white wine, talked and generally enjoyed being together.

We're fortunate this summer so far, with a couple of warm weeks in June (regrettably some spent at the TSI conference in Brighton) and some more lovely weather now.

It's something we should really be enjoying. Who knows what's in store?

In My Day

Obviously, I recall lovely weather as a child. I'm not one of those who think that every childhood day was warm and lovely. Too much of a realist, I'm afraid. But I do remember the heatwave of 1959. I recall days when it was hot enough to play under the hosepipe. Days when my skin crackled and peeled with the sun. I remember the walk to Haydon's Ball in baking sun. We were all carrying overcoats just in case, so it was a real trek. I recall the canvas "shelter" which we would erect in the garden to shade us and our tea from the sun and wasps. I recall the teas with sandwiches and cake eaten in the garden.

What I don't recall are any after dark summer experiences. I don't think that Mamma and Daddy sat outside as we do, gazing at the sky or enjoying the warm midnight air. Being in London meant the stars were all but invisible which might have been the reason.

Anyway, I saw 3 stars before deciding to come in.

Today

Finding myself in possession of a sum well in excess of £1 million, with more to come, after the disposal of my company, I find myself reflecting about what such a sum means to me and how it will change my life view. I feel absolutely no different. I'm not inspired to spend vast sums on irrelevant jewellery or a yacht. I don't yearn to mix with footballers' wives or other vacuous celebrities.

I'm thinking with excitement of our lovely Brighton flat, especially after it's been lovingly restored with the help of my friend John. I'm thinking how I can free my Lizzie so that she can do her last year at uni without also working 30 hours a week, and maybe gain that first she so richly deserves. I'm hoping to enjoy the next 30 years, but not arrive at age 90 or so either destitute or still with 2 million in the bank which neither I nor my friends and family have enjoyed.

So not exactly the "spend, spend, spend" mentality.

In My Day

I remember the day when we had twelve and a half pence. I had no money at all and Paul was waiting for his first month's pay as a bus driver (payable in arrears).

In the house we had some butter and an onion. I went to the shop and bought some potatoes, some packet soup and a very small tin of cat food for my cat.

We ate soup and boiled potatoes for lunch. We had baked potato and onion fried in butter for supper. And Ariadne the cat got to eat.

I've absolutely not forgotten those days, nor the way that our friends and family shared what we had. It would be seriously bad manners to let my folk struggle when I can give them a hand.

Today

Back from another Sussex weekend. Initially because our friend Derek was celebrating his 70th birthday and we were invited to the bash. We set off on Friday because we also hoped to take some time to have a another look at our lovely flat.

We met John at the flat and, yes, it was really lovely. The bedrooms & kitchen are places to cook and sleep, but the drawing room with its beautiful mouldings and French doors overlooking the sea.......

We gained access this time to the Kemp Town enclosures, to which we'll be given a key as soon as we become resident and sign up to the annual maintenance. 5 acres of private garden without ever having to lift a pair of secateurs? Rather!

I found the tunnel that goes from the Enclosures under Marine Drive to the Esplanade at Black Rock.

In My Day

Walking along the Undercliff Walk was a standard feature of visits to Brighton. Sometimes we would get the Volks railway, sometimes we walked the whole way from the station, past the Clock Tower and the Old Steine. There was graffiti on the walls in those days, too, largely done with the pieces of chalk that lay about on the path. After seeing a "A loves B" bit of writing, Beatrice, aged about 8, wrote in large letters "I love my Daddy".

Marine Drive was then, as now, shored up with huge walls. Some, at the Madeira Drive end, had arcades and shelters. I was fascinated by the life in those walls. Little shops and businesses like mole's homes. Benches and shelters for those who couldn't cope with the long walk in howling winds. The walls were mostly brick or concrete, but every now and then there were facades with gated entrances.

Only now do I realise that the most ornate of them was the entrance to the enclosures.

Sort of a full circle, really

Today

Still V excited about the new flat. Spoke to my friend John and asked him if he'd be interested in overseeing the restoration project (he's good at that sort of thing) at a local level. He said "I'm your man!" Am going to look at it again on Saturday.

The trouble is, it's easy to get sidetracked into thinking that that lampshade or candleholder would look great. And we don't even know how we're going to decorate it. I do know, having looked up Thomas Kemp on the Internet, that the development dates from the 1820's, so that gives us a clue.

Saw a beautiful bed in a catalogue today. It's intricately carved mahogany, painted white in French chateau style. Very Directoire and I love it! It'll be months before the flat is ready to receive such an item.

In My Day

Eventually, we decided that the iron bedstead and flock mattress had to go. This was after Paul had leapt onto the bed one evening, shouting "Geronimo!" and one corner of the frame gave way entirely. We couldn't afford to pay outright for a new bed, so I ordered one from a friend's catalogue. I chose kingsize because we are biggish chaps.

This item was delivered into the entrance hall of the flats in Belmont in Brighton while I was at work. We were in a top flat, up many steep stairs. If the bed base hadn't divided into two, we'd've had to sleep on the landing. And to manhandle a kingsize mattress up those stairs was an amazing feat. I've an idea I did it alone.

The bed supplied us with unheard-of luxury and we slept on it until the springs began to poke through, twenty years later.

I don't think I'd like to go back to those poverty-stricken days, but it does put things into perspective, remembering them.

Today

The most exciting thing about this week has been the proposed purchase of a flat in Brighton. Not to move into, but as a "pied a mer", so to speak. This dream that we've had for a while has been made possible by the sale of my business. Last week, in the boiling hot weather, we trekked from flat to flat to town house to flat. We've made up our minds to a Kemptown sea front first floor Georgian flat, scruffy, but with plenty of original features to restore and lots of space.

Our offer's been accepted, and, if all is well, the purchase will be completed by the end of July.

We've had the pleasure of being able to be as choosy as we like, and will be able to have heaps of fun selecting just the right furniture etc for it.

In My Day

I remember our first flat together in Brighton. Not a bad place, on a three year lease, near Seven Dials. It was on the top floor and had a large lounge, one enormous bedroom and two smaller ones. There was an OK bathroom and small kitchen.

When we moved in we had:

A very old sofa bed, lent to us by our friends the Levetts, the oak dining table that we still have, an ancient iron bedstead with flock mattress, courtesy of my brother, 4 very assorted chairs, a folding card table and mismatched hi-fi bits. Oh, and a 2-ring Baby Belling cooker.

I had my sewing machine and I made curtains for the lounge sitting at the card table. Later we carpeted the bathroom, using carpet samples. The flat had very old-fashioned night storage heaters, that looked like tanks lined up against the walls. We just about coped with those until the 3-day week, when power cuts at various times of day prevented the booster re-heating the bricks.

When Lizzie was born I put my maternity allowance towards a spin-dryer and we made our first foray into HP, buying a fridge, lounge carpet and gas fire. How we trembled about the repayments! We never raised enough money to carpet the large bedroom.

We lived there for three years and loved Brighton the town.

I'm so excited about the prospect of Brighton second time around!