Sunday, October 19, 2014

Westward Ho

Today

My niece has been staying with us for a few days. Just before leaving she set up her satnav for home. "Turn east onto the High Street", intoned the satnav man. "Not that would help me", said Andie "I don't know my east from my west or the north from the south." 

In My Day

At one point, during our time living at Stoke St Michael, we were on the village hall committee. One of the regular fund-raisers was a "car hunt". To do this you devised a set of clues, leading from place to place. Contestants paid a sum for the clue sheet and filled in the relevant answers; these could vary from  a signpost, ornament on a house, landmark etc. The prize, donated by a local garage, was a tankful of petrol. In the meantime the committee made a tidy little sum, especially as the event usually ended with a buffet and drinks etc in the village hall.

One year, with about four days' notice, Paul and I were asked to create the clues for the hunt. We rose to challenge magnificently, producing cryptic clues in rhyming couplets. This was such a raging success that we did it for several years.

The clues had to incorporate both directions and hints as to the actual item that was the answer. The total run would be about twenty miles and was expected to take a couple of hours. Just before the day Paul and I would do the circuit, checking accuracy and making sure that nothing had changed. Sometimes we had to trim away brambles and other vegetation that was threatening to obscure some vital clue.

The first clue, of course, had to set people off in the right direction. One year the first clue incorporated something along the lines of "go in the direction of the setting sun.." We watched, mesmerised, while a bunch of local yokels stood outside, scratching their heads at this. They turned to another local who was sauntering by. "Which direction is the setting sun?" they asked. "Well.......," came the reply "that depends on what time of day it is...." 

Was this a serious reply or a wind-up? We had no idea, and watched while the lads set off in a southerly direction, not to be seen again (at least not that night). 

Not exactly wandering off into the sunset.

Wednesday, October 08, 2014

Memory Board

Today

As I chopped vegetables and grated cheese tonight, I found myself thinking of my sister Carol.

In My Day

I think it was in 1988 that Carol and her grandson Tyler came over to visit. We had planned a visit to Fowberry Moor in wildest Northumberland and Paul and I, Becky and cousin Izzie, Tricia, Carol and Tyler drove in two cars the long journey up the A1.

We had a lovely time and when we all got back to Stoke St Michael, Carol had enjoyed herself so much that she wanted to buy me a present. 

She had noticed me using a chopping board that had belonged to Mamma. Actually, it was half a chopping board as years of soaking in in water had eventually split the wood lengthways. "Let me buy you a new one," begged Carol. We went into the posh kitchen shop in Bath where I selected a very large, plain wooden board.

Carol was rather disappointed with my very practical choice and tried hard to persuade me to buy a fancy round breadboard carved with little ears of wheat. "It's so cute!" she protested. But I was adamant and the plain board was bought.

I don't know whether a cute round board would have lasted as long; it certainly wouldn't have been so useful.

The large plain board is in daily use after twenty-six years; thank you so much, Carol. And I never soak it in water.

Sunday, October 05, 2014

Triple Decker

Today

My nephew Jacob was singing the praises of peanut butter this week. "if someone had told me peanut butter was this good, I'd have started eating it before last week" he enthused.

In My Day

Peanut butter was certainly not part of my life as a child. If I'd heard of it at all, it was as an inescapably American foodstuff, like molasses or bagels.

At the end of 1979 my Canadian nephew Mark came to live with us for a few months. In order to fund the rest of his travel plans, it became essential that he get a job. He talked his way into a manager position at Unigate Dairies in Eastbourne. The day started early and ended in time for him to collect Lizzie from school.

Breakfast at five-thirty was not an option for Mark. He scrambled himself off to work with nothing but a gulp of coffee inside him and ate nothing till he returned home. He discovered that he could buy peanut butter at the supermarket and his daily breakfast/lunch, eaten at about three pm, was a triple-decker sandwich constructed thus:

white bread, butter, peanut butter, jam, 
white bread,  butter, peanut butter, jam, 
white bread. 

I guess it looked something like this picture, but I seem to remember it as a toppling pile that took Mark quite an effort to get his teeth around.

He always said that butter was an essential ingredient as it stopped the peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth. I can't remember what his favourite jam was. Personally, I thought it looked dreadful and wondered about its nutritional and calorie value. And, even now, I don't much like peanut butter, although I have used it to make biscuits.

But no doubt it's part of what has made Mark the man he is today!