Monthly Archives: April 2013

Food Monday ~ Beetroot Pickle

Beetroot Pickle

500g cooked beetroot, grated* into a large Pyrex bowl
400ml hot water
200ml white vinegar
200g granulated sugar
pinch salt

Add vinegar, sugar & salt into hot water and bring just to the boil. (do not allow to boil until sugar is fully dissolved).

Once it has reached the boil, pour over beetroot, cover the bowl with a clean tea towel and allow to cool. Strain and store in sterilised jars in fridge for up to 2 weeks.

* I use the food processor to grate my beetroot, it has it done in seconds.

Photographing the Alphabet ~ K

K ~ Kimba

Meet Kimba


I met this well mannered lady in the park on a recent walk. There are several paths that crisscross a large grassed area. I had entered the park by a wooden bridge and was in time to see Kimba being released from her lead and literally take off into mid air to follow a ball. Every muscle was stretched in the effort and the enjoyment of the freedom was really obvious.

Her owner kept to the pathway and we had a chat for quite a few minutes. Kimba came to join us and sat with the ball between her feet as she rested and listened to us. Then it was time for exercise to resume for all of us and we parted.

What a magnificent coat. I could do with one like that in winter.

Out of sight, out of mind


Declaration: This is a very long post.

John’s arrival into this world on a bitter February Day was not without difficulty. He weighed less than 1 Kilo, and his mother Clara was very ill at the time of his birth. Since this was 1920 there were no intensive care units, incubators or drips, etc. It was survival of the fittest.

The Midwife told Clara to “Have the child christened quick, as he was not long for this world”. Clara being so ill, she was unable to look after her first born and only child. She left his care to her sister Ellen, who took him home and as he was so frail and small, she removed a drawer from a chest of drawers and made a bed in it for John. He stayed with his Aunt for three or four months while his mother made a slow recovery.

His return home was not for long as Clara became ill again when John was 9 months old. It was back once more to Aunt Ellen’s for another long spell. Ellen with her husband Jim had a daughter Alice who was three years of age at that time. John forged a bond with this new family that lasted all his days. Ellen’s death occurred in her 103rd year, just 12 months before John died.

John finally returned to Blake’s Buildings the home of his Father and Mother. John’s father, Tom, was a coal miner as were most of the men in the family back through the generations.

No.1 Blake’s Buildings was an end of terrace house in a Mining Village in the North East of England. The house consisted of 2 bedrooms and a living room cum Kitchen. Water was carried from a tap in the yard. Coal was free for miner’s families, and the range supplied heat for the household, an oven for cooking, and where water was heated for washing dishes and for the Pitman’s bath.

There were no Pithead baths, so the miners returned home each day covered in a layer of coal dust. A tin bath was placed in front of the fire and the water boiled to fill it. In summer it would be in the yard.Clara had to scrub Tom’s back with Lifebuoy Soap to get rid of the Coal Dust.

Sample picture and not my in-laws

Oil and candles were used for light until electricity came to the village in the 1930’s. With only the Range for heat in the house, the bedrooms were not the most comfortable. Carpets on the floor were unheard of and the cold of the Linoleum underfoot would send shivers right through you. The frost on the window panes in winter was on the inside. The toilet was outside in the yard and there was no light in it.

The marriage certificate dated 18th August 1918 states that Clara was a Spinster and a shop assistant, Tom was a Batchelor, L/Corporal 3rd division of the Durham Light Infantry brackets (coal miner). They were both aged 21. Tom had survived his time in Arras, France during the World War One. So it was back from the darkness of war to the darkness of the mines.

Life for a mining family was tough in those days. Conditions were poor, no insurance against accident or industrial clothing. One day after school, John was at his homework while his mother went over to see his Grandmother who lived close by, there was a knock on the door and a couple of men from the mine asked if this was where Tom Parker lived.

“Yes!” said young John, adding “He is due home in a couple of minutes if you want to come in and wait for him” “We have him here” said the miner, pointing to a stretcher. Tom had been injured in a rock fall in the mine. They took Tom indoors and John ran to his Gran’s house to fetch his mother.

Each miner had a ‘Button’ or identity disc which he handed in at the beginning of a shift and collected when he returned to ground level. These buttons were collected and checked when disaster hit a mine and sometimes this was the only way they knew who was lost in an accident.

The miners worked in teams over a three week cycle. The coal seams were of three types. The best were dry and where the men could move and work freely in a standing position. This enabled them to cut plenty of coal so the wage was good for three weeks. The next type was worked in a sitting position and the third was hated as the men crawled along the seam and worked lying down. It was harder to produce coal in this position so the wage was much lower. If the seams were wet, the men were wet, the cold making the work more difficult and production lower.

John grew up a happy and healthy young lad, when not at home he was to be found at his Aunt Ellen’s. In fact it was his Aunt Ellen who chastised or corrected him when needed and not his own mother. Saturday nights were spent playing cards with his aunts, uncles and grandparents.

Clara was determined that ‘No son of hers would go down the mine’, so at 14 years of age John was job hunting.

He applied for a job in a local grocery shop and there were 3 applicants! Can you believe it Only Three Applicants! John was accurate and quick with mental arithmetic so the job became his. He was always tidy, punctual, cheerful and helpful and was well liked by all the customers. He often said “What I learned in that shop served me well all my days!”

After a year with an eye to new experience and more wages, he moved to work at a bakery 10 miles away. There was no public transport between the villages at that time, so he cycled to and from work each day. He was ready to begin at 7am. During the dark harsh winter months he lodged with the Bakery Manager’s family.

He saved his money and bought a motor cycle. He and two friends travelled about on their motorbikes and one year managed to go as far as Blackpool on the West Coast of England, for one week’s holiday. He was allowed to attend the local dances so long as his cousin Alice was with him. Aunt Ellen always quizzed Alice about ‘Our John’s’ behaviour.

When John was 17 the family moved from Blake’s Buildings to a new house at the other end of the village. This move made life easier for Clara. The house was semi-detached with 2 bedrooms, a living room, separate Kitchen, bathroom and indoor toilet. It had a garage and garden on three sides.

John saved his money and replaced the motorbike with a car, which was his pride and joy. It was a Morris 8 in maroon and black. He was always proud of the fact that there were only two other cars in the village at that time. The Doctor had one and the Solicitor had the other. He took his mother about to the surrounding towns in the car to shop and this pleased her very much.

Morris 8

Life for John was on an even keel until the outbreak of war. In 1940 he joined the Forces. In later life he teased that he joined up, so that he might have a choice of the softer boots in the Air Force. Had he waited he would have been conscripted and have no choice about which branch of the forces he was sent to.

The treasured Morris 8 was put up on blocks and John’s father was shown how to start the engine on a regular basis to keep everything in order.

John’s war took him on a World tour. After his initial training in various bases in England he spent a couple of months in Limavady, Northern Ireland. While there he met and fell in love with the girl who was later to become his first wife. All too soon he was sent abroad. He spoke with affection of a Christmas day spent on the beach in Durban, South Africa. Then came the real work, he was sent to India & Ceylon – now known as Sri Lanka.
His letters home were censored and his parents did not know for months on end where he was.

The final part of John’s war was in Burma – now known as Myanmar – where he was badly injured. His left leg was completely shattered and he lost 60% of his bone marrow. His homeward journey by ship took six weeks and was an experience not to be relived. Those ships were often referred to as coffin or suicide ships. Many a young man jumped overboard to avoid having to face a wife or family with only half a face or a shattered body.

The remainder of John’s war was spent in hospital. Amputation of his leg at hip level was suggested but John fought hard against it.

Bone was taken from his hip, very experimental surgery in those days, to build a bridge over the shattered bone in his leg. He was then put in plaster from his armpits to his left foot. He had two positions: either lying on his back or on his front; he was left in plaster like this for 14 months.

When the plaster was finally removed his left leg was almost 2 inches shorter than the right one and the knee would not move. Traction was tried for three weeks to force the knee to bend but it was not a success. (You have to remember that this was all experimental work back then, long before the micro surgery of today. Nowadays they replace hips and have you home in two or three days.)

Then followed a long spell of convalescence re-learning to walk.

John’s hospitalisation was in Sleaford, Lincolnshire; one hundred and fifty odd miles away from his home in County Durham. Today it would take over 3½ hours, the roads are much better, but back then John’s parents did not drive, his father was working and they were unable to make regular visits.

He was finally discharged from the Forces in 1947, seven years after he joined up. Home he came wearing the thick chalked striped demob suit. He carried the effects of war for the remainder of his life without complaint or a grumble.

All during the war the young soldiers, sailors and airmen were given pocket money when away on duty while their wages were paid to their wives if they were married. John had his wage paid to his mother and she chose to bank it for him. The sale of his treasured car and the money in the bank served as a good deposit for a house when he was discharged. He did need to borrow £200 pounds and his mother thought he was putting a noose around his neck borrowing such a large sum of money.

At this stage John married the young lady from Northern Ireland. He returned to life at the bakery for another 10 years working all the extra hours he could manage in order to pay off the loan. He described going to the bank with his £200 tucked under his arm, wrapped in brown paper. John learned to drive again, garden, paint, and climb ladders balancing on his right leg, you name it he tried it. Defeat was not a word in John’s Lexicon. No matter what trouble came his way, he could be heard to say: “Sure it could be worse, I might have had only one leg”!

In 1957 he changed jobs to work for an American Food Company as a sales Rep covering a territory on the outskirts of Newcastle upon Tyne. It was what they called a ‘Foot Patch’ walking from corner shop to corner shop. In those days all the reps had to wear a suit, full length overcoat, trilby hat and gloves! After a couple of years he had the opportunity to move to the Belfast Branch at an increase of £1.00 per week, making his weekly pay £11.00. His wife was really pleased as she would once again be near her siblings.

A car came with the job in Belfast as the patch covered Co. Antrim and Co Down. The car was basic with no window washers or heater. John told the story of keeping a liquid soap container filled with water to clean the windscreen. This involved opening the window and squirting the liquid onto the windscreen while he was driving along.

I mentioned the lack of heating in the car. John told the story of a reps meeting one winter Friday afternoon. He was sitting in the office waiting for things to start when one of the other reps came into the room and sat opposite him. John was always very observant and noticed that this other man’s striped pyjamas were showing below the hem of his trouser legs when he sat down. He was wearing them to try and keep heat in his legs.

The move to Belfast was not all sunshine and roses for John, his parents came for a holiday, a first visit to Ireland, his mother had a stroke and died one week later. His father died within a year and his wife developed cancer. He nursed & cared for her while trying to keep his job going but eventually she died. After a year or so he remarried but fate intervened and cancer raised its ugly head again. John again nursed and cared for his second wife until her end came.

Four deaths in ten years was more than enough to break the spirit of many a strong man, but John did not wallow in pity. He lifted his head and faced the world and once again found love and married.

A year after this third marriage he received his reward, at an age in life when most men were becoming grandfathers; John became a father for the very first time. He and his wife had a beautiful daughter a miniature version of his mother. This wondrous treasure brought a new sparkle to his eye and a spring to his step. She looks like her father and has his quick mind and caring nature. She was ‘The Good Wine’ at the feast that was his life. May she always know inner peace and contentment!

At this stage you will all know John as Jack the wonderful man I was fortunate to know and love and Elly is the ‘The Good Wine’ in my life too.

This post was originally in the form of two free online Podcasts, posted in March 2007. They have since expired and been deleted. Fortunately I still had the story in text form, and chose to share it in one episode today.

Fifteen years ago yesterday, Jack lost his last battle. The horrible curse that cancer is, took him from us.

I have moved on, picked up the pieces, rediscovered the taste of food, to smell the roses, hear the music and even become engrossed in sewing or reading. It is a very different life. I do laugh plenty and have met and come to know some wonderful people.

It will never be a case of Out of sight, out of mind, the topic chosen this week by Will Knott for the weekly LBC outing.

Now I have kept you long enough, time to whiz on round to see how our other active members tackle the subject. Delirious, Maxi, Maria/Gaelikaa, Maria SilverFox, Padmum, Ramana, Shackman speaks, The Old Fossil, Will Knott.

Thursday Special ~ Nice Excuse

A fellow bought a new Mercedes and took it out on the highway for a nice Friday evening drive. The top was down, the breeze was blowing through what was left of his hair and he decided to open her up.

As the needle jumped up to 80 mph, he suddenly saw flashing red and blue lights behind him.

“There’s no way they can catch a Mercedes,” he thought to himself and opened her up further.

The needle hit 90, 100…. Then the reality of the situation hit him.

“What in the heck am I doing?” he thought and pulled over.

The cop came up to him, took his license without a word and examined it and the car.

“It’s been a long week, this is the end of my shift and I’m tired. I don’t feel like more paperwork, so if you can give me an excuse for your driving that I haven’t heard before, you can go.”

The guy thinks for a second and says, “Last week my wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to give her back!”

“Have a nice weekend,” said the officer.




Thanks to Frank for this speedy little number.

Just Because…..

When I’m an old lady

When I’m an old lady, I’ll live with each kid,
And bring so much happiness…just as they did.
I want to pay back all the joy they’ve provided.
Returning each deed! Oh, they’ll be so excited!
(When I’m an old lady and live with my kids)

I’ll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues,
And I’ll bounce on the furniture…wearing my shoes.
I’ll drink from the carton and then leave it out.
I’ll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they’ll shout!
(When I’m an old lady and live with my kids)

When they’re on the phone and just out of reach,
I’ll get into things like sugar and bleach.
Oh, they’ll snap their fingers and then shake their head,
(When I’m an old lady and live with my kids)

When they cook dinner and call me to eat,
I’ll not eat my green beans or salad or meat,
I’ll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table,
And when they get angry…I’ll run…if I’m able!
(When I’m an old lady and live with my kids)

I’ll sit close to the TV, through the channels I’ll click,
I’ll cross both eyes just to see if they stick.
I’ll take off my socks and throw one away,
And play in the mud ’til the end of the day!
(When I’m an old lady and live with my kids)

And later in bed, I’ll lay back and sigh,
I’ll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes.
My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping,
And say with a groan, “She’s so sweet when she’s sleeping!”
~ Joanne Bailey Baxter

You would almost feel sorry for Elly. Now wouldn’t you? 😛

The Skip

Veronica has spent most of the past half century in coupledom.  Now she was at that stage in life where friends were dropping with morbid regularity.  A time or two it was the female side of the couple that collapsed suddenly, never to rise again, or was attacked by the silent killer – Ovarian cancer.  However, for the most part it was the husbands who were felled by heart and lung disease, strokes or the big C.

I met Veronica and her husband for lunch a couple of months ago.  Our meeting for lunch or coffee was as regular as the seasons, never a rushed affair, in fact at times morning coffee became the appetiser for the day ahead. There were days when we drank the coffee shop dry before heading for a walk in a park or country estate, only returning in time to have a late lunch.

We covered the hatches and matches before moving to the ‘new loves’ and the ‘new jobs’ happening in our circles.  We were ready to indulge in dessert before we reached the recently dispatched.  Thankfully I had no fallen leaves to report that day.

Somehow the conversation moved round to The Skip.

“The Skip was a little game.” Veronica told me, that she  played with her friend Lynne. The girls were next door neighbours since the first fresh coat of paint adorned their front doors and months before tiny blades of grass burst from the seeds in their newly laid lawns. Conversations were across the fence in summer, or indoor by the fire with a coffee, in the bleak dark days of winter. Over the years they shared the ups and downs of raising a family, and were there to lend a helping hand when needed. Local news was shared and the Skip was now becoming a regular subject.

This time it was a neighbour in the avenue with a bright new red disposal skip sitting on the pavement outside the house. Behind the blinds, Susie was having a major clear-out and the hiring of a skip for a week was the easiest way to rid the house of the clutter & useless items accumulated in the attics and other rooms over half a century. “How can one family acquire such an assortment of oddments in the one pile of bricks?” Susie wondered.

Veronica & Lynne saw the filling of a skip, almost as a mark of disrespect. A clearing away of a lifetimes memories. As Lynne had said, “It was eliminating a husband from memory and relegating the marriage to the skip!” In this case, they only met Susie’s husband Matt, a couple of times a year at neighbourhood gatherings and found him to be a warm fun person. “How could Susie rid her life of all the shared past”?

They had no idea.

Both were still settled in that safe comfortable cocoon of having an anam cara or soul mate, to begin and end the day with. Someone to share worries as well as the happy times and the laughter. Their families now married, and moved on to build their own dynasties.

Susie’s five children were on that same course and she was now left to rattle around in the echoing empty house. Echoes, louder now, of happier, brighter & better days, as if to taunt her and exaggerate the emptiness. Being alone was not her choice, marriage to Matt was fun, with the years they had become like a pair of comfortable well worn kid gloves. Every room held reminders of those happy times with her beloved cheerful positive Matt.

A sudden thud silenced his singing, and Susie found him slumped on the floor. He was gone. No doubt about it.

Six months down the line she still shivered as she thought about it. There was no time for good byes, no last hug. She wished….!

“Wishing was a waste of time now, better to get on with the task in hand and keep busy.” she scolded.

Matt was a hoarder, every nut, bolt and screw that he found or removed from a defunct item was in a tin box in the den. Tiny fuses, obsolete fairy-light bulbs, puncture repair kits, washers & Allen keys sat neglected and covered in dust. A bundle of well thumbed and dog eared magazines for a hobby he never pursued. Tea chests of school notes and marked exam papers, from a lifetime as a school teacher and head of department. On and on it went…

Susie was not enjoying the task, but at least by the end of each day, she fell exhausted into the lonely bed and let sleep take over for a few short hours. Waking to the cold empty space beside her was heart breaking, even a pillow stretched down the centre of the bed brought no comfort.

Cooking for one was soul destroying, but she tried to have at least one good meal in the day. Her taste was gone and with it her ability to smell the roses, hear the music or even become engrossed in a book. She had the attention span of an itchy gnat! She had to keep battling on, or she would sink into the great black abyss of despair. Matt would not want that to happen. Neither did she.

One more box and three rooms were ready to begin stripping the wallpaper. They had talked and planned to redecorate when the lads moved out, but somehow something always got in the way. Susie actually found a half dozen rolls of wallpaper in a bag at the back of a cupboard, it must have been there for at least five years. She no longer knew which room it was intended for, but she would use it for this first foray into solo decorating.

Rollo May said “Courage is not the absence of despair; it is, rather, the capacity to move ahead in spite of despair.” Susie agreed. She would not allow the great black hole win, that would be an insult to Matt’s memory.

Turning up the music and rolling up her sleeves , she began scraping the old and faded wallpaper to the tempo of the sounds in her ears.

Matt would be proud of her!

Food Monday ~ Pulled Pork

Over recent months I have become aware of menus and recipes suggesting pulled pork. I have to admit to being rather slow to go and investigate further.  Back in February, a freebie magazine in Asda, caught my eye and since I was about to go home for my morning coffee, I added a copy to browse through with my sticky bun.

You can imagine my horror when I turned a page and my eyes were assaulted with this:

Photo of cooked port joint taken from Asda website.

“Who hacked the joint of meat?” was my first thought, quickly closing the magazine in case mammy was looking over my shoulder. I can still feel the rap on my knuckles as my hand went to pick off the half dislodged crispy corner of a joint, just as mammy was about to carve it.

After several weeks, I decided to give it a try and for once in my life, follow the recipe in the magazine…. Well almost!

Pulled Pork

2 teaspoons Smoked Paprika
1 level teaspoon Mild Chilli Powder
1 level teaspoon Mustard Powder
½ teaspoon Table Salt
1 teaspoon onion granules
1 tablespoon Sunflower Oil

1.5 kg Pork Shoulder
500 ml Cider

Mix together the first six ingredients. Rub it all over the meat, but not the skin. Put it in a dish, skin-side up. Cover loosely with food wrap and refrigerate for at least an hour.

Preheat the oven to 160°C.
Put the pork in a roasting tin, skin side up, and pour the cider round the meat.
Cover the tin with foil and then seal the foil to the tin edges, leaving enough room for air to circulate.
Cook in the oven for 3½ hours.
Remove the foil, increase the oven temperature to 200°C and cook uncovered for a further 30 minutes.
Pull the pork into shreds – the meat will be meltingly tender now.


Since the meat was supposed to be ‘meltingly tender’ read, ready to fall apart, I decided to use the slow cooker instead of the oven. I reduced the cider by half, left out the onion granules, but added the last half of a jar of Apple chutney with flame roasted tomato & garlic – about 100-150g.

I was up late that particular night, so set the meat into the slow-cooker at midnight, on the low setting, and off I went to my bed.  I left it alone until the middle of the afternoon, checking it at about 3pm. It was well cooked, so I switched off and removed the inner dish to a trivet to allow it to cool slightly.

There was more than enough for one sitting, so the first night I did as suggested – attacked one end with two forks. Once cold, I sliced the remainder with a carving knife….. I like my food to look neat.

I would try it again… in a few months, but with other spices and perhaps a different brand of cider.

A tiny miracle

I slept!

I settled down at midnight and came too at 8 25am!  08:25 in the morning.

A first for me since about year-end 1991. The only trouble is that I still feel sleepy and if I am not careful, I might drift off again.

Now breakfast here I come…. Pity I have to make it myself. 🙁

Photographing the Alphabet ~ J

J ~ Jugs & Jars

Jugs in different shapes, sizes, & colours

Preserving jars

Preserve jars all ready to be filled with a colourful collection of the following

Slow Peppers, Red-Onion Relish, Beetroot Pickle or for something sweet….
Lemon Curd.

Now be patient and I will supply the beetroot and lemon curd recipes in future Food Mondays.