Family

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Aunty Betty

Today was the funeral of Aunty Betty, at which I wrote and read the eulogy with memories of her life. Here’s what was said:

Asked to talk about Betty, I had a chat with Sandra, David and Sue about Betty’s life and it was revelatory – I discovered lots of things about Betty from before I was born, that I had no idea about, and what a joy this has been.

It’s hard to think of Betty without thinking two things. 1 – Cockney. 2 – Fun. 

Betty spent her childhood years in London, on Carey Street, just behind the Law Courts, and she never forgot her roots. When my brother Rob got married in London, about 18 years ago, she took Sandra to see all her old haunts, reveling in the memories of time past. I’m told there’s a letter somewhere from King George VI, congratulating Betty for staying in London and at school during the war.  

She married my uncle John in 1961 at Caxton Hall in Westminster, which is where all the famous people got wed, people like Liz Taylor, Joan Collins, Ringo Starr and Barry Gibb all tied the knot there. She was 23. I’ve seen pictures from this time of she and John, him looking dashing in his Grenedier Guard uniform, she looking swish in her fashionable fit and flare dress. You know that a night out with them would have been the best fun. They went to coffee bars in Soho, once taking my Mum Liz with them, hoping to bump into the celebrities of the day like Billy Fury. 

And I wonder what on earth must it have been for this girl about town to move to the country, to Worcestershire, starting married life on a farm, for this is what she did. Sandra came along in 1963 and David in 1965. The coffee bars of Soho was replaced by a milking parlours of Malvern. Both Sandra and David remember the endless rice puddings that Betty produced when John came home every day with raw milk, straight from the cows, after the morning milking. Once John left that job she swore she would never make another rice pudding ever again.

Sandra remembers a tale when Betty took a lift back to London with her friend Colin, who happened to be working on the M5 building bridges. Once on Oxford Street the tail board fell off the back of his lorry, holding up all the traffic. Betty and Colin had to put the board back on, laughing and giggling at the mayhem they caused.

Betty was a real people person. Team games were her thing, and she was a key member of the local darts team, and loved a bit of skittles too. She helped to arrange street parties and carnivals, roping in John in his lorry to drive the carnival float. She also had a strong group of girlfriends – ‘the girls’ she called them – who regularly went out for lunches and weekends away.

Betty also loved a joke and I think she met her match in my Uncle John. An example: One Christmas, a year when my Nan spent Christmas day at their house, John wanted to have his tea early for some reason, maybe there’s something on the TV that he wanted to watch, but Betty said no. She then went out to take the dog for a walk. Whilst she’s out John put the clock forward by an hour. When Betty gets back she was none the wiser, just thought blimey that was a long walk. So he got his tea early, and it took Betty a few days to realise what he’s done!

In the early 1980s, during the Falklands war, Betty left her catering job and became a military driver, so she could do her bit for the country. David and Sandra, teenagers at The Chase at the time, wouldn’t see their mum for days as she was up at 4am ferrying important people from the military around the country, often taking them to GCHQ in Cheltenham. 

Intrepid Betty, in her American tan tights and high heeled shoes, had to learn how to check under her vehicle for bombs, do maintenance of her vans, plot journeys and, presumably, keep quiet about her work……which may be been a challenge for Betty because you ALWAYS knew she was there. 

Looking at the family of Betty, John, Sandra and David from the point of view of niece and cousin, the word that springs to mind is warmth.  These are such a warm group of people. You might call them game. When Sandra and David got motorbikes as young adults, obviously to begin with the parents lost their mind, but after they came round they both had a go. 

John crashed David’s little Honda into the back fence, and Betty would sometimes ride on the back of Sandra’s massive bike, except of course Betty was so short that Sandra had to have the thing practically horizontal before she could fit onto it.

John sadly passed away in 2001, and I saw a transformation in Betty. She grieved, of course, and then after a year or so, she became this adventurer, a world traveller. She called these trips her SKI holidays, SKI meaning Spending the Kids Inheritence.

She drove across America with her friends and I remember meeting her and my sister-in-law Anu in New York, where we went to the restaurant of the amazing chef and food writer Anthony Bordain. I was quite overwhelmed at being in this temple of gastronomy and literature, but not a bit of it for Betty – she was the life of the party. Rob, my brother, also took her out to various bars in Manhattan and they had a great time. 

She took a cruise in the Caribbean and plenty of coach trips around the UK. Her suitcase was always full of fancy dress supplies, because as we all know, Betty was always up for a laugh and a party, particularly if there was fancy dress involved. 

On holiday with Sandra and Richard one year, she stole a ride on Richard’s pushbike, ending up in a bush. In Dunoon in Scotland, she got stuck in a lift. Where there was Betty, there was laughter.

Betty adored her family and was a wife, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She idolised her grandson Richard, and adored Ruby, his daughter. Not many people can say that they spent time with their Great-grandmother, but Ruby can.  

In her later years she had a wonderful carer, Rachel, who Betty adored – and Rachel I know that Sandra, David and Sue wish to extend their gratitude to you for the care and love that you gave to Betty whilst you were together. I’m told that Rachel would take Betty to M&S, where they would have lunch and try on silly hats and sunglasses, taking selfies of their antics. After Lockdown, when Betty was able to go back to Marks, the staff cheered and clapped to see them return. 

Betty loved life and people, and they loved her.

I will finish with a message from my brother Stu, who can’t be here today, which I will quote verbatim: I remember Betty always being sweet. She always made a point of listening, which when you’re a kid seemed pretty rare.

Stu’s now in his mid-40s and the fact he can remember this feeling from childhood strikes me as being pretty special. 

After today’s service we’re going to the Green Dragon, home of many a Darts evening, which happens to be on the stretch of road where John taught Betty how to drive in a green Cortina with David and Sandra in the back, no doubt quaking with fear. 

I suggest that we raise a Bacardi and coke, or a tea with no sugar, because as Betty used to say, she’s sweet enough, and say thank you Betty, for bringing your infectious Cockney spirit to bring joy to our days. 

Rest in laughter, dear Betty.

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Ice cream, she Mumbles

Allotmenting – and cooking for that matter – has taken a back seat for the last few weeks. After the storms blew over the best of the sunflowers and dahlias, I lost heart a little, and since then my time has been taken up with work (meetings now happening IN REAL LIFE! which is exciting but also exhausting after so long not seeing anyone), Harry’s birthday and a trip down to the Gower. Maybe it’s normal to get an energy dip at this time of year, with the days shortening and the light beginning to dim. But then this weekend the sun has come out and I realise that we’re not quite done with the season just yet – look at this basket of colour, harvested yesterday.

This week’s flower haul: dahlias, cosmos, sunflower, zinnia, chrysanthemum and dill

Once or twice a week I am gathering a flower haul like this, with multiple colours and shapes of dahlias, cosmos, sunflower, zinnia and chrysanthemum, and today I also added a few sprigs of lime-yellow dill to the basket. I place them in multiple vases in the dining room, the more clashing shades the better.

I place them in multiple vases in the dining room

This week Harry turned three, with not one but two birthday parties (in Corona-times we have to limit the numbers of people who can get together at once). I did consider making one of those 3D ambitious Thomas the Tank Engine cakes but sanity took over, and I stuck to the good old-fashioned chocolate tray bake with chocolate fingers and 100s and 1000s. To be clear, no matter how small the number of guests, a child’s birthday party is TIRING. I am deeply looking forward to Monday and a rest.

Harry’s small but fun birthday tea

But onto the ice cream referenced in the title. Last weekend we were in Mumbles at the edge of the Gower peninsula, hoping for a few days of peaceful rejuvenation amidst the sea air. Not a bit of it: in the six months since he last saw a beach, Harry has morphed from sand-phobic to CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF IT. I am rapidly having to rethink how we approach our forthcoming autumnal Cornwall holiday, for the usual cagoule-and-welly 30 minute beach experience is looking like it will become a full-day-outer needing buckets, spades, windbreaks, wet suits and thermos.

Afternoon light on the Gower
Sand meets sea meets sky on Rosilli beach

When one is knackered, and on holiday, there is always the promise of ice cream to keep energy levels up. And baked goods. And my goodness, do the Welsh deliver on the ice cream front. Verdi’s, on the Mumbles seafront, is an Italian cafe institution, serving up ice cream sundaes, semi-freddo cakes, custard slices (of which the Welsh are particularly partial, they were a regular feature in cafes) and proper coffee.

Ice cream sundaes, semi-freddo cake and cappuccino at Verdi’s

In fact, there are Italian-style cafes and ice cream parlours dotted across the Gower, and a little research tells me that this is A Thing. In the first half of the 20th century, immigrants from the small town of Bardi in the northern Italian mountains settled across South Wales, bringing cafe culture with them – and whilst many of these institutions have now closed, a few have stuck in out, passing businesses (and recipes) down the generations. This BBC article has more but what I would really like to do is take a road trip through the valleys, slurping my way through cappuccinos and gelatos, to find the true spirit of these independent Italian superstars for myself.

Also this week:
Harvesting: Cavolo nero, a scant handful of beans, raspberries, dahlias, chrysanthemum, cosmos, sunflowers, dill, zinnia. Also: Stripped back leaves from the bush tomatoes to let some light in, hoping for a few to ripen.

Cooking and eating: Birthday tea 1: chocolate cake, smoked salmon blinis, sausage rolls. Birthday tea 2: Full Tamworth buffet spread, my contribution was a mac and cheese with leeks and bacon and chicken wings marinated in yoghurt and ras al hanout. Baked porridge oats with blueberries, raspberries and coconut. Semi-freddo cake and ice cream sundaes at Verdi’s. Fresh mackerel and sardines bought from the fishmonger in Mumbles, butterflied and grilled, with fresh bread, salad and laverbread. Squishy focaccia sandwiches and chelsea buns from the Mumbles bakery.

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Jean’s apple plate pie

Matt comes from a family of home-bakers. I’ve written before about how Granny used to make hundreds and hundreds of mince pies at Christmas, selling them to friends and neighbours. Her skills extended to apple pie too – the apple trees in their garden (presumably planted by Grampy) produced a massive crop and so Granny would turn the windfalls into foil-wrapped bakes that she supplied to her loyal following of customers.

Granny and Grampy’s house – note the apple trees and rows of chrysanthemums at the back

Matt’s family playing next to those amazing apple trees. Granny is wearing the blue cardigan.

Granny passed away in 2017, and her house and the apple trees are now sold, but her apple legacy lives on. Matt’s Mum, Jean, carries on the tradition with her perfect, melt-in-the-mouth apple plate pie. She made one at Christmas which Harry practically inhaled, it was so good, and I couldn’t help but compare this masterclass of good, old-fashioned pastry work with my rather clunky attempts. Plate pies are uncommon now, with restaurants and bakeries seeming to prefer the deep-dish American-style pie. If I make an apple pie it’s always deep, and the all-butter pastry that I make is tasty but prone to shrinking and can easily teeter over the edge to toughness. Jean’s pastry (and my Mum’s, come to that), remains crumbly and light. “What’s the secret?”, I asked.

Jean’s perfect pie

Jean replied: “The answer is lard. And margarine.” Marg! I can not remember the last time I had a block of margarine in my fridge. But then I recalled that at school, I was taught to make shortcrust with the combination of lard and margarine, NEVER butter. I had to think that the older generation of bakers may be onto something. And so, in the spirit of honouring the wisdom of our fore-mothers, I decided to have a go at making the famous Apple Plate Pie.

Jean explained that she used the ratio of half-fat to flour in her pastry, and that the fat is 50% lard and 50% Stork. So for one pie, she would use 12oz of flour, 3oz lard and 3oz Stork. In modern language that’s 300g flour, 75g lard and 75g Stork. Incidentally she also texted that I should use self-raising flour, which I instantly forgot, so I used plain. Simply whizz the flour with the cold fat in a food processor until thoroughly combined. This step is important – I have always rubbed fat into flour using my fingers in some mis-guided attempt at authenticity, but it leads to uneven lumps of fat that make for flaky, rather than short, pastry. The food processor gives a far superior result.

Blitz plain flour with Stork margarine and lard, using the food processor

Jean never uses the food processor to mix the water, preferring to use the classic round-knife method. So turn the mixture out into a bowl, add a few tablespoons of cold water and cut in with a table knife. (If you’ve got one of those knives with the white, faux-ivory handle, so much the better.) Once the mixture looks claggy then use your hands to bring it to a dough. It comes together in seconds. Give the pastry a very subtle knead to ensure everything is combined, then flatten out and put to one side. Jean usually uses her pastry straight away but I prefer to chill mine while I make the filling.

Cut cold water in with a round-edged knife and mix to a dough, then flatten and chill

On to the filling. Bramley apples are the thing to use – although one of mine was rotten inside so I substituted a few Braeburns, which turned out just fine. Peel, core and then slice the apples into chunky slices – if you want a smoother filling, like Granny used to, just slice the apples more finely. Two big bramleys should be sufficient for one pie, or 1 bramley and 2 smaller eating apples.

Meanwhile, prepare the filling – chop a few bramley apples to coarse slices

Pile the fruit into a pan with a tablespoon of sugar, a tablespoon or two of water, then cook over a low heat until pulpy. Give it a taste and if it needs more sugar, add it now.

Cook the apples with sugar and water until pulpy

Remove the apples from the heat and chill for half an hour or so, until cool. I’ve learnt from previous disasters to never put hot fruit on cold pastry so trust me on this one – apples in the fridge. My apples cooked down into a dry-ish pulp but if they turn out very wet, use a slotted spoon to remove the bulk of the fruit from the water.

Chill the finished apple filling

Now we make the pie. Pre-heat the oven to 180c and find yourself an ovenproof plate, about 20cm/8inches in diameter. I use a pleasingly retro white enamel one. There’s no need to grease the plate. Slice the pastry in half, then roll out the first half into a circle large enough to cover your plate. Lay it on the plate and lightly mould down the sides and edges.

Roll out the pastry to cover the base of an 8-inch oven-proof plate

Spread the apple filling on top. Don’t over fill here – any leftover fruit can be used for something else. Keep the fruit level with the sides of the plate, no higher.

Spread your chilled filling on top

Roll out the remaining pastry and place on top. Use your thumbs to press the pastry edges together, then use a sharp knife to trim the edges. Finally, slit a small hole in the centre to allow the steam to escape. Neither Jean nor Granny ever glaze their pie, so I didn’t either.

Cover with remaining pastry, seal and cut a steam vent in the middle

Bake at 180c for about 40 minutes until golden and obviously cooked through. When done remove from the oven and immediately sprinkle with caster sugar, then leave to cool slightly. Any leftover pastry can be used to make tarts, turnovers, cheese straws, cinnamon straws….whatever you fancy.

Bake at 180c for about 40 minutes or until golden, then dust with caster sugar. Use any leftover pastry for tarts or pasties! (Apologies for bad light…the finished pie was not ready until night-time)

The verdict? Excellent attempt! This is the best pastry I’ve made in years. I’m not saying it’s up there with Granny or Jean’s version, but I’m pleased with my efforts. It’s very important to me to take a family tradition and introduce it to my son, even if I’m not a Foster. My mum also makes plate pies though hers tend to have redcurrants in them – for me, this simple, comforting pudding is the taste of Sundays, Desert Island Discs and Antiques Roadshow. Food is such an important part of how families, and memories, are made.

Apple Plate Pie

Makes 1 20cm / 8inch pie

300g plain flour
75g lard
75g margarine (I use Stork)
cold water
2 large bramley apples or 1 bramley and 2 eating apples such as braeburn
caster sugar

To make the pastry, blitz the flour, lard and margarine in a food processor until thoroughly combined. Tip into a bowl. Add a few tablespoons of cold water and draw together with a blunt-edged knife until claggy – add more water as required. Bring the mixture together with your hands. Knead lightly to combine then press into a disk, wrap and refrigerate.

To make the filling, peel, core and slice the apples into thin slices. Tip into a pan with 2 tablespoons of water and 1 tablespoon sugar. Cook on a medium heat until pulpy. Taste and add more sugar if required. Chill for at least 30 minutes, until cool.

Preheat the oven to 180c and have ready your oven-proof plate. Roll out half the pastry and use to line the base of the plate. Spread the filling on top, until level with the sides of the plate. Roll out remaining pastry and place on top, sealing the edges with your fingers. Trip the edges with a sharp knife. Cut a vent hole in the top. (Use any remaining pastry to make tarts, cheese straws etc).

Bake for 40 minutes until golden. Sprinkle with caster sugar when hot. Serve hot or warm with cream, custard or ice cream.

Also this week:

Cooking and eating: Pheasant braised in spiced orange juice, baked sausage ragu pasta, beef bourguignon pie, go-to chocolate muffins.

Reading: The Nordic Baking Book by Magnus Nilsson, Today We Die A Little – the biography of Emile Zatopeck by Richard Askwith, a re-reading of The Light Years by Elizabeth Jane Howard for some Cazalet family escapism.

Also: Back to work properly after the pre-Christmas lull. Ordering this year’s cut flower and veg seeds. Using the NHS for my continued hand, foot & mouth issue and Matt’s dodgy chest.

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Golden days on windswept beaches

No words this week, just Cornwall honeymooning lovely-ness.

Actually I will add some words, as follows:

Eating and Cooking: An array of small plates at Prawn on the Lawn in Padstow including deep-fried oysters with garlic creme fraiche, and a lovely glass of Prosecco (am not normally keen). Plus over the course of the week also worked our way through two crabs, a steak and oyster pie (home-made), Buttermilk fudge, mussels at The Beach Hut at Watergate Bay, crab sandwiches and a pasty at the National Trust Cafe at Bedruthan, and a return visit for a cream tea, plus chips, more pasties, really good bread and a memorable viennese finger from the bakery in Polperro.

Reading: The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim, a favourite holiday read, plus Inviting Silence by Grunella Norris. Ordered a load of cookbooks to reinvigorate my home cooking, including PoTL Fish and Shellfish to Share, River Cottage Family Cookbook and Jamie Oliver’s Superfood Family Classics. Also ordered Real Gardens by Adam Frost, for some outdoorsing inspiration.

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Wedding flowers and wedding cake(s)

September began with parties and ended with a wedding! After a summer of growing, my cut flowers were OK (nothing special) but thankfully, I had a squad of growers watching my back. Step forward my Mum and Cousin Sue, who between them grew an entire FARM of blooms for our wedding displays. When I asked Sue to help out, back in April, I thought we’d have some pretty flowers that would be just fine, but what we ended up with was better than some professional florestry I’ve seen. I love that our wedding gave an opportunity for creative friends and family to shine.

Sue’s flowers, picked and conditioned, ready for transport

My offerings – not as impressive but still some colour and variety

Together with my Mum, Sue made up some incredible displays for tables and plinths, all using home-grown stems. Plus she made beautiful bouquets for myself and my two nieces, and some seriously impressive buttonhole work. Note the use of hops and clematis seed heads for a bit of country chic.

Sue fashioned the botton holes and bouquets

These exquisite displays were put together by Sue and my Mum

More table decorations

After the wedding the vases made a welcome addition to my back garden

If someone is thinking of doing their own wedding flowers I would say do it…but only if you have a talented team to do all the work. If I was arranging flowers at the same time as making sure the bar was in order and the caterers were OK and having my hair and make-up done, I would have collapsed in a heap. So all respect to Sue and my Mum for their extraordinary skills – I don’t use those words lightly; I couldn’t have asked for more on the floral front.

As someone who has never wanted a big wedding, let alone a bit formal wedding (ugh), it was important to me that we included as much of our normal life into the day as possible. Normal life in Bearwood means regular trips to Chandigarh sweet centre for samosa – THE best samosa in the region – and it gave us great joy to pile 300 onto MDF boards for after-ceremony snacks. 

The best samosa this side of the Punjab

My favourite picture of the day

Normal life also meant Matt messing about with massive bits of wood – this time by sticking our heads onto temporary exhibition walls – and me organising this event like any other work event that I’ve ever been involved in (cue production schedule, production budget, and various bits of tech).

Tres amusement

I digress. The other noteworthy creative skills were from our bakers, and in particular Helen Annetts (my work sister) with her epic allotment cake. I didn’t want a regular wedding cake so Helen “volunteered” to have a go at making a novelty cake – as it turned out, a brilliant centre piece to our table of cakes, generously brought along by our guests for the best pot-luck dessert table I’ve ever seen.

A room devoted to cake

Helen Annett’s allotment cake

Why have one cake when you can have 30?

So now we’re holed up in a farmhouse in Cornwall, looking forward to life getting back to normal and introducing Harry to the joy of October beaches and cream teas.

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Birthday cake

I am slowly getting used to the fact that summer has gone. I know we were all whinging about the heat but when the weather broke at end of July, I presumed it would be just a short break before normal 30c service resumed. It was not to be and now we’re in mid-September, wearing long trousers and socks (SOCKS!) and the heating has even been on for a few hours. Both the allotment and the back garden have got a bit shaggy and could do with a back-to-school tidy up. This may have to wait until October.

Sunflowers are nearing being out of my reach

The hops tower over everything

They’ve even infiltrated the sweet pea poles

The season’s shift means that new produce sits alongside the summer hangers-on. I stocked up with pears and apples at Clives the other week, and the freezer is now re-filled with my Mum’s excellent corn on the cob. The autumn raspberries have been brilliantly productive this year – got two big freezer bags of those – and the fridge is stuffed with beets, peppers, cavolo nero, courgettes (still) and beans (still). And the tomatoes! So many tomatoes – despite the fact that 50% of the plants totally failed.

Apple and pear season is here

Dad’s [smug] basket of produce

But onto more pressing matters. Harry is 1! 1! We have kept a human alive for a year with sanity (just about) intact, bank account (just about) intact and relationship intact (getting hitched so looks OK).

Harry is 1!

Birthday balloons

I made a rib roast as a special treat

Everyone knows the crazy lengths people go to now to make their children’s birthday cake. Google ‘1st birthday cake’ and you will see thousands of glorious bakes, each one suspiciously perfect and indicating to me that a nervous breakdown took place behind the scenes. And they’re all covered with sugar paste, which is (in my opinion) so disgusting and stupid expensive. Bugger that. So Harry’s birthday cake involved four things:

  1. Cake
  2. Buttercream
  3. Sweets
  4. Candles

The birthday cake

I went for a tray bake, as it’s easier to decorate and actually is also easier to cut up for a crowd. This one is surprisingly dense and chocolatey, so it keeps adults happy as well as the kids. I upped the quantities from the original recipe so that I could bake the cake in our massive roasting dish; use whichever quantities are right for your baking tray.

Easy to make, easy to bake, easy to slice. Sorted.

Birthday Cake
From Signe Johansen’s Scandilicious Baking

The first quantities are for a 20x30cm tray. Quantities in (brackets) are suitable for a 35x25cm tray.

5 (8) eggs (I always use large)
250g (375g) light brown muscavado sugar
75g (115g) dark chocolate
150g (225g) unsalted butter, melted
50g (75g) cocoa powder
60ml (90ml) strong coffee
100g (150g) creme fraiche (full fat)
3tbsp (5tbsp) milk
200g (300g) self-raising flour
tiny pinch fine salt

Icing:
150g (225g) unsalted butter
3tbsp (6 tbsp) cocoa powder
150g (225g) icing sugar
Squirt of vanilla paste or splash of vanilla extract
Milk to loosen
Sweets, chocolate and candles, to decorate

Preheat the oven to 170c and line your tin with baking parchment.

Melt the chocolate and butter together in a bowl set over simmering water, then leave to cool.

Sift the cocoa into a bowl, add the coffee and mix to a paste. Stir in the creme fruit and milk, to make a smooth mixture (it may need a quick whisk to get rid of lumps).

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar until you reach the ribbon stage – this may take in excess of 10 minutes. Use a hand-held mixer or table-top mixer.

Pour the chocolate mix into the side of the eggs, and whisk to combine. Do the same with the cocoa mixture. Finally, sift the flour in top with a tiny pinch of salt and fold in, using large metal spoon – you may want to do this in batches. Mix carefully until fully combined, keeping as much air in the batter as you can. Pour into the tray and bake for 25-30 minutes, until firm. Leave to cool completely before decorating.

To make the icing, soften the butter in the microwave for 10 seconds or until beatable. Using a hand-held whisk, beat the butter then sift in the icing sugar and cocoa – it will make a massive mess alas – and continue to whisk the hell out of it until smooth and fluffy. Add a splash of milk at this stage to make the icing softer (but don’t add it any earlier as you risk the lot splitting).

When ready, use a palette knife to spread the icing over the cake, then decorate as you see fit!

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Harry’s tips for happiness

Mummy bloggers abound at the moment and whilst I certainly am not wanting to join their  number, I can’t ignore that Harry has made his presence known in all areas of our life and it would be churlish not to record it. Some of this I could have foreseen – a supermarket shop never used to be so challenging before child – and some I hadn’t anticipated at all. Life has slowed down (despite still being very busy) and every day brings a new change, a new way of being as he becomes an actual new being. He turned nine months old yesterday and the metamorphoses from squealing, grumpy newborn to giggling, wriggling, grinning child is remarkable.

Smiley baby

People always comment to me how happy Harry is and it’s true, most of the time he has a massive smile on his face and is delighted with the world about him. I think there are lessons to be learnt here: as adults we over-complicate everything but the babies have got it sussed. And so here are Harry’s top 5 tips for contentedness:

1. Know when and where your next meal is coming from (and make it reasonably tasty & healthy)
Solid food is the best thing that ever happened to Harry. As long as he’s got three meals a day, plus two snacks and an evening bottle, he’s sorted. A late meal = misery. So Grown Ups, remember to eat your weetabix, make time for healthy snacks, and make sure you have a proper dinner. You will feel better about life, I promise.

2. Live in the moment
This one has fascinated me. Harry can stub his toe, or get fingers stuck in a drawer, and as soon as the immediate issue has been resolved – i.e. fingers have been freed – the wailing stops and he moves on to his next exploration. What a gift this is. Grown Ups: Let go of all the bad things that have happened to you; forget what should be or could be. Let it all go. Live in the moment and enjoy the freedom.

3. Live with curiosity
Every new room, place, toy, animal, mixing bowl, spoon, phone, etc etc, is a thing of wonder. Fingers are in drawers, arms are in flower beds, exploring this new and wondrous world we live in. Grown Ups: don’t forget to live with curiosity about the world around you. There is no such thing as boredom.

4. Get plenty of sleep
Ideally 13 hours plus three daytime cat naps. Grown Ups: Wouldn’t life just be better if we got more kip?

5. Expect everyone to be your friend
Harry meets everyone he meets, and I mean EVERYONE, with a massive massive smile. And unsurprisingly they all smile back. He expects people to be his friend and as a result they’re unfailingly nice to him. Grown Ups: a smile and a friendly attitude goes a long way in getting what you want in life.

So there we go. I’ve had 16 years of formal education, 16 years of professional development, 13 years of yoga, and here is a 9 month old baby with everything to teach. Never stop learning folks.

Yoga baby

Also this week:

Allotment: All the cut flowers are now planted out; we have a plantation of cosmos, sunflowers, sweet williams, dahlia, chrysanths, borage, cleome, zinnia and sweet peas. They’re all later than normal which is no bad thing, given that we’re after September wedding flowers. Without wanting to tempt fate, I think this year the allotment looks the most promising that it’s ever looked.

Harvesting: Lettuce, oregano, chives, strawberries, sweet william, lavender

Cooking: BBQ beef ribs, lots of salads with fake feta from the Halal shop, peaches and strawberries with yoghurt, pecan brownies, baby dal with spinach and coconut.

The sweet williams are now marvellous and smell divine

SaveSave

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Back to life

Now that it’s sunny and WARM, it feels as if the entire world has sprung back to life. Lightwoods Park is teeming with families at the weekends, the tinkling ice cream van decorates the streets and the back garden is lush green and dappled with light. After such a hard winter – particularly so with a newborn – I drink in the spring. It’s time for a party! We had a welcome-to-the-family gathering for Harry, which was a good excuse to make a huge party cake and bake a batch of Matt’s favourite sausage rolls.

Party fridge!

Party buffet!

Party boy!

Outside, we’ve been blessed with a few weeks of balmy blue skies. The trees have exploded into blossom, a few days of hot sun encouraging their expansion to fullness. On the allotment, the lilac has grown to encompass our shed and I pick an armful of purple heads for the vase – I know they won’t last, but they are too pretty and too abundant to ignore.

Finally, blue skies and blossom

Perfumed lilac overhanging the shed

An armful of lilac, honesty and wild carrot

Matt’s calmed down a little on the work front so this, coupled with the long sunny days, means we’ve found time for some remedial allotmenting. This weekend I amused myself pulling rhubarb and planting out chard whilst Matt saw to his hops and – fanfare – the hopolisk has risen again! The hop shoots are romping up the string, fat with vigour.

First picking of rhubarb

Hops on 1 May…

…and on 12 May with the hopolisk now erected

Matt’s also had fun erecting the bean poles. Every year I watch Monty Don faff around with his wigwam set-up and I wonder what he’s messing at – why have a wigwam when you can have a top-strengthened line of hazel, complete with geometric shadows?! Happily the cold winter seems to have kept the slug population in check so, unlike last year, I’m pretty confident of growing some healthy plants this summer.

Bean and sweet pea sticks in place

Art shadow

There are more jobs to be done – the cut flower patch still needs digging and manuring – but with the long days, warm air and (best of all) a baby who is currently sleeping 12 hours a night, these feel more like a pleasure than a chore.

Also on the allotment
Sowing: Winter squash
Potting on: Cleome
Hardening off: Zinnia, borage, sunflowers, courgette, second sowing of sweet peas, rudbeckia
Planting out: Sweet peas, runner beans, French beans, borlotti, chard
Also: Netted redcurrants, hopolisk is up, ‘cage’ for brassicas and leaves in place

Cooking: Party cake with strawberries, mascarpone & chocolate fingers, sausage rolls, chocolate sorbet, redcurrant tea bread, a lot of summery Middle Eastern-style baked chicken, salads & flat breads, daal and squished fruits for Harry

Reading: The Vintage Tea Party by Angel Adoree. I love her and have spent actual money on a vintage-style hair band and kimonos. Alas the skill to style my hair into 1940s ‘victory rolls’ eludes me.

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January calm

The only thing to do in the first week of a new year is hibernate. This is the time for quiet, calm, maybe a bit of contemplation and probably quite a lot of cleaning and clearing up. In the kitchen, the excess of pastry, pork, turkey, chocolate and all the rest of it gives way to wonderfully vibrant January produce: January King cabbage, crunchy green sprouts, Seville oranges, braised pheasant.

We headed up to Malvern last week for Harry’s first trip to the hills. In truth, a pram is not the best walking companion, even if it is an all-terrain one, but we managed a short trot to British Camp.

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View north from British Camp

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Harry’s first trip to the Hills

New Years Day saw a stroll around Edgbaston Reservoir and our traditional 1 January dinner of a deliciously frugal braise, this time of pheasant, carrot, parsnip and pearl barley.

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New Years Day on Edgbaston Reservoir

During this week when the world is back at work, I do a spot of planning. It’s always time to review my professional, financial and personal plans for the upcoming year and, of course, think about the 12 months of allotmenting that lie ahead. I have a new companion to guide my thinking – in his new book Down to Earth, Monty Don discusses using fruit and veg into a cottage garden and it’s got me wondering what crops I can shift from the allotment site up to our back garden. With a baby to look after, being able to step out the back door for watering/harvesting will be significantly less stressful than packing up the car to head down to Harborne during rush hour. So there’s a high chance that the sweet peas, cosmos, stick beans and salads may stay in Bearwood this year, leaving the allotment for the space-hungry crops of sunflowers, squash and courgette.

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Time for reflection, fires and a spot of allotment planning

Meanwhile the jobs list is growing again. The raspberries are at pruning time, as are the currants, and we need to rethink the weed-suppressing plastic that I put down as it isn’t surviving the gusty winter winds. But for now, I’ll just sit in front of the fire for a wee bit longer.

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The black plastic I put down in December has barely survived the high winds: back to the drawing board

Harvesting: Rosemary, sage

Reading: The 2018 Almanac by Lia Leendertz, Down to Earth by Monty Don

Cooking & Eating: Braised pheasant, Seville oranges, sourdough. Freezer is full of turkey soup, turkey curry, turkey pie. Planning to make mutton with quince and squash soup in upcoming days.

New Years Resolution: To learn how to drink again, one teeny tiny weekly glass of fizz at a time (my metabolism is blown post-pregnancy)

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Snow snow snow

The thermometer continues to dip, with inches of snow last weekend and treacherous iced pavements. So today some obligatory pictures of snow – and the annual freelancers’ Christmas party.

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Baby’s first snow

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Snow has broken branches in the garden

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Gertie was suspicious of the white stuff

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Inches of snow on the cars

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Annual Supperagettes night out