Thursday, 17 August 2017

My late Father-in-Law, as a boy.

Lady Magnon has just returned from Blighty with a big pack of old photos that were up in our loft. The ones that I am presently scanning etc are ones that I'm particularly interested in sharing with family members, so please indulge me for a couple of days.

My late father-in-law in classic Sailor Suit, driving his rather chic peddle car.

With his people; he's the small boy on the right with the dreadlocks ringlets. Who could have thought what his life held in store; his older brother (behind him) became a Colonel in the Indian Army.

How times have changed.

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

Sun-dried Tomatoes.

Encouraged by my near neighbour, Sue, I have thrown caution to the winds and have attempted to sun-dry some (Roma) Tomatoes.

This was simply an experiment, which is why I did so few. If all goes well, I'll do a lot more in about a week's time when we're expecting a longer period of good weather.

I cut them in half, removed the pips and mush, salted them slightly, then put them out to dry in the sunshine.

I didn't have any problem drying them; but the interesting bit will be seeing how they taste.

Here they are after their 3 days drying, and having been packed away in Olive oil with some dried Oregano and coarse-ground pepper (above). The colour is amazing; nothing at all like the commercial ones. 

I have now tasted one. Really delicious, but slightly under-salted. I suppose they should be salted much as one would for eating them fresh.

p.s. Why is it that most recipes on Google for 'Sun-Dried Tomatoes' involve using an OVEN? Surely the whole point of SUN-DRIED means they're dried by the SUN. We live in strange times.

Tuesday, 15 August 2017

Kate and Sydney.

My oldest son, Kimbo, knows my tastes well. Other than a selection of wonderful cheeses, some superb bacon, and a couple of luxury Pork pies, this year he arrived with two of the above.

For anyone who is unaware, these are 'ready to cook' pies, that simply require a tin opener and an oven.

They were, and probably still are, a life-line to many students, who might otherwise exist exclusively on Beer and Pork scratchings. The thought of a Fray Bentos pie on a Sunday was heaven on earth.

The last one I ate was in 2013. I eat them alone because Lady Magnon doesn't approve. More fool her!

Bloody delicious.

Monday, 14 August 2017

Cheese or Soap?

I don't feel satisfied unless I come away from a Boot Sale with something in my swag-bag.

These two little pierced pots are a good example. The yellowish one I bought some while ago, and the white one I bought yesterday at a local sale. I have always imagined them to be Cheese drainers. Pop your Goat's milk curds into the pots, and in the morning they'll be nicely set Cheese (Cab├ęcou).

However, my friend L thinks that my latest purchase is for soap..... Please tell me that she's wrong!

Sunday, 13 August 2017

Le Vin du Midi; a panacea.

                                           No automatic alt text available.

This wonderful piece of wine propaganda begins with Louis Pasteur's wise words "Wine is the most healthy and hygienic of drinks".

It advises giving diluted Wine to children from the age of 4, and suggests that adults should consume between 75 cl and 200 cl (yes, 2 litres!!) with meals. I can actually remember, in the 1960's, adverts in the Paris Metro advising people not to drink more than two litres of wine a day!

It also advises that so-called 'pure' water (Perrier et al) is no more than poison because of added chemicals, and that between meals one should only drink Grape Juice.

As someone who enjoys drinking a couple of glasses of wine each day (sadly, not nearly as much as recommended), I do find the above a tad ambitious, but the principles still holds fast.

Saturday, 12 August 2017



Where is The North?

Some cheeky wags at have worked out where THE NORTH is by calculating how many Greggs pie shops there are per capita of population. Of course they are wrong, as you can see by their silly map (above), which looks more like a dividing line between the North West, and the South East.

As someone who was born in leafy stockbroker Surrey, I have always believed that THE NORTH began at Croydon, but I have now done considerable research into the matter, and I present my map which illustrates where it REALLY starts (below).

As you can see, The South is all that area below a line between the Bristol Channel in the West, to the southern banks of The Thames estuary in the East, including London (which is The South's major city).

The Midlands is everything in between The South and The North; excluding Wales and East Anglia, which are independent regnums.

The NORTH is everywhere above a line between Liverpool in The West, and The Wash in The East. It ends at a place called Scotland (which is an area where Whisky is made).

Other islands off the coast are simply known by their names, and do not require geographical pin-pointing.

I hope this quells any continued confusion. 

Friday, 11 August 2017


I'm not big on tattoos (I don't have any, as you might imagine), but I do rather like this one above.

When I was young it was quite common for those who'd done their National Service to return home with a Swallow, or a heart with a girl's name, or, if they'd been in the navy, an anchor, on their forearm; Popeye fashion.  

It was usually the souvenir of a drunken night in some foreign port; probably later regretted.

The current 'fashion' for minor celebs (and those who idolise them) to cover themselves with acres of unidentifiable inkings, is to me horrific. Every time I see some poor girl with drawings all over her legs, arms, and chest, I see nothing but future regret.

What seems like a bit of harmless fun when you're 18, can easily become a nightmare when you're 25. I remember seeing a 'mature' woman on the beach in Ibiza who looked as if she was covered in bruises; on closer inspection (not too close) I realised that they were ancient tattoos that had grappled with time. 

Not nice!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...