Lovely weekend.  :-)

Made mincemeat and apple jalousie, two lots of Christmas stuffing, cheese straws and cranberry sauce.  I wrapped some presents, including gift bottles of mincemeat and of damson gin.  We got all the Christmas decorations out, which is always a humourous process of elimination…

“Hang on.  We’ve only got five boxes out, and I can see the outside lights, but where are the inside lights?”

“Aren’t they in there?”

“No, that’s got the garland for the landing banisters, and that’s big enough to fill that box.”

“How about that one?”

“Nope.  It’s not heavy enough – the light curtain for the living room window weighs twice that, and I’m also missing the gold star lights and the Christmas tree lights….”

“Well there’s nothing else under guest room bed.  The tinsel box came from the only space under the office bed.  Which means…”

“Oh dear Lord no.”

“Yes.   It must be under our bed.”

*both pause to picture the myriad of boxes lurking under the king size pine bed*

“What’s the betting it’s right in the middle?”

“I am NOT taking that bet.”

It WAS right in the middle.  But we managed anyway.

Back to progress.  I made good progress on the taxes, some progress on the MA stuff, and no progress on the writing.

Yes, you may kick me now.

But before you do…. it’s icy outside.  Now, I seem to remember icy winters as the norm in my childhood.  Now they seem to be rare and wonderful.  We got all Christmas-excited and rolled right on from getting out the decorations to making the Lucia Household Illuminations happen, a complicated and technical exercise that involves eight seperate lighting features, three (so far, more will be needed before we’re done with the inside lights) strip sockets, three timer switches and a variety of hooks, clips and fastenings.

I was wearing four layers, including thermal underwear, plus a coat, scarf and gloves, and was still whimpering from the cold in toes and fingers.  And I wasn’t the one up the freaking ladder.  Poor Husband found icicles on the windowsills, and ice on the inside of the guest bedroom…. (don’t fret, it’s only minimally heated when we don’t have guests).

But the POINT is, it’s beautiful out there.  Every leaf, every crunchy blade of grass, each starburst head of yarrow and fennel, is frosted as if dipped in powdered glass.  They’ve gritted the village road (a VERY rare occurence!) which tells us how icy it must really be. 

Everything is white.  With just a little bit of silver.

It’s breathtaking, and I don’t mean the cold.

So it was good to be out in the frosty sunshine, hanging the Christmas lights, thinking about Christmas.

Really good.

Regular readers will know I’m something of an obsessive packer. 

Friends, who have experienced my beloved, shabby and cluttered home will know that I can be organised, but typically I’m only organised with stuff I have a passion for…

Like spices.

Husband and I have had an agreeable household organising day.  I’ve been swapping the contents of two larder cupboards, and chucking out-of-date foods, and he’s been washing down the window frames and polishing the inside of the windows.  That’s ninety-six seperate panes in eight windows, for the curious.

After doing my larder organising, I’d kind of developed a momentum, and segued right on into re-organising my spice drawer.  Now, to understand this, you have to understand that Dad was a curry guru, and I’ve been his kitchen assistant for the grand Christmas curry (which took three days to create the spice mixes, marinade and cook) since I was old enough to roast cumin, peel a cardamon, or say, “Dad, I think there’s too much clove in this garam masala….”

After Dad died, I inherited his magic box of herbs and spices, and I’ve been dipping into it ever since.  Until today, though, I’d never quite had the heart to combine his stocks with mine, and make something new of it.  Today, I did.

It was a nice, fragrant, nostalgic thing to do.  And now I want to cook a curry.

Again, for the curious, these are the spices in the drawer (there’s a few baking spices elsewhere, not pictured):

Caraway seed

Cinnamon sticks/Cassia bark

Black cumin seed

Mustard seed

Roast cumin

Hot madras curry powder

Star anise

Mace

Ginger

Mango powder

Fennel

Aniseed

Nutmeg

Mustard powder

Poppy seed

Fenugreek leaves

Vanilla pods

Dill

Paprika

Turmeric

Chilli powder

Fenugreek seed

Allspice

Mint

Green cardamon

Garam masala

Oregano

Cloves

Cumin

Corriander

Bay leaves

Black onion seed

Black cumin

Some things never change.

I’m one of those tiresome writers who were born, not made.  Although I then spent years learning craft and markets and attempting to hold on to some humility (and still do).

When visiting The Parentals recently, some of my old school reports came to light.  Reading my report for English, I really had to laugh.  I’ve bolded the statements that still hold true…

Anna’s efforts have to be judged against the highest standards, and even by this measure she is doing very well.  Written work displays wit, style and maturity and she has experienced very few problems whilst learning to write literature essays.  Her poetic writing has developed particularly well and shows an ability to handle language with precision.  Thankfully, she has also learned how to be concise and creat a great deal of effect in a very short piece!

Orally, Anna is confident and articulate (ie, I never shut up), but she is also willing to listen to her peers and to take their views seriously.  I only wish she would listen to instructions so well and can only be grateful that these days she reads her book on the desk rather than beneath it while I explain tasks (still guilty).

Anna reads a lot, although I am a little concerned that the range is not always very wide (true – back then: Sci Fi and Fantasy.  Now:  romance).  She needs to start taking more risks and attempting unfamiliar genres.  Her Open Study will, I am sure, be excellent and I hope that she will use this platform to attempt something new and challenging rather than playing safe and writing about old favourite authors. (Guilty, guilty, guilty…)

I worry about the amount of teacher approval Anna still craves (definitely still guilty) and trust that she will believe me when I say that she really is as good as I keep telling her! (Nah, it’ll take a few more decades, I reckon…)

Really, some things never change.

(PS – please don’t take this as boasting!  I just find it funny…)

We’ve just been down to The Parentals to visit Dad on his metaphorical death-bed.  We laughed more than we cried, which is, I think, something of a Lucia talent.

 Dad obviously hasn’t studied behaviour suitable for a man who’s been transfered to palliative care and been given a month or two to live.  Saturday was taken up with taking out the wood-burning stove, making adjustments to the flue and supervising the sweeing of the chimney!  Husband was, I expect, vastly relieved to have something practical to do.

 I just took pictures.  Husband, Brother, Mother, Father.

Priceless, aren’t they?

Speaking of priceless, Brother came up with a Mastercard-esque description of my and Husband’s wedding day: 

Wedding Dress – £500*

Reception – £1,500

Flowers – £300

Marrying a funny** husband – Priceless.

*I’m completely making up these costs.

** That’s funny ha-ha, not funny peculiar.  Although now I come to think of it…