It Could Be Worse..

We were relaxing yesterday morning in the local pool. Our rooms are directly on the beach, but sometimes the sand becomes a bit much, and the 100 metre walk to the bar is too stressful, so we go to the local pool. (The bar is only 20 metres away.)

I noticed the Blonde Guy first. He was reclining on a sun lounger. Like a corpse reclines. He was wearing shorts. Nothing else.

Now Blonde Guys are not unusual round these parts. There is a Swedish Complex very close. (Hotel is too small a word. This place looks like one of those big sets from a James Bond movie. I swear I saw a man in a leather armchair cuddling a Persian cat.)

It is just up the hill. 700 Swedes, all looking for alcohol and entertainment. (Well, actually to the Swedes they seem to be the same thing.)

This chap was notable for two things. He looked like Martin Clunes, and he was sleeping the sleep of the heavily Hung-Over. I.E. Nearly Dead.

We had a certain amount of fun watching his pale Nordic skin slowly turn to crackling in front of us. I actually, (only briefly) considered either spraying him with water or squirting him with sun lotion. I did neither, naturally.

Then he woke up. He spoke perfect, polite English, with a hangover.

"Hello!. How long have you been here?"

Not as long as you.

"I work here, at the S*****G" (Swedish place.)"

"We had a staff party last night. This is as far as I got on the way back. We went to the Rock Bar..."

" I Think..."

"It has been 45 degrees Centigrade here for the last three weeks."

" I work in the entertainment section at the complex."

We felt he was being chatty, but also needed to unburden himself of some terrible secret...

"It is not a bad job. I work with the children. Four hours a day. Not bad."

"Sometimes I dress up as a giant Giraffe..."

"That is not too bad."

...

"On other days I dress up in the bear costume. I was in the bear costume all last week. 45 Degrees. "

"It was not good."

With that he stood up without looking. And walked into the pool....

Sun, Sand, Sea And...?

Well actually it's Surfing!!

Despite the fact that the Phantom can only execute a doggy paddle that would embarass a baby Pekinese, he has discovered something he can do better than his wife. (Yup, the qualified swimming instructor).

She is qualified to teach in the U.K. of course, and despite the large number of "fun" poools with all sorts of flumes and slides, surfing is not big in your average municipal pool.

I had seen her eyeing the body boards for the last few days. She bought one, and we strode, (or in my case manfully crept, sideways), into the sea. Breakers erupting to head height all around.*

She jumped on, head-butted the polystyrene board, and fell off.

This happened again. Twice.

Being male, I genetically knew what needed to be done.

"You need to leap on the crest of the wave, just as it breaks.... Keep the nose down, you need a shallow angle of attack."

After I had emptied my ears and eyes from the torrent of warm, salty water she had expertly sent in my direction, I realised what I had done. Like a London Gangster in the East End opening a Kray-free nightclub I had committed the ultimate sin. I was moving-in on my wife's Territory.

I would Have To Pay...

The next wave was looking vaguely like a tower block as it insinuated its way towards us. I prepared my self, said a prayer, waited until just the moment....

Leapt onto the board.

And coasted, literally riding along on the crest of the wave, right on to the beach.

Best of all:

• My wife was watching

• And I kept my hat and sunglasses on throughout.

Colonel Kilgore surfing off the beach under rocket fire in Apocalypse Now wasn't in it.

I swear I could hear Wagner...


* (I may be exaggerating. Maybe)

Take My Hand, I'm A Phantom In Paradise!

Apologies for any sprelling mistakes, I'm using a dual language keyboard, with the English as the small options.

Well folks, some people (like my wife) think I am deeply sad to be blogging on holiday. Myself, I just like to think I am keeping the faith, and thinking of my loyal readership.

(Excuse me while I take a gulp of my ice cold Mythos beer.......

Ah! That's better. Beer mug just out of the freezer, rime of frost around the jug. Lovely.)

My lovely other half is down on the beach, all of 30 seconds away from here. I'm in the bar of our apartments, and being civilised they have 2 internet computers set up, just a few paces from the drinks and food.

It's a long journey down from London to Crete, and another couple of hours by coach to get here, which is Macrigyalos, give or take a letter or two.

We are in rooms literally overlooking the sea, with palm trees filling in the gap between our patio and the sea.

We have managed to leave the worst of the stresses of London behind already. The quiet beauty of this area does that. This resort is still relatively undeveloped. We haven't been back here for at least 7 years, but yesterday when we walked down the main (only) street, two of the shopkeepers came and greeted us, welcoming us back.

Bougainvillea (I think, one for Amalee to rule on when I get photos up) blooms are intertwining, grapes hanging in bunches above our heads wherever we go.

The sun is fierce at this time of day, so in a while I will go back to our room and fix some lunch, local Louganiga (sausages) in fresh baps with feta and sun-ripe tomatoes.

The restaurants are decent, but none really shine. Fortunately we have a brand new butchers (kreatopoleion) and a fishmonger (psaro something or other) since our last visit, and I love cooking on holiday. (more Madness?)

I will take plenty of photos (I will make sure to get some brakfast porn for A.I.) but I didn't bring my card reader so will have to upload back in the U.K.

Thanks to all for the kind wishes.

More in a few sun-drenched days.

Tomorrow, Chrissy Island, Today, the beach!!

Love from the Phantom and his sun bronzed lady.

I Must Go Down To The Sea Again...

My good lady and myself are off to Greece for a fortnight.

Lots of pictures and the odd recipe will surely follow.

I may even blog while on holiday, if I can find an Internet Taverna!

Wish Us Well,

Back Soon,

The Phantom.

Guilty Pleasures

There is something about having friends gathering for lunch during the week that always makes me feel guilty. Irrational, I know, but it does.

Today my wife and the Legal Eagle were joined by our old friend "Battey Moo". (Just don't ask).

Another reason for me feeling guilty was that I didn't do any cooking for our feast. I was working a half-day, so I thought I would relax and let someone else put in the effort. I popped into Olga Stores, a long-established Italian Deli in Penton Street, just around the corner from Chapel Market.

For a sunny day lunch an Italian Deli is very hard to beat. In quick order I had secured ham with rosemary, some pastrami, peppers (stuffed with tuna and capers), artichokes and anchovies, both marinated in oil and of course olives. I added some mushrooms a la Greque and a buffalo mozzarella, milky and soft. The cheese would be sliced and added to tomatoes and home-grown basil, the only work I had in the whole meal. Oh, and I washed some lettuce leaves. That was it.



Ripe peaches and cherries dipped in creamy yogurt provided dessert. It was a most satisfying afternoon.

I think I can live with the Guilt.

Rainy Days and Mondays…

It would be churlish to complain about the rain. Here in London we have escaped the worst of the flooding that has caused so much damage further north.

By and large, the flooding that has occurred here has been in low-lying sites such as tube stations. An inconvenience at worst, but nothing disastrous. Two Fridays ago central London had more rain in two hours than it normally gets in the entire month of July. But things carried on pretty much as normal. We had our college end of year party that day, complete with (indoor) barbecue. It was a wonder that we weren’t prosecuted under the new Anti-smoking legislation.

In our little part of the world the only real problem caused by the rain is that the slugs and snails have been busier than normal, shredding everything within reach and even climbing up walls the better to feast on our window boxes.

My good lady wife is back to her nocturnal slug hunting, torch in one hand, slug squishing trowel in the other. Some of the neighbours think we are a little strange.

It entertains the cats too.

Now if only snails moved fast enough to tempt the cats, our problems would be solved….

Making The Most Of It

Our garden is feeling somewhat neglected of late. My Mother-In-Law's illness has meant that the Head Gardener has been spending a lot of time visiting her Mum at the hospital. When she has been at home, the rain has kept her inside for far too long.

Meanwhile, at my college, whilst the teachers are relaxing, we few (Very Few!) in the Library are stocktaking, preparing new books, and re-arranging the shelves. We have over 21,000 books and DVDs at the moment, and by the time September arrives we will have moved every single one eight feet sideways and put them back on the shelves! It's tiring, and when I get home gardening is far from my mind.

However, we managed to get outside this evening, in one of those magical periods when the weather suddenly clears and the blue of the sky looks as if it has been scrubbed clean.

The Fuchsias and Montbretia may be drooping, but the colours set each other off beautifully.


The Agapanthus have been waiting for ages to bloom, and finally found the courage to do so.


My better half stopped to have a chat with our next-door-neighbour. Our gardens are slightly sloping, so she knelt on a garden chair to have a proper over-the-fence chat.

Regular readers will know that our cats are firm believers in only sitting on humans under certain conditions, namely

• If They Haven't Asked Them To
• When They Least Expect It
• And Preferably When It Causes Them Most Inconvenience.

Bernard saw his opportunity and seized it with all four paws!



Instantly relaxing himself, my wife was rendered helpless. Another Success for the Feline Takeover of the World.



Job Done.

The Power of Wine and Cheese

It could be argued that this story should be filed under "Only In America". However, I think this news item about the redemptive power of a good red wine and a piece of cheese holds out hope for us all!

One Man's Meat...

Sometimes a particular second-hand bookshop will call out to me. Maybe I haven’t been there for a while. Sometimes I just get a feeling...

I was in the Traid shop in Holloway Road when I found this…




I get the feeling that Welsh Dog already has a copy, but if you don’t, you can find it on Amazon here.



It has somewhat mixed reviews…

“I've sent copies to several of my friends as Christmas presents and I'm sure they will find it just as funny as I do.”

Contrasting with…

“Never before have I waited with breath so baited, only to have every dream, hope and wish crushed. This book is nothing of what I had heard. The prose is uninspired, and lend the book a pompous and smug air, not unlike that Jamiroquai Rowling what writes kids books except treats the kids like idiots incapable of keeping a single thoughts in their head. Except this is worse; the witless and insipid text positively inspires vomiting (projectile) from every reader, sucking out the very essence of what makes a good read and replacing your heart with a heavy grey twilight. I do not recommend buying this.”…

One may guess which review, if any, was written by the author:-)

.

Ever Get The Feeling Someone Is Looking Over Your Shoulder?

I was trying to finish my book yesterday, stretched out in the garden in one of the rare dry spells of the last two months.

Then I became aware....





I was not alone...

Man at Work!

Apologies for the lack of new writing. I am still at work behind the scenes!

Coming tomorrow - An Interesting find in a charity shop, and a new take on reading over someone's shoulder...

Tinkering Under The Hood

I'll be upgrading the Template for this blog in a minute. So, just in case all goes horribly quiet here, at least you will know why!

UPDATE 23:00

Mmm. Not bad if I say so myself. Getting There!

Just About Dried Out.

Yesterday's trip to Hampton Court Flower Show was as rain-soaked as we had feared. Large area of the showgrounds were already looking like the Somme and this was only the first day of the show!

Highlights in the show gardens were this, inspired by the idea of a Miller's plot



And this garden, where the designers actually got right to the construction stage before someone said "'ere, It looks like the bleedin' Tellytubbies"



And, at the end of the day, as we trudged muddy and weary through the sodden fields that form the car parks, the sun came out, and we all looked for the plant pot of gold...

And The Rain It Raineth Every Day.

The photo above was taken on our trip to the South Bank on Saturday. As you can see it rained somewhat.

(It wasn't really that bad, my better half was actually standing inside a water sculpture).

We found the book exchange hut, took a couple and left a book of our own. I ended up being interviewed on video for a film project on Bookcrossing. I guess they were probably on the lookout for someone suitably eccentric looking, then I turned up, wearing the T-shirt.

We finished the afternoon with an excellent lunch at the OXO Tower Brasserie. After the last few days it was lovely just to slip into the world of the beautiful people, the ladies who lunch, and just indulge ourselves and be somewhere else for a while.

I'm writing this on the laptop, slowly getting a crick in the neck, and cramp in my typing finger. I would sit properly and type with both hands, but Visiting Cat Bernard has me pinned to the sofa by using the simple feline tactic of lying on his back, paws up in the air, whilst lying along my legs.

The look of sublime joy on his face would not look out of place on a ceiling angel in the Sistine Chapel.

Tomorrow we are off to Hampton Court For the Flower Show. Normally one of the highlights here are the water gardens. I wonder if we will be able to tell one from the other. The forecast is for heavy, thundery showers. In defiance, the Legal Eagle and her Beau are going to be taking us there in the convertible. I hope they have been practising getting the roof up quickly. I fear they may end up with the only Volvo to boast an in-car swimming pool.

News and photos soon!

Life Goes On

Things are pretty grim at home. My Mother-in-law has not responded much to the treatment she has had so far. Repeated trips up to the hospital are wearing my wife out. At home there is always an anxiety. Always the phone going. Always the doorbell ringing.

Friends and relations mean well, but they don't appreciate the collective drain they impose upon the immediate family.

We need to get out and away for a bit, time to refresh our batteries.

My wife and I will be attending what is billed as the biggest Bookcrossing event ever held in the U.K. It's part of a literature festival on London's South Bank (Or Southbank, as I believe we are expected to call it). It's this Saturday, details here.

Even if we don't find any books (I fancy the Blake) It will be good to be in the fresh air. We'll probably go for a walk, and see if we can spot any metal men.

How Quickly Life Changes

On Wednesday afternoon, during my lunch break, I booked our summer holiday. We could both do with one. It has been a tough spring. My wife and I were planning a lovely meal for the evening, and everything was good.

Then my wife got a phone call. Her mum (who lives with us) had collapsed in the street, and was in the local hospital Accident and Emergency unit. We were not too worried. They said she was OK. We figured it would be three for dinner while we pampered her a little.

When my wife got to the hospital it turned out that my mother-in-law had had a "massive" stroke, was paralysed down her right side, and had lost the power to speak.

We have since learned that she has developed a chest infection. The next few days will be critical. She is in her eighties, and things could easily get worse quickly.

But in the middle of this there are still moments that bring a smile to our lips.

Tigger, one of our visiting cats, has good reason to like the old human with the white hair. She opens the patio doors for him most mornings and gives him his breakfast long before my wife and I are up and about.

Yesterday, I let him in. He wandered around the kitchen, sniffing. Then he strolled off very casually and went upstairs.

After ten minutes or so I went up to check where he was, but couldn't see him anywhere.

Then I looked in my mother-in-law's bedroom.

No sign of Tigger anywhere...

Then I saw the duvet on the bed moving ever so slightly, rising up and down with the breathing of a very contented Tigger, under the covers, fast asleep in my wife's mothers bed....

Safety First

After my problems with the main PC at the beginning of the week, I have decided to take some preventative action. I have just bought a 120 Gigabyte portable hard drive. It comes with software to automate a back-up procedure whenever the user specifies. At least this way, should the main hard drive fail, I will always have a back-up ready to copy over. The thought of all my music and pictures just disappearing due to component failure is horrendous.

If we are to live in cyberspace, we always need to keep a spare!

Technical Problems Update

And the hot news is that the techies could find nothing wrong, I took the PC home and now everything is hunky dory!!

One can only assume there was a loose component somewhere in the PC. They took it apart, dusted it, and put it back. I am writing this on the very machine.

All-in-all the £15.00 minimum fee seems very reasonable as long as the problem doesn't return.

Of course, the moral of this tale is

***Always Back Up Your Data!!! ***

I had all my music safe on my Ipod, and all of my photos are on CD or still on the digital camera. After dinner though, I am going to go through the files on this PC and see what else I need to copy. Before it is too late!

Isn’t Technology Wonderful?

Just heard from the computer technicians who have had my ailing PC since yesterday morning. They have checked it over, but can find nothing wrong at all. The finger of suspicion now points to my LCD flat screen monitor. (Which I did not take to the tecchies). If I was Welsh Dog, I would just reach into my pile of old monitors and plug one in. Me, I don’t have any spares.

So, I will have to collect the main PC unit and then plug it all back together again, plug in the screen, and switch on. If it still doesn’t come on, it’s probably the monitor.

I’ll be hoping it is. The alternative, an intermittent fault, is too wearisome to contemplate.

Excuses, Excuses.

I was going to title this blog "The Rumours of my Death have been Greatly Exaggerated".
I googled the phrase just to check that it was Mark Twain that said it. Google produced 2,020,000 hits. They confirmed two things.

1. It was Mark Twain.
2. Practically every blogger under the sun has used it as a blog title, usually when returning to the blogosphere after an extended absence.

I've not posted in about three weeks, for which I offer my apologies. My period of silence was mostly caused by going back to work. I've only been doing half days, but it has taken it out of me. (Other things that were taken out of me can be discussed with the consultant who did my hernia repair at the beginning of May).

Work hasn't got any easier either. A couple of work colleagues are moving on to new posts and that means I'm having to take on new responsibilities. It's been busy to say the least.

It hasn't all been hard slog though. I've released a few books in the last few days as part of my drive to promote Bookcrossing. While I was off-air I found my first wild release, and had one of my wild releases journalled. Do check the site out, it's a great idea with over half a million members.

I have plans to add a few widgets onto the blog, such as a link to my Bookcrossing home page and my Librarything catalogue. However, I think my antipodean friend Welsh Dog has spread his technical curse over on this side of the planet. My main PC has gone on the fritz (technical term) and the screen is dead. Well, that's tomorrow morning gone already whilst I try and work out if it's the monitor, the graphics card or, (God forbid), the hard drive that has failed. We had a power cut a few days ago - lets hope it wasn't a power surge or the whole kit and caboodle could be fried!!

More soon.

Boy Do I Know The Feeling!

After the last few weeks of recovery I had to include this link. Many thanks to my Best Man, Welsh Dog, who is very big Down Under!

Feeling Lonely (2)

My wife and I go back a long way. God Willing we will celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary in less than four months time.

One of our little traditions is to wish each other happy anniversary every Friday evening at around 8.20. This goes back to our first date, which was at this time and on that day.


This Friday my better half is on a training course which won't finish until nine this evening.

I know it's not long, but I miss having her to say "Happy Anniversary" to.


It makes some people cringe, others rush to throw up. We think it is a lovely reminder. Relationships change over the years, no one is identical to themselves twenty years before. This is our way of reminding ourselves about the passion, the excitement and the strength of the feelings we had all those years ago.

Feeling Lonely

It's not often that I get to feel lonely. I'm a pretty self-contained individual. I guess it's the legacy of being an only child. But the last few days I have felt something or someone was missing. I'm afraid to say it is this book:



Regular readers may have noticed that it appeared as my "On The Bus Book" for quite a while. This was because Quicksilver, by Neal Stephenson, is a book and a half. Actually it's three books. And even then it's only the first part of a trilogy! (The Baroque Cycle).

It's a historical epic anchored around real people such as Isaac Newton and King Louis 14th of France. It's a Fantasy, a philosophical work-out, a primer in Cartesian geometry, a pirate story. I could go on. It even had a Wiki devoted to it.

In short, it's a brilliant book, which I feel bereft of now I have finished it. To actually get 900 pages through and feel sad that it has ended says something for the quality of the experience that Neal Stephenson provides.

I already have the second volume of the trilogy sitting in the bedroom, but I'm making myself wait a while before I dive in. I'm like a smoker in a non-smoking area, glancing at my fag-packet every now-and-then for reassurance that I can get a hit later.

Veg Box Day Soup

Today I found tired spring onions and some lackluster carrots glaring at me resentfully from the veg rack.Friday is the day of the Phantom's Veg Box delivery. A day of "out with the old, in with the new". So it was use it or lose it time.

I had some stock left over from last night's supper, so soup seemed to be the natural thing to make. I made this today while my wife was in the garden cutting the grass and generally daring the rain to start.The recipe below doesn't take long to make or cook, and is ideal for lunch.

I refer to a "seed-toasting pan". This isn't some special gadget. If you ever have a small old saucepan that has lost its non-stick, or seen better days, don't throw it. Use it for dry toasting seeds such as coriander and cumin for curries, or pine nuts for salads and pesto.

I also refer to a mortar and pestle. Obviously not everyone will have one. I didn't feel up to rummaging for ours. As I am still taking things very easy I just used the end of my rolling pin and a large bowl!

Carrot and Coriander Soup.

10 small carrots, 5 medium or 2 or 3 monsters
3 small or 2 medium onions, or 2 large bunches of spring onions
2 heaped tablespoons of split red lentils
2 pints chicken stock
2 level tablespoons of whole coriander seeds.
2 cloves garlic
Olive oil

Peel carrots and onions. Chop both roughly to the size of Dolly Mixtures.

Wet the bottom of a medium saucepan with olive oil. When hot add onions, and let soften for 5 minutes or so. Then add carrots, stir, and continue to cook gently for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Try not to burn any of the onion.

Meanwhile, put the coriander seeds into the dry seed-toasting pan and heat over a medium gas, shaking the pan every so often. The seeds will darken slightly and give off a nutty smell. This should only take a minute or two. Pour the seeds into the mortar to cool, then grind with the pestle until fairly fine.

Chop the garlic coarsely, and add it and the split red lentils to the veg pan and cook for a further couple of minutes.

Add the crushed coriander to the veg pan, stir, and cook for a minute.

Add the stock, stir, bring to a simmer and cook, covered, for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally to stop the lentils from catching.

Cool slightly, then whiz in small batches in the liquidizer or pass through a Mouli.

Red and Blues (Part 2)

I have to confess that I had never been to the Albert Hall until this week. It seemed strange actually being inside an auditorium that I have seen so often on television, and “heard” so often on the radio, crackling over the ether on the shortwave, whilst sitting in the moonlight in Greece listening to the last night of the Proms on holiday.

We had excellent seats for the concert, just to the side of the stage and only about three rows back. Ms. Armatrading played with a trio of bass, drums and keyboard in support. There was a well-judged mixture of classics and new stuff, with a distinct bluesy feel to the new album (hardly a surprise as it is called Into The Blues).

She played for a solid hour and forty minutes and I am pleased to say that her voice is as strong and clear as it was back in the ‘Eighties. An excellent evening all round. For a sample of her new stuff, click here.

Red and Blues, (Part 1)

Being a boring, stay-at-home sort of guy, the Phantom always finds going out in the evening slightly problematic. Most public entertainments, be they on the stage or the cinema screen, tend to start around eight in the evening and finish a couple of hours later. The quandary is always the same – when do we eat, and where?

At home we naturally gravitate to eating at seven-thirty or eight. This is, of course, the time when most shows start. Factoring in travelling time means that eating at home before the show is rarely a realistic option when you are heading out for your entertainment.

I find it difficult to enjoy a meal out if I am more than a few minutes away from my ultimate destination. Seeing a show in the West End therefore tends to mean dining in Chinatown beforehand. A gig at the Hammersmith Apollo will probably mean a cheap and cheerful burger and chips at the local Wetherspoon pub.

Tuesday presented new challenges. We were headed for the Royal Albert Hall. The area around South Kensington is very much Terra Incognita for my wife and I. Our forays into Hooray Henry land tend to be limited to visits to the Victoria and Albert Museum or Chelsea Flower Show. I find the wide, embassy-ridden streets somewhat intimidating. You can walk for miles without seeing anything but grand houses and 4x4’s, people in pearl twinsets, au pairs, and poodles. Corner shops are rare, there are few pubs, and absolutely no kebab shops. Bereft of the familiar sights and smells, a north London lad can feel quite unsettled.

I had done some research the day before. I used the Time Out restaurant guide to give me a rough idea of what was on offer, then checked out reviews of a shortlist of places from there.

The winner, and our culinary oasis for the night was Moroccan restaurant Pasha.

The restaurant was enchanting, glowing with rich ochre and dark carved wood, burnished brass and copper, twinkling lamps, the floors and tables strewn with fresh rose petals.

The food was finely flavoured, scented with cumin, coriander and saffron. From the starters of smoky aubergine puree and home pickled-vegetables right through to the dessert of fresh fruits and pastries, nuts and sweetmeats the food was full of flavour and generous in quantity.

We had allowed ourselves a couple of hours from arriving at the restaurant to taking our seats at the concert. Another half an hour would have been good, to nibble on Turkish delight and drink some more hot, sweet mint tea, (poured in Moroccan Style from over the waiter’s head, like a spin bowler delivering a googly).

Five minutes walk away lay our main destination for the night. The Royal Hat Box, where Joan Armatrading was to perform. Of that, more later…

More Loafing About

My Learned Friend the Legal Eagle has requested the recipe for my picnic loaf, as featured previously.

Your wish is my pleasure.

Seeded Sandwich Bread.

I developed this loaf for picnics; the mixture of flours gives a loaf that holds together well, - the seeds add extra flavour and texture.

Apologies for the Imperial measurements, they just work better with these ingredients.

(For a 2lb loaf tin)

12oz Strong Stoneground Organic Wholemeal Flour

12oz Strong Organic White Flour

2 Tablespoons of poppy seeds

3 Tablespoons of sunflower seeds

1 Teaspoon of table salt

11/2 level teaspoons of Dove’s or Allinson’s Easy Blend Yeast

2 Tablespoons of Olive Oil, plus extra for oiling bowl.

5 fl oz Boiling water, made up to 15 fl oz with cold water

Mix the dry ingredients well in a large bowl. Pour in the olive oil and most of the water mixture, which should feel hot to the fingers but not uncomfortably so.

Stir with a large spoon to mix together, adding the rest of the water as needed. A small amount of unincorporated flour is fine.

Dump the proto-dough onto the worktop, incorporate all the bits (the seeds will try and escape - do not let them.), and knead for about seven minutes. (You will get this down to about five minutes kneading with practice). Form the dough into a ball.

Pour a small puddle of extra oil into the bowl, drop in the dough, wiggle it about to coat lightly with oil, then cover loosely with clingfilm. Leave to rise until doubled in size. This is best done slowly, at room temperature.

When doubled in size, drop the dough back onto the counter and knead lightly for a minute to ensure there are no large air pockets.

Preheat the oven to gas 7, placing a rack in the middle of the oven.

Lightly oil or butter the loaf tin. Fold the dough into the tin, shaping the top slightly domed. Leave to “prove” (rise) until the dough rises to just above the top of the tin.

Make two evenly spaced cuts an inch or so down into the dough, running lengthways. This will allow the bread to rise evenly without tearing. Sprinkle with a dusting of wholemeal flour. Bake in the pre-heated oven for 30 – 40 minutes. You will know the bread is ready by the wonderful bready smell! Turn out of the tin and check it is cooked fully by tapping on the bottom of the loaf. It should sound “hollow”. (If not, put back in the oven for another five minutes or so, without the tin).

Cool on a rack, wrapped in a clean tea towel to help keep the crusts soft.

Memories Are Made Of This

Winning tickets for my wife and I to see Joan Armatrading yesterday set both our minds back more years than we would care to remember.

Over twenty years ago, as described here, we had met as trade union reps. There was an immediate attraction. I gave her my number. (My home number, mobile phones were the size of bricks and only for the ultra-rich). She rang for a date. Before I knew it, she had invited me on a little trip she was planning, and I had accepted.

A friend of hers was going to work in India. With Mother Theresa. My future wife was going to fly out and visit her. Thus it was that shortly after I had met my Better Half To Be, I was packing a rucksack and preparing for a month traveling from Calcutta north to Darjeeling, then up to Nepal, stopping in Kathmandu before flying back to Calcutta again.

I had never even been on a plane before.

Part of our luggage was a small recording Walkman cassette player with a built-in mono speaker. We only took five tapes with us, and they provided a soundtrack to that trip. What were the tapes?

Face Value (Phil Collins)

Chicken Skin Music (Ry Cooder)

Little Creatures (Talking Heads)

Planxty (Planxty)

And, Of Course, Joan Armatrading.

Going Nicely So Far

I promised my Consultant I would take thing easy, as I mentioned yesterday. I intend to do so. You do not mess with a woman with the gravitas of Hattie Jaques, a double-barreled name, and a scalpel digging around your nether regions.

There is a difference between rest and inaction however. I fully intend to keep busy. It will be interesting to see what I can achieve with the help of my Indispensable Black Kit.



(The Phantom's Black Kit, modelled by Tigger, The Tabby Kit. Laptop, Mobile Phone, Camera, Palm organiser and Ipod.)

Things are already going well. I just used my phone to enter a competition on London's Capital Gold radio station. I have just heard on the radio that I am one of the ten winners. A pair of tickets to a concert next week should be in the post today.

I won't say what the tickets are for yet - let's wait until they flop onto the mat!

UPDATE 12.10: Andy from Capital Radio has just rung and given me a code to quote at the box office. So, to find out where the Phantom and his Better Half will be next Tuesday, click HERE.

It Only Hurts When I Larf

Or Cough. Or Sneeze.

Glad to be back anyway. Am under strict orders to take it easy for the next few days. I was expecting to be signed off work for two weeks, but the Consultant has insisted on me taking four weeks off.

Lovely.

So I'm writing this in our bedroom, the sound of a Greater Spotted Woodpecker hammering in the trees outside. Tigger is curled up on the bed keeping my toes warm, he's been here all morning.

I'll just rest until I can take another painkiller in half an hour, then I shall struggle into my day clothes and pick up the paper. No Rush.

May is all mine.

The Usual Pressure Blog

Goes something like this…. Busy at work, unable to find the time to write, apologies.

This is not that blog. I NEVER write during work time. That is practically theft.

(Though I have been very busy at work, now that you mention it.)

No, I have been very busy at home, unable to find the time to write, apologies.

HOWEVER… I am going into hospital today for a quick (and hopefully minor) running repair. When I get out I will be off work for a couple of weeks, with no excuses for not blogging!!

You may wonder why I have written this.

Well, any operation does have a risk. Something could go wrong.

At least if this IS the last post, no one will think I died because I left my Lunch in the fridge.

Salad Heaven, Salad Hell.

Imagine my hunger.

Safe in the Staffroom fridge I had a plastic box of salad stuff left over from dinner the previous night. Clock-watching, my imagination savoured the contents of the box. Smoked salmon. Hot-Smoked mackerel. Potato salad made with mayonnaise and floury organic potatoes. Beetroot in balsamic vinegar. Coleslaw, cottage cheese and leaves of rocket and lamb’s lettuce dressed with lemon-flavoured Colonna Gran Verde olive oil…..

One O’clock came, I hastened to the fridge, grabbing my carrier bag from it and almost running to the park to claim a bench in the sun for the coming delights. I felt the soft give of the slice of bread I had cut, the hard metal of the fork rattling a drum beat as my feet struck the cherry-blossom path into our local greenspace.

I sat down, brought out the fork, laying it on a serviette on the bench. I placed the slice of bread down, rummaged for my bottle of water.

Let the feasting commence…

I opened the lid.

Potato Salad.

Wrong Box.

Shit.

My Lunch was still in the fridge at home.

Loafing About

With the weather forecast getting better by the day, we decided to visit to Kew Gardens yesterday.

Now, for us, one of the joys of the day is taking along a good picnic.

So, a couple of days ago I made some bread for our sandwiches.

If I can convince one person to try and make bread for the first time I will be happy.

Making bread is easy, and it doesn’t take hours of work.




I timed how long it took to make the dough from scratch. 15 Minutes!!
Then I left it to rise for an hour, whilst doing battle with my other half over the Scrabble Board.



After an hour of rising, I knocked the dough down (basically kneaded it again for two minutes). Then I popped the dough into a tin for the final rise (proving) whilst returning to the garden to finish off the game (I lost, badly.) (My wife would say I always do lose badly!)





Two hours after starting, the dough went into the oven.

And Voila!

There is something about blogging in the sunshine....

Somehow sitting at the laptop in the open air inspires fantasies of creativity; Hemingway sitting at his Remington, trusty shotgun at his shoulder….

(No don’t worry, I’m not feeling suicidal, far from it! Full of the joys of Spring, me!)

Happy Easter to everyone reading this. It’s midday and the sun is baking down, a fresh coolness pouncing on the unwary whenever one of the few passing clouds dares to cover the sun.

Yesterday the Legal Eagle and her Beau came round for an Easter Sunday celebration.

Main course was a handsome leg of Irish lamb. (Probably the left leg, it was very tender).

As always though, when the Legal Eagle is around, a good pudding is never far away.




This marvel was a “Tarte aux poires a la normande”, an excellent tart of pears in an almondy frangipane filling.

The recipe is in Jane Grigson’s excellent The Cooking of Normandy. (Now out of print and “Collectible”, available from Amazon second-hand)

When it arrived on the table, it looked as if we had been transported to the other side of the channel.

To conclude, a group photo to commemorate a great day:




(Left to Right, The Beau, Legal Eagle, The Phantom, The Phantom's Better Half).

Catching Up

(One of the many things I wanted to blog about but didn’t have the energy to in the last fortnight)....

A survey published recently which found that most people have a repertoire of only four or five recipes which they cook time and time again. The most commonly cooked family meals?

1. Spag Bol
2. Roast Dinner
3. Sausage and Mash
4. Stir Fry
5. Stew
6. Chicken Tikka Masala
7. Chilli Con Carne
8. Shepherd’s pie
9. Fish and Chips

With spag bol being cooked twice a week by over 6 million people.

One can’t help feeling that the number of people who actually cook Chicken Tikka rather than re-heat a ready meal is pretty slim. And fish and chips?

As with all surveys, you have to question the motives of those who commission it. In this case, learning that the survey was paid for by Loyd Grossman’s company (manufacturers of jars of ready-made sauces) gives a clue to the viewpoint in question.

Mr G. is saying that people are stuck in a rut, lacking in ideas and what they need is a jar of sauce!!

Surely what is needed is an improved range of knowledge about techniques and ingredients. A box of minced beef fried up to slush with onions is only ever that, regardless of whatever flavour sauce is poured on top. But that mince could be turned into fresh burgers, meatballs, meatloaf, lasagne, bastitsio or stuffed into any variety of cabbage, aubergine, pepper or tomato. Not to mention keema curry!

When Loyd Grossman presented Masterchef he helped stimulate ideas about techniques and ingredients. Now all he is doing is encouraging laziness in the kitchen and limiting people’s culinary horizons.

I am a sad enough foodie that I actually keep a food log of each day’s main meals. I went back over the last 10 Tuesdays. This is what we had:

1. Cottage pie (made with minced leftover roast lamb).
2. Baked Salmon Steaks
3. Pea and Jerusalem Artichoke Soup
4. Cold gammon Knuckle with parsnip mash
5. Baked Salmon Fillet on a bed of celeriac and carrot
6. Grilled Mackerel and trout with a warm ratatouille and couscous
7. Belly of pork braised with ginger, star anise and soy
8. Chinese Take Away (!) (I had the ‘flu)
9. Shop bought chicken curries (Ditto)
10. Casserole of Dublin (lamb shoulder) chops.

By and large, simple ingredients, simply prepared. And not a jar of sauce in sight….

Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part 3...

The good Mrs P and myself went round to see my Mother today. I hadn't seen her for a few weeks (I really didn't want to pass on my bugs to an eighty-year-old with a bad chest already). She looked and sounded much better than when I saw her last.

The weather was perfect; cool, and clear, blue skies with unbroken sunshine. We had come prepared with loppers, secateurs and gardening gloves, and gave my Mum's garden a thorough spring cleaning.

Getting home this evening our Visiting Cats arrived and joined us in the sitting room. We thought we would have a well-deserved treat and ordered a chinese take-away.

The meal was better than ever. We tried a few new dishes and they did not dissapoint.

They had popped a couple of fortune cookies in with our bag. After our meal I opened mine.

What cheerful thought did my cookie bring to round off a perfect day? I quote

"We are born crying, live complaining, and die disappointed."

Thanks for that...

Once again I must thank everyone who has been in touch and sent their best wishes. I think Monday just gone must have been rock bottom. I went to the Doctor in the morning, and nearly fainted on the way home. After all the stress my heart rhythmn started misbehaving. Nothing too serious, it settled back by the evening, but scary nonetheless…

I have the rest of this week to get my strength back. In a minute I am going to sit out in the spring sunshine; Tigger, our visiting cat, is patiently waiting for me to finish making my coffee and bring out the paper for him to sit on. (Only the Guardian will do.)

Hopefully normal service will now be resumed.

I can’t send a bunch of flowers to all my readers, but I can send you this, taken just now in our garden.





“To feel keenly the poetry of a morning's roses, one has to have just escaped from the claws of this vulture which we call sickness.” ~Henri Frederic Amiel

(And before you all leap in, I know, they're Pansies. Too early for roses!)

A Wizard Wheeze...

Is exactly what I still have. A week since I last summoned enough focus to post and I still feel dire.

I am not looking for sympathy, but after being on double-strength antibiotics since Monday I would expect to feel a little better.

In the comments to my previous post Aidan wonders whether I am suffering from the bird flu. I think it is unlikely, but as a fellow Tottenham supporter I may well be susceptible. I must admit I seem to have been in a decline since the Cup Tie From Hell.

If Silence Is Golden...

Then this blog should be worth quite a bit more than it was...

Apologies and many thanks for coming back to check on things.

I will never take the mickey out of the 'Flu again. I can see why it killed more people in 1918 than died in the first world war. I still haven't shaken it off properly.

I have gone back to work twice; the last time the boss made me sign a note saying that I wouldn't return until I was fully fit!! (I do have a great boss though, and no, she doesn't read this).

Worse thing was, I was supposed to be having a hernia repair operation on Thursday last. The Anaesthetist took one listen to my chest and he sent me packing too.

Nobody wants a Phantom with the Flu.

The Difference Between Flu and a Cold…

Is about three days of total feeling-like-shit.

I have had the Flu….

I have managed to miss

World Book Day,

St. David's Day

and The First Birthday of This Blog.

Moan, Whinge, Wheeze...

(Coughs Again....

More Tomorrow, If Spared....

Tomorrow England and Ireland, Next Month The World!!

Oh, the decline of Empire!

Tomorrow is World Book Day. In England. And Ireland.....

Err...

That's It...

Pink Bits on the map, where are they now?

Apparently The Rest of The World celebrate WBD on April 23rd. This has been deliberately chosen as it is (probably) Shakespeare's Birthday.

It takes little imagination to see why Ireland would not wish to have a major celebration on the birthday of England's greatest writer. A day which also happens to be the feast of St. George, patron saint of England.

But why don't the English celebrate it then?

I feel a campaign coming on....

Spring is Springing

In our part of London last week was half-term, a chance for students and staff alike to gather their wits and strength for the exam season to come. I spent many (too many?) years as a student, and it is only recently that the thought of June has ceased to give my stomach a sick lurch. (Now working in the education world I can enjoy watching the discomfiture of others without the sleepless nights that always accompanied my exam build-up).

Last week passed too quickly, and today's back-to-work feeling is only just wearing off. It isn't that I dislike my work; just that being away from it for a week reminded me that I rather like not working. This is different from being unemployed. (Being unemployed is miserable. I should know. I had an enforced career change that left me jobless for a year and a half.) Not working means being able to play with the visiting cats rather than pushing them out through the door in the morning. It means being able to make bread for the next day's sandwiches, to be consumed with a flask of tea at Kew Gardens in the spring sunshine. It means having the time to print and frame some of the digital photographs you have taken.

Mind you, it also means tidying the bedroom and cleaning the oven out, but you cant win 'em all.

Tonight, after a week not a work, I really noticed that I was arriving home in daylight. Spring is definitely here now.

A Happy New Year To All Our Readers (Part Two)

Last night found the Phantom, Mrs P and nine carefully selected friends enjoying the lights of London's very own Chinatown...



Mind you, as it was Chinese New Year we were far from alone. Gerard Street was shoulder-to-shoulder, jam packed. People were queueing in the streets to get a table in the restaurants. Luckily we had booked ahead, about three weeks before. We hadn't actually realised when we booked that it would be New Year... Why had we gathered?

To celebrate a very important Birthday!

I won't say how old my wife is, but it rhymes with Shifty, Nifty and Thrifty. (Two out of those three adjectives could even be applied to her.)

Our gathering had all the makings of a joke - amongst others we had a nun, a lawyer, an accountant and an insurance salesman. Good job nobody had to change a lightbulb....

To everyone who made last night such a special and enjoyable occasion, Thank You.

And Cheers!!

Today's Sandwich Selection for Sixth Formers

The Phantom will let you know if he starts leaping into phone boxes and wearing his pants on the outside!!

Talking Turkey

Last Friday, as the Bernard Mathews turkey scare gobbled up even more headlines, our college caterers excelled themselves with the half-price dish of the day, turkey burgers.

To say that the first appearance of turkey on the menu this year was ill-timed is an understatement. Today however, our caterers excelled themselves. Our students were proudly offered pre-packed turkey salad sandwiches, each one bearing a sticker - "Turkey - A Superfood,".

AAARGGHHH!!!

Thank You New Blogger. I know my laptop needs upgrading, Windows '98 SE is not supported anymore etc etc. But old Blogger worked perfectly with it, no problems. With the new Google-powered blogger I have to log in to GoogleGroups and then sneak in sideways. Logging in through the front door seems impossible. Well, I spent about three hours trying to do it over the weekend - three hours I would have much preferred to have spent bloody blogging.

Forcibly Moved!

Against my will I have been forcibly "Migrated" to the Blairite New Blogger. I have read an awful lot of things about it, none good. I offer my apologies now for any unsightly changes to the appearance of this blog, and any gaps in posting. Blogger managed to lock me out totally yesterday. I am still not sure if I can post from my laptop! Time will tell...

Bon Voyage

Further to my preceding post. Yesterday I released my first book “into the wild”. I had given it all the advantages I could. It was lunchtime, and I chose a park which has a pretty high through-traffic. I protected the book in a waterproof see-through zip-lock bag, and a big yellow Post-It proclaimed “I’m Not Lost, I’m Free!” on the cover. I even included a bookmark which explains more about the bookcrossing idea.


I had sat down on a bench in the middle of the park. I took the book from my bag and placed it on the bench next to me. Mental images of John le Carre novels washed over me. Even though my heart was racing I tried to look nonchalant. I guess I rather ruined the cool approach by reaching into my bag for my camera and taking a last photo before I walked off!




I moved into cover about a hundred yards away and ate my lunch, deliberately not looking over to the bench and its package.

About ten minutes later, lunch eaten but not remembered or really even noticed, I couldn’t resist walking back for a look.

My book had gone. Flown into the wild.

Only about a fifth of books released ever get “journaled” on the website, but at least mine had rapidly found a new owner. News could arrive at any time, an email to say the book has a new entry on the website.

I wish the new owner happy reading.

The Guardian recently had an article concerning bookcrossing. As always, the Phantom is just ahead of the crest of the wave!!

Making the World...

One of the first posts on this blog was about World Book Day. It will be coming round again in only a few weeks.

I would like to mention two book related sites that I have been spending some time on recently.

The first is Librarything.com. Put simply, it is a site that will catalogue your books for you. All you need to do is just type in the ISBNs. Pretty soon you will have a searchable catalogue database, all held on the web and accessible from wherever you have a connection. Librarything allows you to label books with your own tags and search among other user's collections.


The second site is Bookcrossing.com.

Bookcrossing is all about "making the world a library". You find a book you like, register it (for free), and let it go, releasing it on a park bench or in a waiting-room. The next person who finds the book and likes it enough to take it away is invited to go online and look the book up. Just by going to the site and typing in a short number (written inside the book) they can see where the book has been, and what other people ("Journalers") thought of it. The idea is to make a new Journal entry, and then, after reading the book, leave it somewhere for someone else to find.

Such a simple idea, but it is already building a real community of booklovers.

I will be putting sidebar links up very soon.

Blogging Goes Mainstream

It had to happen eventually! Bloggers have finally become accepted into that epitome of Little Britain, The Archers. Ambridge has always been at the forefront of the techno-revolution. The village has its own website, and the local pub, The Bull, even has an internet cafe.

Now, Ian and Adam, recently "Civil Partnered", have set up a blog on which to document their honeymoon trip. Mind you, they are the only gays in the village, and therefore allowed to be a little avant garde.

A Month Since Christmas

It’s hard to believe but it really is one twelfth of a year since Christmas day. It’s been a long month, tiring. Going back to work always takes an effort, but especially so when the mornings are still dark, and the cold nights make a warm duvet even more difficult to throw off.

It doesn’t even seem like a week since gales were sweeping the country. Yesterday brought the first of the winter’s snow for those of us in the south. I had to rush into work for an early start, but I couldn’t resist snatching a photo of our garden.



The snow works a silent magic every time.

With time seeming to speed up, now is the moment to start planning for the coming summer in our garden. The pyramid on the right in the photo is a mini greenhouse, a Growmate. A few years ago we got organised, sowing seeds and growing petunias, bizzy-lizzies, salvias, chillis, basil and tumbling tomatoes. Recently we have let things slip, and the Growmate has been more of a storage space. (Though Bernard, one of our visiting cats, was using it as an highly architectural litter tray until we discovered what he was doing.)

This year will be different. (Do we say that every year?) I have learned my lessons. After our first successful year I got over-ambitious, planting seeds too early when the days were still too short. The resulting seedlings grew spindly and fell over, or succumbed to damping-off. This year I will plan ahead, but bide my time…

English – The Language of Uncertainty

If the purpose of a newspaper headline is to convey unequivocal meaning quickly, this headline singularly fails the test…



When I first saw the above headline (on the current edition of Eastern Eye) I thought it concerned a vigorous debate about reincarnation! It turned about to be about a man released from prison in Pakistan. I link to the Guardian’s article here.

Before and After

This was the proud, three storey high billboard which used to face our college.




After today's Gales this was all that was left to clear up...



It looked bloody heavy too. Luckily nobody was hit, though the debris closed one lane of the road for the afternoon

An Ill Wind

I wrote the previous item in my lunchbreak. It was only when I went out for a stroll later that I realised quite how bad the weather is here in London.

Just outside our college a large advertising hoarding had been blown down onto the road. The park just down the road had been closed because a number of trees had been uprooted.

Now, at afternoon break time, our college is empty and, for once, silent.

A glass roof at the front of our building has been bucking and twisting, threatening to shatter at any moment. It is right in front of our main entrance (and exit) and is our main fire route out of the building. Naturally that exit can’t be used, so all the students have been sent home. There are just three of us in the library now, and the place feels like a cross between the Titanic and the Marie Celeste….

Lowpoint of the Year

There is definitely something in the air at this time of year. A miasma of malaise seems to hover just above everyone you talk to. Although the days have been getting longer for nearly a month now, they still seem pinched, grey, drab and dismal. The mornings are still dark and oppressive. I normally wake up a few minutes before my alarm goes off. In the last week I have slept clean through the alarm three times.

January 2nd may have been the worst day
for staff sickness generally, but in our library we have had 20% sickness rates all week long. Half term is only a month away, but it feels like forever to wait….

The last few days all I have felt good for when I get home is just crashing out on the floor in front of the TV and the paper, or falling asleep in the armchair with one of our visiting cats.

Still, things aren’t necessarily better when the sun is shining. Check out this article
from my friend Welsh Dog over at Opinion Australia.

After reading that, the rain and greyness doesn’t seem so bad after all!

The GJP

The Grilled Jacket Potato is one of the few items in my culinary repertoire that I actually feel I have invented. I say "feel" because in the kitchen very few ideas are new. All i can say with any honesty is that I don't recall seeing the idea anywhere else.

One of the most common uses of the microwave must surely be making a jacket potato. They certainly cook quickly,but they can be somewhat unsatisfying. The very speed with which they cook seems to deprive the spud of flavour. Cooked in a traditional oven the outside skin crisps up, providing depth of flavour and contrasts in texture. The nuked spud seems soft and pallid in comparison.

My technique is designed to give the potato back some some flavour and texture. It is still quick, and the gain in flavour is significant.

1. Prick potato with fork a couple of times and cook as normal in the microwave.

2. Cut potato in half through longest axis.

3. Score cut sides of spud lightly in a diamond pattern.

4. Cut a piece of butter about an inch square from a fridge-hard block.

5. Spear butter with a fork and run gently over the cut surface of the potato, allowing as much butter to melt as your waistline or conscience will allow.

6. Grind plenty of black pepper and salt onto the now slightly roughened, buttery surface.

7. Place under a pre-heated grill until golden, brown, and irresistible.



I came up with the idea as an alternative to full-on roast potatoes. You get some of the crunch without so many calories!

The Last of the Christmas Veg Box

It is amazing how dependent one can get on a vegbox. Last night we used the last vegetable from our enlarged order delivered the Friday before Christmas. We are counting the days…

We had ordered an extra cauliflower, and it was still lovely and fresh when we had it last night, to accompany roast chicken and our special invention, the Grilled Jacket Potato. (More on the GJP tomorrow.)


Now, spuds, cauliflower and chicken could end up being a plate full of grey. However, we still had some double cream left in the fridge, and plenty of cheese. So, feeling indulgent, we decided to have cauliflower cheese. The gratineed top lifts the whole meal.




Doesn’t this look delicious?

The secret to a good Cauli Cheese is simple, steam the cauliflower for just a few minutes and then allow to cool, uncovered. This make sure the cauli is dry, preventing the cheese sauce from being thinned down by watery juices, and still leaving the veg with some texture.

The sauce was made with ½ pint milk, ¼ pint double cream, a couple of tablespoons of plain flour and roughly a quarter of a packet of butter. The technique was Delia Smith’s all-in-one white sauce method.


I used extra flour for a thicker end result. Once the sauce was made, and off the heat, I added a goodly amount of grated mature cheddar, and a small amount of freshly grated parmesan. The mixture was assembled in a greased gratin dish, the cauliflower given a dusting of nutmeg before the sauce was put on, and finally finished with a further sprinkling of parmigiano on top of the sauce. Twenty minutes in a hot oven did nicely. You can give it a flash under the grill to finish colouring the top if needed.

This dish is so good, you could have it as a main course with just a salad and some crusty bread.

Happy New Year To All Our Readers

Wherever you are in the world we both hope you have a Happy and Healthy 2007.

My fellow Finsbury Park blogger a.c.t. posted a photo of her family Nativity scene.

Over here at Phantom H.Q. the Health and Safety Inspectors decided that straw and our passion for night-lights was a bit of a risky combination, so we had to give the hay the old heave ho.

We like a slightly non-traditional twist, so see if you can spot the odd-one-out in our crib scene...




This just happens to be post 101. It seems appropriate to hit a turning point like that on the first day of the New Year. Phantom's Resolution? Keep Blogging!!

Things I Have Learned This Christmas

The road to a peaceful Christmas does not involve going to Waitrose. It does involve going to Midnight Mass. And singing.

Picking up your turkey from the butcher on Christmas Eve saves a lot of hassle and a considerable amount of fridge room.

Having your veg delivered saves time and energy fighting over the last parsnip in the shop.

Sprouts are best cooked slightly under, chilled rapidly, then zapped in the microwave with a little stock or butter when needed.

Having double cream and decent chicken or turkey stock on hand makes so many dishes just a bit more special.

If you do it properly, a three-course Christmas dinner will mean you do not get hungry for at least twenty-four hours after. (Or was I a bit greedy?)

A juicer is for life, not just Christmas. (Though actually that was a birthday present, ten days before Christmas). A glass of freshly made carrot and pear juice with ginger on Boxing day sets you up for the second round of the festivities like nothing I know.

And something I already knew, but it bears repeating….

There Is No Such Thing As Too Many Cookbooks.

Chim Chim Cheree

In the days of open fires it was considered lucky to have a chimney sweep attend your wedding. In these days of radiators, chimney sweeps are somewhat difficult to come by. The lady phantom and I went one better at our wedding – we had a road sweeper. He didn’t just attend the wedding, he performed the service!

A little background would help here. Imagine the early to mid ‘Eighties – Thatcher is getting into her swing, local authorities are reeling from competitive tendering and round after round of spending cuts are hitting home.

The Phantom is yet to don his cape and tights. He works as a Home Help, shopping and cleaning for mostly elderly clients. His fellow Home Helps are mostly women, all poorly paid. The Phantom decides to try and make things better, and becomes a Shop Steward in the National Union of Public Employees.

One day, over a long oak committee room table, he spies the woman who is to become his wife. She is a shop steward at a local swimming pool. After the meeting, on a bus home, he gives her his phone number. She rings, arranges a date, and the rest is our history.

One of our fellow activists was a road sweeper. But he had a big secret. He was also a worker priest. He was a good friend of ours, so when we decided to marry, he seemed to be the natural choice to perform the service. There were surprised looks upon the faces of some of the wedding guests when they saw their mate the sweep standing up on the altar in full priestly regalia. It gave the local paper an interesting story too…

We hadn’t seen him for a few years. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I was walking past a building society at lunchtime and almost bumped into him. As luck would have it he was only down for the day, but I got his new address, up in Tyneside, his native area. Our last few Christmas cards had never got to him. We posted one to his new address right away.

If you are reading this, John, we’ll be raising a glass to you on Christmas Day.

We would both like to wish all our friends a very happy Christmas. Once the madness has settled down I’m sure we’ll have some interesting leftover recipes to post!

Food For Thought

I would like to point my reader to this extremely interesting …article on food politics in the current issue of The Economist. Forgiving myself the pun, there is a lot of food for thought contained in it.

I do have one objection though. The article quotes from a DEFRA report which says “It turns out to be better for the environment to truck in tomatoes from Spain during the winter, for example, than to grow them in heated greenhouses in Britain.” Surely this is approaching the argument from totally the wrong angle. It must be better for the environment to only grow tomatoes in season, in the summer. We don’t need to grow tomatoes in the winter. That’s what tins and jars are for, and they taste better in season too.

It is a very interesting article nevertheless. Do read it. I look forward to any comments.

Die, Lady, Die

An article in today’s Guardian
gives more information of Princes Harry and Wills’ plans for a tenth anniversary celebration commemoration of Lady Diana’s death next summer. Their will be a concert which will take place the day after a church service…

"We want [the anniversary commemoration] to represent exactly what our mother would have wanted; how she was and all that sort of thing," said William. "So therefore the church service alone isn't enough.”

…”how she was and all that sort of thing”… Like Diana, expect all the artistes to have to undergo virginity checks before performing… The stage will be set with a grand staircase which will allow star turns of the calibre of Elton John and Duran Duran to throw themselves down it in a bid to attract attention. Acts will then gorge on food, and vomit over the audience, grabbing the hands of land-mine victims suffering from AIDS and singing “We Are The World”. Oh, hang on, that last bit was Michael Jackson…

The concert is on 1st July 2007. (If Wembley Stadium is finished by then of course.) Tickets go on sale tomorrow at this website.

Chocolate Pecan Pie

As promised. The recipe seems a bit lengthy, but comes together pretty quickly. The result is definitely worth the effort. The recipe is from Anton Mosimann's "Naturally", (Ebury Press 1991.) Curiously both the Legal Eagle and the Phantom have the book in their collections.Serves 8

OVEN: Moderately hot, 200 C/ 400 F/ Gas 6, then moderate, 180 C/ 350 F/ Gas 4

1 quantity Sweet Pastry (see below)

Roll out the pastry, and use to line a 20cm (8in) tart tin. Line with foil, fill with baking beans, then bake blind in the preheated oven for 10 minutes. Remove the beans and foil and bake the flan case for another 6-7 minutes. Cool.

Reduce the temperature of the oven.

The Filling:

Melt together over a pan of hot water

120g (4 ½ oz) plain chocolate, chopped into small pieces

50g (2 oz) unsalted butter

Whisk together

4 eggs
230 ml (7 ½ fl oz) maple syrup
a few drops of vanilla essence

Then blend the melted chocolate into the egg and syrup mixture. Mix well.

Stir In

250g (9 oz) shelled pecan nuts

Stir in, then pour the mixture into the pastry case. Bake in the moderate oven for about 30 minutes until the tart has puffed slightly in the centre, and has just set.

Icing sugar
Whipped cream

Serve warm with a dusting of icing sugar and some whipped cream.

For The Sweet Pastry

150 g (5 oz) plain flour, sifted
100 g (4 oz) unsalted butter, cut into cubes,
30 g (1 ¼ oz) icing sugar, sifted
1 egg yolk
finely grated rind of ½ lemon

Place the flour in a mound on a clean work surface, and make a well in the centre.
Add the butter, sugar, egg yolk and rind, and work together with the fingertips, gradually incorporating the flour, to a smooth paste.

Roll into a ball and rest for at least 20 – 30 minutes in the refrigerator.

Roll out and use to line a greased 20 cm (8 in) tart tin. Leave in a cool place to rest for 30 minutes.

Culture Corner, or, On The Way Home From Work Tonight - a true poem

He got on my bus,
The Poet, John Hegley,
And sitting
Quite close
His hand brushed my legley.

Old Friends

We had the Legal Eagle and her partner around for a meal last weekend. As usual too many months had passed since we last met, and we couldn’t remember the last time we had them round for dinner.

I did the main course, my feathered friend the dessert.
(The Eagle has always had cold hands, which may be a discomfort as the weather grows more wintry, but has decided advantages when it comes to making pastry).

Now, I wouldn’t say that the Eagle is always late. She was on time for our wedding (as a guest, that is!). But in the ensuing nineteen years shall we say she has been tardy more often than punctual. To the extent that I either cook something that can stand without spoiling, or something so quick I can put it on when she arrives! I guess having to be on time for court appearances during the week produces a reverse tendency at the weekend. This time was no exception. At the appointed hour the phone rang. The pudding had just gone into the oven. They would be over as soon as possible.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it was worth the wait. My aquiline dinner guest arrived within the hour, bearing a Chocolate Pecan Pie. The smell of butter and chocolate filled the room as soon as it was unveiled, born aloft on a wooden board, looking somehow mediaeval and rather grand. (the Pie, not the Guest).



We managed to get a photo before it was too late...



Unfortunately you can’t taste the lemony pastry or the rich eggy chocolate filling.

I will post the recipe soon.