Sherbet Pips Progress

I established certain things firmly in my mind today. One - I hate pinning quilt layers together. It is a necessary evil and I understand that it must be done, but as I crawl around the floor shoving the pointy things through and into the carpet repeatedly it is not happy thoughts that flip through my mind.

But I did it and - for once - I did a good enough job that when I flipped it over and looked to see how smooth the backing was I was actually satisfied. I would not be blogging if I had had to take all the pins out and start over again. It has happened before and I was not in a pleasant mood for a while. As I do smaller quilts I do not know how I would cope if I ever try to turn my hand to full size ones. My little Sherbet Pips is pinned though.

Next I had to psych myself up to use my machine. Well not the overall sewing machine but the part that strikes terror in my heart. The Bernina Stitch Regulator -

My little laser guided piece of machinery that I have only used once (successfully) before. I distracted myself with chores that needed immediate attention like putting away the laundry. I came and played a couple of games of sudoku online. I went back and looked at the sewing machine balefully, then I sucked up the courage, sat down and started quilting!

That was when I established fact number two in my mind. Namely the one about my machine being more intelligent than me and me being very intimidated by that. That little laser recognises the movement of the fabric and (supposedly) regulates the length of the stitches so that they are fairly uniform. And I suppose they are because I took a free motion quilting class once - without this Stitch Regulator Foot thing - and I was (I am trying to think of an appropriate word that is also polite) not very good, shall we say. My magic foot seen above definitely makes me better than I could possibly be without it.

You see, I move the fabric too quickly. You would think that would be an easy error to correct, but for me it isn't. I barely know which way to pull/shove/push it half the time, let alone have any control over the actual speed that I am moving the quilt. I am NOT THAT COORDINATED.

I do know that I was moving the fabric too fast today because the Bernina kept telling me, again, and again, and again. Beep, said it. (I shall not tell you what I said in response.) It also helpfully put this little picture on the screen -

- of the running man. I knew it was there only because Emily asked me what the running man was all about. Huh?! Who knew? I got her to take the picture because I think we have now firmly established that I can barely manage the free motion quilting let alone look at the screen. Taking a photo too is way, way beyond my capabilities.

Happily, the end to this story is a good one because the quilt is quilted. I only had to pick out about 12-15" of stitching due to a wee bit of puckering on the backing. Not bad for the first time I have ever done stippling - that's the pattern I used to stitch the quilt for all my non-quilty friends. Nice thing about stippling was I was not sure about it at all but when it was all finished I was suddenly very pleased indeed. The bonus was that Helen and Emily were well impressed with me.

Tomorrow I go in search of the binding fabric. As I bought a fat quarter pack of the Sherbet Pips and the yardage is not available here yet, I shall have to find something that compliments it.

I wasn't the only person accomplishing things of a crafty nature the past few days. Helen acquired an old pair of my socks and started making this -

- and with incredible industry she has finished and I am proud to announce that I did not help one little bit. This was her doing from beginning to very end. My only input was the pair of socks required.

I am one proud mother.

Susan

Plans! What Plans?

It's Sunday. I know I said that I would go to the garden centre today, but (I repeat) it's Sunday. I lost focus and relaxed, and then none of this planting of seeds seemed quite so urgent. The seeds will still be there during the week and the seed pots will wait patiently - I presume.

No, it has been a bacon sandwich for breakfast sort of day. Sit and read every blog I currently like to keep tabs on. See what others in the world are up to. Push a chicken into the oven to roast and then get distracted by the girls and all the 'stuff' they have hauled out of the garage. There's more fun playing swing ball than hopping in the car and heading for the garden centre, say I.

Even phone calls are better taken outside -

And that is the thing about the weather warming. I am not the only one revelling in it. Suddenly there are no arguments about how long the tv has been on or who has been sitting at the computer all day. Life happens in a much nicer way. Entertainment can be found in much more entertaining ways. It's great!

Swingball -

 Swing sets -

Trampolines -

Bendy girls -

Drama queens -

Friends -

Life is better outside.

So, no I am not going to make the effort and go out and source my tomato seeds. The stuff going on here is much more important. Besides my roasting chicken might need me. It's a good enough excuse and I am sticking to it.

Susan

PS: It is a good thing that no-one told me about the posibilities of owning a trampoline for oneself when I was young because I probably would have promised my first born to Rumplestiltskin for one - and I wouldn't be without Helen for anything!

The Not So Constant Gardener

My sunshine is back and I have been having a spate of useful tasks takeover my imagination and fill my days. Yesterday grocery shopping led to me buying a pork shoulder roast on sale. Only I am sick and tired of roasts every Sunday by this time of year. Apologies to all those who revel in the Englishness of all that tradition. When the weather cools in the autumn and the days grow shorter I am all for the long slow roasted chunk of pork emitting lovely smells through the house. But now my body feels the warmth of spring sunshine and it starts craving a barbeque.

I know - way to soon as it is still only March. But I set to carving up that chunk of pork shoulder with a vengeance. The nice lean bit I found got cut into half inch slices to be pounded into schnitzels when the mood strikes at a later date. The rest I cubed. Then I made a Greek style marinade, redolent with lemon, oregano and garlic and popped half the cubed pork in, poured the lot into a freezer bag and sealed it. The remaining meat went into a teriyaki marinade and then the three sealed packages went into the freezer. When that first barbeque gets lit I am ready. Skewers are waiting to pierce that meat and the bag of coals leftover from last year has my name on it.

Other stuff has been happening but it comes under the heading 'mundane' so I shall not go on about it, but I have been ever so efficient (for me) the past two days. I pat myself on the shoulder in praise. Not even a moment of procrastinating - simply amazing!

Today, once I was home from the Banbury shopping/errands and dance class (for Emily not me - goodness I am the world's least coordinated person), I had a new bee in my bonnet. I was going to plant tomato seeds so that they could start sprouting on my utility room window sill. I even made room for them there and shocked my husband into silence by - brace yourself - dusting it. (I hate dusting, just for the record.)

I found seeds - pumpkin seeds, carrot seeds, basil seeds, courgette seeds, broad bean seeds, a myriad of flower seeds and more - but not one single solitary tomato seed. Why? I am sure that I had/have some but obviously I am either wrong or I 'put them somewhere else'. So I set about sorting out the garage. I moved things, tidied things, ruthlessly put things in the trash - but still no tomato seeds.

So here I am. I have six big plant pots all moved into a new location and tidied up for the future little tomato plants when they go outside. I have eight tiny plant pots filled with potting soil, ready and waiting for seeds. Tomorrow I shall go to the garden centre. At least that is my activity for the Sunday sorted.

Since I can't stun you with my amazing organisation skills and ability to have everything where I need it when I need it I shall show you  my chili plant instead. The plant that refuses to die. Look, have you ever seen such a pathetic sight in your life?

But I can't throw it out because every time I get ready to it produces some new leaves, a flower or two and then another chili. It was a luscious, big, green plant last summer. All leafy and full of chillies. Just what you want from a chili plant. Now, well now it is almost an embarrassment. But if you look you will see one semi dried chili, a just about perfectly ripe one and a green one. You can't see the two baby ones just starting out. I am just not a vicious enough person to throw out a plant that is fruiting. Maybe if I was a better gardener I would be more practical but I am just so proud that the chili plant we grew from seed actually bestowed proper chillies upon us I keep it there by my kitchen sink so it can mock me with its sparse growth every day. How sad is that?!!

Makes you wonder why I am even going to the garden centre tomorrow to buy tomato seeds. Who knows what they will do to me? Last time we had a champion tomato crop summer ended early and I had a bushel full of green tomatoes. I was giving friends jars of green tomato chutney forever after that. I am a sucker for punishment - but I am sure I will be bragging to you and showing photos of little tomato plants in a month or two and once again be convinced that this is the year I get it right. I am sure that you can all have a giggle when it all goes wrong later in the year. If you do I shall send you a jar of my chutney. Be warned.

Susan

Chocolate Flapjacks

It has been a very quiet day (so far) and I am loving it. I have sat with the sun streaming through the windows, happily crocheting and meandering with my thoughts. No earth shattering conclusions have been reached. Little in domestic duty accomplished - other than laundry and the dishes. Am I bothered by this total indolence? Not one tiny iota! Everyone needs down days and this one is mine.

Would a down day be complete without chocolate though. Mine wouldn't. So I have chocolate flapjacks. I shall give you the recipe and a photo, but please don't be put off by the unimpressive appearance of this treat. It tastes so much better than it looks and it is very, very moreish. One is seldom enough. But they are nice to share because I have never met a person who didn't like my chocolate flapjacks.

Now, when I say 'my chocolate flapjacks' I am telling a great big fib. The only ones that are mine are the ones on the kitchen counter as I write this. The recipe comes straight from the Green & Black's Chocolate Recipes cook book. This one recipe alone makes the purchase of the book worth while. The book falls open at the correct page without fail. But the book is stuffed with lovely, chocolaty recipes that make me drool in an entirely undignified way. So I hope Green & Black's don't mind me passing on the recipe if I tell everyone how good their book is. (Their chocolate is pretty amazing too, by the way. I am not a white chocolate fan but if you ever come across a bar of their white chocolate and want a sublime experience - buy it and eat it well away from anyone else so you don't have to share.)

Here is what the flapjacks look like and the recipe follows -

350g butter
3 tbsp golden syrup*
175g soft brown sugar*
175g muscovado sugar*
175g good quality oats*
275g rolled oats*
6 tbsp cocoa powder
2 heaped tbsp dessicated coconut (optional)*

Preheat the oven to 140C/275F/Gas 2

Melt butter, syrup and sugars together but do not bubble. Stir in remaining ingredients (I stir the cocoa into the oats before adding them to the butter/sugar mixture as it helps break up any lumps and seems to help blend it all together more easily). Use the back of a fork to press the mixture into a lined 9' (21cm) square baking pan. Cook for 18-20 minutes.* When still slightly warm cut into squares in the pan but do not remove until completely cooled or they will crumble apart.

*My own personal comments -

(a) If you don't have golden syrup use corn syrup.
(b) I use natural muscavado sugars but if not available just use light and dark brown sugars.
(c) I use every day porridge oats like Quaker Oats or Scott,s Oats plus a premium jumbo oats.
(d) I like the coconut!
(e) It tells you not to bake for longer than stated or you will get a toffee-like chewiness to your flapjacks BUT I really like that consistency and always leave them in for a bit longer on purpose. I like the mixture to be bubbling around the edge of the pan and go against the advice in the book. Either way, they are really, really good.

At the end of the day flapjacks are wonderful because, despite being full of butter, sugar and syrup, you can fool yourself into them not being all bad because of all the oats. Makes me feel much more virtuous when I eat something like this than a chocolate bar straight from the wrapper.

I hope you try them and like them as much as I do.

Susan

The Very Middle of England

I thought that it would be hard to rhapsodise about our little corner of England as today dawned dank and foggy. After all the sunshine we have had of late I finally felt vaguely normal again and Emily was back to school, so my Dad and I were free to go out and play and the sun wasn't. Hummff! How unfair, thought I. But in actual fact, going out into what I thought was a damp and dismal day, I was proved wrong.

We live in the middle of England. Honestly, look at a map of England and find where you think it is farthest from the seaside in any direction and you will find us. I miss the sea/ocean/really big lakes. Being near water makes me happy. I guess that would be my one big complaint about where we live. It is too far from proper water.

But we do have water of a different sort. Winding, peaceful, useful water. Water that transports people. Water that provides a character to our countryside that I think is uniquely English. We live a short distance from the Oxford Canal. It is a canal for narrow boats. Not those big old (lovely) canal boats that I hunger to travel on through vineyards in France, but narrow boats are exactly what it says on the packet - narrow. On average about 6'10" wide (2.08m). This is so they can traverse the locks which can be as narrow as 7'. They have an appeal of their own, though I would still prefer France and the vineyards if truth be told.

You don't have to have a narrow boat to enjoy the canals though. Canals are wondrous places to bring young children and as they grow the joys of the canals change. Little people evolving into medium people can 'make themselves useful'. It's true and I proved it today because my father found it equally entertaining as he assisted boating people at the locks. Opening and closing locks can provide hours of fun and entertainment - if you let them stay that long. Unfortunately for my father I made him take me for lunch after a while. I think he would still be down there otherwise. Look, here he is helping -

Isn't he the quintessential English country gentleman? Tweed jacket, flat cap, all the necessary accoutrements. Born and bred in Yorkshire until the age of 14 and since then has lived in Canada for 64 years but he hasn't let go of his roots - bless him.

I thought that the weather would put paid to any half decent photos but it didn't turn out as bad as expected. Rather than looking gloomy it looks peaceful and so quiet - which is exactly what it was. The odd baa-ing of a lamb, rumble of a tractor, and so forth - but no traffic noise or other intrusions.

We walked along towards Rugby - hard to get lost on a canal because they let you know which way you are going -

Very kind of them.

There were a few boats going this way or that, but not the queues that you can get at the locks in the summertime. Just enough boats to allow for some photo opportunities.

A relaxed lunch at the pub followed our walk. I shall fore go telling of the frenzied photocopying for the Easter egg hunt coming up in a few weeks, or the joys of a grocery shop in Tesco, for I don't wish to spoil the illusion of a perfectly idyllic day untouched by the demands of every day life.

Susan