London's historical past

I didn’t realise that Mozart had lived in Orange Square at the age of 8 and had composed two symphonies.  Similarly, I’d no idea that a horse hospital existed in Camden or that Charles Dickens had produced his magazine close to The strand.  And as I wandered round the British Library in search of information to enable me to find a geocache, I was overwhelmed by the vast resources available to anyone, for free.  I was able to view Magna Carta, the Lindisfarne Gospels and the printing press that early stamps were printed on. London really is full of surprises.  

Relics of the past

I’ve been “looking up” as I walk around Carlisle,  and  it’s amazing what can be discovered.  Particularly interesting are “Ghost signs”: a tell-tale reminder of the city’s past, along with decorative panels and dates relating to a bygone time when the city was growing and the mark of success was building a temple of stone. Clearly the exuberance of post war planners in the progressive decades has had a lasting impact, with many of the city’s older building and streets razed to the ground in the name of progress. But thankfully, some small pockets of history remain to be celebrated

Coanwood Quaker Meeting House

As Parish Clerk, Andy needed to drop off an envelope for the Chairman of Coanwood Parish Council so we called by on the way to Grandma’s house for tea. As the Chairman farms very close to the Old Quaker Meeting House, I paused to take some photographs from the outside. The stone and slate roofed building remains in good repair, a testament to the diligence of those who look after the chapel with love and respect. Snowdrops carpeted the tranquil graveyard, the resting place for many generations of the Wigham family, descendants of whom still farm in the area today.

So who does any darning these days?

I’m more old fashioned than I thought.  It was the looks of incredulity from my colleagues that greeted my comment about “finishing the pile of mending” that provided the clue.  Clearly the concept of darning socks, sewing on buttons and repairing rips is lost on most people, or those that I work with, at least.  But what does happen to damaged clothing? Surely it can’t all end up at the recycling centre after a minor mishap?  If the comments in the office are anything to go by, that’s exactly where it ends up. So much for reduce, reuse, repair, recycle!

Chicken and Cheese

We enjoyed a delightful meal with Alex, Bill and Fiona on Monday as a post birthday, pre-travel trip celebration for Alex.  Originally scheduled for Sunday, we’d had to postpone because I was unwell: unheard of, but true. As always, it was an entertaining evening with enjoyable conversation around the table. In honour of absent daughters, I made Nigella’s Spanish chicken and chorizo which seemed to go down well and Fiona and Bill very generously brought us a delicious selection of cheese from the famous Shills of Cockermouth. It’s fair to say by the end of the meal we were replete!

SPANISH CHICKEN AND CHORIZO

Ingredients

2 tablespoon(s) olive oil

12 chicken thighs (bone in with skin)

750 gram(s) chorizo sausage (whole if baby ones or cut into 4cm chunks if regular sized)

1 kilogram(s) New potatoes (halved)

2 red onion(s) (peeled and roughly chopped)

2 teaspoon(s) oregano (dried)

1 orange(s) (zest)

Method

Preheat the oven to 220°C/gas mark 7. Put the oil in the bottom of 2 shallow roasting tins, 1 tablespoon in each. Rub the skin of the chicken in the oil, then turn skin-side up, 6 pieces in each tin.

Divide the chorizo sausages and the new potatoes between the 2 tins. Sprinkle the onion and the oregano over, then grate the orange zest over the contents of the 2 tins.

Cook for 1 hour, but after 30 minutes, swap the top tray with the bottom tray in the oven and baste the contents with the orange-coloured juices.  

The dire consequence of greed

Unusually, I took to my bed on Sunday. After eating an excess of sweet-corn, I paid for my greed on Saturday night with indigestion reminiscent of a dog gnawing at a bone. To ease the pains, I drew a bath at 3am and relaxed in the warm water, half reading an ancient Dick Francis paperback which I didn’t mind getting wet if I dozed off.  After several hot water top-ups, I staggered back to bed and slept all day.  By 2am on Monday morning, I felt fine but peckish.  No one was more relieved than me with my speedy recovery

Like many people we’ve watched more television during the winter months than we will over the summer.  Immersed in the latest BBC gem “ Wild Arabia”, we reflected on how lucky we are to have adventured in the chilling arctic wastelands, the endless African savannahs and the arid deserts of Arabia from our snug, living room.  I firmly believe that no one does natural history as well as the BEEB: The images of Hazar and his family watching the replay of their victorious camel race on a laptop in the middle of the desert are worth the licence fee alone