Vegetable Stew

Has the world gone quite bonkers? Well yes, it seems. My heart goes out to Mrs. Ann Doy, 62, who apparently makes a mean piccalilli. According to today's Telegraph, she has become the latest victim of Big Brother Brussels. New legislation means that Mrs. Doy will now not only have to list every ingredient in her homemade chutney, but also be able to account for the pedigree of each individual ingredient, where it originated from, & keep a receipt for its purchase for a year. You might be forgiven for thinking that Mrs. Doy is a wholesale supplier to the supermarket giants, but no! She uses produce from her own vegetable garden which she cooks in her own little kitchen & sells her chutney at a weekly country market run by the WI. "This is going to do nothing for my blood pressure," she says. Even village cricket teas will be held to account apparently, so be on your guard. If a funny little short man starts poking about with your sandwiches, he might be the bendy-cucumber inspector...

It's Definitely A Pig's Life...

Not only are men appalling patients, but they really don't make very good nurses either. I have had a nasty chest infection for a while now, you know how it is - coughing up unspeakable chunks of lung, fighting for each ragged breath - & all the Husband has managed in the way of concern is to make me the odd lemsip & compare me to Darth Vader...

Oldest Son was tempted back into the happy family fold at tea time yesterday. Having managed to ignore us all for the preceding 24 hours he suddenly apologised for any misdemeanour ever committed that may have caused any offence however slight, he happily claimed ownership of a foul temper & sullen attitude, & promised to keep his room tidy forever by way of repentence. OK, the last bit is a teeny-weeny exaggeration, but oh the power of chocolate & sultana biscuit cake!

The Husband had a rare night off from work, & so after a dinner of spinach, pea & bacon soup scooped up with wedges of cheese on toast, we settled down to watch 'Back on Jimmy's Farm'. One cannot help but be struck by the great compassion with which he & his team farm. His animals range freely & seem blissfully happy. Can you tell when a pig is smiling? Jim's favourite old boar, a fat lazy thing named Blaze, dropped dead of a heart-attack brought about by gluttony & too much sexual excitement. Bless him! What a way to go... He would have made excellent sausages.

Kitchen Goblins, Tea at Three & Stroppy Teenagers

I think we have goblins in our new kitchen. Not only are all the units falling apart, the dishwasher is broken & the oven has had to be replaced. The breakfast bar keeps collapsing & the high stools are wonky. The water escapes around the back of the sink, the hinges keep coming off the larder door & my plates do not fit in the wall cupboards. But apart from that... It is wonderful having so much space. At last I have work surfaces aplenty & do not have to chop & prepare everything on the draining board!

The news that Michael Jackson has been cleared of every single charge against him came late last night. Whatever did or did not occur with those young visitors to his Neverland Ranch, it remains incredulous that any parent would find it appropriate to allow their young child to stay overnight, let alone share a bed, with a grown man in his forties... What happened to parental responsibility? Let's just hope that Jackson has learnt a lesson about what passes for acceptable behaviour in the real world... I certainly won't be allowing my children to go round to his place for tea.

Talking of tea, since the move, I have re-jigged the children's routine & re-introduced tea at three o'clock , & it has rapidly become the favourite meal of the day. Homemade muffins, cake, soda bread, biscuits - just a little something to get us through until suppertime! Sausage & apricot casserole for dinner tonight was not enough to prevent Oldest Son flying into a mood with Middle Son & flouncing off to his room where he remained for the rest of the evening. I had hoped that the tantalising smells from the kitchen might lure him out of his pit to the table, but it was not to be. Oh the joys of adolescence...