Food, Glorious Food....

I am back home for a brief break before heading off to visit elder son tomorrow until 2 January.

I had heard that a lot of preparations and cooking had been going on at the home of the best sister in the world, and this turned out to be an understatement.

On Christmas Eve, we had a Moroccan themed meal, starting with Chicken B’Stille, which is a pie in filo pastry rather than rough puff and so on – in fact the pastry strictly should be a hand moulded one (but life’s too short) I am not sure of the ingredients, but it was all of a moist, minced texture with some chicken pieces top and bottom. I gather that traditionally this is eaten with the hand, reaching down into the pie and pulling out what you wish, however in this case it was served up on a plate.

The main course was a tagine served with cous cous, again yummy.

Pudding was once again adhering to the Moroccan theme, being a very rich rice pudding flavoured with rose water and cardamom.

Christmas Day started off with thick slices of smoked salmon and continental cold meats which we rolled in lovely thin pancakes with some fresh lemon on the side. At this point I should also mention the Buck’s fizz, made with real home freshly squeezed orange juice and real champagne.

Dinner started with goose terrine and goose liver pate served with green salad and oatcakes. This was followed with roast goose, gravy and apple sauce together with roast vegetables – potatoes, carrots, onion, white turnip, fennel all roasted in goose fat. Pudding was figgy pudding with real home made custard and fresh figs.

Boxing Day was a little lighter, although even then more potatoes and vegetables were roasted to go with the cold roast goose, .and we started with the terrine and pate and green salad. I even managed to eat some more rice pudding as it was so good.

I give hearty thanks to Le Chef and The Best Sister in the World for putting on such a wonderful show, and coping with the comings and goings of so many of us,

Christmas Eve

Today is that magical day when we await the birth of Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Many will go to a Christingle service (for children, although adults are allowed too). The children arrive with an orange stuck with a candle and stuck with cocktail sticks bearing fruit. There is a short sermon around this theme, with the orange representing the world, the candle (lit at the appropriate time) representing the Light of the World, and the fruits representing the fruits of the earth.

Later on is the Watchnight Service starting tonight and continuing over to Christmas Day.

And tomorrow, which is Christmas Day itself.

It is easy, amid all the excitement of opening presents and eating (and drinking) too much, or at least an elegant sufficiency to forget the meaning of Christmas, so keep a quiet corner of your heart for this.

For any readers who are not Christian, may I wish you, in the spirit of ecumenism, a very happy holiday.

I am off to spend a few days with the best sister in the world, together with other family members coming and going, then I am going to spend a few days with elder son and family, returning next year, so probably won't be blogging till I come home.

Memories (2)

As mentioned in my post of 14 December, I am posting a series of stories collected in a booklet called “Memories”, so I interrupt the tale of a cycle ride in Israel to give you the second instalment. The first was of a child evacuee and here is one of an adult evacuee

Thursday's Child Has Far To Go by Joan

I was born in 1923 at the home of my mother's parents, a small holding just 9 miles from Land's End. My father was in the Royal Navy and when I was 2 years old he left the Navy so that he and my mother could build a life together. His new job was to take us to Aberystwyth in Wales where we remained for about three years before moving to Plymouth where he worked in the Dockyard. Dad's next move was to Torquay where I lived with them until I left home to be a nurse in Plymouth Hospital.

During the blitz it became impossible to carry out major surgery at the hospital because of the sudden power failures in the theatre, of which there were many. This meant that all the surgical procedures were moved to a cottage hospital in Tavistock where I lived until my marriage in 1943.

The day after our wedding I went with my husband to the Isle of Man where he was in respite after surviving the sinking of his ship in Murmansk. I had a great time in Douglas because food there came from Ireland and we were well fed after days of severe rationing at home. We stayed there for six months when he was again allocated to a ship.

I returned to Torquay to my parents where I got a job with the Torquay Nurses Co-op caring for people in their homes. It was during this time that I became pregnant with my eldest son and it was necessary for me to get a home together. I returned to Plymouth and set up home as my husband would return to his old job at Plymouth Dockyard on his discharge from the Navy.

Just when we got our flat furnished my husband said he had two weeks leave which was a generous surprise during the war. What we did not know was that he was being sent to Hong Kong to drive out the Japanese invaders. My little boy was born and never saw his father until he was nearly two and a half years old; that was a very hard experience.When Edgar came home from Hong Kong he was immediately demobbed and was able to begin work again at the Dockyard and we settled down to a daily routine; soon after my second son was born.

In 1961 my husband came home from work one day and said, "I've got promotion and I am being sent to Rosyth!" We were advised by the Dockyard not to buy property at that time in case he was moved back to Plymouth and there was a problem selling it. It is amazing to remember that we lived our first year in a property belonging to Stephens Bakery in Buchanan Street; little did I know then that I would end up living round the corner.

We then moved into the new Dockyard houses in Rosyth on their completion.In 1968 both of our sons were married and we were sent back to Plymouth for three years, returning to Rosyth Dockyard in 1971. This time we decided to buy a bungalow in Dunfermline where we lived for 32 years. We were married for 57 years when my dear husband died and I can truly say that 'Psalm23' has been my strength through all the changes and vicissitudes of life.

Yes, this particular Thursday's Child had far to go.


This lady also describes how one of her first duties as a nurse in the hospital was to cut up butter into 100 1 oz portions, each portion being the ration for one nurse for a whole week. She now has a great grand child who is going to have "a little bruvver" soon.

Israel Day 7, Bike Ride Day 2

Ha Goshrim is a lovely part of Israel. Up here in the North there’s a lot of greenery around: agriculture is in full swing and is obviously well-watered. Mount Hermon has no snow at this time of year – too early – but the limestone stores huge quantities of water which discharge into the Hula valley, on into Lake Kinneret (Galilee) and the Jordan River.

Up early and a communal breakfast. Time for a prayer and a stretch before we mount the bikes, along with a last-minute check. Main luggage has gone into the big van which also carries spares and repairs; day-sacks with anything we might need during the day are in the little van with the water and fruit. Here we are just before starting.

Our guide, Ami, is in the blue shirt, my Camelbak is on the ground in front of me. As well as 2.1 litres of water, there is room for the camera and a few small things. Later on I’ll add my Bible.
The day starts cool, but comfortable in our t-shirts. As we leave on the flat, level roads of the Hula valley, the first few miles are an easy warm-up for us. I keep up with the front three or four: I sense that I’ll find it harder on the hills, and being near the front gives me more room to lose ground before I get to the back. I am still a little worried about not being strong enough to keep up, as all my training has been on my own.

We’re all wearing sunscreen: I hadn’t bothered while in Jerusalem. Although it was warm there, the sun wasn’t strong enough to cause problems while walking bare-armed. I now had a light tan but I didn’t want to take chances with sun-burn on the ride. I’ve also got a UV screening neck-scarf on. The Buff, as it’s called, will prove light and comfortable throughout the ride.

After a while we turn off the main roads, where we have been on a wide tarred shoulder, and onto the agricultural tracks. Rough, but still flat, we enter the Hula nature reserve: the drained Lake Hula (you’ll see this lake in old Bible atlases) has been partially reflooded, and forms a main stopping point for many birds migrating South to Africa along the Rift valley.

We stop for water and fruit from the small van, and many photos of the pelicans and cranes. There are also many otters: often close by or even on the tracks, they soon disappear if we stop and get the cameras out. However, patient waiting by an irrigation ditch eventually paid off.

Back onto the road for a short stretch up out of the old lake basin, then onto a long track above the infant Jordan heading South. At this point a pedal crank fell off my bike: Avi, the maintenance man, was there to fix it, and I soon caught up.

This was a hot slog along a rough track, but gradually the river sank below us until we came out on the edge of the hills above the Sea of Galilee (pictured).

Now we rejoined a tarred road and shot downhill to the lakeside; fast enough to overtake a lorry on the way down. We turned right to follow the West bank for a few miles until we arrived at Kphar Nahum – or Capernaum, as we would know it.

Stopping at an open-air restaurant, we enjoyed lunch of St Peter’s fish and pitta pockets of salad. This took a while, but eventually, much refreshed, we took a detour into the ruins of the ancient Biblical town. Ami had asked me (that morning, just before setting off!) to read something about the town from the Bible while we were here, and we were able to do this in the new Franciscan Church. This sits like a space-ship (literally – it’s disc-shaped) above the ruins of a Byzantine church that may have been built on the ruins of St Peter’s family home.
The Church has a central glass floor to enable us to see the ruins from above. The picture shows the view under the Church from the steps outside.

Time was marching on, and we had ‘miles to go and promises to keep before we sleep’. Back onto the road we retraced our route to the junction from the North, then continued round the North end of the Sea of Galilee. Darkness fell as we crossed the Jordan’s entry into the sea and turned South down the East bank.

We didn’t have lights, as we weren’t expecting to cycle in the dark. I had the little keyring led torch I’d bought to go through Hezekiah’s tunnel – I’d put it on a brake cable so I would know which bike was mine – and that gave me a little light for comfort. Thankfully there was a broad hard shoulder to this road so we weren’t in the line of traffic. Across the Sea, the lights of Tiberias kept us company as we cycled on.

Finally we got to Kibbutz Ein Gev at about 6.30 pm, although it felt much later. Here we had a chalet for two; with a bed in the lounge and a separate bedroom we could enjoy some privacy. After dinner, orientation (route for the next day) and prayers, there was time for a beer with some of the guys before retiring to bed.

Israel Day 6

Day 6. Bike Ride Day 1.

I slept through the 4 am alarm, but amazingly woke at 4.18 am and was shaved, showered and out in front of the hotel for 4.45 am. My Sherut arrived a couple of minutes later, and off we went to wind our way through Jerusalem picking up our other passengers. Ended up getting into an interesting conversation with the Professor of a Reformed Rabbinical school in London – though I can’t remember much of it now (wonder why?).

As we left the city it grew steadily lighter, travelling through the mountains and into the coastal plain, which is a huge contrast. At the airport I found the group at the door, waiting for someone’s luggage which, it turned out, hadn’t left Heathrow. We all stood around looking a bit dazed at that time of the day. The picture shows me just about to identify myself to the group, who are all standing around ignoring me. Gordon Reid, Minister of Dunfermline: Gillespie Memorial and chaplain to the ride, can be seen facing the camera on the right.

We were introduced to our Tour Guide, Ami, an Israeli who worked for Classic Tours, and then we piled on to the coach, where most promptly fell asleep.

Drove up to Nazareth in the Galileean hills, where we stopped at Nazareth Hospital to see what the money we were raising was going to be used for. The front was a modern, four-story wing, but the rear was the original 1912 building where the operating theatres were located. Although they had been refurbished and re-equipped, most recently with a new extraction system in 2000, the theatres were just not able to meet modern standards.

So our money would go towards a new theatre suite to built on top of the modern wing – and to be bomb-proof, following the rocket attacks a couple of years ago, some of which landed in the hospital grounds. Interestingly, they have recently discovered that part of the hospital land, undeveloped, is actually the site of the original Nazareth village. Jesus woz here!

After our tour of the hospital and a breakfast in the staff canteen we were given a presentation in the large nursing school lecture theatre and then set off to the North, following the rift valley to the foot of Mount Hermon.

This was Kibbutz Ha Goshrim, our first stop and about ten miles from Biblical Dan (and not much further from Lebanon or Syria). Our first task was to get fitted to our bikes: much adjusting of saddles, checking of brakes and gears and inflating tyres. A bang announced that someone was too enthusiastic with the foot-pump.

After dinner, orientation and a short act of worship, it was off to bed, two to a room. Apparently Clive snores, but I never found out – I got my snoring in first.

Bridge Club Hat Night

Yesterday evening was the Bridge Club Hat Night. We were to get there at 6.30 for 7pm and I had been fortunate to secure a partner from the "Monday afternoon group" to go with. There was a magnificent buffet laid on, with smoked salmon and cream cheese on blinis, little tarts with various fillings, biscuits spread with different fillings ( I particularly liked the onion relish) a cheese board, grapes, sandwiches, chicken drumsticks and so on, followed by meringue nests with cream and raspberry, mince pies with icing, Christmas cake and so on. Everything was in bite sizes and so was easy to eat. There were numerous drinks: various soft drinks and red and white wine. As a driver, I stuck to sparkling water.

"But what about the bridge", I hear you cry.

After we had eaten we had to select one from a pile of blank white cards, then afterwards turn it over and it told you which table and which seat at that table you would play. I picked table 10, playing South and found myself partnering a lady I have played with before and whom I like. There were 42 at the evening, so we played 22 boards. I don't know how well we did, but we really enjoyed ourselves.

We finished after 11 pm, so I cut and ran (or at least staggered) and came home.

Badly parked as usual, but worse than usual as I was told off this morning for taking up 2 parking places! This was because I could not see the bay markings in the dark, and was not important as I was away just after 9am for a doctor's appointment.

After checking me over and telling me off for a) putting myself at risk by getting down to mop a spill, b) for not calling for an ambulance and c) for even contemplating sleeping on the floor, he has agreed that the elastic stockings should be discontinued. He also reviewed my medications and pronounced that, although they are a lot, each one is necessary. I concur with that.

We wished each other a Merry Christmas and I came back via the filling station as the petrol level was getting very low. Parking (and even reverse parking this time) was a little squint but was at least entirely within the bay.

Not a Fall

Yesterday after bridge I came back and had a cup of tea with the Scrabble buddies then went home and had shepherd's pie for my tea. Actually it was half of one. After tea I got down on my hands and knees to mop up a spill, then couldn't get up. In the end it took 2 hours - and I came very close to heaving the blanket, downie and a couple of pillows down and going to sleep on the floor.

However, a last determined effort got me up.

It was particularly disappointing as I had managed at daughter's, including a sleepover, with no aids.

One or two of my readers have been urging me to get one of these "round the neck" alarms and I have asked the House Manager to look into it, as she said she didn't know offhand, but that it was "expensive".

It wouldn't have made any difference with last night as I passed alarm cords more than once.

I think I was just too stubborn/proud/independent/stupid to ask for help again.

Today I have carpet burns to the knees and elbows, and bruised toes.

I have now learned that if something gets spilled it is better to leave it!

Never mind, it will all be made better by this evening's bridge hat night.