Life At Home- Part 3

 There was a piano in the house. I have an idea it was a Steinway, which is supposed to be one of the best makers of pianos. It was an upright. My brother, Robert, was a proficient player and had passed several grades at school. My grandmother, Ferriman, was also a good piano player. She used to play at the annual village Christmas parties, which were held in the parish rooms every December. I do remember that she also had a piano in the lounge at Mill Farm, and on the music stand she had music scores for several well-known musicals, such as 'My Fair Lady' and 'Salad Days', which is the only musical I ever worked on when I was an ASM at the Everyman Theatre in Cheltenham. 

I mentioned in an earlier post that my mother had a drawer full of such things as paper bags, string, elastic bands, and so on. She also had a button box, stuffed full of buttons. It was always referred to as the Queen and Prince Philip tin, because it had HM Queen Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh on the lid. I think it might have been full of biscuits at one time and probably a souvenir of the Queen's coronation in 1953 or even her marriage to the Duke of Edinburgh in 1947. I often wondered where all those buttons came from. Perhaps from clothes that got worn out, and the buttons were removed. If we required a button, we always knew where to find one. Another hangover from the war was a 'make-do-and-mend' culture.

Christmas was shared between three families: my family, when we lived at Malting Farm, my uncle and aunt, Gemma and Michael Ferriman, at Mill Farm and then my Kendall aunt and uncle at Church Farm at Eyeworth, near Sandy. There was always a lot to eat. We used to go to each one in the afternoon of Christmas Day, after we had lunch. Whoever was hosting did the main 'eats' and the guests bought such things as trifles, puddings, mince pies and so on. My mother made a simply amazing trifle, using confectioners' custard, which in itself was quite difficult to make, using eggs and goodness knows what else and probably the base of the thing would be home-made Swiss roll or sponge, drenched in real sherry. 

My father could be a real snob regarding sherry. He always insisted on having Bristol Cream, which is one of the leading brands. But my mother bought in cooking sherry from the local shop and kept it in the Bristol Cream bottle for when she used it in trifle. One morning, my father had a visitor, Percy Brocklehurst, who used to do a lot of electrical work for my parents. They sat in the kitchen, drinking sherry. My mother was probably in the next room, most likely sewing or knitting. She could hear the conversation going on in the kitchen. My father said, 'This is probably the best sherry. You can't beat Bristol Cream!' My mother had a bit of a laugh to herself when she knew well that the 'Bristol Cream' they were drinking was actually cheap and cheerful cooking sherry!

Tea was at around 4 o'clock at home. My mother's cakes were very much regarded by visitors. She made a wide range, from the classic Victoria sponge to traditional shortbread, which I believe was made to a recipe handed down from one of my elderly aunts. This was made in a round tin and she used her fingers to imprint the design around the edge, and once cooked, it was taken out of the tin in triangles, with sugar sprinkled on the top.

People always seemed to turn up at the farmhouse just as tea was being served in the kitchen. Because it was a farm, there were a number of company reps who used to do business with my father, Banks of Sandy and Jordan's of Biggleswade for example. Also, family friends, such as Percy Brocklehurst (already mentioned above.) For some odd reason, he always said that 'I always have a boiled egg when I've been on a long journey!' No, don't ask me why. As a child, you tend to believe the odd things adults say. So it might well have been something he made up on the spur of the moment. But I don't remember him actually eating a boiled egg on such occasions! If there was an electrical job that needed doing, he was always able to do it, such as rewiring something, repairing anything or other job. He drove a Morris Minor and all his tools were kept in the boot, and it was easy to recognise the sound of his car arriving before he came into the house.

Baking Cakes (and the Art of Avoiding Life's Little Frustrations)

Monday. 6.30 a.m. It's Monday, and at 2 o'clock this afternoon there'll be the second Monday Club at the Oaktree Centre. Last week was well attended, not by Shenley Christian Fellowship members, but by several community members who are regular attendees. Plenty of cake and tea. Yesterday, after church, I was asked if I could make cakes for today's session. I have been checking ingredients in my cupboards and setting things up, as I will have to go out and stock up on some ingredients. I will go to Lidl later this morning. I have also printed out a recipe for Victoria sponge cake from Delia Smith's website.

11.00 a.m. I went to Lidl at just after 9 o'clock and stocked up on ingredients as I mentioned above. I really have to organize my kitchen, as there is a definite shortage of space. I had set a lot of it up around 6 o'clock, even before I'd taken Alfie out, but I wasn't going to do the circuit of Oldbrook Green because yesterday I walked at least, 11500 steps and was quite exhausted, but I am attempting to do far more steps. Anyway, as I write, the Victoria Sponge is finished, with raspberry jam as a filling and a sprinkling of icing sugar on top and it's in it's tin, ready to take to the Monday Club just before 2 o'clock. 

Tuesday. 3.05 a.m. Oh, dear! Alfie isn't very well. I thought he needed to go out, so I hurriedly got dressed and we were out on the grass (this was around 10 o'clock last night.) But he didn't do anything, just walking along the grass. We went back indoors and he did a mess. He seems to have the runs. Cleared it up. Not nice. But he'd done another, which I have just cleared up. I have had to change my duvet, due to another accident. I don't know what caused this mishap. I have decided to stay at home and not go to Camphill and sent an email. I feel disappointed, but I really can't leave him on his own all day in the flat.

2.30 p.m. As I have already reported, in above, Alfie hasn't been very well, which meant I didn't go to Camphill this morning, unfortunately. I thought it wasn't such a good idea to leave him on his own. I had a £25 Marks and Spencer voucher to spend, which had been earned from doing online surveys for a company called Maximiles. I wanted to spend it and decided to drive into the Central Shopping Centre. I got to my usual car park in Secklow Gate. I had hoped to pay using the RingoGo app on my iPhone, which I have used on quite a few occasions. It means you don't have to fiddle about with change and use the ticket machines and, if you need extra time to park you don't need to return to your car and can use the app to add your time and pay. But the app wouldn't open and for some unaccountable reason wanted the password to continue. This was somewhat exasperating, so I paid with a £1 coin I had in my pocket for such an eventuality. Having parked and paid I went into the shopping centre, first going to Boots to buy liquid Feroglobin which I have been taking for several months as a supplement. It has 14 minerals and nutrients in it. It's quite difficult to find it on the shelves, and had to ask an assistant to show me where it was. Having paid, I came out into the walkway and went to Nationwide to take out some money from my account and I walked towards NatWest to pay the cash into my account there. This NatWest branch has been there in all the time I have lived in Milton Keynes, but I discovered, much to my disappointment, that it had closed. It was then that I realized that there was a new branch at the other end of the shopping centre, opposite John Lewis and near Middleton Hall.

I crossed over the road from what had been NatWest and re-entered the shopping centre and went into Marks and Spencer, going up on the escalator to the menswear department and bought a set of shortie pyjamas and long pyjama bottoms. Easy and straightforward.

 If you know the shopping centre, you will know it must be a good half mile or so. On arrival outside, I found a machine which would allow me to pay through a slot, provided I used my debit card and my P.I.N. I couldn't get the machine to work, so I went inside the branch. I asked a member of staff whether I could pay the cash into my account via a teller. Yes, upstairs, I was told, although there was a queue. When I arrived upstairs there was indeed a queue, but the cashier/teller wasn't in place. Goodness knows, what was going on? Was it a tea break or something? The queue wasn't moving. I wanted to make a simple payment, that was all. It was at this point I thought to myself 'I'm turning into Victor Meldrew, the character in the sitcom 'One Foot In The Grave', who is constantly being frustrated by life's little upsets and is known for his line 'I don't believe it!'

There were several more ATMs nearby which could be used to pay in cash. I had to ask a bank staff member to help me operate the machine. You can use your card and your P.I.N. and then insert your banknotes through a slot. I then discovered that you can put them in a bundle and don't have to insert the notes individually.

After all the frustrations of A.T.M's and other things, it was time for a break, so I went into Costa on Middleton Hall. The other week I had a really great hot chocolate which had cream and bits of Kit Kat sprinkled on top. But, unfortunately, when I asked at the counter for another, I was told it was a special edition and they no longer sold them. So, I settled for a hot chocolate and cream. Well, why not? The after experiences of the day I think I deserved it.

So, that was my shopping trip! Nothing much else to report here. 

Cakes and Bakes

Tuesday. 8.20 a.m. I took Alfie out for his usual outing along Strudwick Drive at around 5.25. It was relatively mild thank goodness. No rain or excessive sunshine. On the way towards Oldbrook Green, there is an oak tree on the grassed area with bushes around in, just behind the bus stop. Alfie always stops there to have a sniff and a wee, but fortunately, he didn't see the black and white cat hiding behind some of the foliage. If he had there would most definitely have been a great deal of barking. The cat was very still and quiet. I think it must have realized that moving with a very vociferous dog was not in its own interests.

I'm back in the kitchen, baking cakes. I have just this minute put two tins of Victoria Sponge into the oven. They should be ready to remove in around 20 minutes. Closely following Delia Smith's recipe. I have actually doubled up the quantities as the first time I made a sponge it came out really think. Probably because I didn't include baking powder in the mixture. I presume it produces more air and that would make it rise far more. Just have to wait and see how this turns out.

Currently working on the plot for a new storyline. This will, hopefully, run concurrently with what I've already written. 

Later. 4.40 p.m. The Victoria sponge didn't come out quite as it should have done. Unfortunately, it hadn't been in the oven long enough. Either the oven wasn't set to quite the right temperature or the bake wasn't long enough. Just a couple more minutes I would have said. It tasted fine, but not up to my usual standards.

Wednesday. 6.00 a.m. Alfie and I did our usual thing and were out around 5.35 but he didn't intend to walk any further than he needed to, determinedly took me home to the flat when he'd done what he needed to. So that was that.

Milk went off again! I wanted to make a cup of tea yesterday evening and when I poured it out into my mug, it came out as yogurt, not that I would want to eat it. The 'best before' date was 4th August, so it should have lasted a good deal longer than it did, so that means no tea or breakfast cereal this morning- yet again! Why is this? I reckon it's a good deal older when it's dated at the dairy, so by the time you buy it, it's virtually out of date. Mystery, nevertheless.

I've been grappling with setting up my FitBit, which has been laying on the unit in my bedroom for months. I've managed to charge it (it is a Charge 3, for those who are interested.) which is something of an annoyance as I'm never sure it is charging when I put it in the charging device. You have to get the gold contacts to connect with those in the charging device and it should vibrate to show it's working. I have also managed to reset the time on it by using the app on my iPhone and it now seems fine. You can change the clock face and I have managed to set a new one, so it's up and running and I can keep a track of the number of steps walked during the day. So, another box ticked.

Saturday Musical Evening (and other things)

(Saturday)I was going to get ready to go to the musical evening at around 6.30 on Saturday evening. I went into my bedroom and for some unaccountable reason, I thought the wardrobe was going to collapse. There has been a problem with one of the doors on the front of this IKEA unit. One of the hinges has broken and it hangs on just one. It wouldn't take much to repair this, but, on going to our local IKEA to get a replacement hinge, I was informed that they don't use that type of hinge any more. Just typical that they don't stock such things as hinges or other items that don't get used on more modern pieces of furniture they sell. Anyway, it doesn't make a lot of sense probably now, but it occurred to me that the wardrobe was leaning forward. I don't know why I got that impression, but it looked like that and there was no way I was going to allow it to collapse. I think it gave this impression because of the door which doesn't close properly. Well, it didn't collapse, fortunately, and I was able to get dressed and then drive to Shenley to go to the Oaktree Centre for the musical evening, remembering to take the two Victoria sponges with me. I put them on the floor, in the footwell on the passenger-side in the front because I wasn't going to have the cakes ruined if I put them on the back seat and then shooting forward if I had to brake suddenly.

My two Victoria sponges were given pride of place on the counter at church and had clear plastic covers put over them. I did actually manage to eat a slice, and, although I say it myself, they turned out really well, light and fluffy. What would Paul Hollywood, Mary Berry or Prue Leith, judges on 'Great Britsh Bake-Off' have to say? I'll have to try other cake recipes. The very last slice was eaten on Sunday morning during the break between the two services. Made me very pleased to think that both cakes were consumed and not a piece left, so it must have been enjoyed, which is the best reason of all to make cakes!

As regards the musical evening. I'm just amazed at the talent on show, playing a wide range of different styles of music. Very enjoyable. There is going to be another of these evenings in a few month's time.

(Monday)I've been into the Milton Keynes Council offices this morning, because I had an appointment with the Homeless Prevention officer. It turns out I'm not actually homeless because I have a house to live in, but I'm not going to be able to remain in this house because of the cost of rent. They won't pay me the full amount of rent as housing benefit and I've now learnt that I'm not going to have the Death In Service payment because Carol came out of the system, no doubt at the time we lost the house in Crownhill and had to pay the debt off because of what Sam did to our bank account (I'm not going into any more detail than that, but I have described it all in an earlier blog post.) I rang Teachers' Pensions this morning to be told this. So I now know what my financial situation is and as a result will have to look for accommodation myself, having been given a list of agencies who might be able to help. I need a one-bedroom house or bungalow, with a bit of enclosed garden for Alfie. I really no longer need a three-bedroom property, so it makes a lot of sense.

I got back from the city centre and had something to eat. I had been into Greggs and bought a ploughman's lunch roll, some egg custard tarts and a small bottle of fresh orange juice. Very crafty, Greggs, because you queue up right next to all the enticing food items, so you can't avoid jam doughnuts or sausage rolls. Or other very fattening food which you shouldn't really eat if you're diabetic or have a health problem. They never put how much fat or sugar they contain or the number of calories, but generally Greggs are good, fairly cheap and good value and they've managed to put their stores in places where they know the public will go to buy their lunch or whatever.

Having eaten my lunch, sitting down in front of the television and watching the BBC lunchtime news, but wishing I hadn't bothered, because it was more about Brexit, which is about as enticing as having your eyes piked with a sharp stick. Boring and negative. I think I'll attempt to avoid any more television news until this thing has been resolved or MP's can get their act together and vote so the ting can move on and we can at least leave the EU, for good or ill.

It was such a warm and sunny afternoon I couldn't possibly spend the rest of the day indoors, so I decided to take Alfie out for a second walk. I think it was something of a surprise, as I very rarely take him out a second time. It causes such a stir and I see the other side of Alfie as soon as I make moves to take him out. Trying to clip his lead to the harness he wears causes him to turn into a sort of Tasmanian Devil, barking and jumping around. Anyhow, we did get outside and walked down the medway towards the Grand Union Canal, going under  the bridge at Marlborough Street, then walking along the tow path that runs besides the canal and back over the canal at the next bridge. 

Bakes and Birdies

(Wednesday) The Victoria sponge I made today was a good deal better than the first one, probably because I have now got a set of Salter's digital scales which I got from Amazon and which arrived yesterday evening. I think it's because the mechanical set weren't accurate enough to weigh metric. If you can't be more accurate it's unlikely that a cake is going to turn out as it should. I have had to cut the top down on one of the two layers because it was far too risen and it would mean the top half wouldn't sit properly. It meant that I could taste the result and it would seem to be really light and fluffy. I have now given the finished cake a layer of raspberry jam and completed both cakes with a dusting of icing sugar for good measure.

Sitting in the lounge and looking out the window, I have now seen a few birds visiting the feeding station. It has taken at least three weeks from replenishing the feeder and replacing and cleaning several of the hanging feeding containers, which have peanuts as well as other seeds in them. Quite encouraging and Carol would be so pleased as she loved to see the birds on the feeding station.

(Saturday)I took the two Victoria sponges to the 'Freed To Lead' course at the Oaktree Centre on Thursday evening. They were very much appreciated. It seems I could be supplying the café in the centre which is re-opening in a few week's time.  I took photos with my new iPhone and posted them on Facebook. Someone had the cheek to ask if someone had helped me to make them! Absolutely not.

I've made another sponge for my neighbour's, Garry and Shelly. I think they liked it. Well, I had a taste of the sponge I had to trim off in order to make the bottom layer level so the top one would sit on it it level. I put raspberry jam in the middle and then dusted it with king sugar, which is what I did with the first two. The worst job is cutting out the greaseproof paper which is used to line the tins, using Bertolli spread to stick the greaseproof paper to the inside of the tins. But this time I forgot to line the sides, but it didn't matter because the cakes came out of the tins without sticking.

I've done some more work on the creative writing course. I'm taking notes as I go along. Because I haven't done any writing for so long, it was quite difficult to get back into a writing routine, so it seemed a good idea to go through some of the book. Rather like if an athlete hasn't been involved in whatever sport, running for example, for some time, they would need to do some exercises or do a walk-up before attempting to run a race or whatever. I just needed to flex my creative muscles and get back in some sort of shape before putting pen to paper once more.

Baking and Driving

I've been baking. Now, there's a thing. I had made Victoria sponges before, but intended taking a couple along to the Thursday-evening 'Freed To Lead' session. I've been involved in this course at the Oaktree Centre, home of Shenley Christian Centre, for the last couple of months and wanted to contribute something in the catering line. I have bought the necessary equipment from Sainsbury's, two cake tins, a pallet knife, cooling rack as well as the ingredients, as suggested by Delia Smith on her website and printed out her recipe from the website. I already have a mechanical set of scales, but when I came to use them, they're not particularly accurate for weighing out metric weight so the cakes I have already made have come out fine but probably would be better if I could weight more accurately, so I have ordered a set from Amazon, made by a reputable manufacturer, Salter, which should, hopefully arrive sometime today. So I will be able to make the second cake once these scales arrive. I'll have to wait and see how things turn out, literally, once I have made the second cake.

I took out Alfie around 6.30 this morning. It was quite mild, no wind blowing, no ice on the car windscreen. The grass in Eaglestone Park has been mown. I wasn't aware yesterday, but I think I heard the mower, but not sure what it was. There's quite an acreage to cover so it must have taken some time, no doubt one of those ride-on mowers. They missed  bit, a sort of triangle of grass, but never mind. Only problem with them mowing the grass was that, when I got home I had grass stuck to my shoes. Just annoying. Never mind.

I've been to Camphill this morning. I thought it a good idea to leave the house around 8.30 because I knew the traffic was going to be heavy. I drove round the inner ring road to come out of Eaglestone near the shop and then left onto Chaffron Way where traffic cab build up approaching the Four Bridges roundabout, but it wasn't too bad, fortunately. I then went round the roundabout and headed back towards the Marlborough Street roundabout where the traffic was fairly heavy, but I carried on along Chaffron Way. A large four-by-four insisted on tailgating me until I got to the roundabout just beyond Waitrose at Oakgrove. Can't people think that some people are quite happy driving at a reasonably safe speed, and that it's dangerous to tailgate another car? If you come to close behind and I have to brake suddenly, you will run into the back of my car and cause quite a nasty accident, or don't they see this? Apparently not. They just want the road to themselves and you out the way.

I got to Camphill and parked in the carpark (where else would you park? Crazy really.) I then walked into the office and the lady there took me to the class doing work on computers, because she thought that was where I was meant to be, but after about half an hour another lady came in and said I was going to be working with residents in the theatre, so I was taken there and introduced to the 'actors' who were sitting in a row. I had to give them a sort of introduction to myself and they all introduced themselves. A very talkative inductive bunch. The leader of the group and one other assistant gave me a sort of run-down of what they had been doing; a project which uses the 'Three Little Pigs' as the basis for a play and video to explain 'Stranger Danger.' One of the group wasn't so good at remembering his lines, so they went through them, using what they described as osmosis to retain and learn these lines. As the lines are in verse, it would make it a good deal easier to remember, well, it would if it was me. I wasn't allowed to get away with just observing, I had to join in with them, and the whole group had to repeat the lines. Considering these are guys (and when I say 'guys', I'm referring to both sexes.) who probably don't have good communication skills (but some of them had extremely good communication skills!) it was quite amazing how well they did all this. I worked as a student support assistant at Barnfield College at the Westbourne Centre in Bedford, and I got involved with the drama students and it was really amazing what some of those guys achieved.

Mid-way through the morning, a man who I believe was previously a BBC television producer (forget his name now) and who is a governor of Camphill, came in to start work on the video they are making. He had been editing footage which they had been filming over the past few weeks and he showed the rough footage to us and I was really impressed by what he had done and what the students had achieved. Using a lot of technology, such as green-screen, to create a lot of the effects, such backgrounds. The film/video isn't complete. It needs sound extra work doing on it. Sounds which we helped record, will be added and a voice-over and then it's complete. I'm looking forward to going back next Tuesday to continue working at Camphill.

I had hoped to try out their café at Camphill, but it's closed. The chef/cook/baker who works in the kitchens apparently is in the Himalayas, not sure exactly what she's doing there, climbing a mountain, (not sure whether it's Everest.) so the café is closed at the moment, but hopefully it will be open agin once she returns. I'm really looking forward to trying the bread she makes.

No doubt there will be some paperwork to be completed, stuff like a disclosure (formerly called a C.R.B. check (Criminal Records Bureau) before I can work at Camphill. But  a really positive time spent there.

Fourth Chemotherapy Cycle

We had a visit from Carol's cousin Andrew yesterday morning. We were interested to hear about his ministry working with children in Romania. Carol is going to be able to help with some teaching material which will be great to give her a focus away from chemotherapy and it's side effects. She has been making some cakes, a really tasty Victoria sponge as well as some cup-cakes. We may buy an electric  hand mixer which should make things quicker and easier. The only problem is, once the cakes are made, resisting the temptation to actually eat them is quite difficult as they are very tasty and somewhat moorish!

This blog post is being written as I'm sitting with Carol in the Oncology Unit at Milton Keynes hospital. I'm making the most of having free wi-fi within the hospital. Writing as things are actually happening allows the post to be a good deal more fresh in my mind that it would have been if I'd written it completely from memory as it might have been if i'd written it later when I'd got home.

We had to be at the oncology suite at 11 a.m. Alfie insisted on running upstair when we were about to leave the house. It would have been better for him to be left in the kitchen but as soon as we said 'kitchen, Alfie!' he ran upstairs to our bedroom and wouldn't be budged. I closed the door, but as soon as I got downstairs he began barking and it was obvious he didn't like being shut in. And who, in all honesty, could blame him?

We gave ourselves plenty of time as it's not always easy to get a parking space later in the day. Which was true when we arrived at the carpark behind the oncology department. I drove in but absolutely no spaces so I immediately drove out and left Carol to take our bags of things in and report to the reception in the Oncology department. So I had to drive round the ring road and find a space at the front of the hospital in the ground-level carpark. I then had to walk round the hospital site to get to the oncology department. You would think that there would be a dedicated carpark for those using the oncology department or at least who use the facilities on a more regular basis. But that would be far too easy.

 It's been a a particularly windy day, which we noticed when we left the house earlier. All manner of bits of paper and rubbish being blown around.

Trying to keep oneself occupied while Carol has her chemotherapy is the main thing about spending several hours in the oncology department. Carol was soon connected to the various drips and was plugged in when I got back from parking the car. Carol has her crochet. She's even made a lovely cover for this MacBook, and is making some sort of bag which can be sold in the Macmillan unit to raise funds. I'm writing this, obviously, as well as reading 'Goodbye Christopher Robin,' by Anne Thwaite, about how A.A. Milne came to write the 'Winnie The Pooh' books in the 1920s. He had been a relatively successful playwright and contributor to such magazines as 'Punch,' but nowadays the plays are almost forgotten, and 'Pooh' is what he's best remembered for today. Rather like J.M. Barrie who's playwriting efforts were over-shadowed by Peter Pan. Even Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle was stuck with Sherlock Holmes, who he killed off at the Reichenbach Falls but had to bring him back eventually because of public pressure.

Food Favourites (And some not quite so)

I have written extensively about my school days and in particular at Rushmoor School in Bedford. Of the many not quite so pleasant memories of that establishment must surely be the totally disgusting dinner that was served up. More like slopped up. I have absolutely no idea how much my father had to fork out to send me there, but I would have hoped if I had a son and I was paying for their education, I would hope the food that was dished up was a good deal better. I think they could have made more effort to make it, at least, half edible. I think most people when they look back on their school days (which, you keep being reminded are supposed to be 'the happiest of your life.') it's generally the dinners that get mentioned the most frequently if it's for how bad they are, or even, how good. I can remember gristly, chewy meat. What sort it was, I can hardly imagine. I should think beef or pork, but possibly a horse, mule or donkey. More likely road-kill from some country road in and around Bedfordshire. Sorry, I know we've had food scares in the past. But expecting your progeny to eat such disgusting food should come under some form of an act of parliament for child cruelty in this day and age.  I don't know about the time I was at school. You just put up with it and didn't make any sort of fuss. Liver, I seem to recall, looking like and having the consistency of rubber erasers and tasting bitter, and swimming in gravy. No, struggling to survive. Usually watered-down, like the custard. I think they could make a reasonably fine sponge pudding, but then they ruined it with lumpy custard. But tell me, how difficult is it to make the custard, minus the lumps? Shove it through a sieve to remove the lumps and then boil it to death. Similarly, cabbage, which has been boiled to within an inch of its life. And stinking the place out to high heaven. Enough to put anyone off for life, and it probably has. Rice pudding was another staple. Actually, to tell the truth, I do actually like rice pudding. They served it up with watered-down treacle I seem to remember. I've heard of stretching things until it breaks, like a piece of elastic (yes, another metaphor. The liver and meat had the texture of elastic. Chew it until your jaw ached!) Which reminds me that once, at Rushmoor, one dinner time they served up plain boiled rice. I think it might, on reflection, have started out being a good old fashioned rice pud, but someone forgot that it's made with milk. So we were expected to eat it, along with very watered-down treacle. Not nice. Can you imagine being made to sit and eat it until it was all gone? That Mrs Richardson, who presided over the piano-playing for assembly (see my earlier post.) was in control of the ladle and spoon, doling out the dinners, slapping the custard, gravy and other comestibles onto our plates as we queued up, in a similar fashion to the inmates of the workhouse in 'Oliver Twist.' We had liver, as I've said. Pretty disgusting. I expect it put a lot of people off liver- for life. No 'asking for more' as you can imagine. I think even poor old Oliver would have passed on the rubber-consistency of this. I actually rather like liver, as an adult. I don't have a problem with it and know how to cook it, slowly, in a nice rich gravy. It's quite nice, for a change. It's a cheap meal and is good for you. It contains iron, amongst other things. But the thought of eating boiled rice, on it's own, with thin, watered-down treacle, that was just disgusting. 

My mother was a very good cook. She made plain, simple food. As there were seven of us living at home, five of us brothers and my mother and father, what you had put in front of you, you were expected to eat up and not leave anything. No room for finicky eaters. I don't think my mother would have put up with such behaviour, and certainly not my father. We had porridge for breakfast. Actually, even as an adult, I quite like porridge, so long as I'm making it and it's not lumpy. Better for you, and a good deal cheaper, than sugar-filled cereals from a packet.  I don't think we ever had any other cereal such as Rice Krispies, Sugar Puffs or even Corn Flakes until I was perhaps around 12 years old. Also, bacon and eggs. A good old fry-up, because, being a farm, my father and two eldest brothers needed a substantial breakfast each morning as they would have got up early, around 5.30- 6.00, to feed the cattle and other animals and do other early-morning jobs, and then come into the house to have their breakfast at 7-8 o'clock. That was after they left school.

Sunday lunch we'd usually have a roast, such as chicken, beef, pork or lamb. Naturally, if it was beef or pork it might possibly be home-produced. And with the roast, roast potatoes and other vegetables from the garden. My father grew Brussel sprouts on the farm, which were sent off to Smithfield Market, and we had with our meal. A much larger variety than the tiny variety that you'll find in your average supermarket. For pudding, something like sponge pudding and custard (although I don't remember having custard. Probably cream, straight from the cow which was reserved for the house. Something I don't expect would be allowed today, what with the E.U. and all the regulations that go with it. The cattle were tested for T.B. or whatever it was once a year, can't remember what else for, to fit the current regulations. I just know that you wouldn't be able to drink 'raw' untreated milk. I have to say that it tasted a good deal better than pasteurised milk, and the cream was thicker and richer. We also had a lot of fruit from the garden, such as strawberries, raspberries and rhubarb, when in season, and ate it stewed with more cream, or in a sponge pudding of some sort. Also, celery and asparagus, which, looking back, we were very fortunate to have growing in the garden. When you see these things in a supermarket, and the price they charge, I realise more than ever how lucky we were to be able to eat these fruit and vegetables. There was a quite substantial orchard at Malting Farm, with plenty of plum, apple and pear trees in it. Sadly, the last time I went to the farm I saw that it had all been removed and the land used  as animal pens. I suppose the cost of maintaining it all was too much and was better being used for the sheep and other farm animals.

My mother was a good baker and we had ample cakes and other delights for tea. I don't think she ever bought a cake, although I seemed to remember her buying the odd treat from a cake shop in Harrowden Road, on the road going into Bedford. Doughnuts, filled with jam, as well as little cakes in fancy paper trays, I think called Viennese Whirls, made, I think of choux pastry and with a dob of bright red jam on top. Not jam probably, more like a thick gooey substance with a sweet over-flavoured taste. She was a dab-hand at making shortbread, I believe being given the recipe from one of my father's Scottish relatives. There is a certain knack to making this Scottish delicacy, made of real butter and it has to be kneaded carefully. Just delicious, cut into triangles and sprinkled with sugar. Also, scones with cream and jam, Victoria sponges, also filled with jam (I'm quite good at making them.) as well as fruit cakes and her piece-de-resistance, cream slices, which had not jam and cream in them, but confectioner's custard, which is quite difficult to make. Tea was at around 4.00 p.m. and you can see why we had so many visitors to the farm, usually 'reps' from the various companies who did business with the farm. They would not only get an order out of my father, but a decent cup of tea, a piece of cake and a chat, before they got back in their cars and drove back to wherever their company was based, such as Biggleswade or Sandy, which are further up the road going towards the A1.

My grandmother, who lived at Mill Farm, made rock cakes, and she covered them with little seeds I think they were caraway seeds. I didn't particularly like them as a child. If you went to tea you weren't expected to pick and choose. You couldn't be finicky. You ate what was put in front of you. So, if you found yourself eating something you didn't like (such as the aforementioned seeded rock cakes) you put up and shut up. I do remember though, one family (who shall remain nameless) coming to tea with their two children who would have been quite young at the time, and my mother had made her usually delicious teas with plenty of cake (although the rule was generally 'bread before cake' in our household.) and there was a plate full of delicious-looking little cakes (probably filled with jam and cream.) One of these children had an eye for the plate of cakes and was determined to get on. So, in order that one, in particular, was taken for him to consume, he licked a finger and then stuck it in one of the cakes and said 'that one's for me!' meaning that, because he'd shoved his finger into it with a licked finger, no one else would possibly want to eat it! Not a particularly pleasant little boy, I must say, and I'm not entirely sure what my mother made of this strategy to get one of her delicious cakes!

As for some  other of my favourite foods: I like pancakes, and I'm fairly good at making them myself. As it's Shrove Tuesday this week ('Pancake Day') I shall no doubt be making some myself. The knack is being able to make a good batter and leaving it to stand for well over an hour. Whisking the batter is the secret. Also, making batter for Yorkshire pudding, making sure the oven is hot and the pan you cook it in has hot oil in it before you put in the batter. I like mine crisp and crunch with a most or soggy centre.My grandfather liked his Yorkshire pudding soggy and I remember going to lunch with my grandparents and my grandfather deliberately slammed the oven door when we had Yorkshire pudding with our roast beef to make sure they sunk and wouldn't go crunchy! I also like bread and butter pudding, so simple to make, but easy to make. I'm good at making that also.