Reflections in, on and round about…with a lot of cooking on the side
Stories that don’t fit elsewhere and add to the rich fabric of life….
I'm in a pickle: in my day job, we are reaching the end of a project which means that a deadline is looming. My week was long, very hot and I had writer's block. I'm tired. My colleagues are tired and stressed. A bit of a pickle. And pickles need time. I've not had much of that lately, it seems.
I can't remember the first time I ate this dessert. It's one of our favourites - when I "do" dessert. I don't often. I don't have a sweet tooth. I am was not much of a baker. My chef friend and market pal reckons mine are among the best she's tasted. I brimmed with pride … Continue reading Marvelous Malva
Around May 2017, around the time, my regular blogs became increasingly sparse, as one chapter in my life ended, and others began. One of these was Sunday Suppers @ The Sandbag House. Two years later we were still doing it. Menus went out weekly to a WhatsApp group and via various social media and e-news … Continue reading Sunday Suppers: A season past?
Fire is devastating: we had a fire in the mountains above our village in spring (September) 2014. It burned for what seemed like a month and because, to start with, it was in inaccessible parts of the mountain, it could not be effectively fought. So it spread and threatened prime agricultural land and vineyards. So … Continue reading When Cape Town Burned
In December 1999, I spent my last Christmas with my father. Three days earlier, we'd bade my mother a final farewell. As I've probably said before, her death was a shock. Six weeks prior, she'd had surgery. By all accounts, it was successful although the procedure meant a protracted stay in hospital. Cleared of nasties, … Continue reading Not killing mother
Foreword Health is a personal matter until it’s a matter of public health. Like when the world is in the grips of a pandemic as it is now. I would not normally (I don’t think) share the sordid details of my illnesses. I qualify that because I suffer, happily, from rude health. The rationale for … Continue reading I changed my mind. I got the jab
I only ever knew one grandparent. It's a partly a function of the era in which I grew up and partly because we literally lived continents apart. John and Mary Cameron, late 1950s or early 1960s These are my Scottish grandparents. My father's father, John Cameron, died before I was born. How long before? I … Continue reading Grandparents, guides and mentors
It's a funny old world we live in. As I write, we are in day 501 of South Africa's National State of Emergency (aka lockdown), and thanks to the vagaries of the Interweb and erstwhile hosts, this is the second iteration of a post with this recipe. The original post was three years ago. How … Continue reading It’s no bull…
What's in a name? You may well ask. My parents rarely, if ever actually called me "Fiona", even though it was the name they chose for me. My father only ever used my given name if he was getting serious about something. For years I loathed it. Why? Thank you for asking. But first: They … Continue reading What’s in a name?
I have been blogging since February 2014. That's more than seven years, I now realise. It's been an interesting journey that began, just focusing on food and recipes. Because of a chance remark on Facebook. It was not without trepidation that I registered on WordPress; it was at least a week, if not more, before … Continue reading Embracing Silver, Gold and Onyx