Reflections in, on and round about…with a lot of cooking on the side
It's Mothers' Day today. Growing up, Mothers' Day was not a thing. I do, though, remember sermons about Mothering Sunday. Until I went to boarding school where peer group pressure made me pay attention and "do the right thing". My mother's response was less than enthusiastic which, with hindsight, I still don't understand. Was I … Continue reading Musings on Mothers, Motherhood and Choices
An opening word - or three I wrote this post as an experiment in November 2018 in response to a challenge: pick one favourite song. For me, that is a virtually impossible task. I have favourites depending on my mood, what I'm hearing, the context, where I am... I delighted in rising to that challenge … Continue reading The soundtrack to my life – a kind of musical “back story”
It seems I've written quite a bit about sandwiches over the years. They were the subject of one of my earliest (and surviving) blog posts. Given that a sandwich is food - a filling - wrapped up - or between two slices of some sort of bread - I really have. Quite something given that … Continue reading Sandwich Memories
She came into the kitchen, clearly distressed, and asked, "Do you vear licenses?" pointing at her eyes. "Umm....ye-e-s..." "So could I pliz have some of zat liqvid to clean mine?" Then the penny dropped. Lenses. Contact lenses. I had taken a flyer and thought that our Ukranian house guest was talking about prescription spectacles. This … Continue reading Of licenses, liars and scrambled eggs
When I grew up, Halloween wasn't a thing. And it was. In the 1970s, Halloween didn't feature on the South African calendar. Somehow, though, it was always mentioned in our house. By my father. It had been a thing in his childhood and he'd talk of the night the spirits fly. He believed in things … Continue reading Halloween: memories from the past, and not-too-distant past
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?
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