The Perpetual Chicken

Today is day 3 of the residence in our house of the perpetual chicken.

She started her life with us…well, not so much life  really as the final post mortem phase of her corporeal existence…She started her sojourn with us as the Sunday roast, served with roasties and 3 types of veg. She was a well stacked bird. Her ample breasts would (proportionally speaking) put Jordan to shame and she cost a mere £5 from Sainsbury’s, so a good deal cheaper too, though somewhat classier. (more…)

Health Hazards of Homegrown Fruit

What could be healthier than growing your own, organic (assuming you don’t use pesticides) fruit, I hear you ask. It has to be better than paying for fruit from the supermarket, right? Well, let me tell you.


Take ye Onyons

It seems that the modern peasantry should take a leaf out of our Medieval counterparts’ cookbooks in the interests of healthy eating

Should you need a pointer towards some gode cookery receipts, this is a fascinating resource…

Of course, the really healthy peasant diet is less based on elaborately stuffed capons and more on grain-based gruel or potage, but the recipies are intriguing nonetheless. Enjoy!

Around my Summer in 80 Yays! (or Boos!)

As usual the last few months have been busy with events and school holidays and I haven’t had much time to blog. So, here  is tour around my summer in yays and boos: (more…)

Strange Fruit

I returned from Herstmonceux Medieval Festival yesterday afternoon. After a rather quicker journey (including a pub lunch) than on the outward leg, which took 6 hours thanks to one of the tyres on the trailer disintegrating en route. (more…)


I went to the library on Tuesday, primarily for the children, but I always enjoy a good browse and while I was there I popped upstairs to the non-fiction section to look at the crafty books. This is probably a bit sad and middle-aged, but I was really excited to find both this and this. (more…)

Parting is such sweet sorrow

So, we’re half way through the first week of the holidays already. Friday was the last day of school and I went first to collect DD, who hurried past me, head bowed. I caught up with her at the school gate and after a failed attempt at conversation, discovered that she was crying. The big, fat tears plopping onto her shoes gave her away. Between the sniffs and wails, it emerged that she missed her teacher already. We went back to say goodbye again, but she was utterly distraught.


Sun, Shoes & Muse

I have had *the* best day. I went up to the big smoke (London) on the train. We will gloss over the trauma of visiting my Mum (90 this year) in the morning and her not knowing who I am, then getting upset at forgetting her daughter and doing the weeping and breast-beating thing. This is nothing new and I am not distressed by it any longer. She usually remembers my children and when I have them with me, she knows who I am so it is usually OK. Sometimes she even remembers me when I am on my own, but sometimes she doesn’t.


Healing Hands

I think I may have missed my calling. It is increasingly apparent that I have healing hands. Sometimes just one touch is enough, for other patients major surgery may be required to deal with the damage, but the result is always a new lease of life and thisI find deeply satisfying.

And who are my patients, you may wonder. People? Animals? Plants, perhaps? Nope…


Banking on Adversity

Bank Holidays, eh?  The eagerly anticipated long weekends when you can guarantee everything will go pear-shaped. The weather is so inevitably awful that even the newscasters state  “Well, it’s the Bank Holiday” with wry acceptance. ‘Plans’ are a misnomer that should really be acknowledged as simply ‘wishful thinking’.  Between the weather and the inevitable travel chaos, like lemmings thousands attempt to migrate only to find themselves stuck immobile for hours due to road/rail works, accidents, volume of traffic, strikes and the odd act of gods, who are obviously a bit pressed for something to do on the Bank Holiday themselves. (more…)

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