Take the biscuit

For a while now I have been fancying some home made biscuits, so much that I could smell them. Baking day and buns and biscuits coming out of the oven; my aunt Mary's biscuit jar would often be full of ginger biscuits. You could not call them ginger nuts because they were softer in the middle and you had to be careful dunking them in your tea. As far as I can remember this recipe originated at The Lawns farm (White family) and I have today got my hands on the recipe. (it's on my to do list).

Now I am not known as a cook and I have never baked anything, as far as I can remember. So early last Saturday morning I set to and began to bake some almond biscuits. Brother Timothy was intrigued and chatted and talked while I stuck close to the recipe book. I have seen my aunts throwing the ingredients into a bowl, mixing and popping it in the oven - how hard can it be? Weighing the ingredients was a painstaking job, I didn't want to skimp or overdo anything - I wanted them to be just like aunt Mary's. When it came to the mixing I reckon these ladies must work out at the gym cos my arms were killing! how do they do it? I guess I am a bit particular when it comes to tasks such as these and I got quite stressed when the recipe told me to take some mixture, make a ball the size of a walnut; place it on a tray and pat it down with a fork. It sticks to the fork and pulls it off the tray! is the mixture wrong, (Jamie O never has this problem). So I improvise, take small piece of greaseproof paper and lay that on the ball of mixture and pat it down with a fork - remove the greaseproof paper - success! Now for the oven. Nobody said these biscuits were soft and floppy when they come out of the oven; but once they cooled they both looked the part and tasted fantastic. Yes they are the ones in the picture.

I seem to work better when things are in their proper places, and noticed that I clear away and tidy up two or three times while I am working (whatever I am doing). Sometimes I can spend more time clearing and organising than I do getting on with the job. Still I enjoyed the baking and will do a bit more soon.

Note to diary: Must try and get hold of Mum's recipe for caramel shortbread - mmm.
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Tin of buttons

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Time to discover the contents of Mum's button tin, (do I really want to do this). The tin potentially holds treasures, memories, forgotten toys and a thingamajig; of course it could just be full of buttons and then, I would wonder what to do with it?

An old Quality Street tin that has accumulated bits n bobs was poured out on the kitchen table, long after all had gone to bed. Big sister would recognise most of these 1960's style buttons and buckles; miraculous medals appear in all Mum's boxes and drawers (the tin is no exception); a small crucifix next to a white overall button. There are random numbers from a game and metal puzzle chains, did the cog wheel come from one of my old trains and why did we keep it? An old fashioned collar stud and a dice; I wondered long and hard as to how the old curtain rail hook ran along the track. The colours don't really interest me but the shapes and what is that pipe thing? I took out some tiddlywinks and practised my skill; an old half penny and some of the buttons had thread left on (recycling is not a new idea).

Brother Cyril no doubt would give me some long explanations to all these haberdashery gadgets but I think I will just put them back in the tin. Really I should throw it away, especially now I know there are no hidden treasures but I guess it won't take up much room and I may be looking for a dice or safety pin one day.

Two days ago (early morning) I paused at the top landing window; I often spend a moment here taking in the view. At that moment a pair of swans came flying in from my left, they rose up along the valley and past the viaduct - I wanted to rush for my camera or binoculars but decided just to stand there, and watch the beauty of those enormous birds. Such long necks and a rear engine with massive wings Wow! They turned by the large hotel and headed in land, where were they going? I assumed swans stayed pretty close to their home base. I could not have been more impressed by a pair of Spitfires.

Life is chugging on quite slowly here and folk come and go; time itself seems to be passing quickly but the hands of the clock hardly move. I am aware of things approaching and of trying to fit it all in - then in one single moment, as I stop. This pair of swans fly right across my line of sight. As if they were waiting for me..

Note to evening office: Lord hold on to me and I will hold on to you; together we will meet the moments and value each one.

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From back to front

Time to ponder and turn over those photographs and post cards; the major tasks are done though I find myself looking for more. I was thinking yesterday, if I was to set out and write a book would I first consider the characters or the plot. would a story unfold given the right ingredients? Finding time to switch off I recently enjoyed a video (dvd), the basic story was simple but how things unwound were fascinating. How did the writer conceive it? My only conclusion was - he must have started at the end and worked backwards or flitting from one scene to another adding detail necessary for the next. I do wonder also whether God is working backwards with us; perhaps that would make more sense. Looking back I see better now, what had to happen to make the story fit.

One room of the friary has been transformed to accommodate the furniture and It is pleasant as the sun comes in clear and bright, Sitting at the desk (the old man) seems strange. It is many years since I sat there to do my homework. We call it the old man because my grand father made it; beginning in 1909 and taking a week off work to complete it before going to France in WW1. He served his time as a joiner at Harrison's of Grosmont (being related) he lived there a number of years eventually married and stayed at Grosmont before moving to Middlesbrough. The old man consists of a chest of drawers, drop own leaf desk with drawers and pigeon holes and on top of this is a tall glass cabinet. The dovetails and joints are perfect (granddad was fussy and particular in all things - sounds familiar)! Though he died when I was very young I remember sharing his toast; he did make a fuss of me and mum said I was difficult to console when he passed away. However, the old man was left to me all those years ago - now here it is. I found in the drawer a couple of postcards sent by granddad to his little daughter Barbara while he was in France.

There is a family resemblance of my gt granddad, granddad, father and myself; this is not unusual - but I do also look very much like my mother (still not unusual). However, I was recently at 60th party and people there I didn't know were glancing across and as the night went on someone said I looked a lot like a football manager who had recently been in the news. No I said, I am a Yorkshire man not an Italian. They insisted and went on to congratulate me on good work and followed with suggestions of who should play the next match. This feeling of fame stayed with me a while, as I walked through the town I imagined people giving me a second look and felt I was walking a little taller. Now I know nothing of the background of this guy, his family or his habits - but others were pleased to accept him as a potential champion. I can't change the way I look, and what happens if this manager goes the same way many others have done with bad news in the press of results on and off the pitch.

Note to evening office: Lord help me to reflect you; that others may see the detail in your kingdom necessary for our story.
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Closing doors

1918 - 2008

Mum passed away last month on Valentines day, 35 years after my dad; I like to think they got a long awaited valentine cuddle. My sister and I have been busy sorting out all that needed to be done and supported by family and friends found that all came together as it should. Mum was very good to us, she had notes and envelopes in the desk and all was very tidy; she had been preparing us and and the house for such a day as this. It has been something I have dreaded for sometime and as mum has cared for so many people through her life; we knew it would be difficult for her when she had done all she could.

Apocolypse 14 says...

Happy indeed, the spirit says; now they can rest forever after their work, since their good deeds go with them.

Indeed she has taken many good deeds with her.

Christened Hannah Elizabeth, her father called her Lizzy and at the age of 12 she was helping to deliver milk in the next small village as the milkmans wife was ill (no milk bottles in those days). Making butter on the farm to sell at market and all the baking and chores. Her father encouraged the children to run and held a stop watch; on their village day out (bank holiday) they would take horse and cart to the near by beach. Races were held and I am told mum did very well.

Mum became known as Bette, Aunty Bette to many, Grandma to more than just her own grand children. I knew there would be many at her funeral and I guessed there would be many I would not even know; her caring and love went far and wide (a challenge for us to try and continue). It has been a time of closing doors, not just the rented house where she lived. Finding treasures as we packed boxes, photos and post cards - her address books (invaluable) and the button tin.....

Now this button tin must hide many small treasures from days when I was but a small boy, often when I called in to see mum at home I might pick up a jug or open a drawer, expecting to find something I had forgotten; these and the button tin are currently packed in boxes either here or at my sisters. We plan to take our time and sort through together, the brass - fat old policeman corkscrew and a piece of Spitfre propeller. I must tell you about the furniture too (the Old Man) but that will be another day.
Note to evening office - slow down a little and let things settle.

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Burn's Night

Burn's night 25th January and for the last few years it has been spent with close friends. We attempt to get our toungs around the Scottish dialect and recite some of the great poet's words; what fun! and the food and drink is good for both body and spirit.

A toast to the Haggis piped in with great ceremony followed by neeps n tatties; will there be room for pudding? Oh yes! says Fr Gerry. The lads toast the lassies and the lassies toast the lads (more whiskey) ending with old lang syne.

Time goes so quickly and folk are on their way - blessings and haste ye back. The washing up and putting away is soon complete and the kitchen eases into a lull. The CD player in the corner is still strumming out sounds of The Corries, I pull up a chair and settle down to a plate of cheese and oatcakes; I convinced myself it would taste much better with a dram of whiskey.

The wind was whistling round the house end and seemed intent on moving anything in it's path. Yet the haunting sound of the pipes and flute pushed the wind into the distance and memories of Scotland; another kitchen, accordion and voices came flooding back to me. A quick check round before I go to bed, the dinning room where we all had sat and as I saw where each had been, I blessed each one and went to bed.

Note to evening office: Count – literally – your blessings. Enumerate your reasons to be cheerful. Only then pray your complaints!

Windy Day

Saturday morning and it seems the whole household has slept in; Oh joy. So why am I awake? Would it not be easier to tun over and sleep for another hour? From where I lay, my windows field of view, is grey sky with clouds moving quickly from the North west. The sun is rising but has not reached my horizon; seagulls fly - alight with the morning sun, blown around by the strong wind they dart this way and that to reach their destination.

Perhaps I should make a cup of tea? heading for the kitchen I pause at the landing window, the sun has reached the wooded hillside across the valley, light is pushing a line of darkness down, down like a large curtain unfolding colour of rich browns and red. - More movement in the house and the moment of wonder is lost; till the next time I stop, look and notice.

Note to evening office: Lord help me go with the wind and correct my course as I go.

What a Hoot

A merry Christmas and a happy New Year to one and all.
Where have you been I hear you say; well of course the truth is I have been nowhere at all.It is strange that the last thing I mentioned was to look out for the owls, last night as I walked through the village I heard them again up by the old cemetary.
Nothing has changed - though much has happened and I couldn't begin to tell you all about it. Losing emails and address book through a computer crash were minor irritations - sticking close to those who matter in times of need has been a priority.

This time of year brings presents, those to give and those to receive; the dreaded Christmas card list - lost with the emails and contents of the hard drive (I know, backup). I know I missed some folk and now feel I owe a little more than just a card; I feel some good New Years resoloutions coming on.

Freeview digital TV has arrived at the friary with flat screen cinema style viewing, we can freeze frame and with on demand - catch up TV - video - Dvd - hard drive recording; we shall never miss another programme again.
The illusion is controlling time, the reality is there is not enough time to cope with all the choices.

I love to look at the moon as astronomy was a bit of a hobby for me, brother Timothy has a great interest and we talk alot about the stars. The moon goes through it's phases and never changes; of course here in the Uk cloud cover keeps this celestial night light well hidden. However I managed to catch this photo earlier this month just befre it became full.
Note to evening office: Lord help me to focus on the things that do not change so I may cope better with the things that do.