Back from our Disney Dream
I am home. Jetlagged, knackered and with very attractive puffy ankles. Luckily, English Dad has coped magnificently while I was away (a bit too far magnificently if you ask me) and I came back to an immaculate house complete with fresh flowers and an empty washing basket. I think I’ll leave him more often.
And what an amazing time. I’ve got so much to show and tell. But while I gather my thoughts and get rid of my old lady ankles I’ll leave you with this… our view as we sailed in to Nassau in the Bahamas:
and here’s me by the ship at Disney’s own island in the Bahamas, Castaway Cay:
The Gatwick Passenger Panel and a Disney Dream come true!
Okay before I start writing, I want everyone to step away from anything sharp or heavy. If you’re going to throw things, make it soft, mkay?
I’m off on an amazing journey – a real dream trip – on Saturday I’ll be heading to Gatwick with my lovely friend and fellow blogger Liz.
This is quite timely as I’ve just received some really good news – I’ve been appointed one of a new panel of ‘independent experts’ *cough* by Gatwick Airport and I’m mega excited!
The new Gatwick Passenger Panel has been created to help London Gatwick really look at the passenger travel experience, from lots of different perspectives. For example, a business traveller will have different needs and expectations from that of a family travelling together. We’ll be discussing our different views and experiences to give a really honest and unbiased picture of airport life. Hopefully, learning about how different people travel – from getting there, through the airport itself and finally off on their journey, will enable Gatwick – and other UK airports – to tackle any problems and devise suitable solutions to make travelling a better experience for everyone. I’m in some really rather fabulous company too – one of my fellow panel members is the legendary John Carter from Wish You Were Here – I can’t wait to meet him.
I’m so excited to be involved and will obviously keep you up to date with developments.
So onward from Gatwick, then, we’re heading to Orlando and (after a quick stop at Walt Disney World – and those fabulous Illuminations), we’re straight on to Port Canaveral where we’ll be boarding Disney’s newest cruise ship, the Disney Dream for a cruise to the Bahamas, with a stop at Disney’s own island, Castaway Cay. Apparently the food on board is To Die For. Squee!
Obviously I’ll be working, so I won’t be enjoying myself at all… and I’ll see you in a week’s time with, of course, lots of photos.
Until then, be good xx
Guilty pleasures: Individual chocolate fudge brownie ‘cupcakes’
My lovely friend Taralara does The Gallery every week – a place where you can share photos (they don’t have to be good, or professional, which is why I can join in). This week the theme is ‘guilty pleasures’. I’m so there!
So you know I love a cupcake, right? They’re definitely my guilty pleasure. And I love a chocolate brownie too. So what better, I thought, than an individual, person-sized brownie, generously speckled with little nuggets of fudgy loveliness…
These aren’t your diet option, admittedly (says she with T minus 5 days before bikini day), but I blame Dr Oetker – they keep sending me all these lovely little bits and pieces like their fudge chunks and those little baby chocolate beans. They sit and STARE at me until I bake with them. It’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you. Well, I would. But not about cake.
200g dark chocolate
170g salted butter
3 eggs
200g soft brown sugar (you can use caster, but we’re going for maximum toffee fudgy flavour here)
110g plain flour
1 pack Dr Oetker fudge chunks (or home-made fudge cut into little squares OR we reckon Cadbury’s Fudge bars cut up would be epic)
So melt the butter and chocolate in a bain-marie (the posh name for a bowl over a saucepan of just-simmering water – don’t let the bottom of the bowl come into contact with water – you know the drill). Turn the water off when it’s just bubbling and stir the mixture gently until it’s combined. Take it off the heat and allow it to cool to blood temperature (one doesn’t want extra scrambled eggy bits in one’s brownie, trust me).
Meanwhile, whisk the eggs and sugar together. Now, pour in your chocky/butter mixture, stir until combined then bung in the flour and the fudgy chunks.
Plop an ice cream scoop of mixture into each paper muffin case and bake for 20 minutes until the tops are shiny and cracked but they still retain some gooeyness in the centre. Leave to cool.
I think for a special occasion these would be gorgeous topped with an enormous swirl of whipped cream and scattered with extra fudgey pieces. But we just scoffed them.
You can see more ‘guilty pleasures’ gallery entries here
The Channel 4 Paralympic Games website – get your tickets now!
As you know, we recently visited the site of the impending London 2012 Olympics. It’s going to be an amazing time for London, and we mustn’t forget that the Paralympics are on their way as well. (I live quite near Stoke Mandeville, the ‘home’ of the Paralympics, so I’m a massive fan – I think it’s completely inspiring and amazing. )
The lovely chaps at Channel 4 have put together a guide to the best family-friendly tickets at the Paralympic games – there are some really great ideas there and I urge you to go along and support our sporting heroes. What a fabulous thing for our children to see. The ballot to apply for tickets is open until 6PM on Monday 26th September.
The link is here - book your tickets now!!:
http://paralympics.channel4.com/inside-stories/newsid=1230847/index.html#
Baked sea bass with lemon and parsley (and whiffy plasters)
So English Dad has a large Asda near his work and often drops in for random stuff like all the various pills, potions and herbal whatnots he pops every morning for his bones and his joints and his whatevers (‘what? I’m getting old’), prune juice (remind me to tell you about the prune juice incident, it’s a cracker) and, occasionally, to have a quick perusal of the fish counter.
English Dad loves the fish counter. This is all good, but it does mean that sometimes he arrives home with a slightly fishy smelling mystery parcel and I have to conjour up some form of accompaniment at short notice. Recently, his niffy romantic offering was a clutch (a school?) of very fresh and rather lovely sea bass. Whole sea bass.
They were beautiful: fresh, gleaming, with clear eyes and that lovely ozone scent (and two quid each. TWO QUID!). But then it all kind of went downhill. Well first of all I’d kind of planned hotdogs. I’d bought baguettes and those horrible ‘lips and arseholes‘ hotdog sausages that come in tins (oh admit it, you love them too). And suddenly to be presented with an enormous bag of slightly wet scales, glassy eyes and gaping maws kind of threw me off kilter.
I know. Horribly ungrateful. His little face fell, bless him.
And then the boys came in. Comments were made. Sulky, teenagery kind of comments:
‘Gross!‘
‘Ew.’
‘I thought we were having hotdogs‘
‘They’re looking at me!’
I grabbed the knife with a flourish and announced that I would fillet them.
Big mistake.
The first thing I did was to impale myself through the thumb with the spiky bit at the top of the fin. Who knew sea bass could be so darned painful? Cursing and beplastered, I swiftly decided to dispense with the filleting and just chop off their heads and tails. They were gutted (there were livid - boom boom!), so this seemed the easiest option.
Not so.
Have you ever tried to cut off a sea bass’s head? It’s hard work. They’re slippery and there’s nothing to hold on to… I stabbed myself about another three times until, swearing and sweating, my fishy massacre was complete. The kitchen was littered with severed heads, and the poor Ninja Cat of Death was so traumatised by all the hacking and the swearing she went to hide under the table. The beady eyed sea bass heads mocked her as she left: ‘where are you going, you hairy pansy? Never seen a headless fish before? Wuss!’
Anyhoo, bloodbath aside, stuffed with parsley and lemon, drizzled with oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper and wrapped in a comfy foil blanket, they were delicious (bake at 180/gas 6 for about 1/2 an hour), served with little oven roasted new potatoes…
They were proclaimed ‘alright, but a bit bony’ by de brevren, (which they were – you just have to be a bit careful), but apart from one near-choking incident and the fact that I was riddled with sea bass spine puncture wounds, it was an altogether delicious dinner.
Tonight, adorned with slightly fishy smelling plasters, I shall be making hotdogs.
The Friday photo: okay, so who stole my cat?
So you know The Ninja Cat of Death, right? Yeah you do: white, fluffy tail, unpleasant, miserable, bad attitude, objectionable…
Yup, that one.
When my bunch of buddies all came over to Ireland to see me, Liz, otherwise known as ‘Liz Jarvis, Pet Whisperer’ diagnosed a lack of attention. We were ordered to buy toys and play with her. In the meantime she fashioned cat toys out of tinfoil and champagne corks…
It didn’t work. Her reign of terror continued. Grown men cowered… ankles were attacked.
Here she is beating up the teenager after he dared try to stroke her when she was lying near him:
But since we’ve moved into this house, something funny has happened: The Ninja Cat of Death has turned into The Ninja Cat of Sweetness and Light. She’s gone all friendly. For instance, you can stroke her without being swiped by a razor sharp paw full of claws…
I know, right?
And you can walk towards her – even past her – without her fleeing in the other direction in case you plan on touching any part of her body on the way past…
And then she actually purred:
That made us a bit suspicious. We had a really good long look at her in case we’d accidentally picked up the wrong cat when moving from my Mum’s. Nope, definitely our cat: same ridiculously fluffy tail… same stupid pink nose…
So what’s happened? Has the traumatic experience sharing the house with Ellie the Labrador and Harry the Ginger T*sser changed her in some way? Has she realised she’s actually onto a good thing?
Who knows. But it’s all bloody weird if you ask me. Take last night:
This cat has NEVER sat on a lap before. Never.
Something’s afoot. What do you think? Cloning? A large patch of catnip in the back garden? A bump on the noggin?
Cosmetic surgery: where do you stand?
I’m not a ‘high maintenance’ girl at all. In fact, a quick smear of tinted moisturiser and a bit of lipbalm is usually as much as I can muster first thing in the morning. Lately, though, I’ve started to notice the lines that run from my nose to the corners of my mouth more and more. My lovely Estée Lauder tinted moisturiser (I’ve used it for years – it smells deliciously of cucumber) has started to sit in the lines and I find myself, for the first time, a bit unhappy with my appearance.
I guess it comes to us all eventually (I’m 41, let’s face it). The rest of me’s not bad and I know I should just count my blessings, but still I keep obsessively touching those lines, and noticing them in the mirror. English Dad is underwhelmed, professing not to be able to see the problem, but even he admits to not liking those creeping signs of ageing.
Of course, there are solutions - I asked The Hospital Group (you can find them at http://www.thehospitalgroup.org/ they really are nice, and very patient if you ask loads of stupid questions) for some information, and it really does seem easy – my advisor recommended dermal fillers, advised me that they last about 9 months, and that, regarding pain, everyone is different, but that they can offer a numbing cream if you happen to have a low pain threshold *cough*.
The cost apparently starts from £220 dependent on the grade of filler you have, going up to £295 a ten minute treatment. So a couple of quick jabs, and for probably no more money than I already spend on face cream over 9 months and my problem could be solved. But I think a lot of us worry about cosmetic surgery – is it too ‘footballers’ wives’? What if something goes wrong? Is it something for the vain and vacuous? Or, like gastric band surgery, a last resort for a problem that’s got out of control?
I actually know a couple of people who have had breast enlargements and they’ve both said similar things – it’s done wonders for their self esteem and it’s the best thing they ever did… and these are nice, normal people – people I count as friends and whose opinions I value.
So will I get it done? I just don’t know. What about you – is it something you’d consider?
Thanks to The Hospital Group for all their help and patience when faced with my idiotic questioning.
Declutter your old CDs, DVDs and games and help Breast Cancer Care
When we moved from Ireland, we had boxes and boxes of old DVDs, CDs and games. We donated most of them to a charity shop, which made us feel good, but frankly it was a bit of a pain. I’ve just recently heard of a great company called Music Magpie who buy all your old CDs, DVDs and games off you and what’s more, if you’re feeling generous, you can choose to donate your fee to a charity like Breast Cancer Care or the Children’s Society. I never knew you could sell games online, so I had a closer look. Just click here for all the information about donating.
Music Magpie have asked me to help them to encourage more people to declutter and donate their cash to these two wonderful, worthy causes. And of course, I’m delighted to help:
It’s really easy: you can use your webcam to scan the barcodes from the CD, DVD or game case, or you can key in the barcode number, or if you’ve got an iPhone, there’s an ‘app for that’!
Once you’ve entered all your items (you need to enter at least ten codes), you just click on ‘complete trade’.
It’s no hassle at all to send your items, in fact, just bung them all in a box and Music Magpie picks them up from you with their free courier service! Alternatively they provide freepost labels if you want to drop your box at the Post Office.
Now here’s the nice bit – if you want, you can choose to donate your cheque to one of the charities, like Breast Cancer Care or the Children’s Society.
So what are you waiting for? Lighten your load, do a bit of decluttering, and feel good in the process! Get going now on musicmagpie.co.uk
Thank you! xx
I’ve donated my fee for this article to Breast Cancer Care
Slow cooked leek and tomato pasta sauce: versatile and sneakily healthy
I’ve been writing on Ready for Ten recently (I would link to it but it’s not published yet – patience, grasshopper) about the age old dilemma of getting the kids to eat enough fruit and veg. I make this sauce a lot (I use it as soup as well) and although it’s got plenty of green veg in, it still looks like plain ol’ tomato which puts paid to ‘ewww – what’s that?’ – my most favourite dinnertime question. Plus, of course, there’s the satisfaction of getting one over on your kids, which is always a bonus.
Of course, even if your family will happily eat their five a day, it’s still a great tea-time all rounder. You can:
- add in other veg, increase the stock and serve as soup with some easy herby bread
- tart it up with 1/2 tsp chilli flakes (put them in at the beginning) and some fried streaky bacon strips
- add basil and pour over pan-fried meatballs
- use in lasagnes and bolognese
- stir into a pack of tortellini (spinach and ricotta is our favourite) and sprinkle with Parmesan
- pour over chicken breasts, dot with torn pieces of mozzarella and bake in the oven
I could go on, but frankly I’m starting to bore myself, but you get the message: it’s incredibly versatile. It has a lovely mellow sweet flavour too. This quantity makes enough to cover pasta for four people and a portion for the freezer too. Ninja costumes at the ready, then:
You will need:
1 large leek
1 large onion
2 tbsp rapeseed oil
1 tsp salt
1 tin good quality tomatoes (don’t use the cheapo ones, they’re too runny)
The same amount of stock (chicken, veg, bouillon, whatever)
1 tsp sugar
Freshly ground pepper
So slice the leek lengthways and rinse under running water to remove any grit or mud. Chop finely.
Heat the rapeseed oil in a heavy-based saucepan and pop in the leek. Finely chop the onion and add that in too. Sprinkle with the salt and then cook on a low heat, stirring occasionally for a good ten minutes until everything is well softened.
Add in a tsp of sugar and the tinned tomatoes. Fill the tin once more with the stock (if I don’t have any home made I just pop in a stock cube and top it up with boiling water). Add in to the pan.
Now just cover and leave it for half an hour. This bit’s really important – everything needs to be really soft to get the texture right. After that, you can remove from the heat, blend with a stick blender and test the seasoning (add pepper or a touch more salt). You’ll end up with a really gorgeous smooth sauce and – here’s the bonus – no hint of anything green in there.
I love a bit of stealth health. Off you go, then, team…
Settling in with some honey and buttermilk no yeast, no rise brown bread
So I’ve been reading up on our new abode (I know I should think of some funky new name, but I also know it will continue to be English Towers – why fight it?). The village was listed in the Domesday Book (thank you Wikipedia), and the hill overlooking the village is not only a site of special scientific interest, but crossed by the Ridgeway as well. There’s also a very old windmill here, and it’s suitably mental as it has a Bedfordshire postal address, even though it’s actually in Buckinghamshire. Perfect.
So that’s geography and stuff out the way – what else is there? Well, very near there are beautiful fields with snaking chalk paths through lovely woodland:
… and lots and lots of rosehips and crab apples (I’m thinking jelly – once I’ve got to the bottom of my Dispreputable Dad’s cooking apple mountain – another mahoosive bag appeared yesterday):
Anyhoo, with most of the unpacking done (it still looks like an explosion has occurred, but we’ve ordered chests of drawers, so it’s Not Our Fault, okay?), and a spectacular cackling and chocolate biscuit session with the gorgeous Glamorous C (she walked – WALKED! – from her house up to here. I was duly impressed), it was time to hit the kitchen…
One of English Dad’s students has his own bees and brings him pots of the most amazing Buckinghamshire honey known to man – it’s fragrant and delicious, and was used accidentally as I was making my usual soda bread but realised at the last minute I didn’t have any black treacle. I’ll never use black treacle again now as this honey makes a spectacular loaf:
100g white bread flour
450g wholemeal flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
2tsp salt
400ml buttermilk (or just add the juice of 1/2 lemon to whole milk and allow to sit for a while)
1 egg
2 tbsp oil (I use the amazing local rapeseed oil)
2 tbsp honey
So preheat your newly clean, sparkly oven to 200 degrees/gas 6 and oil a loaf tin (do it well, or better still, line it with bake-o-glide, it sticks like a biatch this stuff).
Sieve the white flour and bicarb (make sure you sift the bicarb well – otherwise it will manifest itself in the finished bread as little green dots – not pleasant) then add the wholemeal flour and the salt.
Measure out the buttermilk (or lemony milk) then add in the egg, oil and honey. Whisk well.
Add to the dry ingredients and stir until combined. Flop the mixture straight into the loaf tin and straight into the oven. This is lazy person’s bread – no rising or kneading here.
Bake for 45 minutes to an hour or until the bottom is hollow when you tap it (ooer missus). I take it out of the loaf tin around 45 minutes just to make sure the bottom is baked and gets a crust too.
This recipe is gorgeous with added nuts and seeds, but won’t keep, so if you’re not going to scoff it straight away, slice and freeze it for instant yummy breakfast toast.
Thank you Buckinghamshire bees! I can see I’m going to be very happy here.
