Less A Blog Entry .... More A Trailer

Sonata:

As always , we had a lovely weekend in Amsterdam . We wandered and chatted and ate , admired pampered dogs

and avoided any danger of therapy in the Jordaan , even a tempting foot massage

Guided by Y.D. , we ate wonderfully well .... everything from rijsttafel and a Turkish feast to courgette and basil soup , catfish ( superb on a bed of lightly steamed mangetouts and tiny runnerbeans ) and wortelstampot ( a sort of carrot mash with smoked sausage ) and a tapa of perfect cheese in chunks , dipped in mustard .... perfect with ice cold beer .Perhaps influenced by a lovely bit of grafitti

we went to a flower show .... no , THE flower show if you're a tulip fan .... the Keukenhof , and I'm leaving it to Smitonius to show her beautiful photos of the plants . Y.D. discovered that she liked orchids and I discovered pushkinias . We all saw rather a lot of Romantic Roses

including a pale pink one the size of a dinner plate , that you'd have to stand guard over with a an umbrella when it rained . ( Meijer Roses , "Pearl Avalanche ", best of show , if you want to own one ) . I even bought some tea called Silver Rose , with silver tipped Oolong and rose petals which is proving to be just right for rainy afternoons .

So now it's back to work and doing my own cooking again . I'm never going to get to Kantjil 's rijsttafel level but , with the help of this book out of the library

I made Sajoer Lodeh ( vegetables in Coconut milk ) tonight to have with chicken skewers .... rather nice and worth trying again .

And so to bed ....

A Happy - If Rather Chilly - Easter !

Sonata:

While Middle Daughter sits at home , lovingly dabbing calamine on Eldest Grandson's impressive collection of chickenpox itchiness , Smitonius and partner , Youngest Daughter and I will be trekking round Amsterdam from restaurant to restaurant , exhaustively cataloguing the availability of ethnic and local delicacies in the city .

We might visit a museum or two , will inspect the trams , check window displays ( though maybe not those in the red light district ) , admire moored barges , vintage clothes shops and the Farmer's market . Yes , I know .... same old , same old . In our defence I have to say that we don't do it that often and there's bound to be a corner we missed last time . And we are toying with the idea of going further afield on Sunday ... Delft maybe , or Gouda .

As long as we don't freeze to death .... it's really rather chilly . I hope you , too , enjoy the Easter break and have sufficient Easter eggs to survive being snowed in , wherever you are . ( We'll all be wearing thermals , I fear ).

P.S. The bird house was made using a free pattern from the Amsterdam quilt shop , Bird Blocks , which they issued for their 5th anniversary in 2008 .

Bob the cat

Smitonius:

No, we still have a cat called Toots, who has settled in most splendidly. She has learnt how to use the cat flap, has recovered the garden (mostly) from the other cats who marked up the territory as their own once Pocket was gone, and made clear her preferences (of cat litter, brand of cat food, times to be fed, places to sit and to sleep, etc..). All in all, the cat approves of the humans she chose at Battersea.


This post is about another cat, one called Bob. You might have seen him on the news, because his owner James has written a book about their friendship: A Street Cat Named Bob: How One Man and His Cat Found Hope on the Streets.

A few weeks ago, I stood in a very long queue in order to have the copy of his book signed and pawed (well, rubber stamped) by the pair. In the bookshop, Bob was either sitting on the table by the pile of books or taking a well deserved break in his own armchair, he just behaved as if all that attention was the most natural thing in the world.


He wears a lead and is known to ride on the bus, walk alongside James or travel on his shoulder. Watch them here online. The book is a good read about that bond between humans and cats in challenging circumstances... I wish the both

Memories

Sonata : This weekend was all about memories . We went down to Gent on Friday afternoon for an early funeral on Saturday morning and were immediately swept back to 1980 . The centre of the city has moved on , of course , all glitzy shops , elegant customers and bright lights among the medieval walls but the side streets stay just the same as always , little cafes and bistros serving Gentse stoverij and steaks the size of a baby's head , full of serious eaters and families with well behaved children . Restored , we sat for hours in a small cafe , listening to Elvis and surrounded by chunky old men , all woolly jumpers , jowels and comb-overs .
The funeral itself was just as one should be with the knowledge that it had been the right time for him to go , however sad .
Later , the family gathered and legends were dug up and retold . A little boy ran in , his exact resemblance to his grandfather startling , while a baby determinedly crawled backwards and forwards over my lap , looking just like her mother when I first saw her , forty years ago .
The tumble of children went off to the verandah , the older ones supervising the proper progression from cold meats to chocolate spread on an unending supply of crusty rolls . A huge table was filled with food and plates were passed round . The merits of different local hams were debated and one cheese was eaten to the last crumb as everyone enthused . The splendidness of the local baker was universally acknowledged . The plates of macaroons , florentines and chocolates were all enjoyed . It was , after all , a very Belgian occasion .
People took it in turns to sit next to a very frail aunt whose grasp of the here and now was vague but whose smile was as kind as it had always been . Garden improvements and children's homework were admired . Little cousins scaled a climbing frame , sisters-in-law vied to hold the baby . Fishing tales were laughed about and photos examined .
As we left , the widow stood , arm in arm with her daughters , knowing that between them , they'd keep it all going for the next generation .

Things Which Seem Unnecessary ....

Sonata:

There are lots of things which seem totally unnecessary . Tinned mushrooms , frozen mashed potato, lace gloves , dried parsley , prettily patterned loo paper , fancy covers for tissue boxes ( though a Day-Glo orange one would be useful at work where speed is of the essence when engaged in Mucus Transference Limitation ) , those egg racks in 'fridge doors , hair before noon ( think of the time saved when rushing to work and , besides , wooly hats are cosy and don't involve going to the hairdresser every six weeks ) , gold Hot Pants for 0-3 month olds ( I'm not making these up ) , those stickers superglued to each and every supermarket apple , three remote controls per television , all the options on my mobile except for Call , and what started this train of thought today .....

the allergy advice on my packet of pistachios this weekend . You may have your own list .....

Sorry ! I Think I'll Need A Couple Of Days Off ....

Sonata:

It's been odd being at home "sick" for two months .

Though I must admit , when the cold snap "snapped" and the local bread shop's display slowly disappeared from view , I was more than happy to sit by the fire and drink my way through an assortment of Kusmi Russian tea that I'd been given for Christmas .

The whole province hummed with excitement as the ice got thicker and thicker and suddenly there was a real chance of an Elfstedentocht . Our back door froze shut , it was even minus 17 Celsius a couple of mornings and every waterway froze ....

The river round the corner was suddenly covered in skaters chatting on mobiles , cyclists , people walking their dogs , a young couple hurtling past having a blazing row , grandmas and babies in pushchairs , even real skaters , heads down and one arm behind their backs , going like the wind . Leeuwarden was en fête . The chance of the race happening climbed to 80% and then suddenly ...... it started to become less cold . We heard that one of the race's officials , checking the thickness of the ice ( 15 cm is the absolute minimum ) had fallen through somewhere on the 200 kilometer course . Till finally it all vanished and we could even wrench our back door open again . Very sad . It rubbed salt in the wound to see this 1986 copy of the local paper in a local antique shop's window display the other day

But it did mean that I could haul my bike out and , thumbing my nose at this ad. for an electricity company at the bus stop ,

try cycling again , almost two months from the day that I fell off and broke my wrist . It was a bit nerve-racking but I'd built my left arm up again and I rode round the block ( as a safety precaution my chosen route took me past our G.P.'s house ! ) and came , grinning , home . Yesterday I cycled all round town doing some shopping as I went .

So now it's time to go back to work , where , it seems , I'm eagerly awaited by at least a few of the children

.

if this huge waving flower , delivered by my colleagues this afternoon , is to be believed .

Competition winner!

Smitonius:

We had 4 correct responses to the question, and as Friko quite rightly pointed out: 'the one with the collar'! So we wrote out four bits of paper and asked Toots to choose. Let us put it this way, we took as her choice the first one she stepped on.


Which was - tadah! Rattling on. So, please send me an email at my home email of fosterharvey AT gn DOT apc DOT org. I will arrange a small package so that your two cats (wanted for terrible crimes at the moment, I see) can fight over the pirate mouse.