Witter

Clever marketing

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Wed, 06 Mar 2019 21:33:00 +0000

I have been quite a big fan of SAS - Who Dares Wins in which exceptionally fit people, usually with some kind of interesting back story. They are subjected to physical and mental challenges and the original number is whittled down to a small, brave few who are then subject to the interrogation phase. The interrogation section involves putting candidates in stress positions and when I watch it I'm amazed at how long people stay in what must be painfully uncomfortable positions where the body has given up, but the mind is forcing the body to comply. I'm also a bit of a yoga fan, if turning up once a week and looking forward to the corpse (shavasana) pose counts. I'm the only one in the family that gets involved and I don't know anyone else in the class, except the teacher. For me it's a bit of escapism. I run there, walk home and try my best during the in-between bits. This week, after doing some of the yoga poses and thinking "Flipping heck, this doesn't look difficult but it doesn't half hurt" I had a further thought: "Yoga is simply stress positions with clever marketing."

I'm angry, not broken

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Tue, 26 Feb 2019 21:03:00 +0000

I wrote to Mr Burghart, the Right Honourable Member for Brentwood and Ongar, on January 17th, with the following message:

Dear Mr Burghart

I am disappointed to discover that Brentwood Mind has closed.

The cited reason for closure is NHS cuts of £200,000 per annum, leaving the organisation reliant on reserves, clearly an unsustainable position.

In light of the very public declarations by the Conservative Party concerning increased funding for mental health services, please can you explain the disparity between rhetoric and the reality at a local level.

Yours sincerely

Ann Cardus (Mrs)

My MP's reply covered the following: an apology for the delay in replying and a passing of the buck with a proxy response from the local Clinical Commissioning Group.

Effectively, my take-out is that mental health provision will now be outsourced to a private provider, the Vita Health Group with an "effective increase in investment in mental health." The CCG is also currently sourcing a Mental Health and Wellbeing hub which will be based in Basildon. The use of the word effective before the word investment isn't confidence-inspiring and the establishment of a hub in Basildon doesn't seem to be as convenient for Brentwood-dwellers.

Apparently the CCG was unaware that Brentwood Mind was closing and it seemed to have come as a surprise. The explanation of how and what happened was very opaque.

Burghart then added that he had been aware of the funding cuts after a review of block funding, and "its service users were offered the opportunity to use their newly introduced personal payments with other providers or services." I don't quite know what this means but it indicates that the removal of block funding was directly responsible for the closure of the local Mind provision.

Burghart reiterated that there had been an increase in investment in local mental health provision which we have established earlier will be going to a (newly-formed) private company rather than a well established and experienced charity.

Finally, Mr Burghart hoped I would be able to "access the help I needed."

Please feel free to re-read my email to my MP. At no point did I indicate I needed any help and I'm not happy that he chose to assume I needed mental health support. How dare he assume that people who care about mental health provision are in need of mental health support? I care about a lot of things, it doesn't mean I'm directly affected, and, even if I were affected, it's deeply inappropriate to assume anything about my health.

The thing that makes it worse, is that a friend, who wrote to Burghart expressing similar concerns, received a carbon copy of his response.

Ctrl C, Ctrl V sums up the caring nature of UK politics today. It sickens and depresses me. I just hope I never need to travel to Basildon for mental health services instead of using a local provider on my doorstep.

This running malarky

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Sat, 05 Jan 2019 19:42:00 +0000

I started running in 2015.

It was a slow and painful progression through the Couch to 5k app.

I had assumed, once I'd graduated from the app (running continuously for 30 mins but in no way achieving 5k) that my running would go from strength to strength.

After several years, I can confirm that this isn't really the case. I completed our local Parkrun today in just over 40 minutes which is a pretty pathetic time for someone that's been running for years.

My heart rate was at 152 bpm on average and hit 168 at its max. It's not as though I'm not trying. I've run faster times with a lower heart rate. I think my body is just weird and my original assertion that I'm not built for running, is probably true.

Keep it up

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 04 Jan 2019 22:15:00 +0000

Hannah has been trawling my old posts when I could be bothered to post every day.

Maybe I should have maintained my musings about life in general, or maybe not. I used to enjoy blogging but the pressure to blog daily became too much, and that's when the children had fewer evening commitments and when I was working fewer days in the week.

Maybe I'll try a few more blogs in 2019 than I achieved in 2018, which isn't exactly difficult as 2018 was a bit of a drought.

No promises but if something tickles or irritates me, then I'll share it here.

It doesn't take much

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 18 May 2018 11:00:00 +0000

I was out for a run this morning, about one kilometre in, and I was just going through the motions with one step in front of the other. I'll be honest, it was a plodding jog but it makes me feel I'm keeping fit.

I approached an elderly lady and I recognised her. I'm used to smiling at people I pass when I run so that they think I'm friendly. I also feel I'm somewhat apologising for being a bit rubbish.

As I got close to the lady she smiled a lovely gentle smile, have me a thumbs up and said "Well done."

She'd done the same the lady time I saw her and both times it made my day.

It made my smile broader and just lifted my mood. Every time I think about it, it makes me happy.

It was such a small gesture but so kind and generous.

It doesn't take much to lift someone's mood and make someone feel better about themselves.

I was only going out for a 5k run but ended up running 10k.

One of those days

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Thu, 02 Nov 2017 20:57:00 +0000

I'd agreed to get up silly early. Ethan and his mates needed to get to Chelmsford for 5:00am. I had lots of work to do and one early morning wouldn't kill me. If I dropped the boys off I could be at my desk for 6:00am giving me a good couple of hours of head down thinking time.

The boys were all ready when they needed to be, they got to school as required and I got my early start at work.

I'd packed breakfast in my handbag to eat at work which had decided to leak all over my handbag and its contents. So the first job at work was washing everything and cleaning it of my "overnight oats" (not a euphemism).

Head down, thinking and doing happening very efficiently. Meeting at 9:00 and then straight into another meeting. Just as I come up for air I get a call. The people due to fix my front door tell me they'll arrive at 11:30. They were scheduled between 12 and 5. I hop in the car and race home (as much as one can race across town).

On the way home husband calls and tells me his car is parked at the front and the gas company have dug up the entire street and decided to put barriers up at the back of our house. I have nowhere to park off street, our cleaner is due and has nowhere to park and the door idiots have nowhere to park.

I park down the street passing my cleaner's car struggling to find space. i phone Dave and tell him the cleaner is out back. He can't do anything about it because he's immobilised with a bad back.

I need to put a parking permit in the car but I'm parked a way away from my house. I can't get in through the front door thanks to scumbag burglars and their August visit. I fight my way into the back of the house going through the gas company barriers. I express my annoyance to the gas company folk because blocking my drive was not something we'd been told about. They tell me they'd tried to knock on the door earlier in the day but there wasn't an answer. "Yep, because we were both at work, but I need four vehicles parked on the property now, or in the next half hour." They'd seen my husband's car leave the house but not my "blue" car. "Yes, that's because I left home before 5am and then, because I was up, dressed and functioning I went straight to work!!!"

They made it possible to get to the back of the house. I'd parked elsewhere, my cleaner had parked elsewhere, but it left a big space for the door idiots.

I grabbed a visitor permit and went back to my car to protect it from the traffic wardens (bearing in mind I'd paid a penalty charge notice for Dart Charge earlier in the day - that really annoyed me).

I got in checked in with the cleaner who I hadn't seen for months. Checked husband's state of disability, and decided that the gas workers had been very accommodating so I went to offer tea and coffee.

Five teas and coffees later, plus one for the cleaner and one for me, I plugged in laptop and started work.

Door idiots arrived. I told them there was a lovely big space at the back of the house that I'd arranged especially for them.

They opted to park on double yellow lines across the road. They were cutting me a temporary front door from a lump of wood and thought doing that on a Black and Decker Workmate in the middle of the road opposite the house was preferable to a safe space behind the house. Whatevs. I offered them tea and coffee and they declined.

Back to work.

"Can I use the loo?" It's like having toddlers.

"Here are your mugs back." It's really like having toddlers.

I go to check on husband. He wants drugs and wants to know how to get them. I ensure he has phone and doctor's phone number.

Back downstairs I notice that post includes card to collect package to collect from Post Office.

Back to work.

Questions come from door idiots on regular basis. Do I want a letterbox, a lock etc. etc.

I knew I would have be at home accommodating door idiots at this time so I'd booked supermarket delivery. Just as everyone and everything is in the house, the Tesco delivery guy is avoiding the extension lead in the hall to pop the shopping in the kitchen.

I decide door idiots tea and coffee again. They're in the market this time. I check husband. He wants lunch and tea, and drugs.

Cleaner leaves, I make tea, coffee, and lunch for me and hubby and then deliver, including crossing the road to deliver teas to the Black and Decker workmate in the middle of the road.

I need to get back to work but door idiots think they need more time to cut holes in wood. I tell husband as I deliver tea and lunch, no drugs.

I know I need a quick exit and my car is parked too far away to support that so I move it to the back of the house, in the space that the door idiots didn't want.

I go back to the laptop. Just as time is evaporating husband emerges hunched in pain to tell me to go back to work.

I jump in the car and get to work in the nick of time.

Meeting done I prepare to leave, and then I bump into a couple of people I need to catch up with. An hour later I'm finally walking out of the door.

I have the card for the undelivered parcel so stop off at the sorting office. It's the monthly gin delivery - "Wahay!" I called Dave - do I need to visit the surgery to collect drug order aka prescription?

Dave advises that prescriptions for mega drugs available for me to collect. This gives me a good excuse to collect the referral letter that's been sat at the surgery for several weeks. I really don't want to have to see a specialist and leaving the referral letter sitting at the doctor's surgery gave me the perfect excuse not to do the sensible thing.

Home, and Hannah makes me a cup of tea. Husband is vertical albeit it a bit crooked.

I decide that I cannot be arsed to cook. I propose fish and chips and there are smiles all round.

Dave decides to attempt a careful walk with Hannah to collect drugs from pharmacy while I collect fish and chips.

At home later I enjoy fish and chips and gin and tonic. I'm broken, but decide I still have the energy to type a blog post.

My first Harvey

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Thu, 19 Oct 2017 20:19:00 +0000

I was probably eight or nine years old. I'd been quite good at learning the recorder and my reward was violin lessons. I don't know what sadist made that link, but that's the way it worked at my primary school.

My parents played along and bought me a violin (which was an utter waste of money).

I think my violin teacher was called Mr Comely, a misnomer if ever there were one. He was short, portly and had the complexion of a sweaty vampire.

I can't recall whether the lessons were one to one, but I remember I didn't enjoy them. I didn't complain because mum and dad had bought me a violin which hadn't been cheap. I mean it was a cheap violin but, apart from my bicycle, it might have been my most expensive possession.

I think the violin lessons took place in Miss Tilney's class. I liked Miss Tilney and I think she liked me; she used to teach the Year 2 class and I used to pepper my writing with long words I'd selected from the dictionary in an attempt to appear intelligent. She was strict but I never incurred her wrath.

Mr Comely used to make me sit on his lap. I can't recall why; why he insisted, why I complied, why I didn't tell anyone... but I can remember my reticence and my discomfort. And I think that was the extent of it. Thankfully I've never done any hypnosis and I'm OK with not remembering anything else.

I could try and argue that this experience soaked into my psyche and is the reason I have failed at all future musical endeavours but, in truth, I've just never had any talent.

The Weinstein thing has got my goat, it really has. It's made me remember so many things that were just plain wrong, and it started very early.

Sexism in the forces? Surely not!

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Mon, 16 Oct 2017 18:07:00 +0000

Hannah joined the Combined Cadet Force (CCF) through school a couple of years ago.

The meetings took place at the boys' school across the road and it all worked, until recently.

Last year, the teacher from Hannah's school who supported CCF, stopped his involvement to spend more time with his family. The boys' school response was swift.

No new girls were allowed to join.
Girls had to pay a fee, and so did the boys, but the girls had to pay more.
The start time was brought forward making it impossible for the girls to arrive in time meaning they miss "fall in" and "parade" every week. They could still register, but they couldn't participate fully.
All meetings about camps happened at the boys' school, during the school day making it impossible for the girls to attend. The consequence of this is that they don't know camps are happening and don't participate.

Promotions were handed out recently and, in Hannah's year, none of the girls received a promotion. With the number of promotions dished out, the girls didn't get their fair proportion, and Hannah believes the girls are far more attentive and capable than many of the boys. Additionally, one of the boys promoted has very poor attendance.

This sounds like sex discrimination, and she's only 15. I don't want to say "Suck it up, that's life." because it shouldn't be like this, but the Army won't listen to one whiny mother. I'd like them to be forced to recognise their whole attitude is in no way encouraging girls into the armed forces. I'd like equality.

An ordinary day in which I go out

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Wed, 11 Oct 2017 22:04:00 +0000

I remembered to get some food out of the freezer the night before and pop it in the fridge. Dave would need something when he got in and the children could have a snack because they'd had a main meal at lunchtime.

I remembered to take the homemade brownies out of the freezer the night before and cut them into slices and pop them in a cake tin. It's much easier to get sharp edges when cutting gooey things before they've completely defrosted.

I remembered to check with Dave "You're OK to take Ethan to Scouts and Hannah to Explorers?" and I took the time to make sure he knew exactly which children needed to be where and when. I offered to take Ethan to Scouts, in case it helped, but was told firmly that "No, I plan to get back in time to do that."

I woke up early at six and decided that getting out of the house and into work early would allow me to plan and feel happier about the "big meeting".

I remembered to take the brownies out to the car and when I got to work, I set up the meeting room (including moving the furniture around and checking the IT equipment), remembering to leave instructions about the WiFi, the teas and coffees and allergens in the brownies.

I remembered to get money from the cashpoint and collect some keys that had been cut for our desk drawers.

I spent the next couple of hours trying to talk to as many of the meeting presenters as possible trying to ensure everyone knew what they were going to be talking about or discussing.

Before the meeting I remembered to set up a Webex, and dialled in.

The meeting didn't go to plan, but that's life. All through the five and a half hours I could sense the notifications on my phone. WhatsApp and Facebook going "ping" every few minutes with things I clearly needed to know.

After the meeting I tried to get to some of the presenters to provide reassurance or clarity or just to say "Thank you."

As I left work I checked my phone. Lots of messages and not enough time, but somebody wanted to park at my house for the evening.

I drove home remembering to stop at the Post Office to send Dave's erroneously ordered Amazon purchase back from whence it came, because I'm nice like that.

Before I got back in the car I checked messages and said "Yes" to the friend that wanted a parking space. Then I spotted another message; a different friend with the same request. I needed to think about that before replying.

When I got home I remembered that Ethan was going to be late home because he was attending a meeting about cadet camps. It transpires these were: two in Romania at £800 a pop and one in Morocco for £900 a pop. I remembered I hadn't yet paid the deposits for the Scout Camp to Ireland.

Assessing the parking situation once I was home, I reasoned that if I allowed one of my friends to block me in (that's OK, I didn't need my car) then both friends could park at the house and there would still be room for Dave. I sent a second affirmative message re parking.

I checked my voicemail - someone at the insurance company wanting a call back. I called and provided details over the phone about the stolen laptop and then followed up with an email. And then there was a phone call. Another agent appointed by the insurance company wanted to come and assess the damage to the front door and alarm system. Appointment made for Friday afternoon.

I caught my reflection and tried to call the hairdresser several times with no reply.

I then remembered I was a bad friend to someone who could do with support right now. On World Mental Health Day, the one thing I could do was make a call and plan to meet up. Meeting for breakfast on a Friday, plan made.

I checked I hadn't booked a supermarket delivery, and I hadn't, so I realised I might just have time for a run. Just as I was changed into running gear, Ethan arrived home. We had a quick catch up and I closed the door with the instructions for him to do his saxophone practice, make a sandwich, eat it, get ready for Scouts. I should have added tidy the bedroom but that's permanently on the to-do list.

On my first lap Ethan called. I'm not a good runner, and expecting me to think, talk and run, is a stretch. He told me my car was blocked in and that we would need extra time to get to Scouts. I told him that "Dad was planning to get back in time." We checked Dave's location, he was still at work but there was plenty of time for him to return.

On my second lap, Dave called. Could I take Ethan to Scouts?

Amid a string of expletives, I confirmed that I could because, technically, I could. And when I'm asked to do something like that, generally, I try and help. Yes, my car was blocked in, but yes, Scouts is within walking distance if you have 60 minutes spare (30 there and 30 back).

I cut my run short and went home to find Ethan listening to music at full volume and eating a sandwich. I sent him up to his room to change and popped the second half of his sandwich in a bag.

When he came down I said, "Right, we're running to Scouts."

I had a bit of an issue with Ethan running and trying to finish his sandwich at the same time. As we passed the ambulance station I was yelling about the Heimlich manoeuvre and telling him that choking and suffocating is not a nice way to die.

Ethan arrived at Scouts early and I turned and ran and walked home.

Dave was at home when I got back. He'd actually arrived home with plenty of time to have driven Ethan to Scouts. And my car was no longer blocked in which made it look bizarre that I'd chosen to run to Scouts.

While I showered and dressed Hannah returned home from her weekly "revision" session at a friend's house.

Dave drove me and Hannah to Abi's house where we collected her and then I was dropped at the curry house for curry and beer, which I felt I'd earned.

I didn't sleep for long enough, I never do. There's always something to be done, like a blog post.

Not so dirty pot noodle

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Sun, 01 Oct 2017 13:07:00 +0000

A post shared by Ann Cardus (@a4ann) on Sep 22, 2017 at 2:44pm PDT

Do you hanker after Pot Noodle but deny yourself because you know they're full of things you shouldn't really be eating?

Here's a solution, a homemade pot noodle that's only a little bit dirty.

I don't think these should be made precisely so I'm going to give you a guide rather than exact measurements.

You will need:

A pot of sorts with a lid, I use Kilner 500ml pots
Ramen noodles
Cooked meat - I use chicken
Any old veg chopped up small - think red pepper, spring onion, peas and sweetcorn from the freezer, beans (green or otherwise)
Flavourings. I add a smidgen of the following: light soy sauce, Thai chilli sauce, fish sauce, rice wine
Some leafy green stuff - I've used spinach and kale and preferred the former

If you can, prep in advance and store in the fridge. Ideally, if you've used any frozen veg, you want it to have defrosted when you add the boiling water. If you are preparing just before eating then ensure frozen veg is cooked.

In the bottom of the pot place half a pack of ramen noodles. These are the ones I used: chicken flavour. There are plenty of similar products and they often contain a packet of powder and sachet of oil. Open these and sprinkle/drizzle half of these over noodles.

Add meat so that there's a rough layer on top of the noodles.
Add veg.
Add whatever flavourings you fancy - don't overdo it.
Add leafy green stuff until your pot is bursting.
Store in the fridge until required.
Five minutes before serving, add boiling water to near the top of the pot.
Seal the pot and leave for five mins
Turn pot upside down a few times to mix all the flavours
Serve in the pot or, if you're feeling a little more sophisticated, in a bowl

A post shared by Ann Cardus (@a4ann) on Oct 1, 2017 at 4:52am PDT

"Yeah, and..."

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 29 Sep 2017 22:02:00 +0000

I parked the car in a tight space today.

I didn't use the self-parking thingy but my car does have parking sensors and a rear view camera. I was also parking next to shop windows so there were some reflections to show me how far I was from the car in front and behind the car.

When I stepped out of the car there was an inch between the car and the kerb, and I hadn't hit the kerb once.

My parking efforts had been observed by a man who was sat in his car with the window down. As I stood up, he called across with "I wouldn't have attempted that. I'm impressed."

There are two ways to interpret this comment:

1. "Wow! Those are some seriously amazing parking skills. I'm impressed."
2. "Wow! You're a woman, and you managed to park in a space that I, as a man, wouldn't have attempted. I am comparing your efforts with mine because I don't expect a woman to be good at parking and, as a man, clearly, I am good at parking."

I'm sure he meant the first of these...

Lemon or limoncello (poppy seed) drizzle muffins

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 21 Jul 2017 16:29:00 +0000

Ian said he had some limoncello going spare at home and, as a recent convert to baking, he was looking for a recipe to use it up.

I have tried a lemon and poppy seed muffin recipe in the past but it wasn't the greatest, so I experimented.

I think this recipe should do the trick. And if you don't have limoncello, then just use lemon juice from a bottle to make up the difference.

You will need a 12 hole muffin tin and 12 muffin cases.

Ingredients

230g plain flour
125g caster sugar
1 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp bicarb of soda
4 tbsp poppy seed (optional)
1 egg
250g yoghurt or buttermilk (if you have neither of these, make buttermilk by adding a tsp of lemon juice to milk)
85ml corn oil
Zest of one lemon

For the drizzle, which is a crunchy drizzle:

Juice from one lemon
40ml limoncello (or lemon juice from a bottle)
175g ish granulated sugar

Method

Put muffin cases in the muffin tin
Turn oven on to 160 degrees C fan oven
Zest the lemon and set to one side
Stir flour, sugar, baking powder and bicarb together with poppy seed if using
In a separate bowl mix (barely more than a stir) the egg, yoghurt or buttermilk, corn oil and lemon zest
Combine the dry and wet ingredients by stirring - not mixing, not beating, not whisking, but stirring. Stir until no dry flour visible (scrape the bottom of the bowl with a spoon)
Pop into muffin cases and pop into the oven for 20-24 mins until they are nicely browned on top.
Feel free to use the skewer test to see if they are done (inserted skewer should emerge mixture free)
Whilst muffins are in the oven, juice the lemon, add the limoncello or lemon juice and granulated sugar and stir
Do the washing up and have a cup of tea, or slug from the limoncello bottle
When the muffins come out of the oven, give them a few minutes before skewering the tops about six times per muffin
Then you need to spoon on the drizzle mixture. This is best done with a teaspoon and you need to mix as you spoon the drizzle mixture so that you have a decent amount of sugar mixed in. The drizzle shouldn't be too runny so you may need to adjust the sugar content until it's appropriately spoonable for you
You could dust with poppy seeds but they'll just go everywhere
Leave to cool
Eat, with tea, coffee or bubbly
These are freezable. When defrosting give them an hour or so, or a quick 30 second blast in the microwave. I prefer defrosting these naturally as I like these muffins cool rather than oven warm

Optimism

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 16 Jun 2017 22:57:00 +0000

I am, at heart, an optimist.

But there are times when having a positive outlook, and maintaining it, is a challenge.

With Brexit, Trump's appointment, the recent election, terror attacks and now the terrible fire in the Grenfell tower block, I'm struggling.

The fire has just made me so sad. I keep saying I can't imagine what the victims, their families, the firefighters went through, and it's true, I can't. But it hasn't stopped me trying, and that's what's making me sad.

I look at the responses of some of our politicians and it's all so cold. I wonder if they are so far removed that they can't even try to imagine what it must have been like, or whether there's an emotional barrier they're maintaining to prevent the thoughts from entering their consciousness.

The raw anger and hurt makes complete sense and the contrasting, composed demeanour feels alien.

This should hurt and it should make us sit up and listen. Sometimes, being sad is an appropriate response.

Fried head

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Mon, 20 Feb 2017 19:13:00 +0000

So, today was the day I went for my very first MRI scan.

I wasn't worried. I'd watched enough medical dramas to know that I'd be OK providing didn't have metal embedded in my brain or eye.

It always seems like such a peaceful experience in TV shows like House; all is peace and quiet until the patient is discovered to have ingested metal and then all hell breaks loose.

I took the completely unnecessary precaution of removing my necklace and wedding ring; they were imaging my head so anything below the chin was irrelevant as far as the magnets were concerned.

I was told the machine would be noisy which didn't make sense because it's always silent on the telly. They provided me with headphones to protect my ears (the reason for the scan) and asked me if there was a radio station I'd like to listen to. It was just after Archers time in the afternoon so I asked for Radio 4. I thought I might concentrate a bit more and keep still if I listened to the spoken word rather than music.

Well the machine was flipping loud but I managed to catch most of the Radio 4 Drama. I should have chosen a music station because I found myself listening to a drama called "What will survive?" described thus:

"Kate and Ash are grieving the loss of their mothers. Ash lost his mum six months ago and is struggling to come to terms with her death. When Kate's mum Ruth is rushed to hospital and abruptly snatched away from them the family are thrown into the turmoil of grief all over again..."

The show included a scene in which Ruth is in the Intensive Care Unit attached to some life support machine that beeped a lot. Ruth dies when the beeping flatlines.

I listened to this, in a hospital whilst lying inside a noisy machine. I survived.

They didn't tell me whether they found anything so I have the joy of going back to the crazy torture ENT guy in about 10 days.

The point of all of this is to recommend that for an MRI scan I recommend listening to joyful, happy music, not the death throws of an elderly lady in a radio drama.

Camp cake

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 17 Jun 2016 20:24:00 +0000

Hannah had signed up to family camp and, being the supportive family that we are, she was going alone.

One of the requirements of the camp is that participants take cake to share with fellow campers. Hannah left it too late to bake anything, so I stepped in, and this is what I baked.

It’s a traditional chocolate sponge cake recipe, covered in buttercream with a smattering of white chocolate buttons. I was impressed at the height of the cake - some cakes rise better than others, and this was a good one.

You will need two 7 inch cake tins, preferably with deep-ish sides. The need a circle of baking parchment on the base and I greased the paper and the sides of the tin. My mum used to flour her cake tins too but her tins weren’t non-stick, whereas mine are.

Ingredients:

225g baking margarine - I use Stork and it has never failed me. I buy the Stork in tubs - the stuff sold in blocks is best for pastry. This may seem like a baking crime (surely butter is better) but margarine produces lighter results than butter.
225g caster sugar
4 medium eggs (I used large eggs and they should be at room temperature)
40g cocoa mixed with 4tbsp hot water (if you use medium eggs I would use 5tbsp of hot water here)
225g SR flour (I used plain flour with 3tsp baking powder because I resent cupboard space being used for plain and SR flour)

For the buttercream:

220g butter which needs to be soft and squidgy
340g icing sugar
110g cocoa
2-4 tbsp milk

Optional decoration:

17 white chocolate buttons

Method:

Pre-heat your oven to 160 degrees.
Beat sugar and marg together for quite a while until it’s super light and fluffy. The colour should change as you beat it with the colour getting lighter and lighter.
Add the eggs and beat some more. You will have a curdled mixture at this point. You could add a bit of flour but I wouldn’t. The curdling will not adversely impact the end result.
Add the cocoa and water mixture and beat again.
Fold in the flour. You could use a mixer again here but the recipe said fold, so I folded.
Scrape into cake tins and try and level the mixture out as best you can. It sort of self levels a bit anyway so precision isn’t fantastically important. If you have digital scales though you can use them to try and ensure you have even mixture distribution between the tins. #geekcooking
Bake on the middle shelf for 45 to 55 mins. A light press on the top that gets a bounce back determines doneness.
When baked allow to cool for a couple of mins before turning out onto a wire rack. A tall cylinder (like a tall mug) can be used to help push the cake up through the tin. Put the mug down on the surface, put the cake half on the mug and gently push the sides of the tin down to release the cake from its metal prison.
While the cakes are cooling you can make the buttercream.
Very gently beat the butter, the cocoa and half the icing sugar. If you start mixing vigorously you’ll have icing sugar clouds everywhere.
Once the icing sugar is incorporated you can carefully add the remaining icing sugar and the milk. Reserve a bit of the milk because the milk amount is what determines the texture. You’re aiming for spreadable.
Once the cake has cooled spread enough buttercream on one half and sandwich the two halves together.
Put several splurges of buttercream on the top of the cake and use a palette knife (or maybe the back of a spoon) to speed the mixture around to cover the top.
To cover the sides I prefer to put more buttercream on the top and then gradually ease it onto the sides.
If you have an excess of buttercream you have two options: eat it or freeze it. Buttercream freezes very well and can be beaten again when defrosted before using.
I’m not very good at decorating cakes but to get the look in the picture, grab a fork and work the icing upwards using the fork. Continue the working the icing from the outer edge to the centre.
You’ll end up with a quiff in the centre of the cake. Place a white chocolate button on it and then place remaining buttons around the edge of the cake.
To serve, give to your daughter and let her take it to Scout camp ensuring you’ll never see it again.

1970s Yoghurt in a flask

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Mon, 16 May 2016 20:01:00 +0000

When I was growing up my mum made this, not often, but I remember it.

It's cheaper than shop bought and it feels more wholesome simply because it's homemade and you're responsible for what goes into it.
To make 1.2l you will need:

A flask - I treated myself to a gorgeous cranberry 1.2l Thermos flask (which, as an aside, comes with a fifty year guarantee)
1l UHT whole milk
50g skimmed milk powder
6 tbsp live yoghurt (or 90ml)
A cooking thermometer
Funnel

Method:

Fill the flask with boiling water to heat it up and then mix the skimmed milk powder with the milk in a saucepan.

Heat gently to 46°C stirring all the time

When you reach the right temperature, add the live yoghurt and stir well.

Empty the flask of the hot water and fill with milk mixture using the funnel to avoid making a mess.

Pop the lid on and store for 8-24 hours. The closer to 24 hours, the creamier the result.

Pour into one or many receptacles and when cool, pop into fridge where it will be good for about five days. I store portion-sized amounts in jam jars in the fridge and mix with lemon curd when I want to eat it. Ethan likes a raisin and runny honey whereas I'm a also a fan of stewed rhubarb.

You can keep some of the yogurt you've made as a starter for your next batch. If you want to this can be frozen and defrosted when needed.

Moving thoughts, or thought on moving

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Wed, 09 Mar 2016 21:35:00 +0000

So I've just finished week 3, and I have some random thoughts.

You have to see a lot of molehills before you see a mole (and I'm still waiting to see one).

Running through mud is a pain in the backside. The upside is that if you end up with mud splashes on your running gear then it looks like you've tried hard.

Running is easier when you're listening to music.

It's really, incredibly annoying when the app you're following that tells you when to run/walk crashes.

It doesn't matter when you go out, it's better to go out then not.

Planning your route so that when you hear the words "Your workout is complete" just as you see your house, is a source of satisfaction.

Planning your route so that the running bits are downhill or on the flat and the walking bits are uphill is also an art form.

Chocolate and pear not upside-down pudding

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Mon, 22 Feb 2016 18:30:00 +0000

I saw this recipe, read the instructions and there were things that I didn't like.

Firstly it required putting skillet or frying pan in the oven. Now I know that some frying pans are simply not meant for the oven. I think mine would be OK, but why would I want to risk it?

Secondly, the cake, which has gooey elements, needs to be turned upside-down and there were cautionary words in the instructions to "be careful not to burn yourself". I'm very good at burning myself so I have adapted the recipe to avoid melting frying pan handles and also to avoid heat-related injuries. If you do burn yourself then don't come running to me - I've removed the highest risk element.

You will need a frying pan (not for the oven) and a pie dish - approx 20-25cm in diameter. I'd say a tart or quiche dish wouldn't be deep enough.

You can do quite a bit of preparation ahead of the cooking bit allowing you to appear super organised as you just chuck everything together at the last minute.

Serves 4-8 based on level of appetite and greed

Ingredients

35g butter (preferably unsalted)
250g light brown sugar
4 ripe pears, peeled, cored and thickly sliced (I find pears to be fickle beasts when it comes to ripeness so I used the drained contents of two tins of pears)
150g plain chocolate
180g plain flour
40g cocoa powder
1/4 tsp bicarb of soda
1 tsp baking powder
2 large eggs
200ml buttermilk (if you don't have buttermilk, and frankly who does, then use milk soured with lemon juice - you add the lemon juice, wait a bit and the milk goes all yucky - perfect buttermilk substitute)
75ml vegetable oil (I like to use corn oil)

Method

Melt the butter in a frying pan
Stir in half the sugar and heat for a couple of minutes stirring continuously until it becomes a light caramel colour
Take off the heat and scatter in the pears
Ensure the pears are coated in the sugar mixture and then transfer to the pie dish
Break the chocolate into bite-sized pieces (or if you’re as much of a glutton as me, maybe half bite-sized pieces)
Scatter the chocolate pieces amongst the pears in the dish
In a clean bowl mix the flour, cocoa, bicarb and baking powder
In a separate jug or bowl which together the eggs, remaining sugar, buttermilk and oil
Mix the flour mixture with the egg mixture to form a batter. This can now be kept in the fridge until needed for the cooking bit.
When you’re ready for your domestic god or goddess moment, turn the oven on to 180degrees C (fan).
When the oven is at the right temperature pour the batter on top of the pear and sugar and then bake for 40 minutes.
Stand for five minutes prior to serving.

The squidgy, oozy nature of this dessert is by design not accident.

Delicious with ice cream, cream or the filthy, dirty squirty aerosol cream that lives in our fridge.

I'm back and it's pretty ugly

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Sun, 21 Feb 2016 10:42:00 +0000

My three months off running has just come to an end. I can officially re-commence running.

In the intervening time I have acquired trail running shoes and some nice running gear for when it's wet and/or cold.

What I appear to have lost in the same three months is any fitness my previous exercise might have bestowed upon me.

I decided to start from scratch again with the C25K app. I'm very conscious that if I get at all disheartened with my progress I'll crumble and any willpower or motivation will evaporate. So if I keep the goals achievable, I'll stick with it.

It was muddy and slippery and my trail running shoes didn't stop my sliding and they still gave me numb toes. I think I slid less than I would have in regular trainers though and the numb toes thing is just me.

I have been out twice, once in the cold, and once in damp and miserable conditions. I also have a cold so am taking it easy.

It's OK. Running is better when it's beautiful and cheery outside but this is OK. I plan to keep trying.

Smoked mackerel and chive tart

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Mon, 15 Feb 2016 18:56:00 +0000

This isn't smocked mackerel and chive tart but smoked mackerel and chive tart. It's a subtle difference.

I like smoked mackerel in limited quantities and in this recipe the quantities are just right.

If you want to skip the pastry making and buy ready made shortcrust, I won't judge you but this method wasn't difficult, and I speak as a pastryphobe.

You'll need a 22cm tart/quiche tin preferably with removable base, although not essential. If you only have a 25cm tin then don't fret. The pastry quantities will still be sufficient but you might want to increase the filling ingredients about 20-25%. I was in this situation and added a bit more mackerel, crème fraîche, horseradish but not more chives or egg.

Ingredients

320g ready rolled shortcrust pastry or a block which you roll yourself or:
250g plain flour
pinch of salt
140g butter (very cold and cubed)
2 tbsp (roughly) iced water

2 large eggs beaten
180g smoked mackerel
100ml milk
200ml crème fraîche (can be half fat but why would you)
3 tsp creamed horseradish
25g fresh chives - chopped

Method
For the pastry:

Add the salt to the flour and then pop in a food processor with the cubed butter
Whizz until you get a fine crumb
Gradually add water until a dough forms
At this point I like to chill for 30 mins but you don't have to
Roll out pastry between sheets of greaseproof paper and then line your greased (with butter) tart tin with a bit of pastry overhang, about a centimetre. I usually trim the pastry with scissors to get an even overhang. The overhang is there because pastry shrinks when cooked. Make sure you push the pastry gently into the tin - this is best done with the back of the index finger.
Prick the base and sides with a fork, also prick the corner bits at the edge of the base - this area is my bête noire because it always seems to puff up when baked
Chill the pastry in its case for 30 mins and put a baking sheet in the oven and turn the oven on to 200°C
Blind bake for 15 mins by placing the tin on the baking sheet - this means the tart case with baking parchment (I find the pre-cut and fluted cake tin liners from Lakeland are perfect) and fill with baking beans, or rice or beans or whatever. These baking beans are sold in a standard amount and I use two lots and make sure they are pushed into the corners. The reason you bake on a baking sheet is that the pastry is quite a buttery mixture and some butter can ooze whilst baking. A baking sheet is easier to clean than an oven.
Take out and carefully remove baking beans and baking parchment.
Bake for another 5 mins (this wasn't in the original recipe but I did it by accident and it seemed to work - if it ain't broke...)
Take out and brush base with beaten egg - you can try to brush the sides as well but I found that a bit faffy
Bake for another 5 mins
Take out of the oven
Carefully trim away the pastry overhang. I use a knife and find this is a tedious and messy process. Why someone doesn't just produce a tart tin that's a little deeper to accommodate this problem, I just don't know. It would save me time and stress hormones.
Your base can now be filled or can wait until you're ready for the next stage. You can freeze your case now if you want to.

For the filling:

Take the skin off the smoked mackerel.
Run your fingers along its spine to feel for bones. They probably wouldn't do any harm but I like to remove the ones I can feel or see.
Tear flesh into smallish pieces (about 2/3 the size of your little finger?) and scatter in your tart case.
In a large jug whisk eggs, milk, crème fraîche, horseradish and chives. You can add a healthy grind of black pepper too if you fancy it. You're really just combining the ingredients thoroughly here not trying to whip air into the mixture.
Pour over the mackerel and then bake for 25-30 minutes. I used a 25 cm tin and found I was baking it for about 40 minutes to get a golden colour. You'll also notice that the tart puffs up when baked but sinks down when removed from the oven. This is perfectly normal.

I wouldn't recommend eating this hot, but if warm or cold it is delicious.

Best pancake recipe

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Tue, 09 Feb 2016 21:44:00 +0000

I've tried a few pancake recipes over the years and the one I tried this year is the one I'm sticking with.
It makes ten small pancakes
Ingredients

100g plain flour
pinch af salt
2 eggs
1 tbsp vegetable oil
300ml milk
butter for cooking

Method

Put flour in a bowl and add salt. I have a wonderful big Le Creuset jug that is perfect for this and allows the last dregs to be poured into the frying pan.
Make a well in the flour and break the eggs into the well.
Add the oil - don't use olive oil because you don't want a strong tasting oil. Rapeseed oil is fine, or corn oil.
Add 50ml of the milk.
Whisk using hand whisk. I think using a blender or electric/wand whisk, is overkill. You are aiming for a sloppy smooth paste consistency.
Gradually add remaining milk, mixing all the time.
Rest or don’t rest the mix - it doesn’t make any difference.
Put a small knob of butter in a frying pan over a medium to high heat and, when it’s bubbling, poor enough mixture to cover two thirds of the pan and whoosh it around so that it covers the whole of the base of the pan. I use a ladle to try and ensure the same amount (about half a ladle) is used each time.
When the underside has cooked feel free to flip the pancake or use a fish slice if you’re of a more cowardly persuasion (I don’t flip).
When the new underside is cooked your pancake is ready.
Serve with whatever takes your fancy and start with a new knob of butter for the next pancake.

The depressing thing about making pancakes is that the chef spends all their time making the blasted things and there’s never enough time to eat one. I end up waiting until the family have had their fill and then I get left with whatever batter is left in the bowl. I then cook, eat, cook, eat, whereas everyone else enjoys a continual stream of pancakeage. Pancakes are a lovely treat though and I always mean to enjoy them on more than just Shrove Tuesday.

Slow sloe gin

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Wed, 23 Dec 2015 20:35:00 +0000

This is the easiest way to make sloe gin in my limited experience.

Pick sloes. These look a bit like blueberries but they grow on blackthorn trees often amongst bramble in hedgerows. Google images so that you know what you're looking for. The important thing is to recognise the blackthorn leaf (narrow and about two inches long) as well as the berry. They appear in August/September and stay on the trees until October. If you don't plan to freeze them then you should wait until after the first frost.

The sloe is part of the plum family and is like a smaller, more bitter version of the damson. They taste vile.

In order to use one litre of gin, you will need 425g of sloes. If you use fresh sloes then they will need washing and checking for creepy crawlies. You'll then need to spike each berry with a pin to pierce the skin. I wash, check for bugs and then freeze the berries which dispenses with the need to prick the skin. You can probably use them frozen, but I defrost before using. I open freeze and then, once frozen, scoop into bags for most efficient use of freezer space.

You will need two receptacles: one for the "brewing" process and one for the bottling. Used gin bottles are fine for both of these but Kilner jars are also fine for the brewing process. My preference is the "alcoholics special" 1 1/2 litre gin bottles for the brewing process (Sainsbury sell gin in 1 1/2 litre bottles and I'm sure they're freely available everywhere) and Kilner or Kilner-style bottles (IKEA do a range as do Wilkinsons) for the bottling procedure.

All vessels must be sterilised (allegedly). I do this by cleaning them and rinsing thoroughly in hot water before bunging glass/ceramic bits in the oven at a temperature of about 80-90 degrees Celsius for about 20 mins. Wait until hand warm before handling. All rubber seals/metal lids get boiled in water for about ten minutes. If you're using "fresh" gin bottles then I reckon you can skip the sterilisation. I'm still unconvinced it's absolutely necessary as alcohol kills bacteria (doesn't it?) but I'm too scared to risk it.

If using a litre of gin then pop 225g caster sugar into a 1.5l bottle or Kilner jar that you have sterilised. Follow this with 425g of sloes. If using a bottle then you just pop them in one by one. Finish off with the gin.

Lid on and shake it all about. Store in dark room (I don't know why it needs to be a dark room but I use kitchen cupboards or the cupboard under the stairs.)

For the first week you need to invert/shake daily to try and dissolve the sugar. After the sugar is dissolved you need do this once a week for a month. After this you should have a beautifully ruby red syrupy goo that just needs to mature. The longer you leave it the better. Generally if you make it in early October it should be drinkable for Christmas.

Prior to drinking you need to bottle it. You'll need muslin (the type used for preserving not the type you use on babies), a funnel and a bottle.

It's at this point you'll appreciate my advice regarding the use of the alcoholics special 1 1/2 litre gin bottles.

Arrange funnel into the top of the sterilised bottle. Arrange muslin such the all liquid going into the funnel has to pass through the muslin. I do this by stretching the muslin over the top of the funnel and holding in place with a hi-tech elastic band. I then make the muslin a bit "baggy" so that stray sloes don't bounce off the muslin.

Pour from brewing container into muslin adorned funnel. Be careful not to over-pour. The advantage of brewing in a bottle is that pouring process is quite un-messy. Take it from me that pouring from a Kilner jar will break your heart as the ruby red elixir will spill onto your work surface without any opportunity for retrieval.

It will keep for a really long time, not that I'd know...

It tastes like cough syrup remembered through rose-tinted tastebuds (not sure that works linguistically), is good to keep and lovely to give.

I would recommend that when sloes are on the trees you go mad, pick loads and make as much as you can.

Happy Half Term Cake

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Fri, 23 Oct 2015 15:56:00 +0000

This recipe is an amalgamation of two recipes and I haven’t followed the recipes exactly so I’m posting this for the next time I want to make it.

I should explain that I’m not always one to bake a Happy Half Term Cake, and this particular cake followed a fractious car journey in which I annoyed Ethan by mentioning the lost scrum cap and the fact he has to buy a replacement, and then Ethan annoyed Hannah by telling her she was rubbish at doing homework. I told them there was no cake for anyone in a bad mood and by the end of the journey we were all smiles.

Ingredients

165g butter, plus extra for greasing - I used Stork baking marg which often produces better results than butter
165g soft light brown or light brown muscovado sugar
325g self-raising flour
1 rounded tsp baking powder
1 rounded tsp ground cinnamon
4 large eggs
4 tbsp milk
2 large ripe bananas - I think the recipe can take an extra half a banana

For buttercream

125g soft butter (i.e. not straight from the fridge)
350g icing sugar
150g Carnation Caramel

For Caramel drizzle

Most of the rest of the Caramel tin. If you’re a pig like me half of the rest will end up in your mouth and never make it to the cake.

You will also need three cake tins, mine were 8 inch. The original cake recipe only used one deep tin but I cannot cut cake to make layers; things just get messy when I try. If you only have one deep cake tin and do have the skill to do this then by all means knock yourself out - just increase the baking time to about 45 mins.

Method

Pre-heat oven to 170C fan.
Grease and line the bottom of three round 21cm/8 inch loose-bottomed cake tins.
Cream the butter and sugar together until smooth and a pale, creamy colour.
In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and cinnamon.
One at a time, beat each egg into the butter mixture along with a tbsp of the dry mixture
Beat in the milk and fold in the rest of the dry ingredients until well combined (you can just use the mixer but don’t go mad - you just need to mix until it’s all combined).
In the bowl that contained the flour, mash the bananas until smooth and lump-free
Then fold into the rest of the mixture until well combined or just mix in using a mixer.
Spoon into the tins and smooth over the surface.
Bake for 20-25 mins, until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. The edges of the cake should also be coming away from the sides of the tins.
Leave to cool for 5 mins, then remove from tin and continue cooling on a wire rack.
Beat butter, icing sugar and caramel. Start this slowly to avoid icing sugar clouds.
When it’s light and buttercreamy then it’s ready to use.
I found it’s best to stack the cakes with the top bit facing uppermost as the buttercream can lift cake crumbs as it’s being spread. This only really matters for the top deck so stack in a way that suits you.
I use slightly less than a third of the icing sandwiching the cakes and just over a third for the top layer.
Beat the remaining caramel to loosen it and try and drizzle it on the top of the buttercream. I got in a mess doing this and ended up blobbing lines of caramel on the top. To make it look like this was deliberate I used a skewer and dragged the icing in a spiral. Go mad, do whatever comes naturally. For me that was trying to rescue something that hadn’t quite gone to plan.

Eat with tea or coffee, or a bottle of wine. Remember, this is Happy Half Term Cake.

Still running

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Sun, 27 Sep 2015 20:40:00 +0000

Having moved onto the 10K app you might think I’m now ready for a marathon.

Not quite. I’m keeping my jogging to roughly 30 mins which means that I don’t complete the whole programme each session. So if it wants me to do three 15 minute sessions I’ll stop after the first two. Today it required three 17 minute sessions and I did the first two.

I found today difficult so took a couple of “get my breath back” breaks which I did whilst pausing the programme.

I’m getting out at least twice a week and, when I can, three times.

I’m not being as tough on myself when I’m out. I don’t blindly carry on if I’m finding it really difficult; I’ll take a break.

I hope I can carry on when it gets colder and wetter. I don’t want to be a fair weather jogger.

My aim is to try and get a little bit faster. Extra distance would be a bonus but a bit faster than walking pace would be good.

Labouring under a misapprehension

noreply@blogger.com (Ann Cardus) — Thu, 20 Aug 2015 20:35:00 +0000

I'm a bit pissed off.

Labour are deciding who is OK to vote in the Labour leadership election.

Apparently not voting for Labour in the recent election means you don't qualify. I think this is garbage.

If you weren't a fan of the way Ed Miliband was running the Labour party at the last election then you're one of the reasons there's a leadership election. Apparently, if you expressed your opinion by placing your vote elsewhere, you don't get a day in who should replace Mr M. How does that work?

Surely anyone who has a Socialist heart and/or mind should be eligible to have a say in the leadership election.

I know Corbyn is doing well amongst Labour supporters but surely these people didn't vote Labour because the Labour that went into the last election was not Corbyn's Labour.

I'm not sure what the answer is but using the people that voted for Ed as the base for electing a new leader seems to be a flawed policy.