The Thrill of it All

Passing your driving test. There's no better feeling in the world is there! Except, as I discovered, much to my enormous surprise, that there is.

On Tuesday morning as I woke up feeling nervous, I quickly remembered that today was the day.  After months of hard work, the highs, the lows, the good days and bad days, here it was, The Day.  Of course the theory test had proved quite a challenge, and after months of relentless nagging to practice the highway code, but nevertheless leaving it until two days beforehand, in the end that one went off without a hitch, and no 'I told you so's' were necessary, despite much eye-rolling and head-shaking in the days and weeks before.

It all seems surreal now, those hours spent driving to Norwich, around Norwich and then back home from Norwich.  I can only guess at how it felt for I can't know for sure.  The only thing of which I am certain is the pure joy and bursting pride I felt as I opened the front door. And as I did so I looked into the eyes of my son who brandished his certificate emblazoned with the word, 'Pass'.

And there you have it, as great as my own small personal victories have felt, nothing will ever beat the feeling deep in my heart of seeing the victories and achievements of my children -the sense of pride and the thrill of witnessing a milestone in their lives. Yes I was glad when it was me standing on the doorstep with a smile on my face, but seeing the uncontrollable grin on my son's face outshone that feeling in a way I could never imagine.

Who knew ...

Happy New Year

I say it without sarcasm or loaded with hidden meaning.  I say it with absolute conviction.  It is a heartfelt wish to everyone because I think we all need a happy new year.

My apologies to anyone who had a super 2016, abundant with joy and excitement, with nothing to mar their jolly days, but to the other 99% of you, 2016 was a shit load of crap, excuse my French. At this point I must interrupt this broadcast to ponder ... after we leave the EU will the phrase 'Excuse my French' be banned? Will we in fact be forbidden from even uttering anything that smacks of 'them'? Sacre Bleu, I hear you say.  Will baguette become known down the local bakery as 'A long white'? Will spaghetti bolognaise be banned altogether, and as for your morning croissant ... forget it. It's a fry up or nothing.

But let's not dwell on that.  Theresa May won't be hurried, it seems, so I expect we will have plenty of time to work out the important details.

Back to my New Year's greeting to the world. I wish you all Good Health, for without our health, nothing else means much.  Look at George Michael, David Bowie and all the successful and prosperous who popped their clogs last year.  All the money in the world and yet none of them could cheat the hand that fate had dealt them - the drugs probably didn't help either.  So you see, good health must be right up there at the top of our wish list.

Next, I wish you happiness.  What about the money? I hear you mutter, as you look at the first bank statement of the year and it doesn't make for pretty reading.  If I have money then I'll be happy, you say. Wrong!  If money was the key to happiness then why does Victoria Beckham always look as if someone just ate her last cherry tomato. Happiness comes from within darlings.  I'm talking about true happiness.  Think about it.

Last but not least, I do wish you prosperity.  I wish you an abundance of the green stuff.  Not to make you happy, but so that you always have what you need. See previous notes on happiness/ money etc.

That's all I have to say.  Hand on heart, I wish you all good things.  And let's all try to be nice this year.  Let's make time for people, and keep the 'Christmas Spirit' alive all year round.  Life is about to get interesting, to say the least (thank you America and David Cameron), but we must try not to listen so much to the Press, the bloody journalists who distribute misery like sweeties in a playground, to those with an insatiable appetite for their toxic biased so-called news.  Take it with a pinch of salt.  It's their version of the truth, or perhaps not even the truth at all. What I do know is that sometimes we just have to go with the flow, and accept what we cannot change, and as 2017 begins, let's enjoy the journey that life is.

After all, in spite of everything and in the words of Doris, 'Che sera, sera'

The End is Nigh

So, it happened. The thing that nobody thought could happen, not even the people campaigning for it to happen. And yet, a majority voted for it. Makes sense, right? NO! NO! NO!
It makes no sense at all. Or is it me? Am I missing something crucial in this logic?
Let me just clarify this in my mind - LOTS OF THE PEOPLE WHO VOTED TO LEAVE ARE NOW SHOCKED THAT WE ARE GOING TO LEAVE.  In fact, quite a few have even said they're not really sure they actually, deep down, hand on heart honestly wanted to leave.  They just wanted to let David Cameron know they were fed up with him and his nasty austerity measures and the fact that he NEVER EVER LISTENS!  Well, he's listening now.  Only it's too late. Whoops ...
I know I sound a little irked, are you sensing it too?  The truth is, I'm very very sad.  Let me be straight with you; while it's ok being British, I really like the idea of being European.
I like the idea of Tapas and Croissants (well I did before the Atkins Diet anyway), and Schnitzel and Tiramisu, and herring and Dutch Apple Pie ... oh Dutch Apple Pie.  In two years time will we be back to a life of meat and two veg and cheese and pineapple on sticks?  Will the heady days of Lidl's speciality weeks be but a thing of the past? Will we yearn for Polish Week when sausages with unpronouncable names were winking at us tantalisingly from the shelves? Or Spanish week, with an abundance of Jamon Serrano and Manchego Cheese?  Or Greek week?  One of my personal favourites,
It's not looking good, chaps!  While the economy is in a state of flux, and Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty is bandied about ominously, take the opportunity to consider the real impact of our exit from the EU. And when you've done that, get up to Lidl quick smart, and start stock-piling. 

The Winds of Change

Change is good - apparently.  For me, as much as I like to think of myself as a free spirit, a 'go with the flow' kind of gal, the truth is, I'm not.  I like to know where I am and what I'm doing and when I'll be doing it.  I'd be the first admit it, I'm stuck in a rut, or as I like to think of myself in a more kindly fashion; a creature of habit.  But enough's enough.  I'm bored with my rut.
Is it too late for a New Year's resolution I wonder?  Can I just add to my ever-growing list now, or must I wait until next year to change my ways?  Maybe I can begin this very minute?  And you, the reader, can witness the transformation in front of your very nose (or computer screen)?
Right, here we go.  I will embrace change.  I will take every opportunity that comes my way, wherever it may take me.  I will travel to faraway lands ...starting with Lidl, to buy some Serrano ham on offer this week. Well we all have to start somewhere don't we!

The End is Pie

It seems that our pie supply has run dry.  I'm suffering from Pie Withdrawal symptoms and may need Pie Therapy. If I'd never tried the Steak and Kidney, or the Game Pie, or the Steak and Ale Pie or the Chicken and Mushroom Pie, not only would I be half a stone lighter, but I would never have been seduced by the nectar of the gods, Pie.
The trouble is, once you've tasted Pie, you just want more.  Your appetite becomes insatiable, you have Pie cravings - quite simply, you cannot go on without it.
If you think I'm bonkers then you've never tasted Kews Pies. With their melt in the mouth pastry, the delicious tender pieces of  steak and kidney enveloped in a hearty gravy, the creamy mash and oh my god, did I mention the minty mushy peas? Who needs Mr Grey when I've got Mr Kew? Except I haven't. It's all gone pie the wayside, and pie the way, I'm sure I'm not the only one suffering.  I bet if I started a Pie-tition, never mind reinstating Clarkson, how about reinstating my Pie Shop? Yes. Now there's a thought. 

I Love Nora Ephron

I've been ill in bed for two days now, and I must admit, they are probably the best two days I've enjoyed consecutively since I went to Barcelona with my sister last year.  That particular trip followed several bad days leading on from my birthday which I'd rather not talk about.  Yes I know it was me that brought it up in the first place, but still, in case you were thinking of mentioning it, I'm just saying, I'd rather you didn't.
It probably seems a bit odd that I should be enjoying what ought to be a mind-numbing, self-pitying period of illness-induced confinement to my bed, but in actual fact it's been rather nice.  Ok, here it is, the reason why I'm particularly perky despite my malady - it's all because of Nora Ephron. Revisiting the 'birthday' which should not be mentioned, for said 'birthday', I was the ungrateful recipient of a big fat hardback, The Most of Nora Ephron. The last time I read a book this big was probably during the heady days of o-levels when I had time and patience to lose myself in my joy of reading. There was little revision that summer, as I recall, but many happy days spent in the back garden, sprawled on a blanket on the grass, reading anything OTHER than the books I was supposed to be reading, which as far as I was concerned were a little too dull for my extravagant tastes. I think that once I'd finished all the Mills and Boon paperbacks in Barkingside library I ventured onto hardbacks covering such diverse subjects as ; analyzing your dreams, how to become a journalist and how to be an illustrator as well as quite a few Daphne du Maurier's who I fell in love with after I saw the film, The Frenchman's Creek. Heady days!
These days the only hardbacks I manage to peruse are usually penned by such literary names as Delia or Nigella. It's life, I suppose. Who has time to read these days? Exactly.  Which is why it's been such a joy, such a nostalgic visit to my misspent youth, just to lay in bed and read a whole book. And not just any old book, but a Nora Ephron book - I love Nora Ephron. And even better, I get sympathy and food brought to me at regular intervals. It's just like being sixteen again, but even better! No exams at the end of it ...

Neighbours

Just to be clear, I'm not talking about the Australian soap - does it even exist anymore? I could digress here, and take a little trip down memory lane, and talk about the days when Neighbours the tv show was a brand new phenomenon, showing us that a window into so-called ordinary people's lives didn't have to take place in a pub amidst rows of red-bricked terraced houses with back yards and inclement weather, or even in  a pub amidst stone cottages and farms and inclement weather, but instead in the golden Australian sunshine, where people smiled and sung, some even carving out a rather successful career later on - yes Kylie, with the unnaturally firm buttocks, I'm talking about you.

However, instead I will stick to the intended subject here - Neighbours. In the concise Oxford English Dictionary, definition 2b is as follows;  a fellow human being, esp. as having claims on friendship. So more than just a person who happens to live next to or near to us.  The thing with neighbours, like families, is that you can't choose them.  It's a lottery and you generally get what you're given, unless you're very very rich and can choose not to have any at all - like Kylie, or the Queen.

So, since I am neither the Queen, nor Kylie (with the unnaturally firm buttocks), I have neighbours.  Or, to be more precise, I did have neighbours. Until they moved out.  I will probably get some new ones soon. But quite frankly, I'd rather have the old ones back.  I liked them.  And against all probability, and quite by chance, we became friends - enjoying chats over the garden fence, sharing cooking apples from our tree, and even sharing recipes.  And this is where it all gets tricky.  You see, for me, sharing recipes is a commitment to something far greater than passing acquaintances and chats over the fence.  It is bonding in the most profound sense.  I would not share recipes with just anyone, you know.  It would be like sharing my most secret of secrets, baring my soul even.  A little over-dramatic? Maybe. But trust me, if you've ever tasted Marlena'sApple Jablcznik you'd know what I'm talking about. And I would hope she'd agree having tasted my apple almond pudding, my Norwegian apple cake or even my apple crumble.

Sadly our days of chatting over the fence, or on the front doorstep are over, but hopefully we'll continue to share apples and recipes for a long time to come.  And in the meantime, whoever you are, future neighbour, I hope we will like each other even half as much. In the words of the poetic theme tune, 'Neighbours, everybody needs good neighbours'. And on that note, I must go now, it's almost  time for my drumming group to arrive, and then I need to cut the grass - I find it always helps me sleep if I'm suffering with a little insomnia. Oh, and those floors need sanding too ... welcome to our street. I hope you'll be just as happy as we are!