Summery summary

Remember how cold and wet it was in June?

And how much one longed for a bit of warmth to bask in?

Well ha ha ha.

We got it.

That's 114º F.

In the shade.

Not so much basking weather,

as

lurking behind closed shutters

hanging wet towels at windows

freezing towels as compresses

and rediscovering the joys of Uno weather.

Because if you did venture out

it was so blindingly bright

and pulsatingly hot

that even being sensible in the shade

wasn't an option.

There was a lovely pool,

but only one sun umbrella.

Don't be deceived by that cloud.

It never even attempted to shield us from the sun.

The box moth was thriving though.

There were hideous clouds of them

being enjoyed misguidedly by the tourists

in lavender fields.

But these murals were unexpectedly lovely.

And being awake early one morning

I heard a roaring sound and to my astonishment

saw this -

Since returning to a land of wholly acceptable variants 

on normal summer temperatures

I have been grateful for the ability to think, move around freely and sleep.

The grandchildren had meanwhile surely grown 

more than a week's absence could have made possible.

One of them having clocked up his first year

in the blink of an eye.

Important announcement

Empowered by Quince Tree creativity on the iced dessert front

I have here an absolute humdinger of an ice cream recipe

and I think it only right to share it.

Take one tub of decent ready made custard,

preferably with a classy speckle of Madagascan Vanilla seeds,

(not Bird's)

stir in some double cream,

then, and this is the genius bit,

swirl in some lightly whipped (not regular) Nutella

and chopped pecans.

Put it into an ice cream maker

or freeze it in a plastic box, stirring it around a bit

if you remember to before it has frozen solid.

I have used the quantity 'some' because

I didn't measure anything in my bid for

independence from the constraints of recipe books

which I have hitherto been in thrall to.

I wanted to call it Nuts and Pecs

but O. said better not.

The Marmite ad is for Old Black.

The Drawer

From time to time I picture myself having to pack up and move 

every single item in this house to somewhere smaller.

Still fresh in my memory is the last move

(sixteen years ago)

when the admirably thorough removal men 

wrapped, packed and shipped everything for us,

 including a large twig, just because it was in the shed 

and I hadn't thrown it away.

Tackling this kitchen drawer was like being on Time Team.

A trench was opened and then layer by layer

I exposed our culinary history.

Gentle scraping revealed a rice paddle from the sushi period,

an aerolatte from the hot chocolate period,

 patisserie tools including madeleine tins and myriad shaped cutters from the

trying too hard period, 

not forgetting a rare lattice maker 

for a coulibiac of salmon,

from the short lived dinner party era.

Funnels for jams and elderflower cordial appeared 
from the self-sufficiency age -

the mushroom hunter's knife and brush (ditto).

Next came a tumbled collection of graters, zesters,

basters, skewers, chopsticks,

poached egg shapers, sweetcorn spearers,

scoops, shovels, measurers, beaters,

ice cream maker appurtenances,

and herbal tea infusers,

probably disturbed by ploughing.

 In a fine sediment at the bottom of the trench,

there were fridge magnets -

Homer Simpson and accessories,

poetry kits,

geometric pattern makers

and evidence of obscure rituals 

where pocket money was exchanged for

 novelty items at the end of school trips.

Many of these artefacts were washed and bagged 

and put to one side for conservation.

Many were not.

Maybe I should have been an archaeologist.

Clean, clean, clean, clean

clean, clean,clean.

Clean, clean, clean, clean, clean.

And a dish of kumquats.