Porridge

                                                                                         Italian Bistros
 

 

Dear reader,

Apparently Russian soldiers used a Slavic word pronounced  like "bystry" which means 'quick' or 'hurry' to demand that their food be produced as soon as possible.  The term stuck and restaurants that served simple food quickly became known as bistros.

The food served in bistros is typically simple, but delicious. The focus is on quality rather than quantity.  This means that the portions are usually smaller but the flavors intense. Bistros typically serve a variety of French-inspired dishes, such as salads, soup and bread.

The difference between a bistro and a brasserie is that while both establishments offer some of the best examples of French cuisine, bistros are more commonly associated with a casual ambiance and smaller menus, while brasseries feature a wider selection of food and extended hours.

                                                                                   *

Easter Day today.  We went to church which was looking lovely, masses of spring flowers and moss.  Easter Day is my favourite in the Christian calendar.  I think the Christian story is such an amazing one. Jesus Christ rising from the tomb and bringing hope and love and forgiveness to us all. I took communion which I haven't done for five years, and it was a beautiful return especially thinking about Christ's words at the Last Supper.   "Take, eat this is my body which is given to you....."

                                                                                    *

From Gilbert White   March 31st 1768 in Hampshire

'Black weather.  Cucumber fruit swells.  Rooks sit.  This day the dry weather has lasted a month.'

From Gilbert White   March 31st  1771 in Hampshire

'The face of the earth naked to a surprising degree.  Wheat hardly to be seen, and no signs of any grass:  turnips all gone, and sheep in a starving way.  All provisions rising in price.   Farmers cannot sow for want of rain.'

From Richard Jefferies  March31st 1880 in Surrey

'Rain at last weeks of the driest weather.  Rain in night and early morning.'

 

 

Porridge

The kitchen maid

plunges thin white arms

into the heavy cast-iron pot,

scours the glutinous porridge

from its insides.

She imagines her mistress

out in her carriage

on pleasure calls,

wearing lilac silk,

freshwater pearls around her neck,

her hands, idle white, in her lap.

She weeps.

 

The housewife scours the saucepan,

eases the porridge from its sides,

brushes the sticky mess into the sink.

She imagines her husband

taking the train, office-bound,

making important telephone calls,

lunching with partners Lucy and George

in that Italian bistro, discussing deals,

drinking white wine, laughing, living.

She weeps.

 

                                                                               *

With very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

 

                                                                              *

Catherine, Your Royal Highness

 Dear Reader,

I didn't know that I was going to cry when I heard about Catherine's cancer. But I did.  It is just so awful.  How unfair it is that someone so good, so brave, could be struck down with this ghastly disease.  I always thought that the expression 'unfair' was ridiculous. Of course things are unfair from the day you are born. And the Royal family has had much unfairness in the last two months.  I have had cancer twice, one breast cancer and the other lung cancer and have survived which I'm certain Catherine will do after treatment.  

I wrote the following poem as soon as I heard the news.  It is not my best work but the best I can do in such a short time.

                                                                              *

 

Catherine,

Your Royal Highness

 

You give so much

always smiling

always having a go

cheering all who meet you

winning hearts wherever you tread

 

You are mother earth

a natural divine creation

your children marked

with royal blood

we wish you well again

and you will be

 

Catherine,

your Royal Highness

elegant, brave, beautiful

kind strong and good

We applaud, respect and love you.

God speed and may

the west wind embrace you.

 

                                                                        *

From Francis Kilvert  1872  March 24th in Radnorshire

'A snowy Palm Sunday.  Snow on the Psalms....I saw what I thought was along dazzling white and golden cloud up in the sky.  Suddenly I found that I had been gazing at the great snow slopes of the Black Mountain lit up by the setting sun and looking through the dark storm clouds.'

 

From John Ruskin  1886 March 27th in Lancashire

'Softest quiet poised clouds, calm lake in sunshine the sound of streams from hills, and the sense of peaceful power in all things.'

                                                                         *

With very best wishes, Patricia

The Mind Cupboard

                                                                                             Wasps
 

 Dear Reader,

I am a little puzzled by last week's reaction to my blog.  For instance over 2,000 hits have been recorded from Hong Kong.  Thinking about it I can only assume that it was the poem : 'The Mind Cupboard'   that attracted people, perhaps painting a picture of something they could relate to.  So I have put it on again this week so anyone who didn't read it last week will now have a chance to see it.  There is some reference to wasps in it and I thought I would learn something about them for myself and for the blog. 

Wasps play a vital role as predators controlling the number of potential pests like greenfly and many caterpillars and protecting our crops and our gardens.  But wasps are also now increasingly understood to be valuable pollinators, transferring pollen as they visit flowers to drink nectar.h

It seems that they don't live long.  Adult worker wasps can live between 12-22 days while the queen will survive for the entire year until the cold causes the colony to die off.  The common wasp is found throughout the UK in almost all habitats, including woodland and urban areas. 

Unlike a bee, which can only sting once, the European wasp can sting repeatedly.  Around one in 10 people who are stung two or more times become allergic, which means they will experience severe reactions to any subsequent stings.  Wasps can become territorial if they feel their nests are threatened or when availability of food is low but most of them are not aggressive.

                                                                                 *

From John Ruskin  March 19th 1807 in Surrey

'Desperately cold, with huge-flaked snow.  The worst of January, November and March all in one.'

From Richard Hayes  March 21st 1762 in Kent

'This day I saw a yellow butterfly.....My rooks, by the cold weather and snows, did not begin building till last Sunday (14th).'

From Gilbert White    March 21st 1775 in Hampshire

'Earthworms lie out, and copulate.'

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth   March 21st  1798 in Somerset

'We drank tea at Coleridge's.  A quiet shower of snow was in the air during more than half our walk.'w

  

                                                                                  *                                                                     

 

 

 

The Mind Cupboard

 

 

 My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

 

 

                                                                             *

With best wishes, Patricia

 

 

The Mind Cupboard

 Dear Reader,

I saw a beautiful robin yesterday in the garden and I felt overjoyed as I haven't seen one since Christmas.  He was so sweet, looking around in such a cheerful manner, his bright little eyes sparkling.   I have looked up about a robin's story and this is what I have found.

The tale goes that the robin felt Christ's agony during the Crucifixion and went to pull out a thorn from His brow.  One version says that some of Christ's blood fell upon the birds breast, while another version says that the bird was wounded, both versions agree that the robin was blessed for the act of heroism.  

Male and female robins look identical, young birds have no red breasts and are spotted with golden brown.They sing nearly all the year round and despite their pretty appearance, they are aggressively territorial and are quick to drive away intruders.  They will sing at night next to street lights.

A robin sighting may let you know that is time to let go of things that are holding you back, find inspiration in your life, find your creative side, and show it to the world.

For centuries this tiny bird has been the symbol of good luck, happiness, rebirth and sometimes even as a messenger for lost love ones.  Robins defend their territory all the year round for breeding and feeding, they will fight to the death to protect their territory from other robins.

                                                                                     *

 From Richard Hayes  March 9th  1766 in Kent

'Very pleasant sunny warm day.  My rooks for the week past have been very busy a building.  And the butterflies have turned out.  Crocuses and spring flowers appear.  I now look upon this to be the pleasantest time of the year.'

From Francis Kilvert   March 19th  in Radnorshire

'The sun was almost overpowering.  Heavy black clouds drove up and rolled round the sky without veiling the hot sunshine, black clouds with white edges they were, looking suspiciously like thunder clouds.  Against these black clouds the sunshine showed the faint delicate green and pink of the trees thickening with bursting buds.'

                                                                             *

 

 

 

 

The Mind Cupboard

 

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

                                                                                *

 

 

With very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

Friendship

                                                                                        Spring Gardens
 

 

Dear reader,

I was thinking about friendship this week.  When I went to live in Oxford in the early eighties, divorced, and living on my own I became friends with Katie Fforde, the well known novelist.  We met at a Writers Week for those of us who wanted to become writers.  It was residential and I shared a room with Katie. Obviously we talked about our ambitions and our life and from then on she was a good friend to me.

She told me she was going to be a writer of novels, that stories poured into her head and that is what she wanted to do with her life, write them down. Incidentally Katie was married with three children and a devoted and loving husband.  I was trying my hand at poetry and since then I think I could say that I am a poet certainly not a novelist although I have written an autobiography:   "Half a Pair of People".   Do try it if you want something to laugh at in this rather miserable time of year. It is on Amazon.

Over the ensuing years Katie did indeed become a well known novelist and sadly I lost touch with her, got married again and lived a rather reclusive life.  But I spent a few weeks in hospital during 2019 and sent out for a few of her books to read.  Her books are so delightful and I knew they would cheer me up.  Well two weeks ago I saw she had written another novel and I sent for it.  It was just as joyful as all the others I have read.  

So I found her name on the internet and wrote to her.  We have been emailing each other ever since, there is so much to reminisce about especially to tell her how much I loved her mother, Barbara. It has been a wonderful experience  finding her again and would urge anyone reading this who has lost touch with an old friend to try and make contact.  Lots of memories come up that you thought you had lost and can now share with the friend which is interesting and lots of fun.  The old saying that there is nothing like old friends is so true, so true.

                                                                             *

From Gilbert White  1783 March 8th, in Hampshire

The crocuses make a gaudy appearance, and bees gather on them.  The air is soft.  Violets blow.  snow lies under hedges.   Men plow.

From D.H.Lawrence  1916 March 9th in Cornwall

This morning, the world was white with snow. This evening the sunset is yellow, the birds are whistling, the gorse bushed are bristling with little winged suns....The new incoming days seem most wonderful, uncreated.

                                                                             *

Friendship renewed

 

And there she was

my friend of many years ago

a little changed perhaps

did I see a white hair

but it was her alright

the same sweet smile

the elegant clothes

the suede boots

 

we spoke

 

tears overtook me

we had aged of course

but our friendship revived

my heart overflowing with

such an intense feeling

of long-lost love

long-lost affection

truly

a feeling like no other for

a precious friendship

 

                                                                            *

 

With very best wishes, Patricia