Old Long Since (Auld Lang Syne)

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old times since ?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup!
And surely I’ll buy mine!
And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give us a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne,
my dear,for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

Rick Stein

The Machinist and I have decided that our favourite chef would have to be Rick Stein. His views on food and family are unsurpassed.

I love the way he describes the food he is fortunate enough to sample as he travels. Chestnut flour, water, herbs and olive oil, mixed by hand for over half an hour is described as having "... a flavour like the middle of a pine forrest...". His mantra is fresh food simply cooked.

Rick's philosophy is that "... cooking and eating together are generous activities, which should be taken seriously, but should also resound with joy..."

And the memories of the places he has travelled, the people he has met are kept and stored, just like food is kept in preserving jars - to savour well past their prime

Click here for Rick Stein's website

Genealogy and Thunderstorms

More genealogy research today. Much more. More finds. More contacts. My wish is to create a family tree for my dad - Grandpa. It's the little things he mentions that have actually resulted in different leads. Sometimes, like a rabbit warren. Sometimes, with great promise. I've learned that you just can't rush these things.

And what a better day to go back in time, than one with skies full of thunderstorms and the deafening sound of rain - heavy rain - on a tin roof. Oh, and the company of two dogs. Two spoiled dogs that were constantly underfoot, in case the lightening should strike them. They seem to sense thunder and lightning before it happens. Bob gets a wistful look in his eye, and Polly starts to pant...

There was no chance, then, for these two furry friends accompanying us by moving from the warmth and comfort of the old schoolroom, where they can often be found under the desk, when the Machinist called us to help sweep out excess storm water from the workshop floor.

Woosies!

Christmas Time Means Family

Christmas is all about family, isn't it?

Christmas cuddles between the Youngest generation. And after the festivities it was home to genealogy research and the ordering of more certificates from the UK BMD records, in hopes that one day, it will be "genes reunited" for me. Real, living family.

Looking through past notes and records, I did a whole lump of genealogy research at the same time last year.

Yes, it must definitely be the season ....

Christmas Eve

Christmas eve at the shops - just me and the Machinist with the Grands. Firstly, though, scrumptious fare at The Roses cafe, where they make hand-shaped pies with voluptuous fillings.

And while we shop, amidst the lights, and glass and glitter - the Young Adults are preparing Christmas Eve dinner: ham (with a bone in it) smothered in orange marmalade, mash, baked yams, green beans. Followed by cinnamon rolls (Norwegian) with a selection of gluten free, for those of us who are the celiac maniacs.

How I love Christmas!

Diet? What Diet?

I had searched my baking books for a chocolate cake with a difference. Nothing too lengthy, but distinctively different and most importantly, moist. Then I came across this "how to" video from the dependable Nigella. I had no sour cream, and so substituted with pouring cream. The result was.... memorable.


Firstly, though, I made a couple of coconut cream pies, with whisked eggs, cream and dessicated coconut, topped with toasted coconut:

Then, while the oven was still warm, in went the chocolate cake. I used one pan and had to cut the cake. See the steam? I had to wait until the sponge was cool before dousing it with the chocolate icing:

Finally, the chocolate cream icing, also made with cream. Mmmmm.... it's always wise to make a little more than needed, to leave some for the licking bowl.

Hands

"Does our heart, our nature, move us to use our hands to help others in need, in sickness, to make the lot of others brighter, to help make lighter the heavy burden which others bear? Have we clean hands in that sense?"

"If we see that something is necessary, do we go out of our way to do it? If we are asked to do something, are we dependable? Can we do those things quietly, without attracting undue notice?"

GERTRUDE B GOTTS

The Southern Highlands

A day trip to the Southern Highlands:

The Pedlars and Gypsies of England

I always thought a Pedlar was the same as a Gypsy, but they are not. A Gypsy is often a Pedlar, but a Pedlar isn't always a Gypsy.

Gypsies and Pedlars weren't welcome in many districts of England in the early sixties. In our small Midlands village, some locals would chase them away, or call the police, often thinking of them as trouble makers. Mam always made them welcome, though, and often bought their wares when she could afford to. On one occasion, a newsreporter interviewed my mam and asked her opinion on the Gypsys who were camping nearby (actually, in the fields at the back of our house. You could see them clearly if you climbed right to the top of the tallest cherry tree in our garden). The good rap my mam gave them, obviously helped to save them from eviction, because I'm told that they eventually moved on of their own accord...

Mam knows this poem, word for word, and learned it when she was around 8 years old at school in England. She has often recited this poem to us:

THE PEDLAR'S CARAVAN

I wish I ived in a caravan
With a horse to drive, like a pedlar-man
Where he comes from nobody knows,
Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows too,
And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;
He has a wife, with a baby brown,
And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!
He clashes the basins like a bell;
Tea-trays, baskets, neat and trim;
Plates, with alphabets round the rim!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,
But his house is like a bathing-machine;
The world is round, and he can ride,
rumble and slash, to the other side!

With the pedlar-man I would like to roam,
And write a book when I came home;
All the people would read my book
Just like the Travels of Captain Cook!

WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

A Day in the Life of the Machinist's Wife

MONDAY - 15TH DECEMBER 2008

Wake and have tea with the Machinist.

Put smalls in dryer, larger clothes on the washing line.

Pull some weeds on the way to the washing line.

Stroke the kitties, who are lying on their backs, rolling around and waiting for fuss.

Pull more weeds. End up pulling piles and piles of weeds and leaving them next to the washing line post.

Greet Grandpa through the rose arbour.

Make coffee and chat a while with Grandpa, then see him on his way home.

Go to the office. Sort paperwork. File. Pay bills on line. Update accounting system, save work, exit accounting system.

Make lunch and call the family in to have lunch.

Greet Granny. Sit and reminisce with Granny. Take Granny on a garden tour, cut some flowers and then take her home.

While at the shop / Grands cottage, discuss plans for the gallery and admire the work that the Young Adults have completed; sanded windows, jack-hammered floor.

Return home. Wash dishes, prepare dinner.

Fetch washing in off the line, fold and leave on the kitchen table, awaiting owner collection.

Dish up food, eat, stack dishes. Let the Young Adults off the hook for kitchen cleanup.

Retire to the lounge. Chat with the Machinist a while.

Go online to source gifts.

Achievement satisfaction rating: 36%

Note to self: Tomorrow is another day. Perhaps it will be less dis-jointed and more productive.

Pumpkin Fever

Our small village is revving up for the start of the annual Pumpkin Festival. Today, we hosted the launch of the Collector Village Pumpkin Festival 2009. My daughters are the coordinators for the Pumpkin Ball, and I am coordinating the stall holders. For the next six months, local residents can expect to see lots of orange...and green.... in many forms.

The pumpkin website is http://www.pumpkinfestival.com.au/

Ah, pumpkin fever..... Gotta love those pies!