Thursday 29 September 2016

The Manner/Manor To Which We Become Accustomed

When I was little, (I'm not especially tall now), I aspired to being a good wife to the husband my parents would find me, become independent of them, have a really lovely house, and around five children. It was the typical dream for Indian females of my era. I believe, for many it still is their future, even those achieving excellence in academia.

Arriving in England, having no extended family, even though I wasn't cognisant of it, my mindset was changing. Starting infant school I was fortunate to be 'adopted' by a couple of older girls who lived a few hundred yards from me. As I learned English, I read. The more I read, the more I knew I wasn't like the other Asian children.

Anyway, I grew up. I married. I disappointed my parents. And got on with my very strange life; a mix of British and Asian. English is my first language and Punjabi my second. With my feet firmly planted in two cultures, I feel very privileged.

My last house was big, with an even bigger garden. The house that I've moved into a few months ago is less than half its size. I haven't been able to call it home; not yet.

There's a lot of work going on here. Some I can do myself and have been doing, but the larger projects are paid for others to do. The bathroom is very oddly shaped. Tiny too.  It had to be plastered and tiled and a new suite put in. Had my dad still been alive, it would have been fun trying to do it with his help.

However I did peel off wallpaper and ceiling stuff and used a hammer and chisel thingy to get the cupboard that used to house the immersion tank, out.

Hopefully by Saturday, the roof will be on the extension and the rain not washing the floor tiles, and then by the end of next week...

The very important thing is that I like the workmen that are doing the work. I know I'm qualified as a communicator but I'm also very easy to get on with. But just like life, love and friendships, it is a two-way street.

I'm going to be happy when the work is over and the guys are all gone, however, when the work is done and the house finished, I'm going to miss them all.

Wednesday 14 September 2016

All I Want Is Cake

Birthday time.

Last year, same as the last few, I asked for gift ideas. The reply was a reasonable sort of all I want is a cake...

It's never quite as simple as that.

After hours had been spent researching favourites on-line, such as music, films and fashion, I decided that for this 21st birthday, it had to be more than just memory building. So it had to be all three. Preferably homemade.

Aladdin is the film for my little princess. So it would have to be Jasmin's palace. There's a lot of information out there. Did I have grief in planning etc? Well, imagine giving birth :). I remember nothing.

She wanted a chocolate cake because she hates icing coated cakes. So my usual covering and decorating with fondant was out.

I made two cakes; a palace needs size and height. A Madeira (it's firmer) for the base because it had a lot of weight to hold and for the top, my normal sponge that I knew everybody loved.

During the decorating I encountered the usual sort of problems to deal with, such as leveling.  Otherwise everything proceeded smoothly until I tried making the pillars. Neither the sponge or the Madeira wanted to be manipulated.  They had to be small, yet big enough to hold the (chocolate-coated xmas baubles) minarets. I tried baking in egg cups but they refused to come out. Shaving bits off? Nope, the stuff crumbled. 

Becoming frustrated I admitted defeat and decided to make do with the most reasonable ones. As I spread the chocolate ganache, I may have eaten a bit here and there. Towards the end I used tooth picks etc to not only position but also hold the pillars up. 

From start to finish, including taking the cake down to London, took around four days. Disclaimer; my memory isn't brilliant so it could have been more.

The fun part was eating the left over carpet. While I'd like to say I made the figurines, I reckon the truth would out.

Those of you who know me, know that I'm a great exponent of the old ways. Cards made by hand, clicking those knitting needles, looping and twisting cottons and wool with one hook etc.  Things that use up time, to me are very meaningful. After all, what is the most valuable thing you can give anybody? It shows that you care.

It was worth spending weeks on this cardigan for her. I can only crochet but am hoping to learn to knit. The look on her face said it all. Plus the gratifying 'you made this?' And 'Will you make one for...?' from others was rather reassuring.

We took her to see The Lion King and she loved it. I enjoyed it. She wants to see it again this year. I don't. Hm...

It's just a matter of weeks before birthday time and I have no clue on what to do!




Thursday 1 September 2016

Am I Early?

Come on...this is me and the likelihood of my blogging early is like...well, like knowing I've been misbehaving and still believing Father Christmas is going to leave me a fantastic present.

'What was that you said?  He doesn't - surely not!' (I'm being very careful not to overdo the exclamation marks. Apparently women and children do. Yes, I know what my gender is, but I actually find that spotting one per page is more than enough).

The work on the house is progressing. Yippee. That could be misconstrued but I'm not being sarcastic. And, even better, a few weeks back I even managed to upload Vicious Vignettes, my ninth book.

'Yes siree, it feels mighty fine to me.'

I started work on it many moons ago when wondering whether anyone would ever come along to buy my house. Originally a collection of flash fiction, it was going to be the sequel to She Dreamed Of Flash Fiction, with every story only 200 words. However, somehow, as I edited some of them started to rhyme. This was a tad baffling. I've always cringed at the thought of writing poetry and whenever I did, I kept my head down and mumbled as I read it aloud. The other side of the coin is that I love reading it, often the same ones over and over. But writing?

'Nope...not me, gov'nor.'

In this anthology, being mean about life, people etc wasn't what the intention was. It just happened, leaving me with no choice other than to change the book's cover and the title.

'Anyways...hope someone out there will like them.'

I am going to stop now because my tub of delicious jalapeno houmous is empty. So it's bye for now.