'pologies and soup

I've realised, I've been rather remiss in posting recently: My last post was over a fortnight ago. And I have also realised that I have missed it a little. So thats the apologies bit of the title. As for the soup bit...

I have come to the realisation that our oven needs replacing. Badly. Most of my flatmates have gone home this weekend, leaving me and one other to cook for two. Yes. Of course. And it is doable. I used to do it all the time when it was just me and my father. Apparently now I can't.

We decided that on Friday night we would do a chicken and lentil hotpot, and that it would be nice. So we did all the prep, put in maybe a FEW more lentils than we were meant to and put it in the oven for the half hour it said to. We took it out and the vegetables weren't cooked. you needed a hard surface under them to even get the fork to consider stabbing it. so we put it in again for another half an hour, looking at each other, nodding and saying yep. defenatly need to precook the veg next time. And the lentils. Even if it doesn't say to. Half an hour later again, and we took it out. the veg was a little more squishy, but the lentils were crunchy, and lentils are not meant to be crunchy.

So we sat down and tried to eat it. The chicken was nice. And cooked as well. the rest got sent back to the pot, and the pot got put on the hob and cooked. And it looked so much like soup that well, it became soup. Unfortunately, we had to keep adding stock to the lentils could cook, so from a meal that was big for two people, we had something big enough for eleven. Literally. Eleven big bowls of soup we had. A few emergency phonecalls later, and we ate most of it. (by the way, thanks for coming round) But there is still some left in the fridge. so yesterday, we invaded the flat next door. The fish came out all right. They have a shiny new oven. Here's hoping one arrives for us.

But seriously, what really took the biscuit was that we put some pease pudding in as well. An hour it should of taken. Lucky we forgot about it. Over four hours later, and it was only just done.

Sorry about the griping. It is actually fairly amusing now I think on it. At least the kitchen is clean.

Remembering Sunday

This last Sunday was Remembrance Sunday. When you were little did you turn on the telly hoping for the cartoons, and catch the parade? All those people, in uniforms. So many in wheelchairs or using sticks and crutches. So many old people in uniform. And they all look proud to be there. Proud, and somehow guilty. And the woman, whose medals were always on the other side of the chest to most of the men.

Now I'm older I realise that parades like that, they are proud to be there. Proud and happy that they are being remembered. And even more that the people who can't be there were being remembered. And thats where the guilty comes in as well. The fact that they are there and their friends weren't. Why were they spared? in some cases, some may well be thinking why wasn't I? And the woman, and the sons, with the medals on the other side of their chest, walking in a dead man's shoes. They shouldn't be there. their husbands, fathers brothers. They should be there.

But they aren't. They are the folk who were buried with all honours. Or those who have a cross because there wasn't enough bits to find to bury "missing presumed dead".

"And their words echo back from the graveyards of Flanders, singing old Jack Judge's song."

And now it has come back into the spotlight. War I mean. Irak, and now Afghanistan. As the adverts say, every day is remembrance day for some families. This has always been the case, but now it is more noticeable perhaps. because now it is our generation who are dying, and being remembered. There are now so many more people who buy a poppy, and actually stop and think about what it means, what it represents.

When we were kids, poppy day, remembrance day was history. part of that rich tapestry that so many people don't understand, and in some cases actively resent. People forget that their grandparents were once twenty, thirty years old. That they served in the war. The males in my father's side of the family have a history of military service. But my grandmother and her sisters - they helped as well. Land girls, Plotters under the hills of Portsmouth, Ambulance drivers. they all did their part for their country, and did it proudly. They wanted desperately to help any way they could. And their parents, they had been through it all once before, in the first world war. Our parents had the troubles. The IRA, Ireland. "In a station, in a city, a British soldier stood" According to my father Harvey Andrews captured Ireland during the troubles in that song. He said that the first time he had made pretty much anyone listen to it the first time, it moved them to tears.

We don't have that. We don't have the experiences of our parents, our grandparents. And we can't imagine what it must be like. And deep inside, whilst I rage against our shallowness sometimes I'm glad that we probably never will. Because I'm not entirely sure how I would cope, how I would stand up to the legacy that that parade has left for all of us. So I will wear my poppy and try to understand what it must really be like for the people who were there.

Sausages

I do apologise. I had meant to post this in national sausage week. Last week in fact. but I managed to click save as draft rather than post. In my defense (is that s? I thought it was C.) I was rather tired at the time. so here it is. A week late but the 10 20 to sausageland has now arrived...

Have you had your sausages today? For today is national sausage week. Yes. show your support for sausages. Go out! Buy some! And eat them!

We have a lot of very strange festivals out there. Like Bonfire night. As was pointed out by a friend from Denmark today, we are basically celebrating a terrorist. although it is more, now I think of it about the fact that he failed at being a terrorist. And cheese rolling. thats odd. fun, but odd. And then there are the truly fringe ones, like international toilet day. And Welly boot week. now that one is odd. If I remember rightly, it's held in summer...

But truly. What a way to show your support for something you like. I like it therefore I shall eat it. What would happen if we approached everything we liked like that? What would life be like? What about if you had a passion for toxicology? And what about Mothering Sunday? Our mothers wouldn't last past our first birthday. We would all, excepting twins and some very fortunate circumstances be single children. And then, well, where would it end? Father's day? Birthdays? Barring the fact there wold be no humans in short order, we would be eligible as a species for a Darwin Award, I recon one of two things would happen:
1. We would all become Jehovah's Witnesses. Why? No birthdays. Therefore we would have more of a chance for survival.
2. The world would be a very different place.

Well, yes. Of course this last is true. But I think that polygamy would become commonplace. Well, that would make the Mormons happy. Except they wouldn't be Mormons. Or at least, a strange mixture of Mormonism and Jehovah's Witnesses would take over.

But some good would come of it: STIs would be a lot less common. Because, lets face it, girls would be a LOT more careful about things. Kids wouldn't be spoilt rotten, no mothers would mean they would have to do a lot more around the house. And, I suspect that there would be a lot more teachers; people who wanted children but didn't want to die. Also, The world wouldn't get overcrowded because cannibalism would be in full force. One born, one dies. More men than girls then.

This all sound like an horrific world. Not entirely sure it is one I would want to live in.

Remember: A sausage is for life. not just for national sausage week.

But don't let them go mouldy. That's just a waste.