Oi told Goiles it were moi turn at this here computer. Now oi'm ere oi'm not quite sure what to tell 'ee. Goiles rattles on about them liddle maids of his, what used to be and he was bletherskiting all about our trip abroad so oi as to write summat of moi own see!
Roight, oi will tell ee ow to make an apple and blackberry pie. Oi was plannin on steak and kidney one of Gioles's favorites but oi got thinkin about you lot what eats vegetables and thought ee moight be put off loik, so ere goes!
Pick some brambles from the edgerows enough to fill a pail.Eat as many as you loike oi always does! Whoile picking of course, not out your pail, that would be daft!
Peel a poile of bramley apples to match your brambles. Mix em together with a fair bit of sugar. Put em in a basin an top it with a good bit of rough puff pastry and bang her in an ot oven.After a bit turn the eat down so's the pastry don't burn and the fruits get to know each other. When it smells sentimental loik aul er out and eat while warm with a good dollop of clotted cream.
Oi opes you loikes it. Let me know. Oi has all sorts of things to write about but oi isn't wasting moi time with ee if you can't be bothered to read it.
Mother
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Poor Pippa
Poor Pippa
Pippity pip
Fell down the stairs
Trippity trip
Ripped her nickers
Rippity rip
Started to cry
Drippity drip
Poor Pippa
Pippity pip.
I was thinking of Kate Middleton's sister and I remembered this.
Pippity pip
Fell down the stairs
Trippity trip
Ripped her nickers
Rippity rip
Started to cry
Drippity drip
Poor Pippa
Pippity pip.
I was thinking of Kate Middleton's sister and I remembered this.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Rumi Says...
This human being is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of it's furniture,
still treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of it's furniture,
still treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Ugthorpe Lodge
We were having a midnight adventure one late October evening on the Yorkshire moors enroute to Whitby when it all went horribly wrong.We had planned a weekend getaway to pretty little Whitby a scenic two hour's drive from Sunderland. Anne and I had been all packed and ready to roll for hours. My Dad had been delayed at work so we were setting off at sunset rather than late afternoon.
Never mind we were off!This is England mind and a beautiful day can change it's mind quick as a wink. Which it did. We had just got up to the Dales and were heading south to Yorkshire when the rain started.It was relentless. My Dad was peering through the windshield at what I don't know as there was nothing there. Maybe he was worried about sheep but any sheep with half a brain(which is what sheep have) would have legged it for the croft.
We were battling our way through the storm when the car conked out. English cars don't like rain. Makes you wonder doesn't it?There we were high on the moors, dark as the inside of your hat, in a conked car.
However there was a light in the distance so someone probably Dad( I don't remember) went out in the deluge to look for help. Help came back with a Land Rover and in we squashed and there we were at Ugthorpe Lodge. I'm not making this up! Emily Bronte had been for a visit a while back and had sat down and dashed off Wuthering Heights aka Ugthorpe.
It was dark , stony and perishing cold. We were poked in a sitting room whose only light came from a tree trunk smouldering away in a fireplace that could have roasted an ox.We ate ham sandwiches and played twenty questions that poor Anne kept losing.When we were finally tired enough to give up trying to get warm we were led up to bed with candles!!! They said the power was out. Hmmm....The bedrooms were as cold as you can imagine but we were young so after a lot of shivering we went to sleep.
Next morning after a breakfast of everything you could wish for fried,( they will fry pizza for you in Yorkshire. True!) we went outside to see our car that had been towed and was being examined by someone whose English was a bit tough to understand. A Yorkshireman.
It was a beautiful calm, cool, morning with little puffy clouds that looked like the little puffy sheep that were milling about.We stood there for ages.We were scared to go back in to see where we had been in daylight. It looked bad enough from the outside.
The little green Anglia was given the kiss of life and coughed a couple of times and in we piled.I don't think my Dad took his foot off the gas the whole way into Whitby which we reached in record time.
I have a drawing I made of us standing around the car that morning but even if I knew where that old sketch book is I don't know how to put it in the blog. Sorry you will just have to see it all with words.
Never mind we were off!This is England mind and a beautiful day can change it's mind quick as a wink. Which it did. We had just got up to the Dales and were heading south to Yorkshire when the rain started.It was relentless. My Dad was peering through the windshield at what I don't know as there was nothing there. Maybe he was worried about sheep but any sheep with half a brain(which is what sheep have) would have legged it for the croft.
We were battling our way through the storm when the car conked out. English cars don't like rain. Makes you wonder doesn't it?There we were high on the moors, dark as the inside of your hat, in a conked car.
However there was a light in the distance so someone probably Dad( I don't remember) went out in the deluge to look for help. Help came back with a Land Rover and in we squashed and there we were at Ugthorpe Lodge. I'm not making this up! Emily Bronte had been for a visit a while back and had sat down and dashed off Wuthering Heights aka Ugthorpe.
It was dark , stony and perishing cold. We were poked in a sitting room whose only light came from a tree trunk smouldering away in a fireplace that could have roasted an ox.We ate ham sandwiches and played twenty questions that poor Anne kept losing.When we were finally tired enough to give up trying to get warm we were led up to bed with candles!!! They said the power was out. Hmmm....The bedrooms were as cold as you can imagine but we were young so after a lot of shivering we went to sleep.
Next morning after a breakfast of everything you could wish for fried,( they will fry pizza for you in Yorkshire. True!) we went outside to see our car that had been towed and was being examined by someone whose English was a bit tough to understand. A Yorkshireman.
It was a beautiful calm, cool, morning with little puffy clouds that looked like the little puffy sheep that were milling about.We stood there for ages.We were scared to go back in to see where we had been in daylight. It looked bad enough from the outside.
The little green Anglia was given the kiss of life and coughed a couple of times and in we piled.I don't think my Dad took his foot off the gas the whole way into Whitby which we reached in record time.
I have a drawing I made of us standing around the car that morning but even if I knew where that old sketch book is I don't know how to put it in the blog. Sorry you will just have to see it all with words.
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