A Thought.....

How much do we ever really know somebody? I always thought that I knew all there was to know about Big Man and his family. If not all, then after nearly 30 years together just about anything of interest worth knowing. He isn't always the most straightforward of people, but then at other times he is right down the middle, no messing and all business.
This evening we were watching a report on our local news about a motorcycle rally in Margate when Big Man turned to me and said 'Patsy and Nanny (his dad and late mum) used to ride a Norton motorbike y'know'. 'No, I didn't know that' says I. 'Did she go in a sidecar?' 'No, just on the back'.
I digested this for a bit then he said 'Patsy was a pillion passenger in a motorbike accident when the driver was killed'.
'O my God!' I said. 'What happened? Was he hurt?'. I am highly interested in tales of others' misfortunes, as you know.
'Mmmm...don't know.' He carried on watching the weather report. After a minute he said thoughtfully 'I think he broke his arm'.
At times like this he is at his most 'Dave-from-the Royle-Family'-like.

I thought of all the times since I've known him that we have talked about motorbikes (quite a few considering we don't have one and don't know anyone who has one) and he has never mentioned Patsy's near-death experiences. We often talk about those in this family - one or the other of us seem to have them on a weekly basis; my very worse one was when I had a terrible panic attack alone in Sainsbury's car park, ended up wetting myself and had to get the children to help me from the car, weeping copiously (me, not them - they're used to me) after I had called them on my mobile from the driveway. But back to the motorbike story. Big Man has never once told me about that accident...what's more annoying in a way is that he piqued my interest and then didn't know anything. Let's face it, I can hardly say to Patsy the next time I see him 'tell all about your motorbike accident!'. I am nothing if not tactful.

Finding out about this hitherto-unknown motorbiking past does explain one facet of my MIL's character. Her favourite songs were always those that ended up with someone being killed, usually on....a motorbike! Leader of the Pack by the Shangri-La's (look out, look out, look out, LOOK OUT!!!!); Terry by Twinkle (please wait at the gates of heaven for me, Teee-rrryyyyy); Tell Laura I Love Her by Ricky Valance (tell Laura not to cry, my love for her will never die!); Teen Angel by Mark Dinning (I'll never kiss your lips again, they buried you today) and Ebony Eyes by the Everly Brothers ("Would those having relatives or friends on flight number 1203 please report to the chapel across the street at once"). Okay, okay, they're not ALL motorbike-related but you could see the way her mind was working. In fact her most favoured of all songs were the execrable 'Seasons In The Sun' and 'Honey'. Bless.

What I've learned today though is that although you can never really know somebody, no matter how long you're with them, when you do find a little something out it can shed a light on other things too.

Garden Chaos

Firstly, thanks to my lovely blogging pals for your kind words and support re Mr Charming. I think he would curl up and die if he knew I'd said anything to anyone but but that's what mums do, right? And their pals, real or virtual help them out, so thanks again. The latest is he has already approached a nearby uni about transferring (eek, the one time in his life he doesn't procrastinate and it's something I don't want him to do!!) and they've said to wait until about May. Red says it's just as well he didn't know he could apply to transfer after just one term or he'd be home now. She is going to speak to him and I know Babcia will. I'll keep you informed.

This is my garden at the moment. JUST KIDDING!!! This is my garden.

The courtyard at the side of the house, where cars can, in theory, be parked securely. The pile of stuff near the gates is for a fire (all three of the men in my household are pyromaniacs).

Pretty awful I think you'd agree. Although I like the idea of having a beautiful garden in theory, I'm not so keen on all the work that goes into it. We did make a massive effort one year and it looked pretty good - Big Man made the swing set at the end of the garden himself and Carb Addict still goes on it almost every day, whatever the weather. Big Man also spent a heap of time and money on the pond in pic 3 - he was desperate for a pond and eventually dug one; bought all the equipment, including an expensive pump, and eventually had about 12 koi and other fish in there that he absolutely cherished. One day the pump stopped working and Big Man decided that the pond had to be drained, so he put the fish into a big plastic crate, all together (I bet you can almost guess what's coming). The crate was too small and to cut a long story short, all but two of the fish died. Cue much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth. So he totally lost interest, hence the sad excuse for a pond you see now. I think I might have to do something about it myself, come the warmer weather.
Some people, like my lovely mum Babcia, have a green thumb. I do not. Babcia has a kind of cottage garden where she has raised little bushes and twigs she bought for a pound at the car boot sale, into giant trees and shrubs. But she puts a lot of time and effort into her garden. I think that's the secret. My in-laws Babs and Patsy also have a beautiful garden (including a pond, btw!).

Maybe it's a getting older thing? Not so long I would have curled my lip at the thought of such a crashingly boring idea as gardening. Now I think how very relaxing it would be to sit out in the sun on a lounger with a cool glass of something. Is it the impossible dream? I don't think so. I am resolving to try and beat my garden into some sort of shape this Spring - watch this space!!!

Telling Porkies

I had been planning to blog about Toad in the Hole tonight but that will have to wait until I have a new charger for my camera. Instead, after reading a very interesting article in the paper today I thought I'd write about something that really irks me (yes, something else). Water in bacon.

Normally I'm no foodie - to me an egg is an egg; a chicken is a chicken and bread is bread. Unless it's Tesco Value bread in which case it's dampish bog roll. But one thing I am quite discerning about is bacon. Me and Big Man love a bacon and Stilton bagel for Sunday brunch, which is okay because I grill it. But when I'm making a Bacon and Egg Flan and 'brown' (ha ha, as if!) the bacon in a frying pan first I end up almost boiling it in all the water that comes out. What's all that about? I have a couple of cookery books that I use that have recipes from WWII - 'We'll Eat Again'; 'Post War Kitchen'; and 'The Victory Cook Book'. They quite often tell you to fry some bacon and use the fat that comes out of it to fry other stuff in. You couldn't do that nowadays.

So this article, based on Which? findings, was about the amount of water that different stores pump into the bacon that they sell. It said that when the amount is over a certain percentage it should, by law, be listed as an ingredient. In the list given in the paper, Morrisons had both the highest AND the lowest % of added water - their Sizzlers Rindless Unsmoked Back had 13% (!!!!) but their Value Rindless Back only had 3%. Waitrose had the second highest - Essential Unsmoked British Back had 12%. Lidl had the second lowest - their Medalisk has 5% water.
Now, maybe the paper only printed the most extreme examples but it bears out something I discovered last time I made a Bacon and Egg Flan. I had gone to Morrisons with Big Man because he wanted to try some wine his dad Patsy had recommended and I bought some own-brand value bacon ends, just to show willing. You know, the cooking bacon mis-shapes? Well, it was the most delicious bacon I've had in years...thick chunky pieces; not slimy at all like a lot of bacon - quite a dry feel; and when I fried it off, no water came out at all. That was maybe 500g for just over £1. Bargain. I've still got half of it in the freezer, that I am guarding like a miser. All the time I've bought expensive bacon and been disappointed when I could have been spending a pittance at Morrisons and snarfing down delicious non-watery pig. I've been a fool!!!