Damsel in distress (...or; Operation Extraction)

Monday was not a good day. It started off well enough. A trip to the pet shop for cat food, some productive housework, but it went down hill rapidly from there.

First, I put my back out. I have no idea how I did it, but I have a feeling it was whilst reaching for something on a high shelf and simultaneously trying to turn round to find out what antics Gatto was up to. All I know is that suddenly whilst moving round the house things were difficult and painful. Sitting was okay, standing was okay, but anything between the two pretty excruciating. Not good.

But I decided to soldier on, there was washing to be done, and hung, and it was a glorious day. It seemed a shame to waste it.
WRONG! What followed were an unfortunate and hilarious series of events.

I unloaded the washing machine, looked at the sunshine and decided to hang the washing out in the garden. Taking advantage of what might be the last bit of autumnal sunshine of the year.
In order to hang out the washing, I needed to shut Gatto somewhere in the house so that he couldn't make a break for freedom (he's still too little to be outside). Normally I would just shut him in the living room, but for some unknown reason I decided to shut the dining room door instead, giving him the run of the upstairs as well. Rookie error!

So I shut the door. Properly shut it rather than just pushing too. The doors in our house, like the house itself, are old, and stick in their frames. Normally this would be enough to hold a little kitten at bay, but for some reason I got it into my head that the wind might manage to dislodge the door, and Gatto would escape, we'd never find him and I'd be inconsolable. So I pushed the door into the frame, made sure it shut properly and pottered out into the garden with the washing and a smile, knowing that Gatto was safely running about the house with the commonwealth games for company while I enjoyed a bit of fresh air and sunshine.

And all was well. For about twenty minutes, until I came back into the house and discovered that I couldn't get the door open. Nothing I tried worked, force, grumbling, pushing and pulling at the door, getting hysterical with it. Nothing. It just wouldn't budge.

So I looked around in panic. Phone and laptop in the other part of the house. Kitten in other part of the house probably panicking (yeah. right.) and making an attempt to claw his way up the curtains to the slightly ajar window. And me, stuck in the dining room. Then I discovered that the house phone was in it's dock and N's number was (thank goodness) programmed into it. Cue a rather unusual voicemail from a woman trying to sound both sheepish and not at all hysterical. "Hi, it's me, er, could you call me...on the house phone...I have a DIY question. er, as soon as you get this? bye"

Only about five minutes passed before he returned the call, but in that five minutes I'd hammered at the door, rattled the handle, cursed the house and sat in a heap on the floor. (a very painful heap as my back was not enjoying all this sudden activity).

N phoned. I enquired, as calmly as possible, if unscrewing a door handle would allow access to the mechanism in order to spring it open. N replied yes, this might work, and why on earth was I asking such a question, and come to think of it, why was I on the house phone and not my mobile (a number he would have picked up immediately). At this point I think the hysteria really kicked in, as I remember laughing manically whilst trying to explain that I was trapped in the dining room! He asked if I had a screwdriver. Of course I didn't. All the tools were in a room upstairs and I couldn't get to them. It was okay, I'm a resourseful woman, I retorted. I'll use a blunt knife, no problem, I'd be out in mere moments, not to worry, thanks for the advice. He hung up laughing.

I unscrewed the door handle. The lock mechanism fell apart! Panic! What followed were twenty frantic minutes of me trying everything to get the door mechanism working again, using every and any possible tool I could find. (For the record, a nutcracker is a useful tool to have on hand, but won't actually help in the slightlest in this situation, all you end up with is a broken nutcracker!)

N phones back to find out why I haven't texted him with joy at my escape. To which I have to admit to the potentailly broken door handle, and my continued imprisonment. He can't stop laughing. He is laughing and I am alternately laughing and crying.

N has to come home from work in order to let me out of the dining room! I am the laughing stock of his office!

An hour and a half later I am freed from captivity by a very giggly N, who, with the aid of the tools from upstairs, is able, with my help with a pallet knife on the other side, to spring the mechanism, push the door and free his damsel in distress.

damsel |ˈdamzəl|
noun archaic or poetic/literary
a young unmarried woman.
PHRASES
damsel in distress often a humorous young woman in trouble (with the implication that the woman needs to be rescued, as by a prince in a fairy tale).
ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French dameisele, damisele, based on Latin domina ‘mistress.’

I couldn't resist the above definition. I am definitely a humorous young woman! At least I was on Monday when as N opened the door I wasn't able to rush into the arms of my prince, instead I hobbled across the dining room due to my bad back! He laughed harder, so did I and we both had a strong cup of tea before he headed out to the local locksmith to get a new door handle!

Operation Extraction was a success. We watched a western in celebration, and I have promised never to shut a door again, unless I am carrying my phone, laptop, cats and toolbox!

p.s. It goes without saying that Gatto clearly found this whole incident hilarious, especially when his dad appeared home from work in the middle of the day to play with a door. Brilliant!

10.10.10

I heard on the Today Programme this week that the tenth day of the tenth month of the tenth year is supposed to be pretty special. Numerologists, meteorologists and other such important people that deal in ology were predicting that it would be not only a very lucky day, but the last true day of the English summer.

It is of course also 42 day.

N and I decided to take advantage of what was a truly glorious day with a long lazy walk through the country lanes and fields, in search of the perfect pub lunch and pint.

One of the first things we did after moving into the area was take a trip to a large and well-stocked bookshop in search of two things: firstly, an ordinance survey map of the area, and secondly, a guide to pubs within walking distance. We lucked out as not only did we find several good maps of the area, but also a book dedicated to country walks between pubs. Could an English(w0)man ask for anything better?!

However, today we set off with simply a map and N's memory of a nice village pub about a mile and a half away.

The day was awash with sunshine. Not weak autumnal light, but the still-strong remains of summer sunshine. It made walking with a jumper on too warm, but was measured with a strong breeze to remind us that the cooler wetter weather of just a few days previously was quite soon going to become the norm.

But all of the gloom of the beginning of the week was forgotten as we ambled along shady sun-dappled lanes, until we stumbled upon this:

A pint and fish and chips, enjoyed outside in front of the pub, overlooking a local cricket pitch, that a few weeks ago was probably filled with green-knee-ed eager men in whites. Indeed the scoreboard still held the remains of a previous match.

It couldn't have been more stereotypically English, and we were loving every minute.

We had originally decided to head back home the same way, but the sunshine was too difficult to pass up, and so we strode off, with our full bellies, in an entirely different direction.

I can still hardly believe that all of this is pretty much on my doorstep. Today was definitely a very lucky day indeed.
We arrived home with aching knees (we're a bit out of practice!), five miles of new countryside explored and the feeling that if this is the last day of summer, we spent it well.

Bring on autumn

Some things that change, some things that don't.

Last night I sent a rather unusual text message to my Mum. I needed to ask how long to boil and egg for in order to produce dippy eggs and soldiers. She was stunned. And rightly so. This from the child who has never been near eggs. Who mocks those who choose to make them not only a significant, but any part of a meal. Who can only just face making her lovely boyfriend scrabbled eggs at the weekend, and often wishes she could make them with her eyes closed.

For some reason over the past few months I have been craving them! Nothing about the slimey whites interests me, but I wanted to dip my toasted, salted butter soaked pecan and cranberry bread into rich organic runny yolks.
I've changed.

Or at least I did for this morning. I had them for breakfast, and think I've got it out of my system. The yolk was fine, but those quivering whites turned my stomach. Might as well try anything once. Just once.During these days of change, while I get used to a new house that is in a place so quiet that I have been sleeping all the way through the night for the first time since I moved down south, and used to a new commute, and generally the new rhythms of life, it is reassuring to know that in the midst of it all cats will still be cats.
Yes, this is Sniff sleeping on the one place he shouldn't; a freshly finished, blocking lace shawl.

And I'm still a big softie and can't bring myself to turf him off as he looked so comfortable!

Some things will never change!

A cake for half time

Today we were going to be good. We had planned a stomp through the local fields. Some fresh life-affirming autunmal air in the lungs, and perhaps a post-walk pub lunch and pint in the belly.

But it wasn't to be. We got caught out by catching up on sleep, emergency trips to the pet shop, and then the sudden onslaught of rain.

No matter though, instead it's been an afternoon of sofa guarding, yarn winding, pattern browsing, and light pottering.

And I always believe that when the weather does this:you should do this:
The cake in the picture is Dan Lepard's Malt Whiskey Ginger Cake, that was featured in The Guardian Magazine food section yesterday. A few changes - less ground ginger (I'd run out) and so a shake of nutmeg and cinnamon, crystalised ginger not stem (I find the former much more satisfying in everything) and a lemon based icing - and we had a lovely warming cake to enjoy at half time, in between knit and purl rows.
My cake was deceivingly gooey in the middle, despite the obligatory toothpick test, but this wasn't unwelcome. We also both agreed that whilst very nice today it will be even better tomorrow when the flavours have developed.

I wish I could say we were good and enjoyed this with a cup of tea, but in this weather, it's all about the afternoon glass of red wine.

Come on, it's a Sunday!

Oh, and for those of you who have been asking about how Sniff is getting on with Gatto, I thought I'd share this moment from last week...

Tutorial for a rainy day.

 We had the most unbelievable thunderstorm here a few days ago. The bright morning sky suddenly disappeared and within moments the rain descended, and the banging and crashing started. At one point a clap of thunder went off directly overhead, so loud that it hurt my ears and set car alarms in the area off!

The cats were freaking out and so I decided that it was time to put on some music and relax with some sewing. I thought I would share this little tutorial with you to help with your sewing on rainy days.

How to sew whilst entertaining a 12 week old kitten.

You will need:

1 pattern of your choosing, and the requisite fabric, notions etc.
4-35 ping pong balls, depending on availability
2 lengths of string
1 pack of plasters
1 tube of antiseptic
Stain remover
1 teapot, mug and teabags (milk and sugar if desired.)
1 large chocolate bar

Begin by waiting until the kitten is safely asleep, then frantically lay out your pattern, cut and then pin to the fabric. If you're lucky you might manage at least five minutes of this before the kitten wakes up and realises they are missing out on all the fun.

This is where you need your ping pong balls on hand. Each time the little kitty makes a chase for the scissors, or the pins, or attempts to skid around on your carefully laid pattern, reach for your stash of ping pong balls. The trick is to distract the kitten at key moments by chucking a ball into the other room.

Keep this up for as many balls as you have. Experience denotes that you will gain about 3.6 seconds using this technique, so cut fast!

Now you've managed to cobble together the piece of the pattern it's time to begin sewing up. Here is where you need the string. You will be using this to try and keep the kitten away from the bobbin, thread, and moving fabric as you sew. This is where you will learn the essential "sewing one handed" technique, which is guaranteed to change the way you sew forever.

The final stage is when you begin to do the complicated points of the pattern, such as setting in the sleeves, or pinning the bodice to the skirt. Chances are by now you've used up all your ping pong balls, string and other diversionary tactics, so the kitten will manage to pounce on your bare foot to chew your toe, just as you are placing a pin.

This will repeat itself indefinitely no matter how firmly you scold the cat.

Finally, place antiseptic and plasters on wounded toes (from the cat) and fingers (from the pins jabbed into them as the cat feasted on your toes), place stain remover on the blood splatters on your project, and then decide it's not worth washing and place in the bin.

Retreat to the sofa with a large cup of tea and chocolate bar, just in time to watch the kitten smugly fall asleep in a pile of off cuts and pattern pieces next to the sewing machine.

I hope this has been helpful to all those out there who might consider naively sewing and kittens a nice mix on a rainy autumn day!

A fresh start

After years of adherence to the academic calendar I don't think I will ever fully shake the feeling that the start of the year comes in September, rather than January. The change in the air from sultry (okay, we're the uk...ahem...warmish) summer to crisp autumn is one of my favourite moments. It means the digging out of jumpers, the acquiring of new stationary (yes, this week I bought sharpie pens, just because I couldn't resist all the colours in the packet), the last of the tomatoes and the return to rich flavours and warm spices in cooking and baking.

The change in season and the new start couldn't have come at a more apt time this year, with a new house, new cat, new routine, and a new blog.

After an incredibly stressful summer, when the first of September rolled around and the chill hit the morning air it suddenly felt like everything had fallen into place.

We celebrated with a walk around the new area, and a pint in a new local. The perfect way to ring in the changes.

I have also managed to get four days off in a row, and so will hopefully have some nice projects to share. In the meantime I offer not a recipe, as it's not complicated enough for that, but a suggestion. Next time you make pesto, try replacing the pine nuts with cashews. I guarantee you will not be disappointed!

I hope you're all enjoying the autumnal weather, I've been very much enjoying spending my mornings slowly and surely catching up with my blog reading, so if I haven't already I will be popping past to say hello.

Goodness

I don't know where to start. Over a month has disappeared since our interwebs went down, and there are so many things that have gone on it's hard to know where to begin. Firstly, I huge thank you if you've stuck with my silence and are willing to read again, I am hoping to be a better blogger now, and a better keeper-in-toucher.

And, well, er, yes. I guess I should begin with a confession. We moved! Yep, we're no longer living it up in Our Lovely Flat(tm) in north London. At the beginning of the year, oh yes, way back in January, we decided that it was time to get away from the hustle and bustle of life in the city. Peace, quiet and space in the suburbs were beginning to call, as was the exciting prospect of owning a place of our own, one with a proper garden, and stairs, and fireplaces. It seemed to take forever, with each viewing worse than the last, nothing affordable, and morale and dreams of houses disappearing faster than the post-viewing bottle(s) of wine.

Then finally an offer was accepted on the perfect place, and after much box packing, cat calming, and tester pot choosing later, we are in, unpacked, and even online again!

Now, obviously, there is a slight problem, as I cannot be "From a North London Kitchen" if in fact I am no longer in north London. Oops! So there will be some bigger changes a-foot on the blog.

But before then I have other things to share. The new house has meant more space, and as if we didn't have enough books, jars, wool and fabric to fill it with, we decided that something was missing from our new set-up.

Meet Gatto, the newest member of the family! Don't be fooled by those large cute eyes, he's a little terrorist! He eats Sniff's food, loves to climb on anything and everything, and three days into his life with us managed to scratch me in the left eye just as I opened them in the morning! He is definitely stamping his way into our lives (and refuses to sit still for good photos!)

Finally, a week into our new life a wonderful box arrived for me. The month before I had signed up to Siri's amazing Farmer's Market Exchange. It was a mad dash to get mine posted before the deadline, and amidst all the frantic packing, but I managed to get my box off, and wondered what would appear for me. Then we moved and I forgot about it, and suddenly a letter arrived saying a parcel was ready for collection. I was so lucky to be paired with Jes. Not only is her photography absolutely stunning, but she is an incredibly generous exchanger. As I delved into her package I felt ashamed that the timing of the exchange meant I hadn't squeezed more into hers. It was a box filled with Minnesota goodness; natural harvest maple syrup, blended tea, honeys and apple rings, as well as some homemade jelly and a piece of pottery made by Jes' Dad. How amazing is that?!

Thank you so much Jes. I've already enjoyed tea in my lovely new teacup, and can't wait to try the honey on some homemade bread (still tinkering with the new oven, it's not playing ball!)

It has been a month filled with madness, and stress, but also crammed with goodness. And now, as the autumnal chill begins to lurk in the air I am looking forward to a whole new phase of things.

I really hope that you'll all stick around and join me at number ninety eight, for a whole new set of adventures. There will be cake, and jam, and tea, a bigger garden to transform, knitting projects to finish, and cats to referee. I can't wait to share it all with you, and catch up on what everyone else has been getting up to.