An amusing memory

When I was teaching sociology at the University of NSW many moons ago, I was located in the Morven Brown building, which formed one side of a grassy quadrangle in front of the library.

And the students' union would from time to time arrange pop music concerts on the library steps so people could sit on the grass of the quadrangle and enjoy the music concerned.  The music would be a lunchtime concert scheduled from 1 to 2 pm.

There were however some occasions when I was scheduled to take a tutorial at 2pm in the Morven Brown building.  And there were also some occasions when the musicians got so enthused with their music that they carried on beyond 2pm

Rock music was however not the background I wanted for my tutorials so when such enthusiasm occurred, I used to take a stroll over to the library, trace  the power cord to the band's amplifiers and then pull the plug out at the wall.  So the music suddenly went from amplified to acoustic.

The band members always looked sheepish when that occurred and  promptly wrapped up.  They probably thought it was some sort of official censure but it was in fact my sole deed.  Why should I waste time going through some bureaucratic process when direct action would do?

A traditional Sunday Lunch

Paul & Susan very kindly put on a roast pork lunch for me today.

The pork was well-cooked and there was even some crackling.  Plus gravy, plus fresh apple sauce etc.  And with rhubarb crumble to follow, who could ask for more?

Paul and I talked a little about family matters but not much.  I think Paul has had enough of that lately.

Over dessert I offered  something of a history lesson about England -- which Paul is of course much interested in.  I talked about how they used to entertain themselves in English country houses in the 19th century before the advent of computers and TV etc.  Susan knew something of that because she had read Jane Austen novels etc.

Matthew was a constant generator of noise and movement and even little Elise had a shout or two for a while.  But my history lesson survived all that.

A very pleasant Sunday afternoon.

When one is invited to a dinner or some other social occasion, it is of course customary to bring along something by way of appreciation -- flowers, a bottle of wine or something for desert etc.

In  19th century country houses, the pattern was however slightly different.  One might bring along the latest novel from Mr Disraeli or some other favoured author and would be ready to do some sort of entertainment for the house,  some sort of an entertaining performance, a new game etc.

So whilst discussing such things I also exemplified them.  History lessons are not everyone's cup of tea but  Paul and Susan were very interested in my topic so I was rather 19th century in my way of expressing my appreciation of the occasion.

St Valentine

How did an obscure Catholic saint get such a following?  It's a bit like the Japanese celebrating Christmas I guess:  It's fun, not saintly.

I participated.  When Anne arrived at my place yesterday evening she got:  Roses, card, chocolates, a dinner and a present.  It was a present I knew she would like:  A lava lamp.  I have one and she often admires it. They were fashionable in the '70s but seem to be coming back.  Just two or three years ago I could not buy one but they have popped up in a couple of shops lately.

We dined at a very good Chinese restaurant not far from my place -- the New Sing Sing. Both the food and service is always good there. We had dim sims and chicken satay skewers as starters. I had BBQ roast duck as the main course and Anne had salt and pepper fish. I have long been of the view that only the Chinese know how to do duck. And they did! I ordered Fourex Gold for a drink and greatly enjoyed it. They serve their beer very cold there and it was a hot night.

And when we got home we had clootie dumpling with cold custard for dessert and a cup of tea to wash it down.  So we turned to both China and Scotland for our food.

And Anne made porridge for my breakfast this morning  -- which is always appreciated.

Woolworths frustrations

About 50% of all Australians shop at Woolworths.  And don't knock it.  I have shares in them.

But one of the big problems is that as soon as you find something you like there, they discontinue stocking it.  Some of us get quite paranoid about that.

Anyway, I have been spoilt in the cracker biscuit dept by some crackers Von brought over for me from NZ  -- Griffin's Meal Mate crackers.  When Von brings some over they last only days.

So I thought that there has got to be something similar in Woolworths.  And, rather crazily, I found that one of their home-brand cracker offerings was pretty good.  So as soon as I tried them, I went out and stocked up on another packet.  They were called "sea salt" crackers.

And you can guess the rest.  When I went in there today, no "sea salt" crackers were to be found.  They did however have some garlic crackers and I bought those.  And they are quite good too.  If only I had some of that NZ green tomato chutney to have on them ....

More dosas

Every day is a good day for dosas so I shouted Paul and Susan dosas for lunch today.  Matthew even has his own dosa now and got right through an egg dosa.  The Dosas we get from "Riverwalk Tandoori" (which is nowhere near a river) are certainly inspiring, even though they are completely vegetarian.  We arrived at the restaurant at 11:30, at the same time that the owner did.  So we were served promptly.

We repaired to my sitting room for tea and afters with the afters consisting of some good choc-chip cookies provided by me and some fresh strawberries provided by Susan.  Every bit of both went down.

Paul brought along his Oxford Book of English Verse and I read and explained a few poems out of it  -- mostly patriotic poems which both Paul and I like.  We read "Mariners of England" and "He fell among Thieves" but also Shelley's "To a Skylark" and Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale".  They all required a bit of explanation to people who know only the language of today.

Paul at one stage asked me what Jenny and I had been talking about at our "Ronald Reagan" dinner and I replied that we had just been talking about what family members had been doing lately.  With a big smile, Susan greeted that news with "Aha!  GOSSIP"!  I think she had a win there.

Gossip however (defined as talking about people you know) is as far as I can tell universal where people relax together or have time on their hands.  Today we had our usual discussions about politics.  I mentioned to  Paul that Ken had once asked me how I classified him politically. I replied that I categorized him as a "recovering Leftist".  From what I can gather Ken has done the usual political journey from Left to Right that most people do over their lifetime

We also had a discussion about my recent blog posts on feminism. We talked about what it means to be “sexist”. For example when I refer to a woman adopting traditional female roles as being “the perfect wife”,  I am from a feminist viewpoint revealing myself as an awful bigot and am disrespecting the woman concerned. Feminists think that all women should have "careers".

Towards the end of our get-together, I introduced Paul and Susan to Bushell's coffee and chicory essence.  It is almost forgotten now but in some parts of the world it WAS coffee for many decades.  I introduced it to them as a sort of history lesson.  I still drink it myself  -- as my father did.

Matthew was at his noisy best running around my house.  It is amazing the amount of noise a small boy can create.  He had a great time anyway.  Elise was her usual silent and serious self.

Paul wanted me to announce that he had recently been from his place to Ipswich and back in his electric car without needing to stop for recharging.   It is a cute little car.

Lumen Fidei

"Lumen Fidei" (light of faith) is the first encyclical of Pope Francis, though Francis admits that it was mostly written by Benedict, his predecessor.  And in my usual eccentric way I used part of my secular Sabbath to read it.

There is no doubt we encounter the mind of a real scholar in it. He actually mentions the name of God (YHWH) as given in the Hebrew Bible -- which is bordering on the eccentric in both the Christian and Jewish traditions.  It would appear however to be what YHWH himself wanted according to Psalms 83:18 ("That men may know that thou, whose name alone is Jehovah, art the most high over all the earth" KJV) and other OT passages. That the commandment to respect YHWH's name is taken to require suppression of it is incredibly perverse and would certainly make YHWH throw up his hands if he had any hands.

And Benedict's attempt to reconcile a Septuagint rendering of Isaiah with the Masoretic version is surely heroic, given the obvious divergence.  But the fact that he refers to the Septuagint at all is impressive.  There is a view that the Septuagint  -- or at least part of it -- is based on a text older than the Masoretic version and may hence be closer to the original.

But despite such flashes of unusual scholarship, the encyclical as a whole is quite unoriginal.  Perhaps an encyclical has to be that way.  The encyclical is a very thorough survey of past and present enthusiasm about faith and that is about it.  But that may enthuse others more than it does this hard-hearted old atheist.

Ronald Wilson Reagan RIP

6th Feb. is President Reagan's birthday and I usually like to acknowledge it in some way.  Jenny and I had some family matters to discuss so I persuaded Jenny to cook us a dinner on 6th so it would be a celebration as well as a discussion.

I got to Jenny's place at 7pm and Jenny had a family favourite ready:  Egg-rolled pork. Plus Kim Chee plus Japanese ginger.  So it was a Korean dinner with all the trimmings.  Japanese ginger is exceptional.

We discussed how all the "kids" had gone and reviewed recent family events.  It was basically a knowledge-sharing exercise.  Jenny knew some things and I knew others. So now we both know more things.

So it was a very pleasant evening and an exceptional dinner.

In memoriam

As army men tend to do, I have kept in touch with someone from my old army unit.  In my case it is our former sergeant major, a fellow classical music devotee.

He rang me today with some sad news.  Two former members have died recently:  Doug Tucker and John French  -- former Captain and former Staff Sergeant.  So this is my little  memorial to them.  I have vivid memories of both of them and it is hard to accept that they no longer exist.

Now that I am 70 I get that rather often.  People whom I remember as lively and fun people are just dead.  My imagination can not really cope with it.

One consolation today was that I heard there is one very senior member of our corps who is still going.  He must be in his 90s these days.  There are still some things that I want to ask him so it is very good of him to survive for so long!

I have put online all the academic journal articles I had published in the 70s and 80s -- and in consequence I do at times get people writing to me about them.  They obviously expect that I still exist and am as compos mentis as I was when I wrote the articles concerned.  Fortunately I am.  But what if I was dead  -- as many of my contemporaries are?  What would they do then?  I have no idea.

Feminists will always be a disgruntled minority of harpies huddled in a corner moaning to one-another

Most women will acknowledge some feminist sympathies  -- equal pay for equal work etc.  But I am not talking about those women.  I am talking about the feminists you encounter at universities and writing in the papers.  They are often quite good at changing official policies (generally set by men) but their influence on the behaviour of other women is minimal.

The big and unsurmountable problem for feminists is that young women are intensely interested in young men.  They are more interested in young men than young men are interested in them.  As a result, young women tend to PANDER to young men.  There!  I've said it.  The word that sends feminists molten.  A women pandering to a man deserves the lowest depths of hell and damnation from a feminist perspective.

I am moved to those thoughts by something I saw this morning as I was having a cup of tea with Anne at the seaside (Wynnum).  It was a classical example of the pandering I just mentioned.

What was happening was that two young men  -- perhaps around age 20 -- were fishing (the tide was in) without much success.  But fishing they were and they stuck at it despite catching only the occasional tiddler.  And they had a girl with them, a rather aspirational girl of about 18, about 5'5" tall with fair skin, blue eyes and blonde hair.  And she was in great shape wearing tight short denim shorts.

So what was she doing?  She was just there for the company.  She did have her own fishing rod and cast it in a few times but mostly she just pottered around or sat in a nearby shelter watching.  She was there because the men were there and for no other reason.  They paid their fishing much more attention than they paid her but she was nonetheless in great good humor, full of smiles.  She  was happy just to be there with the men.

And that is how it goes in the teenage years.  And as the years progress it gets even worse from a feminist perspective.  Young  women enter into intimate relationships with men -- not even requiring a wedding ring first these days.  But a wedding is still the vision for most women.

So feminists are up against human nature just as much as other  Leftists before them.  Leftists once thought that they could mould  a "new Soviet man" but were thwarted by human nature.  They simply drove Soviet man to drink.   A new feminist man is just as remote.  Feminized men tend in fact to be rather despised by most women.  Most women like men to be men.  Look at all the women who "wait" for husbands and boyfriends in the armed forces who are "away" on deployment.  Such a relationship looks a very bad deal from a certain point of view.  But men in the forces tend to be real men -- and women will put up with a lot to have such a man.  Where it matters, feminism is an abject failure.

A busy few days

Last Thursday (23rd) was Anne's birthday so I took her to the New Sing Sing for Peking duck.  Peking duck is both an elaborate and expensive meal so goes well as a birthday offering.  We have eaten often at the New Sing Sing and the food has always been good.  And so it was on Thursday.  The proprietor himself expertly carved our duck and we got very attentive service throughout the meal.

Anne had a glass of wine with it and I had a stubby of Fourex Gold.  As it was a hot day, I really enjoyed that beer.  The Chinese are big beer drinkers so beer and Chinese food partner well.

And it was a big duck.  We did not quite get through it all.

I also gave Anne a present -- a tin of sweets such as I mentioned in my previous post about caketins.  So I am hoping for a fruitcake to find its way into that tin in due course.

Then yesterday (25th) was the anniversary of the birth of a wonderful poet.  I invited Paul and Susan over to share some haggis but I did not attempt to do all the Burns night customs.  I did not even get into Highland dress.  I did however read part of the Ode to a Haggis before I carved it and we sang Auld Lang Syne at the end.  Anne as usual did a great job cooking the haggis, neeps and tatties.

One thing we did was try to remember the time when I first met Paul  -- when he was 7.  He is now 37 so I have known him for 30 years.  It was shortly after Jenny and I had begun seeing one-another.  Jenny said that I had better meet her kids and I agreed.  So we drove to Camlet St and I waited in the Gemini while she went in to collect them.  Shortly, she came out with 3 little kids bobbing along  behind her.  They piled into the back seat and were totally silent for the drive to my place.  It was the first and last time that they have ever been silent.

I don't really remember what we did at my place but I would have played with the kids -- as I regularly did subsequently. Anyway the kids were favourably impressed and told Ken and Maureen so that evening when they were back at home.  Paul remembers all 3 of them waxing enthusiastic about me -- with Ken and Maureen greeting that enthusiasm with some caution.  I guess stepfathers are not supposed to be popular!

Taking orders for beer and Scotch immediately after carving the haggis

And today was Australia day so my rellies on my mother's side got together at my brother's place for our usual BBQ.  We talked a bit about Aborigines as Kym is in the Aboriginal industry.  I talked a bit to my nephew James to see how he is going.  He didn't do very well at High School but has a great interest in philosophy.  Anne  did not come along as she was doing a short bushwalk as part of her rehab after her recent knee surgery.

It was the first time I had seen sister-in-law Kym in a dress. It was a mainly red dress and she looked very good in it. She has kept a remarkably good figure for a 50-year-old lady.

My brother is in the motorbike trade so the question about how he is affected by Queensland's anti-bikie laws arose early on. He replied that he had little contact with bikie clubs these days so was minimally affected. I put it to him that the laws were really aimed at the Lebanese Muslim clubs and he confirmed that the problem clubs were Middle-Eastern. The clubs comprised of older Ockers gave nobody any problems.

Bill Glasson meets Leftist hate

I am enrolled in the electorate of Griffith, Kevin Rudd's old seat.  I used to get a nice Christmas card from Kevvy every year while he was there.  So I will be voting in the by-election caused by Kevvy's retirement.

The LNP candidate for the by-election is Dr. Bill Glasson, a most energetic campaigner and an ophthalmologist by trade.  His father, also Bill Glasson, was a minister in the long-running Bjelke-Petersen government of Queensland.  So the present Bill has name recognition.

I was sitting in my usual Buranda brunch destination about mid-morning yesterday when Bill and a campaign assistant walked in -- also seeking brunch.  The assistant was a nice-looking young lady who might have been his daughter.  She had "Vote Bill Glasson" written all over her t-shirt so she was at any event a helper.

Bill & Co. sat down beside a lady in a green dress.  The restaurant was busy so some tables were right up against one another.  Bill chose one such table.  As the lady beside him got up to leave, she launched a furious verbal assault on Bill:  Quite egregious behaviour in a restaurant.

I was too far away to hear what she was saying and I am pretty deaf anyway but a professional actor could not have done a better job of portraying rage and hate  than this woman did  -- finger pointing, tensed-up body and all other conceivable hostile body  language.  Bill just sat there.  She gave up after a few minutes and walked out.  She must have thought of more things to say, however, as she shortly thereafter came back into the restaurant and resumed her angry tirade at Bill.

It was a most remarkable assault on a man the woman did not know personally and who has never been a member of any government.  She appeared to have been blaming Bill for something some government had done but why she blamed Bill for it was  obscure.

When I had finished eating, I went over, shook Bill's hand, introduced myself as a Griffith voter and said I would be voting for him.  I then asked him what the lady had been on about.  He said it was confused but it was something about hospitals.  All Australian public hospitals are in a mess so that might be understandable.  The government that got Qld. hospitals into a mess was however the recently departed Leftist government.  So again, why blame Bill?

I then said to Bill:  "She was full of hate, wasn't she?".  He agreed.  Just his conservative political identity was enough to fire her up.

Tingalpa is where it's at!

Tingalpa has long been one of Brisbane's lowliest suburbs -- notable only as a place you pass through on your way to the seaside at Wynnum.

But a miracle has happened.  Tingalpa now hath all that the heart desires, as Dr Johnson might have said.

It started with the IGA.  The IGA is a small supermaket that is much more convenient to get around than the huge Coles and Woolworths stores.  And it seems to have lots of good things and a friendly staff.

And it all took off from there.  It now even has a Sushi train.  And that, I think, is a prime marker of being in tune with modern international civilization.  Japan has lessons for us all.

And the Chinese bakery there is marvellous -- with bread like you had forgotten was possible -- and the Indian there does a Lahori curry that beats any other curry I have tasted.  And I have eaten  curries in India (plus Sydney and London).

And the latest thing is that they now have a Mexican there ("Chidos").  Anne and I went there last night and it was very good Mexican.  And, at the risk of being boring, I have tasted Mexican in Mexico.

Plus they have a Thai etc etc.

But they do have a very strange Australian bottleshop there.  If you knock on his door a few minutes after he has closed (at 7pm!)in order to buy liquor from him, he won't open his door.  Indians  and Chinese would regard him as a very strange creature.  I do too.

I suspect that he may be Scottish.  Scots can get very rigid about their customs.  And I speak as someone who wears the kilt on occasions!  And I have been to Scotland three times.  I have even done research there.  See here.

Diet

I am probably being repetitious here but I wonder if the young people know what we oldies went through by way of diet.

For CENTURIES the British diet consided of "meat + 3 veg".  The veg were potatoes  plus cabbage and carrots or beans of you were lucky

And the meat was somethinhg hacked off a dead animal --  such as steak or if you were unlucky sausages.  And if you were REALLY unlucky it was liver.

The vegetables had s**t out of  boiled out of them and the meat was fried to death

For my hospital admissions, I always go to the Wesley  -- Brisbane's top private  hospital.  But even there it helps to be one of the people.  You get  to choose your dinner if you are there in the morning but if you are an afternoon or evening admission you get the default dinner!  And it is very ethnic:  Australian ethnic.  Something might be  done with the smashed potatoes to make them more edible but that is about the  limit.

But somehow we survived.  Rather Paleo, I guess.  And I must confess that that I can still eat such a presentation  -- though not without amusement.  I recognize that it it is good if boring food.  If you ever go into an Australian/British hospital, you had better get used to it.

Cake tins and poverty

I have always been aware that my parents were poor.  My father was a hard worker so they always managed to put sufficient food on the table and kept a good roof over our heads -- but that was about their limit.  They rarely saved anything and doctor's bills were stressful for them.

And one of the indexes of that is that my mother would occasionally borrow money from me even when I was a child.  I got pocket-money of a florin a week (which bought about what $2 would buy today) and usually saved it in my moneybox.  Even when I was a kid I was not big on spending money on myself.  So sometimes I would have the equivalent of about $50 in my moneybox.  And that was enough for my mother to do her essential shopping.  I always got the money back so didn't mind.

Jenny remembers her father borrowing money off her too when she was a kid.  So maybe it was a generational thing.  But he used to pay her interest on his borrowings  -- which was fun for both of them.

But I have just remembered another poverty episode that I thought strange even at the time.  My mother did not have a cake-tin to keep her boiled fruitcakes in (You boil the fruit, not the cake).  Boiled fruitcakes are something of a tradition in Australia, particularly around Christmas time.  They are  often kept for a month or more and eaten only gradually.  So you needed a tin with a lid that sealed fairly well.

A popular source of caketins were tins of toffees and other candies that were often bought as gifts at Christmas times. They were tins of about 8" in diameter so were a good size for keeping fruitcakes in after all the contents had been eaten.  But my mother could not afford one.  So when I was about 6 or 7 she went down to our genial Chinese grocer in Innisfail ("Joe Charles") and asked if she could buy just the tin.  I was with her at the time and to my amazement he agreed.  He tipped the toffees into a big candy jar -- for sale as individual sweets -- and sold my mother the tin for some small sum.  Amazing.  Times were different then.  I remember wondering what the original contents of our caketin would have been like.

3 sisters again

Anne has 2 sisters and the 3 of them get together once or twice a year for a sisterly lunch or dinner, with an early January gathering being particularly customary  -- with customary male companions also being invited.

So last night the 6 of us met at Oliver's restaurant at Manly. It's a rather fancy place so I expected bad service but it was not too slow.

My hearing was a bit of a problem as the place had a tiled floor and was very busy with lots of chatty people.  I find it very difficult to hear people under those circumstances.   But I gathered with the men down one end of the table while the ladies were at the other end so the louder male voices got through to me fairly well in the end.  Colin had to lean over and shout in my ear, however, which he very kindly did.

Colin is 90,  It must be a sign of my own antiquity that I find myself dining with 90-year-olds.  We discussed various environmentalist issues and agreed that the Greenies and animal lib people go too far.  Why birds such as Galahs are protected while they are a real pest  -- with great flocks of them -- in Western Queensland really is hard to understand, for instance.  Surely trapping them for export should be allowed.  They're worth big money overseas.  And we all agreed that the Northern Territory should be opened up for buffalo hunting.

The food was good.  I had the lamb fillet, which was very tasty, but there was a rather small serve of it, which I had expected of such a restaurant.  The others had grilled fish.

We adjourned to Anne's place afterward for tea and coffee.  We could all hear one-another perfectly there so we chatted on for quite a while.

A small meditation: It has always amazed me that there seems to be an inverse relationship between restaurant prices and restaurant service. One would think that dearer restaurants would excel on service -- but it is the other way around. Service in expensive restaurants is almost always dilatory and snooty. You can wait a long time even to get a menu put in front of you. That happened at Olivers. I had to get up, find the menus, and distribute them to my table.

The food however arrived in a reasonable time but then there came the "issue" of paying for it. You would think that paying would be the last thing to be an issue but it was. I requested the bill but after it was not forthcoming I had to walk out into the kitchen to stir things up there. That did work. I got a bill. But then there was nobody to pay the money to! Nobody seemed to want it! I left it on the desk hoping that it would go to its proper place in due course! Amazing.

Have I gone over the top?

Yes.  I have gone over the top.  In my view there is nothing more beautiful than a child with golden curls and brilliant blue eyes.  And gorgeous Dusty is just such a child at the moment.  But my son Joe was such a child too.  And even I was.  Though I think my hair was more white than golden -- as I can still remember my father's friends addressing me as "Snowy".

So when I encountered a young mother outside Bunnings today who had THREE little blondies with her, I of course turned to water.

I was there to buy a bolt cutter (Don't ask) but Bunnings have a charity sausage sizzle outside their front door and I am a sausage tragic.  I can't go past them.  So I was stopped eating a sausage in bread there (with mustard) when a young mother rolled up with her 3 littlies,  One of them was about 4 and said:  "Mummy, Can we have a sausage?":  Obviously well-brought-up Australian kids.

The mother said:  "I don't know,. I don't think I have got enough money for that.  And she opened her change purse and was scrabbling around in it to see what she had.  I had finished my sausage by then so immediately got up, put my hand in my pocket and pulled out all my change and dropped it into the lady's purse.  She was a bit startled but looked up and saw me smiling at her so  said "Thank You".  I just walked on.

After I had brought my bolt cutter and left the shop I did however note that all the kids had a sausage.  I was most pleased.

I was wearing my blue singlet at the time so the lady would probably have seen what I did as just normal Ocker kindness.

I own a Tardis

A Tardis car to be precise.  As everybody knows, a Tardis is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.  It sounds impossible but Toyota achieved it years ago.

I am referring to my Toyota Starlet.  As everybody knows it is a very small, light car.  It was the smallest Toyota available for a while in the '90s and today even my Toyota Echo seems big and heavy alongside it.  Yet it can carry four people and has a big boot for luggage as well.

I bought the car off Anne mainly for Joe's use while he is in Brisbane.  She was upgrading to an automatic Corolla for the sake of her bones.  And she used to carry around in it a big bootful of all sorts of equipment needed for her work as a school nurse:  Audiology machines etc.  So she can tell you about the ample boot.

And when Jenny was driving Von & Co to the airport on 5th, she had to take the Starlet as it was the only way to fit in both them and their luggage.  I gather that they had acquired more possessions whilst here.   So 3 people plus Hannah in a kiddy seat got to the airport with all their luggage courtesy of the Starlet.

How does such a little car manage to be so big?  I suspect that only Toyota and Dr Who could tell you.

A jammy sendoff

For some reason, I have accumulated a great range of jams ("Jelly" in U.S. usage).  If I see what looks like an interesting jar of jam I buy it -- and people make jam out of all sorts of things these days.  The big problem however is that there is one sort of Jam I REALLY like:  cumquat jam.  I even have my own cumquat tree which provides me with the fruit for it.  So whenever I want to put jam on my breakfast toast or croissant, I reach for the cumquat and the other jams never get touched.  So when I found I had about 20 jams in my cupboard, I decided that I had to do something about it.  I put on a special jammy breakfast at my place this morning.

Cumquats ready for jam-making

Both Joe and Von were due to return to their present homes this weekend so I made it a breakfast sendoff.  I had some especially good fresh white bread sourced from a small local baker to go with the jam plus small croissants and raisin bread.  The fresh bread lived up to its expectations and both it and the croissants soon ran out.  And if people found a jam that they particularly liked they were given it to take home.  I greatly reduced my collection that way.

Present were Paul, Joe, Ken, Von, Simon, Davey, myself and Anne  -- plus littlies.  Suz and Russ were late arrivals but there was still raisin bread left so they did not miss out.  The kids had great fun with my Sao biscuits (cookies)  -- laying them as a row of tiles here and there on the floor and elsewhere, breaking them up into pieces and occasionally eating them.  Large cracker biscuits clearly have a lot to be said for them.



It was very hot, as it usually is at this time of the year but everybody seemed to think the breakfast was a fun thing anyway.  The temp at my place rose to 37 degrees C later that day  -- 98 degrees in the old money.  It was humid too.

Something that Anne pointed out to me is that the gathering was mostly male.  That was however mostly happenstance, I think.  I don't know why Olivia and Maureen did not come but Jenny was crook and Paul's household had family obligations.  Susan's family were staying there for a couple of days at the time.  And Susan's father, mother and stepmother are all lovely people whom you would not want to offend.  Somehow however Paul made his apologies and came to my crazy breakfast, without Susan but together with Matthew.  So we had a full complement of littlies running around.  And run they do.

Another recovered memory

Timmy was such a great little kid when he was a toddler that I often tell fun stories about the things he did.  One story that I don't think I have told before has just come to mind.

It was just after we had moved to Faversham St and all the gang were there.  Jenny was in the kitchen busy cooking and Timmy was talking to her -- about what I do not know.  But he was distracting her from her cooking so she told him to get out of the kitchen  -- which he did, standing in the doorway about one inch from the kitchen.  And he resumed talking to her.  So she said:  "I told you to get out of the kitchen".  He replied: "But I am out of the kitchen".  A little 4-year-old lawyer.  Jenny was much amused.

New year's eve

Jenny very kindly put on a party in her BBQ area at her place for a few of us even though she was not feeling very well.  It was basically for the twins with family plus Nanna, Anne and myself.

Simon did most of the cooking and made some kofta for us, which was very good.   Anne brought along a bowl of Liptauer for the occasion, which was much appreciated as a dip.  I asked Simon how come he does the cooking in his house and he replied that Von was so limited that he HAD to learn.  Apparently he was not much of a cook before meeting Von.

The kids had a great time running around Jenny's back yard with Dusty in particular being a ball of energy.

At one stage the ladies were upstairs so I had the two young fathers to myself.  I used the occasion to propagandize them about the importance of fathers to daughters -- something that is not always realized.  But I am sure that both Simon and Russ love their daughters anyway so I probably did not need to speak.  Von said later that Hannah is a Daddy's Girl and Russ involves himself very actively with his children so both girls should have it all.

At the end of the evening, I took Von upstairs and announced that I was going to tell her a secret.  She said she is good at keeping secrets.  There will be much curiosity about what the secret is but I doubt that it will leak out -- though I think she will have to tell her husband  -- but he doesn't say anything anyway (OK, I'm exaggerating -- a little).  It's just a fun thing.

UPDATE:

Anne stayed at my place overnight and helped us to welcome in the new year with a good breakfast the next morning.  It was fried pork chipolata sausages with plenty of fried onion, a fried egg and fried tomato -- plus toast of course.  It was a traditional English breakfast in other words.  Though I think she fried it all in olive oil.  I don't keep a fat pot.  Fat pots have far from died out in ethnic British circles but they are on the wane.

So the breakfast was delicious and much enjoyed despite it being everything that the food freaks deplore.  I have always ignored all food fads anyway but the latest thinking is that fat is good for you so I think I have the last laugh one way or the other.

A double celebration

For lunch today I went to a small do put on by one of Anne's nephews principally for his immediate family. Not much happened except that two little girls aged about 2 or 3 ran around all the time.  They had such a good time that it was a delight to see.

And the lady with the legs was there.  Her father was some improbable height so her long legs were to be expected.  And I was pleased that she obviously knows that they look good  -- as even at family occasions she keeps them well displayed.  She wore a very short skirt today.  She is, however, a perfectly amiable young lady.

And tonight I went over to Jenny's place for a BBQ.  Paul, Joe  and Von were meant to be the principal guests but Paul felt too knackered to come.  He has had a very active Christmas.  So present were Von, Simon, Hannah, Joe, Nanna, Jenny and myself.  We had it in Jenny's backyard.

Jenny cooked up a variety of BBQ meats plus lots of extras.  One lot of extras that I particularly liked were some sliced mangoes.

As I have become something of a cook myself in recent months, I noticed something that I might not otherwise have done.  I noticed that Jenny had given us a profusion of fried onion to go with our meat.  I deduced that Jenny must  have cut up a lot of onions to give us that.  So I said to her: "You must have cut up three onions for that".  She replied:  "Yes.  Three big ones".  Jenny enjoys cooking so she clearly has learnt important stuff.  And the importance of fried onions is hard to overstate

Joe did various gymnastics in the yard to entertain Hannah and that really got Hannah in.  She tried to imitate what Joe did.  She got pretty wound up.

I gave Joe a 75X telescope as a Christmas present.  I felt I should have given him one as a boy so I hope he still has some boy in him.  They were all planning to look at the sky through it when I left.