itchy feet but not many shoes

Went for a tasty curry tonight with a couple of old friends who I don't see nearly often enough.

One of them will soon be taking six months off work to travel round the world with her partner - Thailand, Cambodia, New Zealand, Australia, Easter Island, Galapagos, Peru, the Amazon, and finally the Carribbean (see - I was paying attention!). They leave soon after Christmas, and, not surprisingly, are eager to start.

I'm really impressed that she's managed to choose only four pairs of shoes to take with her, even if she's not very happy about the restriction.

I can't believe it's twenty-one years sine I went to South America, and twenty-six since Australia. I'm not old enough for it to be that long ago, surely?

a wandering minstrel, I

I'm just back from a day in Bristol. The main reason for going was training on copyright which is not the most riveting of subjects, but I learnt a fair amount. The best part of the trip, though, was the opportunity to indulge in a favourite pastime of mine: wandering the streets of a strange city with only a cursory glance at a map.

It's a risky strategy, especially if, like today, there's a particular place to be and a particular time to arrive there, but I was on my own so I could explore as much as I wanted and if I ended up going the long way round (which I did), then it was only me who suffered.

There's a lot going on in Bristol in the use of digital technology, which I find exciting, though I saw no evidence of it today. Back in the 1980's, I had a hankering to live and work in Bristol, though I had no rational explanation for that desire, so perhaps I would have got involved in the current developments. I never went there in the end, but I'm very happy with the way things turned out, so I have no regrets.)

I hadn't realised that so much of the city is based around the docks and waterfront, though perhaps my route accidentally emphasised it: boats, swans, marinas, even a ferry service up and down the river. The SS Great Britain is moored there too, and I had a vague intention of having a glance at it, but never made it that far.

At lunchtime, we went to the nearby Cabot tower, built to commemorate John Cabot who set sail from Bristol on his journey to Newfoundland in 1497. The tower is at the top of a hill and commands fine views of the city (apparently), but it was closed.

So there were a few plans that didn't work out, but I enjoyed the day anyway, and I took some photographs for a particular purpose, which I shall write about sometime soon...

food, glorious food

Recently, Nat wrote about her favourite meal. The following isn't necessarily my favourite meal, but we eat it quite often becuase it's simple, quick and healthy yet satisfyingly tasty. It doesn't really count as a recipe either, because it's so straightforward and you can adapt it in all sorts of ways, but there is a crucial part. Focussing on the stable ingredients, we call it, with wild abandon, 'Chicken Pittas':

Lightly toast three pitta breads per person and slice them open. Insert shredded white cabbage, shredded lettuce and grated carrot. Add some mayonnaise diluted with semi-skimmed milk (mix a small quantity first to prevent it from going lumpy) then mixed with plenty of lime juice. Place slices of stir-fried chicken on top of the mayonnaise mixture then finish off with sliced spring onion. And that's all there is to it.

We sometimes vary it by using red pepper and/or cherry tomatoes, but the lime and mayonnaise mixture is the key part, turning it from just plain chicken with salad into a delicious dish. Even then, you could probably change that to yoghurt and mint if you wanted to.

more on music

I've not felt like posting here for a while. There's nothing wrong - I've written a couple of posts at my other blog - but I just haven't felt like opening up. I really appreciate the comments everyone made in response to my previous post about music. I may well take you up on some of your suggestions about going to a gig or trying new music. I don't want to make this into more than it is, but it feels like a large, important topic, and I want to treat it with due respect.

By coincidence, a new series started on Channel 4 last Saturday about how music works. I recorded it, but haven't watched it yet.

the tracks of my tears

Recently I've been getting a lift into work and home again, but today I walked both ways and I really enjoyed it. It gives me an opportunity to listen to music on my mp3 player and enjoy the cool, fresh autumn days.

It seemed a day for 'Sticky Fingers' by the Rolling Stones (can it really be 35 years since it was released?), followed by the more recent 'Tour de France Soundtracks' by Kraftwerk. I have a poor ear for music, and no musical ability whatsoever, but both albums have clearly distinguished instruments, and I enjoy thinking about how the various parts have been put together (or constructed, in the case of Kraftwerk).

Sometimes it saddens me that I no longer seem to get emotionally involved in music - it's just a pleasant but distant experience. And that's why I hate those ear buds. I resent the intrusion inside my head. But desensitisation is much wider than music, both personally and societally, and a topic I don't feel capable of tackling. Perhaps I'm anxious about what I might conclude about myself?

robin of the wood

Following yesterday's post about the robin, there was a short programme on TV tonight about the robins at the Eden project in Cornwall. I missed it, but apparently British robins are much less timid than robins in the continent, and the explanation given for this is the good relationship established with the many gardeners in this country.

They also said that the name robin is an old, informal one - Robin Redbreast, like Brock the Badger - and the name has stuck so well it's become the official one. Yet another example of the ridiculous but also marvellous quirks of our history and language. Wonderful!

and for my next trick...

With the short days, I'm spending less time now at our allotment. Lisa, however, is able to go down there during the day, and has been hard at work digging. A robin hangs around nearby, waiting for worms, and seems to have adopted her. It has even trained her to deliver worms to it. Who'd have thought that humans could be taught tricks so easily?

click on what, precisely?

It's easy to have too much of point-and-click games, but once in a while, as a change, they can be fun. I'm currently playing Submachine Zero: Ancient Adventure, which has much better drawings and sound than quite a few I've discovered.

Unfortunately, I'm stuck. Can anyone help? So far, I've found three red jewels and a stone, and a room with what looks like a block of stone with a pole in it, but I can't get past the second door with the sliding spikes.

I know in these games that it can be difficult to remember or describe exactly what actions lead to which results, but if anyone else would like to have a go and perhaps give me a pointer in the right direction, I'd be grateful.

sums can be fun

I enjoyed writing about Scottish food recently, but that wasn't the sort of topic I had envisaged for this blog. I'd intended to write about more personal stuff here, preferably positive and happy stuff, and leave the more general topics to my other blog, The Valley of Lost Things.

Obviously, there are no hard and fast rules, and it may be that I find the upkeep of two blogs to be too demanding, but nevertheless that's what I'm still aiming to do.

So what's today's little item then? Well, it's not very personal, but it does make me happy. I've been getting more and more interested in kakuro recently (otherwise known as cross sums). It's a number puzzle, a bit like sudoku because you fill in the numbers one to nine in a grid, but it also involves a little bit of mental arithmetic.

The Guardian has a kakuro puzzle each day, graduating from easy on a Sunday :) Monday morning to hard on a Friday. Even better, though, is the website dedicated to kakuro, with a new free online puzzle every day.

You can buy kakuro software there if you wish, and there are other kakuro sites with puzzles you can print out or software to download, but one puzzle a day is enough for me.

ye'll have had yer tea (part 2)

Having dealt yesterday with what's bad about Scottish cuisine, let's list some of the good stuff.

High tea is a particular type of meal, usually had on a Sunday. A hot dish is followed by bread and butter, and traditionally you have to eat two slices of this to fill you up before you are allowed to proceed to the feast of cakes, scones and shortbread that cover the entire table.

Arbroath Smokies are a type of kipper, Clootie Dumpling is a steamed pudding, and Black Bun is a rich, heavy cake covered in a kind of pastry and served to First Footers on Hogmanay (New Year's Eve). The first person through the door should be dark-haired and carrying a piece of coal. Steak and kidney pie is served for lunch on New Year's Day. For me, only the pie is of interest, but I mention the others for your edification.

In the home baking line there's Kirriemuir Slices (sometimes known as Millionaire Shortbread, and similar to Twix bars), pancakes (a thick mixture dopped onto a very hot griddle) and oatcakes - the small, crisp ones for eating with cheese like crackers, not like Staffordshire oatcakes which are rolled up with bacon and cheese.

For starters, you might have Scotch Broth or Cock-a-leekie soup, followed by the main course: salmon, Aberdeen Angus, venison (which I once ate in a restaurant served with a chocolate sauce, but I don't expect that was a traditional Scottish recipe), or the casserole called Stovies - layers of thinly-sliced potato, onions and lamb. There's a rare type of lamb from Orkney where the sheep are kept away the grass, which is reserved for cattle, and have to eat seaweed instead on the shore, so the meat has a faint salty taste.

For dessert, there's delicious soft fruit from central Scotland. A particularly tasty pudding is Cranachan, a mixture of toasted oats, honey, raspberries and whisky. Crowdie is a type of cottage cheese from the north of Scotland.

There's lots more, but these are the main ones I can remember off the top of my head. Now I've made myself hungry!

ye'll have had yer tea?

Emma left a comment on yesterday's post about the wonderful food that comes from Scotland. I wholeheartedly agree. When people think of Scottish food, they tend to think firstly of porridge, which I wrote about yesterday, and haggis. That's fair enough - it's traditionally served on Burns Night in January with 'bashed neeps and champit tatties' (translation: mashed potatoes and turnips) and, if done in proper style, is brought in on a large serving dish while someone recites the address or ode to a Haggis ("great chieftain o' the puddin-race"), followed by Scottish country dancing. A grand evening, though I can only manage a small amount of haggis before I remember what's in it.

Going beyond that, some might think of deep-fried Mars bars. I've never actually seen this in a chip shop, but then I haven't been in a chippie in Scotland for many years. (In Scottish chippies, you're not asked if you want salt and vinegar, but salt'n'sauce, a thin, brown concoction like a watered-down HP sauce.) And of course, poor health in Scotland is rife, the result of too much salt and jammy pieces.

A few years ago, I spotted in a supermarket in England a pack of four Scottish meat pies, and pounced on them immediately, having fond memories of eating these as a child. They're round, with a crisp, raised rim around the top, and filled with minced lamb. As soon as I bit into it, I was flooded with liquid grease, and I suddenly remembered why I stopped eating them.

But Scottish cuisine at its best is delicious, and there's lots of it. Enough for a whole other post, in fact. Come back tomorrow, to find out what's on the menu...

go to work on a porridge

Etcb has written a post about her favourite meal of egg, chips and beans, especially if the chips are home made., and she received some appreciative comments. It's at this time of year that the importance of food becomes apparent again, to keep us warm and fight off colds.

I like to start the day with a bowl of porridge. I'm still Scottish enough to put salt on rather than sugar, but not too Scottish to be concerned about using the five-minute variety of oats. I still need a little bit extra like a banana or toast and marmalade to satisfy my need for something tasty, but porridge keeps me going through the morning like nothing else can.

What do you like for breakfast?

the race is not to the swift

There was a lovely segment on TV last night about swifts. Apart from being a jog to the fading memories of summer warmth, it was a fascinating insight into the mysterious evolutionary niche these birds inhabit.

They fly non-stop for several years, eating and sleeping on the wing, able to circle around and compensate for winds blowing them off course, even with half of their brain shut down. They cover thousands of miles in their lifetimes and no-one knows how they get enough calcium for their egg shells since the insects they eat don't contain enough.

Film from Oxford University Library showed a family of swifts in their nest in the roof. These birds can't walk or perch and they have virtually no neck muscles so they lie awkwardly on top of each other. They had a few parasites, called flat beetles, but no-one knows how the creatures get there since the birds never land except to breed.

Truly amazing.

the sky tonight

I've just been out for a lovely stroll with Lisa. We didn't go far - just to the local late shop - but we took a roundabout route at a slow pace and stopped to watch the night sky, trying unsuccessfully to spot Comet Swan somwhere in the west.

It was cold and the streets were quiet, but lots of planes blinked slowly past above us. A calm and relaxing way to end the day.