Wren

There is a little wren in our garden.  I love wrens, they always remind me of my childhood, but you don’t get to see them very often, in fact despite being fortunate to be brought up in a house with a very big garden I don’t remember seeing wrens in it as a child.  I think actually my childhood memories of wrens have more to do with when my grandfather used to visit.

He smoked a pipe and the tobacco he used came in a cylindrical tin.  He would put a shinny farthing in an empty tobacco tin and roll it across the hallway for us to chase after, if we caught it before it fell over we got to keep the farthing.  I can’t remember or not – maybe BB can help here – whether if we didn’t catch it he rolled it again for us or we then went farthing-less, maybe we always succeeded!

Recycling

I am at a slight loss to understand why local councils deal with recycling so differently.  Not a total loss as I think it is maybe more to do with targets and money than actually recycling, but even taking that into consideration I am at a loss as to why one council should make it so easy as to encourage those who might otherwise not and another make it so complicated as to deter those who would.

South Lanarkshire made it easy.  A green wheelie bin for household rubbish, a blue wheelie bin for anything that was recyclable apart from glass for which their was a Burgundy wheelie bin – yes we did have a whole wheelie bin for glass and yes there were times when we filled it.  Batteries (including car batteries), electrical items and any compostable waste along with other specialist times and things like wood could be taken along to the local council site which was open at weekends and in the evenings and is all set up with big containers to collect the items.  Easy!

Now in East Dunbartonshire it is different.  A grey wheelie bin for household rubbish, a green wheelie bin for garden rubbish but not food related rubbish, and a collection of boxes that I haven’t yet been able to work out what they are for, I was told on more than one occasion but I honestly can’t remember, other than one is for paper which mustn’t get wet and mustn’t be shredded and mustn’t be card.  How with the wind and rain we have had recently the flimsy lid would stay on and not get the paper wet I am not sure.  However as someone who believes in recycling where possible we searched for the local council site, and did we find one, well yes and no.  We have found a collection of bottle and can and paper and card banks, and even a book and clothes bank.  but to recycle everything we need to go driving around for an afternoon and some things are too big for the little letter boxes those banks have on them.  If we want something like we used to have we have to cross a council boundary and go into Glasgow City Council and use their facilities.  Why make is so complicated, why clutter up the pavements with boxes and lids and bins, why deter even those who would like to recycle never mind those who can’t see the point, why can’t East Dunbartonshire make it as simple as South Lanarkshire?

Call me what you will, but, I can’t help wondering if a woman is in charge of the recycling policy in South Lanarkshire.

Well And Truly Read And Rested

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Books, Brad H Young, Fannie Flagg, Katharine McMahon, Madeleine L'engle, Religion, Sue Monk Kidd

Our annual retreat to Argyll in October is always a joy, this year however was slightly different.  No driving the twisting roads in the gentle October weather with ‘Baby’s’ hood down.  No visiting the vast amount of pre-historical sites.  No trawling round the art galleries (much to Hubby’s relief).  No photographs of the wonderful hues of gold and yellow and orange and red and silver and purple, which once more brought on my sigh of ‘Oh I wish I could paint’.  No not even any castle exploring.  This year despite the glorious weather it was a case of sitting in front of the fire with a glass of wine, or mug of coffee and a cream cake and reading, and what an assortment.

I can’t remember who it was that mentioned ‘A Wind in the Door’ by Madeleine L’engle.  However it had been sitting waiting to be read for some time.  Shame on me for taking so long it is an utterly charming book about a young boy who thinks he has seen a dragon, only to then discover that it is a cherubim.  Not the toro-less one of art with just two wings and a cheery face, but a proper one covered in wings and eyes.  The book is actually intended for children, well this child adored it.  It is the second in a series of five books and even though I hadn’t read the 1st it didn’t matter.  As Charles health deteriorates his sister with the help of one very unexpected, one other not so unexpected person join with the cherubim and Baljeny (read the book I am not going to spoil who they might be) to restore Charles back to full health, oh and Louise the snake helps too.

The Rose of Sebastopol by Katharine McMahon is most definitely an adult book.  The majority of the book is set during the Crimean War, mainly in and around Balaklava and is steeped with historical nuggets.  It is one of those books that jumps back in time to fill in bits of information but the jumping back in this instance isn’t as annoying as I sometimes find that particular style of  writing as in the main it is only a jump back of a year.  Florence Nightingale is always somewhere in the distance although we never actually meet her in the book, and it in part down to Florence that Mariella ends up after having lived a very secluded life in Victorian London immersed in the sights, sounds and smells of the Crimea.  Rosa, Mariella’s cousin, wanted to be a nurse with Florence Nightingale helping the wounded soldiers, but Rosa isn’t one to follow rules and after Mariella visits Henry a life long friend who has also been affected by the war, Mariella finds herself taking the most unexpected and a life changing journey into the Crimea.

I also read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.  RevRuth has been telling me to read this book for what seems like years and now I finally know why she kept going on about it.  Beautifully written, poignant with a real soul.  It too is a story of discovery set in the American South during times of great change.  Read it, I doubt you will be disappointed.

A while back I wrote on my blog about ‘A Redbird Christmas by Fannie Flagg’ after someone recommended I read it, the same person also recommend that I read Standing in the Rainbow also by Fannie Flagg so that also accompanied us up to Argyll.  It was an easy read and very enjoyable although it is very hard to actually convey what the story is about as it is about so much and yet as a book doesn’t really have a main theme or even main character.  I started off by thinking we were going to follow one person’s life only to discover that person faded into the background and another person came to the forefront and so it continued.  It is a great book for taking on holiday or reading if you are the kind of person who only reads in short spurts as all the chapters are short and you wont lose the plot, mainly because there isn’t one it is the story of life a collection of lives that somewhere along the way meet in the small town of Elmwood Springs, Missouri.

Finally I also delved into Meet the Rabbis by Brad H Young, not really holiday reading but while you might be able to take the priest away from her study you can’t stop her being a priest.  Jesus was a Jew and a Rabbi of his time, this book traces some of the Rabbinic thoughts that were around then and on which Jesus drew shedding extra light on some of his teachings, it also tries to put the Pharisees in a better light from that which they are usually cast.

So lots of reading and tossing logs on the fire at the end of chapters and a very restful holiday, now with Advent under my belt before I left for Argyll it is on with Christmas and Epiphany.

The Wilds Of Bearsden

Wednesday saw me in a panic, I couldn’t find my car keys anywhere and having spent so long looking for them decided the only thing left to do was to get a taxi to church for the service and then walk back home afterwards.  Having retold my plight at coffee after the service and been given the assurance of a very easy and quick short cut, once I was ready to return home I headed to the alloted path.

Along I trotted admiring the many fine gardens and houses, turning here, crossing the roads there, quite pleased that the short cut seemed to mean the hill was omitted.  I walked past the old school just as I had been instructed and started to think, this is a bit like the short cuts I used to take as a child, twice as long, I am sure I would have been home by now had I stayed on the main road.  I looked for landmarks, and couldn’t see any, so kept walking scanning the rooftops for the sight of the flat’s opposite the Rectory.

If I hadn’t been so busy looking up I might have seen the wolf standing slap bang in the middle of the pathway in front of me.  Okay so maybe it wasn’t a real wolf, but it sure looked like one, and snarled like one.  There was I standing there, there was he, or she, standing guard at the gateway to its owners fine estate.  I stepped out onto the road the wolf, for I will continue to call it such, did likewise and snarled again.  I moved further into the road and the wolf continue to move and block my path.  Okay I thought I am lost anyway I will turn around and head back, but I didn’t really want to turn my back on the creature as it obviously wasn’t happy with my presence in his patch.  Slowly, now on the other pavement I walked backwards, the wolf snarled one more time and then content that it’s mission had been accomplished padded back over the road and up into the driveway.  I continued down the road still lost and starting to have an idea as to how little red riding hood might have felt!

Eventually I had to admit defeat and finding a street name phoned Hubby, who helpfully told me I was lost and miles away from home, before even more helpfully actually telling me how to get back home.  Another walk back along roads I had just travelled, fortunately not pass the wolf’s lair, then through the woods, around the loch, along a hedge until I joyfully emerged at the other end of the road the Rectory is in, finally arriving back an hour and a half after setting off, it will only take you 15 minutes I had been told!

In future if I ever go to church without my car I am taking a street map in my bag and a doggie treat for the wolves!

Big Girl’s Toys

Two Rectories ago I had a yellow kitchen and consequently had kitchen chairs that had yellow (and blue and green) on them.  The last Rectory I couldn’t get a table in the kitchen so it was dismantled and put in the loft, here there is the room and I do so love having a kitchen table, so the table and chairs are out again, however the fabric wasn’t right so after a great deal of searching and material getting lost in the post the fabric finally arrived the end of last week.

The excitement was immense, I would get to play with one of my favorite toys – my staple gun!

So if you can, just try and imagine my disappointment after painstakingly removing an old cover only to discover my that my staple gun wasn’t working.  I had prior to this already dismissed Hubby’s staple gun, because it wasn’t mine, but at least there was still one around.

However, I was worried, Hubby likes his toys too and is always a bit reluctant to let me use them.  Well that isn’t actually true he doesn’t mind me using them and trusts me in their use, but he likes to play too!  Was the request for his staple gun going to mean that he would just decide to do it himself.

Well, dear reader, I can let you know that my joy was complete, he happily let me play while son complained about the noise and Hubby did the part of the job that isn’t fun – removing the rest of the old covers.

The new fabric is rather nice, don’t you agree?

 

Post script – I must however point out in the interests of all things health and safety that staple guns are not toys!

Why, Oh Why …

… do funeral directors think they can phone you on a Wednesday afternoon and say;

“Are you available for a funeral on Friday at 10am?”

and then sound utterly surprised when you answer; “Well actually no, I’m not.”

Pear and Almond Shortcake

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Recipe

Been ages since I have put a recipe on the blog and on Friday at All Saints Harvest Supper this went down a treat so thought I would put it on here so that those who asked for it can get it easily and those that didn’t can try it for themselves if they fancy it.

Make your shortcake, use a recipe you already like or know if you want doesn’t need to be this one, which makes a lot, just remember to adjust the filling quantities too! 

• 300g self-raising flour
• 50g ground almonds
• grated rind of two large unwaxed lemons
• 100g soft brown sugar
• 500g butter

yes you have entered cholesterol city and there is more to come!

Rub it all together, draw together and press into a spring sided tin, prick it all over and bake at 180C for 30 mins you don’t want to let it get too brown.  Let it cool while you prepare the filling.

• 4-5 pears (packham or williams I have found best for this recipe)
• 300g soft cheese (phily type)
• 2 eggs
• 50g ground almonds

Peel, core and slice the pears.  Whisk the cheese, eggs and almonds.  Arrange the pears on the shortcake spoon over the filling making sure it covers the pears.  Bake for a further 30-40 mins, it is done when set.  I tend to give it less and take it out as soon as it is firm, then brown the top with some sugar and my blow torch rather than letting the base get too dark, which can happen.  Best eaten warm or cold, doesn’t quite work hot in my book.

If you don’t like, or want to use almonds then substitute the ground almonds in the base for ground rice and the ground almonds in the filling for a vanilla pod.

ABC

No I am not learning my alphabet over again, despite the new things continuing.  This ABC is the Association of Bearsden Churches and last night I attended my first meeting.  Ecumenical activities always amuse me, you can quickly tell the ones who are just doing it because they think they should be (often the clergy) and those who are genuinely excited by and wishing to engage in ecumenism, this meeting was no different.

Now don’t get me wrong with what I am about to say, there seems to be a lot going on and apparently the events are well supported.  Also I am all for sharing ideas and I don’t get all precious about my ideas and am more than happy for other people to use them if they think they might work, however …

I had taken along my idea about doing something for next years International Peace Day which I blogged about here.  The idea was met with great enthusiasm, good stuff I thought.  Then the dreaded question as to where it might be held was asked.  A moments silence before I replied All Saints would be happy to host it due to our position at the Cross with its shops and lots of people passing by.  I was also aware that several other things were in the pipeline that weren’t going to be held at All Saints, one of them despite being at the end of this month still wasn’t organised and I didn’t want this idea to end up getting lost and another year passing by with nothing done about it.

How disappointed I was to then hear the inital ’good, that’s sorted’; quickly change to well we could also hold it in this church and that church and the best one in response to my suggestion that one thing that could be done was people could come in and light a candle was: ”Well we can always get candles and can hold it too, we don’t just need to do it at one place.”   Well no we don’t, but it is hardly an ecumenical venture when the same thing is happening at three or four churches in an area of around 1 square mile!  We shall see what transpires.

God’s Bounty

Yesterday saw Harvest in St Andrew’s and All Saints.  Both churches were decorated to the nines, and joy was abounding.  One of the nice things was in both congregations there where actually elements of congregational harvesting, people had brought along the jam they had made, the fruit and vegetables they had grown and copious amounts of flowers and berries from gardens and the wayside.  At All Saints we had a short delay in starting the service as people tried to find seats and pew sheets were redistributed so that everyone could see one, it always gladens a priests heart to see a packed church.

The day didn’t start off too well however, I was greeted in the bathroom by another spider!  This one just decided it would charge straight for me, boy can they move!  Hubby was there like a shot, with not a clue what the screaming was all about, that was until he arrived on the scene with me gibbering by the door pointing at the culprit, who quickly realising he had made some big mistake tried to hide.  Later as I suggested the children might do some harvesting of conkers for me, I discovered that the Rectory is by no means the only home that has these invaders, I also discovered that they are unusually big this year according to the locals, I don’t care how big or small they are I just wish they would keep out!

Bad News

I have some very bad news, in fact for me it was the worse kind when discovered.  Those of you who know me well, or have read this blog in the past will know of my phobia for those 8 legged creatures that, in my opinion are God’s one big mistake, yes I speak of spiders.

You will know that in the last Rectory we had a multitude of them outside on the decking, but they knew my views and rarely if every ventured from their space across the Rectory threshold into mine.

You will know that ‘B’ (from St Mark’s) and I shared this phobia and that after discovering a natty little devise generously bought me one also to deal with those few invaders at a length that was just about acceptable.

You will know how I have sung the praises of those electronic plug thingys and the way they work sending a ‘keep out’ message not just to spiders but to other things that I would rather kept to their space and out of mine.

You might also remember me recounting the horror with which, before we moved into this Rectory, the discovery of a spider that was big enough to be charged council tax had moved in, and how Hubby dealt with it but wasn’t too happy about its residence either, especially as due to its size he was left dealing with it.  He had got used to no longer having to come home to a variety of cups sitting upside down on the floor with spiders below them – not that this one would have fitted under a cup – and knowing that he would have to deal with them first before he would get any kind of sense out of me.

Well dear reader the bad news is that another one of these monsters has found its way through the electronic radar and was grinning at me, yes I do mean grinning, I could almost hear its evil cackle, as it saw me see it.

There was no way it was going to stay, but also there was no one at home other than me.  My heart was pounding so hard the spider probably couldn’t hear the sonic devise telling it to go away.  I rushed to get my spider catcher and took a deep breath, hoping it hadn’t moved, because then the horrors really start.  The only thing worse than seeing a spider is not seeing one that was there a minute ago and not knowing from whence it might jump out at me from!  It hadn’t moved, a chase ensued as I struggled to catch the monster it was just too big, each time the threads closed it wriggled out, parting them with the ease of a hot knife through butter.  Panic was rising as it, turned shouted, “Can’t catch me”, and made a dash towards hiding, my last chance!  As I closed the contraption around it again it wriggled out only this time it decided that it would wriggle out to stand on it.  I was shaking, I nearly dropped the spider catcher thingy, what if it decided to run up the long handle and come and get me, somehow I held on.  Quickly but gently, didn’t want to risk it falling off, I got it to the door and dropped it back outside where it belonged.

Now the reason for this post is not just to tell you an account of the horrendous experience or simply to pass on the bad news that in Bearsden it would appear that the spiders are so big they aren’t scared of a little bit of electronic noise.  No the real reason for this post is a plea for help.

I have tried the modern version of trying to keep spiders at bay and this time around I consider myself fortunate that the spider decided to sit on the spider catcher rather than go scampering off under the furniture where I couldn’t reach it.  I fear the barricades currently in place are not offering the defence that I had hoped, so I am going to try an older method which requires your assistance.

I need some conkers, horse chesnuts, call them what you will, apparently they give off something that spiders don’t like, and as luck would have it we are just at the right time of year for them.  I need a number of them, you are supposed to place them all round the place one isn’t going to be enough, so if you see any please don’t walk on by, pick them up and get them to me, please as I am not sure I could cope with another experience like that one!