I had a morcilla (Spanish black pudding) left over from a dish I cooked at the weekend, so I skinned it and bashed it around in a saucepan over a medium heat until it broke up. I added a chopped onion and let it fry in the fat a while, then added three tins:
Black beans
Chopped tomatoes with garlic
Carrots and petits pois
And some smoked paprika and some chilli flakes, and let it all simmer together while I crisped up a microwaved jacket potato in the oven.
That was yesterday. Today I added red wine and more chilli flakes, and served it with the end of a sour cream and chive dip. Even better.
Here’s one of this year’s Christmas decorations. They’re a bit experimental: I picked up a box of decanterless stoppers in a charity shop and have been caging them in beaded wire crochet. The solid ones are going to be a bit heavy for trees, but should be just about okay hung close to the trunk. I’m going to hang a big bead from the bottom.
I’m finding that I’m not terribly interested in writing at the moment, and I’m very much enjoying making things in three dimensions instead. Having finished my fishpond skirt, I’ve moved on to these beaded things and am thinking too about picking up my knitting needles again, and finally getting around to trying out my new big darning loom, and I’d like to do some patchwork too… Meanwhile, writing… meh, as they used to say on the internet. I expect I’ll get caught up by it again sooner or later, but for the moment it seems to belong to another life.
The garden is running wild, and has been since the summer. It’s been on my conscience, too. It looks a little tidier now that the leaves are falling, but it’s also more obvious how much needs trimming back and cutting down now that it isn’t just a mass of green.
So today I had someone round to give me a quote for tidying it up and, as he put it, putting it to bed for the winter. I’d love to be able to do it myself, but it just isn’t going to happen. This is the next best option.
There’s something faintly annoying about having misjudged how much thread you need to finish a given seam, even when there’s plenty left on the reel. But it pales by comparison with the subsequent satisfaction of having got the thing done.
Well, I wouldn’t be posting if I hadn’t finished sewing.
But it’s difficult to hem a garment that’s underneath a cat. She’s very cosy on my cosy jacket. (Charity shop find, several years ago, and it’s improved every winter since.)
I know the skirt looks like it’s hemmed. There’s quite a lot that you can’t see that still needs doing.
I did it. I added gold ribbon to make the ripples in the fishpond. It’s a bit wonky but it’s the best I could do without getting up from the sofa and waking the baby. It’ll look fine when the skirt’s on and the fabric falls into folds.
Now I have just over a week to hem it. Which ought to be fine, but it’s a very long hem.
These days I usually find myself going out with the baby in the pram, and coming back with the baby in the sling and the shopping in the pram. This was the day I bought a passion flower, two cakes, a box of cereal, and a cushion…
Not much to report other than in the garden, but I want to establish the Monday format while I remember what it is I think I’m doing. I now have all the components for my big winter skirt. I also have ideas for a couple of quilts. What I don’t have, or not for long enough to get anything done, is free hands. I’m hopeful that a baby bouncer may help there…
In the back garden, chaos continues to reign. I am meaning to get out and pick the blackberries before the devil spits (or worse) on them at Michaelmas, but I have a nasty feeling that’s as far as it’s going to go. In the front garden, I co-opted my youngest brother to plant a passion flower to replace the two that died in the heat. Tony has cleared several bags’ worth of slate chippings and all of the membrane, and the next step is for me to order some more plants to fill in the gap. I have managed to put half a dozen bulbs in with my own hands while someone else holds the baby, or she takes a (very short) nap. It’s slow going, but then gardening often is.
Kathleen Jowitt 