Quite
She was an inspiration & comfort to many
Carinthia.xx
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They were nostalgia even when they were new, which is quite an achievement.
And she could at least sing.
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NPD can sod right off. Along with all the other fatuous, madey-uppy NXDs. And it can take its 50,000,017 ants with it.
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Aawww Gus donât you love picnics?
All the elfy fresh air and fun of soggy sandwiches and weeping meringues with curdled cream shared with wasps and ants
And lashings and lashings of ginger beer
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I love picnics and barbecues and outdoor eating in general, and I do them whenever I want to, not on a Declared Day (apart from anything else thatâs when every other beggar is having them).
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I too love outdoor eating
A great joy is finding a nice flat rock and lighting a fire then dumping the rock in the fire
Let the fire die down and throw steaks on the rock
Cooked in minutes or seconds if you like rare meat
Delicious
And a meal like that on the shore means no fecking midges or ants or wasps
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Itâs the National X___ Dayness I object to rather than picnics per se although - rock cakes? Really?
On the other hand, my delight as a child that mustard could be had in little tubes like toothpaste knew no bounds. And I didnât take mustard at the time. Not even on r#ck c#kes.
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Rock cakes aka misshapen scones in my book
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Much nastier in mineâŚ
Carinthia.xx
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Rocks are cheaper, and more fun to throw.
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Theyâve always seemed a bit pointless to me: definitely the bottom-feeders of the cake tin. Being in the open air does not, contrary to family belief, magically transmute them into some kind of delicacy.
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I am sorting out patterns for skirts
Now do I want the one with 8 godets or the sensible one?
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You said yesterday that you were having a simple âAâ line skirt, Twellsy
Carinthia.xx
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Are these really the qualities that we expect of cellarites?
Just stirring, sorry, asking.
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Sensible one it is
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I would rinse the fabric through, first, Twellsy, so that you donât get any nasty surprises. Some viscose shrinks.
How is the Fishly Finger today?
Carinthia.xx
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Waiting for godets, then, Twellsy?
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Nope
Godets is the pattern I can find
Sensible one has buggaed orf into the wide blue yonder neâer to be seen again
Hardly a surprise in this hovel
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The fishly finger has had gaffer tape carefully put round it to stop the edges of the nurse-applied dressing from escaping, and is fine. Now that the wound itself can no longer bang against anything, and the existence of a great big lump stops me from trying to use the thing absent-mindedly, all is well. I have even had a bath.
When I was little we had picnics in the evenings of a 1950s summer; my mother would get food prepared for supper, and then when my father got home from the university she would see if he felt like driving somewhere, and if he didnât weâd eat the picnic on the lawn at home or even in the sitting-room, but if he did we would set off to find somewhere reasonably close. There was a trig. point on the Fair Mile where we went more than once which the dog refused to go near, and we always reckoned he saw ghosts there: his hair went up all down his back and he cowered; there was a clearing at the edge of an evergreen plantation with a small stream and silver birch trees; there was the end of a track beside a huge field where a wood started and there was a straw-stack; there was a field down by the river, where there was a cove with minnows⌠It was said to be âtoo hot to eat in the dining-roomâ, and none of the food involved using the oven, which my mother said would have melted her completely.
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I know the feeling your Mama would have had Fishy
We are having cold colations as i refuse to cook on half a ton of cast iron that radiates heat at you
In current heat and humidity there would be a small puddle of melted me by the range
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