Learning to Lose Control

Posted on January 11, 2013 by Tiggy Hayes

I am sure it was not that long ago I was struggling with the complexities of pregnancy, birth and sudden motherhood. An alien inside me was making me feel unwell and unable to depend on my usual choice of medication.  It was growing independently of me yet deep within my burgeoning belly. Organised and planned as I was, it was this independent entity who chose to come into the world 10 days early with no adherement to my carefully orchestrated birth plan.  Gone were all my plans and routines, my social life curtailed once and for all as this tiny blob of humanity took over my whole world.

Following his arrival there were only a fleetingly short few months where this wonderful creation and I were so entirely wrapped up with each other to the exclusion of the rest of the world. He was so dependent upon me for everything.  A tiny cry amid the cacophony of daily sounds to tell me he was hungry, craved cuddles or needed a nappy change.  I could tell them all, instinctively I could sense his every requirement.    This miracle of mine would stay where I laid him, the soft gurgle of his baby’s giggle would be my answer to the myriad of questions I would ask him, his young awe filled eyes would wander the room lighting up as they caught my reflected gaze.

No 1 Son grew up and has just recently had his 17th birthday.  He is never where I last saw him, the monosyllabic answers lack any mirth and the only gaze in my direction is followed by the exasperated glance heavenward.    Although still  my baby but we now had to find him a suitable birthday present.

A little bit of digging around and mixing together gave us the perfect shoe box of goodies.   We filled it with his provisional driving licence which I had managed to apply for online, a copy of the new insurance documentation allowing him to drive our car, a copy of the Highway Code changed and much updated from my ancient copy, a set of L plates and a gift voucher for 6 hours of driving lessons.  After that he would have to pay for his lessons himself.

The plates were attached instantly, and the eagerness untamed until he was permitted to drive.  Any driver will know it is not just a question of leaping in the car and going.  There are gears to get to grips with, the clutch to contemplate and the speedy reactions from the accelerator.  Decisions to be made as to when to use the brake pedal on the floor or the one beside you; why on earth do you need both.   Why on earth does Sexy Sporty Dad use kangaroo petrol in the car, because the vehicle jumps and stalls when you try to move away? And the road; full of other cars, pedestrians, lorries, bikes, parked cars, roundabouts and traffic lights.  How is anyone supposed to cope with all of those without multi-tasking?

No longer that tiny dependent baby, 17 year olds have an inherent inner belief, they are invincible, and they do know it all.   They learn through the osmosis of their friends.  Only a fellow 17 year old has the ability to interpret the correct grunt, the angle of the slumped shoulder or the glazed gaze.  Only another 17 year old has the right to impart his complete repertoire of experience in a ritual of nods, mumbles and snorts.  What do mine and Sexy Sporty Dad’s nearly 60 years experience of driving count; after all we learnt to drive before the wheel was even invented.

So my incredibly brave husband ventured out amid furious protests and drove the car to a thankfully deserted industrial estate where he was persuaded to vacate the driving seat.  No 1 Son took control of the car and spent a few hours kangarooing round the local roads.

The following night was my turn to be the willing passenger allowing him to drive me around town.  I still unable to quite relinquish my control totally retraced the route to the once again deserted industrial estate and left the safe security of the driving seat.   Sliding myself sluggishly into the passenger side, I pulled the seatbelt slowly across my trembling torso, holding my breath long enough to allow my shaky hands to plug it in.   We, and I use the word deliberately,  were ready and raring to go!

Into first gear we pulled away gently without jumping or stalling, the car speeded up fractionally and was moved to second gear.   My breath held; I could hear my heart pounding as I realised we were coming to a junction. My brain screamed slow down as I glanced at the speedometer, there must be a mistake we were nearly doing 12 miles an hour – reminder to oneself – get it checked out.   Even the feeling of slowing was not strong enough for my body not to brace its self and my right leg to force the imaginary brake pedal nearly through the floor.   We came to a stop.

We checked both ways for any other soul who might be drifting along these dark desultory drives before pulling out of the junction smooth and slickly.   Ignoring my consider learning to lose controlsqueaky advice to do a few more turns of the empty roads No 1 Son took me on a tour of the town.   He dipped his lights at the appropriate times not blinding the oncoming drivers.  He waited patiently as the red traffic light gave me a moment’s breathing space.  He allowed the other driver who had now idea which way he was coming off the roundabout to make his choice before following him round to our exit.   We made it home to the waiting arms of the rest of the family and the place I am in most control.

In the month he has been learning to drive I have been coerced into allowing him to drive me regularly interspersed with the lessons from the expert.  I have even permitted him to transport the whole family together; although Sexy Sporty Dad being so much calmer and relaxed is the passenger while I protect the unconcerned two in the back.  The roads round the Peak District during our Christmas holiday, so narrow with stone walls either side or deep ravines over the edge of the ditches provided a challenge for me in letting go, while the parking in the supermarket car park will forever be too much for my control to relinquish.  I don’t even like doing that!  In fact not even Sexy Sporty Dad parks safely enough for me.

So if you happen to be out and about and encounter the big red L emblazoned on the car in front or behind, spare a thought for the passenger;  it just could be me surrendering my authority.

 

Tiggy

Check out my cooking blog at Teatime Treats with Tiggy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Bacon and Leek Bake

Posted on January 1, 2013 by Tiggy Hayes


This is a very simple bake that we had as a main course but would work equally well as a side dish if you lessened the bacon,  I would probably use small lardons.   Very popular and deliciously rich.

Ingredients
Olive oil
Bacon cut into bite size pieces
Onion – chopped
Leeks – sliced
Garlic – chopped very finely
Cream – single is fine for this



Heat some of the olive oil and fry the bacon till it is well cooked




Remove from the pan into a roasting dish.  Add the onion to the now empty pan with the remainder of the olive oil.




As the onion softens add in the leeks on a low heat, continue to stir them and break up any bits still in rounds.

Sprinkle the garlic over this as you stir



Meanwhile cut the potatoes into chunky slices and add them tIo a pot of already boiling water.  You want them just softening so keep an eye on them, they can become mash very quickly.


When the leeks are cooked add them to the bacon and then drain the potatoes before adding them.  Cover the mixture with cream and stir well.

Pop in a hot oven for half an hour and serve piping hot with warm crunchy bread and a crisp salad or vegetables of your choice.



There is a slimmers version to this; Cook in the oven with chicken or vegetable stock instead of the cream, then just before serving add some fromage frais and stir well to give it that rich creaminess without the calories.

Other additions could be cheese grated over the top for added flavour although these flavours do blend very well together and don’t necessarily need the extra.  


Enjoy and let me know what other combinations you can come up with.

Tiggy

Find out what I am up to in my other blog  Tiggy Hayes



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Christmas Cheer

Posted on December 29, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes

Weeks of preparation to reach this point, nothing left to chance to make this the best ever Christmas for my boys.  The work is done, the presents all bought and wrapped and  now we can enjoy the festivities.   A battle of giants has been fighting it out to claim the Christmas number one ratings with writers, producers and directors working hard for months to outdo each other with their showcase Christmas production.

We settle down for the final ever episode of Merlin; comfortable in the knowledge that Merlin will finally overcome the dark magic of  the once dear sweet innocent Morgana and Arthur will eventually discover Merlin’s secret then allow magic to return to the kingdom of Camelot.  Too much hatred, violence and evil had happened over the years to allow even a flicker of hope that Morgana will turn back to the good side.  However her brooding flashes of  evil, her sensual good looks and body-hugging dresses had coaxed many a dad to sit and enjoy the show with his children on a Saturday evening.

In the words of middle Son, who left the room angry and unimpressed with the BBC “What is the point?”  Words I might even utter myself;  allowing Arthur to die in the last scenes was not on the schedule of Christmas indulgences.  As a devotee of the program aimed at children  I felt the ending too brutal. We have seen the young Merlin arrive in Camelot unaware of his hidden powers, he has grown in magic and loyalty to the Pendragon’s despite their fear and intolerance of magic, to his final acceptance of the accolade of greatest sorcerer to ever live.  Here in the final episode could we not have a happy ever after.  Could Merlin with all his powers save his king one final time.   Could Arthur return to Camelot and allow magic to once again  be practised.  There were unanswered questions left hanging which can not now be remedied.   Arthur never knew, and I am not sure we ever heard the full story of the bargain with magic Uther entered; resulting in the loss of his wife in exchange for Arthur’s birth.  A back story which may have helped Arthur understand his father’s attitude and changed his attitude.

They could have kept the ending with the old Merlin still traveling modern  roads but left Gwen and Arthur together in earlier times.    The legend may state that Mordred kills Arthur but it also says that Morgana despite her enmity towards Guienevere was the one to take him to Avalon to heal him.     The program had veered far enough away from the legend that to leave them in our imaginations living happily ever after together would have brought a closure of peace and goodwill over this Christmas season, for my children at least.

Maybe the Christmas day Dr Who would placate my saddened children and replace my tear filled eyes with a sparkle.  Again great fans of the time traveller and still saddened by the end of the last series, we were optimistic for a new companion to  join the Dr.  Cast back again in time the Dr appeared in sombre mood as he refuses to help this planet of ours.   Scared of commitment following the sad loss of Amy and Rory at the end of the last series, he hides himself away on a cloud just above the curious goings on in the dated dismal streets below.  Goings on that include a green lizard lady and a soltarian warrior taking to the everyday town to  investigate strange events.

Predictably there is a girl who follows the doctor and convinces him to save the world, also predictably she tugs at both his hearts’ strings and is given the key to the tardis.   Back on course for a miraculous saving of the world followed by them travelling away to live happy every after or at least save other lesser known planets.

No!

The final scenes are at the grave side of the poor unfortunate girl who had ensnared the Dr back to his usual altruistic self.   I realise from the trailer and the Dr’s upbeat mood at the graveside that this is part of a deeper story which will see Clara reappear in future episodes as his sidekick.   In the reworked words of Christopher Ecclestone’s Dr “for once why can’t everybody live”

As we settle down for the evening with plates of snacks and nibbles, the children enjoying their hot chocolates and yet more sweets.  Dabbing the dampened tracks of my tears the evening calls for a bit of seasonal cheer as we tune into Call the Midwife, hoping for a more upbeat cheery ending.   We are not to be disappointed there is a happy ending; the girl gets to keep her baby, the old woman is remarkably cleaned and treated having come to terms with her tragic past.  Now able to help sew the wonderfully detailed costumes for the scouts and brownies as they put on their seasonal production of the nativity; everyone is happy.  My eyes still appear somewhat dampened but the sparkle is working its way through.

I do however wonder about the sense of putting on such graphic viewing at such prime time. I don’t remember this level of explicitness in the series normally.  Wonderful as it is for a baby to come into this world healthy and alive, to show it at such a prime time when children may still be watching is a little audacious.  No 1 Son’s comment “who would ever have a baby this is absolutely disgusting!”

By the end of the program and finally our happy ending all three boys had surreptitiously vacated the room and gone to find entertainment of their own in other rooms.   Even Sexy Sporty Dad had retreated to the kitchen for tea and further nibbles.

So I am left to indulge in my favourite Downton Abbey.  Settling in to a comfy seat and warmed by the flames of the fire I cast my mind back to the closing scenes last Christmas where Mary and Matthew finally after two series actually get together as the snow settles in front of the magnificent lit Abbey; a warm glow creeps over me in anticipation.

Having lost Sybil earlier in the series, it is worrying as Mary has twinges throughout the program. Surely they could not repeat the emotive loss.  Have the family and their loyal watchers not been through enough, are we not entitled to a little bit of joyous emotion on this festive night.  My heart lifts as I watch the antics of the upstairs and downstairs relationships now merging together, losing the class distinction that was once so sharp.  As the final minutes of the program climax we are rewarded with the safe delivery of  Matthew’s long anticipated son and heir.  A second joyous moment in the evening’s  television viewing. The relief is palpable, at last my happy Christmas cheer, the Downton family are rejoicing, their staff relieved and Mary’s smile is contagious as my eyes water and my smile widens.

No!

It is not to be. Moments later we leave Downton with the image of Matthew lying dead under his overturned car;  news not yet divulged to the cast.  Another beloved character killed off this Christmas season.  Trying to convince my disbelieving children that the red eyes and sniffs are only part of this never ending cold, I finally leave the my warm cosy chair to find a good book.

Is the news of floods and car accidents, war torn Afghanistan and Syria not sad enough.  Please can we have some happy programs.  What happened to the myth – go out on a high note,  yes we know with period dramas all the characters will be old and wrinkled if not dead by now.  We also know that they are only characters and if you watch them on I-player they will be alive again but so much anticipation and expectation are channelled into the Christmas scheduling of treasured favourites that negativity is not really required.

I note that another old favourite is revisiting our screens for one final time this coming weekend.  Dare I tell the children that Wild at Heart is back.   I have a forlorn feeling low down that the outcome may not be a happy one.  The memory of Danny returning to Leopards Den at the end of the last series was a great ending and one that should have lived in our hearts forever.

I hope your Christmas was filled with good cheer and happy emotions, surrounded by the ones you love and cherish.  Hopefully the only sadness tugging at your heartstrings this season was like mine lived out through the television.

Tiggy

Check out my cooking blog at Teatime Treats with Tiggy

 

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Festive Frolics

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes

“Are we there yet?”

Simple words! They strike a chord, within the memory of any parent, who has travelled with children.  This Christmas we decided to break with tradition and travel up to Sexy Sporty Dad’s family for the festive season.  Rather than impose our whole family on any one person or family during this chaotic period we have taken a gamble against bad weather and booked a cottage deep in the heart of the Peak District.

It took a near military operation to be ready and organised to leave on time.

As the end of term bounded towards us I needed to find time to fit in a final week of school celebrations; nativity plays, and carol services all requiring our attendance.  A works lunch, and evening celebration of Christmas cheer; have all found space on to the once clear calendar.  Two poorly children laid low to the various bugs doing the rounds needing to be looked after and cossetted back to full health in time for the weekend trip added to the pressures.

Like every other family we had to meet up with family and relatives to transfer presents before the big day. Yet another trip to be pencilled in and the only time left to drop other items en-route to all the people we will not be seeing for at least a week.

Late at night or first thing in the morning I am moulded into my computer chair chasing online presents, long since ordered; now lost in the post.  Do I buy alternatives or another one the same from a different supplier? What exactly will I do with a second one, if they both now turn up?  Should I send it direct to the recipient as the item cannot possible arrive here before we leave.

A small card left amidst the mountain of Christmas cards from today’s postman greets me as I climb through the front door.  We tried to deliver but you were out; we have taken it away again… please call us to re-arrange delivery between 9 and 1.

I call immediately but the office is already closed, please try later.  I call first thing in the morning only to discover my parcel is already out on the delivery van, he will be with me sometime before 1pm. I try to explain that I am at work and will not be home but it can be left with a neighbour?  Certainly not madam it is for delivery to you and needs your signature!

Whatever it is do I really need this hassle.  I don’t even know what I am expecting that is that big.

I get home to discover the parcel has been signed for and delivered to a kind neighbour.  Four bicycle racks for the roof of the car have arrived; to aid Father Christmas with transporting two Christmas bikes.  We need the two extra for Sexy Sporty Dad and No 1 Son so they too can bring their bikes.    I breathe a long deep thankful sigh that five just could not fit on top of the car. I will be spared the cold, damp, effort of keeping up with them all, along the muddy, potholed, old railway lines trails that cut across the Peaks of Derbyshire.

Have we got enough clothes, will it be snowing, raining or is there any slight possibility of seeing any sun.  I wash, dry and iron on a daily basis each load planned to be the final holiday batch only to be presented with another pile of favourites not added to the already heaving wash basket.  Have we all got walking boots and do they all still fit, these boys grow so quickly we seem to be continually replacing them.  This is not the time of year to be buying shoes when there is so much else to be bought.

Another update on the Tesco shop, sensibly I booked them to arrive with all our food shopping late in the evening of our arrival.   This is the third time that I have remembered something extra to add then changed my mind about other items.  How much will we drink?  How many meals will we be eating out with family?  What will we doing about lunches, should I buy for them?

Most evenings I manage to wrap a few more of the ever increasing pile of presents getting them ready for delivery.  Such a shame all the elves in the world are busy helping Father Christmas as I could do with a little help myself.   The meagre pile for one child against the other worries me.  Careful budgeting has equalled itself three ways, but the size of the presents does not balance.  Will one child feel hard done by; fairness and replicating presents no longer works as they develop at their individual ages.  So the pile stands, ready packed for the journey.

And we are off, up early and filled to the brim in two cars as we cannot fit luggage, presents and children in one car.  I am permitted to take my new toy; an opportunity for me to show it off and make more wives jealous and more husbands question the wisdom of my husband’s precedence.  It may only take two of us and the odd bag but it relieves the space limitations in the other car and I follow at a sedate pace sure in the knowledge I will not be speeding as I follow the four bicycles along the motorway.

“Are we there yet?”

Six hours on the road and “Yes we are there”!

Five nights and we shall do it all again in reverse.
I wish you all a very happy, safe and peaceful festive season.

Tiggy

Check out my cooking blog at Teatime Treats with Tiggy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Spicy Roast Beef

Posted on December 12, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes

Sunday Lunch is the highlight of the week and the time when I like to push the boat out a little bit.

Sometimes I will roll my Beef in Mustard and cook it like that but I have taken to doing it this way instead.   There is no getting away from the fact the crust is spicy, so cut off this for fussy eaters.  It surprised me when two of my very fussy children tried this and loved it; they kept returning for more.

I have added my amounts in but this will vary  on who and how many you are feeding, how spicy you like your meat and how big the joint is.  These measurements are a good guideline to try for the first time you spice up your Beef then you can adapt accordingly.

Ingredients 
Mixed peppercorns 1 tbsp 
Mustard Seeds 1 tbsp
Fennel Seeds  1tsp
Red Onions cut into quarters 
Joint of Beef
Olive Oil

Gravy
Flour
Stock Cube
Red currant Jelly (although I had run out and used Chill Jam instead)
good pouring of Red Wine


It is so simple for such a deep pervasion of subtle spices



Crush the peppercorns then add the mustard seeds and fennel seeds crushing them as well.

Cover the joint of Beef with oil.

Spread the peppercorn mix over a plate or roasting dish and roll the oiled joint in the mix.

Leave this for a few hours if you can or even overnight in the Fridge (you could put it in a bag)

Before you are ready to cook take the beef from the fridge so it can acclimatise to the temperature of the room.




Rest the Beef on the onions so any juices drip down.




Cook in  a hot oven 200°C / Gas 6  for about an hour (depending on weight, preference rare or well done –  I like very rare the rest of the family prefer very well done an hour was more to my liking than theirs)

Take the meat out and let it rest for at least 30 minutes – if any longer cover with Silver foil to keep the heat.

Meanwhile using the onions and all the delicious scrapings in the pan.  Mix in a spoonful of flour which has been mixed with water.   Stir it in till there are no lumps of flour.

Add the stock cube, redcurrant jelly and the wine and mix well; over the heat.  If like me you use pampered chef stoneware which cannot have direct heat I put it in the oven remembering to stir regularly.

Serve with delicious Yorkshire Puddings, Roast potatoes and a selection of veg.  I confess to hide all the seeds and onions I strained the gravy before taking it to the table, but some tastes might enjoy the bits still in the gravy

I used the left overs for sandwich fillings and cold meat platters, the kick added to the beef was delicious but not at all overpowering.


Enjoy,  do you add anything else to your joints – let me have a try?


Tiggy

Find out what I am up to in my other blog  Tiggy Hayes

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Curly Kale

Posted on December 4, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes


I like my vegetable side dishes but so often to entertain the pallets of young unadventurous children I end up serving boring boiled veg day in, day out.    If I take the time and effort to produce a really nice meal it is good to have some side dishes that compliment the meal.  

This is definitely a dish to keep mum about the ingredients when talking to the children; yet it all disappeared so quickly.  We were having slow roasted lamb which had been infused with garlic and rosemary wrapped in anchovy fillets and the combinations worked really well.

Ingredients 
Butter
Olive Oil
Kale (stalks removed – cabbage or greens would work as well)
Onions sliced 
Garlic – chopped finely
Anchovy fillets – chopped very finely



Heat the butter with the oil to prevent it from burning. 

Add the onions and garlic and soften 



Chop the anchovy fillets very finely; don’t worry nobody will know you have them in there.  Add to the pan.



Meanwhile blanch the kale in boiling water for a minute or so.  This keeps the colour vibrant and rich and does not lose any goodness in over boiling.



Drain and add to the onion pan –  toss quickly with all the ingredients and turn into serving dish.




Both the garlic and anchovies are invisibly infused within the soft almost caramelised onions but they give a richness of taste with no salt required.

Give this a try.  See how it goes down particularly with the lamb or a fish dish would be good.

 Enjoy and let me know what other combinations you can come up with.

Tiggy

Find out what I am up to in my other blog  Tiggy Hayes





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Party Pranks

Posted on December 3, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes

“Can I have a party?”

Five simple words, that struck horror into my soul.  Long gone are the days of jelly and ice-cream with pass the parcel; I had spent hours earlier wrapping.    Now a muffled memory is the magic show which turned peaches into goldfish, even the three fish have finally departed to a heavenly goldfish bowl in the sky.   The waterpark with a KFC just isn’t cool any longer and the idea of a paintballing or karting party does not appeal to 17 year olds.

Thinking I had weeks to get out of this one I waved the idea from my mind like a bad smell wafting through the kitchen.   Just like the odorous aroma it continued to return.   Our nightly discussions over our meal took on an wave of repetitiveness.

Can I have a party?

No?

Why not?

‘Because I say so’ no longer holds the same air of authority when your son is approaching 17 and stands a foot taller than you.   Sexy Sporty Dad and I had to come up with a stronger objection than that and quickly.

What is the real objection here; why are we scared of allowing a group of hormonal, drunk and emotional teenagers take over our home and kitchen for a night?  They might be sick.  They might break or destroy something precious like the house.  They may get themselves into trouble or injured and being hormonal drunk and emotional would probably not know how to deal with it.

You hear on the news about children having parties and the house being wrecked or someone taking something they shouldn’t even have access to and becoming seriously ill.   Are we being harsh tarring our son with the same brush as those other children who absent minded allowed their secret party publicised and then were unable to stop the devastation as they were overrun with professional party demolishers.

I attended a charity ball some while ago now.  I had spent many weeks convincing friends and colleagues to join one of my tables for a wonderful evening of eating, drinking and merriment.  As we all sat down one couple turned to another and said thanks for having our son for the evening.  A bemused look appeared on their faces until it was explained their kind son had invited the boy to spend the evening at the his house.

Alarm bells did not ring until another couple arrived after the first course and mentioned that theytoo had stopped at the party to control some over zealous party goers as they dropped their son at the same house.   It was the comment about bravery allowing the party while they were out  that proved to be the trigger to galvanise him.  He fled the table returning home to a very loud and uncontrolled party.   We saved his main course and pudding, he managed to get back again for coffee, biscuits and the main merriment.    The now cancelled party at home was being cleaned up by his son and the remaining sons from our group who were now all suitably chastised.

No 1 Son was at least asking to have his party and I knew he seemed to be on a circuit of partying since his GCSEs last summer.  It was a small group of about 20 who were working round the houses in some sort of rite of passage.   The clue was that the group had been allowed back to the houses even after the party had happened.

Of course I at that age attended parties regularly.  I had my own circle of friends who all attended the more formal fundraising events and my right of passage was assured as we drank a little too much, partied too much and learnt quickly how to disguise a hangover from our parents.

Something still prevented my agreement to this transition through teenagedom.

Is it that I remember my party held at home as a teenager.  My parents were away for the weekend, a rare event in itself, I was looking after not only the house but some of my siblings as well.  We decided to invite a few well chosen friends over for the evening with a few beers and wine.

The night went well, everybody enjoyed themselves.  There were no broken glasses, no ruined masterpieces and the inherited family furniture had no carvings.  In the words of every Scooby-Do criminal “we would have gotten away with it except for the pesky dog”.

after party blues

after party blues

Don’t ask!

I feigned serious concern to the dog’s wellbeing after all maybe she had contracted the infamous blue doggy ringworm.  Had she had a serious allergic reaction to the blueberry pie she may have helped herself to. Or maybe the mushrooms around the trees she liked to play near really magic : blue magic.

My bewildered parents may not have guessed the whole range of our duplicity had one of my younger siblings not dubbed us in.    The same sibling whose friends I had not allowed to the party on the grounds they could not get to our house out in the back of beyond and I was not spending the night driving them to and from when I had been given the remit of staying and looking after the house.

I use the nagging tactic a lot.  No 1 Son has watched me hassle, harass and hound people to attend fundraisers or to support my attempts to raise money for his team.  He has grown up watching my determination, deviousness and dedication to a cause so inevitably he was going to use the same tactics with us.

We agreed to the party on condition.   It was invitation only and not publicised on social media.  The house was clean before and after.  Nobody smoked inside and no-one was sick.  Middle Son was invited.

My good friend Natty invited us around for the evening and mini son was allowed to stay the night with her.  With a bottle of wine and trepidation we were ushered smartly out of the back door as people began arriving at the front.  I did mention to the surrounding neighbours that there was a party and if there was any problem to call us.

The wonderful thing about Natty is not only is she a very good friend she is also one of my very close neighbours and hence Mini Son and Mini Nat watched the party from an upstairs window with running commentary on who was in, who was out and what they were drinking.  Unless we actually stood outside her front door we could not hear the noise or chatter.

We drank, debated and discussed the merits of home parties before finally dozing. We decided to return to our own beds.  Sneaking, like gatecrashers through our front door we climbed the stairs to bed about 12.30 in the morning.    At 2am I sent a text to Middle Son who was the only person aware of our return.

“please turn music down or I will have to turn it off”

The noise became a low rumble and I fell asleep only to be woken early the next morning to find youngsters busy tidying my house for me.   The only tell-tale signs of a party

empties

empties

were a table full of empties and the fact that the house was so tidy.

Tucking into my evening meal last night I coughed and choked on a chipolata when No 1 Son asked

“Can I have a new year’s eve party?”

Tiggy

Check out my cooking blog at Teatime Treats with Tiggy

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Chillaxing

Posted on November 28, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes

When asked recently what I did for leisure I had to really think.  I don’t have a leisure past time.   I dutifully watch No 1 Son or Middle Son play rugby because they want to play, not because I gain any pleasure seeing my child or anyone else’s throwing themselves at each other in a frenzy of force.   I stand and cheer on the wet soggy sidelines, jumping up and down not through emotion but cold, as Mini Son’s football team score another goal.  I meet Sexy Sporty Dad for coffee after he has completed his weekly trial of cycling.   None of these are my sporting choices.

I don’t have a leisure sport.  In the summer when all the boys traipse off to the harbour to sail the boats, I pack the picnic, I hold the ropes then I stand thigh high in cold water to launch the boats.   Later I sit lonely and lost, pretending to read, casting surreptitious looks over the horizon to check they are all safe.  I have tried pilates and power plating, I have danced through zumba and aerobics, I have swum and cycled the length of Britain, but none of these have I done for pleasure.  Exercise is good for me; they say and so I dutifully put my body through the painful experiences expecting immediate long lasting benefits.  I am still waiting .

I do however steal an hour each morning before the world has woken, for writing.  I am quite selfish with my hour and anyone daring to approach me before the hour of 7 O’clock is risking two full barrel loads of pent up missive which should by rights be making its way to the page.     I do have to admit that I am finding writing a struggle at the moment.  I am not out of ideas; quite the opposite the concepts and notions constantly head butt each other in a duelling dance around the depths of my inner cortex; but I am out of time.

A blank screen is a scary site in any scenario particularly when I claim to be a writer.   I have spent time this week creating a magazine article, running No 1 Son to and fro with his sports activities followed by an early morning meet to send him off to Barcelona with his school.   Mini Son has after school matches and a swimming gala to attend and then Middle Son requires lifts to and from his friends because the weather is just too wet.    I have prepared meals on time for everyone to eat.  I have even managed to squeeze in the odd bit of shopping, food of course, washing and general tidying.   In between times I have gone to work as well.   What I haven’t been able to find is the extra time to write for the pleasure of writing .

Stop the world I want to get off.

So I did!  I joined a group of my close friends and we took ourselves to a Spa for a complete chillax day of just laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Six of us managed to escape our manic worlds and off we all went.  We had in common; our 16 year old sons some already turning 17 had all played youth Rugby together.  These were friends that had seen each other through our sons’ successes, battles on and off the pitch, injuries, and growing up.

For the whole day time stood still.    We talked about us, we learnt things from each other that we did not know despite knowing every breath their boys took.  We laughed like carefree children who do not have all the worries of the world upon their shoulders.  We did nothing; well that is not strictly true we did sit and float and steam but we relaxed.

Chill out at the Spa

Relaxing is not an activity I find easy to accomplish.  My life obviously allows little me time.    I have never been a good sleeper and this does not seem to get better with age.  Letting my worries and cares stay firmly at home while I go out and have fun is a difficult and unusual occurrence.  However with help from some just as busy friends we did all enjoy the day and we had fantastic fun.

I think I have found a pastime that might appeal to me.   I think I must work at taking the time out to enjoy these excursions.   The peace and slow pace has given me much to contemplate and even more ideas are sprouting through the medulla to grow into short stories, novels and articles.   The mind is clear of mundane rituals and brimming with a world of luxury and exoticism waiting to branch out and create a new sapling of creativity.

This is not a past time that will be repeated too often but one I will certainly look forward to again.  In the meantime I will rise early tomorrow and transfer all my excited threads of stories to the screen in front of me.  Who knows one day they might just be the beginnings of the next big best seller.

Stop your world for just one day and enjoy being you.

Tiggy

Check out my cooking blog at Teatime Treats with Tiggy

 

 

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Caramelised Apple Pie

Posted on November 26, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes

Sunday lunch is when I put effort into a pudding and with the wind and rain lashing down at the moment a good old fashioned warming pie goes down so well. This would make just as popular crumble but I had some puff pastry left over. 

Rather than just sprinkling with a bit of sugar I like to caramelise the sugar first then coat all apples in the mixture softening them as they absorb the sweetness.

Ingredients
Brown Sugar
dash of Water
Sprinkling of Cinnamon
Nutmeg  a good grating 
Cooking Apples
Pastry – shop bought is fine
Beaten Egg for glazing 


In a heavy pan add the brown sugar with a dash of water and put on a high heat.




Add the Cinnamon and Nutmeg and let it boil before reducing the heat.






As it reduces add the sliced apple pieces  coating them well in the syrup.

Allow apples to begin to soften 

Transfer to pie dish



Cover with pastry, allowing a few steam holes and decorate with any left over pastry.







Brush the egg wash over the pastry.  I also like to add a sprinkling of brown sugar to sweeten the pastry slightly.



Bake in a medium hot oven for 25 – 30 mins depending on your oven.  The pastry will turn a golden brown.

Serve with Custard, Cream or even Ice Cream and watch the pie disappear off the dish.  A very popular pudding in our house which I use with a crumble topping sometimes.

Enjoy and let me know what other combinations you can come up with.

Tiggy

Find out what I am up to in my other blog  Tiggy Hayes



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Steak and Ale Pie

Posted on November 15, 2012 by Tiggy Hayes




As the weather turns cold and the nights draw in our tastes turn to warming food from our childhoods.  What is better than a steaming hot home baked pie to cast your taste buds back to the care free days of Mother’s cooking.

This particular day I picked up some good steak and a bottle of Ale from the supermarket and the pie was gone in minutes.

Ingredients 

Steak or Stewing Beef  cut into bite size pieces 
flour 
salt and pepper
sprigs of Thyme 
onions chopped finely 
Ale 
Butter
Mushrooms
Pastry –  I cheated and used shop bought plus egg or milk for glazing



I use a new plastic bag for preparing the meat.  I find them great for marinades as well.

   
Fill the bag with a generous couple of spoons of flour – plain is good.    This is one place where I make a point of adding salt and pepper.  I also threw in a couple of Thyme sprigs to bring out the flavour of the beef.


Add the meat and toss it around well, making sure all the little mouthfuls have some flour on them.

Meanwhile in a little butter fry the onions until they are soft 



Add in the pre-floured steak and mix well.  

It becomes quite gloopy so keep stirring till the meat is lightly browned.

   
Slowly pour in the ale.  I like to use a good quality one and usually try and get a fun named one.  It is great to get more than one bottle and drink with dinner as they compliment each other well.

Let the mixture slowly come to the boil stirring often so nothing is allowed to stick to the pan base and burn.   As soon as it is bubbling turn the heat down and let it simmer for a while.  Add the mushrooms but remember to keep stirring often though.

If you feel it is too dry add a little water.  You need it to have some liquid left to cook in while in the oven.

You can leave it to cool slightly as you roll out the pastry.  This does not have to be beautifully exact; the more rustic the more it will evoke childhood memories.  

Cover the pie  and use the odd bits of pastry to decorate.   Cut a few steam holes through the pastry.  Beating the egg or using milk glaze the top of the pastry.

Bake in the oven for about 30 minutes depending on your oven. The pastry will turn a golden brown and you will see the mixture underneath bubbling and trying to break through the cover.

Serve with lots of brightly coloured vegetables and some mash potatoes.  If you wish to add a gravy keep some of the ale back and use this to enhance the flavour.

Warming and popular and you can add kidney (take out the mushrooms), try adding bacon lardons.  Change the meat to chicken and add leeks or  mushrooms again – use white wine with this.  With game dishes making a re-appearance on dinner menus try some venison or rabbit.  Let me know what you enjoy.

  

Tiggy

Find out what I am up to in my other blog  Dawn Chorus

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