Archive for the ‘Journal’ Category

Oliver Postgate

Wednesday, December 10th, 2008

It is with great sadness that I read about the death of Oliver Postgate yesterday. Creating TV shows for children for over 20 years, he created many of Generation X’s favourite teatime programmes. The Clangers, Ivor the Engine, and Noggin the Nog were created by Postgate and his puppeteer partner Peter Firmin, but it will be for the pink saggy old cloth cat that he will be most remembered.

Bagpuss was my most favourite TV programme when I was a boy, and I have fond memories of the 13 episodes that Firmin and Postage made. And, although I haven’t watched them for years, I can guarantee that they will have stood the test of time. Gentle tales of make do and mend were the order of the day in 1974, which, given the current economic climate, is just one of the reasons why they are still relevant today.

Rather sadly, a whole generation of children has missed out on this man’s marvellous creations and stories. In the modern age, most animation is now created by computer, whereas the Firmin and Postgate team used painfully slow stop-start techniques, which suited their tales well. And, while the rights to some of Postgate’s characters have been sold to bring to a new generation, the mended and fixed versions for the digital age won’t be anywhere near as endearing as those original classics of 30 years ago.

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Luke and Emilie’s wedding

Monday, December 8th, 2008

You know you’re somewhere special when there’s a string quartet, a list of presidents on the grand staircase wall, and lots of plaster stuccoed pillars. On Saturday we found ourselves at the Royal Society of Arts in John Adam Street, London, by invitation of Luke and Emilie to celebrate their wedding.

It was very special day. There really couldn’t be a much better venue, and as the families had almost hired it out exclusively, the guests had the run of the place. The ceremony itself was held in the Grand Room – which was as grand as it sounded – and included beautifully romantic readings in both English and French, as Emilie’s mother’s side of the family descend from across the Channel.

From there, there were pre-dinner drinks in the vaults, and then the celebratory meal in the Benjamin Franklin room upstairs. The meal was delicious; just the right amount of each course to make you feel that you’d enough, but also to make you look forward to the next dish that followed.

And what a feast it was. There was thinly-sliced tuna carpaccio with a pickled walnut dressing to start, pork and cider sausages with parsley mash and a redcurrant jus to follow, and baked lemon curd cheesecake with kumquat marmalade to finish. Coffee and chocolates were the refreshments and palette cleansers of choice.

Washed down with lots of white wine and champagne, the wedding cakes broke with English traditions and looked delicious, too. One was made of cheese rounds, and along with a traditional French croquembouche (a dessert of pyramid crème-filled pastry puffs decorated with a caramel glaze), was enjoyed at the after-dinner reception.

Just before coffee, we had memory-tinged speeches by Emilie’s dad, and Luke’s best men, all of whom reflected on the individuals that made up the happy couple, and the new pairing that they made together, as well as telling us some of the humorous tales that had made up their four-year story so far.

The waiting staff’s timing was impeccable, and the whole event was very well run, the RSA’s staff just moving things along at exactly the right pace. Full of bubbly, food, and wine, we said our goodbyes before the disco (to Kathryn ’s chagrin) and left just after 10pm, to wend our way back to the hotel at King’s Cross.

Stepping out into the chilly night air, we strolled though Covent Garden, stopping to take a look at the LED icicle lights. Reflecting on what a special day the happy couple and guests alike had enjoyed, we thought about the twists and turns that had brought both us and our now married friends to the places where we all now are, more than happy where that place is.

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Brewing beer at home: Woodforde’s Great Eastern Ale

Friday, November 28th, 2008

Pleased with our first attempt at brewing beer at home, we started another fermenter’s worth last weekend. This time around, we’re brewing a Woodforde Real Ale Kit, and as we ride the trains five days a week, we thought Great Eastern Ale particularly apt.

With no sugar to add (it’s already included in the concentrate), this kit and the process is much simpler than the one which gave us such good results last time. The added airlock from the wine fermenter means we should be able to keep a more accurate eye on it, too.

First, we sterilised the fermenter, and stood the two 1.5kg cans of tar-like concentrate in boiling water for five minutes, as directed. Pouring them into the fermenter, we added 3.5 litres (6 pints) of boiling water and topped up to 23 litres (40 pints) with cold liquid, thoroughly mixing all the contents together.

Once they had dissolved, we then added the most potent ingredient, the yeast, and left it to bubble away next to the electric radiator in the kitchen for a few days. It’s certainly been doing something, as the bubbling has been almost constant, making us wonder how we managed to make so much good golden stuff the last time we tried.

All of that was on Sunday. It’s now Friday, and sometime over the weekend we’re hoping to test the brew for the correct gravity. If it’s all right, we can then bottle it, and learning from the wine and the beer the first time around, we should have it easier when it comes to siphoning. Fingers crossed.

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Recipe: butternut squash and tofu soup

Sunday, November 23rd, 2008

We were entertaining again last night, as Will and Becs came to visit from Walthamstow. An enjoyable evening was had by all, but to push ourselves a little further and divert from our now almost traditional menu of soup, quiche and salad, followed by chocolate mousse (all easy to make and useful if you have a glut of eggs like us), I made a different soup for our starter course.

Like the roasted pepper and tomato soup I made a couple of weeks ago, this one is also packed full of vegetable goodness, and is thick and creamy, thanks to the blended tofu. Not enough people use squashes as they seem to be afraid of them, but the butternut variety gives this recipe a lovely taste and golden colour.

This recipe goes especially well with home-baked crusty bread (but it can be quite filling), and makes four hearty bowlfuls.

Ingredients
1 large onion
200g of carrots
1 butternut squash (approximately 750g to 1kg in weight)
1 slice of root ginger
600ml (1 pint) of vegetable stock
250g tofu (if frozen, defrosted)

Method
Chop the onion roughly, and the carrots and squash into large cubes. Place the onion in a large saucepan or stock pot with a little olive oil, and heat gently until soft or for 10 minutes. Add the carrots, butternut squash, ginger and stock to the pan, and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 30 minutes.

Chop the tofu into rough cubes and add to the vegetable mixture, returning the pan to the boil once more. Once boiled, simmer the mixture for a further 10 minutes. Process the whole mixture through a food processor until smooth and creamy.

Serve into warmed soup bowls, or pour back into the saucepan and leave until ready to eat.  When ready to serve, warm gently, and serve with crusty bread, stirring in a little cream if necessary. Like the roasted pepper and tomato soup, this recipe can be made in batches, bagged, and put into the freezer, providing that the tofu hasn’t been frozen before.

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Training day

Friday, November 14th, 2008

Today marks the end of an era. I’ve just completed my last journey on the train from Ipswich for the foreseeable future, as my season ticket runs out next week. Now I don’t live in the Suffolk town, my new one runs from Chelmsford to London only. So now any journeys to the flat or mum’s in Lowestoft will be made by car, ending five years of travel down the mainline from Suffolk to the capital.

No more Intercity trains (which are luxurious when compared to the old Great Eastern rolling stock which run around the rails in Essex); no more 90-minute journeys which last 15 minutes more than they should; no more hideously long delays when trains run out of steam past Chelmsford; and no more being caught in the football crowds when Ipswich Town are playing at home mid-week (the Portman Road ground used to be part of my walk to the station).

Now, further down the line, I have arguably more crowded trains in the morning (they start further down the line, and Chelmsford is pretty much the last stop before London); smaller seats (the older, less plush Great Eastern rolling stock); and a 45-minute journey most mornings, which is still 10 minutes over what it should be, providing the service arrived on time in the first place.

There are good points, too, though. That shorter journey does help, but the daily delay doesn’t. The house move and shorter journey at least means that I get home much earlier, though, which has to be a good thing. There’s also no more journeying down on to Chelmsford on a Saturday morning as I sometimes used to, as I’m already there. Will I miss the day trippers who are noisier than commuters? I don’t think so.

So, that’s it. It’s now Chelmsford living proper. It won’t be the last time I’m in Ipswich for sure, as the flat still needs to be sorted for renting. But it will be the last train journey up the line for a while. And today was the kind of day we dream of: a sunny and bright one, when we get on a quieter train in the opposite direction to everyone else, rather than the crowded and unreliable trains run by National Express East Anglia usually.

I had the laptop out for the journey up today, but just sat and relaxed on the way back. Watching the flat and big-skied East Anglian landscape speed past the window, I thought about what had changed over the last five years, and how the twist and turns of life and fate have brought me to where I am now. I couldn’t decide what music to listen to on the return journey - which is a rarity - and couldn’t really settle either, so I flicked between songs that took my fancy.

A typically good off-peak on-time journey, as we pulled into a sunny and deserted Chelmsford station, the last track that had been playing stopped. What was it? Donna Summer’s Sentimental from the late 1980s was seemingly apt at least, if nothing else.

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