A Wash Out (Or a Wash Up)

Christmas was a bit of a washout in December. Normally I post a coordinated decorating plan right down to the bon-bons...didn't happen!

For weeks I plan my hand made gifts....didn't happen!

(Recipe here)

Actually I did make a huge batch of candied peel in late winter for the gift bags but every time I went to the cupboard the shearer had been eating his way through it like a locust plague.

Work finished a few days before Christmas so at the last gasp I made batches of 

Beer and Chilli Nut Brittle

and a couple of batches of 

The Ultimate Coconut Ice

Unfortunately our old dog Bella woke a couple of days before Christmas, completely blind. I was aware her eye sight was failing in the few weeks before but this was so sudden and complete. She was left helpless disorientated and anxious. Being mostly deaf as well it was hard to comfort , console or instruct her. I had to carry my big dog up and down the steps just to toilet. She couldn't even navigate the house and was going to need 24hr supervision. She had plunged into a silent world of darkness. No wonder she was anxious. The only comfort she could find was to use her nose to seek out my towel in the bathroom. It was clear what we had to do.

I woke up Christmas day with the most incredible nausea and headache. I had to leave Craig cater for the 12 visitors and go to bed. Mum's theory is that I had a migraine. I am a person given to emotion and great passion but I wouldn't have thought histrionic. But there you have it, three days later I emerged and Christmas was over! Not a rum ball or shortbread biscuit in sight!

There was some leftovers though and with the  roast lamb bones I made stock. We ate our way through the ham another week or 10 days and I used the hock to make a beautiful stew with lentils chickpeas and new potatoes and zucchini from the garden and of course the stock. A leftover double whammy? 

Did I tell you we are growing chickpeas....but that's a story for another day.

I was overwhelmed by all your messages and love upon resuming. Sometimes blogging feels like a bit of a silent journal that gets flung out into the quiet space of the internet between the chattery lines of social media where there is so much noise. I've observed over the years how blogging has grown from  ordinary people sharing to a tool used by huge money making companies with a fleet of staff writers and stylists for every photo. Sometimes it is hard not to compare, to feel inadequate and wonder if perhaps one is not a bit irrelevant?

For now, I just listen to the voice in my head that says: I am a mother, a grandmother, a sister and a friend and I note reference points on these pages within as a guide to frugal/economical domesticity, a documentation of a dying art.