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Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag... Him Indoors is on my case again. Apparently on of his colleagues fell off his bike and gave himself concussion in the process. I have tried pointing out that I am unlikely to reach the speed said colleague was travelling at ever. It did nothing to stop the nagging. He has threatened to bring the damaged helmet the chap was wearing home as an incentive to get me to wear mine and has not stopped nagging since. Not that it has done anything to change my mind. I will not wear the cycling helmet which is gathering dust in the halway. He may have a point. Some protection may be better than none. After all I am not a risk taker. I always wear my seatbelt, I don't drink and drive and I have never been on a motorbike without a helmet and leathers (not that I have done it very often), I always put on a riding hat when on a horse (can't remember the last time I was on a horse either), I will not let my child on his bike without his head gear and I even add knee, elbow and wrist potection to the list when he gets the roller skates or the skateboard out, I will not go on a mountain without a minimum of equipment that sort of thing. So why is it I will not wear the stupid bit of polystyrene just for the sake of an easy life? I could claim it's because of the bad hair. Nobody would believe I was that vain, after all if I cared so much about appearance would I wear the fluorescent tabard I put on when visibility is not quite what it should be ? I could claim it is because I like the feel of the wind in my hair. After all what I like about cycling to work is that I am outdoors before sitting all day at a desk (I am not really into exercise for it's own sake) and not having a helmet sometimes feel like one of the rare unrestricted pleasures left in life. The truth is - and it may seem paradoxal at first - that I feel more vulnerable as a cyclist when I do wear a helmet (I have tried it, I am not knocking it out of hand). It gives me the impression of being a target and the sensation that car drivers are less prudent around me as if they assume that because I wear protective gear then they should be less worried about knocking me down. It's only an impression but it is a strong one which renders cycling in a very stressful experience and takes all the pleasure out of it. To be effective the helmet also needs to be well fitted and strapped tightly enough that it does not move. I find the staps uncomfortable and seem to spend a lot of time at juncion fiddling with them in a effort to minimise the discomfort instead of watching out for the other one (one of my friends used to say - There are always 2 c***ts on the road when one sets out on a car journey, make sure you watch out for the other one). I don't think it improves my safety on the road to take my eye off the ball. I have looked at all the stats trying to find arguments and counter arguments. The stats are not very useful or enlightening (most studies have been done using methodology which leaves to be desired). I wonder if I would have cared very much if they were (accidents only happen to ohers syndrome). On one of the websites I looked at there was a testimony from somebody who a few years back had been cycling down a hill at high speed only to turn a corner and plough into a car and suffer brain damage in the process. He claimed if he could go back to that day he would wear a helmet. All I could think as I read what should have been a poignant story was "In his place, if I could go back to the day of the accident, I'd slow down at the bottom of the hill and check for incoming traffic before I turned the corner" - I told you I am not a risk taker...
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1.7.04 00:45 |
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Oh dear, I have been overcome by expat mentality. After over 10 years in the UK (I have stopped counting) I thought I had avoided most of the behaviour of typical expats. For example I speak the language (I have been told I don't sound French) and my last French friend in the UK moved back to France about 5 years. Yet on Saturday something happened which showed that deep down I am not completely anglified. My weakness: food of course. On my way to work there is a butcher. In order to make viable trade from the local population the butcher is halal. Up to about a year ago the butcher's window had been as unappealing to me as the window of any other british butchers. The meat never looked like it does at "home". The cuts are different and the presentation is different. If you add the fact that a lot of my food related vocabulary was acquired before I moved I find it difficult to ask for what I actually want in English (if anyone nows how to ask in English for a steack cut "dans la poire" or "un morceau d'araignee" you are welcome to advise). A year ago the Halal butcher changed owner and I noticed the meat suddenly started looking more appealing and more familiar. I never got around to stopping to actually buy something until Saturday when I stepped in and tried to work out what the English name for merguez is. The butcher came to the rescue and started telling me in French that they would not be ready until later in the afternoon but that if I was making couscous he had some nice lamb shoulder I could have. While he was chopping and chatting I also grabbed some pain d'epice for The Boy and me. For a moment I was back at home, on any given Saturday Morning with my dad doing the weekly shopping. Meat first at the same butcher for years, then round the market to select the veg which would compliment his choices. I have to admit it felt good, real good. What next ? Am I going to start going to the French GP in Central London and send my son to the Lycee Francais next to the Consulate ? Probably not, but I'll probably carry on shopping at the halal butcher to soak in a bit of francophonie and familiar cooking. The lamb? It was nice: tasteful and melting in the mouth. Lamb Couscous (before any purist write in to complain the choice of veggies was not authentic a reminder that there are many variations and according to my friend Lila's mum and my ex-neighbour Mrs Belagoune couscous is made with the seasonal vegetables available to you and according to personal taste - there you have it) Chop a couple of onions, fry gently until transluscent, add the bits of lamb (with the bones still in), brown, add salt, pepper and ground cumin, a chopped tomato and about a tablespoon of tomatoe puree and about the same of harrisa paste (you can add more later if you like it hot). Cover with water (hot if possible). Cover and simmer gently for an hour. Meanwhile chop the vegetables in nice chunky pieces (3-4 cm - 1inch and a bit). Today I put in the last 2 small turnips from the garden. a couple of carrots, 3 good size courgettes, half a butternutt squash, a handfull of baby broadbeans whith the tough skins taken off and a tin of chick peas (rinsed). Add the veggies to the stew and simmer for an extra 1/2 hour (adjust the time according to how cooked you like your vegetables). Serve with couscous grain (if you have a couscoussier steam the grain above the simmering stew). There you have it. |
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11.7.04 22:19 |
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Mummy's not very good at shopping is she ? After years of receiving reminders from the optitian that I am due an eye test (last one was 3 years ago) and nagging from Him Indoors, I did book an appointment. Him Indoors suggested I should get a new pair of glasses as the ones I occasionally wear date from the previous prescription (about 7 years ago) and not quite to my eyesight (they have not been for 3 years and it has not bothered me) and they are a bit scratched, dated and not in the best of state. It seemed a reasonable thing to do at the time. I went to the appointment, got told off for wearing my lenses at the swimming pool. It is not a briliant idea because let's face it swimming pools are full of other people's germs and as I wear the sort of lenses you keep in for a month and sleep with it's not advised. Still, I like to see the wall it saves me from bumping into it at the end of the lane and I like to see if The Boy is still floating or if I should go and scoop him from the bottom. So I did the reasonable thing and instead of glasses I ordered some prescription goggles. I thought they were a brilliant idea and surely they would get more use than glasses wouldn't they ? Anyway, I went home and told The Boy and Him Indoors expecting cries of whoa and cool. Instead I got shaking heads, knowing looks and sighs. The Boy even declared "mummy's not very good at shopping is she ? She never buys what she should does she ?" That's me pigeonholed. Anyway, they have decided to take me back to the optician and made me try on loads of glasses until I settled on a pair and I am now the proud owner of a pair of glasses (and prescription swimming goggles) what more could a girl want. On a seperate note why is it English swimming pools don't appear to have a little mini pool of disinfectant that people have to walk through before getting to the poolside ? |
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14.7.04 00:51 |
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School is out It was The Boy's last day at school today. So to celebrate we took him to the cinema to see Shrek2 and to Pizza Hut afterwardsbecause I really could not be bothered cooking and it seemed like a good idea at the time. Shrek2 was great fun and The Boyy laughed more or less from begining to end. Him Indoors was trying to count all the film references and I was trying to work out how many of the jokes The Boy laughed out that he did not really understand. Remind me next time I go to pizza hut that if you go for a select your own toppings pizza it is not automaticaly a good idea to let your 7 year old choose. If you do you may end up with "ham, peperoni, pineapple (I should disown him for that) and tomato chunks". Unfortunately, while The Boy's holiday has started, mine hasn't o he will be going to the National Maritime Museum to see The Adventures of Tintin at Sea without me. I am feeling a bit bluesy because soon he will be going away, first to his paternal grandparents for a week and then to my parents for a fortnight. Because his grandparents live quite a way away they tend to want to see him less often than most but for longer periods. I should be happy that his paternal grandmother and I have managed to remain civil enough to organise a weeks holiday at her place every summer (not a given, trust me, when one considers our intense dislike of each other). Yet I resent the non school time he spends away from me more and more each year. Well he'll love it and he will be spoilt rotten, I suppose it's all that should matter, untill I start missing him and sulking... |
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21.7.04 00:50 |
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The devil will find work for idle hands... Since The Boy has gone to spend the summer with various grandparents the temptation has been high to slouch in front of the TV and watch some brain numbing rubbish instead of doing the usual rushing around trying to have dinner ready, homework done, day at school retold, various domestic goddessing tasks accomplished and child in bed by a decent time. Obviously Him Indoors disapproved of myself turning my brain to mush in a matter of weeks while mopping around trying to imagine what fun things my child is getting up to while away from me. He has encouraged me to take advantage of a special offer at the leisure centre. I take it summer is a quiet time for them so thay have put out a deal which includes gym and swimming pool for 6 weeks for a reasonable price. Because it includes the swimming pool it means I will use it even if I don't take to the whole gym experience. I have tried the gym for the first time today and became one of the people I normally laugh at: people who drive their car to then go and walk on a treadmill. I have also tride all the weight machines and if everybody else was laughing at me they were kind enough to do it in a manner I did not notice. I wonder if after a while I will get the same feeling as when I swim. I am not a good swimmer and my 'natural' stroke (read my only stroke) is breaststroke, however after a couple of laps concentrating on getting the breathing right, remembering to kick the feet out and only starting the arm sequence at the end of the leg sequence I get into a rhythm and face down, looking at the tiles at the bottom, I feel the body take over as it performs movements which become automatic and my brain just empties. No thinking, no constant wild train of thoughts, no analysing all the different decisions I could or should have taken in the past, no thinking about the mountain of things to do. Nothing. Pure bliss. Maybe I'll get the same high from all the repetitive activities of the gym if the bad music does not burst the bubble effect. The only downside. The stupid place has lockers which do not refund your 20p so if I go to the gym and the swimming pool and I go on the bike after work it will cost me 40p each go on top of the money already paid for the card. And I worry my hair will turn to straw if I keep bathing it in chlolinated water. At least my prescription goggles are getting some use.
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25.7.04 22:36 |
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Rest in peace Our neighbour died this morning, peacefully in hospital (according to the staff there- but I expect they rarely say to bereaved relatives that sombody died very agitated because they were in a great deal of pain). We have always known him to be poorly and house bound (breathing trouble). His wife is now going to join the other recent widows living on our road (2 other ladies have lost their husbands this year). I wonder if they will be able to give her comfort. Outwardly she seems to be coping admirably and has thanked everybody for their offers of help (he was a very community minded gentleman and most neighbours would like to repay all the favours he has done throughout the year). Our thoughts are with her and we hope she finds a way to not worry so much about his large family decending for he funeral. Then again maybe the worry over trivial matters like where to hold the after funeral does keep her mind from thinking about all she has lost. |
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30.7.04 00:54 |
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