Posts Tagged ‘Other Bloggers’
When strange things happen, are you going round the twist?
Way back in Primary School when I was just a wee bonnie lass, on a real scorcher of a day the library would allow students into the air-conditioned AV Room, where we would sit in the dark watching episodes from the popular-at-the-time-ABC-show, Round the Twist. It was one of my favourite programs, and even now I’m tempted to purchase the DVDs. But only the first two series – before Paul Jennings left.
One particular episode that really stuck with me, possibly because I watched it over and over between lunchtimes in the library and afternoons with ABC, was “Grandad’s Gifts“; even now, the sight of lemons takes me back. There was such beauty in this episode, and for a program that was largely a comedy, it invoked a real sadness in me. I don’t know if it was the poetic justice of it all, or if it was Linda’s “The fox’s eyes.. he just came back to life.. and now he’ll never see… I’m so sorry, Fox”, but by the time the episode finished and the lights came back on, you could be sure that I’d be wiping tears from my red, swollen eyes.
We have a lemon tree. I don’t have a fox (yes, fox, not faux) fur though. But thanks to Stephanie Alexander’s The Cook’s Companion, I do have an awesome recipe for a Gin Fizz -
Shake 45mL gin with 1 Tbsp pure icing sugar, several mint leaves and the juice of 1 lemon over several ice cubes in a shaker. Strain into a long glass and fill with soda water.
You can substitute sugar syrup for the icing sugar, but really, that’s just additional work (and more washing up!).
Mmm. A Gin Fizz would go well with Little Miss Moi’s Preserved Lemon Chicken with Parsley, Chicken and Honey, no?
Recently, I moved house. By “recently”, I mean “four months ago”, and by “moved house”, I mean “I moved out of the granny-flat/bedroom-bathroom arrangement built for me under my mother’s house, and into the 3-bedroom double-brick house that I bought with my other half”. But I digress.
While I’d banked on a new found freedom that one only really has when they can walk around in their undies in their own pad, I didn’t realise I’d discover a whole new wardrobe.
My previous lack of storage space paired with my penchant for online shopping saw packages swiftly relegated to bottom drawers or shoved on to my portable clothing rack, buckling at the weight of pretty frocks. They would escape the wrath of my six-monthly-Salvo-donations with promise to wear them before the next clean out, after which I’d thrust them back in to the depths of Narnia. And so the cycle would continue.
It wasn’t until I opened the suitcases and boxes of my apparel on arrival (by “on arrival”, I mean “a day week later”) in my new home that I realised the treasures that had been buried away. There was the faint odour of mothballs, but they had escaped the Attack of the Wet Season Mould; nothing that a good dry-clean couldn’t fix.
I sauntered into work in one of my new-found frocks. “Oooh, new dress?!” Little Miss Moi questioned. “Well… You’d never believe it. In the move I found all these new outfits that I’d forgotten I had!” I exclaimed. LMM raised an eyebrow. “Really,” I continued, “This dress isn’t new. I swear. I found it in my spring-cleaning.”
A few days later I pulled out another dress that had long been forgotten. “Oh, that’s a lovely dress,” a lady at work remarked. “Yes. You know. Laundry-day,” I replied. As if that somehow explained my “new” outfit. Conversation is always a little awkward in the bathroom.