Rankish Teapants

Despite the cool, rainy weather, we headed off to Woburn today to make sure that the poor oysters that were plucked from the sea were given a nice home in our bellies.

Last year I had to hear about the Oyster Festival from other people because I had Noah on Board (though at that time he was not Noah, in fact he could have been a she for all we knew…anyway…) and although I broke a lot of the Do Not Eat Whilst Pregnant rules, I dutifully avoided the oyster.

This year, not so much.

We bundled a teething and grumpy Noah into the car (note the enthusiastic look upon his face) and made our way to Woburn.

Once we got there, we took a quick look at what was on offer and made our way to the oyster bar.

The first order was a dozen oysters and a half pint of something they called Oyster Stout. I didn’t ask if oysters featured in the drink because some things are better left unknown. That, and I wasn’t drinking it.

We wolfed them down so quickly, that by the time I remembered the camera, Lee only had two remaining…

The two lonely oysters soon joined their friends in Lee’s tummy…

By this point Noah was slightly degrumping. And by slightly, I mean that he saw that there was food and forgot to be a complete grump.. until he realised that he wasn’t allowed to suck back any creatures from the sea. Unlike the little girl (possibly 5 years old..maybe 4) who was just devouring her cup of baby octopus like it was cotton candy. I am still in awe of her, and the two kids with her that tried it based solely on how much she loved it. I am sad that I didn’t get a photo of that, but I did get a photo of some children with their mother tucking into shrimp…complete with heads..

Those shrimp/prawns came from the stall next to the oyster stand which sold our second purchase of the day, Garlic Mussels!

Mmm. Mmm. Mmm. That is the only way I can sum up the mussels that were put before me in their temporary styrofoam home accompanied by a chunk of french bread.

While I tucked in, Noah decided to ungrump as he too got to eat for the first time since we arrived there. No, not mussells… the bread.

Lee was feeling a little left out of the action and after much deliberation (or about 30 seconds of Should I? Okay, how many?) he returned to the oyster bar. After all, that’s what we were there for right?

Once again there were a dozen oysters before us and another half pint of the Oyster Stout. This time I had a sip due to over Tabascoing of one of my slippery friends, but I wasn’t too worried about the ingredients at that time, just that there was some relief to my stinging taste buds.

Lee was the warrior this time. I looked down at my six and noticed this creamy stuff in one of the shells. Lee took them up to Mr. Oyster Man and asked what in the world was going on. That is when he was given a lesson on the make-up of an oyster and given the choice to swap or swallow. He came back to me and presented the options… he added that if I didn’t want it, he’d have it. So I swapped sixes.

Apparently, I won.

He described it as creamier than usual and that I probably wouldn’t have like it, though it was not that bad. Fast forward a few hours and apparently the quarter of a coconut rum cake he later ate couldn’t kill the taste that kept coming back.

As I said, I won.

On the way in we had noticed that there was an empty stall that had a sign for Caribbean food. They were advertising patties, roti, “Trinidad” chicken, rice and peas, etc. It wasn’t open yet, but I kept watching it and waiting as the people were obviously running on West Indian Time.

I saw a man going from the stall to a van and I couldn’t tell if he was opening up or packing up. Closer inspection showed that he was in fact removing the stuff from the stand. No patties or roti for us. Boo!!!

It was alright though because it was Pimms O’Clock.

Okay, so no Pimms was had by any of us three. Instead we moved along to the parking lot behind The Inn at Woburn (where we went for Lee’s birthday last year and fell in love with the restaurant, though haven’t been able to brave it avec le bébé) where they had a couple food stands, some kiddie rides and a craft fair. At the craft fair I was about to get Lee to aid my obsession with buying ridiculous things when I decided that Noah needed a hooded sweater that was knit from 100% alpaca wool. Luckily, Lee had found a photographer who specialised in casual family shots instead. Not what you think you’ll find at an Oyster festival, but hey, we were looking to have the photos done anyway!

The craft fair was under a tent in which there was very little light. Noah, though not afraid of total darkness, seems to fear the semi-dark and was not happy in there. We exited and headed off toward the Pimms tent again as they were setting up the steel band.

We decided to stop and have a listen, much to the delight of Noah who once again had the chance to break free from the restraints of his stroller.

The steel band started up whilst I enjoyed a nose around at the people attending the Oyster Festival and the surroundings. If we had moved to Woburn instead of Milton Keynes, I am not so sure that we’d be so eager to relocate already. It is “proper” England. By that I mean that it has buildings older than my mother (hey, Milton Keynes is only two years older than my aunt, Cathy) and people were wearing wellies because they knew there was going to be hay in the Pimms tent. Woburn is great.

The looking around didn’t last long as Mr. My Gums Hurt People And I Don’t Want To Be Around Smiling People Right Now got progressively grumpier…

Aside from when Lee’s colleague walked past with his wife and son and Noah decided that he loved the wife and her glasses. All of a sudden he wanted to smile. But they were just arriving and didn’t chat long which meant we got The Grump back.

So we packed it in and strolled back to the car. Even with The Grump, we had a very good family day out; the rain pretty much stayed away once we arrived in Woburn so there was no trying to work the rain cover on the stroller or negotiating small sidewalks with one hundred umbrellas, Lee and I got our much missed oysters and Noah got fresh air and to see his first person on stilts (not that he gave a shit at all about him).

And now, if these teeth would just come through, we’d have three much happier people in the house. I can’t wait to see how much Noah and the Aching Gums are going to love waiting around in a courthouse for me to testify tomorrow.

I’m back at home after 5 days in London with my Mom, Randy, my 8 year old cousin Noah and for some of the days, Lee. In those 5 days we packed in sightseeing, eating, walking, failed attempts at going on the London Eye, serious arcade game playing, shopping and loving the life that comes with going out of the door with your bed unmade and coming home to it being all neat and tidy.

During those five days, I also celebrated the anniversary of my Mom’s life and the anniversary of my Daddy’s death. It doesn’t matter where in the world I would have spent those days because the roller coaster of emotion wouldn’t have changed.

Two years on and the pain still hurts like it was only two hours ago. I am still completely heartbroken, although Noah has worked hard at fixing it. We were in the Maple Leaf pub in Covent Garden watching the Olympic 100m final when I broke into tears. Everyone was having a good time and witnessing Usain Bolt smash the record, but the person who would have loved it most didn’t get to see it. So I cried.

I looked around and saw how much Noah was loving the interaction and attention from my Mom and Randy and it made me so happy to see how much he is loved, but at the same time it made me so sad to know that my Daddy will never get to hold him, to squeeze his fat …not chubby, fat… thighs, see the look of wonder or awe or excitement (all which can occur within 3 seconds of each other) on his face. They would have loved each other. There is no doubt in my mind.

It was a hard day, the anniversary, because of the state of my heart, and the healing still left to do, but it was a lot easier than last year, if only because I had no choice but to be completely occupied by a near 6 month old, his Kadie and Zed and his cousin Adam.

Though it was still a sad day, because aside from one text I received, no one mentioned him; no one asked if I was okay, I had no way of talking to my brothers to see if they were okay. And then it dawned on me that everyone else may have moved on, and I can’t.

Right now I am watching Noah roll all over my bed, playing some sort of game of tag with a blanket and I am so thrilled that he is as happy as he is, but I still believe that he would be even happier if he could have only had one day with my Daddy.

I know that I should be grateful that he still has his Nan and Granddad, and his Kadie and Zed who all love him so much, and I am. I know what a lucky little boy he is to be loved as much as he is by everyone in his family, but that doesn’t make it easier.

So, I did have a great time seeing everyone and loved that I got to celebrate my Momma’s birthday with her for the 4th year in a row (this time on the actual day and in England!), it is just a shame that a day of great celebration is so closely followed by the day I dread most.

At least she had a memorable day. Not many birthdays are spent riding an open top bus tour whilst feeding your grandson a map, watching a drunken fight in the middle of the street, seeing a drunken man in a child’s floatie try and break into a taxi, getting denied a ride on the London Eye and then watching your 8 year old nephew be terrorized by a “stinkin’ mime”. It may not have been the party for 90 of your friends in a nightclub that Madonna had on the same day, but at least she knows that everyone she spent her birthday with loves her and wasn’t there for the free booze.

A couple of months ago, my sister-in-law, Stacy, blogged about getting a new vacuum cleaner (a Dyson) and it evoked unimaginable excitement from some of my family members.

A couple of weeks ago Stacy blogged about getting a new barbeque (a Weber!) and that’s when the emotions were stirred within me. Let’s be honest here, I am a girl who is far more excited by food than by cleaning. That’s part of the reason I want to win the lottery and live in a hotel… daily maid service and no choice but to eat at restaurants…or 24 hour Room Service!!!!

Anyway, Stacy’s entry got me all excited about BBQ Season! As we are into June, summer should be arriving soon. We’ve had a few warm days, but not “summer” yet. Last weekend was super sunny and we headed off to Homebase (just like Home Depot or Lowes) to see if there were any deals. Right in the centre of the barbeque section was a Weber stand. We looked and touched and oohed and ahhhed and then we ACKed when we saw the prices. Sure, they’re pretty and they’re the Kings of the BBQ World, but the price wasn’t converting well. We could have bought one, but it would have been the size of a George Foreman grill on wheels. And not a Family Sized Foreman.

So we looked around and saw that there were a couple of Fiesta barbeques. Ooh, another name I knew!! I also knew that my Dad and Scott were both Fiesta owners so they couldn’t be that crap.

— I should have explained in the beginning, Lee and I have never owned a gas barbeque so we were virgins to this whole experience —

We found one that was 1/3 off and we were happy. Then we realised that there was no way that it was going to fit in my car with Noah and his stroller (we learnt this lesson when we tried to cart home a 42 inch tv and there wasn’t even a stroller in there), so we put it off until the next day.

Lee returned to Homebase last Monday to be told that they had sold out. I wasn’t buying it, but that’s because I trust no one. How could they not have it in? We needed it! We were waiting to play with it! We had waited a whole day to get the fire started and now we had to revert to our oven. What was that all about?!

Nothing was going to stop Lee on his mission though. He contacted a few stores trying to track them down, found out that the distributor had gone bankrupt so there would be no more deliveries, and then he struck Grilling Gold when a nice older lady at a Homebase store in Luton found the last one in stock and put it behind the counter for Lee. He went and collected it on Friday and brought it home. Unfortunately Noah was not a happy man on Friday, so there was no chance to get the assembly going. Yesterday though, success! Lee got down and dirty and put that bad boy together and when he finally finished at 9.15pm, we were ready to go!

Our first attempt at gas grilling has to be … chicken wings!! We have searched this country for good old chicken wings and have never truly loved any that we’ve had. TGIFridays has come closest, but even sometimes they have off days. So armed with a bottle of Frank’s Red Hot and a brand new barbeque, we got cooking.

We called Canada twice to ask questions about the barbeque (Randy is the Barbeque Master!) and we were not sure how things were going as it started to hail during the cooking and got really dark (the sky not the wings), but once we brought them in and sauced them up we knew that we’d made the right decision in going Gas…. they were the Best Damned Chicken Wings ever to be eaten in the UK. That’s right, not just England, the UK!!

Normally I’d put a photo up here of the wings, but I took the photos on Lee’s camera. However, after we had our second BBQ of the weekend (burgers and ribs) I took a photo of the actual beast:

Check out all of those knobs!

I know a lot of people, especially in England, believe that gas barbeques are not “real” barbeques, but last time I checked, they were not famous for their grilling skills. When you head out to a Ribfest you see a lot of gas grills hard at work and to be honest I’d rather be producing finger licking meat than charred on the outside not so well done/way too overdone on the inside “meat”.

And hey, if you come over for a BBQ and don’t like the way things are done here, we can always run out to Tesco and get you some of these:

Uh huh.. Spam Fritters…pre-fried. All class and only £1.95 for the pack. Someone actually buys these!

Anyway, thank you Stacy and Jamie for lighting the fire under our asses!!! We are in love!

Dumpling you wan? Dumpling you a go get!

My mother called me yesterday for advice on how I make dumplings. To be honest, I panicked. I hadn’t made dumplings in a long time because they were not what Lee was used to the one time I made them and he seemed a bit scared of my “spinners”. So I hung up the dumpling skills and trudged through life without the constant love of a good dumpling.

It was alright though, because when we’d go to St.Kitts I’d always get to have them at least once when Ida (my grandmom’s cook) made us lunch. You might wonder how one serving could hold you, but her dumplings are normally quite massive and they take roughly 3 months to digest.

So I looked up recipes that agreed with what I thought was in a dumpling and we settled on what she needed. It was all I ever used for them, so how could it be wrong, right?

That was until today when I decided to make some stewed beef with dumplings. Now, I didn’t go off setting to outshine her or to make better dumplings, I just wanted to make an edible dinner for Lee. I decided to see if there were any fancy pants recipes out there on the internet in case I needed any ingredients that I was missing. That is when I stumbled upon a photo of stewed beef with herb dumplings that said it was taken from a cookbook…. that I happened to own.

Well, it looked good on there, so it had to look good for me, right? Not so much. I mean it did look and taste awesome, I just meant that usually my recreations are not that close to the real thing.

But low and behold… I think I did even better. And Momma, I’ve got a new recipe for dumplings! Ones that even Lee consumed happily…two bowls full and is having it for lunch tomorrow!

I only ask one thing of you now, Don’t Hate Me Because My Dumplings Are Beautiful…

This is just to let you know that although an ocean may be between us, you are not alone.

Another year has come and gone. Like most there were ups and there were downs … often in the same day. But 2008 is shaping up to be the craziest year of my life yet (hard to imagine if you know me well). They say that how you spend your New Year is how you’ll spend the rest of the year. If “they” are right, then my year will be spent in a quiet house with Lee, watching crime shows, eating M&S party foods, doing DIY and playing Scrabble.

I’ll take it!

Though I am a bit of a realist and know that once BoB arrives, sleep will go out the window, sanity will be non-existant and I will still be wondering if our bedroom will ever fully escape the “urban” look. Whatever 2008 has in store for us, we’re ready. Maybe not ready, but we’re looking forward to it.

So Happy New Year to everyone and I hope that your Ups far outweigh your Downs and that 2008 brings lots of love and laughter when you least expect it.

Lee wishing me a Happy New Year!

Lee wishes BoB a Happy New Year!

We wish YOU a Happy New Year!

Normally I am the Queen of Christmas. From the middle of October I start getting tingles in my fingertips and toes because I know that I won’t have to wait long until the stores are pumping out the rocking Christmas tunes, stuffing their shelves with cheap decorations and gift packs that I never buy but always feel that I “need”.

I am a lover of cheap crap.

Last year I fought through the First Christmas Without My Dad by cooking constantly. Making homemade pasta, gourmet dinners and baking, baking, baking. Our Christmas Dinner For Two could have fed a small impoverished nation, but it helped take my mind off of the most important thing that was missing that day. The alcohol didn’t hurt either.

This year, I am as sober as they come and as much as I try to jumpstart the Christmas Spirit hidden within, as soon as there is a sign that it is coming back, the engine stalls. Even though I do like the tree. A lot. And I like the cute stocking we bought as well. I just can’t get that Christmas Feeling that I am longing for.

Christmas without my Dad in the world is not really a Christmas worth celebrating. I keep hoping my Kwanza card will come through the door letting me know that this has all been the longest, most draining nightmare I’ve ever had. But, it doesn’t come. My Christmas Card in November never arrived either.

Yesterday we put up the tree in hopes that it would bring a smile to my face, and although it was a great distraction, as soon as it was done the Spirit left again. Perhaps next year, when there is a little (or big) baby crawling around wondering why this massive tree has taken over the living room and why s/he cannot touch it, things will be different. For now though, they suck.

Normally I can rattle of a million things that I want. This year, I want nothing. I lie, I want a diaper bag. But I can get that after Christmas when hopefully stores will be having their sales. But I seriously cannot think of anything I could get that would bring back the feeling of Christmas Overjoy that I usually have.

That is not to say that I have been The Grinch the entire “season”. And last night there were a lot of laughs between the tears. But those came thanks to my husband who must have put something in the orange juice that he was drinking, because he was a whole new man for a while there; Not “The Man Whose Wife Drains Him Of All Will To Live With Her Constant Crying and Crankiness”.

The next photo is small and dark, but last night when we got home I was startled as I looked against the fridge door to see my the shadow of my profile. I Am The Grinch!

Today Lee finally decided to join me on the Road To 32. Though to be honest, I think he prefers to just call it 31. Not many people are as enthusiastic about their birthday as I am… which is okay. However, if you are close to me or worse yet married to me.. then you have to suffer Birthday Madness whether you want to or not. When I first met Lee, he was pretty much an “or not” kind of guy. Luckily, I have been molding him over the years and convincing him that birthdays are a WONDERFUL thing. It also doesn’t hurt when you give your husband a games console for his birthday. If he is into that kind of thing. So Lee’s wonderful birthday marathon started a few weeks ago when I gave him his Wii early. He’s since had a surprise dinner and pubbing with his friends in Stratford (thanks to Steve! … and everyone who showed up!), a day before birthday lunch with the family and pressies, a birthday morning with a few more pressies (thanks to Steve! … and me), returned home from work to find post that was not a bill …. and then I took him out to dinner.

Yes, most people go to dinner on their birthdays and it is not that big of a deal. I do realise this. However, most people haven’t been forced to make mashed potatoes for supper almost nightly because their pregnant whining wife can’t imagine food with much flavour (other than Friday night curries). This made dinner out of the house THAT much better.

However, I had a last minute change of plans after having Italian two nights in a row, so on Sunday when Lee was out getting dinner I had to rush and find a suitable alternative. After flip flopping between places we’d been I decided to go out on a limb. Not always a good thing with me … much less a pregnant and sometimes brainless me. I found a review from March 2007 on a Milton Keynes website for the restaurant at the Inn at Woburn. One review … time running out… really left me no option. I went for it.

So we got ready, posed for the Ooh it’s an Occasion to Take a Photo photos – and the now obligatory BoB shot:

Lee is 31 and has balloons!

Us:

Big Old BoB:

When we arrived I was nervous because all I had spotted on the outside was the hotel bar. I held my breath. Then we went in and it was much nicer inside. Exhale. We walked to the restaurant where there were three other people all in jeans. Sharp inhale. Then they offered us a complimentary bottle of still or sparkling water (Exibit Ahhh). Exhale. We looked around and saw so many conflicting things that we really had no idea what we were in for. Cloth napkins – paper napkin rings, oil and vinegar for the bread – with olives from a can, editorial cartoon type drawings on the walls – formal waiters. We placed our orders and hoped for the best.

For once, I got what I hoped for. Actually, no, Lee got what he hoped for. He definitely “won”. I came close…oh so close, but overall he was the winner. And not just because he was the one with the wine.

Exhibit Ahh (the free water):

Lee’s Starter ( Pan-Fried Scallops set on a Cauliflower Purée & Grilled Black Pudding served with a beetroot coulis)

My Shouldn’tHaveButIDidAnyway Starter (Tian of Smoked Salmon and Crab flavoured with Shallots & Dill accompanied with avruga caviar and lemon grissini)

After we inhaled this course we moved on to the mains. We were still nervous because we’d had hit and miss experiences before and didn’t want to get our hopes up. But we needn’t have worried!

Lee’s Main (Loin of Woburn Venison & Quince Jus accompanied with braised savoy cabbage, turnip purée & parmentier potatoes)

My Main (Seared Fillet of Sea Bass on a Chorizo Mash, Baby Spinach served with a chive butter sauce) (Only downside was too much chorizo)

We were getting giddy at this point and were more than ready to take on dessert. Something that we do not often do, but just this once…we were willing to put ourselves out there. No need to thank us, we’re just doing our bit.

Look at these innocent faces:

Lee’s dream came true when Rhubarb was the star of one of the desserts: A Taste of Rhubarb – Rhubarb jelly accompanied with rhubarb crème brûlée and crumble (the brûlée was still flaming when it arrived)

And I finished off with a nice Pineapple Tart Tatin served with Malibu and Coconut sorbet….

All in all, we are more than happy with the turn out. Lee’s birthday ended with a lovely meal (before retiring to the house where he played Splinter Cell past his bedtime) and I … I was just happy that we left with satisfied tummies and smiles on our faces and that Lee has loved his birthday … which goes on until the last present arrives.

Oh this baby is going to LOVE his or her birthday!! I’ll make sure of it.

So thank you to the chef(s) at Olivier’s for making sure that Lee had a Happy Happy Birthday!! And thank you to Lee for putting up with my … well… me.

The hardest part of this pregnancy so far has not been all of the nausea, headaches, sleeping, stuffy nose etc. It has been doing this all without my Daddy. I know that it is supposed to be the happiest time in my life, but I am struggling to allow myself to enjoy it because my heart is still completely shattered. I never imagined that I’d go through this without him and even though it is happening, I still cannot imagine it. Probably more so that I don’t want to imagine it.

It’s become something to laugh over at how easily I cry at the television these days and although I am sure that some of it is down to hormones, most of it is down to the fact that I expend most of my energy trying to be as happy as I am “supposed” to be right now. I’ve just not figured out how to do it properly. And it is something that I wish I didn’t have to figure out.

Let’s face it, if my Dad were still around I’d be told every day that I am doing this all wrong and I’d get a list of “how you should do it”, and even when I would complete the list I’d still be doing it wrong. But at the end of the day, I’d know he’d still be there and inside he’d be even happier than I would. But as happy as I am, and don’t get me wrong.. I am thrilled, I can’t ever be as happy as I imagined I would be. And that, that makes me sad. Sad to the point where I have more snot running down my face than tears. Sad to the point where I feel lost all over again. And I don’t want to do lost, I’d only just started to find my way.

This is hard. I knew it would be, but I had no idea how hard. I just hope that it gets better before it gets worse. That, I cannot handle. And it would not be fair to BOB (nor Lee, but he can escape the tears and snot bubbles, BOB’s kind of stuck with me).

For the past year, I have been dreading today. Not sure of how I would be able to deal with it or how I am supposed to feel. Not sure if anyone else wants me to bring it up or if they’d rather deal with things in their own way.

For a while there I thought that I was going to be okay. That I wasn’t going to have this massive breakdown that I am sure most people expect my crazy-filled self to have. Then I started with my spontaneous crying in Las Vegas and I knew I had been fooling myself and no one else.

When I arrived back in England last Sunday I had a meltdown. Whether brought on my jet lag, pregnancy related hormone madness or just pure grief, I felt myself feeling exactly how I’d felt the day I lost my Daddy.

To be honest, I still feel that way. I thought that it would get easier. A lot easier than it has. But it is hard to let go of the feeling that it is not fair. That it shouldn’t have been him that the world lost on the 18th of August last year. And I strongly believe still, that it shouldn’t have been him.

What has been hardest is all of the unanswered questions. I cannot comment on the hurt, loss, emptiness, or sadness that you feel when you lose a parent after a long illness. Surely, the pain is as great as anyone who loses their parent suddenly, but there exists an opportunity for all that needs to be said to be said. You have a chance to make sure that person knows how much they mean to you and how much you love them. I never had that chance, and I never will. And all I want to know is if he truly knew how much he was loved.

I don’t think he did. And as much as people try and convince me that he knew, there is only one person who could have known, and I’ve lost him.

So here I am a year later, nearly 14 weeks pregnant and feeling like a lost little girl all over again. I am sure that I will make it through today, and tomorrow, and all the days that follow on, but it is difficult to ever get back the girl I was before this all happened since I will never know: a) if he knew how much I loved him and how much he meant to me and b) if he felt completely lonely when he went through the terrible thing he went through.

I had been hoping to have a somewhat quiet and sombre day, but it looks as though I can give up on that idea. Though I’ve got to think of the poor baby inside of me who must think her or his mother is a complete lunatic with all of the nose blowing, shakes from crying and coughing from this chest cold that is going on.

If my Daddy was here, he’d know how to make me feel better. Well, I wouldn’t be sad, but he’d be able to help me get through all of my not so lovely pregnancy side-effects. And I think that is what is making this seem all that much sadder. I always counted on my Daddy to be here when I went through this stage of my life. I always imagined that he’d be able to answer all of the questions that I have and be able to get me through any scary parts. And at the end, he’d most likely be the happiest person (aside from myself and Lee) because that is all he really wanted for when he died. Now, he is the only person who doesn’t get to be a part of this all. And that breaks my heart over and over again.

I’m still waiting to wake up, but a year on I am guessing I should start accepting that I will never have my questions answered, I will never get to say all of the things I wish I had and I will never get to say goodbye.

I just hope that I can properly explain to BOB how much his or her grandad would have loved him or her… in fact how much he did, without ever knowing them.