Menoffagainorrhoea; me; no kakkuls...

There is so much to get through to share this trip of many visits, that the mid-week mirthdom will have to go on hold for a while. Mind you, there is some mild jocularity today as I tell you...

First, there was the getting on and off buses from Putney to London Liverpool Street Rail Station. It went smoothly enough and only took 1hr20m. Possibly could have got there faster with the tube - but I'm not so keen on underground and anyway, how would I see all the crusty 'burbs interesting places?

That's my door, that red one. First Class ticket booked in advance was only ten quid more than the cattle class. We departed within seconds of schedule. Very good. The run was North and East - perhaps more East than North... aw heck, here's the obligatory map... mine was the hour and a half journey.

My good pal Aitch collected me from Stowmarket and we drove back to her (almost) life-long home in Baylham. You will learn more about the village towards the end of the saga...suffice to say here that it is a true village, with a population of about 260 souls.

Many of the stations in the country have retained their Victorian features. Stowmarket is particularly fine.

Aitch's two nieces and her grand-niece had been staying for a long weekend, so I was able to see them too. I had met them briefly on other occasions, but also know Helen ('Nelly') through her rather fine lifestyle blog. Once little Zoe had gone to bed that first evening, we four big kids played board games. First a few rounds of Cluedo (golly I'd forgotten what fun that is!) and then a couple of 'shopping lists'.

I kid you not. Here's the evidence...

Now is that not hilarious? We even played a couple more rounds in the morning - with Zoe.




The girls departed mid-morning Monday 18th. Aitch and I took the rest of the day to just settle in and do laundry. I should mention here that the weather continued to be glorious. A summer such as has not been had for decades. I took to mowing the grass. A job I have not tackled since leaving my own garden in Sydney seven years ago.

..........what?! Seven years??? Struth...

Anyway, we sorted out our plan of attack for the 19th - that being Aitch's birthday and one of the key reasons for my visit. Tomorrow you will see the main part of our activity, but let me finish this more light-hearted post with how we ended the day - which was in a retro tea-room just over the border into Norfolk in the town of Harleston. It was the idea of Our Friend the Nun. We met up with her, with the 'Kook' and also with 'Teach'. Whilst I had re-connected with the 'Kook' and Our Friend not so many years ago on an earlier visit to Aitch, it is not since school that I had sat with 'Teach'. She had, in fact, just retired from teaching (after a couple of false starts). Here we were, then, the original gang of five from Claydon Secondary Modern School - the tearoom host was more than delighted to photograph us and drop in the occasional reposte to the gaggle of giggly gals who, despite having lived many varied lives, could still find laughter and joy in each other's company. He plied us with copious amounts of hot water to keep topping up our generous teapots, as well as providing us each with tiered stands of delicious sandwiches, scones and cake. We all admitted defeat by the time we reached that top tier and had to take the cake home in doggy bags! We are most grateful to the hospitality of the Yakety Yak Tea Room!!!

Me-now-views; a gradual return

Regular visitors will recall that Tuesday's were my Less Speak More Peek days, but things have gone a wee tad awry due to "intercontinental drift".  Or something.

Never mind.  Whilst I am still technically in transition until I find the permanent 'cave', things are at least semi-stable now and I can start to sort myself out again on matters of blogging.  I will return to linking up  after the new year, but at least some of the familiar titles and pages will return...gradually.  Meanwhile, am still on the "this is my life!" trail and today I would like to share another glimpse into the fabby meal we shared (look back at Saturday's post), plus glimpses of the village where Aitch and Lady Vicki live.

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

This was my meal choice at 

The Veggie Red Lion.

I started with baked camembert and beetroot jam and salad accompanied by light and fluffy sourdough breads. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was a meal in itself.  It was lighter than you'd think though and this was the perfect thing to follow; South Indian-style parsnip and egg-plant curry, with kidney and butter beans. Slurp!

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

Our Friend's father had the lentil cottage pie with mixed steam veg.

He certainly appeared to enjoy it and there was nothing left on that dish by the end!

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

Whilst Our Friend and Aitch took the mushroom wellington, shared the veges and Aitch had the home-made chips.

The three of them indulged in sweets of some substance after.  I stuck to a pot of tea.



To say it was fabulous is an understatement.  

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

Some parts of the building date back to the 1500's if memory serves me... (Aitch will correct if wrong!)

On the drive back, late afternoon and impending darkness looming, Aitch dropped me off half a mile from home so that I could make these shots.

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

Flint buildings are very common in East Anglia and Aitch advised me that the Suffolk and Norfolk houses can be told apart by the way the flint has been laid.  Without going into heaps of research, I trust her on that one!  Of course, the rendered walls and thatched rooves are very traditional and rather 'hobbity'.  Delightful!

In the gloaming, the Church loomed large through the trees...

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

Menorise [men-oh-rIse]; the condition of inculcation

"Alllllwaaayss loook on the briiightt siiidde of life..
da dum de da, de dumpty dumpteedum...."

(Monty Python, from 'Life of Brian')  This a Our Friend, her Father, Aitch and myself enjoying a FABulous vegetarian pub meal.  We were kind of our own pythonesque group once...

copyright Yamini Ali MacLean

Menovoidal [men-oh-void-all]; the condition of "huh?"

….Saturday night.  Have to make a post for Sunday.  It's 8:30pm.  I post at midnight.

 

Blank page.

Blank everything.

It seems that when relating my menopuggled status to you earlier this week, there may have been some organic basis for the total lack of energy and enthusiasm.  By Thursday evening yours truly was awash with sneezing.  It continued throughout Friday and into this morning.  The famous elixir certainly helped ease the symptoms, but it could do nothing about the main one.

There is no tsetse fly in India so I can't claim sleeping sickness.  But sleep I most certainly did.  All Thursday afternoon, pretty much all of Friday (somehow getting to classes in between) and for a goodly part of today also.  Last night, in addition, Excalibur decided to usurp the position of the right tonsil and on any movement resembling swallowing, goes into attack mode.  I've managed to demonstrate tithiksha (forbearance) by not actually screaming out loud.  However, I am sure the girning face is a bit of a give-away.  It threw me right back in time to that incident in the school canteen… (aha! There, y'see, I do have a post after all &>*)

I am something of a natural vegetarian.  Always have been and there was many a struggle in our household as mother attempted to get me to eat the 'toad in the hole' or the 'monkey-gland stew'.  Why Dad ever thought that name would be an enticement for enjoyment of eating another creature's flesh has always been a puzzlement to me.

Something I never really had trouble with, however, was fish.  If it was good enough for Jesus it was good enough for me.  Nowadays, of course, it is not on the menu at all, but I can't promise that will always be the case.  (YAM! Kya? The canteen..oh yeah)…

There are some very mixed feelings when I think back to the school meals.  I was there during the time when eating the meals provided was compulsory and monitored and I can recall some discussions between mother and Headmaster with respect to some apparent displays of fussiness.  I'm sorry but if eating reasonably good meat at home was a struggle, imagine being faced with various forms of offal and cheap cuts floating in coagulating fatty excuse for gravy.  Mother was something of a pioneer in kids nutrition and along with a group of other mothers was instrumental in getting the school to at least provide one alternative dish, usually pasta in some form.

Every Friday was fish day and that was good.  Also, the chips seemed always to be good.  One day came the plate which put me off fish for many years to come, however.

You should know, I am a careful eater.  (Read S L O W).  It would drive my family crazy.  At school there were one or two other grazers, but I was pretty much the slowest.  In our little girl gang, Aitch was out and out the winner, finishing at least 10 forkfuls ahead of Our Friend and Clutters.  The Kook was neither fast nor slow. 

That fateful day, Aitch was just finishing off her main and ready to start the rhubarb crumble (why do I recall the detail so clearly?  ...and why can't I do that for yesterday's class??)  sigh.  Anyway. Yours truly had eaten the little bit of 'salad' (a limp lettuce leaf and a slice of tomato and two slices of cucumber - I told you, I can see it before me now).  Tucking into the steamed fish in parsley sauce I flaked it as always; these were also the days when bones were prevalent in the mass-prepared item.

How, oh HOW did that bone escape my close scrutiny?  Clearly the sauce was to blame. 

Oh the pain.  The choking.  The wriggling on the floor.  Over came the canteen monitor and bundling me up onto the chair again, got me calmed down enough to understand what had happened. Next course of action?  "Eat this slice of bread, it will shift it".

Yes it did.

Deeper into the flesh of my oesophagus.   Next thing I knew I was in the 'sick room' with the school nurse wielding the largest set of tweezers you can imagine, a workman's torch and a bottle of that ultraviolet stuff they used to paint throats with.

I don't really need to describe the procedure, do I?  It was only a blessing that in fact the bone had lodged right at the back of my uvula and not (as it had felt) deeper down.  What in Heaven's name would that woman have done with those tweezers then???

For about a week, I was on liquid diet as the really rather nasty wound healed.

Eventually, packed lunches were permitted.  Those were good.  Until mother decided to try me with canned salmon...

(...so I managed a post despite the thick head, glue-eye and the entire round table of knights having a battle in my throat. 

"Is YAM exaggerating again?" 

 I heard that!  Perhaps.  But only marginally.

Oh, and GO ANDY MURRAY!!!)

Menoysterical [men-oh-iss-tiry-cul]; the condition of being in fits

Order of Service - courtesy of Our Friend

Tomorrow is the second wedding anniversary of Wills and Kate.

??

You know.  Prince William of Britain and the girl of his dreams?  Now she's well on the way to providing the next heir-in-waiting.

Not interested?  Neither am I all THAT much to be honest.  Aitch is the Royalist and records keeper in our gang.  Always was good with dates and who belonged to whom.  Am not cold-hearted about it.  Simply indifferent.  But I can hold my own on the main characters at least.  There was some wedding that took place in Edinburgh during the two months I was there prior to coming to Mumbai about which, however, I can tell you nothing. 

Aitch came and stayed for a week and entertained us all with her preparations for where she was going to stand and wave her flag.  I took her down the Royal Mile to orientate her and scout out locations.  I have that much interest - but mainly in support of my dear friend's passionate hobby and not necessarily of the actors in the play.

That I recall the W&K event is due not to my YAMarazzi side.  Rather, it is to the connection with another of our ex-school circle.  It is a matter of public domain, so I am free to report it, but also cannot, in this instance, feign any kind of "privacy naming", due to the available internet offerings.  You see, there was a flurry of reporting on the matter of a pair of shoes.

Not shoes exactly.  More your soft-wear sneaker-like variety.

The Royal-watchers amongst you will already be onto it.  OOHHH that…

She it was who produced the weekly comic at school, incurring both delight and wrath, having a wicked sense of humour and a good eye for the ridiculous.  She hasn't lost that I may tell you - now it was usefully directed towards herself and she took the whole podiatry incident in her stride.  One thing that arose from the public interest in the pros and cons of foot comfort for a middle-aged nun was the surprise folk showed in discovering the Anglican church even had nuns.   I got over that amazement some 30 years ago when Our Friend stunned us all by announcing her calling.  

Rich and Delicious - a bit like the couple!

So you see, I am far from being the first of our lot to entertain spiritual commitment at a high level.  (If I drop in here that Aitch is a church warden, you will understand a little more of our group 'nature').

What I would like to share with you today though, is the little gathering that took place when I arrived at Aitch's home as first point of call on my return to UK.  A Royal tea party no less.  The table was laid with the Royal Albert china service and several varieties of cake.  Present were Aitch, YAM, Our Friend the Nun and, host, The Kook.  It was the first time in over 30 years I had come face to face with the latter two.  But as it is with old connections of this sort, we felt easy and comfy.

Our Friend the Nun, though, had brought a special contribution.  She had not mentioned to Aitch until we got there as she knew it might cause some fireworks!  Quite wise.  In fact, The Kook had not planned quite so lavish a do, but as soon as it was announced we had Royal Wedding Cake to consume, out came the china!!  As for Aitch.  The excitement was something to behold. 

The hand was ALMOST steady...

When someone we hold dear is in a state of joy, we benefit.  Love and goodwill spreads like water in a flood.  That Our Friend had held onto this prize with exactly this date of meeting in mind says a great deal for her character and loyalty also.  It was not just that she was a lady of the cloth.  It was that she thought of who would most appreciate the sharing.

Croc-style.

We were a gaggle of school-girls again for a short while, all the years and experiences were nought in the face of a shared and valued moment.  There was giggling and joking and reminiscing and all-in-all we were rather menoysterical. 

  ...It is one of the delights of being in a mostly reverent state that one can break out and be - just a little bit - irreverent, from time to time.

 So to complete the scene, allow me to share with you the footwear of Our Friend on leave from the convent.

                          Ahhh.  Good times.  YAM xxx