Tag Archives: Feeding the hordes

Episodes in cooking on a camping stove

Lesson 1: make sure you have plenty of camping stove gas

Lesson 1: make sure you have plenty of camping stove gas

Episode 1

Dear Reader, this post is brought to you by a Margot covered in dust and cooking on a camping stove.  Do not be fooled.  I am NOT camping ( Jerry is still trying to find a glamping site that meets all the family’s criteria.  Primrose refuses to wee outdoors and a compost loo counts as en plein air as far as she is concerned)!  But you may wonder why a camping stove is gracing my kitchen table, dear Reader?  Have we suffered yet another power cut?  Have I decided that I can no longer bear to wrestle with the hob that only works if you hit the temperature dial a few times before turning it on?  Well….I can report that currently the village is not suffering from its reputation as a blackout black spot so you can cross power cut off the list of explanations.  We are renovating our kitchen.  Cue a wailing Margot, Primrose constantly moaning about the fact that she can’t have a roast or any fish cakes, Poppy trying to make more noise than the builders and a thankful Jerry who seems to be rather busy at work all of a sudden.  I imagine that the office has never seemed such a place of sanctuary to him!

Monday last week heralded the first day without the beloved heart of our home.  Since we moved to the countryside, we seem to spend ever increasing amounts of time in the kitchen, like they do in The Archers.  Not bottle feeding lambs as yet but we have nursed the odd pigeon and a hedgehog back to health in the warmth of the crematorium-style oven.  With the smoke alarm constantly our background music, it’s where Jerry and I spend our weekends and the majority of our serious drinking time (tea, gin, wine….mostly gin and wine).  My days are spent ‘working’ away on various scribbled bits at the kitchen table too.  You might say, dear Reader, that the kitchen is the place we can be found in if you were to let yourself into our home.  So our hub is the first room we thought to tackle, having survived our first 8 months of rural life.  To help you picture the scene, our kitchen ofday 1 old was a shocker.  Not to look at (on the whole) but to work in.  1 set of electric hobs with only 2 functioning plates, 1 cooker (from the late 70s) that cremates all, despite being set on low temp and kitchen wall cabinets which almost meet the worktop thus preventing use of kettle, toaster or chopping board.  Green gin palace tiles all over the walls, reminiscent of a Victorian pub loo.  A leaky sink that saw me one Sunday in the not too distant past, covered in muck from an exploding u-bend….  I say no more.  At that point, it was me or the kitchen.

With that in mind, I welcomed the team of builders with open arms to fit me a kitchen I could make marmalade in, dry herbs from the ceiling and leave wet clothes draped on the range.  Jerry persuaded them to fit an affordable kitchen instead.  All began well and soon the kitchen was a mere shell of its former self.  Imagine my delight too when the builders uncovered a hidden window behind a bank of wall cabinets.  We had been able to see the window from the outside but it had been blocked up years ago.  The light that burst through into the usually dark and low beamed kitchen was incredible!  A wonderful end to Day 1 in Margot’s kitchen.

Let there be light!

Let there be light!

From this point onwards, my impatience set in and I am now DESPERATE to get my kitchen back, hounding the builders at every turn as to what is going to happen next.  Thankfully, a week in and they haven’t started to despise me quite yet but Stu, the foreman, tends to open the back door with caution each morning, wondering what I will ask him to do next.  On the camping stove front, I have so far managed a catalogue of fairly respectable meals to take us through our first week of kitchen revamp:

  • Sausages and lentils (As I presented this one, Poppy asked me in rather harsh tones, where her ‘bakened’ beans were.  Sausages only go with ‘bakened’ beans and not rabbit droppings apparently)
  • Spaghetti Bolognese (cheat – as I had already made the sauce and frozen it)
  • Risotto con il pollo (sounds more impressive in Italian….)
  • Eggs a la every which way
  • a LOT of chicken based meals
  • oh and some scallops and bacon with balsamic vinegar (fish man took pity on me and sold them at a knockdown price from the back of his fish van), in a desperate bid to cheer Jerry and me up on Friday night when the thought of more chicken was too much to bear.

To be honest, dear Reader, the rate I am going with the stove, I’m thinking of hosting a new dinner party craze – 3 courses from the camping stove.  Could be a winner!  I was even thinking of my own camping stove cookbook – Culinary Tales from Margot’s Stove.  It’s not ALL beans you know..

candles

Many cups of ‘white with 2 sugars’ later, the kitchen is making good progress.  I have even played agony aunt to Miles, the plasterer, as he negotiated a tricky break up with his long distance girlfriend.  Thank goodness I haven’t lost my sense of humour entirely – Thurs night, the builders managed to drive a screw through the electrics, leaving the whole of the ground floor in darkness.  When I protested, I was asked if I had candles as the electrician was on another job and couldn’t come back until the following week.  This hiccup was only made worse by digging out the bottle of cherished 6 o’clock gin, only to find that it was nearly empty.  Darkness for an evening or two, I can live with.  Gin, my dear Reader, I cannot!

Still….you’ll have to be patient and wait for Episode 2 where camping stove cookery starts trending on Twitter and Margot’s half finished kitchen becomes the set of a new and exciting foray into foodie television.  I’ll just leave you with a sneaky peak……

Cabinets going in...progress indeed but STILL so far to go.

Cabinets going in…progress indeed but STILL so far to go.

The Perfect Sunday

Simply heavenly!

Simply heavenly!

One of the most sacred of pastimes in life has to be the perfect Sunday morning.  Perfection begins with deliciously hot coffee (a rarity with two small children clamouring for breakfast and a piddling puppy who constantly needs to be let out into the garden) and has to include The Archers on in the background.  Jerry mocks me every week for listening to The Archers omnibus with the quip of “It’s no different from watching Eastenders.”  Just to make it VERY clear, dear Reader…the Archers is not a soap as far as I am concerned, it is a serial on the radio.  I can claim to have been educated in the ways of farming and the countryside simply through catching up with my weekly Archers catch up!  Where else could I learn about the perils associated with farriery courtesy of Christopher’s horseshoeing accident, Ruth and David’s TB herd worries and Linda Snell’s opinions on the badger cull debate?  There does seem to be an awful lot going on in that sleepy village of Ambridge!

Anyhoo, it seemed fitting that my perfect Sunday morning ritual should also coincide with acquiring the perfect breakfast treat: a warm croissant straight from my favourite baker’s oven.  On Croissant Sunday, a monthly institution these days and only a stone’s throw from Twickenham stadium, I finally MET Mr Blackbird of Blackbird Bread.  For those of you who haven’t already been introduced to the lovely Mr B (do read about him here), he is the baker extraordinaire whose patience and good advice finally got this calamitous townie into some hearty baking.  I still can’t claim to be a good baker but I am learning all the time (trial and error mostly) and practice makes perfect as they say.  I wasn’t sure if I was going to be an awful disappointment in the flesh and as Croissant Sunday approached, I became increasingly more anxious about meeting Mr Blackbird in person.  A bit like Batman and the big reveal that he was actually Bruce Wayne!  Would Mr B prefer the tweeting Margot to the real life version?   When mentioning my nervousness, Mr B did remind me that underpants over trousers was not the most fashionable look……a fair point.  Secretly, I have always thought that Wonder Woman managed to pull off the whole underwear on the outside look quite well but given that Wonder Woman and Margot are poles apart, I decided to opt for my standard uniform.  Barbour, jeans and my new (now half chewed, courtesy of Monty) floral pumps.  For the first time in the week, my coat was minus the hidden cocker spaniel!  After a disastrous trip in the boot where we had to make an emergency stop (Monty had jumped through onto the back seats), we decided he was best left at home on this occasion!  A dog guard for the boot has now been ordered!

I am happy to report that our ‘blind date’ was a success and Mr Blackbird, Mrs Blackbird and the delightful baby birds were a joy to meet.  The croissants were seriously delicious too!  Inhaled within seconds as soon as we returned home to the cottage!  I shall most certainly be back for Croissant Sunday next month and I will also be trying to get a sneaky baking lesson from Mr B before I leave for the countryside.  Twickenham and SW London lovelies: DON’T GO ANYWHERE ELSE, get your fresh bread here – Mr B’s baking (as well as Mrs B’s cakery) can only be described as heavenly and I can assure you a loaf won’t last the journey home!   Blackbird Bread can be found here. I only hope that Mr Blackbird wasn’t too disappointed in meeting Bruce Wayne!

Yes, dear Reader, we have SOLD the cottage!

Yes, dear Reader, we have SOLD the cottage!

To add to the perfect Sunday, dear Reader, Jerry and I were delighted to see this new little number outside the cottage!  It was a beautifully sunny day and I thought I would feel really sad about the finality of the ‘sold’ board but….I felt completely elated surprisingly.  Moving to the countryside has been all Jerry and I have talked about for at least a year and now, the reality is in sight.  Less than 3 months left until we leave the Big Smoke for a hamlet in the North Hampshire countryside.  I wonder if they are ready for Margot, dear Reader?!

NOMINATE ME BiB 2013 FRESH VOICE
NOMINATE ME BiB 2013 LIFESTYLE

A little ‘Tea’LC

Tea anyone?

Winter blues? Margot puts the kettle on!

With ‘Blue Monday’ on 21st January fast approaching (allegedly the most depressing day in the calendar), I felt the need to gee myself up.  ‘Blue Monday’, dreamed up by inventive holiday company marketers, is ‘thought’ to be the day that we all mourn the end of Christmas and New Year, realise that summer is oh so far away and start dreaming about booking a holiday!  No such dreams in the cottage this week.  Instead, a severe lack of sleep has plagued us.  Poppy has been ill with tonsilitis and up most nights and to add to that, I have been overcome with anxiety over the enormity of organising our move to the countryside.  Thoughts of finding a new job, selling the cottage and securing a new rural home have now become a priority and brought with them oppressive insomnia and bouts of furious midnight list scribbling!  Worried that if I wasn’t careful with my evening nightcaps, I might have to change my name to ‘Ginny’, I sought solace in some old-fashioned herbal remedies.

Herbal remedies?  I hear you ask.  Really, Margot?  I know dear Reader, sounds a little wacky.  However, in my youth, I dabbled in all sorts including a range of unusual interests.  I can only put this down to a furtive imagination and a tendency to become carried away with things.  It is a well kept secret, dear Reader, that in my younger days, I was a little on the hippy side.  I once encouraged Jerry to join me on a ‘pilgrimage’ to Tintagel Castle, a ruin on a craggy cliffside reported to be the legendary birthplace of King Arthur.  Our ‘tour’ in a clapped out B reg VWPolo (Jemima, may she rest in car scrap peace) also took in the the tor and sights of Glastonbury on the way back.  The idea was to explore the various mythical places linked to King Arthur and the isle of Avalon en route and immerse ourselves (just Margot on this one) in the mysticism of druidery.  It didn’t sound quite as ‘mad as a bag of frogs’ at the time but it certainly does now, writing it.  Tasselled flowery skirts and sheepskin jackets also featured heavily, with Tori Amos (the artist of choice for teenage girls), blasting from my ‘boom’box as I smoked cherry tobacco ‘rollies’.  I seem to remember that around the same time I genuinely believed that I had a gift for reading tarot cards!  It is at this point that I feel I should hang my grown up head in shame but I have to add that I wasn’t the only one to indulge in some retro hippy chic.  Jerry did too!  He had long hair, wore flares, played in a band (they were actually rather good) and read the bizarre poetry of The Doors’ rock god, Jim Morrison.  Sporting a ‘City’ haircut and in his Savile Row suit, no one would EVER believe of it Jerry now!  Photographic evidence of Jerry’s misspent youth remains hidden until such a time when it may be required for ransom or blackmail!  Well, alongside wishing I was the reincarnation of a priestess of Avalon, all these efforts to be a teenage misfit happened to coincide with a curiosity in herbal remedies, which leads us back to the present day…..

Culpeper's beautiful illustrations are such a treat.

Culpeper’s beautiful illustrations are such a treat.

Decluttering the cottage in preparation for estate agents, I uncovered a copy of the ancient herbal bible, Culpeper’s Complete Herbal written by the seventeeth century apothecary and physician, Thomas Culpeper, languishing half-forgotten on a bookshelf.  Aside from cures for dropsy (hideous) and torments of the bowels (equally vile sounding), it does serve as a reminder of just how many modern remedies and medicines are based on old countryside knowledge of plants, herbs and hedgerows.  The book houses the most wonderful illustrations of plants too.  Funny how it has almost been forgotten that herbal remedies were once staple countryside medicines.  How many times has one heard of using dock leaves to relieve nettle stings?  The more I read old Culpeper though, the more I was completely sure that I should not put him to the test as concocting one of his tinctures with talk of ‘balancing humours’, felt a bit like dabbling in the black arts and a cauldron most certainly would be required for authenticity.  Jerry would definitely not sanction the purchasing of a cauldron.  Rather than reaching for a bottle of Nytol, I persevered with the herbal burble….where better to start than tea I thought?  I adore the amber liquid and am a strictly black tea drinker.  (Why would anyone want to add essence of cow to such a delightfully delicate tipple?) Surely, there must be a ‘tea’ out there that would serve as a ‘nerve tonic’?  The benefits of some common garden herbs are already widely known: camomile (soothing, sleep inducing), lavender (antibacterial, relaxing, good for burns) and mint (eases stomach pain, good for digestion and can be used to perk up the senses).  Teas or ’tisanes’ have been made to combat all manner of ailments for centuries so there must be some remedy out there to soothe my nerves and help me sleep!

So after some painstaking research and procurement of ingredients….here you are, dear Reader: Margot’s top 3 herbal tips for banishing those wintry blues!

Deliciously lemony and soothing

Deliciously lemony and soothing

Lemon verbena tea

Lemon verbena has long been known for its soporific properties and thus aids a good night’s sleep.  Good for indigestion and bloatedness too.  To make a decent brew, use three to four leaves in a cup.  Bruise the leaves with your fingers a little before pouring hot water over them.  Leave to steep for a few minutes.  The smell is deliciously heady with lemon and it tastes green and sharp.  It is also the perfect cuppa for banishing winter blues as it is reported to be a natural antidepressant.

(I do have lemon verbena in the garden but sadly the plant was looking a little sorrowful under the recent blanket of white stuff – I turned to some dried leaves from Neal’s Yard Remedies for my evening cup instead.  I am reliably informed that any reputable purveyor of teas will sell the leaves or indeed filled tea bags).

Warming and fragrant

Warming and fragrant

Ginger tea

Not strictly a herb but definitely worth adding as its warming properties can heal a multitude of ailments from travel sickness to lifting one’s mood and banishing negative feelings.  Packed with antioxidants, it makes the ideal thing for fighting winter bugs and boosting one’s immune system.  To make ginger tea, cut a piece of ginger roughly the size of a couple of centimentres.  Chop the ginger into fine slices or give it a bit of a bash with a pestle and mortar before adding to your pot or cup.  Then boil over boiled water and allow to steep.  Honey can be added to sweeten and a pinch of cinnamon can really make this tea zing with extra spice too.

Bath ‘tea’ bag

A good old-fashioned bath.  Truly, this is cheating on the ‘tea’ front but it really works if one is feeling a little frazzled.  The latest Country Life, steaming hot water and a bath ‘tea’ bag can have you feeling ready for Bedfordshire in no time.  To make your bath tea bag, take a piece of muslin cloth and cut into a smallish square.  Fill the square with some oats (porridge oats are fine for this), add a teaspoon of lavender flowers to this (a couple of drops of lavender essential oil onto the oats will do the job just as well) and tie up the bag with a little string.  Hang over the tap so that the hot water passes through the bag as the bath is drawn.  The oats are moisturising and will soothe dry, irritated skin whilst the lavender relaxes and calms the nerves.

earl grey

All this talk of tea prompted me to pop the kettle on and pour myself a restorative cup.  Whilst I was at it, I thought of another old countryside pastime I could take up: reading tea leaves.  Now where did I put that sheepskin jacket….?

I wonder what the future holds.......

I wonder what the future holds…….

For the love of….bread

At the very beginning of my journey to country bumpkindom, I ‘met’ a gentleman.  This gentleman followed dear old Margot’s chronicles (or mad woman’s rantings as Jerry affectionately refers to the blog) on Twitter from first chirp and has tweeted and retweeted my posts countless times.  He has encouraged others to follow, saved me from kitchen disasters, provided invaluable advice and yet we have never been in the same room as each other.  You may be wondering why I am telling you all this, dear Reader.  Who is this gentleman?  He is known as Mr Blackbird.  Other than being a thoroughly nice chap who has taken pity on a muddled Margot, the fact of the matter is that Mr Blackbird has a specialist skill.  A skill which I am keen to master.  A skill which will help to transform Margot from townie to home grown bumpkin.  He is a……..baker!

“If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.” - Robert Browning(photo: BLlackbird Bread)

“If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.” – Robert Browning
(photo: Blackbird Bread)

To give Mr Blackbird a proper introduction, he and Mrs Blackbird started Blackbird Bread, a micro-bakery in Twickenham, in 2012.  They bake bread (quite obviously) and cakes all from home, selling to friends and neighbours, the surrounding community and local markets.  11 types of bread and 3 different cakes can be ordered by text, phone or email and are delivered on foot (if within walking distance) or picked up by their loyal followers 3 times a week.  Quite frankly, when the bread looks this good, why wouldn’t you buy it?

Blackbird Bread - don't mind if I do! (c) Blackbird Bread

Certainly NOT half-baked! The delicious loaves made by Mr and Mrs Blackbird.
(photo: Blackbird Bread)

Well dear Reader, on Margot’s New Year’s list of to-dos was: No.17 Bake a decent loaf of bread.  This has been somewhat of a holy grail quest for me for some years now.  I simply cannot bake ordinary bread.  Variations on a theme of soda bread, including one with cheese and bacon – done.  A real loaf – absolutely not.  That was UNTIL I met Mr Blackbird.  Armed with Mr Blackbird’s Basic White recipe (which can be found here on Mr B’s blog http://blackbirdbread.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/a-loaf-for-heather-or-bread-basics-101.html), I gingerly tested my baking skills.  Jerry was quite bemused at my ‘Mr B says that you have to….and Mr B said that you should do that…’ but the pep talk and recipe prevailed and I baked my SECOND ever proper loaf with resounding success.  (First loaf lost its bottom crust as I wasn’t liberal enough with the flour on the tray).  However, with some practice loaves under my belt, I think that I may have finally passed the test!

Margot's humble cottage loaf

Margot’s humble cottage loaf

Anyway, I thought if Mr Blackbird could teach a ridiculously hopeless case like me how to bake, then I must encourage him to give up his baking secrets to you, dear Reader.  He very kindly said he would oblige so for the first Margot guest post ever………OVER TO YOU, Mr B!

“Blackbird Bread’s Top 5 tips”

Hi! The brilliant Margot has kindly invited me to do a guest post on her lovely blog. An honour!

I work for Blackbird Bread, a micro-bakery in Twickenham, providing homemade bread and cake for the local community. We bake from home, using a domestic oven, nothing fancy, just real honest food! Please visit our blog for more information – http://blackbirdbread.blogspot.co.uk/

Margot asked if I would provide my top 5 tips for baking a loaf of bread, but instead I’ve compiled a list of baking bits and pieces that are invaluable when making a loaf! Really the list could go on and on, so I’ve had to be quite strict!

  1. Digital scales Essential. You can get away with normal kitchen scales when weighing out large quantities of flour, but 7g of yeast is almost impossible to see without digital scales. (You can use measuring spoons, or a teaspoon, to weigh out measurements, but they’re never 100% accurate). They’re not too dear (ours cost £10).
  2. Clingfilm/black bin bags Yes, you heard right! The oft thought misconception about baking, and proving, is that you need to put things on top of a radiator, or in a warm place. Whilst that is useful, it isn’t vital. By using clingfilm or a black bin bag, you ensure the heat and moisture from the dough remains in the bowl as the gluten stretches and the dough proves.
  3. Water spray Cheap as chips, usually costs £1 and is necessary to keep the dough hydrated when it goes into the oven. Bakers’ ovens have built in steamers and sprays so this simply replicates that.
  4. Roasting tray When you switch the oven on (at least 45 minutes before you put the dough into it), put a roasting tray at the bottom of your oven. Leave it and let it get good and thirsty! Pop the kettle on and, just after you spray your loaf and put that in the oven, pour the boiling water from the kettle into the roasting tray and close the oven door as quickly as you can! The steam will fill your oven and maintain hydration for your loaf throughout the bake.
  5. Baking stone/pizza stone By all means use a roasting tray to bake bread in, but you can’t beat a stone that sits in the oven and gets incredibly hot. Your bread will start to cook the second it hits the stone if it’s in the oven for long enough (same time as the roasting tray for steaming – at least 45 mins before baking). The pizza stone is much thinner and usually round, so is brilliant for single loaves. The baking stone is thicker and is, basically, a paving stone, so is quite heavy, but can take two loaves at a time.
  6. (I know I said five tips!) Breadknife A sharp breadknife will be needed to score/slash your loaf just before it goes into the oven. A simple horizontal mark, approximately 1 cm deep, will allow you to control how the loaf will rise and will help to avoid any unsightly bulges in the wrong places!

 Okay, that’s enough from me! Thanks to Margot for letting me loose on her blog!  Please follow our baking adventures on Twitter – @blackbirdbread

To Mr B – I salute you and your fabulous baking skills.  I am delighted that you agreed to share your tips!  To you dear Reader, DO follow Blackbird on Twitter or check out his blog and if you live in Twickenham, what are you waiting for…place your order!  I am completely indebted to Mr Blackbird and am thrilled to have made his acquaintance.  I never truly believed that I would ever be able to pull off No.17  Bake a decent loaf.  However, following these fundamentals, armed with a baking stone and trying not to become too complacement, this townie is turning country baker, producing her own daily bread with a little help from Poppy and Primrose of course!  Hoorah!

Margot's humble cottage loaf!

‘Proving’ to be a hit…. Sorry, couldn’t resist the baking pun!

 

Margot’s Twelve Days of Christmas

Look at that darling little boot!

Look at the darling little boot!

On the first day of Christmas, my dear Jerry gave to me……some truly wonderful presents to kit me out for the countryside in 2013: the most delicious cashmere welly socks complete with tiny silver welly, an AMAZING box set of River Cottage handbooks and a very uncamouflaged green and white spotty bag from Cath Kidston!  Dear Reader, I can assure that I was most certainly one of the nine ladies dancing!  Presents done and dusted by 7:30am!  That’s what I call efficient or rather very impatient!  We even managed to make the wonderful nativity service where Primrose stood angelic as one of the angels by a real baby ‘Jesus’ whilst Poppy screamed for most of the service and could only be silenced by a packet of rice cakes.  Crib service completed, we trudged off on our Christmas travels with our two little ‘angels’ who had been awake since 4:47am, desperate to see what St Nicholas had left under the tree.  Even industrial amounts of coffee could not keep me awake on Christmas morning and there was rain of biblical proportions sloshing down as we left the Big Smoke, ruining my straightened hair and making me question whether or not the Mayans might have been on to something!Journey finally at an end, we turned our attentions to the business of Christmas lunch.  Day one of the Twelve Days of Christmas and  not a partridge in sight.  However, I did try my first ‘turducken’.  Yes that’s right, a ‘turducken’ (turkey, duck and chicken), also known as a three bird roast.  A modern take on an olden day feasting dish when one served a bird in a bird in a bird (you get the idea) all neatly packaged up inside a swan, feathers, beak et al.  I can see where jeggings might have evolved from.  They must be the modern day equivalent of hose!  Thank goodness we only had 2 days of feasting to get through rather than the full Twelve Days of Christmas.  I am not sure I could have managed the swan roast or the 12 pies for a lucky 12 months that nursery rhyme Jack Horner is alleged to have consumed!

Boxing Day arrived with its post Christmas lunch slump and mad sale spendathons.  Traditionally the feast of St Stephen (the patron saint of horses), farmers and horse owners alike used to take their horses to their country parishes to be blessed.  It is also well known as the biggest day in the hunting calendar.  The Boxing Day hunt – a time honoured country Christmas tradition which is so rarely cheered in villages these days.  Dear Minty took her little babe to his inaugural Boxing Day hunt to watch riders and hounds depart from a sleepy village in Gloucestershire for the frost-covered fences and hedges of the surrounding countryside.  If Minty’s husband has anything to do with it, that dear little boy will be riding, hunting, shooting and fishing before he even takes his first steps.  I applaude that sentiment entirely!  No local hunts around our parts so I made do with a little dress with horse and hound pattern!  Embarking on the second day of our gluttonous feasting, I started to feel like the Vicar of Dibley in the episode where she is invited to all the villagers’ Christmas lunches.  I wasn’t sure how much more I could fit in and wished I had saved a pair of maternity jeans!  Following a considerably over indulgent lunch, I fell into a dream of turtledoves and dovecotes on my country estate and was woken somewhere around 2am by the ‘twit twoo’ of a pair of owls .  I say owls…..it could merely have been the whistling of darling Jerry’s drunken snoring.  Difficult to tell….

Hunting horns at the ready!

Hunting horns at the ready!

Well dear Reader, day three of Margot’s Twelve Days of Christmas and all was looking rosy as we finally returned to the familiar surroundings of our dear little cottage.  Presents unpacked, fire lit and pyjamas on, I was delighted to be back.  I will admit to be being a very poor house guest.  I like to be in my own home.  Tragic as that sounds.  I also felt a little twinge of loyalty to the cottage as after all, this will be the last Christmas spent in its tiny embrace.  Three French hens were not on offer….you can see I was not fully prepared for the full twelve days at all…BUT Primrose and I did make a rather charming bereted French snowman (if I do say so myself) for the top of my Christmas cake this year.  Rustique.

C'est chic non?!

C’est chic, non?!

As for the rest of the Twelve Days of Christmas, not really sure how I am going to manage four colly birds (apparently these are blackbirds, who would have thought?), five gold rings (oh God nothing Olympic related I promise), six geese-a-laying (might have to make do with chickens for this one and book myself on a hen-keeping course), seven swans-a-swimming (could a few trips to The Swan pub count?), eight maids-a-milking (dairy farm, perhaps?).  Still it all looks promising for a good old New Year/early Twelfth Night shindig.  A little visit to see Tom and Barbara in the offing and no doubt, I shall definitely see at least one of the ten lords a leaping on New Year’s Eve (can’t wait to see Tom strutting his stuff with his energetic version of Britney’s Toxic) and might even manage to do some piping for the eleven pipers piping.  As for the drummers, dearest Poppy got a drum from Father Christmas so when New Year’s Day comes and inevitably, Jerry and I have sore heads, it will feel like twelve drummers drumming.  Might have to hide that one…… Here’s to 2013 and Margot FINALLY making it to the countryside.  Happy New Year to you, Dear Reader!