#awakeaugust 09

The flour dusting on the top of the soft white bread rolls took me back to Yellowcraig campsite.
My memories of these childhood holidays are all outside, outside the shop waiting for the bakery delivery in the morning. The seemingly long walk to the beach, both sandy and rocky, and with Fidra on the horizon. Off to the right, a pine wood with trees to climb in. The ruined castle at Dirleton, stones gritty and hot and irresistibly climable. Chip shop chips on the long rocky spit at North Berwick, by the open air pool.
A whole wealth of memories from something so simple as a bread roll.


Awake August facebook page here

shades and shapes

A couple of weekends ago I went home, home to England, home to my parents house where I spent 15 years of my childhood, home to the English seaside in all its summery glory. It was 25°C in my current hometown, and even warmer in Amsterdam, flying through there. On the beach, although considerably cooler, it was warm enough for walking around in t-shirts; despite the overcast sky it did not rain until the pub lunch was finished and we were on our way back, skirting the industrial zones.

I took a bunch of photos on the beach, kids paddling bare legged under the struts of the pier in seemingly windswept surroundings, grandparents in parkas looking on. I usually avoid taking shots of people in pictures, I must have had some sort of social commentary running through my head as I was framing the pictures, but whatever it was evades me now that it has faded from my short term memory. I took one photo the year before of a young boy running and playing on the pier in a Superman outfit, it seemed that I would be able to do something with that picture, but as yet I have not. 

I am drawn instead to the muted pastel shades, and the shapes of the pier and cliffs. To how the sky looks sandy and how the sand looks full of sky. I must have looked at the picture dozens of times before noticing that there were people in it. I think I got rid of them all for the one below ;)

I am turning into my mother...

Now, this is not to say that I think this is a bad thing, but today I made some "out of date" cake.

Last weekend I meant to cook some date & walnut loaf, but was stymied by opening a pack of Biskin Gold to find out that it was, in fact, white.  And basically lard.  Apparently, what I need is the Biskin Blue which is yellow.

So this weekend, I was feeling smug that I'd remembered yesterday to buy some butter from Kaiser's, although they didn't have the Biskin Blue I picked up real butter instead.  I was in the middle of my "I belong here" wander through town, shopping for food, knick knacks and looking at the obvious tourists come to visit the market.

However, when I opened the packet this lunchtime, it was to find that I had bought Sauerrahmbutter, basically a butter made from sour cream.  And called me sensitive, but I could smell that it was different to "normal" butter or cooking margarine.  "Eben so," I decided to go ahead and make the cake - the worst that could happen is that it would taste awful and I would put it out in the garden to feed the birds, or in the bin or something.

I opened the cooking ingredients cupboard to find three packs of walnuts, the sell by date on the opened packet was December, so no problem there, it's not the end of the month yet.  The unopened packet of dates  said they should have been eaten by mid November, but it's dried fruit right?  A preserve?  Should be OK.  The eggs and milk had been hanging around a couple of days but that wasn't a problem.  I thought to disguise the potential sour milk taste of the butter with a sachet of vanilla sugar and some mixed spice.  I hate to think how old the spice is, but it moved here with me and it probably wasn't fresh when the removal van was packed.

So as I put the cake in the oven I thought "I am turning into my mother"; her experimental approach to cooking ingredients is a family joke, the story of Cheese and Peach loaf will get us all smirking in no time.  I know that turning out like her is nothing I should worry about, being quirky and original and experimental are all aspects of who she is and aspects I am happy to have picked up from the genetic shuffle and the longer experiment called "bringing up a child".

Also, the loaf actually turned out rather nice...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MUM

xxx

Bees will throb out

A new kid comes into the classroom today, kind of older than me but he could just be a September kid and I am always one of the youngest as I wasn't born until August. He is sturdy and has a blue shirt and darker blue neat shorts on but his knees are scabbed and criss-crossed with white scars underneath that. I want to see if he will be my friend but I am nervous, at the first playtime I stand in the group around him but just watch him talk to them. His hair is a bright copper. After lunch we go to the playground again and I want to introduce myself, say "Hi, I'm Barbara," but the B's will throb out as I stammer and blush so I say only "Hi." He smiles at me though, not laughs and we race to the end of the playground.