Keeping my head above water

The reason it took me a while to get started with this, and why there are so many days missing, is that news of illness in the family has hit us a bit like a torpedo whooshing into a submarine's side.

For a week or so, I completely forgot to use my bowl, as my focus on my "self" inevitably trickled away.  The emphasis moves to survival, and once again, it's not about me.

But spending a couple of days back at home, I made some smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, which didn't quite fit in the bowl, but pudding did - and there it is, above.

Despite all the goodness, I developed a headache in the afternoon - brought on by trying not to cry, then deep frowns when the trying failed. So I had to bring in a trusty friend, Berocca.

We lit a fire to burn off the haar in the evening, and the cup and bowl were host to red wine and chocolate popcorn, and then the last of the cherries, which go surprisingly well with a Sicilian red.

This morning is our first properly wet day since we moved to Dunbar, and it's so misty we can't see the sea at all. We had to light lamps so that we could see our breakfast, and breakfast had to be suitably warming. Porridge with raspberries and toasted flax seeds.

It's not just using different dishes to the boys that is raising their hackles.

It's the precisely ten minutes spent uploading the pictures that is too much for them to spare.

Day one

I've known Nicola for a few years - we met through our mutual chum Stevie Jackson. He brought her round to mine for Easter Sunday dinner, if I remember rightly. We ate a lot of lamb and beans and got slightly hammered. 

Nicola is an artist who does beautiful things in places you might not expect. This is her website...
http://www.nadfly.com/

She invite me to take part in an event called ALL YOU NEED.  I quote her...


"ALL YOU NEED is a celebration and study of the rituals of food and eating within the wider context of our modern beliefs of what is "essential" in life."


18 of us, all women, took part in a dinner at the Briggait in Glasgow. We excavated a cup, a bowl and a spoon for each of us. They were made in Sweden and they are touched with real gold.  Everyone else chose theirs very carefully, but I just plumped for the set that was furthest to the left. I doubt that I was the furthest, politically speaking, to the left of the assembled company, but I do still try.

We ate together and I landed very lucky with some very cool chicks - something about the atmosphere made us exchange some rather startling truths, and I left wanting to know more.


So I took my cup, my bowl and my spoon back to the seaside, meeting my husband and son to get the train home.  The other half had no idea what I'd been doing in Glasgow, despite having told him several times.

At the first mealtime, we were having pizza and salad, so I used the bowl for my salad, and made a pretty good fist of eating it with the spoon. My crockery was greeted with suspicion... A bit of resentment... And envy.

As the cook of the house, doing something just for me feels odd.  The boys didn't like it at all.

But I did.