We’ve been bewitched with a spate of technology failures. First it was the breadmaker and then it’s been the computer, printer, wall lights, food processor and finally the lawn mowers. I don’t know if we’re jinxed or perhaps I’m just out of touch. Forgive me for thinking that a piece of equipment should last at least 5 years even if it has to be serviced regularly or a few parts replaced. It seems that since we’ve been living in a material world you can’t now maintain something it has to be replaced if the slightest bit of it fails.
With no spare parts available for my breadmaker – I think the term used was discontinued – I’ve been resisting the temptation to head out and buy a new machine. It’s been the cause of many a discussion at Domestic Executive HQ. MT bemoaning the fact I don’t bake bread any more and me bemoaning the fact that I refuse to go out and spend several hundred dollars when I was sure there was a way we could get things working again.
I am pleased to announce that I was right. And I can tell you that’s a rare occurrence n our house.
Although I don’t get out as much as I ought to there is one place I visit each week that takes little effort and makes me feel great. It may be an imaginary place but for 75 minutes each week its real. I’m a self confessed Archers Addict and have the t-shirts to prove it. I also have this map framed up on the wall in the pantry area so if I ever need to remind myself of the geography I can.
After 24 years of listening to The Archers I am so sad that Norman Painting who plays Phil Archer died yesterday. It’s impossible right now to contemplate life on the Archers without Phil but it looks like that’s going to be the case. Given the storyline right now it’s hard to imagine how they are going to deal with this since Phil is mentioned a great deal even if he hasn’t been heard. As in real life things will change now someone has died, life in Ambridge won’t be the same without Phil somewhere in the plot.
Even moving 12,000 miles away from the BBC hasn’t stopped me listening to the Archers as it’s available to listen again on the Internet. Yet despite the opportunity to listen at any time, we try to listen to the omnibus edition on a Sunday morning just as I have always done. Strange but true!
Spring is suposed flowers in bloom, lambs frolicing in the fields, trees getting greener, lighter and longer days and most of all plenty of time to get out. I’m not sure what’s gone wrong this year. Sure we have the countryside renewal but the opportunities to want to get out and about are few and far between. We seem to be switching from mid winter to Spring in 24 hour periods. And, the rain. Oh the rain. It just keeps coming and coming creating a kiwi monsoon.
People are very confused. Today I dressed in brighter colours with a matching cardigan to complete the suposed Spring fashion ensemble only to be told that I was ahead of myself and that it’s not really the weather for such brightness. I decided not to share my warm and toasty thermal underwear secrets!
The bassets have been very camera shy of late. It’s not like them to be so coy but who can blame them after we left them behind for 5 weeks whilst we travelled to the other side of the world. They have most definitely returned to their usual rhythm of life although I find their stubbornness has hardened a little which means they are reaching heights of awkwardness which would turn even the most patient person into a ranting banshee.
Funnily enough as soon as you head into the kitchen or close to the fridge their little halos pop up and they sit looking lovingly and longingly at whatever is going on. Only returning to a major sulk when they realise that they are not getting any tit-bits or treats. Fortnum will simply flop on the floor lay on his side and blow out the biggest sign puffing his cheeks out to emphasise his dissatisfaction. Mason will lie down, chin on floor with furrowed brow and simply dream up new ways and even more annoying ways of grabbing my attention.
In the muddle of getting back into the domestic executive rhythm after my long break away planting for this seasons kitchen produce has been a little delayed. With the fine weather and an extra day this weekend there were no more reasons to procrastinate. It was time to get planting of all those seeds stashed away months ago.
When it finally came down to it I came to realise that I had no idea what I was doing. I’ve always bought baby plants from the garden centre. Growing my own from seed is a whole new adventure. I did however have the necessary equipment ready to start. Waste not want not at Domestic Executive HQ, I using up the pots from when I planted out our kiwi hedge to get me started.
The easy bit was filling the pots ready for planting and I was feeling calm and confidence. Then I turned into a pukeko crossing a busy state highway.
It’s not been a pretty sight in the potager for a while but the near perpetual rain since we came home has delayed the much needed clear up. With the fine weather and a whole day to devote to my growing patch it was time to take the plunge and get things sorted out once and for all.
The rain had done a marvellous job of watering the vegetables but it had also worked wonders on the weeds growing in the patch. With well compacted soil it was not an easy job teasing out the unwelcome plants in between the rows of leeks and onions. I persisted all day and then realised that I’d managed to weed myself into a metaphorical corner. Now that things were cleared out, where next for my growing ambitions.
I was kicked out of domestic science at school because it clashed with art. Over the years I’ve convinced myself that had I chosen domestic science over art I would now be a more proficient baker. Regretfully I was kicked out of art for some reason I can’t remember so somehow it feels like a double blow.
For a very long time I’ve wanted to bake the perfect victoria sponge cake. You know one that is about 3 inches high, perfectly light and crumbly and deep golden brown peeping through the scattering of icing sugar. Every now and then I give another recipe a go and hope that it will come right. But, somehow the Victoria Sponge Cake is just not my friend. Over the years, my baking efforts have created cakes that have flopped, crashed and burned.
Labour Day weekend is the traditional time that kiwis take to their gardens and start to knock them into shape. It’s time to plant out your vegetable plants and start to think about your flower beds for the summer. With the onset of some good weather it was time for us to dig out the garden tools and machinery and get cracking too.
Although I know I’ll be suffering tomorrow I was really looking forward to getting stuck in. After another week of disproportionate amounts of executive activity it was going to be a delight to start to have some fun outdoors.
Despite the unseasonably bitterly cold weather there are definitely signs of Spring all around us. The morning bird song is starting to compete with George the Rooster’s calls and things are springing into life. The most noticeable change in landscape around us the proliferation of yellow all over.
I was struck how one of our usual walking tracks close to where we live was a yellow lined road. Pity this is not necessarily the sort of yellow we like around the place.
After another washout Sunday it was a delight to start the week with a sunny Monday. Even if I know it’s going to be short lived I was determined to enjoy the day. The bassets and I decided to visit the neighbours but they were busy with their snouts in the trough to talk to us.
I can’t blame them though. Beats wading through the mud of their paddock, the result of the persistent rain we’ve been having.
