Today I thought not.

So, I logged in to remove the link to the Domestic Executive Facebook page. Part of my defiant attempt to squeeze useless social media from my life, and save the souls of others too.

And, here I am. Pondering, to blog or not?

It’s not like I don’t “blog” – I pour a daily feed of photographs of the good life from Instagram into the blog just to let my Dad and my in-laws know I’m still alive and kicking.

I’ve just lost the long-form blogging habit. The personal journal-like publication that became personally uncomfortable as my life changes and challenges.

But my Instagram feed is to be believed, basset blogging still rules 2018 style.

I love to write. To take photographs. Put the two together and you could have a blog. Who knew!

No promises. No more pondering. Let’s see.

It’s hard to conceive how far New Zealand is from the rest of the world until you want to get away. If you fancy a change of scene, respite from winter, have a burning want to drink in another culture or want to reconnect with kin elsewhere in the world, you soon realise nothing less than a longish journey on a jet plane will fix your travel bug.

The upside of New Zealand’s geography is that some of its closest getaways are the most beautiful pacific islands where time runs at half speed and an almost endless supply of sunshine. The idyllic islands are the perfect haven for anyone looking to fly and flop for a few days for personal restoration.

As many kiwis flock to the ski fields for winter sports, I’m much happier escaping to find winter sun and nothing more to do than count the waves rolling in over the coral reef. It’s pure indulgence that takes a few days for me to lean into but soon island life takes its grip and you acquiesce to snoozing under the shady veranda, cooling dips in warm sea and leisurely dining al fresco. Couldn’t be more blissful.

It’s the kind of decadence I dream about at my desk as the wind-driven rain pummels down.

I find the edges of the day on vacation are most calming and meditative. As we transition between day and evening, night and day, the light is gentlest and most contemplative. It’s nature’s poetry that for a photographer drives an almost overwhelming compulsion to whip out the camera to capture the moment.

Those sunsets and sunrises may be beautifully crafted but their meaning can only sit in the mind of the real-time observer. A bit like all our holiday snaps really. Probably best kept to ourselves and used to prompt our memories when you’re back at home and in need of some pacifica elixir.

Or not :o)

And then I win. Words dance across the screen. But that blinking cursor is always one step ahead of me. And so the battle to turn thoughts into words starts all over again.

So there you have it. My version of writers block.  For years I’ve spilled the beans on my living a life in New Zealand until that blinking cursor got the better of me. The pull to beat that cursor ebbed away.

Of course, it’s not the cursor’s fault. Writing, or not writing, simply reflects the ebb and flow in life. Changing interests and changing times.

Knowing that this blog would pass its tenth anniversary in June, I planned to write a post that brought down the shutters for good. A finale to what’s been a fun thing to do.

But, somehow I couldn’t do it. Or at least not yet.

I figured if a basset hound could wear a little creativity then there is hope for me yet. So, I’m aiming for at least one journal, essay or story a week that I’ll publish on a Saturday or Sunday. A weekend treat. For me at least.

But when a fellow photographer suggests a detour to make the most of the gorgeous evening light, I’m unpacking the camera bag right away. As we pulled into Finn Slough (pronounced Finn Slew) close to where my friend Sabrina lives near Vancouver I was slightly baffled by what we had come to see.

Depending on who you speak to, Finn Slough is either a squatters commune , historical fishing village, artistic or alternative living community. Truth lies somewhere among all of those definitions thrown in with a touch of enchanting magic, or maybe that was just the light.

Nestling into the landscape of the Fraser River, the residents of Finn Slew have built on the legacies of the first Finnish settlers in 1880s. They live in houses on stilts or in former net lofts above the river in tune with nature of this coastal environment. They are also fighting to gain their rights to a Crown lease who owns the land to make their residency bona-fide and beat away property developers hungry to turn Finn Slough into a modernised version of this riverside idyll complete with condos and other conveniences of modern life.

Finn Slough is one of the most photographic landscapes I’ve visited in a while. It’s tumble-down style belies a thoughtful ironic sense of humour that playfully makes fun of mainstream living.  See this house and doorway below, it’s not what it seems.

The evening light waits for no-one so we made the most of seeing as much as we can in the golden hour. It’s not hard to see how this would be a haven for local photographers to visit often. It felt good to have a camera in my hands again so here’s a few of the photographs I made. It was the perfect spot to end a perfect day in the company of a wonderful friend.

Snowdrops are some of the most determined yet delicate plants to have in the garden, a symbol of how nature battles on regardless to signal that new seasons are on the horizon. Time for new starts.

These snowdrops were crying out to be shared with the world a short while before the house sitters moved in and we start a new travel adventure for a few weeks. Seems a good a time as any to see if I can rekindle my blogging life as a domestic executive that has been so illusive since I wrote my last post.

So here goes…….

Aside from the lingering sense of nervousness, the after effects of the Christchurch earthquake only show up in my outlook on life. Facing a life threatening situation does wonders for your sense of perspective of what’s important and what’s not. Although there is a big wide world to experience and embrace, ultimately it is only those you love and care about that really matter most.

Ten days ago our world was shook up and thrown down in the most brutal way. The aftershocks are painful and I need more strength than I have within me now to write much about it yet. But, the painful fact is that on 12 February we said farewell to our Big Basset, Fortnum. Yes, our larger than life hound is gone from our lives. It was fast from a cancer we didn’t know he had.

I am mad as hell about what’s happened and bereft at the enormous gap that can never be filled. Fortnum’s life was full but too short, he was 7 and a half.

It’s not like you can ever prepare yourself for the loss of a loved one but the nature of Big Basset’s passing has deepened the shock and grief. Our daily routines that seemed so important before have fallen away, partly because they are a constant reminder of Fortnum but mostly because they just don’t seem to matter any more.

Our bassets arrived as a pair. A big one and a little one. A noisy one and a quiet one. One that runs and another that trots. They were a perfect balance, each with their own personalities and foibles but as a package they couldn’t be better matched. Even their names only really make sense when spoken together.

Little basset is doing well but he’s never had to be a solo basset. Emotionally and practically we have massive challenges ahead. We’re taking it one day at a time. People tell me it will get easier but so far the pain just dulls until a little aftershock arrives and the grief rolls over in overwhelming waves.

Mason says it all with big deep sighs. It’s like an expulsion of air to take the edge of the hurt. A safety valve for the pressure that builds inside.

Intellectually I know that over time things will get better. It’s good to focus on practical things and professional work. Distracting the mind fools you thinking that life is OK. But it’s a fool’s game you can’t sustain.

Counting my blessings helps. Hugging Mason helps. Talking about Fortnum to all our dog loving friends helps. Crying helps. Receiving love and support from my husband, friends and family helps. The brutal truth is part of our family is gone and we just need to let grief play its gruesome game.

And when that’s done, we’ll be able to celebrate, remember and give thanks for all Fortnum brought into our lives.

It only seems right to confess that we’re back eating devil’s food. The kind of food that makes your cholesterol rise, your blood sugar levels spike and brings your intestines out in hives. For all the downsides of the humble loaf there is nothing so versatile as a slice of bread, whether as it comes or toasted golden brown.

As with all things in life, moderation is key. Long gone are the days of toast for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch and a sneeky slice to quash those ad-hoc hunger pangs. Instead a slice of bread is reserved as a treat for weekends, high days or holidays, and making a naked soup into a wholesome meal.

Having spent almost two years experimenting with alternative wheat free “breads” I decided that it wasn’t worth the compromise. Admittedly our breads at home are made either with spelt or rye and it feels like a fair balance of pleasurable and healthy eating. There is nothing better than to rustle up a soda bread early on a weekend morning in time to eat it for brunch. Although I do wonder from time to time whether I should give the tried and tested quick artisan bread another go.

I know this may sound a bit dumb but one of the things I noticed most about coming back to eating bread is how floury bread tastes. There is much debate on what might constitute the perfect soda bread.   I now swear by Richard Corrigan’s recipe for the perfectly balanced no yeast bread as it brings a lighter touch and creamy texture without a hint of excess flour.

Most of all this bread feels like bread. It has bite, structure, and chew that no without-breads ever did. If this is the work of the devil, I’m delighted to be back riding with the devil again.

Sure, some previous competitors carve out new careers for themselves as professionals or cook book authors but mostly the stars of the show go back to their day jobs and being home-bakers. Now if that’s not keeping it real, I’m  not sure what is.

As someone who has struggled with various perspectives of baking over the years I fully appreciate the dramas that unfold in the Bake-Off tent. How misread recipes, lack of know-how and artistic inadequacies can leave you physically exhausted and mentally tortured. Yet when the conditions are right and you’re in the baking flow producing a physical structure that both looks and tastes good can be one of the most satisfying things to do.

My cake baking is more intermittent these days much to the disappointment of my husband who sees not serving cake with afternoon tea as a sacrilegious act. Although I would never make the cut for GBBO I have been perfecting the art of the loaf cake over winter using a basic recipe a tweaking to bring a little variety to the plate.    This edition was classic date and walnut I enjoyed best when indulged with one of my favourite blue cheese.

Date and Walnut Loaf

2 Cups of Ground Walnuts (Lightly toast the oven first and when cool whizz them up in the food processor until they are like fine breadcrumbs)

1 Cup Almond Flour

5 eggs

1 cup of dates (used dried dates or you could use the rather more expensive but sweet medjool dates)

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tbsp apple cider vinegar

1 tsp baking soda

Pinch of salt

Pre-heat the oven to 160 degrees C and line a loaf tin with baking paper.

Put all the ingredients into a food processor and blend until smooth.  It takes a minute or so for everything to blend into a smooth pourable batter.

Pour the cake batter into the prepared loaf tin.  Bake for 40-60 minutes (mine took 60 minutes) or until the a skewer prodded into the cake comes out clean.

Lift from the loaf tin and cool on a wire rack.

Serve on it’s own with a steaming brew or for a luxurious treat with a crumbling of creamy blue cheese.

It seems I’m a magnet for this year’s winter germs. Passing from one client office to another has exposed me to a multitude of corporate infections, not to mention my nearest and dearest bringing home his own version to share. It’s been a double whammy, winter blues and bugs that annoyingly don’t make you bed ridden for a few days but instead cause malingering tendencies and an overwhelming desire to stay in your pyjamas all day. And, just when you think you’ve kick the nasty into touch it’s back like a punchbag to knock you sideways again.

I’m fed up with feeling below par, tired, grumpy and dealing with stuff that seems to break. First it was the water filtration system that cleanses the rainwater we harvest, then the washing machine packed in and after a few minor mishaps technology wise I managed to shatter the screen on my iPhone. Each of those things in itself is annoying but manageable, it’s the nightmare of getting replacements and repairs blighted by failed deliveries and obstreperous insurance people with weasel ways that strains what little resilence and patience I still have.

The hounds haven’t minded too much though as they’ve been able to waddle around their walks at basset pace without the usual impatient calls to hurry up, be quick and cruelly getting them excited about something fictitious for them to chase. No, for them it’s been basset business as usual with their noses to the ground and digging around the undergrowth sniffing out unmentionable things.

It’s hard not to let them have their hour of play. After all what else does a hound have in life but eating, sleeping and lounging around hogging the space on the sofa. To be fair they deserve a little downtime as Mason is nursing an injured tail from some rather too rough play at doggie day care and Fortnum has become such a frequent visitor to the vets of late that he is known by every nurse and vet who works there.

Poor Big Basset has been prodded and poked in the relentless search for what’s causing him to drink copious amounts of water. Good news is that it’s not cushings or addisons disease and although he has tested negative for diabetes we’re now seeing whether its diabetes insipidus which involves me collecting urine samples which I have learned takes a lot of skill if you’re not to alarm your basset too much!

Aside from being a total misery there are lots of fun things happening too but most exciting of all is that the days are longer and brighter so you might actually believe summer was on its way. Tune in soon, I promise to be back with a little more cheer.

Learning from my experience and knowing that the inspirational highs are usually chemically induced by the brain I aim to save leaders, however well-intentioned their aspirations, by invoking the 48 hour rule. This is the coaching equivalent of the cooling off period to test the resilience of the idea and their own commitment to following through. If after two days they are still giddy with excitement and determined to succeed then I am ready with the turbo-booster to kick-start them on their way.

So many ideas burst into life and then flicker and die so using the 48 hour rule is a nifty way of sifting out the truly brilliant ones and helping to save yourself from later disappointment, embarrassment or humiliation. But there’s been an idea composting away in the recesses of my mind for a long time.  Think 48 months not 48 hours.

Long story short.  I’ve wanted to extend my food loving habits into a personal project/potential business and finally I have found the courage to put the idea into the world.  I am excited and terrified at the same time.

Working with a couple of friends the proposed result is Food Gatherings which will run a supper club, retreats and other food focused events as a way to bring people together to meet, eat and be inspired. The core idea is to create a community that makes self-development a fun social occasion. This is very much a side-project to my day job but one that is shaping up to be an exciting ride judging by the early results of a questionnaire on survey monkey. The survey is designed to test the concept and find the sweet spot for people to join in.

So if you were wondering why I might need your help, it’s because I’d love you to complete the survey too. Even if it’s not totally your thing I trust readers of my blog to give me an honest opinion and share their own bright ideas with me.  If you can’t face the prospect of completing it but would be happy to talk to me then leave me a comment and I’ll be in touch.  Here’s the link to the survey https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/M8RDP7X . If you want to complete the survey but want UK pounds or US/Canadian dollar version let me know in the comments. Please be free and frank with your opinions whatever they are!

There’s an exciting view in front but I’m still tethered to the bank for a little longer. At least long enough to listen to what people think and combine all the great ideas together to make a magnificent adventure. Wish me luck.