“I wish I’d married someone compliant..”, I said.
“Why? So that everyone would go along with your crazy plans?” he replied.
It’s hard to believe that twenty-seven years have passed since this photo was taken. I can’t say that it’s been a doddle, but after all this time, he still finds me amusing and I still think he’s a superhero. We make each other laugh a dozen times a day. And there are no pointy bits in our relationship, if that makes sense. We’re very blessed… ♥
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Twenty years ago, we were having dinner at Nick and Mary’s house, eating cucumbers that Mary’s Greek father had grown in his backyard. They were a revelation. Ever since that day, I’ve been desperate to grow them at home, so we could eat them straight out of the garden.
This year, we’ve finally found a variety that grows really well. It’s called Marketmore and our seeds came from Mr Fothergill. This mildew resistant variety is growing prolifically in our backyard – we harvested seventeen cucumbers yesterday, six the day before that, and twelve the day before that. The skins are quite thick and a bit prickly, so we peel them before turning them into Greek salad (in honour of Mary’s dad) or eating them dipped in ssamjang. (PS. Pete’s tip is to pick them while they’re still small enough to be a bit bumpy!)
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Also growing in our garden is a grafted fingerlime tree. It’s supposed to have multi-coloured fruit, but to date, it’s only ever produced green ones. The rinds are very bitter, but the little pearls are deliciously citrussy.
The tree itself is under negotiation – it seems to fruit at a ratio of half a dozen small fingerlimes per billion thorns. It’s threatening to grow extremely large and its position adjacent to the driveway is already proving problematic. Pete’s not happy, but he’s indulging me for now – I so love having such an unusual tree in our backyard.
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There’s something very rewarding about eating our own produce. My breakfast yesterday was well-toasted sourdough, topped with cucumber, my marinated feta and fingerlime pearls, finished with a good drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, a little Malden salt and a grind of black pepper. It wasn’t pretty, but it was very, very tasty.
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We’ve been friends with Marty and Joyce since we were teenagers. I have a lifetime of hilarious shared adventures with them, but perhaps my fondest story is of our visit to a food court in Chinatown. We were nineteen at the time and we’d sent Marty off to get food while we minded the table. He returned with an enormous plate from the all-you-can-eat buffet – enough to feed all four of us for the $4.50 he’d paid.
It was a genius piece of engineering – he’d begun by positioning chicken wings around the edge of the plate to extend its capacity, then proceeded to layer various dishes on top until the pile was a good 15cm (6″) high. After we’d stopped laughing, we demolished the plate with the four forks he’d brought back, then went off in search of dessert. It’s one of my favourite eating stories ever.
Last week, more than thirty years after that fabulous meal in Chinatown, we found ourselves sitting at Marty’s bar, drinking his spectacular Young Henry’s cider slushy. The mad bugger works as an A&E specialist, trains for ironman events, and owns a bar. A couple of weeks ago, his hair was green and he won the My Little Pony award from his cycling club. It’s too wonderful for words that some things never change, and our darling friend is still stark raving bonkers. Long may it continue.
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One of my favourite authors, Peter Dickinson, passed away at the end of last year on his 88th birthday. The short stories written by Peter and his wife Robin McKinley are some of the best I’ve ever read. I’m in the process of rereading them all and if you’re looking for well crafted, beautifully eloquent prose, I can’t recommend them highly enough. They’re now all available on Kindle.
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“Can you keep small children awake for a few hours?” asked Will.
Desperate to combat jetlag, our friends arrived with Not-A-Baby-Anymore Grace and her big brother Tom. I immediately fed them chocolate chip cookies, then put them in front of the balancing animals. Tom proved particularly gifted, whereas Grace needed a little more help. She did, however, declare her Princess Twilight Sparkle stack to be the best!
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Wishing you all a glorious, relaxing weekend.
May it be filled with joyous everyday stories!
Fig Jam and Lime Cordial 