Wednesday, 23 November 2011

November 23rd - An Aga is not a fashion accessory

Dear Nigel,

Good news, my bereavement period due to the loss of my Aga - still in the old house- is coming to an end.My ex- has promised to bring it over and install it by late february. It is a well-travelled Aga as this will be its fifth house, but then i wouldn't choose to leave the dog behind either. It does mean it won't be here for Christmas, but  we'll cope with this strange whirring cooker from which things keep falling off all the time. My ex- says it is a superior machine but i notice he's not planning to use it but is getting another Aga for himself; not particularly for cooking  on but for its looks and comfort, i suppose. - Could see a direct parallel there if i thought about it, so i won't.

I look at your ritual for cooking rice with awe and amazement. I still haven't completely sussed the route to the perfect rice. Sometimes i think i've got it right and then the next time i'm busy taking a lode of washing out of the machine and i forget and it's turned to wallpaper paste. I still make them eat it, though, and if anyone looks as if they're about to say anything, i frown.Come to think of it, you never see Nigella going upstairs with a pile of freshly laundered knickers or Delia removing the Turkey from just beyond the dog's jaws in the nick of time. Why not? I think i would prefer to see a bit of real life going on around these television presenter/cooks, all working supposedly from their beloved homes.

You say you ate too much yesterday so cook something light and simple today. We either have a feast or famine here. Sometimes the reasons are to do with time and what's been happening - last night, for instance, i was rushing out early to a concert. The children had been making shortbread shapes, pummelling them into submission on the baking sheets and throwing most of the mixture on to the floor, where the dog was eagerly hoovering up. Consquently, dinner was a batch of boiled eggs and soldiers. No longer from my beloved hens - Esmerelda, the tart, and my stand-offish cream legbar with her beautiful blue eggs, and the other girls - but free-range, at least, from the supermarket. Must find myself a decent supplier locally . I just haven't bothered to make the effort as yet. Keep hoping the house will sell and we'll be able to have a little patch of garden somewhere big-enough for the children to be able to take their little wire henbasket out to collect the  still-warm eggs from out of their straw beds.

Hope you feel cleansed and purified once more,


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