From here to there.

This is how one of my paintings was shaping up, pre Spain.

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And, this is how it is now, post Spain.

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Mmmm.

But now I’m sick and the painting will have to wait.

But that’s O.K. because I’ve had another sign.

I know I said I didn’t believe in signs, and I don’t, but look.

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The Bok Choy never lies.

If you remember, first there was the tea cup.

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And now the veggies.

I feel well loved.

So, when I was home I had some yummies. First, of course, there was the fish and chips.

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But I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would and I worried that I’d lost my love for it.

It looks good here, but mine was greasy and the chips were not cool.

Then there was the pork pie.

PORK PIES

AS delicious as ever.

And, then, something I haven’t had since I was a little girl visiting my old nan up the Roman Road.

Pie and mash.

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Don’t judge it until you’ve had it. It’s yum and then some.

I also had a sausage roll.

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Which was super yum because look how bad it is for you.

And, my all time favourite – a sausage sarnie.

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Which everyone knows is almost as good as a chip butty.

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But I forgot to have one of those 🙁

I wouldn’t not (I know, grammar) have eaten them for the world but, let me tell you, I’m glad to be back home and in control of the vegetable count.

I even had one of these.

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And this is where I had it.

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Well, around the corner of that pub actually – here.

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The Lock at Heybridge Basin.

Of course, talking of pubs, we just had to have few of these also.

A pint of bitter being pulled in an English pub

But, just you tell me, who wouldn’t?

My favourite sweets – rhubarb and custard.

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I had the last one yesterday 🙁

And my favourite crisps.

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Hula Hoops!

But it wasn’t all about eating the food I can’t get here in Houston.

It really was about just being home again.

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This was my Parish Church.

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Church of St Helen and St Giles

Where I had to get my banns read so that I could be married.

This is the City of Winchester, where I got my art degree.

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And which was briefly the home of Jane Austin, and where she died.

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You’d think they might touch up the windows.

This is where we used to pick watercress on the way home and make potato and watercress soup for tea. Ah the luxuries of student life.

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Look. They even have a festival!

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Who knew!

I lived in Old Arlesford, Hampshire, and I didn’t know it was the world’s center of watercress. Where was I?

Man! Just made myself homesick again 🙁

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You were just here.

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And one day I’m going to convince P that we need to go live there again.

No, no, you can’t stop me!

Happy Sunday

🙂

And now we take you back to our normal programme.

I had a bit of a moment yesterday with the whole Nobel Peace Prize thing so I’m bringing it back down today.

I think it might have had something to do with the birthday champagne the night before, denial of my new age, and also the sugar rush from the tiramisu cupcake that I unceremoniously stuffed into my mouth for breakfast yesterday in that whole – don’t worry about frosting on the nose lets just stuff the whole thing in your face manner you see in the movies.

I don’t even like cake, but these were something else. BTW, thanks J for busting my diet I have to reluctantly go back to visit the caveman now …

Soooo, I found this.

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Michou P. Anderson

Can you say, oh my god, what!

Now, it might not exactly be your cup of tea but how on earth did she manage this?

It kind of reminds me of the pink bubblegum blobs my friend made when we took a lamp work class a couple of years back –

in that, night and day way.

So, what to do today?

These are waiting for me in some kind of limbo land.

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And, help it now, this has been in the kiln for ever just waiting for some friends to join it for the next firing party.

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So I think it might just be time to get to it.

Oh, and here’s a doodle to cheer you up.

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Just in case you need it.

Hold that short news.

I haven’t abandoned this blog to the Reluctant Caveman. I’m just having trouble juggling the two of them.

Once my 30 days are up, (yes, I’m in prison. All tea privileges are taken away) I will be back in force.

With new lovelies.

Such as this.

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And, this.

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And I will have glorious tales of victory and defeat, and anger and frustration, and joy and …

What ever.

So, hold tight, keep strong, and lets hope this new diet doesn’t take me out completely.

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Mission possible?

I have moved my tales of woe and torture regarding my The Whole 30 experience over to its own, brand new, tales of woe and torture blog.

The Reluctant Caveman

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And, yes, I can eat that whole egg!

Come and visit me from time to time, just to make sure I’m still alive and haven’t wasted away.

I’m not moving from here, however, just separating the food stuff from the other stuff in my life. Because, the food stuff part is about to get a bit rough, let me tell you, as I navigate through the does and don’t of how to survive while EATING NOTHING!!!

O.K. not strictly true.

ALMOST NOTHING!!!

Told you it was getting rough.

My cuppeth is emptyeth.

sad-face-1And yes, K, this is exactly how I feel.

So, in a nutshell,

I’m going to this wedding and it’s in Spain, and I just can’t get my head around what I’m going to wear because I still haven’t lost the weight I would like to lose, and so I don’t want to go, but, it’s my brother in law’s wedding and I like him, and I like her, and they’ve asked us to be witnesses, which is an honour, but I’d rather be dead than wear anything other than my jeans and black t shirt which have been a staple for years now and I don’t think I’ll be able to get away with that in Spain and at a wedding … (breathe).

And, when I say staple, I mean staple. I don’t think I’ve even seen my legs.

(O.K. I have).

Now, this is a problem for me. A BIG problem. I mean, would you go to your child’s wedding in jeans and a black t shirt? No. Which means I can’t either. I’ve told all three of them that they would be happier, believe me, to just run away somewhere, get married, then come back and tell me.

But, I don’t think that’s going to fly.

And now there’s this wedding – in Spain.

Now, I’m not that heavy, really I’m not, and I’m not that vain. But, it’s a kind of body dysmorphia thing. You know the one where everyone else looks great except you. In fact, you think you look hideous, and not just in a, what was she thinking, kind of way, but more in the Hunchback of Notre Dame way. Sorry Hunchback.

And, when I remember to think about this, I’m miserable.

I can get by with it most of the time as I don’t have to go out. I can go to my studio and ignore myself. But, I feel really uncomfortable doing most other things – especially weddings. Why do people have to do that? It just messes me up completely.

So K, who studies health and nutrition, said she could help me. I thought that by losing a few pounds it would help me to start getting over this whole what the #*^^’s wrong with you problem, and, when she offered her help, I thought, how hard can it be …

As a nutritionist, I imagined she would say, O.K. eat a bit more of this, a little less of this – I was even ready to go to, a lot less than this, but I should have known.

Now I’m on the Whole 30.

No. Don’t talk to me about it. I’m not listening. It’s already annoying me.

You see, it’s the tea.

No milk.

And, there you have it. My only comfort in life, gone. Snuffed out with two simple words – no dairy.

Here is my lovely new cup.

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Empty.

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Magpie Pottery

It’s the end of the world as I know it.

And K, don’t you mention the C word again..

🙁

NOTES:

First day: Thick head. Depression (probably because I feel sorry for myself and don’t like being told what to do). And, this morning –  the second day – aches and pains down the outsides of both legs, and, if I might say, buttocks.

If I die on this K, you’ll be hearing from me …

Let Captain America do it.

Now here are some British food-stuffs that aren’t good.

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Oh yes, they might look yummy, especially the pud – (po͝od for anyone not familiar with English slang pronunciation), but be warned, you will be exposing your taste buds to grave disappointment, if not impending nausea, if you break down and try one.

Don’t do it is all the advice I can offer. After that I’m afraid you’re on your own.

Look at that plum pudding trying to dress itself up as something interestingly delicious. It’s definitely interesting, but, you can believe me when I say, not in the good way.

And, those mince pies. I have to make them every year for P, and every year I wonder what on earth would make anyone eat them. Even if I had to to save the world from imminent destruction, I’m sorry, I couldn’t do it. I would just have to phone Captain America instead. Let him eat the darn things.

I know there are some of you out there who love these food abominations, so forgive me for differing, but – yuck, yuck and more yuck.

Even the smell of them …

If you must, you can read about the history of the Christmas Pud –here. But, be warned, it will do nothing to make you think you would even want to be in the same room as one. Especially the kind they ate in the very beginning.

And I thought the one they ate today was bad.

If my disgust at these traditional, so called, food items makes me appear un English, so be it. You can not make me eat them.

No you can’t.

Christmas-stress

Merry Christmas.

Happy Holidays.

or

Just happy anything … 🙂

No really, it’s good. Trust me.

I’m kind of getting my food cravings in a twist.

I’m not really sure if they’re actual cravings or just romanticized rememberings.

Here’s my latest.

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Mrs King’s Pork Pies.

The famous, Melton Mowbray Pork Pie.

(I wanted a bigger picture, but perhaps that will just make my craving worse.)

You’ve got to taste this to know how good it its. (Except you K. You can’t have any).

Actually, I can’t have any either, unless I go home. And that’s probably a good thing as I’m trying to focus on healthy eating right now, not that that’s completely working for me.

Nothing wrong with fantasy eating though.

I would have it with a nice salad. Lots of crisp lettuce and, preferably, those lovely little cherry/grape tomatoes – but, only if they’re firm, not squishy.

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And, wait for it.

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Because, as some bottles state, it’s, pourable sunshine, and who wouldn’t want to eat that on their salad?

If you’re low on excitement today, you can read about our love of salad cream – here.

What’s your craving and I’ll go check it out …

(Just in case you were wondering, Siri doesn’t have a favourite).