TODAY IS THE START OF CHINESE NEW YEAR, THE YEAR OF THE OX.
I have been told that people born in the Year of the Ox are: responsible, dependable, honest, caring, honourable, intelligent, artistic, industrious and practical.
However, they are also: petty, inflexible, possessive, dogmatic, gullible, stubborn, critical, intolerant and materialistic.

If you were born between February and the following January in the years 1925, 1937, 1949, 1961, 1973,1985 or 1997 you're an Ox.

READING:

Last week I picked up a copy of A Poisoned Mind by Natasha Cooper from the new books shelf in Highgate Literary and Scientific Institution library. Even though I have a huge pile of books waiting to be read, something about this one made me get stuck in straight away, and I was immediately hooked.

On the cover there is a comment from a renowned crime writer describing the book as one of the best legal thrillers she’d ever read, and I would agree.

The story opens on a failing Northumberland farm, where a company called Clean World Waste Management have leased some land as a site for two chemical waste disposal tanks. The tanks blow up causing a conflagration in which the farmer is killed and the surrounding farmland is polluted.

Angie, the farmer’s widow, aided by members of an environmental pressure group, is taking the corporate giant to court in an attempt to get proper compensation.

Trish Maguire QC, whose sympathies lie with the widow, finds herself having to set aside personal feelings as she has to represent Clean World Waste Management. As the trial proceeds she begins to wonder what exactly has been going on, the eco-hippies who are supporting Angie may have a hidden agenda – not all do-gooders are truthful it would seem.

At the same time, Trish is coping with a troubling friendship between her teenage brother David (for whom she and her husband are responsible), and Jay, a schoolmate he keeps bringing home, who comes from a dysfunctional and abusive family.

Which situation is more poisonous, the chemical waste explosion, or the alcohol and drug fuelled lives of Jay’s family?

I had never come across Natasha Cooper’s books featuring Trish Maguire before, but joy of joys there are another eight for me to read – A Poisoned Mind is the latest – so I intend to read them in order so that I can follow Trish’s progression up the legal career ladder. She is a heroine I took to immediately, intelligent, feisty, professional and very real.

What a treat I have in store.

Rated: 4.5


RANTING:

If a colleague, friend, relative or loved one died in police custody, whilst serving in the armed forces, or when accidentally hit by an emergency vehicle you would probably want to attend the inquest to find out how and why they died, and who was responsible.

Citizens would be deprived of this right if this government has its way.

Last year the clause in the Counter-terrorism Act which would have allowed some inquests to be held in private was dropped, following fierce opposition from all sides. However the proposals have been included in the legislation covering Coroners Courts which has just been introduced to Parliament.

The plan is to have juries, families, and the press excluded from some inquests which would be held in secret with hand-picked coroners, on the grounds of – you guessed it – ‘national security’. I’ll bet that they will use it whenever some death might be going to be an embarrassment, or an inquest might point a finger at the failings of government departments

The whole idea of secrecy in trials or inquests makes my blood run cold – it smacks of Stalinist Russia, and of the old apartheid regime in South Africa.

Why is this Labour government so hell bent on getting this clause on to the statute books?

Yet again they are chopping away at hard won liberties which once kept this country a beacon of freedom and democracy. We must not let these rights be whittled away one by one.

RECIPE:

This dish is a hybrid, not quite a fritatta, not quite a Spanish omlette, a bit like a quiche without a pastry crust. It takes hardly any time to make and is a great meal served with a salad, stretching two salmon fillets to feed four people.

SALMON ‘n EGGS

Serves 4

8 large eggs

2 fillets salmon (300-400g)

Juice of half a lemon

8 spring onions

2 tablespoons chopped coriander

Salt & pepper

1 tablespoon (approx) butter

2 tablespoons corn oil

Pre-heat the grill.

Cut the salmon fillets into smallish dice.

Finely slice the spring onions.

Beat the eggs until slightly frothy, season sparingly with salt and pepper.

Heat the butter and oil in a medium sized frying pan, and when hot add the salmon pieces and drizzle the lemon juice over them. Stir over a gentle heat until the salmon has changed colour and is nearly cooked through, then tip in the eggs, the chopped coriander and the spring onions. Using a wooden spatula, gently mix everything together. Then let it cook for about a minute. Lift the edges gently with the spatula to let any runny egg seep downwards before placing the frying pan under the pre-heated grill for a couple of minutes to allow the eggs to firm up and brown very slightly on top.

Cut into four wedges and serve garnished with coriander leaves. A side salad of tomato, cucumber and lettuce with a tangy dressing is perfect with this dish.

THINGS I DISCOVERED WHEN MOVING HOUSE:
We seem to have the definitive collection of late 20th Century plastic shoe horns. I'm thinking of offering them to the V&A Museum for a special exhibition.

READING:

I’ve no idea why I picked up The Memory of Running by Ron McLarty, apart from the fact I quite liked the cover design, which is an entirely frivolous method of book selection but a method I must confess I use rather often. Anyway, I’m very glad I did because the hero, Smithson ‘Smithy’ Ide, is one of the most interesting and engaging characters I’ve ever encountered.

The book begins with the death of Smithy’s parents in an automobile accident, and this obese, virtually alcoholic, 40 year old has to sort out their affairs. Whilst in the process of doing that, a letter arrives for his father to say that a body being held in a morgue in California has been identified as that of his long missing older sister Bethany. Smithy, whose family lives in Providence, Rhode Island is not sure quite what to do. He gets on his old boyhood bike, and wearing just the clothes he stands up in and carrying virtually no money he goes out for a ride – and he doesn’t stop. The ride turns into an amazing journey as he cycles right across the USA to retrieve his sister’s remains. In the course of the journey with all it’s highs and lows, its moments of danger and of joy, he reveals his memories of his life, his family, his sister’s very challenging mental illness, and his time in Vietnam. The journey heals him, changes him and reveals true love to him. In many ways Smithy is the archetypal innocent abroad in society, and I really, really wanted him to find happiness at the end.

Some of the descriptions of the American landscape are truly beautiful, and the reader gets a real feeling for the immensity and variety of the country, and the diversity of the people who live there.

I guess I’d sum the book up as having been an unexpected pleasure – and despite the title, there is nothing about running in the book at all !

Rated: 4.5*

RANTING:

My local corner shop is owned and run by a Muslim family, it sells newspapers and magazines, bus passes, milk, a small range of groceries, wine, beer and fizzy drinks, and the best vegetable samoosas in north London. There are thousands of these little shops all over the UK. We get our papers there everyday, and other items from time to time. Although they are muslims and don’t drink it themselves, they choose to stock and sell alcohol. They don’t need to do so, as there is an off-licence just down the road, but they do it because the majority of Britons do drink alcohol therefore it is good business and it is legal.

So what the hell is this ridiculous nonsense with some Muslim employees in Sainsbury’s objecting to handling bottles or cans of alcoholic drink at the checkout tills, or on the shelves on the grounds that it is against their religion? Sainsbury’s is a huge supermarket chain with hundreds of branches, stocking thousands of lines of products. It seems total madness to allow some employees to pick and choose what they will or will not handle. Apparently the management have said that if a Muslim checkout person comes across alcohol in the shopper’s goods, they can raise a hand, and another – presumably non-Muslim – member of staff will come and pass the item over the laser scanner, after which the Muslim member of staff can resume checking out the goods. What a stupid, time wasting idea.

You can just imagine it can’t you; it’s 6.30pm on a Friday evening, you have a full trolley load of food, drink and household necessities, the checkout queues are horrendous, there are children crying, harassed shoppers anxious to get home asap, everyone is tired and stressed after a busy week. Your checkout is manned by a lady wearing the hijab, in every trolley of the four people ahead of you in the queue there is alcohol of some variety. The same is true of almost all the trolleys in all the queues. Every time the checkout lady raises her hand for someone else to come and scan the demon drink, there is a long wait as there are not enough staff available.
Customer satisfaction will be at an all time low. And why? Is it because Sainsbury’s think they are practicing religious tolerance? If a staff member says they cannot ever do a Sunday shift because they are Christian, are special arrangements made for them? I’d take a bet they’d either not be employed in the first place or be given their P45 pdq.

Sainsbury’s should be telling all prospective and current employees that either they handle all the goods that the company sells when required to do so, or seek a job elsewhere.

Over zealous, mistaken interpretations of religious prohibitions just lead the religion in question into disrepute.

RECIPE:

We've only been in our new abode for six nights and as friends have brought meals round or we've nipped out for a quick bite after hours of unpacking boxes, moving furniture around and so on, I haven't really got to grips with cooking on the new stove. Today I thought it was time to get back to normality and decided to make a quick fish supper for the DH and myself before he set off for a meeting and I flopped in front of the telly.
We are now living in Muswell Hill which boasts one of London's best fishmongers, Walter Purkis & Sons, so I bought some haddock from them and cooked it like this:

BAKED FISH SUPPER
Serves 2 (just increase the number of fillets etc to feed more people).

2 good sized haddock fillets
300-400g each
150g chestnut (brown) mushrooms sliced
5 tablespoons crème fraiche
2 tablespoons butter
Salt and Pepper

Heat the butter in a small frying pan and sauté the sliced mushrooms in it until cooked and beginning to colour. Remove from heat. Grease an oven proof dish and lay the haddock fillets in it. Season them with salt and pepper.
Spoon the sautéd mushrooms with their buttery juices over the fish and then splodge the crème fraiche over everything as evenly as possible. Bake in a pre-heated oven, 180 C, for about 20-25 minutes until bubbling and beginning to brown.
Serve with steamed new potatoes and a green salad.

A PINCH AND A PUNCH FOR THE FIRST OF THE MONTH, AND NO RETURNS.

Last week Mark at The Book Depository was offering ten bloggers books to review, and I was fortunate enough to be one of the ten. I haven't received the book yet, but of course,when I do I will post my views here too . Head over to the Book Depository because Mark is going to be making other offers over the next weeks, and there is nothing a reader likes better than to get their hands on a new book

READING:

I’ve only ever read one novel by Douglas Kennedy and wasn’t that impressed but so many people told me that they had really enjoyed his books that I felt I should try another, so I picked up his most recently published work The Woman in the Fifth,

Narrated by Harry Ricks, a Professor of Film Studies at a Midwestern college who has just lost his wife, daughter, job and money, it all takes place in Paris. In fact the book could have just as easily been entitled ‘Naïve American Down and Out in Paris’. Harry arrives in the city in the bleak days after Christmas, running away from the scandal caused by his affair with a student – something that is totally taboo in the politically correct USA, and when he arrives in France he continues to make really bad decisions. Within hours of his arrival a chain of unfortunate events begins and he is left with little money to fulfil his original plan of going to the cinema as often as possible whilst writing a novel based on his angst ridden childhood. He stumbles from one disastrous situation to another, renting a disgusting chambre de bonne in a houseful of immigrants in the quartier du Turc, and taking an illegal job as a night-watchman, working for shady employers who do not permit him to know what they are doing, but whatever it is is almost certainly criminal. Every euro he earns has to be carefully eked out, and the reader gets to know the detailed economics of his situation--- 38 euros for the treatment of a STD he has picked up, and then 2 euros for a packet of condoms (which he never uses) not to mention the costs of croissants, coffees, the weight of the fish , cheese and fruit he buys at the market etc.

At a salon held by another American ex-pat, he meets Margit Kadar, a sultry, mysterious Hungarian in her early fifties, with whom he embarks on a passionate affair -the raunchy sex scenes leaving little to the imagination. From the start Margit is in charge, and she will only see him at her apartment in the 5^th arrondissement at exactly 5pm twice a week.. Once Harry has met Margit, strange things begin to happen. Anyone who has ever treated him badly gets their comeuppance in a series of apparent accidents, dead bodies pile up and Harry is detained by the Police on several occasions. His life becomes threatened, and dangers swirl round him as he manages to antagonise a Turkish bar-owner, his nefarious employers, and his extremely nasty landlord in turn.

The plot becomes more and more surreal and Kafkaesqe; is Margit meant to be his avenging guardian angel? or a succubus who will not let him go?

I read right to the end of the book, hoping the author would eventually make sense of it all, but alas no such luck. The question I was left wondering is: Can you have sex with a ghost? I don't think so.

Rated 2*

RANTING:

Year in, year out, millions of us pay our premiums to insurance companies trusting that when and if trouble comes our way we will be covered financially. But all too often these days we hear that the insurance companies try their best to weasel out of paying the monies owed. Yesterday I heard of a case that made my blood boil.

A 29 year old married woman, mother of a two year old daughter, was killed when a suicidal motorist deliberately crashed into their family car. Her distraught husband, an electrician, now a loan parent, tried to make a claim for the death of his wife against their joint life insurance policy with Legal & General. After all, he was going to need to pay for child care amongst other things. To his surprise and distress, L&G refused to pay up, stating that his wife had withheld important information from them. What could that be?

The couple took out the insurance policy when she was pregnant with their daughter. She had given up smoking to become pregnant, and was no longer a smoker. So, on the insurance application form when they asked if she had smoked in the past 12 months, she answered, truthfully, ‘no’. Her husband who was still smoking at the time answered ‘yes’.

After her death L & G obtained her health records from the maternity unit and noted that someone had ticked the box marked ‘smoker’. Who knows what that meant - was it in the context that she had previously been a smoker? Did she know that whoever it was had ticked the box, so she could have refuted it?

So when she died in a car crash caused by a stranger, L& G refused to pay out. Because, they claimed, she was a smoker.

What kind of cheap trick is that? Smoking didn’t have anything to do with her death; it is morally reprehensible that they behaved like this, forcing her husband to go to court, and then at the last minute – 2½ years later- offering an out of court settlement of £100,000. I wonder what Tim Breedon, CEO of Legal & General, would think of such shoddy, despicable behaviour if he were the grieving husband.

The moral of the story is that Insurance companies will happily take your money for years, but they won’t pay out if they can possibly help it. B**tards.

RECIPE:

As I may have said, Monday night is always pasta night chez nous - I can hear my everloving first-born saying “for god’s sake Mum, you’re beginning to repeat yourself” - but we do eat pasta on other nights too, if the fancy takes me. Recently I made this for a Friday evening, and jolly good it was too.

SUPER SALMON PASTA
Serves four

4 skinless salmon fillets
4 Tablespoons Noilly Prat (or other dry Vermouth)
4 Tablespoons crème fraiche
6 Spring onions, finely chopped
1 Tablespoon chopped Dill
1 Tablespoon chopped Parsley
Sunflower oil for frying
Salt & Pepper

500 g pasta of your choice – farfalle, fusilli, penne or similar.

Put a pan of water to boil for the pasta. When boiling cook the pasta in the usual way.

Heat a splash of oil in a frying pan – just enough to stop the salmon from sticking – and when hot, place the salmon fillets to fry gently for about 2-3 minutes before turning them over and cooking the other side; it doesn’t matter if they go slightly brown, but try to keep them as lightly coloured as possible. Then add the spring onions and the Noilly Prat which will bubble up. With a wooden fork break the cooked salmon into large flakes, add the chopped dill and parsley and the crème fraiche. Cook for a few more minutes stirring gently so the NP, crème fraiche and herbs make a sauce.

Drain the cooked pasta, leaving a small amount of the cooking water in the pan, stir the salmon mixture through it and serve with extra parsley sprinkled on top if you want to garnish it.

IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT, AND I AM ABSOLUTELY KNACKERED AFTER TWO DAYS OF PROPERTY HUNTING. OFF TO HARDY COUNTRY TOMORROW TO STAY WITH FRIENDS - HOORAY.

READING:

Recently I had the good fortune to receive a copy of The Lying Tongue by Andrew Wilson from Susan Hill the acclaimed author and playwrite. She had mentioned on her blog (of which I am a regular reader) that she had six copies to give away and I was one of the lucky recipients.

Set in Venice and Dorset, this is a tale told by a young man who has recently left university with a degree in Art History called Adam Woods. He arrives in Venice and finds himself working as private assistant to a famous but reclusive English writer, Gordon Crace. Crace lives in a crumbling old palazzo, thick with dirt and neglect, surrounded by his superb art collection. He has not written anything for many years following his bestselling novel and Woods, who has ambitions to be a writer himself, eventually determines to write Crace’s biography but without telling his employer what he intends. Early on the reader becomes aware that dark secrets lurk in Crace’s past, and as Adam is a young man completely lacking in moral probity, things get very unpleasant indeed. Adam goes back and forth between Venice and Dorset whilst trying to gather background material on Crace and at the same time trying to get rid of a well established writer who also wishes to write the official biography of Gordon Crace. The reader is never sure quite what is happening as the shifting sands of corruption on which the protagonists are standing make this psychological thriller – which has homoerotic overtones – continuously murky. At the end of the book there is a brilliant, horrific and completely unexpected twist.

This is Andrew Wilson’s debut novel, although he has previously written the biography of one of the greatest crime writers, Patricia Highsmith. I feel sure that the film rights to The Lying Tongue will be snapped up, if they haven’t been already, and I can’t wait to read his next book.

RANTING:

In some totalitarian states the power-that-be have locked dissidents and other so-called trouble makers in mental institutions, claiming that they are mad. Now it seems that some of our own citizens are in danger of having the same thing done to them.

When Mark Davies, who is a keen and experienced swimmer, went for a swim down the River Severn, someone summoned the police and his little dip turned into a major event whereby three fire engines 25 firefighters and two rescue boats were called to try to “save” him; it culminated when he got out of the water and was promptly detained under Section 136 of the Mental Health Act 1983. Fortunately for him, the police doctor who examined him declared that he was perfectly sane and they had to release him after 2 hours.

Why was the Mental Health Act used against him in the first place one asks? There is no law prohibiting swimming in the Severn. There is no local bye-law prohibiting swimming in the river – hence the police had no grounds for arresting him for law breaking. He was not creating a Breach of the Peace, he wasn’t offending anyone, he was not naked, he was not creating a public disturbance…..all he was doing was quietly enjoying a swim.

The police should not be allowed to use the Mental Health Act against citizens who are doing something lawful that they disapprove of, unless there is real concern for the safety of the public.

Personally I think what he was doing was daft. I wouldn’t swim down any river if you paid me, nor would I climb Ben Nevis, or go whitewater rafting, but people do, and as far as I know they are not considered mentally ill. Things have reached a pretty pass when the Boys in Blue misuse the Mental Health Act to detain a citizen who is engaged in a peaceable and lawful activity.

What on earth would the late great John Betjeman make of it I wonder, in his famous poem ‘A Shropshire Lad’ he wrote about Captain Webb, the first man to swim the English Channel:

‘Swimming along -
Swimming along -
Swimming along from Severn,
And paying a call at Dawley Bank while swimming along to Heaven.’

RECIPE:

Another recipe that is as good in summer as it is in winter, and it combines two of my favourite things, cumin and chickpeas. I usually make it with Haddock, and last night when suddenly faced with another couple here for supper I used the frozen fillets which are sold in packs of 5/6 by M&S, Tesco, Waitrose and probably every other supermarket - a really useful standby to keep in the freezer.

MOROCCAN SPICY FISH with HERBED COUSCOUS

4 firm white fish fillets (skinless/boneless)
2 heaped teaspoons ground cumin
2 heaped teaspoons ground turmeric
2 heaped teaspoons ground cardamom
2 red peppers (capsicums) deseeded and sliced into strips
2 tins (410g each) chick peas, drained
Juice of ½ lemon
½ cup finely chopped fresh coriander
450ml hot chicken or vegetable stock
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

300g couscous
1 tablespoon olive oil
5-6 spring onions, finely chopped
½ cup finely chopped fresh coriander
450ml boiling water

Mix together the cumin, turmeric and cardamom and put on a flat plate.

Pat the fish fillets dry with kitchen paper and then turn them in the spice mix so they are completely coated. Put enough olive oil in a large frying pan over medium heat, and cook the fish gently on both sides until golden brown. Remove from the pan and set aside but keep warm.

Add a little more olive oil to the pan, and when hot, add the pepper strips and the chickpeas, fry gently for a few minutes then add the hot stock, chopped coriander and lemon juice. Cover the pan and simmer gently for about ten minutes until the peppers are soft and the liquid has reduced and thickened.

Put the couscous in a large heat-proof bowl, stir in the olive oil, chopped coriander and spring onions and pour on the boiling water, stir again and then leave for 10 minutes for the couscous to absorb the water and fluff up. When all the water has been absorbed, stir again, season to taste, then tip the couscous onto a large shallow serving dish.

Carefully place the fish fillets over the couscous and pour the chickpea and pepper mix over the fish. Garnish with some chopped coriander before serving.

A crisp green salad on the side is probably not traditional but goes very well with this dish.

ON SATURDAY NIGHT THE CLOCKS GO BACK by an hour and you get a longer lie-in on Sunday morning; however from then on it gets dark at an increasingly early time in the afternoon, which I find sooooo depressing. Summer is well and truly over, huddle under the duvet with a good book and some chocolate chip cookies and wait for Spring, that's my advice.

READING:

The Devil in the White City: Murder,Magic and Madness at the Fair that Changed America by Erik Larson was sent to me by a friend in the USA who is originally from Chicago.
I was completely absorbed in this book, it covered an aspect of American history I knew nothing about and I found it fascinating. Larson has managed to make this most unlikely subject wonderfully compelling. The intense politiking required to get this whole enormous project to come together - it very nearly failed - and the egos of all the personalities, the architects, engineers, local big-wigs, socially ambitious entrepreneurs make for a really interesting read. The Fair itself ran for several months and was a huge success, setting the benchmark for all other Expositions that followed. The optomistic dynamism of creating the World's Fair is counterbalanced by the dark destructive story of Dr H.H.Holmes a clever psychopathic physician who used the lure of the project and the Fair itself to entice an unknown number of young, independently wealthy women to work for him and who he then murdered in the most brutal way.
London has now embarked on a similarly ambitious project - the 2012 Olympics, and despite the fact that 113 years have passed, I think there are still many lessons to be learnt about how a huge project is brought to fruition like the White City was in 1893.
My only quibble with the book would be that it could have been edited down somewhat.

RANTING:
Sorry folks, its back to the veil.
When I had my very mild rant a week or so ago, I felt that others had really said all there was to be said on the subject of muslim women who cover their faces. I was wrong.
I suspect that at the back of much of the western disquiet over women being swathed head to toe in fabric - usually black - with only their eyes visible, was the unspoken feeling that wearing of the hijab, niqab etc were not necessarily based on religious conviction, but on the medieval cultural attitudes of some Muslim men towards women and sex.
This whole furore in Australia has let that cat right out of the bag. Apparently we are all (really?) sexual objects- meat- because we wear make-up, "revealing" clothing, and "sway suggestively" --oh yeah!? And men, poor, weak, feeble creatures that they are, have no option but to rape us because we are presenting ourselves as sexually available. What the f**k?
Others may think that this is just one extreme elderly man, out on a limb, preaching to the converted so to speak, and that he doesn't represent the vast majority of Muslims. That may well be true.
However, women all over the world, and in the western democracies in particular, have struggled long and hard, and some have died, to gain their equal rights in society. The vote, marriage and property rights, equal pay (still a bone of contention) and employment rights, proper education, contraception, have all been hard won. For centuries there have been male religious zealots - Roman Catholic, Dutch Reformed Church, and others who have wanted in their various ways to keep women barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen. So I believe passionately that women cannot let even one fanatical idiot go unchallenged when they make statements that could influence individuals and the whole attitude of sections of our communities as to how our sex is treated.
Don't get me wrong, I would not like this man to be banned from saying what he has said, - because by allowing him to speak out we know what we have to deal with, and it is better to have it out in the open. Now we must kick up such a stink about his views, that he, and his community will be in no doubt whatsoever that this way of thinking about women, men and sex is UNACCEPTABLE.
Tolerance means what it says - we TOLERATE your ideas, we don't accept them, we don't like them, we won't conform to them and we will publically criticise them, but we won't arrest you for them, silence you for them, and thus far we will not prohibit them - just remember, that our tolerance has it's limits, don't push it too far.

RECIPE:
Its Friday evening, and I have a mound of leftover mashed potato in the fridge, which means that Fish Cakes are on the menu tonight. They are so easy, so cheap and even people who say they don't like fish as well as the fussiest kids love them. The trick is to have the mashed potato available. What that means is that earlier in the week when you are making mash to serve with something else, make twice as much and save half. As for the fish. If you have left over cold salmon (which people sometimes do in summer) that's fine, but you can use pretty much any fish you like, including tinned salmon/tuna, or smoked fish such as mackerel or haddock...how much more versatile can a recipe be for heaven's sake?

FISH CAKES

Serves 4

500g mashed potato
500g fish (salmon fillets, leftover poached salmon, haddock, coley ..what you like)
4-5 spring onions, finely chopped, white and green
2 eggs
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
Salt & pepper
3 tablespoons plain flour
Homemade dried breadcrumbs made from stale bread (you can often buy bags of homemade dried breadcrumbs from Cypriot grocers)
Vegetable oil for frying.

If the fish you are using requires cooking, place it on a microwave proof plate, cover and cook on high for 3-4 minutes.

Flake the fish into a large bowl, season well and stir in the chopped parsley and chopped spring onion. Mix in the mashed potato; beat one of the eggs with a fork and work it in to the fish and potato mix.

Lay out three shallow bowls, one with flour, one with breadcrumbs and one with the remaining egg lightly beaten.

Using your hands form the fish mix into balls, flatten slightly to form a pattie shape (not too thin), and roll in the flour, then dip into the beaten egg, and finally press into the breadcrumbs until completely covered. Put them on a platter in the fridge to firm up.

When ready to cook, fry them in hot oil for 8-10 minutes each side.

Serve with lemon wedges, a homemade tomato sauce and a green salad.

YIKES, THE DAYS ARE RUNNING AWAY FROM ME - we'll be putting the clocks back before long, and I still have a whole raft of things I wanted to get done - in September. Hence the sporadic blogging. Never-the-less, I must KBO as it is a good discipline for me, maybe I could get up earlier....no, on second thoughts...

Reading Unfeeling by Ian Holding awoke feelings of dread, fear, anger, pain and nostalgia within me. It felt a bit like being at a horror movie where I could only bear to watch through my fingers.
This novel is by a young teacher who lives and works in Harare. The story is set in an unnamed African country, but it is very obviously Zimbabwe.

A 16 year-old boy is the sole survivor of a brutal attack on his family’s farm in which both his parents have been hacked to death. The farm, the largest in the region, is highly productive and supports a community of local workers but it has been scheduled for land reclamation by the government. It had originally been carved from virgin bush by Davey’s great-grandfather 100 years previously. The neighbouring farmer and his wife, are close family friends and they take Davey in. The local farming community is shocked and horrified by the attack, but cannot bear to deal with Davey’s pain and guilt. There is an underlining feeling that it would have been better if he had died too. Within a fortnight of the attack Davey is sent back to his boarding school (most farmers’ children in central Africa have to attend boarding schools as the distances are so great that local schools are not feasible). Back at school he struggles with his grief and develops a desire to avenge his parents. Eventually he runs away from the school and makes his way back to the farm, a dangerous journey which connects him with a variety people who view what is happening in the country in different ways. The couple who are in loco parentis rescue him again, and are under the impression he has done something terrible to the political fat cat who has appropriated the farm, other local white farmer join forces to try and cover up what he has done in case it rebounds on them all however it turns out that something very different has happened, and the reader is left with a picture of both the white and black communities awaiting the inevitable with foreboding.

What a waste, what devastation, what starvation, alienation, disease and poverty have followed from the deluded, grasping policies of Mugabwe and his henchmen. My heart bleeds for Zimbabwe and its people.

RANTING:

Veils, veils, veils, should they wear them or not? that is the controversy that Jack Straw has stirred up with his remarks. Acres of newsprint seem to have been devoted to the subject, and I have no fresh views on the subject save to ask a few questions:

1. If motorcyclists are not allowed to enter a bank wearing their helmets (which they are obliged by law to wear), as if they did the CCTV security cameras would not be able to get a clear picture of them, shouldn't Muslim women who wear the niqaab (nikab, niquab??) have to remove it before entering a bank for the same reasons ?

The photograph was sent to me by my good friend D in Cape Town...says it all really.

2. How much is peripheral vision affected by the niqaab? and if it is, wouldn't it limit any driver wearing one?

3. Do Muslim drag queens wear the niqaab? and who would know anyway?

Personally I think my views were perfectly expressed by Saira Khan in her article in The Times yesterday.

RECIPE:
I've been up in Scotland for the past few days staying in an east coast fishing village, so I came home bringing some fabulously fresh fish. I also bought some undyed smoked haddock and tonight I made a traditional Scottish soup that goes by the unlikely name of

CULLEN SKINK
(Smoked Haddock & Potato Soup)
Serves 4 generously

2 large fillets of smoked haddock
1 onion, finely chopped
700ml water
600g peeled potatoes
800ml semi-skimmed milk
40g butter
1 large bay leaf
salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 tablespoons finely chopped parsley and extra for garnishing.

Put the haddock, onion and bayleaf into a large pan and cover with the water. Bring to the boil. Skim any scum from the surface before covering the pan and simmer for 10 minutes until the haddock is poached and flakes easily.
Use a slotted spoon to lift the haddock from the pan, remove any skin and bones. Flake the fish and reserve it. Simmer the water in the pan until reduced by half. Strain the liquid and then return it to the pan together with the potatoes. Simmer the potatoes for about 25 minutes until tender. Remove potatoes from the pan with a slotted spoon , add the milk to the liquid in the pan and bring to the boil. Mash the potatoes with the butter, and then whisk into the hot liquid in the pan until thick and creamy. Add the flaked fish to the pan and season to taste ( be careful about adding too much salt, the smoked fish is already fairly salty). Stir in the chopped parsley.

Serve with crusty brown bread and butter.

Pride comes before a fall. I shouldn't have been quite so chippy about tag clouds and html linking the other day, as I have just wasted aeons of time trying - and completely failing- to get any of the links I wanted onto the blog. It is a mystery to me. What am I doing wrong? A prissy, schoolmarmy sign keeps popping up saying "your html code is wrong, there is no closing code to match your opening code" - is she speaking ancient Aramaic? I have a horrible memory of the feeling I used to get at school a zillion years ago when I couldn't figure out what was going on in calculus and all explanations sounded like double dutch. However with age has come bloody mindedness, so I am determined that I will not be beaten.


READING: At the moment I seem to spend much of my time reading brochures for swanky shower units, sophisticated wash-hand basins, high-tech bathroom flooring and ceramic tiles. You guessed it, we are re-vamping our bathroom. Long overdue. So its lusting over bathroom porn for me right now. I must admit, I have been taken aback by some of the amazing systems that are available. Shower units which contain seating, massage bars, sound systems, flashy lighting, and even telephone connections (who would I ring when I was in the shower anyway?). Its another world.


RANT:
The heat goes on, dear reader, and despite the weathermen continually predicting massive thunderstorms, localised flooding, hail stones like pigeons eggs and so forth, not a drop of rain has come our way - and we have this bloody hosepipe ban.

You can:
Wash your car at a car wash
Fill a swimming pool, hot tub or pond
Hose down the cat or dog
Water a vegetable allotment with a hose
Hose down a caravan, trailer, motorcycle*
Clean the patio with a pressure washer or hose
Re-use wash water, ie from bath or washing machine
Fill all the watering cans you ever want to irrigate your lawn
Spray water into a concrete mixer

You can't:
Water private gardens with a sprinkler or hose
Wash a private car with a hosepipe at home
Leave a porous hose running under your hedge
Connect up drippers to water your patio plants
Water the vegetables in a household garden
Use a hose to water planted containers anywhere in the garden
Spray water into a planting hole with a hose

I am among the millions who are really p**sed off with Thames Water, huge profits, high charges, leaks everywhere and my garden is suffering.
There has been a leak in a street near ours for ten days or more, zillions of litres of water are trickling away, and has anyone come to fix it -despite me and umpteen other people having reported it - no they have not. Its NOT fair.


RECIPE: Another good recipe for when it's too hot to go near a stove, and you want a starter you can prep in advance. Everybody seems to love this and I have given the recipe to so many of my kid's friends - I think young people like it because it is "snacking" food which you can eat when sitting around doing nothing with a beer in one hand!

SMOKED MACKEREL PÂTÉ

Serves 6

4 smoked mackerel fillets
225g (8oz) cream cheese (eg Philadelphia)
4 Tablespoons lemon juice
Black pepper – freshly ground (don't add this if you have bought peppered mackerel fillets)
1 Tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 clove garlic, skinned and finely chopped
1 Tablespoon finely chopped parsley

Remove the skin from the mackerel fillets, and any bones you can find, put into a food processor or blender, together with the cream cheese, lemon juice, plenty of black pepper, the Worcestershire Sauce, garlic and parsley (the parsley needs to be chopped first, otherwise it tends to remain in little clusters rather than get broken down finely).
If you don’t have a food processor or blender use a pestle and mortar.
Whiz or pound until you have a smooth mixture, then scoop the pâté into a serving dish and keep, covered in the fridge until required.
Serve with warm brown toast.
Freezes well.

Yeeee hah! I've actually discovered how to create a tag cloud and insert it into my blog. This relatively simple action has taken me 2½ hours to do, I am learning, but slowly.

READING: I've always enjoyed reading crime fiction, and so I picked up a copy of Val McDermid's 'The Grave Tattoo' from the library as she is one of my favourite crime writers What amazingly complex plotting this book has. McDermid manages to link a modern murder set on a London housing estate to William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge and his famous poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Fletcher Christian and the Mutiny on the Bounty. The connections between them seemed very plausible, and I was absolutely hooked. I had thought I was going to be reading a "normal" whodunnit, but this was extraordinary. At the back of the book there is a bibliography - another first for a crime novel as far as I am concerned. McDermid's style of writing make all her books very easy reading, but they are certainly not simplistic.

RANTING:


Can anyone explain what Mini-Roundabouts are for ? I mean, what is the point? In quiet times they are not necessary, and in peak times the traffic on the main thoroughfare ignores them completely and you sit for hours trying to get into the system. They seem totally and absolutely useless...lorries drive right over them as if they can't see them- which they probably can't. Today I got carved up on a mini-roundabout by some boy racer with fluff for brains who fancied himself as Michael Schumacher. His in-car sound system belching out about 200 decibels of testosterone so that anyone within three blocks of him was forced to listen to what he considers as music. I was going to remonstrate with him that I was already ON the mini-roundabout and he couldn't just charge through, but figured that all I'd get for my pains would be the finger...so I decided to bring my road rage here and let you all have the benefit of it.


RECIPE: It is still horribly warm and humid and I can't bear the thought of hot food. This is an easy recipe, most of it can be prepared in advance. The quantities in the recipe make enough for 8 to 10 people if served as part of a buffet, but I also halve the quantities and make it for just four of us as a main dish.

BALSAMIC & SOY CURED SALMON WITH GREEN BEANS

2 Tablespns soy sauce
6 Tablespns brown sugar
6 Tablespns Balsamic vinegar
1 Lime, zest and juice
2 teaspns coriander seeds, lightly crushed
1 Kg Salmon fillet
4 small shallots, finely sliced
400g fine green beans, trimmed.
2 teaspns toasted sesame seeds

Combine the soy sauce, brown sugar, balsamic vinegar, lime zest and juice, and coriander seeds in a bowl and stir until the sugar dissolves.
Put the fish in a shallow container, pour ½ the marinade over it and chill for at least
30 minutes.
Blanch the beans in boiling salted water for one minute, drain and refresh.
Dry the beans on kitchen paper towel and arrange on a serving plate.
Grill the salmon for 6-7 minutes until just cooked through, and then cool.
Break up the fish into large chunks, put on top of the beans, and sprinkle with the finely sliced shallots.
Pour the remaining soy marinade over the fish and beans, garnish with sesame seeds and wedges of lime.

If you wish this to be a more substantial dish, cook some chinese egg noodles in the usual way, toss them with a little sesame oil and put them on the serving dish before you put the beans and salmon on top.