Saved from trip to IKEA by 1970's tray

I was struck by some weird urge this morning, to go to IKEA. this has not happened to me for about five years. The reason, apart from the thought it might be warm in there, was that I had suddenly had enough of picking up bits of straw in the bathroom from the perpetually molting washing basket lid. The thing itself must be twenty years old, no problem with that, but I was beginning to wonder if a new one would be..nice...no more bits, the gentle whiff of a couple of decades of socks gone...

Also the rug in front of the fireplace is VILE, hey we could get a new one, a better lampshade in the sitting room, fresh duvet cover, kitchen table is very wobbly, those old mugs are very unpleasant ...STOP.

I could have spent all day driving to and from Ikea, eating dodgy round meat products, buying not only the afore mentioned washing basket, but about fifteen other not actually really needed items, and spending money with the help of a small rectangle of plastic. These are dangerous places.

In the end I went out into the shed and found a 1970's vide grenier tray, banged a nail through it

attached some wire in a handle shape...new lid, which will do until the rest of the basket gives way, and we find another during the V.Grenier season next year.

Thanks Penny for the article about 'cashless man' in the guardian, which was probably another reason I didn't take the drive...

Rare event

Rarely seen in the hothouse, MEAT. Mark still stuck to the veggie option for Christmas lunch, with a nut roast sort of item, which was very good, in fact he had to fend off the carnivore folks.

This is a small pintade or Guinea fowl, the spotty black and white birds which emit a un-oiled gate sound (when not dead). José the butcher told me at length, while everyone waited patiently in the queue, how to cook it to perfection, what to stuff it with, and how many times to baste it. I like José's boucherie, it has a few prized cuts on display, no acreage of bloody formless things, more like a gallery of precious things to be admired.

Meat has become, in our present time, something too available, an assumption that protein in meat form should be eaten every day, vegetables something secondary on the plate. I would rather regard meat as something eaten as a special event, like the traditional Sunday roast. A bit more money spent occasionally on a good quality 'happy' beast must be better for us than a continual consumption of ultra cheap antibiotic soaked animals.

Unfortunately I lit the fire last night with 'Le Monde'. There was a really brilliant article in it about the huge production of meat and the consequences for us and the planet. One of the statistics was that 70 percent of South America's arable land is now given over to cattle production. Add that to the incredible amount of cow fart methane gas and its a massive problem.

I'm dreaming of a recycled Christmas...

It might just be meanness, but I think its more to do with not buying acres of shiny paper, then to throw it all away again. This year we have 'chute de papier' from our local printers which I am painting in suitably festive colours.

I saw an item on a news programme in the UK about the fantastic amount of wrapping paper created just for the festive period. Can't remember the statistics now of course, but suffice it to say, it was something like, you could wrap up all the buildings of Milton Keynes, and still have enough for a few outlying villages.

Happy Christmas, and may all your decor be nicked from a hedgerow, and your presents not be a boxed gift set of incense for yoga, curry made easy pack, or anything that you have to open in front of your loved ones and say mmm, "how lovely". When actually all you really wanted was a book token.

Home made 2

Here is a homage to the book, afore mentioned...fed up with groping around for the loo roll, which had usually fallen to the floor I came up with this bizarre, but very functional paper holder. Nail, garden wire, 1970's salad server, at cost of perhaps 20 cents. I might adjust the wire so it hangs straight, otherwise, perfect. think I might contact John Lewis to see if they would be interested in taking on a small quantity of them...

Home made.

Buy this book. Inspirational for us post.mats. The work of Vladimir Arkhipov. A fascinating collection of functional everyday objects made by people who really had no choice but to 'make do' with what they could find. Here featured, a bath plug made from the sole of a shoe and a fork.

Amongst other items, t.v ariels, fish feeders, bags, chairs, exercise machines, toys etc etc....

something nasty in the woodpile...

Very probably, have heard munching sounds in it for the last 3 years, but have never quite got down to the dregs to investigate.

I love winter...bleak frozen hill tops, black jagged outlines of trees bent against the wind, endless variations of soup, actually I hate it, except for the WOOD FIRE.

I have always lived with open fires in the house/flat, even in London. When buying a flat there, I was still trying to work out if I could carry wood up 7 flights of stairs, and whether the lease would allow the fireplace to be used. There is something so fundamental about a real fire in a house. The sounds, smell, colour and of course, the true heart of the house warmth.

I was amazed when we first lived in France to find how many people, certainly in this region, rely on wood for heating, often for hot water as well. We were used to fires in the u.k being something extra special. Pub with real open fire....something used for show rather than life saving heat potential.

So this is our wood pile. Part inherited from our lovely previous house owners, part built up by us. Following in their tradition, most of it is raided from demolition sites (with permission bien sur) Jean -Paul put in a massive 'insert' fireplace which burns just about anything. This year we are burning old pine and cypress, spurned by everyone else, and the beams of a beautiful house in Limoux which the Mairie demolished under some spurious pretext. Most people burn oak here, which of course is excellent, slow burning, very hot, unlike rubbish old pine, still waste not want not!

During the few extremely cold weeks, we do put electric fires on when frost bite is looming, otherwise its just the fire, thick socks and duvet layers, and chopping wood..it warms you twice.

Bread.

Mark's bread features a lot in our household.

He has always made bread. It started during student days.

People say, wow, have you got a bread machine, I say yes he's that tall lanky one over there....then they say, what is the recipe, I wish I had time , etc etc. Actually its very simple, and despite the fact that Mark is always busy he fits the process in as part of the daily (in fact about every 3 days) routine.

I have nothing against bread machines, except its another kitchen gadget which often appears in vide grenier along with deep fat friers, veg steamers. Do we need so many appliances?

Making bread is also a soothing activity, deeply satisfying apart from the first couple of attempts when one (me) leaves out the yeast resulting in something that would not be on the film set of 'little house on the prairie'.

Here are the basic rules and equipment.

Flour: We buy this in large quantities from our local whole-food shop. Either 'bise' white with a little rough stuff left in, 'complete' which is wholemeal, or 'integral' which is everything, husks, stalks, small rodents...? We go for 'complet', integral is a bit too worthy, and teeth shattering.

Yeast: this little packet in the pic is fresh yeast found in most supermarkets here. Sometimes Mark uses a dried yeast which you mix in with the flour, but prefers the live stuff. There is something profoundly reassuring about the little cube..the smell, the 'realness' '..? don't know, but its a good 80 cents worth.

Water: from tap, or local source, if you have one...see future post...

Good tablespoon of salt.

That's it!

Optional extras:

Sunflower seeds, walnuts, Olive oil, tahini, bit of soya flour, for extra protein bread, olives, cat food(not really), anything you feel like actually.

Equipment:

BIG bowl.

Equally big wooden spoon.

Oven.

Bread tins. These are special, for the job, Mark has old ones from Aunty Nora and from boot sale, they are double thickness and are never washed, just oiled.

Get big bowl, pour in flour, this is a dodgy area. Mark never weighs anything, experiment... I may look for a bit of film I have somewhere of him 'measuring' flour.

Make hole, put in excited yeast (has been put with sugar and warm water for a few minutes)

Mix up to chewing gum consistency, tip out onto floured surface, kneed, put back in bowl, cover with clean (often not appropriate chez nous) cloth. Leave until dough has risen to twice the size, with light classical music, if desired. If dough remains the same after a day, use as door stop, and buy bread machine.

Remix dough a little and put into oiled bread tins. Leave to reflect on life and the future (the dough, and yourself if needed...ha ha) for a bit (about half an hour)

Put in pre-heated oven, 170 approx, for about 40 minutes.

House will infused by wonderful wholesome happy smell. Visitors will be charmed, and nasty post received that morning will seem unimportant.

I just found the film....He seems to be using a nix of whole meal, probably with a bit of white mixed in.