Firstly, thanks to My Dear Friend for getting the site back up and running.  We should be OK for a couple of years now - thankfully.

The last week has been more than a bit mad.  William woke on Monday morning not able to walk.  AT ALL.  Being the good mother I am, I blamed tiredness and basically insisted he got on with things.  By lunch-time on Tuesday, we were at the Children’s Hospital in Cardiff being told he might have everything from Guillain-Barre Syndrome to Rickets.  None of the options in between were any more appealing.

By yesterday, we had a dual diagnosis of a viral muscle infection and benign familial hyperphosphatasemia (the latter being the OH’s genetic code - not mine!).  Neither is overly serious and he will be right as rain in a few weeks, all being well.  As you can imagine, sleep has been limited, work non-existent and remembering to breath whenever a doctor came near you a trial.

I’ll be back on-line more now and will blog properly shortly.  In the interim, to friends, family and the Doctors at the Children’s Hospital in Cardiff (although not the nurses - of which more another time) a huge thank you.

I thought about this post on the way to bed last night.  I thought of it again half-way through my drive to work this morning, when I was trapped in what is becoming a regular and annoying traffic jam caused by some never-ending roadworks.  I thought of it again when I met some colleagues for an informal meeting at a local bar, where we can all smoke and be far happier with life.  It then reared it’s head again during dinner and given that it’s about food, this last interruption kind of made sense (as much as anything my brain delivers does!).

We had fishcakes last night for tea accompanied by some peas and, I was going to say potatoes, but let’s call a spade a spade, chips.  That’s when it struck me.  There are few meals that are complete without a table sauce.  Last night, for instance, it was Tartare (Sainsbury’s own-brand - complete with chunky bits of capers - lovely!).  The night before we had what the OH calls “pot-mess”.  This is a complicated recipe, so I’ll run it by you in full.

Pot-mess, I am informed, was an ’80’s staple at Scout Camp.  In those days, it was made with a catering tin of mince in gravy, but given our now elevated vegetarian status, this has been replaced by Quorn mince and vegetable gravy.  Basically - and I hope you can follow this - you take one onion and chop it.  You put this in a large saucepan with a little oil to start to soften.  Add to this the Quorn (or, in a meat-eating household a can of mince in gravy).  Once this has thawed (if frozen) add the following:

*  One can of new potatoes (water drained)

*  One can of carrots (water drained)

*  One can of peas (water drained)

Stir.  Add the vegetable gravy (made up to the instructions) to moisten the mixture - but not have it swimming in the liquid (this depends on the size of the cans of vegetables you have added).  Allow to cook for between 5 and 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Taste for seasoning and if your coming over all Jamie Oliver, add a few dried herbs or even some Brown Sauce, for that hint of something spicy.

I kid you not, fast food rarely tastes so good.  However, not as good as if you add a good dollop of English Mustard (and my argument about sauces comes back full circle).

Another of the OH’s favourite recipes (I may as well get all our crap eating habits out into the blog-sphere whilst I’m at it) has no name.  However, when our Leicester mate lived with us, she and he ate it often.  It is again a very complex recipe, so let me see if I can remember it.

You will need:

*  Mashed potato (the OH and I disagree on this vehemently.  He says SMASH is mashed potato.  I disagree and believe that this recipe should only be attempted with real mash (not frozen) although chilled, Marks and Spencers mash is, I’m sure, fine)

*  One tin of tuna (drained)

*  One tin of red kidney beans (drained and rinsed)

You add all these to a bowl.  Opinion then divides.  You can either mix everything together OR leave them separate (being careful to collect a little of everything on your fork or spoon for each mouthful).  You then add a generous amount of Salad Cream (and I mean Salad Cream - apparently Mayonnaise just isn’t the same).

It’s like Gordon Ramsay in the Gene Puddle, isn’t it?

Back to sauces.  If you think about it, where would you be without Tomato Sauce to add to your chips (or preferably your chip butty, made with cheap, white bread and lashing of butter), without Brown Sauce to add to your pork chops, without Mango Chutney for your popadoms, without Pickle to add to your cheese sandwich, without Horseradish on your beef, Mint Sauce on your lamb (or in my mother’s house your chicken as well!).. the list is endless.

I know for you meat-eaters, for example, there is a never-ending debate about which sauce to add to which type of sandwich.  For instance, would you add Tomato Sauce to your bacon butty, or does it have to be Brown?  Or for a fried egg sandwich, what would it be red or brown?  Or to the great sausage sandwich?  The debate rages often if people come here after the pub for a snack.  Everyone thinks differently - although the Brown Sauce Proper brigade (who are also my friends who join me from the Gene Puddle for all things Smiths related) believe there is an etiquette and are planning a retirement book on the subject.

If I were marooned on a desert island, the thing I’d most like to have is an endless supply of table sauces.  In this way, whatever I could find to eat would instantly become palatable.  Add in Marmite and I’d probably stay marooned forever, food-wise.  I’ve tried to come up with a favourite, but I can’t.  I add English Mustard to many things I probably shouldn’t and I also love Jamaican Red Pepper Sauce.  However, how I would I go on without Mango Chutney, Mayonnaise, Tartare..  It’s like asking me to choose only one record - it’s like telling Elizabeth Taylor to stick with one man.

Whilst in my meeting this afternoon, one of the waitresses walked past me carrying what looked like a big bowl of potato wedges with about six different little sauces, neatly lined up in little white bowls.  I’ll be going back, if only to try this!

The bill from the builders has come in way over the estimate (again I warn you, never employ family!).  I may have to sell one, or all, of the following:

a. my body - offers over 10p will be considered and rates will vary depending on the deparavity of the requests

b. my soul - again, offers over 10p as I’m not sure what my soul is good for and whether, indeed, as I don’t actually believe in an after-life, per se, it is any good to me

c. my Son - I think I’d price William slightly higher - perhaps a couple of quid.  He’s just talking, not house-trained but does a lovely line in “oops” and “was an accident”

d. my Other Half - mmm, if I’m looking for offers over 10p, then he’s probably only worth offers over 5p, being older and greyer (the fact he mentions, usually when I’m driving, that he’s sure he’s just seen my first grey hair glinting in the sunshine is just his attempt at comedy or possibly a deathwise).  Thinking about it, just take him off my hands, life will be cheaper, regardless.

e. my “Black Book” - now that could be interesting.  Home and mobile numbers for some of the more sexually adventurous people living in the Gene Puddle.  I might be onto something here..

As it is, we’ll probably just raid the savings account and mutter about how we’re never using them to do any work in the house again for a couple of weeks.  Of course, given the work has been done to a wonderful standard and the lounge is now almost to my taste (flooring and the new sofas will help when they arrive) it’s so much harder to whine.

In other news.. well.. really.. there is no other news.  God it’s boring at the moment.  Llangollen last Monday (now there’s a killer drive for a 9.30am start) and more IT and telecommunications problems in the office than you can shake a hairy stick at and that’s work covered.  Socially, nothing.  Off to bed.  Speak Soon.