The End

It's been a long time since I wrote regularly, and from time to time I have promised, threatened even, to come back to live in Bloggerland.

I miss Bloggerland. Bloggerland brought out of me the academic side that I never even knew was there. it brought out a Sally who read, wrote and who had opinions about matters far and wide. It brought out a Sally that was most particular about a certain writing style, a Sally who was sometimes witty, even funny at times. Not wanting to push my own merits too far you understand.

In Bloggerland we have our own little community. A community where we admire each other's work, on a regular basis, give each other awards, on a very regular basis, laugh at each others jokes and even... write blogs.

It is a very safe community. A community where we feel loved and cherished and where you never feel lonely. There is always someone to share with and to empathise with, There is always someone who can empathise with you.

So if it is that good, why on earth did I give it up?

There are many reasons. I discovered Facebook. I discovered the joy of watching TV on my laptop. I bought a laptop even. a reason usually for more blogging one would think, but not when suddenly one can see the many uses that a laptop can have, besides blogging. In particular I discovered the joys of watching "House". Hubby accused me of going to bed with Hugh Laurie every night, which in one sense I guess I did. Hugh didn't know anything about this of course. I was just one of his millions of fans worldwide who drooled over a guy playing a dysfunctional doctor, who for some bizarre reason managed to keep the masses hooked.

Most importantly though I started fostering children. And this my dear readers is the main reason why my blog has come to a bit of a standstill. Because it is a seriously sensitive subject and not one that you can openly share with the world.

And so, after spending the last four years of nearly but not quite writing, I have decided to write "The End" to Sally Writes. It is a sad moment to finally find the end to a piece of writing that has evolved over six years in total. But then, on the other hand, if this is a book, then all books must come to an end. And if you really love it, you can always start again at the very beginning.

It is a booksworth in total and so,

Enjoy....

And thank you, all of you, for being my lovely loyal readers.

But now this really is....

THE END

The Plum Jam

It was that time of year again. Well that time of "two years" actually.

We have two plum trees, and every two years they produce prolific amounts of fruit. In years gone by I have eagerly helped to pick and de-stone said plums and then make huge quantities of "Sally Jam", only to give most of it away and be left with maybe a jar for us. The "children" complain bitterly. "Don't give it away Mum. You're too generous with it. You even give it to people we barely know... Grumble grumble grumble..."

But every "other" year it is the same. The joy is in the making and the knowledge that you can, even just for a week every two years be an Earth Mother type and create your own little cottage industry in your kitchen... Or something like that I think, as I run round the kitchen finding old jars, empty them hastily, get as much of the labels off as possible and stuff them into the dishwasher. Not quite Nigella I guess.

This year though it was different. "We must get the plums" said Hubby. "Make the jam." "Yes"

I kept saying. "Soon."

He clearly wasn't convinced by my eager responses. Perhaps he thought that the mere triviality of having five "lively"* foster children aged eight and under, two of my own aged thirteen and eleven, my two big teenagers and twenty one year old and mad collie dog, all living at home, might put me off my stride. As if?

So then he picked two bowlfuls and plonked them on the kitchen table. And, thinking that we didn't have enough, Gymnast, Tinkerbell Mushroom and one of the younger ones went out and picked some more.

"Shall I de-stone them tonight." Said Hubby.

I looked wearily on. "I was thinking of freezing them. I can make jam when everyone has gone back to school." "I'm not sure the fruit would be as nice." Said Hubby. He can drive a hard bargain at times.

So that was how, with two of the youngest at nursery this morning and another at a holiday summer school and the baby in bed having a morning nap and my lovely "Help sent directly from Heaven" cleaning the house, that TM, Gymnast, one of the younger ones and I, sat down to de-stone the plums. That was after of course a mad panic on my part because I had lost the recipe that I always use. Hasty look in all the cookery books for slip of paper that recipe is printed on. No recipe. Quick look on Google to "re-find" it. No recipe. In the end I found a new recipe and adapted it to make it more like my original one.

Then of course the doorbell rang and it was Tesco with an obscenely large amount of food. We do eat it of course. There is very little waste. And there are a great deal of people to feed in our house, so we need it.

But I have to put it away in the cupboards...

And so it was that by the time that I had done that, the plums had been nearly de-stoned. They left a few of the trickier ones for me to do, which I think is probably fair enough really. I had just enough time to throw sugar on them before the afternoon "pick ups" began.

ESOS walked in. "Plum jam?" He said, looking on eagerly. "Don't give it all away this time mum." His two houseguests looked a little disappointed. Sensible, who was busy planning a results party two nights before the results come out (Sensible is awaiting AS level results and ESOS is awaiting A level results) asked me to go to the local supermarket to buy something for the party. (Tescos hadn't delivered enough.) "Why isn't the party on Thursday" I asked. "Because it might be too depressing" said ESOS. "We'll have a pre results party."

Whilst I was at the supermarket Sensible made the kitchen look as sparkling "as you can get for old house in need of renovation, especially of the kitchen with broken drawers and broken other stuff..." And someone helpfully threw away the plum stones which could or could not have formed some of the recipe, but they did very much look like rubbish and I really should know by now how to give clear specific instructions.

One of the children asked when we were going to make it into "actual" jam. Thinking that Social services wouldn't be best pleased if enthusiastic foster child got scalded by being part of some jam manufacture I hastily replied that I would make it when all others were in bed. "But that's not fair" said the little one. "We've done all the work. We should be able to make it." But, as the lion says, "sometimes....."

I finally got it boiling. Once all the younger children were in bed. Once Sensible had had a driving lesson, and once the kitchen was vaguely clear again, following its nightly ordeal of using some of huge amount of food from fridge in the "cooked" version. The concoction needed a while... and some lemons too ... which I hadn't bought from Tesco. So Hubby bought some lemons from our local late supermarket and kindly zested them for me and then, with jam boiling merrily, we sat down to watch an episode of "House" on my laptop, in the kitchen, while the jam was cooking. "House" is the de-stresser of the universe. Hugh Laurie, medical drama and pithy wit. What better combination could there be? ESOS got me into it and I am hooked.

It was a good episode which meant that the jam had even longer to boil, which it appears is the answer to success.

And this time am going to put my new recipe on my blog, lest in future years I yet again forget its whereabouts, and especially as this recipe is really a "Sally's own", it having been adapted and combined with a few.

"Sally Originals" Plum Jam

What's in it:

8 lb Plums

4 lb Sugar

2-3 lemons

How to make it:

Split the plums and de-stone them

Place sugar on the top and mix in carefully

Leave for at least ten hours (This allows the fruit to ferment a little and really makes a difference to the taste of the jam).

Put the fruit and sugar in a supersized saucepan, add the juice and zest from the lemons and boil. Keep stirring.

(Optional) Place stones in a muslin bag and boil with the jam. And/or break some of the stones and add the kernel into the mixture.

After fifteen minutes, lower the heat to medium hot and keep stirring from time to time. (It can cook at a relatively high temperature without catching as long as you have a big enough pot to ensure that it doesn't boil over.)

Cook for an hour and a half to two hours. The longer cooking time will allow the jam to develop a lovely mature flavour.

Grab newly sterilised jars from dishwasher.

Put jam into jars being careful not to splash any on the hand. If this does happen grab a leaf of handy Aloe Vera plant to cure burn. (As I did.)

And there it is. "Sally Originals" Plum Jam...

*polite speak for "challenging in the extreme"...

The Alternative Bear Hunt and Shrugby now complete. Click here...

Time for tea? Get it right! (As posted on Chris Evans' blog on Monday 4th April 2011)

Dear Chris

Firstly: Happy Birthday for Friday!

Secondly, I wondered if we could start a (slightly tongue in cheek) campaign across the nation please?

The thing is this:

In no other Country do they get the names of meals confused.

In Germany for instance, lunch is Mittagessen, evening meal Abendessen. France, lunch is Dejeuner, Evening meal, Diner. etc.....

But in England we have great confusion.

Surely luncheon or lunch has always been known the meal that comes in the middle of the day? This means that the evening meal must be dinner. Supper is something before bed, a light snack and tea is an afternoon meal, eaten around 4 p.m. with sandwiches cakes and scones etc?

But no!

We are so complicated as a nation...

Instead we call lunch dinner, dinner tea, supper at some time during the evening. We do call dinner dinner, that is "dinner in the evening" if you are going out to dinner or having a dinner party. Ladies who lunch don't do "ladies who dinner". If you go out for afternoon tea you would certainly be eating tea and scones. Not to be confused with the tea that people eat for their evening meal.

Of course if you are really in the know, there is High Tea too, which is probably what many would call tea, dinner, evening meal etc.

FOR GOODNESS SAKE!!!!

Can we please sort this out Chris? As a man who can talk to the nation I am asking if you would please talk some sense into the nation:

Lunch when it's light

Dinner when it's dark

Tea at teatime: 4 p.m.

Supper: Shortly before bed.

Thank you!

Sally Lomax

The Alternative Bear Hunt and Shrugby.

It started off with mayhem.

ESOS (who is in the 6th form and wears a suit for school) had given me his trousers to wash the night before. Suit trousers. Non washable. Took a chance and put them in the washing machine as the mud wouldn't come out any other way before the next morning. 7.00 a.m. "Mum, where are my trousers?" "Oh.......... bad words bad words...........more bad words.............they are still in the washing machine......" Went to see Hubby. Have you got a suit that ESOS can use for school today?" Hubby found a suit which thankfully fitted. Made ESOS PROMISE that he would not play shrugby* in Hubby's suit.

Meanwhile Hubby went to get out the bread from the bread maker. For the first time in many years it was flat. Hubby was about to blame me, me having put the bread on the night before........... then we realised that the breadmaker had in fact died a sad death.... Phew. I was off the hook.

Then, Hubby, eldest four children and dressing up trunk piled into the Fiat Punto at 7.30 a.m. to go to Gloucester. ED is in a play this week and needed dressing up trunk as a prop. They must have been crowded in that little car, and of course it left me with just the six to deal with.

My saint of a help arrived at 8.30 a.m. then burst out of the front door at twenty to nine with eldest foster child (EFC). But not before an unwelcome encounter with the potty and two year old foster child...

Went back through the front door. Collected sandwiches, fruit and drink to go with the crisps that had been put into the lunch box. Ran her across the road to the primary school. Kissed her goodbye and ran back. Jumped into the car with Tinkerbell Mushroom (youngest daughter) and Pre School FC. (Foster child.) Drove to TM's school. Drove back. Remembered that we had left Pre School's book bag at home. In the tumble drier. Had been subjected to being dragged through the deep oozy mud the night before. Squelch squerch. squelch squerch. Went through the front door. Opened the tumble drier. got the bag. Retied on name label. Put book into bag. Got into the car. Round to the pre school. Back home. Got two youngest ready for my "three hours off a week" when I take both the youngest two to a day nursery for three hours and go out on the razz or something. Like supermarket shopping.

In fact I had arranged to meet Sensible who was in need of serious "tlc" having not been selected to be Head Girl of her school.Whizzed into town. Went on a seriously therapeutic shop with Sensible: I needed to buy a sewing machine to make curtains... and Sensible helped me. Thank you Sensible.....Will buy you a nice coffee out soon...

Pulled out of multi storey car park. Drove over invisible hump. Thought had damaged car. Apparently not, so drove on home.

Mayhem ensued for the rest of the afternoon, but peace was in sight as Gymnast and I were due to go the the theatre in the evening. Hubby was needed late at work to be very important, so Sensible offered to babysit until he got home. Finally escaped. Car wouldn't start. Has strange quirk where if it is parked at the wrong angle (i.e. on the pavement) and is only a quarter full it thinks that it is empty. ESOS helped me push the car off the pavement and I drove off happily across the road to the petrol station.

Oh....Not so happily. Car shaked and trembled. Shaked and trembled. Got out of car. FLAT tyre. Seriously flat. Seems that the invisible hump was far from harmless. Tyre had apparently been deflating all afternoon.

Went back into the house. Threw down keys. "I can't go." I moaned. "Yes you can. Said Sensible. "Go in the minibus." The minibus, it transporting so many of us, seats seventeen and to say the least is a little on the big side to park in Cheltenham. "I can't park that by the theatre." I remonstrated. "Park it on the road" Said Sensible. "Go!"

And then thankfully I had a brainwave. Called Hubby on his way home from Bristol. Arranged to swap cars en route. Got into seriously small Fiat Punto and did rest of journey.

Got to the theatre a couple of minutes late. Not bad considering. Saw all but first two minutes of the play...

The next day, ESOS, back in his suit asked: Is it possible that my trousers have shrunk? Yes indeed. Completely possible but I fear he will be wearing them until the year end nevertheless, and preferably without the Shrugby please!

(*shoe rugby, a weird version of rugby played by ESOS and friends at school, which involves much mud and serious abuse of nice clothes)