A day with the girls

I've been to Bluewater today with Charlie, Janey and Janey's friend Serena, ostensibly looking for cool clothes in Baby Gap (Janey has taken to walking like a duck, sticking her bump out and theatrically clutching her back and groaning lest anyone think she's just "fat and not up the duff") but in reality searching for the PERFECT pair of boots, the PERFECT nail polish colour, the PERFECT coat and the PERFECT snuggly, cosy dressing gown. Janey wanted the boots ("just because I'm with child, it doesn't mean I can't wear heels does it?") and we went into every shoe shop before we found a pair that were deemed suitable. In the very first shop we went had gone into.

I found the perfect nail polish colour -three of them - in Boots at about half eleven whilst Serena perused the chill cabinet for "a snack" which she ate whilst gazing moodily at Charlie as she perused Next for a coat. Charlie found one eventually (via the costume jewellery stand) and whisked it off to the checkout till, even as the words "but it looks like something a general would wear, all you need are a few fake medals" dying on my lips. She shot me a withering look and stroked the coat lovingly.

In we went to Evans next and found a dressing gown that Serena said "would do for now". Personally, I wouldn't buy anything costing twenty five quid just because it "would do for now" but hey, each to their own. Lunch in Ed's Easy Diner - a burger each and we shared some chips and onion rings. Janey is "eating for two" and so is indulging in "non healthy stuff every now and again". She had two bites of her burger, three chips and two onion rings before declaring herself full. Ketchup covered, we headed back to Janey's Focus. Which wasn't where we left it.

Five minutes of panic ensued before we realised that we were in the wrong place, the car was where we left it, skulking next to a concrete pillar by the entrance to Marks and Spencers. Where Janey had parked it because "we'll all remember Marks won't we?".

There's nothing like a shopping trip to cheer you up is there? Janey was giddy with happiness at finding her boots, I was painting my nails different colours (heeding Janey's warning that if I spilt any I was "deader than a doodoo") as we headed down the A2 and Charlie was clutching her Next bag as if her life depended on it. Even Serena admitted that she was looking forward to dinner, a bath and then test driving her dressing gown in front of The Life and Times of Vivienne Vyle.

Hm. Wish I'd bought those jeans I saw now.......

The TANA Street Party

Well. It fell as flat as the Yorkshire puddings I cooked for lunch. Why can't I get them to rise? Anyway, the first ever TANA Street Party is going to the the last ever TANA Street Party. From the enthusiastic responses on Tuesday of this week, we had absolutely no takers on the day. Suddenly, everyone was "busy". The Scary Bloke with Rottweiler had a migraine. Ruby Over the Road suddenly discovered that "it looked like a good episode of Casualty tonight". Jane Opposite disappeared mid afternoon - Bill Opposite read from a scrawled note when I knocked to ask if she'd done the salads "gone to the spa with Bethany and Letitia. If anyone asks, I'm in bed with the squits". Even Jack Next Door wasn't answering his door. The die was cast. I was running round like a headless chicken from 3pm until David asked, at ten past six on his return from football "Why are you bothering? No-one else is". True, but it was expected of me. And I had Frank's beady eye on me which is more than enough to keep me on the move.

The road diversion signs went up at 6pm and were promptly ignored - cars continued to swish down the road, their occupants gawping at the amount of bunting piled up on the pavement and the morose residents trying to get into the party spirit. For reasons best known to themselves, Frank and Marjorie dressed up as Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, set themselves up on two winged chairs in their front garden and got into character almost immediately, with Frank bellowing regally and Marjorie simpering in what she obviously thought was a flirtatious way. I was wearing a square necked white T-shirt and long flowing black skirt - all I needed was an apron and mob cap and I'd have been a very convincing wench. Frank seemed quite keen for me to "update" him every five minutes.

So, as it turned out, the evening was as damp as the weather. By 7pm (the official start time) we had only a handful of guests, all looking bemused at the lack of chairs (six) and tables (two). Amy and Martin On The Corner arrived with 200 paper plates and cutlery in a wheelbarrow. Food on offer included six chickens, three Dundee cakes and some potato salad. Susan At Number 30 had sent Mike along to "enjoy himself" complete with an Ayres gateau. Alice Three Doors Down was looking equally wench-like in a frothy Broderie Anglaise dress and joined Frank and Marjorie in their front garden but kept fretting that she'll be "living on curry for the rest of the week" having cooked up several saucepans of the stuff. As I passed them on my final attempt to rouse the more unco-operative neighbours, I heard Marjorie say in a sad voice "When I think of the street parties we had in Mermaid Court, legendary they were". Frank patted her on the shoulder and adjusted her drooping ruff.

Naturally, I escaped. There was something extremely pathetic at the attempts to keep the party going - Frank kept walking up and down the road, exhorting his "subjects" to make merriment. Old Mrs Lazenby tried to get a conga going but they had to keep stopping to let cars through. I sat on the sofa cringing, watching Casualty, eating some of Alice's curry and trying to forget that the disaster outside was anything to do with me. In my defence, I had tried to tell the Stewarts that the residents of The Avenue were reticent and liked to keep themselves to themselves. Perhaps I didn't try hard enough.

This morning, on my way to take the dogs to the park, I fell over the bunting that hadn't been draped round trees and lamposts. All the curtains were still drawn in the Stewart household and I wondered just how battered their feelings were. I didn't have to wait long to find out. On my return, Frank was collecting his traffic cones (he's got a set of 24). He seemed remarkably upbeat about the disastrous evening and I tentatively asked how Marjorie was doing.

Frank beamed at me. "Oh, she's doing champion - she's drawing up plans for Halloween! Now....how do you feel about running the Bobbing for Apples stall?"

Random acts of niceness

It's been a lovely day Chez Moi today - proof that the milk of human kindness is not only out there, but it's flowing and plentiful. It's a week now until our Street Party and things are, shall we say, a little fraught. I've not written much about the party on this blog because, quite frankly, I'm up to here (gestures to forehead level) with it all. Suffice to say we've got about fifty chickens being roasted and only one bowl of rice and a tray of roasties to go with it. A quiche is out the of the question and, although Marjorie is whipping up several Dundee cakes, a severe lack of desserts are in the offing.

But, all of a sudden, the offers of help are flowing in. Scary Bloke with Rottweiler has offered his services as "bouncer" and also "humping stuff around". Amy and Martin On the Corner borrowed their mum's Macro card and went shopping for all manner of disposable cutlery and plates. Tabitha from Flat A has offered her boyfriend as the DJ, complete with decks. It finally feels as if we're all pulling together. But will it last? And you watch it pee down!

Jack Next Door took in a parcel for me this morning whilst I was out with the dogs - David's surprise just-because-I-saw-it-and-thought-you'd-like-it present arrived from QVC - a mini circular saw. Don't ask. He wants to get back to his "carpentry" and is going to build all manner of furniture items over the winter and fell in love with this gadget during a recent Sunday morning viewing of "DIY at 10". Bea has requested a pine spice rack. Anyway, I've unwrapped the parcel and left it on his armchair for him to discover when he gets home. Just imagining his glee is leaving me with a glow and making me want to do a little dance. Then, thinking that Mac might be a bit put out if daddy has a present and he doesn't, I went into WH Smith and bought him that DVD that he's been asking for. An I-know-you-want-this-so-thought-I'd-surprise-you present which is now sitting on his bed waiting for him to discover when he gets home from his tea at Ben's. Then, on my way back, I popped into Pets At Home to get goodies for the dogs, the rabbit and the goldfish. They had theirs straight away, all three dogs can smell a rawhide bone at twenty paces. I feel as light as a feather and keep hugging myself with smug glee!

It's true what they say: Tis better to give than to receive.

Impromptu

Have you ever had a good idea that has spiralled out of control? I think I had one this morning. It all started at half past 11 this morning when I saw Lydia and Matthew smooching in Bexley Town Centre. They looked so sweet and cuddly and, despite the fact that Matt is technically my step-son and I should have been slightly miffed that he was being molested in public, extremely good together. I'm pleased that Lyds has got over her recent doom and gloom about Susan at Number 30 and the baby. So I invited them to dinner this evening "just a buffet type thing but you're more than welcome". Ten minutes laterI answered a call from Saskia while Mac and I were in M&S looking at that gorgeous dessert they advertise on the telly. Just looking you understand. Poor old Blue is carrying some extra weight. Mine.

Anyway, Saskia is feeling extremely unloved and all alone as she has finally got round to dumping her incredibly boring boyfriend. "It's not that I miss him" she said moodily "I just miss having someone to be seen out with". So I invited her for dinner too. She perked up at this and said she'd ring Charlie to see if she wants to come. Twenty minutes later Charlie rang to say that she was going out with Rich Boyfriend Jonathan tonight but would "pop over later". See what I mean? A good idea spiralling.

"How many people is that mummy?" Mac asked as we headed for the supermarket. "Five plus us" I said through clenched teeth, crunching gears. I went round Sainsbury's like a woman possessed. Buffet dinner for 8 shoved in the trolley, I headed towards the checkout and spotted Enormous Au Pair sniffing the muffins in Starbucks. Bea was not far behind her "Leave it!" she barked, sounding not unlike me when the dogs are sniffing something unsavoury in the park. Casting an expert eye over my shopping trolley she enquired what was going on. Mac filled her in. Her face lit up. "I'd love to come too, leave Stephen in charge of EAP for once. It's quite tiring policing the fridge and I broke a nail yesterday wrenching the nutcrackers out of her hands". Nine for dinner, I added another quiche and more potato salad. Now to tell my darling "hate-all-these-dinner-party-type-things" husband.

The only available parking space was ten doors along - a battered Volvo sat behind David's newly washed and buffed Meriva taking up "my" parking space. I started clenching my jaw again as we headed into the house. All three dogs were in Super Hyper Out of Control mood and nearly knocked us flying as we stood in the hallway weighed down with shopping bags. The reason for their behaviour was sitting on the sofa wearing a tweed suit with legs akimbo and whiffing of aniseed. "Auntie Ginny!" Mac screeched and started gabbling at 90 miles an hour - roughly the speed at which Junior Dog was haring round the kitchen, claws scrabbling on the laminate flooring. "Ginny's here!" David said with a big beam on his chops. He adores his big sister and was wearing a tweed flat cap that she'd obviously brought with her.

That's ten for dinner then.

David was remarkably calm about the amount of people that were descending for dinner and even said that he was going to see if Matt wanted to come anyway. He even agreed to help me "peel things and whatever". I relaxed as Ginny filled us in on the latest developments, including her burgeoning romance with Colonel Hugh Ruffington-Smythe. "Silly bugger keeps sending me orchids. Think it's his way of being subtle. Well, he says they look like - y'know - don't they? And he wants to get me in the sack." My mind was reeling and trying to picture the orchid I've got on my window sill. Mac was agog at Ginny's feet sucking on an aniseed ball with all three dogs drooling over his legs. The doorbell interrupted us - Marjorie had forced her way past David clutching a flowered cake tin which she thrust into my arms. "I've made you a Dundee!" she squawked, eyeing Ginny with interest. Introductions were made and Marjorie plumped down on the sofa and looked set to stay for the rest of the afternoon. "Under no circumstances mention tonight" I hissed at David as I headed kitchen-wards.

Five minutes later David joined me "Too late, Ginny's invited her. And Frank." Trying not to headbutt the fridge, I sent David out for more cooked chicken, another quiche, more olives and another cheesecake. He came back an hour later with almost the entire contents of the hot and cold deli counters. "I've bought extra cheese, to go with the Vacherin." I suppose it was a tad greedy to want the whole thing all to myself. I started on the salad as Marjorie left to "get tarted up" - she added a slow wink to this comment and shimmied out the door.

That was an hour ago. I swear I can smell Franks Old Spice wafting over the gardens, fighting for air space with Marjorie's Poison. Ginny's been on the Jack Daniels since ten to four, Bea has phoned with the promise of champagne amid telling Enormous Au Pair "no, you can't come with me" in a tense voice and Saskia has just arrived with a face like a wet weekend in Cleethorpes.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Yum!

Fish and chips for tea!!!!

Salt, vinegar, gherkins, pickled onions and ketchup. Must go to wipe the drool off my keyboard......

A nice cup of tea

Susan at Number 30 gave birth to 8 pound two ounce Thomas Samuel Michael Robinson-Hoult at 6.3oam this morning. I know this because Lydia appeared, a sodden mess and surgically attached to a jumbo packet of mixed biscuits, on my doorstep at twenty past nine this morning. Lydia knew this because the jubilant father, Lydia's soon-to-be-ex-husband, rang Lydia at 8.30 to give her the happy news. Given that Susan is the woman he abandoned Lydia for, you can imagine Lydia didn't take the news in the spirit in which it was meant. "I couldn't think where else to go!" she sobbed as she threw herself at me. I half carried her into the living room, deposited her on the sofa and headed towards the kitchen to make a "nice cup of tea".

It's funny how tea is used to treat all ailments, worries, distressing news and, well, everything. And it always has to be a "nice" cup of tea, not just "oh, I'll make a cup of tea". During my mum's funeral (at which I thought I coped rather admirably) I would have drowned if I'd accepted all of the offers of "a nice cup of tea". My Auntie Ivy, after her first sip, always says "ooh, such a lovely cup of tea". She did that once when we were at BhS in Bromley. I sipped at mine again and wondered why it tasted like washing up water.

Having said that, I do like a "nice cup of tea". I have mine strong, with very little milk and no sugar. Builders Tea David calls it. He likes his "as it comes" and - depending on where he is - that could mean literally anything. Bea has hers with lemon "very weak, just swirl the bag round once" Charlie has gallons of milk in hers, Saskia hates tea in all shapes and forms but will tolerate a green tea every now and again.

I used to love tea time when I was at work. Always 3.30pm, we'd stop whatever we were doing (I worked at a hospital on the admin side of things) and head for the kettle. It was like a ritual across the whole building. Can't get through on the phone? They're making tea. Queueing at the desk to register for your appointment? They're making tea. Wondering where the hell everyone is? They're in the kitchen. Making tea.

Anyway, Lydia had her tea. She dunked some biscuits and drank the teapot dry. She said she felt better for it. A five minute break of normality (and a discussion about bunting for the Street Party) and then she was off again "I'm never going to have a baby am I? Am I? I'm going to end up all alone in the world with just a cat for company." she wailed, sobbing into the sofa cushions and grabbing for the bourbon creams.

I went out to make a nice cup of tea to go with them.

Coconut Chili Chicken

About six chicken breasts, whole
1 red onion
garlic cloves to taste!
2 stalks fresh lemon grass
as many green chillis (seeded) as you can cope with! (also some to marinate with)
Handful fresh coriander
Handful fresh parsley
2 cups of coconut milk
1/3 cup of vegetable oil

Pour coconut milk into a shallow dish and finely chop a few chillis and two of the garlic cloves and add to milk. Marinate chicken breasts for about an hour beforehand. Preheat the oven to gas mark 5. Peel the red onion and chop. Peel and lightly crush the other two garlic cloves. Trim the lemon grass, get rid of outer leaves, and roughly chop the stems. Put the red onion, garlic, lemon grass, coriander, parsley and half the oil in a food processor and puree. Put the rest of the oil in a pan or shallow flameproof casserole - it should be large enough to hold all the chicken pieces touching the bottom so they cook evenly, covered in the sauce.

Heat oil. Add the chicken pieces, skin-side down, and cook them for 3 to 4 minutes, turning once or twice. Pour in the coconut milk and puree mix and bring to the boil. Cover the pan and cook in the preheated oven for 40 to 50 minutes, until the chicken pieces are tender. Once cooked, season and serve with steamed spinach leaves, green beans and crushed new potatoes.

Eat, as I did, with large glass of Aqua Libra and three dogs dribbling all over my feet.