R's rue

  My obsession  love affair with scotch eggs is now the thing of legend.  Just recently a I ❤️ scotch Eggs T shift was delivered to Bwthyn Y Llan and before that a gift of two,were left on the kitchen wall, wrapped in silver foil and an Aldi Carrier bag. Tonight I was left a trio of bespoke chilli Scotch Eggs, a gift from the a hospice head housekeeper whose husband works as a Butcher in nearby Conwy. Suffice to say my diet went out of the window The butchers they came from is Edward’s Of Conwy  https://shop.edwardsofconwy.co.uk/ And it must be said their chilli scotch egg is a thing of sublime beauty  I ate my first without taking my clinical mask off, which is not an easy procedure in anyone’s books…and the second I savoured more slowly….like a Frenchman may do over six oysters and a glass of champagne Two minutes later, I was finished The third I shared with some colleagues.  As I didn’t want to appear as greedy. I am set up for the ni...

Amongst the many books I have accumulated over the years, I  came across a grubby little Sheffield Street Directory. I believe that it was printed in 1935 even though that significant piece of information is not announced on the cover. The small book lists every street in this illustrious northern city, indicating which zone and postal district it was in back in 1935.  Alongside those pages, there are advertisements for a range of products and services including "Drama and Elocution" with Bessie Barwell at her house on Machon Bank and "Corsets, Abdominal Belts and Elastic Hosiery" from Ellis, Son and Paramore.  There are also adverts for estate agents, breweries and even high grade coal from the nearby town of Bolsover: "Not an Ordinary Coal but a Super Coal ". However, there were two particular adverts that made me chuckle and were rather surprising too - adverts for mysterious schemes that were guaranteed to make you taller!  Standing at exactly six...

 Day Two: In the weeds I go. Time to get scraped, itchy and dirty. Strapping on the braces of discomfort. Please relish youth. You don’t get it back. I harken back to days of trying to drive a go-kart and failing miserably. I drove it in the gate five times. Covered in cow manure and sweat. Can you imagine?  An editorial for Vogue awaits me.  As frustrated as I was that day, it’s now a treasured memory. A keepsake of driving. I long for something I can’t do, but that day I did.  Failing in open spaces. Farm life gives you lessons that now cost hundreds in the therapy chair. I don’t regret either. I need both. I need to fall down, feel the earth and then discuss it.  It’s a pattern, I’m sure I don’t have the right to trademark. I’ve tasted grass, hay bales and bugs. There is no limit to what you encounter in the woods of Carolina. The morning call of the chickens has me brewing coffee at four in the morning. It’s not lost on me that the life I lead is a dream to...