I'm sorry.

Please, accept my apologies, I misjudged you.

All these years I kept you away from me. I declined, in a very polite way. I thought I was doing the right thing. But now I can see that was a big mistake. Sorry, beetroot. Forgive me for ignoring you, bypassing your existence, even (this is embarrassing) encouraging others to do the same. Apologies for being a hater. A massive one.

Gooseberry & Mackerel Ceviche

Luck. This is the word I've been hearing the most over the last few weeks. 

How lucky you are. How jammy can you get. You was born under a lucky star. You always come up smelling of roses. 

And I indeed feel fortunate. But to be honest, I know little or nothing about luck. I've never relied on it and I’m afraid of people who do.

So that’s it. I don’t believe in luck. I believe in hard work and in being ready to take advantage of opportunity. To overcome the bad times

Currants and Clotted Cream Parcels

What would the house of your dreams look like? That was the title of a post from a blog I follow. I’m afraid the text is in Spanish, but in summary the author poses the question and then talks about how probably most of the readers would imagine all sort of houses: big expensive houses with huge gardens and a heated pool, great cottages with loads of land, small cosy modern lofts… But all of them will have something in common: all of them will be feasible, doable and buildable in the real world.

I need to admit I imagined the house of my dreams. And it was pretty feasible (in a world where all money is available). Not too large, detached house, with 4 or 5 bedrooms, the top one being dormered, a huge kitchen with masses of cupboards, drawers and storage systems, pans and pots hanging on the ceiling, two ovens, an AGA kitchen and of course a Kitchen Aid!!!!!!  And I would kill for a cherry pit remover machine. There will be hidden corridors, passages and trap doors with slides and intricate stairs throughout the inner house. It would also have a great garden with all sort of flowers and a huge tree house on an ancient tree. There will be lots of windows with all sort of shapes everywhere. And a wooden mailbox. 

Honey Glazed Aubergine & Bresaola Rolls

I don’t normally pay attention to the things I read on Facebook. I mean, not the things my friends write (I read all of this, I promise!!) but not the spam-like things.

But last week something really hit me.

“It's a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you're ready. I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything. There's almost no such thing as ready. There's only now. And you may as well do it now. I mean, I say that confidently as if I'm about to go bungee jumping or something--I'm not. I'm not a crazed risk taker. But I do think that, generally speaking, now is as good a time as any.”

Banana, White Chocolate & Honeycomb Strudel

If there is something that I find absolutely amazing about the British culture is their rooted recycling  and DIY culture. Maybe this ‘make do and mend’ attitude stems from the abrupt change in economic circumstances recently seen worldwide. In Spain it seems that people live in a throwaway society: if something is not brand new, then is not worthy of being used. In fact, things are thrown away just because they are not brand new. Even if they’re still working. It is a bit of “lest somebody think I cannot afford it”. Another good example of our lack-of-lessons-learnt attitude. The stuff we buy has become cheaper and cheaper over the last years and now retailers can sell clothes cheaper than a loaf of bread. This reduction in price has led to a devaluation of how we see and feel about the things we have. Why to bother mending a t-shirt if we can get a brand new one for £3. Even if we are aware of where all this cheap stuff is made and come from. Overconsumption at any cost.

I absolutely love the make-the-most-of-the-stuff culture. Make Do and Mend came about when clothes rationing was introduced during the Second World War. You can read more about this here.

Potato, Chorizo and Onion Spanish Frittata

My husband and I are meant for each other. Together we make an incredibly good team. And this is because we are completely different.

I am organized, thorough and tenacious. He is untidy, forgetful and unfocused. On the other side, I’m impulsive, passionate and a bit flighty. He is reflective,  a perfectionist and meticulous.

We balance each other, he makes me slow down when I’m at full gallop and I encourage him when he’s feeling indecisive. And it has been like that for the last 13 years.

Being different has lots of advantages when managing a household. He’s the best bathroom cleaner and I’m amazing at arranging meals. 

But, we have a problem with our stuff. I’m a chartered member of the just-enough-rubbish brigade and my husband has a serious case of Diogenes Syndrome, or better known as let's-keep-it-just-in-case disease.

Cauliflower, Pistachio and Wild Mushrooms Soup

Something I have always wanted to do is go camping. 

I never went on a camping trip when I was a child, and since then I have wanted to put that idea into fruition. This is why ages ago I gave a camping tent to my husband for his birthday. A camping tent we sold brand new when we left Spain, as we never used it. Failed present. Eek.

Since I live in the South West I have been giving the idea of camping more thought. But every time I proposed it, the never-ending list of stuff to buy and prepare ended up deflating us. Camping tent, sleeping bags and rugs, rucksacks, lanterns, air pump, water jugs, thermos, stove, matches, plates & bowls, folding table and chairs, compass, whistle, candles… the camping gear needed to survive out in the open is never ending. Not to mention all the hassle of packing up, setting up, dismantling and packing up again with 2 toddlers running around and rummaging in the other camper’s picnic baskets. Hey Yogi! Yes, Boo Boo? Just by imagining the picture I start to feel stressed.