The rain we have been promised for days has finally materialised. But it is what we call ‘straight-down rain’, which anyone who lives here will tell you is the type that does not come in through every crack and crevice of your house to collect in pools which lie in wait if you are foolish enough to venture out of bed barefoot. We should be thankful for small mercies though – this is only the second time it has rained since we arrived in September, so it would be churlish to complain.
We have had a trying ten days with only intermittent internet and phone services while Turk Telekom installed new cables in our village, no service at all for several days, in fact. With limited opportunity to waste time on the internet, it has surprised me just how many jobs I’ve been getting done in the house. Not to mention plenty of beach time. Continue reading “It’s raining, so it must be a jam day”
The summer in Cornwall appears to be over. Falmouth Week has passed, the tourists are all in a very long line on the A39, heading ‘back to England’, and the hedgerows are absolutely groaning with blackberries after basking in glorious sunshine for what seems like months.
No recipe today, I am simply curious, and I am confined to barracks because it is hoofing down with rain. I was just browsing the rather impressively organised stats that WordPress very kindly collates for us and I am intrigued to know why so many people are looking at the 
We are planning a beach trip tomorrow. This is becoming something of a habit of late – partly because our neighbours seem to have the noisiest visitors in the world, and this could possibly incite me to cross words if I have to put up with too much more of it, which I am keen to avoid in the interests of good neighbourly relations. 
We had an incident this week involving: a) a piece of fillet steak, and b) a member of our household. Obviously it wouldn’t be correct to ‘grass up’ the perpetrator, but let’s just say there is a large clue in the photo on the left.
It’s true. We’ve scraped out the last jar of piccalilli. At the beginning of the winter, I made a Piccallilli mountain so vast that it probably qualified for some kind of EU subsidy. It is just the thing to perk up our cheese butties when we go out walking – I used to hate it, but have gradually acquired a taste for it after years of making it for Robin. I still don’t like the bits of cauliflower, but I’m in charge of making the packed lunches, so I just sneak those into Robin’s sarnies. 
You would definitely have to be British to spot the link between that heading and today’s recipe – so apologies to everyone else for the dreadful pun.
aviewfrommykitchen.com 