Well at least it’s a great excuse to make Chilli Pumpkin soup.
It also has a striking likeness to me as well, especially after I put way too much CHILLI in the soup.
All those eons ago, my childhood was bereft of pumpkins. We mainly had what Dad could grow on his allotment and that was definitely never pumpkins. But he most definitely could grow TURNIPS. Lots of them. Lots of especially tough ones that had the same texture as a cannonball. So it was Turnip lanterns and Turnip soup, turnip with everything. I remember trying the ‘I’m allergic to Turnips’ line, but for some reason my parents didn’t buy into that one…. These days I blame my staggeringly good looks on Turnip poisoning.
Happy days….
So if you are ever having a TURNIP Halloween feast, please let me know, I would love to TURNIP for it.
I wonder how Shakespeare would describe this scene. I bet he would use lots and lots of vowels…. This set me off thinking about school. What would Bill think about how his plays are taught in some schools these days. Initially he might be a tad chuffed that his words are still being read. Once he had got over that feeling, then what would he really think of how the plays are being used.
When I was at school with the dinosaurs, we would read the Shakespeare plays together as a class and then act out the scenes. I remember doing a rather excellent snotty nosed version of Lucentio. The teachers tried to make the learning fun and interactive. As a kid I shouldn’t have really liked Bill’s plays, but I actually did. School did it’s job.
Fast forward to Hawklad’s schooling and wow it’s changed. Shakespeare is still taught, just so very differently. The fun has gone… Now it’s about parrot learning key quotes. It’s about memorising the metaphors, the juxtapositions, the oxymorons, the alliterations. It’s not about acting the plays out, enjoying them, that’s all replaced by being told what to think about the plays. The work is so very often, repetitive, writing sections of the plays out, word for word. Then writing out the comments the teacher has scrawled next to the text. Then doing the same thing, over and over again. Got to get those words into the child’s head. Got to get the one approved interpretation memorised. They never ask what the pupil thinks about the play, just what the pupil can remember from the set model answer. In too many subjects Hawklad has been marked down for expressing his own opinion. Its not interactive learning, it’s more like brainwashing. Is it me or is schooling going backwards in the UK.
Deep sigh…..
I’m not sure Bill would be that impressed as well……
Here is a completely random fact for you. If this was like one of those fine old Roman Roads, and just kept going ‘straight as a die’. Well if you kept driving straight, in just over an hour, you would get to where Chris Rea was born. I’m not sure this would be the Road to Hell he was talking about. Add another few miles on in that direction and you get to where mum was born. She had a few Chris Rea cd’s.
Sorry, this is what happens when you play with the newly found compass and direction finder on your mobile. Especially when your stood waiting for Captain Chaos to finish off his morning constitutional. It takes a while…..
It’s also happens to be nearly 2 miles to the nearest dog poo bin. Deep joy. Spookily 2 miles in the same direction as Chris Rea.
Actually thinking about it, I could also have picked the Free and Bad Company vocalist, Paul Rodger’s birth place. That would have been ‘Alright Now’. Then again I could have gone for Captain James Cook, but I’m not sure what his Rock Music credentials are like.
It’s nice to be thinking about other things for a few days. Even random things. Schooling was really getting me down. School definitely feels like somewhere between the Road to Hell and Another Brick in the Wall, but let’s worry about that next week. Back to random facts.
This road leads you to the actor Richard Griffiths birthplace, thars the actor who played Harry Potters Stepdad. Go a few more miles down this extended road and you get to Ridley Scott’s birthplace. Alien, Gladiator, Blade Runner.
It’s been a cracking Fungi season. A gift that keeps on giving.
The school half term holiday starts tomorrow evening. The school at home project has completely nosedived this half term. Any support provided is becoming at best very very very patchy, too many of the subjects are dropping completely off the radar. It’s all very vexing and we both quip that it feels like the postman will be bringing a letter from school saying that Hawklad has been sacked. So a week off is needed to lift his spirits, to relax. He is seriously stressed out.
Apparently NOT….
School has made it clear that for pupils like Hawklad, this half term is about work and revising. The school will be checking to see that pupils have put in the hour after hour of work by setting tests as soon as school reopens again.
All work NO play.
I realise other parents might take a different view but this is so wrong to me. Everybody needs a break, especially in these times. Kids need time to relax and have fun. So many are stressed out. Stressed out with school, freaked out by the madness they see unfold all around them. No wonder that UK Child Mental Health Services are being swamped. Latest figures show that over 400000 children per month are being treated for mental health problems.
So here, yes there will be a small bit of work but hopefully bucket loads of relaxation and play. If Hawklad isn’t up to work then stuff school.
It’s the Great Bloggers Bake-off this weekend. So here goes, time for a bit of homemade apple pie, made with home grown super sour apples. From this very rainbow tree.
After some very careful editing of which part of the pie to show you, it kinda looks edible.
And the official taste test….
“It’s reasonably decent but are you going to give the first attempt to the birds….” Shush… let’s not mention the first try.
Yes the birds will feed well tomorrow.
For all the latest on the Bloggers Bake-off go over to Mel’s great site.
No sign of any teaching coming from School so might as well go for a walk around Castle Howard. A quiet, beautiful walk.
Quiet, well until an international meeting.
Walking along a path and we came across a clearly confused couple looking a tad bit lost. As we approached the chap spoke, spoke in the deepest of Australian accents.
“Excuse me Mate, but we are trying to find the CASTLE”
Apparently they were on a driving holiday around the UK and had seen Castle Howard on the map and thought, let’s visit one of those King Arthur kinda places….. They had been walking around the Estate for ages and hadn’t found the old stone castle yet. Sadly I had to disappoint them.
‘See that big old house, that’s the castle”
After a few choice Australian words ##@##*#ocks, they asked if
“I knew of a proper castle round here…”
A few minutes later they had directions to three more castle like castles.
That was my third ever conversation with someone from Australia. All have been completely random affairs. The second chat was in Switzerland. We were walking in Interlaken when a family approached us and asked.
“Do you speak English, we heard you (me) singing Yellow Submarine”
Wow was I that loud…. Having confirmed the English thing, the conversation went very south of the equator.
“Do you know if there is a shop here that sells Swiss Cuckoo Clocks, the kids want to see some and we can’t find a phrase for that in our German helpful holiday phrase book..”
No I suspect it’s not a common phrase. Maybe it should be, maybe the first one the phrase book should tell you. Just like the phrase book Aliens like ET or Thanos need when they visit Earth. The first phrase being a translation of ‘take me to your leader’. Currently in the UK an alien would need to use the phrase ‘take me to your useless numpty’. Anyway the bizarre Australian conversation went even further south when we confirmed that we had just been in a shop looking at a shed load of those wonderful clocks. Once again Australians left with helpful directions.
My first Australian conversation was just as odd. I had just left Warwick University to finally earn my keep. I was working at a computer installation and I had drawn the short straw – I was covering the night shift. Well after midnight, Reception put through a call from Sydney. I took the call and happily said
‘Hello Sydney’
– whoever Sydney was. At the other end of the line was an equally happy lady with an Australian accent. Opps. I apologised.
‘Sorry, I thought the call was from someone called Sydney, not actually from Sydney…’
“No problems, I am from Sydney, but I am also called Sidney”
I found out that she hadn’t been named after the city but after the actor Sidney Poitier. Apparently her parents were huge fans and had hoped for a strapping Aussie Rules playing boy who would also be an actor just like their hero. Apparently a short, ginger haired girl who was in love with George Michael didn’t quite suit the Sidney Poitier name.
I’m actually looking forward to my next Australian conversation. They are always so bizarre.
Ok, it might not win any Michelin Stars but in the great culinary scheme of things, that ain’t too bad at all. The Yorkshire Baron Frankenstein can occasionally do some of that strange science called Baking….
If this muppet can do it…..
Go on, why don’t you have a go. This weekend, it’s the Great Bloggers Bake-Go on, why don’t you have a go.
You can find all the latest on the Bake-off and so much more on Mel’s wonderful site.
Make an Ice Cream cake. Not only that but make the Ice Cream to make the cake.
Well…….
This was the end result.
It only has two molecular states. Runny or Rock Hard Granite. Not exactly perfect material to build that cake.
As for the Taste Test. The official Tester refused – “it’s like something from Alien 6”. To me the taste and texture was somewhere south of ‘deeply disturbing’.
Come on, you surely can do better than this culinary abomination. Why not have a crack at this years Great Bloggers Bake-off happening this weekend. All the latest can be found on Mel’s wonderful site.
I had high hopes. Such a simple baking task. Even I couldn’t mess up flapjacks. Well I kinda didn’t. Maybe…..
Enough flapjack to fill a big plate. Well it should have been.
If you like flapjack that instantly crumbles, falls apart, disintegrates, then this would be perfect for you. After several attempts of pressing and moulding, I managed to get just TWO pieces to stick together, just don’t get too close – their stability is severely compromised.
Whisper it. Just seconds later these perfect flapjacks had started to fall apart.
The rest well, I just let Hawklad spoon the crumbs into heaps of Maple Syrup, to form an Edible Mess. That’s our version of an Eton Mess.
Why don’t you have a crack at a bit of baking. Its the Great Bloggers Bake-off real soon. You know it makes sense.
To check on the latest, drop in on Mel’s awesome blog.
If you like Fungi, then this is the time to come to Yorkshire.
There has been MUSHROOM today to admire these regular autumnal visitors. A bit of a pattern is forming with Hawklad’s final school year before the main exams next May. A couple of subjects upload reasonable class notes onto the online school system, enough to follow a lesson but there is no interaction with the teacher. A couple of subjects will randomly load up shed load of questions, no explanations, no teaching materials, just questions. Hawklad then needs to figure out what he is supposed to be learning. Sadly his answers to the shed load of questions mostly remain unmarked, not even reviewed, an answer sheet makes it his responsibility to assess his own work. And the rest of the subjects, well let’s be polite, the bare minimum is sometimes being provided ….. possibly.
School has been back one month now and he hasn’t had any direct contact with a teacher. The occasional brief email, the occasional one or two word scribbled note on a document. That’s it. No teaching interaction.
So with a return to the classroom seemingly as remote a possibility as ever, we have mostly falling into homeschooling. It definitely doesn’t feel like a ‘school at home’ project anymore.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 