'That' call

Given the nature of the calls we take there are bound to be those occasional moments when a call gets to you, hits you where you hurt emotionally, where you are vulnerable.

Throughout our training we have been warned - maybe primed is a better way of putting it - of getting a call that has some kind of adverse effect.

Many jobs, professions can potentially be emotionally draining for all sorts of reasons. Those who enter them find all sorts of ways to deal with this; often by acquiring a thicker skin; of allowing themselves to become a little desensitised.

I'm not sure I want to lose my sensitivity in order to able to cope with the downsides. I like being sensitive.......well, most of the time. It's part of me and to grow a thick, calloused emotional skin over it would seem a little sad. I'd become someone else. I'd lose something.

Today I had that tested. I got 'that' call.

Nothing hugely traumatic; but it struck some nerve somewhere and my breath got caught somewhere between my heart and my soul.

I paused, gathered my breath, steadied my heart, gave my soul a cuddle.........and then carried on with the call.

My trainer suggested I take a 10 minute break.......nice man............but no, to carry on was the best way to deal with it. A minute was enough.

Did it thicken my skin for the next difficult one? No. Rather than deny any empathy with some poor sod at the other end of the phone I want to embrace it and more.......to harness it to do even better.......be determined to do a good job.

I'm not going to deny the emotional side of what I do.

I did some good today. I had people thanking me for settling their minds, for being that first link in gaining some help for what for them were worrying, frustrating - and more - situations. For being that calm voice that provided comfort.

And I did it whilst still retaining my thin....ish skin.

Moving on

I started this blog on the pretext of providing light relief between 'bouts of writing'. Ho hum, the blog seems to have taken over. My writing of late has been on here.

Nowt wrong with that but now I think it's time to move the 'other writing' forward; to see if there is anything to be gotten out of it. The novel has lain like a cheese ripening in the dark. Time to dust it off and see what I think.

Is it what I thought it was?

And the synopsis, for that is what will initially sell a work, is the thing I'm working on now. Not easy. I've started it so I'll have to finish.

Interesting though. To bullet point a piece, explain what happens and try to create an interest, a selling point.

Hmmmm.

An Italian to die for

They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. True, but I think it applies to women too.

Mrs AWB is not a 'foodie' in the way that I am so when she enjoys something I know I have really cracked it. I did yesterday. I hasten to add I don't always.

Here we go.

Fry some onions in good olive oil, throw on some diced bell pepper. Fry for a while and then add diced courgette and - previously salted - diced aubergine. Add some finely chopped garlic now.

Saute for a while and pour in some Passata. I wanted to use fresh tomatoes - skinned - but the ones in the supermarket were crap. Stir in some cooked chicken, olives and fresh basil and cook for a few more minutes. Season.

We had it with fresh pasta, shaved parmesan and a nice Italian......er..........wine.

Oh, nearly forgot, I also did some garlic mushrooms and some garlicy spinach to go with it.

Notice I don't include quantities here. Do as you will, that's my motto with some of these basic dishes. That's the beauty of them.

The end result was lovely. Mrs AWB was impressed and I added a few more Brownie points to help balance the faux pas and left footed comments that tend to tip the balance against me.

That's a life though innit.

A balance.

A Good Boning

Now if you google the title of this piece you will get two avenues of thought......Try it.

I performed a brilliant boning in front of Mrs AWB this morning. She was impressed and I have to say I was surprised as to how proficient I was at the task. It was as though I had been boning all my life. I worked up quite a sweat too.

So which variety of boning am I talking about?

A leg of lamb of course. You didn't seriously think I was going to talk about the other kind of boning here. The title is to tease and to see how many 'porn grazers' venture in.

The purpose of the boning?

Well, to take a stuffing made up of dried apricots, chutney, chopped Rosemary from the garden, lamb mince and bread crumbs. All mixed together - I love squishy mixing with my hands - and placed inside the boned joint, then rolled up and tied with string.

It's in the oven as I type and is starting to smell lovely.

It goes with a sauce made up of stock - being made from the bone - flour, mustard, Worcestershire sauce and cream along with the pan juices from the roast.

Apparently this is one of my 'cough' best dishes according to the family.

Fingers crossed.

To Garden

Is to enter paradise.

There are so many forms of paradise aren't there. The arms of a lover. The ambience of a good meal. A walk by a river. Too many to recount.

One that is readily available for me is my garden.

This morning it was the first big clear out I have had this year. Taking out all the crap to clear a way for the new growth that is starting to poke through.

Hard prune the Dogwood. A more gentle trim for the Hypericums and Buddleias. Fairly hard on the Sambucus.

I examined our Acer Aureum - a small yellow-leaved Japanese Maple. They are prone to dying back. Temperamental things. But this year our little thing is bursting with new life. Every branch alive and well.

I smiled. I'm sure it smiled back.

I was out for eight and done before ten



Our little private garden to the rear - although with the new buildings behind not so private until the trees grow some more.











Part of our side garden. So spartan now. the contrast with just three months time will be amazing.

Her middle name is Imelda

Or at least it should be. Mrs AWB cleared out her footwear this morning. I was amazed. I've always perceived her as frugal. Tight even. But lo and behold pair after pair appeared from all sorts of nooks and crannies.

The photo is but a small portion of them, mostly sandals from I can see.

Just how many pairs of sandals does a person need?

A Private Moment

I drove home tonight...sorry, this morning, without passing a single car. It was raining. Being out at 3.30 in the morning has an eerie peace about it, the rain enhanced that. I imagined being 'The Last Man on Earth', a sort of Science Fiction scenario.

The rain reminded me of an extract from my novel............oh dear, I hear you say, not that.

But hey, this is my blog so I'll post what I want to.

Here it is; the main character is waiting to meet his guests and allows his mind to drift;

"Rain. Sometimes it doesn’t so much fall as collapse. When wind enters the equation it can become a different animal but now it is just falling, collapsing and does so so lazily that it seems as though it is just too tired to do anything else. I stand in the gallery that surrounds our courtyard and take a deep breath to absorb the freshness that promises to awaken what has been a languid late afternoon and turn it into an evening more suited to what we have to do. My face is just inches away from the rain but I can keep it dry. I can taunt it in a way I suppose, as it falls in front of my eyes unable to wet me. That is just an illusion. Rain does not answer to anyone and any cover is but a temporary and, in this case, a man made thing.

It goads the ferns and shrubs in the centre with its constant pricking. It is almost as if each leaf is irritated by the persistence and attempts to flick away the drops much as a cow would flick its tail to keep the flies at bay.

Rain is intimate. You don’t listen to it from afar. It is an up close and personal sensation; it encourages feelings of insularity as it cocoons you within its embrace and muffles all other sounds and smells. You listen to and feel each drop, some assault, others caress but they all combine into a story. It is that story that impacts on you. A drop on its own is nothing. Taken together they form a narrative that, tonight, struggles to lift itself from the page. But the peace of tonight is deceptive. It hides a power that would be far more blatant were it to be joined by even just a slight breeze."

Tonight has that 'lazy rain'. Made me quite reflective.

Take a note of the time

It's silly o'clock in the morning and I'm sitting here with a whisky and ginger feeling as giddy as a ....................oooh.......let's see now............a chip. No that's crap.

An elephant on helium......now where that came from I don't know but it'll do.

My first 'night shift' and only a 'half night' too. Out of training I'll do 9.00 pm to 7.00 am. An eye opener so I've heard.

So how was it?

Strange. After about 11.00 pm very few help-line calls came in. The public think we are closed. So it was mostly '9's and what a strange bag of tricks they can be.

For obvious reasons I cannot comment on individual calls so I'll have to leave it at that.

I will say this though. Driving home in the tiny hours of the new day is sweet. It feels sort of naughty.

And drinking whisky whilst feeling as sharp as a.............sharp thing..........is rather fun.

Hmmmm...............maybe I'm not so sharp after all.

A debate is going on in my mind...................do I hang around for an hour and a half for Mrs AWB to get up?

On a serious note it does make you realise that the world never stops, that our society goes on and on and whilst some of us sleep others take up the reins. I find that reassuring.

That some of you will be awake while I'm snoring my head off.

A Celebration

Families can be the source of some the happiest most joyful moments at one end of the scale and some of the most hateful experiences at the other.

We are at our most vulnerable when interacting with our families.

Yesterday we had our son, daughter and granddaughter with us and basked in the fact that our little family had seemed to come full circle.

It reminded me of when Son and Daughter were very young and played together and were, at least when very young, friends. They are chalk and cheese and over the years have drifted apart amidst arguments and tension.

Now they are adult they've finally accepted each other probably because they have come to terms with themselves. We spent a lovely time just chilling together.

And what is so lovely is that they want to be with us, their parents.

How lovely is that.

It's Spring

And I'm all of a tingle.

It gets me every year. That hint of warmth. The scent of new growth taking over from the deadening odours of winter. A little splash of colour here and there.

It makes me all goose pimply.

I think I'd better shut up there ;)

I've been playing

Like the picture?

I found it and posted about it yesterday but realised that it would slide down into the depths of my blog as new posts took over. I like it too much for that to happen. So now it welcomes me, and you, every time I open my blog.

It makes me smile and feel nice so it'll stay until I get bored and maybe replace it with another.

I've also created a new sidebar containing links to some of my favourite haunts.

Some House Keeping

A number of people have said they like my photos. I enjoy looking back at some of them too. Particularly those that accompany a 'Day Out' sort of post.

So I've created a new 'Subject' in my side bar to take us all straight there without having to wade through all the verbose crap that I have created.

Memory

It's a wonderful thing, memory. A joy to be human and appreciate what it can mean. I mean to say; who'd be a fish with memory of, I think, 7 seconds?

How many seconds made up last week? For that was a week that will be embedded in my memory. My first full week at the new job turned out to be frightening, thrilling, exciting and fulfilling.

It was glorious.

And then it was capped off with a lovely meeting with a very good friend. What more could I want?

More of the same I suppose.

The photo? Another sweet memory of a holiday in Majorca where we wandered along the shore and had the most exquisite meal as the light faded to turn a bright sunny day into an intimate sultry evening. I still remember that; garlic prawns followed by Sea Bream. Watching the sun flash his farewell as he slid away.

That's what life should be. Doing things that are worth remembering so that when you are too old to do them again you can dip into that library and recall times gone by.

I've got plenty of time left to create yet more experiences to relive.

But when I'm old and sitting in my chair I won't be sad. I'll be thinking how lucky I have been to have experienced such lovely a life.

And not been a fish.

Banter

All workplaces have their own style of banter. When I worked as an IFA from an open office available to all who came in as they wished the banter would vary enormously. Often typical football chat amongst the men but sometimes some quite interesting conversations about all sorts of diverse subjects depending on how busy we were.

You see we could choose when we spoke and for how long. There were no time constraints especially as we were self-employed so there was no supervision to worry about either.

In an emergency Call Centre the ambience is totally different. We are driven by external circumstances and since we never know when a call may come in the chatter tends to be bullet points, quips, jokes and always of a light nature. Nothing heavy is discussed really.

It has to be that way. We get enough of the serious intense stuff from our callers and need the light-hearted crap to balance things out; to lighten what can be stressful.

So you may end up with three people sharing a joke whilst the fourth will be dealing with a violent domestic from a screaming caller. That fourth person may finish their call and join in at the same time that one or more of the others gets diverted. It's very fluid.

It has to be that way owing to the nature of the work. It has to be light too or you would go mad. You finish a call and leave it behind you.

And all the while you keep an ear open for those 'bleeps' notifying you of an new incoming call whilst keeping the other ear open for a neighbour needing help to call, say, an ambulance while they deal with a difficult job.

You cannot relax at all.

It's so steep

The learning curve I mean.

New challenges can be both exciting and daunting. The balance between the two can be very fine. Yesterday I found myself rather near the edge.

I have had 9 weeks or so of theory training. Yesterday I started a similar amount of time in 'on the job' training. A full blown shift taking any call that came in through the queuing system. I wasn't hugely nervous in the build up and even when I started I was apprehensive rather than nervous. My trainer took calls to start with. I listened and then took some and then we talked through what had happened. All very intense.

Imagine facing 4 screens with all sorts of information which you aren't entirely familar with. Imagine having to use that and find your way through reams of stuff with an agitated caller wanting to tell you things. Imagine having to glean from that caller enough sensible stuff to type in for other people to read and understand. Imagine trying to listen to your trainer prompting you when you hesitate and fumble. Think, 'Extreme Multitasking'. And with the genuine emergencies it's all under time pressure.

Two or three hours in to the thing it hit me. I realised with a sinking heart just how far I had to travel.......and all uphill too. My trainer described it perfectly; the theory was a gradual incline but now, at the start of the proper job I was at the bottom of the steepest section.

For two or three hours I wondered in awe at the height of this hill. I was frightened and for that short while I just wanted to go away for a cuddle. It's rare that I'm phased but I was then. I was on the road to panic.

So what did I do? I stopped looking up at the hill, put my head down and got on with it. I put my fighting head on.

By the end of the shift I was enjoying it.........and learning.

My trainer told me I had done very well for a first day; better than many he'd trained. He told me I expected too much of myself. We looked back and examined some of the calls I had taken. I was amazed. I had thought I had done a dozen at most.

There were something like 20 and they covered all sorts of things. It dawned on me that I had achieved something on that day. I had started the long haul and am now looking forward to my next spell on the phones later today.

Sometimes we face challenges that test us to our limit. It can be anything; something that others would find easier whilst yet others would find impossible.

I coped yesterday by realising that looking at the whole task I had ahead of me was a waste of time. Instead of looking ahead I examined the here and now, looking at each step I had taken and learning from that. It was only then that I realised I had made some progress.

There are times in our lives when we need to look ahead. But there are also those times when to do so can be dangerous. Now is one of those times for me.

Don't look at the miles. Just enjoy the inches.

Earwigging

Do you?

If, like me, you are nosey you will listen in to other people's conversations. In fact it can be the main source of entertainment when in a restaurant or a pub. I love it. So does Mrs AWB.

Today we ventured down to the Peak District for the first time this year. We love it there and now tend to visit a number of regular spots, mostly in the Dark Peak.

After visiting the Chatsworth Farm Shop we went to our favourite pub in the area, The Plough.

If you read the reviews you'll get a mixed picture. All I can say is that we love it. The landlord is a combination of the best kind of landlord, a maitre de and your favourite uncle. In all the years we've been there we've never been disappointed.

Today we sat near the fire. You can see it in the website; a little corner to the left of the main fire.

And that's where the fun was. Our neighbours were middle aged; I guess a little older than us and friendly too.

But, oh boy, was he out to impress her. I got the impression it was a 'new' relationship. He pontificated. He did like the sound of his own voice and ranged through what kind of holiday he liked by laying down 'The rules of holidaying' to how much money his associates in business made; a lot. She sat on the edge of her seat, mostly in silence. It seemed so odd for people of that age. They hadn't progressed beyond their teens.

Perhaps that's why they were 'starting again'.

After getting bored with them we moved our ears towards some new visitors.

Ancient perms. Have you noticed how the older and more crinkly women get the more perfect their hair becomes. Sort of like pale raisins with plastic wigs glued on top. When they talked they mentioned a 90th birthday. I think that was for the youngest and sprightliest of the three.

They took ages to get seated. It always strikes me as strange that as we get older time travels ever faster and we, as individuals get ever slower.

I wonder what it must be like to so old as to be virtually unable to move and yet feel time moving so fast.

Enough of such meanderings.

We finished our visit with a walk along the Derwent Reservoir


Some of my photos;



A view near the start












Trees marching down en masse to the resevoir.







A view back up from where we had started from.











And finally, there is a photo of me. A nice one too but I decided not to inflict it upon you. I mean, you can have too much of a good thing.

She blushed

What is it that attracts you?

For me there are just a few things that trigger that 'something'.

A smile.

Kind eyes.

A sense of humour........and no that doesn't mean she likes my jokes; I can't and don't tell any.............just a similar sense of the ridiculous I suppose.

And finally..........a blush..... a pinking up.......

I'm smitten then.

Yesterday, our last day before joining our teams, was spent listening in and taking a few calls. Luckily for me the team we were listening in with were the people I'll be joining. They seemed really nice.

I sat with a pleasant woman. We hit it off and, unusually for me, flirted a little. Nothing untoward. In fact many wouldn't regard what we did as flirting. It was subtle and that isn't the thing these days is it.

It boiled down to a smile and eye contact that told us that the other was 'OK'.

And then she 'pinked up'...........and she smiled more broadly too.................oh my word.

And there it will stay.

The bigger the build up

The more anxious you get. The more important the goal of that build up becomes.

And maybe that sense of proportion can get overlooked.

We had 9 weeks or so. Imagine being trained for something for longer?

I was imagining being a young soldier on his first 'live' mission to Afghanistan.

Puts taking phone calls into perspective.

My first went fine. Easier than training for once you are talking it is just you and that person at the other end of the phone. Strangely intimate. They don't see the trembling hands or the frightened rabbit look as you wonder what to do. They just hear that voice and the clacking of the keyboard; they don't know that half the furious tapping is correcting mistakes made through anxiety......well some of them he he.

Apparently my voice would sound calm no matter how scared I am...........I wasn't really yesterday. Didn't have the time.

Thank you again to those who wished me well. Much appreciated by this wittering old fool.

Six words

That's all, seven at a stretch. Those first words are fairly well set in stone. I practice them in my mind all the time.

After that we fly by the seat of our pants.

Tomorrow we go 'live'. We will answer real 999 calls. Closely supervised of course.

All of us are nervous. One was talking about Prozac, only half jokingly. I cannot remember the last time I was so apprehensive about something.

And for what? Answering a bloody phone!!!

But there's the rub. Just what will that phone call entail? They are so varied and unpredictable we cannot - thank goodness - have a script. Many will involve stressed people who we have to glean accurate information from and get it sent off quickly.

I could get..............

An Armed Robbery?

A Rape?

A Road Traffic Accident?

The scared victim of domestic abuse?

........or a daft bugger who doesn't understand what emergencies are..............the little old lady who is confused..........the kids playing a hoax..........a drunk..........or?

Who knows.

Blue lights and sirens

Have you ever been a passenger in a Patrol Car dashing to some emergency?

I was today. Exhilarating. I felt like Moses as the traffic parted before us.

But then when we got to our destination I can only describe my feelings as sadness.

Sadness for what some people do to each other.

Pride too; that, for all its faults, for all its clumsiness, we have a society that attempts to protect some of the broken people, the vulnerable people. I watched a young copper patiently deal with those who are vulnerable and give them what help he could. He did it with compassion.

On the way back to 'The Nick' we stopped at a pedestrian crossing and watched as two carers ushered half a dozen of their wards over the road. Once these people would have been called Loonies, Mongols and the like. Most appeared to have Downs Syndrome. Society has moved on.

The last one waved in thanks as we waited. We waved back.

He cared.

We did too.

Out early

I was up at 4 am. I watched the dawn.

We went out to Fountains Abbey again. Early. On no, I hear you say. Not that bloody Abbey again.

Well no, not this time. We got there before it opened. It does so at 10. we were there at 9 am but that was deliberate.

For adjacent to the Abbey is the parkland and a lovely walk called the 'Seven Bridges Walk'

A couple of links to give you an idea; Here; a map, And here; some photos

The walk has everything. A lake, stream with bridges to walk over, a valley, woodland, a country lane and parkland. All in about three miles or so. And you can vary it.

We walked down the little valley from the lake, over the ornamental bridges through the wood and up past Plumpton Hall - oh, what a gloriously English name - with its vistas over towards and beyond Ripon. Then down to Studley Roger before turning into the park and wandering through that with all the deer wandering around finally returning to our car overlooking the lake.

And all this by 10.30 am - the clock on the photos is an hour out!.

So quiet. So peaceful. We were back before midday.





Some photos.

Now you didn't think I'd leave myself out did you?

Finally, a view down from the park towards the lake and the Pavilion.

A frightening mentality

The mob. Not the mafia mob but that unthinking mode that many of us seem to acquire when we subdue our individuality and replace it with the emotion of the crowd.

The Tabloids smell it and pick it up, fanning the flames of fear and suspicion. Don't get me wrong. I think the Tabloids have a place in our society. Sometimes they can do a good job in raising awareness on an issue and forcing the authorities to act by publicly embarrassing them.

But when they play to the mob it gets ugly and I get uncomfortable.

It's happening now.

John Venables? You'll know the name. His old name. His original name. Apparently people feel they NEED to know his new name. They do so because he was released on licence and has been recalled having been accused of something.

Does that mean we need to know about ALL the criminals who have been released and who break the terms of their release?

The man has been accused of something. It isn't proven. We don't even know exactly what it is.

Yet people bay for his name to be released for their protection.

I'll ask a question.

Do you really want to know where every offender who has been released lives? Do you?

You might get a shock. That neighbour you share a beer with occasionally might be an ex robber.

We have to trust the authorities to try to get it right. They won't always but if we scream for mob justice every time that they, seemingly, get it wrong then we lose all semblance of civilisation.

The broken end

That's what I, as a Call Handler with the Emergency Services will be dealing with.

The broken end of society.

The easy bit will be the physical breakages. RTCs, Road Traffic Collisions to you and me, being an obvious one.

But then there are the emotional breakages. The social breakages. And all the combinations therein.

I sat in last week with a young man. He was quite new. Lovely guy. The sort of young man a father would want his daughter to bring home. You get the idea don't you.

I listened while he took calls. It was great. I followed it all and was able to say to myself, 'I can do this'...........albeit a little slower.

He took a call from a guy who wanted to know when he was next up for bail.

'What is it in relation to?' , asked my companion after establishing the ID of the man.

'Oh, some (insert a crime here) or summat'

He didn't fucking know. Get that...........................hmmm...........actually, he didn't bloody well care. He sounded drugged or drunk and his patience was, shall we say, limited.

His crime list was very long. He got the info and my companion hung up. To start with we rolled our eyes and giggled. But then we talked about people like that. Compassion. That's the word. You get someone who cannot function other than by committing some crime or other. How sad. What a waste.

This man had sounded quite oldish when on the phone. He wasn't. What kind of life is he going to have?

I was gratified that my companion felt like me. Sorrow rather than the 'Throw them all to the wolves' attitude that we get from 'Tabloid Mentality'.

I couldn't operate if I felt that our society was broken. I certainly couldn't do this job. My view is this. Society isn't broken. It is an organism. A living thing. Just like you and me.

And take me..............OK, I know you don't want to but please bear with me.

I am imperfect. Just like society. I am touchy. I overreact. I am get too emotional at times. I can be pompous..............I get 'parent like'..........ask my family and anyone who knows me well.........'You're doing the dad'. I go into huffs. I am overweight. I have blood pressure. I am needy............I cannot understand why anyone would like me......but then I think everyone should!

Have I given up on myself?

Absolutely not.

In my heart of hearts I think I am wonderful.................another fault LOL.

And I think that of society too. It has its faults. It can be impersonal.........and all the rest you can read in the tabloids about.

But ask yourselves this.

Is there any period in the past that you would rather be in? Don't get romantic here. Get real.

Would you, for example, like to go back to the 1950's when crime was much lower? When respect for people was important. When discipline was respected.

.................but when cancer was a killer; when, if female, your best bet was to find a decent guy and have his kids; when it was deemed OK to have soldiers exposed to radiation; when we lived under a serious threat of nuclear conflict; when being gay was illegal................I could go on...........and on............and on.

Name your decade. Name your century.

And then read up on the history.

Being human means trying to make progress, trying to move forward. On the whole we manage to do that in my view.

That's why, again in my view, now is the best time to be alive.

It's also why I look forward to tomorrow; for that is likely to be better.

And more to the point yesterday is gone. I cannot change it. Tomorrow, I might just have some say.......even if it is merely in what I choose to eat LOL.

Oh for a change

It's been a long Winter hasn't it. You think it's about to leave the stage and back it sashays in defiance of its audience's wishes. Spring skulks in the wings.

No Spring doesn't skulk. Wrong word.

I went out into our garden yesterday and had a good look around. The first in months. My poor garden bravely wore its winter scars with pride.

I found some Snowdrops I didn't know we had. They were hiding and almost seemed to smile at me when I found them as though to say, 'Sh, don't tell Winter'.

So I didn't.

Crocus bulbs are pushing their way through with less discretion.

No Spring doesn't skulk. She forces her way in and will win.

From now on I will watch the hedgerows, especially the Hawthorn as they lose their Winter grey coats and take on what at first is almost imperceptible; a yellow-green veil. A hue so delicate that it can only be seen in a certain light before it deepens into something else.

I like to feel that I am the first one to see this secret show; this foretaste of all the vibrancy of Spring in full flow.

Superdoc

Granddaughter's imagination is developing all the time. She sat down and drew a Super Hero the other night; Superdoc Quite a good drawing too.

He had, amongst other things, a Super Sensitive Stethoscope that could hear people calling for help from far away.

She likes helping to prepare tea too. One evening, before her Mum arrived, she and Grandma were mixing up salad ingredients;

Grandma, 'We'd better not put any cucumber in Mum's. It upsets her tummy.'

Granddaughter, 'No Grandma. It gives her sloppy poos' She smiled as she said this.

Mum corrected that piece of information when she got back.

I think Granddaughter is developing into a bit of a wind up merchant.

I find it so fascinating watching a young personality grow as they morph into adulthood. That's a long way off but you see glimmers of what she may be like in years to come.

Eureka!

Sometimes in our lives we meet up with that seemingly immovable brick wall. An insurmountable problem appears and we end up halting in front of it and scratching our heads in frustration trying to examine all the alternatives but only finding that each one is no better than the original idea which we weren't sure about to start with.

Luckily I do not meet the unclimbable mountain too often. When I do I either stick with the 'best of the worst' choices or, if I've got the time, go away and let the thing sit in my mind without dwelling on it.

My novel, you know that thing I rarely talk about these days, provided me with such a challenge. I wouldn't call it 'Writer's Block'; I can always think of some bollocks or other to write about, more a 'which way do I go now?' sort of dilemma.

The novel is finished but there are aspects I'm unsure about. One has been picked up by a reviewer and I have been mulling and pondering on whether it does need dealing with, whether I can, whether any solution would solve it? You get the idea.

Then one night I was lying in bed and something in my mind stirred. I'm not sure whether it will work so it's not one of those definitive 'Eureka' moments but it might and if nothing else it has reinvigorated my interest in the thing.

I'll go back and read it from start to finish. It'll seem strange for I will be reading it almost as a stranger and that will help too.

I might just realise it is a load of rubbish.

Paprikash

We were chatting about food during a break today. It's a subject close to my heart; or should I say stomach. I ended up waxing lyrical about something I'd cooked yesterday. A Pork Paprikash, although any meat will do. I suppose you could even do a veggie version, it's that flexible.

One of the girls asked for the recipe I used.

'Of course' came my bold and flattered reply.

But when I sat down to write one out I realised I don't really use one.

Google 'Paprikash' with any meat in front of it, be it Pork, Chicken, Lamb or Beef and you'll get a variety of different takes on the basic recipe for each one. It is endless. About the only thing they have in common is Paprika. It's Hungarian in origin.

For all of us, it is one of our favourite dishes. I say 'it'. By that I mean 'My' Paprikash. I am the 'Master of the Paprikash' in our house. There are some dishes that Mrs AWB excels at, some that I do. This is one of mine.

It's a joy to make because I alter it slightly each time. I adjust and build on what I've learnt from previous creations.

So, let's start shall we.

Turn the music on. Quite loud.

The next ingredient is wine. Not for the dish. For the cook, silly. A good red wine to accompany the smells of the kitchen is a must.

Then comes the ritual of 'The Donning of the Pinny'. I cannot cook without my black and white checked pinny. It's all part of the act in a daft kind of way. Once it is on I am in 'Chef Mode'' all drama and focus. Mrs AWB keeps out of the way usually.

One of my strengths is that I am a patient cook; with the food that is, not interlopers into my kitchen. I am happy to faff and fanny on preparing complex things because it is a game to me. My wife hates that. She hasn't got the patience to trim the fattier meats or finely chop the myriad of stuff some dishes demand.

I digress. It was Pork on Sunday and I got a piece to chop up. It took an age because I took off as much fat and gristle as I could. Don't take enough off and you end up with a greasy dish and bits of squishy fat to chew. Take too much away and it can be dry if you're not careful.

So how much Pork?

As much as you need. The amount doesn't matter. I'll generally use a couple of pounds or so for the four of us. It can take me quite a while to trim the meat.

My reward is a good glug of wine after this onerous task.

Then mix some flour, Paprika and seasoning to roll the Pork pieces in. Again the amounts are not set in stone; usually a couple or three Tablespoons of flour and two or three dessert spoons of Paprika.

Seasoning? I go heavy on the pepper and sometimes add a touch of Chilli to taste.

Roll the Pork in it and fry to seal in batches. Then fling it into a casserole dish; I always use my trusty cast iron thingummyjig. One of those posh French affairs.

Chop up a couple of onions and fry them in the pan you used for the Pork. It'll take up any residue. Once they have softened and filled the kitchen with that lovely frying smell chop up some garlic....while the onions are on a low heat......and throw, with gay abandon of course, the garlic into the frying onions.

How much garlic? Again it is all down to whim. I used about six cloves yesterday.

By now I've sometimes started my second glass of wine.

Sometimes I'll add a chopped fresh chilli.

It is now that I'll add whatever vegetables are going in. Mushrooms are good. Peas too. Yesterday it was green beans. In they went to be tossed around in that 'Wobbling Buttock' shimmy you have to adopt when shaking the frying pan to mix stuff without using a wooden spoon.

I tell a lie. I use a Skillet. If I used a frying pan I'd spill half the bloody stuff.

All this gets tipped into the Casserole dish. I add some stock, a pint or so but it doesn't really matter about the exact amount. Occasionally I will squeeze some tomato puree in. That largely depends on whether I'm in a tube squeezing mood. It does help balance the heat of the chilli. If I've not added chilli I don't add the puree. By now I've dragged the casserole onto the gas ring I had used for frying and bring the mixture to the boil.

Always, but always, a load of chopped parsley. Finely chopped. I generally shove a load into one of those whizzy things with a bit of water and pour it in after a couple of whizzes. You could just chop it with a big knife or cleaver but I fancied pratting about with a gadget yesterday. The parsley lightens the earthy flavour of the Paprika.

I usually add the soured cream at this point although yesterday it went in later...............I'd forgotten and was wondering why it was so dark in colour when 'ping' I realised.

A medium sized carton will do but, again, it depends on what you want. You don't even have to use it. I've seen recipes without.

On occasion I've used some ordinary cream in addition.

Put the lid on the Casserole and shove it in a preheated oven; 170 ish or so will do and leave for as long as you want. Couple of hours will do.

And there you have it.

Basically you can make it up as you go along and depending on what you have bought.

You're supposed to have it with rice but we like it with mash and 'Spaghetti Greens'; very finely sliced greens or Savoy cabbage which go very well with the rich sauce.