Tea Stains and Daisy Chains: July 2014

31 day blog challenge

31 Day Blog Challenge- Day 4

15:07

Day 4: Best childhood memory

I don't want to boast, but my childhood was pretty awesome, so I'm struggling to label just one memory as 'the best'. I think I'm just going to have to go with a list of some of the things I remember from my family camping holidays in France, which were literally the BEST SUMMERS EVER.

Going to this park en route to a campsite- it was absolutely boiling and there was one of those big round swings for us to play on. But what made it memorable was the fact that there was music playing out of speakers hidden among the plants, which I remember thinking was the coolest thing ever. (I found out years later that we'd stopped because our car had broken down, so my parents were pretty stressed....My brother and I were completely oblivious and had a great time!)

Staying at pretty French B&Bs overnight to split up the journey to a campsite. One I can particularly remember was run by an English couple who had been living in France for years and had brought their children up there. They could all speak fluent French, which I remember being very jealous about. One evening, my brother and I got our bikes and cycled through the French countryside with the children. We ended up next to a field full of hay-bales, which we climbed and sat on. We also went into a woods and climbed a few trees. I remember wishing that I lived in France.

At another B&B I had the best hot chocolate I have ever tasted.

Wandering around French markets and buying hot chicken, potatoes and bread for lunch. One time, it was pouring with rain so we sat in the car with our food, all cosy and dry.

Going to 'Fish Suppers' and 'Hog Roasts'. Everyone sat on long benches together and just enjoyed fresh fish (or hog). I had my first tuna steak at one of these suppers. Then there were crepes for dessert. In my memory, all the other people were locals, but there may have been some tourists there too!

Cycling to the little campsite shop and asking for "deux baguettes, s'il vous plait" or "deux pain au chocolat et deux croissants, merci". Then I'd cycle back to the tent with the baguettes sticking out of my rucksack.

Staying up late in the tent playing Rummikub and using squares of Milka chocolate instead of money.

Endless hours playing on the beach and in the sea. Feeling very windswept and outdoorsy.

Brittany 2003- Playing on the beach

2005- Making a friend on the beach

2006- Looking very tanned and pensive on the beach, wearing a home-made tie-dyed top and Mini Boden shorts

2007- Just bought a baguette! Wearing my favourite knee-length shorts and a Mini Boden jumper

*CHEESE ALERT*
I hope that one day I'll be able to take my children on such amazing holidays so that they can make memories like these!

Harriet x

31 day blog challenge

31 Day Blog Challenge- Day 3

18:03

31 day blog challenge

31 Day Blog Challenge- Day 2

17:21

31 day blog challenge

31 Day Blog Challenge- Day 1

11:12

31 day blog challenge

31 Day Blog Challenge

13:14

I wrote a story :)

17:30

bbc top 100 books

The BBC Top 100 Books- The Wasp Factory

14:35

So I may or may not have taken a slight detour on the "whale-athon" (as nicely put by someone on Twitter) to sneak in a bit of Iain Banks. As I was struggling a little (to say the least) with Moby-Dick, I was planning on interspersing it with a bit of The Wasp Factory, but I quickly abandoned this idea when I remembered that I just can't resist a bit of gothic. So now I'm back to square one with Moby-Dick, only this time I haven't read it for a couple of days...But I refuse to be defeated by a whale!!

Ever since I studied Mary Shelley's Frankenstein at school, I have been a huge gothic fan. Perhaps this is strange, because I absolutely hate horror films and I'm fairly squeamish, but to be honest, gothic horror is something else entirely. If done well, as it is in The Wasp Factory, I think the reader experiences something more awful than when watching a film, as they process the descriptions and develop them into the images or ideas that scare them personally. It's often our imaginations and our own minds that frighten us the most. I think the fact a few words on a page can do this shows the immense power of the written word.

The Wasp Factory is told from the point of view of sixteen year-old Frank Cauldhame, our first person narrator. I'm not going to give away much of the story line because I want you to find out for yourself, but just by reading the blurb, we discover that Frank has killed three people. It also becomes clear that he has had some sort of "unfortunate accident", although he keeps this frustratingly hidden for the majority of the book, only giving us tantalizing hints in passing. He also gradually unveils the true nature of the Wasp Factory itself, as up to a certain point, we are unable to fully visualise this strange contraption. As well as this, although we find out early on that Frank has a brother who has gone insane, we're left wondering what on earth happened to him to cause this madness. We know it must be pretty awful, but I'm not sure we're quite prepared for the truth.

Essentially, throughout the novel we are presented with a number of incredibly intriguing (yet painfully unanswered) questions about Frank and the people around him. Fortunately, just before the tension gets too unbearable, Banks reveals the truth, often in a way that will make you want to avert your eyes, but simultaneously remain glued to each word on the page. You'll find you can't put it down, just in case the next sentence unveils something huge.

But in amongst all this, what if you're missing something? Something really fundamental?You forgot to ask the most important question...

I shall say no more, otherwise the experience will be ruined. Just read it. Now!

Harriet x

P.S. I'm back to battling on with Moby-Dick- The whales shall not defeat me!

1984

"A trip to the theatre with Dad"

12:58

If you'd like to read my brief review of the production of 1984 without hearing my life's story in the process, please feel free to skip down to the three posters!

When it comes to giving birthday presents, my dad is one of a kind: the best kind. Simply wrapping up a box of chocolates and handing it over with a card doesn't quite cut it with him (although I'd be more than happy with a box of chocolates, wrapped or unwrapped!). Instead, he likes to come up with something a little more imaginative. This year, as well as sending me out into the garden shed to find two vintage-style wooden crates for my room, he also presented me with a rather tatty-looking brown envelope. Inside I found one of his customary dad-style vouchers:

Being the theatre/1984/dystopian literature fan that I am, this was a near-perfect gift for me. He did, however, have one slight "confession" to make, in that he hadn't actually bought the tickets yet; he just planned to get them last-minute on the day... But, still armed with the belief that my dad can do pretty much anything, I wouldn't put it past him to get us into a sold-out show, so this was hardly a cause for concern!

On the day of the performance, my map reading skills were put to the test as I had to make my way from King's Cross St Pancras to Russel Square, where I was to meet my dad from work. Despite the fairly simple route, I felt like a proper tourist as I stood frowning at my map in the middle of the busy pavement, obliviously holding up the stream of weary commuters. After a bit of map-twisting and turning round on the spot to get things in the right direction, I managed to locate Russel Square and (more importantly) its café. I must admit, I felt rather pleased with myself as I sat outside the busy café reading Moby-Dick and waiting for my dad to enter the Square to see the embodiment of culture and sophistication that was his daughter.

As promised, we went to a little Italian (although not "dad's special Italian restaurant", as this was closed) for dinner. My dad had tried to sell it to me by telling me that we would be served by a "Big Momma" and cooked for by a man who was "probably a cousin". This is the kind of family-run place that he adores, where the food is authentically Italian and the Peroni is served in a plastic beaker. Granted, his spaghetti bolognaise was delicious and my (slightly less traditional) chicken cheese burger really hit the spot.

During the meal, I discovered (to my outrage) that my dad had never actually read 1984. In a hasty attempt to make up for his failings, I made him read this article I wrote, which includes a brief summary/review of the text. I also promised to find him my A-Level English coursework about it when we got home, which I'm sure thrilled him immensely...

After having cleansed our palettes with some real Italian ice-cream, we set off in search of the Playhouse Theatre. Despite a few "where are we?" moments (we were about 100 metres from Trafalgar Square...), we knew we'd found it when we saw a building plastered in posters (the third one being my personal favourite):

Miraculously (yet somewhat unsurprisingly) my dad had managed to get us tickets in the centre of the second row. While at the cinema, being so close can be disorientating, at the theatre it seemed to make me feel all the more involved and I loved seeing the actors only a few metres away. Upon entry, we'd been told that there was no interval and no re-admittance once the performance had started, which put me slightly on edge before the lights had even gone down.

Being quite a complex book, I was interested to see how Robert Icke and Duncan Macmillan were going to portray the story in a way that would put across Orwell's finer details, yet would be possible to follow. Although a powerful and thought-provoking play on its own, I would personally have struggled to appreciate all of it if I hadn't read the book. Despite having studied it extensively only a year ago, there were still moments in which I found myself a little lost. For example, the story itself is framed by a modern day book group meeting, in which they are discussing Winston Smith's diary. Although this historical stance is hinted at in Orwell's Appendix, this is a different, yet effective, way of presenting the dystopian tale.

Somewhat confusingly, the play is full of repeated scenes and phrases, which managed to unnerve the audience, as well as create the chilling atmosphere required. The casting was extremely true to the novel, with the characters of Parsons and O'Brien being almost exact replicas of the images I'd formed when reading the book. In the same way, the set design was ingenious, especially the way in which the audience watched Winston and Julia's 'secret' meetings in the antique shop on a big screen while they acted off-stage. This technique succeeded to embody the infamous phrase, "Big Brother is watching you" and saw that the tension and drama exploded into the audience at the dreaded words "You are the dead". I think my mouth actually dropped open in astonishment, even though I had known it was coming. This climatic moment really captured the essence of the novel and is something that I could watch over and over again.

In "the place where there is no darkness", the set was equally as effective, with the luminescent whiteness contrasting horrifically with the blood, causing one engrossed audience member to cry out in shock. Through the excellent use of lighting, sound effects and costume, everyone in the room felt part of Winston's mental and physical experience, to an extent that cannot quite be achieved in a novel.

As well as blood and horror, the play also contained scenes of almost violent sexual passion between Winston and Julia. Although done well, perhaps without the background knowledge of the book, their relationship and consequential commitment to the 'Brotherhood' may have seemed a little rushed. However, to portray such complex ideas about love, trust, freedom and manipulation in only 101 minutes, is no mean feat.

Almost before I knew it, the actors were receiving their well-deserved applause and the lights were coming on again. As I was ushered out of the theatre, I was still reeling from everything I'd seen and felt in great need of a lengthy discussion about the play! Cleverly, the final appearance of the book-group planted in our minds some terrifying questions about our own society, meaning that it was hard not to leave feeling just a little stunned.

Have you seen the play? Read the book? I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave a comment below!

Harriet x

What have I been writing recently?

17:00

The yummiest iced buns you ever did see (or rather taste)

10:21

Despite my little bio thing claiming that I like to bake, you are yet to see any evidence of this allusive hobby, so I thought I'd better do something about this great travesty.

Have you ever had an iced bun from a bakery, such as one that rhymes with Timmons? If you have, then you'll probably agree with me when I say that although they're rather scrummy, they tend to be a little dry, especially around the edges. Well, fret no more: the solution comes in the form of a recipe for the most delicious iced buns, which I have adapted slightly from Paul Hollywood's Iced fingers recipe.

They take a couple of hours to prepare, as you have to leave the dough to prove, but you can get on with something else while this happens, so you're actually only baking for about half an hour. It's probably best to make these the day you intend to eat them, because then they're lovely and fresh (although they're still more than fine the next day).

Ingredients for the dough:

500g strong white flour, sieved
50g caster sugar
40g unsalted butter, softened (either be really prepared and take it out the fridge well in advance, or just do what I do and microwave it for 10 seconds at a time until it's soft enough)
2 eggs (be good and use free-range)
2 x 7g sachets instant yeast
150ml warm milk (microwave for about 60 seconds)
140ml water

Ingredients for icing and decorating:

200g icing sugar
5 teaspoons cold water
Glacé cherries (optional)
Sprinkles of your choice (optional)

Making the buns:

Put all your ingredients for the dough into a large bowl, remembering to sieve the flour, but keep back roughly a quarter of the water. Make sure your hands are clean, then roll up your sleeves and stir the mixture using your hands, before adding the remaining water. I found that my dough was very very sticky, so it was difficult to deal with at this stage. Nevertheless, try to knead it in the bowl for a few minutes, perhaps adding a little flour to make it a bit easier.
Wipe down the surface, dry it and then sprinkle some flour over it. (Make sure you're still using the strong white flour when you do this). Now you have to knead the dough for about 10 minutes, until it is smooth and looks a little more dough-like. Because mine was so sticky, I had to add a lot of flour as I went along, but they still turned out well so this didn't seem to matter. Once nice and stretchy, place your dough back in the bowl and cover it with a damp tea towel. Then, leave it to rise in a warm room for 1 hour. I put an electric heater in the utility room and shut the door, which seemed to work well, but you could also stick it in the airing cupboard, or in a small room with a radiator.
After an hour is up, take your risen dough and divide it into about 12 balls. If you want finger buns, elongate them, but if you want round ones, then just shape them a little.
Grease a baking tray and place the buns on top, making sure you leave enough room for the dough to grow a bit more. Now put them back in the warm room for 40 minutes. Go and pre-heat your oven to 220C (if you're using a fan oven then you might want to use a lower temperature, or just bake them for a shorter period).
After 40 minutes they should now have finished all their rising, so you're ready to bake! Place them in your pre-heated oven for 10 minutes. Personally, I'd advise setting the timer to 5 or 6 minutes then checking them, as after 7 minutes at 220C in a fan oven mine were rather browned!
While they're cooking, you could quickly make the icing. Just sieve the icing sugar into a bowl, add the water and mix until you have a thick paste.
Once the buns are lightly golden, remove them from the oven and set them on a cooling rack. Although it's tempting to ice them straight away, you must wait, as the icing will run if the buns are still warm.
When they are completely cool, take a palette knife (or just an ordinary knife) and smooth a blob of icing over the top to create an effect that pleases you. Decorate with glacé cherries, sprinkles, or just leave them nice and simple.
Finally, stick the kettle on and invite your family and friends to come and marvel at your culinary skills!

So there you have it, a plate of AMAZING iced buns, perfect for a get-together or a treat with your afternoon cuppa.

Happy baking!

Harriet x

bbc top 100 books

The BBC Top 100 Books- The Catcher in the Rye

14:29

This book was not what I expected, despite the fact that I'm not entirely sure what I did expect. I think, for some reason, I'd imagined that it was set earlier than it was and that it would be written in a more formal style. So when, by the end of the first sentence, the narrator had already said, "all that crap", I was rather pleased.

The Catcher in the Rye is in fact set in America in the 1950s and is told from the perspective of a boy called Holden Caulfield. On the first page, you find out that he is currently in some sort of mental institute (we assume), where he has come to "take it easy". The rest of the book is him recounting to us what happened to him the year before, when he was sixteen and had just been kicked out of prep school for the fourth time.

The things he tells us are fairly unremarkable in themselves, but it's the way in which he tells them and the way his mind seems to work that are the fascinating parts. Despite the fact that Holden comes across as fairly peculiar, I found myself (along with many others, I hope) being able to identify with him, as well as agreeing with some of the seemingly strange and unrelated things that he says. I really loved the way that the narrative so cleverly shows how his thoughts drift from one thing to another in a way that at first seems quite bizarre, but is actually very realistic.

I also like how insightful Holden is as a narrator. He seems to have this obsession with blaming everything bad on what he calls "phoniness", which he sees in most people around him, especially adults. This "phoniness" is actually a rather ingenious description for situations and individuals that are superficial, shallow and hypocritical.

Although he's judgmental and tiresome in that he uses the same phrases over and over again, I found myself quite drawn to this odd sixteen year-old boy, who seems to be isolated from the world around him.

In amongst all the weird and wonderful things that Holden says, my favourite was his description of his little sister Phoebe as "roller-skate skinny". I can't really explain how, but I knew exactly what he meant.

I'd love to know what you thought of Holden, as he really is a very intriguing character and this was a very intriguing book!

Next up is Moby-Dick by Herman Melville.

Harriet x

bbc top 100 books

The BBC Top 100 Books- Birdsong

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