I chose not to stage a pretty picture for this book review. I chose to show you how it is, in its true state.
Raw and a little unpolished in places, I fell in love with its simple message and the unapologetic delivery of some things we may not be ready to hear, let alone accept. There are no airs and graces, no desire to preach and no ulterior motive.
Written in 2015, it’s Author, lacked the confidence and money to pursue this self publishing dream. It is not easy to go against the grain in life, particularly when you may be ridiculed . Judith assures us that she did not write this book. It was dictated to her, by what some would refer to as ‘Spirits’ or ‘Angels’. Rather than bring you messages from beyond the grave, this book debunks many fast held beliefs including many religious ones. For it is given as a message about what we really are doing here on Earth.
If you believe this will be ‘airy fairy’ and something that tells you something comforting- you will be wrong. There are parts harder to swallow than a cactus, particularly when it questioning the readers actions and thought processes. Whilst holding them accountable in some way for where they are now.
This book does not hold your hand while you cross the road. It does not stand in the middle with a lollipop stick checking it is safe for you. It tells you the way it is and leaves you to DO something (hopefully) about it. You can be closed minded and cynical about many things in life, but I promise you that you will take something from this book.
This book will not tell you how to speak to dead people, predict the future or look for ‘signs’. It will shake you up and bollock you. It is penned to make you question your existence and that of everything around, whilst also providing information that can enrich us, if we get past the bullshit and focus on the real objectives.
It advises that the World we know is a million miles away from what was intended, and how greed and materialism, politics and hate will kill us all eventually if we do not turn the tide. However, it is not a doom and gloom novel. It is not casting us into damnation, merely asking us to re-asses our presence here and the mark we leave on both the Earth and minds of those who come into contact with us. It is greater than a nudge but just short of a push. It demands to be noticed. It commands you to listen, and to remove the blinkers.
This is a book about destiny and the fulfilment of a path pre-arranged for us. Deviation from the path will bring us knowledge, experience, pain and joy, but the end result will be the same. Our purpose here should be fulfilled, and you will be told what happens when it isn’t.
From the physical manifestation of mental pain, and fear and bitterness stunting our spiritual growth, if we deny or dismiss what is pre ordained we will be shown over and over until we finally and humbly learn.
It tells us why we have inexplicable bonds with some people, and how we sometimes ‘just know’ things, even when we are told it is ludicrous. It challenges us to accept that we are far more than a body, and that we have a lot to learn in terms of what actually happens to our ‘Soul’ when we ‘die’ on Earth.
There are many things within its pages that are even more relevant in today’s shitstorm. Natural disasters, plagues, greedy politicians and media control. It doesn’t make it any easier in parts to carry on reading, but something urges you on, willing you to finish, because it really is a revelation and an eye opener.
If you have ever questioned why you are here, and what your purpose is, then read something a little different from the mainstream. If a belief system that has been drilled into you, has never resonated, read this book.
Humble, beautiful, wrenching and enlightening. Its teachings will not leave you as they found you. And that is entirely its purpose. Click here to view- The True Meaning of Life- Judith Hindle
Kate Garraway, still, amongst others, waiting for a loved one to return from hospital. I have followed that horrible journey, hoping for the best for her and everyone else in the same position.
However, I cannot help but notice, that suddenly, the gutter press do not comment on what she is wearing, her hair, her makeup, her figure, who her previous sexual partners were or how sexy she looks…it’s almost as though…I dunno…..perhaps they KNOW it isn’t appropriate or relevant…Never was in the first place.
There is a part of me that feels i shouldn’t say this, that i should not use someone’s plight to make a very valid point, but that just goes to show how many of us are taught that we should keep our mouths shut, because it really is not becoming.
While there are still so many, that perceive our worth to be based on sexual attractiveness or availability, I despair for the future generations. I despair for my clever and witty Nieces, who despite being brought up in a home that values characteristics over appearance, will grow up in a vacuous World.
Fingers crossed Kate’s Husband comes home safe and well. Fingers crossed she isn’t judged entirely on her appearance when he does.
Big loves to her. Big loves to all of them
If a loved one wanted to apply for their licence to learn this year then you may have noticed that the DVLA suspended applications for Provisional Licences. Covid 19 meant that they reduced to only essential services. Only critical workers could apply for their licence to learn.
After trying for several weeks I finally managed to get Manchild 2’s licence applied for yesterday. However, you must bear in mind that if the DVLA become overwhelmed again at any point, this is one of the first services they will drop. I really wanted to be able to give my Son his Provisional and a block booking of lessons for his 17th Birthday, so if you want to do this for someone as gift it is probably wise to apply while you can.
The live link DVLA Apply for Provisional Licence
It costs £34. You can apply for your licence from 15 years and 9 months old, as you are able to learn to ride a scooter from 16.
I have spoken to our preferred choice of instructor and he believes they will be up and running again at the end of July. You cannot book a lesson until you have a provisional. Some instructors have waiting lists. Our plan now is for Manchild 2 to study for his theory test in the meantime, which, while he is off college, is great to occupy him. Theory tests must be passed before the practical examination can be taken.
Theory tests are still currently suspended,but things are changing rapidly. If you are classed as a critical worker you can still apply to sit your theory test. For everyone else, if you have your provisional you can be ready to book a theory test as soon as possible once they re-open to everyone.
If you purchase any educational resources make sure they are up to date. We got the following for Manchild 2: Click the pink writing to view.
Traffic Signs Book
Theory Test Handbook
There are also some online mock tests you can take for hazard perception, so we will be using those.
Remember that you cannot take a member of your household out for driving lessons yourself unless they have a provisional licence, are correctly insured, and your car is sporting an L Plate.
Learning to drive opens far more opportunities to you, so please do not feel that you have missed the boat if you are no longer the fresh faced 17 year old. A good instructor will put you at ease.
Sometimes, we are hungry, we know we want something, but we don’t know what we want. So we dither in the cupboards, umming and ahhing, irritiating others with our huffs and puffs. Somehow under the illusion that when we open the cupboard for the 18th time, something will have magically appeared, or inspiration will sucker punch us.
It is often said at these times, that you are simply thirsty. So ideally, get a glass of water down you and see if that tides you over.
During pregnancy, I was told that the things you craved were the things you and the baby needed for the nutrients that you were lacking. It was in fact, perfectly natural for the ‘crave levels’ to be quite extreme. Given there were 2 or more of you wanting those nutrients now, causing more deficiencies and more need.
Recently, I was having a chat with Manchild 2, about nutrition and satiety. He seems focussed on calorie intake right now, and whilst I agree its a good marker, the ‘make-up’ of those calories is also important. Using the information on the white and brown bread we had at home, I showed him how they were very much on a par calorie wise, but wholemeal bread was more filling because of the fibre content. We talked about how less of its carbohydrates converted to sugar, making it a wiser choice for anyone that is more backed up than my hairdressers waiting list, or anyone wanting to shift bit of timber.
As with anything, I tend to rather over explain these things to my Son, which I am sure is an irritant. However, I have noticed that he makes judgements based on far more than calories now, and makes wiser choices. Parenting means providing your child with tools for life. This is one of them.
So, I finally get to my point. Today, my Hay fever is horrendous. I am craving soup. Its frigging boiling out there, i don’t want to stand over a stove, but I want Ghostbusters Soup- Recipe Here
So i flicks over to my Ghostbuster Soup recipe I posted a few weeks ago. And that was also a high hay fever day. My little brain starts to crunch information. IS there something in that soup, that my body is craving, because of hay fever?
Is that even possible?
So, I made the soup, and whilst it cooled a little, I looked into the ingredients and their properties for the first time. I am pretty impressed with my internal Doctor!
This soup contains,
Peas– A great source of Beta Carotine. Our bodies convert this into Vitamin A. Vitamin A soothes the mucous membranes preventing irritation and boosts the immune system.
Coconut Milk– A well researched Anti Inflammatory, with lots of Medium Chain Tryglycerides and a dairy free alternative. ( Dairy is believed to cause more mucus production)
Mint– Soothes congestion and blocked sinus.
Hot Liquid– Helps with decongestion. Encouraging the nose or eyes to ‘run’ more flushes out any pollen there.
So, not only do I get to eat this fit soup. It may actually be medicinal!
So perhaps, when we crave something, we should try to understand that the body is telling us what it needs. It is possible, that we get those signals,and interpret them into a meal that we ‘know’, and not always a healthy option! Maybe we should be thinking on a deeper level, working out what the meal we crave contains nutritionally, and then finding something to eat that contains that.
And maybe, when we are doing the fridge and cupboard hunt, and the huffing and puffing, we simply have not learned to tune in to what our body is telling us. But- cravings and grazing urges may be an entirely different thing.
For me personally, I am now intrigued by this, and given that a curious mind must pursue some answers, I have contacted a local Integrative Health Specialist. We will be coming back to you with something more substantial than my brain shooting off on mad tangents. Plus, they have letters after their name, which I don’t, so that makes them far more qualified than me.
Have i just imagined the whole thing? Or could it be time to listen to the internal Doctor? Wine and Cheese? Yes. I will have 2 prescriptions please.
Do any of you get any strange cravings?
My Uncle David had an allotment when I was a child. I remember the smell of freshly dug earth crawling into my nose, and the few seconds where I would check to see if we had chopped any worms as we dug. I was always told that if a worm was chopped in half, that it would simply become 2 worms, and they would each wiggle away.
I would without hesitation, pick up worms, and be both enchanted and disgusted with the feel of them moving on my grubby palms. I miss that girl sometimes, although I doubt my little Brother misses me flinging worms at him.
Whenever we harvested something, which was mainly vegetables, they would be carried in buckets or wrapped in newspaper and taken over the road to my Grandparents. There, in the kitchen sink that so many of us bathed in as a baby, we would wash away the earthy clods and scrub at the skins with a brush until they resembled something like the ones at the local Greengrocers.
Our bounty, our reward.
We did of course, only grow things that the UK climate allowed for, so we had whatever was indigenous, in season, and suitable for the little patch that Uncle David tended. Like Arthur Fowler, but less of the nicking the Christmas Club money and less nervous breakdown.
Whatever our treasures were, they were soon inside our bellies, in the glorious broths, stews and pies whose fragrance permeated the kitchen, and our hearts.
We have all of this still readily available to us, although no longer via our family allotment. We have all this, and more than we could ever have imagined a short while ago. I suspect that I, along with many of you, lack appreciation for the ease at which out of season fruits and vegetables are still in our kitchens. I doubt we ever marvel that there is a banana in the fruit bowl, despite the fact that it has travelled thousands of miles to be devoured by us.
The Western world has become accustomed, through years of abundance, to everything available to us, all year, in some form. If it isn’t fresh, it is frozen, tinned or dried. Our only consideration is what to do with it, as our culinary skills expand into an ever-increasing plethora of possibility. Yet our beginnings are becoming lost. We have lost our ability to marvel at how lucky we are to get a mango. A mango! So sweet and succulent and so exotic. We only need to decide the form in which we shall purchase it.
My fruit bowl consists of Bananas and Apples currently ( and oddly-some loose change). A quick check in my cupboard found tinned Peaches, Mandarins, Red Grapefruit, Pineapple rings and Mango puree. The freezer brought forth Blueberries, Cherries, Mango chunks and Pineapple pieces. Other than the cost to purchase them, I had given no thought to the fact that they had come from Swaziland, India, Costa Rica, Turkey and The Philippines. The Braeburns were from Kent. 257 miles away from where I purchased them. 257 miles is now local.
When did I stop realising how lucky I am? When it became so normal, that it was no longer a consideration. Gratitude smothered by indifference, delight by expectancy.
So, whether I am hankering after a simpler time, or merely trying to prove a point, I have decided to concentrate on some recipes that celebrate our abundance of UK produce. And whilst my veg box delivery next week may not reflect that, ( it’s a lucky dip and my only current form of excitement) I certainly will not be going out of my way to buy any fruit or vegetables that are not produced in the UK. I need to touch base, with the dark clods of earth, and worms, of my Motherland. Here is a great book to start with A Year of Recipes in Order of Season
Appreciation will return for both our own treasures, and those exotic ones, if I simply stop to think about how amazing it is to have this choice available to me. Go and get your head in your cupboards, go and look. Let me know in the comments where your food is from, and promise me that when you serve it or eat it, you will say
“Isn’t it amazing that this has come all the way from ..….., aren’t we lucky”
And that you will mean it.
The Kitchen is often referred to as the heart of the home, its regular, steady beat nourishing the inhabitants and feeding their souls.
Our Kitchen is very small, 2 adults cannot comfortably pass by or work in it together, but at a squeeze my five year old Nephew can stand on a chair alongside me, excitement obvious, as I let him mix things to his heart’s content, and ruffle his wiry hair. My Mamma brought some cookie cutters for him a few weeks ago, and when lockdown is over, I will delight in his delight, as he makes Koala shaped cookies and mini star pizzas.
My Niece’s, with nervous supervision, can stand together, for the cutting of things, or the stirring of hot things on the stove.
Tasks that are allowed with age, experience, and a modicum of common sense.
Manchild Two still lives at home, and whilst he can knock up a thing or two, he hasn’t inherited my fascination with creating food, and sees it more as a function. Left to his own devices he will live on jam butties, and after all, who could blame him? But I do insist upon dragging him in to observe or assist when I know something is simple and quick and will be of use to him in the days where I am not at home. All things well, by the time he leaves home, he will have a decent repertoire and his jam butty skills will be legendary. He may even have progressed to toast.
Manchild the First, the Original, the Best, or whatever other names he uses to tease Manchild Two with, has his own place. He is often found hovering in the entrance to our Kitchen because I am often there, and this becomes the manner in which we have a good catch up, as I try to show him how to stretch his small food budget into something tasty and filling, so he can worry about the gas and electric meter instead.
Food is part of life’s journey, the stages that we go through as we learn about food, often entwined with life’s milestones, intrinsically linked with our emotions.
For some, there have been no days sitting on the worktop in their Grandparent’s kitchen, watching Nanna make her pastry, or watching Grandad make his Manchester Tart.
I would gaze in fascination as Nanna would deftly spin the pie dish, using a ceramic handled knife to trim the excess pastry from the edges. Like a Circus performer she span with one hand and trimmed with the other, something she no doubt saw her own Mother or Grandmother do.
It made a particular noise as the knife came into contact with the dish. A sound that I cannot type to describe, but one that lingers in my memory, and always will. I believe my love was born here, as my legs swung atop the units and we chattered. Eventually, I too got to stand on the chair next to her at the worktop, with an adult’s apron tucked up to fit me.
I am by no means an exceptional cook, and far from a professional. What I am is someone who can see potential in the most basic of things, and give it some love, so that it thrives, and becomes something even better.
So whilst you may not find recipes or ideas here, that are Rocket Science, you will find a good, honest love of making the most from what you have, and the intention to make you feel the love too.
You are all welcome in my Kitchen.
Dedicated to my amazing Grandparents, without whom my love may never have sparked.
Wilfred and Jennie, loved beyond measure.