Rosamundi's ramblings

I went into Selfridges Foodhall today, on a Quest.

Totally disorientated, and slightly panicky, I accosted a youth in Selfridges uniform, working on the premise that if he worked there, he might know useful things, like where to find stuff.

“Can you tell me where the mace is, please?”

Please note that I was using “mace” in the sense of

mace n. An aromatic spice made from the dried, waxy, scarlet or yellowish covering that partly encloses the kernel of the nutmeg.

[Middle English, from Old French, from Medieval Latin macis, alteration of Latin macir, fragrant ailanthus resin, from Greek makir.]

However, judging from the panicked look on his face, I think he thought I was using it in the sense of

Mace Trademark. a nonlethal spray containing purified tear gas and chemical solvents that temporarily incapacitate a person mainly by causing eye and skin irritations: used esp. as a means of subduing rioters.

Erm, no. It’s a food hall. Why would I be looking for tear gas in a food hall, you silly boy? I know it was a bit crowded in there, but that’s why we have elbows.

So I went to Waitrose, who have staff that do indeed know things, and do not start looking around for security guards when you walk in and ask perfectly innocent cuisine-related questions, and walked out with exactly what I was after, and most of the ingredients for dessert as well, as a bonus.

I know it was early, and everyone switches their brain off between Christmas and New Year, but as I was standing on the platform this morning, I overheard this question:

“Is that a train, yeah?”

Note she said “a” train, not “the” train, which would be a reasonable question to ask – westbound Central Line trains can end up in any one of several destinations, occasionally changing their mind halfway through the journey.

It’s a big white thing, slidy red doors, runs on rails. I’m fairly sure it’s a train, rather than, for instance, the White Witch’s sledge, or Cinderella’s glass coach.

And another thing. Given that most places have sales to get rid of old stock to make way for new, is it just me that was disturbed to learn that Yo! Sushi is having a sale?

Mmm, nice bed. Cosy.

Not quite sure what happened, but I overslept, and woke to the dulcet tones of the man on Radio 4 saying “it’s ten past eight.” This is not good. Ten past seven is good. Ten past seven means I make it to work on time. Ten past eight is bad and wrong because it means I get to work an hour late.

Never mind “Oh God, come to my aid, oh Lord, make haste to help me,” I went from horizontal to vertical in about 0.001 of a second, screaming all the way. It was rather like that opening scene in Four Weddings and a Funeral, but possibly with marginally less bad language.

Into shower, coffee (incidentally, I am indebted to the Rosaparents for buying me ground coffee for Christmas, or that just wouldn’t have happened), dressed, swap life’s essentials from bag I took away with me to normal handbag, Durham Light Infantry marching pace down to the station.

Get to station.

Travel card did not make it from bag to bag, and is, in fact, still back at Rosamundi Towers, and it cost eight pounds to buy a ticket.

And, of course, the queue is longer than a very long thing and moving like a geriatric tortoise with three legs.

Oh, and there’s severe delays on the Central Line, isn’t that nice? The Central Line is, de nature, the line I take to get to work.

[Insert Four Weddings and a Funeral interlude].

Get on other Tube line, half expecting it to catch fire or derail or just break.

Make it to work without further incident, whereupon I discover that my work security passes did not make it from bag to bag, either, and are, in fact, still back at Rosamundi Towers, keeping my travel card company.

Nice receptionist issues me temporary pass, and I finally make it to my desk, precisely one hour late.

I have just spent the best part of 10 minutes poking around on the TFL website, and completely failed to find out if I can claim back the £8 I’ve just spent. I shall harass a member of staff tomorrow.

Spotted on my daily constitutional as I ventured forth to acquire my contribution to Christmas dinner – assorted bars of very posh chocolate.

He’s a Pyrenean Mountain Dog, or Great Pyrenees for the Americans reading this, and had, according to a shocked passerby, “not moved since we came past an hour ago!”

I got tagged by Venite Adoremus a while ago, but have never been at a computer with access to my flicker account*, and with my brain in gear, since.

Whilst I can’t promise that my brain is in gear, here goes:

Post a picture on your own blog of 3 of your most special and beautiful rosaries and tell us why they are special to you. Then pass it through to three of your fellow bloggers who will pick their three rosaries and so on. And maybe it will be a nice gesture to pray a special intention for the three persons you “gave” the rosary to the next time you pray a rosary .

1. This is my favourite.

I’m not sure other people regard it with quite such affection, however, because it’s musical. It’s haematite and sterling silver, and the beads chime against each other as you pray. I quite like the noise it makes – we are an incarnational people, after all, and all our senses should be engaged as we worship, but I’m never sure if, when I’m praying in a group, the other people are silently thinking “shutupshutupshutup, hail Mary full of grace, please make the noise stop!” so I tend to only use it in my private devotions. The Pater beds, crucifix and centre medal all have roses on them, and, in case you hadn’t guessed, I love roses. The rose is also an ancient symbol of Our Lady.

It’s special for a few reasons – it’s the first one I designed and made myself. It’s haematite, a type of iron ore that polishes to a beautiful, shiny dark grey, and is my favourite semi-precious stone. My father’s family used to mine it, before the mines closed down, and every time I pick it up, I am reminded to pray for them as the cool, heavy stones slip between my fingers. As rosaries go, it is quite heavy, but I like the weight of it as it swings from my hands.

2. This is another one I designed and made myself, as a gift for a friend.

It is dyed fossilstone, in her favourite colours. We christened it the stealth rosary, because she’s not Catholic, and her parents are very definitely not Catholic. When it’s on, it just looks like a pretty bracelet with a cross on it, but it’s actually a five-decade rosary. Mwahahahahahahahaha.

3. There are no pictures of the third one – it’s another gift and she hasn’t got it yet. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.

[Edit: There is no danger of the recipient reading this before I get it to her now, so here it is - pearls and sterling silver].

And, me being me, this is my other essential.

I always have both corkscrew and rosary with me, on the grounds that if one doesn’t work, try the other.

No idea who to tag, so if you’re reading this, and you have three rosaries, consider yourself tagged. Please leave a note in the comments.

A post about the Rosary can be read here.

*I really do think it’s dashed unsporting of my employers to block flickr. I mean, expecting me to work in exchange for my salary? Tch.

I stole this off the BBC Food website a million years ago, and tweaked it, adapted it, and messed with it until it’s like this. Originally, there were no carrots, celery, pepper, mushrooms, lardons or smoked paprika. The instruction at the end of step 1 is, however, entirely original.

Serves 6-8. Easily halved, although I tend to leave the quantities of spices the same.

2 tbsp olive oil
2 onions, chopped
2 carrots, diced
2 sticks celery, diced
1 red pepper, de-seeded and diced
125g chestnut mushrooms, sliced
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1kg/2¼lb extra lean minced beef (or half beef and half pork)
200g smoked lardons (diced bacon. Get dry-cured if you can)
2 glasses red wine
2×400g cans chopped tomatoes
3 tbsp tomato purée
2 red chillies, thinly sliced, or 3-4 tsp dried chilli flakes
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp smoked paprika
1 stick cinnamon
good shake of Worcestershire sauce
1 beef stock cube
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2×400g can red kidney beans, drained
25g/1oz very dark chocolate (optional)

Heat the oil in a large saucepan and fry the onion, garlic, carrots and celery until softened. Increase the heat and add the mince and lardons, cooking quickly until browned and breaking down any chunks of mince with a wooden spoon. If it is very fatty (more of a problem if using a mix of beef & pork), drain the grease off. Add the pepper and mushrooms and fry for a further 5 minutes. Pour in the red wine and boil for 2-3 minutes. While waiting, pour a glass for yourself.

Stir in the tinned tomatoes, tomato purée, fresh chilli or chilli flakes, cumin, ground coriander, cinnamon, smoked paprika and Worcestershire sauce and crumble in the stock cube. Season well with salt and pepper. Bring to a simmer, cover with a lid and cook over a gentle heat for about 50 minutes to 1 hour, stirring occasionally until the mixture is rich and thickened. Add the kidney beans and chocolate, if using. Cook for a further 10 minutes, uncovered, before removing from the heat, adding any extra seasoning if necessary. Serve with rice or jacket potato.

On the bus coming home tonight, one of the girls in the back row of seats started having a loud mobile phone conversation about her love sex life. And when I say loud, I mean loud. Never mind me being able to hear it at the front of the bus, I think the people on the lower deck could hear as well.

“So then Wayne said to me, right, that ‘ee wann-ed me to [sorry, but I do have some limits, people, unlike her], and I said ‘no,’ right…” And so on.

So we all started chipping in with advice.

She got the hump.

Please pray for Anne, who is being received into the Catholic Church on 18th December.

Just time to start the Novena to the Holy Spirit!

Ever been in one of those situations where you can tell, right from the get go, that something is just not going to end well?

I was on the Tube yesterday, and two women got on, one wearing a very lovely, full length, white wool coat. The sort of coat that I look at in the shops, stroke, adoringly, and then put back, with a firm “you spend a minimum of forty minutes a day on public transport, this is practical how?” pep-talk to myself, and then go and buy a nice brown one.

The other woman was laden down with a suitcase, a couple of shopping bags, and a Belgian waffle covered in chocolate sauce. On a paper plate.

I looked up, thought “erk,” and was just about to offer to help suitcase-and-waffle-lady with getting settled, when it happened – the thing that everyone’s seen coming since opening this post.

She dropped the waffle, and the plate it was on.

The plate and waffle described a graceful, parabolic arc and dropped, with impressive accuracy, chocolatey-waffle-side down (of course) on the left breast of the gorgeous, white wool coat, and then slid down to about waist level before falling off and landing with a sad little “splat!” on the Tube train floor.

There was a collective intake of breath from just about every woman in line of sight, and a mass scramble for tissues and napkins in handbags, while white coat lady just stood there, possibly paralysed with shock, and the other woman started gabbling apologies and hunting through her purse for money for the cleaning bill.

I didn’t see how it ended – the train arrived at my stop, and I ran away (Mass at the Cathedral, yay!), but I do hope the chocolate came out without bankrupting either party.

I bought a bird feeder – one of those ones that sticks to a window using suckers.

The blurb on the website proclaims:

Features:
# Three-sided open access: – easier and safer for birds
# Two special perches – give additional space and accessibility
# Bird perching strip – to help birds land and feed
# Clear overhanging roof with visibility strip – gives weather protection and view of predator
# Large oval opening – for clearest views of birds
# Feeding area detachable – for simpler fixing, cleaning and filling
# Safety system – to restrain the feeder should the suckers ever fail

It arrived today, and I ripped open the box, all agog.

The much-vaunted “safety system” is a bit of string that you thread through some holes and tie round the window latch.