Maybe my reference to Bruckner and praise in my last post was hyperbole but check out this link to see what others say.
In fact I rarely listen to Bruckner, strange though that might seem when the very name of my blog venerates him. But then I rarely eat fish pie or golden syrup filled trifle sponges. For each one the reason is partly circumstantial (I will not listen to good music unless it is quiet and I have some chance of hearing the whole performance, and my lifestyle does not often grant me such conditions), and partly because a great experience repeated too often is in danger of becoming commonplace. Whilst the thought of golden syrup at every meal sends certain thrills, I rather think I might tire at last.
Talking about golden syrup, does anyone else out there venerate evaporated milk as I do? Another family here venerates condensed milk to a similar degree. Whilst both substances start with reduced milk, and the original purpose of each was to preserve milk, they are very different in taste. So I did a bit of research. Condensed milk has, of course, a lot of sugar added and this helps preserve it. Evaporated milk, on the other hand, has no added sugar and thus has a shorter shelf life even when tinned. To help combat this, the process of making evaporated milk raises it to a higher temperature, so high that it starts to caramelise and it is this which gives it its characteristic taste. I should have known, caramel lover than I am. There is no way to start the day quite so pleasing as breakfast cereal with a healthy slosh of evaporated milk added to the normal whole milk and sugar.
And, talking about a pleasing start to the day, I was concocting a new temperature scale (as one does) whilst taking a longer than usual, and rather chilly run this afternoon, barefoot with Meg around the lake shore around by Baltiboys bridge. It goes something like this:
> 25'C is far too hot for life as we know it here in Ireland
20-25'C very hot and rather exceptionable
15-20'C hot: this and above is good for swimming in lakes, rivers or sea
10-15'C warm, OK for Autumn swimming but a bit parky in Spring
5-10'C cool, and most common here in Ireland
0-5'C cold, chilly when wet under-barefoot
< 0'C freezing, barefoot running is OK only if it is dry
A bit of wind-chill factor can be added to this rough guide, but the weather forecasters overdo it. And there is a bit of seasonal hysteresis especially for swimming because of the thermal mass of water.
Showing posts with label condensed milk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label condensed milk. Show all posts
20150215
20120515
School days
My older sister was my childhood mentor. Three years my elder it was she who "held my hand" on my very first day at primary school. Many years later I asked what happened in secondary school and she told me about "boring" subjects like physics - when I asked her was physics was she told me it was about heat and light and electricity, which to me sounded most interesting!
My first school was Alresford Preparatory School run by a "the thin Miss Curtis" aided by her sister (who was not, I think, trained as a teacher) "the fat Miss Curtis". This was a dame school with all 30 or so students studying in a single room. The school was closed down by modern idealists not long after I graduated. I regret that I cannot find any old photographs, so the best I can do is this one I took recently - apologies to whoever lives here now. The location is a yard opening off West Street.
The school room was upstairs. Access was via the door you see - it has not changed. Under the staircase was the "closet" (toilet). Students were discouraged from using this facility, I suppose for fear that it would detract from their studies. I remember several occasions of younger inmates asking to "go" and it being denied. The inevitable result was also not greeted with enthusiasm. As the years went by you progressed from the west (entrance) end to the east end of the room, and from the "fat" Miss Curtis to the "thin" Miss Curtis. No-one liked the "fat" one. The "thin" one was strict but at least rational. The "fat" one was highly unpredictable. One one occasion she arrived at school with her hair dyed bright orange, and we are talking about middle-aged sisters here.
'A' for Apple, 'B' for Bucket, 'C' for Cat, 'D' for Domino, 'E' for Engine, 'F' for Feather, 'G' for Gate, 'H' for Hat, 'I' for Ink, 'J' for Jug, 'K' for Kite, 'L' for... and here my memory fails me. Possibly 'Lamb'. I can still visualise some of the pictures on the cards.
As expected I got my 11 plus but only after the second attempt. I had the chance to take it twice because of birthday, I did not and still do not understand the details. After failing my father told me I needed to work harder, a concept that had not occurred to me before this point. I suppose I duly obeyed and passed, and thus an entrance was gained to me to Peter Symonds grammar school, Winchester, and later to Oriel College, Oxford.
The preparatory school was highly predictable. Every year me made chinese lanterns and crocus cards to exactly the same design. For what seems always we wove raffia to make what turned out to be (to my great surprise) a place mat. And we wound wool around an annular card former. Eventually this became fat enough and it was whisked away and re-appeared the next day, wonder of wonders, and a fuzzy bobble.
There was a stuffed fox in a glass show-case on a shelf at the east end of the room. Under this shelf was a piano and a Miss Cob (Cobweb to us) gave us music lessons once a week. We would sing such English delights as "Early one morning" and "and the green grass grew around, around, around" (of which I have since learnt the somewhat different Irish version). I remember the time when I "noticed" that the piano playing involved an accompaniment as well as a melody - and remember acknowledging how good it sounded and how amazing something so good should emanate from the cobweb.
There were wonderful, coloured maps on the walls - one had the Caspian Sea marked on it, which name enchanted me. My eyes explored every line on these maps. Maps still hold a place dear to my heart. And there was time to dwell thus: for example at a certain and totally predictable time of the week we would do "paper work" (origami to you). An instruction might be to fold the paper along a diagonal. This I accomplished in a few seconds then looked around to see where my peers were at. The considerable amount of time and teacher intervention that some of these required to achieve a result of poorer quality still amazes me, but gave me plenty of time for contemplation.
At the west (entrance) end was a pot-bellied stove, the only source of heat. I cannot remember anyone getting burnt - children, on the whole, have enough sense - all this modern nonsense of putting guards up everywhere to make things "safe" is hugely overdone. I was regulation in those days for all school children to each be provided with a 1/3 pint of milk in a returnable glass bottle. These were delivered in a crate and on cold, winter's mornings the milk would arrive frozen solid. The crate would be placed beside the stove and the contents were consumed, I suppose, at break time half-way through the morning. Often the milk was still half frozen by that time and, when mention was made of this, I remember the fat Miss Curtis declaring that it was "just like ice cream". My confidence in grown ups was totally devastated by this blatant and manipulative falsehood and has never really recovered since.
My first school was Alresford Preparatory School run by a "the thin Miss Curtis" aided by her sister (who was not, I think, trained as a teacher) "the fat Miss Curtis". This was a dame school with all 30 or so students studying in a single room. The school was closed down by modern idealists not long after I graduated. I regret that I cannot find any old photographs, so the best I can do is this one I took recently - apologies to whoever lives here now. The location is a yard opening off West Street.
The school room was upstairs. Access was via the door you see - it has not changed. Under the staircase was the "closet" (toilet). Students were discouraged from using this facility, I suppose for fear that it would detract from their studies. I remember several occasions of younger inmates asking to "go" and it being denied. The inevitable result was also not greeted with enthusiasm. As the years went by you progressed from the west (entrance) end to the east end of the room, and from the "fat" Miss Curtis to the "thin" Miss Curtis. No-one liked the "fat" one. The "thin" one was strict but at least rational. The "fat" one was highly unpredictable. One one occasion she arrived at school with her hair dyed bright orange, and we are talking about middle-aged sisters here.
'A' for Apple, 'B' for Bucket, 'C' for Cat, 'D' for Domino, 'E' for Engine, 'F' for Feather, 'G' for Gate, 'H' for Hat, 'I' for Ink, 'J' for Jug, 'K' for Kite, 'L' for... and here my memory fails me. Possibly 'Lamb'. I can still visualise some of the pictures on the cards.
As expected I got my 11 plus but only after the second attempt. I had the chance to take it twice because of birthday, I did not and still do not understand the details. After failing my father told me I needed to work harder, a concept that had not occurred to me before this point. I suppose I duly obeyed and passed, and thus an entrance was gained to me to Peter Symonds grammar school, Winchester, and later to Oriel College, Oxford.
The preparatory school was highly predictable. Every year me made chinese lanterns and crocus cards to exactly the same design. For what seems always we wove raffia to make what turned out to be (to my great surprise) a place mat. And we wound wool around an annular card former. Eventually this became fat enough and it was whisked away and re-appeared the next day, wonder of wonders, and a fuzzy bobble.
There was a stuffed fox in a glass show-case on a shelf at the east end of the room. Under this shelf was a piano and a Miss Cob (Cobweb to us) gave us music lessons once a week. We would sing such English delights as "Early one morning" and "and the green grass grew around, around, around" (of which I have since learnt the somewhat different Irish version). I remember the time when I "noticed" that the piano playing involved an accompaniment as well as a melody - and remember acknowledging how good it sounded and how amazing something so good should emanate from the cobweb.
There were wonderful, coloured maps on the walls - one had the Caspian Sea marked on it, which name enchanted me. My eyes explored every line on these maps. Maps still hold a place dear to my heart. And there was time to dwell thus: for example at a certain and totally predictable time of the week we would do "paper work" (origami to you). An instruction might be to fold the paper along a diagonal. This I accomplished in a few seconds then looked around to see where my peers were at. The considerable amount of time and teacher intervention that some of these required to achieve a result of poorer quality still amazes me, but gave me plenty of time for contemplation.
At the west (entrance) end was a pot-bellied stove, the only source of heat. I cannot remember anyone getting burnt - children, on the whole, have enough sense - all this modern nonsense of putting guards up everywhere to make things "safe" is hugely overdone. I was regulation in those days for all school children to each be provided with a 1/3 pint of milk in a returnable glass bottle. These were delivered in a crate and on cold, winter's mornings the milk would arrive frozen solid. The crate would be placed beside the stove and the contents were consumed, I suppose, at break time half-way through the morning. Often the milk was still half frozen by that time and, when mention was made of this, I remember the fat Miss Curtis declaring that it was "just like ice cream". My confidence in grown ups was totally devastated by this blatant and manipulative falsehood and has never really recovered since.
20120510
Running bare feet and tinned milk 2
Mcvities Golden Syrup cake (made with Tate and Lyle's Golden Syrup), topped with Tesco's Toffee Desert Sauce (ingredients major in condensed milk, golden syrup and cream), with the last of the tinned (evaporated) milk poured over. Such synergy!
Another totally bare foot run along the "forest" route this morning, after a lot of rain during the night. So the ground was very wet and slippery. I missed my footing whilst investigating a stream and cut my hand on a rock when steadying myself. Later I slipped on a down hill part and my other hand landed in a gorse bush to steady myself. On the bright side I don't think I contracted any foot splinters though.
Another totally bare foot run along the "forest" route this morning, after a lot of rain during the night. So the ground was very wet and slippery. I missed my footing whilst investigating a stream and cut my hand on a rock when steadying myself. Later I slipped on a down hill part and my other hand landed in a gorse bush to steady myself. On the bright side I don't think I contracted any foot splinters though.
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