Rugby -v- football

Sophie and Tom came over today for a visit. It was wet and miserable for most of the day so they brightened it up nicely.

Tom plays peek-a-boo behind his best friend

I was going to cook something Italian this time and decided to look inside a Tuscan cookbook I bought many years ago but have never used. I bought it when we were in Tuscany, originally intending to make the wonderful and traditional bread soup. I never did…though Mirinda has now decided I should.

I decided to make a traditional veal and mushroom stew followed by completely non-traditional plum puffs. The plum puffs are from another cookbook entirely and something I’ve made many times before. They are a bit of a favourite in our house but, because they’re rather naughty, are rarely made.

The beauty of the veal stew is that it doesn’t take hours to make (all slow cooking and flavour enhancing) as it’s made in the Creuset on top of the hob. The flavours are enhanced by the addition of catmint or calamint (depending on the translation you use).

Of course, I couldn’t get either in Waitrose so I created my own herbal mix. I used mint, oregano and rosemary all blended up together. It smelled quite pungent but added a lovely taste to the stew.

The plum puffs are also quite easy to prepare (if you don’t mind a bit of puff pastry sculpture) and can be prepared early since they need to be served at room temperature. And, if I do say so myself, they were delicious. The combination of strawberry jam, marzipan, half a fresh plum all wrapped up in an almond coated puff pastry parcel is close to divine. Particularly with double cream poured into the top.

So, lunch was lovely (we had an equally delightful bottle of Vouvray white wine to accompany it) even though Tom was, as usual, less than enthusiastic when it comes to food. We had a good feed and chat, trying not to sound too negative within Tom’s earshot.

Sophie is thinking of moving back to London following, what can only be described as, an unsuccessful attempt to become part of the social life of the Isle of Wight.

I have never seen that small town thing of ‘incomers’ being left out in the cold until they’ve lived in a place for 20 years but, poor Sophie appears to be on the receiving end of just that. It’s one thing trying to cajole kids to have play dates with Tom, it’s quite another to feel lonely and friendless while he’s at school. I feel very sad for both of them.

Tom seems to have grown somewhat accustomed to it, saying he doesn’t mind where he goes to school when given the choice. He’s such an outgoing and friendly chap that I think he needs to be at a school where his popularity has nothing to do with long term residency.

Finally sated, Mirinda and Sophie took off for a walk into Farnham (the rain had stopped for a bit) while Tom and I watched Shrek 4 for the second time (for me – I think Tom has seen it 327 times).

It’s one of those rare films during which Tom actually sits (lies on me) and watches right through. At the conclusion, however, we had to have a wrestle and a bit of boxing.

Boxing with an eight year old is difficult unless you are also eight years old. Unless you’re sitting down. Telling him to keep his guard up is useless when you’re towering over him and you can just pat him on the top of his head. Still, a lot of energetic fun was had without the aid of light sabres.

Mirinda and Sophie returned and had a cup of tea without asking whether I’d like one and chatted about such interesting things as real estate and law while Tom and I tussled in the lounge.

It was, all too soon, time for them to catch the train into London. Another lovely day. Though I did mention taking Tom to the football sometime (Nicktor wondered about it the other day) and Sophie was all for it. I was rather surprised until she explained
that she meant rugby. She thinks the crowds that attend rugby matches are far more civilised. She really doesn’t want him going to a Chelsea game.

When I said I didn’t want to take him to a Chelsea game, she was more enthusiastic. Mirinda asked if she was okay with Aldershot and she said as long as it wasn’t Chelsea, she was fine. I’m fairly certain she doesn’t really understand how football works.

I’m thinking I might get Tom an Aldershot shirt next time I’m at the Rec.

Tom explains to me the finer points of whoopee cushion operation