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Readers who know me, and who have a particular talent for visualisation, might want to steel themselves for the following account of relaxation and work at not imagining the scene in any detail.
Trying to soothe away the incessant chatter in my head, I remembered a relaxation technique I had found useful before; it is particularly good if, like me, you live in a frenetic household where distractions abound and the chances of drifting off into any form of meditation are slim to none.
The idea is that you simply notice the sounds around you, so lying in a warm foamy bath with the water lapping round my shoulders I closed my eyes and listened. You start off with the sounds closest to you: the gentle crackle of bubbles popping over the surface of the water; then the sound of breath slowly drawing in and out through my nose - a sort of hiss as I inspire and a broader deeper sound as I expire. Next. as I extended my awareness away from my warm pool, I noticed the plip, plip, plip of water in the toilet cistern and the pinging of expanding water pipes as hot water coursed through the radiators.
As I slipped lower into the deep water so only my head was above the soothing suds, I heard the gentle murmour of conversation against the muted sounds of early evening television. Even those normally urgent sounds seemed relaxing as I noticed that I couldn't make out the content of the conversation, just the general tone.
I heard the front door open and mused that T had returned from the gym, sure enough moments later came the dulled whine of the hand blender as he whizzed up his protein shake. I smiled to myself as the waves of mundane family life washed over me - it was good that the things that sometimes can make up a hectic family life were now the backdrop to a lovely deep relaxation.
I allowed my mind to drift out of the house. There were fireworks in the distance - what were they for? A special birthday? or just for the fun of them perhaps. Cars passed nearby with a sigh as I lazily submerged my head and enjoyed the altered muting of sounds, and drifted wondering when to bring my reverie to a gentle close...
Bang, Bang, Bang!
"Jeez, dad. 'Ave you died in there? How long you gonna be, I'm bursting - hurry up"
My heart tried to climb out of my throat, as I tried to climb out of the bath, depositing most of the watery contents onto the bathroom floor.
Deep breaths - in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out...
By way of a post script, I was hypnotised yesterday by Georgia - now that was relaxing I recommend it.
Whilst passing the time of day over a cup of tea with Sarah Didsbury's father, he happened to mention that she had only the other day shared an amusing Police type anecdote across the dinner table. Sarah gave me permission to re-tell the sorry tale as she skipped past us both with youthful vigour leaving only a fragrant cloud behind. Click Here to read the tale of how one particular Police Officer got more than he bargained for in exchange for his free bus ride.
We had a bit of a clan gathering this weekend to celebrate Mrs C's special birthday. I'm not noted as the wildest party host but I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve, one of which I'll share with you now. Every man needs a couple of recipes to impress, here is one of mine.
Often it is the simple things that are most impressive; so forget Delia's deep fried Mongolian Shrimp fritters with spicy Tahitan dip (I made that up by the way) and try Crofty's Fruit Salad - perfect for a hot Summer weekend:
Simply take...oh, that's been done hasn't it (sorry Delia, again). Gather a couple of pounds of your favourite fruit; I used cherries, seedless grapes, strawberries, blueberries and chopped pears - I prefer to avoid mixing citrus and non citrus fruits - wash and chop them, then pile them all in your favourite trifle bowl.
Next make the syrup: in a small saucepan warm about a quarter of a pint of water and dissolve into it four ounces of caster sugar. When the sugar has dissolved, bring to the boil, cover the pan and simmer gently for two minutes; then let it cool.
Now here's the secret weapon: when it's cool add just one tablespoonful of Kirsch - don't be tempted to add more; and don't be tempted to drink it - it's about four quid for a tiny bottle; and what's more, whilst the Swiss might be good at watches, clocks and army knives, they are rubbish at making a decent spirituous liquor. Kirsch tastes disgusting.
Mix all the ingredients thoroughly and bung the trifle dish in the fridge for a couple of hours while you relax waiting for the alchemy to occur. Finally remove and serve with a dollop of fresh cream, yoghurt, ice cream or what ever and bask in the glory as people ask you what the magic ingredients in the juice are.
You see, it's not really magic but more like science: over those couple of hours in the fridge, due to osmosis, the juices in the fruit have leached out and mingled with your syrup to make a glorious concoction. But you don't want to tell too many people that; simply give an inscrutable smile saying that you couldn't possibly reveal the recipe handed down over four generations from your grandparents.
Given that the majority of my regular readers live in countries other than the UK, and those who do live in the UK are hardly likely to pop up to Oldham simply to visit a shop on my recommendation, this post might be a wasted one. But, do you ever get a service from someone and are really, really pleased with it and want to share the fact? Me too.
This weekend was Matt and Toms' eighteenth birthday celebration; it started with a fabulous Chinese meal at the Shanghai Wong on Friday night (if ever you are passing...); Saturday night was a big night out with their mates in Manchester and Oldham (not arriving home until circa. 5am...is it legal for clubs to stay open that late?...glad it wasn't when I was their age; I'd never have lasted the pace).
Sunday, unbelievably, they were both sober and full of energy for the big family party at our house. The star of the party was the cake:
This fabulous themed creation shows different phases of their eighteen years from baby through drama/karate to brass bands and then cars (aspirational in this case; I couldn't find a VW Polo and Citroen Saxo model). The cake was designed and made by Cake Heaven of Lydgate, I highly recommend them to you.
We had a fantastic day, the weather was great, the chiminea kept the young people warm out of doors and allowed them to have their own party, whilst sundry grandparents, great aunts, uncles and aunts had a more sedate occasion indoors.
This is a small sample of the detritus of the day:
This morning Matt and Tom amazed me once more when they were ready for work, butty boxes full of the remains of the buffet, raring to go at the normal time, without a hint of the languor that was affecting Val and I.
Youth eh?
