Tag Archives: NaBloPoMo

NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMo: Where did the girl power generation go?

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spice

 

I remember The Spice Girls. Their idea of Girl Power. I was there. It all appeared to make sense, where were all the female role models?

Only a fortnight ago, Victoria Beckham was named something of a business entrenpreneur. Not bad for a girl band member with a pout. Moving all the way to a global icon. (Did she or did she not trade on brand beckham, did she create the band, and therein him?)

Anyway, female role models. Can you rememver one, in the last five years? Not after a feminist soap box rant.

And do we need all singing, all dancing role models, and for the sake of it, a girl, a woman?

Over the last few years there have been a number of initiatives aimed at encouraging women into science, technology, engineering and mathematics. Even ‘The Big Bang Theory’ was linked with an increase in the number of women studying Physics. Other than Madam Curie, I’m not sure that I could identify another female physicist. Does this beg the question then, are women put off by science? I would certainly say that I am involved in science, as a teacher of Psychology. I teach about observable empricism and the application of scientific principles. Yet, I’m not sure if I could be accurately defined as a woman in Science.

So Science is one area where the presence of women is questioned. I started with the mention of Victoria Beckham. How do you speak about her, and not be accused of cynical jealousy. Particularly, with her association to footbal. For me, she is not the only one to be linked. Arguably, the first lady of football, would be Karren Brady. She was last week made a peer in the House of lords, and can now be called Lady Brady. She was at one point on the board of Birmingam City Football club. Who else, with the exception of Mia Hamm, would you possible equate with football?

Female leadership in sport does exist. There are definitely stalwart ladies out there in the board rooms. Even as managers, Hope Powell was in charge of England ladies, until she was replaced by a fella. Another lady, whose exact name escapes me, manages a lower league men’s side in France. Andy Murray’s mum was his coach, and has been involved in sport for years.

Yet recently, a male coach suggested that women were absent as leaders in sport as they couldn’t handle the sight of boy bits.

I had to read that a few times too.

There are certainly ladies with clout. We have Posh, we have Beyonce. We have Adele.   But what does this mean for the average young lady?

That is less clear cut. All these shiny, indepedent, autonomous lady. Yet where is the translation to the classrooms, day care centres, public forums. I still wonder, about the legacy of the Girl Power Generation. We have yet to have another woman Prime Minister in Great Britain, yet our Queen is still going strong. There is are all Female shortlists for MP’s, yet the SNP only had one proper candidate and she happened to be a woman. A bonus.

There is either  a whinge and moan, about lack of female representation, or the banging of the drum that we have to have representation categorically. A yes but no situation, that cannot be resolved so easily.

Posh, Beyonce, Adele are certainly shiny. But ordinary, I’m not so sure.

We shall keep looking, for the elusive Girl Power Generation.

NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMo: The ‘Obbit Trug

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No one year is the same as the next year that follows when it comes to growing. But you always need something to carry your crop home. If you have loads of supermarket plastic bags, you need something to put those in. And pumpkins as you can see can be quite cumbersome. So naturally, having a trug is useful. I didn’t want just any old trug, I wanted a Hobbit trug. Off I went and saw to asking the lovely people at https://www.facebook.com/Loldeantimber?fref=ts

Having spotted @loldeantimber on the twitterverse, figured that they would have just the trug I wanted. I started out wanting a racing green one, or just plain green. To make it look prettier, wanted some flowers on it. I left it with @loldeantimber, and lo and behold, I got a fabulous handmade trug. Supporting British Business too! There were no air miles involved here. Though they might be international yet.  @loldeantimber do lots of other handmade gardening thingies too….chicken perches? I don’t have birdies yet….

It’s not delicate, and it is adult sized. They do have children’s ones. I may be hobbit sized, but this size is big enough I assure you!  Over the summer, it has been filled to the brim with assorted GYO crops. Has rather earned it’s keep, and it is sat in Dad’s shed, resting til next year. It’s not quite hand bag shaped.

When you have a trug this fabulous, you want to share it. So I did. I asked @loldeantimber if they wouldn’t mind making another one for me.  Only this one wasn’t for me. This trug was for http://www.gardeningleave.org/  Gardening leave works with Veterans of conflict, and uses horticultural therapy to help ease the effects of conflict. Being passionate about gardening, and currently training to be a trainee counsellor, I can fully understand the work that charities such as Gardening leave do.

So much so, this is their page for the http://www.gardeningleave.org/index.php/honesty/ The work that they do is incredible and really needs more awareness and support.

NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMO: A work of fiction

Today being Armistice day, I wasn’t sure of what was apt to post. The allotment is also wet, muddy and none too pretty looking.  Then I had a thought. Today has meaning for many people, there are lots of views on it. Big Ben has just chimed the hour, the reveille has been played. There is a certain sombre tone in the air. I have used Armistice day a few times as a device in writing fan fiction-remember that star trek PBEM RPG mentioned previously sectorg.org. That is what you see below. I cannot stress enough, that this fictional. I have loosely woven fictional events and ideas, but still a work of fiction. I don’t claim to be an expert, and all the views are my own. There are also glaring spelling and grammar mistakes.

[Caledonia-BoB] SD241411.11 Flashback log Dharma et al NPC’s

The Western Front’Ypres, Belgium 10.56 am 11/11/1918
 
As the clouds parted, a shell whizzed across the trench that was gouged across the wooded land. With the sound of the shell was the ack ack of the machine guns that swept across the surface.

“God, this was supposed to be over by Christmas. Oi, Dharma, you got any smokes in yer tin?”
 
“Two seconds,please,” came the reply.
 
“Two seconds? You trying to kill the lot of us?”
 
The stories were well known. That waiting for a certain numbered cigarette would kill the lot of them.
 
“There you are,” a sharp grin flashed as two roll ups were handed over. “Do you still have any brandy, please? In your flask,”
 
Private James Windburn looked at his comrade in arms. “I do,” he nodded, “But what you want it for, mate? You don’t drink, you don’t smoke. It’s all yessir, no sir, with you.”
 
“I got a sore finger,” replied Private Dharma holding up a gnarled index finger. “It is very cold, and I don’t want it get infected. I have to write a letter to my wife.”
 
James looked at the young asian man who stood before him in the coarse brown and grey uniform of the platoon. ” Laxmi, yeah?”He asked, holding onto his tin hat. They were fighting for the same King. They were members of the same Commonwealth family.
 
“Yes,” Smiled Dharma. “I’ve not written for sometime, and I know she’ll be worried. Oh, dear, Windburn, move,” he called lurching forwards, to move his comrade out the way as something landed in the trench. “MA-UVE!”
 
Private Windburn left it a moment. Left it a moment for the ringing in his ears to stop. “Dharma, oi, Golly, you there still?”he asked, trying to catch his breath.
 
He could hear moans and bleating, as he looked up from the heap of mud he hand landed in.
 
“Golly, you there?”He rubbed his eyes and stood up, and tripped over. James looked down, as he lost his footing. His left foot was missing.
 
“Over here, James,” came an equally pained reply. “Not good, James,” Dharma staggered, “Look, I’ve lost my finger,” he said laughing, wanting to move the stump that was now his left arm.
 
A breeze filled the trench, before the sudden sound of silence.
 
“Boys, we’re done, that’s the end! We’re going home!” A whooping sound cascaded over them, the guns had gone.
 
“What, what did he say?”Dharma attempted to sit up. 
 
“Here are, Golly, you still got legs,” Private Windburn helped Dharma up. “C’mon, we’re going home. I get to go back to Hackney.”
 
“Hackney, london, yes?”Dharma hobbled. “I’ve only heard stories. Never been there. Sounds like a brave new world.”
 
“It’s the centre of my universe, Golly, universe!”He said, pressing his grotty palms to the man’s face. “What about you, back to The Punjab fer you is it?”
 
“Private, lend us your arm,” another soldier had appeared at the edge of the trench. “Aight, golly?”he asked of the asian chap, putting his had down.
 
“I like the sound of london,” Said Dharma, pulling himself up the ladder. “Buck’ingham Palace. The King lives there.”

“I know,” nodded Private Windburn. “Often pops round for tea and sandwiches, Golly,” he laughed. “Whatcha gonna do, your missis, she’ll be waiting.”
 
“She said she would. I’ll ask her. To come over. To london, perhaps.”said Dharma, landing onto the coarse grey mud that was over top. “What time is it, James?”
 
James looked at his watch as he clambered over the ladder. “Eleven o’clock, Golly. Not a minute to soon, mate.”

~*~*~* Present day, Urean Colony ~*~*~*

“We remember today, those brave men and women who have lain down their lives in conflicts. Who have fought for freedom, progress and peace. It is today that we acknowledge the greatest sacrifice that any one man can make for others.”
 
Jevan paused, as the wind whistled.
 
“We shall remember them.”
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pg0D8SpL1Ik
 
Everything was new. Yet the old came back to haunt them with good reason. The final notes of the haunting melody faded away. As Jevan stood at the black and white marble obelisk in the main piazza in the central hub of colony. With the solemness befitting the occasion, he placed a circular wreath of poppies at the base of the structure. Taking a step back, he bowed his head and stepped away from the platform.
 
Never had so many had owed so much to so few. 
 
Jevan and ‘Golly’ Dharma
—
Armistice 2411: Flanders of the final frontier’
=/\= St. Dunstans primary, indy, ARC1 =/\=

Tissue paper rustled. Scissors moved with precision through red card. Class 6M of Saint Dunstans, were preparing for the outdoor service at All Saints. So far they had a poppy wreath. Some were sticking and gluing tissue. Some were writing messages on their jagged edged poppy. Personal messages of thank you or remembrance.

Suraj trimmed the last bit of his poppy, and then stuck the some what spikey leaf at eleven o’clock.

His uncle had called, and asked him to do something. Something a little important. Especially today.

Picking up a rather old fashioned pencil, Suraj leant forwards to write.

The letters formed, neatly. Suraj had practiced this morning.

Crewman Morrie. Bowers. One of our own.

“all right kids. We are done. Five minutes to tidy. Coats, gloves. Door please, when you are done.”

It hadn’t taken long. Years five and six would walk to the service down the road.

They waited, as the last post was sounded. A two minute silence, and then then reveille.

Then with observant solemnity, years five and six filed past the All saints cenotaph. Some had mums, dads, uncles and aunts who served in the armed forces. Grand parents too, who may not have been with them today.

After Eddie Harlow, Suraj took his turn. Tacking the poppy to the wooden frame at the base, he watched it flutter lightly as he walked away.

Replicators were curiously funny things. On the indy, Devon peered in and took up the red and green object. Checking the Asymmetry of the petals, he pinned the paper flower above his comm badge. It didn’t quite match the one made by the long Lost Aida of family yore. But it would do. And out here. It meant more than anyone could possibly think about.

Snipping out the red petals carefully from a scrap of red fabric, arihana had her tongue sticking out. Placing the nail scissors away, she coloured in the middle with some black eyeliner. She had a safety pin some place.

::flashback Armisitice day 1926, 37 Acacia Avenue::

Sweeping the autumn leaves across the lawn, Golly Dharma heard the chiming of church clock around the corner. The eleven hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month.

Taking the handle of the rake, he took a deep breath. As though he was a back in that foxhole. It didn’t take much. The rake could easily have been the grime greased bayonet that he had prized from cold dead fingers.

He could still hear it. The death wail, the rat a tat. The whizzing. The sounds that hung in his ears.

Golly remembered. As he had been there

“He does it every year,” whispered a woman, standing on the threshold of the back door. A small fair haired child tugged at the bottom of her dress.”Since James passed, he’s come out alone. Excuses himself, and comes out here. Rakes up the leaves. One year, Laxmi, before you came. It snowed, snowed like I’ve never known it. And he still stood there.”

Another much younger child, was cradled by the second one. Laxmi Dharma watched her husband; and did her best to understand. Her English was limited, even after all these years. And life was hard, this far away from India. A coloured face was a different face strange, alien and untrusting. But there had been enough trust to be shared with the Windburns who had taken them in.

Life in hackney had been arduous, and James had uprooted his family as Birmingham found itself thriving. He and Golly had formed something of a strange familial bond. And then they had shared this house, and they still did.

Between them, they eked out enough in pounds, pence and shilling to cover the rent. Just.

“Take care of your little girl, Laxmi,” Florence said sadly. “Her daddy, and Alfred’s daddy. All the other boys. Gave up more than me and you could ever tell the kids. Golly, Gulwinder, he’s here, innie. And James, may not be. They both were never quite the same. Make sure that your little ‘in. Aida, innit. Makes something of ‘erself. For james. For Golly,” she looked up with a nod as Golly edged back up the garden.

“they can’t forget, Laxmi,” she whispered, gesturing that they should both retreat back into the warmth.

With the rake dragging behind him in the grass, golly walked along the grass.

The sounds. The smells. The sights. The boys.

They were still with him. Even now.

***
November 11th, 1946.

Aida tore a cover off her diary. It was red, and it would do the job. Reaching for a pair of her mum’s nail scissors, the now 20 year old Aida clipped a shape out of the paper. With one side slightly smaller than the other, there were 2 conjoined kidney shaped edges. Things were tight still, and mum didn’t have the spare change to buy one. Reaching for a tin of kiwi boot polish, Aida dabbed an index finger into the polish and then onto the centre of the red cut out.

Closing the tin, a small safety pin was picked up. Had the light been better, it would have glinted. Threading it through the card, she was happy with the venture. “Sunil, Anand, Jaya!” she called. The rest of her siblings were down the stairs. It took a moment before they thundered upstairs.

“Aida, what ya don wi’ ya book?” sunil all but wailed. “Oh, poppy!” he half brightened, and smiled. “Dad told me ’bout them.”

“I wan’ one,” Anand and his twin sister Jaya jostled forwards in unison.

“you’ll get one, here, help me,” pulling jaya towards her lap, Aida handed her the rest of the card.
On the landing, Laxmi peered into the room. It was a strange experience, seeing her children like this. Aida, 20, Sunil all very gangly. The ten year old twins. Golly would have been proud. A shame, that the twins barely remembered him.

But they would. Remember.

Suraj Havane NPC

Lt arihana dharma
Chief counsellor
SB BoB

Cmdr Devon Dharma
XO
USS Industrious

Gulwinder ‘Golly’ dharma, Laxmi and the kids
USS Caledonia & Starbase BoB
Starfleet Sector G

www.sectorg.org

NaBloPoMo, project othello, roses

#NaBloPoMo: Tidying up on the plot

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With the growing season over, the plot takes on a whole new appearance. The colour and foliage has all but gone. What does remain, is the hardier spinach and chard like creatures, and of course the weeds that were missed from the first time they were spotted.

The plan was therefore to go down to the plot and start weeding and digging. I did the weeding, and some digging but not as much digging as I would like. The plot is clay, or in this weather, heavy clay. It is solid, sticky, and squelchy. The red wellington boots were covered and caked in the stuff.

I concentrated on the one bed on project othello, the second half of the plot.There are seven beds on project othello, two of which are currently occupied by cabbages. The aim is to fill a few of the others with soft fruit.

Welcome to Hobbitland
Welcome to Hobbitland

Project othello is on the right hand side of this diagram, and the bed in question has already got mint and a rochester peach tree in it. This particular bed had been full of gladiolus, tomatoes and courgettes, so was in need of a tidy up. There were quite a few clumps of grass that had sprouted across it. These were all pulled up, which was made easier by the soil being wet.

The chard is still going, as is the perpetual spinach. Neither of these likes the warmth or direct. The chard in question is bright lights and vulcan chard. Bright lights does as it suggests, lots of yellow stalks. Vulcan chard, is the red one,and always reminds me of Spock. It doesn’t bleed green, I checked. It does however make nice pasta sauce and onion bhajis.

Over the summer, the roses were in full bloom. And they are still going, some of them at least. Even those hacked down and dead headed, have new blooms coming through.

Dorset and Bengle Naga, NaBloPoMo, Superhots 2014

#NaBloPoMo: Chilled out Chillies

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The interior of the poly tunnel looks a bit like Miss. Havisham’s boudoir at the moment. All of the chillies are still fleeced over. Good thing too as we had the first frost this week. Today was the first opportunity that I had to check that the chillies were all there, and yes they are. One or two leaves have gone a little black, but the rest remain green. May  have to feed them, but they are all still very green, leafy and there are lots of flower buds.

As they look so leafy, and full of buds, I don’t really want to euthanise them. I would just like to have one chilli!

NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMO: The holiday you don’t forget; Tunisia 2005

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One of the NaBloPoMO prompts this week was about holidays. Eight years ago, I was lucky enough to go on my first proper holiday abroad with my aunt and cousin. I think it was Wimbledon week 2005. There had been travel vaccinations involved, and even malaria tablets. I was a student, so this had to be travel on a budget. We had discussed where we wanted to go, I suggested Tunisia, and thought nothing of it. I fancied going there, and it was a corner of the universe to travel to. So off we went to Hamamet.

The day we landed, it rained. For all of half an hour, and all the water evaporated as soon as it had arrived. Being a meat eater, I was okay with most things. Unlike my vegetarian and vegan travel companions, this proved a bit difficult. Those two ideas are not easily translated in that part of the world. As you can see, it was beautifully hot, I burned terribly and by day six I was happy to stay indoors. Floppy hat and floaty Kaftan were order of the day, and lots and lots of aftersun.

We spent three days travelling across salt desert, having a novelty camel ride. All of six hundred yards, but I have now ridden a camel. I survived that, the damned things don’t half smell. Even went to a vineyard and did some shopping. I bartered for and bought a tea service. Don’t ask me why, but it was something like 12 Tunisian Dinar or £6.

The highlight for me, was El Gem, the Colosseum. Absolutely break taking. Imagine, a Roman Wembley. I actually stood in the middle and just looked up. A completely awe making sight. Imagine, being there knowing you were going to cease to exist. That a great big hungry lion was coming straight at you. Wasn’t happening the day we went, thankfully, there was going to be an open air concert that day. The picture that you see above, involved sitting on a knobbly seat and trying not to fall down. There was even roman graffiti etched into the stone. Down below, were the rather eerie dungeons where prisoners were kept. Such a sad place, cold as well. Rumour has it that Gladiator may have been shot there. In Matmata, another region we passed through, Star Wars had been shot there. If you ever see a Colosseum, other than the Italian one, go see this one.

For my first ever proper holiday, I was truly spoiled. I’d definitely go back, and to a posher hotel too. And with a fella. I don’t advise going there as a group of girls.

Mama H recipes, NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMo: Fenugreek is a fab food

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Fenugreek in raised bed
Fenugreek in raised bed

Ma loves this stuff. For most gardeners, Fenugreek is a green manure. Not many might think it’s edible. It is. Makes for lovely stuffed chappatis and curries too. As a green manure, it will help with nutrients when dug over. I will probably dig this over, once ma has made a final harvest.

As you can see, we have one 2mx1m raised bed, half of which had fenugreek in it. There had been baby green tomatoes sat next to it. Ma swears blind that there are different types of fenugreek, and the ones her dad grew when she was a child were taller and greener. She might be right, but I don’t remember them being taller or greener.

Used in Indian cooking, Ma does rather like the leaves. She also likes the mooli pods you get when you have bolted japanese radishes. She’d actually curried those yesterday.

How do you make a stuffed chappati with these then?

Using plain or wholemeal flour add the washed and chopped leaves. Add water and make a dough. Make small balls, and roll out to 3-4 mm and heat through on a flat pan or a tava (Indian pan used to make chappatis). You can also put into mashed spuds and stuff into chappatis.

To curry:

Saute sliced onions, garlic, ginger and cumin in a teaspoon of oil. Once transparent, add fenugreek leaves, add garam masala, salt, pepper, and potatos with some turmeric. Fenugreek should wilt down, and you can also add cayenne or green chillies. Add a little water, and you can steam the spuds to cook. Fenugreek has quite a bitter taste, and therefore an acquired taste. Dried, it can be used it the same way as herbs. You can also do the same with Mooli pods, which you do have to bash first.

NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMo: Romance of the Cup, FA Cup 1st round

Today has been dubbed Super Saturday given the assorted games being played today. As this was being handwritten, Liverpool were leading against Chelsea. The scoreline did actually change, but I won’t give that away. I love Jose, no one else comes close to that man and his swagger.

The FA cup (that’s the Football Association of England, and it’s not soccer) starts this weekend with the first round. There are a number of phrases associated with this tournament. ‘Minnows’, ‘Banana skins’ and ‘Giant killings’, all equate to the romance, drama and sheer brutality of ‘the cup’. It’s a rather nice piece of silverware.

If I remember correctly, this was one dubbed by The BBC as ‘The road to Wembley’. Wembley being the national stadium of England, and home of The Three lions. I have memories of The FA cup being the show piece ending of the season, a whole Saturday dedicated to it.  A proper three pm kick off.

The FA cup final is best described as being an epic. A showpiece. Beautifully mown grass, usually in the shape of diamonds. I wonder if that helped crosses go further. Players popping out onto the pitch in spiffy suits. Who can forget the Liverpool team of years gone passed with their white suits. Not quite Xavi Alonso, I tell you. A brass band, stirring into the tones of ‘Abide with me’ the other football anthem, other than you’ll never walk alone.

No one is safe in the Cup, and all teams are equal. Hence the banana skins, minnows and giant killings. The biggest of clubs, can fall to the smallest of teams who might be three leagues away from them. For smaller clubs, that’s a hell of pay day. There was of course the one episode, where one particular club decided not to participate, and chose to play in another tournament. Not a good day for English Football, the other was the lack of the 2018 world cup, I think.

I haven’t watched a Cup final in years. Even this year, I found it by accident, and then didn’t watch it. There have been too many changes since I last watched it.The shine, has somewhat disappeared for me.  Could be worse, we might still have those horrific FA Cup final songs that used to be released. Great for the charities that used to benefit, but less so for music aficionados.

chillies, NaBloPoMo, Superhots 2014

#NaBloPoMO: Chilli check-in

chillies chilliflower

 

These are the chillies plants earlier this week. We have since had a frost, but these were all fleeced. This in the vain hope that they wouldn’t be hurt, but you never know. They might look a bit robust, but so far, they’ve been very leafy but not provided any fruit.

There are a number of chillies in the poly tunnel:

  • serrano
  • chocolate habanero
  • orange habanero
  • jamaican jerk
  • bengle and Dorset naga
  • hot thai
  • hot patio sizzle
  • tobasco

The tobasco is actually nearly five foot tall, and only just starting to send out tiny little white flowers. The others are still leafy. As you can see , I have been finding some of the white flowers and tickling them. it’s too cold to keep the poly open, and there are not many flying insects around to help pollinate.

I didn’t plan to over winter these plants, but I am now debating as to how long I can keep them. I do need to check, actually, if they are still alive. It may well be that Mother Nature has already given me an answer to that question. Would be disappointing if they have all ceased to exist. This year we have had the grand sum of three chillies.

cabbages and brassicas, Hobbit homebrew, NaBloPoMo

#NaBloPoMo: Decanting Day 2: Rhubarb’d Vodka

During the summer, I had harvested some rhubarb. This was then placed into a clip top jar, with cloves, ginger, sugar and vodka. This has been in the airing cupboard for approximately three months. I say approximately, as it had about another ten days to go for that exact term. Shaken at the outset, the concoction has then been left to it’s own devices.

Unlike the cordial that I had made, it actually looks orange. A lighter shade of irn bru, not at all pink as was expected. I had also expected a bit more liquid. There is exactly 70 Cl-ish there of vodka. Those bottles are 500 ml sized.. Unlike soft fruit, Rhubard doesn’t actually release it’s own juices. The boozy soaked rhubarb is now put aside for a boozy pudding.