The start of February saw some bitterly cold weather. We were having to pull on all our layers before venturing outdoors for essential exercise, and even my Yaktrax got an outing. The compensation for braving the freezing conditions were the most spectacular frost and ice formations. I’m not sure if it was this, or just getting a bit stir crazy, but I dreamt I was back on the summit of Ben Nevis. Many of you will remember that some of us tacked a trip up the Big Ben to the end of the West Highland Way. It might have been September at the bottom, but at the top it was the middle of a Narnian winter. On the real summit there was definitely frost and icicles, plus numerous Glaswegians milling around in fancy dress. One guy in a dressing gown. Another in a diving suit. I repeat, this was the real version not the dream!
In the dream version of Ben Nevis it was still bitterly cold (I think Dave must have pinched the duvet). Dave was there, as was Fergus (true so far), but then Doug turned up. And he was smiling and offering me a drink. I suppose this should have been the clue that it was all a dream, but perhaps I was enjoying it too much. I remember the feeling, that feeling you get on the top of a mountain: the openness, the lightness of the air, the sensation of the world being all below you. Fantastic. I love Essex, but I really miss that feeling.
The spring lockdown was OK. We had great weather and local walks were still a novelty. This latest winter lockdown has been much more of a chore. It’s been bucketing down with rain since December and with us all limited to local walks, the paths have become a sea of slithery mud. Walking sticks became a necessity just to stay upright. Too much sitting at the computer has given me a dodgy back and with the slippy paths and walking sticks, I feel like I’ve aged 10 years! One thing the freezing conditions did do was solidify all that mud. No longer at risk of sliding on your bum, but you might sprain an ankle.
It was with some delight that we woke up this morning to find that spring had arrived. Only a week ago I was photographing snowdrops literally frozen solid, but today it was all balmy breezes and primroses. We had a glorious walk from home out onto the chalky hills north of Saffron Walden. Most of the mud had miraculously vanished and we were treated to red kites circling overhead whilst the low winter sun cast long shadows across the fields. We even managed to find a footpath we’d not walked before – quite an achievement after months of lockdown.
Ali
The Spice of Life
A Zoom Indian restaurant has infinite space at the table and the menu is as long and varied as you care to make it. The only downside is that you can’t sample other people’s dishes.
We defrosted some Christmas turkey and attempted a turkey tikka masala, which I was pretty pleased with. Everyone else had been busy too. Jim’s chicken madras looked very nice and I was really quite envious of Cynthia’s lamb bhuna.
There had been some recipe trading in the days leading up to the event and it was really tricky to choose from so many delicious options. Our response was to cook a bit of everything. Come to think of it, that’s pretty traditional for a night out with CYHA. As well as the turkey tikka we had Bombay potatoes, poppadoms, bhajis, samosas, Cobra Indian lager and a very nice saffron rice pudding for afters. We were totally stuffed. In fact our catering was so generous we had it again the next night – difficult to do that in the local Indian.
Ali