Shosh and Gav's wedding

Friday, 17th September 2010

A beautiful day

A beautiful bride

A happy couple

Congratulations to Shosh and Gavin

May you have a wonderful and long life together

Kitchen alchemy

OK so everyone who reads the daily CFZ blog will know by now that my eldest daughter, Shoshannah, is getting married this coming Friday to Gavin - the 17th September being the anniversary of the day they first met, which I think is really sweet.

I offered to make the wedding cake – a task that I have thrown myself into with great gusto as I like baking, and it is always nice to satisfy my love for these escapades into flour, egg, sugar and butter alchemy, without having to eat everything I produce. It is the production of, rather than the eating thereof, that I like most about cake. However, the fact that the bottom tier was going to be the biggest cake I have ever tackled was a bit daunting, with the fairly important question coming to mind - will it fit in the oven?

Shosh and Gav decided that they would like a three tier cake made up of three different varieties – fruit, lemon and chocolate. Plus two ‘satellite cakes’. Satellite cakes you make ask? For those of you who don’t know what they are (and I must admit I had not heard the expression before): if it is doubtful that the cake you are making may not serve everyone at the reception - plus the little boxes for those who couldn’t make it - you can get round it by making:

A) a large slab cake which is kept in the kitchen of the venue to be cut into slices behind the scenes, or

B) a satellite cake which sits on the table alongside the wedding cake and is similarly decorated.

So we plumped for two ‘top tier’ tiny fruit cakes as our orbital additions.

Fruit cake – easy peasy – years of making Christmas cakes and I can almost make those with my eyes shut. Lemon cake and chocolate cake however not so easy – the trials I made were fairly successful; taste-wise they were OK, but the lemon was a bit soggy and the chocolate cake exploded when I tried to slice it into layers. The task of cutting a large cake into three different layers in order to fill with buttercream is a tad tricky. Apart from trying to keep the knife as straight as possible as you are cutting, there is the added problem of lifting the layers off without them destroying themselves.

Anyway, as I write this on Monday, the second tier is cooking and the whole lower floor of the house is filled with the aromatic scent of lemon. Later it will be the turn of the bottom tier and the accompanying - somewhat sickly - sight of a large saucepan full of melted chocolate and butter (Homer Simpson would be licking his lips at the thought I would imagine)!

Tomorrow it will be the turn of the lemon buttercream and the chocolate ganache (posh word for buttercream but it sounds very sophisticated!). Then it will be the delicate job of packing them very carefully in cake boxes to transport up and across to Lincolnshire on Wednesday with the aid of a cool bag and ice blocks! Let us hope it is not a really hot day for travelling or all could be lost.

I have warned my mother that I will be taking over her kitchen once Jon and I arrive at her abode on Wednesday. I hope she doesn’t mind too much – I know from experience that a kitchen is the most sacred room in the house for some females – me included.

Well.... that is it from Fanny Cradock (which means Jon must be Johnnie!) for now. I will let you know how my mum, Shosh, Olivia and I get on with our attempts at being florists for the day - we are making a bride bouquet, three bridesmaid bouquets, one flower girl posy and quite a few buttonholes on Thursday!

It all looks so easy on YouTube!

Now I know who ate Nessie!

A catchy headline but not the infamous Nessie of course, merely our very own potato head Nessie, found by me in our vegetable rack and displayed – quite dashingly - by Max as written about earlier on Jon’s blog. Her demise came at the hands – or teeth – of a family of capybara (Hydrochoerus hydrochaeris) at Paignton Zoo and we have photos to prove it!

David (born Twycross Zoo in March 2008) and Davina (born Chessington Zoo in October 2008) both arrived at Paignton Zoo in 2009. Born on 18th August this year, this youngster is their first offspring and is so far un-sexed. Sometimes known as the giant guinea pig, capybaras are the world’s largest rodent and are found in densely forested areas or grassland near bodies of water in much of South America. They can grow up to 1.3 metres in length and like nothing more than to lounge around in swamps and rivers with only their eyes and nostrils breaking the surface. They have slightly webbed toes which help them to swim – they are excellent swimmers and use their ability to survive underwater for up to five minutes as an escape from predators. They can also sleep underwater, keeping their nostrils just above the waterline.

In the wild one of the main parts of their diet is the water hyacinth and to accommodate their growing family, Paignton Zoo’s Garden Department has been growing plants especially for them to eat this year.

Caught in the act!

An adult capybara can eat 6-8 pounds of grasses per day and chews food by grinding back and forth rather than side to side. Similar to a cud-chewing by a cow, they may also regurgitate their food to masticate it again. They also like to eat their own faeces as a source of bacterial gut flora which helps to digest the cellulose in the grass in order to take out the maximum amount of protein from their food.

In the wild they have a lifespan of 4 – 8 years but on average this is less than four years due to them being the favourite food of various predators such as the jaguar, puma, ocelot, eagle and caiman, as well as being the anaconda’s preferred meal.

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the kitchen

Yesterday, a combination of Jon feeling a lot better and a telephone call in the morning telling me that Olivia’s bridesmaid dress was ready for collection spurred Jon and I into adding a trip to Barnstaple to our already planned food shopping trip to Bideford.

The error of my ways in having a last cup of coffee before we left home dawned on me once we had parked in Barnstaple. I had noticed as we drove in to the car park that there were signs for ladies, disabled etc so once I had picked up the dress I headed towards these signs of personal comfort. Much to my embarrassment, and my bladder’s frustration, I realised that the signs were in fact the usual designated areas for disabled, and mother and child car parking! Somehow, in my mind’s eye, I had substituted the child for a stick man and had assumed the completely wrong thing. What a klutz - my need had completely clouded my vision and whilst excited at the prospect of alleviating my urgency, I had to disappoint my bladder into having to wait longer.

Its selfish demands were complied with at the next stop however, and here I shall finish the tale about my body’s lack of timing.

A few hours later, we returned home and unpacked the car. The first thing I removed from the back seat was the most valuable of all – the dress. It had been packed for transport in a large zip-up bag but I wanted to get it hanging properly as soon as possible so headed for the washing line that hangs over the Raeburn. Old fashioned we are here – the kitchen is reminiscent of a scene from Upstairs Downstairs in some ways.

What occurred next could have been a scene from any slapstick comedy. Jon was just taking off his jacket as I approached from behind – well not so much from behind as I was about level with him. As he swung his left arm to remove it from the sleeve I was just on the point of passing him and I got a slap round the kisser for my trouble. If the sketch had followed as it should have done, I suppose I should have fallen over backwards, lost the grip on the dress and dropped that in the dog’s water bowl whilst flailing around with my other arm and pulling everything off the dresser in a bid to stop my descent, whereupon the vicar would have entered and Jon would have exclaimed “Oo er, it’s the vicar”. However, I was gallant and ignored the ‘assault’ and continued my way to the washing line to hang up the prize.

Poor Jon was distraught at the thought of attacking his wife. I just laughed and poked him with the walking stick in retaliation.

Later on I splattered the kitchen with beetroot juice and made beetroot and coconut soup (a combination that may sound odd, but it is very tasty). And it was after serving that that the kitchen was the scene for another strange occurrence. I had served everything up and had taken Jon his dish of soup, before eating mine. When I returned to the kitchen with the dirty crocks Biggles was staring at the dresser with ears up and head cocked first to one side and then the other. Hmmm I thought. Then there was a rattling from the bottom cupboard and he looked even more alarmed. Had the house poltergeist decided to throw my plates and dishes around now? Biggles seemed convinced that something odd was occurring in the dresser but then I had an idea (up popped that lightbulb). And I opened the right hand cupboard door – nothing. Then I opened the left hand door and eureka. There was the cause of the rattling. None other than....Spider the orange cat. I have no idea how and when he had gone in there to investigate a cosy place to park his bones, but he was ousted pretty darn quick and scolded for his audacity in no uncertain terms.

Trumpets abound, parades are rife....it's..............

Jon’s birthday!

Huzzah!

Happy Birthday!

And here is a picture of birthday boy himself, doing an impression of a gnome on a toadstool, complete with rather dubious looking stain on the wall. I hadn't realised Biggles had sneaked into the village hall last Saturday! What a clever boy to act out the first two lines of the last verse of Lindisfarne's Fog on the Tyne (to spell it out for those who have no idea what I am talking about, if my subtlety was a wee bit too subtle!)

And off we go again.....

Oh my......it seems that our little pussy is spitting fur balls again. It appears that the little puss is not only elusive but arrogant as well. It seems that any time anyone writes anything that does not necessarily support its spluttering, it assumes that they are automatically ‘CFZ supporters’. Has it not the humility to contemplate that a comment made against its fur ball coughing may actually be from a member of the human race who - just simply - does not adhere to its outbursts? They do not have to be ‘CFZ supporters’, you know puss...there is rather a large population out there that does not support the CFZ just like there are those that do not support Bigfoot organisations, the Tory party, banning the hunt, BCIB, and so on and so forth. Believe it or not, pussies are not high on many people’s agendas and likewise neither is cryptozoology.

And by the way – when does sharing discoveries amongst those other researchers that are involved in such matters turn into a ploy for getting them to pay for something? How do the mechanics of that work exactly? These days scientists across the world share information – it does not mean they are being asked to pay for something – and, what is more, it also does not mean that they have to join in on the research either. They have the choice to politely decline for whatever reasons they may have, but they shouldn’t really bad-mouth the people who politely offer to share. But then, I presume that those who were not invited would have puss speaking on their behalf with accusations of exclusion from the research.

“Many independant [sic] groups over the years have worked with the CFZ . Very few, if any, continue to do so today.” That is an interesting statement – perhaps puss could name those to whom it refers, along with the reasons for them no longer wishing so to do – I would be very interested to hear these details. And please let us hope that puss does not decline so to do, for that would be a very predictable action to not back up such broad accusations.

I was only aware, by the way, of one person mentioning legal action, but your phrasing tends to imply that more than one has warned of such. But you do seem to enjoy fluffing up your accusations by adding an extra ‘s’ here and there. Does it go towards making your chest puff out perhaps with more of that self-gratifying hot air? Does it bolster your over-inflated ego so you think you are more like the big stripey puss in your name than the little Highland puss?

Pussycat of the Highlands, whilst you sit back with a face that looks as if you have stolen the cream thinking that you are so clever and untouchable, remember that the bigger those fur balls become the more you are in danger of choking yourself.

Now to the rest of this rant.

To Mr Shaun Stevens: “The guy is sadly an eccentric self publicist, who wouldn't have a had single thing published if it wasn't for the wonderful world of vanity presses.” Firstly, you are incorrect in the first part of your statement due to the fact that Jon has had many things published which have not been under the CFZ Press heading. And secondly you really should look up the meaning of ‘vanity press’ before you start accusing people of using such a method of publishing. Or are you trying to be clever with the English language? Ah, times have changed since you, Jon and I sat in the pub at Watchet after the BCIB conference that was hosted at Tropiquaria. A conference that was hosted by Jon (to help BCIB out) when Mr Fraser became ill with a bad back. Which then led on to the fact that Mr Moiser was keen to hold an annual big cat conference there in the future too. Hey presto, that then, of course, was twisted around too wasn’t it, to infer that Jon was trying to take over the BCIB? Why was that? Because it was a relative success where others have not been? Who really cares.
To Mr Mark Fraser: “And the fact of the matter is I cut ties with the CFZ because you allowed the nonsensical attacks on British Big cat researchers, and that’s the truth as you know it. But you cannot admit it.” Erm do you actually confirm that we do not censor our blogs now? Wow! Admit it, you do not like Neil Arnold so anything written by him is subject to hostility by you. You silly little man.

“Why we want to get involved in your research is beyond me, you need to pay for this yourself not get others to pay for it.” As mentioned above, since when did Jon ask you to pay for anything? I cannot find any record of that occurring. Please direct me to this request. Or is it a case of: “Truth of the matter is you are twisting things again” as you so ineptly put it in accusing Jon?

BIG CATS IN BRITAIN? OK we could have said it another way I suppose: LARGE FELINES IN THE UK or ENORMOUS FELIDS IN THE SOUTH OF THE UK or ..... well the list goes on undoubtedly, but quite simply BIG CATS IN BRITAIN is really the most obvious thing to write and it is purely a coincidence that your organisation’s name has used the most obvious words. But, there you go. You are a bit paranoid Mr. Fraser aren’t you? Now why is that?

“Instead of getting annoyed, I am seriously wondering about his health, and beginning to feel sorry for the man.” Gosh that is nice of you Mr Fraser. Jon is actually quite seriously ill but refuses to give up and lie around in bed like some with his illnesses would. Thanks for the show of concern. I am sure it warms the cockles of his heart to hear such sentiments.

Well it is Sunday. So here endeth the first lesson. And it is by no means the last.

If you go down to the woods today......

After all that preparation and angst, the Weird Weekend is now done and dusted for another year. And, what is more, with the help of that special brand of washing up liquid that is manufactured for those ‘hands that do dishes’, I have a pair that are as soft as my face due to the mammoth washing up operation after the cocktail party on Thursday night so it can’t all be bad.

Old friends were welcomed back and new friendships were made. And, of course, the weekend was fuelled with the excitement of the discovery of leopard hairs in the local woods. Lars Thomas and the Danish TV crew (Margit, Linus and Michael) are still here finishing off their project with Lars and it has been lovely to have them.here doing this.

The ladies who prepared all the meals at the Community Centre did a marvellous job feeding us all again and we thank them all very much for their hard work. Sunday turned out to be a hot day and the kitchens must have been extremely uncomfortable to work in and we much appreciate their efforts.

Anyway, to take the subject away from the last weekend, so much was going on that I never introduced you to the new addition to the ‘family’ that Max brought down with him on Monday – a late birthday present from Jon and him. So here is a picture of Mog the cane toad who loves nothing more than to sit in her flower pot or her own private swimming pool. Not the usual run of the mill creature to share your dining room table with I am sure you will agree. What is more, the ever-present look of wisdom upon her face does seem to infer that a conversation on the writings of Pliny may well be more up her street than a run-down of the shenanigans that took place in the recent episode of Coronation Street.

So... life will soon return to normal here at CFZ HQ - whatever normal is - but preparations are, as usual, already under way for next year's event. And we haven't even put everything away in its proper place yet.

Ah well.......