Wednesday 2 November 2016

Coping

Hello, thank you for your patience, for your kind thoughts and your condolences, all very much appreciated.  September and October were very difficult months: two family deaths in September, both long lives lived well but suddenly gone, during which I worked for three weeks under a redundancy notice which was rescinded with five days to go.  "Phew!" I thought - my job is part-time but I love it and the meagre wages have made a big difference, so those weeks were stressful.  We spent the first half of October in that terrible limbo between death and funeral and to be honest, we didn't feel much better afterwards.  We live almost two hundred miles away from the rest of the Best Beloved's family and the inherent communication problems make things difficult.  There seems to be quite a lot of treading on eggshells. 

Last week was half term week so we went to Guernsey for five days with The Teacher and Flashman to see The Mathematician, who is working there for her university placement year.  The break and the time together did us all the power of good...although while we were there, my employer went into liquidation and the Best Beloved's school decided that they don't need him back, so we both became unemployed on the same day.  My employer owes me six weeks' wages and I might receive them before Christmas, or I might not.  Thank goodness for duty-free gin.
 
So, here we are back home.  The agency found some work for the Best Beloved on Monday and he is now booked up for the rest of this term - hurrah!  The trees are dressed in my favourite autumn colours and I can see lots of them from my windows - hurrah!  The sun is shining in a  blue sky with white fluffy clouds - hurrah!  I am taking deep breaths and trying to gently unwind the tightened ball of grief and anxiety I have become.
 
Yesterday, this involved a session of homely, old-fashioned, domestic cooking.  I made cottage pie for dinner - is it the ultimate comfort food? - and cooked enough mince for a couple more, now stashed away in the freezer.  I put the remnants of a chicken carcass in a pot with onion, carrot, peppercorns and herbs, covered it with water and simmered it for two hours.  At the end of that time, I lifted the lid and there it was: the smell of my parents' kitchen, the nostalgic smell of home.  My parents always made stock with a chicken or turkey carcass and then used it to make a homely soup with vegetables and lentils.  When I was first married I did the same, but soon discovered that the Best Beloved only really liked soup if it came out of a tin (57 varieties) so there seemed little point, and once The Teacher became vegetarian when she was nine years old there was no point at all.  Any need I had for chicken stock was satisfied by a cube (which, of course, is not the same thing).
 
So this is the first time I have made chicken stock for many years.  Recently, the Best Beloved has discovered a liking for chilled tubs of soup from the supermarket and he expressed a willingness to give my homemade soup a try, so tonight was the night.  I finely chopped an onion and a carrot, softened them in a smidgen of butter, added a handful of red lentils and the precious stock, added herbs and seasoning and let it all simmer for twenty-five minutes before adding the chicken I had stripped from the carcass. 
 
 
 
 
Gentle readers, I have to tell you that it was...a triumph.  The Best Beloved said that it was "really nice", which is as complimentary as he gets, and he pointed out that it is the third meal we have had from the chicken - roast on Sunday, sauted with vegetables and rice on Monday, soup today - which thriftiness is immensely satisfying.  That soup was delicious, nurturing body and soul.  Slowly, I am unwinding.
 
I'll be back soon to tell you about Guernsey.
 
Love, Mrs Tiggywinkle x
 

22 comments:

  1. Ah Tiggy that is such a lot of stuff to be dealing with, soup can only really touch the surface. Well done though on the change of taste for your man. Love Jo xx

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    1. Thanks Jo. It does only touch the surface, but it's a start, albeit a small one. Baby steps. x

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  2. You have been through the mill, hope things start getting better for you. Homemade soup is so good, canned soup always tastes salty to me.

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    1. Thanks Janet. I think that once you've tasted homemade soup, it spoils you for canned. I could never go back! x

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  3. You have been through the mill, hope things start getting better for you. Homemade soup is so good, canned soup always tastes salty to me.

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  4. Where has the year gone? It's not been great for you but at least you've been to Guernsey, looking forward to hearing about it. x

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    1. I know, I can't believe how quickly this year has passed. It only seems a few weeks since mother-in-law died, yet it's eleven months now. Guernsey post is on it's way. x

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  5. What a lot of heartache and uncertainty to deal with all at once. My heart goes out to you. Gentle domesticity is a lovely way to unwind. So glad the BB liked the soup.

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    1. Thanks Lorrie. "Gentle domesticity" is exactly the phrase I was searching for but couldn't find! It does feel just right just now. x

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  6. Big Hugs to you Tiggy! I know what it is to deal with a death and then with family afterwards. My family kind of unraveled and have never been the same. Grief is a tricky business, but I think you have found some special comfort in that lovely soup. I turn to making a special meal when we hit rough patches, and making them from scratch is always soothing. I'm so glad your Best Beloved got a new position right away. I'm sure something that is meant just for you is waiting around the corner. I'm glad you were able to get away for a bit to shake off all these worries. Take care,
    Wendy xox

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    1. Thanks Wendy. I have found it very soothing to be in the kitchen this week but the grief is never very far away. I am hanging on to the hope that things will get better. x

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  7. Sending you a hug. You certainly are dealing with a lot at the moment, Love the sound of your soup, always cheering to make your own. Take care.

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    1. Thank you - you are so thoughtful, and you have had your own share of sadness recently. x

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  8. Personally I think home made soup is the ultimate comfort food. Well done on the chicken stock. I always make stock, reduce it down and freeze it in ice cube trays. Then I use my own 'stock cubes' whenever I need a bit of extra flavour in something. Makes a big difference.

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    1. I hadn't thought of that - thank you, it's a brilliant idea! I'm off to find the ice cube trays (although they might taste a bit funny in the Christmas gin and tonics!). x

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  9. The soup looks delicious and very comforting. I sympathise with what you have been going through lately. September and October were bad months for us too as we had a sudden and unexpected death in the family which knocked us for six and left us in limbo whilst waiting on post mortems and coroners reports plus the loss of a beloved cat which we had loved for 20 years. I also know what it is like to have the uncertainty of redundancy hovering in the background and having it happen to my husband twice over the years, you have had so much to bear lately, my thoughts are with you. Take care:)

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    1. Thanks Rosie, you are very kind, I have been thinking about you. The sooner this year is over, the better. Sending a hug. x

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  10. Home-made soup is the ultimate comfort food and soothes the weary heart and soul. Sweet memories always accompany home-made cooking and it is wonderful that these came to you and eased your grief. I am happy to hear that you are both still gainfully employed and taking time to spend with your dear children. Gathering together brings sweet new memories and joy in your difficult time. Sending encouraging hugs xx Karen

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    1. Thanks Karen. I think you are right, hunkering together as a family seems the only thing to do at these times. x

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  11. Take good care of yourself and enjoy the comfort and nourishment of that lovely chicken soup. Marie x

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    1. Thanks Marie. I think it's on the cards again this week, it was SO comforting. x

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  12. I am just catching up on some blog reading and was so sorry to hear your news. Isn't the power of smell remarkable? Especially when it reminds us so much of people and places. Sending love and hugs to you and your family xx

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