On 3rd February 2008 . . .

. . . I posted this revelatory Musing.

So it will not come as any surprise to learn that, today, while the 4 (for the very last time!) remains in place, the 8 has lurched forward to become 9. Eeeek!

For the benefit of my considerably younger readers, let me simply say that, although this might seem an unfeasibly large number of years to have been in existence - and despite the externals daily adopting an ever more, erm, 'lived-in' appearance - on the inside, let me assure you, we Persons of a Certain Age remain as youthful and skittish as ever. As full of uncertainty and wondering what will become of us when we are Grown Up as we were at 19 or 29. And as lacking in wisdom and prey to the whims of our hormones as you are!

So there!

Quite when maturity and wisdom do kick in on this journey through life, I've yet to discover. Maybe the big Five O will do the trick at last? Perhaps those of my readers who are slightly ahead of me along the road will advise.

Suffice to reiterate the strange truth alluded to last year: that despite having been subjected to all the usual grinding wear and tear(s) of life, loves, work and parenthood, I don't feel anything like old enough to be in the final year of my first half-century. Absolutely and categorically not. How can things get so out of kilter? I've no idea.

Since Tuesdays are pretty busy on the family front, with early school buses to be caught and after-school music lessons and masses of homework, etc etc, I decided to wind the clock forward (or was it back?) and celebrate in a very modest way on Sunday afternoon instead.

So Sunday morning was Baking Day for SD#3 and me. SD#3 is my little cake-making soulmate - oh how she loves all the mixing and stirring and tasting and the wondrous oveny alchemy that transforms damp colourless splodge into fragrant, golden-brown (or as she has wittily dubbed it, 'Gordon-Brown') delicious sponginess. That's my girl.

'Do you think we should check whether it's Gordon Brown yet?', she asks, falling off the stool with self-induced laughter (which, as we all know, is the most uncontrollable kind of all). 'Yup, it's nicely Gordon Brown, let's take it out now and make the icing.'


We made a coffee cake to stick the token candle in. Decorations by SD#3.

And some flapjacks, because we are all completely wild about oats here.

And a Sticky Lime and Coconut cake from M's fabulous recipe on Random Distractions. Something went a teensy bit wrong and it sank a bit in the middle (though it wasn't burnt around the edges as this very poor photo might suggest) and was subsequently a little too well drenched in the sticky-making syrupy liquid. And served while still warmish and soft. So nul points for aesthetics (oh, and the ad-libbed lime rind on top was a bad idea too - although it looked quite pretty!) . . . but ooooh, it was supremely delicious and disappeared astonishingly quickly. More of a pudding than a cake, which it isn't supposed to be. But I will have another go soon, and I do urge cake fiends everywhere to try it (quickly, before Lent is upon us!)

Some dear friends came round, and I was presented with some fabulous hand-made cards, masses of flowering plants for indoors and out, some garden tools, a mop (! ahem! thanks!), a beautiful hand-made velvet brooch, some very nice chocs and this optimum-size tea cup.

I am notorious for my ability to down several gallons of tea in a day. And for my urgent need to drink tea post-eating, post-walking, post-sleeping, post-just about everything. So this one was not so very far off the mark. Unfortunately, it has a hole in the bottom, because it's supposed to be employed as an amusing plant-pot holder. But I think it looks much better as fruit bowl.

So, that was Sunday. And that was supposed to be that. (Apart from an evening's entertainment on Monday, which was sadly scuppered by the weather conditions, ho hum.) So today was going to be a normal working day for me. Heaven knows, I had more than enough work to be getting on with. But it didn't turn out quite that way, and there were a number of wonderful surprises. Not least amongst them the lovely friends who whisked me off unexpectedly to lunch at Mersea's excellent Oyster Bar. (Thank you so much xxxxx!)

The Oyster Bar is a relatively recent addition to the select list of eating establishments on the island, but a most welcome one. Its name belies the fact that it serves every kind of seafood, from shellfish to skate to a vastly superior version of yer common or garden fish 'n' chips.


So there's something for everyone. The seafood platter is loaded with every conceivable delight, from smoked salmon and mackerel to several varieties of shellfish, and a dressed crab on top. The scallops are stonkingly huge and delicious and - my standard favourite and not disappointing in any way for the umpteenth time - the crab linguine with mango and lime is simply divine and, spirit of adventure notwithstanding, will be my choice next time as well. And the time after that. And . . . probably every visit from now until I drop. Please accept this as the warmest recommendation and try it for yourself when you visit the Muddy Island. As indeed you must.

We walked off our fishy excesses with a stroll on TBTA (with a rugby ball for those whose school remained closed owing to 'bad weather'). Here, only the faintest evidence of the previous day's snow remained in evidence.

The sky was blue, the sunlight warm and golden, the early morning black ice thankfully evaporated. Hard to believe that a 'major snow event' had occurred only 24 hours previously.

I've been at my desk most of the evening, catching up with work, but I don't regret that one little bit. Thanks to everyone who's helped to make 3.2.09 an unexpectedly memorable day.