zigne and ztina update

A few days later they're slightly more active, meows excitingly when you peek over the wooden crate - I've put beside the sofa in the living room so they're still in the middle of where most of the action in this house takes place - try to run on wobbly legs, squeak, purr when being cuddled, react on the environment - even if granted they still mostly sleep and eat, weighing almost 300 grams each now - generally being über-adorable as kittens tend to be. Especially British Shorthair kittens with their teddybearesque appearance.

So far I've found that Zigne, the readhead is a bit more curious and relaxed when being carried around and cuddled with. She adores kisses and snuggles and even watched television sitting in my hand the other day - needless to say, that was one of those I'm speechless-with-cuteness moments - Ztina, the colourpoint, seems to prefer the comfort of the cushioned crate still. She isn't as photogenique as Zigne. Yet. So the cuteness overload of this post will be mostly about one fabulous li'l readhead. In her skew-eyed phase. Enjoy.

Dad Pelle, being a very modern dad, does help - because yes, sadly Rutger is not the father, Pelle is. Which is very much not what I had in clever mind... ah well, life. Rutger actually got neutered today and have moved to my mother who also has Rutger's brother Rupert and their mum Greta. Where I think he'll have a much more satisfying and happy life from now on compared to the one he'd have here having to be re-introduced into the cat clan. My experience is that that's far from a smooth procedure. At my mother's he'll be spoilt, get to sleep in her bed and rekindle with brother and mum - watch over them and clean them a bit.

'Yes I am a girl, and a very clean one at that'

In answer to a question I got on how I come up with their names, after my prefix, which is Luddkolt's (from an adorable children's book I read as a child, translates into something like Fluffy chubby, perfect prefix for British shorthairs!) I give them names in alphabetical order with a first name that I enjoy, preferably quirky and if possible with a name day in the Swedish calender - though I love Scottish and British names like Hamish, Donald, Chester, Ermyntrude, Prunella, Prudence, Pudge etc - 

'It is indeed tiring being this cute'

and then a surname which is the name of a British, Scottish or Welsh castle, mansion or house of historic importance with the same initial as the first name. Preferably one we've visited. Stina and Signe, common Swedish names, are spelled with S, but with this being the Z-litter, Ztina and Zigne it is. There are no castles beginning with letter Z, so they get S-castles/mansions/historical houses instead (like their mum being Siri Sissinghurst). Hence Ztina Sezincote and Zigne Shandy - from Shandy Hall, in Yorkshire's Coxwold, where "Tristram Shandy" was written. Loved the movie, have been to pretty Coxwold - hey presto, we have perfect names! For perfect kittens.

from fortune to unfortunate, but looks ain't everything

A while ago I was the fortunate recipient of a tea related blog give away. The package I recieved contained a sweet cup and saucer, teabags from one of my favourite tea merchants, Taylors of Harrogate, and a teapot shaped cookie cutter (thank you kind Xtiand!).

As Swedish as ginger snaps may be, they aren't my favourite to neither ate nor bake (but I do love the Christmassy wintry smell of them baking). However such a fine cookie cutter needs work and with a roll of dough from favourite café - bakery Gamla Enskede Bageri, what can go wrong? So from baking interrupted, ginger snaps where to be baked!

I'm still not sure what and why it did go so horribly wrong, but terribly so it went. The ginger snaps that went into oven (after the dought being of the uttermost un-cooperative kind) looked disturbed, the scent of baking smelled more borderline rancid than Christmassy, and the snaps that appeared after some time in oven looked like distressed hobbledehoys. Maybe the birds would like?

But I did the brave thing and tasted a little piece. It tasted alright. More than alright, rather nice actually. Spicy and not too sweet, way better than the average supermarket stuff and a lot better than most ginger snap things found in bakeries. They may look very unfortunate, but the tastebuds give all thumbs up. And look, some snaps actually do look like teapots (the cookie cutter was great).

Next time I may make the dough by self and from scratch. Because who am I to deny cookie cutter it's life mission.

the death of dalziel

I've always considered Reginald Hill's books about stablemates Yorkshire police officers Dalziel and Pascoe to be for the discerning reader, they are cleverly woven suspense novels, intriguing plots, witty and intellectual. And the setting in Yorkshire is of course an extra plus.

"The Death of Dalziel" is the 13th book about Dalziel and Pascoe I've read - some in English some in Swedish translation, and oddly enough I prefer them in Swedish since I believe that the translator, with exception of one book, makes a great job in carving some extra life and personality into the characters compared to the original text. Oddly enough that is. And despite the annoying fact that the Swedish translations don't include all the books and being published in not always chronological order -

and I think the last couple or so of the books have been strangely void of engagement and somehow long winding for longwindingness sake. I don't know if it's the writing or if it's I who have changed. Hence a new Dalziel & Pascoe book, sadly, doesn't feel like the-must-read it has been for me.

I am looking forward to read "The Stranger House" though, because I do adore Hill's writing and maybe it's just Dalziel and Pascoe who has gone tired and unengaged.

Do you have a favourite crime fiction writer? Who is it and why?

eating out - the plough inn, yorkshire, england

Time to share some mouthwatering memories of a place we keep returning to whenever we find ourselves in the vicinity of York, Yorkshire - which is far too seldom if you ask me, and of course you are - the pub The Plough Inn in Allerthorpe.

The place - busy but friendly -, the village, the table by the street overlooking quaint houses, a village hall with a lovely blue door and impressively large trees that are always jam packed with chirping invisible to the eyes wee birds, early evening, sunsettish, waiting for the food just ordered enjoying a decent cider... that's relaxation, just perfectly being in the there and then. The best kind of holiday imaginable has begun.

: Hey, little chirpers :

And as with most British pubs there's a pleasing amount of vegetarian choices on the menu. This mushroom Stroganoff with veggies on the side was quite lovely. And so was the dessert - one which I had remembered fondly for some years since the previous visit, gosh, was it the perfect ending to the meal to find it still being on the menu, or what! - butterscotch cheesecake. Simply heavenly melt on your tongue delicious.

If you find yourself in the vicinity of Allerthorpe, please stop by, say hallo to the chirping birdies, the blue door and give my fondest regards to the vegetarian side of the menu. Especially one cheesecake named butterscotch.

One Yorkshire Garden

Right now it's no where near that last weekend pretty winter wonderland around here. From what once was pretty in white made for walk in the woods is now grey slush. So instead of feeling miserable about that I'll look back at one rather lovely garden in Yorkshire - my favourite part of England, since Scotland is Scotland so well in itself - where we stayed at a farm B&B last year.

It was unbelievably well kept and almost too pristine, though with unexpected and charming details here and there, and I'm sure it must have been almost a full time job keeping it like that. Very enjoyable, gorgeously colourful and in parts inspirational, but also very far from my own talents or aspirations for sure. Enough said, now enjoy some glimpses of the the lavish lush flowery times to come and have a good weekend ~