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Tagged Bulk olive oil
Does cold affect olive oil?
Does cold affect olive oil? No.
At this time of year lots of customers order new harvest olive oil from us for winter feasts – for dipping bread, drizzling onto steamed vegetables or fish, onto poached eggs, there are so many lovely ways to use it, enjoying the flavour and goodness.
But because of the colder temperatures in the UK and northern Europe your new harvest olive oil may have formed into white clouds or clumps in transit. This is absolutely normal.
This does not, we stress, affect the quality of your olive oil at all and it will clear at normal room temperature.
Ideally, buy fresh olive oil in a larger container, keep this in a cool place out of direct sunlight, and decant what you need into a 250ml or 500ml dispenser to place at the heart of your table for every meal.
We happily leave our oil on the cold pantry floor until we are ready to enjoy it.
A new shipment is now on the way, so why not try some?
The importance of the Seventh Generation
It is early. Another peaceful December day of edifying treasures begins. Golden light gushes through the mountain pines and kindles the silver haw frost. All glitters in a breath of beauty, even the battered wheelbarrow waiting beside the wood store.
Birds charm the blue sky. The last of the fig leaves begin to fall from boughs, followed by random pearls as the sharpness of sunrise quickly melts to green and brown.
All good things pass. But not hope. There is so much nourishment for the senses and spirit when I remember I am a human beings and should, well, simple just BE once in a while.
Suddenly, so few words left in 2013. Every syllable must count.
All people who live close to the soil have similar hearts, priorities and understandings – a grounding, or need for it, that is seeded in everyone. The similarities overshadow the differences, especially when set beside the memories of our rural English childhoods and those of our parents. I have talked of journeying back in time and it is true.
How lucky we have been to find and be able to share Mother's Garden. We have had more than 1000 visitors now, from all continents.
There is nowhere like nature, and more so any garden which we tend, to offer an immeasurable security in an insecure world; a sense of place. However tiny, even a crowd of pots or a single yard of soil, can hold the truths, lessons, fulfilments, beauty and peace of mind to infuse life with an indefinable calm, a measure of existence.
This has been my home for nigh on a quarter of my life now. Goodness.
What more have we found here beyond perspective? I always say, simply, time. How scarce it is. But we have had the years, hours and seconds of Ella's and Joe's childhoods for which, like all, there can never be any going back: the privilege of disconnecting as much as possible – seeking to shield as much as possible – Ella and Joe from the vortex of immoral, de-stablising commercialism until they have had a chance to find their feet, their voices and a real understanding of what happiness should mean; that it does not have a price.
The hope is that in the muddle, shadows and rush of a wider world they will have an inkling of where to stop, breathe and be revived in times of need: To not be afraid to walk along in nature, but be sustained. We dare even to wish they may do more – join the calm, clear voices challenging and pressing to change a system of gross economic obsessions that threatens to suffocate fundamental human values and rob society and its core – the family – of key securities. I firmly believe most people sense this need, deeply.
The native North American Iroquois Indians have a golden rule, a binding law. It is known as the Seventh Generation.
This ancient nation never makes a decision without considering how it will relate to the welfare and well-being of their descendants 140 years in the future.
"What about the Seventh Generation? Where are we taking them? What will they have?"
In the current context it hardly bears thinking about, but that is the point. It has become so critical that most people do feel driven to think about it, to question.
I firmly believe the blind-eye world is coming to an end, driven by the paradox that in an age-of-plenty there is a palpable struggle to survive, and the pit-of-the-stomach knowledge that we are living beyond our physical and mental means, while some people on the beset planet have gross wealth and others starve.
As for the Earth and the Iroquois, imagine that 2000 years ago they or the Romans had cracked the atom and harnessed the power. What would the world look like now? The proliferation of nuclear with its implicit dangers and gross, ageless consequences have not stopped us because we crave the power now and, bottom line, there is money to be made. How have we somehow blanked out that which is unpredictable yet inevitable – violence, be it human, geologic or climatic? It is not and never will be a stable world yet we persist with today not tomorrow.
Forgive me but I have to say these things, as much in hope as anguish. So much good is being discussed
I am writing more than ever now. My four books have been followed by screenplays, and perhaps next year we will be able to tell more of the feature film based on my English novel Count The Petals Of The Moon Daisy, the book I came here to write.
In tandem with Moon Daisy, a project now being co-run by two film companies, winter has seen me begin work on another screenplay – a love story set here among the vineyards, olive groves and mountains of the Priorat in southern Catalonia.
While we continue to consider the following chapters of our lives, we have decided to walk the same path a little longer, opening the cottage to visitors again in 2014 – come and stay why don't you? – while pressing on with our burgeoning fresh olive oil business.
With assistance from friends around the world we now have a business Facebook page, new labels, a revamped website (all comments welcome as we seek to improve it) and more and more customers who appreciate how special fresh extra virgin olive oil can be.
We have even taken a deep breath and sent some wonderfully fresh new harvest oil home to England for Christmas, so get in touch if you would like some. A rare treat.
Must go. We have a young Australian couple staying and helping on the farm and we are clearing some flower beds beside the front door. A beautiful horseshoe whip snake has just emerged out of the front dry-stone wall of the farmhouse to bask in the December sun. Nature could not be more close, or wonderful.
Keep well. Give yourself some time this festive holiday. Think about the Seventh Generation. Happy Christmas from us all here at Mother's Garden, and wishing you and the world a peaceful year ahead.
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Boar, downpours and the perils of late pickings
There is nothing in our gardening library about late-season gleaning being hazardous. Oooooooooooooh that hurts.
The vegetation behind the farmhouse, once an orderly patch of colourful produce, now an all but abandoned knot of wilderness, took its time to clock that winter was pending.
The woody tomato, aubergine, pepper, melon and courgette plants may have keeled over and been swamped with weeds but they refused to give up the ghost. Up until a week ago we were still finding trug-loads of edibles beneath the riot of growth.
I suppose this is hardly surprising given the ludicrous autumn warmth (still 20+ degrees – 68F – most days) and the outpourings of our reformed spring. Until last weekend – more of that mildly moist sojourn in a moment – we'd had no serious rain since May. The reservoir was full though, so we were letting the water run on to the garden in the olive grove at the rate of 1000 litres an hour. That's cheering for the rows of olive trees (which we are harvesting as you read this), but it has landed me in not one but two pickles.
Wild boar scent wet earth and make a beeline for it. What was once a pleasant late-night, star-gazing, 75-metre stroll to the pony corral to give La Petita her hay treat turned into a canter while wearing the alarmed expression of Private Fraser out of Dad's Army.
I normally take the dogs with me but the other night I left it very late, too late. The mutts were snoring and I ventured off on my own. Fool. It was gone midnight. Halfway back to the house there was an angry grunt right beside me and I immediately leapt into action, sprinting to the back door like Usain Bolt.
For some reason the beasts didn't up all the vegetables, so we continued our gleaning despite having precious little space left to store/freeze it.
That, however, has been the least of my worries. The peppers, which were meant to be of the passive variety have cross fertilised and turned aggressive.
A few days ago Maggie had me sitting at the kitchen table facing a large pile of green and red peppers, an empty bowl to my left, another to my right. Now, I'm not impartial to spicy food and can devour the occasional pencil-width, little-finger-length green chilli, so this was clearly a job I should handle. On reflection, maybe "handle" wasn't the right word.
All I had to do was cut a little bit off the end, munch and decide it if was hot (left bowl) or not (right bowl). They also needed to be de-seeded and chopped up ready for the freezer.
It all started promisingly with three sweet peppers and I upped the pace and dropped my guard. Six consecutive sticks of dynamite later I had lost the power of speech…and my eyes were itching.
Yes, I should have worn gloves. No, I shouldn't have rubbed my eyes. And, yes, I should have remembered which bowl was which.
Staggering painful, isn't it, to realise just how long the spice stays on your figures, and how short your memory is when your eyes need a rub? I've been lying awake blinking and sucking air in through my teeth, thinking there must be a way to use the chopped peppers to dissuade the boar.
I need to tell you about the rain. Last Friday we were harvesting olives in our t-shirts. Then on Saturday the world turned upside down and it started snowing….which turned to sleet….which became stair-rod rain…. for 48 hours. Here they measure rainfall in litres per square metre. We have more an 240 litres, which is twenty four centimetres or, in English money, nine and a half inches. Blimey. That said, it is wonderful. The land can breathe, and maybe wild boar in search of soft earth will not swing by so often.
As usual we have failed to get to grips with the unmanageable quantities of benign quinces lying all over the place, but we at least we have not wasted one of the Muscat grapes (juice), and have squirreled vast reserves of walnuts, almonds and hazels. November breakfasts invariably begin with a squidgy ripe persimmon, a rare treat that will come to an end any day now, while another flavour of the month has been the rovello wild mushrooms from the pine forest.
Amid all this plenty there have been shoulder-rounding failures. The English runner beans feast never happened. Well, four pods to be precise. Despite our care and the favourable conditions only two of the 20 verdant, cane-high plants managed a flower apiece. What went wrong there? Answers on a postcard…..
We continue to pointlessly pluck innumerable cabbage white caterpillars from the ravaged cauliflowers, but we simply knelt and wondered at the swallowtail caterpillar Joe found on a fennel stalk. An observant lad, our Joe. His appreciation of the true world order rather than just the manufactured one is, for us, an essential counter-balance to the lure of comatose electronics.
Question – how many of you are aware of the new and vital Wild Network in the UK? We are supporting from afar. It is the wonderful harmonising of 400 charities and organisations nationwide who are chorusing for children to swap 30 minutes of television and computer screens every day to try and re-connect with nature; to raise their fitness, their alertness and, ultimately, their well-being.
Hal-le-lu-jah. You know how strongly we feel about this, having written in my books and in this newspaper that it is one of the fundamental reasons we moved to Mother's Garden 13 years ago, when we ditched the TV and began leaving the back and front doors of our new home wide open.
I don't know how anybody can fail to see the worth of the Wild Network. In a mad, economy-crazed world any galvanising movement to sell the idea that the great outdoors is the ultimate adventure is long overdue.
Beyond the awful thought that, somehow, children who are far more interested in "leading" fictional, sedentary lives in some surreal on-screen game are losing the life drivers of communication, energy, curiosity and true fulfilment, is the damning fact that this torpid generation will have a shorter life expectancy than their parents.
Our generation is responsible. We have to find a way to, literally, reverse this disconnection.
See for yourself and – watch the short video online http://projectwildthing.com/film or see if you can source the full video on this website or through a local DVD outlet. Add your voice.
Ella has been home from London for few days, her first break since starting a film foundation course at The University of The Arts. We walked the valley and meandered down to deserted, dreamily peaceful beach a stone's throw from artist Juan Miro's farm; a world away from the rigours of our land and, indeed, the crowded banks of the Thames. Actually, it rather reminded me of treasured autumnal, pastel days of my youth, living within the sound of the North Sea – those still moments on the shiny sand when the world seems to hold it breath.
But before I go I have to tell you what we saw on Maggie's recent birthday. We had lunch out after visiting Santes Creus, the vast, significant and rather beautiful Cistercian 12th century monastery about an hour from us.
The restaurant was buzzing and Joe was particularly impressed by a large, opulent Cadillac parked outside. We left at the same time as the car's elderly owner who was being waved off my all the members of staff. Curious, I asked if the gentleman was significant in some way. Yes, they replied. He's 90 years old.
He surged away and we followed him down the lane at a safe distance, watching the weaving Cadillac as it headed for the motorway. Then I started to weave too. The road was a mess of patches and dips and he was inch perfect in navigating through them. Had I been wearing a hat…..
We now have a business Facebook page with almost daily updates and photographs from the farm. Check it out. https://www.facebook.com/mothersgardenoliveoil. The new harvest olive oil is leaving the mill next week, bound for England. 60 per cent has already been ordered, so get in touch is you would like some.
Keep well.
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Why we need to be in the garden
We can and must lose ourselves in our gardens, however small. We need to once in a while, don't we? To scatter our thoughts there; grounded in the toil; safe in the sanctuary; fortified by a sense of what is real; certain in the immeasurable worth to both body and soul.
I appreciate that more than ever now, as seasons and years shorten.
For some there is deep science in it. For most it is it is simply the unfathomable comfort of bending to the task with the ever-renewing, yet never repetitive, promise of flower, fruit, root and goodness, and in doing so touching the earth and being enriched by a sense of place.
And what about those delicious moments of tired contentment when you sit or stand and contemplate the progress, however small, even if it is one little pot, one bloom? Fulfilment flows from the fingertips to the heart.
As American environmentalist and writer Jim Nollman says in the opening sentence of his sensitive book Why We Garden, "People often turn to gardening to re-create a bit of paradise within an imperfect world".
It is right and vital that there is somewhere real where we feel able to make positive changes, to take responsibility and to care, to sense our place, our feet and hands on the soil. Such truths are a counter-balance in an information age that fills our minds and feeds our anxieties with cumulative, complex issues sometimes too heavy to bear.
Our little farm is very much an ecological meeting point of nature and need, where wild is wonderful and rightly dominates, and where we try and balance our hungers with a greater need.
We have always tried to tread softly, but is it me, or are the creatures here more accepting of us than ever? Life has been exceptionally abundant – and close – this autumn.
As with the bees and tiny young frogs lined up at the waterline of our old washpool- turned-pond, there is palpable harmony. I tried but failed to get a photograph of one bee sitting on a frog while quenching its thirst.
On my 55th birthday one treat was to sit for half an hour and dangle my feet into the circular reservoir in the company of curious carp, skaters, swallows and dragonflies. One smaller, iridescent blue dragonfly (with more than 5000 species I'm loath to suggest which one) returned repeatedly to settle on my knee.
Often a butterfly, usually one of the swallowtails that grow up on the abundant fennel, will follow me on my travels along the paths, causing me to turn circles. They always make me think of my mother, someone for whom, at raw moments, a trowel was an anchor and nature her sanity.
My birthday butterfly, though, was rarer still. To my wide-eyed astonishment it flashed in front of the car when I was just about to pull onto the lane, where just days before another event was also over in the blink of an eye, the Tour of Spain cycle race.
When I fanned hurried through my butterfly reference book to confirm it was, indeed, a Pasha, I was joyful. I have never seen one of these Mediterranean fritillaries before; maybe on account of there being no strawberry trees for them on the farm. No disrespect to cycle race fans and the racers but that fleeting Pasha moment made my week. Nothing could top that. Or so I thought.
Later, when I was wandering back from the pony's corral, there it was again, only now it was circling me like the swallowtails – large, fast, with telltale flashes of orange at the ends of dark brown wings. It settled on an old hazel. I studied it then hobbled in haste (bruised foot, long story) back to the house to get my camera, daring to hope it would still be there.
It was, flaunting its intricate under-wings and allowing me to get within a metre.
In the late afternoon I took Maggie and Joe to that hazel. A vain hope, but we strolled on along the terrace, Tilly and Ted straining on their leads. It is a regular pre-supper circuit, down to the hollow under the high firs, through the wilderness and out on to the crest of the almond grove, then down the track homeward.
But just beyond the hazel, behind the beehives, Maggie and Joe both let out a cry. I, and Tilly for that matter, had unwittingly stepped over a snake. It lay like a dark stick across a path which, to be fair, is littered with wood. We have had the pleasure on several occasions of studying ladder-back, grass, European whip and Montpelier serpents, including the adder-like local viper, but this one was different.
It had clearly just devoured something large and long, possibly a lizard, and wasn't planning on moving a muscle for some considerable time. So I felt a closer look was a reasonable risk, and this confirmed it was another first – a horseshoe whipsnake, a rare reptile that can grow up to five feet in length.
The pigeons glean on the cropped hay fields and strut about in ludicrous numbers while the peregrines circle.
And at night the boar descend in ever increasing numbers, coming to within 15 metres of our back door this long dry year. The lure is the well-watered vegetable patch in the olive grove, and the wet earth is patterned with hooves, small and broad. The damage is increasing nightly, but they keep skirting the prolific beds and, fortunately, we have almost concluded an enormous tomato, aubergine and pepper harvest.
It is a different story at our neighbours' home, though, where an ingenious network of irrigation pipes, resembling the London tube map and covering an area the size of a football pitch, has been ploughed up by the worm-hungry boar.
Our friends have been away for nearly two months and I gave up some time ago trying to put patch up the damage. The destruction was spreading faster than I could repair it, but the telling moment was when I looked the challenge squarely in the eye.
Returning home from a late supper in town I had to stop right outside our friends' garden…. to allow eight youngsters, about half-grown, and three humongous adults, to saunter across the tarmac and into the flowerbeds. I might as well have turned the engine off it was taking so long. Two of the adults led the way and the third stood in the middle of the lane to usher the brood across. Tusked and intimidating, it was immense, fearless, prehistoric.
One boar can wreak havoc, so I knew there and then I was beaten.
The almonds are harvested, about 100 kilos this year, which is not bad considering some farms have none due to hard frosts during the February flowering. We pick and de-husk them by hand, so it is not a money-making exercise, rather the reverse; just goodness from our Garden.
Now for the olives. Harvest in three weeks and it looks like a bumper year. Have you tried a new harvest from-tree-to-you olive oil? We are taking orders for a December shipment to Britain. Get in touch by all means (just click here) if you would like more information. Also, see our new Mother's Garden business Facebook page.
And, blink, another year has almost gone. That fact could weigh heavily if I dwell on it, so I will step out into the cool air of dawn and do some weeding among our Norfolk runner beans. It is too hot to grow them here in the spring, so Maggie had the bright idea to cultivate them now in the cooler autumn, but it looks like we will only have a handful all the same.
And still, in mid October, the temperature rises to 26 degrees during the day, and no lower than 15 degrees at night. The air is, for the most part, as peaceful as an angel's breath and the colours of autumn leaf and sky beguile.
Keep well.
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October olive oil shipment almost sold out – NEW HARVEST coming soon
Going in a flash – Our October shipment of Mother's Garden extra virgin olive oil has sold at record speed even before it arrives in the UK on Wednesday.
We need to let everyone know that we have already sold out of 5 litre, 2 litre and 20 litre containers.
BUT there are still 20 cases of 6x500ml available, so if anyone would like to reserve a case (special offer £36 for six glass 500ml bottles which make tasty Christmas presents or dinner party gifts) please get in touch. (*£10 delivery charge for orders under £100).
If you wanted a larger container, the good news is we are getting set for harvest in mid November and there will the freshest possible Mother's Garden extra virgin olive oil available in Britain in December. It is vital to pre-order to be sure of your NEW HARVEST olive oil – and if you especially want unfiltered olive oil we also need to know in advance.
So, please get in touch by clicking here and telling us what you need.
We send all best wishes from Mother's Garden, as always. Thank you for helping to spread the wonderful news about fresh premium extra virgin olive oil
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Mother's Garden fresh olive oil prices
Olive Oil – please note that from 1st of April, 2013, the price of our fresh, award-winning, arbequina extra virgin olive oil will be:
£39 for a case of 6x500ml bottles,
£17.50 for 2 litres
£37.50 for 5 litres
£150 for 20 litre bag in box
See our shop to order. More and more people are appreciating fresh olive oil – and our pledge of freshness, quality and provenance.
We are facing increases in production and transport costs, but we will continue to work very hard alongside our fellow village cooperative farmers to bring you the finest olive oil at a sensible price – still for as little at £7.50 a litre. As always we will put the pressing and bottling dates on every container.
Any questions, or if you have large orders (to share with family, friends, through a food cooperative, or if you are a deli or health food shop) then please get in touch before ordering to see how you can save money .
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Two mountains to climb as spring enraptures
The storms have abated. The enraged river has lowered its voice.
Tiny insects, winged flecks of gold dust, sail through evening sunbeams. The shafts of light fan between the budding pear trees while the scent of freshly cut grass swells to meet them. Wild flowers, spring's courtiers, bustle for attention fussed over by bees, and the call of the returning oriol and the drumming of the woodpecker proclaim abundance.
So strong is the beak of the bird that the rhythm rebounds off the mountain ridge, now snow free and sweetened by new growth on the pines. I sit by the talkative water pouring from our Roman aquifer at 1000 litres an hour, faster than it ever has in our 12 years at Mother's Garden.
All is beginning and yet, perhaps, something is about to end.
Why would anyone think of leaving this? Yes, we are. Let me tell you why.
Some of you discerned in my last blob from the Garden that, after spending nearly a quarter of our lives here (and much of those of our children), Maggie and I seemed a little unsettled.
Indeed. We have been facing facts and agree it is time to take another deep breath, another positive stride.
Ella will be at university in England from September. Joe is ready for new challenges too.
And we know that our growing fresh olive oil business in England can flow even faster if we give it more oxygen and cease gasping to fit it in between the increasingly demanding challenges of tending a multi-fruiting organic farm and running a holiday cottage.
How great the fulfilment of bending to the challenge of an ecological existence at an age when we still could bend. How much we have gleaned and stored. But the sheer physical endeavours are unsustainable, naturally, and like all we need to balance truths.
The creep of age is punctuated with stark waypoints, like the dismantling of the long-unsafe tree-house, the suddenly impossible flexibility of seeing the soles of my shoes without taking them off.
And there is another reason to recalibrate. I crave time to write daily, to unburden my cerebral filing cabinet of tales. There is the Norfolk film script Moon Daisy now looking for funding (more next month), with another script and two books in the wings. Maggie, my editor, could not be more supportive.
Plan A: To relinquish this treasure trove of 10 acres and to base ourselves in South Norfolk, buying a smaller olive grove here and returning regularly to tend olives and beehives: to remain members of the cooperative and build on all we have learned and shared.
Plan B: To sell the cottage and half the farm, and keeping the old farmhouse and olive grove as our business base while spending the majority of our time in England, closer to family, renting somewhere, and bandwaggoning the Mother's Garden olive oil message hither and thither.
We shall see what plan comes to fruition. If anyone would like to discuss one or other we would be happy to chat.
It seems now like we are in the eye of the storm, with the troubled waters of decision behind us and the unchartered upheaval ahead. We wait as news spreads, hoping that the right person will appear, appreciative of the magic and wisdom to be found here; someone who will love it.
And now that we are decided there is great optimism and certainty.
Without sadness but with immense gratitude to my family and with brimful fulfilment I see the momentous years everywhere I turn, and feel them; the shadows of tiny children running bare-footed after puppies; splashes of freedom and glee; shouts of adventure from the woodland; harvests of the garden, grove, vineyard and the wild; Maggie planting, pruning and choosing roses for the table, out there until dusk, then standing with me by the back door to feast upon the stars; the weight of my son on my forearm, his fist full of asparagus: And louder than all, the music of innumerable treasured evenings when our kitchen became a dance theatre and forever more the heart of everything that really matters in the precious feeling of this family, this life.
There – my heart thumps at the thought of leaving our kitchen. The head needs to prevail in the ubiquitous human wrestling of standstill wishes with relentless realities.
The immeasurable worth of nature is the most important thing we have learned above all. Seeded in it is sustenance, realistic values and fulfilments, the core roots of family. I make no apology for raising my voice now and in the future about the abject failure and greedy resistance of society's single-minded economic dictators to change course.
Common sense and conscience: we all know what feels wrong, what is unfair, unsustainable, illogical, damaging, hollow and abhorrent. Heaven knows what our children and grandchildren will make of this woeful generation of leaders for not deal with the glaringly obvious home truths.
What will the legacy be?
In rambling to photograph the raging river I paused twice, once to ponder on the significance of the long-deceased Seat 500 on our neighbour's farm, and then again to stare at another mountain we have just climbed.
Ella and Joe have been planning a fund-raising ascent of La Mola, the Snowdonia-sized limestone monolith that watches over us. If that wasn't a great enough endeavour theypledged to their generous £800 Comic Relief sponsors that they would spend the night up there. Mmm.
We have done it now. A rare and unforgettable experience that I will tell you about soon.
Theirs have been relatively wild childhoods, freer than most if you dare to dwell upon the unbelievable pressure applied to the young these days in ways that families cannot hope to protect them from. Bean-counting pedlars who think it is fine to rob them of their innocence and herd them into anxiety-driven consumerism make me so very angry, but not as much as does the system that encourages them.
Sorry. I do this a lot don't I?
On a positive note, I do sense an awakening of public conscience to the destructive, materialistic, blind path along which we have all be led.
Can I leave you with others' wise words? I have just read the allegorical tale The Man Who Planted Trees, by Frenchman Jean Giono (1895-1971). If you don't know it, let me tell you it is of the greatest beauty, something that simply gifts the notion, the hope, that we can renew the whole earth: That in the living force of nature humanity can rediscover the depth and harmony lost in urban life. The edition I hold, one of more than a dozen issued since Vogue first published it in 1953, has the added delicacy of woodcut illustrations by Michael McCurdy.
And then to Adrian Bell. All his books rise in a Pisa pile beside our bed. So much wisdom.
"We clutter the minds and call it knowledge. Why, if a man knew intimately the story of what lies between the soil in his right hand and the flour in his left, he would be splendidly, superbly, educated. In our so-called education we substitute written notes for memory. Notes are dissected bones, memory is alive, imaginative. We cram the youth with facts and figures and take away from the man the one thing needful for his manhood, the power to be alone with himself in nature.
"Britain has many places of wild beauty, and many gentle places of seclusion. He may stand on a height surveying six counties or in a corner of an orchard watching a bird building its nest. It is all one. If that power of vision were held intact through the difficult years from his childhood, he would need but few of those facts as a foundation on which to build a complete life. Multiplicity of materials does not build beauty but babel."
Keep well.
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Aurora's wintry charms
Red in the morning, shepherds' ….TAKE COVER! Clearly something dreadful is brewing. Yet again Aurora, the Roman goddess of the dawn, has set the heavens alight.
Winter's Catalan cocktail can always be relied upon to have a kick to it, with lashings of angostura, but as all seven billion of us know, the weather is going increasingly haywire.
From long before Christmas through to January 6, Dean Martin blared out of the village public address system. "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let it Snow!" I stood and listened next to the ludicrously early flowering pear tree, hat on to protect me from the beating sun, watching our happy host of sparrows hop through the burgeoning grass and boldly steal the chickens' corn from under their beaks.
You don't necessarily want to know this, but day after day – November, December and now into January – the peace, clarity and daytime warmth (circa 12 degrees) of the Priorat mountains continued to beguile like sirens. Is the mantic truth that this is the future? That between the rains in autumn and spring all will be serene?
No. The bite will surely come, late on and deep. Or the goaded planet will store its anger for another season.
Meanwhile we try not to worry about what is brewing. We try to appreciate the moment, these glorious days, the chance to hang winter washing on the line. After all, "Let It Snow" was written in Hollywood in July 1945, when I bet my bottom dollar flakes were few and far between.
Most evenings the black, random line of distant ink-black mountains is backed by the warm glow of sunset. But on January 5 it was an exceptional panorama, as the enchantment flared with celebration. From the far-flung clusters of lights marking the villages there rose fireworks – tiny, colourful flares above a beguiling community in miniature, heralding the arrival of the Three Kings bearing gifts for the Son of God and all the Catalan children.
There is one particular place, on the return journey from town, where this little world is laid out before me. I stopped the car and stared, waiting for another distant burst of happiness. I'd been on a fruitless shopping trip to town where most doors were locked, people were rushing to get ready and the main square was roped off with a 50 metre red carpet befitting the Oscars.
At New Year the children decided we should trek up the land in the dark, to turn off the torches and sit on the brow of the hill and listen to the distant village clock strike midnight. As we waited our eyes adjusted to the gloom and we wondered nervously what the plentiful wild boar were making of our unnatural presence in their nocturnal kingdom. None appeared and neither were there New Year explosions, just the tolling of the bell. Given the general tightening of belts, the villagers were obviously keeping their powder dry for January 5.
On the first day of the year we celebrated with a feast among friends at the always warm and welcoming home of Conchita and Mac.
So what will the new year hold? The fresh olive oil business bounds on – another website, run writer Judy Ridgway, has just posted our nut roast recipe – and the new year challenge is get the farm up and running, including pruning vines, as well as almond, fruit and olive trees.
Ella is working so very hard, juggling her five-languages baccalaureate (Spanish, Catalan, English, Greek, Latin, philosophy, geography, history, history of art and a thesis on fashion) while pulling together a portfolio to support art college applications. Regrettably an arts baccalaureate is not a sixth-form option in her small high school here in the mountains, so all her studies have been ex-curricular, something many arts-minded children may face in the UK if the mindless axing of arts education rolls on.
While I am on the subject, let me get this off my chest.
British art, music, theatre, film, books, radio and television are national treasures of invaluable worth that shine in the world and, for those in the corridors of power, bring vast returns to the Exchequer. Both Maggie and I despair that any Government should devalue this, or, indeed, deny that path of fulfilment to children. The planet needs far more arts, not less, for people to be more creative (and we don't mean in the accounts departments of tax-dodging major corporations).
Meanwhile Joe is getting into his stride in his first year at high school, and growing an inch taller every week.
Ella and Joe will be 18 and 13 come June, an emotional thought deepened by the arrival of a gift, a large grass-weave basket, just like the one Joe slept in aged 4 weeks when we first came to Catalonia and saw Mother's Garden.
Ella's final exams will begin on her birthday, but she plans on celebrating in May when she and four friends and her brother will see One Direction in concert in Barcelona.
We will be there too, parked outside the Olympic basketball stadium in one enormous parental taxi rank, me nodding my head to the Rolling Stones on the car stereo, turning up the volume to drown out the screams while counting my blessings that somehow I managed to get the tickets.
How, heaven knows. I just kept frantically clicking the BUY button on the event website like a Wild West telegraph operator in a tumbleweed railway station who has a gun pointed at him by Clint Eastwood, until – Hallelujah – it worked. Life would not have been worth living had I failed.
As countless households all over the world know, bleakly or joyfully, One Direction concerts have been selling out in a blink, with online and shop vendors besieged by frantic teenagers and panicking parents. Now I notice some seats for the Barcelona gig are being offered for re-sale for a small fortune, as much as, well, tickets to see ageless (alright, he's 69) living legend Mick Jagger strut his stuff while the indefinably cool guitarist Keith Richards sways precariously behind him. Heroes.
One Direction can't be that good, surely?
Once upon a time, like many parents of older teenagers, I have been an expert on four colourful, fat friends with aerials on their heads and televisions in the tummies. Their incomprehensive but somehow catchy gibberish were then wallpapered over by the likes of "doggydoo" Miley Cyrus and the Jonas Brothers greatest hits until I now find myself unwittingly humming 1D's "Little Things" while walking the dogs. Not that I mind. Suffolk singer/songwriter Ed Sheeran, who penned it, is class.
It is, give or take a sunrise or two, a dozen years since we rolled up here with our Norfolk bandwagon, chattels, dogs and dreams. We staked out this Latin soil as an outpost of the good county, promising to keep close and tell all; to share it.
Incredulity at the rush of time is answered by the grey-gilled man in the mirror, now 54 years of age. I have spent nearly a quarter of my life here and have tentatively begun the process of growing old. I need to accept that. Just beginning, I rush to add, but I – we – also need to recognise that the time has arrived to ease off the throttle; somehow.
Running the holiday cottage and, hence, having people on the farm for nine months of the year while also farming, writing and trying to grow the olive oil business is now too much.
So we are talking to villagers and friends to see who might like to share the land. There is talk of food cooperative members growing crops here. We want to focus more on the olive oil and the writing, so this may be our last season with the cottage. We shall see.
In truth, I don't really know how old I am. My head says go for it until my body argues back two days later. Then I read in London Sunday supplements left by visitors and penned by deluded writers of roughly my age that where forty was once the new thirty, fifty is now the new forty. ER…no. Admit it.
PS: Cancel your flights. I wrote the above a few days ago. This morning it is tipping it down, blowing a gale and there is now on top of the mountain. Never take a god's name in vain….
Related Images:
Winter cooking tips for our new harvest olive oil
A new shipment of fresh Mother's Garden olive oil will leave next week for deliveries in early February so if you would like some please get in touch as soon as you can.
Do winter and the best olive oil go together? Oh YES.
And if you need some tips CLICK HERE to read cook Stuart Buck's latest blog all about our olive oil.
"When you get oil as fresh as a daisy it has a spicy, grassy taste that's really pleasing in winter cooking."
We advise everyone to follow this foodie blog, particularly if you are in Norfolk where Stuart is based.
Meanwhile let us know what you would like to order from the shipment. There will be the usual selection of 500ml bottles (in cases of 6), 2 litre containers, 5 litre containers and 20 litre bag in boxes (as some food cooperative groups, ie our hubs, are now appreciating).
New labels are being printed but we will not use these until all the current ones have gone – why create waste?.
So we have also decided to delay the 2013 price rise for now too.
All olive oil now being offered is at 2012 prices – £39 for 6x500ml bottles, £17 for 2 litres, £35 for 5 litres and £140 for 20 litre bag in box.
SO HURRY WHILE LABELS LAST!! Click here to order or contact your hub if you are part of one.
Related Images:
Our fruitful colours of Christmas
It is the month of green and red, of course, although our shades may be a little different: the bounty of delicious new harvest olive oil and the miracle that is the red winter fruit of the strawberry tree.
We have been rushing hither and thither, completing our annual Christmas shipment of fresh olive juice to our key customers, preparing the farm for winter, planning the year ahead as sales of our award-winning cooperative olive oil in the UK, Canada and America climb at an ever increasing rate.
The word is spreading.
Want some?
Just get in touch.
It is so necessary too, though, to find moments to stand and stare.
I see things differently come December.
Mistletoe appears from nowhwere, like the robin, holly berry and rosehip, and a friend's garden in the lee of a great mountain is decorated with that indefinable delicacy of arbutus unedo, the strawberry tree. It fruits a year after flowering.
And just yesterday – hallelujah – there was the flash of the kingfisher.
As the Iberian winter bites the tetchy cat has hijacked the little chair I salvaged from the rubbish tip. My plan was to perch on it while feeding the wood-burner, hence saving my creaking knees; but no.
So, just three days and counting….The Mayans ran out of chisels or stone when they got to December 21, 2012, and (as you are undoubtedly aware) the conclusion has been drawn that this signifies all of us have run out of time. KABOOOM.
I prefer to prescribe the ancient Greek definition of apocalypse – not a cataclysm but an unveiling, or revealing, in reference to a meaning of some kind previously hidden in an era dominated by falsehood and misconception.
Let's hope so.
The sense of change is heightened, though, isn't it? Maybe humanity is unsettled by the compacted burdens of so-called advancements that weigh so much and have forsaken so much, from braking the core of being, the atom, to robbing family and community and the individuals of priceless time.
Or do I sense a longing for change more here, in Catalonia, an angry "state" within sick Spain now far larger in the world conscience after linking arms with Scotland and striding towards independence?
Catalan president Artur Mas risks having a ragged Christmas, because a month after the election his Moses-like posters are still hanging from ever lamppost and the wind is getting up.
He called an early vote in the region to pump independence air into the tyres of his middle-to-right of the road bandwagon, but it backfired. He lost some ground if not his crown, while left-wing separatists found a new gear.
The majority of Catalans voted for one of the pro-independence parties, though, and it is such a single-minded place to be right now that there is a real chance of left and right forgetting their differences, forming a coalition and defying Madrid by calling a referendum.
The right-wing Spanish government of starch-rigid President Rajoy has declared any such vote unconstitutional, which has had people openly pondering on the likelihood of tanks rumbling through these villages.
I can't see Europe letting it come to that, but why the clamour in the first place? The Catalans cite their ancient and unyielding claim of sovereignty, for reasons of language, culture and brutal history, and now even moderates have added their voices and votes, spurred by the economic mess.
Our village has already voted and declared it is not part of Spain.
Many Catalans think they would be better off going it alone because they pay far more in tax than they get back from Madrid, with this north east corner, the cornerstone of the "national" economy, constantly getting what they see as a raw and offensively dismissive deal from central government.
Certainly the mandate is clear enough for Artur and those seated at his round table, with nigh on a quarter of all Catalans flocking to a September rally to wave independence flags.
Fundamental issues of massive bureaucratic costs, EU membership, currency and the subsequent stability not only of a Catalan nation but what would be left of Spain form the meat course in this debate and we are just coming to it.
Spanish austerity was one of the topics discussed in my Norfolk home town of a couple of weeks ago.
A Spanish friend, a teacher, went to define to a gathering of anti-austerity UK residents the gravity of the situation here. She added her voice to a multi-party counter argument to the UK Government's stringent economic policies.
How strange to see a photograph of a face from the heart of here standing in the high street of my youth.
For weeks now the day and night skies have been clear and calm, down to minus 5 beneath starlight. Every morning sunlight bounces from dew drops and jet specks in the sky.
On a 40-minute afternoon drive into the mountains to fetch Ella from a friend's home the three griffon vultures circling overhead outnumbered the cars we passed along the winding lane of timeless charms.
The rains of late autumn have filled the reservoirs and brought our spring to life again. There is ample grazing for the horses. The chicken run has been reinforced and although a grey male goshawk has been sighted we have stopped the slaughter I recounted last month..
And as I walk the land and think of what the future may hold I reflect on how Adrian Bell felt on his Suffolk farm. How we appreciate him. I quote -
"I thought, today, how the family and one small farm fill our thoughts from waking to sleeping. Yet the farm occupies merely a moment of a traveller's time. What a concentration of concern there is all over the lands and cities of this island, and what an anomalously impersonal thing 'government' is by contrast. It will be superseded, surely, by something more personal, an intensification of the personal concern, not a denaturing of ourselves from it, which is present politics. It should be as personal an affair as the old heraldic rule of kings was; but adult in conception, a fusion and a sharing, not egotism splendidly strutting."
That was his hope in 1946.
What do I hope for everyone in 2013? An open-hearted, hopeful discussion on how to counter the sense of overload. Now is the time.
Have a wonderful Christmas. Peace in abundance. Ready smiles and steady hearts. Keep warm. Keep well.
Oh – and remember, whether you are in the United Kingdom or North America, you can get a taste of this life. We would love to hear from you.


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Back in the year 2000 (which was ELEVEN YEARS AGO, fact fans), I enjoyed American McGee's Alice comprehensively, like you might a bacon sandwich. Foremost in my mind are the environments- the game was a tour through a tattered and bucking dreamscape, with unholy vistas around every other corner. Finally we have some in-game footage of this summer's sequel, Alice: Madness Returns, and it gives me great pleasure to say that it's looking swell. Follow me down the rabbit hole, ladies and gents.
Read the rest of this entry »
Posts Tagged 'Spicy Horse'
Alice: Madness Returns Footage Is Gorgeous
By Quintin Smith on March 7th, 2011.
It's Dreamy Weather: New Alice Teaser
By Quintin Smith on February 15th, 2011.
American McGee's Alice 2, aka Alice: Madness Returns has a new teaser out, which I spotted during my morning patrol of VG24/7. You can watch it below. Hurry! You're late! You're late, for a very important date! No time to say hello, good-bye! You're late, you're late, you're late!
You're late and when you wave, you lose the time you save!
McGee's Alice: Teaser Site, Trailer, Date
By Jim Rossignol on November 2nd, 2009.
EDIT: Turns out the trailer is fan-made, and not official in any way. Which is kind of a shame, because it's awesome.
The new Alice game, which will be called Return Of American McGee's Alice, is miles off, being set for release in 2011. It is being developed by Shanghai studio, Spicy Horse. There's not much more to go on at present, other than the teaser site, and a brilliantly creepy teaser trailer, posted below.
Read the rest of this entry »

subset: commoncrawl


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Our parents warned us about middle aged men stalking us on the Internet but oh how the tables have turned
People around me have these popular blogs and I'm here like
Go follow her right now, will y'a? :3
thor is incredible like he has bathed in the blood of his enemies when he's in a frothing berserker rage yet i bet you anything he tiptoes around the flowers in frigga's garden so that he doesn't stomp on them
How the hell does Bag-End work, anyway? Pt. 1
defendjackcrawford - because Jack Crawford needs more love. Laurence Fishburne is a boss


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Mythical 'Pro Choice Republican' Discovered Defending Planned Parenthood
Cryptozoologists around the world are buzzing with excitement over the discovery of a thought-to-be extinct creature in the Midwestern state of Illinois: a Republican who supports funding Planned Parenthood. In fact, freshman Republican Congressman Bob Dold of Illinois supports Planned Parenthood and reproductive…
Republican Judge Issues Midnight Ruling Allowing Texas to Continue…
Remember yesterday when a federal court ruled that Texas's law designed to exclude Planned Parenthood from its Women's Health Program was unconstitutional? And remember how we were all like, Yay! Good news! Well, turn that upside down frown back upside down — the state of Texas has filed and been granted an emergency…
How We Could Be Preventing Unwanted Pregnancies—And Aren't
A new medical study indicates that it's safe for a woman to have an IUD inserted immediately after an abortion or miscarriage. Researchers say it could prevent more than 70,000 unintended pregnancies annually, but there's a non-medical reason that isn't happening: The Hyde Amendment.
Free Birth Control? It Could Happen
In November, experts advising the U.S. government will get together over coffee and muffins to discuss what sorts of birth control should be provided for free under the "ObamaCare" health reform bill. But first: the obligatory fight over morality.
Menopause Test Won't Solve The Fertility Puzzle
A new blood test that could accurately predict when women will enter menopause
Bristol Palin Gives Sherri Shepherd Abstinence Advice
Today on The View, Sherri Shepherd asked Bristol Palin how she planned to reconcile abstinence with "raging hormones." Bristol's answer was sort of equivocal — unlike her views on her mom's presidential hopes.
Survey: Dudes More Likely To Be "Pleased" With Unplanned Pregnancy
Among couples who say it's "important" to avoid getting pregnant right now, 43% of men and only 20% of women would be "pleased" with an unplanned pregnancy. Maybe because "unexpected pregnancies tend to put us ladies out a touch." [Sexist]
Death Threats Against Obama No Higher Than Normal • Sarah Palin…
• This morning, during a Homeland Security Committee hearing, U.S. Secret Service Director Mark Sullivan said that the number of death threats that have been leveled against Obama are no greater than those received by Bush or Clinton. •
Poor Sex Ed Contributes To Rising Pregnancy Terminations In China
The newspaper China Daily reported today that abortions in China have risen to 13 million a year, from 9 million in 2003, and a crackdown on accessing sex-related material on the Web may increase them even more.
More Women Seek Abortions In Tough Economy
Just a few days after the release of Gallup poll results
UK Female Pioneers Get Own Stamps • Josef Fritzl Declared Clincally…
How Pretty, Profitable Should Planned Parenthood Be?
"I'd like to think of Planned Parenthood as the LensCrafters of family planning," says Planned Parenthood executive Steve Trombley in a fascinating Wall Street Journal piece on how the 92-year-old nonprofit, long beset by attacks and threats by antiabortion wingnuts, is coming under fire for Starbucksification. (I guess…
Old Lady Shows Others Lost In The Wilderness How It's Done
- Three cheers for 76-year old Ora Doris Anderson; the senior was thought to be dead after she went missing in the Oregonian mountains for two weeks but rescuers found her alive yesterday. Way to go, Grandma! [CNN]
- A Daily Mail writer has her panties in a wad over usually demure women being fond of topless sunbathing. …
Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar, an Evangelical couple made famous by a series of TV specials on the Discovery Health Network about their family, just welcomed their 17th child last week—and they say they want more. The baby girl, named Jennifer, joins sibs Joshua, 19; John David, 17; Janna, 17; Jill, 16; Jessa, 14;…


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Banh Mi Ba Le, Oakland (2nd location)
Mar 12, 2008 by DezzerSF in San Francisco Bay Area
Lost 1985 Gourmet Cranberry Chutney Recipe
Nov 13, 2009 by Amy Bauer in Home Cooking
Is Indian Food really healthy?
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Weight Watchers Foodies - It's Too Hot To Eat Anyway Edition - July and August 2013 [OLD]
Jul 01, 2013 by roxlet in Home Cooking
Worst Beer Ever?
Apr 15, 2008 by DapperDave in Beer
Things I ate/drank in college that I will never eat again
Aug 18, 2008 by rHairing in General Topics
ØL Beercafe and Bottle Shop - Walnut Creek
Nov 20, 2011 by Robert Lauriston in San Francisco Bay Area
What is your absolute favorite dish from your cultural heritage?
May 19, 2013 by JenniferLopez in General Topics
Healthy Indian?
Feb 20, 2009 by Unk in San Francisco Bay Area
Samosa dough: what went wrong?
Apr 18, 2008 by rweater in Home Cooking
Oasis Market - Oakland
Aug 28, 2009 by Robert Lauriston in San Francisco Bay Area
Most Reliable Restaurant Review Site Outside of Chowhound?
May 11, 2007 by Dio Seijuro in Food Media & News
Burmese Prawn Curry
Jan 29, 2009 by CHOW Staff in Recipes
Trader Joe's Yay/Nay Thread - April 2013 [OLD]
Apr 01, 2013 by littleflower in Chains
Weight Watcher Foodies - Cruelest Month Edition - April 2013
Apr 01, 2013 by roxlet in Home Cooking
Trader Joe's Yay/Nay Thread - March 2013 [OLD]
Mar 01, 2013 by littleflower in Chains
Weight Watcher Foodies - March Forth into Spring Edition--March 2013 [OLD]
Mar 01, 2013 by roxlet in Home Cooking
So what's the average Chowhound's age?
Mar 11, 2009 by beccabones in Site Talk
Corned beef... oven or stove?
Jan 12, 2009 by ashii in Home Cooking
Weight Watcher Foodies - Groundhog Edition - February 2013 [old]
Feb 01, 2013 by roxlet in Home Cooking
I always enjoy _____, no matter how bad it is.
Oct 20, 2008 by RealMenJulienne in General Topics
Curry leaves in the North Bay? Where?
Jan 05, 2008 by maria lorraine in San Francisco Bay Area
Where to buy Thai sweet dark soy in SF?
Feb 12, 2013 by totoro415 in San Francisco Bay Area
Baby Shower Food
Feb 13, 2007 by wcgirl in General Topics
Weight Watcher Foodies - Into the New Year! January 2013 [old]
Jan 03, 2013 by mariacarmen in Home Cooking
Real Name:
Adrienne, adrienne156(at)hotmail(dot)com
SF Bay Area originally, IE occasionally
Best meal I ever ate:
Sitting next to my grandmother in her outdoor kitchen in Khulna dipping piping-hot whole wheat rotis straight off the tava, pillowy soft and smokey from the open flame, into tea made rich and thick with heaping teaspoons of Nido and sidr honey before dinner.
My current drink of choice:
Reconstructed Manhattan - Paisan, Berkeley
I really wish I could:
Backpack around Asia. Delayed gratification sucks.
My "Go-to" dinner party dish:
Turkey sandwiches and a case of 5-Hour Energies. Law students don't throw dinner parties.
My favorite comfort food:
Bengali Mommy food: spinach stir-fried with dried chilies; spicy garlicky mashed kabocha squash with shrimp; Indian "Hot Mix" toasted in a pan with rice crispies, fried onions, bits of green chili, and ginger, barely drizzled with mustard oil. ...And, hazelnut gelato. I don't know whether to eat it or roll around in it.
My top 5 favorite restaurants:
Top 5? Erm, I eat here often: Beretta, El Taco Zamorano Restaurant, Burma Superstar, China Village
People Reading Me


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10 Rapper's Crazy Cribs
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All 8 of Brangelina's Brood Travel to Australia
Miranda Kerr's Life Without Orlando Is Better Than Ever


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How the anti-Israel left uses 'Zionist media conspiracy' theories by Joel B. Pollak 27 Feb 2013 post a comment Share This: Philip Weiss, an anti-Israel blogger so wretchedly devoted to his obsession that Palestinian terrorists were re-tweeting him during Operation Pillar of Defense last year, has revealed his version of the story of how an anti-Israel op-ed made its way into the New York Times last year. The op-ed, by Sarah Schulman, accused Israel of "pinkwashing"--using its admirable record on gay rights to cover up its alleged abuses of the Palestinians. Weiss describes a tough editorial process, dictated by the "Jewish politics of the Times," in which Schulman's thesis was resisted by editors constantly pushing back on her claims, forcing her to prove her contentions. But Weiss undoes his own tale by revealing that the Times op-ed page assistant had given his immediate approval to the idea of the piece: "He said, 'Sure.'" Whatever difficulties that followed were secondary to the fact that the Times was instantly willing to welcome a slanderous op-ed against Israel that also minimized anti-gay laws and attitudes among Palestinians and in the Arab and Muslim world more generally. Weiss goes on to entertain Schulman's accusation that an AP story in the Times about Israel's gay culture was "obviously some deal brokered between the Times and the Israeli government." And so a Zionist conspiracy theory, together with backwards conclusions about the Times' "Jewish politics," obfuscates the paper's actual, well-documented, anti-Israel bias.
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Michigan says guards' failure to secure motion alarms played 'major' role in killer's escape6 Mar 2014, 2:06 PM PDT
Feds to pay legal defense for friend accused of lying for Boston Marathon bombing suspect6 Mar 2014, 1:46 PM PDT


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Search results for : | murphy bumper |
Old's Cool 'Chrome Bumper' Car Forum
Discussion forum for owners of Old School 'Chrome Bumper' Cars.
old's, cool, discussion, forum, owners, classic, cars, chrome, customClub 51
Online Forum entertaining fans of V8 Supercars, Greg Murphy and the teams he has belonged to. Past and Present.
club, greg, murphy, russell, ingall, kelly, racing, supercars, fujitsu, paul, morris, forum, fans, supporters, rick, toddFree forum : Alias Smith and Jones Fun and Fanfiction
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Tim Murphy
"Fastracecars" on this forum has died. I do not have details at this point.......he was a great guy and had a super product....he will be missed
Brendan Murphy
was looking through the kildare section of Hogan stand forum it said Brendan Murphy had left his club in carlow and signed for sarsfields because he work in army in curragh . is this ture?
Troy Murphy Picks Celtics Over Heat
Updated: March 1, 2011, 12:03 PM ET Troy Murphy picks Celtics over Heat EmailPrintComments 82 By Marc Stein ESPN.com Archive Highly coveted free agent Troy Murphy is signing with the Boston Celtics. Murphy told ESPN.com via e-mail that he will
Audie Murphy
I know a lot has been said about Audie Murphy, and all the Western films he starred in. Last night, Encore Westerns played No Name on the Bullet, starring Murphy, but earlier in the evening I heard that yesterday, Jan. 26, marked the 66th anniversary of
Paddy n murphy
Paddy asks murphy " why do scuba divers fall off their boat backwards?" to which murphy replies " you idiot paddy, if they fell forward they,d still be in the boat


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Fri, 7 Mar 2014 - 8:00pm
MARDI GRAS Concert featuring CHARLES NEVILLE at LARCOM THEATRE ~ MARDI GRAS CONCERT ~ HENRI SMITH feat. CHARLES NEVILLE FRI & SUN MAR 7&9 - 13 Wallis Street, Beverly, MA 01915 - Phone: 978-525-9093
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This performance features the IBO exploring the theme of "Ireland's Golden Age." at Rockport Music's Shalin Liu Performance Center - 37 Main Street, Rockport, MA 01966 - Phone: 978-546-7391
Fri, 7 Mar 2014 - 8:30pm
ICC (Italian Community Center) Beverly, MA at ICC Italian Community Center - Rantoul Street, Beverly, MA
Fri, 7 Mar 2014 - 9:00pm
Rcok n Rock at Minglewood Tavern - 25 Rogers Street, Gloucester, MA 01930 - Phone: 978-281-0223
Fri, 7 Mar 2014 - 9:30pm
at The Rhumb Line - 40 Railroad Ave, Gloucester, MA - Phone: 978-283-9732
Sat, 8 Mar 2014 - 6:00pm
Early Show with special guest at The Rhumb Line - 40 Railroad Ave, Gloucester, MA - Phone: 978-283-9732
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March Madness ~ Dance & Auction Tix: 978-526-7626 at American Legion - 14 Church St, Manchester, MA 01944 - Phone: (978) 526-4591
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What Time Is It, Mr. Fox? at Old Sloop Coffeehouse presents What Time Is It, Mr. Fox? - 12 School Street, Rockport, MA 01966 - Phone: 978-309-9667
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Blues/Rock/Jam at Minglewood Tavern - 25 Rogers Street, Gloucester, MA 01930 - Phone: 978-281-0223
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Daily Archives: May 14, 2012
GHS Baseball vs Lynn English (Photos by David B. Cox)
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Video- Castle Manor Inn Room Tour
click to play the video Check Out their website here for more info and visit the open house Grand Opening May 18th- 5/18 from 6-10pm there will be food & wine tastings, musicians and tours.
Posted in gloucester, Video
Tagged Castle Manor Inn, Gloucester Ma, Good Morning Gloucester, Inn, Joey Ciaramitaro, Room Tour
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Italy Day Four: Positano
Woke up late to a large breakfast served on the terrace off our room. Complimentary breakfast comes with the room which consisted of bread, butter, croissant, coffee and yogurt. For an additional 4 Euro you can get bacon and eggs. … Continue reading
The nature and beauty of Rafe's Chasm
As we were cleaning up Rafe's Chasm on Saturday, saw these pretty little flowers, a butterfly and of course the view
Rockport Beach and Dump Stickers Now Available
Today was the first day for stickers and Rubber Duck made it in early with no line and no waiting. Bring car registration and a tax bill (if your registration is not Rockport) along with a check or cash to … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Bean and Leaf, Rockport Beach Stickers, Rockport Dump Stickers, Rubber Duck
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Call for Horses and Fun Loving, Art Appreciating People
"A horse is the projection of peoples' dreams about themselves – strong, powerful, beautiful – and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence." ~Pam Brown . . . the same can be said about a … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized
12 Comments
10 to Be Recognized for Their Contributions to Make Gloucester a Better Place
Ten individuals have been chosen to receive the Gloucester Unitarian Universalist Church's "Gloucester Citizenship Awards" for 2012, for the contributions they make to their community and their neighbors through volunteer efforts, carried out quietly and persistently, without thought of … Continue reading
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Meet Chris Muskopf
Chris Muskopf and the newly planted Tulip Trees at St. Peter's Square Friday late afternoon I took a stroll along the Harbor Walk to have a look at the newly planted gardens. I heard a friendly hello from behind and … Continue reading
Oh yeah, he can sing gospel too …
Our friend Henri Smith just posted a recording of his band performing Just a Closer Walk with Thee at the First Parish Church in Manchester on May 6 that raised money for The Grace Center in Gloucester. This is one … Continue reading
Tristen~The Pete Lindberg Band and The BFs ~ Tuesday night @ Minglewood
I have not doubt in my mind that this is going to one awesome event. A very good mix of musicians bringing you music from Indie pop, Rockabilly, good ole Country, Folk and Rock and Roll. ROLLING STONE reviews Charlatans … Continue reading
Posted in GMG Music Schedule
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Music Around Town ~ May 14-20, 2012
Click photo for music info
Posted in GMG Music Schedule
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Pleasant Street Tea Company art reception
Last Friday, there was a very nice art reception at the Pleasant Street Tea Company. Here are some photos of the event. The exhibit will be up until the end of June. You can also check their work out on … Continue reading
Posted in Art, gloucester, Go See
Tagged Art, Ben Macadam, Brad Byrd, Donna Marie Therrien, Pleasant Street Art Company, Reception, Rocky Delforge
5 Comments
Gloucester is Shangri-La From Gloucester Quilter
While everyone was watching the supermoon rise, Gloucester Quilter was watching the fog roll into the city. http://gloucesterquilter.wordpress.com/ Chickity Check Her Lobster Potholders- Lobster Potholders
Chickity Check It! The American Eagle Newsletter
Rosalie Parisi forwards the link- The American Eagle used to offload whiting and groundfish here at our dock back in the day. It was an eastern rigged dragger which most of the Gloucester fleet was back then and Captained by … Continue reading
Gloucester Webcam of The Day- Bass Rocks Ocean Inn
VISIT BASS ROCKS OCEAN INN WEBSITE This Webcam and more can be found at http://www.gloucesterwebcam.com
View From Our Hotel Last Night In Rome In The Heart Of Rome's Commercial Fishing Port: Hotel Tibor
Looking out the front window of our room we got to see the Rome Dragger Fleet. Behind our Hotel, Hotel Tibor there are fish processing plants and open fish marketplaces, and along the boardwalk next to our hotel and in … Continue reading


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The Best of W.C. Fields A henpecked but stoic pharmacist tries to maintain his precarious balance whie dealing with demanding customers and his dysfuntional family.
Cable Highlights The MHP panel talks about the issues facing our water infrastructure, from water pollution to water droughts and shortages.
Cable Highlights Alex Witt talks to NBC News Olympic Security Analyst Andrew Weiss about the current state of affairs at the Sochi Olympics and Russia.


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You'll find our Adgestone Club campsite in a quiet countryside setting on the beautiful Isle of Wight close to the popular Sandown resort.
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a place for zinesters - writers and readers
This is the "Gangsta Style" I perfected when I was locked up
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Ist preference given to distros and zines. Rates and details are here. Limited space. Very Low Cost!
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text: exo, exo k, chanyeol Added: Sept. 4, 2012 | Image size: 500 x 350 px | More from: www.asianfanfics.com | Source: link No comments Please log in or sign up to post a comment. add to set Views: 478 Likes (**who?): 1 Comments: 0Tagged with:chanyeol 180exo 955exo k 248Log in or Sign upLog In or Sign Up


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I was going to write a serious story this week. It was going to be about family and brainwashing and body image and it would make people think about the world in a different light.
Then I read this and… um… my hand slipped?
PS: it's about 10 times better if you read Obama's dialogue in his actual voice.
The Last Resort
Carman Delgado's feet ached as she walked through the halls of the Oval Office. Sixteen hours standing and walking with her feet in cased in black Jimmy Choos with two inch heels exhausted her physically but her sanity had taken the worst of the blow. Pushing through the double doors, she found the president alone with his head in his hands.
"Sir?" Carman never wanted so badly to turn in her resignation right then and there. She worked hard to get to where she was, graduated Summa Cum Laude from Harvard's school of Political Science, put her time in on the campaign trail of senators, congressman and finally the president's, sacrificed her relationships with family, friends and lovers all to get to where she was today. She never wanted this though, to witness an international cataclysm in her own life time. President Obama looked up, his handsome face tired and aged beyond its years.
"Ms. Delgado," he nodded to her, "is that what I think it is?"
"I'm afraid so, sir." She stepped forward, hardly even shaking and handed him the slip of paper. "Congress approved, so did the House."
"Damn it," he sighed, scanning the paper with a frown. "Damn it all to hell."
He stood, squaring his shoulders with determination and resolve. Carmen wondered if she should leave, bring in the generals or the secretary of state or something. President Obama smiled softly at her nervousness. "Would you like to witness history, Ms. Delgado?"
She blinked, "Sir?"
"The law requires a witness. John and Joe headed home a while ago," he shrugged, "I understand if you'd rather not of course but I'd like to get this over with."
"Yes, Sir," she swallowed hard, "I can do it."
"That's very good. Thank you, Ms. Delgado."
Neither of them spoke as he walked to the farthest book case and removed a copy of Stephan Colbert's I Am America and So Can You. He pressed his thumb into a scanner beneath it and the book case flipped around. Lighting the way with his smartphone, President Obama descended the jagged stone staircase, motioning for Camren to follow.
"Sir?" she asked after a long moment.
"Yes, Ms. Delgado?"
"Where are we going?"
The President sighed, gazing deeply into the fire. "Do you know what was on that paper, Ms. Delgado?"
"I know it was authorization for military action against Iran," she admitted.
"Not quite military," he said, "Most people, hell most members of congress, don't realize we have access to what I'm about to use. If certain factions of the population were made aware of it, I'd never have been elected, let alone served out my second term. When I decided to run, I knew this job would be difficult-"
"You've done a great job," she blurted out, "Especially considering what came before. The Affordable Health Care act saved my sister's life, I-"
"Thank you, Ms. Delgado, but I wasn't fishing for compliments," he chuckled. "I thought, up until a few weeks ago, that that would be my legacy. Then it was confirmed, hard evidence from reliable sources, that Iran intended to use nuclear weapons against us. We did a lot of great things in this administration, things I'm proud to have a part in but this, what you and I are about to do, this will outlive all of our grandchildren, alter the entire fate of the world."
They stopped at a thick metal door. The President entered a quick key code and leaned forward for a retinal scan. The door beeped and a monotone voice thanked him. Gears whirred as the door lifted to reveal a long narrow hallway ending in a black circle. Carmen followed President Obama inside, jumping when the door shut behind them.
"What's down there?" she asked.
He swallowed and continued his story, "In the 1960's, a group of American geologists were investigating strange tremors just outside of San Francisco. At first, they thought they were just run of the mill earth quakes but none of their instruments detected any fault activity. Then they found this:"
He held the torch aloft to reveal the contents of the inner sanctum. In the center of the round, cobblestone chamber was a large glass cage. It reminded Carmen of the tanks at the National Aquarium except, instead of water and depressed fish, it was filled with smoke. At first it seemed pink, then purple and green streaks appeared, followed by red and yellow and all the colors of the rainbow. It seemed to be screaming behind the whirr of machinery and she thought she could make out vague, almost human shapes in the mist but with long, curving fingers and small pointy horns.
"What the hell is that?"
"They didn't know either," Obama said, "The geologists, the CIA, everyone was stumped until someone brought in an expert on the paranormal."
"Paranormal?!" her jam dropped and she stared at him, unable to form anything close to coherent thought.
He turned to face, his hazel eyes desperate, almost pleading. "There's no easy way to say this. There's no way to make it believable but it's true. They've confirmed it themselves. Those things in there…they're Homosexual Demons and they're controlled by the United States' Government."
"What," Carmen blinked and for a moment saw red, "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Gay people aren't Demons! Mr. President, I'm Bi and I resent being dragged down here for some stupid-"
"I did not say gay people were Demons, Ms. Delgado!" Obama roared. She stepped back but he immediately calmed himself. "I'm sorry but these are Homosexual Demons. Apparently there are all kind of demons, heterosexual, bisexual, asexual, but these ones are Homosexual and they are our greatest weapon."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
He sighed, staring back into the tank. "These demons- in clinical trials they were able to affect a person's mind, completely alter their personality. Married men left their wives, became obsessed with theatre and the preforming arts. They were better groomed, took greater care with their money, becoming affluent. Men with military careers, football scholarships, every Clint Eastwood bullshit stereotype suddenly dropped everything for fancy dinners and manicures. Somehow, our scientists managed to harness them, to make the specifically work towards American interests."
"The Gay Bomb?" Carmen stared.
Obama nodded. "Not the destructive power of the Atom at least, but comparable in that the world has never seen anything like it. In one act, I'll be confirming the existence of demons and some will see it as proof of their own bigotry. There's bound to be collateral damage, at the very least families will be ripped apart, personalities rewritten."
"But no one will die," she argued, "Speaking from experience, sudden attraction to the same gender isn't the worst thing that can happen to a person."
"There's always collateral damage," he repeated, "and this isn't a case of coming out, Ms. Delgado. These creatures embody every random stereotype surrounding people who are homosexual. They've never been unleashed on a population even a fraction of the size of Iran. Believe me, I am only doing this because there is no other option."
He stared at her, seemingly begging for absolution. Carmen nodded, "I know, Sir."
President Obama nodded and stepped forward to the machine. He placed his hands in two golden manacles and recited something in a language she couldn't understand. The rainbow mist began to swirl rapidly and the high pitched howling grew louder. The President's eyes went white and his mouth opened in a silent scream. The colors rushed to the top of the tank and Carmen thought she heard something giggle. Then they disappeared, leaving only the empty glass chamber.
President Obama slumped to the ground, his hands sliding from the manacles. Carmen only just managed to catch him before his head knocked against the stone floor. His breathing was ragged and too thin. She swallowed hard, wondering if she could get him back up the stairs or even if they could leave the chamber.
His eyes fluttered and closed again. "May God have mercy on my soul,"


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House | 2 bedrooms | sleeps 4
Key Info |
Walden Pond is a detached cottage in woodland, a mile from St. Blazey and three miles from the beach at Par. The cottage has a ground floor twin and a first floor double. The family bathroom is on the ground floor, along with the kitchen and the sitting room with dining area and woodburner. Outside is off road parking for two cars, and an open garden area with furniture. Walden Pond is within easy reach of the beach at Par, the Eden Project, the Lost Gardens of Heligan and much more.
Size | Sleeps up to 4, 2 bedrooms |
Will consider | Short breaks (1-4 days) |
Access | Car not necessary |
Notes | No pets allowed, No smoking at this property |
Features and Facilities
Luxuries | Log fire, Internet access |
General | Wi-Fi available |
Rooms | 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms of which 1 Family bathrooms and 1 Shower rooms |
Furniture | Double beds (1) |
Outdoors | Private garden, Shared garden |
Access | Parking |
Further details | Oil central heating with woodburner in sitting room. Electric oven and hob, microwave, fridge, TV, DVD, WiFi. Fuel, power and starter pack for woodburner inc. in rent. Bed linen and towels inc. in rent. Off road parking for 2 cars. Private, partially-fenced garden with furniture and BBQ. Sorry, no pets and no smoking. Shop 10 mins walk, pubs 2 miles. Note: Young children should be supervised when in the garden. |
The West Country region
Cornwall's visitors are constantly tempted back to the beautiful coastline, tiny fishing villages, hidden coves and the world-class surfing. Whatever the reason, Cornwall has long cemented its place as one of Britain's premier holiday destinations.
Par is a village in South Cornwall which offers a sandy beach. The world-famous Eden Project is nearby, as is the Gribbin Peninsula, which is a walkers haven. There are many other attractions in the area including the Lost Gardens of Heligan and the Shipwreck museum in Charlestown


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CA SiteMinder Contracts in London |
CA SiteMinder |
For the 6 months to 7 March 2014, IT contractor jobs across the London region citing CA SiteMinder also mentioned the following IT skills grouped by category. The figures indicate the number of jobs and their proportion against the total number of contract IT job ads sampled that cited CA SiteMinder. Up to 20 skills are shown per category.


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President Obama And Family Host The 134th Easter Egg Roll
This morning, 35,000 lucky kids and their parents from all across America were invited to the White House to participate in the 134th Annual Easter Egg Roll, hosted by President Obama and his family.
Similar to last year, the theme dubbed Let's Go, Let's Play, Let's Move', was focused on Mrs. Obama's goal to get kids active and included fun sports like basketball, soccer, yoga, dancing and even Double Dutch! In addition, the kids got to cook (and eat) healthy snacks at the Kids Kitchen, under the supervision of world famous chefs.
But best of all - they got to hunt for 13,000 Easter eggs that had been scattered all over the White House lawn and listen to a special narration of Maurice Sendack's 'Where the Wild Things Are' - read by none other then President Barack Obama.
Mrs. Obama joined in the fun with "The Little Mouse, The Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear" by Don and Audrey Wood. Malia and Sasha did their part too, and took turns reading 'A Sick Day for Amos McGee', the poignant story of how zoo animals took the time to care for a keeper when he became sick.
In addition, the lucky guests also got to listen to books read by celebrities like Hollywood actors Forest Whitaker and Julianne Moore and be entertained by performers like Cody Simpson, Janelle Monae and even characters from 'Sesame Street.'
After a fun day, the revelers departed from the White House with not just fond memories but also, a souvenir - A wooden egg bearing the signature of both the President and the First Lady. Did someone say luckyyyyy?
Resources: huffingtonpost.com,christiansciencemonitor.com
149 Comments
- brookelol12/31/2013their dog is sooo cute
- Amie12/2/2013The Easter bunny looks so cute.
- Amie12/2/2013That is so lucky for the people that got invited.
- love4/19/2013i am so pertty
- Sajayda4/11/2013I think that you are a good president barack Obama
- james3/25/2013show me somethig of michelle obama im doing a project and it is duo on thursday im toast.
- love 1/22/2013omg
- love 1/22/2013fun I wish I was there very cool
- yo mam11/27/2012fun:) OMG BECKY
- soccer girl11/17/2012cool
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Welcome to the 'lapulapu' tag page at Technorati. This page features content from the farthest reaches of the Blogosphere that authors have "tagged" with 'lapulapu'.
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Cebu Updates 11
— Authority:
This will be my final post for the year 2013. Here's a very short list of what's new in Cebu. Enjoy the holidays, you guys! And see you next year, err… tomorrow! ——————– Cebu's Osmeña Boulevard all dolled up for the holidays! You can't stop these folks from celebrating! Cebuanos ...9 weeks ago -
Newtown School of Excellence [5Fx?ledu]
— Authority:
A year ender thread for the Mactan Newtown... The World Class School of Excellence will be operated by La Salle and will be will integrated to the La Salle Educational Systems...It will occupy almost 1 hectare of land within the Mactan Newtown complex :cheers: Picture of the site clearing will be posted soon. ...9 weeks ago


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the Bowery Electric,
New York
featuring The Seventh Ring of Saturn, King Penguin and the Sky Picnic!
Fruits de Mer Records brings it's Crabstock International Festival of Psychedelia to the U...
Brookhaven music events
Fruits de Mer Records presents Crabstock USA!
Thursday, Apr 10
Author Len Vlahos Comes to Byrd's Books!
Saturday, Mar 22
Byrd's Books,
Byrd's Books is thrilled to welcome Len Vlahos as he "tells the story behind the story of 'The Scar Boys'. It includes videos of 80s punk/pop music, pics, storytelling, and a live song or two...
Friday, Mar 21
Westminster Arts Center,
Flamenco meets India in this night of exciting flamenco and Indian music and dance...
Rock Out Autism 2014 VIP
Saturday, Apr 5
The Emporium,
Here you can purchase VIP Passes for Rock Out Autism 2014
For more info on Rock Out Autism check out www.RockOutAutism.org
Brantley Gilbert Thomas Rhett Tyler Farr & Cole Swindell
Thursday, Jul 3
Pennysaver Amphitheater,
Woodlands Folk Festival
Saturday, Jun 7
Unitarian Universalist Fellowship at Stony Brook,
Setauket- East Setauket
The Woodlands Folk Festival is a community celebration of music a family-friendly, eco-friendly day of great music and fine food and drink under the trees.
500 attendees expected...
Steve Forbert
Friday, May 9
Boulton Center for the Performing Arts,
Bay Shore
Thirty-five years after Steve Forbert's first release, Alive on Arrival, the muse of a true romantic continues to burn...
Naiburg Obedin and Weissman
Thursday, Aug 14
Naiburg Obedin and Weissman,
Central Islip
The law firm of Naiburg, Obedin and Weissman provides experienced criminal defense legal representation to the residents of Suffolk County, Long Island...
Sharon Corr
Sunday, Mar 16
Boulton Center for the Performing Arts,
Bay Shore
Sharon Corr – Grammy Nominee/Brit Award Winner, singer/songwriter and violinist – hugely successful both as a member of legendary Irish group The Corrs and as as a solo artist is releasing her seco...
Brookhaven music Related Topics
acid jazz | acoustic | alternative | ambient | bluegrass | blues | bossa nova | breakbeat | cajun & zydeco | calypso | caribbean | celtic | children's | choral / vocalist | christian | r b events | fairs festivals | meetings | performing arts | kingston ny penny social or basket raffle 2014 | long island live music | music festival | phillip phillips | x n x x new | techno dance | rock concert | concert | hip hop clubs | haunted | free concerts near | alternative | bar | bar and grill | sound of music events | classical


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- Seattle socialist: Minimum-wage discussion skewed by 'right-wing' GAO analysis
- U.N. warns of Muslim 'cleansing' in Central African Republic
- Drug mix may have cured child born with HIV, doctors say
- De Blasio's wife irks former mansion chef with 'servant' remark
- Russia's neighbors shiver amid Putin's Cold War moves in Ukraine
- New SAT: The essay portion is to become optional
- Military group can't march to honor the fallen at Boston Marathon due to security changes
- Senate passes bills deleting 'retarded' from laws
- China announces biggest military hike in 3 years: We are not 'boy scouts with spears'
Lithuanians near old nuclear plant fear for their lives
In October 2010, radioactive pipes connected with Reactor 1 in Ignalina burst during cleaning, leaking several hundred tons of radioactive sludge.
It didn't breach the concrete rooms inside the building and no one was injured, but the accident caused alarm, particularly since the plant conceded in a statement that the cleaning technology "was in fact not tested in nuclear industry enterprises before."
Dormant nuclear facilities potentially could pose a tantalizing prize for terrorists or smugglers of nuclear materials, and experts point to another worry: Only a handful of reactors worldwide have been fully dismantled, meaning the process is largely uncharted territory.
Tearing apart reactor cores, for instance, creates unknown challenges and potential risks given the level of radiation inside them.
Steven Thomas, an energy specialist at Britain's Greenwich University, says taking apart the core will likely require robots that are not yet invented.
"The robots we have at the moment won't do it because the levels of radioactivity will send them berserk," he said.
Costly enterprise
Ignalina presents particular challenges. The nuclear fuel rod bundles, at 23 feet, are twice as long as those in conventional plants and must be sawed in half to fit into storage casts.
Spent nuclear fuel is by far the biggest decommissioning headache. It is extremely radioactive and will remain so for thousands of years.
In the U.S. and elsewhere it's a political bomb because no state or county wants to store it. France chooses to reprocess its fuel for further use in reactors, while Sweden and Finland bury it in casks deep underground.
In the long term, Lithuania hopes to send its fuel back to Russia, where it was manufactured. But for now, it has nowhere to put many spent fuel bundles since the temporary storage facility that was supposed to be ready when the plant closed in 2009 is still not complete.
Decommissioning work in Lithuania, Slovakia and Bulgaria has been held up by vague contracts, lengthy regulatory approval, commercial disputes and management changes, according to officials involved in the projects.
Since closing the plants was a condition for their joining the bloc, the EU is paying almost the entire bill, and for taxpayers: It's huge — more than $2.6 billion so far, over half of it to Ignalina, the most troublesome.
The three countries have re-estimated total costs at $6.8 billion — up from the original estimate of $5.1 billion — and doesn't include the toughest job, dismantling the reactor cores.
The job was to be completed between 2025 and 2035, but may take much longer and cost more.
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