God save the Queen

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Tuesday, November 18th, 2014

Happy Birthday to Alistair and to Allison!  Anyone who accuses me of not doing my very best to raise my Canadian children in the British tradition, watch this.  When Grandma is coming around for her birthday tea what should we do Felicity?  Put on our very nicest Confiture dress (kindly donated by our friends the Anejas of B'lh'm, England), pull out our dog-earred copy of Good Housekeeping's "Cookery Book" and turn to scones.  Not an ounce of sugar goes into these little darlings (until of course you dollop half a jar or jam on each one) and they have a reassuring paucity of ingredients, relying on butter and salt to salve our taste buds.  My own Granny used to turn these things out in industrial quantities and although I did not approach her standard today, warm and fresh from the oven these were just great.  And by the way, technically the kids are dual nationality or they will be once I get around to ordering their passports.   


For our Canadian readers out there, rest assured.  For every old world culinary experience there is a quintessentially Canadian one right around the corner.  In fact today, before any of this baking nonsense, we had already spent half an hour in pitch battle with eighteen separate items of outdoor wear, bundled our little party duly clad out the door and into the Chariot trailer and, ignoring the -5C on the mercury and the biting gales that gave us a wind chill in the minus teens, biked to the swimming pool.  Too bloody cold to take pictures but there is definitely something reassuringly Canadian about negotiating frozen roads and frostbite just to get to pool.  

Later I took to the running path sporting my special underpants, the ones with the strategically positioned windproof patch.  There was a time when I did not own this equipment (I now own two pairs) and can therefore attest to their absolute, undeniable indispensability.  I know you are wondering so here is a picture:
On that note, I will bid you a good night.

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