Tea and Cakes

I’m fond of chocolate.
Minstrels are a good choice (see post below), as are maltesers. Right now I’m in a revels mood.

I go through phases with my chocolate eating. Not in whether I eat it or not, it’s a proven fact that I can’t go without chocolate for longer than a couple of days. When I was younger my brother bet me a fiver that I couldn’t last a week. And bribed the person who owned the shop down the road to tell on me. I tried.

When I’m in a phase of liking, no, craving is perhaps more appropriate, a specific sort of chocolate, I just have to eat that chocolate. So, I’ve been eating a lot of revels lately. Polished off one of the new resealable big bags by myself at the cinema the other night. Felt slightly ill after it. However, it didn’t cure me of my craving. This usually works with maltesers – I eat a few bags in a row until I don’t fancy them any more.

I think the thing about revels is that there are so many different types in the bag. It’s great! One mouthful is coffee cream, the next a malteser, then orange cream. I love them all. Even the coffee ones. When I was a kid we had a rule that if you offered someone a revel and they got a coffee one they could take another to make up for it. I liked that rule, I did well out of it.

I’m not particularly fond of the toffee ones, they’re too hard. Toffee should be softer, like in rolos.

This was from the other night. The mug is one of my favourites – it’s fine bone china, so it’s lovely to drink out of, nice and light and delicate, but it has funky blue spots, so it’s not dull and fusty.
I like spots.
The tea was indian chai from Whittards. Loose tea, which is best, but a pain to clean out of the pot afterwards. Sometimes I like chai tea with milk (sweetened soya) and honey (bunalun organic honey), but other times I like it black and unsweetened. This was one of those times.
Behind the mug is my bag of minstrels. Technically it’s a shared bag, but all chocolate in the house really belongs to me. It’s just better that way. I like minstrels. They’re like the spots on the mug, but made of chocolate.

I have no idea how I set the camera to take this shot.
I’m delighted with it though.

This afternoon we went out to Kildare to the Japanese Garden. Been meaning to for a while, especially since we got back from Japan.
I think our first mistake in appreciating the garden was in having been to Japan. Formal gardens there are exquisite – everything has meaning, so, crucially, not a leaf is out of place and they are immaculate, yet lush and beautiful and passionate but calming too.
Japanese gardens Irish style are a bit different. These were designed by a Japanese father and son, and seem to have been in the hands of Irish people for some time now.
Today was first communion day for a good few kids, so small brides of jesus were running around in bright white dresses just waiting to have ice cream dropped on them. Visitors here fell into two categories: Tourists (mainly American naturally) and Communion Parties.
The garden is small, and feels quite claustrophobic. There’s a guided path around, with lots of signs and numbers corresponding to expanations of the meaning in the guidebook. This is a nice idea, wo help people with the interpretation, but in such a small space meant that everywhere you looked the asthetics were somewhat spoiled by a large plastic sign informing you that you were about to enter the tunnel of ignorance or some other part of life. Being offered the choice between the “Path of Life” and the “Easy Path” did teach me a valuable lesson though.
Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. I’m a snob, so the common people everywhere were bound to upset me, and with the signs removed, the garden tidied, some carp in the carp ponds, and the wires and waste pipes hidden from view, it might have been ok.
Weather was nice though.

This was my afternoon tea at the Japanese Gardens at the Irish National Stud.
Setting
The setting was most pleasant. We found a table on the balcony looking out past a large bamboo plant on to a small lake. Lots of small birds were flittering around picking up crumbs.
Teapot
The teapot was what I expected, that is, unsatisfactory. Although it poured well, it only gave enough tea for one and a half cups, which is not enough. Hot water is free people, why should I be expected to pay an extra euro for a two person pot just to have a decent cuppa?
In summary: Good pourer, let down by size.
The Mug
Ahh, catering cups. Plain white, which is good, but too thick, an unattractive shape, and didn’t fit properly on the saucer. A good match for the teapot. Not worth wasting any more words on.
The Beverage
Cheap black tea which stewed quickly thanks to the previously mentioned stingy pot size. Euch.
The Cake
Now, this is where the experience was redeemed. I didn’t have high hopes for the cake, it looked a bit dry. It was the second last piece of cake on offer, and the only option, my companion having taken the final piece of cheesecake. I haveto admit, I was suprised. Dense and cocoaey, this was chocolate cake made by someone who appreciated chocolate. The portion was just about right, and, while I am partial to gooey butter icing on chocolate cakes, on this occasion the more traditional type worked very nicely indeed.

These are two of my favourite plants at the moment, in one of the window boxes on the patio that does for my garden. We had 5 minutes of sun so I took the opportunity to play with my new camera.
The yellow one looks like Sideshow Bob’s hair, which is why I bought it. Well, that and it was half price.
The red one arrived as if by magic one day almost a year ago, sulked in the pot for a good while looking kinda flat and small and boring, then suddenly sprouted really long stalks which flowered the other week. It’s cool.

I get the same bus each day. It gets me to work roughly on time, which is close enough for me. Today it took an hour and a half to get to my desk though, which is a bit much by anyone’s standards.
Anyway, I get on at the first stop, and I’m usually waiting there when the bus pulls up. I great the driver with a cheery ‘Good morning’, pay my fare, and head up to my usual seat. Top floor, right at the front on the left hand side.
And this is the thing. I was running a bit late this morning, so had to rush for the bus – and there was someone sitting in my seat. The cheek of it!
I was initially annoyed, but as I took another seat further back I realised it was a GOOD THING. See, I’ve been getting a bit worried about this whole usual seat thing. Surely it’s not healthy to always sit in the same place and spurn all the other seats. Now, I know that I could have tested it in a normal way, by sitting somewhere else through choice, but I haven’t been able to do that. Which is what was worrying me. But this morning I had to sit in another seat, and did so without freaking out and waiting for the next bus.

Change. I can do it. I’m one step further away from becoming crazy cat lady.

I’m 27.
I’m not sure I’m happy being 27.
I liked being 26. It was clearly mid-twenties, a little more mature than 25, but close enough to it to not feel old. I don’t feel old, I know 27 isn’t old, but I’m now aware of the ageing process, put it that way.
I think I’d always set myself rough aims of where I wanted to be when I was 28, and although I think setting stuff like that is stupid and it’s not something I live by or worry about, maybe that’s what’s got me worried.
Maybe my biological clock has just started ticking.
Hell.

Now I really don’t feel like writing the whole post again.

I was writing about my general lack of commitment to anything – how I get these big ideas, and start things, but never really follow through.

I’d written about my gardening, and knitting, and the half finished projects left sat around the house, and about how I hadn’t posted anything much here, and maybe this was going to be another one of those projects, but the post was long, and witty, and interesting, and I was considering letting actual people know about the site, but now I’m not so sure. I might just keep it secret for a little bit longer.

note: this time I’m going to copy the post so that when it logs me out I can just paste it again and post right away. stupid computer thinking it can get the better of me.

About time.
I set up a blog, worry I may not have things to say, stuff happens, I want to blog it, and where’s my blog? Down, that’s where.
Anyway, all is well with the world again, I shall continue to play, and will investigate moving said blog elsewhere.