tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59953374109582287822024-03-05T15:35:58.124-08:00After the bread roundAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-32921785472582255532017-10-03T06:30:00.001-07:002017-10-03T10:00:37.293-07:00Ryanair - I like it.<div dir="auto"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetTduq4fBDrVmdLUcXyTNFJT-1IQsUMM_2BkCkFR6dADfWjFWTpY_bmu4eTj3F2tZyEd8lvDot-hNLRHbSyTgmuMqvjte4QNuQVsdy7HYFeCwr0TQdfoIBJFnVMxSbN7_HaW084rMfYr8/s640/blogger-image--265311645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetTduq4fBDrVmdLUcXyTNFJT-1IQsUMM_2BkCkFR6dADfWjFWTpY_bmu4eTj3F2tZyEd8lvDot-hNLRHbSyTgmuMqvjte4QNuQVsdy7HYFeCwr0TQdfoIBJFnVMxSbN7_HaW084rMfYr8/s640/blogger-image--265311645.jpg"></a></div>Ryanair has always been an easy target for the eternal begrudger and people who like to complain, moan and gernerally live happily in a world where everything is wrong and they are the permanently wronged ones. </span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For me, Ryanair was always the godsend way of affordable travel between the old and the new home. They have made flying as easy as taking the bus and reduced the distance between Ireland and Germany to something manageable and affordable </span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div dir="auto"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I opted for Ireland as my home as early as the 80s when I left the university in Bonn to study in Trinity. There I met my husband and basically stayed in Ireland. Flying home could cost anything between £300 and £500 and I went home rarely, my parents kindly footing the bill to see me at Christmas and in the summer. In between I hitched lifts on trucks which worked very well and was totally safe if probably quite unconventional.<br><br>Then came the kids and ferry travel twice a year. Normally that worked perfectly but inbetween, sometimes travel became crucial, for illness, for funerals, for celebrations not to be missed or just for a talk that could not bear the phone. For these days I owe Ryanair so much that I will never quarrel with them. Again and again they made travel possible and easy.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qpV3aQduoEkfid7uYIyFohbcfB6si7952Ms5kNdwoQjGaD9LOr1Rcdl3KM0zo6pBN9Z3FKu90M_SWXZSVeAwsc4C9o9bg8N4Xh6rmNu_CKshYlvqVw8w6wicrCqMbw4w0A9Kl2p3yW39/s640/blogger-image--1827414788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qpV3aQduoEkfid7uYIyFohbcfB6si7952Ms5kNdwoQjGaD9LOr1Rcdl3KM0zo6pBN9Z3FKu90M_SWXZSVeAwsc4C9o9bg8N4Xh6rmNu_CKshYlvqVw8w6wicrCqMbw4w0A9Kl2p3yW39/s640/blogger-image--1827414788.jpg"></a></div><br>Yes, I doubted their wisdom of disallowing handbags or duty free bags and their general idea to make everything an add on on their really cheap tickets. But for me, even with all the add ons, the tickets are cheap and affordable. They do exactly what it says on the ticket - get me and mine from one place to another without any fuss. I travelled on my own, with three or four very young children. I travelled with my father who was not great to walk and not once - not once - did I have reason to complain. Staff was always kind and polite and if my bag was too big, it was too big and sometimes I got caught and sometimes I did not. A gamble, but my gamble and not their fault.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVB5Vc35ulVqJYiheKz2E-UzvYEmRiuE8J6isTRjwirxqO-PSe3YDMn9kPl8yn4N24kZccuqxSFs_NWcpEHj6t6RrUgInpHWrwC6bLvz0WGcH-WX9InVfX9c09nFlK77OTbt2LOC_uW1ZB/s640/blogger-image-1900911582.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVB5Vc35ulVqJYiheKz2E-UzvYEmRiuE8J6isTRjwirxqO-PSe3YDMn9kPl8yn4N24kZccuqxSFs_NWcpEHj6t6RrUgInpHWrwC6bLvz0WGcH-WX9InVfX9c09nFlK77OTbt2LOC_uW1ZB/s640/blogger-image-1900911582.jpg"></a></div></span></div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>I am writing this in Cologne at the airport after two days with my mother - flying over for nothing more crucial than helping her pickle the pumpkins. My luck held as it does and neither of the flights was cancelled. We had a great time and I'm planning the next trip for next month.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2c5vlESj_uV89_YYNBp_TTaA9KG-A3ToRVD9ozQghZL1tVa4E3nAuSQZ9CKG7wbRI91fuzODuhS-w7uRjBLm84hcFPL-eleaHvjJdXS2enbqP2hWPcWcEinaRWvXmfRR2WWLvJzWwQSg/s640/blogger-image--1894761251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_2c5vlESj_uV89_YYNBp_TTaA9KG-A3ToRVD9ozQghZL1tVa4E3nAuSQZ9CKG7wbRI91fuzODuhS-w7uRjBLm84hcFPL-eleaHvjJdXS2enbqP2hWPcWcEinaRWvXmfRR2WWLvJzWwQSg/s640/blogger-image--1894761251.jpg"></a></div><br>Not only for me and my travel plans but for Ryanair, for all the people depending on it and for air travel as a whole, I hope very much that Ryanair is doing well and will continue to fly and fly in the face of conventional airways. And I hope my fellow travellers who are all making use of the cheap tickets might put a sock in it. The choice is yours. Make it and please stop moaning !!!!! <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKvLd_Y7lnFmJuj_JqIvgxuySUGEL0DfY_EeuXfBJbomzFOEoKtwIZtU3BuW1rC_L0YknBb0EdVuQFCwNjILi4CHDU0ngDdenGBoItcrvQ5g-O07eZBgy38HBL_pGMsgmMks1ZgFTE0D2/s640/blogger-image--172725311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitKvLd_Y7lnFmJuj_JqIvgxuySUGEL0DfY_EeuXfBJbomzFOEoKtwIZtU3BuW1rC_L0YknBb0EdVuQFCwNjILi4CHDU0ngDdenGBoItcrvQ5g-O07eZBgy38HBL_pGMsgmMks1ZgFTE0D2/s640/blogger-image--172725311.jpg"></a></div></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-58796890669927263332017-09-22T00:04:00.001-07:002017-09-22T01:09:52.877-07:00Our customers are our quality control<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKPr4Ng4iXJeDqCErJybmxTqAZZtw-yJsy6EjobwxmqVt4pyyMEzOxhRuHfu24V_tR7_QxxIibO6YYtyBimS7xvqM-LuM8j-YzJfncxfXLwawWndJ4a-gICszws1GcDS-HMsxAhmRt2Vm/s640/blogger-image--1452827902.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCKPr4Ng4iXJeDqCErJybmxTqAZZtw-yJsy6EjobwxmqVt4pyyMEzOxhRuHfu24V_tR7_QxxIibO6YYtyBimS7xvqM-LuM8j-YzJfncxfXLwawWndJ4a-gICszws1GcDS-HMsxAhmRt2Vm/s640/blogger-image--1452827902.jpg"></a></div>This month one of our breads experienced problems. For a couple of days the Soda bread, a moist, wholemeal buttermilk soda, stayed soft in the centre and you would only have been able to eat the outside couple of slices. Before we noticed, about three or four batches went out which means that between 30 and 40 breads might have gone out substandard as they say or just not good enough. This can happen easily enough when you are making bread by hand. Changed rotas mean changed routines, The new harvest coming in means that flours have changed and now take less or more moisture and recipes have to adapt and change. Ovens might have been that little bit colder than they should have been. In rural Ireland without three phase electricity, our electric ovens sometimes challenge the net and may not be able to run at full heat – again something we may not notice on time. So, baking, while not rocket science, still demands permanent attention and focus and sometimes things can go wrong. That never means that we are trying to cut corners or don’t care what quality our bread is. It only ever means that we have missed a change and we don’t ever miss it for long. So, the point is that we are not infallible and that sometimes, thankfully very rarely, the quality is just not what it should be. If we notice, the bread does not go out, if we do not, we depend on you, our customers to tell us. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxQFn3Br0ToyH_dNSL1IJA40nKRmhzDDP0MUC16IvNtUWO3yKwNSmlxgsh2ngeucoOaO9wL_aasYaMdZnBcNWuzDxa69yZ9YmrzeE4jIzqIsJAf7q5psH23Boh95LzdjtZ30tkL0gA2W2/s640/blogger-image-1362063976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUxQFn3Br0ToyH_dNSL1IJA40nKRmhzDDP0MUC16IvNtUWO3yKwNSmlxgsh2ngeucoOaO9wL_aasYaMdZnBcNWuzDxa69yZ9YmrzeE4jIzqIsJAf7q5psH23Boh95LzdjtZ30tkL0gA2W2/s640/blogger-image-1362063976.jpg"></a></div>As those of you who did tell us will know, we never presume you to be wrong. We will always listen, take note and always, always replace the bread for free. I actually am so grateful for quick, constructive feedback ,that I gladly throw in a few free scones or another free loaf and always a most appreciative thank you!! Obviously, the quicker you point this out to us, the quicker we can fix the problem which – in the case of the Soda we now have. <div><br></div><div>However, we only had one customer who handed the bread back into one of the shops the next day. A regular customer who brought the bread back the next day, explained the problem, took a new one and is – for this week anyway, our favourite customer. She brought the bread in the Good Earth in Kilkenny, I don’t know her, but in the off chance that you read this, a sincere thank you very much. </div><div><br></div><div>Once we noticed the problem we notified our customers and let the shops know that we had had an issue and that brought out a few customers who said “ yes, I did not notice and didn’ t want to say…..” Why not please and how am I meant to notice if you don’t say?? We make over 15 different varieties every morning and can’t try them all everyday. We do try and taste and check and keep an eye but obviously things pass under the radar and we depend on you for honest feed back. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And then of course there is the customer who notices a deterioration in quality, a problem with the bread and does nothing and avoids the bread in future. Or the customer who notices the problem, throws away the bread --- and tells all his friends to not buy with us because he bought this soft Soda bread there. This customer actually does damage and we don’t deserve this and neither does any other producer whose production process goes off kilter for a brief interlude. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So please, if you like our bread and you like what we do, please be on our team and give us the feedback, tell us the issues and if there is something wrong, give me a ring, make us aware and help us out. You may mean to be kind by not complaining but I would much rather you were kind while complaining. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UBU5T9telCkfNFp_6-xeBWD6HGwkHKhzyQC29ft9jMG4zS-h8dkjH5Kn9YlkMTbfHe1VoJlYoWBTwk-PijqRw8mZ0kYwl-J2lCVvNbTrG2YPmiKiYeji_ExB5T7vwtbwqXLp6ahPVUK0/s640/blogger-image-1309592615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UBU5T9telCkfNFp_6-xeBWD6HGwkHKhzyQC29ft9jMG4zS-h8dkjH5Kn9YlkMTbfHe1VoJlYoWBTwk-PijqRw8mZ0kYwl-J2lCVvNbTrG2YPmiKiYeji_ExB5T7vwtbwqXLp6ahPVUK0/s640/blogger-image-1309592615.jpg"></a></div><p></p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-8420277278315677592017-09-13T01:18:00.001-07:002017-09-13T01:29:29.063-07:00Trading in Herbert Park in Dublin<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZGzQ3ixZ_Rdvv2gktFGryZ5FdfuQdkV9CtrtADnX4_cxWMETsyLBvrmzQHj2A5jeUUmBjFBrUopHuBnNAVWPRLSTwiQGGQA2V6jlchz2BLDrQ4ToczpGBGQvFOMS7v7R6mzlPPXBss59/s640/blogger-image--1015751950.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQZGzQ3ixZ_Rdvv2gktFGryZ5FdfuQdkV9CtrtADnX4_cxWMETsyLBvrmzQHj2A5jeUUmBjFBrUopHuBnNAVWPRLSTwiQGGQA2V6jlchz2BLDrQ4ToczpGBGQvFOMS7v7R6mzlPPXBss59/s640/blogger-image--1015751950.jpg"></a></div>Well here we are – trading Sundays in Herbert Park in Dublin. Even in the wind and rain last Sunday, you get a great feeling of community with gazillions of kids on wheels of some sort, with the soccer academy kids in stark blue and the hockey girls in green, with busy tennis courts and a bodgia or boules match in progress – competitors dressed in white - calm and concentrated. Through the park cuts a tarmac path with stalls on either side. With about 15 stalls, most of which serve street food, we are enjoying ourselves and compensating for the early morning with an awful lot of food. Beside us is “Take the Cake” and we most certainly do. Later on in the day, pizza is called for and sausages, and dumplings and ice cream and organic fruit and a lovely bunch of flowers to take home. The two student members of Speltbakers are planning to take on this market and I’ll be glad to get my Sunday back but for now – I am enjoying writing this blog in “Lolly and Cooks”, the Park’s coffee shop and trying to get a feel for who lives here, who shops here and what bread they might like to buy. To make this trip worthwhile we need to sell well and the jury is still out as to whether we will in this so very different community to Kilkenny or Carlow.<br><br>An hour away from the stall, an hour of people watching, an hour of stopping mself from giving people unwanted advice. Like when you’re out with your kids, don’t talk business on the phone and when your kids ask you a question, you’ve got to answer and do leave a tip on the table if you leave it completely ruined, requiring both a hoover and a wet cloth. So far, I’m restraining myself, and just enjoying listening in. My mother always prefaces unasked for advice with “somebody has to tell them” , I used to disagree but I now I am wondering sometimes.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4MUIFr6kF9oz4gJL440HOMq43ftKIya19yF-MLMgoNCqS9Td9dpnbU3NPauEYxrmzU7GSVhdFwTDLoO-4f4qrWnadnxpp07KEOuNGrzQ9RooKoVCPXqTyDJoFzjd_qCsD7pqhdoDWUyu/s640/blogger-image--1614995615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd4MUIFr6kF9oz4gJL440HOMq43ftKIya19yF-MLMgoNCqS9Td9dpnbU3NPauEYxrmzU7GSVhdFwTDLoO-4f4qrWnadnxpp07KEOuNGrzQ9RooKoVCPXqTyDJoFzjd_qCsD7pqhdoDWUyu/s640/blogger-image--1614995615.jpg"></a></div><br>Restraining myself, I concentrated on my own work and stopped listening all around me. I thought on hashtags which apparently I need. Tweeting without hashtags apparently is pointless so # it is ( as it took me a while to find the #on my keyboard) I understand I have to cultivate specific # for the business so #speltgreat will reflect the many times people think they are being original with “How do you spell that. #loveyourmarket will cover my love of local market shopping and .#greatfood will signify how much I love the shops we supply and the big array of really good food. So please follow our blog, out tweets and our general idea and tell me what you think when you see me at a coffee shop listening in to anyone who happens to be close enough and wondering if I will ever be calm enough to dress in white and play boules and afterwards – no doubt heading home to a sorted life and drinks before dinner………<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhGyuuzHHg8uUWXhGazDcjCL-mKn_TQ1Bo0BvnDXV57HaDB4IjDVS2i0r_jwZ59Oy8jiaQsoNJtNJKzR7X4C-s_TR4N1AXIqO7-ay9xzDBDb9-_W9EvBZxPc03yuxDWqYQheTb5ltbdS0/s640/blogger-image-762126934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhGyuuzHHg8uUWXhGazDcjCL-mKn_TQ1Bo0BvnDXV57HaDB4IjDVS2i0r_jwZ59Oy8jiaQsoNJtNJKzR7X4C-s_TR4N1AXIqO7-ay9xzDBDb9-_W9EvBZxPc03yuxDWqYQheTb5ltbdS0/s640/blogger-image-762126934.jpg"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhGyuuzHHg8uUWXhGazDcjCL-mKn_TQ1Bo0BvnDXV57HaDB4IjDVS2i0r_jwZ59Oy8jiaQsoNJtNJKzR7X4C-s_TR4N1AXIqO7-ay9xzDBDb9-_W9EvBZxPc03yuxDWqYQheTb5ltbdS0/s640/blogger-image-762126934.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFeJeUA9FIU_KSNLDs8mDBM41KHt2Dmrd1mTSKjiescgZDaoXknQy-f0huSeJiM_optfZUydBURKdsuwTZxITZO2s0NLsGGoNmM4G6ajPg-Wf8klgUuz9c_fLw9oEKSZn3my5itPI9nym/s640/blogger-image--253326754.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFeJeUA9FIU_KSNLDs8mDBM41KHt2Dmrd1mTSKjiescgZDaoXknQy-f0huSeJiM_optfZUydBURKdsuwTZxITZO2s0NLsGGoNmM4G6ajPg-Wf8klgUuz9c_fLw9oEKSZn3my5itPI9nym/s640/blogger-image--253326754.jpg"></a></div></div></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-87214655681569091102017-09-01T00:35:00.001-07:002017-09-01T00:59:50.520-07:00Take a holiday - get off the hamster wheel!<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFt7MlxsKBq310WHsalLdyVt-VNXBzetCMmMjjTRXNzjupr2cE4u8GGtitautaR_qmT5vqGypl7R8TKGT4Q6qe6cthB3nbDhCOE8zEnbqCoLvhuJyPXNbWYdx4BBUK1eYeF43BdwxkZTNK/s640/blogger-image-2060744014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFt7MlxsKBq310WHsalLdyVt-VNXBzetCMmMjjTRXNzjupr2cE4u8GGtitautaR_qmT5vqGypl7R8TKGT4Q6qe6cthB3nbDhCOE8zEnbqCoLvhuJyPXNbWYdx4BBUK1eYeF43BdwxkZTNK/s640/blogger-image-2060744014.jpg"></a></i></div><i>After the bread round</i> is turning to before the bread round as the blog returns and the short interruption due to technical inability is over. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As a reasonably new and definitely very tiny business in the food sector , I often get asked how I can afford to close for three weeks and take a holiday. Yes, it is expensive and we save for those three weeks all year long but it is definitely worth it. As I get off the hamster wheel once a year, I relax for a short while, recover and recuperate and then turn and have a good long look at the wheel and the why, the who, the “Whose idea was this” and - we make changes. This year, we brought back a new recipe and we changed the sourdough process to make a better bread and a tighter work schedule. We changed a few hours and gained an extra pair of hands in son no 2, who very kindly is taking a gap year in the business. He started as second baker in third year in school and is now training up as first baker - moving his start time <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">from 4.15am to 2am</a> and moving me to the office. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrFf4D8zEvVVn0712qwqj5Onnt6gR73qhXYJIacgCPqV6OyrhXLFrQEd5surV225y1-XmkdVka0xaLaJl2pkMVFZfsFo4GKLWkc_FJsrPeJHCU5dWDUqhdVXJjmZhHNKwhZArBrZAfa1B/s640/blogger-image--865519181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrFf4D8zEvVVn0712qwqj5Onnt6gR73qhXYJIacgCPqV6OyrhXLFrQEd5surV225y1-XmkdVka0xaLaJl2pkMVFZfsFo4GKLWkc_FJsrPeJHCU5dWDUqhdVXJjmZhHNKwhZArBrZAfa1B/s640/blogger-image--865519181.jpg"></a></div>Once a week, he takes an early morning and once a week, I take an office night. I <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">start at 2am</a> also – theoretically to be there as back up, in practise to tackle the VAT returns ( last week) and the social media and the blog this week. VAT returns are easy compared to twitter and instagram and blogger. 5 hours later as the rest of the house rises for breakfast and the amazing peace of the night house is broken, I have reconnected with my twitter account, decided to abandon instagram and have actually managed to put a follow button on my blog!!! You may laugh, but that counts as an achievement and please – if you like what I write at all, try that button and follow us on <i>After the bread round</i>. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">On my travels this morning, I also discovered that our website seems to be deactivated, that I had over 50 notifications on twitter, that there are lots of blogs that I’d like to follow and why didn’t I - and that a night spent in the bake house, producing steaming, wonderfully fragrant and crusty loaves, baguettes and Stromboli is massively more satisfying than a night struggling against my technical inabilities in trying to keep up with modern media. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, if you watch this space, you’ll see an active blog, a buzzing twitter account and a website which will hopefully be up and running again once all these helplines that I emailed this morning get back to me. Now, as the bakers outside finish off and the cars head to Waterford, Kilkenny and Carrick, we get back to important stuff like our new Super bread or athletes bread as it is called in Germany. There the bakers association and the Olympic council got together to devise this energy boosting bread, based on rye and spelt and brimful with seeds and sprouted seeds. We got the recipe from a German baker in Mechernich and we’ve been practicing for a while. This week the bread made an outing to Inistioge on Tuesday and Kilkenny on Thursday. Tomorrow you can taste it in Carlow and then it will be part of our everyday offerings. Good things happen off the hamster wheel. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOhMgRGH-UvTjy1zf90rz1f4sIuiipA_EAQHMvWa0AJS-sq7kQYwLqx8-DkQeiUlsIEoozbxkS63y19ju6eFlD3mXPgHPRD3f7iiUt79vJBLHfkbGbEnBaiZps9TBio3fD04DGPD664dV/s640/blogger-image-53984319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVOhMgRGH-UvTjy1zf90rz1f4sIuiipA_EAQHMvWa0AJS-sq7kQYwLqx8-DkQeiUlsIEoozbxkS63y19ju6eFlD3mXPgHPRD3f7iiUt79vJBLHfkbGbEnBaiZps9TBio3fD04DGPD664dV/s640/blogger-image-53984319.jpg"></a></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-2396390085358352942017-08-09T04:45:00.001-07:002017-08-09T04:53:46.666-07:00Travel – permanently curious<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX5UMQnJCSwioVZLEas6fCtiLOGG0V8eieLoJS091QvFhR3SJg5ZDzaIKknVFUZ3Tl2uBbbyokVeUMpdDCp6n7xEya8UTSkRHXljkT4kLtOhvwwuLS9LKGYSS7Vr89kXdSXv38ybeSgBw/s640/blogger-image-1651470366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzX5UMQnJCSwioVZLEas6fCtiLOGG0V8eieLoJS091QvFhR3SJg5ZDzaIKknVFUZ3Tl2uBbbyokVeUMpdDCp6n7xEya8UTSkRHXljkT4kLtOhvwwuLS9LKGYSS7Vr89kXdSXv38ybeSgBw/s640/blogger-image-1651470366.jpg"></a></div>We’re back to baking, the bread is back in the shops and on the market stalls, life is good, nights are short and the holidays are over. Isn’t it amazing how time moves on whatever we do and how all things come to an end – the good and the bad. Yesterday was the first day to bake and I was not at all sure that I’d remember all the recepies and the routine but when you actually stand in the bakehouse at 2 in the morning, all becomes routine and the holiday a short interlude that is slowly turning into memories and lovely photographs. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGssXSV3ZP-dKZlo3UJH7m5-7y7myVevnnnfNj3tyzEe4HvI849Levnd6wzon42fQhpyfaukFeDwGjzXPApoewoJUiLfwBNhAFhQzEhxDjDkDE1wV2YdXVcP_hr4fDOmFSdGoi2TCMR2rz/s640/blogger-image-720255927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGssXSV3ZP-dKZlo3UJH7m5-7y7myVevnnnfNj3tyzEe4HvI849Levnd6wzon42fQhpyfaukFeDwGjzXPApoewoJUiLfwBNhAFhQzEhxDjDkDE1wV2YdXVcP_hr4fDOmFSdGoi2TCMR2rz/s640/blogger-image-720255927.jpg"></a></div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As every year, we travelled to Germany this summer to spend two weeks with family over there. We have always taken the long way in the summer and travel the roads and the sea. With only me driving this used to take two days with a break in London. These days, with more drivers in the car, we go straight through and drive the 1000km with two ferry breaks inbetween. We snooze in the car and some can do this better than others but whichever way, five people in a Transit Connect for 24 hours is not comfortable but well doable. The ferry creates the break and the snooze stretched out on benches – with possibly a little bit of beer or gaming thrown in. Comfort it isn;t but fun it can be and for us, something we have done every year and something which is a tradition and a definite part of our year. Travelling by land like this also give you a great idea how far apart places really are. Geography becomes reality as we reach the coast, wait for the boat and reach the other side of the Channel or the Irish Sea. England becomes a distance to be travelled through not only a point destination and we learn interesting cultural facts like the fact that the Welsh close their motorways at night for roadworks and like to have their diversion signs in Welsh – a language with an inordinate amount of consonants. Every single year we come to Dover and see their amazing fortification on the famous cliffs and every year we say we should look at that and some year we will – but not this year. This year we arrived in Dover at 6 in the morming and discovered that they put out their recycling in bags in the street and that the seagulls think that’s feeding time. Also, no coffee shop is open except for a 24h Mac Donalds which was not the super success, as opposed to the amazing Beach Diner in Fishguard in Wales which was open early ( when we hit in on the way back) and served the best breakfast I have eaten for a long time. Locally sourced meat might have been the key or possibly the 12 hours spent in the car......<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQBOfPturrfn8u7gqKMUm2gnUKjJakd4Rl-M9G3WtUJkAfZ5TLwHqBVITVM1EcY6WMJ5m5JaSMaLHhHlx8JNqC8zkNRdJTGpUzsoSLbH8K5ZLnu7BC_b42KkJ0YUgSuhvjbC0IKp2kFbW/s640/blogger-image-419779654.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQBOfPturrfn8u7gqKMUm2gnUKjJakd4Rl-M9G3WtUJkAfZ5TLwHqBVITVM1EcY6WMJ5m5JaSMaLHhHlx8JNqC8zkNRdJTGpUzsoSLbH8K5ZLnu7BC_b42KkJ0YUgSuhvjbC0IKp2kFbW/s640/blogger-image-419779654.jpg"></a></div>Taking a break from family, we took 2 days in Den Helder in North Holland just for us, a 21st had to be celebrated with wind and surf and beach and so we hit the motorway again for 4 hours and left the hills of the Eifel near Cologne for the astonishingly flat lands of the north Holland. Courtesy of Airbnb, we had a lovely house in a very pedestriansised part of the town where everyone seems to cycle these lovely big bikes with comfortable saddles. Nobody wears a helmet and biccyle paths abound – as do canals and deichs. Walking, boating, cyling, my kind of place. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">As always it was great to see another place, meet new people and do new things. Often we think we’d like to travel and think that travel needs lots of money and time and in the end the majority of us just don’t go. So, since, neither time nor a surplus of money are on the horizon for <i>After the bread round</i> any time soon, I’ve opted for the tiny version of the grand tour. I travel for two days at a time, a weekend here, a day there. It all addsup to lots of new places and experiences and courtesy of the always available pasta and sauce , it is never really expensive. This time I got to visit an old submarine of the Dutch navy. Hugely interesting but an immensely tiny space for 70 men. A car with five people seemed massively luxuriously after that.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQafHppL3W5r84QdWgIsLXJ0mVFWmfkIqFjH3ZmYjzgSX_yPK2FnazoZee8qOK-BwZ1N1VjIlg07WBwIQO2oIlIkoKNNxP0oRB2qt3VOxdzmStIyDNZMeR3_npgp7omjqh9FYj9hgJ0_d/s640/blogger-image-534605764.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQafHppL3W5r84QdWgIsLXJ0mVFWmfkIqFjH3ZmYjzgSX_yPK2FnazoZee8qOK-BwZ1N1VjIlg07WBwIQO2oIlIkoKNNxP0oRB2qt3VOxdzmStIyDNZMeR3_npgp7omjqh9FYj9hgJ0_d/s640/blogger-image-534605764.jpg"></a></div><br></div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Ours is the age of cheap travel so make the most of it. </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-2635852033757148432017-07-19T22:48:00.001-07:002017-07-19T22:58:23.389-07:00Books, books and more books<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKDhrT0kikI6EH1oA6axi6hC4Hqevh18fpoTLDXbxcxUm06QVPZUAvz-m-TMS-7ksCMs9xTH226RhW1sm0n7dZD-mBmJpDx4FG3MTzK7fg9lABR2WTMapJBAyHBXZPtNIQ7ylBIbAJTgE/s640/blogger-image-485822791.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGKDhrT0kikI6EH1oA6axi6hC4Hqevh18fpoTLDXbxcxUm06QVPZUAvz-m-TMS-7ksCMs9xTH226RhW1sm0n7dZD-mBmJpDx4FG3MTzK7fg9lABR2WTMapJBAyHBXZPtNIQ7ylBIbAJTgE/s640/blogger-image-485822791.jpg"></a></div><br>Books are the ultimate treat for me, a good book is better than<br>television or social media any time, a book will make everything<br>better and a good book will make many things perfect.<br>The good things in life need a book to make them perfect. Christmas<br>without a new book is nearly as bad as Christmas without a new pyjama<br>and holidays without a new book are seriously lacking while even a<br>stay in hospital can be made bearable with a book. Days that threaten<br>to go really bad can be survived with a book – like the time I arrived<br>in a new city and found the student accomodaton a serious disaster. I<br>walked the streets until I found a shop that sold supplies and<br>thankfully also a small array – of actually seriously mediocre books.<br>With crackers, cheese, a glass of wine and a book , the student<br>accomodation became a possibility, the first night was weathered and<br>everything panned out ok and turned out to be one of the best years<br>spent in college. Books, you gather, are important, books are both<br>crutch and inspiration, relaxation and – just sometimes - even<br>education. For some strange reason it is not only the content, it is<br>the feel of the book, a real treat to read a good hardback. After the<br>bread round goes with the times – most of the time – and has lots of<br>books on the phone which is also a good way to read but never the same<br>as the real thing. Yesterday, on the deck chair beside the forest<br>swimming pool beside the Steinback brewery ( after the bread round is<br>on holidays....) holding the phone to read was just not the same.<br>Can’t read the screen in the sun and the contrary phone always slipped<br>the screen sideways – just to annoy.<br>Kilkenny has such an amazing abundance of book shops and a wonderful<br>library that there is never a shortage of books anywhere and<br>everywhere there is a wonderful attitude to the seriously long winded<br>and very undecided browser that needs to read half the book before<br>considering to buy. I love bookshops, especially bookshops with<br>chairs.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rGGQAt_XA9aYzD4FDYCaPjy-L78Q-LN61qmTRRTxGIVpg8zj73U736Cph1uACJXbOiokirr_t-i8vwCZHaLIwUXLn45fzkY2SgVXkdlIemrAMzgCQ9weK2lBjsJAZWD1zPe1NuU1CaYa/s640/blogger-image--1140937099.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8rGGQAt_XA9aYzD4FDYCaPjy-L78Q-LN61qmTRRTxGIVpg8zj73U736Cph1uACJXbOiokirr_t-i8vwCZHaLIwUXLn45fzkY2SgVXkdlIemrAMzgCQ9weK2lBjsJAZWD1zPe1NuU1CaYa/s640/blogger-image--1140937099.jpg"></a></div> This year’s holiday book was a very undemanding and<br>uncomplicated and lovely to read novel called How to find love in a<br>book shop by Veronica Henry. One of her characters is only just<br>converted to reading and comes up with this conclusion “ So that’s why<br>people read. Because books explain things: How you thought, and how<br>you behaved, and made you realise you were not alone in doing what you<br>did or feeling what you felt.”Simple, straight forward and not at all<br>bad. Books are one of the keys to life and there is one for every<br>mood and every person. So put down those insipid video’s on your<br>captivating screens and grab a book. After the bread round has just<br>finished the morning read. Still waking up early have the sunny<br>terrace in my mother house – a house full of books – all to myself.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXznx1_P-3K8842RfIpKtrrT2NfjoTxZLEjJ8gx06qR72rudfFiSRnUBdT1YhEYgXbPBrPm2bPTcP9lQm9sfCWYp4JtwsoJuTA7Wvms3ho85FD7QbO9MsOsHdmriLyEh6bjY0OmgGzs4l/s640/blogger-image-1975312485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXznx1_P-3K8842RfIpKtrrT2NfjoTxZLEjJ8gx06qR72rudfFiSRnUBdT1YhEYgXbPBrPm2bPTcP9lQm9sfCWYp4JtwsoJuTA7Wvms3ho85FD7QbO9MsOsHdmriLyEh6bjY0OmgGzs4l/s640/blogger-image-1975312485.jpg"></a></div><br>Shall now start the day and go and negotiate with the local baker to<br>swop recepies. Irish Soda bread against his amazing “Sportler Brot”.<br>If you’re lucky that could be the start of Speltbakers dabbling with<br>rye.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-83274868422510760112017-07-05T03:14:00.000-07:002017-07-05T03:14:18.165-07:00More selling …..<div class="MsoNormal">
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Last week, <i>After the bread</i> round was worried about expensive food festivals and unaffordable stall fees. This week, <i>after the bread round</i>, set up a stall at the National Hounds show in Stradbally. Stall fee €40, easy access, setting up after <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">10 am</a> is perfectly ok and we were involved in choosing stall location as to where we thought we’d fit best. Setting up in front of the van, there was no access hassle, no parking issues, no frazzled wardens – there was in fact nothing but sunshine, horses and hounds and people in snazzy horsy outfits wondering if they could buy a scone for breakfast – and did we have butter? An experiment in selling locations was underway and the easiest set up ever experienced.<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Basically, we wanted to know if we need foody festivals and food orientated venue or will an abundance of people suffice? Will people in any life situation buy bread if it is on offer? For food festivals, people come specifically to buy food and we are surrounded by other food stalls. People who come to our stall most likely are familiar with the benefits of spelt and they know their sourdoughs and yeast loaves. Here, people knew their horses and their hounds, they waited for the lead rein class and the hounds competition, they really came to buy saddles and bridles and halters and when they saw us beside Simon Porter, some meandered over and figured that maybe that bread that they brought for the picnic could do with an improvement. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Stradbally hall is one of the most picturesque estates I know, a lovely old house and very pretty pastoral land with – of course – grazing sheep. They had set up a vast array of horsy entertainment from pony games and lead rein to horse shows and jumping competition. For more entertainment there was side saddle and hussar riding and dog shows not only for the professional hounds but also for any kind of dog you had. Obviously the show is trying to change from a purely competitive event to a fun show and is beginning to succeed. Now, I love horses and I can easily spend a Sunday sitting in the sun and admiring beautiful horses being shown, jumped or led. I also enjoy all the rest, the hassled mothers arriving late, with nervous kids, nervous ponys and the tail not plaited yet. I love seeing the teams gather around their truck with a long table set with table cloth and flowers - for the lunch and tea. Nearly everyone here was here for the day. I really loved watching the style, the dress of the leaders of the lead rein class, the men with bowler hats running nearly as graceful as the horses they are leading and the kids so proud and the dogs so everywhere. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I would enjoy a day out at a horse show anytime. In another life, I would have loved to compete and be part of this world but as it is, having a bread table in the middle of it, is good fun too. Good fun and it worked. We sold nearly all we brought, could have sold more of certain breads and will come again now that we realize what is needed, what people know and what they will buy. To give you the figures, I sold 55% of what I would sell at a really, really good day at SAVOUR. Taking the stall fees into account, that number goes up to 70%. Now add to that, that here I am meeting an entirely new customer base, that there was not an inch of hassle along the way, that the nice man at the bar gave me a free glass of wine, that nobody had to carry anything anywhere and that I only started the bake <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 3.30 am</a> rather than <a dir="ltr" href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors="true">at 1.30am</a>, you do the maths. I think it’s a no brainer. And as I said, I like horses and because it was my lucky day – just when I was seriously regretting no having brought some butter, Bride Mc Donald set up beside us in a horsebox. She was churning and selling butter……..</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Oh, and these kids where the star of the show – pony games: from now on my favourite sport. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-19725781341947166912017-06-27T05:11:00.001-07:002017-06-27T05:31:08.308-07:00Artisan, hand-made and local – when is it true and when not?<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbkMSccKOZlxntfzoKhvk6c9ZKqfCJqGcCLQpycpRpXEZ7JQUvvqeOP2N9tsniJUFKu-gOl5i7bFpdlYNXpLmelWSa1G83EWh5L_tV7jYI7ir1KAUPrzCjEzyly69QAT6Co6bc6vw_uOP/s640/blogger-image--206248550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfbkMSccKOZlxntfzoKhvk6c9ZKqfCJqGcCLQpycpRpXEZ7JQUvvqeOP2N9tsniJUFKu-gOl5i7bFpdlYNXpLmelWSa1G83EWh5L_tV7jYI7ir1KAUPrzCjEzyly69QAT6Co6bc6vw_uOP/s640/blogger-image--206248550.jpg"></a></div>Artisan implies made by hand by a skilled craftsperson, artisan implies a small outfit with dedicated people producing good food, crafts or art. Artisan is also one of the most abused terms of our time as anyone and everyone in the advertising industry clambers on the band wagon of “local”, “artisan”, “hand made”, “hand cut”, “hand roasted” and “hand everything”. So be a bit alert out there and find and support your real small, local producers. You don’t have to, of course, you can buy and eat whatever you like but just be aware that not everything with <i>Glen </i>in the title and with a friendly face on the picture is actually real. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Summer is the time for food festivals and shows, the time when small producers try and get more sales space, more advertising and more exposure and every year it is the time we find we cannot compete with the larger companies that have jumped on the wagon and that can so easily afford the inflated stall fees which for us quite often turn an expected increased profit into an advertising venture. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Before I became a small food producers, I used to organize small craft fairs. When the celtic tiger roared, fees for festivals could be exorbitant and the small artists and crafts people could barely afford to attend. As one of the crafter came back after 3 days in Waterford, he coined the now famous quote: “ I should have been selling f***** rice balloons”. As so often, everyone paid the same stall fee and good, Irish made crafts found themselves beside cheap imports- unable to compete and unable to sell to the - sometimes so sadly - undiscerning consumer. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We still don’t sell rice balloons but try and sell bread and somehow deal with the costs of doing so, especially this year where for no known reason stall fees have gone up across the board. Like many other producers, we do not buy in any of our breads. We make what we sell that morning and therefore what we can sell on any given day is limited. Because we do make everything by hand we need at least two bakers, sometimes three. Because we <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">start at 1 am</a>, we also need sellers that are more awake and can relieve us by lunchtime when even the most upbeat and enthusiastic baker is getting tired. So, when we are faced with stall fees of well over €100 per day or €365 for two days – plus staff costs, transport and ingredients, a sales day very soon does not make any sense at all. And that would be the good days where you actually sell what you make, when many of you good customers come out and buy and appreciate the bread. Other days, when the weather turns Irish and the customers fickle, you’re looking at a full days work ( after, in our case, a full nights work) and a loss in the bargain. Some days you not only get cold and wet and disheartened, you also take a gust of wind to the gazebo that can cost you €50 in replacement parts or at worst €500 for a new one. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hPcc4P_mAZSi-ChExvayjgE0cdzkbAkqsT5GiurCZ5D4gAu5ud4SrvhJt9wCUXMJA6DyRft57AYc8F4yVpR10sJYCjfKjtUm7u8Z_OB8Jn72S63JkBVqZHvLTrjFaNuLsCqch7TRMsyZ/s640/blogger-image--611370425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3hPcc4P_mAZSi-ChExvayjgE0cdzkbAkqsT5GiurCZ5D4gAu5ud4SrvhJt9wCUXMJA6DyRft57AYc8F4yVpR10sJYCjfKjtUm7u8Z_OB8Jn72S63JkBVqZHvLTrjFaNuLsCqch7TRMsyZ/s640/blogger-image--611370425.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We all know these days and we cater for them. We know they are part of market trading and we factor them in. All I ask it that you don’t forget them either and that you know how much we appreciate a kind word and how much a good sales day has to factor in bad sales days </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Without wanting to blow our own trumpet – too much - we are good. Every city, every town has its own amazing food producers, some tiny, some a little bit bigger and some getting into a league where things finally begin to make sense. Every town could set up its own unique style of market, support it’s own producers and supply its own people with these really local, really handmade, really good crafts and foods. That is what food festivals and markets are for and if you price us off the market and instead open your spaces to the big guys than each food festival becomes a copy of the next as the same celebrity chefs do the same demonstrations and the same stalls sell the same produce as they travel the country. It is a very sad day when so many local Kilkenny producers are debating whether they can afford to take a stall at SAVOUR and when the Iverk show loses old established stalls for the same reason. The Iverk show is the first market we ever did – only four years ago. It was the most bread we ever produced in one morning and a great feeling of achievement. We won best novelty bread with our Stromboli that year and we love the Iverk show. This year there is no sense in going and our margins do not allow nostalgia just yet. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>After the bread </i>round would suggest local producers involved in local shows, would like guidelines as to handmade, artisan and local and other ideas to bring the best of the local producers to the local shows.</span></p><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">All just thoughts as we trade happily in Kilkenny, Carlow and Carrick on Suir on regular weekly markets and consider joininga Dublin market in Herbert Park every Sundays. <i>After the bread round</i> checked it out last Sunday and already met the local cake bakery. They are called “Take a cake” and their carrot cake is divine and certainly the reason why the daughter volunteered for the first day selling. Speltbakers are looking forward to another nice market community – and might give the festivals a miss this year. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-8100197920141753282017-06-19T00:45:00.001-07:002017-06-19T01:07:32.296-07:00Food, glorious food<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAAKEXImQDT4BFUQxoUZQ_feAlV1NXIf9ouR0qPt_xT-Jfscy5LTqdzVx55_zwa7ubzlFgu-ibnW3knIrjfreFFvRfyovSTcxGBhpUZaDs3c-DXBpUbAs_7zX1BjVPJ_0RApPqI0hu4jn/s640/blogger-image-728389725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRAAKEXImQDT4BFUQxoUZQ_feAlV1NXIf9ouR0qPt_xT-Jfscy5LTqdzVx55_zwa7ubzlFgu-ibnW3knIrjfreFFvRfyovSTcxGBhpUZaDs3c-DXBpUbAs_7zX1BjVPJ_0RApPqI0hu4jn/s640/blogger-image-728389725.jpg"></div><br></div><i>After the bread round</i>, I tend to think some more about food and I am profoundly grateful to share the food producers spot in shops and on markets with so many amazing producers and products. Last Sunday for example we trialed Sunday trading at the wonderful Waterford County show in Curraghmore estate. For these shows or markets getting there is always a struggle because we make everything we sell that morning. So up early, pack up and drive, get there as the last stall and set up in a hurry. Setting up is now routine and takes all of 15 min max and once we’re set up, it time to relax and grab that first cup of tea. In Curraghmore with that tea there was a choclate tart from <i>Merci Beaucoup</i>, two amazing French pastrychefs from Navan whose table looked stunning and who kept my sugar and energy levels nicely topped up for the day. In Kilkenny, the Truffle fairy fills that need for chocolate after set up and in Carlow there is a choice between one of Mary’s brownies or Deirdre’s crepes with chocolate sauce, roasted hazelnuts and Baileys…… <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpn8BB3vALKfWUt6f1dUzlQJSBruPahYILx3zV92JsjUudrC6BMpqcZZDAaiMiHkdkJg45Ls-DQZMg9dkLWesbD3j74mAYQOTRuI3e0ZZWL7TgVPICurhKjU0m7r8UDOVtuu79Myok6nZ/s640/blogger-image--1733056326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQpn8BB3vALKfWUt6f1dUzlQJSBruPahYILx3zV92JsjUudrC6BMpqcZZDAaiMiHkdkJg45Ls-DQZMg9dkLWesbD3j74mAYQOTRuI3e0ZZWL7TgVPICurhKjU0m7r8UDOVtuu79Myok6nZ/s640/blogger-image--1733056326.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">At markets time passes quickly if it is busy and if it is not, we roam around and buy off each other and the choice is sooooo good and after a long day, dinner has to be quick. In Kilkenny on Thursday it’s organic Schnitzel or fresh salmon and tuna, in Carrick, where we joined a great farmers market only two weeks ago, it is Butlers Farm chicken or pork, in Carlow on Friday the choice is even bigger with meat and fish. High quality fresh veg and eggs everywhere and beautiful pestos and sauces that say “new Ireland” like few other things. Of course desserts are never a problem either. Charley’s cheesecakes </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GrRdLlEGNG1fe6xsmGBZO7LsPC9cjSIiVsiMnOgrNfjSPzVHZFKLZPgOei8W9SwHiGh_5tzfnRoE7h5YsPuaL8a0d4XpbM7LZYyqeoqgfKj0oXX2eICr103LKh5RZJRAdkO6kCDRKJ-S/s640/blogger-image-621596022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5GrRdLlEGNG1fe6xsmGBZO7LsPC9cjSIiVsiMnOgrNfjSPzVHZFKLZPgOei8W9SwHiGh_5tzfnRoE7h5YsPuaL8a0d4XpbM7LZYyqeoqgfKj0oXX2eICr103LKh5RZJRAdkO6kCDRKJ-S/s640/blogger-image-621596022.jpg"></a></div>are a Thursday tradition in our house with the only problem being to choose which one of the many, many temptations to bring home. Collette bakes in Carrick and Mary in Carlow and – at a push we can eat our own chocolate or apple tarts or withdraw a chocolate croissants from the market – there is always one that looks a bit crooked and just has to be eaten. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The same applies in the shops we sell in , delicatessen, coffee shops, farm shops, food stores. Everywhere, excellent old established or new food products crowd the shelves and everywhere I could easily buy more than I sell and it is extraordinarily easy to assemble a wonderful dinner and a great weekend’s array of food on that bread round to eat <i>after the bread round</i>. So, try it out and get out of those multinational chains and supermarkets. Go find the local shop, the deli, the farm shop, the market and see what you can get there. We are not overpriced luxury items for the well to do. We grow, produce and sell the very best food you can buy and very good value for your money. Apparently our grandparent generation spend nearly a quarter of their income on food while we have reduced that to less than an eigth, preferring to spend our money on leisure pursuits instead. If we really are what we eat, let’s eat a bit better, lets feed our families a bit better and go search out the high quality food that’s right at our door. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GBMsg1Rapw4sPMG4GXTcf4QU5tFzuF3TGcvLXXS-xOkqDvNOuqyngqr3qXgZS22Junte01ZIrMt3pehDHSpIffjCbU_Ox-dZrzydFW8faO1iThPRqGFPCjHUDYMeW_Cr3diuzXlwvmEG/s640/blogger-image--1568639105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GBMsg1Rapw4sPMG4GXTcf4QU5tFzuF3TGcvLXXS-xOkqDvNOuqyngqr3qXgZS22Junte01ZIrMt3pehDHSpIffjCbU_Ox-dZrzydFW8faO1iThPRqGFPCjHUDYMeW_Cr3diuzXlwvmEG/s640/blogger-image--1568639105.jpg"></a></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-43002438517233554812017-06-09T12:50:00.001-07:002017-06-09T13:06:00.025-07:00One run and one election<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyd7UELqaHRUEpHkqZ-6zBPV2D0WZj02HgQGgahsD2vWrgymKscLRyteq8uWfZdVKr9HqhUkSa3PBzI7R0M9HDrDRHD0uJYtxoSfR0LEv3I213urRRCnxzNQn6YKHlHQUugLpBz7sDN3sb/s640/blogger-image--850541530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyd7UELqaHRUEpHkqZ-6zBPV2D0WZj02HgQGgahsD2vWrgymKscLRyteq8uWfZdVKr9HqhUkSa3PBzI7R0M9HDrDRHD0uJYtxoSfR0LEv3I213urRRCnxzNQn6YKHlHQUugLpBz7sDN3sb/s640/blogger-image--850541530.jpg"></div>Some things develop over night and sometimes – very rarely mind you –working at night can have its advantages. Last night, while I was putting the sourdoughs in their baskets and making the first yeast doughs, Theresa May saw her grand plan collapse. Exit polls gave way to first counts and first seats were filled while Labour resurfaced as a political force in England as the unlikely leader Corbyn brought the party back from disaster. As the first breads were baked out, the decision was a hung parliament and I reckoned, I had a future as a political tipster, having predicted him as Prime Minister. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOZeyUf5F3TIFja6kbnKz5elqy-IXpy-L5jSKnAClNhYXIY2axNE_HlmtUoYHx323DYTNW1trAiJldUxRbHZ7uChWU82R_5bRwgfeDAfMyxOzMBBNyU0w5y-VfYAGpElzqHzaUvNifTLT/s640/blogger-image--688482072.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqOZeyUf5F3TIFja6kbnKz5elqy-IXpy-L5jSKnAClNhYXIY2axNE_HlmtUoYHx323DYTNW1trAiJldUxRbHZ7uChWU82R_5bRwgfeDAfMyxOzMBBNyU0w5y-VfYAGpElzqHzaUvNifTLT/s640/blogger-image--688482072.jpg"></a></div>Pulling up at the farmers market in Carrick on Suir, I realize that my skills as a tipster are not so good after all, as the DUP has made a deal already and Theresa May looks set to continue – with not much of a mandate and probably with half her party barking at her heals. <i>After the bread round</i>, I decide that I much prefer the creativity, simplicity and peace of baking to the pure nastiness of politics and go back to tomorrow’s baking plan and to the miserable realization that – in a moment of madness – I have registered to take a stall at the Waterford County fair and will now have to bake this Sunday as well. <i>After the bread round</i> is short of sleep and that even though all that running is meant to have injected terrible amounts of oxygen and energy into the system. <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The weekend came and the weekend went and what was the big red letter day of the women’s mini marathon came and went too. The day was clear but threatening to rain and we made our way to Dublin ready to get wet but convinced it wouldn’t rain. We believe, you see, that rain is a mental attitude!!! Many, many years ago, when same daughter and I – she was being home schooled at the time and was all of 5 – went on a “school tour” to Dublin, it poured all day, except when we stepped out into it. Whether we came out of a shop, a church, a museum or a bus, we stepped out into it with an assured “ lovely sunny day today” and it would nearly immediately oblige as showers gave way to sunny spells. Ever since that day, we reckon we have the weather under control. Also back in the dark ages before the weather app, I used to ring the weather line before trips to the Zoo or the like and for years she believed I rang ahead for good weather. Oh to be still thought so powerful. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xVUNN6Yfx8i-PX9Dc1vCvYIShIE_1ZHCXyzdumu4yCCMLddHreiFwU6xnKK6WBbFptLY7pLeXwsFawd4Ae2j_V2dh4bCywo1DobHPuQu3Zdwh46HvjlY7S6-2rz5mQx2jTEgaeIzvDJc/s640/blogger-image-58329331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xVUNN6Yfx8i-PX9Dc1vCvYIShIE_1ZHCXyzdumu4yCCMLddHreiFwU6xnKK6WBbFptLY7pLeXwsFawd4Ae2j_V2dh4bCywo1DobHPuQu3Zdwh46HvjlY7S6-2rz5mQx2jTEgaeIzvDJc/s640/blogger-image-58329331.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anyway, last Monday, I did not ring for good weather but we still did the head thing and it did not rain for a long time. It did not rain, while we patiently waited with nearly 40 000 other women for the run to start and it did not rain when we finally got going or when we finally decided that that warm up walk was now warm enough and actually started to run. There was music, different bands, lots of lovely spectators and lots of good fun and gossip to be had and there were countless stories to be guessed at and lots of effort and stamina and determination to be admired. There were thousands of clappy plastic hands that made wonderful noise and produced a lovely echo under bridges. We ran more than half of the 10km, I am a lot fitter than I was running it the last time and we came in under the 70 min required for qualification for the next level of starting. The pressure is on as we will start with the joggers – not the walkers - next year and I have an idea that every single one of those 10km will have to be run next year to qualify for that amazing dinner in Carluccio’s – really the real reason for that trip to Dublin. Anyhow, it was a great day and the story will continue as I still run to the tree and back and still struggle with my inherent lazyness that thinks walking is perfectly fine really. I also realize that that tree is not quite far enough away but that is all for another day. For today, I have the medal and the pictures and the knowledge that we can still sway the weather. It only started to rain when we slowed up a bit and got us on the last kilometer. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNmtYS2QVu9_slevMxFIXBQnw_pa8ru9hkl5-DcuJLPkeF1ztqV-wrb8FdWIHxVcO39_X-uzIuW_uj2Pr2plNinnTIzi6smAqtsCUa2ktyk4JrCmVVe1dwcJy4G8LaAlXxX9Ni7c7kd8vz/s640/blogger-image--654132570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNmtYS2QVu9_slevMxFIXBQnw_pa8ru9hkl5-DcuJLPkeF1ztqV-wrb8FdWIHxVcO39_X-uzIuW_uj2Pr2plNinnTIzi6smAqtsCUa2ktyk4JrCmVVe1dwcJy4G8LaAlXxX9Ni7c7kd8vz/s640/blogger-image--654132570.jpg"></a></div>For today, we’re back to work, back to market trading and back to wondering why people vote as they vote or sell their souls to stay in power.<p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-68611797310153340612017-06-01T08:59:00.001-07:002017-06-01T09:14:03.275-07:00The dawn is a good time for baking and bird watching. Not so much for
running.<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">One week to go to the mini marathon in Dublin, I ran 3km this morning and found a new app with a 7 min workout which talks to me, issues rewards, promises new excersises “for free” if I earn two weeks in a row awards - and which pretends 10 seconds constitutes a break. I reckon if I run half the 10km <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">next Monday</a>, I’ll be doing fine and am really looking forward to the day out. Doing something with 10,000 other women can only be fun. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><span lang="GA"></span></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhGZijHcYBTJ0sHLNdADG-z-AaNcNBLMtRY9mn1YZjdIaoJg4I-9GXgD5uUmnsHiCJ3ylsENQ0GrOZltlz9_2xjx_WvIh1r8JQ9CclEKSrzij3hJ1Y_A0U222rEykvQZDi6H72ReXOfyX/s640/blogger-image-786060372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhGZijHcYBTJ0sHLNdADG-z-AaNcNBLMtRY9mn1YZjdIaoJg4I-9GXgD5uUmnsHiCJ3ylsENQ0GrOZltlz9_2xjx_WvIh1r8JQ9CclEKSrzij3hJ1Y_A0U222rEykvQZDi6H72ReXOfyX/s640/blogger-image-786060372.jpg"></a></i></div><i>After the bread round</i><span lang="GA"> this week, I not only run and cycle and prevaricate with lots of housework but I also sit down and deal with the paperwork, the dreaded VAT returns, the VAT verification check and the even more dreaded other tax papers. I try and keep the papers filed, desperately try and find the purse which the bread rounder last Saturday misplaced and which held all last weeks receipts. But after all that, I also try and keep the bigger picture going. Like any other business, we need to keep going, keep growing and increase that profit margin which keeps the business alive and makes my life less scary.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We do not only bake bread but we also have to keep selling it, keep our customers happy, stand out from the crowd and be noticed. To that effect we do many odd things, like selling bread to the Duchess of Cornwall which was interesting but boring and among others also an annual dawn chorus which is anything but. If you missed it, remember it for next year. Every May, we schedule to early Sundays in a row and invite our customers for a dawn chorus walk in a Kilfane woodland. <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">Between 5 and 7am</a> ( in the morning, yes, but it is bright – I promise) you get to walk, listen to the birds while the husband tries to explain which bird is saying what. <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">At 7am</a>, everyone adjournes back to the bakehouse and we have breakfast at a long table, slightly squashed but cosy and very tasty. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvOKNxaV6oF_ZquSHM6TNoEv-u_KZObEQ0Jo4PsxpJrGzQAiRNkVVxxPvUov3-5zukvbQ-XvsKr3QA_dkN8ElJtJbNlxQ6bO3o5t5FR8L5SdT6X_rj9Ug0za2o_pGSjRVNXjx28cHADr8/s640/blogger-image-1160110013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvOKNxaV6oF_ZquSHM6TNoEv-u_KZObEQ0Jo4PsxpJrGzQAiRNkVVxxPvUov3-5zukvbQ-XvsKr3QA_dkN8ElJtJbNlxQ6bO3o5t5FR8L5SdT6X_rj9Ug0za2o_pGSjRVNXjx28cHADr8/s640/blogger-image-1160110013.jpg"></a></div>There is something about early mornings, especially in the summer when the sun shines before we are finished work. Every year at the dawn chorus, or at the darkness into Light or pretty much anywhere you go where people meet early and well before their normal day starts, you hear people promising to use the days better, to not miss “this best part of the day” so often. As with most good resolutions, we are weak on follow through but the idea remains that our energies are high in the morning – even if the rest of my family disputes this fact strenuously. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><span lang="GA">After the bread round</span></i><span lang="GA"> is planning and scheming. With only 38 days left till we close for our three week summer break, the energy is already coming through. We cracked our piggy bank of extra coins from the market money box yesterday and went to Bassett’s in Thomastown for a lunch staff meeting. They have recently opened and have a wonderful place with an excellent lunch menu ( shall have to go back and check on the dinner menu soon) and ideas were plentyfull. The bake house with a difference we will stay as we develop and change – or at least talk about it. We are actively looking for more markets – and that is not in Australia, John. So if you know one, let me know. Actually you could do me a favour and follow this blog and send it to your friends. I promise to be reasonably interesting and sometimes entertaining. Talk to you after the run.......... walk maybe. </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLM-Sf6SQE4_HFUMCY9oBnwWztv35rWskgJXZRxyGROW-lEM8vukhttL6Eetd2vAcmtODL8Kpq-_QsiezJAvBYiJIKmTGBGuuVeDpVw6O0kRofjmUBpEJFM0nrKQz09hkCwMRk0-moqc6u/s640/blogger-image-1153706226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLM-Sf6SQE4_HFUMCY9oBnwWztv35rWskgJXZRxyGROW-lEM8vukhttL6Eetd2vAcmtODL8Kpq-_QsiezJAvBYiJIKmTGBGuuVeDpVw6O0kRofjmUBpEJFM0nrKQz09hkCwMRk0-moqc6u/s640/blogger-image-1153706226.jpg"></a></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-31265229901000577732017-05-24T03:57:00.001-07:002017-05-24T03:57:16.689-07:00Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday – and all is well.<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoSMMBaQISpt8WOMUDOJiimbQ3eY7oGQVDT3qdTpeRHmbe_2AgN5tAhvGOKnjjRPGY3uFzU_exwgwkB34Y_H5nLtn_tVmqHMxgBvnH9S03bc0B2wf3Rp3rD6tJQRTEJAq2KgzTBw_R-E9/s640/blogger-image-1296561931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoSMMBaQISpt8WOMUDOJiimbQ3eY7oGQVDT3qdTpeRHmbe_2AgN5tAhvGOKnjjRPGY3uFzU_exwgwkB34Y_H5nLtn_tVmqHMxgBvnH9S03bc0B2wf3Rp3rD6tJQRTEJAq2KgzTBw_R-E9/s640/blogger-image-1296561931.jpg"></a></div> I do love the wisdom of fridge magnets..... as I am sitting on the patio listening, to the bird song while not understanding a word of it and admiring the first roses which are budding in spite of being woefully neglected and am trying to focus on the laptop and the plan for the day. The weekly invoices are done, my job on a <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">Wednesday morning</a> while the bread is being baked by others and I relish my lie in <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">till 6am</a>. Summer is such an amazing time when we spent whatever time we can outside, when we plan the summer holidays and looking at the garden, planning that half an hour – surely that has to be there in the day – to pull some weeds, buy a new pot for the camelia and rescue the strawberries from the ever encroaching grass , brambles and sticky, windy stuff that I don’t know the name off. Summary of progress: no dawn chorus because I was sick, no running because I was sick and first circuit again yesterday with a first run being contemplated as I write. If progress is not giving up, progress it is. By any other definition, I am not so sure.<br><br>Today, everything is coloured by thoughts of the people who wake up today to the first day without their daughter or son, the first day of their life forever changed as they try and deal with whatever injuries they got, the first day of dealing with the fact that your son did all this. Somehow because it happens in Manchester, in a place we nearly adopt as our own, it all comes closer to home. Somehow, because it involves children, it hurts more. None of this should be so. People die violently every day in some conflict in the world and lives are changed horribly every day. But even in this age of total information and easy communication, distance still matters and some things we feel much more intense than others as we settle into this new age of terrorist attacks which are aimed at us, at our lifestyle, our inherent comfort, our entertainment and security. The aim is to spread fear and panic but it will not work. It won’t work because somewhere in all of us, still lives the stubborn hero who won’t be defeated. Somewhere in our so soft culture of an easy life, still lives the instict that says we won’t be beaten. As other generations before us, who rose to wars with death and destruction, to food shortages and hunger, so will we rise to the new war which this time is targeted at us directly. We are the targets and the combatants and we do not know how to fight back because our attackers are invisible. How do we get ready for this, how do we deal with this? Do we train up on first aid and martial art so we are able to help and kick ass should we be close enough. Do we light our candles today and stand together in strength and compassion? Maybe we’ll do both but can we please refrain from hatred and the senseless persecution of peoples and religions.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWOr-OUjrELbnmaMGgy4ZUgomB_Y5mqGKDzY0tUqmBqMQoO_PU3mPtPO6zL9pXtB7XAORa129384boriEuNY9o6vlNBgrb_1Um5GRGEelYqepaOztTQVBLXpVZgO3BNAhMwub0p5dbQnk/s640/blogger-image--1907288511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBWOr-OUjrELbnmaMGgy4ZUgomB_Y5mqGKDzY0tUqmBqMQoO_PU3mPtPO6zL9pXtB7XAORa129384boriEuNY9o6vlNBgrb_1Um5GRGEelYqepaOztTQVBLXpVZgO3BNAhMwub0p5dbQnk/s640/blogger-image--1907288511.jpg"></a></div><br>I keep coming back to the writers of the blasket islands who quoted a saying of their time which loosely translated goes “We only have our time and when that is done it does not matter whether we row the wild waters in our boats or hide in an anthill”. They lived a very tough life in the firm belief that every life had its time and that time only. I say a special prayer today for those who torture themselves with “had I not bought that ticket” and “had I not put on this gig” – for all those who think that their actions – had they only be different - could have averted this terrible evening. There is no “if only” in life.<br><br>So I reckon, when the pathetic circuit training stops hurting and when I can hold a plank for longer than 10 seconds, I will move onto some kind of martial art and I will practise my first aid and I can’ t think of anything else that could be useful. So I light my candles, I pray and I hope that all people affected by terror will find hope and strength and support in others and I hope that we will all rise to the challenge and never give in to fear. Somehow, this week, the normal struggles and pressures of running a business and a family have become trivial and gratitude has again been returned to its rightful place. For today, for now, all is well in this life and that is enough.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhEtXn8v7r-rvlKgS865hiBgyHNEKmPJdLFOZG4eOnN-tTIMQXl0MRHTSU_p2npXnR7b-yg9u45dKSwnfdg8_ZbZWQ_09iNmizXZDjDjLgM2WI71wCfMfeJ8nQUSit0DPkDiG8GEwQz5X/s640/blogger-image-411055818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhEtXn8v7r-rvlKgS865hiBgyHNEKmPJdLFOZG4eOnN-tTIMQXl0MRHTSU_p2npXnR7b-yg9u45dKSwnfdg8_ZbZWQ_09iNmizXZDjDjLgM2WI71wCfMfeJ8nQUSit0DPkDiG8GEwQz5X/s640/blogger-image-411055818.jpg"></a></div></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-10854060871039943552017-05-17T04:01:00.001-07:002017-05-17T04:08:23.134-07:00The royal visit and the dawn chorus<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>The sun is shining, the birds are singing and another week passed – as it invariably does. Three blogs from now, <i>after the bread round</i> will be reporting from the Mini marathon. I’m still running but the kids, all back for the summer, have now decided that we need to do circuit training in the evenings and my leisurely training as been upted with “weighted squads”, stepping, skipping, push ups and the hated plank. If you don’t know what that is, don’t go and find out, just leave it!! Apparently it is a good sign that all muscles are sore and apparently I will be fit and slim by the end of the summer. I believe it when I see it and point blank refuse to try “pull ups from hanging” and readily complain that I am way too old for this lark while secretly being thrilled with having found this escape route before middle age came and claimed another lazy one for early retirement of all muscles. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQqSm00eb3hx-KlkJ9bJgi-AlpuSOcWhSx-S1F5qVxG_iQLdnqMz1CG3pAZWAJSTB9_dTGpVodFest7UxlkPEpxsWFnafWvMkG6Eqld1a5oy_UxDPnCz4Mn3HWrRY74hpoMpQWuWjujA_/s640/blogger-image-863233640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQqSm00eb3hx-KlkJ9bJgi-AlpuSOcWhSx-S1F5qVxG_iQLdnqMz1CG3pAZWAJSTB9_dTGpVodFest7UxlkPEpxsWFnafWvMkG6Eqld1a5oy_UxDPnCz4Mn3HWrRY74hpoMpQWuWjujA_/s640/blogger-image-863233640.jpg"></a></div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Anyway, last Thursday was the royal visit in Kilkenny. It was a good day, a sunny day and Kilkenny did look amazing and photographed really well. The Castle was looking its best and hosted, what to all accounts and purposes seemed like a royal garden party from way back when – with ball games, good food and good fun. The market was set up on the parade – inside the barriers which were set up along the road and half way down the parade. Security is of course paramount and in this case probably one big headache so we didn’ t mind coming in early, we didn’t mind the sniffer dog in the stall, we didn’t mind having to come back in through airport security – and we didn’ t mind the long wait either. What I did mind was that whoever organised this didn’t realise that our customers belong to the market. They are people who come every week, some of them coming out especially when the weather is terribly because they know we need them most on those days. We know each other and we work with each other but for this occassion not one of them was considered part of the market. Instead, 20 min before the royal visitors were due, the market was flooded with a very well dressed group of strangers – pretending to be customers. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Then came the helicopters and the girls around us got excited. Some choppers put down – I presume in the park – and soon the cavalcade of cars appeared at the market – to the girls leaning over the barricades to find out “ What is she wearing? Can you see them? ” Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall wondered over the market, bought things, chatted and genereally did what they came to do – provide a photo op for as many people as they could. Camilla very patiently stood at our stall and chatted until the photographers told her they were happy. I don’t really like the world of photo op, reality tv and pretend but it was very nice that she made the effort and I fully realise that a visit like this is nothing but extremely hard work for her as she must know that for every minute of the day, someone has put a lot of effort into whatever they do. With the best will of the world, she – or Prince Charles cannot possible do justice to everyone but they did try so hard and that is all they can do. Once the market visit was over and the party in the Castle had started, the garda in charge somehow couldn’t find the courage to let our customers into the market and – for us anyway – the day soured a bit as €400 worth of bread sat on the table. We started to sell across the railings, walking along with our sample tray and bringing baskets down to the barrier. When the customers finally made their way in, it was too late for many, lunch was over and a loss loomed for many traders. Such an unnecessary downer after a day where everyone made a big effort. Just a suggestion for future events. We don’t only have the castle and the pretty roads, we also have very reliable, honest and well mannered citizens, real customers who can be relied upon to take part in these events without causing danger or embaressment to anyone. Sometimes, keeping things a bit more real and honest can be a good thing in these days of pretend. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Anyhow, we have the photograph, we have the experience, we sold the bread and we recovered the sleep and all is well as we look forward to a “normal market” tomorrow. Oh – and she was wearing a very nice green coat and yes, she paid and yes it was with Euros. I am not sure why, but those are the two most asked questions....<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0v7YKJTd-pfRF8FvhgPdXYHCLLxPFrRz_lmp22erpyV0WqH7wVekMNUDNdoFJaApSr7UEemTV-AekZ4fqbtIaNyzaiVlFvK3oNGeM-KV2-nAazEJIf2WKplo-KTRR4xX_Si3wfOgsmpi/s640/blogger-image-472912971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0v7YKJTd-pfRF8FvhgPdXYHCLLxPFrRz_lmp22erpyV0WqH7wVekMNUDNdoFJaApSr7UEemTV-AekZ4fqbtIaNyzaiVlFvK3oNGeM-KV2-nAazEJIf2WKplo-KTRR4xX_Si3wfOgsmpi/s640/blogger-image-472912971.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Oh, and if you want to sample an early <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">morning this Sunday</a> – or next – come and join us for our annual dawn chorus <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">at 5am</a>. A bird walk in the woodland of Kilfane – followed by breakfast in the bakehouse. A free event, we take donations for the Carlow/Kilkenny homecare team. Please book in though, because we can only take 12 each morning.There’s nothing like an early morning spend outdoors, followed by a good breakfast. See you there. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNu7Rwkh8myBqzJghBcT0PJmP4nBtay-DBpo5mzwmEiNY9EPmGyaITEOwi5bE4eCP6ZeORgYqN1iYBUEAduOSo7hdJDWBzrMIHKTKUfqNnLYwbg7hGRirTufLeMxztn7JA-MrkGDN1uqM/s640/blogger-image--1073028774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNu7Rwkh8myBqzJghBcT0PJmP4nBtay-DBpo5mzwmEiNY9EPmGyaITEOwi5bE4eCP6ZeORgYqN1iYBUEAduOSo7hdJDWBzrMIHKTKUfqNnLYwbg7hGRirTufLeMxztn7JA-MrkGDN1uqM/s640/blogger-image--1073028774.jpg"></a></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-12930858751063914662017-05-10T03:56:00.001-07:002017-05-10T04:03:39.808-07:00Royal visit at the market tomorrow<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i><span lang="GA">IAfter the bread round</span></i><span lang="GA">, I got an email yesterday from the gardai to say that all traders on Thursday’s farmers market had to be at the parade <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://2" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="2" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">at 6.30 am</a>. Really? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNGsCN9q0xbN-10lKJUn2ofDG-sozZVB6PifG5b9VkmSTzgk9P6hfsaPeHVx9GxvXHxoATJgalUDukUjjxyS04NeqHqM-w7ct7ton66YwP0LImmBC-doSba7APNbe7gEJE-AUBwxKmAYM/s640/blogger-image--733700422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNGsCN9q0xbN-10lKJUn2ofDG-sozZVB6PifG5b9VkmSTzgk9P6hfsaPeHVx9GxvXHxoATJgalUDukUjjxyS04NeqHqM-w7ct7ton66YwP0LImmBC-doSba7APNbe7gEJE-AUBwxKmAYM/s640/blogger-image--733700422.jpg"></a></div>Tomorrow Prince Charles and his wife Camilla will be a the Farmers market in Kilkenny. Apparently they are goingto walk over the market as they move from the Castle to Cartoon Saloon. We will be set up by <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">7.30am</a> and the market will open to the public by 12 noon. Until then you have to be cleared for security to come and shop or be in the official party. I do hope all those setter uppers and security people will be really hungry!!!! There will be no access to the market to the public <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://5" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="5" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">until 12pm</a> so we are torn between curiosity and delight to be involved and the need to actually sell our bread tomorrow. Needless to say, the safelty of the Prince of Wales and his wife are the biggest concern. Another concern is that apparently there will be thousands of people hoping to catch a glimpse of them and much as we like customers to be able to get to our stall, maybe with thousands of people there, we’ll be grateful of the barricades yet. Anyway what fun to be part of it all and facinating to see a VIP visit close up. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We will try and be prepared as well as possible, with warm clothing, thermos flasks and a table and chairs – to get as much paper work done as possible and not waste an entire morning. We have tried to plan ahead and been terrible flexible as the garda directions changed by the day. Seeing that we bake all our product fresh, we will not have an awful lot of bread with us for <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://7" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="7" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">7.30am</a>. We <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://8" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="8" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">start at 1.30am</a> in the morning anyway so there was no leeway to start earlier but a handtruck has been bought </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXwXP8STwP-H-_qvsWqLsxlU60fvbvQg7GVp2wJmahT-JfyabjhMJZL1Tmb4hNvGTfBtcYIM28pjbR_rhch9koxRc3Hz9ZctPNX8CXDyUHfnHLyBRyUQlwgO9FxljkWsx4pmZMX0DxMSX/s640/blogger-image-2123354022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXwXP8STwP-H-_qvsWqLsxlU60fvbvQg7GVp2wJmahT-JfyabjhMJZL1Tmb4hNvGTfBtcYIM28pjbR_rhch9koxRc3Hz9ZctPNX8CXDyUHfnHLyBRyUQlwgO9FxljkWsx4pmZMX0DxMSX/s640/blogger-image-2123354022.jpg"></a></div>( which - none of my regular readers will be surprised – holds an engine at the moment) and we will try and bring in the remaining bread on foot to the market and to the shops in Kilkenny that normally stock and sell our bread. None of these shops know either whether any customers will come into town or not. One day loss of trading can’t be that big, you’d think – but margins are tight and if we don’t sell on Thursday, we make a loss that week and that we cannot afford. I’m sure many of the other traders and busnesses are the same. The promise of some vague advertising does not cut it for us. We haven’t had a budged for advertising in a long, long time. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Anyhow, hold the grumbles, maybe all those royal watchers will go home with lots of street food, fresh fish, organic meet, bread, sauces and olives and organic vegetables. They might cease the day and buy pottery and baskets and a boot full of garden plants. Maybe Kilkenny will be flooded with happy day trippers all day. We’ll find out tomorrow. Until then, a very sincere welcome to Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall to Ireland and to Kilkenny. Their visit is another big step in the ever improving realtions between our two countries and the particular history we share. I welcome these improvements and the peace we have started to take for granted and I welcome the Prince of Wales also as one of the foremost conservationists, environmentalist and supporter of organic farming in Europe. His famous garden and farm in Highgrove I would love to visit, I would love to chat to him about his ideas for food production and does he grow spelt? Who mills and bakes it for him and does he support the Real Bread movement in England. None of this is likely to happen during a “walk through” but I hope their visit goes well and achieves the many things, thousands of people are hoping that it will. I hope everyone keeps their good humour and I very much hope all our faithfull customers will find their way to the market <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://11" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="11" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">tomorrow afternoon</a>. Watch this space and I’ll tell you how it went next week. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnweVNvjj8Fr8111oSLHUGkm5bfmWNDCu8hrYn1gsL9NGA93TfUkIrwfKaFJeMWY_yJkcMq7MP4u5yoM2-kFISrjIpYEAzB8RBTIpPutbQFL7p2Gl5bOyxPlD8atL80C7PMLeFOpilkW2/s640/blogger-image--227392069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDnweVNvjj8Fr8111oSLHUGkm5bfmWNDCu8hrYn1gsL9NGA93TfUkIrwfKaFJeMWY_yJkcMq7MP4u5yoM2-kFISrjIpYEAzB8RBTIpPutbQFL7p2Gl5bOyxPlD8atL80C7PMLeFOpilkW2/s640/blogger-image--227392069.jpg"></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-40448553236096382012017-05-02T12:12:00.003-07:002017-05-02T13:46:15.240-07:00Start of Summer – Bealtaine.<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span lang="GA"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-IQSfAEmcUqvm7YNg9kfJFPwPprdGs4JIHpS6A7q8z9i7jPVIoWHeKqt02oFLYwPNZbGyMVsMqbQwEA_qYIA_6bW2d5aRwZix-J143UT4P3n6Bj8NCp4dAZEEq-8mTTOBguc-SfXsZbqc/s640/blogger-image--1947439282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-IQSfAEmcUqvm7YNg9kfJFPwPprdGs4JIHpS6A7q8z9i7jPVIoWHeKqt02oFLYwPNZbGyMVsMqbQwEA_qYIA_6bW2d5aRwZix-J143UT4P3n6Bj8NCp4dAZEEq-8mTTOBguc-SfXsZbqc/s640/blogger-image--1947439282.jpg"></a></div>This week was the first of May, Baltaine and the start of summer. It is a Cross Quarter Day, half way between the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice. In Irish mythology, the beginning of the summer season started with the Fire Festival at Bealtaine. Great bonfires mark a time of purification and transition, heralding in the season in the hope of a good harvest later in the year, accompanied with rituals to protect the people from any harm by otherworldly spirits.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A good time of year, a beginning and yet another day to plan and scheme on how to better manage life. <span lang="GA">Running to the tree is going just fine but improving on that in speed and distance is a challenge as the totally unambitious self just plods ot the the tree and back and ticks that box for the day. Have to work on that. The new boy toy also arrived.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKj7i6vWGMG0oNCM2gnSWUd-VpbRwPsE6MkWJgUwdR2zP1uRWuDJXfvac7YpLNiZ4PvRTyRI0UKZ3OEJBRYgi3vzlZkET5qQpCL1OqeKF3z91q2ZvhUhkyMgzC9UasRGEw-dmigH1bCOD/s640/blogger-image-867617157.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKj7i6vWGMG0oNCM2gnSWUd-VpbRwPsE6MkWJgUwdR2zP1uRWuDJXfvac7YpLNiZ4PvRTyRI0UKZ3OEJBRYgi3vzlZkET5qQpCL1OqeKF3z91q2ZvhUhkyMgzC9UasRGEw-dmigH1bCOD/s640/blogger-image-867617157.jpg"></a></div> Bright and yellow and in way too many individual parts, the Honda civic CRX racing car has replaced the mini in the open shed across from the office. Sadly, the owner of same spend yesterday at a rally car fest in Galway and I can feel him plotting how to race this “investment” from the other side of the country. It’s going to be a long summer.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifE0d11_yBGAays0DEF7V19rVJwNI2-iz_paBsqHLfKi3A2f_63JklMkBCBTbpvhwjM1nBKZrCo29gYesdRrkXvonO_2RwPG9njmBNnvDXzYgQfpYW27l5bpO5-wtuqEfYbwG-ulUduKBp/s640/blogger-image--622664002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifE0d11_yBGAays0DEF7V19rVJwNI2-iz_paBsqHLfKi3A2f_63JklMkBCBTbpvhwjM1nBKZrCo29gYesdRrkXvonO_2RwPG9njmBNnvDXzYgQfpYW27l5bpO5-wtuqEfYbwG-ulUduKBp/s640/blogger-image--622664002.jpg"></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">.<i><span lang="GA">After the bread round</span></i><span lang="GA">, at this time of the year, I used to out into the garden, plant the potatoes, grow the seedlings and enjoy working in the polytunnel while the rain was falling on the plastic of the tunnel. I love gardening and have not done it in at least two or three years. These days I don’ t even pretend anymore that I will have the time as I watch the garden grow closer and closer. The polytunnel has a big rip while the only plant still thriving in spite of all my non-effort is a ginormous rhubarb that comes back year after year in spite of total unappreciation of a family that does not eat rhubarb. Every year I hope to restart the garden and every year it doesn’ t really work. Since the business paperwork has grown with the business, <i>after the bread round</i> time has moved to the office - with a few window boxes and potted plants the extent of my growing success. Since all young adults are back for the summer, we are trying again to make time to have a garden and jobs have been divvied up. The lane is done, the grass was cut ( until the lawnmower broke...) and my jobs remain stubbornly undone. The two car fanatics are trying to keep to the deal of balancing all hours worked on the car with hours done in the garden and we’ll watch this space with the optimism of early spring where everything seems possible. Especially when the first day of summer actually and completely unexpectetly turns into the first gloriously sunny day. It is progress if the tax returns are done in May rather than November, it is progress if I can run again and it is progress if the shed was tidied between cars – or is it? </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We’ll light a fire next weekend ( that Christmas tree is still sitting in the hedge) and we’ll celebrate Bealtaine with all our plans and hopes and ambitions. It’s the season of hope for a good harvest, which does not only mean food successfully grown. It also means a good leaving cert for some, a good start to college for others, a summer well spent, a business grown another bit and maybe, just maybe some of that garden to be salvaged.</span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-91294550769169415482017-04-26T02:42:00.001-07:002017-04-26T02:46:00.076-07:00Cars,trees and helmets!!<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBcCbTczKsaI48eXGD6pJkqroFACcNeCUxEmdFhrsYvweEx2aqZG6jaYCpfszOB0oZz-dUHmW_NP-8HtG3InZeuGwCtDhfEMveBFlrdTd8NJVlEMuvOMUhk1T0rNiyizWC-RvGo0VseQ-/s640/blogger-image--1863607380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLBcCbTczKsaI48eXGD6pJkqroFACcNeCUxEmdFhrsYvweEx2aqZG6jaYCpfszOB0oZz-dUHmW_NP-8HtG3InZeuGwCtDhfEMveBFlrdTd8NJVlEMuvOMUhk1T0rNiyizWC-RvGo0VseQ-/s640/blogger-image--1863607380.jpg"></a></div>After the bread round, I came out of the bake house, having done the evening prep to three boys in an open shed surrounded by cars and car parts, one shouting across the yard to the other” you can’t race, you can’t afford fire proof underwear”. Really?<br><br>It’s good to know he can’t race - because he’s only 14 - but weird all the same that all three are car fanatics, driving up and down our lane for years until such time as they can get their liscence to drive the road. The oldest, finally heading for the dream and studying motorsports technology in Oxford, is just planning to buy a rally cross car. Apparently this is the best way to get the finance for Oxford together and give him the much needed experience to built an engine. Other people, I say, just work and put the money in the credid union. Not so, in this house as I keep my fingers crossed that some other fanatic will actually buy that car off him when he is finished. For the purpose of building this rally cross car, the ancient mini ( that the other chap bought 2 years ago) is pulled out of the shed and put under tarpaulin outside. That too, by the way, was “an investment” and was going to be sold off at a profit when done up and driving. I has been done up to a point but is still far from driving and everyone is ignoring the fact that you cannot insure a classic until you’re 25 ( a long way off for all of them!)<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2zSdAzQ3B2EHtolfGseiNJuAOsA40pl0t8Mk40v-zQTlEmjrqZ7QprDvQCgjzR8JJhEZOkuECn-XAlq1wUl-4U0s92Mk1ZhMYSqV_CQ1RG6CZIAzcWp_3frZrFS8KaMOef1NP-2BobL0/s640/blogger-image--889254296.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2zSdAzQ3B2EHtolfGseiNJuAOsA40pl0t8Mk40v-zQTlEmjrqZ7QprDvQCgjzR8JJhEZOkuECn-XAlq1wUl-4U0s92Mk1ZhMYSqV_CQ1RG6CZIAzcWp_3frZrFS8KaMOef1NP-2BobL0/s640/blogger-image--889254296.jpg"></a></div><br><br>In the process of convincing me that I wanted another dead car in the yard, the promise was that “we’ll dismantle the helmet and the mini can have that space”. A helmet in any other house, is a thing you put on your head – preferably when you are cycling. In this house it is a soap box – in the shape of a helmet – that was built last summer and pushed down St Patrick’s hill in Cork when the boys, together with some equally mad friends joined the Red Bull Soap box race. The Headcases was their team name and headcases they are. Needless to say, the helmet remains undismantled as the mini joined it in the yard and the only open roofed space that we have – which, while the kids were small and reasonable, housed my outdoor washing line – is now being got ready for the new member of this car family – with the 14 year old saving for fire proof underwear……<br><br>While the jury is still out whether being such a push over is good parenting, I head off for my run to the tree. Made it all the way there and back in reasonably fast pace and thinking I might be able to at least run half those 10km in June. While running, I think and make plans ( I cannot abide loud music on my ears) and dream again of the next plan of having a mobile van on the road, a beautiful old bread van, branded as “Speltbakers on the go” and serving all the villages and countryside long left without a bakery. The sun is shining and the plan is good. The boys always say they can design or refurbish something for me. The Mini-man, who is studying for the leaving, is even talking about joining the business for his gap year but really – a betting woman would put money on that Logo going around on a rally car with some son in fire proof underwear or there was a plan of a “Speltbakers mini pizza”. You figure that one out and watch this space.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhotQMI3ZR09T550SupccPlwLF1BkBc_Pn6vvQSQlBBfzJBkKki3YlMUlkOCQ1L-wy1BfxKk9VYAjO-40i04O1DyPN1J6zbpOC8_oXhlKMa9eOqpGgY6mRdSX0Qqc6gEY8xOw5k_0IHGCev/s640/blogger-image--1753262068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhotQMI3ZR09T550SupccPlwLF1BkBc_Pn6vvQSQlBBfzJBkKki3YlMUlkOCQ1L-wy1BfxKk9VYAjO-40i04O1DyPN1J6zbpOC8_oXhlKMa9eOqpGgY6mRdSX0Qqc6gEY8xOw5k_0IHGCev/s640/blogger-image--1753262068.jpg"></a></div></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-20902097227468358812017-04-18T14:35:00.001-07:002017-04-18T14:38:11.136-07:00City break<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZY_mTO3vf8I-bsEJDcTsAy_dh7TTAMQpe86NtENr-ZAhQhZhCtWShppXCoa0kcneWdFfNLGDIdlpbyeAPLQd5lbv0lb3i0YLQB5Ll50lOyUJktRzEYbAV2i72WgtPRxnpQmy9EkIRLSF/s640/blogger-image-1615108539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZY_mTO3vf8I-bsEJDcTsAy_dh7TTAMQpe86NtENr-ZAhQhZhCtWShppXCoa0kcneWdFfNLGDIdlpbyeAPLQd5lbv0lb3i0YLQB5Ll50lOyUJktRzEYbAV2i72WgtPRxnpQmy9EkIRLSF/s640/blogger-image-1615108539.jpg"></a></div>Sitting in Jack Monday’s coffee house at Thomond bridge in Limerick. After a great weekend in a building site in Limerick and in the Burren in Clare, it’s time for some paperwork – Bank holiday or not. The rest of the family is still asleep in the building site or walking the river so I left cornflakes and orange juice amongst the mattresses and left to be civilized on my own…..<br><br>Just to give you the running update, I “ran” the three bridges in Limerick yesterday and today and even though I still walked large parts, I ran more than half and when I ran I actually moved forward rather than backwards and am profoundly grateful to have done the miserable “first time running in two years” wobbles in the privacy of my own back roads rather than on the ever so sophisticated river walk in Limerick city.<br><br>Much as I love living in the countryside with the amazing fields of rapeseed all around us, I do love the city as well. The building site is right in the city centre, across from John’s castle and is suffering the first wave of gentrification which is lovely to see. After a long day in IKEA thinking kitchen worktops and presses, we arrived <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">on Saturday evening</a> with a trailer full of goodies, unloaded, spread the mattresses and admired the building works in progress. Unpacking the amazing Caesar salad from Glasrai and Goodies in Gowran ( the good traveler comes prepared!!), we sat down for dinner – the good traveler also brought some Costellos from home and planned the weekend. In the city, you don’t even have to figure out when mass is on Easter night, you just leave the house when the bells are ringing. So come quarter to nine, we were literally called out and joined St Munchins parish for Easter night and as luck would have it, joined one of the best Easter night ceremonies I have ever been at. A lovely choir, an honest and meaningful ceremony that adapted the old and infused with new. Admittingly I was probably not fully awake after the old testament readings in the dark but when the Gloria was sung, when the lights sprang on and the bells rang, I jumped to attention and did believe that he truly is risen and that we might still have a chance in this church, which I stubbornly refuse to give up on.<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72qi5-rgJgBjbylG1FZWiVYs_rl-QokpxP6xUJBPyj3bC1H498F4MaSLgzHCDNLqdS5ncYkmtsVKzs0gLQAIzN0H_mEa9UlbA2KmzzpY8sKiDaBfVrDmyEFaDor2CXMqpx-VlIhC98Qvx/s640/blogger-image--1034513874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh72qi5-rgJgBjbylG1FZWiVYs_rl-QokpxP6xUJBPyj3bC1H498F4MaSLgzHCDNLqdS5ncYkmtsVKzs0gLQAIzN0H_mEa9UlbA2KmzzpY8sKiDaBfVrDmyEFaDor2CXMqpx-VlIhC98Qvx/s640/blogger-image--1034513874.jpg"></a></div><br>Easter Sunday saw us in the Burren, which was once home for 5 wonderful years. Once a year at least I have to see Mullaghmore and walk the Cregg road at the foot of the mountain. Once a year we try and get everyone together in this place. It is a place where I come for the big decisions in my life or if I need peace I cannot find anywhere else. If landscape holds magic as the late John O Donohue so often said, it holds it there and seeing the children that used to play there when they actually were children, when I had to help them over the walls and butter their breads for the picnick – seeing them nearly 15 years later still falling into the water, still messing, still pushing each other, still not happy until everyone is wet has a certain bit of magic as well – especially when they turn around to me to say “careful Mama”, as time slowly turns the tables and I sincerely hope I have another 15 years until they have to help me over that wall.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-78948618450102365882017-04-12T02:42:00.001-07:002017-04-12T02:43:16.570-07:00Look up<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrVTJed34yucn4OVGLsX396Yvbqp7bNrhLWTp9Ca_NZxuKiviMYmI2de4MengPKFlDL79eoml-CVSRh3kWm3aSY3bpujA5eXbzZH8GENq0wwU-MvgPVDDPlVntMEggImBMWKF-AVCnWMU/s640/blogger-image--1390844144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrVTJed34yucn4OVGLsX396Yvbqp7bNrhLWTp9Ca_NZxuKiviMYmI2de4MengPKFlDL79eoml-CVSRh3kWm3aSY3bpujA5eXbzZH8GENq0wwU-MvgPVDDPlVntMEggImBMWKF-AVCnWMU/s640/blogger-image--1390844144.jpg"></a></div>Actually stuck with the plan and have been “running” nearly every morning. Barring market days – which are a very credible excuse – I have been out every day. I walk/run to “the tree”, a tree about one mile away which has forever been the minimum measure of any outdoor activity in this family. “I’ve been “to the tree” covers anything involving movement. So “the tree” is the aim as I persevere to try and turn the walk into a run with today possibly the first day where the run element was longer than the walk and ‘meet neighbours on the road and gossip’ element. Anyhow, we’re on track to survive moving for 10km and new runners have added a huge element of bounce that I thought was gone forever.<br><br>Also, the famous van has been bought and has arrived. Actually it has not really been bought, it has been signed for and will be mine in about 5 years time all going well. It is brilliant and thanks for your advice, the five seater van it is and the most useful car I ever had it is also going to be.<br><br>After the bread round took the new van to Limerick on Monday to take some measurements for a kitchen that will require a trip to IKEA over Easter. Driving on the motorway takes on a new dimension in a new car. No more listening to the engine making funny noises or the left front wheel rattling or wondering if the boot unlocked itself again. Basically, you have more time and leisure to look around and people/car watch which is a great hobby of mine. I love to watch and guess who does what why and who with and I would love to be able to write stories. I am a great fan of the late and amazing Maeve Binchy who did just that with amazing skill. So anyway, traveling on the M7, there was car stopped on the hard shoulder going the other way and a couple in a big white wedding dress and tux where there with their photographer posing for wedding pics. Now, apart from it being illegal, why would you do that? Boring stretch of road, no county boundary – or was it the boundary between Offally and Limerick? Was he the AA man and they met here when she had a break down? Did they crash their cars here and are now married? Did she have a break down and he stopped to help or did he have a flat and she stopped to change the tyre - and two years later to the day , they come back on their wedding day? See, the story is there to be written, I am just not good enough to pick it up. So frustrating and so annoying that I don’t actually have the nerve to stop and ask. Maeve Binchy apparently once fell off her chair in a coffee shop because she was leaning into the conversation at the next table. I have not quite done that yet but I would love to know the background to these many snapshots of other people’s lives that we see around us every day. “Look up” is the name of a video widely shown on Facebook to illustrate what you miss when you permanently look into your own playdevice. It’s a great video, look it up and look around you and please , if anyone should know that couple on the M7 heading Dublin way last Monday, why the picture on the hard shoulder????? Maybe her parents house stood there before the motorway got built….. maybe they met there 10 years ago demonstrating against the new motorway…… please does anyone know??</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-79643055320164451662017-04-04T07:39:00.001-07:002017-04-04T07:42:58.383-07:00Running again<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMK0n8m0e_MTlA54On4pfrUVxU-1eCqdY_WUz5vxFIBvxMCDwHV4BsaQTdquoYz8PERs3rFYdjyUkLjDfigbFgFB5kTFcb46-Nz24wAmLO5Tbuy2d_O4o9IFdcR7KDT7IH7b5eypU8ecfe/s640/blogger-image--869581033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMK0n8m0e_MTlA54On4pfrUVxU-1eCqdY_WUz5vxFIBvxMCDwHV4BsaQTdquoYz8PERs3rFYdjyUkLjDfigbFgFB5kTFcb46-Nz24wAmLO5Tbuy2d_O4o9IFdcR7KDT7IH7b5eypU8ecfe/s640/blogger-image--869581033.jpg"></a></div>Last weekend, I realised that the 1st April is frigteningly close to the <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">1st June</a>, which in turn is terribly close to the bank holiday weekend for which I have so thoughtlessly registered for the women’s mini marathon. So, training commenced on Monday. Stop eating rubbish, drink lots of water and run, walk, cycle and try and rediscover the reasonably fit person that used to live in this body.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">These days “busy” is the permanent excuse and busy means that breaks consist of cups of tea and bread and cheese on the sofa. Deadly combination. The only excercise happens every Thursday when I park the market car on 5A in the multistory car park and I don’t take the lift. Pathetic. So yesterday morning, we don’t bake on a Monday, I bullied the leaving cert son and we set off at 6 in the morning. We walked to the top of the lane and he ran off while I walked another bit and then started running – only to discover that any bounce has left without giving notice. I struggle on and bounce comes back but breath leaves and we are back to walking. I meet the son on his way back and move on – enjoying the rising sun on the yellow rapeseed and the early morning and my feeling of compelte and utter self righteousness. He runs the distance in 14 minutes, I cover it in 26 and we plan and scheme. As life is not fair, he will get fit very quickly and I will take tremendously much longer but fit I will get because everybody can get fit anytime. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Always much too lazy to be competitve in sports, I was always a good swimmer and the otherwise the one who set up the equipment and provided safety for the others. I was a pretty good netball goalie and tall enough to enjoy basketball ( in Ireland only. In germany, I don’t rate as tall at all) So, I lived quite happily at the edge of the sporting world with some kind of natural fitness that was always good enough. Now sadly, this natural fitness is gone in a sulk and demands a lot more work than it was ever allocated before. Challenge accepted – as I went out “running” again today. Two days in a trot – I must be winning.......<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Anyhow, after the breadround will now stop gloating about this amazing success of the new training regime and tackle the dreaded tax returns. Normally the shoebox is emptied in and around Sepember with the grand plan to be finished by the October deadline. This year, I am starting in April and will have it all done before the summer. What a novel idea. Imagine, doing the mini marathon with the tax returns done. Even if that makes me a very sad person, it would be such a good feeling. #mustgetalife. Imagine doing the mini marathon in the sun with the tax returns done......</span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-51691742028065393882017-03-28T03:43:00.001-07:002017-03-28T03:50:26.119-07:00Family run<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Thanks for all the advice and suggestions and yes, the 5 seater it is going to be and –for the first time ever – a new one. I have decided, that doesn’t mean, I’m growing up. Growing up is still optional!!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_ZeW6OQw4xxmQxa-zALn7c6FBojw_folHRyrMtxAclu5ArNZ_xviNPj06jTXdOc0M1TJAQRxvUr1l7dZ62erei52DHF75lgkjx03nRRHwz_ubFAvZUHAFQguqegiSYcPXOYRFA6ZeW5g/s640/blogger-image-521460613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ_ZeW6OQw4xxmQxa-zALn7c6FBojw_folHRyrMtxAclu5ArNZ_xviNPj06jTXdOc0M1TJAQRxvUr1l7dZ62erei52DHF75lgkjx03nRRHwz_ubFAvZUHAFQguqegiSYcPXOYRFA6ZeW5g/s640/blogger-image-521460613.jpg"></a></div>The magnificent weather was going to be the topic this week, the wonderful fact that I fixed the washing line and market cloth, tea towels and aprons were drying in the sun. However, as we speak they are being washed on the line by a fairly serious shower and sunhine is no longer on the agenda and not worth talking about. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">After the bread round last Saturday, I was very tired, delighted with the week and progress but tired and in the throws of a head cold. That is to say, I finished the market in Carlow in blissful sunshine, sold out to lovely customers and came home to feeling sorry for myself and dumping on the long suffering family. “Family- run” is just one of many terms associated with small businesses, terms that have been discovered by the advertising industry and have – in many respects – become meaningless as everyone wants a bite of the “look at me – I’m small and beautiful” cherry. I will rant on about <i>artisan</i> and <i>home made</i> some other time but today, I’d like to thank the family, not only mine but the family of every truely family run business who put up with so much, carry so much and tolerate even more. It is not always the work – even though that can seem never ending - it is more the being dumped on by the hysterically overworked person whose idea the whole thing was and who as soon as you come into sight, wants to know why you are not doing anything. Kicking a ball around becomes an offence as easily as doing your homework, studying for the exams or – God forbid – sitting down to watch a match. A tiny television tucked into a corner, is not small enough and staying out in study until 9 in the evening is not long enough. 4 years into the grand bakehouse adventure, life is slowly settling down from the really hystericall to the the manageble. In a good week, all going to plan, life is good and the light at the end of the tunnel is startling and bright. But it takes little to tip the balance back into manic and relaxing around me is never a good idea. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So thanks to the 14 year old, who routinely takes over in the evening when the clean up becomes too much and gives up his Saturday lie in for an early shift from 4 to 7. Thanks to the leaving cert student who is always there to fill in, always there as back up and always the calming influence when it should be him that’s getting nervous. Thanks to the student who comes back after a long week in the water and on her feet as a waitress to turn around and write invoices and do the bread round. Thanks to the other student who’ll deliver bread when he can and does the chopping and cleaning, who takes on the pay roll, the web site and the general computer illiteracy that abounds in this business and thanks to the long suffering husband who never questioned the wisdom of starting a business in a recession, who calmy accepts that most things are his fault and who still asks “ what can I do? - when he so rarely get a polite answer. Thanks to them all when they understand that when I rant and give out, I am really quietly and politely asking for help. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So – once a year – I say thanks and will try and make amends. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="GA" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now, that that’s done, there are still the garden furniture that need to be painted, the grass cut, the dishes to be done and the advent wreath from before christmas is still sitting on a chair out back. Why is there clothes on the floor and wellie boots in the kitchen? are the dogs fed and the chickens mucked out? Surely there isn’t more sport on tv tonight and are you really going for another cycle......... seriously? </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5KCEqp9FHYqWYuuhHpZ64GsBj0WzCFxZi7mt4mAaoMRodJ4S54JC9hBmddI6N1IQSYWXAgI9hQPKmqqGNEbjjRIR8PXYvp-CCbZDvFrozHuLZEARYhE_BZAxDg2wj2d_ZmIBBeTNwYhM/s640/blogger-image--118685428.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy5KCEqp9FHYqWYuuhHpZ64GsBj0WzCFxZi7mt4mAaoMRodJ4S54JC9hBmddI6N1IQSYWXAgI9hQPKmqqGNEbjjRIR8PXYvp-CCbZDvFrozHuLZEARYhE_BZAxDg2wj2d_ZmIBBeTNwYhM/s640/blogger-image--118685428.jpg"></a></div><p></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-10794520981366163362017-03-20T07:12:00.001-07:002017-03-20T07:16:33.621-07:00Van or no van, new or old van, 3 or 5 seats???? I need advice!!!!<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuob9uPDqQA-5doMtuUAEe0b-omQyEKYVNndp1s7XuuFHkp0a_cJ8kirDB_taMjGAwPI2Zla2MPF4MZZ94MBl3SZmVNwUcQZX55QJj_JFVlW6HQun_kSd3fObboaavOW9VirlNbxQEgMaa/s640/blogger-image-157697125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuob9uPDqQA-5doMtuUAEe0b-omQyEKYVNndp1s7XuuFHkp0a_cJ8kirDB_taMjGAwPI2Zla2MPF4MZZ94MBl3SZmVNwUcQZX55QJj_JFVlW6HQun_kSd3fObboaavOW9VirlNbxQEgMaa/s640/blogger-image-157697125.jpg"></a></div>After the bread round is wasting a lot of time recently. Whether I am running on the road( once) , walking the dogs or washing the floor ( much more often) - I’m thinking. When I’m baking or filling in the spread sheets, I am wondering : Do I need a new van, do I need five seats or three, can the business tackle the repayments and why doesn’t my van go another year or three??<br><br>The old Van is much loved, has done the mileage, owes me nothing and still motors on very well. Insurance is prohibitive however and our mechanic has – very nicely – said he doesn’ t really want to see the van again. “You should be buying not fixing” has been his verdict for sometime now. There are so many things that make sense financially and that are logical and sensible but sadly, I have never decided anything on that level. I decide by gut instinct rather than by any rational thought processes. Normally,I know what I want and then fashion the rational around that. Now, I want a van with five seats. For over 20 years now, I have driven a family car where space was premium, for over 14 of those years, seven seaters were the name of the game and I distinctly recall a birthday party where one orienteering party of 13 was collected in one car load. Now, those parties are gone and some of the children too. Grown up, one has his own car and only the youngest depends on me for transport but still, the instinct remains to have space. Silly, nostalgic instinct or sensible multiuse of space?? Has anyone any ideas that might help? Anyone been there and done that and changed from multi-tasking mother to multi-tasking mother with a business to run?<br><br>For the second Monday running, I have avoided the paperwork day with a run to the garages to talk, look, compare and test drive. I want reclining seats ( bakers need to sleep somewhere) when they are offering touch screen radio. I want a tailgate boot rather than a hinged door ( unloading in the rain or using the Van as a market stall in bad weather) We work our way around it and have found the Van that has it all, except I can’ t decide whether five seats as opposed to three ( or really two and a half) is the way to go. Flexibility or functionality and do I really need a new van?? I struggle to process the fact that buying a new van apparently is not stupid even though I laughed all my adult life at people who did just that, Driving old cars was a way of life that suited me. That has now changed, say the mechanic and the accountant but I am hanging on here and struggling with the brave new world of sensible decisions.<br><br><br><br>So, any thoughts, any advice please? After the bread round tomorrow or the next day, I need to make a decision – and then I’ll start pfaffing about the colour. I like yellow………</span><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Lv2ltSLVbSX5PHhyphenhyphenJ5sqyVMuVXCq4sXUNAdA-Jm3vrv2a0K7G8b14vsfOLi3mpkBHAa6dtHMHmTa4T2n854u9x0Ej9B-Qpy-9F5jAUm1eFjbluSM7BX0w16EQiDt4ACTuzxO304yhqM3/s640/blogger-image-1522121767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Lv2ltSLVbSX5PHhyphenhyphenJ5sqyVMuVXCq4sXUNAdA-Jm3vrv2a0K7G8b14vsfOLi3mpkBHAa6dtHMHmTa4T2n854u9x0Ej9B-Qpy-9F5jAUm1eFjbluSM7BX0w16EQiDt4ACTuzxO304yhqM3/s640/blogger-image-1522121767.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-78184045091470365732017-03-14T23:27:00.001-07:002017-03-14T23:33:36.327-07:00Spring is here<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2pWjdI9KMWVnlDkqTPvCY1H5nTO_ogTwwqSq6LfS68rqmbu97UAjIyqgBsqx1wByzCUNHg-bLZUIqnOeQkkJ40GHG7HKLhuJFquBUJVkRv_kOUydbZ6Txz8BDXZw7kOIqatCspW1Rzza/s640/blogger-image-1639683586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2pWjdI9KMWVnlDkqTPvCY1H5nTO_ogTwwqSq6LfS68rqmbu97UAjIyqgBsqx1wByzCUNHg-bLZUIqnOeQkkJ40GHG7HKLhuJFquBUJVkRv_kOUydbZ6Txz8BDXZw7kOIqatCspW1Rzza/s640/blogger-image-1639683586.jpg"></a></div>Finally the sun is shining, the birds are having a field day –literally and the whole country is cutting the grass and enthusing about the weather. Needless to say, after the bread round is finally going for those walks and getting that excersise and has –- in completely unfounded optimism – registered for the VHI women’s mini marathon.<br><br>Warmer nights mean many things to many people but to us it means that the sourdough is livelier and that I should have taken out the radiator that keeps that part of the bake house warmish. Last Thursday night I didn’t and the sourdoughs thought they might go for a walk. On Fridays, I start at a leisurely <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">2.30am</a>, stoke up the stove for a bit of heat, put on the yeast doughs and divide the sourdoughs into baskets. It is a nice and easy morning after the hectic market day on Thursday with a lovely “only one more day to the weekend” feeling. Philippe, second baker for that day, came in <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://3" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="3" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">at 4.15am</a>, goes into the pantry to hang up his coat and comes out with “there is sourdough everywhere”….. At this stage, even I see the tell tale signs of a sourdough puddle creeping in underneath the pantry door and the day takes a turn. Our five bucket sourdough starter tower is alive and bubbling and I regret to say, I didn’t think to take a video. Too old for that universal reflex action obviously!! The lids were lifting and puffing and bubbling with sourdough starter running down the tower and slowly spreading on the floor. We closed the door and finished the bake – with one eye on the slowly increasing puddle, wondering if anyone ever made a horror movie with sourdough.<br><br>Two hours later with the bread on the road, I tackle the buckets and the puddle and discovered that spilled sourdough is plain nasty to take off the ground and off the wall and off the buckets. It sticks – but I win in the end, with one spotless pantry, a tower of sourdoughs brought back under control and the surplus gone to feed the compost. One cup of tea later, we turn into a proper episode of faulty towers. A bird has got stuck in the sourdough in the compost and needs rescuing and washing and drying – in the kitchen – not the bakehouse, I hasten to add!! The bird gets washed – with difficulty, sourdough still being nasty to take off and objects vigourously. I get pecked and clawed and am quite happy that this bird is small and his beak insignificant. As he dries off in a box on top of the stove, I light my own fire and finish the paperwork for the week. And you thought we only bake.<br><br>Happy to report the sourdoughs are behaving since then and have abandoned all efforts to escape and colonise the bakehouse – and the bird is well again – if probably still very cross. After the bread round spent <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://4" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="4" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">Sunday afternoon</a> at the Barrow towpath for a walk on this first of hopefully many spring days. Sunshine, proper heat in the sun and a glorious river walk – which by the way is perfectly fine and I really hope doesn’t get developed into this proposed tourist project of a walkway. Yesterday, there were many, many walkers enjoying the tow path near St Mullins, the amazing St Mullins Café was overfull, serving wonderful salads and sandwiches, brownies and tarts and any further development of this wonderful resource seems entirely unnecessary and probably damaging. I don’t wash buckets, walls and floors and birds if there is no escaping sourdoughs. Why would you fix and develop a tow path that is perfect as it is? Oh – and if you see a tower of buckets on your travels, give us a shout.</span><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEuO1vn8JrRkeF3dkfrBQ22QtohDeake35pginNyoM7VEAS6OaCJb00a4Sp1ITnxyDyXf9SqS4iMt6JCq_S7ou0e_N_VO6Hfo_s0_JqJYe2pDHh5DCW-g8lD15KHwoWyj8Izaq8KxYGbS/s640/blogger-image--1641676625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGEuO1vn8JrRkeF3dkfrBQ22QtohDeake35pginNyoM7VEAS6OaCJb00a4Sp1ITnxyDyXf9SqS4iMt6JCq_S7ou0e_N_VO6Hfo_s0_JqJYe2pDHh5DCW-g8lD15KHwoWyj8Izaq8KxYGbS/s640/blogger-image--1641676625.jpg"></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-9094665875412610642017-03-07T12:20:00.001-08:002017-03-07T12:23:18.486-08:00Lent and a few thoughts around it.<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiri_CZH8zqnDpVY7jzZo-TF2pOZNPjQQs1x6okfRFtwlXG8GuMeEsbZ7Wgqph0evndyAT5brH4tN8rOwuVfeEi4qGIzwbBMKU1JrZR0-lNeZGanM4plev_juMEolWXjLf9lAyqtOk-gdN-/s640/blogger-image--1928189418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiri_CZH8zqnDpVY7jzZo-TF2pOZNPjQQs1x6okfRFtwlXG8GuMeEsbZ7Wgqph0evndyAT5brH4tN8rOwuVfeEi4qGIzwbBMKU1JrZR0-lNeZGanM4plev_juMEolWXjLf9lAyqtOk-gdN-/s640/blogger-image--1928189418.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Lent comes around every year. With the first sense of spring, with the first daffodils and snowbells, with the increasing light and the birds singing and looking for nesting sites. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“What are you giving up for lent” is a conversation topic. Lent is a bit like January, the good intention tend to not last very long as we amend and change our plans and intentions. At the market, people eye up the tiny little apple pies “ they don’t really count do they?” since they are not chocolate and so small and anyway, they are made with spelt and therefore not really bad for you. And so the “all refined sugar” changes to “only serious junk food” and lent becomes that little bit easier as we progress. As children we used to give up sweets and collect them in glass jars in the kitchen - until Easter, when this sweet stash was augmented by Easter eggs and the most amazing sugar crash negated in one easy day all the good that lent might have done in the sugar balance of any one body. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Fasting used to be an integral part of the practise of Catholicism. We ate fish instead of meat, no food at all before communion and on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday you only ate one meal and very little else while lent itself was a long season of penance. In Ireland, we do penance and guilt better than any one else and have invented small little extra traditions like the barefoot climb of Croagh Patrick or the three day “no food and no sleep” event, commonly known as Lough Dergh. We ridicule many of these traditions today and tend to not take it very seriously. We have recognized that the no meat fasting originated in the catholic bishop’s monopoly in the fish industry and their wish to boost their profits. We laugh off our love of penance and our deal brokering with God as generations of mothers “did Lough Dergh” for exam success or other happiness they tried to buy for their children. But as we laugh at our ancestor’s love of penance and guilt, are we throwing out more than we should? </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A season to cut out things that are bad for us, a season to review our habits and opt for positive change, a season to review how we treat ourselves and others – can that be a bad thing to do? Lent, like January, is a new beginning and as such is a wonderful thing. As we live in total comfort, it is good to cut out some luxuries and – instead of collecting them in a glass jar – share them with others and become aware of the abundance in our lives. Every religion has some kind of time of fasting and reconsidering and it is a great idea. I give up alcohol for lent every year – since I outgrew the sweets jar – and use lent to try and instigate an exercise regime and a healthier, more mindful lifestyle. This year, I also follow a suggestion of the Samaritans and attempt to de-clutter my life ( and my wardrobe space), packing a bag every day with things I do not need and give them away. Yesterday, it was the bottom of the wardrobe and today it is that evil little space behind the door. As with all good plans, it probably won’t be every day but it will be some days and it will make a difference. So maybe give lent a chance and give Catholicism one too. As one very “unchurchy” friend said on facebook, “Better an atheist than a hypocritical catholic”. So right, but I’d still much rather be a non-hypocritical catholic than an atheist. We made a terrible shambles of the church and horrific things have happened in the name of the church but the man who gave us the sermon of the mount and the simple – but so very difficult - rule to love our neighbour, is still the line I want to follow in my life and the line worth fighting for. </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-7941086297272954792017-02-27T05:30:00.001-08:002017-02-27T05:36:01.456-08:00After the bread round – we go to CATEX for new ideas and battle the
elements at the market<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGKAUFTcIW9A7ZotKWjBEnZrZTM3yrh-TWGRt0L-8EUtmWqtImv8pM_26NfwWDWfoW63ALqz1XSMe7wmrCTINDMQcDGCU_RMQKWO6GwBCPAxt3K1ZA2PfIGuOZMn3bOgpLhYASEIg_1ql5/s640/blogger-image--1594993188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGKAUFTcIW9A7ZotKWjBEnZrZTM3yrh-TWGRt0L-8EUtmWqtImv8pM_26NfwWDWfoW63ALqz1XSMe7wmrCTINDMQcDGCU_RMQKWO6GwBCPAxt3K1ZA2PfIGuOZMn3bOgpLhYASEIg_1ql5/s640/blogger-image--1594993188.jpg"></a></div><br><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Much as I loved to go to Barcelona to be inspired, sometimes you can’ t go quite that far and have to stay a little bit more conventional. So last Thursday we headed to CATEX, Ireland’s catering expo in Dublin. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">First however, the day – one of the worst of the whole winter – illustrated a magnificent team, a great customer base and amazing family support. You didn’t think a rotten day with gale force winds and rain could do that? Well, it can. Firstly, our senior baker, baked a full shift, starting here <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://1" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="1" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">at 3am</a>, finished at 8 and then set off to do the market, against all odds and probably against common sense too. Gale force winds disallowed the gazebo and so he sold from the back of the van, showers forcing the bread in from the – well tied down – table in front of the car twice. With never ending good humour, imagination and stamina, he never complained as he smiled, improvised, joked and sold – to our wonderful customer base who will come out hail, rain or shine and support our determination to sell on each and every market day, whatever the weather says. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So thanks very much to Philippe and all our costumers – and to the husband, who without as much as a moments hesitation, gave us his car to go to Dublin ( the van being tied down in Kilkenny - literally) So, we set of to Dublin to CATEX and lots of inspiration while he settled down to cycle home from Waterford! So good for him and his training schedule - but still much appreciated. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">With all this bad weather and good will from team and family alike, we set off for CATEX. Four years ago, we found this expo and at it bought our ovens and mixers and got to know some of the industries suppliers. Four years later, we are a little bit less green and still love to come for the ideas and the chats and – of course – for the huge amount of free samples and free food - with the arrival of the craft beer stalls and a wine bar with a wonderful timber barrel of prosecco a much appreciated addition. However much we all shop on the internet these days, there is no replacing the real thing, the machines set up and working, the demonstration of what they can do, the experts who not only meet you here but also willingly come out to anywhere in the country to demonstrate and talk you through what you need to know. For hours we walked and worked our way through a confusing maze of stalls, ate way too many different things, dreamed of sometime owning a hotel and finally settled on three things we should get. A labeling machine, a branded gazebo cover and – maybe – a vegetable prepping machine that would also handle bread crumbs. We looked at environmentally friendly packaging and planned ahead to the next great expansion when we will get rotary gas ovens. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, here I am, still grateful for all the team and family support, working through brochures and filing contact numbers but secretly dreaming of that hotel , probably with a café and bakehouse attached – but most certainly with an old fashioned drawing room with the timber barrel full of prosecco……… </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995337410958228782.post-15533726206957293302017-02-21T06:23:00.001-08:002017-02-21T07:41:57.479-08:00After the bread round and the blogger world<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEsqjBzR5Jw-SuAIORRVB4SFSl0S3263pH8je77bCI2RS6iCF_GGW2klnnSTVZcWSsnByApA8Euq9DQ8WWChlOsabto7uPVwHEJZSWKYlXw6_Qeh8ERkFrhSpGLTCL38js2gKMQ3iX-B9/s640/blogger-image-1582417588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEsqjBzR5Jw-SuAIORRVB4SFSl0S3263pH8je77bCI2RS6iCF_GGW2klnnSTVZcWSsnByApA8Euq9DQ8WWChlOsabto7uPVwHEJZSWKYlXw6_Qeh8ERkFrhSpGLTCL38js2gKMQ3iX-B9/s640/blogger-image-1582417588.jpg"></a></div>Yoga two days running and one walk – we won’t mention the daffodils trapped in last year's basket. After the bread round did another run over to the continent last week to celebrate my mother’s 90s birthday. #travelissoeasy, saw us bake <a href="x-apple-data-detectors://0" dir="ltr" x-apple-data-detectors="true" x-apple-data-detectors-type="calendar-event" x-apple-data-detectors-result="0" style="-webkit-text-decoration-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.258824);">on Friday morning</a>, have a dizzying panic session to get all the paperwork ready for the weekend and the house ready for the lovely people coming in to mind our three dogs - and then head off to the airport. A couple of hours later, we sat into another car, steering wheel gone over to the left, and headed down another motorway – considerably faster this time - to meet up with the birthday grandmother and the rest of the family. A lovely, lovely weekend later, we sit back at home in massive gratitude for such a healthy and totally fit grandmother at 90, who celebrated two days running late into the night and who we are all trying to convince to write a book. The title is going to be “When you’re 90 – my God” </span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Normally, I don’t travel that much and that quickly but I could really get used to it!! Could get used to the parellel life between Germany and Ireland, between Costello’s ale and Früh Kölsch. I could get used to seeing family more often, to shopping in Kilkenny and in Bad Münstereifel in the same week, to speaking English and German simultaneously. I could even get used to the wonderfully cheap but terribly squashy Ryanair flights and I might even realise my ambition of looking cool and sophisticated when travelling rather than permanently turning into this demented women who has lost her phone - again - while juggling a suitcase, a handbag, a coat, a duty free bag, a travel pillow, a bottle of water and her passport. Any tips of how to do this??<br><br>For the moment, I rest my holidays in the certain belief that other people in this outfit are now due a few days off but I’m just saying I could get used to it. For this week, the task is for After the bread round to become more familiar with blogging and the blogger’s world. My daughter and I read Girl Online and she follows other blogs, vlogs and Youtubers and I will have to learn. I would love to widen my readership, to take a proper step into this world and so I have to follow more blogs or, as Penny Porter says in Girl online, I have to get involved!! So if you are writing blogs or know blogs that I would like, please let me know and help me find a way into this world – and then I will actually get a computer young enough to handle the blogger site!!! After the breads round - back to baking.</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12400999841651565582noreply@blogger.com0