De-cluttering after the holidays

After the bread round  and after the holidays, we are bursting with energy and are on a mission to declutter. Our sitting room doubles up as an office with my desk in one corner and a sofa and table in the other.  A lovely if small room, it boasts a tiny fire place and contains masses of life’s paraphernalia. A beautiful oil painting of an old cousin’s Wicklow cottage reminds me of her long years in the local nursing home, where the painting dwarfed her room and she, only at the very end, stopped noticing that the painting was badly lit. A water colour of Achill island was a present from my parents when we holidayed there together, sharing the B&B with a Canadian artist. Prints of hussars remind me and the children of my father wild stories from a time when soldiers rode to battle and so the line continues along the wall with photographs new and old and presents that are either a long standing joke, a dream or a plan. Into this room, last year, moved both exam candidates with their ton load of books. Another desk was added to the already nicely loaded room and they worked and worked while one studied and the other made lists of what he was going to study tomorrow. At this stage, there is no room to swing a cat or a hoover and the clutter builds up – until they finally sit the exams, desert the room and we all go on holidays. Thankfully, the declutter energy comes back with us. Visiting a nephew who recently set up house and started a family, we stay in his lovely flat, empty of paraphernalia and beautiful in its stark functionality. We want a space like that and thus we energetically declutter. 3 wheelbarrows full of rubbish later, the room is still full and incredibly dusty with hundreds of indignant spiders roaming around but we are winning the declutter battle and courageously throw out masses and masses of bits and pieces that we will never look at again and never needed in the first place. The good bits are still here, the exams eradicated, the space salvaged and a beautiful room nearly restored. Once I stop sneezing, I shall start dusting in earnest and might even rise to a spot of painting. It feels great to move the clutter on and  I move on to the kitchen dresser with its lots and lots of little spaces full of lots of things that nobody needs. The bins fill up and a “check it” bucket is created. Everyone has one night to check the bucket and salvage what they like. After that it goes in the trailer for the dump – or the crate for the sale. Turns out nobody needs anything that was in the drawers, the seeds are about 10- years out of date, no house needs 12 tighteners of soccer studs and the gum shields are too small for any mouth residing currently in this house. The bake house has escaped the clutter and remains functional and bright. The house will have to follow suit and then the garden, if the energy lasts that long. As we grow older, as the children grow up, we still make the choice how we want to live. Friends once gave us a sign that says "This is not a construction site, children live here". Maybe it is time to reclaim the space from construction and stop blaming the kids for our mess. 

World champion

A break is not only relaxing, enjoyable and recharging.  A holiday also means a new start afterwards with new ideas, new plans and most of all great new resolutions as to how we are going to improve every aspect of life and business. Holidays are not only good for us but for everyone around us, as we turn easier, friendlier and open to new plans and proposals. The daily routine has lots its crippling hold over us and new ways become possible. 
I love holidays, especially the summer, when we close for over 3 weeks and go to Germany for nearly a month. A complete break with life at home, we reconnect with family, become a little bit German again and alternate lazy days of sunshine, chat and food with days of pure tourism and then again with driving days to get to more people to talk to and eat with. This year we became even more German than normal as we went native and became “Weltmeister”, joining the wonderful excitement of the world cup and that wonderful goal that got us that much wanted 4th star. Speltbaker’s car now sports German flag magnets and a window flag and we even took part in the local “auto-corsa”, where after a win, everyone takes to the roads and takes over the local round-abouts for lots and lots of victory laps. Germans, who normally are terribly law abiding,  seat belt wearing and sometimes quite boring in their seriousness, could now be seen driving 8 to  a car with one sitting out of each window, waving their flags and shouting their happiness from the roof tops. We have changed and have become able to show our joy and pride in our national team in a way that used never be possible. “Wir sind Weltmeister!”. After nearly 70 years, the Germans are again able to pronounce themselves winners, to be proud and cheeky – without feeling guilty that they are not feeling guilty anymore. Happy people are always good to see and happy people spread happiness around them. So we had a very happy holiday and come back invigorated and ready for another year of work and play, of a growing business, an ambitious cycling project  and of changing lives as children leave school and move on. This blog will now come to you twice a week while the junior baker is starting on Youtube with her vlog “Girl on tour”. Massive energy all around.  

As spring turns to summer – we live in hope

Summer is coming, the daffs have been and gone, a beautiful camellia is sitting on the window sill outside waiting to be potted and hopeful window boxes with unkillable remains of begonias are waiting to be restocked with primroses and daffodils, with heather and with ivy.  Spring is a time of optimism where miserable gardeners like me go for walks through Altamount garden and think that this year is going to be the year where colour will infuse my own garden and vegetables will grow in abundance. 

In reality, I will probably only ever have unkillables like the brave daffodils and tulips that find their way through last years overgrown grass again and the sturdy rubharb that is rekindling its stocks again. However it is spring and we live in  
hope.


We also live in hope that that elusive truck from France will come in and bring our long awaited ration of spelt flour which will see Speltbakers out of our supply crisis. We live in hope that farmers in Ireland and Europe will head the call of demand and grow more spelt and we live n hope that our small fledging business will grow and prosper.

We live in hope that the teenage baker’s exam will not be badly  
affected by having to start work at 5.30 every other morning. We live in hope that we will actually keep up this blog this time rather than making it only every 6 month. But this is spring that turns to summer.  Good plans and resolution made in lent are at an all time high. If not now than never.  So we resolve to write a weekly blog and not to be overwhelmed by the nitty gritty of the business, the hassle of the storms and  the failing water system in this old house.  

We will focus on the blooms and the beauty, on the bird sound and the sound of kids playing outside again. We will presume that car and water system are fixable and  soon a month will end  with just a little bit of a cushion in the bank. We will take the sign of building in the neighbourhood as the turning point of the recession and we will remain positive and delighted with life  - as the truck arrives from France and 20 bags of flour roll into the strore. Small business and small quantities yet but Speltbakers bakes on.

Taking a break

The bake house is closed for the month. For 10 days before we closed, we baked mornings and afternoons, We made over 100 par baked rolls for the freezer, over 150 ciabatta and 60 stromboli. We filled our freezer and labelled the bread for those shops that still wanted to use our bread on holidays. We filled other freezers as customers ordered in advance for their own requirements. We worked hard, loved the fact that we were going on holidays and loved the fact that our bread was important to customers. The last weekend at home we had our traditional School book burning BBQ, where we burned all the workbooks and copy books we no longer needed and where we burned all that went wrong in the long school year - all that we can now forget for the long and lazy summer. Starting a new era, the oldest finished school for good and sitting by the fire in the garden for a long time that night, plans were hatched and songs were sung. After that long week of work and the weekend of partying, we packed in a couple of hours, welcomed our house sitter, put on the roof boxed, forgot a few things at home and headed for the ferry for a month break in Germany with family, with good weather and with old familiar places and new things to explore. 

In the middle of a forest in the Eiffel is the first stop, stopping with the grandmother who at 87 is well able for a week of four extra grandchildren, who supplies copious amount of food and beer, who makes her own Nutella and has a press full of juggling balls, meter long mikado sticks and badminton rackets, a uni cycle to practise on and rose bed to weed. The leaving cert student and his father head off to the Nuerburgring for their four day stint of unrelentless racing. The German formula one Grand Prix provided excitement, noise and, for the school leaver, the certainty that motor sport engineering is the way to go.

After the bread round didn’t indulge in cars but went scouting around the neighbourhood for a bakery that still bakes. Sadly, even the famous German bakeries that used to operate in each village, open at 5.30 and supply every house with freshly baked rolls and breads, have nearly all embraced par baked frozen deliveries. Here, as at home, “freshly baked in-store”  now means unpacking frozen breads to bake them for a few minutes in the oven. Taste and nutrition don’t really like this process but costs are kept at a minimum and bakeries can compete again with supermarkets on price,  while cheap products remain the customer’s decision making priority.

Four mornings, we ate a bland concoction of soft and squishy bread rolls until we found the one bakery that still bakes. The rolls were crisp and tasty, differing in flavour and shapes and the sour dough loaf a dream. The bag of rolls and treats was about 30% more expensive than in the other shops but definitely worth it. We got chatting, admired their bake house and might be allowed in to watch some morning next week. Working a proper night shift, they start at 12.30am and open their bakery at 5.30 in the morning. What a time to start shopping!!!!! After the bread round is happy to live and bake in Ireland.

 Close the skylight!

And then the rains came again and it rained and rained and rained. One week of summer seems all we will be allocated this month with wild hopes that the weather gurus are right and we shall see some heat in July. One week of sunny holidays for some and sunny exams for others. One week of sun at 5 in the morning, of open bake house doors. One week of delight to be followed by the dreaded return of the rain. As much as the sunny week cheered everyone up and made everything easier, the rains have brought us right back indoors - turning on lights and fires for comfort and cheer. After the bread round,  the most important thing is to close that skylight to keep the rain out and the heat in. The next most important thing is to get on the Internet and find a house sitter. Tradition - and sanity - demand that we close every July and go to Germany to visit the family and take a proper good long break.  Dogs, the cats and especially the chickens that tend to multiply at this time of year stay here and need looking after, so  house minders have proven fantastic. Housecarers.com is a great site where people like us find sitters and adventurous travellers find places to stay. Twice we had a couple from Australia staying who not only minded our house but cleaned it, tidied it, looked after the animals and the garden and fixed all sorts of things some of which I didn't even know needed fixing. Bliss to know your house is looked after, your animals are fine and super bliss to come back from holidays to a warm house with a dinner in the pot a bottle of wine on the table.

That's optimism !!

So house minders are required again this year and plans have to be made to close the bakehouse for one month. Notice has to go ou so that customers can order in advance and lots and lots of plans are already being made for August when we return with new ideas and new energy. Last Sunday at one of the many  "emigration  parties", we met a friend from a while ago who now delivers twice a week from Kilkenny to delicatessen shops in Dublin. Well that gave us some ideas for August. Ideas that involve a night shift to have deliveries ready to go by 2 am, ideas that involve Speltbakers bread in Dublin delis. After the bread round is making plans. Watch this space and wait for the rains to stop.

They actually did after I hung out the washing!!! Maybe that's how it works? Have a little faith, hang out the washing in the drizzle and out comes the sun!!!

 When are we parking and when unloading?

After the bread round we got really cross today because a  traffic warden wouldn't believe that I was on the bread round at all. 3 minutes I stayed in front of the shop - in a loading bay. I showed him him the baskets in the back,  I insisted that I could stop off in the loading bay in front of the shop - because guess what, I was unloading. A small, in fact, a tiny bakery as we are, I was unloading a basket not a pallet but unloading nevertheless. He wouldn't believe me, wouldn't even listen and waving his little computer at me, he took down my details and said he was only doing his job. So was I -  but then apparently not.

The offending vehicle

Just as the business is slowly growing and sales are up and the mood is high - here comes the downer, the kick out of the delivery community that may use the loading bay. My car, you see is the family car. It has seven seats because that's how many we are and it doubles up as  delivery vehicle. It is insured as such but not taxed as a van. It isn't a van. So. Mr Grumpy who is only doing his job, is perfectly entitled to wave his little computer at my tax disc and claim that this private car had no right to park in the loading bay but I wish he listened, I wish he bothered to get to know cars that deliver every day. His colleague in High Street does, his colleague in High Street even waves me on and tells me which loading bay is free. His colleague in High Street wants to keep the traffic going, the shops stocked and he keeps the delivery vehicles moving, be they big or small. Frank knows the small community of delivery vans, Frank does much more than his job, Frank runs the street. Mr Grumpy just does his job and someone should tell him that may not be enough.

As we wait to spend this week's profit on a traffic ticket - for unloading in a loading bay.

On the river

The sun still shines but we all have heard that it won't last and we use the last days and hours. Sunday afternoon in Graiguenamanagh at the river Barrow was like a Mediterranean  holiday resort. A beautiful river with one of the nicest bridges in Ireland. Brandon Hill in the background and boats moored either side of the river. Lazy ducks on the river and a party in full flow on the other side with a band belting out popular songs. The club house changing rooms are open, the locals are out, joined by lots and lots of others who know about the best swimming and diving spot in the South East. Here are the steps where the rowing club launches their racing boats and where we non rowers can sit, dangle the legs in the water or push each other in for an involuntary dip. Here are the diving boards, 1 meter and 3 meter where the braver ones jump in and where each very energetic jumper sets the 3 meter board off to a clanging that supports the drummer from the other side of the river.

We have brought our kayak, a double sit on plastic boat, and bring it down to the steps - only to discover that a winter of leaving the kayak in the garden has resulted in an ants nest in one of the seat covers!!! Nasty red biting ants - that thankfully can't swim. We turn the kayak upside down, take off the seat cover and  get bitten and bitten some more as the ants desert the boat and take refuge up my trouser legs instead. Marginally hysterically, we win however and set off up river, leaving the crowds along the diving boards and passing the little beach, which -  in pre-sun times - doubles as  a cattle drinking spot, with a beach line of 2m. In the summer however, it is a beach with  a life guard  present,  flags flying and swimming lessons available. After the beach comes the bend in the river and after that peace and tranquility as you cannot buy. In the background, the band still plays on but all we really hear are our paddles and the shrieks of our  non paddling passengers as he gets splashed and nearly capsizes us all pretending he is on the Titanic.

More lazy than energetic, we paddle on around another bend and drift around a bit, enjoying the sun, the water and the company. Eventually, we turn and head back to civilisation and our picnic, the totally crucial part of any outings. We pull up at the boat slip this time and out comes Pitta bread with tomato sauce, sandwiches, brownies, hot chocolate  and tea.

As the sun looses its power, the swimmers disappear and the last cool dudes climb the 3 meter board and declare they'd jump no problem but it was a bit cold and anyway, tomorrow they'd give a go - and they go down by the ladder again, swagger off hands in pockets, all three the same rolling walk, the same flower shorts.

Too lazy to paddle on, we pack up our boat and our picnic and give the non paddling passenger a run along the river on his BMX. At the little beach there is a log seat which civilised parents use to sit on while their children swim. We play balancing games on it, slapping each other off the log. Last one standing wins. I like it when I can still beat my  children. Not sure it looked great though, when one of them  nearly flew into the river. 

Time to go, the bread round starts again on Tuesday and the bake house still needs its weekly clean up.