On beauty and overcooked vegetables

 

On beauty, and overcooked vegetables

4/7/2025

0 Comments

 

A very good friend asked me what my next blog post would be about. We chatted about writing and I explained that I have recently been having difficulty working out what is OK to say in my blog. Before I gave up alcohol completely I found that a glass of wine helped me to find the perfect balance between saying too much and holding back on what I really feel. Now I am mostly  just holding back...... but let's see how this goes.....

This week OH and I celebrated 43 years of marriage. I explained to very good friend that 'celebrate' was probably not the right term to use. For we have never felt the need for romantic dinners, anniversary gifts or sentimental acts. We barely manage an exchange of cards. Each year it is a test of memory. Who will forget this time. In the past we have had all possible combinations of forgetting. Both, just me, or just OH ( my other half). The rememberer always gets to feel good. Phew! I made it this time.......

This year we both failed in different ways. OH took himself off to find the Mediterranean Sea for a few days, for a 'proper summer break'. No matter that we have a heatwave here in England. This was his way of dealing with the fact that he has agreed to go to Norway for our summer holiday. No weather guarantees there. I don't enjoy humidity or heat. OH thrives on sweating in the sun whilst climbing an ancient ruin. I just want to jump into a fridge. So he left an anniversary card for me at home, forgetting that I, also, wasn't at home. I had escaped the heat of suburbia for the cooler climes of Camber Sands. 
I remembered that the anniversary was looming too late to put a card into his suitcase, and had to make do with a vastly inferior e-card. Almost as bad as no card. Perhaps worse... it certainly felt desperate.

So we spoke on the day. He from a castle in Corfu, sweating in the Mediterranean sun, and me from the sunshine of Camber Sands, fresh and glorious. We laughed at our joint ineptitude, and all was good.

Which brings me to the cabbage ( and mange tout peas). How is it that after 43 years OH still cannot cook either in a way that allows one to enjoy their freshly picked, home grown delicious flavours? How can it be so hard not to boil them to a soggy mess, and serve them dripping with water, onto clean white plates? There. I said it. No going back.... and yet we have 43 years. Some things are just not worth worrying about. 

I have pondered long and hard about whether it is OK to blog about this, and realise that fear of getting it wrong was stopping me from writing at all. All this indirect communication through blogs is turning into a family specialty. Son does a wonderful job of communicating all sorts of things with us via the written word. And surely it is OK for me to reciprocate. So much that needs saying gets said, and our lives are so much richer for it. Maybe not the cabbage bit, but we all get to understand each other a little better, and that is the strength of words on a page.

And in the middle of writing this OH and I popped off to Norway where it was unvbelievably hot and sunny every day for 8 days. 27 degrees and barely a cloud to be seen. No moody landscapes on this trip.

It was so hot, and so beautiful that I barely took any photos, and my camera stayed in my suitcase for the whole trip. I fell in love with Norway, and knew that I couldn't do it justice in such a short space of time whilst on the road. I will have to return at a gentler pace.

So I soaked in the beauty, swam in the beauty, and hiked in the beauty. And that was more than enough. 

Morning sun, near Oslo airport.

life choices in the Lofoten islands - food or photography?

snow in Harstad

Other half (OH) and I are in Norway.

OH has been persuaded to join me on a photographic adventure to the arctic circle.

He normally stays at home when I go to cold, wet and rainy places. He likes his destinations hot and sweaty. I am the reverse, relishing nothing more than packing a bag full of thermal underwear, waterproof trousers and my hiking boots.

I have wanted to visit the Lofoten Isalnds in Norway for some time; ever since I saw images by David Ward from one of his tours there a few years back.

I have been harping on about going there for a year or two……… and to my delight, OH has agreed to come too. I need him to help if I get stuck in a snowdrift. The weather can be very unpredictable up here.

I have learnt a few things since we arrived.

1. I would rather be out making photos than eating.
2. OH would rather be eating than out making photos.
3. There is no shortage of spectacular scenery to make photos from.
4. THERE IS A SIGNIFICANT LACK OF FOOD AND HOT DRINKS IN THIS PART OF THE WORLD AND RATIONS MUST NOT BE ALLOWED TO RUN LOW.

Oh dear.

We started in Harstad, where it became clear that snow is everywhere, even in the town centre. This is the arctic circle, after all. Where there is a plentiful supply of sheet ice. We trod carefully.

Harsted

We made it to Vinmonopolet, to acquire liquor. 

We made it to the supermarket to get sandwiches.

We made it to the historic church. It was closed.

I could happily have taken photos of the trees, church, graveyard etc. But OH wanted to see the museum, and having dragged him all this way it hardly seemed kind to deny him his bit of history. He loves history. The older the better.

But the museum was closed.

We decided not to camp, and started our journey to destination number two.

The only sign in English in Harstad. As if…….

Time to get on the road, get to the scenery.

The scenery was snowy. The snow was piled high on the sides of the road. There was nowhere to stop and take pictures. And where the was, the view was obscured by trees.

Lunchtime.

A picnic in a lay-by. Standing on a sheet of ice.

Food on a table of snow.

lunchtime.

This is not a place for fine dining.

This is the land of fish.

Fishermen, fishing villages, fresh cod and dried cod.

Fish going all around the world.



We visited Myre and Nyksund, in Vesteralen.

A place where signs leave little room for the imagination.

The air smells of fish.

Myre

Fresh cod is shipped around the world or dried to make stockfish; unsalted dried cod.

cod drying on a wooden rack 

stockfish 

Even the music festivals revolve around cod.

Codstock poster on stockfish drying racks

Myre fishing boat heads out to sea.

Nyksund -  a deserted fishing village

This is not a place for fine dining. You can't get fish and chips, or even a cup of tea.


OH gave up and cooked us  some eggs and bacon in the microwave.

fine dining a la microwave

I stopped worrying about about food and decided to go out and do some photography.

before breakfast at Sortland

before dinner in Svolvaer

Tomorrow night I am designated chef.


I fancy toast, jam and some green vegetables.

Lofoten in winter ( after lunch)

don't touch those rocks............

Norway, Camber Sands

The sea defences are under reconstruction from Jury's Gap to The Suttons at Camber Sands.

For two years rocks from Norway will be brought ashore by boat and built into the sea wall.

Men in orange jackets are guarding the rocks closely. Health and Safety prevails.


It is a long walk up the beach to see the rocks at present, and only a few people have strayed that far from the  Kit Kat cafe and the bratwurst bar to take a peek at the works.

If you get too close, a man will shout and wave at you, and tell you to go away.

man in yellow jacket watching me watching him

There are several piles of stones, and the workers are always working, so tactics would be needed if you wanted to get closer.

Decoys would be required. False identities assumed.

For the man in the red hat will be very upset if you get near his rocks. They are dangerous.

'can't you see the sign? it says no entry'

The 'no entry' sign is in the car park, completely invisible to those who arrive on foot, strolling along the seashore. I don't envy him his job, for it will get harder and harder as the works move nearer the populated end of the sea wall.

rocks and a power station. 

Some naughty people walked right past the diggers before they were spotted.

works

Obviously I stayed well away.

And will continue to do so.