Sue’s World

I am Wonder Woman. It’s a secret. Nobody knows but me. My family thinks I am the domestic help and my friends, well, they only get fleeting views of me as I fly around ‘Wondering’.

Let me set the scene. Picture me: a manic, middle-aged matriarch, glasses at nose tip, in a cluttered, kid-stroke-cat filled kitchen (that’s stroke as in punctuation not caress), ‘phone clamped between shoulder and ear, stirring a pot of something aromatic and discussing the finances of the local youth club. With diminishing hormones I battle with a large house, career driven husband, teenage and seven-year-old daughters, a string of hobbies and an enthusiastic involvement in village organisations.

…It was not always thus. I was once a child, in an orderly and happy home. My mother organised, arranged and cleaned with a huge amount of energy, love and personality. And she cooked. And she taught me to cook. (more…)

Forget Marmite; Bovril is my family’s chosen British favourite.

As a child Bovril on toast was always present on the breakfast table, the squat brown jar rubbing shoulders with the marmalade, honey and condensed milk (another classic for another piece). Thick sliced white bread, toasted golden, not too dark, spread with ice cold slices of butter and lovingly topped with a thin smear of Bovril. One bite and the butter bore the impression of your front teeth. Ah happy, cholesterol days.

At weekends we often had fried bread spread with Bovril as part of the family tea, and after birthday parties, rather than waste the left over sandwiches they were fried for breakfast often with an extra spreading of Bovril.

I have carried on with the tradition, albeit in a slightly healthier manner. (more…)