Spring festival type thing...

Well it's that time of the year when you religious types celebrate things rising from the dead (you see, you do have things in common with us gothic types...we like vampires and zombies too!). In the Monkey household, it is this time of the year when the Black Rabbit of Inlé visits the garden to shit chocolate.....(which part of 'goth' didn't you understand?).

The Black Rabbit of Inlé - Sapphire Gamgee

This results in the annual Monkey House egg hunt. You are never too old to have an egg hunt in my opinion. And there is nothing more rewarding than watching children running round the garden, like headless chickens, whilst you know where the bodies are buried....so to speak! Of course, on occasion, the egg hunt has gone on for so long that one does actually forget where one hid them. Of course, Lolli is wise to this now and waits, like some patient, overfed vulture, to see if any of the spoils of plunder will come her way. Now, I'm sure you are aware that chocolate is poisonous to dogs. Lolli seems to be the exception to this rule and is a regular indulger of all things under canine prohibition, if given half the chance. I have lost more than one half-pound bar of Galaxy to that mutt; along with cups of tea and glasses of Baileys. And don't even get me started on the amount of chicken carcasses she has stolen from the bin, it would appear she has a cast iron constitution. However, I have now taken steps to ensure she doesn't get her paws on all that spring time chocolate goodness.....I now only leave plastic eggs, filled with boiled sweets, at terrier height. I also count all of the chocolate eggs out and all of them back in, to ensure that none stay in the garden unaccounted for! (I have to write this down.....I am an old fart after all).

There would appear to have been a delivery!

Now the assault from beloved children, starts the minute I open my eyes. "Has the Easter Bunny been? Has the Easter Bunny been?" No, the Easter Bunny hasn't had a cup of tea or even managed to make it from the bedroom to the toilet yet! This continual 'pester power' carries on until I eventually lose the plot and explode in a fit of motherly expletives. Now Dude has only recently realised that the Easter Bunny is not in fact some kind hearted, leporine egg donator; but a grumpy, middle aged old goth who needs a caffeine intake prior to secreting, or indeed loosing, chocolate treats around the garden.

Competition is fierce, someone may lose a limb!

We have been lucky, the past few years, as the weather has been favourable for an outside hunt. Only once, in recent years, have I been forced to hide ovoid treats about the house, much to the interest of our chocolate loving canine.

You would think by now, that my soon to be 16 year old would be too cool for running bedlam like, around the garden for a few bits of cheap chocolate. But no, it would appear it is quite easy to sell one's street cred down the Swanee for a little of the cocoa bean! No doubt beer and ladies will have the same effect in a few years time...although I draw the line at hiding eligible batchellorettes around the property! I might concede to hiding a few tinnies though. Although not that early on a Sunday morning! Seems like only yesterday it was Pokemon and Yugi-Oh, now it's posh trainers and jeans that show more underwear than Katie Price on a photo shoot. I despair, although I suppose it's the rebellious equivalent of me dying my hair black and stomping around in Doc Martins and tartan mini skirts....and just as practical. The wind didn't half used to whip around ones nether regions. Although I tended to wear at least two pairs of garishly clashing tights underneath, albeit somewhat ripped and often 'fish netted'.

It would appear that a teenager can sniff out chocolate with only the minimum of training

Of course! This large, lazy cat will help me sniff out eggs

One thing that emerged with egg hunting, fairly early on, was that Dude has no real talent for finding eggs. Gee's patient, methodical hunting reaps him the lions share and so pooling the egg finds is the only way to ensure fairness between brothers. Dude's manic 'run around without actually lifting anything' method, fails to produce much but he has fun and big brother is magnanimous enough to sit back and allow him to play the 'colder'/'warmer' game....for a few minutes anyway.

I have considered taking them to organised egg hunts, but both boys are too old for anything local and boredom would soon set in for Number 1 son, if I could persuade the organisers to allow number 2 son to join in. And number 2 son would be reluctant to share his finds.

I have to say though, that my favourite part of Easter Sunday is the chance to splurge out on a nice joint of dead cow. A good piece of beef is too expensive for our budget normally, so it's nice to have a big lump of it on occasion. It does last for three meals, so I justify it to myself that way...although what I will do with three quarters of a jar of horseradish sauce I don't know?

Dead cow and a few veggies from the garden....nom, nom, nom

Where wolf?

Ms Monkey has just finished watching an interesting documentary, by the BBC, called The Land of the Lost Wolves. It's all about a pioneering group of wolves who have/had (sadly most of them didn't escape gun toting hunters) settled in the Cascade Mountains in North America and it reminded me of a fabulous encounter that I had with wolves while staying in Spain.

I had gone to stay in Spain with my then paramour, whilst he sorted out a property deal with his mother (they had a funny old relationship; whereby, he had moved to Spain and she had followed him out there. She was a strange old fish, who had real problems cutting the apron strings.....this probably accounted for some of his peculiar baggage. She later followed him back to the UK, I should have cut and run then, but hey ho!). On this particular evening, we had returned to her house for a bite to eat and a few glasses of what can only be described as red vinegar, before heading out to see what joys the local area had to offer in the way of night life (night clubs that looked like they were designed by Gaudi on acid, with an interior courtesy of Giger....they did very large goldfish bowl glasses full of vodka with a dash of coke as well, if my memory serves me.....it gets a bit hazy).

Now, she lived in a little shack, just outside of the town of Concentiana. About an hour inland from Benidorm (we went there, for an afternoon, about two years later.....and yes, it is everything you could want to hate about a resort. People call it Birmingham on Sea, but quite frankly I would say that is an insult to Birmingham.....and I'm not keen on going there! It does, however, have better weather). Now the area is mountainous (in the same way that Snowdonia is like the Alps.....the locals call them mountains and I certainly wouldn't want to climb one.....but then I have trouble with the stairs, so don't ask me....but I would say, they were really high hills but with some very big cliffs and steep bits. I remember visiting the Rockies as a teenager with my Canadian cousin. I exclaimed at the height of the mountains as we drove along....she laughed and said "these aren't mountains, these are foothills!" She was right!) and very rural. The hill sides were lined with olive groves and clusters of fruit trees, all surrounded in aromatic, herbal scrub called Maquis.

Her piece of land overlooked a river valley, and during the day a sizable flock of sheep could be seen grazing in the meadows adjoining the river. They could also be heard; as they had bells around their necks, which clanged gently and discordantly as they went about their business. You could just make out a shepherd (only because he seemed to have a penchant for royal blue jackets.....no accounting for taste.....of course it could be his uniform.....although I'm not aware of any such designation.....is there a guild of shepherds? What colour did Bo Peep wear?) and a motley assortment of canines, in a variety of shapes and colours....one man and his dog it was not!

My swain's mother was inside, putting on her slap or some such thing, and we were sat on the terrace, drinking terrible, chilled red wine. We had music on in the background and I remember that Gorillaz 'Clint Eastwood' was playing. I can remember thinking about all the spaghetti westerns that Mr Eastwood had stared in and wondering if they were filmed near where we were. At that moment, there was a ruckus from below us in the valley. The sheep started to cry out and their bells all started clanging noisily. A cacophony of barks erupted from the dogs and my companion turned to me saying "I wonder what that's all about?" "Wolves!" I said, probably still having day dreams of the 'Wild West' in my mind. "Don't be silly, we're only 2 miles from Town. Besides, I don't think they have wolves in Spain." I was just about to retort that I was sure I had seen a documentary about wolves in France, when the howling started.

Now there is something very primal about wolves howling. It calls to that imprint in our DNA that immediately triggers fight or flight....suddenly you are a stone age hunter-gatherer, wishing for a very big fire and a very big stick! I could feel all of the hairs standing up on the back of my neck and my beau's mother's dog started to growl from beneath my chair. Without realising it, we had both risen from our chairs and looked at each other with wonder. It was difficult to tell where the wolves were or how many of them there were, as the howls bounced around the hills but it felt as if we were surrounded by a lupine chorus. And then suddenly, it was quiet again and I realised I had been holding my breath. It can only have lasted a few minutes, but I would have to describe it as one of the most magical moments of my life.

We returned to Spain a couple of years later and stayed a few miles down the road in a slightly remoter villa. I hoped to hear the dulcet tones of those sun loving wolves once again, but it was not to be. But it was wonderful, to have been so close to such a shy, elusive predator and one day, I would like to hear the songs of wild wolves again!

The Iberian Wolf - It's moments like this which make Ms Monkey question which side of the Werewolves Vs Vampires debate she is actually on!

Funny weather we've been having!

Well, hasn't the weather been a bit peculiar lately? Summer in March and now it's snowing 'oop north'. But snow in April isn't unheard of, so don't go shouting about the coming of the 'ice age' round here! In fact Ms Monkey remembers snow on her birthday during her childhood (on a cable car at Woburn Safari Park....an open cable car....that stopped for 10 minutes) and that's on the glorious 14th. (Yes, I am looking forward to the Titanic Anniversary, as at least no one will have an excuse for forgetting this wonderful day of celebration.....and yes I know it sank on the 15th, just, but it met the iceberg on the 14th.)

So for all of you poor Northerners, wading through the snow to go about your business, I thought I would feature a few photo's that I took at the weekend to warm the cockles of your hearts (these are apparently the chambers of your heart and not, disappointingly, anything to do with a rather yummy seafood).

Looking over towards St Ives from Gwithian, not a tidal wave in sight!

The album cover shot (note moody teenage 'hands in pockets' look)

Water so clear you could drink it! Except of course it is seawater,
so you would be sick!

Truth - the moment of!

I am Seagull, look ye mighty on my works and despair...

Wahoo! Seagull on a rock! I'll catch it for you!

I may have slightly miscalculated the depth of the water...and I had my hair
done yesterday...you do have alternative plans for dinner I hope?

The obligatory lighthouse shot (doesn't that water look tropical....it was 10 degrees C)

Lolli does a fair impression of the dragon from Neverending Story

The glories of a Cornish sunset (thanks to next door for planting that palm tree
in just the right place to lend a little tropicana to my photo)

Well, I hope I have warmed your cockles on this chilly spring day....chilly for you lot that is!

Note, to the Cornish tourist board, cheques can be made payable to Ms B Monkey Esq.

Off to River Cottage!

Well, it has been glorious weather this week and it has coincided with The River Cottage 'Get Growing in Spring' Fayre. Now, for those of you who don't know Ms Monkey, I should tell you that I am a bit of a River Cottage fan and will venture a visit whenever I am able. The Fayres are a low cost way of spending the day, pottering about and absorbing the ambiance....plus, they always attract purveyors of fine organic fayre, country crafts and horticultural odds and sods.

A familiar sight....the legend that is River Cottage

For those of you who aren't aware and live in a cave; River Cottage is a program on Channel 4 about chef Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his quest to down-size and live a sustainable life. This quest has been partially successful. In that; the initial down-sizing has now up-sized because of the success of the program and general desire of a increasingly large number of people to live the River Cottage dream, myself included (although it will be a few years yet before I can sort out the small-holding bit as I shall need partners). I've met Hugh a few times and he's a lovely bloke, not celebrityfied at all and he has a marvellous recollection for faces.....or strange gothy hairdos anyway! And no, I do not have the 'hots' for him, Dave Vanian he ain't......sorry Hugh!

Now, getting there turned out to be a bit of a mission. My beloved Pearl is distinctly unwell at the moment. Her head gasket has gone and after removing the head the garage found it to be cracked. All that time driving the poor dear around, thinking I had a dodgy exhaust!! So, to replace the head I was quoted upwards of £400 by various breakers yards but to purchase a reconditioned engine would cost £300. No contest really! So she is currently undergoing an engine transplant, fingers crossed!! So the garage has lent me a VW Polo. This is great as it costs a lot less to run than the Pearl, but bad, because it is a manual. This created a huge problem; because of my disability I am unable to use the clutch or accelerator for long periods. Luckily, good ole Mrs McGregor stepped up to the plate and offered to drive said car up to Axminster, drop us off and then go questing for fossils on the Jurassic Coast.

And so we, the Monkey offspring and I, were dropped off at about eleven on the most beautiful sunny March day. There was barely a breeze and so it was definitely T-shirt weather....although Ms Monkey had not packed the factor 50, so spent the day sweltering in her black polo neck. However, ice cold Stinger beer helped to ease the heat. Stinger beer is about the only beer Ms Monkey will drink and is flavoured with nettles! They do make a big difference to the flavour, although I would rather have cider! But on a hot, sweaty March day it hit the spot! Young master Gee was allowed to have a few sips as well, although after the first few swigs he was more interested in peeling off the label than quaffing a fine ale. (Ms Monkey's view on alcohol and children has always been one of demystification. They can have it if they want it; but I'm not bailing them out of prison or cleaning up their sick! So best they do it in moderation! It seems to be working so far and they drink a lot less than I did when I was a teenager.....to be honest they couldn't drink much more and still be alive......Ms Monkey's recollection of the teenage years is a little hazy).

So, what can you do to annoy a sunbathing teenager?

Bingo! "Now, if only I had filled full of water first", thinks Dude

There were various lectures throughout the day, although my miserable brood refused to allow me to sit through more than one. I managed to catch Gil's lecture on cooking Razor clams, which made me extremely hungry! There were also lectures on foraging from John Wright, gardening talks from Mark Diacano and The Three Hungry Boys talking about....being hungry! Mostly we go to the River Cottage Fayres for the ambience and the shopping.....next time the children can stay at home!!

We did come home with some fabulous purchases:

Burn, baby burn.....I can see some regrets in the near future

Our first fabulous purchase, was a couple of chili plants, one of which is the legendary Dorset Naga. Let's put this into context, a Scotch Bonnet chili tests at about 150,000 - 325, 000 SHU (Schoville Heat Units - basically, how many drops of water are needed to dilute the chili to a point of neutrality), whilst a Dorset Naga is about 1 million SHU. After a stern lecture regarding responsible behaviour (mostly directed at Gee.....in other words I need to keep it in a safe and count the fruit each morning to make sure he's not taking any to school) we were sold a little plant, I shall call him George! Now I know Gee wants to try one; I shall be standing by with a fire extinguisher filled milk or lassi (that's a yogurt drink not a dog), as does my dear friend Juice. I, on the other hand, think that I might just make some chili sauce with the fruit....for special occasions! I also bought a much more 'friendly' chili plant called Fairy Lights, chosen for its purple leaves. It still packs a punch at 50,000 SHU but will be perfect for cooking, me thinks!

Oxalis tuberosa.....no, I haven't a clue what to do with it!

We also got some funny Oxalis tubers, which appear to be grown in South America as an alternative to potatoes (although the chap we bought them off suggested the were similar to radish.....time will tell, I suppose).

Another shrimp for the barbie anyone

We got hold of some fabulous Eco-disposable BBQ's, which will be perfect for the beach this summer. It's basically a carved out piece of tree trunk filled with charcoal, which means no red hot pieces of metal to drag home. A simple but brilliant idea! Wish I'd thought of it......wish I had a chainsaw!

Apart from shopping, one of the reasons for heading up to River Cottage was to have a nosey at their barn. If you weren't aware; a fire ripped through the barn from the kitchen. This was the barn where I have spent many a night, slightly sloshed......alright, completely plastered.....munching on the fabulous foodie offerings that River Cottage has to offer.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPMkyLXbrsA Dramatic video alert!

What's left of the Barn

The Barn - Another angle

I really hope they get the barn up and running again soon, Ms Monkey intends to add some more bleary, alcohol soaked, foodie memories to her collection in the not too distant future! Ms Monkey has, today, booked her ticket for the annual members party; where, I can assure you, she will be propping up a bar, sipping elderflower champagne and poking succulent, organic, dead animal round a plate!

Ms Monkey and her old friend Hugh at last years Members' Party