Posts filed under 'Personal'
July 14th, 2008
I’m writing this on the last day of yet another fabulous holiday in Slovenia. Dad and I reprised our visit of last year, returning to Bohinj and Kobarid. The weather was very much in our favour as we learned that the previous week had seen constant rain and the secret waterfall above Lake Bohinj, which only appears when an underground lake is sufficiently full to overflow, had appeared for only the third time this year. We however arrived to a heatwave which was to continue the whole fortnight, with only the final two days seeing a couple of brief thunderstorms.
My admiration for this country continues to grow, and I seriously wonder if I could move here. Populated by an industrious and charming people, they also seem to have the right idea of pace of life and what is really important. And two of the most important subjects are food and drink, both of which they excel at. Indeed the only fault I can find overall is that they seem to have little concept of a light lunch! It is easy to eat so much that dinner becomes unnecessary, and that would be a crime.
Slovenian food and drink
Their ingredients are sublime: beef and venison that seems to require the lightest of cooking but exudes flavour and succulence, fish that melts on the tongue, mushrooms that can only have been created by forest elves, and soft fruits and berries that explode on the tongue with juices of scarcely describable taste. Parents, if British children won’t eat fruit and veg (and I have to raise my hand as a long time carnivore) then they aren’t being pernickety, they are merely showing good taste – the fruit you get in the UK, often imported out of season from forced cloches in Spain and similar countries, is tasteless and tough compared to the fresh, vibrant selection available in Slovenia. I have never much liked cherries – they are hard poor things in Scotland, here I have them for breakfast and then go out to a fruit stall for more. Sensational is an inadequate word. I seldom liked strawberries which often display a rough texture except in the very best time of year for native Scottish ones; here they melt in the mouth and leave juice stains in the dish.
All this of course still requires a good chef and a good waiter to interpret his creations and blend suggestions of wine and courses. Many Slovene restaurants adept at this, even the smallest simplest establishments produce excellent food, but I feel confident in saying I have been lucky enough to find the best in the Topli Val restaurant in the Hvala Hotel in Kobarid. It has won a number of awards and in my opinion if anywhere ever deserved a Michelin Star then this is it. I can only assume they haven’t visited it. In the space of two weeks – one last year and one this – I have learned more about the blending of tastes, both courses and wines and different ingredients and their effects on each other, than in a lifetime of visiting other restaurants, many of them which I thought very good. All the staff in the hotel are as friendly and attentive as could be wished for with a real personal touch that makes you feel at home; we were remembered despite it being only our second visit and greeted as old friends, but I simply cannot rate the chef and head waiter highly enough – they have delighted and educated us in equal measure. To give only one example for now, Scotland produces excellent scallops and I’ve tasted quite a few fine instances; the scallops I had here were in a different class, cooked in highest quality olive oil and presented with baby tomatoes and black olives in a delicate combination that even included the (usually purely decorative) sprig of rosemary which absorbed just enough heat to exude a perfectly combined additional scent. Heavenly.
Slovenian Wine and Beer
Slovene beer is second only to Czech in my opinion, clear and clean tasting and wonderfully refreshing on a hot day. However it is Slovenian wine which is the real secret and one which I cannot understand is not more widely known and appreciated. Having this year visited one of the best wine growing regions it is easy to see they have ideal conditions, and they certainly make the best of them. Forget the cheap Laski Reisling which was the only one ever really exported in any quantity to the UK; whether the grape is Chardonnay, Pinot, Sauvignon or one of their local varieties, Slovenian wines display a depth of character and smooth variety of flavours that had us both purring in satisfaction. Their cheaper wines are very good, their select wines are simply outstanding. Sadly the only way to get them in Britain was to import them directly, with the consequent postage costs; however there are moves afoot to establish a distributor and if this occurs then perhaps they might at last achieve the recognition they deserve. Either way I’ll be drinking them whenever I have the chance.
May 19th, 2008
This is a time of year that I’ve always liked – the air is still fairly fresh (well, apart from the traffic pollution), it’s bright and the evenings are longer, but most of all … the Swallows are back!
I saw the first few about nine days ago and so far the most I’ve seen together is six, but even a couple are enough to bring a smile to my face and a lift in my heart. There’s something about their uninhibited, joyous, swooping flight that raises the spirits and reminds you that life is there to be enjoyed.
Last year we had around twenty regularly circling and diving around the rooftops of our flat; the most we’ve had since the old brewery buildings over at Fountainbridge were demolished. Long may they return to announce the summer.
January 3rd, 2008
From Xmas Eve onwards I spent a week on the island of Malta. It was place I was interested in seeing due to its Dunnett connections and there was the hope of some midwinter warmth and light to dispel the gloom and cold of a Scottish winter.
The week started promisingly enough, a morning flight from Glasgow was smooth and uneventful and landed us amid pleasant sunshine and 18 degree temperatures. It was busy on the transfer ride, but the view from the hotel’s roof terrace over to Valletta was spectacular and the light as the sun went down was pleasing. As I started to relax I realised that only force of will had been keeping me going for the previous few weeks and I felt curiously detached, like a sailor finding his sea-legs, and found it easy to take occasional naps. Xmas day was quieter, and I took a longish walk in the pleasant sunshine, round the various marinas and almost to Valletta itself. Had I realised what was to come I’d have continued up the hill and taken more pictures, but feeling tired and having an equal walk back I retraced my steps. Once back at the hotel I astonished myself by falling asleep in the bath for the only time in my life.
Boxing day dawned to a squally wind and no sun; it was not to return for the rest of the week. Walking north to St Julian was, as we say on the east coast of the UK, bracing. Through binoculars I watched what became the final harbour tour boat of the week swing out of the Grand Harbour and into Sliema Creek where I was staying. I was glad not to be aboard as it pitched and rolled alarmingly while turning side on to the waves. For the rest of the week not even the ferry which runs from Sliema to Valletta, never leaving the sheltered harbour, ran at all, such was the swell.
The next day I took a bus to Valletta, there being little point in going further afield in the gloomy conditions. The buses are mostly ancient British Leylands and Bedfords which are, by some engineering and administrative miracle, still deemed roadworthy. Mine appeared to be missing at least two gears and hand signals seemed to be the order of the day. With no seat padding and little legroom I would not like to inflict a long journey in one on my long limbed frame.
Valletta was packed with people and to my horror had speakers on the lamposts blaring out hollywood xmas songs. (One more chorus of Frosty the Snowman and I swear I’d have raided the nearest armoury and set about demolishing lamposts). I escaped into the Archaeology Museum for some peace and quiet and some understanding of the ancient history of the islands. It took some time to find a quiet cafe down one of the many side streets, but the food was excellent and plentiful. Nearby was the Carmelite Church whose massive dome dominates the skyline and once again the silence was welcome while admiring the architecture. Apparently the dome was constructed without internal scaffolding, which is an amazing feat of building skill.
Sadly there is little else worth writing about. The weather turned worse, waves throwing spray high up the Valletta sea wall, and culminated in a massive thunderstorm on the Saturday which flooded the road outside the hotel. My plans to venture further afield, particularly to the walled city of Mdina were shelved.
Maybe I’ll get another chance, maybe not. While I didn’t see it in its best light, it has to be said that I didn’t fall in love with Malta the way some people do. For one thing it is too crowded and busy for my taste. For another, strange as it may seem, it is too British. While it has no doubt reasserted its own identity since becoming independent in the 1960s, it retains some of the old British ways that to me sit uneasily with a Mediterranean population. And it seems to be becoming a retirement home for brits. I’m not sure that’s healthy in such a small island.
October 25th, 2007
I got the news this week that mum won’t be going home any more.
Eight years ago she had a severe stroke and has been paralysed on one side and unable to speak ever since. She was already in poor health and dad had been looking after her for quite a while. She’s now 82, he’s 84. Apart from help getting her up in the morning and putting her to bed at night he gets no other help apart from the occasional period in respite care. For all that time he’s had disturbed nights – up four or five times a night – and like anyone would he’s struggled with lack of sleep. He’s done all the cooking and cleaning and all the other chores of caring for an invalid. Basically it’s been wearing him out, but he’s a man of great integrity and sense of duty so he’s carried on, with little complaint except when at the end of his tether.
After a lot of persuading he finally agreed to let the doctor recommend that mum be assessed for care and this week we got the report to say that she would be kept in the respite hospital until a place could be found in a nursing home.
As might be expected he’s torn between relief that he doesn’t have to face the daily and nightly grind of constant care, and guilt that he couldn’t do it any more.
As yet we don’t know what it’s likely to cost so that constant worry of the last few years is still to be resolved.
As for me I’m relieved for him, while sorry for the fact that mum is having to leave her home behind. But most of all I’m angry – that someone who fought for his country in some of the worst fighting of the Second World War, sustaining injuries that would dog him for many years and cast a cloud over my own childhood, should be left to cope with such a situation for so long with poor advice and little backup. Our elderly people should be allowed to enjoy their final years without such worries and stresses. They’ve done their bit; fought, worked, brought up children, paid their taxes and their National Insurance, contributed in every way to the economy and the well-being of the country. We should honour them, respect their experience and their knowledge. Instead we treat them like a burden that we’d like to forget about.
A land fit for heroes? Hah!
Maybe we should put the politicians in nursing homes and tell them that’s where they are going when they get voted out. That might change things.
July 12th, 2007
Welcome. This is my new personal blog where I’ll be talking about things that don’t fit into my other blogs on Search Engine Optimisation and on Dorothy Dunnett. Things like photography – I’ll use this as a test bed for new photos before deciding whether or not to include them in the main photo galleries. Like books, or music, or comments on the social and political occurrences of the day.
The visual layout may change – this was the nearest I could get to something useful without doing a lot of customisation that I don’t have time for right now.
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