There's always a lesson in the story

After the invites had been handed out to my friends for a party at the local Ice Rink, days before my eighth birthday, I ran across the road behind the school bus and was hit by a car. My panic and shock were unmatched by those of my poor mum and the neighbours who gathered around me while we waited for the ambulance; I remember the intense pain of being moved onto the stretcher, the siren on the way to the hospital and being very upset when the nurses took the scissors to my favourite pair of cords.

The beach of my childhood White Park Bay

I woke up in the Children’s ward, my leg in traction as the fracture on my femur was too high up to be plastered. I would spend the next 8 weeks bed bound in the austere old building of Coleraine hospital; visitors climbing the stairs past the Rolf Harris mural and bringing me cards and presents galore as I filled the days drawing, reading and watching tv. There was one small wall mounted television at the end of the room, which thankfully my bed was the closest to. On my first afternoon on the ward the nurses presented a stapled two page print out list of all the VHS films they had available. I looked through the titles carefully, many I didn’t know, most were older than I was. But right at the top, presumably their most recent purchase, was Home Alone. Despite it being April I was delighted to watch the film and gleefully laughed through Kevin’s cunning capers with those naughty robbers.

Unfortunately, due to the nurses’ diplomatic decision to let the newly admitted patients on the ward choose the film, I ended up watching Home Alone daily, sometimes twice and reckoned I had seen it almost 60 times before I was discharged in the summer. Bizarrely I still love that film.

After watching it at the weekend (must be over 80 times now!) we ended up talking about the morals of stories with the kids, discussing that there is often an important message to think about or to learn from. As the eldest tried to catch us out with things he thought maybe didn’t have a clear message we batted back our understandings and suggested potential themes, ‘that’s a classic good vs evil,’ ‘be kind’ or ‘family can be the most important thing’ and maybe ‘don’t run out in front of cars.’ It’s fascinating watching those little brains develop more worldly understanding and you can almost see when lights are being turned on and new roads are created linking the ever-increasing pathways inside their wee heads.

Stylised Choux Mont Blanc

This time of year where we are all very used to being overwhelmed, stressed, bashed with never ending consumerism and greed and I feel it’s important to be able to gently share some messages with the children about being together with those we love, welcoming winter and respecting nature, sharing, generosity and even the difficult ones; the realities of war, climate change and that nothing lasts forever (the latter perfectly played out in the Snowman, tissues always required.)

After school at Broughgammon, perfect

The other show I remember watching back on the childrens ward was a programme called Gourmet Ireland with chefs Paul and Jeanne Rankin; they travelled around the island trying amazing local produce and cooking up delicious meals with it. I wonder was my love and respect for Irish food and cooking partly forged in those episodes as I watched in the evenings from my hospital bed on the banks of the Bann? Vividly, I remember one night during the show being told by the night nurse that I was the only patient in the whole hospital…imagine!

The amazing Gourmet Ireland image

Broughgammon Cavolo Nero topped pizza with garlic, capers & parmesan

It seemed serendipitous when I collected some gorgeous vegetables from Broughgammon and had saved a Nigel Slater recipe only a couple of weeks previously with the exact ingredients. Arriving home I looked forward to the guarantees that Nigel’s recipes have; ease and deliciousness with a friendly side of anecdotes and encouragement. Also I was totally delighted to be able to get such amazing produce only 6 miles down the road, cooking meals with local food makes me very happy.

Beautiful veg at Broughgammon

I accompanied the scrubbing of vegetables with a festive soundtrack and as I hummed along and swirled my hands around in the muddy water grabbing a beetroot, parsnip or carrot I started to feel very festive indeed. I used the torch on my phone to find my way out to the thyme and rosemary in the garden and added some Irish garlic from Fat Tomato; as the vegetables roasted I blitzed some of a loaf for the lovely little sprinkling of breadcrumbs that Nigel suggests. The cold burrata melted as we ate and created a luxurious creamy sauce for the veg, I was genuinely sad when I’d finished it and could happily eat it as my Christmas dinner, with some sprouts of course.

Nigel’s photo is a million times better than mine!

Next week I’ll be busy baking lots of festive delights for our community to enjoy over the holiday and I myself will be gearing up for our modest Christmas dinner; I like all the classics minus the meat though feel the children are harder to please; especially since one of them has requested pasta! I’d like to have a proper break and for next couple of weeks I will be focussing on the art of relaxation, I still haven’t mastered it. I’ll be back here in the New Year and look forward to writing and sending many more GORSES to your inboxes! If you haven’t already, I would absolutely love it if you subscribed and you’ll never miss a new post. Thank you for being here.

With lots of love and sparkly festive magic to you and yours, however you celebrate xxx