Songs, skirts and scones

With a fifth birthday coming up next week ánd a long desire to sew some bunting, I set my roller blade and sewing machine in action last week! When I came back from the Netherlands last March, I returned with half a suitcase full of 7 x 7 inch fabric pieces from my mum. They have been patiently waiting for a project and this was it: the right size for flags and nice colours as well. My first attempt was with the blue fabrics: 25 flags, 5 x 5 different patterns.

After a lot of patient cutting and pinning, I managed to sew the pieces together two by two over the course of two evenings. The second evening I even managed to pin all the flags to the bias band. Although the sewing machine was at the ready, I knew that if I started sewing that night, I would not see my bed at a reasonable hour, nor spent any productive time at work. So, tatatada: when the children were watching Pingu this afternoon, I quickly got out the sewing machine, sat down and zip zip zip: done! I am happy, to-be-birthday-girl was most certainly happy (especially since I promised her to make a pink one as well), so I am hoping for many more happy birthdays to come!

On the 22nd of May the Armagh Pipers Club held their annual end of the year singing session. Last year it was held in ‘my’ library for the first time. As most of the singers are between ± 8 and 15 years old, a non-pub, and private, setting for the session is much appreciated by the parents. Of course the library is a wonderful place to be in anyway, but it is extra special to me to hear lovely traditional singing there, as well as being able to sing there myself, aloud within being shushed!

The guests of the night were singers Roisin White and her husband Alwyn. Roisin lived and worked in Armagh up to a few years ago and I met her quite a few times at all sorts of singing events. She now lives in County Clare and travels a lot to festivals to perform and to teach. She has a lovely direct style, which (I have to admit) when I first heard her sing on a video in the Ceol center in Dublin in 1999, was not taken with at all… But very quickly, after listening to all sorts of singers at festivals, sessions, on recordings, I have grown to love that way of singing.

Everybody had a good time singing and listening. Some of the songs sung were: Green Grows the Laurel, Ballyconnell Fair, For Ireland I will not tell her name, The Banks of the Callan, Coleraine Town, Follow the Heron, Caroline and her young sailor bold, Boys of Tandragee, A man’s a man, Lone Shanakyle.

Roisin concluded the session by singing Complete Awkward Strangers,  a wonderful song about friendship and saying goodbyes. It had me in tears once when it was sung to conclude a really late session at the Slieve Gullion Singing Festival at which people had sung so beautifully and had been so kind to me. Some time after that Rosie taught it at the Joe Mooney Summer School. It is always nice to hear it sung by a group of people.

Listen here to Complete awkward strangers during the summer school’s recap.

I sang two songs that evening: Henry Joy McCracken and, as my voice was not well, I opted for a nice short second song, a Swedish song that I often to my girls before they go to sleep. I learned this from a recording by Estonian-Swedish singer and musician Sofia Joons. I norwegianised it (studied Norwegian loooong time ago), which makes it sound more plausible to me, and hopefully the people who listen to the song.

Papa gav meg hest og sadel, ba meg skri og ri,
Moder gav meg bok og pen, ba meg lese og skri,
Søster gav meg nål og trå, ba meg silkje søm,
Broder gråt så bitterlig, ba meg hjemme bli.

Father gave me a horse and saddle, asked me to ride away,
Mother gave me a book and pen, asked me to read and write,
My sister gave me a needle and thread, asked me to sew silk,
My brother cried so bitterly, asked me to stay at home.

Listen to Ensamt here.

Henry Joy McCracken I learned from Rosie Stewart’s recoding on her album Adieu to lovely Garrison. I remember when I was in Mullaghbawn years and years ago for the singing festival, and wanted to sing it at the session (after a glass of cider and when nearly everybody had left (chicken)). I asked Roisin, who I didn’t really know at that time, what local people might think of a foreign girl singing a ballad like that. She encourage me to sing it and I enjoyed it a lot. It has remained one of my favorite songs.

Listen to the first verse of Henry Joy McCracken here (I tried to record the whole thing, but it is one of those nights: skip a verse, start again, voice cracking up, start again, truck driving past shakes the house, start again…)

What a wonderful few days we have had last week. It seemed summer had finally arrived! We had a nice weekend ahead of us: Armagh Pipers Club toddler garden party in the afternoon, APC singing session in the Public Library in the evening and on Sunday I was going swimming with the girls.

Paul took the girls to the party, while I was quite content to stay behind and bake some oat cookies for the evening session. I could have gone for a lavish cake, but we are quite particular about food consumption in the library, so I opted for one-bite-no-crumbs (hopefully) cookies. I made the cookies from Attic24’s Lucy recipe again, this time adding some sunflower seeds and raisins. They were lovely and soft (not that I tasted them before the session, no way, ehum) and I hid them as soon as they were cool.

Well prepared and relaxed I walked up with the cookies in the evening, only to realise I had forgotten the keys to the library. Run-run back, get car key so I could drive back quickly, nearly again forgetting the library keys…. Luckily I was still on time and could set up, leaving the cookies in the kitchen.

Yes, you are guessing right, after the organisers came in, so much food was put in the kitchen, the cookies had disappeared, only to re-appear áfter clearing up… Ach well, I’m sure there are some people at home who wouldn’t mind eating two trays of cookies!

25 April 2010

The nice thing about the photo experiment is that it is easier to spot those subtle changes in nature whenever there is a slightly warmer day, or even whenever nature is just a week further into the season.

27 April 2010

28 April 2010

29 April 2010

30 April 2010

1 May 2010

Every since I suffered a sunstroke over twenty years ago, in Norway (of all places), my head is quite sensitive to sunshine. I know I should have a hat on whenever I am out in the sun, but when it is not summertime, I forget or do not feel like wearing a wide brimmed khaki sunhat in April. Finding a funky hat that fits me has proved impossible over the years, so this year (after I was really sick again from the sun a couple of weeks ago) I decided to make my own! In One Yard Wonders there is a pattern for a good-hat-day-hat, of which I don’t really like the use of strips, but the basic shape is perfect. I took two of my favorite Anna Maria Horner fabrics, one for the outside and one for the inside, as the hat is reversible. Blue is my favorite and brown is for those days when I am not wearing any blues!

Taking the measurements was a little difficult: given in inches, whereas my brain works in centimeters. So, my first attempt to measure and cut was halted in its tracks, as I was watching iPlayer at the same time. I can definitely not count and watch tv at the same time. The next day however it did work and I managed to sew the whole hat in one evening. I used a different way of putting the pieces together: more like how I would sew bags. Sew together the outside, the sew together the inside, sandwich the brim in between, sew around the edge leaving a couple inches open for turning. After turning the opening edges are turned and closed with a top stitch. Et voila!

Turns out I took (guessed) the wrong measurements for the sides! I wasn’t sure if I should add the seam allowances to the measurements given r whether they were included. Now the sides are just a little to high. Nice and warm, but it looks a little like a train drivers hat, so I need to take it in a little. But, nonetheless, I am really happy with my funky hat!

Last Saturday was a lovely glorious day. Fairly early I got the children ready to go on a trip to Loughgall for the annual Bramley Apple fair. Leaving Paul to recover from his sickness in his bed, we drove of with blue skies and sunshine. From the Loughgall Country Park, a mini buss took us up to the Manor Estate, if this would have been the only thing we did on this trip, it would have made it worthwhile! The children were so excited: the bus took a slight detour through the park and estate leaving us to marvel at beautiful views. At the Manor wonderfully presented stalls covered a large area of the gardens: baked goods, jams, fruit, veg, local meat, cheese, ethnic food, plants, sweets, cards, games, petting farm, and of course, the most important feature of all: the bouncy castle!

We had a lovely time playing, eating and shopping: we arrived home with rhubarb, freshly pressed apple juice, goat’s cheese, naan bread spice mixture, mashmallows. I had been very good and did not buy any plants or cakes! When we arrived home, we were glad to see Paul up and about (a little), telling us that an old friend from the Netherlands and fellow piper Swier would be visiting us on Sunday. He was on a business trip around Ireland and had a day left to spent before travelling home. His business trip was not your average trip: spending a week on a  ship to do biological maritime research!

Of course a cake had to be made for this occassion, we haven’t seen him for a year or two! That big bundle of rhubarb I bought at the fair came in quite handy. The squashy rhubarb cake from Leith’s Baking Bible is moist, sweet and tangy and, well, squashy.

Sunday morning I set to baking the simple recipe of dough at the bottom, sugared rhubarb scattered on the dough, and a crumble to top it of. A little dusting of icing sugar on the top after it has cooled down makes it just that little bit more festive. I find these squashy cakes are usually better tasting once they have cooled down anyway!

When Swier arrived, we sat outside in the sunshine, drank coffee, had cake and generally talked the time away. The cake went down really well, apart from the girls, who moved their plates to us, ach, the burden.  But, we were very good and did not finish the cake ourselves: on Monday I took the leftover pieces to work for two colleagues who had helped me out earlier in the week!

Roddy McCorley

The song Roddy McCorley was one of the many many songs I recorded during my visits to the Slieve Gullion singing festival in Mullaghbawn, South Armagh. A young singer, Creena Mulchrone, was guest singer there in 2001, when she would have been around 13. I had heard her sing during the Joe Mooney Summer School the summer before and she had made quite an impression on me. Over the years I have learned a few songs from recordings of her singing and I would love to hear her sing today!

Click Roddy McCorley to hear me sing the song.

RODY McCORLEY

Ye tender hearted Christians, attention pay to me,
While I relate and communicate of a mournful tragedy .
Concerning of a clever youth who was cut down in his bloom,
And died upon the gallows tree near to the bridge of Toome.

This hero that I speak of was proper tall and straight,
Like to the lofty poplar tree his body was complete,
His growth was like the tufted fir that does ascend the air,
And waving o’er his shoulders broad the locks of yellow hair.

In sweet Duneane this youth was born and raised up tenderly,
His parents educated him, all by their industry,
Both day and night they sorely toiled all for their family,
Till desolation it came on by cruel perjury.

‘T was first the father’s life they took and secondly the son,
The mother tore her old grey locks, she said, I am undone
They took from me my family, my house and all my land,
And in the parish where I was born I dare not tread upon.

Farewell unto you sweet Drumaul, if in you I had stayed,
Among the Presbyterians I ne’er would have been betrayed,
The gallows tree I’d ne’er have seen had I remained there
For Dufferin you betrayed me, McErlean you set the snare.”

Soon young Roddy was conveyed to Ballymena town,
He was loaded there in irons strong, his bed was the cold ground,
And there young Roddy he must wait until the hour has come,
When a court-martial does arrive for to contrive his doom.

Young Roddy he came forward and the scaffold he ascend,
He looked east and looked west to view his gallant friends.
And turning round unto the north he cried “O cruel Sam,
‘T was you that proved my overthrow, to wrought me as I am.

In Ballyscullion I was betrayed, woe be unto the man,
Who swore me a defender and a traitor unto the crown,
Which caused Roddy for to lie beneath yon spreading thorn,
He’ll sigh and say ‘Alas the day that ever I was born’.

Friday was a funny old day: Thursday I spent at home, because Paul was quite sick and couldn’t take care of Tjabering. We both thought Friday would be better, so I could make up for Thursday, but alas. After I had worked from home for a bit I sort of walked around with ‘my soul under my arm’, as we would say, not knowing what to do next, nor feeling like doing anything.

When the girls had come home from school, the shopping had been done, it dawned on me: baking is what is needed! A quick fix! What quicker fix than muffins? Mmmm. In the freezer there were some sad looking forest fruits leftover from smoothie making, would it be enough for a set of muffins? Ay, indeed. With help from the girls dry ingredients were sift, wet ingredients mixed and generally a mess was made! After popping the tin in the oven, the girls were delegated upstairs, while I removed all the evidence from kitchen floor, work surface and back splash.

And after 25 minutes, aahh, quick fix or what? Sumptuous muffins with sweet berries and cherries. And oh, how disappointed I was to hear the girls didn’t like them. Now we had to eat them all by ourselves, such burden!

The first, or the second one, neither? Pfff, I can’t seem to find the right way to fill in the pattern for Kathrijn’s quilt. Over the last two weeks I have been sprawled on the living room floor with a big sheet of curtain lining and the cut diamond shapes. Moving them up, moving them down, moving them aaaaaall around. None of the outcomes gives me that tingly feeling. There is a certain something about them, but not enough! I’ll keep trying….

When we were enjoying our Indonesian meal with friends a while back, plans were already made for an early BBQ at their place the week after. Will we come? Well, twist our arms! Their garden has a conservatory, so if the weather was not going to be cooperative, we could always retire in warmth and dryness. On Monday morning I set about on a what-do-we-have-in-the-cupboard-that-would-combine-into-a-nice-desert-type-of-cake quest. Chocolate cake? Mmm, no. Banana bread? Mmm, no. Something with mango? Mmmm, yes. Perhaps some coconut? Yes! Flicking through my baking books I came across mango recipes which would involve trips to exotic supermarkets, which I had no inclination of doing, no matter how tempting banana, mango and passion-fruit cake sounded! At long last I found a simple fresh fruit cake recipe in Leiths baking Bible.

The recipe called for fresh fruit like apples, pears, plums, to be quartered and diced, and the batter to be spiced with cinnamon. The fruit was replaced by the mango and the cinnamon by dessicated coconut. The result was a nice coarse  cake (Euhm, what’t that, the batter ’s split? Nooooo, that’s how it suppose to look, ahum…) with juicy bits of mango. It was nearly all the children had to eat, they were to busy going on exploration!

We had a great afternoon in relative sunny surroundings (although we all had something coatish or sweaterish on us), good food, garden chat and amusement from the thee Eliasbergs, local circus!