Great marinade for steak - plus chilli onion rings

Staying in with kids means that most weekends one of us will cook something different.

The OH always heads for Levi Roots or African cookbooks. Last night he found a simple, but bloody lovely, steak marinade. So good I thought I’d post it.

This is based on 2 people, so just adjust to what you need.

2 x steaks of your choice (we had sirloin, the recipe suggests rump)

For the marinade:

1 tbsp. medium curry powder

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp grated fresh ginger

2 tbsp soy sauce

Mix together and marinade the steaks for 1 hour. Take them out and cook to your taste. Keep the marinade to use as a dip for your onion rings. (heat on high it for 1 minute in a pan or microwave before serving)

Chilli onion rings

We just added chilli powder, ground cumin, finely chopped fresh green chilli to a thick batter. (batter made with plain flour, water, salt)

One large white onion made enough for 2 adults, with leftovers for the kids.

Slice the onion into rings, dip into the batter and fry in hot oil (deep fat fryer or deep frying pan) 'til golden brown.

Serve

Recipe adjusted from one in Tastes of Africa

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Tastes-Africa-Justice-Kamanga/dp/1770078029

The heartbreak and the joy of SATC

*girly post alert*                     *girly post alert*                        *girly post alert*

I was always an Aidan kind of girl. Big does nothing for me. I love Carrie the most when she's with Aidan.

The best thing about a night in alone is being able to watch old DVDs of Sex and the City. For the last few weeks I've been back onto SATC, my faithful companion for roughly the last 13 years. It began during one of the best times in my life, when I spent my whole time with a small group of very close friends. Whenever I watch it, it takes me back there.

No matter how old I get, I still love Season 4 the most. Mainly because it's the second time Carrie breaks Aidan's heart and it's the most painful.

Because with pain comes joy. To suffer pain you need to have had some joy first, Aidan and Carrie joy. And I always love an unhappy ending.

This clip kills me every time. Watch it and see for yourself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5LP85uElbw&feature=related

Who the hell is Ryan Giggs?

These days people make so much fuss about Giggsy, yet it wasn't always like that.  Not for the first 10 years at least.

Whilst he was liked in those early days, he certainly wasn't hero worshipped from the outset. Not by the fans nor the media.

He was fast but still lacked vision, light on his feet but easy to knock over. And he was annoyingly prone to injury. He rarely played for Wales - in fact he was largely disliked in Wales because SAF usually withdrew him (injured....again).




He wasn't even the female fans choice, not with Lee Sharpe on the scene.

He's always seemed to be in someone else's shadow.  Beckham took better corners, Kanchelskis was faster, Ronaldo had quicker feet, Scholes was smarter.

But whilst they all took the credit, Ryan was quietly working away in the background, pulling out those moments of brilliance to remind us he was there.

My two personal favourites are two of the biggest of his career. The 97/98 winner against Juventus at home in the Champions League and that unbelievable FA Cup replay goal against Arsenal in 99.

I was there for both.

So with 900 Utd games under his belt, these days he's lauded for playing so brilliantly at 38, something he puts down to yoga. He's rarely injured, he can actually cross the ball and he finally gave Wales a good run, being part of the team that almost made it.

We all have a footballing hero and mine will always be Bryan Robson. But in the early 90s as his career began to fade, the welsh wizard had already began to make his mark on the pitch (and on my player cam!)
He tracks back, he works hard, he quietly inspires all around him.  He could have played for England but he chose to play for Wales.

He should have played for Brazil.

The day that changed my life - guest post

I am honoured to publish a guest blog from a friend with an inspiring story to tell. Please take time to read it all. You can follow Rich on twitter @biddyrich

Wednesday 19^th April 2000 was the day that changed my life – it was the day

that my mischievous, troublesome 16 year old brother had an accident at college, leaving him paralysed from the neck down and confined to a wheelchair. I remember it as if it were yesterday.

I remember receiving the phone call at work and I rushed to the hospital in a blur, I don’t remember much of the journey in. I had no change for parking and couldn’t contact my mum and dad.

When I arrived at A & E the nurses told me not to panic but he would be arriving by air ambulance. Of course, the moment I heard that, my heart started beating really fast and I started to panic! I wanted my mum to be there but she was stuck at work. I was alone, scared and wondering what the hell I was going to say to him when I saw him.

Seeing the helicopter land, I raced over to him and asked him if he was alright. I can’t repeat his answer, but for those who know my brother I can tell you it contained a few swear words.



Steve and Rich



The seriousness of the accident dawned on me when the doctors were pinching his hands and feet asking if he could feel anything. When he replied ‘no’ I knew it was bad news.

Steve was transferred to the Heath Hospital in Cardiff for further tests and we went to Cardiff that evening to be told the horrible news that Steve had a spinal injury and it was almost certain that he would never walk again. I don’t remember how I felt at that particular moment, but I do remember crying when we got home. A lot. I can’t imagine what must have been going through his mind.

He was very down and depressed for the first few years after the accident, and this is where the Spinal Injuries Association proved invaluable to us. They are the leading national charity for spinal cord injured people and they helped Steve, myself and my parents come to terms with his injuries and how to deal with our changed lives.

When he first had the accident, Steve suffered from pressure sores because he was in bed all the time and some were so bad that he had to have a skin graft.

With Steve in a specialist spinal injuries unit at Rookwood Hospital, Cardiff for the next 13 months, we spent every evening travelling to Cardiff to see him. I was 19 and studying for my accountancy exams as well as holding down a full time job. It was tiring and hard work, but I had to do it, for him.

During his stay in hospital he had a number of problems including a Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) and had to be transferred back to another hospital for treatment.

When he came home for good, first on weekend visits, I used to sleep on the sofa downstairs with him. My mum worked in a care home and taught me how to turn him at night time to stop him getting pressure sores. Now I do this without thinking and it is part of everyday life.

Steve managed to get the movement in his left arm while he was in hospital – which has proven to be a real lifeline for him now. He can operate a computer and he has enough movement to steer his motorised wheelchair – giving him some of his independence back. This was a major achievement.

After he came home for good, the trips to hospital weren’t over. A few years after his accident he was very thin and prone to pneumonia. He underwent surgery after suffering a collapsed lung for the third time and spent some time in intensive care after the operation. It was terrifying and a few times we thought the worst.

But if there’s one thing Steve is, he’s stubborn and he’s a fighter. He wasn’t going anywhere.

He came out of hospital and put all of his time into studying at college – he did a business studies course and an AAT accountancy course. My parents and Steve moved to a different house and I think this set him on the road to recovery.

I have nothing but admiration for my parents. They hold down full time jobs as carers in homes and being caring is in their nature. They are on full time caring duty at home looking after Steve and do pretty much everything for him – all unpaid. They never moan about it and I understand this more now I have my own child, they don’t do it because they have to, but because he is their child.



Steve with his biggest fan



Life got better. Steve became his own boss and now employs his own carers to look after him while mum and dad are at work.

He was best man at my wedding – and no better man for the job in mine and my wife’s opinion. He is a fantastic brother and brother in law and is an even better Uncle to our three year old daughter, Ella.

She thinks the world of Steve, and the feeling is most definitely mutual. She doesn’t treat him any differently, climbs all over his wheelchair and they are always up to trouble together.

My relationship with Steve is stronger now than it’s ever been. We are typical brothers, we always wind each other up but I am still very protective over him which is why I take my responsibility of caring for him so seriously. He needs me and I will always be there for him any time of day or night.

He is my best friend.

If there’s one thing I would like my daughter to remember when she is older is not to treat people with disabilities differently; she doesn’t now and I hope she won’t in the future.  I see lots of kids staring at Steve when we’re out but they don’t know him. To me, he’s just the same as he was before his accident, maybe not physically but certainly personality wise. I guess some people are scared by people in wheelchairs but I am glad that Ella isn’t. She loves him for who he is and I have no doubt that will continue.

My wife says that Ella asks her other Nan why Uncle Stevie is in a wheelchair, I know there’s going to be a time when I have to sit down and go through the detail with her, but I think the answer of ‘Uncle Stevie had an accident and his legs don’t work’ is fine for the time being.

This year I am going to do something I’ve never done before - I am in training for the biggest challenge of my life. In June this year, I will take part in a 300 mile cycling challenge, from London to Paris in four days.

Do you think I’m crazy? My wife does, and if I’m honest, I think I am too! But I’ve got the cycling bug and I’ve been inspired by my little brother to raise money for a great charity – the Spinal Injuries Association (SIA).  I wanted to share my reasoning’s with you if you don’t think I’m crazy after reading it, I’m hoping that you might be tempted to dig deep and sponsor me.

Steve was so supportive of me when I told him what I was planning and I hope it shows him how much I care about him.

You can sponsor me at: www.justgiving.com/biddy-sia.

Me right now - The Gallery

This is me, right now (11pm, Tues 31 Jan 2012)

Well it's a little bit of me (the bright white patch in the bottom right corner).

Tara Cain wants to know what we're doing right now, as we read this week's Gallery topic on the Sticky Fingers blog. It's 11pm, I'm sitting at the computer and a strange hooded man sleeps behind me.

Match of the Day is on. He turns it on, then falls asleep. I'm supposed to be working, but now I'm the one watching Match of the Day.

Me. Right. Now.       Life on the edge.

(can't go outside cos there's a big cat stalking us)

A Mother first

“When a woman has a baby, she is a Mother first and a wife second. A man will always be a husband first and a father second.”

Discuss

Oprah Winfrey said this about 18 years ago. Despite my status as a fully-paid up, grant maintained (those were the days) layabout student, it stuck with me. Filed away for future use to put to the test in my mid-thirties.

What she was talking about was how women’s priorities change when they have a baby and more importantly how the men in their lives react. Some feel total rejection, some view it as everything they’ve ever wished for.

My own experience has proved this theory right. My children are my number 1 priority, whether I like it or not. This has nothing to do with being an earth mother; I am not a stay-at-home Mum, doing craft, teaching foraging skills and making play clothes from curtains. But I have bumped my husband down the pecking order to sit proudly at number 3. He gets fed last these days.

But what about him? Does he put me or the kids first? It’s a tough one, he idolises the children, but it seems to me that he also knows I’m the one he needs to keep sweet. Because he loves those kids so much, it makes sense to keep their mother happy.

And I think that’s what Oprah meant when she said a man will always be a husband first. It’s not that he loves me more than his children, it’s more that he values my role in being their mother SO much, that he will put me first. Well that’s my theory anyway.

That particular episode of Oprah dealt with the men who felt rejected. They’d been number one in her life until that baby was born.  I’ve seen this happen and it’s a shock, who knew a baby could have such an impact on the male ego?  I think even the strongest man must feel a twinge of envy, or longing for their old life together, when they see the way a mother looks at her child.

And sometimes us women don’t help. A letter in this Saturday’s Times magazine talks about ‘martyr mothers’, it says:

“if you ask them how they are, they recount an exhausting list of after-school activities, domestic chores, play dates and doctor’s appointments…..their personal identity sucked into some horrible child-centric vortex”

Recognise yourself in there? I do *cringes and takes another gulp of wine* This particular man said he just didn’t find his wife attractive anymore and couldn’t view her as a ‘sexual being’. This is serious stuff. How do you get down and dirty with the woman who is also the mother of your child?

So for all our complaints as women (and mother martyrs in particular) I think we need to spare a thought for the men. Just a thought mind, don’t dwell too much on it.

If you are a husband and father reading this, no matter how bad you are feeling about being pushed down the pecking order, you’re still not at the bottom. There are four people in my family and when it comes to priorities, who sits at number 4?

You guessed it. I always get the burnt toast.

Who needs happy endings?

I don’t like happy endings.

I’m talking about books, films and songs here, not real life. When it comes to stories I like unrequited love, tortured souls and as much emotional trauma as I can stomach. Not in an unpleasant way, in a good happy way, but where things are left incomplete. I like a film or a book or even a song, to tear me apart. 

Wuthering Heights - bad love in bad weather



I love the idea that people fall in love and get torn apart, left wondering for the rest of their lives if they’ve let go of ‘the one’. Even better if the weather is bad (can’t beat a bit of rain and wind) I’m permanently living in a Bronte novel.

I was reminded of this because I’m watching Pearl Jam on BBC4. I have a huge crush on Eddie Vedder and always have. His voice says it all, always sounds like he’s been through a lot of pain and that there is so much intensity in his life. I could listen to his voice all day, while it’s raining outside. Or outside in the wind and rain, walking on top of a hill.

In honour of Eddie, his voice and the images of bad weather hearing it conjures up... have a listen. Any excuse to hear a bit of Eddie late on a Friday night.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWAh5zUDiBs&feature=related

Oh and maybe this one too!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1wQ8cOJbtY

The Gallery - Inspirational People

A tough subject this week on The Gallery from the inspiring (see what I did there?) Sticky Fingers blog……it’s Inspirational People.

It’s tough because I’ve already written about Nanna Peg, already told you about my very strong and slightly mad Big Sister and her beautiful and brave son. My mad welsh family with their positive outlook and crazy happy zest for life, could inspire anyone. My husband, kids, his family.....the list is endless.

Meningitis Trust Staff

I’ve worked in some great places and none more inspiring than the Meningitis Trust, a charity led by one of the most inspiring women I have ever met. In just 4 years there I met the most incredible characters. People who’ve been through the horror of meningitis. Some survived, some suffered huge loss, but all amazing.

But wherever I work, wherever I live, whoever is in my life at any given time, there is a group of people who never fail to inspire me. They are always on my mind and I miss being with them, every single day. It’s a strange collective, made up of school, sixth form and university friends, but now all bound together in one hilarious, beautiful, amazing, loving group. Some are mums, some career women, some both. Some are creative, some are tough, some sporty, some great at fashion. All are very good at bossing me around – and I love it.

Inspirational People - My very best friends

There are many inspirational people you will meet in life. But the ones who inspire me most are the ones who know me the best. I look at the way they live their lives, the different opportunities and challenges they’ve all faced and I’m inspired. Just an emali, phonecall or skype chat with any one of them, brings a huge fat smile to my face and makes me feel like I can achieve anything.

My best friends. Inspirational People.

He wasn’t on my list

Single ladies, do you have a mental check list?

I’ve just marked the 11^th anniversary of my first date with my husband and started thinking about when I was single. Then I remembered my checklist.

I used to have a mental checklist for Mr Right. Not mental as in mad, although I think I was slightly mad. Mental as in I knew it well, but never wrote it down. I kept it to myself, hidden away in my brain, to be used against every man I met.

After splitting from my first long-term boyfriend, I went through that awful phase where every male friend is a potential date. Surely we’ve all done it? You get on with someone really well and you’re so desperate to live happily ever after that you start convincing yourself they’re the perfect man.

I did this with a few people, much to the amusement of my friends, as I dated a random collection of oddballs either cos they knew someone I knew, or worse still, because I liked their family. I blame my sister and loved-up friends for most of this phase as they were usually the ‘ugly friend’ on the double date – yep we’ve all been left with one of those. Well I’d not only be left with them, but I’d convince myself to date them again SOBER and find myself having afternoon tea with the whole family before I knew it.

So after some failed and pretty horrific dates  I came up with my mental checklist and started sifting.

The list was made up of qualities that were really important to my 20 something self and my circle of friends. How he should look, what he’d wear, what he’d listen to, his family, his friends, the sports he’d play, the teams he’d support, the kind of night out he liked. It was all about fitting in.

Then I met my future husband. He didn’t meet the requirements but I couldn't resist him. He wasn’t a checklist match but I didn’t care..........checklist? what checklist?

I didn’t care what anyone else thought. And that’s when you know you’re really in love.

My advice would be, dump the mental checklist. It’s either based on what your friends would find acceptable or like mine, was simply based on the last man who made you happy. We’re worth more than that.

 

Remembering Me

I’ve forgotten who I am.

Has this happened to you? You won’t know you’ve forgotten until you remember. It’s a strange feeling, a bit like deja vu, a moment of weirdness but also huge joy. It brought a smile to my face.

I was sitting alone on the top of a hill looking across to the River Severn after a brief, but brisk, hike when it all came back to me. I could picture the twenty-something woman, walking for miles to get away from the city smoke and clear the hangover. With a good-looking man in tow and a bottle of wine warming in the ruck sack.

For a few minutes I sat there and felt happy as I remembered the forgotten me. A different kind of happy to how I feel most of the time, but happy all the same. So I texted my husband with a picture of view and the words ‘I love you’ – something I never text. He texted the same thing back (which was more of a shock), I think he understood the moment.

Like many women (maybe even some men) I’ve given myself away. To my husband, my work, my friends even, but mostly to my kids. So much so that I don’t even remember what I like. I’m a stranger to myself and I can only remember the me who exists to exist for others.

But I found it on that hill for a very brief moment and it felt really good. I'm going looking for me again soon.

As I write this, a group of my oldest friends are out reliving their Hacienda youth in a nightclub somewhere. I hope they get this feeling tonight and I think they will. I wish I could be there.

What i'm trying to say is, if you think you’ve lost you, don’t worry because you're still there somewhere. You may be cowering timidly at the back of the room, too afraid to come out, but you will. And when it happens it'll feel really good :)

The Gallery - A Happy Memory

I'm late entering my post into this week's Gallery on the Sticky Fingers blog because I couldn't find the picture I wanted. Anyway, I found it in the loft, in a frame with lots of other pictures and I couldn't take it out (for fear of disturbing the 'arrangement'). So I took a bad photo of it, but you get the idea.

This is not only one of my favourite photos, but a really lovely memory. It makes me remember how much fun I have when I travel with my husband. When this was taken we weren't married and we were starting to fall in love with Spain all over again. This is nowhere unusual or glamourous, it's the Alhambra in Granada.

I took this photo as we were relaxing on one of the patios, basking in the sun after too much wine at lunch. We sat there and began to fall asleep.

I am a bit of a fake when it comes to romantic pictures. I have many 'captured' moments like these, but they are always taken by me (using timer delay) and most of the time I've planned them earlier. Don't tell me I'm the only person who does that??

I didn't plan this one in advance, but saw it in my mind as we sat there. So ran and set my camera up and ran back and struck my pose. And I love it.

Five minutes later we got told off by a security man for sleeping on the floor.We were embarrassingly ushered out of the area and asked to move on. Oh well. Memory made and kept.

The pic now sits in a frame with others from the same trip, when all we could afford were clip frames 'cos we spent all our money on holidays. Now they just look tacky, but I'm keeping them as they are. These kind of memories are the best.

The make or break holiday

You've been going through a rough patch and things don't seem to be getting any better, or any worse for that matter. Your relationship is lurching from one crisis to another and you exist in two mental states;

1. this is worth saving, I'm going to make an effort and work at it
2. the effort is exhausting, let's carry on as we are and pretend the problems don't exist

There could be a number 3 here – which is “right, I'm making a decision, I'm *staying/*leaving” (*delete as applicable). Only option 3 doesn't belong in this post, because if you were able to make a decision, you wouldn't be in a make or break situation. Do you follow me?

So you decide to get away from it all, go on holiday, find out if you're meant to be together. Cue Jordan and Alex lording it up in 5* celebrity luxury, eating aphrodisiacs before jumping into their super-king sized bed with turquoise sea views.

NO! I say, that won't work, it's a fake environment, with all that alcohol, treatments and stunning vistas, you're bound to decide to give it another go. What you really need to do is go camping.

You see, I've just been camping. In the UK. With my husband. And my two children under 5. With no electricity. In bad weather.

In other words, I've just had the ultimate test of my relationship. No sleep, grumpy children, shit food and a permanent chill in your bones. Oh and sour milk in the morning (I forgot the cool bag). What I realised was, that if I was ever to find myself in a make or break situation, then a romantic getaway wouldn't be a true test of my marriage. But a camping holiday would.

We faced the ultimate tests. Packing for what me and the kids need, versus what will fit in his car. Putting up a tent in high winds, with bent poles, no instructions and lots of blame. Allocating the beds, deciding who sleeps with which child and who gets the duvet. Preparing gourmet food on a 1970's gas stove, with one pan and a plastic spoon. Being trapped together, in a confined space, because the kids wont sleep til it's dark, the rain won't stop and it's the UK, so everything shut at five.

We faced it and we survived. We had our moments, but now we're home and we're laughing about it already. We might even do it again. So next time you see a celeb couple on holiday because their marriage is on the rocks, shout at the TV as I do, and say 'you should have gone bloody camping'.