You have the freedom to Dip Your Sponge!

I love books and reading....have I mentioned that?  Okay, but some books really make you think hard about the Dip Your Sponge philosophy.  One I've read recently is JoJo Moyes' 'ME BEFORE YOU'.  The basic premise is "What if your life changed drastically in an instant?  Would you be able to adapt and forge a new pathway or would you give up because you missed your old life so much?"  The book, which has a chick-lit cover that doesn't remotely do justice to the serious nature of the content, follows a young man who lives life at such a pace that he's never still - a high-flying career, a daredevil traveller and a lover of adventure sports - maybe he even overdid the Dip Your Sponge bit as he was never still, but that was his personality.  In the first chapter (so I'm not giving anything away) all this is taken away in one horrendous moment.  You come away from the book appreciating everything about your life, even the simple things like getting yourself food when you are hungry and having basic privacy and choice.

Another book that reminded me to Dip My Sponge as often as possible was a book we read with my wonderful online bookclub 'Every Book and Cranny' (http://www.my-bookclub.com/bookclub/every-book-and-cranny/), called 'DELIRIUM' by Lauren Oliver. This described a future United States with closed borders and a dictatorship where love and all it's accompaniments such as poetry and demonstrations of affection are banned, not just between lovers but friends, parents, siblings....anyone.  A cure has been found which involves an operation to remove the emotion centre of the brain.  This is performed at the age of 18. The sorrowful results are that parents no longer even love their children and a manual similar to Mao's Red Book uses classic stories and art and poetry as warning symptoms of the disease.  It is a very real and convincing portrait of an alternative world and the really scary thing is that our current day scientists have actually recently identified the part of the brain that processes emotions so its not such a stretch of the imagination to leap to some dictator having all their subjects robotised.

So let's revel in our freedom and make the most of the fact that we are allowed to celebrate art and literature and to hug and write and sing and dance just as we wish.

Barefoot and Barefaced!

A Turkish gulet cruise looks and sounds luxurious and exotic but the reality and practicalities don't occur to you until you get on board.  Then it becomes a bit like camping.  The main thing is that you need to go with someone you know really well and feel very relaxed with, especially if you are sharing a cabin. Luckily I was with my good friend of over 20 years; Sheila. We went through having babies together then and so there isn't much that has fazed us since.

The cabins, like those on most boats, are tiny and in our case the bathroom door didn't shut properly but we soon learnt to take it in turns to be below deck when feasible and to be as discreet as possible for the rest of the time.

My next issue was with going barefoot.  I've never liked it, and even at home, on a beach or by a pool, I wear flip-flops.  They were banned though on the gulet, along with all shoes, which had to be placed in a chest by the gangplank on embarking.  I presume it was to save the old wooden deck from wear and tear. Yet I was surprised at how quickly I got used to being shoeless and how much stronger my feet became, even in a week.

Then there was make-up.  The cabin was rocking and so dark (these boats are 200 years old remember) that it would have been hit and miss to apply but the fierce Turkish sun would have just melted it down our faces anyway.  So after day one our make-up bags stayed firmly zipped.  We only had tiny mirrors and couldn't see what we really looked like anyway.

At first we ventured on deck shyly in swimming costumes and wraps because we are not the spring chickens we once were, but nobody cared.  All ages from 30 to 80 were relaxing and swimming, sunbathing and walking around the boat in skimpy swimwear and it didn't matter a bit.

It was all incredibly liberating this not bothering what we looked like.  We'd wake up and jump in the warm, salty sea and stay like that all day.  Even at night after a shower there was no hair-dryer or straighteners and insect repellent was our perfume of choice so make-up seemed superfluous.  The freedom from thinking what we looked like was akin to being children again and all we had to do was swim and play and read and sleep....oh and eat the delicious food served up three times a day.  We reconnected not only with our inner-child but our outer one too.

Warning:   Its a good job it was only a week!   When I got back and looked in the mirror I was extremely ravished and spotty looking and I had to set to work pronto with conditioners and creams for immediate repair work.

But I still don't like putting my shoes on and I do have a lovely tan.

The beauty of a pot of basil

I think I'm addicted to basil.  I keep this gorgeous smelling herb on my kitchen windowsill and can't resist pulling off a leaf to chew on as I pass.  I throw it in salads as a tasty leaf and in all my stews and pasta dishes and of course you can't eat Mozzarella without it.

Herbs are such an easy way to flavour up your cooking and so easy to keep (trust me, they are the only plants I can keep) and they can be picked up very cheaply from so many places.  My latest addition is mint. After a week of eating Turkish cuisine where it is thrown in with everything, especially vegetables, and goes so well with all the yoghurt and cucumber dressings, it has risen up my list of favourites...I've even made mint tea with a sprig dipped in a cup of boiling water.

My other chosen ones are lemon thyme which smells of hot holidays in the Mediterranean and is fabulous in all my chicken dishes; rosemary which roasts beautifully on vegetables and potatoes and oregano which invokes my local Italian restaurant and so always gets put with pasta, especially bolognaise. Parsley we all know goes with fish but did you know that chewing a head or two gets rid of the smell of garlic on the breath? Talking of garlic, there is a variety you can grow called Society Garlic (Tulbaghia) which has pretty purple flowers and doesn't make your breath smell at all (hence the name). I love Thai food so would like to try and grow kaffir lime leaves next or maybe cardamom as both of these leaves work well in curry.

Herbs even have excellent health benefits.  They work as detoxifyers, stimulants and antiseptics and have been used for weight loss and skin conditions as well as cures for infections and viruses, especially colds.

So grow some herbs...not only will it save some money on all those dusty dried spice jars and give you something pretty and fragrant to scent your home but it will  remind you of summer sunshine on even the rainiest day.    

Dip your sponge in Nostalgia!

I first heard the words 'dip your sponge' thirty years ago when I met my husband Dave.  He can't remember where it came from but 'you've got to dip your sponge' became a regular family saying. Sponge dipping is a rule in our house and at least one day each weekend is devoted to it in some way. Maybe its just a walk or a visit to a bookshop, the cinema or Sunday Lunch at a new pub, but often its a day-trip to an unfamiliar town or county or to an event or festival of some kind.  One of Dave's favourites is a gathering of the old steam trains.  He loves the sight, sound and smell of them and I have to admit there is a romance in travelling in the old-fashioned way - nice and slowly to appreciate the countryside, in comfortable seats with thick oak panelling to run your hands over and imagine all those travellers who made journeys at that same table before you.

Last weekend we visited a quaint village called Grosmont in North Yorkshire. A tiny place dominated by the prettiest station I have ever seen, but with everything you need for a good day out including the sunshine. After I had watched the third steam train pull in and out, I left Dave to it and went for a wander down the narrow street.  I found a crooked-floored bookshop crammed to the rafters with heaps and heaps of second-hand books all costing not much more than a pound.

Books are my oldest passion.  I learnt to read really early and had piles of them by my bed from the age of five.  They are my escape, my teachers, my entertainment, my travel companions and a lot more besides.  A couple of hours later I emerged with an armful and settled in the sun to read them while Dave went to investigate the price of train tickets.  Every now and then a whistle would blow and a cloud of smoke billowed across me as I broke off to tune into the chuff-chuff of a departing train.  All the children waved madly from the windows and the families still on the platform noisily broke out their picnics or headed to the tea-rooms or pub gardens.  It it seemed to me like an advertisement for an idyllic traditional English day...but maybe one from about fifty years ago.