Potatomania

Last year our friend Sue was obsessed with potatoes. She planted 40 varieties, which she documented to discover which type gave the best yield and which were best for which purposes. After Farmdoc's surgery she gave us a gift of around a dozen varieties with instructions that we were to note how each type did. We planted them as instructed but we haven't dug any up yet, so we haven't had to formally present our report.

This year she had recovered from her obsession: she planted only 35 varieties!

Sue is an adventurous cook so when she and Craig invited us for lunch at their house on the side of a mountain we expected to eat potatoes.

And we were not disappointed.

There was chicken and salad, but they took a back seat to  a potato feast, which included Spanish omelette made with King Edwards, smashed Nicolas,

 Boiled Salad Rose and Pink Eye:

 Baked Toolangi Delight:

And wedges of Spunta and Up to Date :

The piece de resistance, however, had to be the dessert. Mashed Kestrel mixed with blueberries and dipped in dark chocolate together with mashed Saphire mixed with coconut and vanilla and dipped in white chocolate!

How about you? What type of spud do you like best? And what's your favourite method of cooking them?

Late last year Sue planted 40 types of tomatoes. It's a bit early to see the results of that experiment but right now there is lush growth in the sprawling vegetable garden beds that Craig dug and fenced. We're looking forward to a tomato feast now.

Ten, Nine, Eight...

How quickly this week has sped by compared with how slowly time passed while I was counting down the hours until my launch with equal amounts of excitement and nervousness. Would anyone come? Would too many people come? If they came would they think it had been worthwhile to trek across town in peak hour traffic in all that heat? What part of the book should I read? What sort of speech should I give?

At first I was determined not to cry and not to upset my dad. But that made it impossible to find an extract to read, and everything I thought of to say sounded superficial.

Nicola introduces the evening.

And then, a few days before the launch, the words of that song, 'It's my party' began to play in my head. It's so weird how that happens, that you realise you've been humming a song that is absolutely appropriate to whatever you've been thinking about, as though a DJ in your head is rummaging through all your old records for a soundtrack.

'It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. You would cry too if it happened to you.' And it was true. What had happened to my family was sad. And you would cry too if it happened to you. I decided that if I cried, I cried. That left me free to say whatever I wanted to.

My speech

Lucky I'd made that decision, because I was crying before I even began to speak. I hadn't counted on being so moved by the words spoken by Nicola my editor, who emceed the proceedings and Clare who launched the book so beautifully.

Me, Clare, Emma and Nicola.

What touched me most? That Emma had arranged everything so perfectly, and even offered to pick me up. That so many people made such an effort to come and then said such lovely things. Some people had read the book already and wanted to tell me how much it had touched them. Others bought several copies, confident that they'd love it. Friends, relations, fellow writers, acquaintances I haven't seen in years - Readings was crowded.

I felt overwhelmed by gratitude. My daughter K had baked delicious chocolate chip cookies; my daughter M brought me fresh herbs and vegetables from her garden; my daughter E gave me wonderful advice, her skirt to wear, a card that made me cry, and a keepcup for when she buys me takeaway coffee on the weekend; and my daughter A rang, texted and emailed from San Francisco where she lives.

The author signs copies.

Readings sold out of books and all the cookies went. All in all a very successful evening.

Book Launch

This evening's the launch of Alzheimer's: a love story, the story of my parents and the love they shared, love that did not end with the onset of my mother's Alzheimer's Disease.

Speech written. Check.
Extract to read chosen. Check.
Outfit laid out ready to wear. Check.
Hair washed. Checked.
Cookies baked. Check.
Sweets bought. Check.
Farmdoc here. Check.

All systems go.

I'm feeling excited and a little nervous. I'm sure I'll be overwhelmed once I'm there, surrounded by friends, family, well wishers and members of my wonderful writing community. But I hope I can enjoy it too.

My mother would have been so proud and happy for me. 'You look beautiful,' she'd have whispered to me when she saw me. It wouldn't even have been the words so much as the tone and the look on her face.

I hope the evening's not too difficult for my father without his beloved tucked in close to him. But I'm proud of my book and I know he is too. And I'm moved by the support everyone has given me.

People With Glasshouses

Farmdoc and I have been talking about getting a hothouse since we first moved to Mole Creek, nearly seven years ago. We have such a short summer growing season here, with frosts well into November, that by the time our vegetables get going it's autumn again and they are running a race against winter.

When we first laid out the vegetable garden we even left a hothouse-sized space.

For all these years Farmdoc has been researching makes and models and we've made trips to a number of outlets to examine various options but somehow we never seemed to get around to buying one. Then our friend Dorothy, who is moving from the area, said she would sell us hers. So this morning John and Dorothy arrived with the hothouse in tow.

It took a bit of work to hoist it over the vegetable garden fence and into position.

And then it had to be concreted in.

Finally it was in place and set up ready to receive the seeds of our summer salads.

I don't think it'll take us as long to fill as it did to buy it. Right now we're making lists of vegetables and herbs that will benefit from a head start.