RECIPE: Grandma L's ginger cake

I'm really lucky to have reached the age of 30 and still have two grandmas living, but sadly my Grandma L - my mum's mum - now has advanced Alzheimer's and lives in a care home.

Before Alzheimer's struck my Grandma L was a generous, caring lady who would do anything for her family. She was a prolific baker and I grew up enjoying her cakes and scones. When I was about 11-years-old I decided to write some of her recipes into a book. I can remember it being a frustrating experience trying to get my subject to describe her cooking methods - my grandma was very much a "bit of this" and "dash of that" kind of a girl so she repeatedly looked at me blankly when I asked for weights and measures. 

Nevertheless, a cook book was produced and I've still got the  'first edition' copy today (sadly not signed by the chef who inspired it!), for which I'm hugely thankful because it means her recipes have not been lost with her memory. Below is the recipe for her ginger cake, which was a family favourite, and I'll put some more on this blog throughout the year. 

The original cook book in my 11-year-old handwriting, complete with spelling mistakes!

GRANDMA L'S GINGER CAKE

INGREDIENTS:
2 heaped cups of self raising flour
1 cup of sugar (grandma didn't specify what type so I've used soft brown)
2 tsp of ground ginger
1 flat tsp of bicarb of soda
4oz margarine or butter cut into small pieces
1 cup of boiling water
1 egg
2 tbsps golden syrup
Plus one square baking tin


METHOD: (Transcribed exactly)
"Put flour into basin. Add sugar, ginger and bicarb of soda. Mix together then make a hole in the centre of the mixture. Put marge and syrup into the hole. Add cup of boiling water into the centre and crack the egg into the middle without breaking the yolk. Mix everything together from both hole and mixture with a spoon and pour into greased tin. Bake on gas 4 for 20 minutes.

"Test with a knitting needle - stick it into the cake. If it comes out with half the cake stuck to it then it's not quite done."

DISCLAIMER: (From me, now!) 
A knife works as well as a knitting needle and is probably cleaner! We have a fan-assisted oven so I tried the cake at 180C for 20 minutes and it was still raw inside. Definitely not quite done! I ended up cooking it for about 40 minutes.

....and after

Mixture before mixing....

The finished cake is lovely and moist

Tastes fab with ice cream!

My veggie views

Although not strictly on the topic of avoiding supermarkets, I think it might be time I explained my vegetarian standpoint. I've written several posts on this blog so far supporting local butchers and livestock farmers, and I intend to write more. This has provoked some readers to ask how this sits alongside my own meat-free diet.


Proof veggies and meat-eaters can be friends!

I became a vegetarian when I was 13-years-old, after lobbying my parents for years to be allowed to do so. I've always been a massive animal lover and I think I was inclined towards vegetarianism long before I was fully aware of the health and environmental benefits. I'd never been a big fan of meat and was primarily concerned with animal welfare. Plus as a child and teenager I wasn't able to make any decisions on where my meat came from.

These days I do have to power to make my own decisions as a consumer, but meat will never be back on the menu for me. The idea of it turns my stomach and quite frankly I can't understand the appeal at all. Meat eating friends tell me it tastes fantastic - but so does my own diet so I don't feel I'm missing out. 

And of course now I'm aware of the health and environmental benefits too. I believe that a meat-free diet lowers the risk of certain illnesses like some cancers and heart disease. I also believe that the processes involved in the production of vegetables and grains are much less taxing for the planet than rearing animals - in terms of the use of energy, water, land and other resources, and the creation of waste. Put very very simply, it's better to grow a field of grain to feed humans than to grow a field of grain to feed animals that are then used to feed humans.

However, while I think that in the long term a vegetarian society would be better for the planet, animals and human health, in the short term it would completely destabilise agriculture in the UK, potentially resulting in job losses, damage to the countryside and huge animal welfare issues.

Instead I think a good starting point would be simply to get people to evaluate the meat that they eat. If more people could embrace some meat-free meals and cut their meat intake it would benefit their health and the environment, and they would then be able to afford to make more ethical choices, spending a bit more money on the meat they buy, supporting farm shops and butchers, free-range and organic producers, which in turn would have a really positive impact on animal welfare and the lives of farmers.

I'm well aware that this stance might be viewed as too moderate by some die-hard vegetarians. But sometimes the way to make small, positive changes is to try to see more than one point of view, rather than jumping onto your soap box which tends to make a lot of people just tune out. Giving people ammunition to pigeonhole you as a "crazy veggie" just gives them an excuse not to listen.

In my household, my partner eats meat. But he doesn't eat a lot of it and he cooks wonderful vegetarian food that we both enjoy. I don't question his right to enjoy a steak when he chooses, and in return this puts me in a stronger position to ensure that the meat that comes into our house is of the more ethical variety. Even before we started this challenge we never bought the supermarkets' cheapest meat - we always went paid a bit more for organic, free-range and British.

We're a long way away from a perfect world, but in the meantime I feel the best way forward is to support the farmers, shops and suppliers who are putting animal welfare and health at the heart of what they do, while at the same time advocating a shift towards a more omnivorous diet where meat doesn't have to factor into every meal by showcasing some of the wonderful vegetarian choices available.

And to bring this back to the topic of this blog, which is of course avoiding supermarkets, I feel that local shops and butchers to a much better job of telling customers where their meat comes from - and where their fruit and veg is sourced, for that matter - which helps shoppers make much more informed decisions about what they're chosing to spend their money on and put into their bodies.

Forget the Easter Bunny...

Not-Roger's eggs - and yes I've already eaten one!

When it comes to folklore figures leaving little surprises you can forget Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. In my house we get visits from Not-Roger The Egg Man.

Like Santa, Not-Roger comes at a regular time. In Santa’s case it’s Christmas Eve and in Not-Roger’s case it’s Thursday evenings.

Like Santa, we leave a little offering out when we know he’s coming. In Santa’s case it’s a mince pie and carrot for Rudolph, and in Not-Roger’s case it’s £1.25 and an empty egg box.




We always get something in return. In Santa’s case, a bite is taken from the mince pie and presents are left under the tree. In Not-Roger’s case the money is spirited away and a box of fresh free-range eggs is left on our doorstep.

And like Santa, we have never actually met Not-Roger. With the first, we strain to catch the faint jingling of bells or a festive "ho ho ho", and with the second we might hear the sound of footsteps or an engine starting in the road outside.

This arrangement is, admittedly, a little bit odd. And made odder still by the fact that we don’t even know the egg man’s name. Hence Not-Roger, because we know he’s definitely not called Roger.

It came about when we first moved into our house a year ago and met our neighbours, who were keen to tell us about a local farmer who delivered free range eggs to the neighbourhood. They gave us a flier, which we promptly lost (hey - we’d just moved house!), but not before noting down the mobile phone number.

Like children writing to Father Christmas we sent a text to the farmer asking if we could please have some eggs (we’ve been very good this year). And we opened the message with a cheery "hi Roger" because we thought that was the name on the flier.

On Thursday night the eggs magically appeared, and these were good eggs – huge with bright orange yolks. They tasted amazing.

Then on Friday our neighbour popped round to say she’d had a worried call from the egg man, who had been confused by the random request from strangers addressing him as Roger (which was, in fact, not his name).

She explained to him that we’d just moved in and she told us his name. Which, of course, we promptly forgot.

Again.

So now we’ve settled into this routine – every Wednesday we send Not-Roger a text (being careful to open it simply with "hi" rather than using a name) telling him whether we’d like six or twelve eggs.

At £1.25 for half a dozen and £2.50 for a dozen they leave egg on the face of all the major supermarkets.And on Thursday night they magically appear on the doorstep.

Whether you like them boiled or fried, if you get them free range from a local farmer you’re bound to be satisfied. Not-Roger’s eggs are always big and colourful and super-fresh for poaching, and if you put them to the taste test then supermarket eggs pale in comparison.

Sometimes I wonder whether we’ll ever meet Not-Roger – or learn his real name. Part of me wants to hide by the door one night, like a kid hoping to get a glimpse of Santa. But the other part of me thinks our quirky arrangement just makes the whole thing that little bit more fun.

After all, if you actually met Santa, would he still be quite as magical?

My mum without supermarkets

My mum burst my little blogging bubble last night in that way that only a well-meaning parent can.

I thought I'd been doing well and had been really chuffed to see the numbers of people who have been logging on to take a look, until my mother informed me that a decent portion of my readers are actually her friends. Not award-winning documentary makers, cabinet ministers or members of the UN.

So I'd like to take this opportunity to say hello and thank you to all my mum's friends. And this post is going to be about my mum and a little bit of non-supermarket shopping I've been doing today on her behalf.

Now, my mum is pretty much like every other grown-up's mum - often I look at her and think "my god, she's been right all these years......." and then she ruins the effect by saying something completely random.

Last night's telephone call was no exception. We'd been having a perfectly sensible conversation about various things, including a friend's baby and our plans to meet on Thursday, when suddenly the subject turned to this....

Mum: "Do you know about tofu?"

Me: "Yes. Why? Do you know about tofu?"

Mum: "No, but I need to know about tofu. What is tofu?"

Me: "That's like asking what is cheese - there are loads of different types. But it's basically a bean curd. What kind of tofu are you thinking of?"

Mum: "I don't know. What kind of tofu should I be thinking of?"

Me: "I don't know, you're the one thinking of it! Why are you asking about tofu?"

Mum: "I read about it. I need to be eating it."

Me: "Okay, what kind of meals are you thinking of?"

Mum: "I don't know. What's tofu like?"

Me (starting to get exasperated): "There are different types, like cheese, some soft and some hard."

Mum: "Mmmmmmmmmmm" (For readers not friends with my mum, she has a special way of saying “mmmmmmmm” that means she either doesn’t have any idea what you’re talking about or doesn't think you have any idea what you're talking about.)

Mum: "Is tofu hot or cold?"

Me: "It can be either. You can have it hot with a stir fry or cold with a salad."

Mum (perking up considerably): "Oooooh yes, I'll have it with salad. Where can I buy cold tofu?"

Me: "Tell you what, why don't you let me buy you a packet of a nice kind of tofu?"

Mum (clearly relieved that I'm taking control of the difficult tofu situation): "Oh yes please, that would be lovely. You get me some tofu." 

So this lunchtime I set out on a mission to find some mum-friendly tofu - not an easy task considering that it can be something of an acquired taste. I can picture vividly the look of disgust and disappointment on my mum's face if I get this wrong, which to be honest is highly likely. I'm just not sure that my mum's a tofu kind of girl, but I'm willing to give it a shot.

(And mum, if you're reading this, it was snowing heavily and I still went walking into town for you in my work skirt and high heels - that's got to be worth some Brownie points!)

However at least my challenge gave me a bit of a head start, in that if you want decent tofu you don’t want to be in a supermarket, where there is usually only one type available - if any. Independent shops, wholefood shops and health food shops are the places to go for good tofu.

Predictably I ended up in my favourite wholefood shop SoundBites, in Derby, which as I've said before, is brilliant. But I think my tofu questions may have left the staff in a state of bafflement.

To set the scene, this place is staffed by some pretty hardcore-looking vegan eco-warrior types who are probably more accustomed to debating the merits of fair trade vs food miles than helping to pinpoint a type of tofu that won't be too offensive to a customer's very mainstream mum.

My opening gambit of “do you have any tofu that my mum might like?” drew black stares from the staff, so I decided to attempt a joke...

“You know, some tofu that a meat-eater might like?”

Silence. And slightly distasteful looks. The joke bombed.

In the end we agreed that the basil tofu (my own personal favourite) is nice and flavourful for someone not used to it, while the smoked tofu is probably as close as vegan food gets to “meaty”, so I bought one of each.

So mum, the world (or at least a collection of your friends and possibly a couple of cabinet ministers) waits with baited breath to find out what you think of tofu.....

I don't know why this is side-on - I've tried three times to move it and now given up!

Yogurty ramblings

Since beginning this challenge just over three weeks ago, things have been surpisingly hairy with dairy. It might be cool for cats, but it's turning out to be hard to track down outside of the supermarkets.

I expected to run into trouble finding things like loo roll and kitchen cleaner (which actually have turned out to be easy thanks to the amazing hardware heaven that is Wilkos) but I never gave dairy products a thought.

Admittedly you can find a pint of milk almost anywhere (although it may not be as simple to find out where that milk has come from) and cheese is also easy thanks to the number of delis, farm shops, market stalls and cheesemongers that I know of. But when you start looking for things like yogurt and sour cream it gets curdlingly hard.

Creme freiche, I discovered last week, is the holy grail of the supermarket-free dairy product - pretty near impossible to find. It took me two lunch hours of power-walking around Derby, asking puzzled market stall holders and shopkeepers for help in an increasingly panicked voice, and sending my hair into frizz-overdrive by repeatedly pulling my bobble hat off and on as I dashed in and out of shops, before I eventually hit the jackpot in Jack Rabbits. And even then, they'd not got any in stock and it took a phonecall to the amazingly helpful co-owner Julie to secure a pot for the following day.

Then I hit an even bigger hump trying to find my favourite yogurt. You see, I love a pot of Rachel's Choice organic yogurt (the ginger and rhubarb flavours in particular) and used to make special trips to Sainsbury's to buy it, but that just won't wash any more.

I tried tweeting the company to ask if they knew of any independent stockists and they promised to get back to me. But I've not heard a peep since so I'm assuming that's a no!

So time to consider other yogurty options....

I found some promising-looking pots in Hasland Fruit and Flowers, the greengrocer just round the corner from our house. They even had rhubarb and orange flavours, which sent me into such a flurry of excitement that I tried to stack too many pots in my arms at once, then became further inflamed at the sight of cottage cheese by the same company, and ended up loosing my personal yogurt-Jenga game and dropping a pot on my way to the counter, splattering the shopkeeper in the process.

Of course I insisted on paying for the dropped pot as well as the pots I took home. My clumsiness is becoming something of a theme on this blog. Apparently I'm pretty useless without a nice metal shopping trolly to hang onto!

The yogurts I didn't drop!

Once I got home I decided to Google the yogurt-producers, Longley Farm, to see if I could find out where my yogurts had come from. I was delighted to see that the firm is in fact an independent, family-run dairy based at Holmefirth, not too far away in Yorkshire. But there wasn't much more information online so I decided to email the firm to find out more.

The response I received, from a lady called Rachel Liles, less than a day later, is proof that actually it's pretty easy to find out more about your food if you simply take the trouble to ask a few questions.

Rachel told me that the Longley Farm website was currently undergoing an upgrade to make it more informative, but in the meantime she was happy to answer my questions.

She explained that all the firm's "black and white milk" (from black and white cows) was sourced from farms within 15 miles of the dairy, saying "we deal directly with the farmer and given them one of the best milk prices".

And she went on to explain that many of Longley Farm's products are made with milk from Jersey cows, and that the firm pays the farmers the "top price in the country for this niche market".

So it's nice to know Longley Farm is giving farmers a fair deal, but what about the magnificent ladies who make the milk?

Rachel explained that the cows have "a summer field-based system and housing through the winter".

She wrote: "I personally visit all our farmers at least once per year and have constant telephone contact, all our farms are Red Tractor Farm Assured and I can honestly say that all the animals, in many cases, are better looked after than their kids!

"Our own Jersey farm is based in Barnsley and we currently milk 300 Jersey cows, with the young female cows spending the summer grazing at Longley Farm. We are a family run company and operate as one extended family, staff turnover is very low and the majority of our staff have at least 10 years service."

So it all sounds pretty good and I'm very glad I asked the questions. I can now enjoy my yogurts and cottage cheese, bought from an independent shop just two minutes away from my house and sourced from a decent dairy farm.

Panic buying... Hendo's!

Apparently supermarket shelves up and down the country have been stripped bare over the past few days due to wallies panic buying bread, milk and soup (sorry but unless you live in the Shetland Islands or somewhere equally remote, panic buying at the hint of snow makes you a wally). 

Neil and I have been doing some panic buying of a different sort after getting up this morning to discover we'd nearly run out of Hendo's.

The hallowed sauce

Now, to anyone from South Yorkshire, this represents a very serious emergency. In fact, when we win the Lottery and get round to designing our fantasy kitchen we may well install a big red panic button that when depressed activates a siren, flashing red lights and a speaker that blasts out "WARNING, WARNING, HENDO'S LEVEL CRITICAL" in a computerised female monotone. 

For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, Henderson's Relish is a bit like Worcestershire sauce, but ten million billion squillion trillion zillion times tastier. There is quite literally nothing edible in this world that cannot be improved with a liberal splash of Hendo's. And unlike other sauces which have fish bits in them (yuk) Hendo's is veggie and vegan friendly too.

Henry Henderson first began making his relish in Sheffield in the late 19th century at 35 Broad Lane. Today it's still produced within half a mile of the site where the first bottle was filled, in a tiny factory near the city's university.

Over the years Hendo's has achieved cult-like status, no doubt partly because it's still hard to obtain outside South Yorkshire or North Derbyshire unless you order online. The company's website is full of poems and celebrity endorsements, tales of people taking their treasured bottle of the good stuff to exotic locations and even using it in their wedding cake.

Sheffield sons Sean Bean and David Blunkett like a splash on their fish'n'chips and Peter Stringfellow is reportedly a fan, although it might be best not to think about where he likes to put it! It's even been imortalised in a song by Sheffield band The Everly Pregnant Brothers. The chorus lyrics are at the bottom of this blog - not to be read if you're of a sensitive disposition.

Growing up in the area, we always had a bottle of Hendo's in the cupboard or on the table. The other "W" relish variety was a dirty word in my household. 

Venturing out into the world I usually took a bottle of Hendo's with me and made it my business to spread the legend. I spent a year working in Edinburgh at Deadline Scotland and used to take it back up north for my colleagues after every home visit. On one memorable journey I sent 18 bottles of limited edition Sheffield Wednesday Hendo's bouncing down an escalator at Manchester Airport when a carrier bag split.

I currently supply a handful of people in the Derby Telegraph office because it's easily obtainable in Chesterfield but not quite so easy 30 miles further south. When friends say "bring a bottle" they're not necessarily talking about wine!

Use the sauce!

And Neil and I have a modest shrine to the relish in our kitchen - a graphic print by Sheffield artist Jim Connolly with the mantra "use the sauce".

Things get very tense when we get to the bottom of the bottle. It's actually stocked in most major supermarkets in our area so we used to get it with our weekly shop. But this morning we ventured on in the snow to the row of shops round the corner from our house and were delighted to find it at Hasland Fruit and Flowers. 

Phew, crisis averted. We can spice up any store cupboard basics with a splash of Hendo's, so let it snow!













Hendo's by The Everly Pregnant Brothers (to be sung to the tune of Coldplay's Yellow):

F*** Worcester sauce, that s***'s no good for you...
It tastes like f***ing glue...
And it's just not Hendo's

My rear without supermarkets

Okay I've done the (slightly more) glamorous stuff - I've bought the quirky olive oil from Spanish farmers and visited the local florist for a housewarming gift. 

But now it's time to strip things back and deal with a pressing issue - namely where do I go to get my toilet tissue?

It's all very well experimenting with farmers' markets and delis to find some fantastic food but when it comes to the household basics like loo roll and kitchen cleaners I'm a bit stumped without Tesco.

Following my chat with 93-year-old grandma (see yesterday's blog) I've decided that keeping an eye on the old folk is a smart tactic for my challenge. After all, you don't successfully negotiate your way through seven, eight or even nine decades without picking up a few tricks, and these guys remember what life was like before the supermarkets so they know of other places to shop.

With this in mind I decided to have a look in Wilkinsons. This well-known hardware chain is beloved of OAPs everywhere; they flock to the familiar red storefronts like wasps to a pint of beer on a hot summer's day. The mere mention of the word 'Wilkos' used to send my granddad into a hot flush of excitement. So it's got to be worth seeing what all the fuss is about.

Plus with the news today that HMV is going into administration it's a timely reminder that high street chains need our support too. They provide local jobs, and a structure and familiarity to our town centres. So many people grew misty-eyed at the closure of Woolworths a few years ago, but without support from customers these chains will continue to struggle.

After battling my way through the army of tartan trollies in the Chesterfield branch of Wilkinsons yesterday I have to say, hand on heart, that I'm a complete convert.

I, Jade Beecroft, effing LOVE Wilkos.

Anyone who hasn't been in there recently quite frankly hasn't lived. My granddad was right. It's brilliant.

First of all, it's just full of life-enhancingly practical stuff - pretty much all you could ever need to oil the cogs of your household. I needed a packet of washing up scourers and found myself stood in front of a huge display of the things, literally gob-smacked at the scouring choice before me. I've never seen such a vast array of scourers in my life. There were big ones, little ones, multi-packs, multi-multi-packs, wire ones, ones with special grips, budget ones and even flower-shaped scourers in a choice of cheerful colours.

And that's one of the most wonderful things about Wilkos - you can just walk around marvelling at things...

"My goodness, is that a pink, flower-shaped washing up scourer?" you think as you saunter past.

"God, there's a huge plastic greenhouse for just £39.99. And look at those lovely shelf brackets. And over here there's a unisex urine bottle. A unisex what....?" (at which point you either drop your basket or walk straight into a pyramid of toilet rolls).

It is honestly the most entertainment you can possible have out shopping.

I even found a dedicated reptile aisle catering to absolutely all your reptile needs. It's hard to imagine the pensioners of north Derbyshire having a lot of reptile needs, but never-the-less there it was.

And the price! We all know that old folk love a bargain, which is presumably another reason why Wilkos gets their juices flowing, but these prices were almost too good to be true.

I walked out of the shop with a pack of eight decent quality quilted loo rolls (I really don't approve of going overboard on something you're going to use to wipe your bum but my other half likes a soft ply), a pack of kitchen rolls, an Ecover kitchen cleaner spray (usually quite pricey) and a pack of scourers (the handy grip ones - not the flowers) and the whole thing only came to a fiver.

I thought I'd misheard when the cashier rang it through. You can pay nearly a fiver for a pack of decent quality loo rolls alone in many other places.

The old chap behind me in the queue gave me a satisfied smile and a wink as I pocketed my change, probably delighted to find that at least one young whippersnapper had finally seen the light. Who knows, maybe I'll be getting myself one of those tartan shopping trollies next, they do look very handy....

Recollections of a 93-year-old

"You knew how much money you had for the week and that was that. So you bought a rabbit and made it last for three days."

At almost 93 and still in possession of an almost full set of marbles, my grandma is an incredible living history book. I visited her yesterday for lunch and asked her what shopping was like before the supermarkets came on the scene, and what impact they had when they were introduced.

Grandma has pretty much come full circle in terms of shopping. Growing up in the 1920s in a well-to-do Sheffield family her mother kept a live-in maid who was responsible for buying the groceries. Nine decades later and pretty much housebound without help, my grandma again relies on others to do her shopping - only now it's a "nice gentleman" from Tesco who delivers it straight to her door.

But what was it like shopping for her own family in the 1940s and 1950s?

"There were shops in every neighbourhood," she remembers. "You didn't have to go into town. You had a butcher and separate fishmonger, a baker and a greengrocer. And you pretty much went shopping for a bit or this or that every day - we didn't have a fridge in those days so you couldn't store things like you can now.

"The best thing about it was the relationships that developed between shopkeepers and customers. You really got to know each other and they became like friends. They got to know exactly what you wanted so they might set something aside for you. You don't get that now with the supermarkets - everything is so impersonal."

So when did the supermarkets first come on the scene? I ask her if she remembers the first one.

"Oh yes, it was quite a to-do," she says. "I would have been in my 20s or 30s I think. The first one was quite small but then they just got larger and larger - every new one that opened was bigger than the last. The choice was unimaginable; and that got bigger and bigger too.

"I didn't go into them at first. I was dubious. I had my own butcher and greengrocer so why bother? But gradually we all started going in for a look because it was the 'in thing' to do.

"And of course everything was cheaper, so bit by bit I think everyone started shopping in the supermarkets instead."

And do you think you actually saved money in the supermarkets grandma?

"Well no, I think that was a bit of a con. Things were cheaper but there was so much choice you were bedazzled, you ended up buying much more than you needed. And then there was all the special offers too, so you'd buy three things instead of one."

By this point in the conversation I can tell grandma is getting bored. We've finished our soup and she's starting to fidget. Like most old people she's a MASSIVE fan of cake and I can tell that her mind is wandering to the Victoria sponge in the kitchen. 

I round up our little chat by asking her if she thinks things are better or worse now.

She considers for a few seconds before answering: "In some ways better. They are certainly more convenient with their opening hours and I'd be really stuck without my Tesco delivery. I'd have to rely on friends and neighbours to fetch my groceries.

"But it other ways worse. There aren't as many local shops any more because people don't support them, which I think is a real shame. And I think it's easier to balance your weekly budget when you're just popping out each day to get what you need rather than buying all manner of things in the supermarkets. 

"You see the way some people pile up their trollies and you just think 'oh my god'. It's no wonder they're all getting fat."

Grandma gives a decisive nod and, without a hint of irony, goes to get the Victoria sponge.

Count me out

Is anybody out there going to a supermarket today? It's 10am so they'll all just be opening. Is the siren call from Tesco seducing you as you enjoy your Sunday brunch? Can you feel the lure as Sainsbury's beckons a saucy finger?

Not me.

I'm discovering that one of the best things of this challenge is that my shopping hours are now limited. I thought I might find this limiting (and indeed for many of those who have commented on this resolution the restricted shopping times has been the part that has caused most angst on my behalf), but actually it turns out it's just the opposite - it's actually quite liberating.

Our store cupboard is full and we've got all we need thanks to my little lunch break jaunts. But despite this, without the resolution I would have probably found myself in Tesco today, just to pick up a carton of this or a packet of that. Isn't it amazing how you can always convince yourself that you want or need something?

The reality is that we don't actually NEED anything - we've got plenty of food in the house to see us through to tomorrow and beyond. 

The kind of shops I now frequent do not open on Sundays so the option is simply not there, effectively eliminating that nagging pull that perhaps I ought to be buying something. So I'm off to enjoy my Sunday now thank you very much....  happy shopping everyone....