A Generous Helping of Currant Pudding
Tine and Rubob took only a short walk this afternoon.
"It's Boxing Day," Rubob, "and I'm quite worn out after packing up all the boxes and giving them to the household servants."
"I don't recall receiving any boxes," Rubob said with some disappointment.
"Let's go on a different walk today," Tine said. "I'd like to get away from things. Did I tell you that Mr. Brians and Aunt Beryl went for a walk around the lake in Macclesfield on Christmas Day? That sounds perfect. Why don't we go for a walk around a lake today?"
The closest thing Tine and Rubob have to the lake in Macclesfield, Derbyshire, is the reservoir at the top of Diamond Glen, so that's where they went.
"A beautiful scene," Rubob said. "Dave used to love ice fishing, you know. Dad would take us. I just hated it. I'd sit there on a wooden bench and freeze. Dave would have his teeter-totter and wait for it to spring up."
"A teeter-totter?" Tine asked.
"A tip-up, Tine. It tells you when a fish is on the line. Then you'd have to pull the lines out of the icy water."
"Do you think we could fish for smelt here?" Tine asked, looking out over the frozen surface of the lake.
"You need a river for a smelt run, Tine, and there's no river here. The smelt swim upriver to breed."
"Well, I don't know," Tine said. "We might try it one day. I have a hunch there are some smelt down there. Where'd you go smelt fishing?"
"On Lake Superior. It was cold, Tine -- there's nothing to do all day but stare at your teeter-totter and freeze."
Tine looked at a mailbox, which had a tip-up of its own. She imagined the flag springing up with a smelt on the line.
"I'm getting cold just thinking about it, Rubob. Let's turn back."
"Already?" Rubob said.
"It's freezing today, and I'm tired after all the Christmas festivities. I can hardly move my feet. Tine looked up a dirt road leading away from the lake, up to the Metacomet Trail over the mountain.
"Christmas is like ascending a great mountain," she said, thinking of a flag she'd just seen hanging from a tree.
"There's just so much to do," Tine said -- "so many gifts to buy, so many trips to the shopping mall, all those little hearts to please with just the right present: a Robopet puppy, a pink cell phone with unlimited text messaging, gift certificates to Abercrombie -- all the Christmas wishes and letters to Santa, the expectations, and for us, the memories of past Christmases all wrapped up and ready to open again. And when it's finally over, there's a pile of boxes and crumpled up wrapping paper to put out on the curb."
"Detritus, Tine -- the detritus of the holidays," Rubob said.
"I don't know that I can be doing with the whole thing, Rubob," Tine said. She plodded wearily on toward home in the gray afternoon.
"There's a bowl of currant pudding and hot custard waiting for you for your dessert this evening -- or even when you get home," Rubob said, and the thought of it boosted Tine's spirits.
"You certainly do make a delicious currant pudding," she said, wondering how he happened to think of currant pudding at just the right time. "It was just like the currant pudding at the Royal Oak in Betws-y-Coed."
Years ago, Tine and Rubob had attempted to climb Mount Snowdon in North Wales, but it was such a rainy, windy morning that they didn't manage to hike more than a few hundred yards beyond the parking lot at the base of the mountain. The rain had soaked them through in minutes, and the wind had pushed them back. The weather was so foul, in fact, that a stray sheep had sought to push its way into the driver's seat of their car when Rubob opened the door to drive back into town. The sheep might have been looking to dry off, Tine told Rubob, or maybe for a ride into town.
Snowdonia, on a dry day
Tine and Rubob drove hastily back to their bed and breakfast -- without the sheep -- but they found, to Tine's dismay, that their room had no heat and no hot water in the daytime. So Tine -- pale, wet and shivering -- suggested that they enjoy a warm lunch at the Royal Oak in the center of town.
http://www.information-britain.co.uk/extrapics.php?placeid=2433
"What a memorable lunch that was," Tine said to Rubob. Like old Alfred Wainwright after one of his walks in the Lakeland fells, she drank at least a half-dozen cups of tea to warm up. She then moved on to the fish and chips, and she finished up with a plentiful helping of steamed currant pudding.
The Royal Oak. Photo: http://hotel-snowdonia.co.uk/
This Christmas Eve, with memories of that Royal Oak lunch in mind, Rubob had made currant pudding for dessert, and he'd served Tine two generous portions with custard up to the brim.
"It's Christmas Eve," Tine had said to Rubob, who'd looked over at her dripping custard. "It's how Alfred Wainwright always had it. He'd insist that his bowl be filled with custard right up to the brim. And that's exactly how I like it."
"Memories of your currant pudding and custard, Rubob," Tine said on her chilly walk this afternoon -- "that's what keeps me going. They keep me warm. How'd you get it so much like the currant pudding at the Royal Oak?"
"It's steamed, Tine -- steamed in a mold over simmering water for one and a half to two hours."
"Just like with those smelt that Dave loves so much -- it takes some waiting, I guess, Rubob," Tine said.
As they walked back down Diamond Glen, Tine thought (and maybe Rubob, too), "All in all a very pleasant walk."
"It's Boxing Day," Rubob, "and I'm quite worn out after packing up all the boxes and giving them to the household servants."
"I don't recall receiving any boxes," Rubob said with some disappointment.
"Let's go on a different walk today," Tine said. "I'd like to get away from things. Did I tell you that Mr. Brians and Aunt Beryl went for a walk around the lake in Macclesfield on Christmas Day? That sounds perfect. Why don't we go for a walk around a lake today?"
The closest thing Tine and Rubob have to the lake in Macclesfield, Derbyshire, is the reservoir at the top of Diamond Glen, so that's where they went.
"A beautiful scene," Rubob said. "Dave used to love ice fishing, you know. Dad would take us. I just hated it. I'd sit there on a wooden bench and freeze. Dave would have his teeter-totter and wait for it to spring up."
"A teeter-totter?" Tine asked.
"A tip-up, Tine. It tells you when a fish is on the line. Then you'd have to pull the lines out of the icy water."
"Do you think we could fish for smelt here?" Tine asked, looking out over the frozen surface of the lake.
"You need a river for a smelt run, Tine, and there's no river here. The smelt swim upriver to breed."
"Well, I don't know," Tine said. "We might try it one day. I have a hunch there are some smelt down there. Where'd you go smelt fishing?"
"On Lake Superior. It was cold, Tine -- there's nothing to do all day but stare at your teeter-totter and freeze."
Tine looked at a mailbox, which had a tip-up of its own. She imagined the flag springing up with a smelt on the line.
"I'm getting cold just thinking about it, Rubob. Let's turn back."
"Already?" Rubob said.
"It's freezing today, and I'm tired after all the Christmas festivities. I can hardly move my feet. Tine looked up a dirt road leading away from the lake, up to the Metacomet Trail over the mountain.
"Christmas is like ascending a great mountain," she said, thinking of a flag she'd just seen hanging from a tree.
"There's just so much to do," Tine said -- "so many gifts to buy, so many trips to the shopping mall, all those little hearts to please with just the right present: a Robopet puppy, a pink cell phone with unlimited text messaging, gift certificates to Abercrombie -- all the Christmas wishes and letters to Santa, the expectations, and for us, the memories of past Christmases all wrapped up and ready to open again. And when it's finally over, there's a pile of boxes and crumpled up wrapping paper to put out on the curb."
"Detritus, Tine -- the detritus of the holidays," Rubob said.
"I don't know that I can be doing with the whole thing, Rubob," Tine said. She plodded wearily on toward home in the gray afternoon.
"There's a bowl of currant pudding and hot custard waiting for you for your dessert this evening -- or even when you get home," Rubob said, and the thought of it boosted Tine's spirits.
"You certainly do make a delicious currant pudding," she said, wondering how he happened to think of currant pudding at just the right time. "It was just like the currant pudding at the Royal Oak in Betws-y-Coed."
Years ago, Tine and Rubob had attempted to climb Mount Snowdon in North Wales, but it was such a rainy, windy morning that they didn't manage to hike more than a few hundred yards beyond the parking lot at the base of the mountain. The rain had soaked them through in minutes, and the wind had pushed them back. The weather was so foul, in fact, that a stray sheep had sought to push its way into the driver's seat of their car when Rubob opened the door to drive back into town. The sheep might have been looking to dry off, Tine told Rubob, or maybe for a ride into town.
Snowdonia, on a dry day
Tine and Rubob drove hastily back to their bed and breakfast -- without the sheep -- but they found, to Tine's dismay, that their room had no heat and no hot water in the daytime. So Tine -- pale, wet and shivering -- suggested that they enjoy a warm lunch at the Royal Oak in the center of town.
http://www.information-britain.co.uk/extrapics.php?placeid=2433
"What a memorable lunch that was," Tine said to Rubob. Like old Alfred Wainwright after one of his walks in the Lakeland fells, she drank at least a half-dozen cups of tea to warm up. She then moved on to the fish and chips, and she finished up with a plentiful helping of steamed currant pudding.
The Royal Oak. Photo: http://hotel-snowdonia.co.uk/
This Christmas Eve, with memories of that Royal Oak lunch in mind, Rubob had made currant pudding for dessert, and he'd served Tine two generous portions with custard up to the brim.
"It's Christmas Eve," Tine had said to Rubob, who'd looked over at her dripping custard. "It's how Alfred Wainwright always had it. He'd insist that his bowl be filled with custard right up to the brim. And that's exactly how I like it."
"Memories of your currant pudding and custard, Rubob," Tine said on her chilly walk this afternoon -- "that's what keeps me going. They keep me warm. How'd you get it so much like the currant pudding at the Royal Oak?"
"It's steamed, Tine -- steamed in a mold over simmering water for one and a half to two hours."
"Just like with those smelt that Dave loves so much -- it takes some waiting, I guess, Rubob," Tine said.
As they walked back down Diamond Glen, Tine thought (and maybe Rubob, too), "All in all a very pleasant walk."
posted by Tine at 8:26 PM
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