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Tag Archives: vegan cheese

Say what you mean and mean what you say, say what?

dinner dance lookalikes

You can look twice but that is not Marilyn Monroe snuggling up to Charlie Chaplin and neither is it Joan Collins looking sultry standing next to Clint Eastwood doing what Clint does best. They are lookalikes appearing at my company’s biennial dinner dance 1999 courtesy of yours truly. At the time I was a PA to a bigwig director and part of my duties included arranging the dinner dance. Nice one, Joanie.

The other day I was asked a question which I did my best to answer but as I found it rather amphibious it resulted in my waffling a bit, I know as hard as that is to believe, before realising the word I was looking for was in fact ambiguous. But then again considering the nature of the question it may well have been deemed fishy.

What question! What answer!

It was to do with my jewellery.

What jewellery!

I’ll get back to that. Talking of ambiguous I am guilty of this. Of being ambiguous I mean. When in 2012 I took my A-level equivalent in creative writing, my tutor had to pull me up a couple of times by my ear lobes when she deemed I was being vague. And quite right she was too. Simply because I follow what I’m talking about doesn’t automatically mean everyone else will. Take for instance when in a recent blog I spoke of vegan cheese and how I should be congratulated for at least trying it. Oh yes, the Vegan Trying It medal. This was way, way back when eating vegan cheese was as pleasant as having a red hot needle poked in your eye. Unlike today. One could be forgiven for thinking I simply went back to eating cow cheese. Wrong! I continued to go without but I failed to make that crystal clear, didn’t I!

I apologise for being an amphibian.

And there’s another instance too. Good grief, was I on drugs? No, but I did have a hangover and not an alcohol-induced hangover a caffeine overload hangover (if you can call two cups of espresso an overload). I referred to a white milky-frothy-so-it-looks-just-like-clouds coffee as a farty latte as in arty-farty because let’s face it, they are, and I figured my meaning was clearly evident. Or? Although farty could be appropriate too, I mean, coffee can have that effect on one. Baked beans does it for some.

So, what jewellery?

Well, I took it upon myself to design and create a range of jewellery. Personally, I’m not that into jewellery but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate nice stuff and neither does it affect my aim to make others happy with my designs. I am not a girlie girl. I don’t particularly enjoy shopping, gossiping (well, sometimes) and throughout my life my closest friends have always been male. Platonic male friends. Apart from a couple of very, very dear and long-suffering females with whom I am incredibly lucky enough to connect.

I only hope they feel the same.

On that note, I wish you well.

Best wishes and ttfn,
Rosie.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Blue Deep Ocean.
Jewellery Mizuki by Rosemarie

Ninja windowsill

Ninja at home, 7 Swallowfield Gardens, Theale, Berkshire, 15 June 1997. Beautiful, funny, incorrigible, intelligent, liked sleeping on heads mine in particular. All gone now. And I am being purposely amphibious.

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Posted by on February 3, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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Maggots, great-grandfathers and stinky alleys

Ajax and cows

Lintig, Germany, back garden, circa 1983. I think I should name this picture “Spot the Cat”. He’s there. Look closely and you’ll see facing the cows two shadowy grey ears. His name is Ajax. Beautiful boy. Intelligent. Played fetch with his ball. Bless his soul. Always in my heart.

Hello fellow bloggers and I hope this finds you well and blooming in all the right places. A few years back… no, more like in the area of 17 years ago, argh! Slow down, do. Parts of me are still lodged in the 20th century. I can’t catch up. And gone off the subject, as usual.

Err, cheese.

Yes, cheese. Not your stinky, ripe old blue where maggots are practically crawling from it cheese. I’m serious. My maternal great-grandfather used to guzzle down blue cheese (and whatever inhabitants in it at the time) so ripe I am practically related to a fly. Anyway, in the mid to late-nineties and for a couple of years I became an absolute vegan and never felt better. Absolutely. And I did it in my own inimitable way (some would call it obsessive) of going the whole hog. Didn’t eat animals or their by-products and neither did I wear them. I would buy my footwear from a great charity called Animal Aid and my handbags from “Stinky Alley” in the heart of Reading, Berkshire.

Yes, so-called because this particular alleyway always ponged a bit.

A curious mixture of Domestos, raw meat and incense sprinkled with unidentifiable aromas would assault your nostrils whenever you were in the vicinity. Reading, for those who are unaware, is made up of old, delightful, narrow cobbled alleyways either side of which sit various shops. And one such establishment was an ethnical type of place that sold material bags made from velvet and anything else as long as it didn’t once have a pulse. Opposite and on the corner to the ethnics with supplies direct from India and Africa and the proprietor’s auntie from Bethnal Green who was a dab hand at sewing, sat a butchers which was the main contributor.

To the pong, I mean.

The smells emanating from his shop were delightful. Blood, fat, raw meat all mixed together with that most beastly of bleaches, Domestos. Hadn’t he heard of Ecover?

Anyway, bear with there is a point. I could never get on with vegan cheese. Frankly it was hideous. I tried. Give me a gold star for trying but honestly I’d have been better off melting the plastic packet in which it came and pouring that over my cauliflower.

And here’s where my ex-husband enters the picture.

Profuse apologies if you are finding this entry to be an elongated waffle. Next week’s will be shorter. Guarantee it.

Congratulations to aforementioned ex-husband for recently discovering a vegan cheese which tastes DELICIOUS! No thoughts of “Why did they bother this stuff is horrible” and “Good grief they must be joking I’m expected to eat that?” even remotely entered my head. Brilliant to see at least one thing has improved in the 21st century. Vegan cheese. Lovely jubbly.

Um, in case you are wondering, I lapsed. At least for the moment. No longer can I claim to be a vege not when I’m sitting here with dead Antipodean sheep gracing my feet otherwise known as Kiwi Ugg boots. And something else too. All vegans and vegetarians reading this cover your eyes. Eating the odd piece of fish. I know, I know, and yes, I have seen “Finding Nemo” maybe I should watch it again. Sorry, not proud of it but each to their own. Live and let live. Make the choice with your conscience. At which point I can’t help but wonder if there’s such a thing as an inverted type of VA? Vegans Anonymous.

Best, best.
Rosie.

PS. I mentioned the elderly woman in a previous blog let’s not forget the mature gentleman who lives alone at the end of your street. Why not take him out to your local for a pint? He’d like that. And you’ll feel none too shabby either.

Skip over to my counterpart as below to read more daftness about insects the size of a small country and their relationship to cooking utensils.

Wolf Black blog:
http://enigmawolfblack.wordpress.com/

Working website:
http://www.rosemarybachholzer.co.uk

Logo featuring my books

 
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Posted by on January 20, 2014 in Uncategorized

 

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