Guilt-free cheesecake pots

• 8.5g sachet sugar free lemon Jell-o
• 2 cups boiling water
• 200g extra light cream cheese
• 4 drops lemon extract and/or grated lemon zest
• 1 tsp honey (optional)
• 4 digestive biscuits or Graham’s crackers

In a large jug, mix the Jell-o with the boiling water and allow to cool till it’s tepid, but not setting. Add the cream cheese, lemon extract (and/or zest), and honey, and use a hand blender to fully mix together. Divide the mixture between four tumblers (or small tupperware boxes if you’re taking it into work) and put in the fridge to set. Once set, crumble a biscuit onto each one. Works out at around 150 calories per pot.

For the love of Kindle!

Aren’t afternoon naps wonderful things! I’m not quite sure how I ended up having one, but somewhere between just resting my eyes for a moment and waking up again that appears to be precisely what happened. That, or some inexplicable time slip during which something fabulously refreshing occurred.

Either way I find myself still in bed with a happily snoring cat snuggled in tight against my lap and absolutely no prayer of moving for the foreseeable future.

That’s okay, because you know what I have? I have an unlimited personal library right here at my fingertips. Oh yes indeedy I do! I have an iPad and a Kindle app, and the literary world is my oyster.

Which feels like something I ought to publicly admit to taking great pleasure in after all my stubborn resistance to the idea of virtual books.

It’s actually Steven Gould I have to thank for my unexpected conversion. He had the marvellous idea of asking Twitter friends to proofread a newly scanned digital conversion of one of his books. At the time I had my old netbook, and it wasn’t the most intuitive of experiences, but it was far more accessible than I’d expected.

The real jumping point, however, was when he extraordinarily kindly gave me an advance copy of his latest book, 7th SIGMA. Which is an absolute joy to read, by the way, and something I urge you to do at your earliest convenience!

This time I had my iPad. I also had a desperately sad funeral to attend, entailing a flight during which I really needed to take my mind off the whole heartbreaking affair if I had the slightest hope of being strong enough to be of comfort to those most closely affected.

So it was that I found myself sitting in an airport, with an iPad, reading a book. Such a simple moment but, daft as it sounds, it really was a revelation! For all my insistence that nothing in the world could possibly compare to reading a “proper” book (that is, one made of mulched up trees), it transpired something which fitted as many books as I could possibly wish to carry all neat and TARDIS-like in my handbag is actually pretty damn magnificent! It even allowed me to adjust page and font colour, and adjust the font size to suit my slightly weak, but not enough for reading glasses, eyesight.

Skip forward a couple of months and, without having to disturb the cat or do any precarious book-attaining lean from bed, I just abandoned A Dance with Dragons in favour of a fascinating book on positive psychology which I started reading in the wee small hours last night without any need to disturb my partner by putting on the light. It’s not a book I would have even found, let alone bought, in paper form.

Later, I shall commit the ultimate sacrilege by deciding which of my paperbacks I plan on donating to charity before our imminent house move because, frankly, they’re just so much clutter to cart along with us and, if I want to read them again, I’ll pick up a digital copy.

Which isn’t to say I don’t still have a deep and abiding affection for “proper” books: I shall also be deciding which of my most treasured paper and hardback books to keep, and in a funny kind of way they’re all the more precious to me because they’re something special enough to want in a more tangible form.

But I do feel I owe Kindle a very public apology for all my grumbling resistance to the sheer magic they, and apps like them, have brought into the world. Also to Steven Gould for being the unwitting cause of this happy discovery – thank you!

“Very you”

I’ve spent quite some months trying very hard not to be too… me. I know I’m a bit odd. Or, a total fucking weirdo hippy-idealist nerd who doesn’t even manage to fit in with other weirdo hippy-idealist nerds but is basically a nice person who tries her best.

Which is kind of a mouthful, now I come to look at it, so let’s go back to the shorthand of “odd”.

The point is, I do try to keep the oddness on the inside, honestly I do. I try so hard I sometimes feel contortionists would look at me and think “Fuck me, how the hell did she end up in that position?!” All to absolutely no avail, of course. If there’s one thing I should have learned way back when I was doing my insanely bad choice of college course it’s that, no matter how damn hard I try, I simply don’t fit in.

When I was making that particular monumental mistake, my mother was on the phone to my sister one evening and commented on how hard a time I was having trying to fit in at college. “Good,” was my sister’s insightful response. All these years later, it still makes me smile.

Maybe I’d have been this way even if my life had been normal. Maybe. But it so many worlds of hasn’t, so I guess we’ll never know. I digress…

Something changed recently. Still in the process of figuring out where it leaves me, and now isn’t really the time to talk about it. Suffice it to say I’m less inclined to waste energy pretending I’m not me just to please others right now.

Delighted with a new pair of boots I received today, I showed them to one of my absolute darling favourites who I hope to stay in touch with many years after I’m far, far away from the current misery I’m in. “They’re very you,” she said, in that tone which says “I don’t like them, but I like you, and this is the most flattering thing I can think of to say without time to prepare a better answer.”

You know what? They really are. Thin end of the wedge, and about fucking time too!

Banana protein pancakes

This is entirely my own recipe. Do please share it, but I’d appreciate a link back if you do.

• 2 medium egg whites
• ½ a ripe banana
• ½ scoop flavoured whey protein*
• Splash of good quality vanilla essence
• ¼ tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp clear honey

* I use Dymatize Elite butter cream toffee flavour which, unlike most whey proteins, really is as tasty as the name sounds!

Mix all the ingredients bar the honey in a blender. Heat frying pan to near-smoking hot. Spritz with non-stick spray. Pour in the batter and swirl around to coat the base of the pan. Once cooked underneath and set on top, use a wide spatula to flip and cook the other side. Drizzle the honey over the top and serve.

Depending on your whey protein, this works out at around 150 calories per pancake, and tastes like pure sweet indulgence heaven!

(Sorry – no picture at the moment. By the time it occurred to me I ought to share the recipe, I was halfway through eating it!)

“Plan B” skirt

(Twitterly feedback suggested backstory etc was welcome. Feel free to skip the talky bit and head for the pretty pictures – I shan’t be offended!)

Amanda Palmer kicked off a wonderful #FuckPlanB hashtag thread on Twitter, which really was quite humbling to read.

Essentially the advice was simple: fuck “plan B”, do what you love.

Plan A for me was music. Always music. Plan B was admin… well, not so much a plan as a frantic attempt to think of something vaguely responsible and grown-up after practical-minded adults warned to make sure I had a backup plan “just in case”. Of course, now I’m an adult myself and realise we don’t know what the fuck we’re talking about 99% of the time, that advice makes a little more sense. Alas, I followed it.

There ensued a twenty year period of work related misery, broken only by one stint as a dance and Samba drumming teacher, and another volunteering for a Clan Trust in Scotland. Both of which were gloriously rewarding, happy periods of time during which precious little admin was required of me!

For various reasons, Plan A no longer really feels like an option. Good as I may be at it, Plan B has been a monumental mistake pretty much from word go. Plan C, then…

I love sewing. I’m not talking about minor repairs or recreating some mass-produced shite from the High Street. I mean sewing. After years of making do, something in the stream of #FuckPlanB messages made up my mind. Instead of the second-hand car I was contemplating, I put the money I’d saved into a new sewing machine and a proper tailoring dress form. Best. Decision. Ever!

Technology has moved on since my original machine, though! I was debating my first project, when Angus helpfully observed I needed something simple to start off with, just to learn my way around the new machine, and get a feel for how it handled. He suggested a slip dress. Bless.

He did have a point, but I’m pretty certain I was clear about the whole wanting to sew thing! I’ve called the result the Plan B Skirt, because frankly it involved so many “okay… Plan B” moments, the result is a living testament to the power of adaptation! In the process, Plan C has started to take shape in my mind. Time will tell.

So. Take a skirt you’ve long since shrunk out of…

Actually, take two of them. I can’t remember why I bought two, but now I’m very glad I did! Cut the skirts into panels…

Yes, it’s horribly crumpled. In my defence, it had been shoved into my overflowing fabric basket for quite some months! At this point, the plan was quite simple – I was going to reshape the panels, stitch them back together and ad lib a waistband from thin air, creating one enormous swishy ruffled skirt.

At which point I realised the skirts were two different lengths. Er. Oh. Plan B, then.

Here’s where the new dress form really started to pay dividends as I obsessively pinned and repinned the component parts trying to figure out what would work well instead. At some point the idea of reforming the basic skirt to actually fit me, then using the additional skirt to create a built-in bustle struck me.

It all kind of took shape from there, really. I spent a while unpicking trim from the bustle panels to add to the front of the skirt so it all tied in. As it was taking on a decidedly steampunky feel, I wanted to add something of interest to the front of the waist. I tried assorted options, quite liking the idea of D-ring clip-on points…

Only I didn’t have matching cotton tape wide enough to use the ones I had. Plan B, then, and a hasty trip to the hardware store to buy smaller rings! Was pleased with the look, though…

It was time to start sewing. I put the skirt together, with much swearing over zip insertion, which I’ve always hated doing and my fabulous new machine hasn’t managed to make any easier. The remaining two panels were reshaped, sewn together, then gathered and attached to the skirt. At which point it really started to feel like it was taking shape.

From the offcuts of the bustle panel, I had just enough fabric to create a new waistband. I was so pleased with the effect, I’d actually attached it and given it a go over with a hot iron before realising I’d completely forgotten to attach the D-ring tabs. I… er… oh. Balls.

Plan B! Important aspect of any kind of art: the ability to completely fuck up and pretend like you meant it to look that way all along. So, after an inordinate amount of swearing and pinning and swearing some more…

Military buttons! I totally meant for it to look like that all along.

The rest, as they say, is history. One steampunky skirt, the foundation for a whole outfit I’m now working on, in all its glory…

You in your small corner…

There was a song my mum used to sing to me which, whilst I abhor the religion it comes from, I adore the sentiment it promotes…

Jesus bids us shine
With a pure, clear light.
Like a little candle
Burning in the night.
In this world of darkness
So we must shine -
You in your small corner,
And I in mine.

Something I love beyond words about the internet is the way people share. Beautiful, wonderful, talented, creative people with generous hearts and unshackled imaginations, quietly doing their own thing in such a way that anyone who cares to take a moment may pause and notice them, finding their day immeasurably brightened by the experience. People who create simply for the love of creating, and share simply because they can.

Apryl is one of those people. It was her Red Riding Hood doll that first caught my eye – from the initial sketch, to the fabulous weird quirkiness, to the fact she writes a story for each doll… it was love at first sight!

Ironically, today it was her Little Miss Melancholia post which proved the particular ray of sunshine to bring me back from the kind of crappy afternoon at work that makes you want to curl up in a corner and cry. It seemed to me the least I could do is my small part to share this scrumptious treat with others!

Browse through her blog, stop by her store… I promise your world will be a little richer for having done so.

Solfeggietto and the key to being naturally gifted

One of my earliest happy memories is of teeny tiny toddler me reaching up on tippy tippy toes and absolutely delighting in the results when I managed to reach the piano keys. I don’t know what it was about the piano but it was definitely love at first sight! My mother was quick to recognise my interest and before long I was learning to play. Pity the poor lady for the monster she created as endless rounds of “I am C. Middle C. Left hand, right hand, middle C.” ensued!

Those rounds of practising left and right hand progressed to scales and arpeggios and steadily more complex music. I practised for hour upon hour upon hour. Voluntarily. I’m a great believer that, left to their own devices, children will display their natural inclinations for what kind of career might suit them as adults. Parents, speaking as somebody who doesn’t have children so ultimately has no right to comment? If your child shows particular talent for something they voluntarily practise for hours, and if that something is a good thing? You should probably encourage it.

Never did this hit me more clearly than a random series of link-hops finding me back listening to one of my favourite pieces to play. A favourite, but I drove myself demented over it! I played it obsessively over and over again, always convinced something wasn’t quite right, always seeking that sense of perfection I strove for with every piece.

I haven’t heard it in years. I’ve just listened to about twenty different versions – all professional standard – on Spotify. You know what I just realised? I had long since perfected it. I had long since perfected it and even though I’ve always known it intellectually, deep down I had absolutely no comprehension how good a musician I really was.

There’s a reason I didn’t know. It’s a story for another time. Probably for never, actually. Done is done, gone is gone. What is interesting is what other people don’t know, and that can best be summarised with a variation on Samuel Goldwyn’s “the harder I work, the luckier I get”:

The more you practise, the more naturally gifted you become.

Sure, I had a natural inclination towards playing the piano. Sure, I seem to have – or have developed – a sharply honed ear for sound. But ultimately? After too many years without a piano, when I finally have space for one again, I’m going to be right back to Grade 1 scales and arpeggios! Speak to any form of artist – musician, dancer, writer, or visual artist – and you’ll be surprised at just how much practise goes into being so naturally gifted!

On which, ahem, note (honestly no pun intended!), somebody doing a lovely job of playing the piece in question… complete with supporting comments to the beneficial effect of practise on skill!

Protein pancakes with blueberry sauce

For the pancakes:

• 6 egg whites
• ½ cup porridge oats
• ½ tsp cinnamon
• ½ tsp mixed spice
• 2 tsp natural vanilla extract
• ¼ tsp baking powder
• Oil to fry

For the topping:

• 2 tbsp fat free Greek yoghurt
• ½ cup blueberries
• 1 tsp clear honey
• 1 tsp natural vanilla extract
• Splash of water

Begin by blending the dry ingredients together, till the oats are fairly fine. Add the egg whites and vanilla, then allow to rest for a moment.

Simmer the blueberries, honey and vanilla together in a pan, lightly crushing the blueberries with the back of a spoon to release the flavour.

In a large frying pan, heat some oil to near smoking hot. You should have sufficient batter to make four good sized pancakes in total.

I served the pancakes sandwiched with a tablespoon of yoghurt and a generous drizzle of the blueberry sauce between each layer. This works out at 334 calories in total. I decided to share it, but frankly it’s an absolutely heavenly “clean” treat – I wouldn’t have felt the least bit guilty had I nommed the lot!

Huge thanks to the fantastic Marc David, who shared the original recipe this one was tweaked from.

Lean protein stir fry

Should probably stress that this recipe is one I devised to make our eating plan more interesting. It’s not designed to be an authentic anything – just a tastier form of the standard lean protein, rice ‘n’ veg body sculpting fare!

• 1 bunch salad onions, halved lengthways (quartered, if thick), then cut into 1″ lengths
• 1 romano pepper, halved lengthways, then sliced into short, thin strips
• Small bag sugar snap peas, sliced
• 2 whole eggs
• 7 egg whites
• 4 skinless chicken breasts, cut into bite-sized chunks
• Soy sauce
• Chicken stock cube
• Chinese five spice seasoning
• Olive oil for frying

Heat a frying pan or wok on a relatively high heat. This is the order I tend to cook things in, but it all ends up in the same bowl, so go with whatever you see fit!

Place the spring onions in the bottom of a large bowl or container. These won’t be cooked – the heat of food added on top will do that for you.

Add the peppers to the pan and leave to dry fry till they start to blacken around the edges. Then add to onions.

Heat a small amount of oil (I use a drizzler to reduce the amount needed), beat the eggs and whites till thoroughly mixed, and cook through. Stir as if making scrambled eggs, so the cooked egg is broken up. Remove from pan.

Add a little water to the pan, and briefly simmer the peas. Literally just for a minute. Make sure no water is left (drain if necessary) before removing from pan.

Heat another small amount of oil, crumbling in part of a chicken stock cube and adding five spice seasoning to taste. Fry off the chicken, and add soy sauce to taste before turning out of the pan.

Finally, add a little water to the pan, crumble in a little more chicken stock, and add five spice seasoning to taste. As soon as the water is near evaporated, add in the rice, and dry fry it to coat with the flavours. Add another splash of soy sauce if it needs it.

Mix all together and you’re done!

 

Obviously you can add other veg and seasonings (a little fresh ginger is heaven!), or substitute the chicken for another meat, but that’s the basic recipe I work with. I split it into six servings for my lunches, which works out at roughly 290 calories per portion. Way more interesting than the standard brown rice/chicken/egg white fare, without dropping any of the nutritional high notes!

 

No, really. What. The f… are you doing?!

Christian Finn linked to a fabulous blog post the other day about the increasingly bizarre things poorly qualified personal trainers get folk doing in the gym. You really do get to see a peculiar range of activities, from the hilarious to the downright terrifying. All, as astutely observed in the blog, largely carried out by people with less than enviable physiques.

At the other end of the scale, though generally with equally underwhelming results, are the people who could actually probably do with some form of personal trainer. Where the loonies wielding weights on balance boards and medicine balls generally make me chuckle, these others frustrate the hell out of me. Stranger still, is they exist at two opposing ends of the spectrum. Alas they also tend to have a fairly definite gender divide. So here it is…

 

Women! What. The fuck. Are you doing?!

I don’t know how to break this to you, especially when you’ve clearly gone to so much effort to get your hair and make-up “just so” before heading out, but getting in shape actually takes something more than simply showing up to the gym. Honestly? The only attention you’re getting pootling along on your exercise bike whilst reading a novel, or sauntering on the treadmill while texting your friends is a whole load of derisory sneers and the occasional infuriated glare from someone who actually wants to exercise on those machines. Want to impress gym goers? Ditch the make-up and start breaking a sweat!

As for those timid flowers who religiously make their way round every machine doing a squillion reps on the lowest setting possible… seriously, honey, you’ll get a better workout just picking up your handbag. Especially once it’s full of all the money you’re wasting! Look at the women with good physiques. Pretty much guaranteed they’re going all out on weights, and every one of them will assure you it’s a physical impossibility for you to bulk out by accident.

Guys! What. The fuck. Are you doing?!

Dude. Seriously. You’re lifting too heavy, your form is atrocious and the only reason everyone’s looking at you is because all the grunting and huge clanging crashes as you drop your weights after a set makes you out to be a grade A tosser who hasn’t the first clue what he’s doing. Try working on your form. I can almost guarantee you’ll get a humiliating drop in the amount of weight you can lift, but dear gods the results will be a thousand times more impressive. Then enjoy the admiring stares – the ones you’re getting right now are anything but!

Besides, having worked so hard on creating the body you want, why render yourself repulsive with bad manners? The grunts and crashes, aside from being a big neon “I don’t know what I’m doing” sign, are frankly just plain rude. As is crowding someone else who got to the piece of equipment you wanted first. Everyone’s paid the same fee to be there. Everyone has equal right to the equipment. Wait your turn. Wait it at a polite, respectful distance or, better yet, go off and do something else so they don’t feel rushed.

 

There’s nothing complicated about achieving a good workout. Underachieving or overreaching are every bit as pointless and ridiculous as the loony tunes bells and whistles approach!