No Need to Fuss

I grew up as a fussy eater. Even though I consider myself to have a very varied diet these days and even, sometimes, adventurous, I can't shake that reputation as a fussy eater. It still follows me around.

In truth, the fussiest thing about me is my dislike for condiment sauces, such as ketchup, brown sauce, mayonnaise, salad cream, mustard etc (I like BBQ sauce). This may seem like such a small thing until you try to buy a pre-made sandwich!!

It can also be a big thing when going to someone's house for dinner as many dinner sauces (whether it's a marie rose sauce or a hollandaise) tend to be made with mayonnaise (I'm happy to eat mustard based sauces).

Anyway, I thought I would share some tales from my truly fussy days.

When I was about 9, I went on holiday with my parents to (former) Yugoslavia (now Croatia). Being a country that was recovering from war, the Yugoslavians tried very hard with their tourism. They tried to cater for the tourists in the usual style of burgers, pastas, pizzas but with a more touching way than you see in many tourist locations you get today. It really felt like they were trying to please. Unfortunately, they hadn't accounted for me! I didn't eat burgers because they usually got made with onions in the mix and I didn't like onions. I didn't eat pizza or pasta dishes like spaghetti bolognaise because I didn't like tomatoes. I didn't like fish. I did like plain meat like chicken and pork but, again, without any sauce.

To ensure I ate, my mum would cook me tea before we went out for dinner in the evening. My tea was a bowl of chicken noodle soup made from a packet. This was pretty much my diet for 2 weeks, along with a few chips and ice-cream - oh and a domestic sausage! (an interesting translation of homemade sausage).

You may think my mum was wrong to give in so easily to my whims! My aunt couldn't believe it but my mum said we were all on holiday and at least she knew I had eaten.

I actually tried it again today for the first time in years - it tasted like a bowl of dissolved chicken stock cube! I now can't believe I preferred that to everything else I refused in Yugoslavia.

Back home, my mum was never 'soft' when it came to eating.

Take everyone's favourite dislike, brussel sprouts! I actually like brussels now and don't think you can make a decent bubble 'n' squeak without it! But back in my childhood days, I hadn't yet acquired that taste. On a Sunday Roast day, my dinner would be dished up - the following would be a worst case scenario:

• Fatty, overcooked (in my now adult opinion), chewy roast lamb
• Roast potatoes (yum)
• Parsnips disguised as potatoes (just cruel to do that to a child!)
• Boiled carrots
• Boiled brussel sprouts of which there were 5 (the number is important)
• Gravy

Out of this dinner, the only things I disliked were the lamb, parsnips and sprouts and even the lamb would've been fine if it was another meat - or even cooked differently! And I'd eat the lamb until I hit on a piece that involved me chewing for 20 minutes. 

I'd be leisurely munching through my dinner then would come, from my mum 

"why aren't you eating your sprouts?"

"I don't like sprouts"

"Just eat 3"

"but I don't li..."

"eat 4!"

"but muuuu"

"eat 5!"

"muuuuum, I don't li"

"I'll start adding them on then, you'll eat 6".

Inevitably, I ate 3.

Then I'd bite into what I thought was a delicious looking potato "Yeurgh! What's this?" - it looked liked a potato, the same crispy golden skin but when I bit into it expecting delicious potatoey flavour, instead I got a horrid sweet taste. I like parsnips now...thanks to Jamie Oliver and his delicious bacon and maple syrup recipe, but think I would've liked them a lot sooner if my mum hadn't tried to disguise them. Your mouth expects one flavour and is then assaulted with another. It's never going to work!

That said...there were occasions when her sneakyness did catch me out! Tomato soup for example! You'll remember I didn't like tomatoes and that included tomato soup! My mum, struggling to make enough soup for my sister and me decided to mix together some cream of tomato with some cream of chicken. My mum eventually convinced me to try it saying it was different. I liked it and ate it. So then on she would tell me she was mixing together the two flavours but only ever giving me to the cream of tomato.

My dad could never understand my fussiness. Everyone else in the family were 'good' eaters. There were a few random dislikes, like my sister not liking cream or sausages, but generally everyone ate what they were given. I therefore became known as Debbie Don't Like! Anytime, my dad heard there was something new I didn't like, he'd question me about it then "oh it's Debbie Don't Like again". Even if it was the same thing I had said I didn't like last week, he would start again.

The biggest 'cure' to my fussiness was peer pressure as I reached adulthood (going to people's houses for dinner) and then I bravely volunteered to join the Entertainment Committee at work. I knew I was fussy but I had a good idea of what 'normal' people liked and disliked so would choose a menu for them and not myself. On the actual night, I would choose the least revolting sounding dish from the selected menu and was often pleasantly surprised when it turned up and I liked it. My tastes grew and I got more adventurous. 

It is no wonder, I've learnt from their mistakes and was determined my children wouldn't be fussy like I was. It is highly likely, if they had just let me be and I was introduced to new tastes in my own time then I probably would've had a very different attitude to food.

But I guess, I turned out alright in the end :o).

Our Story – How We Met

Today, Stuart and I have been married for 6 years. Not a special anniversary though every anniversary, of course, is special for us as it is a celebration of our relationship.

I just wanted to reflect back on the day we tied the not but also over the past 6 years and firstly a how we got together. So this is Part 1 of our story, how we met.

I met Stuart through a mutual friend, Sparky, back in (as Stuart calls it) the Summer of Love in 2003. It was a gorgeous summer – the sun shone for much of it throughout June and July and we were both social little bunnies sampling the delights that London had to offer. Stuart lived in Wood Green  with a couple of friends, James & Phil, and I lived in Balham with my friend Drew, and then Claire and Jan.

The first time we met was when he was with his then girlfriend and we went to a club. To be honest, we didn’t spend much time together and because he had a girlfriend I didn’t give him much thought. We spent the night dancing in separate rooms of the club…me with my broken arm in a pink cast following a football incident (back then I played five a side football and had the position of goalie for my fearless throwing myself after the ball and menacing tiger like growl!!! he he).

We met a couple of other times after that when out and I became aware that him and his girlfriend had ‘separated’ – she had gone back home to Switzerland so they could have some space – so I may have flirted a bit! He was oblivious to my ‘charms’ so I flirted a bit more. Nope, nothing! So I gave up!

I then had work drinks and Sparky had been invited along (it was a relaxed affair and many of my work colleagues were my outside of work friends too) and Sparky invited Stuart. We bonded a bit more as he smoked the same cigarettes I used to smoke (menthol Marlborough lights) and started smoking again that night! He had a rotten cold so I told him there were 3 things that cured a cold! I’d like to point out that at this point I wasn’t flirting, I had given up on that and was just chatting to him as I would any friend. I told him the 3 cures…one I will not say, the other two were alcohol and sex! Apparently, he told me later, he thought I was then flirting! Typical me…try and you get no where, don’t try and…it all happens! We all got drunk! Very drunk! I invited Sparky and Stuart back to mine. After a bit more drinking…and smoking…Sparky retired to bed and that left Stuart and I…we did more than just drinking and smoking!!!!

I woke the next morning on my bedroom floor wearing different clothes to what I’d started in the night before!!!!

I’d said goodbye to Stuart and Sparky and, to be honest, didn’t think much of it. Thought it was just a drunken one night stand.

I was actually off work at the time because of my broken arm so used to go to an internet cafe to check emails. Stuart and I exchanged a few regarding that night, me joking that I couldn’t remember it and him saying was it that bad etc! Then it became apparent that he was interested in more than just a one night stand. I was off to a dance festival with Sparky and some other friends that weekend in Derbyshire but Stuart hadn’t got tickets.

Once we were there, we heard that Stuart and James had got tickets and were on their way! Stuart and I ‘secretly’ wondered off together to talk about stuff. I wasn’t sure on the state of his relationship with his girlfriend. She was in Switzerland and they were ‘on a break’ but was that in a ‘we intend to get back together’ break or ‘we are just stretching out the painful process of finally splitting up’. They had been on-off for a while so I wanted to be sure & didn’t want to be the cause of the break up…though suppose I should’ve thought of that a bit earlier than now! He assured me that it was definitely over this time and he had no intention of getting back together. So we snogged, went on a ride (of the theme park variety – there was no funny business at the festival!! what kind of girl do you  think I am…oh yeah, one that gets drunk and sleeps with boys in one night stands!!!). We then rejoined the group. We both remember a funny moment in the night when a random girl came over and stroked Stuart’s (then) very fit chest! Ha ha!

A couple of days later we went on our first date, on 28 July! We went to Fuel at Covent Garden. I’d been out during the day at Tate Modern with a friend and had turned up considerably late! Oops! But he had waited and we had a lovely time. I laid my cards on the table. I knew he had just come out of a long relationship so may not be up for anything serious. I, on the other hand, had had enough of seeing people for a month or two and the relationship never really going anywhere so was ready for something more serious. So I said to him, if he wanted to go and have a bit of fun first, we could perhaps pick up again in a few months if we were both still single, then that was ok with me but I wasn’t getting into another relationship unless I expected it to go somewhere. He reassured me that he wasn’t interested in doing that and he was ready for a serious relationship with me! I then wondered why I hadn’t tried that approach with the other guys I had dated…it would have solved a lot of bother and silly games!

So that was the beginning of us. Other than a week shortly after when he went to Ibiza with friends we saw each other every day. Stuart started declaring his love for me after just a month or two (which damn near sent me running) and then he moved in with myself, Claire and Jan after 2 months. By Christmas, people were running bets on us as to when Stuart would propose. We moved into our own rented house after about 6 months and then, on our year anniversary, Stuart proposed. No one won the bet!

Part 2, our wedding, coming soon!

April Showers

After my miserable winter blues, it may surprise you to hear, I’m not adverse to a bit of rain once in a while. In fact, I quite enjoy it. It has to be a proper full on downpour, mind you, none of that horrible dreary, hardly-raining-but-soaks-you-right-through-kind-of-rain, and you can’t beat an electrical storm. The best storm I’ve ever seen was when I drove down to the seafront in Barton-on-Sea, Hampshire and watched it coming in across the sea from the Isle of White. Amazing! As long as I feel ‘safe’, I think they are great. I do get a little “eek!” as they get ever closer, but when you see the forks across the dark sky, it turns to “eee” in excitement.

Then after the rain everything has been refreshed like its been cleansed. All green and lush looking again, and the smell…it reminds me of when I was younger when we went on holiday in the caravan at Easter – it always rained! Not much fun when you are about 10 and stuck in a caravan playing cards listening to the drumming of the rain on the caravan roof, but when you got up in the morning, that fresh rain smell was so lovely. Most of the time, despite the rain, the caravan memories are happy ones.That’s why I love being taken back to those times like I am whenever it rains.

There is also something quite comforting when the seasons behave themselves and the weather actually happens when you expect it to – snow in January, April showers and, with a bit of luck, sun throughout June, July, August & September! Well, I can hope!

Then there are the summer rain storms. The ones after a very hot sticky day that make you want to go and dance around naked in them…though that might just be me…..! I remember when I was a teenager feeling a bit blue for some unknown reason. but as teenagers do (hormones!), and getting caught in a torrential downpour on the 5 minute walk from my aunt’s house to ours. I enjoyed it so much I took a slow walk around the block in it and felt so alive. It really lifted my mood. I was drenched through but happy again!

So yes, I do like the odd spot of rain once in a while. Just as long as, after the rain, comes the sun again!