My dad is now very frail (shuffling along, easily tired, deaf and very forgetful) and now needs a fair bit of care which, since he's insisting on staying up at Drumbuidhe, means me. For the past two years I've recruited volunteers from the workaway site to keep C company. This year his memory and temper mean that he can't be left alone with them and even some of the tasks have proved tricky. C had a panic attack driving the Discovery across the track and G, an italian volunteer, had to run the two miles back to the house to get me. Scary stuff for all concerned. I'm trying hard to get C back to Glasgow (the land of shops! cleaners! doctors! friends!) when I'm not up at Drumbuidhe with limited success so far.
When I am up Drumbuidhe looking after C is pretty full on. This weekend I had a stack of stuff to do in the garden (fruit tree pruning, planting out cavolo nero, feeding, clearing a bed for cima di rapa, scything the meadow) as well as beds to change and bedrooms to clean for the arrival of friends next month. Oh and admin for the forthcoming village summer party. What I actually ended up doing was the standard cleaning and cooking (which is heavy enough) alongside walking my dad down to the boat & pontoon; moving said boat and said pontoon; replacing the kitchen sink drain (including hacking out the effing silicon some unknown helper had blocked the overflow with); cleaning up after the replacement; entertaining the Lewises and their new farm manager (I was out at the end of the point, replacing our mooring but C can't make tea).
It's at times like this that I fall back on my defaults. Much as it pains me, a proper Scottish woman, to admit: I am rubbish at scones. So, for proper emergency cooking, shortbread it is. There are all sorts of variations (rice flour, lemon peel, semolina) but he basic Glasgow Cookey Book option is:
4 units flour
2 units butter
1 unit sugar
Mix, flatten and bake 'til just browned. Helpful with all sorts of situations including unexpected guests and panic attacks.
