I met yet another mother yesterday at her wits end because her child had decided to become a vegan.  How do they do it?  Having been slaves to them as babies – thank you, Penelope Leach – driven halfway to the Moon and back ferrying them to football and ballet and archery and (Cont on page 94) we enjoyed a brief respite when they went to university; an all-too tiny glimpse of the sunlit uplands of how we imagined our later years.

Then like the terminator they were back. Oh, they might boomerang in and out for a couple of years before they fully realised that nothing could ever compare to the comfort and luxury of their childhood home, or compete with it in terms of cost.  Battle hardened by over twenty years of parenting we did the only thing possible and pretty much ignored them and their revenge has been veganism.

We have grown used to being blamed for all the ills in the world; all grown ups are fascists, racists, colonialists, property owners (Cont on page. 94) but to add to our sins it turns out we are now meat eaters, the source of all that was, is and ever will be wrong with the world.  Does no-one else think it odd that so perfect and liberal a generation cannot tolerate anybody who is different?

We must agree with their politics, their disdain of alcohol and now their rejection of meat.  Happily vegan wine is available – who knew it was made from cows? – but kiss goodbye to everything else you’ve ever enjoyed because it’s not just the joy of a bacon sandwich that’s verboten although that is a pretty good example.  Bacon – bad, bread bad (contains dead yeast) and butter very, very bad – all those poor cows being milked.  (I wonder where they stand on breast feeding, come to that?). So no cheese either.  Or Cadbury’s Creme Eggs which were discovered in my home.  Contain gelatine apparently, aka dead baby cow.  OUT. NOW.

So for mother’s everywhere here is another tiny straw to clutch at – an inadvertently vegan recipe.

Chop up some carrots, cover with water and boil till soft.  Allow to cool.  Mix in two dollops of grated ginger and a tin of coconut milk.  Liquidise, re-heat at leisure and eat.  But don’t serve with toast.  You’re not that stupid.

 

… you mighty and despair.  A quote from Mr Shelley in his poem about the fleeting nature of power and fame which brings us with a single, unusually efficient leap to the Baftas.  Results to be announced tonight.  I spend the early part of every year, when I’m not folding a la Kondo,  catching up with all the BAFTA and Oscar nominations and I’m spending the early part of today giving you my top tips so that you can nip down the bookies and get a bet on.  Although you’ve probably got an app that put bets on for you before the nominations were even announced.

So, in no particular order:

Best supporting actress:  I would say Amy Adams for Vice but this being Britain it will probably be Rachel Weisz for ‘The Favourite’, which those of you who read my review at the time might recall was long on corridors and short on plot.

Best supporting actor: I expect this will be Richard E. Grant for ‘Can you ever forgive me?’.  He was born to play the part but having re-watched ‘Withnail And I’ yesterday, it’s pretty much a more nuanced re-run of that part, although the judges are probably too young to have seen the original, bless ‘em.

Best actress:  This will go to Olivia Coleman or there will be a riot but it should be a close run thing with Glenn Close for ‘The Wife’.  It’s certainly a better film.

Best actor:  The Hollywood clout will probably swing it for Christian Bale for ‘Vice’ ( As in President, you muppet, not porn) but Steve Coogan’s performance in ‘Stan and Olly’ merits a serious mention.  Put a fiver on each way.  He must come second.

Best film: Byseveral furlongs this has to be ‘Roma’, an absolute treat for anyone who loves cinema, and it should scoop best film and best director for Alfonso Charon.  Let’s hope it’s not robbed by xenophobic support for ‘The Favourite’.  The Bafta’s have always seemed more thoughtful than the Oscars and I hope they don’t let us down.

I went to the opening of the Don McCullin exhibition this week and was appalled to discover afterwards  that only one person I spoke to about it had even heard of him.  (The legendary war photographer, just in case…). The one person who had knew his work had had a similar shock recently discovering that younger folk had not heard of Marlon Brando.  How fleeting is fame even for the best?  Despair, reader, despair.

 

Probably. Certainly, according to trustworthy Radio 4 but clearly I’m not even going to draw the curtains, never mind venture out there and damage any of my beautiful pairs of boots.  That part of winter defined as Stay Under Your Duvet Darling has arrived and as you are not here to be offered gin, sadly, let me give you some advice.

My mission to totally ‘Kondo’ my house continues at speed and opaque tights have been in the firing line.  However,  even rolled and arranged in regimental rows it is still impossible to distinguish black from navy first thing in the morning.  And thank you for that very obvious suggestion but what lady over the age of 30 wants unforgiving overhead lighting in any room, least of all the boudoir?  And not for reasons of personal vanity but because surely no-one wants to see who their current lover is before coffee and a fag.    Solution?  Stitch a little length of red thread into the waistband of the black ones.  Sorted!  And while we’re here invest some money in buying Wolsey tights.  It is a classic example of ‘You get what you pay for’.

Now onto something more heartwarming and in my new mode of inclusiveness even Vegans can eat it!  I refer to parsnip soup which even a moment’s research will reveal was, without doubt,  what is referred to as ‘The food of the Gods’ in classical literature.

Take about ten parsnips, peel and slice in half lengthways.  (Get them delivered.  Going out will defeat the whole purpose of staying warm and cosy).  Roast in a hot oven for 40 minutes; in goose fat for the true epicure, vegetable oil for the rest.  They should have a good colour.  Chop and fry an onion until lightly browned, add half a chopped apple – I would suggest a cooking apple, parsnips being sweet enough already – and give them a minute of two.  Add the chopped, roasted parsnips, lots of chopped parsley, a pint of vegetable stock and seasoning.  After about 15 minutes remove from heat, add milk – vegans can use oatmeal milk which would actually work rather well – and blend.

If possible leave to the next day to let the flavours infuse but I tend to scoff it straight from the blender.  Cold outside baby but toasty and delicious inside.  Enjoy!