The Friendship Books by Francis Gay

I am a huge fan of the ‘Friendship Books, you know the ones you see in dusty charity shops all the time by Francis Gay.

I was given my first book by my mother in my 20s. I think they are a calming influence on a crazy day ahead. I decided to find out more about them when I contacted the publishers, D C Thomson.

“The first Friendship Book of Francis Gay, dated 1939, went on sale in 1938. There has been a Friendship Book each year since.

The Francis Gay Fund, originally the Coal Fund, began in a small way about forty years ago, when donations from readers were used to buy Christmas food parcels and bags of coal for needy people.

This has now grown to assist thousands of people all year round, in a number of ways.

As a working journalist seeking the best in people and finding it often in the least expected circumstances, his writing for many years provided comfort for many readers throughout the world.

Because he is no longer actively involved, his valuable work is carried on in his name by others who share his philosophy of life”.

The Gypsy Tart, the Kentish Phenomonen!

At work we have a ‘reluctant’ fitness club, mostly full of people who have little interest in sport at all unless they are ‘forced’ to go on a diet.

Of course, in order to encourage them, they need some kind of motivation at the end. so it  isn’t all slog and sweat.  One day, for example, it was a trip to a bazaar.  But lately, they have discovered the guilty pleasures of the Gypsy tart, found at the local village shop.  Though most of the group are not from the UK, they are now big fans.   The ‘Gypsy Tart Fitness Group’ continues to expand (forgive the fun). I wonder why! 

The Gypsy tart originates from Kent. In fact,  I remember having them for my school dinners in the 70.s  Although most will know the version of gypsy tart made with evaporated milk, it can also be made with condensed milk. This makes a firmer and even sweeter tart. The story behind this pie is that during the early part of the 20th century a lady regularly saw undernourished gypsy children playing in the fields next to her house. One say she decided to feed them but had nothing more than pie crust, evaporated milk and brown sugar.  What a great story and what a wonderful lady.

RECIPE

Prep time:

10 mins, plus 30 mins chilling time

Cook time:

Serves:

6

How to glaze pastry

Ingredients

For the pate sucree (makes 500g)

• 125g unsalted Butter
• 90g caster sugar
• 1 large Egg
• 250g plain flour
• 1 tbsp cold water

For the gypsy tart

• 300g (pate sucree) sweet shortcrust pastry
• 400g evaporated milk
• 330g dark brown sugar, preferably muscovado

 

Method

1. For the pate sucree: put the butter and caster sugar in a food processor and process until just combined. Add the egg and process for 30 seconds. Tip in the plain flour and process for a few seconds until the dough just comes together (do not over-process or it will become tough). Add the cold water if the dough seems dry.

2. Knead lightly on a floured surface then shape into a flat disc and chill for 30 minutes before rolling out.

3. For the gypsy tart: preheat the oven to 170C/Gas 3.

4. Roll out 300g of the pate sucree and use to line a 21cm tart tin. Line the pastry case with greasproof paper and fill with baking beans or dried haricot beans. Bake for 15 minutes or until the sides of the pastry have cooked through, then remove the baking beans and return to the oven for a further 5-10 minutes until the base is a pale golden brown and feels sandy to touch.

5. Meanwhile, whisk the milk and sugar together with an electric mixer until light and fluffy (about 15 minutes).

6. Pour the milk mixture into the pre-baked pastry case then cook for 5-10 minutes until risen and the surface is tacky.

7. Remove from oven and leave cool and set before serving.

Speedwatch

motorists, both young and old, speed at

sixty miles an hour on

forty mile per hour roads

passing schools

old people’s homes

and crossings by the Dome

all this comes to an end

as  Speedwatch volunteers

surround the bend

and penalty notices are swiftly penned

“I feel smoochie”

caked in eyeliner and mascara 

Amber liked what she saw

in the mirror;

by the front door

putting one hand on her hips

she pouted her  lips

like a Hollywood cutie

 purring ‘I feel smoooooochie’,

Amber’s on the pull?

Oh no, she’s getting ready for school.

Poem: “Many things are beautiful” Bereavement Poem

many things are beautiful;

even after death

this may be unbelievable

just after someone’s last breath

yet, many things are beautiful,

life goes on, in simple ways

maple leaves are delightful;

the colours never cease to amaze

a misty morning is blissful

not to mention the moon  overhead

many things are beautiful;

touching memories by the deathbed.

++++

Published Oct 2009

I wrote this because in bereavement it is hard to lose sight of beautiful things, at difficult times. I found nature very helpful in dealing with bereavement.  When my boyfriend died, I found nature particularly touching and I found that the moon connected our spirits.

Short Story: But Blue is Everywhere

Juliet was no ordinary teacher, she was an art therapist and helped people in traumatic situations recover through art.

Her latest post was different. It was at the Oaklands Nursing Home in Worthing, where her ‘students’ were ladies over eighty. She  was teaching them art and crafts two afternoons a week.  It was a new trial under the NHS.

Juliet saw an incredible change in their spirits  once they took up the course. Mildred, 70, for example, was very pale and listless when she first met her. She had lost her husband Joe two years ago and felt very depressed. The  agency staff used to leave her for hours on end sitting in her chair huddled under  her favourite blanket, looking at her photo album.  Yet, now Mildred was on this new  course there was no stopping her. Her old self was coming back. Whenever she could she read lots of ‘large print’ art books, even venturing into modern art to her surprise.

In fact, Juliet’s student’s work was in an inspiration; some of it was very good indeed and more students joined her..

One  afternoon in the summer, she suggested to them ‘a big challenge’, would they be up for it? They could take part in the West London Care Home Art  Project,  funded by the National Lottery.

They’d make a huge tapestry which would be made into a permanent fixture in the main hall of the Victoria & Albert Museum.  It was to show that art should be available to everyone.

The Project would take over two years  . Each student would need to sew several metres each of patchwork. They could do any design they wanted. It was entirely up to them.

She knew Mildred was a still a bit hopeless with the needle and thread, but she was keen to learn. Others like Margerie and Ursula were very good, having worked in a clothing factory up in  Liverpool.

The students were so enthusiastic that they decided to do it all on their own, even if their hands were very shaky and told Juliet that they will only show  their work at the unveiling. “Charming” thought Juliet.

The  ladies worked very hard together on their ‘secret project’. Sometimes they even forgot they had visitors coming.  Mildred even cancelled her daughter’s appointment, saying ‘she was busy.’ They said they planned to make the ’21st Century Bayeux Tapestry’. However, they had to bear in mind that not everyone was a whizz at sewing so they had to keep it simple.

Finally, two years later, the group sat right in the front row, with their wheelchairs  and blankets and watched  the unveiling of the  tapestry at Victoria & Albert Museum. The Director, himself, was going to present it. The Queen was going to but had to open a  TescoMetro instead on that day. The London press were there  and so was Brian Sewell, a leading art expert.

As the Director pulled the curtains, the audience fell silent and suddenly, after a gasp, one of the press exclaimed “But blue is everywhere, the tapestry all blue!”.

“That’s  an abstract tapestry for you” squeaked Mildred, ‘Blue, after all the swearing I did whilst I was making it”.

.Juliet, didn’t know where to look so she slid out the back, hoping no one would notice.

60 word fiction: The Ticket Inspector

Mervin was a ticket inspector in the 1920s.   He used to work on the Waterloo to Salisbury line in the age of steam. When he collected tickets, his face and clothes were often black because of the soot but the worst bit was the moaning from his wife as she had to clean all his mucky clothes.