Plumstead Pie

Once upon a time

Once upon a time when I was young I lived in England for a couple of years and learned to cook lovely dishes from the cook in the kitchen of Little Plumstead Hospital.

One of the things he taught me was how to make a proper pie, usually his own inventions which he regularly changed over the course of time.

 

 

So what is Plumstead Pie exactly?

Plumstead Pie is an oven dish and not difficult to make but it will take you quite some time to prepare it so take your time in the kitchen.

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Why I love those places

This is my poetic memory of Little Plumstead Hospital where I once lived and worked.

It is why I love those places
For those familiar faces
The smell of rotting leaves
Or the coach from Neaves
The custard
Back yard
Pints of ale
The boiler room wall gone pale
Sun on the bowl green
A double decker bus
To a town you’ve never seen
In Spring, the sea side crabs
Medieval slabs
On a street
Where people greet
And evenings are supposed to be long
Never on your own, so no one is alone
A Christmas cracker
Another shiny red double decker
Crying for a hymn in church is touching the sky
Beyond the tall cathedral tower
A lukewarm Summer shower
Custard in a bowl
Toad in a hole
Red brick walls
Bridges in the country side
With little falls
A pint a pound
That railway station
Lost and found
A chest of drawers full of clothes
An old hall corner
Where the wind eternally blows
Those Autumn leaves will go away
Untill the skies are grey in Winter
O Holy Night sung by a choir
In knitted jumpers, all round a fire
A little eggnog
Piece of choc
The church clock will chime
And most of all friends can be enclosed
In warm embrace, til the end of time

Hospital Road

This is the corner of Hospital Road, behind me in this picture is Water Lane coming from Great Plumstead and if you go left here you’re on Broad Lane to Thorpe End.

When it rained this corner was usually flooded and I had to go through 10 to 20 inches of water, getting my feet wet on my pushbike.

But it is a happy memory, I remember going down the road to the local supermarket on numerous occasions, buying Bacon and Beans, Minced Meat or Frozen Peas for Tea.

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My favourite subject

I can’t help myself but other than most people my favourite subject is Autumn, specifically Autumn in England. I have no logical explanation for this, maybe it has something to do with a how I felt decades ago living in Old Hall in England. Then again, Autumn in this place is equally wonderful and happy.

A few years ago I wrote this poem, Why I love those places. It may also be connected to this feeling of excitement, a gut feeling so to speak as it was then and it is like that again my current mood and I like it. Thinking back after nearly thirty years of those times I was young and free doesn’t make me sad, they are very strong and happy memories.

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Off to the pub

Where shall we go for a drink tonight?
Shall we go for a few in The White Horse in Crostwick
Or have one in The Fur and Feather in Woodbastwick quick
It was then when the idea started to nestle in Netty’s head
That we should get a pint in The White Horse Inn in Neatishead
But did you just say this evening it is my turn
For a few more rounds in The Lion in Thurne
Maybe it is the right time for one with a frothy head
In The Brick Kilns, that pretty pink pub in Little Plumstead
But if you can’t decide please let it then be
The Never Turn Back in (or from) Caister-On-Sea
Should we have a lovely pint this evening instead
In the Irstead Staithe in the center of, surprise … in Irstead
Or we might as well stay and drink with friends for good
Til the end of times in The King’s Head in Lingwood

Listen to the peace

When I first heard of him I was living in England at the time. I was going through a difficult time, discovering who I really was.

But I was also experiencing new friendships in a totally different environment compared to where I grew up. It is important I tell you about the setting as you will understand how much this meant for me.

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When I fall

When I fall
Will you be the one that picks me up
And if it happens again
Are you the one to tell me what I’m doing wrong
Even if I’m incapable of learning
Or ignorant and angry because of my own mistakes
Will you help me on my feet over and over again
Or do I look up one day and see you standing there
With all the others laughing at my autistic awkwardness
Still not understanding how my brain works

That car is a sedan

He didn’t understand the outside world
What was in fact the world outside his head
As if he knew what “You’re an autist” meant
He just liked to put things in straight lines
Like his toy cars on a Sunday afternoon
They never asked him why he liked it so much
And they never ever understood his game
No! No! No! Not there! That car is a Sedan!