New Years Eve and one child was out. The other two were asked what they would really like to eat and both said pasta with tomato sauce. So that is what we ate.I spiced up the sauce with red peppers and capers, olives and chilli and when the verdict came through it was declared a good one.

So as not to miss out on what we all really wanted to eat I made myself a few platefuls of good seafood as follows:-

– four oysters, shucked

– a dozen prawns, peeled and fried in very hot oil with plenty of garlic, salt and pepper

– 2 scallops fried in bacon fat with crispy bacon

– half a dozen large clams cooked in white wine with garlic and parsley.

All very good – especially with the bottle of Orval.

Having polished that lot off we went on a search round the house looking for a cocktail shaker. It was eventually found in the attic. But before then we had to turnover the basement during the course of which we came over a few boxes of beer glasses and my collection of chopsticks.

New Year’s Day and we are entertaining so an industrial amount of falafel mixture has been made. Falafel become a lot more straightforward when you realise that what you should be using is dried chickpeas that have been soaked over night and left at that.

To the soaked chickpeas I added chopped dill, parsley and coriander, pulped garlic, crushed coriander and cumin seeds.

This all goes into the Magimix until you are left with a rich green sludge which should have the consistency of cream cheese.

I may need some help with the frying of them later.

Having done that I rewarded myself with a thick Gubbeen Bacon Sandwich.

Without really trying the barrel of homebrew has been substantially dimished. About half of it has gone and there have been a few muttered complaints that it isn’t as good as it was a few days ago. Presumably that means we will have to finish it off.

In the meantime on a forage around the basement I came across a couple of beers. The banana next to the Leffe is there to provide a precise indication of its size. Unfortunately the drink before date was sometime back in 1998 and so whilst I am sure the beer will still be okay there is a reluctance to open the bottle up a face the inevitable disappointment.

By way of contrast the drink by date on the bottle of Chouffe is end of 2014. So I only have a few days to finish it off!

Outside the ground is still hard with frost and snow and inside the nascent artist in the family has been working off excess energy by getting to grips with paint, sea and air.

The Boxing Day walk was a fairly modest affair. The cars were parked in the small car park at the end of Green Lane. From there we walked through the dunes to the sea.

The tide was in and there were only a few patches of sand. At the waters edge there were hundreds of shattered razor clams. Most of the birds were out at sea and all we saw were a few magpies and crows and one small oyster catcher that flew away as soon as we got close.

The weather was grey and heavy with flecks of rain coming in off the sea.

Having done the walk we tried for a pub. Our first effort, Gallaghers, was a failure as one of us confessed to the age of one of the children and I just had time to start admiring the range of good beer they had set up on the bar before we were regretfully shown the door. But a hundred yards away was The Swinger Arm. On their bar all the taps were turned round – they had run out of the cask ales. So we settled down to pints of Guinness and Erdinger admiring the fine view across the Mersey.

There is something medieval in the way that The Anglican Cathedral dominates the skyline. Driving around the Wirral it can appear unexpectedly through a gap between trees  and in Birkenhead it looms like some guilty conscious reminding us to be good.

Back home we lit a fire as it started to snow and I made coleslaw to eat with the cold capon and ham and roast potatoes.

We have a new bench in the house.

It arrived Tuesday evening on the back of a van that had come from somewhere in Belgium. It then spent 48 hours in the basement before being assembled this morning.

It is looking very smart in the kitchen although it will make itself useful outside at some point. Perhaps when the snow has melted.

In the meantime Christmas has been and gone and we have in the basement a large plate of cold capon.

Is there any better job for a man than picking the meat from a roasted bird. A small sharp knife is essential but then it is all a master of nimble fingers and picking away at the bones until there is nothing left. This one had been stuffed with dried figs and cherries, walnuts and onions, and a good few dashes of San Miguel. Cook’s treats were a suck at the bones.