Back in the garden the tadpoles had hatched and a large part of the day was spent walking up and then down from the pond to see how they were doing. A consensus built up that very few of us knew anything worth knowing around the younger lives of the frog. So we were left with that perpetual dilemma of the the wildlife film maker to interfere or to leave nature to do its worst. Here the frogspawn had hatched but all seemed becalmed on a slight ridge in the plastic. Some of the wriggled but some of them were still. I dragged a stick through the water and watched as some of them broke free no doubt to be consumed by the lone goldfish that lurked.

Later I started on the rhubarb vodka all courtesy of Diane Henry. Whatever rhubarb was bought has been washed and is maricating in a large glass jar with plenty of sugar. Tomorrow I will introduce vodka and leave for a few weeks before drinking.

We may not be in Ahakista but at least the weather is suitably Irish.

It is not raining as such but the air is filled with wet. A thin veil of low cloud, thick mist or soft  rain. Outside it touches everything, filming up my glasses and greying the air. The sky hangs low and heavy over us and then there is a sudden brightening as if the sun is fighting to burn through the murk but then it is gone and the grey deepens.

In the back of the grocers there were making a salad just like I made last Sunday for lunch – Nadir was sat in a chair and chopping the vegetables up with a knife into a plastic tub he had on his knees. A cucumber peeled and cut into chunks, a finely sliced red onion and quartered cherry tomatoes seasoned with lemon juice, olive oil and some chopped parsley. He told me I should be a chef but then if I did it all the time then that would be a job as well.

They had some good looking pink English rhubarb which I took to be a good excuse to make some rhubarb flavoured vodka.

Later we went into a wet Liverpool for lunch and art. We were scuppered with the art when it transpired that the Tate was closed and had to make do with some of the graffiti in the Baltic Triangle the the sight of The Anglican Cathedral shrouded in mist.

But lunch was good in The Baltic Social. I liked the menus clipped to old LP covers particularly when I found that mine that mine was an old Rod album – possibly the inner sleeve of Atlantic Crossing.

Beer on tap included Mad Hatter’s Penny Lane Pale Ale. With that around it didn’t matter too much the food was slow in coming and anyway I could play name that tune at what was playing in the background. I promised myself an extra pint if I was able to get them all but then stupidly stumbled over Radiohead and so made do with just the two pints.

Food was a thick burger in a brioche with bacon and chips which went down well with the pale ale.

Outside it was still wet but the rain wasn’t soft anymore and the wind whipped it into our faces as we walked back into town.

This time last year, Good Friday morning, we woke up in Ahakista having driven the way across Ireland overnight arriving at 5.00 in the morning as the fishermen were turning in at the pier for their days work. We tumbled into bed for a few hours and then woke up with the sun out and the view across the bay to Owen Island. Some of us made the trip over to Bantry Market to stock up on bacon and cheese and fish for the evening meal. We were there for the week.

This year we are staying in Birkenhead and it seems that everyone we know, friend and family, has gone away for the Easter weekend so this family of five is going to have to hunker down and be by itself at home for a few days.

I have plans that involve the planting of seeds and the making of more beer. The family does not seem to think that this will make for an interesting weekend.

We shall have to see if we are all talking to each other come Monday evening.

Next month the family is making its way down to Essex for the weekend on account of Cora having won the regional final of a speaking competition which is due to culminate in a national final sometime in May in Brentford. I am looking forward to the weekend in Essex but feel honour-bound to keep reminding the daughter that there is no carer in the law.

With the triumph half in mind I set about cooking for Sunday lunch something that would appeal.The obvious thing to have done would be to have made a vast plate of noodles with … with… no.. there would have been no need for anything else…noodles by themselves would have done.

So we had stuffed pitta bread instead. A favourite meal!

Cora would probably have been happy if she could have stuffed the pitta with a couple of pieces of fried chicken and some yogurt and cheese, but we did better than that.

In the International Store yesterday I had picked up a half leg of lamb off the bone. This was slathered in garlic, paprika and olive oil, left for an hour or so and then roasted for about the same time.

A mass of salad type ingredients was then chopped up fine including radish, red onion, rocket, garlic, cucumber and tomato. This was left to cool for an hour whilst the lamb was cooking.

I then made the falafels.