Fed Up

One of the symptoms of my unwellness has been loss of appetite. Having read what the hospital recommends me to eat, my family has been doing their darnedest to feed me up and regain some weight. I feel like a pre-Christmas turkey sometimes.

When encouraged to go out for a meal I would chose a starter as my main course – and find myself still nibbling away when others were finishing their piled plates.

We don't eat out very often: it always seems more convenient to eat at home unless straying away for some reason. Of late, however, I have eaten out several times. I mentioned Mokka Bistro, with its Middle Eastern fare, in Jubilee Square a week or so ago – great food and great service.

I have now eaten three times at Horsell's new Indian restaurant, Versova, which opened in May. And every time I have been there it has been full; they have 50 covers but could squeeze in 60 for an event.

And whenever I mention “the new Indian” someone will say they have “been here already. And isn’t it good!”

On my most recent visit to Versova my appetite was back and I got through a main dish happily. But although it was not a spicy dish I have also found I can no longer enjoy spicy food as much as I used to.

And when the manager noticed my streaming eyes – their default position – he presented me with a little dish of raita (pomegranate yogurt) which not only soothed my taste buds but pleased them.

Another gesture was the waitress noticing we had not quite managed all our food and asking if we would like to take it with us. Years ago there was embarrassment in asking for a doggie bag, as if one was admitting to poverty, despite the fact one was only taking what one had paid for.

And, of course, encouraging customers to take a doggie bag considerably reduces food waste.

That change of dining-out etiquette leads to another. Whilst we were in the restaurant there were a couple of tables celebrating birthdays with the usual song.

I could not see whether they had supplied their own cakes, a subject I touched on recently on this page. I later asked Shahab Ali – it’s his place - his thoughts on this and he said that anything which makes his customers happy is all right with him.

Indeed, with prior notice, the restaurant will supply “a little something” for the party table, made in house by the chef.

Versova is open every day except Mondays with dinner served between 5.30pm and 10.30pm, and brunch between noon and 2.30pm. They do takeaway as well and suggest Sunday Roast Indian Style between 12.30pm and 3pm.

Shahab tells me he will be opening another restaurant in St John’s – watch this space!

How Are You?

This is the usual British way of greeting someone. Recently I have had cause to reply “I'm fine, apart from the cancer. How are you?”

This lets my friend know that I am not quite A1 but I have put the ball back in their court by enquiring about their health. Some people get embarrassed by a truthful reply to that simple “How are you?” and I have found this phrase to work.

After one of my Friday morning gossip gatherings at St Mary's Church, Horsell, I almost literally bumped into the Rev Dmitry Lutsenko who enquired, naturally, about my health and reminded me that my name is on the Pray For list in the church.

I thanked him for that and asked that he should include prayers for the carers of those on the list – my daughters have been quite amazing over these last few months.

I did not realise just how much “secretarial” work, for my carers, is involved in hospital treatment.

Fr Alexis at the Saint Edward Brotherhood, Brookwood, also assures me of his prayers. Monevra Syed of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community sends me good wishes for my health. She also sends Eid greetings at the appropriate times.

My friends from the Open the Book team, which takes Bible stories into schools, say they are missing me and wish me well.

I have a lot of prayers for me. I am certain they help.

Mists and Mushrooms

The fact that 5 October was UK Fungus Day had passed me by but Horsell Common Preservation Society (HCPS) knew and organised a fungus walk for members for that day.

We met at the Sandy Track car park, which is for members only. Although wet weather footwear was necessary, walking boots were not as we only had to amble a short distance along the track before spying fungi.

Evidently there are some 15,000 species in Britain, at least 6,000 of which are known in Surrey ranging from brackets almost a metre wide to dots barely visible to the naked eye.

We followed the track eastwards, straying a little way off to either side and barely getting a hundred yards from the car park in two hours – so those hiking boots were not required.

Like children we searched and yelped excitedly at some of the finds, showing them to Richard Alder, who was leading the group and telling us about the mysterious, and vital, fungi.

When trees fall, or are felled, there are those who cry out for the common to be tidied up. Some of the felled wood goes to Heather Farm and is chipped to be used in the biomass boiler and cut branches are being used to make dead hedging along parts of the river banks to prevent erosion. Some wood is left to rot, aided by fungi of various sorts, kinds, and colours.

In some places we found pieces of wood which looked as though they had been dumped for they seemed to show signs of blue paint. No, that's a fungus, just like the ash wash found on the tree looking as though someone was painting trees to show a route. No, another fungi.

There were bracket fungi on birch trees so neatly staged from side to side they looked as though they had been designed as climbing aid to the tree top. They all have long Latin names but the old names tell more, at least to me.

Jelly Ear dangled from an elder trunk, and it does look like a sliced-off ear and has a pliable feel to it. The Common Rustgill has golden caps and there were plenty of them under the pines while some birch logs were harbouring the little bright Green Elf Cup.

There was more colour in the Amethyst Deceiver on a pine stump by the car park. The attractive Sulphur Tuft is harmless but often mistaken for the dreaded Honey Fungus.

We eventually found the familiar red, white spotted Fly Agaric and its relative The Blusher and the uncommon silky-white Bluespot Knight. Altogether we found around 30 species, more than enough to demonstrate the variety of the magic of fungi on our doorstep.

Caroline Hughes, of HCPS, showed the group some examples of the deadly poisonous Death Cap which had been gathered from a site where they were abundant within five miles of the common, hoping to convince us of the dangers that inexperienced people run when gathering mushroom for the pot.

I certainly learnt some lessons: Don’t tidy up all fallen trees. Don’t believe those who tell you that any fungi with dark gills is safe to eat. Don’t believe anyone who tells you that any fungi with light gills is safe to eat. There have been too may examples of experienced mushroom gatherers poisoning themselves.

Richard Alder suggested the safest way is to gather your mushrooms from a well-known supermarket. And whilst searching for fungi, a camera and hand sanitiser will both be useful.

In the Wet

That’s the title of an exciting book by Nevil Shute, who used to work at Brooklands.

It is also a timely warning. Did you known that from Monday 14 October it is Flood Action Week? Evidently around 5.5 million homes and businesses in England are at risk of flooding.

Yet still land which has been known for generations as flood plain is still being built on. I do wonder who is culpable for the resulting flood damage? Surveyors? Local councils giving building permission? Greedy building companies? Foolish buyers?

Wherever the blame lies don't assume it won't happen to you. There is practical advice to be had on line: search Prepare for Flooding Woking.

That very date is ominous: 14 October 1066 and the threat was from across the water not down from the skies or up from the rivers.

Brockhill

The first time I became aware of Brockhill was in 1992 when I was taking part in Changing Places, the community play especially written for Woking by Ann Jellicoe.

One of her characters is Hetty West, nee Sturt, based on a genuine Woking resident. Her granddaughter Liz says “Do you ever wish you were back there?” To which Hetty replies “47 West Street? I dunno. I got my pension, my lovely little flat in Brockhill...”

Constructed in the late 1980s, Brockhill was a purpose-built sheltered housing scheme comprising of 48 self-contained apartments. Hetty would have been very comfortable there.

Then, just last year, we learnt that “Brockhill residents are to be consulted about the proposed closure of the extra care sheltered housing scheme in Goldsworth Park”.

Reasons offered were that to operate safely the building required urgent fire safety remedial works and a heating upgrade with costs estimated at £2.75m. Now I am very naïve on such things but I would have thought that “regular housekeeping” of such a valuable building would have sorted such problems before they arose.

We know the sayings about mending the roof when it is not raining and that stitches in time save nine. Woking Borough Council was not feeling the pinch, a least not so painfully, during all those years from the late 1980s, so who did not keep their eye on the ball, or on the heating or on the health and safety list?

I suspect it was a committee, which can mean any complaints have to do the rounds until they land at the desk of one person who can say yes or no.

The Emmanuel Church, in Saunders Lane, Mayford, holds a monthly coffee morning. Coffee, cake and a chat and I pretend I am only going for the last of these but the welcome and home-made cakes are most acceptable.

On my last visit there was a Bustler bus in the small car park and I just missed chatting to the lady who had come to the church via that most useful of local services. She is one, I think, of just four residents left in Brockhill.

This led to some very serious chat over the coffee. Waste of a very valuable asset was the main theme with underlying wondering as to whom is going to gain, financially, from the outcome.