cooking horses and missing cats

Cooking

I'm crappier than the crappiest cook ever born. I don't even have the excuse of not liking it, I do quite, although I'm fairly disillusioned with the whole business; never yet having managed to produce anything worthy of being called edible and having been doing it now for nigh on 25 years. I suffer from CIADD (Cooking Induced Attention Deficiency Disorder) and this is a very real affliction!
Which brings me to why I'm boring with this topic yet again. Next Saturday (25) we have a trial by dinner party yet again, and I want to know foolproof (the emphasis on fool) dishes that look impressive that I can produce - PLEASE. There will be only the 4 of us and I have nearly a week to accumulate the ingredients, please help me please please help me.

The last time we had an 'important' (they're all important according to Himself!) Indian gentleman and for some reason that I cannot fathom now, I decided to attempt a curry (I amaze myself at how dim I am sometimes). The recipe called for all manner of exotic stuff but I was only stumped by the coconut cream (I do live in the middle of nowhere, not as middle of nowhere as Malc, but fairly devoid of exoticism, ingredients-wise anyway) so I bought a tin of coconut milk.

At the point of introducing the cream/milk to the concoction, Himself and Raj (the 'important' Indian guest) arrived unexpectedly early and I was so thrown by this I tipped the whole tin of milk into the pan instead of the correct quantity which, if memory serves, was about a quarter.
The various ingredients bobbed about in the liquid like lumpy soup, needless to say my attempts to reduce the milk were equally unsuccessful and rendered the whole conglomeration tasteless. When I finally served it up, Raj took a mouthful and then said.
"My wife is an excellent cook, if you want to know how to cook curry I will ask her to send you some instructions."

Bastard.

Horses

The above photos are of Freddie. The top one last year and the other yesterday. He's a very little horse with a very big attitude. Fern and Suze, my other two, are fairly laid back and can't really be bothered to get excited over anything except lunch (well they are ladies) but Freddie has an opinion on everything. I have to admit that my horsey knowledge is meager, and whilst I strive to do my best for them, it is undoubtedly double difficult for them to understand what I wish of them when I have trouble expressing it in horse-talk.

I have had Freddie and Fern since they were 6 months old. The were born wild on the New Forest and came straight from Forest to me, wild and untouched, (except for being caught and transported which must have been traumatic and frightening for them). They are now rising 3. When I get to each step in their 'training' I go to an expert to show me (and them) what to do. This has worked well - ish. The trouble with experts is they always make things look easy, and indeed, with them there, it is easy, but the minute they've gone it's difficult to remember what to do. I obviously suffer from HIADD as well as CIADD. What I have taken on board is the need to move them around and not them move me. Fern (and Suze, who knew this from a previous life) grasped this fairly fast and I can move them about. They seem to believe that I'm in charge and they trust that I know what I'm doing (and importantly, from a horsey point of view, believe I can keep predators at bay). Freddie has taken much longer to believe in me, and who can blame him? He has very good reason to doubt my ability to save him from tigers. Slowly, slowly we have been working on very little steps. As soon as he understands and does what I ask, I stop. He thinks about it over night and the next day he does it straight away. I have no idea why this is so, but we have come to an understanding that this is the way it's done.

Last week he got something in his eye and it started to weep. Would he let me look? You must be joking. I fetched his head collar and put my hand over his eye, the minute he kept still I took it away and we left it for the night. The next day, headcollar on and he let me investigate. It didn't look too bad so I fetch something to bathe it with and he took exception. I held the cloth to his eye and once he stop jiggling I took it away and the next day I put his headcollar on and I could bathe it. He was as good as gold and the eye was nearly better. The following day I went with my eye-bathing stuff but no headcollar (he'd been so good) and he looked at me as if I was mad and took off. I fetched the headcollar and rattled it and he came running up to me, put his head in it for me, let me inspect and bathe his eye without moving a muscle.
I don't understand this, although I'm not complaining. It seems with the headcollar on, I'm the boss and without it, he is.

Lost Cat

and this is where I found her! That's a wall cupboard and it was shut, I have no idea how she got there and everyone denies putting her there. She seemed content enough and was not pleased about being evicted.