Category Archives: Abby Waterman

BIG PACKS AT THE SUPERMARKETS

Yes, we are fortunate – being elderly and vulnerable we can get slots at supermarkets but we do miss being able to choose our own fruit and vegetables. The two of us can cope with a 2.5 kg bag of potatoes if we keep the potatoes cool and in the dark but 1 kg of carrots is just too much.

OK – so I’ve made carrot and orange soup, had sliced carrots as a vegetable and spiralized some with the remains of a courgette to make a pretty combination of carrot and courgette spaghetti as a vegetable but there was still 1/3 of a bag left. You can order some single fruits and veggies but you can’t choose the size. I ordered a leek and the one I was sent was a foot long and nearly 1½” in diameter. Almost half was composed of dark green earthy tough leaves. I would never have chosen it, had I been able to go to the supermarket in person.

My English granddaughter is a great Vegan cook and sends me images of her very professional looking bread. Not to be outclassed, I got down my Bread book by Christine Ingram and Jennie Shapter to look for something new. To my delight I found their Carrot and Fennel Seed bread. Absolutely delicious. I reduced the amount of seeds to 1 teaspoon but I think when I make it again I’ll omit the seeds.

My Carrot Bread will now join my Beetroot Bread and Square Challah fun loaves.

 

Love the orange carrot flecks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99 http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

 

CARROT AND FENNEL SEED BREAD   

Made in breadmaker on Basic Program

500 gm strong white flour                                                                                    Continue reading BIG PACKS AT THE SUPERMARKETS

THE IMPERIAL WAR MUSEUM – A.K.A BEDLAM

In normal times the two huge 15 inch naval guns in front of the portico would have been swarming with children.

This week we changed our walk from the Victoria Embankment to the grounds around the Imperial War Museum in Lambeth Road. It was a lovely spring day, the roses, edging the lawn outside, in full bloom.

The actual building was constructed as the Bethlem Royal Hospital for the Insane in St George’s Fields, moving there from Bridewell and then Moorfields in 1828. Probably from as early as 1598, visitors were allowed to come and laugh and poke at the poor inmates. Known as ‘Bedlam’, it was a popular stop on the London tourist trail and a source of income for the hospital and staff. When the asylum moved to Beckenham in 1936, the Imperial War Museum transferred to Lambeth from the Imperial Institute in South Kensington..

I first saw the Imperial War Museum from my room in the clinic opposite, on a snowy evening in February 1990. Though still attached to various tubes after surgery for breast cancer, I was able to walk around and look out of the window. The snow was no longer falling, but it lay thick on the windowsill, glistening under the starlit sky. The elegant snow-covered Imperial War Museum across the road, with its tall cupola looked like a fairy castle in the moonlight.

I needed cheering up. As a consultant pathologist, who had worked in a cancer hospital for 4 years, I had carried out numerous autopsies on women with breast cancer. Virtually all the women I encountered with breast cancer had died of the disease. When I lectured on the subject, I pointed out how good the prognosis for breast cancer was, but I still thought it would prove fatal for me. It didn’t – and that was 30 years ago. Now the outlook for patients with breast cancer is better than ever.

I can’t decide whether it is better or worse to be in the ‘trade’ if you are a doctor and have a life-threatening disease. Of course, the surgeon, the anaesthetist and the radiotherapist were all friends as well as colleagues. I could stop the breast surgeon in the corridor and ask for a quick word about the hard lump I found while having a shower. But it also meant that I was well aware of the worst possible outcomes and because I was a doctor I felt I had to be extra brave, not make a fuss or ‘come it’.

Although I had long since retired, when I was admitted with a near-fatal heart attack in 2016, I was treated more like a colleague than a non-medical patient, who might not understand the medical terms and find being in a hospital frightening. For me, a hospital is almost home from home and the antiseptic smell is reassuring rather than threatening.

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99 http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

IS A ‘SQUARE’ CHALLAH OK?

My delicious ‘square’ Challah

 

Well it’s actually not square – it’s rectangular. I have in my time made a conventional challah plaited and tapering to both ends, as well as a round challah, but now there are only the two of us we prefer our bread to be loaf shaped.

It started when we first got married in 1956. I was a medical student, working a couple of evenings a week as a school dentist, and Josh was working as an assistant in a dental practice in North London. After a quick breakfast, we would each hurry off, not meeting until the evening. It wasn’t until dinner that we had time to sit down together. I had lunch with my fellow medical students in the medical school refectory while Josh would make do with a couple of sandwiches. Even when I had qualified as a doctor, had 4 children, and with Josh had set up an educational toy shop and become a consultant pathologist, dinner time was our time together. To begin with, I had lunch in the consultants’ dining room but the food was so good and the deserts so delicious that I started to put on too much weight. Finally, I gave up lunch altogether.

Even when we both retired, dinner was our main meal and Josh went on having a sandwich for lunch. A rectangular loaf is most convenient for that, and surely a plaited loaf is still a Challah – even if the shape is unconventional. You just have to say or think the word ‘Challah’ and you can imagine the delicious smell.

BTW – I love Poppy Seed cake but I don’t like poppy seeds on Challah or on beigels!!

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

RECIPE FOR ‘SQUARE’ CHALLAH

Bake 220°C 20 mins

500gm strong white flour

Continue reading IS A ‘SQUARE’ CHALLAH OK?

GOING WALKIES IN CORONA VIRUS TIMES

A view of the steps, so useful for exercise, and the bench where we rest in the sun after our walk.

Being very much older than 70 and having an impressive medical history, I am designated as vulnerable and have to be confined for 16 weeks. I can set my inexpensive Lescom Sports Watch not only to time my exercise but to calculate the distance I travel and the calories I use. It certainly makes me realise how much exercise I need to do to work off one of my favourite chocolate digestive biscuits or a few peanuts!!

Our flat is arranged around a corridor – about 15 of my short steps – and I try to do at least 10 minutes of exercise a day, including pacing up and down it and touching my toes umpteen times. I do a mixture of exercises from the NHS website   some from the class that ran at my GP surgery and some given me by the various physiotherapists who tried to deal with my painful hip following a fracture and hip replacement. The NHS recommends at least 150 minutes exercise a week but I don’t manage two sessions every day, but apparently even 10 minutes of exercise a day is better than nothing.

Josh and I go for a walk every weekend along the Thames Embankment, often resting on a bench outside Tate Britain. We leave the steps clear for exercisers – cheering them on and exhorting them to go up and down 100 times. So far no-one has done more than ten times. This Sunday an old Chinese grandfather guided a pretty little toddler up and down and round the corner.

We live on the 9th floor with a balcony, so the lovely weather we’ve had recently has allowed me to get a bit of a tan. Unfortunately, I’ve finished all 13 of my library books so I’m now reading on my Kindle –books from Kindle itself and some from our free local Cloud Library.

When I bought my Kindle Fire I also got a matte screen to apply so I can even read in bright sunshine. It’s a great device, but I think I’ll always prefer real paper books.

Excellent NHS exercise website

https://www.nhs.uk/oneyou/for-your-body/move-more/home-workout-videos/

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

RYE BREAD AND BEIGELS/ BAGELS (TOMATOES/ TOMATOES)

A traditional tasting rye and caraway loaf but not the traditional shape

Living in Petticoat Lane opposite the Kossoff and Grodzinski bakeries, a slice or two of rye bread and butter accompanied every meal – without butter if it was a meat meal. My grandmother, who lived with us until she died in 1937, had long since given up her pitch on the corner of Wentworth Street. She sold beigels there until my parents got married in 1918 and she moved with them to Old Kent Road.

It’s always lovely having my daughter Louise and her Basque husband Mark come to stay and one of their special treats is to buy us a couple of sliced rye loaves and some beigels from the Beigel Bake shop at the end of Brick Lane. My hip is still too sore for me to walk far and parking is difficult around Brick Lane, so we’ve given up going ourselves.

They were due to come for Easter, but who knows when air traffic will resume?

So, it’s down to making my own. The rye and caraway loaf I make in the breadmaker tastes fine and authentic, but it isn’t an oval glazed loaf like the traditional one. I haven’t made any beigels for some time – it’s a bit of a faff having to boil as well as prove the dough – but just writing about them makes me long for some. Maybe tomorrow.

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

RECIPE FOR RYE/ CARAWAY LOAF

Bake 220°C 30 mins

BASIC RAISIN DOUGH setting Continue reading RYE BREAD AND BEIGELS/ BAGELS (TOMATOES/ TOMATOES)

STICKY BUNS – MODIFIED FROM MARY BERRY’S HOT CROSS BUN RECIPE

Scrumptious sticky buns

I’ve no idea who taught me this, but it was my party piece as a young child, recited with a suitable lisp!!

‘Johnny bought a penny bun

In the baker’s shop

It was such a pretty bun

Sticky at the top.

Came a hungry doggy by

Says Johnny ‘Ave a bit’

The doggy liked it very much

And soon the bun was gone.

Came a fine fat gentleman

Watching all the fun

‘Here y’are Johnny. Here’s a penny

Buy another bun.’

These buns are modified from Mary Berry’s Hot Cross Buns Recipe – now Hot Nought Buns. On my daughter Louise’s advice, I made the dough in the bread maker and proved and baked the buns in my fan oven. I’m thinking of using the same recipe to make a fruit loaf – when there’s a bit more room in the freezer. That’s the trouble with time on your hands – it’s more fun to cook and freeze something than write up more memories or catch up on my Ancient Greek.

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

Recipe Modified from Mary Berry’s Hot Cross Buns

Makes 12- 16 – large or small buns

Bake 220°C 15mins

Continue reading STICKY BUNS – MODIFIED FROM MARY BERRY’S HOT CROSS BUN RECIPE

OUR 4 MONTHS IN ISOLATION – MORE BOOKS WAITING TO BE READ

The books on our desk waiting to be read.

The books I borrowed from the library are mainly fun books, light and maybe a little silly. The books that sit on the little desk in our bedroom are books we bought or were given as birthday presents. You can see which are Josh’s. He’s the one who likes biographies. The only biography that is mine is my memoir ‘Woman in a White Coat’. It’s there so I can refer to it while writing the sequel and check I’m not repeating myself.

As you see from the titles of the books, I’ve developed an interest in the brain. When I was training as a pathologist, I worked for a month at the Hospital for Neurological Disorders. For me, the brain was an organ I removed at post-mortem, fixed in formalin for six months and then examined thin slices under the microscope. At that time, in the early 1970s, MRIs were just an experimental procedure. We didn’t dream that we would ever be able to look at patient’s brains in an f MRI and see which part of them were functional and lit up. Then, our knowledge was mainly based on what happened when parts of the brain were removed by surgery or by accident – which functions were lost when that part was damaged or lost.

Maybe when I grow up I’ll have one more career as a neurophysiologist – if I survive the latest plague!!

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat

THE TURKEY BONE LADY

TurTurkey bone

My first post after qualifying as a doctor was as a house surgeon in the Ear, Nose and Throat department. During the week I was on 24/7 but, as there were two ENT housemen, we had alternate weekends off.

It was the day after Boxing Day 1958 and we were all feeling rather fragile after the party the night before. My bleep went. It was Sister in Casualty.

‘I think you’re on call for ENT, Dr Waterman. Could you come down? We have a patient for you.’

I walked through the tunnel to Casualty and was greeted by Sister wearing a red paper hat.

‘It’s the large lady over there,’ she said.

I looked across. She was enormous. She dwarfed her tiny husband.

I grinned and pointed to Sister’s hat.

‘My God,’ she said, pulling it off. ‘I’ve been wearing this all morning. Haven’t been to bed yet. I’m off in an hour.’

‘It’s something I’ve swallowed,’ my patient said. ‘It’s because of my daughter-in -law, Doris. She’s a bit sloppy with her cooking.’

Her husband patted her fat little hand.

‘She tries her best, love.’

‘It was the turkey stew. My new teeth still hurt when I chew and as it was just stew I took them out to eat. Next thing there was something sticking in my throat. I tried gargling and eating dry bread but it’s still there this morning.’

‘Do you think you could walk over with me to the ENT department. I think you’re going to need an anaesthetic for us to see what it is. It’s good you haven’t eaten anything this morning.’

My registrar was sitting in the surgeon’s lounge looking pitiful.

‘Speak very quietly,’ he said. ‘I think my head is going to explode. I thought we’d have a quiet day. Can you book a theatre and bleep the anaesthetist on call. I hope he’s not feeling as bad as I am.’

The registrar got the turkey vertebra out easily and I took it round to recovery to show my patient.

I was off the next weekend and went shopping in the local market. I heard a voice calling ‘Miss, Miss. Doctor.’

It was the turkey bone lady. I thought I had recognised her in Casualty but I hadn’t been sure. She had quite the best fruit and vegetable stall in the market. I chose some apples and a bunch of bananas and held out a £1 note.

‘That’s all right, love. I owe you. You were so kind to me.’

I tried to insist but she wasn’t having any. It wasn’t very much so I said thank you and backed off fast when she looked as if she was going to kiss me.

The trouble was she tried not to charge me the next time I went shopping. I couldn’t have that, so I had to shop at one of the other stalls.

One day she stopped me.

‘I’ve seen you going to her opposite. Nothing like the quality on our barrow. OK. I’ll charge you then but I’ll see you right. You’ll have the best stuff you’ve ever seen.’

It wasn’t fair really. All I’d done was book her in. My registrar was nursing a sore head and he was so grumpy he upset her.

It shows we all want a bit of Tender Loving Care.

A Fruit and Vegetable stall in San Sebastian

Lots more stories like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat paperback

ALL 6s AND 7s – ACCORDING TO WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

Age 6 from Rachel Mulligan’s sequence ‘Seven Ages of Man’ stained glass roundels illustrating the life of her father Jim Mulligan, Stained Glass Museum, Ely Cathedral

On my way home from seeing the audiologist about my hearing aids, I thought about all the ‘falsies’ now available to us. I don’t have those we usually associate with the term – when I had surgery for breast cancer immediate reconstruction wasn’t on offer, but I have been fitted with some of the other prosthetic replacements hardly dreamt of when Jacques in Shakespeare’s ‘As You Like It’ spoke of the Seven Ages of Man.

In the UK by 2018 the expectation of life for men was 79.6 and for women 83.2. In Shakespeare’s time, in the 16th century, the expectation of life for both was just under 40, given the high mortality during infancy and childbirth. At 40, I’d have thought myself in the prime of life and was just about to start my specialist training as a consultant pathologist. My final career was just about to begin.

‘The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose’

‘Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.’

I used to be lean and wish I were again. I’ve more ‘the fair round belly’ of the Justice and I only wear slippers at home – haven’t yet descended into going out in them, nor in curlers. I’ve most of my own teeth with only one false tooth – a bridge supported by a tooth on either side, and since having my cataracts removed and false lenses inserted, I no longer wear spectacles,. Also, I have a false hip after fracturing the neck of my right femur in Spain in 2000.
I’m not sure about the ‘second childishness’, though every now again, when I try to remember a word or a name, I experience the ‘mere oblivion’. But so at times so do my children and grandchildren. Immediately after my heart attack I virtually lost my sense of taste and some manual dexterity, but they’re mostly back now.
Lucky we didn’t live in Shakespeare’s time, when ‘sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything’ meant literally that!!

Lots more like this in my memoir ‘‘Woman in White Coat’. Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat

Woman in a White Coat paperback

IT TAKES A NERVE TO CATCH YOURSELF A HUSBAND

As soon as I turned seventeen, the pressure was on. This was long before Computers or Internet Dating, and my mother started to worry that she’d have to find a Shadchen (a matchmaker) if, like a nice Jewish girl, I was to get married and have a big family. But despite my mother’s fears, all I needed was the nerve.

In my early teens, eager to meet handsome young men, I got myself booked into Guy’s Hospital Dental School to have my teeth seen to. I never actually got off with any of them, and I certainly never knew why I had the professor and a crowd of students around me when a new junior student took over my treatment.

I was now a senior dental student myself and treating my favourite patient. He was an elderly man who had a fund of brilliant stories of Times Gone By. He kept me in gales of laughter – in between me trying to get on with filling the many cavities in his teeth.

I’d had odd twinges of toothache in a lower premolar, but when I consulted our very misogynistic professor, he said he could find no cause for my pain and that I was just another hysterical young woman student. But now I had a throbbing pain in my tooth that seemed to be bursting out of my head. I’d never experienced anything like it. If you’ve ever had really bad toothache you will know what I mean. It was almost unbearable.

I apologised to my patient and said I’d have to put in a temporary filling. I just couldn’t go on.

He tried hard, but he couldn’t help grinning.

‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ he said. ‘You get yourself seen to. Good to have an excuse to come and see you again.’

The pain had subsided a little and I was able to bid him goodbye.

I didn’t know the on duty house surgeon very well, but I knew he had the reputation of being very skilful but with a sharp tongue. I expected him to be as scathing as my professor.

By now the pain had simmered down a bit. I went up to him and asked him to look at my tooth, explaining that the prof had been unable to find the source of my fleeting pain.

In very little time, he established that a right lower premolar, which had a small filling in it, was the source of my raging toothache. The very junior student at Guy’s Hospital, who’d treated me all those years ago, had drilled too deep and exposed the nerve in the centre of the tooth – hence the crowd around me, watching the exposed nerve being capped off. It had lain dormant for years and was now finally giving trouble.

The house surgeon gave me an injection, removed the inflamed nerve and arranged to complete the root filling when it had settled down.

Having made a further appointment, he asked me if I’d like to come to the cinema that weekend to see ‘Les Enfants du Paradis.’

The rest is history. Now, four children and four grandchildren later, Josh and I have been married the best part of 64 years.

Josh as a very handsome young dental student (not me – another student in his dental chair)

Josh as a very handsome young dental student (not me – another student in his dental chair)

I thank all you lovely people who wrote and commented on my memoir ‘Woman in a White Coat.’

‘Woman in White Coat – the memoir of girl growing up the East End making good.

I thank all you lovely people who wrote and commented on my memoir ‘Woman in a White Coat.’

About ‘Woman in a White Coat’

Buy it on Kindle at £2.99 or as a paperback on Amazon at £9.99

http://bit.ly/Woman_in_a_White_Coat