“Soup of the evening, beautiful soup”  – Lewis Carroll









Why buy packaged or tinned pea soup when you can make your own in almost as little time?

Soup recipe number one coming up.

If you wish to lose weight this way, then try and eat your evening meal as early as possible. It works best if you can finish eating by 6.30/7pm.

Cooking is not an exact science. When I’m making soup (and other meals), I don’t measure the amounts. I just throw things in. It’s trial and error. Keep tasting as you go along and you will soon work out if you need a little more of this or a little less of that.

Andrea’s Easy Peasy Pea Soup

This makes a light, delicate, subtle pea soup. If you would like a stronger pea flavour, just add a few more peas.

You will need:

I  packet 454g/1lb of basic frozen peas (not petit pois just bog standard basic peas)

2-3 medium size onions roughly chopped

1 large fat clove of crushed garlic (if liked)

salt and black pepper

1 medium potato peeled and roughly chopped (optional)

2 tablespoons of vegetable oil

Approx 1 litre of boiling water


Heat vegetable oil on top of stove in a medium-to large saucepan.  Add onions (garlic too if desired) and soften for about 10 minutes on a medium-low heat with lid on pan.

Turn heat right down. Empty your packet of frozen peas into the pan. Add chopped potato if desired.  Immediately add 1 litre of boiling water.

Turn heat right up until mixture begins to boil.

Once it is bubbling, turn right down.  Add salt and pepper. Let it simmer with lid half over the pan.

Leave on lowish heat until peas and potatoes have completely softened. Test the potato with a knife. If you can cut through the potato easily, then the soup is ready.

Blitz or whizz by hand or with a food processor/blender. Taste.  Add more salt and pepper if needed.


For added glamour you can add a touch of creme fraiche on top and a couple of pea shoots.

If you’re not trying to lose weight then serve with some garlic bread or sour dough. It also works very well with croutons.

This soup is also delicious served cold.

Once you have made your own soup, you will never want to buy processed soup again.

Today a recipe. Tomorrow a poem. See you then!

Made today for lunch.



© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems










CORONA VIRUS AND ME – 2 April 2020

Did you see what I did there?  I have changed my blog header to Corona Virus rather than Covid-19.  WordPress mainly has readers from the USA and I don’t want them to feel left out. Hello America!

What’s more, you thought my “About Me” was all you were going to get from me today. But it isn’t.  Hope that’s a nice surprise.

We are all bloggers now

I know so many people who have taken up blogging now (you know who you are).  One of my favourite blogs is from my friend Mel’s grandson, Sam, who is eleven years old. He writes about his baby sister, his cat and being bored. All in a very entertaining way.

He writes, ” … close to 60 visits so please can you tell one of your your friends to at least have a quick skim of one of my blogs because I am aiming for 100 in 2 weeks.” 

It’s called CORONAVIRUS FROM AN 11 YEAR OLD – suggest you check it out at http://www.stuckindoors.net

OH (other half) and I have decided that all the TV cookery programmes are missing a trick.  We all know that the supermarket shelves are emptying of most things edible – in addition to toilet rolls which, correct me if I’m wrong, are not edible.  This is because the great British public, in general, don’t know how to cook.  They watch the cookery programmes, yes. They have the state-of-the-art kitchens, yes.  But do they cook? No!

Why not video some our best known chefs in their own kitchens (Rick Stein, Prue Leith, Mary Berry – you get the idea)  and have them suggest meals people can cook easily, cheaply and with minimum effort?  They could give tips and demonstrate some basic meals. It would be helpful if they could also recommend the basics of a useful store cupboard. For me, a bag of red lentils goes a very long way.  Lentil soup, lentil bolognaise, lentil lasagne – to name but a few.  Dried mustard is also a basic staple. Adds a real tang to cheese sauce and to gravy.  Welsh Rarebit without mustard would be rubbish rather than rarebit (whatever rarebit means).  If you get tired of this blog, I would be more than happy to post up a few recipes. Seriously. Just let me know.

I’ve already mentioned our beloved bread machine.  It is such a joy to come down in the morning to the smell of fresh baking.  People trying to sell their homes used to be told to bake a cake or some bread so prospective purchasers would get a whiff of it as they walked into the house.  It works! Or, at least, it once worked for us when we were trying to sell our home.  Now, of course, nobody can buy, rent or sell. It was bad enough during the Brexit years but now AC (after Corona) who knows?  Bring back Brexit! I would rather have three years of Brexit (which of course we did have folks) than one week of Covid-19.

On that happy note, I will leave you with the yummy wholemeal and rosemary loaf I baked yesterday. Or I would leave you with it but I regret to say, it’s all gone!

Thanks for reading thus far. See you tomorrow!




© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems


Thoughts on a dead cat

When our cat was alive he terrorised all the birds, mice and frogs in the neighbourhood.  If you have read my poem, “A violent death” you will know what I am talking about.

Once he had died, our garden became a haven for wild life.

I miss my cat of course but I get a great deal of pleasure from observing the birds who visit our garden.  In the winter I put out food for them.

Whenever I am doing any sort of gardening or even just pottering in the garden, one little robin always keeps me company.  He’s very tame and comes so close I could reach out and touch him. I like to think it’s always the same robin – but who knows?

It makes me think of the little girl who was befriended by a robin in that wonderful children’s book by Frances Hodgson Burnett,  “The Secret Garden”.

The photo below shows “my” robin perched on top of a bucket in the snow.

I thought how, in the days when our cat was alive, this simple pleasure would not have been there for me. And I wrote this poem:


My cat is sleeping.

Just as well

he can’t see the robin

boldly standing there.

Once upon a time

no bird would dare

to venture near.

But my cat is sleeping now

And has been

For a long long time.

A lump of stone

marks his last resting place.


© Andrea Neidle, My Life in Poems