So, at long last, after a lot of messing around because of a Health Problem last year that badly affected me mentally, I’ve finally finished my latest book. It’s Book One of a new series which is set in the small village of Abbotspride in Scotland. The two main characters are two Captains. Andrew Foster, the disgraced Captain of a Cruise Ship and Captain Roger Ringly, the Retired Royal Navy Captain, who served on Nuclear Submarines. They have both retired to what they thought, or at least hoped would be peace and quiet. Well anyone can dream can’t they???

Come and meet Barlinnhe Tish, who runs the local Bakers. John and Heather Jollison. John runs the local Fishing Boat and Heather, his Daughter is a Doctor. Doctor Pertwee the local Doctor and then there’s Mrs. Mcgrew, the local gossip, who knows everything but knows nothing. And we won’t say much about Minister Hagan at the moment.

The book will be available on Amazon Kindle and Kobo as always. As soon as it’s available I’ll let you know.

I also have a monthly newsletter, so if you’d like a copy please drop me your e mail address and I’ll add you to the mailing list. You can find me on Facebook, or Twitter, or Instagram. If I’ve been lax in talking to people on here, then I’m sorry, but I’ll be getting back to people from now on.


Horse Racing, Crafting, and the Future

Well, I’m pleased to say, that I’m back. After far too long and a very nasty health scare that I’ve had trouble coping with, I’m back and I’m really pleased.

I’m still an Author. That will never change. I’ve got books in the pipe like almost ready to go. All I need to do is finish them and pass them to my lovely Editor. I’ve had one new book out which is called The Liar’s Revenge which you can find on Amazon Kindle and will be on Kobo very shortly.

The other thing you probably didn’t know about me is that I own several Race Horses and I do love horse racing. This is a love I share with my son. We’re successful – although in saying that not all our horses win by any means. Sadly some have been put down, some have had operations due to bad health and have not raced for a season and some are real characters. Let me introduce you to Judicial. Now this is one character if ever there was. Judicial loves peppermints although most racehorses love crunching on peppermints because they keep their teeth sharp. So on the way to the Parade ring, and down to the starting stalls he likes to have a chomp on a few peppermints, and he’s not a horse who rushes. He likes to take his time. Have a look around, see people. Get’s there when he gets there, but when that starters gun goes, he’s off like lightening.

Then there’s Viola. That’s my girl. Viola was doing really badly. So bad that at one point she was going to be retired. One race with a 16 year old apprentice jockey who had never raced before. Viola never stood a chance. He gave her a couple of slaps, and out of the way. She was gone like a rocket. He brought her in first. No one, but no one could believe it. Viola is now Miss Viola!

So on to my crafting. Hobby? No it’s my obsession. I admit it. I’ve just opened a shop on Etsy called Violets and Lace Crafts and I’m setting up another on or Put it in your search bar anyway and take a look. It’s a fantastic place. You can find all sorts of things there, plus you can find out about fairs and sales in your area. So I’m doing knitting, crochet, jewellery making. In fact I’m working my way through all the craft kits that people have bought me over the last couple of years that I’ve never got around to using. I sew a lot too. Forgot that one. I quilt as well. I know I sound one bore, but in all fairness I’m far to old for jumping out of planes and climbing Everest, so I’ll just stick with the things I’m happy with.



I’ve found the most amazing new crochet sensation, and I’m talking not just great or very good. I’m talking amazing with a capital A. As you know I love to crochet and I came across this young man purely by accident.

His business is called Leonardo’s Cfashion and you can find him on Facebook at the moment. I first saw him when he modelled one of his own designs. It was a crochet hoodie, which if I’m not mistaken was made from Granny Squares. I’m going to be following him closely because apart from being interested in what he does he’s a lovely young man and has become a real friend.

Personally I think Leonardo has got a great future in the world of Crochet. He’s young. He’s talented and we need people like him, which is why I’m going to be following his every move and giving him a regular space in my blog and I hope that some day we’ll see a book of crochet patterns from my lovely new friend.


Aunt Sarah’s Grave


It was a dark morning when I went to visit Auntie Sarah’s grave.  I always went once a month.  I always took her white flowers.  Why?  Because she loved white flowers.  It didn’t matter what kind of flowers they were, but they had to be white.  They could be lilies, roses, snowdrops, anything you cared to name, but they had to be white.  She always said it was because, when she got married, she had been ‘with child’ as those ignorant people had called it in those days.  In other words she had been pregnant by the man she loved but he had been killed fighting for his country in World War 1.   They had been married, but according to my family, to get married in white, whilst knowing she was pregnant would have been the worst thing ever, so poor Aunt Sarah was forced to get married in a long plum velvet suit, trimmed with grey fur and carry a bouquet so big that her condition didn’t show.

Her new husband was called up into the Army where he was killed by the Enemy.

As could be expected, Aunt Sarah was more than distraught and had expected the family to gather around her and help her through her misery, but no.  Our family, to this day, preferred not to be embarrassed by anything like this – as they termed it – and turned their backs on her, telling her that she had shamed them and must now make her own way in the world.

With no money, no job, and no home, there was no world for Aunt Sarah to make her way in as far as she was concerned and her body was found floating in the River Thames.  As I understood it not one member of my family even went to her funeral.  As I became a man, I overheard two members of my family talking about this person known only as ‘Aunt Sarah’ and after much badgering I finally dragged the story out of them.

My reaction was one of something between disgust and revulsion.  In the end my Uncle Jimmy who liked his Alcohol a little too much finally told me her body was been buried in a ‘grave’ somewhere or other, but she most definitely didn’t lie with the family.

After searching for what seemed like forever, I found my Aunt’s body in this place called ‘somewhere or other’ and made sure that it was removed and given a proper burial. By this time I had my own money and a temper that my Family wouldn’t dare cross and that’s how I came to visit my Aunt every month with a bunch of white flowers.

As I walked along, a grave worker was down a ‘hole’ he was digging ready for a new incumbent, but the stone was in place complete with the new person’s name and date of birth and death. I’d never seen such a thing before.  A gravestone in place with the details of the deceased before the person had already arrived at their last resting place!

The smell of the Lilac’s I was carrying was overwhelming. The most beautiful smell.  As I walked toward the man, he stopped and looked at me.  He never spoke.  Just looked at me.  No particular look on his face that made me think anything was wrong or unusual about that day.

Then for some reason, it was as though my feet had taken on a will of their own.  I stopped.  Suddenly, in front of that Gravestone. The man still stood there.  The same look on his face, neither of us moved.

I read the words on the stone.

                In Loving of Benjamin Harold Fortescue, Major.

           Killed during Operation Overlord in World War Two 

                                          6 June 1944

I was Major Benjamin Harold Fortescue, Major.   The date the day I visited Aunt Sarah’s grave for the last time in this world, was the First of January 1944.  The first day of a New Year.  When people had so much hope that this was the year when this dreadful war would be over and I had been given the privilege of knowing it would not be.  As I walked away that day, I felt a strange kind of calm.  Not the fear of death.

A strange hope inside me that some day, this world would be able to exist in peace.




Today I would like to introduce you to Jack Yeomanson, a Tour Guide and Public Speaker.

Jack is a qualified London Tour Guide and has been for many years now. He is a City of London Guide, a Clerkenwell Guide and a Westminster Guide. His walks are varied. In fact far too varied for me to list on here, but you can find all his walks by going into Event Bright and typing in the name Jack Yeomanson and there will be a link to all his walks including the London Literary Festival which is coming up shortly where he will be leading a walking around London on the Bradshaw Walks. Jack doesn’t specialise in just kind of walk. By that I mean that he also does bespoke walks. If you have a particular kind of walk that you would like, then he will write one especially for you e.g. if you would like a walk as a birthday gift for someone then he will write that walk for them. However, please give him plenty of notice. Dogs are very welcome, although please keep them on a lead. If you are bringing any medication with you, please let him know so that he is aware if you have any medical condition. Children are also very welcome.

He will guide walks for Groups or Organisations. His walks have to be in London however, because he is a London Tour Guide.

If you would like to contact Jack for further information on his walks, please contact him on



Today I would like to introduce you to a magazine that you may never have heard of before unless you are in some way attached to or interested in the Marine Industry. I would also like to introduce you to it’s Editor. He is an Indian Gentleman called Amit Kumar. I am very lucky to call this man my friend. I’m not really sure how we ever came to be friends. I think we ‘bumped’ into each other as we English people say, and struck up a friendship that is strong and always will be, because we fight for what we both believe it. The rights of Seamen.

Amit Kumar is an ex Mariner, who founded Sea and Coast in 2016. Hopefully a new Satellite t.v. channel will be launched especially for Maritime services. Amit was born in New Dehli in India so knows how Seafarers suffer and the pain that comes with Container ship crews who are away from their families for long periods of time. They are paid little and ask for little in return.

You can find him on both Twitter and Facebook although at the moment he is being treated very badly by the owner of Twitter who refuses to give him the Blue Tick that he most certainly deserves.



I would like to take about two things that are very important to me. One is a magazine called Sea and Coast and the other is a very special man who I call my friend called Amit Kumar, an eminent professional from the Mariner Fraternity and the Editor of Sea and Coast. Amit was born in India and started Sea and Coast especially for the Maritime Industry – or anyone else who is interested – like me!

It covers navel, cruise, coastal, ferry and sail sectors, and is the official On Line Partner of the Indian Navy’s Think Tank National Maritime Foundation.

It was a humble endeavour to pay gratitude to shipping and maritime community worldwide. Todays seafarer must be informed and entertained in an increasingly complex and commercial shipping environment.

It’s available online and in print and there’s a mobile app for Android phones and is available every month.

At the moment Twitter won’t give Amit the Blue Tick which he so deserves, which is really nasty of them.

In 2021 it signed a Memorandum of Understanding with SAMDES (Society for Aerospace Maritime and Defence Studies) a Non Profit think thank of India.

Sea and Coast if you are interested in Maritime news is one of the most interesting magazine you can read.

Just a small except, which I’m sure Amit won’t mine me telling you is

A little know fact about Amit is that he is also Chairman of a Mother Teresa Charitable Foundation in India so must have our Greatest Respect for that as well.

So I’m going to be talking Sea and Coast and Amit on a regular basis on my blog? Why? Because he’s my friend and I like to talk about my friends as well as just me! I believe in loyalty and my Seaman have been at my heart and soul since I was a young girl and I still knit hats and gloves for them. And well – you see we can all talk about our friend, so here’s what no one knows about Amit, but they all think they can get out there on Social Media and say nasty things about him, but here’s what they don’t know the Amit Kumar that I know. The man behind Sea and Coast. The man that fought he’s way back from Covid, and believe me I thought we’d lost him, but he still found the energy to message me and say he was alright. The man that always sends me a message to ask if I’m alright. He’s sweet, he’s kind, he’s funny and more than that, this man that everyone seems to judge by his picture, will fight to his last breath to get better rights for Seamen.

I’ve very proud and lucky to call Amit Kumar my friend.


The Tangerine Handbag: A Short Story

Michael Ely and his Mum, Sarah, got up as usual that morning.  She boiled two eggs for each of them for their breakfast.  Toasted two slices of brown bread, which they ate with their eggs, and then they finished off with two croissants from the local bakery which Sarah had bought the day before on her way home from work. 

“What’s the matter love?” she said ruffling his hair, knowing full well what the matter was.

“Nothing.  Just usual stuff” he said.  “Another day of being moaned at. Do this, Do that, and when I do it, it’s why did you do it this way, and why did you do it that way.  Just once Mum, I’d like him to say, You know what Michael?  You made a really good job of that.  I’m really proud of you”

“I know love” she said softly.  “I know, but you wanted to learn the wine trade and starting at the bottom is the best way to do it.  Working in a vineyard, watching how wine is made from the grapes and how it’s produced and finally bottled.  I know he’s obnoxious.  He’s rude, he’s difficult, and to be honest, I hate the sight of him, but with no Dad around at least I’m earning and now you are we can afford things like holidays”

“Mum” Michael said softly, not wanting to hurt his Mum because she was his whole world. “Who was my Dad?  I know you don’t like talking about it.  In fact, you’ve never told me.  Was he a bad man or something?  I mean he didn’t exactly hang around did he?”

“No love” Sarah smiled trying to keep the tears that were threatening to run down her face now.  “He didn’t.  He was my boyfriend at the time.  I loved him very much, and like a fool I thought he loved me.  Same old story.  Nothing new.  I told him I was pregnant.  Thought he’d be over the moon.  He took one look at me and dumped me.  Don’t forget I was living in Gloucestershire at the time.  Mum and Dad wanted me have an abortion and I said not a chance, and look at what I got.  My beautiful, gorgeous boy and I’ve never regretted being a single Mum once”

The journey to work took about forty five minutes and as Sarah pulled into the Staff car park she could see that her boss and his wife were alrea tdy in.  Michael went to the usual work station to meet the other wine production staff and Sarah went to her usual office.

“Your’e a few minutes late this morning Sarah” smiled Harold Everton, the owner of the vineyard.  Somehow Sarah always felt that his smile was something of a man who wanted more out of their relationship than just work.

“I’m sorry Mr. Everton” she said “The traffic across the railway line was held up because a train wanted to come through so there was quite a queue.  We didn’t have a choice other than to wait.  Now can I make you a coffee?  And your wife?”

“My wife will not be joining us at present Sarah” he said turning away.  “Only one coffee thank you”

“Not joining us?” thought Sarah.  “So why is her tangerine handbag on her desk as I’ve just passed her office?”

Sarah thought it best not to press her boss any further, made him a large latte, put out a plate of his favourite biscuits and made her way back to her office.  She continued with her work, updated the things she needed to, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to settle, but she couldn’t work out why.  Maybe it would be better just to get on with her day and stop seeing problems where there we’re any. 

The morning carried on as usual.  Mr. Everton came into Sarah’s office twice, saying that his wife had called and said that she would not be in for the rest of the day and, therefore, would Sarah mind, going through the papers on her desk and putting things in order of importance when she did return the next morning. Sarah readily agreed and as soon as Mr. Everton had left her office she went into his wife’s office and was stunned to see that the tangerine handbag had, by now, disappeared.

From then on, she watched every minute on the clock tick by as though it was an hour, until she could talk to Michael, and confirm that her brain had not suddenly gone into overdrive.

“Don’t ask me Mum.  The Production Manager has lost his temper this morning at least three times.  The staff are in turmoil.  No one know’s what’s going on.  Now we’ve all been told that the whole place in being put up for sale and we are all out of a job, starting from the end of the month. They’re all asking why you knew and why you didn’t tell me so that I could tip all of them off that this was coming”

“Putting the place up for sale and putting everyone out of a job?” Sarah gasped.  “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know that’s why Michael.  Your’e forgetting that this is going to put both of us out of work.  No money at all coming in.  Do you hear me??? Do that lot in there really think that I wouldn’t have told you and them if I’d have known?  Well thank you all!”

“Alright Mum.  I’m sorry and I’ll tell them.  I’m sorry.  Come here and give me a cuddle” Michael said softly”

Sarah went back to work and tried to concentrate as best as she could. She found that she couldn’t hear a word that Mr. Everton said to her.  His words never made any sense.  They all seemed to disappear into a cloud in her head.  All she could concentrate on was what would happen to her and Michael if they both lost their jobs.  Social Security was fine, but they couldn’t both live on the small amount they would get.  What if they lost their house?  They didn’t have family they could depend on.  She would suggest that Michael left home.  Moved away and found work somewhere.  Forgot he ever had a Mother.  That was the best solution.

“Sarah” said Mr. Everton gently.  “It would appear that something is worrying you.  Can I help at all?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Everton” she smiled.  “I’m just worried about something personal.  I’m fine now thank you”

“Take a little time my Dear” he whispered moving closer, and touching her hair gently.  “Perhaps we should both retire to my wife’s office, where we could both relax in each other’s company.  Come this way”

Before Sarah knew it, he was rubbing his hand up and down her back and starting to unbutton the top two buttons on her blouse.

“I said no Mr. Everton and I mean’t it.  You have a wife.  Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do” she snapped sharply.

“Not after today Sarah” Mr Everton snapped just as sharply.  “Recently I have found your work to be less than adequate.  Today, therefore, will be your last day with us.  You have one hour to leave this place and you may take your son with you”

Sarah was stunned.  She could hardly breath, let alone speak.  Michael come out half an hour after, followed by the Production Manager and most of the Wine Production Staff. 

“What’s happened?” The Manager screamed.  “What have that pair done to you both?”

Sarah just smiled at them.

“You really want the truth?  Sacked me because I wouldn’t have sex with him in the office.  Sacked Michael because he’s my son.  No other reason and there’s something not right.  He’s wife’s disappeared.  He won’t say why or where, but a tangerine handbag keeps appearing in her office and then re-appearing”

“Oh Sarah” said the Wine Production Manager. “What will you both do now?  You depended on those jobs.  Look lovely you know you can come to us for help any time you want.  Your Michael is a good lad and I’ll give him a glowing reference any day of the week”.

As Sarah drove home, Michael looked at her.

“Don’t cry for him Mum.  We’ll be alright.  I’ll make sure we don’t starve.  I promise.  You did the right thing, because no one can say my mum had to be a prostitute to feed us”.

“No but she was a whore wasn’t she Michael who got pregnant by a man who didn’t even love her and them dumped her.  Was just a stupid kid wasn’t she?”

“Show me the man who says that and I swear I’ll flatten him” smiled Michael trying not to choke on his own tears.

They got out of the car as they pulled up at home, and Sarah picked up her box of her own things that she’d bought home from her office.  As she looked in the top, there it was again.  The tangerine handbag.  It was as though it was following her everywhere she went.

“What?” she almost said out loud. “You again?  What is it with you?  You scruffy looking….I don’t need a cast off handbag thank you very much and tangerine is a revolting colour.  Anyway I might as well have a look inside.  With no job and the fact that Michael and I are about you starve I might find a half eaten bar of chocolate that we’ll be grateful for”.

“Come on Mum” Michael smiled.  “Fish and chips from the shop for dinner.  One last treat.  I’m paying.  Go on.  Cod for me and scampi for you”

He dug her playfully in the ribs and smiled his usual cheeky smile.

“Only if you let me treat us both to a pickled onion” she said “Before it’s toast and jam for dinner at night.

After their meal, they both decided on an early night, but sleep didn’t come for either of them.  Michael decided to walk the streets the next door looking for work, but Sarah was going to go through that Tangerine handbag until it gave up the secret it held and wanted her to know.

Inside she found the answers.  Although she had always known who Michael’s Father was she had always refused to tell him or anyone else.  There were other papers.  The marriage lines of Mr and Mrs. Everton.  The Birth Certificate of Mr. Everton.  The prison record of Mr. Everton.  The Birth Certificate of her son which named his Father.  It was all there.  The proof.  All in that Tangerine Handbag.  Michael’s Father had been called Clifford Regan or Cliffie for short.  The Birth Certificate of Mr. Everton as he now called himself showed his birth name as Clifford Regan. The Prison Record of Clifford Regan who had served four years for Grievous Bodily Harm.  Then the final proof. The photographs of her and Clifford Regan, together and happy before she told him she was pregnant. Mr. Everton was Clifford Regan.  The Father of her son,  Why hadn’t she seen it? Noticed it?  The only reason she could think of was because she hadn’t wanted to.  Simple as that.

At 7am the next morning, the doorbell rang as though it would never stop and Michael found two Police Officers on the doorstep. They were very polite and asked if they could come in and when they had sat down, they explained that there had been an accident the night before and Mr. and Mrs. Everton, the owners of the Wine Producation Company where she had been Secretary had both been killed outright, and would she be good enough to return to the Office to help their Solicitors with the legal paperwork.

“I would be delighted” Sarah smiled.  “Michael, get dressed please Dear.  We have to talk to the Solicitors.  They will wish to speak with you”

“Me?” he said looking at the Police Officers

“Do as you are told for once” Sarah shouted as Michael shot up the stairs and tripping over the top one. Was

When Sarah and Michael arrived she walked firmly into Mr Everton’s office and sat in his chair, and invited Michael to sit down.

“Now” started Mr. Overton the Everton’s Solicitor. “As I understand it, you were Mr. Everton’s Secretary, so we shall require your help in all matters.  Mr and Mrs. Everton had no offspring, so it must be decided who will inherit everything, which judging by what we see will be something of a problem”

“Let me correct you Mr. Overton” smiled Sarah gently but firmly.  “Mr Everton’s biological son will inherit everything.  Mr. Everton was not his real name, but a name he invented.  His birth name was Clifford Regan.  He had a criminal record. He was the love of my life when I was young.  He got me pregnant and dumped me.  My son, sitting here, is the result of that affair if you wish to call it that.  Before you ask me if I have any proof, yes I do.  It’s all here and no you are not getting it without someone else being present so that you can Doctor it or conveniently lose it which he will have instructed you to do because I know exactly how Clifford Regan would work. My son is his son.  Do all your tests.  Just make sure that his and my son inherits what his Father left”

“Mr Everton was an upstanding man to the very least Madam” shouted Mr. Overton banging his hand on the desk now. be

“Of course he was” shouted Michael. “So upstanding that he sacked my Mum because she wouldn’t have sex in the Office with him”

Tests were done, and it was finally proved that the illegitimate son of Sarah Ely and Clifford Regan, also known as, Mr. Everton was the rightful heir to the Wine Production Company that he had built.

Six months later, Michael sacked Sarah, on the grounds that she had worked for long enough and anyway, who wanted ‘their Mum’ as their Secretary, and the Wine Producation Company went on to flourish.  All thanks to a tangerine handbag.

                                               The End.



I love to cook but I suppose if I’m honest I love to bake and this is for me, the best of all cakes in the world. My personal favourite and will live in my heart forever. I was 13 years old when I lost my beloved Dad to lung cancer. Our local Baker in those years was at the top of our street. Every Saturday he took me there. Just the two of us and he would buy me a Banbury, in a bag and we would go into the park and eat our Banbury together on the park bench.


4oz butter

1/2 tablespoon honey

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground allspice

8oz currants

4oz chopped peel

8 oz Flaky Pastry or Rough Puff Pastry, bought of home made

To Glaze

1 egg white beaten

2 tablespoons caster sugar


  1. Cream the butter with the honey and spices.
  2. Blend in the currents and Peel.
  3. Roll out the pastry thinly and cut into 4 inch rounds.
  4. Put a spoonful of the filling i the centre of each round, damp the edges of the pastry and draw them together over the filling.
  5. Squeeze together and turn the pastry over and shape into and Oval.
  6. Roll lightly to flatten slightly and cut 2 slits to let out the steam.
  7. Brush with beaten egg white and sprinkle with caster sugar.
  8. Use the trimmings to make more cakes.
  9. Put on a baking sheet and bake in the preheated hot oven at 450F Gas Mark 8 for 15minutes or until well risen and golden. Serve hot or cold.


4oz flour

1/2 tsp salt

4ox rolled oats

2oz caster sugar

2 1/2 oz margarine

1 egg beaten

2-3 tablespoons milk


  1. Sift the flour and sale into a mixing bowl.
  2. Mix in the oats and sugar
  3. Cut the fat in to the mixture and then mix in to a breadcrumb texture
  4. Bind with the beaten egg, adding a little milk as necessary to make a stiff dough.
  5. Roll out on a floured board thinly.
  6. With a plain cutter cut out 2 1/2 inch rounds.
  7. Place on a greased baking tray.
  8. Work up, roll and cut out the scraps.
  9. Bake in a preheated oven at 350F Gas Mark 4 for 15 minutes or until crisp and golden. Cool on a wire tray.



Now, you know how I love to cook, and I love to collect recipe books or recipes which I print off and that love has definitely been passed on to my son and Editor, but I’ve never seen this first recipe, but here goes.






Put everything in a blender and whizz up until smooth, then put into small portions in the ice tray and freeze. It will last for six months, but that’s left to your personal judgement.



My family aren’t Vegetarian but this curry is from India and is gorgeous.

8oz grated coconut

1 lb fresh pineapple, peeled and cubed

1/4 teaspoon mustard powder

2 green chillies,

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoon oil or butter

Pinch of Mustard seeds

12 Curry Leaves (Optional}

2 Red Chillies (chopped}

Fresh Coriander (Optional}


1/2 tsp Mustard Powder

1/4 teaspoon tumeric

2 teaspoon sugar, depending on the sourness of the Pineapple

1/4 teaspoon salt


  1. Put half the coconut in a bowl with 4 fl oz warm water and leave aside for 15 minutes. Squeeze out the Coconut Milk. You should get about 31/2 fluid oz.
  2. Put the Pineapple in a bowl. Mix the marinade ingredients in a small bowl with a little water and pour over the Pineapple. Mix well and leave to marinade for at lease 15 minutes.
  3. Heat the oil in a shallow pan and when smoking a lot, add the mustard sees and when they pop add the curry leaves, if using. They will release their fragrance into the oil. After a moment or so add the red chillies, and stir. After a few seconds and before the red chillies turn dark, add the Pineapple Stir Fry for ten minutes.
  4. Add the pureed coconut and the coconut milk.
  5. Cook until the preferred texture of the pineapple is reached.
  6. Garnish with Coriander Leaves and serve with Rice.
  7. Serve with any breads you like
  8. I will be the first to say – if you like chips as a side with your Curry – you go for it !!!!!