Angel Jem's City Cottage

What does one eat when one is ill and on a carb free diet?

2012-01-27T12:21:00.002Z

A day off. Snuggled on the settee after a long (long long) lie in and the feeling that I would like to have a cup of tea and a buttered toast..... but I have lost nearly 10lb already on the Dukan diet and I don't feel inclined to break it if I can help.
So what do I have as my comfort food?
Don't know, can't begin to think. I might just stick with the cup of tea. And a long (long long) afternoon nap.
Hope you are all feeling well. Have a good weekend.

January brings the blues....

2012-01-19T12:16:00.000Z

And a buy nothing month. After the excesses of Christmas (my shopping spread so carefully out that I can barely see it) I sat and did my accounts and figured out that the best way to balance my books is to go Cold Turkey.... Nothing for a month. Nada. Rien. As a woman dedicated to spending a little here and a little there this was a massive challenge, but one I had to do. Last term's supply was abysmal and I worry that may be the pattern for the rest of the year. So I set off to think it through...

And here I am, 19 days later still cowardly trying to work out what a buy nothing month should look like. Does food count? Can I get away with a newspaper or a magazine? If I go on a radical diet and slim a dress size does that make new clothes a necessity? (laughter echoes around my house; I don't need to worry about dropping a dress size for a while. With skinny minxes a 1/2 stone would be a big difference, but once you get past size 18 you are talking massive stone weight losses even to register a belt tightening. I suppose it all goes on percentage of weight and waist, but it does seem unfair)

I have cut back; I haven't bought anything really treatish for me, no dvds, no music. I did invest in a few Kindle books, but they were bought with gift certificates. And I did slip in one magazine, Woman and Home with Ruth Jones looking sumptuous on the cover.
And definitely no clothes. And I feel ok about it. I don't feel deprived. I have found other things to do than shop. (not work either; 1.5 days so far) but I have a tidier house. I have the backlog of books on my Kindle that I work my way through, and I have my puter that I have de fragged and hopefully made run faster. I don't feel the need to stop being careful.
I went shopping this week and got bewildered by all the shops and the stuff... my goodness! The stuff. Do I need all that?
Some of my reading over the past few weeks has been about minimalism and simplification. I keep feeling the pull. Please don't tell my husband, he laughs every time I say I want to go minimalist, but I do, truly. I want to live a quiet and simple life where my stuff is all beautiful and all useful. I want to live experiences, not live with a pile that gets between me and my friends. I want to be freed from the label of consumer and able to be... to just be.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible....

2011-10-29T23:31:00.000+01:00

I'm back. Thank goodness. Full time was fun (well, the pay packet was, anyway) but it is soooo time intensive. I was sad to leave but mostly because in 7 weeks the children become 'mine' and it is hard to pass them on when my instinct was to stay and teach them. But the new teacher is lovely and I wish her nothing but well. She will enjoy a lovely, bright and lively class.
And me? I'm back in my house. I'm looking forward to spending time with my cupboards and tidying before Santa delivers more stuff. The Family Room is offending me; I can't sit in it, I can't see past the piles, so next week is a clear, bin and box week. My spare time will be spent in there and, hopefully, this time next week it will be very different.

It's beginning to dawn on me...

2011-10-13T17:27:00.000+01:00

I only have 5 days left of work this half term.
I have enjoyed it, but it is sooooo time intensive. God knows how anybody does full time and craft and have kids. Any ideas?
I finish at this school a week on Friday, but I am at an interview Monday. Fingers crossed, it would be a longer and better job. Full time again, but nearer to home so no child care/early start issues. And I know the TAs and they are nice. Thanks for your support, the job got easier when I got ornery and decided that blow it I would do what I wanted to anyway. 5 days. Only 5 days.

Confidence goes puff....

2011-09-20T21:54:00.000+01:00

Why do I let myself have these crises of confidence? Why does one person get such a hold on my fragile ego? Begone, foul pest and let me feel brave again. Let me channel my heroes and stand against the forces of fear and failure to be the teacher I can be.
Just let me get through the next 4 weeks without being rude to the Teaching Assistant who makes it clear that I don't rate as a teacher in her (experienced but biased) eyes.
Please.

Oh My! Where am I?

2011-09-15T06:20:00.002+01:00

Back soon.... busy at work..... that's 5 days a week paid teaching ! (for 7 weeks!) Still trying to find a work/blog balance (and failing!)

The most iconic sight in Paris...

2011-08-26T16:53:00.000+01:00

My Lina (like 9 year olds do) had a fascination for the Eiffel Tower. Everywhere we went in Paris she kept on getting out her camera and just taking one more view of it; from the Louvre

The Arc de Triomphe

From the Musee Rodin

To just about any high point we could reach. (Centre Pompidou was a good'un)

My favourite view of it was this one.... almost centrally underneath

And this one from the lift going up

And the stairs going down.

I love the idea that when it was built for the 1889 exhibition it was as a temporary exhibit, and supposed to be dismantled after 20 years. I love that Gustav Eiffel bought the rights to visit his tower back and that he put a radio mast at the top so that it couldn't be taken down.
And I love that the Tower is on everything and in everything; t shirts, snow globes, keyrings, bags, bottle openers and all manner of tourist tat that 9 year old girls (and their Mummies) can't resist. I feel like a posh lady when I whip out my Paris mirrors to apply my gloss.
I could quote you chapter and verse on height, weight of iron, number of steps and all the other facts. I'll send you off to this site instead and finish with purely gratuitous eye candy instead. Enjoy!

Before we could read....

2011-08-23T22:48:00.000+01:00

We could read churches.

I have always loved the ideas that churches and cathedrals in particular are the Bible written for illiterate people. That stained glass and sculptures tell the story of God from early days to Kingdom come. I spent 4 years studying how to teach reading to little children and one of the first things we learned (thanks to Marie Clay having a prominence in pedagogy then that she seems to have lost now) was that every child can read, but just not words.

The example oft quoted back then (and more true today) was that a 3 year old would recognise the Golden Arches as the symbol for McDonalds and that reading is really just advanced symbol deciphering.

I wonder how complete illiteracy would affect me. Would I seek to make sense of the things and pictures around me? Would I stand and look at the windows and wonder who all the people were? Would familiar stories jump out at me and say, 'here is Noah, here is Abraham, look, see Jesus being baptised'.

Would I be irritated if someone were more visually acute than me, who knew what all the stories were.

Or would I be too busy picking a slim living from a few strips of land to care what was before me? Is literacy a treasure only available to the well fed? And has so much changed in 1000 years?

The carvings are from Notre Dame, the stained glass from Chartres cathedral.

Versailles; what a holiday home that would be!

2011-08-22T22:46:00.000+01:00

I know, I know, Versailles was the permanent base for the French court rather than a summer palace like the Austrians and Prussians had, but it must have been chosen for its position atop a hill as a gentle breeze blows even on the hottest Parisian days. We visited twice, once to see the gardens and once to join the shuffling queue through the palace.

I know that the space and vista can never be replicated in a small garden, but I love the fact that even on such a grand scale, Versailles and a small garden can have things in common.

Water features

Gnomes

A reasonable view of the house

and children playing with a pile of iron.

The most beautiful thing in the world...

2011-08-20T23:34:00.000+01:00

When you're only 9 years old, this is a good candidate. Little Princess really appreciated the magic of Paris.

So did I.

My Heart belongs to.....

2011-08-19T03:00:00.000+01:00

Paris.
I (like a lot of women) have to admit to occasional longings to be a french woman, or rather, more specifically, a parisienne. I never will be; I look rather more like an English carthorse than a slender french poodle, but dreams aren't rational. I wear a scarf occasionally and have french crushes when I read and watch as much as I can. And I dream of my alternate life where I live in Paris and absorb by osmosis the style and bugger you attitude they have. And occasionally I get to indulge in a visit to the city of Love (and stinky sewers, strange food that smells bad and mopeds swooming past as you try to cross the road. It's not personal, it's just Paris.)
This year we decided that a foreign jaunt was, at last, on the cards for our whole family. Where does one take a 13, 11 and 9 year old on their first foreign holiday? The seaside in Spain? Disneyland Paris? Florida? No. We went mad and found a house for rent in Chatou, about 12 km outside Paris. We went and lived a parisien life just for two weeks.
I wish I could recommend the house which in so many ways was ideally placed for living the dream, but there are problems with the place that I couldn't impose on you (ahem; English owner, no oven, electronic code lock and strange things going on. Nuff said) but we enjoyed our time around and about. I'm still in Paris, still holding on to the last vestiges of holiday time. Loading my photos today has given me a chance to go back in my memory and to remember....
The Eiffel Tower.... by day

and night.

Les Invalides. Love him, or hate him, but Napoleon had style.

Iconic views

Windows to shop in

And everywhere, everywhere style and science with just a hint (ok a wide stripe) of self satisfaction.

Can I create an everyday Paris in Liverpool? Can I be a parisienne in Woolton?
Or must I dream of my next visit and wait my time?

Thank God for Amelie.

My best friend for afternoon tea....

2011-07-14T17:15:00.000+01:00

I have three children; two boys and a girl. It took me until last (cold) winter to get any of the lads to drink any warm drink and even then it was hot tomato soup in a mug because, "Hey, Mum, it's a food, not a drink."

But my daughter is a mini-me. If I do something it must be good. If I swear, it must be allowed, if I wear my jimjams to put out the bins then, hey, wearing jimjams all day must be good. Actually I let them away with that at least once every holiday, although it's really more a winter activity (or lack of) than a summer one, when the sun shines and getting outside is the best course of action. But I digress.

My mini-me does what I do. And this year that has included drinking tea. Chai, Earl Grey or Assam, she doesn't mind (although Earl Grey is her favourite)

She loves tea shops

and mugs of the hot nectar
and just acting like her heroine.

(at the moment, as a Hama making Mama that's me; but I know one day it will be someone else)

FYI; the tea shops shown here are
2nd picture; Merseyside Maritime Museum 4th floor. Afternoon tea including pot of tea and cakes with finger sandwiches for £7.50. Did us all for afternoon snack, and one person for late lunch with doggy bag (and, yes, they did doggy bags! Love the place.)
3rd and 4th pictures; Mad Hatters Tearoom, Chester. Lovely fairy cakes with glitter for a reasonable price and mis-match teapot of tea in a variety of flavours. You can sit in or sit out on the Rows and watch the world go by with the advantage of being opposite Liberty Bell for fabric and a lot of wishlisting!

Friends just pick up where they left off.

2011-07-13T19:57:00.000+01:00

My friend has been and gone. She visited for 5 days and then moved on. And what a good time we had!

This is my friend Karin. I've known her since we were 13. She stayed at our house as part of a cultural exchange visit between two bands. Our St Helens band used to go to Germany and the Handharmonika Spielring used to visit St Helens.
This is a picture of St Helens.

This is a picture of Holzminden.

Go figure who had the best side of the deal.

But we wrote to each other and kept meeting up through visits and trips. Karin worked in Middlesborough for 15 months and we kept meeting up in Durham.

Sometimes we didn't keep in touch.... at all. I'm sorry for the missed time.
Sometimes all we did was a Christmas card or a short email.

But when we get together we know we're friends. And we talk.... a lot..... drink tea and coffee..... go places ("No museums. The only culture I need is a cafe culture.")
And when the stay is over it hasn't been too long.

Waiting...

2011-06-30T12:05:00.000+01:00

For my friend from Germany. She's driving up from Stanstead and then, I think, a lunch out and a trip to the supermarket before afternoon tea on the lawn and a restful evening of gossip. A weekend of friendship still fresh after 30 years.

A real basket case.

2011-06-26T09:43:00.000+01:00

OK, admit it, who hasn't lusted after one of these?

Or these?

But £30 for a basket, even a lined one, is too much. I love the style of Cath Kidston but I hate the prices so I try and adapt as much as possible.

I went thrifting on Friday and found this in the local Barnardo's. It was 3.99 and in top condition, but the lining was light and cream, not my style at all. But that never puts one off, does it?

It came home with me, of course, and I set off making it a basket fit for a really well planned holiday in Paris (shortly to be experienced)

The lining material is Michael Miller's Eiffel Tower in red. I couldn't resist it.

The old lining became the pattern, cutting and sewing was a cinch and the hardest part was sewing the lining to the basket.

I was afraid I'd need a thimble but my long needle worked well enough without. I had 90 minutes and it took me 100.
By the time I had picked up the kids I just whipped the last part of the lining to the basket and sat down. I love it. It just holds enough and, since I am going to keep my money in a cross-the-body bag the fact that it is open isn't a big issue. My sunglasses, my camera, a bottle of water, the smallest cutest brolly in case and my Kindle. Enough to keep me happy for the weekend and beyond.

Now I have another inherited basket bag to line for my daughter. She, too, needs a chic bag for our continental jaunt.

Life goes blah....

2011-06-21T17:36:00.000+01:00

I hate money.
I hate it so much I don't want to keep it. If I get any I have to get rid of it. Right away. It burns me and makes me feel dirty.
But it follows me around.
It creeps up at the end of intershopping and reminds me that I need it, otherwise that lovely red top cannot be mine.
It laughs at me when I look at books. I need its paper to buy more paper.
That I need it for the food I want to make tonight.
That I need even a little for a packet of sweets to give my kids.
And it leaves me in a never ending stream of bills and expenses that just grow and grow. No matter that I paid the gas last year, I have to pay it again. The phone bill creeps into my bank and takes the price of my top away.
The water rates creep around and shoe horn themselves into the gap where my holiday spends should be.
Even the union takes the price of a coffee and a croissant off me.
Oh how I wish I was the Queen, who never sullies her hands with filthy lucre.
Or perhaps a vampire who doesn't need Sainsburys.
Or perhaps just gainfully employed so that my little mite were a little bigger.
No, a little bigger than that.

Just a little.

My my how time flies....

2011-06-20T10:48:00.000+01:00

I can't believe it's half way through the year already. And I'm behind already. How does that happen? I have a list of things to do today and it doesn't include a quick post here. And yet, here I am.
I wanted to post yesterday and had no time.
Happy Father's Day to anybody who is or stands in place of a father to somebody.
I have two special fathers in my life.

My Dad, who has had a bad year so far. He was diagnosed with throat cancer in March and since then life has been a round of doctors, operations, radiotherapy and struggling to get better. He still can't taste things, still has pain (more of an ache now, thank God) when he swallows and finds the tiredness of being ill tiring. He was never a sit still man and was working 3 mornings a week until they finally dragged him in for the operation. But..... it was throat cancer, thank God which has a good prognosis. And he should be OK again afterwards. Love you, Dad.

And my hero, the Father of my children.

We gave him books for Father's Day and cards that we made. We took him to Church where nobody even mentioned Fathers and then to see Kung Fu Panda 2 (love it; I am Po) and back for pasta and meatballs. Then a walk in the evening sunshine while we hold hands and appreciate how lucky we are to have him. Thank you, honey, for everything you do. Love you x

4.30am once upon a time in the west

2011-06-12T04:35:00.001+01:00

Can't sleep. Came down for drink of water. Found 'Once upon a Time in the West' was on. Love the music and had to stay until the end.

Sometimes insomnia has its good side.

Mine

2011-06-10T09:44:00.000+01:00

My 9 year old really likes Taylor Swift and I encourage her. At the moment Taylor dresses well, and definitely wears more clothes than Rhianna or Beyonce. Also, she writes her own material and dates men like Taylor Lautner so, what's not to like?

Princess plays her non-stop somedays and this is one of her favourite songs. It's also been going around in my head a lot this week, having begun examining just why so much stuff is mine. It's almost the first word a child learns to say after names. Anybody who has watched a two year old playing with a friend who suddenly yearns to play with a best loved toy will have heard the cries of 'Mine!!!!' echoing around the room. We're biologically wired to own stuff. The top caveman had the best knife, the best rocks to stretch the leather, the biggest club for the biggest sex appeal. We can see through archaeology that ownership denotes status; Sutton Hoo being probably the best known British grave find and Tutankhamun's tomb the best international. The bumper sticker reads,'The one with the most toys wins.'

And yet..... we are so wrong with this. Ownership becomes possession very easily. Watch an Apple follower defend their phone against the Android phenomenon (it's a simple matter of money for me; I can't afford an i-phone and I can afford a smartphone that does pretty nearly everything an i-phone does) and you will sometimes see the irrational defense of possession. I can't throw out anything crafty, and have to steal myself to give away wool or material that I know I will never use. BUT I KEEP IT.

I've been trawling through my possessions the past 2 weeks. I'm trying to set up my craft area but that's on a hiatus while I prepare a spare room for a friend to stay. Anybody who has seen the pictures of my spare room in the past will know that I am a pack rat. When my German friend hinted she would like to come over, my initial thought was 'Oh God, we have no where for her to sleep.' I was prepared to leave the mountain in place rather than make space for a friend I have known for 30 years now. That's possession.

My things are not ruling my life. I will not let them. I am clearing and decorating the room (yes, it will have a cupboard filled with the fabric I want to use that doesn't fit in the study area) and I will have my old friend to stay. And afterwards I will make sure to place my priorities in the right order; people first, things a very definite second. Expect more visitors, more meals and time passed with friends, more family occasions for spurious reasons.

I had a party for my birthday this years (first time in 13 years not counting the meal out for my 40th) and I will celebrate everything. It's been a hard couple of years for my extended family (Dad having cancer for one) and we are just lifting our heads above the parapet. I'm ready to realign my life and my values. I'm ready to put my time to good use. When I die, I won't be rich, I won't have loads of stuff but I will have memories and relationships built on community and coherence.

These are the best things that have ever been mine.

Mollie Makes number 2

2011-06-06T18:45:00.000+01:00

Wishlist;

Girls' Own Store

Shoreditch Sisters WI

Bath, especially The Makery

Posy Gets Cosy.... love the blue walls!

And more longings to make little felt creatures... that's before Little S sees the book! Lace from Clothkits and too many adverts to search today. I need another cup of chai and a free hour to check it again. Glad I subscribed.

Can I digitise my children?

2011-06-05T18:27:00.001+01:00

Or is there a law against it?
Ever since Willy Wonka miniaturized Mike Teevee the race to make children minimal has been on. My life has gone digital in so many ways, from the music player I use to the masses of digital photos that I take and still the quest goes on. Since I read about the new minimalists I have a hankering to be able to fit most of my possessions onto a laptop. A posh one, of course.
And the only thing that stops me is these three.

Do I save them as a Jpeg or an MP3 file? Decisions, decisions......

My heart will go on....

2011-06-03T07:54:00.001+01:00

Tuesday marked 100 years since the launch of the Titanic in Belfast and, I expect, the start of a year's build up to celebrating (commemorating?) 100 years since the tragedy. My children know the name but not the details so our feel-good movie on Tuesday had to be Titanic.
It's been years since I watched it and I had forgotten quite how good it was. The shipwreck is covered in detail and the information the movie gets across about what precisely went wrong without it being a lesson is amazing.
My children came away knowing that the ship was surrounded by a sense of hubris about its unsinkability, that there weren't enough lifeboats for everybody, that most 3rd class people died and that afterwards, only 7 survivors were picked up out of the water alive. And I had a quiet weep about the love story.

Anyway, yesterday we wanted a day out and decided to go to the Merseyside Maritime Museum to see their Titanic exhibition. It's only a part of a floor, but it highlights the events and the links between the city and the ship very well. They had a children's quiz which is always good to keep 9 year olds interested and the boys spent their time well occupied looking for places where more lifeboats could have been stored.

They decided in the end that stacking the boats like plates would have been a better idea, and that they could have fitted on an extra 44 lifeboats, with a people saving capacity of about 3000 people. I loved that this was their main focus; that they recognised the biggest problem and sought to solve it. In so many ways this is what education is about and I so want schools to be able to teach and learn in this way, but class sizes and budgetary constraints make it impossible. We came away with renewed respect for the people who did brave things on the ship; the captain going down with it, the band playing on until the end, the men who followed the Birkenhead drill of "Women and children first"
And our reward was a very reasonable £7.50 Afternoon Tea imbibed in the Maritime Dining Rooms on the 4th floor of the warehouse.... lovely finger sandwiches, a clotted cream scone, delicate cakes and a pot of Earl Grey for one all partaken with a view like this;

Liverpool still looks good after all these years.

Getting closer...

2011-06-01T10:19:00.000+01:00

How the study looks now....

I've moved in my pens and some books

Where these baskets are full of rubbish and books now,
the plan is to fill them with material in a couple of weeks

There should be a bit of space available.

Sewing shelf, see the Cath Kidston box?
And the Aldi coffee jars underneath?

And the computer is still here :o(

This tote carries most tools for papercrafts.

I'm pleased with the colour, it's not too dark or light. I had to keep the dark furniture (Billy bookcases from Ikea) but I lined the back with a roll of wallpaper. My 'stuff' is travelling in slowly. I can have 2 or 3 of the filing cabinet drawers and baskets to store material so I should fit quite a bit in. And I want to replace the plastic boxes that things like paints etc are in for baskets or tins, but that's an on-going project.But, for now and considering it's half term, I'm happy. I have a knitting project on the go, a crochet project lined up after that and a challenge to knit or sew a present for everyone in the family for Christmas. Yeah, right.

I can't show you....

2011-05-30T21:25:00.000+01:00

My study is painted!! Yes, finished (apart from the gloss) and lots of stuff in it already!
But DH is home and the children are around and the one thing I don't have time to do is upload photos.... so the finished (to a degree) product will have to wait. Tomorrow or tomorrow or tomorrow (to misquote Shakespeare) I will grab the precious time needed to get pictures on. I'm pleased with it.
And my long-time penpal from Germany is visiting in early July so I have a deadline to clear and clean the Family Room. Long enough to intensively work on it, get rid of all the baby stuff (my youngest is 9) and make it a truly multi-purpose room. Probably a good chance of painting it, too. That would be fun! Have a good week, I may post again if I get the chance. I want to show you my knitting, and my crochet and my cross stitch and my sewing treasures that I now have on an ever-growing craft list.

The Start of the Coup....

2011-05-26T16:55:00.024+01:00

I had plans for today.

I have red geraniums, blue Lobelia and sweet Alyssum to plant in my front hanging baskets.
My lawn also needs cutting. But that can wait. It's not high on my list of priorities.

But as the french say, "Il pleut" Il pleut chien et chats, I say. So no planting today.

So I take my little cup of tea, my paintbrush and a pot of paint and....

First stage in my coup complete. I have begun to paint and clear the 'stuff' that I don't want.

Is it blue or is it green? I have this argument with my kids.

Don't tell anyone.... but I'm staging a takeover.

2011-05-25T16:54:00.000+01:00

We have several rooms in this house the distinct usage of which is undecided.

This is our study. The computer's there, the books are there and because of its proximity to the front door any charity bags and boxes tend to congregate there. And get stuck there for ages.

In any one week the room can have at least 2 children cluttering it up. Jimbo seems unable to go on the computer ( especially on the Lego site) without a pile of bricks brought from the bedroom. And they never make it all back. Have you noticed that?

The Princess brings all her Littlest Pet Shop to watch Youtube, DP needs a pile of paper to record al the facts from obscure books and programmes that he is into. It's a mess.

But I have a dream. I have a really lovely dream.
I dream that one day the room will be computer free.

That the table will be clear and ready for a sewing machine.
That the shelves will be cleared of books we never read (or even use) and covered with baskets of yarn, material, books like this and this and this and that I will be able to sit there and create.
Virginia Woolf started me off.
Is that too much to ask?

The Uncommon Reader

2011-05-24T21:12:00.000+01:00

As I sit watching the State banquet live on TV (I'm a sucker for a state occasion) I couldn't help but notice that the pink flowers in front of the Queen are slightly higher than those in front of the rest of the table. This could just be a case of the triangularity of flowers or because Her Majesty is always sat in the centre of the table but having read this book, I know the reason is really because Her Maj has her paperback stood up in front of her place.

For such a short book, the Uncommon Reader is so funny. It has made me look at her in a new light and always makes us (DH and me) wonder whether she really does ask people what they're reading. It's a short book, but very quietly subversive in the way that only Alan Bennett can be. Oh, and he must read the audiobook. You can hear his voice as you read. Brilliant.

I so want to be a minimalist......

2011-05-19T22:36:00.000+01:00

Or to live simply. But I'm afraid I don't know how. From my childhood and the infamous three footsteps rule (as long as there is space on the floor for three footsteps to get into bed, the bedroom doesn't need tidying) to my life now and the small room of which the door cannot open, nor the room be entered into, I am not a minimalist.
And yet, I see the attraction.
I love the books (Kindle books now, no space occupied and nobody needs to know I am reading yet another book on clearing clutter) but I fail miserably on the application.
And yet.....
I keep trying.
I have been trying to get more organised this week.
I reorganised the photos on my computer into files and am at this very second backing them up onto an sd card. I used the googledocs application on my phone to eliminate the need for a large notebook and diary in my handbag, slashing the size and the weight of said bag in one go. I organised my wardrobe, chucking the worn/unworn/unloved and keeping only the clothes I know I will wear. I've scanned pages from my many craft magazines and passed them on to better homes. I'm working on the family room, chucking the broken and sending a lot off to charity. I feel sad I let it get this far. I feel I lost the point of life, which is not that the one with the most toys wins. And I worry that my children have already caught the more bug. I worry I won't be able to tell them 'stop! No! Don't do as I do, do what is right.' Is it too late for me and them? I hope not.
Life is full of second chances, Tomorrow (as Scarlett said) is another day.
And as long as there's laughter we'll get much done.

Mollie Makes

2011-05-17T11:57:00.000+01:00

Have you seen it?
Have you read it?

Did you like the little gift?

What was your favourite page?

Second issue out 9th June.

How lovely was yesterday?

2011-04-30T09:31:00.000+01:00

I know that commentators are always good at enthusing about any little event that passes by, but I think that some of the happiness yesterday wasn't faked or completely ironic. I really do think that the people who celebrated on the streets and gardens of the country had a good time. The shame as always is that it takes something big to remind people that celebrating together is such a bonding activity. The number of people interviewed who said that they had held a street party to build community was quite high. Wouldn't it be lovely if the spirit of yesterday lived on in a commitment by people to get together more, to know our neighbours more and to accept that community can only exist in a spirit of interdependence. Thankfully the Queen should give us another reason to celebrate next year, God willing. I'm planning my street party already, having spent yesterday taking my Dad for radiotherapy.

Gladiator

2011-04-05T20:57:00.002+01:00

Is there any better line than Russell Crowe's " My name is Maximus Decimus...." I'm watching with my 13 year old and he has just cheered Russ on!

Room.....

2011-01-17T10:39:00.000Z

I've just finished watching C4's TV Book Club and they were reviewing Room by Emma Donoghue.
I read this last October, I think, when I sat down one Friday with a cup of tea expecting to just look at a couple of pages and then get on with my life and ended up not moving until I had finished the book. It was mesmerising.
The story is told from the point of view of 5 year old Jack who, with his mother, is imprisoned in an 11 foot square room by a kidnapper. It has heavy overtones of Natascha Kampusch and the Fritzel case in as much as you read it knowing that the truth can be even weirder and, in the wrong hands, it could have been sensationalist, adventure-led and plot driven. But the book is told by Jack, in the words and understanding of a 5 year old and it has a naive innocence that stops any reader feeling macabre or voyeuristic. His time in and out of the room is so beautifully told that I found myself crying several times. The moment when Jack meets a breeze for the first time is absolutely heart-rending.
I was hoping that it would win the Man Booker prize, but it didn't. It would have been lovely to say that I'd read another Booker prize winner.

Zen and the art of Sunday TV

2011-01-16T16:30:00.000Z

I always had a problem with Sunday night. Perhaps it's because I know that the day after Sunday is Monday and school starts again, perhaps I really put the kybosh on it by going to college and living in just for week nights, meaning Sunday was the night that I left the bosom of my loving family for a cold and noisy student block. Even now the Howard's Way theme tune reduces me to tears. Sunday night TV was not a highlight of my viewing week.

But if anything can make me happy on Sunday it's Zen. I have really enjoyed these fast police thrillers, which are made so much more appealing by the backdrop of a glorious and eternal Rome.

I love cities; Paris, Vienna, Rome; I'd live in any of them for a year. And Zen has been a real burst of Italian sun in the winter. With sharp suited men ogling the Italian women (we look good, we know, but we don't care and we're not stuck up so come and have a go if you think you're hard enough) and mad mad mad driving I have been reliving my week(s) spent in Rome and planning ahead. We go continental this summer, hiring a house in the suburbs of Paris for 2 weeks. Perhaps next year we could go Italian; an appartment in Rome. anyone?

And I love the idea that although they (the BBC) thought they could use English actors as Italian men, the women are all Italian actresses. It's the body shape, I think.

Welcome to Kris Kindle

2011-01-15T23:48:00.000Z

Last September (and probably a big reason why my blogging slowed down last year) I got a Kindle.
I resisted for a long while, watched the kinks being ironed out and which e-reader was going to be a biggy and then decided the time was right. I buy roughly a book a week, so 52 books are added to my shelves each year at least (not counting presents, kids books and books that others pass on to me) I worried that I wouldn't like it, that I'd miss page turning, the scent of a book and the tactile feel of the page.
I love it.
I don't miss any of the sensory elements of a book, because I love the interaction with the story free of any problems. I love the slight size of the machine, the sheer convenience of 3,500 books at my fingertips and the fact that at midnight I can buy a book.
I love the fact that I can read embarassing books and nobody knows because there is no cover. It has made me read so much more than I thought I would, over 50 books since September and that I have read or re-read several classics simply because they were free.

I'd love to buy a Kindle for every 8 year old preloaded with classic kids books to enjoy. The WiiBox generation would probably enjoy reading from a screen more than a book, and anything that gets kids reading must be good.

Long Time, no see

2011-01-15T23:04:00.000Z

Wow! Six months off... no, nothing interesting going on, just sheer laziness and a little clearing/tidying/sabbatical work. A little thinking and being rather than doing or blogging. Like all habits, blogging ceases to be a crucial part of your life the longer that you keep off it. That's neither good nor bad; blogging is a good way of meeting like minded people but it can be a time sapper, and I needed my time. Life goes on and I'm living it as well as I can. Personal circumstances are making time short. But this is 2011 and I will try and be back properly more often now.

And the Winner is....

2010-05-11T16:14:00.000+01:00

Wow! What a battle! I don't think it matters what your politics are, could the election campaign have been more interesting, the day itself such a tense and emotion filled 24 hours and the result so..... disappointing. Perhaps it's the Christmas balloon effect. You know, when you look forward to an event sooooo much and then it happens with as much excitement as a balloon with a slow release that lets the air out with a slightly damp and rude noise.

For the past 5 days it's been a waiting game. A game of patience; a time of political flimflammery. And this would happen every time under PR? I'm not sure I'm cut out for that. Little thing like ruling the country at stake, you see. Hopefully something will be decided soon.

A Quiet Saturday....

2010-04-24T17:44:00.000+01:00

After a busy week involving 3.5 days work and a day off with my lovely DP, I really feel like I've earned a quiet Saturday. My plan was to do the cleaning I hadn't got to in the evenings (out 3 out of 4 evenings since Monday!!!), go and watch the kids swim in their last proper swimming lesson and then go to a friends housewarming.
Ha. Fat chance.
I'm home with two thirds of the children, no house warming and half the washing done. The princess is not feeling well. She has tummy ache and is spending a lot of time rushing to the toilet. There's nothing for it. We need a little Mummy and daughter creating time, and I know just the book.

The Lina loves making, but she's still a beginner. Finding an appropriate book for her was nigh on impossible. I remember having an Usbourne How to Sew book that I read until it disintegrated and was searching for something similar for her. I think I've found it.

I got her this book last Sunday and she has been inseparable from it since. She even takes it to bed with her and today, as she lies there groaning and clutching at her tummy (memo to self; read 'The Boy who Cried Wolf' to her soon and remind her that a blood-curdling 'I'm going to be sick' cry is not necessary just for a cup of water) she has it by her.

It is a lovely starter's book, with simple things to make and do, using embroidery, knitting and sewing. They're basic stuff, yes, almost not needing instructions, really, but the photography is cupcake cute and the items are small enough to dream of doing without being too long to finish.... my daughter doesn't need to start her life with a load of UFO's hanging there.

So our Saturday is an At Home. My felt box is coming out, her cross stitch threads are in demand, and a little making will take her mind off the stomach. Bless.

Feast or famine....

2010-04-22T11:10:00.008+01:00

After a fruitless term spent trying to get on the books of a new supply agency and only 2.5 days supply (enough to keep the wolf from snapping, but still firmly at my door) I finally got accepted by my new agency on.... Maundy Thursday. Great. No work until after Easter, a week later than anyone else as my kids were having the 'trial' holiday of first two weeks in April whenever Easter is. This is my first week of work for them and so far they have supplied me with 2 full days and the promise of 1 more that I could have had except.... the old agency got there first. Why are supply jobs like buses? You wait ages for one and then three come along at once. I'm not complaining, just making the most of my only free morning this week. The washing is calling, but I'm slightly deaf. I'd far rather watch the debates held by the Daily Politics this week; foreign affairs and yummy! economy.

What we're desperately missing in this election is a Barak Obama. I don't think any body really 'gets' the kudos that he did.... forget whatever his policies are/were and how well the man is doing, there was a vision to his campaign that we don't have.

A new hope, a new challenge. Perhaps we desperately need a Luke Skywalker, a New Hope to bring our politics into a more democratic, more caring 21st century.

Certainly it strikes me as strange that a party can lag behind in the polls and still be projected to get the most seats. Applying that to a classroom situation, that's like saying that the kid who scores least on the test gets the award for best pupil.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Change comes from below; we need to stand up for the country we want and to work together to make it fair. Don't ever say politics is none of your business. If this is our instrument of power then it's our job to wield it and wield it well.

I don't say vote for him, him or him. I say just vote.

How many cousins do I have?

2010-04-15T17:03:00.009+01:00

I remember once as a little girl asking my Mum how many cousins I had.

Mum was an only child so the number of first cousins on her side was zilch, of course.

Dad was the eldest of 9 so there were (at that time) quite a few cousins. Now I can categorically state that I have 29 first cousins. I counted them, with my Aunty Roberta, four times, with much hushing of questioners and hasty recounts (does Worra have 5 or 6? Who came next in Tess' 4?) and we decided that, yes, I have 29 cousins.

With my family there are 33 cousins on our step. (Cousins in my house are always done by steps; that way you can actually get first and seconds and removals into some sort of order) We don't assemble often; Dad's homeland is Northern Ireland and a trip there is not usually in order. It's a shame, but that's life.

But last August I am glad to say that the saddest of events lead directly to a happy event. My Uncle Kevin died; that's Aunty Roberta's husband. He was a lovely man and a lot of cousins made the effort to get to the funeral. And in the mad meetings that form an Irish funeral the cousins there complained that it only seemed to be sad events that pulled us together.

And that this was wrong; that good things should unite us as well. And so, Cousins Day was born.

Last Easter Monday 19 full cousins and sundry other halves and second cousins all assembled at Collow, the family homestead, and had a fun day. We shot rifles, did clay pigeon shooting and archery and had altogether too good a time.

There was a trophy and a presentation ceremony and a winning team, and a barbecue and cakes and always, always a lot of talking. Meeting cousins that were only teenagers last time you saw them, meeting children that were babes in arms, talking to cousins that you hadn't seen in years and more years. It was lovely.

I have cousins and I like it. My childhood years were spent in exile, due to the troubles in Ireland and the cost of travel, and I wonder whether I would be closer to some of my cousins than I am had I spent years looking forward to a summer spent roaming the hills of Tyrone, but that is sheer regret. Circumstances beyond my control.

All I know is in my middle age I have a sense of family and forefathers that I could never be sure of in my youth. I am half Irish and proud of that, much as I am half English and proud of that, too. And the event was so popular that it must happen again (2 years time is the rematch)

And the winners? Meet my cousin Amanda, my cousin Fiona, my first cousin once removed Bronagh, my nephew Michael and me. We won! (winners photo is not uploading yet; I have to cook lamb & potatoes; will post it on later!)

Easter passes too quickly....

2010-04-14T17:51:00.002+01:00

I know lots of you are back at school and work, and I am lucky to have an extra week off after Easter to spend with my gang, walking in the wood, picking up bags of chips to share at lunch time and generally just passing time together, but 2 weeks is not enough. I long for every holiday to be a 6 week long space to breathe and be together.

We had afternoon tea with butterfly cakes on Monday. Yummy. My sons showed me what to do with a decent piece of wood on Tuesday and today we have been in the woods. The bluebell leaves are peeping through, while daffs bounce in the breeze. Tomorrow is a day off while my 3 spend time with cousins and grandparents and Friday will be a walk in the park. The sun is too good to ignore.

How many weeks til May holiday?

Can I homeschool?

This is why I do supply.

2010-03-01T11:58:00.006Z

After a lovely weekend with the family in Wales, Number 2 son announced last night that he felt 'sick' (just at tea time) and today is entitled to a day (or two) at home. This is my bouncy child. He has sat still for three hours so far. I'm hoping to get him to sleep this afternoon, a situation virtually unheard of.

So I'm home, free to catch up on the washing from the weekend

and to indulge in a little light reading.

What are you doing on this Friday afternoon?

2010-01-15T14:12:00.002Z

I'm multi-tasking; cleaning my living/dining room, watching Kirsty's Homemade Christmas, talking to you on the 'puter and getting on with my blanket.

Comfort food.

2010-01-14T13:42:00.000Z

I poured my lunch out yesterday and carried it in to the living room, put it on the chest and went off to get something. The irony/suitability of where I'd put it didn't occur to me until later. See the magazine?

Broccoli and stilton soup. The broccoli had been gradually browning at the back of my fridge, the stilton was left over from Christmas. I softened an onion, a stick of celery finely chopped and the broccoli, diced for want of a better description, and then added two potatoes peeled and chopped. A litre of water from the kettle and a good simmer later, my soup was done. I put in some stilton, seasoned to taste and whizzed it to a pulp in my mixer.

It is heavenly. Real comfort food, as the snow fell slowly past the window.

I also couldn't resist the next magazine front. Is 2010 your happy year? What are you doing to be happy?

Here we go again....

2010-01-13T11:10:00.009Z

A new blanket for the living room.

It's a yellow and red room, and so warm in winter.

I love snuggling under a blanket and watching or sewing or reading, or just being.

But I also like having a toasty blanket behind my back as insulation. So far the room has 3 blankets and a quilt. Time for another one. A granny square blanket. My third.

I love the colours in this blanket, cream, yellow (the colour of good egg yolks; I feel the need for the first and last time to knit an egg. I'll sit still 'til it passes) a deep orange colour that defies a name and two shades of red, barely visible difference but important since I have two balls of one and 9 balls of the other.

I'm going to do a square of 9 granny squares together and then a treble border all around until such time as the red runs out. A double edge of yellow and snuggle under with a coffee. Bliss.

I can't help it, everytime he says it I cry.

2010-01-12T19:40:00.004Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?

And everytime I cry, my kids go "Oh for heaven's sake!"
Don't they know I'm a human being?
Sadly missed already, Doctor. *sigh*

Alone again, naturally

2010-01-12T14:33:00.004Z

They are all back in school! A house to myself.... several precious and shining hours alone to pass with no one to talk to, no plans, no ultimate goal.
I love the occasional space to fritter and I have frittered many days away. I had every intention of frittering this one,but......
I found I felt lonely. Once they had all gone and I was washed, dressed, sitting on the settee and thinking, "What shall I do?" I find I miss them. They are not the constant millstone they used to be (who doesn't get the 24/7 nature of babies and toddlers; lovely suffocation) but independant and fun personalities. They're a background noise that I love.
There was no cure but to go out. So, reader, I set off with my notepad puter and got it fixed (after about a month incommunicado) which meant I spent a happy hour talking to the guy in Curry's. Back home, to watch Wallander in the original and to blog, perchance to dream. I have also done a load of washing, tidied the hall and made a filling for a mined beef pie.
I can always fritter tomorrow.

We sit and watch, we sit and wait...

2010-01-10T14:47:00.008Z

Will enough snow fall to make school late?

I'll leave you to guess whose fervent wishes are for more snow and who (which mother) is ambivalent to another couple of days with three in a room and too much to do to DO anything sensible; perhaps I should teach the boys to knit, or make cakes to decorate, but I can't get them off the TV, the computer, the Wii.......

Oh blow it. I'll go for the more snow option. It's time the lads learnt to sew.

This will be an iconic image in years to come.

2010-01-08T13:49:00.008Z

When I saw this on the news last night, it made me go Wow! Who would ever believe that Britain could look like this? And still the big freeze goes on.

My boiler stopped working this morning. British Gas (with whom I have a service agreement) won't send anyone out until Sunday. They won't guarantee Sunday. It is 'busy'. I know they're busy; lots of people have problems in the winter, that's what we pay for. I got very Margot on the phone to them, but it was still only Sunday that was available.

Then I did what I should have done in the first place. I spoke to my Dad. And he said, "Check your water pipe leading out of the boiler and pour a kettle of water over it. Your brother's did exactly the same yesterday." So I did, and guess what? It's fixed! So no gasman on Sunday. Yippee! Apparently it's quite common on condenser boilers, especially Worcesters. If you have problems with the boiler turning off, check it, too. Any thing to save three days of freezing and a workman going 'tsk' and shaking his head. Off for a cuppa now in front of a toasty warm radiator. Have a good day!

Post script;

What I should have added is that I told British Gas I would contact an independent fitter and bill them; only to be told by the young man at the other end that they wouldn't pay, that my chances of getting someone were slim to none existent and that they would charge me horrendous odds.

Not so. Barry the Gasman's wife took my details and said he would ring me back and possibly visit me 'today' (that is, the day the boiler broke) and he would ring me... which he did. He was pleased that I'd cured the fault myself, told me he would have given me that advice over the phone himself, didn't know why BritGas didn't, and that he could have come by that afternoon rather than have me freeze. Barry also said he's always at the end of a phone for me. I can feel a stand coming on; the end of paying for a useless service agreement and a relationship with a small, independent gasfitter. Is this another example of the small being beautiful?

A Christmas Catch-up

2010-01-06T08:52:00.006Z

Hello Everyone! It's twelfth night and I'm on a desperate catch up (again)

The children were off on a snow day yesterday and again today. It's lovely, but I had today down in my brain as a day for me after the holidays and madness that is a modern Christmas. Perhaps a coffee out, a walk through the park, and boxing up my decorations to the sound of Coldplay and Paloma. A sort of grown up wind down.

Instead, I'll be boxing up decorations accompanied by the strains of Mini Ninjas or Zelda Warrior Princess on the Wii. Thank goodness I got my MP3 player. At least I can be isolated from the round and round tunes in my head!

But I'm not complaining. Snow days (especially one as lovely and blue-skied as this one is promising) are days of grace, unexpected holidays and a source of memories for their futures. So, instead of my coffee, we'll have hot chocolate and marshmallows at home. Instead of my solitary walk, we'll walk to the chip shop for a warm cone of chips to eat as we make our breath stream like engines. And instead of boxing up the decorations with reverence and love, I'll do what I did last year and frantically shove them in a box (hopefully labelled right) and get them back into the garage a.s.a.p so that we can get out and enjoy our life together.... sounds fair enough. I'll have my grown up day tomorrow. (or Friday)

Christmas at the Angel's Cottage

2009-12-26T09:50:00.001Z

We had a lovely time;

Cookies on Christmas Eve (one for Santa; two for me)

Opening presents on the Day itself

A Sansa clip and a Sylvanian caravan for the Princess,

Wii with games and extras for the Boys

A beautifully decorated table; done by my 7 year old daughter. I have passed on the mantle.

Christmas Dinner; turkey and all the trimmings complete with silly hats and crackers (97p from Tesco but they were red and white and just looked so right for our table)

Doctor Who; yes, I cried, but not as much as I will on New Year's Day.

And an early night, ready for the next day.

2009-12-25T16:06:00.001Z

Wishing everyone a joyful Christmas....

2009-12-24T09:15:00.000Z

And a happy, peaceful and love-filled 2010

Where does the time go?

2009-12-17T16:38:00.002Z

I seem to say that more and more at the moment.
What have I been up to? Not a lot, really, making gifts, wrapping them, tidying enough that any body could drop by and I wouldn't feel too guilty, at least for most visitors. We've done the usual visit to St Nick (on St Nicholas day, how well arranged was that?) and now I'm facing my last morning alone for two weeks. A little light house work, a couple of present finishing, coffee with friends, it'll be an average day.
The rate I'm blogging this will probably be my last post this year, so to all my friends out there;
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

And the countdown begins....

2009-10-16T14:53:00.002+01:00

It's that wonderful time of year when every day seems to bring a new magazine..... and this one is always first.

Unfortunately, no pictures since my camera has run out of juice. But so far I've seen ideas for decorations and enough mince pies to make the most blase Santa happy. I'm off now to make a coffee and read a little snow-covered pleasure on a Friday.
Have a good weekend & see y'all Monday!

The Bolter by Frances Osborne

2009-10-05T09:43:00.007+01:00

You know you like Austen when....

2009-09-28T10:55:00.008+01:00

The sight of people wandering around in regency costume doesn't make you laugh, just utter a wistful sigh that you really had the balcony necessary to carry off an empire line.

I don't, really, not without the sort of engineering works that made the Victorians great.

I was in Bath with my DH and we walked miles..... and ate chocolate cake, went to the Jane Austen centre, visited the Roman baths and ambled home via Worcester. A good weekend was had by all.

I love Bath, it has such a wonderful coloured stone. We live in a sandstone area, so all our stone houses are red (which I love, too) and the visual stimulus of a different coloured stone very often makes you appreciate the houses that, at home, you just pass by in silence.

It had a Christmas shop called December 25th.... look, they let me take photos to show you! The website isn't a shop, but it is a showcase and does have contact details so that you can visit.

The little interiors shop called Hansel und Gretel stocks everything German... as I walked in through the door, the cuckoo clocks went off. Good timing. I gave in to a small hook for my aprons (presently just strewn over a door) and left before I could do any more damage.

Bath Abbey had a wonderful display of caligraphy and embroidery that one lady, Sue Symons, had done; two sets, one to celebrate the life of Jesus and a set about the Creation. With such intricate and decorated letters and the textural delights of mixed collage and embroidery it is worth a visit to see. It's on til the 2nd November.

And I gave in to temptation at Cath's little emporium... a new purse that spoke to me, calling quietly, "You need me... you really do...." So, I gave in. I can resist anything... except temptation.

All Change!

2009-09-16T16:20:00.002+01:00

I'm busy, you can't expect me to blog and change rooms over, can you? The family room will have the toys and the box room will have my craft stuff. we tried it once before, but they kept moving in and it didn't work. Now I have a bureau coming from my parents and lots of shelves I know it will. I need to craft. Photos tomorrow (or the day after. I may never get out alive!)

I am lusting again....

2009-09-14T15:26:00.010+01:00

My heart longs for non-stop music, has done a while, but I just can't get organised. My niece has an i-pod nano, but I can't dream of spending that much money on an electrical item. Mr DH doesn't see the point of them, and I can't argue in as much as I think it is a lot to spend on something so small.
Also, there's the colour issue; it has to be red.

I thnk I may have found a workable solution; the sansa fuze 4gb in red, with an extra card or something to double the capacity. And at least half the price. I know what I want for Christmas (101 days to go) and I just have to be sensible in asking for it. Please.

So I found e-music had a 50 free downloads offer on... ok, so nothing really fashionable or pop, not a jot of Oasis or Girls Aloud, but I found Leigh Nash

and Fleet Foxes

so I'm happy. Sixpence none the richer, weird name, weird sound but good. And I have got my listening for December planned already. Tee hee. Now all I need is the said sansa fuze.
101 days to go. Did I say that?

Shifting seasons....

2009-09-12T22:05:00.007+01:00

Watching the leaves change colour is an annual delight, but am I the only one who thinks it is too soon?

watching the clouds race by.....

2009-08-28T07:22:00.004+01:00

Early morning, sat in a large window overlooking the Irish sea. On a clear day I can see Anglesey. No such luck today. Instead I get to watch clouds of all shades of grey and white rush past. I can hear the wind hammering against the house, and the white horses are racing for the shore.

Great British Holiday. Don't you just love it?

Happy Birthday to a boy that's 9!!!

2009-08-18T10:11:00.006+01:00

This is my number 2 son (that's birth order, not preference)

He was born 9 years ago today at 10.30 at night. I didn't get a lot of sleep that night; not just because the hormones of what is potentially one of the most magical things I have ever done were rampaging around, but also because I had the Goblet of Fire as pain control and I had to finish it.

This is my sensible son, very practical, physical and even tempered (unless it's a game and he loses. That's when the monster appears.) He's more of a were-wolf than a vampire, and really more of the hero than the monster. Good at maths, smiley, just very cute.

G force and a BBQ at his Grandmas. What a way to celebrate!

It's still August....

2009-08-13T19:37:00.006+01:00

So why does my heart feel like September?

My Mum gave me some nectarines and pears today, from France, where she has been on her holidays.

I was going to photograph them this afternoon and only just now got the camera out. It's seven o'clock, and as I tried to get the light to be... well, light enough, it occurred to me that the evenings of long golden sunlight are fading fast.

Only 3 weeks until school. Half a holiday gone......

We shopped today for pens and pencils, new pencil cases and a mobile phone. Moving on, always moving on. You have to buy now because come September the aisles are full of Halloween stuff.... and all too soon Christmas. The dreaded C word. I don't remember summer's lease having this short a date when I was young. Perhaps I need to slow down.

Connected to slowing down, in a manner of speaking, I got this today. Economy Gastronomy. The series is running on BBC2 at the moment and, since I enjoyed last week's episode and recognised a style of cooking I try to do (make one meal stretch for three) I got the book. It's not bad. The big basis is that you have a bedrock recipe eg a minced beef ragu and use it, either that week or frozen into another week, for at least two tumbledown recipes. I try to do this, but call it Main Meal and Resurrection food. Last night's TV meal was a beef daube that became a pasta sauce and pasties. I will be trying that one for sure, I have a thing going with pasties at the moment.

The programme's aim is to cut food bills down. Since last night's family spent £ 330 A WEEK on food, there was a lot of cutting that could be done. Me, I try and keep the food down below £100.... am I starving my kids?

No ready meals, no instant dial takeaway, no every body eats alone and different. It's like a return to (hateful phrase) 'Family Values', which is long overdue. In my house there are two choices for dinner; take it or leave it. Oh, apart from if it's pesto pasta, which I don't like, and then I'm happy to make myself something else. Who said hypocrite?

A New Organiser....

2009-08-12T15:45:00.008+01:00

A new organised me? I don't think so. As anyone who has ever taken part in a swap with me knows, I do not make deadlines. I don't altogether know what day it is most times. And I can't tell you what the kids are up to today, let alone tomorrow or next week.

But I love organising things; filofax, notebooks, diaries. Part of my problem is the quest for the perfect organising tool. It doesn't exist, I know that, but I still seek the best diary, calender, folder or filing system. Perhaps, like the Holy Grail, it can only be claimed by somebody truly pure in heart. Oh, well, counts me out. I only want to get organised to make more time for myself. Actually, if I don't bother getting organised and just don't care, I'll have loads of time. Might try that approach this year.

But until I really can't be bothered, I'll keep searching.

My current organiser is a pocket filofax. I had a pretty poppy covered one, but it got damaged and the ringbinder in the middle fell out. Yesterday in Chester I priced up a new one. £20 at least for a mock leather or a canvas bound pictorial one! They were OK, but just not me. Think again, try again.

I replaced the old binding with the outer cover of a favourite notebook, pretty much just by brute force and by using my thumbnails. It seems to have worked. I don't think it will last forever, but it will last until it falls off and by then I will either have moved on to the next all-singing, all-dancing organisational tool, or just get another cover to replace this one with.

And the cost of my new, suits-me-so-well filofax? Well, assuming that I already had the full value out of the notebook (and I did)

Zilch.

A truly frugal little exercise.

And my whole handbag coordinates, don't you think?

Chester, Chester, I love Chester.

2009-08-11T19:26:00.006+01:00

DH has taken a day off work today and we went out.

Chester is a lovely old city near to us. It has half-timbered shops and roman ruins. It has lovely shops, a park that has clean benches and a definite feel of respectable gentility about it. I'd love to show you a load of photos but I didn't take any. Just google Chester, UK and you get the picture.

And it has a pasty shop.

I love pasties. My childhood is full of memories of eating cornish pasties at the side of tourist attractions in Devon and Cornwall and drinking milk straight from the bottle with my brothers. I think my Mum even has photos of us sat in a row, with bottles and half-dead pasties really clearly visible.

I love pasties as a food memory, and today as I counted up the points (about 8 to 10) and ate on regardless (no points on chocolate today) it occurred to me that I have never tried to recreate a pasty in my own kitchen. They are, like a lot of things, something which every self-respecting wife could make at one time and we have delegated responsibility for to a professional. Baby care being another.

I think part of the reason I like the blogging world is because I read about people who have claimed their skills back. Crochet, knitting, sewing, gardening, decorating, childcare, animal husbandry, forestry, there is an army of bloggers out there who can do all these things.... and I love that. I am not green fingered. I will never knit a sock. But I know that I can do things and that I don't need to automatically look for the professional to do it for me.
That I don't need to spend £20 on a new Filofax, thank you very much, especially since the old one has LITERALLY fallen apart, leaving me with a ring-binder middle that I can.... hopefully.... fit into a new cover. A Polka dot red cover. A unique cover. My filofax. My way.

And no professional in sight.

Pictures to follow later this week.

A late Spring Cleaning was called for....

2009-08-09T15:11:00.012+01:00

I am no domestic Superwoman. I manage a little dusting and as little vacuuming as I can as much as I can.... which is strange, since I appreciate a clean and sparkling house as much as the next woman.... I'm just not sure I should need to do the work.

But this week has been almost spring-like in my cleaning. I find myself pulling out and sorting cupboards, drawers, bags and the bottom of settees with a zeal that is frightening (I am NOT nest building, I will never need to nest build again)

There was the strange case of the loo in the daytime (Mr K never noticed that the walls had changed colour until later that evening; at which point he asked me what time that night I had managed to do the painting; normal service will be resumed as soon as possible)

The kitchen has had a good wipe over and the living room had a corner cleared. But of all my work this week the one I am most proud of is my bedroom.

I love my bedroom; it is possibly my favourite room in the house. Everything in it is chosen for its meaning or its beauty, a lot of them were gifts or inherited and I don't think I could easily part with them. Except if someone offered to buy me a loft appartment in New York and I needed to buy bigger closets there. I'd manage that, somehow.

The bedhead, wardrobes and chests of drawers were bought before we married and delivered 3 weeks after the ceremony. They take me back to the days of living out of a suitcase in our own house, sitting on deck chairs and watching black and white TV. Happy days!

The ottoman was Mr K's uncles; we inherited it off him last year. It's filled, of course, with spare bedding, including the blanket I crocheted. I will, eventually, paint it a softer colour, possibly white or pink, but the sage green does for now

The pram was The Princess' first dolls pram. She got it when she was about 18 months. It's such a cute little wicker one, I had to keep it. It has my own Teddy, Toby and some of my dolls from childhood. Yes, they are Sasha dolls, including a naked one. She is awaiting clothes.

The dried flower picture is frommy wedding bouquet. My Mum arranged for it to be dried and framed. I love it; it was red roses and white freesias. It smelled so good the day after the wedding, that it seemed a shame to go on honeymoon. But, Florence beckoned (I am a Room with a View fan) so, off we went.

My bedside table has some of my favourite books and a whole load of Persephone Classics. It was lovely today to see them featured in the Mail on Sunday. I love their elegant (cerebral, the paper described them as,) covers. They go with blue, pink, yellow and green. Truly adaptable books, suit any room scheme!

The dolls (bought) are me and the Princess; the black cat I made at 11 in needlework lessons in school. I made a whole family; Mum, Dad and little kitten with a matchbox suitcase and a set of clothes. I fiddled every Wednesday for a term to make everything the cool cat needs. Unfortunately, I also played with them for years. Black Kitten is the only bit left.

The dressing table is a tall chest of drawers. I love a busy table; this one is packed with everything I need to keep me looking human. The lace doily was handmade by Mr K's grandmother; the crystal clock was our 15th anniversary present off my parents, the crystal pots were gleaned from charity shops and family whenever I got the chance.

And, finally, on the door are these little Bunnies. I made them for Mr K and me when we were two. His name's Peter, Peter rabbit, see? I used to joke that we would call the kids Jessica and Roger, with Stuart (known as Stu)as an alternative. No, we didn't. I loved fiddling with Fimo. I must get some out. Fimo hearts sounds like fun.

Summer holidays were made for....

2009-08-07T17:11:00.012+01:00

Building tents.

We raided the garage for bamboo and wood, nicked every blanket out of the living room (can you tell I like red?) and set to work with nothing more than masking tape and wool.

We have every kind of tent I could think of;

the teepee,

the Indian summer tent (canopy only; I don't have enough white sheets to make all four sides. Princess not happy with this.)

and a traditional triangular tent with my comfiest red blanket as the roof.

And me? I don't get a tent, only a parasol that I had to buy myself, with a glass of blackcurrant (the sun's not over the yardarm yet) and a couple of magazines for company.

I predict that we are here for tea and into the night. Can't think how to do a campfire safely, and I haven't got any marshmallows so s'mores are out, but we might make do with tomato soup and burgers if it gets cold.

Ans when your tent gets boring/ cold/ too sunny, what do you do?

Move in with your brother.

Civilisation has nothing to offer more fair...

2009-08-07T10:10:00.012+01:00

Than a decent toilet with a good flush and soft toilet roll.

For the past 8 years, since we moved in, the toilet downstairs (the 'guest' toilet) has been a nightmare vision of dirty cream loo and stained basin, peeling striped vinyl walpaper and a light the hideousness of which defies description. And I'm good with words.

I know, I know, I could have decorated around the brown-stained sanitary ware, but my heart always sank when I went in there. Which strikes me as wrong.

Even if it is the smallest room in the house it should be a warm, welcoming and above all clean place.

So, this summer we replaced the broken toilet. Plain white, neat, smooth and no ledges in the bowl to cause bad staining. Then in July I stripped the walls. The wallpaper had been put on over some cheap and tacky white paint which peeled off in places so they were white and patchy now, still not calm inducing. I needed to paper, but didn't feel inclined so I stuck on a coat of yellow paint. Still not good enough.

Then yesterday I went for it. two coats of Apple Grove and Ahoy bathroom and kitchen paints. It's thick paint; two coats has covered my white and plaster patchwork walls, and the rest is obvious. I am now the proud owner of a restful, relatively tidy cloakroom.

It has everything the modern cloakroom needs.

Chi chi soap, handmade in Northumberland.

Reading matter for those in need of inspiration.

A spider plant to remove all the air-borne toxins.

And space on the wall for a picture, as yet unchosen. I want to use my poster of this, but the Princess seems to feel it's inappropriate for a bathroom. What do you think?

You are all cordially invited to drop by anytime you need the facilities.

Job done.

Yes, there are six children in the house.

2009-08-05T15:56:00.010+01:00

So far this afternoon I have connected up the new modem (computer still not working; only my laptop. That's MY laptop; they can't use it), decided on a green and cream theme for my downstairs loo, posted replies to all the blogs I've read today and had three cups of tea. There are six children in my care. Look at the lunch they had... count them... SIX!!!

They are so good and lovely I may possibly get a chance to read a book.... or is that too optimistic?

They're friends who live for most of the year in Abu Dhabi and only come back in the summer.

The ages match mine almost exactly, one 11, one 9 and one 6, while the genders match, too.

And every summer we meet up it is as if the last year has never happened. They play together. They eat with gusto. And they part for the next 12 months quite happy with their friendship.

We had to buy new uniform.

2009-08-04T19:40:00.003+01:00

Lots of uniform. I never knew when we had 3 that it would involve so much time in the summer searching for trousers to fit, a skirt that passes Her rigorous level of approval and so many shirts that the thought of how many name tapes I have to sew in already makes my index finger sore, even though I haven't threaded the needle yet.
But we did make it to the Build A Bear Workshop for a little window shopping, and BHS for afternoon tea. Scone, strawberry jam and clotted cream. Yum.

How to spend the time when it rains.

2009-07-30T09:22:00.007+01:00

Too much of this...

Leads to this.

We’ve been using a lot of sellotape recently. When the rain falls, making bases for spy mice from boxes seems like a good idea to 9 and 7 year olds. My 11 year old is still asleep in bed. Teenage years start early, I suppose.
The sun is shining today, but that would only make the second sunny day this holiday. We’ve got good at doing inside things... plenty of free swimming in a posh council pool, and a lot of dodging raindrops in the park.

No, wait, cancel the sun warning. It’s raining again. Great British weather.

Life is about moving on...

2009-07-17T16:23:00.012+01:00

I know this, people told me so, but I didn't realise how hard it would be. I know it's the right thing to happen, but watching my three move on is so hard.

DP has had his last day at Junior school. Seven years in the blink of an eye.

The Princess has moved on to Juniors. I have no infants, not at home, not at school. And she jumped over the rainbow as well, so next September she's a Brownie.

6 weeks of glorious (wet) summer lie ahead and nothing to do.... well, except for the park, the zoo, the woods nearby that we found last month, the borrower's houses we're planning to make, the t shirts to decorate, the sewing, knitting and embroidery.... and a week in Wales.

So, to celebrate, we spent the afternoon playing on our DS..... and I played on the computer. Chill.

Beamish Open Air Museum

2009-07-04T15:03:00.011+01:00

We visited Beamish in June, and what struck me once again was how much we have to learn off the olden days that we have actually forgotten. All those green things; recycling, make do and mend, make your own, grow your own that are circulating back into fashion after such a long period of excessive consumption were as natural as breathing to the people in turn of the century vilages all over the country. Why did we forget that after every boom comes an inevitable bust?

I loved the obviously homemade pan holders...

the newspaper shelf liners.....

the homemade bread (smelled gorgeous!)....

and the evidence everywhere of green values. Waste not, want not.

I could write for ages of the things I saw and felt about Beamish. But most off all I could write of the effect it has had on me since. No shopping, no new clothes (except for a pair of trousers and a silky nightie... both necessary) and more homemade food than ever.

Frugal, frugal, frugal.

Fat Angel Goes Thin

2009-07-04T14:55:00.004+01:00

I'm on a weightloss journey, and since it's not really what I want to blog about as a DomCom, I'm developing a split personality and having a new blog specifically for this. Find it here if you want to see the incredible shrinking Angel.

Remember me....

2009-06-09T17:24:00.003+01:00

When I finally got around to writing another entry on my blog, the computer had the effrontery to ask, "Remember me".....
It's been 6 months since my last blog, 6 months probably since I last commented on anyones blog and definitely 6 months since I spent any concentrated time in the blogosphere. I still owe someone a Christmas swap.... I hope she's still talking to me when finally the package makes it to her. Where have I been? I don't know! But I'm back... and this time it's personal.
My home computer has deserted me, stopped internetting and after months of harrumphing at it I have finally admitted defeat. I went and looked at notepads (not the paperchase kind) and tomorrow Iwill be delivered of a red (That's a RED) Dell thingy that looks like this;
So from tomorrow I'm back and not just in the half hour that I can grab from the kids and the cooking. I can be online 24/7 365, constantly at your beck and call..... but not for the first week. For the first week I will be playing with my new Baby. Dell. Adele? Del Boy? Delbert? Nah, this red temptress had better be Delilah. She can have a hand felted case and lots of exciting adventures. Mobile technology. Great,eh?

My apologies for a long absence and some pictures of a Christmassy home.

2008-12-22T17:21:00.008Z

Wow! November 9th! And I haven't been working, honest I haven't. I've barely been on the puter either... or I'd have written before! I know that the first week of December I Christmassed the house, but what happened before or since I don't know. There was that cold, that lasted two weeks, and I have helped at any and every Christmas thing at school (dressing for the play? Love to help! Trip to Santa? Certainly, and I'll take 200 photos while I'm there!) so I haven't done nothing, in fact, I've used my catch up TV to watch every serious money programme and documentary going, and I figure that I am beginning to feel like I'm in the 30's and so I'm darned well going to live like that!( No, really, I looked up on a website where to get seamed stockings and my DH seems very keen!)

So, for a little light relief, here are some pictures. Enjoy (and hopefully I'll be back again soon)

But if I'm not, can I take this chance of wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas and a calm and peaceful 2009!

A few photos of Madrid and a book to comment about.

2008-11-09T14:32:00.008Z

Last month, DH and I went to Madrid for our annual dirty weekend, if a weekend where both particpants are married to each other and shower everyday can be dirty. It's a break from the children, a chance to make sure that we can still talk to each other without awkward breaks and a chance to grab some culture without having to make it appeal to 10 year olds.

Madrid came up because of the convenient flights, both time wise and price wise, so off we jetted.

Having done Barcelona last year and having realised that a smattering of Spanish (dos cervesas, per favore) and a dash of French helps, we were pretty sure of a good time. Madrid lacks the seaside but has the museums, including the Prado, which I had long wanted to visit. We got there, got our paseo del arte and were off.

Lovely. Lovely. Lovely.

We visited all the cultural sights of the city, the Royal Palace, the museums and the Bernabeau Stadium. That last was my idea; what else do you do in a big city on a Saturday afternoon. Funnily enough, DH could think of no reasons not to go, and I have to say, I really enjoyed it. We got to sit in the dug out, walk down the players' tunnel, see the trophy room and have a cracking case of vertigo from the top of the stands. Loved it.

Food wise, Madrid has great paella, the tapas bar we tried was fun, but the seafood is very in your face. I don't like to see tentacles and suckers, and there was Pulpo a plenty. The highlight for us was when we had a choice of an 8.30 or 10.30 booking and we chose the latter, a time we would consider at home as ridiculous but which is normal eating time in Spain. We went to a restaurant in England last week and were home by the time we would only have gone out in Spain!

I think Barcelona has the edge on Madrid; it has the seaside and the fantastic Gaudi buildings, whereas Madrid was a much more Museum based city, indeed a more business orientated place altogether. The old town wasn't as cute, the new town dirtier, but Madrid does have the advantage/disadvantage of being the country's capital.... and when you happen to be there on National Day there is a distinct chance you'll see something... this is the King Of Spain... look closer, can't you tell?

And a warning for Gaudi fans and Da Vinci Code readers.... The Gaudi Key is a preposterous romp through Barcelona where a young girl has been raised by her Grandfather to be really good at cyphers so that she can solve the clues hidden in the Masters work while crazed satanists try and stop her... It's not great literature but it was fun to read as long as you know your Gaudi. Fortunately, I had a book, otherwise I think you'd be lost. Some of th ebook is pure waffle, the rest is just plain daft. I liked it, but only because I am that sad individual who likes to sit there with a map and figure out if they're going the right way.

An award and my tags.

2008-10-02T19:55:00.005+01:00

Tilly Tatas gave me an award and tagged me for a 7 random facts tag. I can't remember if I've ever done one before/ for a while so, here goes.

1.My left little finger is smaller than my right little finger. I think it means I'm more highly evolved.

2. I met my husband when I was 11 and finally asked him out when I was 22. I've known him for 29 years. That's scary!

3. I wanted to be a nun when I was 11. All Catholic girls do. Something to do with Bernadette and St Theresa. I blame Blue Peter.

4. I have a Blue Peter badge for writing in to the programme. I got it when I was 19 and applied to be a presenter. I'd still like to be one, but I content myself with being a teacher. Not so well paid, but a lot less trampolines.

5. I can win at Trivial Pursuits using mostly the brown squares. I will answer the cheese questions for the other colours, but brown is my favourite and my best.

6. I have never read War and Peace. It's the russian names, all thos epatronimics bore me. But I have read Lord Of The Rings three times, and the names in that are just as weird. perhaps I like the story better.

7. My favourite food is chocolate ginger. My Nana used to eat them at Christmas and being the only one apart from her who liked it meant I always got some off her. My Mum buys it for me now. Bless. We like to remember Nana at Christmas, even though she died 8 years ago.

So, there you are. Seven random facts about me. Who to pick on now???? Well, I can think of who deserves a Super Commenter award better than a tag, so I'll do that.

My super commenters are;

Mary Mary fairly contrary

Jennie at Falling down the Rabbit Hole

Thimbleanna

Papoosue and

Angela at Tracing Rainbows

And, if you want to you can do the tag, too!

My new baby and a boast; it can run already...

2008-10-02T11:34:00.009+01:00

You know my camera died. (RIP) Well, I am shortly embarking on an annual dirty weekend with my husband (dirty= no kids & plenty of fun in museums, royal palaces, cafes and shopping arcades, not glamping in a field) going to Madrid. We like capital cities and we like taking photos in them, so the race was on to find a new baby for me to carry around.

We went to Curry's and Comet.

Now the organised among you will know that, when looking for a new camera it is good to know what you want. The majority of you will know that life is not like that. We just knew it needed a lens, because all cameras do, that a button to press is good and that as long as it uploads to Photobox it will probably be useful.
As soon as we started looking at cameras, I knew the battle lines were drawn. Could I make do with a small point and press? 3x zoom? No macro facility? Did I really need it to have white exposure facility? A setting for fireworks? A 2gb memory card (extra?)
I have had a point and press and, God bless it, it worked admirably. I have also been frustrated by its inadequacies and the times it just couldn't do what I wanted it to. And, yes, I have to say that blog envy reared its ugly head here. Last year Everyone (Oh! how I dread the days my then-teenagers tell me what Everyone is doing!) was getting a new camera, that giggled and whistled Dixie. I knew I needed a serious piece of kit; if I got the best I could then my photos will be the ne plus ultra (I think that means the best, doesn't it?) the absolute epitome (pronounced epi-tomb) of photographic geniosity. Wouldn't they?

So in the middle of Currys I finally drew up my wish list. No Dixie, but a super zoom, weight immaterial, massive memory (200 on holiday was touch and go, I figured. I needed more), a range of effects to dazzle and annoy my children (No, just do that again, I want to do it in superchrome, too) and a kinky black body to show people that here was no pink or red credit-card-sized-camera wielder, here was a Dedicated shooter (I am, unfortunately, good with guns, more of that another time) who knew her SLR from her DDT.

And the inevitable happened. The money man said no. No in a loud voice. (Not shouting, just loud.) How could I suddenly turn around in a shop and say the £99 camera on offer was not good enough when I had had nothing more for three years? Well, Duh? Progression? I said that I hadn't looked and analysed my needs vs wants to come up with my essential criteria and that, now I had seen what was available at what price I knew that for an input of another £50 to £80 pounds I could have a good camera that would do better portraits, that would have a museum setting (no sound, no flash, Who knew such things existed?) and that would make my scrapbooks (when I get them out again) even better than before.

No. No, said the nasty money man. Did I sulk? Did I stomp off in a temper? No, I did not. I am a mature adult and I knew I would get my own way eventually one way or another (the government owe me £800 in tax; have they rushed to get it to me? No. I exist on the bread line at the moment, living on the charity of my DH and Ma and consequently unable to make the cash input to lift the level ........ but I digress.)

We went to Borders. We bought the magazine. We went on T'internet that night and we discussed options. I needed a better camera for you, dear readers, and Reader, I married him so I knew he would agree eventually. Sense was restored. We looked, we saw, we bought.

And so, here is my baby. Hiro my hero, named after this cute guy who makes Wednesdays fun again.

Hiro has no passport yet, but he does have an impressive 1000 frame memory (hey, I can't even remember breakfast. Oh, yeah, that's coz I haven't had it yet.) and the chunky not so sexy body of a serious power athlete.

And he does work. Expect some seriously picture heavy posts here for a while. That is, if the weather lets me go out. Hiro doesn't respond well to extremes of temperature.

Good, eh?

A long article, put on the net, with no intention to offend, just to inform.

2008-09-22T10:31:00.012+01:00

In another one of my alter egos I occasionally write articles for my parish magazine. I go to St Peter's Church Woolton.

It's a nice middle class church in a nice middle class suburb of Liverpool. Its biggest claim to fame is that the church hall is where John Lennon and Paul McCartney met for the first time. There's a plaque and all sorts of tourists, mostly Japanese and American, come by to go Wow! Also, Eleanor Rigby is buried in the church yard. Apparently John Lennon had lots of time to hang around in church yards. Who knew?

Any way, at 2 this morning inspiration struck. It's always 2am, never 2pm. Still small voice, I expect, the one I can't hear during the day for the TV, the kids, the husband asking for his tea....

Anyway, I am proud of this article and so, though I hate to inflict a much longer post than usual on you I wanted to give you the sneek preview. I've sent this off for the November issue of the Mag', so you really are reading it a month ahead. I hope it helps anyone who is in need, and that those of us facing a downsizing in our available cash (that would be all of us, then) will find some comfort and support in the message. Apologies to any non-Christians reading it; but since this is the God of Jacob and Abraham, Habakkuk counts as a prophet for Jews, Christians and probably Muslims, so there' s only Sikhs and Hindus to be offended.

Habakkuk; The Credit Crunch Prophet.

A few weeks ago what most people already knew was finally made official; the world’s economy was in decline and we were, for better or worse, in a recession.
And by the end of September the situation was dire; Lehman Brother’s Bank went down, AIG rescued by the American Government and HBOS amalgamated with Lloyds TSB in a merger that promised as few job losses as they could and everywhere, everywhere, the words Credit Crunch on everybody’s lips.

One wisecracker joked that the credit crunch was like a new kids’ cereal: sweet to eat but no good for you in the long run. I suspect that many people in the country have come to rely on their easy credit as just another available source of income, and that the current recession is a nasty slap in the face to many high spending fashionistas and low earning families who need to bridge the gap between income and expenditure. To paraphrase Mr McCawber; when your outgoings are more than your income the result is misery.
So, in a time of global recession and worldwide need, who do we turn to for help? Well, practically there is always Martyn Lewis’ moneysavingexpert.com, but for true support and real advice, I think it has to be God, doesn’t it? And, I think, for a salutary lesson and support for the time ahead, Habakkuk takes the prize.

Written in the 6th century BC as Babylon rose to prominence as a world power, Habakkuk is a short 3 chapter book that acts almost like a Question Time for God, but without David Dimbleby. Habakkuk had deep questions to ask about serious problems and wasted no time lamenting his situation. His first sentence is a question; “How long, Oh Lord, must I call for help?” Hab 1:1 Anyone who has ever phoned an automated bank phone line to try to arrange a temporary overdraft knows what that question feels like.

Habakkuk sees a violent and greedy world around him; “Must I forever see this sin and misery all around me? Wherever I look I see destruction and violence. I am surrounded by people who love to argue and fight. The law has become paralyzed and useless, and there is no justice given in the courts. The wicked far out number the righteous and justice is perverted with bribes and trickery.” Hab 1:3-4 Familiar, eh?
And God replies, much as he does to us today; “Look at the nations and be amazed! Watch and be astounded at what I will do! For I am doing something in your own day, something you wouldn’t believe even if someone told you about it.” Hab 1:5 God felt the need to punish the Israelites and was going to use the Babylonians as his instrument of correction. Perhaps he can also use sub-prime mortgages or an increasing level of personal debt: however, he doesn’t mean to destroy. Habakkuk asks him, “Is your plan in all of this to wipe us out? Surely not!” Hab 1:12 and he asks God how long this will last, “Will you let them get away with this forever?” Hab 1:17
And God answers: “Slowly, steadily, surely the time is coming when the vision will be fulfilled. If it seems slow, wait patiently, for it will surely take place.” Hab 2:3
And this part of Habakkuk is really so meaningful in the modern world it is almost as though God wrote it for this time—now, even though it was written two and a half thousand years ago. What God has to say about wealth and its acquisition could be repeated to any of the City Bankers now staring defeat in the face (and looking elsewhere for gainful employment; enquiries into teaching as a career change have gone up by over 30% in the past month) and also to us: Any of these statements is true, but to have so many gathered together in such a small book gives each one extra weight.

“Wealth is treacherous and the arrogant are never at rest.” Hab 2:5
“Look at the proud! They trust in themselves and their lives are crooked.” Hab 2:4
“You believe wealth will buy security, putting your families beyond the reach of danger.” Hab 2:9
“Has not the Lord Almighty promised that the wealth of nations will turn to ashes? They work so hard, but all in vain.” Hab 2:13
“What have you gained by worshipping all your man-made idols?” Hab 2:18
“Can an idol speak for God? They may be overlaid with gold and silver, but they are lifeless inside.” Hab 2:19

In a modern (post-modern) materialistic world we are encouraged to put idols above God. When somebody can pay £10 million literally for the Golden Calf the same day the world economy has its biggest collapse since 1929, well, isn’t that an example of mis-placed priorities? God says it here; we thought wealth would make our families secure. But it doesn’t and it hasn’t.
I can only just remember the recession of the early 80’s, with GissaJob Yosser Hughes and high unemployment. I remember less of the 70’s with power blackouts and shortages (I do remember my Mum making bread: whether we ate it or used it as a door stop, I don’t know. I do know she had at least 12 recipes to stretch ½ lb of mince to feed 7 people) There are many in this church who can remember these times; some who even remember Austerity Britain and the hardship of the post-war world (you don’t need to admit this, unless you want to). For so long now we have been a nation of haves and have-mores. It was fun while it lasted, but the price must be paid.

Much will be said in the coming months of how to ride out the recession. Advice will flood the media of how to save as much money as possible, of what the safest return will be. There will be a lot of figurative and literal belt-tightening going on. And for Christians? Turn to Habakkuk chapter 3.
“I have heard about you, Lord, and I am filled with awe by the amazing things you have done. In this time of our deep need, begin again to help us, as you did in years gone by. Show us your power to save us. And in your anger, remember your mercy.” Hab 3:2

I watched a Christmas special of the Vicar of Dibley last week, the 2004 episode when everyone was persuaded to wear white armbands and stamp out global poverty. It made me cry (but so does Danny Boy) but it also made me worry; would such a campaign make any impact this year with all the expenditure cutting going around? Will charity be one of the lifestyle luxuries edited in our audits? I hope not. However bad this economy gets, I hope we will always be able to help those less fortunate than ourselves. And I hope we can take our cue from Habakkuk’s final hymn of praise. In chapter 3 verse 17 he talks of the olive crops failing, the fig tree lying barren and the cattle barns standing empty. I own neither olive trees nor heads of cattle to call my own so, with apologies to Habakkuk and inspired by an online group I found who have dedicated themselves to making Hab 3:17 their way of life, I prefer to alter it to suit me.

Even though the cupboards are empty and the freezer is bare, even though my savings account yields no interest and the mortgage rate rises daily, even though my work dries up and the car in the garage lies still from lack of petrol, yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! The sovereign Lord is my strength. He will make me as safe as a tax-free ISA and bring me safe over the credit-crunch mountains!
Amen!

*All opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and may not necessarily reflect those of the Church as a whole.

If you want to read more on handling debt and saving money, the following are useful websites and sources of information.

Martyn Lewis’s website moneysavingexpert.com offers ideas and forums to give you practical help in saving money. He also offers a weekly e-mail and can be seen from time to time on TV, most recently in the Channel 5 series, It pays to Watch this.
http://www.frugal.org.uk/ is a site of frugal living tips, including frugal food and a frugal Christmas. It’s small but a good place to check out.
The Citizen’s advice bureau is a good place to start if you need help with a large debt. Their website is http://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/ or you can get the number of the local branch in the telephone book.

If you do have problems, don’t suffer in silence. Ask for help and please remember that there are people around to help you. Together we will make it through. See you on the other side of the mountain!

Falling with style; some reminiscences

2008-09-20T14:31:00.004+01:00

I hope I spelled reminiscenses right. can't be bothered to check; someone out there will tell me if it's wrong.

Anyhoo, the kids are having a nostalgia day. My 10, 8 and 6 year old are all sat (bouncing) watching Toy Story (cert U) which they haven't watched in.... 2 years? 3 years? It is nice to know that they are still soft enough to get pleasure from that... especially as I just taped Cars for them to watch wondering whether Pixar still had the power to hold them. Yes, it does.

I had nothing better to do than to look outside my window.

2008-09-17T16:48:00.007+01:00

It's a nice day. That is to say, it's not raining.

I wonder if English people always viewed a day when it wasn't raining as nice. There must be a reason why as a country we so eagerly embraced the umbrella. I don't suppose it was for its properties as a parasol. My favourite book ever starts, "There was no possibility of taking a walk that day..." just because it was raining. And there must be a very good reason why we like to talk about the weather.How many stilted polite conversations have opened with, "Lovely day, isn't it?" or "Raining again!" It's as if the psyche and the weather are connected.

Yesterday was all gloom and despondency, the US banks were folding (and my comiserations go to anyone caught up in that fiasco) and we waited with baited (bated? I should look it up; you know I won't, so delete as applicable) breath to see what would happen to HBOS. It took me until 10am this morning to realise that HBOS WAS Halifax Bank Of Scotland and not HawaiiBurmaOhioStuttgart or any other combination of letters. I went through my local Halifax today; there were people closing their accounts; elderly people mostly, and asking for their hundreds of savings "in ten pounds will do", as one doddering old man said. And yesterday's weather was gloomy, overcast, grey skied dismality.

Today we had sunshine, and a merger on the cards. Hope it works out. Hope the world regains its confidence and that the period of instability we are in is followed by a sensible time of pecuniary caution, rather than a boom and bust cycle that neither encourages stability or engenders hope in the future.

And I hope that we learn our lessons; that money doesn't make us happy; although I know a distinct lack of it doesn't mean instant happiness, there is a point beyond which we have enough and more is too much. As I sat yesterday writing out my Christmas shopping lists and compiling my budget I was very conscious that my three didn't need too much more, that they knew this and that there was a pleasing lack of big-ticket items on their lists. They almost naturally seem to have gone for things that encourage play; lego, card games (OK, from the latest TV hit, but still a game to play together) and Sylvanian families; my daughter is desperate for everything HSM and I am desperate to hold her off, if only for another year. Go for the cute furry rabbits, Princess, and leave the Troys alone.

Bragging a little and showing off my impressive knowledge of technology.

2008-09-12T16:51:00.005+01:00

I've got the new Marie Claire idees. I have a friend whose husband works in France and gets it for me. Na na na na na.

I scanned the front in to my little scanner and here it is.

I also wanted to scan an inside page as well, but when the scanner made a definite clunk and said there were 15 minutes to go until the scan was done, I used my great powers of detection and figured out it's fubarred. (I think that's a rude acronym, but it works and I would never use the whole sentence in front of anyone)

So I got on the amazon.fr website and found this.

And this.

I've officially started my Christmas shopping. Tee hee.

My (ever so dead) camera

2008-09-09T19:06:00.005+01:00

It has finally given up the ghost.... just before we went away, my little point and press finally breathed its last. Three years of close confinement in a Cath Kidston pouch and it had finally had enough.
It has been sadly missed the last few weeks.
Here are my children paddling at Bourton on the Water...
Here we are watching the Big Spider in Liverpool....
And here is Number Two hanging off the edge of his new top bunk, while long-suffering DP squeezes into a small bottom bunk.
I need a camera. I really need a camera

Oh, and, by the way, I'm back.....

I am indulging in a little light fantasy....

2008-07-04T13:43:00.003+01:00

Nothing to do today.
No, let me rephrase that, nothing to do today that I feel like doing.
I could clean my car.
I could tidy out my drawers.
I could take a shower in my now-working-goodness-me-aren't you pleased I don't smell anymore-shower.
Or I can dream.

Why I may not be too fragrant for the next week....

2008-06-20T17:40:00.006+01:00

My shower is broken. No, let me rephrase that my shower is very broken. It leaks and it has made a damp patch on my ceiling. Imagine the picture, I like taking pretty pictures of my house but even I draw the line at the lunar landscape currently in formation on my hall roof.

So, I got my DH to ask at work for a plumber. He came home yesterday with a name and a number... that's all, one little forename and a mobile number. And this man is going to see my ensuite? Worse than that, he has to pass through my bedroom to get there?

My instructions (for me from DH, don't go thinking I have any authority in this house; it's why I want a cat.... except the cat would be more in charge than I am...) were to ring Jimmy the Plumber and arrange a meeting. It was only as he answered and I said "Hello, is that Jimmy the Plumber....." that I got a dreadful feeling. I desperately wanted to say it in a Scorsese way, you know, a New Yoik gangster way, a "I'm ready for you to mess wid my pipes but you better not want to play with my stopcock" way In a Sopranos way rather than just a piping soprano voice.

No, he's not a gangster, just a nice guy who happened to see the funny side of being Jimmy the Plumber (I had to tell him; I had to spill the beans) and axed for his protection money when he knocked on the door (well, rang the Cuckoo doorbell, but that just lowers the tone) . Jimmy has looked at my loose sealant. Jimmy says we need to get it re sealed, but can we leave it a week to dry out? No showers for a week? We do have a bath..... but the last time I had one I think I was pregnant and I'm not sure it was with the Princess. I may just have to learn a whole new language of bathing for the week;

night time baths, not showers,

foam bubbles not cream (or creme, I only buy the best) gel, and perhaps, just perhaps,

a glass of wine and candles...... Am I available next Friday, Jimmy?........ oops, perhaps not.......

I can prove that there is more than one way to skin a cat....

2008-06-18T15:16:00.005+01:00

My technological wizardry is about as good as my ability to resist a cream cake (you know, the Waterfields caramel doughnut with the sticky caramel icing, the vanilla scented cream that oozes out with one bite and the solid white chocolate medallion on. The sort of cake you have to reach for in times of crisis like forgetting to put the cat out, putting a cup down on a table without a coaster and , well, generally, anytime) so when my DH rang from work with the simple instruction; 'e-mail those pictures to me', I was ready.

Two weeks later I finally sat down to send them. Technology cannot be rushed. If the computer can be bolshy so can I.

First attempt; g mail. I attached all the files (16 pictures). No good. Too much information and my computer said no. ( I had a boy in a class last year who communicated by Little Britain. Computer said No was his favourite, Want that one came a close second. Having never seen the programme I was baffled but pigheaded enough to want my own way. I never grew up past 7 years old.)

Second attempt, the default e-mail on the puter. No good. It dates from the days of dial up connection, doesn't pretend to know me and wouldn't cross the street to send an e-mail for me if it wanted to, which it doesn't, it being an inanimate thing and not, as I am inclined to believe, a malicious sentient being with a voice like the Kit car. 2001 has a lot to answer for.

So I sat and thought. A decent cup of tea, all those free radicals, it works for Doctor Who, why not me?

And I stumbled across the answer. I got a new e-mail address. This is my third in as many weeks. I now have two addresses in two separate parts of the cyberspace. What will I do if my two selves ever meet? Will the vortex collapse or will I just have to introduce myself; Angel jem, meet Angel Jem.

And will it mean I miss this week's first of three parts.... The Doctor dead? Nuclear holocaust? Rose's new hairdo? How can I survive?

I am so cut out for a life in the army as a Gunner......

2008-06-16T18:45:00.008+01:00

I have never wanted to be in the army, really, but I do think I make a good Gunner. You know what I mean, I am gunner do this and I was gunner do that and we're gunner meet up for coffee... someday. My gunner list is getting bigger by the day.

Apart from getting my blog boogie back I want to do so much around the house, to get crafty with wool, material and paint and I am gunner find the time..... someday.

But I don't do everything I hope to. Time's winged chariot and all that. (good title for a book; I thought of it first, hands off) And that's fine because that's where my life is.

So I'll catch up with some old news. We went to York during half term week and really enjoyed it. We stayed at a lovely cottage on a farm, where there were hens and cats and dogs wandering freerange and, best of all for my three, 4 free range children who were ready and willing to play. We didn't get as much done as we had planned, but that was fine. They played and it was just like something out of Enid Blyton, with masses of children disappearing off into the wilderness to emerge when the hunger struck. Lovely, really.

We visited York three times, for the NRM where they were celebrating (mourning?) 40 years since the age of steam, for Jorvik and its sister atraction, Dig and for the Yorkshire Museums, the one at the Castle and the one in Museum gardens.

We all had a fantastic time, and we were especially impressed with the offers at the museums. If you are a UK taxpayer and you sign the gift aid declaration, you get unlimited free entry to the museums for the next year. Whoopee! There's a day out in the summer planned!

And the picture of the week? This is a toilet seat at the archaeological hands on centre, Dig. Yes, those are bits of pottery and bone buried in the resin. Mmmm, interesting.

What's bred in the bone will.....

2008-06-16T14:55:00.002+01:00

Your Inner European is Irish!

Sprited and boisterous!

You drink everyone under the table.

Who's Your Inner European?

A brag about the weather and my washing line...

2008-06-15T19:58:00.001+01:00

Look at the blue sky!

Just look at it!

What you can't see it?

What? The quilts are in the way?

Oh, Those quilts! They're just two quilts I picked up in Barnardo's for £6 each....

Mind you, there is a sting in the tail. They must have been owned by a dog because there is felted hair all over them so I not only had to wash and dry the blasted things but to stroke them all over with my hand covered in sellotape.

Thrift comes at a price.

And as I stroked all the dog hair off, all I could think of was this....

What a half hour in the garden is for...

2008-06-11T19:20:00.009+01:00

Yes! Don't you love it when you get a result! I had a spare half hour today (OK, so I was supposed to tidy my bedroom, but it wasn't raining and you take your pleasures when you can in England) and I spent it very well indeed in the garden, transforming a small patch of my earth from this....

to this.... (apologies for the difference in tone; I know the before is actually a better colour, but the after is neater)

and here is the pathetic flower currently sole occupant of this bed.

I was so guilty that, with my spare half hour when the Princess was at a party I had to go to the garden centre and get some bedding plants. Watch this space...

No not THIS space!

Mind you, gardening is a long term commitment. The other corner of my garden looks like this...

Yes, that is ground elder in there. Loads of it. I am as we speak blasting it with glycophosphate and pulling out every bit of root I can find... well, not literally as we speak. I was doing it 10 minutes ago until the rain began and I dived for cover in the 'puter room.I'll continue with my work tomorrow.

But in the meantime I am feeling successful.

When I was newly qualified as a teacher I treated myself to this valuable piece of advice and I have lived by it ever since.

I don't seek the fancy car (any old Porche Carrera will do) or a mansion of a house but I do seek for healthy children, a patch of tilled earth and to be a force for good, especially on a small scale, because big scale goodness doesn't fit in around the school run and bathtime. I get my pleasures where and when I can, whether it is the half hour pottering, the playing frisbee and football or the coffee drunk whilst reading a new book (I have a new handbag; it's lovely and red but too small for a book. It won't last long, I promise) and I am entitled to feel successful when I have achieved my ambitions; an empty laundry basket, a weed free patch, the sound of three giggling monkeys telling each other rude words. I feel successful because I have friends who I know I can call on at a moments notice, that I have good relationships with all my relations (There's a rarity, according to the papers) and that I have the love of a good man whom I love deeply. Nothing too expensive or hard to come by, but good enough for me.

And to help me feel good about my success, I will watch this tonight. 6 figure salary? Nein danke!

Knitting is better than nothing...

2008-06-09T19:22:00.014+01:00

Last Saturday I had a half hour to spare so I visited the local Oxfam bookshop. Devotees of second hand bookshops will know that shopping in them is less about finding what you want than finding what you need. You can walk into a SHB wanting the newest novel, or a book on gardening, or just to browse and can exit with what must have been someone's collection of knitting books from the 30's or 40's with a book on embroidery and an illustrated Hans Christian Andersen without breaking into a ten pound note.

I love old craft books. It strikes me that, like that wonderful French magazine, Marie Claire Idees, they presuppose a level of ability and pre-knowledge that is missing from most English craft magazines. Where we get numbered and full colour illustrations to explain often simple steps (as if every reader were a beginner) old books know that they can mention a particular stitch or step and the reader will not even need to think about it.. they have the language of craft and they aren't afraid to use it. Whether it's because every child (oh, who am I trying to kid here, every girl) had the techniques intravenously fed to her through her schooling or because the basics were covered by a grandmother or mother who modelled the process I don't know. I do know that the books are somewhat lacking in kerb appeal compared to the all-singing, all-dancing books available today but that, for all that, they have a charm of their own.

And I love the things that they contain. Who, for instance, would really want to knit a swimming suit? But both my treasures of the weekend contain a whole range of garments for swimming, including a rather tasteful pair of father and son trunks. I couldn't resist the bikini, complete with knitted over skirt. Good for St Tropez, non?

And the knitted underwear caught my eye, too. Wool vests, I can understand, but the pants seem a little.... optimistic, I think. Or just plain scratchy.

And when I read the description for the teenagers' camiknickers, I just had to snort with laughter. " When a schoolgirl begins to grow older she longs for lovely underwear in contrast to her more austere schoolgirl clothes. Here is a charming camiknicker with picot edged shoulder straps....." Fashionable, stylish, warm... Janet Reger it ain't. It probably can't even be found in the new style M&S, home to thermal knickers for as long as I care to remember. Although, knitted in cashmere...... and I love the quilt. Who says that home style changes? Aren't quilts always in?

But, then, as I read the books from cover to cover and back again, I began to get a strange sense... was it Deja Vu? I grabbed for my pile of catalogues....

No, it was Boden! Change the hair style, tweak the clothes ever so slightly... and watch the change! (no, it is not really going to change, you have to keep scrolling down. I wish I knew how to do magically merging pictures. I'm betting somewhere out there on the web is a company that can do it, but if you think I had the time or inclination to find it... well, you don't know me very well do you?)

Yes, I thought, you could use these patterns and not look like an extra in We'll Meet Again (I used to love that programme), in fact, you could look really good, quirky, cute..... at least, if you have a 34 chest you can. The closest to my size are all categorised as "for the mature woman" and feature models who, frighteningly, look like the Queen Mother, God bless her, in her later years and not as she must have done at the time.

I'm only 40, I'm not ready to be mature, I still want to live my life and do all those things I'm planning to..... and if I find some decent crochet cotton, a pair of linen pillowcases and the space to make some picot edging for them so much the better.

But the highlight of the books this weekend is a mystery.... is this Vivien Leigh? Or just a very good look alike?

Greyfriars Bobby; She is in love.

2008-05-22T11:58:00.006+01:00

Last August we went to Edinburgh and saw Greyfriars Bobby, the statue. The Princess was so impressed she spent her hard earned holiday money on the cuddly toy who now lives on her bed. I know the story is sad, but I find it so lovely that a story from 150 years ago can still touch a 5 year old today. It also makes me feel sad, because I'm not sure the same thing would ever happen again.

If Auld Jock died now, he would most likely be cremated and his ashes stored somewhere on the off chance that any relatives came to claim him. Bobby would be sent to the dog rescue where, if he did manage to escape from the cage he definitely wouldn't get out the security doors to reach the city mortuary. If he did get there, then his entry would be blocked again by a numerical lock (dogs have trouble operating those; the key pad is usually too high up to reach) and a security guard who works there on the days when he's not a night club bouncer.

Even if Auld Jock had had a burial plot booked with his name on, Bobby would have to be very brave to hang around in a cemetary. There are some pretty frightening things happening in graveyards now and I'm not talking ghosts here. Bobby would have to risk the alsatian guard dogs, the fast trucks carrying more grass and the slow moving hearses (they can be very deceptive) and that's not even accounting for the gangs of dispossessed youths who find a cemetary fun.... or if Auld Jock was Jewish(!) the gangs of stupid and intolerant people who think it's fun to vandalise a place just for being different.

And, finally, the main reason why Bobby's story wouldn't happen today; who would care? Nobody knows their neighbour, let alone the dog (although I realise as I write this that there is a chance you might know the dog's name, but not the owner. It's like me and children; I know their name but who is their mother? No idea; don't care. Very often the child has more sense anyway. Apologies to any dog people who know this to be so; just bear with me) and, moreover, no one would be bothered to feed him. There are no independant pie shops left and the chains could never give out pies 'just because' without the poor pie person losing their position and, love dogs or no, they aren't worth unemployment.

No, I think Greyfriar's Bobby holds a special place in our hearts because we know it just ain't so; that the reason Greyfriar's Bobby has endured so long is that it must have been an exceptional case even then and that, sadly, human nature is not usually as patient with loyalty and devotion. Perhaps we should make sure that we keep his story strong just because it gives us hope; it happened once, it could happen again. Strange as it seems if there is to be a world wide recession, maybe it may just drive us back into cooperation and interdependance. When nobody has anything, we will need to share. At the moment nobody is dependent except if they're on State benefits (nuff said) and everybody has a degree of self interest that we could do without. When we need our neighbour, they will be there just as we should make sure we are there for them. And, if you ever see a little doggie in a graveyard, just feed him, please, before you call the pound.

I have a crafty moment going on round here....

2008-05-19T21:04:00.003+01:00

But the trouble is that I keep changing from project to project, ignore any house work completely and can always think of a reason why I need (that's need ) to go to Borders.

Apart from sewing blue Pinkies for the task master, there's a ripple blanket for DP, a waistcoat to knit for me, some mats that I bought 14 years ago to embroider, several cross stitch sets I have found and want to finish and a tapestry cushion that cost an indecent amount that I must, from shame, finish sometime. I will photo and post like a good girl sometime but, for now, I am in love with Photobox and busy cutting and sticking a scrapbook of our Scottish holiday last year. I'll leave you with my new header photo; the crystal bowl is at least 30 years old, the mat I embroidered myself. Enjoy.

Japaneasy!

2008-05-17T12:16:00.008+01:00

I took my daughter to speech therapy on Monday.... she can't get the difference in saying G and D so we have a lot of dods but only one Dod. Do you get it? OK, so speech therapy is supposed to be only half an hour at 1.30.... but going and returning take a good 15 minutes (drive slowly) and play is at half two, and after play is only story time..... do you see where I'm going with this? All in all it makes more sense not to take her back into school, especially since my Dad can collect the Boys on a Monday so we (she and I) indulge and I mean indulge in feminine time. Translation; we go to Borders (and Starbucks within) where I get fleeced right royally. This week's highway robbery was a Japanese craft book, so cute that I have barely been allowed to touch it and, indeed, at the moment can't find it to copy and show you. Don't tell her, but I did get this matching volume;

so she will be getting the hairbands, bags and bits 'n' pieces that are dear to a young girl's heart (and make excellent Christmas presents for teenage girls) but this one I keep under lock and key. Ha!

The little mascots are very quick... at only two or three inches tall they should be. I made this cutesy today in 35 minutes, including living pouch and I do have dreams of making books, teddies and suitcases for the Princess' little Pinkie, who I have not scanned, since she is at present sleeping in the dolls house.

My daughter is an entrepreneur, and has dreams of building a vast empire based on selling little craft bits. I regularly make her little hairbands, part of my nostalgic living excercise when I make her suffer the same indignities in the name of craftiness that I did (just joking; they're not indignities; they're a stand against globalisation and a quest for individuality in an increasingly homogeneous world.) Now, with these little dolls she has seen a way to expand her empire. Unfortunately, I seem to be her slave labour and the provider of raw materials. I think I'm being exploited here. If any one wants to contribute to my release, please send me a message of support. But that won't work, either because my e-mail is till down and I haven't actually set up another one. Blow. Instead, I'll leave you with some pretty pictures; my uploading programme worked for once, I had an hour on the computer and some gratuitous prettiness never goes amiss.

Flowers on my mantlepiece; thanks to my lovely Husband for these (not fresh every week, but when I run out, he gets me more)

Rhododendrons at Calderstones Park. I love the fact that there are so many open spaces in Liverpool. Calderstones is one of the biggest and best and a regular day out in the summer.

The baby goslings at the park; it is still spring time and a little cuteness goes a long way. Won't these taste lovely at Christmas?

And a bluebell wood. There is a portion of the park set aside for these, and fenced off to stop people from picking or walking over or... well, whatever people do to bluebells nowadays. It's sad to see the barrier, but a sign of modern life. Don't ask me if they're indigenous or spanish; they're blue (and white) and shaped like bells. Nuff said?

I plays Hookey....

2008-04-26T10:02:00.005+01:00

Today should be Ballet and swimming.

Actually we will go swimming at midday, then go to visit my Ma, but we're playing hookey from ballet.

Is that bad?

It gave me a chance to read all the blogs I haven't for a while, to leave a lot of comments, to see what is out there in the creative zeitgeist and to pump the well of inspiration.

We'll go see Ma, but we need to go to the Market. I want some cute buttons, some cotton yarn, some pretty material. I feel a sewing & knitting fit coming on. The princess needs her new summer dresses.... and a white cotton cardy. And then the boys will need some shorts, and I need some new baggy trousers and I need a new cushion and I want a summer house with gingham curtains (red) and an outside socket for a kettle and a sofa.......

Inspiration, he?

And now I'm off to take some pictures, to download a whole load of the computer onto my external hard drive and to fight (tooth and claw) with my children for the right to keep the computer until swimming.

Get off there, kids, it's mine.

And, by the way, don't you just love these?

Sad days and jolly days.

2008-04-22T21:32:00.004+01:00

My husband's Uncle Arthur died last Wednesday and the funeral is tomorrow.
Yes, we are sad in that we will miss him, he was a regular Christmas guest the past 4 years and we did treat him as a surrogate grandpop, eally, but I refuse to go in for heavy mourning.
You see, he was 83 which is a good innings, really, and he wasn't massively ill ever so to be carried off by a massive stroke with little/no pain sounds reasonable to me. He was such an independant man that to be disabled would have been anathema. My goodness! he didn't want to ask for help if he could help it ever. Stubborn and self-willed, this was a man who had been through WW2 and the events in Palestine until 1947. He had been a scout messenger during the blitz, he knew what war was like...... and he could keep the stories going for hours
And hours
And hours.
I wish I'd made him write them down. Now who can tell me about the sand in the tent shifting because of the scorpions? Who can remind me that 60 years ago the woods at the foot of our road stretched over another 2 or 3 miles because there were no houses then between it and Woolton? Who can look at my little Princess and tell her that her eyes are just like her Grandma's when everyone who knew her grandma at that age is gone?
And everytime one of the older generation leaves us, shuffles off this mortal coil and enters the blessed peace of paradise, it means I shuffle that bit further up the queue of mortality.... soon, we'll be the older generation and the torch of living will have been passed on to another layer while we (Deo Volentus) sit and look back with hindsight and wisdom as befits our advanced status to hanker after a time of innocence long, long past. Do you remember when petrol only cost £1.50 a litre? You could buy a house for £300, 000 in those days, and there were plenty of Polish plumbers who did the work. I remember when the Brown depression struck we thought we'd never have it good again... and the days when you could go out in daylight alone and not be knifed. They were days of wine and roses......
Perhaps by then they won't have zimmer frames but automatic wheelchairs like the best robotic dreams, think and it will move. We might all be stored in a deep freeze and on our way to Alpha maximus because the Earth is in toxic shock after global warming......
Or perhaps not. Perhaps people will have realised that peace is best achieved by friendship and understanding, that community builds community and that we are all citizens of a beautiful planet. That global warming, myth or fantasy as it may be, is only part of the reason to take care of the Earth, and that we are definitely Human Beings not Human Doings. That life can be hard and subsistence living, but that humans can redeem it by their attitude, by their companionship and their eternal optimism. And that nothing matters more than family.
I have seen four dead bodies in my time, all of them old people. Death at their age is a release and a blessing. When the body and brain fails and all joy has gone, it's not bad. I don't fear dead bodies. They are amongst the most peaceful things I have seen on Earth. And tomorrow when we watch Uncle Arthur's coffin pass beyond the veil, I shall weep, a little, because of the music, but mostly I shall feel content that a good and grateful man has passed onto paradise. Bless him.

Because everything goes at once...

2008-04-07T21:14:00.005+01:00

Gratuitous shot of reasonably tidy front door area. (Note baskets of living stuff and lack of letters piled up on mat)

My e-mail isn't working.

So, because it's not working I don't check it.

So, if anyone I know has e-mailed me....... I haven't ignored you on purpose, I just haven't been able to get through to the stash waiting for me on Virgin medias e-mail shelves (Don't try and fool me that it doesn't all get stored on pieces of paper somewhere. I know it does.)

Apologies then for any unintentional rudeness & offence that I may have caused.

The other downside of this is that I am loathe to do any online shopping because I don't know what to do about an e-mail address.

Which is a pity as I actually had time on my hands today to browse and added some more pretty stops to my favourites list.

Sophie Perks Ward, a name I recognise from magazines

The Hen House. Look at those cute baskets! I love french style shopping baskets and will be getting one.... as soon as I get to France!

Lily Blue; I was having a Greengate moment. I may possibly squander £10 on a couple of teatowels & make some cushions. Possibly.

The Mulberry bush. I will be dreaming of a Poppy Trefry tea cosy for weeks. Shame.

And in my personal life.....

Well, work is going well. I'm on 5 mornings and 2 afternoons a week, which is quite enough thank you very much. I'm desperate for a part time job come September, but there isn't a lot going at the moment.

My children are all well and better after the Easter from Hell. We managed 2 days out all holiday & everyone was sick one after another. Whoo! I was glad to get back to school for the rest. They also won't leave me be on the 'puter. I need a lap top, but I might have to wait to get one until I am working/ I win the lottery/ I figure out how to do the bank heist without getting caught.

I'm off now to read around and see what is big in the blog world. (Or I might do some knitting. I grabbed my needles and some wool & I have a plan to knit a waistcoat by Friday. Yeah, right.)

I think it's Saturday, isn't it?

2008-03-15T18:00:00.002Z

When I changed my name (well, blog name, really) to the Domestic competent that was what I intended to be; competent, no more no less.
Well a little less if necessary.
OK a lot less than competent. Like I need to do the washing before I am backed out of my own kitchen by the pile.
I need to get something to eat ready to heat for 6 o'clock.
I need ......

But I have a Sickie Mickie who is lying on the settee and feeling very sorry, a little princess fresh from a party high on sugar and crafts and another one who needs a hand to cut straight because "I'm making you a set of Dino cards Mummy, so you can start collecting...."

The washing will wait.

My, is that the time?

2008-03-10T17:19:00.006Z

Work is a four letter word. No, not really. well, yes, really, obviously it is, but not in the wash-your-mouth-out with soap way. Actually, I met someone today who really did that to her child when she swore (well, it was f*****g, which is pretty bad for a three year old) and now has soap words rather than swear words. Do I laugh, look incredulous or simply report her for cruelty?
But work.... that insidious, time hungry, stop me puting and puttering, send me into spins of efficiency work..... that work has kept me from reading let alone writing for a month. Yes, the money is useful and, yes, I am facing two weeks off without that horrible oh-God-what-can-we-do-for-nothing feeling which is nice, but......
I worked all bar 2 afternoons last week and I enjoyed it. I also did all my washing, cleaned my house and made some more of a ripple blanket that, without work, would be crawling along. Efficiency and priorities, you see. But I kind of feel that I am not talking to my friends. Like all I do is drop by occasionally to check up. I know this time will pass and that, come October my cry will be of no money and loads of time, but for now I am (not loaded) but money comfortable and time stretched. So, an apology and a plea.... that I wil be along when I can, but that until July my time here is limited, because when I am not working I want to spend time with my three. Time is fleeting and madness takes its toll. So, and here I must crave your pardon, fair ladies, in a face off between another game of Cluedo (no, don't cheat, Princess) or time spent strolling along the labyrinthine paths of your blogs....... pass me the lead pipe, someone. I'm off to murder Mrs Peacock in the Library.

And two book recommendations. Perhaps these have also contributed to my absence;
The Thirteenth Tale which is absolutely brilliant and kept me in thrall (Who/what/why?) as I tried to make the "best cookies in the world, Mumsy!" (my son knows how to keep me in the kitchen) and The Shakespeare Secret which combined my love of quasi-historical hysterical romps with my favourite playwright in a(nother) thinking mans Da Vinci Code. It was very good, and the writer obviously knows her stuff. Both first novels, both years in gestation. Either the writers will be bitten by the financial rewards and churn out possibly passable second novels, or these are their magnum opii and they'll sink without a trace. I hope they have another few novels each, actually. Perhaps a thinking man's Da Vinci code based on the new discovery that Patti Boyd actually wrote all of George Harrison and Eric Claptons best tracks and that she is currently seeking another reasonable musician to marry so that she can put out some more music. Or perhaps not.
Have a good March, ladies. See you all again!

10 years and counting....

2008-02-11T19:09:00.001Z

10 years ago on the 9th of February I became a Mummy. And I have loved every moment since.

Except the time when he was 3 months old when he puked on my bedsheets and pooed so badly that he leaked out all over his car seat on the same day.

Oh, and the day when he went to school and I knew we were going to be parted forever.

And last week when he was not very nice about my cooking.

Apart from that it's been lovely.

And yes, we had a lovely birthday. We went to the cinema to see National Treasure; the Book of Secrets and had tea at Ma's house. The cake (home made chocolate) was decorated as an Omnitrix (don't ask) and the presents were Lego and Gormiti (if you know Omnitrix you will either know or be about to know these.) And we all sang happy birthday. Cool!