Showing posts from August, 2009

watching the clouds race by.....

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!!!

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....

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 cookin…

A New Organiser....

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 mid…

Chester, Chester, I love Chester.

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 ti…

A late Spring Cleaning was called for....

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 c…

Summer holidays were made for....

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...

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 go…

Yes, there are six children in the house.

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.

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.