Early memories

My girl, my Princess CurlyWurly as was, is doing her first year of GCSEs this year. That means that she is half way through her teenagerdom and only has four term of formal schooling left. I know. Let's all just take a minute.

One of her electives is Psychology and they have been discussing memory. Apparently she is able to pinpoint her earliest memory to an exact date and time. She remembers the streetlights being very close to her head and hands as her Dada carried her around the corner to a friend's house at early-in-the-morning'o'clock while I stayed home birthing her little brother.

Mine in the other hand is sitting on the bench front seat of my parents' Kingswood station wagon playing with my best beloved teddy bear, Snowy. We were at Naringal School to celebrate its centenary, I guess I was 3 or 4.

I hope that her earliest memory engenders the same feeling of comfort and love that I get from mine.

A favourite movie. Just one?

Not sure it is possible to pick one favourite movie because I spent my teenage years in a darkened living room along with a half a dozen of my siblings or closest friends-I haven't-spoken-with-since-school-finished watching all the latest releases on video. Video! Latest releases that were only 12 months+ out from their cinema release.

We sat through hours of 1980s dross to catch the occasional pearl but we were beyond enamoured that we could sit on our own living room with the power to stop the movie. Or make it go backwards. Or zip it forwards. All at will and all through a little handheld gizmo that transmitted our every command to the video recorder through a thin and always cunningly camouflaged wire which snaked across the floor, successfully navigating the chip (crisp) packets, cordial (squash) glasses and plastic movie boxes littering its way.

If I had to pick a 'Desert Island ' list of movies my first pass would include (in no particular order) -
The Blues Brothers
Toy Story
Roman Holiday
Dirty Dancing
Some Like It Hot
The Usual Suspects
The Princess Bride
Eddie Murphy Raw
Richard Pryor Live

Yes it is true, I am a 'fluffy bunny' film kind of girl. I don't like gory horror films very much and I like psychological horror even less. I like films that make the world seem a little bit less grim for the time I am watching, whether that is because they are light and fluffy in and of themselves or because the story is so gripping all else gets forgotted (mentioning no names : The Ususal Suspects).

Factor in to this that it is an hour's drive to my nearest cinema and my inherent apathy means that I rarely see a film in its natural habitat. If it doesn't come to my house in some form I am unlikely to see it. This does not however preclude me from participating in conversations about new releases bc the ads trailing the new films include just about anything you need to know. That and my well-developed bullshitting ability have seen me through so far.

The lack of direction by their parents combined with this distance from civilsation means that neither the girlchild nor the boychild are particularly up to date on their film watching either ... although ... over the Easter holidays the boychild and I bought 'Thor: The Dark World' just because we could and quite frankly at £10 and the cost of a packet of Pringles I reckon I still came out miles ahead than if we had gone to the cinema. Then 'Frozen' came to my local Arts Centre cinema so the boy and I went to watch so we could find out what came after the line "Let it go, let it go..." Again money well spent bc of the travel costs, etc but also bc it was lovely to meet my godbaby there with his big sisters. They sat in front of us and I kept flicking bits of stuff at the back of Will's head to annoy him. Three days later the dvd found its way back to my house in my grocery shopping and all three of us spent one of the few sunny afternoons of the holidays sitting in the darkened room belting out the lyrics to 'Do you wanna build a snowman' and 'Let it go' with great enthusiasm. As I sat there I heard echoes of my teenage self living through one of those lost video-weekends.

Beachy Birthday Goodness

I know that I have already put these up on other social media and you are probably all sick of them but man alive! My boy rocked that whole learning to surf thing.

 

 

His special birthday event was to have a surfing lesson with a couple of mates followed by a sleepover. He picked the perfect dynamic, both competitive but not in an aggressive way so all three fired off each other without actually ramping it up to Level Stupid. 

 

 

The weather was perfect, sun, fast choppy waves and 1-2 foot swell. CK told me in his car on the way home he heard the words "Best Birthday Ever." uttered.

 

It resonated.

I read Fox's Lane's post today. It resonated. I left the following comment.

"For 17 years I have been walking my dogs across the hilltop of my town and each time I take at least a few minutes to take in the beauty of the view, imagine those who have walked that same hilltop during past millenia, watch the trees being moved by everything from gentle Summer breezes to bitter, snow-filled gales. Each time. Slow is definitely the way to live."

Six Degrees of Separation

Following on from Kipling's dogs I explained to the kids tonight over dinner about 'six degrees of separation'.

They were quite excited when they figured out they were only three degrees away from these two.

This flurry of excitement and hilarity saw them keep trying to figure out connections AND got the dishes done without any fuss.

A definite win I say!



(and also - isn't that a gorgeous image? Taken from here)

Staff meeting apologies to be minuted.

I would like to proffer formal apologies for my non-attendance at Saturday's Inaugural Staff Meeting but, factoring in the time difference and all, I have a reasonable excuse - I read the memo too late and was already booked to go into Central London.

Getting off the train at Waterloo I took the Tube to Regent's Park. A mistake on my part but the walk down Great Portland Street onto Portland Place resulted in me ending up in front of my life's soundtrack - Broadcasting House.

At this point I went 'cross-country' crossing Cavendish Square and using a non-Oxford Street entrance went into John Lewis. Squeeeeeeee! The biggest JL in the country and there was no one with me who would whinge, moan or roll their eyes about mooching through its seven floors of consumer heaven.

I spotted the 'Bobbi Brown' counter and meandered over hoping they would give me a whole new look. Nothing. So I looked at the woman behind the Benefit counter meaningfully. She sat me down and proceeded to apply her products. It was only once my chin was being twisted in her firm grip that I took a proper look at her. A Yemeni drag queen with an obvious passion for turquoise eye shadow and Nefertiti eye liner applying a make-up line created by a company in San Francisco. This did not bode well. I made the decision to stay clear of Soho when I was out walking again.

By the time I escaped her potions, lotions and puce talons it was 12:30 and my meeting with my aunt was scheduled for 2pm. Turning left into Oxford Street I headed toward the first mandatory stop in any visit I make to the Big Smoke - Liberty of London then across Regent Street and down Savile Row and onto Old Bond Street for a look through the windows of all the flash jewellers. Heading onto Piccadilly I went past the Ritz and into Park Place to meet my very aged aunt at the Royal Overseas League Club.

Given that she is a few weeks off 81 and had spent the previous four days hitting the highlights of London - two theatre trips, visits to Patisserie Valery, walks around the galleries and just that morning a trip to get her hair done - I declined her offer to walk around Green Park and we sat and had tea in the gardens at the 'Club'.

Having exchanged all our news over a couple of hours I left to head back to Waterloo to get my train. Once back onto Piccadilly there was nothing for it but to head straight to Fortnums where the concierge of the China department tempted me to a weekend in London by telling me about the special Burleigh event happening in-store on Monday. I stayed strong and resisted but it was hard.







A tree grows even in Central London on this corner of Albemarle Street & Piccadilly.


Moving through London is a bit tricksy any day at 5:00 but on a warm(ish) Spring Friday the people were everywhere so rather than squeeze onto public transport I decided to walk across town.

In search of a present for destructoBoy I stared death in the eye and entered Lillywhites. Five floors of sporting goods and equipment. With my prize claimed and good mother staus assured I continued on, crossing Pall Mall and passing the Athenaeum Club I walked down onto The Mall.

(that tiny speck at the end is Buckingham Palace -honest)

I walked through the archway and out onto Trafalgar Square.

Turning the other way I could see Big Ben at the far end of Whitehall.

With an hour and a half until departure I decided to walk up The Strand and cross the Thames up near Fleet Street.

Looking up the river The Palace of Westminster and The London Eye were silhouetted by the Constable-like clouds.

The Royal Festival Hall in the foreground. I wish I had taken a picture of the fabulous 25 foot tall straw fox artwork that is out in front of it at present.

On the other side of Waterloo Bridge is St.Paul's Cathedral, 'The Gherkin' and the beginnings of 'The Shard'.
And then rounding the Imax I was at Waterloo Station with just enough time for a restorative drink before heading off into the sunset on my trusty Great Western steed.

And so I hope the committee will accept my apologies and reasons. I hope to make a staff meeting one day.

(All pics taken with my camera phone and I am NOT responsible for Blogger's stupid layout shenanigans.)

Recent times in pictures

The White Rabbit was late for a seventh birthday party!

Gorgeous Baby Will.

Hanging out on top of The Hill.
My Assistant in the Winter sunshine.

Mother's Day Dinner made by destructoBoy.

Burden of a middle-class childhood Part 2

Watching the Brits this evening and James Corden is hosting. Princess C-W observed for a few minutes and then said

"That's him isn't ? Smithers from Gavin and Stacey?"

Roads are open - Hurrah!

Sadly this means that a rotten bastard 'nasty cold' has been able to ascend the heady heights to Trash Towers.

d/Boy and I have spent the past two days with mahoosive fevers (I say mahoosive but haven't used a thermometer since I was a concientious new mother), achey joints, snotty noses and sore heads. CK and Pr C-W have been extremely fabulous slavies and fed us regularly with medicines, liquids and restorative hot broth. This of course means that both of them will go down with it just in time for Christmas Day.

And what use is that may I ask? Who will cook the Christmas meal then?

Having made the trek over here for the holidays Giovanna & Paolo have been marooned down the hill in a lil' village before making a mercy dash to rescue niece stranded at Heathrow by snow, ice and (ahem) managerial incompetence. This turns out to have been a false alarm as she got a standby flight last night and to the best of my knowledge is now 1/3 of her way back to being on the right continent if not in the correct place.

I am guessing between that and the plague brewing at Trash Towers they are beginning to wish they had stayed at home to enjoy the rain and wind there!

Oh roll on 'The Perfect Christmas'!

Officially Marooned at Trash Towers!

Have just had word that all of the roads leading to the Outside World from up here on The Hill have been closed.

I feel a bit like Captain Oates.

We may be gone sometime.

ScottFest 2010

Move over Glasto! The kids and I headed to ScottFest last Saturday.

The weather order was filled perfectly. Blue skies, huge fluffy white clouds and no breeze.

We got there early and set-up the prettiest tent in the universe and while the terences went off to explore I sat and read the paper CK had packed for me.

One of the dads took great delight in teaching d/Boy to ride a motorbike. My boy was a bit wobbly to start but after the first circuit of the showgrounds he got it and was off. Ride like the wind Bullseye!

Princess Curly-Wurly took full advantage of the mahoosive blow-up assault course and the stilts (Although fortunately NOT at the same time. No broken legs here thanks.) before comandeering the quad bike and pegging it around the perimeter of the venue as fast as she could. My heart was in my mouth the entire time until she took me on a ride and I realised 'as fast as she could' was not the same as 'as fast as the quad will go'.

Despite packing two bedrolls, three pillows, one mahoosive airbed, three sleeping bags, two duvets, two double thickness fleece blankets, a basket of warm clothes to wear as the evening approached, jammies, loo roll, knitting, drawing paper and pencil, food to keep the troops going through until breakfast including my assistant, water for us all, a deckchair for me and picnic blanket for the rest (breath) two trips were required back up the hill. The first was for more food and water. The second for CK's spare set of car keys because I was sure I had locked his in the boot. The alternative was too dreadful to consider.

The whole event was chilled out and relaxed with people taking it in turns to cook, tend to children, mix and pour drinks. There was a marquee put up so that the evening's entertainment (Nick Tatham) had somewhere to sit while he played and a fire pit for us all to stand around and toast marshmallows once he had finished.

One of my arch-nemesis was there and put his mono-pod (or eco-pod or some such stupid name for a solid-sided domed tent) right in front of my prettiest-tent-in-the-universe. Within about five minutes he came across all smiley, hippy-happy and said

'Can't we be friends? I hate having to avert my eyes when I see people.'

'I'm not the one who said I don't like Australians' says I sunglasses down, attitude high.

'Oh you shouldn't take any notice of that. I'm a South African. (WTF?!?) Friends?' as he stretched out his hand.

Again he said 'Friends?'

Sunglasses still on I agreed and shook his hand, all the while grimacing on the inside.

d/Boy was getting quite tired by 10pm so after making the mahoosive trek to the far end of the Showgrounds and using the real loos (glamping all the way here baby) he, my assistant and I retired for the night. After a 20 minute struggle with the bedding mountain we fell asleep. Princess C-W crawled in at 11.30!

We slept well until half 3 when the requisite night-time wee was required. Of course I could not find the lead so had to hold my assistant while excavating a very sleepy d/Boy from the bedding mountain then around the back of the tent for a wee rather than head to the other end of the field. All relatively straight forward until my bladder decided it too needed to experience the full joy of camping so still holding my assistant I had to undertake all aspects of outdoor weeing with one free hand.

The whole experience was exacerbated by the proximity of the tent to a boarding kennels. My assistant was wriggling like a lunatic and growling through my hand clamped around her jaw all while d/Boy was standing admiring the bazillion stars visible in the cloud-free sky. As we settled back inside the blanket mountain that d/Boy turned to me and said 'I don't like camping.'

We shall see next Summer my boy, we shall see.

The tale end of the birthday.

This was the last birthday cake of destructoBoy's birthday week.

The Old Man Dog's help breaking into the Treasure Chest was graciously declined.

The 'X' was located and the treasure found.

There was smashing, joy and excitement.

And at the end - complete exhaustion.

Phew! I think we have the cakes sorted.

There is a tradition up here at Trash Towers of two birthday cakes on your birthday.

Yes that is correct two, because what is a birthday without cake for breakfast?

destrutoBoy has requested Lemon Drizzle to start the day which is a fresh, zingy (sugar-laden) flavour to kickstart the celebrations. Perfect choice as a recent Good Food had a recipe for a gluten-free lemon cake and I reeeeeeeeeeaaally wanted to try it.

Wish I hadn't.

It was yuk. Squooshy texture and an unceratin taste that left my tongue perplexed. So need to find another recipe (hurrah for the innernets) and also make small cakes to take into school.

The birthday boy has asked for a surprise for the teatime one. I am currently torn between A)something pool table-ish as this is his current fascination and B) something I can cover in small, plastic horses and ponies as I have been telling him for weeks he can expect 'the birthday pony' to turn up for his present.

This joke has been pleasingly exacerbated by the number of saddles and riding kit we have seen in windows of charity and junk shops recently and the fact that it is harvest time and the roads are filled with mahoosive trailers laden high with haybales.

Right then. Let the baking commence!

Nine day countdown begins.

destructoBoy is having a birthday party Sunday week.

(from here)

He has decided it is to be a treasure hunt.

Fabulous.

(from here)

Now it means I have to organise it.


Any hints?

Anyone?

Ow! My head hurts.

Have just been listening to Kathy Burke on Desert Island Discs.

A few of her choices were punk.

destructoBoy asked me what 'punk' meant.

As a result he now has a greater understanding of his social history and we both have sore heads.

My kids went to the Isle of Wight and all I got was ...

... this black eye.

Do you like it?

Do you wanna see a close-up?

Rotten blurry kid.

Sunday afternoon as everyone was lolling around recovering from the week of holiday I pushed open the door into the living room just as Princess C-W turned suddenly.

BAM!

Next thing I know I am on the floor with a black eye starting to form.

Wanna see?

I think my girl has a career in make-up artistry beckoning.

They are so realistic looking and fabulous fun to do.

This is destructoBoy's self-inflicted knee 'injury' or 'bruisescar' as it is also known he tells me.

All done with judicious application of eyeshadow and some gentle blending.

Hours of fun for the whole family. Except CK who is a grump and did not find it either funny or smart.

Less than a month left and am asking for help.

destructoBoy is having a birthday in less than a month and we have absolutely no idea of what to get him.

My boy is turning nine and loves nothing better than to run around either before, during or after hitting/kicking or throwing a ball. We have sufficient Lego to build our own theme park. And there are already three dogs, a bike, seven computers, two mobile phones and a Wii inside our gates, I don't intend adding to it.




Anyone got any ideas?









Anyone?

Seven years gone so quickly.

September 8 2003

September 23 2010

My girl finished primary school on Friday.

Seven years of tears

and laughter.

Friends, learning, music, adventure, experience and each and every year the 'humiliation' of sports day.

I delight in the fact that Princess Curly-Wurly has spent these school years with such a lovely, solid group of children. It gladdens my heart to think she will be entering the world of 'BIG' school side by side with most of them.

To each and everyone of those thirty gorgeous childer - I thank you and love you.

It's too darn hot...

... generally I refrain from mentioning the (infrequent) warmer weather we get here in the UK . Given that I spend so much of my life being cold and moaning about the freezingness of the great in and outdoors it seems churlish to have issues when the sun shines in a warm and long term manner. HOWEVER... the sun has been warmy and lovely for nearly two weeks now and I am more than a little pissed off that for the first time in many years my hayfever is back. And rocking the dripping nose. I sat watching England lose their lifeline game with TWO hankies to hand and v. scritchy eyeballs.

All of this is exacerbated by CK's brilliant plan for the weekend of 'sorting out' the garden. In reality this meantSaturday was spent shifting a few pots, finally aiding the children in planting up their tomato plants, organising the dust into little piles for Pr. C-W and d/Boy to sweep up and wrestling with making Maria officially topless. Exacerbated because I swept and planted and was left with dust covering not only my clothes but up my nose and through my hair. Cue more sneezing, snotting and general scratchiness.

The Family Fun Evening was in fact fun, not least because of the warmth, and ended with CK making a surprise appearance clutching a bottle of wine and my assistant, both children being invited to share Dervish & Dynamo's tent and the most spectacular moonrise I have ever seen. A glowing, orange, full moon seemingly just feet from my outstretched finger tips. A bit weird to be sharing food and wine with Moriarty but we managed to mutually ignore each other without too much antipathy. But by midnight my hayfever was exhausted and so I dragged CK away from the firepit and went home to fight with my duvet cover.

Sadly I lost the fight so covered a snoring CK with Pr.C-W's duvet and went off to sleep in her bed under d/Boy's one. It was an interesting experience, I know now why my girl wakes so early; I need to invest in a blackout blind for that window. By 7.30 I was rushing down the hill with breakfast of bacon, pancakes and cereal to prevent the emotional destruction that can be wrought by the empty-bellied destructoBoy. Fed half the campsite, found the lost football, drove Pr.C-W and two chums around in a topless Maria, had a falling out with an officious dad, moved my car and found the missing sleeping bag cover. Retreated up the hill with fingers crossed that Maria would make it and NOT run out of fuel leaving me stranded halfway up a 1:6 hill (=v. steep). TG we made it to the top and as far as the petrol station where patient and dirty children were rewarded with bottle of cold water and a Bounty each.

Home just minutes later meant shoehorning filth and face-paint covered children into the shower before everyone collapsed in a darkened room for the day. It was at this point that someone decided to continue with the Aran-weight (10 ply) knitting of a slipover top for Godson Will's Christmas present. Due to focus being on the situation in South Africa the band was ripped back three times and the whole lot flung across the room twice. It looks awfully big but he is visiting for the day on Wednesday so I shall measure it then. Fingers crossed he may even fit it by the holiday season.

All pleasantly exhausted.

Day dawned dry.

Somewhat belatedly we got to the venue.

A half-closed gate is usually indicative that one should NOT try and pass through said gate.

If one is sounds sufficiently apologetic in the UK one can get away with an awful lot (viz above).

Princess C-W and destructoBoy enjoyed the low ropes but were too busy hanging with their mates to line up for the abseiling and rock-climbing wall.

CK greatly impressed at the archery line. Managed to land a few arrows, even got one in the yellow! Perhaps a new hobby is on his horizon?

Next stop the river and Pr.C-W was off into the water within minutes. I looked across at one point from my spot on the bank to see my girl standing tall on the kayak seat! Great fun but eclipsed when five of them took to the water on a homemade raft. Lots of splashing, paddling in circles and cold legs but it was one thrilled and delighted girl who shivered her way back to the car to change into dry clothes.

After BBQ lunch sitting with friends we legged it back to the river's edge as dBoy and his friend Dervish had first dibs on getting into the kayaks having waited so long before lunch.

Hilarity ensued. destructoBoy got brave enough to stand up in his kayak while Dervish walked across the raft of kayaks sitting midstream. He fell in twice accidentally and deliberately the third time.

dBoy, with two other lads, balanced on a raft and paddled up and down the stream. He too ended up wet through but considers the prize his as he remained (for the most part) dry.

Exhaustion had us all by this point so we made our way home warming up and drying out while scoffing chocolate biscuits, Fruit Tingles (Australian bob) and fizzy drinks and listening to the second series of Bleak Expectations.

A big HooRa to our local Scout leaders for organising a fabulous Family Day Out in such a wonderful setting.