Long weekend away

On the settee is a pile of boys and blankets. 

All I can see are the tops of their blonde heads. They are quietly but seriously discussing the merits and flaws of Prince Caspian , sword play, treacherous siblings, mythical beasts and victorious battles.   Nothing high brow mind you - more related to the film version from 2008.

But this quiet brotherhood they have together, this 'pack-that-lives-together, hunts-together' this strong sibling link is wonderful - long may it last...... (mind you they do squabble and wrestle each other on the floor like 'ferrets in a sack' and make noises that a startled tropical parrot would be proud of!)

And considering I had contemplated having no children and growing old disgracefully with just Himself and cats - I'm rather glad I/we didn't :)

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We've been away for a few days, hence no postings, so thought I would share with you some snippets of our long weekend in a coastal town on a small island.

We saw giant 'flatties' (wood louse) on the beach

We were 'escorted' along a walk by dread-locked, flamed eyed, teeth gnashing man (and kid) eating Sheltand ponies (well only the dread-locked part was true, the alpha male - there were many males, was more interested in 'eating' the dog!)

We watched the tide come in and go out and felt refreshed by the salty air and coastal breeze

We collected pebbles, lots and lots of pebbles.....so much that we filled a rucksack and put it in the car so that Himself would not notice until we got home.......!

Such treasures, wonderful treasures :)

We hugged the sky

We flew with the gulls

We sheltered in the lee of huge sand dunes for lunch

We also crocheted, played cards, drank tea and talked long long into the night - It was lovely staying with our friends.

Thank you for having us!!

Africa-day: in which my Dad is a Hero in the eyes of my boy (and ALL his mates)

Youngest asks

We are learning all about Africa mum, can you come and talk at the school?

I reply rather absentmindedly

Hmm? umm, ok.

Youngest asks again

Would Bumpa come too?

When is it for? I think I better start concentrating now

Not for a while, the teacher says it will be ok, I have already asked if you can come

Oh, um ok, think we better speak to Bumpa

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A couple of day later, and in his most angelic voice Youngest asks my Dad -

Bumpa, we are learning about Africa at school, can you come and talk about it?

To his absolute credit my Dad did the exact opposite to what he would have rather have said and said.....

Yes

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Weeks later, we suddenly register that 'Show and Tell Africa-day' is imminent and although we have all loosely discussed African related ornaments and stories, clothes and food - we haven't actually done anything about it! My Mom decided to make some traditional 'Boer rusks' for the children to taste and asked me how many to make, and according to youngest there are 16 - 18 in his year. (Please retain this low number in your head for later.......)

Phew - not so many kids to deal with. 

As the day gets closer, nerves get a bit jangly - although I used to teach, its always a bit nerve tingly to start in a new class of faces and I knew I wasn't the only one getting cold feet..... but we'd promised and with a slight feeling of fatalistic dread we all carried on.

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On the day - which was yesterday, we met up at the school, we had bags and boxes and oddly shaped parcels holding our historic and sentimental treasures. I suggested that the children be in first so that as we arrived and opened our 'wares' the element of surprise would be heightened.

My Mom had made some copies of a map of Africa but midway through printing them her printer decided to conspire against her so ended up with only 10 copies and we asked at the school if we could have a few more copies made.....

I'll do you 33 copies the secretary cheerily said...............

33?    33?   THIRTY THREE???? 

(please retain not so low number in head for later....)

My Mom and I glance at each other and then at my Dad................. Had he heard? 

The look on his face confirmed all. 

Before he could run off we were marched to the classroom by the headteacher who whilst chatting mentioned that Youngest had been enthusing so so much about his Grandad's Africa stories that there would be a few more children - aah, I thought, that's why there are 33.

We were then met by the teacher who is such a lovely young enthusiastic lady whom Youngest adores. She said how Youngest was so pleased and proud his family were coming that she and the other teachers had added a few more children in and they were all excited to see. I suddenly thought I'd better ask how many children ....exactly... how many children....

Oh, she happily said, about 60 or 65 I'm not exactly sure...............

60!?!?! (please recall at your leisure and at our discomfort how many children were originally involved.......) 

I didn't dare look at my Dad now!

But, once we started it was fine - my Dad and Mom were brilliant, and the children loved it. Especially when historic weapons came out, a wonderful old ram rod rifle, assegai and ceremonial axes. We passed around fired clay beer pots and stone carvings. We showed porcupine quills and beads and played traditional wedding music. My Mom had made a traditional costume and one of the little girls happily wore it and danced to the music. We spoke on snakes and spiders and all things squeamish, we told of hills and mountains, of rivers so wide that it was difficult to see the other side, we spoke on lions and crocodiles,  we shared the heat and dust of Africa with the class of English children that day. 

And Youngest was a happy chappy in the back row and he later told me,  the kids in the school thought....

that his Mom, his Grandad and his Gran were AWESOME  

so I think we did ok :)

PS - there were 68 children in the end........and two teachers................and the headteacher..............and two teaching assistants.

One of those swelling-with-pride-moments that will never leave me

Shhhhhh...shhhhhh children.......shhhhh. 

A bit of shuffling and coughing happens. A baby in the audience wails, parents and grandparents try unsuccessfully slouching comfortably in the hard school chairs. We are all here to celebrate the harvest festival and the children are performing songs and playing instruments while we munch on biscuits and teas made by the school committee.


Now, says the headteacher, the children have been practising hard for today's performance and we all hope that you enjoy the show.............


My heart is thumping so hard I am sure it will drown out the singing.  I smile a confident proud-mummy smile and sneak a wave to my Youngest and he, all grown up and in his final year of junior school, gives me a knowing nod and half smile.

We listen to the 'littlies' singing (singing?) their harvest song and smile as they jump around and wave at their parents. We dutifully clap and smile as they sit down. Slightly older girls come forward and play their recorders in typical squeaky school recorder fashion and although we know what they are playing - because we are told - I struggle to follow the tune, but I suspect that my rave style thump-thumping heart is getting in the way of any melody. A bit more singing, then two girls play their flutes - they are more proficient that the recorder players and I can hear the tune but am very aware that my hands are shaking. A round of applause, then bit more singing, a further two flautists play, even more advanced than the previous two and the sound they produce is beautiful. Then, I swallow hard, and feel almost faint with nerves - why?

Because my beautiful youngest stands up and walks over to the piano and plays - faultlessly - three pieces. The hall, which had been filled with nattering parents, tea stirring and biscuit munching sounds was now completely stilled......stilled by the notes that my precious boy is filling the hall with. I want to cry with pride.

And all I can see of this little music man?     Is the top of his blonde head.....................!

I wasn't the only one with tears in my eyes.

FOs, WIPs and 52s

FOs first -

The swapsie mitts for the PINK wellies were very well received!

I am really pleased - it's always slightly nerve-wracking when I pass over something handmade to someone for the first time as I am never too sure how they will go down. They're are also a style I would not wear myself (actually I should say - not a COLOUR I would wear) but everyone who saw the mitts said that I had matched them with the person I had made them for - Woohoo!

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WIPs next 

- well as a result of the above pink froth and frivolity - I am making yet another pair but an even PINKER pair as a thingymas pressie. All this pinkness is making me fair dizzy and light headed - think I better go and stick the kettle on to recover :)

Ah, that's better, a steaming mug of pukka ginger tea and I'm almost feeling back to my normal self . 

The multi-coloured throw is also nearly done, one more stripe (two rows) and the edging and then I can give it to it's new owner. I will be glad when it is finished, I had enjoyed doing it - lovely bright jolly colours but I am almost fed up with it now and this last week I have let the blankie linger in it's basket and every time I walk by, it gives me a funny look - so I better get it finished!

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52s -

Last night, after work, I came home feeling really really tired, Then, all of a sudden and quite unexpectedly I got this urge to bake - good grief - I didn't see that coming!

So - I made this.............

......lemon drizzle cake and it is YUM. 

The boys each have a lemony-sticky slice in their lunch boxes as a surprise. It's not often these days I get to bake with out any little helpers - even the big one (Himself) 'helps' but usually with the licking out of the bowl where as the shorter 'helpers' want to stir and chop and slice and roll. The cake is so simple and quick to make and it is now officially number 35 of my 52 things I've not cooked before.

LEMON DRIZZLE CAKE

• 125g butter
• 175g caster sugar
• Grated rind and juice 2 lemons
• 2 eggs lightly beaten
• 175g self-raising flour
• About 4tbs milk
• 50g granulated sugar

Cream butter, caster sugar and lemon rind until fluffy 

Gradually beat in eggs 

Mix in flour and add about 4tbs milk - mixture should be soft enough to drop off spoon

Grease a 2lb loaf tin

Bake in a moderate oven -  gas 4/180C for 45 to 50 mins until risen with a lovely golden colour, firm on top.

Just before cake comes out of the oven, prepare lemon syrup - 

Heat lemon juice and granulated sugar gently until sugar has dissolved, I did it in the microwave for about 40 seconds

When the cake is out of the oven and still steaming hot in the loaf tin, jab it all over top with a skewer then pour on the lemony syrup.

Leave the cake in the tin until cold, it looks soggy at first, but soon soaks in all that lovely lemony yumness :)

And if you can refrain from scoffing while it still warm, leave until completely cool and then slice yourself a delicious sticky piece, put on the kettle, sit back and enjoy. hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.***

***(smacking of lips and licking of fingers play an essential role in this final stage)

Lovers, tears and cascading leaves

Entwined and twisted into each other, long limbs clasping tight, 

wrapping the other closely. 

 Never to be separated until death.

 Linked. 

Timeless. 

Lovers in an ancient track watching as the world passes them by.

Beautiful.

We've been walking today - Sunday. A quiet valley nestling against a wild moor land. A cutting breeze seemed to slice through our fleeces and gloves, giving a sharp reminder that summer had gone and autumn reigns supreme. Colours of orange and reds were splashed across the hill sides and thick swathes of fallen leaves banked up again the lane edge.

When we had almost completed the walk, we meet two tearful women, a mother and daughter, each clinging to piebald cob. The older woman asked if we had seen another piebald and his mate - a dark bay horse as they had been fruitlessly searching for the missing pair.

We told them that had seen their horses at the far side of the huge field we had just walked through. Their relief was palpable. They began to babble an explanation to us as well as reassuring themselves about their worry that the bay had been shot before they could say their last goodbyes.

There were tearfully bitter comments about man who was to shoot their beloved animal, angry and hurt words.
He is not fit to keep the horse, he did not understand their  pain and love for this horse. He did not have a right to shoot this animal as it was not his......


'He' was the younger woman's father and the older woman's ex-husband. Oh what misery this divorce had created.

We left and they turned back to where we had pointed out the horses, determined to see the animal one last time before it's destruction and to find and comfort it's mate. Our happy walk seemed sullied by their sadness.

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Autumnal Recipe - cascading leaves

• Take one 'almost teenager' (but in self denial)
• Collect various autumnal leaves - making sure they are brightly coloured and differing sizes
• Have in your stash of sticks a particularly knobbly and interesting one
• Find a reel of white cotton

Tie leaves on to the cotton
Arrange the lengths of cotton then tie to the interesting and knobbly stick
Hang the stick above the glass doors so as the sun streams through, the leaves catch the light.

Stick the few remaining leaves with tape to the glass and down the wall to continue the cascade downwards.

Voilà - autumnal cascading leaves

And if you enjoyed this 'recipe' - you might like to check this one out too!

girls-nite

When I was a veterinary nurse and still wet behind the ears, I was taken under the wing of the senior receptionist who over the years has proved to be a life long friend. She introduced me to a 'girls-nite' of like minded women who would meet roughly every month to celebrate a birthday, and on the months there wasn't a birthday then we'd celebrate divorces, engagements, weddings, births and in the absence of any of those, we just met up anyway. 

Over the years we've grown up, grown older, some of us have moved on, moved away, returned but the group still gets together and to celebrate  friendship and to laugh and cry and complain about partners/weather/children/horses/the price of this and the price of that/the state of the world/good and bad,  and we eat. 

And we  eat well!

And last night was no exception - we feasted on a delightful selection as we all bring a different dish. My contribution was a leek bread pudding,**  there was also roasted winter vegetables (the best I have tasted in a very long time), roast chicken, meatballs, green salad drenched in gloriously garlicky dressing, new potatoes, freshly made coleslaw, courgette quiche and pizza.....hmmmmmm. 

Happy tummy :)

**number 34 in my 52 things I have not cooked before - the link takes you to Smitten Kitchen's web site, I did my usual and modified it some what. I will give my version soon. 

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My kinda maths ........

(ADD)

Be given one pair of brand new wellies 

(not a colour I would wear)

(MENTALLY SUBTRACT) 

but know someone who does

(ADD)

Take three balls of different yarn 

(note the colour again)

(ADD)

Blend two of the three yarns

(SHOW ALL WORKINGS)

Find a hook and make a mitten

(MULTIPLY)

Or two

(REVERSE STRATEGY FORMULA)

and swap the mittens for the wellies

(ANSWER =  A POSITIVE RESULT)

Then give the wellies to a pink loving friend 

who I know will give them a good home

Done!!

I love happy endings :)

ps - just need to finish off the mittens and take the wellies to Anglesey to their new home

I have to say I am off to the kitchen to put the kettle on, 

all that PINKNESS has made me feel quite dizzy! 

Phew need to dash off to recover! 

Any one else up for a tea? 

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Autumn

The colours of autumn

fiery reds

acid greens

rusty oranges

chocolatey browns

The smells of autumn

wood smoke

crisp air

sweet scent of ageing leaves

damp tang of the earth

The sights of autumn

fallen leaves

bright berries

seed heads

leaf skeletons 

The essentials of autumn

collecting acorns

looking for the most beautiful leaves

wearing favourite scarves

making more mittens

10.10.10 - important date - to me

August 1985. 


He reached up and pulled out of the back of the pick-up my entire belongings...I had just arrived, flustered and tired, having travelled for hours and hours,  first by coach, then by train and finally by the company pick-up down to Devon. 


As he lugged my suitcase he grunted ....

'F¥**! <  H3$$! what have you got in here - the kitchen sink?' 

I was partly shocked at his statement and totally taken in by his deep voice and northern accent. And give or take a few days, we have been inseparable since -  25 years of friendship and love.

Happy birthday to you my best and truest friend - I shall always love you.


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And to celebrate his birthday - Himself declared a day of walking.

It was a gloriously warm and sunny autumnal day. With a picnic of birthday cake (ginger and apple) vegi sausage rolls, egg mayo sarnies, tea and apples we set off.

The rays of sun through the trees sparkled on the leaves, reflected brightly off the river and warmed our faces and our moods.

I took many many pictures, I love the shades of autumn, the crisp colours and honey scent of decaying leaves. I love the lengthening shadows - making me over ten feel tall!

I love the historic reminders of an industrial age, they are silent testament to the strength of self belief and mistaken invincibility. Enormous monuments to the power of the few and the sweat, blood and probably death of many. 

At a confluence of two rivers, we stopped and observed the strength in the flow of water. Trapped by rocks were clusters of mosaics and tapestries made from fallen leaves.

We followed ancient drover's tracks, packhorse ways,  a Victorian ha-ha and riverside walks. We went through and over many different stiles with great anticipation how giddy dog would tackle them. She 'throws' herself at them with apparent lack of planning or care and some of her attempts are quite spectacular, others have us gasping with laughter or admiration.

The views were  glorious as we sat in the sun and toasted  to Himself's birthday  with mugs of tea and munched on cake, and finally when we came off the hills it was almost dark. A quick stop off in a favourite town on the way home to buy steaming hot fish and chips to eat with burning fingers and gusto.

And, later, much later Himself said that, when in the morning I told him to cut his cake and make a wish (like I do for the boys) he had wished for a lovely day, good weather and a wonderful walk

and his wish came true....... I so love him!

Walks then cakes, makes and bakes

Saturday - the sun shone (erm above the clouds methinks) but at least it was dry and bright, so we grabbed our walking boots, a young friend and set off. We went over the tops to Wycoller. We older wiser (ok - less agile) walkers chatted as we went along whilst the boys hopped puddles, cleared streams, hid in the bracken and ran through the woodland. It was a lovely cathartic walk where we could breathe in that beautiful clear autumnal air.

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A really wet and rainy Sunday ................Perfect!

Perfect for making a model house for a school project

Perfect for baking brownies and flapjacks.

Perfect weather for staying in, having the fire on and finishing homework.

So that's exactly what we did.

I have neglected my 52 recipes for a while now so thought with the boys hindrance help I'd reduce our egg mountain with a bit of baking and improve my new recipe tally.

Or so I thought.

I ended up the bottle-washer to their 'chef' status..... so, I don't think I can really add their baking to my list.....but I am going to anyway!

Peanut Butter Brownies

I often linger, longingly, at Smitten Kitchen's web site, which has the effect of sometimes inspiring me, sometimes shaming me but always making me hungry for more. Recently I've not had the inclination nor the weather for cooking but as I said earlier - today was perfect.

Eldest quickly commandeered this recipe, and with Gallic style flourishes he took over the kitchen and I was left translating the American weights and measures and washing up for him. Still the kitchen, then the house was filled with the warm scent of baking.

Now, if one son bakes, by the law of the universe and all that is good and great - the other one has to do too (aargh!)
SO, after lunch, Youngest had the chance for a bit of baking and tasting and smacking of lips and licking of fingers and made Flapjacks

We've made a variant of this biscuit often which we know as  'Viking biscuits'  but as this recipe was different enough for me, I added it to my 52 new recipes. The recipe came from 'Cakes & bakes from my mother's kitchen'  which is absolutely sinful and tempting all in one drool making book.

So this baking session has with the help of my boys has brought up my tally to 32 and 33 in my challenge to reach 52 new recipes cooked this year!

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October - ALREADY!!

What happened to September?


September who?


Ahh, yes - I remember - September! Hmm, a round up, me thinks....................
Well, when I first thought back to September, my thoughts were of a quiet time, until I looked back at my posts to remind myself of what I actually got up to and was staggered at how busy we'd been!
And this is what we did... visiting, holidays, work, school, walking, crocheting, crafting, sewing, camping, birthday parties, celebrated a give-away for my one-year bloggiversary, we went to Galloway, Anglesey and Northumberland, there was transporting boys to and from friends, to and from cubs camp, sleep overs and days out. harvesting, gardening, my Dad's birthday, both ours and my folk's wedding anniversaries remembered AND forgotten!   - so, no not a quiet time at all was our September - How could I have thought that September was a quiet one??




A thought...
noticing the gentle decay of summer into the russet hues of autumn

A sound...
the sounds of laughter of my boys

A taste...
of the blackberries that Himself has collected 


An image...

A scent...
the warm smell of wood smoke

A word...
the whispered 'I love you' as you kiss the boys good night

A touch...
the increasingly short time left to hold a child's hand before they grow up. It's funny, as their need to hold hands reduces, my need to hold theirs feels to have grown.
A gift for me...
gifted yarns with so much potential and promise 

A post you may have missed..

Marta's quilt - a beautiful labour of love

A normal (for me) day at work   oh yes, I regularly have days like these....

Boys, walking and a dead sheep thief and more