projectforty

I owe it all to Madonna

2012-01-27T16:15:00.000Z

I ran yesterday - for ten whole minutes - in a row. Without stopping. A total run of 27 minutes with 3 breaks of 1 minute in between each run. I'm sorry I've gone all 'show and tell' about this but I'm amazed.

I was listening to 'Confessions on a Dance Floor' - do you remember that album? I think it was the one where her-madgeness wore big knickers and leg warmers in most of the videos. I may be wrong.

Anyway....CoaDF got me to the next village and back.

I'm a little stuck now. It seems silly to run to a village and run back again. I have an urge to continue beyond but if I do that, I'll be out for a lot longer and I think I'll be over-extending myself somewhat. I don't want to get carried away and ruin all my hard work by getting bored or, worse still, injured.

Little and often has worked so far.

birdsong

2012-01-23T18:02:00.000Z

Of course Birdsong won the competition and I stayed up till the wee small hours tweaking away at the essay.

The significant looks and moody stares of the former sent me scurrying for my laptop and I only saw the steamy bits out of the corner of my eye whilst contemplating Grayson Perry's pots.

I thought Birdsong looked beautiful and I remember reading it but like many other novels, I can't for the life of me remember what happens. I got a little bored with the romantic scenes of love and stifled romance but thought the scenes from the trenches were filmed beautifully. I was amazed by the faces of the soldiers, particularly what's is name. I could have looked at him for hours and not for all the wrong reasons thank you very much.

Whilst tapping away and pondering my punctuation, I half watched the programmes I'd taped about illuminated manuscripts. I was surprised to see Malmesbury get a fair-sized mention although I was pleased to be only half concentrating as the presenter, as lovely and obviously intelligent as she was, drove me nuts. I have a note in my diary to watch the programmes again, notepad in had so that I can count this as research but I think I may need to employ some judicious fast forwarding.

We've just had a delicious lasagne type meal made with rice by J. A treat to come home and not have to think about dinner. As the results of a home economics class it wasn't half bad and there were four clean plates. G was given The World at War boxed set for Christmas so my essay will be completed with the sound of the Battle of the Britain in the background. Military history documentaries are definitely a cure for procrastination.

something old, something blue

2012-01-22T21:03:00.000Z

I'm having a typewriter moment. I used this machine and some carbon paper to make a few pieces of work last term. I learned to type on a typewriter. I think my first temp job in 1988/89 involved some kind of word processor but I learned to touchtype during my 'A' levels. I don't know why. I think it was some kind of displacement activity, much like this blog post is now. There are many things I should be doing instead of posting about my typing history.

I used to love those scenes in films, when the writer would sit down at their typewriter and feed a sheet of crisp white paper into the roller and start to tap, tap, ting away. There was something very romantic and exciting about someone sitting down and making stuff up.

I got Series 1 of The Waltons on DVD for Christmas and the aspiring writer, John-Boy borrows a typewriter to submit his first piece of writing to a New York magazine. What an event that must have been - however fictional. A young man in rural America sending a manuscript to a publisher in the big city. It made me think of how much I take this blogging malarkey for granted.

One of my occasional amusements is to make blog names up, just to see if they're available. At one point I had 38 completely empty blogs, all with different names. I deleted them, eventually, but they hang around. I suppose because there's nothing to stop me making them, sometimes I have a little frenzy. Again, a displacement activity.

On the running front - I can now run for seven minutes without stopping. I think I could probably do ten if the right track came on my Ipod but I can't run and change a song at the same time yet. That's my next target.

I had my first running etiquette quandary this morning. I'd plodded off on my usual route and was on the return leg, back into the village. I saw one of the Dads from school, a Dad who is known to do the odd marathon, purposefully running towards me in a very sensible high visibility running top, glancing at what I imagine was a proper running watch (I clutch my phone and use the stopwatch function).

Now, should I have skipped across the road to run on the other side - or should he? Should he have run around me or should I have run around him? I was at the end of my allotted running time - I certainly couldn't stop for my walking section. That would have been too embarassing. I was embarassed enough to be seen lolopping along in the first place.

In the end I did the running around. It seemed the thing to do. Perhaps that's how it works - maybe the slowest runner does the biggest detour...

Now, Birdsong or essay, Birdsong or essay....

on your marks....

2012-01-16T21:58:00.000Z

Today has been a topsy turvy day...

I went for a run despite the terrifying possibility of being seen by the occupants of J's school bus just after 8am. I ran for 27 minutes - 6 x 4 minutes, 1 x 3 minutes, all with a minute walk in between. I can now run for the length of a whole song. That's never happened before.

It took me an hour and a half to get to Swindon. Some sort of incident resulted in a tailback all the way to Brinkworth. If I'd had my usual reaction and taken a short cut I would have just about got there in time but no, I didn't trust my instincts and sat in a line of traffic for nearly an hour. Unheard of in these rural parts.

My other windscreen wiper's rubber blade fell off and my water was iced up until I reached Purton. Interesting driving in the low winter sun.

The loo I had to visit as soon as I got to college had lost its flush. Very unpleasant.

I tripped over the gap in the lift.

I carefully tipped my packet of sugar into the bin instead of my coffee.

I got a 2:1 for my first assessement (hurrah!)

I couldn't find a bank statement I need. I found the online username and password so that I can retrieve it. One of the finest uses of technology I can think of.

I put a chicken in the oven to roast after supper so that it would be cooked ready to make some chicken pie for supper tomorrow. I left it in there for three and a half hours whilst trying to meet a deadline. It looks a little sunburnt and is not as moist as it might be but with a bit of stock it will be fine (we hope).

So, a topsy turvy kind of day but not bad for the, allegedly, most depressing day of the year.

my problem with the Olympics....

2012-01-11T10:31:00.001Z

I've never considered myself sporty.

My Dad was quite sporty. I remember a few occasions in my childhood when he 'coached' me in the art of athletics. These occasions were infrequent and shortlived. Our first session on running was followed by my falling over in the semi-final of the under 11s 100 yards dash on a chilly field somehwere near Garswood, Lancashire. The other session that springs to mind is the time I was 'chosen' to do the javelin - I was chosen because I was sensible and gentle enough not to poke any other child with the javelin and I was rubbish at running. Dad & I spent a pleasant afternoon in our usefully elongated backgarden throwing a broom handle. I have a feeling he even sharpened one end.

The day of the athletics competition came and I threw my javelin about 150cm. Not good. This would have been in Bedfordshire, possibly at middle school. By the time I reached secondary school proper, all sporting aptitudes had been thoroughly assessed and I was lacking in all of them. My talent lay in being able to wear the most number of layers before waddling out to stand in the same rectangle as the hockey players and, of course, being able to roll my school socks down short enough so that I could get a proper tan on my legs during the hour or so tennis practice we had each week in the summer.

Since leaving school I've had a penchant for exercise classes and DVDs. Step was a bit of a challenge. I would take myself off to a hall in Forest Hill on Sunday mornings and come home with an injury from slipping off the step or being hit in the face as I was on the wrong side of mine as everyone was on the other side of theirs.

Bodycombat was a disaster - all that yelping. I quite like Bodybalance - stretching, a few situps. Bodypump is OK as long as you use little weights. Spinning was a total nightmare - our local gym has the bikes arranged in a circle. Why would I want to see anyone exercise, least of all have them see me?! I think Spinning was my least favourite class - I went twice. You know I love Zumba. Probably the best exercise class of all. Organised dancing, good music and, crucially, no getting on a dirty, dusty floor to do horrible crunches.

I had one of the original Jane Fonda tapes. I was very partial to Lorraine Kelly's DVDs after I had the kids. She had a South African trainer and I still do some of the arm exercises. The music was pants though. I've got Tracey Anderson on the DVD shelf. She's fierce and I find her humourless and as for Davina - love the exercises but it gets to a point where I start pulling her faces and doing her little one-liners as well as the squats and lunges.

Since living in the country, I've walked a bit, cycled a bit. Did a triathlon (badly) once. There are a few useful loops - a walking one round the river and a couple of loops out to neighbouring villages and back which are good for bike riding. A woman can get into quite a routine for a few weeks.

So you see, it's not as if I don't try. I try lots of things. I know I'm supposed to. I enjoy my tries. I get quite enthusiastic for a few weeks and then I get bored. Deeply bored. I also become slightly resentful and insubordinate. A little voice starts in my head - "why should I involve myself in this exercise malarkey, yes I know I'll feel better and I might get a little slimmer but it makes me ache and I really couldn't bear to become some kind of exercise evangelist. They're all scary and a little suspicious."

So - my problem with the Olympics is that for the best part of this year, we're all going to be subjected to incessant sportiness to, I think, the expense of all the other things that Britain and Britishers are great at. Yes, we give sport a good go and yes, most of the Olympic facilities seem to be coming on very nicely and aren't we great at putting on a show but, really, does it all have to be about the fastest, the strongest, the highest, the longest, the biggest, the best?

What about the rest of us who just go about trying a few things and moving ourselves around a bit? Isn't that good enough? Apparently there are targets to inspire us all to take up sport. If all we see all year are individuals who spend their entire lives moving about and running around so that they can be the best, some of us might be inspired NOT to take up sport. If we're constantly celebrating the best - perhaps the rest of us will just think, what's the point, I won't be getting a medal?

I hope somewhere in this Olympic PR juggernaut are a few reminders that, actually, it's OK to do a bit of exercise. That it doesn't have to be about winning or competing or shaving all your hair off so that you can go a bit faster. Exercise is good for you and if you can swap some of your telly and pizza eating time for a few hours a week of running about or doing a class or walking to work or taking your kids to the park for a kick about, you'll feel a lot better.

My running? I've become an addict. I have a spreadsheet. I've run for 68 minutes in 5 sessions over 9 days. I have a horrible feeling that this is probably more than I've run (ever) in my entire adult life. Why has this addiction suddenly gripped me? My body aches and my knees feel dodgy already but it makes me feel fantastic for the rest of the day. Why does no-one tell you this? I feel as if someone has been keeping a very big secret from me and I'm very pleased to have been let in on it.

doing as I'm told...

2012-01-09T16:40:00.000Z

...just not when I've been told to.

I have a deadline. I've been aware of this deadline since the beginning of November. It's not too close but it's close enough.

The Worker reminded me about my new year's commitment to focus and concentration last night. We'd gone to bed and I started to tell him about an advertisement I'd seen for a two day a week job, a contract for 7 months, working with schools, creative this and that, sounds ideal. On and on I went until he kindly but firmly pointed out that, really, this degree malarkey should be my priority and did I really want to spend (at least) two days a week trying to convince myself that such a job had been a really good idea when I wasn't actually doing it and having to drive around South West England finding schools, trebling my carbon footprint, having to buy new workwear and squeeze everything else around two days a week which will definitely involve working during the summer holidays. I'm glad he thinks things through....

As he was right, I woke relieved that I hadn't fired off an email requesting the job description. Me and that gun jumping is a dangerous thing.

Instead, I spent the morning at Swindon hospital with J's suspected broken metatarsal. It wasn't broken and it was quite pleasant for a trip to A&E. The car park charging machines weren't working - a nice surprise. I'd taken some sandwiches and a flask, packed my knitting (my new project is another story) and taken the brief for my 2nd year essay (see deadline above) so that I could put together an outline for my tutorial tomorrow. A couple of hours with nothing else to do apart from knit, write, eat and drink was just what I needed. They says there's always a silver lining...

I've written something that I'm quite pleased with although I have no idea whether it fits the brief or is detailed/ academic enough. I'll take it tomorrow and see what happens.

No run today - am just about to start dinner and do a bit of zumba on the wii while it's cooking. Running tomorrow though. A school run run - my least favourite. I really don't like to be seen doing 'what I call' running! Not yet anyway.

let's do the time warp

2012-01-08T18:18:00.000Z

I watched Jonathan Ross last night, mainly because I like John Bishop and his Scouse vowels (You can take the girl out of the north but you can't take etc....).

I preferred JR when he was on the radio for many reasons. I watch him sometimes because he gets good guests. Last night we were treated to John Bishop, Brian Cox (not sure about him on many levels) and three of our female Olympic athletes.

This is where my next rant begins. It was as if feminism simply hadn't happened.

The athletes looked beautiful but were dressed as if they'd had second pick from the wardrobe of The Pussycat Dolls - all stacked platform stilletos and barely there dresses. JR asked them about their relationships, their marital status and alluded to the fact that they were all so gorgeous the male guests on the show would be 'sorting themselves out' during the break.

JR is probably old enough to be these girls' father, if not uncle. Would he like it if a man of his age spoke to his daughter or his niece like that? It's not big and it's not clever.

Has the last hundred or so years of feminism simply become an amusing and ineffectual historical sidenote?

ups and downs....

2012-01-06T12:06:00.000Z

My chickens have gone. Feathers strewn. I feel terrible. I checked to put them in last night and they were wandering about in the garden enjoying the chilly dusk. I went to pick up J, came home and didn't think about them again. how awful is that? I simply assumed that The Worker had done the honours. A bad start to the day. I've been giving them free rein of the garden for about a month so at least they were having a happy time. I just feel rotten.

On a happier note, I ran for fifteen whole minutes this morning. Not consecutively, of course, two minutes six times with a minute walk in between and a last hurrah of three whole minutes. It didn't make me feel any better about the chickens, I'm just slightly surprised that I'm not an aching heap on the floor. I'm still not convinced this is the exercise that will stick with me but, as they say, so far so good.

keeping abreast of the issues

2012-01-04T09:54:00.002Z

I had an impromptu bra fitting the day before yesterday at M&S in windswept Swindon. I came away feeling a little shocked. It appears I am a small B (possibly in some styles an A!). I had always thought of myself as a B - C. It appears not. Is this an age thing? Quite probably. I lost a little weight last year and it must have dented my cleavage rather than other areas of my body.

Now, here comes the rant....

I will not, however, be rushing to a cosmetic enhancement clinic for a breast enlargement. Recent news regarding implants and their safety hasn't influenced me. I've always thought it was ill-advised and potentially damaging to consider major surgery to remedy some kind of bodily aesthetic fault. I'd rather spend a few spare thousand pounds on a holiday or going to college, or even something useful like transport or paying off the mortgage.

I wouldn't want to make cosmetic surgery illegal and it's vital that people who require reconstructive surgery after illness, accident or in response to psychological trauma can access it with support of their GP and other health professionals.

I've just always felt uneasy about the purely cosmetic, the quick nip and tuck, the injecting, the filling, the cutting and sewing up. If that's how a person wants to spend their money then that's up to them but cosmetic surgery appears to have become much more accessible, much more mainstraim and it's the business element, the marketing element, the normalising of it and the identikit look it seems to produce in its customers that I don't like. It's the fact that young women are portrayed as almost 'requiring' surgery if they don't conform to a particular beauty fashion. The current vogue for the big breast, big lip look has transformed some of our most beautiful women into look-a-likes. Where's the joy without difference, quirkiness and individual beauty?

Listening to the radio reports, there were discussions of how cosmetic surgery clinics, as businesses, were allegedly offering cheaper implants to make more money. Now, what sort of business is it that not only cuts (let's face it) mostly women up, introduces various chemicals and substances to change / improve their body for large amounts of money and then tries to cut corners?

Cosmetic surgery procedures are usually elective but why are so many of us choosing to undergo surgery in an attempt to assuage our insecurities and worries about our physical appearance? Surely those doctors and clinic managers are aware that huge, global, international marketing forces are constantly reinforcing the idea that our bodies are not worth it if they don't cost us a small fortune every month to primp, paint, de-fuzz and sculpt into one of their airbrushed specimens?

Are they not profiteering from the insecurities created by our current cultural obsession with a certain kind of beauty? Perhaps this crisis will be the beginning of a stocktake of what some of us are doing to ourselves in the name of beauty.

small steps, aching legs

2012-01-02T10:45:00.000Z

I ran again this morning. Second time. That's almost a habit. We're supposed to be going skiing at half term although there appears to be a distinct lack of snow (let's not think about that). Whilst watching that rather racy episode of Sherlock last night, I worked out that my programme of running needs to be speeded up so that I can complete it before we go away. This means squeezing 24 runs in total into 49 days. I can feel a spreadsheet coming on.

This morning's run felt a little easier although I seem to have peculiar calves and have developed a nagging ache in my hip. This running malarkey is making me feel old and decidedly creaky but, so I'm told, I need to keep going until running feels good. By my calculations, this should be by mid-February. Let's hope so.

Today is a gardening and menu planning day. Tomorrow we start going back to school/work. All plans will be thrown out of the window!

things I might do in 2012

2012-01-01T09:56:00.000Z

I'm not known for my perseverance. I'm interested in many things, too many sometimes. I've decided that 2012 is going to be a year of concentration. I need to focus on my degree, my family and developing my freelance work - writing and teaching. I'm going to think before I rush off to the next thing, the new thing, just because it catches my eye. I'm not going to have the luxury of studying forever. I need to make the most of the opportunities and resources at college.

I have got an urge, however, to start running. The Worker runs. I like the idea of running early in the morning. I started a beginner's programme yesterday. I have achy hips and calves today. Apparently, I need to talk to myself in a positive way and keep going. I hope to follow this very gentle programme for a couple of weeks, just to see if I can.

We shall see.

Got any unexpected activities on your list for 2012?

hanging around

2011-12-21T15:13:00.001Z

Day three of the Christmas holidays and our usual domestic inertia has set in. I have seen J & E for precisely 20 minutes so far today. They are both, resolutely, staying in their rooms in their pyjamas being very quiet and low maintenance.

I dreamt of these times on many occasions when my medium sized children were small. Those years were spent out and about, strapping them in the car seat, unstrapping them, loading various bags and baggages with snacks. Now they help themselves to the cupboards and make their own lunch. There's something very liberating for all of us about it but it's also a little bit sad. We seem to spend less time in each other's company.

Our household and our Christmases are definitely changing. The clothes are getting bigger, the cupboards are barer more often and the demands are different but just as, well, demanding. It's interesting to see and feel how we're all changing and reacting to the next phase of our family life.

It's all good but it's not the same. We'll still be making reindeer cake on Friday though!

*****

I went to a Zumba Christmas party on Monday. Not that I've been to Zumba very regularly since September. Monday classes clash with college, Friday I'm invariably catching up with the stuff I've neglected all week and I just can't face getting off the sofa in the evening to make an 8pm class. It was beautifully organised and everyone had a good night from what I could tell. Over a hundred Wiltshire ladies, dolled up and determined to have a good time. We looked lovely and very fit, of course!

It was very entertaining despite the fact that it's the first time I've encountered incessant facebook photo taking. I don't have a facebook account. I don't want one but it now appears my photograph has found its way to facebookland thanks to my fellow party goers. Does a little partying warrant a download of a couple of hundred megabytes without actually asking if anyone might have an objection? If I wanted to put myself on facebook, I would. I don't want other people to do it for me. I haven't seen the photographs but I imagine they're not ones I would choose to keep for myself, least of all circulate.

Is it me being ever-so 20th century or am I right to feel a little peeved?

how things change....

2011-12-17T14:01:00.000Z

One of the few things I remember about my childhood Christmases was the advent calendar. I shared one with my sister and it was the same one every year. We were instructed not to rip the doors off and had to close them up at the end of the festive season so that the calendar could be stored carefully away in the sideboard. It had a very traditional nativity scene with glowing halos, wise men and a starry starry night.

This year we have three advent calendars in the house. One (as pictured) with each little pocket stuffed with two identical chocolates from the Celebrations box bought by Grandma at the beginning of December. They have to have identical chocolates because although my children are well in the age range of communication and discernible speech, there would be dreadful morning rows if one had a Snickers and one a Milky Way to munch on before breakfast.

We then have two others, kindly provided by Granny, magnetised to the fridge and much enjoyed (still). This year these are of a more traditional ilk - one year we had a daily joke, no less. The little windows are opened with as much enthusiasm, usually just after the chocolate wrapper has been put in the bin. Once these calendars are finished with, I'll store them with the Christmas decorations, still not quite able to consign them to the recycling bin.

I heard on the radio a couple of days ago that Christmas is one of the most stressful times of the year particularly between couples as they try to impose their own family traditions on the other. When chatting about this to The Worker, neither of us could remember a great deal of our early Christmases but both agreed that many of our traditions come from the above mentioned Granny. We have stockings every year for all of us (not just the kids) and there are table presents. We drink to absent friends at eleven (not one of Granny's), we have to have ham, egg and chips on Christmas Eve (J's tradition) and we still leave a 'cake' for Rudolph and a little sherry for Santa. Hardly ground-breaking stuff but I wonder whether our kids will insist that their partners adopt these rituals when they have homes of their own?

There are other traditions in our house, of course:

- I always forget to send several Christmas cards, usually the ones to people far, far away

- The Worker asks for wrapping paper at 10pm on Christmas Eve

- I lose several stocking presents throughout December, only to find them in January

- I forget to make a Christmas cake until 15th

- the bins are always full because I miss the last collection which is usually when The Worker is away

What are your traditions?

wild? it's livid!

2011-12-13T17:41:00.000Z

This is one of our favourite family sayings and very apt it is for today's inclement weather. So far we've had wind, rain, hail, snow, thunder and a smattering of sunshine in between the dark, scary clouds.

I have a rotten cold - forgive me if you already know this. I had to get my haircut this morning so drove across the county boundary in my little Punto dreaming of a big 4 x 4 with heated seats and windows that don't fug up quite so much as mine do. My 4 x 4 dreams were quashed when I had problems parking - never my strong point. I was trying to save 60p. Pointless. I blame my cold. I've been blaming it for the last fortnight and this is why I'm in my usual Christmas pickle. I've written and posted almost all the Christmas cards. I've bought and wrapped and posted almost all the Christmas presents. I've cleaned almost a whole bathroom. I've thought about making some mince pies and almost bought some mincemeat. It's almost Christmas!

Never mind. I've had a lovely haircut. I have finally grown out my layers and am back to my bobbed curlyish, greyish at the roots mop - something will have to be done about that. What possessed me to give my hair such a severe chop a couple of years ago I still have to fathom. I won't be doing that again in a hurry. I don't have the right sort of cheekbones for short hair - I don't really have cheekbones.

I'm waiting for The Worker to return home. I'm always a little twitchy in the winter as he does thousands of miles in the car each year. I love the dark nights until I start thinking about the roads and traffic. With today's howling gales, I'll be even more pleased to see him than I usually am. Also, there was a clunk in the chimney yesterday. He needs to get a torch out and get that sorted before he lights the fire!

school's out....

2011-12-12T16:33:00.000Z

I'm done. The first assessment has been submitted. I managed to get everything finished on time despite the efforts of various online file converters and have left my work suitable labelled and organised in my 'space' at college.

I've never had a 'space' before. It seems to me that a lot of art speak refers to 'space'. Go into any gallery and someone with trendy looking glasses will be talking about the 'great space' - a usually big room, usually painted white. My space is basically a corner created by two tall boards about a metre and a half wide each with a desk and a chair and a drawer unit that I appropriated at the beginning of term. I like it. It's like sitting in a big book and filling the pages.

I'm lucky to have a room of my own at home. I use the term 'of my own' lightly. This is not the same thing as a 'space'. My room is where everything that doesn't quite belong to someone else ends up. It's the room which always needs a tidy up, a sort out. It's the room where everything gets slung. It's the room where I hoard my stash of materials - craft and otherwise. It's the room where I try to work and think and make in between making the dinner and contemplating the necessity of yet another load of laundry. I love my room at home and I appreciate the space I have. If I was being very greedy, I'd have a sofa in it but I've got too much stuff in it so the sofa will have to wait. I'd only fall asleep on it anyway so I suppose not having a sofa in there is a very good thing. I only have to go next door to the living room if I need one.

On to other matters....

I posted a picture of my red satchel because I got it two Christmases ago. It gets overlooked on a daily basis as I reach for smaller, less red bags. I often use it when I go to galleries and exhibitions because it's big enough to take a sketchbook but not too bulky.

I think it needs to be brought off its hook and used for the festive season. What do you think? I posted it also because I'm quite interested in bags: how we use them, what we put in them, what gets left at the bottom. I think of them as our own little portable rooms, a space which we carry around with us. We all know that you can tell a lot about the person about their bag - what's in it, whether they even carry one, whether they let friends/children/husbands through the fastenings for a rummage.

Do you have a special bag? Have you used the same one forever? Do you eschew the lure and convenience of the day bag? Are you a bag floozie?

I really should be....

2011-12-11T20:02:00.000Z

...finishing off my project for this term's assessment

...wrapping some presents

...ordering a few I've forgotten(whoops!)

...writing the next chapter

...popping a little colour on my greying roots

...taking some more benylin for my two week old cough

...exfoliating and moisturising my winter-parched skim

...crocheting a few more snowflakes

...making next week's list

I'm going to, I just need someone or something to separate my backside from the sofa...

Have a lovely week.

...

too late for this...

2011-12-09T09:04:00.000Z

....but it does look great...a kind of postal secret santa.

It's called The Curiosity Project. Has anyone ever participated in online swaps?

a good yarn

2011-12-07T14:47:00.000Z

This is what I'm looking forward to after Friday. A little gentle knitting with colourful yarn. I've written the Christmas cards. The presents are in the house (unwrapped) and my lovely sister is cooking Christmas lunch. There is very little for me to do after Friday apart from wrap the presents and arrange the house and its contents in a suitably festive manner - i.e. tidy it up and clean the bits that haven't been touched for, well, a while.

I don't have plans to knit anything specific. I'm simply going to finish a couple of projects I finished a while ago and probably start another couple of things. I plan to spend at least a couple of afternoons by the fire with my needles and yarn on my lap, probably asleep.

My assignment will be finished, my workshops will be finished for 2011. It will be time to sit, reflect and look forward to 2012.

smile, we're British

2011-12-02T15:49:00.000Z

Radio 2 has spent a good portion of its broadcasting time this week telling me that 70% of us are quite happy despite the global economic and political dramas that are unfurling about us. This, apparently, means that we British have lost none of our stiff upper lip or stoicism since the Second World War engulfed us.

Hurrah?

I think (you may think I'm wrong), that in fact we're just burying our dainty little anglo-saxon noggins deep in the soil (we don't have much sand in Wiltshire) and choosing to ignore the state of the planet because, frankly, we just can't cope.

This is why our TV schedules are filled with vacuous reality shows (which I watch) and patronising craft/cookery/DIY shows (which I watch and shout at) and Downton Abbey (which I watch and laugh at) - all of which turn our brains to soppy mush before the news comes on and terrifies us. Sitting down to watch BBC of an evening is becoming a traumatic experience.

We start off quite calmly as long as we avoid the soaps, meandering our way through gentle baking competitions and perhaps a trip around Britain's B&Bs with a bit of bitching along the way and then we're off perhaps to a hospital drama where we know that, eventually, everyone will get seen and won't fall off a waiting list. Then it's 9pm and we're taking a trip to the jungle and watching celebrities eating possum bottoms. If we last till 10pm we have a choice - serious analysis of the day's events with a bit of Robert Peston shouting at us or half an hour of armageddon on ITV with that starey-eyed woman.

I go to bed. It doesn't make me smile.

I don't think I'm happier or unhappier than anyone else. I'm just keeping my niggling doubts and fears to myself. I really don't need George Alagiyah to shake them up just before my head hits the pillow.

Have a good weekend. Turn off the TV.

let the countdown commence

2011-11-27T22:27:00.000Z

Our first 'proper' assignment is due to be handed in at college at 10am on Monday 12th December. Yes, two weeks and a bit away. I'm aiming to have it all done and dusted by 9th - the Friday before so that I can kick back and relax for the Christmas break.

I apologise in advance for stressy, student-type wails about deadlines and art-related dramas if I manage to post anything during the next fortnight. Please forgive me.

I am coping with this deadline through the medium of lists. Lists for everything. I have always made lists but usually I lose or ignore them. This time, I need the lists.

I make a big one every Sunday of where everyone has to be on each day of the week. I have a hand-drawn calendar on the fridge which takes us up to Christmas Day - just in case. I have my paper diary. I have alarms and notes on the computer and my phone. I have shopping lists (daily) and shopping lists (Christmas). I make a list every day based on my big Sunday list. I have a list of all the things I'm not doing now that I'll be able to do after 12th December.

I haven't dared to look and check how much time I actually have to devote to my actual assignment. I suppose, instead of blogging, I could do this and make myself panic slightly more. I am expecting my recurrent college dream to re-surface. The one where I've decided to fo back and get my degree but still *&$^ it up. Oh no, that could be reality in a couple of weeks time.

I am hoping that I will be able to do enough to allow myself not to dwell on the 'what-ifs' over the holidays. We don't get our feedback until mid-January. It's a long wait.

Singalong everybody......"All I want for Christmas is my 2:1, my 2:1, my 2:1."

house!

2011-11-26T09:15:00.001Z

Tonight I am to add another string to my bow - that of bingo caller.

How did this happen?

Well, a few months ago, the idea was mooted of a school bingo fundraiser. One of the pupils' father is a butcher and makes award winning sausages - the evening became 'bingo and bangers' - you can see where we're going with this.

I spent a great many of my childhood holidays with my Nan in and around Blackpool. The major form of entertainment was - you guessed it - bingo. She would sneak me and my sister into the proper bingo halls and give us a card or two to mark but mostly we visited The Rainbow Rooms and the other amusement arcades in the vicinity.

The best one was up on the promenade where for every win you could choose a record token. I remember buying all sorts of singles with my tokens from Cleveley's premier music shop. Each bingo hall had a special booth crammed with all sorts of finery just waiting for some lucky winner to come with enough tokens to bag a gift box of Tweed (25 wins) or packets of Rowntree Fruit Gums (1/2 a win).

You can probably guess that I'm quite excited about being the actual caller with the balls and everything!

I've printed out a list of rhymes - two little ducks, 22 etc but I'm not sure I'll be calm enough to make much of a performance of it. This throwaway idea has turned into a much bigger affair with almost 100 tickets spoken for.

I have a microphone, apparently, but what to wear? I have a Saturday sartorial dilemma on my hands.

things to be thankful for...

2011-11-24T19:25:00.000Z

(Apologies to any North American readers if I have the wrong day).

I am thankful for many things, not least and in no particular order:

the husband

the children

the rest of my family

friends, near and far

our health

enough wealth (see husband)

our home

our history

my sense of humour (although I appreciate no-one else may appreciate it)

willingness to try anything once (except any form of competitive sport - it's too late for that)

willingness to read the first 10 pages of any book and confidence to reject it

ability to fall asleep on a washing line

interest in learning new stuff

***

Not exactly a ground breaking list but a few reminders. My Nan always used to tell me that she said a prayer for everyone every night. I'm not very religious. I don't pray but every so often, it's a good idea to make a list of things to be thankful for. Just for the record.

the rhythm of life

2011-11-20T09:29:00.000Z

I know it's been a while. Believe me, this blog is not the only thing that's languishing unattended at the moment. Don't be alarmed, this isn't a post about being busy. We're all busy. You don't need to know how busy I am. You're probably busy and you've popped off for a bit of blog-browsing for a bit of downtime, not to read a list of things other people need to be doing. I imagine you've got your own list.

Anyway.

I've been thinking about how the years seem to develop their own kind of personal rhythm (now I type it, it looks like a typo), beyond the usual Christmas, Easter, summer holidays routine that's imposed upon us. I started to think about this when I read a 'top tip for surviving Christmas' in one of those interminable lists that magazine editors foist upon us this time of year because all the writers, editors and magazine folk are working on their spring issues and started thinking about Christmas in July.

The 'top tip' was, and I quote 'have Christmas when you want to have Christmas'. I think the list had been made up from readers' suggestions. The blurb underneath the suggestion explained how you could, actually, have Christmas whenever you liked. Now, is this a sign of sanity or complete madness?

In our house, we have 3 birthdays in October and November, with the last one, exactly a month and a week before Christmas day. Every year this results in a great deal of entertainment, joviality, happiness and the accompanying festive panic directly afterwards. I'm aware that others are planning Christmas and have been doing so since the school term started. I think about it and then tell myself that it's OK, I can think about it after E's birthday.

Today is the day after E's birthday. I find myself ahead of the game. I have bought 6 Christmas presents, including one for myself. I feel organised. The alternative would be to have our Christmas in March - I don't think it would be quite the same with a view of daffodils in the garden.

My year goes something like this....

January - make resolutions, don't keep them, sit on the sofa quite a lot

February - think about doing something useful in the garden

March - do something vaguely useful in the garden, look forward to the end of the football season

April - decide to start doing some exercise, wonder what the point of Easter eggs is and wouldn't we all like a proper chocolate bar instead

May - do a bit of exercise, give up after a couple of weeks

June - flop after finishing college for the year

July - wonder what to do with the kids in the summer holidays

August - enjoy not doing very much in the summer holidays (although 2012 will be a pain as I'll have to look as if I'm interested in the Olympics)

September - get excited about going back to college, think about new boots

October - wear new boots when it's still too warm and enjoy the birthday season

November - demand a fire every night, wish I'd done more exercise in the longer days

December - think about getting more organised for Christmas next year

****
On another matter, I heard this great programme about Malmesbury, The Philosophy Town this morning.

pie

2011-11-03T13:16:00.000Z

I'm taking a trip back in time with this pie. It was baked just over a month ago by J, not me. My pies never look quite as magnificent. J is taking home economics for GCSE. I'm learning a lot. I now get instructions on how to wash dishes, grease baking trays and chop onions. All this is delivered in a deep voice which I haven't quite got used to yet.

I have to say I'm feeling a little unsettled at the moment. This time of year is always tricky for me. There are celebrations and sadnesses - good memories and sad memories on almost every day from the beginning of October to the end of November.

I think, also, the changing nature of our own, immediate family is bringing back memories for me and stirring my emotions from pride to panic, anxiety to joy as everyone is getting that little bit older. We're definitely in the thick of family life. We're in the middle between childhood, adulthood and independence. As no-one really tells you the truth about childhbirth, no-one tells you the truth about how to handle the changing relationship with your children as you start to become the background to their own lives and the choices they want to make.

let there by light

2011-11-01T21:30:00.001Z

'Happy Diwali', The Promenade, Blackpool

happy halloween

2011-10-30T13:35:00.000Z

Additive laden, sugary snack anyone?

no-one told me there'd be glitter...

2011-09-27T18:55:00.000+01:00

I was 'on-duty' at our local Guides meeting last night. I couldn't say exactly how many girls are involved but I think they'd all packed their individual megaphones.

It was a lively evening. After the various rituals of patrol line-ups, something called a horseshoe and then another thing to do with unfurling a flag, the girls were involved in working towards a 'go for it' badge. This seems to have involved a great deal of discussion and decision making and a great many recyclable bags full of craft materials, sweets, egg boxes and the dreaded glitter.

I have never met a mother who loved glitter, who has welcomed glitter into her home, who has joined the glitter facebook fanpage, who willingly and without persuasion went to a shop and bought glitter of her own accord. Glitter isn't great unless it's stuck very firmly to a pair of A/W2011 Miu Miu shoes.

Glitter is definitely, in my view, inappropriate for a slightly damp yet humid September Monday evening. It is definitely a scary prospect when it is unaccompanied by layers of broadsheet newspaper.

I admit, I reacted badly.

I was a Guide for about a fortnight in the very late 70s, early 80s. I never had the uniform. All I can remember about it is making a mosaic of a boat from tiny pieces of magazine that I was told off for taking too long to cut out. I was reading the magazine and not focusing on the very important task of magazine mosaic.

This is not to say I have a problem with Guides. I think it's a fantastic organisation and one of the few that encourages girls and young women with positive role models and aspirations. Neither am I immune to the lure of groups and gatherings, hence my new found interest in the WI. I think it's more to do with the fact that I just didn't know what to do when I pitched up last night for my stint of press-ganged volunteering (I know - oxymoron alert). Where is the etiquette manual that outlines the correct behaviour for parent helper at Guides? Please can someone send me the link?

I was asked to supervise. Mmmmmm. Tricky one that when you're not in your own home and supervising your own children or those of very, very close friends. Was I to supervise the task? The behaviour? The clearing up afterwards? Was there some kind of understanding from my temporary charges that I was supposed to be supervising or, as I suspect, was I seen as some kind of random mother who has to be there because she's on the rota. Tricky.

I had to have a nice cup of tea and a couple of slices of toast when I got home alongside the Housewives of New York 'best-ofs' and 'never-seens'. I take my hat off to our Guide leader. We parents are asked to contribute two hours of our lives every 12 weeks or so. That's not a great deal to help our girls have a chance to catch up with friends they don't necessarily see at school and maybe learn some new skills on the way. They'll be off on a couple of trips over the next few weeks too, a chance for them to spread their wings a little and take a few more steps to independence.

Perhaps I should have persevered with the mosaic.

new term

2011-09-20T13:27:00.000+01:00

I've been looking forward to starting the second year of my degree, almost as soon as I drove out of the car park on the last day last term. This, you might think, would have resulted in at least a weekly visit, just to keep my in touch and continue working or studying over the summer.

Oh no.

My recurrent college nightmare may have subsided after twenty years but I still tipped up on my first day back (yesterday) with palpitations over my efforts over the summer.

We were asked to develop a project and, as usual, demonstrate our efforts using sketchbooks. Most of my efforts in this direction involved looking at other peoples' work, other peoples' sketchbooks, other peoples' creative endeavours.

I thought a lot.

I read a lot.

I visited some galleries and made some notes. I read a lot more and I thought a lot more.

The actual episodes of drawing between March and September 2011 were less in evidence.

Going back to college yesterday felt like taking some kind of super-booster, vitamin tonic. My brain is whirring. My pencil is drawing. I've already done my homework and I've discovered the glories of Youtube for research purposes. I've listened to interviews, I've worked around the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. I've had a blast and I've organised my artist files.

I'm happy.

and did those feet.....

2011-09-12T11:13:00.000+01:00

I went to my first WI meeting last week. S & I have been talking about going for a long time. Since 'Calendar Girls' this venerable organisation seems to pop up in the news quite regularly. First there was booing Tony Blair, then there was that mini-series on the Aga lady in the Isle of Wight who seemed to upset a lot of people. Now there are the Shoreditch Sisters, shaking up the WI in a trendy, Hoxton, London-centric kind of way.

I love the idea of the WI for several reasons:
- it's a social gathering with people you might not spend a lot of time with but can learn a lot from
- the talks because I always think you can learn something, even if it's that you never want to hear about woad ever again
- the tea and biscuits because it's always a good idea to throw caution to the wind and let someone else make the selection
- the campaigning nature of the organisation which is often reported on. They're currently on the case with Love your Libraries

Our local WI is small - no more than 30 members, one of which has attended for 70 years, a fact which blew my mind.

The speaker was interesting - she spoke about her work with the container ship crews in Southampton and how there's a whole group of people who support these men who spend months at a time on board only to be tipped out for a few hours on Southampton dock before getting back on the boat and delivering the containers somewhere else. Who knew?

I think I might go again but I have to admit, the actual meeting part of the meeting didn't mean much. I'm interested to go again and see what else happens although, if I'm truly truthful, I felt that little bit more fun could be had. I always expect to have a bit of fun when I leave the house, otherwise I might as well stay under my blanket and carry on watching Housewives of New York.

And on that matter, HONY is my newest TV addiction and, I admit, one of my worst. It's shallow, boring, vacuous and awful but in the best, ever way. I can't stop watching these women and their families. How were they picked? What made them do this? We're only on Series 2 over at ITV2 but I just can't stop watching and I tape it every day on the grounds that if I don't watch it during the day but in the evening, I'm not really watching daytime TV. I do worry, however, that if I'm taping HONY, it's only three small clicks from taping Daybreak or GMTV.

I don't think LuAnn and Jill go to WI in NYC. Now, that would make a good reality show.

that boat has sailed....

2011-09-05T07:55:00.000+01:00

Well, there we are. That was that. The summer is now officially over. No more late mornings. No more pyjama lunches. No more dressing gown trips to let the chickens out. It's go, go, go from now on.

Today is the first time everyone has tried to wash within the same hour period. Needless to say I am still in my pyjamas waiting for the opportunity to have a quick splash before walking E to school. I was hoping to kick start my exercise by taking that walk a little further but there are ominous looking clouds gathering outside and the early morning sunshine has evaporated.

To celebrate the end of the summer holiday, I'm off for a pedicure this morning at a new local salon, Perfection.I like to live in hope. They offer a special Monday deal where if you spend £25 on a treatment you can have an eyebrow shape and lash dye for free. Bargainaroso me thinks.

Tomorrow is haircut day. I have neglected to pop a bottle on my lovely locks over the summer and I'm growing out my layers so am looking a little Wurzel-like and have had to resort to wearing E's hairband to keep said locks out of my face. Very attractive - not.

I've now realised that there are probably only 4 more summer holidays left when both J & E will be at home. How sad is that? Attention must be paid.

yum

2011-09-02T13:39:00.002+01:00

"Millie" by John Willats from the terrace at The Three Gables

Bradford-on-Avon had a distinctly continental air yesterday. I was lucky enough to be invited to visit The Three Gables for lunch and took a trip with my dear friend, S. The review will appear in next month's Wiltshire Magazine but I can say this: beautiful, delicious and welcoming. What more could you want from a restaurant?

Out and about the sun was shining, the town centre was bustling, the market was heaving and the river sparkled. I don't get there as often as I'd like to but Bradford-on-Avon is always worth a day out, full of history and great independent shops. I always find something new there.

As we drove through lovely Wiltshire in its late summer glory, I had an idea. It occured to me that it might be interesting to bring together a gathering of Wiltshire bloggers. I have no idea when, where or how but thought if I posted something here then those of you that read this might get in touch and know others who might be interested too. What do you think?

On another matter - could it be possible that the sun may shine all weekend?

I've found three years..

2011-09-01T08:44:00.000+01:00

I posted about my continual addiction to telly-watching and its potential negative health implications. I worked out (no-one has checked my mathematics by the way), that I've 'lost' in the region of 3 years due to my obsession with the flickering box in the corner.

Science, however, has come up with a solution. It seems that I can add 3 years to my life by exercising 15 minutes per day which I'm sure I must do just walking from the living room to the kitchen to gather tea and sustenance for my next televisual delight. The article is bewildering but the evidence is there in about the fourth paragraph down. Find it here.

In the meantime, E has gone to visit her grown-up cousins and J has gone back to school. G is working away and I'm just about to get ready and do some research before I go here to do a restaurant review.

Yum!

Tracey Emin

2011-08-30T09:53:00.001+01:00

I've been wanting to see TE's show at the Hayward since it opened and somehow the summer holidays got in the way. Our Bank Holiday plans had involved visits from family and friends but these gradually evaporated for one reason and another and we found ourselves with an unoccupied Sunday. Of course, there are thousands of things we could do on a Sunday. Thousands of things that don't involve a 150 mile round trip in a car but I'd spotted my opportunity and The Worker agreed. We would go to London.

We left home at 8am and were parked (for free) by Tate Britain just after 9.30am. We walked up to Westminster Underground, past the Houses of Parliament and Oliver Cromwell and the protest tents. I continued to the Southbank and the Worker, J & E headed to the Science Museum.

London looked lovely but then, to me, it always does. A Sunday morning stroll along the Thames was just perfect. I managed to get into the show early and avoided a lengthy wait beside the beach huts that had been erected as part of the Festival '51 celebrations.

All her statement pieces were there - the quilts, the drawings, the films, the applique, the neons. All constructed with a fierce honesty that I truly admire although I assume there must be some personal editing going on. I can understand why some people declaim her work for the reasons they might not appreciate it - it can look unfinished, grubby, sometimes unpalatable but she's definitely got something to say and whatever we might think of it, we look and our reaction says more about ourselves. Just as some critics seem slightly bored by her work, I am slightly bored by the stock reaction to it. I became intrigued by her later works, her paintings, particularly as she'd burned the paintings she'd made during her studies at the Royal Academy in her twenties.

The worst thing about the show? Some people's decision to bring their toddlers. There is something very peculiar and unsettling about watching a screaming child parked in its buggy next to TE's gynaecologically expressive animation. I found the presence of children unsettling, not just because of some of the content of the work but also because much of the exhibition referenced the artist's childlessness.

I was hoping to link to the Hayward's site but the exhibition is now finished and the link tells me 'I do not have access to this site'. Charming. There's an interesting article by Marina Warner here that you might find interesting.

Emotionally exhausted, I took myself across Waterloo Bridge and up to Trafalgar Square for a quick snoop around the National Portrait Gallery.

I've seen the BP Portrait Award a few times and this year was beyond expectation. Every exhibit was breathtaking in its skill and craft. It was almost intimidating, especially for a middle-aged art student like myself. The short biographies revealed birthdates as late as the 1990s. The care and particularity of some of these works were miraculous.

I haven't been able to rationalise the contrast between Tracey Emin, followed by the Portrait Awards yet. In a bid to get my trip's worth out of my day out, I felt my brain cells creak between the extremes of work I saw that day.

A trip to Cass Art just a stonesthrow from the NPG was next where I bagged some 75% off sketchbooks ready for next term. I now realise I could have had an extra 15% off with my student card but having had 3 months off, I've forgotten that I'm such a thing. Never mind. Bargains were had.

It had started to rain so I trundled to Byron in Haymarket to meet the family where I had a salad (not as good as last time) and they had their usual cheeseburgers and enormous milkshakes. When are they going to open a Byron in Bath I ask?

During our lunch I discovered that the Science Museum was empty and the Natural History Museum was packed with huge queues. I couldn't tell you what delights were on offer at either beyond buttons and knobs and dinosaurs. They hadn't seen a Paperchase, much to E's sorrow and they'd eaten their packed lunch by 11.30am. They looked happy.

Having had a long discussion about the merits of seeing films we could see in Swindon for double the price in Leicester Square, we decided to walk back to the car. Haymarket to Tate Britain. I was about to complete a circular walk! We saw the lions at Leicester Square, the horses at Horseguards parade, the policemen at Downing Street and the protest tents and Oliver Cromwell again.

Off we set, back to our rural idyll. I fell asleep as we passed the cars in high-rises at the bottom of the M4 and woke up at Junction 15 as we passed Wootton Bassett.

We were home by 5.30pm. Seven and a half hours, 2 galleries, 2 museums, 3 burgers, 3 milkshakes, 1 salad, 1 glass red wine, 5 sketchbooks, 6 badges, 3 1/2 miles.

scary thoughts involving mathematics and the X factor

2011-08-27T15:59:00.000+01:00

I heard a few weeks ago that a couple of researchers have discovered that if you watch an hour of television after the age of about twenty five, you lose twenty two minutes off your life. The Guardian ran an article here that explains the whys and wherefores far more accurately and succinctly than I can.

I have, however, taken the opportunity to sit down with a post-it note and a calculator. If you are of a mathematical disposition, please feel free to check my sums. I have checked them myself, twice, but am so stunned by the figures that I wonder if I haven't made a mistake.

Here goes.

I am now 44. That's 19 years of television watching since I was 25.

Before we start, please bear in mind, my variables.

- firstly, I am going to work out days wasted in relation to waking hours (each day as 16 hours of awake time, approximately)
- secondly, I am going to assume that I didn't watch television on holiday (each year is therefore 50 weeks long)
- thirdly, I am going to reduce the adult years I've been watching television by 1.5 as the Worker and I had a lovely trip just before we got married

So.....

It's 19 years less 1.5 travelling years of watching television
TOTAL 17.5 years = 875 weeks (based on a 50 week year) = 6,125 days (wow)

I would estimate, conservatively, that I watch 2 hours of television per day (not including DVDs). This would work out to be 13,250 hours (yikes)

Based on the assumption that every hour loses me 22 minutes, my calculation runs something like this.

13,250 (hours watched) x 22 (minutes lost) = 291,500 minutes (4,858 hours) lost from my life

4,858 divided by 16 hours = 303 working days lost, gone, almost a year - how scary is that.

In addition to the 303 hours I've potentially lost, I've also wasted 828 entire working awake days watching the flickery box in the corner. That's 1,133 days, over 3 years. Gone. And that's a conservative estimate.

I can't bring myself to write about the highs and lows of my televisual viewing. However it's definitely time to 'switch off the television set and go and do something less boring instead'

Are you brave enough to do the telly maths?

things I don't understand....

2011-08-26T11:51:00.000+01:00

global economics

the 'cloud'

why facebook matters

why green beans eaten in France taste so good

why thinking is much easier than doing

how microwaves work

what that funny green stripe down the left hand side of the TV is

why I can hear a funny electrical sounding noise when I go to bed

why dust collects so densely under every piece of furniture in the house

why biscuits taste nicer than bananas

the point of Lee Nelson (I know I'm middle-aged but is he funny?)

why fingernails grow faster than toenails

****

essentials

2011-08-25T09:35:00.001+01:00

school shoes x 2 pairs

school sweatshirts x 2

school polo shirts x 2

school trousers x 1

school skirt x 1

school tights x 3

dentist (this morning)

The holidays are nearly over. J goes back a week today, E goes back on 5th and I go back on 19th although I'll be popping into college once the kids are back to school to the library and to catch up on the summer art magazines. I might need a new pencil sharpener.

I've been feeling deeply guilty every morning as The Worker gets ready for an early start and a drive to sunny Essex or Milton Keynes and I flail about in bed somewhere between dreaming and dozing. He got home at 10pm last night and left at 7am this morning. He seems to be perfectly fine with it but I am finding it tricky to justify my existence when all I seem to achieve during the day is a cursory loo clean or a little perfunctory dusting.

Must. Try. Harder.

there's no place like home...

2011-08-22T15:35:00.000+01:00

We've been home a week. The holiday laundry is done (and ironed - mostly). A courgette cake has been made. School shoes have been bought.

Our days are shorter as E & J seem to have longer and longer lie-ins. I always thought this would be a good thing but it's taking a little bit of getting used to. I do, however, get a few hours each day to work on whatever takes my fancy whether that's writing, crafting or drawing for college.

I've had some disappointing news on the freelance front since we came home which has made me learn not to get too excited when articles are promised and projects are mooted. But, never mind, I'm sure there will be other opportunities coming my way sometime soon. It would be nice to make a little extra cash but I've realised that I do need to focus on getting my degree. Our second year counts towards 25% of the overall marks so I need to prioritise my work there rather than paid work for a while.

Spain always felt a long way away but now it feels a long time ago too. I dug out my winter boots one day last week. There's a definite mist-thing going on in the mornings and the trees are laden with apples and plums. I always love autumn and the shortening of the days but this year it has come a little too soon for my liking. I need a bit more sunshine.

rambling

2011-08-15T15:00:00.000+01:00

This is my 500th post and I'd love to be able to write something awe-inspiring and earth shattering but it's the Monday after a holiday and I'm too busy doing the laundry, fighting the weeds on the allotment and wondering whether I should go back to Slimming World on Wednesday when I know, for sure, that a couple of pounds have crept on over the last two weeks.

I worked out, incidentally, that in 13 days away from home our wee family of four (2 adults, 2 children) consumed in the region of 28 baguettes, invariably stuffed with ham, cheese (and in my case, cornichons). I haven't dared look up the Slimming World Syn value of 28g of baguette. It's best I don't know.

The kids have disappeared for the afternoon. I think three days in the car has cured J of his holiday agrophobia issue. I imagine he is on a Playstation and E is down by the river. Neither are rioting nor looting, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that.

It was alarming to pop to the campsite shop each morning to be confronted with headlines of horror and pictures of scary looking graphs and fires on assorted English streets. It was a relief not to feel compelled to watch the hideousness unfold via the delights of BBC News 24. I only hope that the government can find a way to deal with all the complex issues that seem to have converged in chaos and violence. I'm not convinced they can with their current talk of gangs and evictions. They somehow seem to be missing the point.

There is something terrifying about watching people of your own country damage that country and their communities not necessarily out of political and social protest but out of mindless, pointless greed and some kind of misdirected bravado. The saddest and most worrying part of the whole thing is the complete disconnection that there seems to be between the rioters/looters/participants and their own humanity. I saw little concern or understanding from those interviewd about how their violence would affect other members of their communities and no realisation or apology that the burning and stealing would have an impact on the people whose homes and businesses and families were destroyed or damaged.

As always, after a spot of global drama, I like to contemplate the relevance of blogging. You won't be surprised to hear that I feel it might be time to ditch my domestic pontifications self-obsessed recording of trials and tribulations of a tea-obsessed, forty plus, village-dwelling mother of two. Tapping away in my rural bubble seems trivial to say the least. There are a couple of weeks left of the summer holidays and I'm back at college in a few weeks after that. There are a lot of things going on and this little blog may put itself in the bottom of the warming oven of the Rayburn for a while. We shall see.

On a lighter note and in the meantime, here's what I could have bought when rambling down La Ramblas last Monday.

I didn't buy anything.

stuff

2011-07-29T19:17:00.001+01:00

I am a collector of random, unrelated, inconsequential stuff. My badge collection has been increased five-fold by the lucky acquisition of a bag of 70s classics from the Oxfam shop recently. I'll take another photo one day.

I have several burgeoning collections which include:

orange vases (5)

soup bowls with handles (various)

tea sets for the day I have a lovely shed or caravan in the garden

yarn (obvious)

5 perfect Nat West Wade pigs (thanks Nan)

fabric (see below)

I also have collections of items that belonged to other people but have found their way to me. These include embroidery threads, sewing boxes, stamps, coins and photographs.

I saw Edmund de Waal talk about his fascinating book 'The Hare with Amber Eyes' last week. I've just started the book and I can see that I have similar feelings about collections and objects although I recognise that the things I call mine spring from a different source, from ordinariness and day to dayness. He talks of how passing on collections and objects creates a story.

Sometimes I dream of clutter-free living but I know that I would find it impossible. I hear that we should simplify, rationalise and clear our surfaces and I see evidence of clean lines and white walls in almost every interiors magazine I come across. I try sometimes to make a clean sweep and clear away unnecessary distractions but I like them and I like them in teetering, towering piles.

things gone by...

2011-07-27T15:02:00.000+01:00

***

suitcases without wheels

***

travellers' cheques

***

handwritten correspondence between friends

***

photo albums

***

video cassettes

***

fish and chips in newspaper

***

proper, printed tickets

***

50p cups of coffee

***

library tickets

***

school ties (almost)

*****

simply divine inspiration

2011-07-26T13:12:00.001+01:00

I went to Port Eliot Literary Festival at the weekend. It was my fourth time and third time with my friend K who's sister K lives in St. Germans. It was my first time travelling on the train and first time in a B&B instead of a field. We had a fantastic time and a fantastic time in so many ways - every moment was quite unlike the last.

I saw Christopher Biggins (panto man), Tim Smit (Eden man), Dan Pearson (garden man), Louise Wilson (fashion MA woman), Nicky Haslam (dandy man), Emma Kennedy (hilarious woman), Patrick Barkham (butterfly man) and Edmund de Waal (favourite ceramicist and writer man) speak about their work and their books. There were more but I can't make any more links.

I saw Bellowhead, Louis Eliot and The Secret Sisters play. I missed British Sea Power (again) but sat at breakfast with my favourite band's lead singer's little brother. I didn't tell him I've been smitten by Starsailor for years. Too embarassing over the fried eggs.

I made an attempt at raving along to Jeremy Healy's set and stood mesmerised while Annie Nightingale mixed hers. Her set was fantastic but she did, I'm afraid, look as if she couldn't master the knobs on an electric hob.

I knitted a sock with dovegreyreader and her agreeable friends for hours on Sunday (two late nights had taken their toll).

I ate delicious food and drank (mostly) delicious wine.

I sat and stared and listened and thought and dreamt and plotted and schemed.

It's amazing how you can feel refreshed after less than 10 hours sleep in 72.

harry potter and the mother of all movie marathons

2011-07-18T20:56:00.000+01:00

I hate to think how many hours my offspring will spend this week revisiting HP and chums. They are not amongst the first of the first cinema-goers to see the last film and I hope that their enjoyment isn't spoiled by detailed, overheard discussions of plots and endings. They are, however, watching every single film, in order, to prepare themselves for their visit to Shaw Ridge this weekend.

It really is the end of an era and we will look back on the years we have lived with the books and the films quite fondly. The Worker read all of them to J and, I think, some of them to E who is a little younger and more intersested in Lemony Snicket and Jacqueline (ho, hum, life is only interesting if it's depressing) Wilson. I read the first one and then no more - there are too many books for me to read about other characters.

We have all seen most of the films at the cinema although I have seen fewer and less of them than the rest of my family as I tend to fall asleep after the first twenty minutes and then wake up when the celebration dinner is in full swing five minutes before the end. No-one minds. I hope.

I am happy that I have given my children the gift of an appreciation of film. I think it's very important to be able to sit in a cinema or on the sofa for at least two hours and be immersed in a story to the exclusion of the outside world and I thoroughly enjoy any opportunity we have as a family to sit with a bar of Fruit & Nut, beverages hot and cold and something resembling a movie to watch.

We've discovered the joys of Lovefilm too, and recordable telly. As they stay up later and later, I need an alternative to Top Gear and cookery shows.

the tart, the brownie, the scone and the secret cheese nibbling

2011-07-06T14:01:00.000+01:00

These are the things that have scuppered my weight loss attempts this week. They didn't do it by themselves. I helped them by deciding to consume them. I hang my head in slimming group shame. No loss this week. Our group lost 53lbs between them over the last seven days and not one of those lbs belonged to me. Hey ho. I thought I was doing quite well but apparently not.

I've had a lovely time though. The tart (lemon) and the brownie (chocolate) were made by J and E, respectively. I couldn't possibly refuse a piece of each (both on Sunday, the first with custard). It would have been maternally cruel to say no. How can anyone resist anything cooked by their offspring?

We'd also had a school-made sausage casserole during the week and very tasty it was too after I'd fished out the anaemic looking sausages and browned them under the grill before putting them back in the yummy sauce and underneath the cheesy scone-y topping (conveniently omitted from my food diary). Would anyone else casserole sausages without grilling/browning them beforehand? I'm sure they were cooked through, they just didn't look it.

Having been at this slimming group lark for a few weeks there are a few things that I understand more fully:

- writing a food diary can be a delight of fiction

- having a bath before a weigh-in can add pounds

- Tilda ping rice is one of the greatest inventions known to dieting women (although not this week for me)

- quark is not the strangulated call of a mallard duck

- you can still put on weight if you eat standing up

- peanuts are the creation of demons

- wine should only be consumed when food is far away, otherwise weight loss armageddon is unleashed

- some very small people want to lose weight

- I do feel much better having ditched my cheese on toast followed by kitkat lunch habit

No more weight loss posts for a while. Rest assured. Time for a cup of coffee and a Mullerlight yoghurt.

when I'm not blogging....

2011-06-28T09:27:00.000+01:00

I'm having far too much of a good time. Since my last blog I have several entertainments to confess:

- a night of Simple Minds at Westonbirt Arboretum (slightly damp but very entertaining - the audience was a certain age - middle yet slightly infantile and prepared to dance with gay abandon)

- a visit to the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy (hot, airless but very entertaining - the gallery goers were a fascinatingly mixed bunch from the fedora-ed to the hoody-ed)

- a night in Hyde Park with Kings of Leon and Paul Weller (great gig - shame about the audience although that might just be my middle age talking. When did grown women start taking their shirts off whilst sat on wobbly boyfriends' shoulders? Did we always throw beer (or worse - yuck) and how much warm Jaegermeister does it take for men to start fighting - not a lot it seems). Thank God for KoL

- did a bit of armchair Glasto with friends, had the annual discussion about buying a van and going next year (ha, ha, it's not on!), accompanied by my ever-growing projectforty reasons for NOT going EVER:

the sound is better via satellite

you can make a cup of tea whilst you're waiting for the headliners

there's no one throwing beer

you don't have to walk to the back of a crowd of people and watch a screen, you can just watch a screen under a blanket with a nice glass of merlot

tent erecting is not required

the beer is cooler at home

you can watch it with people you like

you don't have to engage in banter with fellow festival goers

you don't get welly-rub (or trench foot, or sunburn)

you can see the dancing better (I'm having a Beyonce moment)

I know this list makes me sound ever-so-slightly curmudgeonly but I don't care. I think anyone over 40 should really think about whether they want to put themselves through the grief and trauma of potential long-term neck twisting. I'd rather have a nice city-break to Morocco or a weekend at a spa. I may have the odd timewarp moment and think I can trip off to this gig and that but the time has come - I know my limits.

guilty secret...

2011-06-16T15:02:00.000+01:00

...in between buying wellies, discovering how many syns are in a Costa Coffee stem ginger biscuit (I'm still in denial) and promoting my upcoming craft workshops, I caught half an hour of 'The Holiday' on Channel 4. I had a feeling I'd seen it before - Cary Grant, Kathryn Hepburn and another fine-boned lady starred.

The bit I saw featured Grant talking about taking a kind of retirement or sabbatical while he was young so he could understand what it was he was working for. I liked that idea and, having thought about it for oooh, about an hour, I think I might be doing something similar.

I have worked on and off since I was thirteen - Saturday jobs, part-time jobs, full-time jobs but always (until recently) simply to pay the bills and enjoy what was left of my free time. I've always liked most of the people I've worked with and enjoyed the environment or office that I found myself but it's safe to say I've never really had the experience of waking up and looking forward to going to work.

I hadn't really thought about it much before today but what I've finally arrived at is a point where I think I might, one day, have a career. My degree (hopefully) will give me the credibility to have a grown up job (which will be nice when I'm pushing 50) and I think I'm going to need it with tuition fees, car insurance and teenager-dom rearing their expensive little heads at our family.

Let's hope I enjoy it.

PS: Half a stone down.

fete accompli

2011-06-10T13:36:00.000+01:00

Every year on the 2nd Friday evening in June, members of the parish and environs gather for our village fete. It is always a wonderful occasion and I'm looking forward to seeing people I haven't caught up with during what's been a pretty busy year.

I've also been promoted from White Elephant to Trinkets which has made me very happy, not least because T, who usually runs trinkets, appears to have collected everything I need and all I have to do is set it up and hope the weather stays nice enough to make everything sparkly, sparklier.

I'm going to take my umbrella so then it won't rain but I think warm shoes and a folding chair will be needed. Even if the rain stays away, the evening isn't promising to be balmy (or barmy, I should add!).

Updates (and maybe sunny photos) shortly.

where'd you rather....

2011-06-07T14:53:00.000+01:00

My view last week. You may have gathered that I've become a bit of a 'conyurt' (ha ha!). I wish I'd taken more pictures. Today I'm looking out on a damp, rainy lane, trying not to wish I was back at last Tuesday when we were all on holiday, looking forward to a few days of sunshine.

I've tried to be a good homebody today - I walked the walk this morning, lifted the weights that I hope will stave off wings of the bingo variety, I ate my very healthy lentil and sweet potato soup and dusted the living room - that took longer than I thought. I wrote a few things, tore beautiful and interesting bits and pieces from my magazine stash (now recycling) and generally did pottery, domestic things.

Tomorrow I'm back to college to discuss a couple of books and I realise as I'm writing, I've misplaced the actual assignment. It's also the degree show private view tomorrow night which I'm looking forward to. The fine art students finishing this year are the ones I started my access course with all those years ago. I'm interested to see how their work has developed and what they're working on now. I imagine there's quite a lot of nervous energy both positive and not so positive flying around. Somehow I wish I was part of it this year.

I've been listening to artists' Desert Island Discs recently. Today was Rachel Whiteread and Sam Taylor-Wood. Last week I downloaded Grayson Perry's collection. You can search the archive by profession which I find very interesting. RW and STW both chose Nick Cave. They're also running a 'choose your own' DID project which I keep reminding myself to do.

My initial 'top of my head' list, looks like this:

In the Ghetto - Elvis Presley
Forever in Blue Jeans - Neil Diamond
Mad about the Boy - Ella Fitzgerald or is it Etta James?
Say a little Prayer - Aretha Franklin
Under Pressure - David Bowie
Something by Faithless
There's a track by Primal Scream on the Trainspotting album whose name I can't remember without looking up
Star Guitar - Chemical Brothers
Use it up and Wear it Out - Odyssey
Ain't no mountain high enough - Diana Ross
Miss Sarajevo - US/Pavarotti
Driving on 9 - The Breeders
Something by Nirvana

Apologies for the randomness. I'm not nearly high-falutin-enough. I need to work on it further. Perhaps you'd like to do yours too? That's what rainy days are made for, surely?

branching out

2011-06-06T17:59:00.000+01:00

This tree reminds me of my head and the thoughts within it. Two distinct themes sprout in opposite directions (i.e. chores v. enjoyment) with ever-numerous branches of ideas and activity sprouting in a variety of different directions but with a dense clod of tanglement at the top. I am forever following a certain path or making a particular choice only to become either distracted or somehow prevented from following it through. These inevitable barriers can be self-constructed or somehow just pop up out of nowhere.

I don't say this in a 'woe-is-me' kind of way, it's just the way I find things to be. I often feel as if I'm circumnavigating icebergs or obstacles. If I decide to do one thing, then something else pops up either to distract me or prevent it from being an uncomplicated issue. I find myself, post-forty, being quite the dab-hand at compromise and flexibility. I like to think that all these mini-challenges make for a more interesting day to day life. I try not to resent the diversions, I like to think of ways to either embrace them or manoeuvre around them.

You can probably tell that I've now got too much time on my hands. Pontification seems to be the order of the day. College has finished. I'm working but not as much as I'd like/need to and all the jobs that I should be doing aren't nearly as interesting as having a bit of a ponder. I should, of course, be houseworking, gardening, allotmenting, cleaning bits of the house that aren't normally investigated. I'd rather, of course, be writing and drawing and visiting wonderful places of inspiration.

Decisions, decisions.

what's occuring?

2011-06-05T12:17:00.000+01:00

I've got a touch of blogitis. I think it might be a seasonal thing. Like hayfever.

Nevertheless, here I am, keystrokes at the ready, not really knowing what to write about beyond listing what I/we have been up to in the last fortnight.

I finished my assessments and find myself quite pleased. I'm now confident that I've chosen the right degree (unlike the first time) which reassures me that I'll be able to complete my course (unlike the first time). I'm a little bit worried that the summer break will make me feel as if I'm starting again in September but I've decided to enter a couple of competitions and draw something every day (as recommended by all our tutors last September).

Despite my (mis-placed) horror of slimming clubs, I've signed up here. I'm on my second week and about 4lbs down. I decided that finishing college would leave me some free time that I could use to focus on getting a little healthier and a little lighter. If I'm being really honest, I just want to look better - pure vanity. There is still a little part of me though that rails against the pressure to be thinner - why should we conform, why should we be judged and judge each other that way? I suppose there always has been a part of me that thinks that and that's why I've always got slightly bigger! So, we'll see. I'm going to go along until the summer holidays and see how I do.

I did a little of this to help with the above and, as always, enjoyed it thoroughly. I've never been part of a global fitness phenomenon before and it amazes me that Zumba has reached our tiny village halls. I don't know why but there's something very enjoyable about doing a little mambo at 9.30am in deepest Wiltshire.

We went here and stayed in this:

It was fantastic. We were given a great welcome by Thea, Laurie and their lovely children, with a basket of produce and a tour of the facilities. With only five yurts on the site, we felt the to-dos and lists of home, work and school just disappear. Solar power, composting loos (much better than you'd think) and running water were all we needed. We were also provided with an intriguing outdoor fridge which worked amazingly without electricity. I think it uses some kind of evaporation science and was originally developed in hot countries to keep food cold. The nearest description I could find online was this. Ours was encased in a crate with a wooden door and mint planted on the top - very lovely!

While we were there we visited New Quay and saw some of these:

I was amazed to see dolphins off the UK coast. Thankfully, the worker ran back to the car park to get the camera. We had fish and chips afterwards and a sunny afternoon back at the yurt.

We left quite early on Friday to get to the beach at Penbryn which was beautiful. We made our way home via here. I had a lovely time!

ups and downs

2011-05-16T17:35:00.000+01:00

The up is - I've been awarded a blog award by Amanda at eight by six.

I think it's called a Liebster and, obviously, I would copy the logo but Blogger doesn't seem to be very helpful these days. It's an award for blogs with less than 100 followers. After nearly 500 posts, I'm up to 42 followers! I'm not built for speed - on so many levels.

So, thank you Amanda. I shall pass this award to:

Lou at The Archers at the Larches who is at 96 whole followers
Sue at The G-Spot on 28
Hausfra at Hausfrau who has amassed 12 followers in the short time she has been blogging

Like Amanda, these bloggers are interested in all or some of the same things I'm interested in. It's blog awards for the girls here, no manly nonsense in this corner of the blogosphere.

So, what's been happening?

I went to Paris. A week ago today. I had a fantastic time between 8pm on Monday and about 2pm on Thursday. Then I discovered my camera had gone missing/been pinched (the down). Not a great end to the trip, particularly as I had to make a mad dash with my suitcase and extra purchase bag back to where the incident occured and then up to Gare du Nord, arriving the colour of Kapoor's Leviathan at the Grand Palais - deep red/purple.

I was hoping for a more sophisticated journey home, a little light sketchbooking and some proper coffee from Pret a Manger on the coach home. Not to worry. At least it wasn't my purse or my phone that found themselves adrift in Paris. That would have been much, much worse.

I walked miles - 22,546 steps on Tuesday according to K's ipod nano. It was great to be in Paris in Spring. I've been once before in high summer and then the other times have been in the autumn/winter. I still want to live there someday. Not forever. Perhaps for a year. How this little plan might be achieved I have no idea. It might have to wait on the backburner for a very long time.

This is the view from upstairs at Chartieres - a very traditional Parisian restaurant, touristy but authentic and with much-improved steak from the piece I had last time I came with college. I treated K&I to snails - I had to - I couldn't resist. It was fascinating to be in a city I love so much with someone who's the same age as I was when I first visited. They were pretty delicious too.

So, in total, I have about 15 photographs and 2 movie clips on my phone. The sum total of my collection. Fortunately, I picked up reference material and made some notes along the way. I'm now busy collating sketchbooks and projects for our final assessments this week.

If you happen to be going to Paris before 23 June, see Leviathan, Anish Kapoor's Monumenta installation at the Grand Palais. I promise you won't be disappointed. Here's my first blog video clip:

This takes an awfully long time. Should it? Perhaps I should do something clever with Youtube instead? One of the things on my summer list is to explore a few of my technology blackspots - video being one, photoshop being another. This is definitely taking a long time. I can't leave though. Blogger is instructing me to wait. I must listen.

Well, on another matter....I saw a Chagall exhibition here which was stunning. One of the most beautifully put together shows I've seen....ever. It contains a set of illustrations for the Bible, for which Chagall was commissioned. I've seen Chagall paintings before but the prints were breathtaking in their consistency and simplicity. S brought me an article about an auction of Chagall drawings made after the death of his wife. If I had £600K knocking about, perhaps I'd make a bid.

Ah....the clip seems to have found its way to the post. Good luck with viewing it. I hope it works!

Have a good week.

as Toyah Wilcox sang...

2011-05-08T20:56:00.000+01:00

...it's a mystery, it's a mystery, etc, etc....

I thought I'd have a little look at my stats before I go away for a couple of days. I do this every so often, just to marvel at how the internet works things out. I find, however, that since organising my recent car insurance quote, I'm now being visited by some weird insurance website and some other web-based wotnot I don't recognise.

Is this some kind of spam? I wish I knew. In fact, I wish I hadn't looked so I don't have to have thoughts about it in my head.

On another, infinitely more exciting, matter. I'm off to Paris for a few days with college. I've probably told you already as I've told everyone who crosses my path and forgets to keep moving. I love Paris. I love Paris more than London. I love the Eurostar and I love a trip.

On another, quite exciting and more agricultural matter, the allotment had a bit of attention today. I amused myself by listening to Kanye's 'Golddigga' whilst digging - I know it's very inappropriate music for a lady of my age and location but I couldn't help myself and it made me laugh for a very long time. Some of us have got to get our fun where we can find it you know....

Have a good week - au revoir pour maintenant!

that was the weekend that was.....

2011-05-02T16:58:00.000+01:00

I'm struggling to know where to begin.

Here are the aunt-related happenings I shall cherish from our fun-packed Royal Wedding weekend:

- my aunts arriving just in time to finalise their entry into the great cake competition at my daughter's primary school

- running across the allotment with decorated cakes and a mini-bride and groom and arriving just before the judging

- one aunt having to stay behind to be interviewed on South African radio about her visit to England and the mood of the country

- aunts winning said cake competition and wearing their fascinators whilst accepting the prize

- the ladies of the house drawing their prediction of the wedding dress the night before (congratulations, J)

- one aunt sporting a replica of THE engagement ring

- aunts wearing wedding attire for the duration of the wedding on the telly

- our matching sparkly-crown t-shirts (a triumph!)

- one aunt taking photographs of the telly to 'prove' she was there

- same aunt throwing confetti when the newly weds emerged from the church

- visiting our local pub and the only street party in the village and having a bottle of babycham between us

- taking in a Saturday morning tour of Wiltshire taking photographs of cow parsley, gates, fields, hedges, the bollards outside Highgrove, flags, lilac, bluebells, horse chestnuts, laburnum, viburnum, window displays, Tetbury, hedgerows, postboxes, fingerpost signs

- making a new draught excluder from my new Royal Wedding fabric (thank you, S)

- making cupcakes today with E as it's obviously genetic

I miss them already and I'm quite sure it would have passed us all by almost un-noticed otherwise. Come back soon!

what's that about global warming?

2011-04-26T10:15:00.000+01:00

Hasn't it been marvellous! Sun every day in the Easter holidays. I can't remember one like it. It usuallly pours and I look out of my kitchen window on the sorry looking allotment wondering about doing some weeding. This year, there are onions and gladiolis and parsnips and potatoes and weeds (of course) but no rain sodden nettles or puddles on the path. It looks like July but with a slight nip in the air.

Here are two of my favourite people on Charmouth beach. We were there for just a couple of hours (apologies to Mrs P - I'm pretty sure you were away, now I know I can get there, we'll be coming again!) When we arrived there were six cars in the car park, when we left, there was a queue to get in. I wouldn't say it was the most beautiful beach but it was the nearest and two hours by the sea left me wide awake and fulll of summer spirit.

I want to live by the sea sometime soon. Not necessarily all the time. I can't be doing with the upheaval but I would really like a little place by a beach, even a town beach. What I would like most of all is a month by a beach. The Worker and I went travelling a long time ago and one of my favourite bits was the month by the beach that I'd exchanged for two weeks of trekking in Nepal - lots of lying down in exchange for too much yomping about. Bliss. I think it might have to be a sandy beach although pebbles appeal as they're quite clean and I can convince myself I'm having a hot stone massage at the same time. I'm easily pleased.

However, as funds are limited being a student and all that, I think my seaside retreat will have to wait, at least in reality. There may be a little online time wasting around the north Devon coast a little later today when I should be on the laptop making some cash not spending it in in an imaginary manner.

***

Well, from all accounts Catherine the Slim has done a lot better on the wedding diet front than myself. I have lost precisely 1lb since I challenged myself to get in to my wedding suitt. I am delighted to announce however, that I can get the jacket and shoes on. I can also get the skirt on, I just can't do it up. This means that I have a 66% success rate, which in many examinations rates as an 'A' - as you can imagine, I'm thrilled.

I have also been inspired by an article in the Sunday Times Style magazine announcing that curves are cool. Hurrah! I suspect, unfortunately, that this article is in the same vein as those that suggest military fashion is cool - every year, around March. Never mind - I take some comfort in my temporary coolness. Finally - I'm in fashion.

***

Did you make bunting this weekend? I had a lovely time and have strung some festively across the front of the house. We are now a three string bunting house - two from Poundland (new favourite shopping - great doilies) and one from my very own sewing machine. Roll on Friday....

third time lucky....

2011-04-18T19:20:00.000+01:00

...this is the third time I've tried to post today. Hurrah - I finally made it!

What have we been doing? It's the Easter holidays you know - too cold for sunbathing, too warm for knitting (already!), too chilly for picnics. This is the not quite right school holidays. Easter is inbetweeny, not quite long enough holidays. not quite sunny enough holidays.

This holiday, I have stuck to my guns about one day in, one day out. The day out might not be very exciting and there have been complaints but J has spent a lot less time in his pyjamas which can only be a GOOD thing. February half term was a fug of hot tea, toast and slippers. I can't live like that for a fortnight. There are things to be done and places to go. There are days out to be had and by gum, we're going to enjoy them.

Last week we had some firsts:
- we had a snack in Greggs (you should have seen the size of the buns), now entitled 'E's favourite new shop'
- we visited Marlborough's Rabley Drawing Centre to see this which was great and required the wearing of white cotton gloves
- we took a trip to Avebury and bought a crystal each for a £1

Cake, culture and crystals. Not a combination you experience every week. We like to find entertainment in the simplest of things - obviously!

E & I had a weekend with 'the girls'. Lots of shopping, a walk along the Thames, a most delicious burger from a place called Byron and a girls' night in watching Britain's Got Talent. We took the train which was very relaxing and easy peasy. A proper weekend away. The boys played football, watched football, talked about football and ate curry and breakfast.

I am hoping to get to the Sculpture Trail here but time is already filtering through our fingers. Tomorrow we're out and about on another first - we holidaymakers are having our eyes tested (again - simple pleasures). The last time I had mine looked at was, I think, when I was pregnant and it was free. The optician informed me that I could have glasses 'if I liked'. I didn't.

E has seen a nice purple pair she fancies and J doesn't understand why we need to go. The reason, I'm afraid is guilt. The last time I took J to the doctor's because of a persistent headache, the doctor informed me that I should have had J&E's eyes tested every year since starting school. It hadn't even occurred to me and I'm very obedient on the health front - always in the queue for vaccines or whatnots. So, whoops, we should have gone to Specsavers so we're going - I hope Greggs is shut.

2011-04-12T11:08:00.000+01:00

I love Paddington station - the smell, the noise, the sound of wheelie suitcases, the screech of the whistles and the general mutterings of all those arriving and departing.

The heat had already proved too much for some.

My first stop? The Nancy Spero exhibition at The Serpentine.

Something lovely on the stroll there.

It was difficult to contemplate Spero's dark, haunting work when confronted with Hyde Park and London at their glorious, spring best. I should have gone in February. I went because of a review I'd seen lying around at college - feminist, anti-war, philosopher, text were the words that inspired my trip. The work was full of angst and repeated images. I'm no art critic, however. I can't describe the exhibition beyond those terms - ask me next year, maybe, when I'm steeped in art lingo.

Spero wasn't the main attraction though, I'd booked a ticket to see Julie Mehretu speak about her work at the British Museum. I've been writing about her in my first year essay so was intrigued to hear her description of her work and how it feels to be included in the latest drawing exhibition at the Museum. She was very engaging and very open about how she works and what her process is and how it has developed. She is feted as a global artist - not only because of her own personal background but in terms of her visual imagery and use of architectural drawings and marks.

Apart from speakers who come to college, it was the first artists' talk I'd ever attended. I think I'll go to more. It made me think about whether it is important to be based in London - especially as one of the main themes of the discussion was about the move from rural to urban settings that has meant more people now live in cities than in the countryside across the world.

After the talk it was time to get Paddington and the bonus of some glorious music played by these people.

can't stop now....

2011-04-08T10:39:00.000+01:00

...am swapping fields for pavements and I'm taking my camera.

I've finished this term's college work and, at this stage of events, have a whole month stretching before me. Am going to use my train journey to plan the weeks ahead.

Enjoy the sunshine! Don't forget your sunscreen.

try something new every day....

2011-04-01T16:31:00.000+01:00

...whilst Mrs No-Knickers was rambling through clay (see yesterday's post), I decided to give painting a try. I can't say whether it went well or not, having never painted with a brush before. I have, of course, dropped watercolour onto wet paper to behold the burst of colour that ensues and I did have a go scraping acrylic with an old credit card, just to see what happened, about four years ago.

One thing I have learnt this year is that most of an art degree is about showing the process of decision making involved in almost everything I do. It's a bit of a leap. I'm not allowed to say I 'like', 'enjoy' or 'dislike' something without following that word with a long explanation or argument for that decision or choice. That something can be another artist's work, it can be the media I choose to draw in, it could be the point of view expressed by an art critic. Everything is up for discussion.

This is how a previously rational person starts to draw suitcases and continues to draw suitcases for nearly four months of her life. And then, inexplicably picks up a paintbrush and tries to paint suitcases - so far, for three weeks of her life.

Now, you might look at this (as I do) and say, oooh, there's a WIP, there's a bit of an attempt at suitcase painting. Well, you're mistaken. This is a collection of marks, describing distortions of shape and line, inspired by a blurred photograph of a selection of suitcases. There you go....something new every day.

bad hair day?

2011-03-31T22:31:00.000+01:00

Looks like this young lady has had a bad day in the studio. Trousers, lost in the search for artistic integrity. Hey ho. Tomorrow's another day.

on reading

2011-03-30T09:29:00.000+01:00

I love to read. I'll read magazines, leaflets, even magazines that don't belong to me and could be about anything, for example, barges or chartered surveying. I'll read other people's newspapers over their shoulders if the opportunity arises and I love a good poke around in someone else's bookshelves. I belong to a book group (more later) and one of the main reasons I decided to do a degree was the reading opportunities it offered in the very good library at Swindon College (I know, you didn't know it was there, either).

What I'm not very good at is reading things that don't interest me straight away. I'm a skimmer, a picker-outer, a nugget seeker. I can happily read an article on the bio-whatsits of frog faeces if I'm engaged with the writing and think I might be learning something. However, give me a book that has a boring blurb or a first page that either dulls my senses or (at the other extreme) is too complicated and high-falutin' for my particular brain cells and I won't read it.

Libraries were made for people like me. I have trained myself to use the library for potential books, especially where book group goes. Our book group takes it in turns to choose a book for each session, we all read it and then discuss it when we've stopped talking about everything else in our respective lives. We've discovered some real gems along the way and everyone takes care to choose something they think the group might enjoy or that they want to share. Most people are very loyal and read the entire books. I have become non-compliant and, if any of them read this, which I know maybe one or two do, I fear that one day there will be a book club cull and I will have to answer for my actions.

My problem? I truly believe that life is too short to read a book that I don't enjoy/doesn't inspire me/doesn't teach me anything and I'm not prepared to invest time that I could be using to read a book that does tick all my boxes to gamble on a book that might or might not beyond page 10 or 12. Is that a terrible confession? Should I add this to my list of failings? Please forgive me oh patron saint of book reading, I cannot read a book just because one of my friends has recommended it? Should I concentrate on doing the right thing and reading the book my friend recommends just because they're my friend? I contemplate this question every few weeks, about 24 hours before book group when I have to admit to myself that I've ignored the proposed book for something else I've chosen.

This year's book group reading so far has been scuppered by Jonathan Franzen. I received 'Freedom' for Christmas and then immediately bought 'The Corrections', his previous novel to go on to. I've loved them both. Love his language, love the dysfunctionality in it all. Love his point of view on most of what he writes about. I only read before I go to sleep so I can't read more than one novel at a time. That would be too confusing and have unpredictable effects on my dream patterns. I have about 50 pages of 'The Corrections' to go and our next book group book 'A Fraction of the Whole' on order at the library. I'm going to have to time it right and make sure I have AFOTW right there when I finish Franzen, otherwise I'll be on to Rohinton Mistry's 'A Fine Balance' before you can say 'you shouldn't judge a book by its cover'.

spring has sprung...

2011-03-28T12:21:00.000+01:00

It takes me a while to wake up after winter. This year has been a little different. I seem to have perked up a little earlier than usual although, thinking about it, Easter is later than usual. That might be why I'm feeling a little more with it than I usually do by the end of March.

Most of the excitements in our house happen around autumn (birthdays) and winter (Christmas). I'm often berated for looking forward to the nights drawing in and the fire going on. I love the cosiness of winter and the home-centred-ness of it all.

Spring and summer, on the other-hand, give me a mild sense of panic. There are so many things that need to get going and be done from the garden to the housework to the summer wardrobe. I often feel quite overwhelmed by this time of year.

I never have any suitable shoes to wear having lived in boots since September 1st, every window in the house needs a thorough cleanse, tone and moisturise, the garden threatens to burst into life at any moment and then there's the allotment - a time gobbling monster all on its own. The kids seem to need something new of everything and there's nothing worth watching on telly because the BBC thinks we're all growing our own and enjoying cider out on the patio.

I like spring but, if I'm honest, I'm over all the sun and warmth by the time the the bluebells have arrived and gone. For me summer just creates tricky sartorial and heat-related issues. I'm always hot, full of hayfever and wondering whether to undergo pedicure boot-camp. I'm a shade lover, not a sun worshipper, not least because as soon as I expose my lily-white, woollyback skin to that orange globe in the sky, I develop what the Worker lovingly (?) calls my doley tan or, rather stripes. I get brown arms, slightly milky legs, deeply bronzed chest and a slightly pinker face. I look like a battenburg cake that's been left in the cake tin to go a little flaky. Summer sun is not my friend.

Yes, I know, there's sunblock and I'm a big fan but no matter where I put it or how much I put on, there's always a stripe developing somewhere. Stripes do not help on the sartorial level either. Little strappy top? Inadvisable pour moi at the best of times, any time from Whitsun half term and it looks as if I'm wearing two. Not a good look.

So, this week I am looking for a panama hat, palazoo pants and a kaftan. The new season of fitflops is also available, I see. Roll on summer!

the plot thickens

2011-03-21T13:54:00.000Z

You may have noticed I've had a little spring clean on the blog, just to wipe away some older links and add a couple of new ones.

Last year I had a blog about the allotment I share with my neighbour, H. It somehow got left by the internet wayside although I really enjoyed writing about our wranges with weeds and pigeons and dog *&^%. I've finally faced up to the fact that more than one blog is beyond my time management capabilities although I still keep my craft blog together so that I can find all my favourite knitting links in one place. A selfish use of the interblog ether but...well...what can I say...until they start charging for it, I'm there.

I hope you won't mind but there will be an occasional horticultural post here. Please feel free to pass quietly by. I won't mind. Having had my little global wobble last week, I spent the weekend sowing seeds, digging up nettles and plotting the plot. The sunshine added its little extra magic and I slumped into bed last night with a sense of achievement, however small. The allotment is right outside my kitchen window so, with a little effort now, I get to see the results from a few feet away. It's all very pleasing. My horticutural posts in June, however, are likely to be a little crosser as the weeds will be in full sway and the pigeons will have eaten the tops of my sprouts but, for the moment, I can spend a few minutes admiring the freshly dug earth and hoping for the best.

My Royal Wedding Waistline Plan is not going as well as I'd hoped. There would be many more posts about losing the pounds and doing the zipper on my wedding skirt up a little further each week. No matter, I've still got about six weeks. I can always put the skirt over my head and wear it as a snood.

best foot forward?

2011-03-17T12:13:00.000Z

I have to say this blogging lark is feeling a little superfluous at the moment. Not least because I'm having a little private panic about global calamaties. As a teenager, I was most disturbed on a weekly basis by Panorama and scenes of impending nuclear destruction, civil wars and famine. Recent events have somehow re-ignited these feelings. I feel self-centred and nonsensical blathering on about not very much when what I really want to do is concentrate on keeping our little bubble as protected and safe as it can be and appreciating our daily life in all its drama-less glory.

I'm not a person who prays - perhaps that would help - but my usual domestically-centric thoughts are flinging themselves to places and events around the world and I feel useless that I can't begin to comprehend the daily horrors that other people are facing or help or support them beyond texting my donation (usual message charges applying, of course).

The rational tactic is to "keep calm and carry on" and that wartime slogan seems more appropriate as every day passes. Moaning and complaining about day to day life just seems wrong and selfish. Writing about my random thoughts and sharing minutiae feels uncomfortable when images of destruction, natural or man-made are beamed to our laptops and TV minute-by-minute. I don't feel the need to lie on a sofa and cry at the horror of it all but I do feel the need to stop babbling and piffling about.

Perhaps I've got a dose of blogger-itis or post-fluenza. We shall see. In the meantime - best foot forward and as my Christmas present picture says 'If in doubt, brew up'.

cupboard love

2011-03-12T18:38:00.000Z

One of my favourite (and easy to access) past-times is to watch out for lovely cupboards, particularly of the office variety. This one, at the STEAM museum in Swindon is a particularly fine example. We possess a couple of such cupboards at home, picked up from Greenwich Market (sadly, no more) but they're not quite as shiny and, unfortunately, vintage cupboards rarely turn up with drawers the size of A4 paper or CDs or, dare I say, wool.

They are lovely to look at though and a joy to see on tv, often in the background at a particularly emotional scene. 'South Riding' had a few and 'Downton Abbey' was a big thrill in the cupboard department.

Apologies for the rather random subject matter. We went to STEAM as part of our 'site specific' module. Railways aren't really my thing and the cupboards and suitcases were some of the few things I found interesting.

As I've had time to think a little more about my course this week, I've been trying to work out why I was so uninspired and I've come to the conclusion that the museum, although, beautifully laid out and very informative was just so sanitised, making the manufacture of steam trains look like some kind of rural smithy - too clean, too tidy. I suspect it was a hard, dirty, brutal, deafening place to work and, instead, it was all made nice and 'heritage'. Hence my interest in the cupboards and suitcases. Places of information and carefully collected belongings - writing and numbers and travelling things.

And of travelling things - the honorary Spaniard is home and glued to the sport on the telly. The skiers are on their way back. Big breakfast tomorrow morning and roast dinner early evening. A proper Sunday. Yum.

proof I am a goldfish

2011-03-09T18:48:00.000Z

Conversation with tutor went something like this...

"so, where are you?"
"just about where you left me last session."
"what are you working on?"
"same as before, am thinking about textile-ing the whole thing up a bit"

DEATHLY SILENCE FROM MIDDLE-AGED MAN WITH BEARD (TUTOR)

"I thought you were going to concentrate on doing some close observational drawings"
"I would, if I had more than 10 minutes to concentrate on anything at any one time"
"I can see that in your sketchbook ......(drum roll here, please)....you don't actually have to finish a drawing in ten minutes, you know, you could spend ten minutes, leave it and then go back to the same drawing."

Now....correct me if I'm wrong....I would say there are two types of people:

people A - people who do ten things at once, scattering and accumulating time on them continuously
people B - people who do one thing at once, spending consecutive chunks of time on each thing sequentially

I would fall into a third category

people C - people who try to do ten things all at the same time, get all those ten things to a point where they might just about be finished but not quite and then abandon them mid-doing to attend to something far more urgent.

This is not working. If you read a similar post to this in a couple of weeks time, please add a comment and prefix it with the word 'goldfish'. There is no alternative. I need to close observation.

home alone 43

2011-03-07T09:08:00.000Z

I am alone in our house and will be all week. J went to Spain on Friday and The Worker took E skiing on Saturday.

I have painted the shoe drawers I have had in my room since July. I have attached handles and put them in the cupboards which The Worker painted and assembled in July. They now contain shoes!

I have organised a salsa night for a school fundraiser and made several mojito/nojito pitchers.

I have been working on this month's articles and am nearly, so nearly finished.

I'm off to Bath today to draw in the Fashion Museum and I don't have to get back for pick up.

I have become the world's best texting mother.

Yes, it is strange being in the house by myself. I haven't had the dishwasher on since Saturday afternoon. I almost don't want to go out although I can, whenever I like. I'm enjoying it, but not. It sounds very sentimental but there are three pieces of me that I know are missing.

On the upside? I've also lost 2lbs and I have no need to buy biscuits until next weekend. I may be safe. Hurrah.

the error of my ways...

2011-02-25T11:27:00.000Z

....in my defence, I am being very good, exercise-wise. I have engaged in some form of physical activity every day this week including running where I might be seen. I use the term running loosely, of course.

The Worker is doing a 10K run on Sunday so I feel that I must, at least, try to compete. So far I have managed 3 walk/runs which lasted a total of half an hour each. I walk for about five minutes and then run for a couple of minutes, walk a minute etc. I'm not exactly Olympic material. I have, however, been to the Nike shop at the outlet and invested in a running top and new trackies. I realised mid-Zumba, a couple of weeks, that one of my old pairs were not fit for gardening in.

So, I'm all kitted out. I have, as The Worker and Running Friend would say 'got the gear and no idea'.

My running routine involves quite a lot of fiddling about with my ipod (whilst walking), changing tracks a couple of times to get 'in my zone', adjusting stray items of clothing, worrying about my hair, avoiding streets and paths where I think dog-walking neighbours might snigger and obsessing that my rosy cheeks have become purple. I also contemplate the notion whether ladies of a certain age and stature should, indeed, run at all. I'm not made for speed.

Apart from running I took myself off to a new Zumba class. Prior to last night, I thought all Zumba classes were created equal. It appears not. Both classes and teachers are excellent but Malmesbury Zumba is, I would say, more dance based and Dauntsey Zumba has a more aerobics with dance feel about it. I liked both and would like to report, I glowed in equal measure after an hour of each. I'm interested to see what Wii Zumba will be like.

Zumba is, in fact, one of the only exercise classes I've ever really enjoyed. I used to fall off the steps at Step and Boxercise just made me want to weep - I'm not very confrontational. Yoga makes me feel inadequately bendy and the slowness of Tai Chi just made me angry and frustrated!

In any case, exercise aside, my current project is being scuppered by my inability to control my ridiculous eating habits. It has come to the point where I have been making a food diary this week and I have realised that some days I eat like an indulged eight year old on holiday. Admittedly it is half term week and the kids have gone into baking/cooking mood which means biscuits and macaroni cheese, mostly but, dear me I'm 43. Is it that difficult to make better food choices?

The best thing about doing a food diary is that I'm starting to alter what I eat so I don't have to write it down! I've already been tempted, however, to write fictitious entries such as 'pomegranate and goji berry fruit salad' for a breakfast that actually involved milky porridge with sugar and a slice of jam and toast and 'barley risotto with asparagus and halibut' when I've had chicken korma with peshwari naan.

A for effort. Must try harder.

stuff you might want to know....

2011-02-21T20:08:00.000Z

Zumba is out on the Wii on 5th March. I'm a semi-regular at our local classes and it will be great to have the chance to have a go at the routines on my living room carpet.

A little note from Mulberry popped into my inbox today, inviting me to their fashion show. If you're remotely interested in handbags and beautiful accessories, take a look. It's all beautifully delicious and gorgeously British.

And finally, you may want to know but I certainly didn't...between my Friday start-up for the wedding dress waistline project (WDW) I managed to put on two pounds. How did that happen?! Since then I've tried a 'pump it up' DVD (too hyper, too young, too shouty) and a 'strictly dance fit' DVD (too slow, too old, too incomprehensible). Tomorrow I think I might revisit Davina. From memory, I think she's somewhere in between.

10 weeks and counting....

2011-02-18T17:57:00.000Z

...that's it, I'm committed, despite having Friday frozen fish and chips ready to go into the oven - i.e. oven chips, fish cakes and mushy peas for tea (will only have a few).

Weather permitting, I will be walking around the football pitch where E & J train and where G has started to run with B. If it's raining I'm off, instead, to Bath's fashion museum to draw the 17th century gloves - isn't life grand when a girl can have such options.

My week has been quite surreal - zumba on Monday, parents' evening Monday night, a delicious spa day on Tuesday, rugby training Tuesday afternoon, drawing and papering Wednesday, Oxford on Thursday, book group Thursday night, printing and TD day for E today. A bit of a whirlwind but an enjoyable one.

Next week? Half term break. I'm imagining a few lie-ins and some re-arranging and getting around to things whilst becoming svelter and slimmer by the hour! Ha!

Have a good weekend.

notion confirmed....

2011-02-15T18:14:00.000Z

....having been 'assessed', i.e. weighed on a fancy scale today, it seems this week's notion of getting into my wedding skirt should not be optional. I won't go into the details as it's far too depressing. Suffice to say I can kid myself no longer. Something needs to be done. I'm not as far gone as 'the biggest losers' but it's not just a case of a couple of pounds to lose either. A couple of months concentrating on my waistline will not do me as much harm as continuing to throw caution to the wind and staying firmly in health and fitness denial.

Do not be alarmed, this will not turn into some kind of pre-menopausal diet blog. I'm planning to keep the gory details to myself as much as possible. I will, however, post any triumphant skirt-fitting photographs, just to keep up the motivation.

Tomorrow I'm back on holiday (sorry, college). I've got an Argos catalogue to carve a £ sign into tonight - don't ask, it's art you know.

I have a notion....

2011-02-13T19:47:00.000Z

...to use the upcoming nuptials of the lovely KAte and Wills to kick start my annual projectforty vow renewal and aim to squeeze in to the suit I wore for my own wedding in '95. I've tried on the skirt and it seems there's a gap of about 4 inches between button and hole on the waistband. I wonder if this might be possible. There are ten weeks to go until the happy day.

Anyone in the mood to join me?

lucky strike....

2011-02-07T09:17:00.000Z

Our Spanish visitor is lovely. He is polite, charming, speaks pretty good English and seems to be enjoying himself. He has had a trip to Gloucester to watch rugby with the gentlemen of the house and yesterday we all went to Oxford to see the dreaming spires and the Pitt Rivers Museum.

I have quite enough trouble discerning my own teenage boy's mood and have been quite anxious about judging the interests, likes and dislikes of our visitor but he seems to be fine and he appears to be settling in. He was bundled off to school with J this morning which I think was making him a little nervous, as can be expected. I've given him enough food to keep him going for a week and he will see his friends who have also spent the weekend with their families. Hopefully he will have a good day. Roast dinner for supper. What's not to like?

It must have been a bit of a shock to the system to finish school in your own city on Friday afternoon, travel for a good few hours and arrive in a car park in Wiltshire to be taken to a village to stay in the wind and the rain to stay with a family you barely know beyond a couple of emails. I take my hat off to him - I'm not sure how either of my two would feel about such an adventure. He's coped brilliantly but I do hope we've made it as easy for him as possible.

The weather here is horrible - wild and windy, not quite freezing but cold enough. I have come home from drop off and seitched every light on in the kitchen and am trying to start my essay for college (hence the posting instead!). The title: 'Line of enquiry: an investigation of related drawing practices." Suggestions will be gratefully received!

Have a good week!

this week I have been mostly,,,,

2011-02-02T20:31:00.000Z

....wondering how to incorporate art into my daily life, as suggested by one of my tutors (the next suggestion was to draw the saucepan holding the baked beans - pururururururururrrrrrlllllllease)

...considering how we might entertain a 14 year old Spaniard who is due to arrive on Saturday, my brain is racking as I type

...working out how to squeeze working and studying and housework and gardening and sleeping and into 24 hours a day whilst remaining patient and good humoured (a perennial but unsolvable mystery)

...thanking my lucky stars that lots of people help me out when I simply can't be in two places at once

...thinking about entering a couple of art competitions...just to see what would happen

...contemplating the notion that I might like thinking and reading about art rather than actually making it (let's hope my tutors don't read this)

...chitting my seed potatoes for my container spud experiment

...organising my sketchbooks

...watching the sky for signs of early mornings so that I can get out for a quick stomp before the house wakes up

...enjoying a visit to London....GOD I LOVE PAVEMENTS...and noise and smog and traffic and coffee shops every few yards and shops and food from everywhere in one street and galleries and museums and noise and smog and traffic and people to look at and the tube and the streets and the restaurants

...realising I don't want to live there. I like living here.

movie overload

2011-01-27T09:23:00.000Z

We have watched three films since Saturday:

- Up in the Air (George Clooney being mean but getting less mean)
- The American (George Clooney looking very worried whilst getting away with murder)
- Revolutionary Road (Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio being very miserable)

I need something to cheer me up! I love a good drama but, dear me, where has all the fun gone? I know these films aren't exactly up to the minute but is anyone making films for adults that have a little bit of joy? Perhaps a few laughs?

We have a new thing in Malmesbury which should make sure we actually leave the house to see films. Our local town council has teamed up with Moviola the UK's 'rural multiplex'. The idea is that the film and projectionist travel, not the audience. A fantastic idea and very enjoyable unless you have back problems and don't fancy sitting on the standard village/town hall seating. If you're in the South West, take a look at their website and see where they screen. We're having a year's trial in Malmesbury and I'm spreading the word so that the trial turns into a regular venue. As the most northern town in a rural county, it's can be difficult for the local population to access all sorts of services and entertainments. A fortnightly trip to the cinema is not going to save lives but it is going to bring something a little different and an extra bit of joy.

getting going....

2011-01-19T11:01:00.000Z

...this week I've enjoyed an early zumba class (9.30am is early in my book) and a river walk each morning after drop-off.

It made me think how lucky I am to live in a place where I can walk my daughter to school, pop in my ipod earphones and stomp across fields to check that the River Avon is where it's meant to be. And it's true - exercise is good for the soul, as well as the body. I can feel the difference in my outlook. Having spent about a month coughing, spluttering and slumped on the sofa, the effect of getting out into the fresh air is like some kind of power surge.

On Monday I saw a kingfisher for the first time ever IN MY LIFE. And again, I marvelled at how great it is that even aged 43, there are still things I haven't seen - most of them, admittedly, nature related.

We have a busy week this week - surprise, surprise. The Worker is turning into The Driver as he hurtles around the UK organising re-fits of pubs and hotels, E seems to have escalated her after school activities (not sure how that happened) and J is making his final choice for GCSE. I thought this last activity would be fraught with anxiety and dithering but no. J knows what he wants to do, is open to parental discussion but is quite determined. His choices fit the paramaters that his school has laid down so that's that. Done and dusted.

It has provoked a lot of memory sessions between myself and The Worker. I wasn't allowed to do Art, so did Technical Drawing (then spent 25 years before starting a Fine Art degree) and he didn't want to do Art because it sounded too girly (all-boys-grammar school in the 80s - you can't blame him) so he did Technical Drawing too. Must have been right for him, he's a surveyor/project manager.

It also made me think about how much angst over kids is too much/too little. I can already see that this bit of parenting is going to be a lot more difficult solely because there's are two quite forceful individuals with their own point of view in the house. Most of my parenting style is quite, I think, laid back but I do have a tendency to do the 'don't, because I say so' routine which has kind of worked but I can feel my power waning. In fact, I think it's already gone. They just walk off. How rude but, ha ha, then I get the remote. What's that about a silver lining?

the big society....

2011-01-13T10:12:00.000Z

...could be:

a) a comment on the rise of obesity in our great and glorious land (N.B. 'The Biggest Loser' - guaranteed to make a girl feel skinny once a week)

b) the vague, implausible, so-called social revolution proposed by our dear and beloved coalition

Today, I'm going to write about (b). This is because I heard Frances Maud waffling on Radio 4 whilst driving around a sodden Chippenham while E & best friend, L did 'streetdance' (which is a whole other post).

First of all I must thank The Worker for providing me with the means to listen to Rt. Hon F Maud. Second of all, is anyone feeling that we're in a bit of a time warp? Listening to him reminded me of being at college in the 80s. All I could hear was a plummy voice sounding as if he didn't really know what he was talking about.

This is what I heard (not necessarily, what was actually said). I might have a listen online again - or maybe not.

'So, Mr Maud, what is The Big Society' asked nicey Radio 4 lady whose name I can't remember....
'Well, it's not that easy to define. There's no policy as such.'
Pause for nicey Radio 4 lady to take that in....
'What does it actually mean?'
'That's defined, really by communities themselves'
'Right'
'What will people do as part of The Big Society?'
'Whatever it is their community requires.'
'Will you have targets? How will you know it's working?'
'No, there are no targets yet? It will develop organically.'

Now, call me old-fashioned but isn't transparency in government all the rage? The Big Society (or BS as I'm going to refer to it in the future) sounds a bit vague, a bit amorphous, a bit foggy.

I'm sure it's all in the national interest though.

There, rant of the week done and dusted.

all the ones....

2011-01-10T18:20:00.002Z

...it's the 11th of the 1st, 2011 tomorrow. 11/1/11. It must be an auspicious date of some sort and if not auspicious, then spookily dangerous with numbers like that. I could google it but I've googled so much lately I can't bear to.

My googling habit got out of hand over the Christmas break. I can't remember how many times I googled 'turkey leftover sprouts' or 'ultimate roast potatoes' or 'what to do with sprouts' or 'weather, Swindon'. One of my favourite new year past-times (in a spirit of frugality) is to google random contents of the cupboard, fridge or freezer and see which recipes turn up. I discovered chicken, chickpea and chorizo stew recently which I have to say was rather good.

I'm considering introducing an 'incommunicado day' each month where I will leave my mobile, email, ipad and laptop untouched for a full 24 hours. Much as I appreciate (and love) to have almost everything at my fingertips and available online, I would quite like to experience that feeling of being away that we had a few years ago when if we left the office or home we just mentioned that we'd be back in a couple of hours and, well, went. No-one could ask us something that could quite happily wait a couple of hours. If I was on Facebook I think I would start a campaign, inviting people to join me on a 'switch off' day. Imagine if we all switched off, if Twitter was tweetless and Facebook had no pokes or whatever it has. What a day that would be.

I think of my nephew, currently in New Zealand, armed with Facebook, a mobile and an email address. The worker and I went travelling 17 years ago and I remember packing airmail envelopes and visiting 'poste restantes'. Family and friends heard from us regularly but by post. At the end of our travels, my mum gave us all the letters we'd sent home and we had kept all those sent to us. I had a look a couple of weeks ago (it was snowing, you know) and marvelled at the handwriting, the little drawings, the stamps. We used to phone about once a month or if we moved to another country. We stood in hot, sweaty, smelly phoneboxes or managed to persuade American Express offices that we were very important customers and needed to use the phone. We phoned on birthdays and at Christmas. That was it. Was it better? It was just different but there's something about knowing that you're properly away. That you're immersed in where you are instead of having one foot where you've been.

Sometimes I think our reliability on technology and all its advantages is rendering us a tad useless. Most people, apparently, fear losing their mobile more than their wallet. I read that landline use is falling like a brick and the sales of maps are waning. 'Easy Living' magazine recently ran an article about all the things we don't do any more, such as:
- read a map
- look something up in an encyclopedia
- write cheques
- write letters

We are losing the physical presence of money, the joy of receiving letters by post and the understanding of wherever we are through the maps that could guide us. There are so many advantages of technology but they come with a bit of a price.

in the beginning....

2011-01-04T14:47:00.000Z

...there was Jeremy Vine encouraging us all to feel sorry for ourselves or to despise those that feel sorry for ourselves as VAT rises, jobs disappear, money dwindles and our bank balances dip further below the overdraft line in this first week of 2011.

There was no mention of new starts, healthy lifestyles, starting again, looking forward, general gung-ho optimism, no, he just wound his callers up. Most of his callers sounded as if they hadn't left the house for a month. I have sympathy with them due to my own seasonal agraphobia. I still haven't quite recovered and find I get a little dizzy if away from the house for more than a couple of hours.

I can only listen to Mr Vine for short periods of time before my ranting gets the better of me. Phone-ins are such pointless things. They don't solve anything. There's not a great deal we can do about the VAT rise apart from a) make more money b) spend less. No amount of complaining will change it. We've just got to get on with it and accept that a millionaire who's never had a proper job is quite likely to be unaware of the impact his policies have on the ordinary minions about the place. That's what we voted (or didn't) for last year.

We went to see 'Swallows and Amazons' at Bristol's Old Vic on Sunday. It was lovely. I always forget what a small theatre it is. We had half the back row of the stalls and I was sat bang in the centre with a direct view of the stage.

The production had a sense of austerity about it. The biggest prop was a mast and there was a 'make do and mend' air about the rest of the staging. The sea was represented by 4 blue ribbons and the boats were improvised from boards with castors and bits of wood. Like 'Warhorse' the stage hands were part of the production and were much more than lugger-abouters, they played the instruments, sang in the choir and gave the main actors an energy and humour they otherwise wouldn't have had. It made me want to come home and make things but then, I always do want to come home and make things. We had a lovely time watching a nostalgic version of dear old Blighty and the fun we used to be able to have with nothing but a cardboard box and a sugar sandwich.

On a more materialistic note - FC brought me a new car stereo with a jack to play my ipod - no more tapes. Just me, my ipod and a few CDs. My old one crashed at the beginning of December and I've had enough of driving around with just my random thoughts to distract me. I'm much better off if I can listen to Melvyn Bragg once in a while. I'm sure my IQ rises simply by hearing him talk with all those dons and professors about ancient greece or the vikings. Can you get brainier just by listening to brainy people? When I'm not listening to Melvyn, I shall be trying to blow my speakers with lots of age-inappropriate music on the way to Swindon College.

Happy New Year!

Malmesbury, the final frontier....

2010-12-20T17:30:00.001Z

...thanks to my dear friend, S, and an urgent dental appointment for K & H, I cadged a lift to Malmesbury through the snow and the hail. It was a pleasant trip - the countryside looks lovely at 10 miles an hour and there were hardly any cars on the road.

I spent more in Malmesbury in an hour today than I think I have in the last twelve months and my nearest and dearest have done very well. I shall shop locally more often but perhaps give myself a couple of visits as my bags were laden and I hadn't worn the right shoes to cope with the slush-covered pavements.

All we need now is Tesco and the turkey to turn up and Christmas will happen.

Do you remember the episode of 'The Good Life' when Christmas didn't come in a van? I can feel a Margot moment coming on....

speaking too soon....discuss

2010-12-18T11:11:00.000Z

Having rambled on yesterday about anxious food shopping, I now find myself looking out onto at least five inches of snow, no prospect of getting to Londinium as planned and several gaping holes in my Christmas shopping.

Is this bad karma or just weather? When has it ever been like this just before Christmas? It's normally damp and slightly warm. It's never arctic and freezing. It looks pretty though and if I ever get out of my pyjamas I might go for a toddle round and avoid being a snowball target.

Not to worry - good job I bought those frozen sprouts. I think there might be some chicken thighs in the freezer too.

snow what?

2010-12-17T15:27:00.000Z

I have visited several supermarkets this week, exchanging various loyalty points for essential Christmas items such as amaretto, sherry and fine wines (there is a theme, I'm sure you can see it). The supermarkets are packed. I have checked opening times for said supermarkets. Tesco for example closes at 7pm on Christmas Eve and opens again at 10am on Boxing Day, totalling 39 hours.

There is a palpable aura of frenzy at the chipolata counter and a nervous twitching around the sprouts. In fact, I'm so twitchy about sprouts, I bought some frozen ones JUST IN CASE. I had to leave the shop shortly afterwards as JUST IN CASE can be used to rationalise any purchase. Luckily I was in Sainsbury's, not Jigsaw or Toast.

Christmas Day is a week away. Is everyone planning to hunker down and stay in the house for over a week? This, I believe, will cause more trauma if we all pop out on the icy roads. There are several possible scenarios:

- family A will have had a huge row and no-one will be speaking to each other by the time FC readies the reindeer
- family B will run out of a) wine b) sherry c) wrapping paper and feel inadequately prepared and furies of blame and shame will heap upon the family member who didn't buy enough
- family C will watch so much TV and eat so much quality street that the sofa will break, necessitating a trip to DFS

I know it's snowing heavily in lots of places and I know that everyone wants to have a lovely, lovely Christmas but isn't it time to get a grip - especially in the North of Wiltshire where the BBC's weather forecast says nothing but 'white cloud' for the next three days?

too much, a little too late....

2010-12-14T16:20:00.000Z

I have learnt something since going back to college. I take on too many things at the same time and it is time to stop.

I won't bore you with the details and it's not as if I'm running a country or an international mega-brand but I have no space in my head or my hands for anything else. I know that other people seem to manage to spin 1000s of plates and multi-task their way through life but I can't do that without feeling exhausted or grumpy or, worse still, inept as I try to do too many things and end up doing most of them quite badly.

I am determined to spend the next couple of weeks with my family, having a lovely festive time and then it's time to have a think.

Tonight we're off for a family shopping trip. I have a list and I'm going to tick it.

a lovely time was had by all....

2010-12-12T14:50:00.000Z

...until the red wine hit the cream sofa.

And it was me.

It was a very slow-moving spillage but a spillage nonetheless. Our divine hostess, the glorious Dr L, was about to sit to my left. I moved to my right and before I knew it, my arm had shook/moved and the offending liquid was liberated on to the sofa and also on to my dear friend G's beautiful skirt.

Things moved quickly afterwards. White wine was tipped, salt was scattered, stain remover found, the coverS (!) were stripped and soaked and the washing machine was on before anyone could say 'I'm glad I/my wife didn't do that'!

My friend and hostess were both very gracious and calm. I was not. I think I may have to give up red wine or parties or both.

I am also, as anyone would be, mortified but am pleased to report that I must have done some good in a previous life as the clean and wholesome covers were back on the sofa by 10.30am when I popped over to help with the washing up, apologise profusely and offer to sacrifice my cheque book. The washing machine gods smiled upon me and all is well.

I imagine any New Years Eve party invitations will suddenly dry up or be addressed to The Worker. It's going to be a cold and lonely end to 2010! I think I'll stick to pinot grigio and sit very still in the living room.

whoops, I did it again...

2010-12-05T12:08:00.000Z

...I had a flurry of Christmas shopping in November just after a friend told me she'd done all hers, wrapped it, written the Christmas cards and put stamps on them.

Consequently, I now have an incomplete collection of Christmas presents, wrapping and paper and I now need to a) do something with the ones I have b) work out what I haven't done and go to the shops IN THE SNOW c) wrap them, write them and store them.

I wish I didn't sound like such a Christmas grump because I actually love Christmas. I love the part where everything is done and I get to sit about for several days reading books I've had my eye on for months.

I love the part that involves cooking and drinking sherry whilst cooking. I love making things I don't make all year - especially cranberry sauce with real cranberries and port and orange and spicy spiky star anise.

What I don't really love is the organisation of it, the pre-empting of it, the sorting of it. We have our flurry of birthdays in the autumn and I arrive at the end of November thinking that we've already had quite enough for one year and we should embrace the Condem's austerity measure and make do with a few satsumas and perhaps a handknit scarf. Thinking about it, I wouldn't like that either.

I am fortunate that the Worker likes Christmas shopping. Those of you that know him will find this laughable as he is shop-averse January through to November. He loves doing the kids' presents and I have to say I let him. He also offers to cook Christmas dinner every year around 22nd December. I do not let him do that and I inform him, each year, that his offer is most welcome but, well, far too *(*&^^%%& late in the day to be taken seriously.

The Worker's Christmas shopping, however, is a wonder to behold and one of my favourite parts of Christmas is our morning ritual. FC has been and I'm always amazed how thoughtful and attentive he has been to three of our family. Special little gifts emerge and three of us gasp with delight. My stocking, is in fact a sack - I made the other three smaller on purpose - each year I point out that any member of the family is at liberty to make me a smaller stocking/sack for next year. Ho ho ho!

a shocking discovery....

2010-11-30T11:14:00.000Z

...there's another 'me'.

I've started to make contact with companies and other organisations to boost my writing and teaching activities. I thought I would check my online profile as I'm aware that those I've contacted may take a little time to check it out. I chose to write this blog anonymously because initially I wanted to write more freely and I wasn't sure how long I would blog, what I would write about etc. I think my real name is on a handful of websites such as School of Everything.

Anyway, I googled 'me' and up popped another 'me' on Facebook. I don't do Facebook. If I wanted to meet people, I'd go out or join a group or see my friends in the real world. Nevertheless, I had to look. The temptation was too much.

'Me' on Facebook is a perfectly nice woman with quite a few friends. I have to say, however, that I'm a bit miffed that I can't now claim my own name on Facebookplanet. I'll have to contrive a name with numbers or with my middle name. She also seems to have more friends than me. I quickly left her profile as it all felt a little peculiar. My name, someone else's life. I should never have looked! Can I claim my name back? I can't think anyone would want to participate in such a trade. My online future, I fear, may be doomed.

more or less?

2010-11-29T14:45:00.001Z

I've been thinking about aspiration and satisfaction, how some people are adept at accepting and embracing the present and existing, and others prefer to pursue the other, the bigger, the better, the more.

This thinking was brought about by a chat I had with the man who presses the apples from our apple trees every year. We discussed all sorts of subjects but the topic that got me thinking was about how companies (and perhaps people) can almost get too big. If everyone wants the biggest market share and competes aggressively to get it, at what point are they happy with that market share and if they never are, what happens if something goes wrong or if the market collapses?

Is this business practice just the same as trying to out-do your neighbours with your car or your lifestyle? I'm no economist (you might have guessed), but presumably there's only so much market to grab and there's only so much money in customers' purses. It doesn't matter if the shops are always open if we poor consumers only have so much cash. Surely we then just spend the same over a longer period of time?

I do know, however, that I'm over wanting 'more'. I think I've realised that unless the lottery god picks me out, I've neither the talent or the perseverance to strive for anything much more than I have. Of course, I like the idea of Birkins and Mulberrys and Cartiers but, let's face it, they wouldn't go with my New Look jeans.

PS: Who else is delighted that Wagner has been flung back to obscurity....could it be Ann's turn next?

"Kwills" - the wedding

2010-11-24T09:06:00.001Z

Now, before you read this, please note that I wish any couple getting married the very best of luck and love. I am happy that our most recent famous betrotheds have set a date. I have no malicious thoughts towards them or their nearest and dearest. However, my initial thoughts on the Royal Wedding are thus:

"Whooppeeeeeeee"

- we'll all get more time at home or on holiday next April

- we can think about K's dress (will she go for British design or cast the net/veil wider?)

- thinking about K's dress will distract us from balancing our domestic and, indeed, national budget deficits after Christmas and the VAT increase

- the dress will knock the ConDem's gradual destructive twiddling of our lives off every front page, thereby reducing the prospect of public protest and disruption to our town centres

- we get a day off

- we'll find out how much it's all going to cost and be able to compare it with the cost of an 'average couple's wedding'

- there will be fewer pictures of Katie Price on the cover of 'OK!' at the supermarket checkouts

- we get an extra day off

- reality TV shows will be replaced by programme after programme of idenitikit Hoorays talking about their friends the Kwills, what they were like at nursery, how they behaved at uni, how lovely they both are which will stop me watching so many hours of reality TV (note to self: must post about GK on IACGMOOH)

I really do wish the happy couple the very best of luck and I hope they have a lovely day with their family and friends. I might even watch their arrival at Westminster Abbey on the telly but do we really need to have five months of vicarious wedding planning?

in praise of knees

2010-11-22T16:39:00.000Z

...or, rather, Knees, Malmesbury's department store.

Before I posted this, I googled Knees, expecting to get a list of bone and joint supplements. I find, however that Knees has a very respectable website with, dare I say it, the option of online ordering. You can find Knees here.

There is a Knees in sunny Trowbridge but our local Malmesbury branch is my subject today. When living in London, there was nothing I liked better than a bit of Saturday afternoon department store browsing. Department stores are a great thing. Lots of different brands in one lovely shop with opportunities for refreshment. I've always loved the fact that you know there will be cosmetics on the ground floor and haberdashery will be up in the sky somewhere. I've loved them all: Selfridges, Harrods, Dickens & Jones and especially Liberty. I have taken to visiting John Lewis at Cribbs Causeway when stressed as I find their kitchen department incomparably soothing. All is right in the world when contemplating the plethora of egg cups when you know that they will never be knowingly undersold.

Knees is in a class of its own. Its current window display contains a family of porcelain meerkat figurines. Something that every home should have. For a department store in a tiny town, it has a wide selection of ornaments and china. I often wonder who buys them and where they put them. It's one of those little mysteries I like to have a think about.

Dubious porcelain apart, Knees is the best store ever. I would estimate that Knees is 99% effective in the search for any domestically required item. Brewing your own beer? Visit Knees. Baking a cake and want a liner? Pop to Knees. Bird food? Knees. Seals for ancient Kilner jars - yes, you've guessed it. I suspect that Knees has saved more women from culinary drama than you or I could possibly imagine and it has a wider variety of vacuum cleaner bags that I knew existed.

Now, if only it sold Dr Haucshka, Origins and Ren....and there was a cafe.

double digits

2010-11-19T09:19:00.000Z

That's it. My baby is 10. Today. She appeared at our bedside this morning at 7am having got up at 10pm, 11pm, 11.30pm with an attack of the anticipations. We've had two significant birthdays this year, both marking time that we'll never get back but both marking the start of new things and a new way of family life.

Things I expect:
- fewer visits from the tooth fairy
- less TV freedom as they stay up later and later
- about the same amount of tantrums but over quite different matters
- poverty brought about by insatiable teenage appetites
- an extra dryer as the clothes get bigger
- afternoons of boredom waiting outside changing rooms in Bristol
- less plastic in the house, perhaps
- hormonal fluctuations (from at least 3 of us)

I don't think I can bring myself to anticipate anything else - as long as we're all healthy, calm and happy and there's food in the fridge, I'm happy.

let the festivities commence!

2010-11-15T20:13:00.000Z

I admit it, I've started my Christmas shopping. I have cards, wrapping, presents and food underway. I know exactly what will happen.

- I will 'lose' the wrapping paper because I'll hide it somewhere and forget about it

- I will eat at least one Terry's Chocolate Orange

- I will forget that whilst loading the credit card with gifts I also added a few 'personal items' that will jolt me into financial panic in the New Year

- I will forget to send at least five of the Christmas cards I write

- I will give in to the mass Christmas card sending that occurs amongst E's friends at schools despite protesting every year that we should just donate a goat to a poor soul somewhere else (no-one needs any more unrecyclable cardboard in their house)

- I will forget to book my online delivery and end up sitting outside a supermarket at sparrow's fart one morning during the week before Christmas

- I will forget that shop-bought mince pies contain about 750 calories each before I eat a packet one drizzly day in December

- I will re-name a long-lost relative causing irreparable insult resulting in one less second class stamp next year

- I will be harrassed by my children for insisting that all Christmas lights should be clear or white and definitely not 'phased' or 'pulsing'

- I will wonder why turkeys are so much more expensive than chicken

- I will name my turkey Claudia or Alesha or Tess (feel free to vote)

- I will have a lovely time with the people I love and care about the most.

blown about....

2010-11-12T09:09:00.000Z

It's the 4th morning this week that I've stepped out of the house and found myself in a gale. I can see though that the wind is settling and I hope today will be a calmer affair.

We watched Tom Ford's 'A Single Man' last night. Not exactly the Worker's cup of tea but very moving and beautifully made. Like 'Mad Men' it had an authentically nostalgic feel and (as you'd expect from TF) an incredible attention to detail on costume and set. I'm never quite sure about Colin Firth (sorry) but he was quite brilliant. I hope he makes more like this and less like 'Love Actually' (although I always cry at that bit when Emma Thompson finds out about nasty husband's infidelity and smooths down the sheets before she pulls herself together).

Anyway...I digress. We had our 'group crit' yesterday. It was a bit like being in a gale. There's a lot of diversity in our small group in terms of work and approach. One minute we were looking at beautifully textured landscape paintings, the next we were contemplating wire 'growing' from the installation room. There was lots of talk and lots of discussion until the group came to my space. I have two sets of work going on - random sketchbook 'experiments' and a more considered project, examining collections and how the ordinary can be made extraordinary. There's not a lot of drawing going on.

The only people who spoke were one of the other students and the tutor. I welcomed the howling wind subsiding but I'm not sure I wanted to hear such peace and quiet yesterday afternoon.

Lucas North is dead....

2010-11-09T12:28:00.000Z

....just like the ending of 'Thelma and Louise', LN went over the edge last night and just as I still believe T&L survived, I believe that Lucas somehow got a Soviet chopper to sweep him up and take him to a safe house. Poor Harry looked a bit sorry for himself. I'm not sure I'm enamoured with the next batch of spies and operatives but I'm sure I'll get hooked again if the series returns.

We watched 3 hours of 'Spooks' last night, I insisted we caught up on the episodes we'd missed before watching the finale. I was a little strung out by the end and realised that my airport paranoia can be directly tracked to Spooks Series 1 and beyond. Last night's episode of hacking and surveillance had my stress levels flying about like a sparrow in windy weather. I am not MI5 material.

So...now Spooks has finished but IACGMOOH (celebrity jungle japes) starts on Sunday with, I hear Mr Boy George and Jedward. Can this be true? Of course, I won't be watching, I'll be reading 'The Iliad' whilst listening to 'Wagner' (not Vargner, silly).

I'm having a very pleasant couple of days, enjoying peaceful hours during school time and enjoying the feeling of my feet being attached, in my slippers, quite firmly to the ground. I did a little exercise yesterday but made sure, at all times, that at least one foot was planted firmly and squarely. I did not put my feet above my head at any point.

I've done admin, and am keeping the house clean. I've even bought some Christmas presents and started to think about Christmas cake. It's just been really nice to be at home, pottering about.

There is, of course, the slight matter of wealth creation to attend to. My teaching commitments are likely to be scuppered by the cuts in the near future so I need to revive that CV and create some opportunities. I like that part of self-employment. I put it down to the fact that I regularly trawled a variety of shops and businesses throughout my teens and early twenties to find work. My greatest success was finding a job two hours after a particularly nasty row with an existing Saturday employer (a bit like Voldermort, his name can not be uttered) in a toy shop, for more money and better breaks. There's nothing like a bit of self-determination to cheer a body up.

I digress....college beckons tomorrow and we have our first 'group crit' on Thursday. There are two reasons this makes me slightly nervous. Firstly, my work is, shall we say, a little minimal. Secondly, we are a small group of students and although we are getting to know each other, a few misinterpreted comments about our first attempts could be problematic. Our tutor is lovely and skilled in such matters, I'm sure but as anxious I am about what comments my own work will illicit, I'm not sure how to approach commenting on the work of others. Deep breaths and a large flask of coffee will be required.

Right...off now to clear away the ironing and get out the sketchbooks....

extended leave....

2010-11-06T16:48:00.000Z

We've been away. We've been far away. We visited Mickey and Harry and Homer in Orlando. It was a big trip. A big trip with big rides, big food, big walks, big domestic appliances, big cars. It was a fortnight of visiting, queuing and flying about in the air. It was fantastic to do something so different and so full-on. Everything was bright and noisy and hot and shiny.

I have to say I'm now pooped! We're a week back and I'm relying on herbal something-or-others to stay asleep beyond 2am. I'm told this will wear off by Monday. We were 6 hours behind UK time and apparently it takes a day for every hour of time change to recover. Who knows?

I know that I'm enjoying many of the things I'd got fed up with before we went which, I suppose, is one of the purposes of a holiday. I love my bed. I had a great time going to the supermarket to finish re-stocking the cupboards. I'm enjoying our country roads and the quiet rurality of our surroundings.

The best thing about coming home for me was the fact that friends had house-sit for us whilst their house was being 'done up'. I'd tried to tidy up before we left but dear C (the temporary lady of the house) did us proud. Even the fridge was defrosted with a home-made lasagne and salad ready for us when we got back. I know she and P appreciated our house while we were away but I would be very grateful if they could move in every time we went anywhere. Their appreciation is matched if not surpassed by ours.

So...it's been back to normality. We got back on Monday evening with school, work and college beckoning by 9am on Tuesday. Not to be recommended but there are still four of us and we're all talking to each other. I'd expected a big comedown and a seismic meltdown on Thursday but so far so good.

We're now on the countdown to E's birthday - the gift list changes daily and Christmas, of course. I know from the last ten years that I need to get a little bit ahead. Now. This year especially as I have a college deadline and a possible trip to Paris to fit in before the end of term. I can feel a list coming on.

Happy Fireworks!

today I have mostly been having a cold....

2010-10-07T15:18:00.000+01:00

E and I have been off school/college today with a heady, chesty, sicky kind of thing. Every time I do something more strenuous than make a cup of tea or coffee I feel I've aged about 40 years. I am considering the early purchase of a stroller/walker thing. I might as well get one, VAT is going up in January.

Now is not the time to have the lurg. I won't bore you with my interminable lists but they run from 'define myself as an artist' to 'remember the adapter plug for holiday'. When my head isn't aching, it's spinning.

It's all my own doing of course and I'm having a great time and I shouldn't complain and all that but I'm poorly so I'm allowed.

I wonder if my poorliness might have been made worse by my new habit of shouting loudly at Tories on the Telly. I find shouting at Tories who can't hear me very therapeutic on one level but I don't think it's helping my sore throat. Every time I see one, I can't quite believe some of us were daft enough to vote for them or that other lot who've become Tories overnight whose name I can't bring myself to mention - and every night I tell them. Loudly. In my pyjamas.

And don't get me started on the child benefit fiasco - how could they? Do we all think it's OK that they just sweep away a principle that has been standing for over several generations? What next - will higher-rate taxpayers lose their right to free prescriptions for their children? Will we have to pay for dental treatment for our children? And how can it possibly be fair that a family with a total income of £45K per year won't get child benefit and a family of £87K will? How is that a family friendly policy? It's hard to argue for a benefit that some people don't strictly need but the fact that there is a way to still access that benefit when your income is double the cut-off point for an individual, single family is just unfathomable. Either take it away completely or restrict the age range that it's claimed for.

And, while I'm at it - how can it be for 'the national interest'? The principle of child benefit, I always thought, was to provide something for future generations. To make sure that, if nothing else, the state knew that families were receiving an amount to support their children whether they saved it for their future or had to buy their school dinners with it. By effectively means testing that payment, they've divided families across the country, just as their beloved Mrs T did in oh so many ways some years ago. Aren't they marvellous?!

***

On another, more superficial matter, isn't telly great at the moment: I've had a week of Spooks, Mad Men and The Apprentice so far with Strictly on Saturday. I've reached my peak with X Factor.

Have a healthy week

*****

a new exercise craze....

2010-09-30T19:10:00.000+01:00

....is sweeping North Wiltshire....and beyond!

I've been going to Zumba with S and, more recently, K since before the summer holidays. You can visit the website to find a class near you and for their distinctively branded T-shirts, hairbands, trackies and DVDs.

Despite their rampant marketing drive, I have to say Zumba is one of the best exercise classes I've ever been to:

- there are no floor-based, uncomfortable abdominal exercises

- it's 2.4 miles away from where we live

- S picks me up and delivers me to the door

- it's dance based so I can wiggle my ample behind

- I can do most of the steps

- our instructor, Becky, is unfailingly cheerful and enthusiastic

- it's the funniest exercise class I've ever been to.

I've always felt that exercising 'en masse' is a peculiar activity. It reminds me of Korean State celebrations and dancing at home on carpets. At Zumba we samba and grapevine and merengue our way through music from around the globe but the fact is we're in a slightly musty village hall in our random selection of sportswear, shaking our bosoms as if we were in carnival in Rio. I just find it hilarious. I know I shouldn't and I know I should take my fitness seriously and respect everybody's right to lycra but I just can't help wondering what the aliens will make of us if they land at about 8.45pm on a Wednesday night in North Wiltshire. I imagine they'd think we were a slightly damp and quite co-ordinated species who liked loud noise.

This week the hall was divided into two distinct sections: by the door we had a gaggle of younger women all wearing copious amounts of eyeliner and barely breaking into a sweat. The other half of the room was populated by we ladies d'un certain age. Less makeup but clammier foreheads and, I have to say, better co-ordination and grander shimmies.

Some of us dance the tunes confidently and almost in time, mimicking Becky's oomph and pzazz - others, well, don't. What we all do, however, is have a fantastic time, whatever we take from it. You don't often see that many glowing women, smiling all the way back to their 4x4s after a night out at the gym. There must be something in it. Now, if only Becky would run a class in our village hall....

quango, mango, schwmango

2010-09-26T18:54:00.000+01:00

I worked for a quango, the Health Education Authority, just before the last big government change. I remember everyone being very excited about the prospect of funding for targeted health promotion work and evidence-based education around all aspects of health. The Authority was also famous for the HIV/AIDS iceberg adverts and its wide range of leaflets. I started work there just as email and the Internet were starting to make big in-roads into sharing information both public and otherwise. I actually remember someone ordering flowers via the Tesco website for their mother and being very impressed.

I was shocked to see the HUGE list of quangos and organisations that will soon be disappearing from our lives and was struck by the notion of not missing them until they are gone. Who else will monitor and evaluate some of the most important aspects of our lives? Who will look after the waterways - surely there are an important environmental part of our lives if nothing else? The things that those quangoes look after will not go away - someone, somewhere will have to pick up their work. Will it be the local authorities facing a budget cut of 25%? I'm not a politician, nor an economist but it seems to me that slicing swathes of both large and small will leave huge gaps that eventually will have to be re-established.

Perhaps that's the plan? Take away the organisations that have sustained us and been developed for the last few years, wait until the pain has subsided and then somehow grow them again? It's like emptying the house of food in the interests of a clear-out just to realise that everyone is still hungry and having to nip out to the shops again.

This little rant takes me to time travel - I do have a real sense of deja vu in all areas of life at the moment - for goodness sake, Supertramp are doing a huge tour this year and UB40 are out and about celebrating the 30th anniversary of their dole-queue-reggae. I'm back at college and thinking about wearing leggings in public. The unions are getting uppity and I think I saw a batwing mohair jumper in M&S last week.

We're on our way to the 80s. It's inevitable. Crack open the Liebraumilch and get the Black Forest Gateau out, Kajagoogoo have got a new single out.

things I've been thinking about...

2010-09-25T09:27:00.000+01:00

...and I promise to write about...

- quangos (the demise thereof)
- social networking (for and against)
- sketchbooks (decisions upon)
- autumn (merits and demerits)
- paper
- knitting
- time travel
- birthdays

Did anyone else see that amazing moooooooooooooooooon?!

back to the future

2010-09-19T07:46:00.001+01:00

That's it. I'm a student again, twenty five years after my last attempt. That number of years does nothing for my anti-ageing regime, I can tell you. The fact that two of my fellow students have literally just left school and are younger than my youngest niece makes my head spin and my wrinkles deepen.

I'm having a great time though. Three days in and I can't wait for the next three years.

I must explain that this adventure is taking part in Swindon. Who knew you could have so much fun...in Swindon! For those of you who don't know and may be interested, I've started a BA in Fine Art with Drawing Practice. In some complicated college funding palaver, it's an Oxford Brookes degree but it's taught just up the road. Apparently, this is one of the few art degrees that offers such a detailed analysis and pathway through drawing and its significance to all fine art practice. Phew! I know, sounds mightly grand to me too.

I did an Access to Art & Design course a couple of years ago after I'd finished a contract and was looking for something to do. Little did I know that I would finally find something I wanted to do, really wanted to do.

I've been wanting to get a degree for years, just to prove I can, just to get that piece of paper and, especially, to wipe out that little pebble of irritation I've had with myself ever since I flunked out the first time. I've spent years doing adult education courses, diplomas, every single work-based training course I could get my hands on. I love to learn. I love new things and there's nothing I like better than sitting about reading and thinking and pondering (except knitting).

The main aim for colleges running Access courses is to convert those students to BA students. I signed up. I was hooked. Life decided to get in the way - big time - and I put that plan on the back burner, thinking that was it, I'd have to wait until the kids had done their stuff.

The thing is, it's now or never. I've realised that I don't really need a degree, I've worked happily and successfully without one - I just want one.

Meanwhile, as I'm swanning about in a fedora and smock, the garden is going mad. Everywhere I look there are either vegetables to be eaten or hedges to be cut back or drooping plants, waiting to be chopped. There's laundry to be done and dust to be removed. It took G&J four hours to de-dust J's bedroom yesterday. Looks lovely (especially as I didn't have to do it!). It would appear that real-life must be managed throughout this process. I'm looking forward to seeing how that works out.

Well...I'm off to look at my sketchbook. Happy Sunday!

deep breaths...

2010-09-05T20:40:00.000+01:00

Back to school, proper, tomorrow. A full week, all clubs a-go-go, pick ups and timetables arranged and ready to be conformed to. E's school is having a mini-clampdown on uniform. Apparently, socks printed with russian dolls are no longer allowed. Isn't there enough time in later life to conform. There's not much of a space in a girl's life when she can wear socks printed with anything. It seems such a shame. Perhaps they are far too distracting for other children. I think not. We are often told that the attention span of our children is shrinking faster than Cheryl Cole. If E's classmates noticed her socks, most likely they'd have noticed something else far more interesting thirty seconds later. I know I should be toe-ing (ha ha!) the line but sometimes, I think, there are bigger things to think about.

The Worker is very impressed with me today - not only have I completed our pre-visa waiver wotnot for our trip to the States, I now have a printed calendar on the fridge with all the clubs, pick ups (see above) listed. I don't know whether he's more impressed that I've managed to print it out on THE WORST PRINTER I'VE EVER BOUGHT or that its typed or that its on the fridge. I don't think it will help me be in any more organised but it makes me feel organised. Perhaps that's the secret.

We had indoor barbecue for supper. The sun was shining on Friday. I have learnt this summer that sun on Friday prompts the 'why don't we do a barbecue' question at about 3 o'clock on a Saturday afternoon. This week I took the opportunity to pre-empt the question and took a trip to Sainsbugs to ship in a few marinated bits and bobs. Needless to say, it's rained all day. Reader, I grilled them.

As I write the rest of my family are watching 'Invictus'. I can't bear it as Morgan Freeman gets on my nerves and I've never warmed to Matt Damon. Their presence combined with rousing, inspiring music has made me leave the bosom of my Sunday night, washed and fed family to blog a bit, about very little.

So...here are ten things to look forward to this week:

- getting some exercise every day (walking to school gets me out and about first thing, then there's swimming and Zumba later in the week)

- our monthly knitting meeting at our village pub

- buying my new supplies for college

- picking some of those lovely looking apples in the garden

- getting back to my knitting workshops and seeing who turns up

- promoting some beginners craft classes

- a girls get-together, probably on Thursday

- a trip to Bath for my birthday boots

- the anticipation of being back at college next week and starting a new endeavour

- getting some inspiration from someone who's on that road already

Enjoy the first week of September - get those pencils sharpened!

ten good things today....

2010-09-02T09:25:00.000+01:00

1. a sunny autumn morning walk with my dear friend, S

2. both kids back at school with shoes that fit and lunchboxes packed

3. lovely pair of new autumn brown boots promised for birthday by The Worker

4. off to artshop to buy new pencils and sketchbooks for college

5. haircut at 10.30am

6. toad in the hole for tea (with cauliflower cheese?)

7. reading Rose Prince's 'English Table' from the library and sticking post-its in my favourite recipes, am intrigued already by homemade barley water

8. almost at the end of the first half of Veronik Avery's transitional scarf (v. 2), am going to knit these for nieces for Christmas

9. the weatherman says summer is back at the weekend with highs of 24 degrees

10. 6 more sleeps until the new series of Madmen

can I get my boots on now?

2010-09-01T08:44:00.001+01:00

This is what I like to see - I'm an autumn girl. Give me a conker and a rusty-looking tree and I'm happy. I love the dew on the grass in the mornings, the drooping, drying herbaceous borders, the slowly shrinking days. I've booked the annual woodburner sweep and I'm already looking forward to lighting that fire and enjoying some winter time. We have three birthdays in the house before the end of November, a trip to Florida coming up and then it will be Christmas. I will most likely be on a real-life rollercoaster during the week that makes me spin - my birthday followed by the anniversary of losing my Dad is a bit of a knuckle-ride. I know he'll be cheering us all on from the designated smoking area in the sky as we spin on the teacups and scream down Thundermountain.

I digress - back to the boots....my summer-stressed toes are ready to hibernate. I need my stripy foot-tan to fade and despite my FitFlop conversion and this year's progress on the pedicure front, there's nothing quite like a pair of winter boots. I've seen the perfect pair and am currently justifying their purchase - brown, mid-heel, a little bit Karen Carpenter.

J has just gone back to school and E is still in bed. We're under a little pressure to have a lovely day as it's the last day of the holidays and she has a TD day. Various outings have been suggested, most of which seem to involve shopping. Neither of us are particularly well-off but my suggestions of bike rides and picnics are shrugged off as dull, barely worth a thought.

It could go either way...