Wednesday, November 30, 2011

NaBloPoMo 30: all the prompts

What is the last thing you do before bed?

Snuggle more under the covers and give Tom a kiss.

Describe an heirloom that has been passed down through generations of your family. What is its significance to you personally?

Coming from a family of hoarders, there's a few of these. I have a big chignon pin, possible tortoiseshell, with little cut glass stones around the curve that was from my Great Granny's house. She was the ultimate hoarder, and I think this hair pin could be Victorian.

We've also got some WW1 medals and memorabilia that was my Great Grandad's on my dad's side. He won a medal for bravery, but as he wasn't an officer, he wasn't mentioned in dispatches. There were other records, but these got bombed in WW2. These are very significant to me as they are one of the things that Dad and I especially are interested in, and one of these days we're going to go to the records in Kew, and do some research to try and find out what Grandad did to win his medals.

Do you like to buy presents ahead of time or right when you need to give them?

I like to buy presents ahead of time as I hate rushing around buying them. It also helps with spreading the cost alot. I'm pleased to report that most of the presents have been bought. I'm in charge of present buying in our house as Tom doesn't like doing it very much, and I think it's a fair swap for all the cooking he does.

Do you enjoy being alone? Would you rather be around other people?

I like both. I like a few days to myself, to listen to my music and bimble around. Thus I'm quite enjoying my working from home days as I get my fill of being alone. But I love people too, and get withdrawl symptoms when I've not done enough social things.


Write about a piece of music that changed your life forever. What do you feel when you hear it now?

The Misa Criolla by Ariel Ramierz
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZl8yMH5TLA?wmode=transparent]

I can't think of any song that especially changed my life, but this piece gave me a love of choral music, and another happy bond with my Dad. We'd play it really loud in the car so we could pick up the soft drum beats. It makes me feel alive, and brimming with possibilities. That's probably linked to all the times we were zooming off to pastures new with this as a soundtrack. Here's the Kyrie, but I urge you to listen to all of it.

I also love this cover of Paramore's Hallelujah by the Vitamin String Quartet

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81XL32QK1p8?wmode=transparent]

I first came across it on this video of dancing when I was looking for inspiration when I started dancing again:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sa_DQiVV6y8?wmode=transparent]

It's one of those pieces where I can just move to it, and see how I would dance to it. It's also very uplifting.

NaBloPoMo 30: all the prompts

What is the last thing you do before bed?

Snuggle more under the covers and give Tom a kiss.

Describe an heirloom that has been passed down through generations of your family. What is its significance to you personally?

Coming from a family of hoarders, there's a few of these. I have a big chignon pin, possible tortoiseshell, with little cut glass stones around the curve that was from my Great Granny's house. She was the ultimate hoarder, and I think this hair pin could be Victorian.

We've also got some WW1 medals and memorabilia that was my Great Grandad's on my dad's side. He won a medal for bravery, but as he wasn't an officer, he wasn't mentioned in dispatches. There were other records, but these got bombed in WW2. These are very significant to me as they are one of the things that Dad and I especially are interested in, and one of these days we're going to go to the records in Kew, and do some research to try and find out what Grandad did to win his medals.

Do you like to buy presents ahead of time or right when you need to give them?

I like to buy presents ahead of time as I hate rushing around buying them. It also helps with spreading the cost alot. I'm pleased to report that most of the presents have been bought. I'm in charge of present buying in our house as Tom doesn't like doing it very much, and I think it's a fair swap for all the cooking he does.

Do you enjoy being alone? Would you rather be around other people?

I like both. I like a few days to myself, to listen to my music and bimble around. Thus I'm quite enjoying my working from home days as I get my fill of being alone. But I love people too, and get withdrawl symptoms when I've not done enough social things.


Write about a piece of music that changed your life forever. What do you feel when you hear it now?

The Misa Criolla by Ariel Ramierz

I can't think of any song that especially changed my life, but this piece gave me a love of choral music, and another happy bond with my Dad. We'd play it really loud in the car so we could pick up the soft drum beats. It makes me feel alive, and brimming with possibilities. That's probably linked to all the times we were zooming off to pastures new with this as a soundtrack. Here's the Kyrie, but I urge you to listen to all of it.

I also love this cover of Paramore's Hallelujah by the Vitamin String Quartet

I first came across it on this video of dancing when I was looking for inspiration when I started dancing again:

It's one of those pieces where I can just move to it, and see how I would dance to it. It's also very uplifting.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Monday, November 28, 2011

NoBloPoMo 27+28 Out and about

Been gadding about again for meetings so am catching up now. So very nearly ready for our Christmas campaign.

Went to the advent carol service in the old church near my mum and dad's and brought the mother-in-law along with us. She and Tom's step-dad joined us for supper at my parent's afterwards. All seemed to go ok.

They'd shaken up the order of service slightly, for the better I think, but still with the hymns I've sung under candle light every year I can remember. When you're tiny the box pews were like a maze to prance along, trying to steal more mince pies during the refreshments after than your dad. He ate 8 in one evening there once. I only had one this year, and contented myself with catching up with all the grownups who've known me since I was knee high to a gnat.

It was also the warmest it's ever been at that service. I had to take my gloves off. Last year we trudged through snow and there was ice inside the windows. What a difference. We did have the second frost of the year today, my last rose in the garden shivering under a dusting of ice.

The lovely Amelia asked me "what is the best thing you have ever made?"

Again I can't answer in one. I loved the cake I made for Dad's birthday I made recently and the look on his face when he cut it open.

I loved the Clangers birthday cake I made for my mum with a blue buttercream craggy moonscape, and pink marzipan Clangers.

I like the oil pastel of my uncle and cousins, and the very large wax screenprint of dancers I made for my A level art course.

I like the dress I made with red silk bought all the way back from China, that doesn't fit any more but I can't bear to throw away because it's perfect, and the head piece I made to wear to my wedding, it's pearly wax petals having been in my grandmother's and mother's headpieces before mine.

I think I may love the gloves I knit for Tom the most, expressions of love made to wear out over time, even more so than socks because all of those tiny tubes for fingers and thumbs, ripped out and re knitted to fit over and over again, in the softest stripiest sock yarn.

 

NoBloPoMo 27+28 Out and about

Been gadding about again for meetings so am catching up now. So very nearly ready for our Christmas campaign.

Went to the advent carol service in the old church near my mum and dad's and brought the mother-in-law along with us. She and Tom's step-dad joined us for supper at my parent's afterwards. All seemed to go ok.

They'd shaken up the order of service slightly, for the better I think, but still with the hymns I've sung under candle light every year I can remember. When you're tiny the box pews were like a maze to prance along, trying to steal more mince pies during the refreshments after than your dad. He ate 8 in one evening there once. I only had one this year, and contented myself with catching up with all the grownups who've known me since I was knee high to a gnat.

It was also the warmest it's ever been at that service. I had to take my gloves off. Last year we trudged through snow and there was ice inside the windows. What a difference. We did have the second frost of the year today, my last rose in the garden shivering under a dusting of ice.

The lovely Amelia asked me "what is the best thing you have ever made?"

Again I can't answer in one. I loved the cake I made for Dad's birthday I made recently and the look on his face when he cut it open.

I loved the Clangers birthday cake I made for my mum with a blue buttercream craggy moonscape, and pink marzipan Clangers.

I like the oil pastel of my uncle and cousins, and the very large wax screenprint of dancers I made for my A level art course.

I like the dress I made with red silk bought all the way back from China, that doesn't fit any more but I can't bear to throw away because it's perfect, and the head piece I made to wear to my wedding, it's pearly wax petals having been in my grandmother's and mother's headpieces before mine.

I think I may love the gloves I knit for Tom the most, expressions of love made to wear out over time, even more so than socks because all of those tiny tubes for fingers and thumbs, ripped out and re knitted to fit over and over again, in the softest stripiest sock yarn.

 

Better image of the new hair

Hair

 

Straigh out the hairdressers - hard to keep it like this!

What's your favorite kind of fruit?

I love grapes - portable, tasty and you get to eat more than one.

Ask me anything

Saturday, November 26, 2011

New hair

1687944644

Not great but the best I can do

For my mum

16879446411687944619

For my mum

New hair

1687944644

Not great but the best I can do

NaBloPoMo 25+26

Gah, a second fail.

I have now got the shortest hair cur I've ever had in my life. No photos yet as I've not uploaded them yet. I feel swishy and grown up.

Work was manic yesterday, still not done, need to do some later today.

Currently at the mother in law's farm, providing tech support on various computers. Went to a village craft fair in a little church and watched a floristry demonstration. Especially like the versions of standard bay trees made up with winter foliage and flowers. Definitely making one for the doorstep this christmas, and if I'm doing your wedding flowers, I think they'd make fab table centres.

NaBloPoMo 25+26

Gah, a second fail.

I have now got the shortest hair cur I've ever had in my life. No photos yet as I've not uploaded them yet. I feel swishy and grown up.

Work was manic yesterday, still not done, need to do some later today.

Currently at the mother in law's farm, providing tech support on various computers. Went to a village craft fair in a little church and watched a floristry demonstration. Especially like the versions of standard bay trees made up with winter foliage and flowers. Definitely making one for the doorstep this christmas, and if I'm doing your wedding flowers, I think they'd make fab table centres.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

NaBloPoMo 24: Tired

Today was the first day of this job where I actually felt rushed of my feet. Interestingly though, it wasn't in a bad way. We've booked in a date for a lovely xmas do too.

Cracking headache now though. Probably due to dehydration and tiredness. Stayed up too late last night. Bizarrely, some of yesterdays work included making a pomander and taking step by step photos of the process. Will reveal all shortly.

Am off dancing tonight with Lula, Ruth and Olivia. Don't know if I will be able to keep my eyes open.

Hair cut tomorrow, am going to go much shorter as an experiment. Hold me to that, I always chicken out.

??

NaBloPoMo 24: Tired

Today was the first day of this job where I actually felt rushed of my feet. Interestingly though, it wasn't in a bad way. We've booked in a date for a lovely xmas do too.

Cracking headache now though. Probably due to dehydration and tiredness. Stayed up too late last night. Bizarrely, some of yesterdays work included making a pomander and taking step by step photos of the process. Will reveal all shortly.

Am off dancing tonight with Lula, Ruth and Olivia. Don't know if I will be able to keep my eyes open.

Hair cut tomorrow, am going to go much shorter as an experiment. Hold me to that, I always chicken out.

 

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

NaBloPoMo 23 thankful

Otg_2011_11_23_21_56_31

Today I am thankful for this beautiful sky I saw on my walk home from a very productive day working at my friends house.

[[Sent using 1000 gifts app for Android ]]

NaBloPoMo 23 thankful

Otg_2011_11_23_21_56_31

Today I am thankful for this beautiful sky I saw on my walk home from a very productive day working at my friends house.

[[Sent using 1000 gifts app for Android ]]

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Shared from 1000 gifts app for android

Otg_2011_11_22_22_56_28

A lovely husband, good food and love

[[Sent using 1000 gifts app for Android ]]

Shared from 1000 gifts app for android

Otg_2011_11_22_22_56_28

A lovely husband, good food and love

[[Sent using 1000 gifts app for Android ]]

NaBloPoMp 22: When the Night Comes

This evening we've had music pouring through the house rather than television. Eva Cassidy, Simon and Garfunkel, Manic Street Preachers, REM and now the Boomtown Rats. Tom and I have been painting the hall covering up white and scuff marks with light reflective cream. The magic ladder couldn't cope with our stairs so we taped brushes to poles to get into the high high corners. It's looking good. The new natural wood of the bannistair, the new brass door handles and the soft warm cream begging to be adorned with my photos and paintings.

Coming home earlier also means eating earlier, and more evening time, so we're getting loads done in the evenings, and eating better. Last night I wrote nearly all our Christmas cards, and wrapped the presents we've bought so far with Tom. Tonight I did lots of washing up as well as painting. We had posh Brinner or Breakfast for dinner tonight, and I made a rich beans in tomato sauce with chard, lemon and dill to go with the bacon, sausages and eggs. Last night was veggie night, and we had pumpkin with a cheese and garlic crust, kale and garlic mashed potatoes and white romanesco cauliflower. I love romanesco cauliflower. It's like eating the beauty of maths, fractals coming to life in plant form.

Sorry, nothing moving or grand to write tonight. Just wanted to get something down to keep it going. Go on, ask me a hard question for tomorrow.

 

 

NaBloPoMp 22: When the Night Comes

This evening we've had music pouring through the house rather than television. Eva Cassidy, Simon and Garfunkel, Manic Street Preachers, REM and now the Boomtown Rats. Tom and I have been painting the hall covering up white and scuff marks with light reflective cream. The magic ladder couldn't cope with our stairs so we taped brushes to poles to get into the high high corners. It's looking good. The new natural wood of the bannistair, the new brass door handles and the soft warm cream begging to be adorned with my photos and paintings.

Coming home earlier also means eating earlier, and more evening time, so we're getting loads done in the evenings, and eating better. Last night I wrote nearly all our Christmas cards, and wrapped the presents we've bought so far with Tom. Tonight I did lots of washing up as well as painting. We had posh Brinner or Breakfast for dinner tonight, and I made a rich beans in tomato sauce with chard, lemon and dill to go with the bacon, sausages and eggs. Last night was veggie night, and we had pumpkin with a cheese and garlic crust, kale and garlic mashed potatoes and white romanesco cauliflower. I love romanesco cauliflower. It's like eating the beauty of maths, fractals coming to life in plant form.

Sorry, nothing moving or grand to write tonight. Just wanted to get something down to keep it going. Go on, ask me a hard question for tomorrow.

 

 

1000 Gifts - Android Market

For future reference.

1000 Gifts - Android Market

For future reference.

Monday, November 21, 2011

NaBloPoMo 21: An ideal rainy day

Describe an ideal rainy day

I've had a few ideal rainy days. Earlier this year, Tom and I kitted up in waterproof trousers and macs, and went blackberry picking in the absolutely pouring rain on Southampton Common.

It was great. The common was deserted bar a few anglers, we were soaked through, we only got a few blackberries, but boy did we have fun. There's something so subversive about going, oh well, let's get on with it. John, you would have been proud.

I really enjoy the noise of really heavy rain as it drums on surfaces. Whilst we were on holiday in Wales this year, we had some rainy evenings when we curled up in our armchairs either side of a real fire as the rain came down. The noise is very soothing.

I also like waking up on a rainy day, when you know you have no reason to go outside, and you can lie snuggled up in your duvet, just listening to the rain. It's the same when you get a light shower when camping, the beating noise on the tent.

Nothing will beat the rainy camping trip I had with friends in the New Forest. We didn't get dry for the whole weekend, but it didn't stop us, not one bit. We cooked under brollies, and drank cider in the tunnel of tents. I want to go camping again now!

Summer rain is fantastic too. When you're out for a picnic or something and it just tips it down and it's warm and smells of cut grass. I love standing in summer rain letting myself get drenched, knowing you can go inside and towel off later, but right this minute, you're supposed to be in the rain. As Tom says, skin's waterproof.

 

 

NaBloPoMo 21: An ideal rainy day

Describe an ideal rainy day

I've had a few ideal rainy days. Earlier this year, Tom and I kitted up in waterproof trousers and macs, and went blackberry picking in the absolutely pouring rain on Southampton Common.

It was great. The common was deserted bar a few anglers, we were soaked through, we only got a few blackberries, but boy did we have fun. There's something so subversive about going, oh well, let's get on with it. John, you would have been proud.

I really enjoy the noise of really heavy rain as it drums on surfaces. Whilst we were on holiday in Wales this year, we had some rainy evenings when we curled up in our armchairs either side of a real fire as the rain came down. The noise is very soothing.

I also like waking up on a rainy day, when you know you have no reason to go outside, and you can lie snuggled up in your duvet, just listening to the rain. It's the same when you get a light shower when camping, the beating noise on the tent.

Nothing will beat the rainy camping trip I had with friends in the New Forest. We didn't get dry for the whole weekend, but it didn't stop us, not one bit. We cooked under brollies, and drank cider in the tunnel of tents. I want to go camping again now!

Summer rain is fantastic too. When you're out for a picnic or something and it just tips it down and it's warm and smells of cut grass. I love standing in summer rain letting myself get drenched, knowing you can go inside and towel off later, but right this minute, you're supposed to be in the rain. As Tom says, skin's waterproof.

 

 

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Little bit in love with this...

...bluegrass/country cover of Lady Gaga's 'Born this way'

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3euyb04XaUU?wmode=transparent]

Little bit in love with this...

...bluegrass/country cover of Lady Gaga's 'Born this way'

NaBloPoMo 20: Stir up Sunday

Today is Stir Up Sunday, when you traditionally make Christmas pudding. It's the last Sunday before Advent, the season of preparation and penitence before Christmas, and it's celebrated as Christ the King, looking at the power and majesty of God. The traditional collect or special daily prayer for this day is:

"Stir up, we beseech thee,

O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people;

that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works,

may of thee be plenteously rewarded;

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

 

The old wives tale is that old wives, hearing this collect, would be reminded that they needed to go home after church and stir up and make their Christmas puddings, giving the puddings time to mature over Advent, ready for Christmas.

So that's what I did after church today, having printed out hundreds of flyers and posters advertising the various events we're running, and done a spot of present shopping.

Here's our family recipe from my Great Auntie Peg:

ingredients

  • 2oz flour
  • 4oz breadcrumbs
  • 4oz brown sugar
  • 2oz sultanas
  • 4oz raisins
  • 4oz currants
  • 2oz candied peel
  • 1oz almonds
  • rind and juice of 1/2 orange or lemon
  • 1 sour apple, peeled and chopped
  • 1/2 tsp. mixed spice
  • 2-3 eggs
  • 2 tbsp whiskey

N.B. You can used mixed fruit

Method

  1. Put all the prepared fruit into a large bowl, all the other dry ingredients and mix thoroughly.
  2. Beat up the eggs and them, the orange/lemon and whiskey to the dry mix and bind together.
  3. Leave overnight.
  4. Turn into a well greased bowl and cover with greased paper then foil, tying tightly.
  5. Steam for 4 hours.
  6. When cold store in a dry place for several weeks.
  7. Steam for 2 hours before serving onto a hot dish with brandy butter


 

 

NaBloPoMo 20: Stir up Sunday

Today is Stir Up Sunday, when you traditionally make Christmas pudding. It's the last Sunday before Advent, the season of preparation and penitence before Christmas, and it's celebrated as Christ the King, looking at the power and majesty of God. The traditional collect or special daily prayer for this day is:

"Stir up, we beseech thee,

O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people;

that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works,

may of thee be plenteously rewarded;

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

 

The old wives tale is that old wives, hearing this collect, would be reminded that they needed to go home after church and stir up and make their Christmas puddings, giving the puddings time to mature over Advent, ready for Christmas.

So that's what I did after church today, having printed out hundreds of flyers and posters advertising the various events we're running, and done a spot of present shopping.

Here's our family recipe from my Great Auntie Peg:

ingredients

  • 2oz flour
  • 4oz breadcrumbs
  • 4oz brown sugar
  • 2oz sultanas
  • 4oz raisins
  • 4oz currants
  • 2oz candied peel
  • 1oz almonds
  • rind and juice of 1/2 orange or lemon
  • 1 sour apple, peeled and chopped
  • 1/2 tsp. mixed spice
  • 2-3 eggs
  • 2 tbsp whiskey

N.B. You can used mixed fruit

Method

  1. Put all the prepared fruit into a large bowl, all the other dry ingredients and mix thoroughly.
  2. Beat up the eggs and them, the orange/lemon and whiskey to the dry mix and bind together.
  3. Leave overnight.
  4. Turn into a well greased bowl and cover with greased paper then foil, tying tightly.
  5. Steam for 4 hours.
  6. When cold store in a dry place for several weeks.
  7. Steam for 2 hours before serving onto a hot dish with brandy butter


 

 

Saturday, November 19, 2011

NaBloPoMo 19: A Photo Post

Here are some piccies. My version of the Corrinne cardigan I made for Ruth as one of my 5 creative things this year, pictures from the confirmation service I went to at St Denys church, and the rainbow cake I made for my dad's birthday. I am now sat here with a sugar high from all the food colouring and buttercream.

NaBloPoMo 19: A Photo Post

Here are some piccies. My version of the Corrinne cardigan I made for Ruth as one of my 5 creative things this year, pictures from the confirmation service I went to at St Denys church, and the rainbow cake I made for my dad's birthday. I am now sat here with a sugar high from all the food colouring and buttercream.

P1020735P1020734P1020744P1020742P1020740P1020739P1020738P1020737P1020747P1020748P1020749P1020752P1020751P1020750

Friday, November 18, 2011

NaBloPoMo 18 : Marge the Barge

Walking home from the docs today (routine check up, no worries) I saw Marge the Barge was for sale at the little boat yard by Cobden Bridge. Shall we buy her and go on an adventure.

NaBloPoMo 18 : Marge the Barge

16879446181687944617

Walking home from the docs today (routine check up, no worries) I saw Marge the Barge was for sale at the little boat yard by Cobden Bridge. Shall we buy her and go on an adventure.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

NaBloPoMo 17: Favourite food

Mr Hunt asks "What is your favourite meal?"

This is as hard as choosing my favourite recipe. So rather than thinking back to a particular meal, I'm going to craft my dream meal.

I would start with myself, Tom, some lovely friends, dressed up to the nines. A comfortable rural localtion.

We would start with a spread of olives, cold meats, smoked salmon, hummus, and lots and lots of champagne. There would be chatting and laughing and music.

Then we would move on to a selection of starters, a duck terrine, something with smoked salmon, and a beetroot and goat cheese salad. There would be more champagne. I love champagne.

For a main, we would have a large piece of a forerib of beef, roasted to a medium on the edges and a blue in the middle, with dauphinoise potatoes, sprouting broccoli, and because I can magically control seasons in this post, asparagus covered in buttery hollandaise.

To wrap up, a light dessert, perhaps a trio of fruitysorbets followed by a massive and varied cheese board and grapes and apple slices. And port, plenty of port.

I would finish my evening drinking champagne, bursting at the seams from all the cheese and dancing, talking and laughing into the night.

 

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

NaBloBoPo16: Why?

The glorious Mr. Segall asked: why did you study history at university? Or, why did you focus on your focus?

I don't really remember my exact reasons for why I chose to study history at uni. I do remember combing through the prospectuses in the little resources cubby hole of a room the in the sixth form centre at school. I was looking for unis that fell a certain distance away from home. Close enough to get home to the then boyfriend, far away enough from home to feel like I was going to be living my own life.

I wasn't doing the most sensible A levels. History, french, art and dance. The careers advice at my school wasn't great, I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life, and so I just picked the things I liked best. I had a whale of a time studying them too. Art in particular felt like the last chance to do something I love at a very high level and I suppose picking History for university was partly like that too. When else was I going to have access to printing presses and acid for etching?

I've just re-read some of my blog entries from 2004, when I was waiting to hear from universities about places and it's slightly scary how different I am 7 years on. In part, age 17, I picked history because it was the only nearly sensible and useful subject out of my A levels. I did consider french for a while, but in all honesty, my french was never as good as my history, and I don't like to do things I think I will fail at.

I also think I picked it because I loved it. I loved reading about why things are the way they are and drawing parallels to the present. I loved escaping to another place and immersing myself in that world. There were a few essays I wrote in sixth form where we learnt about referencing and I enjoyed the landscape of interconnected footnotes that bring even more knowledge as you read.

When I arrived at university, I was convinced I was going to be a modern historian as that's what I'd enjoyed at school, and where all the important work would be being done. However, my plans were scuppered when one of the modern courses, I think Victorian Childhood, was over subscribed and I ended up on Early Jewish Magic.

And that was that, I was hooked. It was only pre 200AD or Jewish history courses for me. Compared to my courses on The First World War and the Russian Revolution it was gripping.The anthropology, the history of religion, of ethics, of magic, of Hebrew, of Jewish culture. It was a new and entirely alien world to explore. I loved it.

I liked having a focus that was different from most of my fellow history students. It meant less fighting over book, more contact time with staff and a feeling of uncovering secrets. I also liked the multidisciplanry opportunities it offered. I wrote about feminism, hasidic women in New York, magic bowls, blogging, and modern politics all within the context of Jewish history.

The specifics haven't proved useful in the job market, but the skills have. The most useful? Being able to argue a point well, being able to pull together useful research and being able to manipulate search engines to find the exact results needed.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

NaBloPoMo 15: Favourite places

Describe a favorite place. Focus on how that place affects your sense of taste, touch, sight, sound, or smell.

I have more than one favourite place of course. It's extremely hard to choose. So here's just one snapshot. Let me know if you know where I am.

I walk through the grand courtyard, tourist eating sandwhiches on the low stone walls either side. There's that touristy hum of voices, pigeons cooing and the slapping of feet on stone.

I always get a shiver looking up at the statues of classical ideals on the facade, climbing the grand steps up to the door. And slipping through the large pillars, ignoring the donation box, I stand in the grand hallway and let soft red and golds and mosaics caress my eyes.

Then it's gently on into the grand white space, the sunlight streaming down through architectural magic, noises like in the swimming pool or the shopping centre. Bustle, hustle, bustle. People shopping, people laughing, grand scupltures becoming meeting points.

But I'm not here long, I'm off through a side door, the smell of light dust and many people receeding into the cool and calm of a not as popular space. Still light, still airy, but smaller, the new room full of grand glass cases.

And there it is, not as grand as you'd think, but something I can just about read after a few years study, full of promise and excitement. An account that colloborates and contradicts the famous account, but makes me want to read more.

Monday, November 14, 2011

NaBloPoMo 14: Goat

Well today I got up a bit late, but happily made up the time on the
way to work. Work was busy but in a good way. I was very productive
and got to learn a bit more about the world of radio advertising. This
isn't something I've been involved with before, so I found it really
interesting. After work, I scurried home to pick up the cardigan I had
knitted for Ruth, gave Tom a kiss, and then set out for Ruth and
James' for roast leg of goat.

Sadly, there was a large accident in Fareham, which meant I spent an
hour trying to get across to the other side to reach Ruth and James,
and poor Oli and Harvey didn't get to see me bar a quick hug when I
arrived. I did have a nice cuddle and chat with baby Arthur, and the
roast goat was lovely. Ruth seemed to like her cardigan very much
indeed, so that was good all round really.

I'm please to report that although Laura had a mishap with her new
knitting and unravelled it all, she's managed to teach herself how to
cast on, and has 36 rows. I'm very proud indeed.

I'm not so proud of my church at the moment. It's managed to project
at £16 deficit next year before the £80k of desperately needed roof
repairs. So I'm off now to research viable fund-raising ideas, and try
not to feel too miserable about. Bloody material culture.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Na Blo Po Mo 13: Nothing much

Nothing much to write today, church, housework, knitting, whilst Tom
stripped our bannister of white gloss paint. Roast pork with the
trimmings for dinner tonight. Irrationally grumpy.

Let's find a prompt shall we? (On a side note, if there's anything in
particular, dear reader, that you'd like me to write about, please
tweet it, leave a comment, email etc...)

From George, over a year ago:

Take your favourite recipe, and make it read beautifully.

My favourite recipe? Now that's a hard one. For a foodie, I don't
enjoy cooking all that much. It stresses me out, and I find it
somewhat boring. If I had my way, I would fill the fridge with
delicious things that could be nibbled upon cold, with a glass of
champagne. Cold meats, olives, cheese, vegetables already cut into
crudités.

However, a recipe. I think the recipe below is probably my favourite
because it never fails to impress. Need to take something as a thank
you gift to a hostess? This is it.

Snow flecked brownies. Well actually, I think white chocolate is a
waste of space, not having any cocoa in it, so we will call them
'Death  - on - plate - but - worth - it Brownies.'

Ingredients

To make the most of making this dish, one should select one's
ingredients from the kind of shop that makes one feel happy. For the
author, this is the worker's co-op of middle class pretensions,
Waitrose. A happy cook makes happiness inducing food, and happy
ingredients even more so.

375g of Divine dark chocolate or other fairly traded chocolate so that
your deadly brownies can be happy knowing that the workers involved in
their produce got a fair wage.
375g salted butter at room temperature at least. I like salted butter
as it adds tang to the sweetness, and I cut it in to chunky cubes to
aid with melting.
1 tablespoon real vanilla extract, or fake if you're cheating. Who has
the cash to buy the real thing when you're spending on chocolate? To
be honest, I normally forget about this bit. It's probably not needed
if you're not using the horror of horrors, white chocolate.
6 eggs from the happiest of hens
400g sugar, preferably golden caster, again fair trade or from British
sugar beet.
1 teaspoon salt
225g plain flour
250g dark chocolate, roughly chopped into chunks
baking tin measuring approx 33cm x 23cm x 5.5cm

METHOD

How to cook the brownies that are a heart attack on a plate, but melt
in the mouth and fabulous. These make a great dessert at a party,
especially when served with champagne.

1.Preheat the oven to 180C/Gas 4/350F.

2.Line your pan with greaseproof paper, or like me, use a silicon pan
to avoid faffing with paper and make washing up easier.

3.Melt the butter and dark chocolate together in a large heavy based
pan, stirring constantly to stop it burning. Try to stop yourself from
eating the dark glossy gorgeousness at this point.

4. Turn the chocolate butter mix off. In a bowl or wide mouthed large
measuring jug, beat the eggs with the sugar and vanilla.

5.Let the chocolate mixture cool a bit before, and then beat in the
eggs and sugar. The cooling is important to stop you getting chocolate
scrambled eggs, but I normally chuck it all in fairly quickly. Never
had any touble.

6.To stop making even more bowls dirty, measure the flour and the salt
into the saucepan, and beat in until smooth. Again, stop trying eat
the mixture.

7.Finally fold in the shards of dark chocolate. Scrape out of the
saucepan into the pan. Bake for about 25 mins. or until the top has a
dry rather than glossy looking top. Whilst it's baking find someone to
lick the saucepan out for you, as you will be feeling sick from all
the mixture you've already eaten.

8.The brownies are ready, when the top is dried to a paler brown not
glossy texture,, but the middle is dark and dense and gooey still;
remember that they will continue to cook as they cool.

9. If you're feeling really fancy, serve with a snowy topping of icing
sugar. You probably won't want to share.

The original:

This recipe is taken from the Christmas Special of Nigella Bites.
Nigella says: "Christmas food is the best sort of food because it's
about proper, unpretentious home cooking. Feasting isn't about
formality: it's about providing friends and family with good things to
eat."

Ingredients

375g best quality dark chocolate
375g unsalted butter at room temperature at least
1 tablespoon real vanilla extract
6 eggs
350g sugar
1 teaspoon salt
225g plain flour
250g white chocolate buttons, preferably Montgomery Moore, or just
chop same amount of good white chocolate
tin measuring approx 33cm x 23cm x 5.5cm

METHOD

How to cook snow-flecked brownies

1.Preheat the oven to 180C/Gas 4/350F.

2.Line your brownie pan base and sides.

3.Melt the butter and dark chocolate together in a large heavy based pan.

4.In a bowl or wide mouthed large measuring jug, beat the eggs with
the sugar and vanilla.

5.Measure the flour into another bowl and add the salt.

6.When the chocolate mixture has melted let it cool a bit before
beating in the eggs and sugar, and then the flour.

7.Finally fold in the white chocolate buttons. Beat to combine
smoothly and then scrape out of the saucepan into the lined pan. Bake
for about 25 mins.

8.The brownies are ready, when the top is dried to a paler brown
speckle, but the middle is dark and dense and gooey still; remember
that they will continue to cook as they cool.

© Nigella Lawson, Nigella Bites - Chatto & Windus, 2001

(Incidently, Nigella wrote what I consider to be the best named recipe
ever. Massacre in a Snow Storm, an eton mess type dish made with
pomegranate. Think about it.)

Saturday, November 12, 2011

NaBloPoMo 12: All the things

After blogging last night, Abi and Lula appeared, as they were off to the pub with Ben, Laura, Marmers and Twinkle, but had arrived from Pompey early. They stayed and chatted until Tom and I had to go off to a church meeting.

This meeting was about a Christmas service that's going to be held in the new community service at Townhill Park. We brainstormed ideas, got a rough layout down, and when our rumbling stomachs couldn't take it any more, we trundled off to join the others at the pub.

The rain showers meant we sat inside, rather than our normal habit of crowding around the Oink horse box. Nearly typed pork box then. A much better name. The lovely Giles bought our food up to us, and Tom and I enjoyed basamic hog roast buns a piece, and a portion of mushroom and parmesan risotto to share.

For some reason I wasn't really feeling the pub, and the topic of conversation got on to pancakes. So I suggested we went home and cracked out the Pancake Party for Six by King d'Home that Tom's dad gave us for Christmas last year. This is large teflon coated, electric griddle with small circular indentations, 6 spatulas, and a ladle. All you need for a pancaking good time. Ben and Marmers were dispatched to the corner shop for supplies, and I set about teaching Laura to remember what she could about being able to knit.

I had to give up on teaching her how to cast on - a first for me, but we soon had her knitting and purling again. In fact, she was such a good student that I skipped the knit a boring square part of learning to knit, and got her knitting the very item that had piqued her interest in knitting again, my ear warmer headband thingy. That's knitting, purling, increases and decreases. Not bad for a first re-knitting lesson. If any one else wants knitting lessons, please shout.

When the ingredients arrived,  I was summoned away from the knitting lesson to make pancake batter, and pancakery ensued. We gathered quickly that thinner spreads of batter, french crepe style, lead to much better pancakes. Marmers smothered his in trifle as you are wont to do, and I stuck to just lemon. Ben experimented with shape and form, including spirals and spiky haired pancakes. The height of my artistic endeavours for the evening went as far as using the ends of a ladle-ful to make a tadpole/sperm shaped tiny pancake.

Having eaten their fill, the lads ended up playing Wii games whilst Laura and I continued our knitting lesson in some horribly gender stereotyped moment. But hey, at least we were all enjoying ourselves.

Today, I enjoyed a long lazy lie in interrupted by bouts of nonchalantly reading my paperback, and lunch with Amy at Port Solent. It was very nice to catch up with her. We realised how long it had been since her last meeting when I commented on what I thought was her new hair colour, a lovely chocolatey brunette - the last time I saw her she was blonde! I drove into Southampton on my way home to do some Christmas shopping, particularly for Tom, as otherwise I won't have a shopping chance without him in tow. It wasn't a very successful trip, as most of the other items I wanted weren't available. Oh and Verity, Vicky on behalf of Max, and Ruth on behalf of Harvey if you're reading, please can you let me know want you want for Xmas?

When I got in, Tom was out buying ingredients for this evening's curry feast. We had peas with cumin, ginger and lemon, cannellini bean curry, dhal, and punjabi lamb. All amazing!

Since dinner I've been working on posters for the church Christmas events, the church website, and submitting the events to online events directories. Bit too close to work for my liking, but there you go. I shall go back to my wine now.

Friday, November 11, 2011

NaBloPoMo 11: Remembering

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It's remembrance day today. I had a training session at Sandham Memorial session, and was invited to come early to attend the rembrance service. This chapel has fantastic murals painted by Stanley Spencer and was built in the 1920s as a memorial to a solider, Lieutenant Henry Willoughby Sandham. Sandham fought in the same Macedonian campaign as Spencer.

The images are startling and disturbing, and I adore the main image of the resurrection when soliders are climbing out their graves and carrying their grave crosses away. Christ is a tiny figure in the top of the painting, sat down, collecting the crosses from the soldiers as they pass by. I love the fact that Christ is in the midst, a friend, not a triumphant warrior king.

The service had a moment where we were asked to write our prayers on poppies. The end of the service was conducted outside where we hung our poppies on one of the trees, and then sang our final hymn.

I prayed for peace. I've been wearing my white poppy and my red poppy together like last year. A red one to show my thanks to those who fought for my freedom, and a white one to show my commitment to a peaceful future.

 

 

 

 

Thursday, November 10, 2011

What was your best subject at school?

Art or Dance or Drama. Or History.

Ask me anything

NaBloPoMo 10: Grey mist rising

Today I drove to Oxfordshire for a training session with a volunteer at an estate office in a quaint and lovely village.

I got only lightly lost, right at the end of the journey, only one turning away, but it didn't make me late, so that's ok.

It went really well, and I was complemented on my training style. I really enjoy the training component of my job. It's rewarded seeing someone get excited by the possibilities of all they could do.

I also noticed today how driving has become second nature to me, which is a good thing I suppose. I don't think anything of slip roads, roundabout and motorways. I'm not enjoying it mind, it's just a thing I do.

The grey morning mist along the A34 was entrancing this morning, like a neutral wash on canvas for the flaming colours of the leaves on the trees that line the road. Fabulous.

I got home mid afternoon and got stuck into my piles of proofreading, and when Tom got in, we went off for some more DIY shopping. M&S sucked us into their Two can dine for £10 offer. We'll see how that works out. Some fishy thing, garlic mushrooms, chocolate mousse millionaire shortbreads, and Tom turning his nose up at the wine option, posh orange juice.

So let's have the real writing of the day:

What is your secret (or not-so-secret) passion?

Passion. It's a strong word. Obviously. My not so secret passions are fairly obvious, no? Dancing, I love dancing, I love how it makes me feel vibrant and alive and happy and strong and me. Knitting, I love the magical creation of fabric from sticks and string, and the hum and the harmony of it swishing through hands. I especially enjoy knitting socks and baby hats, simple tubular things with minimal sewing up. (LeeMee, your gloves are done and just need to be posted. Sorry for not being organised!)

I love art. I suppose I'm drawn to colour, intricate surface design and the promise of capturing emotion for ever. I enjoyed my trip to the Afghan exhibition with Cecil and Tom because Cecil bought out the muso in me, and we discussed the pieces both for their artistic and historic merit.

I love entertaining. I like the rush before, getting the house ready, dreaming up the perfect dish and the perfect drink, and then the mad whirl as people arrive, and that glorious moment, normally after the main course, and fuelled by wine, where people start really talking to one another. Sitting surrounded by friends and laughing, laughing, laughing together.

But secret passions? I think I wear my heart on my sleeve too much! Ok. A guilty, dirty pleasure - I love squeezing blackheads. Mine or someone elses. Disgusting I know, but there's nothing more satisfying. I even have one of those metal tools that the beauticians use to get really stubbourn ones. I know it hurts, but I think that when you see the really deep blackened ones on old men it's horrid! Get them while you're young folks, and keep hydrated to make removing them easier.

Another love, much less disgusting, is fashion. You may not be able to tell this from the lack of fashionable clothes in my wardrobe, and the fact I rarely wear make up these days. However, I love the thrill of dressing up, and the pleasure I derive from textiles in general means I take real pleasure from the feel and texture of silk scarves, or good quality woollen coats. I like playing with colour, and seeing how shapes work on people. It's art but on the human form for me.

But a passion? Something consuming, that I love to dream of, work towards, evangelise about? I suppose it's people really. It ties in with my love of entertaining. I'm passionate about getting people to eat together and get to know each other. I dream of community and deep friendships, and acts of love. There is nothing I can think of that is more sustaining and joyous than that.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

NaBloPoMo 9: One of these things is not like the other

When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes?

The earliest memories of what would be my childhood home growing up are of playing shop in the front room, my wares spread out over an old chest. Looking over the room I can see a piano and book cases and a sewing machine and a lovely roll top desk.

And there's papers and bags of things and ornaments spilling out from every corner.

Or memories of sat with my legs under the coffee table, some woolly cardigan on, eating cheese and carrot, watching Seasame Street having come home from playschool.

I know that I noticed when we went to friends houses for tea that they didn't have art on all the walls, and their houses had playrooms so toys and craft materials didn't appear in every room all over the place. And they had large swathes of carpet for running on.

As I grew up, I noticed that other people didn't have mounds and mounds of books everywhere, that other people didn't have cases and cases of dressing up clothes and a cupboard under the stairs that could give up a perfect sparkly ribbon or pearlescent paint for a craft project.

As a teenager, I noticed some people's homes didn't actually feel homely.

As an adult, I notice that other people don't have 1.5 walls of their spare room devoted to bookcases, and manage to put things away. And be tidy.

So, I am my parent's daughter. I delight in art and colour and clutter. Fortunately I am strict enough to tidy somethings away.

As I've blogged before, I am what I am because of these experiences. I can't find it now, but on an older blog post, I had a picture of my family at Christmas dinner and you can see the swirly whirl of colours and posters and art that made me.

 

** edit, found the picture

 

NaBloPoMo 9: One of these things is not like the other

When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes?

The earliest memories of what would be my childhood home growing up are of playing shop in the front room, my wares spread out over an old chest. Looking over the room I can see a piano and book cases and a sewing machine and a lovely roll top desk.

And there's papers and bags of things and ornaments spilling out from every corner.

Or memories of sat with my legs under the coffee table, some woolly cardigan on, eating cheese and carrot, watching Seasame Street having come home from playschool.

I know that I noticed when we went to friends houses for tea that they didn't have art on all the walls, and their houses had playrooms so toys and craft materials didn't appear in every room all over the place. And they had large swathes of carpet for running on.

As I grew up, I noticed that other people didn't have mounds and mounds of books everywhere, that other people didn't have cases and cases of dressing up clothes and a cupboard under the stairs that could give up a perfect sparkly ribbon or pearlescent paint for a craft project.

As a teenager, I noticed some people's homes didn't actually feel homely.

As an adult, I notice that other people don't have 1.5 walls of their spare room devoted to bookcases, and manage to put things away. And be tidy.

So, I am my parent's daughter. I delight in art and colour and clutter. Fortunately I am strict enough to tidy somethings away.

As I've blogged before, I am what I am because of these experiences. I can't find it now, but on an older blog post, I had a picture of my family at Christmas dinner and you can see the swirly whirl of colours and posters and art that made me.

 

** edit, found the picture

 

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

NaBloPoMo 8: Trauma

As today has been another worky worky day, and we're out tonight at a church meeting, I'm going to write from the official NaBloPoMo prompt for the day.

Has anything traumatic ever happened to you? Describe the scenes surrounding a particular event.

There have been a few traumatic events in my life, as I suppose there are for anyone.

Most of mine seem to circle around health issues of some kind.

When I was very small, I had my tonsils out, and I have vivid memories of nightmares I had about being put to sleep by the anesthetist where I would struggle and struggle as I thought I'd never wake up. Very traumatic. I am pleased to report the operation went well, after all, I'm still here.

More recently my traumas have stemmed from dodgy female parts. In my last year of uni, an ovarian cyst flared up just as I was about to take my finals. You know how pain can have a texture? Sometimes it is sharp, sometimes it is dull, somtimes it is stabbing?

This pain had a texture like nothing else I have known. It was stabbing but almost granular, and radiating from deep to shallow. It made me nauseous and it was just awful. Fortunately, they didn't have to operate on it, but the cocktail of pain killers they gave me completely strung me out. I was talking nonsense. When Tom took me into uni to get me signed off as I was in no fit state to take my exams, they were all for me taking them as I was there already. Until I rambled something at the member of staff, and Tom said to them " That didn't make any sense to me. What about you?" and suddenly they were all no, ok, postpone it.

The most recent trauma was last summer when I had an ectopic pregancy, which ended in me losing a fallopian tube. There I wrote it. You don't know how hard it is for me to be upfront and say it. But I'm going to write about it

I had been suffering with extended stomach ache and heavy bleeding for a few weeks, which given I had a copper coil fitted wasn't completely unusual, but it had just been getting worse and worse. I was grinning and bearing it, as in my last job, I had to take holiday to go to the doctors, and I didn't have much holiday left. Stupid me.

But on that day at work, I went to the loo, and when I tried to stand up I thought I would faint from the pain. It was the exact same texture as the pain from the cyst but hundreds of times worse. I made my excuses from work and called Tom to pick me up as I could barely walk. I am grateful that at the time he'd just finished his Chaplaincy job and so was around. I don't know what I would have done other wise.

He took me to what we thought was drop in centre in the city centre hospital as it was closest. Turned out in the time since we'd last been there, it had turned into a minor injuries unit, but as the receptionist had admitted me, we stayed rather than going to A and E. I sat swimming in and out of the pain, surrounded by sprained ankles and wounds.

I have to say, normally I'm a big fan of the nursing profession, but one of the nurses at the minor injuries unit provided me with the worst care I've experienced. She was rude and dismissive in manner, and belittled us for coming there rather than to our GP or A and E. She seemed to take no account of the fact that I was in huge amounts of pain and that we were scared and not sure what to do.

There was another nurse there fortunately, and she was a bit kinder. They fed me some painkillers, and made me do a urine sample, asking if there was any chance I could be pregnant. We said no, as I had a coil fitted, but the sample came back positive, and then my memories get a bit more hazy. I think the kinder nurse said some words about how this must be a shock and to take some time and some deep breaths and so on. They made me a doctors appointment at my GP for later that day.

I suppose one of the real traumas of this was sitting there at home waiting for the appointment talking through what it meant to be pregnant in this situation with Tom. It was a complete shock, I thought I'd taken all proper precautions, went for long term contraception as it was supposed to be better, non - hormonal as it suited me better and so on. The shock of being one of the tiny stats in the leaflet was hard. We knew a pregancy with a coil in place is often not viable, but after much mulling and talking and crying we decided that if it was viable we'd keep it. It would have meant a lot of financial hardship and being pregnant at our wedding but if it could survive the coil removal then it would clearly be meant to be. But really it was waiting to see what happenned. It certainly didn't feel real.

As it happenned, the lovely doctor at my GPs examined me, which hurt immensely, decided it was serious and packed me off to the Princess Anne hospital. It was traumatic to be on the general women's ward, the patients a combination of pregnant women, and those with gynacological problems like me. As I was swinging between wanting to be pregnant and not wanting to be pregnant it was hard to see other pregnant women.

I don't remember much about my hospital stay, as I was on lots of painkillers. I remember Tom staying with me for as long as he could, and having to face his own trauma of phoning my parents to say I was pregnant and in hospital. I remember increasingly serious members of hospital staff coming to check on me as it all looked more serious and they needed to operate on me. I remember Tom kissing me goodbye just before I went into the operating theatre, and the kind older nurse who put blankets over my legs as I was so so cold waiting for surgeons to be ready.

When I came to, I couldn't bend at my waist was bloated from the gas they'd used to blow up my stomach to use for the keyhole surgery and had three new tiny scars to add to my appendix scar. I think I stayed in hospital for another two days, and my dad came down to see me, I can't remember if that was before or after, it was all a blur. When I came home, I sat on the sofa alot, and fortunately, we'd already agreed to go to see Tom's dad in France, so I had a week of recuperating in French sunshine reading and moving slowly. Sleeping on the ferry over there was dreadful mind.

In removing the ecoptic pregancy, they had to remove one fallopian tube, which has reduced my fertility around by around 30%. Apparently the remaining tube will waft across to catch the egg from which ever ovary fires that month. We laugh and joke that I managed to get pregnant around a coil, so we must be super fertile, so it won't matter if we want children going forward.

But the trauma is that the choice has been taken out of my hands somewhat. I don't know how my body will react if we decide to have children naturally going forward or even if I'll be able to have any at all. I have an increased likelyhood of another ecoptic pregnancy.

I also mourn the potential of a child that never was. It never had a chance, even if it wasn't planned, and wasn't really wanted, it was something for a while. If it had been viable, I would have a 7 month old baby now. It was a something made of me and Tom, and it never was anything. It hurts that I didn't choose to be pregnant, didn't choose not to be pregnant, and can't make an easy decision going forward.

 

 

 

 

Monday, November 07, 2011

NaBloPoMo 7: Worky worky work

Today's entry is bought to you by the letter W for work. I dragged my sorry earache out of bed, drove the wrong way to work and got stuck in the traffic at North Baddesley.

I worked on proofreading, stats and much much else. It was pretty chilly in the office, so I was grateful for the heavy typing to keep my fingers warm.

The day pretty much flew by, and after a gentle warm dark drive home, I got stuck in to domesticity with Tom.

We made a goulash, popped it in the oven, filled the dishwasher and trundled off to the delights of Hedge End retail park to return too small curtain hooks, buy paint, paint stripper, bannistair brackets, new door handles, batteries and so on.

What exciting lives we lead...

Though we both decided lime green and gold Christmas decorations look excellent.

Sunday, November 06, 2011

NaBloPoMo 6: Sundays

We had a gentle lie in this morning, and rushed to church with John, just making it in on time. I wore my rainbow skirt and my new dogstooth shoes and felt suitably brightly coloured. A couple of people complimented me on my flower arranging which was nice. It was all age service, and Graham, the curate, read Badgers Parting Gifts, a lovely bittersweet story to help children make sense of death. A few of us grown ups were shedding a couple of tears by the end.

We rushed back for a roast chicken lunch, followed by a pear frangipan tart John's mum had sent down for us.

After dinner, the lads measured the loft space above the kitchen and insulated it, whilst I unpicked and re-knitted the top and bottom of the hat I made Tom a few months ago. Last night, it's nipple-esque top and the fact it was far too short was irritating. So to borrow John's phrase, I anti knitted it, using scissors to cut out the cast on edge, and knit another inch or so to the end to make it longer, and knitted in a much flatter top. I'm pleased to report it looks much better now.

After waving goodbye to John mid afternoon, and having a catch up chat with one of the neighbours, I helped with the tv aerial project by nailing in cable ties to the wall to keep the cable tidy. I quite like playing with hammers. Tom was trying to fit his new fog lights, so I found myself playing torch holder and car look out as his fished around under the car in the middle of the road. As it got darker and colder, I amused myself by watching fireworks emanating from the gardens of nearby houses.

Tom had to give up in the end due to lack of light and work space, so we retired inside. I've been making a start on my final knitting project of the year,chatting to mum on the phone and watching River Cottage on 4oD, until Tom reminded me I've been saying I'd cut his hair for him for weeks and weeks.

For some reason cutting Tom's hair gives me the willies. I think because I have to live with the result, and his opinion is probably the only one that matters. Still I manned up aftera suitable amount of complaining and he's sat here looking suitably shorn.

If only I could get rid of this blasted cold that seems to have turned into ear ache. It's bloody painful.

I shall leave you with some more pictures. Church today, last nights fireworks, exciting romanesco cauliflower and some of the awesome places I have visited for work.

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