A Christmas journey

With the festivities over for the first part Bertram decided there was time for a little mystery tour adventure before the hoopla of New Year's Eve so he caught a bus.

Jumping off at Bank he made his way to Liverpool Street station and caught the first train he saw.

Woohoo! Bertram found himself in Salisbury.

It was a bit damp and chilly but he tightened his bow and wandered off to explore.

First stop - Waitrose/John Lewis. Oh the delights that lay instore. Books, bedding, toys and tellys. Cakes, crisps, chardonnay and champers. It was a very pleasant hour wandering around examining just what it is the Brits buy.

Not quite a nice cup of tea but definitely time to stop for drink to boost the energy levels.

Unfortunately the people at the next table were making a terrible racket with that drum and bass noise young folk call music.

On reflection Bertram decided he quite liked this funky sound.

Within seconds he was busting some smokin' moves.

Go funky brown bear, go!

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This post today was made possible by the fabulous efforts of my lovely Swapper in Chookyblue's Secret Santa Swap 2009.

Not only did Pam actually make Bertram but she sent me these fabulous handmade delights as well.

A mahoosive bag that held all the loot I scored on Christmas Day. Pam's work is so beautifully pieced I am in awe. And then there was this gorgeous postcard. All made by her own fair hands. So talented.

As well as the three pieces pictured there was a whizzy piece of ric rac, a sweet Christmas ceramic box and nine 6" squares of seasonal fabric. I can't show you these right now because if I wasn't typing this I would be quilting the tablerunner I have made with them. Yay me!!!! Perhaps next post it will all be done and then you can see. If you get a second go visit Pam, she does beautiful work.

orthoganal eating

Judicious retreat

Princess Curly Wurly and CK are in discussion over where to place the new box shelves in her bedroom.

There are power tools, hammers and pointy screws lying within easy reach of both.

I have taken myself back downstairs and am going off to the dining room to hide behind the sewing machine.

Fingers crossed there will be peace by dinner.

Things we have learned in the last little bit.

Lesson.
There is a reason your mother said not to put pieces of Lego in your mouth.
Result.
Gratitude it was a stormtrooper's helmet rather than a sharp-edged brick.



Lesson.
Snipping threads on the inside of a pair of dotty, spotty tights is a bad idea.
Result.
Your mother spends the early part of Christmas morning painting said cut threads with clear nail polish.



Lesson.
Ensure Christmas parcels for posting are left higher than any assistant can reach.
Result.
International phonecall to golden s-i-l requesting clinical knowledge. Sharp eye kept on puppy for some hours to avert death. Remnants of attcked box of posh chocs tasted and enjoyed by household.



Lesson.
Baked ham glazed with maple syrup doesn't require that extra layer of sugar during that last 10 minutes of cooking.
Result.
Christmas head chef standing in smoke-filled kitchen doing his best to scrape molten burnt sugar from the base of a roasting dish 30 minutes before Christmas meal.

Trash Towers Christmas letter 2009 EDITED

**EDIT**

This letter was written after reading a round robin letter from a friend overseas. What follows is my reaction to the apparent whirlwind excitement of their lives. This post has been edited with this scene setting because a trusted reader/intermittent commenter informed that it reads in a happy perky kind of way when in reality I was a light shade of puce while typing. It would seem that 2009 saw the writers of this page live lives that were fulfilling socially, emotionally, financially, sexually, educationally, metaphysically and photographically. My response was to outline just how 'normal' life here is on the Hill and to that end I have included (with the exception of the first picture) images that are snaps anyone might have taken rather than posed images of loveliness.

I felt so much better at the end of writing this that by the time I got to the fourth and third last sentences I was in earnest again. People of the blog world you guys ROCK!

dear blog friends,

Ho, ho, ho - Santa is coming! Welcome to a round-up of 2009 at Trash Towers. We have had such a busy year doing so many things it is almost tricksy to know where to begin.

Let me start with birthdays - December 28 sees my assistant turning one and what an interesting first year it has been. We faced Spring with several many half-eaten shoes dotted around the house, this has been superseded by a passion for plastic and so now we tread carefully as shredded drink bottles are sharp on barefeet.

As for the rest of us, we have also had birthdays in 2009, each one finding us a year older.

CK has had a daily workload involving meetings and typing short and sharp responses to the apparent idiocy of others. On the up side he had his first solo blog date and refuses to go on any more stating 'Having started at the top it could only go down from here.'

His daily commute continues to involve the car and a bendy road. Traffic sometimes even consists of tractors chugging along causing up to 15 cars to snake along behind.

2009 has seen both children attend school nearly every
day except for holidays and weekends.

Princess Curly-Wurly's hair is even longer now than it was in January whereas (strangely) destructoBoy's is shorter!

I have continued my daily work at Trash Towers on a somewhat hit and miss basis, however I have been highly successful at avoiding cleaning and dusting although the ironing pile is actually threatening to take over downstairs.

Both children have forsworn regular bathing instead choosing the puppywash on irregular occasions. This has resulted in much giggling and also several pounds of potatoes behind the ears of each child.

What with the crappy weather and decaying old dog and all we did not actually manage to get away this year
so the Summer was spent hiding from the rain clouds and mahoosive amounts of precipitation. Eventually the weather cleared enough that we were able to walk the dogs sans wellies, brollies and raincoats and what a memorable afternoon that was.

2009 was the year Maria Juanita Conchita Gonzalez came into my life. I do love her. A lot. Even when there was an incident with late night train journeys, no mobile access and a flat battery I still LOVED her. So I guess this year has had some sunshine in it.

My overwhelming 'sunshiney, happy-heart spot' in 2009 (obviously after the crackers mob I call family, including hounds) has been this little blog space. Rather than blog-averse (seriously, not much is better than a good pun) I have had many an hour wandering through the blogosphere, reading, commenting, being both awed and inspired. Y'all work magic with words and pictures. Perhaps 2010 will see me attain these skills.

Wishing all y'all a Merry Christmas. May it be merry and bright.

Two reasons I may keep my girl even as teenagerdom looms.

* Last weekend we were helping the elf bomit Christmas over the hallway, Princess Curly-Wurly was in charge of thumbtack distribution. After several minutes she looked up at me and said
" Ha! I know who I am now." (really? I had no idea there was an existential crisis happening in your young mind. And why is that funny?)
Holding the tinsel in place with one hand I stretched out the other for a tack.
"Oh and who are you?"
Grinning she passed me a pin and said "I'm P-Dub Pin Laden!"

*Friday morning after the alarm went off too early Princess Curly-Wurly, along with my assistant, climbed into our bed. We lay there all warm and snuggled against the bitter cold outside, listening to the radio news. After a few minutes she turned to me and said
"You know what this B.A. strike really is don't you?"
"oh go on, do tell."
"It is the 12 Days OFF Christmas!!"

Like The Queen must think toilets always smell of fresh paint ....

... dentists must think everyone's mouth smells super minty fresh.

The real joy in presents.

I can now categorically state that now matter how much I love opening presents I actually love gifting the right something to the right someone even more.

December brings not just Christmas (Santa - Yay!!! Oh okay and some religious connotations but these need to be recognised as pre-Christian in origin. 'K Mama???) but also Sylv's birthday. It was hard enough coming up with a Christmas present for her (oh but we got a cracker!) as well as something to send her husband, Grandad (what happened to it is a whole other post) but then I had to think of a birthday present. As you may recall part of last year's Great Trip Home was to celebrate Sylv attaining the fine age of 'ahem-ty' and quite honestly she has no more need of anything. Please do not misunderstand me there is LOADS she wants (who doesn't??) but what?

Oh the delights of blog-hopping. I found just what I wanted at the delicious and divine Ink & Spindle . Last year Sylv got an uber-whizzy sewing machine, a quilter's delight by all accounts, and the fabulous collaboration between between Sooz and the I&S mob was just begging to be given a test drive. One click quick of the mouse, a brief diversion to Paypal and WHAM!! the gift was on its way.

Through a very crackly line last Sunday I told Sylv to watch out for a parcel from Melbourne, it contained her birthday present. I rang this a.m. to find if it had arrived yet.

"Oh! Was that from you? There was no label or anything but we have had a lovely time at sewing coming up with ideas for an outer fabric."

"Yes, it was from us - Happy Birthday!" (thinking 'I told you it was coming, you shouldn't have opened it yet!')

After explaining who Ink & Spindle were Sylv and I blog-shopped together, ooohing & aaaahing over the beautiful fabric patterns and colours. Choosing one as a favourite and then another. Suggesting, mulling and planning. With 12,000 miles between us (usually) over the last 20 years we haven't spent many hours shopping together so this morning was special. A lovely shared moment which left me feeling a little emotional. Not in a cry-y way but just with a lovely warm glow that I had introduced my mother to this lovely shop and she would get to choose something lovely to celebrate her 'ahem-ty-first' birthday.

Perhaps the ultimate Catch-22?

In the car on the way home from school on Friday destructoBoy said

"I don't like going up steep hills. Can we not drive up a hill to get home today?"

Right before schadenfreude* turns around and bites me in the arse.

On reflection I am beginning to think perhaps I have this Christmas thing sussed.

Don't get me wrong. Presents still need to be found (and identified for CK - aaak!) and cards written and actually sent. But this weekend we have hung lights, advent calender, shiny dangly accordion stylee decorations and tinsel.

I am not a particularly fussy type person, I think this is an accepted given, but I always decorate the Christmas tree.

For years the reason has been the kids were too young and some of the ornaments made when they were really little, these are just too fragile for all but the most tender touch. Truth? I claimed it as my own and defended my position valiantly. However this year the reins were passed across and now our Christmas tree and hallway look like an elf has bomited Christmas at high velocity.

For some reason they focussed on a single quadrant of the tree but it was done with discussion and suggestion rather than argument so I let them get on with it. The most heat came when trying to figure out whose angel was due to go on top this year. Next time I looked destructoBoy's 'staff of power' from last week's school play was firmly ensconced. Somewhat disconcerting as I type I must say.

It has been a real adventure opening the boxes of decorations, two years since we last had the opportunity. Obviously there was no point making the house all festive last year for my bastard b-i-l.

In all it was a (mostly) pleasant way of spending a weekend; once the house had been restored to some semblance of order it ended with all of us sitting together laughing our way through 'Elf'.







*schadenfreude ISN'T the word I want but the one I am after is rolling around on the edges of my consciousness. Anyone???

A-Z of things that make me happy. Part 2 of 26.

B is for Boys.

I love watching males of the species ina group.

I love how they laugh. I love their humour, their interaction with each other.

I remember attending mass as a teenager and whilst walking up to receive communion passing the choir (N side of the cathedral) and hearing the boys from the boarding school singing. It was like being hit by a wall of sound. Deep, tenor and bass sounds.

I watched 'The History Boys' last night. Oh how did it take me so long to actually see this? My eye was continually drawn to Jamie Parker. His face, his skin, the way he moved. It was confidence and self-possession. It was texture and shape. I realise it was a character he was portraying but would be more than happy to have my son take him as a role model.

I love watching my boy develop his male friendships. I love that he is still happy to walk hand-in-hand with his dad.

House SOS *EDITED*

My house seems to be falling down around my ears.

The plumber is here this morning fixing the duff cistern on the loo. And the really cool thing? My plumber is a girl! And I do mean a girl. She is about 16 and wears a hoody. But still - how cool!

The other bit is a hideous patch of damp has appeared in the top corner of d/Boy's bedroom. During yesterday's eight hour downpour I noticed it had grown. TG there is sunshine today or I think his bed may be under water by now. *le sigh* surely mine is the only house that would flood from the top down?!?!

Once the little girl plumber has gone I am off next door to see if they are having a similar problem.

We are off into our closest BIG town on Saturday to do Christmas shopping. I don't know why. The children are all sorted, I am more than happy with the delicious scarf I know nothing about but have stashed away in the present cupboard and CK is waiting to get his present in the sales. However on Saturday morning we shall head off with Pr. C-W's friend as our plus one and fight with everyone else to bring home stuff. Anyone got a phone number for Etsy??

**EDIT**Went next door to check whether they too were underwater and only DIYDad was home. Explained my query and by the time my sentence was done he was up onto the angled, slimy, moss-covered roof of the lean-to-kitchen and peering over to check the flashing above d/Boy's room (can you see where this is going?). All went well until halfway back to the wonky old ladder he slipped and left a DIYDad's bum-shaped hole in the roof.

Once I knew he was moving freely my guilt at his accident was allowed free rein. 'Let me go purchase whatever we need to fix this.' 'Buy stuff?' he said disappearing into his cavernous shed. 'Never!' Out came an extra ladder, two more hammers, a power saw, sheets of corrugated iron and sundry other tools. And thus began our race against time as Mrs Doyle (DIYDad's Missus) was expected home at three.

And so I spent the afternoon reroofing my neighbour's kitchen. Had I a video camera I could have made a fortune selling the result to the Health and Safety Executive as a 'how-not-to' instructional but there were a lot of laughs, a few scares, an awful lot of jiggery-pokery and only one falling off a ladder flat onto the ground.

Funnily enough when DIYDad offered to go and fix the flashing above destructoBoy's window my declining was swift and definite.

I need to go to bed now. My hip and arms ache.