OK Blogoverse, I need your advice.

Things have progressed apace since I posted this. Not in a good way. Being in responsible, yet obviously funky, mama mode I explained to the children that Grandad wasn't going to get well. Princess C-W eyes started to glisten but d/boy was in complete 'ready to go to school NOW' mode and just nodded when I asked if he understood.

When discussing it with Giovanna she raised a point that had not occurred to me. Once the inevitable happens we will have to face the questions about what happens afterwards. I was a little bit gobsmacked because I was so caught up in the immediate situation that addressing the 'after' was something I had given little thought too and none whatsoever as to what my children might think.

Due to life circumstances I have done a lot of thinking about what happens when it all finishes. And at some point in the very near future I have to explain that to and discuss that with my children. After much consideration I have become enamoured of the Terry Pratchett 'DiscWorld' theory of The Afterlife. It is what we have believed it will be during our life.

What do y'all think?

If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.

Or in this mama's case - would wake up to clean air and general lack of asphyxia.



Most mornings I am up first and slowly the rest of the household trickles downstairs to mooch in the living room for a bit before beginning the day. Some days however d/Boy is up and awake before any of us. These are usually the days where he comes into my room and wakes me gentle, saying things like 'Tell me to go and get ready for school.' or 'Remind to make my bed.' This for the joy he experiences when he can turn around and say 'TA DAH! I have already done it.'



Monday morning I woke to a smell rather than a sound. I cannot even dignify it with the term 'scent'. My bedroom smelled of bodyspray. A lot of bodyspray. In fact my eyes were open for several minutes before I realised it,so thick was the air with this bodyspray. I prodded CK and said 'You are going to have to talk with your son about how to use an aerosol effectively'. With tears streaming from his reddened eyes CK just nodded, holding in lungs what little fresh air he could.

I blame the father/daughter tag team. He suggested to Princess C-W that she gift her brother with one of those stinky spray gift sets at Christmas as he had always wanted 'smellies'. Pah! Blurry pandering parents. We really should know by now that it never does any good

A question from the end of half term.

Sitting in the living room this Sunday afternoon, hanging out together as the half term ebbs away. Pr. C-W is on the yellow couch drawing, I am hanging washing over the clothes horse, CK gently tormenting his daughter and d/Boy is quietly observing the world.

Comment was made on the radio about sponsorship of the PGA golf tour. Muttering slightly Princess Curly-Wurly said something about suspecting Tiger Woods not having to worry about that for a while. After a few seconds d/Boy said 'Why?' Again playing the funky modern mama card I answered 'Because he has no honour.'

'Why?'

'He went out with other women when he was already married.'

'You go out with other men and you are married. And so does Daddy (what!!!).'

'Yes but he (Tiger Woods) went out with those women in a kissing kind of way.'

'Oh.'





(I can see these questions are just going to trickier and tricksier.)

February's big walk

We met in a nearby market town on a river. The 'Bit Tired' family turned up late - naturally -and the walk began. 22 people and five dogs set off through muddy, water-logged fields and woods. The sky was clear and bright and the day so much warmer than up on the hill.


After surviving two kissing gates and sodden boots from slogging through mahoosive sludge puddles we walked by a river. One dad threw a stick into the water for his spaniel. My assistant thought it looked like fun. Working her way along the bank she found a spot to enter the river. Unfortunately she hadn't factored in her very short legs, the depth of the water, the muddiness of the bank and her inherent hatred of swimming. By the time it looked like she was going under for the third time I was leaning into water with my trusty stick wedged into the mud, one foot underwater digging into the side of the bank attempting to get her back to shore. CK was counterbalancing the other dad who was poised over the water also trying to reach my assistant. I lifted her clear of the evil liquid and she parlayed the crazy adrenaline rush into a dash around the field, rubbing her head and shoulders into every foul smelling lump she could find. The walk continued.


The fields were crazily muddy, the river running full and fast. We threaded through footbridges with millponds on one side and furious water on the other. We edged along busy B roads. Instead of ice this time the teenage boys played at mud-diving. Everyone stopped for tea (of course they did, they are English!) above a creek. A creek that had steep muddy banks, a gentle trickle of water coming down from the stones at one end and best of all a rope swing from one bank to the other.
The dogs went crackers, the teenage boys went crackers and d/Boy and Mrs 'Bit Tired's' whiny daughter went sloop, splosh, squish and ended up with one leg each covered in mud and a wellie filled with creek water. Oh how we laughed!

Not quite January's walk but it was pretty fabulous day. Plans are afoot for the March one already.

Questions from a half term break.

We have had a busy halfterm break. Visiting friends, playing sport, climbing Hengistbury Head and dodging waves at the beach. Cinema, dog-walking, sleepovers and dodgeball.

I'm not sure which of these activities lead to my boy snuggling into my arms on Wednesday morning and saying "What is a love life?"

Shouting silently "WHAT?" I answered that it just refers to people who like to kiss one another and spend time together .

"Oh. Do you and Daddy have a lovelife?" Again with the silent shouting of "WHAT!?!" but I replied 'Errr ... yes.'

"How many people have you kissed?"

This, I have to confess, was a question too far. Being a modern funky mama, and rather than ending the chat, I lead him down a more palatable conversational path. "Well, the first boy I kissed was called Ashley." This apparently was funny and the laughter ramped up when I told him what Ashley's brother's name and their surname.

Eight year old boys are weird.

OK, first you have to pretend it is still Tuesday.

And then you have to imagine there is sunshine. And no rain. And that the wind, when it whips through, isn't icy.

It being February halfterm meant we had to meet up with Family Moog in crappy weather and force our children on a route march of some senic venue. So after some texting we settled on Hengistbury Head on Tuesday. Lunch timeish. Mrs Moog was going to make pancakes.

'Triffic! I'll get Pr. C-W to make her chicken and sweetcorn soup.' I said.

With dread we followed BBC 5 Day weather forecast over the weekend. However stiff upper lip, best foot forward and all that and with a bazgillion changes of clothes in the boot we set off in CK's car for an adventure. CK's car was a necessity as once three pair of wellies are stashed in Maria's boot there is room for nothing else, let alone coats, towels and a basket of food such as may sustain weary travellers.

Despite a slight detour (bloody Kate, CK's satnav!) we got to Hengistbury to discover there are TWO car parks! Which one? Never mind I shall phone Missus Moog and clarify. Oh wait! What is this? My phone has NO power?? Triffic!

However Missus Moog did NOT know about the second car park and as I went back to check it out I passed the Moogsmobile, executing a quick u-turn I ended up parking CK's boring wagon next to the Moogsmobile and right in front of the grass bank where destructoBoy, Princess Curly-Wurly and my assistant were standing shivering in the rain, my beacon of blog-readiness to the world.

Fortunately by the time we actually got to the beach the weather was slightly more friendly with just low cloud, light drizzzle and delicate breeze and so the ball was flung for my assistant who ran her little terrier heart out. (Sometimes she even picked the ball up!) And the smalls ran, clambered, pitched and screeched. Much fun was had by all. Back to the cars for lunch and pancakes - Go Missus Moog, flipper extraordinaire!

Being such a generous soul Missus Moog was kind enough to share with these two scary hoodies lurking in the carpark.

It was only as said pannekoek were being scoffed that one particularly not-intelligent blogger may have said 'Hey! Today is Shrove Tuesday!!

Gifts Part the First

I love birthdays. I really, really love birthdays. Mine, someone else's, the dogs', I just love birthdays. And this year my birthday has actually hit the heights of birthday lani-dom.

Now officially at middle age I decided I have enough stuff (obviously excludes fabric and yarn stash increases) and accordingly told CK I didn't want much for my birthday. And so this is (most of) what I got from my lot.

3 flying lanterns, a face mask (ref. prev. post for finished article) , a book many times discussed and a remote control for my camera (used to superb effect last Saturday night).

CK told me I needed some jewellery for my 40th birthday. *No I don't I said. *Go and choose some he said. *No, I won't I said, I don't need any. *Go and choose a piece of jewellery that is beautiful and lovely or the kids and I will!

So I did. I bought myself a gorgeous string of freshwater pearls. They are luminous. They are long. They are lovely. They will be pictured in the next post!

Then there was a parcel from Sylv. As well as the fabric shown over here she also sent some snuggly warm socks, a knitting book filled with crrrrrrazy patterns and the pearls my father gave her in 1969.

These are a necklet that I may never actually wear but I will take out regularly and stroke and sigh over.

Giovanna played a blinder. Again there was fabric but wrapped inside it were some very elegantly patterned cake papercases, an incredibly funky camera bag (perfect for holding new camera 'mote!) and TWO jugs. The cow one has two cows. Obviously they represent me and her but it has to be said I would be the one on the other side, the smaller cow ;-)

This week Smiley Carol has really had to face her fear of my big black dog because I received something in the post EVERY day. Monday my letterbox held a package from Alice Magpie . There may have been a squeal of delight when I opened the parcel to see a Fortnum's bag. things may have got even squealier when I opened up said bag to reveal tins of posh tea and smart biscuits.

Tuesday there was a birthday card from my Auntie Wil insisting I should have a good birthday and that I would celebrate at least another 40. Apparently after I turn 80 all bets are off!

During our day of gratuitous and luxuriant sleeping on Wednesday my assistant flickered a bit when she heard the lid close on the letterbox so when I finally braved the cold (-2 yesterday at 3pm plus windchill) I found a package from Australia waiting for me. Many huge thanks to Annie, Jodie and Rachel for all the beautiful gifts they sent.

From Rachel there were four gorgeous blocks, so perfectly pointy and stitched; I plan on these becoming a cushion quite soon. Annie sent me some of her stunning cards. Princess C-W was particularly smitten with the one of the poppy. And Missus JodieRicrac sent three pieces of fabric and two packs of her billet-doux. I have spent this week wandering around in a haze of loved-upedness and to be honest I am seriously trying to figure out if I can have another one of these in six months because man! I am flying on the lurve!!

The birthday quilt blog will be updated tomorrow but bleow is a collage of the fabric received since Saturday night.

Come back and visit again because there is more to see yet!

There was a party the other night ....

... and like all good parties (I hope it was a good party) there were elegant surrounds,

good company,

fine wines,

good food,

games

and a couple of old reprobates!

Gifties galore to show off next time.

Still looking for the words for 'Thank You' ...

.... but in the short term I want you all to know that this has been a most fabulous birthday and I am touched by all the thoughtful and kind gestures and words people have proffered in the last ten days.

At this rate I may turn a '0' birthday every month!

the tyranny of distance

There are times when I realise just how far away 'home' is. Now is one of them. He has never even flirted on the edges of my top 500 favourite people but Sylv loves him. These are tough times people. Hold my mother and her husband in your thoughts please.