The Great Bag Debate 2010

We are now well and truly ensconced in the new school year.

Homework is being done, P.E. kit is being organised and leaving on time is becoming established as the norm.

The problem is the school bag. It is a fine school bag, it served several many terms at primary school and was unfailingly, fundamentally good at being a school bag (shown is same same but different bag)But at some point over the Summer 'someone' arbitrarily decided that 'everyone' would be carrying Cath Kidston oilcloth bookbags to school this year. Obviously Pr. C-W did not get that memo nor would it have done her much good as her bag was fine.

Not being completely evil parent I did ask if she was all right w this situation and she said it was ok. She then recounted her conversation w Moriarty's daughter that shows her to a) definitely be the daughter of a woman w an active sewing machine and b) have a fabulous sense of self.

(enter mid-point in discussion about merits of CK bags)

Moriarty's Daughter (and I paraphrase this bit) : Cath Kidston bags are ace and all the best people use them.
Pr.C-W: My mother could make one of those.
MD: But it wouldn't be a Cath Kidston one.
Pr.C-W: She would use CK fabric.
MD: But it wouldn't have a label on it.
Pr. C-W: Yes it would, she has one sitting in the sewing box at home.

So my dilemma is this - the same same but different bag is beginning to show signs of age and bits are starting to fall off and Princess Curly-Wurly has a birthday coming up. Do I buy the ubiquitous CK bag? Do I buy the Paperchase 'Happy Noodle' similar bag? Or do I see if Greengate do something just as lovely but not quite so 'everywhere'?

Voices of the innernets I need your help.

ScottFest 2010

Move over Glasto! The kids and I headed to ScottFest last Saturday.

The weather order was filled perfectly. Blue skies, huge fluffy white clouds and no breeze.

We got there early and set-up the prettiest tent in the universe and while the terences went off to explore I sat and read the paper CK had packed for me.

One of the dads took great delight in teaching d/Boy to ride a motorbike. My boy was a bit wobbly to start but after the first circuit of the showgrounds he got it and was off. Ride like the wind Bullseye!

Princess Curly-Wurly took full advantage of the mahoosive blow-up assault course and the stilts (Although fortunately NOT at the same time. No broken legs here thanks.) before comandeering the quad bike and pegging it around the perimeter of the venue as fast as she could. My heart was in my mouth the entire time until she took me on a ride and I realised 'as fast as she could' was not the same as 'as fast as the quad will go'.

Despite packing two bedrolls, three pillows, one mahoosive airbed, three sleeping bags, two duvets, two double thickness fleece blankets, a basket of warm clothes to wear as the evening approached, jammies, loo roll, knitting, drawing paper and pencil, food to keep the troops going through until breakfast including my assistant, water for us all, a deckchair for me and picnic blanket for the rest (breath) two trips were required back up the hill. The first was for more food and water. The second for CK's spare set of car keys because I was sure I had locked his in the boot. The alternative was too dreadful to consider.

The whole event was chilled out and relaxed with people taking it in turns to cook, tend to children, mix and pour drinks. There was a marquee put up so that the evening's entertainment (Nick Tatham) had somewhere to sit while he played and a fire pit for us all to stand around and toast marshmallows once he had finished.

One of my arch-nemesis was there and put his mono-pod (or eco-pod or some such stupid name for a solid-sided domed tent) right in front of my prettiest-tent-in-the-universe. Within about five minutes he came across all smiley, hippy-happy and said

'Can't we be friends? I hate having to avert my eyes when I see people.'

'I'm not the one who said I don't like Australians' says I sunglasses down, attitude high.

'Oh you shouldn't take any notice of that. I'm a South African. (WTF?!?) Friends?' as he stretched out his hand.

Again he said 'Friends?'

Sunglasses still on I agreed and shook his hand, all the while grimacing on the inside.

d/Boy was getting quite tired by 10pm so after making the mahoosive trek to the far end of the Showgrounds and using the real loos (glamping all the way here baby) he, my assistant and I retired for the night. After a 20 minute struggle with the bedding mountain we fell asleep. Princess C-W crawled in at 11.30!

We slept well until half 3 when the requisite night-time wee was required. Of course I could not find the lead so had to hold my assistant while excavating a very sleepy d/Boy from the bedding mountain then around the back of the tent for a wee rather than head to the other end of the field. All relatively straight forward until my bladder decided it too needed to experience the full joy of camping so still holding my assistant I had to undertake all aspects of outdoor weeing with one free hand.

The whole experience was exacerbated by the proximity of the tent to a boarding kennels. My assistant was wriggling like a lunatic and growling through my hand clamped around her jaw all while d/Boy was standing admiring the bazillion stars visible in the cloud-free sky. As we settled back inside the blanket mountain that d/Boy turned to me and said 'I don't like camping.'

We shall see next Summer my boy, we shall see.

Just a short note.

Trash Towers

On Top of The Hill

UK

22/09/10

The Rat Family

By the Compost Bin

Lower 40

On Top of The Hill

UK

Dear Rat Family,

thank you so much for your polite greeting the other week. It is always sociable when newcomers to the neighbourhood introduce themselves.CK was stunned to hear your dwelling had been constructed so quickly. In his experience building work doesn't seem to get past the planning stage very often but let's not focus on kitchens.


Hopefully you noticed the few care packages we placed on your doorstep as gestures of goodwill and will, by now, have consumed the deliciousness hidden inside them.


I would like to apologise for the raucous greeting of my assistant last week. We do not get to meet many from other lands and cultures in our little rural setting; this Hilltop is a long way from anywhere but then its peace and tranquility is why we all come here, yes? I was glad to see you remained quite unperturbed by my assistant's joyous shouts and dancing. It gave me real hope for how our future relationship will develop.

Yours sincerely,

trash.

Did you notice my poll (eyes right>>>>)

Last week I sent out an email wondering if I were the only one fed up with 'Aussie Crafty Bloggers' going on about just how magnificent a time was had at Sewjourn? Or if others wished they too could have attended the fabulousness that was Sew It Together, Melbourne 2010?

I get a resounding reply of NO!

I was not alone in my deep, deep envy.

Now I accept that Sewjourn is a magical place imbued with the spirit of the luvverly Jan, and the chances of finding such a venue customised to delight the hearts of crafters here in the UK would be tricksy without a mahoosive dose of good fortune. However I reckon that if we put our heads together we could come up with our own version of Sew It Together right here in Old Blighty.

I have been given blessing and benediction by Sheridan . So if you think you might be interested in attending a Craft Extravaganza come October 2011 would you take a couple of seconds to fill in the poll in the sidebar? And if you could spare a few more minutes would you pass the word to any other bloggers who may want to join in?

Middle-class mother worries (or 'How Pr.C-W will beat her mother's record at school).

My girl is now entering her third week at senior school and there has been a lot of homework. Way more than she ever saw at primary school.

Now, I confess to not being an advocate for homework b/c a) school has my child for 6.5 hrs a day, surely they can fit everything they need to learn into that timeframe and b) I sucked at homework and probably handed in seven essays and assignments throughout my entire senior school career but since she does get it she has to suck it up and get it done. To this end I have been harrassing her every afternoon to find out what needs to be done and by when.

My issue is - when does 'helping' become 'doing'? She has an essay (her first ever - oh my baby I am so proud!) for History -'Were the Vikings are cruel and barbaric race?' Leaving aside the issue of a culture being a race I talked her through the topic, we read through the notes she brought home and looked at the layout suggested by Mrs Lurch the History teacher.

The one really big thing I want her to understand is how to write an essay so while I sanded the cupboard door (the boring bits of her room's makeover continue) we discussed how to plan one. Firstly I explained how, starting with the intro, each paragraph answers a question and then there is a conclusion to wind the whole thing up. Then using the info she had been given and her own general knowledge I teased out the responses to each question she had set for each paragraph.

I did not write her essay. I did not tell her what to write. I did help her understand what is expected in terms of homework, in terms of constructing the answers and also in terms of managing her time.

I don't want to be the mother who gets cross with the teacher because 'we' got a lower mark than we deserved. In fact I won't be the mother who does that because I don't do her homework. What I will be is the one who teaches her how to address this whole new world she has been thrown into.

(what I hope never to be again is the mother who discovers a piece of homework is due in today just minutes before said child walks out the door for the day. Between 0805 and 0815 was not the finest time in my life to date.)

The tale end of the birthday.

This was the last birthday cake of destructoBoy's birthday week.

The Old Man Dog's help breaking into the Treasure Chest was graciously declined.

The 'X' was located and the treasure found.

There was smashing, joy and excitement.

And at the end - complete exhaustion.

I am 40. Surely I should no longer be left feeling like I am the last one picked for the rounders team? Or the girl who the others talk to or invite to parties because their mothers made them? Stupid bloody social interaction.

I married the wrong man.

Princess C-W has just informed me about some girls in her new year who have the surname 'Treasure'. I have informed her that had she been into that family I would have been forced to call her 'Boxarella Olivia' so that she could be known as 'Box. O. Treasure'. Her brother would have been named Chester. And I might even have gone so far as to take their father's surname when we married.

Silverpebble's Shadow-a-long II

Today was a bit grim and overcast and heralded the rain we have been expecting since teatime. But I took these pictures the weekend before last and just looking at them today lifted my spirits a little.

This is the Waterford pattern 'Newgrange.' And I love the clarity in the shadow.

The sun hitting these apples manages to give Autumn a good name even as Summer draws to a close.

And these mandarins glow in the afternoon sunlight.

But that weekend this was my favourite shadow of all.

All in all a busy week really.

OK so really the week began on Friday 3 September but how ridiculous to start a new school year on a Friday. Bah!

All dressed up in her 'big school' uniform my girl left the house to start a whole new adventure.

Then on the Monday proper it was destructoBoy's birthday.

*Presents. *Teatime cake. *Playing with the teatime cake. *Racing Granma's car.

This coincided with two new ventures here on top of the hill. One that involves an extra nine yo 6/10 mornings during termtime and the other was the whirling dervish arrival of the AbFab puppy.

TG we only have her for a few weeks as I am sure both my assistant and the old men dogs would be moving out at the thought of it becoming even semi-permanent.

Smiley Carol got brave enough one morning to deliver my fabulous parcel in the 'As You Like It' Swap 2010.

So much swappy loveliness from Jane. My themes were clouds (because I am such a geeky nerd and love looking up at them and the shapes they make)and also apples. Jane played with both and these are the results.

All the loot.

*Two of my favourite things - Amy Butler fabric and Snickers (those chocolate bars are so teeny weeny!).*Front and back of the pincushion (oh how clever is that Amusement Park fabric?). *Lovely appley Thank You cards. *Super smart Paisley notebook I had to put out of Pr C-W's hands. * Tissues that made me smile. * Sweet appley fabric basket in which to place all the teeny weeny US bob. * The cloudy back of my lovely Ticker Tape quilty hanging.

And then the front of the ticker Tape Quilt.

There is so much going on it is eyecandy for the soul. An eyeful of sweetness and a colour high every time I look at it. I just love it. Thank you Jane it is all simply delicious.

Wednesday after school d/Boy and I invented 'sweetie/Nerf shooting'.

*Throwing out the bob. * Bullet firing. The premise being if he hit the bob he could eat it. Needless to say the bob were safe ;-)
So much of this week (and the last) has been taken up with 'doing' Pr C-W's room . It went from this -

To this.

And yesterday the carpet man came and laid a brand new raspberry pink carpet. Farewell threadbare, stinky, horrid, 40 yo Axminster.

So while the man was laying the pretty new carpet yesterday I started the party baking. We have gold coins, some skellington and 'X marks the spot' biscuits. In the bottom R corner is the 'wooden treasure chest' sitting over the cake.



Right then. Off to bed in preparation for the onslaught.

Hobbits is funny things my Precious.

The Year of The Hobbit Giveaway.

More information?

Click here.

Phew! I think we have the cakes sorted.

There is a tradition up here at Trash Towers of two birthday cakes on your birthday.

Yes that is correct two, because what is a birthday without cake for breakfast?

destrutoBoy has requested Lemon Drizzle to start the day which is a fresh, zingy (sugar-laden) flavour to kickstart the celebrations. Perfect choice as a recent Good Food had a recipe for a gluten-free lemon cake and I reeeeeeeeeeaaally wanted to try it.

Wish I hadn't.

It was yuk. Squooshy texture and an unceratin taste that left my tongue perplexed. So need to find another recipe (hurrah for the innernets) and also make small cakes to take into school.

The birthday boy has asked for a surprise for the teatime one. I am currently torn between A)something pool table-ish as this is his current fascination and B) something I can cover in small, plastic horses and ponies as I have been telling him for weeks he can expect 'the birthday pony' to turn up for his present.

This joke has been pleasingly exacerbated by the number of saddles and riding kit we have seen in windows of charity and junk shops recently and the fact that it is harvest time and the roads are filled with mahoosive trailers laden high with haybales.

Right then. Let the baking commence!

Nine day countdown begins.

destructoBoy is having a birthday party Sunday week.

(from here)

He has decided it is to be a treasure hunt.

Fabulous.

(from here)

Now it means I have to organise it.


Any hints?

Anyone?

Silverpebble's shadow-a-long

The afternoon sunshine bounced off the freshly painted walls filling her room with gentle light.

I watched her delighting in the results of the weekend's hard work.

A new room in which to begin a whole new chapter of her life.