Am Westen nichts neues

A very quiet weekend in the sense of nothing much going on, a very loud one in the sense of poorly children screaming their little heads off.

Beri has been very very badly afflicted. I do actually have photos, but you may prefer your last meal where it is. Just as I have not recorded the noises he has been making, as posterity may prefer its eardrums unruptured. Thank Heaven for Calpol. Sid merely had a very uncomfortable few hours, the jammy little whotsit. And yesterday, all of this in front of Ma's lunch guests, of course.

So today the three of us stayed home. We have lovely neighbours who have been in and out supplying us with fresh Calpol and comics, Jessie came bearing sparkly nail varnish at Sid's specific request, and for the bits where everyone ached too much to move, there was Madagascar.

And tomorrow we will be even closer to Cheerful.

. . . and how was your day?

Blogworld calls this a meme, though I don't think it is, technically. The idea is, you cut and paste the following into your own post, and answer the questions. Then you ask other people you know with blogs to do the same, and they send it on to their blogchums, etc etc etc. (Anne-Marie Sadleir sent me this via e-mail).

Elaine, Julia, Theresa - you know who I'm talking to! (And OI! E & J! Why am I not in your sidebars!)

1. What time did you get up this morning? 10:00am. Jeremy is at home, so deals with the early morning shift. Of course he is a prince among men, but fact is that if he is around the children couldn't be less interested in me.

2. Diamonds or pearls? - Pearls. I'm a Spring.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Hot Fuzz - a laugh a minute.

4. What is your favourite TV show? Hmm - toss-up between House and West Wing. My sister and I get together every other week for a House-fest, and J and I grab a WW off the DVD whenever we can.

5. What is your middle name? Don't have one

6. What is your favourite cuisine? Thai.

7. What foods do you dislike? Offal. Custard. Peanut butter. Celery. Peppers. Licorice.

8. Favourite crisps? Root veg - beetroot and parsnip.

9. What is your favourite CD at the moment? Von Karajan's Verdi's Requiem

10. What kind of car do you drive? Volkswagen Sharan

11. What characteristics do you despise? Bigotry and wastefulness.

12. What are your favourite clothes? 50s style circular skirts with poodles on.

13. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation? Bay of Naples. WITHOUT my extremely lovely children. And Florence.

14. Favourite brand of clothing? Charity shop.

15. Favourite time of day? After everyone has gone to bed and it's just me on my own.

16. Where were you born? Caracas in Venezuela

17. What is your favourite sport to watch? Gymnastics and Tennis

18. Who do you think will not respond? Oh come on - you all will, right?

19. Person you expect to post first? Elaine.

20. Pepsi or Coke? Ugh. And ugh.

21. Beavers or ducks? Beavers. Didn't get a talking duck being useful in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, did you?

22. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Night owl to an alarming degree.

23. Pedicure or manicure? Ped.

24. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? I dunno - I finally cracked cake-making? After an embarrassing number of years?

25. What did you want to be when you were little? Bigger.

26. What is your best childhood memory? Sunday afternoons at the planetarium with my Dad. Him letting me change gears on the journey.

27. Do you have any Piercing? Ears

28. Ever been to Africa? Of course - lived there for seven years as a child.

29. Been in a car accident? Yup. Didn't know it wasn't my right of way on the right turn at a three-way traffic light. This was years ago.

30. Favourite famous person of the opposite gender? We are talking sexy here, right? Sherlock Holmes as played by Jeremy Brett. Or Torquil MacNeill, Laird of Killoran, as played by Roger Livesey. For real? Nelson Mandela.

31. Favourite day of the week? Sunday. Family lunch, time in the garden and a recording of 'You've been Framed' for us to watch all together.

32. Favourite restaurant? Sabai Sabai, a Thai in Hammersmith

33. Favourite Flower? Bearded Iris.

34. Favourite ice cream? Haagen-Dasz Caramel Cone Explosion. They don't make it any more, thank goodness.

35. Favourite fast food restaurant? Wendy's hamburgers, after a hard day's work, meeting friends for an early movie. Don't think they have those any more either.

36. How many times did you fail your driver's test? None.

37. From whom did you get your last email? Freecycle

38. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Art supplies. Or sheet music. Or Amazon.

39. Bedtime? 4:00

40. Who are you most curious about their responses to this? Everyone I suppose. I do like talking about myself best of all though.

41. Last person you went to dinner with? Lees, Beedles and Beedle family.

42. What are you listening to right now? Sid asking me what I am doing on the pompicuter, and enumerating her injuries caused by her brothers.

43. What is your favourite colour? Violet.

44. How many tattoos do you have? None! The idea!

45. How many are you tagging? Three!

46. What time did you finish this post? 14:38

47. Favourite magazine? National Enquirer.

Julia's back

from ten days in Las Vegas, still saucer-eyed from how peculiar it all was. She said the show went well enough, and she met a great number of people, some of whom she knew well as customers from her internet shop. She said there was no natural daylight in Vegas, absolutely none. And how, once you got there, there was no need to leave your hotel for the duration of your stay. Everything was there - cocktails, chemists, clothes, 'coffee' shops. And she brought T-shirts! These are the ones she bought for Sid and me - I leave you to guess which is which.

To my utter delight, Beri came down with the Pox yesterday. He's only had two complete days in Reception, and he will only have one term in this class, so to lose probably over a week of school seems very unfair. And I spotted the first spot on Sid earlier today too. AND Jeremy will be in Aberdeen all next week. Oh, let joy be unconfined.

And we thought we were under pressure . . .

My friend Lin is of Singaporean extraction. That is, her parents are both Singaporean, she was born and brought up there, but studied medicine here, practises here (STDs. Ugh.), married an Englishman (ok, Lithuanian Jew. But seriously English.) and raises their son Matthew, who is Kit's age. They live in a lovely bit of Chiswick. Some four years ago hubby was offered a prestigious post in Singapore - Lin's theory was that she herself was a major factor, on the grounds that she would so love being 'home' again she would persuade hubby to stay longer than the two years he had agreed. Ha - fat chance.

ANYWAY. She found what she thought was a lovely nursery for Matthew, where he seemed happy enough, until she eventually got round to buying the required uniform T-shirt, and promptly removed him from the school.

Isn't it FANTASTIC? I insisted she buy one for me - I reckoned that if I had made up a batch and hawked them around W4 I'd have made a killing.

What a Weekend

"My idea of good company, Mr. Elliot, is the company of clever, well-informed
people, who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good
company."
"You are mistaken," said he gently; "that is not good company;
that is the best."

Jane Austen, Persuasion

We had a lovely weekend in beautiful Somerset, visiting our friends the Beedles in their new home, to celebrate Elaine's birthday. Lunch in the courtyard overhung with bursting wisteria, a trailer ride to a low bank of the river Brue where the children could wade in up to their ankles / knees / waists, depending on their heights, a raging bonfire, and a mixture of old and new faces to keep the grown-ups amused.

Dinner was provided by caterers eager to prove their ability (Greg and Elaine intend to go into business running a wedding venue. They Will Be Recommending Caterers.) and was suitably delicious, and all the 'turns' (each guest had been asked beforehand to prepare a little amusement) went down extremely well. A couple of poems, a re-enactment of Waltzing Matilda, a lesson in Etiquette, and a couple of songs. ('Love Me Tender'. Jeremy on vocals, me on guitar, struggling with an F#7 / Bm combo.)

The next day held a tour of the Mill, and a visit to Stourhead for a walk and lunch, then home.

At least I'm fairly sure that's what happened. In spite of Elaine's repeated urgings to the contrary, I had provided margaritas for the pre-dinner drinks. The good thing about this for me was that, being a person who gets intoxicated extremities first, the fact that I had forgotten my fancy shoes and had to spend 45 minutes outside in stockinged feet mattered not at all.

The first time . . .

Kit falsified his first set of results today! I'm so proud!

It was the second day of term today, and Kit realised that the homework he had been given at the end of last term hadn't actually, in so many words, not to put too fine a point on it, been done. It was a survey of the family's eating habits. So my normal morning routine (shouting, a quick game of hunt-the-book-bag, shouting, realising that the shirt I have just put on might not, in the more rarified echelons of civilisation, pass for - well, clean - and deciding I don't give a damn, yelling,brushing Sid's hair (aaw!) and some more shouting) was made infinitely more enjoyable by Kit hurling personal-bordering-on-the-downright-invasive questions at my head. HOW MANY PIECES OF FRUIT DO I EAT A DAY! HOW MUCH EXERCISE DO I TAKE! WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I HAD A BOWEL MOVEMENT! OK, I made that last one up.

Daddy had, of course, long since departed for the hurly-burly of the Big City, and was therefore unavailable for comment. So Kit Made It Up. 'I just pretended to be Daddy', he said, so proud of his own ingenuity in finding a way to present a complete set of data.

I just thought - I have no idea if he sought responses from Beri or Sid, and if he did, what on earth they said! Hmm - I wonder if his data-gathering model allows for the possible skewing of data based on the - let's say, different priorities - of a four- and a three- year old.

Back to School tomorrow

Hard to find something to say when all that's happening is that everyone is having a lovely time.

Last week, in spite of my extreme nervous apprehension, Jeremy loaded up the car with the bikes and the children and a very reluctant me, and off we went to Black Park for a cycle ride. We bought my bike when I was just pregnant with Sid, so not only was this the first time I had actually ridden it, as Beri was on the Tag-along behind Jeremy, Sid was in the carrier on my bike. I didn't feel sure of keeping myself upright, never mind ensuring the safety of my darling daughter.

And it was lovely. Black Park is huge, but people keep mostly to a few areas - the cafe, the playground, the lake. So we could whizz along with little fear of running anyone over, and everyone had a lovely time.

We lunched with Fenella and her family yesterday. They gave us a delicious barbeque lunch, and the six cousins got on terrifically well. Sid was very out of sorts that night though - I think she gave herself heatstroke, because having started the day in trousers, socks, a long sleeved top and her princess dress on top, she steadfastly refused to take any of it off. You can see why though.

Easter Bunny - yes or no?

I found Easter Daleks at Marks and Spencer, so while Jessie minded the children in the toyshop, I bought two daleks and a bunny. I wrapped them up so they couldn't be seen, and we made our way back to the car to come home. As I was packing our bags, I discovered to my horror that the daleks came equiped with a sound chip. So, out of apparently nowhere, came the metallic order to 'Exterminate! Exterminate!', causing both boys to freeze, eyes and ears akimbo to pinpoint the source of their favourite noise in all the world. I hastily invented a child with a Dr Who toy going into the lift, and got away with it. Phew.

We had a family supper with Julia and Russell yesterday, when I planned to hide the 'eggs' in her garden. Just as I was taking the bags out of her kitchen, as carefully as I knew how, blimey if the chip didn't go off again. 'Mobile ring-tone! The television! You're imagining it!' I babbled, leaping for outdoors, and managed to plant the packages undetected.

My mother, taking a pre-prandial turn around the garden, spotted the bunny and came in puzzled as to what it was. Her first thought was that it, and the two other cardboard additions were some sort of rabbit-scaring arrangement. Good grief.

It went perfectly. Without any prompting, the children stumbled across the chocolates while they had their post-prandial play, and Kit, who had started to doubt the existence of the Bunny, was re-convinced as he reckoned that the 'Exterminate! Exterminate!' had been caused by the Paschal Rodent while laying the 'eggs'.

They're back!

And I'm sure they would have been pleased to see me, if Marie and Megan Gibbs hadn't just arrived bearing Easter Eggs. Proper ones, not like the horrid-looking ones Mama is making. With her own two hands. Because she Loves Her Children. More of that anon.

But they had a ball at the playground and the petting zoo, visited Colchester Castle and played at Go Bananas. Ate like trenchermen, because basically their paternal grandmother will not take any crap like what I do.

The best bit of my time off? Realising, at 18:05, that I needed to leave for the cinema, and starting up the car at 18:07.

Oh yes - the chocolate eggs. Another of these aren't-I-a-good-mum schemes gone horribly wrong. A couple of weeks ago, I melted the chocolate, brought out the moulds, wrapped the kids up in their plastic aprons, and then it all went to hell in a handcart. The little beggars actually started helping. No-ooo-oo-o-oo! Moulds bent out of shape, kids screaming at each other to 'Let GO! It's MY turn!' and hot melted chocolate everywhere. Having shoo-ed them away - far away - I've had good fun doing it ALL BY MYSELF. But now it's crunch time. Having lovingly put the patterns in different coloured chocolate, and filled the moulds with careful layers of the plain stuff, it was time to put the eggs together.

The little ones popped out of their moulds very easily, and it was the work of moments to paste the halves together. Well, it would have been moments if I hadn't had to keep washing my hands.

I'd used blimmin' cooking chocolate, hadn't I. All organically grown and fairly traded and all, but the stuff, as indeed it's supposed to, melts at a breath, never mind body temperature. The little eggs are all smeared messes, and the two big ones, destined for Ma and Julia, JUST WILL NOT COME OUT OF THEIR MOULDS. Without breaking into tiny little pieces, obviously.

Though a big upside to all this has been my discovery that as a method of taking and storing clearly defined fingerprints, cooking chocolate is second to none. I'm going to write to Gil Grissom. Maybe he'll want to discuss it over a bottle of wine . . .

Alone at last . . .

Jeremy has taken the children to visit his parents for three days. Since the plan was mooted a couple of weeks ago, not a day has gone by without at least one of them asking, 'Are we going today?' (Mostly the little ones. Kit's grasp of the passage of time is rather more finely honed than theirs.)


It's been a busy day. Church needed an earlier than usual start. Because it is Palm Sunday, the congregation congregated in the Surgery car park, and was handed palm fronds and hymn sheets. Off we went, Choir Mistress, Band, Choir, Priests, then Uncle Tom Cobbley and All. Up the hill, down the dale, over the road, past the duckpond, across the green and into the church, all singing like mad things. Because no-one could hear anything, the last of the procession was anywhere between three bars and an entire verse behind the front. But hey ho, Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam and all that. The children turned their palm crosses around, holding them like swords, and started a fight in the church. Argh.


We lunched at Ma's, where the children were hopelessly distractd by Impromptu Massimo. (This turns out to be Orlando's proper name. He's not just any old tat, y'know.) Isn't he beautiful!



Then we came back, raced through a plate of supper, and they went.







*sniff*



I'm already anxious for their safe return.