So, after all the planning, preparation and expense, Christmas is over for another year.
Just when is that defining moment when you let go of all things tinselly and infused with Santa's magic and begin to welcome the new start. Is it when the decorations come down or the last slice of Xmas cake is consumed? Or is it when the chocolate excesses are fully converted to waistline expanding extra poundage and can no longer be ignored? I think for me, the one defining moment is when the binman comes to collect the overflowing black bin to relieve me of the seasonal waste destined for landfill.
Waste management over Xmas can be a nightmare. I was doing quite well with it, recyling wherever humanly possible and compacting to the limits of compactability. But then the urge for a post Xmas clear out threatened to overwhelm me if I didn't give in to it. The resulting bags of rubbish were bags of rubbish too far. I was at least able to hide them away in the green bin until such a time as my black bin was emptied of the burden of consumer madness.
The binmen have done their job. The black bin is nearly full again already but at least the green bin is emptier. And Christmas is definitely over.
In a rare quiet moment recently, my husband asked me Have you had a good Xmas darling? I hesitated before answering, In so many ways it has been a wonderful Xmas - a house full of family, friends and laughter, community events that have meant the focus of Xmas hasn't been solely inward facing to our own little bubble of home, great food, warm fires, the joy of experiencing the wonder through the eyes of my little ones and even some snow. So why the hesitation? Why could I not respond with Yes, it has been the most magical of times!!
I think the problem must lie within me. It is a bit like I am a crystal glass waiting to be filled with the finest champagne. The champagne is flowing freely, my glass is filled ... but there is a crack, a tiny crack that no one can see. Not even I know it's there until the sweet liquid has run slowly away and the bubbles are gone. It doesn't matter how many times that glass is refilled, the result will always be a disappointingly empty glass and a bemused wondering of where all that lovely champagne has gone.
Maybe it is simply because my life moves so quickly. There is always something going on, some new demand made of time or attention. There is rarely a moment to stop and reflect and truly marvel at all the good things happening all around me. When I do stop, it tends to be because I am in a state of exhaustion - not a good frame of mind to consolidate the 'happy' and plug that destructive crack in the glass.
I now have that annoyingly catchy jingle stuck in my head from the Autoglass ad (Autoglass repair, Autoglass replace) Clearly what I need is the psychological version of Autoglass - but what is that?
I used to find that blogging gave me the moments of reflection I craved but over Christmas, our computer took a terminal turn for the worse. Without the convenience of my beloved Mac, I got out of the habit. I am back now with a minimalist set up that involves my i pad and a dinky little keyboard. I could grow to love it but it does seem to be slightly awkward. Maybe being reacquainted with my keyboard (albeit a dinky one) is all the therapy I need. I am definitely prepared to try blogging for my sanity by whatever means available!
Or maybe all I need is a really good rest and a change of scenery. I do understand now why the holiday providers are so keen to advertise exotic destinations as soon as the 'must have' toy commercials have done their best to persuade impressionable minds what they really want for Christmas.
So what did I really want for Christmas that I didn't get? What was the mystery 'must have' ingredient that would have made me answer my husband with a resounding YES when he asked me the fateful question that got me thinking about my dissatisfaction in the first place. It is simply (and impossibly difficultly) more time and energy to enjoy everything that I already have.
I did attempt a few time saving strategies. I will share one time saving triumph and one disaster before I draw a line under Christmas and move forward into the new year.
Triumph - Instead of spending hours decorating my Christmas cake, I made the decision to go naked. No one in my house actually likes marzipan or icing anyway. Naked cake is the way forward for us.
Disaster - Time spent agonizing over what to buy my husband, buying it, wrapping it and keeping it hidden were all saved. I didn't get him a present. I still feel bad about it.
Showing posts with label xmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label xmas. Show all posts
Tuesday, 6 January 2015
Tuesday, 7 January 2014
So that was Christmas
The decorations are packed away for another year (with the exception of a large snowflake that somehow escaped the de-adornment), the kids are back at school and the post-Xmas house clear up and reorganise is well under way.
It has been the busiest Christmas I can remember. We were blessed with many visitors which was wonderful but exhausting.
Equally exhausting but the exact opposite of wonderful was the drainage emergency that struck us on Christmas eve. When we should have been singing carols under the twinkling lights of the town Xmas tree and returning home full of festive cheer to a glass of mulled wine, we were in fact trying to deal with a blockage that meant I could not use my kitchen sink or (horrifyingly) my dishwasher. My ever resourceful husband, with the guidance and support of his dad, had an exploratory poke around before building a temporary system of pipes to divert the waste water to a drain that was flowing freely. The greasy, sludgy problem was then dealt with at a more convenient moment (ie not on Xmas eve in the dark). Once the blockage was finally dislodged and flushed away, I tried to reward my husband with a big hug of gratitude. The hug did not last long. He absolutely stank.
A much more pleasant memory is that of my little Addy's school Xmas performance. It was a modern twist on the traditional nativity and she played the part of an angel. I was concerned that she would not be well enough to take part having already missed a panto trip because of a nasty cough and cold that seemed intent on hanging around. I also harboured some lingering concerns after the meltdown she had during the previous year's performance. All my concerns disappeared when she stood up on stage and sang beautifully complete with actions.
It has been the busiest Christmas I can remember. We were blessed with many visitors which was wonderful but exhausting.
Equally exhausting but the exact opposite of wonderful was the drainage emergency that struck us on Christmas eve. When we should have been singing carols under the twinkling lights of the town Xmas tree and returning home full of festive cheer to a glass of mulled wine, we were in fact trying to deal with a blockage that meant I could not use my kitchen sink or (horrifyingly) my dishwasher. My ever resourceful husband, with the guidance and support of his dad, had an exploratory poke around before building a temporary system of pipes to divert the waste water to a drain that was flowing freely. The greasy, sludgy problem was then dealt with at a more convenient moment (ie not on Xmas eve in the dark). Once the blockage was finally dislodged and flushed away, I tried to reward my husband with a big hug of gratitude. The hug did not last long. He absolutely stank.
A much more pleasant memory is that of my little Addy's school Xmas performance. It was a modern twist on the traditional nativity and she played the part of an angel. I was concerned that she would not be well enough to take part having already missed a panto trip because of a nasty cough and cold that seemed intent on hanging around. I also harboured some lingering concerns after the meltdown she had during the previous year's performance. All my concerns disappeared when she stood up on stage and sang beautifully complete with actions.
Dylan also took part in a nativity. After the event he was given a certificate:
This was the most ill deserved certificate ever awarded! He was quite determined that he did not want to be a shepherd. He refused to even try on the outfit I had lovingly crafted out of old pillow cases. Foolishly, I believed that when he was with his friends and everyone was dressed up, he would be carried along with the moment. Wrong. When all the little shepherds appeared and paraded around the church on their journey to see the Baby Jesus (delightfully played by a real baby) Dylan was not among them. Trailing behind with the grumpiest expression and wearing his JCB coat over the top of his pillowcase, was my boy. My beautiful, annoyingly stubborn boy. I managed to wrestle his coat off him as he passed but he refused to join the other children for their rendition of "While Shepherds watched their Flocks". Some days later when I was putting him to bed and telling him I loved him, he asked "do you love me even if I wasn't a shepherd?" I told him "especially because you wasn't a shepherd". He sleepily added, "I didn't want to be a shepherd, I wanted to be just Dylan". Just Dylan is Just Perfect for me.
It has been a Christmas on a budget for us this year. On the positive side this has made me think very carefully about what I've spent money on and I have enjoyed the extravagances (such as my bottle of port) all the more for it. It has also meant explaining to Addy that some of the toys she has seen on the telly are expensive and possibly not quite as fantastic as the advertisers would have us believe. A trusting five year old did not want to accept that adverts tell lies!!! and she could not comprehend why I would worry about expense when Santa brings the toys!!! My eldest daughter is in her twenties - two decades of Christmases and I have NEVER had to deal with the idea of me doing all the work buying presents and Santa taking all the credit. I think my first born was far too sensible to entertain the nonsense that a fat man in a red coat visits all the children on one evening, climbs down the chimneys and leaves presents. We didn't even have a chimney in our first house! And she would have never allowed her sisters to believe such nonsense either. I trod very carefully as I tried to offer an explanation that would not destroy Addy's treasured innocence but would also give her a slightly better understanding of my role in the process. I dared suggest that it couldn't be as easy as Santa bringing you everything you wish for otherwise he'd bring me two new sofas to replace my old tired ones. Addy holds her own in an argument. She laughed at me and said Don't be silly mummy, he wouldn't have enough wrapping paper.
Despite some disagreements about what might be a good thing to put on the Christmas list, both little ones had plenty of presents that they thoroughly enjoyed unwrapping and loved every one. My husband may have cracked his tooth on my home made Christmas cake but overall the festive fare did not disappoint. Best of all, good times with family and friends reminded us of what is most important. Santa didn't bring my sofas but he certainly made sure that the spirit of Christmas was there in abundance.
Saturday, 21 December 2013
How many sleeps until Xmas??!!??
If I'm not careful - I'm going to miss the whole thing! It's a cliche but I can't believe how quickly the time is flying by. This year will be a test of what I always say to people who ask me if I'm ready for the big day, that is - not really but it'll happen regardless of me.
In case I don't get a chance to sit down at my computer between now and then, here is my QWERTY QWistmas message to all who chance upon this post.
In case I don't get a chance to sit down at my computer between now and then, here is my QWERTY QWistmas message to all who chance upon this post.
Monday, 14 January 2013
QRS is for Quick Run, Quick Step, Rumba and Snow
In the interest of getting through our Alphabet Dates so that we can concentrate on our 50 things to do before we're 50, we have cheated slightly and combined Q, R and S.
After a Casino Night at The Queen's School in Chester fell through as a date option, my husband and I decided that a Quick Run together would qualify as a Q date - and could incorporate the R component as well. We had visions of an early morning, romantic run (if a run could ever be considered romantic) while the trees were transformed into fragile, glittering masterpieces by Jack Frost's paintbrush. However, the mild weather over the Christmas holidays when we were both available with babysitters on standby, meant that the perfect opportunity never really presented itself.
This weekend we had a bit of a 'now or never' moment, put on our running gear and went for it (the Quick part of our Quick Run being descriptive of the duration rather than the speed)
I am not a good runner by any stretch of the imagination but I felt quite efficient with economy of movement compared with my rather bouncy, gangly 6' 5" husband. We were fairly evenly matched fitness wise which pleased me - I had visions of me coughing up my own internal organs as I attempted to keep pace with him. I think that any advantage he has over me from his Triathlon training and regular gym sessions are cancelled out by a recurring hip injury that he suffers from - a hip injury that can seriously affect his running ability. It turned out we were pretty good running partners - each of us pushing the other forward. We ran a 2.3 mile route with a reasonably fast finish and it felt great.
He has signed up to run a 10K Road Race in our town with me in May so we could be doing lots more training together. I think that the very best dates are the ones that unlock new interests, let you see a new side to someone and lead on to greater things. This could potentially have been an excellent date!
The date didn't stop with the run. We went out that evening for a dance lesson - the first in a long time. When I realised that we were going to be working on the Quickstep and the Rumba, it put me very much into a 'date' frame of mind rather than my usual 'learning' mode. I felt very connected to my husband as we worked through our rumba routine, the dance of love, and learned some new figures to add to it. It was a lovely session, even if our quickstep left a lot to be desired.
I was already feeling that life was magical and wonderful as I left our dance class. I received total confirmation of this when we walked out into a world blanketed in crisp white snow with a myriad of flakes falling gently through the cold air.
I never Dream of a White Christmas. I wait for it to snow then have a 'fake Christmas'. Driving home through the snow was lovely. The roads were clear but everything looked new and beautiful. I absolutely love what happens through the windscreen as the car drives into falling snow. The flakes seem to come straight at you in lines that converge on a distant point. Mesmerising. Not so good when you are trying to concentrate on driving but as a passenger I could totally lose myself in the 'hyperspace warp speed' effect it creates.
Back home, we toasted our 'fake Christmas' with a glass of port and enjoyed a slice of Christmas cake. It may not be good for the diet but it was definitely good for the soul.
The snow reminded me of my wedding day. I had a February wedding. The weather was amazing - blue skies and enough sunshine to do a few outdoor poses with the photographer (although you can see the goosebumps on my arms if you look closely at some of the pictures) and during the night it snowed. I woke up as a married woman to the most perfect white world. It was the best wedding present ever.
The Snow at the end of our 'Q R' date was such an amazing bonus and with S being the next consecutive letter, I felt it only right to add it. In the spirit of post-Xmas economising, it was a 'three for the price of one' deal - A QRS Date.
I was hoping that the snow would remain for a day of two so we could celebrate Fake Christmas in style with the family but Monday morning was predictably grey and drizzly. I will have to see if I can brighten things up with an imaginative T date.
After a Casino Night at The Queen's School in Chester fell through as a date option, my husband and I decided that a Quick Run together would qualify as a Q date - and could incorporate the R component as well. We had visions of an early morning, romantic run (if a run could ever be considered romantic) while the trees were transformed into fragile, glittering masterpieces by Jack Frost's paintbrush. However, the mild weather over the Christmas holidays when we were both available with babysitters on standby, meant that the perfect opportunity never really presented itself.
This weekend we had a bit of a 'now or never' moment, put on our running gear and went for it (the Quick part of our Quick Run being descriptive of the duration rather than the speed)
I am not a good runner by any stretch of the imagination but I felt quite efficient with economy of movement compared with my rather bouncy, gangly 6' 5" husband. We were fairly evenly matched fitness wise which pleased me - I had visions of me coughing up my own internal organs as I attempted to keep pace with him. I think that any advantage he has over me from his Triathlon training and regular gym sessions are cancelled out by a recurring hip injury that he suffers from - a hip injury that can seriously affect his running ability. It turned out we were pretty good running partners - each of us pushing the other forward. We ran a 2.3 mile route with a reasonably fast finish and it felt great.
He has signed up to run a 10K Road Race in our town with me in May so we could be doing lots more training together. I think that the very best dates are the ones that unlock new interests, let you see a new side to someone and lead on to greater things. This could potentially have been an excellent date!
The date didn't stop with the run. We went out that evening for a dance lesson - the first in a long time. When I realised that we were going to be working on the Quickstep and the Rumba, it put me very much into a 'date' frame of mind rather than my usual 'learning' mode. I felt very connected to my husband as we worked through our rumba routine, the dance of love, and learned some new figures to add to it. It was a lovely session, even if our quickstep left a lot to be desired.
I was already feeling that life was magical and wonderful as I left our dance class. I received total confirmation of this when we walked out into a world blanketed in crisp white snow with a myriad of flakes falling gently through the cold air.
I never Dream of a White Christmas. I wait for it to snow then have a 'fake Christmas'. Driving home through the snow was lovely. The roads were clear but everything looked new and beautiful. I absolutely love what happens through the windscreen as the car drives into falling snow. The flakes seem to come straight at you in lines that converge on a distant point. Mesmerising. Not so good when you are trying to concentrate on driving but as a passenger I could totally lose myself in the 'hyperspace warp speed' effect it creates.
Back home, we toasted our 'fake Christmas' with a glass of port and enjoyed a slice of Christmas cake. It may not be good for the diet but it was definitely good for the soul.
The snow reminded me of my wedding day. I had a February wedding. The weather was amazing - blue skies and enough sunshine to do a few outdoor poses with the photographer (although you can see the goosebumps on my arms if you look closely at some of the pictures) and during the night it snowed. I woke up as a married woman to the most perfect white world. It was the best wedding present ever.
The Snow at the end of our 'Q R' date was such an amazing bonus and with S being the next consecutive letter, I felt it only right to add it. In the spirit of post-Xmas economising, it was a 'three for the price of one' deal - A QRS Date.
I was hoping that the snow would remain for a day of two so we could celebrate Fake Christmas in style with the family but Monday morning was predictably grey and drizzly. I will have to see if I can brighten things up with an imaginative T date.
Wednesday, 9 January 2013
Human Etch a Sketch
I didn't get a new car from Santa, but I did get my rattly one fixed which should see me through a few more years (touch wood!)
I did, however, get a rather special present from my in-laws. With a little help from my husband, they bought me a Garmin Forerunner 10 GPS running watch. I love it because it is pink and part of the purchase price included a donation to Cancer Research - a charity close to my heart. I haven't quite worked out what all the buttons do yet but I love it because it records every mile that I run, my average minutes per mile and my best pace. I love it because I can upload my runs onto my personal profile on the Garmin website and compare stats and routes and see progress and set goals. It is hugely motivating.
I also love it because it sketches out the route I have run and shows it as a red line overlaid on a street map.
I couldn't help seeing the potential to use this feature to turn myself and my town into a giant Etch a Sketch. Just like the Etch a Sketch I played with as a child, I could make any shape (that within reason fits in with street geography) that can be made with one continuous line. My daughter's boyfriend, who also owns a Garmin running watch, inadvertently ran a Xmas tree shape which was seasonally appropriate and very funny.
My childish side really wants to experiment with the human Etch a Sketch idea but the lack of exercise and overindulgence of late has meant my ability to run falls far short of my ambition. But with regular training, stamina can only improve. The town will be my artistic playground!
I did, however, get a rather special present from my in-laws. With a little help from my husband, they bought me a Garmin Forerunner 10 GPS running watch. I love it because it is pink and part of the purchase price included a donation to Cancer Research - a charity close to my heart. I haven't quite worked out what all the buttons do yet but I love it because it records every mile that I run, my average minutes per mile and my best pace. I love it because I can upload my runs onto my personal profile on the Garmin website and compare stats and routes and see progress and set goals. It is hugely motivating.
I also love it because it sketches out the route I have run and shows it as a red line overlaid on a street map.
I couldn't help seeing the potential to use this feature to turn myself and my town into a giant Etch a Sketch. Just like the Etch a Sketch I played with as a child, I could make any shape (that within reason fits in with street geography) that can be made with one continuous line. My daughter's boyfriend, who also owns a Garmin running watch, inadvertently ran a Xmas tree shape which was seasonally appropriate and very funny.
My childish side really wants to experiment with the human Etch a Sketch idea but the lack of exercise and overindulgence of late has meant my ability to run falls far short of my ambition. But with regular training, stamina can only improve. The town will be my artistic playground!
Monday, 7 January 2013
What's Your Favourite Quality Street?
I visited a friend this weekend. A quick look into her post-Xmas larder reminded me very much of my own.
I'm sure it is a familiar sight. Boxes of chocolates, sweets, biscuits, alcohol. Avoidance of doing a supermarket stock up means there is precious little in the way of healthy options which is bad news when the excess festive poundage can be ignored no longer.
I have signed up for a 10K race in May. It will be the furthest I have ever run and I really want to do well. It will mean some serious training, healthy eating and a body restored to a lean mean running machine. It can be done!
I have demonstrated my commitment to a good diet by throwing away the last of the Xmas pud and mince pies. Christmas is over and the New Year New Me is just beginning.
During a forage into my larder I came across this.
We haven't had Quality Street for years, opting instead for Heroes and Celebrations, but they were always a big part of Christmas as a child. It was very nostalgic to reacquaint with the familiar assortment when we were given some this year.
Everyone has their favourite Quality Street chocolate. I love the orange creams, even though they aren't quite as I remember them. I'm sure they used to have a hard fondant centre with an orange colour to match the flavour. They are gooey and white now but still strangely appealing.
It does looks as though in our house, the blue Coconut Eclair wasn't anyone's favourite.
I'm sure it is a familiar sight. Boxes of chocolates, sweets, biscuits, alcohol. Avoidance of doing a supermarket stock up means there is precious little in the way of healthy options which is bad news when the excess festive poundage can be ignored no longer.
I have signed up for a 10K race in May. It will be the furthest I have ever run and I really want to do well. It will mean some serious training, healthy eating and a body restored to a lean mean running machine. It can be done!
I have demonstrated my commitment to a good diet by throwing away the last of the Xmas pud and mince pies. Christmas is over and the New Year New Me is just beginning.
During a forage into my larder I came across this.
We haven't had Quality Street for years, opting instead for Heroes and Celebrations, but they were always a big part of Christmas as a child. It was very nostalgic to reacquaint with the familiar assortment when we were given some this year.
Everyone has their favourite Quality Street chocolate. I love the orange creams, even though they aren't quite as I remember them. I'm sure they used to have a hard fondant centre with an orange colour to match the flavour. They are gooey and white now but still strangely appealing.
It does looks as though in our house, the blue Coconut Eclair wasn't anyone's favourite.
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Four Christmas Cakes
I was late making my Xmas cake this year and a little uninspired as how to decorate it. I also had the annual dilemma of when to actually cut it. I usually wait until Xmas day but more often than not, after the big Xmas dinner, mountains of chocolate and relatively little physical activity, nobody is in the mood for rich fruit cake. I always seem to miss the moment which makes me wonder why I bothered to make it in the first place.
This year I had a plan.
My parents were coming for a pre-Xmas dinner and I wanted to serve cake to them. I also wanted cake to serve other guests we were expecting and an uncut cake for Xmas day (just in case).
I cut my square cake into four equal quarters.
I decorated each quarter differently and had particular fun making icing and marzipan snowmen for one creation. Nothing was planned. I just made it up as I went along.
Three different cakes were available for my three different occasions and the fourth quarter which I left un-iced, wrapped with a ribbon and decorated with glace cherries, remained for our New Year's celebrations.
My four mini cakes may not have had the impact of one show stopping centre piece but it worked brilliantly for what I wanted.
This year I had a plan.
My parents were coming for a pre-Xmas dinner and I wanted to serve cake to them. I also wanted cake to serve other guests we were expecting and an uncut cake for Xmas day (just in case).
I cut my square cake into four equal quarters.
I decorated each quarter differently and had particular fun making icing and marzipan snowmen for one creation. Nothing was planned. I just made it up as I went along.
Three different cakes were available for my three different occasions and the fourth quarter which I left un-iced, wrapped with a ribbon and decorated with glace cherries, remained for our New Year's celebrations.
My four mini cakes may not have had the impact of one show stopping centre piece but it worked brilliantly for what I wanted.
Next year I may go back to making one carefully planned show stopper but it is good to know that this alternative approach worked so well.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
A young life cut tragically short
Life feels a little bit surreal right now.
I had a lovely afternoon yesterday when special friends visited and a lovely evening playing board games and drinking beer with family friends who have come to mean a great deal to us. Somewhere in between these two events filled with laughter, I found out the devastating news that a young man well known in the community (not least because of the coffee business he was involved with) had lost his life in a fatal accident when his car collided with a tree.
He was one of four brothers and I always felt that the family balanced my family of four daughters (before the two little ones from my second marriage came along). Their grandparents are warm and welcoming people that live across the road from me.
It was really hard to believe that this young man, so vibrant and full of potential, was dead.
My daughters remembered how he had given them free hot chocolate to warm themselves when they had been busking at the farmers market next to his coffee van last Christmas.
We lit a candle a for him.
This morning, my daughter Charis was performing in a 'Soiree du Matin' organised by some of the people from the church where she plays piano. I was invited along and felt full of pride and admiration as I watched her play two solo piano pieces and several duets to an appreciative audience.
Back home, Charis saw the following message on Facebook:
"For anyone who's available and wants to come and lay flowers today for my beautiful brother then we're meeting at the Red Lion at 1:30 and heading down to the site for 2pm, all support is welcomed with open arms."
We dropped everything we were doing to dash to Morrisons for flowers and joined the party of people, all demonstrating a similar air of disbelief. It was the hardest thing. The jollity of Christmas-time contrasted so starkly with this stunned sorrow. The road where the accident had occurred was closed while flowers were laid and tears shed
Pirate bunting draped across the tree and his hockey sticks amongst the flowers were a poignant reflection of the life cut tragically short.
There are no words that can ease the pain of the parents who have lost their son or the boys who have lost a much loved brother but I hope that the show of support helps in some small way as they all come to terms with what has happened and try to move forwards with their lives.
It has been a very sobering experience me and my girls.
Life is so fragile, so unpredictable. Anything can happen to anyone at anytime.
So live life well. Appreciate all that you have. Smile and treat each day as the miracle that it is.
I had a lovely afternoon yesterday when special friends visited and a lovely evening playing board games and drinking beer with family friends who have come to mean a great deal to us. Somewhere in between these two events filled with laughter, I found out the devastating news that a young man well known in the community (not least because of the coffee business he was involved with) had lost his life in a fatal accident when his car collided with a tree.
He was one of four brothers and I always felt that the family balanced my family of four daughters (before the two little ones from my second marriage came along). Their grandparents are warm and welcoming people that live across the road from me.
It was really hard to believe that this young man, so vibrant and full of potential, was dead.
My daughters remembered how he had given them free hot chocolate to warm themselves when they had been busking at the farmers market next to his coffee van last Christmas.
We lit a candle a for him.
This morning, my daughter Charis was performing in a 'Soiree du Matin' organised by some of the people from the church where she plays piano. I was invited along and felt full of pride and admiration as I watched her play two solo piano pieces and several duets to an appreciative audience.
Back home, Charis saw the following message on Facebook:
"For anyone who's available and wants to come and lay flowers today for my beautiful brother then we're meeting at the Red Lion at 1:30 and heading down to the site for 2pm, all support is welcomed with open arms."
We dropped everything we were doing to dash to Morrisons for flowers and joined the party of people, all demonstrating a similar air of disbelief. It was the hardest thing. The jollity of Christmas-time contrasted so starkly with this stunned sorrow. The road where the accident had occurred was closed while flowers were laid and tears shed
There are no words that can ease the pain of the parents who have lost their son or the boys who have lost a much loved brother but I hope that the show of support helps in some small way as they all come to terms with what has happened and try to move forwards with their lives.
It has been a very sobering experience me and my girls.
Life is so fragile, so unpredictable. Anything can happen to anyone at anytime.
So live life well. Appreciate all that you have. Smile and treat each day as the miracle that it is.
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Christmas Present
My daughter Charis has aspirations to train as a medic. To show our support for her noble ambition, we decided to buy her a full sized anatomical skeleton for Christmas. We ordered it online and it arrived in a large box which would look impressive wrapped.
We didn't wrap it.
We opened it, assembled it and hung it from its mobile stand.
Then we wrapped it.
Obviously, this all had to be done after Charis had retired to her room on Christmas Eve (it would have been impossible to conceal in all its full height glory). We were performing a wrapping operation that was more akin to a mummification at 1o'clock on Christmas morning. It was a delicate procedure and I felt that I had properly earned the freshly laundered sheets on my bed and the bottle of champagne that was chilling in an ice bucket upstairs.
Thankfully, we didn't have a ridiculously early start on Christmas morning... in fact Dylan had a good sleep in, albeit at the bottom of my bed (perhaps he appreciates the fresh sheet sensation too)
I hadn't gone overboard with stocking presents this year as I usually do but my parents had stuffed stockings full for each of my children. While they sat on my bed making new discoveries with every dip inside, I was able to wake up gently with a cup of tea.
Breakfast of warm bread and Bucks Fizz made from leftover champagne got my day off to a great start. There were presents aplenty to be unwrapped and played with and a Christmas dinner for seven that would easily have fed twice that many.
I do regret not getting out of the house for a post dinner walk at the very least to combat the familiar Xmas bloating but the weather was dull and drizzly and not very inviting. Dull and drizzly and mild so I missed having the fire ablaze. We did try it briefly but everyone started to overheat. I lit candles instead.
Everyone loved their presents (always a relief). Addy's gift of a nurse's outfit and medical bag from her Grandma and Grandpa may sow the early seeds for her to follow in her big sister's Doctor footsteps.
We didn't wrap it.
We opened it, assembled it and hung it from its mobile stand.
Then we wrapped it.
Obviously, this all had to be done after Charis had retired to her room on Christmas Eve (it would have been impossible to conceal in all its full height glory). We were performing a wrapping operation that was more akin to a mummification at 1o'clock on Christmas morning. It was a delicate procedure and I felt that I had properly earned the freshly laundered sheets on my bed and the bottle of champagne that was chilling in an ice bucket upstairs.
Thankfully, we didn't have a ridiculously early start on Christmas morning... in fact Dylan had a good sleep in, albeit at the bottom of my bed (perhaps he appreciates the fresh sheet sensation too)
I hadn't gone overboard with stocking presents this year as I usually do but my parents had stuffed stockings full for each of my children. While they sat on my bed making new discoveries with every dip inside, I was able to wake up gently with a cup of tea.
Breakfast of warm bread and Bucks Fizz made from leftover champagne got my day off to a great start. There were presents aplenty to be unwrapped and played with and a Christmas dinner for seven that would easily have fed twice that many.
I do regret not getting out of the house for a post dinner walk at the very least to combat the familiar Xmas bloating but the weather was dull and drizzly and not very inviting. Dull and drizzly and mild so I missed having the fire ablaze. We did try it briefly but everyone started to overheat. I lit candles instead.
Everyone loved their presents (always a relief). Addy's gift of a nurse's outfit and medical bag from her Grandma and Grandpa may sow the early seeds for her to follow in her big sister's Doctor footsteps.
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If you are wondering what Charis thought of her unusually wrapped gift.... let's say she was more than a little bit pleased!
Monday, 24 December 2012
'Tis the Night Before Xmas
It's Christmas Eve. The presents are wrapped. There is an air of eager anticipation.
Before we all settle down for the 'last sleep', we have a Christingle service to attend (Charis will be playing all seven Carols to accompany the congregation), Carol singing around the Christmas tree in town (I hope it stops raining!) then back home for a Mexican banquet, scattering the magic reindeer food on the lawn and a new tradition this year invented by little Addy - blowing bubbles filled with wishes. That completed, all that will remain will be to put the mince pie and drink out for a deserving Santa.
I am smiling at the thought of how excited the little ones will be tonight as I tuck them up in their beds. With all the warm feeling that that brings me, I wish all my friends, family and faithful blog readers:
Before we all settle down for the 'last sleep', we have a Christingle service to attend (Charis will be playing all seven Carols to accompany the congregation), Carol singing around the Christmas tree in town (I hope it stops raining!) then back home for a Mexican banquet, scattering the magic reindeer food on the lawn and a new tradition this year invented by little Addy - blowing bubbles filled with wishes. That completed, all that will remain will be to put the mince pie and drink out for a deserving Santa.
I am smiling at the thought of how excited the little ones will be tonight as I tuck them up in their beds. With all the warm feeling that that brings me, I wish all my friends, family and faithful blog readers:
A Joyful and Merry Christmas
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| Hallowe'en Arts and Crafts Project gets a festive makeover |
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Saturday, 22 December 2012
Getting that Christmassy feeling
How nice to have a few moments to blog, even if it is only while I'm waiting for biscuits to cook for an afternoon of visitors tomorrow.
The last day of term yesterday went by in a blur of activity.
I spent the morning preparing as much as I possibly could prepare in advance for a Xmas dinner with my parents and the afternoon watching my little girl in church with her schoolmates singing Carols. It was a lovely service and although I neglected to pick up the sheet with the words to the Carols, I surprised myself with how many I knew confidently by heart (Hymns and Carol singing featured quite heavily when I was at school).
Back home, it was all systems GO to get the Xmas dinner ready. I made a pie with quorn fillets and homemade mushroom pate that turned out well enough that my dad took the leftovers home with him for his lunch next day.
Despite telling us the interest on his savings was virtually non-existence these days so he would not be spending as much on Christmas presents this year, my dad came laden with festively wrapped gifts and a large Santa sack containing surprises that he was itching to distribute. After dinner, his impatience could be contained no longer. He did not take much persuasion to put on a Santa outfit (probably still a bit sweaty from my Santa Run) and with an exuberant flourish, emptied the contents of the sack onto my coffee table. Sweets and chocolates and biscuits and a packet of monkey nuts (!) cascaded into a tantalising pile of goodies and inevitably, a feeding frenzy ensued.
The kids LOVED it.
Once the initial wave of overindulgence had subsided, I did manage to make some sense of my dad's generous contribution to the Xmas confection, putting some away for the days to come but leaving enough to keep the children feeling thoroughly spoiled.
My parents are amazingly fit and well for their age but they do get tired and do like to be back in their own home at a reasonable time. After they left, we had enough evening remaining to play a fiercely competitive game of Family Fortunes (complete with buzzer that made the trademark 'Uh-Uh" sound when a wrong answer was given). It was great fun.
The following day, my husband and I had been invited to a our daughter's house for mince pies and coffee. Although my daughter and her boyfriend have been a couple for longer than my husband and I have (only just!), we have never been formally introduced to his parents and certainly have never been all under the same roof at the same time. The coffee and mince pie invitation was the opportunity to put this right.
I really enjoyed sitting in my daughter's living room which almost a year ago we had been busy decorating and preparing for them to move in. I remembered how freezing cold it was then and how my fingers would became too numb to hold a paintbrush. Now it was warm and cosy with lights twinkling on the beautifully decorated tree that was my Xmas gift to them, the smell of freshly made coffee and plates of dainty nibbles. It was perfect.
I spent the afternoon trying to get my kitchen organised for our Christmas celebrations. My husband returned from an expedition to a local farm shop with the little ones with a brussel sprout tree, a sack of unwashed spuds, some odd looking carrots, some beautiful parsnips and a little boy desperately in need of a change of clothes after jumping in too many muddy puddles.
It has been a wonderfully packed, festive couple of days but nothing says Christmas to me quite as much as a brussel sprout tree.
The last day of term yesterday went by in a blur of activity.
I spent the morning preparing as much as I possibly could prepare in advance for a Xmas dinner with my parents and the afternoon watching my little girl in church with her schoolmates singing Carols. It was a lovely service and although I neglected to pick up the sheet with the words to the Carols, I surprised myself with how many I knew confidently by heart (Hymns and Carol singing featured quite heavily when I was at school).
Back home, it was all systems GO to get the Xmas dinner ready. I made a pie with quorn fillets and homemade mushroom pate that turned out well enough that my dad took the leftovers home with him for his lunch next day.
Despite telling us the interest on his savings was virtually non-existence these days so he would not be spending as much on Christmas presents this year, my dad came laden with festively wrapped gifts and a large Santa sack containing surprises that he was itching to distribute. After dinner, his impatience could be contained no longer. He did not take much persuasion to put on a Santa outfit (probably still a bit sweaty from my Santa Run) and with an exuberant flourish, emptied the contents of the sack onto my coffee table. Sweets and chocolates and biscuits and a packet of monkey nuts (!) cascaded into a tantalising pile of goodies and inevitably, a feeding frenzy ensued.
The kids LOVED it.
Once the initial wave of overindulgence had subsided, I did manage to make some sense of my dad's generous contribution to the Xmas confection, putting some away for the days to come but leaving enough to keep the children feeling thoroughly spoiled.
My parents are amazingly fit and well for their age but they do get tired and do like to be back in their own home at a reasonable time. After they left, we had enough evening remaining to play a fiercely competitive game of Family Fortunes (complete with buzzer that made the trademark 'Uh-Uh" sound when a wrong answer was given). It was great fun.
The following day, my husband and I had been invited to a our daughter's house for mince pies and coffee. Although my daughter and her boyfriend have been a couple for longer than my husband and I have (only just!), we have never been formally introduced to his parents and certainly have never been all under the same roof at the same time. The coffee and mince pie invitation was the opportunity to put this right.
I really enjoyed sitting in my daughter's living room which almost a year ago we had been busy decorating and preparing for them to move in. I remembered how freezing cold it was then and how my fingers would became too numb to hold a paintbrush. Now it was warm and cosy with lights twinkling on the beautifully decorated tree that was my Xmas gift to them, the smell of freshly made coffee and plates of dainty nibbles. It was perfect.
I spent the afternoon trying to get my kitchen organised for our Christmas celebrations. My husband returned from an expedition to a local farm shop with the little ones with a brussel sprout tree, a sack of unwashed spuds, some odd looking carrots, some beautiful parsnips and a little boy desperately in need of a change of clothes after jumping in too many muddy puddles.
It has been a wonderfully packed, festive couple of days but nothing says Christmas to me quite as much as a brussel sprout tree.
Friday, 21 December 2012
Good News/ Bad News
It has been a Good News/ Bad News couple of days.
Good News: Husband is off work so we head to town for Xmas shopping with the promise of lunch out. Find some great things to buy in the first shop we visit.
Bad News: At the checkout, Husband realises he's lost his wallet.
Good News: He says it only had a few pounds in it and cancels the credit card.
Bad News: I don't feel like carrying on with the shopping trip even though there is one gift I still really wanted to buy.
Good News: He finds the wallet at home.
Bad News: As he said it only had a few pounds in it we can't even celebrate being reunited with the cash and splash out on a takeaway.
Good News: I manage to find a substitute for the one gift in our local Argos.
Bad News: The Argos catalogue picture did not show how small and tatty the gift was in reality.
Good News: My money was refunded by a cheerful and friendly assistant.
Bad News: Back to square one in terms of the one gift I wanted to buy.
Good News: Found the perfect gift online.
Bad News: Anxious wait to see if the promised 'delivery before Xmas' would be upheld.
Good News: Daughter Taylor's A level Presentation evening gave us an opportunity to forget about Xmas for a moment and celebrate her incredible achievements.
Bad News: A mix up over babysitting meant I had to take my two little ones along to what would be a boring event for them.
Good News: They were both behaving beautifully.
Bad News: Little Dylan started coughing so badly that he vomited - in copious volume - and strongly scented of the banana he had consumed before we left.
Good News: Caretaker efficiently dealt with vile, wreaking, viscous stomach contents and Husband turned up at that exact moment to help me bundle the sick drenched child out and into his car seat. A bath towel left in the car for me to sit on after the passenger window was inadvertently left open all night in the rain came in handy for wiping off undigested banana chunks and protecting the upholstery.
Bad News: Missed Taylor collecting her certificates.
Good News: Once Dylan and I had peeled off our soiled clothes and jumped in a bath together, his mood (and mine) were much improved.
Bad News: A rather unpleasant pile of laundry awaited me.
Good News: Taylor returned with her certificates and two awards that she had been presented with for excellence in Mathematics and Overall Achievement.
Bad News: The post-presentation glass of wine and mince pie with my name on were enjoyed by someone else.
Good News: A parcel arrived this morning. It was the gift I had ordered online.
Good News: Husband is off work so we head to town for Xmas shopping with the promise of lunch out. Find some great things to buy in the first shop we visit.
Bad News: At the checkout, Husband realises he's lost his wallet.
Good News: He says it only had a few pounds in it and cancels the credit card.
Bad News: I don't feel like carrying on with the shopping trip even though there is one gift I still really wanted to buy.
Good News: He finds the wallet at home.
Bad News: As he said it only had a few pounds in it we can't even celebrate being reunited with the cash and splash out on a takeaway.
Good News: I manage to find a substitute for the one gift in our local Argos.
Bad News: The Argos catalogue picture did not show how small and tatty the gift was in reality.
Good News: My money was refunded by a cheerful and friendly assistant.
Bad News: Back to square one in terms of the one gift I wanted to buy.
Good News: Found the perfect gift online.
Bad News: Anxious wait to see if the promised 'delivery before Xmas' would be upheld.
Good News: Daughter Taylor's A level Presentation evening gave us an opportunity to forget about Xmas for a moment and celebrate her incredible achievements.
Bad News: A mix up over babysitting meant I had to take my two little ones along to what would be a boring event for them.
Good News: They were both behaving beautifully.
Bad News: Little Dylan started coughing so badly that he vomited - in copious volume - and strongly scented of the banana he had consumed before we left.
Good News: Caretaker efficiently dealt with vile, wreaking, viscous stomach contents and Husband turned up at that exact moment to help me bundle the sick drenched child out and into his car seat. A bath towel left in the car for me to sit on after the passenger window was inadvertently left open all night in the rain came in handy for wiping off undigested banana chunks and protecting the upholstery.
Bad News: Missed Taylor collecting her certificates.
Good News: Once Dylan and I had peeled off our soiled clothes and jumped in a bath together, his mood (and mine) were much improved.
Bad News: A rather unpleasant pile of laundry awaited me.
Good News: Taylor returned with her certificates and two awards that she had been presented with for excellence in Mathematics and Overall Achievement.
Bad News: The post-presentation glass of wine and mince pie with my name on were enjoyed by someone else.
Good News: A parcel arrived this morning. It was the gift I had ordered online.
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
A Visit from Kirk
It has been a few days since I sat down at my keyboard and let the thoughts in my mind spill out onto the computer screen. Time is exhibiting that strange elastic quality where things that happened within days feel like weeks ago. I am hoping that as I type, the memories I want to share will sort themselves into some sort of sensible order.
On Saturday, my very wonderful friend Kirk came for his annual Xmas visit. In a classic case of too much going on, I also had tickets that evening for my husband and I to attend our glamorous Black and Red Ball organised by the Dance School we are members of. Kirk volunteered to help my older daughters babysit my little ones while I waltzed, jived and foxtrotted the night away (I did mention that Kirk was very wonderful) and he even bought a couple of new release DVDs to make a movie night of it. The Mince Pie flavoured popcorn remained unopened ( Kirk is a very wonderful friend with a sometimes alarmingly experimental taste in snacks) but the movie night was much appreciated and enjoyed.
I loved the Ball. I didn't exactly feel like a princess in an old black and red dress that belonged to one of my daughters and hair that I'd barely had time to brush, let alone style, but the heart of a dancer (albeit a pretty rubbish one) beat within me. We watched an amazing demonstration of ballroom at its best by reigning professional champions, Warren and Kristi Boyce. Kristi's costumes were as stunning as the smiles were fixed. I did not at any time try to recreate their grace, strength and fluidity during the 'general dancing' segments but my latin 'hip action' did seem to improve exponentially with amount of red wine consumed.
It was a great night let down slightly by shoes and vegetarianism.
In terms of shoes, I had never got round to buying myself the sort of sparkly fabulous dancing shoes that my mother in law has in abundance (unfortunately we do not share the same shoe size) so I wore my training dance shoes which are practical, great to dance in and hideously ugly. My husband on the other hand had his 'Freed of London Patent ballroom shoes' - but they gave him blisters!!
As for being vegetarian, the meal started reasonably well with a tomato and basil soup but when the spinach and ricotta cannelloni was served in a tomato and basil sauce suspiciously similar to the previous course, I began to look longingly at the turkey with all the trimmngs. However, the brussel sprouts were so undercooked that any attempt to stab them with a fork had the tendency to send them off on an unpredictable trajectory across the tablecloth. Maybe the cannelloni was not such a bad option after all.
The morning after the ball, I found out that my daughter Charis had achieved a Pass with Distinction in her grade 5 piano exam. I could not express in any normal way how proud I was of her so instead began a relentless campaign to trick her into passing me things, allowing me to pass or getting her to pass me after which I could declare that she had 'passsed with distinction'. During Sunday dinner, our guest of honour, Kirk (who as well as being a wonderful friend is the master of the pun) almost manage to pull off a 'Parsnip with distinction' moment but by now Charis was getting wise to the carefull manipulation of circumstances to make the tricks work. It was my aim to catch her unawares 10 times before midnight. I think I may have amassed double that target!
I was incredibly proud of Charis for passing her grade five (with distinction!) and just as proud of what a good sport she was about my chosen method of rejoicing in the fact. The following day, Kirk and I collaborated to put together a celebration cake for her. She didn't realise for some hours that the chocolate fingers were arranged to look like the keys of a piano but I think she was pleased!
I had further reason to be filled with pride by Charis. On Sunday evening she played piano and sang in the local church's Carols by Candlelight service. I love Carol Services and missed the one I usually attend because it clashed with my little Addy's Xmas Play. It was wonderful to see Charis, confident and serene as a member of the choir and astonishingly good as she played the accompaniment to a lovely little song I'd never heard before called This Tiny Child. A single tear did escape from my eye as I felt moved by the story of the Nativity.
I was less moved by the sermon which attempted to describe the infant Jesus in 9 words "He cries. He Wees. He saves the World. Godbaby". It didn't really do it for me on any level!
My little ones were not too embarrassingly noisy as they played with toys and did arts and crafts in the area especially designated for such activity.
As Monday saw my husband back at work and the kids back at school, Kirk and I enjoyed a relatively calm day doing a bit of local shopping, planning the piano cake and cooking dinner. My calm was well and truly shattered when my eldest daughter came round for our weekly run with the running club. It was not my daughter's arrival that shattered the calm or even the run per se. It was the rain.
In all the months that I have been running regularly, the worst the weather has thrown in my direction has been a little light drizzle. Not so on this occasion. It seemed as though all the rain we had thus far managed to avoid had saved itself up to create the sort of downpour that would probably have been familiar to Noah during the forty days and nights of Biblical flooding. Baggy shorts and trousers took on the appearance of skin tight lycra as sodden fabric clung to legs. I have never been so soaked through. Three miles of splashing along in surface water and deeper puddles, unable to generate enough body heat to counter the icy wetness against skin does not sound like fun - but I loved it. I felt very alive and when I did finally get home to discard saturated running gear and dry myself, the warm all over glow was incredible. It made me appreciate the simple pleasures of a cosy living room, unchallenging TV viewing and the company of loved ones.
Today, Kirk had to return to his home in London. A hearty veggie Wetherspoon breakfast marked the end of his visit. I loved every minute of his stay and I wish I could see him (and several other dear friends that live all across the country) more regularly.
I am so grateful for the people in my life that support me, make me laugh, make me proud, share experiences and love me. Christmas is a good excuse to remember this.
On Saturday, my very wonderful friend Kirk came for his annual Xmas visit. In a classic case of too much going on, I also had tickets that evening for my husband and I to attend our glamorous Black and Red Ball organised by the Dance School we are members of. Kirk volunteered to help my older daughters babysit my little ones while I waltzed, jived and foxtrotted the night away (I did mention that Kirk was very wonderful) and he even bought a couple of new release DVDs to make a movie night of it. The Mince Pie flavoured popcorn remained unopened ( Kirk is a very wonderful friend with a sometimes alarmingly experimental taste in snacks) but the movie night was much appreciated and enjoyed.
I loved the Ball. I didn't exactly feel like a princess in an old black and red dress that belonged to one of my daughters and hair that I'd barely had time to brush, let alone style, but the heart of a dancer (albeit a pretty rubbish one) beat within me. We watched an amazing demonstration of ballroom at its best by reigning professional champions, Warren and Kristi Boyce. Kristi's costumes were as stunning as the smiles were fixed. I did not at any time try to recreate their grace, strength and fluidity during the 'general dancing' segments but my latin 'hip action' did seem to improve exponentially with amount of red wine consumed.
It was a great night let down slightly by shoes and vegetarianism.
In terms of shoes, I had never got round to buying myself the sort of sparkly fabulous dancing shoes that my mother in law has in abundance (unfortunately we do not share the same shoe size) so I wore my training dance shoes which are practical, great to dance in and hideously ugly. My husband on the other hand had his 'Freed of London Patent ballroom shoes' - but they gave him blisters!!
As for being vegetarian, the meal started reasonably well with a tomato and basil soup but when the spinach and ricotta cannelloni was served in a tomato and basil sauce suspiciously similar to the previous course, I began to look longingly at the turkey with all the trimmngs. However, the brussel sprouts were so undercooked that any attempt to stab them with a fork had the tendency to send them off on an unpredictable trajectory across the tablecloth. Maybe the cannelloni was not such a bad option after all.
The morning after the ball, I found out that my daughter Charis had achieved a Pass with Distinction in her grade 5 piano exam. I could not express in any normal way how proud I was of her so instead began a relentless campaign to trick her into passing me things, allowing me to pass or getting her to pass me after which I could declare that she had 'passsed with distinction'. During Sunday dinner, our guest of honour, Kirk (who as well as being a wonderful friend is the master of the pun) almost manage to pull off a 'Parsnip with distinction' moment but by now Charis was getting wise to the carefull manipulation of circumstances to make the tricks work. It was my aim to catch her unawares 10 times before midnight. I think I may have amassed double that target!
 |
| Charis with Kirk deliberating his "Pass-nip with Distinction" pun |
I was incredibly proud of Charis for passing her grade five (with distinction!) and just as proud of what a good sport she was about my chosen method of rejoicing in the fact. The following day, Kirk and I collaborated to put together a celebration cake for her. She didn't realise for some hours that the chocolate fingers were arranged to look like the keys of a piano but I think she was pleased!
I had further reason to be filled with pride by Charis. On Sunday evening she played piano and sang in the local church's Carols by Candlelight service. I love Carol Services and missed the one I usually attend because it clashed with my little Addy's Xmas Play. It was wonderful to see Charis, confident and serene as a member of the choir and astonishingly good as she played the accompaniment to a lovely little song I'd never heard before called This Tiny Child. A single tear did escape from my eye as I felt moved by the story of the Nativity.
I was less moved by the sermon which attempted to describe the infant Jesus in 9 words "He cries. He Wees. He saves the World. Godbaby". It didn't really do it for me on any level!
My little ones were not too embarrassingly noisy as they played with toys and did arts and crafts in the area especially designated for such activity.
As Monday saw my husband back at work and the kids back at school, Kirk and I enjoyed a relatively calm day doing a bit of local shopping, planning the piano cake and cooking dinner. My calm was well and truly shattered when my eldest daughter came round for our weekly run with the running club. It was not my daughter's arrival that shattered the calm or even the run per se. It was the rain.
In all the months that I have been running regularly, the worst the weather has thrown in my direction has been a little light drizzle. Not so on this occasion. It seemed as though all the rain we had thus far managed to avoid had saved itself up to create the sort of downpour that would probably have been familiar to Noah during the forty days and nights of Biblical flooding. Baggy shorts and trousers took on the appearance of skin tight lycra as sodden fabric clung to legs. I have never been so soaked through. Three miles of splashing along in surface water and deeper puddles, unable to generate enough body heat to counter the icy wetness against skin does not sound like fun - but I loved it. I felt very alive and when I did finally get home to discard saturated running gear and dry myself, the warm all over glow was incredible. It made me appreciate the simple pleasures of a cosy living room, unchallenging TV viewing and the company of loved ones.
Today, Kirk had to return to his home in London. A hearty veggie Wetherspoon breakfast marked the end of his visit. I loved every minute of his stay and I wish I could see him (and several other dear friends that live all across the country) more regularly.
I am so grateful for the people in my life that support me, make me laugh, make me proud, share experiences and love me. Christmas is a good excuse to remember this.
Friday, 14 December 2012
Advent Calendars
It was a completely rubbish night for meteor watching last night but at least the cloud cover kept the temperature above zero for the morning school run. If I'd had a car to defrost, we would not have made it for registration. As it was, Dylan had to sport the pyjamas and wellies look because time did not allow for actually getting him dressed.
If I thought that the morning after the school play was a struggle to get the children out of bed, today was even worse. It seems such a shame to disturb two perfectly peaceful slumbering angels to unleash the disgruntled monsters desperate to return to warm duvets and dreams of the innocent.
I do at least have one secret weapon to calm the raging beasts and get the day moving forward in the way that it needs to - the Advent Calendar.
On the first of December when terrible 2 year old Dylan threw a tantrum because he didn't understand the concept of 'one chocolate a day until Xmas' and wanted to open all his windows there and then, I never would have imagined what an asset the advent calendars would turn out to be.
He's a bright little thing, my Dylan. He worked out that it was a daily 'pre-breakfast confectionary' treat and played by the rules from day two. Both he and big sister Addy look forward to the ritual of finding the right numbered windows, poking at the perforations to open them, ripping at the foil to free the promised sweetness within and finally, with chocolate melting on warm tongues, reading the little messages printed inside the cardboard flaps. All this before the toast in the toaster has even thought about popping.
My little savages torn from sleep are transformed miraculously into compliant, co-operative darlings at the merest mention of the Advent Calendars - like a Supernanny instant makeover.
Until now, I have not been a fan of chocolate advent calendars. I have a fabric Xmas tree with 24 little pockets, each containing a hanging decoration. As the days of December pass, the bare tree becomes fully adorned with pretty ornaments. I like the idea that it builds into something beautiful as it counts the days until Christmas rather than the chocolate advent calendars that become increasingly tattered and unsightly.
Now I am fully converted to the chocolate side. I see beauty in the ragged windows. My morning ally. The best couple of pounds I've spent all year.
If I thought that the morning after the school play was a struggle to get the children out of bed, today was even worse. It seems such a shame to disturb two perfectly peaceful slumbering angels to unleash the disgruntled monsters desperate to return to warm duvets and dreams of the innocent.
I do at least have one secret weapon to calm the raging beasts and get the day moving forward in the way that it needs to - the Advent Calendar.
On the first of December when terrible 2 year old Dylan threw a tantrum because he didn't understand the concept of 'one chocolate a day until Xmas' and wanted to open all his windows there and then, I never would have imagined what an asset the advent calendars would turn out to be.
He's a bright little thing, my Dylan. He worked out that it was a daily 'pre-breakfast confectionary' treat and played by the rules from day two. Both he and big sister Addy look forward to the ritual of finding the right numbered windows, poking at the perforations to open them, ripping at the foil to free the promised sweetness within and finally, with chocolate melting on warm tongues, reading the little messages printed inside the cardboard flaps. All this before the toast in the toaster has even thought about popping.
My little savages torn from sleep are transformed miraculously into compliant, co-operative darlings at the merest mention of the Advent Calendars - like a Supernanny instant makeover.
Until now, I have not been a fan of chocolate advent calendars. I have a fabric Xmas tree with 24 little pockets, each containing a hanging decoration. As the days of December pass, the bare tree becomes fully adorned with pretty ornaments. I like the idea that it builds into something beautiful as it counts the days until Christmas rather than the chocolate advent calendars that become increasingly tattered and unsightly.
Now I am fully converted to the chocolate side. I see beauty in the ragged windows. My morning ally. The best couple of pounds I've spent all year.
Thursday, 13 December 2012
A School Christmas Play
As I opened a bleary eye this morning to see that the numbers on the clock were telling me it was 8:10 - the time we would normally be up and dressed and having breakfast - I didn't panic too much. I remembered that the kids had been fiddling with the buttons on it yesterday and had probably changed the time. When I turned over in my lovely warm bed and saw that the clock on my radio also said 8:10 - then I panicked!
I managed to drag myself out of bed with the cold cup of coffee on the bedside cabinet seeming to say in a mocking tone - It's your own fault. You should have woken up when I was brought up to you by a faithful husband an hour ago.
Both little ones were still fast asleep.
The reason for their exhaustion and need to sleep was that last night was my little Addy's first school play - an evening performance taking place in our local community owned Festival Drayton Centre which meant a proper stage, tiered seating and an air of great importance. Personally I would have been happy with a makeshift stage and rows of tiny school chairs crammed too close together in a school hall but there was no denying the sense of occasion.
The play was called "Children of the World" and showcased how children all over the world celebrate Christmas. Addy was cast as Poland.
The costume requirement was a bit vague. If I had had the time, I would have googled the Polish National Dress, scoured charity shops for something suitable and even dusted off my sewing machine. Needless to say - I didn't. With what we had at home and big sister Taylor picking up a little waistcoat from Primark on a well timed shopping trip, we cobbled together the 'boy' interpretation of the costume. Addy looked absolutely delightful but she was not overly impressed.
Neither was she overly impressed with the idea of rehearsals. I was taken to one side by her teacher to be told that she was refusing to join in. When I questioned Addy about it she said that she didn't want to be tripped up on stage. Trying to get inside the mind of a four year old I surmised that it must be quite overwhelming with the whole school involved in the production and lots of movement on and off stage. I reassured her. I told her how proud I'd be to watch her. I tried bribery. I played the Santa card - I bet Santa will leave you an extra special present under the tree if you join in. I waited to see what would happen at the next rehearsal.
She still didn't join in.
Although she was not actually taking part, she was watching and learning. She knew the dance routines. She knew the songs. She had one last chance to overcome her reluctance at the dress rehearsal before the actual performance. I wasn't holding my breath.
Last year, I turned up at the festive setting of Addy's nursery school to delight in my little angel singing Christmas songs with her tiny classmates. The reality was a grumpy Mini Grinch who sullenly refused to sing a single note. Last night, these memories flooded back as I sat in C13 awaiting the start of the show.
She was sat at the back (maybe deliberately) and looked very tiny surrounded by older children. After the introduction, Poland was the first country up on stage to share their Xmas traditions with an eager audience.
Addy awkwardly joined the back of the line of children representing Poland. Each child collected a glittery star from the props lady as they climbed the steps onto stage. Each child except Addy. As she held out her little hand, there were no more stars to hand to her. I guess that as she had not been joining in with the rehearsals, she was not counted and therefore not enough stars were made. I could have cried. I sensed her discomfort as she stood on the stage, starless. The other children launched themselves into their lines and song and dance as Addy stood apart from them fighting back tears. She lost the fight. She didn't just burst into tears - she exploded.
I felt powerless. From the second row back I was so close to my distraught little daughter... yet so far.
Thankfully, the headmaster did his best to sneak discreetly onto stage (he is not a small man!) and scooped her off. He calmed her down and gave her the job of assistant to prop lady.
As 'Poland' she was a disaster. As 'Assistant to Prop Lady' she was fantastic. I could see how much she loved being involved and handing out the various props to the next set of actors waiting for their moment in the spotlight. No more awkwardness and reluctance - just enthusiasm and efficiency.
She was persuaded to go up on stage for the finale - a heartwarming whole school rendition of a song called We are the Children of the World. For a brief moment she joined in with the singing and the actions and I was given a glimpse of the little star she could have been - but mostly her interest lay in what was going on offstage and behind the curtains.
As we made our way back home I asked her if she had enjoyed herself and she answered with a resounding yes. I suppose that is all that really matters.
A late night and much excitement with a little raw emotion thrown into the mix did result in the over sleeping next morning.
It was a rush to get to school but we made it just before the start of registration. I breathed a sigh of relief. Today of all days, an OFSTED official loitered in the classroom with his clipboard of doom. I gave Addy a quick kiss goodbye and was about to make my hasty retreat when the same look descended over her face as I had seen last night when she stood empty handed on stage with the star waving children of Poland. I willed her to hold it together, to sit calmly on the carpet, to wait for her name to be called and answer with a upbeat and 'ready for the day' - Yes, Mrs Buckley.
She didn't.
I managed to drag myself out of bed with the cold cup of coffee on the bedside cabinet seeming to say in a mocking tone - It's your own fault. You should have woken up when I was brought up to you by a faithful husband an hour ago.
Both little ones were still fast asleep.
The reason for their exhaustion and need to sleep was that last night was my little Addy's first school play - an evening performance taking place in our local community owned Festival Drayton Centre which meant a proper stage, tiered seating and an air of great importance. Personally I would have been happy with a makeshift stage and rows of tiny school chairs crammed too close together in a school hall but there was no denying the sense of occasion.
The play was called "Children of the World" and showcased how children all over the world celebrate Christmas. Addy was cast as Poland.
The costume requirement was a bit vague. If I had had the time, I would have googled the Polish National Dress, scoured charity shops for something suitable and even dusted off my sewing machine. Needless to say - I didn't. With what we had at home and big sister Taylor picking up a little waistcoat from Primark on a well timed shopping trip, we cobbled together the 'boy' interpretation of the costume. Addy looked absolutely delightful but she was not overly impressed.
Neither was she overly impressed with the idea of rehearsals. I was taken to one side by her teacher to be told that she was refusing to join in. When I questioned Addy about it she said that she didn't want to be tripped up on stage. Trying to get inside the mind of a four year old I surmised that it must be quite overwhelming with the whole school involved in the production and lots of movement on and off stage. I reassured her. I told her how proud I'd be to watch her. I tried bribery. I played the Santa card - I bet Santa will leave you an extra special present under the tree if you join in. I waited to see what would happen at the next rehearsal.
She still didn't join in.
Although she was not actually taking part, she was watching and learning. She knew the dance routines. She knew the songs. She had one last chance to overcome her reluctance at the dress rehearsal before the actual performance. I wasn't holding my breath.
Last year, I turned up at the festive setting of Addy's nursery school to delight in my little angel singing Christmas songs with her tiny classmates. The reality was a grumpy Mini Grinch who sullenly refused to sing a single note. Last night, these memories flooded back as I sat in C13 awaiting the start of the show.
She was sat at the back (maybe deliberately) and looked very tiny surrounded by older children. After the introduction, Poland was the first country up on stage to share their Xmas traditions with an eager audience.
Addy awkwardly joined the back of the line of children representing Poland. Each child collected a glittery star from the props lady as they climbed the steps onto stage. Each child except Addy. As she held out her little hand, there were no more stars to hand to her. I guess that as she had not been joining in with the rehearsals, she was not counted and therefore not enough stars were made. I could have cried. I sensed her discomfort as she stood on the stage, starless. The other children launched themselves into their lines and song and dance as Addy stood apart from them fighting back tears. She lost the fight. She didn't just burst into tears - she exploded.
I felt powerless. From the second row back I was so close to my distraught little daughter... yet so far.
Thankfully, the headmaster did his best to sneak discreetly onto stage (he is not a small man!) and scooped her off. He calmed her down and gave her the job of assistant to prop lady.
As 'Poland' she was a disaster. As 'Assistant to Prop Lady' she was fantastic. I could see how much she loved being involved and handing out the various props to the next set of actors waiting for their moment in the spotlight. No more awkwardness and reluctance - just enthusiasm and efficiency.
She was persuaded to go up on stage for the finale - a heartwarming whole school rendition of a song called We are the Children of the World. For a brief moment she joined in with the singing and the actions and I was given a glimpse of the little star she could have been - but mostly her interest lay in what was going on offstage and behind the curtains.
As we made our way back home I asked her if she had enjoyed herself and she answered with a resounding yes. I suppose that is all that really matters.
A late night and much excitement with a little raw emotion thrown into the mix did result in the over sleeping next morning.
It was a rush to get to school but we made it just before the start of registration. I breathed a sigh of relief. Today of all days, an OFSTED official loitered in the classroom with his clipboard of doom. I gave Addy a quick kiss goodbye and was about to make my hasty retreat when the same look descended over her face as I had seen last night when she stood empty handed on stage with the star waving children of Poland. I willed her to hold it together, to sit calmly on the carpet, to wait for her name to be called and answer with a upbeat and 'ready for the day' - Yes, Mrs Buckley.
She didn't.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Royal Christmas Mail
The last time I received one of these through my letter box was many years ago when a boyfriend from my first term at University sent me a Christmas card containing a small plastic bag filled with his mum's home made chocolate spread.
If his mum had known that he was using the chocolate spread in some sticky naughty games with his girlfriend rather than as a nutritional spreadable on toast to sustain a hungry student, she probably would not have packed him off to Uni with jars full of the stuff. Had my boyfriend known that the chocolate spread package would explode in the card somewhere between his post box and the sorting office, he perhaps would not have attempted to send me a reminder of our little bit of fun in this way!
This latest item delivered by the Royal Mail with their sincere apologies contained no such deviant substances - just a simple red envelope housing one Christmas card with greetings from a very dear friend and his lovely family. It remains something of mystery as to how the condition of it is such that it looks as though it has had bites torn out of it.
It made me smile when I removed the card from its tattered envelope to reveal the picture on the front.
That cupcake did perhaps look good enough to eat!
 |
| Our Sincere Apologies. We are very sorry that this item has reached you in this condition. Royal Mail |
If his mum had known that he was using the chocolate spread in some sticky naughty games with his girlfriend rather than as a nutritional spreadable on toast to sustain a hungry student, she probably would not have packed him off to Uni with jars full of the stuff. Had my boyfriend known that the chocolate spread package would explode in the card somewhere between his post box and the sorting office, he perhaps would not have attempted to send me a reminder of our little bit of fun in this way!
This latest item delivered by the Royal Mail with their sincere apologies contained no such deviant substances - just a simple red envelope housing one Christmas card with greetings from a very dear friend and his lovely family. It remains something of mystery as to how the condition of it is such that it looks as though it has had bites torn out of it.
It made me smile when I removed the card from its tattered envelope to reveal the picture on the front.
That cupcake did perhaps look good enough to eat!
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
A Perfectly Lovely Few Days
One of the best things about having a busy schedule is taking a moment to look back at everything you have achieved and realising that if you can do all that in a few days, the possibilities for the next few years are limitless. I'm having one of those moments right now with my cup of coffee and keyboard and feeling very optimistic for the rapidly approaching new year.
Last Friday was my little Addy's school Winter Fayre. I had volunteered to run a 'Decorate a Cake' stall to keep the children entertained as well as making biscuits to serve with mulled wine as an alternative to the more traditional mince pies on the refreshment stall. I love baking and I particularly love baking on a grand scale, usually for party food or in this case for a fundraiser. I baked four batches of butter biscuits cut in Xmas shapes and then set about the task of embellishing them with icing.
I had just finished decorating Xmas tree biscuits with royal icing (green food colouring producing a disappointingly insipid shade) using an 'outline and flood' technique and topped with a sprinkling of white glitter sugar when the doorbell rang. It was the postman delivering my latest issues of the Cake Decorating part work I subscribe to which included a Xmas Special. It couldn't have been more perfect timing. I used the snowflake cutters providedto emboss discs of ready roll icing to top circular biscuits and did something similar with star shaped ones. Leftover ready roll icing was perfect for transforming snowman shaped biscuits into proper little snowmen. I also had a go at cutting out delicate snowflake shapes using sugar paste. It was fiddly but effective and could well be used again when the time comes to decorate this year's Christmas cake.
I was pleased enough with my biscuits and although transporting them to the school was a bit nerve wracking (a gust of wind blew the cling film right off one tray), the job was done and another box on my to do list could be ticked.
How much money the Winter Fayre raised has not yet been released but I had the feeling that it was not well supported by parents. A lot of effort had been put in to make a successful event but without the people attending to spend their money, it would all be in vain. My 'Decorate a Cake' stall did very little business because there simply wasn't the steady flow of young people I'd hoped for, keen to roll their sleeves up and drizzle icing and sprinkles in imaginative ways. I am not blameless. My own children stayed at home because they were tired by the end of the week and I knew we had an early start the next day to pay a Xmas visit to the grandparents in Brighton.
As I left the Fayre (in a hurry as I still had packing to do), the lovely 'burger van man' gave me a bag full of unsold veggie sausages and burgers to take home. I enjoyed a little snack on my drive home and handed out warm, meaty(ish) goodies to the family on my return. The 'family' numbers were swelled on account of Taylor being home from Uni for the Xmas break. It was a joy to see her looking healthy, happy and confident after completing the milestone of her first term
I always love going to Brighton. It is where my husband grew up so has special meaning for him. It is where my older sister settled and holds many memories for me of her life and death. And it is where my husband's parents live still.
Addy was especially excited about seeing her grandparents and the promise of staying in a hotel.
My mother in law had a terrible health scare recently which resulted in the need for surgery on her heart so it was a wonderful surprise to see her looking fantastically well. Well enough to have gone dancing with her husband and well enough to have made a raspberry trifle for our tea. My mother in law's raspberry trifle is one of my absolutely most favourite things.
The hotel did not disappoint Addy and I thoroughly enjoyed cheering for James Arthur in the X Factor final on the telly from the huge, comfy bed with a pint of beer bought up from the bar.
It would be a shame to go all the way to the south coast and not visit the beach. We wrapped up warm and took the children for a walk along the seafront. It was cold but the sun came out - bracing and glorious. Unfortunately, Addy got a little too adventurous with the breaking waves and as King Canute could have told her, that will never end well. Soggy shoes, socks and trousers removed, she was wrapped in a warm blanket ready for the long journey home.
The icing on the cake of a perfectly lovely few days was watching James Arthur win X factor 2012, back home in front of a blazing fire.
Last Friday was my little Addy's school Winter Fayre. I had volunteered to run a 'Decorate a Cake' stall to keep the children entertained as well as making biscuits to serve with mulled wine as an alternative to the more traditional mince pies on the refreshment stall. I love baking and I particularly love baking on a grand scale, usually for party food or in this case for a fundraiser. I baked four batches of butter biscuits cut in Xmas shapes and then set about the task of embellishing them with icing.
I had just finished decorating Xmas tree biscuits with royal icing (green food colouring producing a disappointingly insipid shade) using an 'outline and flood' technique and topped with a sprinkling of white glitter sugar when the doorbell rang. It was the postman delivering my latest issues of the Cake Decorating part work I subscribe to which included a Xmas Special. It couldn't have been more perfect timing. I used the snowflake cutters providedto emboss discs of ready roll icing to top circular biscuits and did something similar with star shaped ones. Leftover ready roll icing was perfect for transforming snowman shaped biscuits into proper little snowmen. I also had a go at cutting out delicate snowflake shapes using sugar paste. It was fiddly but effective and could well be used again when the time comes to decorate this year's Christmas cake.
I was pleased enough with my biscuits and although transporting them to the school was a bit nerve wracking (a gust of wind blew the cling film right off one tray), the job was done and another box on my to do list could be ticked.
How much money the Winter Fayre raised has not yet been released but I had the feeling that it was not well supported by parents. A lot of effort had been put in to make a successful event but without the people attending to spend their money, it would all be in vain. My 'Decorate a Cake' stall did very little business because there simply wasn't the steady flow of young people I'd hoped for, keen to roll their sleeves up and drizzle icing and sprinkles in imaginative ways. I am not blameless. My own children stayed at home because they were tired by the end of the week and I knew we had an early start the next day to pay a Xmas visit to the grandparents in Brighton.
As I left the Fayre (in a hurry as I still had packing to do), the lovely 'burger van man' gave me a bag full of unsold veggie sausages and burgers to take home. I enjoyed a little snack on my drive home and handed out warm, meaty(ish) goodies to the family on my return. The 'family' numbers were swelled on account of Taylor being home from Uni for the Xmas break. It was a joy to see her looking healthy, happy and confident after completing the milestone of her first term
I always love going to Brighton. It is where my husband grew up so has special meaning for him. It is where my older sister settled and holds many memories for me of her life and death. And it is where my husband's parents live still.
Addy was especially excited about seeing her grandparents and the promise of staying in a hotel.
 |
| A four year old's vision of a "ho-tayal" |
My mother in law had a terrible health scare recently which resulted in the need for surgery on her heart so it was a wonderful surprise to see her looking fantastically well. Well enough to have gone dancing with her husband and well enough to have made a raspberry trifle for our tea. My mother in law's raspberry trifle is one of my absolutely most favourite things.
The hotel did not disappoint Addy and I thoroughly enjoyed cheering for James Arthur in the X Factor final on the telly from the huge, comfy bed with a pint of beer bought up from the bar.
It would be a shame to go all the way to the south coast and not visit the beach. We wrapped up warm and took the children for a walk along the seafront. It was cold but the sun came out - bracing and glorious. Unfortunately, Addy got a little too adventurous with the breaking waves and as King Canute could have told her, that will never end well. Soggy shoes, socks and trousers removed, she was wrapped in a warm blanket ready for the long journey home.
 |
| Borrowing one of Addy's hats and using hubby as a windbreak to keep warm |
 |
| Hadn't realised I'd dressed Dylan as a mini dad! |
 |
| Moments before Addy's soaking |
The icing on the cake of a perfectly lovely few days was watching James Arthur win X factor 2012, back home in front of a blazing fire.
Monday, 10 December 2012
The Geminid Meteor Shower
So Patrick Moore has died.
He visited my school once, back when I was a 'trying to be nonchalant and cool' teenager. I spared him a glance out of the common room window but did not make any more effort than that to see him. I wish I had. A legend of a man.
The reason for the visit was that my school was named after the astronomer William Herschel whose claim to fame (apart from living in Slough where I grew up) was that he discovered Uranus. This discovery, of course, generated much mirth amongst the sniggering pupils. If I remember correctly, a camera crew came too to capture some footage for a Sky at Night documentary about the William Herschel telescope. I don't remember ever watching the programme when it was broadcast or if indeed any of the footage was used in it.
I have always loved looking up at the stars and imagined that I would find it fascinating with the aid of a telescope. I was delighted when my first husband gave me a telescope one Christmas. I thought it was a thing of great beauty. Now I don't know if it wasn't set up right or if I was just completely incompetent but I could never manage to focus on anything in particular. Apart from the moon. There was a special lens for viewing the moon and it was amazing. But there are only so many times you can look at the moon and standing outside with a bulky piece of equipment that needed to be moved about and stored safely lost its appeal quickly. My star gazing reverted to being with the naked eye and my telescope was packed away and left to gather dust.
I still have the telescope and maybe one day I will find the enthusiasm to unpack it. If I wasn't so busy with Christmas related things, that day could well be now as an astronomical event is about to happen. That event is the annual Geminid Meteor Shower.
The Geminids should be at their peak on the evening of 13th December and coinciding with new moon to give a dark sky, it could be a spectacular show (providing there is no cloud cover of course!).
He visited my school once, back when I was a 'trying to be nonchalant and cool' teenager. I spared him a glance out of the common room window but did not make any more effort than that to see him. I wish I had. A legend of a man.
The reason for the visit was that my school was named after the astronomer William Herschel whose claim to fame (apart from living in Slough where I grew up) was that he discovered Uranus. This discovery, of course, generated much mirth amongst the sniggering pupils. If I remember correctly, a camera crew came too to capture some footage for a Sky at Night documentary about the William Herschel telescope. I don't remember ever watching the programme when it was broadcast or if indeed any of the footage was used in it.
I have always loved looking up at the stars and imagined that I would find it fascinating with the aid of a telescope. I was delighted when my first husband gave me a telescope one Christmas. I thought it was a thing of great beauty. Now I don't know if it wasn't set up right or if I was just completely incompetent but I could never manage to focus on anything in particular. Apart from the moon. There was a special lens for viewing the moon and it was amazing. But there are only so many times you can look at the moon and standing outside with a bulky piece of equipment that needed to be moved about and stored safely lost its appeal quickly. My star gazing reverted to being with the naked eye and my telescope was packed away and left to gather dust.
I still have the telescope and maybe one day I will find the enthusiasm to unpack it. If I wasn't so busy with Christmas related things, that day could well be now as an astronomical event is about to happen. That event is the annual Geminid Meteor Shower.
The Geminids should be at their peak on the evening of 13th December and coinciding with new moon to give a dark sky, it could be a spectacular show (providing there is no cloud cover of course!).
Weather permitting, I will definitely be outside wrapped up warm in winter clothes and a duvet, either on a reclining garden chair or a well insulted ground cover on the lawn. For a festive touch I am planning on supplies of warm mince pies and mulled wine. I might even let my mind wander to thoughts of that first Christmas and the star that appeared over Bethlehem to guide the wise men.
Fingers crossed for a clear night!
Sunday, 9 December 2012
My car is not well.
My car is not well.
I first got my diesel Ford Galaxy the year that Gareth Gates and Will Young battled it out to see who would be the victorious Pop Idol in the predecessor to X Factor. I remember this because the lorry that delivered my shiny new car had WILL YOUNG IS GAY written in the dirt on its side.
It was no surprise to me that Will Young was gay. Wasn't it obvious? But it was a surprise that enough people were bothered by this fact for it to make headlines in certain newspapers the day after the final and for at least someone to make the announcement on the side of a lorry in desperate need of a good clean. I digress. Back to my car.
My Galaxy has been good to me. It has provided me with relatively trouble free and comfortable motoring and I was proud to use it as my wedding car after it was given a "pimp my ride" makeover with bows and ribbons and flowers.
However, 11 years and well over 100,000 miles later, the problems of mechanical old age are surfacing.
We have done a lot of driving this weekend. Once the car had been running for a while, accelerating would cause the car to judder in the speed range of 50 - 60 mph. If the road surface was less than smooth or there was any sort of uphill gradient, the juddering would be exaggerated. It was like a washing machine on its spin cycle.
I have to admit that the sensation was quite pleasant. A full body vibro-massage. I especially liked the way the vibrations transmitted through the less toned fleshy parts of my middle aged body. What I didn't like was the thought that the car could shake into pieces at any moment in the manner of vehicles usually reserved for circus clowns.
The car did make it home in one piece and as an unexpected bonus I found that I wasn't suffering with any of the usual aches and pains and stiffness associated with long journeys. Putting all benefits and sentimental attachment aside, it has made me think seriously about the need for a new car.
SANTA?! I have been really good this year!
I first got my diesel Ford Galaxy the year that Gareth Gates and Will Young battled it out to see who would be the victorious Pop Idol in the predecessor to X Factor. I remember this because the lorry that delivered my shiny new car had WILL YOUNG IS GAY written in the dirt on its side.
It was no surprise to me that Will Young was gay. Wasn't it obvious? But it was a surprise that enough people were bothered by this fact for it to make headlines in certain newspapers the day after the final and for at least someone to make the announcement on the side of a lorry in desperate need of a good clean. I digress. Back to my car.
My Galaxy has been good to me. It has provided me with relatively trouble free and comfortable motoring and I was proud to use it as my wedding car after it was given a "pimp my ride" makeover with bows and ribbons and flowers.
However, 11 years and well over 100,000 miles later, the problems of mechanical old age are surfacing.
We have done a lot of driving this weekend. Once the car had been running for a while, accelerating would cause the car to judder in the speed range of 50 - 60 mph. If the road surface was less than smooth or there was any sort of uphill gradient, the juddering would be exaggerated. It was like a washing machine on its spin cycle.
I have to admit that the sensation was quite pleasant. A full body vibro-massage. I especially liked the way the vibrations transmitted through the less toned fleshy parts of my middle aged body. What I didn't like was the thought that the car could shake into pieces at any moment in the manner of vehicles usually reserved for circus clowns.
The car did make it home in one piece and as an unexpected bonus I found that I wasn't suffering with any of the usual aches and pains and stiffness associated with long journeys. Putting all benefits and sentimental attachment aside, it has made me think seriously about the need for a new car.
SANTA?! I have been really good this year!
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