Domesticali

A little completed knitting project - little, being the operative word. A Pebble vest (pattern from The Thrifty Knitter) for a soon to be newborn. I'm sure my boys were never this tiny.  It took only a single ball of yarn.

And even for me, the slowest knitter in the universe, it was a quick job. In fact, the biggest headache came in finding a model to photograph it on. The bear feels this is not a flattering look for his puku. But he's the best we had.

I am hoping the uber-stylish mother of the intended recipient, will find the vest chic and understated, in a retro, wholesome, White Company sort of way. The wool is a cashmere, merino and silk blend, so at least I know it feels sublime. It's the first time I have ever made a knitted item as a gift for someone outside my immediate family and I am feeling a little nervous and self-conscious about handing it over.

Perhaps I should have waited and just baked something instead. The biscotti, from Dragonfly's recipe would have been guaranteed to hit the spot.  But, on the other hand, it might be best to eat them all myself. Even if my puku is starting to resemble the bear's.

Splish splash

The time has come for a larger paddling pool.

Because the boys aren't going to be getting any smaller.

Part timer

Not sure quite how my part time job metamorphosed into working 8 days out of 10, but that does at least explain my absence from these parts of late and my current level of shatteredness. The lead up to summer holidays seems almost as frantic as Advent - perhaps it's a cunning plan.  If we are all really stressed and over-extended now, we will appreciate the change of pace of the school holidays and be blissed out at the thought of a quiet day or two at home. Wonder if the same will be true for the offspring?

I had really been looking forward to the Children's Food Festival, both as a punter and because Mostly Books were doing book signings with all the celebrity chefs. This meant a large amount of book ordering, book unpacking, book re-packing, book counting, panicking about books that weren't in the right place and humping of boxes full of books. A lot. But it did also mean that I got to decorate a 'Princess Baking' themed table for some Annabel Karmel stock.

It's a well known fact that I am always up for a bit of 'pink and sparkly', given that my house abounds with testosterone, so I had fun with pink tablecloths, decorated with raggy ribbon flowers (this one loosely based on my beautiful peonies - now long dead)

And a farmyard full of piggy cupcakes

To go with a dozen eggs worth of meringues and a batch of tiara, gown and high heeled iced biscuits.

I have to confess, a third of the meringues didn't see active display (and it wasn't just that the helpers were scoffing them). I thought we'd go for a soft pastel meringue palette - pink (fine), pistachio green (fine, if a little lurid), lilac (hmmm). What was an appealing lavender shade mixture, somehow transformed itself into dingy underwear grey coloured during the course of baking. Not a good food look.

And I am sad to say, I didn't take my camera on Saturday, so there are no pictures. But there are a few celebrity signers in evidence on the shop blog. And I did manage to have it with me on Sunday, when I braved the whole thing again, with my own offspring. They had a ball making ice cream sundaes and doing plenty of sampling in the Chocolate Tent.
 
Getting back to the farm, pricking out seedlings and climbing on tractors, watching sheepdogs and making and tasting butter.

But in a bizarre turn of events, the most popular bit of fun was the Dyson airblade tent. Where you could wash your hands and dry them! In a tent in a field. What will they think of next?

Comments

Comments are a lovely thing. A little e-mail in box full of good cheer. But sometimes, I get a comment that is totally unjustified. And I don't mean a nasty one. On the contrary, it's usually someone paying me a compliment that I really really don't deserve. About having a tidy house, or beautifully behaved offspring, or managing to 'do it all'. And I laugh, and sigh a bit, and wish I had truly earned those accolades.

So before you pass judgement on my Amaryllis. I feel I must come clean.

It was all a big mistake. See, I bought the bulb last year, planning to force it for Christmas (like normal people do).  But in my frantic disorganized manner, I forgot to do it. And then 'lost' the bulb in the garage (because it's like a black hole out there). Then I found the bulb, but was too riddled with guilt to do anything about it because it was too late. Then I panicked that I had wasted money, so I stuck it in a pot about 4 weeks ago.

And look how it has rewarded me. Sometimes we get so much better than we deserve.

Morning-time!

Today, I had to wake the boys up for school. This is a fairly rare event - usually they are up and pottering about by the time we need to have breakfast and get the day underway. Mark, I managed to rouse by opening the door of the airing cupboard. It's very creaky. Which gets me past the mental barrier that objects to ever waking a sleeping child. After years and years of starting the day at 5am with someone who didn't understand the art of sleeping any later, the idea of voluntarily rousing him is horrific.

When I woke Johnny, who has always been keener on sleep than his brother, he grumbled 'It can't be morning-time. I've only been asleep for 5 minutes'. Know just how you feel, son. Perhaps it's down to the soporific powers of the new duvet cover I finally got round to sewing.

The perfect use for the flat sheet that came with the fitted sheet and pillowcase I brought back from New York. Bedlinen is so much more inspired (not to mention cheap) on the other side of the pond. Some plain red sheeting and popper tape from Masons (a crafter's paradise right on my doorstep) and a couple of hours of sewing straight seams.

Shame it's taken me the best part of a year to get round to it. I am rather inspired now, though. Especially if it earns me a lie in. Must remember to put it to use on a morning when we don't have to get up.

Saturday in the City

Mary made me do it. She posted about visiting the Bodyspacemotionthings exhibition at Tate Modern. And when I saw the fun, it seemed the perfect treat excursion for Johnny and I.

So we jumped on the train, nice and early. Which meant we had St Pauls Cathedral Courtyard to ourselves.

And like the billy goats gruff, we trip-trapped over the Millennium Bridge.

And arrived at Tate Modern.

And played.

It's always such a treat to spend time with just one of your offspring.  But don't feel too sorry for the other half of the family. They went off to Mclaren Mercedes and met Lewis Hamilton. No kidding. It's been quite a weekend!

Roast chicken

Sometimes your friends can really shock you. My neighbour casually informed me recently that she'd never roasted a chicken before. If she wants one, she buys it ready cooked from the supermarket. And for some reason, it made me want to cry. Because the scent of a bird roasting in the oven is one of the smells of home to me.

Mind you, I think I shocked her by revealing that my children have clean pyjamas every night. I never really thought that was wierd, but everyone present assured me that it is. Hey ho.

So, to even things up a bit, I made roast chicken last night and put the boys in dirty pyjamas.

Roast dinner, midweek? How decadent! But the nice Abel and Cole folks sent me some organic meat to try. And if you are going to test drive a chicken, it has to be roasted really. Mine always gets a squeeze of lemon juice, half the lemon in the cavity and thyme butter under the skin of the breast. Salt, pepper, oven and voila!

Nothing is going to persuade me that ready-cooked from the supermarket comes anywhere close. That was a very tasty bird.

Though I am prepared to  be swayed on the clean pyjama thing. Maybe two nights. Maybe.  If you want to reveal a shocking something, now would be the time. Just so I don't feel like an odd bod.

Neckwear

Scarf? Necklace? Not sure which category it falls in, but I think my rotary cutter is due some exercise with as many seamless t-shirts as I can lay my hands on.

Because that's all this is. And even with an ancient white (grey) t-shirt salvaged from the rag bag, I am in love with the idea. I had bookmarked the tutorial, but it was seeing Sooz' version that got me rooting. And 5 minutes later, it was done.

Suddenly, I have an irresistible urge to purge the boys' wardrobes....  they must have out-grown some t-shirts recently.

Dusk

One of my favourite parts of the day. Especially at this time of year, with the bats  swooping across the garden catching their insects.

My feet are dirty. Another busy Monday.