Domesticali

Half term

A Bank Holiday weekend seems to me to be the perfect way to get into the groove of half-term. Enjoying the small pleasures of being at home, like a posy from the garden.

A spot of baking

To be enjoyed with the first local strawberries of the season.

Which, when I look at it here, all seems very tranquil and genteel. Snort. Believe me,  not all the family enjoy their holiday time in the same way. 

Both boys have new acquisitions to keep them amused. Some look fierce.

Don't judge me - when you take a child into a toyshop and tell him he can choose anything (within budget) his heart desires, you have to follow through. And besides, there is much unexpected pleasure to be found in shooting one's offspring.

In fact, I've been playing with the big 'un's toy too.

The choice of drums as an instrument for this child to learn has proved to be more perfect than even I'd hoped. He adores them. And he's teaching me too, which is an unexpected pleasure (even if he is a little bit patronising). And who knew drumming releases endorphins?

Much to reflect on

Some telephone calls are almost impossible to make. Like the one which breaks the news of the death of a woman in her prime.

A mum with two boys, the same ages as mine. Who stood with the rest of us, on rugby touch-lines and sniffled through nativity plays. Who baked cakes and manned stalls at school fetes. Who was one of the most capable and optimistic people I have ever encountered and whose family was her pride and joy.  Whose death came out of the blue and has left so many people stunned.

As I put my own children to bed tonight, I thought of hers. And of her husband. And I cannot imagine how today and tomorrow and the next day will be for them.

We go on, because life goes on. But tonight, Claire, I raised a silent glass to you.

Anticipation

Today might just have been the first day of Summer. And I, for one, am more than ready.

Yellow patent leather. Thank you Clarks outlet place and footwear finding Gods.

We're anticipating a very good weekend (the hubs is headed home)! Hope yours is fun-filled too.

Relocation

Outside our house is a crab apple tree - somewhat mis-shapen, which I confess is down to my child who loves to climb, and a tree not yet large enough to be conquered without the odd branch sacrifice. But every autumn, it is smothered with crab apples which the fat pigeons devour. And this spring, the blossom bodes well for a bumper harvest.

Do you see that dark shape, sheltering in it's branches? This weekend, a swarm of bees, in search of a new hive rested there a briefly. The next day they were gone.

I'm searching for a metaphor for life and failing this morning, so let's stick to shallow.

Bees! Amazing, but a little bit creepy.

Hubby came back from India on Saturday - hooray. On the rather less bright side, he flies back again tomorrow. Unless of course, the ash cloud works in my favour...

Safe harbour

The last sane port of call in my week today - a trip to Baileys with Monica. What a fab place.

So much in the way of covetable homeware. Though for some reason, I seemed to confine my purchases to the purely practical.

Perhaps it was a sense of premonition. Because I came home to a phone message. From hubby. To say he isn't coming home from India on Wednesday after all. Which means I'll be extending my practical skills to fitting the new toilet seat and mending the puncture on Johnny's bike. Wish me luck!

Springtime stitchery

The Bank Holiday weekend seemed the perfect time for a little sewing - weather wet enough to keep me indoors, but spring-like enough to make me think my wardrobe was ready for seasonal additions.

I've had this Anna Maria Horner Garden Party fabric for an age. But I knew from when I first got my mitts on it, that it was destined to become a skirt.

The pattern is my 'go to' A line one - Amy Butler's Barcelona Skirts. It fits me well, sews up really fast and works great with quilting weight cotton. But really, it's all about the print isn't it?

Pictures of dinner

The radio has been on a lot this weekend. Partly,  in order to distract myself as I scrubbed the kitchen. Which is what I was doing when a very appropriate piece of programming was aired. Radio 4 was talking about food photography - you can hear it here for the next 7 days.

One of my incentives in cleaning the kitchen is the possibility that I may want to take some photographs in there. Probably of food. Or someone eating it.

But it does seem a little bizarre, when you really examine it -  taking pictures of your dinner. Why do we do it?

For me, the pictures of food are one way of documenting the passage of  life. A way to celebrate the million little things we do for our families. One of the perks of a job which comes without paycheque or accolades, but is  fulfilling, if we only take a moment to enjoy our achievements from time to time.

When I look through my archives, my foodie pictures are rather biassed towards baking. Possibly, because I am too greedy and impatient to eat the hot food before it goes cold, to take the time to photograph it.

But I am pleased that I do take the time to record the odd foodie moment. Just to see that sometimes do I produce something tangible with my days. Even if compiling the mosaic just really makes me want a cupcake right this minute.