Domesticali

Magazines

Sunday afternoon in a boarding school is a miserable time for a child, and in recognition of this, it was the time when weekly magazines were doled out. Every child could choose their own subscription,  and there was much collusion to ensure each dorm had as broad a range of reading material as possible - The Beano, Bunty, Twinkle, Jackie, Whizzer and Chips - we devoured them in the hour-long silent Sunday afternoon 'rest'.

Magazines were almost a currency and were carefully collected in each wooden bedside locker and re-read until the pages fell apart. And I am sure that my own hoarding habits stem from this. Somehow, reading a magazine once and then letting it go seems beyond me, until my side of the bed is a teetering mountain of paper-based ode to my latest interest.

See what I mean? Blueprint has been out of circulation since early 2008, and still, I cannot part with my copies. And am I brave enough to show you a small portion of the 'toss' pile?

The recycling guys are going to be getting a serious workout this week.

When I began blogging, I tried to cut down. Surely, the content I was getting from the web would be enough. For a while, I had no subscriptions and just indulged myself with the occasional single issue of something that caught my eye. But then the evil lure of the Tesco clubcard voucher offers got me subscribing again and now things are as bad as ever.

And destined to get worse. There are two new magazine launches planned for September - Making and a UK version of Martha Stewart Living (which will save me a trip into the city to pick up a US version). Sight unseen, I have already given in to the temptation of one subscription, and no doubt, the other will lure me in too. Unless the content proves to be as shoddy as another recent magazine who shall remain nameless turned out to be - a pox on that pre-release subscription decision - it wasn't renewed.

What do you buy? And how on earth do you go about not accumulating towering piles of back-copies? Clearly, I am in need of some advice.

 

White

It is somewhat of a cliche to spend a Bank Holiday weekend on DIY, but then 3 days uninterrupted by childcare needs are an opportunity not to be squandered.

Our playroom is now a pristine and gleaming white space. When I replace all the boys belongings tomorrow, it will revert to its usual self. But with fewer crayon marks and blu tack stains on the walls. There is comfort in the prospect of familiarity.

The downstairs bathroom is another case entirely. It has taken three coats  to cover up the former deep green  incarnation. I never loved the green, but was tethered to it, knowing it was a choice which made sense, fitted in with the tiles I had. But going with a practical decision somehow never made my heart sing.  The white is a clean slate, a blank page.

Knowing how long it took to get back to zero makes me doubly nervous about the metallic silver that today has in store. But we will paint on, regardless of my fears. Because that is the plan. And sometimes taking a risk can be very liberating.

Grey

Who ordered all this rain? Yesterday it did not stop - proper rain all day long. And today it's pretty drizzly too. And my thoughts are turning firmly towards Autumn.

See, I was keeping the faith with summer, hoping for a glimpse of the sun and thinking there was one last fling to be had. The boys are visiting my in-laws this week, which left us adults as free agents. Apart from one of us needing to go to work, that is. But work involved a little business trip to Brussels - hooray, I thought, I'll go too, and promptly invited myself along. But this is a serious trip, it seems. And frivolous little me? Well, it seems I was surplus to requirements. Humph. No jaunt.

But I will get my own back. With heavy duty DIY duties for him this weekend. And I may have undertaken the teeniest of shopping trips with the smallest of splurges. At TOAST. On this.

Grey, to match the rain. But I've a smile on my face.

Monday show and tell

Jumping on the Domestic Novice's bandwagon and indulging in a little show and tell today.

There's plenty of both, because Monica and I made it to the Festival of Quilts at the NEC yesterday. Which meant much eye candy, even if I was too lazy to record any of it. I've learned from bitter experience that the lighting is SO bad in those huge exhibition halls, that I'd rather just soak in the visual treats than try to photograph them.

But it doesn't stop me from showing you the goodies which came home with me.

These were impulse purchases, though I do have ideas in mind for the wire. Which is a good thing as I got carried away and bought quite a lot.

In fact, string-like substances made up the majority of my haul. This is becoming a slight obsession.

The wool is ear-marked for some felted bowls, which is quite a co-incidence, as I came across the first felted bowl I ever made at the show. I had dropped by unannounced to the Cotton Patch stand, hoping to say hi to Lisa and snag myself a copy of her new book (more on which, another time).  There, holding her business cards on the desk, was a little felted bowl I had sent her two years ago. It sounds silly, but I was ridiculously touched. Somehow in this wide world, there are little connections which bind us together as a community. And sometimes, as Lisa put it, we even get the chance to hug someone we've read.

I felt the same way chatting to Janet  and seeing her beautiful work, a small sample of which looks down on me from the shelves in my office. There's something about blogs which sticks us together, leading me on (in true show-and-tell linking style) to the washi tape, bought from the Selvedge stand.

So, that's the end of my show and tell. Any questions?

***that was a lot more fun than supervising my offspring's show and tell selections. Explaining why their teacher will probably not want them to bring in a gigantic Lego construction, or one of the cats, or their Granny...***

Getting away from it all

We're just back from a week in Sark. Only it feels like we've been away far longer. I think that's probably down to the nature of the place - its a tiny island, with only 600 or so permanent inhabitants, whose ranks are swelled in the summer by people like my sister-in-law's family, who spend part of their time on the island, kicking back in an atmosphere far removed from everyday life.

 Some of that atmosphere is no doubt generated by the lack of cars on the island. Running errands and exploring by bike is far more fun, and removing the fear of traffic, gives the children a much higher level of freedom.

Though, to be fair, what they wanted to do most was just to hang out with their cousins. I didn't grow up with extended family, and it's always a bit of a treat watching my boys do so.

The garden of the house is truly spectacular. Outdoor rooms, with their own atmospheres, lush growth and imaginative planting. This is the herb garden.

And there were the most amazing plant combinations, which I always think is the hardest trick to pull off in any garden.

Not the kind of week you can pop into a travel agent and pick out of a brochure. Thank you Tess - unforgettable.

Now we are back, and I am full of energy and conscious that these are the last few weeks of summer holiday remaining. There are shoe buying trips to squeeze in, play dates with chums and perhaps one last little  break  away from home yet to come. It's turning out to be a very good summer indeed.

New things

Whisper, because I know that summer drawing to an end is a sore point for many of us, but are you feeling a hint of Autumn in the air? Something to do with the imperceptibly darker mornings and evenings, or the plums, or some of my blog-chums in the USA heading back to school.

Part of me rails pointlessly against it, and the other welcomes it with open arms. Not that I'm a Summer-hater, just that anything new always seems exciting to me and that includes the advent of each and every new season.

So I have two new (to me) things to share with you, the first being Plum Crisp. Because I have no power to resist a punnet of juicy oozy purple plums from the farm shop. But also no self restraint, which involves snacking on too many at a time. So part of the punnet needed to be cooked. I turned to Nigel Slater (my guru in all things pudding) and in The Kitchen Diaries, there were two plum contenders - a cake and a crisp.

The crisp won. Though Gina made the cake this weekend, I note. It's almost a plum crumble, but the crumbly bit is made with white breadcrumbs and melted butter.

It's good and  it uses up stale white bread, which is an added bonus. I have a guilt complex  about throwing away bits of the old loaf when we start a new one. Mr Slater's recipe for it is here.

The other new thing on my horizon, concerns Google Reader. I love and am frustrated by my reader in equal measure. It's unread posts mock me when I am busy, making me feel guilty. But there is no way I could keep up with the blogs I like to read without one. But lo, the holy grail. You can get a 'next' button for Google Reader, which takes you to the actual post of the next unread entry in your list.

How much easier to comment, and far nicer to read the posts in their home context. I am a fan. And there's a tutorial here which explains how to do it way way better than I can. You've got to love a new bit of gadgetry now and then.

Right this minute

* Waiting for Mark to arrive back from Scout camp - we've got a bet going on how often he's changed his clothes this week. The consensus is not many.

* Wondering if my impulse yarn purchase is sufficient to make a scarf, or whether I should stick with a pair of Toasty mitts.

* Thinking about paint colours for the downstairs loo - it's been green for a couple of years, but it never really sat well with me. I'm thinking of going silver. The full on metallic kind. Too much?

* Wishing I had more leftovers on the fridge so I didn't have to go to the supermarket. Knowing that a trip is inevitable.

In limbo. The feeling of many of my teenage Sundays. Waiting for something else to begin. Watching the drizzle outside. Stuck.

When jellies go bad

A pressed glass jelly mould - how excited was I? I've been waiting to get my hands on one of these for a little while, for many reasons. Not least, the capacity of my offspring to consume jelly and a slight obsession with the feats of Bompass and Parr.

Hubby made the first one - it was not a success. It tasted fine, but refused to unmould. I doubted his reading of the packet and thought he had put too much water in the mix. So I did one. I even consulted the google oracle for advice on freeing my creation (which ranged from greasing the mould lightly, to wetting it before pouring the jelly in and dunking in hot water baths). I should have heard alarm bells ringing when I read the fateful words 'glass moulds can be a little tricky'.

Slice of jellied slug, anyone?

"...If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same..."

No wonder glass jelly moulds are not that uncommon - nobody actually wants them, because they are such a swine to use. But they are pretty. So it can stay.

Unlike other items, which will be tucked away for the next car boot sale - thanks so much for your advice, by the way. It was a surprisingly fun morning, in spite of the early start. Even after sharing my profits with the offspring (who provided the majority of my inventory in outgrown toys, clothes and equipment) I have a nice pile of spending money. Easy to see how going along becomes addictive - I'm mentally pricing all the under-used items in the house! Maybe next year.