Domesticali

Patience

Try though I might, I am not always good at enjoying the journey. Impatience to get to my destination always seems to get the better of me. And throughout my childhood, Advent was torture. The slow and stately progress of doors on my calendar, taunting me. I was always so eager to get to the 25th and then hugely disappointed on Boxing Day, at the thought of things being over for another whole year.

So this year, a book caught my eye and I knew it was going to be part of my Advent. There's a chapter a day to read and ponder on.

Do Nothing: Christmas is Coming. Slow down, stress less, make Christmas more meaningful. Sounds good to me. I'll let you know how it works out. 

If I can just stop myself from reading ahead to the following days' entries...

Does December have you running for the exit?

Recently, Mark (with a little help from Johnny) wrote a poem for his school Christmas Fete programme. It didn't make the editorial cut, but it made me laugh, so in the interests of recording it for posterity, here it is.

You can ride a snowboard
You can decorate a tree
You can build a snowman
You can celebrate Christmas

You feel like eating turkey
You feel exited (sic) for the whole of December
You feel your presents
You feel happy for Christ's birth

You remember the angel visiting Mary
You remember the journey on the donkey
You remember 'No room at the Inn'
You remember Jesus was a baby

I must admit to feeling exit-ed in December sometimes too.  Here's hoping yours goes smoothly.

Wicked thoughts

Do you ever buy something for someone else and then long to keep it all to yourself?

Some flowers, for my friend, who didn't have the best of days. But at least I have a photo eh? One of the few from this week. Alice was lamenting her lack of photos of late. Me too, me too. Somewhere between work and grey days, they seem to be hard to capture.

I thought the 'week in my shoes' idea over at The Philosophy of Lists might kick me into snapping action. But there has only been one photo. A very representative one, I hasten to add, because  my feet have looked like this all week. With slightly varying degrees of mud on the boots.

I am very loyal to my footwear and tend to wear a pair until it falls apart. 
 
So my trusty red boots will no doubt be accompanying me to Bath on Sunday, when the hubby and I escape for our 2 days of pretending we don't have children each year. I am looking forward to Fishworks and apple strudel and being a grown-up very much indeed.

Its beginning to look a lot like *mas

There comes a turning point in every year when the balance tips from 'it's far too early to be thinking about that' to full on pre-Christmas planning mode. And I think yesterday took me from one side of the divide to another.

I was lucky enough to have, as a present, a trip to a Sarah Raven workshop (complete with babysitting thrown in - how great is that? Thank you parents!).

So clutching my copy of her latest book, off I went with my sister-in-law and some of her chums, through the winding lanes of Kent to the conservatory of a beautiful old house. I had to restrain myself from taking pictures, because that probably would have been a bit rude. And I didn't want to risk being ejected.

Sarah Raven began the talk  with "Let's face it, none of us are likely to be receiving a life changing Christmas present this year". There was much slightly guilty laughter. From people who I suspect, still harbour a childhood fantasy or two about the perfection of what might be lurking under the wrapping paper.

But I do buy into the whole fantasy Christmas thing. I love the fact that the house looks magical and the food is indulgent and we have time to enjoy the things in a way that day to day life doesn't afford us. And as Sarah weaved her magic with amaryllis and birch twigs, ilex berries and fairy lights I felt the twinkly feeling creeping up on me.

And what she gave to me, was so much more than the 'how to's of bulb forcing or tree decorating or flower arranging. But the reassurance that it is okay to celebrate the fantasy of Christmas. The belief that for this brief period, everything can be different from usual. And wonderful.

And I am very grateful for my present, which needs no dusting and will last a long, long time - such is the gift of  Christmas spirit. 

Six things

Turkey Feathers tagged me a little while back with a Kreative Blogger thingy - Six things I love and six nominees.

If it's fine to cannabalise it a little (creative, surely?), here are six things I loved about yesterday.

1. The pleasure of a train journey all alone.
2. The way that meeting bloggers in real life is never as scary as meeting other people.
3. Walking about in November with no coat (and still being too hot) - London is always at least 5 degrees hotter than here.
4. Sharing in other people's passions. I know nothing about beads or beading, but I loved the treasure trove that was this shop.
5. How small babies really are (and how perfectly sweet and patient they can be).
6. Taking off my boots as I walked through the door back home.

I'm supposed to tag six folks, so how about Dottiecookie, Stashbasket, Silverpebble, Moogsmum, LucyLocket and Vicious Chicken - thank you for a great day. You lucky non-bloggers amongst our throng today, consider yourselves saved (though it was of course lovely to meet you too).

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Origami wreath tutorial

A little paper ornament - simple to make, perfect for popping inside a Christmas Card. Want to have a go? I promised a tutorial, so here's what to do.

You'll need to begin with a rectangle of paper 4cm wide by 8 cm long.  Choose paper with a bit of body - really lightweight stuff won't hold the folds as well or appear 3 dimensional when finished. I'm using some nice old sheet music.

Fold your rectangle in half lengthwise ( keep the prettier side out if your paper is only patterned on one side) to give you a folded strip 8cm by 2cm.

Fold in half crosswise so your piece is now 4cm by 2cm (like the one on the left). You then need to fold down the corners at each end of the strip.

Hold your folded strip with the open edges to the top. Grab both layers of the top right hand side and fold them at 45 degrees to meet the bottom edge. Then do the same with the top left hand side.

You will be left with shapes like this. Each wreath takes 8 of them to complete.

Hold the first piece by the points. If you look carefully at the top edge, you'll see that there are two little pockets formed between the layers of paper. If you imagine they are numbered 1 2 3 and 4, you need to slide one folded point of the next piece, between layers 1 and 2 and the other between layers 3 and 4.

I wish I could just show you, it'd be a lot easier! But try it, it's simpler than I am making it sound.

Push the second piece down into the first until the tips touch the bottom of the pocket.

Then go on with the third piece in exactly the same way.

Continue round. The eighth and final piece gets the tips of the first piece tucked into its pocket to complete the circle.

Fiddle with them to adjust so the wreath looks an even shape.

I added a hanging loop by threading a bit of embroidery cotton through one of the tips using a needle.

You could go to town with fancy Christmas papers, upcycled glossy magazines, text from an old book - the origami wreath world is your oyster.  And if you have a go, do leave a link in the comments - I'd love to see them.

 

Fit for angels

Tonight I wafted in from work, wearing high heels (and thus necessitating a taxi to my front door). Letting myself into my fairy light bedecked kitchen, I proceeded to whip up a little Caramel Croissant pudding.

Well, sort of. Allow me a little fantasy with my dessert. Recipe here. And of course my oven is as clean as hers.

 

Confined

Another day home with a sick child - my Florence Nightingale impersonation is getting a little stale. But I did at least get the chance to run away from the House of Lurgy on Sunday to go to Handm@de.

Now this was the kind of craft fair I've been lusting after. Great venue, fab sellers, practically on my doorstep. I got to finally meet Alice of Raspberry in the flesh, and take home one of her bags:

Hooray for craft fairs that sell raw materials too - found this incredibly silky yarn made from banana fibre at the Cafe Knit stand:

This little badge from Snappy Sausage wouldn't let me leave it behind either:

One of Monda's trees came home with me too, but I took a blurry photo, so you'll have to look at hers instead.

It was one of those events which got the creative juices flowing. And that can only be a good thing, as I'm getting to work dreaming up a little something for the Third Annual Holiday Ornament Swap hosted by cake & pie and freshlyblended. I think you may still have a moment or two left to sign up.

I think these may be light enough to post easily. And if small folks would hurry up and get healthy again, I may even be able to show you how to make one.

Now the sofa-ridden one is summoning me. It seems CBeebies alone is not enough...

Kitchen poetry :: the real thing

When I followed the recipe for West Country Apple Dappy, (which I highly recommend you try, perhaps with some cinnamon too), I misread the title. Consequently, throughout the cooking and eating of it, a little refrain was repeating in my head.

Appley Dapply, a little
brown mouse,
Goes to the cupboard in
somebody's house.

In somebody's cupboard
There's everything nice,
Cake, cheese, jam, biscuits,
-All charming for mice!

Appley Dapply has little
sharp eyes,
And Appley Dapply is
so fond of pies!

(Beatrix Potter,  1917)

And I can't think of a better refrain to end my week of kitchen poetry.
It's been such fun. Hope you find much joy in your kitchens this weekend.

Kitchen poetry :: visitors

I always wanted one of those kitchens, with an ever present pot of tea on the scrubbed pine table. A happy place, where friends would drop by and stay a while. Share some food or stories or laughter.
Reality may have slightly different furniture to that which I'd imagined. But it's not bad at all. And some of the visitors even wash their own dishes.

Kitchen poetry :: sunshine

Sunshine of the artificial variety here today. Because the real thing seems to be in short supply.

Kitchen poetry :: crumbs

A humble thing, the breadcrumb. But I was stopped in my tracks this morning by how delicious they smelled when I opened up the processor.

When we eat the meatloaf tonight, nobody but me will even know that there are breadcrumbs in it. My secret subversive pleasure. Like wearing clashing orange socks under my boots. Yours?

Kitchen Poetry :: preparation

The end product is seldom realized without a good deal of behind the scenes work. This fact has taken me a long long time to grasp. Effortless glamour is an oxymoron.

So it is only fitting that I kick off my week of kitchen poetry with the preparation stage.

Want to join in? Details over at Simplesparrow.