Domesticali

Sporting watershed

Mark has been doing sports camp this week, and tonight was the watershed - the end of the cricket season.

Ask me why I am relieved? Well, it will lighten the whites laundry load considerably.

No more frenzied attack with the Vanish required for the grass stains on the knees of his white trousers. Hooray!

Of course, Rugby season will swiftly be upon us, bringing with it laundry issues of its own. I have particularly strong feelings towards the coach who makes them roll in the mud at the end of the session on the grounds that if they aren't filthy, they haven't been tackling hard enough. Clearly, he is not responsible for laundry duties in a boy dominated household.

But there are a few precious weeks of respite to look forward to, when it's football all the way. Football, I like. Dirt is largely confined to the skin of the knees. No special laundering required.

And the boys, who were given a pair of football boots each to try,  by the lovely folk at Sports Direct, can't wait either.

Because if, for me, sports are all about the laundry implications, for them they are definitely about the kit. If you want to feel popular, show them a website full of boots and tell them to choose whatever they like. I was Mummy of the Year for a brief moment there. Before they got distracted by discussions of the merits of blades versus studs and how bling it was appropriate to be with one's boots before you would attract ridicule from your team mates.

I'd never really considered buying boots on line before, but I'd do it again. At least while they were debating which pair to choose, I could go into the kitchen and have a cup of tea. Because if ease of kit laundering is criteria one, access to good spectator refreshments must come a close second in the parental sports preference league table.

 Wonder if their delight in their new footwear extends to actually cleaning their boots after training?

 

Free plums and a dollop of art

The hedgerows behind our house are teeming with little wild plums at the moment.

They seem early this year. But made for a good crumble. Pretty much my only contribution in the kitchen this weekend, as I've been volunteering at Art in Action.

Beautiful, beautiful setting.

Some old favouries amongst the artists - Sarah Morpeth.

Roanna Wells (first encountered at the Knitting and Stitching Show last year).

 And the joy of watching people create.

But I'm tired out and in need of a nice cup of tea and perhaps, if I'm very lucky, there might be a bowlful of leftover crumble  in the fridge.

All's right in the world

It has taken a lot of ferreting in cookware shops to unearth the perfectly dimensioned ice cream scoop.

But now my whoopie pie halves match.

Sometimes, the small triumphs are the most pleasing.

 

Trying new things

In spite of not being the sort of person who tends to spend much time in beauty salons, there's been something I've been dying to do ever since I heard about it. 

You know what that is, don't you? One of those fishy pedicure tanks. Full of starving Garra rufa, just waiting to feast on my tootsies.

How was it? A bit tickly - it felt like something vibrating against your foot and you could definitely feel when the larger ones slurped on. Luckily, I am not squeamish at all about having my feet touched. But I am very glad to have gone to a nice new nail place (called Pinkies - no website, or I would give them a shout out, because the owner, Kelli, was absolutely lovely) whose tanks were spotlessly clean. Some of the mobile versions I've seen popping up in shopping centers have been absolutely minging - I can quite understand why they have been banned in parts of the US.

And afterwards? Well, my feet felt nice and soft, but they were very soon back to their usual selves. Honestly, the endless foot filing and lotion slathering maintenance required to wear my Birkenstocks without shame has me almost looking forward to the return of sock season.

Green and Gorgeous

Summer is the season where you truly do reap the fruits of your labour. In Mark's case, radishes from his section of allotment. His scout group have a plot, which they have subdivided and have earnestly planted and watered. I though they would get bored with it quickly, but it seems they have more staying power than I gave them credit for. And their radishes were wonderful.

Of course, I am the only member of the family who really likes radishes, which probably doesn't make them the finest choice of crop. But is fine by me. And they are photogenic. As is the new season's garlic.

Though this didn't come from the allotment - it's being grown on a slightly larger scale.

Recently, I stumbled across the Green and Gorgeous blog. They are flower (and vegetable!) growers, based on an organic farm, not far from me and I took the opportunity to visit this weekend, when they were open for the NGS. What a magical place. So magical that I have booked myself ono one of their courses. And am planing on making a return visit with my decent camera.

In September, I will be learning all about planting a cutting garden. And hoping those scouts will make room for a few flowers on their allotment. 

Something in the air

For many reasons this weekend. Giffords Circus - our visit to which always marks a magical interlude in everyday life. This year we were transported to Russia.

To a show based on War and Peace. The term 'circus' somehow fails to capture the gloriously theatrical nature of Giffords.

We've been twice before, and I am now convinced that there is a little magic dust which falls from the roof of the big top and puts you under a spell for a couple of hours.

See what I mean - you can see it in their faces.

The second bit of weekend magic was a visit from the Fairy Hobmother. You don't believe in fairies? Well you should. This one grants kitchen-related wishes. I kid you not. He sent me a new frying pan, all because I wished for one over at Aoife's blog.

Seriously, close your eyes and make a wish - now type it into the comment box. Because the Fairy Hobmother (actually, it's a bloke called David from Appliances Online, but the fantasy is so much more fun) might be listening.

 I love the mental image of him flying through the ether in a tutu with a shiny new fridge strapped to his back.