Domesticali

January Mosaic

I've been a long time admirer of the samplers that Sue makes. Whenever she posts a new one, I think to myself 'I should do that'. And this month, I actually did it. And lo,  January came out with more colour than I had expected. But I'm still relieved it's February tomorrow.

The Mummy Breakfast

Mummy breakfast does not refer to the usual weekday offering of a large mug of caffiene and some toast grabbed with one hand while the other performs essential domestic tasks like signing homework diaries or locating misplaced PE kit. No, it is an entirely different beast alltogether which occurs a handful of times each year.

So this morning, I hared home from the school run, mixed up a batch of apple and apricot muffins and fumigated the downstairs loo. And right on cue, they began to appear - a motley assortment of friends (I am allergic to cliques), who have children who may or may not all know one another, but who vaguely overlap at various different schools or activities or who have homes in the same village.

I lay the proper dining table with a cloth, and my favourite glasses and cups and dishes and we sit and enjoy a leisurely breakfast of juice and fruit salad and yoghurt, croissants and muffins and too many pots of tea to count. And someone might be late because their child was doing an assembly, and someone might have to dash off to an appointment, but the time in between, with the fire lit and a bunch of simple daffodils on the table and snippets of news is precious indeed.

Sometimes I wonder why we don't do it more often. But then perhaps it wouldn't feel as special. And afterwards, there remains a wonderful sense of fullness. Not just of tummies, but of life.

In need of something big and orange

Do you subscribe to the view that your body lets you know what you need? Today, mine is asking for vitamin D. Feels like the sun has been absent for an eternity. I love the snow, but the endlessness of the leaden skies has been sapping my spirits this week. And all I feel like doing is eating.

There are some side benefits to this for the rest of the family, who have been getting very good food this week (even if I do say so myself). And with the oven on, the kitchen is a warm and cosy place, and probably has the brightest lights too, which is cheering in itself, when there is precious little of the natural variety.

So there was a batch of Marmalade this week. And then, because I seem to have made more than we will probably get through, a Marmalade cake, to use some of it up again.

It's waiting for a little glaze of icing. And I am waiting for the sunshine to return as patiently as I can and contemplating other orange things in the meantime.

Reggie, our big ginger moggie - he hasn't been out much this week either. We've both got our paws crossed for next week. At least only one of us has to worry about getting too stout to fit through the cat-flap. Though my jeans may also be cause for concern...

Snow frolics

This has been a weekend for revelling in the white stuff. What had been, in the diary, a jumbled expanse of commitments, suddenly transformed into a blank canvas. Such is the magic of snow.

Don't laugh at my movie making skills - I had to get Mark to help me a little bit (filming the live action downhill sections, as well as a teeny bit of technical knowhow). But somehow, in spite of my ineptitude, the finished thing is somehow so much more than the sum of its parts.

And I am seriously contemplating a little Creating Time Capsules course. These days, like the snow, pass so quickly. Somehow it feels important to capture them.

 

 

Supermarket musings

Today, there was an unexpected treat when I picked up the trolley - another person's shopping list still there on the clip. I love those days (they looked to be planning Shepherds Pie for dinner).

But even the thrill of a found list couldn't bring this shopping trip up to the dizzy heights of the one yesterday. It was slightly insane to drive sixty miles to go to the supermarket. But then I did get to spend the day with Monica too. Even if she might disown me after being so insanely excited about grocery shopping. But it was Whole Foods Market in Cheltenham. And it was worth every moment on the road.

I've been dying to go since Sue blogged about her trip. And she was braver than me about taking photos. Actually, I was in too foodie enraptured a state to think of photos. Too busy soaking in the sights and smells and tasting what was on offer and lobbing random items into my trolley. They really were random - hence the proper shopping trip this morning to buy actual food we could eat, not esoteric elements.

You know it's a great shop when you come home feeling excited about ingredients and cooking and eating. And selling a lifestyle with some of the most amazing visual merchandising I have ever seen in a shop is a smart business move I'm sure. In fact, I know if they were closer to home, I would be heavily subsidising their profits by my regular presence.

Yes, there are cheaper ways to provide fuel for your body. But the psychological boost that it gave me? Priceless.

Onward

The best antidote for January blues seems to me to be looking squarely forward. I find myself contemplating the prospect of Spring and knitting socks in an optimistic daffodil shade.

Well begun is half done - Aristotle? Mary Poppins? Someone wise said it anyway.

There have been difficult letters to write this week. One has been swirling round my head all holiday long, but the thoughts needed catching and putting on paper - when it was done I had no idea why I'd procrastinated. It was so liberating to have pinned it down.

So when life threw up the need for a second, vastly different kind of letter, I sat straight down and wrote it. Even though the words would hardly come and I am not sure what comfort it could possibly bring. I suppose I wrote it to make myself feel a little better. Sometimes there is nothing for it but to keep putting one foot in front of the other and see where the journey takes you.

Scented clouds

One child back at school, one to go. The early start was painful, but it did at least give rise to a morning in which things could be accomplished, rather than one filled with ultra leisurely tea, toast and pyjama loafing. Lovely though those things are, there isn't much to show for it, come the end of the day.

And January is always the time for bold intentions - for setting goals, achieving things, discarding the superfluous (inches or clutter) - none of which really sits well with loafing. But it has been so comfortable, this period of nesting, that a transition project seemed called for. A gentle beginning.

Some clouds, filled with lavender. For scented linens, or restful sleep. Not that there should be an issue with nodding off this evening. The 6am start sees to that quite nicely, I find. See, every cloud has a silver lining.

Dismantling

It's not quite twelfth night yet, but our decorations are down and stowed away back in the loft ready for next year. It's a strange time - I simultaneously relish the extra space and airy sensation that removing several trees immediately gives, while missing the all day glow effect of the fairylights and the general feeling of magic and wonder that the whole ensemble provides.

Each year though, there are one or two things that I can't bear to put back in the loft. Last year, it was my styrofoam cup wreath which was so at home hanging over the mirror, that it has never left.

And this year, these pom poms, strung by Johnny during his long ill phase in December and hung up high over his bed.

It felt so wrong to take down those little puffs of happiness, that they are staying put. And I wonder why our house feels more crammed full with each passing year - sigh.