tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17134168076033006812024-02-19T01:28:32.857-08:00the imaginary caféLKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-34439575136094065552011-04-28T07:05:00.000-07:002011-04-28T07:48:47.744-07:00Blueberry Macaroon Things<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq45ryTBTKgR_fUtkfni0NrR3ZVbXv-4BbTj9d2hb5yo0fe7jgiWCJgqptA5vrDpaXsGBkJFDniNc1vz4VygqTQN2FIYr0MqXj52RUWqNQoutrxayZMeKrC9AHFelDKj1uka2rbxpwxd8o/s1600/BlueberryMacaroonTart+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600636041762615666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq45ryTBTKgR_fUtkfni0NrR3ZVbXv-4BbTj9d2hb5yo0fe7jgiWCJgqptA5vrDpaXsGBkJFDniNc1vz4VygqTQN2FIYr0MqXj52RUWqNQoutrxayZMeKrC9AHFelDKj1uka2rbxpwxd8o/s400/BlueberryMacaroonTart+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> I haven't done too much baking recently. I feel like I should probably prioritise sorting out 3 meals a day for me and the now-eating-solids-babe over cake, and that is quite enough work and kitchen mess most days.<br /><br />However, this caught my eye and I happened to have just about the right ingredients and the baby was happily eating dirt off the floor or headbutting chair legs or something, so I seized the opportunity.<br /><br />It's a bit of a Chinese whispers recipe now - originally from <a href="http://www.101cookbooks.com/">101 Cookbooks' </a>Heidi's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1580082777/heidiswanson-20">new book</a>, I saw a reinterpretation of it on <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2011/04/blackberry-and-coconut-macaroon-tart/">Smitten Kitchen</a>, then I've adapted it further to fit the contents of my kitchen.<br /><br />Easy as 1-2-3 - check. Tastes like a kiss in the summer sun - check. Rustically pretty - check. My kind of cake/tart/thing.<br /><br />I actually think blackberries or raspberries - something slightly tarter - would be better than the blueberries I went with, but otherwise I was pretty happy with this<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXE-heI2IC2oNyurlYkXcx6oJUShZICkmfc2kjC8QeQ8KzLaZRwCW4g8keGG7MshtpRqytggCCt9sYmOQwWh1Xfp8CGUJXg_0VDg-gxZq71Mt3v-8ejzC2Q_IG9dBlv5sF0M4zvJDH4-KV/s1600/BlueberryMacaroonTart+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600635499895526658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXE-heI2IC2oNyurlYkXcx6oJUShZICkmfc2kjC8QeQ8KzLaZRwCW4g8keGG7MshtpRqytggCCt9sYmOQwWh1Xfp8CGUJXg_0VDg-gxZq71Mt3v-8ejzC2Q_IG9dBlv5sF0M4zvJDH4-KV/s400/BlueberryMacaroonTart+002.jpg" border="0" /></a> <strong>Blueberry Macaroon Tart (adapted from Heidi Swanson)</strong></p><br /><p>Preheat oven to 180C/350F</p><br /><p>Mix 1 cup wholemeal flour with 1/3 cup sugar, 1 tsp cinnamon and a generous pinch of salt. </p><br /><p>Add 4tbsp (c.4oz) of butter, melted, and mix thoroughly. </p><br /><p>Press mix firmly into base of a greased 7" square pan or equivalent and cook for c20 mins or until slightly golden/starting to brown.</p><br /><p>Let the base cool slightly whilst you prepare the topping</p><br /><p>Mix 2 egg whites with 1 cup desiccated coconut and 1/4 cup sugar</p><br /><p>Scatter a cup of berries (blue/black/raspberries/whatever) over the base then use your fingers to drop the macaroon mixture around them so they are not all completely covered. </p><br /><p>Bake for 25-30 minutes or until the macaroon peaks are browning. </p><br /><p>Scatter with 1/4 cup chopped almonds (or other nuts).</p><br /><p>Cut into bars once cooled a little</p>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-90773578412559347692011-04-15T02:36:00.000-07:002011-04-15T09:41:11.291-07:00Something I saw in the park the other dayI was trying to think up a smarter title for this post, but I am going to use my standard excuse <em>de jour</em> for that; that my brain is in hibernation right now. I don't know what I'm functioning on instead in its absence; some kind of standby generator for when the mains power blows I guess. Or a temp brain from an agency, who is more interested in checking facebook and painting its nails than actually doing the work of keeping up the impression I am a sentient, intelligent human being... <br /><br><br />Right, moving swiftly on from the dodgy mixed metaphors to what I was actually sitting down to write about today... <br /><br>It was just this. I was in the park, feeding baby some satsuma. Some older toddling children were running around on the slides and swings. Sun in the sky, but a bit of a chill. Mothers or carers hovered and chattered. <br /><br>A tall, lean woman, sporting ankle-cropped trousers and battered desert boots, entered the gardens, buggy in tow. She unstrapped a baby similar size to mine, talked a little German to it, took it several metres away and plonked it down on the grass. Then she returned to the buggy, sat in it and tilted her face to the sun, looked quite marvellously relaxed. <br /><br>German baby happily tested out her legs, moving from sitting to a legs-straight all-fours position, pulled at the grass, toddled over to the play area, experimented with standing, popping up like a mini weightlifter from squatting to upright, then back down again. <br /><br>German granny (for so she was; she said her granddaughter was 10 months when we exchanged the customary 'how old is yours' baby small talk) dived in occasionally, when baby was about to crawl under a swinging seesaw, and dispensed affectionate cuddles, but mostly just left her to it and chilled out. <br /><br>Later we were in the library over the road and granny got on with her stuff on the PC for half an hour or so, whilst baby sat first on the mat and then burbling away in her pram facing the baby area - no line of sight between the two. <br /><br>Nothing particularly extraordinary in all that, you think... and I guess you'd be right. But it really struck me, because in the circles that I move, I've rarely if ever seen such laissez-faire, laid back parenting. <br /><br>Oh, I've heard earnest discussions of the importance of letting babies play by themselves (usually supported with reference to some book or guru or website or other), and I've seen childminders chatting whilst their charges tear around the stay and play, but somehow this seemed entirely different. <br /><br>I think it was the complete absence of tension or hurry. In contrast to the hovering, monitoring, multi-tasking, frowning, chiding, chatting, encouraging mothers/carers that I normally see. <br /><br>And it made me think maybe I could be more like that. And then that made me think that how I am now is so heavily determined by what I see around me, whether consciously or subconsciously, though I might like to think I just do what I think is best regardless of what others think or do. That was all.<br><br> * <span style="font-size:78%;">I guess it could be that I move in first-born only circles and there's a bit of </span><a href="http://www.mumsnet.com/Talk/_chat/1191337-What-is-the-worst-PFB-syndrome-youve-ever-witnessed"><span style="font-size:78%;">'pfb syndrome' </span></a><span style="font-size:78%;">going on. How ironic that probably the only child with which you will get the luxury of being a bit more relaxed is the one that you will probably be most neurotic about!</span> <span style="font-size:78%;">** BTW I in no way mean this to be an opinionated/ideological piece, oh children today are so mollycoddled that's the reason civilisation is taking a nosedive, that kind of thing. Purely observational. </span>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-7262625921436852152011-03-18T03:59:00.000-07:002011-03-22T07:23:02.158-07:00Mummy Chic<em>Or, how I look like a scubber* most of the time, and what shall I do about it? </em><br /><div><div><br /><div>So, over at <a href="http://k-teafortwo.blogspot.com/">Tea for Two</a>, K was <a href="http://k-teafortwo.blogspot.com/2011/03/black-silk-skirt.html">lamenting a bad purchase</a>, and thinking about shoes. And <a href="http://dreamingofanaga.blogspot.com/2011/03/simple-pleasures.html">Fay was talking about those little changes</a> (like a hair colour change) that make you feel more like you. All of which got me thinking too.<br /></div><div>Because I wear pretty much the same thing every single day. I have two pairs of identical jeans - one black, one blue; four identical stripy tops in various colours; and a handful of plain jumpers and cardigans. I wear hiking boots because they are comfortable and waterproof. And a fleece if its cold. All of my clothes were chosen on the basis of their functionality and cost. I look like this:<br /></div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586512785151667218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho94Bhf0HfmAs3WU_ziJKEjNsNKyykEzjw1tpVIs3Yh0DTk5mWDwXoECZjuXzrzLaTv9jNmBpEPq6xkr8riYJ7rmvMDF0reo2x_rlnkK5NcPSW9dUp-6EqQqfcx8gO0848r_MHKv7l8cBd/s400/Jeans.jpg" border="0" />(Well, I have a head and feet in real life too).</p><p>This is in fact, so typical for my 'tribe' that it is described in Naomi Stadlen's study of modern (mostly London-based) mothers, <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/What-Mothers-Do-Especially-Nothing/dp/074992490X">'What Mothers Do'</a>, thus: "Mothers are sometimes thought to lose pride in their appearance and to 'let themselves go'. Perhaps some mothers do. The unofficial dress code for mothers today seems to be plain T-shirts and jeans".<br /><br />She goes on to say by the way, "No longer, as mothers, can they assume that air of cool and detached elegance, which is so greatly prized today. Instead they glow with warm and tender expressions", and, "As mothers we have reached sexual fruitfulness. Some mothers seem to feel this, but the majortiy clearly do not. Most mothers apologise for their appearances, as if we should expect to see fully groomed women in immaculate, dust-free homes. ... It's striking how few mothers feel they are beautiful and sexually attractive when they look hot and dishevelled."(pp193-194)<br /></p><p>Optimistic, at best, I think Ms Stadlen. Slightly deluded at worst. Yes, I get that we as mothers - and just as women and human beings - have wonderful bodies that do wonderful things - and that there is beauty in everyone.<br /></p><p>However, when your legs itch from their hair having been cultivated for months, and your greasy hair is scraped back from your shadow-eyed face, and you sit beneath the weight of the perpetual ache of your shoulders, noticing how not one single item of clothing you wear has escaped being smurred with baby slobber or snot or regurgitate, believe me, it is very difficult to feel 'beautiful and sexually attractive', or even 'fit to mingle in general society'. </p><p>It is not enough to rest upon the hope that this motherly glow of which she speaks is somehow emanating from beneath the grubbiness. I need deforesting! cleaning! polishing! shininess and pretties! </p><p>Moreover, I need sleep. But as that is not likely in the near future I would settle instead for a good pair of shoes and a decent haircut. As regards the former, it is getting too warm for hiking boots, yet not warm enough yet to dig out my sandals. I need something inbetweeny.</p><p>To which end, I have just spent the time I could/should have been doing something useful, instead browsing shoes on the interwebs...</p><p> These <a href="http://www.net-a-porter.com/product/97166">Bloch flats</a> are just lovely. I've tried on Bloch shoes before and they are so comfortable I jsut kept walking round and round the shop trying and failing to convince myself that I could justify a £180 spend on such flimsy little things. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586905642360869362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 230px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 345px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeaAHk62X7r-szPsKlHvUFhzPaGeUaPYZCFtNzWQ_xkCgQl5f1WxWBfoWHENZMX4ZUsf1cX22PDAlEYSms2JNyz9QBpmDTwi2q7vwp9DMMExUTVCerUNdxIpir7tYAremHsX8Szr2c9xbw/s400/blochflats.jpg" border="0" /><br /><p>Slightly more practical but still a little bit spangly, I quite like these <a href="http://www.kurtgeiger.com/online-shop/154133-kurt-geiger-liberty">KG sneakers</a>. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586906608082252930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieyyWKs6RUGuIkqPU37uyyahC3YYMPwxc_Ubfbb6HZW5dypNLuzrxaOdPWFLhUSh62PoqV7Bz3n_4qt07aHukogwGj1ffcsDJdsT8PnD15sSAkX5VDXx9hnQRdgSRaDS1cydOFxroq7k3N/s400/kgsneakers.jpg" border="0" /> Or would <a href="http://www.asos.com/Asos/Asos-Dandy-Canvas-Ballet-Shoe/Prod/pgeproduct.aspx?iid=1434507&cid=6459&sh=0&pge=4&pgesize=20&sort=-1&clr=Grey">canvas pumps with pretty bows </a>detract from the plainness of the rest of my garb perhaps?<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586908300029393410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 370px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLNs748JhnpOsO9nlved9yEtCLzo3DyDVabNWjLEwBHVenMIC3xSC_0hNdCP0CKHvqjhW_r8BLLja0hOhak1UD07_PnSXr12afWOzohq1UAMZEwLs4OKYmIavlBPCb2bkjwb97UoA9hKU0/s400/asospumps.jpg" border="0" /><br /></p><br />Must get myself to some real-life shoe shops soonish I think... Any recommendations for good pretty but practical footwear?<br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">*I think I made this word up; it just describes how I feel best. scubby. A bit plain and a bit grubby. </span></div></div></div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-20500755968488248542011-03-08T12:14:00.000-08:002011-03-08T12:31:40.805-08:00Happy Pancake Day!<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6774ZcPgD66l2YaBDFRV-1u2ap6r4CQzCav0frrkmjghFoyyrA0qoVVGhiGwXLtM1Cmiy5EsyW6moH57Mm6pPXn_ZEdNHAjR_RrVTMbIxFT-8ZiOGBmexiOw0gPPV251yQJ-LMkkudcRo/s1600/planvariations+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581805639041462786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6774ZcPgD66l2YaBDFRV-1u2ap6r4CQzCav0frrkmjghFoyyrA0qoVVGhiGwXLtM1Cmiy5EsyW6moH57Mm6pPXn_ZEdNHAjR_RrVTMbIxFT-8ZiOGBmexiOw0gPPV251yQJ-LMkkudcRo/s400/planvariations+011.jpg" border="0" /></a> I took baby to the doctors this morning and we found out she'd dropped off her percentile line. So the health visitor advised me to stuff her full of dairy and fat. Or something like that. </div><div></div><br /><div>Accordingly, I went home via Tescos and picked up some double cream. Which I whipped and mixed with yoghurt and boiled raspberries to create a delicious pink fool. </div><div></div><br /><div>Baby being baby, she was having none of it. Not even having seen my biceps nearly combust whipping with a manual whisk because the electric handheld thingy is bust. Not a fan of the old spoon-feeding. </div><br /><div>However, later I was trying to give her pancakes and slipped a bit of the fool on that, and she lapped it up! Result. Full of cream now!</div><br /><div>Anyway, the pancakes...</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581809087781799314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1eAQa4d692T9Mra2aYhmHNuneXmYfj8t9OV0u-mIj9cUblV2J7dHAEwaUr-y6WBgskU0-_Bf98Gt2eoQ8UFp_B8t_H_mxWhrE1MvQTe25xk5hNDoUmWeKuyPVHPGs9j2ulFY8mzVOgVi-/s400/planvariations+015.jpg" border="0" />I've being feeling a little bit odd about eating eggs recently. I don't know, I guess it's just that all those times I pick up a pack in the supermarket and wonder how free range they really are has added up to a critical mass and now I don't really feel right eating them. So I seem to be cutting down. In aid of which I decided to try out a vegan pancake recipe.<br /><div></div><br /><div>And guess what? You don't need eggs to make a good pancake. Who knew? Yep, these don't have a whole load of flavour, but you want to drench them in lemon and sugar anyway, and the texture is just fine. So, good. </div><div></div><br /><div><strong>Vegan Pancakes</strong></div><br /><div><em>Adapted from </em><a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Vegan-Vengeance-Delicious-Animal-free-Recipes/dp/1904943667"><em>Vegan with a Vengeance by Isa Chandra Moskowitz</em></a></div><br /><div>Mix : 2tbsps sunflower oil; 5tbsps water; 300ml soy milk; a few drops vanilla extract; and a tsp agave nectar</div><br /><div>Add: 5oz plain flour; 2tsp baking powder; 1/2tsp salt; and 1tsp cinnamon</div><br /><div>Whip very briefly together and let rest</div><br /><div>Fry one ladleful at a time in a medium hot pan. Flip etc. </div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-40529569301638838792011-03-06T05:00:00.000-08:002011-03-07T10:06:32.657-08:00Mmmmm vegetables!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSzWb443Ob5474EP-6_g8gfOpvYSpFe91w91GGrKA7oEz1iEA2CGMUqNpbtakD0jCAxzalKhW3iQqdnSkqVras5t0NrFkiVcFo8WaaLWr2ysTqixc5FjIuMGAPO4CFrheSdmQpcou5-oM/s1600/carrotsandrice+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568335136522474994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSzWb443Ob5474EP-6_g8gfOpvYSpFe91w91GGrKA7oEz1iEA2CGMUqNpbtakD0jCAxzalKhW3iQqdnSkqVras5t0NrFkiVcFo8WaaLWr2ysTqixc5FjIuMGAPO4CFrheSdmQpcou5-oM/s400/carrotsandrice+002.jpg" border="0" /></a>I don't want this blog to give the wrong impression - what with making its own <em>granola</em>, knitting(albeit badly) with a newborn, doing all its new years resolutions, and <strong>now</strong> telling you about a brown rice and vegetables and seeds kind of dinner... If it weren't for the general lameness in blogging frequency and the sporadic posts about angst and nothingyness, you might start to think I'm one of those macrobiotic, organic-proselytising, champagne-hippy types who are up at 5 every morning to do a few quick sun salutations before spinning some hemp to make their own sheets and then whipping up wheatgrass and goji berry smoothies, all whilst looking perfectly groomed and balancing the well-behaved babe on a hip.<br /><br />Fear not. I am not even imperfectly groomed - barely even clean most days; we had Sainsburys pizza followed by dark chocolate digestives for dinner last night; and far from sun salutations and smoothies I spend much of my daytime perusing Mumsnet and watching America's Next Top Model (Tyyyyyyy-raaaaaaa!!!!)<br /><br />However this is a very good dinner, I liked it very much, and I would like to share. It might sound like something you'd eat because you were on some strict diet to 'cleanse' yourself of sin and caffeine. But it tastes - I'm not lying - really more-ishly delicious. It looks so unassuming and meek, but it's full of flavour and satisfying in a really good-feeling way.<br /><br />So, you slice a couple of carrots into large chunks and boil until just cooked (c5-10mins). Meanwhile you put 1 small cup brown rice and 2 cups water in a pan, cover, bring to the boil and then turn down to a very low simmer. It should then take c30mins to cook. After about 25 minutes cooking you throw a handful of sliced green veg in. The recipe called for spinach; I went for pak choi and sugarsnap peas. (and have since done a version with purple sprouting broccoli and celery cooked in with the carrot, which was great)<br /><br />Once the green stuff is just wilted and the rice cooked, remove from the heat and - here's where the magic happens - you then stir through a mixture of olive oil, light soy sauce, lemon juice and grated parmesan. About equal amounts oil and lemon juice (maybe a few tbsps each) and about half that amount of soy sauce. A good couple spoonfuls of parmesan. And then - if you like - top with some toasted sunflower seeds.<br /><p>And that's it. Try it, you might like it...</p><em>This is an adaptation of </em><a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/recipes/brown-rice-with-carrots-and-spinach-2171536.html#"><em>Skye Gingell's original, published in the Independent</em></a><em> </em>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-44699891770164823072011-02-15T09:06:00.000-08:002011-02-15T09:06:00.384-08:00Where did it go? (and will it come back)I used to doodle. All the time. I used to write stories and elaborate, carefully-worded, fanciful emails. I used to have fantastical daydreams and nonsensical plans I half believed in.<br /><br />I used to have walls covered with 'inspiration' and spend tube journeys planning my site-specific specialist dance company, or the magazine I would create, or the books I would write.<br /><br />I used to always include 'creative' or 'imaginative' if pushed to complete that annoying exercise of describing oneself in three words.<br /><br />Nowadays 'sensible' springs to mind. 'Pedantic' perhaps. Restrained. Messy. Busy. Somewhat efficient even. But not imaginative. Not creative. Because I neither imagine nor create anymore.<br /><br />I never doodle. I make lists. There are no stories in my mind, just a constant rolling inventory of what to do and when I should do it. My emails are brief to the point of curtness.<br /><br />I sat down at a cafe the other day and 'allowed' myself to doodle. But nothing came. My mind just wanted to list what I need to sort and what I could make for dinner. My university notes were never more than about 10% comprehensible - they always became covered in nonsense and drawings. I used not be able to stop it, and now I can't start it.<br /><br />Oh you could still say I was 'creative' I suppose. I mean, I create dinners out of really peculiar fridge contents sometimes. And I invent nonsense songs on the spot as I potter around with the baby. And I have little craft projects to do (but they are much more about relaxation and an activity for me than 'creativeness').<br /><br />I miss it. I miss that bit of my brain.<br /><br />Is it just being a parent, I wonder? Half my brain eroded by sleep deprivation; the other half crammed full of constant things to do.<br /><br />Or did it start when I left my dead-end job (and my colleagues there - fellow idling amateur writers/designers/dancers/musicians) and fell into accountancy, somewhat accidentally. That intense training does rather warp one's thinking.<br /><br />Either way, I do hope at some point that it will come back.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-81640029865678653142011-02-10T01:02:00.001-08:002011-02-10T01:03:35.999-08:00Spring!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OJw2PXSnkG2TcmoXzbmqVq9k7WcqmpOWsdY-BMJP3TWzr3g9fBCUs6ikmG6RRpqkfEgALl1P75nuVHM0sduUhTm1r_IBJp886-bv36c-NyqS3Wq3-xuL7vmLH0dauxlU2hxBu7_gwqwO/s1600/crocus.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5571983754292233074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1OJw2PXSnkG2TcmoXzbmqVq9k7WcqmpOWsdY-BMJP3TWzr3g9fBCUs6ikmG6RRpqkfEgALl1P75nuVHM0sduUhTm1r_IBJp886-bv36c-NyqS3Wq3-xuL7vmLH0dauxlU2hxBu7_gwqwO/s400/crocus.jpg" border="0" /></a>Crocuses! (crocii???)<br />Sunshine!!<br />Hurrah!!!LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-29866656382856214602011-02-04T08:01:00.000-08:002011-02-04T08:11:56.523-08:00Let goI wanted to post about this (brown rice and carrots - mmm!) and that (my lost creativity) and the other (can't even remember)<br /><br />I wanted to get through the unreads on my google reader and comment on the posts I've been enjoying on the iphone but not been able to comment on<br /><br />The voices in my brain are holding an uninformed debate about childminder vs nursery and this location vs that location vs that location rather incessantly<br /><br />I am - 6 months early - starting to worry about how it'll be to go back to work<br /><br />We are not in our usual pattern today - less sleeping, more crying, more feeding, less getting anything done<br /><br />I didn't load the dishwasher<br /><br />(I did catch up with two nice mummies)<br /><br />I have a lot of emails I ought to write<br /><br />And I meant to make a phone call and I'm not sure I have the energy<br /><br />I feel like a minger with unwashed hair, ill-fitting clothes and irritable eyes<br /><br />I have things to send and friends I haven't contacted in an absolute age<br /><br />I have to <strong>let go</strong> of all that right now. Sit down, have a cup of tea whilst the child is - mercifully - still asleep, work out what the priorities are again when I have refueled and ready to go. Maybe watch a dodgy mid-afternoon quiz on the tv. Maybe even breathe a little.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-23212022283719056032011-01-28T02:02:00.000-08:002011-01-28T02:27:44.708-08:00The Metaphor Scarf and Other Projects<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVDJ2aNWiEg1ZK3ewzfBEV0TzKiwGkuYYCdTQdG4pm03dMHiz9rSvmC3JixyKGehkkkFeVHzyGWvutJXZTkvoe3I6IIIE9gsHSvfaUEfgD_rPRpKeCY5jgPNX2eAz9Pawn9Gf5kdugNSst/s1600/scarf+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567175376458706274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVDJ2aNWiEg1ZK3ewzfBEV0TzKiwGkuYYCdTQdG4pm03dMHiz9rSvmC3JixyKGehkkkFeVHzyGWvutJXZTkvoe3I6IIIE9gsHSvfaUEfgD_rPRpKeCY5jgPNX2eAz9Pawn9Gf5kdugNSst/s400/scarf+001.jpg" border="0" /></a> So, I started knitting this shortly after baby was born. I saw <a href="http://www.purlbee.com/easy-hand-knit-scarf/">this pattern</a> on the Purl Bee and thought it looked pretty achievable. A really nice effect with minimum thought or effort.<br /><div></div><br /><div>I didn't bother buying the recommended yarn - I had a ball left over from something else that I thought would work, so I just got stuck in. And in between changing nappies and waking up all night and rocking a screaming baby and feeling sore, I knitted a row here and a row there. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>And as I did so, I thought to myself how nice it was to do something that I could see growing and that would be finished, in the midst of this new crazy hamster wheel of a parenting life. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It will be a lovely metaphor I thought, a physical enactment of the effort I have been putting in every minute every day with this new life. Something I can hold and use, that shows how all those little stitches make something big and whole. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Hmmm. So I came to the end of the ball of yarn, and realised there was no more, and realised it was really rather short (as in you couldn't wrap it round your neck in any way which would stay on), and also rather stiff and scratchy due to using the wrong yarn!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I stitched the ends up to make a loop - the only way to make it wearable, albeit slightly peculiar. And now, instead of making me think of the hard slog of those early days and how I worked so hard and am achieving things however much it sometimes doesn't feel like it, it just makes me think of how doing knitting projects with (not enough of) the wrong yarn, the wrong needles and no preparation results in something a bit disappointing. Not such a lovely metaphor!</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567181316540796962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiesNEju31xiD7p76GgEqjEp9eqJgS2BpYdcwLVPXxAijVo_1jGKAvCGUUKodbUEIxpdHRNIogHsV9pLTJ7o3z3Y6rzT9rMh2o_0mSGqxYqYB4T3l-M-dJQTa0MZpdCNZJNLAsaIJKMJNym/s400/scarf+002.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div>Having said all that, it obviously didn't teach me its lesson as I am currently embarked on another project with the wrong needles and the wrong yarn. When you have leftover stuff to use up and you want to start something NOW its just too tempting. I'm hoping I can estimate/bodge the adjustments I need to make to make it the right size. We'll see... </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The other thing about that scarf though was that I decided I had to finish that before moving onto any other project. I have a list of projects I want to do - things like clearing out my wardrobe and putting photos in albums as well as things I'd like to make. This approach has been very succesful so far. I'm an excellent planner, a relatively good starter and a terrible finisher of things. Making myself do one thing at a time has been a very good discipline for me. After the scarf I got stuck into filing of important documents and papers, and have just finished that. Finished something! The feeling is quite unusual. (Whether this kind of efficiency continues is another matter... )</div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-8878808903168930292011-01-25T10:09:00.000-08:002011-01-25T10:32:22.628-08:00That's the way to do New Year's Resolutions!They are so tempting. The allure of a shimmering mirage of an upgraded you. The moreish taste of self discipline and pointless achievement. The chance to luxuriate for a little while in the possibility that this time you might change.<br /><br />But I have learned my lesson. I've done resolutions in the past. I've got all enamoured with them, believed in them, and then forgotten them or ignored them hastily and reverted to type.<br /><br />I flirted with them this year. I let the ideas pop up in my head. I thought, 'I'd like to: grow vegetables - finish a knitting project that actually works - send people presents on time - eat hardly any sugar - create delicious veggie dishes and fruit-based puds every night - wear grown up night gear - change the bed every fortnight - have always stylish hair - be nicer to people - give more to charity - network at work - go on date nights - stop watching shit tv - crochet a blanket - keep house plants alive - go to yoga once a week - meditate every day - take brilliant photos - not leave the house looking like a bag lady - sort everything before it becomes a pile - stop having miseries - read more - blog regularly - keep things clean - write real letters to people............................<br /><br />And then I walked away from all that in the comfortable knowledge that it will never happen. And I thought, 'Let's make this achievable!'. And brief.<br /><br />I resolved to go to the dentist.<br /><br />I haven't been since 2001 - keep meaning to but I have a particular talent for not actually getting round to doing things that are quite easy but non-urgent and sound to me like a bit too much effort.<br /><br />And... I went! Slightly freaked out by the young and glamorous lady dentist - I thought they were all old men. But she was lovely and only found one little spot that needed a filling (my first ever). So yay.<br /><br />The silly thing is, I know this resolution thing is quite arbitrary, and well, kind of a cheat, but even so I keep getting this satisfying feeling of achievement. I'm done for the year!<br /><br />If at first you don't succeed, as the saying goes...<br /><br /><br /><br />(....lower your standards, or cheat)LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-35246701682030458482011-01-19T08:57:00.000-08:002011-01-24T10:40:56.260-08:00Granola<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pSDg6nuS1e1jLG510EOF9GWP_t06fth_HuiNYIQG1O8ppyKjbxvK2kFKV-y4olCDatqLl8518A1kB-dSH0QaRGAXmK6DpyaUKD8mCq2qoUEjUf9ZvNjhBi3ilAP29S2OwsVEYuWyctCx/s1600/snow+057.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563944860629840258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pSDg6nuS1e1jLG510EOF9GWP_t06fth_HuiNYIQG1O8ppyKjbxvK2kFKV-y4olCDatqLl8518A1kB-dSH0QaRGAXmK6DpyaUKD8mCq2qoUEjUf9ZvNjhBi3ilAP29S2OwsVEYuWyctCx/s400/snow+057.jpg" border="0" /></a>Cereal is not an uncommon dessert in my household. Shreddies are satisfying after dinner; crunchy nut on top of a little muesli a pleasant pudding, but for the truly luxurious experience, a good granola is the way to go. Oh, and you can eat it for breakfast too if you're that way inclined.<br /><br />The shop bought stuff is expensive and making your own is not only very simple but makes your kitchen smell delicious. And you get to choose exactly what goes in, which is fun. Endless possibilities for combinations.<br /><br />I've experimented with a few recipes recently, and finally found one I really really like, <a href="http://chocolateandzucchini.com/archives/2010/11/basic_granola_formula.php">courtesy of the lovely Clotilde</a> , whose granola formula gives you the basic principles from which you can experiment with the details to suit your taste.<br /><br />So, mine went like this:<br />3 cups of oats, rye flakes and barley flakes<br />1 cup whole almonds<br />2 tbsps sunflower oil<br />6 tablespoons golden syrup<br />1 tsp ground cinnamon<br />1 tsp sea salt<br /><br />The above well mixed until thoroughly combined, then spread onto a couple of greased baking trays and baked at 150C for 30-40 mins turning every 10mins.<br /><br />Then to the cooled mix, added:<br /><br />1/2 cup dried sour cherries<br />1/4 cup coconut flakes<br /><br />Seriously good.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-29978931558746062462011-01-19T08:18:00.000-08:002011-01-19T08:57:41.317-08:00January's almost over!Which is good, because whilst I do try not to wish time away too much, January is almost always a terribly miserable month. February is never much better, although at least it keeps itself to a more reasonable 28 days. I invariably start wishing I could hibernate around this time of year.<br /><div></div><br /><div>January started especially miserably for me with a bout of flu. I'm not normally a panicker when ill, but I have to admit to serial temperature taking and a little bit of the 'what ifs' over swine flu fears. Much easier to get sucked into the panic when there's a baby around is my excuse. It really wasn't all that bad - I managed to go out for a steak and chips lunch on day 2 so I was hardly on the edge of disaster. </div><div></div><br /><div>Anyway, happily all in the past now, and what with that and then a trip back home to see the parents, I suddenly realised it's the 19th already which made me feel quite chipper. </div><br /><div>Some very brief updates: </div><br /><div><strong>Sleep training </strong>- Ah, ha ha ha ha ha ha. 'Training'. Yep. I think I'm on something like day 40 and well let's just say all is not going as planned. Still, I'm actually quite okay with how things are at the moment so just going to be grateful for that and not stress it. </div><br /><div><strong>Reading </strong>- Nighttime wakings have allowed me to work my way through the entire archives of another blog - or two in one really - I've been following Fay's post-baby <a href="http://babyandwool.wordpress.com/">Baby and Wool.</a> for a while but went all the way back to the beginning of the pre-baby <a href="http://dreamingofanaga.blogspot.com/">Dreaming of an Aga</a> . It really is nice to go through a whole blog start to finish and get a better sense of the story of things and it was a joy to go through craft projects, vegetable growing, house moving and baby growing with Fay. I got all inspired to make heirloom quilts and fabulous baby dresses. Then remembered I'm not so good at finishing projects and should probably just stick to the usual targets of keeping myself and babe relatively sane, clean and well-fed. Big believer in keeping things relaxed and achievable.</div><div> </div><div><strong>Cooking </strong>- I made this splendid cake for my blogoversary back in December. (A little late obvs, but the blog didn't seem to mind). Not a recipe to post, as it's just your bog-standard Victoria sponge, but my gift to you is the genius idea of sandwiching it with Nutella, Dulce de Leche and chopped nuts. I'm not really a cream and jam person. This was heavenly, and felt like a cake truly worthy of a celebration. I meant for it to have three layers, but I only have one cake pan so that would have been a bit of a mission. </div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563936731235114066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF1YkrT4lJQ9WzlT4uFDYQyBzwc1NFbbrI45VCUy6zOniBrAIYEI6whcnNrQyU_px4pXuDbBIv1hTKrc4mY_1wW2IBf7xD1hoZgrV-UdsV8p3wBEmDCuQ-ESlpSswHLUbvyV3GQ8oBQf1p/s400/snow+060.jpg" border="0" />Mmmm.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-57705137663893835972010-12-21T10:25:00.000-08:002010-12-21T10:41:49.479-08:00Snow<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCeg67MyU2tSmK3RZalko8UfaWjsOy_DN9VwoDSsKz8EWoN8SYt4h_Ytu4yJx8_T_BavigGy7TPnb20Etu0tlA75a9nm2JJQF2gzXrZKoq6i3GkDCISRR3X9raOYHx0Ii44DbHjg6padb/s1600/snow+036.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553205974618987186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCeg67MyU2tSmK3RZalko8UfaWjsOy_DN9VwoDSsKz8EWoN8SYt4h_Ytu4yJx8_T_BavigGy7TPnb20Etu0tlA75a9nm2JJQF2gzXrZKoq6i3GkDCISRR3X9raOYHx0Ii44DbHjg6padb/s400/snow+036.jpg" border="0" /></a> I would like to be able to blame the snow for my current state of completely-behind-with-everything-ness, but sadly I don't think I can. It didn't stop me from posting cards or reading the mortgage stuff or tidying up or packing. It may stop me from getting to Scotland for Christmas, but that is a different matter.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_PW7bg9eravbTIF6vcFNY6KlSDVmh4NFNxpCdEnlhOMuV6npIdyhyphenhypheniKW2xu-8Eeya_fwjOEjwbKyf1fZrM13UBkVBJZgrbDhP7w8F1bBBOckxmRd40nbIIeZUOmBuYFpZH8DAshzYRTJ/s1600/snow+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553205819660673954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_PW7bg9eravbTIF6vcFNY6KlSDVmh4NFNxpCdEnlhOMuV6npIdyhyphenhypheniKW2xu-8Eeya_fwjOEjwbKyf1fZrM13UBkVBJZgrbDhP7w8F1bBBOckxmRd40nbIIeZUOmBuYFpZH8DAshzYRTJ/s400/snow+010.jpg" border="0" /></a> It does make trips out of the house a bit more adventurous/treacherous though.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTK4emPzMfOjFVOV3DP8vsVIz9dBXethCOVO7O_td971ftJ21xF54NCEvlehuy6VT1gAtf8hh5Ic9COo0dDrrRQc3KsKmzPp1fyWKPb0lP8M97abqWocAWfg3AlnlKEYApH1E5J17ru23w/s1600/snow+035.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553205660213349330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTK4emPzMfOjFVOV3DP8vsVIz9dBXethCOVO7O_td971ftJ21xF54NCEvlehuy6VT1gAtf8hh5Ic9COo0dDrrRQc3KsKmzPp1fyWKPb0lP8M97abqWocAWfg3AlnlKEYApH1E5J17ru23w/s400/snow+035.jpg" border="0" /></a> I still don't get how it makes everything so quiet.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnR619UUutk3fLTDoM6kLmpn2KHazOwIGf6-bfuPDRy02PZlVZmNYUAL91B3PeLo2xBBvPKfdoDISqDV8NJQ20COgE9ST-sHik02DZiVZV2mC3vDs8On0PcwZCH1tZ0VIbUq3ium7XjdlY/s1600/snow+024.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553205513820155810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnR619UUutk3fLTDoM6kLmpn2KHazOwIGf6-bfuPDRy02PZlVZmNYUAL91B3PeLo2xBBvPKfdoDISqDV8NJQ20COgE9ST-sHik02DZiVZV2mC3vDs8On0PcwZCH1tZ0VIbUq3ium7XjdlY/s400/snow+024.jpg" border="0" /></a> There were quite a lot of other things I've been meaning to write about but my brain seems to have misplaced them. Oh well, I don't suppose you're missing much.<br /><br /><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREl8I983X4VzeHzOxlW6GaPFx2ZpbbnOXq-5Fj7qkevM9saV-ADqTVpFNu-hHiWWmMIfUClBaMNUs8_7hi7vBkYf-n6pMYsusM7ich74zXuzZTz0BHJr2LTZ5j4GxICITBekJ_FV9Ozbt/s1600/snow+032.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553205268445714050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiREl8I983X4VzeHzOxlW6GaPFx2ZpbbnOXq-5Fj7qkevM9saV-ADqTVpFNu-hHiWWmMIfUClBaMNUs8_7hi7vBkYf-n6pMYsusM7ich74zXuzZTz0BHJr2LTZ5j4GxICITBekJ_FV9Ozbt/s400/snow+032.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div><br />Do have a marvellous Christmas won't you? I think I'd better get on with the pile of things undone now, and love you and leave you until the new year...LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-63309945899662774352010-12-19T11:14:00.000-08:002010-12-19T11:14:00.872-08:00Late adopterI'm a bit of a luddite at heart. I like things to stay the same; I don't really like the breakable, complicated nature of technology. A bit freaked out that I have no idea really how the internet works, or even this computer, or mobile phones. I like things that are understandable; fixable; take-apart-able. I hate that everything has to be replaced and upgraded all the time; that it is mysterious and ever-evolving so you can't get a grip on it. I hate how dependent on it we all are.<br /><br />So, I'm a little slow in getting on the technological bandwagon sometimes. (Although, obviously writing all this on the interwebs so obviously not <em>that</em> committed to the luddite cause!)<br /><br />Anyway, I had been given a second hand iphone ages ago but it seemed alien and like just another administrative hassle, so I put it in a drawer and there it remained for the best part of a year, until I couldn't hear people anymore on my old phone, and had to admit that it had to be abandoned. (Even that phone I hadn't really liked as the colour screen was so bright - the old green and black one was much less offensive on the eyes when checking the time in the middle of the night...)<br /><br />So I got it all linked up and whatnot, and suddenly I get the appeal of this slippery little bright-screened toy. I check my email in the park on our nap-in-the-pram walks. I read blogs late at night when I'm feeding. I make little notes of things I need to remember, or that seem important at the time. After all my chastisements of B for playing with his phone during dinner or whilst talking to me, suddenly it's me hooked to the little device, not coming to bed, checking it whilst we walk along together. The shame!<br /><br />Another little piece of technological know-how I've made friends with recently is google reader. I must have used it once ages ago because it contained a list of blogs already but I never really got in to it. Now, suddenly I get it. Wonderful! I don't have to use my blog roll to check new posts anymore; it's like having an email inbox filled with lovely and interesting things all the time. And now I can be a more consistent blog reader and commenter (though I don't think I've been able to comment via the iphone yet).<br /><br />So yes, I guess despite my scepticism perhaps we can be friends, technology.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-58995900479071926312010-12-16T08:16:00.000-08:002010-12-17T08:10:22.477-08:00At last!<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-12005824">http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-12005824</a><br /><br />At last - an MP calling for an end to the criminalisation of drugs.<br /><br /><br />I'm not a supporter of legalisation because I think drugs are great and we should all be taking them; I'm a supporter of legalisation because everything I've seen and read on this subject seems to point to it being the most sensible thing to do if we want to limit the damage drugs wreak on people and society. To my mind it is screamingly obvious that prohibition is ridiculous.<br /><br /><strong>Because it doesn't work.</strong><br />Trying to stop the supply of drugs into the country is notoriously ineffective. Anyone in this country can get hold of anything they want to get hold of by asking the right people. Surely it's better to put all that time and money into trying to curb demand, regulating an official supply to improve safety, and trying to ameliorate the effects?<br /><br /><strong>Because it's nonsensical</strong><br /><p>How can you ban a substance because it is potentially harmful but not ban similarly harmful substances? It's a crazy and impossible thing to try and do. </p><p>Witness the constant invention of new 'legal highs'; legal because that particular chemical construction has not yet been logged and documented, not any better than illegal substances. </p><p>Morphine is an effective and invaluable analgesic in a clinical setting; its close cousin Heroin (invented incidentally to try and cure opium addicts!) is seen as an evil and destructive power. It's not the slight chemical difference that causes this - it's the context. </p><p>And what about nicotine and alcohol? - if we have a system based on personal and societal harm we must logically include these, surely. </p><strong>Because it supports criminals</strong><br />You make a substance illegal; all those involved in its trade are criminals. Off the radar, unregulated. The demand remains, the trade flourishes despite our intervention; prohibition gives criminals business. Funds people traffickers and gangsters and terrorists and leaves these substances - that people will seek out and take regardless of the law - under the control of the unscrupulous and profit-motivated criminal gangs.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Because it makes criminals</strong><br />Wouldn't addicts be better treated as patients? For their sakes, for the sakes of those affected by drug-related crime? <br /><br /><br /><strong>Because it is not a useful deterrent<br /></strong>I've heard an argument that if you make drugs legal people will think its fine to take them. Um, well its legal to drink weedkiller and its legal to jump off bridges and its legal to smoke. Does that mean everyone thinks these activities are safe?<br /><br />I'm not saying legalisation would be a wonderful panacea, and of course I recognise that all the different substances that are illegal would need different strategies and that there are complex issues surrounding how and why and where drugs are taken and it would be an impossible task to devise policies that created good outcomes in every case. But I do think legalisation, regulation and information is the way forward, and I really hope that this guy speaking out leads to sensible debate and maybe some changes.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-45071959678353504832010-12-15T06:29:00.000-08:002010-12-15T06:29:00.231-08:00Pleasant surprises of a postal nature<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG95YHkc-Druxzah5PuEjnOnPeuu4C9Ev9qmkO1EjowJuJFLpzCWThCXAf8LjdKBRxUK_Jyxf0x5JjWiwb2KkLPqU3nY7eK1m8KF64kKNSvJDoVdNDGv9ApfMkVHEfYXxKL_3Z6RD0-Nia/s1600/cards.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550839237639715970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG95YHkc-Druxzah5PuEjnOnPeuu4C9Ev9qmkO1EjowJuJFLpzCWThCXAf8LjdKBRxUK_Jyxf0x5JjWiwb2KkLPqU3nY7eK1m8KF64kKNSvJDoVdNDGv9ApfMkVHEfYXxKL_3Z6RD0-Nia/s400/cards.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I picked up an envelope from the doormat the other day and thought. 'ooh, what's this. It doesn't look like a bill or a mailshot?'. Almost immediately I answered myself with the pessimistic reply, 'well don't get your hopes up, mystery envelopes are never exciting; they're always just junk or annoying bureaucracy'.<br /><br />But lo and behold, it was exciting! It was a £25 prize from the Premium Bonds. Woop woop!<br /><br />That very same week I came downstairs to the door and saw a Koala peeking out from the pizza menus and cleaning lady ads. It felt a bit like when you see something from your childhood that you'd forgotten about - like, 'oh yeah, I remember <em>postcards</em>'. It had been so long since I'd received one I almost forgotten they existed.<br /><br />And then, a canary yellow envelope turned up and inside not only a card but a letter - real writing! in ink! on paper! from my dear dear friend. I put it in my handbag and saved it for a quiet moment later in the day - a real treat.<br /><br />10 years ago I wrote letters regularly - to a school friend, a pen pal (remember them?), a particularly wonderful high school teacher who kept in touch - now I very rarely put pen to paper. Much as I enjoy the online world and can be cheered by a facebook message from a friend abroad or a lovely email hello, there is still something different and special about receiving something nice in the post. I hope written communication doesn't become just a curio of the past, my kids astounded that one would communicate without cut and paste and instant delivery. Expensive and wasteful though post may be, it's not only a more personal connector to friends in the present, it's also an easily preservable connector to the past. And it's nice to have that personal touch and solidity in the midst of the whirling rushing onslaught of electronic communication.</div><div></div><div></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;">(picture of lovely cards I bought from Liberty recently - they have dove grey envelopes which are ever so chic and I like the picture of the little crazy girl on the bike so much I think I might frame it and hang it up - cheap art!)</span></em></div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-6175461217116351162010-12-13T10:04:00.000-08:002010-12-13T11:00:42.255-08:00Sleep training and blog-loveSleep training... doesn't that sound lovely? Conjures up images of perfecting the starfish position, getting in some warm bath and hot cocoa preparation and testing for the perfect flannel pyjamas. Preparing for the spooning finals, the afternoon nap contest, the tricky snoozing on a plane competition...<br /><br />Sadly no. I'm talking screaming, shushing, patience-testing such as a saint would fail. The baby, obvs.<br /><br />Our little one, despite being an evening screamer for her first three months, did, rather cleverly we thought, decide to settle into an 8 hour routine from about 8 weeks - she dropped off after a feed or a scream around 10 and woke us at 6. Ideal - one of us got to work on time; the other got to have a leisurely breakfast with baby and boy. We got into bed before we fell apart from tiredness.<br /><br />Sadly, late nights began to pique her curiosity and she started only going down for the night around midnight, after a lot of feeding and screeching and wide awake playfulness.<br /><br />I got into bed a week ago and said, "I can't take any more of this". It was the point at which I knew I needed A Different Tactic. So, time to turn back tail between my legs to the Baby Whisperer, whose book I had thrown against the wall weeks previously because it infuriated me with its calm 'just do this and the baby will do this' ridiculousness. But it had a plan for getting the baby to settle in the cot, and in the absence of any other, it now seemed the time to get serious and try...<br /><br />So, for the last 6 nights we've been picking up and putting down in a darkened room for our evening entertainment. I liked the plan. I didn't feel mean putting her down by herself because I could cuddle and calm as soon as she got upset. And in between I got to lie down and immerse myself in blog land.<br /><br />And it worked. Well for a few nights it did anyway - one night she even went straight to sleep with barely a whimper. Then last night I stuck out 20 minutes of trying to calm my wiggly little noise machine in the dark before I gave in and brought her downstairs to distract her with lights and TV (quiet immediately!). So we'll see what happens as we try to keep it up, BUT...<br /><br />...there is one small problem, in that for the last several nights I've been working my way through the complete archives of a blog I came across the other week, which I was absolutely loving (the wonderful Mwa's <a href="http://mwaonline.blogspot.com/">Lost in Translation</a>). It was like reading a good book, going 'oh yes, I so get that' the whole way through, then finding out your favourite character has come to life at the end. And it was like getting to know a new and fabulously funny and frank friend, chatting with her late each night.<br /><br />But then I read my way right up to the present and there's no archives left. So now I need something new to keep me going whilst we pick up and put down some more tonight and doubtless nights to come. I'll trawl around a bit until something captures my imagination I think, then do another whole-archive read - it's nice getting to properly know a blog(/blogger) rather than just flit in and out.<br /><br />Which brings me to my second post topic - this has been making me think about this blog and what I want from it. I wanted it to be a kind of notepad for me to refer back to - good recipes, ideas I'd had for when I eventually get this completely pipe dream cafe up and running (i.e. 2nd of never), projects I'd finished, pretty things I might want to buy or just look at. That kind of thing.<br /><br />And for some reason I didn't really want it to be about personal stuff, mummy and baby stuff, 'musings'... Not quite sure why. I liked reading those kinds of blogs, I just didn't feel that that was what I wanted to do.<br /><br />But now I think perhaps I do. And besides, I choose what I cook primarily on how easy it'll be to clean up nowadays, and I knit at a rate of about three rows a year so there's not going to be much of interest on the foody/crafty front.<br /><br />So, not promising anything because anytime I decide what this should be, or how often I should post, or whatever, it's pretty much a guarantee that that won't happen, but just saying, perhaps I'll open up a little and share a bit more minutiae and mind-noise here from now on.LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-2776166445294008452010-11-11T11:25:00.000-08:002010-11-12T02:45:32.968-08:00Two simple salads<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigksppIJSQw2FNZk23ASegirs90T7AP-GfuCP5ZR2OX1VrlSt5BoTX3RtKFxeC3ef7K8p5Rgbk2UNEdgFq4AtnecKxYejOQoLUWQvHgLxwXoaHUolPfjPq2X3459iYF_ciwCYttjEeaVL2/s1600/sevendays+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538611095871043794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigksppIJSQw2FNZk23ASegirs90T7AP-GfuCP5ZR2OX1VrlSt5BoTX3RtKFxeC3ef7K8p5Rgbk2UNEdgFq4AtnecKxYejOQoLUWQvHgLxwXoaHUolPfjPq2X3459iYF_ciwCYttjEeaVL2/s400/sevendays+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8EEzEynStMQh4Nep3Mx_N3QvbtRiiNIXL4ZsogGDryz-qYVFE_SeX1kLtQCQQxerBtuSEtGaFZHlohuo3l9_XxbC_qRoHnED8leygD4REn3fLuAxNlDYpe-rqOu7b_7VHlfsdTnidv41/s1600/sevendays+003.jpg"></a><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha8EEzEynStMQh4Nep3Mx_N3QvbtRiiNIXL4ZsogGDryz-qYVFE_SeX1kLtQCQQxerBtuSEtGaFZHlohuo3l9_XxbC_qRoHnED8leygD4REn3fLuAxNlDYpe-rqOu7b_7VHlfsdTnidv41/s1600/sevendays+003.jpg"></a></div><div>Not a terribly appealing photo there, but I just wanted to make a note to self on this little dish. I'm not really a repertoire cook - I have a couple of standard dishes I wheel out again and again but often I just play around with what I have. The experiments are not always super succesful, but every now and then I make something I really like, only to forget it and never make it again. </div><div> </div><div>So, so that I remember. These two simple salads both deserve another outing. </div><div> </div><div>First - romanesco cauliflower with roasted peppers and pine nuts. Roasted the peppers in olive oil in the oven for half an hour or so, then added par-boiled florets of the cauli to crisp it up. Dressed only in the roasting oil, topped with toasted pine nuts. Good. </div><div> </div><div>Second - to cooked wild rice I added a little very finely sliced red onion, and halved segments of tangy clementines, dressed with lemon juice, clementine juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. Surprisingly delicious. </div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-68453900820166327702010-11-01T09:42:00.000-07:002010-11-05T05:36:46.436-07:00Making friendsIt's strange, this new mummy club I now belong to. It reminds me a little of the first days of university, or secondary school. There's this whole new group of people I'm slowly getting to know and I feel like I'm sussing them out, trying to work out which ones I like, which ones like me, which ones will turn into friends.<br /><br /><br />It's a long time since I made any new friends. I've been content at work to have friendly colleagues. I have just a handful of truly close friends, with whom I have rich, deeply treasured friendships, all many years old. I am not a facebook friend collector, and I don't make friends easily - I take a long time to relax into really knowing someone, and find maintaining flimsy acquaintances effortful and tiring.<br /><br /><br /><br />I also really prefer to have one-on-one friends. People who, like me, prefer a simple two-person conversation to the complicated chatter of a large group. I like groups, but I often feel a bit like a spectator in multi-way conversation; or if I enter into it I can find it unsatisfying; cut-off comments all mixing in a big, quickly moving pot. I prefer to take my time and talk and listen and engage; something it's much easier to do with just one or two others.<br /><br /><br /><br />So now, there are all these groups and opportunities to meet mums. And we have ready-made conversations because we are all obsessed with the weight and intake and output and colour and sound and world of our offspring. And we like to compare and contrast and take comfort from others.<br /><br /><br /><br />Frantically we skip from how many poos the little ones produce, to swimming lessons, then post baby blubber and cranio-sacral osteopathy*. We share tales of woe - perineal breakdown, multiple attacks of mastitis, infected stitches, babies who won't eat, or gain weight, or sleep. Dates and times are slung through the air - Mabels Monsters, Rhyme Time, Baby Bounce, Mummy and Me Yoga*. We discuss what to wear to a wedding when you're breastfeeding and how to get baby passports and what pushchairs you can take on aeroplanes. We compare slings and prams and clothes and babygyms.<br /><br /><br /><br />It is wonderful, having this resource of fellow experience. And honestly, all of the mummies I've met are quite lovely. I've seen none of the competitiveness that is parodied in that mum-lit genre of books and columns, and although there is often a barrage of advice or 'well I've read that...' in response to quandaries, people try hard not to be judgmental or too opinionated.<br /><br /><br /><br />But I'm getting a little weary of the hecticness of chatting in big groups and the need to be polite and thinking all the time about whether you could offend someone with your thoughts or opinions.<br /><br /><br /><br />I can't wait until I click with someone; until I reach that point where I know I can call someone up with a stupid question, or issue a solo lunch invitation without it seeming a little weird. I'm sure amongst all these lovely women there must be someone with whom I forge strong bonds, but I don't know yet who it will be (almost all of my good friends I have been sceptical of, dismissive of, intimidated by or downright appalled by on first impressions).<br /><br /><p></p>I guess it will just - like so many things - take time. At least now I am old and wise enough to know to not get disheartened and to just keep pressing on being sociable and enjoying what I have - after all I am very lucky to have these networks so ready-made and easy to access.<br /><br /><br />And of course, maybe none of them will become my friends, maybe several of them will. That's the fun of being at the start of something I guess - we don't know what will be. We just have to wait and see.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">*yes I know, it is North London we're talking about here!</span>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-14091819593997336572010-10-27T04:13:00.000-07:002010-10-27T04:13:00.280-07:00Chocolate Almond Cake<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVlJOXL1ApTPwv7gxAEWFxm0WGatSEE4xrw_HpBS2wjKFnRgkZmRr0ljOjep281_2rUk_sTPbPrEdkcZLgj91maZE09Z169LKJ609YceZxj7WPXvRTyQEphUBtEAG17Z2zOuOz0hvNIp5/s1600/cake+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529713846402289506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimVlJOXL1ApTPwv7gxAEWFxm0WGatSEE4xrw_HpBS2wjKFnRgkZmRr0ljOjep281_2rUk_sTPbPrEdkcZLgj91maZE09Z169LKJ609YceZxj7WPXvRTyQEphUBtEAG17Z2zOuOz0hvNIp5/s400/cake+005.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is luxuriously soft, subtly almond-y and studded with rich dark chocolate chunks. I think it would suit a strong velvety latte, on a sunny but brisk autumn morning, setting the world to rights or reading the paper at a pavement table.<br /><br />1. Butter a 28cm tin and line with greaseproof paper.<br /><br />2. Mix <strong>150g butter</strong> with <strong>1/4tsp salt</strong> until soft. Cream in <strong>100g sugar</strong>, then add <strong>5 egg yolks</strong> and mix well.<br /><br />3. Chop <strong>150g dark chocolate</strong>, and add to the mix, along with <strong>150g ground almonds</strong>.<br /><br />4. Add in <strong>100g flour</strong> and <strong>1 tsp baking powder. </strong><br /><strong></strong><br />5. Beat <strong>5 egg whites</strong> until stiff, then beat in <strong>100g sugar</strong> to produce a shiny mixture.<br /><br />6. Mix egg whites into other mix.<br /><br />7. Bake at 180C for 50 minutes - done when a knife comes out clean.<br /><br />8. Yum<br /><br /><em>(Recipe from 'Chocology', a leafet produced by some Swiss chocolate board or similar - sorry I can't give a proper reference; I found it at my parents' house and don't have to hand!)</em>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-31216330023880030302010-10-25T09:19:00.000-07:002010-10-25T09:30:21.783-07:00AutumnWe walk a lot, baby and I. I've got the zero to ready-to-go thing down to a number of seconds now. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532019502064112210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA5d1wan2-HRsdTOlid2CbAQPy2nNTuM2_DWrYpSUdLs1O9IJ55391_0zL7H6cuaGA0X_j-jE3TX_c89f48cSq-kq_qdIxq_ewEmlnObeUCAYSHqrKNgJFqOr-7CD4nNUcFgZ-80VGYxmF/s400/Parks+013.jpg" border="0" />Sometimes some fresh air and a change of scene is exactly what's needed to change grizzly and potentially explosive to calm and potentially (hopefully!) sleepy.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAh_Rl7CIsjMH4wwAK2l3V9YAex9ytqmr_hw4U0G3mbMBO38m__JXru4fL3XHFX15EPBRW0u8rYrjoimDf9On4HzPEiQiKL2trYGPAWgaXJMRFlXtXy908VlFdAXo7pU_Y51sCX0X8Y6_/s1600/Parks+014.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532020421471457602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhAh_Rl7CIsjMH4wwAK2l3V9YAex9ytqmr_hw4U0G3mbMBO38m__JXru4fL3XHFX15EPBRW0u8rYrjoimDf9On4HzPEiQiKL2trYGPAWgaXJMRFlXtXy908VlFdAXo7pU_Y51sCX0X8Y6_/s400/Parks+014.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div> When the weather's like it is right now - sweetly crisp and floodlit with cold sunshine - then it's a glorious treat to be able to meander round London's fine green spaces.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUv6eLVXWf-jVFhmQ5Cu3N8mE7Rq1LdFBtWdAF3FYis1_w47LsyRnRCMGvnq_ruKHxwlFx__31d7akYGzwMeEq99VQXT4KseA_xYpiXhDMgqC0rW190F1L8kXCBevYAWClHlYNnliSuxu/s1600/Parks+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532019966798453874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUv6eLVXWf-jVFhmQ5Cu3N8mE7Rq1LdFBtWdAF3FYis1_w47LsyRnRCMGvnq_ruKHxwlFx__31d7akYGzwMeEq99VQXT4KseA_xYpiXhDMgqC0rW190F1L8kXCBevYAWClHlYNnliSuxu/s400/Parks+011.jpg" border="0" /></a> Watching others enjoying the seasons.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532020236113354914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitxGZLh5bHwS5iCdjnC0hwfAAoFANANrTWHb60CnzIH7c-ehgMe8HzJLt4jxRkiKrUzSFLlz-eHCg8JHnkwD1LeoZvBAWT81zeaaQXHrK8XSbPxT5XVDC63LxMrIkLG7RF5eIJoxXE4vxT/s400/Parks+012.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div> Looking down on my lovely vast city from a calm, green vantage point.<br /><div> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532019685780864226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPpbZ9RtLyKTN8kdqAx7KXjZdDrJGaBpdsDMicB2SFSk8HnVwTaGjFgh_c-21_XbXl1koDyPfyAXD_7gx1ZQ9SGecL26wcOvbrPog1-Lgg8Vo8HiEtqaMvPyYUJnCpzTGcx9gNLY_Vxv6o/s400/Parks+007.jpg" border="0" />Rugged up in scarves and mittens, enjoying the cold night air.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OlFkt2ZSVw_jTaIpJaw4W2lWHVaiHfnNq8KO2WqG1IytB4HIduQkJyWhqucSQcVO7ZOgdOoJKHHxCkOTK0sb099O3gLU82XCIw-jNGHsGSfmKrvKgYFCCXfZiAb_ak5HaNOUa17YYGff/s1600/Parks+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532019229201251746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3OlFkt2ZSVw_jTaIpJaw4W2lWHVaiHfnNq8KO2WqG1IytB4HIduQkJyWhqucSQcVO7ZOgdOoJKHHxCkOTK0sb099O3gLU82XCIw-jNGHsGSfmKrvKgYFCCXfZiAb_ak5HaNOUa17YYGff/s400/Parks+008.jpg" border="0" /></a> (Hampstead Heath by day, Primrose Hill at night)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-40483190520717206242010-10-22T04:05:00.000-07:002010-10-22T04:05:00.920-07:00The saga of the indoor plants<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntTpae9z_GhBX0DrEFI-SPNJwfJC_MUe61RLJReiDLelnJHfHzmXRIUZeioin9TpCDVPp2KOjJrVdlsv2DoHwwU1ObZi64WpeX06GAZ_mPRI_bLj2843ObrpKUSQ41GVnOUY_S0nvlZlV/s1600/cake+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529711974521263474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgntTpae9z_GhBX0DrEFI-SPNJwfJC_MUe61RLJReiDLelnJHfHzmXRIUZeioin9TpCDVPp2KOjJrVdlsv2DoHwwU1ObZi64WpeX06GAZ_mPRI_bLj2843ObrpKUSQ41GVnOUY_S0nvlZlV/s400/cake+002.jpg" border="0" /></a> I like plants. I buy them; they look lovely. They die. I wait around hoping they'll revive. Eventually I sadly throw them out.<br /><br />B said I shouldn't buy any more until I can keep at least one alive; he's not keen on the dying foliage school of decor. I had to agree.<br /><br />I bought some mint plants feeling hopeful. They sat there for weeks until I managed to clean a pot and buy some compost for them.<br /><br />I watered them (nearly) every day, felt quite proud.<br /><br />Mint plants only suffer one disease - mint rust. Mine got it. According to the internet some 'stressed' plants can also get aphids. Guess what mine have millions of? How did I stress them out, poor loves?!<br /><br />On the to-do list then:<br />1. Get rid of aphid covered rusty mint<br />2. Try rosemary<br /><br />I will get one to stay alive!LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-1514481179652763172010-10-20T03:53:00.000-07:002010-10-20T03:53:00.533-07:00Date, Walnut, Cardamom Cake<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij72nmDvoL5rFmuga2KUxEZJuRLA49HVxBZicp_8KFwU3cfJTmf_fkI1HBjteTjQZLQvmfB1eTaQht5jtG9sqR3DaE0Y-iz7x-2i_bV8ZpcX7oFaBWL6EM6um7ofxAuUBWiu914veYcAhr/s1600/cake+001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529709465970426530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij72nmDvoL5rFmuga2KUxEZJuRLA49HVxBZicp_8KFwU3cfJTmf_fkI1HBjteTjQZLQvmfB1eTaQht5jtG9sqR3DaE0Y-iz7x-2i_bV8ZpcX7oFaBWL6EM6um7ofxAuUBWiu914veYcAhr/s400/cake+001.jpg" border="0" /></a> I may no longer pluck my eyebrows every day, go to the cinema in the evenings or always know what day of the week it is, but one thing I can and do still do is bake. <div> </div><div>This one is soft, sweet and warmly spicy. Would go beautifully with a light black tea - Jasmine perhaps - rugged up inside on a rainy day.</div><div> </div><div><em>Adapted from The Glasgow Cookery Book</em></div><div><em></em> </div><div>1. Chop 150g dates and sprinkle with 1tsp bicarbonate of soda. Cover with 250ml boiling water and leave 30 minutes.</div><div> </div><div>2. Cream 50g butter with 100g soft brown sugar. Add 1 egg, soaked dates, 50g chopped walnuts, and 200g wholemeal flour that has already been mixed with 2 tsp ground cardamom and 1 tsp baking powder. Mix well</div><div> </div><div>3. Put into greased, floured tin and bake for about an hour at 180C</div>LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-29741236156619998622010-10-19T05:50:00.000-07:002010-10-19T05:50:00.188-07:00BrevityI keep starting posts and not finishing them before I need to feed/distract/change etc.<br /><br />I think I need to be more succinct!LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1713416807603300681.post-74921062006135554652010-09-12T10:39:00.000-07:002010-09-13T01:26:31.225-07:00And then...<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTaZ9Hrwdi9X_lJAdwwftel3ZszarWbxdUl7uT1R-NSa0gTK_AUYLi257Zw0CALJV-tIeWRvKR_4qwrXkg7fcMzw8u6qCfH9p2flMV1VIjERF_-FiAjH6RlGDOFCC5qmGco-xI4WsR8uR/s1600/IMG_0047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509774760980436530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTaZ9Hrwdi9X_lJAdwwftel3ZszarWbxdUl7uT1R-NSa0gTK_AUYLi257Zw0CALJV-tIeWRvKR_4qwrXkg7fcMzw8u6qCfH9p2flMV1VIjERF_-FiAjH6RlGDOFCC5qmGco-xI4WsR8uR/s400/IMG_0047.JPG" border="0" /></a> That last post was scheduled. About the time it was posting here I was meeting the little person who'd been growing inside me for the previous nine months.<br /></div><div>So suddenly in a new world of baby. It did feel like stepping through a door and leaving behind the old life; things I used to think and do occur to me as though I dreamt them. Now she's here it's like she's always been here, she was always meant to be here, nothing else could have happened. </div><br /><div>So, in short: </div><br /><div>it's a girl</div><div> </div><div>she weighed 8lb3</div><br /><div>and had a lot of hair</div><div> </div><div>ten fingers ten toes big lungs</div><br /><div>birth was: objectively - quick, straightforward and very good; subjectively - just horribly painful and distressing</div><br /><div>the first few weeks - bleeding, aching, lactating, learning, waking, feeding, marvelling, lots of crying, lots of lovely peaceful moments, everything new and fragile and wonderful, freezer meals, first few forays out, dad at home taking care of me and her and everything</div><br /><div>then - days on our own, honing pram skills, healing up, meeting other babies, learning how to do everything one-handed, learning how to relax and trust it'll be okay, cooking, washing, feeding, changing, trashy tv, gaining weight (her), back in the biggest jeans (me)</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAcp-zbgwLwayl2AsaR2I4X9-IkV7skPHtkCAEQVqTn6xZEut-dPYEEEmacBehXZHlCPc8ssqZvCPBCDIAp9mJ8WSycLwnJbYiZnK9GCL90PfoeUJZIaulBQbc8a4bpQn40Ve8IhCmbpAQ/s1600/eyes.jpg"></a>now - smiles! 8 hour sleeps! finally feeling like emerging from immersion in this real now baby world and blogging a little again...</div><br /><div></div>(PS Although I love reading about other blogger's babies, I feel a little weird about putting my baby out there on the internet for some reason, hence the foot picture. I don't intend to turn this into a baby blog; hopefully as I get back into cooking and crafting and cafés and thinking about things other than baby, I'll have enough else to write about!)LKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06674083959972205716noreply@blogger.com3