Something I saw in the park the other day

I was trying to think up a smarter title for this post, but I am going to use my standard excuse de jour 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...


Right, moving swiftly on from the dodgy mixed metaphors to what I was actually sitting down to write about today...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

* I guess it could be that I move in first-born only circles and there's a bit of 'pfb syndrome' 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! ** 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.

Where 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.

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.

I used to always include 'creative' or 'imaginative' if pushed to complete that annoying exercise of describing oneself in three words.

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.

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.

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.

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').

I miss it. I miss that bit of my brain.

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.

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.

Either way, I do hope at some point that it will come back.

That'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.

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.

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............................

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.

I resolved to go to the dentist.

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.

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.

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!

If at first you don't succeed, as the saying goes...



(....lower your standards, or cheat)

Late adopter

I'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.

So, I'm a little slow in getting on the technological bandwagon sometimes. (Although, obviously writing all this on the interwebs so obviously not that committed to the luddite cause!)

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...)

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!

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).

So yes, I guess despite my scepticism perhaps we can be friends, technology.

At last!

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-12005824

At last - an MP calling for an end to the criminalisation of drugs.


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.

Because it doesn't work.
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?

Because it's nonsensical

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.

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.

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.

And what about nicotine and alcohol? - if we have a system based on personal and societal harm we must logically include these, surely.

Because it supports criminals
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.


Because it makes criminals
Wouldn't addicts be better treated as patients? For their sakes, for the sakes of those affected by drug-related crime?


Because it is not a useful deterrent
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?

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.

Making friends

It'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.


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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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.



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).

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.


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.

*yes I know, it is North London we're talking about here!

The saga of the indoor plants

I like plants. I buy them; they look lovely. They die. I wait around hoping they'll revive. Eventually I sadly throw them out.

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.

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.

I watered them (nearly) every day, felt quite proud.

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?!

On the to-do list then:
1. Get rid of aphid covered rusty mint
2. Try rosemary

I will get one to stay alive!

Pain, discipline and backflips...

Just watched an incredible documentary that was shown on BBC4 last week. It follows children and teachers at the Shanghai Circus School through training and building up to a national competition.


Unfortunately you can't watch it again on the BBC4 site for some reason, although you can get an idea of it on this trailer, and possibly will be shown again, as it seems to have been repeated a few times over the past few years. If it is, do watch it.

Anyhow, found myself dwelling on a few thoughts as I watched.

1. You start to feel a bit of a wuss for thinking about how childbirth might be a bit traumatic on your body when you're watching an eight-year old hanging by her arms from bars and raising her legs to her nose over and over again as a teacher chides her for crying with pain and exertion. Jesus. We grow up with so little pain in general; it's easy to forget how exceptional this is in the world.

2. I (used to?) absolutely love acrobatics. Keep backflipping or balancing on one hand and I will keep gasping with glee. I don't really know what it is but well-performed acrobatics often incite a kind of childish delight in me. However, watching 12 year old Cai Yong's unquestionably beautiful performance, I couldn't see any beauty in it, or feel any excitement, because I'd seen a bit of how hard he trained to get there, and it suddenly felt very peculiar to do such things with our bodies.

And often I've thought how I should have found something to dedicate myself to and get really good at. How I would have liked to have really trained my body up at something. I started realising watching this what that really might have entailed in terms of sacrifice and sheer repetition and started feeling almost grateful that I'm naturally lazy and butterfly like in my interests, skitting here and there and never wedding to one completely.

3. These kids are constantly admonished and shouted at. For gaining 2 kilos whilst back home, for not being able to do a handstand properly, for crying, for not doing a perfect enough move. They don't answer back when scolded. It's an entirely different system. And at first it's just complete shock and sadness. You want to take them out for ice-cream and tell them they don't have to practice every day or be the best trapeze artist, they can just do their best. And then the parents or guardians are there shouting 'do you want to be a beggar? if you don't work hard you'll be a beggar. there's no other option' and it puts it in a whole other light. Again, a perspective on my own culture. It seems so obvious that parents want children to be happy, but suddenly I saw what a luxury it is to be able to want that.

4. Oh, and a little part of me still thinking how awesome it would be to be able to do flying trapeze. They do courses at The Circus Space. Maybe one day...

Anyway, good TV.

Recommended reading

I finished this recently, it having superbly passed the Tube Test (i.e. does it grip my attention strongly enough to encourage me to get it out each hot, stinky tube journey to and from work).

Based on his newspaper columns exposing and explaining examples of 'bad' science and bad reporting of science, it's both entertaining and informative in a really useful way.

Like most people, I undoubtably don't question what I read enough. And it's probably only when someone's challenging an assertion I blithely make that I stop to think where I heard it and whether I can trust that source.

The book tackles quite obvious targets, such as homeopathy and Gillian McKeith, but instead of just providing counter arguments, it really tries to provide the readers with the tools to assess what they are reading about anything science-related for themselves. Now, I'm not sure I'm really going to start chasing up academic articles, checking out reviews on the Cochrane Collaboration site, or reading deeply into statistical methods of studies, but I do feel like I am reading things with a more healthily sceptical mind, and spotting potential mistakes much easier.

Heartily recommend it if you're interested in thinking a bit more about the health and science stories you read.

"Holidays"

Yesterday was my last day in the office. So I'm now on what B likes to refer to as my 'holidays'...

I had been counting down the days for the last month or so. Work was manic right up to the end, with normal deadline pressures compounded with various 'people-problems', so I couldn't wait to be shot of it. Which is a little bit of a shame, to be leaving with a bad taste in the mouth as it were, but now only a number of hours on I feel quite a long way away from all that, which is nice.

And also a little weird. I was so looking forward to leaving work I wasn't expecting to feel any difficulty adjusting to being at home, but as I left the office yesterday it was like I only just realised that that meant I wouldn't be going to work for quite a while. And it felt bizarre.

Still, I have plans for how I'll fill my days so I'm sure I'll settle in just fine pretty shortly; there's heaps of admin, household, little nitty gritty things I'd like to get sorted, and I'm going to make sure I make the most of the last days I'll have to act like a lady of leisure with as many lazy lunches and meet-ups as possible. And possibly I'll have time to blog a little more!

I would like to...

1. Make my own sourdough starter and bread
2. Do more crochet
3. Start composting
4. Get some nice houseplants (and keep them alive!!!) - succulents I think
5. Do yoga teacher training (one day!)
6. Get better at making *good* clothes purchases

I'm copying Wife in the City's neat little list of things she would like to do, because I liked it.

These are my preoccupations currently. What are yours???

oh weekend!

oh weekend! the first breath of your air as I leave the office behind, so sweet and full of promise.

the long, sumptuous hours of yours I can relax into. the luxury of laying head on hands and squinting up at budding branches from sun-warmed grass.

the pottering, the sorting, playing around, getting bits done, smelling the fresh baked bread as it sits and cools on the side.

the gloriousness of the ordinary moments - walking down the road to get an ice cream after dinner; being on a bus but not commuting; wandering the heath and seeing all the others at leisure with dogs and kites and prams and picnics; stopping for tea and talk; relaxing with a magazine; snuggling up to watch the snooker.

oh, i love you, weekend, you beautiful thing.

Free seeds!

I've been a bit swamped at work recently, so no free time to play with the blog. Lining up exciting posts on almost-perfect pastry, more rudimentary sewing, misshapen crockery and there would be a cardamom brioche one too if it hadn't turned out like a lump of lead...

In the meantime, just wanted to point you in the direction of this offer from the BBC:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/gardening/digin/apply_for_seeds/

Put down your name and address and they'll send you mixed salad, courgette, french bean, basil and carrot seeds with a booklet on how to grow them. For free!!!

We have outside space for the first time in years in our new flat, and I am eager to get some soil and seedlings up on the terrace, so perfect easy way for me to get back into growing. I can't wait...

29 gifts - week 1 report

A little while ago, I mentioned I was thinking of taking on the 29gifts project. The idea being - very simply - to give something every day for 29 days.

So, a week's gone past and I thought I'd update on how it's going. I've been making notes/scribbles on paper (above) which I'll transcribe below...

Day 1: I give positive comments to all the bloggers of blogs I enjoyed today. At first it feels like a cheat, especially as I am putting my link on hoping they might visit me. But when I read them back I feel a little warmer and hope the recipients do too.

Day 2: I took cakes to work but Andy bought some in too so I took mine home again... I sent a birthday message to an old friend instead.

Day 3: I have had emails from birthday friend and a blog I commented on - it's coming back to me already! BUT, I fail to give anything today :-(

Day 4: A packet of coffee for a work friend who has shared her cafetiere with me recently.

Day 5: My attention and patience is my "gift" today. Which makes for a nice dinner to end the week. Coffee-friend thanks me and there's new sweet comments on my blog - I am definitely feeling the ripples from my small actions.

Day 6: I take some bits and pieces to the charity shop. Does that count? I feel like I miss an opportunity when I chat to a lovely woman in pregnancy yoga who is due to give birth in two days time and fail to wish her good luck at the end of the class.

Day 7: Dinner cooked for sister and brother in law. I offer a DVD I've watched and don't want anymore but sister's already watched it so dinner will just have to count for today!

So, my observations at the end of week 1:

Firstly, it occurred to me that a lot of the 'giving' I was doing was plain old-fashioned politeness and it shocked me what a lack of politeness I ordinarily had. It's not 'scatterbrained' to miss birthdays, as I often do, it's rude. And it's only polite to thank kind sharing with a gift, and to thank bloggers for the enjoyment and inspiration they provide. One of the best 'gifts' I received all week was when I accidentally bumped into a woman walking down the escalator on the tube, and she turned and smiled and said 'don't worry!'. And, honestly, just that small gesture, made me smile and relax and feel more amenable all evening. And that's just politeness. It's not just me that is lacking in that - 99% of tube travellers act outright rude to each other. But that is no excuse for me to do so too.

Secondly, it was clear through the whole week that the benefit was mostly mine. Whether it was the delight of receiving my own comments through my increased commenting, or enjoying a meal with my boyfriend more through making an effort to be patient and listening, or feeling relieved at de-cluttering the shelf of the stuff that went to the charity shop. I can't be sure whether the gifts' recipients benefited but I know I definitely did.

So, I'll update in another week and see what else comes out of this experiment. One thing is for certain; this should not just be a 29-day blip in my life. Giving, in the form that it's taking so far, is not like a cherry atop a perfectly good cake - pretty and delicious but essentially just an optional extra - it's like the proper butter and eggs and other ingredients that you need to make the cake. Without it it's a hydrogenated vegetable oil and e-numbers cheap and nasty cake - kind of looks the same but it doesn't have any goodness, any delightfulness. The cake will hold up but it will make your mouth feel nasty and always slightly underwhelmed. The proper butter cake will fill you with a little touch of happiness.

I always know it's time to bow out when my metaphors are getting this dodgy...

Monday

Image: Claire Hartigan, Valentine Bears, via Elphicks

So, how was your weekend? I hope it was a good one.

Mine?:

Sunshine! - We had one day of glorious sunshine on Saturday. It was back to grey and rain by Sunday but so nice to be reminded that the sky can be blue.

Baking, smitten kitchen style - I don't know how I've never looked at smitten kitchen before - I've seen it linked to on enough blogs. Anyhow, I was thinking about making homemade pizza on Friday, and found a pizza dough recipe on sk, and then saw these little lovelies, which just about made my heart jump with glee - I'm not a big cupcake fan but they looked stylish, sumptuous and intriguing. My version were not nearly as pretty, but still very very chocolatey good. The pizza was glorious too.

More bread - using the recipe I posted last week, but this time with toasted mixed seeds. I'd really like to get into a weekly bread habit if I can. Last week's batch lasted perfectly just up to the weekend.

Columbia Road Market in the rain - Haven't been for years, but it's always nice to wander around the flower stalls and eclectic little East London shops. Unfortunately the weather was beastly, so we spent most of our time trying to dry out and warm up, but I was really glad to come across Elphicks, a lovely art shop, which I have now discovered has an equally lovely blog. I've used one of their cards as the image at the top of this post - does that not make you smile?

Thinking about giving - Wife in the City's got me thinking about a project I read about a little while back - the idea is to give something every day for 29 days; anything from a cake to an old piece of furniture to a smile to a compliment to some time. I really think this is something worth doing and will endeavour to start today. Updates to follow.

But now, it is Monday, and about time I did some work I think...

Apocalypse Angst

Have you seen that film 'The Road' yet? Based on the Cormac McCarthy novel, it follows a man and his son as they journey through the bleakest possible imagining of a future earth. It's relentlessly grey and desperately despairing. My boyfriend thought it a great film, I just couldn't cope with the grimness; 'why would anyone want to live like that?' I thought, and the whole way through I was tensely willing for the relief of death for the two main characters.

Anyway, there's a scene in it where they find some food in a bunker and they can finally feast. They're eating tinned prunes by lamplight and it must be glorious after such deprivation that they have had. But they know it's going to run out and there'll be nothing again.

I was eating tuna and salad last night and for some reason I was suddenly struck by the feeling that that tuna was like the man and the boy's tinned prunes. That it came from a cupboard which would soon be bare, and whilst I sat there happily eating the stocks would be falling and falling and soon there would be none, with whatever horrors come with that.

It hasn't helped that I've been reading Straw Dogs by John Gray, which is a really interesting and thought-provoking book, but also very bleak. It argues fiercely against any ideas of progress, of the human race bettering itself, finding a way to live within its means, because, it says, the species is not a 'thing', it is just the name for all us individuals en masse. And if you look at individual humans they are not made to be like that, to work out the way to a better future for everyone and to follow it.

It likened us to an infection that the earth has. It pointed out that population growth can be a survival strategy (e.g. for Kurds and Palestinians). Claimed that we were animals and nothing more.

And I think because I've brought about the future birth of another human being, all this was weighing on me more heavily than normal. 'What kind of world am I letting you in for?', I thought, to that little thing inside me, happily ignorant in its amniotic bath.

And then I listened to programmes on how children see awful things on the internet, and watch TV in beds so much they get diseases from sleep deprivation. And how young children use mobile phones, and the crashing newness of the world this one will know as How Things Are shocked me too. I wanted to move to the country and pretend it was the 19th century. Whittle reeds or something; cut off the outside world. And wait for the apocalypse.

I am feeling slightly better today. Less hopeless and pessimistic. I reflected on how almost everyone at every stage in history probably felt this fear of the future and a clinging desire for the supposedly simpler past. I guess it just means I'm getting old. I stood in line at the supermarket and pretended it was 2050 and I was wistfully dreaming of when I stood in line at supermarkets and everything was simple.

Sure, there are very real problems linked to overpopulation and our plundering of our resources. And new technology can be difficult to negotiate. But, I'll cope with the latter when I come to it, and as for the former, I'm convincing myself again that it's better to be delusionally optimistic and feel like I am doing something by recycling my tins or buying less clothes or whatever, than to be nihilistic and panicky about it and think it all hopeless.

So, vent over - next, back to baking...

(PS - it helps that I read this review of Straw Dogs which lets me see how biased and absurdly negative it is http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2002/sep/07/highereducation.news2)

New kitchen!

We've spent the last two weekends moving house. First, just the essentials came across and we revelled at how we echoed in the big new space like pinballs in a giant game. Then we spent a day packing and a day shifting boxes into a van, out of a van and into our lovely new space (I of course didn't do much lifting or shifting - bizarre to be incapacitated when you don't feel as though you should be...)

So, there's still a lot of unpacking to do. We are amazed and slightly disgusted by the acquisitions we've amassed. But the kitchen stuff is all in its new cupboards and I have already been baking. We've gone from having a tiny kitchen with no windows and very little space, to having this:

There's space! Light! Lots of surfaces! Loads of cupboards! Chairs and a table! I've been listening to a lot of Radio 4 and pottering around. Knitting at the table whilst potatoes bake; taking the time to wash up as I go along; spending all evening in the kitchen - that kind of thing. It's absolutely lovely.

This chocolate sandwich cake I baked yesterday, as a celebration of having all the baking stuff finally moved in. It's nothing spectacular - I won't bother giving you the recipe as I don't think it's worth it, but it comes from my newest cookbook, which produced some super scotch pancakes a couple of weekends ago - I will post the recipe for these soon.

And finally, here's me in the new space, looking very pleased with myself, and showing off my little 14-week bump (which I have to admit just looks like I do normally after a big meal and sticking my tummy out!):

The Make Lounge

So, yesterday evening I spent three hours tussling with zipper foots, interfacing, unruly zigzag stitching and a whole host of other sewing vocabulary that previously read like a foreign language to me.

I was, with 9 other women, attending the second part of an A-line skirt workshop at the Make Lounge in Islington. The concept is social, short workshops on all things crafty in a friendly and stylish atmosphere.

I bought a second-hand sewing machine last year, and leapt into trying to sew without any real idea of what I was doing. Unsurprisingly my attempts were a little disappointing, to say the least. The Make Lounge appealed because it only required a one or two week commitment rather than the longer courses that I'd found at local colleges or sewing shops. The idea of nibbling and drinking while you learnt also appealed to me, so I signed up first for a cushion cover workshop.

That was pretty good. It turned out that the proffered snacks only extended to tea, warm Pinot Grigio and those little packets of biscuits you get in hotels, but we learned a lot, and I loved being able to take home something complete (and quite cute, if I say so myself) at the end of it.

This time - the A line skirt workshop - the sewing stepped up a notch, and I found a little streak of sewing rage emerging (not surprising given the tube rage, road rage, not-winning-at-board-games rage, people-who-don't-say-thankyou-when-you-hold-the-door-open rage, and various other afflictions I suffer). First of all my fabric was too light, and the zigzags wouldn't work. Then I found I hadn't got the right type of zip and I had to rip it all out and re-sew.

I started to feel a little bit like I was back in Mrs White's textiles class, circa 1995. Albeit, a textiles class with Lily Allen on the ipod, the aforementioned white wine, and a much lovelier teacher than Mrs White ever was. (Do they still do 'Textiles' at school btw? Ridiculous name really - I didn't learn anything about textiles, just how to do some dodgy batik and tie die).

However, when I finally got to take home an (almost!) finished skirt I did start to feel a small sense of accomplishment. My aim in taking the course was to equip myself to be able to read a simple pattern and to sew - properly - by myself. I think now I should be able to make something very simple to a decent standard.

So, rubbish snacks, nice environment (though pretty cramped!), nice teacher, ok teaching, pretty expensive, all-in-all though a worthwhile use of three hours and a good concept.

They've recently also expanded the little shop that fronts the workshop space, which is full of terribly trendy embroidery patterns and sewing books. They could do with adding a nice little café; somewhere people could stop by in the day and grab a juice and a flapjack after they've browsed books or patterns, or where they could get hot drinks and snacks from during or before doing a workshop. It would be full of people stitching, knitting, planning, discussing craft projects. Could be pretty nice.

I would love to have some kind of workshop space attached to the imaginary café. Or just to use the space after hours for classes, courses, clubs. Sewing requires a huge amount of equipment and materials, but there would be other easier things peripatetic teachers could use the place for. It would be nice.

See more Make Lounge workshops here: http://www.themakelounge.com/workshops

Picture from Make Lounge website, as above

Happy New Year!

I would think that 'readers' of this blog at the moment would be mainly of the imaginary variety, but I'd like to wish you anyway a very Happy New Year for 2010!

I am a real sucker for new year. For as long as I can remember I have been a planner, a list-maker and an improver. I love blank sheets and I love the promise of a better, newer, shinier me. I shouldn't fall for the seduction of new year's resolutions I know, because they never work, but my brain can't help itself. It starts out small, thinking maybe it could just commit me to sticking to my budgets. Then it thinks, oh and why not add yoga twice a week, because that's not so hard and I do really want to do it. And then I read something about Buy Nothing New promises and start thinking I'll maybe only buy food and nothing else new this year. Then I just get carried away, and things start popping up and being added to an imaginary list and before you know it I am vowing to swim twice a week; always cook from scratch; do my hair differently every day; smile at at least one person on the daily commute; wear high heels more; write letters the first tuesday of every month; host dinner parties; learn how to make hollandaise; sauce do a photo course; knit seven items; grow some vegetables on the terrace; read Seneca, and keep the bathroom clean!

It seems such a lovely vision, this organised, healthy, fulfilled life, that I get reluctant to give up these notions and to accept that I make these plans every single day of my life, and I have never yet in my 28 years had the right balance of time and willpower to feel like I am fitting in everything I mean to.

So, I think I should try and set intentions instead. Unlike resolutions which are focused on an end-goal and which you can either fail or pass at (most likely fail and become disspirited), intentions are ways of doing things, ways of being. And if you feel yourself slipping you refocus on it and get back on the path.

It's more difficult to set my intentions, because it's more inviting to think of the collectible and measurable achievements that my resolutions tend to be. But when I think about what is behind all of them, I can see some common threads:
- using my time wisely by doing things I know will make me feel happy and satisfied (e.g. going for a walk, knitting, phoning friends) rather than anxious and dissatisfied (watching TV, slobbing around)
- keeping myself and my environs in a manner which makes me feel pleased rather than a little depressed
- keeping up old and making new connections.

So, my intentions will be these:

- to pay attention to my need for creativity and fulfilling and energising activities
- to be open to others and open to connecting to others

For more on intentions see the following articles:
http://www.yogajournal.com/lifestyle/1526
http://www.yogajournal.com/wisdom/926

Let me tell you a little bit more about myself...

Sometimes I have these big pangs of regret. Especially if I'm walking across a bridge, with wind in my hair and music in my ears. I regret not taking up the place I was offered on Birkbeck's Dance Diploma, because my sodding boss said I might not always be able to leave work on time to get there. And I regret not having pursued the myriad creative dreams I once had. And not taking advantage of time and money I had in younger days to go and seek all those adventures in foreign lands that everyone else seemed to be doing.

But sometimes it seems to me perhaps 'doing' isn't so much my calling. I've often lamented being an observer, but actually I think I'm good at it. I never ended up publishing a novel before I was 18, as was my childhood plan, but I'm really good at the reading that inspired that plan. I can appreciate some lines with a kind of tangible thrill of love. I can get so caught up in worlds that everything looks different for a couple of days; even my internal narrative can be swayed by the prose patterns of whatever I'm reading.

And whilst I didn't 'do' much at university, opting for hours spent browsing bookshops and record shops rather than joining clubs or paragliding for charity, I think I really have idling down to an art. I can recall time spent in the simple pleasure of a good cup of tea, a pastry and a notepad with a huge amount of detail and a lot of fondness. I mused and sipped and wandered and wondered away most of my twenties. I spent hours sitting on benches and sofas and stools. I rejoiced in light on leaves and hidden puffs of smoke from chimneys. I loved evening sunlight on stone, I lay in parks for hours with half a baguette, a hunk of cheese and a paper, watching the grass, the beetles, the people.

I really appreciate the art of simple idling. And whilst I recognise too the importance of doing, and am really glad I have got better at doing (I got a job! I went on holidays! I did awesome courses!), I know that doing alone would be a robotic kind of life, and one that would really miss those moments of tea-aided relaxation, and cake-abetted introspection.

If I run a cafe, I'll be doing, doing, doing. But I'll be nurturing a lovely cocoon where others can choose to happily idle, dream, sit back and reflect and appreciate at their will.