Finding life hard?

2012-02-01T15:02:00.002Z

We celebrated Steve's birthday in Zac's last night. Steve runs Breakout Adventure, a charity offering outdoor pursuits. Steve bought this old boat, Svanskar, years ago with the intention of using it for young people to experience life on board and ever since then it's been in dock being repaired.

So it seemed appropriate for his cake to be ship-shaped.

Remember those sprouts I lost ...

2012-02-01T14:54:00.004Z

on Christmas Day?

Husband found them in the outside toilet today.

He lifts me up

2012-01-29T19:57:00.006Z

A good all-round meeting in church this morning but the best bit was a moment we were given early on.

The words of the song we were about to sing were up on the screen and Rich, who was leading worship, suggested we pick one line or phrase that spoke to us and think about it quietly for 1 minute.

The line I chose went something like, 'when I fall down you lift me up.' Initially I though, 'Well, I fall down a a lot so I'm really glad you're there to lift me,' but then it struck me that in order to lift me God has to get down there with me.

Just like Jesus bent down in the dirt to write on the floor when dealing with the woman caught in adultery so he gets down in the dirt with us, in amongst all our rubbish and crap. And when we're ready helps us get out.

And I'm so glad we don't have a God who keeps himself clean and at a distance. He doesn't just hold out a hand and wait for us to reach up and take it, he gets down, wipes our faces, tends out wounds and lifts us up.

From Pretty Legs Hinds

2012-01-29T19:50:00.002Z

If you've seen my Facebook profile photo you'll be able to judge for yourself how apt that is!

In which Husband and I argue and I am right

2012-01-29T19:25:00.001Z

It's intolerable, don't you think? How many people must have - or should have - checked this survey before it was sent out to the public? And still it contains a major spelling mistake. That's lost the Conservatives my vote anyway ...

When I was trying to take the photo of the survey Husband came in and said I was holding the camera at the wrong angle. It needs to be at 90 he said.

'What? That's stupid.'

I wanted to show 2 bits of the survey at the same time: the spelling mistake and the scribble that passes for the logo at the bottom. Husband said, 'You want it to focus on both those so you have to hold it at 90 degrees like this.'

And he held it as shown in the diagram below.

'That's the way I was going to hold it,' I said, 'but that's not at 90 degrees.'

'Yes, it is,' he said, and he held the camera at right angles to the piece of paper, lifted it up above the paper and turned it over. 'See it's at 90 degrees.'

'No, it's not; it's parallel.'

We continued in this vein for some time until he said, 'well I know what I meant,' which was the closest I'm going to get to an 'Okay, I admit you were right, dear.'

I have to tell you about this because it's rare for me to be right on something vaguely technical or mathematical. I'm not renowned for my precision or expertise in these matters. However I do have a fairly good reputation as a cook so perhaps I shouldn't show you these jars.

On the left is harissa paste as it's meant to be; on the right is harissa paste after it's been hidden in the back of the fridge for an indeterminate time.

I used the one on the left for my Moroccan lamb shanks this evening although the one on the right is probably just bubbling over with antibiotic qualities.

Judge a book by its cover

2012-01-28T11:19:00.005Z

After getting up with the intention of being dynamic and starting to move furniture back into decorated rooms, I've just spent the last hour browsing book covers on Amazon's Kindle site.

Thank you all for your comments. I understand now that when you read an ebook you see the title in black and white but by then you'll have bought it so it doesn't matter. If I want to attract readers who don't already know me and are buying it just to be nice and make me feel good, then the cover is important.

I've come to the conclusion that you can tell a lot about a book by its cover. (Has somebody said that before?) Some are obviously 'home-made' - but that isn't necessarily bad - and some you wouldn't touch with a barge-pole. The title needs to be big and clear unless you're a famous author in which case your name will take centre stage.

So, of my three choices, I am discarding number 2 because it looks unprofessional. I still like number 1 but I'm not sure it's eye-catching enough. So I'm coming down in favour of number 3.

Yes, I know it's very girly but my audience will be primarily female. Also it needs to fit into an Amazon genre and Romantic Fiction comes closest even though it isn't first and foremost a romance. It's not family saga and it's not literary fiction.

It's in diary form and covers a year in the heroine's life. I did toss around some page from a diary idea and might still have a go at that before finalising the cover.

But now I really ought to go and shift a sofa.

Your opinions, please

2012-01-26T15:22:00.000Z

Number 1: For some reason transferring it between programs made some of the bits move off the picture. Must be shy. Anyway that's the one I was working on yesterday and you get the general idea. I think it's too 'small' now.

Number 2: I wanted a different colour background but gave up after all my efforts failed.

Number 3: Elder Son's first effort for me. He threw it together in a spare moment before I told him I'd finally settled on a different title. It looks more professional and good as a thumbnail but is it too obviously girly? Although I imagine my audience will be mainly female.

Going crazy

2012-01-26T14:12:00.001Z

As I said, I've been working on a cover for my novel. After spending a lot of time on it yesterday - and giving up temporarily because I couldn't understand the software - I finally got round to reading some 'How to ...' advice on publishing ebooks.

One point they all stress is the importance of the cover. And the fact that it has to look good as a thumbnail. Which sort of rules out the subtle cover I'd been working on. Back to the drawing board. Or drawing bed in my case.

I lay there contemplating covers and came up with the 'perfect' design for my book, so I got up this morning all keen and enthused and bursting with excitement - only to be thwarted at every turn by the intricacies of vectors, file formats, programs that stop working at the drop of a pencil and remembering an article I'm supposed to have written by yesterday.

Article is written now, I've had lunch and I have the next 3 hours to 'be creative'. How long before I'm tearing out my grey-at-the-roots hair? (Note to self: must go to hairdresser soon.)

I'm off to a networking event this evening on behalf of Zac's. The good thing is we get fed; the bad thing is I have to talk to strange people. But it's about Zac's so I can manage that I'm sure. Ric's coming with me. He wasn't originally but I'm glad he is as, if I get The Call, he can stand in for me. When I told him that he said, 'At the dinner or delivering the baby?'
I laughed but apparently, in another life, delivering babies was second nature to him. Hm, maybe I should bear that in mind.

Now to stop procrastinating and get back to book covers. Wish me luck.

On the road

2012-01-25T21:35:00.001Z

But not to Devon. No, I'm talking about a different road, one I've been journeying along for far too long but one I think might just have a happy ending - to mix a metaphor.

A couple of weeks ago Elder Son emailed me with a link to an article by a man who'd self-published his book on Kindle. ES said, 'If you've given up sending it to agents you have nothing to lose doing this.'

So that's what I'm in the process of doing: preparing my manuscript and starting the process of turning it into an ebook that will be available on Amazon. The manuscript of my first novel that is.

I began writing it about 8 years ago and I've been through highs and lows with it, the highest being when an agent asked to read it all after enjoying the first three chapters (I tell you, I'd selected the cast for the film version before she finally said no) and the lowest being a critique I received that was so bad I couldn't take what she'd written seriously.

I continued to have faith in my writing and in my novel, though it was a faith that wavered at times. Indeed when I started reading it again when preparing to edit it for the ebook I got through the first chapters and thought, 'This is terrible!' But I think that's because it's over-familiar. I've worked, re-worked, amended, edited and changed viewpoints till I'm sick and tired. As I continued reading my opinion improved and lots of it made laugh and some moved me. And I think that's pretty promising.

So that's what is taking up my time at the moment. I've just about finished editing and now I'm working on a front cover. Elder Son asked me what the themes of the book were and he drafted a cover, which I loved - but then thought it might be a bit girly. But he's introduced me to the world of vectors and I'm driving myself crazy trying to work with a new drawing program. (When I tried to download the software I found myself with monkeys instead of a drawing program; it took me a while to find out what I did wrong - and I still haven't got rid of the monkeys.)

I'll be asking your opinions soon.

But I'm excited. I wrote the novel hoping people would read it and even if it's only a handful, if they enjoy it, I'll be happy. (Although happier still if I become a world-famous millionaire author who could ask for Alan Rickman to be cast as leading man.)

This'n'that

2012-01-25T21:16:00.000Z

Daughter's due date is 4th February so we're on standby to rush off to Devon at any moment. It's a bit like living next to a volcano; you always have your bag packed just in case. (Not that Daughter looks like a volcano you understand!)

I had a frustrating shopping trip today. I went out ready to spend Husband's hard-earned money on rugs, curtain tie-backs and lamps and all I came home with was a can of paint. But Husband's now repainted the wall over the fireplace and I'm much happier. In fact you might say that we've ended up with the sludgey colours I wanted and Husband didn't want in the first place. The two walls for which I chose colours I thought Husband would like just happen to be the ones that have been changed. Ho hum.

I'm sure there were some other things I was going to mention before I move on to my next post which is the exciting one!

Oh yes, I was in a meeting this week and a role was being discussed. It happens that I'm already doing part of the role so you might have thought that people would have asked me if I wanted to take on the rest. But no. No-one even suggested me! I didn't want the job, you understand, but it would have been nice to have been noticed.

It reminded me of another meeting I went to once when suggestions were asked for. I was a newcomer to this group so still rather timid but I plucked up my courage and made my suggestion. There was a moment's silence and then the conversation continued as if I'd never spoken. I didn't say anything again for a long time.

And I found the borrowed book I knew I hadn't lost but put in a safe place. Which in this instance just happened to be under the bedside cabinet. If only I'd thought of looking there before I went out and bought a replacement copy to return.

It's going to be one of those days

2012-01-24T12:17:00.000Z

I spent 5 minutes trying to find a number on the phone and wondering how I'd made calls before before I realised I was using the land line not my mobile.

In the bank I spent a similar time trying to work out how to get the lid off the bank's pen before realising that what I had in my hand was the pen holder and that the pen was missing.

Then I got home and my computer died in front of my eyes. It was especially bad as the recipe for the cake I'm making for Zac's tonight - and for which I'd just been out and bought the ingredients - was only available as a photo on the computer.

However as you know, I am a computer genius. I switched off the computer and turned it back on. No joy. I switched it off again, picked it up, shook it and switched it back on. Hurrah! See? Genius.

Now I'm working on the principle that things happen in threes so I'm safe for the rest of the day ...

Brazilians, cossacks and burpees

2012-01-24T10:38:00.000Z

This is what Husband had me doing yesterday: shifting three sofas out of the lounge and piling them up on top each other in the hall. Just call me Superwoman.

Although I didn't feel like Superwoman when I was in circuit training later. I've come to the conclusion I have a problem with my brain. At least that's Husband's theory.

I struggle with any exercise that requires me to move both feet at the same time and in the same direction (such as a bunny hop or burpee). My right foot obediently does as it's told; my left foot follows - literally. A beat later. Like Corporal Jones in Dad's Army, my left foot is always one step behind everything else.

And, what's more, they should rename the squat thrust; for people like me it should be called the froggie thrust as my feet point outwards at roughly 45 degrees. I never realised how bad it was until I started doing circuits and Jules says, 'Your hips, legs and feet should all be pointing in the same direction.' Whoops.

P.S. Meant to say the carpet men are coming today to fit our new lounge carpet. Yay!
P.P.S. Carpet men have been. Now I need to go to the shop and buy different paint as the carpet doesn't match the wall over the fireplace.

A weekend away

2012-01-22T19:42:00.001Z

We've been in London this weekend. Well, Egham actually but if I say London then you'll know which part of the country I mean.

Yesterday afternoon GrandSon had his first swimming lesson and we were able to watch. He was by far the best splasher and floater - and I'm not at all biased - and, of course, handsomest.

Then this morning we went for a walk in Savill Garden, which is part of the Crown Estate and I suppose officially part of Windsor Great park. It's a well-looked-after flower garden, which is very popular with people out for a Sunday stroll, and deservedly so. Even at this time of year there was much of interest such as these brightly coloured dogwood stems.

And this unimpressive shrub, which had the most delicious perfume that filled the air as you passed by. It was an unlikely contender when we were sniffing around to determine the source of the scent, which was vaguely jasminey.

The story of Yarri

2012-01-20T16:40:00.002Z

According to the Guardian, Australia is set to recognise Aborigines as first people of continent. It's only amazing that it has taken this long to get this far.

Zac's Place is the beneficiary of a piece of art that celebrates Aboriginal culture.

This isn't the best photo: it still has some of the cellophane wrapping on it for a start! But it tells a story, the story of Yarri.

In the first half of the nineteenth century white immigrants settled in the flood plain of Gundagi ignoring advice from the local people that it was prone to flooding. The settlers coped with minor floods but one day, in 1852, the torrent that had been anticipated arrived and many were drowned in their attempts to escape.

While the flood was at its height it was too dangerous for rowboats to go in the water but one man, an Aborigine named Yarri, took his frail bark canoe and rowed back and for into the raging waters. His canoe could only hold one passenger so time and time again he risked his own life, rescuing, in total, 49 people. On the second day of the rescue another Aborigine named Jacky Jacky joined him and he rescued another 20 settlers.

It's thought to be the first act of reconciliation between the indigenous people and the white settlers, and many of today's Gundagi descendants owe their existence to the bravery of these two men. You can read the full story here.

Apparently, in Aboriginal culture, there can only be one artistic interpretation of an event and the artist of this piece had to search hard to make sure no art illustrating this event already existed. It was commissioned for Zac's Place by our good friends in Australia, and, if you know anything about Aboriginal art you'll know that each dot has a significance: I think there may be 69 dots in fact.

Treacle pudding and custard

2012-01-19T19:26:00.001Z

The trouble with writing for a food website is that I get cravings for the food in question, in this case, steamed treacle pudding. As you see it didn't come out of the basin very successfully but tasted nice especially with lots of custard.

Definitely back on the diet tomorrow.

THAT phone call

2012-01-19T09:57:00.002Z

Nick asked what phone call I was trying to avoid - successfully yesterday, I should add.

It's one where I know I will lose the 'discussion' and come off the phone feeling bad and cross with myself.

And I'm about to make it now. That is, when I've finished my cereal. And drunk my tea. And blown my nose. Maybe I should go to the toilet as well. Or even shower?

10 minutes later
First attempt made. Recipient in work but not in office - as I secretly suspected he wouldn't be at this time of day. I will call back later.

2 hours later
Second attempt. Got answering machine. Left a message to call me.

7 hours later
Had phone call with anticipated result. Ah well, some things aren't worth fighting over. Or rather other things are more important.

The sort of granny I aspire to be

2012-01-18T17:29:00.000Z

She took to eating lunch and tea

While sitting in her favourite tree.

She tried to fly one late June day

(No, not in the conventional way,

But from the window, with an umbrella)

Even though we tried to tell her:

"Do not do it, granny dear."

She simply said she could not hear.

I asked her why she'd done all this;

She said that I should know,

That grandmas aren't all they seem,

That though they're old and slow,

Exciting thoughts are going on -

It's just that they don't show.

Excerpts from My Granny was a frightful bore (but she isn't any more)

by Nanette Newman and Beryl Cook

It's amazing what I'll do to avoid making a phone call

2012-01-18T16:23:00.000Z

I found 26 socks under Younger Son's bed, not quite beating the record of 27. Some pairs, some odd but maybe some of those will pair up with the lonely socks in my OddSox bag. I can but hope.

It wasn't so much that I went under the bed to find the socks but rather that we took the bed out leaving the socks (and assorted debris) exposed. Just call me Mrs Shifta, beds, chest of drawers moved. It's a good job I'm a big strong girl the things Husband tells me to 'just lift up over the desk'.

Younger Son's room is next on Husband's decorating list. We're converting it into a grandchildren bedroom. What fun!

Talking of socks, I've been sneezing mine off with the dust in the room. Husband tells me I should be sneezing out through my nose to clear it and when I asked how I was supposed to do that he told me to keep my mouth shut. Well, I tried but my head nearly burst.

Hakuna matata

2012-01-18T09:56:00.001Z

My enjoyment of the bible study at Zac's last night was marred by the almost continual stream of foul-smelling farts being produced by the person sitting next to me.

It seemed rude to move so I tried discreetly to waft the odour away with a makeshift fan but all that happened was that Steve, who was leading it, thought I was hot and turned down the heating.

That aside, the study was good, looking at the feeding of the 5,000, with an alternative explanation (to a simple miracle) thrown in for thought i.e. that Jesus - and the little boy who offered the 5 loaves and 2 fishes - set in motion a process of sharing food that continues in the church today.

P.S. I've just remembered that, later in the evening, I slapped Steve across the back of the head but I can't recall why. I think it was something he said about women and multi-tasking but I can't multi-task so it must have been some other inference.

Sorry, it's the rules

2012-01-17T19:03:00.001Z

I'm not sure if I should publish this post so if you're reading it you'll know I decided to 'publish and be damned.'

The Night Shelter is a brilliant scheme and I was delighted to have my chance to help out on Friday but, ever since then, I've been struggling with an issue.

One of the things about the Night Shelter, which has run successfully in London and other towns and cities for some years, is that there have to be strictly defined rules, Rules that you have to abide by. Rules like, if you're not there on time i.e. before 8.00 pm, then you're not allowed in.

So last Friday one guest arrived at about 9.30. His name was on the list but he was late so refused entry. Because that's the rules and there have to be rules because otherwise the guests will take advantage. If you break a rule once then next time it'll be that little bit later (or he'll be a little bit drunker or a little bit bolshier) and when do you stop? And besides the guests who'd managed to get there on time were objecting in no uncertain terms. 'It's not fair. We told him to come with us and he didn't so it's his own fault. You can't let him in.'

When I left the building at 10.15 pm it was 3 degrees on what was looking to be the coldest night of the year so far. We had space and spare beds and this man who'd made his way a few miles out of town to find us was sent out to sleep ... where? I don't know. I do know I can't see Jesus saying, 'Sorry but go away.'

I'm not on the rota again as Daughter's baby is expected in the next few weeks and I didn't want to have to let people down at the last moment, and I'm glad about that. Much as I think the shelter is a wonderful thing it needs stronger people than me to run it.

Doddery old drivers

2012-01-17T18:48:00.000Z

Since Husband passed his driving test at the age of 17 he's been grumbling about doddery old drivers getting in his way, and his ambition has been to, one day, be similarly annoying to other drivers.

I'm pleased to say he has achieved that ambition.

Well, I don't know about other drivers but he annoys me. Sometimes he seems to forget he's driving, especially if he's explaining things to me, and he goes really slowly. I find my stomach getting tense as I press the non-existent accelerator.

Heaven help us when he gets really old.

Confused or what?

2012-01-17T16:39:00.000Z

Currently, January 2012, we have in flower in the garden: rose, camellia, snowdrop and geranium.

There are some confused plants about.

When you don't need a husband

2012-01-17T16:20:00.003Z

Driving to town this afternoon Husband and I had a discussion about the symbol used locally on signposts to illustrate the waterfront industrial museum. Husband claimed we'd already had this conversation (we had) and that he'd said it was the letter M. I said I didn't remember him saying that but 'I might have forgotten. I forget lots of things. My memory isn't the best. Nothing about me is the best these days.'
(Pause)
I coughed.
(Pause)
'Excuse me,' I said.
'What?' said Husband.
'You're supposed to say something at this point.'
'Oh, I wasn't listening. You'd gone off one one of your rabbits.'
Undeterred I started again. 'I said that my memory isn't the best and that nothing is the best about me nowadays. You're supposed to say I have lots of best bits to which I will reply, "well, you've got to say that as you're my husband." ... And I don't really need you to take part in this conversation anyway, do I?'

That's the good thing about being married a long time. Predictability means I can have a conversation on my own.

Uh-uh

2012-01-17T16:10:00.002Z

Does this look like icing to you?

No, nor me. Either I've got something wrong or Mary Berry, famous tv cook, has.

I thought I'd try her 'favourite traybake' recipe from this month's Sainsburys magazine for Zac's tonight but I'm not convinced by it.

She suggested using a potato peeler to create chocolate curls to decorate the top. When i tried that this is where most of the chocolate went.

(Obviously it's melted a bit on my hand; I didn't try and peel the chocolate when it was warm.)

P.S. It's turned out better than I anticipated.

The fish keep following me

2012-01-17T11:20:00.001Z

It's bad enough having George watching me eat and begrudging me every mouthful; now I have the fish watching me too. They follow me around the kitchen, their big eyes appealing. And they start first thing in the morning and they're not due to be fed until 6 in the evening!

It's very disconcerting having your every move scrutinised. By fish.

I don't believe they can have a 7-second memory as alleged.

Monday's Odd Shot

2012-01-17T10:59:00.001Z

This odd shot is even odder than intended as I can't make it appear the right way up - even though it started out that way.

In the wood in Devon last week we discovered these balloons growing wild.

For Katney's Odd Shots.

The Jesus clock and insomnia

2012-01-16T15:23:00.000Z

We've had a recent influx of new people at Linden so much so that Sunday morning meetings are beginning to present a Health & Safety hazard. I suggested to Chris, my boss, that we could solve the problem by replacing the boring clock in the hall with the Jesus clock from my office. My theory is that only people who really belong in Linden would stay then.

Chris vetoed the idea just because.

However he did make a valid point. Some would love the clock while laughing heartily but others might love the clock because of its religious symbolism. The first group is welcome; people in the the second group might soon find themselves struggling with Linden's less-than-religious attitude.

* * * * * * * * *
I was reading an article in a magazine all about home remedies for various ailments. If you have trouble sleeping try applying pressure to the pad at the base of your big toe. Apparently, according to reflexologists, this clears the head thus enabling you to sleep well. And while you're massaging your big toe chew on some lettuce, which, as every bunny knows, is highly soporific.

Husband dear, would you mind ...

2012-01-15T09:52:00.001Z

Husband finished painting the lounge on Tuesday; yesterday we went out and ordered carpet (which was quite easy as we could only find one carpet shop and the choice of green carpets there was limited). Now all I have to do is decide what I want Husband to repaint as the colour scheme doesn't look quite right.

Husband is resigned to this, or maybe I should say used to this. We rarely manage to decorate a room without me changing my mind at some point after he's started.

I suggested we should repaint the woodwork - if you recall by the time I'd got round to choosing suitable paint I'd lost the will - but Husband suggested re-painting the yellow wall - as we have lots of leftover 'drab' paint and won't have to buy any more. As the yellow wall was my token gesture to his request for warm yellow colours I'll probably let him do that.

Except now he's got me worrying that the room might look too cold rather than the calm serene effect I'm going for.

And he says that George won't be allowed in there when it's all finished. Yeah, right.

The men loved my dumplings

2012-01-14T11:57:00.001Z

Six churches in Swansea are working together to operate a Night Shelter during January and February, providing food and accommodation for rough sleepers. Linden is doing Friday nights and last night I was on duty for cooking. The menu is preplanned - we're to offer cawl (traditional welsh stew with lamb, root vegetables and leeks). I always make dumplings with my cawl at home so I did the same last night and they went down a treat. 'Oh, dumplings! I haven't had dumplings for years!' Or as one man called them, doughboys.

I grew up calling them doughboys but Husband didn't know what I meant so I changed to dumplings. It was great hearing them called by their 'proper' name again! The man, a local, said his nan had been a school dinner-lady and she'd made doughboys so maybe it's a South Walian term.

I followed it with rice pudding and again the cries rang out, 'I haven't had rice pudding for years,' and the talk was all about remembering school dinners with tapioca, sago and rice puddings and the inevitable blob of strawberry jam in the middle.

Nick, who laid the table, suggested candles and wine glasses for the orange squash, which made the table look lovely. One of our guests said it was like a romantic dinner for twenty. (Guests and volunteers sit down to eat together.)

As well as the volunteers from Linden representatives of the housing groups come along too and one, a nurse, who works with the homeless, said what an improvement she could see, particularly in some of the men, even in the two weeks that the shelter has been running. They have some sort of aim in the day - they have to get themselves to the next night shelter/church in time and the churches are all over Swansea - and it gets them motivated and they have to be sober enough to manage it.

They are all so appreciative, it's fab! Last night was my only stint as Daughter's due date is 4th February and I didn't want to commit myself to anything too close to that date as we might be in Devon. But fortunately we had over 40 volunteers from Linden and that's amazing. As a church we're not good at volunteering. We turn up to things and help but don't like to commit in advance!

Naughty George!

2012-01-11T09:27:00.003Z

He escaped this morning.

First time for ages but fortunately he must have made a beeline for his new best friend who gave him a bowl of food while phoning us. 'I've never seen a dog eat like him,' he said.
At least we'll know where to go first to look for him in future.

He got out through the back gate, which had been opened during the night. We're guessing someone was hoping to get into the garage and look for stealables. Unfortunately for the thief our garage is so securely locked I struggle to get in and I have keys.

The greenhouse door had been opened though making Husband panic. 'It's all right,' he reported back. 'They haven't taken my lime plant.'
It's his pride and joy.

A success and a failure

2012-01-10T18:59:00.000Z

Tried out 2 new recipes today: Gary Rhodes' slow-roasted belly pork and Hummingbird Bakery coconut jam sandwich.

I was in M&S looking for dinner inspiration and saw the belly pork. Husband's had it a few times when we've eaten out so I thought I'd give it a go, but as you see from the photo it wasn't entirely successful.

It wasn't a complete failure - the meat tasted quite nice - but the top and the tin that were supposed to have a nice caramelised coating were just black. And the meat was a bit chewy.

Pork isn't my favourite meat but I hoped the slow-roasting and the fat would make it tastier. So it's back to the drawing board for belly pork, methinks. I've been through a few of my recipe books and none of them mention belly pork; I assume that's because my books are mostly old and it's only recently found its way back into fashion.

I had more success with my coconut jam sandwich from one of my Christmas present cookbooks. I'll see how it goes down with the Zac's mob tonight but I like it very much.

I'm free!

2012-01-10T12:55:00.000Z

My optician was called Mr Humphreys. It was so hard to resist the urge, when shown into his room, to say, 'Are you free, Mr Humphreys?'

Is it me or does everyone feel as if they're back in school when they go for an eye test?

The pressure is on to get the right answers. It's fine when he responds, 'Good,' but then the inevitable moment comes when you have to say which circle is the darker and it's, 'um, um, the right one? Maybe?' and he says doubtfully, 'Okaaay.' Then puts different glasses on you to test if you're lying to him.
But I was doing okay until he brought up on the computer screen the pictures they'd taken of the back of my eye. He could have just said, 'Fine,' but no, he felt the need to explain it all to me.' This dark spot is where the front of the eye is and this is an artery and this a vein.' Far too much information for a woman of tender sensibilities. Get me out of here!

But I'm pleased to report that my eyes are fine - or at least they haven't deteriorated any more since the last test. At least not enough to warrant new glasses.

And the receptionist, when I paid, pointed out that I had £28 worth of Boots points on my loyalty card. 'You should treat yourself,' she said.
I didn't like to say that I had never managed to work out how to exchange points.
That and I'm a serial point collector. I have thousands of Sainsburys points that Daughter keeps telling me I should spend.

Poor George!

2012-01-09T16:53:00.001Z

George has perfected his 'I'm so sad and scared' look. He managed to wangle three lots of treats at the vets' and he only went for his vaccination.

I have an appointment at the optician's tomorrow. I wonder if I tried the same thing I'd get chocolate.

I've given up

2012-01-07T16:41:00.000Z

I've ordered a second-hand copy from eBay of the book I borrowed as I've searched high and low and can't find it anywhere.
I know I put it somewhere safe ...
However while searching I did find another book I'd forgotten I'd borrowed so that's a plus. I also found the £10 voucher from Waterstone's that they gave me because I spent so much there before Christmas. So a win win situation really.
And Husband is cooking Gary Rhodes' shepherd's pie for dinner for me tonight so all is well in the Hinds' household. I don't know what makes Gary's version so much better than any other but it is. Maybe it's the richness - or simply having it cooked by someone else.
The original plan was that he would make it for dinner yesterday while I was in work but his roller broke. Or that's his story anyway.

Whoop! Whoop!

2012-01-07T14:26:00.002Z

I'm a centerian - my new word! I averaged 106 daily blog readers last week. That's the first time my number's gone over 100.

I know that's nothing compared to those of you who count their readers in the hundreds or even thousands but it's an achievement for me. And I believe that includes a lot of regular readers who actually come to read what I have to say rather than people who've been brought here by a random search engine.
Some people comment regularly too and I much appreciate those words, and I know from occasional comments that there are other regulars.
There are some blogs that specialise and deal primarily with one or two topics and they attract readers interested in those subjects. While I have my favourite themes - George escaping, Zac's chaos and so on - which are popular with readers too - some of my posts are fairly random. (Okay, make that very random!) I know numbers aren't important but it's lovely to know a reasonable number of you find my writing entertaining.
I love it when you say that I made you laugh. That has to be the best reason for writing.

So to each one of you 106 I say thank you!

Oh yes I have!

2012-01-06T22:06:00.000Z

I've just come back from the panto!

It was great. I had to drag Husband with me but even he said it was better than he expected. And as for the 3D effects! I was ducking behind the lady in front of me to avoid the flying rocks!

It was a very modern panto with lots of singing, flashy lights and amazing sets. What it lacked was tradition: there was no striptease from the Dame or a custard pie fight and not a single 'He's behind you'.

I suppose pantos have to change for modern audiences. I did enjoy the 3D but still hanker after a bit of 'Oh no he's not.

My first experience of theatre was the annual trip to the pantomime. My mum worked for the local bus company and every year they organised a trip to the panto for employees' children. My excitement at going was marred slightly at the thought of having to go with a crowd of children I didn't know but once I was there, and caught up in the magic - and the smell of the greasepaint! - I forgot my terror and became, just for an afternoon, a sequinned-costumed princess.

And Daisy, Sean's daughter, who is one of the little dancers in the show, was, of course, the real star!

P.S. Widow Twankey at least did manage to retain some of the old-style humour. 'A man came into the launderette wearing cling film pants. I said, "I can see you're nuts."'

What do you do with your spare arm?

2012-01-05T17:02:00.001Z

We decided we'd stick to the original curtain plan for the French doors but buy the only option available - which is too narrow and too long.

Watch this space for developments.

** * * * * *

I've been having trouble getting off to sleep recently, mainly because I can't work out what I usually do with my spare arm - the one that isn't underneath me that is. I'm sure I must have done something with it in the past but just what escapes me.

But while I couldn't sleep last night my head was busy and, amazingly, today I've followed through on lots of the actions I planned. I am quite impressed with myself. Now if I could just remember where the safe place is that I've stored the borrowed book.

I yearn for magnolia

2012-01-05T16:43:00.001Z

So I sat down and had a little think. I planned the colour scheme and chose the colours. Then I went to the store clutching my precious list in my hot little hand.

Of my original colour choices they only had Mojito in stock - and I didn't like that after all. I was determined - or rather Husband had threatened me with no dinner - not to go home without paint so after a great deal of uum-ing and aah-ing and walking to and fro and putting on and taking off of glasses, I went for Cotton Fields and Honey Lust. In place of Mojito I got another 2 colour charts to ponder upon and as I was the only Aged White thing in the section a large tin of white paint prettily-named to prevent me confusing it with juts-ordinary-white paint joined its compatriots in my basket.

By the time it came to choosing a colour for the woodwork I had lost the will.

Next time I'me going to paint it all Brilliant White and give guests felt pens as they enter with an open invitation to 'decorate our room please'. What am I saying, 'next time'?! At our decorating rate we'll be dead by the next time.

Do you remember when having magnolia was considered daring?

My problem is ...

2012-01-05T12:46:00.001Z

No, I'll amend that. (Actually my immediate problem is that someone - probably me - has pushed my keyboard further back on my desk and I am struggling to reach it. Remedy: bring it forward. If only life - and decorating - were that simple.) One of my problems is that I am a sucker for a neat turn of phrase.

Daughter is a copywriter and thus one of that band of people who contribute to making my life difficult.

If I had to look at a paint chart and choose it would be relatively simple; because I allow myself to read the colour names I am drawn into the web of deliciousness promised by Summer Pudding and Winterbloom. How can I resist Cuban Heat or Happy Daze? Gentle Yellow, Fairy Dust and a Whisper of Snowfall all beckon me in. As for Sunday Best, Biscotti and Rice Pudding ...

I had more or less chosen my colour scheme when the opportunity to recreate French country living with chamomile yellow, truffle and linen shades was offered to me. Oh dear ...

My granny would turn in her grave

2012-01-05T10:29:00.001Z

I invented a pie for dinner the other evening using Christmas leftovers.

My pie was lightly spiced butternut squash and feta cheese with chilli and garlic wrapped in filo pastry. How middle class is that?! My granny wouldn't have heard of half the ingredients and as for using shop-bought pastry?!

She made the best shortcrust pastry. She taught me the method, told me the exact ingredients and watched as I made it; still it wasn't as good as hers.

Ever since I've felt a fear when called upon to make pastry. Mine's okay but it's not my granny's. But then again maybe I'm looking through rose-tinted spectacles at a past that is partly created from storybooks. That's what I accuse Husband of when he takes his first taste of my Christmas pudding, savours it, allows its flavour and texture to be appreciated before he says, 'It's good ... but not as good as Evelyn's.'

Husband used to work with Evelyn about 25 years ago. A Scot, at Christmas she would take one of her home-made puddings into the office to share with her fellow-workers. Husband has never forgotten these puddings - as he reminds me each year. I say length of time makes the memory sweeter and, just like Princess Diana will never look old, Evelyn's Christmas puddings will only grow in splendour as the years pass.

My granny used to make her own puddings, steaming them for a day in the big old family boiler. Now her puddings were really something ...

Monday's Odd Shot (belatedly)

2012-01-04T19:25:00.001Z

Am I missing something here?

Surely a blank stencil is just a bit of uncut cardboard?

For Katney's Odd Shots.

(I'm having trouble with this new Blogger layout; if I centralise my words my picture stays left. And the words are supposed to be underneath the photo not next to it.)

Hairy Mclary

2012-01-04T19:16:00.001Z

I must be a lot better: I've started having strange dreams again.

For about a week my dreams have been very normal, logical and sensible; last night I dreamt I had a beard growing from my right wrist. And that was the sanest bit.

Zac's back to 'normal'

2012-01-04T18:14:00.000Z

Back to Zac's last night. As Sean expected it was a low turn-out for the first bible study of the year so instead of getting straight back into Mark we chatted more informally (like it's ever formal!) about ways God had shown his presence to us last year. There were some great stories, with people sharing honestly and openly about painful times in their lives.

And hearing about answered prayer not in God's usual 'see if you can find me in this answer' way but obvious unambiguous ways.

A good start to 2012. Especially as someone brought a tin of Quality Street.

We have a problem, Houston

2012-01-04T16:47:00.003Z

Went wall-paper browsing today. First problem is that Husband doesn't like my suggestions. No, first problem is that Husband isn't listening to what I say so he says, 'Yes, that sounds nice,' then when I continue, says, 'Oh no, I don't like that.'

Next - and probably more serious - or expensive at least - problem is that our French doors/windows are bigger than ready-made curtains go up to. Current estimate for curtains made to measure that fit (in material I want) is more than the price of a small car (even in the sale). Even in material I don't want it costs nearly that much. And suppose I had them made and didn't like them!

I knew it couldn't be as simple as it appeared yesterday.

So, thinking off the wall, do we really need curtains at that window? We don't need them for privacy but we do for cosiness and heat retention. We've had the curtains open ever since Husband set up the Christmas grotto outside. Hmm, what about draping a blanket from the curtain-rail? I think I've still got some of my granny's old war blankets ...

Alternatively shutters? Blinds? A trendy mix of two pairs of contrasting but complementing cheapo ready-mades? Paint the windows?

Suggestions?

Welly good

2012-01-03T16:19:00.002Z

My new wellies, a Christmas present from Husband, were christened today. It was the first walk I'd been on for about a month what with Christmas and being busy and being poorly and I was entering into that anxious/depressed state that I haven't experienced for ages. Before I went I got myself quite worked up fearing 'what if?' What if what I wasn't sure; there were just these unnameable dark fears weighing me down.

A good splosh through the woods - and, my word, we've had some rain this last month - in my new wellies and I feel reinvigorated. Thankfully.

* * * * * * * * *

Husband has half-stripped the lounge. He's getting on faster than I expected so I need to be decisive in my wallpaper selecting. Fortunately - amazingly! - the wallpaper I was tempted by months ago in Laura Ashley is half-price, as are the matching curtains! The chances of me choosing a wallpaper on sale, let alone curtains too, must have been minute so I feel this must be a sign. Will I still like it when I go and see it tomorrow though?

Xmas? Yeuk!

2012-01-02T16:30:00.003Z

Before Christmas, Chris, my boss, sent me an email about the Xmas lunch. I replied with a one word email: Xmas? In response he sent me this information.

Abbreviations used as Christian symbols have a long history in the church. By the fifteenth century Xmas emerged as a widely used symbol for Christmas. In 1436 Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press with moveable type. In the early days of printing typesetting was done by hand and was very tedious and expensive.
As a result, abbreviations were common. In religious publications, the church began to use the abbreviation C, or simply X, for the word "Christ" to cut down on the cost of the books and pamphlets. From there, the abbreviation moved into general use in newspapers and other publications, and "Xmas" became an accepted way of printing "Christmas" (along with the abbreviations Xian and Xianity).
So there is no grand scheme to dilute Christianity by promoting the use of Xmas instead of Christmas. It is not a modern invention to try to convert Christmas into a secular day, nor is it a device to promote the commercialism of the holiday season. Its origin is thoroughly rooted in the heritage of the Church.
It is simply another way to say Christmas, drawing on a long history of symbolic abbreviations used in the church. As with other abbreviations used in common speech or writing (such as Mr. or etc.), the abbreviation "Xmas" should be pronounced "Christmas" just as if the word were written out in full, rather than
saying "exmas."
Understanding this use of Christian symbolism might help us modern day Xians focus on more important issues of the faith during Advent, and bring a little more peace to the Xmas Season.

Which is all well and good except it wasn't because I considered it a dilution of Christianity or commercialism but simply that it is an aesthetically unpleasing word. And as an English teacher Chris should know better!

But thinking about it, it would only be intelligent Christians (or atheists, dr stu) who would know about the Christian abbreviation (I didn't before this, needless to say) so the use of the word in the secular world could still be a dilution rather a harking back to the old traditions.

And it's ugly.

Don't you have words you don't like?

Oh no I didn't

2012-01-02T16:21:00.000Z

Isn't it fascinating what you forget?
I was just re-reading last January's blog and I discovered we spent last New Year's Eve in Derby where Mother-in-law had been hospitalised. Well, well.
I also thought I'd written about my resolution to be extravagant; turns out that was 2010's resolution.
Doesn't time fly when you're getting old?
Did I live extravagantly? I don't and didn't mean spending lots of money, but rather being extravagant with my time, energy and love. I don't know.
I'm sure there's still room for improvement and it shall be my resolution again this year.

Carry on decorating

2012-01-02T15:55:00.001Z

We've taken down the Christmas decorations because we're decorating the lounge. I'm using the royal we here you understand: Husband is doing all the work. Although I have the most difficult bit: choosing the paint, paper and curtains. We - or maybe I - will go out tomorrow and browse.

Husband said we should get on with it and as we've been saying for the last four years at least that it needs doing I don't want to stand in his way. I've done my bit - undressing the tree - now I'm leaving it to him.

I think it must be time for a cup of tea though ...

You may call me Ma'am

2012-01-02T14:04:00.001Z

Another year, another Honours list and still I'm not made a Queen.
But Husband has been doing some interesting genealogical research the fruits of which I shall share with you when he has completed his reading. For now let me just hint that I am descended from kings, emperors and saints.
Excuse me, I must go and polish my tiara/halo.

Husband knows how to make a girl feel good

2012-01-02T11:24:00.002Z

He looked at me yesterday and said, 'You look terrible.'

Admittedly I did have a cold flannel draped across my forehead at the time but still.

After a drug cocktail administered by Husband I slept reasonably well and am feeling a little better today. (I've stopped the antibiotics.) I am approaching life very tentatively though and doing everything slowly.

I am glad to see the back of December; I've had more infections, coughs and bugs in one month than I've had for years. Still new year, new start.

2011 had its bad times: the death of Mother-in-law, Father-in-law having to go into a home and Husband's hospitalisation. But they're outweighed by the good times: the birth of GrandSon, the news that Daughter is expecting again, and Younger Son's graduation and engagement. And in 2012 we have a new baby and an Italian wedding to look forward to.

Yes, life is good.

Feeling ill?

2012-01-01T10:51:00.000Z

How do you like these wedding cakes? Quite unusual I think!

Sadly we had to leave the wedding party early as I had a splitting headache that carried on through the night. Last time I had a bladder infection, at the beginning of December, it was followed by the strange not-quite-flu-type illness that laid me up for a few days. At the time I wondered if it might be a reaction to the tablets and I'm wondering again today.

At about 3 this morning I had every fatal illness known to Man so in the cold light of day I checked the possible side effects listed in the tablet package. They included aseptic meningitis the symptoms of which are: headache (check), fever (well, I was very hot last night), blah blah (didn't have those), and 'feeling ill'. Feeling ill?! What kind of symptom is that? Surely it's because you're feeling ill that you take the tablets? How do you know if you're feeling ill because you're ill or because of the tablets you're taking to stop you feeling ill?

Anyway I felt a bit better this morning so I took another tablet. If I get a repeat of the stinky headache I'll stop and go back to the doctor.

But a word of advice: if you're thinking of putting a bag of frozen veg on your forehead to ease the pain, make sure it's an unopened pack. I'll be picking green beans and sweet corn out of the back of the sofa for months. Unless George ferrets them out first.

Happy New Year one and all

2012-01-01T10:41:00.002Z

I wish you could smell these hyacinths. They were just bulbs, a present from my uncle, when they arrived in the post a few days before Christmas. Since then it's almost been possible to see them growing as you watch. And the smell fills the kitchen.

A very happy, healthy and blessed 2012 to each one of you. May it be a special year for you.

On the last day of December

2011-12-31T10:22:00.000Z

The last day of December and we still have geraniums in the garden.

I've just been to the chemist to collect an out-of-hours prescription for antibiotics. Let's just say I've been advised to drink plenty of cranberry juice. And we're going to a wedding today! Hey ho.

Ah well, better go and bleach my moustache; I don't want to frighten the bridesmaids.

Being me

2011-12-30T16:29:00.000Z

The good thing about being me is that I don't realise what I've forgotten - until someone tells me. That's the bad thing about being in work; someone usually tells me. The god thing is that life is getting back to normal. I am no longer anticipating it but living it, which is always easier than the anticipation I think.

Another good thing about getting back to normal is that we can watch television - and hear what's being said now. When the children are with us they say, 'Turn the television down. It's too loud!'

And now I am sitting here at the computer next to an almost empty box of chocolates wondering if my dislike of coffee chocolates is greater than my desire to eat another one.

Of course there is always my store of Maltesers in the other room ...

Just a phase?

2011-12-29T14:59:00.000Z

While indulging in a wash-dry-iron bedlinen marathon I find myself becoming a little maudlin. Probably something to do with ironing duvet covers while suffering the indigestiony result of eating 6 cookies this morning but nonetheless ...

I always used to suffer post-Christmas blues but in recent years thought I'd got over it. I don't think it's blues now exactly anyway: I have far too much to enjoy in my life and stuff to anticipate. It's more a sense of realism: accepting that maybe 'Liz is a writer' was just a phase in my life. I'm never going to be a famous author.

There was a period in my life when 'it' was happening for me. Opportunities to write articles and even non-fiction books were coming along easily and regularly. They happened to me rather than me struggling to achieve anything. Now, well, now I blog, I write stuff for prison and Zac's, and I even get paid for the occasional online article.

I love what I write - I mean I love the opportunities and enjoy writing these things, and I know they have their own intrinsic value - and, importantly, that they have sometimes meant a lot to others as well.

I couldn't not blog; my head would surely explode. And the other stuff I write helps me to study and understand the bible better too. But ... I see my novel lying face down on my desk. I'd printed it out to send to a publisher but have been waiting because of a change of editor. GrandDaughter has used pages of it to scribble on. I don't mind that - it's easily printed again - it's just whether there is really any point.

Oh, don't mind me, old gloomyguts! I'll finish ironing soon and my tummy will stop aching and I'll pick myself up and start again.

Maybe I'll go and watch one of the dvds I had for Christmas (most of which, incidentally, were children's cartoons ...)

P.S. I shall cheer myself up by reminding myself that at least I'm not like my Mother-in-law who would have the beds stripped, sheets in the wash and sometimes on the line before we'd even left the premises after staying with them.

Zac's Place carol service, part 2

2011-12-29T14:12:00.000Z

Zac's Place carol service, part 1

2011-12-29T14:11:00.000Z

Now and then

2011-12-29T13:14:00.002Z

My cousin, Carol, and her husband of 50 years, Bob.

Who's crackers?

2011-12-28T13:30:00.004Z

Crackers come in boxes of 6. On 2 occasions I wanted 6 and then 8 crackers thus, by my logic, I needed 1 and a bit boxes twice. So I bought 4 boxes.

Trouble is, I'd probably do the same again.

50 years ago today

2011-12-28T12:54:00.001Z

We're off to my cousin's golden wedding anniversary celebrations this afternoon (5 - 8 pm, very civilised time!). Carol and Bob's was the first wedding at which I was called upon to do my bridesmaiding duties. That's me sitting on the floor on the left as you look at the photo.

Puff-sleeved peach velvet dresses - on probably the coldest day of the year. See the photo below of my great-gran (4th from the left) and her children at the same wedding. Note the fur stoles and thick hats? Yep, that was one cold day.

Of her children only the two youngest, Great-auntie Joan (with eyes closed) and Great-uncle Woodie (peeping over my great-gran) are still alive. Both in their 90s now and will be at the party this afternoon.

I was bridesmaid on two other occasions: to Uncle Woodie's daughter, Sue, and Auntie Joan's son, Spencer. I realise now as I think back that Sue and Spencer both died too young from cancer. Which is a gloomy point at which to leave this post, which should be celebratory.

So I'll finish by looking forward to the party that will be a chance to celebrate 50 years of marriage and family life and say hooray for the enjoyment of the good times and thanks for the strength to get through the bad.

2011-12-28T10:28:00.004Z

It was Fiancée's birthday yesterday so we went out for a meal last night. I called the restaurant to book; I needn't have bothered. There were only 8 people altogether in the large restaurant. The chefs must have been pleased to see us - or maybe not if they'd been hoping to have the night off.

Anyway Younger Son and Fiancée are back off to Paignton today and then, after a long Christmas season - it started 2 weeks ago on 14th December with the arrival of Daughter & Co - it'll be back to normal with just the three of us (Husband, me and George).

It's been a wonderful time, seeing and sharing with all the children, grandchildren and partners. And the celebrations aren't quite over yet ...

Man tin

2011-12-26T19:26:00.002Z

I burst out laughing in the shop when I saw this. I resisted at first but ended up going back and buying it for Husband. It's a good size but - if I have anything to do with it - will be full very quickly!

Christmas desserts

2011-12-26T17:34:00.002Z

Christmas pudding being set alight

The alternative: hazelnut and raspberry meringue

Christmas greetings

2011-12-24T17:43:00.000Z

Sorry I haven't been doing any blog visiting of late but I promise I will catch up in the post-Christmas calm-down.

Hope you all have a fantastic Christmas and a healthy and wonderful 2012.

Santa's reindeer

2011-12-24T17:19:00.005Z

Last Saturday we went to get a Christmas tree and we saw Santa's reindeer! The farm that grows the trees also has the only reindeer herd in Wales. They're smaller than you would expect so it's no wonder Santa needs so many to pull his sleigh.

Christmas crafts

2011-12-24T17:14:00.001Z

No prizes for guessing who's been making spinach pie. I am definitely retaining my title of Messiest Cook in the World. Whatever I make, a good percentage of the ingredients ends up on the floor. I've learned to allow for it now.

GrandDaughter's been staying and after watching Mr Maker make bugs on cbeebies I came up with the idea (patent pending don't you think?) for these reindeer. I was rather proud of myself I have to say. Trouble was that I went to the shop for some googly eyes and ended up spending twenty something pounds on craft stuff.

No, I didn't make this festive tea-cosy, which was my rather lovely birthday present.

I can't help feeling that I've forgotten something major; I seem to have time to spare, time to sit and relax - and blog. Ah well, shops are closed now so whatever it is I've forgotten will have to stay forgotten.

Whoops!

2011-12-19T16:45:00.000Z

I seem to have cut up the wrong debit card.

You see I have 2 debit cards: one for our joint account and one that is mine, all mine. When a new card arrived and Husband gave it to me to sign I assumed it was to replace our joint card. But as I discovered when I tried to get some money out and it refused to recognise my PIN, it wasn't.

I'm going to have to explain this to the bank now.

Not your usual staff Christmas lunch

2011-12-19T16:37:00.000Z

This is the Roundhouse where we were going to have our Christmas lunch but Helen thought it would be more fun to go deeper into the woods.

While Helen was cooking some of us made a den!

It's amazing how much fun grown men can have with a flaccid sausage.

The staff of Linden Church Trust after playing Mob!

Catching up

2011-12-19T16:24:00.003Z

Good grief, it's been nearly a week since I last blogged ... and I find Blogger's gone queer. Ah well, hey ho, I'm sure I'll get used to it. Lots to catch up on but where to start? let's begin at the beginning with the prison carol service.

Minor panic on first night as one of the participants came into the room where the service was being held and had a wobbly. 'I can't do this! Not with all these people!' We talked him into it and he stole the show.

He's a lad from Liverpool with a truly scrumptious Scouse accent and as he was reading lines for Mary's father it added a certain something. In fact as soon as he spoke the audience burst out laughing.

The theme of the carol service was the ripple effect. A lot of the men have been doing a course on restorative justice - thinking about the victim and others affected by your crime - so we carried this on using the birth of Christ as the stone dropped in the water causing ripples. We heard from the shepherd who declared that going to see this newborn baby was more important than his job looking after the sheep, and then from his boss who didn't agree and, in true Alan Sugar style, said, 'You're fired.'

Our Scouser had gained so much confidence by the second night that, in his role as boss, declared, 'You're fired! Now p**** off out of here!'

As one of the 'congregation' said, 'F***ing h***l, you can't use that language in church!'

Not your average church carol service.

We continued on with the ripple theme and heard the story of one of the men who took part in our carol service last year. He's now in another prison but I went to see him the week before and got his story, which he was happy for us to use. I'll put it on my long bits blog if you'd like to read it; it is very moving and hopeful. And even better is the fact that the man who read it introduced it by saying how pleased he was because he could relate to a lot of it and is going through a similar 'conversion'. I don't like the word conversion; it's more like redemption.

Now let's see how I get this new-fangled blogger to post.

Thank you, Katney!

2011-12-13T12:18:00.001Z

A new quilt for a new baby (due February) from Katney. Thank you so much!

And then my straighteners said

2011-12-11T20:31:00.003Z

I could have sworn this morning that my hair straighteners were wishing me 'masseltof' (excuse the spelling).

They've never spoken to me before but perhaps they were just waiting for the right opportunity.

Christmas has begun

2011-12-11T20:15:00.002Z

It started today with our annual Christmas meal out with the in-laws ... in Derby. Three and a half hours each way is a long time to be sitting in a car but it was good to see Father-in-law. He's settling into the home but ... well, it's not his home.

I remembered I hadn't shown you our grotto!
Complete with stag at bay. Now why would you pay £80 when lights wound around a few sticks do just as well?!!
Tomorrow and Tuesday evening it's the prison carol services. We've got quite a few volunteers taking part this year, which is good, but I quite liked it when it was just a couple of lads - as it was on at least two occasions - and we developed a sort of Dunkirk spirit: we can do this! I was very proud of 'my boys'. It's not quite the same this year but I'm sure it will go well. Our Scouser King Herod might well steal the show.

Friday we have our works' Christmas do - more about that later - and on Saturday we're out for a traditional Christmas get-together meal with 'the gang'.

It's a good job I was poorly and off my food last week; the next few weeks will be non-stop eating.

A chill wind

2011-12-09T17:12:00.002Z

I don't work on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday so if the window was to be replaced in my office you might think one of those days would be a good choice for it to be done.

When I arrived in work today, Friday, the entire window and frame was already out. Leaving a dirty great hole.

He was a very nice man and the sun was shining but it was still freezing. And later redolent of glue. Not to mention the difficulty in getting to my desk.

I spent the morning sorting out Christmas baubles and joining in with the quilters' Christmas partying. I did have a go at being arty with a string of red bally stuff but discovered that if I closed my eyes and tossed it randomly on the floor the final effect was about the same.

Then I gave up and came home. Now I'll have to go in tomorrow morning to do the essentials.

And before you ask, no, it wasn't me who arranged it.

P.S. Nigel Slater just promised me the recipe for the perfect pomegranate and Prosecco jelly if I buy the Observer on Sunday. I hope my children don't feel deprived because I've never achieved the perfect (or even considered an ordinary) pomegranate and Prosecco jelly at Christmas. So many undiscovered flaws in my life.

I can recommend

2011-12-08T18:22:00.002Z

The trouble with going to Waterstone's for Christmas presents is that other things inevitably end up in my basket.

Like a copy of The Night before Christmas for GrandSon. Well, he has to have it and there's no point giving it to him for Christmas as it's too late then. So that's justifiable.

The copy of Christmas at Cold Comfort Farm is sort of a Christmas present for me but the logic is the same as previously: I wouldn't want to read it after Christmas. And I've been poorly, y'know. It's a slight misnomer as it's a collection of short stories some loosely associated with Christmas and only one at the farm, but any disquiet I might have felt was dispersed instantly by the very first story, which is a delightful tale in the Miss Pettigrew/ Capture the Castle style. Absolutely charming and just what you want from a Christmas tale.

Things not to do when ...

2011-12-08T08:25:00.004Z

you can't sleep and you feel nauseous.

1) Reminisce about when you fell asleep at the drop of an eyelid and worry if you'll ever sleep again.

2) Think about food.

3) Think about all the things you haven't been able to do this week ... and fret about how you're going to fit them in to your already full next week.

4) Wonder how Facebook can be worth £100 billion dollars and why anyone would Like a company page.

5) Consider the implication of being 'in the world but not of it' and whether you are one more than the other.

6) Compose a blog post in your head.

7) Realise that there are not many middle-aged women who feel the uncontrollable urge to skip while walking around town and wonder - for the first time - if you really are a bit odd.

8) Diagnose yourself using knowledge gleaned from Grey's Anatomy and House.

The secret behind Batman's success

2011-12-07T16:34:00.002Z

After a morning of feeling much improved I've had a relapse.

Still it meant I could watch Ice Age 3 and a brilliant bit of Batman.

Robin: I think that was our closest shave ever, Batman. I was scared.

Batman: I wasn't.

Robin: You weren't. Holy cow, why not Batman?

Batman: Haven't you noticed, Robin, how we always manage to escape from the tightest of situations. Have you ever wondered why that is?

Robin: I guess it's because we're smarter, Batman.

Batman: I like to think it's because our hearts are pure.

Thinking about funerals ...

2011-12-07T10:22:00.003Z

and what people would say. The good thing is that people are always nice at funerals, at least about the deceased. Fortunately it wasn't until this morning that I remembered that Chris and I had, after one particularly 'gooder than Jesus' funeral, resolved to tell the truth at our funerals - whoever went first obviously.

I imagine Chris would mention the time I wiped the Linden computer. Completely. Totally.

In spite of the computer's protestations.

'Are you sure you want to delete?'

'Yes.'

Are you absolutely sure?'

'Yes, I just told you I did; now do it.'

A pause then 'Just let me be clear: you definitely want me to delete this information?'

'YES! Now do it!'

And afterwards, Chris saying, 'Well, we can reload the programs and I assume you kept back-ups of your files.'

'Um.'

'You did keep back-ups?'

'Well, I will do in future!'

I've been poorly

2011-12-07T09:31:00.002Z

I have the occasional sore throat, cough or snuffle and I grumble a lot but I am rarely incapacitated as I've been for the last couple of days. I have been proper poorly.

Some sort of virus I guess. Not bad enough to be flu but enough to stop any activity. I've spent the time on the sofa feeling sorry for myself: I do not like being ill!!!

On the plus side I've sat through a Downton Abbey fest. I missed the television series but Daughter gave me season 1 for Christmas last year and I finally managed to watch it. And I finished The Girl Who Played with Fire so it's not all bad. Except lying on the sofa made me ache by bed time - heart attack type chest pains ache, so I went to bed thinking how inconvenient it would be if I died now just before Christmas. And then I launched into the old familiar 'what would people say at my funeral?' routine. That soon sent me to sleep ...

P.S. Don't watch House if you're feeling poorly: it's amazing how the most innocent of symptoms can mean the most obscure of deadly diseases. The only dilemma is deciding which 'longcomplicatednameillness' you have today.

P.P.S. Husband just came in and said, 'You must be feeling better if you're blogging.'

Getting in the Christmas spirit

2011-12-03T18:23:00.003Z

Now we've passed Husband's birthday (December 1st) we can start concentrating on Christmas. We began this morning by visiting one of the big stores that sells loads of Christmassy stuff. Husband bought some lovely lights for outside - preparing for the reindeer to come ... - and I bought these essential accessories.I am convinced that having grandchildren brings out the latent chav (translation: someone very into bling and tack).

I didn't buy this but was strangely fascinated by the idea of making my own snow.
And today I've discovered Spotify and I'm compiling a playlist of Christmas music. I'm having so much fun! Best title so far is All I Want for Christmas is a Hippopotamus. Mine is a very eclectic mix with Ella in between Santa getting stuck up the chimney, a gospel choir and a wombling Christmas.

I've also started shooting turkeys in the hope that by Christmas I might actually hit one. Tomorrow is 'Make a reindeer day' or maybe that should be 'Try to make a reindeer day'. Or even more likely, 'Fail to make a reindeer day'.

It was all set off by nightmare last night. I dreamed it was 2.00 pm on Christmas Eve and I suddenly realised I'd forgotten to buy a turkey or any vegetables and all the shops had either moved or closed early. The closest thing I could find to a turkey was a blackened shot-riddled thing (guilt for all the turkey shooting I'm doing?)

When I told Husband he said, 'That wasn't a nightmare; that was a memory.' Which is a ridiculous exaggeration. It was midnight the day before Christmas eve that I had us driving around Swansea looking for - and not finding - a turkey.

I used an adaptation of that tale in my first novel and the woman from the Romantic Novelists' Association who critiqued it (and hated it) said that was ridiculous: no woman would ever do that. Huh, shows how much she knows!

Rapidly putting nasty ladies behind me, I'm so excited: can you tell?

Winter draws on

2011-12-02T17:41:00.002Z

I worked different hours today so when I came out this afternoon it was cold, dark, raining and miserable. I got in the car and thought, 'I want to go home and never go out again.'

I quickly decided that might be a bit extreme but a week's hibernation is do-able, don't you think? no? Okay.

This is one of the rare occasions when I wish we had a television in the bedroom. Curling up in bed with some mindless tv or A Wonderful Life is just what the doctor ordered.

Actually the doctor ordered antibiotics but that's another story.

"Fornication!"

2011-11-29T21:57:00.002Z

I'm used to there being no such thing as a usual night at Zac's but to walk through the door and be greeted by 'Fornication!' still managed to surprise me.

Then it was 'Jill, come here.'

I looked around; it was me she was talking to. I obediently did as told.

'What's fornication? Is it the same as adultery?'

'Um, not really.'

'What is it then?'

'Well, having sex.'

'So that American preacher on Friday night was wrong then.'

'I think so.'

'Is it like when you play with yourself?'

'Um, no, that's um ... (big gulp) (chicken out) something else.'

After that beginning demon possession was no big thing.

P.S. I thought I'd better check that I was right and the American evangelist wrong in his use of the word. According to Chambers fornication is sex between two unmarried people but can sometimes be expanded in its use to involve one married person. So we were both sort of right but I was righter.

I've never seen Titanic

2011-11-29T09:21:00.006Z

On Sunday posts began appearing on Facebook saying 'RIP Gary Speed'. Who's Gary Speed I hear you ask; I asked the same thing. It turns out he was the Wales football manager and ex-Wales player. Only 42 he was found hanged at home with no suggestion of foul play. The inquest begins today but suicide as a result of depression is being suggested.

He was a happily married family man doing well in his job, liked and admired by many many people. He appeared on a football show on the Saturday afternoon before he died and seemed as normal. He must have masked his depression well but how deep must it have been for him to take his own life?

I obviously had no idea who he was until yesterday and can't pretend to mourn him in anything other than a 'that is sad for his family and a waste of life' way, and my level of depression bears no comparison with his but maybe I should talk about the experience. I was thinking this yesterday and then last night I went to an event and one of the speakers there mentioned his depression and the reaction it had got. And I decided I would write this post.

I didn't think of it as depression initially; I was just anxious. It was just me being stupid and I needed to pull myself together.

It began when I was a teenager, the first worries assailed me. What would start as a little niggle grew into an obsessive anxiety. And the anxiety itself became greater and greater until it overwhelmed me.

What was worse was that, by this time, I was happily married with young children. My husband had a good job and we had a comfortable home. In short I had it all. What was there to be anxious about? I remember Husband saying that if I didn't have something to worry about I'd invent something.

And that was true. The slightest thing would set me off. I'd get the cold shiver running through me, my stomach would drop and 'what if' would pop into my mind; from there it was downhill. I could tell myself as much as I liked that it was nothing, I was being silly and try and think about something else but my brain was on one track by then and there were no turnings off.

By this time also I was a Christian. That should have helped right? Doesn't the bible tell us not to worry as God has everything in his control? 'Well, yes, but what if ...?' Guilt number 1 (or maybe 2 if you include the fact that I had no reason or right to be miserable).

But I asked for prayer and dear and very lovely people prayed for me. And I felt nothing when they prayed and no different afterwards. Guilt number 3. I must get better - or say I am - otherwise I'm letting everyone and God down. And it must be my fault anyway.

Most of my concerns were about health, either mine or the children's. I'd go to the doctor who'd reassure me and for a time I'd be okay. But the time between panics got shorter and shorter. I tried the doctor again, this time explaining that I can't stop worrying. At first they say, 'Get more exercise. Take up a hobby. You've nothing to worry about.' Eventually one sends me to a counsellor who listens and gives me a relaxation tape.

I do my relaxation exercises religiously every night but never get to the end of the tape as I've fallen asleep. Oh yes, I had no problem relaxing while lying on my bed; it was putting it into practice when walking around Sainsburys when I failed. Going to Sainsburys became something I dreaded; I had to pluck up my courage to go and try to get around before the panic overtook me.

The counsellor gave up on me saying there was nothing more she could suggest.

The film Titanic was in the cinemas around now. Everyone was going and everyone said, 'You've got to see it in the cinema to get the full special effects.' I smiled and made the excuse that Husband wouldn't enjoy it but really I was too scared to go and sit in a cinema in case I had a panic attack.

My life by now was entirely controlled by fear. There was hardly a moment when I wasn't anxious about something irrational. I was gloomy and distant with my family. I asked Husband yesterday what I had been like. He said, 'You were always stressed and miserable.'

I remember standing behind the bathroom door hardly breathing, hiding from something but from what I don't know. I desperately wanted to curl up in bed and stay there.

I couldn't enjoy anything; I couldn't anticipate events with pleasure because 'I might not be here by then.' Honestly I was a right misery!

At last a doctor realised that I was serious when I said my life was controlled by anxiety and fear and prescribed seroxat for me. She said that depression could be caused by a lack of a chemical serotonin in the brain, and suggested I try these tablets to correct that imbalance. (I also had this sort of belief that anxiety wasn't a proper 'illness' whereas depression was, and surely I was just being silly and anxious?)

And, dear readers, if you've managed to stay with me this long, I have to tell you that a tiny little pill changed my life.

Since taking my happy pill I am a different person. No, not different, well, yes, different but actually the person that was inside the shell of fear, the one I was meant to be rather than someone less than that.

Over the years the doctor has suggested on occasion that I try to come off them and I have given it a go but the symptoms have returned and there is no way I am going back there. It seems to me if there was an imbalance in my brain then it's likely to continue. I suppose my brain could right itself but I'm happy with my little pill. And I believe that depression, a chemical imbalance, whatever it is, is just as valid an illness as a more obviously physical one. (There has been in the past - maybe not so much now - an embarrassment in churches about sufferers of a mental illness.) Husband, like thousands of others, has to take a daily thyroxin dose; what difference is there between that and my seroxat?

I realise that my case is far less serious than Gary Speed's or that of many others who suffer silently and invisibly, but I'm so glad I sought help and found it at the right time.

And I try to mention my happy pill sometimes - especially in church situations - because I want to see an end to the shame and the stigma. Christians get depressed too!

By the way, I still need God and call out to him and trust and rely on him; my happy pill hasn't made him redundant. He is the rock that underpins my life. He's also my creator and inventor of serotonin ...

Afternoon tea

2011-11-27T16:37:00.005Z

My friend got married yesterday. Second time for both of them, they wanted a very casual event and decided to have afternoon tea instead of a 'proper' reception and, as they were working to a tight budget, I offered to organise it for them.

I had lots of people making cakes and helping me do sandwiches - which take a surprisingly long time to assemble - and it all turned out fine in the end.
Except my resolution to be good and refrain failed miserably. Well, there were so many things that I just needed to taste to make sure ...

As a result I woke in the middle of the night of the night feeling sick. The thought occurred to me that being sick would get rid of all those bad fatty calories - but then I remembered I hate being sick. Next thing I knew I was waking up three hours later feeling much better. But I'm having a not-eating-much day today to let my tummy relax.

Now these two photos are mainly for Furtheron's benefit. The groom is a musician and has about 20 guitars. After the service he and the bride, who's a saxophonist, and the rest of their band played some jazz and blues, and these are the guitars he used.
He did explain to me what this one was but I've forgotten.

Husband's brilliant ideas

2011-11-24T16:54:00.003Z

A few weeks ago Husband had a brilliant idea. He said, 'We won't put tacky Christmas lights up outside the front of the house; I'll make a grotto around the pond with lights and reindeer drinking and maybe a polar bear and ...'

He was getting carried away; can you tell?

Today he came back from B&Q and said, 'Do you know how much a polar bear costs?! So I've had a brilliant idea. (Another one?) Long threads of outdoor lights are very cheap so you can make some reindeer out of sticks and I'll decoratively wrap them in lights. How about that? Of course they'll have to 3 dimensional.'

Husband thinks I have as much time on my hands as he does. (And that I am capable of making a reindeer out of sticks that looks less like very bad modern art and more like a reindeer.)

Mutter, mutter

2011-11-24T13:39:00.002Z

I've hurt my back. I don't know how that happened. I'm sure it can't be anything to do with helping Husband to carry a great big heavy old television downstairs and out to the car.

As we were struggling down the front steps the rubbish men happened to be passing. One said, 'Do you want a hand with that?'

'No,' says Husband, 'we're fine.'

Mutter, mutter. It's only a little ache; I'm sure I'll be better in time for circuit training tonight.

A bit flat today

2011-11-24T11:23:00.002Z

How pathetic is that chocolate cake? It looks more like a giant cookie.Ah, well, filled with black cherry jam and cream it might just look good enough to fool people.

Postscript

You know the way Google tries to match adverts with what you've written about? It decided an advert for concrete slabs would be most suitable for this post!

The dangers of dog walking, part 3

2011-11-23T12:04:00.002Z

It's amazing how much thinking one brain can do while walking.

'Who is God?'

'If God is God then who is Jesus?'

'How can I tell God is really living in me?'

All fantastic questions but can't really be answered in 5 minutes during a bible study (on another topic) especially when the questioner is buzzing and not listening to any answers.

I was so very glad it was Sean in charge of Zac's last night. We had even more than our fair share of 'different' individuals and there was a constant hum about the place. That was during the study; afterwards it was just sheer noise! I was behind the counter as all the regular tea-makers were away and I had one conversation of which I heard nothing. I did that smile and nod bit quickly adapting it into a shake and tut if the talker looked puzzled at my response. I hope I haven't agreed to anything stupid.

Here's my two-pennoth-worth in answer to the questions.

'Who is God?'

Don't know. God is. That's all that can be said. There are plenty of words that could be used to describe God - father, creator, friend, saviour, comforter etc - but they don't tell you who God is. It's one of those questions we won't have answered until we meet him.

'If God is God who is Jesus?'

Far greater minds than mine have tried to explain the Trinity of God the father, God the son, and God the Holy Spirit. Sean used the analogy of water, steam and ice. all the same but all different. Someone once described it to me as like a woman who is daughter, wife and mother: all the same person but different roles. They're both useful ways of simplifying the Trinity but I don't think either really answers it. Another one of those 'wait and see' questions.

'How can I tell God is really living in me?'

Several people answered this last night by saying, 'You'll feel it. You'll be different. You'll just know.' That isn't my experience. For me it was a decision to have faith and believe; I didn't feel anything different.

There are amazing stories in the bible and from people alive today of the signs of meeting God. That must be fantastic - as long as it's accompanied by faith and a choice. Memories dim and if all a person has when he goes through a difficult time is the faded memory of an experience then he'll find it hard.

I don't deny I'd like to feel it a bit more but my faith remains although sometimes it means clinging on by my fingertips.

But for J who seemed so earnest in her desire last night I pray God that you will give her what she needs and the faith to maintain faith. Save her, Lord.

The dangers of dog walking, part 2

2011-11-23T11:59:00.003Z

Coming back past the lake I spotted a man leaning forward slightly and fiddling with something. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and hoped he was trying to do up his anorak zip but just in case, I began singing loudly, to make him aware of my presence and encourage him to be discreet about whatever it was he was doing.

You see some strange sights in the wood.

Husband was telling me about something that happened when he was walking George and Holly in the woods over the weekend.

'Both dogs stopped suddenly and stared into the bushes. Then Holly came belting back to me, whimpering, and with her tail between her legs. George meanwhile rushed into the bushes, snarling and growling.'

'George did?!'

'Yes.'

'That rules out plastic carrier bags and cardboard boxes then.'

Husband never did find out the secret of what was in the bushes.

The dangers of dog walking, part 1

2011-11-23T11:46:00.003Z

Husband has gone to Derby to visit his dad so I walked George on my own this morning and that means I had plenty of time to compose blog posts, so wait for it.

Where to begin?

In prison yesterday afternoon for carol service preparation. Late again I rushed to get a car park ticket. Now bags have to be in lockers so i try to manage without one but that means stuffing papers, pens, notebook, glasses case, purse, passport and keys all in a manila folder, which just about works except when you're rushing.

The parking ticket was one of those that comes in 2 bits and as I was struggling to get it stuck on the window a bit - the important bit - blew away. Picture me chasing a little piece of paper around the car park scattering glasses, keys, papers on the floor in the process.

Sometimes I think I'm a walking ... disaster is to strong a word ... calamity.

Which reminded me that Nitwit has written about Calamity Jane. Did you know she was a real person? Who had a thing for Wild Bill Hickock?

Which led me to fairtrade. Yes, I know that's a big leap and, no, I have no idea how I got there. I put it down to having a creative brain. What others call 'different'.

My brother-in-law-in-law dismisses fairtrade and organic produce as 'a con' and 'a marketing ploy'.

I buy fairtrade tea, coffee and chocolate because they're easy to get in Sainsburys. I buy some organic produce but I'm not consistent. It usually depends on whether I've been lectured recently by Husband about the need to live thriftily.

But it occurred to me that fairtrade and organic isn't expensive; it's the other produce that is cheap. And the reason it's cheap is because it's covered in chemicals and made by slave labour. Yes, I know that's a gross exaggeration (Yay! I remembered how to spell exaggeration!) but no worse than generalising by saying fairtrade is a marketing ploy. You get what you pay for usually.

Now what was next on my mind?

"Escaping? Moi?"

2011-11-22T12:21:00.003Z

"I mean, really, do I look as if I'm trying to escape?""Um, yes. You're outside the fence,"
"Nonsense, I'm just sniffing the air."
He wouldn't move while I was waiting so I had to go back inside and let him complete his break for freedom and then I was able to lure him back in with a treat. Easily bought, George.

Oh bottom!

2011-11-21T17:13:00.003Z

I ordered a number of presents from Early Learning Centre last week, some for grandchildren for Christmas and one big one for GrandDaughter's birthday to be given to her on Saturday at the party. On Thursday we arrived home from Devon to find we'd missed a parcel delivery and when Husband phoned they said they couldn't bring it again until Tuesday.

The next day, Friday, another parcel arrived. Written on the side in large letters it said WOODEN GARAGE; I didn't bother opening it as I could see it wasn't GrandDaughter's birthday present. Nothing came on Saturday so I assumed GrandDaughter's main birthday present wouldn't get to us in time and gave her some of her smaller intended Christmas presents in its place.

Younger Son was in a similar position as the present he'd ordered hadn't arrived either.

Today, Monday, more parcels arrived for me. After opening them I was a little confused and thought I'd better check the parcel that arrived last week claiming to be a WOODEN GARAGE.

You know what I'm going to say, don't you?

Inside the box so clearly marked WOODEN GARAGE was GrandDaughter's main birthday present - not a WOODEN GARAGE at all. And now, finally, it occurs to me that I didn't actually order a garage, wooden or otherwise.

I would like to put the blame on Early Learning Centre for misleading information but can't help thinking that, maybe, just maybe, it's partly my fault ...

Was it the Straw Man who sang, 'If I only had a brain'?

A late November daisy

2011-11-21T16:53:00.000Z

Remembering Mutley's howling monkeys

2011-11-21T16:17:00.002Z

Out of the blue this morning I thought about Mutley's radioactive howling monkeys ... and I smiled.

I hope I leave a legacy of smiles.

I mean, it would be good to leave a million pound legacy but that's not going to happen so smiles and laughter would be the next best thing.

The lady who's my partner in circuit training (we're the two old dears slowing everyone down) was telling me that she gives each of her grandchildren a new decoration for their Christmas tree each year - have I told you this already? It sounds familiar - and that they can remember each occasion. I thought this was a lovely idea so bought decorations this year for GrandDaughter and GrandSon and gave them to them this last weekend.

I explained to my children the thinking behind it and said, 'So when I'm dead they can remember their old granny each time they look at the decoration.'

Elder Son exclaimed, 'You don't think we'll be putting these up when you're dead, do you?'

I've just thought: I'd assumed he meant because it would be too upsetting but maybe he meant they're so hideous we'll be throwing them away as soon as possible. (But they're not hideous so it can't be that.) (I hope.)

I'm doing my best to make sure my grandchildren will remember me: my dancing along to 'Everybody wants to be a cat' while playing an imaginary trombone/guitar/piano was fairly memorable. And raised comments along the lines of 'Please tell me I'm not really related to you.'

Walking back to podginess

2011-11-21T15:54:00.003Z

I've put on half a stone since I lost weight so need to get my eating back under control. So today I'm starting my two-week kick-start programme again.

It's been hard with lots of celebrations and eating and chocolate and ... tonight I've resolved to allow myself only 1 chocolate after dinner. Can I do it? It will take tremendous will power. By lunchtime when I was driving home I was already thinking, 'Surely two wouldn't hurt?' I had to slap my own wrist.

'That's the kind of thinking that has made you put on half a pound, my girl!'

I'm still well within the healthy weight for my age, sex, height, hair colour but with Christmas pounding down towards us it could be dodgy. I don't want to slip slid away into podginess.

Poops, I've depressed myself now. And I have a hard circuit to look forward to this evening as well. Big sighs.

For my little almost-English boy

2011-11-20T17:34:00.002Z

I wrote a prayer for my darling GrandSon ages ago but it's taken me until now to write it out neatly (-ish) on teddy-shaped card.

It begins like this:

For my little almost-English boy

May you grow strong in body and mind.

May you abound in energy and enthusiasm.

May you sleep at peace with the world and may your dreams be limited only by your imagination.

May you stretch out your hand and reach for the trees and the sky, for rainbows and shooting stars.

May you walk the path God has laid before you, your eyes fixed on him.

(Continued here.)

Fabulous fungi

2011-11-20T17:28:00.006Z

I spotted all these fungi in the woods of Killerton estate in Devon last week. Unfortunately I know nothing about mushrooms except that some are deadly. I tried googling for images but that wasn't a lot of use. I got as far as ascertaining that the first one might be the common funnel mushroom or the brown beech or ... something else.

Any fungiperts out there who can identify any of these? The last two are probably the same; I just included the first example because it was huge!

Wonderful weekend

2011-11-20T17:03:00.002Z

We gathered this weekend to celebrate GrandDaughter's 2nd birthday (which isn't for a few days yet).With the camera set to take a photo automatically this was the best we could manage with the dogs who were co-operating even less than GrandDaughter! (Notice Daughter's and GrandDaughter's matching Christmas jumpers, knitted by Nanna - definitely not me who can't knit for toffee!)It was wonderful to have everyone here together although I fear Younger Son and Fiancée could have got fed up of baby eating, sleeping and poo-ing discussions.

Now the only problem is that someone has to eat all the leftover party food ...

Panto in 3D!

2011-11-18T16:17:00.003Z

Little Jimmy Osmond is the star of Swansea's panto this year. (Yes, we get all the big names down here.) I was still not too bothered about going until I found out that Sean's daughter will be dancing in the show. And, and this was the clincher: there will be special 3D effects!

I rush to tell Husband, 'The panto's got 3D; we'll have to go!'

He looks at me in that way he does. 'It's live theatre,' he says.

'Yes, I know,' I say. Does he think I'm an idiot or something? 'But they've got 3D!'

'It's live theatre,' he repeats slowly. 'Think about what you're saying.'

I'm still going ... (which means he has to too.)

My early morning adventure courtesy of George

2011-11-18T16:05:00.003Z

All the children are home this weekend for GrandDaughter's 2nd birthday party so I decide to get up early this morning so I can go to work early and leave work early. I feed George and then potter about while he's eating.

Then it occurs to me that George has been outside a long time. Regular readers won't need telling what's happened: some things are as inevitable as finishing a box of Cadbury's Fingers in one go. Yes, he'd done a runner.

I leap into Minni and drive around to the adventure playground where I meet an early-rising friend. She hasn't seen George so I carry on patrolling his favourite routes. I see no sign of him - but I do scrape the side of Minni while looking for him rather than where I was going.

I get home and Husband tells me we've had a phone call: George is in a house in the road behind. I grab his lead and hurry off there.

When I arrive I see George looking out of the window quite unconcerned by his abduction. The couple tell me they spotted him walking towards the main road but they were able to catch him when he stopped to eat the contents of a rubbish bin. Since being in their house he has eaten 3 bowlfuls of their dogs' food.

And I assume it's for this reason that one of their dogs, who is standing behind me barking, decides to bite my bottom.

It seems churlish to complain when they've been so kind as to rescue George so I continue smiling, thanking and apologising in equal measures, before dragging George home.

And it's still only 8.15.

Get stirring

2011-11-14T17:43:00.005Z

It wasn't Stir Up Sunday* but I made my Christmas puddings nevertheless.

Of course when I started I discovered that I didn't have everything I needed so I improvised. I used ground almonds instead of chopped and then added extra chopped mixed nuts as well. No mixed peel so in went apricots. Not enough brandy so it had to be Cointreau. ('You used Cointreau?!!' Husband was not amused. 'I like to drink that!') And I added dates just for fun.

The fish kettle was put to use.
The finished products.
*The last Sunday before Advent is Stir-Up Sunday, the day when Christmas puddings are traditionally made. The name comes from the words of the prayer for the day, 'Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people.' (From the Book of Common Prayer, 1549) This year it's on 20th November.

It's traditional for all members of the family to have a stir and make a wish so I made Husband do his bit.