Meet and greet: family through the eyes of a 3 year old

I was feeling like a kindly sort of auntie when I let my three year old great-nephew have a go with my new (yes, NEW) camera. What kind of a nut am I?

You see, he asked so sweetly. And I do think small boys need encouragement with sweetness. Before you know it, they've been rough and tumbled into right little toughies. So until he shows signs of taking electrical goods apart, I'm going to carry on letting him use the camera.

Of course, I was never more than an arms length away from Paparazzi Boy. That might have been asking for trouble.

Nearly all the photos were perfectly composed. In fact, just like this one. Meet the Wonder Dog. This is my sister in law's long haired dachsund. Initially a bit jumpy around the mass of children, but soon exhausted by their boundless energy.

What a snuffly cutie she is. I know what you are thinking. How does my sister in law let her dog on the sofa and still keep it pristine in its creamy beigeness? Sorry - haven't a clue. Must be something called 'cleaning', but I wasn't paying that much attention to the detail.

Next up, a photo of my other sister in law (doesn't she look uptight? don't worry, looks are very decieving) and my eight year old great-nephew. I think Paparazzi boy was quite taken with Donald.
Next, was an irresistable shot of Great Neice V's dress. This shot makes me wonder what sort of photos children with attention deficit disorders or autism might choose take...
How could I not show you this photo of my brother in law. Is Paparazzi Boy transfixed by the beard, d'yuh think?
Finally, Paparazzi Boy's big sister FAB got hold of the camera. Aged five, she too took many shots but she had a great muse. Great Neice V likes to pose and she knows how to make herself look very fabulous.
Oops sorry. Did that make you jump?

For more meet and greets, go to Natural Mummy - sorry it's a bit late for Monday!

Sings like an angel

I'm listening to Working Mum singing on BBC4.

Amazing Grace. Beautiful.

Hutstock

This week saw the inaugural Hutstock take place. All of 5o yards from the house and organised by Recaro's neice this was not a party to miss. Peaches was going to hang out with her West Country cousins and we were going to listen to acoustic music.

One of the advantages of being with a small child, is that you can sit very close to the action.
Her cousin, FAB, has a thing for salted snacks. In fact if any packets of crisps weren't properly supervised, she'd find them and appropriate them for her own use. She took Peaches under her wing and enlightened her to the joys of cream chees Pringles. Fortunately people wised up to FAB's ways pretty quickly so the supply wasn't too free flowing.
The main event was Nirvanarama. Recaro's niece is the blondie on the left. This was so much fun. This bunch of mothers made familiar songs all their own. I'll post some videos on youtube when I get the chance so that you can hear them for yourself.
Here's the view from the Hutstock main event stage.
There are plans to make Hutstock an annual event. Woohoo. Evening events close to home are what I like.

Daring Bakers: for my bro

Here's a slice of this month's Daring Baker's challenge; apple and gooseberry danish. This post is dedicated to my brother who thinks that I lie when I say I can't bake. He could have a point.

It was quite a challenge. The pastry had to be rolled, folded and turned like puff pastry, before being finally rolled and cut ready for braiding...

After prooving, it puffed up into a massive plait - with enough spare to make pain au raisin.
So tasty, only four pain au raisins survived for the photo.
Here's the braid straight out of the oven. This time I used the fan setting properly, not just fan assisted. The oven baked the braid evenly. I felt quite professional.
Finally some icing - because that's how I like my danish. You'll notice only three pain au raisins by now.
This was a huge challenge - yet again, I wouldn't have attempted it without the Daring Bakers. Thanks guys.

Here come the rellies - just in time for dessert. Yummitty.

Window shopping: Bond Street and Bruton Street

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

We've not been shopping for a while. So hold on to your hats, grab your wallet and lets go. There's even a sale along the way. By the way, this post is dedicated to my ever-so stylish sister-in-law in Melbourne.

Stella McCartney
I like to imagine that Stella is bonkers, but I can't deny that she sells lovely clothes. And she always gives good window display. Daytime through to evening and with such pretty shoes. (I think lots of shoes are pretty, even if I wouldn't/couldn't wear them myself.

Matthew Williamson

I think he and Stella have a competitive window thing going. Creatively at least this week, he's winning. I'm a bit concerned however that the king of summer dresses is only good for skinny young girls.

Kenzo
I don't like fascinators, but it's a pretty dress. She should really clean up those fridge magnets though. They are taking over the house.

Dolce and Gabbana
It's an interesting trick. The window looks busy and exciting. But pause a moment and look at the clothes. Pretty ordinary. Not so special this week.

Miu Miu

Has an uncanny knack for cute items. There's something strangely desirable about the fluffy pink jacket even if I know in my heart that it would not look quite so lush on me.

Emporio Armani
He he. Peach satin on the sale rail. Hardly a surprise there.

Jigsaw

So jolly, so Wimbledon. I love their window displays - they really make the most of their wind machine to get the skirts fluttering. On a very positive note, this is the most affordable shop of them all.

There you go - that's your lot. Now you know what all the yummy mummies in Mayfair will be wearing this season; peachy little summer dresses with pink fluffy jackets fluttering in the wind.

Thursday thirteen: favourite things in no particular order

1. Pony tails
2. New shoes
3. Slightly older blonde girls like cousin V and the fabulous Sophie
4. Stickers
5. Teletubbies
6. Jaffa cakes
7. Satsumas
8. Sitting on Recaro's side of the bed
9. Wet wipes
10. Wellington boots
11. Ice cream
    
12. Pink duck
13. Jabbing a finger into a pot of Vaseline
    

How do you solve a problem like Mugabe?

Two serious posts in a row. I don't know what's come over me, but I'm on my soapbox and noone is getting between me and the 'publish post' button.

First of all Zimbabwe;

In my cosy western life, I sit by and do nothing while people are being beaten up, raped, attacked, turfed out of their homes and starved. I sit on my sofa (comfy), watch the news (wide screen) and read the internet (broadband) and feel as in touch or not as I like with world affairs. If I get cross at my country's politicians, I can use my vote. Or not. It doesn't matter too much - no one will beat me up, sue me, try me for treason, maim or molest me for it.

Meanwhile, Mugabe and his henchmen get up to all sorts of nasty shit and there's very little it seems anyone can do to touch him. Sanctions don't affect him - they are just more grist to his anti-colonialist mill. Instead sanctions just makes life so much harder for his countrymen.

Before Morgan Tsvangirai pulled out of the election run-off, I've been staggered at reports I've heard of Zimbabweans being beaten up, but still determined to vote for the MDC - because that's the only way they had left to change their lives. Now they don't even have that.

Not to say that I blame Tsvangirai for pulling out. He's probably saved a lot of lives and limbs by doing that. Without a meaningful number of UN observers across the country, it would have been a truly bloody election campaign.

What this post is about is not staying silent and not accepting. I want to find ways to challenge the UK's politicians to find other ways to pressure Mugabe into stepping down or holding free and fair elections. I'm also trying to find which charities are active in Zimbabwe and finding out what can usefully be done to support them.

I want to form an opinion on sanctions - if they really aren't working, is there any value in overturning them and ploughing food, products and other resources into the country so as to improve the lives of as many people as possible. Would this send a message of support to the Zimbabwe people and support them in demanding free and fair elections?

If you've got any useful links in this respect, please pass them on.

Second - a very exciting update on equality in the UK;

Sarah over at Your daughter is obsessed with meat and produce is cross at Nancy Pelosi for acknowledging but failing to challenge sexual discrimination. Hilary faced sexual discrimination from the press during her campaign but that 'comes with the territory'. It is disappointing when influential women fail to challenge the discrimination they see around them.

So let's hear a big round of applause for ... Harriet Harman.

Today the Equality Minister unveiled details of the new Equalities Bill which would demand that public sector organisations and the private sector businesses that supply them, publish details of the gender pay gap.

By lifting the lid on the pay gap, it will become clear just where women are being undervalued and give them the opportunityt to challenge inequalities where they find them.

Wow. Wow. And wow again. This is the stuff of Icelandic dreams. It is the kind of legislation that actually tackles institutionalised discrimination.

There's other stuff in the bill about tackling ageism and positive discrimination for women and minorities which businesses can choose in invoke if they wish to change the profile of their otherwise white/male workforce or board rooms.

Interestingly, the comments on the BBC website are all very anti this Bill. They seem to persist in missing the point about tackling entrenched discriminatory attitudes. Also they think that the Bill would enable a white male to be passed over in favour of a less able women or minority candidate. That's not the idea. Best candidates should be chosen, it's only when there are equally good candidates could an employer consider choosing a candidate so as to improve the diversity of its workforce.

Listening to the Today programme this morning, it was great to hear the following exchange;

presenter: The Daily Mail reports this Bill makes women more equal than men.
Harriet: Ha ha. Chance would be a fine thing.

There's been progress made in equal opportunities since the second world war, but how refreshing to see that there's a committment to doing even more.

We are all worth it

News that women in Malaysia are being advised to not wear lipstick or 'noisy' - that is high heeled - shoes so as to avoid rape is the kind of story that really makes me cross.

Where's the outrage that some men think it's okay and acceptable to bully, harass and demean women? By men - I mean the men that came up with the ridiculous assumption that wearing lipstick or high heels makes rape any more likely.

Perhaps there should be a campaign challenging men to think about whether their late night walks are really necessary. Or whether it's appropriate for them to approach women they don't know. Or whether a woman really did mean 'would you like a coffee?' instead of 'hey, let's have wild monkey sex because we've known each other for years/five minutes*'. After all, this could be construed as aggressive behaviour and they will put themselves at risk of being confused with every other rapist out there. *delete as applicable.

In the event anyone is incorrectly accused of harrassing or attacking women, they could be told, 'He was asking for it. He was behaving in an unusually aggressive and lewd manner. I've no idea what he thought he was doing walking about so late at night, but it certainly seemed suspicious.'

Of course, you might think I'm being overly harsh on all those decent men out there. There are a lot of them.

But don't you see? These stupid, stupid lipstick bans and assumptions that what women might wear mean that 'she was asking for it' demean every woman and girl. We mustn't blame the victims and we mustn't let abusers and potential abusers think that their actions are anyone else's responsibility but their own.

Grrr. Today I shall be wearing Diva by Mac and my shoes shall go clickety clack.

Silent... but hands free

In the good old days...

Can you imagine how much it easier it might be to take toddlers to a place of worship if they all had family pews like this?

This is Graveney church and it still has the original, boxed pews in place. So you could pack your whole family in, shut the door and stop them from rushing up and down the aisles and round the back of the altar.
Of course, there's nothing to stop your child from screaming blue murder during the service, but at least noone could be entirely sure if its your child making the noise. I'd enjoy saying things in a loud whisper, like 'How terrible. I hope all that noise doesn't upset our darling, quiet Peaches.'

This church is in the countryside between Whitstable and Faversham. We took Peaches and our great-niece V along to its open day last Saturday. V was also very taken with the pews, but she saw them as an opportunity for nap more than a play.

After getting all the joy possible out of the boxed pews, we settled the girls at a couple of old school desks. While Peaches scribbled, V wrote a story. It was fantastic - all about Peaches being a clever little girl who could 'walk, tork (sic) and run', who went to a 'cherch' with her friend V and then went home. 'The end'.I was very impressed with the story telling. Would you have pointed out the mistakes? I felt it was more appropriate to be encouraging. If it was Peaches and we were at home, I might have said something, but I didn't want to rain on V's very fabulous parade.

Then we went for a romp around the graveyard. Indulge me while I point out Peaches' knitted smock - made by her babysitter, Lindiloo. I love it. A very groovy colour and in a chunky, but silky yarn. There's also a rounded patch pocket on the left hand side. Very handy for distracting Peaches with pebbles and bits and pieces, especially when she'd otherwise be trying to run out on to a road.
Later that afternoon, Recaro gave Peaches a strawberry ice cream. I've now got a major handwash challenge ahead of me since most of that went down her top. Ah well, summers are made for ice cream.

Finally, this churchyard is so traditional there really are graves where the dead are pushing up the daisies.

This is exactly the kind of shot I wanted to take when I got my new camera. I have a feeling you'll see a lot of flower photos from now on.

Week Seven: will it be bikini heaven or hell?

Week one *** Week two *** Week three *** Week four***Week five***Week six

Two weeks till my fantastic Greek holiday and I've still not selected the bikini. This is a mistake. Two years ago I left the choice of bikini until the airport. Did I say 'choice'? Ha. Those shops are just waiting for suckers like me to arrive in a panic and grab the nearest misfitting, grossly coloured 'kini left on the rail.

Clearly I need to ask for help. Where did you last buy one of those miracle bikinis that turned you into a windsurfing, rock Goddess? You know, one of those two piece confections that hid the cellulite, exposed womanly curves, beautifully supported your breasts and revealed a somehow flatter tighter tummy? If it could possibly give me glossy smooth hair too, that would be just dandy.

Pre-Peaches holiday mode. Mind you, bikini still didn't fit right.

On the other hand, can you direct me to any swimwear websites selling bikinis with proper cup sizes? So far I've found Lands End... but wanted something a little sassier.

At this point you may be wondering what's happening with the Strangely Lush Fitness Plan. It's on the final countdown. I'm still intending to;

• run (just got back from my 25 minute lunchtime run. Yay.)
  


• drink more water (am drinking some now. Double yay.)
  


• keep doing evening yoga (huh?)
  


• avoid Peaches' snacks (double huh?)
  


• eat slower (am putting sarnie down between bites. Yay again.)


• avoid using the car (much assisted by the credit crunch.)
  

Since doing the Race for Life, I'm feeling worthy, but a little less motivated. To keep me going to my holiday, perhaps you would also remind me what it feels like to be on a beach surrounded by nubile lasses who've not yet had a babe and have no idea (and don't care) what havoc pregnancy and breastfeeding can wreck on a 37 year old body.

One strangely lush runner: the photos

WARNING: This post is going to ramble off in several directions, but if you can stick with it, I promise you some embarrassing photos at the end...

The weekend was action packed.

Almost every weekend is action packed because I begin with the premise that weekends are about doing nothing apart from watching old movies, eating chocolate and sipping from an elegant glass of wine.

Back in the real world, I make a great to do out of the little moments of fun.

Such as getting up early to go to church after a late night spent celebrating our friends' wedding on midsummer night.

What would seem like a drag to many, we turned into a triumph of get up and go energy. We will squeeze an adventure into every moment of the day, even if Recaro is slightly hungover.

It had been Peaches' first wedding and I'm proud to say she could have danced all night apart from when she fell asleep at 10 o'clock.

Bright eyed and bushy tailed (Peaches' at least) we ran around on Tankerton Slopes for a while. Recaro sat down, hiding tired eyes behind his sunglasses.

I had no idea until I down loaded the photos that the sky had looked so ominous.

We (Peaches and me, that is) were having a great time running in and out of the beach huts. The huts are on quite a steep slope. Now and then the small girl would run out of control. Very little house on the prairie.

After a light breakfast for me and a cooked breakfast for Recaro at Tea & Times, we raced off to Planet Thanet - as that little corner of England is desparagingly known - to the charity race.

Peaches had already had her breakfast in church - it's the foolproof way of getting her through the service. Some of you might think 'eating is cheating' but until all churches are like Graveney (see future post...) this is the way forward.

At the race, there was supposed to be a warm up. But the wind blew the sound the wrong way and the music cut out every few minutes. Since the music was provided by Invicta FM, the local radio station, I thought that was a wee bit embarrassing.

Talking of embarrassing, I'm now getting round to showing you the race photos.

Here's the before...








And here's where I get going. Don't you love that ponytail flying out behind me. Makes me look super fast.

This is me on the home straight. Yes, my trousers are a little too tight so on this occasion, I believe it's true that my bum does make my bum look big. And you might also notice that my feet aren't kicking quite so high off the ground as they were at the beginning.
Naturally, I was delighted to have finished. At least I didn't need dragging away from the finishing line like the lady behind me. She looks wrecked.
On that cheery note, we all went off for lunch at my mother in laws. (Yes I did shower and change. I'm house-trained like that). And in the afternoon, Recaro and I sunbathed and chatted in the back garden while Peaches slept for several hours.

It was an early night for everyone. I think a 5km run and lunch with one's mother-in-law is an exhausting combination.

Does my bum look big in this?

How do you like my new look? I like to think of it as fresh and classic - while bringing a whole new column into play. I was hoping to find something I liked in blue, but they didn't have my size and if the cut's not right... well, it just doesn't get to leave the house.

It's going to take a little while to see if this what effect this might have on my blog. It's a freebie outfit and like all bargains - it might not work out to be as good value as I originally hoped.

One of the implications was that I had to recreate my widgets. It sounds painful, but it wasn't as difficult as I feared.

Aside from any new creative ideas I have under consideration, I need to update my blogroll. This is something of an opportunity for any stalkers or new visitors. I'm going to be refreshing my list and adding a few new blogs that I've been reading lately. If you'd like me to add you to the list, please delurk and direct me to your words of wit, charm and wisdom.

If you could let me know what you think that would be great. I'd hate to think that this new look would scare the horses or that I'm walking about with my skirt tucked into the back of my knickers.

One strangely lush runner is pink with pride

The news in brief, is that I ran 5km in about half an hour. I am a very happy as well as strangely lush runner.

I found the experience very inspiring. It's good to know that I can run among a crowd of people - though I'm sure at the starting line, women are less pushy than a mixed or male group of runners.

Plenty of people stopped and started, walked and strolled. I kept to my pace and ran the whole way round. The route was pretty flat, though by the end of the run my eyes were really itchy. A touch of hayfever wasn't helped by the rural route.

There will be photos - I started loading these at home, but left the house without remembering to hit the 'Done' button. Don't worry though - you WILL get to see how pink I went. I did think about you guys as I ran around, thank you for all your encouragement.

Oh - and if in doubt, I'm still happy to receive donations. I've got a few more coming in from work (off-line) so who knows, I might yet make that target.

See that? I made the target... and still counting. The company sponsored me £30 and other colleagues are chipping in. Very heartwarming.

Mad bad graffiti

Strange knitted graffiti has started showing up around town.





I blame these people.

I hope it doesn't start happening where you live. Those knitters are dangerous subversives and should be stopped.

Head to head

Oh Mommy at Classy Chaos put out a photo challenge for a photo over the top of your child's head. This is Peaches with her oldest friend, Son of Guru.

Moments later, Peaches was grabbing the crayons off of Son of Guru and he was snatching at the paper. But I was the winner, after all I captured the moment of peaceful companionship and they can't take that away from me...

Friday's French fringe

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek
It being a frugal kind of Friday we have already swopped Recaro's Daily Torygraph voucher for a Guardian newspaper. There aren't many newsagents that'll do this - so we treasure the one that will accept the vouchers and swop them for the paper I prefer to read.

I've also had our incredibly busy, multi-tasking, knitting, babysitting neighbour cut Peaches' hair. She does this as a freebie partly because we pay for her to knit funky little girl dresses and to babysit, but mostly because she thinks Peaches' is a funny and sweet little girl. I didn't exactly have to beg for her to do the deed.

The cut was all about a sassy little French fringe at the front and lots of baby curls at the back. This would get her ready for our holiday in a couple of weeks' time.

My new camera doesn't make it any easier to take a photo of the girl when she's on the move. Nearly all the shots were out of focus - I imagine it's hard for any camera to deal with refocusing when the subject is rushing straight towards the lens.

Downloading just out of focus photos isn't only disappointing, it's a little unsettling. I still feel a bit blurry.

Does street art make my local boozer strangely fashionable?

If I went to a groovy bar, would that make me groovy? Well, duh, no. I'm your regular, slightly square, always geeky, wishes-she-were-trendy mum. I'm so geeky I use the word trendy.

However, I am street enough to go to The Fountain. My first experience of this bar was to walk past its open door, only to see a bar stool being thrown the full length of the room.

Then it changed hands. It got hip and cool, in a back street bar kind of way. It has a whole back story courtesy of The Tankerton Arms - but you don't need to know how unutterably fantastic that place was. For a start it's now a block of flats... too sad.

The Fountain is a bit grungy, but it's always good for a laugh and a chat. It's got graffiti on the walls.
It has lots of people wearing flip flops. Some with dirty toes, some with HUGE spaces between their toes and some are just pretty with gold nail varnish.
Then there's more graffiti on the walls.
And Recaro loves it. See him sitting in the VIP area with all his mates. He's having the best time. This is where he likes to go at 4pm on Saturday afternoons. I can hardly object - it's obvious why it means so much to him.

Much as I may mock, this place is the main reason I book babysitters. How many blogs do you read that flit between champagne bars and backstreet boozers? Oh sorry. You weren't looking for that kind of mum-blog, were you?

Sisterhood of the strangely lush runner

There are so many fabulous women out there and I'm going to mention just a few them having an impact on my life right now.

• Top of my list is ScrappySue for being so fabulously supportive of my charity run. I dare you to read her most fabulous post and not come back and sponsor me. I promise you'll feel rotten about yourself for a good five minutes if you don't.

'Hellboy' Peaches has got her big hand out for sponsorship.

• There's also Bossy - who gives me yet another uplifting, celebrity-studded and humbling reason for getting that run done on Sunday.

• And there's also a lovely work colleague who's all into running and has given me a load of very effective hip stretching exercises to make sure I don't mess my achy hips up. I love those moments when I finally ask for help - and I get told all the useful stuff I really need to know. She doesn't blog, but that's not going to stop me saying how cool she is.

So in the spirit of bloggy sistership I'll be doing that pesky run for all of you and if you happen to sponsor me, that'll be very lovely of you too.

What Recaro did next

Damn. Recaro's given me another reason for paid-working.

Today was my London-day - so he gets to cook. Usually he cooks spaghetti bolognese because it's the traditional meal of choice for all British men.

Today he excelled himself. He got Peaches to the childminder, he worked at home on all sorts of housey stuff - including fixing my email which is obviously very important - collected Peaches who was very exhausted at the end of the day, bathed her and got her to bed - and then cooked up lamb shanks in a tomatoey-carrotty gravy. With Thanet new potatoes.

It was tasty.

I made dessert. To be frank, this was the very least I could do. I present to you.... Greek yoghurt and honey.
Yummitty-easy.

I had to tell you about it because, I did not cook it. I believe this will reassure this woman that I am not mental.

By the way, it's time I told you a dirty joke;

As I serve up the yoghurt and honey, it occurs to me to take a photo of it. Recaro says, 'Would you like a small spoon?' He always ask this. Small spoons make desserts last longer and sweeter.

'Yes please. But don't stick it in. I want to take a photo of it first.'

'Cheeeeeky.'

That's what passes for classy humour in these parts.

Week 6 - running to the starting line

Week one *** Week two *** Week three *** Week four***Week five

My target is bikini fitness, but I have an interim target of the 5k Race for Life this Sunday. This is exciting. This week I will be...

• First; calming down. Not running too much and doing lots of stretching. I've got a bit of an ache at the top of my hips and don't want anything to come between me and the finishing line.
  
• Second; planning my carbo-loading for Saturday evening. He he. Training for a bikini AND carbo loading. Yet one more strangely lush paradox brought to you by the strangely lush fitness plan.
  
• Third; plucking up courage to ask more people at work for sponsorship. Eek. That seems hard. You know - they are real people and everything and might not want to fork out.
  

Every now and then I read posts about people who plan to be optimistic this summer and who think we should blog to make this world a better place. It'll be a missed opportunity if I don't raise some more cash for Cancer Research. Watch this space - or more importantly, watch the donation widget on the left. You might yet see me reach (exceed?) my target.

At this point in the plan I'm relatively pleased with how things are going. I'm doing bits of yoga, sit ups and stretches whenever I get the chance and I'm running regularly. Pouring water into a glass and drinking it doesn't seem to be the onerous chore that I thought it was. On the other hand, Peaches' snacks are still not completely safe from my grabby paws and weekend socialising (that's my wine-drinking euphimism) is no better than it ever was.

Signing up for the run has kept me motivated and after that, I'll only have two more weeks of stomach crunches till I strut my stuff - exaggerating for literary effect - on a Greek beach. The best part of all this has been the running. Getting out at lunchtime, being in the sunshine and feeling a little more comfortable in (and out of) my clothes has helped me see the benefits of going out to paid work.

What about you guys? Hands up whose moved about a bit this week.

Good things come to those who just can't wait

Happy birthday to me.Recaro, in his infinite wisdom, has given me an early birthday present.

Now before you get jealous at the thought of me holding a brand new dishcloth, squeegee or spoon, calm down. And there's no need to get fidgety at the thought of a back copy of 'Women's Own' or a recycled '101 uses for leftover beetroot'.

No siree.

I have a new Lumix LZ10. I like to point and shoot. SLRs are too bulky for me. However, I did enjoy reading through the manual. Not only did I learn stuff, but it really wound Recaro up. He couldn't take a look at the camera until I was sure about the order of unpacking stuff, loading batteries, charging batteries, loading memory card, working out the macro, timers for self-portraits and all sorts of other stuff.

Ha ha. Boys hate manuals.

So what did I learn? Well for a start I learnt to load images at low resolution to Blogger or else this post would have taken forever. Instead, this post was brought to you in minutes.

Here's a little local colour. These oyster shells aren't for use as portable ashtrays, fairy beds or jewellry holders. They go back on the seabed for another season's oysters. It's all very Lewis Carroll round here.
Then I wondered what was going to happen with the weather. Half the sky was clear and blue, the other was dark and treacherous. The sun was right in between. Would a quick point and click break the camera?
Yippee, no it didn't. My camera lives to see another day. Thank you, sports setting.

See the pretty flowers. Now I have a whole new perspective on photography.
Groan.

Do nothing: make it special

The weather forecast was all over the place. We had no idea what to expect. It meant that our plans for Father's Day were similarly laid back. This was just as well, because all I'd done was buy Recaro a box of his favourite cherry liqueur chocs and collected Peaches' birthday card and gift bag of homemade rocky road biscuits from Lisa.

After Recaro got Peaches up ... I was still lying in bed - see what I mean about not really 'getting' this Father's Day milarkey... Peaches refused to let him have his card. She was the one who made it, so it made sense that she should be the one to destroy it. Fortunately she couldn't muscle her way in to the rocky road otherwise Recaro would have nothing to show from this special day. (And I say nothing, because you don't think he got to keep those cherry chocs to himself do you?)

Here's a few moments of his day... waiting for Tea and Times to open for breakfast.

Taking Peaches and Duck to the beach.
Watching the Lancaster bomber, Spitfireand Hurricane planes flying along the Kent Coast. They did this on Saturday and Sunday - one flight was for the Queen's official birthday and the other was for a nearby air show.
Going to meet his sister, brother in law and nephew at the Duke of Cumberland. The Dealers were playing.

At the end of the day, after bath time, we took Peaches down to the beach for milk, castles and sunsets.

Notice that particularly slanty horizon? Perhaps we were a bit sideways. In fact we may have been sitting with our hats on the side of our heads; we'd had such a good day. It's only now that I recall that Recaro thought his wallet had been stolen in the afternoon. His bank called to say someone was using 'his' card at Carphone Warehouse.

After cancelling his cards, I found his wallet in the back of the car this morning. Just as well we didn't let this potentially awful thing ruin our day. It seems to have been the secret of the day; do nothing special and everything will turn out for the best of all possible worlds.

Something for the weekend

Cooked breakfasts are an excellent way to start the weekend. It involves Going Out, Eating Food, Not Washing Up and Spending Money. These all represent extra moments of happiness for Recaro and me even if the last one is a little irresponsible.

Last weekend our cooked breakfast was courtesy of The Goods Shed in Canterbury.
This place was once a derelict goods shed. No surprise there. What's interesting is that it was bought, restored and run by a single mother of two boys. She's since got married and had another son, but that's hardly put a dent in how great this place is. In case you are wondering - no, I don't know where she found the energy to create this business either. I'm just glad she did.

A farmer's market takes up most of the hall and a raised deck was put over the old railway tracks to provide a restaurant area. Everything on the menu is made using produce from the market - so in theory you can recreate your meal at home.

On our visit, we discovered that Peaches' godmother's friends were there in force. One was chefing - her breakfast was fantastic, of course, and another friend, Mad Anna, was waitressing. Much chatty fun was had by all.

Peaches charmed everyone. She'd brought her dogs out for a walk, which caused only an average amount of mayhem. We'd not been here for a while, which is just silly, because with a toddling, doggy-dragging little girl, it's an excellent tactic to go where the staff know your name.

All this practice at taking Peaches to restaurants is paying off. This was one of the best meals out yet. Recaro and I read the papers while she drank her pear juice. Then when our meals arrived, the three of us ate together. By the time we left, other people had only smiles and praise for the small one.

I write it all down, so that I can remember occasions like this when she's a stroppy teenager.

Week 5- still running

Week one *** Week two *** Week three *** Week four

The Texas sheet cake is still in the fridge. Who knew a cake could last so long, but that's not because we lack enthusiasm for eating it... it's just so big. But then, that's how I like my cake.

Despite the munchies, I'm keeping on with the running and in fact, just got back from a two-mile run. Yoga happens now and then, as do the sit ups. I'm trying to lay off of joining in with Peaches' supper time snacks and alcohol only happens on the weekend.

A big bonus, is that Recaro has taken to making us sandwiches for lunch. This means that I don't have to think about going to a shop or cafe - where all sorts of chocolate and crisps lay in wait for me. It also takes away the obstacles between me and my running.

(By the way, I shall see what I can do to get him to write a guest post explaining why he does things like make my sandwiches, organise picnics and clean out the larder cupboard.)

Despite this activity, I'm still not losing any actual weight. This weekend I saw a photo of myself on the beach. Chub-a-lubba-lub is the phrase that springs to mind. Of course, it's possible that the Texas sheet cake has something to do with it. I need to rethink my attitude to food. The question is - what do I need to eat, because if I'm exercising my not losing weight, then I'm simply eating too much of the wrong stuff?

1. More water. I should make sure that whenever I sit down, I have some water to hand.
2. More fruit. I need to eat a couple of pieces of fruit a day. The company even supply the stuff for free. This should be so easy.
3. If it were possible, I wouldn't eat so late. The earliest Recaro and I eat dinner is 8pm. 8.30-9pm is the norm during the week. I really can't see how we can change this - eating together is an important thing for us and I'm not going to change it. I suppose I have to settle for eating yet smaller meals - all of a sudden I realise what a significant rethink this is.

Who else is dieting out there? If any of you are on weight watchers or something similar, how is that working out in terms of eating with the rest of your family?

Gigi's Texas sheet cake

I like to live a leisurely life, it's not always possible, but with just one daughter, I get a few opportunities to do this. When she sleeps on the weekend - I do what I can to sleep as well. After TWO AND A HALF HOURS of sleep this afternoon, Recaro woke me up with a cup of tea and a request that he be released from duties to go to the pub. Peaches was still sleeping.

'Sure' I said. AND THEN LAID IN BED READING A BOOK, DRINKING TEA. It was more than bliss. There are words - I'm just resisting the temptation to swear on-line, let's just say it was fabulous.

Then I thought, if Peaches is still sleeping, I'd better start doing something useful before she wakes up. So I went downstairs to discover the kitchen in a bit of mess - but that Recaro had CLEANED AND REORGANISED our larder cupboard. How glad am I that I didn't mutter darkly about his trip to the pub. The boy did good.

With morning memories of making Peaches giggle, I started wondering what nice thing I could do next.
I decided today was the day to make Gigi's Texas sheet cake. I'd not heard of this before, but I'd seen her really straightforward recipe and compared it to The Pioneer Woman's more complicated version (which involves buttermilk...). Gigi's won my vote. After battling through the Daring Baker's Challenge I needed to try something simpler.

There were a number of factors that had intrigued me about this cake:

1. The name. I know very little about the big state, but it does have some romantic connotations. I have this idea that southern states know a thing or two about desserts and sweet stuff - I also imagine the women wear white gloves, hats and only drink homemade lemonade.

2. It involves boiling up water, butter and cocoa. Freaky.

3. I couldn't understand if it was going to be a cakey type of cake or if it would be a pudding type cake. Maybe it's a misguided perception, but I'm not certain that Americans make the same distinction between cake and pudding that Brits might. The only way to find out, would be to make it.

I used the following ingredients, converted to UK weights and measures from Gigi's original recipe:

For the cake
250ml water
8oz unsalted butter
6tbs cocoa (level)
8oz granulated sugar (I used vanilla sugar)
8oz self raising flour
2 eggs
1tsp vanilla extract
1tsp baking powder
6tbsp milk

For the icing
4oz butter
6tbs cocoa (level)
6tbs milk
1lb icing sugar
1tsp vanilla extract (I forgot this!)

1. Preheat the oven to 350F or 180C (Gas? Sorry, I don't know). Lightly butter a large swiss roll tin. American's call them jelly roll tins which sounds very jolly but no help at all if you are in your local UK cookshop.

2. Start with the cake, putting water, butter and cocoa in a saucepan. Stirring frequently, bring to the boil and then set aside.

3. Mix up sugar, flour, eggs and vanilla in a bowl. This ended up almost like dough - Gigi, did I go too far with this?
4. Add the hot cocoa mix to the cake dough and mix it up good.

5. Put 1tsp of baking powder into 6tbsp of milk. Stir it up and add to the cake batter.

6. Pour cake batter into the swiss roll tin. I was so cautious about how much cake I was producing that I prepared two tins. One tin was enough and two would have been a mistake.Put it in the oven for 12-17 minutes. Like many cakes, a knife should come out clean when it's ready. While the cake is baking, get cracking with the topping.


7. Put butter, cocoa and milk in a saucepan. Heat this till it's all melted and mixed together. Add the icing sugar - I added this pretty slowly so that it wouldn't dust the whole kitchen. It would have been a good idea to have sieved it - it took quite some heating to break down the lumps. The Pioneer Woman adds chopped pecans to her topping... but that was getting too close to brownie territory for me.
8. Here's the cake. You can see how uneven the heat is in my oven. It's supposed to be fan-assisted, but it's clearly only risen on one side and is even a bit burnt on the other. I'm loathe to open the oven on a baking cake... what to do?? The good thing is, that this cake is moist enough for this not to be a problem.
9. At this point, I was getting happy. Peaches had woken up by now and I'd cooked her dinner of pan-fried sea bass and baked beans (what do you mean that sounds revolting - it was lovely) while finishing the cake. I wasn't really paying attention to how the icing was flowing...
As you can see, it all worked out fine. To my mind, it works best as a hot chocolate pudding - if you can handle the time you'll need to spend in the kitchen getting it finished. It's going to be lovely cut into squares to eat with coffee. In fact, it's going to be ideal to take some to my mother-in-law's tomorrow for some daughter-in-law points.
Hot, moist, scrumptious Texas sheet cake just in time for Peaches' dessert.
So long as Recaro doesn't get in the way. This, by the way, was her second helping. She'd eaten plenty of fruit and veg at lunch, so it seemed mean to refuse her sudden ability to enunciate 'more'... That's my excuse, anyhoo.

Of course, the calorie laden dessert probably had quite a lot to do with her desire to tear around the living room pulling her dog behind her. We also had some dancing to Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince.
It was all quite exhausting.
Thank you Gigi for the recipe, the calories, the smiles and the word 'more'.

Daddy does things differently

Recaro was responsible for Peaches yesterday while I was in London. I love this, because it means that he's always got an opportunity to find out what she's learnt, how happy she is and to teach her something new.

Yesterday he collected her from our childminder in the afternoon and took her straight down to the beach for her last snack of the day: jaffa cakes, baby-crisps and apple juice.

On the way, there and back, they stomped through the long grass, looking at flowers and watching bumble bees buzzing about. He taught her how to say bumble bee and how to buzz buzz buzz.

So far so cute.

Then Recaro continues his lessons on eating in a seemly and decorous fashion.

This begins with Recaro threatening to steal her jaffa cake. So Ellie stuffs them into her mouth as quickly as possible. At this point things start to resemble scenes from Animal House ("I'm a zit, get it?") as he then pulls faces at her to make her giggle while simultaneously trying to swallow.

Recaro really enjoys telling me all about this. He's very thrilled with getting me to ask Ellie what noise a bumble bee makes. Then he remembers the Animal House episode and shares that with me. I think it's great he does these funny things with her... it's not like I'm going to give him a hard time for not trying to get her to behave like a character out of Jane Austen.

But then he realises that he's going to be exposed for another misdemeanour. So he 'fesses up to having drunk the milk from his cornflakes in front of Peaches. Even as he did it, he thought 'oops, shouldn't have done that'. Sure enough, she dropped her spoon and drank from the bowl instead.

This morning she did exactly the same. She thought it was the best thing.

And of course, I'm hardly going to mind. It kept her enthusiasm up for finishing the whole bowl. As we all know - not having to throw food away makes a mother very happy.

I forgot the title - it's all McQueen, Ralph and Chanel here, honey.

I'm going to spending the next few days thinking about what I want out of work and how much time is 'enough' time with Peaches. In the meantime, I have to continue keeping my act together, making an impact at work and having fun at home. It would also be nice to book a hair appointment and may be ... even blow dry my hair instead of just letting it dry. These little challenges seem so far beyond me.

However, I can still be relied upon to drum up some enthusiasm for shopping. It's been a little while since I took you shopping on Bond Street. Since work is on my mind, I thought it would be a good idea to check out some office wear.

On the way I thought this guy was a mannequin. His chest looked a bit sunken. Just after I took a photo he moved. Which was a relief because I would have felt national shame and embarrassment if the guards outside Buckingham Palace weren't real.

I remember being really scared of the guards at Whitehall. You can stand next to them for a photo, but they are so still... and then MOVE.... aaargh. Terrifying. And don't think it's weird just for a susceptible six year old. I still see grown, tattooed, tough looking guys getting freaked out in exactly the same way. It's as if the mystery of what these soldiers might do, holds people back from touching or threatening them.

Anyhoo, at Bond Street I took a look at Alexander McQueen. I usually like his window displays, but I'm not so sure about his power suits. As the weather warms up (I exaggerate, of course, but still this is JUNE) I couldn't bear to wear such close fitting suits. Even if my figure were hot enough to handle it.

Interestingly, the suit on the left is pulled a little too tight. That doesn't look good on a mannequin and surely wouldn't look good on a real person. All of which makes the pale snake skin number look like a better option. Who'd have thought?

This is Ralph Lauren I think. To be honest I'm not one hundred per cent certain about this. These are my fantasy work outfits. Oh to be slim with narrow shoulders, able to find a perfectly fitting dress that would cling and skim in all the right places.

The funky jacket and trousers would also be great on a narrow shouldered probably flat-chested lass. While my body shape isn't ideal for either of these outfits, there are variations out there that can work for me. At least I'm inspired to look for something I can a) enjoy wearing b) fit into and c) afford.

Which brings me to Chanel. I can't afford it, I'd hope to God not to fit into it and I wouldn't enjoy wearing it. If you could afford to wear Chanel, would you ever find inspiration in this window display? If anyone reading this has any experience of fashion retail or window dressing, perhaps you could explain what the idea might be behind this 'concept'.
And finally, because it's summer in the northern hemisphere and everyone is thinking about holidays - here are some cheerful summer shoes to put a spring in your step.

Week 4 - who's still with me?

Week one *** Week two *** Week three

I've returned from the first of this week's runs - chugging around the same old route. Only this time, I finally took the trouble to use my pedometer to measure the distance.

2.2km. I've now tested the route on www.mapmyrun.com - and it was actually 3.12km.

Hurray! I'd been hoping for a really nice surprise of something like 3km - and I got it. Now I only (only? huh?) have to do the route twice to have covered the distance of my sponsored run. This means I'm going to have step up the pace start visualising the route of my next, longer run.

The running has been the main focus of the SLFP for me so far. However, my tummy could really do with some attention and I don't feel as stretchy as I'd like. If I really did everything in the SLFP, I would be doing a range of activities that would help me strengthen and lengthen my muscles and improve my heart rate and lung capacity.

In the event that anyone else is struggling to find time for all the suggested, I'm going to LOWER the bar. Why? Well fitness starts in the head and there's no point in beating ourselves up with things we can't do or struggle to change. Better to start with little things, discover we like the changes and adapt our lives to incorporate more of it. Also, it's my plan and this is how lush I want it to be.

1. Stand tall. Good posture and engaged core stomach muscles can help you appear to lose at least a couple of pounds. If you are in any doubt about good posture take a look at any pre-school child. See how relaxed and upright they are, evenly balanced on both feet (except when toddling, of course). I love how babies sit so straight. If you happen to be slouching at your 'puter right now - STRAIGHTEN UP. Now you look so much cuter.
2. If you have done next to no exercise over the past week - do four sun salutations and/or ten sit ups and five tricep dips. As a one off bout of exercise, it will have no effect on your body whatsoever but will restart the time from which you last did some exercise. That's got to be good for your head.
3. Drink more water, eat more fruit. I never did like deprivation diets - just try and pack in some more of the good stuff.

Thank you for your thoughts on working v SAH. Today I'm thinking that I'm going to slog it out some more on the work front and endeavour to get really focused at work so that I can properly enjoy my time with Peaches on my days off. Feel free to chip in with your thoughts on maternal guilt, work/life balance, ambition and having a life plan.

Heartache

I've decided to introduce a further element of anonymity to my blog and will start calling my daughter Peaches. It's what we call her sometimes anyway, but in the hope that I keep blogging for a long while to come, I think it will be a good thing for her if I keep her name off the internet.

After all, if Recaro and I have blog names... so can she.

That's all an aside. What I really want to post about is how my heart is aching right now. It started on Sunday afternoon when I started thinking about work the next day. And then thinking about dropping Ellie off at her fabulous childminder's.

I've been back at work for almost one year, but it's finally happening. It's becoming very difficult to think about leaving her. I'm just loving all my time with her. Even when she stamps her little feet and rages for not being allowed to do exactly as she wants. Even when she spills milk on the sofa. Even when she ignores me because she'd prefer to watch Lazytown.

If this feeling continues, what am I going to do? It'll mean days of examining our finances, realising we can't really have me not working. Maybe I'd have to think about negotiating doing less paid work... And the fear that work won't or can't be that flexible.

What if I gave up work and then regretted it? It'd be really hard to get a new London job. Local work doesn't pay so well. Which other company out there is going to be so flexible?

Recaro asked me how I felt about my work/life/mum balance recently. I made all sorts of reassuring noises to him so that he wouldn't feel under pressure. And now I feel under pressure. What a mistake that was.

Of course writing about this is cathartic. The notion is dawning on me that I could be feeling a pang of envy for my neighbour who is about to have a baby and go on.... maternity leave. Glory days. Every day spent just doing what made me and my baby happy. Plus work was in the background and continuing to pay some of the bills.

Maybe I'll always want what I can't have. Mind you - I was blissfully happy on maternity leave - nowhere else had greener grass at that time.