Bodiam Ball - let's make it happen!

Do you know Bodiam Castle? It is stunning, a perfect slice of history in a perfect setting. For a long time I've dreamt of hosting a wonderful night of indulgent fun there for friends and family. Now the National Trust are running a competition that could make that dream a reality....all I need are votes.

Check out the link Bodiam Ball

If you like the sound of my dream night out please vote and share the link to spread the word!

Thank you and fingers crossed! x

I have of late, wherefore I know not...lost my cooking mojo.

I seem to be channelling my inner Hamlet at the minute with these post headlines. It must be my education coming back to haunt me although maybe I should have paid more attention in home-economics as these past few weeks my abilities in the kitchen have taken a knock or two. I've gone from (self proclaimed) kitchen diva to kitchen disaster in the time it took to realise that grown-ups at work actually have conversations and don't just say 'Please can I have' swiftly followed by 'Why?' every five minutes. Perhaps I am still reeling from the shock and when I get my balance back so the cooking mojo will return.

Big tall hubby and I still enjoy monthly £10 dinner dates, this month it was my turn to cook and I set out determined to be Mrs Organised and deliver a delicious taste sensation in three easy courses despite it being on a Friday and me not getting home from work till gone six. Attending the girl-guides all those years ago hasn't been wasted on me, oh no, I can be prepared with the best of them. So Wednesday I'm planning a menu, loosely around an Andalusian theme, Thursday I begin to get things prepped. We're starting with Gazpacho, which would have been fine but for the fact the blender broke.The resulting food processed soup lacks that, smoothness, the velvety touch, but I ploughed ahead with it anyway. Then I attempted the pudding, a mango tatin, which went horribly wrong not once but twice. Second time around I was too tired to care and plonked it on a plate hoping lashings of ice-cream would disguise the burnt-caramel top.

The real Gazpacho - look at the glossy liquid in that glass!

Friday arrives and in a crazy, 'ooh I've got a paycheck' frenzy I decided to make an extra course (clearly flaunting the £10 rule) of dates wrapped in bacon. Sadly the balsamic reduction goes the same way as the mango tatin. So we're 'enjoying' and I use the term loosely, burnt appetisers followed by grainy lumpy soup for starters.Thank heavens for Sainsbury's special offer on Rioja!

Things start to look up with the main, polenta crusted pork with a chili buttered rice and green beans (thank you Delicious Magazine for that). That we wolf down all smiles. Although, by this point it could be the Rioja kicking in. Then comes the dessert, with mangoes so overcooked they give rubber a run for its money. You could have tiled roofs with them, I swear. Hubby, in a bid to cheer me up announces the pastry 'is lovely and goes well with the cream'. Much to his amazement this throws me further into a foodie-funk - I bought the pastry ready made - the only edible bit of the whole dessert was not from my own fair hand. Sigh. Abandoning culinary delights for coffee and rum is a much wiser move and ensures we finish our date with a flourish. These things are for the fun, not the food, I remind myself; there is more than one sort of mojo out there...

Still, there is a summer fete coming up and I'm down to bake a cake...please sir, can I have my mojo back now?

To Bee or not to Bee

Golly it has been a while hasn't it? That's what getting a job does for you; no time left to do all things you did when you didn't have a job; well not a full time-all the time one anyway. Now I have to get up every morning I can see why I liked freelance. Still, on the plus side my bank manager can heave a sigh of relief and my purse is officially upgraded to a nice large glass of Rioja.

Job or no job, mummy duties remain. And what can be a finer (or more demanding) mummy task than creating the ubiquitous Fancy Dress Outfit. Why do these educational establishments insist on hosting events that involve dressing ones child in a costume that is near to impossible to pull together from an old tea towel and some sticky backed plastic? What happened to the Nativity being the only time when you had to transform your wee one into something marvellous? I have not one but two of these things in the space of three weeks; I ask you do they think we all have mini-costume wardrobes at our finger tips? My house isn't a storage facility for the BBC. These things take time. They take thought. They take it out of me, they do, they really do.

Now that is a bad-bee. My bee was better I swear! If only he'd worn it so I could get a photo...

These days you can pick up fancy dress outfits for a modest price and the wee ones do love a bit dress up; so it could be an investment. But filled with the desire to be a good-mummy I whipped out the needle and thread and got creative with some fabric, knicker elastic, coat hangers and fabric paint. It seemed like a good idea; cost effective even. Hmm. Me thinks it may have been a false economy. My small boy was due to sing at the Bugs Ball, so inspired I set about forging him a Bumble Bee outfit. This comprised of black tights, a long sleeved black top, deely-boppers and a handcrafted yellow and black striped bee 'shift' elasticated at neck and ankles to give that 'puff-ball' look, complete with mesh covered coat hanger wings. Honestly it was not as bad as it could have been. It could have been so much worse. Hubby declared himself dismayed on our wee man's behalf. 'He's not wearing it' he declared. 'Oh yes he is' I insisted - I'd finished this masterpiece at midnight - on a work-night too. It was not going to waste; not on my watch. That was my stance as fell wearily into bed...

As it turns out my first born, a small and growing boy did not sing as a Bee. He sang as a slug, permitting all but the bee bit of the outfit anywhere near his tiny frame. So in answer to Hamlet's eternal question, it is clearly 'not to Bee'.

Can you picture the Royal Wedding photo album?

Unless you have been dwelling in a cave these past few months the crazy media feeding frenzy that is ramping up for the nuptials of the century as William and Katy tie the knot can not have passed you by. While I fervently wish it would simply slide past my consciousness I am unable to avoid its approach. Which got me to wondering how would they do it if they had total freedom. An even more radical thought, what if they were footing the bill? As anyone who has ever said the immortal words 'I do' will appreciate the fact of a wedding quadruples the cost of everything involved. That bunch of roses you see for £20? Oh no, with a special wedding ribbon added they suddenly cost £80. And then there are the photos. Capturing all those smiles doesn't come cheap. It is amazing the bride and groom can smile at all with what most shebangs cost these days.

Hubby and I did it on a budget so tiny it probably doesn't even cover the cost of the confetti for our dear darling Royals. Thankfully we have creatively wonderful friends who loaned us their talent at no cost so the wedding album is bursting with great shots of the big day. A good photo is hard to beat for bringing back memories or simply just a smile. But not all days of our lives are 'big days', more's the pity as the excuse for champers would be quite brilliant. What about those days that slip past full of laughter and silliness? I've come round to the idea that it's why they invented mobile phones. There is a back catalogue to rival Annie Liebovitz of snap shots and caught moments; these show our little family in progress through this life and are worth more than gold to me. Flicking through the digitized photo albums is an instant mood enhancer.

Possibly the greatest photo collage of all time...

Another up-side to the digital photo is home printing; cheap and instant, like a Polaroid without the shaking. As the job hunting (mentioned in the last post) is something of a non-starter I decided our house needed a big mood boost; a karmic shift of sorts. What better than a huge collage of family photos? An old framed poster was the perfect size, so out went Klimt and in went the wee ones along with a carefully edited selection of mummy and daddy. Home printing allowed me to plunder the back catalogue, printing pics of all sizes to build up a massive A1 sized gathering of all that was good with life. Just looking at it makes me feel all fortunate and soft centred. We now have a new vibrant bit of 'art' for the walls and all for the cost of some paper and ink. And I have pinned down dozens and dozens of reasons to be cheerful in the face of job hunting torment and impending Royal weddings. Say cheese!

What would Angelina Jolie do?

There are those mums that tell their kids "I don't want anything for mother's day." Who are they kidding? I mean really you spend all year being on hand for cooking, cleaning, hugging and playing, listening, making and general all round providing. Isn't it nice, just for one day (okay let's make that two days as your birthday must come under the same joyous rule book) to kick back and be indulged? Call me selfish if you will but I like to wallow in the 'me-me-me' of this glorious hallmark holiday. Come on, they don't call it Mother's Day for nothing now! I will bet my last chocolate in the box that even a jet set A Lister like Angelina Jolie welcomes the chance for her brood to show some mommy-love.

From People magazine website - Angelina and her babies. All mommies need a pampering...

With the wee ones being a tad too wee to actually understand what this day is all about I have to manage my expectations a little but big tall hubby helped them deliver a day to treasure. Now when I say I want something, I mean bare minimum a card. And did they deliver? Oh yes they did. Wee boy came home with the sweetest card ever from nursery (it is good to know that he loves me because I make him smile - AND - give him chocolate) and both made gorgeous cards with a little handicraft daddy-help. You can't beat handmade when it comes to cards; all that budding creativity on show and it costs next to nothing. Indulgence can come cheap.

Not quite as secret as secret squirrel but lovely none-the-less.

 

Of course the chocolates and flowers didn't go amiss - although wee boy blew any surprise factor by announcing first thing, "Daddy has secret flowers and chocolates for you mummy." Well, not so secret now are they? Bless. But a little mummy-me-me-me-ness does not have to involve presents (welcome though they are), nope what made my day was the constant stream of hugs and kisses from wee boy and toddler girl flagged with the cry "Happy Mother's Day", and big tall hubby's willingness to take on all kid-duties from dirty nappies to bedtime stories for the day and cook me dinner into the bargain...and to do the dishes after. Now that is what I call a pampering.

Sew, a needle pulling thread

In case you hadn't guessed I like to cook. I love cooking, which is just as well as I do a lot of it, tonnes of the stuff. Our bread, cakes, biscuits, sweet treats, soups, sauces and meals are 99.9% of the time home cooked by my fair hand. As a consequence my wee ones enjoy time in the kitchen watching mummy go slowly mad trying to prepare four things at once and keep tiny fingers from being burnt/chopped/blended/crushed in the frenzy.

Alternatively I'm attempting to save the dish of the day from total ruination thanks to the wonderful 'help' the wee ones love to offer. Such help as adding handfuls of salt, pouring in twice as much liquid or dropping it all into the beaten egg mix; all and more has gone before my frazzled eyes as two hours of work goes into the bin. But, you know, it's my mummy-duty to encourage this cooking interest so I'm told and I always like to do what I'm told - well nearly always.

To be fair small boy is now very adept at helping and will almost do exactly what he's asked. I like this progress and to encourage it I decided it was time for him to own an apron. Toddler girl was gifted a charming pink apron which she adores mostly because it is pink. Pink is the colour of joy and happiness for her right now; she gravitates towards all things pinky like a bee to nectar. Both the wee ones like to copy grown up behaviour, so when I don my apron toddler girl must have hers. Poor small boy was feeling a tad left out.

Brighton has some fantasticly lush cook shops, and those shops that don't seem to sell anything specific just random things from joke toys to candles and in the mix is always some fascinatingly wonderful homeware that costs at least twice as much as you'd expect for the size/practicality/general existence. Off I went in search of an apron suitable for a small boy and aprons I found in said cook shops and random emporiums. Could I find one that was A) attractive and B) affordable? Could I heck. If it was cheap then it was usually branded with some hideous kids TV programme and if it was funky it was a small fortune for such a simple item.

Many choices of pattern but it comes at a price.

With no middle ground in sight and very achey feet from all that shop-browsing I admitted defeat and trudged home; it was on the slog up the hill that it hit me - I would sew him an apron. With bags of fabrics at my disposal it was the ideal sollution. That very eve I perused my fabrics and using toddler girl's apron (or apricot as she likes to call it, thankfully I speak fluent toddler) as a basic template I upgraded it for my small man. So easy, it took less than two hours to choose, cut and hand sew the whole thing. The next morning I made pancakes just to have an excuse to whip it out for him.

Should you fancy making your own I found this great web site which has stacks of apron designs you can use... Free-apron-patterns-you-can-make

Now my small boy sports a very dashing denim apron, designed especially for him. It has been lovingly hand crafted from recycled jeans and bears his name in chunky letters of other clothing related fabrics. Waste not want not as the mantra goes. When he stands still for long enough I shall post up a photo as I'm most chuffed with this needle and thread effort. It cost me nothing but time and it was time well spent. All three of us strut around the kitchen decked out in our apricots having a grand old time with whatever ingredients are called for; cooking doesn't get better than this.

From coast to coast

Big tall hubby and I dwell on the south coast; being by the sea is wonderful. Fresh air, fresh donuts at the pier and fresh faces every summer wandering around the place all astray. Funny how when you're a tourist you forget that other people live there all the time and when you live there all the time you forget that in other places you're the annoying tourist.

With both our families up north, these days we're the tourists when we go home; especially lacking the required regional accents. Hubby never had his and mine just got lost along the way; careless I know. Nothing marks you out like a stranger in strange land than your voice. But it still feels like home and makes for the perfect get away. What more affordable holiday is there than staying with friends and family? Not to mention the brilliant babysitting service it affords. We certainly made the most of that one; not having grandparents on the doorstep usually it was a treat beyond imagining to have them to lean on for a week. It was even possible to squeeze in a cinema visit (Black Swan - amazing) which we never do at home. Why waste a rare babysitter to go sit in a darkened room for a few hours ignoring each other? We may be notching up two decades together but we can still hold a conversation - given half a chance. Let's face it with wee ones around a proper conversation is as rare as roller skates on a granny. So when we had the option of babysitters for a few days in a row suddenly going to the cinema felt like a treat. The bonus of going up north is that it cost half the price of going at home, leaving plenty of spare change for some pick and mix sweeties. Oh we know how to live we do. Plus hot fresh coffee to keep us awake for the duration; problem of going away with wee ones is the disruption to sleep schedules. When they won't sleep neither can we...

Unless a generous neighbour is away for a holiday and leaves her keys for you. As an extra holiday bonus we got to spend not one but two nights all on our ownsome. We weren't just in a different room we were in a different building. Heaven. Thank crunchie for granny who embraced her 6am wake up calls without a murmur while we slept on and on. It was as good as a hotel; without room service but hey, sleep trumps breakfast on a tray any day. We actually felt like humans after our two nights of uninterrupted sleep and extended lie-ins. Well worth travelling 500 miles for make no mistake; and in the words of the proclaimers I'd travel 500 more.

A holiday without visiting a tourist attraction is like a boiled egg without the soldiers; it just isn't right. As Madagascar is the film of choice for our wee boy, with toddler girl swiftly following it seemed sensible to make the zoo our tourist destination. 'Lets go see Alex the lion' we enthused at wee boy who wasn't that keen to get back in the car. Unfortunately Scotland in winter is not the best place to see lions, tigers and bears. While we shivered in the showery cold the animals sensibly hid indoors under straw keeping warm. Apart from the penguins; it was the perfect climate for them. Our small ones didn't mind, they were too busy roaring at each other or attempting to break into enclosures. As grown ups we would have been a tad miffed at the cost of staring at nothing for half the afternoon had it not been for another generous friend providing us with free passes for the place; hard to complain at that price! The conclusion was that the zoo is best left to summer but at least we tried. It cost nothing and we lost nothing (apart from the tips of our fingers to frost bite).

Like their cartoon cousins Penguins are renown for their swift flippers when it comes to swiping goodies.

So our first family holiday of 2011 was also our first visit to family this year. It's handy having relatives half way up the country and right at the top; we can double dip into the gene pool and save on petrol costs. It wasn't quite Land's End to John O'Groats but our little coast to coast adventure was the perfect (economical) escape.

One for the road

A road trip can be a wonderful thing. Open roads, comfy leather seats, good tunes on the stereo, junk food and lazy banter; cruising along life's highway with no rush or fuss. We've had many a happy time on four wheels; whether it be a road-trip proper or a long-haul motorway visit. That of course was BC. Yes, the days before children. Add two small ones to the mix and the romance of the long distance drive drops sharply. Tiny feet kicking at the back of your chair slightly detracts from the joy of scenery gazing; even when it is the glory of the peak district flying past the window.

Can't travel 500 miles up the country without eating though, most especially with children. Motorway services have never been a favourite but avoiding them is near impossible. Our plan has always been to scoff our own road-rubbish limiting service stops for caffeine fill-ups. With kids in tow the quality of our road-rubbish has gone up; now it even includes some of our five-a-day. Blimey. Fruit? In a car? What happened to the wotsits? But the caffeine fuel remains essential; as does the opportunity to let the kids run free. They don't take well to being strapped down for hours on end, especially toddler girl who announced 'I want to walk' in a very loud voice just hours into our mammoth drive up north. With impeccable timing she chose to drop off mere minutes before our service-stops which left her less that cheerful on the return to the car. By the time we reached Carlisle I was quite prepared to let her out for the much demanded 'walk' - all the way to Edinburgh. Thank god for strawberries. These red lovelies proved to be the saviour of our sanity. Both the wee ones happily munched them while we let the i-pod shuffle us up the motorway.

But there is one service stop that is a shining beacon of joy for harassed parents on the road; in fact it is a stopping-delight for anyone on wheels who happens to be up in the Lake District. Some know it as Tebay, others as West Morland, either name the place is the same. Why all service stops can't be like this I don't know. It is restful, the seats are comfy, it has ambiance (I know), it has a lake - with ducks, and a farm shop that sells snacks which although rather pricey does actually involve food and not cardboard or sawdust. What is more it has a children's play area that puts the sad little corners most services offer to shame. Hand crafted from real solid wood, beautifully decorated and ingeniously designed to allow maximum run about for wee legs in a small area the jewel in this play-zone crown is the CCTV that feeds directly to the tables and chairs in the adjacent parent zone (which also comes with kiddy sized tables and chairs so the wee ones can sit by you and pretend to be grown ups). Mummy and Daddy can upload on the coffee safe in the knowledge that the small ones are playing nicely.

The kid-zone is a treat for tiny sore legs and eyes

Even toddler girl didn't mind being woken up when she saw this place. And ever conscious of the spending - you get a second cup of coffee free if you take your empty cup up. Nice touch. I heart this place big time. Service station of the century I say. If you are going up north then schedule this place in - you will not regret it. On a budget it ticks every box; reasonable priced coffee and pleasant facilities. If you have the cash to splash then there are so many goodies on offer here you will pop with spending pleasure.

The gorgeous Tebay Services; makes the rest look amateur

As for the rest of the services; blah and double blah. Drink up and get out quick the car is way preferable. And so hot tips for in-car munchies on a budget include: the ubiquitous sandwich (cut into dinky squares), cheese chunks, strawberries (oh yes), bananas, little sausages and mini donuts (way less mess that biscuits). This finger food is easy to make, quick to scoff and very handy for passing to backseat passengers too wee to be trusted with their own nibbles. All that food combined with the coffee stops and a good soundtrack, why it was almost like a car trip BC. Keep that motor running...

The joy of shank's pony

When one has two wee ones the opportunity for a night out is rare indeed, especially with 99% of the family oop north. Friends are fantastic, not only do they provide babysitting services for free but we can enjoy kid-free coupledom happy in the knowledge that the wee mites are in safe hands. But friends are friends with their own lives to live so we don't like to call on them too often. So what does one do if going out is not an option? For us, staying in is the new going out. We live in dread of being one of those couples who go out to dinner and sit in silence because they've forgotten how to be together. Isn't it all too easy with demanding mini-egos tugging at your attention to blast through the day and not share more than two words with the other half? Is this acceptable? Not on your nellie. I say fight back. Reclaim life as a couple. Home based socialising is the way forwards. Happy mummy and daddy makes for happy kids. Big tall hubby and I book date nights in the diary and nothing but nothing gets in the way of pre-booked 'us' time.I've mentioned before our £10 dinner dates and they are still going strong. We've added a movie night, good film, couch potato nibbles and a glass of wine while we curl up on the sofa together. Bliss.

I don't know who writes the film descriptions for pay per view movies but I think in a past life they wrote the phone book. The most eagerly anticipated of new releases is rendered dreary and flat by the hand of these pay per view reviewers. Instead we google it to get a real idea of what it is all about; what a pain huh.

Call me a Luddite but I still prefer a trip to the video shop. Yes I know it is DVDs these days but it is still the video shop for me. Same as with Opal fruit - starburst? I think not. There is nothing to compare to browsing the shelves, checking out the box artwork and absorbing the blurb on the back. Prices are the same as pay per view so the only hassle is getting there. Now small boy is at nursery it leaves a few hours per day for me and toddler girl to get out and about. So much easier with just her as she still hasn't figured out how to unclasp her pushchair straps. Whoop. A contained toddler is a marvellous thing. I can feel my shoulders unclench at the very thought.

With toddler girl in tow I chose a film in relative ease; the only tricky bit was which film to watch. So many amazing movies and so few movie nights. In the end I let the cast list tempt me (genuinely good actors rather than phwoar factor) and went for The Brothers Bloom. A con-man caper of the highest order by the director of Brick (another stylish film noir-esque delight). It didn't disappoint. Neither did the pizza. We usually try to cook the nibbles at home but plans went awry this time as I forgot to defrost the pizzas (oops) so it was Domino's for the NHS discount; it might be movie night but thriftiness is all round here. I did bake chocolate cookies though. No tutting please, movie night is exempt from the healthy eating regime. Delicious.

Greed guilt the next day? Nope. I walked it off. Toddler girl is pretty steady on her pins these days and I'm at long last venturing forth without the pushchair. Outside with the wee ones without wheels? Can it be true? Actually I think I get more exercise with the wheels; pushing over 5 stone in weight up a big hill is no mean feat. But going on foot means freedom. No more am I a pavement pariah; pedestrian enemy number one. Nope, now I am the crazy lady shouting don't run, come back, please stand up and stop talking to the [imaginary] guinea pigs. There was one behind every gate you know; pesky critters. Now I'm pitied by my fellow pavement pounders rather than despised; I like to think of this as progress. Toddler girl thought it was the most fun ever to sit down a quarter of the way across the road. Cars? Not a worry for the wee ones when there was a mummy to wind up. I resorted to carrying a wriggly toddler girl like a sack of spuds while small boy attempted to turn his fingers into squid as my hand desperately grasped his.

These feet were made for walking and now that's what they do

These hiccups aside we made it to the video shop and back to return The Brothers Bloom in a mere fifty minutes. On my own I can get there and back in ten. Like I say, progress, it always comes at a price. At least this a price I can afford and am more than willing to pay. My pushchair days are nearly over; let's hear it for feet!

Chicken soup for the soul (or immune system for the more pragmatic)

New year, new broom. Well I would sweep things clean but I've been too wiped out thanks to the flu bug doing the rounds. Is it swine flu? Well I have pigged out over the past month but doubt that porky behaviour garners porker diseases. It was definitely flu though, not your common cold or even dubious man-flu but full-on bludgeon your brains to mush flu. Nothing like a spot of flu to knock the oomph right out of your sails. While I did feel right royal rotten it was also secretly quite lovely to abandon all hope and collapse on the sofa. Big tall hubby came into his own and whisked the wee ones off my head to allow me space to be properly ill. Yes, they were indeed on my head, both of them. So weak was I that I couldn't raise the energy to shift them. They thought it was hilarious. Although they aren't laughing now the bug has got them under its wicked spell. Not that I'm laughing either. Two sick wee ones demanding cuddles, too cranky to share their mummy, chocolate not even a temptation; it is the stuff of nightmares.Plus I'm still in what we'll optimistically call recovery (this is a vicious bug and I fear a second assault) so have limited resources myself to bestow on my needy offspring. Impossible to refuse them though, their poor hot faces looking to me to make it all better. Thank goodness for calpol for without madness will surely come.

On the upside all this illness has kick started the homemade soup marathon that will form the backbone of lunches for 2011 in a bid to shift some of these extra pounds (sadly not financial ones) and get our bods in healthy shape. We started with red lentil and sweet potato but the real jewel in this culinary crown is chicken noodle soup. When I was a wee girl my dad made this soup like no one else and it is from his recipe that I draw inspiration today. There is a reason they call it Jewish Penicillin; this soup has magical medicinal properties. By accident, if not design I have started the year as intended, home cooking in the most economical and healthy way possible.

For your eyes only here is the recipe, feel free to play with it and add stuff or take it away...

healthy and tasty; the perfect fix for flu

Take a chicken carcass (save the stripped off cooked meat) or chuck in 4 legs or 6 drumsticks and boil them for at least two hours with 2 bay leaves. Remove the bones and leaves, keep the liquid and save the flesh to one side.
Chop an onion into thin slices and throw into the liquid.
Shred half a cabbage thinly and chuck that into the liquid.
Add a generous couple of handfuls of sweetcorn and peas.
Add a pack of cooked prawns (can be a large or small pack to your own taste)
Add one teaspoon of white pepper, a big pinch of salt, a hefty twist of ground black pepper and a teaspoon of Chinese five spice.
Bring to the boil then let simmer for at least 30 mins (the longer this cooks the  better it all tastes although the prawns can get a bit rubbery so you can add them with the chicken later if you prefer)
Add a pack of instant noodles, or any dried noodles you like, even pasta will work. Simmer for another 15 mins.
Chuck in the cooked chicken meat.
Whisk a couple of eggs in a cup. Remove the soup from the heat and immediately add the egg slowly, stirring gently to swirl it all around. And voila - soup to make you feel good in the inside in all possible ways.

By the way if you fancy a black & white movie to while away the ill-hours I can recommend On the Beach, great cast, bizarre plot and most un-Hollywood in execution, spoiler alert: it is a tad depressing. That and a bowl of soup makes being ill almost worth it.

Boxing clever

This year I have come to the conclusion that Boxing Day is far superior to Christmas Day. There is less stress, less mess, no fuss and a whole lot more relaxation with all the treats left over from the day before. Apparently it is so called due to the boxes people got - some say servants got gift boxes from masters, others argue the priests opened the alms boxes to the poor and yet another suggestion is that the Romans collected money in boxes to pay for the people to have their games. I see the theme there - boxes. All good stuff.

We had lots of boxes in our house too. Empty boxes with the contents scattered in death inducing fashion all over the place. Not a single room was safe from small bits of plastic, nuggets of wood or wheeled things. Thank goodness we elected to conduct the day from the safety of the sofa or someone could have been hurt. Although we did manage a small jaunt to the beach for a pebble dash with the wee ones; nothing better for working off the mince pies. Life beside the seaside is wonderful in winter. No tourists crowding the place leaving wide stretches of beach free for the locals to enjoy. Okay it is a tad on the chilly side but the view is worth it; nothing says hope like an endless horizon. There is such promise where the sea meets the sky, perfect for the closing days of the festive season.

Not quite as we saw it Boxing Day but Brighton Beach in winter is amazing.

And it has been a funny festive season this year. Christmas had ping-ponged from our place to up north and then back down again. Our feasty preparations swirled like snow as health and weather took our plans and shook them upside down. In the end by the time it came to the big day we'd sort of lost momentum. I say 'we' but the small ones maintained full throttle until around 4pm on Christmas day when they hit melt down; almost literally given the amount of chocolate consumed. Tall hubby and I rode out the day on wine and adrenalin; we cruised on the kids craziness but after they hit the hay we found ourselves fading fast. So it was a relief to wake up on Boxing Day full of festive joy and that special Christmas buzz that makes all things merry and bright.

The real fun in Boxing Day comes from the left overs. All that mad over spending is swapped for thrifty concoctions involving beat up roasties and mashed sprouts. We opted for a goose this year and I just didn't know how it would taste the day after; some things don't work the next go round, thankfully goose isn't one of them. I dry fried it with a bit of garlic, shallots and smoked sweet paprika with a dash of cream; totally yummy with a bit of bubble and the chili roasted beetroot on the side. Tomorrow the plan is to stir fry it with some grated ginger and orange for a noodle-tastic dish of leftover delight. And then that goose will be well and truly cooked.

The goose got fat and we ate it all up!

Now that the frenzy of Christmas is past we can fully enjoy the rest of  this festive season. There are treats-a-plenty to be over-consumed and presents to be explored, TV specials to veg in front of and friends to swap xmassy stories with. And let us not forget the grandest of all grand finales - New Year's Eve. Ah yes, the Christmas spirit is flowing now...Merry Christmas one and all.

festivities galore

It is that time of year isn't it when folks get festive and frolicky. Every which way you turn there is a party, gathering or get together. Round our place things are triply festive focussed with not one but two birthdays and the visit from the man in red. Throw in xmas social parties and it is all cakes, booze and bad food as far as the eye can see. That healthy eating regime? Ah yes, a fond memory. Bank balance - let us not dwell where accountants fear to tally. Close eyes, hide scales and hunker down till January. That's what I'm doing. Although with this belly I can give Santa a run for his money. Ho-ho-ho. I'm crying on the inside. Well, snuffling. I may need a comfort chocolate. Quick put on a festive weepy so it can all come out. Or better yet a fab festive celebrity work out dvd. What is it with the celebs and work outs? Like it isn't enough they force themselves to live on twigs and spend twenty hours a day crunching flab and crushing abs they have to inflict their body wisdom onto us. And at Christmas no less? The cheek! Pass the mince pies nurse please.

Wee boy was first up with the Dec parties, hosting his third birthday in the pub. Cancel that call to the social care unit - we hired the function room. Two nights in a row we cooked and created in the kitchen till way past the witching hour making sure all was ready for his big day. He wanted a tractor cake - with a trailer no less - so a tractor is what he got. Took some sculpting with the butter cream icing I can tell you. For all mums wondering how to entertain wee ones who are too young to get party games proper but too old to be happy with a chew stick I can highly recommend the pinata. We got the wee man a guitar one as didn't want the moral ambiguity of encouraging him to bash an animal till it bursts. Ah the glee they attacked that poor guitar with would have Pete Townsend blushing with pride. Although giving 3 year olds a chair leg and letting them loose was not the wisest move at first - rules were swiftly established. Cancel that 999 call. Pinata burst, sweeties exploded to freedom, very happy children followed.

Tomorrow will be my turn. The mummies have formed a collective for our own 'staff Christmas party', well when you work from home ain't no one gonna do it for ya. This too will kick off in a pub, but in the adults only proper grown ups section where consumption of booze is encouraged, nay celebrated. We don't plan on bashing anything unless it's a mugger on the way home with our handbag. But a few drinks, dinner, cocktails later and child free banter will bring the perfect twinkle to the festive build up. Am I excited? Oh ya mama I am busting at the seams for bit of proper girly social frivolity. Out on the town with big tall hubby is all well and good but a night on the tiles with the ladies is what every woman needs once in a while. Make mine a double and see you for bacon sarnies when the sun comes up.

Before the hangover has a chance to subside it'll be big tall hubby's turn to raise a glass to 38 and not a few days after that we'll be toasting the arrival of Santa down the chimney up in bonny Scotland. But that's a blog for another day. Eat well, drink up and party down. And hang the expense, it's Christmas.

Who says lunch aint free?

The interweb is beautiful thing. It may have its ugly moments but then who doesn't? Even the iconic Ms Moss has been known to have her off days so this charming piece of technology can't be blamed for the darker recesses of its existence. Back in the days when a computer in every home was just a sci-fi fantasy it was always seen a source for good (that crazy film about the bonkers killer computer that traps the lady in the house aside) and it is truly wonderful that in so many ways this dream has come to pass.

A perfect and shining example of this is Freecycle. I love Freecycle. I heart it I do. If Freecycle were a person they would dress in vintage shabby chic, have tons of friends and be one of those people who is sickeningly good at everything while being super lovely ta boot. Can't say a bad word about 'em. What an amazing concept...give your stuff away for naught, get stuff for naught. Re-use, reduce, recycle. Ethical and economical? I am there. With bells on.

We've boosted our Freecycle karma with several give-aways. It amazes me that so many people want some of this stuff that might otherwise end up on the tip or in the charity collection. And the stories- seems like that people feel the need for a fair exchange and swap a peek into their life for your unwanted bits and bobs. It is so gorgeously human. I find myself doing it when I pick up things for us. Such treasures you wouldn't believe; our latest is a stunning Indian killim rug. Thanks to that rug toddler girl has truly found her feet. No more slippery laminate underfoot and she is off. Thank you Freecycle.

The best bit about it is the sense of community it offers. You meet people who live where you live. It is sociable. When the snow hit town recently Freecyle brought a tear to my eye it was so damn lovely. Up popped a giveaway of a map showing where all the grit bins lived locally. Beyond thoughtful that is; one step beyond.

The snow came and Freecycle rose to the challenge

How brain bustingly fantastic it is that in this smash & grab day and age something can spring into life that is all about doing a bit of good with no link to cash or gain. Long live Freecycle.

It is all in the planning

These days I don't leave the house without a detailed plan of action. Spontaneity has packed its bags and left in despair; utterly neglected. There are pluses and minuses to this situation. My inner twenty-something (and who over 30 does not have an inner twenty-something dissecting every move?) rages at the loss of life on the whimsy-side. Tall hubby and I walk past a pub with the pushchair in tow and pine for the days when we could have nipped inside and stayed till closing. To stay in a pub 'till closing these days demands military grade forward planning. And becoming sergeant major of the drinks brigade somewhat takes the fun out of it.

However there is much to be said for the boyscout motto 'be prepared'. From day trips to shopping trips; birthdays to Christmas, all are broken down into lists, tasks and detailed plans. Now the list thing is partly down to the fact that if a thought stays in my head for more than two minutes it counts as a minor miracle. Call it prolonged baby-brain or call it the  early onset of Alzheimer's but my memory ain't what it used to be. These days I can walk from the living room to the kitchen and forget why I've opened the fridge. An ideal excuse to nibble a slice of ham perhaps; alas not now the 'healthy eating plan' is in motion.

A real bonus to all this planning is the cost-saving; oh the chancellor would beam with pride if that face of his is capable of such a thing. I've slashed and bashed expenditure to get the most of...ooh everything...for the least money possible. With my trusty list pinned to the fridge by the giant letter A, I can track and chase Xmas goodies, hunting out the best deals and bargains. Inch by inch our Christmas delights accumulate into a fantastic feast that will make the 'healthy eating plan' quake in its boots. Ditto wee boys upcoming birthday party. And it is so much easier to enjoy it all when I know the bank is not broken (well it might have a slight hairline fracture).

The font of all wisdom...

This leads us nicely to the other big plus - stress reduction. With it all broken down to bite sized chunks life is so much easier to manage. Harangued by the demands of two small children the days slip past in a haze not dissimilar to the mild intoxication of the morning after the night before. There is no accounting for the time as it whizzes by - it just goes. But thanks to my new 'be prepared' philosophy Christmas is in the bag. Presents are bought (or made), stocking fillers acquired and Xmas tree goodies await a tree. I can sit and wait to see big grins on Xmas morning with time aplenty to relax and get festive.I don't share this to be smug (honest) but to spread the happy news that the loss of life on a whim comes with perks - its a yin-yang thing.

Christmas all wrapped up with time to spare

So while it is now impossible to head for the closest Italian at 8pm when we've realised too late we need to eat but can't be bothered with cooking we can whip out 'one I prepared earlier' as part of my monthly menu plan - which is almost (if you squint) spontaneous. The best of both worlds? Well it might just be...

Such fun.

Hey-ho here it is, 38, all bright and shiny new. Birthday glamour has a habit of fading fast but why limit yourself to just one day? The meter only clicks over once a year, let's stretch it out for as long as we can get away with eh? Gone are the days when big tall hubby and I would pack up and abscond from life as we know it for a few days; ideally somewhere sunnier. Traipsing off with wee ones in tow simple doesn't have the same fun-factor. Alas the birthday holiday will have to wait 'till there are a few more years on the clock; then the world can once more be our oyster. But do not despair! Oh no, we may be stuck in Blighty  but there is fun to be had despite the chill.

What a spoilt baby-mama I was this year. What is a birthday without a spot of fizz? My champagne tastes were indulged to the max with a sparking breakfast and presents in bed. Didn't spill a drop - can't say the same about the bacon sarnie crumbs though...Oooh presents - I just love them but what I love the most is the messages, cards texts and facebook posts that show people remember and care enough to say 'happy birthday'. It might be winter but I was all a-glow. Maybe it is just me but post babies the teeniest fleck of sentimentality gets me right in the middle.

Big tall hubby wouldn't let me cook a thing all day...so it was lunch in the pub and dinner too! ;-)

The last time we went to see Seth Lakeman play there was a baby in my belly that kicked up a fuss and made dancing a crazy fantasy. So to go see him again on my actual birthday was a treat beyond all imagining - and I have quite an active imagination. Did I dance? You bet your sweet shiny dancing shoes I did. The first gig for us since toddler girl came on the scene; methinks there will have to be a few more now the genie is out the bottle. What is it with Brighton crowds though? Was I hiding the behind the bar when the dancing ban was issued? The rebel movers and shakers seemed to naturally gather front stage right while the rest of the crowd admired the music while standing stock still. Weird.


by tarnished_glitter

Way back in the day I used to review bands, and in the spirit of me-past I must throw in a good word for the support act. Delta Maid is worth wrapping your ears around if a Scouser Dolly Parton with a roughed up Paloma Faith tingle gets your lobes flapping. She's got an amazing voice, a real country sound with a contemporary edge. If the world loves Duffy there is surely room for this lady on CD racks across the land.

And there is still more to come. Oh yes. We've had a night out, a friendly photo shoot afternoon and a Friday home dinner date with lashings of wine (healthy eating plan? Oh yes, that's next week....)Our adventures in fun-town will continue with a Sunday roast with friends to put the final touch on this year's celebrations. Then and only then will I officially be 38 and ready to rock on with the year. Rock and roll baby, rock and roll...

Annual review

Some celestial prankster is playing with the fast forward button as yet another year has skipped past with not the blink of an overtired eye. 'Tis the week of the day of my birth once more, another digit to the tally, another wrinkle on the forehead. But this time around I'm feeling older and wiser in a good way - huzzah! The challenge of life on a lemonade purse has turned into just that, not a problem, or a pain (okay sometimes a pain when I see something delectable in a shop window) but a good heartening challenge to met with a frank stare direct to the eyeball. I'm enjoying all this creative practicality; well who knew? My inner lush cowers in submission as I type.

But it isn't just me getting older (well duh!) toddler boy has morphed with a kick and a yell into my wee boy; proper cheeky mouthed rough and tumble boyhood is in full swing. As for baby girl, ah my last little fledgling has bum shuffled up the developmental ladder to official toddler status. So this year when it comes to birthday eve I might just get my indulgent bath as both wee boy and toddler girl are sleeping through (cranky pants illness induced insomnia aside) without a murmur. Such is progress.

Life is a but a dream...

And me and big tall hubby (grammar my dear, grammar) have a night on the town to look forward to; nothing too fancy mind! Tickets are already in the bag for a gig (sadly not guest list, ah those days are truly behind me) and with babysitters lined up (friends are such wonderful beings) for an early start we'll even manage dinner beforehand. Blimey O Riley I must be getting older as the prospect of dinner is just as exciting as a gig - the horror! This crazy past year we've come head to head with the unbelievable havoc that two small children can wreak on life as we know it; yet one fantastic fact as emerged; we love each other's company and relish the opportunities to indulge in it even after sleepless nights, todler tantrums and almost two decades of togetherness. That is no bad thing, no sirree bob.

So bring on the birthday; the celebrations; the extra year on the tally and the enticing promise of another year managing this lemonade purse.

Parkin for when it's parky

Sometimes life just likes to slap you about the face a bit, like a tanked up landlady at the Queen Vic it assumes you need taking down a peg or two when in fact that is the last thing you need. The weather has turned wintry and the park has turned into the last place on earth you want to visit. Beautiful autumn colours on the trees? Well yes they are but it is also freeeeeezing. Call me difficult but I just can't concentrate on the finer points of decaying foliage when my fingers are falling off. Now don't get me wrong I'm quite partial to a bit of the outdoors even when  it has turned a tad nippy in the air, but the play park is something quite different. Toddler boy loves to climb and swing and whizz about without any help from me, Channeling his inner gibbon. Baby girl is swiftly approaching toddler status too and likes nothing more than a clamber up the slide to the tree house where she'll happily sit...ooh for hours if allowed while I stand guard slowly turning into a snow woman. There is no action for the grown up. If I'm going to be outside then at least let's keep moving.

So you'd think it would be quite a relief to have an excuse to stay in for a few days. Alas not. Not when the excuse is two wee ones with nasty buglings oozing out of their noses, spraying forth in coughs and splutters and generally turning them into balls of frothing overtired temper-tots. Ah yes for with the bugs comes sleeplessness. And if they don't sleep, we don't sleep. Housebound, germ-ridden and frazzled; that's us. There is only so much Cbeebies a woman can take, while it seems small ones have an unlimited capacity for the TV twaddle.

Events were ripe for an intervention. In the time honoured tradition of frazzled mothers the world over I sought solace in the kitchen. At the very least it is warm in there. We would bake! It was a cunning plan, keep them busy, cosy warm and produce goodies to bribe them with at a later date. And that is when I found the Parkin recipe. If life was going to administer a few slaps then I'd slap it right back - wallop. Take that evil fictional pub landlady.Armed with only a mixing bowl I defeated the bad mood and ushered in contentment. Ah.Que smiles all round.

Parkin, a great taste of Yorkshire. This recipe came from a Yorkshire man too, James Martin. And as a Brucie Bonus it has hardly any butter and only 1 egg so squeezes into the 'healthy eating' regime too. Okay, I am turning a blind eye to the sugar and syrup but I've had no sleep, for days sugar is essential to my ability to function at any level approaching human...

225g self raising flour
115g caster sugar
2 tsp ground ginger ( I like to add a couple of tsp of mixed spice too)
1 tsp bicarb of soda
55g butter
115g golden syrup
1 egg
200ml milk

Preheat oven to gas mark 2 and grease an 8inch cake tin.
Melt butter and syrup in a pan on a low heat. Add to flour, caster sugar, ginger and bicarb of soda and mix well.
Whisk the egg into the milk and add to mix. Stir all up and put in cake tin.
Bake for 1 hour. Eat!

A ginger taste sensation

Boosted by the success of the parkin we've spent the rest of the week baking flapjacks, peanut butter cookies and lemon drizzle cake. Now as a germ free family we have lots of things to take to the park and nibble to fend off the chill. Of course it would be rude to indulge in cake without a coffee but rather than queue with the yummies for a frothy latte I'm kitted out with a big flask of the hardcore black stuff.

Caffeine, cake and kiddies gone crazy...bring it on.

Ta very much garden of Eden

If the Good Book is to be believed dear old Eve was tempted by the delights of the humble apple way back before temptation was even a word. And who can blame her? Well we can all blame her apparently but let us brush that aside. Round, luscious, juicy with a rosy red glow (no we're not still talking about Eve) who could resist the delights of that little fruit?

I for one would have snapped up the serpents offer and taken a big old bite. Which is why the annual Apple Festival at Middle Farm in Sussex is a true delight. Apple-fest to us regulars (get me, regular, I've been the last two years) is a big bucket of appley-fun. And the copious quantities of cider on offer only adds to the joy. Cider, now there is wonder. Apparently the true drink of England predating even our beloved beer. While it may conjure images of aggro-teens escaping the boundaries of the local park after one too many special K, or the street crazies lounging on benches with 5 gallon jugs of the supermarket own brand gut rot, cider is in fact a noble taste sensation that has graced the tables of kings (I think- hic).

Welcome to the home of the good sup cider

So I'm happy with the bars and bands on offer. Oh yes live music graces not one but two stages with hay bales galore for a true country-knees up vibe. What is a dance without straw in your hair I ask you? Hubby has the short straw (no pun intended) of designated driver but compensates with hog roasts and pork sausages so he's happy. Actually so am I, the hog roast is a proper whole pig spit roasted on site and worth the 20 minute queue. Granny joins me in the festivities with a sip or two of the 'grown's up apple juice' and the wee ones have the best deal of all with a funfair, farm animals, fluffy bunnies and a play park to enjoy, washed down with lashing of freshly pressed apple juice. Lest we forget there is also ice cream, cake and toffee apples on offer to ensure they have enough sugar energy to make the most of all the entertainment on offer.

The market stalls proffer rosy balls of apple delight, all locally grown age old varieties your supermarkets rarely provide at a mere £1.99 a kilo which isn't a bad deal at all. Then you have the cheese, pork pies, sausages, chutneys and jams. All local produce and all delicious to the last. If it has apple in it you'll find it here. Cream of the crop for sure.

Temptation in a box

My mission as this blog states is to satisfy hearts, minds and tummies on a budget. With under 12's going in for free it cost a mere £20 for us to get in, plus a little extra for the fun stuff inside (not to mention the bar bill) but it is worth every penny. This mini festival hits every spot for all the family and is the perfect practice run for a great big summer festival which is the aim next year. Of course we'll be hitting the apples again too.

the best things in life

Cliche alert but the best things in life really are free. Especially when they come in the form of a top roast dinner washed down with a few glasses of vino.

Much thanks to the brother-in-law for a tasty treat, which whole family enjoyed. It was an afternoon well spent, toddler boy much amused and adults suitably lubricated by the grape and the hop. Must be a sign of old age but I'm getting to the point of finding time with family a pleasure above most others.

And on the budget front it was a total winner of a day with zero pence spent. Yes zero pence. Unbelievable.