I love having the children around for half term. I really do. They are such funny people to be around. I have all the excuses I need to join in their fun and release my own inner child. (I present witches’ cauldrons and ghost biscuits as evidence. Boo!)
Ok. It’s not all roses. There are squabbles, but that’s all part of growing up, right? And where better to learn how to get on with people, than with your own siblings. The acquisiton of some life skills are nosier affairs than others. I’m putting this one fair and square in that box.
Between you and me, there are times I need to sneak off. Grab a bit of me-time. Either sewing or reading, seem to do the trick.
A couple of weeks ago, I tidied the pile of books beside my bed. Had to be done. It was at serious risk of toppling over. Some books went into the charity bag. Realistically never going to read. The rest were lined up on a shelf. Hazard averted.
The beauty of a good tidy up is that gems are rediscovered. They almost feel like new books again. I’ve made time to read. I’ve finished The Trouble with Goats and Sheep. I enjoyed it. Took a while to get into as I needed more than a few minutes grabbed, to follow all the hopping around on the timeline.
It is cleverly written. Mainly told through the words of a 10 year old girl, where sometimes she says enough for the reader to understand, but she misses the point completely herself. It is set in 1976, during the heatwave. Sprinkled with references for us that grew up in the 70s. Ah yes, a few “I remember” moments, plus a few “really? I don’t remember that“. There are a couple of twists at the end, which are perfect. Continue reading
OK. I think this may be a first for me. Never shown before. Correct me if I’m wrong, by all means, but I don’t think I’ve ever included a photo of the contents of my wardrobe. Here it is, in all its glory. Talk about keeping it real.
There is a purpose to my sharing. I’m not being completely random, although that wouldn’t be anything new, of course. Nor have I run out of other thing to write about. Poor gal, she’s got nothing left to say. She’ll be showing us the contents of her bin or compost next.
No, I’m sharing because every time I open my wardrobe, I smile. It’s the colours, patterns and knowing that most of the clothes hanging up there, were made by me. By my own fair hands. A real handmade wardrobe is emerging. Best of all, I’m wearing most of them on a regular basis. In fact, looking at the photo now, I can spot a few items that must be in the wash and missed this moment.
I love opening my wardrobe each morning. “What shall I wear?” has become a more joyful, sing-songy question recently. I really do smile. A good start to the morning.
Incidently, am I the only one who has a partner that will unerringly reply “clothes”, when they hear that particular question? As if I was eyeing up the suit dust cover or a duvet slip as a possible option. Maybe one day I should. Just to see his reaction. Continue reading
A dull and dreary day at the cottage. Not helped that all three children have trooped back to school today. I miss having them under my feet. It’s too quiet. Where is the sound of
squabbling irrepressible giggles from downstairs?
I’m not sure the fridge light is working. I can’t see it anymore when I open the door. There are cartons of juice and a bowl of tomatoes blocking my view. Sigh. Another sign that the children are elsewhere. The fridge has not emptied within minutes of them waking.