Nursery tea with tomato sauce and peas.

Peas were always passengers, because they flew on the aeroplane fork into the mouth.  George's food generally just flew into the carpet, Sam's hair, the wall etc.  We used to get through industrial quantities of tomato sauce.  It was difficult to find the really large bottles in the supermarket, so we had several in storage waiting just in case we ran out.  It was not a good idea to run out...

I still haven't got the knack of putting the conversation bubbles in the right order!

Although George had dyspraxia, we didn't know at the time, so I followed the rules and let him eat by himself, which was terribly messy.  He needed a good long soak to get the Weetabix out of the crevices and his hair every day.  I remember that at least half of his food accidents were just plain naughty throwing and playing.  Sigh.

Jim used to go shopping on his way home every night to get tea for us.  I was only responsible for the nursery tea which was not interesting or rewarding.  George was not always a good sleeper especially if he felt that he could get more milk out of me or Jim. He so loved his milk!  I suppose he was building his enormous bones ready for later.

I was happy to let Jim cook in those days, although even then I had reservations about us eating separately from the children.  We couldn't have done much about it because Jim didn't get home until after they were in bed most evenings. Dinner was an important relaxation time for him so I let it slide until it became the norm.  We ate together at the weekends and on holiday, but it was always a bit stressful.  Kids simply don't enjoy long leisurely meals.  I wonder how the Italians do it?

Indoor garden viewing

Another episode in the garden story.  Everything is very late.  I have no idea how the Chelsea Flower show gardens managed to get their foxgloves out in time.  Mine are still quite short and green.

Today the irises are at their best.  It is going to rain tonight so this will be the peak, with no messy bits!  It is so cold here today and the garden is not inviting unless viewed through a window with a cup of tea in hand.  It did look pretty, early this morning before work, so I rushed out and took a few photos before the weather closes in again.  I really wished I hadn't put my winter coat in the loft!

In the border I have rather too many poppies.  I can't bear to dig them up and they are slowly taking over.  The forget-me-nots are just finishing and you can see foxgloves dotted about that are still green and stubby.   The two trees are viburnum which is going to get a severe haircut this year, and a pink flowering tree which I think is a hibiscus.  I know it has no manners and comes up everywhere.  I also have very spiky teasels (likewise bad mannered) and Canterbury bells which I love.  I try off and on to grow hollyhocks but they always look so scraggy with rust that I can't appreciate them.  There is a bay tree to the left which was in a pot.  It is now in the border and has started to grow in an alarming manner.  I have an idea they can get pretty large so I will have to have a really generous bay wreath for the front door next Christmas.

This is the border on the other side of the garden.  It is west facing.  I went a bit mad on wallflowers this year.  They have such a lovely perfume and last so long.  When I was little I remember Mum buying them in the autumn in the greengrocers  in muddy bundles.  We have just acquired a brand new greengrocers in the High Street, having been without one for 10 years.  I have great hopes that  he will stock marmalade oranges and wallflowers in due season.

The bundle of sticks is the kindling drying out in a decorative fashion for next year.  Hardly anyone has an open fire now in London, and using wood is carbon neutral as long as you grow more to replace it.  I do use smokeless coal though, to avoid encouraging smog.  I can remember not being able to see across the road on foggy days in the 70s when more people used coal.  Mum came to London from the Welsh borders in 1952 and remembers a true smog.  She said she went to the cinema and couldn't see the film.  All her clothes turned yellow at the edges with the sulphur in the air. Air quality now is much better, or at least, the dirt is less visible!  I must admit I used to find fogs quite exciting on the way to school,  especially crossing the road and losing the the direction of the other side!  I'm rambling, I think it's bedtime!

Shopping and near misses.

I used to take the children to Hounslow shopping centre from time to time with Mum.  We used to have tea (again!) in Woolworths and give the children a ride on the roundabout in the shopping centre.  The bargain was that they got off when asked without complaining.  A couple of times they made a fuss and we went back the next day and I wouldn't let them ride.  They only did it once or twice before they realised I meant it.  We didn't stay long, small children and shops really don't mix very well.

Sam, being a fairly mercenary child on occasion, would try his luck with any relative who might be willing to buy him something.  Not me though.  I was two things. Mean, and skint!

I was actually quite nice to the children, but playing games and reading and running round in the park is not interesting in cartoon form!

George knew no fear, climbing all over stuff and generally being intrepid.  Consequently he was often trapped in a safe room while I got the groceries out of the car down the road.  He really didn't like it!  One time he escaped under the stairgate which wasn't properly tightened.  He was just able to walk, but still very wobbly.  I had gone to the loo and when I came back he was gone.

My frantic calling produced a happy giggle from George, and there he was, teetering at the top of our very steep staircase, with a mouth full of tiny Lego bricks from Sam's room.  As  I approached he tried to run away from me and I just caught him before he tumbled down the stairs.  I did manage to get the Lego out of his mouth before he choked, and judging by his nappies, he didn't swallow any.  One of many near misses with a gung-ho but clumsy toddler!

I shiver when I look back!  After 10 years in a school I am now almost too conscious of health and safety!  I think we are better at preventing everyday accidents and things like stairgates are more carefully designed than 20 years ago.  I do wonder about how much we curtail kids' freedom to explore and get dirty though.  I am sure making mud pies is good for the spirit!

Tonsillitis, cats, tea and cake

George had a real penchant for eating horrid things like shoes.  He was a very sucky and mouthy baby, he led with his tongue, a bit like our dog does now!  He used to dribble a lot too.  I thought it was teething or something, but no.

We had a lovely black cat called Kippen whose food was generally put out of reach, but his water was left on the floor all the time.  I had no idea the baby was drinking his water, but from the time he could get around, that's what he did.  Yuck.  He used to get tonsillitis about every 5 weeks for the 2nd year of his life.  We would trot off to the doctor every time his temperature hit 102 degrees, and be prescribed antibiotics.  What with Sam and his heart, and George and his tonsils, I used to be recognised by voice by the doctor's appointment secretaries.

The week the cat took sick and had to be put down, George was back at the doctor's.  "Do you have a cat?" said the doctor.  "not since yesterday"  I replied.  "Probably won't happen again then" , said the doctor.  He was right;

George never got another bad throat.

I don't know what it is about tea.  My Mum describes it as the universal panacea.  I would agree.  There are not many things that won't be helped by a really good cup of tea.  Even if things are going well, tea lifts the day to a new level.  This is especially true if you add cake.

Today at school we had a bake off, where all the staff were invited to bring and share a cake at lunch time. There were prizes for the prettiest and tastiest.  My friend and I provide the tea and coffee (or in some stubborn cases, hot ribena).  We have over 70 staff in our school and we had far more cake than we could decently eat in one lunch time.  We ate it all anyway.  I am not sure how many teachers suffered from the crash and burn of too much sugar followed by teaching a class of thirty.  Quite a few I would think!  I daresay we will find out tomorrow...  Mind you we got through at least 90 cups of tea and you have to hope that those who were properly fortified in that way would be able to manage the sugar low more easily.

Normal life continues. School beckons.

Mummy collects Sam from nursery.

Sam had a lovely time at nursery school.  He was looked after beautifully by the teachers and dinner ladies.  In fact they looked after him better than I did.

He was very picky about food after leaving hospital and would only eat a few things which could be packed into a lunch box.  He wouldn't touch the school dinners provided either.  One day I sent him in (as ordered by Sam) with a satsuma and a mince pie and a carton of milk.  Calorie wise, it was probably OK, but the school were not impressed.  "We can't find Sam's lunch"  the dinner lady complained on the phone.  "We can only find a cake and an orange."  Oops.

After an embarrassing meeting they offered to cook my home made burghers with peas and rice and keep him a bottle of tomato sauce in the school kitchen.  Sam was on cloud 9 and started to put on weight again.  I was pleased but I had a sneaking suspicion I had been out manoeuvred by a 4 year old!

Why are children obsessed with poo?  I can't fathom it.  In my view it has no redeeming features at all.  Particularly when tracked through the house on the buggy wheels.

Sam's school had a uniform policy which was unusual for a state school.  The boys had to wear grey flannel shorts summer and winter.  Mainly this just resulted in chapped knees, but for Sam it was a disaster.  In really cold weather he was allowed to wear track suit trousers over his shorts on the way in, but he had to take them off when he was at school.  One day mid morning, I got a call from his teacher to say could I come and get him and to bring a hot water bottle.  Despite being sat on the radiator all morning, he was still a rather interesting air force blue.  After that he was allowed to wear long trousers.  Soon after, they changed the uniform policy.  Sam was pleased.  He never did like to be different!

The phone calls home were a regular feature.   I couldn't have held down a regular job even if I had wanted to.  I was really fortunate that my friends were willing to swap babysitting.   One was a nurse and had three under 5s to look after.  She would even come if Sam was a bit off colour.  On the downside, I babysat her three when the twins had chickenpox.  Not a fun evening!

Gardening leave

When it was cold and wet, I wrote a blog, which seemed like a good idea.  I still think it is a good idea, but I have been gardening this week so here is a quick update.

After we got a dog, it mainly rained for a year  - something to do with the Jet Stream being too far north.  I don't think the dog was involved in the weather, but he galloped around in the garden and pooped everywhere.  The grass got very tall in the constant rain, then large patches of it died of dog.

He is, however, very cute, so I have forgiven him now we have a dog proof fence to stop him galloping on the flowers.  It has also stopped raining and what is more, it is quite warm.   At last!

So



I cut the grass.






The apples blossomed

which is nice, because last year was their year off.  I didn't realise they would both choose the same year when I bought them, so every other year we have to buy apples.

I trained this tree which is a pitmaston pineapple into an S shape so that it would blossom more.  It is doing well this year, maybe because of all the rain.  It has tiny yellow apples which taste - you guessed it  -of pineapples.  They mostly taste of apples so they are not strange, just a bit unusual.

There are Oregon Thornless blackberries growing over the arch.  I am so glad they are thornless because they grow 16ft or so a year, and this weekend I was wrestling with the stems, trying to tie them in so that they didn't take over the world.  In the background is an elder tree which I use to make elderberry syrup for colds.  It's very effective and also strangely expensive for something made out of a hedgerow plant.  If you buy it in the health food shop it costs about  £8.00 for 120ml (or $12 for 4fl oz if you are in the USA).  I generally make it by the wine bottle full - which are great for preserving since screw tops came in.

This is a box tree.  My other half says its a pear, but we will have to see what happens when I next trim it.  I haven't decided.

It's so exciting making topiary!  It might turn into a rocket, or maybe some kind of hat.  Who knows?  Watch this space!

Housework is like painting the Forth bridge? Is that bad?

I actually quite like housework.  No, really.  I don't mind the Forth bridge aspect of it.  It gives it a kind of rhythm, like the seasons.  I am not too keen on washing up and I don't much like ironing, but generally, cleaning is something I find restful. I also like turning out cupboards.  

As a child Mum used to let me mooch through a drawer of odds and ends, or tidy the sewing box.  I have a vague memory of doing this after I had had measles or mumps or some other ghastly disease.  (Thank goodness now for MMR vaccinations!)  We had a big old wing-backed armchair with wooden arms just the right size for a tray to be rested across.  Propped up with pillows and swathed in an eiderdown, I would be brought something interesting to do that could be done on a tin tray.  I seem to remember "Listen with Mother" being on the radio at the same time, but who knows, what with the mists of time and all.  Anyway, I digress, the point is, I like bringing order out of chaos, and making things clean.

When young, I was never a particularly good housewife, the house was very untidy and often a bit dirty round the edges.  I say that was mainly lack of time, not inclination!  Now that I am grown up enough, and working again, I sometimes have a cleaner.  I don't really like it because the cleaner doesn't do it the way I would, so I feel niggled and wish it were done properly.  I have tried to work out why I mind, and whether it would be OK if I found a cleaner who did it exactly to my standards.  I have finally concluded that I am so picky because I would much rather do it myself.  So there.  I am out!

This is a picture of an almost totally ineffective hoover.  As all can see, the dust is emerging in clouds from both ends of the machine.  The only good thing about it, is that Sam had an identical toy model, which he thought really worked.  Sadly I got rid of it before he grew into the real thing.

I think I put these pictures in to camoflage the large amount of time I spent playing about with the children or surreptitiously reading books of no particular use.   I gloss over the fact that I clearly spent a fair bit of my time drawing cartoons... I enjoyed being at home so much I felt guilty!  There are not many jobs where you can play with Lego all afternoon without being fired.

Gardening is something I love.  You can tell because I will even garden in the pouring rain - I know this really happened because I remember that lupin.  Jim is very fond of lupins so despite the ravages of slugs and lupin aphids, I try to grow some every year.  It wasn't quite that colour but my purple pencil broke, and I had the blue sharp for the jumper stripes.

I am better about weeds now, apart from dandelions.  Dandelions and giant japanese knotweed.  Someone once told me we should enjoy dandelions because they would be really valuable if they were rare.  But they are not, so we don't have to.

Giant japanese knotweed can tunnel under 6 lanes of motorway.  No one told the knotweed about motorways, so instead it took up residence under my shed, and tried to tunnel under everything in the garden.  Every spring it would surge out of the ground, growing at a frightful rate.  I swear you could see it getting bigger.  I would hack at it daily, but all that would really slow it down was glyphosate poured into the cut stems every day.
I feel that roadbuilders have missed a trick somehow.