Christmas is coming...

Finally. Finally I get a moment to scribble something down. Life for us has been so totally crazy. But dear husband has taken the children to his office today. Hurrah! They were so excited, and he was so hungover (ha ha!). 'Can't you keep Cici' (she's 2) he pleads. 'No, I'm having a break!' So here I am. I've done 3 loads of washing, washed my hair, booked tickets for the Christmas pantomime for my entire family, emailed the builder, emailed the estate agent, and now I can write this. I had intended to have a 'me' day. I don't know - take a book to the coffee shop and read decadently all morning, or go to the beautician and get a massage or manicure, or have a long lazy bath. But the reality is: presents need wrapping, food needs cooking (dinner party of 8 tonight), clothes need washing and packing, and someone needs to be here this morning so as not to miss Mr Amazon delivery (possibly one of the most annoying things at Christmas time is to have to got to the post office with one of those No One was Home notes).

Why so crazy? Well, the house sale was meant to exchange before Christmas. Our mortgage was supposed to be totally portable, until some new whipper snapper who has never dealt with us before, suddenly told us we needed to repay a rather large chunk. The rather large chunk needed to do renovations to the next property. To cut a long story short, it is all sorted now, but it took a lot of negotiating and someone different from the bank, who knows our history, to help out. So the survey was delayed, and the exchange is delayed. In the meantime, the people buying our house chose to do a full survey. The guy was here for 3 hours! Our house is in good condition, and there were a few tiny things that he picked up. Of course, the people buying it, have come back to us saying they want all these things rectified. These are not structural things, but tiny things that happen in old houses. So I said no. They can do it themselves, or at least I'll do it, if they pay for it. I've just got to the end of my tether having to be oh so understanding regarding the poor condition of the house we are buying, and yet kowtowing to the people buying ours... I'm waiting to hear back... 

Then there is Christmas! Christmas is a busy time in our family. I LOVE it. It is my most favourite time of year. The Christmas tree is up on December 1st without fail. This year I bought a plastic one for the children's playroom, and a real one for the sitting room. We wanted a 10ft one, so bought one of the old fashioned type ones that smell good but lose their needles (£30 versus £100 for a non-drop). It is standing tall, and looking fabulous, but if you are as to so much sneeze or even breathe near it, a shower of needles descend. My carpet now looks like green fuzz and I've nearly destroyed my dustbuster. But I don't care, it looks awesome! The rest of the house is covered in garlands and fairy lights, nativity scenes and christmas scented candles. I've even discovered a radio channel called Smooth Christmas, that plays Christmas tunes all day long. My aupair is about ready to shoot the radio (or me), but I love it!

And at Christmas time, come Christmas parties. I am officially beat. We hosted a party last Friday. Me and my great buddy made lots of canapes, and we served champagne all night. I wore my party frock and some seriously high sparkly shoes courtesy of TKMaxx (love a bargain), and everyone seemed to have a great time. It was a lovely mix of people, and everyone made a great effort to mingle. Bed finally beckoned at a rather champagne hazy 2.30am. The next day: DVDs and chilling? Oh No... Cici's 2nd birthday party: 15 ankle biters and parents, pass the parcel, musical statues, lots of screaming, and a very badly behaved 3 year old son. The glorious haze of champagne fading into a dull headache. Last man left at 6.30pm, at which we hurriedly shoved the children in bed and got dolled up for another party. Like torture - the taunt of the Strictly Come Dancing Final (did I mention we saw Harry and Aliona training at our local gym, swoon) and the sofa, rather than another party frock and perilously high heels.

Sunday, the official day of rest? No. Lunch party for Dom's sister's birthday. Eyes needing matchsticks to hold them open. Monday should have been recovery except the children, all of them, decided not to sleep. All night. It was like musical beds. Tuesday - Drinks Party. Wednesday - Birthday Drinks Party. Last night? Cooking for the dinner party tonight as Dom was out with work. We are exhausted!

But Christmas is coming! We will see all my family. We're going to the Panto for the first time ever with the children. We will go Church, eat loads, and open lots of wonderful gifts. It's a time of open fires and winter walks and family and friends. The children are totally enthralled by the magic of Christmas - it's a very special time. And did I mention? I love it!

Let me leave you with a couple of interesting shots:

Dom passed out under the Christmas tree at 3.30am after a boy's dinner. I turned the lights off and left him there of course (then went to bed giggling about how he'll wake up a stick his head right in the tree!).

Cici at her birthday party looking very crossly at someone eating her crisps. Like her mother, she likes jewellery.

And a close up of our tree.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE, I'll blog back in the New Year. 

Mx

Remembrance Sunday - Granny's memories

Today is Remembrance Sunday. A sad day and a day of celebration. We celebrate our freedom. We grieve our lost ones. We remember. 

For the children, it is quite hard to comprehend. Leonora is studying the Romans at school, so as she understands it, we are remembering the Roman soldiers who rebuilt our towns. For the time being, I'll leave it at that, she can enjoy the innocence of childhood. At least they know it's a special day. And rather well timed, we came out of church and bumped into a Remembrance Parade, with soldiers from various regiments and a brass band. The children thought this was quite spectacular - Cici doing a little jiggle dance in her buggy, Leonora jumping up and down, and Johnny waving from Dom's shoulders. It was another example of the things the Brits do well, and in this case, so we should.

So for today, my little way of remembering was to ask Granny for some stories of the war and her childhood. I always find talking to her makes me realise how lucky our generation have been, and how much we take for granted...

Here are a couple of her stories:

When Granny was a little girl there was a lady in the local shoe shop who only had one hand. This used to bemuse her, as when the lady went to fetch shoes out the box, she would hold them with her stump of her arm. One night during the War she dreamt of this lady. The following morning she spoke to her mother about this, making light of her dream, and imitating the lady from the shop. "You are a wicked girl!" her mother laughed. Suddenly the telephone rang. It was Grandpa calling unexpectedly from North Africa. Calling to tell Granny he had had his hand blown off. Strangely Granny said she was almost expecting it. It was as if her dream had been a warning, so that in some sort of a way she was prepared for the news.

Before the War, Granny used to live in Westgate. She was a bit of a tomboy really, and most of her friends were boys. Out of this group of friends, her 'partner in crime' as she describes him, was a boy called John O. One day, a large group of them set out to have a picnic. Granny sat on the handlebars of John's bike, holding on to the picnic. As they cycled along the cliff edge, John suddenly lost control and they went over the side. Thankfully not the steepest part, but nonetheless the bike went bumping furiously down the side, with Granny still clutching the picnic and desperately attempting not to fall off the bike. When they finally came to a stop in a heap on the ground, with John declaring 'I bet you've broken the eggs', they got back on to their feet, brushed off the twigs, and went to join the others. Granny's wrist was a little sore, but she didn't want to miss out on the picnic. After lunch, the boys, who had brought a pellet gun and a target with them, practised shooting whilst Granny helped pack up. Suddenly a yell was heard, as one of the boys had managed to shoot John in the elbow. They all set off back home, Granny with her sore wrist and John with his sore elbow. 

As soon as her parents took one look at her injury, her mother declared "Oh goodness I never thought I'd have these problems with girls! Always in trouble!', whilst her father merely said 'You know you are going to be deformed for life, don't you?'. The next morning they decided it would be wise to go to the hospital and make sure everything was OK. There, sitting in the waiting room, was John with his shot-at elbow! 

It turned out that Granny had in fact broken her wrist, but fortunately there was no lasting injury! As for John, he was fine, and their friendship continued until the War... 

After that she never heard from him again. He, and 3 others from their group, never came home. 

On the topic of friends, Granny had one good girlfriend called Peggy. Peggy used to be totally bemused by Granny, "Bobby, I simply cannot understand it, you have all these boyfriends when you are not at all pretty!".

However, a man in the chemist once said to her "You have such a beautiful smile, you will break so many hearts."

I think the latter is more fitting. (Incidentally, Granny is extremely pretty, and always was, although I must admit, it's that cheeky personality and twinkle in her eye that really makes her who she is!)

Granny has a wonderful poem she used to recite as a little girl:

If no one ever marries me,
And I don't see why they should,
Nurse says I'm not pretty
And I'm seldom very good.

If no one ever marries me,
I wont mind very much,
I'll buy a little rabbit
In a little rabbit hutch.

And when I'm getting very old,
About twenty eight or nine,
I'll buy a little orphan girl,
And bring her up as mine!"

(I have found this on the internet, and for the full version, look at this link. Granny remembers it slightly differently. http://www.nataliemerchant.com/r/leave-your-sleep/lyrics/if-no-one-ever-marries-me)

As a little girl, Granny's mother had an elderly friend who was hard of hearing, so used one of those old-fashioned ear trumpets. Granny was asked to recite her poem to the lady, nice and clearly. So she went up to the trumpet, took a deep breath, and yelled ' IF NO ONE EVER MARRIES ME...'. The poor old lady leapt out of her chair in shock, and Granny was, yet again, in trouble.

So there are a few funny and sad memories, on this special day. It makes me think how every day we are creating our own memories. How important it is to enjoy our friendships, enjoy our families, and be thankful for what we have.

We are so grateful to those who gave up so much, and those who continue to give up so much, so that we can live in safety and peace.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, Rest in Peace.

Mx

Trick or Treat!

It would be remiss to go without posting something about Halloween. My little Black Cat, smaller Wizard, and smallest of all, Little Witch have had a wonderful evening Trick or Treating with their cousins. 

We live in a great street with lots of young families, and an sprinkling of the older generation, who embrace all things community spirited. Halloween is one of those times. A little note is popped through the door indicating that Trick or Treating will take place between 5.30 and 7pm, and if you wish to participate, please leave a Jack-o-Lantern outside your door. We also live on a street with a huge mix of nationalities - one of the things I love most about living in London. When it comes to Halloween, you can always spot the Americans. Their houses are totally covered in cobwebs and spiders, with a selection of magnificently carved pumpkins lining their walls and invariably a skeleton or witch hiding amongst the mele. One of my friends reported that their American neighbour had built a graveyard in their front porch, complete with a door mat that groaned as you step on it! The Europeans are less adventurous, but perhaps more understated, with chic decorations and one magnificent pumpkin. As for the Brits, well we just do with what we've got. Usually a large selection of home made stuff, mixed amongst a few pumpkins varying from excellent to really rather rubbish (I speak here in general, not wanting to offend any Brit who has a penchant for decorating their house and/or pumpkins, or any American who doesn't!). However we excel when it comes to fancy dress. There's no getting away with a simple hat or a mask. No, we Brits have the whole chebang: full costume, hat, face paint, wig, accessories, perhaps some glow sticks, and a large bucket for sweets. Our street is renowned for participating on Halloween, and we always get children from all around the borough coming to us and the neighbouring roads. Booty is bountiful, and this evening the children, hoarse with the excitement of yelling 'Happy Halloween!' came home with even more sweets than we distributed. Rather amusingly, Cici (22 months) came home with the most - her little mitts clearly having been forgiven for grabbing handfuls - hardly surprising as she does come out with the cutest 'DaaDoo' (thank you). I love this time of year - everything is so exciting for the children and there is nothing better than seeing that joy on their faces (along with smeared chocolate and congealed lollies).

I also took the opportunity today to do something with the pumpkin. Every year we make the lanterns, and I wonder what to do with the left over pumpkin flesh. I had some defrosted chicken breasts that needed eating, so did a google search for Chicken and Pumpkin dishes and came up with the following:

http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/1079/chicken-with-pumpkin-and-chickpeas

It was very easy to make and tasted delicious, although the recipe does not mention salt, and I definitely think it needed some, so I added it to mine whilst cooking. Harissa is quite hard to find (Waitrose prob best bet), but if you added some chilli flakes I think it would still be nice. I was lucky enough to get some from a very foodie local friend of mine. I served it with rice, but it would be lovely with cous cous too.

Keeping in the theme of the evening, my little sister Lydia described it as "Entrails with Eyeballs and Flaked Frog Skin, served on a bed of Maggots". Picture below - you decide!

Mx

HALF TERM arrgggghh - Stage 2 and teeth

Finally it is Sunday evening, the children are in bed, Half Term is over.

Strangely, after the initial panic of 'how will I entertain them?', it has been a really good one. We were lucky enough to be invited to stay with one of my best buddies in her parents' house in Aldeburgh - husbands left in London. For those of you who might not have been before, Aldeburgh is a seaside town in Suffolk (north east of London). It is a pain to get to from the Capital, as you have to pass through the City (the confusingly named business district of London for any foreign readers) and take A roads all the way there: a journey that is short in miles and long in hours. But boy is it worth it! A pretty town teeming with lovely little shops and wonderful art galleries, with the North Sea running parallel to the High Street and deliciously fresh air blustering around you. It also helps that the house we were staying in is beautiful: deceptively large with stunning views across marshland to the sea. Our children get on very well, being similar ages, and they had a whale of a time. We visited the local sports centre with children's play area, the local farm (wonderful!) with animals to feed, rabbits to cuddle, and tractors to pull you along and we went to the (pebbly) beach to paddle in the sea. In the evenings my friend and I sipped wine and put the world to right. It was great, but exhausting. 

Returning to London late Thursday afternoon, the question in the back of the car arose 'What are we doing tomorrow?'... 'Play with your toys and do your homework!' I barked ... But actually we again had the good fortune of being invited to a Halloween party at a local gym with some of Leonora's friends. What is more, no parental guidance needed! (Don't get too excited, it means I got to do the washing.)

Friday slipped into Saturday, and bad behaviour from Johnny meant he missed biscuit decorating in fancy dress organised by a local shop (sometimes I love local shops!). Today entailed Church, checking out the local Farmer's Market, a fly by visit to the Fun Fair on the Green, me cooking a roast (sucker for punishment), pumpkin decorating ready for tomorrow, and a visit from uncles and aunts. I forget to mention that the clocks went back, so we had an extra hour in bed (theoretically. The reality is that the children wake up at the same time, and come and pester you to get up anyway). Fortuitous in my case, as I got to Skype my best friend in Australia, which was wonderful and a great reminder of the power of technology to cross Oceans and time.

So Sunday evening is here. However, I am feeling sad. We had a momentous moment at bed time. Leonora has her first wobbly tooth! She was so excited. Dancing around her bedroom like a maniac, and pulling all sorts of strange faces as she fiddled with the tooth with her tongue. But me, I feel like my baby is slipping away. Five and a quarter, as she likes to say (although more like a half) - she's growing up. And she's so desperate to be grown up, whereas I would love to reverse the years and do it all again. I know there will be many more special times to come, and I look forward to watching her grow into a fine adult, but I have a heavy heart today.

Mx

Not wanting to leave on a gloomy note, here are our pumpkins and my wobbly-toothed girl with her little sister at the fair today:

Paparazzi family wedding!

I am feeling a little jaded today, with unexplained blisters on my feet and eye makeup still smudged around my eyes despite the makeup remover. My palate has that rather furry residue that no amount of teeth brushing or water drinking can help. And my bedroom looks like Hurricane Katrina's been there. I hate to admit it, I'm hungover.

But boy was worth it! We went to my husband's cousin's wedding yesterday. Nick is one of my favourite of Dom's cousins, really funny and kind hearted and not too shabby looking either. He has married the most strikingly beautiful Nigerian girl, Natasha, who is equally as lovely, and I think they will be really happy together (and if they are lucky enough to have children, they will be GORGEOUS!). 

Their wedding took place at the crypt in St Paul's Cathedral, and yes, it was in all the papers! You may have heard about the anti-capitalist protesters that are camping outside, which has triggered the closure of the Cathedral for the first time since the War. The protesters are actually peaceful, but according to one of the church wardens, they have had to close due to insurance liability given that the campers have gas cookers, cigarettes and candles etc. Which means an enormous amount of money from tourism is being lost - vital money to maintain the upkeep of this magnificent building. Nick's wedding hit the papers because it was allowed to go ahead, despite the closure. The ceremony took place in the CBE chapel, as Natasha's mother was bestowed this honour by the Queen in 2008 for services to business.

Upon arrival we had to step over a rainbow of tents, with a few whistles about our dressed-up attire, but thankfully the protestors were not particularly interested in us. The tourists, however, were a different story. Given the disappointment of finding the Cathedral closed, they were delighted to find a wedding taking place, the scrum of newspaper photographers leading them to believe it must be a celebrity wedding. This point only enforced by Natasha's glamourous relations who wore the family's traditional colour of purple, with huge scarves and bold headdresses. "Who are they?" we heard whispered several times, the foreign students rubbing shoulders with the paparazzi to take a picture with their mobile phones. At one point the groom had to point out that he would like his photographer to have the prime spot if it wasn't too much trouble! To top it off, there was a beautiful horse-drawn Young's brewery dray to take the bride and groom to the reception. So the tourists might not have seen the magnificent dome of the Cathedral, but they got to see history in the making instead.

The reception was wonderful. Held at the Plaisterer's Hall (a livery company like the Skinners, but originating from plasterers), it was interesting to see such a modern facade and a traditional interior: a fantastic venue for a wedding. Nick and Natasha were welcomed in for the delicious dinner by an incredible Gospel choir, which set the tone for the rest of the evening. After dinner, the "Chief" (tribal head from Nigeria) opened the speeches with heartfelt memories of Tash and her sisters as children. The best man was perfect blend of funny yet tasteful, the groom made his mother cry (in a good way), and the father of the bride made the bride cry (also in a good way). After seeing Nick do his choreographed first dance (bless), and the rather lovely second dance celebrating mothers (I think we should steal that tradition), it was time for everyone to hit the floor.

The old adage that black men can dance is so true! My goodness, the most striking British Nigerians shaking their stuff on the dance floor, putting all the white men to shame. Handsome, athletic and with such natural rhythm - even Tash's 5 year old nephew kicked ass! Me, being a fan of the odd boogie, especially when plied with copious amounts of champagne and wine, I decided to get in there with the Chief's son (purely in a boogying way), and spent the rest of the evening swooning over the Nigerian Adonis whilst Dom just raised his eyes to heaven frequently (one of the many things I love about him).

Carriages at midnight, and a rather disappointing fly-by Macdonalds only to find it closed (me, sober?) we arrived home with a beautiful arrangement of flowers from the table (I was allowed to take them!) and extremely sore feet (strange how you don't notice till you get home).

To conclude:

a) I am lucky to be married into one of the best families ever. I love Dom's cousins, aunts and uncles, I love his parents and I love him.

b) It was one of the best weddings I've ever been to. Traditional yet different, and a great DJ!

c) Drinking lots of water before bed is a good plan.

d) Why was I not interviewed by Sky News? I am feeling very put out!