Garden flowers

I've been ribbing Thomas a bit all week about his having planted what looks like large chives all round the place. But I have to admit that once I had taken them with my 300mm lens, I was more than impressed with their delicate beauty. And given my herb patch is full of chives, I can see now that they are really quite different!

Bluebells

There seem to be a lot of bluebells in my garden this year. Something has to survive in this climate I guess. I'm enjoying taking photos of them. I hadn't noticed with the naked eye that the pale pink ones still have a blue stripe in each bud, it it was clearly visible in the shots with the 300mm macro. Pretty!

Anna's eyes

On the rare occasion Anna doesn't have her glasses on, the fact that her eyes aren't the same colour as each other is much more apparent. The right one is definitely much greener, the left more brown, though both are individually sectorially heterochromiac.

Secretly I wish she didn't need the glasses, because although they are cute, I find her eyes much more fascinating to look at without that distraction.

Still very much in her life

I was scared when dad died nearly 13 months ago that Amaia would lose her memory of him fairly quickly but she astounds me for such a small child. It had been a warm morning today, 22 degrees, so her group had gone for a walk around the woods. I went to collect her at lunchtime and she was clutching two fir cones, or pinkles as she calls them - isn't it a cute word!? Quite matter-of-fact she announced 'I got two pinkles today. I'm going to give the big one to Granny, but I got a little one too in case Pumpa is back'. I don't know what to say.

Poor baby

Charlotte had her braces put on today. Unlike her brother who has a tiny mouth with no space for his 28 teeth, so needed four taken out, Lots has a huge mouth with lovely straight teeth. Unfortunately a routine x-ray showed up that 4 of her adult teeth were missing. Of course, at first the dentist suggested we just leave the baby ones in as they often last to age 35 with enough care and attention. I could see the thought behind that - when her four baby teeth fall out in her thirties, she'd have to pay them a fortune in dental work to plug the four huge gaps. So I suggested that if we took them out and closed the gaps then she'd maybe even have room for her wisdom teeth when they come through and the nice orthodontist agreed.



However, twelve hours in, with sliced gums and unable to eat she's beginning to question my logic and saying the baby ones might have been a comfier option. I remember from autumn 2010 (when Marcel's were put on) that this is a passing phase. I hope I'm still around when she hits 35, to point out that had I not taken this decision today she'd be forking out the equivalent of a grand or more at that point rather than using it on childcare, holidays or whatever her needs are then! She'll thank me then I'm sure.

Hoops ponges again

Léon asked for chocolate-flavoured cheerios for a change at Tesco. Given Amaia's love of cheerios but her invented name of Hoops ponges, I wondered what she'd make of them. I brought them through to that table and asked, 'What do you want for breakfast, Amaia?' She looked at the packet and then replied, 'Dirty Hoops ponges!' 

You've got to love her.

Rosie and Charlotte

Of all the kids, Lots has always been by far the least interested in animals. She was scared of dogs as a small child and often jumped anxiously when someone walked past her with one on a lead in the park. I'm not sure what the cause of the animal animosity was. Granted, as an extended family we had no pets, but I had grown up with cats, my mother had had a dog as a child, Thomas had had rabbits and his parents had a cat so it wasn't like anyone else was giving off anti-animal vibes. She just had a great distaste for anything furry. If someone walked by with a kitten or puppy she didn't go over for a look, she didn't see what the fuss was about. To her animals served only one purpose and that was in a curry sauce.

Marcel had gone through a wanting-a-pet phase at about eight but I was in the throes of leaving his father so it was fairly low on my to-do list back then. But the last year Léon has become unstoppable with his constant harping on so we weighed up the options - the climate ruled out a dog for me, the bus route next to our house ruled out a cat unless we wanted a splat instead of a cat, no one could be bothered with a fish tank and we felt a bit sorry for guinea pigs and rabbits outside in Scottish weather, so a hamster was bought. Lots didn't come along to choose her, and showed no interest when we brought her home despite Amaia jumping and shrieking with excitement. She's more or less ignored her for the two weeks since we brought her home.

But tonight I noticed she stopped and looked in (the cage is in the hall between the TV room and the living room). I watched. At first she spoke to her, then started to hand in some nuts and seeds, which Rosie was taking in her paws and storing in her cheek pouches. Finally she started shredding paper and playing tug of war with her before letting her drag it in and take it off to make a bed. She was soon calling me out to see what Rosie could do (she was making some bedding and a food store in her tube). She's stopped short still at calling her cute (so far), but she's definitely beginning to warm to our little hamster.

Aubergines

I don't think I ever tasted aubergine as a child (it was Glasgow in the 70s after all.) But from the day I left home at 20 to live in France I decided that something that beautiful and shiny had to taste wonderful. The problem was that is was the late 80s and there was no Internet back then to check what to do with one. Unperturbed, I took to buying them at the market in Besançon and I'd then try to make something delicious after a hard day at work. My then boyfriend - he who shall not be named (yeah the ex) - would come in in the evening and look in the pot to find aubergines and garlic swimming in a watery fashion in a tomato-based sauce that was destined for the top of a plate of spaghetti. He wasn't over-excited and to be honest neither was I. Try as I might, they always tasted rubbery and watery.Boiling them in stock and liquidizing them into a soup was also fairly bland. They even squeaked in the liquidizer! So slowly, over the years I threw in the aubergine towel.

Then I met my current husband - who had lived in Georgia. (Ex-USSR Georgia, not US Georgia!) In Georgia they eat a lot of aubergine and they know how to cook it. In Georgia when you board with a family, they teach you how to cook it. What Thomas can do with an aubergine is almost orgasmic - (I'm still talking cooking!) I could live on aubergines alone for weeks on end, if only he's doing the cooking - it's all in the salting technique. Divine! His აჯაფსანდალი is to die for!

So I was right - something that beautiful does taste as good as it looks... eventually.

Mummy Mia

My baby has decided she is 'Sophie' from her favourite movie 'Mummy Mia'. She wanders around singing Abba songs all day long and gets in a strop if I won't turn of Cbeebies and put on Mamma Mia the movie instead.

Whose child could she possibly be...?

Rhubarb vanilla jam

It must be the climate - we are overrun with rhubarb in our garden. Having had two rhubarb crumbles in a week, and given enough to the neighbour to make a third, while holding back enough for one of Thomas's spectacular rhubarb meringue pies, I realized I was going to have to make jam for only the second time in my life. Given I still have some rhubarb and ginger from the last rhubarb invasion I decided rhubarb and vanilla would be a good alternative. So I have just finished making six pots. I decided to experiment this time mixing jam sugar and normal sugar, with a view to making it less set than your bog-standard UK jam - I prefer the French/Danish runnier alternative, so I am hoping it is less solid than my last attempt.

Maybe I can get Thomas to rustle up a nice fresh loaf to try it for brekkie, because I don't think a boring toast-loaf will do my masterpiece justice!

Glimpses of childhood

She's growing into a beautiful young woman. She's hard-working at school and caring, and a great help with her younger siblings. She cooks, sets tables, does dishes and washes her clothes. She's awkward and shy. Of course there are typical teenage traits too - the floor you can't see for clothes, the One Direction duvet she hides under till after noon on weekends, but every so often the little girl is still there, just beneath the surface. She helps Amaia with jigsaws and play-doh. She eats chocolate animal biscuits, but only because that's what you have to put up with when half the household is still at primary school (aye, sure). It is lovely to capture a glimpse of that on a photo because I know (from meeting Marcel's female friends who are two years older) that the end of this childhood is already so close you can smell it...

Chocolate face

I've been having some fun with hot chocolate tonight. This stuff is warm to the touch and leaves your skin feeling great but more importantly it had definite entertainment value with Amaia not at all convinced I was still really me and dragging me through to the bathroom begging me to wash it off. I might take to wearing it out, so I can be anti-social... If I am struggling to recognize myself and so are my kids, it would be great for incognito shopping!

Die weeds, die!

Thomas and I have been in a bit of a stand-off since we moved into the house five years ago... With a mono-blocked patio, I have always wanted to go around with a big bucket of weedkiller. I know it isn't very environmentally friendly but when you've had a bad day or week, there's nothing more cathartic than nuking weeds. Thomas, on the other hand, feels even a pipetteful of weedkiller could render the strawberry patch unusable till the end of time - kind of like a nuclear winter! ;-) So I've grumped for five years and he's promised to weed it by hand (and hasn't!)

Finally Lidl came up with a compromise. What better to relieve stress than a weed-singeing flame-thrower? And it doesn't upset the strawberries in the slightest. Now we're fighting over who gets to scorch the patio and we're even having teenagers beg a go! Brilliant.

Rosie's first cucumber

I know I'm beginning to sound a bit like the mother of a newborn - but I mean to say - how cute is this little girl with her first slice of cucumber, holding it like it's a huge pizza!? Awwh!

Star Wars

Much as the games and t-shirts are beautifully designed and awfully cute, I must admit that the concept of Lego Star Wars (etc) has often puzzled me. Who came up with the idea? Why? And how did they get the two big franchises together?

So since Léon got his latest t-shirt, again I find myself wondering...

Angry Birds Star Wars? What?

Amaia in her party dress

Amaia got it into her head today that she wanted to wear her party dress to nursery. Made of silver, metal disks, it is quite heavy and looks stunningly over-stated, especially when everyone else is in a sweatshirt and leggings. So I had to laugh when I went in to a sign that said 'Yellow group keep your shoes on, we are going out litter-picking' That must have been quite a sight!

Future mathematician?

Anna is five. So when she started lining her jewellery up on the floor yesterday before school I thought nothing of it. 'That's a pretty pattern', I remarked absent-mindedly in passing. 'No mummy!' she replied 'These are my Venn diagrams!'

You really never can predict what is going to come out of their mouths, can you?!

Rosie washing in her house

This new phone definitely has a better camera on it than the last one. Unable to fit the DSLR through the cage door, I stuck it in and snapped, only to realize I'd managed to get Rosie holding her tiny back foot in between her hands, licking between her toes. Cute!

What's in a name?

As I mentioned, we were in Rose street today. When Anna read the street name, she started on about the hamster again...
Oh look mummy, Rose street is a bit like the name Rosie. I pointed out that Rosie is the diminutive of Rose and that sometimes in families or informally you use a diminutive of your name, whereas in more formal situations you use the full form. As an example I explained that although we call Charlotte Lots or Lotsie at home, she would most likely be referred to as Charlotte by teachers or in her future place of work. I continued saying that if Lots was one day to apply for an important job like prime minister, she'd likely call herself Charlotte. I also mentioned that sometimes people use a more formal name when they get older too. Anna thought a moment then asked:Can we call Rosie Rose once she grows up? Of course, I replied, if you want. and then Anna added And we'll call her Rose too if she becomes prime minister! At first I laughed at the ludicrous idea of being governed by our pet hamster but looking at our current duo down south, I know who's getting my vote. ;-)

Garnethill park

We used to go to Garnethill park a lot when we lived in Rose street. Today we were in the area (Marcel had stayed home to babysit Rosie and study for his exams) but the rest of us were in Garnethill so we wandered round for a look. Léon who spent the most time there didn't remember ever having been, Anna who was three weeks old when we left Rose street for good, didn't remember it either and Amaia hasn't been, but Lots remembered it well despite the time lapse. It brought back memories of a hard time, a complicated time and in some ways an easier time. It is strange how time changes perception...