Monday's sea

Monday was a rare dry day for us, so we took Millie to Ilfracombe to walk around the Capstone. She was fascinated by the waves crashing onto the rocks and contrived a bit of sign language to describe it to us.
Missing the regular posts about the state of the beach on Mersea Island, I thought I might take my camera out to our North Devon beaches from time to time. Here are a few more pictures from Ilfracombe on Monday morning.




By the end of our walk, the storm clouds were gathering and we have had two days of rain.
We don't have pretty boats and beach huts here but we do get dramatic seas. I'll try to capture a few more.

Happy travellers

It has rained all day today and guess what lies ahead for the next week. My friend, Crinny, is in Quebec at present and it is raining there too. However, she sent me a link to this clip to cheer me. Travellers in the railway station in Antwerp had their day brightened when a group of 200 dancers gave this apparently impromptu performance. I wonder if British Rail will take up the idea?

A fishy quilt

Baby Brit will have to put in an appearance before midnight in order to give credence to the new exact science of calculating "due date". Maternity specialists haven't yet realised that babies can't read the manuals and have a tendency to choose their own moment to arrive. We are all on tenterhooks, jumping every time the phone rings but I dare say Mr and Mrs Brit are taking it all in their stride.
When my son sent me photos of the nursery he has prepared with its underwater theme, I remembered that I had some bits of Debbie Mumm "Beneath the Sea" fabric so I have spent the last 48 hours working on this little quilt. I have never worked so quickly on anything! Ready to greet you now, Baby, so don't keep us waiting too long.

Works in progress

It has really been indoor weather for several weeks. The garden is looking overgrown and straggly after all the wind and rain so I will have to get out there soon to tidy up before the visitors start to arrive. One visitor who won't notice the weeds is Millie, who is arriving tomorrow for a long weekend. We are hoping that her cousin (Baby Brit) will be born before she goes back to London, then we can all drive up to Bristol to meet him/her together.

Like London buses, these cousins arrive in threes! A few weeks ago, Millie's uncle and aunt on her daddy's side of the family produced twins, a girl and boy. I have made a nappy stacker and some drawstring bags for Millie to take to them. I imagine anything to help save space will be appreciated with two lots of everything to store.

Teddy bears and butterflies

I bottled my lavender champagne and some lavender cordial and even made some lavender biscuits, so I suppose I should be a little grateful that the rain has kept me indoors.

As requested, here is the link for the recipes for lavender biscuits and champagne.

War on the Margins goes on sale

It has been fascinating to watch the progress of this book, from the first email in September 2008 offering a proof copy for review, through receiving a proof copy of the final version from Duckworth until today, the day the book goes on sale.

You can read my initial response to Libby Cone's self-published edition here; news of Duckworth Publishers taking up the book here and you can buy your own copy here. I recommend that you do.

The barbecue season?

The meteorologists are telling us that the Atlantic jet stream has lost its way again. For the third successive year it is sweeping across the UK instead of passing harmlessly across the sea to the north of us. Instead of the "barbecue summer" we were promised, we are suffering high winds and torrential rain.

While your barbecue equipment and recipes remain unused for yet another year, here are a few images to remind you of what we are missing.

The elegant 1960s version

I settled for the barrel barbecue

My brother prefers this type of chimena

My husband, who grew up in southern Africa, always refers to barbecues as braais or braaivleis. I believe his family simply had a pit dug in the garden but nowadays they are landscaped and architect-designed:
In today's edition of the Bulawayo Morning Mirror, my favourite journalist, Margaret Kriel, has written a very entertaining piece about her experience with a braai:

TO BRAAI OR NOT TO BRAAI THAT IS THE QUESTION

I am looking in awe at the coals on the braai. Instinct tells me they are perfect, just perfect. Many years of marriage to HeeHoo have trained me to know when the braai coals are ready, because then it is time for me to rush around and get all the last minute bits and pieces ready. You know the unimportant trivia to do with a "Guys Braai" the plates, the salads, the potato bake etc etc.

The really important stuff though of course, is the nyama. Is the boerries good today, did Rose Valley Butchery get the right recipe ? THE AWARD WINNING BOERRIES RECIPE ?

There is much laughter generally at a braai, loads of men willing and able to turn their hands at turning the meat, regularly, meticulously, lovingly. They say many hands make light work, and men sure have that one down to a fine art ...

Many many hands and many many Castle Beers, make a fine braai, especially when there is a Game on at the same time, and all "game Lovers" can have their braais perfectly positioned where the Game can be watched, probably on a full screen TV where not a moment needs to be taken away from the Nyama, or a sip needs to be lost from the can in the cuzzi.

But today was different, HeeHoo has gone to SA and I had accompanied HeeHoo Must Fish on a cattle buying expedition to Binga, and HHMF had not returned.

The fire was laid perfectly, the aroma of mopani wood filled the air, aromatically air-dried by the Zambezi Valley heat. The coals were second to none, just the absolutely perfect temperature (not sure how they tell, I always use a meat thermometer but guys seem to know instinctively. )

Maybe its that dull warm glow that settles over one, when the braai ambiance is at the perfect pitch ?
But where was the Chef ? Were the cattle a tad rambunctious today or had he stopped off at the Manjolo Growth Point to have a beer with the farmers ?

I suspected that the fire required another Mopane log, but anxious not to burn the tassels of my silk pashmina, I carelessly threw the log in, instead of nestling it lovingly in the coals. Wrong tactic, I knew immediately as the little blaze of satisfying embers was dislodged rather haphazardly. My luck would be that HeeHoo Must Fish would roar in at top speed, stomach rumbling majestically, and the coals would be too hot/too cold/ too scattered ?

Now Mopani wood is supposedly infallible, a real braai- master never uses anything except Mopani in Zimbabwe and Mesquite in Texas !! But these logs were starting to annoy me. Twenty minutes later, still no Fuming Farmer, so I toyed with the idea of "lovingly tenderly inserting another log", this is far too scientific for me, maybe I should just cook the steak and boerries on the stove top ?

The Binga night was beginning to scare me, last night the hippos had been munching steadily outside my bedroom window all night long, they are the most silent creatures. Apart from the odd intermittent uh uh uh uhuhuhuh, and the sound of half a kilo of grass being wrested out of your lawn, you never ever even hear a twig snap.

Were they watching me balefully from the lake end of the lawn ? And then there are the crocs, HeeHoo actually did a macabre dance with a baby croc not long ago. He was crossing the lawn (as men do at a braai) when what he thought was a puff adder attacked him. HeeHoo did an amazingly adroit tap dance similar to Michael Flatley in the River Dance, and avoided death by a millisecond. Only to find a baby croc, lost and annoyed, snapping at his heels like a rusty rotweiller, said baby croc, apparently took a nightly swim in the pool and was most put out at being danced on by a human !!

Apart from my own frivolous fears about the fire and the four footed ferocity waiting out there for me, I was a tad worried about HeeHoo Must fish (aka Adam the Angler), as he had been gone since dawn.

But nothing deterred me I poured myself another glass of wine, and went back to the braai fire. THOSE COALS were problem enough, but I should surely start cooking something or we would be eating at midnight ?

Smoky, nasty fire ? Oh no I do not do smoky nasty fires, ones hair smells horrible. Would it be a dead giveaway if I did it under the grill, maybe I could scatter a few coals in the bottom of the pan to give it that charred carcinogenic look that Braai masters long for ?

But I was freshly showered and smelling of magnolias, I would have to take another shower before bed if I had to tackle that mopani pyromaniac blaze !!
Oh gosh, it suddenly occurred to me .... all those years I have underestimated the male species.

Braais, Humpf, men love braais, cos the women do all the work and the guys get all the glory !!
But I had never ever actually been up close and personal with a braai fire !! Till now !!

I could feel a lessening of the heat on my ankles, (this particular braai was a pit in the ground, carefully crafted by Angelo Sip into a masterpiece of mesenteric beauty.

Another log ? Or another glass of wine ? Big decision.... when will Adamski get here, I can hear those darn hippos emerging from the lake as we speak !!

Staring sullenly at the fire was achieving nothing so I gently lowered another beautifully matured Mopani log onto the fire, whipping the pashmina tendrils away from the blaze with ease. This is a piece of cake thought I, why were men so painfully anal about the "coals" I wondered ?

Its merely a matter of keeping the wood on track with the glasses of wine !!
After all its quite easy to remove a piece of wood at a moments notice is it not. ?
I was beginning to enjoy this, I could now, with ease, join in any discussion with any braai expert, on the heat of the coals. I could be an aficionado like the best of them.

I could just picture HeeHoo standing back in awe as I took over the coal management board !! He would be so proud of me, I would endear myself to him forever ! I could just picture it !!

You will be relieved to know that HeeHoo Must Fish returned eventually, stomach rumbling loudly, headed for the shower, followed by two "Black Label" bombers in quick succession, and then proceeded to burn the steak on my beautifully manicured fire !!

Men !! Hummpfff .......

I hope this will make you smile as you look out at the rain-washed garden and plan another indoor meal.

A candle blessing

Yesterday was a time of very mixed emotions as I shared a farewell lunch with D at 60goingon16 mansions. I know that our friendship will survive her removal to another county but partings are always sad. But the lunch was a time for meetings as well and I met the Dear Daughter and the Only Other Blonde in the Village (readers of 60 will be very familiar with them) and we had the very best of times that women with a common bond can have: laughter, gossip, tears and cake!

I was shown the mahogany chest where D's "shameful" hoard of candles was discovered. As a fellow compulsive collector of candles, I see nothing shameful in having such a splendid hoard but I suppose I'll have to show a little self-discipline when we come to pack up the home. Tomorrow evening I will think of D settling into her new place, which will very soon become home, I'm sure. I will light a candle and think of her there and read this candle blessing that someone once gave to me:

THE CANDLE I LIGHT
May the candle I light
be more than itself.
May it be for you:
the touch of a lover,
the smile of a child
a drench of fresh rain,
a garden of sunflowers,
a good meal,

a dog to stroke,
a cup of clear water,
flowers for a friend
a yes of breath
a seed of hope,
a given moment ....

May it be:
healing for your sickness;
closeness in your loneliness;
comfort in your mourning;
self-respect when you are rejected;
love to share.

May it be a moment
of shining in a tiny bit
of the darkness:
a hope,
a prayer,
a blessing.
(Joy Mead)

In a few words

I read about a story competition on 60goingon16: writers were invited to write a story about parks, in no more than 50 words. I was too late to enter (not that I have written even such a short story since college days) but I liked the idea of condensing ones thoughts about a topic into a few words. Here are my 42 words on parks:

Three parks define my childhood. Sutton Park for everyday:swings, see-saw, roundabouts, bread and jam and play. Sherdley Park on Sundays: walking sedately round gardens in white dress and ribbons. Taylor Park on high holidays: boating lake, tennis courts, picnics and cousins.

If you would like to play with 50 words about any aspect of your childhood, not just parks, then please leave a comment and I'll put all the pieces in a future post. I won't make it a competition but there could be a few bookish rewards.

Bring on the pain!

There is a discussion on pain over on Think of England. Being a Manly sort of blog, it focuses on Manly pain caused by sports injuries. According to an article in today's papers, women are deliberately avoiding pain, which is a Bad Thing:

"The pain involved in childbirth serves a purpose and more women should go through it in order to prepare themselves for the responsibility of bringing up a baby, according to Dr Denis Walsh." (Full article here)

I may have to censor some of your comments!

The birds have flown

Do you remember Mr Blackbird collecting string to build a nest in the rafters of the garage? We have been watching and waiting for the four eggs to hatch. Mrs Blackbird ignored us completely as she sat on the nest.
It was difficult to get close enough to take photos but I think you can just make out the open beaks.
Yesterday we found the nest empty and four little fledglings trying their wings.
The parent birds are still busy looking for food around the garden and I hope they will make several meals from the intruders I found among my salad leaves
Ugh! Sometimes I think the French are to be admired. I wish I could make a buttery, garlicky meal of this lot but I can't. I'll just have to hope the blackbirds find them.

Nappy stacker

I somehow can't imagine Baby Brit having a diaper stacker, so I've given an English name to this useful item from The Quilted Nursery. It was fun to make. If you can think of a better name than nappy stacker, do tell me.

Lavender champagne

I started off some lavender champagne today. I haven't tried it before so I'll have to let you know how it tastes in two weeks time when it should be ready to drink.

Ingredients
about 50 lavender flowers
4 pints cold water
12 oz (350 grams) sugar
4oz (110 grams) sultanas, finely chopped
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
juice of one lemon

Stir all dry ingredients in a large glass or porcelain bowl
Pour on water, vinegar and lemon juice
Stir well together

Cover with cling wrap and leave for 7 days

After 7 days, strain and pour into sterilized bottles. Seal and leave for another 7 days before drinking.

What busy babies do

Thanks to erp for sending me the link to this. I wonder if Millie is a roller babe yet?

Keeping the children busy

I was in the supermarket checkout queue behind a group of young mothers this morning; they had just dropped their children off at school they were bemoaning the approach of the long school holidays. I was quite surprised to hear that they were all dreading having their children at home for 5 or 6 weeks and couldn't think how they were going to get through the long days.

I resisted the urge to tell them that their children would be grown and flown before long and they ought to enjoy this precious time with them. I avoided pointing out that we live in an area of outstanding natural beauty, surrounded by beaches and countryside (FREE); that the village has playing fields and a park (FREE)and that the library runs story time and craft sessions throughout the holidays (FREE). And, by the way, hadn't they realised when they had babies that they would grow into children? Not a word did I say on the subject but I've been turning it over in my head all day.

Perhaps I'm being unfair? This generation of parents grew up with television as their main source of entertainment and so perhaps they really don't know what to do with their children. I was fortunate when mine were small, we lived in Southsea, Hampshire, with the beach, the common, a fairground and the canoe lake all within a very short walking distance. We also had a large, rambling house with lots of space for the children and their friends to play in when the weather kept them indoors. We didn't have television and not a lot of money so all our entertainment was simple and homemade and, I must admit, I never minded a mess!

I'll be more constructive and offer a few suggestions for things to do at home, costing very little. Here are some of the books I used in my early days of teaching and had to come up with ideas for craft lessons or wet playtimes. I am sure there are lots of new ones around but these can probably be found in charity shops and second-hand book shops for a few pennies.


This Penguin book of Children's Parties by Helen Thomas is in three sections: What to do; What to eat; What to play. It is full of ideas for action parties and seasonal parties but the recipes and games can be adapted for small family activities. You don't have to have all the neighbourhood children in the garden but that can be fun!

From this book:
Matchbox filling - give each child a matchbox and send them out into the garden or around the beach or park for a set time and give a prize to the child who has the greatest number of objects in their box. (I collect matchboxes all year to play this game on the summer camp. It never fails to keep the children busy and the record is 83 !)

I like some of the recipes in this book: cookies for the children to make on a wet day, or for me to cook beforehand and the children to decorate outdoors on a fine day. Top favourite - make your own knickerbocker glory.


The Play Away Party Book by Brian Cant is full of old favourites like Sardines, Musical Islands and Up Jenkins. It has sections devoted to ice-breakers, up and about games, sitting about games, performing time, forfeits and many more.

Wet days call for lots of paper and paints or felt tip pens. Having no artistic talent, I relied on books like the Copycat series to help me produce visual aids for my lessons and then I discovered that those children who won't draw because they feel they can't, love to use these books to copy or trace.



















I know from years of running summer camps, that most children would rather do things than sit around watching television. Busy children are happy children and the holidays will fly by. I have collected hundreds of ideas for games and activities and would be happy to share them.

Great table

I've had very little time for visiting blogs or for writing recently as I am in the last frantic stages of preparing for the summer camps. I have decided that this year's will be my last and I am hoping that someone with more energy than I now possess will come forward to take them on. There's not much to it really - just about 30 hours a week for 5 months of the year, without pay. I'd better take cover before I get trampled in the rush!
I had to go to Buckfast Abbey on Wednesday to check out some details for the camps with the Warden, who is really helpful and supportive. It was a lovely day so I arrived early and wandered around the lovely lavender garden.

One of the impressive rooms that we use is the mediaeval Guest Hall. The Warden told me to be sure to go and look at the changes that had been made in there since last year, as they might affect my plans. "We've put in a great table," was his nonchalant remark.

Hmm. I think our plans might need just a little adjustment, although it looks like a terrific place for a party. I think we could seat all 50 youngsters around it with room to spare. I have a lovely Irish linen cloth that might cover it, too. My sister ordered a beautiful cloth from Dublin for my 30th wedding anniversary a few years ago; unfortunately she wrote 6 yards instead of 6 feet and I've never had the heart to cut it. It will be a great thrill to use it at last.