humour

Letters to a Sister : 13

Posted by

0


This has been a fairly quiet week, the most eventful thing being Son’s graduation ceremony.

Before we went, we had to take younger son’s duvet to Morrisons to be washed. It has been sealed in a black bin bag since he got home from uni – trust me, it needed to be washed. When he removed it from the cover, a shower of feathers fell over the floor. We could not find an obvious hole, but it is clearly leaking. I cannot believe this will end well. Gave receipt to unsuspecting husband. When he collects his cleaning he can also collect empty duvet sack and a bill for having broken Morrisons washing machine with feathers.

But I digress. As I say, this week was Son’s graduation so we drove North. Stayed over night in a Premier Inn. I must say, I really like Premier Inns. They have nothing you don’t need, are reasonably priced and always seem clean and welcoming. The food is just ‘normal’, nothing special but not cheap rubbish – a few brand names go a long way with food. I like them.

The day of the graduation was sunny. A lot like the day, three years ago, when he first looked round the uni. He assures me that it has rained every single one of the days inbetween. I think he is lying.

The whole world was at the graduation, they are certainly a ‘multi cultural’ place. I eavesdropped a few Mandarin conversations but resisted the urge to join in (there is a level of ‘odd’ that my children will not accept from me. I have learnt this.)

Also a range of types of people. There were those in posh clothes, with posh voices, who walked around like they ruled the world and everyone was in their way. Then there was the man we sat behind, who had no suit, wore a baseball cap throughout but was clearly excited to be there, took copious photographs and was quite emotional when his child went forward. I know which people I prefer.

I was somewhat surprised, when needing the loo, to discover they have ‘male’, ‘female’ and ‘gender-neutral’ toilets at uni these days. Apparently gender is now a spectrum. I am completely comfortable that I am well within the ‘female’ end of the gender spectrum (I only have issues when deciding on gender for my cats, not humans.) However, I do think they are a good idea. Not as an extra option – anyone using them would get peered at I suspect, but why do we need gender separate toilets anyway? I am quite modest but I cannot think that peeing in a cubicle, completely hidden but next to a bloke in his own cubicle, would cause me any problems. It would also have made life a lot easier when my boys reached that age where they did not want to go into the ‘Ladies’ with me but I felt they were too young to go into the pervert ridden Gents on their own.

Son looked suitably handsome in his cap and gown. He got cross with how many photos I took and banned me. Had to take sneaky ones of his back after that.I have lots.

The ceremony began with a procession of dignitaries who walked to the front and then sat facing the audience. They all looked splendid in their colourful gowns and caps. Except for one. Who was the man who wore a checked shirt and no tie under his gown? He sat slumped in his chair, clearly unhappy to be there. Was he a stand in? Did they drag him from an afternoon in his garden when they had a no show? Not that he wasted the time, using it to give his ears a good clean out. Thankfully he left his nose alone – left the nose picking to the camera man at the back of the stage. Honestly, someone should tell people that IF they are on a stage facing 200 strangers, that is NOT the best time for face picking. Of any kind.

However, when the ceremony began, Professor Checked Shirt gave the most beautiful smile to the graduands, full of affection. All was forgiven in that instant and I decided I liked him after all.

I did not however, like the man who sat next to me. He did not clap for a single graduand and even, at one point during the ceremony, opened a bottle of water and had a drink. His wife had obviously tried though. She had matched her lipstick, eye-shadow and nails perfectly with her purple mobile phone. Not quite my thing but she had made an effort at least.

I was surprised by how young the graduands were. It was only yesterday that we were that age, all grown up, knowing everything and ready to conquer the world. The only real difference was that these graduands were requested to not take selfies when they accepted their certificates. Not a problem for us. Not sure mobile phones even existed.

Perhaps we are getting old after all. Though I feel exactly the same. Except I know less now than I did when I was in my twenties.

Take care,
Anne x

Letters to a Sister 10

Posted by

1


On Friday, we had quite an adventurous day!
At 6am, we met Alecs in the hotel lobby. We had booked a tour via the hotel to Ilha Grande ( ‘Big Island’.) We were told we would drive from the hotel to a village, get a boat to the island, then hike for three hours through lush forest to beautiful beaches.
This was all true. However, they omitted to tell us a few things:
1) Friday is the WORST day for traffic in Rio. It took us two hours to leave the city and about three hours to get back in the evening.
Alecs did a coffee and washroom stop ( nice clean facilities!) so it was okay, but it wasted a lot of the day.

As we drove we saw police had stopped vehicles in various places. They carried machine guns. There’s a VERY strong police presence in Rio. On the boat another passenger had a hand gun. Turned out he too was a policeman.
Also saw more amazing wall art/ graffiti.
2) When we met Alecs, he advised us to go back to room and change into sturdy shoes, long sleeves etc, needed proper hiking stuff.

3) The hike was long and steep. We basically walked/ scrabbled/ climbed for over an hour UP a mountain track. When we remembered to look up, it was beautiful but it was hard going, narrow paths, slippery clay covering rocks, very steep. Needed to concentrate on not falling.
We then walked/ slid for an hour down the other side.

Finally reached the beach to find the track ended on a ten foot high rock, with a rope. No other way down. Had to abseil down to the beach. Lots of screaming from Barbie, which was helpful as allowed me time to gather my thoughts and watch how to do it.

4) Beach beautiful and had cafe with loo. Only permitted a quick rest, then trekked for another hour and a half to next beach. No abseiling this time ( its surprising what you come to appreciate!)

It was not such a steep walk, though did begin with climbing a 45 degree slope of granite. Not so easy with tired legs and sand slippery shoes.
Made it with no major injuries, though I did slip at one point and jar my wrist. Luckily didn’t slip into one of the trees coated with four inch long spikes ( which they used to use in blow guns as weapons.)

Arrived at second beach. Saw black vultures ( prob waiting for exhausted hikers.)

The third, most beautiful beach, was a further hike, then a return to second beach for boat out. We opted to stay at second beach. Barbie and Ken went to third beach, said was big, beautiful, and they saw monkeys. I can live without seeing it.

5) Getting on boat back to island village involved two floating piers connected by a narrow walkway at 50 degree angle. Bit of a challenge.

6) Boat to island village small, on big waves in open sea. Not wearing life jacket, aware would sink like a stone in heavy boots.

7) Speedboat to mainland fast but cold ( needed a coat.) I was not overly reassured by ‘lookout’ man who was checking for floating debris because if we hit any we would flip over.

Also somewhat bemused by other passenger, a disheveled elderly man who closely examined our bags and then very slowly extracted a bic razor from his back pack. I was too exhausted to do more than giggle ( slightly hysterical by this point.) – Old man then slowly shaved his face as we went. Unexpected.

On way back to Rio, car ran over an abandoned cone ( heavy traffic, safer than swerving to avoid it.) Was removed from under car by man with shovel at petrol station.

Satnav kept recommending we leave the traffic jam and take a side road. Alecs said the route would take us through two favelas and might not be safe. I’m glad he didn’t, felt I had had enough adventure for one day.

Take care,
Anne xxx

Letters to a Sister 8

Posted by

1


Last week Mags cooked at the lunch club. She always makes huge lemon meringue pies. After they had eaten, one old lady came into the kitchen and said she kept meaning to ask for the recipe, was it a family secret or could Mags bring it for her? Mags said she would. After she had gone, Mags admitted she wouldn’t really know what to write on said recipe as the pies are packet mixes from Morrisons!

It’s the end of Spring. England does Spring so well, not like some seasons when you can’t be sure where you are in the year. I remember when we lived in the US, Spring came and went in a flash, if you blinked you missed it. Here we’ve had bulbs everywhere, bluebells in the woods, so much life. Not sure if I usually don’t notice because I’m too busy or if writing helps me to see better. I just walked Kia. There was a cuckoo calling, a deer in the field next to the house, baby rabbits hiding in the hedgerow. We saw a baby thrush perched on the bottom rung of a fence, looking all lost with its spotty tummy and baby fluff round its head. No idea where its mother was, probably having a heart attack in a nearby bush when she saw a monster german shepherd sniffing her offspring!

Last year when I was walking Kia I saw a baby deer. She had seen the mother and gone off on a long chase (still doesn’t realise that she cannot leap over hedges like deer can.) I was standing there, shouting at her departing back (futile activity) when I saw something ‘hop’ in the corn. Thought it was a rabbit at first, then went nearer and saw it was a tiny fawn. So cute. Worried that it may be abandoned due to disobedient dog chasing away mother. Went home and told James that he needed to come with me tomorrow and if baby was still there, we (he) would be carrying it home.

Was unclear how I would explain to David we had a deer living in the shed. Also some concerns over ticks, but ignored them.

Anyway, next day we set off.James asked if deer should be moved or if it was the same as when you find baby birds and you should leave them where you find them. Told him I had no idea. He then used fancy phone to google it and find out info. (Oh to be young and to understand how fancy phones work! )
Anyhow, he informed me that deer are born and left by the mother, who returns regularly to feed them until they are big enough to leap over hedges. They have no scent, so are safe from predators as they lie very still in long grass and are rarely seen. Pretty clever.
We decided to therefore leave deer where it was and just took some photos. Though it would have been SO cool to have a pet deer!

We have agreed to go on a charity trip with Tearfund to Brazil. Will visit their projects in the slums (which apparently I am not meant to call the slums, but it makes it clear that we’re not going to posh hotels.) Slightly worried we might get shot (you will be on mother duty. Ha!) though have been assured we’ll be safe.
Is bit of a logistical nightmare arranging someone to live here and look after two dogs, six cats, six chickens (including two cockerels who definitely have an evil look in their eyes) and fourteen ducks. Seems to be pretty much sorted.

I have tried to learn Portuguese. Got the duolingo app for my phone. It is impossibly difficult. Everything changes depending on who says it and whether the thing is masculine or feminine. Even “thank you” changes if I say it or a man says it. Crazy. What makes an object masculine anyway? Who decides these things? Am hoping to meet only English speakers or Mandarin speakers. David assures me this is unlikely.
One of Mimi’s friends lived in Brazil for a while and she has given me a couple of lessons (think she is a bit surprised at how slow I am!) In an effort to look keen I bought some dvds from Amazon. Could not understand a single word, not even ‘Hello’ or ‘thank you’ (which I definitely sort of know.) Complained to friend who looked at dvds and told me they were Spanish. Ah. Felt rather stupid (but she laughed for ages!)

Take care,
Anne xxx

IMG_1289

Kittens still cute.
IMG_2395 IMG_2393

Letters to a Sister 6

Posted by

1


It was my turn to cook at Lunch Club. This is a major operation, beginning with a trip to supermarket at 8:30 the morning before. I then spent all day cooking beef casseroles and lemon crunch pies, which spend the night in my fridge and then get transported to church and reheated for the lunch. This week we had forty-two people. Lots of food.

It started fairly badly when I tried to open the condensed milk ready for the lemon crunch pies. We have a Jamie Oliver tin opener, which I am quite fond of as it is not immediately obvious how it works and leaves people looking confused and I can then show them and feel clever. In the past, it has always worked brilliantly. Anyway, my guess is that Jamie Oliver does not use much condensed milk in his recipes (do you still use his recipes? I am more of a Nigella cook -unfortunately am getting the waistline to match!)

This stupid opener would not open the tin, whichever way I held it. All it did was remove a hair sized slither of metal, which then splintered off into my hand. Hurt. And bled. Not a good start.

Now, I have done my hygiene safety course (what a thrilling morning that was) so I knew that blood and catering is a bad combination. I should immediately cover the cut with a blue plaster (blue so that if it falls into the food – gross thought – it is easily spotted.) However, we do not have blue plasters in my house. We only have Postman Pat ones which I buy because I like to hear ‘important-city-worker’ and ‘international – businessman’ both muttering when they cut themselves (I clearly don’t get out enough.)

I therefore decide that I will opt for hygiene rule two and wear plastic gloves. Unfortunately, the only plastic gloves which are unopened (and therefore safe to use with food preparation) are extra large black marigolds, bought to use in the garden. So, there I am, wearing my outsized black gloves, looking at unopened condensed milk cans and thinking bad thoughts about Jamie Oliver.

What do you do when your tin opener does not open tins? I can assure you that a cork screw is both dangerous and does not work. Nor does bashing it very hard with sons penknife. Taking it in garden, wedging it between logs and hitting it with an axe does work, however leaves milk too dirty to use. The only option, as far as I know, is to drive very fast back to supermarket and buy a cheap but effective tin opener. One that actually opens tins. I will suggest to Jamie that really this should be the defining point for any implement he sells under the name ‘tin opener’. Radical thought.

The rest of my preparation went well, though I was completely worn out afterwards. Luckily, both David and Mimi were at work functions in the evening, so Mum had agreed to cook me dinner. I shoved the food in the fridge, fed the animals and drove to Mum’s. As I stood on her doorstep I had a horrible feeling that she might be going to serve me beef casserole/stew (you will understand.) But no, it was very nice scollaped potatoes with sausages and cheesecake for pudding. No tin openers necessary.

The actual Lunch Club was fine. The oldies all ate their beef casserole and vegetables and absolutely huge pieces of lemon crunch pie. All very tasty and hygienic. Some of them bring in plastic containers and take home the leftovers to eat in the week. It’s a nice feeling to cook for them. They have jugs of water on the table and a few of them have started to bring in fruit juice to add to it so it has a flavour. This week one table had a bottle of alcoholic fruit juice. The leader asked if they realised it was alcoholic and they just winked at her! That’s so how I want to be when I’m ninety-five!

Actually, we recently renamed the group. It’s now called Lunch Club (imaginative huh?) We did consider a few possibilities. My personal favourite was Fifty Shades of Grey (this was deemed to be misleading – they might arrive with the wrong expectations!)

 

We went to visit Noreen in hospital. She has just decided not to continue with chemo, so probably wont live much longer. I was really nervous about going. She’s a friend, so I really felt that we should go but I was worried about getting all emotional, which would be awful for her and upsetting for me. Prayed hard. Arrived at hospital – why are they so beige? Found her ward, which bizarrely is the maternity ward. Apparently ‘womens bits’ are all categorised the same, whether it’s the beginning or end of a life. Actually, maybe that’s better, maybe being on a ‘cancer ward’ would be rather depressing. Anyway, Noreen was still Noreen. She is clearly unwell, but still bright and sparky and fun to talk to. I didn’t get emotional at all. Find that happens a lot when I pray – makes me wonder why I don’t spend more time doing it.

Take care,
Anne xx

The next ‘Letters to a Sister’ will be posted next Monday.

Letters to a Sister 5

Posted by

1


Very excited, one of my poems was ‘spotted’ on Twitter and has been printed in Tear TimesIMG_2312You can order a copy (family heirloom) at : tearfund.org (they’re free)

 

For David’s birthday, his sisters gave him a voucher for a champagne cream tea at the races. Decided to use it on Saturday. Was fun. We arrived about two, having missed lunch due to eating big breakfast. Wondered how we would manage to drink a whole bottle of champagne mid afternoon. We managed surprisingly well.

The race course was nice. Not really used to race courses, so no idea what to expect. We had a table in a pavilion, which we could leave to watch the races and then come back to (for more champagne.) On way to the track passed a group of musicians who never seemed to be playing and a stand selling ‘Hand Pulled Pork’ which made me giggle. (I blame it on the champagne, but honestly, WHO thought that was a good name for something people would want to eat????)

Liked watching everyone. All the women seemed to be dressed up in high heels and fancy dresses and fascinators. I do not get the point of fascinators – they are fascinating because they look very difficult to keep from falling off! I had my best trousers on but fear I may have looked like I had come straight from sorting out ducks and kittens (because I had.)

Anyway, I had reminded David that Great Grandad had been involved with building the race course at Huntingdon, we had Dick Francis and Josh Gifford on our family tree, etc, etc. First race, I picked a horse. Told David it had odds of 9:1.
He then pointed out that actually that was its weight. It came second. Next race chose with confidence, telling him the weight. It lost, of course. Then we texted lucky niece and asked her for her tip – that lost too. Was great fun watching though.

Tea was nice. We had a Romanian waiter. I asked him which part of Romania he came from, he told me Eastern Europe. Maybe I was slurring by this point.

I used the Ladies before we came home. David pointed me in the right direction and I managed the heavy double doors just fine. Room very crowded with lots of women touching up their make up and combing hair. Did not use elbows to reach the sink (would’ve been rude.) Wondered who thought ‘bubble gum’ was a good perfume for liquid soap.

Thanks for sending the pot pourri. I’ve put it in a pretty china dish in the downstairs bathroom. Not sure why the whole world now thinks that’s a good place to fling the empty toilet roll insert.

My animals are doing well. The silver call ducks have just hatched. Mother keeps sitting on them still (glad there is one good mother in my household) so getting a decent photo is near impossible. Milly and Molly continue to be terrible mothers and only really notice their babies when I go in and put them back together. All four kittens continue to thrive, I feel despite rather than because of their mothers.

Talking of mothers, I took our mother to the supermarket yesterday. She went to one of the ‘self check out’ tills before I could stop her. Immediately, an assistant came and stood next to her, helping her check out. Think that tells a story in itself.

Take care,
Anne x

IMG_2295 IMG_2304

IMG_2300 IMG_2298

Letters to a Sister 4

Posted by

1


I can’t remember if you have the same holidays as us? Anyway, last Monday was a Bank Holiday in the UK. Mimi (amazingly) managed to sell her car. Think she was a bit sad to see it go. She rather liked having a big pile if cash though! She then, rather worryingly, asked, “Will banks be open today?” I told her there was a clue in the name! Also a bit surprising as she works in a bank. Clearly that Law degree was worth every penny.

Also, Molly had her kittens. Somewhat of a surprise, as I was just thinking about moving them inside ready for my guessed due date of end of May. I found her on a high shelf in the workshop with two almost dead kittens (which didn’t make it) and one feeding.

Milly has not yet produced but seems uncomfortable. She’s a bit smaller than Molly so am guessing a few days later. I moved them all into the garage. Molly is a pretty useless mother. She is fed up with the kitten and just wants to curl up on her own somewhere. Milly is very uncomfortable and just wants to hug Molly all the time, squashing the kitten in the process. She also keeps trying to steal the kitten – perhaps she thinks if she can steal that one she needn’t go through the whole birth thing herself. I tried putting Milly somewhere different but Molly got very upset so decided having them together was the lesser evil. Think these two missed the ante natal classes and the ‘instinct’ bit obviously missed a generation. Will be a miracle if that kitten survives.

It does bring back memories of having babies, not that I remember very much. I think we are designed to forget most details so that we have more than one baby and don’t warn our daughters never to have children. I can remember when I had my second one commenting, “Oh, I remember this pain now.” Can’t remember much else. Am pretty sure though that I remained calm and glamorous throughout.

I do recall David, busy husband, not having time to read any of the million books that I gave him in preparation. Then, when I was in labour he said he would start reading one. He chose a 1950s book and read out, “Only the ignorant woman feels pain during childbirth.” I think I politely asked him to stop reading, it wasn’t helping.

Take care,
Anne xx

PS Milly had her kittens – three survived. She seems a much better mother than Molly who still regularly abandons her kitten for something more interesting. Amazingly it is still alive, though what being regularly sat on or ignored does for your self esteem remains to be seen. Perhaps it is ugly, some babies are. Do you remember Mum telling us the story of when Mark was born and Granny said, “Never mind, you can keep him covered in a shawl!”?

Having kittens is MUCH more traumatic than hatching ducklings. If a duckling gets stuck you can help and most of the time it is successful and if it’s not, well it is sad but there is no risk to the mother.
Have definitely given up on the idea of breeding puppies.
Am not sure that I want grandchildren any more either. All very stressful.

IMG_2243 IMG_2240 IMG_2235 IMG_2234

Letters to a Sister 3

Posted by

1


Rats This week I have two problems, both rat related.

Now, as you know, if you live on farmland and keep poultry, you’ll have rats. Fact. We’ve always had a big brown rat around the pond. In fact, the first year we lived here, when we didn’t know what we were doing and the pond froze so the fox could walk to duck island and kill every single duck, James asked if he should still continue to feed the rat each morning. (He was young.)

However now, after two mild winters, they have become more of a problem. They get the eggs, they carry germs and will kill the young poultry when it first hatches.

So, last year we bought two farm cats, Milly and Molly, to live outside. Even if they don’t get the bigger rats, they’ll get the babies and that will keep the population under control. I didn’t spay them, figuring that a few cats outside would be fine, they can each have a litter and then I’ll get them all spayed.

Am pretty sure now that Milly & Molly are pregnant rather than greedy. Still no idea who the father is, but can definitely smell a Tom some mornings. Not pleasant.

Did some internet research to learn how I should be looking after them. Learned that sometimes cats can produce up to 8 kittens. Eight. Not really sure how I am going to mention this to David. Milly & Molly were perfect, the only two in the litter, born in a stable but handled regularly so not feral & used to a GSD. Perfect. I had assumed that as they were a pair, they would each produce a pair. Six kittens, living outside, helping to control the rats around the pond, ideal. I’ll have them all neutered after the first litter and we’ll all live happily ever after.

But eighteen? Oh dear. And whilst I can kill the odd cockerel ( especially after he has attacked me & is showing signs of aspiring to world domination) there is NO way I could dispose of a kitten. (I promise to send photos when they’re born – am guessing end of May.)

Can you advertise for good homes on fb? Have a feeling its against the fb rules, my account will be shut down by fb police. Oh the shame.

I will have to smuggle them into people’s homes. Perhaps I cd take them as thank you gifts when invited out for dinner. Can be gifts for all my nieces & nephews on their birthdays. House warming gifts? Could have a party & give them as leaving gifts/party favours. This clearly needs some thought.

My next problem is also rat related. Last Summer we had “Mr Rat” the exterminator, but then he was ill and stopped coming, leaving both a healthy rat population and some traps.

I, in my wisdom, decided to set some of the traps. They worked. I now have a rat. An alive one.

Now, it is one thing to employ a man to put down poison or to get some farm cats to kill the babies, it is quite another to be faced with a rat, perfectly healthy, looking through the bars of the trap at me. He has a little furry face and sweet little ears and cute pink paws.

He also screams the rat equivalent of death threats whenever I go near and tries to bite me through the cage. Clearly hates me. What to do?

Cannot bring myself to kill him, not face to face – plus not sure how. I can kill something quickly, before it feels fear, in an instant. But how do I even get it out of the trap without it biting me? Nor can I leave it to starve to death. Seems cruel.

So I am now feeding a rat and regularly topping up its water bowl. This is so not what I had planned.

When David gets home I will suggest he might like a drive into the countryside, away from other houses and farms and we can release it. I fear he will mutter. Will also be nervous that cage in car may not be as secure as I hope. Oh dear, big problem.

Maybe I can add it to the surprise kitten gifts…..Just be glad it’s not December or guess what you would be getting for Christmas……

Will write again next week.

Take care.
Anne xx

PS Mimi is trying to sell her car. She told me she has advertised on a car website but at the last minute she got worried about putting her mobile number on a public site. So she used a false number. Not sure she really thought that one through.

Letters to a Sister 2

Posted by

1


Letter to a Sister 2

     Okay, so James suggested I join some facebook groups to advertise some of my articles. Good idea. Joined a German Shepherd Dog (GSD) group and then got lots of hits on my dog training article. Still good. Decided to join some more groups. Some are ‘closed groups’, so you cannot see any of the stuff on their timeline until you are accepted as a member. No problem, I thought, and joined a few. Ah. GSD also stands for ‘gender sexual deviation’. Saw some very unexpected photos. Thought they probably didn’t want to learn about dog training…….

     Not sure if Milly and Molly are pregnant or just enjoying their new food. At the end of May either we will have kittens or they will be on a very strict diet.

     Silver Call duck is nesting. The rats kept getting her eggs so she is now in a huge plastic crate with sheer sides. Male Call duck is sitting next to it in the hope she will emerge. (She only comes out at night to eat and swim – sensible duck!)

     Friday was the Lunch Club. The leader was away, so she had asked me to go round as people were drinking  their coffee, show them the menu and ask what they wanted to eat. Easy, you might think. The trouble is, I am usually tucked away in the kitchen, so I don’t usually see any of them and I don’t know their names. So, when I took their order, I wrote it next to their names and added a short description in the margin (wearing peach cardigan, dressed in red, that sort of thing.)

     All was going fine until some helpful person turned on the heating and they all took off their cardigans and jackets. There is something indistinguishable about a group of ladies with short grey hair all wearing home knitted jumpers. They looked identical. I kept asking people for the second time what they wanted to eat. They were confused, I was confused, the list was a mess. If I am asked to do it again (which I doubt) I will ask if I can put a small ink spot on their cheek when I have taken their order so I can keep track. Should go down well.

Hope all is well with you. Take care, Ax

Letters to a Sister : 1

Posted by

2


Ugh, yesterday was a horrible evening.

In the afternoon was Baking Club (a few teenaged girls come round, we bake something nice and have a short Bible study.) Anyhow, yesterday was very hard work. I was feeling hormonal (grumpy) and we ran out of time, so the Bible bit was really rushed and not very interesting. We are trying to make cupcakes for a fundraiser. The idea is that we will invite all our friends and family round for an afternoon in June, give them a cupcake and a cup of tea and collect donations to help stop child trafficking. We started making them yesterday – each girl made thirteen, twelve to go in the freezer and one to take home. But it took ages. In the end, they made the cakes and the icing and I said I would put the icing on later, when the cakes were cool.

They all made different flavours. Suzie made chocolate ones, with chocolate icing made using Nesquik. I iced them (they looked good) and put them in the freezer. James then wandered into kitchen, saw the remains (all over kitchen) and asked if I had bought new Nesquik because the stuff in the larder was out of date. I checked. It was. Bother.

Then had one of those struggles with conscience – checked ingredients and it was just sugar and flavourings, no milk powder, so it would be okay. Wouldn’t it? But what if it wasn’t and I made everyone sick? What if I killed someone’s granny? Decided was not worth the risk. Texted Suzie’s mum and told her to not let Suzie eat the icing, then scraped all the icing off all the other cakes. After ages, decided it wasn’t coming off very thoroughly, so I would eat denuded cakes and bake fresh ones tomorrow and never mention it to Suzie.

Took naked cakes to freezer in garage. Freezer completely full because one in kitchen has died. Then David arrived to ask if dinner was ready. Told him I was having a crisis. He offered to make space in freezer while I cleared up. I believe it is now all in alphabetical order. Super.

Jim started to cook dinner (macaroni cheese with bacon and leeks and chicken pieces – I  killed two of the cockerels last week.) I continued to ice the other girl’s cakes. Then Becky arrived home. Went to do her washing and informed me that dog had pooped all over utility room floor. Was not very grateful to her for telling me. She left and hid in room for a bit.

Finally, cleared up poo, cleaned up very messy kitchen, finished making dinner and fed all the animals.

Had big glass of wine.

Hope your evening was better than mine.

x

Paris

Posted by

2


Image 5  Paris

     For many years, despite many many hints, I never went to Paris. My husband informed me that it was to be the epitaph on my gravestone: She never went to Paris.
Finally, in 2009, I stopped waiting for romantic husband to take me and decided to go with my daughter. For the record, I have been three times since (once with romantic husband, who clearly felt left out.) Not being a great traveller, we decided to go by train. My organised (if not romantic) husband booked the tickets for us and a night in a hotel.
We left home in good time and travelled up to St Pancreas with loads of time to spare. We found it rather funny that husband had taken us to station so early and spent an hour wandering around shops and having lunch in a cafe. We then dawdled to the platform entrance about ten minutes before train was due to leave. I then discovered that unlike a ‘normal’ train, you have to have your luggage checked and go through passport control when catching a train abroad. Everyone was very stressed by how late we were and we were whisked through security and boarded train just as it was leaving.
Train was easy and comfy and we had a meal as we travelled. After a while we went through a big tunnel. As we emerged on the other side we remarked on how short the tunnel had been and how the French countryside looked exactly like England.
We then drew into Ebbsfleet station and realised that we weren’t actually in France yet! When we did finally arrive in Paris, it was all very easy. We left the station and followed signs for the taxi rank. The trip was supposed to be to improve my daughter’s French before her GCSE. I realised how important this was when she declared, “Oh, I can see the French word for ‘taxi’. Look, it’s written on all their cars. It’s ‘Parisian'”

Image 4

     We stayed in Hotel du Louvre and I would highly recommend it. If you are not a confident traveller, it is near enough to walk to the Louvre, the opera house and along the river to the Eiffel tower. The staff were friendly, it was clean and they have a wonderful restaurant. Just beware if you have hot chocolate in the bar, it is unexpectedly expensive (much cheaper to order it on room service.)

     Checked in and walked around. No guide book, so passed lots of buildings that were clearly ‘something’ but no idea what. Took lots of photos. Bought a very French cake in a very French patisserie.

Image 6

      Went to the Louvre. Finding the Louvre was easy (it was next to our hotel.) Finding the entrance was more of a challenge. We spent a long time trying various doors. Eventually realised that the pyramid in the centre of the courtyard was in fact, the entrance. Felt rather silly. Saw Mona Lisa (and other stuff.)

P1040583

     Went to Le Nemours cafe. It happens to be right next to our hotel (you may be noticing a theme here) but it is also a perfect French cafe. It seems to appear in ALL films set in Paris. It has the wicker backed chairs, the round tables outside, the half curtained windows, etc etc. It is also (for Paris) quite cheap.

Image 1 Image

      Walked to Opera house. Fancy. Went to Lafayette – a shop which is more fancy than the opera house. I do not like shopping but this one is worth a visit, if only to see the domed glass ceiling and all the balconies.

      Walked along river to Notre Dame. Happened to be inside when choir was practicing, which was pretty perfect.

       Saw gargoyles and stained glass windows.Image 2Image 3

      Got taxi back to station and train home. Taxi driver charged us an extra euro because we put bags in the boot. Not sure if that was normal but my French was not good enough to argue.
Arrived home and husband told us the name of all the buildings we had photographed and suggested we took a guide book next time.

      Next visit was in 2011, when I repeated the trip with son who was about to do his GCSE. This time we drove to Ebbsfleet and parked there. Much easier if you live in the South.

      On the train, I suggested that he should work out how to say, “We realise it is too early to check in but please could we leave our bags while we look around Paris,” ready for when we arrived at the hotel. Son told me that GCSE French does not cover that sort of thing. I informed him he had over an hour on the train to learn how, as my French is almost non existent. He wrote copious notes. When we arrived at hotel (same one as before. It’s nice) he read out his sentence. They did not completely understand but spent a long time explaining to him what he should have written. They then showed us around the hotel, explaining everything to my son in very simple French. Please note: My main suggestion for anyone visiting France is learn a little French. I found that if we spoke bad (in my case, very very bad) French, then everyone was really helpful and did their best to help us, often answering us in English so that we understood. People who just ask in English seem to have a much less friendly reception.

      We did much the same things as when I visited with my daughter, though not the shop and not the hour trying to find the entrance to the Louvre.

Image 8Cool statue of lion playing football in Louvre.

Image 7 Man feeding rabbit to his dog. Am not sure why he is naked but he is being very careful where dog puts           his paws!

      We also discovered the water taxi/bus which goes up and down the Seine. It was easy to buy tickets and you can get on and off where you want.

     We also went to a cafe right outside Notre Dame cathedral, overlooking the river. We ordered drinks and the friendly(!) waiter offered me a slice of gatueau. He then asked if I would like cream with it. When the bill arrived, I realised it was the most expensive cake I have ever eaten. I think the cream alone was about 6€. I told myself I was paying for the view and swore son to secrecy. Please note: Always worth checking prices!

     Paris is lovely. You can wander around the streets, walk next to the river and eat in little cafes. Everyone is friendly (as long as you speak French, even bad French) and there is lots to see. One day I might even venture further than a mile from the Louvre……

P1040593

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary