A breath of French air

Zut alors, nous avons arrivee home.  Excuse the shocking french, I have just spent ten days using shocking french to communicate in lovely Brittany with the locals who then speak back to me in perfectly fluent english.  I am ashamed.  But not too ashamed to have enjoyed the slow and simple pace of life in the rural backwaters of Finistere.  I shall let the pics tell the story of our hols....

LOVE that overnight ferry crossing.  Cool, quiet, dark cabins, clean, crisp sheets, the gentle sway of the boat as it bobs across the channel....

We were lucky to have a pool at our gite, but this is Oliver attempting to get in - in a wetsuit, so it was a tad chilly....

The view across the front garden to the Chapel of St Margaret.  Embarrassed to say I didn't even cross the road to go and take a closer look at this. 

Here are the boys playing boules in the front garden.  Or petanque, whatever it's called.

The old walled city of Concarneau.  This is where I decided to be tres french, and order a crepe with 'Andouille' for lunch.  I thought Andouille was a local sausage-y thing, but when it came it looked not unlike compressed innards and smelt like pig.  Yukarooney.  I urge even thinking about it.  I will try and find a picture to share my discomfort with you.

Mark and Oliver looking relieved that they didn't order the Andouille.

A spell of unseasonal good weather saw us at Pentrez Plage.  It is such a fantastic feeling splashing around in the surf with the sun on your back.  It so takes me back to holidays as a kid in north Cornwall. 



Don't think you are supposed to feed the Giraffes grass from underneath the fence, but they seemed to like it.  As did the Wallabys, who seemed to have a hankering for acorns....

As did the Otters.

If you happen to read about the sudden unexplained demise of animals in a french zoo, then do let me know.  An autopsy may reveal an excess of visitor-fed foliage and I want to be ready if a google search should lead the investigation my way......

Look at that for a castle.  Trevarez - it is really quite breathtaking.  And it boasted this very E. Nesbit water feature in the garden:

On the last day we visited Oceanopolis in Brest, which cost a fortune and felt very not worth the money.  Nice fish though.

To be fair, they did have sharks, penguins and seals.  Not all in the same tank, I hasten to add, but I still think it was a big cost for not much.  We then headed over to Roscoff to kill a few hours before the overnight sailing home.  I expected Roscoff to be a big bustling scummy port, not unlike Plymouth, but I was massively pleasantly surprised.  We parked (free of course - in Brittany there is no avaricious need to rip people off for stopping on a few feet of land for a couple of hours) near 'centre-ville' and then trundled round the corner to an olde worlde network of streets and shoppes in buildings which had clearly been standing for hundreds of years. 

We went down one little side street and found it to back out onto the sea where we spent a jolly half hour skimming stones.

Yep, I was on this holiday too - that's me that is.  Hitherto unseen in holiday pics. That walkway jutting out behind us was good - you could walk quite a ways out over the swirling waters below and look back to the town.  Very nice little stroll after our last supper en vacances. 

So with the moon rising over the prettiness and quaintness of Roscoff, we boarded the ferry home to Plymouth, where, as we drove through at 6.30am there were people falling out of still open pubs and clubs carrying drinks and looking like the dregs of the earth.  I was deeply ashamed of the image this would portray of this part of the country, and truly feared for any foot passengers who were brave enough to walk off the ferry and into deepest darkest Plymouth.  The comparison with Roscoff was not a favourable one.


On this cheerful note, I will leave you for now.  Lots more to say, but fed up with typing now. 

Laters.

So, here we are then, the start of the Autumn 'term'.  That is, some things that we do kick off again - Cubs, HE group, regular education at home (?!)........  I love Autumn.  I love that wintry feel which creeps in around late afternoon - that nip in the air that says the cold is a-comin' and the smell of bonfires gradually creeping into the chill of the night......oooh, lovely.  I love the wrapping up warm, the cosy afternoons, dimpsy evenings and life in the great indoors.  The falling leaves make it harder to spot the dog poo on a walk however.  You can't have it all.

Current crochet progress:

on my 58th stripe of the granny stripe blanket:

and I have completed 5 big squares for another blanket:

I have had to order in another 'yarn' pack as I will be running out soon - oh frabjous day.

Oliver back off to Cubs:

He didn't get 'Seconder', which he was expecting to get (literally second in charge in the pack) since his 'Sixer' (head pack honcho) had gone up to Scouts and the current Seconder moved up to Sixer.  Instead they moved Oliver's close friend into the pack and made him Seconder instead. Gulp. I could hardly sleep that night (I didn't find out til I arrived home from work late) for worry and anger over Oliver's upset.  It seemed so unfair.  Through a couple of emails to the Cub leader, understanding was restored, and although the position remains the same, Oliver was happy with his leader's comments and I am happy that he is OK with it.  More than anything though, I was pleased that Oliver's disappointment was focused on him not getting the position rather than on the fact his friend did get it.  That seems wholly sensibly proportionate to me, and I recall that as a child I think I would have been eaten up with jealousy and bitterness in such circumstances so I am so happy Oliver is not of that ilk.

Mark has decided after seeing a nutritionist to try a period of wheat and dairy free eating.  First a pricey shop at the local weirdy food store:

Muesli is homemade by my own fair hands (toasted and everything, I'll have you know) and in addition he must have homemade vegetable soup daily.  Fliparooney.  It requires a fair bit of thinking ahead, although I enjoy the challenge of cooking good, wholesome stuff.  I am very interested to see if he loses weight, because if he does - I'm in for that.  It doesn't seem too beyond the pail.

What else, hmm. I managed to pick up Gastritus earlier in the week and endured two days of stomach ache and headache.  It really doesn't look too unbearable written down, but boy, the last few days have been well miserable.  Thankfully friends and family have been able to ensure that Oliver hasn't been too badly affected by my maudlin weeping and wailing and taking to my sickbed, and he has got out to do his normal things.  Thanks to them who know who they are....  And actually, that is a big bummer for the HE family - if you fall ill, you are stuffed.  No shunting your kids off to school and falling into bed for the day, getting a fellow school-run-mum to take your offspring home for fish fingers and chips til the hubby finishes his day at the office.  Phew. Another load off....

As I say, you can't have it all.

Laters.

Interesting....

....difference of opinion on Radio 2 the other day, which quickly descended into an all-out row, over the naming of a 16-year old boy who posted on a facebook page: 'Letz have a riot...' during the recent spate of riots.  You will have to forgive my version of this - I think I probably skim-listen like I skim-read, so this is my gist:  On one side was the Editor of the newspaper which applied for the boy's anonymity to be waived, and on the other some Liberal, he who cannot be named. (because I was not listening properly when they said who he was.  I was driving at the time, in my defence...)  Mr Editor was foaming at the mouth about incitement to riot and the irresponsibility of the Youth of Today, and Mr Liberal was bleating on about the boy's reputation being ruined by some 'stupid comments' on Facebook.  It seems that the boy's parents are concerned that the loss of anonymity and the pending court case could threaten an apprenticeship he has been offered.  Evidently they have little concern that their son thinks it's a good idea to attempt a little incitement to riot.... I digress.

So, I was yelling at the radio in the car at this point at Mr Liberal, since I have a personal hatred towards the power of Facebook and a fear and loathing of the apparent careless attitude towards violence in our society, and Mr Editor was stammering and spitting (I imagine) in reply when they both started yelling louder and louder.  Tres bizarre.  So Mr Radio DJ (think it was Jeremy Vine, but don't quote me on that) cuts in with 'let's have a bit of Elton John'.  So the melodious strains of 'it's a little bit funny....' fill the car. Well, I've decided by now that the Boy deserves all he gets, the parents should be in court too, and bring back the death penalty, when JV comes back on to give us a few more views from listeners (who are presumably listening properly).  One listener quoted John Betjeman and his Slough poem, likening that to this scenario, and said that 'we cannot accept the written word as equivalent to the deed.'  I though this was a very smart statement, actually, and stepped off of my mental soap box momentarily.  One lady (of my age) came on to say that 16 year olds now are quite different to when we were 16 (no kidding) and that they exist in a virtual word.  Their thought process is synonomous with putting it out there on the internet (ie, one assumes she means it is much like opening your mouth before engaging brain).  That makes sense too.  And lastly, one other thing that stuck in my mind was that they (the Youth of Today) need to appreciate that things they say on the internet have the potential to damage the very fabric of our society.   Hear hear.

There it is.  Is there defence against accountability?

Thanks Kathi!!

And thanks to the most simplest of instructions from Kathi, my Cornish scrapbook pal and fellow blogger, I am now able to comment on blogs!  Too long I have been muzzled.....

Following on from last weekends barny over Match Of The Day, I have started to make some accomodating adjustments....

First the barny:  Football, per se.  I find it an incredibly tedious and objectionable sport to follow, given that the players behave appallingly, the fans behave appallingly, there is neither respect nor discipline on or off the field and they are paid disgustingly disgraceful amounts of money to play and still behave like boorish louts.  That aside, I have no 'objection' to Mark watching and enjoying it other than it starts in August and runs until next May and that MOTD is televised Saturday night, Sunday night and then there are the incidental matches, the International matches and the Cup matches.  So, last Saturday, the first day of the Premiership (that's the First Division in old money), I exploded into a tirade of how unfair and unreasonable it was taking over the TV in such a way for 10 months of the year.  I won't bore you with the finer points, but needless to say, it is all my fault for getting rid of the TV and sofa in the 'back room' whereupon said crap football could be enjoyed in peace and isolation.  This TV weighed about as much as me, was wider than me and consequently needed the ugliest corner unit in the world to house its giant-ness (I also got rid of that).

So.  I have moved Oliver (home eddy stuff) into the 'craft room' my craft room, in which I no longer do any crafting.

I will move the computer from it's little corner in the back room onto Oliver's old desk (on the other side of the back room where there are no electric points (worry about that afterwards) and in the resultant spaces from moving the computer will go a comfy armchair (worry about buying one of them afterwards) and a flat screen TV onto the bookcase in the space where Oliver's home eddy stuff lived.  Simples.  MOTD squabbles sorted.  Footballers are still massively overpaid tossers though. 

Oliver made a spell book by crafting a clay tile and attaching it to a hardcover book.  It's very cool. 

And work continues on the Big Blanket. 

I am technically half way on my stripey one, although I reckon it will need to be a bit longer for that real snuggle effect. 

And I still cannot leave comments on blogs.  Apparently it's something to do with 'cookies'.  I really don't even know what computer cookies are, much less know how to sort the problem.  I might end up starting again with a new blogger profile.....

WiPs and Summer so far

No apologies offered for the month long lapse in blogging - those moaning at me for NOT blogging (ahem) see me on a regular basis and I have already bored the tits off you with tales of my life.  Serves you right for logging on for another dose then ha ha.

At the end of the last school term, Oliver was unexpectedly awarded 'Cub Champion' (at Cubs, obviously) which meant he got a medal

and a prize (belt torch - not pictured) and gets to wear this gigantic woggle for the whole of next term.

That should slow him up a bit til he gets used to the extra weight tee hee.  I wasn't there when he was awarded it, but apparently it is awarded at the end of every term to the Cub who has excelled in behaviour, etiquette, kindness and helpfulness.  I am ridiculously proud of him, and for any 'normal' parent - this equates to a fantastic school report.  It is another indication that we have chosen the right path for him thus far, and that we are doing OK with him - unhappy kids do not excel at kindness and helpfulness. 

Oliver went off to the beach with his friend (and mother and her friend who I don't know - 6 kids in all) on Monday.  This meant I had a day to myself, which should be a good thing, but I am finding that the time I am apart from Oliver I spend in a state of tense anxiety imagining all sorts of horrible things happening to him.  I now seem to have reached the stage where I have some warped belief that my irrational and barely controlled panic will somehow keep him safe.  What a twat.  You'd think that all this worry would cause me to be thin, but no.  I actually joined the gym on Monday to tackle some of the ever growing layers of blubber.  I had an induction with a little boy called Chris, who seemed to be labouring under the mistaken belief that an hour of 'cardio' followed by a weights session was a suitable workout for a 43 year old has-been.  In my head I was already replacing said '60 minutes' with '5 minutes' followed by a quick sprint round the weights..... I am optimistic that I will be more muscle-y at the end of my 6 week stint.  Thinking of participating in some of the classes too, although I am a bit scared I might throw up, I am that unfit now.

The three of us went off to Bicton a couple of weeks ago to see 'The Bohemians', a Queen tribute band.  It was all very civilised, and the music was pretty darned good. Here followeth some pics;

See this flower bed -

See that squashed section?  That was Oliver that was.....

We are the Champions.....

And so to crochet.  Crochet, crochet, crochet.  How I love thee.  I have stumbled upon a craft that I can actually do, and is actually useful.  I am working on  a couple of blankets (WiPs - works in progress for you non-crafty types), a granny stripe, inspired by this post on  the Attic24 blog.

So excited by my progress with this, you wouldn't believe.  It actually covers the width of our king size bed quite comfortably, although this is to be the one which hangs around the living room. Or on Oliver's bed in the winter.

And these are my squares so far inspired by this blanket, which is the one I want for our bed.

Bought 4 lovely 'new' bowls on a charity stall yesterday for £1, which sit happily alongside everthing else in my crockery cupboard which doesn't match, just how I like it. 

Aren't they pretty?  And that is not a bowl of pretentiousness - it really is Oliver's breakfast.
Mark and Oliver have joined the Model Boat Club with the idea of  doing something together.  Think Oliver is not as 'into' it as Mark, as Mark is very hands on and good at anything he puts his mind to, but I am hopeful Oliver will be swept up in the enthusiasm of it all.  In any case, it can't be a bad thing for him to trot off with his Dad for a couple of hours and be socialising together and with other people. 

Eduaction-wise - Oliver does not get the summer 'off' as a lot of home-ed kids do (since our timetable and routine is sooooo flexible and varied during 'term' time anyway), but I just want to tick over with some back to basics with reading (library summer reading scheme) and spelling, (phonics stuff) and the odd maths session.  Last night I was told about 'First News', the weekly newspaper for kids, (Thanks Corinna - sorry, don't know how to spell your name!), so dashed off to Sainsburys where I got a copy, and  - lo!  This is Oliver, voluntarily reading the newspaper.

Incroyable.