I've been up for hours...

This morning at 6.10am I was up and at 'em.  I went swimming at a local outdoor pool.  Yes, that was me, that was, thrashing out lengths before the sun had risen.  Well, it was up, but not out this morning.  Not sure if this is something I want to commit to on a regular basis, but I do feel as if I have had a little adventure all of my own already today.  Now I have officially finished (for now anyhow) my RC classes (final weight loss 9lb) I don't want to let my regular exercising drop, as I am starting to see a little of the shape emerging that I had many moons ago and I feel better about myself.    Apparently inactivity is now recognised as killing as many people in the UK as tobacco-related deaths.  Blimey. 

On that cheerful note, here is a luverly cake I made the other day from this recipe:

It is very moist, was very easy to do, but if you use spelt flour (as I did) I think a little milk chucked in at the end would not go amiss. 

I have managed a couple of lunches al fresco this week:

Believe it or not, I don't even really like Diet Coke all that much, despite the frequent appearances on my table. 

I picked up Fay Ripley's book Family Food at the library and found it to be very good, actually.  She touts quite simple do-able meals.  Last night we had this:

Btw, the food in the bowl is not the food in the book - this was lunch.  (spot the ubiquitous can of Diet Coke? haaaa haaaaaaaaaaa)
The food in the book turned out to be v.simple and v.tasty.  There is a 'hearty soup' in there too, which I have my eye on, but I have to get it past Mark and Oliver under a different guise, as the last hearty soup I rustled up closely resembled wallpaper paste and they have never let me forget it.  Bloody pearl barley, that's what I say. 

This very prettily wrapped parcel arrived in the post for me yesterday:

It was.....

This!

How fantastic is that?!  The apron, obvs,  not the pseudo-chef with the manic grin who is wearing it.  I have wanted an apron for a long time - I have just not wanted to splash out for a wipe-clean pvc one, nor an overpriced twee one.  But this one, THIS one - is unique, is made from stunning fabric, is exactly the design I wanted and is all mine.  It has pockets, buttons and everything, which you can see better in this blog post link,  and, best of all, it was made for me as a gift, and to have something made for me is rare, and therefore very special.  So thank you, thank you Mrs TT, you are a gifted lady and very kindhearted. 

Popped out to Killerton in the week on a hot day, for a picnic lunch. 

And I drank ginger beer that day, so there.

So, who's your money on for lighting the Olympic flame?  David Beckham or Seb Coe seem likely, although I would so love it to be someone completely different.  Prince William would be very popular (though a Royal is unprecedented).  I hope they don't choose some complete numpty.  (ie, someone I don't approve of ha ha).

Tonight is the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games in London.  After years of spouting about how we must go and see the games for Oliver's sake - this is the only time they will be in our country in his lifetime blah di blah, we are, in fact, going to see nothing.  Nada, zip, zilch.  And it all boils down to - not being arsed.  Ne'er mind.

Anyhow, what I find interesting is the speculation surrounding this particular opening ceremony, and the mutterings about how we are going to 'top Beijing'.  Well, newsflash - we can't, and won't in the wow stakes. However,  I am going to stick my neck out here and say that I think our opening ceremony will be unique, and indicative of the 'Britishness' which makes us so proud of the value of being British.  And that, my friends, would be job done.

self indulgent waffle

At last, some al fresco dining:

Lunch yesterday. (curried beef mince and naan).  Nice.

Some new pretties for my scrapbooking on Saturday:

Still not sure about this:

Carry on regardless.

Tonight I am going along for my last Rosemary Conley class.  (Still can't remember whether I had blogged about joining that or not?)  I joined just after the army exercise class debacle.  This is my eighth week, and I have lost 8lbs.  You can't really see it, and I can barely feel the difference, apart from feeling a bit better and a bit trimmer.  I can't face keeping this up for lengthy periods though, as a) to lose any more weight would be bloody hard and I KNOW I wouldn't keep it off - I already have increased my exercise, cut down the wine and cut the pigging and b) I find calorie counting very at-odds with eating 'good food' and I get resentful.   There is a lot of focus within the dieting community on low calorie foods, and many of these are full of bad stuff.  I find myself reading the articles about people who have lost 5 stone or more, and their 'before and after' styles of eating make me want to cry.  If I had to face life with a handful of rasisins for a mid-morning snack and a chicken salad for tea for ever more, well.  Think I'd take up marathon running to give myself a bit of leeway. 

I like a pizza now and then, I like to have a homebaked muffin with a coffee on the odd morning when I have them around.  I like to cook hearty foods without having to compile a long list of calories and fats beforehand.  This said, I also do like to cook sometimes without the addition of fat and find it tastes nice (curried beef mince) and I also do get a bit of a kick out of saying 'no thanks' to the offer of biscuits and sweets, because I know really don't need them. 

Dilemmas, dilemmas.  It's all about moderation.  Life in moderation.  

This is a bit of a blither about the work, life and times of me, me, me, so feel free to skim or skip.

On a couple of evenings a week I work at the local hospital as a ward support clerk.  This mostly entails trundling around the wards throughout the evening checking that the patients they have listed on their white boards match the patients recorded on the computer system as being there.  (ha!)  If they don't it's a case of either admitting or discharging people as necessary.  The real skill in the job lies in getting one of the nursing staff to commit to a better answer than 'er, um, if they're not on the board then they must have gone home', or, my personal favourite, 'yeah, she went to Budleigh, or Exmouth, or somewhere like that', which is what I got the other night.  This is, of course, assuming there is a nurse, any nurse, available for comment.  More often than not, it's like bloody Tumbleweed Town and I am left leafing aimlessly through piles of notes trying to match people to paperwork.  Maintaining accurate patient movements under these circumstances makes the job a little frustrating and I often end up in a filthy rage, cussing and a-swearing back in our little office. 

This was pretty much the case last night, when I was working alongside (there are two of us on any one evening) a woman I call Polly Pineapple.  She is, exactly as you would imagine her to be with this name.  Bubbly, positive, sweet, nice.  That aside, I call her PP because she eats fresh pineapple on a daily basis, and has done, apparently for many, many years.  We often have the pineapple debate of an evening when I challenge the availability of fresh pineapple and she is adamant (and I believe her), that she 'just always has fresh pineapple'.  She obviously knows a secret or two because she has just had her 50th birthday, and boy, she looks good.  As fresh as a pineapple. 

Last night she popped out of the office across to the kitchen (presumably on the hunt for fresh pineapple) and by the time she came back,  I had taken a phone call and was in a temper.  'Blimey' she laughed, 'I only went over there for two seconds, what happened?!'  I explained to her that in my world, things can tilt from good to bad and vice versa very suddenly and she remarked  'well, it must be on a dodgy axis or something then' to which I threw my head back and cackled out loud.  Oh yes.  Life on a dodgy axis indeed.

Give us this day our daily bread

Having scared myself witless reading this lately, I picked up some spelt flour at Sainsburys today with the good intentions of making wholesome food with which to feed my menfolk. 

If you have no knowledge of this book, it is basically about giving up wheat.  Last autumn, Mark went wheat free and dairy free for a few months.  I tried wheat free for a while, and it would be fair to say that we both felt 'better' and lost a bit of weight.  A pain though, as an incredible amount of foodstuffs contain wheat.  'The book' says that the main cause of any food intolerance is overconsumption.  Certainly in Mark's case, having gone veggie around 14 years ago, his diet has centred on meals around meat-free processed foods and they all contain wheat.  Of course they do, it's a filler ingredient, a bulker-outer.  Apparently there is more of a problem with food intolerances in the US with peanuts and corn because of the same theory - overconsumption.  In addition to this, the wheat we use today bears little resemblance to the wheat used by our forbears, the healthy wheatgerm 'bit' is discarded from it and as the kernel is so small it absorbs much of the pesticides and nasties we use for crop control.  As the body recognises these nasties as toxins, the liver tries to cope with them, and when it cannot, it stores them in fat cells where they sit.  Forever.  Being evil, and fat.  I shall never look at a loaf of Hovis in the same light. 

I was also inspired by this post over on the Quince Tree blog, (see blog feed on the right) which is such an unfussy and sensible approach to food.  I have been massively put off of making bread in the past because a) I am quite lazy and b) I am crap at it.  It's the kneading, you see.  It's hard.  I puff, I pant, I sweat and then I get cross and then I think '**** it, that'll do', and it never does.  Bread making machines?  Don't even go there.  I used my bread maker to make jam in, and it was bloody brilliant at that.  Shame it was so rubbish at the job for which it was created....

Sooooo, freshly buoyed up with enthusiasm, I managed to produce these results:

Not too shabby, but I think maybe it would have done better with more than two and a half minutes kneading.  Still, at least I haven't contributed further to the load of toxins making merry in our livers already.

He liked it.

That's alright then.  My poor boy is already having to eat and drink enough chemical-filled products because of the diabetes.  If he needs it - I'll knead it.

winding down to summer

Well, MQ#2 didn't really materialise into a Quest at all, although I am not fussed about it.  Oliver started collecting these little beauties:

Trading cards which come in packs, free, and handed over from the reception desks upon request.  There are 56 in all, and show pics and info on various museum exhibits.  Clever huh?  Since this is our local museum, I have plenty of time to think about how we can use these cards and go back many more times over the coming 12 months. 

Oliver's ripple blanket is underway and, hooked on a no 5 hook, this is progress thus far:

I think it a tad garish, but he is choosing colours as we go, and he likes it.  So that's OK then.

I have expressed misgivings about stopping 'work' with Oliver over the summer, as I really don't see this benefitting him greatly.  The complete absence of structure in our days usually leaves us both irritable and with a sense of under-achievement, so, at his suggestion, (oh so joyfully tying in with my unspoken ideas), he wants to do one Museum Quest a week, one maths session per week, and read 'pretty much every day'.  The last one is a bit of a big deal for him, being deeply suspicious of the joys of reading.  He saw the Summer Reading Challenge on Blue Peter (God love 'em) and came to tell me he wanted to take part in it.  So off we trundled to the library (before the last syllable had left his lips), taking out his first book.  Here it is along with my latest passion-ette.

He is over halfway through, and to my delight, he is really making the effort to sit down and read it on a daily basis, chapter by chapter.  At the Docs last week he sat in the waiting room reading, and when I came out he tripped along after me carrying the open book and started reading again in the car saying he just wanted to finish a 'good bit'.  Can't tell you how happy this simple little moment made me. 

Laters.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...

I sometimes wish I had set up a 'specialised' blog - that is a blog with a sole purpose.  Like crochet and crafting, cooking, or home-edding, or just ranting and raving about anything which takes my fancy on a daily basis.  Then I could set up some relevant advertising on it, sit back and watch the lolly roll in.  heh heh.  This seems to be what some people have done, and continue to do successfully,  earning squillions doing something they were going to do anyway and enjoy!  It is so right, yet seems so wrong....

My blog does, however, sum up my life as a whole - a bit of a jack-of-all-trades and master of none.  In my little mind I have a fuzzy long term aim of getting my blog printed out into a book format for Oliver - a record of his childhood and the pointless ponderings of his frazzled mother.  With this 'goal' shining like a light in the dark (ha ha) I cannot branch out into specialist blogging, or the essence of it will be lost. 

An aside ramble here, I had a strange dream once (one of many, many, strange dreams I have on a regular basis) where there was a phrase used by an anonymous wise person of no age, race or gender.  (probably some creepy manifestation of my subconscious) ;  'For the want of Christmas, a large gift will be lost in between'.  Now this has stuck in my mind for years and I take it to mean that I am so busy looking ahead for the next big thing, that I am not looking right under my nose at the delights that I already have in my hand.  A reasonable interpretation?  Not so much a case of not seeing the wood for the trees, but seeing the wood instead of the trees?

Meanwhile, back in the real world, the daisy ripple was finished a week or so ago.  I have struggled with the end of this blanket, as it is a gift, and I feel it should be 'finished' by a posh edge.  However, in my opinion, edging this type of blanket makes it look like a four year old has hashed together some random stitches for practice:

Here it is finished, and one side edged.

Yuk.  Four times, yes, four times I whipped along an edge with various stitches to try and master it, but it looked so crappy that I am leaving it un-edged.  Sulk.  It is sitting, crossly folded up it has to be said, in my project basket until I can bear to wrap it up and have done with it.  I just don't want to see the edges again and feel that familiar sense of failure. 

On the bright side, Oliver took a shine to it in it's later stages and asked me to make him one.  This has cheered me for three reasons.  1) it is fab to be asked to make something.  2) it means I get to start a new project (could say more about this particular delightful prospect) and 3) I get to buy more yarn.

More frabjous day.  Said new yarn arrived on Saturday and I had started a-rippling the previous evening with the yarn I already had.  (cheerful black). But, there was a hitch.  A bloody big avoidable hitch.  When I discovered what it was, I could have kicked myself.  No, really, I considered it as an option as payment for my utter stupidity.  I wanted to try a more pronounced ripple for this blanket, and fell upon this pattern on Le Monde du Sucrette's blog.  This is a graphic pattern, which I don't generally use, as I am more of a words gal, but it looked so simple.  HAH!  Again, I forgot my Lack Of Attention To Detail Disorder, printed it out and off I went.  Hours later (and the next day, no less,  it was looking all wrong, I had aching eyes and was getting crosser by the stitch.  It took a few more hours to have the lightbulb moment which thrust my error into glaring, obvious and embarrassing light. 

When I printed off the pattern, I printed it onto A4, portrait size.  This meant that the last third of it was missing.  And I didn't notice!  Bloody hell, really I do worry about myself sometimes.  This wouldn't be too awful if it was just the pictures of the stitches that were missing, but half the words were missing too!!!!!  Oh the shame.  I would call it a schoolboy error but that would be just too insulting to schoolboys, who surely would not have made such a twatty mistake. 

So, a hasty re-print onto A4 landscape resolved the ahem problem, and off I went again.  Here are the colours he has chosen, although I have severe misgivings about the green.  It really doesn't 'go' in my opinion, but he is happy with them, and apparently it will be 'epic'.  Based on current form, I wouldn't hold your breath there my dear. 


The pattern, by the way, is called 'ripples of happiness'.(!)  In my mind, I think of it as ripples of many very bad swear words. 

Anyway, do check back in a couple of days because we have been asked along by friends to the museum tomorrow - oh yes, MQ#2 is afoot - and I will be recounting my tales of gone-awry good intentions and clipboards being stamped on for all to mock. 

I am bloody determined this will be a good one for Oliver.  I am. 

MQ #1 - Buckland Abbey

Hmm, where to begin. 

I knew Oliver had certain reservations about said Quest, but in home-ed world, an expression of reluctance to voluntarily engage and enthuse whilst embarking on a new project is not unexpected, nor strange.  In fact, the heavy sigh and metaphorical dragging of the heels goes hand in hand with the whole ethos, so I decided to gird my loins (again) and once more into the breach, dear friends.

It was bloody hard work and I felt my temper rising on more than one occasion.  Head on into the hurricane saw me throwing a mini tantrum in the treasures room and hissing loudly over Oliver's shoulder whilst he went for the world record in 'deliberately painfully slow writing just to annoy one's mother.'  Mark, to his credit, remained very calm and kindly throughout the day, but he does not have the 'benefit' of my experience with the heel-dragging (Oliver) and subsequent dummy-throwing. (me).  Later he was to tell me that bits of it were boring, (I beg to differ) I should not have expected so much from him (I know) and that I should be aiming to find bits of it that Oliver did find stimulating and focus on them (I know I know I know).  Hindsight is a cruel mistress.  And really, I think by now I should know better.  How we home-ed parents keep falling into the same holes again and again is very depressing.  I have since had a chat with Oliver, agreed my expectations put too much pressure on him and said it would be different next time.  Oh yes, it will be. 

Anyhoo,  Buckland Abbey was very beautiful, steeped in history, and full of interesting things. (I thought so anyway, sulk).  It was the home of Sir Francis Drake and so there was lots of maritime history in evidence.

The Drake coat of arms:

 It means 'greatness from small beginnings' (near enough).  I like this idea.

Drake's drum, beat in battle at sea:

  Interesting:

Also, before the reformation in tudor times, it was home to an order of Cistercian monks.  This (the great barn) is where they stored their foodstuffs:

Bet it blew a hoolie up the cassock in here of a winter.
These are bits Oliver enjoyed the most:

Sic parvis magna indeed.

Museum Quest

I picked up this a while back.

It lists all (I think) the museums in Devon.  There is a little pic and blurb about each, and there are 48 in total in this booklet.

I have decided that we are going to visit each and every one of these museums over the course of the coming year, which means roughly one a week.  The idea is that it feels like a bit of a quest, and for Oliver to treat these visits as mini field trips.  He seems to loathe reading and writing, and this is a constant source of angst for me, as I love both and am pretty damn sure it has made my 'educational journey' through life a million times easier and more enjoyable.  I am hoping that this quest will appeal to his sense of adventure and interest in history, whilst enabling us to get out and about more, like we used to.  I am also looking to free us up a little from the constraints of an 'at home timetable' which we succumbed to at the beginning of the year.  Although it has worked a treat, I am loathe to abandon the whole 'work ethic' for the summer during the school hols and want to keep ticking over with this. 

Fully charged with enthusiasm for 'The Quest' I have been out on Oliver's behalf and bought a clipboard and ring binder to house the reams of paper he will be filling with historical and interesting facts (!) and re-joined the National Trust.  (some of the museums are NT places). 

I am not yet sure what to be looking for in a finished piece for Oliver - chose an artefact and write 3 interesting facts about it?  Give him the camera to take a few snaps of things he likes and write down something (anything) about them?  Sketch a little pic and label it?  When Oliver does write, he has wonderful control over a pen, and writes beautifully. (spelling is a bit of a work in progress though, I have to say).  He can read fluently and with nice intonation - when he wants to.  Sigh.  His mouth drooped a little when I floated The Quest idea last week and he muttered 'oh no' with great heavy gusto.  It doesn't bode well, but he fully understands and appreciates that a large part of educating him at home depends on (among other things) his co-operation, so I am at least confident he will give it a good go.  I am also pretty confident he will grow in enthusiasm with this once it is underway and we plan our weekly trips. 

There are some museums a little out of reach - namely those in north Devon, and I reckon there are about 9 or so which will give me a little trouble in terms of extra time and effort getting there, but we can make proper trips out of those, or fit them in on family breaks.  I intend to leave the awkward ones til the end of the year, when putting in the extra effort will seem more worth it in order to complete our Quest.  Mark seems pretty keen on this idea too, which always gives things a bit more of a boost.  He has suggested that we go to Buckland Abbey today, in Yelverton, so hopefully, MQ #1 will be underway!  I think the NT places will be a little easier to work on, as they usually produce a quiz of some sort, and the reading and writing elements I want Oliver to do are a little more 'guided' without me needing to prompt.  We'll see.

Laters!