it never rains, but it pours.

Well, it's pouring now, that's for sure.  It's half term this week and it's been raining heavily all week.  Personally, I love the rain - it keeps people inside their own houses and not outside in the great blue yonder annoying me, and I love the cosiness of indoor life anyhow, so win-win for little old selfish me....

It isn't too bad for the boy though too, since he likes a fair few indoorsy things too.  We have started to play Gin Rummy together (is that how you spell it??? never had occasion to write it down before) and it's a pretty cool means of getting him to write figures and add up disguised within a game heh heh heh.  Also starting watching our way through Lord of the Rings again, but he has got twitchy and nervous about it (again) so we have stalled halfway through the Two Towers, annoyingly.  All that viewing allowed me to crack on with my big granny stripe blanket, and I am happy to report that I am on stripe 81.5, so a completion date is almost in sight.  I have had to order more yarn (which I do sooooo love to do) to carry on with Oliver's stripey too, and I reckon his is about a quarter ways through.  Think his will be around the 75-80 stripe mark. 

Last weekend saw my little angel head off to cub camp for a weekend of cubbyness and independence.  I think he enjoyed himself - he had a hard time coming to terms with the fact they didn't have the promised disco on Saturday night and instead had a camp fire, but apart from that I think it was a success.  These times away from home, and particularly away from me, are good for him, but I often have to close my eyes and breathe deeply and swallow hard when faced with the misery of his absence.

And so to finish, some cub snaps taken 'en camp':

hooky love (just for you Kim, tee hee)

Before I forget, here is my latest show-and-tell blanket, colours chosen by Oliver:

I had serious misgivings over these colours, and fought bitterly for a multi-coloured stripe.  He originally wanted just three colours, but grudgingly conceded to add in the blue.  I thought it would be very dull.  Shows what I know. And it is for his bed after all....



The granny stripe for our bed is 20 stripes away from completion!  Tres exciting.  Then it's just all the ends to sew in and three or four rows all the way around the outside to finish off.  Onwards and upwards.

Oliver continues to enjoy the social aspects of the home-ed groups he attends, and seems to really enjoy the tutor-led subjects - spanish and science.  These are small groups and I think he is getting alot out of these.  There is talk of a french group starting, using conversation, games and songs mostly, so think that would be great too.  At home he gets on with maths and english stuff (english less willingly, I must admit), but I am trying hard to work on spelling and writing by getting him to work on presenting english in a different way.  His cousin (of the same age) produces the most brilliant handwritten magazines and books on subjects she is passionate about, and inspired by this, he did actually spend time creating a comic strip type story with speech bubbles, which is fab.

I do have other blitherings to share, but really feel to lazy to tappety-tap anymore.  I'll leave you with a pic of Oliver and the first of  his daily activities.  Bloody Pokemon cards.  These are my personal pet hate of toys - loose cards.  I like them stored in boxes, in types.  Oliver likes them stored around the house in random piles and strewn across the usable floor space.  ha ha.  bless.

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.....