Friday 11 November 2011

weddings and wonderings...

Consistency's a funny thing. It's something I feel I've always lacked - and though I tend to love the idea of it (and sort of believe it could be the answer to all my woes), the reality is another matter. I seem to actively resist it. It struck me a couple of days ago when I came to class (I'm doing Yet Another Course, lest my brain atrophy completely) and sat down in a new seat. I looked around and realised that every one of my classmates was sitting in the same place they'd taken in the first session, three weeks before. But why? Were they worried about offending the people next to them? Why, for that matter, do people sleep on the same side of the bed? Surely it's nice to have a change every now and then, see the cracks in the ceiling from a different angle? Anyway, maybe the fact that I'm even asking these questions explains a lot about me and my life.

On a cheerier note, I have been doing some wedding-planning! The date is set, the invites have been lino-cut and letter-pressed (By J) and sent. It's just the venue we're having a wobble over. We want outdoors, a bonfire and a marquee and a samba band and a weekend of fun and games and music. We found a beautiful woodland, complete with glamping accommodation - yurts, cabins, cottages..the problem is all the rules! No noise, no amplified music, no ceilidh, no samba band, no fire except in one designated spot...and even the threat of being asked to turn down what little music we ARE allowed. Humph. Anyone would think we were using the site as a favour as opposed to paying £*%"*^*&??!! for it. Watch this space.

Monday 31 October 2011

Dadda and dadda and pineapple swoon

I've been out and about a fair bit this month; I have two voluntary jobs (though if your definition of voluntary job is 'work you don't get paid for' I have about seventeen), and have started two courses, each an evening a week. J has taken over more of the childcare. Already the baby calls us both 'dadda!' - or perhaps, as J has it, he has no word for me because I'm never there. More likely (I think) that despite recent absences he has no need to call for mama because I'm still more or less ubiquitous; I'm part of his very psyche so he scarcely misses me. Ahem. Time will tell.

I think the sudden rush of Doing Things which don't involve the children has been brought on my the end-of-summer back-to-school panic of everyone else having jobs or studying to go back to, an I still have no money and essentially no real idea what I'm going to do, career-wise. I'm torn between my head which tells me to appreciate this precious time when the children are still so small, and my heart which is screaming “stop talking about babies!” (pace Kate Beaton)

J managed to get out and enjoy the Beer Fest – he went with a beer-barrel-sponsor, and liking the VIP exclusivity of the tasting is planning to sponsor one himself next year. They tried to drink through the counties but only got as far as Wiltshire, which ale apparently tasted of white wine. He has taken up running since then, and cuts rather an odd figure. Firstly because he runs the opposite way around Queen's Park to everyone else; second, he actually runs, rather than jogs; and finally, he has vowed not to shave his beard until he finishes his pHd. The effect is a cross between Mujahideen and Seventies folk singer on a mission.

We had Larkin's naming ceremony in Stanmer Park on Apple Day. We asked people to bring him a poem or piece of advice and got some beautiful offerings (including two surprisingly optimistic Philip Larkin poems) and the following advice: 'Always remain alert! The world needs more lerts'). We had the last of the amazing weather and have been stuck indoors since. On the upside, we have discovered a great website – for babies! Www.owlieboo.com is for people who think there's nothing wrong with encouraging your one year old to play computer games, if it gives you five minutes' bloody peace.

Finally – I have been lucky enough to start learning clowning with the Hanover-legendary (and some would say rather alluring) Mr Pineapple Head. That's all. I just wanted to boast. Read it and swoon.


Tuesday 18 October 2011

zoca-low down

School's back, and thank the lord for that. I saw a survey suggesting parents spend an average of £341 per term on each child. Really? On what?? I mean, obviously mine are too young to be clamouring for French horn lessons or tennis coaching (neither looking terribly likely at this point, unless it's lessons in how to build a French horn out of lego), and we don't have the expense of uniforms; but still – are these parents buying gold-plated compasses? Filling lunchboxes with fugu sashimi and foie-gras sarnies? Or is it that parents feel obliged to bow to the legendary power of peer pressure and buy the latest thing - scooter, DS game, designer satchel – lest their offspring be (horror of horrors) deemed uncool? Meh. Kids would be a great deal more resistant to peer pressure (which is over-egged anyway) if their parents were less worried by it and taught them that coolness isn't something you can buy. It's just stuff and it won't make you happy.

Our school has a lovely new garden, playground and pond (with a below-surface safety grill, natch) which looks great. All paid for by Amex, so there are some advantages to being educated next to a building site. That, and an in-depth knowledge of crane structure. Jem has always had an eye of such engineering matters. He was asked in an audition for an crayon advert recently to draw a rocket – an ad exec's idea of a rocket, multi-coloured and zooming through stars and planets - until Jem put him right by drawing a technically accurate space shuttle, in grey, before coldly explaining that it was not zooming, it was still on the landing pad (which he had also drawn).

Here in Hanover – and this year for the first time, all across Brighton – we have a thing called Zocalo. It's an event where at a set date and time you turn off the telly and come out to meet your neighbours. People put out chairs, bake cakes, share food. It'll be running next year, and you can join in too. Go here http://www.facebook.com/pages/Zocalo-Brighton/140978452657219 for more info. If you took part last month, I hope you enjoyed Zocalo as much as we did – despite a chilly start to the afternoon, by 5pm we had about 10 people crowding the pavement by ours, (plus a load of kids upstairs), and we had home-made lemonade and cake. It was lovely. Next time all we need is not to have to share the pavement with cars. That would make all the difference.

Oh, while I remember! Don't forget to light a lantern for Halloween and encourage your little local trick-or-treaters – it's an ancient British tradition dating back to pagan times (not a new-fangled American idea, as some believe) and another chance to meet your neighbours. And eat Haribo. Hurrah!


Sunday 16 October 2011

Clap Clap

Our next door neighbours are selling their house, and my partner J has been fantasising about buying it – not to knock both houses into one, but actually having two houses, one for each of us. Possibly with a child-sized tunnel between them as a concession to ‘family-life’. Which need not imply any problems in our relationship, just a deep-seated need not to have to have to deal with Someone Else’s stuff and Someone Else’s décor, not to mention Someone Else’s piles of bloody books. The idea does have appeal. Anyway, on a far more practical note, we are planning to build a wood-fired sauna in our back shed (which used the be the outside loo). No, really. I can’t wait.

I’ve been feeling a little snowed-under lately; my to-do list has to-do lists, and I can’t make any headway because every time I try, a child seems to need feeding or cleaning or I fall asleep. What better solution, then, that going away (to France) and then going away again (to a festival) and then – guess what?! – going away again, camping. Foolish? Perhaps. But fun. The festival in question was Playgroup festival, aka known as everyone-you-know-from-Brighton-and-beyond-in-a-field-wearing-antlers. The bands were all locally-sourced, the setting was beautiful, and there was lots to do. It was basically a big party with all your mates’ mates. I was running games of manhunt and sardines (for grown-ups, obviously – the kids were busy watching Mr Pineapple Head). Jem’s favourite thing was the tent showing continuous re-runs of Felix the Cat. My least favourite things were the toilets, which were disgraceful, the lack of bins, and the complete failure of ‘Family Camping’ provision which meant exhausted parents and grumpy kids on day two and three. Still I trust these are teething problems for an otherwise very enjoyable event.

Larkin will be a year old soon, and this week said his first words – a sort of mangled ‘clap-clap’ (or perhaps, J suggests, ‘crap crap'), and ‘um um’ for food. So if this proves portentous, he’s either going to be a chef, or a performing seal.



Thursday 6 October 2011

Musings from the Muesli Mountain, Brighton

Funny how, in this age of supposed equality, the same complaint is heard again and again from all the intelligent, hard-working mothers I know – the difficulty of reconciling career with family. Fulfilling, flexible, part-time jobs are like fairy gold – something you could grow old searching for. We don’t wish to surrender any hope of being financially independent/ valued in the workplace/having a satisfying career. But neither do we want to miss out on our children’s formative years. A generation of kids brought up in nurseries and after-school clubs, no matter how good (and let’s be honest, most of them are just ok) can’t be good. And it isn’t just unfair on women – men are expected to prioritise their careers over their roles as fathers, which is profoundly sad for both dads and children. I don’t know what the solution is but a first step might be actually valuing the role of parent – probably the most important and difficult job to do well.

On a lighter note, I ended up at Lucky Voice karaoke bar again recently and it struck me anew what bloody brilliant fun singing is. I spent a year in Japan so I am well-versed in karaoke bar etiquette (put on Living On A Prayer, Time After Time, and Common People, and avoid rap /hip hop /garage/grime), and for all those who consider themselves not to be fans (who have hitherto only experienced the hideous, achingly-embarrassing British version in a pub with a load of strangers gawping) please reconsider, because this is an entirely different kettle of raw fish. Every song you can think of, from Billy Bragg to Dizzee Rascal, and all your mates in a room, everyone singing along together – awesome.

I also recently went to see Wham Jam Thank You Ma’am (Li Mills’ brilliant pop choir, sister to the Jam Tarts and auntie to Baby Jam), which was fab. They’re looking for more members, too, so if you fancy it, drop Li an email at limills68@hotmail.com

I was working at the Grand Prix a while back (Even got grandstand tickets to sit and watch what appeared to be a very large, noisesome version of Scalectrix) so J took the kids to the open day at Hankham Organics (based near Polegate), which was apparently amazing. They deliver our weekly box, and their veg are gorgeous (if a little kale-heavy occasionally). I did discover the nicest thing you can do with any similar green leaf, though, including pak choi, spinach, spring greens – finely slice, and fry briefly with onion, garlic, butter, and optional bacon or soy sauce. Yum.