Poor little kid. She and her brother are so prone to ear infections and croup. They just have tiny little respiratory tracts and miniscule Eustachian tubes, positioned in such a way that they don’t really drain well. I find myself eying H, in the cold light of morning after yet another night of no sleep, wondering if it’s his poorly angled face drains or mine that the kids inherited. His ears do look remarkably in line with his nose. But then so do mine. There should be some
The Show is a two-day affair, Friday and Saturday, and a celebration of all things agricultural. It is also, in its own way and perhaps unintentionally, a hilarious celebration of all things a little bit Not Quite Right. An entry in the Porcelain Doll class. The stuff of nightmares. So while outside in the main arena you can watch a proper showjumping competition and serious woodchopping, the winners of which will progress to the regional show and finally to the big one, the
The place was gone to rack and ruin. Only the Lighthouse beam entered the rooms for a moment, sent its sudden stare over bed and wall in the darkness of winter, looked with equanimity at the thistle and the swallow, the rat and the straw. Nothing now withstood them; nothing said no to them. Let the wind blow; let the poppy seed itself and the carnation mate with the cabbage. Let the swallow build in the drawing-room, and the thistle thrust aside the tiles, and the butterfly s
This morning, between baking four huge chocolate cakes and dealing with a toddler suffering from what I thought was fear of the noise the mixer made until I realised it was desperation to lick the batter off the beaters, I finished making the party favours for May Blossom’s birthday party. Party favours aren’t something I had really planned. I might have flung a few sweets into a bought cellophane bag, maybe, if everything else had run smoothly (as if). Realistically, I proba
Where are your friends? If this is some sort of sock conspiracy to make me lose my tiny mind and turn to the cooking sherry before nine in the morning, it’s working. Your reprobate other halves have until 9 am tomorrow to show themselves. After that I will glue eyes onto you and turn you into a family of mixed pastel sock puppets. You will be made an example of. Don’t think I won’t do it. I have glue. I know where to buy eyes. I saw them not half an hour ago at the $2 shop wh
One black and white owl, perched on the screen door. The month of September came to an end and the Mystery of The Toilet Roll Owls was solved. The crafty maker and donor of the little cardboard avian critters was Sarah’s friend Beatrice. I haven’t met Beatrice, but we’ve now corresponded and I think I can categorically say she is a Top Notch Friend. The inspiration for the owls came from the design website Swiss Miss. Knowing that Sarah liked owls, at first Beatrice was just
This coming weekend I am co-hosting a baby shower for one of my dearest friends. I love the idea of throwing parties. I start looking at beautifully styled parties on the Internet and planning how I’ll make pompoms out of tissue paper and suspend them above a table laden with colour co-ordinated iced biscuits in the shape of prams, and I’ll make a cute but tasteful sign – that somehow looks both homemade and professional – from circles of cardboard spelling out ‘Welcome Baby!