Here instead is a list, which will show you how deeply embedded in my life is the music and lyrics of Leonard Cohen. Leonard Cohen Song Titles That Are Also Threats or Reprimands Made By Me To My Children This Week. One of Us Cannot Be Wrong That’s No Way To Say Goodbye Is This What You Wanted? Why Don’t You Try? If It Be Your Will Here It Is That Don’t Make it Junk Going Home You Want it Darker? It Seemed the Better Way I didn’t grow up listening to Leonard Cohen. My mother
Portrait of Garnet by his sister or Smiths album cover? In lieu of a proper post, today I have a fun game for you, dear readers. It’s called ‘Are These Songs By The Smiths or Things My Three Year Old Said Today?’. First neat and correct entry on a postcard wins a trip to my house. Second prize is two trips to my house. How Soon is Now? How Do We Know Dead People’s Names? Please Please Please Let Me Get What I want This Night Has Opened My Eyes The Music Sounds Like A War You
I will face the truth about the Pilates DVDs. This is the year I will stop taking Pilates DVDs on holidays with me. I’ve been dragging the same two all over the world for about nine years and do you know how many times I have done Pilates on holidays? Zero times. They make me feel guilty for not doing Pilates on holidays when I don’t even do it when I’m at home. This foolishness has got to stop. I will face the truth that I prefer exercising indoors. I wish I liked running ou
I think I’ve figured out why smart parents make their kids listen to kids’ music. It’s so you can have conversations about how yes, the Wiggles are right, fruit salad is yummy yummy, instead of conversations like we had the other night. We were listening to the Smiths while the kids ate fifty bowls of soba noodles and pushed their tofu around, before declaring it ‘Not to my taste’ (May Blossom) and ‘Plurgh yuck! (Garnet). I sat there silently willing them to eat the tofu so H
While Garnet was sick all he has wanted to do was have me read him books while he languished in my lap. Once day I dragged out a Play School book of nursery rhymes and started singing them, and lo and behold, he joined in. Now as far as I know, the only music that kid has been exposed to in the last six months is the soundtrack to Frozen, the soundtrack to Cats, and the theme tune to the TV shows Peter Rabbit, Peppa Pig and Octonauts. So how does he know ‘Incy Wincy Spider’?
Why the italics, you might ask. What has Gusto done to merit that? Nothing. Gusto is being an exemplary feline. It is the jellicle cats that are the problem around here. The cats created by T. S. Eliot in his 1939 book of poems Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats and made more annoying to the power of infinity by Andrew Lloyd-Webber in 1981. You see, about three months ago May Blossom, Garnet and I tagged along with Other Jess to a Year 6 Production of Cats at the school wher
Come the week of the concert and my mum, who had bravely offered to babysit both May Blossom and Garnet, politely asked how we were going teaching Garnet to drink from a bottle. Ah, yes, that. Great! He’s really coming on, we lied. Honestly, we hadn’t tried since a few attempts when he was about four weeks old. At that point, he was pretty open to new things and happily sucked away at the newborn teat of the bottle for ages, to absolutely no effect. No matter how long it was
Last night, instead of watching an episode of Game of Thrones or playing a game of chess or working on our family tapestry like we normally would, H and I experimented with popular culture and watched The Voice. If you’re not from these parts, The Voice is a TV singing talent show. The twist to it seems to be that there is a round of blind auditions in which the four judges can’t see the singers. Each judge has a buzzer and if they like what they hear they can buzz and spin a
I bought the tickets a few months ago on a whim, because H loves Bonnie Prince Billy, who is a grumpy-looking, balding, blond bearded alt-folk-country musician. I like him too, I think, but I can’t actually remember any of his songs. Whenever I try to summon one up in my head I get a Bon Iver song. Nevertheless, I am excited to be going out. Or I was until I looked at the tickets to see what time the show starts. Nine o’clock. Nine pm. In the night. That means he won’t be fin
I was reminded of those years, from thirteen to sixteen, as I drove the car earlier this week. As part of Operation Sleep In Your Own Damn Bed, May Blossom is categorically NOT allowed to fall asleep in the car or stroller at the moment. Combined with her disrupted (but — hooray — mercifully improving) sleep at night and you have the long-winded explanation of why I was playing ‘Live And Let Die’ by Wings (‘the band the Beatles could have been‘) at top volume. I hadn’t heard
Wearing sandals, thongs, or plastic Melissa shoes. Looking at the photograph ‘Nat and the Girls’ by my clever friend John Witzig, featured over here at Lizzie Garrett’s excellent, always inspiring blog, Tomboy Style. John gave this picture to May Blossom when she was born, but because we are the bosses of her we appropriated for our bedroom wall. Listening to 1960s surf music. Eating mango, lime and ginger jam from Ootong and Lincoln on fresh brown bread from Abhi’s bakery.
reading about monochromes. I had read about this phenomenon years ago here and forgotten all about it. listening to Stornoway. wearing my new Gorman trenchcoat. Idiosyncratic as I am, I do not accessorise it with an ugly patterned turban. eating double chocolate cupcakes with ricotta, bourbon and orange zest. And with only a minimal amount of tears and swearing I made my own ricotta to put in them. drinking water. May Blossom has decided that contrary to what all all childrea