Wool

Just finished packing for my Iceland trip- oh it's a hard life. My rucksack is so full of woolly things I can barely close it,and tucked in there somewhere is my skimpy bikini for the thermal baths. I can't bloody wait! We fly out tomorrow from Heathrow, and I'm off to London tonight to join the gang for a pre-trip Babyshambles gig to start things off with a bang. I'm meeting Ellie at London Bridge dressed in my Bette Lynch fur coat and Ugg boots. I may well stand out from the suits. For the trip the four of us are staying in Hotel Bjork in Reykjavik and hiring a car to explore the geysers and beautiful scenery. Watch this space for Iceland adventures.....

Soundtrack: Sigur Ros- Glosoli

Look where pulling gets you...

After yesterday's 10 hour proofreading stint my eyes were so dried out I felt I had been on a 20 hour long haul plane journey. Luckily I got everything done so I didn't need to go in today. If I had I think my eyes would have bled.
BTW has anyone been watching 'Pulling' on Monday nights on BBC2? It's absolutely brilliant- like a cross between Sex and the City, Smack the Pony and Shameless. So funny and, sadly, so true to life. It's the kind of TV comedy I would love to write if only I had the motivation.
Onto a completely different tangent, Louise Wener was on Radio 4 yesterday (thanks Joy for the tip off) talking about child rearing and how much she loves it. Woman's Hour did a special on how bringing up children really effects you, and how there are lots of myths about how wonderful having kids is, even though some people find out different, and experience bringing up children akin to being thrown in a fire. There was Wener arguing my kind of corner, saying that although motherhood is really challenging, it is in fact the most rewarding thing you can ever do. She said that she knows that when she's older it won't be the gigs she's played or the books she's written that make her most proud, but it will be her two kids. Ah- what a lady. I agree, although I haven't had The Book published yet so you never know, it might take precedence. No seriously-I understand that for some women having a child turns out to be something they simply don't enjoy, and find hard to naturally get into. I have been very lucky, or should that be clucky, that I have loved and easily adjusted to it. Mind you- if you were one of the people who saw me liturally on my knees in the middle of Churchill Square Shopping Centre two years ago, weeping, while Sadie tantrumed beside me, you wouldn't know it. It took an hour for her to stop screaming, if I tried to move her she spat at me or kicked me, and people were staring horrified or giving me sympathetic 'maybe we should call Social Services' smiles..
Oh happy days.

Blue Collar Monday

Help! I've just been out and bought some office clothes and it's freaking me out. I guess I'm joining the rat race once more, albeit part time and in a role that I can throw myself into semi-consciously. Well- that's what I'm hoping anyway. If I used my whole brain I might start wondering what the hell I am doing as a writer working as a secretary again, and start foaming at the mouth or something. Oh well. Roll on the regular pay cheques, paid holidays and office politics. Ah- how I have missed it. Next Monday is my start date, which annoyingly meant I had to cut back my Iceland trip by 2 days. I will almost liturally be leaping out of the plane from Reykjavik into my Brighton Royal Sussex County Hospital Kidney Unit chair. Should be an interesting shock to the system.

Soundtrack: Black Box Recorder-Straight Life

Home

Having said that I love Devon for all it's tranquility, I actually started to go a bit loony on our last day there on Friday. Sadie had a high temperature so we stayed in the house all day and the cabin-fever proved to much for me; me who is used to a fairly hectic life, usually consisting of some time outdoors ('Her Indoors' I really am not). Sadie's constant whinging didn't help my waning sanity either. Luckily Saturday a.m we headed off, having blatantly spent too much time just with each other and in the middle of nowhere. We headed straight to London town for a complete antidote to all things rural. Don't get me wrong- I love the countryside, but it was a pleasant surprise to realise that I am an urban girl at heart, who likes to visit green open spaces once in a while, and not the frustrated country-bumpkin wannabe that I thought I was. It's great to realise that where you are is where you really are best.
London was a mad social whirl; we visited my in laws in Hampstead first for lunch. They've got this beautiful big house right by the Heath and it's always a pleasure to drop by. The Who all stayed there when they were filming 'The Kids Are Alright'. How cool is that? And Ridley Scott lives next door! Andy's mum, ever the opposite of all things glamourous, pulled out all the stops for us, and dug out another of her mystery casseroles. This time it had been in the freezer for less than 5 years, unlike the usuals, and we all sat around and did our usual 'guess what animal we're eating' competition, as she never knows one meaty stew from another. I guessed correctly that it was the succulent flesh and small bones of rabbit. She then remembered that the rabbit in question was one she had run over a few years ago and bunged in the boot of her car. She's a salt-of-the-earth Aussie you see. This type of culinery economy is the norm. Incidentally, the bunny stew was delicious.
That evening I ventured across to another of my old haunts, the Betsey Trotwood on Farrigdon Road. I used to enjoy many a lunchtime pint in there when I worked at the Guardian over the road. It's been done up now and taken over by the charming Scotty, Punk Rock Dolly's mate, who is lovely and looks like a young George Best. He's also from Sleaford which is the shithole I come from. He escaped aged 17 just like I did. Punk Rock Dolly and I were at the Betsey to see Pocketbooks, who were fab, despite the very cramped conditions in the basement venue. I took a while to spot my good friend Em, who is the band's singer, as all her fans have exactly the same haircut. When I found her it was great to catch up. I was designated photographer for the night (see blurry pic) and kept getting funny looks from people because I didn't have a black bobbed haircut and I was sort of leaping about to get some shots. Pocketbooks were great and I was sorry that I couldn't join the band later for Singstar back at Em's, but my motherly duties mean I have a midnight curfew most nights. Happy birthday today Em by the way!
We've then spent today gallavanting between Highbury and Hackney, catching up with relatives and friends over wine and food. Andy's brother Prof Tim Spector shared with me his "expert" knowledge of a woman's G-spot (ew- brother in law! but then he's just been quoted in the New Scientist so fair play), while Tom Andrews, ever the sophisticated host, shared with us his ever-revolting tales of too many drugs and porno clips. His poor wife. Unfortunately he is very entertaining company, plus he's Andy's best mate, so I have to grin and bear it. I sometimes miss London and the people we know there, but maybe like Devon, it's always more appealing in small doses.
Back in Brighton now and it's fab to be home. Always is.

Soundtrack: Ash-Burn Baby Burn

Only You

Having an only child is a rather intense experience- all the love and focus goes completely into Sadie, and sometimes it's hard to make sure she doesn't turn out a bit of a prima donna. Hopefully the occassional beatings I give her will put paid to that. No really I'm kidding, but it's rather heartbreaking when your one and only is growing up so rapidly. My broodiness I'm sure stems solely from wanting the last five years (or at least the rose tinted version) to happen all over again. Now that Little Spec has started school her development has been really speedy and it's freaking me out a bit. Not only is she about 3 inches taller, she is now reading, writing and talking a bit like a teenager (she actually now impersonates Homer Simpson when she makes a mistake...doh!). So I am savouring every last sign of her chubby, clumsy babyness, which still pokes it's cute little head out from time to time to remind me that she is still so young and vulnerable. I don't, for example, correct her when she says certain words wrong. I've kept the last remaining few for my own enjoyment. Of course, by secondary school I hope to have elimated them to avoid her head being flushed down various toilet bowls, but for now I'm keeping them.
Here they are:

Oxford Dictionary: Guitar
Sadie's version: Catarrh
OD: Spaghetti, SV: Sabessi
OD: Surprise, SV: Purise
OD: Magazine, SV: Magza-ine

I can only hope the next five years don't go by so quick.

Soundtrack: Stevie Wonder- Isn't She Lovely (cue mild nausea, but I couldn't resist)

P.S Hello to my new readers Andy and Sara who we weirdly bumped into in Slapton yesterday. Andy is Andy Spec's oldest friend from London so it was a bit of a coincidence. We had a great rest of the day with them as they invited us to their Dartmouth harbour-side holiday appartment for a take away. Lovely to see you all and enjoy the view with you, and do keep in touch x

Thursdays are bunged up

After last night's chilli con carne and beer we had a bad night's sleep. We were frequently awoken by one of us parping very loudly. We would then argue groggily about who was the culprit. It was more often than not Andy who had let off but we won't say any more about it. All very amusing and our bedroom smelt like a greek sauna by the morning.
Did anyone see the Brit Awards last night? I remember when it seemed to mean something and I am saddened by it's demise. We ended up turning over to a documentary about hypochondria for some proper entertainment. The Brits wasn't a programme about music talent but just a giant drinking competition. Most of the champagne-soaked guests made Amy Winehouse look remarkably sober. I found myself relieved to see Take That up on the stage. "Oh at last- some really nice chaps on the Brits for once instead of some arrogant pissheads..." I thought in my increasingly middle-aged way, and then Jason Orange slavvered into the mic like some sort of lairy bloke at a stag do and made absolutely no sense at all (not that I was that interested in what the chiselled jawed bore had to say anyway). God only knows what strength bubbly they were plying the celebs with but it seemed the whole place was pickled.
Finding it hard to write anything this week. Every time I sit down to try I get thoughts about the school's Book Week into my head, which I'm writing and reading out some children's poems for. I've already prepared three but it's like my brain has entered ga-ga land and I can't write anything decent anymore unless it involves fluffy small animals. I obviously can't multi-task with my creativity. My blog, for one, has lost it's irreverent edge I feel. I'm supposed to be creating a ten minute play for a competition in a fortnight (sounds easier than it is) and I need to get some more articles sold but it's gone to pot until book week is done and dusted. One thing at a time so apologies for lack of entertaining posts until then.
Oh oh- the Slapton ghost is back- he just put the radio on...oh no- he's put on a CD which is even more bizarre. And god he seems to like KT Tunstall.

Soundtrack: Suede-Everything will flow

Feels like.... Devon

As I sit here Andy is expertly making an indoor log fire. I've just put the dinner on and we're all relaxing to the smells of burning wood after a day at Salcombe (incidentally in my top five places in this country). I love being in Devon. We're staying in Slapton Sands for the week in Andy's brother's holiday home which is something we come and do a few times a year if we get the chance. We wake up every day to the glorious views of the rolling green west country hills, I usually go for a jog down to the beach and back (snigger- I've done it three times EVER), and then we potter or go out for long strolls, usually in the direction of cosy pubs. The days last forever here. If we were in Brighton it would already be next Monday and Sadie would be back at school. As it is it's only Wednesday because we are in peaceful Devonshire, living a simple life. I should probably be doing it properly this calm down time, and stop using the internet. When we first arrived it was out of action so we managed a night email/facebook free. It was annoying but really liberating. We played Scrabble and read books. When we got back online I got straight back onto the facebook like a starved bear and the inevitable had happened and I'd been contacted by an old BF. This must happen on Facebook all the time. This is one of the reasons I resisted signing up to the evil lure of it in the first place, but curiousity has obviously got the better of me. Anyway- Mr Stand and Deliver had given me a poke, as they call it, so I poked him back (well it would be rude not to) and now we are messaging; catching up on what we've been up to these last 10 years. All very strange but it's nice to catch up with old faces. That's the whole point isn't it?

Here's how I did my meal last night which Andy really enjoyed (so much so he said "welcome aboard" in a Lesley Philips voice) so I'll share it with you readers .....
Cathy's Red Onion Dauphinois Potatoes
3 red onions, chopped
3 cloves garlic, crushed
750g potatoes, sliced really thin, skin left on
small tubs of single and double cream
grated cheddar cheese
Butter (about 50g)
salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 200. Melt butter and cook onions and garlic until soft. Mix together the two tubs of cream and then stir in seasoning. Layer a casserole dish first with the sliced potatoes, then some onion mix and then pour on 1/4 of cream. Repeat this 2or 3 times and then sprinkle on grated cheese. Cook for 1-1.5hours.

We're looking forward to two more slow days of countryside living. Do excuse the long blogs but that's what happens when time slows down....

Soundtrack: not sure but all I am listening to now is Strawberry Shortcake singing 'How do you make a friendship cake?'