So, can we pause for a moment to acknowledge the awesomeness of sandwiches?
Hugh Fearnley-Whatshisface had an article in the Guardian last Saturday all about them, and while I agree with his assertion that we need to cut down on the number of soggy supermarket sandwiches we eat, I think it’s unrealistic to imagine that we all have time to make the thirteen-ingredient pan bagnats that he includes a recipe for. Continue reading
Wow. I’m amazed that it has been a whole month since I put up my first Live In The Now post. For those that missed my May ramblings, the premise is that you try and take a monthly snapshot of your life, and capture some of the details that you don’t take the time to record in photograph albums or baby books. It’s something that the excellent Scribbling Mum started, and if you haven’t checked her blog out I’d urge you to do so.
Anyway, it has been one of those weeks. DorkyDad is travelling, and within five minutes of him getting in a taxi to the airport I’d managed to drop a two-litre carton of milk on the kitchen floor. DorkySon was supposed to be getting a haircut – something that has previously been no problem – but on this occasion he had a meltdown and refused to let anyone near him. In the queue at the bank, DorkySon stuck his fingers so far down his own throat that he threw up all over himself. And today we walked past a toy shop without going in and buying a new truck and so I was rewarded with twenty minutes of screaming around the supermarket, before DorkySon slammed his legs against the checkout counter with such strength that he flipped his pushchair right over and ended up staring at the ceiling. The shock of that, finally, made him shush.
Phew. I feel like the gin and tonic I am sitting sipping has been well earned. Continue reading
We are currently working its way through one large Pritt Stick a week. It seems that scrapbooking is the activity of the moment.
DorkySon follows me around the house, chanting “Cut, stick, glue! Cut, stick, glue! Cut, stick, glue!” until I finally give in and sit down with him at the table, a tower of magazines in front of us.
I suspect it may be in his genes, as I spent ridiculous amounts of time and money doing the same thing as a teenager. But while I filled my scrapbooks up with pictures of boybands, carefully cut out from Smash Hits, DorkySon’s tastes are a little more highbrow.
So far he has shredded the entire collection of Lonely Planet magazines that were my birthday present last year. We have to hide the Saturday and Sunday supplements until we’ve read them; otherwise they end up in pieces across the living room floor. Last week I even found myself buying a copy of Top Gear magazine, because I knew it’d have enough pictures of cars to keep DorkySon happy for a whole afternoon. The only publications he won’t cut up are his own Peppa Pig and Bob the Builder magazines… funny that. Continue reading
“Chips please Mama.”
“No chips tonight, DorkySon.”
“Chips please Mama.”
“No chips tonight DorkySon. Get out of the freezer please.”
Silence….
“Oooooooh! DorkySon’s fingers stuck in freezer Mama!”
There is something of a language explosion going on over here. I know that all parents must go through this, but I find it amazing that DorkySon, who a few months ago was unable to join more than two words together, is now able to spout complete sentences, and communicate exactly what he wants to me. Continue reading
I saw today that Taransay – the former home of the Castaways – is up for sale. Unfortunately I don’t have a spare £2million to spend on it, but seeing the news has left me thinking all day about my own childhood, which I spent in the Western Isles.
Although I haven’t lived there for nearly twenty years, the countless days I spent playing on the beaches and walking in the hills were happy ones, and I will always feel a deep connection to the place. I am convinced that growing up somewhere so isolated – where the relationship between the people, the land and the sea is still a strong one, and where there is still a real awareness of the rhythms of nature – has shaped my character in fairly fundamental ways. It also says something about the sense of community on the islands that even having been away for so long, when I go back and visit now I still have people asking when I got ‘home’. Continue reading
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 