I’m adding two blogs to places I visit (sorry Bec, work with me, I think you’ll like them too) that – g’ah! – are craft orientated.
Jane is getting listed because she also talks about food, books and AAMilne, so basically I like her already. She also has chickens. I yearn for chickens. I believe this harks back to growing up with The Good Life and often lying awake at night dreaming of waking up as Felicity Kendal. I also blame this program for my other deep unrelenting yearning for an Aga stove. These things are highly impractical on so many fronts – chickens smell, being so time poor already having to factor in time to clean out hen cages is just stupid. I had bigger boobs at 11 than Felicity Kendal had as a fully grown woman. and even the suggestion of an Aga in the height of a Sydney humid summer makes perspiration trickle down my back. Interestingly, I also yearned for a marriage like that of Tom & Barbara – one of partnership, common values and just a seemingly gentle fitting together. I’m sure if I watched it now I would be horrified at the traditional roles being played out before me, but in the inacurrate role of memory recollections, I have a quiet lovely peace that Chef and my partnership does marry to how I perceieved that of the Goods.
And Jan is getting uploaded because I think, if someone can actually spur my slow-deep-burning desire to make a quilt into a reality, she will do it.
In other late breaking news…
Felix has decided to turn his reticence in going to bed into an art form. He now can’t go to bed without me lying down beside him, a back tickle, and several rounds of The Beatles Close your Eyes (a song I started singing to him in homage to Young Talent Time – I’ve already waxed lyrical about The Good Life, don’t even get me started on Sally Boyden). It took a long time for me to get Felix to go to bed with minimal fussing and it seems in the space of about three months we’ve regressed 10 years. And he’s only 5.
Last night, as he wailed away in bed “I’m lonely” and “I’m worried” (I fell for this last week) I wailed back that if this was how hard going to sleep was when he was in his own bed and knew exactly where I was, how on earth was he going to sleep at Liam’s place on Saturday night? His reply – in a forlorn teary voice of resignation? “I don’t know, I guess I’ll just work something out.”
Today I had Jasper in and out of the car e.i.g.h.t. times in the space of an hour. I hope you all just had an instantaneous wave of exhaustion wash over you in sympathy.
What working from home offers in terms of not commuting, not showering and bra-less bliss is more than paid for in having to do school drop-off and pick-up, the most highly over-rated aspect of parenting ever known to mankind.
Did anyone else own Sally Boyden’s album – the one where on the cover she’s in her school uniform with about 100 textas. And not just any texta, the good ones, probably Staedtlers. It always reminded me of my childhood Derwent envy? You know – the girl who all the boys loved, the one with dead straight shiny blond hair, who’s ponytail was always perfect and had a smile that made her nose crinkle and eyes twinkle, who never looked hot in the height of summer and always had the whitest socks and shiniest shoes? And if that wasn’t enough, she had the tinned set of Derwent coloured pencils. GOD. I wanted those pencils so badly it hurt.
I’m in one of those lulls of what to cook for dinner. This doesn’t bode well for my current pace over there at Eat Me. Any ideas are most welcome.
For the first time in about two months we’re having take away tonight. I’m so excited. This is what my life has come to. Excitement over takeaway Chinese. When I’m rich can you all remind me of this?