Snake in the house

I’ve got to get a grip on myself.   In a moment of boldness I have allowed my son to get a corn snake.  We have planned this carefully, done all the research, even devoted a corner of the freezer to dead mice of varying sizes and horrific names (pinkies, fuzzies).  Logically, I know it’s ok for this creature to be in the house, but somehow a legless reptile in the house, safely behind glass as he is, gives me the raging heeby-jeebies.  It takes nearly all my self control to stop me dashing from the room when the snake moves near me, nearly as much as it takes me not to pinch the remnants of the childrens’ Easter eggs. I am trying to be brave about all this for the boy, who is inexperienced with snakes and could use some adult general confidence to help him get started.  Fortunately his dad is remarkably sanguine about the whole thing (mercifully keeping quiet about my daft indulgences vis-a-vis the children and pets), and is turning into a more reliable snake handler than I am.  At least he cleaned up when the snake shat on our bed.

Meanwhile, the snake and I eye one another warily whenever I peer into the vivarium.  From my point of view, he appears to have all the aces up his sleeve – reptilian cunning, great skin, sinuous movement and prejudice against him.  I suppose he’s not thinking much, with a brain possibly the size of a petit-pois, other than that I am big and potentially threatening.   Rationalizing it all is not helping me much at the moment.

And now to the point of all this: getting a grip.  The nice reptile rescuer who matched us with our snake explained that when handling the snake, we shouldn’t grip hard but support gently.  Experience tells me that the more I practice a thing, the better I get at it, supporting myself.  Fear is sometimes rational, but more often is the hanging on to a prior notion, and can be worn down by familiarity, repetition and laughter.  So, having committed to this thing, I’d better stick at it, and be glad that so far the snake hasn’t headed off to dine on my daughter’s cute new gerbils.

Rounding up the Easter Bunnies

Easter is now a distant memory, chocolate smears wiped up and school beckoning again.  Nonetheless, it has been a much needed respite from the usual round of work, collecting kids, organising uniforms and staying on top of my job.  Hence the title: the bunnies have been rounded up and put back in their hutches, now it’s time to get my work into line.

Surprisingly (well, perhaps not), I took some very good management advice from my hairdresser and will be implementing a new regime at work.  We all need some guidelines to help us co-operate (break it down = work together): be happy (or take steps to make yourself so); take responsibility for your own progress; don’t gossip; accept change.  These are some of the rules my hairdresser uses to run her team in her salon – I think they may be just as relevant in the classroom, or even the staffroom.

Anyway, work aside now.  The kids are coming along in leaps and bounds.  Florence is a natural climber and we have taken her again to the local climbing wall with our friends Laraine and Peter.  She shins up a wall with such glee and grace it is a joy to see.  Theo is so impatient for his 4th birthday to come along – he counts down the days and can’t wait for more presents.  We have been out and about on the train lately as the old banger has passed on.  Kids are very excited by train journeys and it’s much less hassle than I thought.  However we do have a new old banger now and I aim to be less bound by the car than I was.  In any case, I need to get my money’s worth from the shopping trolley… and of course be mindful of the carbon footprint.

We may have been more abstemious in terms of car usage (by necessity) but abstemiousness has never been my very strong point overall.  Nonetheless, it is time to be a little bit stricter with myself in terms of cake and wine, and a bit more free with the exercise and activity.  Watch this space!

F^*&ed off with Facebook

I am back to the blog in an earnest attempt to get rid of the insane habit of letting friends and family know how I am by updating my status on Facebook.  It is, however, a sad indicator of our times that a blog is tool of choice for this operation.For this week, tasks to accomplish (in no special order of importance) include: recover from OFSTED; organise Florence’s 5th birthday party; bake & ice 2 birthday cakes; sort out Christmas cards and presents; get to the end of term with all jobs done; maintain semblance of normality whilst quietly having collapse of self-esteem from taking on too much.More news soonest, if I don’t hibernate first.

Doesn’t time fly…?

Well, nearly 3 months and no new blog post.  I suppose in these modern times that must mean I’m virtually (ha ha) non-existant, unless you count my new addiction to Facebook.

The bombshelter is gone, the new bathroom is well into the planning stage and I’ve decided which gorgeous winter boots to buy AFTER our holiday to the Lake District at half term.  Life goes on apace and I am struggling to find the time to catch up with the many good friends who have had second children, just as our two are now at school.  Theo looks very cute in his (tiny) school uniform and Florence is revelling in her role as “big sister the protectress” in the playground.

It has been creative mayhem here this week as Chris has been preparing for a night which had to change venues, and both children had to dress up as their favourite book characters for school (princess and tiger, guess who?).  My creative, ahem, genius has been severely tested not by the fancy dress element but by an overload of spreadsheets and a surprise arrival of lots of soot down the chimney in the dining room.

The best of it all is that my Spanish is coming along in leaps and bounds – and this weekend I may even get a chance to try it out for real with one of the musicians from Chris’ night!  Fenomenal.

Perhaps you few loyal readers have deserted for pastures greener, or gone to Facebook, but nonetheless it is still cathartic to write this crap down.

Comments on the detail.

Well, there it is, May has all but disappeared and hardly a squeak from me on the blog. And maybe some of us are disappointed at that. Never mind, it’s now half term week which means that I can wax lyrical about the joys of teachers’ holidays, unruly wine, slow food and fine kids (did I get those adjectives muddled? I got distracted by having to hiss through the window at the local tabby cat who has taken to piddling acridly in our alleyway).

In the meantime, I’ve done coursework moderation, faculty improvement planning, student teacher mentoring, and a little light teaching at work. On the home front, we are planning the next great building onslaught and hopefully getting a puppy now that Theo is 3 and verging on being house trained.

The biggest news is that Florence has had the chicken pox. We counted 34 spots at the height of the outbreak. She was very brave, but was a little surprised that we were so pleased she had it until we explained that she would only get it the once! Fingers crossed that Theo is so stoical, although despite being under the weather there are no spots to be seen.

Hoorah for all that. As it has stopped raining for five minutes, my thoughts have turned to my favourite salad – carrot and cashew nut – from “The Best of Lord Krishna’s Cuisine”. Toast a generous handful of whole cashews under the grill while peeling and grating a large carrot. Finely chop half a red pepper. Put all these ingredients in a pretty/utilitarian bowl and sprinkle lightly with salt. In a frying pan, heat one tablespoon of sunflower oil and fry one teaspoon of mustard seeds until they start to darken and pop. Add this to the salad bowl, along with 2 tablespoons of plain yoghurt. Stir it all in gently and serve with your favourite curry.

Our Spring!

Happy days…

My last post on this site led to some soul searching about why I’m compiling this blog and what should be published. Eventually I came to the conclusion that it’s about celebrating the beautiful things in my life, so here they are.
Chris has been away this week, which explains why he hasn’t been snapped with my new phone camera, otherwise he’d be on here too.
Perhaps there should also be pics of all the cakes and puddings made recently too, but they don’t hang around long enough. Some recipes will follow when all the coursework has been marked. Before you ask, there won’t be any photos of that!

end of term mauves

It’s not quite the blues that I’m feeling, but all teachers must identify with the end of term mauves. Like, you need more time to complete those vital (and sometimes dull) tasks like marking, but at the same time you are desperate for that final bell to ring. This is closely coupled with a stinging sense of anti-climax as the kids leave the building, but that is assuaged easily enough after a g&t and half a bottle of decent vino.

Enough grumbling, the Easter bunny came round early last weekend in the welcome form of Sarah, Dan and Emile. All the kids had a laugh: Florence overacted spectacularly, Theo raared (“roared”) nonstop and Emile took it all in his stride, and everyone painted a red masterpiece. On Sunday, Sarah brought out the Easter buckets and the annual chocofest started in earnest. Evil parent that I am, the buckets have been put out of the way for the time being, however I must be mellowing somewhat as I haven’t stooped so low in my mauve state to eat their chocolate. Yet.

We are off to visit Dahn Sarf over the hols, can’t wait to get my feet back on London soil/concrete. It’s a toss up between what is the most exciting part: seeing Tom and Debs and Sam and Josh; visiting Bairney and Dick; going to the Sanctuary; catching up with other friends.
All in all, a good way to banish the mauves – bring it on, I say!!

A chocolate in the mouth is worth two on the floor.

Florence learnt a couple of hard lessons this weekend. Spencer has gone missing, perhaps she’s gone to the woods to play with the other teddy bears. “I think Spencer has gone forever” she remarked this morning to her Dad. Either that or Spencer has been tidied away too efficiently and we have yet to find her in the recesses of tat in our home.
Anyway, she is taking all this with remarkable equilibrium – I am more sad because I suspect it represents a part of her childhood that has now also gone forever.

On Saturday we bumped into a couple of work colleagues at the shops on Queen’s Road (one of them writes a blog – have a look, it’s also on my blogroll). As we had just been buying cake ingredients and I was trying to ensure co-operation for long enough for me to have a quick look at some handbags, the kids both had little packets of chocolate buttons for their amusement and diversion. Theo charmed both colleagues by purposefully rummaging in his pockets and generosly producing a button for each of them, but Flo resolutely hung on to hers. Who can blame her? A girl needs to ration out the chocolate and not distribute it to strangers. However, the anticipated pleasure of eating her buttons in the car on the way home was shattered when she dropped the remainder of her packet all over the floor of the handbag shop. It’s a dilemma many of us share: scoff it now and feel sick or save it and risk losing it accidentally while distracted by something shiny and/or beautiful.

Rainsnowing on Mother’s Day

I’ve tried five attempts at writing a magnificent opening sentence, none of which flowed at all. Here is a picture of today’s rainsnow instead of writing the necessary thousand words to describe today – a family day, good times, very good food, tired grandchildren (and grandparents too after Theo’s waking up at silly o’clock).

There are now two possible chocolate cakes I can make, depending on the circumstances. For general cooking and fun with the kids, Mary Berry’s recipe holds all the aces. However for a cake with more intense flavour and labour, I am now converted to a Nigel Slater recipe for the perfect chocolate cake which appeared in the Observer Food Monthly during the autumn. Mercifully it was worth the effort!

Last week, Flo, Theo and I travelled into deepest Rutland to visit Doreen – another lovely day. We had lunch and lots of outdoorsy fun, culminating in a visit to the lambing sheds where the kids got to sit in Mr Mears’ yellow JCB Load-all tractor. These are not tractors or lambs but some rather glowingly beautiful daffodils and narcissi from D’s garden.

It’s got pictures!

At long last, the blog has pictures… although the Easyshare software is only easy on its own damn terms. Never mind.
It has taken less time to complete the first scarf and I am now on to the matching handbag. It must be a good scarf as Florence has promptly appropriated it and wore it to school today. She will surely be glad to pose for a photo with the new neckware, so expect that soon.

By the way, this is the best photo I could find of myself, taken in 1992. Getting in front of a camera too often is a habit left to small cute kids (like mine). Another blast from the past today – Treacle the cat is back home while his adoptive mum Jude is in Australia and other far-flung zones. It’s nice to have the furry chap back, as long as he doesn’t expect the same five star luxury treatment here that he is accustomed to getting at Jude’s!