The East Wing and the West Wing…

Last week I mentioned that we were going camping, and that we had a tent with an East Wing [for him] and a West Wing [for me] so we could have our own finickity, middle-aged set-ups which included a bedside table [him] and an on-trend Bobbin basket of magazines [me].

So, as a 61-year-old woman, with a history of family frame tent camping, and an older history of tiny 2-man-tent camping, I had thought there was nothing in between. But hey – there are Tunnel Tents! We went in an eight-man tent and I must say we had a nice lot of space. We could stand up inside, cook in the living area when it rained, and didn’t have to crawl in and out of anything. Seeing as how we can’t manage frame tents anymore, this was easy – a few bendy poles which takes two people just 30 minutes to put up.

I cooked on our Trangia [scrambled eggs with fry up and home made sourdough], Chris prepared smoked hot chocolate [see below] on the open fire, and I knocked up some open-air pancakes. We sat by the fire and sipped wine as the sun went down. We lived well....

We so enjoyed ourselves being out in the wilds that we are going again as soon as the weather is set fair. You may see us around. We are the elderly gypsies....

 

The smoked hot chocolate was a dangerous operation. Chris has fire training though..

What do to with husbands…

Some people think that husbands should be kept in sheds at the bottom of their gardens. One of my sons remarked that a shed was probably their preferred option to being in the house. I think that depends on the wife. However…

The fact remains that men like their own bit of space, their bit of the world where they can leave a mess, or organise in a way that makes no sense whatsoever to women who would really, really like to just go in and sort the whole area out so it looks nice. My husband has one of these spaces. He calls it his Man Cave. You get to it through the sitting room which opens up onto a conservatory [the old-fashioned plant growing kind with a quarry-tiled floor, not the modern wicker-furniture and coffee table view-of-the- garden kind]. At the end is a locked wooden door. It is always kept locked, and in it is all his tool-stuff, his gadgets, and precious rope.

He soon notices if I have been in there and moved stuff. He puts it back, sometimes silently, sometimes he can’t resist a bit of ‘who has been in my shed?’ Yesterday I left his Stanley knife on the kitchen surfaces. The point is, as he so eloquently puts it, what would happen if you needed a Stanley knife and couldn’t find it because it hadn’t been put back in its right place? I cannot argue with this, but in my defence, I would have put it back eventually.

I have added to the stuff he keeps in his Man Cave. We bought a tent. Not a frame tent – we can’t manage to put those up now we are old. It’s a 4 man thing with a bedroom each end and a communal space in the middle. He has the East wing, and I have the West wing. We are going camping this weekend to try it out. Yes, the wet weekend when there will be nothing but rain all day Sunday. He will be in his element rooting about in his Man Cave, getting his rope and his mallet, his spare tent pegs and such.

And in the tent – he can still have a temporary version of the Man Cave experience, uncluttered by wifey things, like novels and packets of biscuits. He will have enough space to throw his dirty socks in a pile without being moaned at, and his penknife will remain untouched in exactly the right place by the side of the air bed without being moved to a safer area by his wife – I will just zip myself in my section and read…

Crazy summer days

Hands up all those who are looking forward to September…

The summer holidays – don’t you just love ‘em? Except they’re a mixed blessing aren't they…

Drifting back in mind, as I tend to do if not careful, I was thinking of the days when the children were at school and the Summer Holidays loomed on the horizon. It was an interesting cocktail of emotions as I seem to recall.

Part hooray! and part help!

Nice to have them around, but what to do with them?

On one hand no more getting a crowd of reluctant students out of the door first thing every morning. I would be imagining how lovely it would be not to get up for the school run to spend more time with the children.

On the other hand, they’d be ricocheting round the house all day. And they were bound to be getting up to all kinds of things behind my back… I can prove this: see April 2017 blog ‘Don’t Tell Your Mother’.

 And I knew from experience it would be exhausting trying to entertain them, keep them out of the food cupboards and get them to clear up after themselves.

I told myself 'They will entertain themselves'. That was the problem...

Looking back, I have to say I wasn’t the kind of mum who had lots of bright ideas up her sleeve for the six-week stretch. But the kids didn’t need any help from me to find things to do. The less I tried to entertain them, the more they  enjoyed themselves. Which was how we ended up with a highly dangerous complex of underground tunnels in the garden one year. How Kate got the scar on her stomach from leaping off the shed roof. And how they all managed to exit the upper storey of the house via the bathroom window without me noticing a thing.

I try not to beat myself up too much. I did my best. So easy to see now how I could have done it better. Anyway, they seem to have turned out OK. *  

On balance, I preferred to have them at home.

And now the summer break doesn’t make a lot of difference to me, except that I might get to see some of the grandchildren on a week day. And all the roads are madly busy with other peoples kids being taken out places.

We are already halfway through the hols. It goes so quickly now the brood are no longer underfoot for the duration. Most of them are in the thick of family life with their own broods, and good luck to them if their children take after them.

Hang in there, you parents, it’ll soon be September, enjoy it while you can. Soon comes the school run, the lost bits of uniform, the missing pencil case, the PE kit that got forgotten…

*Understatement. They are all exceptionally wonderful. In case any of them read this.

The Little Things That Make for Joy….

About this mug…

My husband expressed some surprise that I bought this mug for no other reason except that I liked it. I didn’t need it. We are not experiencing a famine of drinking utensils that would make me rush out and buy a mug quick, so I could drink some tea. We have cupboards with enough mugs in to deliver hot drinks to a family of 16 with some to spare, and as there is usually just the two of us in the house we could say we are oversubscribed in the mug department.

But you know, this mug just winked at me. It said; ‘Here I am, buy me’. It is wonky and cute and I loved the design. I just had to have it.

I have used it for every breakfast tea, coffee, green tea and herb tea since I bought it. Since yesterday. That makes it worth it, yeah? I arrange it on the farmhouse kitchen table where it looks at home [see above], or on my duck egg blue writing desk in the dining room where it looks bohemian;

 or on my office desk in my clinic where it looks efficient; 

It looks just right everywhere…    It is a little thing that makes for joy and it cost me £4.00.

My husband raised his eyebrows, as he knows you can buy serviceable [but in my opinion ugly] mugs at Asda for £1.50.

My mug is a Morrison’s mug. Now Morrison’s aren’t up there with your usual go-to venues of good taste and style, I’ll admit. But grab it when you see it is my motto. I didn’t go into Morrison’s with the specific intention of buying a mug; not this mug, nor indeed any mug. I went in to buy sugar so the students sitting their Pharmacy practical the next day could make cough syrup. And there it was. Hanging, waiting to be plucked. So, I plucked it off its metal branch and carried it home in triumph.

I think we all have little things that give us joy, far out of all proportion to their cost.

I could add the third-of-a-pint milk bottles which I bought from The Range to this list. Now there my husband can’t complain, because although I have milk jugs and didn’t need more milk pouring utensils, these little beauties only cost £1.00. I see them being used in artisan coffee shops and I like them with their cute little vintage design. I didn’t go into The Range to buy vintage third-of-a-pint milk bottles. I can’t even remember what I did go in for now, probably stationary. But The Range is similar to Lidl and Aldi in the respect that you come out with stuff that you didn’t know you wanted needed. I do this all the time.

Maybe that is why my husband raised his eyebrows….

I get some inspiration...

One of the brilliant things about life now is only having to work three days a week. That gives me a bit of space to do things that are not on my To Do list. This week’s ‘spare’ day saw me visiting one of my favourite places in Somerset – Wells, the smallest city in England. So small a city in fact, that it was used to represent a village in the filming of Hot Fuzz.

 Anyway, I love it for its atmosphere, its quirky shops, its beautiful cathedral and many interesting charity shops. It has more charity shops than Burnham on Sea, and that’s saying something.

The whole cathedral area is lovely and brings back fond memories of taking our Kate there for the big country dancing event they used to have for primary school children. And the time that our Becky sang solo from the pulpit in the packed inter schools Christmas carol service while I practically burst with pride in the congregation. Happy days!

So, after a coffee at Nero’s and a (too brief) whizz round a couple of shops - this wasn’t a girls’ day out by the way – we visited the Cathedral. Naturally I had my camera with me so had a pleasant hour or so looking for interesting angles and unusual takes on things. 

And then… came across this art exhibition. I nearly missed it, stuck down the end of a cloister, or whatever its called. I had to pass it to get to a loo, and I’m so glad it was there. You see, I don’t get to many art exhibitions. I wouldn’t have got to this one if I hadn’t stumbled upon it. Anyway, it was all beautiful watercolour paintings by the talented local (almost local) artist Yvonne Harry. They were the kind of pictures that make me want to

a)     Buy one and hang the expense, or

b)     Rush home, get my paints out, do one myself and hang that instead.

But sadly a) wasn’t an option and b) would be doomed to failure for obvious reasons. Here’s one of her paintings I found on Pinterest so you can see what I mean…

Now, this may not be everyone’s cup of tea but its my kind of painting. And you know what? I feel so inspired I might get my paints out anyway, just to get the urge to paint out of my system. Somehow though, I think I’ll be sticking to photography.

Now to see if I can find anyone who’s up for a girls’ day out in Wells. So many quirky shops, so little time…