Cakes, pies and festive fascinators

Radio silence again! It’s a bit daft to announce that I shall be quietly blogging away without any fuss only to disappear for another (nearly) week. 



It’s just that it’s that time of year again…. There are some gigs that I’ve done over and over, that I haven’t been asked to do (quiet sigh of relief) only to find they’ve been replaced with other new gigs. Some partners in crime and I were invited to decorate a Christmas tree for charity and Monday and Tuesday last week were the ‘decorate day’ and launch. More to come on that in a day or two when I come begging for YOU for votes! On Thursday night I went to the Foreign Correspondents Club to listen to Amitav Ghosh talk. While some of the politics was interesting, I was more interested in his writing, which was barely touched upon. Still, the gins were big and cheap and it was lovely to be out with friends. On Friday I was part of a group that was cutting up donated cakes and pies for Ye Olde Tarte Shop at the Ploenchit Fair, an annual event that raises lots of money for charity. 



This weekend my time has been taken up by the construction of some Christmas headwear. Obviously, for anyone that knows me, there’s nothing frivolous about making festive fascinators; this is a High Priority activity and the coming weeks would be less without them. Right from the beginning they were very fiddly little buggers; lots of cutting out in fraying type fabrics which turned me goggle eyed. And in the construction of them, I’m ashamed to report that I turned the language blue. On the first occasion, family members within earshot rushed in to see if I'd sewn my fingers together. After they saw I was simply cursing like a sailor in frustration, they ignored me. (Harumph.) Still, they’re done now and there’s only a similar headpiece to make for a teddy bear (yes, honestly) a costume to make for Husband and four Christmas Creatures. In the next ten days. Yikes.








(While I was checking out some visuals for the picture to illustrate this, I came across this post which made me laugh out loud. PLEASE DO NOT visit this link if swearing offends you. [It's not big and it's not clever; it simply demonstrates your lack of vocabulary... I do however like a bit of Anglo Saxon.])

Ten Things about me meme

Lovely Lily (thank you so much) has nominated me for this award. I’ve had it before but you don’t see any actor turning down an Oscar because it’s their second win, do you? Anything that takes my mind off ‘the decision that still has to be made by someone else’ is super duper in my book.

The rules say I must list ten things that readers don’t know about me (oh dear, I fear three years of verbal diarrhoea might mean I’ve told you everything already. I’m rather shallow, you know.) I will try very hard to make them exclusives. OK, here goes:

1. I can’t spell diarrhoea. In fact I have blind spots about several words. –ent endings or are they –ant endings? When you have –ly endings, do you leave the ‘e‘ on at the end of the word? I have to say things to myself to get them right: ‘in-de-pen-dent’ ‘def-i-nite-ly.’ Look! How do you know to leave the 'e' on? Then there are the typo spellings: I can’t type neice (see what I did there? I know it’s niece but I can’t type it that way.)

(Oh dear, it wouldn’t be good to run out of things to say after number one, would it?)

2. One of my babies was gigantic: 10lb 10oz. (Let’s be honest, the other one at 8lb 10oz was no weeny either.) Ouch. I had her ‘naturally’ as the obstetrics world coyly call it but oh dear god it was the least natural thing ever… She came out ready for school (minus the satchel.)

3. I’m afraid of mushrooms. Husband trained me to eat the tasteless button mushrooms in the UK but then we moved to Asia. Now I’m bloody terrified. They can look like aliens or slabs of meat but, really, the texture... ewugh. Obviously I’m scared of eating them, not them jumping up and attacking me… they’re mushrooms, right?

4. If anything ever changes in my life or I develop a new interest – I go out and buy a book on it.

5. I love textiles. I’m a terrible toucher. I can’t just walk past something I have to touch it to know what it feels like.

(OK, half way …)

6. I listen, almost exclusively, to the music of Stephin Merritt (Magnetic Fields, the 6ths, Gothic Archies and Future Bible Heroes.) 69 Love Songs is the best album ever made. Oh yes it is. (How could you not love songs with titles like ‘A Chicken With its Head Cut Off,’ ‘Let’s Pretend We’re Bunny Rabbits’ and ‘Love Is Like a Bottle of Gin’) His lyrics are beautiful and he’s incredibly, horribly talented and I’m jealous because see number 7….

7. I’m reasonably good at lots of things but not really good or brilliant at anything.

8. I’ve got a butterfly mind. In between typing 6 and starting number 7 I’ve been off to iTunes and listened to Mag Fields latest album, which I don’t have yet; and then I listened to a couple of ‘people who bought this also bought…’ This butterfly mind might account for number 7…

9. I swear much too much. I once said ‘shit’ in the (primary) school library. The little girl next to me said ‘you just swore!’ and I said ‘no I didn’t;’ then I thought for a minute and said: ‘Oh shit, I did, didn’t I?’

10. I am a bit of a hypochondriac. Lord help me if there’s ever anything really wrong with me. I blame being a doctor’s daughter. I know more than the average person (which leads my thoughts in the wrong direction) but not enough to dispel my suspicions.

11. It turns out that I can’t spell suspicions either. Apparently I also have a problem with ‘ion’ endings: I think they might be ‘ian.’ Why am I getting worse at spelling as I get older? Is it just me?

Thank you Lily.

I'd like to nominate the following five bloggers: 

Angie

DJ Kirkby

Phil

KatW

Suzanne

My Dad

Last week I said I would blog about my parents one at a time. Today is my Dad's turn.

My Dad:

• rarely swears, but when he does he runs together convoluted combinations of really atrocious expletives.


• brought my sister and me a cup of tea every school day morning to wake us up for school. It became a condition that the man I married would selflessly provide me with endless cups of tea. (I failed.)


• catches spiders in his hands. He shakes his hands gently to stop them from biting him. Eeeewugh. (Husband stamps on spiders since he’s a bit scared too – although less so since his six year old Son challenged him with: “Dad, if you hold the tarantula, so will I”.)


• is amazingly talented with his hands. For many years he’s made props for the local theatre group’s performances. So when I go home, this is the kind of thing I chance upon:

• Every year (bar one when he was ill) he has made a Christmas Creature for the children of the family. Until we had our own children this was my sister and I until we were around 30! Christmas creatures are made, Blue Peter style, from cardboard tubes, fizzy drink bottles and are decorated in the style of: aliens, cats, dogs, snowmen, dinosaurs, etc. They always have a hollow in their bodies which is filled with small toys and gifts. They are placed under the tree and given out with presents. Every year it’s a top secret what creature he’s made.

• (This Christmas Creature is Flicka, the dog. If you turn her round, you can open her bottom! and presents are hidden inside her hollow. It's quite scary how Dad has captured her neurotic expression so brilliantly. )

• It never mattered how many friends we invited, how late in the day, my parents always found enough food, and pulled up another chair. Our friends were always welcome.


• Has written his memoirs.


• He’s a fabulous cook. He’s always does Christmas meals and Sunday lunches but since he retired he has done nearly all the cooking.