FOR EMMA

It is weird, blogging on behalf of someone I do not know. And for that matter, with a whole load of people I do not know. But what's not weird, is that we have all been touched by this woman's story, and have all shared a wish to help make what she is going though, a little bit easier.

Emma Day, who blogs at  Crazy with Twins, is a 27-year-old mum of twins (age 1) and Bunny (age 7). She is fighting cancer for the second time. Over the last couple of weeks she has been isolated in hospital for radiation treatment, and then isolated at home, due to emitting harmful radiation from her body.

The good news is that those radiation levels have dissipated far quicker than the docs predicted, and so she's now out of isolation, reunited with her family, able to cuddle and comfort her children once more.

On a bid to help Emma, the blogging community (I'm really rather new to all this, but there's quite a family it would appear), continue to stand in support, passing a digital baton of cheer between them, hosting a blog hop called Shoulder to Shoulder to Day.

Me and Karen over at themadhouseofcatsandbabies, (do go and take a look at her amusing story), are co-hosting the hop today and spreading the positive vibes, as well as raising awareness on Emma's behalf about Maggie's Cancer Centres and The Race For Life (which she is running soon). Emma is also hoping to find a sponsor to buy an iPad for the iodine room at the Cheltenham General Hospital. If you can help, please get in touch! 

For now though, a poem for Emma. 
ps. Still rooting for you kiddo!

BACK TO YOUR BABIES

Do a jig in the rain, and sing to a star. 
You're out. Prison's over. Don't stay so far. 

As if! We all know, you can't wait to get near. 
Leave behind all the pain, desperation and fear.

Now you can; you are able to have and to hold.
A fresh new beginning is about to unfold.

A process to go through, perhaps that may be,
But it won't last long, they remember, you see.

You are mum, you are lifeline, unbroken will.
And they loved you before, and they love you still.

Smile, laugh, even cry, but do not weep.
Your children, these memories, they will not keep.

Your babies, your daughters, your husband: All yours.
As the whirl slows down, you can take time to pause.

Blow bubbles, paint rainbows, hum lullabies too.
Keep your family tight, squeeze them in close to you.

Play dollies, but do it with real ones instead.
Pat them, stroke them, and then kiss their head.

Get up early, sleep late, climb into a cot.
Be smug, be delirious, for lose you have not.

So jig in the rain, and sing to a star. 
You're out. It's over. Enjoy where you are. 



© Emma Oliver

www.maggiescentres.co.uk/‎ Emma’s JustGiving page race for life in aid of Cancer Research UK.

top to trunk to root - tangled up in love

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

'Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is.

Love is not breathless, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just 'being in love' which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when 'being in love' has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.

May your roots grow towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms fall from your branches, you find out that you are one tree, and not two.'

Louis de Bernieres

TEN TOP TIPS FOR POSITIVE PARENTING

1) Make sure your praise is genuine and meaningful.

2) Praise effort as well as achievement.

3) Use positivity, praise and hugs to reinforce good behaviour, and do your  best to ignore less desirable behaviour.

4) Use distraction e.g. when your child is too boisterous, lead them into a quiet activity.

5) Keep in mind that toddlers will gradually understand how you want them to behave.

6) Do not laugh at bad behaviour; try to lead by example. 

7) Remember to criticise the action, rather than the child.

8) Try to pre-empt a negative situation coming and turn it on its head.

9) If you say or do something you regret, explain that you did not mean it and say you are sorry with a cuddle. 

10) Consistency is key.

Taken from the article Positive Parenting and the Power of Praise which if you'd like to read, is available as a full feature in the Autumn 2013 issue of Baby London Magazine.

Bringing career skills to parenting?

Blogger Judith, over at Secrets of the Sandpit, has written a post about what she is teaching her children, and the teaching skills she's brought with her from her career.

http://secretsofthesandpit.wordpress.com/2013/06/01/cant-stop-teaching/ 

Thought-provoking or what at 6am?! Here are those thoughts...

I'm really lucky as I trained as a nursery nurse straight from school, then worked with countless children for twenty years before going back to do journalism at Uni as a mature student. I bring all the tricks of the nannying trade with me, along with the greatest of all, which links in with journalism's feature writing - storytelling. 

Training as a Nursery Nurse, completing a child psychology Diploma, and, Nannying, all gave me a built in understanding of children's behaviour, what to expect overall, and a whole host of tips for an 'easier' life as a parent. Except of course that as mum, thanks to a shared strong bond, you have to deal with guilt, and emotions I never knew existed as Nanny.

In her post, interestingly, Judith raises the importance of praising our kids. I've recently written a three-page feature on this subject for the Autumn 2013 issue of Baby London, and my blog is where it began... http://1grace1faith.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/children-and-importance-of-praise.html I will of course link the article to LIFE AS IT IS at the time the mag is out, but wanted to say that we should never under-estimate how praising our children, encourages them to be happy, confident and independent little people.


In my next post I want to share my top ten tips to positive parenting, taken from the article Positive Parenting and the Power of Praise which if you'd like to read, is available as a full feature in the Autumn 2013 issue of Baby London Magazine.

Adorable musings of a 4YO

 E: "Oh Mummy, you should have waited to marry me!"

FRAMED

 What I love about this FRAMED, is the fact that after Julia had signed Esme's book for her, Esme then decided to sign a post-it note for Julia!

FRAMED

The Singing Mermaid

Children's poet laureate Julia Donaldson (3)

The auditorium was packed with children of all ages, excitedly anticipating the spectacle ahead. And Esme. Who had told me she had not wanted to come only an hour before, and now kept asking me for another sweet to chew. Sweets so sticky they stuck to their wrapper. Sweets that surely must have been stashed in a cupboard by a radiator at the Hall, for potentially a decade of entertainment?

A hush fell over us all and then there she was. Julia Donaldson. On the stage and resplendent in blue. Wearing her children's poet laureate medal with pride. Looking, well, normal! 

Julia announced how happy she was to be back in Haslemere, and then, she announced how sad she was, that this was to be her final show as the children's poet laureate. And then she began.

Children's poet laureate Julia Donaldson (2)

Beg, steal, borrow and buy

I've been reading Julia Donaldson for twenty years, first as a nanny to countless charges, and since to my own two girls. I never tire of her tales; how brilliant she is and they are. The characterisation, the rhythm, the rhyme, the unexpectedness, the language, the humour. 

I presume at this point that everyone on the planet knows her, not least because some of her best loved books (inc The Gruffalo and Room on the broom), have since been adapted to programmes for television; fast becoming the latest must-watch Christmas day entertainment, but also because she has been the children's poet laureate for 2011-2013.

I do wonder though if it is always realised that the author of such joyous stories has endured momentous pain and suffering. 

Children's poet laureate Julia Donaldson (1)

Today, Esme Grace (my musing 4YO) and I, are off to Haslemere Hall to listen to Julia Donaldson read some of her magical stories on stage. I'm not sure who is more excited... Oh okay, perhaps I am. That will most certainly be me then. 

I'll be sure to check back in and let you know how it was.

Silent Sunday (1)

Secondary Infertility feature

Secondary Infertility

After having one child you assume that the second conception will be plain sailing. This isn’t always the case... Emma Oliver talks about her experience of secondary infertility. 

Looking back, the hardest moment through all of my Secondary Infertility hell, was when my mother-in-law (stood right beside me), said to my two-year-old, ‘Ah poor little Esme, when is Mummy going to give you a sibling?’ I mustn’t forget to mention that she knew about my miscarriage history.

Musings of a 4YO

E: Mummy, did you know that if you throw a meringue, it comes back to you again?

Ode to my Grandmother (aka Beach Granny)

Two years on...

I smell you in the garden as the flower, or on the Chanel stand in the perfume department. 

I feel you when I touch my now squidgy thumb against my skin. 

I think of you as I look into your mirror hanging in my hall, or pinch the salt from your little glass pot into my casserole dish. 

I see you when I watch Sofia thinking. 

I also hear you often now that she speaks. She says 'hi' just like you used to. 

I'm glad you are here with me still. 

I love you - I always will. 

I only wish my girls could have known you.

Gran's Eulogy

PREFACE: I was four months pregnant with Sofia when I read this out at my Granny's funeral. I remember thinking I might falter. But that was before I felt a burning hot sensation on my shoulder. An arm around me perhaps? Whatever, whoever, it was willing me on, comforting, emboldening. 

Eulogy; Kathleen Mabel (aka Beach granny).

The warmth and care that Gran bestowed entirely on others was testament to the sort of life she lived. One filled with love. 

A tough life at times; but one in which she always maintained her strength and dignity. One where she always seemed to cope admirably with all the hardships she had to face. 

Gran had to be so strong all her life, that even in her final days she found it difficult to let go.

Even more down to earth with a bump (7)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy

WEEK SEVENTEEN

This week I've been fine. I've slept surprisingly well. No more bleeding. Nothing much to report.  

WEEK EIGHTEEN

Spoke to soon. Sleep the last few days has been continually disturbed with Tarantino style dreams.

Oh and it was Gran's funeral. Although I managed to get through that without being too emotional. I was able to write & read the eulogy for her. And I know she would have been proud. But now I'm feeling totally drained. I miss her.  

Nanny notes (Delano Hotel, Miami) & that pool

Sorry that the image surpasses the text box on the right, but frankly, I didn't want to shrink it. Let's get this into perspective. This is a pool that surpasses. This is a pool that is - to use Ian Schrager's word - visceral. This is a pool belonging to one of the finest hotel's in the world. 

The following snippet of a nanny note begins with my charge scoffing, and myself contemplating (in my finest Brooklyn), 'Oh my God. How much a cup of coffee cost?' 

Freddie who was not quite two ate his way through a large lunch consisting mainly of chips, and, as a last minute ditch attempt to throw in all of his five a day, half a pound of grapes - his mother had insisted.

Food over, Freddie wanted to run. But that can't happen in a place like the Delano, (which may explain why there weren't any other kids there). Before long, he began balling. It escalated quickly. 

DELANO ( Link to the next post from the last post)

Pronounced: De-la-no NOT, Dee-lan-oh

Having mentioned luxury hotels worth splurging on in the previous post, I was reminded how fortunate I am to have stayed in so many around the globe. I lived quite a high life as a nanny, first class travel, food and accommodation. Aspects that were made even more glorious due to the juxtaposition of the 'roughing it backpacking' I escaped to during my time off. Which by the way, I loved even more. Back then, anyway!

New Yorker Ian Schrager's posh hotel, Delano, situated on South Beach, Miami was definitely not roughing it. And the following post recalls a shocker of a snippet from my stay there as a nanny. By the way, I'm saying that in a New York accent as I type it; it just works better. Oh as does the word 'better', hell it's probably best, you give it a try too. I love a bit of audience participation. The whole thing though... practise first if you like. But please read the next post in your very best Brooklyn accent (think Woody Allen or Joan Rivers), in tribute to their fellow Brooklynite and designer of luxury hotels worth splurging on, Ian Schrager. 

ps AND yes I know the De-la-no is in Florida, but Florida is really a hot New York. It's spelt differently that's all.

pps Keep practising, it may be a day or two before the post appears!

FOOTNOTE:
Silly accents are an all-important part of everyday living, sometimes essential to the reading and telling of LIFE AS IT IS.

Travelling to posh hotels independently

There was a piece on the Yahoo home page today entitled: Luxury hotels worth splurging on, and it took me back to when I first graduated and did a stint on The Independent travel desk in 2005. I was there to gain some experience, and had only got my foot through the door by sending an email of complaint to the then assistant editor. For some reason he really appreciated that and offered me a placement. It was chaos. It was heady. And I loved it. Even if it did result in me almost crapping myself at times down to the sheer fear of getting something wrong. The bottom line (no pun intended), is that it was amazing fun. Oh and I also had some articles printed, one of them being a hotels special. I interviewed Claus Sendlinger, CEO of Design Hotels, and, Ian Schrager, of Studio54,  Delano and Gramercy Park Hotel fame. Here are my favourite quotes from each of them regarding what they did, and still do best: Luxury hotels worth splurging on.

Claus Sendlinger, CEO of Design Hotels, on what hotel he particularly likes, and why? Amanjiwo, Amanrtsort at Borobudur, Central Java, Indonesia - because of the way the architecture is integrated into the natural surroundings and how the setting of the property overlooks the valley with the Borobudur Temple rising above it. Time has a slow motion feel to it here. It is the most peaceful place on earth I have been and maybe the best experience I have ever had staying in a hotel.

Ian Schrager, Hotelier, on what makes a great hotel? A hotel should lift your spirits when you stay there. Every fact and detail is important. Visuals are only a small part of it. The sum of all the parts added together result in creating certain magic, and it is that magic that is the most important element that a hotel can strive to accomplish. Therefore, I would say it is the overall visceral experience.

The emotional musings of a 4yo

Esme is clearly forming a lasting relationship with our fancy fish...

E: Mummy, when our fish die, can we keep a pet spider?

FRAMED

Nanny notes (London, Courchevel) - a potentially fatal ski trip

This nanny tale is about the sort of family that have loads of money, but don't want to spend any of it... Those that can afford to take four children, themselves, plus the help, all skiing to France for a week. But then insist on dinner coming too. Read on... 

Picture this: The family, (mum, dad and four kids) plus me the skivvy nanny, are all packed up and ready to go skiing. A chalet in Courchevel awaits.

Suitcase after suitcase is lined up on the pavement next to the Chelsea des res, waiting for cabs to the airport. 

The kids (8,6,4 & 2years) are excited. Me? Well, behind my smile, I'm gloomily wondering if we're all about to die of food poisoning. You see, half the luggage is frozen food.

5 reasons not to get a hamster...

This comment from Sara (http://mumturnedmom.wordpress.com) 
Sara Murray12 May 2013 21:48
Ha, love it, good luck :) Current request from my 6yo is for a hamster... #PoCoLo

left on my recent fishy tail post, inspired today's rodent rant: 

FIVE REASONS NOT TO GET A HAMSTER 

Replies

1. 
   Emma Oliver13 May 2013 07:07

   1) They bite. (I'm very grumpy too when woken from chasmic sleep). 

   2) They feel as if they may break when holding them too tightly. (I can remember Esme as a very excited three-year-old strangling a friend's hamster: almost to a bone crushed state).  

   3) They can have bad habits. (The hamster that belonged to my bro - called Jimmy I believe - had quite a neat trick that my mum called a bad habit. He would zoom round in his wheel and poop at the same time, resulting in said pellet, flying out the cage at jaw-poop-dropping rate).

   4) They can break free. (Years ago I was nannying, and went on hols with the family. They left my then partner in charge of the children's beloved hamster. The then partner went out for the eve, but before doing so put the hamster inside its perspex play ball. When he got back from the pub much later, he walked in finding the plastic ball in two pieces AND, shock, horror, the hamster missing). 

   5) They can hibernate and not wake up. (Charlene - the bitch hamster from my childhood that used to draw blood from my pudgy little fingers, did just this. Mum only realised when that corner of the room began to hum).

   #PoCoLo indeed. Thanks for commenting Sara x

My family and other animals (if fancy fish weren't enough).

E: Mummy look I've found a slug.

M: What?

E: A slug Mummy, I've found a slug. On the floor. Here.

M: Really? Where? Not in the house? Not first thing in the morning? Oh Lord.

E: Yes Mummy, and look. It is definitely a leopard slug, it has spots on its back. Mummy?

M: Great. 

E: It's a lovely one.

M: (Thinking: How very Gerald Durrell of you darling). Did the slug get rid of the ants?

E: No. Slugs eat greens.

M: I need a coffee. And some kitchen roll. And a camera, that's huge...

DOG - NO! FISH - YES! (Fancy ones at that).

Over one month ago...

Esme: Can I have a dog?
Me: No.

Four weeks ago...

Esme: I can't have a cat can I Mummy, you're allergic...
Me: That's right.

Three weeks ago...

Esme: Can I have a fish?
Daddy: Mummy will have to clean it out...

Two weeks ago...

The tank without fish

It was all rather exciting when the fish tank arrived. The filter, weed and water were installed. And then it had to sit. And we had to wait. Something to do with the fish going into a PH balance that wouldn't cause them a Pretty Harsh imbalance. (For we all know that an off-balance fish is heading straight down the loo).

The girls have been sat looking at the tank without fish all week. Who would have thought that an empty fish tank could hold their attention such as? I did begin to wonder, should I bother putting fish in at all?

And the fish with a tank

New arrivals, Tallulah & Frederick

Anyway, one week ago I did, and we now have fancy fish. Here are two of the five being carefully introduced to their new home. (The others are stripe-like-pipe-like teeny things which I'm praying won't get eaten). They shouldn't get eaten should they? They get enough food - but not too much. Oh the responsibility! Feeding them all is exciting. The fish certainly seem to get excited at breakfast time. And before you think I've gone soft, actually, the fish man at Haslemere Aquatics (now he knows a thing or two), informed me that fish are intelligent.

Fish myths & feelings

On asking the aquatics chap, were we buying the right amount of fish - too many - overcrowding? - too little - companionship issues? I joked, "Everyone knows that a goldfish has a memory of 0.3 seconds, so should I really care?" He reprimanded, "That's actually not true. Fish have a consciousness." I stopped grinning immediately. (Or really tried hard to). So there you have it. You heard it here first: fish have feelings. 

Fish guts brains

I'm concerned that they're concerned. Are they worried every time Fia (my mischeivous toddler) approaches their abode? Hand outstretched, banging on the glass, rudely awakening them, all the while squealing with delight. Hey - she's a work in progress. Darla and Twinkle twinkle little star! springs to mind. I'll push the tank out of reach a little more.

Fish are friends, not food

Finding Nemo is a fave film so there's been one or two lines this week that I couldn't help but quote. But I've began to wonder, are fish our friends? Certainly, with Tallulah & Frederick, once their initial nervous behaviour was over, clearly down to a) settling into their smaller, less crowded abode, and b) realising the toddler that kept making a grab for them was actually unable to get to them, they've seemed to happily swim up and greet us, whenever we arrive down, fresh from slumber, cheerily saying "Morning Tallulah, morning Frederick, morning you other pipe-y-stripe-y ones." *

Think twice before going for a dog

A dog, man's best friend... pah! A fish though, for sure! I would definitely say don't get a dog, but do go for a goldfish any day, as it would appear there's a bit more to the whole fish thing than first meets the eye. 

Next time you peer in to a fish tank, remember that they're peering right back at you, and that they're either thinking, "Hello. How do you do?" or "Oh why don't you just sod off!" How very human of them.

*That'll be the kids then, I'm never cheery 'til I've had my caffeine fix.

A new all time low

This evening my girls are competing to see who can have the best super-strop.

It is actually quite difficult to gauge which one is winning.

 I may just have to join in and claim first prize...

Thought-provoking sister Kate (4) and a remedy for burns

Sister Kate lives in Ecuador. She lives a most health-orientated lifestyle and sends the most thought-provoking emails. Her latest is a natural remedy for burns. Read on...

When it comes to First Aid for burns, most of us know to put cold water on the burn to reduce the burning sensation before you do anything else. But how many of us know about the following treatment: to apply egg whites? 

Apparently, after spraying or running cold water on to the burn, if you apply egg whites to the affected area, it will help the healing process. 

The albumin solution (which if you can think about it in the panic, ought to be whisked a little), dries to form a protective layer. 

Once it has dried, you then apply another layer. And so on. And so forth.

These layers help to remove the heat from the burn, as well as heal the burn naturally and effectively. 

And how? Because apparently, egg white is a natural collagen. 

Brilliant!

Even more down to earth with a bump (6)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy

WEEK SIXTEEN 

Simon and I saw the midwife half way through the week and it was just wonderful to hear the wee ones heartbeat. I find hearing the heartbeat far more emotional than seeing the scan. Anyway, as you can imagine, we were so relieved. And finally, we actually began to relax. 

Simon was so excited. He sent me a text from work after the scan exclaiming, ‘We are having a baby!’ - emphasis on 'are' - you see, after all the disappointment, we had not let ourselves as a couple acknowledge it was all going to be okay. To us, this precise moment was pure joy, finally admitting to each other that the reality was, we were having another baby, and everything was fine. 

Only hours later, I sat crying on the bathroom floor. 

I'd found a small amount of blood in my underwear. I wiped my eyes and decided to ignore it. After all, I'd been there before and knew there was not a lot they could do about it if I was losing this baby too.

The next morning, there was more blood and no matter how much I wanted to, I could not pretend it wasn't there any longer. In the back of my mind, I knew it was useless. On autopilot, I resigned myself at that point to another round of heartache. I remained oddly calm and took myself to the doctors... 

...where they couldn’t find a heartbeat. It was definitely not looking likely now. But it didn’t make any sense, they had found it so quickly only two days before. We'd heard it. My own heart beat twice as fast and twice as loud, as I contemplated the silence of the baby, the doctor, and the sterile room.

Calm kicked in more so. I had to go to hospital and wasn’t allowed to drive, but a friend offered to drop me. She got cross waiting at home with me as I took my time, finishing an important document for work before surrendering to her passenger seat and the onslaught I was afraid would follow. From this point on I was a passenger in someone else's day. Watching on helpless. Calm to the point of serene.

At hospital, Simon was already waiting. He met me outside. "Here we go again," was all he said. We held hands. Firmly. And walked through the sliding doors.

We were soon greeted by a midwife. Matter of factly she said, ‘You know if it is a miscarriage, there is nothing we can do about it.’ Through silent tears I asked, ‘Would I be able to have an operation this time?' 

I was told to wait and see what the scan would bring. 

Fortunately, amazingly, it brought a bouncing bean and a low placenta. The placenta was in front of our baby and this had made it difficult for the doctor to pick up a heartbeat. It may have also explained the bleed, but probably not. Not at 16 weeks anyway. So mine was simply a warning sign. Slow down. I would definitely try. HA! Easier said than done with a two and a half year old.

FOOTNOTE: Pregnant women can sometimes bleed due to a low lying placenta. This condition is called 'placenta praevia’ and may occur from 24 weeks of pregnancy.

Exhausted via constant demand (toddler & I).

The day began at 5.30am. Again.

The day began with a tub of nappy creme being smeared around the bathroom. And a battle fighting to keep the hot tap shut off versus running furiously fast.

The day ended with big sister's school bag being submerged in the bathtub. And one of Daddy's socks.

In between, everything was mostly a tantrum, a 'no', or a smack (her not me).

In between, she consumed a variety of stuff that she should not have done: soap, chalk, pen tips, mud.

In between, she lost the use of her legs and demanded to be carried most places (until she reached the fun places such as the trampoline that is). 

Indeed, all day she demanded. And all day, I tried my best to ignore. To cuddle. To praise. Each in turn, when they were demanded.

And now she sleeps. Peaceful. 

No doubt, like myself, she is exhausted via constant demand. 

And I already know I've met the same conclusion I usually meet at this point in an evening.

Simply... I'm too old for this shit.

FOOTNOTE: Good job she's adorable.

Even more down to earth with a bump (5)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy

WEEK THIRTEEN

For several days this week, nausea and vomiting have let me be. What a wonderful relief. This morning however I felt sick again, so I’m not out of the woods yet, although it is slowly improving. My legs continue to itch on and off – but that's also notably better. And the insomnia too, I'm only waking to wee once or twice a night now. All in all, everything is improved.

WEEK FOURTEEN

Got sinusitis, that sucks. But my physical symptoms are nothing compared to how I'm feeling emotionally this week. It's tough as my Gran who I was so incredibly close to, passed away. Struck by sadness, my LIFE AS IT IS is suddenly overwhelmingly colourless. 

WEEK FIFTEEN

I started finally sleeping this week as my sinus trouble has slowly improved. It's so rubbish being pregnant and unable to take any drugs man. Still, was only sick once this week, so that's great. Although the flip side is I'm really quite worried. I have no other symptoms of pregnancy at all. That's odd. And I'm so desperately sad about Gran too. I cannot wait to hear the heartbeat at the Midwife’s visit next week.

One day after writing this - and one day prior to being 16weeks pregnant - I felt my baby moving. A quickening. Little bubbles. A flicker of joy amidst the grieving gloom.

TODDLER ANTICS My feral child (no.2)

It would appear the ants that have been marching 2x2 for ages, have finally retreated. (Probably something to do with the powder that was put down outdoors). Shame. I'm going to miss Sofia laying down on the floor and licking them up. 

FRAMED

Kyoto Kitchen, Winchester

Kyoto Kitchen
70, Parchment St
Winchester
Hants
SO23 8AT
01962 890895
kyotokitchen.co.uk

FRAMED

Winchester Fashion Show 

A winning weekend in Winchester

The strangest thing; winning that radio competition. I found out Friday Simon and I would be off to Winchester the very next day, and only a day before, I'd been on air telling my story to the whole of the south. But it was the evening before that, when quite out of the blue relatives had rung to say: "We're coming to have the kids for you on Saturday; you never get a break." Imagine my delight, when not only did I win the prize, but the sitter was already booked! And I never enter competitions... So yes, it was the strangest thing. The planets had aligned. 

Saturday morning the grandparents arrived early, and we left early. Winchester via Sat Nav is a novel travel experience. Back roads twist and tangle, passing thatched cottages and farmland in turn. The Hampshire countryside is at its best in the early morning sunshine and one gets a sense of Austen's territory. It is just beautiful.

I tried not to let my Sat Nav prejudice ruin our run and resulted in following Simon in following his toy. (I did wonder where the hell it was taking us though and if I would be sat in the hairdresser hot seat on time?). Half an hour on, about to sit in said hot seat, I swallowed my pride, agreeing yes it was not only the prettiest way - but also (grrrr) apparently, the fastest too. 

MENTAL NOTE: Is it just us, or does Sat Nav cause other couples such grief? 

And the sun came out!

It's lovely having warmer weather. We have been outside more than inside most of the week, and that's been wonderful. People are smiling and generally LIFE AS IT IS for everyone, is on the up. I love Winter, but I love Summer more!

The downside is that work is mad at the moment, (all good - I cannot complain), but finding yourself at a desk looking out to the blue skies is rubbish. Good job I'm able to work in the evenings is all I can say, for I've let a lot of the desk sitting be done when the sun has disappeared. Priorities right?!

Additional work has meant that I've not read a book I was supposed to have. My mates have organised a book club (how very grown-up - I must be in my 40's) and it is due to meet this coming week. I am only as far as chapter four. The wine and nibbles will compensate for not joining in with the review, girls - I apologise in advance.

You would have thought I could have read the book throughout our Easter holiday, but no, I was too busy doing nothing... We had a lovely break in Cornwall and the time away was heaven sent. Cornwall is a corner of the country that I would love to explore a whole lot more. I've learnt that beach days are sometimes best when cold, and flying kites with a 4yo and a 19mo is a brilliant way to pass the time. While there though, I could have done without the minor concussion... must remember for future reference that cottages have low doors!

Have been gardening since we got back and spring cleaning in general. What is it about having a good clear out? It gives you so much energy. So much energy, that although I have had to work so much, and not read a book so much, I found the time to enter a competition on local radio. Well, you'd never guess... I only went and won it. Amazing. It is true, you have to be in it to win it.

Tomorrow, the OH and I are off to be thoroughly spoilt: lunch/dinner/champers/hair&makeover (that's me) and general pampering for the whole day and night. Doesn't get much better than that, does it? So yes, the sun is shining. And it would appear it is shining down on me. 

Must dash... I'm off to buy a lottery ticket!

FURTHER TRAVEL TALES: Blessed in Bangkok

In a near forgotten past and in a life before children, there was a young girl who wandered without bags under her eyes but with a bag on her back. Here she returns to notes she made while visiting Bangkok. Oriental city and complete chaos... 

 

I make for the canal and pass Wat Poh, Wat Phra Kaew and the Grand Palace on route. A royal bombast, they represent Thailand’s history and architectural experimentation. Polished orange and green roof tiles bedeck their colourful treasures. Gold features heavily. Mosaic encrusted pillars and deluxe marble compliment extensive murals and statues. It is an aesthetic orgy whose rich appearance contrasts with the bright blue sky and the beggars beyond. 

The water taxi can wait. For the lure of such elaborate beauty is hard to resist. I cover my shoulders for the Reclining Buddha, who apparently blesses me as I light him a candle. The mood within is purely spiritual and the aroma of incense encourages the calmness. Three young boys, heads shaved and orange robed, walk serenely by. My gaze follows their direction and I notice a sign for the massage school.

Wat Poh is the national head quarters for the teaching and preservation of traditional Thai massage and medicine. Wandering in to a large room littered with bodies, it isn’t long before I too, lie on a mat that may as well not be there. The next hour I am pushed and pulled in directions alien to my now backpack styled slouch. The masseur means business. Her tiny hands work fast and hard. Her size betrays her strength. She cracks the vertebrae all the way up my spine, she doesn’t stop there and it feels as though my neck is doubling in length.

There are lots of locals here. Their voices remain at a melodic hush. It is apparent that this is a school of healing and not just relaxation. People are here for help. The Thai woman lying beside me yelps out loudly in pain. It is rather alarming. The two masseurs nod at each other. I am sure I observe ever such a slight smile between them. It is as though they are in competition. The one working on me kneels on my inner thigh. I grimace slightly.  Then I float.  

On the water taxi I feel so relaxed from my massage, I dreamily gaze over to the bank, not hearing the noise of the engine or smelling its smoking diesel. The canal meanders alongside lush greenery, teak houses on stilts and more temples.

A sudden movement catches my eye. A man holds an eel he has just caught in his hands. The water is brown and thick and he clambers out of it onto the make shift raft of four drum canisters supporting a piece of iron. He replaces his flip-flops, and climbs up the rubber-tire stairway to street level, dripping and clutching his catch. In the next tiny inlet, a young girl sits, washing clothes. 

Glancing down over the side of the boat I reflect: Quite clearly Thailand’s riches are not simply to be found within its palaces and temples. Momentarily the girl looks up at the busy water taxi passing by, then, continues with her work. I cannot see any soap powder. All I see are thousands of television aerials, surrounding a massive Coca-cola sign suspended high above her. The consumerist West invades my daydream. And then I'm moving again - this time in a taxi on the road.

Even more down to earth with a bump (4)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy -

WEEK NINE

The nausea and vomiting continue. They are such great signs I cannot ever complain – and I wont – but it is so tiring. On top of already being tiring. I read that even when you are resting at this stage, it is as if you are mountain climbing.

WEEK TEN

I've got itchy legs and often wake up through the night scratching them. If not I wake up to wee. Oh and when I don't wake up, it's because I'm already awake. Yes, the insomnia continues to eat in on my nights. However, I do think that overall, things are improving.

 

WEEK ELEVEN

Ha! This morning I threw up four times in a lay-by trying to take Esme, my two-year-old to nursery. As I hung out the driver door, I could hear her enquiring, "Mummy, Mummy." Each time I tried to respond, I puked some more. Unpleasant.

This week is an important milestone for me. Last pregnancy I got to this very point, and began bleeding. Two days on I lost that little being.

WEEK TWELVE

It is a great feeling - not only to have made it beyond the point of our miscarriage - but also to have had our 12 week scan. It's amazing to know that all is well with our baby. 

Our baby is measuring two inches long.

Our baby is sucking its thumb. 

Our baby has its legs crossed. 

Our baby is sat in the very bottom of my uterus.

Our baby is looking like it's snoozing in a hammock. 

Our baby is a bloody wonder.

Our baby.