And prize for the biggest meany goes to...

Royal Mail!

Can't believe they've developed stamps that can't be peeled off and reused!! That was one of life's bonuses, like finding a tenner in the back pocket of your jeans, now it's been mercilessly taken from us. I really can't believe that many escape the franking machines and survive the furtive peeling-off exercise, surely their profits can't be suffering that much.

But they have gone and developed little cuts in the body of the stamp that make it impossible to peel it off in entirety from one direction...that's soooooo tight.

Boooo, booo, booo. Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Simple Pleasures

Last week I missed out on a picnic of tea and cake on Stewkley rec. It was a gorgeous blue sky, sunny day and the thought of hanging out with friends was really appealing. It struck me how just tea and cake has been come a real ritual for this group and is the setting for sharing, much love and laughter. It made me think about the pleasure of simple things, following on from my carpet thanks giving.

On the same morning I saw a poppy growing out of the crack between curb stones, it's yellow pollen matching the double yellow lines. I was in too much of a rush to take a photo but just to notice it's brief quirky appearance was a gift. Another simple pleasure. The daisy above and miniature iris have self seeded in my back yard and today I had time to take a photo.

This all reminded me of a song on the theme by brilliant band Dolly Varden, one of the simple pleasures from my old job!

Simple Pleasure - Dolly Varden

It's nifty to be thrifty

Just watched River Cottage on Channel 4 plus one (I so take back what I said about a channel solely playing the same schedule at a later time being rubbish, I live there now bedtime always clashes!!).

It was left overs night at the restaurant and Hugh and Tim came up with a host of inventive dishes. It was funny because I'd just been thinking about being thrifty as i made a stock out of my asparagus ends, carrot peelings and parsley stalks, amongst other things. I can't bear to throw food away and I love the promise of stock that out of waste comes something delicious and unexpected, whether a soup or risotto.

I'm reading Life with God by Richard Foster at the moment and he's just been talking about spiritual discipline and exercises and he lists frugality as such a thing. I'd never thought about it in that sense but I totally see it. Being creative should be a hall mark of faith, as is gratitude for and nurturing of resources and it's amazing what a sense of achievement I get out of making the most of things, or at least trying. Like Hugh at River Cottage I'm determined to honor the growth of food, whether meat of veg or grain by doing it full service.

I guess Kirsty's Home Made Home bought into this with all the digging in skips and rooting round antique shops and reclamation yards. It's amazing how snobbish we can be about 'junk' if we're not looking at it creatively. It's great to think too that the tide may be turning and rather than throwing things away at the drop of a hat we might really start to buy items for keeps, re-use and truly recycle.

On that theme I've just taken charge of real, cloth nappies. Blossom will be the third or fourth baby in some of them, which seems very sustainable. It's always hard to know with the energy versus landfill argument, especially as we've been using biodegradable, non-chlorine bleach, non plastic disposables to date. But I guess we'll still do a mix of both.

Hugh also examined bread, with all it's dodgy additives, that alongside not being able to find a decent loaf these days has me itching to try making my own but I'm not sure if I've got the staying power to get beyond the brick phase. Never was very good at practice makes perfect but who knows...

Something in reserve?

Tonight I met with a great friend, when we parted a song came into my mind that I hadn't heard for years. My heart often forms prayers for people that way.

It had been a really busy day with loads of visitors and as I cleared up a mountain of washing up and a chaotic house, there was something reassuringly therapeutic about restoring order and something peaceful about the methodical washing, drying and wiping, collecting, folding and tidying. It was a very spiritual calm and taking the washing off the line in the fading light it felt like tidying the day away and putting all that had been to bed. You know that feeling of having had a gloriously full day and collapsing into bed exhausted but buzzing? Kind of like that.

Then we had a powercut.

Thankfully I'd restored order and had settled down to surf the web so no real harm done. I lit a few candles and got out our super powerful torch to read by but it lasted about 3 minutes before dying. How typical! The only time we've needed to use it and it had no charge left.

I thought about that as a somewhat cheesy metaphor for faith, I could just imagine it in a less than subtle sermon "are your batteries charged enough to give you light in the darkness?!" I guess the thought occurred to me after my previous thankfulness for that song.

And it led me to wonder what I've read or listened to recently that might become useful in future? And I felt a lack of anything sustaining. In fact I'd been bemoaning an absence of anything uplifting or happy to read to Auntie Flower recently. Whilst I've read some great books, fascinating writing, it's all been a bit doom-laden and whilst that has it's place, it can all too easily lead to unhelpful navel gazing, false comparisons and negativity if one's not careful.

Mulling all this over tonight I was reminded of the words from Romans...

Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind ...

I love it when I either make the effort to search out those things, people or experiences that enable me to find that renewal or when I'm able to just stop with God in order to let him change something in me or show me something new in Him.

Tonight in the garden after bagging the washing I stood listening to the evenings activity and giving thanks for all the thinking, conversations and experiences that had happened in this house. I'll be sad to leave it's been such a special home but I know I've received a wealth of reserves here that will power me up for whatever the future holds.

Thanks

Thanks to the friend who recently reminded me to take off my slippers, feel the carpet beneath my feet and give thanks.

Simple Supper

Have been making a conscious effort to try some new recipes again, after falling back into the same old ruts and the Mighty W came up with this brilliantly easy recipe on one of it's recent pamphlets...

Salmon Teriyaki with Tenderstem Broccoli

4 tbsp Teriyaki Paste
1 tbsp Chilli Paste
2 Salmon fillets
4 tbsp Vegetable Oil
200g Tenderstem Broccoli

1. In a shallow dish mix together the teriyaki paste and half the chilli. Add the salmon fillets, turn to coat in the mixture and leave to marinate for 10 minutes
2.Heat half the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. When pan is hot, add the salmon skin side down and cook for 2-3 minutes until deep golden. Then turn over and cook for another 2-3 minutes or until the fish is cooked through. Add the marinade and bubble for 30 seconds.Set aside.
3. Meanwhile heat the remaining veg oil, add the remaining chilli paste and broccoli and 3 tbsp of water and stir fry for 3 minutes or until al dente. Serve with the salmon, sauce and steamed rice.

Thoughts...

To make it even easier you could just steam the brocolli and not worry about frying it with the chilli. We used mixed basmati and wild rice which gives great texture and flavour. The salmon is also great topping a vegetable and noodle stir fry!

Enjoy...

Noticing...

A long while back I spent a while trying to be conscious of God in the ordinary bits of my job, I just came across to reflections I wrote as a result and thought they may resonate with some of you youthworkers out there...

Locking up

With the turn of a key, I am alone in the darkness.
The chill air stings my cheeks still flushed from the chatter, the games and the sugar.
My breath is silver against the night.
Breath of life,
Given by You.
Breathe life into all who have just left this place,
Breathe into them possibility and life unfolding.
Breath of life,
Breathe life into me again.
Fill this tired body, weary mind and anxious heart.
Breathe life into me again,
Here in the darkness,
Finally alone.

Diary

People, places, times and venues
Days filled, hours crammed, minutes packed
Where are You on these pages,
You who holds forever?

You are in the blanks and the lines and the full stops.

Teach me to seek you out underneath and in between these inky distractions.
To pause before each new entry and acknowledge your presence,
in all, through all and for all.

13 weeks

Blossom is 13 weeks old and it's incredible how she's no longer a baby...I mean of course she is but that initial distant, dependent stage seemed to be over so quickly.

Johnson and Johnson have a sickly ad that says "when a baby is born so is a mother" and once I finished wretching I had to admit this is in many ways true. Although my maternal powers existed long before she did, thanks to experience of caring for younger siblings and a team of younger work colleagues who I seemed determined to mother!

But it is interesting how your frame of reference grows along with a child and also how you re-access your childhood. The other day I found myself singing to her,

Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible tells me so, little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong. Yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves me, yes Jesus loves me the bible tells me so.

I wasn't really sure where it came from or how a knew it growing up in a largely non religious household. (Turns out it was my Mum, funny the hope "God bless" was also uttered every night as the bedroom door was closed, religious no, spiritual yes).

It reminded me of an amazing seminar I attended by Kenda Creasy Dean, author of The Godbearing Life. It was all about adolescence and how we form our identity and how people around us influence that. It was also looking at how we walk with teenagers through that to best help them find community, creed, hope and ultimately through these things faith. She started one of the sessions getting us to think about our experience of teen age and how we felt about ourselves, with all our insecurities, hopes, longings, fears and experimenting and she got us to sing that song from that place.

The power of that truth; that we are loved even in the midst of the shifting sands of our becoming was immense and is still with me ... I hope I can have the grace to share that gift with my little one, both when she is weak and strong.

Let them eat cake...

Just made some chocolate brownies from my Aussie neighbour's recipe, perfect with a cup of tea after coming in from the snow!!

Melt 185g dark chocolate and 125g of butter together
Stir in 1 cup of sugar and 2 eggs (one at a time)
Fold in 1 cup of plain flour and 1 cup of chopped walnuts (I used mixed fruit and nuts as it was all the cupboard provided!)
Cook at 180/gas mark 5 for 30 minutes

To be really naughty ice with...

Mix 2 cups of icing sugar with 2 tbsp cocoa
Melt 1 tbsp of butter and add, along with milk, to the above until you get the right consistency.

Yum!

The poetic version

You're by Sylvia Plath

Clownlike, happiest on your hands
Feet to the stars, and moon-skulled
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo's mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fool's Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Father off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bud at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

Today's the day...

that our little Sprout is due. But I don't think he or she has any intention of arriving just yet.

Talking to Mum earlier we were reflecting on how quickly you forget the experience of pregnancy and although several people have asked if I was keeping a journal I've found it really hard to commit any thoughts about the process to paper.

In some ways I've been unwillingly superstitious after miscarrying last time, not wanting to create anything that may out-last this baby but recently I've come to a place where I think I can accept the pregnancy for what it is as a complete experience in and of itself now, before I even get onto thinking about life with my child.

I've been so well, a tiny bit of nausea and overwhelming tierdness early on but nothing more than that. In the last weeks I have the trade mark swollen ankles and am starting to feel like I am shrinking or at least am now as wide as I am tall.

I have loved the timetable that Sprout has kept, springing to life each night as my head touches the pillow and how it's striking a flamenco pose - one had by its head beating my bladder and two feet stamping by my ribs - and dancing earned it the name Ernest Fandango.

I have loved everyone's hopes, dreams and opinions on this child, how my half brothers and sisters named it Sedgley (?!) in a moment of familial madness and are almost bursting for it's arrival.

Reading up about it's development; a heart as tiny as a poppy seed beating at 6 weeks, seeing it yawn during a scan and taking turns to poke each other through my stomach.

It aches to think of those who couldn't wait on this earth to meet this new member of the family and intrigues me to see in what ways this child will carry their story on.

My waist measurement is 42 inches, I have no idea what I weigh. My hair and skin have been in amazing condition throughout, with no stretchmarks! I've been swimming every week, walking most days of maternity leave. Haven't craved anything to the point of having to have it but crisps, MacDonald's (yea gads), coca cola, sherry and everything I shouldn't eat (blue cheese, smoked salmon etc) have seemed awfully appealing. I went off coffee, tea and wine for two thirds of the ride but am now happily imbibing all three - in moderation of course.

Wierdest experience, heightened sense of smell. I swear I could have worked for the drugs squad in my first trimester, it was the most bizarre thing and not always pleasant

Will I miss life with a bump? Definitely. I'm wondering whether it will feel lonely for a while without an on-board friend.

Am I ready to give birth? Nature is a wonderful thing getting you to just that point of being so uncomfortable that you're ready to take delivery of this miraculous package.