Book

Who knew what treasures
paper held in cloth could offer?
Words spilling from left to right
across pages, decades and generations.
Cover stained with ring marks
from your cup - of solace, joy, salvation?
A fragile spine resting in hands
that once held yours.
Deep magic
joining hearts and heaven.


(God Calling by Two Listeners was first published in 1934 and was owned by my Grandparents in 1954, now it is speaking to me in 2011)

Rebel, rebel...

In church recently for a meeting when it struck me, yet again, how I don't seem to be able to behave myself in 'serious' situations ...attacks of giggles, sarcasm and a heightened innuendo awareness all plague me.

In said meeting when raising a certain point I knowingly said "to play devil's advocate"; common linguistic usage maybe and no jaws hit the floor but maybe the devil was closer than I thought!!

Chatting to a friend about it this morning I said "I don't know why such situations bring out the worst in me? He said "Maybe you're just a rebel".

Now it's not the first time it's been said but it still shocks me, after all I'm a nice middle class, relatively conservative girl who has a clean driving license and the closest I've come to criminal behaviour is the odd mobile phone call on the move.

So I thought well what does it mean to be a rebel. One dictionary definitions put it thus ...

1. To resist or defy an authority or a generally accepted convention.

And I have to say I like the idea of challenging a generally held convention, not for the sake of it but to see if it really holds true for me, rather than just blindly following.

I have to say it is often the safe/inane/basic nature of the dialogue at such meetings that causes my badness to stir from it's slumber, wanting to ask "really", "are you sure", "but why", "does it have to be", "can't we do better?". And even occasionally "was that really worth the energy of thought and use of breath?", which is rich seeing as my limited brain is oh so capable of making ridiculously ill-thought through statements all too easily.

I considered too well known rebels - Jesus, St Francis, Emmeline Pankhurst, Martin Luther King, Bart Simpson ... and the notion began to appeal, after all look at what these people achieved. Perhaps if I embrace my inner rebel my life will be more effective, who knows where it may lead.

Obviously you need to be a rebel with a cause, especially when you're not as good looking or zeitgeist capturing as James Dean or Marlon Brando but as Thomas Caryle so reassuringly puts it...

Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against.

Terrific tales for toddlers

Reading the same children's book three times in one sitting or repeatedly everyday can, with certain titles, have you reaching for the gin or worse still a revolver. But before you deprive your darling child of a beloved parent, teacher and voice of sane un-slurring authority reach for one of these titles. They are a huge hit with my two year old and have been loved by us all for some time.


Giraffe's Can't Dance by Giles Andreae - Such a feel good, life affirming, self esteem raising book. Fabulous bright pictures and a real sense of fun. Yes you guessed it even giraffe's CAN dance with a little help from their friends.


Augustus And His Smile by Catherine Rayner - Augustus the tiger has lost his smile and begins a solo quest to find it. A stunningly bold but simple morality tale, the illustrations in this book are sumptuous and mysterious. By turns menacing and playful it is a grown up book for little people, devoid of smultz, patronisation or saccharin platitudes.



When The World Is Ready For Bed by Gillian Shields - such a sweet but not cheesy book. Perfect for a Christening or naming day present. Teach toddlers how to treasure each day as a gift, their part in making it what it is and about the interconnectedness of us and our world.


Billy's Beetle by Mick Inkpen - This man must have been one of the main voices of childhood for over a decade. There are so many amazing stories by Mick Inkpen and he's created such a wealth of charming well known characters but this book is one of my favourite. Somewhat absurd in it's premise and characters it's the tale of a little boy who has lost his beetle and all the 'people' he encounters in his search to find it. I never get tired of reading it.


The Beeman by Laurie Krebs and Valeria Cis - This is a unique book from the fantastic Barefoot Books publishing house. Not only about caring for the natural world but about inter-generational relationships. It's quirky illustrations are great fun, especially spotting what the cat is up to on each page and the extra poem, recipe and factual information about bee's is really interesting. Would span a great age range.

Cre-ate-if ...part two

So the last three months of my challenge have been and gone and it's been a mixed bag to say the least.Nothing edible this time but some distinctly 'ify' moments.

September saw me undertake a secret project, or three in fact. Collating photo's for three books as Christmas presents. With a mac it is ultra easy and looks so professional but deciding what photo's to use and spending time taking shots to fill in the gaps has been great fun.

They were all brilliantly well received, if sobbing and a refusal to read the introduction in public are good signs!!

I started a Singing for Pleasure course at Bakewell Adult Education college in October, and instantly regretted not having enrolled earlier (it only took me a year!!). The course was led by folk singer, Lester Simpson and was brilliant fun. Very laid back, an ecclectic mix of music and a brilliant sense of achievement even though most weeks I found myself singing bass owing to the usual lack of men. One did start with his wife but by week three was never seen again! (Well by us at least, am hoping his wife still knew his whereabouts).

Having been given a sewing machine for my birthday in March, I finally found a window to try and see how it worked. The machine is awesome, made for idiots which is just as well as i appear to be such a one. I painstakingly drew a template of a doll's dress onto annoyingly curly greaseproof paper, put it onto an off cut of denim and cut it out full of enthusiasm for my new project.
The photo is here because this was the best part! I hemmed each section - one 6 times determined to get it perfect. Starting off turning the wheel by hand before building up enough guts to try the foot operated pedal. It was all going so well until I realised I'd cut the shoulder straps too short and underestimated my side seam allowance. Hey ho, it looked brilliant in parts but was no good for Lotta the ragdoll.

It was also a good exercise in how not to have a psychological melt down. Ghosts from my childhood rose up whispering "lack of abilility"and "missing out on the artistic gene"and a certain maternal spectre of "you don't want to do it like that" put it's oar in...until I realised that even my brilliant mother wasn't born perfect and had maybe even shed, just one, tear of frustration over a hot sewing machine in the early days of her efforts. Demon's battled, I packed away Lotta's dress and will when the time is right, unpick it (AGAIN) and recut the pattern and by golly when that new dress is finished woe betide any little girl who tries to remove it from that doll.

I thought I'd be out of luck, ideas and time for December as plans for salt dough ornaments, fig and date relish and home made cards came and went (well I did manage two but today I have made my thank you cards - little toddler finger prints for rudolph's nose - and a new baby one,for a boxing day addition to our world.










So I come in just before the bell and need to get thinking about what January's challenge may be...

From one home to another...

The Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, or Debo as her friends call her, has a saying about those who take up posts at Chatsworth. They stay "a fortnight or forever".

Her insight that makes my skin prickle as we, having fallen into the former camp, are now preparing to leave.

England's foremost stately home is amazing not least because of it's size and splendour but also because of it's democratic friendliness. It throws wide it's arms and welcomes all young and old, human, canine, equestrian and seems genuinely thrilled that so many do indeed enter it's gates.

Today we went for a final walk in the gardens, they are incredible. Kept by a comparatively small team there is something astounding at almost every turn whether an interesting planting combination - pampas grass, monkey puzzle trees and variagated holly in one stunning area - or an outlandish sculpture.

The Duke and Duchess have been wonderful employers too. They are thoroughly interested in the commercial side of the estate and it's employees and their generous enthusiasm has made it a lovely place to be associated with.

I will relinquish my estate pass with great sadness and look forward to visits in the future, queuing up to get in with so many eager to experience this great place.

Foodie findings...

It's funny how sometimes you find a scrumptious surprise in an unexpected place and the next minute it's all over the place. Salt caramel is one such thing. I stumbled across salt fudge a while ago and cannot get enough of it whether in cookies or ice cream or just as is. Now it seems to be widely infiltrating the high street with possibly the best use in M&S's wicked pecan and salt caramel tart with belgium chocolate. The latter seems to be rather over-egging the pudding but I suspect I'll survive, IF I ever get to try it that is. My two local stores haven't had any, despite it being the grand finale of their recent tv ad campaign. Tish tish!

Whitley Neill is my top gin tip, if you like yours citrus-sweet and very smooth, yummy!I can't believe how many different characteristics you can find in this one spirit and there are some delicious ones on the market but this is definitely my fav.

Cre-ate-if...

Feeling like I'm just getting my head back round this thing called life, I've noted the important part my garden has played in my therapy. Not just the fresh air and switching off or even the achievement but just the excitement of trying something new.

For this reason I decided to aim for 12 new things in the next 12 months and we'll see how we go...

I'm counting number one starting in June with Eldeflower Cordial, I've always wanted to try making it and this year with a tree just a few strides from the house and an encouraging neighbour I had a go. It was incredible. I used Sarah Raven's fruity recipe which was brilliantly simple and lasted really well

The veggie patch is number two. I had a largely unloved and really quite unproductive allotment in London but my timber raised beds are a whole new ball game. I've grown new things in a completely new way and was not prepared for the results, we didn't buy fresh veg or salad all summer as we had more than we new what to do with and I suspect winter would have been pretty good two had we not had to quit whilst we were ahead.

In August, overwhelmed by the mass of courgettes my two plants were knocking out I made "Gluttney", Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall's humorous pickle. I've never attempted jam or the like and have been delighted by this sweet-savoury relish so much that I've even given my first home made presents!

I wonder what joys the following months will hold?!

degrees of seperation between rhymes...or some silliness

When wondering what Lent has meant
I thought it's maybe like rent
paying for what was spent on my salvation.
It's a space where my pent up soul can expand,
holy ground just passing,like a moment on a mountain not demanding a tent.
It's enough maybe to dent our quotidian walls,
a window for light and for love.
Like a memory sent of colour and glass
and a sacred moment in a church down in Kent.

Longing for spring

Outside all is snow and fog
a world obscured.
These winter days have white-washed my heart too
It should be dancing
But it lost it's shoes

Nibbling...

I don't know who said the cold burns extra calories but that's not what my jeans tell me!

The need for carbs though is stronger for ever as comfort eating becomes the only way to survive as I look out on endless whiteness; snow, freezing fog, ice - not much to inspire the eyes so the tongue has to be tantalised instead!!

So this morning I made Cheese Pastry Sticks from Cooking for Coco by Sian Blunos.

100g cream cheese
100g butter
100g plain flour

She says mix the ingredients together until it resembles course bread crumbs then bring them together into a ball and chill over night or for a few hours at least.

Although 100g of flour should have been enough to cope with the cheese and butter, mine was very wet and bread crumb effect was far off. I put a load of extra flour in (after scrounging some from the neighbour) and it became a slightly sticky, quite solid ball.

Unperturbed I put it in the fridge overnight and rolled it out successfully, cutting it into little stars before egg-washing it and baking on 230C for 10 mins.

They are lovely, though could do with seasoning. Sian also suggests poppy, carraway (yuk) or seasame seeds which would be delicious but not so good for blossom at this stage. However I think some grain mustard or maybe even flavoured cream cheese might work too.

First time I've done some baking for ages, and it worked, brilliant!

Poetry please...

"Poetry is the music of being human"

So says Poet Laureate, Carol Ann Duffy in last Sunday's Songs Of Praise. I just love that description, it ties in to my ongoing fascination with the ordinary being a dwelling place of something 'other'.

For words are indeed musical and also magical and it's the enchanting that is often beautifully brought alive in poems.

Carol Ann's poem Prayer (echoing that by George Herbert) does just that for me, it's the perfect explanation of God being in the very fabric of our existance, again it's the mystical in the everyday...

Prayer (1993)

Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So, a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.

Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.

Pray for us now. Grade I piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child's name as though they named their loss.

Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.

I wonder what are the unformed prayers of our days, what sounds make up the music of our humanness?

Maybe that's something to attend to for another post...

Something 'extra'...

11 months ago I did something extraordinary, I gave birth to a baby girl. What followed has undoubtedly been an incredible adventure, filled with almost-daily miracles but at the same time the ordinary is larger than ever and how to deal with it is a big question for this year, and my sanity.

The routine of motherhood, of living in windows of free time is challenging. Like writing this blog post, I can only do it now because Blossom has finally on the third attempt gone to sleep. How do I make those windows count, without exhausting myself and with still achieving all the hum drum must-do's like cleaning, washing etc. How do I handle the guilt I put on myself if I spend my small parcel of free time reading a magazine or online as it doesn't seem a substantial achievement for my day?

Thinking about this as the snow pours out of the sky is also interesting, here is extraordinary weather which results in us being stuck inside the house, stuck with the ordinary.

I wonder if this collocation always follows? Perhaps that's a clue to the answer to this question.

Perhaps the extraordinary is closer to the ordinary than we think?

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.