My contrary child

Sometimes I think that Isabel likes to do the opposite of whatever I've asked her to do, just for the sake of being contrary. And then I realise that of course this is exactly what she's doing, since she is her father's daughter after all. She's actually not been too bad today - during the "terrible twos" she had phases of just being a bundle of No, it was as if she'd forgotten every other word in the English language.
I've learnt, obviously, to play this to my advantage wherever possible. For example, in the shoe shop yesterday I made a fuss over the shoes next to the ones I actually wanted her to have, so of course she ignored them, and went for the ones I'd wanted all along. Cunning.
These little tricks don't always work though. This evening, since Husbandio is out playing badminton and then having dinner with a friend he doesn't see too often, I decided we'd have a decadent tea of blueberry pancakes. Not standard dinner fare, but not too bad - only eggs, milk, flour and blueberries really. We shared them between us and she ate exactly as much as me - how I don't know, since I was stuffed once I'd finished. But no, she then gave me a sideways glance, and whispered "let's find some dessert in the fridge...!" I'd kind of thought that blueberry pancakes were both main course and dessert but no, she wanted something else, so I joked "well, you'd better have a pork pie then" - and that's exactly what she did. The whole thing. Good job it was only a mini one. She's clearly regained the upper hand now - how can I play things to my advantage if she's sometimes going to unexpectedly agree with me? Curse that clever child!

Friday is the new Friday

Until this week I'd worked either a three day week or a four day week for the last four years. Since I now have official permission to be a person who works from home, my hours have changed, and I'm working a four day week (i.e. 28 hours) over five days. So, 9am - 3pm most days, and some time in the evenings to catch up with those West Coast colleagues whom I can't otherwise manage to speak to.

Working a four day week I found was just right - a nice long weekend, but still a good amount of time to get stuff done in. Three days just wasn't enough to do anything productive - I always felt that the week had no sooner started than it was over again. And I used to really enjoy having Fridays off, seeing friends, or going to places like soft play centres without them being packed with schoolchildren. That's all over now though - for the next umpteen years we'll only be visiting things out of school hours, and Friday has again become the final day of the week.

This is an oddly depressing thought. But not quite as depressing as the knowledge that Husbandio, my mum and I will be spending Sunday packing up the kitchen in preparation for getting the old kitchen ripped out and a new one put in. Husbandio's depressed too, since one of his best friends moved back to South Africa today, so he's lost a good PlayStation buddy as well as a good friend. Sorry about this whingy post everyone, back to my normal cheeriness tomorrow after a good night's sleep and a day of sorting things out in the house, always perks me up (sad, I know.....).

Working from home - officially

I had breakfast with my boss this morning, and one of the questions I wanted to ask her was whether I'd be allowed to change my working location from our Covent Garden office to my home office. And the lady from California (as opposed to the man from Del Monte), she say "yes"! Hoorah! I didn't really have any doubts that I'd get a positive response, partly because so many people in the company already work from home, and partly because the response to any reasonable request like this in the past has always been positive. But it's nice to know that it's a definite yes, since now I can get on with planning things. I won't get my home office properly organised until I go back to work after my maternity leave in October, at which time I'll need a dedicated business line and one of those nice posh printer/scanner/copier thingies. Which is handy, since we don't have a printer at the moment.

I'll probably still have to do some travelling since that's a fairly integral part of the job, and I'll have to go into town occasionally to see clients, but I can try to do that on days when I've already arranged for school pick-up to be looked after, and of course I can try to make sure I get more than one appointment on days when I do go into town. One of the things I may well have to attend is our annual conference, which this year is being held at what looks to be an enormously posh hotel in Ireland. Husbandio's best friend lives over in Ireland with his wife and daughter, so we may be able to combine the work trip with some socialising too. Or maybe I'll just hide in the spa, now there's a nice thought.....

My first NCT experience

Yesterday I went to the first of my NCT (National Childbirth Trust) ante-natal classes. The course itself was fairly pricey which made me go into the whole experience daring it to be value for money - so far the jury is still out. But I can't really judge yet, since I've only been to one class and I have five more to go. And when I say class, I don't mean a 45 minute session, I mean two and a half hours of conversation and bonding. And also a full day six hour Saturday session in a couple of weeks' time which Husbandio has been informed he is coming too as well. So from a time persective it's good value for money!

I'm sure some of you are wondering why I even bothered to sign up for NCT classes since I've been through this childbirth thing once before and should have a vague inkling as to what's going on. It's not really the content of the classes that interests me, it's the ability to get to know local mums with kids the same age as mine. Since we only moved out here a year ago I thought this would not only help to expand our social circle with people we had something in common with, but would also help me to find out about local services for babies and toddlers which will be useful while I'm on maternity leave. I tried to get into one of their refresher classes for second time mums but they were all full, so I ended up on a course of first timers. Slightly annoying, but not much I could do about it.

There were eight of us in the group, and two brought husbands/partners. We did quite a lot of "getting to know you"-type exercises, such as splitting into groups of three and trying to come up with ten things we had in common. Apart from babies. Not as easy as it sounded, but a good ice breaker. We also did some relaxation, unfortunately not on very comfy chairs so the result was that I lost all feeling in my arms and hands. This was because the course leader recommended that we turn our chairs around and sit astride them, resting our arms on the back - this apparently encourages the baby to get into a better position, and is quite important from 34 weeks on. In standard slumpy on the couch positions the baby tends to settle with its back against the mother's back, and if they're in that position when you give birth it's meant to be excruciatingly painful. So, lots of sitting up and straddling the chair for me from now on!

We also discussed where we were having our babies, and to my surprise I was the only one going to Wycombe - some were going to Stoke Mandeville, some to Wexham Park, and one to Watford. I still think Wycombe sounds fine - there was a rumour that the unit was closing but apparently that's not the case, so that's good to know. It's the closest place to us, which for me was the main criteria, since I'm not planning on being in there very long, fingers crossed.

Actually, if those are the only things I learn then it's money well spent. And the people seemed nice too, so it's all looking quite positive so far. And not too hippy happy clappy, which was one fear of mine - although I'm still waiting for the "breast-feeding good, bottle-feeding evil" lecture...!

A foodie post

Just a short one tonight, since it's gone 11pm and definitely time for me to be a-sleepin'. Which is a shame, because I did a lot today so have lots to write about, but I'm just too darned tired. The review of my first NCT class will have to wait until tomorrow.

Tonight I went into town for a work dinner at Hibiscus, one of only eight restaurants in London to currently hold two Michelin stars. We went there in December for our work Xmas do, which was lush, and I was a little disappointed tonight as I didn't think the food was as good as it had been before . Given the bump, I wasn't there for the drink, although they did do a nice non-alcoholic cocktail with lots of fresh mint. The menu for tonight's meal is below - and my only comment before going was "Beetroot??!! Why is there always flamin' beetroot?!" I can't bear beetroot - it's not just the taste, it's the way it infiltrates and stains everything else on the plate. And my experiences in the past couple of years of dinners at posh restaurants have always resulted in me having to eat either beetroot or, even worse, goats cheese. On one dreadful occasion I was served a beetroot and goats cheese salad, which was just vile. Anyway, I tried the beetroot tart, and it wasn't bad. It was also small, so I finished it. I'm not one for leaving anything on my plate, especially nowadays. It was rescued from over-beetrootness by the feta sorbet, a very Heston Blumenthal-esque invention, if you ask me. Whoever heard of a cheese sorbet? Nice though.

Fine Beetroot and Orange Tart,
Smoked Feta Sorbet

Roast Rack of Shropshire Veal
Ragout of Puy Lentils
Jerusalem Artichoke, Argan Oil

New Season Carrot Cake
Purple Carrot & Rosewater Sorbet, Blood Orange

Posh eh?

Spring is sprung

When I was a kid my parents taught me a little poem about Spring, which I've never forgotten. It goes like this (last three lines to be said in a silly New York-style accent!):

Spring is sprung
The grass is riz
I wonder where de boidies is?
De boids is on de wing
But dat's absoid
De wings is on de boid!

It seems appropriate to quote this poem since, in the UK at least, Spring is definitely in the air and, after the snows of early February, it's most welcome. Our rockery now has some lovely colourful ferns, and even some snowdrops.





Of course, last year we had lots of snow in April, so I'm trying not to assume that the weather will hold! But it is lovely to pop out of the house in a jacket, rather than in a huge coat, scarf, hat and gloves.

With that in mind, we re-visited Wendover Woods this weekend, which looked very different to the last time we were there. We could actually drive in and park in the car park, which was impossible last time due to all the snow and ice. It's a lovely place to go because it has a Go Ape centre (always fun to watch screaming people sliding down zip lines), a nice cafe, a playground and several signposted walks and cycle rides. One of these walks is the All Ability trail which is only 0.6 miles, about right for a four year old and her Fat Bird mother. Actually, Isabel, Husbandio and I could probably have gone further, but we were with our friend Lisa who was visiting for the weekend and is renowned for not being the keenest walker in the world (I'm sure she won't mind me saying that!).

There are some lovely views from Wendover Woods too, because it's the highest point in the Chilterns (below we're posing next to the stone which marks the highest point - OK, it's not a mountain, but still cool!).



Wendover Woods also has lots of tepee-type structures built by the visitors presumably, and just right for little girls to sneak into.


And before you ask - no, I couldn't squeeze in there, which is why Isabel is in there by herself...!

Slumdog verdict

I went out last night, which is a very unusual occurrence, and therefore definitely worth writing about. When Isabel was little it was difficult to go out due to breast-feeding schedules, and it's been remarkably easy to fall into a habit of going to work, coming home to make dinner and do bathtime/bedtime, and to just forget about going out entirely. I've got to the point now where I find being out in the dark at night quite disturbing. How pathetic.

Anyway, my good friend Lisa came to stay for the weekend, so I took the opportunity to go out for once, leaving Husbandio and his friend to babysit while also blowing people up. Using a PS3 game, you understand. She and I went to High Wycombe, that mecca of cultural experiences, to go and see Slumdog Millionaire. And gorge ourselves on popcorn and Minstrels. And drink vats of diet coke. (Sidenote: why are drinks at the movies always so big? Are cinema owners trying to force their customers to miss part of the film because they have to go to the loo?!)

The premise of the movie is a clever one. We see the main character's life in flashback as he is interrogated by the police on suspicion of cheating on India's version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire, and recalls how it is that, even as an uneducated "slumdog", he knows the answers to the specific questions posed to him on the show. The film's brilliantly shot - the scene of the main character as a small child jumping into a disgusting pool under an outdoor toilet was enough to put me off my Minstrels. For a minute anyway. I felt quite crowded in after seeing it - all those hundreds of thousands of people living in slums is hard to imagine. All in all, I very much enjoyed it, and am glad to have seen at least one of the Oscar contenders. And the kids in the movie are very cute and I love the story about them going to Hollywood. But then my over-active hormones started making me sad about all of the kids for whom living in those Mumbai slums is an everyday reality - indeed, even the kids in the movie still live in the slums, one underneath a tarpaulin. Movies are a cruel business indeed....

New pregnancy symptoms

I've entered a whole new stage of pregnancy, with some reasonably funny symptoms. The challenge, now that I'm seven months gone, is knowing where I begin and end. I don't mean that in a metaphysical "my child is part of me" sense, but in the sense that I keep bumping into doorframes because I can't tell how big I am. And I'm not even that big - goodness knows that people do if they have a really huge bump. I've become really clumsy - today I managed to punch the wardrobe door when trying to fold a sheet, and I keep bumping the bump into the table or desk when I try to pull myself a bit closer in. It's not the size that's the problem - it's the fact that it keeps changing. It's most discombobulating.

Anyway, this will be a short post today because my lovely friend Lisa has just arrived to stay the night. We're off to see Slumdog Millionaire later, after a dinner which Husbandio is cooking, so an enjoyable evening looms. So, tomorrow looks like being a move review entry. Having said that, I just love the whole experience of going to the movies, I don't even really care what I see (Will Ferrell movies excepted, obviously). So I expect to have a lovely time even if I don't enjoy the movie!

A day at IKEA - heaven or hell?

Isabel and I and a teacher friend of mine who is on half term spent much of today in IKEA, which I admit would be some people's idea of hell. Husbandio springs to mind here. And my dad. Perhaps it's just all men! Anyway, I went with a list, which was a good idea, since otherwise there's a real daner of coming out having spent loads of money on stuff which I didn't really want. The main thing I wanted to do was to get accessories for our new kitchen, on which the builders will hopefully be starting work at the beginning of March. I managed to get everything I wanted, which was nothing short of miraculous. Having to traipse all the way back there would have been most irritating. Some things are just so much cheaper to get in IKEA than anywhere else, and I'm not sure I quite understand why - I bought all the downlighters for underneath the new units plus two track lights for the ceiling for about half what I would have paid elsewhere. And also bought fun stuff like a magnetic knife rack (which I almost had to leave behind as it got very attached to the metal bagging up area by the till, and I could barely prise it loose)!

Isabel just loves IKEA, and I think that's why it's a pleasurable shopping experience for me. After all, happy kids = happy parents = parents prepared to spend more than if they were desperately rushing round the store in an effort to escape as soon as possible. We had a nice lunch (meatballs, natch) before setting off, so no cries of thirst or hunger, and lots of play time in the restaurant play area and the kids section. And when she got tired, we just popped her in the trolley with the shopping! It really is a shop designed for kids, since there's plenty to explore. And keeping the kids happy is the best marketing ploy I can think of - she was still beaming as we drove away, having thoroughly enjoyed a ride on the merry go round on the way out, which was her reward for good behaviour. Mummy's reward was some chocolate, which is calling me from the cupboard. Even Daddy got a gift, a bag of mini Dime bars (although I think the best gift for him was not having to come with us....!)

Social networking - or should that be anti-social?

There was an interesting article on the BBC web site yesterday in which a psychologist called Dr Aric Sigman claimed that use of social networking services like Facebook and Twitter could harm people's health because it reduces the amount of face to face interaction people have with each other. And he didn't mean it could harm their emotional or psychological health - he's claiming that real health problems could occur, such as increased rates of cancer, strokes, heart disease and dementia. When I mentioned this to Husbandio he said that I'd probably be quite happy to live on social networks all the time and never interact with people face to face ever again. I rather flippantly agreed, but in thinking it over I don't think that's entirely true.

What is true is that I love the online networking capabilities offered to me by Skype, Twitter and Facebook, which are the three services I use most. I was a pretty early adopter of online chat programs since a very good friend of mine used to live in Israel and we'd chat every few weeks using ICQ (it was cheaper than making a phone call!). When my company was acquired by a US operation a couple of years ago we all adopted Skype, since most people in the business work from home and it's a low cost way to keep in touch or to see if colleagues are available to talk. I tend to use Facebook and Twitter for social interaction with friends, and save my use of LinkedIn purely for work.

I think the reason I like these services is that I enjoy the casual nature of the conversations, and the fact that I have control over what's going on. If the phone rings, for example, it's not rude to just stop Skyping and resume a little while later. I can interact with people on my schedule, so if I'm not feeling chatty I won't Twitter, or will change my Skype status to invisible. It also forces you to think about what you want to say - whittering when you see someone in person is fine, but happens less when you actually have to type every word of your whitter. I also like the fact that I can keep up with people quickly and easily, so that when I do see them I know the gist of what's been going on and can have a conversation about things which are of most importance instead of spending ages catching up on all of their activities. Final thing, of course, is that I can update my friends and colleagues all at the same time, which saves telling multiple people the same thing.

I've been thinking about whether I spend less time face to face with people though, and I have to say that I probably do. But that's not just due to social networking, and I do enjoy seeing people face to face as well. It just doesn't happen much for several reasons - I have a small child (and therefore rarely go out in the evenings, sad but true!), my company is very geographically dispersed and we only now have two other people who are regularly in the London office (where I used to be able to see 10 people every day easily), and I'm increasingly working from home because the commute is really long. So actually, social networking came along at a great time for me, since without it I'd probably have lost touch with a lot more people than I have. In twenty years' time I'll try to do more face to face stuff again, but in the meantime my social life will, out of necessity, have to exist more online than in the real world. I'll make sure I eat lots of fruit though, to keep healthy, just in case the rather intense looking Dr Sigman is right. (BTW, anyone else think he looks like a man who is desperately in search of a media career, or is it just me?)

Getting down and dirty in the kitchen

Husbandio and I have, for the past several years, watched Masterchef, and in fact it's on in the background as I write this blog entry.   I find the series a bit long, although I always enjoy the end as it gets towards choosing an actual winner.  What I find ironic is that the way in which we cook has been totally unaltered by watching the show.  Husbandio, if anything, cooks less now than he used to a year ago, which is a pity for several reasons.  Firstly, he's a good cook, much more intuitive than I am.  Of course, he does use every implement and dish in the kitchen, so the tidying up leaves something to be desired!  Secondly, doesn't everyone like being cooked for?   I think I'm probably quite an annoying person to cook for as I tend to hang around in the kitchen and try to get involved - perhaps this has put him off.  I'll try to change my ways.  I will, honest!

The one thing I am trying to do is to cook new stuff, as I said I would.  Today I made spaghetti carbonara with garlic mushrooms, which I used to do years ago but haven't done for ages (probably because it's highly calorific!). It was yummy - went down well with the child, Husbandio and my mum, who's staying for a couple of nights to look after Isabel during half term.  Last week the new dish was pizza, which isn't new as such, but I made the pizza dough from scratch which I've never done before.  Came out marvellously, though I say so myself, and thank goodness for the breadmaker which did a great job of kneading the dough for me! And my new pizza pans created some nice crispy bases.  Hmm, all this talk of food is making me peckish, might need a cup of tea and a little slice of something before bed.

Working from home is definitely the way of the future

I went in to the office for the first time since Christmas today, and it made me much more sure about the concept of working from home. The journey in was interminable (signal failure between Finchley Road and Baker Street), so the door to door journey was just under two hours. Walking up the stairs is much quicker. Admittedly, I did have time to read 120 pages of my book and also skim read Metro, but two hours seemed excessive. Journey home was better, but still 90 minutes. And for this joy I paid the princely sum of £12. Rip off. At least I could claim back for the morning delay (and have done so already!).

I also found it oddly difficult to concentrate, not quite sure why that was. Might have been the heating - the place seemed boiling, and the dial on my radiator is broken so I couldn't turn it off. The little things that always irritated me about the office seemed magnified somehow. It's a managed office so we have to use the microwave in the kitchen, which means going up and down in the lift with whatever you've just nuked for your lunch. Luckily it was last night's Toad in the Hole, not soup. And the doors lock themselves behind you, so woe betide you if you leave your keys on your desk when you go for a pee.

Of course, there were good points as well - seeing my friend and colleague MJ was great, and I'm looking forward to a nice curry with her and an ex-colleague later in the week. She and I communicate in so many ways though (Skype, Twitter, Facebook, our blogs) that we're not in danger of losing touch if I do start working from home full time. So, I've asked my boss if I can change locations from office to home for the weeks running up to my maternity leave, and then when I get back to work in October. She and I are having breakfast next week and that's one of the topics on the agenda - will report then on what she decides!

Oh, there was one other nice bit of being in the office, and that was the coming home. Husbandio and child both seemed pleased to see me, and I even had a gift awaiting me. That Husbandio - he really doesn't like being pushed into buying these things on specific days!

It's like, culture, innit?

Since it's half-term this week, I took today off work, and have Friday off as well. Today Isabel and I went on an expedition to meet one of my best friends, who happens to be a teacher and was therefore also off work, and her two year old little boy. After lunch in Wagamama's (ginger chicken udon, yum...!) we wandered in and out of a few shops, and then went to look round St Alban's Cathedral. Call it Isabel's cultural outing for the week. We all thoroughly enjoyed it, even the kids, although they had a bit of trouble with the concepts of "don't run" and "don't talk".


Apparently (I may have known this before, but if I did I'd forgotten it), St Alban was the first Christian martyr in the UK, and was killed by the Romans in either the second or the third century (depending which historian you believe). We didn't discuss this with the kids, in case you're wondering! The cathedral itself was beautiful, and massive. Lots of it dates back to Norman times, and it has the longest nave (central section leading up to the altar) of any cathedral in England. I think the picture below adequately demonstrates the scale.


A guide showed us some cool things for kids too, such as an ancient altar tucked away at the side of the cathedral which was not ornately carved, but just a large slab with crosses in each corner, and full of fossils. My favourite thing (apart from the ceiling, I'm a sucker for high ceilings) was the Rose Window - the stained glass was gorgeous and there was nothing overtly religious about it. That's the only thing that puts me off churches and cathedrals. Usually I can just enjoy the architecture for what it is, and ignore the religious connotations.


Some of the pillars were lovely too. I don't know when these pictures were created, but the colouring left in them somehow brings to mind cave paintings rather than cathedral art.


The only thing I wasn't keen on were these rather odd fellows. There were loads of them, and they were all very strange and painted blue. Looked more Punch & Judy than cathedral, if you ask me.

Boys and their toys

As I write this, Husbandio and one of his best friends are lounging on the floor playing some kind of shoot 'em up game on the PS3. This got me musing on the appeal of games consoles. I've had my moments with computer games - as a kid, I used to play a lot of Manic Miner, Chuckie Egg and Rocket Raid either on my cousin's Commodore 64 or on my Dad's BBC Micro B, and even went through a phase of buying books of code and keying them in to create my own games. Well, OK, to recreate someone else's games. And even today I consider myself to be a bit of a geek - I have a close, even symbiotic, relationship with my laptop, and have a bit of a soft spot for a gadget. But playing with games consoles for hours has rarely attracted me.

Since Husbandio and I have been married (12 years in September, goodness me...), we've owned a lot of consoles. We bought the original Playstation amidst much excitement, and I have fond memories of staying up til 4am playing a demo version of one of the games which we thought was just amazing at the time. It was a racing game with competitors on a bike, skateboard, luge or rollerblades, and you could kick, punch or generally shove the other racers. And if you fell over, your character slid along the road, causing one or other of us to crow "oh no, scrapy face!". Good times, good times. Other games which we've enjoyed playing together have included Tomb Raider (I was the navigator, Husbandio at the controls) and Ray Man (just 'cos I think he's cute). But generally the consoles we've had in the intervening period (each successive generation of Playstation, the Xbox and Xbox 360, the Wii and various other Nintendo things whose names I now misremember) have been much more Husbandio's than mine. He's happy to sit for hours, and I mean hours, with games like this shoot 'em up or with Fifa 09. Even on Facebook he'll play games like pinball or minigolf, and I just don't get the attraction.

Having mulled on this for a while, I've concluded that there are several reasons as to why he loves these games, and I'm just not bothered.

1. He's just naturally good at them. Either that, or he's benefiting from 25 years' practice. The point is that he can pick up a game and do well at it pretty much straight away, which means I can never beat him. I actually find watching him play more fun than playing myself, since I just get annoyed that I'm not better at what I'm meant to be doing.
2. The games appeal to his competitive nature. I'm not sure whether I'm less competitive because I know I can't win, or because I genuinely don't care if I win. That's a psycho-analytical step too far even for me.
3. I only really like platform games with cute characters, or which are funny in some way.
   
4. I really can't understand the games where you have to customise a car or a character - just seems to me like the virtual equivalent of dressing up Barbie. Husbandio is, oddly, happy to spend more time with this aspect of the game than with playing it. Perhaps I'll come home one day to find him playing with Isabel's Barbies!
5. These games are a key way in which he engages with and socialises with his male friends. Whereas girls are content to just talk to each other. We are but simple creatures.

Right, end of post, and they're still busy killing things. Time for bed I think!

Reflections on Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day is one of those occasions that you either love or loathe. I've found most men aren't terribly keen, although this may be more a reflection on me than on them, come to think of it. Oh dear. Anyway, I've always thought that this loathing related to people resenting being pushed around. This has always made some kind of sense to me, but then again I also quite like the idea of reluctant romantics having to just pull their fingers out and make a bloomin' effort for once. And I don't mean reluctant romantics who are shy, I mean those who can't think what to get their wives for their birthday and buy them a Dyson or an iron.

The one thing I hate hearing about Valentine's Day is "oh, it's just invented by Hallmark to sell more cards". That annoys me for two reasons. First, it's not true. The relation of St Valentine to the concept of romantic love apparently originated with Geoffrey Chaucer and his various cohorts in the middle ages. And cards become popular in the 19th century. I don't think Hallmark was founded then, but to be fair, it seems good business practice to identify a money-making opportunity and go after it. I wish I'd been Mr Hallmark and thought of that - apparently there are now around a billion Valentine's cards sent every year - a small percentage of the revenue from that would suit me quite nicely. The second reason why that complaint annoys me is that if you're so against buying a commercial card then use your creative nous and do something else - make your own, write a romantic letter, write a poem, serenade your loved one with a song. Anything'll do! And those things are all low cost or free. Just don't use the "I hate card companies" as an excuse to be lazy.

The difficulty of course is that those whose partners ignore Valentine's day are bound to be disappointed or annoyed, even if they won't admit it. Fending off questions like "what did you get for Valentine's Day?" or "do anything nice on Valentine's Day?" just makes you feel like a bit of a schmuck. Luckily I'm not in the that boat. I ask three things of Husbandio on Valentine's day: that he remember without being reminded, that I get a card, and that some kind of chocolate product is purchased. Flowers I'm not fussed by since he's very good at buying those at other times, usually when I'm not expecting them at all, which is lovely. And he's right that any flower seller raises their price massively a couple of days before Valentine's Day and, unlike cards, creating your flowers can be tricky. This year was lovely - Isabel and I spent yesterday making cards and decorating them with glitter pens, stickers and hearts, and the required chocolate products were indeed forthcoming for all of us. An afternoon of chocolate sweats ensued, but it was worth it! So I guess that my conclusions on Valentine's Day are:

• Don't take it too seriously, or you'll eventually be disappointed
• Use it as a nice occasion to say the stuff you should probably say more often, but don't, for whatever reason (i.e. just because you're British!)
• Enjoy the chocolate that, IMO, should be an integral part of the day
  

P.S. I love you Husbandio. See, that wasn't too hard was it?

A great Friday night in

Tonight is the second of our Gavin & Stacey nights. While we were away on holiday last summer we all (me, Husbandio, little sister then aged 16, 60+ Dad and his partner) watched series 1 on DVD, and loved it. It really does span the ages - I can't think of many TV shows which could be watched and enjoyed by so wide an age range. I then got series 2 on DVD for Christmas, and we've already held one evening to watch episodes 1-3. Tonight it's episodes 4-6 and, if we're feeling very wide awake, maybe even the Christmas special as well. [UPDATE: just finished episodes 4-6, and it turns out there are 7 in the series, so that's a fab excuse for G&S night #3, covering episode 7 and the Christmas special, yay!)

I've been considering what it is about G&S which is so appealing. It's very funny, but humour can appeal to one person and be loathed by another. Here I present as evidence Will Ferrell, whom I LOATHE, while Husbandio finds him really funny. I was thrilled the other day to find his new stage show had got bad reviews, that's how much I don't like him. I don't like Jim Carrey either. I realise this makes me sound like a right miserable git. I'm not, honest. I do find G&S funny, and so does the rest of my family, but clearly that can't be the only thing. The quality of the writing is another factor, and the quality of the cast - Rob Brydon for me is particularly great. What really perplexes me is that G&S is even making me quite fond of the Welsh (although obviously not when they're playing England in the Six Nations tomorrow). I'd always quite enjoyed making jokes, friendly ones obviously, at the expense of the Welsh, so to find myself laughing along with them, and not at them, is disconcerting.

Anyway, I'm going to stop acting like someone doing an English literature degree (analysing something until they've taken all the pleasure out of it, in other words!) and go off and enjoy my takeaway Chinese and G&S night. Fingers crossed that I don't fall asleep, one of the perils of pregnancy...! [UPDATE #2 - I didn't fall asleep!]

More musical education

Finally, Isabel has moved out of the stage of only liking nursery rhymes, kids songs, and anything by Disney. And luckily she's not quite at the stage of hating everything that her parents like, so both Husbandio and I are throwing our favourite music at her in the hope that she'll come to favour one or other of us. At present it's pretty even - she very much likes Lil Devil by the Cult (his choice) but is also now very much enjoying the Beach Boys (my choice), and demanded that Help Me Rhonda be played several times in a row over breakfast today. It was a lovely sunny morning, for a change, and both of us felt quite nice and summery after a Beach Boys breakfast - until we went out the door and realised that it was only -1C. That brought us back to real life with a bit of a bump.

One problem is that, because she's such a little sponge, she'll collect dreadful songs as well as stuff we like. And when I say dreadful, I mean commonly acknowledged as not being very good e.g. The Macarena, or the Ketchup Song. But I've also caught her singing Black and Gold and Sweet About Me so she's getting into some fairly modern stuff as well, almost by accident, because they're being played on the radio or are on compilation CDs which we've bought. I need to get some Johnny Cash going next I think. We'll start with the old classics and then move forward - I'm not sure that sending her to school singing My Own Personal Jesus is going to win me any points with the teachers or the other parents!

Military precision

Husbandio and I attended our first ever school parents' consultation evening tonight which, not that I was concerned, went very well. The affair itself was choreographed to the second - each set of parents had an allocated ten minute slot, and the head teacher announced the changeover from one set of parents to another by ringing a bell. One of the other mums told me she was so aware that they had to finish when the bell rang that she stopped speaking in the middle of a sentence, got up, thanked the teacher and left!

Ten minutes doesn't feel like very long when you're talking about a subject of such central importance as your child's progress, but I suppose with 30 kids to a class it's difficult to squeeze in any more. As it was, the appointments were held over two days. One of things I'd wanted to ask was about Isabel's reading: I have no benchmark against which to judge her progress, so while it seems to me that she's doing brilliantly, I wanted to hear that from someone more qualified! I also wanted to ask if we could start taking home some reading books with actual words in them, and found out more about why the discussion books are useful (shows the kids that, when they're writing stories, there's no right or wrong way of telling it - the story can do what you want it to, and there might be more than one way of interpreting it). We've been promised reading books with words after half term provided she can read her keyword set by then - all of those keywords will be featured in the first books which gives the kids a real confidence boost, since they'll actually be able to read these books properly. How exciting! Will definitely be working on her keywords over half term. I really don't feel I'm forcing this on her though - the first thing she wanted to do when she got home at lunchtime today was to get out her new keywords and go through them. Her idea, not mine!

My only worry now is that the books she'll be getting will be distinctly uninspiring. The school uses the Oxford Reading Tree series, and I found an article today which complained about how turgid the content of these can be. If the ones with words are anything like the ones without, I'm not expecting too much. But then, how exciting can these books be when they contain such a limited set of words? I'm just looking forward to seeing how pleased with herself she will be when she reads through her first book by herself.

Sink or swim?

Today I finally got round to booking swimming lessons for Isabel. We used to do lessons when she was a baby but haven't done anything structured for more than a year now, so I'm pleased I've finally managed to book something up. It's been quite hard to do somehow - times are restricted, especially since she'll be at school full-time after half-term, and classes book up really quickly. They're also expensive, or so it seemed to me - £108 for a 12 week course. Since she could in theory do four courses in a year, the thought of the annual cost made me pause briefly. However, I then found out that children in the UK only start school swimming lessons in Year 6, which is when they're 9 or 10. The thought of her being unable to swim until that age is just scary, so I grasped the credit card more firmly and took the plunge (sorry, dreadful pun, couldn't resist).

I hope the classes aren't too advanced for her though, it would be terrible to put her off swimming at this early age. I loved swimming as a child and still do - I probably used to be in the pool at least three and sometimes five days a week until I was about 11. Then the real school work started, and my promising synchronised swimming career was cut short. Don't laugh - I could have been a contender! Not true really, but it was fun (except the pool at the Angel Islington which was so cold that I never managed to get warm, even swimming at full speed). The squad I was in did a display at the opening of a new pool once, an event I still remember clearly - it was in the days before hair gel had been invented, and we had to use gelatine to slick our hair back with. Mine took a lot of slicking.

So, in a couple of weeks' time I'll be taking her to the pool and entrusting her into the care of another. Will she sink or swim? Watch this space later in Feb...

Normal service is resumed

After a week of snow-induced disruption, I was hoping that today would be a day on which the order of my life was restored - child in school, husband in office, and all right with the world. And it went quite well at first - school was indeed open, although getting there was quite a challenge. The roads were just about OK, but the path to school was treacherous, covered in ice several inches deep. We picked our way along very gingerly.

Work went OK as well, and then it started raining. And raining. And raining. And it's still raining. At least we can't get flooded, since we live on the top of the hill. In another moment of normal service resumption, Isabel decided that today was a day on which she would pretend I was invisible - I felt like I had to say everything two or three times. By the end of the day this had driven me to distraction. Ignore a pregnant woman at your peril.

Anyway, this is going to be a short and rather whingy post, since we're recovering from the travails of the day by watching our new Tropic Thunder DVD. Child in bed, husband on the couch, DVD on the telly - that's the kind of normal service I was dreaming about.

Not another blinkin' snow post

Yup, sorry, so if you're fed up of reading about the snow then click away now.  We went over to where my Dad lives today, at the top of one of the Chiltern hills in Bucks.  And if I'd thought we'd had lots of snow, I have to say that they trumped us - even though it hasn't snowed for several days, we waded through snow which was still several inches deep.  It must have been 10 inches when it was at its deepest.

And even though I didn't think it was that cold, the pond was still frozen.

There were a few signs of spring, including, appropriately, some snow drops.

When we got home, even though we'd not even been out an hour, curling up somewhere cosy was definitely the order of the day.

I'm hungry ALL THE TIME!

I'm sure I wasn't this hungry when I was pregnant with Isabel. Sometimes I feel like I could eat a proper meal about every three hours, and this is a very dangerous feeling since I know I don't need that many calories, so I'm trying to be good and eat fruit etc. at regular intervals to quell the hunger pangs. Also, if I don't eat regularly I get heartburn, which must be a result of the baby starting to squash my internal organs into positions that they weren't really designed to be in.

I'm also going through a phase of being bored with many of the things that I regularly cook. I've become used to cooking from a shortish list of dishes, most of which can be made within half an hour of getting home. The train I usually get home from the office gets in at 6.03 pm, and we try to eat dinner together as a family at 6.30 pm - this can be quite a challenge. But since I've been working at home since Christmas I have a bit more time to get things ready, or at least make things which are still quick in terms of preparation time but need lots of cooking time, like stews.

So I think I'm going to start a new regime, which I did quite successfully a few years ago, and cook one new dish each week. I started this tonight, and made a (really quite nice!) mushroom risotto to go with a chicken dish I quite often make, and then made apple and plum crumble for pudding. If that doesn't fill me up for a few hours, nothing will! Stay tuned for next week's new dish, and to find out whether the family survives it!

Some kids' books are weird

As regular readers (does that suggest delusions of grandeur on my part?) might have noticed, I like books.  I've always liked books.  One of my favourite memories as a kid is going into the Borzoi Bookshop in Stow on the Wold - I knew that my soft-hearted father could never resist buying one or more books for himself, and that always meant books for me too.  I think I've gone the same way - we have a nice Waterstone's near us with a snuggly children's section, and I can never go in there with Isabel without each of us buying something.  I've now taken to approaching this tactically - we only go in when we need to buy a gift for someone, preferably another child, since Waterstone's always has a suitable 3 for 2 or BOGOF deal.  So it's win-win (and yet another example of me being cheap...!).

Some kids' books I just love.  Sandra Boynton is fantastic (one hippo, all alone...) and we also have a lovely book which we bought almost by accident on holiday in the US called Moonsnacks and Assorted Nuts which is equally brilliant.  I tend to like books of poems for children where I would never read a proper adult book of poetry.  With regard to the classics, I am, perhaps controversially, not fond of the Mr Men (cute pictures, but annoying language), but I do love Beatrix Potter.  Anything where the language is a pleasure to read out loud ticks the right boxes for me.  This therefore knocks Dora the bloomin' Explorer right out of the park.

We've spent a few years now enjoying books for babies, toddlers and pre-schoolers, but now that she's started school we've finally reached a stage I've been looking forward to for oh, about 20 years.  I saved lots of my favourite books from when I was a kid (Willard Price's Adventure series, What Katy Did, Fattypuffs and Thinifers, to name but a few), and we decided to start Isabel off on these longer books (which, gasp, require a bookmark instead of being readable in one sitting) with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  Can't be beat.  And we all loved it - it was great to read, she enjoyed listening to it, and we also enjoyed the movie after we'd finished the book.  In a burst of enthusiasm we decided that we'd follow up with Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator.  Mistake.  Still a pleasure to read, but just a weird story.  No wonder they never made a movie out of that one too.  Allegedly Roald Dahl didn't like the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie (what's not to like, Roald?!) and refused to sell the rights to the Great Glass Elevator.  Thank goodness for that.  It's the ramblings of a mad man - first, they go into space (!), are chased by creatures called vermicious knids which look like eggs but can transform themselves into any other shape, then when they get back they accidentally turn some of the grandparents into either babies or ghosts and subsequently age one of them by 300 years, then they all recover and get invited to the White House.   What?!  Am very glad we've finished that now!  Next, something a little less odd - I'm planning on Dick King-Smith's The Sheep Pig, which was made into the movie Babe.  All together now - "That'll do, pig!" 

The more it snows (tiddly pom)

Yup, it's another snowy post. I'd watched the weather forecast last night and thought we were meant to have a light dusting - not so. The dusting was anything but light, it may even have been heavier than Sunday night. School was cancelled, and I only knew because my neighbour phoned to tell me. The head teacher usually sends out a text, but got stuck getting to school (!) so couldn't get a message out.


Normally I love the snow, it makes me feel like a little kid. But this time it just made me grumpy because I didn't want to be disrupted yet again. Husbandio went to work (walked bravely down the massive hill to the station, past all of the stranded cars) while I was on childcare duty, and I just wasn't mentally ready. My head was all wrapped up with work, which made for a bit of a grumpy morning. We did some nice paintings though, which was fun. Slightly worrying that it's hard to tell which is mine and which is hers (other than us signing them of course!).


Luckily, in the afternoon Isabel went round to the neighbours for two hours so I managed to do some work, and Husbandio came back earlier than usual enabling me to do one more hour, so I did most of what I needed to today. I've never been good at changing plans at the last minute, and today just brought out the worst in me!

But now it's the end of the day, and I'm feeling more Winne the Pooh-ish about the whole thing, thanks largely to this gem of a poem:
The more it snows (tiddly pom)
The more it goes (tiddly pom)
The more it goes (tiddly pom)
On snowing (tiddly pom).

Thanks Pooh, for putting things in perspective.

Getting excited about the saddest things

Today, the thing which really made my day was realising that I could add my Twitter feed directly onto the main page of this blog (see, there it is, on the right hand side!). And even as I was getting excited, and patting myself on the back for being such a technical genius, I realised that I was at the same time being immensely sad. After all, it was not really a work of technical genius - all I did was to spot a button on Twitter saying "add to blog" and I clicked it, followed some simple instructions, and hey presto, Bob's your uncle. Or grandfather in my case, but let's not split hairs.

My reaction did reveal a lot about my hidden geek. But it was my reaction to the hidden geek that made me chuckle - I embraced her, and have, with this post, effectively outed her. That doesn't make her a lesbian hidden geek by the way. As I get older I've realised that I am sad about a lot of things - I'm a (now outed) geek, I tend to cry when sporting trophies or medals are awarded (the 2004 Olympics just after Isabel was born was a mass of hormones and tears in our house!), I almost always fall asleep in movies, and I have terrible taste in music. Or so Husbandio claims. And he'd know - he's a music snob, and doubtless has great taste, but we don't always coincide musically, to say the least.

However (and this deserves capital letters) I DON'T CARE. I don't care if people see me sniffling over Venus Williams winning Wimbledon. I don't care if guests see me snoring away in front of the telly. I don't care if people know that I sing along loudly to songs by REO Speedwagon, Mister Mister and Cutting Crew. I've never been trendy, I'll never be trendy, and I DON'T CARE. In fact, I like it. I'm now preparing to be one of those parents who dances wildly at school disco causing maximum embarrassment to her children. I may even be ready for old age - not caring what people think is definitely a requirement in order to draw a pension. Bring it on!

She can read!!!

This has been a red letter day - after four weeks of school, Isabel is reading! Whole words, and even sentences! I could barely contain my excitement. She's still bringing home the silly books with no words (I shall request that this is the last one!) but today also brought home a set of words attached to a treasury tag. The idea is to take them off, read each one, and then arrange them as different sentences, and she thought it was great fun. She read all of them straight off except "see", which is tricky when you're spelling it out phonetically, but she soon got the hang of it, and we played around with them for a good 10 minutes.


I'm thrilled for her, partly because reading is such a love of mine and it's fantastic to see her enjoying it as well. And partly because there seems to be so much talk of dyslexia nowadays that it's nice to see her picking up the words so quickly and not displaying, at least as far as I can see, any signs that reading might be a challenge for her. Part of me, though, feels a bit sad - I love the idea of her reading to herself, but reading has been a big part of the bonding experience between the two of us, so I'm keen to make sure that we carry on having a lot of reading time together. I realise I'm worrying about this a little bit early, but that's just part of my nature, I like to get the worrying started in plenty of time!

Only possible topic for today is the snow!

I can't imagine that there are many UK bloggers today who won't mention the snow - I'm certainly not going to buck that trend as it very much dominated our day. We'd seen the weather forecast on Sunday night so the snow was not unexpected, but nonetheless a treat to wake up to this morning. It was slightly annoying however to have to get up at the usual time for work, get showered and wake everyone else up, and then find we couldn't go anywhere. Trains and tubes from our neck of the woods were all cancelled, even if we could have got to the station. And that wasn't guaranteed - we live on the top of a large hill, and our neighbour, who did brave it, managed to get down the hill, gave up while trying to go round the roundabout at the bottom, and then had to abandon her car half way up the hill on the way home. And the school was closed of course - they sent out a text message at about 7.30am which was a really good idea.

So, after a breakfast of homemade blueberry pancakes (yum!), we bundled up, and headed out to do all the traditional snowy things.

We made a snowman (he turned out a bit like a Dalek, but was quite fun) while some amongst us got rather over excited about the possibilities offered by snowball-throwing (hitting a pregnant woman with a snowball is not that hard - I'm a big target at the moment - but hitting me on the head was a bit harsh I thought!).

Isabel played with the neighbours' children, sliding around on sleds and making snow angels.

We didn't go out again in the afternoon because it was so cosy once we'd come back in for tomato soup and crusty bread (it was a real comfort food kind of a day!) - I did some work, but did venture out to rescue the gear we'd left outside, and spotted where some birds had played a game of chase under a tree.

The only thing that's annoyed me about the snow is the fuss that's made when the country has to effectively shut down for the day. This is the worst snow for 18 years, so it clearly is a rare occurrence. What's the point in making a major investment in being able to deal with snowfall like this when it happens so rarely? I guarantee that Brits would complain either way - if we had invested, there would be complaints that we'd wasted the money if there was no snow. And since we haven't invested and have to shut down for the day when there is snow, there are complaints that we should have invested. I reckon that, since the first Monday in February is meant to be the biggest sickie day of the year anyway (due to depression when people realise that Christmas is long gone and the summer is still miles away), we should just be glad that it coincided with the snow day. Seems like quite fortuitous timing, if you ask me!

Eating weird stuff

I've just seen Jeremy Clarkson on Best of Top Gear travelling across Japan and eating tiny crabs, whole, shell and all. And washing this all down with curry flavoured lemonade. And rather than thinking "yuk", I thought "I want to try that!". I've got to the stage where I love trying new foods but, thanks to (a) having a small child and (b) trying to save money prior to going on maternity leave, we aren't going out for dinner very often so I don't get to try new food as much as I'd like. When we did go out for a nice meal recently we tried smoked eel (at La Chouette near Aylesbury, lovely place with lots of character!)

The last new thing I ate was goose, which was delicious. I can't imagine why I've never had it before - probably opportunity rather than anything else. I had it at Hibiscus, a very swanky London restaurant where we had our company Christmas lunch. The whole meal was lovely, and it got better as each course arrived. I hate having a marvellous starter and then feeling underwhelmed for the rest of the meal. I had scallops to start (but the ones we had in Nova Scotia this summer, wrapped in bacon and BBQ'd, were better), then the goose, and then the christmas pudding, which was an amazing interpretation of a traditional christmas pud with what tasted like mince pie ice cream.

When our office was in Farringdon, a restaurant opened in nearby Exmouth Market called something like Eat, or Alive, or something along those lines. It was one of those novelty places that served dishes like cobra curry and ant mashed potato, and I really meant to go, but before I could get my act together it closed. Gutted. Looks like no-one else got their acts together either.

The only times I've eaten anything really unusual is when we've been on holiday. In Florida we had gator bites (alligator tastes like gristly chicken, not very impressed). In Kenya, we went to a restaurant in Nairobi called Carnivore (hint - if you're a vegetarian, don't bother going...). It's a Masai BBQ restaurant serving local delicacies including, I kid you not, giraffe, antelope, zebra and other things I'd never even heard of such as hartebeest. Like a wildebeest apparently, and DELICIOUS - like the best lamb ever. I feel kind of guilty for eating giraffe, I must admit, especially since Isabel's favourite soft toy is a giraffe called Gerald, but it sure was an experience.

Next aim is going to The Fat Duck - husband made valiant efforts to book a table but it's not an easy thing. We need a proper strategy in order to get in. And I refuse to go while pregnant - not letting anything prevent me from trying anything!