new year, big year

It's 4 January today, already day four of this new year that already seems to be passing so quickly.  We spent New Year's Eve with my husband's siblings, their partners and children at the Gold Coast.  It was a lovely evening - to a point.  Good food and wine and family... I realised how much I value the relationships with my husband's many siblings and their partners (he's one of six), how nice it is to hang out with these good people, especially as I am so far away from my own.  I also realised with that as time passes, and we become less a part of our parents' families and more our own, that these relationships are to an extent unlikely to become any stronger and if anything, these passing days will see us spending less time together rather than more.  I won't lie, and I say it respectfully, with some members of the family, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

One of the very nice things Will and I realised as we were driving home from a busy, energy charged and kid-led couple of days (think bomb diving, golf-buggies, scooters, bikes) is how similar the parenting styles of nearly all the parents in the family are.  Importance is placed on stories, minimal tv, wholesome meals with a few treats thrown in, lots of time outdoors and lots of time focussing on the children whilst trying to lead by example with good manners and positive communication.  Everyone operates at varying levels, you know, some care more about the food they give their children than others, some are freer with the tv remote etc, but on the whole it was great to be amongst like minded people with children that are almost without exception well behaved, sweet natured, well mannered and up for some fun.  It sure makes looking after the kids smoother and I think the kids like it too.  Lots of people to hang out with and do the things they love.

Last night, as we were tucking into the Christmas ham that I only glazed yesterday (and enjoying it with modified versions of this coleslaw and home made beetroot and ginger relish more than any other meal this holiday), we talked about the last week or two and where we think our future is headed.  I had mentioned in passing to Will that one of the things I took away from this break was how simple our life seems to be and how I like it that way.  I crave spending quality time with each other and our children and for me, and apart from living closer to my own family, it's all I really want in life.  The opulence of the time we spent at the Coast, the excessive food, the drink, the golf buggies and ensuite bathrooms were all good fun, but I was so happy to get back to our little home, to water our tomato plants and then to put the children to sleep in their rooms before having an early night's sleep on our slightly lumpy mattress and familiar sheets.  Back to the budget, back to dvds we've watched countless times before, back to the dust on my bedside table, back to wishing we could afford some help around the house but realising that doing the chores and housework amongst the childrearing and togetherness actually makes me feel good.  Don't get me wrong, I'd hire someone to dust that bedside table tomorrow if we could afford it, but we can't.  And even if we could, I am certain I'd still feel as though there's not enough time and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be happier.  A little less tired maybe, but no happier.

So, we said goodbye to 2012 and at midnight, Will and I were together with our sons.  I kissed their foreheads as they slept and thanked them for the best year of my life.  It was a phenomenal year, truly, with our new baby, a stripey party, a robot cake, the perfection of a tiramisu recipe... my dear little boys became a year older and their ever evolving personalities wowed us, their naive parents, who, just like this time last year wonder what this year will have in store.  What stories we will share as we fall asleep each night, talking about what Ollie said, what Max did, how Hugo is the most darling little creature we have ever set eyes on...

I do know this:  2013 will be a big year.  In July, it will be 10 years since I arrived in Australia to be with the man I longed to spend the rest of my life with (so far so good).  This year, we will spend our first full year as a complete family of five and we will make some significant decisions about where we want to spend the rest of our lives, or at least the foreseeable future.  I know these aren't easy decisions to make and I'm terrified of making the wrong ones - we've never been good at deciding anything, but I have come to realise there aren't really wrong decisions, are there?  Every decision leads you somewhere and provides an experience (like the other day when we decided to take the kids on the train to the video store on the hottest day of my life, what the hell were we thinking?).  And if it's the wrong experience, well now you know it and making the next decision should be easier.  Shouldn't it?  Of course!  (We aren't ever going to go out in the summer sun when the kids haven't had a lunchtime nap, ever again!)

It's not the decision making I'm scared of, it's the consequence, especially now there are little people we are responsible for.  I'm frightened of change (and lack of shade on Queensland summer's day), scared that the grass isn't as green as I think it is, and now we have our kids to think about and a little patch of green lawn is as important as ever.  But without actually stepping over the fence I'll never know what's there, will I?  There could be no grass at all... but there could be parks and vales and hillsides and forests and mountains... and if there's not?  I can come back to this lawn.  Or find another one.  Or accept that I might never find the right shade of green but I'll keep trying before having the revelations that the years are passing, passing quicker than ever before and the best thing I can do is to find some grass, any grass, lay down our lumpy mattress and let my kids loose with their watering cans and watch them make the grass green for us all.  Yes.

Happy New Year.

the year in review

I went back to work after giving birth to my littlest boy and to my surprise, loved it, I joined a gym and kept it up, we had visitors from England, we broke a fridge, we bought a new camera and took a million photographs, we edited our photos and backed them up responsibly, we realised we need a holiday but didn't have the time to take one, we escaped the floods but friends weren't so lucky, I baked a cheesecake and made a pavlova, both for the first time, we lost a baby and cried and cried, we learned our son is crazy for puzzles and our other son is a cheeky little devil with a naughty streak that is adorable, we watched movies, so many movies, I watched my husband become an actual architect, I used my KitchenAid way more than I thought I would, I Skyped my parents every week, sometimes twice, I missed them terribly, we didn't always try a new recipe every week but we always ate good food, I loved watching the royal wedding, missed England and her countryside, visited the GoMA at least twice, we still haven't managed to get out to dinner but we had an awesome party for Will's birthday, we decorated our garden with 800 fairy lights, we said goodbye to Sue, but hello to Emma and Clasein, I had the most awesome birthday week EVER and ate at my favourite restaurant with my favourite person, we visited a zoo, our house was a zoo, I discovered patience, then lost it again, I became a little more like my mum, we ate McDonalds for the first time in years and regretted it, I got to know my sister as my friend and lamented the years we spent apart but realised it's better late than never, our boys' birthday parties were awesome and it didn't rain, we didn't send Christmas cards this year, but I've been good at keeping in touch with those I love, we became really good at doing the kids' packed lunches in about 10 minutes, and kept on top of keeping house, I worried about how I'm doing at work but found out they think I'm ok, I playdoughed, painted, tidied, read to my sons, our boys started sharing a room together, we only broke a few baubles this year, I wished I had read more books and had more haircuts, we had Christmas at our house with my friend Kate, I learned the names of lots of vehicles, we repaired our lawn and now our garden looks fabulous, I got cross with my boys more often than I would have liked but always ended the day with kiss and a cuddle, I started and ended the year very tired.  But so happy.

Come on 2012.   I know you are going to be great.

together

Last weekend, we made the bold step of asking our boys to share a room for the first time in their little lives.  Both boys have always had their own rooms, right from the very first day we brought them home from the hospital, their only experiences of sharing have been limited to the three and then four of us crammed into a little room at Straddie or similar.  Not always successful and not always (if ever) enjoyable.

But, with the arrival of a dear friend who's staying for almost four weeks imminent, we thought it was an opportune time to take a step we've been talking about taking for some time.

So far (four nights in) so good.  Their little room which is little more than 3mx3m is a bit crammed full of their beds, toys, clothes and books but it's definitely cute and cosy (not so appealing when it's 29c at 6am) and it's freed up a whole room that Max did little more than sleep in.  They have always played together in Ollie's room and all the toys have lived in there, we really only had to work out how to cram Max's cot and his change table in there.  They have been going to bed reasonably well, although we still put Max down first while Ollie reads on his own for a bit and then gets another story or two or three before he tip-toes into Max's room and clambers into bed before very quietly stalling for the usual 45 minutes or so, asking for more water, to go to the toilet, for another Tigger, another hug...

And so, we now have space for Kate who arrives this weekend.  It's a mess right now but every evening this week we are embarking on 'Project Arrival' which involves moving furniture, setting up a bed (if we can find all the bits) and making things pretty so by Saturday, we should have a comfortable room for Kate and some semblance of calm.

I'm so excited but nervous too.  It's been a long time since we've played host to anyone, I don't think we have since mum visited 20 months ago, just after Max was born.  She stayed for three weeks and we were so preoccupied with looking after the boys and getting to know Max, it was a bit of a blur.  Kate's staying for almost 4 weeks, which is longer than anyone has stayed with us and I'm a little worried about the chaos that she will be contending with when she's here and how well we will be able to make her stay memorable and for the right reasons.  We've known each other for 17 years, but in that time, my life has changed dramatically, and it's been some time since we've spent more than a fleeting evening together, let alone four weeks.  Sometimes I think I can't really remember what's it's like to be myself, the person I was before I became a mum and my life became a list of endless tasks and chores.  What will I say and do when she is here?

But more than anything, I'm excited.  I'm excited that she will be here to make Christmas with us, help us adorn the tree, cook delicious food, share hot, humid summer evenings together on our back deck, talking about where we are in life, her incredible experiences seeing this world, and the trivialities of life.  She'll be here when we celebrate Will's birthday (weather permitting with an afternoon of drinks, fairy lights and music in our back garden) and she'll be here on Christmas morning when Ollie is going bananas over presents and Santa.  She'll be here when he's throwing tantrums, she'll be here when we are too exhausted to do anything after the kids are in bed but sit very still, she'll be here when we are folding piles and piles of laundry and she'll be here when I am thinking about her.  She won't be 10,000 miles away, or asleep when I'm awake, or working when I'm dreaming.

She'll be right here, in our home.  And we'll be together.

the men in my life

When I went to university at the age of 18, it was my first experience of living away from home and doing what I wanted to whenever I wanted to do it.  I went to a girls' school (two, actually) and I made some of my dearest friends there (sure I lost touch with some of them but thanks to facebook, these wonderful people are back in my life and it seems nobody knows me better).  But when I left home, naive, inexperienced, fresh faced and solitary, my world opened up.

The highlight of that time... well, there are many.  I didn't know how to cook - years of being told to go and study rather than hang out in the kitchen with my mum didn't seem like such a great thing when I was suddenly alone and devoid of any kitchen skills.  That said, I learned quickly, and now I love to cook (because I love to eat) and I became exposed to food I didn't even know existed.  Then there was discovering freedom and all the things that come with it.  The music (oh, the music), the parties, video games, the drugs, the financial irresponsibility (which thankfully is now financial responsibility), self discipline (that one comes and goes) and boys.

As someone who'd always been surrounded by girls (not only did I go to all girls' schools, but I also have two younger sisters), it was quite the thing to now be in this liberal place where everyone was the same and everyone treated everyone else with this cool, educated respect, and we were free to be and be with whoever we wanted.  It was a first for me to have platonic, respectful relationships with boys, and also romantic ones too.  I suddenly felt like I was being myself for the first time in my life, free of the expectations of my parents, and the rules that had surrounded my childhood.

I had been brought up to believe that relationships with boys were trouble and nothing else, that it wasn't possible to have a connection with a man other than my father or my future husband, that I would marry a man chosen by my parents and until that day, looking pretty, wearing make up, saying and doing what I wanted were not allowed, not possible.  Except everything I was now experiencing was the exact opposite of that.  I met guys who were into the same music, the same books, the same sense of humour as me and they weren't interested in having sex with me!  At least, I never knew it if they did.  These guys (and some gals too) became my best friends and I went from my first living experience at uni of an all girls on-campus flat to a shared house with three other boys and a girl who was never really around much.  It was then that I started to realise I was way better with boys than I am with girls.  

I met Troy, my dear friend Troy, the geezer that could drink anyone under the table and treated every event as an opportunity to enjoy himself.  Today he has boys of his own and he is someone I want my own boys to meet and look up to.  His friend Kris, the 7' giant with whom I shared a North London flat for many years.  There was Paul, the guy I was in a relationship with for almost seven years - maybe I'll write about that one day - for the most part, it was a happy time of my life, discovering what I wanted out of a relationship, and it was also a sad time of my life, discovering what I wanted wasn't going to be with him.  But through him, I met Ben, who is as dear a friend as anyone could have.  He too has boys of his own now too, shares his music with me, provides an ear when times are hard and has an imagination and ability with words that nobody else has.  His brother Toby, the geek with the video games, who was always up for a game of something and is one of the smartest boffins I know.  Seamus, the guy I was always a little wary of, didn't really know what to think of him until years into our friendship, when I realised he was a kindred spirit.  There was Neil, my funny French/Scot accountancy lecture companion who provided the inspiration to work hard and do my best and I am certain I owe a big part of where I am in my career today to him.  And Steve, who played the guitar, who liked the same music, who looked after me when I'd had a pint too many, and who made the best fried egg sandwiches.  I could go on.

There were girls too, and they too were and still are hugely influential in their own ways and I don't want to understate how important these friendships are, but it's the relationships with the boys that seem to stay with me.  With the exception of Paul (and I tried), I am still in touch with all of them to varying degrees, and it's been quite amazing seeing them go from university students, to ambitious, driven men, or fathers, or husbands, or older versions of their youthful selves or all of those things.  The experience of knowing them and seeing them become the men they are provides me with such a sense of optimism.

Since then, the trend has continued.  At work I have forged some of the best relationships with men, men who are smart, funny and loyal.  And then, of course, somehow, I got lucky and met the amazing man I was to marry, the man who somehow encompasses all the wonderful things about the other men in my life and more.  And after almost ten years together, we now have little men of our own.  Little men, who have so much to teach me about themselves, their aspirations, and little men that I hope one day will meet the big men in my life, the men that have shaped their mother and her idea of what a good man is.  And perhaps, if I am lucky, they will take note, and see what I see and become good men themselves.

dad

Today was fathers' day here in Australia.  It's not fathers' day in England, that happens in June I think, so I have to remember two fathers' days, the one for my dad in the UK and the one for the father of my little boys.  I suppose I should write about Will today, after all we celebrated fathers' day with him, but I think instead I'll write about my dad.

Daddy. 

Born in 1953 in Sohal Khurd, India.  Moved to England with his parents and four younger brothers in 1963, at the height of those times in the UK when people were starting to learn about other cultures, and those times when racism and ignorance over how an immigrant population could enrich a country was rife.   But my dad and his brothers and their dad and their mum started a new life in England, making sacrifices and leaving their immediate families behind in India in order to provide their children and grandchildren with a better life - although that better life would be a long time coming.

He learned English, wore a turban, learned how to play the guitar, but not without being challenged by his strict but loving father who couldn't accept that his son might want to listen to western music, let alone pick up a guitar and worship his hero, Jimi Hendrix.  I expect this challenge was the start of my dad's open mindedness to let his own daughters discover their way in life, albeit with his guidance. 

He finished his education and became a draftsman, putting to good use his eye for detail and accuracy. I will always remember the tour we took of his office when I can only have been about 4 years old, shortly before he was made redundant and started his own business, a humble hardware store, that grew into a wood workshop, where he worked with his father in the family trade of carpentry.  As long as I have known him, he has worked hard, be it for our education, or to pay the mortgage, or because that's all he knows.

He married my mum in 1974 having only seen a photograph of her because that was the will of his parents.  He set the example he thought it ought to for his four younger brothers, and I'm not sure he ever did it because he wanted to.  37 years later they are still married and not always the picture of happiness you would want to see in your parents, but they look outwards together and regardless of their differences, they are unified in their love for each other, their children and their grandchildren and set an example for us all.

He renovated the house I grew up in, taking it from a ramshackle terraced house to the best house on our street, even better perhaps because it was next door to my granny and grandad.  He built his own workshop from the dirt in the ground. He smells like sawdust and sometimes like oil and always like hard work.

He has worked hard all his life and sometimes in the face of real adversity and always because he wanted to provide the very best for his family.  He can do a million things. I knows what every tool in the toolbox is for and he can fix almost anything.  I wish he would slow down and think about retiring soon. 

He is a dad that expects you to work hard and do your best.  He expected nothing less than straight As from us at school which I would worry and worry about when my school report showed anything but (which was often).  But that he instilled a sense of commitment and hard work in all his daughters can only be a good thing.  Without his unfailing push to make us realise how lucky we are to have had an education, I can't imagine how my life would be now. 

He used to take me to the library every Thursday and would read Dickens to me.  I used to think it was boring but loved it anyway, my dad reading to me.  He taught me to respect books, learning, reading.  It's probably why I love reading to my own children and definitely why I want my children to work hard and be interested in their education.

He worries.  I am sure he worries about more than I know, but in writing this I realise there is so much I don't know about my own dad.

He doesn't always believe he has been successful, but I suppose that depends on what your measure of success is.  Because it's not money, it's not the car you drive or the shoes you wear although he has always taken pride in wearing smart shoes.  Surely it is the love you give and receive.  And if that is the case, he is the most successful man I know.  My dad.

grandpa

Before Ollie was born, before we had decided on a first name, we knew his middle name would be James, after his grandfather, Will's dad who died the year after I arrived in Australia.  I didn't know him long but he was one of the kindest people I've ever met.  I never knew him to do or say a thing that was anything but good.

He was this sort of joining force for a family already close to one another - hard to explain but since he's been gone (7 years ago today), the family has lacked the cohesion that used to be, at least that's how it seems.  Will's dad was the story teller, the speech giver, the chef, the guy who knew all the answers to Trivial Pursuit, the guy who knew about wine, art, science, geography, history... and the one that everyone in the family looked up to.  Including me.  He had an amazing life, one which I know very little about really, which is a shame because it would be a story I would like to be able to tell my children.  He was proud of all his six children, but I always got he sense that he had an extra portion of pride and joy for Will, his youngest son.  I know he would have been the happiest of us all to see him graduate and become a husband and father.

The boys call their grandmother ma-ji and would I guess, call their grandfather baba-ji, just as I did my own grandfather.  I often wonder what he'd think of them, and what they'd think of him.  I think he would have been an awesome grandfather, and I think our children would have loved him.  And because of that, we miss him.

michael brady

There is someone I know, or rather used to know, that I think about often.  We spent many a weekend together when I was at university and then when I moved to London.  He looked a bit like Leo Sayer and Alan Titchmarsh combined (and still does, as far as I can tell) and Colin Firth would probably play him in the story of his life.  We shared wine and food and cookies and ashtrays and a sense of humour, we played backgammon (I remember winning a lot) and I loved his oddball company, posh accent, and his curly hair.  His house was always freezing cold and I remember trying to warm a bottle of red wine on a lukewarm radiator in his Luton living room before drinking it anyway whilst sitting under a duvet.  He was there when I saw my first and only solar eclipse and we saw the dawn of this millennium together at his home in Cornwall.  In his own true style he put on quite the spread... and he wore a suit!

He liked to cook and whenever he came to visit he would bring cake.  I have been badgering him for a recipe for his Queen of Sheba chocolate cake for longer than is right (I did have it but I can't find it anywhere and I'm certain he's punishing me for losing it).  But one recipe (or receipt as he likes to call it) that I have is the one for his Luscious Lemon Cake - a better description doesn't exist.  I made it yesterday, and tweaked it slightly, but it was a good tweak (legal too, not like the additions we used to make to our cookies) and it was one he would approve of.

Over the years we have lost touch, although he's still around in cyberspace and of course it's not the same.  The memories of him and that part of my life are locked away in that museum of me, and in some ways that's where they belong, but I would love to share my life as it is today with him.  I still want that recipe and maybe if he's reading this, he might send it to me, although knowing him, he'll continue to keep it from me, because he'd think that would be funny.

Happy birthday Michael Brady.

floods and people

The rain.  All that rain brought chaos and carnage to Brisbane.  I can't really begin to summarise what the last few days felt like, it's all been rather surreal and, I suppose, ironic that after so many years of drought, Queensland is now flood ravaged.

If we had been a metre lower, or I should say if the river had peaked the way they had originally predicted, we would probably be waiting for power to be reconnected and cleaning up what would feel like an impossible mess.  Instead, we saw the water peak to only 60m from our house, which is apparently where the river peaked in the famous 1974 floods.  As we became an island, we saw our neighbours' houses completely submerged, roads turned into lakes and landmarks and favourite spots drowned but we have remained safe and dry, albeit without power.

On Tuesday when we heard that the CBD was being evacuated, I went out and stocked up as best I could for the coming days, not really knowing what we would need and whether we would be prepared.  We brought the barbecue upstairs, got ice for the esky, cooked up lentils and made sure we had enough of everything to last a week or so.  I washed clothes, moved things from under our (thankfully) raised house up onto our deck so that if the worst happened and the water made it as far as our house, at least we might have minimised the damage.  We debated leaving, and I packed a bag for the kids so that we could do it easily if we needed to, but in the end we stayed and it was the right decision for us, thanks to Will's persistent referral of the town's flood maps and the Council's predictions.  And, his analysis was right - we stayed dry, and for that, I am thankful, as watching and helping those who have not been so lucky has highlighted just how massive a clean up job lies ahead.  Our suburb, one of the worst affected now resembles a favela, debris and mud everywhere, and the army is manning our street, trying to control traffic and assist with the clean up.

Max and Ollie.  Almost oblivious to the chaos.  I have to say, that on reflection, Ollie was most accepting of the fact that he was unable to sleep with the hall light on or listen to his Pooh Bear and Jungle Book cds because there was 'no power, power's gone', and he doesn't watch much tv so I don't think he even noticed that it wasn't working.  I think Ollie liked seeing the water in the streets and his new look neighbourhood (we were waterfront for a day or so there).  Max enjoyed the novelty of having both parents home and doting on his smiley little being and it was a good thing that they both ate what they were given and enjoyed our makeshift cooking and refrigeration methods.  Ollie loves playing with eskies.  Funny kid.

I wonder whether in 20 years' time we will be those people that talk about the 2011 floods the way people talk about the 1974 floods.  I doubt it.  In all honesty, apart from having to be inventive with the barbecue and doing everything by candlelight (it's not as romantic as you would think), for us it has been a pretty boring few days and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.  Boring is good.  Boring is safe.  We may not have any stories to tell our friends and family but that's a good thing.  My overarching feeling is one of gratitude and well, good fortune to have had so much kindness around us.  We really have felt the love with every single phone call, text message, email and facebook message.  Not to mention the offers of a home away from home which came from all manner of places.  I can't wait for it to happen, but it's going to take a long to time get back to normal in this city we call home, and I guess that will be a story in itself, but for the mean time, it's a blessing we have such love around us.  People are good.

party time!

We've just finished a weekend of birthday partying.  The threat of bad weather remained just that, and we had beautiful clear, blue, sunny skies.  We held the party indoors anyway (the forecast was for showers and a thunderstorm) and our little house didn't feel so little once we'd moved the furniture around, put up my bunting and opened up the doors and windows.

The house looked so colourful and the we made just the right amount of food, cake and party bags (paper lunch bags, tied with string and filled with home made cookies, a Matchbox car and stickers) and every toy was scattered around the house with little people's sticky fingers on and in everything.  The food was delicious and home made (cookies, birthday cake, sandwiches, fruit, corn chips, avocado dip and salsa, obligatory chocolate rice crispies) and everyone seemed to have a lot of fun, kids and grown-ups alike.  It was just how a party should be.

And Ollie?  He had a blast.  He was a little over excited when the first guests arrived and a bit miffed with his favourite truck being so popular with his cousins, but he soon settled down and handled everyone playing with his toys and taking over his territory remarkably well, especially since he decided not to have a nap before his guests arrived (yikes!).  Ollie even seemed to love the chorus of 'Happy Birthday' and was pretty happy with his birthday cake, not to mention the cookies he managed to consume.  There were a few moments in the afternoon when I caught him sitting quietly, playing with his cars, noise and activity around him, in his own, happy little world.  Max was a good little guy, too.  He's had a couple of unsettled days (teeth?) but seemed to take the 30 or so mainly new people in his house in his stride (although the balloons did make him cry).  His kind eyes and sweet, calm temperament were a predictable hit with everyone.  

After the boys were bathed and in bed, Will and I ended the day with a quick tidy up and a well earned early night, and thankfully our boys let us sleep until the morning.  And today, we spent the day slowly opening each of the very thoughtful and generous gifts from Ollie's friends and family.  My feet still ache and I'm knackered from the build up to the big day, but it was all worth it.

happy diwali

A wish for light, love and peace.

thank you

It took until Max was 9 weeks old but with the help and patience of my dear husband, who nearly had a meltdown trying to use our printer, I finally got round to making and sending thank you notes to friends and family that were so kind to us when Max arrived.  I love to make cards; it's so personal and I know that if I were to buy them, there'd be something or another that I wouldn't like about them so I'd rather spend the time doing it myself.  (I'd like to think I save a few pennies too.)

Anyway, it may have taken a while but the main thing is that we've now sent out our heartfelt love and thanks and in doing so, I took a moment to think about each and every friend that our sons are lucky to have in their lives.

my mum

A few weeks ago we were chatting to my parents and my mum announced that she was coming to visit us.  We didn't quite believe her until she said she'd booked her flights and was braving the 30 hour trip from the UK to Australia.  Now, my mum's not the best traveller; she worries about the long, uncomfortable flights, about dealing with customs and immigration, about feeling jetlagged... all completely understandable, but I've been trying to convince her that spending time in the sun with her grandsons should more than compensate her for the long and difficult trip.  It's taken almost seven years, but our nagging seems to have paid off and in the early hours of last Friday morning, and after lots of uncertainty over whether she would actually arrive (thanks Eyiafiallajokull), my mum arrived for a three week stay.

And it's lovely having her here.  Not just because there's an extra pair of hands to help with the boys, not because she's taken over our kitchen to make us the most delicious meals, not because she's fun to hang out with.  But just because she's my mum.

katechaddertonphotography.com

I am fortunate to have friends around me that are creative, talented and motivated.  Kate Chadderton is all of those things and has, since I met her over 16 years ago, been not only a true soulmate but also a role model, inspiring and encouraging me to explore my own creative side.

Kate is a gifted creator and photographer and has recently launched her own website.  It's a beautiful collection of some of her images and represents only a fraction of her work.  I especially love her landscape photography, which captures colour and composition perfectly.

(Images by Kate Chadderton via www.katechaddertonphotography.com)

thought for the day

Time

Time is certainly a great healer.
I grazed my knee when I was six
And now it's fine.

By Oliver Minkley

oh boy!

A dear friend Brooke, who recently became mama to twin boys, has found time to start her own blog. It promises to be all that Brooke is herself... tasteful, inspiring and beautiful. I'm looking forward to following her news and being inspired by her great taste in all that is (in her own words) "crafty, pretty and tasty".