The Channel Crossing Part 1

Arrived in Gosport on Sunday early evening full of optimism and high hopes for a pleasant crossing on Monday. Marc and I had decided that it was a great idea to take the children across the English channel to France on a sail boat. We invited two friends, Kerry and Eddie, to be crew. We hired a 38' Barvaria boat and carefully packed and planned. Marc got all of his required certifications in order. We were rearing to go.

Kerry and Eddie arrvied an hour or so after us and after getting the boat sorted we took the ferry over to Southampton and enjoyed a gorgeous dinner al fresco in some of the best summer weather we've had all year. My optimism swelled. This was going to be soooo much fun.

Sleep was hard to come by overnight as I was frightened we wouldn't wake up for the required silly early departure time. At 4:30 am I viewed Venus shining brightly in as the rising sun changed the colour of the sky to pale oranges, yellows and finally read marvelling at other people exhibiting equally poor judgement at this insane hour. I could see the weariness in their eyes and maybe for the first time thought this might not be such a good idea. Something about red sky in the morning = shepard's warning. Trying desperately not to panic or wake the rest of the boat I got the coffee on and prepared for a small, quick breakfast. Finally everyone one else stirred at 5:30 am and bang on 6:00 am we set off in a dead calm.

The first few hours the sea was like a mill pond. It was hard to believe that we weren't just on a small lake. No wind, no waves, no swell, and a strong tide in the opposite direction meant we were going nowhere fast. We motored for quite a bit although not nearly as long as we should have. Seb was desperate to sail so we prayed for wind. The power of our prayers for a bit more wind came in all at once. And then the seas roughened. The wind was right on our nose so we had the sails tight in and the boat was tipped right over so much that a simple cup of tea became an impossibility.

Abigail was the first sailor to feel the effects of the bopping and swaying. Kerry held her over the side right up until the point that Kerry started hurling over the side. This pattern continued for the remainder of the 15 hour epic journey. Thank goodness no one wanted to eat because we quite simply couldn't have made anything. Any more than 1 minute under deck and the tummy started doing somersaults. Sebastian only had one spectacular event hurling over the side.

But undoubtably the 1st pplace gold medal prize goes to Abigail who never whined, never cried, never moaned, never complained. She sat on deck in the spray, the wind, the cold and just hung on. Sebastian comes in at a close second by fortuitously lifting everyone's spirits at the very end of the journey when we all were disheatened and thoroughly fed up he started singing, telling jokes and stories, and pretending to surf. He helped to keep Abigail warm by cuddling up with her.

Abigial announced that she could hardly wait to get to France so she could have a croissant. We must have laughed for 30 minutes. Here this wee little angel was wet, cold, miserable with sick in her hair and all she wanted was a croissant. Bless her!

We finally entered the harbour and moored at the marina. I have never been happier. Abigail and I went for a hot hot hot shower whilst the boys prepared some soup and bagels.

It could have been so much worse. It could have been raining. It could have been colder. The wind could have been stronger. The waves could have been bigger. The children coul dhave been crying and freezing. And althought it was the worst sea conditions I've ever sailed in, I am so proud of my children and us as a family. This was an adventure of a lifetime. And it's only just begun!

An Indian Princess

Uncle Matthew brought this beautiful sari back from India for Abigail.

Swimming Gala

Ballet Performances

The end of the school year brings yet another round of ballet performancess and this year was the best ever. Sebastian obtained his next level exam with merit and we were quite simply enchanted with Abigail's performance of her butterfly dance.

Sports Day Performances

Despite the persistent threat of rain, we managed a whole day of hilarious sporting performances from our children. I wouldn't look to see either of our children in any Olympics anytime in the future. But they sure enjoyed themselves!

Africa Rain

I want to be a part of this choir!

Toothless

Sebastian has lost another tooth. This is only the second one having lost the first one when we were on holiday in America last summer. It had been hanging loose for quite a long time and tonight his dinner proved a step too far or perhaps a bite too many. We had blood everywhere as it dangled there and he finally gave his mother permission to grab hold and give it a good yank. Out it came!

Summer Ball

It was that time of year again and we dutifully botted and suited set off for the annual Summer Ball with our good friends, Sean and Helen. A big thanks to the babysitter, Gill, who made sure the children were tucked away safe and sound whilst we drank far too much champagne and danced until our feet bled (literally). A fabulous night was put on by the dedicated school volunteers and hopefully we raised a substantial amount for charity (and the school)! Until next year.....

NOTE: My husband made (sewed) his very own bow tie. he was so enamored with my choice of frock (ie dress) that he set off to the fabric store, picked out a matching colour of fabric, brought it home, made his own pattern, and sewed his very own bow tie. Check him out!!!!

Prima Donnas

These are some photos taken at the end of last term of the children demonstrating their outstanding grace and superb ballet skills. Or not......

Don't Rain On My Parade

Today Sebastian made his appearance as a sprite at the Old Windsor Carnival. For the very first time in my memory, it rained on Carnival Day. It rained hard enough for them to have to cancel the horse and carriage. But that wasn't going to spoil our day. The locals in the village scrambled and the sprites were very happy to make do sitting in a convertible despite the drizzle.. Sebastian looked very handsome and made a dapper attendant to the Carnival Queen and her entourage.

If.....

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

Happy 8th Birthday, Sebastian!

Much love,

Mummy xxx

Animals

Hippo as Human

And make sure you watch this all the way to the end!

The Ghost by Robert Harris

I've never read a book by John le Carre. Despite my effusive praise for the Baldacci novels, I'm just not all that into guy spy novels. and I've always firmly put Robert Harris into that category. I read his book Fatherland which is about the alternate reality of what might have been if Hitler had won the war. Joseph Kennedy, the father of JFK, is president and we all speak German. This book seriously freaked me out.

When the local book store held a signing with Robert Harris I gave it a miss.

But then someone I know told me that Harris felt this was his favourite novel of all the ones he'd written. And that she loved it. I trust her recommendations so I decided to give it a go.

Now I'm thinking I'm going to have to read more Robert Harris.

The Ghost is about a writer who writes autobiographies for intellectually challenged sports stars and celebrities trying to wring the last out of the shine out of their star and into their bank account. These ghost writers are considered to be much more intelligent than their subjects and are considered to be the laughing stock of the literary world.

So it's a bit of a surprise when The Ghost is hired to finish writing the autobiography of Adam Lang after the original writer, Mike McAra, allegedly commits suicide. Lang is the politician of his time and as his influence fades he is desperate to tell his story but he's more style than substance. And the draft McAra has left behind is a disaster, so badly written that the only option is to start over.

I loaned this book to my mother when she needed something to replace her Baldacci debacle. She took it to France and never put it down. We had to pry it out of her fingers when we went to Disneyland. I'm afraid I had much the same reaction. Luckily, it's not long or verbose so I managed it in just 2 days.

The book does take so many twists and turns that I lost my way a couple of times and had to go back a few pages....I even reread an entire chapter. And just when you think it's all over and the mystery is revealed the ending wallops you up side the end and you realise you didn't have anything figured out. Genius!

Easing In

In September Sebastian will begin as a probationary chorister. This is a huge honour and something that he wanted to do. I wasn't so keen on the idea but when your child wants an opportunity to be a part of something bigger than himself, you kinda don't want to get in the way.

Yes, that might mean your very own sacrifices but this isn't about me. It's about him. He is going to be performing with one of the world's greatest boy's choirs in the world. The training he will receive will benefit him for the rest of his life. And he wanted to do it. I've never seen him so determined as I did before his audition.

But the step towards Year4, and choristing, and boarding all at once seemed a step too far. Seb is like me and doesn't like change. So we decided to break it up into bite size chunks. He'll do a night of boarding every week for the remainder of the year and then next year when he goes to 2 times (Tuesday and Thursday) every week it won't be such a shock for everyone involved.

The boarding school is great fun for the boys. They have a big flat screen TV. They have a Play Station, a Wii, an xBox. They have gap students who's sole purpose in life is to entertain them. They have each other. They have a chef in the dining hall who cooks them amazing dinners and a hot breakfast every day. They have supervised prep to help them with their homework. they have tennis courts and a swimming pool and cricket grounds. Quite frankly, it's a bit better than home.

Except we're not there.

Abigail misses her brother when he is away. The first morning she was in a state and didn't quite know what to do with herself. The next week she wasn't quite so bad. And she has announced that starting in Year3 she wants to board.

From the day a child is conceived everything you do, every decision you make, every guidance you give moves you closer to that place where that child ceases to be a child, ceases to be reliant on you and moves out into the big world. Show me the child at 7 and I'll show you the man. We've done a great job raising him and our job isn't finished.

For now, he's merely having a sleepover once every week! Stop worrying.....

Frankie & Stankie by Barbara Trapido

Or is it Frankie and Stinky? It should be.

I was filled with hope as this book started. Set in South Africa, the story begins in the 1950s as two sisters, Dinah & Lisa navigate the turbulent world of adolescence and apartheid.

My hope soon gave way to dismay as the sheer volume of minutia deadens the flow of the story or perhaps more accurately stops the story altogether. My dismay turned to disgust when 2/3 of the way through the novel I realised that there was unequivocally and absolutely no plot.

It was as if the author had found some young girls diaries and put them together with all the mundane observations and called it a book. The details are exquisite and evokes the era with perfection but the girls just meander through life and despite the fact that they are living in this extraordinary time, they are wholly unaffected.

I have to confess I did not finish the book. I abandoned my efforts about 3/4 of the way through and decided to move on. Maybe the ending is amazing. But I wasn't going to waste another minute of my life to find out.

Book Group Verdict: One woman loved it. Not so much any one else. But we had a 40th birthday to celebrate so who could be bothered to talk about a book that was such a waste of time.

Divine Justice by David Baldacci

Another Baldacci novel. Another rip roaring read.

My mother picked this up after reading my reviews of his previous novels Split Second and The Camel Club. She tried to read it on the plane but abandoned it and left it here for me saying she just couldn't get into it.

She must be nuts. Or maybe you just need to read the other two novels first. The characters are nearly all recurring throughout the plots and subtleties of characterisation and story line might be lost if you don't know what has come before.

Divine Justice saw the return of my favourite Baldacci character, Oliver Stone, and the plot is just as improbable as his name is real. I'm not a conspriracy theorist and I hope to heaven that the governments of the free world really aren't this corrupt and conniving. But the story twists and turns like a Mach 10 rollercoaster ride and I just never know where the story is going to take me. Just hang on and enjoy the ride.

Gotta Love Sports

Where's My Teddy Bear?

You would think that a mother would send her beloved son off on his very first boarding experience supremely prepared for all that may come his way.

He had his jammies, his slippers, his dressing gown (robe), spare pants, spare shoes, toothbrush, tooth paste, shampoo, hayfever liquid, flannel (washcloth), bath gel, school clothes, play clothes, warm weather gear, rain gear. We were prepared for every eventuality.

But this mother forgot the most important piece of equipment a little 7 year old boy needs when away from his mother at boarding school: his teddy bear, Chloe.

And he was missing Chloe more than ever at 3 am and mummy wasn't there to wipe away the tears and tuck him back into bed. Oh, please tell me I haven't just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Carnival Sprite

Saturday was the May Fair which is a fundraiser for the local Scouts and Girl Guide organisation. The May Fair is also the occasion to pick the attendants for the Carnival Fair. There is a Queen, a princess, 2 young attendants and 2 sprites (a nod to equal opportunity for the boys).

Last year Sebastian gave it a go and didn't make the grade (although we are never quite sure what they are looking for but it doesn't matter because it is just a bit of fun). This year he gave it another go and I am proud to announce that he will be one of two sprites in our Carnival.

He will appear at the Donkey Derby on Friday night, ride the float at the Carnival Parade on Saturday morning and be at the Carnival for various other activities throughout the day on Saturday as well as Sunday.

If you live local come out and support this fantastically old fashioned and incredibly fun filled weekend - June 5-7!

A Map to Lulworth Cove

After Stonehenge we headed to the beach given that it was such a gorgeous sunny day. Unfortunately, my husband doesn't really believe in maps. And he won't ask directions. So we spent nearly 2 hours driving around in circles in Dorset looking for Lulworth Cove. The good news is it was worth it. The bad news is we could have driven straight there if he'd just referenced a map and spent quite a bit more time on the beach. As it was everyons's nerves were frazzled and my mother looked like a pretzel all tangled up in the back seat with the children.

Once we got her straightened out though we taught her how to act like a Brit on the beach! Sandy biscuits and the ever present threat of rain and/or darkness did not dampen our spirits.

Lulworth Cove is on the Jurassic Coast in Dorset on the southwest coast of England. Amazing fossils of numerous prehistoric creatures continue to be found here. And there is no end to the surprises of the rock pools!

Bailey loved it most of all!

The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid

I read this book all wrong. I read it thinking it was just a novel. And when I finished it I had no idea what had happened or what it was about. But you can't read this novel that way. And I wish I had known this before I started reading it because now that I know what I know I am going to have to read it all over again.

Changez is from Pakistan and honours his family by winning a scholarship to Harvard University. Upon graduating he is offered the top place at the premier management consultancy, Underwood Sampson. He excels by living and breathing his work. He falls in love with a woman, Erica, who does not, cannot reciprocate his love due to her history.

And then 9/11 happens and Changez's love affairs with America and Erica end. His place in the society abruptly and subtly morphs into something much more sinister.

Reviews I have read indicate this book is metaphor for the US and the changes that have happened there since 9/11.

The book is entirely told in the first person. You never hear the voice of the American Changez is speaking to. You have no idea how they met or what brought them together. You don't know if Changez is good or bad and you don't know if the American is good or bad. The allegory works perfectly.

Hamid is originally from Lahore. He attended Princeton and worked briefly for a management consultancy in America. He now lives in London. One wonders how much of this is autobiographical.

Book Group Verdict: This was the second selection of the Waterstone's book group and probably my favourite of the two. More people read this book than the other I think largely because it was much shorter and took no more than a few days to get through it. It's not one of those books that you "like". It just makes you think. Which definitely means I recommend it. Thinking is good. As a result of the book group I increased my understanding of the content and will definitely re-read.

The Senator's Wife by Sue Miller

I liked this book. And then I hated this book. And then I liked this book.

Meri & Nathan move in next door to Delia & Tom. Tom is never around and by being exceedingly nosy, Meri discovers why. Meri is unhappy in her marriage for no good reason and wishes she was more like Delia. She betrays Delia in the most invasive way not once but twice despite Delia's attempts to be her friend.

Meri is a reprehensible character right up until the end of the book. I hated her whingeing, whining ways but she redeems herself somewhat in the last chapter. Delia is an understandable but sad picture of what it meant to be the wife of a successful senator with a roving eye in the 1960s. Tom is a pathetic, weak, vile man. You never really get to know Nathan. He skirts around the fringes of the novel without having an impact on any of the story.

The beginning reads like a mystery but this isn't really a mystery. Tom is having affairs. everyone knows he is. The middle irritated me so much I almost stopped reading. Why do women have to be portrayed as so weak. The ending was a complete surprise and I loved it because of the way it socks you in the gut. Meri did what?

This is not a pleasant story. I don't like what it says about woman and their relationships with each other. I don't like what is says about motherhood and our relationships with our children. But just because I don't like it doesn't mean it isn't true.

I recommend reading this book only if you have a strong stomach and aren't particularly emotionally fragile. If you are looking for a happy, uplifting read, look elsewhere.

Stonehenge

Besides jetting (or training) off to Paris we also did some sightseeing a bit closer to home.

Paris 2009

I remember the very first time I went to Paris. I walked out of Gare du Nord and asked my travelling companion to pinch me. I asked her to do it again as we approached the Eiffel Tower. My love affair with Paris has never died. Although with a new family of 2 toddlers it isn't really the first choice of holiday destinations, my obsession with Paris had cooled.

My mother had never been to Paris and it was definitely on her bucket list of things to do in her lifetime. It seemed a logical conclusion then that after a few days at Disneyland we would move on over to the City of Lights.

And so we made our way to Paris via the RER (train). As we began the walk to our hotel I realised that one of the streets we were walking down was clearly a red light district as I hurried the children past the doors of establishments with women in their lingerie lounging about. Luckily the children didn't even notice. Well, not that first night anyway. Seb did ask a few nights later why those women always had their pajamas on and I left Marc to answer that one.

We checked in and once mom got over the shock of there not being an elevator in the hotel we set off for the short walk up to Sacre Coeur for the breath taking view. We had dinner at a lovely (if a little touristy) restaurant and sighed at Paris by night.

We fit in the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe the next day. We caught some staggering performances by street musicians.

We found an excellent guide to 12 Renaissance masters to help the children (and us) navigate the Louvre. The children loved looking for dogs and parrots and various assorted oddities in the paintings.

We enjoyed the sweet delights of Angelina's on the rue de Rivoli and watched a street protest of teachers. what is Paris without a protest march?

We savoured the culinary delights at the Grizzli Cafe as they tolerated our atrocious attempts at mastering the French language.

The children ran around the Pompidou Centre whilst we sat at an outdoor cafe drinking beers and cafe au lait (not together).

We only got grandma trapped in a turnstile once (which left a hideous bruise) and knocked her glasses off her face once (another wee bruise). Marc and I got off a metro without grandma and the children only once so we must try harder to lose them next time.

On the way home we met a mad French woman (who face painted Abigail) and a lovely Italian couple whilst we enjoyed some seriously smelly French cheese and baguette.

A trip full of a lifetime of memories!

The Girl With a Dragon Tatoo by Steig Larsson

I'm not much into the conspiracy theories. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe Marilyn had few too many drinks and pills and just wasn't all that happy. But I am not convinced that Steig Larsson is really dead.

Larsson is the author of The Girl With a Dragon Tattoo. This book is the first in a trilogy which Larsson delivered to his publisher and then promptly died "under suspicious circumstances". I knew this before I started reading the book and didn't really give it a second thought.

And then I read the book and now I am convinced it is all a conspiracy. Because the book makes you think everything is a conspiracy.

A journalist has been convicted of libel and forced to resign his position as editor of his own magazine. The patriarch of a wealthy family brings him in to find a family member who mysteriously disappeared 40 years ago. A young, troubled beautiful goth is going to help solve the mystery.

To say anymore would spoil the wonderful suspense.

Set in Sweden, the novel is chocker full of Scandanavian details. Mikael Blomqvist is the hero and an immensely likable character but he's not perfect. Lisbeth Salander is quite simply one of my favourite fictional characters I've ever discovered.

Whilst I saw some twists coming, the ending will shock and awe you. The writing pulls you along at a Grisham pace and the translation is very well done. Don't concern yourself too much with the Swedish place names; it doesn't really matter and has no material outcome to the story. Also, don't be frightened off by the size of the book. You read it so quickly you forget how long it is.

I had to keep track of all the characters being introduced on a separate sheet of paper particularly in the first several chapters. It is a big family and there is a lot going on.

So I am hoping that Larsson couldn't possibly be dead. He delivered these 3 perfectly formed novels (his first) and then disappeared off the face of the earth. Don't tell me I've only got 3 books of his to read. I don't believe it. Not for 1 second.

The second book has been published but only in hardback. Bring on the paperback!

Book Group Verdict: This was the first of one of two choices by my Waterstone's book group which just started last month. This is a serious(ish) book group. We talked about the books and everyone reads at least one of the books. The people who read this selection agreed that the first 100 pages or so jump around a bit and is a bit difficult to follow. Most agreed it was a fabulous start to the trilogy. Only one person didn't enjoy it but I couldn't quite understand her reasons.

Disneyland 2009

I have finally found some time (or stopped running about at 100 mph) long enough to get some photos from our trip to Disneyland loaded for all to enjoy. We had a great time!

Abigail was so excited so just bounced up and down all day and night. Sebastian was really into riding the rides. Except for Big Thunder Mountain which we accidentally took both children on (in the last 2 cars) with not a single adult realising until it was too late just what a big scary rollercoaster it is. I think I might have put them off riding roller coasters for the rest of their lives.

My favourite part of the day was the parade. The first day we didn't quite know what to expect and didn't have very good seats. But the second day we knew what we were doing and had fabulous seats.

Abigail's favourite was Small World. She must have went round 10 times. She would get to the end and immediately want to go again. That song played over and over in my head for days.

Sebastian's favourite was a tie between Star Tours and Buzz Lightyear Laser. Star tours was an amazing outer space flight simulation. I just pretended I was Princess Leia and kept looking out for Hans Solo. Marc and Sebastian were really good at the laser game but my other, abigail and I were hopeless. The boys were scoring in the 5 digits whilst we were just happy to score above 2000.

Marc's favourite was the Big Thunder Mountain despite the fact that Abigail was frightened to death and Sebastian was white as a ghost.

Mom says she was just happy to be anywhere with us.

The weather was divine. Sunshine and blue skies graced us every day. Who would have thought I would need to bring sun block and that we didn't need our winter coats?

Generosity

An amazing gift in a much needed time.

Our Insignificance

Hubble Photographs

Journey to France

I'm not even sure where to start.....so I'll start at the very beginning.

Once upon a time.....no wait that will take too much time. OK, I will stick to the highlights and some low lights.

Day 1

We set off in a taxi from home to Heathrow Terminal 5 with a plan to catch the underground there to St Panscras station in London where we were due to hop on the EuroStar bound for Paris. We managed to pack gear for 3 adults and 2 children in 2 large suitcases, very large. Then we had the assorted camera bag, handbags, briefcases (with laptops and required reading, Abigail's Dora the Explorer pull along and Sebastian's elephant backpack with Nintendo DS lite bits and bobs. Not as light as I would have hoped but the best we could manage for a 6 day trip.

We reached Gare du Nord and bought what we thought were the appropriate tickets to Marnee de Vallee (the end of the line and location of the famed Disneyland). After an hour tube journey out to the back of beyond Paris we had just the final leg to go. We got to the gates, put in our tickets and it wouldn't let us out. We had purchased the wrong tickets. It was late on Sunday night and the station was abandoned. Marc pushed the red button fro assistance and the gate opened and he and the children went through. My mother made a mad dash for it and only made it halfway. The gates closed and trapped her. I began frantically pushing the red assistance button and the french went right out of my head as I was trying to explain that my mother was trapped, my husband and children were on the other side of the gate and we didn't have the right ticket.

As if by magic the gates opened again, releasing my mother and allowing me to pass through. Phew!

We stood on the street looking round the ghost town that was the location of our hotel. We were staying at the Adagio Apartments off the Disneyland Park and it would appear that no one cared. After several increasingly frantic moments my mother hailed us a small taxi. We crammed in the luggage and ourselves and after just 5 minutes we were relieved of an extortionate fee for the taxi but hey, we were at our humble abode for the next 3 days.

We grabbed a bit to eat in the shopping precinct next door and settled in for the excitement of Disneyland Paris tomorrow!

Dancing in the Station

At the train station in Liverpool, T-Mobile (a UK mobile phone company) did this great commercial unbeknownst to the daily commuters. They practiced for 8 weeks late at night at the station. On January 15th, 2009, with hidden cameras and 400 dancers at 11:00 a.m. their plan was put into action.



Wish I had been there!

Daffodowndilly

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,

She wore her greenest gown;

She turned to the south wind

And curtsied up and down.

She turned to the sunlight

And shook her yellow head,

And whispered to her neighbour:

"Winter is dead."

- A.A. Milne

When I Grow Up

After it was graded and the child brought it home, she returned to school the next day with the following note:

Dear Ms. Davis,

I want to be very clear on my child's illustration. It is NOT of me on a dance pole on a stage in a strip joint. I work at Home Depot and had commented to my daughter how much money we made in the recent snowstorm. This photo is of me selling a shovel.

Mrs. Warrington

Channeling Free Speech

I am a fan a free speech. It is a basic tenet of freedom and many people today are living in countries where free speech is a right denied.

But should there be limits?

Yesterday a few protesters appeared at a homecoming parade given to honour the British soldiers who have fought in Afghanistan. The protest was limited to just a few and I hope the cheers of the hundreds drowned out the jeers of the few.

Soldiers are following orders and display tremendous courage under the most difficult of circumstances. They are far from home, away from their families and friends. Their lives have been under threat every single minute of every single day they were away.

There are appropriate means in which to protest a war. There are places to go to demonstrate your dissatisfaction with the current policy. There are politicians to write to. There is a better way to exercise your freedom of speech.

This is not it.

Today, a similar march took place without incident. Thank goodness. I would hate for these men and women to think for one second that we don't appreciate every thing they do to ensure more people can enjoy the freedom of speech.

Mother of a Chorister

Before he went to bed, Sebastian insisted I promise to post to my blog the announcement that he has been offered a place as a Probationary Chorister beginning in September 2009 and let everyone know that I am now the mother of a chorister.

He is rightfully quite excited about his achievement and I couldn't be more proud. He displayed more composure than his mother did during the daunting experience and he can hardly wait to get started. I, on the other hand, will be savouring every moment we have together between now and then. I suppose that's what parenting is all about.

Audition

At the last minute Sebastian decided to go ahead and play a violin piece for his chorister audition. Nothing like sending mummy right over the edge.

The evenings last week were consumed with practise. He played Boating Lake on the piano until I just simply couldn't listen to it anymore. It is a beautiful tune but I'm not sure I ever want to hear it again. He sang his 2 songs until he had all the words memorised and could find his tune and key all on his own. I do love I Vow to Thee, My Country but I really hope I don't have to listen to Onward Christian Soldiers again for a very long time. And then just to torture me (although he said it was to give him an edge) he decided to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on his violin.

He's only just started playing the violin in September. And he couldn't really make a recognisable tune with it until the last few months. For a substantial period of time we had lots of painful screeching.

As Seb practised his violin piece before the audition, Marc and I stood in the kitchen holding our breath and wincing each time it didn't quite go as he planned. But he was determined. And like his mummy, you don't get in his way once he's made up his mind.

He looked so smart as we walked out the door. His hair was even combed. He carried his music, hymn books, and violin. We sat on a bench outside the room they were auditioning. Seb read a Beast Quest book and I knitted fast and furiously. They called him name and came for him. He jumped up and started to walk in completely forgetting his stuff.

The door closed behind him. My knitting pace increased but my hands were shaking. He played his violin first. It wasn't perfect but he didn't embarrass himself and I breathed a very small sigh of relief. I could hear him doing some aural tests and I was pleased with his confidence. He sang his two hymns but the piano was so loud I could barely hear him through the doors. At least he assures me he didn't forget any of his words and he sounded like he was in tune.

I clutched my knitting to my chest and didn't breath until I had to. There was chuckling laughter from the room. "That's my boy", I thought; cut the tension with a bit of humour. At last Boating Lake echoed down the hall and the last note brought tears to my eyes.

He had done it. It was done. He had done everything he could. He had practised. He was confident. He had tried his very best.

He left the room with a great big smile and wrapped his arms around me. I was so glad that it was over and I was so proud that he had tried.

I'm not entirely sure when we find out if he has been chosen but am hoping it will be early next week. Nothing to worry about now though. It is in the hands of God.

Rugby vs Bishopsgate

Year 3 played a rugby match on Friday afternoon. Each school put on 4 teams and all teams put on a superb show. I was particularly proud of my son. He ran in the correct direction every time. He kept his head in the game and he very nearly scored a try! I have adjusted my expectaitons and I mut say it was quite an improvement from his football (soccer outing) last fall. Long may it last.

PS He's quite easy to pick out of the photos. He has light coloured ginger hair and he's the shortest, smallest, etc. (Dynamite comes in small packages and don't you forget it!)

Soup Kitchen

Michelle Obama was volunteering at a soup kitchen a few blocks from the White House last week. An article in the newspaper featured a photo of a soup kitchen patron taking a photo of Mrs Obama. He was taking the photo with his mobile phone.

That's right...how does someone getting their food from a soup kitchen afford a mobile phone? With a camera in it?

Am I the only person in the world who thinks there is something wrong with this picture?

Abigail's 5th Birthday

I know my daughter turned 5 on December 24 2008. I know I haven't managed to put the photos up until now. Give me a break. I am not in the running for mother of the year. At least they are here now!

My Little Stars

December was a crazy month and whilst my blog posts were few and far between it wasn't because nothing was going on and I had writer's block. It was only because I was on the go here, there and everywhere every waking moment of every single day and night. Do not mistake that as a complaint. Simply put it was one of the best holiday seasons I can remember!

So, please, do excuse the lateness of this post. I want to catch you up on all those happy memories.

We were honoured to have so many friends and corresponding invites to festive parties. Rest assured the diet went out of window just through the copious quantities of champagne we consumed. And that is definitely not a complaint. January has plenty of time for dieting!

The first treat of the season was Sebastian's Music Recital. The Middle School, Years 3-5 (ages 7-11), performed instrumental and vocal pieces. I have never seen such dedication, raw talent and composure from children so very young. Some of the performances were nearing professional level and I ain't kidding. I have little doubt that there are some future stars in this bunch. Sebastian performed a solo of I Saw Three Ships, which he has been practicising nonstop of several weeks for hours and hours. It was flawless. I was so proud as he took his bow.

Next we were blessed with Abigail's Nativity Story. She was a star, literally and figuratively. Auntie Mary saved the day (one again) with a white tunic (made from a pillowcase) and Marc hand painted silver stars on it. The silver tinsel was courtesy of the class teachers. She sang confidently and loudly in front of 80 (or so) parents. Her line- "But she was still unhappy!" - was delivered with thespian expertise and adequate character pizzazz! At the end of the performance, there was not a dry eye in the house (including her mummy's). She is so adorable I could eat her alive!

We made boxes of home made treats for the children's teachers and Wicked Uncle Scottish Mike came round to help with the decorating of sugar cookies. I do believe that the men did more decorating than the children and they certainly ate more than they decorated. As well as the cookies, the boxes included almond roca, Christmas tree bark, divinty, and apricot/ginger bread. The almond roca was everyone's favourite and I do believe the weight I gained during the holidays was down solely to too much almond roca....although I suspect the cheese also made a significant contribution!

The final school performance was the middle school's spectacular cantata of Scrooge. That's right! Years 3, 4, and 5 sang the enitre story of The Christmas Carol. The parents looked on in awe as these children mastered not only the tune but all those words. Such concentration!

We shared breakfast with Santa which was an incredible privledge on the 20 December. We know how busy he is at that time of year and I'm not entirely sure how he managed to make time for us in his diary but we didn't really care as the children were able to make it very clear to him exactly what their expectations would be for the morning of 25 December.

Fun in the Snow

Back in February we had the biggest snowfall in these here parts in over 18 years. We loved every minute of it!

Who Moved My Blackberry by Martin Lukes

My most recent troll through the library found me going home with this satirical novel. The British do satire better than just about anyone and this book had me laughing at the absurdity of corporate life. And crying at how relevant I found bits of it.

Martin is a self absorbed high level manager working at a generic company in London who can't understand why his family and career are falling apart but is quite certain none of it is his own fault. Everyone else is to blame. He plays the game telling each player in his life exactly what he wants them to hear and manipulating his version of the truth to shed a beneficial light on himself.

This is all good fun and I found myself laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. It took me less than a day to power through it since it is a series of emails and blackberry messages. Highly recommended for those of you who find yourself getting withdrawal symptoms in the form of physical shaking when your blackberry is turned off during a flight or you've left your mobile at home.

WARNING: Lots of British inside jokes may leave readers of other nationalities wondering what in the world he is talking about unless, like me, you've spent a lot of time here and sort of get the inside jokes.

PS I finished this book so quickly that I loaned it to my boss who I thought would find it amusing.....ok, I also have a death wish. The ironic bit is he lost it on an airplane and I've had to pay the library for it. Poetic Justice.

Trophy for Last Place

My son had a judo match on Saturday. Some of you may recall the hilarity of watching on YouTube his last efforts. I'd like to say that he has improved.

Actually, he has improved. The trouble is so has every one else. And they have grown. They have grown much more than Sebastian has grown. Does everyone have their children on steroids or what?

Sebastian has more confidence than skill, luck or bulk.

He got a trophy for coming in last place. He was happy. That's all that matters.

Scalectrix

Sebastian has slowly been acquiring a substantial collection of Scalectric which is no small financial investment. Most of it has been from generous friends and family as birthday and Christmas gifts. And it just broke my heart when he couldn't play with it. Not because he couldn't but because his mummy is a big mean control freak who hates mess.

Now before you yell and scream at me for being so mean, just imagine the gigantic health and safety risk of tripping over the track in the middle of the night and destroying the child's favourite toy.

So we weighed up the benefit of not destroying it by keeping it put away or driving me insane by having it out all over the place. And we came up with an altogether absolutely brilliant solution. actually, it wasn't my idea at all. It was my husband's idea but don't tell him I told you he had a brilliant idea. It will just go to his head and I'll never hear the end of it. And I really couldn't bear that.

The solution was to clear out the loft of our garage, lay down some carpet off cuts and lay out a huge track which would be guaranteed to provide hours of uninterrupted amusement. This led to the inevitable problem of realising that clearly we didn't have enough track to build the dream track and we set off in search of building what appeared to me adequate set into a more extensive and seriously over the top set.

All that matters though is the children quite happily set off with Marc several hours ago for the garage loft and I haven't heard hide nor hair of them since. And my house is neat and tidy.

Scalectric, in case you live in a cave (or outside the UK) and haven't had the opportunity to appreciate the finer points of cruising round the track at full speed and sending your cars careening off the edge, is an electronic race track which can entertain children (and men - same thing) for hours and hours and hours allowing mummy to enjoy her bath and several good books with a large glass (or perhaps the whole bottle) of a glorious white burgundy wine. Cheers!

Red Ropers

About 20 years ago, my father bought me a pair of red ropers. For you city folks, ropers are sensible cowboy boots: low heels worn to ride horses when roping steers. Not that I've ever roped steers but they are great for country & western dancing.

I loved those boots but after 2 pregnancies, my feet spread and I gained weight and, let's just say I couldn't get my dang feet into those boots.

I couldn't bear to part with them so I handed them down to my daughter who has worn them for the last couple of years to dress up.

Well, I've lost the pregnancy weight and every couple months I tried and tried to squeeze my feet into those boots. The just wouldn't go. It was like my heels had spread permanently and I would have to undergo plastic surgery on my feet (do they do that?).

Today I have a Western themed party to go to complete with dancing. Not sure what to expect but I wasn't going to go without my boots.

So I pushed and pulled and tugged and got my feet into those boots! they are tight. So tight they might be cutting off my circulation. But I don't care.

I got my feet into those boots and these boots are going dancing!

Energy Crisis is Over

An EXCELLENT program. Don't delay watching this because the BBC doesn't leave their programs on iPlayer for very long. It is 59 minutes long but worth every second.

Subscribe

If you go to YouTube and subscribe to BarackObamadotcom you will get updates from President Obama about his policies, programs, etc. this will keep you informed which can only be a good thing.

Here's the latest:



Make sure you check out the Recovery site to watch where the money is going (that's assuming the package gets approved)!

Yes We Can

I'm normally pretty much up on these things. but I have to confess, this just blew right over my radar. Just in case it blew past yours, I thought I would give you an opportunity to catch it. Yes We Can. Even though we already did inspires me to do it again.



And then for the funny factor......



And for the sheer music of it......

Famous Friends

OK, so she's more infamous than famous but I think she will be famous one day.

This is a great article by a mummy friend of mine writing about part of her trip across America last summer.

What she did leave out was the rather panicked plea I got from her when she had made it to Detroit and been fleeced by her rental car company. Since we were on that side of the Atlantic, I had offered to help and dispensed some suitably useful advise about insurance and hire cars.

Mel is now writing a book about the experience of taking her boys on a trip of a lifetime. Give her your support!

PS In case you missed it, Mel is the author of Toasters Don't Roast Chickens, the amazing and inspiring story of how she dealt with her son's chronic health problems. It will make you think twice about the advise and prescriptions your medical professionals are dispensing. It will also force you to look at what you feed your children.

On the Brink

Sebastian has lost his games kit. That's all the clothes he wears to play rugby, football (aka soccer), etc It appears that last week with the blizzard they didn't play any games. We thought the kit came home but it isn't in my car, daddy's car or anywhere in the house or garage. So unless it is in the school (which he assures me it is not and yes, I know that has its own fallibility issues) or in someone else's car it is gone. And I will not be spending a small fortune to replace it. My son will just have to sit on the sidelines and learn the consequences of not taking care of his kit. The school called at 5 pm and Sebastian has finished his homework early (since he couldn't play games without his games kit) and they need me to pick him up early. Nope, he will sit and read a book until his father comes to get him.

The tenants of our rental moved out in late January and we had made arrangements to get the place repainted and the carpets replaced. But the letting agency had found some people who were willing (for a small reduction in rent) to take it as it was. Now 3 weeks later and 2 weeks before they are due to move in, they have decided they want the carpet replaced and it painted. OMG, are you kidding me? Do they not understand As Is?

My daughter worked very hard over the weekend on her homework. She has learned a whole bunch of new words and drew a lovely picture to go with her new phonic sound. but in the chaos that must have been my husband trying to get the children off to school without a games bag, her poor little book bag got left behind and her teacher didn't get to see the fruits of her labour. she is still pouting.

It is pouring rain. It is cold. There is a prediction for more snow. Our pipes to the toilet upstairs cracked in the freezeout of last week. The plumber was due to be here on Friday of last week. He was due here tonight. He hasn't shown up and hasn't rang. We have been without a toilet on the first floor for 6 days. The children are having to come up or down to use a toilet. this is not good in the middle of the night!

Our piano tuner cancelled the appointment. Twice. and now I need to call and reschedule. Yeah, like I've got all the time in the world to be rescheduling because they don't know how a calendar operates.

The school diary says there is an informal concert tonight but I know nothing about this.

We have no more fire wood. It was meant to last the whole winter but because it has been so blooming cold we have used it all up.

I have no idea what I am going to make for dinner. Pay Day is still 4 days away so we will probably be having Cheerios for dinner.

Don't even get me started on work.

I am on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

The Camel Club by David Baldacci

A swift trip to the library found me heading home with another Baldacci page turner. And this one was not nearly as good as the previous.

A group of fringe characters living around Washington DC witness a murder. A Secret Service agent is just trying to make it to retirement without his president getting shot. Paths cross in the middle of the most convoluted conspiracy theory I've ever heard.

The plot twists and turns so much that at some point I lost track of it all. By the end of the novel I wasn't entirely sure who exactly the bad guys were and who the good guys were.

My favourite character was the off the grid former US government sponsored assassin, Oliver Stone (not his real name, duh!). His conspiracy theory mates are equally likable. Reading about their highly unlikely adventures is a bit like watching the 3 stooges try to bake a cake.

Less enjoyable were the Secret Service agents, Alex and Jackie, and Kate, the love interest is a completely undeveloped character.

The novel takes the moral high ground with a strong recommendation for the path the US should take towards the Middle East foreign policy which is just a step too far.

The plot was clever and had quite a bit of potential which could have been done a bit cleaner. All in all an enjoyable, quick page turner but I might need a Baldacci break.

In Loving Memory

Joyce Elaine (Carson) Smith
October 3 1921-February 7 2005

I miss her everyday.

Best Byline Ever

I know I am an Obama fan. And I was half hoping that my infatuation with the man and his enormous intellect would start to wane. Every star must dim and the shelf life of a typical politician's star tends to be shorter then mayonnaise sitting outside in August.

But, oh, this star just keeps getting brighter and brighter.

First, he admits to being human and commits the one mortal sin that all politicians avoid. He made a mistake. And he took responsibility for the mistake. And he is correcting it. Oh glory be!! Is the world still turning? Has this ever happened in the modern era of politics? Is Bill Clinton listening? Is Gordon Brown?

Secondly, he has moved and moved fast to reverse some of the most shameful legislation ever implemented by his predecessor. In fact, Obama and his team must have been making a l ist and checking it twice during the last 8 years because they are ripping those Bush sponsored but unconstitutional and inhumane activities right out with the tattered and torn White House drapes.

Finally (but certainly not last) the man writes this. He writes. He thinks. He speaks. The byline is the best. Ever.

These Foolish Things by Deborah Moggach

I've been invited to join a new book group and this is the first selection.

The book is a delicious collision of cultures: British & Indian. We start out with snippets of stories of the retired population struggling to fit in. Their families have no time for them. Their retirement homes are falling apart. Their friends are dying. Their lives are shriveling.

In walk 2 cousins: One distinctly English doctor whose skin colour tells the story of his family's immigration to Great Britain; the other a man struggling to carve out his fortune in the teeming metropolis of Mumbai. Neither really fond of the other.

Over a rushed coffee in an anonymous hotel in Bayswater the 2 decide to go into business milking the British colonial history of India and open up a care home in Mumbai for the older generation of Great Britain. They figure the weather is nicer and the staff cheaper. The British have failed to take care of their senior citizens and India can do a much better job of it. What they fail to take into account is the emotional baggage these older people will carry with them when they move in.

If you're not British you might find this completely implausible. Who in their golden generation is going to up sticks and move to a third world country? Well, the British would. Undoubtedly! After just a few well placed advertisements and the gentle persuasion of the doctor, a small gaggle of older folks begin the adventure of their lives. And yet regardless of location, death is inevitable and life is inescapable.

I loved this book. It is funny without being obvious. The elderly characters are painted with care and empathy, never once descending into mockery or cheap laughter.

Shortly after reading this book, Marc & I went and saw the film, Slumdog Millionaire, about a young man, Jamal, who grew up orphaned in the slums of Mumbai and goes on to win the Indian version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? Jamal is arrested and charged with cheating. The movie maps his extraordinary life which gave him all the answers he needed to win.

I couldn't help but feel that after reading this book and seeing this film, that I am witnessing the birth of a new empire. This is more than the slick consumerism witnessed in Japan in the 1980s. India is a vast country with vast resources and is on the brink of greatness.

Book Group Verdict: If you can believe this, I forgot to go. It completely slipped my mind and after a wicked week at work I fell asleep on the sofa without even giving the book group a second thought. I've never ever done that before. I've apologised profusely and am hoping they will forgive my dodgy memory and let me come next time!

Indian Summer

In youth, it was a way I had
To do my best to please,
And change, with every passing lad,
To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know,
And do the things I do;
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you!

- Dorothy Parker

Healthcare

I sometimes forget how lucky I am to live in a country that has health care for all.

OK, it might not be free. I pay incredibly high taxes and no doubt it subsides those who otherwise couldn't afford it. But I'm happy to do my bit for the greater good.

And it might not be state of the art. And there might be some waiting times which can be insufferable if you or someone you love and care for is on it. I can only afford so much greater good.

But health care is available for every man, woman and child.

And hurrah to the Senate for doing their bit for the greater good for the children of the USA. Finally!