Memos, Mail, Me: All Roads Lead to Home

Monday: I'll give it to you straight. I'm only talking to you in order to aid my procrastination.

I've reached the 156 stitch pick-up stage on the neckband of my large, grey man sweater project, so, please, keep me as long as you like, because that's a job I need to build towards.

It's going to be a week of jobs-from-a-list. Take the hole in the bathroom ceiling. Prime example. Clearly it can't stay there forever. Though of course the cavity, since it's no longer dripping, is certainly better than coping with the threat of the shower above heading downwards. 

Here's the weird thing: we aren't on our own. Fair homes across the land have been similarly affected. There is bathroom chaos wherever I look. We had a text from The Tall One, our boy in Studentland, Scottish Division:

We have no bathroom, it said. There was a leak and the landlady sent a plumber who took all the fixtures out of the bathroom and left. He'll be back tomorrow. But. We. Have. Nothing.

His sister texted back:

Better go buy a bucket, then

And I suspect that's what they did. For those lads were indeed left facility-less, overnight.

It's fixed now. Bucket panic over; and I took a cool twenty four hours for a little professional smugness. I'm not his landlady and I didn't have to sort that one out. No facing down students with their legs crossed for me. Twenty four hours. Then I had another text, this time from Studentland, Closer-to-home Division.

Our drains are blocked again. The bathroom is flooded. Just warning you that I'm about to phone the plumber and he'll send you the bill.

Yes, you are right. This one is all mine. That would be two out of three in the bathroom shuffle. And so I'm making a memo this Monday: Sian: think about a plumbing class. Soon-ish.

My mail? It's in the picture. A just-arrived-this-week Mother's Day gift of a personalised street sign. By next weekend everyone will be home for Easter. Now they know where to come. It's perfect.

How about you? What's new? Anything you'd like to report? Any mail worth remembering? Give us a shout! We'd love to hear about it. Last week Deb, Ruth, Helena, Jane, Barb, Mitra, Mary-Lou, Maggie, Mardi, Honore, Alexandra and Fiona shared. Go on: give 'em a wave! And have a good week!

Memorandum Monday: It's Not Ice Skating

New Monday, new plan. So I started my plan round about Thursday; but round here, right now, it feels like we can start the weekend - or the new week - any day we choose. And that's why on Thursday Operation Get Out of the House began: because if my patient is to return to work before Christmas, as he plans to, he'll have to stay upright and awake for more than a coupe of hours at a time.

I'm a cheap date: trees 28p each, new gingham tea towel £1.14, handful of buttons £1

It's the best time of the year for trying to Get Out of the House. If I mention Christmas shopping, his eyes light up. He likes Christmas shopping. I suppose, for an Accountant, it goes under the heading of Allowable Essential Expenses, and so it's guilt free. Thursday afternoon, we started out in town, where we discovered a new shop, Sostrene Grene. It's like a very chic Tiger, mixing Ikea's natural wood with a Woolworth selection. There was yarn.

On Friday afternoon we drove further out of town, to another new-to-us gift shop. There was a whole room dedicated to yarn. Sian, I thought, you've got a good thing going here: where to Saturday?

Another little village, out in the country. Ah, no: no wool. But second best: a new museum, a tiny one, for us to visit in the old courthouse. Sunday, then. Could I pull it back? Could I achieve wool piggery for two weekends in a row whilst masquerading as a concerned caregiver and enthusiastic trip adviser? 

Yes, yes, I could. We went to the Narnia themed Craft Fair we had enjoyed so much this time last year. There was a stall piled high with hand dyed yarns. Satisfaction guaranteed.

Today? I've set him to sand one of the chairs we ought in the junk shop. Exercise sitting down, he said. Can do, no problem, I replied. Just let me answer this text from your daughter:

Just paid to go ice skating in the bucketing rain. At least I'm one step closer to finding out what I'm good at, because ice skating is not that thing

There's exercise, and there's exercise; and there's sitting down exercise and there's sitting down hard in an unplanned kind of way. I'm sticking to knitting, when I'm sitting.

Have a good week!

But before you make a start, how about a memo? Do anything new at the weekend? Learn anything you didn't know before? How about making a note! Write it down in a memo, this Monday! We'd be delighted to hear all about it.

Last week Alexandra, Deb, Helena, Jane, Mitra, Mary-Lou, Karen, Maggie and Barbara shared their weekend goings on. GIve 'em a wave! Wish them all the best, this Monday.

Poke-Story

That nephew of mine, Little E: if he texts, it's usually a matter of some urgency often requiring rapid aunt participation of an interesting kind. Saturday's message got straight to the point:

Auntie Sian, can you knit me a pokeball hat, please and maybe a pikachu too. Thank you. E xx

There was even a Ravelry link attached; and in that I detected the hand of his mother, so I texted back:

That's a crochet pattern. But there are knitted ones too. I can do that. No problem. 

She returned:

He was worried you might not know what a pokeball hat is. But I said of course you'd know

And, not for the first time, I whispered a quiet word of thanks to the generous knitters who create and post their patterns to a place where an aunt can find them first thing on a Saturday morning, right around breakfast time.

Pattern: a free Ravelry download by SashaKnits (thank you!)
Yarn: Debbie Bliss Cashmerino (which is machine washable)

I printed out my poke- pattern, but it was Sunday night before I was able to sit down and order some poke-wool: red, black and white aran, with a larger-than-my-usual-size circular needle, which couldn't really be called poke(y) at all because it looked so fat. And then I waited for the wool to arrive.

A couple of days later, as I listened for the postman, came not a text message this time, but the very face of Little E himself. Face time! 

"Why aren't you at school?" I asked.

"I'm sick!" he said brightly and smiled his most winning smile, so what could I do but clear my schedule and settle down for a long poke-chat. 

"I'll phone you again later, Auntie Sian: you have a lot more pokemon to learn!" he finished, quite a bit later.

And, what do you know, by the time he called back the parcel of wool had arrived and we were able to open it together. Now, this was good and this was also bad. The red and the black came out of the parcel looking poke-perfect and Little E approved. But when the white appeared? Poke-panic! It wasn't white at all, it was cream.

"That's not right," Little E shook his head. "That white has yellow in it. You need white with....grey in it."

which was pretty deep, I thought, coming from a seven year old, and also unnervingly accurate. The white wasn't white, it was yellow.

"I have to go out now," I said. "But phone me again in a hour and I'll have poke-progress to report."

So he did. And I did. I ran to the Post Office (no: not actually, what a thought) and, on my way, I tried our local wool shop, keeping my fingers very tightly crossed since  I only resort to internet shopping because this place doesn't often have what I need. I was in luck. The poke-hat was back in business, with a new white, signed off by Little E, and a big needle for some swiss darning.

It didn't take very long. So I ran back to the Post Office (no, not really). He says he likes it. But I think it's going to take a bit of persuasion to get him to take a picture. He's gone all shy. Or maybe he's just too busy chasing pokemon. Hey, Little E, I want a go!

Memorandum Monday: Get Your Muse Goggles On

Ah, Monday: another chance to turn the page and start again. It was one of those weekends in which, (in parts at least) I felt like I had tried everything and achieved nothing. Any project I made a start on didn't turn on quite right. Saturday ended with another ripped out sock, leaving me under pressure for the going-to-Guide-Camp socks required for the end of June. So I gave up and went to bed.

Then the snoring started: quietly at first, maybe even for the first two hours or so; but by two in the morning it was building in tone and frequency, and by four, I was realising that possibly my only "new" thing for the weekend would be still awake at 5am...

I didn't threaten divorce. But I did mention noseclips. I'm going to look for some today

But: Sunday. After snatching a couple of hours, I sat at the breakfast table, listening to yet more talk of A Levels and board meetings. 

"I'm going upstairs to get my head showered," I said. (Do you say that round your way? It means to go and enjoy a bit of peace and quiet and come back refreshed; and if you haven't heard it before, feel free to use it for your memo this week.) I picked up my knitting. Aaah, I thought: what about a soothing something on iPlayer, and I found a something about crafting (Called MAKE! Craft Britain); and as I knitted, I learned about "crochet-dermy" which is the art of creating beautiful animals shaped in yarn. They are amazing: like those ones you see in magazines at Christmas with "£1000. From Harrods" underneath. I kept knitting, and the colourwork pattern started to appear beneath my fingers and my head was definitely showered. I was thinking about where to take my pattern next, and about how I had failed to come up with a satisfactory answer the night before, when two men appeared on screen, talking about what they had made. 

"Come on! It's obvious what it is!" one said and then he continued with what, I know wasn't, but which sounded to me in my sleep deprived state like...

"Think about it! Get your muse goggles on!"

Get your muse googles on. Suddenly my whole weekend turned. He was right. I needed to get my muse goggles on and look again for the right inspiration. And more than that. This one is a keeper. If I ever write a sock knitting pattern, I'm going to call it Get Your Muse Goggles On. I'll save it for a blog post title too..

Oh, no: I couldn't wait. I had to share it today. Because it's Monday. And because I like to think it'll give you a smile and help you come up with whatever it is you want to make next.

With thanks to Gossamer Blue for exactly the right Life Pages cards

Before you slip on those goggles, though, please give a wave to everyone who made a memo last Monday.  Deb, Helena, Eileen, Mary Lou, Ladkyis, Karen, Mitra, Susanne, Maggie and Krafty Karen

Have a good week!

A Few Things I'm Finding Amusing (and One I Don't Like At All)

...because I'm looking for little laughs where I can.

So, what's making me smile round here?

- My new high score in my newest addiction. I'm not a FB games player, and I don't have any on my phone at all. But when I get a minute, I admit it, I lift the ipad and hope nobody notices me getting in a bit of practise on 10/10.

Some here prefer Crossy Road. But I know my limits. Plus, I've only just exited the nineties and left Tetris behind me.

- Christmas tree prickles. They shouldn't be a thing this late in January. (I know, I know, many of you say they shouldn't be a thing at all). But, really? Why did one float past me in the bath last night? Where had it come from? (don't answer that) and where was it headed? (don't think about that). Enough. I've emptied the vacuum cleaner once and I don't expect to have to do it again.

- Little E and his happy face appearing...for facetime. Although this week he looked pale and tired, laid low by a bout of tonsillitis (ooh, thanks spellchecker: who knew that was such a hard word to get right); and by an unnerving incident with Teddy Pippin and a washing machine door which wouldn't open. Don't panic. It turned out alright in the end.

- The (Not So) Small One (who probably needs renamed yet again) hit the city's hostelries on Friday night, to celebrate a friend's eighteenth birthday. Now, if you've been reading here a while, you might remember the story of the white denim jacket (it's here); and, if you do, you will, I hope, smile as I did, when I heard she had ended up in the very same place, still bearing the very same name, where I had worn the very same jacket some thirty years before. It's a lucky jacket, that one. So FB says. Though it's been working its magic since before FB could even have been imagined..

Little things, folks: little things.

Oh, and one which I thought I'd mention in case you had noticed it too. The other morning I woke up to discover I had lost about a dozen blog followers overnight. Now, I didn't think I'd said anything awful ( though of course I had a moment of wondering); so I did a bit of digging around and I found this post on Blogger Buzz An Update On Google Friend Connect. Here it is:

"As part of this plan, starting the week of January 11, we’ll remove the ability for people with Twitter, Yahoo, Orkut or other OpenId providers to sign in to Google Friend Connect and follow blogs. At the same time, we’ll remove non-Google Account profiles so you may see a decrease in your blog follower count."

So, just in case it happened to you too: please know it's not you, it's Google. And if you were following here with a non Google Account, please also know that this option is no longer available. May I suggest Bloglovin or Feedly? Or you can sign up for email updates. Thank you.

The Steam Cleaner, the Socks and JD Salinger

..with huge and grateful thanks to everyone who left a message on Monday. My Mum is still in hospital, but improving.

It's quite a drive to visit, so I'm continuing to be grateful for a bit of uncomplicated knitting to unwind to when I get back. This sock thing: it's going to be a hard habit to break. There is a tantalising variety of different heel types and toes and laces and cables to try. How many? How long is a ball of yarn? 

Do you think a Great Big Sock Off would work? I was thinking about it as I knitted in front of Great British Bake Off last night (edible boxes of biscuits..where would you start?) 

"This week, Sian, we want you to make an Estonian Crossroads sock, with half handkerchief heel and a wedge toe"

I'd definitely need sock blockers for that: nice wooden ones (ooh, yes please, Etsy), not the plastic ones (no thanks, Amazon), to sit and look craftsy and decorative on my work station. Can you tell I've been looking? That's how they know it's a serious addiction round here, when I start buying equipment. Like sock blockers (to help pull the cast off socks into shape and make them look properly finished). I'm not a gadget kind of girl. I don't have a cricut or a cameo, or a cuttlebug, or even a heat gun though I do have lots of paper. Likewise, I have piles of yarn, but I buy darning needles, stitch markers, row counters as I go, if I absolutely can't avoid it. So sock blockers would be quite a step.

It's funny, though: once you buy one piece of equipment, and discover that it actually works and that's why there's a market for them and why people spend their Sunday afternoons queuing in Argos,..it's a slippery slope to fully tooled up living. I bought a steam cleaner the other day. It steams, it cleans, its usage is weirdly addictive. When I'm finished here I might turn it on again and try another one of my attachments..

But only after I've hit the button and ordered the sock blockers. I'm sure they'd make my life a whole lot better. When they arrive I'll get some eye rolling round here, I don't doubt it. But they know they're fighting a losing battle

When we were on holiday we spent an afternoon out on the deck of the ship, just reading. Very pleasant it was. I had to keep biting my tongue, though, because my book was full of interesting things I wanted to share..and often when I do that I find my interesting things just aren't as ..interesting to everyone else.

"I'll make you a bet," said The Accountant. "I'll bet you that the next thing you read out of your book will not be as interesting, as pertinent, as relevant to your life right now as the next thing I read you from my book"

I glanced over. Ardennes 1944. Easy. I couldn't imagine what I needed to know out of that. "Okay," I said. Go ahead.."

"Did you know," he said, "Did you know trench foot was such a danger that JD Salinger's Mum used to send him a fresh pair of hand knitted socks every single week?"

Ah. yes. Good one. Mrs Salinger: I salute you.

Late One Night: A Scrapbook Page For Halloween

It was a dark and stormy night.

What's that? You think I need a more original opening? But it was a dark and stormy night, and it was All Hallows Eve and things were turning a little weird on the Fair family Half Term outing.

It had started out well enough. Those were the days when a trip to Ikea meant two hours on the ferry, three hours in the car, and a borrowed trailer to bring home our treasure. But we liked that. It was an adventure. Story tapes, colouring books, plenty of snacks and we all got there happy. And after our traditional trip to Burger King and a night in the local Travelodge we would get up the next morning full of high anticipation. Flat packs get us that way. What can I say? We took this trip several half terms, bringing back catalogues so friends could place orders for next time round. hey, we had a whole trailer to fill.

And fill it we did. Everyone piled back into the car, furry black bat from Children's Ikea in one hand, sticky spider sweets from the Swedish Shop in the other (it was Halloween, don't forget), and we started the drive back to the boat. We had this thing down to a fine art. We thought. Timed exactly. We knew when to leave Ikea, when to stop for fish and chips on the way, when we would arrive at the ferry terminal to meet the evening sailing. We drove and we drove and we drove on a bit more. And we listened to the story of Meg and Mog's Halloween over and over again. We stopped for tea and we drove and the darkness started to creep in and the suddenly it was black. As we passed through the villages on our route we spotted small Trick Or Treaters slipping in and out of the fog, For there was a swirling mist now, and the rain was coming on. It couldn't have been any darker, out there in the countryside, just us on the road..

Except that, all of a sudden, it was. Much, much darker, inside the car at least. A black blankness ahead of us. The dashboard lights had gone out. We crossed our fingers and waited. I gave the dashboard a little tap. Then I thumped it. We had headlights and wipers, but the dashboard was gone. And that makes quite a difference on a dark night. We could see very little inside the car. But wait - we did have a torch

I turned it on and from the passenger seat I was able to hold it above the steering wheel and once again we could see what speed we were going at. We drove on. And you know, for a little bit it worked. We made progress through that blanket of black. We passed through another little village  "Oh, look, Robbie Burns cottage," I said. "I've never noticed that before". I peered through the fog at the little white house with the thatched roof.

Wait. I really hadn't noticed that before. Never passed it. ever. So now we were on the wrong road, on Halloween night, with no dashboard lights and a torch to show us the way. I'm sure I heard a cackle drifting out from among the trees. An owl hooted.

"Dad, Dad, are we there yet? Are we at the boat?"

Inside the car the torch flickered and the colour drained from Dad's face.

"I don't understand it," he said. "It was six o'clock the last time I checked and it's coming up on seven now. Where's the last hour go? We'll never make the boat in time. We've lost an hour. We're in a twilight zone..."

And then the torch went out.

What else can I tell you? We made it through. We found the right road. Maybe I closed my eyes for a bit. But within minutes, it seemed, the lights of the harbour appeared mirage-like and magical and we drove onto the ferry. By midnight we were carrying two sleeping children up to bed and unloading our trailer. It had been an unusual Halloween Night. But isn't that the way Halloween is supposed to be?

King of his Castle

or, The Hamster's Home.

Except that it isn't really, of course. Not his actual home. He lives in the cage bequeathed to him by the late and much lamented Gary. Gary was our first hamster: a Christmas gift requested by The (Not So) Small One and chosen with care by her loving aunt. As handsome a Ginger as you'd find anywhere. Gary, I mean, not the aunt, who, by coincidence, is also ginger and - you know what? today feels like a ramblin' kind of a day. Let's get back to the point. Meet Craig.

Craig is hamster number two. Now, where Gary was quiet, Craig is loud, where Gary was (and there's no gentle way to say this) lazy, Craig never stops. Who would have thought it? hamsters aren't all the same! Craig is a man's man. And that has turned out to be a good thing here, in a house run by women. The only man left has been glad of a bit of male bonding now that The Tall One is out of town. How do you bond with a hamster? Well, it's not, as my Grandma might have said, for want of trying.

They spend a lot of time together in the evenings: sometimes in their study, where one works on his computer and one works on breaking through his bars; and sometimes in front of the television, when one carries the other, in his cage, upstairs and sets him in front of Great British Sewing Bee, or whatever else the girls are enjoying. On special occasions Craig chews more frantically even than usual at the latch of his cage and we all agree that he is asking to play in his castle.

Ah, the castle. I bought it as a kind of joke Christmas present - you know, when you're looking for extras and you run out of inspiration and end up paying too much money for too few pieces of cardboard? - but, it has turned out to be fun. Putting it together kept everyone occupied for an evening. Or two. And now the entertainment comes from - well. catching Craig. He climbs up and down, then he breaks free, then we catch him, castle him again, it goes on until one side or the other gets fed up. Sometimes Craig tires first and he climbs back into his cage entirely of his own free will. Sometimes girl power wins out and we run downstairs for an apple to bribe them with. And when that happens, then the castle gets tucked behind the sofa til next time. 

It's a small thing, but it's been worth a post and a page to get the pictures of Craig off the phone and into print. he's fast, very hard to photograph, but that might be about to change. Ever heard of a hamster lead? Oh, yes, there was more than one hamster related gift this Christmas...

January's Last Gasp

"So", said The (Not So) Small One, "you know when people ask you questions on your blog, do you answer them, or what?"

"Ah," I said. "Funny you should ask, because I had just been thinking today that sometimes a catch up, round up, whatever you'd like to call it, would be a good idea. if I can, I'll most often email a reply to a question. Occasionally I'll leave a comment in my comments under the post, but I'm not so keen on that. I'm not sure anyone ever has the time to come back and check.

Remember the book post a couple of weeks back? I did get questions about those remainders lists."

"Ha! You see, not everyone lives with an old librarian," she said. "We don't all think about where to buy more books all the time."

"Now, steady on," I said. "Less of the old for a start. These were Granny's books we were talking about here. The ones she buys for presents. I hadn't put the links in Five Books By My Bedside because - and I know this sounds funny - I had in my head  the picture of Granny thumbing through those paper catalogues she gets in the post. She phones up to order. Quick! Send more books! I think she probably says. But of course you can order the other way "

 and for any other UK readers interested, Granny buys her books at Bibliophile and Postscript and The Book People.

"Yeah," said The (Not So) Small One, "that moustache knitting book was great. I'm thinking of wearing mine in Chemistry next week. I might dare my friend Sian to wear one too."

"Aha," I said. "Your friend Sian. Now a story about Sian..that would come under the category of new blog stuff. Not catch up. So maybe my other catch up thing today would be my page about the Guinness crisps."

"Ugh. Gag. Not the Guinness crisps, Mum."

Oh, yes. The Guinness crisps. I like them, even if nobody else does. And now I've recorded that. Because that's what I do.

Towards February, folks! Let's hope it's a good one!

iTrouble

There's always something -  isn't there? - right after Christmas/ needing batteries, or taken out of the box and set up, played about with. I've been due a phone upgrade for months and it has finally arrived. But moving everything over? Managing change? That's a teenagers game

Border from a piece of new October Afternoon Daily Flash Milk Money - the perfect collection for someone whose parents were teachers. It''ll keep me going until the Public Library collection finally appears!

So I left them to it. Last time this happened, Little E looked me straight in the eye and said

"You don't know how to go to the app store, do you Auntie Sian?"

and there's only one answer to that:

"You don't know how to make a telephone out of two tin cans and a piece of string, do you ?" 

Hope your weekend is turning out to be a good one. There's a snowy sky here - we need to get out for a walk before it starts, I think!

That Thing You (Don't) Do

Only a week til Christmas Eve? We're getting excited here! That big lad of ours is flying home on Thursday, and by Monday, Uncle Dave will be back all the way from across the pond. The tree is decorated and Little E's fish tank (Nemo, not SpongeBob) is wrapped and ready. 

There are still some bits to be tidied up. I made a batch of white chocolate and cherry fudge last night and, you know how it is, you can't eat and wash dishes at the same time, something has to give. I don't mind Christmas detritus most of the time. Usually it's fun. But I'm only human: sometimes I'll look at a gorgeously styled seasonal scene in a magazine and think - maybe next year.

There's always a little something I've never managed to get round to. You know, those things the magazines suggest? in a checklist?

- little gift baskets beside the guest bed. If I'm feeling uber-hostess-y Uncle Dave might get a bottle of mineral water and a tin of mince pies

- Bucks Fizz for breakfast. One of these years we'll do it. We are moving towards sophistication now that I've persuaded everyone their favourite starter is smoked salmon - when it's on special offer in M&S

- An all white Christmas table. It just looks so good in those magazine photos! and it's closely related to a

- Colour  coordinated Christmas tree. We have a throw-everything-on- it tree

..but wait. I like that throw-everything-on-it tree. It means the beautiful star Honore sent me this year - and the gorgeous snowman from Becky - both fit in perfectly. Perfectly?  Perfectly? Have I got there after all? Now, there's a thought...

What about you? Any dreams you have pulled from a magazine?

I Can't See..

..Little E. I'm afraid my model has deserted me for the day. He's very busy sorting out WHO he's going to be dressed up as for Halloween (and there's a clue in that). I've finished his monkey hat and, as he isn't around, I took it out to the garden for a picture. Though I have never seen a monkey clothes pegged in a flower bed. Wait, doesn't that sound like a game?

Why, Little E, it sounds like YOUR game. I haven't told you about Little E's game? Ah, well, over the summer Little E invented a wordgame of his very own. Great for car trips, or sitting in the bath, or going for walks with. It's simple, it doesn't need cards or dice or three hundred small plastic pieces. Want to play? All you have to do is finish up this sentence with the most outrageous activity you can think of....like this...

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A BABY........

- chasing elephants round the London Underground

(usually he starts small..)

- roller skating across a duck pond while wearing a cowboy hat

(and then he builds..)

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A BABY...

- wearing his pyjamas and eating noodles in a pumpkin patch

(sometimes he likes to add a little colour)

-eating oranges whilst pogo-ing through a hot, green jungle

(or throw in a little something he'd like to try himself)

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A BABY...

- cycling backwards through a shopping centre in the dark of night

I'd like to see him have a go at that one. And he'd like to see you have a go at I HAVE NEVER SEEN A BABY. How outrageous can you get? Go on, dare that baby to go wild....

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A BABY..

Dinosaur. Roar.

Auntie Sian; if you asked me about going to the museum today, but not in the car, only on the bus, I think I would say yes

Oh, I see. Little E, how do you fancy going to the museum, but not in the car, only on the bus?

Auntie Sian. I'm saying....YES!

Auntie Sian: if I said that maybe I might be a little bit scared, but that I wasn't going to run away would you say that's alright?

Little E, I'd say, let's hold hands. I think we'll be just fine.

Little E, if you eat your lunch up like a good boy I would say let's go and have a look for a small something in the gift shop. 

...and then I would say oh, yes, the woolly mammoths are the nicest. Though not the smallest...

Auntie Sian, if you asked my Mum if she thought it was going home time and could we get back on the bus, I'm sure she'd say DEFINITELY.

And that is the story of an unexpected Wednesday trip to the museum and of our first capture for Rinda's Summertime Photography Scavenger Hunt (check it out!). Number 20: a dinosaur.

And in the End There are Dreaming Pants

Oh, Little E, with your head in the clouds. ..

I've always thought of that nephew of mine (you know the one: winning smile, Very Wise Glasses), as a man with his feet on the ground. he knows what's what, does Little E. But, it turns out, he's a dreamer too.

He loves a good sleepover, for a start. Take the one he had at Granny's a couple of weeks back. I heard they spent most of the day playing taxis. Which means that Little E climbed into the driver's seat of Granny's special take-my-wheelchair-anywhere van, and Granny sat beside, in her wheelchair on the drive while they travelled. To the moon, to the Post Office, to Kathmandu, most probably to the sweet shop. And, at the end of it all, he put on his pyjamas, crawled onto his camping mattress and fell fast asleep.

We managed to wear him out the day he was with us, too.

"Dad, your Play date is here," said The (Not So) Small One, looking out of the window at the small boy clambering out of his parents car. And within minutes her father had bustled Little E into the garden to do Man Stuff. 

"Mum, you've got to come and see this," The (Not So) Small One came running back round the corner. "He's actually making him work. They're pouring sand into all the holes in the drive. But worse than that...they're wearing matching outfits. It's like something out of The Chuckle Brothers. I'm going to take a picture."

So she did.

And then they worked on, and it was time for Little E to go home, and within five minutes of his getting into the car, I got a text from his Mum. Good Job. He's fast asleep.

Not all texts are like that, though. last week there was word of A Very Bad Day. It's terrible! Teddy Pippin got left in McDonalds and he's gone. No one will sleep in our house tonight..

It was true. Teddy Pippin had vanished; and, despite everyone's very best efforts, he couldn't be found. We were all gutted. Little E tried to be brave, but he was sad, no doubt about it, and sleeping was hard. Until his auntie and his cousin on the other side came to the rescue. Teddy Pippin had come from their house in the first place, and it turned out that they had another one: loved, but outgrown, and now passed on by a very kind cousin. You rock, Molly! And so harmony was restored. sleep was back on the to-do list.

Life settled back down to normal and Little E found some time for a bit of shopping: new underpants. He slipped them on with some satisfaction, admired himself and looked up at his Mum, with a smile on his face..

"They are," he said, They are Great Dreaming Pants"

I could do with some Dreaming Pants of my own. Couldn't you?

If I had a pair, I expect they would make it to Storytelling Sunday. Thank you for the stories so far this month. Don't forget you have until next Sunday to write your story and add your link. Newcomers, old timers, everyone is very welcome!

For Little E, of course, but with a wave to another little boy I know: one with a big new bed and some new pyjamas. You sleep tight, too!

Here's the Latest

Fast news from a fast week..nothing here seems to be standing still even for a minute...

• Latest Favourite Waste of Time: trying to pull jammed paper out of the shredder with a pair of tweezers. Kind of fun in a challenging paper-y way, but ultimately useless. The shredder is still broken.
• Latest Favourite Emergency Text Message: Mum, teachers not liking non-uniform thing. Pls bring trousers and tie to school. Now. That was last week. Course I helped him out.
• Latest Favourite Creative Kick Start: a desk in a new place. Downstairs. The only problem is that everyone else is fancying the change now too. I'm booking time slots.
• Latest Favourite Way to get Out of Cooking the Dinner: Volunteer to keep The (Not So) Small One company while she rehearses her Home Economics Practical Exam. I knit, she cooks,; and I'm not even allowed to help with the washing up because that's part of her test and she's timing herself.
• Latest Favourite Item of Clothing: new blue and white gingham shirt with slightly puffed sleeves. A little bit like my school summer dress when I was six. I'm saving it up for the right day.
• Latest favourite TV: The Century That Wrote Itself with Adam Nicholson
• Latest Favourite Craft Book: Boyfriend Sweaters by Bruce Weinstein. Great classic patterns; and he tells a lovely story at the end about wearing and losing his Father's sweater. Be perfect for Storytelling Sunday. 
• Latest Favourite Thing to look Forward to: Seeing Stockholm and returning to Norway.
• Latest Favourite Family Observation: I don't actually have any strong feelings on the subject of lop sided badgers. From The (Not So) Small One, on being forced to watch The Century..

and

• Latest Storytelling Sunday: Don't forget, you have all week to add your link! I know some of you have been away over the Bank Holiday. We have a great collection of stories ready and waiting for you right here - and if you only have time for one, how about hopping over to Mitra's and helping out with a neat school project?
• Latest Swap News: It sounds as if the swapping has begun! Some of you have let me know that your parcels are in the post. Thank you. Some of you have also noted that you haven't heard from your partners yet. Everyone, please do get in touch..we want to take this thing right round the world.

Let's Swap!

One Day I'll Get My Own Bat Signal

Hey Bat fans!

..or maybe not? Here's a random fact about me: I love Batman movies. 

Any director, any actor: I've watched them all, many, many times. My Bat Companion in this is The Tall One, who sees it as his duty (when his Mum is looking frazzled) to put a DVD in the slot and steer me towards the sofa. We like the newer ones, we like the older ones; and we both have a sneaking admiration for Val Kilmer in the role, though we know that puts us in the minority.

I made The (Not So) Small One a Poison Ivy costume, once, with dozens of felt leaves sewn onto layers of green net. Have I ever borrowed it? You shouldn't ask me a question like that...

Round here they say I drive like I'm in my own Batmobile; but actually what I'd really like is my own Bat Signal. How cool would that be? They clubbed together and bought me a Martha Stewart bat punch for Mother's Day this year, just in case I wanted to get started on making my own. Signal, that is.

Instead, I used it to get me started on a page I've been meaning to make for at least a year now. It's all thanks to "Look Up, Look Down Helena", who, some time ago now, was lucky enough to be in New York when parts of The Dark Knight Rises were being filmed there. I left an envious comment when I saw the photos on her blog. I turned green, let's be honest, and it wasn't because I was wearing my Poison Ivy costume. I told her...

..and within minutes a photo landed in my inbox. It was a Bat Photo all of my very own and seriously? I think it's one of the most clever things anyone has ever given me. 

One of the Gotham City Police Dept Cops says: " Why did the Chief call out all the boys?"

and the other one replies: "Sian had to go back to the library, but she told us to keep an eye out for possible stories"

She what I mean? Of course I love it! So I had to make a layout and here it is: with a bit of a mad mix of  library ephemera and cartoon characters. Serious and funny, dark and light. That's Gotham for you.

Have a great weekend everyone.

Taking Tea with Little E

So, Little E, that rapscallion of a nephew of mine, turned four. He's a busy, busy boy these days, what with nursery school and world domination an' all. He has been on holiday, too: away to the sun for a few days. And it suited him just fine - for a couple of hours - until he realised how much he missed chicken nuggets and a bit of light vacuuming in the afternoons Plus, seeing Teddy Pippin go through the X-ray machine in the airport? That's just plain unsettling..

He told me all about it over a Happy Meal round at Granny's. The chat was excellent, the food was good, but the free toy wasn't living up to his high-fun expectations. "These aren't Googly Eyes, Auntie Sian, they're just - eyes." 

So I moved forward by asking him what else he had been up to. He went on a Leprechaun Hunt for St. Patrick's Day (but I can't show you the picture of that..someone in the party, who really needs to remain nameless, was asked to dress up as the aforementioned leprechaun and is probably still waking up in a cold sweat thinking about it). He got a new Doctor Outfit (but I won't show you the picture of that..because the gleam in his eye makes him look like Steve Martin as the Dentist in Little Shop of Horrors). He likes to wear a Chef's hat and bake buns (and if I show you that picture, my budding chef here will be asking me why). But, most fun of all?

He's building his own boat. And who knows where it will take him.

A Hoover of a Halloween

As you know, Little E often phones for a chat. He always has something useful to say. Lately, though, he's been so busy he hasn't had much of a chance to get to the phone. Take the other morning: he was caught up in running his handbag shop. Wouldn't you love to be three again? When you could take any career path you chose and no one would laugh?

So, he didn't stop for a yarn. But when that happens I sometimes get a follow up text message instead...

...half an hour later it arrived. With his Mum's help, of course.

I'm getting ready to open Christmas*. Can you make me a beard, please?

*"opening Christmas" = when the preparations start. See this post

Now, don't tell. I haven't started the beard yet. I'm waiting to find exactly the right sort of fluffy white fur to make supreme Santa whiskers;

and so instead today I have a photo I was sent of Little E's Halloween costume, custom crafted from a red plastic tablecloth by his loving Mum and Dad. He's very fond of Henry Hoover, is Little E. Maybe when the handbag market goes down he'll move into vacuum cleaners. People will always need vacuum cleaners..

Little E Talks Girls

Little E is a man of the world. And he has his fans. You already know that. He's pretty good at putting up with us cuddling him, but every bloke has his breaking point..

..when a little girl his own age decided she wanted to take their relationship to the next level with a big kiss, Little E ran. He fell over. It was sore.

At three, Little E has discovered the pain love can bring.

"Girls," said Little E, "girls make my head hurt"

Feeling better, in the park with his cousin. Photo processed with the Halftone app

The Reaction to the Attraction

We're starting to think about getting away from it all here at HIgh in the Sky. Another couple of weeks and school will be out and we'll be free.

I've been making plans: something for right here on the blog (it's coming together nicely and I hope you'll enjoy it) - but those other kind of plans too. You know the ones - making sure everyone has had a haircut; buying an extra card for the camera; deliberating over whether last year's sun cream will do or whether I really need to shop for fresh stuff at inflated prices..

I pulled out my writing-in-on-holiday notebook and was delighted to find a couple of observations and conversations I'd forgotten about. Hurray for writing things down! One centred around the reaction to the attraction. Everyone in the family sees a thing slightly differently, don't they? A couple of years back we went to Bath to see - the Roman Baths. Can you guess who in this family might have said -

- "Oer, I was nearly in the water there. My rucksack's dragging me down.."

or

- "These statues were only made a hundred years ago. That's not very Roman at all. I want my money back."

or

- "Where's the shop? I've got enough for a sharpener and a pencil and some stickers and.."

or

- "I can smell damp. I can feel dry rot. It'll cost a fortune to put this right.."

Ah, you can tell a lot about someone by the way they do their sightseeing

..and every evening I went back to the tent and wrote about by the light of the lamp