If truth be known Lilli and I took this walk a few days ago… but I don’t think that photos of the 6 hours I’ve spent in the car today would be very interesting.

I drove No 3 to the airport and I miss him already.  I know he’s going to have a blast staying at my parents… two doting grandparents and a 4lb chocolate egg.  Yes… 2 Kg of chocolate and no brothers to have to share it with… I mean… this is the stuff that dreams are made off when you’re eleven, right?

I feel a bit lost… I don’t like it when I don’t have all my chicks around me.  The empty nest thing?  I’m dreading it.

Anyway, it was a lovely morning and we had a lovely walk, come with us.

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That is THE tree.  You have to walk to the tree and sit on one of the benches and rest when you get there, look at the view, feel the wind in your face, think for a while and only then you can walk back.

It’s the law.

Trust me.

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Let’s talk about knitting.

‘Boxy’ has been on my to do list for years.  It’s a simple sweater, mainly stockinette, loose fitting (essential) with tight sleeves and pretty details on the shoulders.  What’s not to like?

Also is THE perfect watching-tv-whilst-knitting project because there are miles and miles, weeks and weeks, of stockinette stitch and if you like me opt for the ‘in the round’ version… you hardly need to look down.

It’s not finished.

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But since the photos were taken yesterday the neck band is done and my head passes through it… always a bonus.

Last night I had also finished one sleeve but I’m annoyed to say that it’ll have to be frogged and re-knitted bigger.

Doh.

Too tight.  Not enough blood flowing to my hand.

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I only had metal dpns in the required size and with those I always knit really tight otherwise they slip off… need to find some bamboo/wooden ones asap.

The marvellous thing is that it fits.  It fits perfectly and I can’t wait to get it all done and wear it in this still cold mornings.  (We’re entering the most annoying time of the year… where the temperature difference between morning and afternoon is more than 10C… drives me potty.  I end up changing clothes twice a day,  otherwise I either freeze in the morning or melt in the afternoon).  (High class worries, shut up Monica).

What about you…. whatcha knitting?

 

PS.  all technical details/info at the big reveal.

 

Avocado – Persea Americana – Alligator pear…

Not a huge fan.

I’m ok with a guacamole dip… mainly because of the tortilla chips though…

I think it’s the mushy texture.  Slimy too.  It’s weird, come on admit it, you avocado-philes out there.   None of us in the family are huge fan… in fact it was the only food that No 3 ever spat out in disgust as a baby.

Anyway, I keep hearing sooooooo much about how good it is for you blah blah blah that I bought two yesterday.

Two.  Not one, two.  And I’m going to try doing stuff with them both.

Today’s experiment involved a mashed up concoction on toast from the book ‘Every Day ‘ by Deliciously Ella.  Olive oil, chilli powder and lime juice.  I used baguette instead of toast and have to admit… it was really good.

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Will do it again for sure and it’ll be perfect for those morning I fancy a savoury breakfast.

The other half of the first avocado went into the oven.

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With an egg on top.

Not entirely successful as experiments go… I baked it for too long and I should have scooped out more of the avo flesh: the whole was too small and a lot of the egg is not stuck to the bottom of the dish.  I suspect forever.

What a surprise… I actually genuinely loved the taste of both.  Who would have thought…  I might actually have to stop saying I don’t like the things.

Funny that.

 

The second avocado will go into smoothies… I think.

 

 

(Ali? it’s not going to happen with rocket or raisins… don’t even think about it)

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When I was younger ‘clogs’ were our summer shoes.  The feeling of bare feet on the wooden sole, the feeling of being taller… the clippety cloppety noise…  it reminds me of my childhood.   Maybe it only happened a handful of times, or even ones and my mind is playing tricks with me… but either way I’m very fond of clogs.

I have an uncle that wears clogs.  Usually navy ones.  And a fedora, although not at the same time.  He used to drive a yellow 2CV and eats apples core and all, down to the last pip, leaving only the stalks.   He shares a birthday with Bilbo Baggins.

If you don’t know who Bilbo Baggins is… go and do some research!

I’m digressing as usual.

When I saw these clogs on the Lotta from Stockholm website it was love at first sight.

The leather is supple, and they’re very comfortable.  Admittedly I shouldn’t have worn them for the first time without socks walking around London for hours… but that’s my fault, not theirs.

Yesterday I had them on all day without a sniff of a blister.  And I always get blisters with any shoes.  Rubbish feet.

I have a pair of clog sandals too that are very very comfortable (they passed the all day in London with flying colours)

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These are from Moheda and they’re about to enter their third summer.

 

But my absolute favourite in the whole wide world are Bryr Clogs… Seriously.  They are beautiful… and a little bit expensive I know … sigh… but a girl can dream, right?

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Sigh

Talking of clogs and wooden soles… my mum used to always wear Dr Scholl’s sandals… was it just a thing in Italy in the 70s?  What happened to them?  Let’s bring them back!

 

… I couldn’t sleep last night…

Acquainted with the night (Robert Frost)

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain – and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

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The husband and I abandoned our children yesterday and took the train to the big smoke.

(We didn’t really abandon them.  My sister was in charge)

(Actually you could say we abandoned her with them… but everybody survived so it’s all good)

First stop in our whistle stop 24 hours of freedom was the Hockney exhibition at the Tate Britain.  Highly recommended.  Amazing.  Inspiring.

It’s been years since I’d been at the Tate Modern and it was a real pleasure.

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Really cool light installation by Ceryth Wyn Evans too.  (you can read more about it here).

There’s something about art museum that I find strangely calming and restorative.

We had lunch  – oh the joy of an unhurried lunch… – at Milos.  Mouth-watering grilled  octopus starter… mmmhhh…

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… and perhaps a delicious glass of icy cold greek white… shhh…

We were staying at The Gore Hotel, near the Royal Albert Hall, and our room “The Judy Garland Suite”… was bonkers.  Everything our house isn’t, which was fun.  For a night.

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In the evening we rendezvous with lovely friends and enjoyed a night of (more) delicious food (more) wine and lots and lots of music at the Royal Albert Hall.

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Paul Weller is Mr M’s favourite artist (all the way back from the Jam days and then The Style Council… ) so he was in Paul heaven.

This morning…

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… after a gorgeous breakfast of egg florentine (me) and full English (Mr M) …

we walked…

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and ‘tubed’ it…

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… and walked again to the Tate Modern…  (don’t you love London? I mean… in the picture above there are so many different styles of buildings jammed together… so eclectic…)

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(first time on the Millennium Bridge for me… I’m easily pleased)

We managed to catch the last day of the Rauschenberg exhibition… very cool.

Retrospectives on artists are always fascinating; it’s so interesting to see how an artist evolves throughout his life.  More often than not we are familiar with one particular stage, don’t you think?  Take Hockney, for example… I always thought about he swimming pool paintings… or his famous portraits of people like Ozzy Clark and Celia Birtwell.. but there is so much more.. his works with photographs are amazing and his latest paintings and works with videos is so interesting…  With Rauschember … same thing… I always thought about his screen printed pictures (which I LOVE)… and didn’t know about his amazing collages and his foray into dance and scenography and sculptures…

Stupidly I ‘forgot’, for want of a better word, that art is not static, that artists always look at different ways to express themselves …  The last two days were a good reminder.

 

Good times, folks.  Most excellent 24 hours.  We made it home tired but re-charged, do you know what I mean?

 

 

 

Yesterday I went to the cinema with my sister in law.

During the day!

Why is it that going to the cinema at lunchtime feels so… naughty? I mean… we only went to see Beauty and the Beast after all!

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What a sweet sweet movie.  (… although… Dan Stevens at the end looks so… unmanly in human form… better as a beast!   And I’m a huge Dan Stevens fan from the days of Downton Abbey when he played Mary’s first husband.).

Anyway, that’s by the by, my favourite thing in the movie was the costumes.   Amazing.  So many beautiful fabric… lots and lots of stitches too (like the Kantha stitches in my scarf in the above photo);  I loved the ‘denim’ bodice/dress that Bella wears (was my waist ever as tiny as Emma Watson’s?  I don’t think so!)…  18th Century France with modern twists here and there.  Really fabulous.

Be warned though… the tunes?  Will get stuck in your head and you’ll be likely to bellow out …tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme… beauty and the beast…  in Tourette like fashion at any time for at least 24 hours afterwards…  I’m still going.

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I ordered a new camera that should be delivered today.  I’m saying ‘should’ because it ‘should’ have been delivered yesterday… whatever.   When I took my old one for a ‘service’ the dude at the shop told me it wasn’t worth paying a £70 service charge for a £40 camera.  How rude.

So I went for a new one, after weeks of agonising research – why do they have to be so complicated? –   It’s not the newest model because let’s face it… I don’t really care about 4K video recording, even if the boys tell me that’s where it’s at.  I won’t be starting to vlog anytime soon.  God forbid.  Can you imagine?

 

I went to the theatre to see The Crucible (play by Arthur Miller about the witch trials in Salem, Ma).  Mesmerising.  Not a laugh a minute.  Not a laugh at all actually… but so so powerful.  Amazing.

 

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No 2’s hockey team has made it to the Nationals Finals for the second year in a row.  So proud of those kids.

Yes, my stomach is churning already.  Six weeks to go.  I’ll be a wreck.

 

Now go on and be busy, I’ve got stuff to do too… Toodles!

 

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My daily walks with Lilli the ferocious beast are a slow affair.

She sniffs everything.  I remember specifically asking for a female dog because I didn’t want one that stopped at every lamppost, if you know what I mean… and karma rewarded me with one that has to smell every blade of grass, every gate post, every flipping inch of the pavement.

The upside to this ‘slowness’  is that I have plenty of time to look around and take in what’s going on… from the little old lady with badly died hair and an enormous fleece jacket decorate with wolves faces… to the students who never wear coats even in the dead of winter… to the new mums proudly pushing shiny prams…(people watching is fascinating)…

I’ve also started to notice the little plaques on the walls of old houses and being as nosey as I am… I started taking pictures and looking into their story.

A ‘Blue Plaque’ is a sign installed on a building to link it with a particular famous person or event; it’s a historical marker.  They first started in London in the 19th century.  William Ewart a politician at the time launched the scheme in 1863 and it has since expanded throughout the United Kingdom.  (According to Wikipedia… take it as you will)

There 59 of them in this town alone.  (She smirks… be prepared… just saying…)

I love a blue plaque.  I see it as a link from the past to the now and to the future and also who doesn’t like a good bit of trivia?

Of course for every rule… blah blah… some historical plaques are not blue… whatever.

The latest one is actually quite close to my house, and it’s bronze… but the dribble from the rain stained the Cotswold stone of the building blue so we’re ok.

William Charles Macready was an ‘actor’ born in London in 1793, son of a theatre Agent in the Bristol circuit (so not far from here) and had all intention of studying law but when his father went to prison for debt he had to abandon is dreams and step into the family business.

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Some say this is what made him bitter and arrogant and a little bit difficult to work with (I’m paraphrasing… some of his fellow actors weren’t so polite!).  He was a popular actor and played a lot of Shakespeare (for which he reverted to the original text, rather than the bastardised versions popular at the time) and by all accounts he made Covent Garden history by being the first actor to be summoned to a  curtain call by an enthusiastic audience.

He also ended up managing the Covent Garden Theatre and the Drury Lane theatre and to his credit was a champion of ‘modern’ British Theatre, although he was more and more frustrated by the resistance he encountered.

Twice he toured the United States very successfully but his second trip was marred but the tragic events of Astor Theatre riots.  He had a huge ongoing rivalry with the American actor Edwin Forrest and their reciprocal fan clashed violently… the police got involved and 17 people died.  Tragic.

I guess the modern equivalent would be… what?… George Clooney’s army clashing with Brad Pitt’s fan?  Blood bath at the Oscar’s?  Bonkers.

The last line in Macready’s diary after his last stage appearance was: “Thank God”.  Thank God for all he had achieved?  Thank God it was over?   We’ll never know.

 

Anyway, there you have it.  Tuesday history lesson.

Have a good day.

 

 

 

Yesterday was mother’s day here in the UK and this poem seem rather fitting to the occasion.

I love watching my children… when they were little I wasted days simply ‘watching them’… marvelling at the fact that they didn’t exist until I made them… do you know what I mean?  They always seemed like a miracle.  (Right now there are times it’s a miracle they’re still alive, but that’s a conversation for another day!)

I still do love watching them, which is probably why I don’t REALLY mind living through 15 hockey matches in 8 days or freezing my feet on a cold rugby sideline.. (ask me at the end of the  soon to start cricket season though and you might get a different answer..).

Also… don’t tell them.  When they’re 6’2″ and got a razor for Christmas… it sounds a little bit creepy.

 

The light gatherer (Carol Ann Duffy)

When you were small, your cupped palms
each held a candleworth under the skin, enough light to begin,
and as you grew,
light gathered in you, two clear raindrops
in your eyes,
warm pearls, shy,
in the lobes of your ears, even always
the light of a smile after your tears.
Your kissed feet glowed in my one hand,
or I’d enter a room to see the corner you played in
lit like a stage set,
the crown of your bowed head spotlit.
When language came, it glittered like a river,
silver, clever with fish,
and you slept
with the whole moon held in your arms for a night light
where I knelt watching.
Light gatherer. You fell from a star
into my lap, the soft lamp at the bedside
mirrored in you,
and now you shine like a snowgirl,
a buttercup under a chin, the wide blue yonder
you squeal at and fly in,
like a jewelled cave,
turquoise and diamond and gold, opening out
at the end of a tunnnel of years. 

 

Last night Mr M and I had a mini date before going off to separate engagements.  Me to the theatre with a friends, him to dinner with an old mate.

The newly renovated Wilson Museum here in Cheltenham was having a private viewing/opening night of their fantastic new exhibition in collaboration with the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

“Pop Art in Print”

I was kindly invited by So Glos and didn’t need to be asked twice!

Unfortunately we only had the time to give the works a quick glance, but I know we’ll be back with more time before the show closes at the beginning of June.

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You can see works by Warhol,  Blake, Caulfield, Hamilton and many many others… it’s a real feast for the eyes.

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And we’ll bring (drag) the boys too.

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Good job, Cheltenham.