Cake

November 25, 2008 - 15 Responses

As I write this, the oven is whirring away and the smell of Nigella’s Chocolate Cloud Cake is wafting through the air. Ooooh, it is diviiiiiiiiine…retribution for having a dirty oven. Sadly, the cake is long gone. It was made (and eaten) on Sunday and all that remains is what I am smelling now, some soon-to-be-burnt, chocolaty blobs at the bottom of my oven. If only I had removed them before putting the butternut squash in for lunch. It’s so unfair!

 

While I am on the subject of cake, I might as well show you one I made for my friends the other week. Three birthdays, one party and an empty purse meant I had to get a bit creative in the kitchen. This was the result:

 

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My friends brought to life in sugar paste. They all loved it, except for R (the heavy smoker), who I had depicted with a cigarette in his mouth. How was I supposed to know that he had stopped smoking a few days before and didn’t want to be reminded of his previous addiction?

 

“Nevermind,” said M, coming to the rescue. “I still like the odd puff now and again. Do you mind if I have it?”

 

And with that she lifted the offending white stick from the cake, popped it in her mouth, chewed on it for a bit then said,  “I can see why people give up. That was disgusting.”

 

Friends!

 

Wheelie useful

November 18, 2008 - 8 Responses

Brace yourselves. After several months without transport I have a new…wheelbarrow.

 

 

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Yes, that is my shopping inside. I love it. It is easy to park, builds muscles, costs nothing to run and is environmentally friendly. Ask your partner for one for Christmas. It is never too late to start saving the planet.

 

Ps. Kids love to ride in it too! Think of how many calories you could burn doing the school run (literally, if you are running late).

 

Reeling – Part 2

November 13, 2008 - 7 Responses

I have come to a decision. I am not going to confront my ex about K and her 6 yr old daughter (I forgot to mention that she has a daughter in my last post) moving in, I am going to wait for him to tell me. I have my reasons for this:

 

  1. If I initiate the conversation and an argument ensues, Sonny will feel to blame. As he is only 6, he is far too young to be having guilt trips over things he has said, or situations he has caused.
  2. My ex may tell Sonny off for telling me what goes on between him and K, and I wouldn’t want him to feel that he had to start keeping secrets, or to censor everything he said.
  3. If Sonny is happy with the situation (which I think he is) and my ownership rights remain unchanged (call to lawyer required), is it really such a big deal?

 

I suppose I am just annoyed that neither K nor my ex has had the decency to come and speak to me about it first – especially before they sat down and discussed it with the kids. To be honest, K probably doesn’t even know that I still own the house. My ex has always been very economical with the truth, and as we were never married, he could quite easily have said that the house belongs to him.

 

There are times when I wonder if K even knows why I left. If she did, she might not be so keen to move in. As my mum said, “give her six months, and she’ll be out of there like a shot.” That remains to be seen, but in the meantime I am going to take some legal advice and play this one very carefully indeed.

 

Reeling

November 12, 2008 - 11 Responses

A conversation over dinner with Sonny:

 

Sonny: “K is moving in with Papa.”

Me: “What do you mean?”

Sonny: “She is not going to live in her house anymore.”

Me: “Do you know when she is moving in?”

Sonny: “In December…I think.”

 

I knew this day would come, but I wasn’t quite sure how I would feel about it when it did. I suppose I have just been burying my head in the sand, hoping it never would. Now that it has, I am less than happy. It is not that I am still in love with my ex, it’s just that I don’t like the thought of another woman enjoying the comforts of my old home (which I still own 50/50 with my ex), while I am forced to rent a small flat 10 kms down the road. Is that petty of me?

 

Most of you will be wondering how I have managed to get myself into this situation? Why haven’t I taken my ex to court and forced him to sell, to give me my half? I could, I suppose, but I am just not ready yet. I know that as soon as I take this route my relationship with my ex will turn sour (very sour) and Sonny will suffer as a result.

 

I think I have made the right decision, but it still doesn’t make it easy.

 

 

Six things you may or may not want to know about me

November 5, 2008 - 7 Responses

I have been tagged by Hadriana’s Treasures to write 6 random things about myself. So here goes:

 

I used to work in a company where every employee was left-handed like me. They didn’t have a policy of employing lefties, it just seemed to happen that way.

 

I once got a PR job based purely on my handwriting. Several weeks later I was told by one of the firm’s partners (who was known for her forked tongue) that I was ‘a nobody’ because I hadn’t been to public school and didn’t talk with a ‘plummy’ accent. Seething, I plucked a copy of Debrett’s ‘People of Today’ off her bookshelf, flicked through the pages and pointed to my name within. “Oh, I had no idea,” she stuttered, her face getting redder by the minute. “Well, now you do,” I responded, as I stormed out of the room. I went straight to the other partner, told him what had happened and handed in my notice. He was shocked and begged me to stay, tears and all.  I refused and haven’t worked in PR since.

 

When I lived in my last house, there was an owl that would come and visit me in the middle of the night. It would sit on the window ledge and watch over me while I slept. I have been told that this is a bad omen. As the visits took place when I was going through hell with my ex, maybe there is some truth in this?

 

I have grade 6 in both piano and clarinet. My piano is still in my old house. I intend to reclaim it when I find somewhere more permanent to live. When I do, I am going to teach Sonny how to play.

 

I wash my face with olive oil, but cook with coconut oil (how random is that?)

 

I would like to have more children, but am not in the financial position to do so at the moment. I am hoping that I don’t run out of time.

 

Now that you know more about me, I have to spin the bottle and choose 6 fellow bloggers to do the same. And the lucky few are: 

 

France and the Unknown

Emmygration

East Anglian Troy

A Confused Take That Fan, 30

Highland Housewife

Mom or Mum Wars

And my disguise for halloween is…?

October 31, 2008 - 4 Responses

Beyonce (well, almost)

 

I have been having a hoot with www.faceinhole.com today. It is so easy to use. There are hundreds of bodies to choose from. Just upload pictures of your family and friends, then giggle as they morph into famous celebrities, cartoon characters, works of art or Amy Winehouse (now that’s scary).

 

Happy Halloween

 

 

Who would have thought it? (and with a dodgy ticker too!)

October 16, 2008 - 9 Responses

Imagine this. There is a lovely old man in your street who you say hello to most days. You know that he lives on his own so sometimes you stop to say more than hello. On one of these occasions, whilst admiring his garden, he invites you to come in and have a look around his house.

 

 “There are lots of original features,” he says, trying to tempt you.

 

As someone who loves architecture (and having a good nose around other people’s homes), you jump at the chance – he’s a 92 year old man with a heart problem after all…what could happen?

 

He leads you into the kitchen. “Very nice,” you say, looking at the original stone floor. Upstairs is the sitting room; a beautiful mantelpiece and some very nice antiques. Your eyes dance around the room taking it all in, and then they fall upon a pile of well flicked through porn mags (about 50, to hazard a guess) on a chair next to the fire. Pretending you haven’t seen them, you edge your way towards the door saying how lovely it has been to have had a look around and that it is probably time that you made your way home.

 

“But you haven’t seen the bedroom yet,” says the old man with a twinkle in his eye.

 

“Oh I think I have seen quite enough,” you say, hot-footing it down the stairs.

 

As you make your way into the street outside, you bid the old man farewell and thank him again for having shared his home (and possibly his private life) with you. You then head off down the road, trying not to think too much about what he might get up to after you have gone.

 

So you tell me. What do you think this lovely old French man uses this type of literature for: lighting his fire or ____________ ? On second thoughts, please don’t answer that. I really don’t want to know. Honest…I don’t.

 

 

  

Wordless Wednesday

October 15, 2008 - 8 Responses

 For once, Sonny is lost for words.

Or

(thanks to East Anglian Troy)

 

“Well Mama, can I call these Frogmen?”

 

A Fishy Tale

October 9, 2008 - 9 Responses

 “Sonny. Pass me the phone quickly. Mama needs help!”

 

 “Where is it?”

 

“Over there on the table. Hurry up. Come on, come on, come on!”

 

Sonny jumps off the sofa and hands me the phone. I flip it open, put it on loudspeaker (as I can’t bring it to my ear) and dial the boyfriend. It goes straight through to the answer phone. SHIT. I leave a message.

 

“Babe, it’s me. You have to come now. I really need your help. I am standing here holding a 100 litre fish tank that is about to crash through my sideboard and I can’t move. It’s already halfway through, balancing at a precarious angle, and I don’t have the strength to pull it back. Water is pouring all over the floor. Please come quickly.”

 

I look down at my feet. Water is trickling through my toes towards the open end of an extension cable in the corner of the room. It is plugged in. GULP. I think ‘hairdryer in a bathtub.’ Will I fry? I have no idea, but I don’t want to take the risk – I need to unplug it. But I can’t let go of the fish tank.  If I do it will destroy the entire sideboard (an 1940’s work of art which doesn’t belong to me) along with some very expensive wine glasses and a much treasured dinner set. I point my leg in the direction of the plug and ask Sonny to do it for me.

 

“What’s a plug?” he says looking confused.

 

“It’s that white, plastic thing in the wall. Just pull it out!”

 

“But I am not allowed to touch those.”

 

“I know. But today you can. It’s an emergency!”

 

As Sonny yanks the plug out of the wall I hear someone close the outside gate. It is the boyfriend. HALLELUJAH. He bursts through the door, takes one look at me then bursts out laughing.

 

“Sorry, honey,” he says, grabbing the far end of the fish tank. “It’s just that you look so…well…funny standing there in your dressing gown, all wet and grumpy, your entire body wrapped around a half empty fish tank.”

 

“Well, I am glad you find it amusing,” I groan. “I’ve been holding this ruddy thing for 15 minutes and my back is killing me.”

 

“At least the fish are ok,” he says, trying to be upbeat.

 

“Lucky them,” I reply, looking at the sorry state of my sideboard.

 

And the moral of the tale:

 

Fish tanks can be dangerous! Use your common sense (like I didn’t) and choose your surface wisely. 100 litres of water weighs more than you think. Trust me.

 

Do you think the landlord will notice?

Do you think the landlord will notice?

 

Silly Mama

October 7, 2008 - 3 Responses

 

The other morning I came downstairs to find Sonny sitting on the sofa with a stone the size of a large avocado tucked under his bottom.

 

 “Er…Sonny…why are you sitting on a stone?”  I enquired, as any normal mother would.

 

“It’s not a stone,” he sighed, lifting his left butt cheek to give me a better look.  “It’s a dinosaur egg and I’m trying to hatch it.”

 

“Oh…silly me…of course it is,” I replied, trying to not to show my surprise.

 

Several hours later I sat down with a cup of tea and saw the “egg” neglected on the floor. Thinking this was the perfect opportunity to make amends for my earlier faux pas, I said to Sonny:

 

“Do you what me to sit on your egg for a while?”

 

And do you know what the little monkey said?

 

“It’s only a stone, you silly Mama!”

 

Thanks for that one son!