Of Dens

Really, when it comes to fun, there is little that can improve on a den. Rain has halted outside play but luckily a clothes airer and blankets provide the same amount of fun as they did when I was little.
Only I never made my dens in the bath. Baths make for very cold and very hard dens but one folded king sized duvet later and everyone is comfy and agitating to sleep there that night.

Now I tried to sleep in a bath once. It seemed like the thing to do at the time (and yes, it was at the end of a convivial evening) and despite being rather immune to discomfort, courtesy of Mr Smirnoff, I remember it as being deeply unsuccessful. So my knee jerk reaction was to say no...

...and then I thought - why not? Why on earth can't they sleep in the tub if they want to? It's not as if I am forcing them to sleep rough in the bathroom. So I agreed, on the premise that if they found out that they didn't like it, that they would get into their own beds without waking me at 3am to give me the low down on everything. 'Kay? 'Kay.

And they did. And it was fun. And I asked them very nicely if they would mind not telling the teachers at school that they slept in the bath because I am already in the Headmistress's black books for feeding them nutella sandwiches. Poor woman, she probably was never allowed to sleep in the bath when she was a child.

St George and all that...

In honour of the saint and in memory of The Bard's birthday here is one of my favourite quotes on England mainly because I believe, once upon a time, the following was true...

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,

This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise,

This fortress built by Nature for herself

Against infection and the hand of war,

This happy breed of men, this little world,

This precious stone set in the silver sea,

Which serves it in the office of a wall

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier lands,--

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
William Shakespeare, "King Richard II", Act 2 scene 1

Bangers

I am at work and the phone goes. It is V

V: So I'm cooking the sausages
Me: Yes
V: But I forgot to stick them with a fork
Me: Yeeeers *thinks - great, an oven to clean when I get home*
V: What happens now?
Me: Well, have they exploded yet?
V: (agast) What?
Me: Well, why do you think they are called bangers?
V: No... no they haven't exploded (I can hear him thinking - she feeds me and my children explosive food?!)
Me: Well, stick 'em, cook them and serve them up
V: Oh...that's it?
Me: Yup, that's cooking m'dear.

When it comes to cooking, it has taken him twenty years to reach for anything more complicated than the tin opener and microwave. Give him another twenty and he might manage a roast.

I can't complain, he makes a fantastic cup of tea.

Early

Another fall goes to Lady Insomnia. At four am. I woke up for no reason at all. But it makes a good time to go round and check what folks have been doing on their blogs. It made me think.

There was a time when I could not go a day without blogging. I would spend sometimes as much as an hour writing my own post, then spend maybe another two hours jumping all over the world to see what was happening in other lives far removed from my small house on the mountain. I think I was more lonely than I knew... but you see, while I was reading about other folk, I was letting my life pass me by.

Spring is a busy time for everyone - planting, planning, moving on into the season. Then there is all Summer to watch it unfold to harvest in Autumn.

It is now six o clock and I can hear blackbirds greeting the new day. Time to light the fire and get the kettle on.

ttfn m'dears

Brilliant Idea #1

Guess what this is...

You'll never guess. It is a cup holder for a spinning wheel. And nothing so mundane as a cup of coffee - oh no

Obviously my kind of crafter...