The greatest gift

In my opinion the greatest gift that you can give, or receive, is, time.  The reason I think this is that that time, once spent, cannot be recovered.  You can't go back. Duh.!!  It's so easy to squander time on the mundane.  And no matter how hard you try, you can't make up for lost time.  Therefore time spent with your family or friends is priceless.

Which goes a little way to explaining why I'm not writing much here tonight, but rather will photo-journalise what's been happening....

Autumn berries,

muddy dog walking,

Misty morning towards Didcot power station from Faringdon Folly hill

'Selfie' with Roly

1st picking of neighbour Mick's quinces

Soda bread with Phoebe's left-over buttermilk...

Served with quince jelly... yum!

Crunchy leaves at Badbury Clump/Hill/Castle

Swinging about at Badbury

How high????

At Challow jct - this is the ever changing view across the junction I give way at on my way back from school run...

There's been a lot going on.... time used well, both with family and friends, and on the mundane - I've finally cracked the ironing pile - and because the mundane has now been brought into order, I can spend time on things I like to do - like making soda bread and quince jelly....  about time!

See you next time ... Kat  ;)

The old ebb and flow

of family life - has quietened down for the time-being.

Half-term holidays for working parents aren't in fact holidays. They're a logistical maze of childcare, playdates and pre-booked treats which, in my opinion, should qualify you for a position in military planning and battle tactics.  Phew! Breathes sigh of relief, they're back to school, all quiet now, time to catch up and get 'back to normal'.

Err, not this half-term.  Tom took his completed 'roundhouse' model into school first day back. Then there was Tom's school choir trip to The Royal Albert Hall on 5th November. The 6th November was the Shoebox Appeal day - mustn't ever forget that... Then his Beaver Scout Colony's participation in the Remembrance Sunday parade.  Children in Need day - the BBC appeal that gets every school child to dress up/go in home clothes/wear your pyjamas to school/make a cake/buns/biscuits/buy a cake/buns/biscuits whatever, to raise funds for Children in Need...  and this week.... thankfully, nothing.  Better check the diary... no.  Nothing. P-h-e-w.

So.  To celebrate this hiatus, this lull in all things children, I've blitzed the family ironing mountain.  Dear me, the excitement of it all. Were you sitting down?  Today, to get to the bottom of the pile, I pulled out 3 pairs of Simon's summer shorts.  I think he was still wearing them in October, but couldn't swear to it.

Our nearest neighbour, Mick, had offered me some of his quince with which to make jelly.  So, after washing my car yesterday I took the bucket around to his garden, and gathered half a bucket full. Not having made quince jelly before I'd no idea how many you need.  Half a bucket full weighed 3.5kgs, or 7lbs in old money.

I prepared half of them, simmered for about 2 hours until pulpy and then strained the pulp overnight through a muslin.  Today, I measured the liquid (a meagre 400ml), added sugar, boiled for 10mins and made my first quince jelly.

Quite pleased with the colour, flavour, clarity and set.  Less pleased with the quantity.  It made 1 and a half jars.  I'm considering entering it in the Women's Institute Real Jam Festival in December - it's at Denman College at Marcham, so only 15 minutes away from us.

I'll gather some more fruit to add to the 2kgs I've still got, and will try again tomorrow/Wednesday and next time will endeavour to remove the scum from the top of the jar - will present better that way.  It didn't spoil the flavour any, just the appearance.

But if the pressure of the rest of the family life wasn't ebbing for the moment, I'd not be able to do this with my time.... see how it goes.

TTFN.  Kat.  :)

Am I stupid or something?

OK. I know what you're thinking.  Don't answer that.

The reason I ask is I seem to be at odds with what I learned during my driving lessons (back in the 1980s), and the flow of traffic today.  And today in particular.

I've already spoken to our local PCSO (Police Community Support Officer), and I think I'm in the right, but I may as well be banging my head on the wall for all the good 'being in the right' does for me.

I travel on the A338 daily to take Tom to school and get me to work. As it becomes Newbury Street approaching the only traffic-light (4-way staggered) junction near the centre of town the carriageway has double yellow lines on both sides - apart from the on-street parking (enough for 8-9 cars maximum). The on street parking is on the oncoming traffic side as you travel into town.

Now, the road bends gently to the left as you approach this bottleneck, and the length of carriageway after the on street parking, and before the traffic lights is enough for say 8-10 vehicles, to wait safely without obstructing the bottleneck.

One of the things that Dave my driving instructor always told me was to remember the '3 C's - Care, Courtesy and Caution'.  I would add to those words of wisdom the additional 'C's of Consideration and Consequences'.

My default position when approaching the bottleneck situation on Newbury Street is to assess whether there would be enough space for oncoming traffic to proceed safely if I was to join the queue approaching the traffic lights.  Can you see where we're going with this yet?  I am inclined to give way before the bottleneck to oncoming traffic (although they should give way to me the obstruction being on their side of the road).

Why do I do this?  Because by giving way at this point the traffic flow is not impeded and the junction at the traffic lights doesn't snarl with clogged up traffic trying to manoeuvre through the double 'parked' traffic....

I've reported several instances of traffic overtaking me to the police (on the bend, essentially blind into the parked or oncoming traffic) when I've managed to get the vehicle licence plate, and note the time, date, etc, to give in support.  The police say I should keep a record of all the instances I experience and then write to the council, providing the 'evidence'.  Maybe they can come up with some traffic calming measures there?

Now, you may think that I'm just being an old fuddy-duddy. 'Doh!'.  'Chillax'. 'Watevs'. I hear you say. And maybe I shouldn't let it get to me.  But.  The reason I let it get to me is that just before the bend is a primary school of 400+ children.  The pavements on either side of Newbury Street are clogged daily at the usual school times with Mums, buggies, children, scooters, toddlers, etc. on their way to and from school.

So, on Wednesdays the Library is closed and I leave home to collect Tom between 2.30pm - 3.00pm latest.  Today I was running late and left the house at 3.00pm - just in time to join the school run traffic.   The lollipop lady outside the school let us proceed and I determined it would be better to sit tight and wait before the bottleneck.

W-r-o-n-g!  One car waited behind me and was overtaken by 6 vehicles which proceeded through the bottleneck to join the queue of traffic from the lights, and then started to backfill it.  The car behind me then also overtook me and a following 2 vehicles completed the farce.   Eventually the last car stopped and there was a space of about 4 vehicle lengths left between it and my vehicle.  I got her licence plate number in my notebook, which I now keep handy in my in-console drink holder.  Ha.  But alas, there was no way of getting the details of the other vehicles.

As the traffic lights changed the junction snarled because the tailback impeded the traffic which wanted to turn right. Six of the vehicles which had jumped past me had to pull close into the pavement in order to let the oncoming traffic through.... and all this at school home-time.

Where's the Care, Courtesy and Caution?  What about Considering all the options and weighing up the Consequences?  Why are people so impatient?  What will it take to change those drivers behaviour?  I hope (and pray) that nothing serious happens, and I just don't understand.  In my opinion, it's an accident waiting to happen.  But I seem to be alone in this opinion.  What am I missing? Am I stupid or something????

Kat.

Christmas is coming - and not in a good way!

I don't like Christmas.  There.  I've said it out loud.  Bah humbug!  Mrs Scrooge, pray tell, why don't you like Christmas?

That's not an easy question to answer.  The obvious answer is the extra unwanted financial pressure put upon parents, and gift givers, by the consumerist society we live in.  The constant run-up, build-up, getting ready for, anticipation, practice - like a military manoeuvre, or an athelete in training, or a stage manager preparing a show in the theatre - that we are bombarded with in shop windows, magazines, newspapers, on the internet, on the TV (both in the programme content, and commercials), on the radio and in daily conversation 'are you ready for Christmas yet?' they innocently ask.

It's become competitive.  Or at least that's how it seems to me. And the competition is driven by the money-takers, the profit motive, the share-holders wanting their dividend, or else how will it end?  It'll end in tears, make no mistake, it usually does.  And the problem with this, as I see it, is that little (and sometimes big) children don't see the tactics, only the glitter, and they're sucked in and suckered up, and are not satisfied any more.... because they want what they see and it's as simple as that.  But it's not, is it?

I begrudge the expectation.  I begrudge the lack of spontanity that this enforced gift-giving season has on my finances.  If I want to give a present to someone I want to give it when I see it, in the "I saw this, and thought of you" sentiment, (and when I can afford it), and not when some modern tradition dictates.  Because at this time of year it feels like I'm being dictated to, coerced, cajoled and pushed into doing something I find distasteful, this vulgar display, over which I have little control.

The problem is that buying all the presents at this one time of the year seems to me to be ridiculous.  I have to plan, and scrimp and save, (just like everyone else) to what end?  To appear to be generous, loving, kind?  I'd rather set my own agenda for when I demonstrate these qualities, thank you, and not be bent to the shop-keepers timetable for profit.  Bah humbug!

And the consumerist aspect of it is so all-consuming (all puns intended) that the real message can become too easily lost.  But what, I hear you ask, is 'the real message'?  The obvious answer is the Christian message of the birth of Christ.  Which is fine, if you have, and follow, the Christian faith.  But that leaves a heck of a lot of us 'out'.

So, in this conflicted state of mind, we have two children to consider...  whose childhood memories of this 'special time of the year' would be forever tainted/tarnished if we didn't join in and play up to the stereotypical festivities. Or would they?  Don't worry.  I know the rules, and I'm a good girl at heart.

But I wonder.  Would their memories be ruined if we didn't give them the latest trend/toy/gadget/gift.  If we didn't produce the traditional Christmas day meal of turkey and Christmas pudding.  If we didn't have a Christmas tree in the living room.  If we bunked off, played hookey, spent the money differently and did something together which we'd all enjoy instead.  Now there's an idea!

Actually, I'm not as 'bah humbug' as that.  It seems to me that Christmas is a time for children.  I genuinely have no interest in opening presents for myself.  Sorry to disappoint those of you who know me.  If I want something I either buy it or save up for it.  I haven't the time or inclination to think of a list of presents that other people may want to give me.

OK, so maybe I am 'bah humbug' after all... and there must be other adults out there who feel this way.  Look at all the 'unwanted gifts' afterwards that are donated to the charity shops, sold on e-Bay, put into WI raffles, or given away on freecycle...

But for children, making a list is their way of expressing a means of control in their life, if but for a brief moment. And the joy on their faces on opening the presents they receive is priceless, and we parents fall for it every time.

So, Christmas is coming.  Inevitably.  Like a freight train, or container ship, there's no stopping it, and no denying it.  And in my usual conflicted way I'd put it off, and said I would't do it this year, it won't do me any favours, but eventually the craving won out.  Can you guess?

I made my Christmas Cake.

It's called 'my' Christmas Cake because the rest of my family don't like fruit cake, or xmas pudding, but they might squeeze a mince pie (home-made mince-meat) in.

So, 'am I ready for Christmas yet?'.  No.  Kat.

Things that go bump in the night ... again

Disclaimer.  I'm writing this as therapy to get it out of my mind to help me move on.   After talks with various neighbours I'm relieved to report that no-one was seriously injured....

Friday night, Saturday morning, and my digital alarm clock read-out said 02.45.  02.46.  02.47.  My drowsy brain struggled to comprehend the sound ... of a car alarm, and fought to stay in bed, but my inner instinct said to investigate.  Great. Staying put was not an option.

I woke my husband up to tell him there was a car alarm (I like to share these experiences) going off. He got up grumpily, and we looked out of the front window to check our vehicles on the driveway.  Nothing happening there.  My husband went back to bed.  I lingered and looked towards the road where there is on-street parking.

If there's a car alarm sounding something must have happened.  Vandals? Thieves?  My car was parked in front of our drive, should I put it on our drive in case it was targeted by the idiots setting car alarms off?

What can I see?  There. Just visible over next door's hedge, hazard lights flashing on the vehicle nearest to us.  Car alarm, and hazard lights.  And mist. Mist?

I wiped my hand over the mid-night condensation on the single-glazed window to clear my view.  Strange.  Mist at the front of the vehicle, but not at the rear.  Steam rising puffs of mist.  Puffs of mist?  Or smoke? That's not right.

02:48. Now I was wide awake and alarmed myself.  I went downstairs and out of the house to check my vehicle and see what was wrong with the other one.

My vehicle was fine. But the other one on the road.  The flashing hazard lights.  The car alarm. The smoke rising from the bonnet. The loud music coming from the car.  Eerie.  The silence all around except for the 70's disco track and the smoke.  Smoke!

02:49.  I went back inside and woke my husband again and told him I thought there was a car on fire on the road.  This time he got up quickly and we went outside to see.  From 30 paces or so we could see that a car had crashed into a parked car.  Now it made sense.  The car alarm was no longer sounding, but the smoke was clearly visible rising from the bonnet, and the disco track was still playing.

02:50. As the thought was running through my brain that we should probably dial 999, the police vehicle arrived with its lights flashing and stopped skew-whiff on the road just beyond the crashed car.  Two officers in hi-visibility jackets got out, ignored us, and inspected the vehicle.

02:51.  They opened the driver door and the passenger door, and the sound of the music grew louder and the smoke billowed out into the cold night air.  They closed the car doors and approached a man on the pavement who shook his head and walked away from them.

02:52. 'I don't want to see this' I said, and we went inside.

Back in bed I tried to turn over to my comfortable position, but I couldn't get what I'd seen out of my mind.  There was no way that I could sleep now.

02:58.  I got up again and looked out of the front window.  The fire engine was parked close to my car, firemen were calmly taking control of the situation and yellow hoses were snaking along the ground towards the crashed vehicle.  The police vehicle had moved away and the road in front of the fire engine was closed with a line of 4 traffic cones.  Further down the road towards town, another set of flashing lights could have been an ambulance or a police vehicle at the point where the road was closed there.

03:53.  Still not sleeping I went to look out of the window again.  The fire engine was gone now, and different flashing lights and spot lights indicated a tow truck had arrived and was obviously recovering the crashed car.

04:10.  Down in the kitchen I made myself an Ovaltine and battled with my computer, which said 'You're not blogging now, I need a scan because Norton 360 says so'. So I ran the scan as indicated and went to bed at 05:00.

I work on Saturday mornings, and before setting off to the Library I went to inspect the scene.

The impact car (now taken away) had ploughed into G+K's car - a 4 door hatchback, which in turn had hit C's car - an older model smaller hatchback, which in turn had been pushed under the rear bumper of I+P's Volvo 4x4.  The shunted cars now made a traffic jam which blocked the driveways to two properties...

So, 3 cars obviously written off (including the impact vehicle), and the Volvo 4x4 sustaining damage to its rear bumper and tow bar.  If I'd not been so tired and on my way to work I would have taken photos.  But maybe that would have been a bit gruesome? Voyeuristic?  Wierd?

Thanks for letting me get it off my chest, sharing these experiences makes it feel less burdensome.  From speaking to the neighbours we think the driver must have phoned 999 because none of us did it, and as we all said something like 'I was just thinking I'd better phone 999' when the police had arrived.

Never a dull moment, as they say, and it could have been a LOT worse.

TTFN.  Kat.

It all happens at once

What to blog about tonight?  The recent spate of vandalism at the Library (which also involved my car)?... The saga of our leaky ceiling and boiler problems?  The cost of putting together a 'shoebox' to send to African or Romanian children.  The fun we (I) had building the roundhouse Tom had to do for his half-term homework..

Obviously, Tom did get involved in the Roundhouse construction.  He just lost interest after 5 minutes - and each session took around 1 hour before drying time.  So probably 5 hours of work went into it, and between getting frustrated with the inflexibility of the twigs we'd collected and the lack of input from my son, we cobbled something together with the aid of wallpaper paste and spray-on glue.

The observant among you may have noticed that Tom's badge on his school jumper is a 'Blue Peter' sports badge.  He applied to get it over the summer, being able to demonstrate that he'd inspired a friend to take up a sport.  Friend being Monty and the sport being Tae-Kwon Do.  Paperwork filled in, photographic evidence and Tae-Kwon Do Instructor's signature acquired, it was a lovely thing for him to take his badge to school to show everyone.

I'm keeping it short tonight, as we had a late one yesterday - Tom and his school choir were involved in an event at the Royal Albert Hall in London...  it was a long, tiring and successful day.

Night night, Kat.

The 590 miles round trip ... part three.

On the Saturday we left my parents to see my sister and her family in Southport.  I couldn't remember the last time we visited, and consequently popped the Sat Nav onto her address.  It wasn't the route I'd have chosen if I was map-reading myself, but it did the job.

It turned out from the work they'd done to the house, that I'd probably not visited for about 3 years.... which is testament to the distance we live apart from each other, and the busy-ness of modern family life.  Happily, our children have had opportunity to visit each other in the intervening years thanks to Grandma and Grandad's fortitude.

My siblings, who live closer to our parents, enjoy the benefit of our parents' involvement in their family life by virtue of proximity.  We take advantage of their 'services' infrequently by equal virtue of distance.  Fact.

Luckily when Grandma and Grandad do get Phoebe and, or, Tom dumped on them/spending quality time with them, they usually spend time with the cousins.  Which is great for everyone, and something which is too valuable to measure, and which words can't express the gratitude I feel deep inside when I watch the cousins playing together.

So to Southport.  We trawled the charity shops as I'm hunting for Aladdin ideas for the Christmas display at the Library.  After that we went for a stroll down the Pier - icecreams in hand and blustery wind knocking our balance to the side.

From Southport Pier

Tidal streams incoming...

At the end of the Pier is a 'penny arcade' - you purchase 'old pennies' and play old-fashioned one-armed bandits, penny falls, donkey derby and suchlike.  The children loved it. Actually, we quite enjoyed it ourselves....

The following day was the day of the predicted storm, and we were driving - very carefully! - to Bristol.  The Sat Nav did its job, and we arrived at 3.15pm.  Tom and Isaac have been friends since nursery, so we make the effort to keep in touch now he lives in Bristol.

Isaac's Mum had made a roast dinner - thank you! - which is something I only ever do at Christmas.  Being mostly vegetarian (I still eat fish - probably once or twice a month) I don't cook meat at home (well, I'm prepared to cook sausages for the children, but that's as far as it goes), so a 'roast' has never been part of the regular menu at home.  It was a lovely treat, she'd got me an individual vegetarian pie, which I enjoyed enormously.  It was nice to catch up and the boys were thick as thieves, as always.

The full force of the storm missed Bristol, so driving home the next day, whilst wet, was really only hampered by a traffic jam on the M4.  We diverted off at Jct. 17 to go cross country via Cirencester.  The Sat Nav was having none of it and kept on trying to bring us back round to the M4.  I'm sure you should be able to override that, but I've no idea how you do.

Got home 12.30pm and back to work 2pm-7pm. Knackered!

Here endeth the half-term 590 miles round trip.... ever again? Probably.

night night, Kat  ;)

The 590 miles round trip .... part two

We arrived at my parents and I unloaded the car ready for us to stay the night.  My oldest friend was also in the area, so she popped by and we decided to go for a walk to stretch our legs and burn off some energy for the children.

Wellies and raincoats on (the weather was threatening rain again) we set off across the common, over the cricket pitch and down the fields.  I had my camera for happy snapping, and happily we found a few friendly cows on the way.

Twins?  Pendle Hill in the background...

One of Tom's wellies got sucked into a boggy patch of the field where he'd run on a head of us, and as he hopped around his un-wellied foot ended up in the mud.. an uncomfortable experience in itself, and when you're the youngest in the group (7), and the only boy, an embarassing one as well.

Tom took off once his wellie was back on, and ran on ahead, keeping up a distance from us all.  Further down, the field was divided by a tractor track, which was fenced off with electric fencing.  The footpath bisected this barrier, but happily the farmer had installed wooden stiles for the walkers to pass by on.  We found Tom on the track, happily slushing around in his wellies in the sloppy mud of the tractor rut.

'Come on, we go down to the stream next' I said, 'Be careful of the electric fence'.  We clambered over the stiles and as I glanced at Tom I noticed he was shaking his hand, Black Eyed Peas style ('shake it like a polaroid picture').  'Did you get a shock?' I asked him.  'No' he lied.  He'll learn, I thought, and continued on our way.

As we approached the stream we looked behind to see where Tom was.  He was back at the electric fence and had touched it again - this much was obvious by the way he was shaking his hand again...  When he'd caught up we asked him again if he got a shock.  'No' he said innocently. 'What did it feel like?' I persisted.  'Like an invisible hand under my skin punching me on my arm bone,' he said, and he indicated a point midway between wrist and elbow.  It seemed a good description to me.

A little further on the footpath passed my Uncle Michael's house.  He was in his garden, and wasn't expecting to see us, and although he must have been a little surprised, he invited us in for a cup of tea, which was nice.  Carol, his wife, arrived just as we were leaving, and just as the drizzle became a huge downpour, so they offered us a lift home, which we gladly accepted, it being another mile or so to go.

We slept 3 together in the guest bedroom at my parent's house. Phoebe and myself having the beds, and Tom in his sleeping bag on the floor.  The next morning Phoebe told me that Tom and I snored in the night.  Well!  I said that I thought I purred.  Phoebe said if that was purring then I must be a lion...

Raow!

Night night,  Kat!