A rude awakening... literally!

Increasingly I find it difficult to go back to sleep if I've woken up or been woken up in the 'middle of the night'.  Sometimes I wake up at 4am, 4.30am, 5am. Is this just aging, my body changing, the birds singing, or some disturbance outside that I'm too bleary-eyed to investigate?

Sometimes I woken by my husband's early start - a couple of times a month he's in the shower at 4am so he can catch the first flight to Dublin, or Amsterdam.  The shower's located next to our room, so I can hear the patter of the water splashing down as he runs it to get the right temperature.

This morning, at 4.30am I struggled to identify what the noise was and where it was coming from.  Eventually, although it must have only been seconds rather than minutes, I realised that Phoebe's radio was on, and seemed to be increasing in volume, playing 'We are the Champions' by Queen.  Grrrrrr.  I put my light on, went to her room, put her light on and found the source of the noise.  'What????' said Phoebe, sounding how I felt!  I turned the radio off at the socket (couldn't find the on/off switch), and went back to bed.

The problem, when I wake up at this time in the morning, is that I can't get back to sleep.  I assume my usual 'go to sleep position', I'm the right temperature for me (nice and cosy), and I recognise that I'm still tired.  But I can't seem to drift off.

In the past I've said to myself, well I'll get up and do something, read the newspaper, do the ironing, but in recent months I've tried staying put and going back to sleep.  I must slip into a sort of dazed slumber, because when the alarm goes off at 6.45am, I'm very tired, very grumpy and very resentful.  Grrr.  Any ideas anyone?

We're in the final days of the Easter holidays.  Hooray!  They do seem to go on.  Yesterday I took the children to Buscot Park - a National Trust property fairly nearby, which we'd not properly visited. The last time we went we did the gardens and tea-room, so yesterday we did the house. I'd taken my camera, but when I came to take photos of the children in the gardens I found that I'd left the battery charging in the kitchen at home. Bother.

So to the House. What a treasure trove!  It's packed with antique furniture, art (old and new), objet's d'art and objet's de virtu, magnificent views, tromp d'oeil, and personal items of Lord Faringdon's family. However, the piece de resistance, the magnet, the thing that surprised me, moved me and blew my mind was 'the Saloon'.  I didn't realise how much I liked the pre-Raphaelites until I viewed 'The Legend of the Briar Rose' by Edward Burne-Jones.

Here's the Wikipedia link:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Legend_of_Briar_Rose

It was a privilege to spend time looking at the lifesize, beautiful, romantic, colourful panels, and I'm looking forward to taking my parents next time they're down this way.  Don't know if it'll be to my Father's taste, but my Mother paints, and I'm sure she''ll like it as well.

Time for breakfast!  Have a good day y'all. Kat.

I love the smell of....

(a) .... 'Napalm in the morning'...
(b) .... baking bread ...
(c) .... 2-stroke engine oil / lawnmower smell
(d) .... a new book
(e) .... hens

All of the above?  Who guessed correctly?  Well, if you're a certain age, and a movie-goer, you'll always respond to the prompt 'I love the smell of' with 'Napalm in the morning'.  Apocalypse Now was and remains for me one of the most powerful, all encompassing films I've ever seen.

So, not quite Apocalypse Now then this afternoon when I started up my lawnmower for the first time this year, but the smell of the petrol, the smell from the exhaust, the sound of the engine buzzing.  It almost overwhelmed my senses and screamed 'S-P-R-I-N-G!!!'  At last.

I wasn't the only one.  In the relative quiet of my emptying the grass (and moss) cuttings, I could hear other lawnmowers humming, an urban, suburban and rural unruly orchestra, a distant cacophony of little engines up and down the road, up and down the town, up and down the country, crying out, calling out, marking their territories like some ancient ritual, like the birds singing and the bees buzzing, Spring is finally here.  Yippee.  Everyone mowed today because it's forecast to rain (for a couple of weeks) from Tuesday.............

It took 2 hours.  The first cut always takes a long time, and I'd set the height a good 4-5cms, so not too bold first time, and if the weather allows it'll be a quick trim the next time.  If I were a lawn fanatic I'd do it every weekend, and it wouldn't take too long.  But things happen, weather happens, children (and washing) happens, so the lawn's not as looked after as it should be.  Not the end of the world, I know, but I'd like to spend a bit more time in the garden.  And after the wettest year on record last year, it's not surprising that the neglect my lawn has suffered has turned a good portion of it over to moss.  Still it's green (yellow-ish) and I've other things to do with my time.

So, on a good day, with conditions right, it would normally take 1hr 15 minutes to do the lawn, front and back and orchard. (Get her! she's got an orchard!  The dictionary definition says 4 or more apple trees makes and orchard, and we've got 5, so I've got an orchard.  That's how posh we are!)...

There was a light breeze today, and it was nice LOVELY to be outside.  However, having spent the morning helping out with the White Horse Harriers' Half-Marathon - I was on the refreshments 'crew'- the rest of the day's chores were squashed into what was left of the afternoon. I started the lawn at 4pm, finished  at 6pm and persuaded Simon to collect a Chinese take-away for supper whilst I showered the effects of the lawn-mowing away. Great.  Lovely to have a take-away for a change. Felt I deserved it, and everyone enjoyed it.

Note to self. Next time we get takeaway, after an afternoon spent gardening, don't get the 'Salt and Pepper Beancurd' starter.  The salt stung my wind-chapped lips and I felt like I was suddenly Mick Jagger.

Too tired to write any more, and I've got plenty of vaseline on my lips to calm them down.

Keep it sweet.  Kat  :)

Tea

There's something about tea.  There's nothing else quite like it.  Nothing hits the spot, for me, like a good cup of tea.

It's not an exact science.  Some cups are better than others.  Sometimes it's the time of day.  Or the cup/mug.  Or the fact that someone else made it for you.  Or you just need it, like an addict.

It can be dreadful.  Think polystyrene cup from a vending machine.  Think the tea that comes from the dispenser on the table at the back of the room during the training course/conference.  Those sinister black and stainless steel bulked up thermos thingys, with the spout, and the lever you press to extract the stewed brown liquid that you crave and at the same time despise because it's not fresh.

In fact thermos tea is invariably awful, but you still take it to the point-to-point because at least it's hot and didn't cost £2.50 a cup to be terrible, and you can drink it in the car out of the wind..

But when you get a good cup of tea it's like sunshine, music, and birdsong.  A good cup of tea will lighten your mood, and settle your nerves.  It'll break the ice, give you something to do, bring some joy and start the day right.  It gives you time.  To think, meditate, mull things over, plan, scheme, or you can simply use the time to warm your hands on the cup.  And then, when the cup is finished, you can act.

I sometimes liken it to a cigarette.  I don't smoke myself, but I imagine a good cup of tea is akin to the 'hit' or 'rush' you get from nicotine.  I daresay I'm addicted to tea, and when we've been travelling I have felt withdrawal symptoms if tea is not freely available.  Certainly in other countries they don't 'get' tea.  How to make it, how to serve it, just any of it.

And some of my cups of tea are habitual (like cigarettes?), the first of the day, the first at work, and so on.  But there's still something about it.  You can have too much.  I peak at around 4 cups a day.  I sometimes hit 5, but rarely finish the fifth, as if my body is saying steady on there.  I move onto Redbush tea in the evening (no caffeine) but it's no substitute.

And I have my favourite, Twinings Everyday, but can't always afford it. So I shop around, and buy it when it's on special offer, and make do at other times.  Tea bags in the mug are fine and convenient.  Tea leaves are too strong and messy to clear up afterwards.  Tea pots are a pain if they don't pour, but useful if serving a few people at the same time.

Which is what I'll be doing at the weekend.  We're helping out at the White Horse Harriers annual Half-Marathon on Sunday, and I'm on tea 'duty'.  We've got a good team, and a good system, so looking forward to that.  Will need to make a cake to bring, but that's no bother. Phoebe's on 'luggage' duty, and Simon and Tom are lead car again.  It's a family affair.

Back to work tomorrow, but the children are still on Easter Hols.
Night night.  Kat :)