Chez Spud

Archive for May, 2010

I have a secret

Posted under Witterings

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Things are not as they seem at Chez Spud. Something subtle has changed…can you see it? Can you see what it is yet? No?

You’ll have to look very hard. And I mean VERY hard to find it. You’d have to have a lot of time on your hands or a worryingly obsessive nature to find it but….sssssshhhhh…..there is now paid advertising on my blog. Yup, I’ve sold out. A Photography Company approached me offering $$$$. My purist heart said no but my greedy materialistic streak said YOU BET!

So, somewhere on Chez Spud, is a very subtle advert. You can look if you like. I won’t lead you there because I’m just annoying like that. And there’s nothing in it for me to increase traffic there anyway as it’s a flat fee which I already have in my sticky paws. But take a look if you like, you’ll laugh if you find it!

It was a kind of curious transaction. Random person emails me on behalf of the company. I ignore the email because I don’t understand it. MrSpud, who gets copied in on all emails via Chez Spud, asks me what I’m doing about it. Er, er, er…dunno because I don’t know what it is. He explains it, I email a cautious “I’m possibly interested, which company is it and how much?”. They email back. I confirm. Ten minutes later the ad is up and about 5 hours later the money is in my account.

I’m thinking MrSpud might now want a cut. Dream on MrSpud, dream on…

Anyways, on a more serious note and in the interest of transparency…this site now contains paid for advertising. If you can find it you can be snooty about it, but if you can’t then get over yourself. I’ve had to.

Spud the Moneygrubber

x

PS Photo has nothing to do with the post. I just like it. Who said the English were eccentric?

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Really boring post about yarn

Posted under Crochet

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Admit it, the title really drew you in didn’t it? Yes, this is a Really Boring Post About Yarn. I’m going with ‘yarn’ not ‘wool’ since ‘wool’, the generic British term for stuff that is used for knitting/crocheting caused confusion on a previous post. In the US it is called yarn, which is all things knitty/hooky. In the UK it is called wool, which means wool, cotton, mohair etc etc. It’s confusing. Let’s just go with yarn.

This is a post for me to remind me which yarn I’ve used for which pieces and whether I liked them. At some point I plan on a journal, of the old fashioned kind, with a swatch of each of the colours used, number of balls used, total cost (written in invisible ink so MrSpud can’t see), time taken etc etc. But for now I’m recording my entirely tedious love affair with yarn here. Sorry about that.

First up, above, the Giant Granny. I made this as a break from the Giant Granny Bertie Blanket, and to use up various bits of yarn knocking about. This was my first foray in to working with cotton. I love how it feels once it’s been worked, but I didn’t much enjoy working with some of it. It’s a mix of Rowan handknit cotton and Debbie Bliss cotton dk. The Debbie Bliss wins by miles in terms of how it feels to work with, but the Rowan colours are better. And Rowan is a bit cheaper. Also, I learnt that if you don’t like a colour…no amount of fiddling with it and ‘just using it up’ will ever change that. Worked with a size 4 hook.

Mmmm, the Big Daddy of Spud’s crochet….the massive blanket for Bertie made of granny squares. This feels like it’s a life’s work, although I actually only started it in late February. I had a couple of false starts; first I did the squares in 4 different colours before deciding I like them with a white border. Then I realised I was making them all wrong. I’ve wasted a lot of wool making this. A pity as it’s pricey and I’ve used so much of it. The method I’m using to join it is lovely, and easy (found on Carina’s Craft Blog).  But it’s a yarn guzzler. And I’ve still got to put the last row on it and then granny around the whole thing a few times. I am so happy I’ve not attempted to calculate the cost of this baby. It’s very, very expensive. I just hope it turns out to be the ‘heirloom piece’ I planned it to be.

I didn’t plan this at all. I just bought a few balls of Debbie Bliss cashmerino aran and merino aran (now discontinued) at the local yarn shop. I picked it for colour, without thinking about how chunky the yarn is or the cost, or what other colours I might want to use. So it’s a pretty ‘organic’ piece (ie randomly made up as I went along). The colours are quite muted, but the yarn is gorgeous. Well the cashmerino is, the bit of merino in it is on the scratchy side.  Bit of a lesson in pre-planning and, when tackling a new craft, don’t go for a super pricey raw material. Oh well. I’m really loving how this is turning out though. Worked with a size 5 hook, using the Summer Garden Granny Square pattern by Attic24.

Very boring picture. Baby blanket in cream, Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino. Work in progress, gorgeous yarn…so soft with a slight twist to it, worked with a 3.5 hook. I think my favourite yarn thus far. I don’t espeically love the end result of working in one colour but it’s a fast, easy pattern to work and very soothing. Pattern is from the book ‘Crochet Unravelled’.

I’m yet to take a good photo of this blanket and yarn. It’s a 50:50 mix of silk and merino by Mirasol, a range called Tupla. It’s so beautifully soft and shiny, and silky of course. I just picked all the colours in the range that I liked and made a stripey ripple. With hindsight I might have picked the colours and mixed them a bit more carefully.  I’ve used the turquoise to make a Queen Anne lace scarf too. Interestingly, (well not really) I ended up having to mix two dye batches for the scarf. The colour is a good match, but the texture isn’t! Half of the scarf is silky smooth, the other has a tangible ‘roughness’ to it. Worked with a size 4 hook. The pattern is the Neat Ripple from Attic24, well not so neat in my case. i just couldn’t seem to get the first row ‘right’ and thought I’d fudge it. Urgh, the whole thing is a pickle although it looks ok. I’m planning a Baby Ripple in Debbie Bliss Baby Cashmerino for a friend and am determine to make a Right Ripple, not a Wrong Ripple.

Finally, the ill-advised hexagon project. I just really wanted to learn how to crochet hexagons and used the Attic24 pattern. I’m really not that struck with them to be honest, bit of a faff to make and not helped by using some experimental yarn and Diggy making off with the orange ball.  I’m trying to find the ‘perfect’ shade of greens, yellows, turquoises for a Big Daddy Granny Blanket for Diggy’s room but I am struggling. These are a few balls Debbie Bliss EcoAran, plus a couple of Rowan Cotton. I like how it turns out but it’s a pain to work with, lots of strands which keep unravelling. Urgh. I will be happy to see the back of this project. I also threw in a ball of Rowan Lenpur linen which is a gorgeous turquoise, but is utterly vile to work with – like a brillo pad. Worked with a size 4 hook.

Thus ends my Really Boring Post About Yarn. I ‘would’ show you my stash since, ahem, there’s quite a lot left over a quite a bit waiting for new projects. But then MrSpud would bust me. So it will be Our Little Secret? Ssssshhhh….don’t tell….

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My Big Boy can read!

Posted under People I love

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Try to ignore MrSpud’s truly appalling hair here…oh and my dreadful photography…try to focus on the 8 month old Bertie, finally understanding that books are for reading and not eating. I think I could recite that book in my sleep, plus the accompanying ridiculous noises I made to accompany each page (“This cow can moo”…me: ‘moooooo mooooo’. This cow is blue”…me: ‘cry cry cry’). Fast forward a couple of years and he’s not eating  books, he’s READING books! Whole books! Not eaten whole, read whole. What a long way we’ve come.

I feel overwhelmingly proud of him, even prouder than when he learnt to ride a bike without stablisers. I loved that moment, watching him scoot off in to the distance…because I remember how it felt to do it, how it felt like being handed your freedom on a plate (ha, how wrong). And I love the reading even more than his first totally unaided swim, because swimming is about safety around water and having fun confidently and not much more than that.

But reading is a gift forever, and a shared joy. It’s like letting him in to ‘the club’. It’s the beginning of losing yourself in a book, of being able to dive in to other worlds anytime you please, the start of building his own collection of ‘best favourites’, old favourites, new discoveries…that’s why I’m so thrilled about this new development; because I’m so excited for him.

He could hardly contain his joy, as we made our way through his first ‘whole book’…word by word, sentence by sentence. Every now and I again I asked if he’d had enough, ‘NO!’, he’d half laugh, half shout. He has this funny little chuckle thing that goes on when he’s pleased with how something that he’s doing is turning out, it melts my heart actually..kind of, ‘oh! I’m doing it I’m DOING it!!”.

Yes you are Mr Bertie, you ARE doing it and I love that you are. xx

If you liked that, you might like this ...

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Hooky

Posted under Crochet

11 Comments »

I’m definitely obsessed. I spend far too much time thinking about crochet, thinking about wool, reading about crochet and actually doing crochet. It’s one big crochet fest round here, little piles of wool all over the place and half finished projects strewn about the place. I’ve surprised myself by being a ‘flitter’…I enjoy crochet most when I have a couple of projects on the go at a time. That’s quite unlike me since I’m one of those tedious, dogged types. But there we go.

I think part of the ‘flitting’ is because I am not enjoying the weaving ends/crocheting together part of my first and biggest project…a granny square blanket for Bertie’s bed. I’ve finished and put together 70 of the 80 squares but it’s painfully boring.

So I’ve been relieving the boredom by tackling, and  completing, a ripple blanket:

Used up some wool, tried a new edging technique with a giant granny (arrghh, scary big nana!):

Then I started work on a cream baby blanket (just peaking out in the photo at the top of this post), had a go at hexagons (really not keen on them, they will be a cushion cover ie. a small item) and then made a scarf in a Queen Anne lace pattern. And there’s an alarming amount of wool knocking about the house ready for other projects.

Yup. I’m obsessed.

It’s been such a learning curve though. From ‘never crocheted’ to ‘can pretty much crochet’ in just a few months. There have been a few tears along the way and quite a bit of unraveling, or ‘frogging’ if you’re in the know. I need to think more about colour, rather than just randomly picking colours that I like. And I’ve learnt a lot about wool, what I like, what I don’t, what’s good to work with, what’s a pain the neck to work with. I might write a separate post about that as I want a record of what I’ve worked with on which project.

What’s I’ve mainly learnt about wool, though, is how expensive it is and how little choice we have in the UK. Why do the US and Scandinavia have all the good colours?  I’m disappointed at how muted most wools are. I want brights!

I have to allow at least 10% wastage too since those Megaboys also like to crochet. Alas their version of crochet involves cutting wool, winding it around themselves/fingers, tying bits together etc. It’s enough to make you weep but I don’t want to stiffle their creativity. So, wastage it is…sigh. It’s upsetting though. It ‘may’ have involved Grudge Book entries for Crimes Against Wool. Harumph.

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The five beautiful faces of Anna

Posted under People I love, Photography

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Ah, the lovely Miss Anna…3 years old…wise, warm, witty, determined and oh those eyes (queue launch a thousand ships quote)…and those titian ringlets (queue wild jealousy ranting). She’s a heart breaker in training, that’s for sure.

She’s so lovely that’s she’s one in a million straight up, straight out of the camera:

But, that hard light right across her face…you know, even at 3, it’s pretty unforgiving. So I couldn’t resist a bit of processing to see how I might improve on perfection. The one at the top is my favourite, but along the way I found a couple of other ‘faces of Anna’…I particularly like this first one…the tones are so in keeping with her gorgeous, gorgeous locks:

As if she wasn’t perfect enough, she arrived dressed in her mother’s beautiful, vintage 70s Liberty print dress. She looked so like Holly Hobbit…just gorgeous. It’s very rare that I have a wistful moment and wish for a girl, but lovely Anna in her vintage frock…well, as ever, a picture speaks a thousand words..the hair..the lashes…the freckles…the FROCK…!

Can’t seem to get my camera off my face at the moment. I’ve really enjoyed my break from Photo A Daying, but I’m vaguely considering launching back in to it. I don’t much miss the pressure of taking a photo a day, but I do miss the camaraderie of the Flickr groups.  Hmm, what to do. I’m in a bit of a muddle photographically speaking…I’m a flash averter, but did a shoot using a speedlight as I had no option…I have no interest in being a pro photographer, not at all…but seem to keep agreeing to doing shoots I don’t want to do. And I can’t help being a little excited and proud that my snaps are now available for purchase/pointing & laughing at on Getty. Fun, huh?

Muddle muddle.

More sensibly, I’m all about the print out at the moment. Having been through a very long and painful process to sort my thousands of photos last year, I’m now all about the hard copy. It’s been so tedious but I’ve been putting together a Blurb book of Diggy’s first three years.  Painful. Next, Bertie’s from 1 – 4. No doubt painful. And a book of my favourite non-child shots from the last 18 months or so. No doubt totally painful.

Still, it has to be done. I want my boys to leave home with a set of albums of photos of their childhood. I want to have hard copies of shots I’m proud of. Because no doubt jpegs et al. will all be obsolete in a shockingly short time. And then all the thousands of shots I’ve so carefully taken, processed, filed etc will be dead and gone forever. What a waste.

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Stranger Danger

Posted under People I love

17 Comments »

Can I beg some comments for this post? Pretty please? You were all so helpful a while back with suggestions for managing Diggy’s ‘rages’ and for calming my own reactions to it – we seem to be through that particular phase, thanks in many ways to the reassurance and suggestions from the Chez Spud Tribe. So thank you…and now I need some more help.

Last weekend Bertie and our neighbours’ elder daughter took themselves off an ‘an adventure’. They took backpacks, helped themselves to cake and drinks, slipped through an open gate on the farm and trotted off down the fields. Before any of us realised they were missing, they were about 5 fields away from the house, over a bridge. Luckily a woman from the village out walking found them and brought them home.

We were spared the anxiety of realising our children were missing. We ‘knew’ where they were playing and that they couldn’t get out in to the fields (not realising the gate was open) and had only just started to call them in for lunch. At that point we saw a stranger walking our 4 year olds down the lane. Horrifying.

There’s no point being hysterical about it. No harm was done. They WERE found, and by someone helpful. But we struggled to talk to them about the possible dangers of what they had done. Both of them understood that going out of eyesight without permission frightens us and means we could help them if they got in to trouble. But both were confident they weren’t ‘lost’, they knew exactly where they were going and how to get back again. Bertie thought we’d sent ‘that nice lady’ to fetch them, although equally he was keen to let us know they didn’t need her to bring them home. So we tried to broach the ‘beware of strangers’ angle.

But none of us were prepared for the ‘stranger danger’ conversation and were left flailing about trying to find a balance between communicating the issues enough for them to understand why they are too young to be out alone and terrifying them unduly. I ended up telling Bertie that he can’t rely on adult strangers helping him if he needs it, because not all adults like children, some adults would just walk by and not help a child in need. That’s why he needs to stay close to me and MrSpud, or other adults we have left him with, because we will always help him. In all honesty I don’t think that resonated with him one bit..he just repeated that he didn’t need help, they were find, they were on an adventure.

So, what do you tell a 4 year old about stranger danger? Nothing? Anything? How far do you go? What are the right words to use? I hadn’t anticipated having to tackle this issue so early, not least because Bertie never goes far from me. Or he didn’t. He’s the child who is overly anxious about crossing the road, even holding my hand…who has never, until now, run away or gone out of eyesight. But there we go. He has now shown that he WILL wander off if he feels like it.

I’d really like to hear what you say, said, to your very young children about stranger danger. I know they teach it at school, but that’s still some months off and presumably isn’t the first topic they tackle. We can tighten up security on the farm but they can all climb so well now that, if they really want to get away, they’ll just clamber over the gates.

Apparently this is a ‘mummy blog’ by the way. I’ve never considered it to be so but I found out, quite by chance, that Chez Spud was nominated in the MADs awards (Mummy & Daddy Blogs) for best photography. Very nice, but is this really a mummy blog? I certainly never intended it to be. I talk about the boys a fair amount but, you know, they are just kind of THERE alot and thus do snaffle quite a lot of my headspace/energy/patience/mental health etc etc.

Anyway, under my ‘mummy blog’ banner I am asking you other mummies and daddies and aunties and uncles..hell, anyone who used to be a child…how do I tackle this issue?

I thank you.

PS Ssshhhh, but there was a teeeeeeeny tiny part of me that admired their planning and stealth. Cake and a drink? Nice work children.

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I am now A Woman

Posted under People I love

8 Comments »

I am now A Woman. I just needed to offload that. As distinct from being ‘a girl’ by the way, rather than a man. This shouldn’t really be a surprise to me given my Great Age, but it’s taken me a week to process the news.

Last week I meet a couple of friends for dinner whilst working in London. I’ve known them for what feels like forever, we met on our first day at university when we were 18 and considerably fresher faced than we are now. I shared a room with one of them during our first year, the other lived in the room next door. We went on to share a house together for the next two years, along with another two friends. 21 years later we’re all still friends.

It was whilst I was telling someone at work that I was meeting friends for dinner that our ‘womanly’ status revealed itself. I started to say, “One of the girls is…” and then it suddenly occurred to me how ludicrous it sounded. I’m 39. She’s 39. She’s 40 in July. I’m 40 in December (ha! I win). There is no way in the world that either of us can be described as ‘girls’. Nor can the other of our merry band of 3, who is 40 in September (ha! I STILL win). We’re not girls. We’re women.

I can vividly remember the first time some random child in a shop referred to me as ‘that lady’, I was in my early 20s and it felt ridiculous. I can also remember the first time someone called me Mrs Spud, even though I actually wasn’t married at the time. That felt ridiculous too. And now my self-imposed ‘woman’ tag feels ridiculous too. It feels like dressing up in your mother’s clothes.

I watched my Women Friends dig in to their second bottle of wine (I was driving and sober, grrr), giggling and gossiping like the past 21 years haven’t happened at all. We look a bit older, our faces look a bit ‘lived in’ but otherwise hanging out with them feels exactly the same as it did back in 1989. Will we still laugh and talk like this when we’re 50, 60, 70 and beyond? The dynamic of the group hasn’t changed one bit, the in jokes are the same…the food and wine might be a bit classier than during our impoverished student days…but otherwise it’s pretty much the way it always has been.

So, were we women acting like girls? That’s the worst of both worlds. I absolutely cannot ABIDE that kind of mutton-dressed-as-lamb skittishness. Women indulging the girlish side of their nature? Or does our shared history mean we revert to our ‘old selves’ when we get together? Shedding the dress up clothes of mother, wife,  boss etc etc in favour of remembering a more frivolous time in our lives?

Whichever way you cut it we have well and truly outgrown our girly days…three marriages, one divorce, five children, one lost parent, two lost children, serious illness…between us there have been enough ups and downs for a mini-series. These are not the lives of girls.

My new ‘Woman’ skin feels a little weird right now but I’m sure I’ll grow in to it. Soon it will be baggy and wrinkly like the rest of me. I think I can adjust to being A Woman, as long as I can gather my old friends around me every once in a while and watch the years roll back as we laugh and chatter like the shadows of the past is the just the future yet to come.

I am now A Woman. Just so you know…

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In my end is my beginning

Posted under People I love, Witterings

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It’s a funny old thing…life….isn’t it…round and round…this way and that…round and round…weaving a path that connects the most unlikely events and people…meeting someone at a child’s birthday party whose previous PA was a friend of mine from university who sings in a choir with someone I used to work with….the same birthday party meet person runs a recording studio nearby and, during a discussion about it on Twitter I chattered with someone who works in the same field as me who had her promotional photos taken by a photographer who brought her daughter round to play as she attends nursery with the Megaboys…the same photographer is married to someone who was an absolute hero of mine as a teenager…and who has taken promo photos of Michael Palin…the same photos that I stumbled across on her site this time last year when looking for a photo of ‘my love’ Michael for this photo….when she showed me her website I knew I’d seen it before…luckily I only realised when it was and, more to the point, WHY after she’d left…the family I’ve come across in our tiny village who moved here from London pretty much at the same time we did and whose son went to nursery in London with Bertie, and goes to the village school where Bertie starts in September…

All these connections, they happen so frequently don’t they? Some are totally and utterly random, others have at least a common thread; the recording studio owner, his PA, the person I used to work with….all connected by classical music, for example; or the photographer, the Twitter pal, Michael Palin…all connected by geography (YES PEOPLE…Michael Palin lives NEAR ME…there will be no escape now).

Perhaps my world is getting smaller? Or we’re just better ‘connected’ to our community, either geographic or common interest, through Twitter & blogging etc. But it seems like these connections happen more and more frequently, and less and less randomly. In my younger days, ahem, I would have found all this stifling and rather claustrophobic. But now I’m fascinated by the concentric rings we weave around ourselves and others. Six degrees of separation? I wonder if the power of the internodes means it’s less than six these days, or if we’re just more aware of the connections? Actually I hardly care, I’m just enjoying feeling ‘bonded’ with all the new people in my life.

So, tell me you weird and wonderful surprising connections, the more random the better and ideally involving famous people. I’m just shallow like that…

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What’s in a name?

Posted under People I love

6 Comments »

Mmmm, pray silence for the collective “awwwwww” at the vision of those oh-so teeeny tiny baby toes. All done now?

Family Spud shipped off to a naming ceremony yesterday. Pretty much literally ‘shipped off’ since the weather was absolutely atrocious and we sailed drove through consistently torrential rain to get there. I’ve never been to a naming ceremony before, plenty of christenings/baptisms but not a naming ceremony. I kind of knew how it might go but I expected someone ‘official’ (like who?) to be there to officiate. I’m just very establishment like that.

Anyway I was totally wrong and the ceremony was led by baby Jarrod’s mother, and included a speech from his father, a couple of readings from friends, some lovely live music from other friends and the lighting of a candle for Jarrod by his 4 year old sister. It was all very informal…all 30 of us packed in to a tiny living room (since the weather meant the planned garden party was a goner) and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house as Jarrod’s daddy struggled to get through his speech about the long journey that he and his wife went through to complete their family with the birth of Jarrod. “Think about football”, his wife whispered throughout in a bid to help him get on top of his emotions. But we didn’t care, we loved it! Let’s hear it for a few tears at the memory of life’s struggles…let’s have a few more in celebration of the love that those two parents and two children have for each other…no wonder Jarrod’s Dad couldn’t blink the tears back, the rest of us were in pieces!

Neither of my boys are baptised, and nor did we have a naming ceremony. I didn’t have the strength for the battle it was going to take to get them baptised and, to be honest, a naming ceremony didn’t really occur to me. I regret that now, having been a part of yesterday’s proceedings. I assumed, I supposed, that a secular ceremony would be little more than a party to welcome the new addition (no shame in that!). But I was quite wrong. It was so moving and so very personal, and hearing the baby’s father speak so plainly of his great joy and pride was something that will stay with me for longer than the usual renouncing of the devil and all his works. Watching the baby’s big sister, Iris, light a candle for him, not as a symbol of Christ’s love, but as a symbol of hope for the future was really something special. A lovely, touching moment…and all so personal. I particularly enjoyed the baby being ‘given’ his name his father…’I give you the name…’. It was so strong, so powerful and emotive.

I wish we live nearer these friends. We lived around the corner from each other when we lived in London. Our first borns made difficult entrances in to the world, and Emma and I bonded over gallons of tea and tears over our traumatic births. The surprise arrival of Digby deepened our bond, as only Emma could truly appreciate the real terror I felt of a second bout of childbirth and its potential for further physical damage. He wasn’t an easy baby and the small age gap between him and Bertie made for some complicated ‘jiggly juggly’ as I called it….made a little easier by a regular Tuesday afternoon play with Emma and her daughter. Emma held the baby, I attempted to get some one:one time with Bertie although mostly he wanted to hangout with his little playmate. So I made tea and ate biscuits and tried not to weep with gratitude. No change there then.

Later, Emma went back to work to continue her training as a doctor and our playdates changed to Iris with daddy, Euan, in tow. Diggy ADORED Euan, he was one of the few people that could stop Diggy’s howling in the blink of an eye, and he was never happier than being carried around by Euan. And Euan loved loved LOVED carrying him around. And I loved anyone who would take that little howler off me for a breather…not least so I could attempt to spend a little time with Bertie without a screamer attached to me. In short, Emma, Euan and Iris were a huge part of our lives when we lived in London, and played a bigger part in keeping me ‘slightly’ sane during those testing 2 under 2 years than they will ever know.

I wish I could reciprocate with a bit of help with the jiggly juggly thing that is invariably part of having a small child and a baby in the house. And I wish I could watch Jarrod grow up in close proximity rather than through photos and emails. I love our ‘new’ life here in Suffolk, but there are some people I wish I could transplant here and Family Jarrod are one of them.

So, here’s to friends…and absence making the heart growing fonder. And to lovely Jarrod, so longed for and so loved xxx

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Guest blogging

Posted under Photography

2 Comments »

I guest blogged for Relyn of Come Sit by my Fire last week as part of her series on “Passions”. No prizes for guessing that I wrote about photography, although crochet is a very close second these days. I like guest blogging, I like writing to a brief as a change to just starting to write a blog post and seeing where it takes me. And writing to a deadline is a good discipline every once in a while, plus it’s fun hanging out on someone else’s blog and chattering to a slightly different group of bloggy readers.

Here’s my post if you haven’t already heard enough of me wittering on about photography. And if you’re looking for guest bloggers then I’m up for a challenge.

And if you’re not interested in guest blogging or yet more photography chat from me, then help yourself to a biscuit from up there. Cleverly made by my lovely friend Emma whilst juggling a 4 year old, a 4 month old and preparing a buffet for 30 people. <—— superwoman. xx

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