I love the 70s. The older I get the more I love the 70s….the fashion, the music, the photos, the cars. I love the 70s, shoot me if you must.

Neatly, I was born in 1970 so the 70s, for me, were all about my childhood from 0-10. I guess it’s normal to look back at our childhood with a fond nostalgia but, really, the 70s were coolest weren’t they? All that hippy hippy shake and Ford Capris and Wagon Wheels and Trumpton and [insert your own fond 70s memory].  I am blessed to be a child of the 70s…we weren’t even metric when I was born. THAT’S how totally ‘rad’ I am. I’m Old Skool, baby, Old Skool…

If my life wasn’t packed up in a storage container I’d drag out my 70s photos to share at this point. Those slightly yellow, square, rounded corner, slightly textured shots…with ‘Date taken….Who….Where…..’ and lines printed on the back for you to fill in the gory details.  Although the 70s were the ‘Chubby Years’ for me so I’m probably doing you a kindness by sparing you the fat grumpy looking kid.

When I think of my childhood I think of summer. Long, hot, summers…where the sun shone every day and we played out from morning til night. Clearly I’ve scrubbed out the other 98% of my childhood when it was freezing and it chucked it down. I think I remember it was hot/sunny because all the photos are taken on sunny days. Because film was expensive, getting photos developed was really expensive and those funny little flash bulbs that rotated on the top of your camera cost bazillion. So my parents limited their photography to sunny days and I bet there weren’t alone. Who else remembers the 70s as one long…hot…summer? And I’m not just talking about 1976 either.

Yesterday a little bit of the 70s came around to visit.  The sun really WAS shining. So the boys stripped off and spent the afternoon dipping themselves in our neighbours’ huge paddling pool until their lips turned blue with cold. Then they snuggled up in towels in the sun to warm up…ran around….played with the dogs….had a picnic tea and then played out until bedtime watching their shadows grow longer and longer. Both boys were filthy when I got them home, smeared with tomato and chocolate cake and homemade blueberry sorbet (very 00s…in the 70s it would have been Walls ice cream, hard as a rock, vanilla and perhaps in a wafer sandwich if you were VERY fancy). I took it to be the sign of a good afternoon.

Pretty much every photo I took yesterday with my Big Girl’s Camera is rubbish. All the photos in this post were taken with my iphone. Apparently I can return my £3,000 of Nikon kit and just stick with my phone. So that’s good isn’t it? There’s something about the late afternoon light, ‘Colin’ the caravan and the swing which smacks me right back in my own childhood. Simple pleasures…being outside…friends…water…swings. This is the stuff of memories.

When my boys are grown I hope they’ll look back to their childhood with the same kind of nostalgia that I do for my own. I’m sure they don’t realise just how lucky they are to live the lives they do, why should they? But to live on a farm (albeit not ours!), right next to their best friends in the world, pottering around the place and over to each other’s houses when they fancy, near the sea, me at home with them…they are so very fortunate. I feel their fortune ‘for’ them, but I hope they will look back and feel it too. And I hope they will get over their inevitable teenage fury that we moved out of London to be here when “IT’S SOOOOOOOOO BORING!!!!”. If they have their own children, I assume they’ll understand why we moved. If not, well tant pis, we did it for all the right reasons.

The 00s are the new 70s you know. I’m recreating it right here. One strangely clad child at a time.

BS…BS…BS…BS??? Blue Skies….Big Smiles….British Springtime…Balmy Suffolk (or should that be Barmy Suffolk?)…Beach Strolls…no Bull Shit…

Spring has sprung, it’s official. Brilliant blue skies, sunshine, warm breezes, hanging out on the beach without wanting to cry after 5 minutes = the first signs of Spring and I’m giddy with it. I don’t think I’m alone…

Thanks to The Domestic Sensualists via Julochka via Julochka’s grandmother for the gift of Banana Bread. And a special big thanks to Julochka’s daughter, Sabin, for her inspired addition of vast chunks of chocolate to the recipe. Such insight at the tender age of 9! Banana and chocolate go together like, er, banana and chocolate. Yum.

Lesson One of the the Day: I am more capable of baking than I thought. But I did have a little ‘helper’ so perhaps it was the 3 year old’s supervision which made all the difference?

Bertie went for a bike ride with MrSpud this morning. As in, both Bertie AND MrSpud were on bikes…that feels so grown up to me. Won’t be long before they can all push off for the weekend camping/mountaineering/deering doing etc etc while I recline on the sofa with wine and a trashy magazine for a couple of days. Bliss….

While Bertie and MrSpud were off jollying, I stayed home with Diggy to make the cake and then indulge in a little light crafting. First of all we created the above masterpiece with stamps. And, just when I was really getting in to it, he changed all the rules and told me that “the fun part is taking the stamps off and making them in to a cosy nest for the birds”. So he pulled all the stamps apart, made his “cosy nest” and told me off for being “too noisy” anytime I attempted to sneak in another stamp on to our picture. This continued for another 20 minutes until he decided to use the “jellies” (stamps) as decorations. Scream.

Lesson Two of the Day: children play, create and learn in ways which really should be a surprise to me anymore. They pretty much NEVER use a toy, implement, ‘thing’ for its intended purpose but spin off in to a truly creative place. I need to learn to unclench and go with it.

This wonderful bracelet arrived in the post today, a gorgeous and thoughtful gift from Shannon at An Enlightened Heart. There’s a story behind this bracelet and what it means to me but, suffice to say, it’s a perfect gift. I’m embarrassed that I don’t have a better photo…this one doesn’t show the gorgeous red heart bead embellishment and heart shaped clasp around the back. She’s so clever, her work(wo)manship is stunning. But it’s her warm and generous nature which makes this something I will treasure forever.

I’ve had a number of lovely gifts from bloggers in recent months. I haven’t blogged about them because I haven’t wanted to embarrass the senders but,  what the hell, they’ll get over it. So, in the hope of not missing anyone out, thank you to Ali at Inner Rambling of a Mid Life Mama, to rxBambi at A Day in the Life of a Would Be Bambi, Janet at Are We There Yet?, Blanca at Cuttings on a Blog and Vancouver’s Enviro Girl at The Misadventures of VEG for your lovely, thoughtful and wonderful gifts. Plus all the Blog Campers, of course. You’re all in my Best Book forever. The rest of you? Consider yourself grudged ;-)

Lesson Three of the Day: I’m feeling the love, man, feeling the love…..man, I LOVE feeling the love. Man. Etc etc etc.

Here endeth the lessons. xx

]]> http://www.spudballoo.com/2010/02/saturday-snippets-what-i-learnt-today/feed/ 7 http://www.spudballoo.com/2010/02/a-day-in-the-life-of-diggy/ http://www.spudballoo.com/2010/02/a-day-in-the-life-of-diggy/#comments Sat, 20 Feb 2010 07:58:33 +0000 spudballoo http://www.spudballoo.com/?p=1258

Last Sunday was a busy busy busy day for Megaboy 2. Much of the day was spent dressed as an elf, because you can never be ready for Christmas too early can you? Then there were models to make…

Puzzles to be puzzled…

Most excitingly, there was a Big Boy’s Bed to be made with a lot of “help” from those Megaboys…

Phew, exhausting…time for a quick cuddle and kiss…

and a little sit down…

No time for sitting around all day though! Onwards….time to make ‘mud cake’…

All these things take a lot of concentration you know. Like this…

and this

and this

Bless my little boy, tongue out with the effort of it all. Reminds me of when he was a baby and he constantly stuck his tongue out like this…

Ooof what a busy day, very tiring for a little boy who couldn’t wait to sleep in his Big Boy’s Bed.  So much so that he got in and snuggled down before I’d got chance to put his pyjamas on him. Sweet boy of mine xx

]]> http://www.spudballoo.com/2010/02/a-day-in-the-life-of-diggy/feed/ 10 http://www.spudballoo.com/2010/02/wordless-weekend/ http://www.spudballoo.com/2010/02/wordless-weekend/#comments Mon, 08 Feb 2010 08:34:04 +0000 spudballoo http://www.spudballoo.com/?p=1215 Saturday…I helped my lovely friend Katherine relaunch her deli business at a local farmers market and it looked like this…

Sunday…Diggy’s 3rd birthday…I made a birthday cake, the first one I’ve ever made (and one of my 39 before 40 tasks)…it turned out better than I dared hope and tasted pretty good (faints in amazement)

And then we had a little teaparty for him with a couple of friends. They played, they jumped, they danced, they ate, they ate, they ate, they ate, and then they passed the parcel wearing a variety of hats:

Digby. Diggy. Diggs. Diggydo. Diggers. Diggery. Diggerygo. MrGrumpy. MrWonderful…

Three years old and how time has flown/dragged since you rocked up. You are so willful, feisty, grumpy, delightful, charming, hilarious in equal measures. ‘Good value’, that’s what we say about you….no half measures…all or nothing…a whirlwind, a hurricane….our little miracle baby.

We are so glad you came along, with your white blonde “springs” (curls) and eyes as blue as the sky. We love your lisp, your earnestness, your huge enthusiasm for life and your total and utter lack of any kind “sense of consequence” (as Batman used to say).

You charm us with your unwavering love for your girlfriend Clara, the way you worship your brother and your insistence on “not LOADS of kithess….jutht only one”  You know your mind and you have done from the second you were born. Long may it continue.

Happy Birthday Baby Boy xx

He’s currently residing Chez Spud. Bit grumpy and not that bothered about saving the world to be honest…mostly interested in licking off his face paint.

They didn’t put that in the movie did they?

Mr Diggy had his first ‘proper’ haircut today. I’m not counting the random chopping I’ve done over the last few months. But his lovely curls had gone from angelic to dragged-through-a-hedge-backwards and it was time to call in the The Professionals.

So I hauled myself out of my sick bed, and dragged those Megaboys to the children’s hairdressers for a chop. Bertie no longer looks like a girl, and Diggy now looks angelic again.

Here he is, sitting on the chair making eyes at the hairdresser and taken with my shiny new camera [swoon], a self-present to celebrate one year of photography, five years of marriage, 39 years of being alive and Christmas.

I’m still getting to grips with it and I will be for a while. But I’m pretty pleased with how this turned out, taken at ISO 1250 using available light. The D70 couldn’t cope with anything over ISO 400 without excessive noise and blur. I’m so pleased to be able to take sharp shots in very low light conditions without resorting to flash.

I love my self-present so much that I’m putting forward a proposal that self-presenting is the new praying. Do I have a seconder? Move over writing, your time is up….you’re pretty cool and improving and all that ….but we just want presents. Thank you x

My little world, seen through a glass, darkly. Or, more accurately, reflected in a garden ornament…me in regulation green wellies, Bertie with his handbag, MrSpud displaying freakish jazz hands, Klingon Baby Diggy in a sling, one little fat leg poking out…our house…our garden…pig food lurking in the background.

My husband, my sons, my home, my life. 1, 2, 3, 4…that’s me counting my blessings x

Inspired by Janet of Are We There Yet? [random fact...I share a birthday with her] I’ve hitched a ride on the Postcrossing bandwagon…because who doesn’t like getting lovely things in the post? Chuck in the frisson of excitement of lovely things in the post from total strangers and you can see why the bandwagon is looking a little crowded these days.

I’m pretending to do it for my boys, using each card as a learning opportunity about new places, new people, different cultures and the like. A globe has been purchased and a system for displaying and then filing the postcards has been established. As things progress I will likely create an appropriate taxonomy for the cards but I’m way ahead of myself as…um…I haven’t actually received any yet.

But I will do, and any day now. I’ve briefed Postman Andy not to be afraid of me pouncing on him again each day, eager to inspect his wares. He’s not yet recovered from the 30 Secrets project and wild accusations of wig stealing…but I digress.

Not content with just picking up a few postcards of our local town for the project, I have had some of my photos made in to postcards by the wonderful people at Moo.  Chuck in some Moo Stickers to decorate said cards with and I’m good to go. These aren’t just postcards…they’re works of art. Preens preens..ra ra ra…

So I dragged my boys in to town today to send postcards to Finland and the USA. Whilst there I remembered that, outside the library, is a funny little French postbox which seems completely out of place given that we live in, er, Britain. So we investigated as I thought it would be a fitting departure lounge for my  finely crafted and exquisite works of art postcards. Well, I investigated…the boys did this until they got dizzy and fell over…

I hadn’t misremembered…right next to the ‘real’ postbox is this French one, a gift to the town from its ‘twin town’ in France in 1991. A little odd…couldn’t they have sent a lifetime’s supply of some cheeky little red for everyone or something? It’s on the shabbier side of shabby chic, don’t you think? Look at the fine, British post box…brave, tall and RED…long live the Queen etc etc….then compare and contrast with the French number…1-0 to les rosbifs I think…

Let’s look a bit closer shall we? Well, it’s kind of pretty and ornate…and rather quaint actually. ‘Saturday’s collection has been done’ it says…good to know. But, no, wait! It’s Friday today…that’s a bit worrying. What the hell has Postman Andy been doing since last Saturday? Wearing my bloody wig I bet. Suddenly, the French option is looking less appealing. Worse, look at this sign next to it…

Now this is a real worry…so there’s one collection a day, not ideal but this is the country afterall…they only collect for a couple of months of the year, hmmm now that’s quite slack…but even more worrying…collections are only made Monday to Friday. WHAT? Scroll up…the box says it was last emptied on Saturday. BUT THEY DON’T COLLECT ON A SATURDAY! WTF… is this  some kind of joke and, if so, who is the joke on? And who’s going to have the last laugh? I bet that box is stuffed full of postcards from 1991 and it’s never once been emptied…Postman Andy, I’m on to you…be afraid.

But, seriously, who thought this was a good idea? Apart from mentalists like me, who would choose to post their labouriously scribbled postcards in a dodgy looking ‘pretend’ mailbox when one of Her Royal Maj’s real deal boxes is standing right next to it? I’ll bet it was one of ‘those’ local council meetings when that phoney ‘postbox’ arrived…they must have all sat round puzzling at it, going “Merde! Zut alors! What are we going to do with ‘that’…it’s embarrassing”. Then someone piped up, “I know, I know…shove it on the wall round the back of the library where no one really goes anyway but put it next to a real postbox…then add some confusing information about ‘collections’…and tell Postman Andy not to bother collecting from it anyway. Actually, scratch that…let’s just chuck the key away and be done with it. No one will ever know. Now, shall we have a nice cup of tea and some biscuits?”

For myself? I voted with my feet…I chose British…Rule Britannia! And all who sail in her…

I’ve been a-pondering…and this is my ‘ponder’….that this is the first year in my whole life that I’ve been acutely aware of the passing of the seasons which, I suppose, is due to living in the country. Previously the seasons have been measured and defined by Spring/Summer and Autumn/Winter collections and, when I lived with my parents, the dates when the central heating was ceremoniously turned on and off (1 October and 1 April…regardless of the weather). But this year nature has unfolded its seasons for me RIGHT THERE in my garden, in the fields, in the hedgerows…a veritable gala performance, just for me. Fancy that!

The phrase “One swallow does not make a spring” meant nothing to me until this year, when the first swallows arrived and we watched them swoop and dive, then nest in stables and outbuildings and have babies. Then the swifts rocked up and, having ensconced themselves in our roof, the fun really began. Last year we had barn owls nesting in our neighbour’s barn…alas, no such luck this year although we’ve spotted a couple out hunting at dusk. Since when did I dig birds?! Look at me…I’m a twitcher (faints dead away).

Enough of the birds, let’s talk road safety…who knew that the passing of the seasons could have such a dramatic effect on road safety and, more specifically, the drive from our home to the boys’ nursery. It’s not a long journey, but it’s challenging and is thus not-so-affectionately known as the ‘Drive of Doom’ Chez Spud. In the winter, we slipped and slid up the lanes on black ice and mud on the roads…now the summer is here we zip round corners completely blind, unable to see approaching traffic because of the luscious hedgerows. It took me a week to realise why I could not longer ‘get the view’ for a particularly heart stopping ‘corner plus blind summit’ combo…ah, bless my little city girl cotton socks.

But the main stage for the seasonal drama is, of course, right outside my window. We are very fortunate to have inherited a mature garden, well stocked with all kinds of plants, shrubs, trees and, especially, flowers. There has been a delicious sense of expectation, of ‘ooh what next?!’ all through the year. I tell you, it’s better than telly..from the first snowdrops of the year,

…to carpets of violets, first sweet smelling purple ones then white …

..and hyacinths; pink, white and blue plus banks of these lovely grape hyacinths…

..and, of course, daffodils…dominating the garden for a few weeks, so many different types I lost count…

…and blossom, blossom everywhere…

…plus, my favourite, helibores…

..then up popped the foxgloves…

…soon replaced by vast hollyhocks in pink, purple and white…

…and all of a sudden it was summer, and there were daisies and buttercups in the meadows and poppies..poppies..poppies everywhere…

…roses all over the place of course, and this huge bank of lovely blue flowers (what are they?) which were out for a couple of weeks and then disappeared, literally overnight  (bye! see you next year) …

…and red hot pokers, ornamental daisies and irises (again, they didn’t last long – it’s surprising how fleeting some visitors are)…

…and then a whole field of huge thistles in front of our office, beloved by butterflies, bees and goldfinches…

I could go on, but you get the picture.  Sadly, it already it feels like we’re all done with summer; the nights are drawing in and the garden is gearing up for Autumn . The blossom on the blackberries is nearly gone and the fruit is starting to form – perhaps this year we’ll manage not to eat the ones we pick as we walk back to the house? Perhaps I will finally get to make a blackberry crumble? The tomatoes are yet to ripen, and yet I’m already planning chutney with the leftovers. The blossom on the apple trees has done its stuff…

… and perhaps this year we will get to eat them before the deer do. Oooh blackberry and apple crumble? And, squeeks excitedly, a vast pumpkin patch is lurking at the bottom of the garden, all ready for Halloween…

To everything there is a season…here is Bertie in the field in January…

…same spot, in March…

…and, finally, Diggy in the same spot in June…

I must remember to get a snap in the same place in the Autumn…ideally troughing our way through a vast blackberry and apple crumble. To everything there is a season…