Stop, look, listen.

Having exceeded the average number of sproglets per centile of the UK population, I’ve experienced ‘The Look’ a number of times on innumerable situations in years gone by, never seeing it coming, until it’s too late, much too late. I am of course now a fully paid up member of the ‘Stop! Just think it, don’t whatever you do, say it” brigade. I have the badge, the t-shirt and the t-towel, as opposed to the baseball cap, (it’s an age thing). I just know.

Witnessing the look as a bystander, as opposed to the recipient it’s intended for, it is no less deathly but I can safely say, as the words were uttered, I did indeed see it coming.

Shopping and exploratory trips to Oxford Street, Camden, Battersea. The theatre in Soho for the shared experience of all things strange. Friendship and parent /child relations blossoming beautifully and two becoming one as they journeyed home vowing to do it all again soon.

Just a day or two later, gathered as kindred spirits at the homestead, the atmosphere of warmth and joy cutting sharply through the age divides, as if from a West End production, there was a strong reminder that teenagers are unfathomable…. The resounding gong that some things are not so strange. Generation after generation making their presence as teenagers on the world stage. Expressing themselves as only teens can, with panache, style and irreverence but absolutely zero tolerance for the behaviour of their guardians. Protocol will not be overlooked for our precious teens or their solid communities, they rule the world…..

Hero to Zero….

Amongst the sound of laughter, chatter, squealing and Bob Harris on a chilled Sunday, with the aroma of a roasted Sirloin joint wafting around the homestead, we heard;

“If you’re hot, why don’t you detach the sleeves?”

Stage notes- ‘thunder, lightning, apocalypse music, (whatever that is), a freezing blizzard hitting the South-East, turning everything white and still’) nothing more so than the bearer of the unthinkable suggestion. And then…………The Look.

Actually detach the sleeves on your super cool All Saints hoodie with studded detachable arms?! (which are clearly never going to be detached while this uber conscious fashion teen is in possession.) What on earth was the responsible adult in this situation thinking before uttering those immortalised words? Was there no consideration for the previous hours of the teen; spent thinking and eventually deciding what to wear so as not to look as if any effort had been deployed.  Alas, too late. Words uttered, teen’s frozen stare straight towards the donor, chilling the room to sub temperatures. A simple suggestion cutting through the atmosphere as only a caring comment from a kind, loving parent can achieve. Painful, regrettable, ultimately expensive. Thankfully, we turned the heating up and he did eventually defrost.

So, they begin again; shopping trips, theatre experiences, maybe even a gig or two and a gentle reminder that silence can be truly golden.

Still thanking our lucky stars for all we have at the homestead and beyond. Feeling even more thankful after a gorgeous sunny Bank Holiday where we celebrated (and we know how to celebrate round here!) the long-awaited 12^th birthday of the Grandest Sproglet and the not so eagerly anticipated arrival of 6 decades and two years for Mr G. He didn’t cry..much..for long.

The sun shone, the bbq crackled, fizzy pop popped, Giant Wotsits stole 1^St prize in the fave snack category of both the ancient and the juveniles and the pool was well and truly bathed in.  The two youngest of the Crew who are both beams of light that radiate joy and love in abundance were happy to be swaddled, cuddled, cooed at and chased, in no particular order but the chasing only refers to our blue-eyed boy who definitely takes after his male cousin when it comes to shaking adults off when he’s on his walkabouts.

Watching the crazy antics as well as beautiful friendships amongst the GS Crew is both heart-warming and at times overwhelming in it’s simplicity and naivety. If there was a way to pause time just for a little time to take in and take stock of who they already are with their growing personalities and thirst for knowledge and adventure, then this would be the time I’d choose. They are the greatest gift. When I said we are lucky, I wasn’t exaggerating.

Our blonde, beautiful, clever, kind and beauty obsessed 12 year old chose Westfield, Stratford for her birthday outing of choice. She memorised the centre map, worked out the quickest route and decided she wanted to be there pre-opening time. Mum and Dad being the proud parents making this momentous event happen went along with her every request and they dutifully and magically (given the sometimes, scandalous tail-backs at the Blackwall Tunnel), arrived at 9.58, phew! She had the birthday of her dreams and very well deserved it was. She even managed to wag herself a free gigantic ice-cream roll (I know, I’d never heard of one either), from Pan-n-Ice (hadn’t heard of them either!) for happily obliging them with a nifty dance routine for their TikTok. Happy happy birthday to you our gorgeous 12 year old. Keep on doing what you’re doing, you are amazing in every which way.

One of the things I hadn’t anticipated happening around here was the ever-growing need for a Croc-Station, they’re all wearing them; light blue, navy blue, green, white, lilac, multi.  Our 12 year old opened a new pair on birthday morning; greige (is that a colour?) Mr G never saw himself as a dedicated follower of fashion, now he has his own tribe of Croc mates, who’d have thought it? The Golden Hound doesn’t know which one to pick up and parade anymore, his choice is vast and sends him into a tail-spin. A familiar cry around the homestead from varying sizes of persons these days is “Have you seen my Croc/s?” instead of just the one Croc-devotee.

On a much more serious note because I can’t help but link the similarities…..My thinking since the BH weekend has been all consumed by thanks and gratitude. Having been around for a host of decades, I’m all too familiar with how to live for the moment. Two incredibly sad and touching stories in the last few weeks have heightened that emotion further. The first being someone the very same age as me with loving family and grandchildren going for an appointment and never coming home. I cannot get my head around leaving home and not knowing you won’t ever come back. The second is a tragic accident that turned the life of a beautiful 12 year old and that of her family around, for ever. Our family are incredibly close; aunties are more like big sisters and uncles like big bro’s, all friends and allies, looking out for each other, always. When an old school acquaintance of one of our girls reached out and told her story of her incredible niece, our hearts as a family went out to them and you will understand why celebrating this weekend as we have done has never ever felt so important. Each and every day we are on this planet is a day to be celebrated with thanks and gratitude….   https://justgiving.com/crowdfunding/grace-tutt-12

They said Darcy was on her way, they were right, she arrived. The expanse of icing sugar carpet across the homestead is stunning and pretty much unspoilt. Blondie thought she’d be instagramming some  spectacular  feature shots and movie clips when she went walking out in the dark with our four-legged man mountain last night. She was out for all of 4 minutes…then the house phone rung and obviously we guessed it was her and  there’d  been an incident of a kind… She screamed down the phone “He’s got a mouse, it’s tail’s sticking out and wiggling!” Of course she had my sympathy, but it was difficult to tell because of the laughter coming from the indoors end of the telephone line. At the back of the homestead, through the window, we saw her  hurtling up the garden at the only speed the deep snow would allow; slow and difficult. By the time, we’d got to the back door to let the squealing Blonde one indoors, the Golden One had caught up with her to show off his prize. Think he was wondering why he hadn’t been congratulated on his catch of the day, up until that point, he’d only managed a couple of lengthy twigs and a plastic tub that was once a useful garden accessory; no more.

Once the Blonde one had manage to extricate herself from the wellies which had only done half a job because they were only half a pair (well, a whole pair that only came halfway up her leg). Obviously if we’d known Darcy was on her way, we would have rethought that useful Christmas gift and bought her a pair that actually did the job of keeping her feet dry as opposed to filled with snow and ice…all the way up!

Mr G saved the day; he usually does, and wrestled the now, still jerry from the GO’s unrelenting jaws and sent it on its way down the food chain for another wild beast to find. Think that’s the end of the Blonde One’s late night film career, she can’t handle the excitement, to be fair, not sure we can either.

Bliss…..

Saying goodbye (ish) to our bathroom fixer today. We made it back into our own room and bed last night…means the ibuprofen doesn’t need to come out both before bedtime and once again during the night. WoW, WoW, WoW, we have the comfiest mattress in the whole world, even The Merrion in Dublin’s fair city would struggle to compete. What with the best mattress ITW and the freshly washed linen, we were both feeling born again by the time our heads hit the pillow last night.

The ‘Art’ful Dodger

Well, our very own Banksy, who’d have thought it? Before our very eyes, planning and then executing the extraordinary (not quite what his mum called it), mural on the feature wall that he had assumed was waiting for him to pop on by, readily equipped with all manner of arty paraphernalia. The mum in question tried to release him for adoption later that day, only for her to realise his cuteness and inability to say sorry and mean it, makes him a liability to the outside world- everybody would go soft in his company… “ Sowwy”.

Slow motion and motionless..

In these unusual times, can’t work out how the weather has left us so grounded. The snow upped and left and left behind it rain; a lot of rain. Prior to the snow, which we’ve experienced a fair few times at this time of year on the homestead, we were still venturing out, restrictions allowing of course. Then the white mist arrived and quite literally stopped us in our tracks. Apart from the fact it was difficult to get anywhere fast, the snow fast tracked to ice and we were marooned…

Things…. like a walk in the park…

Waiting for baby news has been exciting and mood lifting; exactly what we all need to take away the misery and anxiety of Lockdown. Daily phone calls for twinge updates and “what’s for dinner” conversations ( I always ask). 23^rd Feb was a walk in the park (a literal one), late midwife appointment; “head down, ready to go” and then back home for mum to be’s ‘fancy’ of steak, mash and broccoli. “Enjoy” was my parting call as I left them to it. Not too many more of evenings on their own in front of the fire with dinner on their laps….

YaY!

Insomnia filled the air and an early shower and tea in the kitchen early morn was interrupted by house phone. “Where’s your mobile? Said he. “On charge” said I. “Go and get it” he said impatiently. So I did. Excited at the thought they were on their way to hospital and hopefully we’d be hearing news sometime in next 24 hours. “Oh my God” long pause “Oh my God” shorter pause followed by tears, lots of tears and then Mr G checking out the commotion. And there they were. Our new little family, actually 3 people on screen. One of them tiny and snoozy and the other two probably feeling snoozy but elated, and filled with smiley happy faces. Welcome to the world little one. You have brightened our lives in a matter of moments. Can’t wait to meet you!

Mashing it…..

Mum to be didn’t get to eat her fancy of steak and mash, much to the Blonde One’s lament when she eyed it up about 16 hours later…..”Poor mtb”, she sympathised, “Looked like good mash.” Can’t help thinking she might have downed it if she’d been on her own, but no, she held back and raided the fridge for chocolate cake instead; would have been rude to leave her eating on her own; that was very good cake!

Families come in all shapes and sizes, forms and formats, strengths and weaknesses, talents and skills and an abundance of other stuff that all mix together and in some instances may produce dynamite of a kind, making get-togethers sometimes explosive. Our brood are more than lucky, we are privileged to get all mixed up and come out in a smooth blend. Liking each other is a good start and then complimenting (I don’t mean “I like your new hair-do” kind of compliment;) I mean balancing each other’s character traits is a real bonus. We’ve got tact and diplomacy, generosity and kindness, thoughtfulness and caring, honest and truthful, trusting and discreet (that’s just the little people), and amongst us all we have respect for each other and ourselves. I’m reminded of this after reading a recent novel where a whole load of family stuff was offloaded after a family member suffered concussion and blurted it out at a dinner party leaving the family that had gathered for a celebration, with mouths and eyes wide open and feet shuffling uncomfortably backwards to retreat and find a bunker, somewhere buried deep underground. Got me thinking about just how much everyone knows about other people these days. From where we’re going, what we’re doing and usually who we’re doing it with. Information can be sought 24/7 and in very little time. In usual times, us lot would all know what each other were up to from the usual communication lines and from actually seeing each other and even hugging, can you believe it? I’m not sure that double (or if you’re really annoying, treble kissing; one on each cheek and one for luck) will ever be back en vogue. At least it gets rid of that initial awkwardness on meeting ; shall I shan’t I, will they, won’t they? I might have to find an alternative to elbow bumping though, that’s way to “Whattssupppp?” for me.

We miss you…..

At the homestead, we are definitely missing every kind of greeting, whether en vogue or traditional ‘back in the day’. We just miss everybody, all persons great and small and when we finally get to meet again, the celebration will be one to remember. I’m already planning the decs…

Hurricane the Great….

The Go has hardly entered the homestead today. He’s so frightened of missing something, anything, that he has hovered outside, keeping a watchful eye on all entries and exits all day. I did go to find him earlier and find him I did; munching on the remnants of a terracotta urn. I’m beginning to wonder if he has Greek origins.

Pride….

When a Geordie actor sung about Crocodile Shoes back in G knows when, did he know what was coming…Crocs. Mr G loves his collection. The first pair bought by the man himself when we ventured into a shopping outlet looking for a cute pink pair for our only Grand Sproglet ,at the time. Would I have ventured in if I’d known the style faux pas that would ensue after this visit, probably not is the answer. The rest of the collection were gifted across birthdays, Christmas, holiday times… The pair that usurped all the others (thank you Wise One and MtB!), are the Lockdown rainbow pair that were opened just before a glorious holiday to the Scilly Isles and worn with Pride (the capital P is intentional). The first week was fine and nicely blended ( in a cosy self catering abode with just enough room for two). The second, in a 5 star residence, not so much of a blend and more of an ‘I’ve arrived’ kind of vibe. Still, at least we didn’t need to ring for waiter service.

Bramley Productions…

The Blue Whale was much appreciated by Mrs Coles and Co. So much so that The Supertato came along very quickly behind him. This was a well thought out video production where props and accessories had already been thought through before the camera rolled. Our Blonde one was worried about the fate of the bananas in scene 2, expecting them to end up as landfill but she was quickly reassured by the Bramley Cottage mum that they had been ingested earlier that same day by the Cheeky Girls themselves. Quentin Tarantino had to start somewhere; maybe the next production should have an age rating? The eldest Grande Sprog ( her of the early Crocs), entirely clad in tie-dye is still waiting patiently for the results of the TB competition. She also has the unenviable task of trying to be an almost (!) grown up almost 9 year old whilst not stealing the thunder from the Blue Whale Maker or the noisy ginger Dora (the explorer), who gets in everywhere.

Catch me if you can….

Over in Downswood, the mighty Liz has been executing her own productions and the Popsicle and the Dodger feature heavily. Any excuse for a photo opportunity. The Dodger is quite literally, here, there, and everywhere. I’m not sure The great Liz has time to refocus before he’s moved on to the next activity. Our rainbow-legged Popsicle is taking it all in her stride. She’s getting the time and space to do things in her own way whilst he’s busy doing his.

Countdown…..

Midwife said “YaY, everything good”, we all said” YAY” in unison right back to her. Weeks have flown up to this point, I feel they’re about to slow down; Sorry you two, I mean three!

Ruby Tuesday….

I’ve declared Tuesday’s to always be Rubies. Monday’s are always leftovers revitalised (unless you don’t have enough to leave over), and then it’s probably fish pie or something else requiring Maris Piper as a topping.

Chicken Tikka, black dahl, basmati and naan, we are done….Looking forward to sharing a Ruby with the other Grown Ups when we get to the other side, let’s hope no one gets a bump on the head before then…

Half a world away….

Heard late tonight that Liam Gallagher’s daschund Ruby Tuesday left this world today…. can guess what they’re listening to in Muswell Hill tonight…..

Busy afternoon at the homestead…Blondie working out on the driveway, Mrs G in the kitchen, Mr G chopping, splitting, carrying and eventually lighting. Roast beef dinner much appreciated and washing up, not so appreciated by the washer-upper, dutifully done. Over at Bramley Cottage, Attenborough would be happy; there’s a blue whale, come to think of it, Alan Davies would be happy too; always extra points for a blue whale on QI. Curly Sue is not following in big sis’, or mum’s primary school syllabus for that matter and doing The Rainbow Fish (how, we loved the Rainbow Fish). For Curly Sue and class mates project, they’re doing The Blue Whale and mum and dad, along with big sis and probably less of little sis (she pefers Peppa), have helped her create it. I am reliably informed it’s done (along with some smaller sea creatures). it’s painted and is patiently waiting to dry before being unleashed on Mrs Coles tomorrow. All mum and dad need to do is find a space for it to live until Curly Sue leaves home (trust me, I know this stuff, you can’t just bin it, it’s like a bag for life!, Way too much guilt attached…). I only hope Mrs Coles appreciates the time and labour, but we don’t need to unduly worry, Curly Sue will make it clear, of that we can all be sure.

The Popsicle and the Dodger spent another day adventuring. They really are here, there and everywhere; The Beatles I think Mr F?). The Dodger was eyeing up the carrots before dad stepped in and offered it to the waiting mare, “Phew “thought the Dodger, I prefer donuts!

We’re about to retire to our cosy retreat, enjoying the remnants of Sunday (not Christmas, that’s another task for tomorrow)…..

Galoshes; that’s what’s called for today. Wellies sound like a fun shoe/boot name to lark around in whilst galoshes imply it’s wet, very vet, very slushy and only galoshes will do. Galoshes and mackintosh; both great wet weather words that make me think of Dr Foster, not the one off the TV, the other one that went to Gloucester, just the once. The gorgeous sunshine and amethyst sky we’ve enjoyed intermittently this week has upped and left us. We’re back to a heap of sodden towels decorating the kitchen floor, courtesy of the GO. He’s in and out and in and out and then shaking it all about. You might think a quick rub down with a dry towel would do the trick…no, it doesn’t suffice because he has dirt, dust and debris in every crease and fold of skin from the tip of his scarred nose (a war wound from a battle we think), to his ginormous toes. He is his very own bug hotel, something in there for every critter to munch on.

Chilling and Chilli

Everyone jaded at the homestead today after Friday night’s kitchen soiree. It’s the kind of day that will turn to night before we’ve had a chance to get started, on anything. Saturday used to be a buzzing day where loads of things overlapped, our cars would be in and out all day and it was rare to sit down before about 9pm. Today, it’s chilled and toasty with lots of tea and comfort and bouts of tv and books and a log fire…maybe Saturday has become the new Sunday. One things for sure; It’s a day to be thankful for having leftover chilli in the freezer..Hallelujah, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Yo sushi….

There’s a rumour circulating that the topping out ceremony for the bathroom might be next Friday. Oh how we’ll miss doing our 10,000 steps every night backwards and forwards to bathroom.; an age thing for sure, (unless you’re the mum to be, she’s making a few extra visits too). Creeping past the GO as we go, so as not to enlighten him of our existence whilst he’s dreaming of catching a squirrel, a fox or anything four-legged that keeps on outrunning him. I’m aiming for a wabi-sabi kind of vibe in the bathroom. Mr G quite liked that idea too until he realised that it didn’t mean we’d have a sushi fridge in there for a full on bath time experience. Mixing old with new and finding a place for loved items makes him feel better, he knows he’s for keeps!

One step ahead

Mr G taking a leaf (pardon the gardening pun) from Monty Don’s tome today and preparing the greenhouse for market day. The GO managed to keep him company and entertained (!) for the first couple of hours before it was decided that hindrance and not help was on the menu so the GO has been sulking and moulting round the kitchen waiting for a gap to appear so he can break free. At the moment I have every exit covered but you’d be surprised to know that our 35 kilos of muscle has the backbone of a dormouse and can fit through the tightest of spaces at speed and with no thought for the chaos in his wing mirrors. Everything’s a challenge and none of them too big nor too small.

Out of sight….

How come when we decide to participate in The RSPB Garden Watch weekend, we only spot a handful of the birds we usually do, who tipped them off we were counting? Must be the GO, maybe he’s making a name for himself in the ‘How to outwit the Humans’ club that he belongs to. Our garden bird watch was of the common variety and no lesser spotted anything at all, unless we count our very own Blondie. She had some spotted variety of something going on after a reaction to some very unkind toiletries. She was much better after a family size pack of Wotsits, their medicinal qualities are much underrated.

The Bearsted mum spotted the last of the January sun peeping through the clouds and seized the opportunity to scoop the popsicle and the dodger up and out at haste to Mote Park to use up every bit of energy they might have been saving for later. They ran, they chased, they laughed and they eventually arrived home where the Dodger crashed out on the bottom stair and woke up some time later wondering where he was and how he got there, all the makings of a Superhero, morphed from one place to the next in the blink of an eye (or a VW Golf).

The original Bexley Homies arranged a Zoom baby shower for our mum to be where she was truly showered with well-deserved love, affection and gifts galore from her girl gang, themselves already adding to the population with mini-Kent (they’ve spread their wings across the county) Homies of their own. Everyone patiently waiting for the new kid on the block to arrive and wondering whether the Wise One will get to share his passion for trainers with a like-minded soul or maybe that should be sole. Or whether the MtB will be sharing a love of pampering and cosiness. I’m going with a footwear obsessed cosy toed little person who will keep them both busy with all things!

Look what I saw when I looked up today…..

Sunday roast on the menu today; should probably go and check that piece of beef is where I left it…..

Ventured out out earlier this week. Proper shoes, touch of mascara. Blondie did double fur, similar to double denim; only if you’re brave enough. She is, so did. Wasn’t just any out out, it was an M&S out out. Me for birthday yum-nuts (Blondie been harbouring a craving since Mid October), and my blonde companion came along for what I thought was a browse, turned out she was also coming for Yum-nuts. She was most put out to find she wasn’t going to be having at least two before the sun went down but instead would be forced to wait until the big day itself…

Interesting take on essential shopping.  Ensuring no one goes upstairs for non-essentials  by turning escalators off and blocking stairwells and then just brought everything they hoped to sell downstairs instead. Admittedly, we did look around but only because we thought it was ‘essential’ that we did. After realising fairly quickly that we didn’t need ‘Say goodbye to 2020’ Christmas/ New Year cards (who exactly do they think is going to buy them?). We met up again at checkout, me with an armful of newly named donuts, two packs of bacon and a Dine-In for a tenner, Blondie with essential bath oil (she wasn’t exhibiting a primary need, that’s what it said on the bottle), and other soak-themed paraphernalia, as well as a packet of triple chocolate hot cross buns, that she was trying to pass off as a snack when I already knew they would essentially (there it is again) become dinner.  Half a bottle of hand sanitiser and two fresh face masks later and we’re back to base….Mission complete.

What d’ya say when you’re 26?…..

Happy Birthday lovely one! Bacon sandwiches on white farmhouse as promised; Mr G thought it was his birthday too. Some distanced garden visits at varying times from the well-wrapped up, welly-wearing little people, more than happy to share yum-nuts with their older sis. Ok, she’s their auntie but for some reason they don’t expect the same level of responsibility and sensibility from our Blondie, wonder why that is? Hand-made cards lovingly crafted and written carefully and colourfully were presented. Pressies were opened and lots of much missed children’s laughter filling the air at the homestead. Caamp played away in the background, the GO bounced around filling the atmosphere with golden hair and the lovely one shared out the goodies, but in all the excitement couldn’t actually face one of those calorific, sugar laden yummies she’d been craving for the last 3 months….

Visits over and the bath oil and candles came out, what a treat for the birthday girl; a 4pm bath and newly gifted  pj’s, freshly washed and warmed dressing gown…what’s not to love about being 26? Bathtime also consisted of a bag of bacon rashers, chocolates and a can of Diet Coke, obviously, she wouldn’t have gone for the full fat variety…far too many calories. The aroma that filled the homestead was befitting of the spa-like experience,  everyone a winner.

All the small things…

Over at Bramley Cottage, the smallest princess has a new wake-up time; 2am… She loves her bed, she knows what to do in it but once she’s had enough, that’s it… “MUM”…  

Curly Sue treated Mrs Coles to a Zoom incognito. Dressed for ‘work’ in black trousers, white shirt, black tie and…sunglasses. Mrs Coles thought a new pupil had arrived. Curly Sue was most indignant…”its not a disguise, I’m in character” she explained rolling her eyes.

Grande sprog, takes it all far more seriously, when there’s work to be done, she’s your girl. Ever so quietly, getting on and doing what is asked, when she’s asked is her character. She doesn’t need to don a work garb. Excitedly waiting for the results of the latest Tracey Beaker competition she’s entered; 3 things you love about TB said the competition organiser… “ I just love EVERYTHING about Tracey Beaker “ said Grande sprog “especially her attitude”… uh-oh…worrying! (I remember reading the TB stories to the brood back in the day, and that was definitely a girl with attitude).

The Dodger (“Nuthin”), has loved his Pre-school sessions and being mothered by big sis, who got bored of doing that eventually and went to play with her homies. More words, more mischief…watch this space for more action. He’s like a little rocket, waiting to take off, just as soon as he can shake off all the growdy uppies that keep following him. The popsicle likes a bit of ‘down’ time too and has become a Master of hide and seek. Kids ruling the world is what they’re aiming for I believe. “Why won’t all the fun sponges just leave us alone”, they all cry.

More spinach on the menu over at No.15. Bubba doing what it’s supposed to be doing and growing in all the right places at all the right times. Excitement brewing and birth plan emerging… All missing the family conflabs and shower that takes place when a new sproglet emerging; such a lot of catching up to do.

Up, up and away….

Snowdrops; what a gorgeous addition to the homestead these little batches of newly flowering treasures are. After a morning of rain and sludge, the sun came out and drenched the woodland and beyond with a raft of seasonal blue sky and light splashes; truly stunning. We watched blue tits and long-tailed tits; robins, chaffinches, blackbirds and magpies as well as squirrels compete for the wintry feasts from the bird feeders and the long grass and flower beds. With a buzzard flying expansively and spectacularly above reminding them all who’s boss, we are mindful and thankful of where we are and what we have; truly thankful.

Happy Friday everyone, let’s all be thankful for what we have, we are very lucky.

Waking up to blue skies and bright mornings followed by afternoon sunshine is a treat we weren’t expecting this week. Mr G has dusted off the trailer, and compost is getting shovelled mostly by the man himself but also accompanied by the Golden One who is shovelling it straight into his jaws. He’s partial to a pile of compost with rotting leaves, as he is to a heap of horse do dah, (the Golden One, not Mr G, he prefers a Hazy Jane or a Whitstable). The remnants of a once loved terracotta pot make a great dessert. There’ll be a veritable amount of gas expelled into the atmosphere later today, (again, the GO not the DG… hopefully). If only he’d do what we ask, when we ask and we’re really not asking much. Temporarily, we have a new postie, he’s not a huge dog fan, or maybe just dislikes slobber. He wants to do his job and leave quickly. Poor chap looked traumatised by the experience. And that’s exactly what it is, an experience. Anyone who gets as far as this side of the gate gets ‘the treatment’; jump jump lick, jump jump lick lick, jump lick jump lick, stay up on back legs and waltz around with visitor until one of the fun sponges sharing the homestead manages to extract him from them. It’s not always, in fact rarely ever, a successful operation and ‘paw-print free’ clothes are just a distant memory; for us and visitors. I remember those days fondly. Blondie can’t understand it “Who doesn’t love dog slobber and hairy clothes and the rotten stale breath of a hound?” EVERYONE, except her! Just had a thought, we haven’t had any actual post for days….

The raised beds have been raised even higher; hopefully to deter the wildlife from extracting anything and everything in any shade of green, they’re not fussy. If we’re lucky, we’ll have garlic, onions, leeks, asparagus to name but a few. And if they’re lucky, they will! They’re not supposed to like garlic and onions so they must eat it to wind us up…it works. We did a costing last year on our success rate; buying seeds, compost, containers, and apart from tomatoes which they couldn’t get to, and the unquantifiable cost of blood, sweat, toil and tears we fed the local wildlife with the finest fayre at £2billion x the cost of commercial animal food. It’s no wonder they keep coming back. Apparently, it takes 3 years to harvest the first crop of Asparagus. Everything crossed there’s a happy ending to that story.

Bathroom fixer still fixing but nearing completion. If only he was a mind reader and he’d managed to extract the information we had in our heads but hadn’t communicated to his. That would have prevented the backwards steps involved in moving sink and rearranging the plan that was coming together nicely. Communication really is the key…wise words indeed. The GO is happy though, he gets to do his jumpy uppy thing for a few more days yet and unlike the postie, the bathroom fixer loves him, kind of, in smallish doses when he’s not trying to use a power tool on super speed outside and none of us are even aware so haven’t even tried to save him or his tool ; was almost another “Ouch”!

Over at No. 15, it’s 36 weeks and counting… and those Bexley Troubadours have done it again. Coming out in force to do a makeover on the bedroom of the Wise One and the Mum to Be. What a feat in a day, they’re amazing. Mum to Be is going to be in her element in that cosy snug; cosy being the favourite word and verb for our MtB. There’ll be a fur blanket on that bed by now and some coordinating shlompy pj’s doubling up as a working from home wardrobe I’m sure.

The Cheeky Girls have been baking again, this time bread and it was edible they all confirmed. In fact Curly Sue declared she was never going to eat shop bought bread again. Must have been good!

The eldest Grand sprog is a true conscientious scholar and gets her school work over and done before most kids have made their beds. Not so, Curly Sue. She likes to save hers for later, much later. She’ll be the teenager who does her homework on the bus on the way to school, the day after it was due in.

The smallest princess is going it alone. Into her very own coach and horses for the first time. Hope she leaves room for mum or dad, or both…I think they’re hoping the influence of Peppa Pig will be enough to guarantee success, I’m not so sure. I think it might be a lively night over at Bramley Cottage. Good luck guys and gals.

Saying goodbye to an elderly relative is always painful but the coming together of family to do it together is the blessing that everyone needs and memories shared can always raise a smile, even when followed by a tear or two. They said goodbye in their way and took their memories, some of them fairly colourful, back home with them… Another new beginning.

The snow that was promised came and went fairly abruptly. The flakes were huge and beautiful but also wet so no time for creative building of any form – this time anyway. Even the GO looked disappointed. He thought he was about to embark on a totally new diet regime.

The Popsicle and the Dodger (“Nuthin” ) are off to preschool together tomorrow . Watch out everyone, there’s a hurricane coming. If mum could turn herself into a fly, she’d be there too, recording the memories for posterity. But hey, I’m sure she’ll think of something to while away that 3 hours she’ll get without hearing “Mum”, “Mum”, “Mum”, MUM”, “MUM”… I’m thinking tea and TV. TV without Disney, or noise, or mess, or snack requests. Holly and Phil, tea and toast, It’s what most mums need. Then a second cup of tea but this time with cake….obviously followed by guilt.

This time last year I was excited about getting the Dishoom book out for our resident Blonde’s birthday feast coming up in a week or so…(I know it’s early but these things take planning).  It’s been out a zillion times since then and every time has led to some amazing aromas wafting through Harrietsham.  But today,  feeling melancholy for that great weekend we all had culminating in the family  version of ‘Ain’t no Mountain High Enough…’ to the delight of the Princesses and the Dodger who loved seeing the adults letting go. To be fair those little mites would definitely have preferred ‘Let it Go’ but we’re trying desperately hard to remove that earworm from all the playlists and hope they don’t notice.

Always something to celebrate….

Celebrating this year will be different but a celebration of any kind is what you make of it and we will; Gerry C, Caamp, Teskeys, Lake Street Dive, interspersed with some old school Jamie T and Streets I’m sure… Blondie is edging her way towards me forgetting how old she is and I should probably take on board that I no longer need to remind her when it’s cold outside and she should take a coat (to be fair, I think it’s not so long ago I did that very thing and refrained from uttering those words that everyone doesn’t want to hear; “ I told you you’d be cold”, when she came back from a walk in the great outdoors wearing Chelsea Football Club’s favourite shade and shivering. She thawed out eventually and was next seen wearing double fur, and that was in the front room watching tv with the heating on and a fire lit!

Curly Sue can’t wait to get Blondie’s birthday out of the way so she can officially start counting down to hers without interruptions. I believe there’s already a list accumulating over at Bramley Cottage.

I know everyone is missing at least something from life before the V word, regardless of where they are or what they’ve got. It’s ok, we’re allowed, we’re just not supposed to voice it for fear of seeming ungrateful. This time last year Brexit became the B word and if we weren’t talking about it, others were scratching their heads and wondering why. Now Brexit has become an administration challenge and sits a fair way down the news columns; unless you’re a lorry driver, that’s a whole different story. I have realised that everything has become loads more expensive and not sure if that’s Brexit or the New Year and the fact we’ve been living off Christmas supplies for a month so not had to buy much food and that’s without touching the cocktail sausages, streaky bacon, Baileys profiteroles (how have we not eaten those yet?!), numerous puddings and salty snacks to name but a few!.

“Sowwy, luv u…….”

We couldn’t help but notice that our little Dodger;  “Nuthin”, has only two  settings; on and off. This means he cannot walk, he can only run… everywhere. The mission is to lose the large annoying restrictions (elders, whatever size they are))  in his wing mirrors ( he must have wing mirrors because he never looks back, just keeps going onwards and sometimes if the landscape allows, upwards).  You may find I sometimes reference him as ‘Demolition Man’, he’s pretty good at that too but the elders in his life have got that covered and are on to him before he even knows himself that he’s about to cause destruction. On the odd occasion when he can’t be caught in time and the job is done, he is required to apologise “Say sorry” (stage note; cute smiley face),  “Say sorry”…. (2^nd stage note; smiley face), “SAY SORRY”… (3^rd stage note;  smile to melt an Angel’s heart “) “Sowwy” (final stage note; not sorry but huge cute smile and happy he got that palava out of the way so he can move on.) it’s tough trying to please all of the people all of the time but seems he’s cracked it at 2 and a bit years old.

Almost there….

Over at No.15, the bag is packed….this is a pivotal moment for mum and dad to be because it signifies that they are ready to go. This is regardless of whatever else is going on because all that will be dropped and parked in an instant. Seeing the bag which is obviously in a place where no one will forget it (everything crossed tightly and painfully), though they might trip over it, is the alarm that doesn’t make a sound. It’s just there in the background, waiting… There’ll be a few more Friends episodes to watch before then and a decent amount of lavish soapy baths with candles and bubbles galore… “What a girl wants, what a girl needs……”

“Noah, Noah”…..

The homestead still has an intermittent shower in the front room, thankfully those recyclable containers from the food parcels are working a treat and saving the carpet, just not the ceiling. We’ve heard there’s a whole load more to come, maybe this is the time to build an ark? The Golden One would love that…