It’s turned a bit nippy of late and in addition to big, roaring fires, woolly socks (hand-knitted, naturally) and fleecy jumpers, what a body needs is calories to keep it warm. Forget starting a diet, (that’s a New Year’s resolution for the breaking), what you want is comfort food with lots of carbs. The obvious candidate for the basis of a warming carb-fest is the humble potato, but if your immediate thoughts turn to chips or mash, then think again.
See that there picture? Do ya? Do ya? –>
The one that says “Winner” in large letters for the NaNoWriMo challenge ? –>
Well…er…..that’s not me.
That there Winner’s certificate belongs to none other that my darling daughter, who embraced the challenge and completed just after 9pm last night 😀
Am I proud? You bet! <puffs up like a puffed-up proud thing> 😀
I confess: I’m a Bookaholic, a bookworm, if you prefer. I love to read and always have, spending most of my schooldays with my nose in a book.
Admittedly, these days, I tend to read in fits and starts, depending on how much time I can squeeze away from doing mundane things like eating and sleeping. Fortunately, it is possible to read whilst eating and a little light reading before going to sleep is usually a good way to wind down. I say usually, because it is not unknown for me to read all night, or at least until the chorus of over-enthusiastic avian abuse hurling that heralds the dawn reminds me that I probably won’t be much use to man or beast unless I get at least a short power nap. (more…)
I’d never really fully appreciated why the Sun is associated with masculine qualities, but it was arrestingly brought home to me yesterday by my own 11-year-old Darling Sun (sic). We had previously been discussing what extra curriular activities he should sign up for (me being pushy and he reticent and totally resistant to the idea of actually taking an interest in something that I would have cut an arm off to have had the opportunity to do at school). The conversation meandered onto other topics:
DS: I just found out today that X* has a girlfriend,she’s called Y.
*(X now goes to a different school)
Me: Oh. Really?
DS (nodding sagely): Yes. It happens around this age apparently.
Me: Oh. Does that mean you have a girlfriend now?
DS (smirking slightly): Yes. Her name’s Z.
Me (wondering if this is the reason for reluctance re:clubs): Ah. So what’s Z into then?
DS (shrugging) : Dunno
Me: You must have got to know her a bit if she’s your girlfriend. What is she interested in?
DS: She’s interested in ME.
And that says it all really. The Sun is associated with masculinity because the world revolves around it, all else is eclipsed by its radiance, it is invincible, peerless and it shines out of its own proverbial. Yup, the Sun is definitely masculine.
I went to see my Mum yesterday. She turned 91 last week and is in good health for her age, though she eats far too little. The only real thing wrong with her is her memory, which has increasingly deteriorated over the last few years and is now so bad she can’t remember how to make a cup of tea.
Until fairly recently, she did a passable imitation of being fine. I remember the time that I visited and it became apparent that she had not a clue who I was. I’d never have guessed, but in Polish, as in French, one doesn’t say “you” in the same way when speaking formally. When your mother effectively addresses you formally, it’s a fairly safe bet that she doesn’t recognise you as family, let alone her daughter. It was a huge shock and very upsetting (for both of us). I didn’t have the children with me then (fortunately) – although she seems to still recognise them most of the time and even remembers their names.
1906 Black floral corset
I had a fascinating day last Saturday visiting the Symington Collection to fondle original Victorian and Edwardian corsets.
What can I say? I felt like a child in a sweet shop, surrounded by delights; drooling and desperate to sample all of it in the all too short allotted time. Suffice it to say that I took over 300 pictures of the 30 or so corsets that were laid out for us to examine and pore (paw) over and the rather good public Fashion Gallery, which put the V&A to shame.
(Do click on the pictures to get an enlarged view)
So, there I was, pootling along the M4, with a car full of family and a trailer full of Medieval tent and all the other paraphenalia required for a weekend’s trading at Firejoust, when there is a sudden clunk and shudder. I glance in the wing mirror to see my trailer wheel bouncing across three lanes of motorway into the fast lane.
As you may know, I spend quite a few weekends throughout the year, particularly in Summer, trading at Medieval Fayres and other events. I returned from one such event on Sunday evening and thought I’d share a little of this weird and wonderful habitat with you.
Today’s challenge: What is the collective term for a group of Tarotists?
The unenlightened might suggest a “prediction of Tarotists” or perhaps “a jingle of fortune-tellers”. The obvious one would probably be a “pack”, but after spending this weekend at the TABI conference, in the company of like-minded people, I rather think that “a counsel of Tarotists” might be more apposite.
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