Whoops a Daisy Angel

I have been to the village school’s Key Stage 1 Nativity play this week, despite the fact that it is a couple of children from Key Stage 2 with whom I work and the warning from one that “They’ll forget all their words and be rubbish. I don’t know why you’d bother when you don’t teach them.”

I love a Nativity play. For me, half the charm is the bits that go wrong! It was delightful, lots of youthful singing (always slightly tuneless don’t you think?) with a bit of acting and humour thrown in for good measure - and completely priceless of course!

I’ve performed in a few Nativity plays myself. One of my earliest memories is of walking down the school hall between rows of chairs wearing a sheet tunic and a dyed blue sheet headdress put on with elastic as though it were a hairband. Unfortunately I also remember being mortified because I had to hold hands with a boy who was so nervous at an early rehearsal that he’d wet himself and of course the rest of the class weren’t going to let either of us forget it! Better, was singing ‘We three kings’ with two others, each singing ‘our’ verse alone; I brought myrrh. And best, was playing the angel Gabriel in my last year at Primary, though I recall that learning the bible version of the words was tricky because they weren’t the same as the carol’s!

That was a very long time ago. More recent memories are of Youngest as a very proud Mary in a tableau as a Reception child at the end of a review by the rest of the Infant School - she didn't actually drop Jesus, he was saved by her grabbing a leg! Though she’s since been in a number of Christmas productions, she’s never been in a traditional Nativity, and neither has Eldest since she played a star (narrator) at her first Christmas in school.

Last night Youngest performed in Down the Rabbit Hole with her sixth form friends at school. She had devised the play from Alice in Wonderland; performed three minor roles; organised props and costumes; directed the production and was also selling the tickets. (It was a triumph though I say it as shouldn’t.)Then she went to an after show party and sleepover. She is exhausted!

It is her birthday on Monday so, as usual, we are hosting grandparents and godparents to a slap up lunch tomorrow: an opportunity to remember her day before Christmas sets in.

(While Blogger is at last letting me post it has decided to stop uploading photos. Hmph.)

Holiday

Things I have thought I should write about while I was away:

The second workshop

The logistics of dealing with ‘independent’ children

How glad I am I’m not a princess – giving birth is hard enough without the world watching

Where to visit on a trip to the Chinon area

How to walk a dog in Hampstead

Supporting your children’s productions

Birthday celebrations

The Ashes

I may come back to some of them, but I can knock off a couple now. The second workshop was much like the first, with three people coming again and two new customers. All seven said they would come again but none want to commit to weekly classes. Need to think about that!

Eldest came home just in time for our trip to France, even managing to wash some clothes needed for the holiday and/or the Edinburgh Fringe. We travelled via the Channel Tunnel staying in Le Mans en route to a little village near Chinon (above). We stayed on a property with three self catering cottages and a shared pool. We would recommend: 



a potter around Tours

Bastille night in Chinon




the gardens of Villandry

Wherever you of course, it is vital that you take Test Match Special with you at all times – we wouldn’t let Husband listen to any of the CDs we’d brought along for our holiday as we needed to know the score…

Clanger

Mother and I have discussed the possibility that nowadays she would have been visited by worried social workers: Babybrother ate little but Edam cheese, and drank nothing but Ribena. He was little (my other 'little' brother overtook me in size and weight when he was 18 months and I was three and a half) and has stayed so - 5ft 7 with size 7 feet.
We celebrated his 50th birthday at a brasserie at Bluewater having queued along the M25 and driven around the whole site looking for a parking spot on the first day of The Sales. Luckily lunch was very good and he paid!
Seventeen of us then removed to my parents' home to drink tea. I had provided Ribena and Creme de Casis (to go in the champagne) and an 'Edam' cake. What I can't believe is that I didn't photograph the Clanger that Mother had knitted for her little boy and for which I had made armour and sewed features.
It was a nostalgic day!

Where was I?

Where did the last ten days go?

Youngest’s birthday party and her annual god/grandparents’ birthday lunch.

The One Show featured Malmesbury but made a ridiculous meal of it and the school carol service was excellent despite a delayed start so the choir could sing for 2 seconds on the aforementioned show.

A Strictly Final supper party back to back with an evening drinks party - both thrown by friends in the village - were a treat.

Family lunch for thirteen with presents and tea, back to back with a drinks party with neighbours, was hectic but fun (yule log and gingerbread house courtesy of Eldest).

Christmas Eve brought final preparations while hosting in-laws, then the day itself:  a packed church, champagne with more neighbours, lunch cooked by Husband (except bread sauce, cranberry sauce, Christmas pudding and brandy butter which I made in advance) and  Dr. Who  (in-laws took time out as they hadn't liked it last time they were here for Christmas) and lastly an evening of girly TV (Strictly, Call the Midwife and Downton in case you were in doubt).

Today there is a lull before we drive to London to see my parents and join another family lunch party, this time to celebrate Babybrother’s fiftieth birthday, and a trip to The Hobbit.

After all that I plan a very quiet new year.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and thank-you for reading!

She will go to the ball!

There are eight teenagers, including Youngest, eating pizza and making a noise as I type. When invited, there was apparently a chorus of "Is there going to be a Barbie cake this year?" But of course! Luckily Eldest volunteered to ice it this year so I could enjoy cleaning....

Planning

It has been a week of collecting Youngest from school.
A GCSE in Drama requires ‘putting on a play’ – several actually. These are sometimes scripted, sometimes devised, but always planned, dressed and performed by varying groups of students in the Drama class. In turn this means ‘homework’ needs to be done by the group, usually after school, hence Mummy’s taxi has been busy in the lead up to yet another play.
The added complication this week is the three nightly performances of the school’s Christmas Concert. Youngest is in the choir as usual, but this year also performing with the Chamber Choir (Let it Snow and The Twelve Days of Christmas) and a year 11 ensemble of about 6 – Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s The Power of Love. All great fun and of course I’m delighted she’s taking part again, but it’s 6.30 until 10pm. The gap between drama rehearsals and the concert has been challenging in terms of supper and changing, and she’s getting more tired as the week goes on.
The weekend may provide some respite but she plans to make biscuits to freeze for decorating next weekend to give to her friends as Christmas gifts… Meanwhile some major tidying needs to occur if a party for ten, to celebrate her sixteenth birthday, is to happen next Friday – not to mention the visit of her grandparents and godparents on Sunday, the day itself.
We’ll get there, we always do, but poor planning on her parents’ part always adds to the challenge of this time of year!

(The photo shows the unflooded view from the bridge.)

Wash day blues

I have failed in my motherly duties!

Eldest bakes like a professional most of the time although she rarely cooks savoury food; but she can follow a recipe: she’ll be fine. And it’s catered accommodation anyway. She’ll not starve.
Last week we purchased a collapsing laundry bin. She is going to accumulate her own washing from now and have a go at sorting and laundering for herself. Apparently this will be “more fun” than doing the families laundry… I feel guilty that she doesn’t know the first thing about sorting, choosing the right programme, pegging out on the line or programming the tumble dryer; but more so that she thinks this might be fun.
I am a passionate sorter and a user of all the varied programmes on my washing machine. I get an immense satisfaction from smoothing and folding clean clothes. (Regular readers may remember that I do not iron.) But: fun?
We’ll see.

The photo is of Eldest's 18th birthday cake, by special request because "It's not fair, I never had a pink castle."

A Tale of Two Cakes

Last weekend Youngest was spoilt lovingly by her grand and godparents. Today she’s being indulged by us and, once she’s been to school and taken a Physics test (“How unfair is that?”) , we will have a giggle of teenage girls to pizza and a movie at our house. She is 15 today.


Sunday’s cake was a large version of Delia’s Lemon Curd cake: melting, lemony and tasteful.

Tonight’s is Barbie dressed in a coffee flavoured confection and dripping in Smarties. I haven’t made a Barbie cake since they were small, and never before for Youngest – a fact which she clearly felt I should put right! She’s not seen it yet. Barbie is hiding in the (cold) spare room. I think she will go down well - despite Eldest helpfully remarking that "She looks like a pineapple".

Burning the candles at both ends

Husband was away this weekend. He went to Dorset with two of his brothers to do maintenance tasks.
Since we didn’t need to watch the rugby, we girls spent Saturday afternoon and early evening in front of the TV. We watched An American in Paris and the dancing was sublime. Rather less so in Strictly: we cringed and cheered. And we relished Dr. Who’s ‘season finale’; we’ve got to wait until Christmas for more! According to Youngest watching TV together counts as quality time and she didn’t think I should do the gardening instead.
Eldest went to an 18th birthday party that night (she took this cake*, which she made, to school to give to her friend on Friday), and Youngest went to The Big Gig, a Guide event, at Wembley Arena early Sunday morning. Despite the need to wake early (for a Sunday) I said I’d collect Eldest, and she didn’t demur so I think she was pleased not offended.
Did you see how I breezed over Eldest’s evening entertainment? Aren’t I the cool calm mother taking her Eldest’s trip to a party in a friend’s car so lightly even if I did chicken out of letting her come home the same way?

I went to boarding school. When I was at home I rarely went to anything that didn’t involve the whole family. At school I am afraid I was just as unlikely to be invited anywhere. But my first teenage party happened when I was 16. (As far as I know it was the only occasion on which I was offered drugs, but I was so dim I thought they were cigarettes and I was far too good to smoke!) I moved from my all girls’ school to do sixth form at a co-ed, and there we had regular school discos. So, at Eldest’s age I may not have been cool, but I had managed a bit of partying and a boyfriend or two (OK, one boyfriend). Not so my big girl. Since she stopped being of an age to have a children’s party, she has refused to hold her own parties and she has ceased to be invited anywhere.
I’m sure you will understand that this is a mixed blessing. As a general rule I do not need to worry about what she and her friends might be getting up to, nor have to plan and host suitable parties that won’t let her down. On the other hand: what’s wrong with her?! She’s pretty enough, dresses well, has a wonderfully cynical sense of humour… aah! And is clever! Does she put the boys off asking? Or maybe she really is just not bothered? She once said it was more interesting sorting out other people’s love lives than getting involved herself. I do hope she really believes that – this unkissed 16 year old was mortified!


“I’ve been to a proper big girl’s party, Mummy!” she said in very pleased tones.




*I don't know why the photo won't be the right way up and I've got bored with trying to sort it out - sorry!

Show time

It is holiday time and we’re off to Dorset in stages (Eldest goes with friends tomorrow, Youngest returns to the UK on Friday and we go Sunday), but before that I wanted to show you Eldest’s cake for her father’s birthday:

3, not 53, clearly

And my entries for the village show:

A dressed doll or bear: (the poor girl is over 40 but seemed pleased with her new outfit) dressed for a British summer!
Possibly a little over the top?



A crocheted item: a little devil who's a little underwhelming?



And two entries for the liqueur class: Sloe Gin and Apple Vodka…

Happy holidays!

Let them eat cake

Eldest was seventeen last Wednesday. It seems unbelievable: time has whizzed by. She is (of course) talented, intelligent, witty and attractive and takes after her mother… actually she has her father’s memory for detail and tuneless singing voice, and her grandmother’s sense of rhythm and dancing feet. And she’s taller than me. And her life is ruined because she's never had a fairy castle birthday cake... Well  I shall know what to make for her 18th: that'll teach her to mock her mother.

She has been working all week helping her ballet teacher run a summer school at the end of which they put on a show. She’s loved the experience and even been amused by the little kids – “They’re so cute!”
So we've had a stream of grandparents and godparents to entertain. It’s been fun, but as of today they have all departed and our next task is to get Youngest onto a bus bound for Heathrow and on to Switzerland. She has been earning money for the trip all year, and received a couple of welcome grants from the Guide ‘pot’, but I am just beginning to loose my patience with requests for yet more kit that someone somewhere has told her is essential: apart from anything else it is not all going to fit in her rucksack! So I need to go and look at a weather forecast for Adelboden to try and calm her requests for shorts, factor 50 and sunglasses, and waterproof trousers and jacket, and layers for snow… Twelve of them, including 3 Young Leaders, are camping and self-catering at the Guide centre for 8 days. I’m sure they will have the time of their lives, and the enormity of the adventure will dawn on me eventually, but for the moment I’m just harrassed!

Youngest's December

The trouble with the computer not working properly is that I’ve got out of the habit of visiting. Perhaps Husband will sort it over his holiday?

I still have 35 cards to write (and must therefore make 10 more), and most of my relations have a present: the ones that haven’t are the brothers and father of Husband, so I’m laying the lack firmly at his door to sort out. Most of the presents are even wrapped!
This organisation is due to the fact that the family all break up from school on Friday so ‘my’ time is running out, and tomorrow is Youngest’s 14th birthday and always provides other complications – though this year we have agreed not to have a party.
Of course this doesn’t mean we’re not celebrating! On Sunday we had the Grandparents and Godparents to lunch and a birthday tea – roast chicken for 14, and a gluten-free cake. Tomorrow there will be various other presents that have arrived in the post, plus ours, and a light fruit cake (must sort that!). We have had to promise to get her friends together in the spring: she couldn’t possibly do something now.
Youngest is an enthusiastic participator in life. Last weekend we had one lot of Godparents staying on Saturday night, and one set of Grandparents on Sunday so we weren’t free to do a party, and Strictly is unmissable! Not to mention the job: Youngest gets up in time to be at her Saturday job by 8am where she spends a happy couple of hours variously mucking out, milking, grooming and feeding goats, a horse, sheep, chickens and (I think)pigs. She comes back cold and filthy but happy and richer! (She is saving for a Guide trip to Switzerland in the summer.) On Monday she helped fundraise for her house charity at a Parents’ Evening at school. Last night there was a house trip to Bristol to see a pantomime. Tonight she is singing at the school Carol Service. Friday there is a Guide night hike and sleepover, so the goats will have to wait ‘til Sunday… We have visitors from abroad staying on Saturday night, and the Strictly final. There’s no time for a party!

In case I don’t get back here: Happy Christmas!

Catching up

The birthdays were both deemed successful; the camping, fun.

Eurostar and the TGV to Lyon were brilliant. We had a busy trip, eating too well and all managing to speak a little French: it’s amazing what you can manage if everyone has to order their own food or go without.

Eldest got nine A* and an A.
My trainee teacher has started work.
My girls have gone back to school.


I AM ALONE IN THE HOUSE.


I may take the day off; eat chocolate with a good book; think in the sewing room; play in the garden… or perhaps just take delivery from Sainsbury, do the washing, tidy the sitting-room and catch up on what’s been going on on the blogosphere, all while listening to Radio 4 with no chance of anyone turning it off.

A friend indeed

It has been my birthday this week. I feel no older, except when I look in the mirror or remember just how long ago x or y happened. And I often miscalculate those dates! It’s age you know. It comes to me when I realise just how long I’ve known the people in my life.

FriendAbroad has just e-mailed me a daft message about how none of the wishes, angels or whatever she has received has worked, and please could we send chocolate, wine or air tickets instead. Over the years we have seen one another spasmodically. We were next door neighbours when we were 9, and wrote termly to one another at our respective girls’ boarding schools until we pitched up at the same sixth form. Our friendship flourished at school despite her being more confident and successful in our co-ed surroundings. She taught me to put on eye-make-up, shared novels and companionship, enthused about our sewing skills and laughed with me. When she needed somewhere to live in London she came and shared my one-bedroom flat. Later, when she moved to the USA to accompany her widowed father, I went to stay for a long summer earning my keep by helping her with the household chores. Later still we lived in one another’s pockets as she prepared for her wedding and I made her dress and my bridesmaid’s dress. I’m her eldest son’s godmother.
Husband-to-be and I visited her family in the Netherlands for a ball and she memorably sewed me back into my dress when the clearly too cheap zip split open! She was, of course, one of my bridesmaids.
Her life has changed direction several times since then, and we have both moved about rather a lot, never close enough for detailed contact, but we keep in touch, and we visit when possible. She usually drops in when she’s in the UK, and we exchange e-mails randomly. Our lives have been different, but the things we have in common remain key, and we never have difficulty in finding things to talk about when we get together.
With a friendship that has lasted so long, it is impossible to imagine FriendAbroad ceasing to be part of my life. I can’t see a reason why two little old ladies couldn’t still be exchanging views on the novels we’re reading, our sewing and our children. Not to mention the Husbands and (future I trust!) grandchildren. Aren’t I lucky.
(The cushions were Youngest's Christmas present.)