Mellow Sweetness

I have really been enjoying mellow days with my boys over the Christmas and New Year holidays.
Some days have been filled with such gentle sweetness that I have felt a surge of joy at my luck to have these two men in my life.
After our Solstice celebration it was heads down and into Christmas.
We went to a lovely party hosted by a friend on Christmas Eve and I was able to catch up with my friend Tanya and her hubby Rob. He was sporting the biggest smile ever having finally landed a job after eighteen very long and tricky months and many, many interviews. I just didn't want to talk to anyone else having seen them go through such a hard time and just loved feeling the energy pulsing out of them that evening. They are good people and like many in this economic climate have been through a lot.
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Christmas Day saw us eating croissants as we opened our gifts and then heading off to celebrate Christmas with Sue (Andrew's ex-wife), Sarah and Tom (his children from this first marriage, they are 29 and 25 respectively).
Sue made a fantastic lunch of turkey, roast potatoes, sausages, veggies, bread sauce, cranberry sauce and gravy.
Frank was in his element!
At around 4pm we all tucked into the mince pies I made along with a cup of tea.

I used a pastry recipe from Sarah Raven's Complete Christmas book (which I love!! Highly recommended) and filled the pies with sugar free mincemeat made by my friend Fiona.
The little bird lids on the lids were a last minute decision as a full lid can be heavy and I love a bit of whimsy at any time.

Boxing Day saw us three in the woods getting some much needed fresh air and gathering some sticks for the fire.
And for New Year we drove down to Reading to stay with Severine and had such a lovely time, full of mellow sweetness again.
Severine knows us well and was happy to have a quiet, reflective evening with good food and some games and chat about our plans for the coming year.
We played a music quiz, drank champagne, ate smoked salmon and made a list of what we want to achieve in 2012.
Actually, Andrew let Sev and I drink the champagne as he toasted the new year with (hold onto your knickers) CHOCOLATE MILK!!!!

I have no idea what Sev actually thought but I could hazard a guess!

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And my plans for 2012?
They include posting here more often.
So on that note, I will be back soon with more on my plans for 2012.
Blessings to you all for a healthy, happy and joyful 2012 full of mellow sweetness.

The blanket I knitted to relieve D-stress!

May I introduce you to this lovely little number?
It is a small blanket, perfect for having over your knees on a cold winter's evening or at the open air theatre in summer.
Or even for carrying around with you, Linus style, when your D-kid is ill!
The pattern is Hap Blanket by Ysolde Teague and is my first real attempt at lace knitting - Ravelry notes here.
I knitted the whole blanket on our holiday in Holland (and even made a baby hat for Frieda too!) which gives you some indication of how relaxing a holiday it was and how much I needed to keep myself quietly occupied.
Basically the centre block is garter stitch and then you pick up around the edges and knit the lace.
This is my sister's Christmas present (along with a tea cosy, which I will show you once it's finished) and these colours are very much her thing. Heather doesn't read my blog so I think I am safe in showing it off here (if you are popping by Heather, um, Happy Christmas!).

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This knitting was just what I needed after the week before the holiday when Frank was ill.
I am aware that I am not writing about the D much at present.
Believe me it's always there and has been challenging recently.
I was completely wrung out before the trip to Holland as Frank had had a fever for three days and then diahorrea for four days and continued to be low on energy and not really eating when we packed the van and headed off to the ferry port.
I had been in two minds about whether to go or not but we had discussed it and felt that he was on the mend and they have hospitals and doctors and medicine in Holland after all!
So, we went and after a couple of days he perked up, started eating like mad and was fine.
Again, it comes back to the idea of getting out and just going for it and yet this is such uneven ground.
We were not taking a regular healthy child away, we were taking a child WITH DIABETES away and it was scary.
We are three years in to this bloody game (anniversary if diagnosis next Monday, in fact) and it does not get easier to make decisions like this one.
In all honesty though, I did make this decision knowing, absolutely knowing, that I would be able to make better calls regarding Frank's health than pretty much any other health professional and that I wasn't afraid to tell people what to do, should it come to it!
I am D-Mum, hear me roar!

Holland and a nod to Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee, Holland?
Let me count the ways:

I love that you gave Frank a really great hot chocolate experience after a long cycle one day.I love that you let Sarah and James rest and enjoy a mellow week with me and my boys.

I love that you have a mad, mad clock in the centre of Alkmaar that rings , elaborately, every quarter of an hour ( and was just across the square from our flat).
Some nights I found this so amusing, others really not so much!

I love your cycle paths that are bigger than Cornish roads and make cycling such an unadulterated pleasure.
I love your canals and the lovely homes right next to them.
Yes! Real people live in places like this.

I love the soft September sand in my toes and, indeed, everywhere after Frank decided we needed to "romp" on the beach and we both got covered in the stuff rolling around and wrestling for ages (whilst Andrew stood near by and pretended he didn't know the giggling maniacs on the sand in front of him!).

I love how happy you make my family with cycles to the beach through pretty villages and pine forests.

I love the flat you provided for us in Alkmaar, right on the canal and across the road from the cheese market and the beer museum; above a toy shop and next to a chip shop.
You were showing off in this instance, dear Holland.

I love that you gave us space to hang out, in harmony, all five of us.

I love, oh how I love, your bicycles.
So cool, so stylish and so practical.

And I love your cheese. Mature Gouda was the best. Gouda with cumin seeds was fab too. Goats' Gouda was , um, interesting.

This land is often unsung. Just not mentioned but I love its gentle way of life, its adherence to quality in life and not quantity.
The Netherlands are only a few hours from my home. Half an hour drive to the port, an overnight ferry and lo! The Promised Land.

I am already checking out return trips and ferry prices.
This was the best holiday we've had in ages (much better than that soggy week in Devon with all the dead crows and stuff).

And the cheese museum? Mmmmmmmmmmmmm ...

A Little Trip

Southwold Pier.
Walberswick car park and the beautiful wooden buildings, with Southwold on the horizon.
The white camper van is ours!
Throwing rocks into the sea. Loving wearing his new emergency bracelet, as it is "sea colours, Mummy".
Chocolate ice-cream and full concentration.
The sign outside the Sailors' Reading Room in Southwold (I love a good, and well-placed apostrophe!).
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Frank and I are just back from a night away in the van at a lovely campsite in Dunwich up on the Suffolk coast near Minsmere nature reserve.
We drove up on Monday morning, sorted out our pitch and then headed into Southwold for the day.
It was hot and thus busy and, as always, so beautiful.
Southwold is one of my favourite places and as I am a Suffolk girl I have a soft spot for any beautiful place in my county.
We spent time having lunch in a cafe and then strolled along the prom and then had great fun on the pier enjoying the amusements and the view.
After all that we played on the beach for a while but the sun was so very hot we had to beat a retreat and seek out some shade.
On the way back to the campsite we stopped off at Walberswick for ice cream and then spent the evening on the beach throwing stones into the sea and searching for stones with holes in them.
The extreme heat saw us finding it difficult to get to sleep but that was fine as we were together and happy in each other's company.
Each time I go away alone with Frank and the D I gain a little more confidence. As long as I have all the necessary kit and snacks and juice I feel OK and know I can deal with most eventualities.
Andrew returns today after eight days abroad.
I have done this and done it well these past eight days.
I am also ready for some sleep!

River Cottage Canteen

(Andrew's bitter at the River Cottage Canteen)

After leaving Devon last week we headed East.
En route to my sister's place in Dorset we stopped off at the River Cottage Canteen in Axminster.
We are big Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall fans in this house and so admire him for all he has done to raise awareness of local food issues and animal welfare.
At the canteen Frank was able to have an organic beefburger and chips (he never eats the bun). The salad leaves on the side were regarded with horror and removed by me.
He regards them rather like I would a dead rat on my plate!
(The boy wonder and his meal)
(The other boy wonder eats his faggots)

And Andrew chose Faggots.
I kid you not : pig's heart, liver, and fatty belly meat wrapped with caul (membrane from the pig's abdomen) No idea what it's called in the USA.
Am pretty sure it's not the same thing ... ahem.

I had the beef burger too. I am not at all fond of red meat but felt that here, in this cafe, of all places, it would have come from a happy cow.
I was veggie for22 years and still struggle a bit with the dead animal aspects of meat, even though I am in favour of it being eaten and farmed sustainably.
This day was a happy food day.
Other days are not so great.
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I love to cook and have had such a great time introducing my boy to a whole variety of foods and tastes.
He began with rice porridge and mango and banana.
He ate everything I gave him, except avocado.
My boy that eats absolutely almost anything has now become the same child that (I swear he said this) told me three nights ago, on being presented with his bedtime snack of dried apricots, almonds and slices of apple: "This apple isn't crunchy enough, Mummy".
My mouth dropped open and I felt bewildered, again.
I am struggling to get a variety of food into him.
He is eating things one day and refusing them the next, often for the most spurious reasons.
He will eat meat and potatoes.
White bread and peanut butter (although I an now sneaking almond butter into him by stealth as I hide it under the peanut butter! Mwahaha!).
Carrots and peas from the pod.
He would live on bacon or

salami given the chance.

Have any of you been through anything similar to this?
Is it a phase?
Do you have any recommendations?
What more can I do?

P.S. I honestly don't let Frank know I have these concerns. He knows I want hm to eat lots of different foods that help him grow strong, but that's the extent if it.

Scenes from Devon

We spent a windswept and cold week in beautiful Devon.
No trench foot but oh, so much wind. And, as we were camped on a west-facing hill, looking out to sea, from whence a MAD level of wind was howling, it was a challenging week.
My gorgeous tent is lovely and looks great but is not much use in such circumstances, there being no inner tent. The wind whipped the sides up as much as it could and others on the camp site lost tent pegs forever, returning to camp at the end of the day to find their tents in heaps and looking wildly around for sheep with Frankenstein's monster-type tent pegs through their necks.
After two nights we resorted to taking turns to sleep in the van with Frank and oh, the joy of just turning a light on to test BG during the night, rather than holding that torch in your mouth.
I took a few photos but spent also a lot of time with my hands in my pockets feeling grumpy. Andrew assures me I am rarely grumpy so I imagine ten years of teaching teenagers has made me proficient in hiding my true emotions!
A few piccies for you all so those of you across the pond can feel all worldly and knowledgeable about the UK ...
Setting up on day one.
We left at 8am and arrived around half four in the afternoon. Strolling up to the office to check in Frank flopped to the floor with his lowest hypo yet : 2.0.
Great. A week on a hillside and we begin by checking in and dealing with a major hypo simultaneously.
And look! Blue sky. Last we saw of that for a while.

On our way down the hill to Hope Cove.
That, my unworldly American friends, is a Devon ROAD. Yup. It's a road. Two way. All that green hides a wall made of flinty stuff (that's the technical term by the way, ahem) so if you misjudge it in your car, or say camper van, you lose bodywork. There are passing places but that then involves driving backwards uphill or downhill and not hitting the aforementioned flinty-stuff.
Keeps you on your toes, believe me.
I would so love to be a passenger in a car with an American driving down this road! Dan and Winnie, I volunteer you guys. Are you up for it? Detroit is easy, you need a challenge!

I loved this sign, all bent at the edge showing how someone hit it on the way past! And the wild flowers all the way down the lane were amazing.
The first few houses as you enter Hope Cove.
Hope Cove and a windswept boy. Both beautiful.


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And then there were days of wind and rain and more grumpy thoughts from me.
On what was to be the penultimate might of camping it was Andrew's turn in the van with the boy.
I tidied up the tent. Made a comfy bed. Got my knitting ready. Got my book out. Lit the gas lamp without losing any eyebrows and settled down for some space.
But, that bloody wind. It picked up and buffeted that poor tent to the point that I got smacked in the head by the canvas so many times that by half midnight I lit the lamp again and read. Until three thirty and I was too tired to read anymore. After that I slept fitfully, off and on, dreaming of wild panthers (The Beast of Bodmin Moor had come to Devon and was in my tent!).

I joined the boys in the van. They were sleeping well and still happily in dreamland. I made myself a cup of tea and sat drinking it, feeling mutinous and very sorry for myself. Then there appeared a little way off but clear enough for me to see a group of three crows. Two of whom proceeded to peck the other to death.
Great. Lovely sight.
I have read enough Shakespeare to take this as a very clear and portentous sign to get the hell out!
And so, we packed up and went to a B&B for the night and oh, the joy of no wind. Electricity! TV! A bed without bugs! The wonder of it all. I felt like The Man Who Fell To Earth (didn't pee myself though, you'll be glad to know!).

And I smiled to be packing up and loved my husband more than ever for being adaptable.
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Back very soon with a call for help with my used-to-eat-anything-boy now being a mono-diet-boy. I am floundering with feeding him.
Little monkey.

Off to breathe ...

Hello again, peeps!

I took your advice and took some time out from the electronic world.

My lovely husband also came home early from Scotland. It was a mixture of knowing I was struggling and being a bit fed up with the wind howling in his face and the rain making him wet and cold.

It is good to have him home.

Thank you all for coming to my aid with kind words and support (even you, Amy!).

It was very much needed and much appreciated too.

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We are off camping tomorrow.

This is our summer holiday; a week in our beautiful tent down on the Devon coast and then a couple of days on my sister's farm in Dorset on the way home.

This could be my week:

Fresh air, sunshine, Devon cream teas, days on the beach, Plymouth Sealife Centre, the Devon Moors and wild ponies, reading, clotted cream ice-cream, knitting, local markets and sleeeeeeep, precious sleeeeeep.

Then again, this is England, so it could be :

Rain, wind, hail and sleet, trench foot, soggy sandwiches, rain, caterpillars in my salad (this happened to me in the Cotswolds last time we camped!)and no sleep.

However, I am hopeful.

Our campsite is one mile from a beach called Hope Bay.

Want to join us?!

In preparation for the trip I ignored all my lovely husband's ideas of packing early and took to sewing instead.

Each of us now has a nifty bag for the trip.

Andrew's bag : be.

Frank's bag : Frank Budd Loves Sea Creatures (his exact words when asked if he'd like "create" or "Frank" or something short and snappy!).

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And my bag? Well, you've seen it before and I am only doing what you told me to.

Back in about ten days with oodles of photos and, no doubt, some real Devonian quality cellulite from all the clotted cream teas!

Love to all, and may your next ten days be fabulous and full of good times.

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P.S. Look! I didn't mention the D!!!!

Jen told me this time would come and it has.

I call friends and don't talk about it all the time.

I meet people in town and I don't mention it!

Life goes on ...

Camping it up

A picture heavy post giving you a glimpse into our long weekend away camping in the Cotswolds.The new bell tent stood up well to some major gusts of wind and we were a bit chilly at night, but this was northern Europe in April!

Frank loved sleeping in his grobag again; something he hasn't done since he was three.Breakfast was taken outside most days with us enjoying homemade granola, marmalade on toast, pains au chocolat and lashings of tea!

Frank took some photos of the camp too.

The tree next to the tent made great shadows inside and my boy was rosy-cheeked and wind-swept most of the time ( a haircut is booked for tomorrow so enjoy that long, lop-sided hair for now!).

Budd wore his cap and struck a great pose without even realising it here.

He is getting a beard trim this week too.

This trip also saw our first site failure.

Of course it would happen in a tent rather than in the comfort of our own home!

But it was sorted quickly and all was well.

Interestingly the trigger felt really different on the insertion thingy (the techinical term!) than with any of the others I have done and the canula came out all bent and covered in blood.

Frank was non-plussed by this and so we just put a new one in.

I am constantly amazed at how he takes all this in his stride.

However, we have had tears and deals needing to be struck just to get his hair cut booked tomorrow, so he chooses his battles!

Off to catch up on all your news now.

Toodle -oo!

Fish Biscuits!

No, it's not more Cockney Rhyming slang!

Nor have I just sneezed!

Or cursed!

It is the recipe for the savoury biscuits I promised you and, relax, they contain NO FISH.

Their true title is Rosemary & Olive Oil Crackers but as Frank is such an Octonauts fan we made them in the shape of fish so we could re-enact Tunip handing them to everyone on the Octopod (anyone without a four year old will think I've gone mad. I haven't).

Whatever floats his boat, eh?

They are very, very moreish and very, very easy to make.

The recipe is from a little book called "cookie magic" by Kate Shirazi that I use all the time and for anyone in the USA it has some great really traditional English biscuit recipes. The kind I grew up on, except the ones I ate back then were mass-produced and not home-made.

It's a reliably good book and fun to look through with Frank when we are looking for cookie inspiration.

:: Makes 1 batch.

115g/4oz/a generous 3/4 cup plain (all-purpose) flour, plus extra for dusting

pinch of salt

1 tsp fresh rosemary, finely chopped

2 tbsp olive oil

2 tbsp water

To finish : 2 tsp rock or crystal salt, 2 tbsp olive oil

Method : Pre-heat the oven to 200 C / 400 F / Gas Mark 6 and line two baking sheets. Mix the flour, salt and chopped rosemary together in a bowl. Whisk the olive oil and water together then tip into the flour and mix until you have a smooth dough.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface and cut out shapes. Place the shapes on your lined baking sheets and prick with a fork.

To finish, mix the crystal or rock salt with the olive oil and brush over each cracker.

Keep any leftover oil and salt.

Bake the crackers for 12-15 minutes until golden..

When they come out of the oven, brush again with the leftover oil and salt and leave to cool on a wire rack.
We like these with butter smeared on top or just as they are as a snack with maybe some apple slices.

They definitely need the second coat of oil and salt.

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Tomorrow morning we are off to trial that great new tent of mine at a campsite in the Cotswolds.

There will be 49 other families touched by Type 1 there.

So, lots of pancreases in the naughty corner in the Cotswolds this weekend, hey?

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There will be bacon sarnies!

There will be homemade chai in the evenings!

There will be sun (I hope)!

Back in the middle of next week.

Love to all.

xxxx

2011 ...

... is a year of plans.

There will be more

• knitting and a mastering (or should that be mistressing) of cables
• sewing (of our own clothes)
• learning new things (crochet for starters)
• planting veggies in the garden and eating them (that means you too, Frankie Boy)
• trips (to the Isle of Mull, the Cotswolds, Finland, the beach (lots) and Dorset are being planned)
• exercise & fresh air
• embracing of the moment
• music in our lives, both live and just around us at home
• art
• locally sourced food on our plates
• blogging and photos
• comments on blogs and yet no guilt if I don't find the time
• sleep ( a girl can dream ...)

There will be less

• screen time
• guilt
• worry about what others think
• fear of the future
• "responsibly sourced Madagascan prawns" on our plates (oh, yes, I fell for this one a month ago and hubby is still laughing at me!)
• time spent with people that don't sustain me or "get it" with regard to the D

Are you planning more or less of anything this year?

Happy 2011 and I look forward to sharing this year with you.

My husband posted this the other day (it's a friend of his) and I wanted to share it with you today, at the beginning of a new year.

It's raw beauty brings me to tears and it feels such a privilege to hear it each and every time.

Taking the D to Brum

We are just back from five days in Birmingham (nicknamed Brum for those of you unaware and confused by my cryptic title).

It was a first for all of us having never really got to know this lovely city before.

And it really is such a lovely, multi-cultural, friendly, lively city.

I really was so very impressed most especially at the fantastic, friendly service in all the cafes and restaurants. People spoke to me and engaged with Frank.

It is sadly not always the case elsewhere.

We had such a good time, stayed in an apartment in the Chinese Quarter and spent lots of time at the Frankfurt Christmas market that is there every year.

Andrew and I did what we call "divide and conquer", which involves us taking turns spending days or half days with Frank. It seems to work for us and then we get alone time in a coffee shop and a gallery or just mooching around.

Day one saw Frank and I at the Sealife Centre where his treat was this rather fetching shark on a stick! I try hard to get as many wooden and natural toys as I can but, c'mon, he's four and a half, sometimes a shark on a stick is just what is needed!!
At the market there was a cute little roundabout, which the boy had to ride three times and still kept chanting "Again, again, again, again" but at two quid a go we had to stop there.
At no point did he smile for me on this thing as he was so engrossed in driving that engine.

On our last day we went back to the BMAG (Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery) to show Frank the activities for children. We had both visited it on our alone days and want him to find some of the joy and beauty that we do in art.
Brimingham has the most amazing collection of art by the Pre-Raphaelites. Oh my, it was lovely.
It also boasts an Edwardian Tea Room, which is no bad thing ...
And then there was this amazing, just amazing, tactile, warm wooden puzzle of the Modigliani portrait above.

I loved this so much. Frank did it three times and had to be dragged away.

And then back home Frank and I had so enjoyed the pretzels we'd eaten we decided to make some of our own, leaving out the poaching them in water first (as I nearly set fire to the house last week making bagels and not remembering that a tea towel placed on the oven top next to an open flame WILL CATCH FIRE - I've lost a little poaching mojo).
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And onto the BIG D.

We had such a varied time with it all with Frank's number being so bloody random that I sometimes wonder if it isn't all a great big social experiment. His fingers are increasingly reluctant to bleed and I loathe pricking him four or five times every meal time. It's so crap and whilst I am on forced-jolly-auto-pilot, there is a part of me still screaming that I hate it and it's not right or fair.

My poor beautiful, brave, brave boy.

I find that wearing.

One night I slept so little and was up four times in the night that when it got to my alone day I spent it in the art gallery and then
bought a DVD and some yummy hummous and salady bits and lay on the sofa half asleep for the afternoon. Oh, and some chocolate.

Is it bad to go all the way to Birmingham to lie on a sofa for a couple of hours?

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I will be back tomorrow with my response to Jen's kind award (Thanks, lovely Jen!!) and seven things about me that you might not know.

You already know that I use the words "salady bits" ...

No sleep til ... well, just no sleep!

Another short trip to Henley-on-Thames with my boy. Just me, Frank and my friend, Anne.

After the shocking and so saddening news from last week I looked my fear in the eye and took Frank away for three nights in a B&B.

My reasoning being "Well, if it happens, it happens, I'll do my damnedest to prevent it, but will not give in and let it rule me".

Bravado before a fall?

Turns out the fear isn't so easy to dismiss.

No shit Sherlock!

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Henley is lovely, Severine is there and Frank and I already know and love the B&B and the family that run it (they put Brio trains out for him!).

It all sounds so great, hey?

But ... oh, the lack of sleep.

Maybe I just wasn't ready after the DIB story.

These things can creep into one's brain and fester.

With sole responsibility for Frank and with nerves still jangling I just couldn't sleep.

I tested and listened to breathing and tested again, finally falling into the arms of sleep around 4am and waking at 6am to check again and then doze until Frank bounded out of bed.

I thought a lot of Jen and her post a while ago where she declared something along the lines of "Oh, what's the point of even trying to sleep anyway?".

I was channelling Jen!

Then on our last day Frank got ill with a fever and spent all afternoon in bed.

I felt so frozen and yet somehow managed to sort out numbers for the nearest A&E and the Children's Unit with Jane, the landlady of the B&B.

She was fab but I felt so exposed and so very, very (more than usually) vulnerable.

I called Mr Muffinmoon and could barely string a sentence together.

My voice was tiny.

My sense of humour AOL.

Horrible.

However, at 9pm he rallied and got up, wandered around a bit, chatted and had some yoghurt.

I took a few deep breaths and after another sleepless night took him home.

I sleep better with Mr M fighting the D-Beast with me.

I will take Frank away again.

This much I know.

The rest I shall make up as I go along.

Right now, I am off to bed.
To sleep, oh boy, to sleep.

( Frank today. Funny boy, full of life.)