Stories

Sometimes you just see things - people, animals, objects, places even - that give you a little pang of I don't know what. Sadness? Sympathy? Longing for simpler times? Like this forlorn pig, sitting in the window of an empty farmhouse we explored last summer. He belonged to someone once.

There's also a sense of curiosity. This bookmark was hiding inside a secondhand book I bought a few years ago.

Who were Peggy and Alice? Friends? Sisters? Colleagues or neighbours?

This was another picture found inside a book. I love how they all look so happy. Maybe they're just about to set off on a ramble, maybe they've just got back. There are some interesting hairstyles and glasses. And trousers...

I actually paid for this photo. I saw it at a stall selling antique clocks. It tugged at my heartstrings. The man looks so proud of that chair - I can only assume he made it himself.

Isn't he sweet? I wonder if he was local and if he had a happy life. I hope so. If you can be so pleased with something so simple, I'd imagine you'd be pretty content with your lot.

Sharp and bright

There are definitely signs of life in the garden. The rhubarb is more or less indestructable - we moved it a few weeks ago to make way for a shed and it seems quite happy in its new spot. Last year there was lots of it so I got plenty of compote, cake (I use Nigella's Damp Apple and Almond Cake recipe, substituting apple for rhubarb) and crumble. And the colour's so vivid - zingy pink and acid green.

It was sunny and bright today but bitterly cold. I took Joe out to Culcheth for a few provisions and a quick walk. Of course, I had a good look in people's gardens and spotted lots of snowdrops and green shoots poking their way out of the soil.

And we had hot and sour soup for tea - suitably sharp, warming flavours for a day as cold as today. I could eat this a few times a week. Noodles, ginger, chilli, pork, noodles, lime juice, nam pla, soy, garlic, mushrooms, baby corn, pak choi. Another Nigella recipe (slightly modified). Eaten by candlelight from my favourite bowls.

Blaming it on the weather

Today started like this:

And ended like this:

I actually swapped my morning coffee - even after a particularly poor night's sleep - for herbal tea (raspberry leaf if you're interested, left over from being pregnant... and no, it doesn't work at bringing on labour but it does taste nice). And the mid-morning cup of Earl Grey was replaced by apple and cinnamon.

Soup for lunch followed by an apple and a (very) small dish of Greek yogurt with honey and a few walnuts.

But after getting caught twice in hail showers - again - and the afternoon feeling so very long, I succumbed to coffee. And cake. I've told Jay in no uncertain terms: finish it this evening or it goes in the bin. It can't be in the house. It calls to me from its tin and I have to answer.

No more baking until Easter. And no, pancakes do not count as baking.

Coming soon: spring

I'm always relieved to get January and February out of the way. And in just over 3 weeks we'll be in March. Which means spring isn't that far away. It's the only time I like yellow flowers - daffodils and gorse in particular.

But my favourites are already out. I mentioned yesterday I'd got some pussy willow stems. They're giant ones, and remind me of the nature table at primary school.

They're a reminder that the gloomiest months are almost gone. But today we went for a walk and got caught in a hail shower. Good job I baked a cake yesterday - and that there's plenty left...

Details (part one)

There are some things I have a weakness for. One of those things is blouses. Or tops. Although I don't really like either word - 'blouses' conjures up what you might be expected to wear when working in a building society; 'tops' doesn't really mean much at all.

What I like are not quite shirts. They don't button through. They're not particularly fitted. They go well with skinny jeans and slim-fitting pants.

This particular one was bought several years ago when I was footloose, fancy-free and well-paid. Fortunately it was money well spent - an investment I suppose. It always accompanies me when I go on holiday. 

I like the buttons and beading detailing. And it lets me eat a big meal with dessert and still be able to breathe out.

These blouses/tops/whatever are dressed-up enough for going out somewhere special but look good on less formal occasions too.

I'm also a sucker for a high neck. Maybe I would have made a good Victorian (or Edwardian). I have a few rules when it comes to dressing - I'm not a cleavage-y person, so low-cut rarely happens. And if you're wearing tight on the top, go slouchier on the bottom. And vice-versa. Although slouchy all over works when lounging around...

This goes nicely with dangly earrings. I have lots. Unfortunately, Joe has recently turned into a bit of a magpie/lobster - if it catches his eye, his little pincer fingers grab on and pull. Hard. So at the moment jewellery is small and hair is scraped back. 

I'm sure you can be glamorous and a mother at the same time. It's just a matter of compromise.

Farm shopping

Today was so bright and sunny (the forecast actually got it right!) that we decided to head out and honour our pledge to buy fruit, veg and meat from small independent suppliers. We opted for west Lancashire so we could fit in a visit to some relatives. And there are a lot of farm shops out there.

We drove down the charmingly-named Low Courage Lane to Toogood Farm Shop. It was our first visit and it was quite impressive - not one of those chilly, no-frills farm shops but not one of those which markets itself as 'artisan' (and marks up its prices accordingly) either.

There was lots to choose from inside - plenty of fruit and veg as well as bread, free range meat, herbs and spices, cakes, snacks... They also had locally grown flowers, and I bought some daffodils and pussy willow.

Some things I liked the look of but suspected they'd end up shrivelled and shrunken at the back of the cupboard.

There were lots of eggs, and you didn't have to look far to see where they'd come from...

The staff were friendly too - when they saw my camera they suggested I go in the barn and photograph the cows. 

They were far from camera shy. I couldn't resist patting their wet noses.

We'll definitely be paying a return visit sometime.

Later, we went for a walk around Croston. It's a village I used to drive through when I was in my fourth year at university doing my PGCE and living back at home. It was a bit of a commute but I always enjoyed it - especially when I wasn't stuck behind a tractor, dodging falling carrots.

I felt quite nostalgic. And we had to indulge in chips for lunch. The chip shop's apparently the best for miles so we were duty bound to give it a try (it was salad for tea. Never mind).

I miss Lancashire. These visits are necessary.

Giving up

There's no shame in giving up. Modern life is demanding enough as it is without trying to cram in activities which are not rewarding or enjoyable (with the obvious exceptions of work, cleaning and queueing). I won't even get started on dealing with call centres.

You may have noticed I'm studying for a photography diploma. Well, make that past tense. Because I've decided to Give Up. 

The course is online, cost quite a lot and is extremely difficult. The focus (excuse the pun) is very much on the technical aspects of photography, and there's an assumption you're very knowledgeable to begin with. I'm not a technically-minded person. In fact, I started the course because I wanted to use my camera to its full potential and learn lots of creative techniques.

The reality was quite different - pages and pages of background reading on the history and science of photography, baffling assignments and the overwhelming feeling that I wasn't good enough to pass the course.

I began to avoid using my camera. I put off starting assignments, citing bad weather or being too busy. And as my 12-month time allowance dwindled I started to feel a sense of relief.

Having made the decision to give up, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. I found much more helpful, user-friendly tutorials on websites like this. I bought this book. And - excuse a second pun - things started to click. I'm back in love with my camera.

Giving up isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it's necessary.