We’ve been snow-balling and hiding under the duvet. Gave up on the snowman as this is definitely the wrong type of snow.
Just updated my blog.
Meanwhile, here is a picture of J having fun.
jensen outside lower shaw farm shaw swindon in the snow
Traffic jam at Common Platt today (just before the Italian restaurant, Casa Paulo. Sheep on the road.
In order to avoid traffic chaos, I got herding. Boy, do I love sheep. They are so much easier to project manage than cats, horses, children and lawyers. I have yet to meet a sheep with attitude. Apart from a nasty moment, when a sheep separatist group decided to lay siege to the restaurant’s bin store, all back safely in field for time being.
sheep looking for a way out licensed under creative commons licence,copyright, http://www.mattcarnock.co.uk
Now I’m back at my desk feeling like a real gaucho.
Seriously, it’s left me with a really good feel-good feeling. I never got that on the school-run in High Wycombe. I can almost reconcile myself to relocating miles away from the nearest Balti House and Costa franchise.
Oh dear, no idea where the weeks have gone. We are back to school on Monday. Christmas seems so long ago.
Standing stones at Avebury Christmas 2012
We stuck to our resolution of having a low-key Christmas lunch, tomato soup at Avebury (we sacrified a chicken and the brussels sprouts in the evening). Here are the pictures of our Christmas lunch, taken just the other side of Silbury Hill.
Now back home, trying to combine feeding J his high-fat diet and writing for my blog. Latest venture, Bircher Muesli
Mummy and Jensen at Silbury Hill Christmas Day 2012
Wish we could be in Cricklade for Christmas…….
Here are some pictures from the High Street. Window dressing there seems a bit of a tradition….everything from the achingly sweet to ultra modern.
Still no developments on house front for us (but watch this space).
Waitingfor another frosty morning now J on holiday so I can go back and take some serious photos….I would like to document the window displays, all so festive and pretty.
Definitely more feel-good factor there than at Wharf Green, Swindon, which was looking decidedly bleak yesterday, a screen and Christmas tree and an empty and undecorated square. Council-induced madness not to have the Christmas market back…….
Christmas on the High Street
nativity scene Cricklade High Street
frosty morning lower bridge Cricklade
We are finally feeling festive here.
the art show starts early
The last few days we have driven along a Winter Wonderland from Hayes Knoll to Cricklade, dazzled by the whiteness. Much better than the wet, though the single skien bathroom in the lean-to has killed any literary toilet habits (we will soon be breaking the ice in the pan before we wee).
J broke up from school yesterday. I went to the end-of-term carol service in St Sampson’s in Cricklade. He was, of course, the only child without his Sunday Best Blazer that morning, necessitating another manic drive across the Wootton Bassett plains.
entrance to prior park school cricklade in the ice
I almost stayed off my cough, armed with a bottle of water and lethal doses of Fishermen’s Friends. The alternative plan (sitting on the end and discretely leaving if a coughing fit threatened) was thwarted by my becoming wedged in by a precariously stacked mountain of hassocks and Mr J and his squad of prefects patrolling the door for late-comers.
What’s worse, mother with hacking cough interrupting angelic chorister or mother collapsing (very publicly) into nativity display?
Any way, we got through it, enjoyed the carols and the mince pies. Now Junior and I are catching up on all the important things. Nintendo Level 3, in his case, Guardian Shorts on my Kindle (me).
We have also written the annual “Round Robin” and now I am (more or less) vertical will endeavour to find a way to put it on the blog. Probably as a page so those who wish can avoid the annual bland….despite a very busy year, I reread it and wondered, is that all we did?
Red Lion Cricklade gets festive
We watched Toy Story 3 on DVD yesterday and both ended up crying over the ending. The scene when Andy goes off to college and leaves his Mum and toys behind.
J has announced he doesn’t want to go to college. Worse, he doesn’t know what he will do if L goes to college. Where will Mummy live?
His solution apparently was to marry L and let Mummy live with them. Failing that, he informed me, he will marry Erin (if L goes to college). And if L and Erin should both go to college, then Minnie is his intended.
Sweet or scary? Or just a reminder to increase my pension provision?
Sadly, I have failed unspectacularly at updating the Rectory Readers’ web site. And I have now run off to the wilds of Wiltshire. Nevertheless, I thought I would add a few words about what I’ve been reading over the past month. Who knows I may actually get around to writing those regular reviews I always promised.
This month has been quite challenging, however, on account of-
Well, here goes-
Down and Out in Paris in London
rescued from my skip
I last read this as an A Level student (working my way through Orwell as 1984 was a set text). I found my old copy in the back of the car, saved from the boxes of books and papers I jettisoned into the recycle skip in Walters Ash. So I started reading it as it was the only book I had in the cottage. But I had forgotten how brilliant Orwell was. Not his novels, but his reportage. It is an almost timeless account of the grinding boredom and hopelessness of poverty. Forget 1984. This should be a set text.
The Finkler Question Short-listed for lots of prizes and lots of people find it very funny. Excellently written and I did find myself caring what happened to the characters, which surprised me as I spent the early part of the book being irritated by them. Great book, if you like that sort of thing…..but I wouldn’t rush to read the sequel. Sorry.
The Wreckers This was a factual account of ship wreckers in the UK by Barbara Bathurst, not the thriller of the same name. I bought it following our jolly around the SS Great Britain in Bristol. Afterall it’s summertime and, denied my weeks in Walberswick, I am enjoying a small nautical obsession. Well written and illuminating. I am just a bit put out that Du Maurier’s depiction of Cornish piracy and treachery is, if not historically inaccurate.much exagerated.
The City of Beasts
City of Beasts
Another book I picked up in the Sue Ryder shop in Cricklade for £1 (thereby honouring my waste-not and recycle resolutions). It is the sort of book I feel I should like, rather more than I do. For a much better review see Just a Normal Girl in London. I am afraid I skipped quite a bit of the lyrical prose (but I enjoyed the overall story, which reminded me in a strange way fo a more gentle version of Doris Lessing’s Ben).
Well, that’s it for now. I am half-way through a chick-lit novel at the moment. And enjoying it. It was either that or Monty Don (who will probably be my next £1 bargain). It’s one of the great thing about this pared down country-living. Broadening my tastes….or, at least, ensuring I appreciate the Waterstones in Bristol even more.
We can’t believe there are only two full weeks of the holidays left. And we feel that we haven’t had (a) a holiday and (b) a summer.
The Thames at Cricklade – so there was one sunny day
More rain today. The bathroom roof has held up, but the water has been pooling outside. It’s concrete, on a slope with no soak-away. I think I may just have worked out why the floor is buckling….
J was in the Big Adventure Club in Prior Park today. He seems to have enjoyed it, although he eschewed the “water play” session. Unlike him, but as it was tipping down outside, it was probably a sound (though illogical) choice.
After dropping him off, I wondered around the environs of Cricklade, then had my second breakfast in the excellent Staceys. I say “excellent” because they do a brilliant super-value big breakfast and I have discovered a liking for thickly buttered toast. But I shall be as big as a horse by the time J leaves Prior Park.
Roads flooded on the way to collect J. Not pleasant.
I was, however, delighted to see some gypsies had moved into a field just outside Cricklade on the Purton Road. Two delightful colourful old caravans (smoke was billowing from one) and some proper gypsy horses; one cobby and black and white, one cobby and strawberry roan. Am I too old to run away and join them?
It is hard to believe it is nearly a week since J went into the John Radcliffe for his “bronch.”
As I got the call to bring him in on the Thursday (whilst mooching around the Designer Outlet), we didn’t have time to get nervous. J spent the day enjoying himself at a Smiley Cat’s workshop at the Steam Museum. Afterwards, he seemed happy enough to “buy into” our explanation that the doctors were going to give him sleepy dust and put a magic camera in him when he was asleep. Excited even, which is either a relief or terribly sad, depending on your perspective.
The worst part was the no food after midnight and no liquids after 6am rule. Our plans to get up early (before Jensen) were thwarted . We wrestled with our consciences as we tucked into our pain au chocolats and tried not to listen to the protests and cries of hunger.
On Friday, we arrived at the JR an hour early. Having allowed for Oxford traffic, we were caught out when there was none. We quickly adapted to “hospital time” (endless waiting interspersed with flurries of activities). Jensen got a bit suspicious at the Emla cream (used to numb his veins). Otherwise, he enjoyed himself on Play Station (I think he rates the JR’s children’s ward up there with the play centre).
Not J’s (no clouds)
He took the canula well (distracted by the play therapist who challenged him to Find Stig) and did a good impression of a drunk as the anesthetic took effect. We kissed him good bye and left Dr T to do her stuff.
Twenty minutes and a couple of strong coffees later, we were back on the ward with a very sleepy Jensen. His sats were good and he was soon off oxygen. For about an hour though, he was very drowsy, so I enjoyed flicking through Ideal Home Magazine and having those desultory parent-child conversations I’d always dreamed about. At one point he did complain that I had two heads and he kept asking when the doctor was going to give him the sleepy dust. But he was soon back to normal and demanding food.
We get the results in about two weeks’ time. Dr M says one of J’s lungs had a lot of white gunk in it, but no obvious signs of infection. Over the past couple of days he’s been quite productive, but we’ll just have to wait and see. At least the “bronch” went well and we can now concentrate on getting him out of doors and using his lungs.
As the body count mounts
Number One, nearly got to exchange before “minor” (or not so minor) structural problems revealed.
Number Two, absolutely delightful, but we dragged our heels because of perceived flood issues – and went for Number One instead (not the safe option we thought) and when we revisited it to make an offer it had gone.
Number Three, more prevarication, during which it “sold” (actually not convinced that I can survive a location more than 10 kms from the nearest source of fresh coffee).
Number Four….more prevarication (or “research” as I call it) under offer….just when we were about to make a move.
Number Five (well, sort of). We never got as far as viewing – estate agents phoned to say an offer had been made, which had been accepted, but we could keep our appointment and consider making a counter-offer. Nice to know high ethical standards live on…..
Ian now jokes that I could hire myself out to frustrated sellers. As soon as I start to show an interest, the house goes under offer…..a prediction that is proving uncannily plausible as a possible No 6 apparently now also has an offer pending.
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