Monday, 3 March 2008

Snow, concrete marmalade and not making fudge..

It has been almost suspiciously quiet here at the Twiggly Hoose. Apart from a few kitchen catastrophes, very little has happened.....apart from SNOW!

Yes, no sooner had I decided to think about starting off my dwarf beans on the kitchen windowsill, the heavens opened and sprinkled us liberally with the white stuff.

Twiglet is very impressed with snow. Having only seen about three flakes in his 22 months, this morning was extremely exciting.


'What's that, Ellis?'


'Ooooh....Ooohhhh.......*manic laughter and much pointing*'


' Snow...can Ellis say snow?'


'Nooooooooooooooo.....*more manic cackling as he tries to climb out of window*'


No sooner had we got downstairs and he stopped yelling 'Noooooooo!!!!' long enough to guzzle half his Weetabix and smear the other half over the table, the chair and his hair; he was attempting a somewhat gung-ho escape from the back door clad only in his vest.


We got dressed, spent 10 minutes looking for mittens, gave up looking for mittens and put socks on his hands, and ventured outside into the snowy loveliness.....




He kicked some, he threw some, he tried to eat some....fortunately, it wasn't yellow.....he wandered off.....




Then he fell over. I couldn't take a photo of this, as I was laughing too much. Bad Mummy.


What else has happened recently?

We made marmalade. Well, I say marmalade...what we actually got was something that could be used as building foundations. One thinks one missed the setting point of said marmalade by, whooo, about 5 minutes. There is still a knife stuck fast in the jar. What we did manage to taste was, indeed, gorgeous; and the actual process of marmalade-making was much easier than I thought so I feel another stab at this particular pastime should be considered soon.



I thought I would try and be clever and make fudge for my mum for Mothers' Day. It looked easy enough in the cookbook. Here is a picture of said fudge....

Mmm....yum.

Note to self: Buy flowers next year.






Welcome To Holland....

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean, Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills... and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy...and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there.

And for the rest of your life, you will say, "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things... about Holland. "


By Emily Perl Kingsley
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