291: embroidery envy

Saturday was the annual pilgrimage to Ally Pally to worship at the altar of fabrics and yarn and crafty gadgets, also known (this year at least) as Knit and Stitch. Heather and I were joined by Tor, one of her colleagues, and we had a most excellent mooch around the exhibitions and graduate shows before heading into the danger zone of trader stands.

I love the graduate shows – this year I was very taken with two who were using stitch to encode messages into their work. One had been inspired by a visit with their (very proud) mum to Bletchley Park when they were nine, and another had created Braille embroidery. I’d definitely visit an exhibition about secret messages in embroidery! I wish I had the vision and talent to do this sort of thing.

There were also many beautiful embroidered birds at The Embroiderers Guild, and some interesting materials in use – upcycled building textiles, plastics which mimicked natural forms and some Korean goblins (‘dokkaebi’) inspired by found objects like lost hats and socks.

We spotted large gatherings of Bees (the sewing kind) including some of this year’s crop, and stroked a lot of fabric as we wandered up and down the aisles. I was very restrained, coming home with some fabric for a new version of the Folkwear Basics Jacket, an embroidery kit which is all French knots and a beautiful embroidered bird brooch. I rarely wear necklaces at work as often have a lanyard, so I usually wear brooches or badges instead. I probably didn’t need another one but I really liked it…

We took our own packed lunches as the food is always disappointing and overpriced at these things – there’s never anywhere to sit and what you end up with is the world’s most expensive meal deal. A well-deserved tea in the afternoon while being charmed by an adorably smily baby was quite reasonable, and then we made it home. The magic laundry fairy hadn’t managed to finish sorting the four clean loads stuffed into the trug on my bed but what can you do?

Things making me happy this week

This beautiful tree on the way to the office in Islington
My cousin sending me pictures of toadstools from her early morning walks
Our third access panel meeting – we’re so lucky to have a generous group of people who are willing to share their experience and thoughts about our new Centre.
A personal best in the Cardiff Half last Sunday – 3 hours and 2 minutes on my Strava, and 3 hours 9 on the chip time. I really wanted to come in under 3 hours but I was very close! I was less impressed with the serious aches on Monday and Tuesday. The weather was great, and the crowd support all round the course was excellent. I was touched to see my lovely friend Jen at 13k, as no one ever comes out to see me! She even gave me a hug, despite the fact that I was a sweaty mess. My cousin Hev leapt out of the Rock Choir at mile 11 with another hug.

Ben and Jerry’s Minter Wonderland is back in the Co-op. It’s my favourite.

Today it’s Apple Day at Copped Hall, so Thing 2 and I will be manning my gazebo. She’s been making earrings with the content of my button tin and she’ll be selling them, while I’ll have my usual collection of crochet decorations and jewellery, including these googly-eyed sprouts.

Next Saturday you can find me in central London at the London Welsh Centre’s Autumn Market, probably also with Thing 2 in tow…

Same time next week, gang!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Lost Paths – Jack Cornish

A Rule Against Murder/A Trick of the Light – Louise Penny

Wine of Angels/Midwinter of the Spirit – Phil Rickman (Audible)

290: sing it loud

This week a Facebook acquaintance who’s been attending protests in Westminster – great days out, apparently, these protests – shared videos of these ladies singing along to various songs while waving their flags about. One was a Chas ‘n’ Dave song – Chas ‘n’ Dave, who released a song criticising Brexit. That Chas ‘n’ Dave.

The other song they were shrieking along to was Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline. Yes, it’s become associated with English football in the past five years, but I’m pretty sure Diamond would object to it being used to protest against migrants and migration. Diamond, the grandson of Jewish migrants, who in 1980 wrote the song America about their journey escaping oppression in Eastern Europe and the welcome they hoped to receive in the States. Diamond, who got on the phones to gather support for Obama. That Neil Diamond. (I am looking forward to the biopic with Hugh Jackman).

I suppose any song can be a ‘protest song’ depending on who’s singing it, and when and why, but my feeling is that you should probably do a bit of research into its background first. We all spent a lot of time at school discos shouting ‘We Don’t Need No Education’ at our poor teachers, despite the double negative proving that we clearly did. None of us had seen the film at that point.

Musicians are, of course, entitled to object to this. Just ask that orange basketcase, who’s probably received enough cease-and-desist letters from musicians objecting to the way their music was being used to wallpaper his garish new ballroom. John Fogerty objected to the use of Fortunate Son – about people who avoided the draft thanks to rich and influential parents (bone spurs,anyone?). Neil Young’s Rockin’ In The Free World. REM, Rihanna, Tom Petty, Aerosmith, the Stones…the list goes on. Even Dee Snyder of Twisted Sister, who originally gave permission to use We’re Not Gonna Take It then withdrew it when he heard Trump’s policies.

Labi Siffre has spoken out this week about his beautiful anti-apartheid anthem Something Inside So Strong being used at a far right demo in London, issuing a cease-and-desist against Tommy Robinson. The irony of Robinson claiming to tell ‘his’ stories* through song and then choosing one written by a black, atheist, gay man was not lost except, perhaps, on Robinson’s (or Yaxley-Lennon, or whatever) supporters who messaged Siffre to thank him for the song. The importance of research can’t be underestimated, as I said…. (*he also claims to be a journalist)

My own acquaintance with protest songs stems from my parents’ record collection – political satire in the form of Pete Seeger’s Little Boxes, protest folk from Steeleye Span and Joan Baez. Later I graduated to Springsteen (another biopic to look forward to) and Billy Bragg, Bob Dylan and Creedence, U2, Little Steven, Peter Gabriel’s Biko.

In my first term at uni our tutor introduced us via his guitar and banjo to Woody Guthrie‘s Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos). Springsteen’s covers of Guthrie’s This Land is Your Land and his homage in the shape of The Ghost of Tom Joad still haunt my playlist. A friend played me Alice’s Restaurant Massacree by Arlo Guthrie – I wanted to call Thing 3 Woody but my Beloved objected, but his middle name is Arlo and his first name is Dylan (so there).

Uni also coincided with the release of Rage Against The Machine’s Killing in the Name, and an introduction to Dead Kennedys and punk. My self-initiated credit essay was on anti-war songs in the Vietnam era.

I suppose every generation has their own protest songs and singers, but it does seem somewhat reductive that the bugbears of the Guthries and the Seegers are coming back around and their music is becoming relevant again. Fighting fascists, racism, the poor and downtrodden, the treatment of migrants – Woody Guthrie even wrote a song about ‘Old Man Trump’, the OB’s father, and his actions as a crooked landlord.

I may have mentioned once or twice that TODAY I will be walking the Cardiff half-marathon for Choose Love, originally as I’ve worked with refugee and asylum-seeking families but now it’s mostly out of sheer anger at the way people are behaving in Epping. A lot of my training in the past few weeks has been soundtracked by this playlist, put together by Tom Morello of Rage Against The Machine in response to the behaviour of ICE agents in the US. It’s good angry music. Morello’s alter ego The Nightwatchman is also a good source of protest songs.

In a world where comedians can get taken off air for making jokes about the President, where mis- and dis- information gets further than truth….we need protest songs and singers. We don’t, however, need this fascist groove thang.

More here and British ones here. Happy listening. What’s your favourite protest song?

Things I’m not protesting about this week

Autumn colours
Baby cuddles with gorgeous Indrani and a good catch-up with her mum Jhinuk
Making people happy by offering them jobs
When your direct report phones to say thank you for being supportive and kind
Finding new walks to the new office – my favourite is through Clerkenwell Green so far
Exciting kick off conversations about playful furniture with the wonderful Play Build Play team who ‘got’ exactly what was in my head when I wrote the brief
Family dinner out on Saturday night in Cardiff
Meeting the panellists from the Borough of Sanctuary grants team on Tuesday
Discovering a new crime series to read. Curses!
Thing 3 taking up baking, and Thing 2 making amaretti
A gorgeous mistbow over the village on Wednesday morning

Next week I’ll be at Copped Hall Family Apple Day touting my crocheted wares! Pop along if you’re in the area.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The October Man/Tales From The Folly/The Masquerades of Spring – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

The Grey Wolf – Louise Penny

The Legacy of Arniston House – T.L.Huchu

289: sorry, what?

I was going to write about protest songs this week but I haven’t had time to do the research into it that I wanted to. So I’ve saved it as a draft somewhere else instead and you’ll just have to wait.

Do you know, I’m not sure I managed to get the hang of last week and now here we are on Sunday again. A couple of four day weeks are all very well but at the moment there’s way too much work for those four days. My email inbox is in triple figures when my ideal number is ‘less than 20’. Double figures are but a pipe dream right now, and there have been days when I haven’t even managed to read them all and delete those which don’t require any action.

It’ll all be worth it though, when we welcome all the new team members we’re interviewing (22 interviews down, three to go), when we throw open the gates to a new venue fully committed to accessibility and inclusion, with new programmes for people of all ages and a fantastic set of exhibitions. Until then, I suspect there will be a lot of 4am wake ups. It’s dark at 4am, you know, and even the stupid birds aren’t awake at this time of year – which is an improvement on the peacocks all summer or the angry chickens in France. I think. At least earplugs muffle the birds. Is there a brainplug available? I couldn’t even go downstairs as my living room was full of people asleep on sofas and airbeds.

In a coaching session in July I had a great conversation with someone who helped me work out a plan for just these moments but it involves having five minutes to yourself to do the thing.

It helps (a bit) when you talk to people about what you’re doing and they’re excited, or you talk about access to an expert and you’re doing all the right things, or when people contact you because they want to work with you – or they say yes to your ideas. That was Friday’s meeting with a local SEND school which turns out to be about ten minutes from our site.

What doesn’t help is when public transport conspires against you to ensure that you can’t get anywhere on time: on Wednesday I planned my journey to arrive in Stratford with an hour in hand to get some quiet work done in a coffee shop somewhere. I arrived at Discover with a minute to spare: the bus to Epping was late and then got stuck in traffic, the train took well over an hour to do a journey of 22 minutes, and then they took the train out of service. The rest of the week was not an improvement. There seem to be speed restrictions in place between Epping and Woodford so everything is slow – but not slow enough to be able to claim the journeys back from TfL as that needs to be a delay of 15 minutes or more. Grr. Still, interminable train journeys at least meant I got to start (and finish) this little Autumn Fairy. She fits perfectly in this Bonne Maman jar which I’ve been saving for a moment just like this.

Things not causing me stress this week

The very beautiful Wye Valley, which I walked 15 miles around last Sunday over two walks. The first one was solo and the second was with my sisters and cousins. There’s a lot of uphill, you know. We walked across the Biblins Bridge, had an ice cream in the cafe, an excellent Sunday lunch at the Saracen’s Head and enjoyed the autumn.
By Tuesday I ached all over but I feel in good shape for the Cardiff Half Marathon next Sunday – there is still time to sponsor me as it’s an excellent cause which really annoys the local racists. It would be amazing to make it to £500.

Afternoon tea in aid of Macmillan at Jill’s house on Saturday
Seeing the live action How To Train Your Dragon with Thing 2 on Saturday. A worthy remake – I really enjoyed it.
The right person winning the Sewing Bee for a change (it took a while to catch up)
Conker season
Making a start on stock for the Christmas stalls
The Merlin app – identifying so many different birds. I am a convert from BirdNet now.

Next Sunday I’ll be live and lurching around Cardiff, hoping to come in around the three hour mark – pray for nice weather!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Stone and Sky/What Abigail Did That Summer/Winter’s Gifts – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

How Not To Be A Supermodel – Ruth Crilly

288: cocktails, cake and cheese

This weekend I am back in the Shire, hanging out with the girl cousins (well, most of them) and slowly stewing myself in the hot tub out on the deck. We’re back at Forest Holidays in Berry Hill, near Coleford – my first proper boyfriend lived round the corner from here and our first date (27 years ago) was at Coleford cinema to see Buster, starring Phil Collins.

A night walk on Friday let us see scores of stars away from towns, a shooting star and the International Space Station zooming across the sky. No wild boars or deer, but lots of tawny owls shrieking.

Two walks on Saturday morning yielded a whole lot of interesting mushrooms and toadstools, as well as a fairy door trail. I kept wandering off the path to peer at treetrunks covered in tiny fungi, narrowly avoiding the acorns plunging down from the trees. They were crashing through the canopy and hitting hard enough to bounce. The afternoon was rainy and the breeze kicked up towards the evening, but the sun came out.

On Saturday afternoon we went to Plates and Shakers for tapas: check out the menus and see if you can decipher what’s in the cocktails, because we couldn’t. We’d booked a table for six, but they only had one for five (but squeezed a group of seven in later, so hmmm) so we squidged up on squashy sofas and drank cava and ate tapas.

Saturday evening was all about cocktails, cake and cheese, celebrating Hev’s birthday in style. Today we’re off to the Saracen’s Head in Symonds Yat for Sunday lunch and then reality must reinsert itself on Tuesday. We’re now planning our next adventure, which may or may not involve ABBA. It’s so lovely having a bunch of people I’ve known all my life to spend time with!

Things making me happy this week

Pumpkins 🎃 – trying to make these tiny pumpkins the right size to go in the small jars I bought has been a bit trial and error but I think I’ve cracked it now. The lovely nail techs at the Nail Bar in Harlow were very taken with them (I was in for a pedicure. Manicures don’t stand up to excessive crocheting)

Being able to go into the office and see people! No tube strikes this week.
Things 2 (with Thing 3 as sous chef) making dinner on Wednesday – Korean Fried Chicken, which was amazing. The worst part of adulting is having to think about dinner Every. Single. Night.
Buying my first Christmas present. Now I must ensure the safe place I put it in is one I can remember.
A long walk in the Forest last Sunday in glorious solitude, to High Beach and back via Copped Hall.
The Merlin Bird App – better than BirdNet. We heard a spotted flycatcher!

This morning if the weather behaves I will head for Symonds Yat Rock to admire the view!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Wild Hares and Hummingbirds – Stephen Moss

Clown Town – Mick Herron

Amongst Our Weapons/Stone and Sky – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

Monday Monday – Ben Aaronovitch

How Not To Be A Supermodel – Ruth Crilly

287: this little piggy

…went to market

Actually, it would be more accurate to say the little piggy will be going to market in a few weeks – I have two stalls lined up in October so I am getting myself organised with tiny things for my stall. These pumpkins and Christmas cactuses – both designed by me – will be there. The cacti are in vintage espresso mugs I found in a charity shop – they’re Whittard Christmas ones.

You have no idea how disturbing it is that espresso mugs from 2004 are considered vintage, by the way. I am also vintage, it turns out, being more than 20 but less than 100. (I checked to see if I was mid-century modern but it turns out I am too young for that.)

On 12 October I’ll be at the Copped Hall Family Apple Day, and on 18 October at the London Welsh Centre for their Welsh Autumn Market which is part of the Bloomsbury Festival. This is an excellent place if you haven’t been, and if you have a well-behaved dog (or family) you can bring them too. It doesn’t say whether the family needs to be well-behaved. The free tickets can be booked through the link above. Come along and say hello!

In the spirit of spookiness I have also been capturing ghosts ready for Halloween. My learning from this has been not to use white yarn on the tube as it just goes grey. This pickled ghost is called Clarence, after the would-be angel in It’s a Wonderful Life. I love the way they look as if they’re floating.

…stayed home

At least until Friday when the Tube strike was over, when I finally got to visit our new office. Big windows! Natural light! Level access! In the last few months our amazing office manager has co-ordinated approximately a million job interviews, found a new office nearer our site, packed up and moved our old office (we did help!), overhauled our IT systems and has done all of it with her usual calm and aplomb – and without us ever running out of milk and coffee. I don’t know how she does it. I also don’t know what we’d do without her.

I got a lift in with Jill as far as Walthamstow and bumped into an ex-colleague on Wood St station so had a lovely catch-up on the train followed by some crochet and audio book on the 38 bus from Hackney.

Strikes don’t seem to have as much impact* since we all learned to work at home and since the rise (or curse) of the Lime bikes and so on. I almost got run over by a teenager on a Lime bike yesterday – he was on the pavement and hadn’t paid for it so it was making the loud clicky noise that’s a dead giveaway. A colleague has ranked all rentable e-bike riders from worst to best by brand, and while Lime aren’t the worst they’re certainly the ones you see bearing down on you more often. They’re incredibly heavy so are dangerous to fall off, and they also charge by the minute so riders often run red lights or ignore crossings to avoid paying extra. I’d be willing to bet most of them couldn’t produce their Cycling Proficiency badge, too.

Anyway, the RMT were responsible for this week’s four day strike and it’s not about pay but about working hours and wellbeing. I approve, I think, especially as I’d already decided to hold my first round of interviews on Teams rather than in person which worked out nicely.

*At least once you get into Central London.

Things making me happy this week (not roast beef)

I am very relieved to see our local Co-op’s glow-up has been completed and we have the village shop back, albeit without the fresh bakery section which is disappointing. It does have a self-service till now which is a plus as it should reduce the queues which tend to build up in there.
Popping out for a drink with Miriam and Jill on Thursday evening to put the world to rights.
Being taken out for lunch by Thing 1 – also to the pub, but it was a very nice pizza.
Catching up with this year’s Sewing Bee and finding two new series of Brassic on Netflix. It’s sweary but it’s one of those wonderfully gentle British comedies. Joseph Gilgun is great in it.
The new Slough House thriller appearing on my Kindle – Clown Town, by Mick Herron. Such a good series.

Today I am off for a long walk – only three weeks to go till Cardiff Half. Next week I’ll be back adjacent to the Shire, in the Forest of Dean, with the horde of cousins celebrating another big birthday.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

False Value/Amongst Our Weapons – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

Wild Hares and Hummmingbirds – Stephen Moss

The Snow Angel – Lulu Taylor

Clown Town – Mick Herron

286: weather continues…

Large parts of the week were like this…

…but we did manage to escape into the wilds for a walk along the Blavet at St Nicolas des Eaux (which turns out to be closed on Tuesdays). We saw lots of kingfishers, a giant fish leaping out of the water and the odd rain shower which caused us to put on and take off our waterproofs several times.

By Thursday we were able to head out for an early morning walk up to one of the locks and back, with a blowy trip to Larmor-Plage in the afternoon…

…and on Friday we raided Leclerc at Hennebont for supplies and then hit the beach at Lomener for a swim.

In between I managed some very green crochet…

…and some excellent naps.

I’ve seen shooting stars in the dark skies, Eurofighters over Lorient and a coypu in a tree, eaten almost two whole truckles of Port Salut and many, many prawns.

Lots of birds of prey (BOPs) have been spotted, including hen harriers and buzzards. Owls and coypu have soundtracked the night, and bats have swooped and dipped around us.

The trip back was, of course, in glorious sunshine.

A stop to feed the sparrows at aire de Bolleville….

…and finally back to my family, at least some of whom have missed me.

Looking forward to a swim today! And a tube strike all week…oh joy.

Normal service will resume!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Ghost Cat – Alex Howard

The Queen of Fives – Alex Hay

Lies Sleeping – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

Midnight and Blue – Ian Rankin

Two years of back issues of Inside Crochet magazine!

285: quit bugging me

There are many things I like about summer but mosquitoes are not one of them. No matter how much go-away spray you use before you go out for a walk the little beasts always manage to find the single square centimetre you missed – the bit where your bra strap moved, or (as has happened to me a lot recently) they fly up your trouser legs and savage the backs of your knees. I’m sporting five on my arms and one on my neck at the moment. I’m sure they play a vital role in the ecosystem or something but if they could do it without nibbling me I’d appreciate it.

They are the price you pay when you’re staying by a river and want to go out bat hunting at dusk, however. After London sister Tan spotted a Daubenton’s Bat on a walk along the Blavet earlier this year we were quite keen to find some more. Although the weather has changed from summer heat to muggy drizzle, we’ve made it out a couple of evenings this week for a wander along the tow path.

It’s been magical – there will be a glimpse of one bat skimming along the river near the bank or zooming over your head, and then suddenly they’ll be everywhere – chasing each other in circles, divebombing the river or flitting in and out of the trees. We’ve found that the bridges are popular bat haunts, and we’ve stood for ages on the towpath by the road bridge watching them zip around on eye level with us catching insects. They’re so batty they look like toy bats – the sort of bat shapes that Laszlo turns into in What We Do In The Shadows or Count Dracula in Hotel Transylvania. The battiest bats, in fact.

Bonus points have been scored for the kingfishers catching a last few snacks before heading off into their holes for the night, an indignant heron who took off from the path in front of us, a muntjac deer watching us from the other side of the river before disappearing into the crop growing behind it. There’s a coypu couple who swim among the waterlilies near the bridge, chuntering away to themselves as they potter around doing whatever it is coypu do. The owls start muttering to each other shortly after the bats come out.

No sign of the hen harrier or the short-toed snake eagle so far, but there’s a week to go. The two cockerels who live on the same lane have been much in evidence, shouting at random times throughout the day, and the cherry tree outside Dad’s office window has been alive with long-tailed tits while I’ve been shortlisting job applications over three days this week. It’s great that so many people want to work with us but by Thursday afternoon my eyes were crossed and I was thoroughly fed up with AI generated introductory paragraphs. Still, I’m looking forward to meeting the interviewees.

Things making me happy this week

Not having to think about what to feed people for dinner
French bread and patisserie, especially my favourite religieuses
Time to do some fiddly crochet in the sunshine – these peas in pods are crocheted with perle thread and a 1mm hook. I’ve made some bigger ones as well, with friendly looking peas that pop out of their pods.
French supermarkets and their fruit and veg sections

Various family members are arriving today and it’ll be lovely to see them, and hopefully over the next week we’ll see more exciting wildlife (that we aren’t related to). I’m assuming my Things and my Beloved a) have noticed I’ve gone and b) are missing me at least a bit. Two of them have texted me with demands for money, so business as usual there.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading

The Book of Doors/The Society of Unknowable Objects – Gareth Brown

Lies Sleeping/The Hanging Tree – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

Miss Percy’s Definitive Guide to the Restoration of Dragons – Quenby Olson

284: getting the hang of Thursday

Thursday was GCSE results today for Thing 2 – we were at school for 8am and then went straight to her chosen college to enrol. Jill brought me coffee in the queue, as she works there, and when the doors opened we got her signed up on the Culinary Arts course and kitted out with chef’s whites, her very own apron and oven cloth, and a pair of extremely no-nonsense steel-toe-capped kitchen shoes. I can’t decide whether she looks grown up or dressed up, but I’m extremely relieved that she got the grades she needed and onto the course she wanted. Apparently there is a shortage of patisserie chefs, so I have heroically volunteered as a taste tester should she go down that route.

Thursday afternoon had more drama – I’ve been feeding Ziggy and the Piggies for the last ten days or so* (next door’s mighty hunter cat and guinea pigs, not a Bowie tribute band) and while chatting to the other neighbour she mentioned that she thought Ziggy had caught a magpie but not killed it, as it was sitting on their lawn. Off I went with Doctor Doolittle (aka my Beloved) in tow to see if the ‘pie could be saved. Its wings were working as it kept flapping away from us, but its legs were dragging. We couldn’t see any cat damage, and Ziggy wasn’t around, so after some manoeuvring Dr D managed to get it into a cardboard box and we covered it with a wire frame to prevent cat attack. In between adding bits to my learning strategy I tried contacting the local wildlife rescues in the hope they’d come and help but they said that if the legs were damaged it couldn’t be rehabbed. I phoned the vet and took Mr Magpie (no idea where his wife and/or children were, though obviously I asked as it’s only polite) round to them. I suspect they would have had to put him to sleep, as the new receptionist didn’t look very hopeful, but at least he was safe from cats.

He wasn’t a fledgeling as all his beautiful feathers were in. We have experience with fledgelings, as we once rescued a baby woodpigeon who’d fallen out of the nest and kept him in a box on the trampoline for a couple of weeks while his anxious parents flew down and fed him. I don’t know whether he was a single chick who was just too fat for them to get back off the ground or if he just went too early. Eventually the rest of his feathers grew in and he fledged properly over a couple of days and headed off. We also used to have a collared dove pair who nested in the Christmas tree where the treehouse was and we always enjoyed watching their nestlings hop around on the railings. We’re lucky enough to have a lot of mature trees around the garden, and usually have robins, blue tits (who treat the trampoline net as a climbing frame), blackbird, woodpigeon and magpie families raising chicks every year. There’s a fierce wren who chased Ziggy off, much to his surprise and embarrasment, and a poser of a bullfinch who sits on a tree stump and shows off. The odd sparrowhawk has been known to rest on the edge of the sunroom roof, and the roof pigeons like to sit on the glass roof and wind up the cats.

There’s a gang of teen corvids – a couple of jackdaws, a rook and a magpie – who terrorise the neighbourhood feeders and hang out on roofs cawing, and sometimes we get visits from the village peacocks on a wander. I think they have extended their territory into the woods behind the house as they were regularly waking me up at 4am earlier in the summer despite sleeping in Loop earplugs. Colin the pheasant – named by our builders, who reckoned he strutted about like one of their lads – used to be a regular visitor and was tame enough to hand feed monkey nuts to. We haven’t had a pheasant for a while but we have had badger cubs in the garden again this year, and a fox investigating the Blink camera. I like to sit out and work in the garden and listen to the different songs – the BirdNet app is great for identifying all the different species.

*Ziggy self-catered this morning, however, choosing to picnic on something in our garden. This is fine, as last time I was in charge of him he was leaving me decapitated meeces in the mornings.

Making me happy this week…

This week was vastly improved by the existence of Wednesday which was bracketed by early morning coffee with Amanda and after work (nonalcoholic)* cocktails with Rhiannon. Epping continues to disappoint, as did the High Court interim injunction this week which is bound to be seen as a precedent for all sorts of other councils to take umbrage at the Home Office’s flagrant disregard for change of use applications and so on. Of course this meant there was shouting and celebrating outside the Bell, where the residents are already too scared to leave the building. The ‘decorators’ have been active in our village again, which I hope doesn’t mean they’re going to start terrorising the families in the Phoenix. I am a cynic, so I suspect the lack of public transport and criminal opportunities other than the farm shop and soft play next door might put the hoi polloi off visiting, unless they fancy some expensive sausages and some cake.

Anyway, Rhiannon and I tried a new food hall type place near St Paul’s Station, where I had a ‘Light & Stormy‘ which was remarkably convincing. It had a herbal elixir (an excellent word) instead of dark rum apparently it contains trendy mushrooms. Whatever- I liked it and if it wasn’t just as expensive as rum I might get fonder of it. We didn’t eat although there was a good range of food options. We had agreed ahead of time that we’d spend exactly ten minutes having a rant, although we did add two minutes for AOB (well, expressing our disbelief at members of the local council). We had a timer and everything, and then we had a lovely couple of hours chatting about everything else.

*apart from the tequila slammer that the nice man gave us in exchange for leaving a review.

A solo trip to Harlow where I had a holiday mani/pedi so I have pretty nails – the colour is Thai Chilli Red which isn’t too red or too orange. It wasn’t my first choice but they’d run out of that – red with a burst of gold – and I like it a lot.
Not Amazon, who have annoyed me this week by failing to deliver a parcel three days this week as they were unable to find my front door. Suggesting they got out of the van and walked up the drive was not helpful.

This week I will be working from France, and appreciating not having to think about feeding people or public transport. I shall mostly be shortlisting…

Same time next week, people!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Furthest Station/The Hanging Tree – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

The Postman’s Path – Alan Cleaver. meh. Took back to library without finishing as it was disappointing. If ever a book needed Illustration it was this one. He kept going on about sketching and doing walks but there were no sketches shon or even a map. Great premise, poorly executed despite good reviews.

Midnight & Blue – Ian Rankin

The Book of Doors – Gareth Brown

283: Choose kindness. Choose love. Choose human.

I’m putting my hands up here and confessing to struggling a bit right now, so this week’s post might be a lot shorter than usual. Essex – well, the small bit of it I live in and travel through several times a week – is still being used as a excuse for a barrage of racist rhetoric and as a showcase for a vast collection of flags on lamp-posts and random bits of street furniture.

I wrote a lengthy post last Sunday on my Instagram feed, showing some of the flags – that have since been taken down but replaced within hours by people driving slogan-ridden Land Rovers and sporting balaclavas. They presumably claim to be proud Englishmen but aren’t proud enough to show their faces as they clamber up the CCTV poles, belisha beacons and lampposts of Epping and North Weald. It also had images of the steel fences on Bell Common that are used to make sure the protests don’t block the road and to keep the two factions apart. It’s telling that since these measures were put in place the more violent elements of the protests have faded: perhaps being in a contained area and unable to run at police or throw smoke bombs is less appealing when you’re more easily identifiable. Who knows?

The Insta post was written mostly in my head as I stomped through the Forest in a loop from Copped Hall. I couldn’t work out why I was so upset by the flags – I mean, I used to go out with a rabid Cockney who believed the Queen Mother should have been sainted and that St George was a born Englishman (and that the Anglo-Saxons came from Anglesey, but that’s another story). I’ve lived in England since 1997 and from 1991-1994 when I was at uni. My first date was in England – Coleford was the closest cinema to us. My kids are English, apparently. The flags themselves are not the problem.

It came to me in the end that it was because for the first time in the 28 years I’ve lived here I felt unwelcome. The people putting these flags up – and those saying how lovely they look, and why don’t they leave them up till VJ Day, and shouting down anyone who disagrees and abusing anyone who takes them down, and taking scissors out with them to cut down any counters to the flags – are actively using these flags to intimidate. They don’t even care whether they’ve hung them the right way up. And, as I said, they’re too cowardly to show their faces while they do it. There’s also the usual whinges that you’re not allowed to fly the flags in this country, lefties, woke, no one makes the Welsh take their flags down, two-tier policing, blah blah blah. When someone points out that they are perfectly entitled to fly whatever flags they like on their own property they point out that they’re taxpayers and they pay council tax so they pay for the lampposts…. well, I bet they can’t produce the paperwork to prove it. The vitriol and badly-spelled abuse is ongoing – reasoned arguments and statistics fall on deaf ears.

The council continues to double down on their claims that it’s the asylum seekers who are to blame for community unrest, and not the people descending on the town to spew hatred. They went to the High Court for an injunction this week claiming this – never mind that in the seven years the hotel has been in use only three arrests have been shouted about, yet 18 arrests have been made among the protestors since they started a month ago.

I can’t seem to shake my disappointment in my local town and in some people I know, and it’s affecting me quite badly. I need a break.

(And I’m even more glad I chose Choose Love as the charity I’m fundraising for this year – https://donate.chooselove.org/supporters/raising-money-for-choose-love/1472/)

Things that weren’t so bad this week

A gorgeous cooling-off evening swim on Tuesday with Jill, Sue and Rachel

My clever Thing 1 getting a distinction in her T-levels this week. We’re so very proud of her, as it hasn’t been an easy couple of years. Her tutors from college have been very supportive, too.

My new t-shirt

Making rainbow toadstool tops for this year’s fairy houses

Next week I will be coming to you live from the Eurotunnel!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Midnight & Blue – Ian Rankin

Talk to the Tail – Tom Cox

Foxglove Summer/The Furthest Station- Ben Aaronovitch (Audible)

The Vanderbeekers of 141st St – Karina Yan Glaser

The Saturday Night Sauvignon Sisterhood – Gill Sims

282: smug as a bug in a rug

Press your back button now if part of your summer holiday planning still involves the annual childcare juggle. I’m about to be unbearably smug.

My Horde are now 14, 16 and 19 and while the teenage years come with their own set of challenges (their hormones coming in while mine are going out, romance dramas, friend group angst, the constant growing out of shoes and trousers, to name but a few) those challenges no longer include having to trade off annual leave, swapping childcare with friends or considering packing them off to boarding school and leaving the country till they’re 18. I read all the Chalet School books, I know it’s all kaffe und kuchen every day and midnight feasts and adventures up mountains. They’d have been FINE. Probably.

While we’ve always been amazingly lucky with the various childminders and big sisters who have looked after them over the years, it’s still flipping excellent not to have to worry about it every year.

The flipside is never knowing quite how many teens will be scattered about the house and garden when I get in or who will be around for dinner. If they’re here they get fed and I assume that works when they’re at other people’s houses too. We’ve always operated open door parenting, on the principle that if we’re there for the fun stuff they’ll know the door will still be open for the harder stuff too.

Several nights a week there’s at least two teenagers asleep in the living room, one in the cabin and right now there’s nine people ranging from the ages of two to 27 racing around the garden with water pistols. I’m sitting surrounded by chaos and the remains of an impromptu barbecue and – honestly – I love it. Especially the bit where they just get on with it with no input from me.

It also means I can go and work in France for a week and then have a week of peace before school chaos starts again; go for a drink with colleagues or friends after work; or be at my desk by 8am.

This is not to say parenting teens is a breeze: emotional crises arise, there are still dramas and we’ve got T-level results this week and GCSE results next week but, on balance, I think we’re doing OK.

I expect one day they’ll all leave home and I won’t know what to do with myself but till then I’ll keep embracing the chaos.

Other things making me happy this week:

A lovely day off on Friday with Miriam, with breakfast at the Mayfield Bakery and a very relaxing massage.
Finding Breton cidre at St John after work on Thursday, and remembering how nice it is to do these things.
A peaceful day at Shelley Church fête crocheting toadstools and chatting to nice people. The meerkat went home as a raffle prize with a very excited teenager.
Painting wooden toadstools with Things 1 & 2 in the garden

Finishing a new pig in a blanket as a test for this year’s Christmas offerings

Same time next week then!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Still Water/Nightwalking/The Sheep’s Tale – John Lewis-Stempel

Talk to the Tail – Tom Cox

Whispers Underground/Broken Home/Foxglove Summer – Ben Aaronovitch (Audible]

Midnight and Blue – Ian Rankin