395: post-apocalyptic life skills

This week there’s been a lot in the news about the need to be prepared for a whole range of potential emergencies like total power failure, bad actors, foreign hackers, anarchy, riots and so on. We’re all supposed to be stashing enough tinned and long life food, water, medicines, hygiene products and pet food to get us through a fortnight of national disaster, along with copies of important documents, cash, wind up torches, batteries, radios and a list of helpful phone numbers. A go-bag for fires, floods, zombie attacks. Blankets, sleeping bags, things to keep the kids amused when their phones run out or TikTok goes dark. Board games are an option, though presumably not Monopoly as that’s guaranteed to cause societal breakdown in your house as well as outside.

I can see some issues with the list above, as getting your doctor to provide you with a prescription for prepper purposes is quite unlikely. Other problems that have been put forward have been lack of space for storing the stash (stashing the store?) and also – probably more of an issue given the economy – the number of people living in food insecurity who can’t afford to eat day to day let alone to stockpile. People mutter about food banks filling that gap but I have a feeling that people will be buying those extra tins for their own families now rather than donating,

It’s something I’m considering doing although my main problem would be stashing enough food somewhere in the house to supply a growing 15 year old Thing 3, and also enough of the right sort of food to keep Thing 1 fed as she is and always has been a picky eater. Thing 2 will just mix stuff together according to her mood.

Tinned vegetables are recommended, corned beef, tuna and sardines, beans, soups, tinned chilli and bolognese, UHT milk, dried fruit and nuts. Pasta, rice, instant mash and porridge, chocolate. Huge jugs of water. The list of food above is more of a ‘won’t eat’ list for Thing 1, and that’s before she even gets onto the need for oat milk. Wes Streeting clearly does not have teenagers to contend with, and definitely not teens who can sniff out a stash of chocolate biscuits through several layers of lead insulation.

So assuming I can find somewhere to stash my disaster store (other than the salad drawer, which none of them look in and which is so far safe) it will probably have to include the following:

Approximately one million tins of Ravioli, which they all eat
Sausages and beans, in a can (a nod to my small nephew there)
Spaghetti and sausages (I don’t like beans)
Heinz Cream of Tomato soup in large quantities
Curry Pot Noodles (blame their father)
Tuna in spring water (the cats get the water)
Corned beef and tinned potatoes for hash, maybe with some dried onions
Dried fruit (mostly for me) and a locked stash of biscuits
A barista’s dream of oat, almond and semi skimmed milk
Coffee. Otherwise I’m not going to make it through this let alone the kids.
Wind up torches so my little wind up merchants can see to wind each other up
A big pile of books, also handy for insulation and building a fort to hide in
A large yarn stash and crochet hooks. For sanity and blankets, obviously. Crochet is a post apocalyptic life skill, you know.
The other stuff on the list, though the government have stopped short of actually publishing a list in case of precipitating the food shortages.

So there we are. Apparently this is SOP in European countries who are all much better prepared than we are for national disasters and so on. I wonder what makes the UK different? Answers on a postcard…

Things making me happy this week

Thing 2 turned 18!
Miranda being murdered by the Traitors. I never took to her.
Crocheting watching Widow’s Bay and Slow Horses while Storm Austen howls outside
Ben and Jerry’s Minter Wonderland season again!

That’s it from me…back to work tomorrow after ten days off. Can’t wait to open my inbox…

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading

Miss Wolcott’s Ghost – Louise Penny

The Charlie Method/The Graham Effect – Elle Kennedy

Cover photo from The Guardian

394: hair today, shame tomorrow

What would make young people go to a hairdresser and ask to be given a haircut more commonly seen on an alpaca at a petting zoo? You know the cut I mean: shaved sides the width of a razor above the ears and what can only be described as a curly perm on the top.

Also, what is it with older young men and a slightly longer version of the cut? This one is usually seen paired with a moustache, the hair recalling in some cases the late great but un-moustachioed Kevin Keegan in his hirsute heyday (hairday?) but in other cases the Harry Enfield scousers characters. Minus the moustache women are also sporting the style. Hipsters, students, people who should know better. Some people do carry it off better than others, of course, but others look like they’re about to offer to fix your washing machine in a cliched seventies porn offeeing. I truly believe that hairdressers should be more empowered to say ‘mate, really? You’ll regret it….’.

I’ve been at Swn Festival this weekend, and doing a lot of people watching in between bands, hence my musings on the current state of the nation’s coiffs. There’s not one but three universities in the city so there are a lot of students about the place – this part of the wider city music festival is like the Fringe (no pun intended) of other festivals. Indie, shoegaze, post-punk, angry young women, alt-country, ethereal rock, doom rock – it’s eclectic. Standouts for me have included Personal Trainer and Lauren Auder. As is always the way there are clashes so I didn’t get to see holybones. The festival is scattered across lots of small venues including churches, bars and clubs, and there’s no camping or portaloos involved.

Picking back up on the theme of this post, a good hairdresser is someone to be cultivated and especially so if they know you well enough to say ‘are you sure?’ I’ve had a few of these over the years, including my current one in the village I live in.

Like Newton Pulsifer in Good Omens (the book) the most I can hope for from a haircut is shorter hair. Style is frequently beyond me as despite having owned my hair for 53 years and counting I have never quite got the hang of it, possibly because it’s in a constant state of flux. As a small child it was white blonde and curly and then it went dark and dead straight, which sounds simple except that when I was about 14 it went curly again. Thing 2’s hair did the same. It was stable if not manageable until I started having kids and then it just got curlier.

But not consistently. That would be too easy. People who don’t have curly hair wish they did. People with curly hair frequently wish they didn’t, except on those rare days when it looks absolutely bloody amazing, bouncy and non-frizzy with the same sort of curls all over. The days when people say ‘wow, your hair looks amazing, you should wear it like that every day.’ Honey, I would love to.

Yesterday was one of those days, and all I’d done was put some leave-in conditioner in it, finger comb it and let it get on with it. Crucially, this is exactly the same thing I do every other day.

There are whole social media accounts and groups dedicated to the curly girl method, and they talk about their routines and sleeping in bonnets and on satin pillows, and the need for silicone free products. They talk about ‘scrunching out the crunch’ and applying product with ‘praying hands’ and how this gives them consistent results. The only praying I do is that when it’s finished drying I don’t look like Sideshow Bob, and some days the goddess of curly girls listens and sometimes she doesn’t. Either way, my hair is a mystery.

A customer in the pub I worked in used to say that he could tell what mood I was in by seeing what my hair was doing – it was an extension of my personality, according to him.

The only other guarantee with it is that as soon as I get to the stage where it desperately needs a cut – when I can’t do a thing with it and I resemble ‘an owl in an ivy bush’ as my mother says – I’ll book in with Jasmine at the salon and for the period between booking and cutting it will behave itself, look fabulous every day and generally make me feel like it is, indeed, worth it as the adverts say. I don’t know if there’s an equivalent of Murphy’s Law for hair but there ought to be.

Things making me happy this week

The season finale of Ted Lasso – we need a season five. I need to see Roy Kent in dad mode.
Catch up with cousin Sal over cocktails at The Bootlegger in Cardiff, people watching all the couples on first dates via a new app.
Reading all the graffiti in music venue toilets… my favourite being ‘ if I can walk here from Canton in heels u can do anything’
New crochet scarf project started on the bus to Wales. It took 50 minutes longer to get from Victoria to Cardiff on Wednesday than it did to go the 18 miles from Chancery Lane to home on Tuesday. Go figure.
A whole week off.

See you on the other side!

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Risk/The Play – Elle Kennedy

The Crow Moon – Sarah Painter

393: cautiously optimistic

There have definitely been moments over the last twenty (yeesh!) years when I have questioned many of my life choices, almost always involving the Horde. Coming into the living room and finding that Things 1&2 have rigged up a tightrope using their gloves on elastic and are about to start testing it. While applying yoghurt to Thing 2’s face after she decided (against all advice) to eat a chilli pepper straight off the plant and then rubbed her face. Thing 3’s willingness to eat anything as long as there was a dip with it.

Wednesday and Friday mornings, trying to wrangle all three of them into their school uniforms and out of the door with all the appropriate equipment to catch the unreliable bus. Thing 1’s ability to fall over from a standing start and lose things in a matter of seconds, Thing 2’s stubbornness and the need to pick my battles very carefully, and Thing 3’s obsession with stopping at Every. Single. Lamppost between school and nursery to say ‘That sign means lightning. If there is lightning you must not go in the garden because you will DIE.’

Moments when sentences I never thought I’d say came out of my mouth. Moments when keeping a straight face while issuing a telling off was the hardest thing in the world. Moments of remaining sensible and calm when what I really want to do is lose what’s left of my rag and go all medieval.

They’re 20, 18ish and 15 now and luckily those moments are further and further apart now: Thing 3’s worst habit is missing the bus in the mornings (though a couple of late detentions seem to have helped). Thing 1’s chaotic bedroom seems to have resolved itself and she and Thing 2 are sharing space nicely. I need to pick fewer battles with Thing 2 these days, which is much less stressful. Watching them become friends as well as siblings is a joy.

Just this week, for example, 2 & 3 had an evening making a lemon tart. 2 is helping 3 with his DT Food work. On a side note, should I worry that all three of them are planning on culinary careers? 1 is working in the local pub kitchen, 2 started a commis chef apprenticeship two weeks ago and 3 is planning on the same next year. Is it self-defence after years of my cooking? There was the moment when Thing 3 – as a three year old – sighed at the sound of the smoke alarm and toddled off to tell his dad that dinner was ready. Thing 1 peering over my shoulder at the fish fingers and asking ‘haven’t you burned them yet mummy?’ Thing 2 putting cake kits on her birthday list in case I got it wrong. And don’t get me started on Stroganoffgate, which was the last time I tried getting all of them to eat something new.

1 and 2 have had a sisterly shopping trip this week, and last weekend 2 and I had a movie day with popcorn, snacks and Hocus Pocus1 and 2 on the TV. I introduced her to the Buffy movie too. Thing 3 still comes and hugs me and asks about my day when I get home. They’ve taken their parents’ separation in their stride and are supportive of both of us, which is great. They’re adorable with their nephews and helpful around the house. They’re polite to adults and can be taken out in public (I credit their aunty with this – she followed through when she said ‘stop it or we’re leaving’).

I’m biased but I think they’re awesome….

Things making me happy this week

A sunny ramble in the woods last Sunday morning – heading into my favourite season
Adding handwarmers to the portable project
Impromptu pub evening with Miriam and Jill on Wednesday, and coffee and cake at the market on Saturday
Being discharged by the maxillofacial team at my post-op

That’s it from me – next week I’m in Wales at the Swn festival in Cardiff. Festivals with no camping or portaloos are the way to go.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Red Queen – Martha Grimes, who needs to stop now as this was barely readable.

The Deal/The Chase – Elle Kennedy

The Amberglow Candy Store – Hiyoko Kurisu

392: er…who?

I do not understand the appeal of reality TV. Or Gogglebox. Or the endless cycle on YouTube of watching people watch other people do stuff. Or pretty much anything with ‘celebrity’ in the title, often because after the first few series the definition of ‘celebrity’ has been stretched to include those YouTube people who watch other people do stuff. I’d say I’m a TV snob except for my fondness for You’ve Been Framed, especially when small children fall off stuff.

Come Dine With Me has its moments but it’s excruciatingly arch at times and occasionally punches down at participants. I did binge Celebrity MasterChef in Wales and even had a favourite contestant, but again the definition of celebrity was somewhat elastic. I was pleased that my favourite won, and I love Grace Dent in a sort of Gillian-Anderson-with- a-spoon way. I envy her wardrobe and her love of puddings. I liked the disasters on this as much as the spectacles.

This week I was persuaded to watch Celebrity Traitors, however – they had me at Michael Sheen, obviously, and added Richard E. Grant just to make sure. Grant off EastEnders is giving excellent comedy value with his paranoid antics – the TV tough guy who freaked out when tiny Bella Ramsay put a hat on him. Jerry Hall is so far pointless. Claudia’s fringe is, as always, excellent and the whole thing is camp as Christmas.

It’s passed me by until now, but as a single parent I have more control of the remote than in the past. The other parent only spends two evenings a week at home, so the power is with me. The Things are usually binging something, and sometimes we’ll watch a film together (Say Anything and Practical Magic this week) but often they’re doing their own stuff.

I’m not entirely sure I understand what’s going on, of course. Richard E. Grant was apparently not supposed to get overexcited and tell everyone he was a traitor and is now trying to convince everyone it was a cunning double bluff. I think Joe Lycett is onto him, however. It seems like a very elaborate way to do a murder mystery evening, really, but it’s fun doing it as a watchalong.

I’ve also been watching NFL. Yes, really.

If you catch me watching Celebrity Love Island or Married At First Sight though… shoot me.

Things making me happy this week

Thing 2 starting an apprenticeship. We commuted together on Saturday!
Crocheting a mad scarf
Dog sitting on Saturday night watching Shrinking
The prospect of a crochet Muppet Christmas Carol book. Yes, I preordered…
The latest episode of Ted Lasso which was sad but beautiful
Being part of the launch of this year’s Big Draw event…so much joy and colour!

Today I have nothing to do except laundry… and maybe a good nap.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

A Court of Frost and Starlight – Sarah J. Maas (Audible)

The Red Queen – Martha Grimes

389: this week I am mostly…

…struggling quite badly with the brain frog, which has meant that I’ve spent a lot of time in meetings apologising for the fact that I’ve totally forgotten what I was saying, usually mid-sentence. When you’re facilitating the meeting this can get quite embarrassing, but at least I was able to look at the agenda.

When I first embraced menopause and the blessed HRT patches my brain frog went into hibernation for a while, and all was right with the world. Well, I could finish whole sentences and that was nearly as good. But then it came back, along with all sorts of weird aches and pains and other fun symptoms – some of which go with menopause and others which don’t.

What they do go with, it turns out, is something called Sjogren’s Disease, and the investigations into my aches and pains led to my being diagnosed with this in May. For those of you tracking the Year From Hell (TM) May was after the break up but before the fracture, in my personal timeline.

Sjogren’s is the second most common autoimmune rheumatic disease, I’m told, but remains under recognised and under treated. It affects about 0.6% of adults in the UK, average age of 50, and 90% of us are women. I suspect there’s so much crossover in the symptoms list that sufferers assume – like me – that they’re just on the menopause merry go round and just up the HRT.

It took about two years from first seeing my GP to actual diagnosis, and the offer of treatment so far has been a steroid injection and medication which has the unfortunate side effect of irreversible blindness. I’ve declined that one, funnily enough, as some of my symptoms are still quite mild and I’m going to see how I get on and hope that they develop something else. Day to day things are usually OK as long as I’m sleeping ok – wherever that is, these days – but this week has been somewhat sleepless so the fatigue has kicked in, coupled with the steroid injection wearing off. This week I have no commutes as I’m working remotely so hopefully i can get some decent downtime.

It’s been a year, I tell you. And there’s still three months to go…

Things making me happy this week

The Seat at the Table festival on Saturday organised by the Community Partnerships Producers and refugees and migrants living in Islington. So much joy!
Twin cuddles from A&B on Friday
Thing 2 making almond danishes
The prospect of no Central Line for the week.
Making fluffy owl babies for story time

That’s it from me…same time next week when hopefully I’ll be less grumpy and less tired.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading

Nine-tailed/King Foretold – Jayci Lee

387: everyday…people

This has been a very peopley week, but in a good way: these days organising what ought to be a simple catch up takes quite some doing. Managing two in a week is pretty impressive.

I’ve been housesitting in Buckhurst Hill again this week which put me quite close to Debden and my friend Elaine, who I haven’t seen for what seems like forever. We met up after work and wandered over to a Turkish mezze restaurant in the Broadway, where we annoyed the staff by not looking at the menus for ages while we gabbled away merrily about life, books, friends, TV and more. Eventually we ordered and the kebabs were worth the wait, with a lovely fresh salad and lots of flatbread.

Waiting for the bus back was an experience – 9pm and there was a group of four kids zooming around on e-scooters, not being terribly pesky as they go, but quite cheeky. One of them informed me that the buses were done but if I wanted to hop on the back of his scooter he’d give me a lift home….he must have been all of 12. I declined and went for the train instead…I think it was the pelvic thrust he added as punctuation that really put me off.

Wednesday was an Amanda evening and this week we headed for Black Bear Burger in Exmouth Market, where we were disappointed by the lack of frozen margaritas but toughed our way through with normal ones. We’re good like that. The burgers were delicious, medium cooked and juicy with good cheese and pickle relish, and the Cajun fries were just spicy enough.

I also saw J, one of my friend’s daughters who has been having independent London adventures these holidays. She found her way to the Centre and explored the galleries.

Work was also quite busy: a catch up with someone at Kingston Uni about a project, a firing-on-all-cylinders meeting at all The Charterhouse about maps as illustration, and on Wednesday I read ‘Whatever Next?’ by Jill Murphy for the story session and we made cardboard box rockets. Families stayed for over an hour creating joyful chaos in the Studio with tape, stickers, chalk, pens, all sorts of bits I had hanging around. This week we’re reading Angelica Sprocket’s Pockets by Quentin Blake and making pockets.

Things making me happy this week

Early morning walk with Jill on Saturday, which we haven’t done for ages
Ted Lasso still – onto season 3 and I’m HORRIFIED by Nate’s betrayal.
The tributes to Dolly Parton and Tim Curry flooding my social media feeds (though of course I’m sad that they’ve died). Two people who made it OK to be unapologetically themselves, to be a little bit weird and out there, and to give people the courage to be the same.
Rain. Not much but it’s a start. Discovered that Miriam’s dog is scared of thunder when he burrowed under my arm at the first roll.
Catch up with Rhiannon when I went to retrieve my bags, entertained by R&O on top post-holiday form

This week we’re opening on Bank Holiday Monday for the first time and I’ll be there hoping it doesn’t rain. My plan is to arm the public with lots of chalk and turn all our concrete into a rainbow of colour. If it’s raining we’ll cause chaos inside instead.

Same time next week then, gang! I’ll be the one covered in chalk.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

Tipping the Velvet/Fingersmith – Sarah Waters

386: Doctor Feelgood prescribes…

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been catching up with the excellent Ted Lasso on Apple TV, starring the fabulous Hannah Waddingham and Jason Sudeikis. It’s about a football club and the people in it – an underdog comedy, really, as they’re battling relegation, a string of draws, a diverse team who aren’t playing nicely together.

The title character is a fish out of water, brought from America to make sure the club goes under in an act of revenge by Hannah Waddingham against her ex husband, played delightfully sleazily by the much missed Anthony Stewart Head. Of course it doesn’t work, despite the entire fanbase of the club loathing Lasso, who knows less than nothing about football. He’s a Ned Flanders type who really shouldn’t be as charming as he is. His sidekick is a taciturn man with a fatal attraction to a woman who is quite bonkers. Brett Goldstein growls as Roy Kent, team captain past his glory days but not quite able to give up the beautiful game.

Grrr. Roy Kent, Coach Beard, Ted Lasso (Apple TV)

It’s predictable – yes, they’ll be relegated but that’s OK, there’s always another season. There’s a divorce (Lasso is giving his wife 5000 miles of space). There’s a love story and a kitman with an eye for tactics. There’s a Christmas episode with snow. It’s filmed in Richmond so looks posh and pretty. Nothing unexpected but beautifully written and every single episode leaves you feeling hopeful and happy.

It’s exactly the TV we need right now. Watch it.

Things making me happy this week

Family Wednesdays at work. So much fun.
Deeney’s specialty toastie – the Macbeth – Haggis, cheese and onions. MMMM.
Pizza with the kids on Tuesday.
Thing 1 taking up crochet again.
Progress on my shawl.
An evening with some of my girlfriends on Friday.
A Saturday swim with Rachel.
The return of bearable temperatures and a few drops of water falling from the sky.

That’s it from me – a quiet week! No big thoughts….

What I’ve been reading:

A Court of Mist and Fury – Sarah J Maas (Audible)

The Secret Keeper – Kate Morton

A lot of absolute rubbish by various Americans. No thinking required.

385: the burning issue

There’s a lot of fires going on at the moment, thanks to a combination of the insanely hot, dry weather and – well – idiots. We were in a delightful pub up Caerphilly mountain on Friday night when the alerts started to roll in on people’s phones, shattering the relative quiet of happy diners with shrill beeps as the various networks rolled them out. Once we’d all worked out what was going on it became a shared moment of ‘oh ho, there we go again’. For the avoidance of doubt, ours arrived in Welsh and English at the same time.

This is what the live wildfire map of the area looks like at my time of writing:

That’s a lot of fires, gang. We’re just outside Caerphilly and the air is thick with a smoky haze generated by the many fires around us. Four teenage boys were arrested on suspicion of arson quite locally yesterday, accused of starting several fires in the area. The landscape is dry, dry, dry and – as the current prime minister (are we still on Andy Burnham? I forget…) would have it – is a tinderbox.

So, naturally, the news today was dominated by people complaining about the alerts – were they necessary? Why were they in Welsh first when not everyone speaks Welsh? Why didn’t they go as far as telling people about the danger of broken glass? (admittedly this one was an outlier on the outrage scale).

Why was this important enough to use the national alert system, despite the fact that it had been requested by the severely overworked emergency services, who are already being supplemented by the military in some areas because they are swamped. Houses have been burned. Swathes of the countryside have been razed. People have been made homeless. We are low on water, which is pretty damned important for putting the fires out.

Many people are already looking at the landscape and thinking how dry it is, and how barbecues might be a bit unwise. Others might think, as a result of the alert, that maybe they won’t have that teeny firework display tonight even if it is little Chardonnay’s first birthday because, you know, fire.

Others – like the absolute bloody idiot we were driving behind today – are still flicking their fag ends out of the truck window. Given their business phone number painted on the side was a mobile, I assume they received the alert last night like everyone else.

And that, my friends, is why we needed the warning.

Things making me happy this week:

Watching the eclipse with Miriam and the kids as mine weren’t interested. We are not very good with colanders.

97 people of various sizes attending our family activities on Wednesday despite the heat – this week we read Rod Campbell’s Dear Zoo and made up their own prospective pets to send back. The snail who was too slimy, the penguin who was too slippery and the hedgehog who was too spiky were my favourites. Wednesdays are my favourite days
Ricky Gervais’s After Life which I watched in full this week. I’m not a fan of the man but this is amazing.
Starting the shawl I decided I needed to make last week

We’re also looking forward to a couple of slightly cooler days, if not to the rain we so desperately need. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to shake my fist at the clouds and do a rain dance.

Kirsty x

What I’ve been reading:

The Modern Fairies – Clare Pollard

The Witch’s Stone – Kirsty Ferry

Curious Physiologies – Jay Neill

Made in Scotland – Billy Connolly

A Court of Wings and Ruin – Sarah J. Maas (Audible)

384: nomad

Regular readers (hellooo!) will recall that earlier this year I made the decision to end my relationship with the father of the Things. 22 years together meant that there’s a lot to untangle and that this would happen slowly – affordable accommodation is in short supply these days, and even more so outside London. We’re amicable, at least, and still working on the new world order with the kids as my priority. It’s not easy though.

I’m too old to consider a room in a shared house, and wherever I go there needs to be space for my small (ha!) people. I’m filling in time at the moment with a lot of housesitting while people are away on their holidays or staying up a mountain in Wales for a few days every month.

This does mean that some nights when I’m home I sleep on a blow up bed in the front room, or if A is away at his girlfriend’s I get the bed. For the last week I’ve been over at Miriam’s dog-sitting which is close enough to come home for dinner which has been good. A brought his girlfriend home for dinner a couple of evenings this week and while I was welcome to join them that just felt a bit…weird.

Since Covid I’ve been hot-desking at work as nowhere these days has enough space for people to have their ‘own’ desk like in the the old days, and I find this stressful enough – I like to be able to arrange my things in my own way, to leave my tasks for the next day ready to pick up when I get in, to have photos and things that make a space feel homey as – after all – we still spend a lot of time in our offices. There have been studies that show hot desking creates added stress at work – not knowing where you’ll be able to sit, loss of familiarity in the workplace, sensory overload if you’re near the window/door/radiator, lack of control of your environment. I usually get in very early to work so can choose where to sit, but right now my whole life feels like I’m hot-desking, with all that goes with it. Of course hotdesking can also help you get to know new people in your organisation – but we’re a tiny organisation and the people I don’t know well don’t use the offsite office.

In an ideal world I’d have a set working pattern of three consecutive office days and could work around that in terms of lodging somewhere more affordable but the sector I’m in doesn’t really lend itself to that – I do work the odd weekend and love interacting with the public on those days. So, the solution isn’t immediate but I’m working on it…until then I’ll just make like the Littlest Hobo….

Things making me happy this week:

Reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar and making wiggly caterpillars in the Little Owls session this week
Dinner with Amanda at Flat Iron on Wednesday, followed by a walk round Granary Square as we ate our ice creams
Random sunflower in the borage field

Catch-up with Miriam and Roy on their return from Scotland, including reducing their smaller daughter to hysteria with our rendition of Garth doing his Foxy Lady dance
Stacking up all the mini guinea pigs. It’s the little things…I think I want to make a shawl now though
International Cat Day – insta filled with cats

What I’ve been reading:

The Rainshadow Orphans – Naomi Ishiguro

The Woman in the Seal Skin – Lauren Keegan

A Court of Mist and Fury/A Court of Wings and Ruin – Sarah J. Maas (Audible)

383: weather continues…

…hot. Weather continues hot, with all that entails: men thinking it’s appropriate to go shirtless on the Underground, for example. For the avoidance of doubt, it isn’t, and no one wants to see those tattoos. The annual competition for the hottest underground line. Co-ops all over the country decorated with ‘this fridge is broken’ signs. Airconditioning units sold out. Dust and pollution replacing pollen in the noses of everyone in the city. The daily checking of BBC Weather (other apps are available) chasing the rain which is always just a few more days away. Online articles with top tips on how to beat the heat, at varying costs depending on which paper is currently clickbaiting you.

So, in the spirit of the season, here are my top tips for not going completely mad in the ongoing heatwave:

Lucozade Ice Kick on the train to hydrate. Two for £3 in the co-op at Farringdon (their fridges are working) bought just before you get on the train
Keep a stash of water bottles in your freezer. Not to drink, but to wrap in tea towels and take to bed at night.
Calippos. At least one a day, orange for preference but strawberry is nice too.
Carry an old fashioned fan and while away your horrible journey imagining you’re in Bridgerton. These are apparently very big on the fashion show front rows at the moment. This may be the only time I’ve been ahead of the trend, as I’ve had them in my handbag for years
Water sprays and an electric fan at night. Spray yourself, not the fan. This is important.
Consider alternative routes home if the tube is rammed. Think of it as an adventure. The overground lines are airconditioned.
Think seriously about moving to a polar region.
Cool showers before bed, but not cold.
Soak a tea towel in cold water and drape it round your neck (or over your entire body, but you’d need a bigger towel) and lie in a dark room. Science, apparently. Evaporation. Whatever.
Try not to touch a single other person with any part of your body.
Glare intensely at anyone who suggests holding meetings outside.
Listen to summer music and put ice in everything

Good luck!

Things making me happy this week

Crocheting ridiculous things – floppy cats and guinea pigs in varying sizes. Chenille yarn is so squishy.

Finally getting to deliver the Little Owls storytime at work – The Tiger Who Came to Tea this week – and planning next week’s activity
Walking through the fields with a very well-behaved Dobby, who didn’t bark at anything for a change
Not the local bus services
A solo mooch round Brentwood on Monday, trawling the charity shops
Helping Thing 2 apply for apprenticeships
Rewatching The Commitments and introducing Thing 2 to this gem, after the sad loss of Glen Hansard this week (and Sam Neill and Bill Oddie in July as well – enough, 2026, enough!). Go and watch Once if you haven’t seen it again…

What I’ve been reading

Everything Will Swallow You – Tom Cox

The Rainshadow Orphans – Naomi Ishiguro

The Woman in the Seal Skin – Lauren Keegan

A Court of Mist and Fury – Sarah J. Maas (Audible)