ho ho ho

I wouldn't want to have a strange and unusual fear of snowmen in central London this year!!!

the turning of the leaves

After walking back from Kew Gardens last week I thought about all the leaves that I've swept, raked and trodden on in my lifetime. I'm sure that mum and dad can have a laugh as I'm certain I've raked and swept more since I left home!- I suppose it's like washing the dishes- from the ages of birth through to 19 I developed a tummy ache or had a 'date' immediately after dinner when the dishes needed to be done. Once I was in the real world I found out that if I didn't wash them no one would. Kinda like looking after the lawn, the hoovering and putting petrol in the car. I read that there was a couple in America who had a pre-nup that stated that the car would never be below a half tank...I'm not sure that warrants a divorce but it would be handy to have it written down somewhere!

Anyways, leaves.

I love the smell of autumn although perhaps not the rain, cold nights, cold mornings, cold days and cold feet that accompanies the season. Having been a firm lover of snow (a pre-requisite for being Canadian) all of my life- well, since tasting the many delights of Europe in the summer months I have since developed into one of those Canadians who hiatus to the southern states and Mexico in the winter. I am dreading the snow- even if we don't get any. I am counting the months to whatever summer we may have...but I am still enjoying the piles of leaves on the green beside us!

...roses are forever...

I found this at the Polish Refuge charity shop on the weekend and I love it. I need to work on my photographic skills...and perhaps give it an iron!- but I was too excited to bother with those silly things today!

the one the cat got

how hilarious is this?!

I guess if it was my turkey I wouldn't be laughing... but it wasn't so I can!

Happy...

...Thanksgiving if you're in Canada (or pining for those autumnal smells of Hallowe'en in Canada...)!!! I am thankful everyday. For family and friends. For finding new charity shops filled with linen, lace and fabric! I am thankful for my health and my feet- that take me everywhere I want to go. Even the gym. Even on Mondays! I am thankful for pens and paper to write to the people I am thankful for- for all the kind and wonderful things they are and do. I am thankful that I am loved and that I have the capacity to love. That I have friends who care as much for me as I do for them and I am thankful that I can still find it in myself to let go and stay later than 8:30pm for more than one drink at a French pub on a Friday night in the city- and then stay out to dance afterwards! Woo hoo!



Can't say I even remembered it was Thanksgiving this past weekend- 'till I overheard someone's idle chat of being homesick while I was waiting at the meat counter at Waitrose on Saturday night. Who knew there were other (displaced) Canadians in Richmond?!

well, hope the turkey was cooked, everyone was stuffed and the leaves are raking themselves...

If you knew me in the 90's you knew this jersey

Remember the 1990's?!
Browsing through the £1 rack at my favourite charity shop a few weeks ago I came across something that took me back almost 20 years...how I loved this jersey then...so of course I bought it now!!!

After lovingly washing it (well, I put it in the machine on the handwash cycle with Woolite) I took a photo of it, carefully folded it, took a photo and it's now at the back of my wardrobe- possibly never to be seen again in this lifetime. Isn't it funny how the strangest things trigger the biggest memories? I've had flashbacks for weeks now- brought on by sheep's fur!

feathers from Snez

I thought I'd put this on but it turns out I haven't. What a cool and thoughtful gift- the very best kind!

autumn

You know summer is over when you start seeing...


The days are getting shorter, darker and cooler...did we actually have summer?

the etiquette of snoring on the tube

Okay. Have just returned from town and sat across from a fat man snoring for about 15 minutes. Let's go though snoring before I get into any more detail:

Soft snoring: when, on occasion, a woman does snore, it is usually a soft snore. This snore is very quiet, almost imperceivable and happens most often with babies. It's usually cute and does not warrant a poke to wake the offender up as they most often stop when they move or (are gently) moved.

Then there is a soft/wake up snore- when you fall asleep in a public place / meeting / conference / training session and your snore is loud enough to wake you up- if you look closely you will see your neighbour smirking even if they don't know you and especially if they do. The last time this happened to me I was on a fire safety training course and the man presenting (droning on) was so incredibly boring I kept nodding off despite being quite excited about a day out of the office! I finally had to excuse myself to get a drink, walk about the streets for 15 minutes and return when I saw him leave the building!

Snoring: the offender doesn't usually stop when they flip to the other side of their body and the snoring continues throughout the night but it's not really a good excuse to move to another room...this noise can take some getting used to but one does develop an immunity to it after half a lifetime of sleeping next to it.

Spouse/Parent snore: okay, this is almost the worst there is. Throwing things at the offender doesn't work. Waking them and/or threatening them doesn't work. Changing rooms doesn't work (you have to move to the house next door to rid yourself or the noise). The only thing that works when this kind of snoring starts is turning on some other noise to block the sound out- a tv or radio does the trick for me- and has been known to stop the snoring in its tracks- just don't turn it off as the snoring will return!

So. Today on the tube there was a fat man snoring. He was doing a Spouse snore and he wasn't even my husband; it was loud, it was long and it didn't stop for love nor money. Everyone in the carriage was laughing- some giggling, some smirking; I had a smirk followed by a giggle followed by a full on loud laugh- i just couldn't contain myself. And he snored on. He woke 2 stops from the end but quickly fell asleep again and the snoring resumed. I snuck a look at the horrified man who sat beside him and laughed out loud again.

I was a bit embarrassed - but I couldn't stop laughing. What does one do in these situations in London? It was obvious I was laughing at him snoring and I would hasten a guess that my laughing sent the message to others that it's okay to laugh out loud...but is it? The carriage was full, probably about 50 people in all- and we shared a laugh. Who says Londoners aren't friendly?! Tube etiquette went right out the window today.

a true Londoner?

I've been thinking lately about what makes 'imports to London' true Londoners. I'm sure that true true Londoners would argue that they are the only true Londoners but what if they've never left their square mile? or what if they've left their square mile just once- only to never leave it again?

Eating a curry in Brick Lane does not a true Londoner make. Nor does having a postcode within the M25. Or shopping at Brent Cross.

I think I've endured well these last 6 years. I shop regularly at Liberty (albeit only for the fabric, plates and mostly during the sale!), I don't call the tube lines by their colours (anymore), I have a regular waxer, hairdresser (although she's not in London!) and local Indian restaurant- where I am known as ‘Ms Tracy’ and have special things made for me. I pay Richmond’s exorbitant council tax. I attend quarterly neighbourhood meetings and I vote in the local elections. I know how to get to Waterstone’s via the Cricketeer and the Sun.

I have locked in to my energy supplier to ward off the forecasted 30% increase. All of my appliances and anything that requires a plug have UK sockets and I have developed my own accent of mixed nationalities over the years away from my homeland.

I still call Canada 'home'- but I call New Zealand 'home' as well, and of course there is 'home' where I sleep every night. It gets a bit confusing for others, I am aware, but it's all home to me. London is one of those places- home.

So aside from the fact that I rarely go shopping in the city (and usually take a map with me when I do go) I do know where things are, I know how to plan a trip to town and I know where not to buy stuff...and where bargains can be found or made.

I digress. This has become more about living in the UK than being a Londoner.

Although I don't have a car of my own anymore (thanks to the lovely Polish painter and his son who hit me), I do have access to a car when I want (or need) one- because I belong to a car club. That's pretty urban isn't it? You book it, you use it, you don't worry about the rest. Petrol magically appears...and so do the dents in the door and the scratches on the boot...but after a while those magically disappear. All the glory of using the car, none of the worry about owning a car.

I've been on the London open-topped bus tours more times than I can now count- so I know where the tourist attractions are, where to take visitors, where to sit and when to look. Most true Londoners wouldn't know half the cool stuff that I know about their city- and I love that!

I can (almost) tell time by the flight of airplanes overhead. Lots and it’s day, not lots and it’s night.

I still don’t know how to appreciate a good pint of ale (I recently took a pint back to the bartender because it was ‘flat and warm’ and he said ‘it’s supposed to be’ and I ended up giving the pint to James- who was pretty pleased- and went back for a cider- at least it was cold and bubbly!) so yuck. But not all Londoners drink ale. And I don’t like mushy peas, cod (wormy) with my fish & chips- or any of the crappy shows on the telly that seem to be programmed into the brains of my London friends (sorry girls)- but mostly they are not from London either so maybe it’s just a national love of extremely bad UK-made tv shows that I have not acquired. And I don’t wish to either. I once watched a whole 30 minutes of Coronation Street, Eastenders and Holby City before I vowed to never EVER watch any of them again. I’m sure there’s one other in the mix but I can’t remember it- that’s how bad it was.

So. I don’t chat with strangers on the bus or the tube (they never chat back unless they are foreign or old) and I don’t make eye contact when I’m walking down the street anymore- Londoners don’t do that. I give up my seat to those who need it more than I do- and I put my rubbish into a bin- or hold onto it until I find one- which sometimes isn’t till I get home. I have the utmost respect for bus drivers and always say ‘thank you’ when I get on and get off the bus- because they get me where I need to be safely (mostly) and timely (sometimes).

So there it is. I think I’ve passed the test but maybe I’ve just acclimatised.

favourite things

I have this brush that my grandma gave me...I had to ask for it, of course, as an old manky brush isn't something that would be thought about when it comes time to inheritances...

I have memories from when I was a child that seem like yesterday- corn on the cob eaten in the fields after combining and the smell of oil on papa's skin. My family come from a long line of farmers- wheat, cows, the obligatory chickens and then peas, rapeseed and buffalo.

My mama would cook for a dozen then take the hot food out to the field for the men to eat on their break from seeding, combining or doing whatever it is that farmers do till late in the evening. I still love the blue jug with spots on it that held the best iced tea and lemonade in the world (which I think is still in her cupboard). I can still taste the field dust. There is always dust on the prairie. It gets into your ears, your skin, your mouth and your eyes and there's nothing to do but blink and spit and know that you can have a bath when you get home.

I remember my mama brushing her long hair out at night, hair that during the day was in a french roll and never during daylight did we see it loose. I remember her rolling it up in curlers and pincurls for bed...and bobbypins in her mouth. I remember having knots in my hair after playing outside all day- with thin fine hair knots are no laughing matter! Out would come mama's magical brush and the knots wouldn't seem so bad and my hair always felt smooth as silk afterwards. Oh, I loved that brush.

The farming continues now with one of my uncles but the days of mama's long hair are long gone- she cut it years ago and has no need for pincurls or french rolls, bobby pins or curlers anymore. So I asked for the brush. She had kept it- even though she had no use for it- and it now resides in my bedroom.

I don't think it's the same brush she used on my hair as a child- but it's still got that old magic. Knots are freed, hair is smooth and all is right in my world of fine thin hair for another day.

confessions

okay, so I have a few things to get off my chest which I'm sure some of you know and some of you suspect- but some of you don't know at all, haven't suspected and will be quite surprised by.

I love to iron. This morning I got up, turned the iron on and got out all the saved wrinkled shirts, napkins and skirts and started. What a buzz! and how sad. I must say, however, that I draw the line at towels, underwear and socks of any sort.

I love to organise. I love to sort. Everything has to have a place and f it has no place it is relegated to the laundry room until I have a place for it. I sort my clothing by season, my knickers and fabric by colour and my shoes by 'ouch factor' (thankfully I have only one pair in the worst category). This is probably a result of having a mother who creates 'nests' in every room she occupies and, like a rat, those nests can stay the same for years. I once found a baby tooth of mine at the bottom of one- and we'd even moved several times in my youth!

I am somewhat addicted to the paper shredder. Pretty much anything I can shred I do these days- which wreaks havoc on recycling days as the clear bags I put the shredded paper into always seem to burst open as the guys toss it into the truck- I must confess that I don't go and pick all the shredded paper up after this happens- I figure it's probably good fertiliser for the Green.

I love to shop at charity shops. Again, this is an off-shoot from my youth when mum would drag me- on Saturday mornings- all over hell and creation to garage sales. I would slouch down in the car pretending that I was roller-skating. There would always be something I saw through the car window that I liked, and I would inevitably get mum to go and get it for me. This obsession with charity shops started after I left school and was free to wear the neighbour’s tops without repercussions. Although I would never have worn anything from any of our neighbours- ew. Wherever I have lived I have regular ‘good’ shops that I frequent and share the insider knowledge with only my closest friends. This can be hazardous though, as they can scoop something you actually spotted first but got sidetracked on the way through the vintage fabric…I tend to charity shop on my own these days- keeps my friendships healthy.

I sing out loud when I have my ipod on. This can be somewhat embarrassing at the gym. Or on the tube, on the beach or even in my own kitchen. I tend to do a little dance as well- again, I think this is a throwback to my youth- I can clearly remember ABBA, Olivia Newton-John and the BEEGEES on full blast while mum danced around the lounge cleaning- no, scrap cleaning- there were nests, remember?- I think she was just dancing and singing. I do it all the time and have no shame- especially when I am cooking, cleaning or ironing!

I have several collections that I cannot stop adding to. These include, but are no limited to: buttons, fabric, cookbooks (yes, I do use them!), plates, mercury ‘things’, pens, paper, notebooks, purses and bags of any description (almost), glass apothecary jars, vintage linens and suitcases. Some of these things are obvious, some are sealed in boxes and some are in daily or weekly use. I make no excuses for the purses and bags.

Okay, I need to continue with the ironing now.

a quick trip to civilisation...

although H would disagree...

Went to the Electric Cinema to see The Dark Knight this afternoon. Almost fell asleep in the comfy leather chairs- although I did manage to make myself stay awake as I'd paid a small ransom for the tickets! Anyways, as many of you will know, the cinema is in the heart of Notting Hill- which means Portobello Market on Saturdays...every shoppers dream- and H is no shopper...soooo we walked along the back roads and took the closest detours to avoid the throngs of tourists and fruit sellers (yellers?) - which meant we got to see all the lovely sights of the Notting Hill housing estates (read: crappy multi-level brick 70's builds with horrible mesh fencing and lots of locked gates, bikes with no wheels, old crapped out cars and dead vegetation).

I did manage to squeeze into a shop or two (while H waited outside of course) and we got to travel in style on the Hammersmith and City Line. Lots of funky smells, a man folding a pizza menu into an origami crane and a sweet little girl (who, on the 15 minute journey managed to consume a whole packet of starbursts - I bet she's still not sleeping either!)!

So I'm still undecided about the movie. I liked it, and unlike some people didn't fall asleep- although it was quite long and there was an intermission in the middle- just like in Maroochydore! H returned from using the facilities to proclaim that 'the Joker is here'- to which I replied 'Heath Ledger died months ago, fool' and he bet me £5 that the Joker was in fact out in the back of the cinema. Of course I got a bit excited as I thought maybe there was something special happening- silly me. It turned out to be this crazy woman with peroxided back-combed hair for miles, Tammy Faye-Baker make-up in a banana polyester pant suit from 1982...’hello, this is 1982 calling, I’d like my strides back now please’. I conceded that I had lost the bet. And I didn't get a photo- if I ever see her again I promise to do my sneakiest best!

convincing a man...

well, really, after all these years dealing with the opposite sex I am convinced that no one can talk a man into do something he doesn't want to do. no one. I have been trying to get H to take a weekend off and go somewhere hot but he's not convinced- either that or he just doesn't want to get on a plane, eat some nice food and surf for a weekend...I can't quite fathom that though!

He's telling me there's too much to do, too little time and not enough of him to do it. But what does that have to do with surfing?!

Hmm, what to do? Gamble and book tickets?- or maybe just book them for myself?!

drunken Sunday?

the best day.

on the little green catching rays...

all equipment and bikes available at the gym...

then on the Green with friends- I was going to say old and new- but that's not really true- mostly old- although Dylan (at 3 months) is relatively new and showing his obvious boredom by falling asleep!

Great to catch up with Mathew, Imo, Snez and Huw- I pretty much downed a whole bottle of Lindauer myself and now can't feel my forehead- a good thing on a Friday night, not such a good thing on a hot Sunday evening with the un-partiest man in the world demanding tea!

am off to do the laundry and all the good domestic stuff that I have been putting off in hopes that it would 'do itself'...damn the cleaner...or not.

a plan?

haven't made proper travel plans for ages, don't know where to start...but I do need to get to France for the 25th of August and I need to be back in London by the - oh! the 9th September!!! I thought it was the 2nd. Well, let's hope I can get my shit together cause I don't wanna be driving a smart car on holiday!...and I'm too old to hitch-hike. Plus I haven't used a backpack for years and I am somewhat accustomed to the Mercedes we had hired last time we were in France- although I think I might be riding solo on this trip- so I won't have (or need) any back-up plans. (sorry- this will require some explaining which I was hoping not to do- but here goes...last time we were in France Hamish backed into a huge concrete barrier- which was about 6 feet wide by 4 feet high...hence the 'back-up plan').

I'm wanting to get some Mediterranean sun before Clémence's wedding on the 30th August and if I'm still not working then why not? Sun anywhere is always a bonus- especially if it's somewhere that's not home!

Today was supposedly the hottest day of summer so far but it was only a humid 27°C. Not hot- just sweaty- thankfully I was only on the bus for a 'brief' 15 minutes to and from Imogen's house this morning!

Have a great rest of your weekend everyone. Hope it's hot like Portugal was...but I think only Portugal is hot like Portugal was...and remember that some sunscreen is better than none, and even if you've applied, apply every time you expose new skin...Katherine...!

mothers...some people do have em

okay, so mum was at a 'town reunion' in Saskatchewan last weekend and - well, it sounded like it was a great time. She caught up with her brothers, her mum and old friends -no, I don't mean 'old' friends, I mean friends from the past....but after hounding her for months to send me photos of the new deck, the newly refinished office and her beloved backyard, she sends me photos of gravestones and my uncles' asses. HUH?

been out with Im and Katherine causing a bit of a stir at the Swan in Chiswick... definitely did some shaking but the stirring didn't quite work...

love you mum, even though you haven't sent me the deck, the office and the rest...

kiwis abroad

Well, Jane and Jeff have arrived for their month-long adventure. Although I met them at the airport last Thursday I have been blessed with a summer cold since and did not make it to the pig roast on Saturday...I'm sure it was a mini beer fest as well!

I heard they bought a campervan and headed off to Wales on Monday. All I can say is 'have fun kids', and don't forget to stop in Newport and give the rugby boys a squeeze.

Happy birthday Kelli!

long time...

since I've seen you smile!

Phew, what an action packed few weeks it's been! We had Clem's hen 'do'- a pretty tame affair at Guanabara with samba lessons and many fruity mojitos and caipirinhas to pass the night away. If it weren't for the fancy-assed professional dancers I would have cut a proper rug myself...we didn't make her do anything stoopid- except for the cheesy flashing Bride-to-Be veil...and she only had that on half the time anyways. So, dress is sorted, new shoes have been packed and Clem was home to France on Friday. Hopefully the frenchies didn't make her do anything horrible for her French hen night...remains to be seen.


Katherine and I went for a much-anticipated weekend of sun in Albuferia (that's at the bottom of Portugal for you lot- who know who you are!!!) - it was the week of my birthday and I was feeling the need. Haven't had a weekend away with a girlfriend for YEARS. It was just the thing to refresh my being! We planned in April. Left home at 5am. We slept on the plane. Uncomfortably. Had a bit of uncertainty about how we were getting to our hotel then shared a cab with some orange girls from Manchester. We were into our beach clothes by 12:30 and on the beach by 1:30. What a great day. Nothing burnt! and a fun night of drinks and dancing. Met a gaggle of English boys and their dads on a family-oriented stag weekend. Tucked into our air conditioned beds by 3am.
Then.
Up and on the beach by 10am! After a day in the sun we were only a little burnt- my boobs, Katherine's butt- and off to dinner, vodka and more scary Portuguese cheesy men dancing. Am pleased to say we held our own and closed the bars down for a second night running. I was especially pleased as it meant that although I am 35 I am not too old to party properly! I thought I'd passed it. Plus I haven't had much in the way of partying of late being married to the most un-party man on the planet.
So.
During this week of adventures I had the most horrific ear infection ever. EVER. I can't remember the last time I had one, or ever if I've ever had one but this one took the cake, the bread and perhaps even the bed. I couldn't swallow or speak without having pain in my jaw. I couldn't sleep, eat or sit without pain in my jaw. I couldn't bend, walk or talk without pain in my jaw- which I'm sure was a relief for some, but not me. I would not recommend an inner ear infection to anyone- even if I had enemies I wouldn't recommend it. All this meant I was on a mushy diet for our weekend away- please note, I did not say 'liquid'...

So Katherine and I came back with the cheapest souvenir- a tan. Really nice and brown and I'm sure when we are 75 or 80 we will not regret the fact that we hired sun loungers for two days but will remember tales from Wales and the guy letting his girlfriend squeeze his zits while gazing lovingly and longingly a her- and then squeezing hers back! Why us? They picked, scratched and squeezed in front of us for a good hour! If they were closer I would've asked them to move. If they weren't English speaking I would've made sure they understood!!!! Honestly.

It feels like forever since I've updated this.

And- oh lord help me. I have reinstated my facebook account. Talk about the biggest timewaster in the entire world! I have stopped looking. I have reconnected. I have laughed and viewed photos of babies till I can't view any more photos of babies! All good though. Need to concentrate on real life now- and man, I will be quite busy next time I am back home!- 'home' being Kelowna in this instance...has been strange in a nice way to reconnect with old friends and flames.

days of summer remembered

...last Thursday...

laying on my back on the Little Green...looking up and seeing

...followed by...

and now
rain.

it's my party

so today I am 35. I had a pretty peaceful day. Until I moved to New Zealand I didn't know my birthday without sun. Since I moved to England I haven't known my birthday without rain. July is always hot, hot and dry in Kelowna and my birthday was always hot, hot and dry- well, dry as in no rain, no snow and nothing wet besides the sprinkler or the lake- and even that was by choice! Today in London it rained, it poured and although there was a minuscule peek of sun there was also a bit of thunder and lightning! Quite exciting for a July birthday!

...it was uneventful until I broke a £50 champagne glass (yes, the ones I got a week ago) with £60 worth of champagne in it...ho ho ho. Haim was pretty happy with that let me tell you! At least I didn't cut myself walking through the remnants to unplug the power cord that happened to be in the way! And Haim got the vacuum out and tidied up without too much fuss and (believe it or not!) no swearing. a miracle really. No limbs broken. No blood. Just another year on the tally board. One more chalked up.

I even got a small cake at the Glasshouse and I had prayed that the wait staff wouldn't sing Happy Birthday- they were quite respectful of that prayer and subduedly wished me well which was great. By that stage in the evening there weren't many people in the restaurant so that was even better.

Although the occasion did warrant a bottle of special champagne (see above) and a lovely lunch and dinner out there were no diamonds this year. A girl can only hope.

new bag for the (old) bag lady

do I have the best friends or what? A surprise birthday gift (the biggest and best ever!) from the girls made my Wednesday night- at Snez's birthday dinner!!! I got a new bag, played auntie trace for a few hours - shushed Dylan til he fell asleep on my shoulder (dead arm for an hour, pins and needles shortly followed- how do you mums do it?!) and caught up with the girls all at once! And since my birthday is on a wonky Monday this year and we all have much to do next week they gave me my gift early (nothing wrong with that I say!). Good ole' Im remembered that I loved this bag when it was first out last year and she dutifully fulfilled my wish. It's huge! Big enough to take on our weekend to Portugal (next weekend!!!) but then that might just not be big enough...will have to test it out though, especially after waiting all this time for it!

Speaking of playing auntie trace- wow, there must be something in the water at the moment. Births, due dates and prams abound in my life right now. Congratulations to all of you new mums and mums-to-be! My clock has stopped at noon a the moment...not feeling very clucky or nesty. Must be something to do with that dead arm. Or something like that! I'm happy to be auntie trace for a while- I can return Dylan with a poopy nappy and I know I can sleep till 10 if I really want to- or drink all that lovely champagne we've just acquired without feeling the least bit of guilt- monetary or otherwise- having NOT spent nappy money on it!!!

This week has been busy. Went to Kingston for a quick shopping trip on Wednesday and saw an OLD woman on the bus reading an article in a glossy magazine about the 5 best tips for making your orgasm last longer...and I truly mean she was reading the article! I was sitting across from her and trying not to laugh when the grumpy looking man behind her poked her at their stop. EW. But it goes to show doesn't it? Apparently it doesn't fall off if you're ugly or old!

errand day

after speaking to (my uncle) Trace on Sunday night, I am wondering why I even drive anymore. We both agreed that there are more ‘special’ people driving than ever and if we’re not behind them they are coming for us down the centre line. And really, how does that thin strip of white keep me safe?! Over here the roads are filled to breaking point with fools behind the wheels of mercedes, bmw’s and volvos. I had them all in a perfect line for about 40 miles yesterday, alternately speeding, swerving and signalling into oblivion and if all that viewing pleasure wasn’t enough, I spent the best part of the beautiful sunny early evening stuck behind another idiot who had tenderly placed his bmw into a lorry on the North Circular. Of course it was 5:30pm, the almost-rush hour home and all lanes were chocker. Luckily the streetcar I was in had air conditioning and a decent radio. I find that as long as I am cool and have music I can sit in traffic for hours and not be bothered…well, aside from the wasted time, the missed appointment and the extra cost for the car…anyways, when I finally did get home I managed to score a parking spot right outside our front step- despite the fact that the theatre was drawing quite a large elderly crowd! Bonus. If I’d been home earlier I probably wouldn’t have gotten that spot and I would still be dragging groceries across the Green. So I guess traffic is sometime a good thing. Despite the pollution. And the hours of wasted time- if I had a tape deck I could’ve listened to and practiced my French- and I suppose the cost of petrol. In fact, despite all the negative environmental and monetary costs, traffic is okay. It gives you a chance to think about your life-well I suppose if I wasn’t sitting in cool-air comfort and singing along to Robbie Williams I would’ve thought about my life. But I was singing to Robbie and laughing inwardly at the poor kids beside me in an ancient toyota with all the windows opened and looking like they were about to die of heat (and probably BO) stroke. But with age comes comfort.

So yesterday I did all the errands I have been postponing for the last few weeks. Huge black bin bags of plastic to recycling. Costco run to Watford for an institutional-sized box of washing powder, dishwasher tablets and nurofen. The organic shops along the way for the essentials, and a stock up of a few live herb plants to re-pot. Ikea for a door mat and a loss of sanity. Charity shop for a quick browse and a substantial drop-off. Oh yes.

Hamish wanted these crystal champagne glasses for ages, and he finally found them in town, so I dutifully spent almost all of Friday tracking down the wine shop that sold them as well as traipsing into Soho to a little-known wine shop (it's speciality is whisky) for a couple of bottles of the good stuff. Of course, these new glasses need a proper shelf space and I had none. Out comes a box and in go my special glasses, glasses and glasses. Now safely ensconced on the ensuing free shelf, his prized flutes are standing awaiting their dew…and a box full of glass bits is stored away, while another has already been unpacked and placed on the charity shop shelves. I figured it’s not too big of a sacrifice as most of the stuff I got rid of was from ikea and due to break at any time!!!

oh, and mum-I found my scissors.

things your mother told you.

When I was walking home from the gym today a huge wave of nostalgia overtook me and it was very strange.  In the middle of London with planes flying overhead every 45 seconds I had a sudden whiff of caragana.  For those of you that don't know what it is, it's commonly used for windbreaks on farms in Canada...and it stinks.  Really, badly smells.  Like dead rotting meat left out and then peed on. Yuck.  

So anyways, I discovered it alongside the entrance to the walkway that leads up to the front doors of the gym and why I haven't smelled it before today I'm not too sure.  Maybe because it was hot and sunny and I was open to the smell?...but it brought back memories of a polyester red dress that my grandma made me, my Papa's mustard yellow trousers and riding sidesaddle in the hot dusty combine when I was too big to be riding sidesaddle but no big enough to ride in it alone. Then a (huge, loud and very 2008) plane passed overhead and I was brought back to the cars and Chelsea tractors I was faced with as I dodged the A316 and all the part-time weekend warriors making their way home after trying their hand at a cycle along the outer reaches of Greater London...and then the weekly run to Tesco's.

Hamish and I went out to the Green or a bit of sun after lunch and oh man, it was a lovely day.

Dare I say summer is here- if only briefly?

I was also reminded as I was gazing at the sun...and feeling a bit of a burn...about my mum. things she's told me, gentle words of wisdom and of course he inevitable 'I told you so's'- but my mum doesn't ever say that, she always sympathises and listens and agrees and we end up talking for an hour about the baby robin that fell out of the tree, the illegal picking of cherries at midnight in the orchard across the road and a recipe for 'the best' tomato salsa.  Of course, I never write the recipe down but that's not the point of the conversation now, is it? I remembered today the first time I really 'sunbathed' and used baby oil.  I was so red it must've been quite the sight, but mum just got out the aloe vera gel and ran a cool bath.  Or the time I crashed her car after sneezing.  The car was a write off (of course my dad fixed it!!!) and she never said anything.  My dad silently fumed about his insurance premium for the next 15 years though!  Or when I traded that same car in for my Jeep.  They were away at the time- and mum just hopped in for a ride when they got home.  I think dad quietly liked it...but not after it sat in their front yard for three years when I decided to move to New Zealand!  It was a unique lawn ornament for sure.  Anyways, I know that in a week on my birthday, as she always does, mum will ring me describing (over the years in diminishing detail) about the hours of labour, the silent doggedness of child rearing as a single parent and the pain when your only child ventures out of the nest.  And how much further could I have gone- to New Zealand! and then LONDON! Arugh, ungrateful child!  Oh well, she's go no choice now, does she? Maybe this all makes up for the hideous white and multi-coloured polka dot polyester pants she made me wear, the time she took me to get my eyebrows waxed (and they never grew back) and- well, I can't think of an 'and'.  She's been pretty good with her passing on of tried and tested- although I do think my bum looks big in 'that'.

soppy, those bloody caraganas.