Holiday, Part 1: Cambridge Folk Festival.

I love live music of all kinds, but I have a special little place for folk. It somehow makes me react in a happy way, every time. Thats what its all about, surely. I studied folk as often as possible during my degree and A Level, when there was free rein to prepare your own projects, and even where there wasn't but the essay title could be interpreted towards it! I soon became obsessed with the collection of it, by classical composers, (Vaughan Williams and Bela Bartok are the main ones) and how these 'songs of the people' (a middle class observation if ever I heard one... but true enough) spoke for the land from which they came, and became integral to their physical work (think sailors and shanties, and spirituals in America). Fascinating, rich stuff.
Events and day tickets to folk festivals were one of the highlights of my holidays when I was little. My Uncle is an avid fan, and he always seemed to be just back from, or just off-to somewhere. I used to love the names: Chippenham, Cropredy, Sidmouth (I remember going to this one with him). His bedroom at my Grandparent's house was full of LPs and tapes, and he would get in trouble for playing it all too loudly. I loved the diversity, and the energy of it all, and I really liked the atmosphere to the gigs I went to. It was time, this year, to return to the scene!

You know the wonderful thing about folk lovers, is that they are friendly, and laid back, and smiley. One of the performers remarked in a Sky Arts interview that I saw, that this was possibly the only festival where the crowd maintained their manners enough to stay within the white lines. So that transfers to the kinda people you end up striking up a conversation with, or camping next to. All of the staff were lovely too, and the main site was fab- there was a main stage, and two secondary ones (one for local bands and workshops) and just a 5 minute walk from all the billed stuff was a beautiful huge pond, and in a smallish tent was a little intimate venue where you could feel part of amazing busking-type stuff that you'd never come across. I was called The Den, and it was a lovely teepee, complete with living room features on stage, and rugs and cushions on the floor.

The Den

 Stage 2- Fiddle Workshop. This was early on in the festival- most people 

didn't arrive till the weekend. None of the site was this empty again!

 The Spooky Men's Chorale. As bizarre as it their name, but quite entertaining.

And the program was brilliant. I watched, amazed, as new acts were announced on the website, having conversations with said Uncle about all the things that he wanted me to see on his behalf, and looking everybody up on youtube. Traditional folky stuff galore, with some mainstream greats too, and acts you've probably heard of, on Jools Holland, and thought you might come across again, and recent successes in the folk arena who have managed to get mainstream recognition. Just a small taster:

The Secret Sisters,

Chris Wood,

Bellowhead, (Spiers and Boden also performed as a duo- fantastic!)

Kate Rusby,

Richard Thompson,

Saltfishforty,

Pentangle,

Peatbog Faeries,

Rumer,

Mary Chapin Carpenter,

Laura Marling,

Port Isaac's Fisherman's Friends.

Whoa! I think I saw all of those, or remained nearby with a Greek salad and an Old Rosie, so that I could diligently say to my Uncle that I'd 'heard them', even if it wasn't something that could drag me away from a well deserved and well-queued-for meal. So this is an interesting thing- the elements of traditional 'folk' up against more household names. The hardcore folkies who have been going for years (and they all tell me that this is something I will really want to return to), have quite a bit to choose from, and those who just want it all (um, like me) have all of the above, and the new unsigned or newly signed performers to dip into.

 lovely flags at our colourful campsite

The performance tent at our site- open mics each evening. We camped away from 

the main festival and took a short bus ride in each day. It was nice to be able to retreat a little from it all, but the idea of staying on the main site is very appealing.

Then there were the announcements on the bill that made me jump up and down. So inspirational and wonderful was their music on CD and on Radio 1s Live Lounge (an avid fan here, of that programme), that I couldn't wait to get there. I also felt the need to get to these gigs 90 minutes early or so, so that I could find a space near the stage: Frank Turner and Newton Faulkner were the headliners.

Folk? Actually, not strictly... but there is something about this type of singer-songwriter, and story teller, that has firm roots in a folky idea- strong rhythms, personal feelings and stories, stuff that communicates so well, and is original sounding. Frank Turner (who is flibbing fantastic), has a new (beautiful) album out to promote, and is described as more of a punk-folk performer, but he was there for all of the above reasons, and he looked humbled by our reception. He was almost apologetic in interview, concerned about the reaction he might get from people who had come to see folk, and he sang his unaccompanied song to try and get some votes, and even had a guy on a recorder for us, but he was great. We went to the festival with my fella's sister, and two of her work colleagues, one of whom was in his 60s, and 'here for the banjos and Morris Dancers'. He thought Frank was superb.

Newton Faulkner is a feat of multi-tasking, and every single part of him is about the music-making. He has mastered a particular style of rhythmic guitar playing which includes drumming on the side of the instrument, with hammer-ons, harmonics and regular melodic and chordal playing. Its much funner to listen to than the clnical description sounds! His hit single 'Dream Catch Me'  may be familiar, and it is hauntingly beautiful, but its only half of what he can do. I haven't included links so far- I highly reccomend you check Mr Frank, Laura Marling, and the Fishermen out, but you must listen to this:

I'm a bit of a fan, and there was a signing tent where I got my programme, and my Fella got his 

guitar signed. Other musicians were there too, but the queues were long, and you ended up missing 

great music standing there, so Newton's was the only one we collected. 

We were lucky enough to go to a guitar workshop with him, which was  informal and relaxed, and not heaving to begin with, so we had the pleasure of being able to sit near the stage. A big part of this festival is giving people a chance to see or become involved. (Its a fantastic place for children- willow weaving, flower garland making, traditional story telling, and so it goes on...) We stumbled upon a fiddle workshop too, but I was too much of a chicken to take my violin. I will next year... I think! Anywhoo, we all sat there, struck a little dum by all that we were seeing. Its not the sort of skills you can grab in a day or a few weeks, but its just really interesting to be given a tour of his guitar and set-up, and shown what happens where and how to put it together. He tunes his strings very differently to the traditional way, which is an interesting idea, and gives an insight into just how much thought and prep goes into his style. And he's hillarious! So at ease with a crowd, and spontaneous and fun. What a nice guy.

We went to a vocal workshop with the Fishermen too- fantastic! You may have come across this traditional Cornish singing group- the BBC did a programme recently, with that Gareth chap from The Choir, investigating shanties, and they were featured. I think they have commercials and bits in the offing too. Good on them. They're highly entertaining- fantastic banter, wonderful accents, ofcourse (made me miss my Cornish relatives, although I do still see my dad regularly... but you know what I mean...) and beautiful harmonies and performances. Their album is good, Little Guy loves it, but you lose a little tiny 10% of something in the recorded article- they're just superb live, with minimal accompaniament , and if you ever get a chance to go to Port Isaac, I do believe they have carried on their tradition of singing by the sea on a Friday evening, for the locals. I know of a lovely fellow blogger who may have been to one of their performances on their home turf recently- we'll have to see what she says about it!

Port Isaac's Fishermen's Friends.

Oh, its been so lovely to sit and reminisce, and go through my photos once more. It really is the type of festival you'd want to return to, especially if there is somebody on the bill you need to see, (Stornaway and Joan Armatrading have previously played) because its a great venue.

Willow-sculptures: chinese lanterns decorating the camp.

Street artists. We saw a few of these- you couldn't escape. Best to move along 

otherwise they approached you! A beautiful fox in the background.

Returning to my little ones and their cousin, who they were staying with. I came bearing gifts! 

Little Miss L is modelling her new watch, Little Guy has his bumblebee sun hat, and Pickle Missy, as she is the eldest,  is sporting the folk festival essential- a flower garland.

And the camping? I survived- hurrah!  The weather was very kind to us, and the camp-showers have been updated from the ones I was told about- no solar power for us! Just regular over-used get-them-while-they're-hot ones that can sustain a lovely temperature when they are largely un-used in the mid-afternoon. Oh I must just post these links, if you get a chance, and you like your traditional folk,  The Willows and Feis Rois Musicians were my favourite little discoveries of the weekend.


xxx

An Evening Concert.

This should also be subtitled:

'and a post in which it becomes more apparent what I do for a living!'

It seems to have been a while since I blogged! I've been a busy bee, and have also been a poorly bee, and also a bee who was unable to finish her Photo Scavenger Hunt, but theres always next month. I think I'm back into routine now.

Let me tell you about a lovely evening I had at the weekend. There was me, my fella, a nice warm evening walk up to a beautiful church, and this lady:

source

 Forget your Take That tickets- this was the place to be! (Jealous, much?!..) I couldnt quite believe what I was reading when I found out that Tasmin Little was due to play with John Lenehan at a nearby church, and assumed it would be too difficult for me to go. But somehow there were still tickets at the 11th hour, and I managed to convince my other half (not known for his classical music leanings) that this was not to be missed. We were there early, so as to get the best choice of seats in our ticket price. I was thrilled to be very near the stage. This was the programme:

 Fritz Kreisler - Praeludium and Allegro

J.S. Bach - Sonata in E major No. 3, BWV1016

Mozart - Sonata No 17 in C major, K296

Grieg - Sonata No. 2 in G major, Op 13

Tchaikovsky - Melodie from 'Souvenir d'un lieu cher'.

Bartok - Romanian Folk Dances.

What a treat! There was a time when my life was steeped in classical music, and, much as I always loved the radio, and the Top 40, (and later on, Britpop and Indie and grungie stuff of all descriptions), I spent my Saturday mornings in Orchestras, my Sunday afternoons in choir, and almost everyday after school was a different music-based commitment or lesson. After my studies, I had no real reason to live and breathe orchestral music, and I enjoyed escaping it all for a while. I then decided that I missed it, but after I moved, there was no real way of getting together with others to make music anymore, so I started to teach, and found new interests to occupy my evenings (notably staying at home with my small children!) But I'm an all-round music kinda girl, and will listen to anything, and this programme took me right back to the days when I could call myself a pretty good violinist.

The Kreisler was a particular treat- such a lovely way to open the concert, and a real indulgence of mine. Due to the concert venue, it was unavoidable to hear her warming-up, and this was the one she practised before she came in- it was interesting to hear how she went over the notes, played it through slightly un-easily, double-checked her fingering and tuning just as any other debut-soloist might... even though she's far from this! Ofcourse she just slipped into another mode, and there were no signs of nerves onstage, just pure wonderful music-making.

The Bach was also very beautiful, and it was a new listen for me, just like the Grieg, which I must look out for a recording of. Of course the Bartok was the biggest croud-pleaser. I myself have a very tenuous teacher-student connection with Bartok. Aside from the fact that I love him, and I based my dissertation on his piano works, he also taught my violin-teacher's proffessor. You see? He is my Great Great Teacher...! When a student of mine played some Bartok in her exam last year, I had to tell her that she was his Great Great Great pupil!

And the lady in question, seems lovely. 'How can you tell from a concert?' I hear you ask. Ah- I just can! It was a fairly intimate performance, and she connected with everybody there. She gave music, and took pleasure in it, and seemed to have a wonderful musical connection with her very fine pianist. They shared smiles and private jokes between themselves during the energetic passages, through raised eyebrows and nods of heads, and they had a passion for the programme. There was a small incident where she came to the stage without the correct music, (which only made me like her more!) and he hopped off to collect it for her, and she filled the time on the mic with ease, talking fondly about the Kreisler that she had just played, and praising John Lenehan for his support and help. She also smiled, and looked genuinely grateful for applause, making the effort to look around the audience, catching the eyes of those that she could, to thank them back.

As with any good classical concert, the encore was a little bit of something special. (I once had the pleasure of seeing Maxim Vengerov at the Barbican in London, who, the previous summer, had sprung onto the world stage doing some impressive violinistic gymnastics at the Proms. I was a tiny bit disappointed to witness a purely Beethoven and Mozart programme, and had to wait until the second encore for a flash of his famous virtuosic playing!) My fella seemed a little surprised that they walked on and off the stage after they completed the programme, to recieve two more bursts of applause and then sat down to give us something unscheduled! But it was worth the wait. It was their own take (ie- lots of flourishes and scales and trills, and lots of opportunity to see the pianist's genius) on Monti's Czardas. Fantastic.

And what could finish the evening off nicely? A little trip to the pub, and a chance gig by a fantastic singer-songwriter. There were lots of covers of good tunes, as well as his own material. He has one of those little boxes that Little Boots used, and Ed Sheeren has, where they record a few bars at a time, layering claps, chords, backing vocals as they go- it was amazing to see him use it live. Plenty of Newton Faulkner-like guitar techniques too. Watch out for him- he's called James Kirby. Utterly inspirational. I told you I liked all music!


xxx

The Castle

I mentioned our trip back here. We went to a beautiful castle a few weekends ago. Petit Filoux blogged this morning about discovering somewhere lovely on your doorstep to visit, that you just hadn't got around to seeing. Its almost the same here!

This is nearby (like, about 8 minutes in the car), and I knew it was there, but just didn't think that it was accessible for the general public as it is privately owned. Well, I was right, but the owners open up the grounds once a year, to raise money for the NSPCC. Children were free, adults were £5, which I thought was spot on. It is an attraction for gardeners, as lots of independant nursery people and plant enthusiasts set up stalls for the day, and the beautiful grounds are enough to get you all inspired about your own bit of earth!

Although we couldn't go inside, (Little Guy may never forgive me!) we could pose for photos outside the grand entrances, and wander around the huge grounds, and spot people that I knew, through work, through toddlers, through school (which was a real wake-up call- ok, I don't meet these people socially, but it was lovely to think that I at least recognised so many familiar faces from my home town. Perhaps I'm settling?!)

There were several tortoises, who had very interesting names, who were caged up for the day. I can imagine the frustration of losing your gardens to a load of tourists and gardeners, when you usually have the run (well, you know, a slow run) of the place. This may explain the grumpy behaviour- most of them had decided to coop themselves up together in the dark box at one end of the run, but there were two large tortoises sunbathing and not hiding away from the people. There was also one smaller feistier one who was butting the pair, climbing over them, and nibbling their feet.

There was also a small-ish barbecue, offering hotdogs and burgers, and a stall with ploughman's lunches. I had brought my trusty standard-mummy-issue snack boxes, and water bottles because of the heat of the glorious day, but of course we sampled the tea and cake...

There were strange noises coming from above, and a presence in the trees. We went to see if we could spot the creatures. Peacocks! With attitude! Two of them stayed where they had been when we arrived, high up in the branches for the duration of our visit, and one was playing look-out from the top of the castle, watching the visitors come in and leave. But one was on top of the garage, talking to people and swinging around grandly, and ruffling, and strutting, hiding his head, and half putting his tail up like a tease. He was also keen to wander across if you had a camera, then turn around to expose his broken tatty feathers on his behind as soon as the photographers had lined their shot up. I managed to get one thought. He was fun!

I saw a couple of peacocks in a small theme park, in France, a few years ago. I was appauled at the state of their broken and dragging-feathers, and sad, and assumed that it was because they had been cooped up. But this handsome man was almost as bad! I wonder what state of repair the Hens are to be found in?...

Did I mention the archery? A small local club had organised a little informal teaching session for a small cost. It was lovely to watch, but I wasn't particularly tempted to join in, I was a bit too embarrassed, and I've learnt that these sorts of things don't come very naturally! I'll stick to my sister's Wii I think.

 Thats my fella's board on the right. He also popped two ballons on target. I did suggest that all he needed to do to hit the middle was to take one small step to his side. Not appreciated!

Daisy chains were made, and it was as calm and peaceful as anywhere might be. We just sat on the lawns for an hour or two, chatting lazily, people-watching, nibblng cake. It was safe enough and quiet enough by late afternoon for me to let the children roam a little bit freely, barefoot. It had a real atmosphere to it. And there was so much to see and enjoy that I gladly would have stayed all evening and night! Definately worth a return visit next year...

Note the obligatory smudge in the corner of the pic! (But I couldn't crop it otherwise you'd have missed the blue of the wild flowers!) Yes, my camera is playing up again! Its very frustrating, and new batteries last for about two photos before it flashes up as 'batteries dead'. Time for a new one I think! I will put it on my list to Father Christmas :)

And when we got home, for some odd reason my children (mostly at Pickle Missy's organisation) started to call our downstairs bathroom the 'tortoise', and the upstairs the 'peacock'. (The house isn't as posh as it sounds, and I'd gladly lose a bathroom to gain a third bedroom!) It has stuck. So I have made some pictures for the doors to clarify it! Even grown-ups love colouring in.

xxx

Its not you... (and a Grown-Up Eating Weekend... and a Recipe)

...and to be honest, its not really me either. I mean- not my intention that I should get quite behind with posts, not particularly my fault either, eh Blogger?!

Lets not bite the hand that feeds, but it was updating, and unavailable for a few days, and now it appears to have lost lots of my comments, including those I have made on other people's posts, and its no longer my friend :( So sorry if its been unusually quite at We Are Here, and thank you for your lovely comments, whether they are added to the main blog or not- they all come to my email address, and always give me smiles.

Putting the Grumpy Blog Lady part of me to one side now, its been a nice busy few days on the whole.
Where to start?
Well the children were with their dad for a couple of days, so Friday afternoon I went with my lovely fella to have a meal at his friend's house. A three course one no less. It made me feel all grown-up!

Bruschetta with mushrooms, sundried tomatoes and basil,

Roast chicken with garlic and rosemary potatoes and carrots,

Eton Mess.

Yum!

On the Saturday, we went to visit his sister who was doing The Moonwalk that night, on a 'wishing Good Luck' mission, to find that she was cooking a curry dish (King Prawns in a medium curry sauce), to take to the lane behind her house. Theres a wonderful little community spirit, alive and well, in their small corner of the world, and around 12 houses of neighbours get together a few times a year to do a 'bring and share' event. Four long tables were set out, and residents brought a curry dish, a chair, and a plate and cutlery.
There were lots of lovely things to sample, all for a small donation, to raise money for the Church Hall. Our timely impromptu visit meant that we were invited across to join them (the boyfriend being a fairly regular face around the area too...) Wow! Lots of lovely lovely things to try, and everything was homemade: pilau rice, chicken and beef dishes, bombay potatoes... and the puddings, including a 'Sweet Almond Slice', which was stopping eaters in their tracks, from a traditional Indian recipe, which I'm told was devine (I opted for the ice cream because I'm not much of a nut-eater). What a wonderful idea.

Onto another friend's house to watch Eurovision, which was highly entertaining as always!

On Sunday, my fella's mum made us a Tomato Tarte Tatin- something like this, only an Ainsley Hariett version I think. It was beautiful, served with a little salad, and on a warmish-tiredish-Sunday when all that it seems worth doing is relaxing, and watching a bit of Motorbike racing, it filled in the gap between breakfast and dinner. It reminded me of a recipe I used to use a lot, from dear Delia, but I think I'd watched it on the television and re-produced it with a limited choice of ingredients, and with vital components missing. I never looked it up, and I've probably done it differently every time. I'm not really a caramelised onion kinda girl, and when you see that this is the main ingrediant, it sounds a little off-putting... but its definately worth a taste. I used to use ghee instead of butter, and pizza dough instead of pastry sometimes, and I experimented with herbs and spices. The most important thing is the 'slow cooked' taste, and thats so true of tomatoes too. Lots of ingredients in fact- Such a lovely flavour!

Which jogged my memory, and jolted me into action somewhat.This weekend of lovely home-made creations made me feel annoyed at my recent limited cooking repertoire. When we were given some extra (uncooked) chicken fillets for Monday. I was determined not to cube it and stick it in a curry, or a mexican wrap. We looked through the cupboard, and had a look at some recipes for inspiration, and heres what we came up with:

Chicken with Tuscan Beans

Ingredients
2 medium chicken fillets.
2 tbs tomato puree
2 small onions
1 tbs lemon juice
1 whole lemon, sliced
garlic
2 cans mixed beans (we used chick peas and butter beans)
A few sprigs of fresh thyme, and parsley
1 tsp mixed fajita-type spices
1 jar passatta
3 sploshes of Reggae Reggae sauce

Set Oven to a medium temperature.
Prepare chicken fillets by flattening out a little on a board- They need to be thin and able to 'roll up' with a filling.
Mix in a bowl: tomatoe puree, lemon juice, 3 segments of crushed garlic, fajita spices, and spread evenly over one side of the chicken pieces.
Roll up the chicken, pop into a greased oven dish, and add a chopped onion and a sliced lemon, and some thyme (sprinkle on and around)
Cover the dish in foil, check throughout cooking to make sure it is not drying out, and cook thoroughly for about half an hour.

Onto the beans...

We drained, washed (essential!! Think poisonous if undercooked, and nasty gases if left in their own liquid!) the beans, then gently boiled them in fresh water first.
Fry the onion, and more crushed garlic, and add the pasatta, reggae reggae sauce fresh herbs, simmer then add the beans.
Cook on a low heat (or even transfer to the oven- just make sure its in there a while!) for the duration of the chicken's cooking time, making sure to stir a little (and taste a little, adding this and that) regularly.

Serve up with a glass of something lovely, with some crusty bread and a fresh rocket salad (you'll have to imagine those bits- I was too busy eating to take photos once it was ready!)



xxx

See ya!

I'll be back soon, but you can guess where I'm off to.

Oh, and I came across this, and had to share, just in case!...

What is your Royal Wedding guest name? 

Start with either Lord or Lady, then the first name is one of your grandparents names. Your surname is the name of your first pet, double barrelled with the name of the street you grew up on.

Don't you just love a bit of pointless fun? I do, and for this reason, this weekend, you can address me as such:

Lady Dorothy Tiggy-Lynton

Chin-chin!
xxx

Eastery Goodness

As predicted... I didn't manage to get back here before Easter, but I hope your long weekends were full of nice things. Mine was! I bought this little chappy for my niece, (and was so pleased with the find!) and the campervan for my lovely fella.

Christmas Easter is all about giving. Egg-cup-pressies wherever possible I say. 

And there was baking, much baking.

The Little People helped with the mixing, and icing, (and EATING) but mummy will have to admit to finishing the getting carried away with the decorating after they lost interest slightly.

My first attempt at a simnel cake for many years. Its only me (and a couple of visitors) who eat it. Not a bad situation given my love of marzipan...

I cooked a roast chicken dinner on Easter Sunday, which was a treat in itself (I don't do roasts very often on account of Pickle Missy's veggy preferences, and me working Sunday lunchtimes). This weekend was different, and the left-overs didn't last long. I made a Rocky Road for pud with crushed cadburys mini eggs, but you'll have to trust me on that one, as the photos didn't really come out.


What else? Well there were swimming trips, arty-moments, barbeques by the beach (no we don't live in Australia, but this weather convinces one to do these things!) an Easter Egg Hunt, and picnics, and gardening, and baking and, and, and...

Our lovely Easter cards.

I'll do another post on the garden soon, but I couldn't wait any longer to show you our hanging basket in its new position, hanging!- look!

The children had scooters from mummy. There is something to be said for the art of nagging. Given enough time, mummy does listen, and she does respond! I didn't mind treating them, as their birthdays are so near to Christmas, that they could otherwise miss these Summery Outside thingys. No major injuries as yet, unless you count a very sore trapped finger... but that was more the fault of a bedroom door hinge...

 Note the green and gold curly-ribbons, which are now permanent fixtures, and arguably just as exciting as the main present.

Lots of outsideyness this week. Perfect.

It was all quite fab... and now we must leave it behind, in an ' in between Christmas and New Year' fashion, because the loveliness isn't quite over-and-done-with yet, although it feels like its all happening a bit too quickly. It is a great pull, to have to resume 'normal business' for a couple of days, and to have to pretend to concentrate on school and work... before the Royal Wedding Bank Holiday (!!!!) which I hope will be full of lots more nice things.



xxx

PS, the 's' on the keyboard only works when it feels like it, so in actual fact, 'Easter' keeps coming out as 'Eater'. You ought to see my kitchen cupboards after the Little People opened the rest of their pressies from family and friends- how apt!

Roll up, roll up, for a trip down Memory Lane.

There was a tent on the green last week, and it arrived on Wednesday morning. Vans were parking up as we rushed to school, and a little voice said 'Ooh- whats happening mummy?!' and I said, 'Oh, probably a fair or something- we'll see'. But it wasn't. (The little voice also expressed some concern about said vans flattening the daisies, but I assured her that they would grow back). There were more vans arriving that afternoon, and by Thursday the Big Top was taking place.
We get a circus on the green every now and then, a travelling one, and I'm afraid that I have avoided them up until now. My reasons? I'm really not sure, but it isn't something that I instinctivey want to go to. I've tried to work these thoughts out though, because my reaction has surprised me, and I'm usually an open-minded creature. (Because this is a blog for my own ramblings, we'll start with those thought before I get to the review). Lets have a go:

1) Fast food vans- I had food poisoning (perhaps more realistically a sickness bug?!) after a school fair once, when I was young, and I'll never forget it. I still can't seem to trust them (and get uneasy around hotdogs), which means I don't like to eat at fairs and open air events. Truths.

2) I don't get the excitement. My mum is suspiscious of fairs, circuses, carousels and doesn't like them. So we didn't grow up with them, (no hardship really), and I didn't taste my first toffee apple or candy floss until I'd left home (nevermind). Who knows why she was uneasy? I'm still a little afraid of her, so I won't be asking. Perhaps I've inherited her concerns.

3) Everything is expensive, and theres alot to buy.

4) I don't like clowns much- I get a little freaked, and I feel like I'll cringe at the humour.

5) People can steal stuff from you! Something I also remember being warned- that pickpockets targeted places like these where there was likely lots of pocket money and crowds... call us cynics...

... so what's the attraction?...

I went to the circus once as a child, at my Grandad's organisation- he was absolutely thrilled that The Moscow State Circus would be nearby, and took us as his treat. It was quite rebellious, seeing as his daughter had no warm feelings towards circuses (see above)! What do I remember of it? You may ask. Not alot. Close to nothing. I have a terrible memory, but this particular piece of forgetfulness troubles me: I wasn't teeny tiny, so should be able to recall it, but I really couldn't tell you what acts I saw, and I know how important it was to him, and how he must have loved the thought of it, planned the day and looked forward to its arrival... and how I feel like I have clearly failed to appreciate his efforts, by forgetting all that I saw! 

I remember him holding my little hand in his big gentle one at the ticket kiosk, and climbing up to near the top of the Big Top, and wearing a purse with a string, which he and Gran had brought me back from their holidays, containing a pen with my name on. I can still see it- it was sort of rectangular, with rounded corners, and two little black poppers on a fold down lid, which I liked to think were its eyes. (Don't you just love Grandparent-Gifts, this is so Grandparenty, and it makes me smile. Whats more Grandparenty, is that my sister had the same gifts, except mine were in blue, and hers were in red). 

I was twirling the purse around and around, then leaning forward and spinning it the other way so it would rush back, anti-clockwise, (which was all Much Fun) when suddenly, out of the gap in the top of the purse (which was either upside down or spinning), my little pen fell downwards, between the benchy seats, and the scaffoldy stuff that they were attached to, and landed somewhere unknown, where I couldn't see. I was mortified- because I loved the little pen, and because I loved my Grandparents and knew they would be sad, potentially angry, and because it was lost, never to be found.

After the initial 'You're always fiddling and getting into trouble' comments, which are naturally bestowed upon the youngest, (and yes, I am proud of this trait), my dad did a Dad Thing, and missed part of the show, to rush downwards to the bottom of the tent, to carefully slide through a flap when nobody was looking, and search for my pen on the grass below. Which he found. Hurrah! Here ends the memory of my trip to the circus. What did I see? Dunno. But I got all the vitals there, I think you'll agree.

*********************************

So, as there was no escape from the fact that the circus was in town, and as the children had been talking about it in Pickle Missy's class, (so had the parents- nothing like peer pressure!) I put my prejudices aside and took the plunge. We sat with a little friend of Pickle Missy's, and her Mummy. I was concerned about the expense, and was doing my best to fit in with the other parents, nodding in agreement over how reasonable the price was. It kinda was reasonable, but its not the sort of money I have to hand usually. While we were queueing for tickets, somebody gave me a spare voucher of theirs which got me a discount. Happy Bunny.

I was worried about Little Guy's concentration behaviour, and in truth it was a fair concern because he was quite unsettled after the interval, but for the most part, aside from wanting to buy everything that the clowns walked past with before the show, and needing food and drink that I had vetoed (we bought treats from the corner shop to take with us- sssh- don't tell!), he wasn't too bad to manage.

Pickle Missy on the other hand, displayed a little bit of the 'wanties', as her friend had been bought an assortment of goodies from around the tent, but she was quite easily distracted, and became transfixed, and I truly think it made her week. I had the opportunity to sit back and attempt to reminisce, but as that wasn't really working, I just watched my little girl be totally absorbed in it. She loved the twirly whirly hoop girl, and the girl who balanced lots of things in her mouth and climbed ('to the very top of the tent mummy- I think she can really do it!!'), and the guy who climbed an unsupported ladder, and the trampoliney people, and the cops and robbers, and her favourite thing of all was 'the clown that was very naughty all the way through, but was good in the end'. Worth the visit to see their little faces, I can assure you. I can only hope that my family saw that wonder in my eyes when they were sweet enough to treat me too.

All three children were inspired to climb on things, and balance and get into mischief after the show, but thankfully none of them expressed an interest in throwing knifes at each other.

xxx

Tomato Plants do not like taking mini-breaks, and other Weekendary Things.

source

They truly don't appreciate it. They are apparently not fans of fresh-air and adventure when they are still shorter than two inches. Now this is a shame, because they struck me as outgoing seedlings, with a lust for life. I have sadly misjudged them. I was hoping that they would like the change of scenery, and the different people to converse with, so they were not left to fend for themselves, feeing thirsty and lonely this weekend, but offered warmth and comfort and drinks whenever they required them, and introduced to two friendly cats.

But instead of thriving on this change of lifestyle, they have decided to rebel, and to stop growing large amounts each day. They have instead decided to flop, and lean and press their noses against the pot. They are making a silent protest, and have swapped reaching for the sky, for touching their toes, and they have left their seed-hats on past the time when we all know that they should have taken them off. I can only assume that they were a little travel sick upon arrival at my fella's house, and that due to their size, they were feeling effects similar to time-zone changes. Perhaps they were watered too lovingly... a hazard when there are three water-ers in the house instead of one.

Now at this point I should include a photo of our Actual Baby Toms, but I would not want to upset you. I'm sure they'll pull through, and I'll post a happier picture when they do. It really is a sad thing, but I did sow extras in readiness of Rebellious Seedling Behaviour. I'll keep you posted.

Heres an idea- instead, lets have a quick peek at the friendly cats.

I took these photos at Christmas- hence the slightly seasonal reading matter. Meet Black Cat- she is affectionate and soft, and has the most lovely ballet- poses. Her little front paws turn out slightly like a dancer. And she likes to involve herself in what you are doing. She can seek out heat sources with the best of them.

And this, Blogland, is Grey Cat. She is one of the most unusual and beautiful looking cats I've come across. And occasionally, when she invites you, you can tickle her little ears gently, for a moment, and say How Do You Do, and then she is off, wanting your space rather than your company. She likes to reside on kitchen surfaces and find food, and unwrap food, and consume food, with the help of her sister.

And I had a lovely time with Black and Grey, and my fella and his family. We had a cooked breakfast on Saturday that was an Event- a lovely proper mealtime gathering, sometime around 10am, with all sorts of goodies to eat, and a teapot with a cosy decorated in chickens, and homemade bread, and posh sausages. Runny eggs too- lets not forget them. Yum. And Yey... for Breakfast Gatherings, which are a time-of-day all of their own, and not 'a little-something-(or-maybe-nothing)-before-the-school-run'.
Then there was house moving, helping his friends with boxes and vans, and a lovely long walk in the woods, and a meander around a seaside town and the pebbled-beach, and a zonk-out* in front of Proffessor Brian Cox.

Well I'll leave the plants at home next time...



xxx



*You know, like chilling, but with interesting facts (that you are enjoying) that you cannot help but sleep through...