Books and sky

We went to North Yorkshire for a week, and camped on the edge of Dalby Forest on the North York Moors.  I realised that one of the most important reasons I love camping is because it forces me to slow down and do nothing.  

We went for long walks during the day, and in the late afternoon and evening I passed the time by reading (four and a half novels in five days - what a treat!) and gazing at the sky.

That's it - books and sky.  

But honestly - what more do you need?

Road trip

We drove back home from Mum and Dad's on Sunday.  They live in South-West France, so it's one heck of a drive.  The part through France takes eleven hours, and when the ferry and the drive up through Kent and into East London are included, the whole journey takes around sixteen hours.  

I've always rather enjoyed long road-trips.  I did a few when I was at University and studying in America for a year, although I still have the classics on my to-do list: Route 66 from Chicago to LA, and the full East to West Coast trip, New York City to San Francisco.  When I was living in Australia, in my early 20s, I drove from Brisbane up to Cairns which is still my longest road trip (nearly 24 hours in driving time, although we spread it over three days).  In 2010 the children and I took a road trip from France to Switzerland, and then back along the German border to northern France and home.  That remains the longest trip I have done without someone else to share the driving.

We're used to the long drive down the length of France.  It starts with rolling off the ferry very early in the morning, and then we drive down the Calais peninsula, admiring all the wind turbines along what the French call the 'Autoroute des Anglais', because every other car (at least) is English.

 

All along our journey, the main role of whoever is navigating is to avoid Paris AT ALL COSTS.  I am well used to the mad, fast, often intolerant driving that goes on in a capital city, and I actually used to drive around Paris a fair bit when I was younger and working there, but I wouldn't want to do it now.  Paris traffic is either at a complete standstill, or moving eye-wateringly fast, and you need to be unhesitating and precise in your navigational skills at all times.

Much of our drive through France is on the autoroutes.  French autoroutes are owned by private companies, and most charge tolls to drivers.  However, the tolls are pretty modest - our eleven hour drive costs around £30.  I'm more than happy to pay because the autoroutes are such a pleasure to drive on - quiet, incredibly smooth and well-maintained, and well supplied with 'aires' (service stations).  Some of the aires sell petrol, food, magazines and are parked up with hundreds of trucks and cars, but others are just a selection of picnic tables and parking spots in a little forested glade, set back from the motorway.  On our way down we found a particularly nice one somwehere south of Orleans, where Olivia did some sunbathing and Graham did some yoga stretches (our journey down was the day after his marathon, so sitting in the car for 16 hours was tougher than it would otherwise have been for him).

We have flasks of coffee and bottles of water for drinking on the go, and a plentiful supply of chewing gum (neither Graham or I like long drives without chewing gum - is this strange compulsion just us?).  The children are plugged into their iPods, and spend the whole time reading.  Whoever is driving gets to choose the music for the front, and the passenger is not allowed to argue with the driver's choice.  Graham and I take it in turns to drive/choose music for about two hours each. 

The temperatures rise steadily as we get further south, and finally we turn off the autoroute and drive down small, rural roads for the final forty minutes or so to Mum and Dad's house.  We all know these roads so well, and Graham and the children and I all look out for the landmarks that tell us we are so very nearly there.  Coming back home, there is always a strange moment of disconnect when you get off the ferry at Dover, and England now feels like a strange and foreign land - so used are we to French voices, driving on the right and the sight and smells of the French landscape.

And then it's done.  The car engine is turned off, we all get out, have a stretch and start unloading bags.  If we are arriving at Mum and Dad's there are excited hugs, delicious wine and a hot meal before bed.  If we are arriving back in London there is the excitement of seeing the hens again, the comforting familiarity of being back home, and a mental calculation of how many more months it will be before we can get back in the car and do it all over again.

    

Kicking back

We're back in London, after a blissful couple of weeks staying with my family in France.  I miss them dreadfully, and it was so hard to leave.  But the second part of the summer holiday is now underway, and it is still lovely.  The children and I have a few more weeks at home together before the autumn term begins at school and at University - I know these are precious times that don't come around very often.  

I get up when Graham does, and either go for an early run in the forest, or sit outside with a cup of coffee and Radio 4.  The weather is still mild and sunny, and there is no structure to our days.  The children wake up whenever they feel like it - anywhere between 8am and 10am.  I still marvel at this - the early hours of the morning when they are still asleep reminds me of naptime when they were babies.  Such a stillness and anticipation in the house!

Early morning sunshine on the windowbox

 
Maybe we'll all hang around the house reading and baking, maybe we'll go to the farm and pick fruit.  Maybe Cam will head out to meet up with friends.  Maybe Olivia will spend all day drawing and listening to Capital FM.  Maybe I shall pick up my cross-stitch, or maybe I shall knit a bit more sock.  I love not knowing, and I love not planning (much).

Most of all I love being still and relaxed, after what feels like a whole year of running around and being busy.  These are good times.

cake!

coffee!

Focusing in on the detail

I decided it would be nice to do some French-inspired cross stitch.  But on calico, because I don't like aida.  The stitches are tiny.  I have to concentrate very hard indeed.  I would only attempt this sort of foolishness in the University holidays when I have hour after hour free, to sit squinting at calico and deciding where EXACTLY to put my needle in next.

I do love holidays.  Full of pointless, small satisfactions like this.

10 small indulgences

• ice cream
• an espresso
• Parkrun
• day dreaming
• 10 minutes reading your book
• rubbing your fingers through a lavender bush
• eggs for breakfast
• a new magazine
• a bunch of 99p flowers from the supermarket
• buying a postcard

I have a long holiday from University this summer, and I plan to fill it with as many small indulgences as I can.  I'm off to a good start.

 

The sock spring

I sat outside in the sunshine, on the last day of my holidays.  I finished knitting one pair of socks, and started another pair.

 

I reflected on a great day spent with my sister yesterday, and then a lovely phone call with my brother.  It doesn't take much to keep me happy - socks, siblings and some sunshine. 

It feels as though spring finally came to East London today.

In the school and university holidays

New things:

• The new sense of optimism and energy in our high street these days; Graham and I like stopping off for an espresso on our way out, if there's time.

•  Three new hens! Including this blue-egg laying beauty, who we've called Adelaide.  They are settling in very well.

•  The novelty of having early mornings to myself - the children now sleep in until nearly 10am if left to their own devices. 

• Visiting the Cutty Sark in its newly restored splendour at Greenwich.  It was a fascinating day, and the boat has been restored brilliantly.  We all loved the 'audience' of figureheads at one end of the boat.

•  New tea towels from Snowden Flood, who designs such beautiful things. 

And amongst all this newness, there is still the stability of well-known, familiar things. Days out with old friends and with grandparents. Watching some good tele.  Favourite meals.  Baking with friends.

Good times.

10 good things on a Good Friday

• All alarm clocks switched off.  I still woke up at 6:20 though - force of habit.
• A peaceful couple of hours in the kitchen, first thing.  Strong coffee, freshly baked soda bread, omelettes and spicy tomato sauce for breakfast.
• A solid three hours studying, while I listened to my iPod.  I need to make some more study playlists - I know the current ones too well.
• Graham and Cam watching Battlestar Gallactica on LoveFilm.
• A couple of new eye pencils - making my life that little bit more glamorous.
• Cam and Olivia gazing at Easter Eggs - embargoed until Sunday.
• Slobbery baby kisses with my niece.
• Playing trains with my nephew.  I am impressed I still know my Percy from my Toby, and can even tell Annie and Clarabel apart.
• Forgetting about cardiovascular disease for a little while, and heading to the pub for a quick drink with my friend.
• We had whitebait as a bar snack - I LOVE whitebait!

Cheers!

  

Where I was - 2012

How can a year be so wonderful and so hard all at once?  That was 2012.

I started the year at home, going for walks in my usual favourite haunts - Epping Forest, Kew Gardens, Mum and Dad's house in France, the streets of London.

At Kew Gardens

 

In Epping Forest

 

Hiking in France

 

Life ticked along.

Waiting for the tube - reading my Kindle

Then in June I decided to see if I might be able to apply for a place at University in 2013 to do a post-graduate nursing degree, despite my lack of any science A-levels.  I took Olivia with me to the summer Open Day, and thought to myself there's no harm in finding out. 

By the end of the day I'd had a first interview (with Olivia sitting by my side - solemnly reading her Beano) and had been given a date for my second interview.  Two weeks later I had my offer - for 2012, not 2013.  What I thought might take a year to sort out, took just a fortnight.

Olivia reading her Beano , as we waited for a lecture on student finance at City University

In August the sportsmen came to town, and we all went to the Olympic Stadium.  Cam went as a performer too.

In the Olympic Park with flags - Cam and me

In September I started University for the second time and became a student nurse - the best, most overwhelming, most interesting thing I've done in my adult life.  So many injections, so much work, so many biology workbooks, so many flasks of coffee, so many hours referencing essays.

At West Smithfield - on my way home from the Health Sciences library

 

First day at university - lunch, a bottle of water and coffee

In December I left the comfort of the campus behind and started my first placement - working long shifts in a large London hospital.  On my first day, as I walked to the tube along dark, cold streets at 6am, I thought to myself 'this is the single most scary thing I've ever done in my life'.

An early morning walk for me and Graham - late November

And before I knew it, it was Christmas.  Two people in the family were very poorly and I was reeling with exhaustion.  I've spent the last few days feeling thankful:

• for lovely, long-limbed children, who are kind and who make me laugh
• for my own health - I've learnt this autumn and winter that you can't take health for granted
• for friends who let me doze on their sofa, and forgive me when I don't write and forget to post their Christmas presents
• for corner shops that sell Green and Blacks and decent cheap wine
• for the doctors and nurses who looked after my own loved ones so well - I hope other people might think the same of me one day.

Dad and Graham - in France, Easter 2012

Me and Nigel Slater - New Year's Eve 2012

Along the way there were also two new nieces, a second hip replacement operation for my Mum, the arrival of a slow cooker and the departure of the bread machine, a bit of journalism, plenty of sewing, quite a bit of knitting and numerous cakes.  Olivia took up the French Horn and Cam became a teenager.  I don't think there'll ever be another year like it for testing me, challenging me and rewarding me.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Where I was in previous years:
2011
2010
2009
2008
2007

Notes on La Rentrée

The French have a useful word for this time of year: La Rentrée, which literally means 'the return'.  It encompases not just the start of the new school year for children, but also the return to regular routines and work for the adults after the long summer break.  The latest Marie Claire Idées, which arrived this week, is all about la rentrée and autumn.

Marie Claire Idées celebrates the start of autumn

Here, the return to school has gone smoothly - as much as it can with adjusted school hours for Cam because of the extra traffic caused by the Paralympics, Olivia's molar falling out on a packed tube train on the first day of term, a request for a one-piece swimming costume (named) for the following day, a broken pair of glasses and a missing calculator. 

Everybody needs some familiarity with so much newness and busyness going on, so I made beef and onion pie for tea on the first day of term, lemon buns on the second day, and it will be plum crumble tonight.

Pie in progress

 

Back to school buns

 

A sink full of free plums from the local park - destined to become a crumble

I needed that comfort as much as the children did.  As always, I felt bereft on the first day without them - the backpacks, PE bags and instruments disappeared from the hallway and the house felt too quiet and empty with no children in it.
 

Bags in the hallway on the second day of term. Only the green one is mine.

But we all find our rhythm soon enough.  The children were ready to go back and came home from their first day chattering enthusiastically about their freinds, their teachers, and the new things that are happening at school this term.  I found that it was rather pleasant to have some quiet time for studying, and have been pushing on with my own pre-course homework from the University.  I start in just over a week's time.

The perfect setting

I sat in the woods as the sun set, listening to the wind rustling the tops of the trees and marvelling at the changing light.  I had a plastic mug of very nice wine in my hand, and a campfire to toast my feet over.  I felt utterly content and took a self portrait.

Just two nights camping with friends was an idyllic break from everyday life.  These short trips usually seem to pan out like this, and it occured to me that over my many years of camping we - and our friends too - have acquired a great deal of experience.  It's a slick operation these days; we bring everything down from the loft, check it off our list, and stuff quilts and pillows into compression sacks.

Compressed quilts, sleeping bag and pillows



Decompressed quilt, pillows and sleeping bag

We stayed at Forgewood Campsite, in Kent, close to the Sussex border.  It is a delightful site which manages to create the perfect blend of wild camping (no electicity, no caravans, campfires permitted and acres of ancient woodland to pitch in) with helpful facilities (plenty of clean showers and toilets, purpose built washing up areas and a farm shop).  When we are camping with friends we want a campsite that lets us pitch our tents together, build a fire to sit round and cook over, and has woods for the children to run free in.  Forgewood had all of this.

Olivia, coming back to camp for food

We all brought great quantities of food - both to feed our own family and to share.  On Friday night we shared vegetable curries, made at home the day before by my friend, Cathy, and reheated over the campfire.  We mopped them up with breads we had all brought with us. On the Saturday we ate salads, also made at home and brought with us, fruit, slabs of homemade cake and endless cups of tea made on the Trangias and gas stove (of the three families camping one favoured a Coleman gas stove, one favoured Trangia with a gas bottle adapter, and one favoured Trangia with the meths burner - they all work brilliantly).  That night we barbecued sausages over the campfire, and ate them with garlic bread that Cathy made.  The children then toasted marshmallows later in the evening. 

Camp kitchen

We feasted like kings all weekend - good food is a non-negotiable element of a camping trip for me.  The only thing that can improve sitting in the sunshine, drinking beer with good friends, is when there's a perfectly cooked, juicy, pork sausage (or two) to eat at the same time.

The weather is something you can't control when you're camping - you just have to prepare for it.  The whole point of camping is to get outside and ground yourself in nature - whether that may be sun, rain, warmth or a cold breeze - but there's no denying that warm sunshine is what we're all after, really.  We pitched on Friday as the rain clouds started to clear from the skies.  It was extremely windy, and we were glad to be in the shelter of the woods.  The ground was very damp, but not too muddy because of the leaf litter on the forest floor.

My and Graham's tent, with added jubilee bunting

Over the evening the clouds moved further and further away, and by the time I crawled into my tent at about midnight, there were stars all over the sky.  It stayed dry for the whole weekend, and only started to rain as we brought the last of the bags in from the car, back in London on Sunday afternoon.

No wonder I look happy in that photo - I had good friends, good food, plenty of wine and beer, and I was sitting beneath green beech trees listening to them whispering.  The weather was incredible and our dirty children were running around in the woods jumping into ditches and plotting adventures. 

Every minute of packing, driving, pitching, unpacking, putting away and washing is entirely worth it for weekends like these.