Last minute table decorations, rag-rugging, Christmas 'stocking' decorating, the Christmas tree, and other December activities

Just time for some last-minute making of table decorations.

During a quick trip to the local park this morning we - er - "borrow" some holly, leylandii and ivy.

Using a potato as a base (instead of florist's foam) the potato is wrapped in foil. The kids use a barbecue skewer to make holes before poking in the greenery.

Some garden wire and bows made of leftover ribbon give it a more professional look.

While scrabbling around in the loft I re-discovered some rag-rugging attempts.

This week the kids have started their own rag rugs. These will probably end up in the loft after Christmas, but perhaps one day they'll be finished.

In the afternoon the kids decide to decorate small hessian onion bags with felt and ribbon shapes to make Christmas 'stockings'.

And yesterday we celebrated ds1's 14th birthday. No photos allowed on here (by his request. Where did my little boy go? ;)


In the past week or two...

Dd decides to make a cat tile to go with our others that reappeared during our pre-Christmas tidy up.

We sow cress, mustard, broccoli and alfalfa sprouting.

The Christmas tree gets decorated

Ds1 makes this year's Christmas cake. Now marzipanned, but still to be iced.

The kids open some discounted body parts (models)

Intestine-man causes some problems, but eventually we jam in all his internal organs and shut them in with his ribs. (No doubt at some time in the near future his ribs will give way and fire his guts across the room).

More microscopy

And at the beginning of December, a Christmas fencing team competition

Today

Today I tried to work out exactly how much sugar you need to add to homemade rhubarb crumble to make it edible. I got as far as half a bag of white and then (thinking I really needed to do the healthy thing) I added about a third of a bag of brown sugar (it was a big pot of stewed rhubarb). It's like when you make homemade jam and realise that the recipe requires 1lb of sugar for every 1lb of fruit. So much for a nice healthy alternative to shop-bought products.

Anyway, enough about jam and rhubarb.

Today it was hot. Yesterday it was hot. That's two whole days of hotness. No doubt we will have just acclimatised to this unusual summer weather when it will turn back into the sludgy greyness of a normal British summer. In the meantime I'm going to try not to complain about being hot. Honest, I really am.

The kids had a swimming birthday part to go to today so I sent dh along with them. I find swimming one of those things that is very difficult to enjoy. It bores me. I swim to the end of the pool and think 'Oh yeah, it's the end of the pool again, [yawn].' and then want to get out and go sit in a jaccuzzi (except that there isn't one). Still the kids enjoyed it and it was probably the best place to be on an unseasonably hot day.

While the kids went off and I had some peace and quiet I made headway into an article I'm writing for ThenUK. Somewhere along the line I seemed to have volunteered to edit their magazine. Perhaps I thought I had rather too much time on my hands [mad hysterical laughter as woman snorts into her red wine surrounded by piles of washing and an un-made house].

Yesterday I got up early and cycled on my rickety shopper to the allotment. I mostly cycled on the pavement as I'm not yet up to being released to the public roads. But it was early and the police were obviously still in bed and not bothering to harrass wobbly pavement-cyclists (either that or they saw the mad glint in my eye). The allotment looked pretty much as it did about a month ago when I last cycled and looked at it. Except that the weeds were taller. My, don't those weeds grow.

I made some feeble unsuccessful attempts at digging and then, because it was hot (see paragraph earlier) and the wheelbarrow tyre had deflated as usual and we're not allowed to put weeds on the allotment dump anymore so I didn't know what to do with them. So I cycled home, via the key-making person. I'm not sure where all the front door keys of the world go to, but probably the same place as all the odd socks. When you're down to one door key it's time to do something about it before the key fairy removes that last one.

It's ds2's birthday soon and I am in denial about needing to organise a party/outing/expense-fest. But it needs to be addressed and soon. Or birthday boy will be most displeased.

I have some catch-up to do about the kids' activities this past week. Mostly they involved fishing at the sailing club (Wednesday) and then yesterday ds2 did a sponsored walk, followed by bbq, canoeing, and waterpistol fight with siblings. I'm saying all this because the photos are on the other pc and if I don't get around to posting the photos up then I might forget to mention these things at all and then I'll look back one day and wonder what on earth we did in the week up to May 23rd.

So that's it. I'm going to go and continue being hot. Did I tell you it was a hot day?

Question: When is a hen not a hen?

Answer: when it turns into a cockeral.

No, it's not a joke. It's a rather serious business actually.

Two mornings ago there was a strange noise outside in the early hours. I looked out, couldn't see anything (it was dark). The noise? Well it was just odd. Like a barking, croaking, gurgling, clucking sort of noise - but actually none of those.

And then this morning I heard it again. But this time it was a barking, croaking, gurgling, clucking sort of noise with 'a-doodle-doo' added at the end.

Now, I don't know a huge amount about hens. I feed them, I clean them out, I worm them, and I run around very quickly when they turn on me (especially when chicken food falls down the inside of my welly -a very dangerous situation indeed!). But the one thing I do know is that hens don't - as a rule - make any noise that involves 'a-doodle-doo'. Are you following my drift?

So my conclusion (being the Sherlock Holmes type) is that the cute fluffy chick that we raised last year, that looks like a hen and acts like a hen (well ok, so its legs are becoming mini tree trunks and it's got a nasty temper on it) is actually not a hen at all.

NOT A HEN.

Putting it simply: Lola is actually Charlie.

But it looks like a hen. Well except today, when it is looking less and less like a hen the more I examine it. But maybe that's because I have been influenced by the vocal suggestion that it may be something other than a hen (all the time it sounded like a hen, then it also looked like a hen).

My only thought is that it's one of those breeds that when I googled it said 'it's very difficult to sex these chickens, because the first you'll know about it is that they'll either lay an egg or they'll crow."

Bummer.

So why didn't somebody tell me that it takes 6 months before a hen - I mean a cockeral - starts to crow? So, it gets to puberty and starts strutting its funky stuff going 'hey, look at the cool dude here' or something like that? In a very loud and strange -'my voice has just broken' - noise. It's all news to me.

Well, whatever. All it means is that out goes 'egg-laying potential' and in comes 'potential to mightily pee-off the neighbours'.

Don't suppose anyone want a free lunch (with feathers)?

---------------------------------------------

Ok, on to the home ed now. Yes, I know my posts are completely random. You probably click on the blog link and think 'I wonder what it'll be this time - Some political rant about home education? Some funny comment about parenting (or lack of)? Or a dull list of home ed activities with some photos of kids we've never met and have no interest in whatsoever?'

Well today ladies and gentlefolk, I'm going for option C...

Here is the news:

Spring has arrived (at last)

and with it, comes that craziness that infects all who stand in the way.

Mad teacher woman with tambourine in museum reminds home ed children exactly how patronising adults can be:

(it goes without saying that I am always very very thankful when others organise home ed workshops at other locations - but there are times when the workshops serve to remind me why I home educate)

Shocking new discovery of 'hoody' mummy - freed from it's crypt it roams the museum withh unfilled-in worksheets:

Criminal mother finds exactly how quick it is between taking a photo of the stage and the theatre police tapping her on the shoulder and telling her off (approx 2 secs after this photo):

[We saw Charlie and Lola - well worth a visit if it comes to you. Lovely for littleuns. True to the original. And no silly adults in funny costumes singing stupid songs (always a sticking point for me).

Of course I'd give it a full review if the security thugs at the theatre had let me take a few more fuzzy pictures. Pah! Who do they think I am? There's this badly dressed frump of a mother who couldn't find the hairbrush, with my crappy little digital camera and 3 fidgetty kids? Like I'm going to film the whole show (in blurry wobbles with 4 heads in front of me and small child begging for jelly beans) and put it on Youtube..? Ok. Rant over. I suppose it's a fair cop, guv. I give you the full two-fingered salute.]

Child praises miracle of mother actually finishing a knitting project:

[Do they look different lengths? Nah! I reckon it's just that one leg is longer than the other.]

[Notice the non-slip rug stuff sewn underneath? No more hall floor slides for you, my child. You have super sticky feet. Ha!]

One of the family proves that they can actually do academic work without mother threatening to send them to school ('..I'm phoning St Christophers now..what d'you mean? You're willing to do it now..?')

Small child demostrates how best to drown very tiny seeds:

(and then leave them to die from lack of water later)

Middle child demonstrates at science festival how to soak stall-holder's feet with water pump (and not apologise):

Small child makes mother freeze her wotsits off for 2 hours at science festival so small child can ask stall holder 'How big is Space?'

(I wouldn't have minded but the stall holder is her dad. )

'And how big is space?' I hear you ask

VERY.

(apparently, though I couldn't hear because my teeth were chattering too much).

Big child makes lethal additions to catapult collection (hard things to fire and targets to pretend to hit while actually aiming for squirrels):

Small child finds jelly bean on floor of theatre. Museum assistants date it to sometime in the 3rd century judging by the amount of archaic fluff attached to it:

And here endeth the news.

Very quick catch up...more later

Ok, very very quick catch up. I started this post several days ago (hence the date - today is 1st March, not 27 Feb). Weather is gorgioso today so should really be outside, not hovering on internet. Here are some recent photos...

ds1 visited huge warhammer games workshop place...


ds1 helped make flags then tried out some semaphore at the sailing club. It's harder than you think!

Ds1 tried out the crayfish trap that he bought himself. We left it over night but no success. I think it's probably still a bit cold for them to be active.

The kids tidied up their den, repairing some of the holes and adding an extension (plus a whole load more moss)

Our first visit to the allotment since, well, too long. I tidied up the compost bins and laid down some weed suppressant to try and deter those spring weeds from beating me into submission. Still loads more to do, but at least at the moment it doesn't look so bad.

We joined up with friends to make ice cream Ancient Greek boats (and then ate them!):

Dd making a dalmation picture:

The Knex workshop I (yes I) organised! A real success. Perhaps more about this another time...

And the ongoing saga with the cardboard construction of a telescope...

Allotment dilemmas and a little poem about carrots

I've been looking back at the last time I posted anything about the allotment, 19 May I think. There is a lovely little video of dd sprinkling carrot seeds onto my nicely dug, weed-free soil.

I have an update...

Ok. Spot the carrots.

They're in there somewhere. Honest. Found them yet?

It's a bit like those 'Find Wally' books, except that carrots don't wear red stripey wollen hats and football scarves.

Clue: They're the ones with the frizzy leaves (not the groundsel, horsetail, chickweed, grass or thistle).

Am I entering the allotment contest this year ?(criteria: imaculate disease-free weed-free veg, edging trimmed with nail scissors to exactly 2 inches, must be owned by retired person with huge flagons of pesticide and weedkiller, willing to put in 10 hours a day of weeding and tilling and picking)

No.

In fact the allotment secretary didn't even ask me this year.

Phwarh! What do care? [big raspberry noise].

Anyway, here's a little poem I have written in my head as I am blogging.( Don't expect grand things)

The Little Carrot Poem

I had some little carrot seeds

I put them in the ground,

but when I came to dig them up,

no carrots could be found.

I know I had a row of them

I sowed them nice and straight

I watered them and sung to them

And then I had to wait

But when I came to find my veg,

The patch was tall and green

Horsetail, dandelions and grass

Were all that could be seen

I guess I should have weeded them

And given them more time

Cos then we have some carrots

On this dinner plate of mine!

Ok. Well I said not to expect grand things! No, I wont give up the day job.

I have another allotment issue. Rather embarrassing really.

A fellow allotmentee gave me some of her wonderful Italian courgette plants. The ones on her plot are doing fab - loads of big lush green leaves, lots of tendrils...

This is what the ones on my plot are doing:

Well, look on the bright side...they're not dead (yet).

But why does it have to be the ones she gave me?! I mean, look at my home grown courgette (planted next to the ones from her). It's positively thriving! It's going to be a monster!

Ok, so that's allotment dilemma no2 (no1 weeds, no2 killing off a neighbour's present)

No3 dilemma is how do you pick a bush of blackcurrants when 30% are fully ripe currants, 20% are semi-ripe and the rest are still green?

Why can't the blighters just all ripen together? What is it with them?! Are they deliberately trying to make work for me? !

By the time the non-ripe ones are ripe, the previously ripe ones will probably be over-ripe and fallen off. Am I to just sit for hours picking off individual currants?

(by the way, 'Yes' isn't an option)

The Rebel Forces are at work - and they're sat at the table!

Ok, ok, so it's been a while since I've posted.
And we've done loads of stuff (honest!).

So let's start with today..

ds1 started writing a letter to his penfriend this morning (it usually takes about a month of hard slog before he completes a page), ds2 did a few pages of his Miquon maths (all easy stuff at the moment) and dd decided she wanted to join in. So I had to rummage around and see if I could find something for her to do too. I'd thrown away most of the preschool educational stuff as I thought it was a bit pointless. And then I had a girl and realised that some under 6s can sit down for longer than 30 seconds without destroying everything in the immediate viccinity. Funny that...

And there we were, all sat at the table - yes, sat - SAT! - SITTING DOWN! - AT THE TABLE - doing worky - WORK! - sort of stuff. I wish I'd taken a photo, cos it's such a rare event in our house. But then one click of the camera would have spoiled it all wouldn't it?

Oh horrors! Am I really celebrating that my kids are doing what they're told to do? Am I really singing hooray because they are writing and doing workbooks? Hmm...my autonomous education body is turning in it's autonomous education grave. I guess balance will be restored to the universe in due course ('Help me Obi Wan Knobe, you're my only hope'). Watch this space.

And then around 9.30am a friend's kids came round and everyone plugged themselves into various electronic devices: computer, Wii, etc. But, hey, my children haven't come off the set of 'The Railway Children', so what else could I expect? As I said, balance will be restored to the universe, and in this case it only took about an hour (and the wrinkly guy with the pointy ears and a fondness for lightsabers didn't have to turn up after all)

In the afternoon ds1 went off to a friend's house, and later to an ongoing workshop thingy where he learns behind-the-scenes stage/theatre stuff [don't ask me what, cos I only get monosyllable replies when I ask him - it's his age, you know]. And the remainder of the circus troupe helped me put up beanpoles at the allotment. The beanpoles look very rustic (sorry no photo yet) as they are real willow poles from real willow trees that I chopped down (no, I didn't chop the tree down, just the poles you understand). I'm just hoping they don't start growing - willow has a reputation for this - as I don't think the allotment committee will appreciate 3 willow teepees growing on my plot! (They don't like children, so they certainly wont like willow sculptures. Sometimes you just know these sorts of things.)

And what other stuff have we been up to? Well lots. But until I load up the photos I wont remember it all.

So...be patient. I just need to upload some photos and then I'll tell you all about it.

Ok?

Are you sure?

Good.

May the force be with you.

Fun fun fun in the sun sun sun

(if you watch Charlie and Lola, then you'll recognise that very Lola-ish title). We're all feeling very Lola-ish at the moment.

With a few days of fine weather and no particular place to go we've had bit of a garden-frenzy.

Tomatoes are looking fab in the greenhouse (all 40-odd of them).

Shame I don't really like eating them.

Why do I grow so many? Darned if I know.

The weather's been good enough for outdoor work so I dug over the border that Jack keeps trashing, and decided to risk planting out a few tomato plants. Last year this patch had herbs in, but I think the combination of dog wee and confrontations with next door's rotweilers through the fence (literally) finished most of the herbs off.

Only the sturdy chives remain; to be honest, as they are Jack's favourite marking spot, they're only really for decorative use, or for less hygenic cooks. Oh and there's a hollyhock plant too. Despite dh's best attempts to kill off the hollyhocks which he hates, they seem determined to live and procreate...in every crack in every concrete surface...ha ha ha ha they cackle, shaking their little seedy things everywhere.

As you can see below I decided to set up some sort of contraption for keeping the tomato plants in the way to which they were accustomed; a little bit of protection in the garden. I figured that these black plastic sheets (actually 3 king-sized binliners that I bought in error) might warm up during the day and give off a little heat later in the evening (well that's how the science is meant to work, isn't it?). Needless to say the kids were bemused to find me trying to nail binbags to the fence. You know how the conversation goes:

'So what's that for Mummy?'

'It's a binliner and a nail and a hammer.'

'Yes but what's it for?'

'It's science, child, but not as we know it.'

Or something like that...

Well if I'd given them the long version including the science they'd have only glazed over before muttering 'oh so it's educational then...'

Then I used some leftover plastic glazing panels to give them a bit of protection:

Not sure it will withstand a bouncy King Charles Spaniel and the heads of next door's rotweilers as they come through the fence, or the investigation of 3 inquisitive children for that matter. Live and learn.

Talking of creating structures, here is another attempt to convince myself I have the gift of construction. I introduce the DIY pergoda:

Actually, as you may have guessed, it's a double duvet cover tied to the neighbours' fence and the conservatory window and propped up on poles. But shh...don't tell anyone.

The average collapse rate of this structure is about once an hour in calm weather, increasing to every 10 minutes in windy weather. Collapse isn't a major issue, unless you happen to be eating your bbq at the table underneath. Perhaps a more permanent structure should be on the agenda?

Talking of bbqs, the kids have been doing some outdoor cooking. If you like your food untouched by human hands, seasoned with grit and only slightly licked by the dog, this is the perfect way to enjoy lunch. What's that I hear you say? You've lost your appetite?

Looks like someone is keen to join in with the DIY (you'll have someones eye out with that, you know):

Thankfully we still have a garden bench, though there may be a few extra drainage slots in it now...

And ds2 was given the job of getting the lawnmower working for the 2009 season. Took a bit of oil and some kicking (probably something to do with the fact that we kept it out in the garden all last year) but eventually it slugged and creaked into life, ready to attack the stones, dog poo, string, plastic spades, bits of fishing net, lego, ice cream tub lids, soggy shoe boxes and - oh yes - the grass. Still, at least the risks of a push mower are less than the flymo; you don't have wear a hard hat and full-body armour (have you seen how far those stone chips go??).

And here it is in action. Why am I videoing ds2 cutting the grass? Well because he asked me, of course. You don't think I'm mad enough to go around taking photos and videos of average, everyday not-terribly-exciting activities, just for the fun of it and then post them for public viewing, do you? What sort of a nutter do you think I am?! (I'm off to join the cackling hollyhocks, far too much sun on my head today).