Autumn Weekends I

Image by M

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Back to School

If ever there was a weather to signify the start of a new school term than surely a chill to the air and torrential rain must be high up on the list. Despite sunshine yesterday small autumnal leaves drifted down onto me as I walked to the tube. Today I am going to have to move fast or I will look like a drowned rat by the time I walk out of my front gate.

Whilst I do love summer, and who doesn't, there is a small part of me excited by the change in the seasons, the nip in the air, the earthy smells and colours of autumn. For me, autumn rather spring will always be the backdrop of new beginnings: school, university, law school, my first proper job. It may have been 8 years since I went off to university but there is still that undercurrent that something has ended and something even more exciting is about to begin...

...it would just be nice if it could remain as summer for one more week as we are off to the beach at the weekend for one last trip this season. After that, it can be as autumnal as it likes.

Summer Ends

London seems so grey in comparison to Brittany where the sea sparkled and the sky was the deepest of blues. The August bank holiday always seems to signify the end of summer and the weather this week hasn't dispelled this image. I know I have PMT at the moment which is no doubt not aiding the lift of my mood but I feel a little restless. In many ways September is a gorgeous and beautiful month but I can't help but wish we had got past the in-between stage and were properly in the boots, cardigans and autumnal colours phase rather than this grey one.

Spent much of the week sailing but when we weren't sailing I was reading: The Devil Wears Prada (again), The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton (which was surprising compelling), Wives & Sweethearts by Lilian Harry, School's Out by Sarah Tucker and then I am part of the way through Andrew Marr's The History of Modern Britain. Marr's book is interesting and explanatory and reads well. I will comment further when I have finished it. As for the others, they were holiday reading through-and-through.

Morton's The Forgotten Garden was the most interesting read as I was genuinely gripped by it at one point and the twists were enough that you weren't quite sure what was going to happen, although you did find out all the answers in the end. Satisfying, but somehow works that leave you guessing a little are more appealing in the long run. My little sister made surprisingly short work of The Secret History by Donna Tartt - she had asked me to bring her two books, so I chose that and Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood - which was perhaps not all that surprising since she has just returned from a year in an East Coast university, although I hope she did not identify too closely with all the material.

Perhaps when I can summons some more energy I shall post a review or two. For now though all my spare evening time is spent wedding organising. For further details if you are interested see here...

Carte Postale

Dear Little Miss Rachel
Being the 21st century a little less of a postcard more of an electronic message and perhaps even a photo if I can manage it (which I can't as connection too slow). Currently somewhere in Brittany 'checking the weather forecast' otherwise known as an excuse to visit a bar for some bière and a little wifi action. Listening to a live french band and drinking something alcoholic. Weather has been a little off, it was blowing a gale for the first three days so no sailing rather holed up in port witnessing Petite Anglaises' comments about married french men being utter s***ts firsthand. And no we didn't go with them to le discothèque in Carnac despite their best efforts.
More sailing tomorrow, back to Angleterre sometime soon.
Au Revoir
x

High Street Rage

I went shopping briefly after work yesterday; a quick 45 minute dash around some of the shops in Angel before my visit to the beauty salon and some pre-hols maintenance.

It is August. As far as I am aware the majority of British holiday makers take their vacances during the school holidays. So mid July - end August. Others without children perhaps start earlier, say Mid May onwards and the entire holiday period probably stretches until at least mid-September, perhaps later.

Being as I am going on a sailing holiday which I hope will contain at least a few hours of sunshine (although judging from the weather forecast we shall be lucky if we get a day without rain) I will need a bikini or two. I've grown a little since last summer and one of my bikinis no longer fits properly. I decided I could probably do with another one, so I started my search in Accessorize. They had a few bikinis on the sale rail - all size 16 and larger, mostly bottoms. A more thorough search of the shop revealed three styles on a rail at the back, again all 14-16s and no tops. A quick check with a sales assistant confirmed that indeed these were all the swimwear they had on sale.

"We've got the autumn stuff in now" she trilled.

"But it's August. I'm going on holiday. Don't you think people might actually want to buy summer/holiday items when they need them? (i.e. the month they go, not three months before) Not have to make do with the few sizes left in the sale".

"Well, they've been in the sale for a few weeks now, that's all we have left" she replied

So even if I had gone on holiday in July I still would have found the bikinis in the sale. And when I asked her to pass onto her manager that most people perhaps might like to be able to buy things in the season when they need them she responded "complain to customer services then". So I left.

A quick look round the other shops in the area confirmed the same thing: swimwear in the sale, if in the shop at all. No sizes on sale smaller than a 14 - no tops. I wonder if the shops order more bottoms than tops or whether there has been an odd run on people buying tops but not bottoms?

So I shall make do with last years too small bikini and the rest of the time I shall wear pants and shorts. If it is not p***ing with rain...

Not feeling terribly inspired this week, I have to say. One of those weeks where work is a little dull and you feel rather tired all the time. This cross blogging is also a little strange as I am not sure where I should place this post. Perhaps I will be lazy and cut and paste it onto both...

We did manage to do some more to the flat this weekend though, in amongst some dinners and a birthday party. We have reorganised what we call the 'garden' room (i.e. it opens onto the garden and there is no other obvious use for it) so that it flows better and I have a space now to do wedding (and hopefully not wedding related) craft and diy projects. We have also done a lot of de-cluttering - we have got rid of another 2 bags full of old clothes on free cycle as well as a bread bin and we threw away another 2 boxes of paper recycling and some assorted odds and ends which were not in good enough repair to be passed on.

The bedroom looks more like a proper room too now. Previously we have had both the doors open but one of them blocked off by a chair. We eventually decided this weekend to just close the door and use the space for storage, placing the chair in front. I hadn't anticipated what a difference it would make but the room looks much larger now. We have also put all the books back in the sitting room, recycled a good proportion of our 'sentimental' wine bottle collection and put up a print on the wall as well as bringing in some candles and finding places for all the clothes. Where once someone commented "is that a bedroom, or the world's largest cupboard" on peering round the folding doors which separate the bedroom and sitting room, it is now clearly a bedroom, and a relaxing one too.

Our next task I think will have to be the bathroom. Sorting out all our clothes meant that there is a huge mound of laundry as you cannot put something in a drawer which is not clean. Sadly we have had a rainy weekend so I didn't manage to dry any washing outside and the dehumidifier has already pulled 2 and half litres of water out of the air (recycled straight into the watering can) so it might well have to be a trip to the laundrette at the top of the road. Alternate weeks of hot and then rainy weather have doubled or even tripled the mould growth on the ceiling above the shower, so we need to clean it all off and then paint it with some anti-mould paint. Once the washing has gone and the mould, I think it should feel emptier and lighter in there. Larger than our old Primrose Hill bathroom, but it is still definitely tiny.

Make Do and Mend: Banana Bread

Take the very end part of one jar of white sugar and one jar of brown sugar and using a wooden spoon bash out any lumps and combine to make a pale brown colour (175g). Add half a packet of cooking margarine which is definitely past the shops date but which looks and smells absolutely fine (125g). Cream together until combined.

Take 2 eggs which went out of date 2 weeks ago but when floated in a jug of water still sit on the bottom. Break one egg into a separate bowl and smell it, just in case. Add to the butter&sugar mixture. Beat well. Repeat with second egg.

Sieve 280g of plain flour into a bowl before adding half to the mixing bowl. Stir well. Add 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda.

Measure 125ml of milk. Add half to the mixing bowl. Stir well. Add the rest of the flour. Stir well. Add the rest of the milk. Stir.

Take up to three old soft bananas (depending on how many you have and how pronounced a banana flavour you wish) and mash. Fold into mixture. Add 1tsp vanilla essence (if you remember) and 75g chopped walnuts (if you have any).

Tip into greased loaf tin and bake on gas mark 4 for one hour.

Eat warm with butter and a cup of tea.

Books I have read

Diary of a Surprise Mum says that "Someone” reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books "they’ve" printed ( I coudn't work out who 'they' are). It’s not the Big Read though — they don’t publish books, and they’ve only featured these books so far. So here we go…

1) Look at the list and bold those you have read
2) Italicize those you have read part of and will go back and finish when you get some time
3) Underline the books you LOVE
4) Highlight the ones you still want to read but just have not had a chance yet*
5) colour red the ones you own but have yet to read
6) Reprint this list in your own blog so we can try and track down these people who’ve read 6 or less and force books upon them.


1. The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
2. The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
3. The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood
4. Lord of the Flies - William Golding*
5. Life of Pi - Yann Martel
6. The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
7. The Color Purple - Alice Walker
8. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle*
9. Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
10. To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
11. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
12. Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
13. His Dark Materials (trilogy) - Philip Pullman
14. Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
15. Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
16. The Hobbit - J.R.R. Tolkien
17. Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
18. Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
19. Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
20. Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
21. Chronicles of Narnia - C.S. Lewis
22. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
23. Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne
24. Animal Farm - George Orwell
25. Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
26. Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
27. On The Road - Jack Kerouac*
28. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
29. Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White
30. Hamlet - William Shakespeare
31. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
32. Complete Works of Shakespeare
33. Ulysses - James Joyce
34. Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
35. Les Miserables - Victor Hugo
36. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
37. The Bible
38. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
39. War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
40. Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
41. Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
42. The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44. Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
45. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
46. Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
47. The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
48. A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
49. The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
50. Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
51. Little Women - Louisa M. Alcott
52. Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
53. Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
54. Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
55. Middlemarch - George Eliot
56. Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
57. Bleak House - Charles Dickens
58. The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
59. David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
60. Emma - Jane Austen
61. Persuasion -Jane Austen
62. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
63. Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden*
64. The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
65. A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving*
66. The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
67. Anne of Green Gables – L.M. Montgomery
68. Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
69. Atonement - Ian McEwan
70. Dune - Frank Herbert
71. Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
72. A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
73. The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon*
74. A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
75. Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez*
76. The Secret History - Donna Tartt
77. The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
78. Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
79. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
80. Bridget Jones’ Diary - Helen Fielding
81. Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie
82. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
83. Dracula - Bram Stoker
84. Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
85. The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
86. Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
87. Germinal - Emile Zola
88. Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
89. Possession - A.S. Byatt
90. A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
91. Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
92. The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
93. Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
94. A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
95. The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
96. The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
97. The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
98. Watership Down – Richard Adams
99. A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
100. The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas

31
19
6*
11

999

We found him lying on the floor half way up a footpath leading from the station to the main road. He was being helped by a lady who could not speak much English and she seemed grateful that we stopped. He half made it to his feet, hauling himself up on the railing before staggering and falling back to the ground. His rucksack was unzipped and we could see medication inside. He pulled himself to a sitting position and mumbled incoherently. Then the heavens opened and rain started pouring down, soaking us all in an instant. We asked him what was the matter, he said he didn't know but he felt 'heavy'.

Decision time: we couldn't leave him there but it didn't seem enough of an 'emergency' to call an ambulance. The mumbling and the rain continued. I called 999. Asked for an ambulance, explained our location and said it didn't seem a proper emergency but I thought he needed help. Five minutes later a paramedic arrived in an ambulance-car. He established the man was an alcoholic who had just been released from hospital and who had other health problems. The man who wouldn't tell us anything beyond his first name seemed to trust the paramedic with his uniform and accompanying kit-bags.

We waited for a few minutes to see if we could do anything else but the paramedic said that there wasn't anything but that we had done the right thing in calling him. So we left, walked on to our intended destination: the church where we hope to get married next summer.

Wedding Blog

For anyone who is interested I have set up a new blog Peacock Feathers & Diamond Rings where I intend to write about all wedding related topics thus leaving this blog to my usual topics...

Also, the ring picture is now on the Duttson Rocks website.

The Wedding Planning Commences...

Who knew that planning a wedding would be so complicated?! Obviously, being a girl, I have dreamt about the day the man who would become my husband would propose to me and the beautiful wedding that would follow. I have dreamt about it and formulated plans, colour schemes, ideas. Only I never had to think about practicality; how all the plans would fit together and more importantly, how much they would cost.

Yes, cost, the bug bear of my life and currently, the wedding. Add the word 'wedding' to anything and it seems to triple in price. Obviously on a Saturday in June there are limited reasons for wanting a marquee venue for 120 people. It doesn't take a genius to work out what is going on. What it might take though is a genius to work out how to incorporate all our plans and ideas into a budget that we, my parents and my future parents-in-law can afford.

Thankfully, M and I have pretty similiar ideas about what our wedding should be like. It took us about 10 minutes to agree on our ideal location followed by a week convincing the investors. We know what we would like in theory but finding the people to make it a reality is slower to come. Perhaps the most frustrating thing is finding out pricing - most companies wish to provide individual quotes which abstractly is fine but rather time consuming when you are looking for ideas. What we immediately want to know is roughly what their average quote is. Do they routinely charge over £1000 or is it more like £500. I don't really want to waste my time getting personalised quotes to find that it was never ever going to be within my budget at all.

Other observations regarding the wedding business this week relate to church weddings. I can see why people don't bother if they are happy with a civil/registry office wedding. Aside from the initial meeting with the vicar there are at least three wedding preparation sessions to attend (well intentioned I am sure, but after 6 and half years together we are already aware that people tend to like to give and receive affection in different ways...) and many many extra costs to pay. And that's after the realisation that you can marry in one of about 4 churches unless you have a 'special connection' and a licence from the Arch-Bishop, which is what we are relying on, a London wedding not been an attractive or affordable option. I know they don't want people entering into marriage thoughtlessly but surely the church as a whole should be making it easier not harder to have a church wedding.

Still, small rantings aside, I am so excited at being engaged and really looking forward to the wedding already. I keep looking at M seeing how much happier he looks and thinking this man is going to be my husband. He really will be with me forever. And after that, wedding budgets don't seem to matter that much after all.

Engagement Parties

What a busy week it has been. One week on since we got engaged and we have been out to dinner 6 times and had almost as many bottles of champagne. We have decided where (ideally) we will get married; we now have to convince the Chaplain and find the perfect venue for the reception. I have got some ideas for the theme and yesterday bought some shoes(!) by Rupert Sanderson. The ring has now been photographed so I might even post a photo when they are e-mailed to me.

Tonight is our informal engagement party and I am cleaning, tidying, ironing, washing and gardening in preparation not only for tonight but for also practising my wifely duties. All whilst watching the Wimbledon final, of course.

More details

Rather annoyingly I forgot to charge my camera battery before we went. But I thought we were simply off for a weekends surfing so I was not unduly worried. How wrong I was.

I had finished surfing and after struggling out of my wet, sandy and now too small wetsuit I had simply pulled on a pair of shorts and a vest and a crew top. I was only going to be lying on the beach reading the paper, drying off in the sunshine, wasn't I? How wrong I was.

So there I was with wet-then-dried-in-plaits hair, no make-up, sandy clothes, no camera, mouth full of fish and chips, when M asked me to be his wife. And presented me with a gorgeous ring*; sea-coloured (aquamarine and diamond), ethical, the perfect size.

The camera battery lasted for three photos.



*In due course my ring will be photographed and added to the website, in the meantime you will have to imagine...

Surfing and other stories

Back in London after the perfect weekend to finish off a busy two weeks. Looks like I might need to do a little re-branding here though, as Little Miss Rachel is no longer appropriate...

Sailing

The Queen Mary 2 on the Solent this weekend. Whilst anchored off Osborne Bay we listened to the Isle of Wight festival drifting on the breeze and heard three separate 'pan pan' calls to Solent coastguard (on strike due to pay and conditions dispute), two of which were being relayed through a passing third party, all of which required the lifeboat being launched. Was almost as enthralling as a soap opera, channel 16 today.

Memories of Italy Part One

The sight of the coast of England being left behind against the blue sea of the channel as we climbed upwards over France in the aeroplane

Leaving behind Milan, the motorway, smaller towns and then climbing higher and higher into the mountains before stopping. the engines cutting and the sound of grasshoppers, of wind in the grass, of dogs barking, of nothing.

The sound of the church bell across the valley striking the hour, a slightly higher pitched 'ting' denoting the half-hour, one church chiming the time about 4 minutes before the other.

On Sundays the haunting sound of choral music drifting across the valley in waves of sound, sometimes loud and clear before tailing off into a murmur on the wind, barely audible before rising again. It was a service, perhaps being broadcast to the workers in the fields.

Walking back from a beautiful meal in a restaurant with no menus and no prices, you ate what they offered you and drank their selection of wines. the road was so dark when a car came one of our party held up his lit blackberry so that we could be seen, even in white trousers on a still, cloudy moonless night we would have been no match for Italian drivers. feeling small in comparison to the blackness. seeing fire-flies darting around, dancing in the darkness to an unheard song, their tails like LEDs.

The low slung mist which wrapped the tops of the mountains as if in cotton wool and hung, ethereal, in the valleys, turning Italy into New Zealand or Japan, the dark greens of the mountains furring in focus as the lower clouds moved past

Truffles on pasta. local fizzy wine. espressos for one euro, glasses of wine for little more. cannelloni, meringue, home cooked beef, coq-au-vin, bread sticks,

Juliet's house in Verona being covered in graffiti with bunches of 'true-love' padlocks fasten to the gate like bunches of wine.

If not later, when?

Exams, birthdays, work. It may be that I am absent for a while. But I shall leave you with this thought: I am currently reading Call me by your name by Andre Aciman. New York Magazine calls him the "most exciting new fiction writer of the 21st Century" and so far I have only stopped reading when forced to. It is a beautiful, haunting book about the impact of love and time and the exploration of etymology from the perspective of the hindsight of a once 17 year old. Once I have finished it I shall attempt to write a review, although reading this one in the New York Times I am not sure it will be easy.

Grandparents

Catherine Bruton writes in today's Times about the importance of grandparents in a child's life, sharing two reader's experiences of their own relationship with their grandparents and that of their child to their own parents.

As the eldest of three daughters I remember, hazily, the day that my mother's father turned sixty. I would have been 3 or 4. M, the youngest son, watched his own father turn 60 last year; my father has the best part of a decade to go. I often wonder whether or not I will have a child to remember my father's 60th birthday. Yesterday, my mother's mother turned 80. M's only grandparent is 92. My grandparents have played a huge part in my life; I am lucky to have known all 4 as an adult. M in turn has only ever 'known' 1 yet her role has been large enough to more than make up for the absence of the other 3.

My maternal grandmother often refers to me as "her third daughter", when she isn't calling me the name of her son. Ironically, had I been a boy, she would have been correct. My maternal grandparents are more eccentric than my father's - Grannie still has waist long hair (pinned up into a bun for as long as I can remember, although photos suggest that this was not always the case), they are artists and their cottage is pretty much my favourite place on earth. From my maternal grandparents I have inherited a love of art, poetry, reading, the beauty of nature, appreciation of the very smallest things, of tea, of shadows and light. The importance of kindness, of love, of families, of displaying every day things as works of art, of Cornwall, Shropshire, stripy fabric bags, of Liberty fabrics, of making things rather than buying them, of card games. When I was small, Grannie wrote a book about the things we used to do together and Grandpa illustrated it. Every occasion is marked with a home-made card; every holiday encouraged to be sketched. I can tell my maternal grandparents things I cannot tell my parents - a tummy button piercing, leaving a long term partner, money worries. All have been discussed at length with Grannie & Grandpa over a telephone call well before the subject was broached with my parents. I can still remember the fury of my father when he received his quarterly BT statement to discover that I had chatted to them for over an hour at a ferry terminal on my way to a sailing trip, using his charge card (aged 16). To me it seemed the natural way to spend an hours wait - a cup of tea and a good discussion with Grannie & Grandpa. These days I tend to use my own mobile telephone though (with a contract with unlimited land line minutes, thankfully).

From my paternal grandparents I have inherited a love of Yorkshire, of sailing, the importance of good food, family support, sisterly bonds. Of gardening, reading, slushy films, of the closeness possible between parent & child even as adults. I think I learned more about family life from lying on the floor in the dark listening to Dad talk to his parents every few days than I ever did from discussions round the kitchen table. From Granny & Grandpa I learnt the importance of manners, and that vodka will give me lines. Every letter from Granny K ends "eat your greens" and once she even sent me a postcard with the amounts of fruit & veg illustrated courtesy of the NHS. It was stuck to the fridge in the kitchen throughout my time at university. Visits to Granny & Grandpa brought pocket money for sweets and once an illicit trip to McDonalds (if we promised not to tell Mummy)! Every month throughout university a cheque arrived, which I used to pay for broadband which would have been unaffordable otherwise, every week a notelet from Granny. Once, aged 6 or 7, during a particularly tasty bowl of ice-cream I was caught licking the remains. "That's ok in this house" warned Dad, "but not at Granny K's". Staying at their house last May bank holiday Granny repeated this behaviour, almost weeping with laughter when I told her what Dad used to say.

Mum's parents lived much nearer us when we were growing up - they used to come over once a week after school and collect us in their car (a VW camper van when I was tiny, replaced by a succession of Golfs) and take us back to our house for tea and, treat of treats, a packet of crisps. They would be waiting for us outside the school gates, with Snuff, their border terrier, sitting at their feet. We would play card games over a cup of tea. Later on, when Mum went back to work and we brought ourselves home from secondary school, Grannie and Grandpa would come over, still the same rituals. Now, aged 26, a trip home is not complete without a visit to or from Grannie & Grandpa. Dad's parents live in Yorkshire - a place synonymous for many years with Christmas and Easter. My first Easter not spent in Yorkshire came only after leaving university. Trips to Granny & Grandpa in Yorkshire were exciting - best dresses could be worn, Granny always cooked beautiful food, and still does. There was 'Grandpa Bread' to be eaten, which last visit he taught M how to make. There were mountains to be climbed and cattle auctions to be visited. Staying with Granny & Grandpa in Yorkshire is always a 'proper' holiday.

Writing this now, I feel so lucky to have had such an experience of 4 wonderful grandparents who have contributed so much to my life, and hopefully in return, I to them. I see so many similarities between the two sets of grandparents it can be no wonder that my parents fell in love. I have heard the stories of each set of parents meeting the new boyfriend/girlfriend - Dad turned up late at night on the back of a friend's motorbike, dressed head to toe in orange waterproofs and after introductions had been made was asked if he would like any food. His response - "a bowl of cereal", was so Dad, and at once he was part of the family. Mum, meeting Granny & Grandpa for the first time, had been invited up from Surrey during the holidays of their first term together at Oxford, only Dad had gone off caving and so Mum had to telephone and check she was still expected. Whatever Grandpa said to her reassured her and she too has felt part of their family from that moment on.

One day, I hope I will have children who will feel the same thing for my parents. To those who are fortunate to have grandparents, I think it is an incredibly important and special relationship.

You're Not The Only One - Buy It Now

Back in February I wrote about a book that a team of bloggers were putting together in aid of the charity Warchild (an international charity that "works with children affected by war in Afghanistan, Iraq, Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda. Our work with former child soldiers, children in prison and children living and working on the streets gives them support, protection and opportunities. To make sure we provide them with what they need we involve them directly in all our decision making.")

Well, after many months of submissions and editing by Peach the book is finally ready for you to buy.

And guess what? I'm in it. Story number 21. Something previously unpublished on this blog - an account of an experience which happened almost 19 years ago, the day the earth moved for me.

The book costs £12.50 and is available here from Lulu.com. Please consider buying it and reading the experiences that other bloggers (some of them published in their own right) have shared whilst raising money for a great cause.




Full list of contributors: 1. DBA Lehane2. Corinne Furness3. Village Idiot aka VI 4. Fringes5. LilliPilli6. Naomi Dunford7. Leigh Forbes8. Heather Hunter9. Fweng Ebola10. Sue11. Ani12. Anna Pickard13. Ree14. Desperate Sarah15. M.McEwen-Asker16. Paige Jennifer17. Cat18. Sarah J Peach19. Mike Atkinson20. Diane Mandy21. Rachel Goldsack22. Deborah Carr23. Jenny Maltby24. Helen Redfern25. Miss Smack26. The H Factor 27. Fat Controller 28. L.M.Noonan29. Kal30. Ronjazz31. Nicholas Grundy32. Rob Ryan33. Casdok34. DJ Kirkby35. Bone36. Kathryn Harriss37. Helen Dalby 38. Alex McGlin39. Kate Kingsley40. Miss Tickle41. Just A Girl42. Catherine Sanderson43. Enigma44. Tim Warren45. Kat Campbell 46. Daren Callow 47. Alan White 48. Zinnia Cyclamen 49. Tired Dad50. The Boy51. Swiss Toni52. Cliff Jones53. Fiona Williams54. Kate55. Isabelle56. An Unreliable Witness57. Dave Lozo58. Anne Byrne59. Micky McGuinness60. Phillip Copland61. Larry Teabag62. enidd63. Sugar00764. Ariel Langham65. Mr Angry66. The Overnight Editor67. Kristin68. Léonie Kate69. Barb McMahon70. Misssy M71. Meaghan Kearney72. Pat Mackay73. Swearing Mother74. Emma Kaufmann75. Angela La La76. Boy Does Life77. Guy Herbert78. Blue Soup79. Junior80. Curvy Girl81. Prada Pixie82. JH83. Ms Robinson84. Distracted Spunk85. Jane86. Jen87. The Boy Who Could But Didn’t88. Solarisgirl89. Beth Smith90. Wendy Christie91. Miss Diarist92. Colin93. Hope94. Enny95. Joanna96. Reluctant Memsahib97. Karen98. Stephanie Shaw99. Clarissa100. Susan P101. Debbie102. Crystal103. Scorpy104. Megan105. Uncle Norman106. Johnny B

Italy

Memories of Italy Part One:

The sight of the coast of England being left behind against the blue sea of the channel as we climbed upwards over France in the aeroplane

Leaving behind Milan, the motorway, smaller towns and then climbing higher and higher into the mountains before stopping. the engines cutting and the sound of grasshoppers, of wind in the grass, of dogs barking, of nothing.

The sound of the church bell across the valley striking the hour, a slightly higher pitched 'ting' denoting the half-hour, one church chiming the time about 4 minutes before the other.

On Sundays the haunting sound of choral music drifting across the valley in waves of sound, sometimes loud and clear before tailing off into a murmur on the wind, barely audible before rising again. It was a service, perhaps being broadcast to the workers in the fields.

Walking back from a beautiful meal in a restaurant with no menus and no prices, you ate what they offered you and drank their selection of wines. the road was so dark when a car came one of our party held up his lit blackberry so that we could be seen, even in white trousers on a still, cloudy moonless night we would have been no match for Italian drivers. feeling small in comparison to the blackness. seeing fire-flies darting around, dancing in the darkness to an unheard song, their tails like LEDs.

The low slung mist which wrapped the tops of the mountains as if in cotton wool and hung, ethereal, in the valleys, turning Italy into New Zealand or Japan, the dark greens of the mountains furring in focus as the lower clouds moved past

Truffles on pasta. local fizzy wine. espressos for one euro, glasses of wine for little more. cannelloni, meringue, home cooked beef, coq-au-vin, bread sticks,

Juliet's house in Verona being covered in graffiti with bunches of 'true-love' padlocks fasten to the gate like bunches of wine.