tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32865377904005802942024-03-11T03:21:08.956+00:00A Belly Full of Words An Online ScrapbookKate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.comBlogger513125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-82746246305113784412024-03-09T11:31:00.000+00:002024-03-09T11:31:14.697+00:00One Minute Book Reviews: Winter Reads <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADivZDKonKKb6kA2iLY6hrqO-N2oj4na4j755qMA19qCJyAEWLbMM1JFpAY-qHGuf-OE5K46mmQKqs12lOwpjIzl99VFHR7xoKXAd5UgOn_U50tKzStUuOkULkXqEgYgcS5Syj8Hi2fuHy-QUyfpX2JpILOPGcVi4htDlZNjc1OnhnkhA3by2t6MiFME/s4032/IMG_2728.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="One minute book reviews" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiADivZDKonKKb6kA2iLY6hrqO-N2oj4na4j755qMA19qCJyAEWLbMM1JFpAY-qHGuf-OE5K46mmQKqs12lOwpjIzl99VFHR7xoKXAd5UgOn_U50tKzStUuOkULkXqEgYgcS5Syj8Hi2fuHy-QUyfpX2JpILOPGcVi4htDlZNjc1OnhnkhA3by2t6MiFME/s16000/IMG_2728.jpeg" title="One minute book reviews" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">By chance, I’m writing this on World Book Day. My son is at nursery today; he doesn’t normally go on Thursdays, so I only realised I needed a <i>Where’s Wally </i>costume yesterday afternoon and as a result, my first attempt at the whole WBD costume shenanigans, which I’m learning is apparently a Big Deal in the parenting world, was not a success. Unless you count a black and white striped top and a grey bobble hat (both of which he wears all the time) as a success… <i>Where’s Wally: The Emo Years</i>? No? Ah well, there’s always next year. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Shall we talk about some books? <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Good Material by Dolly Alderton<br /></b> </p><p style="text-align: center;">We started the year with a good’un. A relationship break-up told from the male perspective: failing comedian Andy can’t understand why his ex-girlfriend Jen stopped loving him and why everyone around him seems to have grown up when he wasn’t looking. Completely adrift, he clings to the idea of solving the puzzle of his broken relationship. Really enjoyed this, it made me both chuckle and tear-up. Felt it perfectly captured both heartbreak and that time in your thirties where it feels like there’s a dramatic shift into adulthood, and friendships can seem much harder to maintain, but the male perspective was a fresher take on the themes. <b>4.5/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Sourdough by Robin Sloan </b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">A quirky little novel about Lois, a software engineer stuck in the daily grind, the only highlight of her day the sourdough sandwich she orders every night from two brothers running a hole-in-the-wall eatery. When the two brothers have to leave San Francisco due to visa issues, they leave their sourdough starter to their favourite customer and Lois must keep it alive and thus, her sourdough baking journey begins. This was a charming read, but I enjoyed the first half a lot more than the second. It went off on a slightly odd, fantastical tangent which I wasn’t entirely convinced by. <b>3/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>We Had To Remove This Post by Hanna Bervoets</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">A novella about a woman working as a content moderator for a social media platform. Her job involves reviewing offensive videos and pictures, rants and conspiracy theories, and deciding what needs to be removed. She spends all day viewing the very worst of humanity, but she’s made new friends and found a girlfriend amongst her colleagues so it’s not affecting her that bad. Or is it? I liked the premise of this and felt like it achieved the unsettling, low-level disturbing feeling the writer was probably aiming for, but the ending was so abrupt (almost like the author had simply just stopped writing) and unsatisfying that I was left feeling like I’d only read half the story. <b>3/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr<br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">I am ashamed to say I have had this book sat on my bookshelf for years, it has moved between three different homes, and I can’t believe this unread treasure was there all this time. The intertwining stories of a blind French girl and orphaned German boy trying to survive the devastation of World War II. When war breaks out, Marie-Laure and her father flee Paris to Saint-Malo where they accidentally become a part of the resistance. Meanwhile, Werner’s talent for building and fixing radios is enlisted to help bring down the resistance. Ultimately a story about all the ways that people, against all odds, try to be good to one another. The writing was beautiful, and I loved every detail. Honestly, I thought this was an absolute masterpiece of a novel. <b>5/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Piglet by Lottie Hazell <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">A word of warning: the food descriptions in this book are mouthwatering, so please do read with snacks to hand. Piglet (an unfortunate childhood nickname) has curated the perfect life for herself with her job as a cookbook editor, her upper-middle class fiancé, Kit, and her house in Oxford. But then Kit confesses to a betrayal thirteen days before their wedding. Torn between the life she has always wanted and the ravenous feeling that she is not getting what she deserves, Piglet and her perfect life begin to unravel. Told almost entirely through exquisitely described cooking scenes or excruciatingly detailed vignettes (the wedding dress scene, <i>oh my god</i>), the story examines class differences, a woman’s sometimes complicated relationship with food and the lies we tell ourselves. A very impressive debut. <b>5/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The Food Almanac Volume II by Miranda York<br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">From various writers and artists, a lovely collection of stories, recipes and illustrations for each month in the kitchen. A great gift should you have a foodie in your life (or for yourself if you’re the foodie). I enjoyed this just as much as Volume I and am hoping for a third. <b>4/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Dear Edward</i> is one of my favourite books of recent years so I was keen to pick up the author’s latest novel. Seemingly inspired by <i>Little Woman</i>, it tells the story of the four Padavano sisters growing up in Chicago in the 1970/80s. Julia, the eldest sister, marries William Waters, a rising basketball star, and has their lives perfectly planned out. But when William has a breakdown that Julia cannot understand, it is her sister Sylvie that becomes his confidant, and the ensuing betrayal will tear the sisters apart and effect generations to come. The author does characterisation so well; they were all believably flawed and human, and you can’t help but love and root for them. A beautiful family-saga. <b>5/5</b><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Happy reading folks x </p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-82023158743338188632024-02-29T21:20:00.000+00:002024-02-29T21:20:33.483+00:00February. <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOBhXB3rhp0iIQvW-SNBN7ET-0NIs8njInbBzT06wjVfwipJMBKgA8qeRUwWaK3hyphenhyphenMNxtwnDoV1azdWV_8nI2L0BupxiurwKgbeMLysSp9Xc2R3fRMZQAZ5y9rzELuPaCpxxXwAbKt33_iQQJ-jzvfausEa-SSuQ834MRkAStTDB5hHxm27d_Hkq1GbQ/s4032/IMG_2572.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="February" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGOBhXB3rhp0iIQvW-SNBN7ET-0NIs8njInbBzT06wjVfwipJMBKgA8qeRUwWaK3hyphenhyphenMNxtwnDoV1azdWV_8nI2L0BupxiurwKgbeMLysSp9Xc2R3fRMZQAZ5y9rzELuPaCpxxXwAbKt33_iQQJ-jzvfausEa-SSuQ834MRkAStTDB5hHxm27d_Hkq1GbQ/s16000/IMG_2572.jpeg" title="February" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Alfie’s first haircut. I am still not over how much older he looks. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">A trip up north. After a weekend staying with cats, Alfie now shouts ‘TAT’ and ‘MEOW’ every time he sees a cat, or a picture of a cat. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Driving down the motorway and seeing a family in the car next to us all laughing. </p><p style="text-align: center;">32 years around the sun. </p><p style="text-align: center;">A Thai massage. Not what I ordered but exactly what I needed. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Sushi lunch date. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Making my favourite Guinness cake because if you can’t bake your favourite cake on your birthday, when can you?</p><p style="text-align: center;">Pancake day! </p><p style="text-align: center;">Nine years together. </p><p style="text-align: center;">A woman with a neon pink umbrella on the greyest, wettest weather day. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The first hints of spring; magnolia buds, white blossom, daffodils.</p><p style="text-align: center;">A lunch date with my gal, the best kind of catch up where it’s like no time has passed. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Lighter evenings. </p><p style="text-align: center;">New babies joining the gang. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Baking with my boy for the first time. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Alife’s first babyccino. The milk moustache was spectacular. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Alfie calling birds ‘tweets tweets’. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-64570723447391478342024-02-16T16:29:00.000+00:002024-02-16T16:29:09.205+00:00Twelve Months Of Stories: On Motherhood, Writing, Being Selfish<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDb15PJNiiLgHgp9hs-shBismunbfqP2rn0gAiQuPdxyuyzOE1llStDxtjwb9u8TKfPQ6Da18MgxqaqWluQXFzD5LJFvNTT_JxkjyIFt8kyYlzEek1IobHOP2o2fJAwH39gOxZdeczLrD6Iu4tRirtcrbEKI3rJGVVfWz91W21ThjQKFgicRLQgZqtXo/s5712/IMG_2533.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="12 months of stories" border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDb15PJNiiLgHgp9hs-shBismunbfqP2rn0gAiQuPdxyuyzOE1llStDxtjwb9u8TKfPQ6Da18MgxqaqWluQXFzD5LJFvNTT_JxkjyIFt8kyYlzEek1IobHOP2o2fJAwH39gOxZdeczLrD6Iu4tRirtcrbEKI3rJGVVfWz91W21ThjQKFgicRLQgZqtXo/s16000/IMG_2533.jpeg" title="12 months of stories" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">“I obviously have to tell you that this will affect your salary, pension…” she said with a sympathetic smile, and I nodded resignedly. I’m sat in our spare room on a video call with my line manager whilst on maternity leave. My mum is downstairs with my baby whilst I request to no longer work full time. I have mixed feelings. I have no doubt that I want to be a big part of the village that is going to be caring for my son during the working week, but the financial sacrifice was a hard one to swallow. If I went back to work full time, our monthly childcare bill would have been nearly my entire take-home pay, if I went back to work part time, I lost half my wage & pension but gained the same amount in a monthly childcare bill and if I didn’t go back at all, we had no childcare bill but only one household income. Oh, and needless to say, my husband earns more money than I do so we could not afford for him to drop his hours, despite him being willing to do so. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">We discussed it endlessly, went around the houses, had a lot of back-and-forth etc etc, before eventually settling on me working three days a week. It was a precarious balancing act of what we could afford, what availability the nursery had and what was our actual preference (in that order). We arranged three days of childcare and then I finally sat down with work to put my request in. We registered our child at nursery before he was even born and still didn’t get the days we wanted so at this stage, I assumed getting approval from work would be the easy bit. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">And then I was told that I <i>could </i>come back part time, but it had to be two and a half days a week. For reasons I won’t bore you with, this made sense from the perspective of my employer and the way my job works <i>but</i> I hadn’t accounted for it, and I felt the pre-emptive blow of having even less money than we’d planned for. I was too busy thinking about the money that it took me a while to realise that this would mean I would have one afternoon a week where I was neither working nor looking after my son. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Funny how sometimes life just presents you with opportunities. At first, I claimed I would absolutely use that afternoon to be the best “housewife”; I was going to get on top of the washing, do the food shop, keep the house tidy… (sorry husband!) But then I realised that, if I was willing to be selfish, I <i>could </i>use that one afternoon a week to write. Something I love, something that I have needed to do since I was a child in order to feel most like myself, something that I’d had such little opportunity to do since my son was born. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">That first week, slipping into my favourite café with my laptop, completely alone, I was both exhilarated at doing something just for myself and overwhelmed with guilt. Was I a bad mother for doing something so luxurious whilst my son was at nursery? I wasn’t earning money (although I was paying the nursery fees regardless), I was technically available to be looking after him. Should I not be doing something more… useful? Probably pretty typical thoughts of a mother under the expectations of a 2023 society. So, here’s what I learnt (because I didn’t cave to those thoughts and spent 99% of Wednesday afternoons sat in a café writing during 2023): that one afternoon a week was the single best thing I could have done for my mental health and my ability to be a loving and calm parent. I am in such a better place than I was this time year and I massively credit that with having just a small slice of time to pour into my favourite creative outlet and the thing that keeps me feeling grounded. I learnt that regardless of what you do, the society we live is always going to push mother’s to be 100% self-sacrificing so you may as well do the thing that keeps you sane. Because a sane and happy mother is far better for a child than a mother who can’t breathe because she’s trying to keep up with unrealistic and exhausting expectations. No one is a bad parent for taking time for themselves. In fact, they are often much better parents as a result. And I can’t emphasise this enough: if you pay for childcare and do something <i>other</i> than working your day job, that does not – in any way shape or form – make you some kind of neglectful parent. Chances are, you’re paying for that time regardless (we pay 52 weeks of the year regardless of holidays, what time we pick him up, bank holidays, illness, whether we’re working or not working). Bloody hell, if you’re paying for your child to be in nursery when they’re ill or old Charlie is having his coronation, you may as well pay for it to have some time for yourself. I know I am lucky, I ended up with this time by accident and it makes no difference to our finances whether I use it for myself or pick up my son from nursery early. But I also refuse to feel any sense of guilt for that luck. My only wish is that my husband could have the same thing. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I set myself a challenge: one short story a month for the year, post the messy, first draft <a href="https://open.substack.com/pub/kateashmore?r=4ni3a&utm_medium=ios" target="_blank">online</a> to hold yourself accountable. I hadn’t written that much in years (covid, pregnancy, newborn baby) and the idea of sharing early drafts is terrifying for any writer, let alone putting it on the internet. But I did it. It was a real lesson in what you can do when you only have a tiny amount of time once a week. I could not procrastinate, because that time wouldn’t come round for another seven days. I wrote quickly, and furiously and messily. My favourite café learnt my name and order and asked me how I was. I met other writers and discovered a local writer’s group. I remembered why I love the act of making up stories, writing down words so much. I remembered that Kate, pre-motherhood Kate, was still there and had a lot of shit she still wanted to do. She’d just been a bit tired and all-consumed by this brown-eyed, blonde-haired whirlwind that had landed into her life one Christmas Eve. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I don’t know how long this option will be available to me, but I intend to cling onto it with both hands for as long as it is. Thank you to everyone who has read and been so kind about my messy first drafts (and if you want to catch up on them, you can do so here). I haven’t quite yet worked out what <a href="https://open.substack.com/pub/kateashmore?r=4ni3a&utm_medium=ios" target="_blank">my Substack page </a>will be in 2024 but I do know I am going to keep posting, so you can probably expect more stories and more food writing as a starting point. I’d love for you to <a href="https://open.substack.com/pub/kateashmore?r=4ni3a&utm_medium=ios" target="_blank">join me</a>. </p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-13130041876892436172024-01-31T17:16:00.000+00:002024-01-31T17:16:05.758+00:00January. <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33903pucnGbCnS1XanErvIrZcLBelXXTw1RiuFtIypcwnXIO_pTFatKv1bCj5e0ooRJAbA4nV7NfTgKOLcHDJeNJo6S4YdPULLS6QyUGgLtxnGPc7NWyPTrhPPYja6qtuwwnsR15T_UqdvzhMmlKB0PIqkfD0a1Do7gXNqnv-Tr66I3P674k-cbXI7t4/s4032/IMG_2327.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="January" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33903pucnGbCnS1XanErvIrZcLBelXXTw1RiuFtIypcwnXIO_pTFatKv1bCj5e0ooRJAbA4nV7NfTgKOLcHDJeNJo6S4YdPULLS6QyUGgLtxnGPc7NWyPTrhPPYja6qtuwwnsR15T_UqdvzhMmlKB0PIqkfD0a1Do7gXNqnv-Tr66I3P674k-cbXI7t4/s16000/IMG_2327.jpeg" title="January" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">That fresh new year feeling, new possibilities. </div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Sushi lunch for mum’s birthday. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Baking two birthday cakes. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Easing into the year. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Lots of freshly baked bread. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Pale winter light. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Candles that smell like baked goods. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Toddler birthday parties.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Brilliant British television. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Finalising and booking my sister’s hen do. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Tabby McTat on repeat. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Catching up with my auntie. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Book vouchers burning a hole in my pocket. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Dinner in London with an old friend. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The loveliest afternoon at a National Trust place with old friends and our babies. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Catching up with family friends. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Flowers from my sister after a rubbish week at work. </p><p style="text-align: center;">A lunch date in Cambridge; pizza and bookshop browsing.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Cosy, gentle, slow after the busyness of December.</p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-41625215167985242192024-01-21T15:41:00.002+00:002024-01-21T20:14:52.528+00:00One Minute Book Reviews: What I’ve Been Reading This Autumn & Festive Season<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMGt9tFH879wssAfvyLD97PND0A279ych1EKev630ub19RaAG1qSRgZlY9qhDcXs2Or28B0H4xpngnhBWnDmgC0bTtInZvRulYJL5wUe_egzp2VhdpjbQ6HBeQhETZlhthKSvjvYxzoTK9rts9t6g4x7zD5mMqqT51rl6MV2v7EQyi-0B-MU2-mIp52k/s4032/B52EEA77-9B0C-4FB4-9091-AEE96BD707FD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Autumn book reviews" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMGt9tFH879wssAfvyLD97PND0A279ych1EKev630ub19RaAG1qSRgZlY9qhDcXs2Or28B0H4xpngnhBWnDmgC0bTtInZvRulYJL5wUe_egzp2VhdpjbQ6HBeQhETZlhthKSvjvYxzoTK9rts9t6g4x7zD5mMqqT51rl6MV2v7EQyi-0B-MU2-mIp52k/s16000/B52EEA77-9B0C-4FB4-9091-AEE96BD707FD.jpeg" title="Autumn book reviews" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><div style="text-align: center;">Last year, as part of trying to get my mental health in a good place and just generally feel like myself again, I set myself a challenge of reading 40 books. I’d never set myself a reading challenge before; I felt reading should be purely for pleasure and not some kind of competition to read as much as possible. But my frazzled mind wanted to give myself a bit of a kick up the bum to do more of what I love and – quite frankly – use the best tool I have found to a) keep my mental health in a good place and b) stop rotting my brain through the act of scrolling on my phone. So, whilst it wasn’t really about the number (although I was halfway through my 37th book when the new year rang in, if you’re interested), I found having a number a good nudge into good habits. And it really worked! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I also changed how I shopped for books this year. I really made an effort to support my local bookshop over shopping on amazon for example. But there’s no denying that books are getting more and more expensive (so many new hardbacks recently coming out between £17 and £20. TWENTY POUNDS. For one book!), so 2023 was also the year I started shopping for second-hand books. And once I realised I could shop for books on Vinted, I knew I was going to be in trouble. It’s so addictive! That dopamine hit though when you discover a book you’ve been hankering after brand new for three quid. It’s like a little treasure hunt. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I’ve set myself the same challenge for 2024 but before I crack on, these are my final reads of 2023 and there are some real good’uns. I finally jumped on the <i>Babel </i>bandwagon, fell in love with <i>The Berry Pickers </i>and pushed <i>Strange Sally Diamond </i>into several hands. Let’s dive in shall we? </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div><b>The List by Yomi Adegoke</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>High profile journalist at a feminist magazine, Ola, and her fiancé Micheal are ‘couple goals’ on social media. That is until one morning, they both wake up to find that Micheal’s name has appeared on a viral list of men accused of predatory behaviour. I can imagine this being a great book for a book club. The nuances and the grey areas would make for some hearty discussions. I personally didn’t enjoy this as much as I wanted to because I found the characters quite dislikable, and I ended up caring less and less about what was true and what would happen to them as a couple. I also found the ‘twist’ at the end dissatisfying. But, having said that, it’s a book that races along and offers a lot of insight into the current cultures surrounding social media and cancel culture. 3/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Madly, Deeply: The Alan Rickman Diaries </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>If you’re unaware, Alan Rickman kept diaries pretty consistently for a lot of his adult life and you can now have them all on your bookshelf. To read something so personal over the course of 20+ years of his life, to see his ordinary every day and his extraordinary stories with huge names and unique experiences made for a truly fascinating read. My only gripe with it was I felt like the editor had been a little selective on where he provided explanations; some footnotes felt obvious and others felt lacking and needed more context. It feels weird to rate someone’s diaries but if I was, I’d rate the diaries five stars and the overall reading experience four. Would definitely recommend. 4/5</div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Zero Altitude by Helen Coffey</b> </div><div><br /></div><div>Travel journalist, travel lover and frequent flyer Helen Coffey challenged herself to go flight-free for a year. Part journalistic investigation into just how bad flying is for the environment (really, <i>really</i> bad, and no, offsetting does not make up for it) and part memoir about the incredible travel experiences she had whilst keeping her feet firmly on the ground. This is a great book for those who are interested in changing the way they travel and want to know more about why they should, but it’s also an incredibly reassuring tale of why going flight free does not mean sacrificing experiences, even for the biggest travel enthusiast. And yes, she’s still flight free now. 4/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Shadow Cabinet by Juno Dawson </b></div><div><br /></div><div>The second in the <i>Her Majesty’s Royal Coven</i> series, we pick up with the same characters exactly where we left off. I really like the concept of this series (modern day witches) and the characters are enjoyable to read but the plot felt all over the place and it felt like the story could have been considerably shorter. 2.5/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Strange Sally Diamond by Liz Nugent </b></div><div><br /></div><div>This book opens with the main character, Sally, following her father’s wishes – putting him out with the rubbish after he died. I mean, what an opening! Now at the centre of a media storm and being questioned by the police, she begins to discover the horrors of her childhood and we delve right into decades-old mysteries. I read this around Halloween, and it certainly fitted the bill for thrills and horror. I read it in twenty-four hours because I was so hooked, and I loved being with the main character and the unique way she viewed the world. 4/5</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>The Berry Pickers by Amanda Peters </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>A four-year-old Mi’kmaq girl called Ruthie goes missing from the blueberry fields of Maine sparking a tragic mystery that will haunt her family, unravel a community and remain unsolved for nearly fifty years. Meanwhile, a young girl named Norma grows up as the only child of an affluent family often troubled by recurring dreams, unanswered questions and the just-can’t-shake-feeling that there’s something her parents aren’t telling her. I can’t tell you how brilliant I thought this book was. It’s not a mystery – you as the reader can figure out what has happened of course – instead, it’s an emotional story about the resilient power of family and hope. The characters of Ruthie and Joe were so engaging, and you desperately wanted them to be reunited. Beautiful book. 5/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros </b></div><div><br /></div><div>The second book in the Empyrean series about dragon riders at Basgiath war college. I was hooked by the first one and found the second very enjoyable. I think you could tell that this was perhaps written in a bit of a rush, and I can see why some might have been a little disappointed by it when comparing to the first book, but I love the world and the characters enough to happily go along for the ride. I’m looking forward to the next in the series. 4/5</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Babel: An Arcane History by R.F. Kaung</b></div><div><br /></div><div><i>What a book!</i> There was a lot of hype around this book, but I actually read <i>Yellowface</i>, Kaung’s latest novel, before I read this. I was amazed at how different the two novels were. Kaung is definitely an exciting author to watch (she’s also ridiculously young for her level of achievements and makes me feel like I’m underperforming in life!). It is set in a fantastical version of 1828 where the British empire is built on enchanted silver bars, which work through the art of manifesting the meaning of words lost in translation. Brought from Canton by the mysterious Professor Lovell, after his mother dies from cholera, Robin Swift spends his childhood preparing to enrol in Oxford University’s prestigious Royal Institute of Translation, otherwise known as Babel. But working for Babel inevitably means betraying his motherland and as Robin starts to become more and more conflicted, the questions is: can a student bring down an empire? I wanted to savour everything about this book: the cobbled streets of a fantasy Oxford, the flawed but loveable characters, the gorgeous writing, the detailed footnotes. That ending though; I’m still not recovered from the final hundred pages. 5/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Falling by T.J. Newman </b></div><div><br /></div><div>I read T.J. Newman’s second novel <i>Drowning</i> and really enjoyed it, but I have to say, I was a little disappointed by her first novel. A pilot’s family are taken hostage and will be killed unless he deliberately crashes the plane he is flying from LA to New York, with 200+ people on board. Whilst I had no idea what would happen in <i>Drowning</i>, I found this predictable and a little too much like a cheesy American film. It was entertaining enough but I think Newman's plotlines have improved since her first book. 2.5/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Love and other human errors by Bethany Clift </b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Bethany Clift’s first novel, <i>Last One At The Party</i>, was one of my favourite books of 2023 so I had to pick up her second novel. Set in the near future, we follow Indiana Dylan and the soulmate program she has invented. Blackmailed into proving the efficiency of the programme by being her own guinea pig, her carefully ordered life is thrown into chaos. This is a different and fresh take on the romcom genre, quirky and funny with loveable robots: what’s not to like? 4/5</div><div><br /></div><div><b>The Wake-Up Call by Beth O’Leary</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Izzy and Lucus, sworn enemies, work at the failing Forest Manor Hotel. The hotel hasn’t recovered from Covid, money is running out and the ceiling is quite literally falling in. When Izzy returns a guest’s lost wedding ring, the sizable reward convinces management that this could be their Christmas miracle. With four more rings still sat in lost property, the race is on for Izzy and Lucas to save their beloved hotel. And of course, they don’t stay enemies for long. I love a Beth O’Leary novel. And a Beth O’Leary novel <i>set at Christmas</i>? You couldn’t ask for a better joyous and festive read. 4/5</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy reading folks x </div></div></div><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-9473332640685902122024-01-18T20:01:00.014+00:002024-01-20T07:37:22.559+00:0024 For 2024<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OEqkzxCep8iksUTFwhZuWisjyeLkxkbpjBteU1Nv3jg620iqERqmGMGwm1WBmSufnyB6YHEKXWLXrt-BYRIs1q6-ZWjn1A3bLFI94RXl4XICVQvIXIt4Mc9dkV9JJtW8dWmdXC7AY950HrKkJE_LUkqlL2B0FJllSfxY0pMNOtH5Hq2PPz6ogEN1IT4/s4032/IMG_2197.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="New year goals" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OEqkzxCep8iksUTFwhZuWisjyeLkxkbpjBteU1Nv3jg620iqERqmGMGwm1WBmSufnyB6YHEKXWLXrt-BYRIs1q6-ZWjn1A3bLFI94RXl4XICVQvIXIt4Mc9dkV9JJtW8dWmdXC7AY950HrKkJE_LUkqlL2B0FJllSfxY0pMNOtH5Hq2PPz6ogEN1IT4/s16000/IMG_2197.jpeg" title="New year goals" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> Is it still acceptable to say ‘happy new year’? When does that stop? Mid Jan? Anyway, happy 2024! (I accidentally wrote 2014 there, which made me realise that 2014 was TEN years ago. <i>What the?!</i>) Hope you had a lovely festive season. Are the dregs of your quality street still lingering around the house? Because same. Fellow parents – have you watched <i>Tabby McTat</i> eight million times? Because same.<br /><br /></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">You all know I love the new year reset; a chance to reflect on the last twelve months and think about what I want for the next. 2023 was a good year on the whole. The start of the year felt like a bit of a fresh start because Alfie started nursery and I went back to work after a year of maternity leave. It felt like we began to find a better balance between parenting and, well, everything else. My aim for the year was to invest more time into our relationship and into my wellbeing, and I really feel like I laid some solid foundations. Nothing was perfect of course, the first half of the year was still blighted by horrendous sleep deprivation, but I carved out more time to write, read, bake, exercise and I think apart from one month, we stuck to our resolution of monthly date nights. And as the year went on, the combination of these things and gaining more sleep, helped us feel more ourselves again. I also really, really enjoyed Alfie turning into a toddler. Every parent enjoys different stages but if you’re currently struggling a little in the baby stage and everyone is telling you that toddlers are nightmare, please be reassured that I would take the toddler any day. I mean, sure, they are mini dictators to an unreal level. But it’s been such joy seeing him slowly turn into a little person and being able to communicate more. He’s so <i>funny</i>, with the most expressive brown eyes and dance moves so bad they are good. Watching him go from two to three is one of the things I am looking forward to the most this year.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Outside of motherhood, <b>organisation</b>, <b>wellbeing</b> and<b> joy</b> are what I’m hoping for in 2024. Because it’s finally time to admit that we are drowning in life & house admin that have been neglected in the last two years and that I have become new levels of shit at replying to messages. Because now that I’ve got myself back to a good place, I’d like it to continue and, similarly, I want to enjoy this feeling and this phase of life as much as possible. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div><b>Organisation </b> <br /><br /></div><div>1. Use the first quarter of the year to tackle life admin tasks that have been sat on the list forever.<br /><br /></div><div>2. WhatsApp at 0 by the end of the day. <br /><br /></div><div>3. Tackle the bedroom renovations and move Alfie into a bigger bedroom.<br /> </div><div>4. Write a list of birthdays and organise birthday cards at the beginning of each month. <br /><br /></div><div>5. Tackle the house admin, room by room. <br /><br /></div><div>6. Put together Alfie’s memory box. <br /><br /></div><div>7. Ten-minute tidy around the house at the end of the day. <br /><br /></div><div>8. Lunch meal planning. <br /><br /></div><div>9. Stay on top of photos, backing up and putting into photo albums on a regular basis. </div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Joy<br /><br /></b></div><div>10. Read 40 books and continue buying second hand and supporting independent bookshops as much as possible.<br /><br /></div><div>11. Big family holiday in Camber Sands! <br /><br /></div><div>12. Continue weekly writing sessions.<br /><br /></div><div>13. My sister’s hen do, and wedding! <br /><br /></div><div>14. Make baking more adventurous and challenging this year. Teach myself new things, try things that seem beyond my skills, try pastry, try sourdough from scratch and – the biggest challenge yet – my sister’s wedding cake! <br /><br /></div><div>15. A special trip to celebrate our five-year wedding anniversary.<br /><br /></div><div>16. Write recipes down in recipe notebook. <br /><br /></div><div>17. Visit somewhere new in the UK for our family summer holiday. <br /><br /></div><div><b>Wellbeing <br /><br /></b></div><div>18. Remember to floss teeth and practice good ear care. Forking out £45 the day before new year for an emergency ear appointment was not the one. <br /><br /></div><div>19. Continue to build on my workout routine, with a focus on how it makes me feel and what I enjoy.<br /> </div><div>20. Keep a journal.<br /> </div><div>21. More seasonal and varied eating.<br /> </div><div>22. Do exercises for injured ankle.<br /> </div><div>23. Be more mindful with phone usage, particularly around Alfie, and checking social media only once a day. <br /><br /></div><div>24. Big things may be coming this year. I can see them lingering on the horizon, all sorts of weather that may or may not pass my way. Anxiously trying to predict it or worrying about what may happen is not going to help. Take a deep breath and go with it. What will be will be. <br /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Hope you have good things ahead this year dear reader x </div></div></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-8854812820938636982023-12-31T15:02:00.004+00:002023-12-31T15:02:49.699+00:00Recent Happy Things | Autumn & Festive Edition <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ZqMUfdjtQvodPXQtiV-DilmkDV2ia2m_-QIPbrgBK8SRi-m4U7TmOpH2EL7FjoEiAo57srkuObZj7hFDM0dhlYzc6lQT7PCEdG9bZNmS5HGW2WkcceFqb_1E0brmFmbPCjv0rtA_JJ4LuOqE18l6nuWkvuPL99T56CF5mKAzL1nrEoV2rO_CvIod5xE/s4032/40183297-2EA5-495E-B872-199C4885650E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Recent happy things" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ZqMUfdjtQvodPXQtiV-DilmkDV2ia2m_-QIPbrgBK8SRi-m4U7TmOpH2EL7FjoEiAo57srkuObZj7hFDM0dhlYzc6lQT7PCEdG9bZNmS5HGW2WkcceFqb_1E0brmFmbPCjv0rtA_JJ4LuOqE18l6nuWkvuPL99T56CF5mKAzL1nrEoV2rO_CvIod5xE/s16000/40183297-2EA5-495E-B872-199C4885650E.jpeg" title="Recent happy things" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> I’m writing this in the run up to Christmas and the irony that we are about to celebrate a time of love and peace is not lost on me. It is very hard not to look at the news right now and come to the, not particularly unreasonable conclusion, that the world is fucked. The utterly horrifying situation in Gaza and the government looking the other way, the government investing in fossil fuels whilst scientists could not make it more obvious that climate change is going to have truly devastating effects if we don’t act… just the government in general really. Although I suppose I can’t blame them for Matthew Perry dying, which I was far more emotional about than I care to admit. RIP Chnandler Bong. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I know this is an extremely lucky and privileged position to be in, but sometimes I find it very hard to make sense in my head that so many awful things can be happening in the world, but I also still need to go to work, think about what needs adding to the weekly shop and wrestle my toddler into his highchair to the dulcet soundtrack of <i>Hey Duggee.</i> That there can be so much suffering and yet we’re wrapping presents and planning cheeseboards. My life, writing a list of the good things in it, all just feels very <i>silly</i> in comparison. I want to hold onto all the joy available to me but please know, I know the below is privileged and a result of the sheer luck of being where I am in the world. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Conker hunting </b>– I’m not sure I’ll ever get over seeing my baby experience something for the first time. Our favourite playground has a conker tree (let’s brush over questionable health & safety of a conker tree hanging over a child’s slide) and when I introduced Alfie to the concept of hunting conkers, despite my low expectations, he was immediately engaged and we spent well over an hour collecting conkers and putting them in his pockets, taking them out his pockets… and repeat. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Lunch @ Sky Garden</b> – a day trip to London that involved having fancy lunch with views across the city. What’s not to like? <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2023/11/lunch-sky-garden-london.html" target="_blank">More here</a>. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Meeting my best friend’s baby</b> – I don’t think I will ever get over seeing my oldest friends become parents. It is so joyous and so <i>wait we’re the parents now?!</i> all wrapped up in one squishy newborn cuddle. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>My first night away –</b> I left Alfie overnight for the first time (with his Dad, not alone with the local takeaway number) and I tell you what, getting to have a proper catch up with all my girls without needing to keep one eye on what chaos my toddler is creating was just delightful.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Holiday at home </b>– a good combination of life admin, a day trip, a couple of meals out. Obviously, the toddler got a temperature one of the days because it is the apparent rule that if you make plans without your child, they will immediately time their illness for that exact day. <i>How do they know? </i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ELsR_me8a1yPue8defNnM9X4YwmMd8woHZ-cNdajTbjaJynnBb_i_tifA1KfhkGIZyrN36a9_JsonygAgaOXc4ZJ3OGlIt-C2U3vvWqU4zvucT23UPvx_-o3dbtoQ4woSpVvtcFQODsbqTgujaLrylSZe2tLmgxiDsb4eRqZ2rOCyDF50B_Sw-LqrSI/s4032/C48168C7-A0A3-40F9-8234-943B699C5B2C.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Recent happy things" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ELsR_me8a1yPue8defNnM9X4YwmMd8woHZ-cNdajTbjaJynnBb_i_tifA1KfhkGIZyrN36a9_JsonygAgaOXc4ZJ3OGlIt-C2U3vvWqU4zvucT23UPvx_-o3dbtoQ4woSpVvtcFQODsbqTgujaLrylSZe2tLmgxiDsb4eRqZ2rOCyDF50B_Sw-LqrSI/s16000/C48168C7-A0A3-40F9-8234-943B699C5B2C.jpeg" title="Recent happy things" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6x9FeCSb8vs7pFVzeh5w6O5oUA1wZkT3xJpfdxOWURsVTnYiVRb3KRuaPUJd6ezO80nTQRF0Gxwsec35xO5tvXJNSQ2vdGslroyJWt0DNvLRvK-qzNYCPDqyXX8R_Jyk3DRSR9i3uguZXO8RHAahZJi0fey16Arnx7m56DBoRgOODcqnYV3YRbB8zpJU/s4032/02FDC3FD-461A-4117-8F11-4536480DB567.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Recent happy things" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6x9FeCSb8vs7pFVzeh5w6O5oUA1wZkT3xJpfdxOWURsVTnYiVRb3KRuaPUJd6ezO80nTQRF0Gxwsec35xO5tvXJNSQ2vdGslroyJWt0DNvLRvK-qzNYCPDqyXX8R_Jyk3DRSR9i3uguZXO8RHAahZJi0fey16Arnx7m56DBoRgOODcqnYV3YRbB8zpJU/s16000/02FDC3FD-461A-4117-8F11-4536480DB567.jpeg" title="Recent happy things" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdZjLvUGCSMJ7S2G4CcyeqSSXpIgIhIB6nkeO8a33Z3IdR_zx3z9wZ4iZ6Vd87UO7ZuTeNEbrgu1ezZwv2dvSM_WMdAfL1Grw2JkrVt3q-2kWUvwcl8EC_vQPH3qYPQM9xYYaTMadxP1sRyvHP4p7GBKIiOerclhG8Uu-4aH2Vdynr-otlu_Usio1-Wo/s4032/D194DAB3-2463-4803-9B4B-840E1BB744AC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Recent happy things" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdZjLvUGCSMJ7S2G4CcyeqSSXpIgIhIB6nkeO8a33Z3IdR_zx3z9wZ4iZ6Vd87UO7ZuTeNEbrgu1ezZwv2dvSM_WMdAfL1Grw2JkrVt3q-2kWUvwcl8EC_vQPH3qYPQM9xYYaTMadxP1sRyvHP4p7GBKIiOerclhG8Uu-4aH2Vdynr-otlu_Usio1-Wo/s16000/D194DAB3-2463-4803-9B4B-840E1BB744AC.jpeg" title="Recent happy things" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxLCGgO-o0VJQ77c6eXYvdGxqpvPwRX3Gf6NAJlHeFMybNBtdo3WIhNhRpdm2YnHFecbVumjx1zkJPtZqUiZtCBLPE0GoNyAG1mbxeb8iHmRghojHyzsZTfYbKi_HfrvBiFGlMPcgb07UT1s9Hvfj1L-3nEhtnCB375HDX3OJ4iPQKqByccYzCh39JHA/s1969/6DECEBBB-3B7D-40A4-8601-EF0FA7F543A5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Recent happy things" border="0" data-original-height="1969" data-original-width="1597" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxLCGgO-o0VJQ77c6eXYvdGxqpvPwRX3Gf6NAJlHeFMybNBtdo3WIhNhRpdm2YnHFecbVumjx1zkJPtZqUiZtCBLPE0GoNyAG1mbxeb8iHmRghojHyzsZTfYbKi_HfrvBiFGlMPcgb07UT1s9Hvfj1L-3nEhtnCB375HDX3OJ4iPQKqByccYzCh39JHA/s16000/6DECEBBB-3B7D-40A4-8601-EF0FA7F543A5.jpeg" title="Recent happy things" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Pumpkin patch </b>– we had a very lovely trip to the pumpkin patch (<a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2023/10/to-the-pumpkin-patch.html" target="_blank">more here</a>), and it was a lot of fun to see how much more Alfie could engage with this year. I also very much enjoyed the pumpkin bread I made with the leftover pumpkin – autumn in a cake. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Bonfire night</b> – It’s been <strike>eighty</strike>-four years since I last went to a firework display thanks to Covid/newborn baby etc so I was really very excited to do Bonfire night again this year. So keen that I went to buy tickets for our local display the moment they were announced and the guy in the shop didn’t even know they were selling them. Awkward. Alfie was not entirely convinced by the loud noises, but he was mesmerised by the bonfire and seemed to love being out late, the atmosphere and all the kids with various light-up toys, so we’ll take that as a win. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Getting ahead for Christmas</b> - last year was a learning curve about what it means to have a child born at Christmas time. My main conclusions: get ahead and properly plan if you actually want to enjoy the festivities during December. And we all know how much I love those festivities. I’m still feeling the pressure, I’m not going to lie, but we did have all the presents bought by the end of November and that has definitely made a difference. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The start of the festivities </b>– ooo I do love this time of year. The tree is up, the house smells of vanilla and cinnamon, it is highly likely you will trip over a pile of baubles (Alfie likes to pull three of the tree at a time and then leave them in little piles around the house, usually in dangerous places like the middle of the stairs) and I have the overwhelming feeling that I just want to curl up on the sofa and eat mince pies. It’s a hinderance when you work from home, let me tell you. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Our first night away</b> – it happened! Gary and I left Alfie with his grandparents and had our first night together without him. I love that kid, but it was absolute bliss. <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2023/12/our-first-night-away-sans-baby-24-hours-in-norwich.html" target="_blank">More here</a>. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Candles and cosy vibes </b>- I have no shame in admitting that one of my favourite things to do at this time of year is draw the blinds, light a candle and watch some good telly from under a blanket. TV is so good this time of year. Equally, so is reading a book from under a blanket with a candle burning and some kind of baked good by my side. Basically, everything is better with a blanket and a candle. On one of the first evenings of October, there was biblical levels of rain, and I grabbed my book, blanket and candle and got onto the sofa with a contented sigh. It was a real vibe until a spider the size of my head loomed out from under the sofa. I mean technically, that is in keeping with the spooky season, but I was categorically NOT HERE FOR IT. The logical conclusion was to burn the house down, but my long-suffering official spider-remover (otherwise known as my husband) evicted the beast from the premises and I could get back to my cosy vibes. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Hope you’re doing okay dear reader. I hope you had a merry Christmas and a happy new year x</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-11351168026630308482023-12-30T22:18:00.002+00:002024-01-18T11:38:14.775+00:00Our First Night Away Sans Baby: 24 Hours In Norwich <p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxBDNVJPIcp4Axux5EK5kD9lOWP1b5DE-bqEQkQ1KigbDpxhTd5dO_ABVTQKvmQBOGQRiOcd8tKdnZJYDlMqkNFiVqTBQn7Mgi-pDkbDezPNOlj5XXNqiKtEaM4NQfG7RnapPO8Xl_mtXQdAvo-AeJn5PRZyD35ivrEzde1kSVEK1QwafiQr6UqhKtAY/s4032/IMG_1872.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxBDNVJPIcp4Axux5EK5kD9lOWP1b5DE-bqEQkQ1KigbDpxhTd5dO_ABVTQKvmQBOGQRiOcd8tKdnZJYDlMqkNFiVqTBQn7Mgi-pDkbDezPNOlj5XXNqiKtEaM4NQfG7RnapPO8Xl_mtXQdAvo-AeJn5PRZyD35ivrEzde1kSVEK1QwafiQr6UqhKtAY/s16000/IMG_1872.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">It feels like a bit of a milestone to go away overnight without your baby for the first time after becoming parents. Whilst we have both individually left Alfie overnight, we hadn’t both left him at the same time and for practical reasons it has taken us nearly two years to get the opportunity. But finally, the other week, we left out boy with his Granny & Grandad (he started playing tractors with his Grandad and barely gave us a backwards glance) and drove off to Norwich. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">We first went to Norwich last year as our <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2022/05/city-break-with-baby-norwich.html" target="_blank">first trip together as a family of three</a> and immediately loved it. Ever since, Gary has pushed to go back just the two of us, partly because he was haunted by a particularly good looking pub we couldn’t go to due to the presence of a three month old. I was initially hesitant about going back somewhere we had already been (there was <i>quite</i> the temptation to do something lavish and far away), but I was persuaded on the point that the purpose of the trip was to spend quality time together. It being just an hour away meant we didn’t have to waste much of our twenty-four hours travelling and we could get back quickly should a night at Granny & Grandad’s go dramatically south (spoiler: it didn’t). <br /><br /></p><div><div style="text-align: center;">Norwich is such a lovely city and by the end of our second visit, we were convinced that it is going to be a regular haunt for us. It is particularly lovely at Christmas time with an abundance of lights and independent shops. It was one of those trips where everything was just right, and it felt like Norwich was determined to show us its adult self (not that its child-friendly self wasn’t great). We headed to the lanes as soon as we arrived and ended up in Biddy’s Tearoom which we went to last time but sat outside due to the presence of the buggy. Turns out the inside is super cosy with clothed-ceilings, squashy sofas and soft lighting. Their sandwiches were great, the cakes absurdly extravagant and the vibes very much <i>come and sit awhile</i>. So we did. <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We’ve had time away from Alfie before, obviously. But there was something about knowing we had the whole night. It was the lack of deadline, I think. It wasn’t a snatched handful of hours; we didn’t have to be anywhere until the following day. And this is where not going too far, going somewhere we’d already explored, really came into its own. The combination of the two meant there was absolutely no pressure. We did a little shop browsing (and picked up an adorable Christmas jumper for Alfs) but then the weather turned, and so we simply drifted back to our gorgeous hotel room for a couple of hours. <br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">We stayed at 33 St Giles and treated ourselves to one of their suites. It had a huge bed with the softest mattress and luxurious White Company bedding, alongside a bathroom that was so big it had a huge sheepskin rug adorning the floor, squashy armchair, separate shower and toilet area and a deep standalone bath. What a treat. We lazed, I had a hot bath, we got ready for an actual evening out in a very slow fashion. <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG0bfj8Le8fK5rHlmtItSNW81S3IuGp6v0iHNv06wA2IvBXWZAueOI9vTiv_dcN5icH4r2sxXbovX1rMkhUZuwdbRpI_iLpjKMxVNbgjVxXmyN2NsJuv_i0Vg0iJUPUSE5986Hp3DTuHozVJwkw8iwS0hcM_ijEs-n6Geafxey20qanhElck7qMJBWww/s4032/IMG_1842.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitG0bfj8Le8fK5rHlmtItSNW81S3IuGp6v0iHNv06wA2IvBXWZAueOI9vTiv_dcN5icH4r2sxXbovX1rMkhUZuwdbRpI_iLpjKMxVNbgjVxXmyN2NsJuv_i0Vg0iJUPUSE5986Hp3DTuHozVJwkw8iwS0hcM_ijEs-n6Geafxey20qanhElck7qMJBWww/s16000/IMG_1842.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyviG8ePYVvx7XfGB1CoaYMm-GOR25IqcHSJuPHrbRZUESgqM9nO_ryr9KyGVPn_JbsdfdHkjKnrkhEoCfwq2iQ-0StmsiYw4IY5NxdRMUay4EVn9uWm4tijaCwp5ynFicjTuF0caa1KVA-jfDEaIJAW6fYdGoJq_mtIaxdTqo05QVExKR4oYgsY1CW8/s4032/IMG_1847.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyviG8ePYVvx7XfGB1CoaYMm-GOR25IqcHSJuPHrbRZUESgqM9nO_ryr9KyGVPn_JbsdfdHkjKnrkhEoCfwq2iQ-0StmsiYw4IY5NxdRMUay4EVn9uWm4tijaCwp5ynFicjTuF0caa1KVA-jfDEaIJAW6fYdGoJq_mtIaxdTqo05QVExKR4oYgsY1CW8/s16000/IMG_1847.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLokPAMHSLHATSqUJcbOwSP7JKuFI2rBfo-x49ARU6A5FObhiTbm-2iZu2LpU-mFtZhewN2KmcqXST2mkmYUosHWG-XlibxOSm3HC83NcAxhnEKSjF3eO0UbYakqFcBc2J9JwmFGPB-Z-9iBTJi3KvUbCK6gRS2p-6HXVG99lWhEhiozxXgqYMk9iS7I/s4032/IMG_1850.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLLokPAMHSLHATSqUJcbOwSP7JKuFI2rBfo-x49ARU6A5FObhiTbm-2iZu2LpU-mFtZhewN2KmcqXST2mkmYUosHWG-XlibxOSm3HC83NcAxhnEKSjF3eO0UbYakqFcBc2J9JwmFGPB-Z-9iBTJi3KvUbCK6gRS2p-6HXVG99lWhEhiozxXgqYMk9iS7I/s16000/IMG_1850.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4TERyNs-Gh-mLCxVNfOhzgP6XXQuVvsTbdv0UNVhHxA6f-E25XpXOnbSQ8Rl1ECW8ZXd0X1itVZkL9p08hGaEnHOF5-J-VP38EiYuVbPdLHHICjy2U9Ric3vetjJLhLMdmXfGJV_z0cx8tVTgPw__4IgzXQbRdWtYic_flHznkozGurEG_lZe4gECRk/s4032/IMG_1851.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4TERyNs-Gh-mLCxVNfOhzgP6XXQuVvsTbdv0UNVhHxA6f-E25XpXOnbSQ8Rl1ECW8ZXd0X1itVZkL9p08hGaEnHOF5-J-VP38EiYuVbPdLHHICjy2U9Ric3vetjJLhLMdmXfGJV_z0cx8tVTgPw__4IgzXQbRdWtYic_flHznkozGurEG_lZe4gECRk/s16000/IMG_1851.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYPBrNMNa2fjb_w1WqgCACEleyXGL2LcN-AfEJa5IIB9VAhgee4lDSg99gz13RcVmVACTxgf9PiMCz-vzkKrZyU8cAY7G3BrCRorXwRSKcgahgthgb97qAJpacPS17qRwDttTEvVioJ9BMeyK4u-8kPmPb2nn9Hyp10I0R4sW5etTzQqjauVvTi-2AMI/s4032/IMG_1861.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYPBrNMNa2fjb_w1WqgCACEleyXGL2LcN-AfEJa5IIB9VAhgee4lDSg99gz13RcVmVACTxgf9PiMCz-vzkKrZyU8cAY7G3BrCRorXwRSKcgahgthgb97qAJpacPS17qRwDttTEvVioJ9BMeyK4u-8kPmPb2nn9Hyp10I0R4sW5etTzQqjauVvTi-2AMI/s16000/IMG_1861.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LmKBLSpeKYZYDMd73D6Bd-0YAF-WfSsKlrCWjFR_L-Q_PbWwEXh-kgS85R2fH0L7kjae2M52s_5PJBKIIF-43LL8MlxABI5QjH5tmORkLapa-69_MlQ89lFhShLU6m4ZsA5oqdXo7aChAbRP2O-t5B_Ly5suNKFUgL8cBQ1w5AW8NVedOCwqbVG7ZZM/s4032/IMG_1862.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LmKBLSpeKYZYDMd73D6Bd-0YAF-WfSsKlrCWjFR_L-Q_PbWwEXh-kgS85R2fH0L7kjae2M52s_5PJBKIIF-43LL8MlxABI5QjH5tmORkLapa-69_MlQ89lFhShLU6m4ZsA5oqdXo7aChAbRP2O-t5B_Ly5suNKFUgL8cBQ1w5AW8NVedOCwqbVG7ZZM/s16000/IMG_1862.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9-57dAy2WlclcR3cJaG3suFoENkGA6bLNi8qbh80w0QJIwkGDuoLcntfIjeQk9oP73OXUsLbpWnJlDQR0npWxbv797-5H1DGcs0T0m0fB_OODRF0moQkScj2noTRBl-YHRHWX4689dDGpNQ01FbNQerSiU0QLu5Dt-00e217VLcDX7L8bKnrc-YY8LwM/s4032/IMG_1865.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9-57dAy2WlclcR3cJaG3suFoENkGA6bLNi8qbh80w0QJIwkGDuoLcntfIjeQk9oP73OXUsLbpWnJlDQR0npWxbv797-5H1DGcs0T0m0fB_OODRF0moQkScj2noTRBl-YHRHWX4689dDGpNQ01FbNQerSiU0QLu5Dt-00e217VLcDX7L8bKnrc-YY8LwM/s16000/IMG_1865.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">To say we were excited for an evening out was an understatement. It had been <i>so</i> long. We went to St Andrew’s brewhouse which was all cosy and festive, and managed not to talk about Alfie most of the time (although did watch the videos my parents sent of him eating corn on the cob more than once… partly because he was eating an actual vegetable which was somewhat of a Christmas miracle). We then headed to The Farmyard, a restaurant we’d booked because we wanted somewhere a bit special, and it had rave reviews. It absolutely did not disappoint. I’d go back for their goat’s cheese and olive bon bons alone. They were so good that I immediately ordered another bowl as soon as we’d finished the first. We then both had the Binham blue souffle to start, lamb with butternut and baba ganoush for mains and shared the dessert that everyone in the restaurant seemed to be having – The Farmyard ‘chocolate bar’ with peanuts, miso caramel and milk sorbet. I cannot tell you how delicious it all was. The kind of meal where you don’t mind the pricey tab because it absolutely felt worth the money.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">Norwich was aglow with old streetlamps and Christmas lights as we wandered across the cobbles back to our cloud bed where we were guaranteed a good night’s sleep and a lie in free from little toddler elbows digging into our kidneys. <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Before we set off the next morning, we stopped at Café 33 for breakfast. It usually has long queues but as we are now used to being up early, we were there five minutes after opening time and got a table no problem. I would recommend for a hearty brunch. We were full but we couldn’t leave Norwich without stopping at Bread Source, the bakery we fell in love with on our last visit. Their raspberry and pistachio pastries are not to missed. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And then it was time to go home to our boy, who showed no indication whatsoever that he’d even noticed we’d been gone!</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMhxXiasKguHligKtvWyfWyk61e_rSoj5Yv_EgMQlSH2-y5Y4zE623VD9uq94vna0pY9Eon9w98T3fPf9m7fkDpSSDCEjyNOPOf5xKXmj2YVMB0RpN33FGfKmPj5PiPSbkzf9UsqHOdABCf4gI_s2v_mLrOZZ-FXlXOfSIYlCHSVcTBh_9REW_Ymy5pA/s4032/IMG_1876.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFMhxXiasKguHligKtvWyfWyk61e_rSoj5Yv_EgMQlSH2-y5Y4zE623VD9uq94vna0pY9Eon9w98T3fPf9m7fkDpSSDCEjyNOPOf5xKXmj2YVMB0RpN33FGfKmPj5PiPSbkzf9UsqHOdABCf4gI_s2v_mLrOZZ-FXlXOfSIYlCHSVcTBh_9REW_Ymy5pA/s16000/IMG_1876.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1N6p0jhtzI7n1kyELT7EKzOu_hIvDPzKdcIEc0vrEutOIGAGaTFSc-JV3CDiXWiN59rld12CDD34vv56uKGJAYCwF1KINZzziUeBfe9TDzoLBXRbXvA2xYTc6TojXd2JgV7NUGyoDVXOMb5PcpKkicXUbq4cK6vEE7B-InOnRlGebrT-hTxEYltPli4/s3088/IMG_1873.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Norwich" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1N6p0jhtzI7n1kyELT7EKzOu_hIvDPzKdcIEc0vrEutOIGAGaTFSc-JV3CDiXWiN59rld12CDD34vv56uKGJAYCwF1KINZzziUeBfe9TDzoLBXRbXvA2xYTc6TojXd2JgV7NUGyoDVXOMb5PcpKkicXUbq4cK6vEE7B-InOnRlGebrT-hTxEYltPli4/s16000/IMG_1873.jpeg" title="Norwich" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-23190116428335343382023-11-30T22:38:00.002+00:002023-12-01T22:02:41.476+00:00Some Thoughts On Sleep Deprivation <p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikU27GgoQOhEspV2LsryfoaB_hH63QsYC3bDimV4gHsrmyDf7mtimLh5-XNmm6gQo8fiag-14fzaGHV5mjjlqCw9f68hwI7Gg79fILymrTQdr4EaynmLzYEYy9kHizHnB6SpcMqCZ5JyOmouj1R2v09pg5wED0Hw35V0gFT9sGzYGiC4szFJTJACQ7UqQ/s1600/2CF2089A-EF7A-4140-B067-C034002F1F90.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sleep deprivation" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikU27GgoQOhEspV2LsryfoaB_hH63QsYC3bDimV4gHsrmyDf7mtimLh5-XNmm6gQo8fiag-14fzaGHV5mjjlqCw9f68hwI7Gg79fILymrTQdr4EaynmLzYEYy9kHizHnB6SpcMqCZ5JyOmouj1R2v09pg5wED0Hw35V0gFT9sGzYGiC4szFJTJACQ7UqQ/s16000/2CF2089A-EF7A-4140-B067-C034002F1F90.jpeg" title="Sleep deprivation" /></a></p><br /><div style="text-align: center;">For the first few weeks of our son’s life, we could have been annoyingly smug when it comes to sleep. Alfie would sleep from about midnight until 5am straight. Yes, I realise to a non-parent, this sounds pretty shit but for anyone with a newborn baby, this is the kind of thing that is celebrated and envied when shared around a table of shell-shocked new parents clutching a baby in one hand and a coffee in the other. We paid for it with utterly hellish evenings but hey, he slept for a five-hour chunk! What a dream! In hindsight, this five-hour chunk was actually an indicator that things weren’t quite right. Alfie struggled a lot with feeding at first (more <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2022/07/seven-months-of-breastfeeding.html" target="_blank">here</a>) which included, amongst other issues, a tongue tie that was missed until he was over a month old. That five-hour chunk turned out to be him simply crashing with exhaustion after either feeding non-stop for hours and hours and <i>hours</i> at a time, or from screaming the house down because he was hungry and frustrated. When a lot of those issues were finally resolved, that five-hour chunk disappeared and our nights turned into wake-up calls every 1-2 hours. This lasted until he was nearly 18 months old, and it was a wild bloody ride. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">“Sleep whilst you can!” people joke when you’re pregnant, and you smile or roll your eyes or nod politely. We all know it’s a pointless thing to say (unless someone invents the ability to bank sleep hours) but say it we do, because it’s a way of acknowledging those famous newborn days of broken sleep, vomit-covered shoulders and that beautiful, beautiful baby smell. There aren’t any jokes about being severely sleep deprived for a year and a half though. Believe me, I’ve tried to make them. You just come across as a hysterical zombie and it kinda kills the punch line when instead of laughing, someone gives you a sympathetic head tilt and ask if you’re okay. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The honest answer to that would be no. Sleep deprivation made me clumsy, angry, teary, snappy, unreasonable, riddled with anxiety… generally emotionally unstable. It made me incapable of making basic decisions (true story: I once cried because I couldn’t decide what pizza to order. There was literally a choice of four pizzas. It was embarrassing… or it would have been, but I was too tired to care.), it made me feel like I was moving through fog, it completely screwed with my memory, and it made me find the world an overwhelming and, sometimes, dark place. Ultimately, I think it made me a little bit depressed. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I don’t use the word lightly. Perhaps it’s not the correct word to use but it’s the best one I can think of to describe the experience. The only plus side of being that sleep deprived for that long is when we finally started to get a more humane amount of sleep again, there was such <i>joy</i> in remembering how lovely life could be. Even now, I get an extraordinary amount of joy over such little things because I remember how lovely they are and how, for so long, I simply did not have the energy to appreciate them. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Something that often baffled me was the way that quite a lot of people seemed to believe that they could solve the problem. That if you just <i>tried</i> a new thing, tried a little harder, the baby would sleep twelve hours in their cot no problem. Like <i>you</i> were causing the problem by not implementing a solid routine/sleep training them/ ‘still’ breastfeeding etc etc all the while ignoring the basic fact that babies are not puppies to be trained. People would make these suggestions like you hadn’t already spent what likely amounted to months of your life googling solutions, hadn’t already tried every damn thing you could in hope of gaining just a fraction more sleep, like they were going to impart their well-meaning-but-repetitive advice and you were going to jump up and go GOLLY GOSH BRENDA, YOU’RE A GENIUS. (Yes, it is, quite frankly, a miracle that I didn’t accidentally ruin a relationship with someone by being a sarcastic bitch which is the mode I had to resist slipping into when someone was trying to give me unsolicited advice on three hours sleep.) <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">It goes without saying that obviously the first 18 months of my son’s life were not miserable. There were many, many joyous moments and he was – and still is – the biggest bundle of joy and – obviously – entirely worth it. But good lord, the lack of sleep as a result of him simply following his little baby instincts was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It impacts every single aspect of your life, from your relationships to your health to your ability to order from a basic menu. Perhaps the hardest thing is the impact on your ability to parent at your best, to enjoy moments that will never come back, and you envy the experiences of those who had better sleepers and got to enjoy the baby stage a lot more. I also underestimated how long it would take to recover. Okay, I can now order from a menu fine, but it turns out that everything else doesn’t just click back into place once you’ve finally slept through the night again. I still feel like we are in a recovery period, and I’ve accepted that it’s going to take a lot of patience. I’ve also accepted it might be a long time before I am no longer living with The Fear. Because once you escape that dark fog of sleep deprivation, the prospect of going back into it is genuinely very scary. I have to try and rationalise one bad night, have to remind myself that the ‘bad nights’ now were the ‘good nights’ last year, have to try and not spiral down a rabbit hole where I allow the experience to influence bigger decisions like whether or not to try for a second baby. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I have broadly come to the conclusion that Alfie and sleep is one of those things that will become a family joke in years to come. We’ll joke that he always had a ridiculous amount of energy, that he always thought sleep was overrated. He is nearly two and still does not consistently sleep through the night; we never know if we’re going to be able to get him to nap and I <i>long</i> for the day when our evenings are not consumed by trying to get Alfie to go to sleep promptly (if it’s taken less than an hour and he’s asleep by 8pm, we consider that a good day). <i>But</i> he is <i>a lot</i> better than he was. There have now been a few nights where he has slept from bedtime through until 5-6am and I still enjoy that sensation of waking up, seeing the time and realising I’ve actually had a full night’s sleep. It’s still a novelty and very much not guaranteed. I’m not entirely convinced it’s actually reasonable to expect young children to always sleep through the night; I more than understand the <i>desire </i>but I think young children simply are just following their instinct and I do try very hard to not refer to him as a ‘bad’ sleeper (okay, I fail at this quite a lot when I’m tired but seriously, he’s not even two. It’s not like the kid is doing it on purpose). <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">After nearly two years, my standards on sleep have dropped considerably. I have long given up on the idea of my child sleeping 7pm-7am. For me, it’s what can we cope with, what can we <i>live</i> on and not simply survive on. I’ve learnt a solid four hour chunk is better than seven broken hours, that having some semblance of a childfree-evening is important for my sanity, that equally splitting the early mornings and bedtimes between the two of you enables you both to have pockets of time to yourselves, and that co-sleeping can be life-saving even if it does often feel like sharing a bed with an octopus trained in boxing. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">If you’re right in the trenches of sleep deprivation right now, there is not much I can say to help. You’ll be sick of hearing that it gets better (WHEN EXACTLY, you internally screech) but it does, I promise. Keep going. </p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-33469894516418782312023-11-23T22:15:00.002+00:002023-11-24T15:51:25.664+00:00Lunch & Views @ The Sky Garden, London<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99wa-Vi0vlbTfgdTw5AEalqTSKzzLIRU37ACUBt_KTCjffwP8TW2WSCvp2ClyxoygPs5HLDjfwN-rgu0EydVi3SURoEWWeYMkSlyIiOXbjCZdsJpRUM1If6pdoKwRiT6oDX7MQDoE6ggAG-p8ygpcX09hVA97NJSVAgnL8XpxK9w2JezfWfxxc8SaiMY/s4032/IMG_1101.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg99wa-Vi0vlbTfgdTw5AEalqTSKzzLIRU37ACUBt_KTCjffwP8TW2WSCvp2ClyxoygPs5HLDjfwN-rgu0EydVi3SURoEWWeYMkSlyIiOXbjCZdsJpRUM1If6pdoKwRiT6oDX7MQDoE6ggAG-p8ygpcX09hVA97NJSVAgnL8XpxK9w2JezfWfxxc8SaiMY/s16000/IMG_1101.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br />The <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2016/03/london-eats-duck-waffle-plus-up-to.html" style="background-color: white;" target="_blank">last time</a> I was up at the Sky Garden, it was the same day we had a phone call telling us we had got <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2019/08/a-flat-with-spiral-staircase.html" target="_blank">our flat in St Albans</a> and, wow, doesn’t that feel like a lifetime ago?</div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I was meeting my family in London (between Sheffield, Cambridgeshire and West London, this was actually the most convenient spot for everyone), and my Dad & Elizabeth very generously offered to treat my sister and I to lunch in one of the restaurants in the Sky Garden. Well, it would have been rude to say no right? <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The Sky Garden hasn’t remotely changed since Gary and I visited seven years ago and I was struck by a similar thought again seven years later: ‘garden’ is pushing it a bit. As Elizabeth said, ‘greenery would be more accurate’. But it’s – despite the name – not really about the garden. It’s about the views. And, boy, are they good. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">But first: lunch. We dined at Darwin Brasserie with a rather excellent view of St Paul’s and the London Eye. I’ll be honest, for the price you pay, they could do with trying to squeeze less people in there; I can be infringingly close to other members of the public in Pizza Express without the high price tag thank you very much. But that’s my only gripe because the food was delicious, and the company excellent. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVU3D5aFWSeoiRGoBHgeypjcCgq7DLfEXuv3hfTvDBDMRgimAqosM7_Di893X_OB4PSerU_P11q6LY2D2puKDTyCEzXp6OKf5RwOH3a_Y3UDk7v_eK_24zEaRP9Z7RZ0EXRNpC2mlI2cv1w__mAMIm2c2o6kiMHXh2eRPRgDYD3x1IxM1Il794o5IJjKw/s4032/IMG_1092.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVU3D5aFWSeoiRGoBHgeypjcCgq7DLfEXuv3hfTvDBDMRgimAqosM7_Di893X_OB4PSerU_P11q6LY2D2puKDTyCEzXp6OKf5RwOH3a_Y3UDk7v_eK_24zEaRP9Z7RZ0EXRNpC2mlI2cv1w__mAMIm2c2o6kiMHXh2eRPRgDYD3x1IxM1Il794o5IJjKw/s16000/IMG_1092.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgC0QQ7CxQXYbW5RQPThLCsxDRiYieomS5FI4bYnHgBo_n6pa7ucXIFRYWElIyDZ-6l0tTzXo-gFXMOStqbOgLO3pfuMxUQIUZu2rZek3CyfVnnLiI1WtEDVF2QxRC4EwEL0FFD6hK1GeNp1XhzdP5wtLZaZqLO5LRBHez3lhkPzr750j5PJjn7hSDhk4/s4032/IMG_1090.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgC0QQ7CxQXYbW5RQPThLCsxDRiYieomS5FI4bYnHgBo_n6pa7ucXIFRYWElIyDZ-6l0tTzXo-gFXMOStqbOgLO3pfuMxUQIUZu2rZek3CyfVnnLiI1WtEDVF2QxRC4EwEL0FFD6hK1GeNp1XhzdP5wtLZaZqLO5LRBHez3lhkPzr750j5PJjn7hSDhk4/s16000/IMG_1090.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDMtwPSzzDh_XvDP4sIZV_ZibadMIPItWV4tGcNhRZeTXB_UdkvPjALLGkhJ6BOjqWJx584dtpLRf_A_Jh-t4deZsyasyYv50XDPfw_ltPTJy5HvY7Z3jFDpP9cabRrlqod_BtugnTuRQV547Ae74u4-bpgrVafiIdp_MIVm8zyYxEBCr7O2IWofDcbg/s4032/IMG_1087.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDMtwPSzzDh_XvDP4sIZV_ZibadMIPItWV4tGcNhRZeTXB_UdkvPjALLGkhJ6BOjqWJx584dtpLRf_A_Jh-t4deZsyasyYv50XDPfw_ltPTJy5HvY7Z3jFDpP9cabRrlqod_BtugnTuRQV547Ae74u4-bpgrVafiIdp_MIVm8zyYxEBCr7O2IWofDcbg/s16000/IMG_1087.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8C8aiPtoy2qIDDYXz3zTqxYyOs48xcGIbhMWUvoKVIsur-UObG6QrIm8wGCL8BZK1kzoZmnSnjtCBZsJCPzLumqkCfiUcXobGOdj2JMejNbNnN1lzhyOagf759zomOZmg8gbrbJnYNJe1TyIcJuLqV0oBXNWwpnKBPjj8HH9qdkz1t_wFHG400-rXz6s/s4032/IMG_1083.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8C8aiPtoy2qIDDYXz3zTqxYyOs48xcGIbhMWUvoKVIsur-UObG6QrIm8wGCL8BZK1kzoZmnSnjtCBZsJCPzLumqkCfiUcXobGOdj2JMejNbNnN1lzhyOagf759zomOZmg8gbrbJnYNJe1TyIcJuLqV0oBXNWwpnKBPjj8HH9qdkz1t_wFHG400-rXz6s/s16000/IMG_1083.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHlFisUbm_cIew8OhFEIA3SDxyIYX889URXd6bpll8cHT3_AiFTW-FvpSGX8pQT0-Z2Zx0-K9WdQYHSru193Ui2IfRGl8Y3sj2EOas9CIf-mLhq6HeghJ1NsbwAAZz7wJMIJ5cuKOHM9ZilbRRsGFt5nuKU_wu5eydNC9faTxEppHhsO3U020yE29a_4/s4032/IMG_1097.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimHlFisUbm_cIew8OhFEIA3SDxyIYX889URXd6bpll8cHT3_AiFTW-FvpSGX8pQT0-Z2Zx0-K9WdQYHSru193Ui2IfRGl8Y3sj2EOas9CIf-mLhq6HeghJ1NsbwAAZz7wJMIJ5cuKOHM9ZilbRRsGFt5nuKU_wu5eydNC9faTxEppHhsO3U020yE29a_4/s16000/IMG_1097.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyeHXzHOEhdEbfzTAnSaZrbqAuxf5NJ_t90KweddhS4rG27S23HR_LMt-4rPkQoMQntJer735h5eQU5jXFRwN3T3WsJjmkUGx_Mclhl4XUtplWk6eRG-CHEiQ2eXPVh_BPwBEk2xmkcmvRGhEwrNyrFV6to5WmxPqzaxc2ddTWTN2sm-Eotbn9L_7ujo/s4032/IMG_1094.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJyeHXzHOEhdEbfzTAnSaZrbqAuxf5NJ_t90KweddhS4rG27S23HR_LMt-4rPkQoMQntJer735h5eQU5jXFRwN3T3WsJjmkUGx_Mclhl4XUtplWk6eRG-CHEiQ2eXPVh_BPwBEk2xmkcmvRGhEwrNyrFV6to5WmxPqzaxc2ddTWTN2sm-Eotbn9L_7ujo/s16000/IMG_1094.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-6IkLULOU1NH6L3bDSSvkN9-FcbLzO5nfxZUOppwnqh-J03B4KYjG4PAPuW0tf4CLqnQdgHmdO5Kwb_lfTn5IJUEKUABOfKKvE7ATCln0ZsFK7AF6qiAct6XBAJJuR7awIY-PlnMNJRPPriU6P6rmrJwYS9MpjeCNZW0qNCdHrCowLt5SvSCAIvl7Mo/s4032/IMG_1106.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-6IkLULOU1NH6L3bDSSvkN9-FcbLzO5nfxZUOppwnqh-J03B4KYjG4PAPuW0tf4CLqnQdgHmdO5Kwb_lfTn5IJUEKUABOfKKvE7ATCln0ZsFK7AF6qiAct6XBAJJuR7awIY-PlnMNJRPPriU6P6rmrJwYS9MpjeCNZW0qNCdHrCowLt5SvSCAIvl7Mo/s16000/IMG_1106.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIKGgJYJZMJQrdxP1aLVExSeAHRNLFYhZZAvuxL3wOeRWMNPwIuAWM2Bmbzjulbo0q6R92Ds6CiUo6PXO7-wyGfSiWR6Znnaeo3PSt9F6s2SGOkWs6Ee-rU5TrbIAHmzW5kLTUk-YSVU9Nn2cfuDs4emYiK6zDFDNIR_wQGw1OGNtenwD_oRIg7V57o0/s4032/IMG_1109.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBIKGgJYJZMJQrdxP1aLVExSeAHRNLFYhZZAvuxL3wOeRWMNPwIuAWM2Bmbzjulbo0q6R92Ds6CiUo6PXO7-wyGfSiWR6Znnaeo3PSt9F6s2SGOkWs6Ee-rU5TrbIAHmzW5kLTUk-YSVU9Nn2cfuDs4emYiK6zDFDNIR_wQGw1OGNtenwD_oRIg7V57o0/s16000/IMG_1109.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;">Elizabeth and I shared a carafe of wine which turned out to be an excellent move because it was a) really good wine, and b) about the same price as one glass and we both got two glasses out of it. I started with the grilled goat’s cheese with figs, sunflower seeds and pomegranate dressing, inhaled a really good roast beef dinner for main and rounded it all up with a dark chocolate and coffee brownie with coffee cream, which just melted in the mouth. It was all very, very good.<br /> </p><p style="text-align: center;">We emerged out to the refreshingly cool air outside the restaurant and proceeded to take in the views from every angle. I just find being that high fascinating; it’s like looking at a live map with all the trains and people appearing as toy models. The best view is probably the one from the outdoor terrace because The Shard is right in front of you but, to be fair, whatever side you’re looking out of, they are great. On a clear day, you can see for miles across London, and I loved playing spot-the-landmark (okay and nosing at people’s roof terraces). </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Once we were viewed-out, we got our feet back on the ground and went for a walk along the Thames. The Autumn air was just starting to bite, the sun was already low in the sky and London was being all <i>hey look how cute I am</i>. A chai latte found its way into my hands somehow (so annoying what that happens huh?) and we took to the side streets to take a slow wander towards the stations. We marvelled at the way ridiculously old pubs could be inexplicably squashed in between towering skyscrapers. We saw the Halloween decorations around the Tower of London, the cheese grater building, the gherkin… I mean, we’ve seen all these many times before but I’m not sure they ever really get old you know? </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Short and sweet but we were all home at reasonable times with a full cup, and that is the kind of day out I am here for these days. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpmAgcalB4g2VGgsU9Bj58B4cByGniX5Pc4mZi8lB97AB7TooSuC6dBZWeQUjNomYg6ADt5xwh4qzJFHpKFO9dPsZY3-uVznuNHLDQ2Cz4jlpHJ7pOWhCo2LRsGyfMXZJ5gwvCcLxy8dNWMMv-CrcFOyp3KoNpmTPb7Pvl6TIAqby21fpURy8AWrbM1A/s4032/IMG_1124.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpmAgcalB4g2VGgsU9Bj58B4cByGniX5Pc4mZi8lB97AB7TooSuC6dBZWeQUjNomYg6ADt5xwh4qzJFHpKFO9dPsZY3-uVznuNHLDQ2Cz4jlpHJ7pOWhCo2LRsGyfMXZJ5gwvCcLxy8dNWMMv-CrcFOyp3KoNpmTPb7Pvl6TIAqby21fpURy8AWrbM1A/s16000/IMG_1124.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjchBPGSOBxgvbjmKI2vU2R_jzCNdQCEZME0jprTXHqMfFiXbBaGI88jV1wrscI3nzijEdvfgh9hJqLJ85RExGA8cweNCV4jhECba6vcd-OqGRBfsotv0yOK_ZZkKc_bv_0S4dVRqml08rYIJfgpgI-ygdvVX5gmpewT1KJ8suB973RfZVbnSlUAXU1Rk/s4032/IMG_1130.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjchBPGSOBxgvbjmKI2vU2R_jzCNdQCEZME0jprTXHqMfFiXbBaGI88jV1wrscI3nzijEdvfgh9hJqLJ85RExGA8cweNCV4jhECba6vcd-OqGRBfsotv0yOK_ZZkKc_bv_0S4dVRqml08rYIJfgpgI-ygdvVX5gmpewT1KJ8suB973RfZVbnSlUAXU1Rk/s16000/IMG_1130.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeL-UblOFKcXnw15T_rARh4Mq7vuc_eDvjKW8Gfq3XN_lUcVEFtKQHwPARLnH5-ui56YJZ1rQWEEfkbhELbafTyeAbw89KXDflSc23kJpsYgu4TzK_soXAOJ3fyCjDz2UbRhLux__VToQc8WfntnOQiefuiWP8Yqom9AR8-7E6KvI-iSdR1x0JmPEf14/s4032/IMG_1135.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGeL-UblOFKcXnw15T_rARh4Mq7vuc_eDvjKW8Gfq3XN_lUcVEFtKQHwPARLnH5-ui56YJZ1rQWEEfkbhELbafTyeAbw89KXDflSc23kJpsYgu4TzK_soXAOJ3fyCjDz2UbRhLux__VToQc8WfntnOQiefuiWP8Yqom9AR8-7E6KvI-iSdR1x0JmPEf14/s16000/IMG_1135.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DooRY2RiT2CKXP8nPDsvJQcNq3oDfUgEPcasJJGNLpwg8Kd7ImrAhhOZbyDKfOtmmfOoHRzDp3zSn4EHOPFyE-_fioddlKTsz21xYFeaZAh8u9cM2q7w4z01hXAvfEP9LqpKL3Ipc5WB0QV9cSbIMo_ivEGz1419PxQNCBSqpPTL_d2wIYKzCu2gwFo/s4032/IMG_1137.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_DooRY2RiT2CKXP8nPDsvJQcNq3oDfUgEPcasJJGNLpwg8Kd7ImrAhhOZbyDKfOtmmfOoHRzDp3zSn4EHOPFyE-_fioddlKTsz21xYFeaZAh8u9cM2q7w4z01hXAvfEP9LqpKL3Ipc5WB0QV9cSbIMo_ivEGz1419PxQNCBSqpPTL_d2wIYKzCu2gwFo/s16000/IMG_1137.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIkM5ZOp_wpdQS_QHKYYSqZCOnEk5OUmCZgq82IogQhJK253k1X_fYZAQp5fof3wCYENUrASRKqUaHynruqoPK_vL80Nh7NnmC9dmtilP9MRQhcKKvTpnWTnZ9eYHYB5VAjZ4OSnSSOUB1SvzvqfkEPNcs-lqm0Tep_uCHAGHG3el9OXjYCu4uQKBVcnc/s4032/IMG_1141.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sky Garden, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIkM5ZOp_wpdQS_QHKYYSqZCOnEk5OUmCZgq82IogQhJK253k1X_fYZAQp5fof3wCYENUrASRKqUaHynruqoPK_vL80Nh7NnmC9dmtilP9MRQhcKKvTpnWTnZ9eYHYB5VAjZ4OSnSSOUB1SvzvqfkEPNcs-lqm0Tep_uCHAGHG3el9OXjYCu4uQKBVcnc/s16000/IMG_1141.jpeg" title="Sky Garden, London" /></a></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-40485995579620435982023-11-04T16:44:00.003+00:002023-11-04T16:45:59.879+00:00Baking Diaries: Salty, Lemon Shortbread As The Seasons Change <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17y5CcYFBiOBqr59bWtyZKojPCkmjqGSgnh8NFW5FNMl6dxwqlao9CJN_N72_jyElgFZ1MULsrHTUaL0D7f6kXmN-Fgkaajv9D7DGE3f98L9mVq2cMn8wNAkPPGsFWbKi5M3Vns-R6tSPVZVfRR1Yj-J7EyRNAdCNgKGlD-evElmck813_NbCnn3NH-g/s3507/B412783C-CEA0-4C7A-9ED8-2D9B2F6AB9DF.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Salty, lemon shortbread" border="0" data-original-height="3507" data-original-width="2897" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi17y5CcYFBiOBqr59bWtyZKojPCkmjqGSgnh8NFW5FNMl6dxwqlao9CJN_N72_jyElgFZ1MULsrHTUaL0D7f6kXmN-Fgkaajv9D7DGE3f98L9mVq2cMn8wNAkPPGsFWbKi5M3Vns-R6tSPVZVfRR1Yj-J7EyRNAdCNgKGlD-evElmck813_NbCnn3NH-g/s16000/B412783C-CEA0-4C7A-9ED8-2D9B2F6AB9DF.jpeg" title="Salty, lemon shortbread" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i> Plus, events with Bake Off contestants, that autumnal feeling and a wish list of food-scented candles. </i></div><i><br /></i><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>This post first appeared on <a href="https://kateashmore.substack.com/" target="_blank">Messy Notebook, Messy Kitchen</a>. Please do come join and subscribe for monthly short stories and cosy food writing. </i><br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">It is imperative that I tell you about <a href="https://www.alisoneroman.com/recipes/salty-lemon-shortbread" target="_blank">these salty lemon shortbreads</a>. I sort of want to virtually push them into your hands and tell you to eat them now. Late summer/early Autumn saw us falling into a routine of heading out promptly on a Saturday morning to eat sticky cinnamon buns at our favourite bakery. It’s messy regardless of whether you’re a toddler or adult but everyone is happy with the situation. On one such Saturday, we were wandering around the market afterwards when I saw these lemons that looked really, well, lemony. Like vibrant yellow, enticingly yellow. What is it about buying fruit and veg from a market stall (handed to you in a brown paper bag that crinkles comfortingly in your hands as you walk home) and being used straight away in the kitchen, that makes you feel wholesome? Like you’re the kind of person who peruses market stalls in a floaty dress with a large basket in the crook of your arm filled with the yellowest lemons, reddest tomatoes, freshly baked bread…. I am not that person obviously. But these lemons gave me that vibe. I used them to make this shortbread. The smell when I zested them and combined in a bowl with sugar until the sugar was yellow too was unreal. Perfect for late summer, just as that warm air starts to fade. I would like that smell in a candle please and thank you. The zesty sugar goes on top of these lemon shortbreads and forms this gorgeous crunchy, caramelised topping that goes so well with the extra salt. Honestly, they were so good. Please do go make them.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAqWChZBsRV8ZZnbTnYuNynNHgQW0HTchk3rsCAP-zfqps-OyR_9U76afA7qSeXrhGprBCbpn8gW31pGbUoZMlISqKmWR6lDevcccLM2VybtX0dtg_G7E6rO2cBLGZZed9KQdQsEZCPT8u0RJvE_hAZoV1zfcHjWdDwRamLl0DGTL5qnEaPn49tj5-CA/s4032/E60ECA4A-9BD4-4391-B92B-882AE68F1BB3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeAqWChZBsRV8ZZnbTnYuNynNHgQW0HTchk3rsCAP-zfqps-OyR_9U76afA7qSeXrhGprBCbpn8gW31pGbUoZMlISqKmWR6lDevcccLM2VybtX0dtg_G7E6rO2cBLGZZed9KQdQsEZCPT8u0RJvE_hAZoV1zfcHjWdDwRamLl0DGTL5qnEaPn49tj5-CA/s16000/E60ECA4A-9BD4-4391-B92B-882AE68F1BB3.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvuZ19DpAxm9mH1fKn4cV5OdvLcf_j_M1Vjss0aub9XhoU0ytt15YRi5pYPPbb6oaaYcK2bVvh4NmEpiMs-a0ydSSjyeDCDnwVRpFaBzm-GIUzldL004Ww8H1ERCfGAumE90Wq4MWCE8Hnr6YsI4bSzZAc6W3i0-0YnAbxBz21Z3fYyEX4Qh0XKe7Wdtw/s3915/042D68DE-42B0-42EB-8C50-C99CFC468010.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="3915" data-original-width="2936" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvuZ19DpAxm9mH1fKn4cV5OdvLcf_j_M1Vjss0aub9XhoU0ytt15YRi5pYPPbb6oaaYcK2bVvh4NmEpiMs-a0ydSSjyeDCDnwVRpFaBzm-GIUzldL004Ww8H1ERCfGAumE90Wq4MWCE8Hnr6YsI4bSzZAc6W3i0-0YnAbxBz21Z3fYyEX4Qh0XKe7Wdtw/s16000/042D68DE-42B0-42EB-8C50-C99CFC468010.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkf8GpAfAK430FL6BfpnhOqSmdX3H70hv9pXHXIV0bZuf_5GM6MXiVnBik4pRxZ_IISowCQOiTuteHGozoYaPfQfu3leMXoAEZQP7XRJK_EPs68AHU859rUGzXqDrsDhQJZISJHarI4_HcwHl71PRrlsDHD3IMbNQFWwMAYJQj8hrOliTJ7Y-d_AKSRQ/s4032/825740A5-8E15-43ED-9AD3-603683A4F74D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUkf8GpAfAK430FL6BfpnhOqSmdX3H70hv9pXHXIV0bZuf_5GM6MXiVnBik4pRxZ_IISowCQOiTuteHGozoYaPfQfu3leMXoAEZQP7XRJK_EPs68AHU859rUGzXqDrsDhQJZISJHarI4_HcwHl71PRrlsDHD3IMbNQFWwMAYJQj8hrOliTJ7Y-d_AKSRQ/s16000/825740A5-8E15-43ED-9AD3-603683A4F74D.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Elsewhere in the kitchen, I have made my own granola for the first time which is ridiculously easy, and I have no idea why I’ve never done it before. It was nut-heavy with a subtle level of orange zest; now that’s another smell I would quite happily have in a candle. Is there a business somewhere making candles that smell like various baked goods? There must be. If you’re in the know, please tell me. Also, on the subject of breakfast, I made some blueberry, lemon & oat muffins for the little person in our life. I was trying to offer him alternatives for breakfast, but he remains unconvinced that he should not just have peanut butter every damn day. It’s really quite hard to argue with him when I have peanut butter for breakfast every damn day. Still, they were nice muffins. Find the granola recipe <a href="https://www.deliciouslyella.com/recipes/nutty-granola/" target="_blank">here</a> and the muffins <a href="https://www.deliciouslyella.com/recipes/blueberry-and-lemon-muffins/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">There has also been focaccia – my second attempt – and this one was exactly the kind of focaccia I was imagining in my head; crunchy, pillowy, salty, a generous helping of rosemary to finish it all off. It was an overnight recipe which I’m never that big a fan off (I’m impatient and hungry), but I think it was worth the wait. Find the recipe on the Waitrose website <a href="https://www.waitrose.com/ecom/recipe/the-best-foccacia" target="_blank">here</a>. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We had our neighbours round for tea and cake – okay, gin and cake – just before the summer petered out. It felt like a Victoria sponge moment. I went with the brown sugar Victoria sponge from <a href="https://www.waterstones.com/book/love-is-a-pink-cake/claire-ptak/9781529110319" target="_blank"><i>Love is a pink cake</i> by Claire Ptak</a>. It was subtle but I think more flavoursome than white sugar. The thing that struck me most though was the super-quick jam element. Mashed fruit, sugar pre-heated in the oven, a little simmering and boom, jam. I’m here for that level of efficiency.<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgshMtwVVV90n-qis7zh8b3a2sKUQytPcbOJF3AuUgiTdetJ48ur3BJcr0R7IcLCW2u5WAnQnUcvZVzFwsyjgNV_NpMV6nvThhlEvrzQsbR_mOZprxTK4feqQXyVtplFijtDduLLuoEpe52maG9nPP7T4ZVjcU69zlcAzHKmC1wBg6n6fNikK803o8pUY/s3900/AB7CCB99-0E8C-4B52-A692-CDC7FF39B643.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="3900" data-original-width="3000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgshMtwVVV90n-qis7zh8b3a2sKUQytPcbOJF3AuUgiTdetJ48ur3BJcr0R7IcLCW2u5WAnQnUcvZVzFwsyjgNV_NpMV6nvThhlEvrzQsbR_mOZprxTK4feqQXyVtplFijtDduLLuoEpe52maG9nPP7T4ZVjcU69zlcAzHKmC1wBg6n6fNikK803o8pUY/s16000/AB7CCB99-0E8C-4B52-A692-CDC7FF39B643.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RR0rEFt7Va4vFMFaGVY6hc6PVZk7ZMovm1VtPZsNjm_-uAAU1xZgjhJJ0R3HGSG9bXveMQjmrEI9TxeVp0uiwaGkujx_8xLAutJkkIdK7aU7X-pSisOTr4EAQhJV_yBEbWyOE-yWmFSi2xXCXufc3SwS83GEbDZ8pbJGRdwqfSU602N5f1C9xHmxaJU/s4032/685564E1-4C31-499E-B64B-FA5FF1697DE5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0RR0rEFt7Va4vFMFaGVY6hc6PVZk7ZMovm1VtPZsNjm_-uAAU1xZgjhJJ0R3HGSG9bXveMQjmrEI9TxeVp0uiwaGkujx_8xLAutJkkIdK7aU7X-pSisOTr4EAQhJV_yBEbWyOE-yWmFSi2xXCXufc3SwS83GEbDZ8pbJGRdwqfSU602N5f1C9xHmxaJU/s16000/685564E1-4C31-499E-B64B-FA5FF1697DE5.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20tMsbGT60X-XyEIZpHj7VSIsQ3eWAHTZEI2IQrC4C-YTGKsucH8b1aSENAR5X1QwC4JAK-vs4l8zeALs-KXZ4gKcp4eQZ3NqSsTve2-jP7U1xXHfVERqcUd98J2D1nKMedttEVMT972N5pVf0vp3VVOf5hr_fmJfobICn-fH11Lr7GI7YZpsST4lydc/s3888/70442792-C4BF-45E0-931B-E23F4129EB98.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg20tMsbGT60X-XyEIZpHj7VSIsQ3eWAHTZEI2IQrC4C-YTGKsucH8b1aSENAR5X1QwC4JAK-vs4l8zeALs-KXZ4gKcp4eQZ3NqSsTve2-jP7U1xXHfVERqcUd98J2D1nKMedttEVMT972N5pVf0vp3VVOf5hr_fmJfobICn-fH11Lr7GI7YZpsST4lydc/s16000/70442792-C4BF-45E0-931B-E23F4129EB98.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpl5XQZUpVPRnu3xehxEPCVk7ZrbjBwXWeo1bKVE8d0QJZcaj8EDT3jMHwwmYD3yYzORqFw8SFa69dpddxEs7T8FYjRdyRMhS3WnQ2X5Y4vELeQ-gfH689rZYogshVwkScPBod-37XDzW5PIBSHy-7PwDA1C0ALd0KJjZN_J2t11ObyWo1FsYLkQSwbo/s4032/5A6CA8F6-D593-43D9-86E3-0D5E68B413AA.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Baking diaries" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVpl5XQZUpVPRnu3xehxEPCVk7ZrbjBwXWeo1bKVE8d0QJZcaj8EDT3jMHwwmYD3yYzORqFw8SFa69dpddxEs7T8FYjRdyRMhS3WnQ2X5Y4vELeQ-gfH689rZYogshVwkScPBod-37XDzW5PIBSHy-7PwDA1C0ALd0KJjZN_J2t11ObyWo1FsYLkQSwbo/s16000/5A6CA8F6-D593-43D9-86E3-0D5E68B413AA.jpeg" title="Baking diaries" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Autumn has crept in, and I can’t help but associate it with baking. Partly because <i>Bake Off</i> is back on our screens but also partly because the entire season just lends itself to baking in a way summer never could. The smell (seriously, <i>candle</i>) and warmth of bread baking in the oven can never not make you feel wholesome and cosy as the golden leaves waft about in the blustery winds and the rain patters against the window. My local bookshop hosted Jürgen Krauss to talk about his new book <a href="https://www.waterstones.com/book/german-baking/j-rgen-krauss/9781914239885" target="_blank"><i>German Baking</i> </a>and sitting in a church eating cake and listening to people discuss different types of flour felt like great way to kick off this baking-themed season. I bought a copy of his book with the discount from my ticket, and I cannot tell you how <i>autumnal</i> it feels, from the colours to the Christmas chapter. It’s going to be the perfect book to bake from over the next few months, particularly as I want to try more bread recipes. The first recipe I tried was the chocolate babka and whilst my braiding presentation needs some work, the chocolate swirls in the bread and the taste of orange, cinnamon & cloves was <i>delicious</i>.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">To accompany the first episode of <i>Bake Off </i>though, it was the classic banana bread, mostly because I had two black bananas sat in the fruit bowl. <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2023/09/my-go-to-banana-bread.html" target="_blank">This is my go-to recipe</a> and it never lets me down.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Baking browsing:<br /></b><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh my</i> how decadent does <a href="https://butternutbakeryblog.com/chocolate-mousse-cake/" target="_blank">this chocolate mousse cake</a> look? Anyone have a special occasion they would like me to make this for, because I can’t justify baking this just for two people. Or any of my friends want to come round for a cake eating party?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I spotted <a href="https://www.waitrose.com/ecom/recipe/rice-pudding-maple-apples" target="_blank">this rice pudding with maple apples recipe </a>on one of the Waitrose recipe cards and it came home with me simply because anything with the word ‘maple’ in just sounds autumny. Plus, I am a sucker for rice pudding.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Jürgen’s book has a recipe for stollen which I have never made before. It needs to be made a few weeks in advance of Christmas so I’m setting myself a reminder in November to give it a go.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">See you in the kitchen again soon x</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-51438331756413650782023-10-31T20:20:00.001+00:002023-10-31T20:20:36.308+00:00To The Pumpkin Patch!<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoM34wbHKFuOl0919iGdQPP6MUnFYNPsSMbp43CsTZ78wibxZAakHx8jUFB6GW9Yz-eQ0ZE5J5iR8A08SNX6pp9DuBYP5OxVCfG9odu4MaEQjxTuuhaflTu2FqsafLy6hHfi7CIA-fe239daDnCjQZKxfmhZqmTRHp-EJoFwfuCgvCAWWfBcjNp8eKqk/s4032/58A74634-B602-41DB-8F00-54E6811419FD.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfoM34wbHKFuOl0919iGdQPP6MUnFYNPsSMbp43CsTZ78wibxZAakHx8jUFB6GW9Yz-eQ0ZE5J5iR8A08SNX6pp9DuBYP5OxVCfG9odu4MaEQjxTuuhaflTu2FqsafLy6hHfi7CIA-fe239daDnCjQZKxfmhZqmTRHp-EJoFwfuCgvCAWWfBcjNp8eKqk/s16000/58A74634-B602-41DB-8F00-54E6811419FD.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Being a parent is slowly turning me into a Halloween person, something I have never been remotely bothered about before. I have no recollection whatsoever of carving a pumpkin before last year and yet this year, I'm buying tickets for us to go to the pumpkin patch several weeks in advance.</div><div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I do love a tradition, particularly during the colder months, and I am on a pretty stubborn path to fill Alfie's childhood with lots of little seasonal traditions. Our second year at the pumpkin patch only cemented this because there was genuinely something a little <i>emotional </i>about being back in the same place and seeing how much Alfie had changed (and quite frankly, how much mine and Gary's eyebags have decreased) in a year. Not to disparage the baby years but I can't help feel that this parenting gig gets a whole lot more fun as they get older. The amount of things Alfie could now engage with - we climbed the tire tower, crawled through the tunnels, had a ride in a wheelbarrow, pushed the wheelbarrow and, let me tell you, the rideable tractors and enormous inflatable tractor went down an absolute treat for our tractor-obsessed kid. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I mean, okay sure, he refused to wear wellies and had a tantrum when Mummy wouldn't give him her full attention because she was ordering churros (priorities ya know?), and we did have to make a swift exit when he jumped into the biggest swamp of mud in his trainers and, surprise surprise, did not enjoy the feeling of mud seeping into his shoes but you gotta take the rough with the smooth. We picked a pumpkin and felt like we were providing our child with wholesome childhood experiences. And I got to eat churros. Everyone's (sort of) a winner. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXWrUcUDaw7f48RY4QiVTliwQQJhQL6NG_tFWweTlxWzSKfdW5FJvHpwGhXNVzq3oMzdp5rLIA8ugNVXJS4EgqV4EKqFLjg3I7uVkylnYHglOg_-ymZZK30qX0dOct25aqxITo1toPG8k26wc_yTPG2z533g-g_8rYbBe_xpgvAm0shlm55mCSRLT6j1w/s4032/C8EBEA17-70BC-48DE-BCD3-8DF64E5DBFE5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXWrUcUDaw7f48RY4QiVTliwQQJhQL6NG_tFWweTlxWzSKfdW5FJvHpwGhXNVzq3oMzdp5rLIA8ugNVXJS4EgqV4EKqFLjg3I7uVkylnYHglOg_-ymZZK30qX0dOct25aqxITo1toPG8k26wc_yTPG2z533g-g_8rYbBe_xpgvAm0shlm55mCSRLT6j1w/s16000/C8EBEA17-70BC-48DE-BCD3-8DF64E5DBFE5.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTlloxgoLlZG2dcKkY-eB__gSaXNDC2p7Sj4vV_1XwpHb7WSNxbYa7oWUyPQljuvAJdqCsg55iBEBO0MZOB8jaaAA7LEDhDB0F6aXLGRs9el4o292G99rgSQXtmrzRc1VTPibJrqnCWzvmdKlvRmcevVw9j_qchHn15zc3FLtXFp7PDVJmXLBvmwQ4q8/s2100/99E5D9F2-9CF9-477E-9072-55A590A61DF1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWTlloxgoLlZG2dcKkY-eB__gSaXNDC2p7Sj4vV_1XwpHb7WSNxbYa7oWUyPQljuvAJdqCsg55iBEBO0MZOB8jaaAA7LEDhDB0F6aXLGRs9el4o292G99rgSQXtmrzRc1VTPibJrqnCWzvmdKlvRmcevVw9j_qchHn15zc3FLtXFp7PDVJmXLBvmwQ4q8/s16000/99E5D9F2-9CF9-477E-9072-55A590A61DF1.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbK-baDAte37s5te0a1Ee35tNf9Nmra9ZTbCpMPdpTWEl2aeBX0LmtKuUeyhfitj4BQ0jcc0Y4WoL5fva679M78H5pjAc8upSvea6YJb2rd5OCCLfrol8Fb5U_GXKqXw8eQvHY1uVA5AmJLtZ3MCyPFm8u0UpM9N-maD-LeewHllqJxJysRNXX3P4Wpk/s4032/8A0797BD-2115-43FA-B5A7-B89B6D74F7D4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizbK-baDAte37s5te0a1Ee35tNf9Nmra9ZTbCpMPdpTWEl2aeBX0LmtKuUeyhfitj4BQ0jcc0Y4WoL5fva679M78H5pjAc8upSvea6YJb2rd5OCCLfrol8Fb5U_GXKqXw8eQvHY1uVA5AmJLtZ3MCyPFm8u0UpM9N-maD-LeewHllqJxJysRNXX3P4Wpk/s16000/8A0797BD-2115-43FA-B5A7-B89B6D74F7D4.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodYCNPuxj9Iw7i6X6MhOTRH-ideTsCsftSR8RC0KbOr0YvB6LCGbrLPAEMc8mQQit3qQIIJfEpTeYcSMjj1dVm9hRIL65dabFbHQZGFXqRpBY28B5t0wLCD_z-yrl6lRj1C8NLWa8cycprRVDEoDQ03dQPxJF_L9fc_NAYteVyiWbVAyQPujDQ_mwu0E/s4032/0C6C89D3-3D1D-4D5C-AAED-671611A30E5B.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2916" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiodYCNPuxj9Iw7i6X6MhOTRH-ideTsCsftSR8RC0KbOr0YvB6LCGbrLPAEMc8mQQit3qQIIJfEpTeYcSMjj1dVm9hRIL65dabFbHQZGFXqRpBY28B5t0wLCD_z-yrl6lRj1C8NLWa8cycprRVDEoDQ03dQPxJF_L9fc_NAYteVyiWbVAyQPujDQ_mwu0E/s16000/0C6C89D3-3D1D-4D5C-AAED-671611A30E5B.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96PumOWUhxr3Fp5GoiKSruFvb0mROwWIr8dAObioW24AS-SejCPhwiJ3mg882E8Dhb2Q7MfWK2K6pMJpQCpuZpGVpRpcwS41p81nPZJdoXV7fjgZMJQf6yE7LBi08sk7daCjKds98xl-zHCOlVRvXRLXcnv-RsYTBjB9xsxyQPBUlIlPYDnGVplr_7D8/s4032/0579C78D-DE69-4927-9822-BFF98635AC7E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96PumOWUhxr3Fp5GoiKSruFvb0mROwWIr8dAObioW24AS-SejCPhwiJ3mg882E8Dhb2Q7MfWK2K6pMJpQCpuZpGVpRpcwS41p81nPZJdoXV7fjgZMJQf6yE7LBi08sk7daCjKds98xl-zHCOlVRvXRLXcnv-RsYTBjB9xsxyQPBUlIlPYDnGVplr_7D8/s16000/0579C78D-DE69-4927-9822-BFF98635AC7E.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNvwWwY4h0DvG3jtKAiFvq7A8O1SQQT3Z9rWOZX6ZPR3QrUAOrzqEVYUWs5CbW8lT16quxF-FmnTfKWtWi48wwTzWB_bBUbju1yit_awDJVvh5McPf_hFH9hszBJ-wd4n7FrOFirssQzixYIGtsWxGDb0-gqNfL-lqBnazkQpc6oZXmq5nl4-gOUY8WE/s2100/349A5D81-0DA6-4C07-967A-B6F8AFEEC494.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTNvwWwY4h0DvG3jtKAiFvq7A8O1SQQT3Z9rWOZX6ZPR3QrUAOrzqEVYUWs5CbW8lT16quxF-FmnTfKWtWi48wwTzWB_bBUbju1yit_awDJVvh5McPf_hFH9hszBJ-wd4n7FrOFirssQzixYIGtsWxGDb0-gqNfL-lqBnazkQpc6oZXmq5nl4-gOUY8WE/s16000/349A5D81-0DA6-4C07-967A-B6F8AFEEC494.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrU69Worb1JhmB7wkY9lVZtLyoBJahec27Et5qppYS0TsToqMt3hVxEVYZtrZlWVVezJqVL83rr9XfSxurEKcS1DLt_PY_mGZuGiV15fYLCrf_gFQEe__q7JSZYDlUY9qqJy09vepeVYu6q09aEebxddGZddKAQngM3A9yePJs0nGno5TjcAuPJBU5X0/s4032/AAF87FC7-671C-4BD9-A7D8-CDE9EDE48F8E.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOrU69Worb1JhmB7wkY9lVZtLyoBJahec27Et5qppYS0TsToqMt3hVxEVYZtrZlWVVezJqVL83rr9XfSxurEKcS1DLt_PY_mGZuGiV15fYLCrf_gFQEe__q7JSZYDlUY9qqJy09vepeVYu6q09aEebxddGZddKAQngM3A9yePJs0nGno5TjcAuPJBU5X0/s16000/AAF87FC7-671C-4BD9-A7D8-CDE9EDE48F8E.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbXFCbI1UEuqeHeUhgCqs1L9n11DKC4CivFCoFigSaMaZl7o4mY_qHEeCf_cBmV0VhIgA2tTRPf89jwYF1fZW8xd7Xk9mzRBlTXXnmoQLXLkfIXhnTfqT_L1D0jdLjoJwofgHT6G35EFp7u1Tg4BvB4LPa5gvcZs37HPvj0eYU7bBVsXxtQaG9Atlpvw/s4032/5E496A62-0396-47EB-97F7-8E56F6A63429.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Pumpkin patch" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpbXFCbI1UEuqeHeUhgCqs1L9n11DKC4CivFCoFigSaMaZl7o4mY_qHEeCf_cBmV0VhIgA2tTRPf89jwYF1fZW8xd7Xk9mzRBlTXXnmoQLXLkfIXhnTfqT_L1D0jdLjoJwofgHT6G35EFp7u1Tg4BvB4LPa5gvcZs37HPvj0eYU7bBVsXxtQaG9Atlpvw/s16000/5E496A62-0396-47EB-97F7-8E56F6A63429.jpeg" title="Pumpkin patch" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-35738429906231400662023-10-18T22:00:00.007+01:002023-10-19T08:26:10.195+01:00Bookshop Hopping & Wedding Planning Day In London <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeV4Rm5ihemFlmA_yVXw4gds0arJJjUqPbPH-2e8AAId_gHHwA91K3g1785kS7dftOR3MoaxN70sfkO-iuNDRhTFYJhkOkMHP79Xz2P4TcUJplMqxCQcuc4EABjRFOOBcl_hLdEOyWaDgdTke21CUIS9VbbTGedWzgef_jFdy2BanKDPsZ2bi550S514/s4032/IMG_0908.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Daunt Books, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQeV4Rm5ihemFlmA_yVXw4gds0arJJjUqPbPH-2e8AAId_gHHwA91K3g1785kS7dftOR3MoaxN70sfkO-iuNDRhTFYJhkOkMHP79Xz2P4TcUJplMqxCQcuc4EABjRFOOBcl_hLdEOyWaDgdTke21CUIS9VbbTGedWzgef_jFdy2BanKDPsZ2bi550S514/s16000/IMG_0908.jpeg" title="Daunt Books, London" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">THIS WAS A GOOD DAY. A combination of stopping breastfeeding, Alfie’s sleep improving <i>and</i> him finally allowing his dad to do bedtime means your girl suddenly has more energy and a fraction more freedom to go and do adult things. Tumble Tots is great and all but good lord, so is a day without pushing a buggy and not spending two hours teaching a toddler to say tractor (yeah okay, him saying ‘tacta’ is officially the cutest thing in the world but that’s not the point right now). <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I boarded a train into London with just my book for company, and there was something so freeing about knowing I wasn’t on any kind of deadline. It was one of those journeys where everything worked in my favour; arriving-on-the-tube-platform-and-an-open-train-door-right-in-front-of-me kind of vibe.<br /> </p><p style="text-align: center;">This was a day of quality time with my favourite sister. Okay, she’s my only sister but she <i>is</i> my favourite. I was well overdue seeing the flat she moved into over a year ago so that was my first port of call. I sort of already felt like I knew it because I’d seen a lot of pictures, but I will never not enjoy nosing at all the little nooks and crannies of someone’s home. Cue lots of discussions about the contents of her bookshelf. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">She showed me round her local area, and we stopped for lunch at a café that had an excellent array of sandwiches and smoothies. And then it was officially wedding-venue-viewing time, and I was very excited to see them in person. We started at the pub where she is having her reception (which I <i>loved</i>), had a leisurely drink in the garden and discussed bands, speeches, cakes etc before making our way to the ceremony venue. We couldn’t go in, but it was great to see it in person and visualise the day, even more so when a just-married couple walked out – the bridesmaid dresses were the exact same shade we will be wearing, <i>and</i> they had a red London bus to transport the guests which is a theme on my sister’s day. We made lots of undignified squealing noises (at a safe distance from the newlyweds who did not need two weird women ruining their moment). <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We then wandered over to Marylebone high street and into Daunt Books where there were more squealing noises because we are book nerds and not afraid to show it. I have wanted to go to Daunt Books for a long time and it lived up to all expectations. The travel theme, the mezzanines, the arched window; what a gorgeous little spot for a book lover. Whilst we were discussing the merits of a good bookshop, my sister realised I had never been to Foyles and decided this had to be rectified immediately. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3KB5tFhIBmRZ5TjjaUHPIPM2pQgcoDaZk9KGabkMKT3LDGMYptCj11JjYHdEnzuumWfYsLBnJhLxmQyHgAdAtfmFi1W9Sh2PvA0Vs8QDGLItPosQsHZJsO8CGfZiMfbLWmGJ5qqKwLQQGJ_HLWU9kU5FFvYlwWv9aO2mdjzED-wAteVV9rOZr9I8qG8/s4032/IMG_0883.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS3KB5tFhIBmRZ5TjjaUHPIPM2pQgcoDaZk9KGabkMKT3LDGMYptCj11JjYHdEnzuumWfYsLBnJhLxmQyHgAdAtfmFi1W9Sh2PvA0Vs8QDGLItPosQsHZJsO8CGfZiMfbLWmGJ5qqKwLQQGJ_HLWU9kU5FFvYlwWv9aO2mdjzED-wAteVV9rOZr9I8qG8/s16000/IMG_0883.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXy8S8HUBat246f2PI6CN5d8YxOqL9lKU3Yhfo0dbQn2CDd_YtdzThqqhaBbFVDe1FtnNFCqKYd05VGvJuJ1wnB6gZnqM6QQp6vBHNfqQajU0PXof2AqQPx9LaIQohCDJO0PV09kOlFhRQ7aifU2LlkbxW_S3ePclk7Id6zZZvdbXe1qF2vnlPa28HtY/s4032/IMG_0891.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXy8S8HUBat246f2PI6CN5d8YxOqL9lKU3Yhfo0dbQn2CDd_YtdzThqqhaBbFVDe1FtnNFCqKYd05VGvJuJ1wnB6gZnqM6QQp6vBHNfqQajU0PXof2AqQPx9LaIQohCDJO0PV09kOlFhRQ7aifU2LlkbxW_S3ePclk7Id6zZZvdbXe1qF2vnlPa28HtY/s16000/IMG_0891.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6j8y76lIfbte6tCYtlS8YpDA31d8KC7vytAyMWMC4RngInunNYbgnNnOPw8_xtzrxCn1yZt3rYk8tKJqLA6J6Q3eqyGegQMFo3GOSdewK4Cvs17S0IAaASiNS0j6h7ZnoCXXJrOBd3sE0egfaStpFmWI2i0tT6ufNrzO7iTmpo_YY17MRj_uPd9nCyM/s4032/IMG_0906.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6j8y76lIfbte6tCYtlS8YpDA31d8KC7vytAyMWMC4RngInunNYbgnNnOPw8_xtzrxCn1yZt3rYk8tKJqLA6J6Q3eqyGegQMFo3GOSdewK4Cvs17S0IAaASiNS0j6h7ZnoCXXJrOBd3sE0egfaStpFmWI2i0tT6ufNrzO7iTmpo_YY17MRj_uPd9nCyM/s16000/IMG_0906.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FZTAik0pdTTizp7RXLzuMllHcvqHpxePJVbQ6fTCW5Qhh13Mx8VqAdnFZZCo_GVeCqhyPtsHCMa-tB_ffPhSkMstUn1O3aETv2k4pAXMSSF-l0HtYQkrRJHGYa01pN6RffAa22eBc4MUJyuLIp928ztgV9eNEnPzaXHdjhelxbVV4ZBGi3_ywFwQ82o/s4032/IMG_0910.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1FZTAik0pdTTizp7RXLzuMllHcvqHpxePJVbQ6fTCW5Qhh13Mx8VqAdnFZZCo_GVeCqhyPtsHCMa-tB_ffPhSkMstUn1O3aETv2k4pAXMSSF-l0HtYQkrRJHGYa01pN6RffAa22eBc4MUJyuLIp928ztgV9eNEnPzaXHdjhelxbVV4ZBGi3_ywFwQ82o/s16000/IMG_0910.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscF5gaQxhX4bSetGMjq4zHaFpiSYchKxLCNNlkOKZsiI77H6ER7NidbiFYAj5rv4AOXiP0wxNSaD2mF8DXZ_SMJIIY6UfPPTdinmaLZURyvfDRlXrMZJ_dF4ru5slRRoHo6zfmFwAtfu2qK_0sCeFGVaWT4Nb9yeU1TmsrzqxWvkKdWwAg5YKaSroakk/s4032/IMG_0921.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscF5gaQxhX4bSetGMjq4zHaFpiSYchKxLCNNlkOKZsiI77H6ER7NidbiFYAj5rv4AOXiP0wxNSaD2mF8DXZ_SMJIIY6UfPPTdinmaLZURyvfDRlXrMZJ_dF4ru5slRRoHo6zfmFwAtfu2qK_0sCeFGVaWT4Nb9yeU1TmsrzqxWvkKdWwAg5YKaSroakk/s16000/IMG_0921.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Just before though, we took a little break to sit outside a Pret and drink chai lattes and then detoured to Astrid & Miyu to shop for wedding jewellery. I have become a little obsessed with Astrid & Miyu in recent years. Whilst I only own one pair of earrings from there, I regularly browse their website and fantasise about all the other items I would like to own (spoiler: everything). So, we had a lot of fun browsing their store in-person and picking out potential items for my sister to wear on her wedding day. <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And then we momentarily lost our minds and walked down Oxford Street at 5pm on a Friday. I do not recommend doing this unless you have an epic bookshop waiting for you at the end of it. Only an obscene amount of books can make up for the obscene amount of people we had to wade through.</div><div><br /></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUsMobbs9ObWjnhWb3VAq2EJ01uQtZ_0rdZcjJczgI9DFoMvjZpE4M7NwMnFToqSaEzRtKmTKDDGuRnPlv-Y2GEuyBb9mJ1MOM60TBzRv18rl5tGKBHJpwe0hyQ_PztPxcq054HpO10G2K-LneKugrEOOqSD2p1bq4e1ovv1DuyAFMX5CQl1Wa1gcfUE/s3088/IMG_0935.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrUsMobbs9ObWjnhWb3VAq2EJ01uQtZ_0rdZcjJczgI9DFoMvjZpE4M7NwMnFToqSaEzRtKmTKDDGuRnPlv-Y2GEuyBb9mJ1MOM60TBzRv18rl5tGKBHJpwe0hyQ_PztPxcq054HpO10G2K-LneKugrEOOqSD2p1bq4e1ovv1DuyAFMX5CQl1Wa1gcfUE/s16000/IMG_0935.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKAPN1foa5oBZc5nMZerTqmo2_duudqnrhM3JKCLgfCMGweNKNAoWk_Qc6HxtaUEJCrFhA5d4BotE5u0MCAcnyF0GKBJneZo4P3rmvBKamEqLJnnS2uzYlGCYYeXudxixI2LrGYBFaaSqPE1KNeWwzo8l7pcWMk6S1sf78n2KUzENYj92dXbjFOGeOqM/s3961/IMG_0940.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Bookshop hopping, London" border="0" data-original-height="3961" data-original-width="2971" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglKAPN1foa5oBZc5nMZerTqmo2_duudqnrhM3JKCLgfCMGweNKNAoWk_Qc6HxtaUEJCrFhA5d4BotE5u0MCAcnyF0GKBJneZo4P3rmvBKamEqLJnnS2uzYlGCYYeXudxixI2LrGYBFaaSqPE1KNeWwzo8l7pcWMk6S1sf78n2KUzENYj92dXbjFOGeOqM/s16000/IMG_0940.jpeg" title="Bookshop hopping, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Foyles was worth it though. <i>Welcome book lover, you are among friends</i> reads the greeting as you gaze, open-mouthed, at the five levels of books towering before you. I think this is the biggest bookshop I have been to date, and I was very happy about the situation. Ironically, I couldn’t actually find a copy of the book I was hoping to buy, until my sister suddenly spotted a single signed copy at the bottom of a book trolley. What a win. <br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I’m not sure how long we browsed for, but at some point, we realised we needed to go find food if I was going to get a reasonable timed train home. We had Wagamama in mind and, thankfully, they are a bit like rats in London: never more than a few feet away. We soon found one and settled down to natter about books over katsu curry, udon noodles and gyoza. It was a joy, heightened by the fact that I ended up on a train two hours later than planned and, for the first time since Alfie was born, <i>this was no big deal. <br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I love my gorgeous boy, but it feels truly excellent to be able to have days like these again and it was so lovely to have some one-on-one time with my sister. </div></div><p></p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-64823528986180927652023-10-04T20:20:00.001+01:002023-12-31T14:35:46.030+00:00Recent Happy Things | September Edition<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh450tJg36T-9yIGDS3cpl6ghH-2tOtESoLWeQqj_M-t6aSdcBBaBnIeGWxKap0Nfy3ixLoIMkJ_KhyphenhyphenOKHqwj-ZNCnbbjm1JTQkRqAP2rOpYaA6vn5KdzU-PCQ1xBmO2Lsp9s-6fLdyYLs8qjWfZSDNUbQEhFjJs30yoNQ8iTrUxfx36wBSfoC_DhvxXZA/s4032/B5D00ED2-393A-4EDD-8157-F7701559511F.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="September" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh450tJg36T-9yIGDS3cpl6ghH-2tOtESoLWeQqj_M-t6aSdcBBaBnIeGWxKap0Nfy3ixLoIMkJ_KhyphenhyphenOKHqwj-ZNCnbbjm1JTQkRqAP2rOpYaA6vn5KdzU-PCQ1xBmO2Lsp9s-6fLdyYLs8qjWfZSDNUbQEhFjJs30yoNQ8iTrUxfx36wBSfoC_DhvxXZA/s16000/B5D00ED2-393A-4EDD-8157-F7701559511F.jpeg" title="September" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Wasn’t September a lovely halfway house between summer and autumn? And then, almost poetically, October came and there’s been gloom and rain, I’ve lit several candles and we’re discussing Christmas. You <i>know</i> I’m loving it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Talking about the importance of the little things in <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2023/09/in-defence-of-routine.html" target="_blank">this post</a> got me thinking about how I used to regularly note down all the day-to-day loveliness and it’s really nice to have those memories to look back on. So, here’s a few from the last month, remind me to keep at it. <br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div><b>Saturday morning routines</b> – we got into a lovely little routine on September Saturdays which involved going out for cinnamon buns at our favourite bakery first thing, soaking in the market and then taking Alfie to either the little soft play area in town, or to the park, before taking him home for his favourite lunch (baked beans all day, every day). <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Swimming</b> – similarly, we established a semi-regular Sunday morning routine of swimming. This is the first time we’ve consistently taken Alfie swimming and he loves it! So many giggles as we go up and down the pool batting an inflatable ball about. <br /><br /></div><div><b>Joining a writing group</b> – sort of by accident if I’m honest, because I got chatting to a woman also called Kate, also a writer, in a café and then there was someone else called Kate and suddenly we were browsing the bookshop and I was persuaded to come join the local writer’s group. You kinda had to be there. It is very nice to have people to discuss a shared interest, particularly when it is often quite an isolated hobby. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8ouUcIxE7dtEMb-cC7xLi9bU0F6sWRoz7BxRhcAyNoxj90xm59EvihK_byFqGBGW_fV3Ki2ZMirlyOgCvt07F4MU7Ncf_c9iKx5RW0Zee_s65H-Q6VuxJquTjJErK2PBwvJ2js8cTKj4ytFzcRLA4ywUXe0pysdLh0q5uecnt_TJeYXNpNH7fQuS4Vw/s3888/2D504306-261A-4A63-84C4-5C2C74439514.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="September" border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8ouUcIxE7dtEMb-cC7xLi9bU0F6sWRoz7BxRhcAyNoxj90xm59EvihK_byFqGBGW_fV3Ki2ZMirlyOgCvt07F4MU7Ncf_c9iKx5RW0Zee_s65H-Q6VuxJquTjJErK2PBwvJ2js8cTKj4ytFzcRLA4ywUXe0pysdLh0q5uecnt_TJeYXNpNH7fQuS4Vw/s16000/2D504306-261A-4A63-84C4-5C2C74439514.jpeg" title="September" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndpp9hpASQ1__55z2Kr2ds1yw5m6iDjv8oP7CZWNKsa5W7hvXbEq-2U7cQ29OlSiAl_BtpT01DnEOjfbMOSHSNYCQNH3NVoWfXcL_st0r6i4b_bD6mqL7waaf7tjYbL1CRNvQlx1n3rWeTGhPnExfERyXZWbbvspErivGmIYE3rDLCi_21qz7tbkBtZ0/s4032/54163BB4-E779-4727-BDD8-2C7DB740405D.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="September" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgndpp9hpASQ1__55z2Kr2ds1yw5m6iDjv8oP7CZWNKsa5W7hvXbEq-2U7cQ29OlSiAl_BtpT01DnEOjfbMOSHSNYCQNH3NVoWfXcL_st0r6i4b_bD6mqL7waaf7tjYbL1CRNvQlx1n3rWeTGhPnExfERyXZWbbvspErivGmIYE3rDLCi_21qz7tbkBtZ0/s16000/54163BB4-E779-4727-BDD8-2C7DB740405D.jpeg" title="September" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nTkIXs5qP6JATnf1Yza8bBj-gSTOIfKtdU3n7TxV45daV8VWSxEXy8mxwugDswQ4hhzZXhF1er8B8QRopA4BzjJac-ndBa7sscifSMhQdtzV4u5eOx4fU6Ddrzvoh91k5n5iFCs0fIfKdb-DpnFc-zj8CqpAbB0eczpd4Uo71EaiLNgmxZeqbskk4sI/s4032/3FD47198-13AF-47FB-A19E-037828E16939.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="September" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nTkIXs5qP6JATnf1Yza8bBj-gSTOIfKtdU3n7TxV45daV8VWSxEXy8mxwugDswQ4hhzZXhF1er8B8QRopA4BzjJac-ndBa7sscifSMhQdtzV4u5eOx4fU6Ddrzvoh91k5n5iFCs0fIfKdb-DpnFc-zj8CqpAbB0eczpd4Uo71EaiLNgmxZeqbskk4sI/s16000/3FD47198-13AF-47FB-A19E-037828E16939.jpeg" title="September" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><b>Book event</b> – Jürgen Krauss of <i>Bake Off</i> is touring with his new cookbook <i>German Baking</i>, and I had a very nice solo evening out to go to one of his events hosted by my local bookshop. I ate cake, picked up a copy of his book and listened to a lot of likeminded people talk about different types of flour. It was excellent, and a great way to kick off a new <i>Bake Off </i>season. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div><b>The best day in London with my sister </b>– this was actually the first time I have left Alfie where I haven’t been on a deadline to get back to feed/do bedtime and it was MARVELLOUS. For 12 hours, I could be entirely adult and entirely free of parenting duties. My sister and I had so much fun talking for England, bookshop hopping and wedding planning. Just the best. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>How was your September dear reader? </div></div></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-17397979586001252842023-09-28T15:40:00.006+01:002023-09-28T20:11:38.800+01:00One Minute Book Reviews: What I’ve Been Reading This Summer <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ9ysBCSlXrNO1ytUEjLYNDJh4_hO9hZNIamw6Jb2mT4ChimeJkQ_2kCFur3M9w17yQLSy6wzJpGES-YDwW281g1-fKfLxkKQoAO0cPceNm1FXSZq0GyhqU5YdKC_wDlfnfDBMzFQTNLnThM6H2Wu2e66zCSNH3b90oxveCTQRXKOepRbCUcRchWMlbTk/s4032/Summer%20reading.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Summer reading" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ9ysBCSlXrNO1ytUEjLYNDJh4_hO9hZNIamw6Jb2mT4ChimeJkQ_2kCFur3M9w17yQLSy6wzJpGES-YDwW281g1-fKfLxkKQoAO0cPceNm1FXSZq0GyhqU5YdKC_wDlfnfDBMzFQTNLnThM6H2Wu2e66zCSNH3b90oxveCTQRXKOepRbCUcRchWMlbTk/s16000/Summer%20reading.jpg" title="Summer reading" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">There's dragons, there's love stories, there's planes sinking to the bottom of the ocean. We travel to America, to Singapore and everywhere in between. Here's everything I've been reading this summer:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Romantic Comedy by Curtis Sittenfeld<br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">This was fun! It does what says it on the tin – a romantic comedy, but between a ‘normal’ person and an international star. Sally, a writer working for a legendary late-night comedy show swears off love, fed up of average men dating beautiful, accomplished women but not vice versa. But then she works with Noah, a pop idol, for a week and they click instantly. Would someone like him ever date someone like her? I liked the three very different parts – comedy show in New York, email train and romance during lockdown. It made it stand out from the usual genre format. Slick and funny. 4/5<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The Vintage Shop of Second Chances by Libby Page <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Libby Page has become my go-to for light-hearted, not-to-taxing but still-with-a-little-reality reads. If that’s a genre. I like that she writes about real women and real female friendships. Her novels are great if you want an uplifting read that isn’t about romance. I saved this to read during <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2023/08/how-to-spend-gentle-week-in-around.html" target="_blank">our holiday in Frome, Somerset </a>because that’s also where the novel is set. Based around a fictional vintage clothes shop, this is about three women of different ages who are desperately searching for a chance to start again. It celebrates the power of friends, community and excellent clothes during hard times. 3.5/5<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Drowning: The Rescue of Flight 1421 by T.J. Newman<br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">If you happen to have just watched <i>Hijack </i>on Apple TV and want something to read in a similar vein, this would be a good place to start. A slightly bonkers-but-just-about-still-believable thriller that doesn’t let up from page one. Flight 1421 crashes into the ocean six minutes after take-off. Most passengers escape onto the lifeboats but 12 are still trapped inside when the plane sinks to the bottom of the ocean and lands, half-teetering, on the edge of an underwater cliff. Cue an absurd, race-against-low-oxygen rescue mission that is highly entertaining. 4/5 <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Last One At The Party by Bethany Clift <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">The majority of the human race is wiped out by a virus and a woman in her thirties finds herself alone in London, a city now filled with rotting corpses and burning pyres. She is woefully unequipped to deal with the new world she finds herself in and I <i>loved</i> that about her. She’s not a protagonist who just happens to have skills or knowledge that makes them perfectly set up to survive the end of the world, she is every one of us. She checks Instagram to see if anyone else is still alive, she has no idea how to survive without power and she has spent her whole life conforming to other people. The question is, who will she be now she is truly alone? I have thought about this book a lot since I finished reading it. I found it disturbing because it felt very realistic; I didn’t doubt any detail of the new world the protagonist found herself in and it was richly detailed (perhaps don’t read whilst eating). But I also thought it was brilliant story with a big character arc, and a fresh take on the post-apocalyptic genre. I would love to read a sequel, or another story set in the same world. 5/5<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Taste: My Life Through Food by Stanley Tucci <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">A charming little memoir about a life in and out of the kitchen, written by actor and food obsessive, Stanley Tucci. If you’re a foodie or enjoy food writing, I would definitely recommend this regardless of whether you have an interest in Tucci as an actor. This is a lovely book full of anecdotes and reflections about food and the joys of life. Plus a few great tales involving some big names. 3.5/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK96C2-R3DKIseKecbe23qNIRPagUNkcgV0Bjg6PVMy9Y8tj8Vpe1hh3seAvBD3Skr6qhACi6wavesC4-HB6Mi5fhdfyOUIUp7jPb6iY9gH4FNb9qrc835-czoPu5aOcXfMKBpRrSB7_fS7RjdGl8YDEMCnPeYkXqlcbmiAv_Uuf6N6QUWOcIaVY-fNg/s4032/The%20Vintage%20Shop.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Summer reading" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfK96C2-R3DKIseKecbe23qNIRPagUNkcgV0Bjg6PVMy9Y8tj8Vpe1hh3seAvBD3Skr6qhACi6wavesC4-HB6Mi5fhdfyOUIUp7jPb6iY9gH4FNb9qrc835-czoPu5aOcXfMKBpRrSB7_fS7RjdGl8YDEMCnPeYkXqlcbmiAv_Uuf6N6QUWOcIaVY-fNg/s16000/The%20Vintage%20Shop.jpg" title="Summer reading" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7H3XKGFg8hegxoDiB75V_ELebLDUfEc7FSvaOmsCSEPLPekKRM3wUKCtPSt9vrrBm_ZjGdr7I8Nk24H1sv3jQw3AJmZd7gjk7CcPQJrfBOfAKQgqtMP8MMF5fOseAMH7VVK_jiFFUQ5PbX1LUIZDwy-xT3cHS1e1NZZRt1cOvilhYfDL1DsfzntPxznI/s3088/Last%20one%20at%20the%20party.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Summer reading" border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7H3XKGFg8hegxoDiB75V_ELebLDUfEc7FSvaOmsCSEPLPekKRM3wUKCtPSt9vrrBm_ZjGdr7I8Nk24H1sv3jQw3AJmZd7gjk7CcPQJrfBOfAKQgqtMP8MMF5fOseAMH7VVK_jiFFUQ5PbX1LUIZDwy-xT3cHS1e1NZZRt1cOvilhYfDL1DsfzntPxznI/s16000/Last%20one%20at%20the%20party.jpg" title="Summer reading" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnVbT7f67vThTnB2fbHM3WlR0B1FJLGo7aVlNF5qUHPHRctQXMwSaE9YLA302_OkwxH9tkM8p1tZYKScdUyoTu14B-DP1pcLYn_JzfKMeGsh_gwu__ILWnzQXwewhZGdiuhn3OUH4eLbXb4jagwWHEeuWv-ziYE4JRwDnhnpT_przTS0XEhs9Emmc_Y8/s4032/Drowning.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Summer reading" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnVbT7f67vThTnB2fbHM3WlR0B1FJLGo7aVlNF5qUHPHRctQXMwSaE9YLA302_OkwxH9tkM8p1tZYKScdUyoTu14B-DP1pcLYn_JzfKMeGsh_gwu__ILWnzQXwewhZGdiuhn3OUH4eLbXb4jagwWHEeuWv-ziYE4JRwDnhnpT_przTS0XEhs9Emmc_Y8/s16000/Drowning.jpg" title="Summer reading" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Everything’s Fine by Cecilia Rabess </b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Set in the years between Barack Obama becoming president and Donald Trump becoming president, we follow the relationship between Josh & Jess, two analysts working at Goldman Sachs in New York and explore whether it is possible for a black liberal woman and a white conservative man to be happily in love. It considers how far one can separate a person from their beliefs, and how important shared values are in a relationship. This was a brilliant, clever, socially astute book. I have thought about the ending a lot since finishing, and there is a scene involving a maga hat that was so brilliant and haunting. I would highly recommend. 5/5<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>In Such Tremendous Heat by Kehinde Fadipe<br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Three Nigerian expat women living in Singapore all have their lives upturned by the arrival of a stranger. I had mixed feelings on this one; I enjoyed the Singapore setting and the rich array of characters, but I thought the plot was a bit thin on the ground. The link between one of the women and the stranger was tenuous at best and I didn’t find their connection particularly believable. I think ultimately, I just expected more to happen and I’m not sure the characters were interesting enough to make up for the lack of plot. 2.5/5<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">I came because of the internet and stayed for the grumpy dragons. This was pure escapism, and I was here for it. It’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea, but I do have a bit of a weak spot for this style of book. At Basgiath War College, Violet is joining hundreds of candidates striving to become elite dragon riders. You either graduate or die. She’s smaller than everyone else, most people would kill her for being the general’s daughter and war is looming outside the college walls. And she has to train alongside her sworn enemy (who is inconveniently attractive). It is technically an adult book but reminded me a lot of some of the really great YA books I grew up with (think <i>Hunger Games, Divergent</i>). My only gripe was I found the two explicit sex scenes just a bit cringey and out of place, perhaps because it was reminding me of other YA books. Otherwise, absorbing world building, sassy dragons, great enemies-to-lovers storyline, and I have the sequel on pre-order. 4.5/5 <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Book Lovers by Emily Henry <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Alright, so I was pleasantly surprised by this book. I was tired, it was summer – I wanted a ‘beach read’ for want of a better phrase but there can be a lot of poorly written-shite in that genre so I didn’t have particularly high expectations. A literary agent and book editor – New Yorkers and professional ‘enemies’ – end up spending the summer in the same small town. They keep bumping into each other and it would be a meet-cute if not for the fact they have met many times before and it’s never been cute. It was funny, I really loved the characters and their banter, and it gave me a lot of nostalgia for watching American rom coms as a teenager. That kind of vibe. I can see why people rate Emily Henry. 4/5<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>This Could Be Everything by Eva Rice <br /><br /></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">Set in Notting Hill in 1990, 19-year-old February Kingdom is hiding away from the world as she grieves the loss of her parents and her twin sister. Then one day, she finds a canary in her kitchen, and it sparks a glimmer of hope in her. Just as she starts to find her way out of the darkness, her aunt starts an affair with a married American drama teacher. This is a gentle coming-of-age story about hope, love and finding reasons to keep going, with a lot of nostalgia for times gone by. An enjoyable read. 4/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Happy reading folks x </p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-77851176357396980032023-09-26T20:03:00.001+01:002023-09-26T20:03:56.172+01:00My Go-To Banana Bread<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrx2nmMnhrB9ls3AOV8Iko3WipLzEWG2RbDN3vkNxFQ0mQKHXeHFs8wo5FTBC9ccdtCUAWAU0lM31XARrJjDABwqnsIg-uW0IPy7fPhQW_WACmsxLuhy-zDirDHBcQngP74DI8TgRCQ39DrXgMJ6zC0nkO7YvCmQPnZZ14Yd6d7x__buT4-TMNtqm_4sw/s4032/F687CB56-8355-41C5-AD66-9D9AAB3F73C5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrx2nmMnhrB9ls3AOV8Iko3WipLzEWG2RbDN3vkNxFQ0mQKHXeHFs8wo5FTBC9ccdtCUAWAU0lM31XARrJjDABwqnsIg-uW0IPy7fPhQW_WACmsxLuhy-zDirDHBcQngP74DI8TgRCQ39DrXgMJ6zC0nkO7YvCmQPnZZ14Yd6d7x__buT4-TMNtqm_4sw/s16000/F687CB56-8355-41C5-AD66-9D9AAB3F73C5.jpeg" title="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Bake Off is back today and there were two black bananas sat forlornly in the fruit bowl. What was I <i>supposed </i>to do?! <br /><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">It is practically illegal for that familiar tune and tent to appear on your TV screens and there not be a sweet treat sat in front of you. Me? Enabler? Dunno what you mean. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">You'll need: </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">2 x bananas, preferably ripe ones but it'll still be delicious if not. </p><p style="text-align: center;">100g unsalted butter, softened in the microwave for about 10-15 seconds if straight out the fridge </p><p style="text-align: center;">150g plain flour</p><p style="text-align: center;">150g caster sugar</p><p style="text-align: center;">1 tsp baking powder</p><p style="text-align: center;">1 tsp bicarbonate of soda</p><p style="text-align: center;">2 large eggs </p><p style="text-align: center;">2 tbsp milk, whatever kind you have in the fridge, dairy or vegan both work. </p><p style="text-align: center;">1 generous tbsp demerara sugar</p><p style="text-align: center;">100g Diary Milk chocolate (this is my personal preference, but obviously, other milk/dark chocolate works)<br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1hJEQpSrhuiKKU8NSIg8GKglYz7eIibhhIeOLGl51I874V-7o1hiURc8as6FcbtMNgMRYqUDPmI6m6CYg-KV1DTd33RDJCyCrmR6Pvyn1WE__5fAZibjCsu0hfUK8tVap6UJoU-bZ1xnnb7Vnbj_Ux-jDu4GcJEafuTguOogbE7OXW-1rtxb9MXMNFQ/s4032/8E211928-1AF0-425E-A05B-A8B8EB782E79.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf1hJEQpSrhuiKKU8NSIg8GKglYz7eIibhhIeOLGl51I874V-7o1hiURc8as6FcbtMNgMRYqUDPmI6m6CYg-KV1DTd33RDJCyCrmR6Pvyn1WE__5fAZibjCsu0hfUK8tVap6UJoU-bZ1xnnb7Vnbj_Ux-jDu4GcJEafuTguOogbE7OXW-1rtxb9MXMNFQ/s16000/8E211928-1AF0-425E-A05B-A8B8EB782E79.jpeg" title="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHyCXc2yFrfOzTvVdXex5PQ4SGoJ9Xk2Ophu3aGGqobn0LrOJfd5681OIRc8vqXH8eTMLlkMDfqVFQYu20vcBQSgaMYq39XR4m0kTKNlkH38a7jVk7CaG-tfzBfl2rOe7dTpqbSp5pNWI28pjntJkOxazb8ZZx2zlEP4Av8fVsPWul5kBefPMJJ31frU/s4032/9DB17042-2982-463D-BA29-5A4D3AFE02BC.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWHyCXc2yFrfOzTvVdXex5PQ4SGoJ9Xk2Ophu3aGGqobn0LrOJfd5681OIRc8vqXH8eTMLlkMDfqVFQYu20vcBQSgaMYq39XR4m0kTKNlkH38a7jVk7CaG-tfzBfl2rOe7dTpqbSp5pNWI28pjntJkOxazb8ZZx2zlEP4Av8fVsPWul5kBefPMJJ31frU/s16000/9DB17042-2982-463D-BA29-5A4D3AFE02BC.jpeg" title="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br />Preheat your oven to 160c (for a fan oven, adjust accordingly for your own). Grease a 2lb loaf tin and line the bottom with baking parchment. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Mash your bananas in a bowl and then add all the ingredients apart from the chocolate and demerara sugar. Mix (by hand if you have muscles, electric hand whisk or in a stand mixer) until combined and smoothish. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Chop the Diary Milk chocolate into little chunks. Maybe chop some into large chunks so you get the occasional bite of gooey chocolatiness but don't do this with all the chocolate otherwise it will all sink to the bottom of the cake. I mean, this isn't necessarily a bad thing so if that floats your boat, then go for it. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Fold the chocolate into your batter. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Pour the batter into the loaf tin. Sprinkle over the demerara sugar; this will create a lovely caramelised, crunchy topping. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Bake for 1 hour, or until whatever you're poking your cake with comes out clean. Again, adjust timings for your own oven. The top will be brown but if it looks like it's browning a little too much, whack some foil over the top and keep going. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Allow to cool in the tin for 10 minutes before carefully decanting onto a cooling rack. It will still be steaming inside for a while longer but I'm not going to stop you from diving in. Enjoy! <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEwmKAW9QfZ-gF6iY_BjXSjecful-gCBP0r0pzKes8Qx82jO40cNCxHp_BvAMT7hTf2TjxTtDiiFeqlpw1jiFVKlccbx17gqRbKovx2z1NfMbL0-CM9TWsbOXq3zMNwXNWAEoW5LCb7So46bDrB7LWY0AvyoogVxnNluAy4iq1FMMkT1tE6-e1gEBTGk/s4032/380DB195-F2E6-4920-BC1F-8D539CB32AE6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvEwmKAW9QfZ-gF6iY_BjXSjecful-gCBP0r0pzKes8Qx82jO40cNCxHp_BvAMT7hTf2TjxTtDiiFeqlpw1jiFVKlccbx17gqRbKovx2z1NfMbL0-CM9TWsbOXq3zMNwXNWAEoW5LCb7So46bDrB7LWY0AvyoogVxnNluAy4iq1FMMkT1tE6-e1gEBTGk/s16000/380DB195-F2E6-4920-BC1F-8D539CB32AE6.jpeg" title="My Go-To Banana Bread Recipe" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-71005036581153762572023-09-24T21:56:00.000+01:002023-09-24T21:56:06.236+01:00In defence of routine, predictability, the little things <p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgokPRbTxf5R2Ywha6y_fs2t30kEC4D_7258tiu1pVWbPiIYtI4BKmmv1-GoACa1mz0A4S-G4947Ty8pvsKD54YlasskBBDda0Fwupkkk31VVCYmdptcLy5PxrYDQURgxsix1dU-Rph-2srRPDK8ZH-Cen8eXMYZBAHkfj3dQtMzW2drIK1VTaOk7lh2v0/s4032/Little%20things.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The little things" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgokPRbTxf5R2Ywha6y_fs2t30kEC4D_7258tiu1pVWbPiIYtI4BKmmv1-GoACa1mz0A4S-G4947Ty8pvsKD54YlasskBBDda0Fwupkkk31VVCYmdptcLy5PxrYDQURgxsix1dU-Rph-2srRPDK8ZH-Cen8eXMYZBAHkfj3dQtMzW2drIK1VTaOk7lh2v0/s16000/Little%20things.jpg" title="The little things" /></a></div><br />Do you remember when I used to start most blog posts with ‘I’m currently sat in café…’? Yeaaaah, some things don’t change, because yup, I’m currently sat in a café, hot chocolate perched next to me despite the fact it is 30c outside. I have learned my lesson from previous years and did not immediately get hyped about autumn the moment 1st September rolled around. There is always a final hurrah for summer so I’m still floating around in lightweight dresses and jumpsuits and trying to embrace the ice creams before my favourite ‘ber’ months kick into action. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I feel like I’m here, but not fully present in this space if that makes sense. Figuring out how to juggle everything with a young child is a never-ending learning curve. I feel like ultimately, the answer is that everything will always be a juggle and I will simultaneously feel like I am on top of everything and on top of nothing, my brain space continuously tugged and yanked in multiple directions. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I’m not quite sure how to finish the short story I’m writing; I think I just need to leave it alone for a bit to figure itself out so, whilst I’m sat in front of my laptop, I thought I’d write an old-school blog post. The type where I just throw thoughts at a page without much foreplaning.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I have been keeping a diary this year. An old-school page-for-each-day Paperchase (RIP) journal that I write in every night – just a few notes about what happened that day. I was motivated by not wanting to forget the minute details of Alfie and the ways he changes and develops all the time and, if I’m honest, because it slightly freaked me out how much sleep deprivation was affecting my perception of time and how I remembered things. I wanted a physical record to check when I felt a little like I was losing my mind. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">Thankfully, our sleep quality has improved since the start of the year and I trust my memory a lot more again, but the need to capture details of Alfie remains. Recently, I had a flick through things I have recorded and was struck by a) how many details even a non-sleep deprived person can forget so quickly and b) by how many of our weeks look, well, the same. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">There is predictability in our lives at the moment. The days Alfie goes to nursery, who gets up with him on which day, likewise, who does bedtime, the one afternoon a week I sit in a café with my laptop, the day the weekly shop comes, the activities and lunches I cycle through on the days I look after Alfie; there’s variation but the bones of it look the same week in, week out. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;">I think my pre-baby self may have looked at this from the outside and wondered if life was boring. It probably would be to some people. But I’ve been surprised by how much contentment I am finding in our current routine. It is predictable but it’s also full of all these little joyous moments that make up a pretty lovely life. I’ve always been a big believer in appreciating and soaking up the little things but there’s nothing like a global pandemic and the fog of early parenthood to give you a brutal reminder of just how important the little things can be. The small, joyous moments of the day-to-day are what have got me through the last few years, particularly when spiralling around amongst the darker moments of sleep deprivation, and I have even more of a renewed appreciation for them now that I am no longer woken up every 1-2 hours. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I think we need the routine. ‘A routine baggy enough to live in’ as Matt Haig says, but a routine all the same. I want the lovely surprises that life can throw at you, but I also am enjoying knowing what’s coming next week if I’m honest. I think after the uncertainty of the Covid years and the uncertainty of the trying to conceive-pregnancy-childbirth-newborn years, I was craving a bit of predictability. I’m also finding that leaning into all the aspects of our current phase of life, make everything so much easier. Accepting that life with a toddler often is repetitive and slow with sudden bursts of utter chaos, and just going with it. Savouring the fleeting moments where he does something totally new like it’s no big deal. Seizing the brief moments where I can squeeze in couple time, exercise, reading, baking, writing; the things that fill my cup. None of it is big or exciting but I’m pretty convinced that if you’re happy with the small stuff, with the day-to-day, then the big and exciting stuff is just a lovely bonus. </p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-4089464464917633062023-08-28T21:25:00.002+01:002023-08-29T17:32:50.588+01:00How To Spend A Gentle Week In & Around Frome, Somerset <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7P6nkCxDZhaOXvjDnBSloPNUuJujf_OXoPOtB5W9djPSKq6mrcCn0_92VSpBjXhMn1VC2alh4P1rI4VhDEehNa82c4Ydeek_Zmwo1o3Cy9LbYljcoviD9KEsW36PTP4dgSx5ow5NbhkmwSrqLqJpZHlo3mn6VDEF6SSVvac-llkojQHkrIMGERHznho/s4032/IMG_9476.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX7P6nkCxDZhaOXvjDnBSloPNUuJujf_OXoPOtB5W9djPSKq6mrcCn0_92VSpBjXhMn1VC2alh4P1rI4VhDEehNa82c4Ydeek_Zmwo1o3Cy9LbYljcoviD9KEsW36PTP4dgSx5ow5NbhkmwSrqLqJpZHlo3mn6VDEF6SSVvac-llkojQHkrIMGERHznho/s16000/IMG_9476.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">At the beginning of June, we went on our first proper holiday as a family of three, and it was a lovely one. Of course, absolutely nothing is perfect when holidaying with a toddler; there is no way you’re going to get through an entire week without feeling the effects of being wildly out of any kind of routine. If I’m honest, we’re not even sure what holidays look like these days because ours used to consist of either walking 30,000 steps a day and fitting in every experience we possibly could or lying in a heap and doing very little, and neither of those things really work with a toddler in tow. Mind you, I wouldn’t put it past him to walk 30, 000 steps a day. Kid <i>never stops moving</i>. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">But this felt like a good start to figuring out what holidays might look like now. There was something for the toddler: a big garden complete with sticks and something for the adults: brunch, bakeries and a general slowed-down vibe. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We stayed in the nicest little converted barn-cottage, complete with a brass bath and gorgeous views across the west country countryside. We were on the very edge of the town Frome in Somerset which was a very cute place to while away a week, particularly when the weather was sunny the whole time. Here’s a little diary of our favourite bits: <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Saturday </b>– starting the holiday as we meant to go on with a visit to <a href="https://www.rye-bakery.com/" target="_blank"><b>Rye Bakery</b></a>, set in a stunning converted church. Should you find yourself there, you <i>have</i> to try their cinnamon buns; they are not to be missed. I got a little addicted and found myself wandering back almost daily to get my fix.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Sunday<i> </i></b>– it was only after we’d booked our trip that I noticed <b>‘visit the independent market’</b> cropped up on pretty much every ‘what to do in Frome’ list. We were in luck though, our holiday happened to coincide with the first Sunday of the month which is when the market takes place. And I can see why it gets a lot of hype. It was huge for starters; the entire town is taken over with stalls of every kind. There’s live music, a lot of excellent food and a buzzy atmosphere. We spent a couple of hours soaking it all in (and stopping by the Rye Bakery stall for a cinnamon bun) before hopping on the forty-minute train to <b>Bath </b>to meet up with friends who live nearby. As it’s my old stomping ground, we didn’t feel the need to play tourist but, once we’d had pizza in the park, we had to do a fair bit of wandering to get Alfie to go to sleep. Bath is so gorgeous in the sunshine, and I don’t think I will ever get over the novelty of seeing <b>Pulteney Weir</b>. Plus, we had to stop into <b>Topping’s bookshop</b> which is sensational (although I am still ultimately loyal to my local Ely version). </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMFQBivijoxfc8V0pFhLxU8JHFrFqHCbOFpMcbiQuwJnwbp5bGWxttXjOX0Vz8qc5zOioDy8ArVqn6ay69bjQkAHLrKFxV9wXdAN6yi9RG9zbMrfXpDRFDChExk0WXgQE2PAtDa92ijT0vMiIQ6pWxuDJR7sP8uOqvp7FUH79qIPlFz9v-RhNReoi_ys/s4032/IMG_9541.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMFQBivijoxfc8V0pFhLxU8JHFrFqHCbOFpMcbiQuwJnwbp5bGWxttXjOX0Vz8qc5zOioDy8ArVqn6ay69bjQkAHLrKFxV9wXdAN6yi9RG9zbMrfXpDRFDChExk0WXgQE2PAtDa92ijT0vMiIQ6pWxuDJR7sP8uOqvp7FUH79qIPlFz9v-RhNReoi_ys/s16000/IMG_9541.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOmr-rkdTUU-f-QgcI92rcIQ_higPQ-3XJmwte00GQnu-8zW2L3MM3_GMDb8UsL0vOm-PRvTcN1Nf1OaWCnyD69JR5Olrqugq_1gy6pG-M7reyspnxfCl93sSTuxVl_XiruTAns3A9l217YmuhGgyLgaN_aHtkWFXwRnOysAAjIpHpNyMoKHdT97kw_c/s4032/IMG_9536.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOmr-rkdTUU-f-QgcI92rcIQ_higPQ-3XJmwte00GQnu-8zW2L3MM3_GMDb8UsL0vOm-PRvTcN1Nf1OaWCnyD69JR5Olrqugq_1gy6pG-M7reyspnxfCl93sSTuxVl_XiruTAns3A9l217YmuhGgyLgaN_aHtkWFXwRnOysAAjIpHpNyMoKHdT97kw_c/s16000/IMG_9536.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrh2njz3BhgcDhlfYXENGe2bsop4w4fIc8WItrPXYscEw4z8DJVLfhY2wXy7xFVD4-awWA4UiJOV5gk8Hs78AK4MO6Efj_sejVlbJ92MWbKO4biNE6x7Q77ucuPbRx5UErc9y1HQL-RPPAYE5fd1d63-d4jjHFVb36YYU1aUFele6aIEugssv4vNiURI/s4032/IMG_9409.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrh2njz3BhgcDhlfYXENGe2bsop4w4fIc8WItrPXYscEw4z8DJVLfhY2wXy7xFVD4-awWA4UiJOV5gk8Hs78AK4MO6Efj_sejVlbJ92MWbKO4biNE6x7Q77ucuPbRx5UErc9y1HQL-RPPAYE5fd1d63-d4jjHFVb36YYU1aUFele6aIEugssv4vNiURI/s16000/IMG_9409.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBpH_jDM6S78X9VpDT3EzijFbeaWyK2kNxdo8d6EZpyYD_C9zAvCwSpL_iyLC-1KhyRMEH-qB2-E_34S2Fa82jES-bnDtdPsupABD-qOsAsXDhHx83UP0Saqy4riz8I7AjcpU0txXdmznHYFUgE4VZwcN2jOKO168mXczwtgb7q5WEntx18o0s23sFrk/s4032/IMG_9419.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnBpH_jDM6S78X9VpDT3EzijFbeaWyK2kNxdo8d6EZpyYD_C9zAvCwSpL_iyLC-1KhyRMEH-qB2-E_34S2Fa82jES-bnDtdPsupABD-qOsAsXDhHx83UP0Saqy4riz8I7AjcpU0txXdmznHYFUgE4VZwcN2jOKO168mXczwtgb7q5WEntx18o0s23sFrk/s16000/IMG_9419.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_jmcPJ4ApY_nqCZY6_JyCgQN_DK_j543dmo6lMuHQQjB2dQlK-ctukuqEA7wfJRl4sOSHTGQn-F_iZ2xcvD3c4AkYgzg158qpM-WOkyv-LhbQX8HFJbDXKzahwIE9tJZCBJGaf_-HlBMJ3ujXhzx3GkUcs6CM3ydT7JzYmrcgK3bic35pv0CC6AlpJI/s4032/IMG_9421.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl_jmcPJ4ApY_nqCZY6_JyCgQN_DK_j543dmo6lMuHQQjB2dQlK-ctukuqEA7wfJRl4sOSHTGQn-F_iZ2xcvD3c4AkYgzg158qpM-WOkyv-LhbQX8HFJbDXKzahwIE9tJZCBJGaf_-HlBMJ3ujXhzx3GkUcs6CM3ydT7JzYmrcgK3bic35pv0CC6AlpJI/s16000/IMG_9421.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLXOwqQdkz4aK6IY0kNLfW1zRZfaVJePyW8sOaf0a3MLUqZUVTadOJ3E7D7S5_xNCyz1AOEbgY4wdWr4EZLh7zggTiuBXEwQRR14jLJQGDocAkLErDzsxRSNnCKoIm2wH-oAuO8uL3TAlcabyDcs8xX95t5Y-EmTVTbvgfjsNgp9FhZgBe4Ggy1kF5SM/s4032/IMG_9436.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLXOwqQdkz4aK6IY0kNLfW1zRZfaVJePyW8sOaf0a3MLUqZUVTadOJ3E7D7S5_xNCyz1AOEbgY4wdWr4EZLh7zggTiuBXEwQRR14jLJQGDocAkLErDzsxRSNnCKoIm2wH-oAuO8uL3TAlcabyDcs8xX95t5Y-EmTVTbvgfjsNgp9FhZgBe4Ggy1kF5SM/s16000/IMG_9436.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Monday</b> – brunch at <a href="https://www.riverhousefrome.co.uk/" target="_blank"><b>The River House</b></a>, a gorgeous little spot. I cannot emphasise how good the ‘Hash Gordon’ was – Cajun spiced hashbrowns, garlic yoghurt, chorizo, romesco & fried eggs *chef’s kiss*. We were treated to a two-hour nap from Alfie in the afternoon which meant we could sit in the sunshine and read our books with a G&T, before firing up the BBQ. What a treat.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Tuesday</b> – a trip to <b>Stonehenge</b>! I <i>think</i> I went as a child, but my memories are very vague, and I wanted a closer look (as opposed to seeing it from the road) as an adult. Heads up if you’re National Trust members – you can get free entry despite the fact it is English Heritage. A very interesting way to spend the morning. A cynic might tell you it’s just a collection of rocks in the middle of a field, but I think there’s something kind of otherworldly about Stonehenge. The sheer amount of time it has stood there is mind-blowing. <br /><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIffe9uJ5sujTngKcO9cfGMpgTa8vjTiP2sTNaE0rwFMPVctdg88XJHkefVtT3mq7e3oqkOj71TkCkFyrlYCesnPQjmW_gdbJZkPjx3EzohglOmRF7q4NV_gDJ5zMRbUcYultFqQED6lUtA0D2slKWPhIfB3Gsol0xhwth7d9gmneeiv1kwAf-FlZ4eg/s4032/IMG_9478.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIffe9uJ5sujTngKcO9cfGMpgTa8vjTiP2sTNaE0rwFMPVctdg88XJHkefVtT3mq7e3oqkOj71TkCkFyrlYCesnPQjmW_gdbJZkPjx3EzohglOmRF7q4NV_gDJ5zMRbUcYultFqQED6lUtA0D2slKWPhIfB3Gsol0xhwth7d9gmneeiv1kwAf-FlZ4eg/s16000/IMG_9478.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3a043Y-J5YcyRESaB67gDuKNLvOARoLDW6imaRVmRmKvD2doVtZ6gUcZCGgaQFn4gOC1KMFsGd9a_v3Y1k5t6DWcN3dJBAAj2cWH_SuOGkstJXZo7zth0WBXV7UnTecI-bXguSWZQV328VmX12JvxcEqJN8O3ejRx2iElhQiT_ToW755tE-T3T4Sp128/s4032/IMG_9492.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3a043Y-J5YcyRESaB67gDuKNLvOARoLDW6imaRVmRmKvD2doVtZ6gUcZCGgaQFn4gOC1KMFsGd9a_v3Y1k5t6DWcN3dJBAAj2cWH_SuOGkstJXZo7zth0WBXV7UnTecI-bXguSWZQV328VmX12JvxcEqJN8O3ejRx2iElhQiT_ToW755tE-T3T4Sp128/s16000/IMG_9492.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGDbJ9zRcqT1IkkxF6ClVelrKuZvfD00fPaAs4Z2T05OwOfnCUAZVAqNCAWN85Ebf8QO6vQnJtgigSk_6GrPyffqW89l4yLMMA0DaAJXt2eQNtBF9_RaJRsGQp0094eFMoK-HfQETBexR6BcvRKzHS8h8zbCgT7cCsVAzRf3vb3LdFw6eIaFP3OyMQqo/s4032/IMG_9493.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGDbJ9zRcqT1IkkxF6ClVelrKuZvfD00fPaAs4Z2T05OwOfnCUAZVAqNCAWN85Ebf8QO6vQnJtgigSk_6GrPyffqW89l4yLMMA0DaAJXt2eQNtBF9_RaJRsGQp0094eFMoK-HfQETBexR6BcvRKzHS8h8zbCgT7cCsVAzRf3vb3LdFw6eIaFP3OyMQqo/s16000/IMG_9493.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZc1oM0bbc31fN9vdYSiq_AqArjteRZo_tx1gQKRQ4yr8X013Y3lK62ml2WO476yf3uEQv1Nd1mROlKTyPaU7G4auF0KKnpxAa3zL1AtG-eM7ZTdoL-ZbZibaQUbU05oFomsVisABaLX-Kd56h6_qxZrP57ROdNs4yr7JMeaWTsPWBpoOgcBhVdDcgbg/s4032/IMG_9523.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZc1oM0bbc31fN9vdYSiq_AqArjteRZo_tx1gQKRQ4yr8X013Y3lK62ml2WO476yf3uEQv1Nd1mROlKTyPaU7G4auF0KKnpxAa3zL1AtG-eM7ZTdoL-ZbZibaQUbU05oFomsVisABaLX-Kd56h6_qxZrP57ROdNs4yr7JMeaWTsPWBpoOgcBhVdDcgbg/s16000/IMG_9523.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Wednesday</b> – We drove five minutes down the road to visit the <a href="https://www.thewalledgardenatmells.co.uk/" target="_blank"><b>Walled Garden at Mells </b></a>and what a little gem this place turned out to be. It felt like something out of a fairy tale book. Think <i>The Secret Garden</i> vibes. It’s not immediately obvious, and then you duck through a little door and <i>wow</i>. There’s an outdoor cafe (with a pizza oven), plant nursery and a tranquil, rambling garden to get lost in. It was delightful and I would highly recommend.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Thursday </b>– we ‘accidentally’ fell into The River House for brunch round two before spending the afternoon exploring the wealth of independent shops Frome has to offer. The two streets you must check out are <b>Catherine Hill</b> which is the famous steep cobbled street packed to the brim with independent shops, and <b>Cheap Street</b> which has higgledy-piggledy medieval buildings and – most distinctively – an old leat still running through the middle of it. It is also full of independent shops; I’d particularly recommend the bookshop and chocolate shop. As it was our last night, we also decided to brave an evening meal out with the munchkin. We went to the lovely <a href="https://bistrolottefrome.co.uk/" target="_blank"><b>Bistro Lotte</b></a> which was another little gem. It felt very pleasant to sit there with their front all open to the summer air, and they were very welcoming to Alfie (we also went relatively early and vacated once he started throwing fries around which probably helped). Food was also lovely. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTdPNgWl-JCNJj7il39fnnn844eeQmh0lUHUUOW6ANfdPejQqAROxmK1C51J0U1nnNnDAdi0OutScd_IBywUDiDnFuvDHo6j9vtJALjo6zOFpFJn29Er5_BsKXglPXxs7ILLJEaX3ezDUhkqWYZkjvK9kb0LnZ9IVMyI89ZZXGOquSE91zcjl2qCx3B0/s2100/IMG_9566.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBTdPNgWl-JCNJj7il39fnnn844eeQmh0lUHUUOW6ANfdPejQqAROxmK1C51J0U1nnNnDAdi0OutScd_IBywUDiDnFuvDHo6j9vtJALjo6zOFpFJn29Er5_BsKXglPXxs7ILLJEaX3ezDUhkqWYZkjvK9kb0LnZ9IVMyI89ZZXGOquSE91zcjl2qCx3B0/s16000/IMG_9566.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifm6a1HLPMXJ_wn2Jc5l9FrjRHd4kltrkrPeZsxT9pQREcJ9d0x0inGzYd-ZociiQOe7Py3hSV0YJnJYQwVEExZwFKPfQ-BwBl3mqeMRgcWsDLlG4cbOaXbtTWGSGgD47bUq6I8ZSPdelzXjejd5IRVnKSY9fBS0s273iVGKpChwBPdi475L1zcFTMtUA/s4032/IMG_9564.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifm6a1HLPMXJ_wn2Jc5l9FrjRHd4kltrkrPeZsxT9pQREcJ9d0x0inGzYd-ZociiQOe7Py3hSV0YJnJYQwVEExZwFKPfQ-BwBl3mqeMRgcWsDLlG4cbOaXbtTWGSGgD47bUq6I8ZSPdelzXjejd5IRVnKSY9fBS0s273iVGKpChwBPdi475L1zcFTMtUA/s16000/IMG_9564.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8XKFFMs_TtNN5X782OVdVGDp86lwanLTj5_SqdKqo4GKvuqlN7fk-i_7CoVgTaQu5hSI6FHSL_ojQREKJZtYEJRZiECRY5P-ClHt6X8igGVprWWoVMMeshjGWlH-PV1Dds96QiKyOJMSg39AO-QwA_E_2Xfp_DE1qfsA1cWBWhihfZEoVI2DW8JZjm4/s4032/IMG_9591.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8XKFFMs_TtNN5X782OVdVGDp86lwanLTj5_SqdKqo4GKvuqlN7fk-i_7CoVgTaQu5hSI6FHSL_ojQREKJZtYEJRZiECRY5P-ClHt6X8igGVprWWoVMMeshjGWlH-PV1Dds96QiKyOJMSg39AO-QwA_E_2Xfp_DE1qfsA1cWBWhihfZEoVI2DW8JZjm4/s16000/IMG_9591.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2ckw3bsppRw6HoPGTQh3RzMZPVX1dAazUIurY0gBcTw6_PjDGjUo-mmvF7g4qYKM8oTXFqqzWhXYVOJHc6jqvqSYI-AQxTUkdOYkSG11Ik8UK6MPs3SnDi4hiEOJHXel8HZ1FQf4SrCnOXNkT13USN5yyMVdnVOGSrHSnenQeqRF18IocrL5PHwQKBQ/s4032/IMG_9577.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2ckw3bsppRw6HoPGTQh3RzMZPVX1dAazUIurY0gBcTw6_PjDGjUo-mmvF7g4qYKM8oTXFqqzWhXYVOJHc6jqvqSYI-AQxTUkdOYkSG11Ik8UK6MPs3SnDi4hiEOJHXel8HZ1FQf4SrCnOXNkT13USN5yyMVdnVOGSrHSnenQeqRF18IocrL5PHwQKBQ/s16000/IMG_9577.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhorbRJ5CvFn2yrMeSqpspKjxr3A8gDuyI2S1QiEWaXCOdN6171umdY4whuBn_bQRC4HDvOzcZeT7tM9904vV3K7EAYA_qmCeD6UrogiwlImny_OADO7Id8k9Kp3FQzYa3RQKgkv_R1SOBtrW8iE0DZF_GxXfosgDIRVx5IXqDRDSbZ1vLdTO41kKm2280/s4032/IMG_9472.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhorbRJ5CvFn2yrMeSqpspKjxr3A8gDuyI2S1QiEWaXCOdN6171umdY4whuBn_bQRC4HDvOzcZeT7tM9904vV3K7EAYA_qmCeD6UrogiwlImny_OADO7Id8k9Kp3FQzYa3RQKgkv_R1SOBtrW8iE0DZF_GxXfosgDIRVx5IXqDRDSbZ1vLdTO41kKm2280/s16000/IMG_9472.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Friday</b> – On our final morning, we were back in The Rye Bakery to check out their brunch which I’d had my eye on all week. I am pleased to confirm that the cinnamon bun French toast was just as good as it sounds. <i>Those cinnamon buns.</i> Genuine regret that I don’t live closer and they can’t be a regular part of my life. <br /><br /> </p><p style="text-align: center;">And then we were leaving the cobbled streets of Frome behind. Such a lovely week. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">As a side note – if you happen to be in the area and in need of reading material, I read <i>The Vintage Shop of Second Chances </i>by Libby Page whilst we were there, and the novel is set in Frome. I really enjoyed reading about a lot of the places we were also visiting! </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz71EzPYlqM05tdHgv49ixwPJAeerbrj5gGJuuEJiAiT_q6QUy_V4_GKoc_pS0nPuTXPT9ww1oZA9Q-m6ziSwXZusRcc-MxKE1houXhrQn9vdGPzclQhOb0wDIjvPdA-Wd77j9zcWU44a40sNhOlnEUqxtB0ahRyE8KeBQfvX0y6t2DIXz0f_TNDCdSDQ/s4032/IMG_9579_jpg.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz71EzPYlqM05tdHgv49ixwPJAeerbrj5gGJuuEJiAiT_q6QUy_V4_GKoc_pS0nPuTXPT9ww1oZA9Q-m6ziSwXZusRcc-MxKE1houXhrQn9vdGPzclQhOb0wDIjvPdA-Wd77j9zcWU44a40sNhOlnEUqxtB0ahRyE8KeBQfvX0y6t2DIXz0f_TNDCdSDQ/s16000/IMG_9579_jpg.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5MxDNZxUuIakt89QTbm4Vt2E5s7hiOz5jThk9id2EQom9HoE7rqYUF04l7qJ8ePaajrWQYxjgkasGqooO27wRPUBLJAmRQhxT3cNfRBEC921ANBDtImHHTHoGxbL-K9G9tUZuaee-ga7dQCW7wqe24UNKD3E4XL0Ukk9rnFMMskuURtBzkkim1LydtU/s4032/IMG_9381.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Frome, Somerset" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG5MxDNZxUuIakt89QTbm4Vt2E5s7hiOz5jThk9id2EQom9HoE7rqYUF04l7qJ8ePaajrWQYxjgkasGqooO27wRPUBLJAmRQhxT3cNfRBEC921ANBDtImHHTHoGxbL-K9G9tUZuaee-ga7dQCW7wqe24UNKD3E4XL0Ukk9rnFMMskuURtBzkkim1LydtU/s16000/IMG_9381.jpeg" title="Frome, Somerset" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-26977810526166025152023-07-27T20:59:00.001+01:002023-07-27T20:59:36.862+01:00If We Were Having A Coffee, I Would Tell You... #4<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6g7jtDFL6uiCCjeCMuxm0KnWV-iJlskuF2QLTPrtwfKXj15qEgGaXJW5ZOHrNJZbx6y_xSWBX3r_CZT7WrRQbo_D11OlZPNIUshI-KwfkuNSEBE6pwKncgrqCtEe-lf6EF-6QU2jCO6De2wIlGds4gGJq0PrUk7DaZINlWD6QTA3Rg0fTOeOzByXdHo/s4032/IMG_9269.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Coffee catch up" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-6g7jtDFL6uiCCjeCMuxm0KnWV-iJlskuF2QLTPrtwfKXj15qEgGaXJW5ZOHrNJZbx6y_xSWBX3r_CZT7WrRQbo_D11OlZPNIUshI-KwfkuNSEBE6pwKncgrqCtEe-lf6EF-6QU2jCO6De2wIlGds4gGJq0PrUk7DaZINlWD6QTA3Rg0fTOeOzByXdHo/s16000/IMG_9269.jpeg" title="Coffee catch up" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Hi, hi. It’s been a while since we sat down and had a catch-up. Grab yourself a drink and baked good (non-negotiable, but I’m willing to share because cost of living and all that), and let’s have a natter. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>What’s new… </b>You know when people ask you what’s new, and you feel like you don’t actually have that much to report? I’m kinda taking that as a good thing. I don’t have any <i>major</i> life updates. 2023 is proving itself to be a nice, gentle year on the whole. Our weekly routine is pretty set and whilst I doubt it looks particularly exciting from the outside, I have a general feeling of contentment. Nothing is perfect, there have been plenty of challenges, but I also feel like leaning into this phase of life is the way to go at the moment. We’re pottering a long, spending a lot of time in the playground, constantly battling to keep the house a least vaguely tidy (no mean feat when your toddler’s favourite thing is to empty cupboards, pull things off shelves etc – it’s a bit like living with a mini hurricane), trying to maintain hobbies, exercise, sanity amongst the glorious chaos that is parenting. You know, the usual. <br /> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Summer so far…</b> June just felt like a lovely month. We had a lovely, gentle holiday in Somerset, visited Kent to see Gary’s dad and catch up with friends, had some of my girls come stay, had dinner at <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2022/06/an-anniversary-dinner-old-hall-ely.html" target="_blank">The Old Hall</a> (we had a voucher) and crashed my dad & Elizabeth’s holiday for the day which meant sitting in a hot tub on a Thursday afternoon – hard life. Spoiler – Alfie thinks hot tubs are <i>a lot </i>of fun. The weather was just beautiful, and our garden looked glorious in the sunshine which made me happy. July has been a lot quieter and rainier, but we have a busy August ahead and whilst it felt like the sunny weather was very fleeting, I am actually thankful for rain and cool winds because the weather across the rest of Europe right now is, quite frankly, bloody terrifying. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Alfie </b>is now 19 months which is a surreal thing to type. He’s a real joy at this age; we are having hints of toddler tantrums (particularly if you take the remote control off him) but he is mostly smiley and excited by life. His favourite thing to say is still ‘oh dear’ although he does it with an enthusiastic level of enunciation so it’s more like ‘OH DEEEEEEEEEYA’. Sometimes we have ‘oh dear’-offs where we shout it back and forth to see who can do it with the most enthusiasm – he always wins of course. I assume he’ll say something else at some point (we have recently had hints of the word ‘chair’), but if not, he seems to communicate quite effectively with those two words. We finished breastfeeding at exactly 19 months and <i>ooofff</i> what a journey that was. It’s tempting to move on very quickly, but I equally don’t want to diminish it because it wasn’t easy. <i>Nineteen whole months.</i> I get a present right?! I don’t want to jinx it, but his sleep has also started to improve a little recently so we’re tentatively hopeful. I think I’m going to have to write a whole other post on sleep deprivation because I have <i>a lot</i> to say. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Money –</b> I’m not really one to talk about my finances on the internet but equally, I do feel a sense of relief when other people do because it is very easy to scroll through social media and think it’s just you, particularly when you see the influencers constantly trying to persuade you to buy things and a lot of beach snaps. Mortgage rates, rent increases, cost of living…. Not the one is it? We also had the extra double whammy of childcare costs and needing to drop my hours at work post-maternity leave so that was excellent timing on our part. There’s no point to this really, just a little honesty. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>My sister got engaged – </b>on a distinctly average afternoon in March, I received a video call from a pretty garden in Rome and a sudden amount of shrieking ensued. I did already know that a proposal was on the cards, but this didn’t make it any less lovely or exciting. We are now in full-steam planning mode for next year. My sister is an events manager, so this is turning into the most organised wedding in the world and I’m here for it. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Tell me, dear reader, what’s new with you? </p><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-9254321484236023762023-07-16T15:53:00.001+01:002023-07-21T23:09:30.372+01:00A Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler: Lille, France; The Netherlands & Bruges, Belgium <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyxN21DnlqxIq8q1HdcUxc-vbOXIMdSTbx3TXL93vIWs7gUEIgUh0547nJ91kMRWkNs_WeDGfLsrdZfTssTahy7OEB39eUS6gojXgtihy83VsXRLlgMKmymreymDD4KgSmKBPpB3RtLbUzaB6sCukcnixpfVV57IxLvUycnVt1reAr5MksmBnGcO7Zts/s4032/IMG_9009.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyxN21DnlqxIq8q1HdcUxc-vbOXIMdSTbx3TXL93vIWs7gUEIgUh0547nJ91kMRWkNs_WeDGfLsrdZfTssTahy7OEB39eUS6gojXgtihy83VsXRLlgMKmymreymDD4KgSmKBPpB3RtLbUzaB6sCukcnixpfVV57IxLvUycnVt1reAr5MksmBnGcO7Zts/s16000/IMG_9009.jpeg" title="European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><div><div style="text-align: center;">Alright. Raise your hand if you thought doing a road trip with a toddler who hates car journeys was a good idea? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, okay, we live and learn. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This slightly bonkers idea came about because we wanted to go and visit our family in The Netherlands. I refuse to fly such a short distance, the Eurostar prices were <i>obscene</i> and I last approximately three minutes on a ferry before I’m hurling up my lunch over the side. So, we reluctantly accepted that we would have to drive and the only way this seemed bearable was to stop off somewhere along the way because a) sleep deprivation and b) toddler-who-hates-car-journeys-and-likes-to-scream-a-lot. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And then, well, my travel bug raised her little head. Because if we were going to break up a journey <i>through Europe</i>, it would be just plain silly to not make the most of it right?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It’ll be fine</i>, we said. <i>We’ll time each journey with his nap</i>, we said. Reader, we were naïve. Would I do it again? No. Did we have a great time? Yes. (Mostly.) </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><h4 style="text-align: center;">Leg 1: Home > Folkestone, Kent <br /><br /></h4><div>Our first leg was very functional. We surprised Alfie by picking him up from nursery at lunchtime (alright, you can’t really surprise a 16-month-old, but you get my drift) and planned to drive the three-hour journey to Folkestone in Kent all in one go. The nursery had followed our stern instructions not to let him nap with the idea he would fall asleep soon after we set off and wake up with perhaps half an hour to go. Alfie, however, did not get this memo. So naturally we had to pull over twice and the journey took at least an hour longer than intended. We hadn’t left the country yet and we were already having serious reservations, if only for the sheer amount of breadsticks we had already got through. </div><div><br /></div><div>But then we made it to Folkestone, and we could see the sea, and we stopped for coffee in a cute book-lined café and it was actually super lovely us all being cosied up in a Premier Inn hotel room together. We were up bright and early the next morning to squeeze in an underwhelming Premier Inn breakfast and head off to the Eurotunnel down the road. We passed the wait at the tunnel by book shopping (me) and having some milk (Alfie) and then after a bit of a queue which required me to jump into the back seat to placate my inpatient child, we were driving onto the train and on our way to France. </div><div><br /></div><div><h4><div style="text-align: center;">Leg 2: Folkestone > Lille, France </div><br /></h4><div>Our first stop was Lille, Paris’ quieter and more friendly sister. Alfie hadn’t slept the entire way of course but had been in reasonably good spirits until he decided to time the ultimate meltdown (roughly translated as <i>get me out of this freakin’ car seat</i>) just as we were trying to navigate Lille’s one way system and unexpected road works. So that was just marvellous. Anyway, we made it to the hotel only slightly frazzled and grumpy. We were staying at <a href="https://www.hotelarbrevoyageur.com/?gad=1&gclid=Cj0KCQjwqs6lBhCxARIsAG8YcDj5ibdQUtPiELNMevtfN81YfugQXl4RrzjiD5FSJfWSf0-9DSdx0lgaAlkSEALw_wcB" target="_blank">Hotel L’Arbre Voyageur</a> and I would highly recommend. Not only were the prices really reasonable, the staff were friendly and full of decent recommendations for us and our hotel room was upgraded which has never happened to us before. We ended up with a suite and a jacuzzi bath which was hilarious to bathe a toddler in. Also, large fifth-floor hotel windows + nearby roadworks make for great toddler entertainment. I’m pretty sure he would quite happily have spent hours watching the diggers going back and forth. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lille was a lovely city to potter about in for 24 hours. There’s not masses to do so I personally felt like 24 hours was enough although, equally, I’m sure I could have easily passed another day mooching between coffee shops and bakeries. It was very pretty, full of v expensive boutique shops which I wished I could afford to shop in and just had this really nice, relaxed atmosphere. We spent our time wandering between the main sights and stopping off at whatever bakery or eatery that took our fancy. We enjoyed a wholesome diet of croissants, frites and crepes and even braved a meal out in the evening where the locals laughed at us because we sat outside in April like classic Brits abroad (although I would like to add that sitting outside makes a meal out with a toddler who likes to throw food on the floor feel so much more manageable). </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKwfq25YJZ1DL9qFUGvUNCF9h7ST8x6oKXn46KAQqdgbXMxgUIxWhwP1w4SNjI-ri-I8jz4bdeef5QIGSuShG171ChZvMxG5H3k0tVmYbnjzl7WbFrlp2tSPr0-hS8t1Xjx9l5L1n_MMVCo8Mc4h6FHbXdqEptWzX1mA-b6KXYSJH7VZyXqAnGgE0Mes/s4032/IMG_8396.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKwfq25YJZ1DL9qFUGvUNCF9h7ST8x6oKXn46KAQqdgbXMxgUIxWhwP1w4SNjI-ri-I8jz4bdeef5QIGSuShG171ChZvMxG5H3k0tVmYbnjzl7WbFrlp2tSPr0-hS8t1Xjx9l5L1n_MMVCo8Mc4h6FHbXdqEptWzX1mA-b6KXYSJH7VZyXqAnGgE0Mes/s16000/IMG_8396.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPtorMIQLtAM_N6vDmq4OMK6d-ijTl-PV3HsE9fjJ7TLzRDW7IFjXzOGI4CwNIJs2co7-mE8iNc2-rzBR9PtDIp-wYIlEXUh4jb8PuXD0ZUbP7QBMckHi7OAbHqUx_IqeDrm7WmTkZYtYhqKk2neTWyLXbaXUhTFINaiXJX-VNWsMGUa4cs1sCB1rTsI/s4032/IMG_8404.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPtorMIQLtAM_N6vDmq4OMK6d-ijTl-PV3HsE9fjJ7TLzRDW7IFjXzOGI4CwNIJs2co7-mE8iNc2-rzBR9PtDIp-wYIlEXUh4jb8PuXD0ZUbP7QBMckHi7OAbHqUx_IqeDrm7WmTkZYtYhqKk2neTWyLXbaXUhTFINaiXJX-VNWsMGUa4cs1sCB1rTsI/s16000/IMG_8404.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSoddAsYMUZtjI1tOGDgHCNjh2jf6r2RQGeWYQFC_iUZPxwqAKQIQwNUg0ZIkXlAvzwMRiCWuWjJHD26mATPTVXE8hcPbPF-Bh9M-ECUHJTOJMmJOs9UN1Uu1tdMUwLUfyABl3r05_cTf5gK3eAxOIJB5J4aqoxHCJwmm30j20Kvy6JxCGllNUvSsfdM/s4032/IMG_8419.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVSoddAsYMUZtjI1tOGDgHCNjh2jf6r2RQGeWYQFC_iUZPxwqAKQIQwNUg0ZIkXlAvzwMRiCWuWjJHD26mATPTVXE8hcPbPF-Bh9M-ECUHJTOJMmJOs9UN1Uu1tdMUwLUfyABl3r05_cTf5gK3eAxOIJB5J4aqoxHCJwmm30j20Kvy6JxCGllNUvSsfdM/s16000/IMG_8419.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nIwAN-90P05W8ZKxWX5h7-mAvFq_yY_Abl1nErPURKZj1erT7Sj3OO32oKxh0-x_LTxHPRiKzpzfb59t12ZW1YPuZwXaJdMDnP4JmUNXTa3agOrAdre4AZ31OTxjYUL-crYA9KrBmBb7Wl00N1-hY9LnTNx0rAkkBtuWqoWOPsKZIggBKKHcnu4ItTg/s2100/IMG_8490.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="2100" data-original-width="1575" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nIwAN-90P05W8ZKxWX5h7-mAvFq_yY_Abl1nErPURKZj1erT7Sj3OO32oKxh0-x_LTxHPRiKzpzfb59t12ZW1YPuZwXaJdMDnP4JmUNXTa3agOrAdre4AZ31OTxjYUL-crYA9KrBmBb7Wl00N1-hY9LnTNx0rAkkBtuWqoWOPsKZIggBKKHcnu4ItTg/s16000/IMG_8490.jpeg" title="European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><h4 style="text-align: center;">Leg 3: Lille > The Netherlands <br /><br /></h4><div>By far the best journey and, quite frankly, the only journey that went to plan; Alfie fell asleep ten minutes after leaving Lille and slept all the way to The Netherlands. So that was bloody dreamy. Whilst we were in The Netherlands, we had to do four car journeys and had a 50/50 hit rate. Two were awful, two were fine. And I guess we were learning that even the awful ones, you come out the other side (although not with much desire to repeat I will admit). We spent four nights staying with family which included lots of lovely family time and Alfie basically getting his two older cousins wrapped around his little finger, but there are a couple of more touristy highlights I’ll tell you about. The first is a major food highlight which, as you know, is my favourite kind of travel highlight. We had the most gorgeous meal at <a href="https://cafeclementine.nl/" target="_blank">Café Clementine</a>, a semi-permanent ‘pop-up’ restaurant on the outskirts of Barendrecht. Essentially set within a giant greenhouse filled with greenery and serving delicious small plates, this place is special. We managed to time our visit with a beautiful golden hour which meant we could a) enjoy a drink outside in the sunshine before eating and b) experience the joy of eating in an all-glass building with the sunshine streaming through. Oh, and there was a lovely outside space that Alfie could charge about in under the keen eye of his cousins, so we essentially got to enjoy the benefits of an all-adult meal with only the occasional little-person interruption. </div><div><br /></div><div>And the second was ticking off a big bucket-list item – going to see the tulips at Keukenhof. Let me tell you, Keukenhof is absolutely worth the hype. It exceeded my expectations. The sheer amount and range of tulips spread out as far as the eye could see was breathtaking. Yes, I did come away with 200+ photos of tulips on my phone which <i>might</i> be considered excessive, but I have a compulsion to take a photo of beautiful things and those flowers were stunning. The size of the park surprised me the most; you really can spend a whole day there. Plus, the patchwork fields of tulips surrounding the park (which you see as you drive in as well as from high viewing points in the park) were also quite the sight. I loved watching Alfie absorb all the colours and smells and my favourite moment was watching him run up and down between the flower beds, stopping to gently touch the tulips. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAWFZHL2itjysD2VSfA6VYyfKb_tLRXjVo1ZSz6ax4mJBDVEtx2MvQxfoz33jS_EzxQG4kPmPkdhNxczrLXocTm1aBSWm76UgZP3tXfFhmJkkfgHk37htGomlps4uIutUrYiRPL9_ownALnC78UwOmWQ0eWrLRzNCXpJQO_-ubxIu5YuZGj43Nt912lg/s4032/IMG_8528.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAWFZHL2itjysD2VSfA6VYyfKb_tLRXjVo1ZSz6ax4mJBDVEtx2MvQxfoz33jS_EzxQG4kPmPkdhNxczrLXocTm1aBSWm76UgZP3tXfFhmJkkfgHk37htGomlps4uIutUrYiRPL9_ownALnC78UwOmWQ0eWrLRzNCXpJQO_-ubxIu5YuZGj43Nt912lg/s16000/IMG_8528.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3F_68-6wlRLmpWp3m_FvRhLucs3ZeHET_ve2o91YqPfw5BLp5LyAMbB7TQPs7hmz8Pglu5D8Ro5496HKm1VykDDfa8YeG-O09iyygklFiGpSfO_pzcpsx2d_poGubogqJpEsktbjPKC6sGmCx8DZ_u7csJ_Xd7511PBnX_P8W73-JfzXY60ffcAbXhE8/s4032/IMG_8559.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3F_68-6wlRLmpWp3m_FvRhLucs3ZeHET_ve2o91YqPfw5BLp5LyAMbB7TQPs7hmz8Pglu5D8Ro5496HKm1VykDDfa8YeG-O09iyygklFiGpSfO_pzcpsx2d_poGubogqJpEsktbjPKC6sGmCx8DZ_u7csJ_Xd7511PBnX_P8W73-JfzXY60ffcAbXhE8/s16000/IMG_8559.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnSnrfprXKAVeSYy6dcXnJ0T2CkH3awbUMv1ouwc9X8c5y4ZsjaAY8E_Oj2-4mmz6DJKZv-fh9JJl39yUfwfnZWFtJyQnuj6X6YfGUeHNgaDXJJR3khM-H9D3Y0XpJakR8-Kzdw3IcLkT86hAEW_xP8WBfKMtTz4b_Lo8qKZ66vJqFKkgtgYC-ZmsRwQ/s3756/IMG_8651.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3756" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnSnrfprXKAVeSYy6dcXnJ0T2CkH3awbUMv1ouwc9X8c5y4ZsjaAY8E_Oj2-4mmz6DJKZv-fh9JJl39yUfwfnZWFtJyQnuj6X6YfGUeHNgaDXJJR3khM-H9D3Y0XpJakR8-Kzdw3IcLkT86hAEW_xP8WBfKMtTz4b_Lo8qKZ66vJqFKkgtgYC-ZmsRwQ/s16000/IMG_8651.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefqcOwsGwlkyVYdO2xylgt_Q6Oho4gtTZ2ZFAXLjNp1WoSlc2Jqf5pUMJH57ML1-Ea--BPouR5GyPCueXAvOznzopFScgce5yWhF7BW1a4KBNOEZnliNArIjTuqaz8L66_pOEYQagqFMk12h_LUiJ-SwnAnnFRUFDjUTXLKM67L5zmlH0Obm5Hhx-o2w/s4032/IMG_8683.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgefqcOwsGwlkyVYdO2xylgt_Q6Oho4gtTZ2ZFAXLjNp1WoSlc2Jqf5pUMJH57ML1-Ea--BPouR5GyPCueXAvOznzopFScgce5yWhF7BW1a4KBNOEZnliNArIjTuqaz8L66_pOEYQagqFMk12h_LUiJ-SwnAnnFRUFDjUTXLKM67L5zmlH0Obm5Hhx-o2w/s16000/IMG_8683.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgik871xO1msWEqwFY8RJi4kZd7Q_rdaJYZkDwnetT02kAf0tWMXyNVpiUmMC4VIn34f9GUf4Rut-KUUH_M_eP5-4iMEnn8aAH9in2u0VjsjGMhmhHHUtwL8lXIbsn8tZzchl9vSsUnCi9q9kpUA2dzedXGaelkO_g-wQnjgyFlZ4fWL7hnF5f2M7J84P8/s4032/IMG_8746.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgik871xO1msWEqwFY8RJi4kZd7Q_rdaJYZkDwnetT02kAf0tWMXyNVpiUmMC4VIn34f9GUf4Rut-KUUH_M_eP5-4iMEnn8aAH9in2u0VjsjGMhmhHHUtwL8lXIbsn8tZzchl9vSsUnCi9q9kpUA2dzedXGaelkO_g-wQnjgyFlZ4fWL7hnF5f2M7J84P8/s16000/IMG_8746.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_qld9KS3J1Rk4lCxjZmCBxhV4gEMk1zN_sE9AH0WFNcN9nRwadZedvyeCDMZ11FkRDg_GU1xUvMdOy2QvN7yEhNy1oAPwXexuNE_hNq8Tr_ovnt6l0I_b642rZgj4MwT0NH8ocXpKvEDrqTlldx6EtAsRQBK90JIoEN8cJ9xv_iUWvNuvoiriwkDSoM/s4032/IMG_8788.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD_qld9KS3J1Rk4lCxjZmCBxhV4gEMk1zN_sE9AH0WFNcN9nRwadZedvyeCDMZ11FkRDg_GU1xUvMdOy2QvN7yEhNy1oAPwXexuNE_hNq8Tr_ovnt6l0I_b642rZgj4MwT0NH8ocXpKvEDrqTlldx6EtAsRQBK90JIoEN8cJ9xv_iUWvNuvoiriwkDSoM/s16000/IMG_8788.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><h4><div style="text-align: center;">Leg 4: The Netherlands > Bruges, Belgium </div><br /></h4><div>Hard to know if the pièce de résistance of the journeys was this one or our final one (see below) – Alfie fell asleep ten minutes into the journey, woke up ten minutes later and was absolutely <i>furious</i>. Which is how we found ourselves parked up in some random Belgian industrial estate alongside a couple of lorries and several cranes, trying to placate our extremely pissed-off child. How did I bribe him back into his car seat? I gave him a bag of cheesy puffs bigger than him. I will not win any parenting awards but, quite frankly, I do not care because the sight of my toddler independently eating cheesy puffs from a bag bigger than his entire body with the enthusiasm and chilled-out vibes of a stoner post-spliff was probably one of the funniest moments of parenting to date. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, we made it to Bruges. Google maps took is into the city via the country roads and it was a gorgeous way to arrive. The city seemed to gently reveal itself to us as we rolled through sunlit, tree-lined roads and I knew immediately that I was going to love Bruges. What a beautiful little city. We loved the cobbled streets, the waterways, the gorgeous buildings, the horses clip-clopping around, the constant smell of cocoa wafting out from the chocolate shops on every corner. We stayed in a stunning apartment for two nights; a converted loft with high ceilings and tonnes of natural light, light woods and a standalone bath (which, of course, I made full use of). It was sunny the whole time we were there and the first thing we did after arriving was find ourselves a little cobbled square and order Belgian beer (plus wine for me). It was glorious. This trip was our first abroad since 2019 and I realised how much I had missed the privilege of sitting in the heart of a European city. After drinks and sharing pizza and fries between the three of us, we went in search of Belgian waffles because <i>of course</i>. We ate them sat in the Markt as the sun set and Alfie toddled about having a great time, although he refused to try the waffles which was a catastrophic error on his part in my opinion. We spent our full day building up a hefty step-count exploring the main bulk of Bruges’ nooks and crannies, stopping for lunch at <a href="https://republiekbrugge.be/" target="_blank">De Republiek</a> and chocolate shopping at <a href="https://www.olivierschocolate.be/" target="_blank">Olivier’s</a>. I’d recommend both. The goat’s cheese and beetroot on sourdough toast at De Republiek was delicious. It’s easy to romanticise, so obviously the day also involved trying to juggle Alfie’s nap and his desire to wander into the road and his time-limited patience in cafes. And we also had to go back to the apartment to collapse for a bit because toddlers are tiring and ours does not sleep. But I guess that’s travelling with kids? There are plenty of stressful moments (sometimes really stressful) but there are also moments of magic that you wouldn’t change for a second. Speaking of which: for ease, we had dinner out in one of the restaurants in the Markt which once upon a time, we would have avoided because it’s touristy and yes, whilst the food was kinda average, the location was just brilliant. I mean, what a view. And Alfie was as good as gold, happily sitting in his high-chair, people watching for the majority of the meal. Afterwards, we headed back to the same place for waffles and recreated the previous golden-hour evening. <br /><br /></div><div>We were out early on our final morning for breakfast at <a href="https://www.thatstoast.com/" target="_blank">That’s Toast </a>and I really would recommend this place. If the weather is nice, definitely sit in the little courtyard garden and I personal would recommend the The Classic: avocado salsa, poached egg, green asparagus, Grana paddno & mint on toast (seems to be a lot of toast recommendations coming out of Bruges which I wasn’t expecting). As I’m not a morning person, I’m very rarely out when a city is just waking up and yet, whenever I do it, I immediately wish I do it more because there’s something really special about the light and the quiet. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEHJEqcUvDD7mUe4nNdyQB-H1Pspqe9O0X_tIYUXcfujEq1gnx7LguXZGYQAc5ju586SoZDHPRHdmrQtFTLYoKKh2ve7eHMvt5ApL2BXSk9riIK-WBaSTL4SDsyAlppf2so7onaREFCnzfEX9LDfS-uPCj7D-B8xr-Q0xWMaZH1D9K8NlF_aMzY6xSlw/s4032/IMG_8895.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaEHJEqcUvDD7mUe4nNdyQB-H1Pspqe9O0X_tIYUXcfujEq1gnx7LguXZGYQAc5ju586SoZDHPRHdmrQtFTLYoKKh2ve7eHMvt5ApL2BXSk9riIK-WBaSTL4SDsyAlppf2so7onaREFCnzfEX9LDfS-uPCj7D-B8xr-Q0xWMaZH1D9K8NlF_aMzY6xSlw/s16000/IMG_8895.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAOTZP39pxyg3vvKMnH264kFghs-yGoFIWjIg99Gi32UxoeXffkQ-dH_-BLFNeXm-ii6Zgh-5D2iUvTWnxRZ75gbOuAaWw08sz4whpEyTf29JpRfnIQmEhDBN9TouZEfjZ2339Zla-DZzsxkvimOsyGq2DYWBmofZToEY9x2HxFKRbOsuep2K6aXQjW8/s4032/IMG_8911.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAAOTZP39pxyg3vvKMnH264kFghs-yGoFIWjIg99Gi32UxoeXffkQ-dH_-BLFNeXm-ii6Zgh-5D2iUvTWnxRZ75gbOuAaWw08sz4whpEyTf29JpRfnIQmEhDBN9TouZEfjZ2339Zla-DZzsxkvimOsyGq2DYWBmofZToEY9x2HxFKRbOsuep2K6aXQjW8/s16000/IMG_8911.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2mhxVMmF8pIal1LOrGG1n7NarXDCVlQLwMEyOaZ0qpZV7f79mP8WrLi7bTGRgTJdNFXjP9nwSE83WfTQXnT70XRtM4PBzPxc8XokmIaRSoGlCA-E3xiPyBIMGn3g-4zxwGMHWL8YR2bWabOvtJg9p3OxBhYCVWE9l76YwqIzUe4VGYzzr--ixWiw6EI/s4032/IMG_8961_jpg.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj2mhxVMmF8pIal1LOrGG1n7NarXDCVlQLwMEyOaZ0qpZV7f79mP8WrLi7bTGRgTJdNFXjP9nwSE83WfTQXnT70XRtM4PBzPxc8XokmIaRSoGlCA-E3xiPyBIMGn3g-4zxwGMHWL8YR2bWabOvtJg9p3OxBhYCVWE9l76YwqIzUe4VGYzzr--ixWiw6EI/s16000/IMG_8961_jpg.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgautxwDAgS6EreY-yPlCiHu40VNdwDkw0b878Uw_903Skgnh401OB3LKYFC8M8jAM3PzC340hIST5KXMc85TI9iVNNiHii1pXnzRWKO9ymUUER3iOZVO2A1anas5qST4UVoPUHJv6AO0qZJLGmj55zIUYsTwVSvExxyUayzgVaV18nH23Onrz4FHPcZ_Y/s3088/IMG_8996.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgautxwDAgS6EreY-yPlCiHu40VNdwDkw0b878Uw_903Skgnh401OB3LKYFC8M8jAM3PzC340hIST5KXMc85TI9iVNNiHii1pXnzRWKO9ymUUER3iOZVO2A1anas5qST4UVoPUHJv6AO0qZJLGmj55zIUYsTwVSvExxyUayzgVaV18nH23Onrz4FHPcZ_Y/s16000/IMG_8996.jpeg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkF3DUitn7FgSyFSnRvZ6lWF0fduR003XRDd47D6PoEdoZocgpJ0N33IAPw7PPypmc7gqg3ANHO3PB7jDhtWIj6qzM7ThQJ8iXhomt5JoQqmBwNDZiN5FZzjNXciwPXWFEJXgugGPRdgab7HHzo8O9GffTWzjaH_r8sTwf6P_LLsmgWI9GvLlfcocj-HM/s4032/IMG_9005.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkF3DUitn7FgSyFSnRvZ6lWF0fduR003XRDd47D6PoEdoZocgpJ0N33IAPw7PPypmc7gqg3ANHO3PB7jDhtWIj6qzM7ThQJ8iXhomt5JoQqmBwNDZiN5FZzjNXciwPXWFEJXgugGPRdgab7HHzo8O9GffTWzjaH_r8sTwf6P_LLsmgWI9GvLlfcocj-HM/s16000/IMG_9005.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jemRlsJ57xVS1uxY6yHxWksTOBsrqt8ciUdRkTHH9TXOEITdiyWN-yDkhfgCmYHxtIv8LAWlFwyFgNpeCMMcAPuUjnjVKpEppcg4YwcPCcpjSsw1vW-mP2E_b9dRQClMvlsfTBZiTXepG33pv6i9R7q0xdhfL-ckKX-wLbdelSQNXN41Y-bVDW0qPuY/s4032/IMG_9027.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7jemRlsJ57xVS1uxY6yHxWksTOBsrqt8ciUdRkTHH9TXOEITdiyWN-yDkhfgCmYHxtIv8LAWlFwyFgNpeCMMcAPuUjnjVKpEppcg4YwcPCcpjSsw1vW-mP2E_b9dRQClMvlsfTBZiTXepG33pv6i9R7q0xdhfL-ckKX-wLbdelSQNXN41Y-bVDW0qPuY/s16000/IMG_9027.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmG0d5dbaNeFQE_FbPgp36gQZ6oKGVSBo50Fja_8cbPHS6Hz7Xh7u2X-0cnH8C2vQ3GTBcbOEt1LJCvWO2ConTs00a1eBJelY-hePE2mva1paGuxOnqakp9xIYuLfQ3Og2srxMYEf5UEIPDMBi5MMq_xZ91xWCU_ydjnaknVhc8esa84lEEoa8cVrdF_U/s4032/IMG_9036.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmG0d5dbaNeFQE_FbPgp36gQZ6oKGVSBo50Fja_8cbPHS6Hz7Xh7u2X-0cnH8C2vQ3GTBcbOEt1LJCvWO2ConTs00a1eBJelY-hePE2mva1paGuxOnqakp9xIYuLfQ3Og2srxMYEf5UEIPDMBi5MMq_xZ91xWCU_ydjnaknVhc8esa84lEEoa8cVrdF_U/s16000/IMG_9036.jpeg" title="Mini European Road Trip With A Toddler" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><h4><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Leg 5: Bruges > Home</span></div><b><br /></b></h4>
<p class="MsoNormal">Our final leg was the longest and therefore the one we were
least looking forward to. We purposefully tried to keep Alfie awake during the
drive from Bruges to Calais which was successful but then we were delayed at
Calais and ended up too far on the other side i.e. dealing with a toddler who
is past the point of sleep but very overtired. Let me tell ya: this combined
with being confined to a car in a queue is <i>not the one. </i>By the time we
were back in England, things had escalated and we had our first proper
experience of being the people with a small child screaming the place down in a
service station just outside Folkstone. Half empty service stations really echo,
don’t they? I re-used the old cheesy puff tactic to get him back into his car
seat which worked, only he realised five minutes later that he had been tricked
and was FUMING. Honestly, in the end – out of sheer desperation – I searched
YouTube for ‘get my baby to sleep’ videos, found some trippy shit that involved
floating sheep and whether by luck or judgement, it worked and the bugger that
is my firstborn fell asleep and I could finally bang my head against the window
in peace. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And that’s a great note to end on don’t ya think? </p></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div></div></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-90826521360096879132023-06-30T21:52:00.005+01:002023-06-30T22:02:17.962+01:00A Summer Wishlist <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4VzAWFVRo7GDv-NnARyqSjXyhf1EU3PzH2APVFdfsUUTqfTLBo5yIA5lNa17n0VjfVELK095o42EGIiXr0AyPZW_Y_7H3Un35KPWnFvhpFKbVWCowtwfYJrjHhLkNnwPHuR4G3spseW4LZ-kfFmufCpjI2nIeY7Evl267RWh_2qLD1TJViRbHdtDybI/s4032/Summer%20wishlist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A summer wishlist" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4VzAWFVRo7GDv-NnARyqSjXyhf1EU3PzH2APVFdfsUUTqfTLBo5yIA5lNa17n0VjfVELK095o42EGIiXr0AyPZW_Y_7H3Un35KPWnFvhpFKbVWCowtwfYJrjHhLkNnwPHuR4G3spseW4LZ-kfFmufCpjI2nIeY7Evl267RWh_2qLD1TJViRbHdtDybI/s16000/Summer%20wishlist.jpg" title="A summer wishlist" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I wrote this in mid-May when I was still wearing cardigans and hugging hot drinks. Spring just didn’t really show up in the end, eh? And then suddenly we were plunged from winter into proper summer, heat and pure blue skies. Somewhat surprisingly for me, I’ve been really enjoying it. I famously do not like high temperatures and I find that the hotter months heighten my anxiety around the climate crisis, but the long overdue vitamin D and the roses popping in my garden and Alfie <i>loving </i>being outside has had me feeling really quite cheerful. Also, very importantly, the temperatures are still dropping at night which I personally think is the difference between a heatwave being bearable or not (and therefore the difference in whether I behave like a grumpy gremlin or not). It’s reminding me of the summers of my childhood.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Anyway, I wrote this list to try and get the most out of the summer despite the temps and climate anxiety:<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Swim in a lido</b> – I’ve had a craving to go swimming in a lido since midwinter. Not sure where it came from, perhaps because I love swimming but barely do it, perhaps because there is something so uniquely special about swimming outside and I would love to do more of it. Either way, I’d really love to take a visit to our nearest lido this summer. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Take Alfie swimming</b> – and on a similar note, we feel like he’s hit an age now where he will be interested in (and we think enjoy given how much he seems to like playing with water) swimming, so we are keen to take him again in the near future. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Being outside with Alfie as much as possible</b> – I tell you, there is nothing more joyous then watching a toddler discover some of the simplest joys of the summer for the very first time. He keeps running to the back door, wanting to get out into the garden so he can charge about barefoot, throwing balls around. When we were on holiday, his biggest joy was playing with a couple of sticks he found in the garden. I could watch him do it all summer. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Visit my sister</b> – this is well overdue but I’m really looking forward to finally visiting my sister’s flat in London. Now that she’s newly engaged, this is going to be even more fun because it’s going to give us the opportunity to have a nose around her wedding venue. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Eat in Plants restaurant</b> – visiting the Deliciously Ella <i>Plants</i> restaurant in London is right at the top of my bucket list at the moment. I love her app and am low-key obsessed with the <i>Plants</i> Waitrose range so I would love to visit the restaurant. Whether budget and time allow this summer, I’m not sure, but I’m hopefully throwing it on the list anyway. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Have a night away just the two of us</b> – <i>a girl can dream.</i> Breastfeeding (18 months and counting) and Alfie’s terrible sleep has meant that this hasn’t yet felt possible for us, but we are really hoping that the time is upon us. We have paid our dues guys, manifest this for us please. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Have a trip to the seaside </b>– because if you didn’t dip your toes in the sea and spend several weeks afterwards finding sand in your shoes, did summer even happen? <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Have friends to stay </b>– really looking forward to having two of my oldest friends to stay and having a well overdue catch-up. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Go for a date night at The Old Hall</b> – my parents very generously gifted Gary a voucher for The Old Hall for his birthday and so we are planning a date night here very soon. The Old Hall is a gorgeous wedding venue/dining experience just outside of Ely and it is such a treat to go and eat there. We’ve been for <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2022/06/an-anniversary-dinner-old-hall-ely.html" target="_blank">dinner </a>and <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2022/11/sunday-lunch-old-hall-ely.html" target="_blank">Sunday lunch</a> before and both times were such lovely and memorable experiences. We are excited to go again, and it feels even more of a treat to not have to spend anything. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Other date nights </b>– we’re still trying to stick to at least one date a month and other ideas for the summer include: afternoon tea at <a href="http://www.abellyfullofwords.co.uk/2022/10/days-out-in-cambridge.html" target="_blank">Fitzbillies in Cambridge</a>; my friend Dan generously gifted us a voucher so we’re keen to go eat mini sandwiches and silly cakes on a summer’s afternoon, dinner and cocktails at <a href="https://www.instagram.com/theyard_ely/" target="_blank">The Yard</a> in Ely which has become one of my favourite places since it opened in March, plus we want to pay a visit to <a href="https://www.sixcambridge.co.uk/" target="_blank">Six in Cambridge </a>during the warmer months because <i>how good does that roof terrace look?! <br /><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Enjoy the little things synonymous with summer</b> – ice creams by the river, G&Ts in the garden, colourful summer dresses, eating dinner outside as much as possible, simple weekend BBQs, picnics, playing in the garden with Alfie, sunkissed skin, summer weddings, the garden looking beautiful and colourful, summer cooking, big sunglasses, painted toenails, that summer-evening-golden-hour glow. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Hope you are enjoying the summer dear reader, tell me, what do you have planned for July & August? </p>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-14262009846061498082023-06-30T20:48:00.001+01:002023-06-30T20:48:28.209+01:00One Minute Book Reviews: What I've Been Reading This Spring <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlC9u--UZ9Ehpw_z0LCvOpON7JCv7JwnABXBJYTGQWQ5FjC4ZDQkXYS6xLmqwVfqLCd3K28C9z7EkSkpprrxbvASMhNzEoBj23sr5r5CBjO3MBV5UnnvtBaImXutesXX4Ojl5VkAkMGd5SlOkzNryF6OxbQh8vqWoOriyOyBA87yA-qo1096BIuPqA-Y/s4032/Spring%20reading.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Spring reading" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnlC9u--UZ9Ehpw_z0LCvOpON7JCv7JwnABXBJYTGQWQ5FjC4ZDQkXYS6xLmqwVfqLCd3K28C9z7EkSkpprrxbvASMhNzEoBj23sr5r5CBjO3MBV5UnnvtBaImXutesXX4Ojl5VkAkMGd5SlOkzNryF6OxbQh8vqWoOriyOyBA87yA-qo1096BIuPqA-Y/s16000/Spring%20reading.jpg" title="Spring reading" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div><div style="text-align: center;">Light-hearted reads? Female friendships? Honest motherhood? Can’t-put-down-brilliance? I got you. Let’s dive in to what I’ve been reading in March, April & May. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>A Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers <br /><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Set hundreds of years in the future after humans have left planet Earth, we follow a team of misfits working on a tunnelling ship who are travelling across space to tunnel a wormhole to a distant planet. Along the way, they have to deal with mishaps and danger, and bond together as a family. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This was a surprisingly wholesome book, full of adorable characters and gentle adventure. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting; I thought I’d be reading a fast-paced plot, but this was mostly character-driven and was perhaps a little cheesy in places. But the level of detail in the world building was very impressive and I’d read the further novels in the series. Also, I loved the cover and the fact this started out life as a self-published novel via a Kickstarter campaign. 3.5/5</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Holding the Baby: Milk, sweat & tears from the frontline of motherhood by Nell Frizzell <br /><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Part memoir, part manifesto, this book sets out to understand why we treat parenthood as an individual slog rather than a cultural responsibility. Via extremely honest stories of her own experiences of sleep deprivation, childcare and maternal rage, the author draws on latest research to explore issues such as the effect of parenting on our careers, the affordability of childcare and why, if parenting is so difficult, why does anyone do it more than once? <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Complete with quirky sketches that made me snort, this was one of the most accurate depictions of modern-day motherhood that I’ve come across, delving right into a lot of the unspoken ‘taboo’ topics. I found it immensely comforting and extremely funny. I would recommend this to everyone because I think we could all be better educated on the ways society repeatedly fails young children and those raising them, but I’d particularly recommend to all parents, especially those in the early years. 4.5/5 <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Spilt Milk by Amy Beashel </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ooo this was an interesting one. A story about a mother of a young child who accidentally publishes a blog post about her intentions to have a termination of her second child, without telling her husband, and the subsequent fallout of the post. This novel dealt with some really interesting issues, not-regretting-but-regretting motherhood, the division of labour between couples, the grief of losing a parent, the relentlessness of modern-day parenting, the danger of the things left unsaid, influencer and cancel culture, and media manipulation… to name a few! I thought it was a bold and brave novel, but I did struggle with the likeability of the characters. Ultimately, I found I didn’t really care that much if the couple at the heart of the story worked through their problems and, whilst I liked the intention behind the ending, I found it a touch unrealistic and an indication of the unrecognised privilege of the characters. 3/5 </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The 24-Hour Café by Libby Page </b><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Two best friends work in a 24-hour café just outside Liverpool Street station to support their efforts to become a dancer and a singer. Over the course of 24 hours, we learn about the history of their friendship, as well as the potential breakdown. At its heart, this is a story about the intensity of female friendships, but also how these friendships change as we get older, as well as that period of life in your late twenties/early thirties when things start to shift. In between, the novel is peppered with mini stories about the people drifting in and out of the café. Whilst a little slow in places, this was a lovely little novel full of the ups and downs of life. 3.5/5<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Someone Else’s Shoes by Jojo Moyes </b><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Had my eye on this book but couldn’t justify the full price (£22!) and then I found it for £3.90 on Vinted. What a win! A great read about two women who experience a bag mix-up at the gym which leads to a whole host of hilarity. Nisha lives a globetrotting, wealthy lifestyle until her husband inexplicably cuts her off entirely and she is left standing in her dressing gown and someone else’s shoes. Sam is struggling to keep herself and her family afloat whilst her husband suffers from depression and her boss bullies her until someone else’s shoes give her – and her career – a boost. Loved the hotel setting – think maid-in-Manhattan vibes – although, ultimately, the love story is about female friendships and women banding together. Inhaled this in twenty-four hours and was left with the happy, buzzy feeling of a noughties rom com. 4.5/5<br /><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>The Odyssey by Lara Williams <br /><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ingrid works on a huge cruise liner rotating between the gift shop, nail salon, lifeguard duties and wherever else on the ship she may be allocated. On her days off, she disembarks the ship and gets wasted in whatever country she finds herself in. Then one day, she is selected for the captain’s ‘mentorship’ programme where she is pushed to the point that her carefully constructed life starts to fall apart. <br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I’ll be honest, the only reason I finished this was because it is a short novel. I think otherwise, I would have given up because it was far too surreal and unsatisfactory for my liking. At first, I thought it was because I have become a little tired of the ‘disenfranchised millennial’ genre but ultimately, I just felt like the meaning was going over my head. I hoped for some kind of clarification at the end and was frustrated when I didn’t get it. A shame because I loved the author’s other novel, <i>Supper Club</i>, so I was disappointed with this one. 2/5<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Yellowface by Rebecca F. Kuang <br /><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">A literary heist: young talented author, Athena Liu, dies in a freak accident and her ‘friend’, June Hayward, steals her unpublished manuscript and publishes it as her own under the ambiguous name Juniper Song. What follows is a juicy thriller giving fascinating insights into the publishing world, white privilege and social media cancel culture. This was my first experience reading something by Rebecca F. Kuang and I can’t wait to delve into her other work because this was a treat. What a talent to make such a dislikeable protagonist so compelling. I could not put this down and would highly recommend. 5/5</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Happy reading folks x </div><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-3226014893437966182023-05-25T21:21:00.003+01:002023-05-26T15:24:01.294+01:00Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London: Favourite Baby Friendly Spots <p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvWiXTHdeparsk1dPZfLwxvT_DVOjkDwlGJAv7SA6QmEC74JK55-0Famle951LMyuK27RASDfjkyTQJDo9C8aY6uW1nEi-ZTNwjF3EmlWTItyWz6VVipx2eHOqngDWot-BZ8xzYvbJcR9dmuROagYsQh9UZ0-5JtN6Fdg1x8ueA6BD_0FGUmYg8Ka/s4032/IMG_1597.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvWiXTHdeparsk1dPZfLwxvT_DVOjkDwlGJAv7SA6QmEC74JK55-0Famle951LMyuK27RASDfjkyTQJDo9C8aY6uW1nEi-ZTNwjF3EmlWTItyWz6VVipx2eHOqngDWot-BZ8xzYvbJcR9dmuROagYsQh9UZ0-5JtN6Fdg1x8ueA6BD_0FGUmYg8Ka/s16000/IMG_1597.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">One of the highlights of my maternity leave was taking semi-regular trips into London to spend time in Coal Drop’s Yard, just behind King’s Cross station. Alfie and I got into a routine of taking the train into King’s Cross on a weekday and then meeting friends with babies, friends who worked irregular hours or friends who were willing to take a cheeky afternoon off. It felt manageable with a very young baby (we started doing this when Alfie was about 3 months old) because there was only one train to contend with (i.e. no tube) and we didn’t travel that far from the station. Alfie has always seemed quite taken with trains (and not cars – very like his mama) so we would hop on the train mid-morning, spend a few hours hanging out around Coal Drop’s Yard and then hop back on the train, home in time for bath and bed. It worked very well. It was also a real treat for me because, after years of drifting past Coal Drop’s Yard during commutes, but never having enough time to explore properly, I finally felt like I had the opportunity to investigate all the great food places around there. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">The thing that surprised me the most – just how baby-friendly it was. In many ways, I am preferring this new toddler phase but I have to admit, a massive perk of the early months is just how portable those little ones are and how they <i>stay where you put them</i>. It actually makes dining out with them pretty easy, once you’re over the initial reservations about having to deal with nappy changes and whacking your boob out in public. I’m really glad I did manage to embrace this as much as finances allowed. Here’s some of my favourite discoveries (and I’m sure there are many more still to discover): </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QADbIpikbNlUPU-25O3ff2BPUfPaFpV62U5NTD3RQ7Cr60ZbB7reXKq4_k8sXZPMzfaDwv46TL2r-yv9aIaFwjgwlW5JLNVNDsOhfaX4vJjx45VICYvU6LLv9Eal5ijSsSJlLrZwKHkj-WBXhVsLBzoOWskNmjXDDPMDWWLtmGuaZv6FNO3jIU7w/s2016/3597a2d8-a638-4b63-b044-854bdf6a9c07.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_QADbIpikbNlUPU-25O3ff2BPUfPaFpV62U5NTD3RQ7Cr60ZbB7reXKq4_k8sXZPMzfaDwv46TL2r-yv9aIaFwjgwlW5JLNVNDsOhfaX4vJjx45VICYvU6LLv9Eal5ijSsSJlLrZwKHkj-WBXhVsLBzoOWskNmjXDDPMDWWLtmGuaZv6FNO3jIU7w/s16000/3597a2d8-a638-4b63-b044-854bdf6a9c07.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2f6XYWjBpZdw3g5N5BEKKeK33guZDwwlhM7bTHspwo6GeVBwJ60beEC94UsPxtOADW2CfJ5KRMS7gf-d9AnDzTzB_Yb4WBxR_XX-4U9htQovGJXAcS9qMw89y7HUfJRn-tJ8Dtj_xri8OtbdtOBwreOQUnZ788_0Kf0rSe_hWauGRhh8U03sIogZ/s4032/IMG_0573.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_2f6XYWjBpZdw3g5N5BEKKeK33guZDwwlhM7bTHspwo6GeVBwJ60beEC94UsPxtOADW2CfJ5KRMS7gf-d9AnDzTzB_Yb4WBxR_XX-4U9htQovGJXAcS9qMw89y7HUfJRn-tJ8Dtj_xri8OtbdtOBwreOQUnZ788_0Kf0rSe_hWauGRhh8U03sIogZ/s16000/IMG_0573.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhIjxeRBCIc_7x-POZHqbC19qrQGwjKzPh_716JYEukgcLC5r6P28RWdVTnQ1lJHGIWN4VfE89DsqS99nDBww4WcxHb-h15QOUaVWKeN8J5fgWTqz1F_skymW8Y23wR4P0AzASEpeLHc5t30seknd5KoTHSgYXxt0eRdtb-6FeP0_LZ1YysviW0ec/s4032/IMG_1419.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhIjxeRBCIc_7x-POZHqbC19qrQGwjKzPh_716JYEukgcLC5r6P28RWdVTnQ1lJHGIWN4VfE89DsqS99nDBww4WcxHb-h15QOUaVWKeN8J5fgWTqz1F_skymW8Y23wR4P0AzASEpeLHc5t30seknd5KoTHSgYXxt0eRdtb-6FeP0_LZ1YysviW0ec/s16000/IMG_1419.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9D6k9JMGEffqiQobG0xFnFVUiggGdWBi8t9OpxjgyPzQmXfxv1hO5mTBOZAylosp0iVTFRKDZIM1aiviXWra0ALi4lZP-r53iXTyloSeXTSCuvxx3pvm4SFL_02gt3EpLQFaA3tqYfVeRpVsZ74sbUXtxhDoruMvqb5q7daMZqEAnjyXoysQJ8c_F/s4032/IMG_1342.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9D6k9JMGEffqiQobG0xFnFVUiggGdWBi8t9OpxjgyPzQmXfxv1hO5mTBOZAylosp0iVTFRKDZIM1aiviXWra0ALi4lZP-r53iXTyloSeXTSCuvxx3pvm4SFL_02gt3EpLQFaA3tqYfVeRpVsZ74sbUXtxhDoruMvqb5q7daMZqEAnjyXoysQJ8c_F/s16000/IMG_1342.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://granarysquarebrasserie.com/" target="_blank">Granary Square Brasserie </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Alright, cheating here because I had been to Granary Square Brasserie a few times pre-baby but this was the first place I came when Alfie was three months to meet two of my oldest friends, one who had a baby just three weeks after me. We had two prams, two newborns and it was a total dream. It’s so easy to a) worry about going to a restaurant with a baby and b) being far from home with a baby and without your other half when you’ve never done it before, but this was a real lesson in how most people really couldn’t care less that you have a baby with you. We sat outside, ate three delicious courses and the babies played musical chairs between our laps. The food is classic British bistro style but with that extra bit of <i>summin’</i>. The zucchini fries are always a crowd pleaser. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://happyface.pizza/" target="_blank">Happy Place </a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Specifically designed to be family friendly but in a non-crap way (you know what I mean), this place offers a kids menu and colouring sheets, and cocktails and excellent pizzas for adults. My friend and I went with both a toddler and a baby and felt like we didn’t need to worry about the inevitable chaos that results in whilst still enjoying pizza and a cheeky lunchtime tipple. Also, there’s a playground nearby where said toddler could run about and benches where said baby could have a feed. </div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://www.dishoom.com/kings-cross/" target="_blank">Dishoom</a> <br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Boy, do I love Dishoom. <i>Love.</i> But it was a bit of a slow burner for me; the first couple of times I went, I disliked how long the queues were and felt like I hadn’t made the most of the menu. What I’ve learned is to visit on weekdays or less-common eating times, ask the waiter for recommendations and pick things slightly at random because everything is delicious. Also, the chai is bottomless and you must make the most of that. Oh and the rice pudding is sublime. <i>And </i>it’s a great place for vegans. I’ll stop now. My main point is, when I rocked up with a buggy and a four-month-old to have lunch with my friend, they didn’t bat an eyelid. Moved us to a more spacious (step-free) table, were efficient getting us the bill when Alfie started to get restless etc. Bonus point – the décor and smells make for pretty decent baby sensory. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRtjdsFP-3UTfZGOFhPtgtvXjJ7TvoY5aBnxMMaSXsHNc4L2E_9_HjGXN6ntL6tzQYp9oN86m0LdGrZ12eDh7GJC-vStatXcxHq5y-gNofwNw1b0aIPeqItwX9eXUlEXAISsLtoTPXfRwcStJval4ldcsMFo1YQGF75U-qewxYE65YWI0tz_laPIE/s4032/IMG_1596.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRtjdsFP-3UTfZGOFhPtgtvXjJ7TvoY5aBnxMMaSXsHNc4L2E_9_HjGXN6ntL6tzQYp9oN86m0LdGrZ12eDh7GJC-vStatXcxHq5y-gNofwNw1b0aIPeqItwX9eXUlEXAISsLtoTPXfRwcStJval4ldcsMFo1YQGF75U-qewxYE65YWI0tz_laPIE/s16000/IMG_1596.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksSlVjtAiGPesPu3AAqN0_XXFSmFRRjJODeHVxHpB0CtvaMeZF75e7vSIDcGKIIGtCifeglFcmZctSJSM7YHczPz0yo17HiKxS4jBNerXCoOVc4AtKJKQWPrm2sd71mSGgEl4ivbIcRkRURSrDfM7axO13_6qj7gzhS14tjbybwCbYPpF9Y21Oqce/s4032/IMG_1600.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksSlVjtAiGPesPu3AAqN0_XXFSmFRRjJODeHVxHpB0CtvaMeZF75e7vSIDcGKIIGtCifeglFcmZctSJSM7YHczPz0yo17HiKxS4jBNerXCoOVc4AtKJKQWPrm2sd71mSGgEl4ivbIcRkRURSrDfM7axO13_6qj7gzhS14tjbybwCbYPpF9Y21Oqce/s16000/IMG_1600.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMpHHkPcB-xzWjqqu3SExJwIA0JrBod7sRAQlB8sz9hRoPRraIuQI3I6yNoAuafp4ICqNl7NCqVYg5g78jlPYttmUNJmw1LzrvTZuglBRCTkxGtc77jF7E5Zn2Ah3hO5amq_TOD4HM6HQWAoeXTkcctHq3bMx1tKX4MxqiN0s6I0XqNJhjRy4Fd4e/s4032/IMG_3441.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMpHHkPcB-xzWjqqu3SExJwIA0JrBod7sRAQlB8sz9hRoPRraIuQI3I6yNoAuafp4ICqNl7NCqVYg5g78jlPYttmUNJmw1LzrvTZuglBRCTkxGtc77jF7E5Zn2Ah3hO5amq_TOD4HM6HQWAoeXTkcctHq3bMx1tKX4MxqiN0s6I0XqNJhjRy4Fd4e/s16000/IMG_3441.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlW-L7H9LDm8UHB6Dwy30Xlb0dM2zd4ymUKjvIrPWJgSkOmGW5X1fg7046PN-Cg977vtsYGd3r-RcpBepc7H4k7mbpZ3sV0YBSIS_6mqwzD4QO3zmeMjpv40qLbxJKQr2_pVJ6sU6_yNFvtUzwjvSq9NVeWwrX2A9XrCmS93NKKExy9PqOcOqrqrf/s1600/8f65a943-2ace-4090-8edb-97e483a3b9d3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1044" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKlW-L7H9LDm8UHB6Dwy30Xlb0dM2zd4ymUKjvIrPWJgSkOmGW5X1fg7046PN-Cg977vtsYGd3r-RcpBepc7H4k7mbpZ3sV0YBSIS_6mqwzD4QO3zmeMjpv40qLbxJKQr2_pVJ6sU6_yNFvtUzwjvSq9NVeWwrX2A9XrCmS93NKKExy9PqOcOqrqrf/s16000/8f65a943-2ace-4090-8edb-97e483a3b9d3.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://sonsanddaughterslondon.com/" target="_blank">Sons & Daughters </a><br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">A great one for the summer – these guys do really good takeaway sandwiches. Any sandwich made with focaccia elevates it to a new level in my opinion. Take a blanket and let baby roll about or go sit by the fountains in Granary Square and let the water entertain them. Either way it’s a cute summer scene and you have a very nice sandwich. <br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://caravanandco.com/" target="_blank">Caravan</a><br /><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">When I first walked into Caravan, I did have a slight fear that I might be pushing my luck. The warehouse-type vibe with long, shared tables did make me wonder if this was really going to work with a seven-month-old. But again, nobody batted an eyelid. The waitress seated us at the end of the table, produced a highchair without asking and spent most of the time cooing over Alfie (she loved him so much, we got a small discount). The menu is inspired by the founders’ travels so there is all sorts on there; can confirm that the sourdough pizza is very good. <br /><br /></p><div><div><a href="https://www.linastores.co.uk/locations/stable-street-restaurant-delicatessen" target="_blank">Lina’s</a> <br /><br /></div><div>For some reason, I really felt like Lina’s wasn’t going to be baby friendly. I’m not sure if it’s the gorgeous décor or the delicate plates of pasta, but I’d somehow convinced myself that I wasn’t going to be popular bringing in a small human. Perhaps it was also because this was when Alfie was eleven months and a lot more active. You know how this goes by now but being proved wrong with Lina’s was particularly amusing because we walked into the restaurant, and I counted no less than six tables with babies in highchairs. Lina’s is all about the pasta and it is delicious. Their tagliolini al tartufo is a particular highlight for me. My only gripe is that the portions sizes are very small so ordering three mains between two of you is perfectly acceptable. Con – more expensive. Pro – you get to try more of the delicious food. And a table full of multiple plates of pasta is my idea of heaven, quite frankly. Don’t forget to have a nose around their deli on the way out. </div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01GFzm4aR45SlNdOtdb3eTXmM5jgg8vrSlLoIbElGqPEqg69DjQhMdNYFqifvNo35fW-h-1Mfg8i8OHB47LLCQsiSoiApkwxCuSxC5ccSuVDDRsE8UmVx2Kt97HZ2uPiftR_EB33GA86o0LLQvVJWAMrMOM7V40Nsj2wfQ30_S45cj6OPcHIGz46S/s4032/IMG_5862.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi01GFzm4aR45SlNdOtdb3eTXmM5jgg8vrSlLoIbElGqPEqg69DjQhMdNYFqifvNo35fW-h-1Mfg8i8OHB47LLCQsiSoiApkwxCuSxC5ccSuVDDRsE8UmVx2Kt97HZ2uPiftR_EB33GA86o0LLQvVJWAMrMOM7V40Nsj2wfQ30_S45cj6OPcHIGz46S/s16000/IMG_5862.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy37TlAtd2lrsEweXmPvaKDoCwWmEVQQgrxhGdTjAqH1VQM8X_BRRufEwAPCcWJOeV3es9UKTme94-PvI9ACu4F313l7NGx9W8JnvokvcBIQYpDMkpVZYznKrYXBDKCQiR4kDx5u4-E-YsN0yGt-_6PHH8TZiefrLlsF9eH2Jgu_yODzQbfQDUvHeA/s4032/IMG_5860.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy37TlAtd2lrsEweXmPvaKDoCwWmEVQQgrxhGdTjAqH1VQM8X_BRRufEwAPCcWJOeV3es9UKTme94-PvI9ACu4F313l7NGx9W8JnvokvcBIQYpDMkpVZYznKrYXBDKCQiR4kDx5u4-E-YsN0yGt-_6PHH8TZiefrLlsF9eH2Jgu_yODzQbfQDUvHeA/s16000/IMG_5860.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp9p8r8pUM4MaidV_hmjPk3qrULdjj9924yl97crkUCx7cywWi5F_WOhyA4jNNImLlXryagYo-ZOMsyIYdAT0fyudLK6CngT3AazObaF_dPdhPp-H45qmiTwN3OdHBFZWxjB70HkMhiIEcGtJCcf-GrjO5HylH80Kr37K6dYlk1rgF60rPn52TYb6t/s4032/IMG_5841.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp9p8r8pUM4MaidV_hmjPk3qrULdjj9924yl97crkUCx7cywWi5F_WOhyA4jNNImLlXryagYo-ZOMsyIYdAT0fyudLK6CngT3AazObaF_dPdhPp-H45qmiTwN3OdHBFZWxjB70HkMhiIEcGtJCcf-GrjO5HylH80Kr37K6dYlk1rgF60rPn52TYb6t/s16000/IMG_5841.jpeg" title="Lunch In Coal Drops Yard, London" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-44261884474364191372023-04-18T11:00:00.000+01:002023-04-18T11:00:02.449+01:00That First Trip To A&E<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCP21OxQQSv0uDjUGPIr4ECei0l4ZL5265mkD7CGhqpyWpHmDfBJwKMEC3KdN9HUP7r9ANkaEL5RL6K5ujaZNhbi8KQIREcGdHzuOIsxYxiQxShNE9JVZddcYAkalliwHscFN4H92GUeGFYn-0jF0g86cZtpJZe9PCQXP0ZdgpxOQalOqfdO2sQNOb/s4032/A&E.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A&E" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCP21OxQQSv0uDjUGPIr4ECei0l4ZL5265mkD7CGhqpyWpHmDfBJwKMEC3KdN9HUP7r9ANkaEL5RL6K5ujaZNhbi8KQIREcGdHzuOIsxYxiQxShNE9JVZddcYAkalliwHscFN4H92GUeGFYn-0jF0g86cZtpJZe9PCQXP0ZdgpxOQalOqfdO2sQNOb/s16000/A&E.jpg" title="A&E" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> There’s a certain feeling when stepping out of the house at half three in the morning. A stillness, like everything is cloaked in an extra layer of quiet. I have been awake many times at half three in the morning since my son was born but within the confines of a dark room, not in the chilly middle-of-the-night air. It reminds both my husband and I of leaving for family holidays as children. </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Unfortunately, we’re not leaving the house in the middle of the night to catch a flight or drive a long distance. We’re leaving the house after being sprayed with vomit, seeing ‘40.5’ flash up on our thermometer and a call with NHS 111. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">The inaugural trip to A&E. Weather-worn parents had warned us it would come but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. We don’t actually know we’re going to A&E yet, at the moment we’re heading to an out-of-hours GP appointment which will result in a referral to paediatric A&E. I’m sat in the backseat, holding my son’s hand. He has immediately gone back to sleep with a slight huff, like this is all incredibly inconvenient for him. I am not panicking; I have a gut instinct that whatever is wrong with him is not one of the Big Scary Ones. I actually have this strange sensation that I’m going to look back on this almost fondly one day. Not him being ill or driving to hospital in the middle of the night on less than three hours sleep, but that feeling that he needs us, that feel of him cuddled into my chest, the sensation that – whilst very worrying – we as his parents can try and solve the problem.<br /> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Addenbrookes is an enormous hospital and trying to figure out where the hell you need to go amongst all the dark buildings in the middle of the night does feel a little like the start of a crime drama. We being the unlucky victims that don’t survive the opening credits of course. My son is awake, wrapped in a blanket and looking around in a bemused fashion. If he could form the words, I’m pretty sure he’d say: ‘what the hell is going on?’. As it happens the only words he currently can say are ‘oh dear’ which feels pretty apt. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We find the clinic and sit in a jarringly-brightly-lit waiting area. We are the only ones there and I am forcibly reminded of the last time we were in this scenario, in the same hospital, only I was on my knees, making mooing noises and forty-five minutes away from delivering a baby, and my husband was frantically trying to find someone to let us into the maternity unit. <i>Not as bad as that</i>, I think. We are seen by the GP only twenty-five minutes after our appointment time – I was expecting longer – and we answer the questions we have already answered three times to various people over the phone. She gives him a thorough and kind assessment and decides that his raised heartrate and the way his belly sucks under his ribs as he breathes is enough to have him reviewed by the paediatric registrar. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Paediatric A&E is right next to the usual A&E, only it’s a small, grey door and doesn’t have the shining red sign. It is also locked. So, we have to brave normal A&E which is busy but silent and is the first time I have the thought <i>I would really like to be somewhere else now</i>. A&E – at least from the perspective of the patients – must be one of the most depressing places in the country and I feet for the weary-looking woman in blue scrubs who heads towards us, automatically pulling out the red priority wrist band as she does so. She sends us back out to the security guard who can let us through the grey door, and he is the one who warns us it is unlikely they will let both parents in. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I get the reasoning, I really do, but separating one parent from their sick child and leaving the other to cope alone is highly stressful for all involved. I am left alone with my sick toddler in one arm, overflowing bag in the other, trying to keep the blanket around him, trying to open doors and not drop his cup which he keeps desperately sucking water from. I am also trying to fish my phone out of my pocket so I can be ready to keep my husband updated as much as possible. I’m then asked to fill out a form which means contorting my spine in an unnatural position so as to bend down to the desk and not drop my child. Honestly, I’m amazed there aren’t more mothers in A&E with mum-back syndrome. Surely it must be a thing? <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We’re shown to a bay, and I gratefully drop the bag and sink into the chair. My son, who tries to go back to sleep every time we stop, drapes himself across my front again and closes his eyes. I wrap my arms around him and wish I could do the same. I lean my head back and wonder when the last time I wore a facemask was. Surreal to think it used to be all the time. I’d forgotten how easily they make your glasses steam up. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">We are reviewed by a nurse, then by a paediatric registrar. My son screams loud enough to wake up half of Cambridge whilst being gently fed ibuprofen but doesn’t bat an eyelid when something is put in his ear. Go figure. I try and take in all the information – ear infection, inflamed throat, upper respiratory tract infection – but I know I’m going to forget details later. I know he is okay though. That I remember. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">My husband and I text from different ends of the hospital with updates, dealing with practicalities (<i>I’ve messaged my line manager, the shop is coming at 9, reckon your parents can go over and collect it</i>) as well as the important details: <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>There is a mini shopping centre here… Costa, M&S, The Body Shop… Reckon I could sneak you in a pain au chocolat? <br /><br /></i></p><p style="text-align: center;">I snort and vow to go get a pastry the moment they tell us we can go. Which they do, surprisingly soon. And then I have antibiotics in my pocket and am looking at croissants in M&S as the sun rises over A&E. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">My son’s fever breaks in the car on the way home, his silky hair messy with sweat, and my husband declares that he is quite happy to spend the rest of his life pottering about coffee shops. Which is mostly what we do these days. Exhausted parents, clinging onto the first sip of that hot drink, wondering when we stopped talking about exciting trips and started repeatedly talking about a small person’s bodily fluids. <br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">But when you have a scare, when you spend the night in a hospital holding onto your sick child, you realise there is such privilege in the mundanity. In the hot drink that you can afford and the healthy child trying to eat other people’s crumbs off the floor. I’ll take that any day. </p><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3286537790400580294.post-17816934680312301472023-03-15T20:27:00.002+00:002023-12-13T07:41:54.117+00:00One Minute Book Reviews: What I've Been Reading This Winter <p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKOrWvzekjqzWWkHiRnrkg4QnEqcJtpL3asqxOaWLaECgMMnPLWArpaDvMPbHUaKXg9R17caeWIrKYDZkaOPl7VUqnDuEWAe5BTdykvPIo0p9yUbq7cA704JM8A9viLl_w2W4r6_E4Zv0QeZ8dar8wBde7oVOUL_fbmMxpPThNjIuHGZxrx4oSyxF/s4032/Winter%20reading.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Winter reading" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKOrWvzekjqzWWkHiRnrkg4QnEqcJtpL3asqxOaWLaECgMMnPLWArpaDvMPbHUaKXg9R17caeWIrKYDZkaOPl7VUqnDuEWAe5BTdykvPIo0p9yUbq7cA704JM8A9viLl_w2W4r6_E4Zv0QeZ8dar8wBde7oVOUL_fbmMxpPThNjIuHGZxrx4oSyxF/s16000/Winter%20reading.jpg" title="Winter reading" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Ooo it’s been a good start to the year reading-wise. Some truly brilliant books. Let’s dive right in! </div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The Food Almanac compiled by Miranda York</b> - The perfect gentle book to start the year with. From various writers and artists, a beautiful collection of stories, recipes and illustrations for each month in the kitchen. It would be ideal to read each chapter at the beginning of each month of the year but after two years sat on my bookshelf with this intention (I kept forgetting), I decided to read it all in one go and it was lovely to do this in January and look forward to the year ahead. Essential reading if you are a foodie and love food writing. 4/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Woman, Eating by Claire Kohda </b>- A young vampire moves to London to live alone for the first time, and struggles to access the pig’s blood she needs, to reconcile the conflicts she feels about her diet, about her mixed-raced heritage, and her relationship with humans. I found this to be unsettling, claustrophobic, almost stream-of-consciousness and a unique take on millennial angst and the vampire genre. I once read a book reviewer describing a book as something they had ‘experienced rather than enjoyed’, and that’s a pretty accurate summary of this book for me. And yet I can’t deny that I have thought about this book a lot since reading. 3.5/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Really Good, Actually by Monica Heisey</b> - A year in the life of Maggie, aged 29, whose marriage has ended after just 608 days. This was both involuntary-snort-out-loud funny and desperately heartbreaking. An exploration of loneliness in the internet age, the long road to recovery after a traumatic event and the harsh realities of being single in a society that prizes relationships. Maggie’s character was so well written that I felt like I really knew her and the entire chapters given to google searches, lists and emails were comedy genius. 5/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJxOmjeh3vcxEIwybb6jUSjR_IboXFHmnKRcauuEmon-4K0ehoyDJLtTEUxUUlaMWZTcIhQaF06XIEVJ9PHrbpK5ZuqmxCLoQiu_mg2eURAjafYwnF2lC9-wJy_G8qYuRL6iyN4UhdyeRcee1iQRqkRKTLzg9BidW-s81cGZGYwtDOLsxFP25fB-z/s4032/Really%20good%20actually.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Really good actually" border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieJxOmjeh3vcxEIwybb6jUSjR_IboXFHmnKRcauuEmon-4K0ehoyDJLtTEUxUUlaMWZTcIhQaF06XIEVJ9PHrbpK5ZuqmxCLoQiu_mg2eURAjafYwnF2lC9-wJy_G8qYuRL6iyN4UhdyeRcee1iQRqkRKTLzg9BidW-s81cGZGYwtDOLsxFP25fB-z/s16000/Really%20good%20actually.jpg" title="Really good actually" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7mF3VHkyIuyFsBDLe4lKkVS_-FJ6Br_NpDEkxU49wuepTsDBnkDXadFZkFAOdkaduQ833Fa3kmgXf-UTuINdVDL7uY8F-1gd0G1iRyf69saKiw9QkmP4Ssh_eRzCvkbzgNBPlUHWfMLRgyd5FDAvfqj_sWlEYFaNLk_osXSY9Gr5TWAdfd9dSA_l/s3780/The%20Whalebone%20Theatre.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="The Whalebone Theatre" border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7mF3VHkyIuyFsBDLe4lKkVS_-FJ6Br_NpDEkxU49wuepTsDBnkDXadFZkFAOdkaduQ833Fa3kmgXf-UTuINdVDL7uY8F-1gd0G1iRyf69saKiw9QkmP4Ssh_eRzCvkbzgNBPlUHWfMLRgyd5FDAvfqj_sWlEYFaNLk_osXSY9Gr5TWAdfd9dSA_l/s16000/The%20Whalebone%20Theatre.jpg" title="The Whalebone Theatre" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin</b> - I nearly didn’t buy into the hype of this one because I have no interest in gaming whatsoever but if you’re the same, I’m here to confirm that this book is absolutely worth your time. It tells the 20+ year saga of Sam and Sadie who meet in hospital as children and go on to become famous video game designers. There’s love, friendship, devastation, escapism and ultimately, the beauty of creativity. It’s an incredibly immersive book, just like the games themselves, and each character is beautifully human with strong flaws, but always with redemptive features too. Yes it broke my heart, but I loved it. 5/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>The Whalebone Theatre by Joanna Quinn</b> - I admit, I’m pretty generous with book ratings. But then, I don’t understand this unwillingness to give a higher rating simply because you’ve read a lot of good books recently or you want to be deliberately harsh. If I’ve enjoyed a book, I’m all for shouting about it. Some books, however, do make me wish to rate that bit higher. To add an extra star; 6/5 so to speak. And this is definitely one of those books. The writing was truly gorgeous. Following the lives of three unconventional siblings, this expansive novel takes you from a crumbling house in Dorset to occupied France, from the purity of childhood summers to an early adulthood derailed by war. A family saga told over many years, a tale of friendship, courage and hope and some of the most vivid descriptions of war I have ever come across; to say I felt right at the heart of it would be an understatement. This novel already feels like a classic. 5/5 </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>I Have Some Questions For You by Rebecca Makkai </b>- Successful film professor and podcaster, Bodie Kane, returns to teach a course at the boarding school where she spent her unhappy high school years and where her former roommate was murdered. As she gets drawn into the botched police investigation, the internet theories suggesting the wrong man was convicted and her own resurfacing memories of the time, she begins to wonder if she knows more about the case than she initially realised. I read this in a bit of a frenzy because the mystery of who killed Thalia was incredibly absorbing. It kept me guessing right until the end and whilst the reader gets an answer, I liked the fact that it wasn’t a neatly tied up ending. No justice for an unfair world. I found this a clever book, well beyond the central who-dunnit plotline, particularly the social media and cancel culture sub-threads, the delve into the unreliability of collective memory and the questions surrounding the morality of true crime podcasts and social media detectives. 5/5</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Happy reading folks x </p><div><br /></div>Kate http://www.blogger.com/profile/01531455659785186210noreply@blogger.com0