The Winter Book by Tove Jansson – Short stories for adults by the inventor of Moominland

River Cottage Everyday by Hugh Fearnley-Wittingstall – I cannot even begin to describe how good this book is, every recipe an absolute winner.

Reilly, Ace of Spies – This series was broadcast in 1983, I never actually heard of it before, it was recommended by a friend. Gripping stuff, excellent winter DVD fodder.

Since I last blogged I have;
-knitted two pairs of mittens for T, neither of which fitted
-been to work loads (ooh, like 5 days EVERY week)
-baked a couple of cakes
-fallen off my bike twice in the ice (HATE ice riding)
-started singing Gilbert and Sullivan arias
-been to a parents evening for S and heard lots of good things
-been on a romantic and long overdue trip to London with Mr BK (well I think cemetries containing dead political philosphers are romantic)
-Started work on turning bits of my Mum’s garden into a veg growing paradise

Definitely feeling that the winter hibernation is nearly over

-Work, work, work, work, work. I won’t go into detail (this blog is about my real life after all…..) but the past few weeks have been consumed with the preparatory phase of a Seriously Big Project. We get a little break for a few weeks, so it’s back to just doing the day job for a while.

- My choir had it’s summer buffet concert.

- I knitted my first Baby Surprise Jacket. Does anyone know any surprise babies needing one?

- My beloved (but admittedly rather knackered) old wooden Adler treble recorder finally gave up the ghost. It split in four places. So I have finally succumbed to the world of recorder consumerism and am now the happy owner of a Moeck Rottenburg in Palisander from the rather wonderful Early Music Shop and a Moeck Tuju in maplewood bagged on Ebay. I’m playing them in now.

And I had two holidays at half term!
-For the bank holiday weekend, T and I went on a specialist weekend for autistic families organised by Through the Roof. It was just so relaxing, and fun. T was looked after for much of the weekend by the incomparable Vicky and had an absolute ball. I mostly sat around drinking tea and nattering. Which was just what I needed, given that the deadline for all that work I’d been doing was lunchtime on the day that the holiday started.

-We got back home on the Monday evening and on Tuesday morning, all four of us set off for the wilds of Ardnamurchan for what turned out to be the first successful family holiday we’ve had for four years. Define success? Well everyone enjoyed it and we didn’t come back thinking that it would have been easier to not bother taking T away from home. Nice weather, too.

And Mr. BK went to Poland and brought me back a picture of JPII as a present! And S did his Year9 SATs. And he had his 14th birthday. And I had to go to a beancounters conference that night so missed it. And T had his annual statement review – all presented on the smartboard with the lad doing cute and clever things like buying bananas in Sainsburys or parallel playing with a classmate.

Well, I think it could make millions

Someone bought me a goat for Christmas.

Now, please don’t get me wrong. I do not begrudge the lady in the Tanzania her goat.

And this is not a rant (or even an attempt to discuss) the pros and cons of development aid; what works, what doesn’t, how much of the cash given gets siphoned off in bribes, kickbacks and the cost of administration. I’m not even going to attempt to question the patronising attitude of the development agencies in the way they seem to mark being a subsistence farmer as the highest possible aspiration of someone who happens to have been born in South-Saharan Africa.

But what’s really got my goat (sorry) is that my someone else’s donation to charity has to be packaged up as a present to me!

I really, honestly wouldn’t have minded if they’d said – “Actually, Busyknitter – I’d rather we didnt exchange presents this year. I’m going to give the money I would have spent to Oxfam”

But no, in this materialistic, consumerist society presents must be given, even if you can’t think of anything that the other person actually wants or needs. And what can be better than to give a present with moral intent, one that will help the receiver become a better person, more aware of people less fortunate than herself.

Smug, sanctimonious claptrap!

Is never silent round her sultry bloom

(John Clare 1793 – 1864)

There’s more in my Photoblog