tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55057194707946582132024-03-05T22:33:37.254+00:00After All The World is a Beautiful Placethe little things are goodMrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.comBlogger335125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-41728187891370349242022-10-10T17:24:00.001+01:002022-10-10T17:24:38.990+01:00Now We Are... 44!<p> Dear Friend, </p><p style="text-align: center;">Hello? Are you still there? Do you remember when we...?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH91t0Nrq7BEWjI776-dtgIovcZZVKV7Mk9_9c4aIULMuXfxXxhA6QnxRhXcJf_h7xDc0dhO98fOLwjiURJ1knf-Tb5bEQH--wp-Be77BWYgZE5IC5vWPxMFMVvNMFOteOCFWly1Bw79gup6DsISmCnW3eRiAyjkqUEUcqf3dx8hQETZaqhIRakAjS/s2048/IMG_5284.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH91t0Nrq7BEWjI776-dtgIovcZZVKV7Mk9_9c4aIULMuXfxXxhA6QnxRhXcJf_h7xDc0dhO98fOLwjiURJ1knf-Tb5bEQH--wp-Be77BWYgZE5IC5vWPxMFMVvNMFOteOCFWly1Bw79gup6DsISmCnW3eRiAyjkqUEUcqf3dx8hQETZaqhIRakAjS/s320/IMG_5284.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Its been an age and a day! I'm not even sure what brings me back? I hear a little echo bouncing back and around my once busy blog world. If truth be told...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I feel a little lost. </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/AVvXsEhLZsXzXEX-fWnM4xKFq2lym-WQA2B0gLXmSogWLrL7oVeRvX8_fkJvhJg869AYUm1sTMCRmwIIsPAIR95czM4unUzgVsacpCN0SxhwRImtEJEX_QVsqOndsXY6zkVyphpr9_lB4cNd7QpU7TJCcXVtS8l10U19z3p3NVGge8oDRjxKGbQhSqvSjBbD/s3346/IMG_2622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3346" data-original-width="2530" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZsXzXEX-fWnM4xKFq2lym-WQA2B0gLXmSogWLrL7oVeRvX8_fkJvhJg869AYUm1sTMCRmwIIsPAIR95czM4unUzgVsacpCN0SxhwRImtEJEX_QVsqOndsXY6zkVyphpr9_lB4cNd7QpU7TJCcXVtS8l10U19z3p3NVGge8oDRjxKGbQhSqvSjBbD/s320/IMG_2622.JPG" width="242" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>When we have little ones we have such purpose. The routine is relentless, but it certainly is predictable. And that is both a bind and a surety. With each school year slipping by, like beads on that old abacus we found that day in the charity shop (along with that fabulous trolley of wooden blocks, remember?) I have become freer but more unanchored. <p></p><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Bed times are later than mine now. Bath times are shaves, showers and shellacs. Story time a thing of the fond past. Meal times, chummy but swift, are most definitely cleaner - no one needs me to cut up their sausages, or needs encouraging to eat their 'tangle-the-telly' pasta. And in one heart beat I am proud but heart sore. </p><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">An ever more independent nest - not empty, but often vacant - is an experience I was not prepared for. Who are we now they can drive or catch the train to neighbouring cities, with special someones in tow?</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">And I don't even have any answers to my own ramblings! Now, that's also new! When you are Mama (not Mum as you more frequently are now) you needed some pretty hefty answers. Now, analysis paralysis sets in. What do I want, where shall I go, should I do, say or plan X, Y and Z...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">So, I send this out into the void, dear friend. Perhaps you have felt this too? Are the answers just around the corner? </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">Let's talk again... "of shoes and ships and sealing wax. And cabbages and kings."</p><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/AVvXsEiH2bg3XX7O9H9x45vVBmaVbkxzR258sEv_28AFQN4JhkNvFUs0mxvYFkEeRLtnYTncTFg0g-aQLgISfLe373HXPFyu5XPpDoW8G9Ze8qWfCUl2Ibm12abTCw-lA2pHvZDn8DjEsFRRnxGVy2C-SGEXTmKrEX5M-S45KsaYlRfRZIfj023SJlYi6S1g/s640/flowers7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="426" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH2bg3XX7O9H9x45vVBmaVbkxzR258sEv_28AFQN4JhkNvFUs0mxvYFkEeRLtnYTncTFg0g-aQLgISfLe373HXPFyu5XPpDoW8G9Ze8qWfCUl2Ibm12abTCw-lA2pHvZDn8DjEsFRRnxGVy2C-SGEXTmKrEX5M-S45KsaYlRfRZIfj023SJlYi6S1g/s320/flowers7.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">x</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-63309965728567587402014-07-21T10:04:00.002+01:002014-07-21T10:14:17.262+01:00Fat Summer Strawberries<div style="text-align: center;">
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Let's pop on the kettle, flop on the grass and just wait for it to sing, shall we?</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRAKUIc2WHUHtq_JQqpOdW7qCukgKlbyPWr7gQ9f4oJTnjVg0IX7RLZB2JvmBjegd6n3YXy7EcWL-SLcbSpSKFGwXRJj-YHK49B05oAzdMcKFSaZGSW2h_YkMtRjFsQT2_qXbCTd2CQh8/s640/blogger-image--265667269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRAKUIc2WHUHtq_JQqpOdW7qCukgKlbyPWr7gQ9f4oJTnjVg0IX7RLZB2JvmBjegd6n3YXy7EcWL-SLcbSpSKFGwXRJj-YHK49B05oAzdMcKFSaZGSW2h_YkMtRjFsQT2_qXbCTd2CQh8/s640/blogger-image--265667269.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, what do you know - and I say this with only a smidgen of staggered surprise - British Summer 2014 has really been quite lovely ... so far! Hasn't it?</div>
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*she says crossing her fingers and swiftly rapping her knuckles against something lucky*</div>
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That is not to say, of course, that we have not had our rainy spells. Or those anxious stretches of days, which make folk begin to despair a little and think despondently that perhaps 'that week in April' really was all we were down for. Better luck next time, hey? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9SfIuiMNwORTZwbFceCc4qBsk45FXIYzpG3STJRKOGE7o8b1L0sxwIN5Nkf65LfhYUK2gdaoNOG7Cui0CoewFu6BeLAQECtwJ3rvu1fRgoLV9c21PBXQ_MqDM5eGmE10OHb5NsDKNSY/s640/blogger-image-1595165620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9SfIuiMNwORTZwbFceCc4qBsk45FXIYzpG3STJRKOGE7o8b1L0sxwIN5Nkf65LfhYUK2gdaoNOG7Cui0CoewFu6BeLAQECtwJ3rvu1fRgoLV9c21PBXQ_MqDM5eGmE10OHb5NsDKNSY/s640/blogger-image-1595165620.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">But then out the sun would pop again, shining its pretty rays down on this little temperate isle.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hjnsOvim1l9fbcDRIHyHP86we4ldwwp3aG3a1aWdKPYuIcLfmm76amYXIKk-6L1_l9kL2h3lDzYha9kd4_bsGisk04pr3xvFlmTNfeYCMdm7bbjld1FVspG-jUemGhEdmtMjso0YojI/s640/blogger-image-1159260247.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0hjnsOvim1l9fbcDRIHyHP86we4ldwwp3aG3a1aWdKPYuIcLfmm76amYXIKk-6L1_l9kL2h3lDzYha9kd4_bsGisk04pr3xvFlmTNfeYCMdm7bbjld1FVspG-jUemGhEdmtMjso0YojI/s640/blogger-image-1159260247.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">And this combination of 'good ole' British rain plus some fabulous sunshine, has not only made our hearts feel light, but it has also had the joyful affect of making our gardens and allotments bloom. </div>
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From scrubby bedraggled patches to Peter Rabbit places, where perhaps pumpkins wind their fairy-tale, Cinderella tendrils through the grass or wigwams of peas invite a spot of impromptu podding and popping into eager mouths.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzfaWYXVPfWCjmIGNFb97Z_wwVF250jy7lXpGj3H1PlxYOQkY9ixoA4290gUPr8D85g_kREDQBUCPmAw0RSRbHoYr9OMMZTwtuQEtXVYgiv_vVYVCiUFYEcJ7Hn-4iHhD5AWeU1gh8-I/s640/blogger-image-876340503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzfaWYXVPfWCjmIGNFb97Z_wwVF250jy7lXpGj3H1PlxYOQkY9ixoA4290gUPr8D85g_kREDQBUCPmAw0RSRbHoYr9OMMZTwtuQEtXVYgiv_vVYVCiUFYEcJ7Hn-4iHhD5AWeU1gh8-I/s640/blogger-image-876340503.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">But the cream of the Summer crop, for me, has to be the Strawberry. Glossy red, gleaming and totally jewel-like, in their protective beds of hay.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj2uap0FKV4zRxNX90Sc10ywYDa34N_h0RDsepaTaK63lDZOKWtGMSGYFe_PjV1J2CLMIVY4VJdTn8FOvH88krRHvbBsQbHbQ3hPDGFyvTPjw4uvNxxtge2rondN2St9ZQ6gLYfMv9Kg/s640/blogger-image--2053095624.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj2uap0FKV4zRxNX90Sc10ywYDa34N_h0RDsepaTaK63lDZOKWtGMSGYFe_PjV1J2CLMIVY4VJdTn8FOvH88krRHvbBsQbHbQ3hPDGFyvTPjw4uvNxxtge2rondN2St9ZQ6gLYfMv9Kg/s640/blogger-image--2053095624.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Cheekily, I would even dare to say, were you to grow nothing more than a little patch of these at the bottom of your garden or in a hanging basket over your back door or even in a window box, that moments of wholehearted H.a.P.p.Y-ness would be yours, come long Summer days.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyfKhrqCxvt9ESnPF58D08Y23tBk_Gdtz_UM7HKhOvmkha2lQ-Yetg029V7Ni5ZypdFaJzXjX7Lx1U5IqG7nFUR2y6K8sd1Rd-e5uWNEbPZN6JqyhbZRj7423k9aWAoDH_f9lBITk4W4/s640/blogger-image-2090557034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyfKhrqCxvt9ESnPF58D08Y23tBk_Gdtz_UM7HKhOvmkha2lQ-Yetg029V7Ni5ZypdFaJzXjX7Lx1U5IqG7nFUR2y6K8sd1Rd-e5uWNEbPZN6JqyhbZRj7423k9aWAoDH_f9lBITk4W4/s640/blogger-image-2090557034.jpg"></a></div></div>
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Bringing home perhaps the last of the allotments fruity bounty I ponder on 'tasty somethings'.</div>
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Sliced over my breakfast cereal perhaps? Or as the children do with a dollop of buttercup yellow Cornish ice cream? Will I make a pot of Summer-in-a-Kilner-Jar-Jam? Or super quick Strawberry Banana Ice Cream (just give me a nudge and I'll share ... hashtag generousme!). Then there's Homemade Fruit Roll Ups! Or maybe I should freeze them, only to bring them out on a misty November morn to plop into bowls of thick, cream swirled porridge and so keep little tummies warm and little hearts happy?</div>
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No I think, today is Friday. It is the Weekend Eve! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2R00vC_8th4166mcjMeHbD-5SL4-lRh8Bjgsf_FzHhS-TjbGXWjHB3eBqWrQD0GjhganUmTrT_TmuNfMRr2ZnZfYPTUWY_yevK6L9dOyCl068mIUAK7r9ArHzjpvuTK9kzrvlEGvzwk/s640/blogger-image-717839245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2R00vC_8th4166mcjMeHbD-5SL4-lRh8Bjgsf_FzHhS-TjbGXWjHB3eBqWrQD0GjhganUmTrT_TmuNfMRr2ZnZfYPTUWY_yevK6L9dOyCl068mIUAK7r9ArHzjpvuTK9kzrvlEGvzwk/s640/blogger-image-717839245.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And so I make <b>Prosecco Soaked Strawberries.</b> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And if that were not wickedly perfect enough, I covered them in chocolate too! </span></div></div>
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Prosecco Soaked Strawberries</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br></div>
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250g of fat strawberries or 1 Punnet</div>
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Bottle of Prosecco or Champagne</div>
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200g Bar of Dark Chocolate</div>
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A Splash of Double Cream </div>
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1. Wash the strawberries, leaving their greens attached, before finding yourself a good large Kilner Jar. Drop in each ruby berry, before gleefully popping open the bottle of fizz. </div>
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Its worth saying, your choice of bubbles is, of course, entirely dependent on how happy your piggy bank is feeling and I did even get to pondering whether a lovely Elderflower Presse would do the job beautifully, while having the added option of being alcohol free? Let me know?</div>
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3. Listening out for its happy, effervescent whish, pour in the Prosecco and then screw on the lid. Proudly sit in your fridge for 24 hours.</div>
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4. Taking the strawberries out of the jar and patting dry, it is 'Chefs' prerogative to tip the remaining strawberry infused Prosecco into a glass and enjoy. </div>
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5. Melt the chocolate - dark for me, milk for my friend - in a heat proof bowl over a pan of hot water before carefully swirling in the table spoon of cream.</div>
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6. Using the green tops swoop your bubbly happy strawberries in the chocolate and smugly place on a sheet of parchment or wax paper. </div>
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7. Let them set in the fridge for about an hour.</div>
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8. Bring out to rapturous interest and offers of undying friendship from all.</div>
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Love MrsBx</div>
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Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-14013249285548471912014-05-19T20:56:00.001+01:002014-05-19T20:59:29.802+01:00Keep Dreaming<div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wrote this so many years ago now. My lavender plugs grew, were blissful but now are getting straggly and need replaced... And finally the dream</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I planted that day is close to completion with the little blue shed going up this weekend. Small steps, inching forward. If you keep dreaming who knows what possibilities will blossom into reality? </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wander round and round, a garden full of bee song and lavender scents. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There are herbs, edible flowers and the possibility of beehives.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwnt9cKhXpxKHoVfyT_hR52Aj3L9wOQS8Ptd8GKnqV45SyTj5VU4N5-TBqj-zVqXUa5rDzbE8OVucbOy_HkJ_8y1J9tLoMsfAOz5JvMppIWptAT8D-ulMGbGMLa__n6t1A0Ac9rGZC9A/s1600/gardening4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwnt9cKhXpxKHoVfyT_hR52Aj3L9wOQS8Ptd8GKnqV45SyTj5VU4N5-TBqj-zVqXUa5rDzbE8OVucbOy_HkJ_8y1J9tLoMsfAOz5JvMppIWptAT8D-ulMGbGMLa__n6t1A0Ac9rGZC9A/s320/gardening4.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I dream of a few pots of honey, of lavender soap and rosemary cake, of thyme syrup to ease a sore throat... A rain washed, blue shed. An imagined double camping stove, with a singing blue enamel kettle. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Friends know the tin the cake is in.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH27oTA58xuLoZRv3sF9nWeZWMBwkPF_abAAPouSaLNc11Cby5Y9sv5r_OmSD1GH5fQUEeUyYMo6sLEpUZ18HKIJ7gSKFeWvkchqP3ZDGrrWC5TWXdrttvxDwZmaYEa9oVUsvI4WIgpkw/s1600/cake1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH27oTA58xuLoZRv3sF9nWeZWMBwkPF_abAAPouSaLNc11Cby5Y9sv5r_OmSD1GH5fQUEeUyYMo6sLEpUZ18HKIJ7gSKFeWvkchqP3ZDGrrWC5TWXdrttvxDwZmaYEa9oVUsvI4WIgpkw/s320/cake1.jpg" height="213" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am taking the first steps to this dream today, planting the seed... growing, nuturing the possibility of a dream life.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cZbxB00MvK8ehduzH_0Kkp-A-jj79WsJAmGFFTrGfO8eHYaZCefFeTeAI_zX-7FDIEnoD99AS1vq_e1HmQ5_YUUnck6agZ4LY9EVeMS7iZo5K2j8vQ1VDX5ktJtIppgffjDZwMWi0q0/s1600/gardening8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cZbxB00MvK8ehduzH_0Kkp-A-jj79WsJAmGFFTrGfO8eHYaZCefFeTeAI_zX-7FDIEnoD99AS1vq_e1HmQ5_YUUnck6agZ4LY9EVeMS7iZo5K2j8vQ1VDX5ktJtIppgffjDZwMWi0q0/s320/gardening8.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">What are you dreaming of?</span></div>
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Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-49309638584756386942014-05-11T19:05:00.000+01:002014-05-12T00:48:31.483+01:00The Tiniest Barn Raising<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Every allotment needs a shed. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></span></div></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhtjMoBJly6gpsw7KVv3GlVnJRsCgQN-5dKksSo2KOj1PG7Pz8IRt7Uyt8xIpZm8afZT9oNDrBthnEPFOTqKE8Y6oWcScggXegvUKRSwqiFkIjZhSr5EeWW3BDl6bHyhyroC794QD9A4/s640/blogger-image--723156924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhtjMoBJly6gpsw7KVv3GlVnJRsCgQN-5dKksSo2KOj1PG7Pz8IRt7Uyt8xIpZm8afZT9oNDrBthnEPFOTqKE8Y6oWcScggXegvUKRSwqiFkIjZhSr5EeWW3BDl6bHyhyroC794QD9A4/s640/blogger-image--723156924.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Somewhere to hang your hat. Somewhere to keep your welly boots. And vitally somewhere to make that well earned cuppa while gazing out over your little patch of proud greenness, as the warmth makes your nose glow.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tvgt8-i06NS2vx8LmnHyTzuU1vJukx7rFsTWSh6eQXekDNj5I-RZX7Fs9Bq9xQ4-UVtBdMjM3fM-0lmXQbVCbLUdt9L6hVmY8lW1M2EE-lHl_PUWpFyA2x-tqWb8a4e36PBQPb72Mgc/s640/blogger-image--500349375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tvgt8-i06NS2vx8LmnHyTzuU1vJukx7rFsTWSh6eQXekDNj5I-RZX7Fs9Bq9xQ4-UVtBdMjM3fM-0lmXQbVCbLUdt9L6hVmY8lW1M2EE-lHl_PUWpFyA2x-tqWb8a4e36PBQPb72Mgc/s640/blogger-image--500349375.jpg"></a></div>And so our city-dwellers version of a tiny barn raising was to begin. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvALeAM5EaYsL5Qywr7C-1lkypegtDPSYs0fUSocWHTkPrnf3e3EzQMtzVilMDgPwjWsjS7XQMpfodFQdJl5cnRenEEpnCYRTAySIuh8f3bn89JAeXZqo2Yk4UYNSSTEF-T0xpka_uaXI/s640/blogger-image--902853939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvALeAM5EaYsL5Qywr7C-1lkypegtDPSYs0fUSocWHTkPrnf3e3EzQMtzVilMDgPwjWsjS7XQMpfodFQdJl5cnRenEEpnCYRTAySIuh8f3bn89JAeXZqo2Yk4UYNSSTEF-T0xpka_uaXI/s640/blogger-image--902853939.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, barn raisings depend in great part upon team work, fine weather and good cheer. But most importantly, a steady supply of good food! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Os7qkH8ijxNJi6HZhq4fGIbI1bP6GyR2wDrFpytmZXFdhcjsV6h_dZk7BJhU18A6cBFWj1NADwuZk5rFwR08HMTAGd3Lg-SIeNbitA3PoLJheQfGr7_FuJdPEPnlVCw3evHtDZTfgyw/s640/blogger-image--1399439263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Os7qkH8ijxNJi6HZhq4fGIbI1bP6GyR2wDrFpytmZXFdhcjsV6h_dZk7BJhU18A6cBFWj1NADwuZk5rFwR08HMTAGd3Lg-SIeNbitA3PoLJheQfGr7_FuJdPEPnlVCw3evHtDZTfgyw/s640/blogger-image--1399439263.jpg"></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;">So Bank Holiday weekend dawns sunshiny and we head to Morrisons.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNwUt-XraGqJdmmtwUrh_8pzwJCveyB8zl1BnRK1hrTMzlozdxYlQV72RnZHPG4NSx80PXJ5N3LLH6L8cHMwyBKSj_C_niTURz-stLkKmcntOLNNcK6U1CF1DuG7uQNI-tDmK9-FHXec/s640/blogger-image--1412497461.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNwUt-XraGqJdmmtwUrh_8pzwJCveyB8zl1BnRK1hrTMzlozdxYlQV72RnZHPG4NSx80PXJ5N3LLH6L8cHMwyBKSj_C_niTURz-stLkKmcntOLNNcK6U1CF1DuG7uQNI-tDmK9-FHXec/s640/blogger-image--1412497461.jpg"></a></div>"Strawberries please!"</div><div style="text-align: center;">And...</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Blueberries, they're my favourite."</div><div style="text-align: center;">As</div><div style="text-align: center;">Happily, both go into the trolley. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4f2xh5TlI08RwOHc5s9Rrpnq2PpHvjJHGFt4pWAFwJTW7B8BcFhsPIgkPF4Q6VaknidiWjUC4oRzKIRwLTDkAfS3GnspzHG2pyj4kC1SAdsMAK5htWc5EXb6PJC02cOVdTyQZTL7ZQnM/s640/blogger-image--1964929197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4f2xh5TlI08RwOHc5s9Rrpnq2PpHvjJHGFt4pWAFwJTW7B8BcFhsPIgkPF4Q6VaknidiWjUC4oRzKIRwLTDkAfS3GnspzHG2pyj4kC1SAdsMAK5htWc5EXb6PJC02cOVdTyQZTL7ZQnM/s640/blogger-image--1964929197.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Vibrant displays of fresh greens, glossy amethyst purples and the sheen of pearlescent white - and savouring this gentle pace, we wander companionably together, pondering delicious pairings and fun menu possibilities...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2-K8Wmg19EwGtP5xPIiLpVeWAayUEb82lPbX0p0c6RaG9hDmzfw3jS2Tu7hu3JhMHnS4KB0YHPQ9rThRTX6hqzqxa4m-XwwytX8GuRxeun_7flrRQxOxhww05G3lvAErfnuf7CEMuGA/s640/blogger-image-641293325.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2-K8Wmg19EwGtP5xPIiLpVeWAayUEb82lPbX0p0c6RaG9hDmzfw3jS2Tu7hu3JhMHnS4KB0YHPQ9rThRTX6hqzqxa4m-XwwytX8GuRxeun_7flrRQxOxhww05G3lvAErfnuf7CEMuGA/s640/blogger-image-641293325.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWSIidRPE6RAowgPxnq3zRTfworYVcl4Nv4p3mvS_i8iwVNQMRzoeMk5KiMr7roj1ar28DmUvWpY2VvBoUZVFYiTXdedyY2v6_rYPEP19jsyP42iu37mjo8pJJ0CwM35_tK1xVXKd66E/s640/blogger-image--798797301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWSIidRPE6RAowgPxnq3zRTfworYVcl4Nv4p3mvS_i8iwVNQMRzoeMk5KiMr7roj1ar28DmUvWpY2VvBoUZVFYiTXdedyY2v6_rYPEP19jsyP42iu37mjo8pJJ0CwM35_tK1xVXKd66E/s640/blogger-image--798797301.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTsBcC48j3mgggPVSti8VF7s83K2zK1HQcck49y3DTwm3-17BcsOThAzH8ByaDvBcNlvoRnXKjn2NhwwLAD8wymVSljIlxO1mwQhxhSGNTSyXAezCVCn_6ez1PtukN00j3XOWbhNTrZ4/s640/blogger-image--1136874291.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtTsBcC48j3mgggPVSti8VF7s83K2zK1HQcck49y3DTwm3-17BcsOThAzH8ByaDvBcNlvoRnXKjn2NhwwLAD8wymVSljIlxO1mwQhxhSGNTSyXAezCVCn_6ez1PtukN00j3XOWbhNTrZ4/s640/blogger-image--1136874291.jpg"></a></div>We find fresh fish...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioh4S9Oscv7gvJpVyp1OEyKTNba44QwMRqYEABaKc7JEJXmr2J-GxlJRL_IIASf9btHMuiRX8rM6hZlmua7G7xhA4MVSqr7WhcvLAnPgmFEdeaT4BbFuTMnLgbjjHS6GAKvCt1rW3bqxw/s640/blogger-image-1546256012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioh4S9Oscv7gvJpVyp1OEyKTNba44QwMRqYEABaKc7JEJXmr2J-GxlJRL_IIASf9btHMuiRX8rM6hZlmua7G7xhA4MVSqr7WhcvLAnPgmFEdeaT4BbFuTMnLgbjjHS6GAKvCt1rW3bqxw/s640/blogger-image-1546256012.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">And a helpful fishmonger! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlWRNmc7j_Tz-xQqVS2kxwkeRbJwKT1_uiv6kjnvpb7chSjkGqg4V24RsURoot8yMpESRN7qcoSK5qW2l_EZ3qILV-u75VMzJYY-21i87LZ8dAe6JVqaFdiQrihFUUchS4N43xGQrw9n4/s640/blogger-image-1099497045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlWRNmc7j_Tz-xQqVS2kxwkeRbJwKT1_uiv6kjnvpb7chSjkGqg4V24RsURoot8yMpESRN7qcoSK5qW2l_EZ3qILV-u75VMzJYY-21i87LZ8dAe6JVqaFdiQrihFUUchS4N43xGQrw9n4/s640/blogger-image-1099497045.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">...we find perfect barn raising fodder to eat, during the sunshine filled rests, filling tummies, as instructions are read and re-read.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUm7ZRERIiS7coCQ3pVyEGupTDxSJXTUbzKbbtuCQhPaDMLfI-TG6vimHmWN6bWCCaRfgkh1hW1S39nMlT82bF3JJvuK8509mo0hSsOjyKM7MFm51yjeune78vZsQ9AUnNK4Ki3ZutmE/s640/blogger-image--38107205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaUm7ZRERIiS7coCQ3pVyEGupTDxSJXTUbzKbbtuCQhPaDMLfI-TG6vimHmWN6bWCCaRfgkh1hW1S39nMlT82bF3JJvuK8509mo0hSsOjyKM7MFm51yjeune78vZsQ9AUnNK4Ki3ZutmE/s640/blogger-image--38107205.jpg"></a></div></div>...the simple and most right food...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSnCaWeWJRBCRsRKnU4YBTMu9eAjz4UrRN4-y5jCvtpH6j1x_eItzJQXxpJSVgKUN1zmyXD6Dt-SWewJMpxbqPA5uEvnjtoMoGCPORmT_uqpQaW4VMmKKJquhB-DUpQN2HOfrr7ViB77w/s640/blogger-image--1326925309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSnCaWeWJRBCRsRKnU4YBTMu9eAjz4UrRN4-y5jCvtpH6j1x_eItzJQXxpJSVgKUN1zmyXD6Dt-SWewJMpxbqPA5uEvnjtoMoGCPORmT_uqpQaW4VMmKKJquhB-DUpQN2HOfrr7ViB77w/s640/blogger-image--1326925309.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">An incredible Cornish Pasty! (£1.70 for 2)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoIhrKC9GXJgVY06hTOCQOMgLFzlzRRoqvwDIvbrypt4WkZdEPDFRi9s5m2GLtHByW6I9G-p9nGYSA71MVrie-Ms4_NVV1pn0ngZ6kXYv1MUiUYD-xHkwjmQk05sWjyicM1tZXSKlSvg/s640/blogger-image--20247813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoIhrKC9GXJgVY06hTOCQOMgLFzlzRRoqvwDIvbrypt4WkZdEPDFRi9s5m2GLtHByW6I9G-p9nGYSA71MVrie-Ms4_NVV1pn0ngZ6kXYv1MUiUYD-xHkwjmQk05sWjyicM1tZXSKlSvg/s640/blogger-image--20247813.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOWBdEmNcbtdygbDJQG4DO4MPczPyScQNNDgGaCs7P5GTbYPonJjHpqqJ7p_f1SK1e-jNxsAViQ_k9Lmxq8nRUnuE8bFLluAezY2xZswZgCuGNlU_1bO0DLDemR8LvSjt7qyhpPRCWG8/s640/blogger-image--2087405418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOWBdEmNcbtdygbDJQG4DO4MPczPyScQNNDgGaCs7P5GTbYPonJjHpqqJ7p_f1SK1e-jNxsAViQ_k9Lmxq8nRUnuE8bFLluAezY2xZswZgCuGNlU_1bO0DLDemR8LvSjt7qyhpPRCWG8/s640/blogger-image--2087405418.jpg"></a></div></div>...and look what it fuelled!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimM3YaugB4teKx8Avxawgk0lmUlqVEMbVpJCCUUfOiRSkCb3qOcSRHYzATO35b4JjGzDU4doIIn-G6rWbsGNYkG0GJ5VB8uIz2Au-qG0ScH9rJkq9fwevxm33i8kF_BVOSyQ97SMmGBE4/s640/blogger-image-632986488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimM3YaugB4teKx8Avxawgk0lmUlqVEMbVpJCCUUfOiRSkCb3qOcSRHYzATO35b4JjGzDU4doIIn-G6rWbsGNYkG0GJ5VB8uIz2Au-qG0ScH9rJkq9fwevxm33i8kF_BVOSyQ97SMmGBE4/s640/blogger-image-632986488.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBmiH8E2SjE1f-cSbSK0GS0n_eydjvbFPTFvkMM9YO3OJO4IziTsJsrb0s4AT8Iqetb6uuEiWa8sp6Isdjy4N2mVBBmBah_Fthy8iPJDN9mL1zV62tBHoETGL3Y_vQksFN_Nhd7TcTBI/s640/blogger-image-1923181282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBmiH8E2SjE1f-cSbSK0GS0n_eydjvbFPTFvkMM9YO3OJO4IziTsJsrb0s4AT8Iqetb6uuEiWa8sp6Isdjy4N2mVBBmBah_Fthy8iPJDN9mL1zV62tBHoETGL3Y_vQksFN_Nhd7TcTBI/s640/blogger-image-1923181282.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8SHEHjO6rjM8w5LWILw_DgURdyGvWsmBik86c6CBuhdYHcIrVhofWvzyjxtnxumm02UNjttvi8bMiUT1x7_uE2531dD3M4NsQKxGYwbzXmVWma1yiR8ce1EgSJ67dPAjpN7qN1-Q0EU/s640/blogger-image--1862298224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt8SHEHjO6rjM8w5LWILw_DgURdyGvWsmBik86c6CBuhdYHcIrVhofWvzyjxtnxumm02UNjttvi8bMiUT1x7_uE2531dD3M4NsQKxGYwbzXmVWma1yiR8ce1EgSJ67dPAjpN7qN1-Q0EU/s640/blogger-image--1862298224.jpg"></a></div></div>...and to celebrate BBQ's of expertly prepared sardines (by our lovely Morrisons fishmonger) with heat blistered tomatoes on the vine (3 packs for £1.50) and the simple sweet nuttiness of New Jersey potatoes for only £1!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmh8Ze90jooLWbADdBN_HP9idsknok1CaGhQ9qe4v3VOvKsFlOV7q2O-QuXPCNNiocOJSVLTh4saGltl7G68aFLkEQqqipauqdKJJ7-zbRxUEGU0azGP6u3Eq0hz1k_bAGXV7A0FXOu0/s640/blogger-image-62224345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzmh8Ze90jooLWbADdBN_HP9idsknok1CaGhQ9qe4v3VOvKsFlOV7q2O-QuXPCNNiocOJSVLTh4saGltl7G68aFLkEQqqipauqdKJJ7-zbRxUEGU0azGP6u3Eq0hz1k_bAGXV7A0FXOu0/s640/blogger-image-62224345.jpg"></a><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Life's very best moments, flavours and delights are often not those that cost us dear. They are found amongst good company, in sharing fresh wholesome food and in those little triumphs we accomplish along our way.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LOlePaK7Gov-nCIInQRgP780ryzRfjfHRlIzs-hcPIj7SQPkfsjBRLf0bMH5wWXBlsMh-b_YP8T_dmOtxBp4BoPhbBvkqhmYfsInr6a3stj1ZrN61b8uhZ0Q0TOpIH0kM_CE16H9LhM/s640/blogger-image-326648226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9LOlePaK7Gov-nCIInQRgP780ryzRfjfHRlIzs-hcPIj7SQPkfsjBRLf0bMH5wWXBlsMh-b_YP8T_dmOtxBp4BoPhbBvkqhmYfsInr6a3stj1ZrN61b8uhZ0Q0TOpIH0kM_CE16H9LhM/s640/blogger-image-326648226.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">We would like to thank Morrisons for their help in making our tiny barn raising our tiny triumph! A delight to shop for, at excellent value and most crucially for us...simply delicious! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">#morrisonsmum</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-76331290137373596502014-05-02T20:33:00.001+01:002014-05-02T20:35:31.226+01:00Keep Dreaming<div style="text-align: start;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wrote this so many years ago now. My lavender plugs grew, were blissful but now are getting straggly and need replaced... And finally the dream</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I planted that day is close to completion with the little blue shed going up this weekend. Small steps, inching forward. If you keep dreaming who knows what possibilities will blossom into reality? </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Old post.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I wander round and round, a garden full of bee song and lavender scents. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4sxja8T88LANI3qWJlAeKd1sZkiR92ZNVInepm4W3BiDHaaUghQxDcTKlm-XEIaXdw9pdOv_GPTgD1RQvaEGM08M6mcrfVwgBYQdoW7yjZUBA_VJQiowC6aSCd7oK16J1vE4i_4p9iwg/s1600/gardening5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4sxja8T88LANI3qWJlAeKd1sZkiR92ZNVInepm4W3BiDHaaUghQxDcTKlm-XEIaXdw9pdOv_GPTgD1RQvaEGM08M6mcrfVwgBYQdoW7yjZUBA_VJQiowC6aSCd7oK16J1vE4i_4p9iwg/s320/gardening5.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">There are herbs, edible flowers and the possibility of beehives.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwnt9cKhXpxKHoVfyT_hR52Aj3L9wOQS8Ptd8GKnqV45SyTj5VU4N5-TBqj-zVqXUa5rDzbE8OVucbOy_HkJ_8y1J9tLoMsfAOz5JvMppIWptAT8D-ulMGbGMLa__n6t1A0Ac9rGZC9A/s1600/gardening4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYwnt9cKhXpxKHoVfyT_hR52Aj3L9wOQS8Ptd8GKnqV45SyTj5VU4N5-TBqj-zVqXUa5rDzbE8OVucbOy_HkJ_8y1J9tLoMsfAOz5JvMppIWptAT8D-ulMGbGMLa__n6t1A0Ac9rGZC9A/s320/gardening4.jpg" height="320" style="cursor: move;" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I dream of a few pots of honey, of lavender soap and rosemary cake, of thyme syrup to ease a sore throat... A rain washed, blue shed. An imagined double camping stove, with a singing blue enamel kettle. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHxpuaTSGkNV7UJvfViIk6TrpyAJE4wdyj-KEFc0-SjGKukVX69jotVYeqhN_gxEtT8d1NvgVL6ulDhyc7PUuPyov5-56iiwyhmtZCuJA7WJAr5NofAlARWwcTHKKgLz8V5R6exTExEA/s1600/gardening2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHxpuaTSGkNV7UJvfViIk6TrpyAJE4wdyj-KEFc0-SjGKukVX69jotVYeqhN_gxEtT8d1NvgVL6ulDhyc7PUuPyov5-56iiwyhmtZCuJA7WJAr5NofAlARWwcTHKKgLz8V5R6exTExEA/s320/gardening2.jpg" height="213" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Friends know the tin the cake is in.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH27oTA58xuLoZRv3sF9nWeZWMBwkPF_abAAPouSaLNc11Cby5Y9sv5r_OmSD1GH5fQUEeUyYMo6sLEpUZ18HKIJ7gSKFeWvkchqP3ZDGrrWC5TWXdrttvxDwZmaYEa9oVUsvI4WIgpkw/s1600/cake1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH27oTA58xuLoZRv3sF9nWeZWMBwkPF_abAAPouSaLNc11Cby5Y9sv5r_OmSD1GH5fQUEeUyYMo6sLEpUZ18HKIJ7gSKFeWvkchqP3ZDGrrWC5TWXdrttvxDwZmaYEa9oVUsvI4WIgpkw/s320/cake1.jpg" height="213" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I am taking the first steps to this dream today, planting the seed... growing, nuturing the possibility of a dream life.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cZbxB00MvK8ehduzH_0Kkp-A-jj79WsJAmGFFTrGfO8eHYaZCefFeTeAI_zX-7FDIEnoD99AS1vq_e1HmQ5_YUUnck6agZ4LY9EVeMS7iZo5K2j8vQ1VDX5ktJtIppgffjDZwMWi0q0/s1600/gardening8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cZbxB00MvK8ehduzH_0Kkp-A-jj79WsJAmGFFTrGfO8eHYaZCefFeTeAI_zX-7FDIEnoD99AS1vq_e1HmQ5_YUUnck6agZ4LY9EVeMS7iZo5K2j8vQ1VDX5ktJtIppgffjDZwMWi0q0/s320/gardening8.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">What are you dreaming of?</span></div>
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Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-11556020594751257882014-05-02T17:25:00.001+01:002014-05-02T20:38:48.131+01:00Space<h2>
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<li style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUEOf7d5Kc7DpJ6ZIoXO0bJYbV6HEdsoVomcge67Bc1yYrjG6iXJWMUP6Gd-pjQLjhGqmmKAk8FKr7hhlnqYfSyrca6we0kq1iUrL-uScvQ0mQIEi97tvST3Na-oXF9lzHmJXmRJ6-XrY/s640/blogger-image--1450196695.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUEOf7d5Kc7DpJ6ZIoXO0bJYbV6HEdsoVomcge67Bc1yYrjG6iXJWMUP6Gd-pjQLjhGqmmKAk8FKr7hhlnqYfSyrca6we0kq1iUrL-uScvQ0mQIEi97tvST3Na-oXF9lzHmJXmRJ6-XrY/s640/blogger-image--1450196695.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></li>
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<li style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We have our very own allotment...</span></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjog9Nlqa2VDTa_qXX_ED5Bly5oiu1YleVU6B_gTVL4fVaGqKN_qzIao1v8Yv7aFIukcXgjmmZcVnhpnULI1QdLxW7847YoeENhilpvlRSDZq42Uk6SygquoLj3BZRE07mT2oTEI9cqV4lr/s640/blogger-image-1708842074.jpg" width="483" /></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pH7ioiIWnrWj8HBr5bjULdGVvAG9cqkwooy0V60i2IV7bOgFPJzORXXoUBtySLtaPzp2Ai0RYWj4t-O2JNshUXQljfdRxwwobqwEeBKWhA9cXllBN6-DKid9ttMLC3esOlRORcwPhQPb/s640/blogger-image--921693903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pH7ioiIWnrWj8HBr5bjULdGVvAG9cqkwooy0V60i2IV7bOgFPJzORXXoUBtySLtaPzp2Ai0RYWj4t-O2JNshUXQljfdRxwwobqwEeBKWhA9cXllBN6-DKid9ttMLC3esOlRORcwPhQPb/s640/blogger-image--921693903.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">...hmmmmm?</span></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWH35jwlOxWTUxBjw1bwKjSVPZwSCS_NO5CPwFv2VsEKIbCnTjyJLihf7d7LK4nXLdroFPDVN421qU7k1j7IUOt9fsIec1_9j7W1nPSbXXvU9SLc3ZQkQtIlmb9Oa7e3SrWuRhuIvyybW/s640/blogger-image--830964110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWH35jwlOxWTUxBjw1bwKjSVPZwSCS_NO5CPwFv2VsEKIbCnTjyJLihf7d7LK4nXLdroFPDVN421qU7k1j7IUOt9fsIec1_9j7W1nPSbXXvU9SLc3ZQkQtIlmb9Oa7e3SrWuRhuIvyybW/s640/blogger-image--830964110.jpg" /></span></a></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">But with a little (very) hard graft later and we are starting to see progress...</span></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWspWjcIdeL9C4q3ASuDFBYt_UQHcPyrdEgzSjdZ2PyPCv_-wv4hRHRykYIf21mP-MsOAw72PE3KWrQG22IkJSNXf-l3KM1LFCVqUWEQ1ZLOw5KNQzJNBie3oDd2Ez70jBcjptcevrqat9/s640/blogger-image-283152242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWspWjcIdeL9C4q3ASuDFBYt_UQHcPyrdEgzSjdZ2PyPCv_-wv4hRHRykYIf21mP-MsOAw72PE3KWrQG22IkJSNXf-l3KM1LFCVqUWEQ1ZLOw5KNQzJNBie3oDd2Ez70jBcjptcevrqat9/s640/blogger-image-283152242.jpg" /></span></a></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I hope you will come along with me through this first year of ups and downs, ins and outs, bramble tangles and slug related tragedy! And plenty of cups of tea and slices of cake in the shed! X</span></li>
<li style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y42Er__gDA1peo6jAuuIea6mU7sBQYqdRwZelzZvF2UV1lhAnftpmBCERhDEWRjDLPgSsju0O94g6b51fIPO6WJMPxrfnqWzCjTc6KLYlAI_AowtSa58v1ri_nmwHgOFKxFVo4lWrZk7/s640/blogger-image--1923152545.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y42Er__gDA1peo6jAuuIea6mU7sBQYqdRwZelzZvF2UV1lhAnftpmBCERhDEWRjDLPgSsju0O94g6b51fIPO6WJMPxrfnqWzCjTc6KLYlAI_AowtSa58v1ri_nmwHgOFKxFVo4lWrZk7/s640/blogger-image--1923152545.jpg" /></span></a></li>
</ul>
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Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-3689733890081077692013-09-30T13:11:00.001+01:002013-09-30T13:11:54.006+01:00There is Broth on the Stove x<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/5775771917/" title="chicken soup for the chicken pox by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="chicken soup for the chicken pox" height="500" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5145/5775771917_8d8d6f7e23.jpg" width="380" /></a></div>
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In times of sorrow, when in need of comfort and familiarity, this is what we do.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Soup.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In our case it is broth, full of carrots and turnip, fat homey pearl barley and plenty of chicken-y broth to warm your tummy, who will remind your heart that is going to be ok.<br />
<br />
My Pop has died and all our hearts are not so sure, but chopping keeps hands working and the familiarity of a family recipe keeps a head from the shards of a sore heart.<br />
<br />
And when they come - carrying away their warm bowls and soft bread - I know, that pushing a spoon down, allowing only the mellow goldeness of fragrant, bright chicken broth to fill it while leaving the pile of plump grains and hunks of soup-softened veggies to savour last, it will for a short while remind us all that love lives on.<br />
<br />
Memories like the very best flavours are something to enjoy, to keep stashed away, to savour...<br />
<br />
Wool caps and tobacco tins, travel sweets and shepherds crooks, boats and tractors, sheep dogs and twenty pound notes, Wethers Originals and checked shirts, wendy houses and my first bike - a Raleigh BlueBird, stick men and funny cats, prickly kisses, agools and God Blesses...<br />
<br />
I wish, with total selfishness that we could all go on forever. But of course we cannot. Its tough to be one of the last to leave - its tiring. In the quieter times, I think perhaps its not impossible that we live on. Like a whisper of sea mist, or leaves caught in an eddy of wind, or perhaps in those fierce moments when memory trips us up and we suddenly remember, washed away by the strength of emotion, maybe it is then that they are there with us - popping in to check up, to see how we are and stay a while? <br />
<br />
So when it does, sit down with a cuppa and lets talk. Lets talk as I wish we could have done more. We fool ourselves that there is no time. But time is an illusion we tie ourselves up in, wrap around us to excuse us, blanket ourselves under to keep from vulnerability. There is always time.<br />
<br />
Keep those you love close. Trust with all your heart. Speak with all your truth.<br />
<br />
Love is what lets us all live on.<br />
<br />
x </div>
Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-69419643950269757942013-09-24T09:00:00.000+01:002013-09-24T09:00:05.133+01:00Birthday<div style="text-align: center;">
Nutella is a must.<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8019475849/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8171/8019475849_383dbbf214.jpg" width="375" /></a></div>
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Sunshine is frequently a given. Something to with hurricane cycles?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Much loved, happy souls about to share a morning cappu is a happy wish.<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/7216461012/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8163/7216461012_a9ba1c92ba.jpg" width="441" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Time with this wonderful specimen of HusMan is the very best gift.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/6501320957/" title="DSC_6863 by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="DSC_6863" height="500" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7165/6501320957_8f37e997fe.jpg" width="333" /></a></div>
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And these + balloons are the icing on my birthday cake!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8026245423/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8321/8026245423_e2e12d3ddb.jpg" width="375" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For I'm going to be 35 on Tuesday...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/7133430203/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="491" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7245/7133430203_ae14c92b23.jpg" width="491" /></a></div>
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Lovely stuff!</div>
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<br /></div>
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As Master B rather joyously, with a touch of mathematical smug pointed out...</div>
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<br /></div>
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"We can round you up to 40."</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/4473266555/" title="Un-Birthday Cupcake by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Un-Birthday Cupcake" height="500" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4051/4473266555_ffc1b9cf79.jpg" width="395" /></a></div>
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True Fact!</div>
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<br /></div>
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I love birthdays! </div>
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I'm looking forward to a thoroughly ponderous day - being grateful at where I am, giving a nod to where I have been and looking ahead to where I want to go - so, so long as The B's don't round up my candles too, I look forward to a sweet 35th birthday! <br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/4254408603/" title="Happy Birthday, MrsB by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Happy Birthday, MrsB" height="500" src="http://farm5.staticflickr.com/4052/4254408603_938f94ac4f.jpg" width="452" /></a><br />
Here's to another year lived, and with all things crossed another to come. </div>
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<br /></div>
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It's nice x</div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-89510837601107627552013-09-20T13:37:00.002+01:002014-01-16T11:41:09.953+00:00Settling In<div style="text-align: center;">
September</div>
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<br></div>
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Its my birthday month, so naturally I am biased, but it's a lovely month, isn't?</div>
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Settling in...</div>
<br>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We are not so different, not so removed. Who does not feel the draw of the natural? Hibernation? Not such a bad idea...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/9835671686/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="298" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7419/9835671686_5ac4429870.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
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My fingers twitch, the wool shop sings siren songs of soft yarn in autumn tones.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/9835651795/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3704/9835651795_60744cf158_b.jpg" width="300"></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/9835741543/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5441/9835741543_df7d97d8fd_b.jpg" width="298"></a></div>
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Tea seems the very best of drinks and in all this world there is nothing - nothing - as soothing as a dunked KitKat. You know it too, I feel certain.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/9835737423/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7335/9835737423_816e3ffd25_b.jpg" width="300"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dew drops sit on webby strands, spun between the now muted but still fragrant spikes of lavender and there are whispers amongst the scampering creatures that berries are quite the thing right now.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And so let's take it slow, hey? Feel that perhaps it is simply the way of things. Finish up summer projects, tidy up the garden, trim back the lavender and begin to dream of candle light and quiet times.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8520164849/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="640" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8522/8520164849_e3ddd8f48c.jpg" width="481"></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
x</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br></div>
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</div>
Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-71902112131295494542013-09-19T12:17:00.002+01:002013-09-19T12:17:08.421+01:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/9440792467/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="320" src="http://farm3.staticflickr.com/2884/9440792467_b7106a732d_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div>
Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-43065596182004397542013-08-02T21:35:00.000+01:002013-09-19T12:34:24.726+01:00Try not to try too hard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8520164305/" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875);" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="400" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8384/8520164305_a0a8183b46_n.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It wasn't empty words, mined from people's discomfort at pervasive - visible - sadness.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He was a great, great human being. Big hearted and considerate, full of concern for all he met, quick</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
to laugh and just as often, quick to bellow, embracing and utterly authentic.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And impossibly, it seemed that even on this day he had as much to teach us. There in the last of his goodbyes, this expansive, generous, gregarious man who many were proud to say rather incredulously and often incongruously to others "he was my biology teacher", shared his "Secrets to Life".</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
By singing - from that room beyond and unknown, whose door was firmly shut to us - James Taylor's the 'Secret of Life'. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://youtu.be/sW7Z1VttPKk">http://youtu.be/sW7Z1VttPKk</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
He sang at his own funeral. And the dark humour was lost on none of us. <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">That September funeral stays with me. A familiar church, memories of Christmas solos and readings, waves of nostalgia flood ceaseless over me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">I vowed there in that moment to try not to try too hard. It's all too fleeting and if we spend to long looking in we miss the wonder of out there.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">X</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);"><br /></span></div>
Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-71523552987810353252013-07-30T16:33:00.001+01:002013-07-30T16:33:23.920+01:00Tea<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/7413123258/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5332/7413123258_266bc6e65c.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/7413123258/">Tea</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/">Mrs:B</a>.</span></div><p></p>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-45383343973042921082013-05-13T10:07:00.001+01:002013-05-13T10:46:29.289+01:00Windy daysIt's blowing today. Fresh and forceful. The birds in between gusts are twittering like a playground of wind crazed children. I imagine them in the trees, their feathers blown straight up, not unlike their little flightless friends, who are tearing about a brutal gravelly tarmac surface, with their coats held aloft and taut between their arms, billowing full sails propelling their fearless forms with thrilling velocity...<div><br><div> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLzm9edMfugg2S6dn71X7PXTyV-JDt_LDAmdDlFu7t1YoDvQuBGcTcBlF1e3SLiQ0GyiAzbzBN7Bvs9Z58924V3D4ANM8xkeH7UTDyiyXXExfVruw63Twa8QcDLRLXmQGXGmh3A4UbT1w/s640/blogger-image-1575487236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; "><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLzm9edMfugg2S6dn71X7PXTyV-JDt_LDAmdDlFu7t1YoDvQuBGcTcBlF1e3SLiQ0GyiAzbzBN7Bvs9Z58924V3D4ANM8xkeH7UTDyiyXXExfVruw63Twa8QcDLRLXmQGXGmh3A4UbT1w/s640/blogger-image-1575487236.jpg"></a><br>
I smile.<br>
<br>
How long before first collision? Ah the visceral memory of playground grit meeting unprotected knee skin. I feel it, a muscle memory.<br>
<br>
The wind is bringing on its wings change, memories of days passed. There is a sad tinge of nostalgia in its sighs. But it also tells of change, transience, the impossibility of permanence. Life is forever shifting, sometimes with heart wrenching, brutal suddenness and sometimes with an inperceivable subtlety. Cycles of explosive life, the green fuse of the leaf bud and then with its tension of opposites, the fading and slow sleepiness of the end of days.<br>
<br>
I feel all this. We are in transition. We will all move to new places, roles, generations. Sadder. But wiser.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDnR4evZT9N7V7gXh8xSxSvOW5O9cUGXGuLU07omenekhQnYQ7b-wgpdXHv3XmWLDcCxN404bIIBQAattQUbp3ObT0uLMvjCmMIKtaZR8115qLPeezxt6vNZcX5FoUDNsp2u0QBQ6F7c/s640/blogger-image--1473069647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHDnR4evZT9N7V7gXh8xSxSvOW5O9cUGXGuLU07omenekhQnYQ7b-wgpdXHv3XmWLDcCxN404bIIBQAattQUbp3ObT0uLMvjCmMIKtaZR8115qLPeezxt6vNZcX5FoUDNsp2u0QBQ6F7c/s640/blogger-image--1473069647.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Life. Let the wind remind you. Like sand running through our toddlers' pudgy fingers, is to be marvelled at, played with but never caught in a tight grip.<br>
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It takes bravery to let go, but when we do there is release. Muscles soften, hearts unharden and we see simply the blessings we had all along. Now, now is what we have... wind and the high pitched chattering buzz of the playground, birds in swaying trees and a treasure chest of lovely times. We live forever in the hearts of those we loved. </div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">wiser.</span><div class="separator" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); clear: both; "> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pMbL8HVMdhH-FeOhtpTzAlZvkOt2AG3JKXy3yDZaZ6fNrzgBJrBzqmHO5mp_eRcnSZBBXjWq92_CpQqjI5tdD6g1n24jCfS7d_I1cACie_eQuPNr3blfHlWWZAQInHdUIwhGfq2z-e0/s640/blogger-image--1326678169.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; "><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_pMbL8HVMdhH-FeOhtpTzAlZvkOt2AG3JKXy3yDZaZ6fNrzgBJrBzqmHO5mp_eRcnSZBBXjWq92_CpQqjI5tdD6g1n24jCfS7d_I1cACie_eQuPNr3blfHlWWZAQInHdUIwhGfq2z-e0/s640/blogger-image--1326678169.jpg"></a></div>
It will be alright. The wind tells us so.<br>
<br>
X<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div></div></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-12278121675746004232013-05-08T21:21:00.001+01:002013-05-08T21:22:28.997+01:00ReturningReturning <div><br></div><div>To re-turn...make another turn...coming back on ourselves?</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; "><br></div></div><div>I like this thought.</div><div><br></div><div>I have made a pretty few turns this past year - turns, twists and sometimes tangles. I have lost. And I have gained. I have felt my griefs and sorrows in equal measure to my smiles and magic moments.</div><div><br></div><div>And it's ok.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm glad to be back here. Let's talk x<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjIE5aKk6xv1oxntv-lriGCiyHSdNjSHWbN51je6omumzU6yBimLUUjZ58r-Feorcd3vrBFC_8_9-d_SVnBNl0yLjhDK3KhERhZYdQoLUok42lRxkrjsVGpjG1xfFWGfrqBkYVtizlyQ/s640/blogger-image--122928996.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjIE5aKk6xv1oxntv-lriGCiyHSdNjSHWbN51je6omumzU6yBimLUUjZ58r-Feorcd3vrBFC_8_9-d_SVnBNl0yLjhDK3KhERhZYdQoLUok42lRxkrjsVGpjG1xfFWGfrqBkYVtizlyQ/s640/blogger-image--122928996.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-13800910189777147012012-11-15T11:31:00.001+00:002012-11-15T15:44:18.787+00:00Pencil, Pen and Paper<div style="text-align: center;">
Now as esthetically pleasing as the pencil is, atopped with the definitive pink eraser - and I place much faith and import on esthetics, I do - it is with the gel pen that my affections lie.</div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8188108656/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8338/8188108656_73e68fc130.jpg" width="463" /></a></div>
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Unsophisticated as it sounds, when placed in direct comparison with the historically elegant lines of it's cousin; the fountain pen, there is reason in my madness/ lack of taste. The gel pen is your friend. </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8187029341/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8478/8187029341_013711040b.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
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Fountain pen is a haughty entity, needing months of getting-to-know-yous, bonding and moulding to truly become your pal. And even then, after years of frienship, is it a bond that can be counted on? One built on utter trust? Not wishing to air my dirty *stationary* laundry, but there are painful memories of leaks, exploded catridges and angry blots in our past. They have been forgiven. But forgotten...? </div>
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/44929511@N05/8188110324/" title="Untitled by Mrs:B, on Flickr"><img alt="Untitled" height="500" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8207/8188110324_a61d661943.jpg" width="378" /></a></div>
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However with gel pen there is no scratchy, blunt, splotchy, pressing, pushing issues in our relationship. With a free, easycome, easygo, roll-with-it sort of attitude, that makes me feel all woolly and at ease. We click. I just know, in its company, the writing between us will be effortless and free flowing. The best coffee shop companion. This a buddy worth their £5.99 price tag.</div>
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And so although its all still fresh and new, I am happy. Its feels bold, confident; a match made in literary heaven. I have no trouble interpretating it's message... <br />
<br />
Oh pencil if only your whispered platitudes had been clearer. <br />
<br />
x</div>
Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-72920661256080890272012-10-12T19:13:00.001+01:002012-10-12T19:13:04.530+01:00If life hands you honey...<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnx_P6Ram0iisy-KDHGSDWWp4KEh8qb9S2PlSFiAGRZYDAwLDGE-A_zjbIpK8QVU4eTXBxHhQKTIJfS0lF9ES7iaQmKihVcZrCzg3T229Za-7R7Mr-flh5naXAOshY8gfpxDr8MmJ9SQ/s640/blogger-image-798139082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinnx_P6Ram0iisy-KDHGSDWWp4KEh8qb9S2PlSFiAGRZYDAwLDGE-A_zjbIpK8QVU4eTXBxHhQKTIJfS0lF9ES7iaQmKihVcZrCzg3T229Za-7R7Mr-flh5naXAOshY8gfpxDr8MmJ9SQ/s640/blogger-image-798139082.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIXHt3CrQhSnI7U0tMo7kCq62dsRQmsM12foO1oRJIJNEpj1yVpJKQlAaxUx2pnOV8I3DUq5-dzRoXQM3xO4pswqve2v_3fU6d35TzTX1Fu92iv9sdI3-2_4pkFA_CUDZw93YvhToC18/s640/blogger-image-983158619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcIXHt3CrQhSnI7U0tMo7kCq62dsRQmsM12foO1oRJIJNEpj1yVpJKQlAaxUx2pnOV8I3DUq5-dzRoXQM3xO4pswqve2v_3fU6d35TzTX1Fu92iv9sdI3-2_4pkFA_CUDZw93YvhToC18/s640/blogger-image-983158619.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ44FhQPA45jJcktMU-AAmOMDmN2Zr9-id4R5I2OVNJdpGXjkJPqjAGsGtLIgvH1g5A7Vza8gD0KcF4QlzKyhKl-uyELAVf2G65VwWmYm_Hf7IPo7uC9gD2DzDKcEPQG9f3hvxM-XMVA0/s640/blogger-image-1276597015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ44FhQPA45jJcktMU-AAmOMDmN2Zr9-id4R5I2OVNJdpGXjkJPqjAGsGtLIgvH1g5A7Vza8gD0KcF4QlzKyhKl-uyELAVf2G65VwWmYm_Hf7IPo7uC9gD2DzDKcEPQG9f3hvxM-XMVA0/s640/blogger-image-1276597015.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-36079454785231393662012-10-04T12:26:00.001+01:002012-10-04T13:14:44.032+01:00'Do as I say, not as I do!'Why, oh why, I wonder, is it so difficult to do what is best for ourselves?<br />
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We can do what's best for our children. We can do what's best for our family and good friends. We even manage to do what's best for total strangers! So, why not ourselves?<br />
<br />
We know, KNOW, all about five a days. Indeed many of us have it sussed. We know, that in actual fact it is a minimum of five and most of it should be veg. We know when to eat and how much, portions of tennis balls and decks of cards. We know about half an hour of activity five times a week. We know about plenty of shut eye and avoiding the bucket of wine of a night. Yes, we know about the antioxidant goodness of a couple of squares of dark, high cocoa chocolate. So, once again, why is it so easy to not 'know'. Why is it so simple to just stop doing what's best. For just ourselves?<br />
<br />
Every so often I stop doing what's best for myself. For this, this, my mortal coil. That which has been tasked with the the busy burden of enabling, transporting, making physical all my life's dreams, loves and ambitions. In fact, I go to my very best, high achieving, ruthlessly efficient efforts to stop doing what's best. <br />
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It is at this juncture that I throw what can only be described as an inward 'tantrum'. It is an undignified, face on the floor, beat your breast hissy. Only untraceable to the innocent by stander? 'Why? Why?' I demand furiously. 'Why do I feel like a bag o'sludge?' How dare you, I rage at my poor, beleaguered self! <br />
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In its oxygen starved, sugar intoxicated, sluggish defence it cries out 'I'm so tired. Don't make me run. It would break me. Give me that kitkat. What? Dark chocolate? Not over my dead body!'<br />
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Many cycles of this, have I been through. I couldn't go over, or under, I had go squelching through. I have been a healthy weight for four years. It was not always; sadly, miserably and esteem shatteringly, the case. And somehow, each time, like a tiny, whispered miracle, I tell myself to...<br />
<br />
"Shutup!"<br />
<br />
I get bored of my conscience, like a formidable, nagging, beige wearing headmistress, arms folded across an indomitable bosom, barking at me from the second I wake, to 'Get out! Get out! Exercise!". I get irrate with the predictable, repetitive tsk, tsk from my elder and better self. The sanctimonious raised eye brow. And it's the inevitable sigh as I cross over to the dark side, the fridge's threshold that drives me to distraction. I lose all patience with the angel being an spineless sap and while the devil swings crazy from my shoulder with a bag of wickedness!<br />
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And so, it is with utter gratitude to my bluebottle attention span, I make a gleeful swing back to bowls of porridge and a morning run. In essence I do as I've been told. For it would seem, I (she) knows whats best for me! <div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihvBsRK0b0-6vEG6N4hpRvh3SZSP-SPkaEOjJi18eC8aF6FnwGJPQD0AWQpedu9W8qSeC7Ijh3JqI2YfyEJG6oMKAZ9pXEcIvV3KrgziFA4mIR1pQdPvNSMhLKN0HZecp1iUALT5kQQs0/s640/blogger-image--891656757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihvBsRK0b0-6vEG6N4hpRvh3SZSP-SPkaEOjJi18eC8aF6FnwGJPQD0AWQpedu9W8qSeC7Ijh3JqI2YfyEJG6oMKAZ9pXEcIvV3KrgziFA4mIR1pQdPvNSMhLKN0HZecp1iUALT5kQQs0/s640/blogger-image--891656757.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSO1sCTe9Om1jzWvbPjqQAYS5k8eby9pxlme8TVn6M3fgBAPxovE3oP2lph9Cu9a2qCz3XR2LwaTWIWkt31XvAEozk20V9gZ-3GzhAHqe8zTyZjdSA51EGPyMxdJEaRSjVmeD5NfCACf0/s640/blogger-image-542572204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSO1sCTe9Om1jzWvbPjqQAYS5k8eby9pxlme8TVn6M3fgBAPxovE3oP2lph9Cu9a2qCz3XR2LwaTWIWkt31XvAEozk20V9gZ-3GzhAHqe8zTyZjdSA51EGPyMxdJEaRSjVmeD5NfCACf0/s640/blogger-image-542572204.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhKZt4ovu_Brux716ziNXH1Vj6Arr8ZbzU6eRf_Hu_RcwF2bMsj6daURg3pbA_OSwf3S0vikaJS6Zvzf5rX_UqJdxpxNActL51ErOZGqCTZivOjb_iRaAHLJFV9cTY0GnmtCzkAoRCZc/s640/blogger-image--1493697300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhKZt4ovu_Brux716ziNXH1Vj6Arr8ZbzU6eRf_Hu_RcwF2bMsj6daURg3pbA_OSwf3S0vikaJS6Zvzf5rX_UqJdxpxNActL51ErOZGqCTZivOjb_iRaAHLJFV9cTY0GnmtCzkAoRCZc/s640/blogger-image--1493697300.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-47219780934332086802012-09-26T14:20:00.001+01:002012-09-26T14:49:41.344+01:00A TaleEverything has a story. Even, it would seem, inanimate objects. A story within a story writer. <br />
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Shadow letters on the ribbon. <br />
<br />
Running my fingers along, peering closely, through squinted lids for possible letters, a familiar combination, perhaps a single startling word; clues of who and what and when. I yearn for a glimpse of a writer past.<br />
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It is a child's typewriter from the 50's and I smile as I unwind the long, dry ribbon (which smells faintly of comforting old books) for there in the middle is a long, wound about tangle. Pondering, I conjure up mother or father, a grandparent or a dear much- loved aunt, who half sighs half smiles, rolls their eyes and with a mock groan they free it once more for the eager type typer.<br />
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And once more and once more again I am reminded of the reasons we feel the draw of 'Vintage'. It is not, as a derisory comment once thrown my way, a load of smelly, old, secondhand tat. It is a reminding presence, an anchor point for a time not necessarily better but certainly instrumental and it tells us it's tale. We are not better, we are merely the step before. <br />
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Our Kindles and smart phones, our tablets and texting will make room for something new, newer, newest and the process will rush along in its unstoppable way, until one afternoon, a child will laugh and wonder why we ever held a lump of plastic and tech to our heads, passing on our news; departing and arrival times; our invites and announcements. <br />
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Watching the small folk, when we were gifted a round dial telephone, I marvel at all we have seen, in all but a blip of time line. The telephone of Tomorrow's World rests in my hand. My children try to locate the touch screen, hold the mouth piece to their ears and lose their place in a phone number, before starting the long dialling process once more. <br />
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I like the solidity of objects that worked with a machine-like clunk. I like an object that I can pull apart and with common sense and a screw driver, fix. I like an object whose usability is singular, elegantly simple and defining. I don't need my type writer to call my mother. I don't want my Singer to play Mack the Knife.<br />
<br />
Neither a Luddite nor a traditionalist; Technology and progression are necessary and wondrous. But I will defend and prize any object happy to be fearlessly what it is and be good at it!<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_VeARwBkFhT-etdd-IAQeGCwXhmZf8tEvXNlLW6tcPaHFTugX0g96z5O6iifleGAh5piXG0ogV2PoVjF5b2aCinimSVrzwm_WCpGgykNbHqPZ-ItzCTMrI7QRTgMu2MA6B1XJh7ZFys/s640/blogger-image-1542996448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_VeARwBkFhT-etdd-IAQeGCwXhmZf8tEvXNlLW6tcPaHFTugX0g96z5O6iifleGAh5piXG0ogV2PoVjF5b2aCinimSVrzwm_WCpGgykNbHqPZ-ItzCTMrI7QRTgMu2MA6B1XJh7ZFys/s640/blogger-image-1542996448.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4bR3ftZtfSF5nDTv7YYl1dCMCBFVGoAFgqTaJBaoHcive3ncvBjQtbmykIKKj1t6AsSDVTitaGy7utm8HN_78PfSpZiULas1jVHsJridkOhooqOfsgKY-2abcJyVxPd3I2I8o7eAZLA/s640/blogger-image--494317223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4bR3ftZtfSF5nDTv7YYl1dCMCBFVGoAFgqTaJBaoHcive3ncvBjQtbmykIKKj1t6AsSDVTitaGy7utm8HN_78PfSpZiULas1jVHsJridkOhooqOfsgKY-2abcJyVxPd3I2I8o7eAZLA/s640/blogger-image--494317223.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrv_J9sGLCNJSo0GKw5e6VpdNE0tNQemUSd-PzxViS626KPsJ28XJHwNh_vr-aP1dEocpfwBi8BUEhtZfD0j5WZOF8cVLs78u2BNaGEe9tNGmmPM4EnDH_uLPZglM_LTwgRrZMMvmDqg/s640/blogger-image-843114720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHrv_J9sGLCNJSo0GKw5e6VpdNE0tNQemUSd-PzxViS626KPsJ28XJHwNh_vr-aP1dEocpfwBi8BUEhtZfD0j5WZOF8cVLs78u2BNaGEe9tNGmmPM4EnDH_uLPZglM_LTwgRrZMMvmDqg/s640/blogger-image-843114720.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf6egYpdbJcBGGV7Z0xO6CLU3xzM2sjdZHtQV7IF0jyJSPiUpYM33pZQyivVjcEVu7yUAG_jRSWL32bHuC-f8B_Ph7G8FGHbQFRpw0viBnN7lcBs0ASMosHOOGJ9dCIy_VacEcSsK5oFM/s640/blogger-image-793216104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf6egYpdbJcBGGV7Z0xO6CLU3xzM2sjdZHtQV7IF0jyJSPiUpYM33pZQyivVjcEVu7yUAG_jRSWL32bHuC-f8B_Ph7G8FGHbQFRpw0viBnN7lcBs0ASMosHOOGJ9dCIy_VacEcSsK5oFM/s640/blogger-image-793216104.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8xkkQcbfE2z2zfXelTLLN195a7EbcSGXrmVrzxbFh9LSyRAdUX1qvrmZ1e01-xaAUmytON6b_t7aK3BVhCBks8PpbRa3HMnO894q8gwAy1cxXNowKOfbNnKyKtzFn7gH_8A8_CjCfr-0/s640/blogger-image--19703337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8xkkQcbfE2z2zfXelTLLN195a7EbcSGXrmVrzxbFh9LSyRAdUX1qvrmZ1e01-xaAUmytON6b_t7aK3BVhCBks8PpbRa3HMnO894q8gwAy1cxXNowKOfbNnKyKtzFn7gH_8A8_CjCfr-0/s640/blogger-image--19703337.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-42807066304171707382012-09-19T17:49:00.001+01:002012-09-20T16:14:01.601+01:00Taking Stock"Harvest is ended and summer is gone." quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily."<br />
<br />
Runner beans, a last perfect cucumber from the greenhouse, a tomato and two courgettes eagerly watched over for there was no glut here.<br />
<br />
A slow allotment year to begin. Late frosts and miserable temperatures that stubbornly refused to rise, soil so water logged that seeds simply rotted away and those that didn't were secreted away by tiny paws. Spinach alone required furrow browed, stubborn tenacity and multiple plantings only to eek out a miserly first crop. It was whispered that even Billy's carrots failed, despite his mystical defenses against the carrot fly's predacious wickedness! <br />
<br />
Fruit trees bore little or no fruit as our tiny winged pollinators were housebound for fear of the battering torrents. Discovery apples, a short seasoned delight, sadly were unsighted.<br />
<br />
But there were companionable lunches of oatcakes and peanut butter, bowls of warm fragrant strawberries, little piles of baby broad beans and a curly soft lettuce or two. Raised up to the memorable by a miniature bottle of olive olive oil carried here in a pocket, a sprinkling wrap of salt and pepper and a scatter of hand picked flat leaf parsley. Sometimes to be had on the patch of contentious-snail-friendly-wasted-use but to my mind luxurious and verdant grass. Sometimes in the cosy south facing warmth of the shed, listening to the seemingly omnipotent rain.<br />
<br />
A new year marked out and finished. Beginnings, endings, starts and finishes; sprouts, seedlings and pottings on; harvests and double digging. Manure.<br />
<br />
Over a cup of tea we muse. The autumn on an allotment, the close of another growing year is comforting in so much as its not the end. It is simply prep, fate being generous, for another year. With our beds dug and turned over, like flipping the mattress, plans and dreams can begin. Sitting in my ancient, horse hair stuffed, arthritically creaking but enveloping armchair, poring over Herb and Vegetable Expert with a cup of tea is a sweet waste of time. <br />
<br />
I note 'plant what you want to eat, NOT what you can grow'. For truly, there are only so many radishes a girl can eat. And 'Beetroot. What happened? Why didn't it grow?' Hastily followed by 'PIck the runner beans before they bulge' for they taste best before they resemble those in the supermarket. Who knew...? Not me.<br />
<br />
Next year: <br />
<br />
Little gems<br />
Moroccan mint (for summer teas)<br />
Endive<br />
Beetroot (again)<br />
A few radishes<br />
Butternut Squash<br />
Peas<br />
Leeks<br />
Potatoes (new and main crop)<br />
<br />
....sigh. It's the possibilities that make life so rich, don't you think? <br />
<br />
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<br />
The squirrel, high above me, sharply visible in this clear slanting light, has heard them too. He is cheerily stuffing his furry belly, with tiny fistfuls of crimson berries.<br />
<br />
And dropping the pips down on to my head. I think he's having a squirrelly chuckle to himself, at my expense.<br />
<br />
Trees are trying out new colour, leaf by leaf. The maple in the garden is the first to go, year after each full year. It reminds me that, regardless, the world keeps to its schedule. A timetable of ebbs and flow.<br />
<br />
And here stand I. Solitary, singular, a quiet watcher. Each trainer-clad morning a snap shot. Polaroid like, the day, the season's features seep into sight. The slight, goosebump raising, dewy chill. The lengthening of morning rays. I hear the rumours too.<br />
<br />
Fingers stained purple, I sit with a hot cup of coffee. I smile at the mental picture of Mr B, brows knitted, determined and perhaps a touch crazed, grinding coffee beans with my soup blender. Happy am I in this moment. <br />
<br />
I ponder why no one picks the blackberries that hang high in the ginnel behind the house. Blackberries as you have never seen, not in real life. Not outside of a clinical, cellophane wrapped supermarket packet of suspiciously gargantuan mega berries. But berries that bring to mind classic scenes from tales of wandering adventures and relished picnics, small cotton tailed characters, vegetable gardens and miniature lost shoes. By mid August they have soaked up the best of the summers south facing rays. At this point they are huge! And sweet! Sweet with a kick of spice, that has no words for its uniqueness. Before these berries, the ubiquitous ton of sugar would have been dumped atop and indeed jam making would have been the culinary path most followed with 'wild' blackberries... Shop bought for virgin eating! But these, these I gather and store away in the freezer, precious box after box. Stockpiling their fat juicy joy away for winter porridge, custardy crumbles and to bejewel perfect, vanilla crema filled tartlets.<br />
<br />
As I amble below these brambles now the berries are noticeably smaller, still sweet but less beautifully pristine. These will be my pots of jam!<br />
<br />
And so, why? Why are they not picked by the gardener who's soil the source is grounded in? Why are they left to go mouldy by the tendril full? Free, seasonal food. The best of food. I'm sure the birds tell tales of them, as I do.<br />
<br />
And So perhaps the rumours are true. Maybe. But as you know, I would never uphold gossip....x<br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_RhZrjBbhZV6NBxIZX_Z_FFWEtjo4Y42Cvh-VoGu-HrBjXuMW76x-aeZF4GRo6uoDCGuqj8I-bRVbr8ScY2K_RctLqTxeCrlY9sPInArsrAGQuIWZQHJ7jV52hDn5aoDRdQ0BHYVbWY/s640/blogger-image--201862201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_RhZrjBbhZV6NBxIZX_Z_FFWEtjo4Y42Cvh-VoGu-HrBjXuMW76x-aeZF4GRo6uoDCGuqj8I-bRVbr8ScY2K_RctLqTxeCrlY9sPInArsrAGQuIWZQHJ7jV52hDn5aoDRdQ0BHYVbWY/s640/blogger-image--201862201.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0LUQ1t8Qhgx-3jwpL7ZIMy27InzXP49SR54E1ehbnLY0xPE_OJOgqv51-S5XYWI6zzFlP8wP0EWNOGVxKDdjIYrNEmoMQhYaA4-lhRVLabzkPkTuJ2I_Ltd5Uy5cVobd66FytnmqOeU/s640/blogger-image-123748389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0LUQ1t8Qhgx-3jwpL7ZIMy27InzXP49SR54E1ehbnLY0xPE_OJOgqv51-S5XYWI6zzFlP8wP0EWNOGVxKDdjIYrNEmoMQhYaA4-lhRVLabzkPkTuJ2I_Ltd5Uy5cVobd66FytnmqOeU/s640/blogger-image-123748389.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpZrLbmelFJZDDtp3nclWYqVYvpklZRei4WvVnDPcJAPCuirAdmkIpSFjU4rQVmMcnhyK0pPBRBzx4SAzmXHKYtXp4AR_7AVRx8F0POTLmnCFCDKySqunpLacRCwIrgMcPCy8JHQnCeQ/s640/blogger-image-1630182416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpZrLbmelFJZDDtp3nclWYqVYvpklZRei4WvVnDPcJAPCuirAdmkIpSFjU4rQVmMcnhyK0pPBRBzx4SAzmXHKYtXp4AR_7AVRx8F0POTLmnCFCDKySqunpLacRCwIrgMcPCy8JHQnCeQ/s640/blogger-image-1630182416.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-65013800339958150192012-07-31T14:59:00.001+01:002012-07-31T15:03:24.428+01:00Humility"Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind."<br />
<br />
Albert Einstein <br />
<br />
Oh and a pretty cake too! Because sometimes, just sometimes, it's the closest thing to heaven in our day! X<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFQ4mvxQEoP8_T2oCfvTn_U6rJsxC7mMS5_iAwcCgm-0tjhhYGfY-U6iGYWuFhs5JxfMXHl0QWH6KkgG2kbwsDKkpKAMKM6i2bmRJhd2wdrpeawdHYx4StELeB6XctX94-rPuehdMqrzQ/s640/blogger-image--112273644.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFQ4mvxQEoP8_T2oCfvTn_U6rJsxC7mMS5_iAwcCgm-0tjhhYGfY-U6iGYWuFhs5JxfMXHl0QWH6KkgG2kbwsDKkpKAMKM6i2bmRJhd2wdrpeawdHYx4StELeB6XctX94-rPuehdMqrzQ/s640/blogger-image--112273644.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-9960325493237690922012-07-18T11:02:00.001+01:002012-07-18T11:06:15.931+01:00Organised...? Moi?I have a confession...<br />
<br />
My name is Mrs B and I am a Divider Unbeliever! An Organisational Pagan! A self proclaimed Alphabetising Infidel!<br />
<br />
I must fess up to quietly and not so inconspicuously chortling at folk with neat Tupperware. <br />
<br />
Conversely I have always been utterly admiring, awe struck and yes, envious of this ordered life of startling clarity. <br />
<br />
A place for everything. Everything in its place.<br />
<br />
And so it was indeed an epiphany bordering on the epic when I realised with a lightening jolt of obviousness that most things in my life; home, school run...where ARE the house keys, dreams, Pinterest account would be more productive, more attainable and less exhausting if I embraced the concept of An Organised Life. <br />
<br />
Land of the Obsessional, Home to the Rigid or Freeeeeeeedom?<br />
<br />
If your hall isn't clogged with shoes for all seasons, if the bikes, coats, bags and locks are back in their place then the front door is open (and reachable) to adventure first thing in the morning. Not after a groundhog hour of tidying up STUFF beforehand!<br />
<br />
So, tentatively I am dipping my toe into this strange and seemingly threatening land. I am shelving my spontaneous- fly by the seat of my pants- life's too short to compartmentalise the junk drawer concept of me (neatly under G for Growth) and going to look, just look mind, at drawer dividers! <br />
<br />
Mr B and I have created a shared calendar and I have a Months/Week/ Day To Do List, cascading hierarchically with stars for priorities...<br />
<br />
*chuckles at ones new lingo*<br />
<br />
Is this the start of a whole new experience? Or merely the influence of of Mercury in Retrograde! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQAiFe6iCQYMa234EipZilf_D1P_z1Vo5GTzEAh84Yne3tc2TnxPp1_QMcw4adEEtzoKJnsFzPueocLhNQBsaqEdwt5toTYs6Oj3Mcf0Jcwj6wN2MJrLWQJF1-RUklBQQRJdySkD9HWs/s640/blogger-image--509229148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQAiFe6iCQYMa234EipZilf_D1P_z1Vo5GTzEAh84Yne3tc2TnxPp1_QMcw4adEEtzoKJnsFzPueocLhNQBsaqEdwt5toTYs6Oj3Mcf0Jcwj6wN2MJrLWQJF1-RUklBQQRJdySkD9HWs/s640/blogger-image--509229148.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-65743801986458244572012-07-07T19:02:00.001+01:002012-07-07T19:03:54.923+01:00Now“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave?..."<br />
<br />
— Kathleen Kelly, You’ve Got Mail (1998)<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqtGDmjUwu_n5KAyUhF8uBCC8sqTyzLmGZ4Pyn2U4_UlxzsqWnQ-5mgOL8_yzvyJPuoeebd8MgdpxyEqyj6FU6G5Wr6q9lWkUKKfnc6u3np4ofrOOhzVHTTJX0BzbgHpMicoI1mkgrWc/s640/blogger-image--629886894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijqtGDmjUwu_n5KAyUhF8uBCC8sqTyzLmGZ4Pyn2U4_UlxzsqWnQ-5mgOL8_yzvyJPuoeebd8MgdpxyEqyj6FU6G5Wr6q9lWkUKKfnc6u3np4ofrOOhzVHTTJX0BzbgHpMicoI1mkgrWc/s640/blogger-image--629886894.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGc_X1_si9GuaZojaoNJ3J0PiE-JuQ2Fi0n_gDsBmEY8uC9AftXdBsmCeZwg6BqyKjia5xyu7XraezXOtpTQgHxQjAi3uLHc0fAIQjKtmuRmQSFbRFkCY06LfmbceDznYaBRxpJCnlebI/s640/blogger-image-1343927374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGc_X1_si9GuaZojaoNJ3J0PiE-JuQ2Fi0n_gDsBmEY8uC9AftXdBsmCeZwg6BqyKjia5xyu7XraezXOtpTQgHxQjAi3uLHc0fAIQjKtmuRmQSFbRFkCY06LfmbceDznYaBRxpJCnlebI/s640/blogger-image-1343927374.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTC0bC758wynfQc38LBVse326bmjElpLM3dQz9quFIJcetv03kuACvdTxoRbMOvJKzwc45IGSliiGUCoTk1XqbQKWrqTmQqcBkcwO6G6yAy-KDitloq0SUTHc1n8tYHsqhsMNuCl90tXQ/s640/blogger-image--1529330194.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTC0bC758wynfQc38LBVse326bmjElpLM3dQz9quFIJcetv03kuACvdTxoRbMOvJKzwc45IGSliiGUCoTk1XqbQKWrqTmQqcBkcwO6G6yAy-KDitloq0SUTHc1n8tYHsqhsMNuCl90tXQ/s640/blogger-image--1529330194.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-67631205673037789142012-07-02T13:02:00.001+01:002012-07-02T13:02:30.387+01:00Home Grown<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzLJOQ0Qeq8Q3H5PBZ2MUaAdq8fG4Bw3XlSegURaCIOINZiVfB34czZ5qYyMBtDApMhLX8IGxJ9nCcgj0lKDQHdPf_3cj1zslJq3gqHHoqP22KIqB8XMARNBGRJHdx9Vj5TtFWZZWrck/s640/blogger-image-327809404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAzLJOQ0Qeq8Q3H5PBZ2MUaAdq8fG4Bw3XlSegURaCIOINZiVfB34czZ5qYyMBtDApMhLX8IGxJ9nCcgj0lKDQHdPf_3cj1zslJq3gqHHoqP22KIqB8XMARNBGRJHdx9Vj5TtFWZZWrck/s640/blogger-image-327809404.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5505719470794658213.post-37525749959429329752012-07-02T12:52:00.001+01:002012-07-02T12:54:19.197+01:00Off To The Allotment...<br />
Radishes, lettuce and a bowl of fresh warm strawberries! These summer lunches make it all worth while.<br />
<br />
Im already pondering Autumn possibilities? Beetroot? Swede? Perhaps some dark green, viscerally healthy kale...?<br />
<br />
It's quiet and rich and grounding.<br />
<br />
I'm so grateful.<br />
<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Akwi3cppyxuQqt1FJ77QPEf173wRL8jsUOFVyJCOwylk3vNxDSFS63SXdfZE1OgFNBOZwpoQXlabepjYc0GGhzZpVbpOQVYzmBB-UqUlIDoc-BxW62cgpE-v-JHk0PGRB1KcbEnqBGY/s640/blogger-image--633700110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0Akwi3cppyxuQqt1FJ77QPEf173wRL8jsUOFVyJCOwylk3vNxDSFS63SXdfZE1OgFNBOZwpoQXlabepjYc0GGhzZpVbpOQVYzmBB-UqUlIDoc-BxW62cgpE-v-JHk0PGRB1KcbEnqBGY/s640/blogger-image--633700110.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhmVQplO60R_HdXNRMmt1jfCoL2noy86uiG7dIgZybeQLSPGbXfHJsFGySBsrMHNUHrNEHAHKzsMsC09hIN99EV0kP5HQEXxE6MdCtB_mZY-VTuWJ4lQoU4mB8wUoxFXLR3Afa1FdIAs/s640/blogger-image--1272509987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnhmVQplO60R_HdXNRMmt1jfCoL2noy86uiG7dIgZybeQLSPGbXfHJsFGySBsrMHNUHrNEHAHKzsMsC09hIN99EV0kP5HQEXxE6MdCtB_mZY-VTuWJ4lQoU4mB8wUoxFXLR3Afa1FdIAs/s640/blogger-image--1272509987.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5hbzJxf-fe6YwVK5zL1Tx9FDsgX9lKnm_IAwEvbKKE1a1L9l5Nwi1yYSK77cL9b4Ym2NQ60nI2dRF-hYk9c3FWe3OVRcPTTfox-610zwTvQrGfWHU9oI40q70RPMdQDoH5VjvCEomik/s640/blogger-image-1588403115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5hbzJxf-fe6YwVK5zL1Tx9FDsgX9lKnm_IAwEvbKKE1a1L9l5Nwi1yYSK77cL9b4Ym2NQ60nI2dRF-hYk9c3FWe3OVRcPTTfox-610zwTvQrGfWHU9oI40q70RPMdQDoH5VjvCEomik/s640/blogger-image-1588403115.jpg" /></a></div>Mrs Bhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10094606826283540595noreply@blogger.com0