Level 2 Chi Kung.

A busy, and very Christmassy day. Saturday started with guitar and I was very pleased I had remembered to take Mr Baulch a gift, as there were four lined up on the window sill from the four students before us! A couple of months ago the pound shop had pretty biscuit tins so I bought the whole stock (about a dozen) and am gradually filling them with baking to be given to all the various people who require small gifts at this time of year. Apart from the school teachers, who will, as usual, be given alcohol. After years of trying more inventive presents, alcohol is the only thing that has ever been well-received, or even acknowledged! So Mr Baulch got a tin of homemade shortbread and looked very pleased indeed. While we were in the neighbourhood, I took Katie and Dash to the Christmas Fair – the latest incarnation of the piece of waste ground which, under the inspired guidance of Sydney Thornberry, became Blackheath Beach over the summer. In one sense, there wasn’t that much there: plenty of hay for the children to play in, sit on, and throw at each other; and old boat to scramble over, lots of fake ice, a stall selling tea, coffee, hot chocolate and homemade cakes… But half the village was there, all very much in the Christmas spirit, and the kids were having a blast. And of course Sydney herself was on the gate, handing out the spring course guides. I’m sure I’m not the only mummy to leave the kids playing in the hay and go straight back inside to book up course places for the children. After that, I took the children to lunch at Chapter’s – Dash loves their grilled chicken and I take him as a monthly treat. I was still feeling a bit seedy and not really hungry but, even though we are regulars and they treat us like old friends, I knew I couldn’t take up a table on one of the busiest days of the year and only order one children’s meal, a bottle of sparkling water and a side of mashed potato (Katie used to order their bangers and mash but she eventually confessed that she didn’t actually like the sausages and asked if she could order just the mash). I decided to go for grown-up bangers and mash with pickled red cabbage – a good choice for comfort food. Next up was the fair at Blackheath High (where Katie does Stagecoach) and then home for a brief rest before heading back to the village for the lantern parade. Just as we escaped the kettling, we ran into Arina and her parents. We had been meant to meet them at the start of the parade and walk together, but hadn’t been able to find them. They explained that they had been ‘a few minutes’ late, but I suspect that this statement re-defines ‘a few’ to ‘around 15’. It wasn’t a problem – we weren’t exactly expecting them to be on time. They are pretty much always late for school – in spite of living, it turns out, about 200m from the school gate. Once, when Katie and I were running late for school, Katie was speculating as to whether we would just squeak in before registration or whether we would need a late note. Then we saw Arina’s mummy heading in the other direction, having already dropped Arina off. ‘Oh well’, said Katie resignedly, ‘if we’re later than Arena, then we DEFINITELY need a late note.’.

I wondered if it might be a Russian thing, and found the following on a business etiquette site:

‘As a foreigner, you are expected to be on time to all business appointments. However, your Russian counterpart may be late, as this may be a test of your patience. Do not expect an apology from a late Russian, and do not demonstrate any kind of attitude if your business appointments begin one or two hours late. This may also be a test of your patience.

Social events are more relaxed. It is acceptable for foreigners to be 15 to 30 minutes late.

Patience is an extremely important virtue among Russians; punctuality is not.’

We chatted as we waited for the lights to be switched on, then we said goodbye and I asked MY kids if they wanted to go straight home or go for hot chocolate first. At which point Arina seized her chance and said definitely hot chocolate but in a takeaway cup so that they could drink it on the way to the heath to go on some ride that had been set up there. We got the drinks and wandered up to the heath, where the ride turned out to be one of those spinning tea cup scenarios. As the children had opted for hot chocolate with cream AND marshmallows, and Katie is a bit of a vomiter, I stepped discreetly back out of range as the spinning started, but there was no need – they all had a wonderful time and no one threw up. When they got off the ride they were in high spirits and clearly in no mood to go home. Instead they started running really fast, chasing each other around the heath. There’s no lighting on the heath, so once they went out of range of the street lights round the edge, we could only detect them by the occasional glints off the reflective tape on Katie’s jacket… and the wild laughter. It was lovely to watch the sheer exuberance: of being 7, and full of hot chocolate, and finally off the parental leash, running free with the friendly spirits of the dark.

In the lantern parade in the village this evening with Kate and Dash, we found ourselves near the front of the parade at the point whether the crowd reached a fork in the road and had to be compacted into one of the forks (the other being open to traffic). So there we were, trapped between a small brass band and some mounted police in front, and a jolly but inexorably advancing crowd behind. I turned to the lady behind me and said “It feels rather like being kettled.” To which she replied, nostalgically, ‘Oh, it’s years since I’ve been kettled. But I remember what I was chanting when it happened: “Kill, kill, kill…”‘. I hope my face didn’t show my mounting horror at this point, because she went on to explain “Kill, kill, kill the bill”, against the criminal justice bill’. Phew, that’s all right then! She then went on to tell me that, growing up, she was so proud of her cool aunty who got arrested at Greenham Common. Very sweet.

Level 2 Chi Kung.

Before Jack was born, when we first started thinking about trying for a baby, we followed the advice in some book, to buy a digital thermometer and take my temperature each day, so that we could see (from the slight spike in temperature) when in the month I typically ovulated. In solidarity, Nick took his own temperature as well, and we thereby discovered that he runs on average half a degree above ‘normal’ while I run at least half a degree below normal (so in Twilight terms, he’s Jacob to my Edward, except I’m a girl). This makes him an ideal sleeping companion in the winter months and, over the years, he has become stoical about me treating him like a man-sized hot water bottle (with benefits). A couple of weeks ago however, I identified that this was part of the problem with my ongoing sleep deprivation: Nick is a night owl but there is no point in me going to bed before him, as I just lie there shivering. I hit upon the idea of buying an electric blanket, and following extensive perusing of reviews, chose one from John Lewis. It arrived earlier this week and worked so well that I immediately renamed it ‘the electric husband’.

Level 2 Chi Kung.

The pikkujoulo went well. The tortilla was a big hit and the champagne slammers (made with my own cherries – steeped in brandy for the last 6 months) and mulled wine, were also well received. The new marshmallow recipe I tried didn’t go exactly to plan (tasted good but a bit too chewy) but people ate them anyway. I did have a slight wobble when I realised that I was about to serve blini to an actual Russian. When she asked admiringly how on earth I managed to get them all the same size -and I told her it’s easy when you buy them from M&S – I was reminded of Ann Eade‘s famous recipe for brandy snaps!

While I entertained the mummies, the children ran up and down the stairs, squealing in excitement and generally having a great time. After about an hour of this, Katie brought them all out to the kitchen to raid the freezer for ice creams. I was happy with this and so were most of the mummies but Lena said that Arina couldn’t have one as she has been complaining of a sore throat. Estelle and I both said we thought ice cream would be nice and soothing for a sore throat but Lena wouldn’t be swayed and explained that Russians believe that cold foods are very bad for sore throats and coughs. The children went away – Arina looking a bit disconsolate, the rest munching on their ice creams. A few minutes later, when the mummies’ chatting was once again in full swing, Sophie (the sweet and reserved older sister of Clara) drifted into the kitchen as light and quiet as thistledown, opened the freezer and calmly extracted an ice cream. I said ‘Are you having another one sweetie?’. Sophie murmured ‘It’s not a second one’ and drifted out of the kitchen. I was wondering whether to say anything when there was a break in the conversation and Estelle suddenly pricked up her ears. I said that I wasn’t worried about Sophie having another ice cream, I was just worried that she might be taking it for Arina. Estelle gave chase and, after what sounded like a heated exchange in French, returned with the half unwrapped ice cream in her hand. A few minutes later, all the children came in holding hands and appeared to be silently counting down (like you do when about to play a piece of music) and then sang, in unison and quite tunefully, ‘ARINA NEEDS AN ICE CREAM’. By this time, I think that all the other mummies were praying for Lena to give in. Poor Lena, obviously feeling a bit defensive by this stage, said ‘I let her have chocolate’. I got a cake of chocolate out of the treat cupboard without the children seeing and asked Lena silently if I could give it to Arina. Lena nodded and with some relief I handed Arina a 75g block of Green and Black’s best organic milk chocolate.

Well it turned out that Lena’s nod had meant that I could give Arina a SQUARE of chocolate, not the whole block. But it was too late – Arina and her gallant supporters had run from the kitchen at speed, clutching their new found riches. Lena very sensibly decided to roll with the punches.

Level 2 Chi Kung.

Estelle (Clara’s mummy) breezily reminded me this morning that I am hosting the pikkujoulu (small Christmas party) after trampolining tomorrow. With Katie off sick I had completely forgotten about it. So, after taking care of the last of the really really urgent paper war (at last) and finding a company to print the Christmas cards, it was off to the supermarket. Under normal circumstances, catering for a small party like this would be a piece of cake – the complicating factor is that Estelle is dairy-intolerant, which makes everything that bit more complicated. So far I have made a Spanish tortilla (the omelette kind, not the thin crisp thing American’s call tortillas) and remembered not to put any cheese in it, and I have a recipe for a dairy-free chocolate cake. I bought some more gelatine, so tomorrow I will make marshmallows and of course the stuff for the children doesn’t have to be dairy free.

Level 2 Chi Kung.

A dispiriting day – neither productive nor fun. Spent most of the afternoon reading through paperwork on the Civil Service Pensions Options Exercise. Sadly it seems that the options are

1) get screwed over by the government in 2018 and
2) get screwed over by the government in 2015.

Level 2 Chi Kung.

Katie home from school again and the second day of work for the new cleaner. It is always stressful having someone new in the house but with this girl it is worse than usual. She is very sweet, so I very much want it to work out, but she is excruciatingly slow. Last week I put it down to her finding her way around, but this week she wasn’t much faster – taking 5 hours to do around 50% of the work that Geni did in 4 and half hours. Worst of all, noticing a terrible smell, I went downstairs and discovered that she was vacuuming with the Dyson so full that it obviously couldn’t fit another speck of dust and was just re-distributing hot dust around the house. One of the things I like about Dysons – as opposed to normal vacuum cleaners – is that they don’t smell, but clearly even Dysons have their limit.

Level 2 Chi Kung.

Nick off cycling, so my turn on morning duty.

Sometimes, working in the health service, I have envied the automatic extra credibility extended to those with a clinical background, and wondered why I never even considered studying medicine. Then something happens which reminds me that I am probably the most squeamish person ever to walk the corridors of a hospital and it becomes all too clear. Shortly after Nick had left this morning, I noticed that Jack had somehow lost most of the skin off the last joint of his index finger and it was pretty much raw flesh and looking very nasty indeed. Suppressing the urge to faint and / or vomit, I spent most of the morning trying to persuade Jack to let me bathe and dress it, but no go. By the time Nick got home around 1:30, I was feeling a bit desperate. Nick couldn’t persuade him either, but he did manage to get him to have a bath which, by default, washed the finger a bit. Jack still wouldn’t allow us to put a plaster on so, as soon as poor Nick had had a bit of a ‘lick and a promise’ and changed out of his cycling clothes, he and Jack set off for the nearest minor injuries unit (we had tried our GP after hours service, but they ‘don’t do dressings, love’). They waited for hours and arrived home in the early evening with Jack’s finger plastered and some antibiotics. At which point we embarked on the challenge of trying to get Jack to take the bloody antibiotics…

Level 2 Chi Kung.

Katie didn’t feel up to going to Stagecoach, so a cruisy Saturday morning with only Dash’s guitar lesson to get to. After guitar, I was about to take Dash for his customary jam-sandwich-with-the-crusts-cut-off lunch at the Age Exchange, when I noticed that it was actually SUNNY! I persuaded Dash to forgo lunch and we headed home at speed to take the Christmas photo while the light lasted. Everyone pitched in and very soon the tripod was set up and everyone was washed and brushed and dressed in their new Christmas jumpers. We left Sherlock’s jumper until last, on the grounds that he might be a bit resistant to the idea, but in fact he seemed very pleased to finally be treated the same as the other children. He watched them all getting into their jumpers and clearly felt it completely natural that he should have one too. He then hopped up on the seat, placed one paw affectionately on Katie’s leg and posed beautifully for the duration of the shoot!

Level 2 Chi Kung.

A quiet day at home with Katie off school. Got the boys off to school, then set Katie up, well rugged up, with plenty of craft materials and the computer to watch and, amazingly, she let me sleep for an hour and a half. I was almost thwarted by the builders, who arrived unexpectedly to remove the boxing from the concrete slab and collect all their gear. They padded in and out, making the gate squeak and graunch in a most annoying manner – totally unnecessarily because Tudor had taken Sherlock again. I finally couldn’t stand it any more and went downstairs to tell them that the dog was away and they could just leave the gate open, but of course I got one of the ones who doesn’t speak much English. Luckily they left soon after that and, finally, I got my long-awaited nap. Felt so much better afterwards.