I had one of those phases of being utterly delighted by my children this weekend, which hubris is usually a precursor to a phase of extravagantly bad behaviour on their part. Also, it's usually a reflection of having achieved absolutely nothing in a given week other than managing to keep them alive and thus being anxious to celebrate that fact. Nevertheless, let me record it for posterity and in order to tempt fate even more comprehensively.
Of all the things I expected my children to get into, I think sewing was fairly low down the list. Probably well after 'arson' (F has dabbled, admittedly) and 'shoplifting'. It's a distinct improvement on the blue gel ant farm-slash-morgue and the kitchen based science experiments involving all the bicarb in the world.
I can't really sew myself, beyond putting buttons back on and occasionally sewing their pockets back onto their coats when they fill them to the brim with crap (F explained that he does this because when they are asked to each pick up five pieces of rubbish in the schoolyard, he can just get five out of his pocket, which is resourceful, if immoral). It is all Blue Peter's fault. They have developed a new passion for Blue Peter and all the multitude of tantalising craft activities demonstrated therein. Last week we mummified oranges. I'm not complaining, exactly, it's all good constructive stuff, though I suspect the 'organ removal' for the orange on the left was not quite as comprehensive as it needed to be. There is seepage.
It's not tidy, but nothing they do is.
We spent all of Saturday afternoon quite peacefully like this, sitting at the kitchen table, sewing, like something out of the nineteenth century but with more potent glue. Mainly I threaded needles and did knots. My assistance in all other areas was swiftly dismissed. It took them about 15 minutes to get better than me anyway.
The devil was wholly designed and executed without any input on my part at all, and resized down to a miniature version from the Blue Peter template, also without any input, except ironing the fold on the horns (melted felt on your iron? Yes indeed).
I'm not entirely sure who this lot are. The one in the middle is a shark. I think the others are a ZZ Top tribute band.
Apart from that, as foreshadowed in the first paragraph, I had a week of utter losership and failed to get anything constructive done. Tally:
- 2 excellent but ruinously expensive cocktails (here)
- 1 excruciatingly awkward professional lunch engagement at which I acquitted myself very poorly indeed
- 1 blissful hour with Noblesse the horse who is happily recovered from her gammy leg (I was slightly worried I might turn up one day and she'd just be gone, sent off to be made into lasagne or something, poor old lady)
- 0.5 pitches (pitch not good enough to merit a whole 1)
- 1 not-entirely-solicited-written-on-offchance-fingers-crossed story written and sent
- 0.00003 hours of sunlight
- 43 hours of fruitless self-loathing
- 5 Horrible Histories series 5 episodes watched (no regrets)
- 2 soakings in thunderstorms
- 24 plays of Step (I have booked to go to a festival JUST so I can go and see Vampire Weekend again this summer. I'm not at all convinced I like any of the other acts. Go on, tell me who else I should see).
- 32 plays of F's violin accompaniment, only for the concert to be cancelled the night before
- 45 compulsive online checks of bank balance (a new neurosis for S/S13!)
- 1 hairdresser's appointment acquired for next Tuesday, thank the baby Nathan. I have tried the new un-cut wig on. It is very dark and luxuriant. I have high hopes that for a short while I will not look like myself at ALL. I fear I will instead look like an Apprentice candidate. Hopefully not Alex with the Vulcan eyebrows.
1 great spotted woodpecker sighted in garden! (This would not have merited an exclamation mark in any previous year, but now I am old enough to really really care about birds and I don't even care)
400 stupid but salutory gchats
8 detailed fantasies about going to live on a deserted Greek island with some goats, followed by 8 memories of this conversation.
Give me a tally of your week in the comments, if you are so inclined.