The Little Things I Love This Week

March 4, 2015March 16, 2015

The Little Things I Love This Week

Blossom in Hyde Park — I had to go to Hyde Park to find this little beauty.

It’s spring by name – metrological spring covers the months of March, April and May, so this week sees the first official week of my favourite season. Of course, the naysayers will point out that the natural world is as far removed from our Gregorian calendar as say, many politicians are from their ideals but I say in this instance, we’ll give it a name and let nature grow into it.

Tanking across Hyde Park for a little retail therapy on Saturday(while the Hubster and the small one were enjoying the Science Museum) I found this little beauty. I live on the edge of an old orchard and not a blossom have I seen yet, I had to come into London for that.

In case you’re wondering, yes I did buy something on Oxford Street – a rather fabulous little number. It will sit in my wardrobe and sing to me until I can find a suitable occasion to wear it. Have a quick squizz here – it looks even more gorgeous on, I just need to find the right orange shoes to go with it now. Any suggestions gratefully received.

Crocus in the greenery — Purple and green – one of my favourite combinations

LIttle white crocus — This little white crocus was the first to pop open

And these little babies have been busy coming up in my garden. I bought a random bag of crocuses last autumn and made it my business to plant them randomly so that I’d forget where they’d pop up. I’m easily entertained.

Sainsbury's Cookbook — A new cookbook for me makes everyone happy

The sassy little dress was not the only treat I bought myself this week. Check this out. I’ve had a darn good rummage around in this, the latest addition to my gargantuan library of cookbooks. The thing that makes the just-out Sainsbury’s Cookbook (and what I also love about Sainsbury’s magazine – I don’t work for them, honest!) is that it uses pretty simple ingredients in a rather fabulous way. I reckon my family will be well up for the Buffalo wings and the prawn, feta, tomato and chilli stew. Personally, the trio of dips and the grilled halloumi salad are well and truly floating my boat at the moment as are the pecan caramel cinnamon buns and the Pastel de Santiago (a Spanish lemon and almond cake). Expect pictures of my own efforts soon.

And finally, in order to offset the effects of my culinary pleasures, I broke the 3k mark twice this week. This is a considerable achievement for me as I only started running seven weeks ago. I’ve been following the NHS’ Couch to 5K plan and if you’ve heard about it and you’ve been toying with the idea of digging out your running shoes, do it. I’ve gone from collapsing at the supermarket checkout after having dashed for the forgotten milk/cheese/butter/beer just a couple of months ago to perving over new running shoes with my mate who’s also just taken up running.

Running is addictive. Running has made me happy. 3K is an achievement and the 5K charity run I’m doing in October no longer seems like the hurdle it once was. (Read more about The Silent Bleed, the charity I work with, here).

In fact, I’m off for a run now. There’s some bright, spring sunshine to be had out there and I’m on the lookout for blossom.

I hope I’ve inspired you to get outside and find your own signs of early spring this week. Whether you’re running, walking or getting dragged along by the dog, do share how it’s made you feel – and keep a lookout for fabulous orange shoes (but they’re best found in a shoe shop).

QOST xxx

Please like & share:

March 4, 2015March 16, 2015

Lisa in the Rain

– Many of my friends often bring a little book with them to my craft group on a Monday night along with pens, pencils, lace, ribbons, glue and other crafty materials. It’s not just any book, it’s a Wreck this Journal. If you haven’t heard of this phenomenon, then look it up. Many a creative episode has it inspired and it lead my good buddy Lisa to pen the passage below – I loved it so much, I had to share it. Of course, you won’t get to hear her lovely voice in your head reading it, sorry!

Lisa's Wreck This Journal — Lisa’s response to ‘Document a boring event in detail’

I’m sat in the car in the rain, watching big fat drops covering windows and running in rivulets towards the cold tarmac. The radio is on Radio 4 and the news is on. A Mark Carnie is speaking in a clear voice and the pips have just sounded – regular and very British. The hubby is in Les’ house about 20 metres away talking Buffs. That’s why I’m in the car – less chance of having to join in, well no chance really.

Rain getting harder, lightly drumming on the roof and finding its way through my window, which is open a chink to allow the remnants of my fag smoke to escape. Also, raindrops, fat and cold are finding my page and leaving little round wrinkles on the paper, the paper is of quite poor quality and makes felt tips bleed.

The travel news has just interrupted Radio 4 and somewhere is flooded as it has been raining for days.

The bin lorry is coming along with lights flashing with the bin men like bright, yellow bees, buzzing around, bringing rubbish to the truck, it’s got quite a strong smell, even on this cold, wet day.

Ten minutes later, still sat here needing a wee.

The kind of thing Lisa gets up to with her journal when she’s not sat in the car writing monologues:

Lisa's wreck this journal watercolour butterfly — To create this butterfly, Lisa dropped watercolour paint straight out of the tube. It took ten hours to dry but what a striking result.

Lisas wrecked journal rangoli patterns — Striking monochrome patterns. I’ve watched Lisa develop these, they come from the soul (often between ciggies, swigs of coffee and swapping spicy chickpea recipes)

Please like & share:

January 13, 2015March 16, 2015

On the Nature of What I Am

Amandafearn1 — The Queen of Small Things in her garden

I went to a party recently. It was a most excellent party, hosted by a good friend of mine who has made most excellent parties an artform.

Whilst the evening was exceptional for many different reasons, what stood out for me was a question that came up time and time again and it was this:

so what are you?

I found myself stumped. My powers of speech a little dulled by a few Proseccos, I wanted to give a two word answer like bar maid, fire fighter or beach lifeguard but as I opened my mouth, I would instead take a sip of wine, make some indistinguishable noises under the thumping tunes and pass the breadsticks.

I suppose I could have said that I was a FTM (full time Mummy) – a possible contender for job title but this had to be viewed in light of one of the best quotes of the evening. This came from a gorgeous forty something, in what she confirmed was a Westwood frock: and it was the kind of crisp, elegantly designed affair that would sit next to the word ‘frock’ in a picture dictionary. She exclaimed, to much hilarity ‘how very middle class Mummy we all are – dancing at the Aga!’ We were all indeed, dancing at the Aga, using the towel rail as a pole albeit vertical rather than horizontal. The delightful frock, she informed us, had been acquired on Ebay, showing a remarkable sense of thrift, we all thought before someone picked a bottle of Prosecco off the walnut wood topped kitchen island and passed it around. We drank up and laughed some more. (I’ve got my fraudery off to perfection in such situations: the kind of social gatherings I was used to as a child involved worn sofas, ashtrays and sugary, dark tea in chipped mugs but the tourist in me smiled, quite genuinely.)

But it made me think: am I a full time Mum? Whilst I’m a dab hand at knocking out afterschool cake and end-of-the-month curry, I no longer dedicate every waking moment, nor the greater part of my intellectual or physical energy to my family – or at least not to the same extent I did when my children were babies. Is that what full time Mummies do? Even of older children? It’s all so very confusing.

I could have said that I’m a community worker. I’ve always had a firm belief that the early years are pivotal in a person’s life, so when the opportunity arose to help manage a local toddler group, I took it up. I had no idea that I would still be running it two years after my youngest was in full time school but it has secured me at the centre of a community and has supported the development of many children and their adults.

But is that the sum of what I do?

Could I have passed myself off as a writer? I write this blog, for example, I write for my friend’s charity website and I have, over many years, written all kinds of material from press releases to planning applications. I have somewhat of a talent for panning for information on the internet and although this has been part of what I’ve been employed to do in the past, I’ve never had a doohickie on my desk that says ‘writer’ and I don’t have a book in Waterstones. I must also confess that I was intimidated by the sheer weight of professional writing talent in the room at the time but does the exchange of coins for words a writer make?

So, back to my party. What did I say?

I waffled a little about my friend’s charity website. It is an important cause, so I was happy to promote it. I spoke of my children and of my blog but I had no title to give: no embossed words for a business card.

It was the following morning, dragging my hung-over body to the local shop for toilet paper (in fine form, my friend had taken better care of ensuring a healthy supply of mixers than ensuring a good stock of this very essential of essentials), when I spotted by the side of the pavement a few mushrooms growing in some gravel. They were tiny, grey and inconspicuous against the stones but in my daze, they stood out. They were the answer I had been looking for and it was all to do with the contrasting palates of colour.

It was a mild October morning and all around, fallen leaves littered the path: rich, decaying ochres, warm and mushy like pumpkin stew with barley and spice. But here, nestled against a fence and no doubt ignored by every other footfall were neutral, silent, simple tones: there was something very peaceful and restorative about them after such a dazzling night of stars. And I felt happy to have encountered such a secret joy in such a public place: the buzzing traffic and the plugged in joggers had no idea what was at their feet.

And this is what I am: I am the Queen of Small Things – this is the shoe that fits. I delight in the achievements of my friends, applaud those who climb ladders and celebrate the people who smash glass ceilings but I’ve been round long enough now to know that my pleasure lies in the small things because I own that pleasure like a secret: it is mine. I have given myself permission to be happy with what I have.

So, next time I’m asked about the nature of what I am over a glass of bubbly, I may simply speak of small mushrooms and autumn leaves

– that’s only if I’m not too busy dancing at the Aga.

Please like & share:

September 20, 2014March 16, 2015

Where the small things start

cup of tea in the garden — Earl Grey and notebooks

With a cup of tea. That’s where the small things usually start.

But I think for my first post, I’ll begin by telling you about my mother – she is after all, quite small.

She came late to writing, being a dyslexic schoolchild in the mid-20th Century was not a good place to be but thankfully her creative mind found release in acrylic paint and huge hardwood boards. A course at the community centre in her 50s threw up the suggestion that her difficulties in reading and writing properly were in fact a result of her very unique perspective of the world. And the door opened. She picked up a pen. She loves to share her work.

I’ve always been a writer – my Mother’s influence rubbing off on me. In turn, I now catch my own six year old daughter writing poems and creating stories and warmly remember rich afternoons spent cradling a beloved notebook, pouring over old scribblings and making new ones. As a teenager, I scratched my tormented feelings into larger, less beloved notebooks and as an adult, I send my ideas adrift on the internet.

It’s the idea of sharing that inspires me. My mother speaks to everyone – from strangers at the bus stop to the Big Issue seller and his dog in the town. She has a friend who wears no shoes from year end to year end, with tattoos on his head and no more home than a hand-built shack and a wood burner but she hugs him in the street and they share poetry. There are scraps of paper, pages ripped from notepads and neatly typed prose but each of her pieces is insightful, uplifting and beautifully rare. These are her gifts.

So, I got to thinking, what if I shared some of her work? What if I shared some of my own? What if I gave a space for others of a like mind? We could all be standing at one virtual bus stop or drinking from the same viral teapot.

That’s what the Queen of Small Things project is all about and there is more to follow.

Please like & share: