29 posts tagged “family”

I think my Mum had a good visit even though during the evenings she was trapped between my love of USA and Alex's Food Network obsession. Ah it was episode after episode of House, NCIS, Ace of Cakes, Food Network Challenges, etc. She now knows more about Bobby Flay and Rachel Ray than anyone else in South London. To round things off my Mum's flight was overbooked, and Virgin Atlantic upgraded her to Upper Class. Thank you very much Sir Richard for making my Mum's Christmas all over again! 

Now we are both getting back into our respective routines. Mum to whizzing around London on her Freedom Pass, and me to a heady life of yoga, sushi and Greek columns. I have less than a week before heading back to life as 9-5 drone (I must admit that there have been moments were I have felt a lingering curiosity to check my work email but then I remember how much I make, and the urge passes) and I am trying to make the most of my remaining time off so I have compiled lots of lists. Lists of topics and reading for school. Lists of yoga classes to be taken (and flabby bits to be firmed). Lists of recipes to be cooked or baked. Lists of chores to be done in the flat.

Here's to uber productivity over the next 5 days.

Aaahhhh

• 3 days till my mum arrives and I go on vacation for 2 weeks
• Battlestar Galactica webisodes (always had a soft spot for Gaeta)
• Still giggling from David Sedaris
• Mince pies and cocktail sausages
  

Aarrgghhh

• 3 days left in the office to get everything wrapped up
• It's too wet for the snow to stick around
• My mum hurt her back and I hope it is better by Friday because we have lots of adventures planned
• I have nothing to wear for the office Christmas party (except something from the vintage Missus H collection)
  
• Behind in school work but plan on catching up over Christmas break
  

If you were guaranteed an answer to any question you have, what would you ask and of whom?
Submitted by Cicero7590.

I would ask my Mum what belt she has in karate. Way back when in the days of flower power my Mum took up karate, when my brother and I found this out we desperately wanted to know how far she went but she firmly refuses to tell us. This has been going on for over twenty years, and we keep pressing her to make sure that she writes it into her will.

If I was greedy and could have two questions I would ask my examiners what by actual grades were because I still haven't received them and I am getting a tad impatient. I know I passed but this waiting for the actual percentages is killing me...

I was catching up with my Mum over skype at the weekend and we ended up chatting about a holiday we had in Oxford way back when.  I should clarify a couple of things. Firstly, I use the term 'catching up' loosely as we talk on the phone a few times a week (snatched calls from conference rooms), and exchange emails through out the day. When you couple that with twitter and blogging we pretty much have small talk covered, and there are times I feel that some people are hardwired into my brain. Secondly, the trigger for this tramp down memory lane was my paternal granny (Grannie Butterfly) mailing my Mum a thank you letter that her mother (my maternal granny - Granny Moth) had sent Grannie Butterfly in the late 80s.

So back in the mists of time before iPods or cell phones Mum, Granny Moth, my brother and myself headed down to Oxford to house sit for my paternal grandparents for a week or two, and take care of their cat Emmet.  My brother and I didn't have pets growing up instead we ended up looking after our friend's cats, hamsters and tortoises when they went on vacation. This arrangement proved to priceless as we got a few weeks a year to play pet owner but without any of the responsibility, and the pets always stayed at their owners home so we didn't even have to make way for them in our home. I digress, I remember that the summer of the year I can't remember was hot and it was this climatic condition that led to our merry band having to spend an afternoon sitting on the roof of my grandparents extension.

When we got to Oxford we quickly discovered that the place was hooching with fleas. I believe that the piping hot temps had a part to play in the craziness of the flea situation that was engulfing the nation.  The cat was immediately banished to the garden, and my Mum dispatched to the chemist to buy every bottle of flea powder she could get her paws on.  Every inch of carpet was covered in a thick dusting of flea powder, and the house looked like Narnia had been seeping out of the wardrobe and infecting reality. Whilst the powder was doing its thing we were evacuated onto the roof of the ground floor extension with mugs of tea, sandwiches and reading material.  I wish we had photos of us picnicking on the roof, and chilling out till the fumes subsided.  Once the powder was vacuumed up all was well but that didn't stop my Granny Moth's inner shaman coming to the surface, and she got my brother and I to sleep with cloves of garlic in our beds.  

Once the flea situation was squared away we had a lovely stay in Oxford even though it was not as rich in jumble sales as Peebles was. 

My normal weekday routine is either study-work-home-study or study-work-yoga-home-study (it's really fun to compare it with my weekend schedule which is study-study-meal-Daily Show-study-study-study-snack-Colbert Report-study-sleep) but I got a text from my cousin (who is vacationing over here with his girlfriend) saying he was in Soho and was I free for a coffee. The answer was of course YES and my plans for the evening morphed from work-yoga-study into work-flee-coffee-East Village-office drinks-lost-cab-PATH station-bump into friend-yoga-home-tea-chocolate almonds-sleep.

Life would have been easier had I not been dead set on getting to yoga but I just had to have a class with the best teacher in the world: Suzanne. She is fantastic, and since she was subbing the 7:30pm class I knew that I really stood a chance of fitting in coffee and office drinks into my crazy schedule. Low and behold I actually managed to do it all with the help of a cab, and a bit of light jogging.

My exam dates were published on Friday. The excitement of seeing them made my blood sugar drop to my knees, and I was forced to run out for a snack.  After weeks of uncertainty I (and all my fellow students) have firm dates and can start formulating my revision schedule AND plan my trip back to London. I think that there must be someone looking after me at the University of London because the dates are perfect. Absolutely perfect! My three exams are spread out over a week, and because my employers let me take two weeks unpaid leave for this maddness I can actually arrive in London five days before my first exam. Which means five whole days of revision - w00t! Unlike the last few years where I have had to battle jet lag and exam nerves I will be fully rested before my Roman Literature paper. It may seem odd but my exam leave is one of the highlights of the year for me. I get to be a full-time student, prove my mettle in exam conditions, and have my Mum looking after me. Hot and cold snacks magically appear by my side, and we plan little Classical (or theatrical) excursions for my down time.

Sometimes it is really nice to go home and be looked after (even if you do have exams at the end of it).

I've just got back from visiting a TEAM Academy school in Newark (part of the KIPP network), and as always I get a little teary eyed at seeing kids that are attentive, well behaved in class, and actually make eye contact and greet you in the corridors. Oh so different from my own experience of going through the English comprehensive education system of the 80s and 90s. I could lament for days about mixed ability classes, poor discipline, unruly kids who didn't give a flying fig (and who I dearly wished were rambunctious enough to truant more often), and a curriculum reduced to a thick gloppy mess. Instead, let's look on the bright side and the two things that set me up for life.

Firstly, the environment that my parents created for my brother and I. It was nurturing and inquisitive, and we really spent a lot of time together. It sounds corny but parenting really has to be intensive up to a certain point (thought not like a pushy mother like Bertie's in Alexander McCall Smith's Scotland Street). We spent a lot of time talking about books and films, and visiting museum after museum.  My Mum always (and still does) had time to read through anything I had written or to talk about projects I needed to research. When I was in sixth form and taking maths A-level I use to fax through my home work for my Dad (he was working overseas) to check over. They were involved, they were interested and also, they are really interesting people. For them there is always something to be learnt, and our personal knowledge should never be allowed to plateau. I think it is safe to say that I'm an autodidact because they are autodidacts. (And Alex's autodidactiveness is a very attractive quality).

Secondly (and slightly more briefly as I have some autodidacting to be getting on with), Craigie Primary School in Perth. I might have only gone to school in Scotland for 3 years but by damn did it see me through the English education system. In those three years I was taught spelling, punctuation, cursive (a fancy new word I have learnt because to me it will always be joined up writing), and the manners and behavior I had been taught at home were reinforced.

It was a lush weekend, and I am really getting back into the Homeric grove.  Roll on the weekend again so I can break the back of plotting out the books, and start to think about the essays that are looming over head. As much as I enjoyed studying, and watching Dexter the cherry on top was an email from my cousin letting us know he would be in town for a few days. We were able have dinner last night, and caught up on each others lives. It was a fantastic evening proving that the impromptu so much more enjoyable than the premeditated. 

My birthday, Christmas and the whole 10 days in London were fantastic - absolutely bloody fantastic!  We packed a lot in pre-birthday so by the time the 23rd rolled around I was ready for a quiet day, and a stroll around Borough Market to buy meat. I landed on the 20th, and headed straight to theatre for a matinée production of  La Cage Aux Folles at the Menier Chocolate Factory with Mum, and I couldn't have picked a better production to kick off the festivities. The singing, the dancing, the marabou feathers and sequins, and that was just the boys... BOOM BOOM.

The next day with a newly liberated Alex we headed to Claridges for an early birthday slash Christmas lunch. I love Claridges, and to me it is Christmas. The trees in the foyer, the decor, a slap up meal with exquisite service and the tiny mince pies. This is one of the newer Christmas traditions that we have incorporated into our family and I haven't heard any complaints. Needless to say it was sensational, and to top it all off we were treated to kitchen tour which really was the cherry. I think there were many factors at play for us getting the kitchen tour (and met Mark Sargeant), and it probably helped that this was a repeat visit, and that we were a friendly group really enjoying ourselves.  Needless to say we spent the rest of the day with a full belly and a smug grin on our faces, and I hope that my brother was kicking himself for missing lunch to wood chip a tree in at our Dad's.

On Saturday we had to vacate Alex's corporate abode in Pimlico and relocate to my Mum's. Pimlico turned out to be a

Trojan horse, and really wasn't as exciting as we thought it would be - perhaps all these years in NYC has spoiled us, and at least where my Mum lives has no pretensions. We left Alex to an afternoon of CounterStrike whilst Mum, Jonty and I retreated into our childhood and went to panto. But, not any pantomime the shiny jewel of middle class panto at the Old Vic, and Cinderella penned by Mister Stephen Fry. He had carefully deconstructed  Cinderella and the traditional features of a  pantomime and then  carefully put them back together again with a liberal dash of grownup humor.  Loved Sandi Toksvig has the crossed dressing narrator, Cinderella wasn't in the least bit annoying and they channeled her traditional sappiness into a way of everyone making fun of her, and Buttons is glorious. Normally I hate Buttons mooning over Cinderella but Fry had Buttons mooning over Dandini so he was able to bond with Cinders over their perfect man.

By the time my birthday rolled around I was ready to take it easy, and tried to  spend the rest of  holiday doing as little as possible.  I am happy to report that is something I excelled in!

I have been sucked into the vortex that is Christmas at the homestead. My body composition has morphed to 12% mincemeat, 23% tea, 37% butter and the remainder is contentment. I have had a fantastic few days, and I have much to blog about once I gather my thoughts (and wring all the goose fat from my little grey cells); lots of trips to the theatre to see cross-dressing menfolk, a magical lunch at Claridges and lots of quality time with the family (and yes I qualify quality time as group veneration of Russell Brand). Any ways I have plenty of time to compose tomorrow when I am partaking in a day trip to Berwick-Upon-Tweed, and hopefully I will manage to do a little bit of prep work as well so I wont feel so guilty about going to Bluewater on Friday.

(Before you ask yes I really don't want to get up at 5am to get the train to Berwick (much rather work my way through old episodes of Old Tricks on cable) but annual family obligations dictate that I should.)