love those cupcakes

A new chapter

Life is all about choices and change, milestones and significant events, and it seems that we're about to enter a new phase, starting a new chapter.  The Husband finished work today forever, having made the decision (after some hard thinking) to volunteer for redundancy.  Like so many businesses in the current climate, his company were faced with having to make significant cuts in staffing levels if they were to have a chance at surviving in the longer term.  But before you start commiserating, this isn't as bad as it would be for many people (like his colleagues who had the redundancy decision made for them) as he's that bit closer to retirement age than others (including me, before you ask!).  Nevertheless, it does herald some big changes for us as a couple and as a family.

Not least of these will be the impact of losing a (rather decent) salary.  For the first time since we've been together, I'll have the dubious honour of becoming the main breadwinner.  In the past, the Husband has taken on this role several times:  when I was a student, again when we decided I'd be a stay at home mum and then when I subsequently returned to work on a very part time basis. And despite a few, shall we say, tight situations along the way, we always managed.   So now it's my turn.

A starting point has been trying to work out a budget (anyone reading this who knows me will be on the floor howling with laughter at this point) and this means I'm going to try have to curb my tendency (who am I kidding, it's a downright passion, my raison d'etre) to shop, to spend, to continuously splash out.  Now, I'm not expecting to have to resort to moving to a yurt and making soup from other people's vegetable peelings, but restraint will be the order of the day which probably won't always be easy but hey, needs must and it's a challenge I'm up for.  So, please pass on any tips and who knows?  This might turn into one of those blogs devoted to thrift and frugality.  But maybe you shouldn't hold your breath!

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Of course, there were cupcakes for the Husband's last day at work and the photograph is of what was sitting on top of his cupcake.  The resemblance is, er,  uncanny!   No, not really.  This is more a glimpse into the future.  About a year into retirement, maybe?

New flip flops

With warm(er) weather, longer days and summer holidays looming, thoughts turn to footwear. 

New flip flops are called for.

Blue and pink, I think.

Sparkly. 

Oh yes, and edible.

Flip flop cupcakes for an evening with The Girls.

Me?  I'm still wearing opaque black tights. 

Well, it's still only June.

Need. Sleep. Now.

(Image from www.lolpups.com/webcomics)

I've tried:

Counting sheep.

Counting pigs.

Avoiding caffeine.

Visualising something peaceful.

Visualising something boring.

Thinking purple thoughts.

Toe wiggling.

Tummy rubbing.

Facing north.

Facing south.

Sniffing lavender.

Yawning.

Reading.

Not reading.

All to no avail. 

Ironically, I'm married to a man who could kip on a washing line, day or night.   (Maybe there's only so much sleep to go around and he's sleeping my portion as well as his own). 

Shame these aren't available here.  Not a cure but oh, how comforting in the middle of a sleepless night.

Jamie and the Giant Peach

I caught the tail end of a discussion on Radio 4 the other day about women who go out with short men (and men who date taller women) and it got me thinking.  I only had one boyfriend who was smaller than me (I'm not that tall, about 5' 9'' ish in my prime ) and I was always conscious of the height difference.  I only ever wore flats and I seem to remember developing the habit of walking in the gutter whilst he stayed on the pavement.

When I was at university I had a friend who was 6 feet without shoes.  It didn't bother her at all that most (probably all, come to think of it) of the lads she was attracted to were considerably shorter than she was. I was always impressed that she "walked tall", whoever she was with, and, when she eventually married, she vehemently rejected the photographer's suggestion to stand her brand new husband on a box!   Incidentally, the bloke I married is a respectable 6' 4'' so I've been able to stay out of the gutters and could easily wear heels if only the dodgy ankles would allow. 

The height difference doesn't seem to matter to Sophie Dahl and Jamie Cullum and I'm sure there'll be no talk of standing on boxes at their wedding.

I had a quick browse of Sophie's new recipe book whilst in Borders last week

but couldn't decide whether it was a good buy.  So I put it back.

Saturday snapshot

Early afternoon on the somewhat dismal and wet Saturday this weekend, we decided to pay a long overdue visit to Helmsley, a little market town in North Yorkshire.  It's about a 40 minute or so drive (slow moving tractors permitting) from home and the single lane road winds its way through part of the spectacular North Yorks Moors national park. 

The remains of the medieval castle tower above the town and, we discovered, are to be the setting for an open air production of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew in August.  Of course, we've now bought tickets. Who could resist?  (And there's plenty of time to locate the folding chairs and picnic basket, last used some years ago at an Abba tribute/sing-a-long event in our local park).   

  There was no market today but it was enough to just meander the little streets around the market place.

There are some lovely shops here, including this book shop for me (I picked up a hardback copy of Joanna Trollope's Second Honeymoon for a bargain price, though I now think I 've read it already),

and a good selection of ales (this was only part of the display) in another for Himself.

 

A chocolate cafe?  Now that looks promising.

 

This little cottage garden was immaculately tended.

 

I pulled over into a farm entrance on the way back home to get a snap of the view which, for this Townie, was breathtaking.

Then it was onto Sainsbury's for the weekly trawl of the shelves and fridges, trying to remember what was on the shopping list which, as usual, was left on the table at home.