love those cupcakes

The sweet taste of opportunity (with lots of words, no pictures)

work (wʉrk)

Noun  

1. Employment at a job or in a position.  

2. Occupation, profession, business, trade, craft, etc.

 

Since leaving university the first time, I've always worked.  Full time, part time, on a sessional basis, day time, out of hours, as a practitioner, as a manager and senior manager, and currently as an academic. Most jobs I've loved, that never knowing what the work day would bring, that drive to try to make a difference. The pay cheques have always been most welcome, too.

Of course my employment path hasn't all been rosy and there have been the inevitable blips along the way, but then, at the end of 2009, came that massive bolt out of the blue.  A cancer diagnosis.  A rare, gynaecological cancer.  Malignant melanoma of the vulva.  (No, I didn't know you could get it there, neither did the GPs at my practice and, if you're wondering, it isn't sun related).

I had the radical surgery and went back to work after 5 months' sick leave. There are regular check-ups and, while there's no room for complacency, I can tentatively say (touching wood and all that) eighteen months on, so far, so good.  Or as my dentist wryly put it "You're still here, you're still breathing, how much better does it get?".  But life, and my attitude to living it, hasn't been the same since.

So, when moving on from a job I've been dissatisfied, frustrated and increasingly unhappy with became a distinct possibility (and it hasn't been about feeling like a square peg in a round hole, it's that certainty that I'm not even a peg!), I threw my hat into the ring, crossed my fingers and awaited the decision. 

The letter arrived eventually and the result is that, in a couple of months' time, I'm leaving work.

For ever.

 

retirement (riˈtīrmənt)

Noun

1. The action or fact of leaving one's job and ceasing to work.

2. The period of one's life after leaving one's job and ceasing to work.

 

Then, whenever anyone asks "What do you do?", I'll be able to reply.......

"Whatever I want".

 

Open house

English Heritage are quite dog friendly (compared to the National Trust) so Boo was able to do a fair bit of stately home garden strolling and ancient site visiting on our recent jaunt (though he would have liked the opportunity to sample the tea shops).  Whilst he and Mister Cupcakes took refuge from the rain in the car when we were at Belsay Hall and Castle, I took the opportunity to get the most from the admission fee and have a nose round inside the house. 

Rather surprisingly, beyond the impressive columns at the entrance, there's nothing in it.   It's just a shell.  No furniture, art or other collections.  What I did come across, however, was a temporary exhibition of locally made quilts.  (Reading more about the place later, I was sorry to have missed an earlier exhibition though it seems it was not without its problems).

I'm not sure I could snuggle under this next one which depicts "the hanging of five men in Durham City in 1692 for the crime of being gypsy".

One which seems to have been made with Jenny in mind.

On the way out, I earwigged a woman answering her mobile phone.  "Oh hello.  We're in Northumberland.  It's our fifteenth holiday this year". 

Note to self:  Must. Travel. More.

Getting worse before getting better

Plans to revamp our neglected little back garden have been talked about for at least 2 years and probably longer.  It was a bare plot (the house was newly built) when we moved here and a lot of effort went into laying turf, building and populating a pond, establishing paved areas and a path, and planting. 

Almost twenty years on, and with our enthusiasm for gardening having waned over time, it's in a sorry state. Faced with all of that empty soil, I made the classic mistake of overfilling it and you only have to look at the narrow borders to see that the shrubs and trees have had to jostle each other for space and light, with their long, misshapen, skeletal arms which only manage to bloom, if at all,  in the last couple of inches.  Then there are the self planted aliens that made themselves at home and flourished, and those others that have simply vanished without trace. 

Part of the problem with the garden is the odd shape.  Whilst small, there isn't one place where you get a view of it all.  It has no depth, running behind our garages at the side of the house, which wasn't an issue when we backed onto a field but now we're overlooked by houses, built far too close and too high in our opinion.  Of course, there's nothing we can do about that (apart from move house which the mister is passionately agin) but we can do something to improve the outside space so that we can actually enjoy it.

And so we've taken the first step by having most of the fencing replaced.  What I hadn't understood was that this would involve the rather brutal removal of some of those afore mentioned shrubs and trees (and thus providing some of those afore mentioned neighbouring houses with uninterrupted views of life chez nous).  

Part of the bomb site, after four loads of debris had been taken to the tip.

A view of work in progress from the bottom corner of the garden, looking past the garages towards the pond and house.

Where plant and fence become one.

But I'm quickly realising that this unplanned decluttering is a good thing, forcing us to think about what should be kept and what really has no business to be there at all. 

 

Holiday snaps

Well, that was a surprise.  Although living less than an hour and a half from its borders, neither of us are at all familiar with Northumberland.  My day trip to Holy Island as a youngster and the Mister's week's camping at Kielder when he was 14 just about sums up previous visits.  As someone who once (mistakenly) thought civilisation ended at Leeds, I've always tended to turn left onto the A1 and headed south.  Now we know what we've been missing.

The country's most northerly county, and reportedly the least populated, Northumberland offered so much (despite some dismal weather).  Wide, empty beaches, breathtaking countryside, castles, priories, stately homes, gardens, a very long Roman wall, an island accessible by a causeway at low tide,  rollercoaster country roads resulting in Incredible Levitating Dog in the back of the car, lakes, forests, market towns, seaside villages, the knitted Royal Wedding (displayed in the window of a house), Waitrose (there are no branches near us) and sheep. So many sheep.  My little camera really couldn't do justice to any of it.

 

Our base for the week was a cottage (a converted byre) on a small farm near Hexham.  When I say cottage, think underfloor heating, woodburning stove, antique furniture and accessories, fully equipped kitchen and situated next to the farmhouse which originally was a Tudor long house.  Boo took a while to settle in, though this farm resident caught his eye as a potential playmate .

Alas, he wasn't her type.

May treats

Soft boiled egg and home baked bread soldiers to dip in.  I don't often have this  but sometimes it just hits the spot when a change from breakfast muesli is required.

A vegetarian recipe book.  Menus here have become a tad predictable and need a shake up.

A new lippy.  My desert island essential, can't-do-without makeup item.  I buy lots though I'm not particularly brand loyal.  This one is a sort of beigey pink colour, lighter than the photograph suggests.

 

Something to watch. We somehow missed this when it was on the telly recently.

Something to wear. A new favourite. 

A week's holiday in Northumberland.  With the Mister.  And the Boo.

Back soon.

Surprise find

I love it when I find something I'd forgotten I had.  Yesterday, I was putting a vase away in the cupboard in the dining room and came across a giant Toblerone which was a remnant from Christmas.  I could have left it where it was, as the best before date was November of this year and we're still recovering from the Easter chocolate overload, but I didn't.  Instead, I made these. 

I reduced the amount of sugar and upped the chopped Toblerone and they received a thumbs up from us all.  

As it was a giant bar of chocolate, I can make more when this batch has been eaten..........

..........always supposing there is no nibbling in the meantime.  (And ignoring the "These are indulgent recipes for a special, occasional treat" warning on the website).