love those cupcakes

I have never

.....learned to swim.  Yet somehow I produced a fish-like Boy who competed at national level.

 

.....mastered the handstand.  Or the cartwheel.  Or roller skates.

 

.....climbed a tree.   Fortunately for our garden, other people have and still do.

 

.....visited any part of the continent of Africa.  For a number of reasons, I probably never will.  Ditto Australia/Oceania.  Although isn't there a saying, 'Never say never'?

 

.....properly gotten over my fear of dogs.   Lovely Boo (who, by the way, seems to be showing some signs of improvement but there's another trip to see the vet later today) doesn't scare me but many other dogs do.  This can make for very interesting dog walks. 

 

.....willingly parked my car between two other vehicles.  Just. Can't. Do. It.  Even though said car is not an Aston Martin.  Even if it means I end up parking miles away from where I'm meant to be and having to get the bus in.

 

.....danced on a table.  I've danced on a variety of stages but a table?  None that I remember.

 

.....read an entire play by Shakespeare.  I was meant to read Romeo and Juliet as part of the English Literature syllabus at my girls' grammar school but I didn't get very far into it at all.  It was a similar story with Julius Caesar and other writers' works including  Wind in the Willows and The Grapes of Wrath.  I did read Cranford and Northanger Abbey, though many years after I was supposed to.  Needless to say, my GCE exam resulted in a big fat fail.

 

.....ridden on a motorbike.  Scooters, yes, and a particularly memorable ride on one whilst spending the summer on a Greek island, when a young donkey with an impressive set of gnashers inexplicably took a fancy to me, or, more accurately, my rear end.  It was traumatic.  For both of us.

 

.....driven an HGV.  I always fancied having a go with a Class 1 truck but, given my less than skilful reversing, it's probably best I didn't.

 

.....gotten a tattoo.  My dad and my much older brother each had one on their forearms, which used to fascinate me when I was little, but I never took the plunge.  None of my friends have one, either.  None that I can see, anyway.

 

.....dyed my hair a completely different colour.  I've always been blonde.  Various shades, some more flattering than others (I'll never forget the time I looked in the mirror in the dodgy hair salon and Myra Hindley stared back at me), and occasionally with a scattering of reddish hued highlights, but always blonde.

 

.....taken a holiday on my own.  I've travelled on my own but there has always been someone at the other end to join up with.  Unlike my brother who, apart from the several times he took me with him, was always a lone traveller.

 

.....lived on my own.  Even when I went to university the boyfriend-turned-mister tagged along and we shared a flat (well, it was more an attic space with a Baby Belling) in Leamington Spa for three years.

 

.....been as old as I am now.  I love birthdays, me.  Especially when they involve a vegan brownie topped and dripping with caramel cake.

 

Filling in the gaps

July chez nous was dominated by house renovations.  Our existing bathroom and shower room weren't so bad but a couple of bits needed replacing (a bit like me) so we decided to go the whole hog and blitz the lot. 

It's taken almost a month tor the work to be completed, during which time I've been confined to barracks on tea making, question answering and decision making duties.  I found myself quietly (mostly) crawling the walls with cabin fever yet again, but this time to the sounds of songs of the 80s, sung very loudly and somewhat less than pitch perfect, with a cocker spaniel providing backing vocals.

But it's finished and we now have a swish wet room and a pristinely white bathroom, which just need a few faffy bits adding here and there to complete the look.  So far, I'm managing to keep everything sparklingly clean with the help of a couple of packs of e-cloths (thanks to the couple of bloggers for introducing me to these) and forcing everyone else to use the facilties elsewhere (just kidding....maybe).  But who knows how long until I throw the e-cloth in?  All bets are off.

July is the Boy's birthday month and we celebrated at Pizza Express (his choice) and, of course, with cake.  This year's offering was a chocolate and salted caramel popcorn creation which involved a first, and possibly last, attempt at Swiss meringue buttercream (life's too short for all that whisking).  It wasn't perfect (the chocolate sponge was moist but strangely crumbly), I couldn't taste it (made with several blocks of butter, this was the opposite of vegan) but it was well received, the candles were blown out as a wish was made and every last crumb disappeared.

Books have been featuring as usual, despite all the upheaval of bathroom works.  Highlights were  I Remember You, a spooky tale, from Iceland's queen of crime fiction, about three friends who set out to spend a week renovating a dilapidated property in a remote abandoned village.  Meanwhile, the police are drawn into revisiting the cases of a couple of missing children.  I found Norah Webster , which has been sitting on the book pile for quite a while, more enjoyable than the earlier Brooklyn.  Norah, a mother of four, is newly widowed and this is the story of her adjustment to life without her husband in a small Irish town in the late 1960s.  The Night Visitor is a claustrophobic tale.  Two women, one a writer and respected historian, the other an older, socially awkward housekeeper, and a big. fat. lie.

A  hefty book at over 700 pages, A Little Life has been described by many reviewers as a moving, tear inducing, all consuming read and it's a book I've been avoiding.  The time is now right.  I'm going in.

Boo is still not fully recovered from his recent major surgery and appears to have, erm, sprung a leak (not bladder related, if you were wondering).  The vet is puzzled and consulting with a colleague, whilst in the meantime Boo, to his embarrassment, is wearing nappies.

The littlest and his mama paid us a visit one weekend so, armed with a picnic and Monkey, off we went to the RSPB reserve at Saltholme.  I absolutely love this place, with its wide open spaces, wetlands, industrial backdrop and reminders of the town's heritage.  

 

I've fallen out with all things culinary and proper meals have been few and far between here lately.  Following the latest trip to the supermarket, dinner has turned decidedly pastel.  And very sweet.  Classy, no?

As for the continuing heatwave, I'm saying nowt.