love those cupcakes

A Christmas list

Bake a Christmas cake √

Throw the Christmas cake in the bin because the oven was at the wrong temperature and there is a definite aroma of charred √

Bake another Christmas cake √

Make mince pies √

Make more mince pies because you ate the first batch √

Buy a Christmas tree √

Return to the garden centre the following day because you can't fit the tree into your ridiculously small car √

Halt Christmas preparations and enjoy a day in London √

Bribe Encourage a baking boy to make a gingerbread house √

Launch an attack on Mount Wrapping √

Re-wrap a pile of Christmas presents because they're oddly shaped and poke through the paper √

Buy lights for the very tall conifer next to the front door √

Realise you haven't bought a long enough string of lights √

Drape lights on the bare branches of the Japanese cherry instead √

Scrap that idea and return to the original plan √

Bribe Persuade a boy to do his artistic best with a short string of lights and a very tall tree √

Attend the hospital for an abdominal MRI scan √

Receive the diagnosis of umbilical hernia  √ 

Bemoan the likelihood of surgery √

Count your Christmas blessings √ 

 

Makes, musings and a very important message

First off, show and tell.  For a little while I've been beavering away quietly (and sometimes not so quietly, like the time I attempted to sew in a cushion zip and the air around me turned a very lovely shade of azure) in my ham fisted way on several projects for the anticipated New Arrival.  

I've knitted, crocheted, cut out and sewn.  I've begged the two more artistically talented people here to draw outlines of animals I could use as templates (they declined, hence woolly creatures which would never have made Noah's passenger list).  I've utilised a beautiful (and new and expensive) grey wool sweater which was washed instead of the recommended dry clean (read the label, read the label) and came out Barbie sized.  

A useful tutorial was found here and I managed to make a couple of items which definitely resembled bibs, even in a good light. These were joined over the weeks by a wonky rainbow blanket (the knitted blanket was more successful), a teddy with the face of a koala, a whale with a lopsided grin, a pair of little boots which just about match, a two legged cat, a couple of sweaters which may or may not fit over a baby's head and...... well, you get the picture.

My favourite was a little hooded jacket.  The pattern I used was a tatty photocopy from years ago which I acquired and used for the then baby Girlie.  This time round a couple of pockets were added (using the pick up stitches method no less) with a teeny bungee jumping teddy nestling inside one.

Now for the professional make.  The lovely Anne very generously offered to make a baby quilt which arrived in the post quicker than you can say charm pack.  

The stitching is exquisite.

 And there's been one more make, a very special one courtesy of the Girlie and her mister.

The most perfectly gorgeous baby boy.

*************  

August also marked this blog's eight year anniversary.  Yep, eight years of wittering about nothing in particular, documenting the ups (mostly) and downs (there have been a few) of an ordinary life being lived up here in the north east of England.  

Blogging itself has certainly changed in those eight years, with many favourite blogs going down the sponsorship and advertising route, calling time, closing shop, suddenly going silent, migrating to Twitter and Instagram.   

I'm not an Instagram user as I don't have one of those fancy mobile phones.  I don't have a mobile phone full stop.  I know, I know.  Luddite or what?

It started with an aversion to that sense of being always contactable.  That's still the case, though of course the other side of the no mobile coin is that I can't easily get in touch with anyone when I'm away from home and the landline.  I can live with that (though feel free to ask me again after I've broken down on some long dark country road with no means of requesting assistance and the ghost of Shovelly Joe flitting between the swaying trees).  

I do get that Instagram is quick, brief, easy, life-as-it-happens kind of thing.   But I'm in no particular hurry and prefer to take the more measured, leisurely route.  

So, call it old hat but I'll continue to while away the hours tapping away at the keyboard to keep the blog posts coming.  Because for me it's about the little stories, the conversations (even if they're with myself), the words.  I think it always has been.

*************  

Now for that message.  A very serious one.  

September is Gynaecological Cancer Awareness Month.  Did you know that gynaecological cancer survival rates have barely shifted over the last 30 years?  That, compared to the significant improvements in life expectancy following a breast cancer diagnosis, the number of women expected to survive ovarian, cervical, vaginal, vulval and womb cancer has stubbornly remained low for decades?  

Sadly, too many women are dying.  

Some of that is down to lack of knowledge about symptoms (and that includes GPs), embarrassment about talking about 'down below' stuff or assuming any change is just part of getting older.  

If you're a long time visitor here, you'll know that in 2009 I was diagnosed with a gynaecological cancer. Malignant melanoma of the vulva to be precise.  I've been so lucky to survive beyond the five year marker (five years and nine months, actually) and in July I was finally discharged from oncology after care. 

Sadly, too many women don't reach five years post diagnosis.

So please make sure you know the signs and symptoms of the five gynaecological cancers and encourage your mothers, daughters, aunts, nieces, cousins, friends to do the same.   You can find information here.  

   

The week in verbs

Spicing up bathtime.  Perfect for using as a body wash in the tub if, like me, you prefer a long leisurely soak to jumping under the shower.   

Visiting the farmers market in our local park in pouring rain early on Sunday and buying lots from the bread man. He'd baked for two markets only to have the other one (he hasn't perfected the art of bilocating, his girlfriend sells there on his behalf) cancelled at the last minute, so everything was BOGOF in an attempt to get rid of as much as he could.  

Hurting, in my tum, just a little bit, after eating much more than a little bit of bread.

Welcoming a small army of teeny men into my life, sitting them atop gingerbread and caramel cupcakes and passing them on  to a friend who was hosting a fundraising event for MacMillan Cancer Support.

 Buying a pumpkin, showing the mister the design I wanted and being told 'You're joking. You'll have to do it yourself'.  Someone may well be wearing our pumpkin this year.

Demonstrating it may be unwise to give me responsibility for undertaking a project involving a large round orange fruit and sharp implements.

Moaning about inconsistent clothes sizing.  Despite what the labels say, I'm not an 8 and never have been.  Looking at you, M&S.

Celebrating Aunty M's birthday with chocolate cake and lunch out in Barnard Castle. 

Finishing the latest book at bedtime, a novel about Elizabeth Barrett Browning's maid.  Margaret Forster is one of my favourite writers and the effective interweaving of fact and fiction in this tale provides a detailed account of life as a servant in the poet's household.  Other recent reads highly recommended are The Snow Child  (a 1920s Alaskan setting, a Russian fairytale, a question - is she real or imagined?) and The Easter Parade (two sisters, two lives, two different paths taken over a period of forty years).

Thinking about Christmas, planning Christmas stuff and buying a Christmas present or two.  And I'm not even sorry.

 

Every dog has its day

It was overcast with a distinctly autumnal nip in the air yesterday but, even so, there was a good turnout at the RSPCA's summer gala and dog show at the animal rescue centre. As you might expect, there were dogs of all types and sizes, dogs in costume, dogs so young and tiny they had to be carried, guide dogs in training, rescued dogs needing permanent homes, dogs making a return visit showing off their new owners, even a resident dog going back and forth on the little play train. 

They were all so well behaved.  Apart from one who made a right show of himself. One who objected to wearing his lead by continuously pulling.  One who insisted on barking very loudly and incessantly from the minute he jumped out of the car. One who needed to be taken into the paddock to calm down.  One who didn't calm down and couldn't enter any of the events.

I'd made cupcake 99s for the tea tent which we didn't get to try (I heard later that the Inspectors had had first dibs and bought plenty for scoffing later in the day but I did manage to score three bargainous books and a bag of homemade cherry and almond fudge) so we stopped by the river in Great Ayton village on the way home for the real thing. And a certain freshly shampooed ginger cocker spaniel spent some time in the back of the car reflecting on his behaviour.

Just like waiting for the proverbial bus

My social life is either all or nothing, weeks when nothing much happens at all and then a flurry of activity.  Like this week.  Yesterday included a halfway point meet-up with the Girlie in Harrogate (actually much nearer to us) where we strolled the streets, shunned Betty's for a healthier and queue free lunch of the Japanese variety, bought cupcakes (for a Boy who was in Newcastle doing pre submission tittivating to his master's dissertation), fancy beer (for the mister) and a couple of items of cooler weather clothing (for yours truly).  Later, there was a belated birthday dinner and catch up with a big bunch of sunflowers presenting friend at a favourite restaurant.  Tomorrow there's a visit to the local gallery and lunch with another friend, Saturday includes a meet up with a group of newish friends in a cafe which popped up recently in the row of shops down the road from us and on Sunday there's the  RSPCA summer gala and dog show.  I'm not in agreement with all of the latter's policies but the mister volunteers 3 days a week at one of their rescue centres, they're desperate for funds (and cupcakes) and I'm a sucker for a dog related sob story (of which there are far too many).  Boo is still deciding which events to enter. Little does he know that a pre show date with a tub of warm water and a bottle of coat enhancing shampoo is pencilled in his diary.

Ticks on the to-do list

• Christmas cards ordered from Cancer Research

• Advent calendars (including one for me) purchased

• Panto tickets booked

• Christmas pudding made (yes, ahead of Stir-up Sunday)

• Christmas cake* baked (well, almost. It's still in the oven.)  

Think I'll just have a little lie down.

 

* Recipe from this book

Gone to the dogs

The Mister here volunteers at the local RSPCA animal centre and today was their annual summer gala. He was on car park duty (after his usual dog related tasks).  My job was to make cupcakes for the tea tent.

If you're wondering, those black blobs are meant to be Scottie dogs. Whilst I stuck to my usual decorations, I wanted to have some canine themed cakes so made these.

The gala is obviously a fundraising event but it's also an opportunity for rehomed dogs to make a return visit and take part in fun competitions .  These are some of the entrants for "The Dog The Inspector Would Most Like To Take Home".

Then it was time to practice for a game of Musical Sit based on that old party favourite, Musical Chairs. Hilarious.

The Boy and I made a sharp exit before the start of The Dog With The Most Moving Rescue Story judging.  He didn't want to be embarassed by my inevitable weeping.

On the way to the car we passed the American miniature horses.

Now I do like a well dressed miniature horse.

Grand tea party update

(Illustration of the Mad Tea Party by John Tenniel)

 

Cakes, sandwiches, scones and biscuits were sold and eaten.

Tea was poured and sipped.

The weight of the beautifully iced fruit cake was estimated.

Raffle tickets were bought.

The soft toy Meerkat's (yes, from that TV advert) name was guessed.

£2150 was raised.

 

Between the four of us here, we scooped two bottles of wine, a bottle of champagne and a candle set in the raffle.

Oh yes, and the Gorgeous Girlie won the Meerkat.  His name?  Marmaduke.

 

Cupcakes for Eve

Last night was mostly spent in the kitchen, whipping up some sparkly cupcakes for a Giant Tea Party at work later today.  The event has been organised by some of our admin staff and is aimed at raising money for The Eve Appeal which was set up to fund groundbreaking research into gynaecological cancers.

This is a charity I'm very keen to support, not least because of my recent history, and anything which furthers the awareness, detection and treatment of women's cancers, and ultimately helps save women's lives, has to be a worthy cause.

Not everyone is aware of all of the gynaecological cancers (for instance, in my own case, two GPs didn't recognise the symptoms for what they were) and the Eve Appeal is addressing those gaps.

The Gorgeous Girlie is on her way from Manchester to add her support to the event which promises to be very successful (I'm told £1300 has been donated in advance).  And who could object to a Giant Tea Party on a blustery Friday afternoon?  Not me!