Aldeburgh, Suffolk

In a last minute flurry of activity we booked a small cottage in Suffolk for the long weekend just gone. And it was awesome. The town was cute, the cottage beyond our expectations, the sense of relaxation was just what we called for. The weather? Well. Pretty appalling actually. The first day was the text book example of an idyllic English summer day, but the two that followed were the more realistic illustrations. It rained and blew a gale non-stop. Which was unsurprising seeing as Dave and I are yet to go on a holiday together where the weather is not against us (seriously). But this poor weather was - in a way - a blessing as in my current sloth-like state, there is nothing more appealing to me than snuggling up in a cottage and watching movies. Dave braved taking Fred to the beach once or twice whilst I braved the comfiest bed I had ever slept in, a cup of tea and my book. We ventured out to the local shops where I wrestled with the touring nanas for a little wooden train set and had coffee and carrot cake in the cute local cafes. We had thought we would go out for dinner one night but the fabulousness of our cottage and the food we were able to source form the local shops made that seem the less appealing option. Below are a few photos (all taken on the nice day as we seemed to forget we had the camera the next two days).

Totally cute!!! 'Rosemary Cottage' was on the quiet main street about 50 yards down from the shops (with insufficient curtains, Fred was waking up at 6am each day - meaning that one unlucky parent was responsible for dashing this distance through the rain with Fred to retrieve coffee and croissants, whilst the other got a well deserved sleep-in.... The unlucky parent being me on both days, of course! The morning Dave got up with Fred, he was unable to function above pressing play on the dvd player... till the point he could no longer keep his eyes open and crawled back into bed after enduring baby einstein 'world animals' three times. Bless.)

Yummmy cafe/grocery store where we bought spinich and asparagus. And a hot chocolate. We came to the conclusion that the area surrounding Adelburgh must be the asparagus growing capital of the world as every second shop or farm had a sign hawking them. ANd dear god were they yummy!

Bookstore where Dave and Fred bought me a copy of 'The Black Prince' by Iris Murdoch... completely unaware that i was reading anothe rover her novels (the sea, the sea) in bed, at that moment!

In a town that boasted a number of fish and chip shops, this one just across the road from us was KING. At the alloted 'frying times' a line would form outside the shop, at least 30 people deep. Convinced they must do the greatest fishnchips known to man, Dave braved the weather to return home with parcels for the both of us one lunchtime.... Really shit chips. Nice fish.. if you avoided the greasiest batter ever created. We'll just put this one down to another example of the english being clueless.

Even comfier than it looks

Cutest (and best stocked) kitchen ever. I could have, and did, lick the counter-tops.

You know you are out of central London when you have a...backyard! And yes, the cricket was playing from the beautiful old radio on hte table there.

The other direction, looking towards the kitchen.

Another angle of the backyard... It's been a long time since we've had a patch of grass to release Fred onto.

Speaking of the monster - here he is! All edible and naked and ready for his bath.

The amount of water the splashed out of the sink during this awesomely fun bathtime soaked three handtowels!

Lucky I had an Arga (!!) to dry the towels next to. I've never cooked with one of these beasts before, and must admit to preferring the immediacy and certainty of gas/electric - but insofar as making the little kitchen toasty during those blustery days and heating the house all night long, it was awesome. Country living indeed.

Lamb from one of the local farms (in fact, all the meat and veg were local and we agreed by far a couple of the nicest dinners we've had in England) and rosemary... from the backyard (it's not called Rosemary Cottage for nothing people! THough they could have called it 'Rosemary and Lemon Thyme and Mint and Basil COttage, but doesn't quite have the same ring'

As you cna tell - LOVED this past weekend and getting the place for a rate cheaper than a hotel was an absolute find! Unfortunately it only had one bedroom and with Number Two due in July it's unlikely we will go there again :(

you can have 5 minutes of my time.

Well, just a short one, seeing as I'm in the midst of packing for a trip to the Suffolk coast (about 2-3 hour drive north-east of London) where Dave, Fred and I are going to be spending this long weekend. It was a last minute decision, booked yesterday and I'm pretty damn excited. So too must Dave be as here will be the first weekend in forever he will won't have to endure my complaints about how booooring our weekends are and how we only ever do the same same same stuff in London.

In fact, it's been a pretty amazing weekend so far as last night we went and saw Chris Rock (an american comedian) play to a packed O2 Arena and it was pretty awesome. I'd not been to that venue yet and never to see such a big stand-up comedy act. He was on for almost 2 hours, and after I got over the two Essex lasses sitting behind me hysterically laughing at EVERYTHING he said (wait for the punch line at least you twats), we had a really nice night. It was great - an excellent occasion for a fatty like me who would be unlikely to handle something like a concert.

In fact - after having not gone out in an evening since we had the wonderful Grandmas of Adelaide at our disposal - we seem to have had a flurry of social activity of late. As the previous weekend we went out to The Orrery, a Terence Conran restaurant on Marylebone High Street for Dave's birthday. It was no Fat Duck (not that anything ever could be), but it was a really nice night (especially my truffle risotto mmmmmm) and lovely to be spending time with just Dave which didn’t involve the mundane daily life questions such as whether I had remembered to buy the light bulbs today (NO. I'm cooking baby instead).

Anyway - must get back to packing seeing as Dave doesn’t know where the fridge is. I've started a few random blogs I hope to get up in the next week (yes, yes, there MIGHT be an Alien vs Predator review in there for you lot). In the meantime I will leave you with the latest photos of my baking frenzy. Last weekend I made Dave a Pavlova for his birthday... not that there was any left for him to eat.

in control of nothing.

Over 10 years ago I watched the movie Edward Scissorhands. And unlike every other girl my age, I absolutely hated it. Not because I didn’t emotionally connect with it - on the contrary - because I did so too much. And because my brain let me down. Somewhere up there, in the mass of grey, a bunch of cells forgot to send the word to another bunch of cells that the fact it was snowing meant that yes, Edward WAS alive, and that NO he had not killed himself as a result of the small town’s cruelty. So until a year or two back when Miss Verity insisted that we watch the film again (despite my screaming protests) I had lived with this misconception and was therefore immensely surprised to see that an obvious and key plot development in the final few moments had escaped my attention. And in fact the film is quite lovely (although it would have been better if the small-town, bigoted jock-boys had been thrown into jail or in the very least decapitated).

A similar thing has just happened to me.

I have just finished the What is the What by Dave Eggers – an author whose catalogue I have read most of, and a book I had asked for and received this past Christmas from Dave*. It is the story of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the ‘Lost Boys’ displaced by Sudan’s civil war during the 80s and 90s. I enjoyed the book immensely; it was page-turning and eye-opening. However prior to reading the novel I read a review in the Sunday Times about how the book’s real-life protagonist had died as a result of an assault whilst living in the USA, just after the book went to print. So it was with heavy heat that I soaked up his story. His triumphs and tribulations made all the more tragic by the tragic end to his life. Upon the book’s conclusion, I did my normal thing, and looked it up on the net, seeing what others had thought, reading interviews with the author etc. etc. And it was to my great surprise to learn that Valentino is still alive and kicking. Not murdered. Alive. Breathing. Doing amazing charity work. And I should have felt joyous at this news, but instead I felt cheated. And that maybe his story was a little less poignant… which is completely unfair as his journey and thoughts deserve nothing less than our full admiration.

So I blame my brain. It obviously is faulty and I’m making inquiries into trading it in for a better model.


*I am so terrible about buying or coveting books. If I’m within 100metres of a bookstore, I feel a huge gravitational pull that results in lost hours and piles of books I’m unlikely to read in the next year (3 for 2 Dave!! 3 for 2!!!!!). In fact, a while back Kym Kelly suggested that I do a blog entry on my (rather anally arranged) bookshelf. I thought about it for a few days but after statistically analyzing the percentage of books I had actually read, decided that some serious reading needed to be done before that blog entry saw the light of day. As their ain't nothing impressive about a bookshelf that only… say… 55% of the content has actually had its’ spine cracked. I mean, one could conclude that I only have Vickram Seth’s A Suitable Boy on there solely to impress, I mean HAHAHA… HA.. who would… do.. mmmm… ha?

And while I’m talking about cows, I just thought I would relay an interesting insight into ME. Grand Designs is one of the very few shows which Dave and I will both agree to watch (the apprentice and jonathan ross being the ONLY other two) and whilst Dave quietly enjoys the infinity pools and sleek climate-controlled cellars, I normally find myself choking on my earl gray over the amazing libraries then collapsing into a kicking and screaming heap on the floor informing Dave that I WANT ONE.

Oh – have I mentioned that I have been baking of late? (Having never baked anything in my life before). See the sponge cake below. In you FACE, Nigella.

fred being ever so 'helpful'

a big thank you to beth (and her boobs) for whipping that cream.

yep, it's clean.

cooling rack? BANG!!

lesson : baking paper = not edible.

it tasted as good as it looked.

knife not really necessary seeing as I ate the whole thing in one sitting

mmmmmmm.

mum, you are the best most domestic baking goddess ever in the history of the universe.

married to the sea

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