Germany

The high point of our recent trip to Germant trip was probably when the German lady at the check-in desk congratulated me on the impending birth of my second child. Oh no wait - I get confused (HIGH point, Heather, HIGH point). Needless to say that that particular dress I was wearing has gone straight into the goodwill bag.

Where was I? The high point, oh yes. Well there were a fair few of them so it’s hard to pick: It could have been drinking a coffee at Ginny’s favourite place for the sixth time in a row. Or perhaps it was when we happened across a German festival one evening where the locals raucously sang ‘Schlagen, Flagen, Heifen Blahgen’ (or something) as they swayed, arms interlocked, pint glasses full, to the band. Classic. Perhaps it was the third or fourth church we saw in Triers, one of those ridiculously ornate pink and gold ones which had detail and humour dripping from every eve and Andy in absolute rapture. Maybe even the schnitzels, bratwurst and warm bread pretzels that were on offer everywhere. But if pushed I would have to say that the high point for me occurred when Dave and I bought a Bratwurst on our final day. After the seller had established that Dave was an English speaker (no doubt alerted by his furious pointing at a sausage and the words ‘One of them please’) - my order of ‘I habe eine Bratwurst mit dem sauerkraut, bitte’ was so seamless that the vendor replied in rapid German, no doubt assuming that I was German. Those two years of German weren’t for nothing baby!

The trip was absolutely wonderful. We stayed for two nights in Cochem, a small town on the Mosel River about 3 hours west of Frankfurt. Mosel Valley = German Wine Country (with Dave and Andy making up 50% of the attendees this is hardly surprising). The countryside was simply breathtaking- it was as though the houses, the churches, the castles and the forests were taken out of some fairytale picture book. I half expected to see Hansel or Gretal. It was the clichéd image of picturesque Germany, and that’s the way I wanted it. Don’t get me wrong – I love a big city and I can’t wait to go to Berlin one day – but to be out in a little remote area that only the Germans seem to visit was… well… joyous. It made me giddy. And even though we calculated that after Fred, myself and Dave were the youngest people in town – and Ginny and Andy were a good ten years youngest than the next person – I wouldn’t change a thing. Plus having Ginny there, ready to take Fred for cuddles and play at the crack of dawn, was a wonderful relief. We miss so much being able to share the marvellousness of Fred with our friends and family, so I think I can easily say that having the company of Ginny and Andy for the weekend was the real high point of the trip.

(I apologise for the quantity of swan photos in the following montage. They were ridiculously cute)

Dinner on our first evening in Cochem, aside the Mosel River

In the background is Reichsberg Castle, the most dominating landmark in the Cochem. It was built in 1100AD

Fred's first ever glass of water

Germans being german.

The next day we took a trip to Triers, about a half hour south of Cochem.

The Cathedral (Dom)


Porta Nigra. The city gate that the Romans erected in 180 AD

Fred's second ever glass of water.
The Basilika, Constantine's throne room, the largest surviving single-room structure from Roman times.

The Electoral Palace

Inside the Church of St Paulin. I'm sure Andy has much better photos of this (considering he took a thousand).

Back in Cochem, at our favourite coffee spot overlooking Martin's Fountain

Reichsberg Castle.

i read the news today, oh boy....

Just a quick update on all things relevant to me (MEMEMEME. Don’t you people get sick of it?).

As those of you who are Facebook are probably aware, I’ve been a bit under the weather as has the little man. I’m absolutely fine now, as is Freddy - save for his residual hacking cough, which has meant more wake-ups in the night than normal. This unto itself was not a distressing event at all, in fact the fact that neither of us had been sick for the past 6 months is pretty good form really, What is upsetting about it all is that the day we happened to be listless and in bed was the day that Muse played Wembely. And the seats I had excitedly bought 5 months ago, were used by someone else who reported back that it was AMAZING. Murphy’s Law, I guess.

Now onto the big news.

Firstly, Jo had her baby a few weeks ago, little Fela Jack Hawkins. Ridiculously cute photos can be seen on her blog to the right there. So a big congratulations to Jo is in order. Interestingly a few weeks before she gave birth I predicted that she would have a boy and bought a card in anticipation of that. Most serendipitously (as potential names had been kept under wraps),the front of the card read ‘Hello Little Fella’…

The second piece of big news is that this past Monday Dave sold his business, (pending a successful shareholders meeting). Athletes1 has been bought out by a larger publicly-owned ,sports-oriented company. Which is VERY exciting indeed. Dave will continue to work for athletes1 and we are both excited about the new opportunities and experiences that being a part of a bigger company will give him. And I am so very proud of him. It is an incredibly hard to run a business, indeed the greater proportion of new businesses fail within two years. And for him to have built one, away from the security and support of his home town is no small feat. I’m so happy for him that the hard work he put in these past 8 or 9 years has reaped the rewards he deserves.

And the third piece of news is that I’m pregnant again.

Kidding. Sorry about that. Just got thinking about how impossible it would be to top Dave’s news, and my malicious streak came out. Mwa ha ha. No WAY would I be pregnant again now. A 6 month old who refuses to sleep and eat is more than enough for me thank you very much.

xxxH

Phoebe

This photo was taken by Phoebe's dad, Chris, who is responsible for pretty much all of the black and white photos you see on this blog. The Jamiesons are moving to San Francisco in a few weeks which is a bit sad for us, but good cos now we have a great reason to put the US at the top of our travelling list.

Fred: Month 6

Dear Fred

This week you turn six months, and whilst I marvel as each month melts into the next, this one has me taking particular stock. It is hard to believe we are halfway to your first birthday; it is hard to fathom all the changes that will occur on the road to that day. It is easy to see what they mean when they say that your children grow up so quickly – I can see, 2, 5, 10 and 18 on the horizon.















This month’s most worrying aspect to our life with you is your sleeping. Whilst I have always been quite positive about how good you are at sleeping and so steadfast in my belief that you will evolve quite naturally into 7 to 7 sleeps, it is becoming increasingly obvious that you will not go quietly. In fact, you will not go moderately loudly. You go earsplittingly. We struggle with settling you, we struggle with getting you into your cot, we struggle with teaching you to not wake up 3 or 4 times in the night. And it’s wearing thin. Whilst it is true that the unsuitability of our home (lack of walls) could be use as an explanation…this poor excuse has also worn thin. Children are incredibly adaptable, you should be able to fit to our home. The undeniable truth is that your father and I have cultivated this situation. For the first 5 months of your life your heavy lids were rocked shut, each cry was shushed and most nights were spent with your hand in mine. This past week we have therefore been trying to fell a whole tree of bad habits and started control crying. Some nights are ok, I feel strengthened with a steely resolve. Some nights are hard, your cries peel away parts of my heart leaving it raw and in tatters. All nights are tiring and have moments of profound frustration. The progress on this control crying (where we let you cry for between 5 and ten minutes) is slow. Two days ago you went with barely a wimper and we rejoiced at having cracked it. But last night you cried for and hour and a half. Back to the drawing board. Whilst I’m not looking for you to be perfect, I just hope we can find some sort of compromise. And if we can’t I’m going to blame your father and the fact he has passed onto you the most stubborn stubborn gene known to man.

































This month has seen you start solid food. At the beginning it seemed as though you dribbled more out than we put in, and we wondered what the point of doing this was. And then when more was going in than out it wasn’t very satisfying as it was apparent that you had absolutely no idea how to eat this squishy stuff we gave you. You decided that you were not going to open you mouth whenever a spoonful was offered, but rather, you would suck it through pursed lips. Which was frustrating and messy for all involved. But yesterday after three weeks of sucking you opened your mouth every single time and it was as though I had a whole new baby on my hands, one who enjoyed eating. My spoon couldn’t keep up with your tiny mouth. But, of course, things can never be simple with you Freddy, and it is obvious that you are something of a fussy eater. 50% of what we offer is rejected and the food that isnt only has a short period of grace. It is not uncommon that day after devouring a food (eg pumpkin) you gag on it the next. The drawing board is running out of paper.
















But it’s not been all hard work with you, not at all. You have exited the grumpy period I lamented last month and become an all-round agreeable little boy. Actually, you are flipping fantastic company. You now dissolve into giggles if I make a funny face or noise and are ticklish beyond belief (you get that from me). And this past week we had a new high. Like the smile and the hugs, something you now do has me literally shrieking with joy each time you do it. It is: shaking your head. Yes, shaking your wee little head. And whist this could be seen as a ominous insight into the toddler years, what makes me so rapturous is that you do it when I do it. Yes - I shake my head, then you shake your head, then we laugh. I shake, you shake, laugh. Repeat. And after two days of head shaking frivolity, you now shake your head at ME! Then I shake it back. Yes, YOU start our shankin’ good times!! I can walk into a room, catch your eye and you smile at me and shake your head. At the same time. A SMILING shake. The cuteness of this should not be underestimated (particularly as your eyes roll up into your head as you do it). You shake your head as you go to sleep, you shake your head when you wake up. You shake your head when George Bush comes on the nightly news. You rock, little man.

Vocally you continue to be the worlds noisiest baby. The sounds change each day, thrilling both of us. I can barely remember the little horse noises you made when you were born because you (literally) say ‘Blah. Blah. Blah’. I could not be more impressed by the fact that you have managed to master the sound of ‘Blah’. The brilliance of this has not escaped me, you must be the wittiest baby in the world (you get that from me).

One of the great things about having friends in the area with babies around the same age is our ability to learn from each other and get glimpses at what lies ahead. Whilst you rule at rolling over (But never to the right. Whats wrong with the right?!?). You are way out of your depth with regards to sitting. Although as I tried to prove my point to the other women yesterday you sat upright for a full 5 seconds (before face-planting) and they all thought me crazy. Then I explained that you had done that deliberately just to make me look foolish and just look at that smug little grin on your face. I later heard one of them dialing the local looney bin and enquiring about vacancies. I somehow doubt this is the last time you are going to go to lengths to prove me wrong (you also get this from me). Oh. And as I write this we are babysitting one of the boys (Leo) and he went to bed at 7.30pm, went straight to sleep and has not woken up. YOU have screamed yourself to sleep at 9pm and woken up FOUR times. I wonder if there is a baby exchange somewhere and we can trade you in for a better model*.

Dad continues to be a cool dude and he has been teaching you to run and catch and kick the ball. We have footage of this which I will put up soon. Thankfully you were not too keen on the golf clubs so there is hope.














It is amazing all the things you are learning. Imitation and perseverance are tools you are using each day. But one thing you obviously have a firm grasp on is love. Your father and I pinch ourselves in disbelief when you interact with us and return our unconditional love with your smiles, your hugs, your dribbles, your cries. I can’t even find the words to do justice to how amazing that is. We love you, Manny.

xxx
your mum

*that is mums poor attempt at humour Freddy. We would never, ever, ever, ever trade you. Besides – what are you doing reading this blog? Not till your 18, we’ve talked about this. Do your homework.

Book Ends

Tonight I finished The Secret River by Kate Grenville, a gift from Mr. Kym Kelly. Shortlisted for the Booker Prize, well written, suspensful and historical... it was BRILLIANT. And at the risk of turning a well-worn cliche, it's a book all Australians should read. Plus a good portion of it is set in the Borough, my neck of the London woods, with Bermondsey Street getting a mention. What more could you want from a book?

I also saw how Foie Gras is 'made' and don't think I will ever touch it's deliciousness again. Horrendus.

Fred continues with his daily marvels, a few pearlers coming out today. But you'll have to wait a week for his half-year birthday to hear them.

We're off to the Mosel Valley near Frankfurt next weekend to catch up with Dave's Parents Ginny and Andy which I am most looking forward. No doubt my school girl German will help us should any of the enquire if I play chess or what my favourite musical group is.

Must go. Eastenders is on.

Supersize Me

So I found myself in a Borders bookstpre the other day (imagine that! ME in a bookstore!) and is Fred bleating away for his all important feed, I took refuge in the second floor Starbucks. TO legitimise my presence I bought myself a coffee. At the counter, deperately tryign to smother Fred's indignant screeching I absentmindedly ordered a 'Medium' latte. I didn't look up, I shoved the money across and a dummy into the Little Man's mouth and walked to the counter to retrieve my coffee. What was placed in front of me was enough coffee to keep greater London awake for 48 hours. The thing must have 15cm tall. THIS was a medium?! WHen did this happen? How can someone drink so much coffee in one sitting. THe lesson (beyind 'Avoid Starbucks') was order small. In an age of gluttony, where value is perceived in volume and it's subsequent wastage, order small.

And as an aside for Goergia and Pete... this evening with the Jamiesons we cracked the Cranium casing and played the game for the FIRST TIME. Great game, inspired purchase.

Living the Life

It’s no secret that I dribble over DVDs the same way other women do shoes. And since the advent of Dave, although my purchasing of them has not slowed, the watching of them definitely has. And one thing I have probably not watched for well over 2 years is anything resembling a ‘Special Feature’. Until this week. I’ve found myself feeling a bit under the weather and therefore with no motivation to use my spare time cleaning or cooking. And as daytime television is an absolute waste of time, even with over 100 channels (besides the midday daily episodes of House and Scrubs) I found myself twiddling my thumbs. Yesterday I found myself putting the special Features disc of Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Mans Chest (having watched the film last week in preparation for the third part of the trilogy this Thursday at Scream Screen). And it was brilliant. With 20 minute bits and pieces on whatever took my fancy throughout the past 2 days, it was just a perfect little escape from day to day drudgery (not to mention confirming my thoughts that Johnny Depp is the most amazing thing ever). I am now feeling enthused about a future of watching the special features of many of my other DVDs. Life in the fast lane, I know, I know.

And on an aside, this looks good.

This picture is an example of living vicariously through your child. Grover WILL be the favourite toy, oh yes, he will. I'm going to sew him a little cape.

Food Glorious Food

With Freds increasing ability to amuse himself for small periods of time, I have found myself cooking a fair bit. This shouldn’t insinuate that I haven’t been cooking for the past 2 years (I. Do. It. Every. Night. Without. Fail. Even. The. Day. After. Having. A. Baby) but, rather that I am finally starting to cook in the way I had thought would be possible when I packed up my desk last November imagining a quiet life of simple pleasures with my beautiful, sleeping baby (Mwa ha ha. Oh so naive).

So rather than finding myself at a Sainsburys at 8pm on a school night, mentally running through the contents of my cupboards and cool boxes, calculating what will take the least time to cook and remain edible/vaguely healthy - I now stroll with my stroller to the supermarket, list in hand. I’ve poured through my rather large collection of cooking books, marking out future dishes, and now make it a ‘thing’ to cook from those dog-eared pages at least every two days. Now, by most peoples standards I am not cooking anything too revolutionary. But for as I have survived my tenure as our houses lead chef with a simple knowledge of how to cook vegetables, pasta and meat so they are edible, and with about 10 staple dishes on rotation (thai green curry, chilli con carne etc. – you know the stuff) - is is extraordinary for me. And whilst I marvel at those people able to simple throw things into a pan and make magic, I’m a bit of a stickler for a recipe (does that surprise any of you? Thought not.) Because I figure that they know what they are talking about. I couldn’t even begin to tell you all the dishes that Dave ‘the luckiest man in the world’ has eaten this past month, but I have to say – they were all pretty spectacular. I’ve sashayed from blueberry muffins to roasted chicken in milk to wild mushroom soup. And last week I made my first Indian curry – everyones favourite – Butter Chicken. Which was SINsational. Dave, who normally abhors a creamy curry, has requested it again this week and who am I to complain.

And whilst we are doing a food post, it’s probably a good place ot mention that for Dave’s 38th Birthday last Wednesday we went with Chris and Edwina Jamieson to The Fat Duck. (ahem – a 3 Michelin star restaurant that is consistently named as one of the top few restaurants in the world). And it was literally beyond words. We all agreed it was probably the most amazing culinary experience of our lives. I will put a proper post on all that including photos soon).

Hope all is well with everyone, keep sending emails and the like. And eat well – Food is one of life’s great daily pleasures.

Happy Birthday Heather!

Back in London, there was a birthday cake (masterfully decorated by Emily and Phoebe) waiting for me. I ran out of steam blowing the candles out, luckily two little girls were on hand to help out....

Fred: Month 5

Dear Fred,

This week we discovered that we share a mutual love of Paul Simon, particularly his Graceland years. Tonight’s bath was too fun what with me calling you Betty and you calling me Al. And then you ate your feet, oh my god did you eat your feet!

But I get ahead of myself here.

Months 4 and 5 have been eventful to say the least. You found your voice, you discovered your inner grumpy, you laughed and smiled and you traveled half way around the world and back again. And that is just the surface – I’m not really too sure where to start or how to make this flow and seeing as I just don’t have the time to worry about either too much, I’m just going to jump on in there.

These past few months we have met ‘Fred: The Grumpy Little Sod’. Sure, you smile and laugh when it suits you, but it is pretty apparent that you are quite a serious little boy, sullen, but ever-curious. You sit there taking it all in, you move yourself around to see whatever noise or light-movement is taking your fancy. You glare at me as I leave the room to make a cup of tea and continue to stare at the spot you last saw me until I come back. You like a good yell, a shrill high-pitched scream which resonates with such ferocity it physically assaults anyone in the room.

‘Oh Dear! Oh Dear! Darling Freddy – Whatever is it? Are you OK?’
‘Of course I am NOT Stupid Woman! I need to be held. NO. Not like that. Tighter. TIGHTER! OK. Like that. I am mildly happy now.’

But when the sun shines on your day (which unfortunately is at about 7am) and you find yourself in a favourable mood, you are an absolute delight. Smiles, squeals, giggles, full-blown laughter. Wide-eyes, waving arms, bubble-blowing dribble. Hugs. Yes, HUGS. I though the heavens were going to explode the day you smiled and that it could not possibly get greater than that. But Hugs, sweet little Fred hugs, when you wrap your mini arms firmly around my shoulders and neck and pull me in with all you might and nuzzle your head in my chest, under my chin, so I can smell your sweet hair and feel your little heart beat… pure bliss. And most remarkable about this is that as long as I am willing to hold you, I have hugs on tap. Hugs which can fix anything. And if we are not hugging and having a nice moment together, we are lying face-to-face, only inches apart and you are exploring my face. Touching it, stroking it, grabbing it, and yes, sometimes punching it. You coo away, so delighted that your new found hands (more on that later) are able to actually touch your slave. And like all things you manage to grab in your hands these days, you try to put my face in your mouth. Something you find so exciting that you ignore the logistical problems. And I quite happily submit to being slobbered and sucked on. Although after you deposited a litre of spit in my left nostril, the nose is definitely off-bounds.

Your hands, of yes, your long little fingers from which nothing is safe. Your aim is appalling, and your dad stares on worriedly asking me what my hand-eye co-ordination is and whether that explains it. But you are persistent and normally get what you want. The play station which you lie under is your bitch as you swat, kick, and pull at everything that dares to move. Your dummy? That’s a good one. Pull it out. Scream. I put it back in. Pull it out. Scream. I put it back in. Today when we enacted this tried and true game you actually smiled as I picked it off the rug and went to put it back in. And not in a ‘It’s that Slave Woman!! Yay!’ way but a ‘Tee hee’ way. I’m onto you Fred. You’re a cunning little fella.

And with your growing deftness in hand use, so too has the ability for you to shove your feet in your mouth grown. Now, you’ve always been quite aware of your feet and legs, from splashing them about in the bath to thumping them up and down as I carry you in the sling, but it has been a relatively recent development that you have been able to suck on them. I remember the day you figured out that you could do that – you hands had long been permanently attached to your mouth – but the expression on your face when you realised that you could shove not one, but TWO extra appendages in your mouth was priceless. It was halfway between sock and anger as your eyes asked me why the hell I hadn’t pointed this out to you earlier. So at any given opportunity, one will find you furiously lunging your vacuum-of-a-mouth at both feet, rolling about like an up-turned turtle. This in turn has led to you rolling over. Turtle-back Fred frequently found himself on his tummy and after a few calculations, you realised that this was something that could be done... ON DEMAND. Which has bought about the advent of ‘Rolling Fred’. Changing you nappy? Nope – Let’s Roll. Putting your clothes on? Hmmm... Perhaps A Roll is called for. Going to Sleep? Hell No Woman – Watch me Roll. Rather than being excited by this baby milestone, I find myself dreading the fact that crawling (which you give a red hot go to every time you are on your tummy) and walking are not too far in the future. I find myself wondering whether it is cruel to hope that you might continue to develop mentally but remain my little huggy, stationary, jelly bean.

You met your extended family this past month and we can safely say that they agree with us that you are a little legend. You bravely went from only two people in your life to being passed around to pretty much every person in Adelaide. And whilst you fell in love a fair few times (pretty much always with a female, you sly dog) you fell more in love with your dad and I. Whilst I obviously benefit from being the constant face in your face, you dad has reached new heights of coolness these past few weeks. He simply has to walk into the room and you dissolve into rather unpleasant (yet happy) shrieks and dribbling so profuse I worry that you might shrivel up from dehydration. Yes – your dad is one fun man to be around.
























So summer is almost upon us, and with my new picnic rug, many opportunities await. We are due to start solids sometime in the next month and no doubt you will take to that with your usual aplomb. By my estimation, you are a pretty easy baby, and if we can look beyond an inability to settle yourself (largely due to the complacency/weakness of your parents), there is very little to moan about.

I will leave you with today’s discovery: A mutual appreciation of musicals. As I folded and hung today’s washing, we played all my musical CDs. I sang along and you beamed and dribbled away in wonder. And we can safely say that Aladdin is by far and away your favourite. Your dad breathed a sight of relief with this as the other contenders were My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music and Hair. I did, however, neglect to point out to him that you were particularly enamoured with the female vocals on A Whole New World, but some things are best left unsaid. Next Month? Well…. No doubt I it will involve buying all the great animated films from Toy Story to Tarzan…. *sigh* It’s tough spending time with you, my darling Fred.

UPDATE: I somehow have forgotten to mention Baby Einstein. Which really should have teed off this entry and been written in capitals, italics, bold with an underlined. It has revolutionised our world. Baby Einstein is the shit.

an explanation on why this blog has gone a bit quiet...

My Birthday: Part One - The Pub

On the first day of my birthday celebrations we headed out to a local pub - The Robin Hood - for some dinner and a few drinks. I'm not normally one to spread my birthday over a few days (ah-hem!) but the culmination of a number of factors: welcome back to adelaide, built-in gandparent babysitters, a celebration of my return to drinking and the fact that my actual birthday fell on Good Friday (when all drinking extablisments are closed), meant that more than one occassion was called for. These photos should start to explain why it was that on the following day, at my birthday bbq, I nursed orange juices and water all day long.

It was an excellent birthday this year - a 10 out of 10 - I had the most amazing time and thank you to everyone who helped me celebrate it. It would not have been the same without you. We kicked off at 8pm and had until midnight when the pub kicked us out. I did myself proud in those short 4 hours. By the time 12 rolled around, I was flitting round from person to person, taking photos (and saying 'straight to the blog for this one') and trying to convince everyone to continue the party back at the 'SHED! SHED! SHED!'....

Nancy and her 'Work Colleague' Peter.

Georgia don't do nothing by halves.

Eleanor and Sam. Before he passed out in his car.

No Pete, that is not Elle McPhearson! It's Olivia my sister you nincompoop!

SMILE!! Aww, Rach, Jackie and Todd head straight to the blog with this shot.

My sexy little Dave, some random tall dude and Ricey. This was the only publishable photo of Ricey as in all the others he was trying to have his way with my man.

Eleanor and Kate. Or is it Kate and Eleanor? Im confused too.

See!? Eleanor CAN take an average photo. She isnt healped by standing next to a SUPERmodel.

Craig McLachlan and his groupies. He's still got it!

Nancy regrets leaving her calculator at home. She did not expect Pete to ask her to say her 26 times tables and is embarrassed to be stumped on 34 x 26 (it's 884 Nancy! Duh!)

Eleanor sticks her gargantuian head in the frame at the last minute.

Two old men.

Not the best photo of Rach adn Jackie, but this is probably a good thing seeing as your eyes would probably start to bleed if it was a true likeness (bleed in a good way)

Jess bought Heather a pretty red bag which she uses ALL the time and gets comments on. In fact, she gets so many comments she has stopped telling people that it was a gift and started saying 'I Know, I saw it and couldn't resist etc.'

Nancy and her 'old friend' Lachy.

We both look way more sober than we are. We have eachother in a vice-like grip of support.

Sooo... what happened next? Did Heather convince the pub to go back to the SHED! SHED! SHED!?? or Did Heather go home to be with Fred? You'll have to wait for the next exciting installment.....

Today's Lesson:

Its admittedly pretty sad, but I go through my day often wondering what the next post will be about. These past few days have been no exception. I've been thinking about my next entry - in fact this very entry - I can't pull myself away from wanting to talk about Mascara. I know, I know. A card carrying member of the 1st world, I am. But I keep coming back to it, its driving me insane and I have come to the conclusion that unless I share it, it may never go away. So here it is:

Mascara:
I wear very little make-up - in fact, besides the white sealant I put under my eyes each morning to cover up the bags that developed from 5 months of crap sleep, the only make-up I do wear is mascara. And on Monday I bought mascara so good that it has transcended my mistake of buying it in a brown shade. YES – it’s that good. Now I know that the cosmetic savvy people in the world will probably roll-their-eyes-DUH! (as apparently this is well known as THE mascara to have), Max Factor’s Masterpiece Mascara is dope. It’s the best stuff (by) far I have ever come across, so good that it would be a crime for me not to give it it’s own blog.. I find myself removing the mascara, at some point during the day, simply so I can re-apply it.

PHEW! Thank god I got that out of my system. Im slightly embarrassed by it, but I don’t think I had much choice but to write it.. Maybe I can move on now.

All is well. Cooked a very British (well, Irish) Corned Beef with mashed potatoes and brussel sprouts last night and going to make carrot and coriander soup tonight, using the new hand mixer I bought the other day (In anticipation of Fred’s imminent move into solids). I went to Scream Screen this morning with a fellow mum, Pascale, and we saw that German flick that everyone is raving about ‘The Lives of Others’ and thoroughly enjoyed it. Probably the best movie I have seen in quite a while. Mind you, the last two films I’ve seen were 300 (OH.MY.GOD.AVOID.THIS.AVOID.THIS) and Hot Fuzz (pretty good).

THat 'WhatI'm Reading' picture ot the right is making me feel guilty. Because I haven't really opened it since I got through the first few pages just before I left Adelaide... Hmmm. Maybe those pics are a bad idea. Eh! - I'm full of them so whats one more?

Back in London

Well I’m back in London now and I’ve composed this blog entry numerous times in my head over these past few days, with each version dependant on my mood. For example, at about hour 22 of my travel back to London, as I stood in the aisle of a packed economy class, with my hair in every direction, my clothes subtly soaked in sweat, and as I desperately rocked Fred back and forward trying to get him to sleep – SLEEP!! OH DEAR GOD CHILD! SLEEEEP! - I composed a rather vicious and bitter email which was almost wholly about Dave not coming to the airport to pick us up as it was too ‘complicated’ (although it’s not too complicated to get himself to the driving range twice in the week he has been back). I then composed a similar blog in my head upon my return to our house where I discovered the clothes washing I did a month ago still out, not an ounce of food in the house and the showerhead so full of limescale that only three of the sprinkler holes were capable of letting water through them (interpretation: many easily solved problems awaiting my return. Thankfully Dave had found the time to polish his golf shoes). But alas, my scathing words were forever kicked to the side when he handed my second birthday present (after the gift-that-keeps-giving – ‘THE knife sharpener’) of a ga-zillion gigabited iPod. Yes, I CAN be bought. So any of you out there wanting a few words written about you on this popular blog of mine need only send a cash donation.

Anyway, we are back now. I have recovered from the hardest flight of my life, have unpacked and done all the washing and filled the pantry with yummy foods. Fred’s abilities and company continues to accelerate and each day something small, but amazing happens. I am aware that I did not write anything for his 4 month old blog (seeing as I was too busy celebrating my 312th month) and can assure you that a mega 5 month old blog is on the cards. As is all the photos and stories of my trip. Although photos may have to wait as I seem to have forgotten on of the CDs of photos I took and therefore need to have it sent to me.

It feels very normal to be back here and I’ve realize that this must be because London now feels like home. Of course Adelaide does and always will, but now London has a special place in my heart. On Friday Fred and I walked to the Borough market to get the ingredients to a dinner I cooked last night for the Jamiesons (roast rump of Lamb on a herb cous cous with a spiced aubergine puree,) and I experienced the joy and comfort you get when you return to doing something old and familiar. Sitting and having a coffee and Monmouth, smugly watching the world shop by in their bugaboos laden with organic pates and miniature fair trade figs… it felt good.

We are slowly getting over our jet lag and Fred is almost back to normal sleep patterns. He’s going to bed around 6 or 7 pm (getting up for a feed around 3) and then waking up at 6am. I’m hoping to push that wake up time to 8am as it was before, but to be honest I’m not sure whether I can seeing as the sun is coming up pretty damn early at the moment. To be honest I’ve not really had too much time to reflect on how I feel about leaving Adelaide as soon as I said my teary goodbyes at the airport I was thrown straight into 24 hours of trying to keep Fred quiet (and avoid the scorn of my fellow travelers) and then getting back on our feet here. The closest I came to shedding a tear since then was when I opened the most amazing and enormous package sent by Georgia and Pete that was awaiting my return (THANK YOU). But alas – I couldn’t even do it then as the sugar from all the fantales, minties, fruit chocs and twisties had me running circles around the room yipping with delight.

Anyhow – I hope to get a bit more up here in the near future and Fred has told me he is keen to put some photos on his blog. This week I’m planning on doing a bit of shopping for some stuff Fred needs and next weekend we are going to give Fred a go on solids. In theory.

Victor Harbor

These are a few Pics from Dave's family's property down at Victor Harbor - a seaside town about an hour south of Adelaide. They have the most incredible spot and beautiful (electricity free!) house. To come from London and go here for a few days when we first arrived was the greatest therapy - Would you look at that view!!!

How Do You Like Them Apples:

Not posting much, am I? Not much fun for you uncommenting viewers out there is it? You feel sad each time you check and you see nothing new.

But basically: I have a life again. A LIFE. one where I drive, I see friends and family, and I go out in the evening sans the little man. It is awesome. It is the best thing ever. I do not want to leave. The sun is shining and HURRUH HURRAH HURRAH - Fred has started to go to sleep at 8pm and sleep through to 8pm with one wake-up for a feed around 4am. We have our evenings back!! I can't even begin to say how this has revolutionised our life. We pray that it will continue back in England, and we are not praying people.

Anyway - not much to say other than Fred was awesom on the plane, Fred is awsome with all the hundreds of strange new people, and I have eaten a port elliot bakery veggie and cheese pastie with and a farmer's union iced coffee drink. Together. CHerry Ripes, caramello coalas, cibo coffee and gelati, watsonia cheese and king island roaring forties blue, copers pale sparking, draft and light, golden gaytimes, harbour town including everythign under $10 Valley Girl. Summer rolls, Honey logs, AFL, sunshine. SUNSHINE. Dates with dave.. you name it, it is happening.

A full report will be written upon my return.