January Blues

Hearth-Father is in the throes of some sort of mid-life crisis.

We have a rowing machine in our bedroom.

Alcohol is but a distant memory, 'carbohydrate' has become a dirty word, sugar is the devil's work.
In a thank you letter to friends who invited us for supper last weekend, I felt the need to apologise for our 'uncharacteristic sobriety' and promise that it wouldn't happen again. 'Microbiome' has entered our vocabulary.

In the sixteen years that we have been together I have never known Hearth-Father come home from work and not have a glass of cider. Men's Health magazine has a lot to answer for.

Time to take stock as we near the end of our self-imposed Dry January.

I should be pounds heavier in the bank from all of the money saved from not buying wine. Surely?
I should be pounds lighter in the flesh from all the healthy eating...?

Neither.

And, for some reason, I seem to shout at the kids more.

Roll on February.



Currently reading: The Gut Makeover by Jeanette Hyde (in keeping with the theme)

Festival Fever

The summer of festival fun has begun. First stop was the Hay Festival.

"There's no such thing as fun for all the family," is, I believe, a Jerry Seinfeld quote, and something I have thus far held to be true.

Going to the Hay Literary Festival was a twenty year ambition of mine and when I finally  made it last year, I determined to bring the family back to experience it as soon as I could.  Accommodation is at a premium in the little town during festival time and we found ourselves with no option but to camp. Our few family camping forays have proved...somewhat challenging, so when I was offered an upgrade to a 'yurt', I seized it.

The first day passed in a frenzy of activity. There was face-painting and cartwheel-turning and letters to climb and dinosaur stories and and books to be bought and ice-creams to be eaten and Letters Live for Hearth-mother featuring performances by Sandi Toksvig, Stephen Fry and Jude Law. 

 

There was even, and this is where we get to the 'fun for all the family' part, a selection of West country ciders for Hearth-father to taste. Though 'taste' suggests a little more delicacy in consumption than perhaps might have been observed in reality.

We were all exhausted at the end of day one and I spent one of the best nights I've had for months - in the comfort of the yurt's double bed with cosy wood-burner at its foot.

Even more to do on day two, with writers to meet and journals to be wrecked and faces to be painted, and a pub-supper. See, something for everyone.

Then marshmallows to be toasted around a campfire before bedtime.

Two weeks until the Isle of Wight festival (though we are child-free that weekend, so it will be an altogether different experience)...

I love summer!



Currently reading: Cruel Summer by James Dawson

Day Six in the Big Sober Household

It's day six in the Big Sober Household.

And the housemates have fallen off the wagon.

It began with a sloe gin, currently involves wine for Mummy and cider for Daddy, and will end...well, who knows?

I would like to blame the adverse weather conditions. In fact I'm going to.

We had no power for nineteen hours. No heat, no light, no hot water, no hot food. And whilst it looked more and more beautiful outside as a foot of snow fell, inside the picture was grimmer.

We couldn't go outside and enjoy the weather as we knew that we wouldn't be able to get warm and dry again afterwards and I don't do 'cold' very well at all.

We were four in the bed by this morning. It was way too cold for Gilby (who definitely takes after his mother) and began turning blue at about 3am. So we broke the rule and let him into our bed. What else could I do? And we couldn't very well refuse Gertie when she began screaming at 5am because there was no night-light and she couldn't find her door.

By lunchtime I had had enough. We do have an open fire for this hearth-mother, but our log delivery is due next week and we only had a handful left. Not good. So my husband stole a 4x4 from work and we invaded the in-laws, affectionately known as Grumps and Mumps.

And a sloe gin was just reward for finally building the perfect snowman in their garden (in the dark).

We will resume the January detox tomorrow, when normal order is restored. Ish.