Posts filed under 'Family'
I’m going to lay my cards on the table straight out - as well as beginning the gaming metaphors - and confirm that I was a bad loser at board games as a child. And so I stopped. Unattracted as I was, equally, to other people being openly competitive, there wasn’t much reason to start again. Except this year, for some reason I have wanted to play board games.
I still don’t know why it should be. Perhaps it helps that some of the board games available now are more interesting than the ones I played as a child. (I still hold a torch for Mine-A-Million, which allowed you to build up oil reserves, and ship them to the other side of the world. But what with global warming, and pirates taking over oil tankers, I don’t think that one’s going to come back into fasion.)
I’m talking about games like Carcassonne and Settlers of Catan. And I rather like Ticket to Ride, particularly the European version where I can distract others from my losing by being smug and saying “been there!” on some of the more obscure routes. Games which are different every time, in terms of how you make up the board, keep me interested - and take the sting out of losing, or at least of not winning.
Our friends Jan and Paul are good on the board game front, and introduced us to both Settlers and Mah Jong, though we clearly need to build up more practice on games in between visits. But the real shift was going on holiday with friends in June, and playing board games most nights. And liking it.
When you are a child, winning and losing is a much bigger deal, and having siblings to taunt you, or parents to point out that you are a bad loser, tends to distract you from even trying to put a brave face on it. A couple of decades down the line, and you’ve realised that there are many ways to win and lose in daily life, and so a brief stint at a board game is perhaps easier to take on.
In the case of our trip in June, it perhaps helped to be there with a very competitive friend, who you knew would win (almost) all the games anyway. This took the actually trying to win part out of the equation, leaving you focus on banter, admiration of nice design of board game, an additional glass of wine, and so on. (Obviously, if wine had been in the equation as a child, who know how many people would have stopped being bad losers much earlier?)
But I think the real reason for it is a desire to be with people. To do something together that you can remember, but that isn’t that big and important either, so you can focus on the people too. Perhaps the addition of a nice fire, or bad weather, or large amounts of chocolate etc, add to the picture of it being a very positive thing to stay indoors and be with people you like.
And for that, I can even risk the possibility that some competition might come into the equation.
November 23rd, 2008
I grew up in the school of “if it’s a good joke, it’s worth repeating”. I suspect that, separate from this, I am genetically predisposed to like puns, which are a form of repetition in a way, causing you to think about what you’re already familiar with. But the upshot is, I’m all too good at telling people something again…or yet again…because I think it’s worth a mention.
So here’s today’s moment: managed to leave work early, and include a quick visit to RealFoods. I’m about to go in, and smell the familiar health food shop smell…and think, ah that reminds me of the health food shop I briefly worked in…and then remember that I’ve already written about it…
Now admittedly, I’m not visiting the shop all the time, having that scent-memory, boring you with the recollection etc, on a regular basis. But I do forget what I’ve said to whom, or what I’ve written. And the more I think it’s worth passing on, probably all the more likely I am to keep telling the story.
Catching myself at it again tonight, I felt a bit like the goldfish with the 10 second memory. I don’t want to write a string of blog posts that add up to “Nice bowl! Nice bowl! Nice…” And I also know that I get to see plenty of new things, because my brain takes in the fact that they’re new.
Every year I deal with applications from people who have hobbies I’ve never heard of before (underwater hockey, anyone?), health conditions I’ve never come across. And they go off abroad and email with situations I’ve never had to come up with a solution to before. That’s all before I spot things on buses, or open the paper to find out about the latest whatnot we’re all supposed to be interested in.
Blogs are partly about novelty, I guess. You don’t expect to see the same story cut and pasted in, day after day. Perhaps what I’m aspiring to is columnist status, where you can actively get away with repeating yourself, or mentioning particular people, because your readership has got to know them too, through you, and wants the latest installment.
Probably one of the main reasons I write a blog is because I love ideas, I love the variety in the world, I love seeing whether someone else has come across the same, and what they think about it. And some of you even tell me, too…
Some of the nicest thoughts are like the first strawberry of the year. (Yes, I have a conscious awareness of the first strawberry of the year, and a first mince pie too, bracketing the year.) You’d never claim that it was the first ever. But the ‘first for a while…and good!’ is worth a shout about, don’t you think?
November 21st, 2008
Honest, it started as a book review, it is in no way intended to comment on any cabinet reshuffle…
Spent some pleasant time with Graeme and Shona over yesterday afternoon/evening and this morning, and discovered that one of the books in Shona’s recent acquisitions for her girls is Milly Molly Mandy.
For the uninitiated, Milly Molly Mandy is, as you can probably tell, very much a book that girls get to read at a youngish age. It fits in quite well around the Enid Blyton type stage. MMM (as I will now refer to her) lives in a little white cottage with a thatched roof, and has a series of shops at her disposal in the village. For added interest, there is a map of her village in the front of the book, to help you picture it for yourself.
I enjoyed MMM when younger, though to be honest any books that came within range were devoured from c. 6 onwards. Looking back it it, I realised I had to do a bit of explaining for Janna, my story time listener. Some of it is long changed: one of her friend wants to be a nurse, ‘with a hat with long white streamers’. Some of it seems up to date again: MMM helps her friend’s dad repaint a garden roller and a water butt. It won’t be so long until thatched roofs are back in, surely?
But after all, MMM speaks to all kids who want routine plus a little excitement. MMM has a group of friends, and they all talk about what they want to do when they’re grown up. MMM gets to mind one of the shops for an hour, and decides that, although she’d like to work in that kind of shop in the future, an hour is enough for now.
No one is talking of three day weeks just yet, as their economic strategy for surviving the recession, but perhaps an hour of work here or there, that you could happily stop when the owner came back, does sound attractive…
In these dark days, I do commend to you another childhood pastime which does well in adulthood: making up sequel titles with a given phrase. Perhaps it’s time to write “Milly Molly Mandy goes to Hollywood”, that long undiscovered follow up…
October 11th, 2008
Yesterday I did some half-hearted moaning about life in one’s thirties; today there’s another phenomenon that seems to creep up with age.
It’s well known (or well alleged) that women end up becoming like their mothers; I think the process is accelerated if you become a mum yourself. Facing tiredness or shock, whatever the cause, the brain seems to think the easiest option is to revert to saying what you heard when you were growing up.
Earlier on in the summer, I managed to cut one knee quite badly. Between shock, disbelief, and a fair amount of pain, it became difficult to say what I had hurt where. But one thing I knew: I was ’in the wars’, a family phrase which I hadn’t heard or used for some time, but that dropped back into my mind when trying to work out what had happened.
Sure enough, when I phoned my mum on our return, the first thing she said was, “Oh dear, have you been in the wars?” I didn’t know whether to feel comforted by the reference, or confused about being returned to an 8-year old state (or equivalent), where mums need a good stock in trade of phrases to say when something goes wrong. (This was probably better than her asking if I had ‘happened’ my knee - another phrase based on my brother saying that he had ‘happened his finger’, which then became used for other situations of minor injuries.)
The funny thing was, commenting to Dan that I was ‘in the wars’ made me look at the phrase at face value. In comparison with soldiers coming into the line of fire, in Iraq or Afghanistan, an accident at home hardly counts. And yet, in a child’s eyes, a big fall or something else upsetting needs a suitably big statement to go with it.
So, feel free to use it for your own mishaps. Or send in your own equivalents. Life has its tumbles, and if language has its comforts, one of them is having a good set of sayings to get you through a situation and back to some sense of continuity.
October 7th, 2008
Off to Peebles last weekend to see my parents - and go to part of Peebles’ second ever autumn food fair. Not quite the highlight of the social calendar that the spring book fair is, but a good enough excuse to go and support a local event.
What I hadn’t quite bargained on was that there would be quite so much emphasis on meat. Fair enough in some ways, given that there’s farms around, proper butchers and the like. But if you were a veggie and/or had problems seeing meat, you would probably have had to avert your eyes for about a third of the stands…
Other friends have done the farm shop thing, and shared out half animals, that kind of thing. I must admit I thought it would hard to fit e.g. half a lamb in a freezer - and which end would you get? But then we saw what that looked like, which was certainly a lot of meat. We’re even thinking about splitting a half lamb order with my parents to make it a bit more affordable (at least, spending money on meat rather than a second freezer). Except I have to eat some more brambles first. Or maybe make rather a lot of risotto to clear out some stock. Etc.
It’s all nice and green and Guardian reading of me to want to get local produce - which I do. And help farms in Scotland keep going - which I do. But then I see the prices of the food and baulk a bit. Even the veg boxes are more than I’m prepared to spend, it seems, which is a shame for one who really likes fruit and veg.
So, as ever, we bought little things - though this does allow me to plug the Chocolate Tree, based (I think) in Gifford, East Lothian. Not only do they do the dark chocolate with interesting flavours thang, they also do a proper Nutella alternative. They even boast that you’ll never go back to Nutella after you’ve tried it. Now the difficulty is whether to open the jar - and fulfil their promise - or inflict that on someone else by passing it on as a present…Food for thought, one way or another, if not as much food for the plate.
October 2nd, 2008
Sometimes it seems I’m at my happiest when heading from A to B, with space to think up titles for blog posts, or the like. After much deliberation for this one, I settled on black gold.
Would it be a hard-hitting commentary on oil over-dependence? Not really. An oblique Asterix book reference? Closer territory, though as I recall, that was about oil too. What is far more important to the world economy at the moment, is free stuff. And the black gold of the article is all about the joy of brambling.
Had a half day off, after my time on the exhibition stand, and by five o’clock or so on Friday, decided that a good use of time would be to head off to the cycle path, not far from our flat, and pick some brambles. Usually we’re off doing this earlier in September, but one way or another (ie rain), bramble plans had been delayed.
Life along the cycle path is quite pleasant. Cyclists were heading home from work, or on early weekend excursions. One chap stopped me to ask where my rucksack came from - this turned out to be a lament on the fact that he couldn’t replace his current one with a similar kind, and hoped that mine (which looked like his) might be a new one. There were a few dogs to say hello to, but mainly there was the fun of filling tubs with brambles.
When I was little, brambles tended to get used up in crumbles. Any juice left over from stewing the fruit would be kept as a sauce to pour over ice cream - this was known as ‘blood’. Very satisfying when you’re 8, and the attraction of it still remains. Equally, I had a birthday book, and on the page opposite the start of September (and my granny’s birthday) was a picture of the Flopsy Bunnies out picking brambles. (I think Beatrix Potter called them blackberries, but obviously you can’t be good at everything.) Being a bit of an afficionado of autumn, the conjuncture of all these things on adjoining pages seemed to suggest the essential importance of brambles.
I’m sure that if I kept brambling enough, I would be able to come up with some kind of complicated metaphor for what it teaches you about life, given the twin perils of nettles and bramble thorns that you have to overcome. It is true that the fattest brambles seem to grow behind nettles. Equally, turning slightly around from where you’ve been picking shows further drifts of fruit that you didn’t spot first time.
Like many things in life, the ultimate bramble patch is the one just further along the path from where you are…where all fruit will be large, juicy and easy to pick without getting skewered by the nettles again. But perhaps another, deeper appeal of all this is filling one’s storehouse with good things - and only for the cost of looking, and a few stings. Some entertainment comes without batteries, and some food is not vacuum packed within an inch of its life.
For both these things, and for switching off most of your brain for an hour or so, three cheers. Next stop, elderberries - perhaps in a couple of weeks or so.
September 28th, 2008
Shock and amazement - sunshine two days running! Pretty much sun all day today! Any time now someone’ll suggest it’s a Scottish summer (apart from the normal three-days-in-May kind of summer we come to hope for).
At any rate, it allowed for a bit of gardening yesterday, aided by my parents. With all the rain of late, I had pretty much given it over to snails, but lo and behold, there were some potatoes to crop, and a new plant to put in the side border. We may even be able to gather a whole three beetroot, and perhaps the odd carrot or two…
Back in May, I had a bit of a garden breakthrough. I got into planting vegetables from seeds, and tried lots of different types. Perhaps not the full Good Life - still had to be in the office during the week - but a bit more sense of progress in the garden.
Sadly, the slugs and snails appeared to have eaten more than their fair share. My pea and bean seedlings were completely nobbled. Lettuces did OK, but sweet peas (a favourite) also got eaten, and as a result, the borders remained good on leaf, but not much on flower.
Perhaps I have to take heart on what worked. I learned that I can raise plants from seed. I just need to work on helping them to survive…I also discovered that the attic is pretty good as a greenhouse, as long as I can keep watering things enough. We sat outside more than before. I learned how to make elderflower cordial, which worked fine with elderflowers hanging over the back of the garden. These are steps forward.
It’s the creatures great and small that are needing taking in hand - both the cats which pursue any bare earth, and the smaller beasties that can clearly identify flourishing seedlings much faster than I can.
Hopefully, my rhubarb cuttings and I can fight back a bit next year. And perhaps there will still be some brambles left, if the sun remains, and I can manage a walk down the cycle paths near to home.
September 22nd, 2008
About time I put another post out there, keen to extol blogging as I am yet not doing much of it just now…
Blame spring cleaning, early summer cleaning, oh there’s another cold snap cleaning and general furniture shifting. But, for a change, blame holiday…where we deliberately kept off-line.
Actually, this gets easier if you go somewhere which doesn’t have internet access. Scottish island, family cottage owned by great aunt (who is also a great-aunt) who isn’t online but keeps very busy in other ways, thankyou. Even though the island has a public access internet point, we managed to keep away.
This isn’t so hard: holidays are about doing things you don’t get time to do (or don’t get round to): watching films, reading books, eating porridge. Even playing Scrabble and drinking tea from pots (not directly, you understand, mugs were still involved).
It’s also about doing things that you don’t get access to at home: watching red deer from the back window of the cottage, watching storms (and strong moonlight) from the front. Going to the beach when it isn’t really spring yet, and having the place to yourself. Leaning out of the front door (which is conveniently a stable door that you open the top half of), surveying the morning’s activities - of other people.
There was even drama surrounding getting home yesterday - a call before 8am to say that we would need to make a 10.30 ferry if we wanted to get off the island that day. A wait to see if the second ferry would divert to the other side of island 2 because of rough seas, as it had the previous day - which would have meant quick moves to a bus across to the other port. Harder to achieve when you’re foot passengers, and the bus doesn’t go that often.
Thankfully going home by coach, though time-consuming, also meant we avoided having to drive in slushy conditions. Say what you want about Scottish summers, these factors are not part of our more usual visits to this island home from home.
Yes, we missed out on a genuine opportunity to be stranded away from work. It was quite tempting, actually. But we gained a story to tell, and some further kindness from those based on islands, who understand how easily plans, including travel plans, may have to change if the weather does.
This time next week, I’ll be preparing for travel with work. But for now, I’m holding on to the sophistications of cooking my breakfast, looking out of the window…and rejoining our book collection at home.
March 23rd, 2008
The home improvements continue…well, not apace, but at least they continue.
Part of the grand plan is to get more storage inside our wardrobes, and thankfully, the powers that be at IKEA foresaw that people would want to shift things around at different times, and created lots of nice holes to move new shelves into.
I wouldn’t put us as IKEA frequent flyers - it’s more like a once a year military operation, once we have secured someone’s car to make it worth our while. But I do love a good kit to put together. I do obviously let Dan have a go too, but I will even volunteer to put other people’s IKEA units together.
Why the appeal? Kits are good news for those of us who aren’t so hot on drawing, or cutting things terribly accurately, but still want to make things. It’s also quite fun to see things assemble gradually, particularly if they are a) big and b) handy for moving stuff off the floor/bottom of other wardrobes etc.
I tend to think that liking kits is also part of learned behaviour. Dad was very into model making when I was little, and I graduated to this myself in various forms: plaster of Paris moulds for various things you could then paint, peg dolls, soft toys.
Best of all was a model theatre - first you made the theatre from card, then you had a full opera and ballet with backdrops, bits to move on from the sides, fiddly characters to cut round, the works. I even learned the story of ’La Boheme’ from the synopsis they included with the kit, which comes in handy for watching ‘Moonstruck’ in later life.
Recently, makers of kits have been staging a comeback. Makers of Airfix kits - model aeroplanes and so on - decided to run an ‘experiment’ where one group of kids got to make a model, and the others got to play on their Playstations, or something similar. At the end of the time, those making models were asked if they would do it again, and if they liked it more than their usual computer game type hobbies.
I’m never too sure with tests like this how representative the findings are, but evidently a good number of the kids said yes, they’d give it another go. Besides, there are still kit cars you can make (and get a Q at the start of your number plate - a definite incentive), and even kit houses for those who want to build their own but fancy a bit of help. Onwards and upwards, see.
February 12th, 2008
The music collection is building up. Rather later than much of the rest of the population, I have also now tried acquiring some more songs via iTunes.
Recently I read a music journalist talking about converting his prized collection into digital format. Having it all neatly amassed, and no longer vinyl, or CD, to hold in his hands, he suddenly felt like the process of collecting was no longer what it had been.
What happens when it’s suddenly easy to find the items you want - even the obscure ones? Does the thrill of the chase diminish? What does it mean to collect when you just find and pay for tracks in a bundle, separated from their original ‘packaging’ as part of an album?
Others have written about the loss of the homemade tape as an initial sign of intent from a boy to a girl. We may not put together a ‘mix’ in our own way, but on the other hand, we can keep mixing and remixing our sets of favoured songs. And we can avoid buying the whole album for the sake of the one track we’re actually bothered about.
Another shift is removal of the need to do your own cataloguing. A feature of my childhood was my dad’s homemade logs of music, films and so on - the indication of careful collecting. Now the programmes for buying and assembling collections do that for you.
It does save the writings and transcribings, the noting down of tracks and times and even dates you made the recording. Perhaps some of the ’romance’ is lost, setting out and staking down your own musical territory. But the gains of arranging and rearranging playlists, and above all, listening again to treasures that were forgotten, seem to outweigh the changes.
February 7th, 2008
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