My rainbow

Yesterday there was a rainbow in the evening. Right outside my window. There is something inspiring about those colours, especially if they are set against a slate grey sky. I'm not superstitious but I think they are lucky for me. And hopeful, which was just what I needed yesterday.

Wednesdays are a very long day for me. I work all day in London, leaving home at 7am and getting back at 7pm having collected youngest from her childminder. At home, eldest and step-son are waiting for me. The opening conversational gambit of at least one of them will be "what's for dinner?" shortly followed by "how long will it take?". To be fair I should say that at some point later in the evening, usually after their appetites are sated, they will usually ask how I am and what sort of day I have had. I am not sure they listen to the answer but you can't have everything.

I have become an expert at uber quick Wednesday night recipes. As well frenzied chopping and stirring in the kitchen youngest needs to be bathed, fed a snack (by this time she will already have had two meals after school but she demands this snack as she knows I am cooking for the other two and she doesn't want to be left out), read a story and put to bed.

Added to this yesterday was one and a half hours of walking in London thanks to the tube strike. So I finally when I got to sit down and the rainbow appeared as if on cue right in front of my window I felt as if it were all mine. I also lay claim to the pot of gold at the end of it if anyone comes across it.

Other peoples stories

Today I made my risotto with tears in my eyes. Its not my story to tell. Its not even the story of a close and dear friend. But it is so sad it moves me to my core. My words are inadequate. All I can think to do is cook food for people who have no appetite. So, I cook for them and my children , with love and with tears and with a sense of appreciation of all that I have which is sharpened by another family's loss.

Today I wore my wedding ring on my ring finger. For the first time in over two years. Looking for some sort of comfort. Sentimental and foolish, I know.

Today is one of those days which will be more bearable tomorrow.

Random acts of smiling

I woke up today with a sense of irrational happiness. Looking at the facts today was:

a) a Monday morning
b) that meant that the lovely lovely weekend was over with the lovely lovely friends and the lovely lovely party
c) Monday is a going into work day which means getting on the train and commuting to London
d) And then getting on the tube (for which read fighting your way to overcrowded underground train) to get to the office
e) And at the office a huge (and I mean inches and inches) report awaited to be looked at
f) And its a boring report.

But despite all that I just felt disgustingly, obscenely happy. The sun was shinning (well this morning at least), and although I had to commute on the train it meant I could listen to the ipod, and read the paper and my book. I even thought I might see some deer from the train which always brightens the train journey. Ok I didn't see any deer but the point was I was so optimistic I thought I might.

Even the huge report failed to dampen my spirits. Normally in such circumstances I resort to comfort eating at desk. But today, despite the fact I had taken credit crunch lunch in with me, I exercised self-control and refrained from eating it before 11.30am - something of a record. Lord I felt good.

But I suppose the worst good thing was that I actually started smiling at people on the tube. Ok the first time it was by mistake because I was listening to a particularly funny podcast but it was such fun I just carried on. The range of reactions was so entertaining. From complete "I can't see the mad woman smiling at me and will therefore stare straight through her", to embarrassment, to confused smiles in return. It totally brightened my morning

On days like today I can take on the world. So today I can see myself fighting the local education authority and making sure that youngest has the education she needs; I can see that in his own dysfunctional way the Prince of Darkness does love me; I can see that whatever happens life is full of possibilities and new adventures.

So if tomorrow isn't like today I am going to read this post and remember how strong a little optimism can make me feel.

Thirteen for dinner

Isn't that so wonderfully Agatha Christie? Really this should be the story.

Not long after the party is assembled one of the dinner guests (a rather voluptuous, yet not entirely principled heiress to an international lingerie manufacturing conglomerate, called Miss Scarlet) mysteriously disappears. Brigadier Tartan quickly organises a search - all that can be found of her is a ruby red stiletto on the roof terrace next to her spilt Chanel No. 5 Rouge Noir nail varnish. Just as the hostess, Lady Walsingham, is about the call the local constabulary one of the guests volunteers that the world famous detective, Hercules Pilot, is not only a personal friend but is co-incidentally staying a matter of a few miles away. The well manicured detective arrives promptly and systematically sets about revealing the hidden secrets of all the guests. Cue long shots of anxious aristocracy nursing tumblers of whiskey before slowly confessing how they all had links to Miss Scarlet and a reason to do away with her....

Alas this was not my dinner for thirteen. Mine had no disappearing guests or Belgian detectives. Just lots of lovely food, laughter, a loud chorus of "Happy Birthday" at a rather inappropriate hour of the morning, some crazy plans to climb Mount Kilimanjaro, a pink watering can and several interesting stories about cling film.

The after shot...

Incidentally ask no further questions about Miss Scarlet and Brigadier Tartan....

Meet my new man

This one will not go chasing after other women (chiefly because he will be neutered). He will be both handsome and cuddly. He will not expect cordon bleu cooking and will be happy with dinner from a tin. He won't mind sleeping on the floor. Obviously lack of opposable thumbs means he will not be able to open a wine bottle for me but I am sure he can be trained to bring snacks. He will listen sympathetically and not interupt. He will have low Christmas present expectations, indeed low all round present expectations. He will do as he is told!

He is moving in in four weeks. Can't wait.

I want to marry a lighthouse keeper

Actually no I don't. Because for one, I am still married to the Prince of Darkness so that would be illegal and for two, my legs wouldn't stand it. Imagine how your heart sinks when you are all ready to go out an enjoy the sunshine and you realise that you have left the radio on. At the top of 126 steps.

But don't get me wrong. It was an amazing experience and something I will always remember. Things I loved...

The view from the top. Especially the sunsets.

The lantern room itself. The glass floor. The old lantern with a candle inside. Watching seagulls soaring past at eye level.

All the quirky nautical paraphernalia lying about the place. The ships bell. The captains hat and jacket. The diving helmet. The flying seagull in the kitchen (ok thats not nautical but it is quirky). The carved mermaid in the bathroom.




So moving on to the hints and tips for the would be lighthouse keeper:

• Remember to buy upstairs and downstairs wine for the upstairs and downstairs fridges. That way however tired you are life will always seem bearable.



• Keep a pen on each floor. Nothing more irritating than climbing 100 steps to find a pen.



• Keep some energy drink and sugar snacks half way up the stairs for when the glucose levels dip.



• Cancel gym membership immediately as all exercise will be taken in your own home and for free.



• Learn to abseil so that you can paint the outside of your own house. Lets face it the local painters and decorators are not going to do it.



• How ever tired always climb the stairs last thing at night to check out the view and remember how lucky you are.


• Only look down from the balcony at the top if you are very very brave.
  

And if you can't be a lighthouse keeper, or indeed marry one, then the next best option is to have a holiday in one. I whole heartedly recommend it.

A little post

I am a little post. Post-holiday. Post-birthday. Post-30's. Post-sandy beach feet. Post-caravan. Post-lighthouse. Post-climbing 126 steps to get from top to bottom of the house (actually there is a little yay there). Come to think of it I am also post-unreliable wifi connections, post-no hot water in the kitchen and post-being entertained by the giant fox and chicken. To top it all I am also feeling post-healthy having today developed post-holiday head cold.


The holiday was very lovely despite dodgy/complete lack of wifi connection which rather hampered up to the minute reportage. Highlights of the first five days were:


Crab fishing off Brixham harbour. We bought a couple of lines, crab bait (some bacon from the butchers) and a bucket. Then we sat on the edge of the harbour for two hours and had the best entertainment possible for four quid (five if you include the coffee I bought). We caught four crabs. All of which were named and promptly returned to the bottom of the harbour. As we sat and talked youngest was inspired by the view and said that Brixham looked like Balamory (which probably means nothing if you are not the parent of an under 5 in the UK) but is certainly the most eloquent thing a small child can say to describe the view...

We watched auks diving under water . That's auks not orks (which would be a whole weird Lord of the Rings meets Waterworld type experience).

Incredible. Mesmerising. I could have watched for hours were I not dragged off by the children.

And the one day old penguin being fed by mother. I would post the picture but it does rather look as if the mother is attempting to swallow her baby whole which even I find vaguely distressing and I know what I am looking at.

The food. Fish and chips. And mushy peas (I may have lived in the south of England for 20 years but I remain a midlands girl at heart). The fresh crab (not the ones we caught obviously). The devon ice-cream. The cornish pasties (ok we weren't in Cornwall but they do a pretty good job in the county next door). The locally caught fish.

Collecting smooth sea washed wafer thin pieces of slate from the beach. I have no idea what I will do with them but they make the most delicious noise when you run them through your fingers.

The giant chicken entertainment in the evening...

Note: no crabs were harmed in the making of this post.

Tomorrow: hints and tips for the would-be lighthouse keeper.