tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19996618425723917432024-03-13T03:26:36.537-07:00Lullabies and LunacyNicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-44546365661753271232010-08-11T02:37:00.000-07:002010-08-11T02:47:20.797-07:00I love Wednesday mornings!<div></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TGJw5jrTbCI/AAAAAAAAACc/nyxQeFiDufc/s1600/018.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504085828731890722" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TGJw5jrTbCI/AAAAAAAAACc/nyxQeFiDufc/s320/018.JPG" /></a><br /><div>It's Elanor's happy hour. On Tuesday night we can send her to bed in a flutter of excitement that her vegetables are coming in the morning. The veg man is akin to Father Christmas.<br /><br />First thing in the morning she legs it outside and comes in proudly bearing her veg box. After breakfast she gets to announce the contents delightedly. And then she is allowed to destalk, wash and prepare the whole lot for the fridge. Occupies her for ages and I don't have to do a thing! There is so much more for little fingers to do when everything isn't ready prepared. Supermarket food is so frustrating for a budding little cook - it's all chop, and cook. Tough when you're not allowed sharp knives or near the cooker....</div></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TGJxaUo9seI/AAAAAAAAACk/UZ-TqTvxPaw/s1600/022.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504086391631229410" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TGJxaUo9seI/AAAAAAAAACk/UZ-TqTvxPaw/s320/022.JPG" /></a><br /><div></div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-23709578545089351762010-08-05T08:49:00.001-07:002010-08-05T09:06:01.175-07:00My little one is getting so big....<p align="left"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TFrgTtF-aeI/AAAAAAAAACU/VJm-rRttOgo/s1600/4734105418_0d25729478_m.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 378px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 472px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501956523913275874" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TFrgTtF-aeI/AAAAAAAAACU/VJm-rRttOgo/s320/4734105418_0d25729478_m.jpg" /></a></p><p>July, 2010</p><p><br /><br /> </p><p align="left"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/TFrgB63L6iI/AAAAAAAAACM/JROnJQBm5lI/s1600/4734105418_0d25729478_m.jpg"></a></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> November, 2006<br /><a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/8980674@N07/1879565234/"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-TOP: #000000 2px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 2px solid" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2228/1879565234_4308e008a2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><p>I had my big little girl fast asleep on my back in Didymos Stendhal yesterday. Every time this happens now I wonder if it will be the last time. She is a mighty three-and-three-quarters, and we are starting to look forward to her fourth birthday. She would like a party with a horse, and a cake with lots of numbers, chocolate flavour with special bacon. Don't ask.<br /><br />I know we're lucky to have wrapped for this long, especially as she is no small girl. We have exclusively slung for just over 3.5 years, and I think that needs some celebrating! Browsing the shops free and easy whilst she slept on my back, oblivious, yesterday - it was lovely. Although I am more and more aware of the *looks* these days. Brazen as I am in staring them down.<br /><br />One day it will be the last time, and I guess that will be OK, and we won't notice, and life will go on. One day I will teach her to carry her own babies. Apparently she is going to have a baby boy when she is a big lady - probably twenty - and call him Dylan. Not too long to wait, then!</p>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-52028860849895390332010-07-17T06:13:00.001-07:002010-07-17T06:13:46.748-07:00WANT! WANT, WANT, WANT, WANT, WANT!!<div style="text-align: left; padding: 3px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24620493@N03/4541391237/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4025/4541391237_a7d9755c26.jpg" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" alt="" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24620493@N03/4541391237/">IMG_2919.cake</a>, originally uploaded by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/24620493@N03/">manda2177</a>.</span></div><p>Could this be the coolest cake ever? It reminds me of something from Alice in Wonderland. It's truly wonderful. One of these days I might have a go at making one. Perhaps I can start influencing Elanor now so by her birthday she's asking for a rainbow cake.....</p>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-23635854732550867142010-07-17T06:11:00.001-07:002010-07-17T06:11:41.350-07:00FlickrThis is a test post from <a href="http://www.flickr.com/r/testpost"><img alt="flickr" src="http://www.flickr.com/images/flickr_logo_blog.gif" width="41" height="18" border="0" align="absmiddle" /></a>, a fancy photo sharing thing.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-75884075551733100232010-07-03T14:43:00.000-07:002010-07-03T14:46:46.789-07:00Sweet confusingsSee how many you can solve...Highlight for the answers!<br /><br />What's that flower?<br /><br />It's an Elanorflower. <span style="color:#ffffcc;">It was an elderflower</span><br /><br />What's that animal?<br /><br />It's a Hippybottomus. <span style="color:#ffffff;">Hippopotamus<br /></span><br />What do you use when it's raining?<br /><br />A bumrella <span style="color:#ffffff;">Umbrella </span><br /><br />Where do dinosaurs live?<br /><br />In the sink. <span style="color:#ffffff;">They're extinct</span><br /><br />Do you have a tummyache?<br /><br />No I have pasta. Granmum died of pasta. <span style="color:#ffffff;">Cancer </span><br /><br />What's that shape?<br /><br />It's a sextangle <span style="color:#ffffff;">rectangle<br /></span><br />What's that noise?<br /><br />It was my windmill <span style="color:#ffffff;">I farted</span><br /><br />Oh look the lady has got a balloon for you!<br /><br />I don't want a balloon, I want a waybulloon <span style="color:#ffffff;">argh cbeebies!!</span>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-53199362063367106862010-07-03T14:24:00.000-07:002010-07-03T14:28:27.894-07:00I'm baaaaa-cck!I've been gone, but I'm back now. I got through the probate, I got through my studies and sat the dreaded exam, and at last I have a little time for internet fripperies. I have loads of funny stories to make up for it!<br /><br />Here is some fun and fabulousness out of the mouths of babes....Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-58538701484388799192010-04-16T14:09:00.000-07:002010-04-16T14:19:26.030-07:00How to travel with your baby....<p align="right"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/S8jSwBie5xI/AAAAAAAAAB8/VKyDGebGFHc/s1600/006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460846270675347218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/S8jSwBie5xI/AAAAAAAAAB8/VKyDGebGFHc/s320/006.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p align="left"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/S8jSanUfAYI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hk_VT61hmDE/s1600/002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460845902860059010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/S8jSanUfAYI/AAAAAAAAAB0/hk_VT61hmDE/s320/002.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><div align="center">Put him on your back at the station and keep your hands free.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Then feed him on the train whilst you take in the view. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Simples.</div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-78042643449039318172010-03-05T15:35:00.000-08:002010-03-05T15:36:37.593-08:00FAIL!<a href="http://failbooking.com/2010/02/27/funny-facebook-fails-shes-board-and-alone/"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-3779" title="funny-facebook-spellcheck-ad" height="265" alt="Funny Facebook Fails " src="http://cheezfailbooking.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/funny-facebook-spellcheck-ad.png" width="459" /></a><br />see more <a href="http://failbooking.com/">funny facebook </a>stuff!<br /><br />Currently cracking up at failbooking.com....Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-62707468273289450452010-03-04T06:23:00.000-08:002010-03-04T06:26:45.800-08:00Pimsel Roffle SnortPopped round to a neighbour's for a cuppa yesterday. Elanor aka the human dustbin was offered a Dairylea cheese triangle from the fridge. She looked at it apprehensively - 'what is it?' she asked. 'It's cheese' said the neighbour.<br /><br />She took a desultory nibble and gave it back 'That's NOT cheese'<br /><br />My Mum would have been so proud!Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-90725716037204283292010-02-24T14:58:00.001-08:002010-02-24T15:04:35.643-08:00So, so tired.<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4019/4386101458_0057becb0a.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 389px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px" alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4019/4386101458_0057becb0a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Does anyone know anything about probate? It's back to it again tomorrow after taking a few days off the forms and phonecalls merry-go-round to cobble together a paltry effort at assignment 4 in my current course. Doesn't help that I've got a grotty throat infection, either. I feel appalling. I have accrued a large amount of death-related debt. My brother is making my life miserable. And I miss my Mum.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Add a smiley picture, because you've got to keep positive, right? That's Elanor and I at my Mum's funeral. Smile for the camera....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-73592160166872893492010-02-16T16:40:00.000-08:002010-02-16T16:58:10.533-08:00Things that should not happen...<strong>NHS sign:</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Family planning advice</strong><br /><strong>Use Back Entrance</strong><br /><br />as seen on Facebook.<br /><br /><strong>Canesten Duo (for thrush)</strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><strong>Allows you to feel yourself again.</strong><br /><br />Observed by me and I'm sure countless others with dirty minds on TV advert.<br /><br />On a more serious note...<br /><br />Those police adverts. 'Let's keep crime down'. I live near a police station and they are plastered to every lamp post. HIDE YOUR VALUABLES. 1 IN 4 THROUGH AN UNLOCKED DOOR! The recent TV and radio campaign inviting you to think it absurd that anyone should go to bed and leave a laptop on the table in their own house. Can't do that, that's just <em>asking</em> to be burgled. Uh-huh. Yeah. If you leave your things out in your house, it's <em>your fault</em> if you get robbed. The poor passing burglar just could not help themselves.<br /><br />I've been burgled. It is not nice. If a burglar wants to rob your house, they will, and it doesn't really matter what security you have in place. Whether you leave your mobile on the dashboard, or your keys in the lock, being robbed is never your fault, and I resent the campaign's implication that keeping crime down is the responsibility of innocent people.<br /><br />Can you imagine the outcry if applied to another crime? Sensitive topic....but valid, I think.....HIDE YOUR CLEAVAGE. 1 IN 4 DRESSED LIKE A...........<br /><br />But that wouldn't win any votes, would it?<br /><br />Yet we are supposed to accept this 'advice' as purely sensible? It is not sensible. Innocent people should be able to live their lives without this fear, this implication that if you do something <em>wrong</em> you will have rolled out the red carpet to any passing criminal. Crime is the criminal's fault and no-one else's.<br /><br />How about a nice new advertising campaign advising those of a dodgy moral substance of the consequences of their possible actions?Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-86718003820720815592010-02-11T03:33:00.000-08:002010-02-11T03:38:33.141-08:00Elanor's LBD<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/S3Pr1cLIZbI/AAAAAAAAABs/vXW0C2D1Mlc/s1600-h/089.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436948478494795186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/S3Pr1cLIZbI/AAAAAAAAABs/vXW0C2D1Mlc/s320/089.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>All black dresses for 3/4 year olds (if you can find them at all) look like they are designed for minature streetwalkers. True, black was not compulsory, after all I organised the funeral, but seemed fitting and was my Mum's favourite colour.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So I'm really glad I got a sewing machine for Christmas. One £3.50 offcut and a lot of bodging later, et voila. Elanor's Little Black Dress. </div><br /><div>I have never made a dress for a little person, I didn't have a pattern, and I haven't used a sewing machine for a proper project in ten years, so all things considered, it came out quite well. </div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-59164161784187927792010-02-11T03:26:00.001-08:002010-02-11T03:32:47.710-08:00Happy Valentine's Day!I was told, this morning. Yes, it's the 11th. No, he doesn't know when Valentine's Day is. So he guessed.<br /><br />I'll let him off, we have not celebrated it before, and we've been together eight years. Even more of a surprise, as he said. I got a large box of chocolates and a book, and I am just going to enjoy both in a hot, deep bath.<br /><br />Yesterday was my Mum's birthday, we scattered her ashes under a tree at Rawdon Crematorium. Elanor decided it was a christmas tree. Quite impressed with the turnaround, she was only cremated 22 hours previously.<br /><br />I am musing on a long rant about random articles that have been bugging me, as a return to a more usual blog format - but I think it will keep for another day - when I may, or may not, be more coherent.<br /><br />Thankyou everyone for the lovely messages of condolence.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-39071284298402423702010-02-04T16:18:00.000-08:002010-02-04T16:26:16.752-08:00How is it possible...<a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4060/4315519759_0de7e234ea.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4060/4315519759_0de7e234ea.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />How is it possible...<br /><br />... that my Mum is dead?<br />I'm sorry, that just can't be.<br />It just can't, it is horrible.<br /><br />My Mum is a powerhouse of opinion<br />a pillar of directness.<br />But I was there, and she could not face<br />her own powerlessness.<br /><br />My Mum is a force of nature,<br />a sheer clench of will.<br />But I watched her struggle<br />up the too long. Long. Winding hill.<br /><br />My Mum is a whirlwind of fire,<br />and steel, and strong.<br />But I saw her gasp with pain<br />and rage that it was wrong.<br /><br />My Mum is fierce, and big, and scary<br />- my under-bed monsters never dare.<br />But she checked herself into the hospice<br />where the bed-end notes give the scare.<br /><br />My Mum can't give me a hug<br />It would give too much away.<br />But she held and kissed those nurses.<br />Right from the very first day.<br /><br />My Mum hasn't held my hand<br />since I could cross a street on my own.<br />But I held hers for four days straight<br />because those seeds were sown.<br /><br />My Mum is someone who will defend me<br />to her last breath.<br />But I saw them. Rattling, terrifying.<br />and she couldn't defend me from death.<br /><br />My Mum is someone who dances<br />like nobody is watching.<br />But I saw her die.<br /><br />My Mum is angry.<br />And so am I.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-15519586254518474502010-01-08T09:28:00.000-08:002010-01-08T09:49:21.846-08:002010 and all's well<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2734/4257274766_3aebeed657.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2734/4257274766_3aebeed657.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4023/4257274014_fb4c5f6aa5.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4023/4257274014_fb4c5f6aa5.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4257113430_783538910a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2794/4257113430_783538910a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4002/4256350547_9bb3ce5531.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4002/4256350547_9bb3ce5531.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2739/4250595719_c7210afdaa.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2739/4250595719_c7210afdaa.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4066/4251367252_7c6dd0b496.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4066/4251367252_7c6dd0b496.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2735/4250593455_9c6e775a26.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2735/4250593455_9c6e775a26.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Just about, ha.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>Some snowy pictures for you, before I get dragged away by a small girl who seems about to combust. She is creating a rather interesting picture involving black paint and scaly creature stickers. Healthy, I'm sure.</div><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-63944006871362864122009-12-13T08:07:00.000-08:002009-12-13T08:22:52.462-08:00Eat your heart out, Kirstie Allsopp!<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2703/4155906319_50a008409f.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2703/4155906319_50a008409f.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2650/4156657558_5a4b0d7ec3.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2650/4156657558_5a4b0d7ec3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2798/4181150053_1a6713b234.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2798/4181150053_1a6713b234.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/4181149181_c8ea5f307a.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 375px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2754/4181149181_c8ea5f307a.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2520/4181150969_29dc70ffe2.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2520/4181150969_29dc70ffe2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div>We have been busy this Christmas time, here are a few pictures - well, here is the aforementioned pic spam!<br /></div><div>Our Christmas wreath, our Advent Calendar (with proper chocolates cast in our new Christmas moulds) Presents - the sock monkeys have been breeding again! And I spread my wings and tried something a little different - an owl for a good friend of mine with a special reason behind it!The hampers are shaping up nicely, this is a sneaky preview on what they are looking like so far....<br /><br />Raspberry Liquor<br />Plum and Pumpkin Chutney with Merlot<br />Mulled Wine<br />Sweet Apricot and Cranberry Jam<br />Caramelised Pecans and Walnuts<br />Elanor's Lavender Snowball Christmas soaps<br />Lemon and Grapefruit Soap<br />Spicy Sandalwood Soap<br />Breakfast for your Skin Apricot, Oat and Honey facial scrub<br />Chocolate Fudge<br />Cranberry and Raisin Fudge<br />Peppermint Creams<br />Salt dough tree decoration<br />Salt dough Christmas candle holder</div><div><br />Some duplicates and lots left to come, it's not finished yet. We've made everything but the mulled wine. There will be four full size hampers and several smaller ones given this year.</div><div></div><div>It's been fun, so far!</div></div></div></div></div></div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-11712158127357608982009-12-12T14:22:00.000-08:002009-12-12T14:29:15.849-08:00The Unmentionable....s<a href="http://www.shineboxprint.com/products/ready/unm/">http://www.shineboxprint.com/products/ready/unm/</a><br /><br />Oh, I want! Can anyone find them on a UK site? They are brilliant.<br /><br />If not I'll consider getting some made. I've always fancied having an officious looking card to hand over with a winning smile, but when you look closely or get around to calling the number it actually says '017ur aprick80' Not that I'm into text speak normally you understand!<br /><br />These have the edge with the funky little cartoons, I fear.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-27074710835475460742009-12-09T16:58:00.000-08:002009-12-09T17:14:15.626-08:00Frosty greetings!<a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2673/4173001720_5bfb4ec1a9.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 375px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 500px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2673/4173001720_5bfb4ec1a9.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>'Goodnight Elanor, I love you'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'Goodnight Mummy, I love Daddy'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Huh.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'Yes, I love Daddy as well'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'NO!!! MY DADDY!!! NOT YOUR DADDY!!!!'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'OK, you're right, he's your Daddy'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'Yeah, MINE. I love Daddy, and I love milk, and I love the postman.'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'I love Elanor, and Daddy, and I love the packages the postman brings'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'Yes, I love packages, and presents, and Santa'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'What would you like Santa to bring you this year?'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>'A postman'</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Okkkkkkkaaaayyyyyy. Daddy isn't even here and won't be until Sunday!</div><br /><div>Luckily for all of us I've had a word with Santa and his elves have already made her a Postman posting game. Very fortunate.</div><br /><div>Speaking of packages and presents, more are arriving every day including things I forgot I'd ordered, and I'm extremely happy with the bargainous haul this year! Highlights must include the pair of wooden dolls houses sitting under a sheet in the bedroom, along with three doll families and hundreds - literally, hundreds - of pieces of dolly furniture etc. One for Elanor and one for her cousin, cost approximately 20% of what they would have retailed for new. And even more penny pinchingly, I got Grandma to buy Elanor's.....</div><br /><div></div><div>And the lovely wooden set that arrived today, ooooh la la, I highly recommend. This will be my girl's present from me this year.<br /><br />Oh I forgot, I realised this blog is sadly lacking in pictures <span style="font-size:78%;">(and comments, I love comments, please leave comments, need comments, want comments)</span> so I have resolved to add some colour and illustration.</div><br /><div></div><div>In other words I'm going to pic spam you.</div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-77701093702614641922009-12-07T07:44:00.001-08:002009-12-07T07:45:19.434-08:00Lessons in cuteness (how to get whatever you want from your parents)How do they know, these kids?<br /><br />How do they KNOW?<br /><br />I don't know about you, but I have noticed a tendency toward the uber-cute from my just turned three year old. It seems so young to be that manipulative, turning the big eyes on Daddy, eyelashes a-fluttering, somehow absorbing the cute vibe from everything and parroting it back at the most opportune moment. Trapped in full-beam cute from the offspring, we the parents are helpless to resist, and melt obscenely into small puddles for the triumphant child to jump in.<br /><br />Case in point:<br /><br />We had a wonderful day yesterday putting up the Christmas tree. We had mulled wine, chocolates and nibbles, a roaring fire roasting the lazy dog and a skittish kitten jumping about at his first encounter with a Christmas tree. We'd made biscuit decorations with the neighbourhood kids, threaded through with ribbon. We put the Muppet Christmas Carol on the TV.<br /><br />Idyllic.<br /><br />I mean, short of tying Robert up and injecting him forcibly with a vial of Christmas Spirit, it was the best I could do. And it did work, to a point. But all my effort paled into insignificance in the face of a single utterance from the small child.<br /><br />Having decorated the tree, and watched the Muppets, Scrooge, and the spirits - with much comment and laughter at the funny bits of the film but not a jot on the soppier parts - we turned off the telly and stood and looked at the fairy lights.<br /><br />I gave Robert a hug and the small person joined in, he picked her up and we watched the fairy lights dance.<br /><br />She leant in, one arm round my neck, one arm around Daddy's neck, gave us a big squeeze and said 'God bless us, everyone'<br /><br />Tiny Tim, eat your heart out.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-32122113022613381562009-11-26T17:01:00.000-08:002009-11-26T17:04:28.281-08:00I've been workingI've been working A LOT and haven't had much time for witty banter, unfortunately. Not that it matters much with this abysmal corner of the web, having approximately zero readers, and showing my technical inability generally.<br /><br />I should fix that.<br /><br />So to all the brand new readers I am jollying off to recruit, please leave comment here to confirm you do in fact exist, and are not a product of this excellent bottle of Special Release Chardonnay........Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-63683454551523319552009-11-18T05:22:00.001-08:002009-11-18T05:22:48.722-08:00Waybuloo Conspiracy?I had to come and tell you all this!<br /><br />There is a conspiracy on CBeebies, and they are brainwashing our children! They are making them do *whispers* New Age practices...<br /><br />It's appalling! I believe Waybuloo is the most obvious culprit, though obviously we can't rule out subliminal messaging in the the rest of the programs - I mean, if they'll resort to <em>yoga</em> and (look away now if easily offended) a <em>sun dial</em> - who knows what they may be capable of?<br /><br />There is more information here in this excellent video:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYwYKVPnenw">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYwYKVPnenw</a><br /><br />I shall try to find out more on the subject. My first step will be to interrogate the talking Waybuloo character that Elanor will get for her birthday tomorrow. Must go hunt for the gaffer tape and pliers ..........Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-32361730917948021082009-10-22T12:36:00.000-07:002009-10-22T12:53:50.532-07:00All fancy dress manufacturers please note the following:Witch outfits are not supposed to be pink. They are supposed to be scary. Noone is scary wearing pink.<br /><br />Freddie Krueger in a frilly pink tutu - not scary.<br /><br />Michael Myers in a hot pink shirt - not scary.<br /><br />They are also not supposed to be flouncy, off the shoulder ballgowns. Strappy dresses are not for little girls. I've yet to see a witch outfit a boy could wear, and why can't a boy be a witch? If a girl said they wanted to be a wizard I'm sure that could be arranged. And who the heck thinks that wearing a nice strappy faux bodice out in the tropical temperatures of the English climate Hallowe'en night is a good idea? Especially for a young child? I suppose you could put a coat on them and ruin the costume. Or you could just hope that the sugar intake will keep them moving fast enough to stop them from freezing.<br /><br />Girls can wear pink the other 364 days of the year, indeed with the pink monopoly on the 'girl's aisle' of the average clothes shop, it's almost mandated. Don't dilute Hallowe'en with a pink rinse. I'm sure even the most precious little princess can cope without a pink skirt for one evening.<br /><br />I saw an article the other day entitled 'How to take the scares out of Hallowe'en for your toddler' Take them OUT? I'm dreaming up scares! Aren't they the whole point?! OK, I may have put a fake rubber arm up my sleeve and asked my toddler to hold my hand in the Hallowe'en aisle in the supermarket the other day. When my arm fell off she was freaked. I thought it was hilarious. So I might not be the best person to ask.<br /><br />Oh, and whilst I'm on the subject - Mrs Claus outfits for 3 year old girls, pom pom drawstrings and faux bodices - that's <em>obscene</em>. For God's sake just get them a Santa hat and a nice red jumper.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-20856599663464618002009-09-17T06:08:00.000-07:002009-09-17T06:14:33.071-07:00How to drive your parents potty!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/SrI2Hx4w0zI/AAAAAAAAAAs/n9CuFlQJ9Y4/s1600-h/Picture+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382424011939566386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/SrI2Hx4w0zI/AAAAAAAAAAs/n9CuFlQJ9Y4/s320/Picture+006.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rjmkOsRwmtA/SrI11u15J-I/AAAAAAAAAAk/3RbVht7JXjU/s1600-h/Picture+006.jpg"></a><br /><br /><div>Listen up, fellow toddlers, here's the deal. This particular piece of mischief takes PLANNING and FORETHOUGHT. IF you're not feeling up to that, please don't try this at home.<br /><br />First, what you need to do is persuade your parental units to allow you to do some drawing. Draw happily like an angel. But here's the thing, and it requires sleight of hand - pocket or otherwise conceal some of the crayons and pens for future use. I put them in the side of my backpack, so the parental units would not find them.<br /><br />Later that day, insist on wearing the backpack to go to the potty, and then take it off, so it ends up upstairs, in your bedroom. The tools are in place.<br /><br />Early the next morning, sneak out of bed, making no noise. Be aware that any noise may wake the parental units before your plan is complete.Retrieve the pens and crayons from your chosen stash-place, and set about the walls. The door is a good thing to draw on too. If the walls are a nice pale colour it shows up all the better. Draw some nice faces and practise your writing. They call it 'decorating', I think, and they're really pleased when the place is nicely decorated.<br /><br />Next - and this requires bladder control - do a very large wee on the potty. Remember to be quiet. Now, you remember seeing the parental units washing things in the big pot in the kitchen, right? They'll be super pleased that you're doing the same. Empty the drawers of all your clothes. Dunk them in the lovely fragrant potty. Spread the wet clothes out on the bed, to admire your handiwork. Then hang them on the radiators, just like the parental units do. Wonderful. They'll be so pleased.<br /><br />Now your housework is done, raise all hell to awaken the parental units. Announce happily that you've done the washing. Jump on their bed and try to draw on their faces to alert them to your fantastic decorating skills. Lead them happily into your bedroom and point out your lovely clean washing hangly uniformly on the radiators. Allow them to take in your new decor. You might notice that their lower lip begins to twitch. This means they are pleased. Ditto the slight shake to the hand.When you think that they might explode with happiness, point out that you've written your first word without assistance on the back of the door. And that that word is Mummy.<br /><br />Enjoy, toddlers. You are invincible.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div>Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-7394119155792306572009-09-11T02:34:00.000-07:002009-09-11T03:22:44.408-07:00The old versus the newSo, this week we've done a cross-country trip to enjoy a few days relaxing in a spa in Wales. Lovely. Robert decided to take his uber-trendy Sat Nav. I refused to leave the house without a map of the whole country. You know, a real map - made from paper. With little elephants on it to show where the zoos are, and little turrets to show you the castles. Wonderful.<br /> I'm old fashioned, apparently. Sat Navs can show you the nearest petrol station, accomodation, place to buy a Mars Bar. The wonders of modern technology can plan your whole route for you, and all you do is follow the instructions on the little screen. How uninspiring. How uninvolved. By Robert's own admission, it makes driving 'like a computer game' where he can see the next bend and how the road lies to judge speed. Great. Nothing like reading the actual road....you know, just in case the technology gets it wrong and you go headlong into a ditch...<br /> Of course, maps can be wrong too, and frequently out of date (mine was from 2002 and lacked many roundabouts we encountered) but what I like about them is the innate sense of direction they foster. Even at an unexpected roundabout, you're not circling it madly trying to identify the road number you require whilst the Sat Nav nags you robotically, you can take the turning that is signposted by (God forbid) an actual place name, or, even worse.....a compass point. Because on a map, the country is spread out before your eyes, not reduced to a tiny portion of screen showing the miniscule section of road you are currently inhabiting.<br /> I was able to point out distant hills and mountains, naming them aloud and announcing their height above sea level. I could mention when we were passing Twycross Zoo or Donnington Park. On the way home, looking for an adventure, I could spread out my map and see related distances, route possibilities, places of interest, all at once. A bit easier than attempting to program the Sat Nav to display tourist attractions whilst flying along the motorway in the fast lane. Eventually, the machine decided to take us off the motorway and onto a local roundabout, before directing us straight back to the motorway, for no apparent reason. Then attempted a close-to 30mile detour as he'd set it to avoid toll roads. One thing a machine will always lack is common sense.<br /> Starting to distrust the machine, when close to home and desperate for a break, Robert asked me how far it was to the next services. Working on a lovely 1 inch/3 miles scale, I approximated the distance. Meaning not only could I determine our exact position without the aid of a satellite, I could look forward on our journey far enough to locate the next cup of coffee, and using a highly technical finger-segment-measuring system, I told him 'About 14-15 miles away from here' As if to prove me wrong, he prodded the Sat Nav screen a few times, and grunted.<br /><br />'Hmmm, yes. 14.8 miles'<br /><br />Half the fun is getting lost, anyway.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1999661842572391743.post-85371590657726105292009-09-04T15:21:00.000-07:002009-09-04T15:38:30.404-07:00So, what do you do when someone says 'You should blog!' ?Well, first, of course, you deny it. Probably out of a mixture of modesty, false modesty, disbelief, and irritation. Irritation, of course, because of the 'Haven't I got ENOUGH to do?' instinct. Until you realise that the reason they are saying you should blog is because you're already writing blog-like posts, only without the recognition. So, in due course, your ego expands, you type the word 'blog' into Google, and arrive fairly shortly, although with a lot of shouting at your tintyweb connection, at this destination.<br /><br />Then you have to confront the complicated question - what do you want your blog to be called? Blimey. This could make or break the moment. This could mean internet obscurity - or notoriety. Eeek. As an avid reader of many excellent blogs, I paused. This is the definition of your life!!! A blog is merely a fancy tintyweb word for diary, after all. And it's a good job I never considered myself particularly rational or I'd question the whole concept of putting your diary out there for all to see right here. With previous disclaimer, of course, I won't. To define your diary, and henceforth your life, in a snappy and interesting title - that's more of a challenge than the introductory blog post.<br /><br />So, welcome everyone, to Lullabies and Lunacy. Succinct, don't you think? A fair reflection on my current situation as chief entertainer of one amusing small person, and a twist on my opinion of the world that allowed that situation to become so. Myself, a mother? I'm not even a grown up.<br /><br />If you walked down the street singing, you'd either be considered a lunatic or an X-factor reject. I'm not discounting the possibility that these two things are one and the same. However, if you walk down the street singing with a small child in tow, well, that's OK.....I mean, I few funny looks from the prudish amongst us, but most generally accept you're not singing 'the wheels on the bus' for your own amusement. Except for the fact that I usually am - the song choice is the small one's, the choice to sing is mine - and I quite enjoy the freedom to behave like a lunatic.<br /><br />Ask me again when she's a teenager, won't you?<br /><br />So, I'm blogging. Here it is. Welcome.Nicola Lawsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02361693779086446013noreply@blogger.com0