Life Lately + Chocolate, Crushed Raspberry & Honeycomb Cupcakes.

Last week, we received some good news. Really good news. Lily has been offered a place at the same school that Arthur will be starting in September. After four years, an almost-house move, and two schools, our daughter will finally be attending our local school of choice. I had almost given up hope and was trying to fathom out how we were going to manage the school runs with two children that were in different schools in different parts of town. But last week, we got the call we had been waiting for. The relief, to finally feel settled on the school front, is huge. 

I can't help feeling for Lily though - the 'new girl' yet again. However, at the moment she is fine about it all. Moving school every two years is her norm to date. The school she will be leaving is tiny, so it won't be that much of a challenge to stay in touch with some special friends plus she has a couple of friends from her previous school and preschool at her new school. All those old paths are soon crossed again, even at the age of eight it seems. 

For now, Lily still has another three weeks left at her current school, then we have the summer holidays before a new chapter begins with a new school for both of my children. 

**********

I made these cakes at the weekend for Lily to take to a birthday party. They were Chocolate, Crushed Raspberry & Honeycomb Cupcakes and apparently a hit with the gaggle of eight-year-old girls.

Photography: Buttercup Days

Eight

This weekend Lily had her eighth birthday. She'd been counting the days since the Christmas decorations came down. Some weeks ago, I struck up conversation about her birthday, asking her what she might like to do. Her response was 'I'd like a birthday surprise'. Good. I like arranging surprises. She'd also muttered something about quite liking the idea of a party, but reluctantly felt that, at eight, she would be rather too old for that sort of thing.

Anyway, needless to say I started scheming, plotting and planning. The result of which was the most wonderful surprise. A total surprise. I invited 8 of her closest girl-friends, a mix of life-long and newer friends, over for lunch without Lily knowing. 

I made pizza's - plenty of them and served Birthday cake and ice-cream for pudding (for those interested, her cake this year was a Rose & Almond Cake - really delicious with a taste that reminded me of Battenburg cake).

I made each guest (Arthur had a boy-ish variation) a crepe paper flower tiara (as seen on Oh Happy Day), and dressed the table with place names, grown up cutlery & china and jam jars full of fresh spring flowers. It could have been a wedding reception! Needless to say 'the look' and the crazy effort that went into it wasn't lost on a bunch of eight year-old girl's - they simply loved it!

While I was busy setting everything up, David had taken Lily to work for an hour, by the time she came home all her guests were ready, waiting and hiding behind the sofa ready to jump out and  'Surprise!' her. Lily's face was a picture. She stood speechless, beaming ear to ear, then after a moment or two very calmly and matter-of-factly said 'Hello'.

After Pizza, cake and a play each guest left with their pretty hair piece and a party bag and Lily sat down and drew breath.

On Sunday, her actual birthday, we had a day at home (plans to go out were cancelled due to the bad weather), Her uncle, aunt and cousin came over (another surprise) and we had a 'Lily style lunch' of Pesto Pasta and Chocolate Brownies.

A perfect weekend for the perfect little girl.

Where I Am, Right Now.

Almost a month has passed without as much as a short & sweet post on this blog. There has been no shortage of topics I could have shared with you: there have been birthday's, Mother's day and a very busy March so far, but I have held myself back allowing the opportunities to bypass this blog. The reason though is a very good one. 

For the last few months now I have been thinking and trying to work out exactly where I am going with Buttercup days. In fact it is more than that, I've been trying to work out what I want to do creatively going forward. Arthur starts school at the end of the summer and for the first time in eight years my weekdays won't be child centred (until 3.15pm) as they have been. It's a shift: a move into the next phase.

Alongside parenting and working for the business, the last four years have seen me writing my own blogs (Buttercup days is my second one) and writing for other blogs and magazines. The core of what I write about stems from cooking - something else I've done more of during the last four years than ever before.

So, I've taken these last four years and am busy working at transforming my experiences into a next phase for Buttercup days, one with a bit of longevity I hope. I need to invest time in learning a few new skills in order to move forward, so please do bear with me over the coming months if the posts become few and far between at times. Hopefully you will see the results over the coming months as this blog smartens up somewhat and gains a focus. I, for one, am rather excited.

Two Years Later ...

... I am still here writing this blog. Yes, It is hard to believe, but it was two years ago today that I typed my very first post for Buttercupdays. You can read it here. I never for a moment thought I'd still be writing: still having things to say. A quick count tells me that this is my 167th post, and that Buttercup days has had over 14000 hits in its short life span. To some that may sound a lot, but believe me it isn't. It what some might call a niche blog.

But, for me Buttercup days was never started as a 'business', like many blogs are. In fact it was the very opposite. When I started it I was at home full-time with a one and five-year-old. It was a creative output: a space to fill with thoughts. There have been times when I've considered stopping due to the lack of time, but the longer you do something the harder it is to just stop. So for now, it goes on. 

Going forward, I strive to write more regular posts, plus I've also toyed with the idea of broadening the content, ever so slightly, sharing things that I see that inspire me; design, interiors, my own home projects and crafts. I hope to keep the content varied, unique and honest.

So to all those, who pop by and read my musings: thank you. I hope that you keep coming back. X

Fireworks + Politics

Yesterday we took the kids to see our local fireworks at Hove Cricket Ground. I love fireworks night: I've never grown out of it. It hasn't been until recent years that Lily has embraced fireworks. We had a couple of false starts taking her to displays when she was younger only to have to leave seconds into the display as she was clearly petrified of the bangs and unfamiliar darkness. So it was with a little hesitance that we took Arthur to his first fireworks display last night, aged three. He told me that he really wanted to go and that he didn't mind loud bangs as he was three and could deal with it. He was right. He was so full of expectation. He sat, as good as gold, waiting for the display to start and when that first rocket launched and exploded into a riot of glitter in the dark sky his eyes were wide and his smile was priceless. He sat there drinking it all in. As a result, I think I spent more time watching his reaction than the actual fireworks. 

On an entirely different note, though equally topical, Lily today asked, in all sincerity, if she could vote in the US elections. She was rather miffed to hear that she couldn't. She has apparently been following the pre-election campaigns on Newsround and had already decided who she would vote for. 

It says a lot when a seven-year-old can clearly see who should win this election.

Summer

Image via www.designismine.blogspot.co.uk

Although the weather outside suggests otherwise, my calendar is telling me it is now officially summer. It certainly doesn't feel like summer, but maybe it will do by the end of the week when Lily and Arthur both break up for the Summer holidays.

I live my life by the academic year these days. The end of each school year is a pretty major thing for me at least. It seems only yesterday that Lily had her very first nerve-racking day at school: a little girl in a big school. To think that she starts year 3 in September seems nothing more than ridiculous: that's junior school years! Obviously she is growing all year round, but it is at the end of each academic year I really come to realise it.

Long-term readers of this blog may recall the difficult times we had just over a year ago when we opted to move Lily from her previous school into an local independent school. It was a huge thing on so many levels. Yesterday she came home with her end of year report; a document of sorts that would tell us in black and white if we were right to make the decision we did. I shed a tear reading it. Proudness,  relief, or a combination of the two: whatever it was it made me realise that we undoubtedly made the right choice. The report was everything I could have wished for; the best possible end to the year.

I do love the summer holidays. They are long and they can, at times, be extremely hard work. But I'm all too aware of how quickly my kids are growing up and that the next seven and a half weeks must be cherished. I welcome the break from the repetitive late evening routine of getting pack lunches made and school bags packed (when all you really want to do is collapse in front of the TV) and the early morning rush. Why is it however organised you are the night before and however early you get up in the morning it's always a frenzy getting the out the door by 8:15 am? So I'm looking forward to time reading books, museum trips, lego building marathons, baking biscuits, craft days (if the weather stays wet) and days on the beach, time down the allotment, play dates at the park and outdoor swimming pools (when the summer weather finally arrives).

However, on the other hand, the summer holidays are the busiest time for us work-wise: an imperative part of our year when we have the most clients to handle. So as soon as school finishes so do my three mornings a week in the office. That's pretty stressful. I have to try and cram in some work in the evenings or at weekends or else David has to have the kids so that I can go to the office to work, but he really can't spare time out of the office so if that happens he then has to spend the evening catching up on emails. There is no easy solution really. We have this every year. I don't quite know how, but we tend to get through it. Every year we say 'never-again', but the thing with being self-employed, particularly during a recession, is that you don't want to be turning down work. The future is hard to forecast at times like these.

This year though will be slightly different. We've booked a trip abroad. We last ventured on a foreign holiday pre-kids some nine years ago. Sorry Cornwall, but this year we're off to Spain for 10 whole work-free family-centered sunny days. Somehow, no matter what the weather does here or what work demands of us, knowing we are getting a proper break makes it all that bit more manageable. Come on summer: bring it on!

Digging

I just love the way a two-year-old's mind processes what they see. Here's an example. It really made me smile.

I was in town with Arthur the other day and workmen were digging up the pavement to carryout some sort of cable work. Arthur watched them taking it all in. After a minute or so he turned to me with a very serious face:

Arthur: 'Digging mummy, men digging'.

Me:' Yes, that right. The men are fixing the cables under the ground'.

Arthur (very matter-of-factly): ' No mummy. Potatoes. Men digging potatoes'.

Arthur's main experience of digging is watching David or I down the allotment digging up the rows of potatoes we grow every year. If I had known I could have just walked down the road, pulled up a paving slab or two and helped myself to fresh spuds, I wouldn't have bothered planting them.

Live and learn.

It's been a while ... but I've not gone anywhere

 Image: Tim Kent

It's been a while since I last published a blog post; the longest gap yet.  I guess it was going to happen sooner or later. I've been writing this blog for ten months now and had put up a least a couple of posts a week. So why no posts? I blame work. Being back in the office three mornings a week has had a surprising effect on the latter end of my week in as far as there isn't a spare minute in the day Wednesday to Friday; I'm constantly on the back foot. In addition to that I've lost my laptop during the working day to the business. We've got ourselves an intern and with no spare computer in the office for her to work from I've had to surrender the home one. I hate to say it, but I feel rather lost without it. By the time the laptop is home it's so far into the evening I neither have the energy of inclination to write. It's been a busy few weeks with many a missed opportunity blog wise. But such is life. I'm sure I'll pick up speed again soon.

A Morning That Turned Out Better Than Expected

This weekend we popped down to our allotment. It was a cold and windy and my heart wasn't really in it. Enthusiasm can wane as the weather turns colder. But the kids ran around with boundless energy and we dug up the last of the potatoes and planted some onions sets, albeit a few weeks later than planned. 

The best thing about the plot at this time of year is that mother nature gives you a fighting chance; a head start in the race to get the plot 'ready' for spring. The pace slows and the weeds you clear don't grow back before you've reach the allotment gates. We make progress year on year, but our 250 square metre plot still has many neglected areas that we earnestly want claim for our idyllic plot.

It was our first November weekend on the plot and I expected nothing in return for my morning weeding and clearing. But to my amazement we came home with potatoes, beetroot, carrots, rainbow chard, yellow courgettes and some sage. That made, what started out as an unethusiastic venture, a morning well spent. Who'd have thought you could have such a love-hate relationship with a piece of land; this weekend it won me over.

Does Having Children Affect Your Memory?

Early(ish) next year I have one of those landmark birthdays. I'm still deciding whether to fully embrace it, go into hiding or just deny it completely. I've still a few more months to go so there is no pressure quite yet. However with this day looming, I find myself looking back at my former years. The other day I tried to think how I spent my last landmark birthdays ... my 30th, my 21st ... I can't remember either. It wasn't that I partied so hard they both ended in a drunken haze. No, I simply don't recall them.

My memory is patchy at best. I remember useless information: what I ate at a restaurant seven years ago; a dress my mum wore in 1979; the pattern of a wallpaper we had at home in the early eighties. When I look back through Lily and Arthur's baby albums I see babies snapped by the camera to record landmark times: first ever Christmas, first birthdays and such like, yet I struggle to recall any key elements of 'that day or time' ... they just all roll into one in my mind.

Try and take my memory back to life before kids and it really does struggle. Now, to remember when it was just myself and David is strange and surreal. The fact that we moved to a new city, where we knew just one person when Lily was just a few months old makes the line between 'before kids' and 'after kids' all the more definite; quite otherworldly. Yet children have only been part of our life for six and a half years. It's no time at all. My winter coat is older than that.

As any parent knows, it's a 24/7 job. Work, school and other commitments create a tight schedule that your days, weeks and years are organised around. I think it is just 'that' that highjacks your memory. As a busy parent your memory is called upon to store all the immediate and often random stuff you need to draw on frequently.

Take this coming weekend for instance, I need to ensure that Lily's swimming kit, ballet kit and school uniform is all washed ready for next week; I must buy two presents for two birthday parties that Lily is attending this weekend; I've got to pop to the florist to order flowers for a wedding cake I am making; I've a couple of work documents that I need to work on; I need to prep for a meeting with a possible intern for the business; I need to buy a new TV, a hamster cage and ribbon to edge the cake-boards of the forementioned wedding cake; then there are dinners to plan and food to shop for; an untold list of household chores to get through; the balcony needs clearing of summer plants that have died off; there is an Amazon order to return; and I really could do with getting down the allotment. I could go on. I live by lists - it's the only way. The amazing thing is I rarely forget to do any of this stuff.

But then I remember a conversation Lily and I had on the walk to school earlier this week. She asked me what my first teacher was called. It came to me in an instant. She then asked me who my teacher was the next year. It just rolled off my tongue. I ended up naming every teacher I ever had whilst at school. I surprised myself. So maybe it is all still lurking there at the back of my memory, ready to resurface at its own free will, when I least at all expect it.

12 Years Ago

Tomorrow David and I have been married twelve years. I tend not to put posts up on a weekend, so it feels fitting to mark it today, blog wise. It still feels quite grown-up to have a 'wedding anniversary.' It's what your parents and grandparents had when you were younger; it's cards adorned with flowers and scroll type fonts.

When people ask how long we've been married, I can't just give a straight answer. I have to add the fact that we were together for ten and a half years before we finally got around to making it official. So yes, we've been 'married' for twelve years, but 'together' for twenty-two and a half years. Twelve years is good going, but twenty-two and a half years is long-term hard-core stuff for a couple of our age. It's a statistic that makes me feel really old; old enough for wedding anniversaries even.

Twelve years ago I'd say we were different people. In 1999 we were living in the first house we bought together (a very grown up family house); we were both 'employed' rather than 'self-employed'; we hung out with friends; frequented pubs and restaurants; went to more than our fair share of gigs and music festivals; had the weekend papers delivered and had lie-in's every weekend we wanted them. Oh how different life has become. All that free-time to ourselves: we'd walk over hot coals just for a fraction of that care-free time now.

Our wedding day was wonderful, as every wedding day should be. But it was just 'a day' ten and a half years down the line to legally seal our commitment to one another. It was a beautiful day spent with our families and closest friends all under one roof - a line up never to be repeated. We had a lovely civil ceremony at Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park and stayed there for the reception. We were the last to leave the party - it was that good.

But it's the normal days, good and bad, that make a marriage. There have been amazing up times like the arrival of out two beautiful children who are the epicentre of our existence and there was relocating and setting up our family-life in Hove which has moved us into new circles of friends who have become very much loved and valued. There have been down times too, really down times; but we've had each other and that is a powerful thing during uncertain times in life. There has been stressful times; the business, moving home (or not), schools and finding our way as a new parents. Twelve  years ago today, on the eve of our wedding we were excited about the prospect of setting out on the path of married life: a new chapter. Back then we were carefree with ideas, dreams and ambitions. Did any of it come to fruit?

Well, we might not (yet) be living in our dream house as we approach our middle life years and holidaying in exotic places has yet to come our way, neither has a dream car (actually neither of us care a toot about cars, hence we own a Skoda) and we don't have piles of money sitting in the bank beckoning an early retirement. However, we're comfortable, have no major life regrets and we're happy. We've worked hard together to build our business, we live by the sea in a city we love and we have two of the most amazing children you're ever likely to meet. Not a bad outcome for the last twelve years all considered don't you think?

Today happens to be my mum and dad's wedding anniversary. They have clocked up an amazing fourty-four years. That's a big number. I ponder as to how that must feel. I imagine it must feel quite unreal; how can you have been married so many years in what feels such a short space of time? Where did the time go. As they say, time is what goes by when your busy living your life.

Walking

I pretty much walk everywhere. I like it as a mode of transport, which is just as well as I don't drive. Since Lily has changed schools I now walk her to and from school; it's a brisk 25 minute walk each way. Fellow parents congratulate me on it. When I walk down the road neighbours remark how much I walk.

I really don't see the amount of walking I do as that excessive. A typical day starts with walking Lily to school (25mins), then I walk from school to work (25mins). After my morning at work, I walk from work to playschool to collect Arthur (15mins) and then back home (10mins) for lunch. Then come 3 p.m. we off again to collect Lily fro school (a 50 min round trip). I also make frequent trips and detours into town for the supermarket or the library. Add that up and on a good day I may spend 3.5 hours walking somewhere or other. It adds up doesn't it? I guess one of the reasons people drive is the time it saves. I am always strapped for time.

But if I did drive, think of what I'd miss. What kind of shape would my legs be without all that walking? Would I notice the changing of seasons quite so much? Would I have noticed the beautiful Peonies that flower every summer in a garden I pass on my way into town? Would I have as many opportunities to exchange pleasantries with my neighbours? No, I wouldn't. 

Walking is good for the kids too. They've never known any different and gladly walk for miles. The school run is mine and Lily's time to chat about this n' that. Arthur knows the various points on our walking routes where he might expect to meet a cat too; there are a couple of friendly felines that can often be found outside the music shop that we pass, as well as in the gardens of some of the houses we go by on our route. He's also starting to point out house numbers. Number '8' is his current favourite.

Run this blog post by me in the depths of winter and I'll probably be making noises about wishing I could drive. But I'm happier on the pavement. Walking gives me time, a chance to breath, think and get my mind in order for the next part of the day. 

The Business: Then & Now

Image: LondonMet

As something that is so integral to our family life, I'm surprised I haven't written more posts on our business. Maybe it's because I've been somewhat out-the-loop for a while. For those who don't know, David and I run our own PR business: one that specialises in contemporary furniture, lighting and home accessories as well as design exhibitions. It all kind of happened by accident. We didn't both sit down one day and decide our dream was to set up our own PR agency. No, not at all. We grew it from scratch seven years ago and today we're still working hard at it. It's not an easy ride having your own business; the pressures can be huge, particularly when it has to support your family. But this far down the line, I don't think either of us could see ourselves working for 'a company' again.

For the last two-and-a-half years, I've taken a back seat: a rather over-extended maternity leave. Of course, in some ways I've not left; David brings work home and we've sat up into the early hours on many an occasion working through a press release or on a proposal for a potential new client. When Lily was born and before she went to school, we would effectively job-share. We split the business and the childcare 50:50. But by the time Arthur came along the business had changed some what and our 'flexible' set up wasn't an option. The work we carry out these days is much more involved; it wouldn't be time productive to constantly be 'handing over' to one another. So we decided on David handling the business full-time while I focused on running the home, looking after the kids and everything else that makes up family life. 

Since then our client portfolio has changed quite dramatically. Go back two-and-a-half years and many of our clients then had been with us long-term. Despite David and I running the business 50:50 from the very early days, a few clients had the false preconception that I was slightly higher up than David. Maybe it was the fact I had a PR background (Conran and Urban Outfitters) some years back; maybe it's because I started out on my own for a very short time on a freelance basis under the name PR-Girl.  When we became a limited company we kept the name as it was gaining a good reputation and we didn' want to jeopardise that. It used to really grate on me when a client would request that I attend a meeting rather than David or that I took the phone call. People, friend's even, would joke that David worked for me and that at the end of the day it was 'my business'. David never seemed that troubled by it: he knew that we both played an equal part in the business and that we were both integral to it.

So it was interesting when we announced that I would be stepping back for 'a while'. Clients excepted it. Has me not being around made any difference? No, not a bit. In fact, under his own steam, David has taken on several new clients: real mover's and shaker's in the industry. I doubt I would have had the confidence to take them on. Despite a recession, he has grown our business and achieved astonishing results for many of our clients, enforcing our worth in the industry ten-fold. I'm so proud of him. I think he's actually a better 'business' person than I am. He takes gambles and works like a dog to make sure they pay off. He has the right personality for the job. He is genuine and hard working and people see that and respect him for it.

We now have some handsome clients in our portfolio; Tent London, Origin, Design Event, Home, Pulse, Mini Moderns, Surface View, The Lollipop Shoppe and Michelle Mason to name but a few. He has essentially been doing the job of 2 - 3 people for the last couple of years. Apart from our week holiday and a few days at Christmas he has had no time off. He gets home late most nights these days, usually after I've put the kids to bed. After dinner, it's not unusual for him to turn on the laptop and catch up on some work to make 'tomorrow easier'. From what I see it rarely does. Being on the receiving end I can find it tough at times. His line between work and home is often blurred. I can feel like a single parent Monday to Friday, but it's hard to voice your complaints to someone who is working hard for you and your kids. After all, it's the kind of life one subscribes to when running your own business. I need to get the 9 - 5 thing out of my head: much like company pensions, sick pay and an annual holiday allowance, they are not part of our employment package. Our business is what we make it and it's what we have to do now that we have our family to support.

With Arthur now settling into playschool, I will be returning to the business for three mornings a week. Due to the limited time I can commit to the business for the moment, I will take the desk at the back of the office (so to speak). I will work on any press releases I'm needed for and will look after other projects that will hopefully enable us to grow the business further. I'll be  doing all the stuff David just hasn't had time to do; setting up our company blog, keeping the accounts up-to-date and I'll be working on our new company name and re-brand. Yes, seven years on we do still have the official company name of PR-Girl. It isn't really fitting anymore don't you agree?

My Yoga Ladies

It's been a long week and quite a tough one at that. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I've been struggling under a bit of a cloud this week. Maybe it's the weather turning, maybe it's the constant entertaining of the kids or (when not coming up with exciting things for them to do) the overused phrase of 'we're bored'. It could be the endless housework, tidying, washing up and cooking meals. It's non-stop for a good twelve hours a day and it is tiring. Then there was the bigger thing; the riots. At first they made me so very angry, now I just feel sad.

Sometimes, during times like these, you need to just lift yourself out of the everyday for a few hours. It's easier said than done, but luckily for me I had an evening out last night. It feels a long time since I last had a proper evening out. Reader of this blog will know that I did go to Vintage at the Southbank recently, but I say that doesn't count as it was 'work related'. I got my diary out and looked back through the months. The last evening out I had was the 5th of May; a good few shared bottles of wine at a friends house. So I was right, it has been a while. With that pattern, my next night out should be in mid November.

I was in very good company last night with my 'yoga ladies'. Yes, the four of us always refer to our collective as the yoga ladies. I must say it does give outsiders a false impression that we are all super bendy ladies that can transform into an elegant 'sun salutation' pose at the drop of a hat. The truth is that we all meet in 2008 as pregnant ladies doing a weekly pregnancy yoga class. Of the class, the four of us soon bonded and now see each other regularly with our resulting offspring; Arthur, Oliver, Cherry and Sofia. The truth is none of us has done any yoga since. But the rather fallacious name has stuck.

A night out with good friends is sometimes all it takes to feel like your old self again. Food, wine, conversation; all partner and child free is great therapy. We're all in the same boat and sometimes just knowing that is enough to wake up a little more positive the next day.

Teach Your Children Well

I sat up late last night. I was tired and really needed an early night, but I started watching the riots in London unfold on the news. It was thoughtless destruction that was out of control and I couldn't quite believe what I was witnessing was happening in places I knew. Politicians were wheeled out to debate what might have triggered this act of thuggery and other key political figures cut short holidays to come and deal with the issue. Innocent members of the targeted communities have seen their homes and cars go up in flames. Others have lost their livelihoods; livelihoods which were probably already up against it due to the current recession. Good honest people have been very frightened. It's a very sad picture of society today.

Yes, yes I know these thugs are the minority. But I fear that actions like these are becoming more commonplace. Yes, there are political tensions. Yes, there will be friction between the young and the police. Yes, prospects for many of today's young people look grim. But none of those are reasons for this behaviour.

Respect is disappearing from today's society. That, I believe it is one of the underlying problems to the riots. Installing respect into children is the responsibility of parents. Most of us do this as second nature. I do. My parents did with me. When I was young the majority of us had respect for authority; the police, teachers and our elders. My parents generation even more so. Nowadays, the growing minority of respect-less young people dis-regard authority of any kind. They know that they can't be touched. The riots show the extreme, but you can easily stubble upon examples of no respect on a daily basis; unruly kids in the classroom that teachers can't (or aren't allowed) to touch to adults that allow their kids to throw their litter onto the pavements. As parents we are accountable for our children's actions. I know I am not alone in worrying about the world I'm bringing my children up in. But I dare say that my grandparents would have said the same about bringing children into a world at war. I guess we can but teach our children values and hope that they will pass them down to the next generation.

My Top Five Cakes

Last week I was very busy with cakes. Yes, I know I was going to move on from the cake business thing, but every now and again I'm asked so nicely to bake a cake that I just can't say no. I do love to bake cakes particularly those that are central to happy times, celebrations and milestones. They might only be a bit of home-baked sugar-sweet sponge but they make people so happy and on occasion quite delirious.

It was my good friend Celia who commissioned me to make five cakes for her mother's 80th birthday party. The big bash took place over the weekend in London. The venue was the local church hall and the menu was tea and cake. Yes, literally. No faffing around with sandwiches and alike, but straight into the cake course. Now that's my kind of party! What I liked best about this commission was that I was left to my own devises creatively. The selection that I finally settled on consisted of the following; Courgette Cake (with a Lime Cream Cheese Frosting and Pistachio Nuts); Chocolate & Guinness Cake (with White Chocolate Frosting); Orange & Almond Cake topped with Almonds; Chocolate Brownies; Lemon & Thyme Shortbread Biscuits served with Seasonal Berries and Creme Fraiche.

I chose these five cakes for their variety and interest, but also because I have now made each of them so many times I believe that I have them down to a tee. A few people have been asking lately if I ever share my recipes. 'Of course' is my answer. They're not really mine at all. Some are old recipes that exist on dog-eared magazine tear outs, some are from much-loved recipe books and some are borrowed with a couple of my own tweaks thrown in. But they have become part of my baking repertoire and thus I have great affection to them all. So over this week I am going to post these very five cake recipes, starting with the Courgette Cake, which was taken from the cake bible itself How To Be A Domestic Goddess by Nigella Lawson. Keep these recipes to hand then should a bout of baking come over you in the very near future you'll be well prepared to fully embrace it.
 

Courgette Cake (with a Lime Cream Cheese Frosting and Pistachio Nuts)

2-3 courgettes
2 large eggs
125ml vegetable oil
150g caster sugar
225g self-raising flour
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
½ tsp baking powder
lemon curd for the filling
200g cream cheese
100g icing sugar, sieved
I lime
2 – 3 tbsp chopped pistachio nuts


1. Preheat your oven to 180C/ gas mark 4 and grease and line 2 x 21cm sandwich tins.

2. Wipe your courgettes with a piece of kitchen towel and then peel on the coarse side of a grater. Once you have your pile of grated courgette, take a handful at a time and squeeze over the sink to remove excess water, placing the drained courgette in a bowl ready for adding to the mixture in step 4.

3. Put the eggs, oil, and sugar into a large mixing bowl and beat until creamy. Next sieve in the flour, bicarb and baking powder and continue to beat until well combined.

4. Now add your grated courgette and stir briefly until the mixture is flecked emerald green.

5. Divide the mixture equally between the two tins and bake in the oven for approx 30mins. The sponges are ready when slightly browned and firm to the touch. Once cooked place the tins onto a rack to cool for 10mins before turning out to cool completely.

6. Once the sponges are completely cool, you are ready to fill and ice. For the filling simply spread generously with some lemon curd. To make the frosting beat the cream cheese together with the sieved icing sugar. When your cream cheese and icing sugar are combined add a squeeze of lime for a delicious zing.

7. Smear the top of your cake thickly with the frosting. If you want to firm the icing up at all, place the cake in the fridge. Alternatively you can pop the icing in the fridge for 10 minutes or so to firm up slightly before spreading on top of your cake.

8. Just before serving sprinkle with the chopped pistachios and place a coordinating flower in the centre as a finishing touch. The inclusion of the flower is very much my little piece of creative freedom, but is by no means a necessity.

* Please note that this recipe is for a 2 layer cake. However this weekend I made a 3 layer version by adding half the ingredients again to fill a third cake tin.

What's your style?

What's your style? 

I'm talking interior wise - your home, furniture and those bits that surround your everyday. It really matters to me - is that a bad thing? I love design. I always have. I can remember intimate details of the homes I've lived in; from the design of the Habitat tea set I ate off of in the 1970's to the bold blue floral pattern on my childhood bedspread. 

Now that we are staying in our current abode for the next few years we're going to do a bit of much needed work to it. It's the first 'big home project' we've done since having our family, so we need to approach it with that in mind. There is lots of boring stuff to do; the kind of stuff that eats away at tight budgets such a dealing with damp patches and buying loft ladders as well as some electrical and building work.  We'll be living with a bit of dust and disruption in the coming months, that's for sure. But the bit I am looking forward to is the decorating and the careful purchasing of some key furniture pieces. No matter what your style is, the process of putting your stamp on your home is what makes a house a home.

I love the picture that I've used to illustrate this post. It isn't my garden in case you were wondering. I came across this spectacular garden in the village where my parents live. It made me smile so I took a photo of it. Looking back at it now, I love it for its unapologetic display of personal style and taste. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but the owner is not shy about declaring his or her style ... and good on them, I say.

Daddy the Superstar ...

Lily has been building Father's Day up for a while now. Planning her little surprises and giving David a daily countdown to his 'big day'. Goodness knows what he is expecting!

This morning Lily made daddy breakfast-in-bed. She also showered him with homemade artwork, vanilla and white chocolate cookies made with her own fair hands and a pack of Arsenal Top Trump cards. It's their latest father & daughter thing Top Trumps. Arthur, being barely two, is playing it safe with a card made at playgroup and a voucher for one of daddy's favourite record shops. Arthur seems a little baffled with the concept of Father's Day. He just walking round the house saying 'Daddy Berfday!"

David is a brilliant dad - Lily and Arthur are really lucky. He has always been very hands on even though he works such crazy hours. I'd say that he's probably more of a 'relaxed' parent than I am.
He's fun - he'll respond to their requests to be swung upside down or a trip to the park when the weather is too cold / wet / windy for me.

Lily came home from school earlier this week with some very exciting news that she'd learnt in RE . She explained to me that they were learning about different kinds of religions.

Lily (very excitedly): Mummy, you won't believe this but there is a star that's got the same name as MY DADDY, really there is!

Me: Oh, what's that then?

Lily (fit to burst with her amazing news): It's called 'STAR OF DAVE'!

Me: Really?

Lily: (stopping to think), Well, it was something like that ... it's what daddy is called.

Me: Maybe you mean 'Star of David'?

Lily: (Excitement ressumed): Yes, yes ... that was it! How good is it that that star has the same name as MY DADDY!'

The Reason Why I Support Oxford in the Boat Race ...

The reason that I chose to support Oxford in the boat race is because my dad did. I had, and still don't have any interest in the boat race, or indeed sport in any shape or form. But when that annual day came around and you had to opt for Oxford or Cambridge, I wanted to be the same as my dad, so Oxford it was.

My dad was a huge influence on me when growing up, and still is in some forms today. I think I am probably more like my dad than my mum in some ways; we're both nostalgic to the years we grew up in, he shaped my musical tastes with his 70's vinyl, we both have a mild case of OCD, we'd both sooner buy the Radio Times than the TV Times, we love Macaroni Cheese and detest milk .... I could go on.

My dad was the stricter of my two parents. I remember being banned from watching Grange Hill in case it should lead me astray (but that was nothing compared to the girl next door who was banned from watching Rentaghost in case it made her 'mad' ... yes, really. There was also the spell of not being able to play outside of our own back garden on a Sunday. Back then, Sunday was the grown-ups day of rest and they didn't want to hear children playing out in the streets. Fair point dad, I can see your thinking now. I never really questioned anything my dad said as I assumed, without question he was right. He's my dad and he knew the answer to everything. Now as a parent myself, I expect he was winging it at times like I do, but he never gave that impression and that in turn gave my childhood a feeling of comfort, warmth and security.

Through my childhood eyes I very much saw my dad as head of our family. He worked hard at his job doing shift hours and when at home he worked hard around the house. He was always doing something practical; gardening or battling with nature down the allotment, making homemade beer or working under the bonnet on string of 'unlucky' cars.

He is strikingly intelligent and has an appetite for knowledge and the arts. I don't think that rubbed off on me as I'm not particularly intelligent in any academic kind of way. My brother is more that way inclined - I'm creative. My head is too full of pictures, colours and patterns to hold onto any knowledge. I can't see it changing now. As children, my dad would instill into my brother and I how important it was to work hard at school and how it would go someway in shaping our future. I can see that now. My dad's education failed him and he wanted more than anything for us to succeed. I always wanted to please my dad and make him proud. A highly skilled job, native in several languages and a love of Shakespeare and Opera I don't have, but I do have a strong work ethic, which I like to think came from him. I still always push myself in everything I do, sometimes when I don't always need to. I wonder if it is something deep within me, an ingrained habit looking for 'approval', needing to 'please', wanting to 'step up and beyond expectation' from way back.

I know my dad is proud of me. He was proud when I got my degree and he is proud that, together with David, I have my own business. To me, he is slightly disillusioned: my degree is in Art and therefore creative not academic and our business keeps us ticking over - business woman of the year I am not. But maybe I'm just doing that 'pushing myself to the next level' thing again. See what I mean? But,  who knows it could have been much much worse if I had been allowed to watch Grange Hill.

My dad lit a lot of sparks in me that have made me who I am. Take his love of nature. I remember as a child looking at his collection of 'Observer's Books'. My favourites were 'The Observer's Book of Birds' and 'The Observer's Book of Wild Flowers'. My dad has always done his bit for the world of animal welfare. My first beloved pet was a cat called Dinkie. She was a kitten from a litter of stray cats born in one of the hangers at Heathrow Airport, where my dad worked. The cats were deemed a nuisance and were to be destroyed, so my dad bought one home. She lived a happy life with us for 15 years. When I was very young we lived on the top floor of a maisonette which had huge windows. There were lots of Dutch Elm trees around which homed a lot of birds and we'd sometimes have them flying into the glass of our windows causing themselves a little concussion. My dad pick up the dazed birds and would care for them until they were recovered. It's the kind of thing dad would do.

I wanted to find a photo of my dad with me as a child to put with this post, but I don't seem to have any (other than the one I opened my first blog post with). So I've used this picture of my dad, taken a few years back with Lily. Like me, she adores him. She hangs off his every word as I did as a little girl and I love seeing them spending time together.

And, for the record, yes I do still support Oxford in the boat race and will forever more.

Windmills & Hoovers ...

Do you remember having any irrational fears as a child? Most of us had them. They can be quite random. I remember being spooked by a musical wooden windmill my grandparents had. I think it was a souvenier from a trip to Holland. They kept it on top of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom. You would wind it up and it would play 'Tulips from Amsterdam' and at night you could plug it in and its windows would light up yellow and orange. To me as a young child it appeared rather sinister lit up. I'd have to ask my nan to remove it from the room if I ever slept over. Oddly enough, I never had a problem with 'real' windmills; I was actually quite fascinated by them.

Lily has a few fears that can be classed as irrational. I can see my younger self in her. The big one was vacuum cleaners (or Hoovers as we have always referred to them whatever the manufacturer). It could be quite a problem, having to schedule any hoovering for when she was out of the house. If at home and the hoover came out, she'd fly upstairs to her bedroom and shut the door, not coming out until we promised it was back in the cupboard. 

However a few weeks ago, she suddenly declared that she no longer had a 'hoover issue'. I'm unsure what happened to change her mind, but she now is totally cleansed of any fear, so much so that she insists on turning it 'on' and 'off' and packing the various components away into its storage bag. I'm glad she overcame her fear and it's comforting to know that when she is older she will have a clean dust-free house ... I did worry for a bit.

As for that windmill, I don't know what happened to it, but I'm quietly relieved that it didn't end up in my house.