Gifts for the teacher

Last day of school today. The number of parents who were weighed down with their gifts for their child's teacher was quite noticeable and believe me some of those gift bags looked rather big.

My children took a bunch of sweet peas from the garden in last week in a jam jar that said 'Thank you' on. It's green, cheap (I'll admit but lovingly nurtured - see there the teaching parallel!) and even if the teacher doesn't like beautiful, perfumed, delicate flowers they can always compost them. We sent it with sincere and happy thanks for another productive and incident-free academic year.

A whole industry has grown up around the last day of school with gifts and cards to buy for your child's teacher. It seems we are absolute suckers for it. There is the prom event nowadays and also apparently the nursery graduation ceremony, complete with miniature caps and gowns to buy for our little darlings. And parents fall for it. Any possible excuse and the shops will make it and we will purchase it.

I know that we trust teachers with our children and they play a huge role in their and our lives but I think that we now go over the top with the present for the teacher. Although many may be given with sincerity, I suspect some are modern cases of 'keeping up with the Jones'. And to give credit to the teachers I am sure they would be more than touched and contented with a card, holding heart-felt and genuine messages of thanks within.

I'd also like to mention all those backroom staff that play crucial roles too in the lives of our children: all the admin staff, the dinner time staff, the caretakers, the people who delivery extra-curricula activities. They are crucial in allowing the school to run as smoothly as possible. Shouldn't we buy for them too? Don't they feel they've missed out?

I thought my friend solved the dilemma of whether to buy or not to buy very well last year. She has three children. She is grateful that they are happy and learning well in school. She bought a shiny red apple for the each of her child's teachers and gave it with humour and much gratitude.

Crafting no more

I did my final craft fair last week. My two fellow crafters and I embarked on a great craft adventure about two years ago. Sonya sewing, Joy knitting and crocheting and myself jewellery making. If we didn't exactly building a crafting empire, we certainly have built sound and wonderful friendships between us. It was always a hobby for us if we are honest.

We've sold some stuff so it's quite comforting to think that our products are out there being worn and displayed and who knows perhaps a 'Virginia Blakeley' will be a much sought after item in a thousand years but I think not.

The craft fair market is saturated now. Lots of people have jumped on the bandwagon, got their glue out and made some dubious 'crafts'. It seems to have come full circle. Whereas 20 years ago I wouldn't go to a local craft fair for fear of running into a crocheted toilet roll cover, I am less willing to go now for fear of bumping into run-of-the-mill tat. There is fabulous workmanship out there but you have to go to the big craft shows to find craftsmanship par excellence. There are some gems in the smaller craft markets but it's harder and harder to find something of quality and something  unique.

So I have opened my box of necklaces and am wearing them all now. I'll dabble now and then. I will leave the craft fairs to the professionals.

Tour de Yorkshire regrets

Wracked with regret that I didn't make more of an effort to see the Tour de France/Yorkshire. Instead I was stuck at a craft fair in Manchester and sold precisely zero! Of course potential customers were either watching cycling, tennis or fast cars or enjoying the sunshine and so didn't come out. Rather sensible of them really.

The Tour came within ten miles of our house and I did debate whether to brave the crowds and view the pelaton speeding passed but ...oh yes there was the little fact I had that craft fair.

My brother had a ringside seat at the top of the Woodhead and could smell the sweat as the cyclists breezed past......for exactly 48 seconds. Whoosh and gone but he'd been there and done it.

My husband did watch it on telly and was waiting with baited breath for the point when the cyclists rush down from Holme Moss onto the Woodhead Road. It's some where we know quite well and we knew the cyclists would have a sharp left hand corner to negotiate. He was looking forward to witnessing it even if it was one step removed on TV. Oh the anticipation. ITV clearly wasn't anticipating it quite as much and cut to adverts just at the crucial moment. When the channel returned to the action the peloton was way up the Woodhead, that sharp so interesting corner long gone.

Still I did get a little Tour de Yorkshire frisson later. Ok it was 3 hours later but I felt a little involved in the day's excitement: we went up to Glossop to see the in-laws and saw cyclist upon amateur cyclist returning from their days' spectating. I wonder if they witnessed the professionals take on that left hand bend at the bottom of Holme Moss?

Why is it?

We have had some lovely sunny and hot weather over the last few weeks. Great! Then why is it that as I picked the children up from school on Friday afternoon and we got into the car to go camping it started to rain? Why is it that after we put the tent up in a field in Derbyshire (at least it didn't rain putting the tent up), a cool breeze got up and every one of us had 6 layers on and in one case a woolly hat and gloves? Why is it that the sun never came out all weekend? Why is it that as we took the tent down it started to rain and why is it that as we got up this morning for the start of the working and school week the sun and blue skies dared to appear. And why is it that I have agreed to go camping again for two nights in August?

Blast and double blast

Bugger, bugger, bugger. My brother comes for tea every Tuesday after he has visited my mum in the home. It's his birthday on Friday and we got his present three weeks ago. My husband put it in the study. We are very pleased with the presents and think my brother will be pleased and amused.  Every time I have seen them over the last two weeks I have thought how I must hide those presents; how I must wrap them up, how they seem a little too much on open display.

Bugger, bugger, bugger....my brother went into the study tonight to look something up on the internet with me and what did he darn well see.......'Oh this book looks interesting and is this a solar shower kit?'

If you think it's a good idea to do something, it probably is.

2014 vintage

Just set down this year's elderflower fizz. David and I had the production line going. I scalded the bottles, strained the soaked elderflower stew and he funnelled the soon-to-be-fizz into the bottles, pushed a cork in and then screwed on a wire. This year I have treated David to a £4.50 wire tool which twists the wire round without the use of sore fingers and secures that cork down, resisting the build-up of elderflower pressure.

I am a bit worried this year though. We made last year's vintage amidst the chaos and dust of the extension build and I have misplaced my recipe which has served me well for 4 years. Can't find it any where. Looking on the internet there are 100s of recipes, all slightly different but none that strike a chord. I tried one recipe last week and it started to go mouldy before we had chance to bottle! And some recipes, shame on them, suggest adding a little dried yeast when the whole miracle and wonder of drinking the elderflower bubbles is that the fizz is there naturally from the yeasts in the flowers. Anyway I plumped for another recipe and hope it serves well. I'll know and you'll know in about 2 weeks.

Rapunzel Diaries 10: Observation Tower at Flanders Moss

The best towers are those that you come across unexpectedly. The best towers are those you can climb up. So the very best towers combine the two. We went to Flanders Moss near Aberfoyle on holiday. Apparently the biggest area of raised bog in the UK.

Now I don't know about you but I expect a bog to be pretty flat and a bit wet. And it was horizontal and very damp but joy of joy hidden from us by the wooded approach to the bog but soon revealed was an observation tower from which to view the wet and very flat bog. Hurrah for the bog people thinking vertically.