Game set pimms

I went to Wimbledon this week. It was fantastic. Mind you my friend and I were put through the ringer by Mr Murray who just had to stretch his match to five sets.

I saw Murray/Henman Hill which is actually a lot smaller than it looks on the TV. We wandered among the play courts and I was amazed how close the public get to the players and how efficient they have to be at shutting out their audience. People talking, munching, photographing and generally moving about must be quite disconcerting - I'd want to tell everyone to be quiet.

We sipped refreshing Pimms and watched the great Wimbledon public go by. Strawberries, flowers, purple, green and cream everywhere. I was amazed there were no queues any where and Centre Court was just jaw dropping for me as a first timer.

It was quite a family affair. I was there with a friend and my brother was there and my nephew was there. All three parties having got their tickets in the Wimbledon draw. Much time was spent spotting where the other two parties were sat. I know now to take binoculars if I ever get tickets again.

I now fully appreciate what a quick and efficient job the ball girls and boys perform. They are a well trained force. They have not only to pick up balls but attend to their player's every whim. If s/he wants her towel they have to jump to it. If their player wants their balls presented in a certain order they have to work that out. I only hope the big names give the ball girls/boys a huge tip at the end of the tournament. Everyone who works there seems to know exactly the role they have to fulfil and gets on with it. We finally saw Murray win game, set and match which for us meant game, set and shall we have another Pimms? Go on then.

Tickled Pink: Tickled Vanilla

There are things that 'tickle me pink'. Things that delight me. I love that phrase.

We went to visit a friend on the Wirral at the weekend and he treated us to a coffee at an ice cream parlour and our coffee came with a miniature ice cream cone attached. I was tickled vanilla.

The Build: Week 3

This week has mainly involved building brick walls....not much to say about that really other than they grow.

Much more exciting is our new table.We still have an oven - no hob mind-  but it does mean we are able to cook our evening meals. The problem comes when we need to actually eat said meal. We have no table. We are fine if the sun shines as we have a table in the garden but if it's cool or raining that is not an option. My husband cooked last Saturday and I was led into the children's bedroom to find an ironing board set for four between the children's beds. Two sat on one bed on one side and two on the bed on the other. It's perfect. I knew there was a reason we never tried for three children!  You can adjust it to the height you need and it is a perfect shape to fit between two beds. Next time I think we will splash out and bedeck it with a table cloth (if we can find one).

It's the most use the board has had in ages. I'm not one for pressing clothes. Long live the humble ironing board.

Magical daisies

 

  

 

Follow the daisies - magical tracks discovered on Tiree

 

What do you do when your mum disappears?

What do you do when one of the most important people in your world is slowly forgetting who you are? What do you do when you see a beloved and cherished woman disappear before your eyes? What do you do when you have a 2 year old child and a 75 year old child?

My best friend's mum has Alzheimer's.

And you cope. You hang on in there even if at times your arms are aching and your finger nails breaking as you cling to that precipice. You come together with your siblings to support each other and your dad with love and emotional and practical support. You cherish as much time as possible with your mum.  You have a giggle and laugh because you find yourself in the weirdest and most bizarre situations at times. You do all you can to stimulate and reassure your mum. You accept all that the NHS can give you and then battle some to get more. You grit your teeth when you look round that care home into which your mum will probably have to go soon. You soak up all that love and support from your nearest and dearest to fuel you through this. Most importantly you realise what is possible and what is impossible.

My friend has three children, a job and a mum with Alzheimer's. She loves her mum and is doing with her family the very best she can - I think she's great. xx

Jane Austen dress

My friend is a very talented sower - not of seeds and plants but of tying thread and material together with needle to make a thing of wonder. It's beyond my patience and skill to even contemplate such a marriage of cotton and cloth. Her latest creation is a Regency dress for her sister who has been cordially invited to a Jane Austen-inspired ball. The dress is so simple and so lovely and intricate and with toned coordinated buttons - a little nod to the 21st century. I hope her sister has an elegant and poised time.
















It led my friend and I to conjecture how incongruous and yet how wonderful it would be if after such a ball and dressed in such a dress, you were to let down those delicately coiffured curls and relax that upright 18th century dancing back and go for a kebab. The photo shot would have to be full length, showing elegant dress but with the wearer tucking greedily into the deliciously tasty kebab with preferably some chilli sauce trickling down the chin but not onto the dress - murder to shift a stain like that. Is it blasphemous to suggest such a thing?  Would it be too much to add wellington boots or even a pint of lager? I will stop.

I'm only jealous - it would be lovely to go to a Netherfield Ball, dressed in one of my friend's dresses and enjoy a step back in time.

The creator: Sonya Smyth - contact her at www.facebook.com/thefruitiques for commissions.

The Build: Week 2

The layers of dust are building up nicely.....let's hope they aren't accumulating in our lungs at the same time. A camping lifestyle has been fully embraced - not much access to the kitchen now due to the steel work going in. Relatives and friends are being just grand. And by the way putting steel work in looks damned hard work and full of potential frustrations to get it just right. A good job to throw lots of choice swear words at.

My husband has proved how good he is at squeezing the most clobber, stuff, rubbish, necessary belongings into the tightest of spaces. I have friends scouring the local area for cardboard boxes in which I can pile more necessary belongings. It's not all bad a friend asked for a cake tin the other day and miracles of miracles I was able to delve into a box and retrieve it with no trouble. Having said that coloured pencils and felt tips seem to have disappeared into the great wilderness of unnecessary things that is the front room.

The best bit though of this last week? A brick match man came to visit to advise the builder on yes you've guessed it the best match of bricks to our existing building. I am quite tickled brick pink that there is such a man whose sole job is to match you to your brick.  He knows texture, colour, size, history, where to get them, everything. Apparently our perfect brick is the Radcliff Smooth Red and lots have been arriving, providing breakfast entertainment for the children. I feel I may have lost my way in life - I could have been a brick match lady.