20/04/14

Emerging, bleary-eyed, from that first jetlag-induced, twelve hour sleep to two & a half week's worth of laundry & remembering to buy milk, I thought that now was as good a time as any to put an appearance in on this little blog of mine. You see, I've been away on a family holiday (resolutely deciding that I'm not yet too old for such excursions) to Vail, Colorado for ten days worth of skiing & then for a further, wonderful four in New York City, both of which already seem world's away. I began writing a blog post before I left as, contrary to my contributions to this blog (read: nil) would suggest, March was actually a rather busy month for me, & pleasantly so too. 

As such, it would be unfair to bemoan my busy-ness as not extending beyond obligatory earning of rent money as the month of March is always one of occasion in my family with a series of birthdays: my little sister's, my stepmother's, my old jack russell's &, not least, my own. It was almost four weeks ago now but I'm still not sure how I feel about twenty-two, I'm uncertain that I like the way it sounds. I do, however, like its symmetry when written down & it hasn't been unkind to me thus far. The day of my birthday I, alas, had a very busy day at work (albeit including chocolate cake & being sung to) but left promptly for an evening of presents, pizza & plenty of red wine with the boyfriend. Proving once more that he knows me too well, I was so excited to be met at the station with a bunch of blooms & then wander home to unwrap some pretty Rifle Paper Co. recipe cards (a small business I declared my love for here), an 'O' Scrabble mug out of which much tea has already been drunk, & a critical biography of Simone DeBeauvoir whose spine I'm looking forward to cracking. The two of us were so excited to discover our favourite 'Franco Manca' had opened on Broadway Market so we found ourselves gladly nestled at a corner table for dinner on that bustling Tuesday evening.

The next day was Sofia's eleventh birthday &, despite my spending most of the day trying not to have too much of a crisis about her turning the age I was when she was born, it was lovely to see her so excited at the prospect of being a year older, from the perspective of someone for whom the prospect of growing up is now a more frightening one. Birthday have always been family occasions for me & often ones that revolve around food - a single candle in the middle of a slice of Bovril toast before school & a birthday tea when I got home from school with caterpillar cake & bowls of crisps & homemade party hats, so it was on the weekend of that birthday week that I looked forward to, planning on a joint celebration of our birthdays & Mother's Day on the Sunday. After a usual Saturday spent moseying around nearby charity shops (I am definitely out of luck as far as secondhand clothes go at the moment but I did spot a copy of Michael Cunningham's 'The Hours' for £1.99 that I am about two-thirds through & adore) & lending a hand repainting the laundry room in readiness for selling the house, Sofia & I spent a few hours of Sunday morning (& afternoon) tidying the garden room for lunch, stringing up bunting & putting yellow tulips in vases, Sofia making vanilla buttercream cupcakes & me, sticking to my strengths after the lemon drizzle, making a pancetta, leek & Gruyère quiche (thanks Gordon!) & walnut, stilton & courgette tart (cheers Rubes!) Served at three o'clock alongside yet more cheese, fresh bread & a pot of blackcurrant jam, the four of us (me, Mum, Sofia & Grandy) enjoyed eating far too much & appreciating each other's company.

Adjusting back to home life this afternoon while resisting the pull of sleep, flipping through the hundreds of photographs taken over the last few days, reading new recipes to try as I, with relief, return to being able to cook for myself, I also have memories of the last two weeks spent with the other half of my family, my Dad, brother & stepmother, that I am not so lucky to see so often. I'll be back with a post of photographs & stories detailing these adventures soon but, in the meantime, I'll leave you with a picture of my most treasured birthday present, a beautiful, heritage Roberts radio from my mother, that's had me dancing around my bedroom all afternoon.

Speak soon - O.