Food, interiors, motherhood and London life.
Last weekend we went to the most wonderful Honeysuckle Cottage at Daylesford Organic Farm in the Cotswolds.
It was so perfect and so idyllic we’re going back on Monday to look at the local school and a house in a nearby village.
Wish us luck.
This cake just wouldn’t photograph colour-wise. I love the composition though Sorry! I couldn’t bear that photo and had to swap it out. I spent all last week baking and cooking for a digital magazine article that’s due now. Time to finish everything and send it over!
Beautiful day in London today. Today I will be finishing Astrid’s grey double gauze dress – using up some Linnet stash from 2008. Today we’ll be potting up our seeds that are now huge seedlings and possibly having some time to sit down and watch the new Studio Ghibli film Arietty, which I haven’t had a chance to watch yet.
Yesterday we went up to Selvedge and it was closed! Wanted to get some more Liberty bias binding and look at all the lovely things in their shop.
On Friday Yvonne was in London with Anki from Zilver Blauw and we went to Selina Lake’s Homespun Style book party. It was lovely – Cherry came up as well and we had a fun afternoon hanging – just the girls. There’s a photo in Yvonne’s camera which I need to get my hands on.
I was one of the lucky 13 who got a goodie bag with my book purchase. Well worth it – it came with a Mollie Makes magazine, Mollie Makes calendar, a pillowcase from Rose Hip and some other lovely little surprises.
Loving these spring days, especially when there’s a bit of sunshine around.
Look! An Easter tree. We found the perfect branch on the Heath and carried it home and we didn’t blow the eggs. Instead I found a little box of 12 for £3 at Heals which must have been a mistake so I bought them and they assured me that was the right price so we had a lovely Easter tree!
Right. We’re all back here now. All posts are ported back to A+B – although I will be keeping Lovely Food with duplicate content for now. It was a fun adventure trying a new blog. It went well. But I’m A+B and that’s that. And here I am and here I’ll stay.
Sorry if anybody was expecting sewing. It’s all food at the moment. Although, there is sewing in the pipeline. And gardening. And soon we’ll be visiting cousins in Richmond again, and because we like to stay late we always drive even though there is a lovely train from Hampstead Heath all the way to Richmond.
Back in the olden days when I first arrived we got given a car. It took days and days of me calling for car insurance quotes before we found anything – it’s never easy when you first arrive in a country to get yourself sorted. But I digress. The car didn’t last long. It was a Citroen and my boyfriend at the time, who had a habit of ruining my cars, asked what I thought would happen if he adjusted the suspension whilst we were mid-drive. The answer: the car will die and we will be left stranded in Stratford up Avon with a massive garage bill. That’s what will happen.
My point was – I do quite miss not having a car and it’s always lovely to catch the train and watch the world go by. Long weekends are good for that. How nice it was having a four day weekend. How nice it was having all that time to spend with the family, to bake and to sew.
It’s Franklin birthday season from late December to early March. Well, late March if you count Mum, which I suppose one should. Just because she’s no longer on this earthly plane doesn’t change her birthday.
And if you count Kevin, birthdays run from late December to early June. Which really does change the whole Franklin birthday dynamic doesn’t it. We used to be all bunched together very neatly. And now we’re not. And if you include Megs in that, which of course you would, then we also include September and then we’re really spread out.
But the girls, the four girls – all have very neat birthdays. And birthday years. Ours are Capricorns, two years apart. And the cousins, they’re both Pisces, also two years apart, and one year younger than each of ours.
So, if you’re not quite sure what that all means, it means; one is five, one is four, one is three and one is two.
Ding dang dong.
It was my birthday on Monday, and in our house blueberry and chocolate cake is called birthday cake. To make it even more special we sprinkled it with sugar and pretty edible petals from Steenbergs. Using my usual cake recipe but with blueberries. I promise this week to try some new recipes!!
We took Monday off and went to Moro for lunch. The food was out of this world. They really outdo themselves on the vegetables. I of course took my camera and documented it all on Lovely Food.
My birthday was a bit of a bumper year for presents to make up for all the years we didn’t believe in presents. I now firmly do. After lunch we caught the bus (it was freezing cold and windy on Monday – too cold to walk) from Exmouth Market over to Tottenham Court Road and up to the camera shop. I was a very lucky girl and got a proper heavy tripod and a light reflector for my birthday present after spending the past few weekends trying to hold my camera onto my ancient Sony tripod and take food photos at the same time.
This morning I got up early with the girls and came down to work. Sunday mornings are my time for reflection and invariably blog writing. So this morning I saw a lovely spread from Sweet Paul magazine by Casa de Perrin on Instagram and I thought I’d dig out my old graphics tablet I bought back in 2005 and start writing on my photos.
Which looked too messy in the end. Sorry for people with missing images but I had to race downstairs and delete it in the end and go for tidy typography instead.
Outtake – final Violet Cakes photos at Lovely Food
Ah, I love waking up at 6.30am on a Sunday and coming downstairs with Astrid. Even better this morning it was raining, which meant we didn’t have to go out walking – we could all stay inside and I could secretly get some work done editing photos. Lots of cups of tea later and I’d had enough so off we went out for a lazy Sunday drive – off in the usual East London direction with the promise of a visit to Whole Foods in Stoke Newington.
We got waylaid of course, trying out the coffee from Long White Cloud in Hackney Road. They sell Kiwi Marmite! That made me a happy lady indeed. As did the oat milk latte. Although I think I prefer soy.
Then off to the lovely Violet Cakes in East London – my favourite London cake shop.
Cupcakes for the girls and cupcakes for my camera.
We got home, me small box of cakes in hand. I set about rearranging my office and now et voila I have my studio table in a new spot with good light. A homeless sewing machine but there are worse things right. Which might include a slightly burnt cake (I burnt it) that just will not be photographed!
The last time we had a birthday party for the girls was Edith’s first birthday and Astrid’s third. We skipped last year. I’m so tired. I’ve been working weekends and evenings for the last three weeks. Yesterday I baked tarts, cake and cupcakes and today we hosted the party and I’ve been creating an intricate sitemap for work since 7.30pm.
The brilliant news is I’ve perfected the orange blossom and cardamom cake – I even did pink icing for it. The Alsace tart was a winner. Not so much the carrot pie. I’ll work on that recipe.
The girls’ guests had a lovely time at the party. I made party bags for all. They were finished half an hour before the guests arrived at 11am. The face painter came at noon. Kids had lunch then cake at 1pm and everyone left by 2.15pm. Then we went out with my brother’s family for a nice long walk on the Heath and a well earned cup of tea at the caff.
I think ten was the pefect number of children to have at the party. We had enough chairs for everyone including the adults so we didn’t need to call in chair hire! Edith really wasn’t happy near the end – it was all a bit much for everyone I think.
The guests all left happy and I’ve had reports back of children spending the afternoon eating loads of sweets and drawing in their new books, happily leaving their parents in peace for a bit. Happy Birthday girls!! It was a swell party.
Top: Rufus; Bottom: Oscar (and we need to clean the windows eek)
Rufus and Oscar have settled into London life. Again. They’ve both carved out their neighbourhood territories and places they go to sleep in the sun. There’s a great big enormous cat that lives somewhere near. It’s the size of a very small cow. A very small cow that has slashed poor Mr Rufus’ little leather ears. Little leather ears from too much Oscar licking them. Soft leather ears, are I suppose, quite easy to rip.
Sometimes Oscar takes a while to come home and we go down the street and around the block and then out into the back garden again, calling, “Oscar, Oscar… Oscar. Puss puss puss puss. Puss puss puss puss. Oscar”. And on it goes. Usually Oscar comes back. The other night Oscar did not.
I wandered down the road, singing the usual Oscar call. A few doors down I heard meowing and I looked and I looked and I thought, “He’s in one of those bins”. Surely not. He’s behind that garden door. But he can get out of there easily. Not the bin. Not the gate. Follow the quiet sound of the Oscar meow. Meow. Raow. Raow. Rrrrraaaoowwwwwww.
Oh. There you are Oscar. You’re in that man’s house aren’t you. Now it’s all falling into place. The man. Who says you come into his house. My brother said a cat can’t just get into someone’s flat without a bit of cooperation from the human occupier.
Ring ring ring ring ring. All the doorbells of all the flats. It’s dark up where you are. But at least I can see you and you’re alive. Oscar. Oooh, here come footsteps and somebody opening the door. Ah, you’re not from that flat. Oh. Really, the guy is feeding Oscar. Right. That explains why he’s always talking about Oscar when he walks past us when we’re out in the front garden.
The neighbours all know the guy who’s flat Oscar is stuck in. The lights are out. I think the worst. He’s fallen asleep and Oscar won’t get out until tomorrow. Kevin thinks even more worst – the guy is dead. I stand outside in the freezing cold watching the house. Talking to Oscar. We’ll get you out little Oscar as soon as we can. But it might not be until tomorrow now. The police can’t come and knock the door down. (We did check).
It’s freezing. Free. Zing. I walk a few meters back home. But I keep my boots and coat on while I put Edith to bed. She’s asleep in minutes and I go back to stand guard for Oscar. Poor little cat. It’s still freezing so I go home again. Back. Home. Back. Home. Ring the doorbell. Home. Back. Ring the doorbell. Talk to Oscar. At least he’s ok.
What if the guy is dead? Ok, well the police will come tomorrow. We’re going to have to stop the guy feeding Oscar. Now we know why he’s ballooned. Even the vet said he’s getting a bit big.
Kevin says we’ll wait till midnight. Then what? I ask him.
He’s not sure. Nor am I. I decide I’ll go to bed soon. But I’ll wait up till pub closing time and keep checking but in the meantime I write a note for the door. A little drawing of a cat with a speech bubble saying he’s stuck inside and he’d like to go home please.
Sure enough. At 11.45pm. Not long after pub closing I am heading to the door. I’ve still got my boots and coat on. Kevin says, “He’s coming”. Little Oscar is slinking up on unsteady feet. Creeping long and low like a ferret, looking around. I open the door and he swiftly slinks in and I pick him up and he’s overjoyed to be home. Purrrr purrrr claws in my chest dancing feet purrr purrrr purrrrrrrrrr claws ouch ouch ouch yes hello cat glad you are home little cat I hope you don’t go visiting like that again.
Astrid turned 5 this week. Five.
Five years ago in New Zealand on a Summer’s evening and there she was. End of 2006. That was the time I began writing this blog. It was a time to begin documenting our lives with the children. We’ve made family albums. I’ve not done the last two.
The best thing about this year for Astrid is that I look back on last year’s birthday photos when Astrid refused to have her photo taken – yet this year she got a packet of Hello Kitty candles weeks in advance for her birthday, she even got us to light them twice so she could blow them out twice.
She’s been talking about her party all the time and who she wants to come (it’ll be after the holidays), out riding her new bike all day, finding out how things are made, how I made the pastry for the Alsace tart I baked tonight, wanting to bake, insisting on going outside in the garden, standing up to Edith.
Astrid is really settling in here in London.
Settling into herself. Settling into some form of permanence.
Happy birthday little love.
I wish all the joys that life can bring for you in 2012.
The other Sunday we went to the girls’ first ballet recital. I can’t remember why there wasn’t one last year, although last year I went to see their final ballet performance and I went to end of year festival for Astrid. This year I did neither. I’ve taken so much time off lately while we had an au pair while our nanny was away and I know there’s more of that ahead during Christmas. So Astrid cried this morning that I couldn’t come. And tonight somebody told me about their good friend who’s a photographer who earns bazillions of pounds to work a few days a month.
I know what next year’s goal is now.
My Yquem arrived yesterday. And James came over to work on his site so we tiptoed down to the cellar and opened one of the gift boxes. Ok, well I’m not giving any away so the fancy box was a nice present for us. It is indeed the best wine I’ve ever ever had.
And tonight I was reassured I wasn’t such a terrible cook after all and that simple has its merits.
All in. A good evening.
Here we are in the most beautiful part of the South of France, the Luberon.
It’s Sunday and we went to Isle sur la Sorgue market, in search of antiques. This trip my sense of direction has entirely failed me. It took three hours to drive here from the airport – probably a one hour drive. And today I couldn’t find antiques in the market although with small children and Kevin with no hat and a hot sun we weren’t in meandering mode.
Tis the most wonderful house we’ve found. I knew the photos weren’t doing it justice in the ad, so in a leap of faith I booked it, and oh my word, what a splendid place it is. It’s like a little boutique hotel with three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, a kitchen table, a dining table, sofas and even air conditioning! And, on top of that even, a beautiful terrace with geraniums in pots, an outdoor kitchen with barbeque, another dining table, an outdoor fridge and lovely wrought iron comfy armchairs which we must move if it rains. Below the terrace is a pool – I looked and looked for a house with a pool with roman steps but just couldn’t find one and our pool has turned out to be very deep indeed. I can stand up in it on tip toes only.
The owners are lovely – the man is a retired fireman who built the place himself, and his wife is very sweet – she must have decorated it – the house truly has had somebody’s heart and soul go into the decorating. Dad’s room even has an amazing hand-beaten copper hand-basin on wrought iron pedestal.
So, in my diary I have a list of markets that are on each day, underlined are the prettiest ones, with help from our hosts, along with other recommendations such as the paper museum for the children at Fontaine de Vaucluse.
This is my favourite part of France – not that I know that many others. It’s the place I visit whenever I can. The Luberon with such pretty countryside – the place with cherry trees growing in fields along the roadsides. I always am so excited by unfenced fruit trees. The idea of being in a place where it’s ok to pick a handful of fruit on the way by. It reminds me of childhood when we picked blackberries on the East Cape on a long long Summer holiday when I was about seven. And of my childhood in Devonport when one could easily just pick a grapefruit over a fence to quench the thirst from a long Summer’s walk.
Today we went to a fruit shop after the market and filled one basket each for the girls. Melon, parsley, pears, apricots, strawberries, peaches, two bottles of Rosé, a baguette ancienne, a wonderful cheese to be eaten with quince jelly, garlic and pan au chocolate as a gift from the shop owner as we were leaving – for the girls. Which they ate whilst watching Peppa Pig on the laptop this afternoon.
I forgot my camera lead so it’s going to be instagram this trip!
Ah little mimi. Mimi cried and cried and cried that mummy was away. So much so that the others called an ambulance.
It was hard watching that on Skype from the Hamburg office. In the end she went in the car with Daddy and off to sleep she went. She was just missing mummy. Poor little breaky heart.