Birthdays Galore

Well, it's all very inconvenient, this time of year. Within the space of four weeks my Mum, son, daughter and grand-daughter all have birthdays, which all require the making of birthday cakes, the buying of cards and presents, the organisation of celebrations of one sort or another.

And who is the Bringer of Jollity?


('Jupiter?' says Mrs Pumphrey, who is well up on her Planet Suite by Holst.)


No! Not bloomin' Jupiter...bloomin' me!


(I believe it is also Deanna's birthday today? Happy Birthday, Deanna, and if I have imagined it is your birthday, my apologies, but as you know it is all the fault of my age and hormones. Please save birthday felicitations for appropriate day (a clean jam jar will do), and open and release then. They will be just as fresh and chirpy as they are today. Unlike Phoebe Fat Cat who has got a right cob on at the moment.)

Any how, it was Chris's birthday yesterday, so I delivered a cake of the heavy-on-the-chocolate- and-Maltesers confection, and then I stayed to babysit Kayleigh (whose birthday it is today), whilst Chris and Leane went out for a birthday dinner. During the baby-sitting stint, Andy constructed Kayleigh's birthday present from us which was an ominously named 'Smartrike'. (That's 'smart' and 'trike' put together as one word, and not 'smart' and 'rike' as it appears, which when I first saw it made me think, 'What on earth is a 'rike?')

Andy, being a surgeon, is very good at constructing things. His method of casting a cursory glance at the picture instructions, casting them to one side and going along the ' that looks like it goes there,' method worked well, and soon the living room was overtaken by this pushalong-a-sitatop-a-whenyoucanyoupeddle contraption suitable for 10 months to 3 years. I was determined to wrap it, and wrap it I did although the wrapping method was creative to say the least and involved, to my shame, a certain amount of inner swearing, and getting sticky tape exactly where I didn't want sticky tape.

And today, my day off (ahahahahahahahaaaaaa!!!!!), I am charged with the making of one hedgehog cake and a matching birthday party.

Now, it's a long time since I 'did' a children's birthday party. I thought, what shall I do, foodie wise? If I make the hedgehog cake the size of a spacehopper, will that suffice? In a moment of madness I googled 'children's party food ideas' and found myself on Mumsnet.

Have you ever entered the world of Mumsnet? Blimey, it was an eye-opener! I spent ten minutes reading all the posts and ideas and got scared and ran away.

So here is the plan.

There is no plan!

I am going to Sainsbugs, where I shall wander aimlessly until I have achieved at least 8,000 steps on my pedometer. Hopefully, during my aimless wanderings, my trolley shall become magically filled with the ingredients needed to feed a one year old little boho chicklet on her return from a day out at Brighton's Sea-Life Centre. (She is taking her parents with her - it would be heck of a long journey on a Smartrike. Much quicker in a car. Less tiring on the legs, too.)

I shall give the kitchen floor a jolly good scrub, so that the 10 second rule may be observed at the party. (What do you mean, you don't know the ten second rule? I'm not sure I am brave enough to tell you at the moment.)

I shall then go into the back garden with a cup of tea and the leftover Maltesers from Chris's cake that I cunningly hid from the Malteser thieves, where the sun is shining, (and before you pick up on that particularly dodgy piece of grammar, no, I did not hide the Maltesers where the sun is shining. Or not. The garden is shining... oh, shut up, Denise)...and I shall take a book with me, and read a bit, and then I shall fling the party food upon the table et voila!

The Bringer of Jollity triumphs once more.

Wish me luck!!

Baby Independence

There are many things you can do when you are a baby, that you can't get away with when you are older. It is a pity, I often think, that we are too young to remember these unrepressed times, when you can do a bottom burp and everyone laughs and thinks it is hilarious, or you can blow a prolonged and wet raspberry to show your disapproval of something, and everyone laughs and thinks its hilarious.

Try behaving like that when you are more than 3 years old and see where it gets you. (And it's frowned upon even more when you reach your forties.)

Anyway, Kayleigh is exerting her independence in the 'I'll-feed-myself-thank-very-much' kind of way. She is wielding cutlery, and experimenting with culinary mixes (I believe it's called 'fusion food?) that would make Heston Bloomenthal turn slighty green and maybe yak a little.

Here we have a study of 'Kayleigh With Pasta and Fork.' Note the sideways mouth approach because silly Gran doesn't have a baby sized fork so Kayleigh is having to manage a grown up fork. She will only eat one piece of pasta at a time. Spear the fork with any more than one piece and surplus pieces will be off-loaded. It can be a bit of a slow process, but very good for digestion.

Here is the study 'Kayleigh Mixes Pasta With Summer Fruit Fool.' Observe how cutlery is redundant. When one is learning spoon technique, it's sometimes more satisfying when speed is of the essence to dispense with the spoon and go straight in with the hands. Bit squidgy, but a tactile delight.

Here is the study 'Kayleigh is Full Up and Would Like a Bath, Please.' Note the sleepy eyes, the free-style hand gestures, the evidence on the table that suggests the baby has been well-fed and then some.
And finally - 'Kayleigh Says HURRAH For Being Independent and Learning How To Do Things For Herself.'

Make the most of it, precious child, because the next time you'll be able to get away with eating free-style will be when you are 94 and ga-ga!

Look at this little face! Just seven weeks short of her first birthday, Kayleigh has grown from a baby to a proper little girl. She's just started taking her first steps, is growing teeth like she's planning on eating a hefty steak for her birthday dinner, and has taken to pointing at things and whispering 'Tat?' when she wants to know the name of something.

She's a fabulous boho chicklet!

Baby Sitting, Baby Sales

So yesterday I had a call to arms, of babe-in-arms to be precise. Could I go and collect Kayleigh and look after her for a couple of hours? Of course I could, I said. That's what Grans are for.

So off we went, and gathered Baby plus a bag of accoutrements. We struggled a bit to get the car seat in the car, and then we struggled a bit to get the Baby in the car seat but Kayleigh was very good-natured and smiley about the whole chaos and with all parts secured, off we went.

Chez the Manor, Andy and I set about the process of Entertaining Baby. We spread some toys over the floor and plonked her in their midst. She immediately made a bee-line for the new cat water fountain. Copious amounts of kitchen roll were used to mop her up, and one or two strops were thrown until she realised she wouldn't be able to shift me from blocking her further access to the fountain until she is at least 14, and she headed back to the living room, leaving me to get over my stropping.

As with all babies of my acquaintance, Kayleigh isn't really interested in toys. She is more likely to be entertained by, in yesterday's case, a wooden salad server spoon, the cardboard tube from the aforementioned kitchen roll, an empty egg box and the colour supplements from the Daily Mail and the Guardian. Interestingly, she seemed to show more rage when ripping the Dail Mail supplement to shreds. Is she her grandmother's grand-daughter I ask myself.

Then she ate two oat cakes, half of which she schmooshed into the living room rug. And then stared at Andy who was eating an apple until he capitulated and gave her a slice to share. And then she added a load of appley dribble to the oat cake schmoosh in the rug. And then she had a drink from her tippee cup. More dribble. Mmmmmm.......

And then she started getting a bit grumpsome, so I changed her nappy( a first in over 20 years - they're a lot more stretchy than I remember) and snuggled her until she went to sleep. And then I showed I was a sterling Granny stalwart by remaining utterly still for a good half an hour even though my arm went dead within the first ten minutes and my bladder was bursting for a tinkle.
And the best bit was that Andy held several conversations with Kayleigh and Kayleigh didn't cry once. She stared at him in a very solemn way, especially when he was explaining oxymorons and galaxy systems to her. And somehow I felt she was taking it all in. Andy is very determined to play a full part in her education. He is also determined to build her a doll's house, but that will be a different story all together.

On more baby notes, I am THRILLED to report we have secured sales of 3 copies of Nearly King Jimbo. I suspect they have been bought by my pal Sarah, but nonetheless I have written a book that has sold 3 copies that weren't bought by me! I am soooooooooo excited!! So if it was you, Sarah, bless your heart and roll on our 'beside the sea-side weekend'. And if it was someone else, thank you too. The sales may be baby, but you have made my year!

Hats Off!

Here is Kayleigh in her latest hat.
She is beginning to amass an interesting collection of head gear for one so young and with limited buying power. And because my attempts to provide her with assorted hand-crafted knitwear have been met by the family with either woeful apathy or wild hilarity at the patterns I have suggested, I have decided to limit my efforts to hats. I have decided as a knitting granny one can get away with all sorts of creative malarkey when it comes to hats. Some may even double up as tea cosies.


Therefore, I begin my 'Millinery For Kayleigh' project with a purple number for winter which shall be adorned with various ribbons and flowers, possibly a butterfly or two. And a massive chin strap in case she decides she wants to remove it. I can't think that she would want to; I mean, it's not going to be in any way, shape or form embarrassing.

And in years to come, I can imagine Kayleigh's delight when I present her with yet another little carefully wrapped parcel, and she'll look at me with excitement glowing in her eyes and say,'Is this another of your lovely hand-crafted hats, Gran?' and I'll say, 'Yes!' and she'll be so thrilled. In fact, I might pre-plan hats for each of her birthdays, from age one through to eighteen. But I suppose I ought to wait, take into account the changing fashions. I mean, I can't even begin to guess what will be a la mode when she is 14 for example.


I shall photo and publish the results when they come in, and you, the hat jury, can give your verdict as you see fit. Which I am hoping is exactly what the hat will do.