You get what you need

Today's title is, of course, in honour of the Stones who are currently blasting at me while I feel decadent and indulgent. You see, I awoke to rain today and grinned as I stretched in bed. This should be sad: rain, in Summer. Oh no reader, this day has been much needed after sticky hotsummer days that remind you of the fun you should be out there enjoying. Plus it meant I didn't have to water the garden- added bonus!

So today is about staying in, wearing new comfy pyjamas and doing whatever.I.want.to.do. First, I made a yarn pile from all the yarn I got at KnitNation yesterday (more on that later) and petted it. Sadly, most of this is destined for friends too far away for my liking but it's fun to play with all the same. Then I did what any self respecting layabout would do on such a rainy day: I boiled the kettle, found my book, something yummy and lost 2 hours........











The noise I'm making right now isn't far off purring.

Lest we forget

Having been staying at home, I've enjoyed feeling that warm glow of comfort, slight unease at being amongst family and naturally, the overwhleming urge to run screaming out the door everytime I'm asked if I'm going to leave THAT GLASS ON THE TABLE.

Yet there is something about being home that fills me with hope and vitality. It's like a pitstop, you'll get through the coming days on it. So when my sister was sorting her room we peeked in boxes and found the most glorious peice of memory I've found in a long time: the holiday diary. Little sister and I would diligently draw pictures of our holiday and Mum would carefully help us spell out the caption on the top.

My sister's was a joy of life through a child's eyes. Hair was a main feature (well, it was the 80s) and perspective on the caravan was priceless. My favourite? The little owls we saw at the farm, all drawn in a line looking like spooked pacmen and us dancing along the top.

Sometimes I wish I was 4 again.....

A Welcoming Treat

One of my favourite things to make, improvised to suit my penchant for luxury chocolate with good things in.....


Chocolate and Cranberry Oatmeal cookies
Ingredients:
175g/ 6oz butter/ margarine (I mixed them)
275g/ 9 ½ oz Demerara sugar
1 medium egg
4 tbsp water
1 tsp vanilla essence
375g/ 13 oz rolled oats (the less processed the better)
140 g/ 5 oz plain flour
1 tsp salt
½ bicarbonate of soda
100g plain chocolate broken into chunks (I used some with amoretti biscuits in)
100g dried Cranberries
To make:
1. Preheat oven to 180®c/ gas mark 4 and grease large baking sheet.
2. Cream butter and sugar before beating in the egg, water and vanilla essence.
3. Mix oats, flour, salt and bicarbonate of soda before gradually stirring this into the butter mixture.
4. Once fully combined, add chocolate chunks and cranberries.
5. This mixture makes about 30 biscuits but I like mine a bit bigger and soft in the centre so I am to make about 20 rounded spoonfuls. Make sure to space them out before popping in the oven for 15-20 mins or until cookies are golden brown.
6. Remove the cookies and try to allow them to cool........

First thought

It’s later in the morning than I would normally be on the train. The reason is, I’m barely awake today and the world feels decidedly less playful when I’m exhausted. Without a seat, I opted to hunker down by the door and work on my nearly complete socks with a podcast trying to remind me of the world outside my sleepy fog. I’m coping, thank you.
As we approach Waterloo the usual commuter panic kicks in and people grab for bags, coats and umbrellas from about Vauxhall. This never fails to amuse me, I mean, the train is still moving?? So I knit on and watch cautiously out of the corner of my eye; a feat of wonder quite frankly considering I can barely blink in my sleepiness.
Just then the nearest commuter points at me dramatically and says with great pomp ‘Look! I can’t go any further, there’s a girl........... KNITTING!!!!!!!’ His colleagues lean round him curiously and I smirk as a ripple moves through the little crowd of lemmings: ‘A girl? Knitting’, ‘No?’, ‘What’s she knitting?’ ‘Looks like SOCKS’, ‘On a train?’ ‘No?’ ‘Do you think they’re for her war bound husband?’
‘God, it’s like 1834 in here.’
......................

Now that one really threw me. 1834? That’s kind of...... specific? And the blasphemy in front of it? I think God has a lot more to deal with than a man not coping with a girl knitting surely? I have pondered this ever since. I can only assume these people don’t travel often as I have seen many, many odder things than a girl knitting. A man with a metal prism over his head to stop thoughts escaping being my favourite.