Diary of a working mum – Sunday

It’s the last day of the week’s experiment! Tomorrow I shall do some kind of conclusion. But for today: first up, I promised you a photo of the finished toy dog I made.

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S’s turn for a lie in and E let me lie in bed till 7:10. I sat her on the sofa while I got her milk ready and watched as she very deliberately took each of her stacking cups and dropped them onto the floor, watching to see where and how they landed. We breakfasted together and got dressed and then I cleaned the kitchen, cursing, for the millionth time, the person who designed it. It’s old and needs replacing but would be SOOOO much easier to clean if the worktops and sink were not made of white grained plastic. Eugh. It’s the most impractical place EVER. One day I will afford a new kitchen. Until then, out with the bleach.

Our plan for today was to go to NOT The Hay Festival and NOT the Camden Market, a large market of crafts, vintage and local foods held alongside for today only, a book festival and all inside an old bus depot. First, to get there. I knew the new tram line was being constructed along there but I didn’t know the road was closed. We went round the houses for a while before giving up, finding a car park and walking the last bit. Actually, I really liked it without the traffic. Sometimes the silence can be weird, like a zombie apocalypse, but this felt more like we were reclaiming the streets.

The market was good, lots of interesting stalls. We stopped first to have sausage cobs (I unwittingly started a conversation on Twitter about what to call these. Note: I’m a Southerner so I’d say rolls but since we’re in Nottingham, cobs it is), coffee and cake, eating standing up at a table surrounded by food stalls. A student with questionnaires made her way round the tables asking for help and I waited, ready to pour forth my twopenneth but she ignored us (standing-ist?) I stopped in to one of the literary talks but sadly it was by an old man who was very much of the “write what you know” type. “It’s so much easier to write it if you’ve actually done it,” he said before detailing his life experiences in the war, diving among wrecks and who knows what else. I quietly left after he said that he’d never been a one for picking up atmosphere. And you’re a writer sir? Hmmm… Takes all sorts I suppose.

When we got home S did some gardening and E and I hung washing out (what a treat!) made dough for bread rolls (in the machine) and played for a bit before I gave her some tea. Then I went upstairs for a while to scribble out my writing group homework before my mum called. I got an hour’s worth of writing down which needs typing this evening. After that, it was E’s bath time and then to bed. It turned out S had forgotten her tea time milk while I was writing so he gave her a bottle and put her to bed while I came down to deal with the dinner.

I’d like to say at this point that I’m usually a competent cook. The chicken was roasting, surrounded by potatoes – looked and smelled great. The dough cycle had finished an hour previously and was growing out of the top of the machine. I made it into six rolls and found we had no greaseproof paper so had to fish around in the freezer, unwrap something and use that on the baking trays. I’d put a saucepan of water on for the broccoli to cook in and while I turned my back for a second, the flame from under that caught the greaseproof paper on fire. At the same time I was making an apple tart but found that we didn’t have enough apple and it looked a bit sad. So I made some custard to put on top and make an all in one tart. Good yes? I used all the custard powder we had and found there wasn’t enough so had to make a second batch with cornflour. The tart now looks pretty anemic.

Surprisingly, dinner was very tasty. I’ve packed us both up lunch for tomorrow, prepared E’s bag for nursery and tidied up a bit. This evening I need to finish this, write a blog for Creative Nottingham, type up my writing homework, paint my toenails and print off some knitting patterns for my next project. And eat pudding. But I’ll finish with another picture – talk about reclaiming the streets, here’s some yarnbombing from the closed off road:

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Happy Sunday everyone!

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2 Responses to Diary of a working mum – Sunday

  1. Polly Butterworth says:

    I’m prety sure its not but the dog looks different from Elinor’s, still lovely though.

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