Kids' Paradise

I gave myself a day off from the computer today and went with the girls to Kirstenbosch Gardens, after dropping our son at his cricket camp. If you ever come to Cape Town, with or without children in tow, Kirstenbosch is a place not to be missed. A little piece of tamed and manicured mountain with enough wilderness for children to play, making man-made playgrounds or theme parks totally redundant.


First of all the girls made straight for this shaded jungle of twisted trees, broad intertwined trunks to climb and explore, requiring ingenuity and agility to traverse. I let my inner child have a go too and perched high up on a comfortable elephant sized branch, watching an agitated nanny try to get her small charges to come down to safety.


I was reminded of Tertia's post yesterday. She had put up photos of her twins riding for the first time on their first ever bicycles, training wheels firmly in place, Dad hovering nearby, an empty, smooth suburban back street, sun shining. She was flabbergasted and upset to be attacked by the parent police because they weren't wearing helmets. Apparently in the US it is law to wear helmets on bikes however small and the police can fine you. This is one of the things I like so much about South Africa - we are still allowed to take responsibility for our own kids and decide what is safe, how much physical risk we can let them take, without us turning into jelly. If these trees had been in a public space in Europe or the US, no doubt they would have been cordoned off, or at least have had large notices disclaiming responsibility for any injury sustained - maybe they would have been fitted with rubber mats or guard rails. Rant over!


The girls moved from scaling the heights to catching tadpoles in the stony stream, which kept them happily occupied for an hour.



There were several other groups of girls all engaged in the same activity, some of them disappearing way up the stream, far out of sight of the mothers on their picnic rugs. Containers of frogs, rather the worse for their prolonged immersion, were carefully carried back to the picnics, one girl vehemently insisting to her mother that the two frogs, which were floating upside down, were only acting. It took some persuasion to insist that the tadpoles and frogs needed to be released here in their natural habitat, not back home.


After some sandwiches that got rave reviews - home-made white bread with the leftover Easter gammon, we moved down to the sculpture garden for a culture fix and rounded it all off with an ice-cream. An utterly perfect South African outing like a shining jewel to be treasured.

Easter is...

Easter is about:



Hot cross buns made for the first time ever from Vanielje Kitchen's recipe;



Eggs, blown all week to provide blank canvases for ever newer, more innovative decorating techniques, involving my entire supply of food colouring, gold pens, candles, wax crayons, olive oil and so on.

Experiments with colour revealed that red and green often make a sludge brown, but if repeated often enough can get pretty close to black.


Much baking had to be done to use up vast quantities of pre-mixed eggs lurking in the fridge, but at least this way we don't have to find clever ways to eat hard-boiled eggs for several weeks like Johanna is busy doing! Mind you her recipe sounds worth boiling eggs for especially!
















Easter trees to display our artistic endeavours, and of course chocolate...

The haul being counted only half way through the hunt. With one Mum and two doting aunts all masquerading as Easter bunnies, there was a record amount of eggs strewn liberally around our farm.



The Simnel cake, which apparently used to be a tradition for Mother's Day but now has become the traditional Easter cake, at least in our house. The kids mostly just like the marzipan balls and chocolate eggs, which leaves me with the cake for tea for a couple of weeks.

We did have the talk about the meaning of Easter at breakfast, after the chocolate egg hunt, just to balance things out - eggs symbolising new life and rebirth, but the talk got redirected on to how babies are made, by Youngest, who wanted to know how babies could come from eggs too...

Kindergarten D-Day

This morning I ruthlessly carried Youngest into kindergarten struggling and sobbing, handed her over to the teacher and left her there.

This was the culmination of much deliberation, procrastination, heartfelt discussions and agonising. It seemed that she was never going to submit willingly or even cooperatively to the process, so we had to do it the hard way.

We had a meeting with the school last week to clear up some of the lack of communication issues and try to establish some sort of understanding between us and the teacher, so that we felt more comfortable. Youngest then managed to develop hugely swollen glands on her neck with no other symptoms, last Thursday, the day she was due to start going to school on her own. A trip to the homeopath suggested a virus that her system was fighting, so we postponed the school attempt till today, the last week of term, but still.

This morning she got dressed and had breakfast quite happily, packed her bag with her snack and climbed into the car. I was allowing myself to hope a little bit... until we arrived at school, the big kids leapt out of the car and disappeared, but Youngest sat firmly in her seat holding determinedly on to the seat belt.

"I'm not going" emerged sottovoce from clenched teeth.

I was firm, encouraging, rational, to no avail.

I used superior force to remove her from the car.

She used speed and agility to nip round the other side of the car and attach herself limpet-like to the head-rest supports of the passenger seat.

I reiterated my calm but firm approach.

I tried unsuccessfully to prise her away from the car superstructure.

After ten minutes of wrangling, I managed to loosen her grip and carry her sobbing and struggling through the car park, along the path to the door of the kindergarten.

I told her that I was going to hand her over to the teacher and come back at the end of the morning… did so and turned resolutely away.

Everyone tells you that it is worse for you, that they are fine the moment you are gone, but still there is always that lingering fear that you are betraying them, scarring them for life, sending them into therapy for years. A peacock flew in front of my car as I drove back up the dirt road to our farm. Was it an omen - good or bad - aren't they supposed to be bad luck - hadn't I better do her numerology for the day - shouldn't I have done it before.

I kept it together for the morning, did a bit of work, then went back really early to make sure I wouldn't be late fetching her, prepared for reproachful glances and mutterings.

You've guessed it - she was fine! Some of it was boring but she'd done a drawing and liked playing outside.

So now let's hope that tomorrow morning she'll walk in, of her own accord. She isn't too impressed when I tell her that she has to go every school day from now on, so I don't think it'll be plain sailing, but at least we've cleared the first fence.

(apologies for the mixed metaphors - my brain is now fried and can't come up with anything better!)

Dog Days

The dog days of summer are here, at least it must be the tail end now, (but wagging furiously!), those sultry, stifling days of heat that are summer's last blast before it renounces its sway to the mists of autumn. We've already had a few misty mornings, dressing up in layers for the morning school run, only to collect children, arms piled high with shed clothes, from a scorching dusty car park in a car with non-functional air conditioning.

I only recently found out where the expression 'dog days' came from. (Google is a wonderful resource!) I used to think it was something to do with 'shouldn't do it to a dog' or 'mad dogs and Englishmen', images of dogs lying flat out panting in the shade, but then I found out it's all about Sirius the dog star, who rises with the sun in full summer in the Northern Hemisphere. This probably means that we don't officially have proper dog days here in South Africa ….so all I can say is that it's blooming hot!

The perfect thing to find on the table for lunch, when we get back from the swelter of the school run, is a huge watermelon, cool crisp and fresh. I hardly ever buy them on my weekly shop, the trolley is usually too full and my budget already stretched to the max by the time I reach the fresh produce section. So I rely on my husband to impulse buy, for a steady supply. Asked to pick up some milk in Spar after an appointment in town, he turns our usual bread and cheese lunch into a feast, with a bagful of flavours - samoosas, salami, fresh rolls and the enormous elongated watermelon. It'll last several days, filling up the fridge with the rest, but guaranteeing a steady supply of sweet, refreshing crunch.

Returning to the dog theme - we have a new addition to the family, a short haired Jack Russell called Amy. You have to understand that she has inveigled her way into our home in the face of all my reserves of passive resistance ... obviously not very forceful when it comes to the crunch.

After Vygie died, the children immediately wanted to know - when could they get another dog? They wanted a small one to play with, perhaps another dachshund like the one their aunt had just adopted from a Rescue Centre. We put them off - maybe in the summer holidays.

The holidays came and went and they realised that we still only had three dogs. I put my foot tentatively down. Enough dogs, enough puddles on the floor, enough barking to go out in the night, enough money spent on tick collars and flea spray …boring Mum stuff ... like all the boring Mums in stories who deny their kids the joy of animals of their own. After all three dogs and three cats, plus a rabbit and two guinea-pigs clearly aren't enough for one family.

So when my sister-in-law came home from work, with the sad story of a colleague who needed a new home for his beloved pet, which was being bullied by his fiancee's two pugs, I said "Hmphh", as the children all joyfully chorused "Yes!"

I knew I was on a losing wicket. Amy was brought to visit, to demonstrate how sweet and well trained she is, and here she stayed. She is sweet. And not nearly as crazy wild as some of the Jack Russells that I've come across.

The cats have had to deal with her firmly. One duck sacrificed its life for her to learn that important farm life lesson - No chasing the tempting feathery creatures. I'm wondering if she will one day try to jump into the rabbit enclosure, but so far she is now keeping her killer instinct to the safer ground of footballs, rugby balls and any other balls that she can get her teeth into.

So apart from the fact that she keeps nicking MY place on the sofa, and I keep being mean Mum and insisting that a dog's place is on the floor, she has settled in pretty well.

Kindergarten Blues

This week has been a major struggle with our attempt to get Youngest into kindergarten. She is five now and should have one year of kindergarten before starting school next year, though she is on the cusp of the cut-off birthday date and so could wait one more year after that.

She went to another small kindergarten with her big sister for a few months when she was 3 ½ but then suddenly went through a huge separation anxiety phase for several months. (We're not sure what triggered it, though she had been sick that week, and her favourite aunt had been in hospital with pneumonia a month before that).

Last year I tried to start her in the kindergarten of the school where the older children are (the small one having closed), but it was big and noisy and she really didn't seem ready, so I left it till this year, since I'm working from home anyway. She spent her mornings last year quite happily playing elaborate imaginative games, drawing, playing with the rabbit and guinea-pigs, while I was at the computer.

The beginning of this school year found me back in the UK, my father having just died, so my husband was left with the job of taking her to the first day at school. He stayed with her for a couple of hours and then left her. She retreated behind the curtains for the rest of the morning, neither eating nor going to the loo, nor playing. He decided to wait.

Once I got back we decided that I should take her a couple of mornings per week and stay with her, to give her a chance to get used to it all and find her feet. So we've done that for about three weeks now, some days going quite well, other days with hiccups. I've been trying to stay unobtrusively in the background wherever possible, finding sewing jobs to do to stop me going crazy with the tedium! She has got one friend there, so she has been alright as long as she could sit beside this friend, hold hands with this friend at ring time and play with her in outside time. Any unfamiliar activity had her retreating back to the curtains or to me, but I was hoping that we're making progress.

She had a gastric flu bug at the beginning of last week though - not too bad but a fever for a couple of days, which sent her back into cling mode. We missed a day of school and I turned up with her the next day to be told that the teachers had decided that I shouldn't stay any more with her, that it was school policy that parents shouldn't stay and that if a child wasn't ready to leave its mother then it wasn't ready for school. I was first upset then furious. I insisted on staying with her that day, as we'd had no preparation for this next step - the kindergarten teacher said it was fine with her, that it was a decision made at the teachers' meeting and I should discuss it with the other teachers.

I've spent the rest of the week in an emotional turmoil trying to work out the right thing to do - for her. I protested to the teachers and I can write a letter to ask them to reconsider, but that doesn't help for next week. We've had a couple of conversations with Youngest herself to prepare her for going by herself, but this separation thing is still a huge issue for her and so far she is adamant that she isn't going to go without me. This child is by far the most stubborn (or strong-willed if you prefer!) of the three, but also extremely sensitive, so I worry about her being traumatised if we take her in kicking and screaming against her will.

One element in all this is that we are not 100% confident in the kindergarten itself. The previous one was small with 12 children and an experienced teacher. This one has 25 kids, a teacher and assistant, but less experienced. The older two are at this school though and any alternative would mean another half hour drive and complicated school run logistics, so we want to give it a chance.

My husband is deputed to have another talk with her. Right now the emotional washing machine inside me means I can't see straight on it, let alone be detached and convincing about why she should be brave and take a deep breath and go.

Has anyone else had to deal with this level of separation anxiety? She was fine when I went to England, it is just with regard to school that it is a big deal again, and when she was sick and had to have me near her all the time. I am flirting with the idea that there is some past life baggage behind it all, as there is no great trauma in this life to explain it. Or is you don't do past lives, then just part of her character that she was born with - her major life challenge. Shame that her parents have to go through the wringer too!

Edited to add: I've just looked back at my post from her first leaving kindergarten in 2006 - my blithe confidence that it was going to be a short lived phase has be in growls of sardonic laughter!

And the Bride Wore Red

You all wanted to see the pics so here they are! I had to take photos of the photograph album, so the quality is a bit dodgy but you get the idea.

First of all with my Dad waiting halfway up the garden while they get themselves sorted inside.

Then the rings - such concentration. And nasturtiums in my hair.

It's done!

Lunch in the apricot orchard.

The Marriage Meme

Charlotte tentatively tagged me for this one and it's so long since I did a meme that I leapt on it. Plus it's lovely to be invited to spend time recollecting our wedding day of course!

1. Where/how did you meet?
At his photographic studio in London. A friend of mine was taking part in an exhibition he was putting on and I was at a loose end so went along to help …and stayed!

2. How long have you known each other?
14 years. We were late starters!

3. How long after you met did you start dating?
It took about a week of me being a calm and indispensable presence in the middle of a maelstrom of exhibition mayhem. We never did the going out on dates thing though, too broke for the most part, so we just hung out at the studio a lot.

4. How long did you date before getting engaged?
A year and a bit. He was always intending to come back to South Africa, so we made a couple of trips over here and met his family before he popped the question on the second visit, once I'd proved I could cope with SA and his family!

5. How long was your engagement?
5 months. We had to arrange yet another trip back to get married in South Africa as his parents were getting too old to travel. Mine we knew would enjoy the trip out here ..at least we hoped they would!

6. How long have you been married?
12.5 years

7. What is your anniversary?
30th September

8. How many people came to your wedding reception?
About 30 or so.

9. What kind of cake did you serve?
I don't think we had one at all!

10. Where was your wedding?
At his parents cottage in a small town in a wine growing area in the Cape. The local magistrate was very kind and came to the house to marry us on a Saturday rather than have us come to her office, as we were flying over from the UK just before the wedding.

11. What did you serve for the meal?
A friend brought her own farm butter and home-made bread, which we had with gravad lax to start. Then we had the most wonderful whole fillet steak, cooked on the braai and crusted in black pepper and sea salt - it was so tender and succulent, I can still taste it! I can't remember what the puddings were but there would have been lots of them.

12. How many people were in your bridal party?
All 30 of them. They all crowded into the sitting room together then my father walked me up the garden path to the door and we had a very short and simple ceremony. My husband vowed to bring me breakfast in bed sometimes amongst the usual things!

13. Are you still friends with them?
Yes - they were all family and close friends, though the friends are spread over a wide range of countries now. We've only completely lost touch with my brother's then girlfriend, now ex.

14. Did your spouse cry during the wedding ceremony?
Nope!

15. Most special moment of your wedding day?
All of it - I felt all aglow the whole day.

16. Any funny moments?
My sister-in-law thought we should have some music to come in to and started singing Happy Birthday! My brother with perfect timing after we'd given each other a first big kiss as a married couple solemnly intoned "You may now kiss the bride". Otherwise there was a constant stream of talk and laughter through the day.

17. Any big disasters?
No - though it was all very last minute organization - we were buying the champagne from Graham Beck at the estate at 4.30 the afternoon before our wedding day, and only got to the next estate, where we wanted to get our red wine from, just before it closed!

18. Where did you honeymoon?
We had an enormous breakfast at the Mount Nelson, Cape Town's finest old Belle Epoque hotel, with some of the friends who'd come out from England, before parting ways, then we headed up the West Coast to explore. We then had a massive sea-food blow-out on the beach, where I over-indulged on the warm pot-bread and got massive indigestion, prior to coming down with the flu, so we headed back to his parents house and took to our bed!

19. For how long?
We had about three weeks in SA altogether, but the rest of it was visiting with family, so we never really got the romantic honeymoon experience.

20. If you were to do your wedding over, what would you change?
The only thing we didn't think of was music, too busy concentrating on food. I'd have got somebody to play for us and had some great background music too.

21. What side of the bed do you sleep on?
Left.

22. What size is your bed?
King size to have room for kids too, though now they hardly ever need it.

23. Greatest strength as a couple?
We like being together and can work together too.

24. Greatest challenge as a couple?
Neither of us is at all tidy. Actually that isn't really a challenge - it just means we live in a messy house.

25. Who literally pays the bills?
These days he does - I used to, but once the babies came I handed over the chore.

26. What is your song?
Soppy stuff - Dusty Springfield - The Look of Love!

27. What did you dance your first dance to?
We didn't dance at the wedding - what a missed opportunity!

28. Describe your wedding dress?
I'd always wanted to get married in red and orange - so I had a dark red silk wrapover skirt and a burnt orange silk vest top, with a dark red and gold silk scarf and orange nasturtiums plaited into my hair.

29. What kind of flowers did you have at your wedding?
I carried three arum lilies, freshly picked that morning from a ditch by one of our guests.

30. Are your wedding bands engraved?
No.

The Wisdom of Solomon?

We have our main meal in the evening, together as a family and my sister-in-law usually sits with us. It's her time to catch up with the children, read them a story while I'm cooking, share the events of our day. There are often two simultaneous conversations going on at the supper table - adult conversation interweaves with the children's non-sequiturs and general clamour as all three kids try to get in their 2 cents worth.

Last night the conversation turned to Jacob Zuma (recently elected president of the ANC, despite a contraversial impending court case) and the latest newspaper headlines of his plans to take on two more wives this year, making a total of five. The adults shook their heads in despair at the retrogressive international figure he is cutting and hoping against hope that we don't end up with him as president of our country, feeling sure that fate will come to our aid and deal out some just desserts. One of us commented on his sheer irresponsibility and the terrible example he is setting to South African men in treating women as possessions and in fathering as many as 25 children.

Our son had obviously been following the conversation, for here he chipped in with:

"That's nothing. Solomon had 200 children. He had lots of wives. I think he had a weakness for girls…"

We collapsed.

Modern life holds no surprises once you've studied the Old Testament!

A Recipe for Rainy Day Soup

Sometimes it rains in summer here too - an ideal opportunity to enjoy being cool, the smell of damp hot earth, lavender releasing its scent, the novelty of raindrops splashing on your head and finally get a chance to use those umbrellas ... as a camp for your owls on the stoep ... and cook them some soup with 100% organic ingredients. Here is my children's recipe for rainy day soup:

1. First catch your rainwater.

2. Add some finely ground clay dust for colour and thickness.

3. Stir it up with lavender leaves.

4. Grind some shale into rough chunks and add to the mix.

5. Cook slowly for a minute or two.

6. Serve straight from the pan. Spoon feed if required.

It's the SA Blog Awards again!

It's that time of year again - the time when all South African bloggers chew their finger-nails in the exciting contest that is the SA Blog Awards, elbow each other as they hustle up the red carpet all for the honour and prestige of it...and of course the grand prize of 2008 south african cents or to put it into perspective R20.08. which will almost buy a bar of Green and Black's Maya Gold chocolate ...almost ...you'd have to scape together the other R5 from your loose change bowl in coppers, but it does go some of the way towards satisfying an unsupported chocolate craving!

Anyway you've got till Friday to nominate your favourite SA blogs so please click on the button to choose me, me, me!!! Then fill in all the blanks with some of the other fine South African bloggers such as Cooksister, Charlotte's Web, Vanielje Kitchen or look at Cooksister's list for more inspiration! They've increased the number and scope of categories this year and asked you to give reasons for voting for the blogs you like, all new and improved on last year.

Here are the rules which I have lazily copied and pasted from Cooksister!

Once you've had a browse and decided who you like, head on over to the 2008 SA Blog Awards site, read the small print and get nominating. In short, the important rules are:

• Only ONE nomination per person is allowed, so do give some thought to your nominations. Send a second sheet and your first will be cancelled.
• You MUST nominate at least three different blogs
  
• You will need to provide the URL of each nomination and a reason for your nomination.
• You MUST provide a name and valid e-mail address in order to nominate.
• You'll get a confirmation e-mail and will need to click on the confirmation link for your vote to count.
  

Nominations are open until Friday 22 February 2008, after which the 10 blogs with the most nominations in each category (taking into account their relevance to the category in which they have been nominated) will go through to the finals. Final voting will be open to the public from Monday 3 March 2008 till midnight Friday 14 March 2008. During the final voting stage, you will be able to cast your vote on the 2008 Awards website and a panel of bloggers and "celebrity judges" will also judge the nominated blogs in each category. Their and your votes will be tallied and the top blogs resulting from this in each category will be announced as winners on 3 April.

Language

Driving home from dropping the older kids off at school, Youngest on the back seat, apropos of nothing, comes out with the F word. It sounds strange and innocent tripping off her lips.

After a pause I calmly say:

" You do know that that is a very rude word don't you?"

"Yes," she replies, "it's not Afrikaans, it's German for poo."

What can I say, we live in a multilingual society here in South Africa!

Home Again

I'm back home now and back into my everyday life again. It took a while to adjust back. The contrast between a Somerset winter of mild grey days and the South African summer with its dry air and shimmering light; the sleepless night flight and travelling; the emerging from the insulated bubble that seems to surround you after someone has died with its intense focus on that person, the reminiscences and the practical pulling together as a family; with all of that I felt like I did when we used to visit South Africa on holiday - unreal, foreign, not quite all there, with my feet hovering above the ground.

A weekend of drifting and then the demands of school, of picking up the thread of work again with my clients, pulled me back into myself again. Youngest's start at kindergarten hadn't gone well. My husband had tried to take her when the school term started while I was still away. She had refused to join in with anything and when he left her after two hours had stayed behind a curtain, refused to go to the loo and only eaten her sandwiches later outside on her own. Wisely he'd decided to leave another go until I was back.

So this week I spent two mornings at kindergarten with her, to try and make her feel secure enough to at least try and join in. Part of her problem is that she is shy of strangers and refuses to let anyone she doesn't know touch her or help her.. and that includes the teachers. Plus she has an innate fear of failure - hating to get anything wrong and she'd rather not join in with a song or game that she doesn't know than risk embarrassing herself by getting it wrong - a big burden for a five year old, who hasn't had time to learn everything in the whole world just yet.

The two mornings went better than I thought and on the second day she actually went off to play out of my line of vision with two girls that she knows from before. I'll have to keep going a bit longer though, as any new song or activity puts her back to the starting point of insecurity and the teachers are still Public Enemy Number 1 in her eyes! So another two mornings of unutterable tedium for me next week - I need to find some sewing or something to keep me busy so that I can gradually fade into the wallpaper as she finds her feet.

Meanwhile we are having hot hot weather, relieved a bit by rain last night, though it is still horribly humid and the worst indignity of all - a mole has killed off my mulberry tree, which was growing brilliantly and had the most delicious fruit, and it has now sunk into the ground and is lolling at a drunken angle. There are still a few roots attached so I've filled in the ground around it and watered profusely, but I think the mole is just saving those roots for afters, so I don't hold out much hope. We are seriously considering putting our organic principles to one side and resorting to gassing the creatures. BTW these aren't the cute little English moles, these are great huge African moles with long teeth, capable of turning a lawn into the Sahara desert in a matter of days and dragging tasty plants and trees into the ground to munch on at their leisure.

I want to say a huge thank you to everybody who commented here and sent messages of sympathy to me and my family. It was enormously comforting feeling that wave of energy and the sense of community from the blog world, from friends and friends of friends, and we all really appreciated it.

My Dad

Thank you for all your thoughts and good wishes.

My Dad died peacefully this morning, so I'm flying over to be with my Mum for the next little while.

I think it was just his time. He'd been uncomfortable and in pain for a while now, though nothing specific had been diagnosed. Anyway now his spirit is free and on its next journey. I wish him well and hope he can see all the love and support that we are still sending him. The children have drawn some amazing pictures for Granny and Grandpa and want me to put them in his coffin to go with him to heaven.

Apples and Thyme - For both my Parents

My earliest memories of cooking with my mother are those of a salivating onlooker, eyes just about clearing the wooden trolley that was her work surface in the small galley kitchen of our flat, anxiously watching as she all too thoroughly scraped the chocolate cake batter into the cake tin. Her hand-written recipe book, bursting with loose leaves of recipes tucked into the back, would be somewhere on the trolley with a light dusting of flour on its pages.

We were always convinced there wouldn't be enough left for us and clamoured as the spatula did its job too well for us. In the end there always was plenty for us to 'lick the bowl', scraping out with our teaspoons, but the draw of the cake mixture had us under her feet in the small space from the word go. She must have borne with us patiently enough, for a few years later I was proudly baking my own biscuits, drop scones and cakes, having absorbed the know-how over the years of impatiently waiting for the cake bowl to be handed over. Now my children are right there at my elbow in a frenzy of anticipation just the same - I have to do a little surreptitious scraping of my own before handing it over - I haven't grown out of wanting to lick the bowl yet!

My preference for baking cakes whenever I need to make our house feel homely, my opening the recipe book (mine is a file of plastic sleeves stuffed with pages of copied down recipes) even when I've made a recipe a thousand times before, have all been handed down directly from her... and we both make a pretty good cake!

This is part of the post I've been meaning to write for ages for Vanieljie Kitchen's Apples and Thyme blog event, which celebrates time spent in the kitchen with mothers and grandmothers.

What makes remembering my childhood poignant to me at the moment is that my father, Derek, is in hospital back in Somerset in the UK, with pneumonia. His whole system is tired after months of struggling with ill health and we are all sending him positive healing energy, prayers and love to help him recover and get home as soon as possible. I would love it if some of my blog friends could help by sending thoughts, prayers, energy or light to him. And of course to my mother, to help her with the hardship of seeing one's loved partner of so many years in pain and trouble.

Daddy, I've been sending you South African energy all day, looking at Table Mountain, sending you thoughts from the cricket field where your grandson was playing a match today: green grass; nine years olds shouting at each other to try for fours 'cos they're safer than sixes, you don't get caught; disappointment as he got caught for 1 run; triumph as he bowled a maiden over. I hope the distilled essence of it reached you, with the scent of a hot summer's day and the smell of cut grass, tall trees shading the edge of the field, the sides of Table Mountain looming benevolently. All the family are just going to the circle to send you some more special energy now. All our love, Kit