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| Slipperhead |
Dinner with Martha
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“I’m thinking…”
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Snack time |
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| Wearing my party dress |
Holding my balloon
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Cakeys!
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“Eat it, cakey!!” |
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| Our little fairy |
Watering the balcony
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Watering the mint
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Climbing |
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July 31, 2003 Pitched our little tent next to Ben and Michaela’s massive new family tent, with sleeping compartment, large living area, and storage porch. What with the two girls (Aphra – 5, and Poppy – 8 months), and all the paraphernalia, toys, food, pram, folding chairs and other supplies, you could see why it was time to upgrade from a dome tent. They’d actually pitched their old tent to hold a space for us, and we used that for Nova’s cot and for storing clothes and food. Had “a nice cup of tea” the way the English always do at every opportuniity, before heading down into the main site. Stopped to have pizza for lunch. Nova refused to touch her slice, except to pick off the olives. She wasn’t very happy about things and kept saying, “Home…” in a plaintive little voice. Aphra was trying to involve her in all manner of complicated-sounding games, but Nova blanked her. After lunch, Michaela went off to meet her dad (an English professor from NYC, who was joining us for the weekend) and we took Nova to the kid’s field. It was full of rides, craft tents, play tents, a massive sand pit, a huge, ramshackle vehicle constructed of bicycles, wood, and who-knows-what-else that several people were managing to pedal around the grass. There were stilt walkers, characters in huge papier mache masks, jugglers, and a group drumming away madly. Nova had a couple of goes on a hand-cranked swing/merry-go-round, which she loved. It was starting to rain by this point, so we ducked into the Croissant Neuf tent, where an outlandlishly dressed choir of hippie-types was earnestly attempting a range of international folk songs. Nova loved the singing, and loved joining in the applause even more. She stood right in front of the stage beaming away, and doing the funny sort of swaying-twirling that she calls dancing until the performance ended. As the afternoon wore on, Nova became increasingly capricious and difficult to manage. We thought food might be the answer (given she’d had two olives for lunch). She objected to whatever we put in front of her, even though we’d managed to find a place that did a pasta and olive salad. She ate some of the wholewheat bread, but completely refused the beautiful roast corn-on-the-cob we’d bought from the Caribbean food tent. (Perhaps burning her finger touching the huge cast iron drum barbeque they were cooking on put her off.) She was happier at the Bedouin Cafe, where we stopped for tea and cakes before heading back to the tents. We tried settling her in her cot, but she wasn’t having any of it, and howled until we brought her into the other tent. I tucked her into a sleeping bag, and lay down beside her and she fell asleep within minutes. It was raining pretty hard by now, and the others had gathered in the big tent to drink wine, but it was impossible to hear Nova with the rain and wind, so I didn’t stay long before joining her for an early night. |
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July 30, 2003 It’s been a struggle, but this afternoon I finally completed draft 5 of the group’s vision paper for the new web presence and circulated it to the wider organisation for comment, which was a very satisfying note to end the week on. Loads of packing to get ready for our festival camping weekend. We called Ben and Michaela who were already on site to ask if there were any last minute requests. “Wellington boots, please!” they cried, which is a bit ominous… We were already planning to bring our wellies (I’d no more go to a festival without wellies than I’d go camping without a tent) but we’ll try to pick some up for them en route. I was pretty tired from my late night working on the vision paper, but we managed to get all the packing and chores done by midnight. Aiming for that elusive early start as usual… |
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July 29, 2003 Of course, I hadn’t got her half way up North Hill before she was bellowing about something or other, and at home she flew into a rage when I suggested serving some dinner. “NO DINNER! LUNCH!!!” she roared. I suppose it’s preferable that she acts well when she’s with others, and reserves the worst of her wrath for me, but what a little Jekyll-and-Hyde… |
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July 28, 2003 I had the prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy, and brought it back for her to inject into my bum. (It’s always a surprise how much needles in the bum hurt — such a small injection in such a broad expanse of flesh and yet they really ache…) Finally got to the office about 11:30am — this scanning is playing havoc with my working life. According to Yvonne, the egg should release in the next 36 hours so Adam and I should go at it “hammer and tongs” for the next few nights. We’ll do our best, but we’re going camping at the Big Green Gathering on Thursday, and I don’t imagine there’ll be much scope for action there… |
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July 27, 2003 It was a lovely afternoon, and we threw together a simple Mexican supper: refried beans, avocado, salsa, cheese, and tortillas grilled on the barbeque. Nova wasn’t particularly bothered about eating, and made her escape to the lawn as soon as possible. After running around a bit, she climbed up the Stillman’s back steps and into their living room before I could catch up with her, so we all ended up there for tea and cakes. She seemed to regain her appetite, and ate about three of Anne’s little cakes. When Anne offered the plate round, there were some obviously homemade lumps as well as the store-bought fairy cakes. “I made these, although I wouldn’t recommend them. They aren’t very sweet,” she said. I gallantly said I’d love to try one. I took one bite, and it was all I could do not to spit it straight back out (and anyone who knows me knows that I’m as far from a fussy eater as a person can be). They were truly inedible — dry yet simultaneously oily, coating the roof of my mouth with a thick grease. They weren’t sweet, but my, were they salty. They were also very large… I went out on the sundeck on some pretext and crumbled most of the nasty thing into the jasmine bush, popping the last bit into my mouth on my return, and washing it down with a mouthful of tea. |
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July 26, 2003 We’d made some purchases for Rob and Jemima, and when we stopped by to drop them off, they invited us for an impromptu lunch. She’d made a delicious salad of roast chicken, cantaloupe, and lettuce with a light, creamy dressing, and we contributed breadsticks, grapes, and beer from our Costco purchases. Adam spent the evening working on his research for Rebecca. I hung out in the bedroom talking on the phone, watching telly, and doing my nails. I felt like a teenager home on a Saturday night without a date or party to go to… |
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July 25, 2003 It was kind of comforting to me having her there actually, and also a reminder that we have had a successful pregnancy and could have another one. Back home at the ranch, I was painting my toenails, when Nova said, “Nova nails too!” I painted her toenails electric blue, which pleased her no end. Just two girls hanging out together… Went to a West Indian restaurant in Kentish Town, called Cottons for dinner. Going early the way you do with small children, we managed to catch happy hour, and had two-for-one rum punches and Kingston mules (rum, lime, ginger beer) to accompany our delicious jerk fish, avocado salad and roti. Nova wasn’t all that cooperative, but the reggae music was so blaringly loud she didn’t disturb anyone but us. After she went down for the night, we watched a Sandra Bullock movie so unmemorable I can’t recall what it was called, and can barely remember the far-fetched plot of Sandra as a hardbitten, near-murder-victim, tough cop on the trail of two teenaged murderers… |
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July 24, 2003 Had a walk and a swing in Waterlow Park, and stopped for lunch in the cafe before heading back to their place. Nova saw Ruby’s little swimming pool in the courtyard, and immediately started pulling off her clothes. After they’d had their swim, the two girls were running in and out of the house with no clothes on. I said to Jemima, “I hope she won’t pee on your carpet — she hasn’t really grasped the potty concept yet.” Jemima replied, “Oh, we’re pretty laid back about that kind of thing, a bit of wee on the carpet is no big deal.” It wasn’t five minutes before Nova came staggering out of Ruby’s bedroom with crap dripping down both legs. She done a massive poop on Ruby’s bedroom carpet. Not one of those tidy little numbers that you pick up with a tissue and flush down the loo, a big gooey, smelly splash of poo in the middle of the floor with a couple of satellite sites in other parts of the room. Jemima kindly hosed Nova off in the courtyard while I dealt with the disaster on the floor. It took about eight wipes to get the solids off, a few antiseptic wipes to kill most of the germs (I hope), and a good deal of scrubbing and sponging with water and soap to finish off. Not pleasant. |
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| July 23, 2003 Went for my second scan today. Showed up at the same time as I did on Monday, but it was even slower today, and I ended up being a half an hour late for my all-day job sharing workshop. There were two job share teams from my agency and a course leader, and together we explored how our job shares are working, advantages and disadvantages of job sharing, and how things could be improved. I was a very worthwhile day, and really interesting to discover how differently the other two job sharers had arranged things. |
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| July 22, 2003 Adam sold another piece of work today, three days research for an article on ethical consumerism his previous boss Rebecca is going to write. He’s already lined up three days of business consultancy for September, which is pretty impressive going… |
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July 21, 2003 Appointments are one a first-come-first-served basis, and although I showed up 20 minutes before they started seeing people, it was still an hour before I’d been seen. Took the results up to Yvonne in the EPDU (another 20 minutes — everything looks fine so far), and eventually got to the office an hour and a half late. I have to repeat this process every second day until I’ve ovulated, which is going to be a pain in the ass on work days… |
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July 20, 2003 Phoned and sang happy birthday to Wendy before Nova’s bath. She’s really getting into baths at the moment, and has one every night, filled with bubbles and teapots, cups, jugs, balls, toothbrushes and anything else she can dream up. It can be problematic bringing bath time to a close, so I’ve taken to sneakily shifting the plug off its moorings when she’s distracted, and letting the bath slowly as if it’s got a mind of its own. “Oh, bath’s over!” I say, when she finds herself sitting in a little slick of water at the bottom of the tub, and she cheerfully climbs out and into her little white towelling robe. There is something about the ways she struts about in that robe that makes her look like a miniature tycoon in one of those health clubs where powerful men go to cement business deals in the steam room. |
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| July 19, 2003 It was another beautiful sunny day today — I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve a proper summer this year — it seems like years since the sun has shone like this in London. Had a picnic lunch on the Heath. We parked up on a nice sheltered piece of grass near the mixed bathing pond, and Adam went for a dip to cool his throbbing head. We all came back for an afternoon snooze. Took Nova over to Doron and Antonia’s this evening. We went a couple of hours early so she could have a chance to get used to their new house before we put her down. We had organised anything for the evening, and by the time we finished dinner it was too late to catch a film anywhere local. We went to bed early with a cup of tea and watched Law and Order in bed. Cathy’s teenage daughters were having a lively party a couple of doors down. It was loud enough that we couldn’t have the windows open and hope to hear the TV. With all the busybodies in the close, I knew it wouldn’t be long before someone put a stop to the festivities, and sure enough, by 10:30pm they’d turned off the music… We had a big party in the summer of 1995 — the year we moved in — featuring a Texas mickey of Canadian Club I’d brought back from a recent trip to BC. (I always thought there was a sort of racy glamour attached to Texas mickeys. The Drexels across the street used to have one on the wet bar in their rec room, and I was fascinated and a little bit scared by the sheer size of it. When I saw them for sale in Vancouver airport I just couldn’t resist, and even though it blew my duty-free allowance sky high, nobody stopped me when I wheeled it through customs at Heathrow…) Anyway, we planted the Texas mickey in the middle of the table, surrounded by ice bucket, various mixers, and trays of retro sandwiches and cheese-and-olive-on-a-stick type canapes. There were only about 30 guests, but the strength of the drinks and lack of food meant that most people got pretty plastered and wild. (Adam was an early casualty — Ben carried him downstairs about 11pm, and when I drunkenly tried to rouse him at 3am, he reared up, seized my forearm and attempted to bite me before falling back on the pillows fast asleep.) By midnight, Ann Stillman next door had had enough, and called to complain. I don’t know how I heard the phone ring, but I certainly couldn’t hear a word she said. “Turn the music down!” she finally shrieked loud enough for me to hear. I tried to keep a lid on things after that, but it wasn’t easy… The last guests left about 4:30am, or so we thought… It was the kind of party where people kept surfacing from various nooks and crannies over the next morning and afternoon — four houseguests, when we had thought there were only two… We crept around for the next few days, avoiding the Stillmans, until Ann called and apologised for her outburst, and we’ve been great friends ever since. Haven’t had another party like that one though… |
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July 18, 2003 Made a big batch of gazpacho, and had some for lunch. We nearly always have a jug of gazpacho in the fridge during the summer. Adam brought a flask of it down to the hospital for me when I was recovering from Nova’s birth. Went for dinner at Pete and Pasc’s this evening. Nova was supposed to go to Doron and Antonia’s but she got so fractious at dinnertime, it didn’t seem fair to inflict her on them, and we put her down in her own bed, and just bundled her up and carried it over to their house at 8pm. Pascale — who would be the first person to admit that cooking isn’t her strong suit — outdid herself this evening, and created a dish Adam christened chicken provençale, baking chicken breasts with garlic, tomatoes, olives and served them with rosemary roast potatoes and steamed green beans. (Dessert was tinned custard heated in the microwave and served with squares of milk chocolate buried and slightly melted within — surprisingly good…) After dinner we played a round of Articulate, something we often do round theirs, girls against the boys this time. (For those who don’t know the game, each team takes turns trying to get their partner to guess as many words as possible in a particular category in a fixed period of time. You read the word from a card and describe it to your partner (“Mediterranean country, shaped like a boot” “Italy!” etc) It was a very close and heated match, but the girls took it in the end. Things degenerated a bit from that point. Pasc broke out the port, and the men engaged in a contest to see who could cram the most grapes in their mouth without crushing them. Pete managed 32, Adam 33… (Photographic evidence may follow…) Home about 1am… |
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| July 17, 2003 Not feeling so great today, surprise, surprise… Took Nova for her two year assessment with the health visitor. She was a bit suspicious of Trish (who’s the loveliest woman imaginable), especially as the clinic is next door to the doctor’s office. She kept saying, “No doctor!” no matter how many times I reassured her. Trish told me that she still remembers her home visit to us when Nova was three weeks old. She said of the hundreds of babies she’s visited at that age, Nova was so unusually alert and engaged that it’s always stuck with her, and she’s mentioned it to other people. She asked if she’s showing unusual mathematical abilities, and I told her that she’s been counting to 20 (with the exception of 13) for months now. “She’s very clever,” Trish said. Other than that, it was a matter of manipulating toys, checking her vocabulary, getting her to do a little colouring, and weighing and measuring her — weight – 28lb (75th percentile) and height 89cm (91st percentile). Adam drove Greg and Wendy to Heathrow while we were gone. The house seemed very empty when we returned. When Nova asked about them, I told her they were on the airplane. Every time a plane went over (and in the summer months we are on a flight path) she’d say, “Uncle Greg plane! Auntie Wendy plane!“ |
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| July 16, 2003 Happy anniversary, Greg and Wendy! It’s Greg and Wendy’s last day before they fly home. Doron, Antonia and Oliver came round, and we had some champagne. The Stillmans had invited us round for a drink, so the party shifted next door for an hour and a half (and a couple more bottles of champagne). Freddy and Beulah showed up at 7:45 to babysit the two kids, and the six of us taxied down to Sartaj Balti House in Seven Dials. I used to eat at the Sartaj pretty regularly when I worked at Dorling Kindersley. Their late opening hours ensured that many an after work drink ended up with a dozen of us piling into the Sartaj for a curry and more unnecessary beers. It was a really close evening and the restaurant was stuffy and hot, but the food was good, and we had no trouble dispatching the pillowcase-sized family naan. After dinner, we bought drinks from the pub across the way and sat on the base of the monument in the centre of the roundabout enjoying the night breeze and West End buzz. Europeans are so much more civilised about alcohol than North Americans are. It is puritanical and patronising and ridiculous that you can’t buy your wine in the supermarket, or have a beer with your picnic in the park. It’s always a shock to encounter the Canadian liquor laws on our visits home. |
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| July 15, 2003 Happy 23rd birthday, Landyn! Home a bit early to take Nova for her jabs. She was in a great mood when we picked her up at nursery, and I felt like a real turncoat taking her to the doctors. She had two jabs — a Hib booster and her MMR, and wasn’t very happy about it. She cried quite a bit, although a certain amount wasover having to relinquish the doctor’s toys when the appointment was over… It was mostly forgotten by the time we got home. Went for a family dinner at the Mulan in Belsize Park. There used to be a great Chinese restaurant in Highgate Village, but the owners retired a few years ago. Good Chinese food is a rare commodity in London, and we were very pleased when we found the Mulan by chance. Oddly enough, the owner had considered buying the Dragonseed and had worked there for a few months, before deciding to open the Mulan instead. There is a similar feel to the two places, and the food is very good. We ordered crispy duck to start, followed by Szechuan chicken, dryfried green beans, crispy noodles, steamed rice, salt and pepper squid, and tamarind prawns. Nova behaved really well, aside from a determination to accumulate everybody’s chopsticks. I wonder if the place feels familiar to her. When I was pregnant, the closest I got to a craving was a hankering for Chinese food, and we had several meals there when Nova was a “bump”. |
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| July 14, 2003 My ankles are still pretty swollen. I’m starting to think that I got off lucky with just the rope burn and mild sprains. Two broken ankles would have been a real downer… There’s something about having injuries that makes me feel young though. Injuries acquired while being reckless and fun-seeking, instead of the usual litany of chronic middle-aged complaints — sore back, creaking knees, proto arthritis — that just make me feel old. It was a frantic day at work. I’ve got so much on at the moment — two articles to write, the website rationalisation to lead, two sites to redesign, one to build, not to mention my usual writing, updating and maintenance tasks and endless string of meetings. If I were to sit at my desk for three weeks straight I wouldn’t get through it all. Met Greg, Wendy and Adam after work and went for a few drinks in a couple of local Farringdon pubs — the Cittie of Yorke and the Old Mitre (and back to the Cittie of Yorke again — Greg and Wendy liked that one) before heading home for a dinner of Greek salad, tzatsiki, hummus, pitta and lamb and mint sausages grilled on the barbeque. In bed before 10pm for once. |
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| July 13, 2003 When I swung my feet out of bed this morning, I felt like I was wearing ski boots my ankles were so stiff and swollen. They look like they did when I was nine months pregnant. I guess I landed pretty hard when I fell off that swing… Spent a leisurely couple of hours packing and saying our goodbyes, finally setting off about 10:15am. We were about 20 minutes down the road before we realised we’d forgotten our return Chunnel ticket. There were a few minutes of alarm while we located the phone number for the Bovenistier house — and considered the possibility that Don and Shenda may have already set off for the day — but they answered and were able to give us the booking reference number and a phone number to call for Chunnel information. Fortunately the booking number was enough to get us on the train, without having to turn round again, and we were back on the road again with only 20 minutes lost. We were belting down the motorway, making good time, when I turned round to give Nova a Babybel cheese and detected an unmistakable pong. On closer inspection, I saw she’d had a massive nappy blowout, which was sepping up her legs and threatening to besmirch the carseat. “We have to pull over now!” I said to Adam. There was an exit half a mile up the road, and we swung into the parking lot of a little roadside café. It was a truly disgusting situation. Adam held her suspended with her ass over his arm while I wiped and wiped… The car smelt like a Glastonbury portaloo, so we left the sunroof vent open and went for lunch at the fritteur. It didn’t look all that promising at first glance, but the food was great: mushroom omelette, croque monsieur and frites (with mayonnaise) and beautiful salad on the side. The loo was outside, and had the most unusual toilet. When you flushed, the toilet seat started rotating like a record on a turntable, and a little box at the back of the seat lowered, and gave it a thorough polishing. Wondered why that technology never took off… Nova slept all the way to the Chunnel. I had just enough time to dash in for some beer and wine before we were underway. Once again the journey was sseven hours door to door. Nova has been such a great little traveller. Sitting quietly in the back reading her magazines and books, I could hear her telling stories to herself, and singing along to her CD. (Whenever a song finishes –“Twinkle Twinkle” or whatever — she says, “Good song!”,which is likely a direct imitation of me…) One time I heard her laughing, and turned around to discover her tickling herself, the little sweetie pie. Greg and Wendy were home to greet us. There was yet another birthday present for Nova: an inflatable globe, a purple umbrella, some sunglasses, and a box of sparklers. She particularly loved her umbrella, and was very interested in the sparklers. They cooked us a fantastic dinner on the barbeque — cajun pork wraps, served with Mexican beers . |
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| July 12, 2003 Took the train from Waremme into Brussels this morning, partly as a day trip and partly to meet up with Don’s sister-in-law Martha who is joining them for a couple of day’s break from her summer’s research in France. Reading my guidebook on the one hour journey, I discovered that:
Nova kept the disruptive behaviour to a minimum on the trip, and remained cheerful as we trooped from train station to the Grand Place, Tintin shop, and Mannequin Pis fountain, before eventually finding a restaurant with a table for nine. The adults ordered mussels and frites, with a plate of spaghetti for the four kids to share. Nova immediately transferred her pasta from her plate to the (mercifully orange) tablecloth, then after I scraped it back onto her plate, transferred it to the (mercifully clean) ashtray before announcing, “Drink it, pasta!” and tipping the lot into her mouth (and face and lap…) Down the table, Rosie was employing similar techniques, that I’m sure would never have occurred to a well behaved Belgian two-year-old… 😉 After lunch, we stopped at a park so the kids could have a run around. Nova soaked herself in a water feature, and spent the rest of the day in a fetching jean-jacket-and-panties combo. She wasn’t keen to leave the playground, and bellowed and cried all the way back to the train station. Nothing would appease her: “NO NICE TREAT!” “NO TUBBIES MAGAZINE!!” “WANT LADDER!!!” As always, we eventually distracted her with food. On the journey home we sat across from the most ginormous baby I’ve ever seen. It was only about six months old and toothless, but was at least Nova’s size. The mom was pretty hefty as well, and Nova kept referring to her loudly as the “baby’s daddy”. Later on, we found ourselves sitting across from one of those extremely well behaved Belgian children, a spit combed little boy who looked like something out of The Midwich Cuckoos, and who refused an offered biscuit with a disdainful shake of his head. Back at the house, Adam and I were horsing around on the ancient swing in the garden. Adam was egging me on to swing higher and higher. Right at the crest of my trajectory the left rope snapped, and I crashed to the ground, although managed to land on my feet. Both my hands had nasty rope burns, but the main thing injured was my pride. Fortunately we managed to fix the swing, and I was relieved to see it withstand some pretty rough treatment from Sam and Domenic without snapping again. Another nice dinner: spaghetti al limone, green salad, and a lovely box of chocolate truffles we’d picked up in Belgium along with pear and cheese for dessert. |
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| July 11, 2003 Nova groaned and whimpered throughout the night, but never woke up enough to need attending to, and it was too dark to see in any case. But when she woke me at 5:30am I crept over to have a look. The poor little mite had somehow wriggled beneath the fitted bottom sheet and had completely encased herself, like a little pastry. When I peeled the sheet off her hair was wet with perspiration. She slept much better after I’d unearthed her, and didn’t wake until 7am. With all the food I packed, I’d somehow neglected to bring ‘bix, so Nova had her first ever bowl of cornflakes. “Flakes deelish!,” she pronounced happily. After breakfast, Shenda and I left the dads and kids at home, and went to the farmers market in Waremme. It was the usual provincial European mix of fabulous local food, clothes, and household furnishings. There were a surprising number of underwear stalls, and it was a stretch to match the racy leopardskin thongs and royal purple satin plunge bras on display with the stolid Belgian housewives thronging round us. Ate a delicious fresh waffle while we strolled about planning our purchases, and ended up buying:
Ate lunch in the garden again — “olives, cakey” for Nova, quiche for the rest of us. In the afternoon we drove an hour south to a town call Durbuy on the edge of the Ardennes. It was beautifully situated in a river valley with towering hills around, and a medieval fortress looming above. Had a wander round the pushchair-unfriendly cobbled streets and stopped for an ice cream. (Nova just hasn’t grasped that eating ice cream is a time-limited event, and tends to clutch her cone and let it melt, and scream blue murder if mummy tries to “help”.) The big and small boys played a round of mini golf while Nova and Rosie squelched around in a particularly slimy looking puddle in the new shoes that Shenda and I had bought them in the market. Went for a walk along the river before heading home. Fed and washed the kids and got them down by 8:30 or so. (Nova and Rosie had a great bath together — Rosie called Nova a kangaroo, and they both found it so funny they were in gales of laughter the whole bath.) We made another great dinner tonight. We started with the mussels (cooked with white wine and the mussel mix) and served with hunks of baguette; followed by a salade composeé (Belgian endive leaves filled with blue cheese, pear, and toasted walnuts, and served with a vinaigrette dressing), and finishing with a fantastic apricot tart that Shenda threw together in about five minutes. Stayed up too late drinking wine again. |
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| July 10, 2003 5:30am cam around too soon, especiallly since we’d felt the need to stay up until 12:45am watching a made-for-TV movie called Swing Vote, starring Andy Garcia and a raft of other actors I recognised — “That’s Dr. Anspach from ER!” etc. Set in “near-future” America, the right to abortion was being challenged in the Supreme Court. Andy Garcia was a new judge who held the swing vote, and after listening to all the arguments on both sides, presented one of the most balanced, sentiment-free cases for carefully considered pro-choice that I’ve ever heard. Moved the rest of the luggage to the car (including a clammy wet mermaid doll, who’s had her last bath if I have any say in the matter) and bundled up a sleepy Nova, clutching an armful of meggies and teddies. Strapped in her car seat, she put in a last minute request for “pink beaker” juice and her little purple blanket from Greg and Wendy, both of which were met. On the road at 6:05, and were not only well clear of the congestion charging zone by 7:30am, but actually at the Chunnel. Unfortunately, it was a few minutes to late for the 8am crossing, but spent the waiting time productively, scraping mashed breakfast from Nova’s carseat, and giving her a chance to stretch her legs. Going through security, we were waved over for a special check. A man came out with what looked like a handled pot scrubber and passed it all over the engine, inside the car and trunk. “What are you looking for?” I asked. “Explosives, or any chemicals that could be used to make them,” he said. “I put this little patch of clother under a scanner and it picks up any traces of explosives.” I don’t know what it was about us that suggested weapons smugglers or terrorists. Maybe the decoy baby in the carseat? They had a laugh at all the beer in the boot. “Taking beer to France then?” (land of cheap alcohol). “Worse — we’re taking it to Belgium.” That really cracked him up… The Chunnel itself is always a bit of an anticlimax. It’s kind of neat to drive down a train platform and into the train itself, but after that you just sit in a little box for 40 minutes until they let you out again. The drive from Calais and across Belgium went pretty smoothly. Nova was very good — I kept up a steady stream of sandwiches and cakes and snacks that kept her quiet. Stopped twice — once to buy a map and a coffee, and once to get some euros from a bank machine when we inadvertently lost the ring road around Brussels. We got to Bovenistier about 7 hours after leaving home. I had been phoning for the last couple of hours to tell Shenda that we were ahead of schedule, but they hadn’t answered. We had an address for the house and decided to go along and try to find it (and maybe picnic in the yard while we waited for them to return…) We pulled up in outside what I thought was the right place, but there was a car in the drive. I thought I’d better check before we set up camp on the lawn. Looking through the side gate I saw a teenage girl sitting in the garden. “This can’t be the place,” I thought, and was debating whether to attempt asking for directions in French, when she turned around and I realised it was Shenda. I met Shenda and Don the year I lived in Toronto with my ex, John, who’d moved out there to start law school. They were all classmates, and Shenda and hit it off immediately. We liked the same books and bands and films, were both into cooking, and became good friends. We corresponded after I moved to Japan, but gradually lost touch about twelve years ago, during which time she’s had three kids, Sam – 8, Domenic – 5, and Rosie – 2, and aged about five minutes. About a year ago, Shenda found my email address on the Internet and dropped me a line. We’ve been writing ever since… It’s always a sign of a genuine friendship, that within a few minutes of arriving it felt like the most normal thing in the world to be eating lunch with them in a Belgian back yard. In the afternoon we went for a riverside walk. Nova was determined to run, and pounded happily along the mucky in the flowery white sandals she’d insisted on wearing, with only a couple of tumbles and nettle stings. (She’s on a mission to destroy those sandals before she outgrows them, which is fine by me. Children’s shoes are so stupidly expensive, it’s good to feel like you are getting your money’s worth…) Once the four kids were fed and in bed, we had a few drinks and an excellent dinner: polenta with two sauces (tomato-roast aubergine and mushroom-green peppercorn), and a green salad. To bed about midnight. I had trouble locating Nova in her cot as the room was pitch black, so just tossed a blanket over the vague lump down at one end before going to sleep. |
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| July 9, 2003 Today was Nova’s first full day at the nursery. I’d booked the day off, so Adam and I took her down together. She was quite clingy at first, and didn’t want to go into the room where all the other little ones were eating their breakfasts, so we went out into the garden. One of the staff joined us, and eventually distracted Nova enough so we could make our exit. We spied on her through the slats of the fence, and she seemed alright. Went for a run together in Highgate Wood before heading home. Headed into the West End and met my friend Lorraine for lunch at the Carluccio’s Cafe off Oxford St. Had the tagliatelle con funghi, and shared a green salad, vanilla ice cream with hot espresso and bottle of white wine. We were having such a good natter that we lost track of time, and ended up being ten minutes late for the appointments, which had to be rescheduled for later in the afternoon. Spent the time checking out the Selfridges sale: bought a Filippa Scott handbag, and a pink feather boa for Nova (that’s what drinking at lunch time will do…) Our appointments were rescheduled at 4:30pm, which was a bit tight to get home for Nova’s dinner. (Adam has joined a new football team and it was his first game this evening.) I phoned Adam and got him to drop Nova off at Jenny’s house, and rushed off before the final coat of polish was properly dry. It frustrates me that I never seem to do anything without a time limit attached these days. Nova was in a bit of a strop by the time I picked her up, and was hard work for the rest of the evening. It’s been a big day for her (which didn’t stop me from yelling at her in the bath… I always feel so bad afterwards, and it made her all the harder to put down…) Called Shenda and Don in Belgium, and asked if there was anything they wanted us to bring. Don put in a request for some English beers, so I went up to Oddbins and bought a dozen. It’s a bit like bringing coals to Newcastle… We packed our bags, loaded the car, watered the plants, emptied the bins — the usual routine. I packed such a big lunch for the car trip tomorrow that Nova could feasibly double her body weight on the journey. All done by 11pm… |
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| July 8, 2003 And the presents keep rolling in… Today in the post, Nova received a beautiful Junior Jasper Conran blouse and light denim trouser outfit from Jules and Mary, and a little mermaid doll from David and Lynette, with a thick mane of bright red hair and a little comb to style it with. Apparently you can take it in the bath as well, which I’m sure she’s going to love, although I can already foresee the argument I’m going to lose with her about taking a dripping wet mermaid dolly to bed with her. Today was Pascale’s last day of looking after Nova. Adam and I went to pick up Nova together this evening and brought Pasc a bunch of tulips. Tomorrow is her first full day at nursery, the little sweetie. I think she’s really going to enjoy it. Pasc says that when she picked her up from her settling in day yesterday, all the kids cried, “Bye bye, little girl!” when she left… |
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| July 6, 2003 Feeling pretty wiped out this morning… Adam made pancakes for the little girls, and coffees for the rest of us. Met up with Doron and Oliver in Highgate Woods, and spent a couple of hours pushing the kids on the swings, playing on the grass, and having lunch in the cafe. Pete and Liana headed off, and we came home for a family nap. (At least mommy and daddy had a nap in front of the Wimbledon men’s final — when I woke up an hour later Nova was still singing away in her cot.) Ate dinner outside (party leftovers mostly) and Nova discovered her new sandbox. |
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| July 5, 2003 Happy second birthday, Abigail! Oliver woke us up a couple of times in the night, but managed to settle back to sleep again. But 5:15 he set up a determined wail. There was no way we were going to get up at that early, and Adam went downstairs and spent a half hour rocking him back to sleep again. He woke us again at 7am, and by that time Nova was singing away as well, so we got them both up. When we got upstairs, the kitchen clock said 8am… It turned out the bedroom clock was wrong, and the little guy had woken up at his usual time. After Doron left with Oliver we into gear for Nova’s birthday party. I made a spinach dip, tray of sandwiches, and iced and decorated a platter of cupcakes. We fed Nova her lunch, and we just finished off and got her into her party dress from Fern when the guests started arriving. For the next couple of hours, it was a mad house round here, as 20 guests, ranging in age from 1 to 90, quaffed champagne or apple juice, ate, ground crisps into the carpet and squabbled over the helium balloons. Exhausting but fun… Pete, Liana and Martha stayed overnight, and after all the other guests had left we had a restorative vanilla vodka and lemonade, and ordered a big Indian takeaway from Kiplings takeaway. Late night of talking and drinking too much wine… |
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| July 4, 2003 Happy second birthday, Nova love! Adam and I woke up Nova this morning by singing Happy Birthday to her, which she loved. Today was her first day at nursery — a one hour settling in visit. I left her with her little group of two year olds and moved out of sight to see how she coped. Just like I would have done, hung around at food table, picking at the bowl of raisins and looking awkward. Eventually she moved off and found a toy to play with until it was time to come inside for painting. I could just see the nursery workers assessing her and thinking, “Oh good, a nice one.” Most of the kids seemed very sweet, and were playing quietly with toys and things, but there were a couple of little terrors that were crying, fighting, throwing toys and generally monopolising the staff’s attention. I guess that’s the story of the education system… it’s certainly how I remember my school years. After outdoor play, it was time for painting. Nova grabbed a paint brush and started scrubbing away at her piece of paper, not realising that she needed to dip it in the paint. She soon got the hang of it though… Pascale, Pete and Fay came round for a birthday lunch. Pascale baked Nova a little cake with two candles, and they had a bag of little presents for her. Unfortunately, Nova was so stroppy I had carry her kicking and screaming from the room and bung her in her cot for a few minutes to chill out. I felt a bit guilty doing it on her birthday, but she was losing the plot. I think she was overexcited and tired mainly. I managed to get her down for a nap after they left, which did her a power of good. We had the Garfunkel family round for a birthday dinner this evening. I served poached trout with a horseradish-creme fraiche sauce, rolls and a few salads: puy lentil, pesto pasta with pinenuts, new potatoes with a chive-lemon dressing, and spinach salad with blackberry vinaigrette. I’d baked a Victoria sponge and filled it with raspberries and whipped cream. Nova got some great presents: Freddy and Beulah gave her a new Dipsy doll, and a little doll house with a real doorbell, flushing toilet, and television with flashing lights. Doron and Antonia gave her a sandpit, which we set up in the garden. Adam and I got her a little oven from IKEA, and a set of pots and pans, which she immediately put to use cooking up the little toy family from her playhouse. Margo and Aaron sent a shark puppet and a maple leaf hackysack. (“Sock bite!” she said when I gave her a playful nip with it.) Mom and Dad sent a beautiful pink party dress (which was mine when I was her age), a cute little pair of denim shorts, and a hot pink teeshirt. They also left a message for her on the answering machine of Fern singing ‘Happy Birthday’ accompanied by Ed on the accordion. Nova was thrilled with her message, and demanded I play it again and again. Doron and Antonia left Oliver with us for his Friday night sleepover. |
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| July 3, 2003 Happy birthday, David! The doctor’s appointment that we’ve been waiting months for finally rolled around. It was booked so long ago that I actually forgot I’d arranged for Pasc to have Nova while we were at the hospital, and lined up Eytan and Dina to babysit as well. We dropped Nova off at 10am and walked over to the Whittington. They finally called us an hour later, although how they manage to get so far behind when you’re the second appointment of the day is a mystery. Instead of the great Dr. Morgan, our appointment had been assigned to Dr Vogt, who is one of the consultant’s in the team, and someone I saw throughout my pregnancy. And if that wasn’t enough of a let down, it turned out they’d misplaced my notes as well. Dr Vogt could see we were upset and went off to prevail upon Dr Morgan to grant us an audience, which she eventually did. Not that she had anything to tell us that we didn’t already know. I’ve now been scheduled for a series of scans during one of my cycles to check that everything is as it should be, eggs are ripening for long enough etc. It may turn up something I suppose, but I’m not holding my breath… We had Pete and Pascale round for dinner this evening. I made the dinner party standby of the moment — grilled salmon with Thai sweet-hot-sour sauce, rice and green beans. Made further inroads into the vanilla vodka, and had a nice relaxing evening. |
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| July 2, 2003 Nova has taken to calling her belly button her “Italy button”. I think she misheard me the first time I told her the word, but it’s so cute I don’t want to correct her. Other words she’s got her own version of:
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