It began innocently enough. The Bear asked me to download an app for a game he was enjoying. All I had to do was go in once a day and send him a 'gem'. Easy.
So dutifully, whenever I remembered, I would do the necessary. After a couple of weeks I noticed changes: dragons had appeared where none had been. There were now little cash boxes floating around. I clicked on one. It made a lovely tinkly noise as of money clinking onto a hoard. I clicked on a dragon. It had a name. I name I could change if I wanted to. I found I did want to.
Bear admitted that he had also been playing on my game when I had been asleep and had set me up with said dragons and their 'habitats'.
Fast forward three weeks and I now had a whole host of dragons, all personally named by me (Asgard, Midgard, Utgard and my cold dragon Hel; d'you see what I did there?). They all needed feeding up, have habitats built and then..... Then I could breed them.
Those concerned with propriety can rest easy. Dragons breed by flying around a cave for a few hours and then produce an egg. The egg sits in a special hatchery until it is ready to hatch.
And here we are. The whoop of smug achievement when I realised I had bred a pearl dragon before Bear, could be heard at the end of the garden and I have been overheard saying "Hold on, just checking on my dragons". When did I become this person? And how do
I stop? Do I want to stop? Hmmm not until I've managed to breed a rainbow dragon at least. Now if you'll excuse me there are some tinkly cash boxes what need clicking on.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Friday, 1 June 2012
Foraging is a political issue
My sister and I have always wanted to find out more about foraging so when she emailed me about a walk on Hampstead Heath with a published foraging type, I jumped at the chance.
So Saturday morning we traipse up the hill in the unusually hot sun to The Gaia Foundation in the back streets of Hampstead village.
Feeling a tad shy we take a bench across the road and watch the rest if the group arrive. A strange mix of serious types with suitable footwear and leather knapsacks, hampstead mums with offspring, flowing skirts and an intimate knowledge of all the Eithiopian restaurants in a 5 mile radius, and youngish lasses in shorts and flip flops. And us. 2 middle aged slightly tubby women in jeans, trainers and plenty of sunscreen.
Our hosts were two far too attractive young ladies and the chief forager. He definitely looked the part: he had a hat and everything. We were introduced to the chief when he loudly declaimed the the Hampstead Heath Corporation were ridiculous monsters for preventing the group from gathering our foraged bounty. "What's next? Telling people to stop mowing their lawns!" Sis took my hand at this point and gave me the "don't respond" look - she knows me so well...
Off we went into the undergrowth. Well up the pavement anyway. We had only gone a few yards when chief stopped and plucked a small weed from the edge of the road. This was chickweed. A delicious salad ingredient apparently. We all took pictures obediently. The earnest chap next to us piped up "It's delicious sautéed in olive oil" and I knew we were definitely in NW3.
As we strolled through the Heath, chief forager pointed out an abundance of edible flora and the occasional poisonous option for those planning a murder... Unfortunately his spiel was peppered with rants on how we all should return to being hunter gatherers and that the African grasses were providing grains across that continent and we could all benefit from that lifestyle. This would be discussed further over lunch...
We'd had an hour and a half of ranting by now under the hot sun and a follow up rant with foraged salad did not sound like fun so sis n I made excuses and skipped happily down the hill to forage for a frappucino.
Sis has since claimed that she did indeed learn something: she learned that foraging is Not For Her.
For those of you interested here is a list of the edible yummies available in your local park or pavement:
Chickweed, lesser celandine, linden, ground elder, dock, cleaver, elderflower, nettle, cow parsley, mustard garlic, alexander, herb bennett, sheep's sorrel, common sorrel, moor sorrel, grass, dandelion and cats ear dandelion.
Note from the author: Some of these plants look suspiciously like others which are poisonous. If you're not sure, Don't Put It In Your Mouth (surely good advice for any situation!)
Now if you'll excuse me I've got cleavers infusing in a jug of cold water.
Addendum: cleavers taste like grass. And cleaver infused water tastes like watery grass. S'quite nice actually.
Addendum 2: Out on Urmston meadows spotted cow parsley, mustard garlic, nettles of course, sorrel & elder. Hey! I learned something!
So Saturday morning we traipse up the hill in the unusually hot sun to The Gaia Foundation in the back streets of Hampstead village.
Feeling a tad shy we take a bench across the road and watch the rest if the group arrive. A strange mix of serious types with suitable footwear and leather knapsacks, hampstead mums with offspring, flowing skirts and an intimate knowledge of all the Eithiopian restaurants in a 5 mile radius, and youngish lasses in shorts and flip flops. And us. 2 middle aged slightly tubby women in jeans, trainers and plenty of sunscreen.
Our hosts were two far too attractive young ladies and the chief forager. He definitely looked the part: he had a hat and everything. We were introduced to the chief when he loudly declaimed the the Hampstead Heath Corporation were ridiculous monsters for preventing the group from gathering our foraged bounty. "What's next? Telling people to stop mowing their lawns!" Sis took my hand at this point and gave me the "don't respond" look - she knows me so well...
Off we went into the undergrowth. Well up the pavement anyway. We had only gone a few yards when chief stopped and plucked a small weed from the edge of the road. This was chickweed. A delicious salad ingredient apparently. We all took pictures obediently. The earnest chap next to us piped up "It's delicious sautéed in olive oil" and I knew we were definitely in NW3.
As we strolled through the Heath, chief forager pointed out an abundance of edible flora and the occasional poisonous option for those planning a murder... Unfortunately his spiel was peppered with rants on how we all should return to being hunter gatherers and that the African grasses were providing grains across that continent and we could all benefit from that lifestyle. This would be discussed further over lunch...
We'd had an hour and a half of ranting by now under the hot sun and a follow up rant with foraged salad did not sound like fun so sis n I made excuses and skipped happily down the hill to forage for a frappucino.
Sis has since claimed that she did indeed learn something: she learned that foraging is Not For Her.
For those of you interested here is a list of the edible yummies available in your local park or pavement:
Chickweed, lesser celandine, linden, ground elder, dock, cleaver, elderflower, nettle, cow parsley, mustard garlic, alexander, herb bennett, sheep's sorrel, common sorrel, moor sorrel, grass, dandelion and cats ear dandelion.
Note from the author: Some of these plants look suspiciously like others which are poisonous. If you're not sure, Don't Put It In Your Mouth (surely good advice for any situation!)
Now if you'll excuse me I've got cleavers infusing in a jug of cold water.
Addendum: cleavers taste like grass. And cleaver infused water tastes like watery grass. S'quite nice actually.
Addendum 2: Out on Urmston meadows spotted cow parsley, mustard garlic, nettles of course, sorrel & elder. Hey! I learned something!
Saturday, 14 April 2012
The kindness of strangers
Ah friends. Those wonderful people with whom you have history, with whom you share crisps at the pub and in some specialised cases, with whom you sneak off to see Twilight -Breaking Dawn. Friends are fabulous creatures and I have to say mine are particularly awesome.
But there has, of late, been a different group of friends in my life. I have no idea what some of them look like, or where they live. I don't even know their true names in some cases. But nevertheless they have been there for me in ways I could never have expected nor even hoped.
Online friendship is a strange beastie. Often broached through fora and then strengthened by social media sites, we find ourselves part of a worldwide support group with people who are prepared to just listen to our woes, rejoice in our small victories, coo over our photos and they never even get so much as a pint from us.
I adore my friends. Some of them are bonkers and so am I so that's all right. But I would like to send a special shout out (why yes, I did say 'shout out': I am quite down with the kids doncherknow) to my chums beyond the ether(net). You know who you are and you know what you did and what you have said. Come the zombie apocalypse, I'm running with you! SMOTE!
But there has, of late, been a different group of friends in my life. I have no idea what some of them look like, or where they live. I don't even know their true names in some cases. But nevertheless they have been there for me in ways I could never have expected nor even hoped.
Online friendship is a strange beastie. Often broached through fora and then strengthened by social media sites, we find ourselves part of a worldwide support group with people who are prepared to just listen to our woes, rejoice in our small victories, coo over our photos and they never even get so much as a pint from us.
I adore my friends. Some of them are bonkers and so am I so that's all right. But I would like to send a special shout out (why yes, I did say 'shout out': I am quite down with the kids doncherknow) to my chums beyond the ether(net). You know who you are and you know what you did and what you have said. Come the zombie apocalypse, I'm running with you! SMOTE!
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Minty fresh inside and out
Mint is everywhere. We like to suck it to freshen our mouths, we chew it to
appear cool; we drink it to help with upset tummies, mix it with chamomile
to make a sleepy time drink palatable. We use it on our bodies with
Original Source shower gel and in our mouths as toothpaste, powder and
mouthwash. We love mint, be it peppermint, spearmint, ginger mint, water
mint to name but a very few.
I take my daily mint quota in the form of a capsule of peppermint oil for
my IBS symptoms. So far it does seem to be doing a pretty good job,
although I do have some odd side effects. The most noticeable is that my
poo not only has a rather minty scent, it also has that archetypal fresh
feeling in my bot. Sometimes this can be positively menthol. I've tried to
delicately enquire of fellow IBS sufferers if they too are minty fresh
inside and out, but they tend to look at me blankly.
The upshot is that I'm a bit off mint at the mo - I'm even thinking of
branching out into non minty toothy paste. As long as I can find one that
tastes good and is for sensitive teeth and cleans well and does not cost
the earth. Luckily the Bear has finished his minty shower gel and is back
on the patchouli loveliness that is Tramp.
And that is why I shall say no thank you to the polo. Oh and Extra Strong
Mints make me sneeze.
appear cool; we drink it to help with upset tummies, mix it with chamomile
to make a sleepy time drink palatable. We use it on our bodies with
Original Source shower gel and in our mouths as toothpaste, powder and
mouthwash. We love mint, be it peppermint, spearmint, ginger mint, water
mint to name but a very few.
I take my daily mint quota in the form of a capsule of peppermint oil for
my IBS symptoms. So far it does seem to be doing a pretty good job,
although I do have some odd side effects. The most noticeable is that my
poo not only has a rather minty scent, it also has that archetypal fresh
feeling in my bot. Sometimes this can be positively menthol. I've tried to
delicately enquire of fellow IBS sufferers if they too are minty fresh
inside and out, but they tend to look at me blankly.
The upshot is that I'm a bit off mint at the mo - I'm even thinking of
branching out into non minty toothy paste. As long as I can find one that
tastes good and is for sensitive teeth and cleans well and does not cost
the earth. Luckily the Bear has finished his minty shower gel and is back
on the patchouli loveliness that is Tramp.
And that is why I shall say no thank you to the polo. Oh and Extra Strong
Mints make me sneeze.
Saturday, 4 February 2012
You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy
Oh Pontins, what hast thou done. This weekend was supposed to be a bit of a holiday for the Bear and me. A little break with fellow sci-fi geeks at the SFX Weekender. Alas t'was not to be.
The arrival was good - once we figured out that "near Rhyl" meant "nowhere near Rhyl" and we duly queued for our check in. Now we were early so did not have to suffer the bitter cold of the evening queuers - poor souls. Someone should have gone up and down that line with hot tea. Bit shocked to have to fork over £100 "deposit", especially given what we discovered on entering our "new refurbished chalet"....
Refurbished apparently means new lino and "we painted over the worst bits". There was damp down one wall with what looked like distemper. There was a great big hole in the bathroom under the sink, with what looked like some rather important connectors sat on the floor. There was a window stuck open in the kitchen area, which explains why it was always so blood cold. There was 1 plug socket in the kitchen. For the kettle, toaster and microwave. Which was on the other side of the cooker. Where there was a scary switch. Seems you could either cook, or have hot water. But not both.There was no table, no chairs, hell no glasses and no cereal bowls. Which was odd as they definitely sold cereal in the 'shop'. Perhaps you were meant to eat them out of the packet...
On returning to reception with our list of complaints, we found that the entire sci-fi community had turned up and were shivering right down the length of the building. So we went for dinner.
How can an event which has SOLD OUT not have a full catering facility? Half the canteen was in use and you could have either chicken, scampi or pork. Vegetarian? Well it's chips, broccoli and carrots for you, you lucky thing. On any kind of diet? Begone foul beastie back to the Nisa market of doom!
Special mention at this point to Waddy and Rob Lupine, raconteurs especiale who entertained us throughout dinner and the evening with tales of Wadfest, Clarecraft and how a bruiser of a chap managed to get chatted up whilst in a primrose frock. Utterly charming, if you get the chance, find them on twitter...
Alas our joy was too soon ended as we returned to the ice bucket of 'home'. We figured our how the fridge worked (You need to pull it right out and plug it in) and put on all our clothes to go to sleep.
I believe it was the next morning when Bear started to lose his rag. He awoke and attempted to have breakfast. No cereal bowls and only teeny tiny cups for a brew. OK. We hot footed it to reception. Queued again and then handed over our list of complaints. Not even a "sorry". Just "they are building your table and chairs now" and "teething troubles". Not a happy bear now. We had a VERY disappointing breakfast ("Whaddya mean there's no beans???") and a wander around the dealers room before settling down to watch A Princess Bride. (Inconceivable! No really we did)
And then the news started on twitter. Guests not coming, events cancelled, then the preview was cancelled and I think at that point I'd lost Bear completely. We approached the canteen for lunch. Again people it was SOLD OUT. One person on a till does not suffice!
Shortly after this having returned to our chalet to find that no-one had even been to check on our problems and we packed our bags. There was nothing we wanted to see or do badly enough to put up with either the accommodation or the food. We pulled ourselves up to our full middle class heights, demanded sushi, sparkling water and a world where you could have both an oven AND hot water and left.
Friday, 27 January 2012
Sibling rivalry
I know people hate it when dog owners anthropomorphise their pets, but I don't care. My girls are my babies and this is my blog so nyah!
This morning started out like most Fridays: after extended family snuggles, I take the munchkins out for their run. Usually this involves throwing the ball for the enthusiastic Juno, whilst Dana potters about looking moody.
Today was different. Suddenly Dana had intercepted the ball and was making a determined sprint for the shed. Ju was hot on her heels and the two raced joyously up and down the garden a few times. Then Dana stopped. She didn't really want the ball anyway. She dropped it but stood very close. Because even though Dana definitely did not want the ball, she didn't want her sister to have it. Whenever Ju made a attempt on the ball, Dana would grab it and run off a little way. Cue much barking and howling on both sides. And if I could speak doggy I'm pretty sure the words "mu-um it's not fair!" would be included.
Eventually, mummy intervened and order was restored.
Later on they tag teamed me. The munchkins have a penchant for my knickers (I know!) Dana made a grab for a lone pair sat ready for the wash. On my command she dropped them only for Juno to snatch up the knicks and make a break for it. I lunged for Ju and grabbed her behind. Quick as a flash, Dana raced past and took the baton right out of Juno's mouth and off down the stairs.
Unfortunately the pants didn't make it. But the munchkins are both snoring on my lap. I don't even know if I can reach my tea....
This morning started out like most Fridays: after extended family snuggles, I take the munchkins out for their run. Usually this involves throwing the ball for the enthusiastic Juno, whilst Dana potters about looking moody.
Today was different. Suddenly Dana had intercepted the ball and was making a determined sprint for the shed. Ju was hot on her heels and the two raced joyously up and down the garden a few times. Then Dana stopped. She didn't really want the ball anyway. She dropped it but stood very close. Because even though Dana definitely did not want the ball, she didn't want her sister to have it. Whenever Ju made a attempt on the ball, Dana would grab it and run off a little way. Cue much barking and howling on both sides. And if I could speak doggy I'm pretty sure the words "mu-um it's not fair!" would be included.
Eventually, mummy intervened and order was restored.
Later on they tag teamed me. The munchkins have a penchant for my knickers (I know!) Dana made a grab for a lone pair sat ready for the wash. On my command she dropped them only for Juno to snatch up the knicks and make a break for it. I lunged for Ju and grabbed her behind. Quick as a flash, Dana raced past and took the baton right out of Juno's mouth and off down the stairs.
Unfortunately the pants didn't make it. But the munchkins are both snoring on my lap. I don't even know if I can reach my tea....
Sunday, 11 December 2011
What the hell are you waiting for?
It seems I've spent my whole life waiting - Waiting until I'd done my exams, waiting until we could afford it, waiting until next year, until after Christmas, soon.....
We could wait forever for the right time to appear. Or we can say NOW is the right time and make the change we have been waiting for. And if it doesn't work out then at least we tried and we'll KNOW rather than always wondering and waiting.
And so my 2012 resolution is to make that start and make a change to my life in line with what I want NOW, not wait until tomorrow (and tomorrow and tomorrow).
We could wait forever for the right time to appear. Or we can say NOW is the right time and make the change we have been waiting for. And if it doesn't work out then at least we tried and we'll KNOW rather than always wondering and waiting.
And so my 2012 resolution is to make that start and make a change to my life in line with what I want NOW, not wait until tomorrow (and tomorrow and tomorrow).
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