Saturday, 4 June 2011

Cakes......

Well it was my friend's birthday the other day, so I got baking (again) and here was the result...(no flames, which was a positive)...

Gazes at her creation....

Well, I liked it anyway.....

Friday, 3 June 2011

‘It’s just another pwart of me’


Just before I begin-I must write a ‘note to self’ and it is thus: do not forget about quiche in oven. No doubt I shall get carried away blogging, and end up burning it. And the hungry boys need their quiche. Yep, I’m still at it, baking away, feeding the 7 people here who are eating like anteaters in an ants’ nest. Any way I shall continue bloggin till I see flames…

I am BAD...
‘It’s just another part of me. Ahow’ I sing enthusiastically to Michael Jackson playing in the background. ‘No, mum’ Monty corrects me, it’s ‘It’s just another pwart of me’. Pwart? Oh, I get it, he’s picked up on the American accent, and is convinced it’s pronounced ‘pwart’ now. This sounds too ridiculous from a boy who already has a hint of a French accent when he speaks English, and now pronouncing words with his Michael Jackson influenced American drawl…Too silly. Anyway, he came down tonight at 9 o’clock complaining of tummy ache-so I tell him cuddles are best for that, and he fell asleep on me!! First time in years. Alex caught me and my boy having a snooze…

1, 2, 3…Ahhhhhhh

Welll yeasterday I went to a friend’s for ‘Gouter’ the French Gouter/snack is around 4 pm every afternoon, and we have been invited to attend their festive four o’clock snack traditions a few times. My friend who gave me the chickens, and who we will be getting the ducks from next week , quack quack (TOO excited!), invited us. Her entire family are there, aunts, uncles, mother, great aunt, sister, they were all there, and us. The ‘we’re not inviting them for gouter again Frederique’ brigade, en mass. It went surprisingly well, I stood and made them all pancakes for 2 hours, and all the various kids played and fell over, fought, laughed cried and spat (not mine, mine are not spitters, thank the Lord up above, the seas down below and welly boots for their ‘practicalness’). Her mum was wonderful, but was obviously having ‘bogey ‘ issues. It went from having a little pick, a blow and a snort, to full on snorting and that revolting back of throat coughing to gagging noise as she swallowed and regurgitated god only knows what. Vile, quite frankly, and thoroughly uneccessary in public. I was gaily chatting away flipping pancakes and lightly sprinkling sugar please with my friend, but just was so stunned by the snorting old lady behind me, finally my friend looks round and tells her mum ‘er now come on…I know you’re old, but, nonetheless’…her mum scowls and mutters something like ‘silly b*tch’ under her breath…asides that, it was a thoroughly merry occasion, what fun was had by all! 


Oh, I said it went oh so well, but I was forgetting the initial conversation, or my one way conversation upon arrival. My friend’s mum says to me that the kids are good kids, I obviously keep them in line well (ha, we all know better, but I’m going with it..) then she hits me with, quite honestly hearing it was like being walloped in the face with a rubber glove full of omlette by a human sized badger (which are now extinct, sad), unexpected, and not nice, ‘do u whack ‘em? That sorts them out I bet’ she says ..Errr, hello??  We don’t live in the Bible, love. And I thus launched into a huge great long spiel about using physical authority on a small child, in my eyes is completely unnecessary, not to mention violent, damaging and reaps what it sows…also I have seen some ‘no, Eric, we do not hit’ *smack*, thus teaching Eric what?? But in France, smacking your children is still openly practised and not illegal. I chewed this poor old grandma’s ear off for a good 15 minutes, she was semi-closing her glazed eyes by half way, but I battle on, her head on her hand jolting from time to time as she dozes off with boredom. I imagine she pleaded with my friend after we left to never let us back. Yet another house where we have ruled out being invited ever again as long as they live and breathe on the same planet…she gave me 3 goose eggs as punishment!…check em out...

Ouch, nice work geese...

Oh f*** and b******* and s***, you know what I’ve just done don’t you…? Yep, burned the bloody quiche. Fook’s sake man. Right, off to burn insense to disguise the burning smell, and bake, again…NIGELLAAAAA!!!

See ya tomorrow,
Tamsyn x

Thursday, 2 June 2011

Dreadful mother...

Look how I sent my son to school- well, in my defence, it was a teeny hole that morning, he returned with one whole butt cheek hanging out...Oh the shame....

His sister pokes fun at him...literally...

'We can see your buuuuummmm, we can see your buuum....'

Wednesday, 1 June 2011

as happy as a happy donkey, eyeoring in a field of wheat blowing in the wind.


Well I have never, to date, washed my hands in toothpaste before, but in the frantic, chicken pooed up hand, looking everywhere with your wrists, trying not to touch anything with your hand search for the squeezy soap, I gave up. The kids or the chickens must have eaten it. So I find toothpaste and ‘squeeeeeze’. There, clean-ish, minty fresh hands. First time for everything as they say, although I do very much doubt I shall be blogging about it…Hang on, too late, B*ll***s.


Late last night there’s a squeaky-squeak noise in the lounge, ruling out hatching dinosaurs (my suggestion) Alex braves the dark. He actually semi-screamed like a girl, checked himself and made a few gruff man noises, walking in informing me that it was a mouse, brought in by the cats. I ‘m in bed and not having any of it-Alex can deal with this. But he, apparently, cannot. He literally pleads with me (promises of chocolate and lie-ins and everything) to follow him as ‘back up’. Back up? For a tiny mouse? I have no choice (he was a broken man) I must go and ‘back up’. And yes, you guessed it…who ended up on the search for it after it sprints off, yep, yours truly. I am prodding round under the cupboard in the lounge, waiting for a rodent to come flying out at my face and eyes and nostrils and ear holes-this is where they aim for, I’ve heard. Then Alex spots it (thanks, that’s helpful, love), and shouts-‘There it is’ to which I reply ‘Where?’ to which he replies ‘there, there on the stair…going clip clipperty clop on the stair’ this last bit, he in fact launches himself into song, yoddling with a little tap dance move worthy of the stage, like Maria in the Sound of Music (my fave film when I was a babba) at this point, he’s only missing the bob and the pinny. I stand and look at him, wondering whether to join in (bit of moral support for the ‘let out in the communtiy’) or whether I will wake up, and find my real husband. I think of the kids, and do not encourage him, give up on the moose loose aboot me hoose…and try and get some sleep, making sure the covers are hiding facial orrifices, just in case.

The next day, playing under Monty’s den with him for a wee while before he goes to bed, I notice mouse poo. Oh no, you know what this means don’t you? Yes, the orifice attacking trained rodent, is in my baby’s bedroom. OMG. I don’t mind mice so much, I just know they’re well dirty, well, don’t pretend you don’t know that, they never shower, and when have you ever seen them with a nail brush? Never, right? Filthy. And despite all the sh*t incidences, the livestock, I am a little neurotic about cleaning and cleanliness and clean things. It borders on an OCD, but I am still the right side of it- if you wash your hands/mop you floors more than 87 times a day I hear this is the cut off point, crossing into OCD land, so at a healthy 86 times, I’m still alright. Anyway, I have no idea how to get rid of it, not into poison or inhumane traps, may leave some cheese in a toilet roll at the end, hope it’s a fat mouse and he’ll get stuck, although if he goes round, he could obviously eat it without entering the tube. So this plan is flawed, and I have openly humiliated myself. Oh well, I’ll keep you posted…

Monty lost his 4th tooth, and was so proud, running around the House whooping and all gleeful, as happy as a happy donkey, eyeoring in a field of wheat blowing in the wind. No idea if they like wheat, but a pretty, windy mental image. Anyway, here he is…


Right, I’m off. To continue my chain-baking, he’s like the very hungry catterpilla the 15-year-old we have staying with us. Only, although it’s Wednesday, he did not just eat 3 juicy plums (although I have read this story a thousand times, I cannot remember what it is on a Tuesday, plums will do)…and to finish off the kids upstairs. Lola is trying to read in English, so I am helping her read a book every night with a torch in her top bunk. I did not feel the need to pelt up the stairs, braying myself on the top one as I fell back a step (so annoying) the second time I hear the ‘Ow o wow ow owwwwwwww’ and tears, as after doing this the first time, I realise the title of Lola’s book is ‘Ow, Pig hurts himself’ hence the gusto at reading a word she recognised, followed by fake tears.  From now on, I’m not skim reading titles before giving them the OK. So there we go, off to switch off torches and give kisses, then to cook, again. See ya tomorrow!

Tamsyn x

Tuesday, 31 May 2011

quick photo- butter monster...

Making cakes with Esmie...check out the teeth marks in the butter when my back was turned...!


And here's the culprit...


Butter wouldn't melt... ;)

Monday, 30 May 2011

Jesus cooked smaller meals for the 5000...


I am, to date, still awaiting the either clippperty clopping of my ‘sheep’ from the bus driver, or the silence of the (dead) lambs… I must admit I am rather thankful to have not yet received them, I am not too excited at the thought of having to cook sheep. If he brings me live ones however, now that's something else way too exciting. They’d be better at mowing the lawn than us-practical, Alex, you see? That’s why I am welcoming in my livestock, in their droves. From our chickens (despite their gargantuan proportions and their bullying the new girls Brigite and Blanchette) we get our eggs. From sheep, well, milk, and then you can make your own cheese, wow,  and they mow the lawn without whinging or putting it off for 2 weeks too long, cats catch things, although as we live in 2011 (it is 2011 isn’t it?) and not in the time of the bubonic plague, this is not a necessity for us, still, it’s what they do. And ducks! Yey! And a frog. All agreed they serve little or no purpose, but they change it up a bit…

So anyway, this weekend has been eventful. We have our friends’ son out here for a fortnight with us, so as he eats for 8 large families, seriously, Jesus cooked smaller meals for the 5000, I have been chain-baking. The kids are on super-hyper-over-driven-a-long-while-back-drive kids. They adore this boy, and are so overexcited. So they’re noisy and will be spending the day in a giant sound proof bubble-what the heck, I’ll throw the chickens in there too. It was Mother's day here in France on Sunday, so I even got a lie in till 9am on Sunday morning. Followed by dozens of gorgeous little hand made presents and cards from the kids, and Quality Street chocolates, which I have not had in years...lovely day.


Chickens are bloody fast. My God, I am exhausted, I feel as though I have just been and completed an extraordinarily complicated Anneka Rice challenge. Bloody hell, I’ve been scratting around under the caravan in our garden for what feels like hours, trying to push them out the other side with sticks, they're going nowhere, stubborn b*tch*s.  Monty just came down and sat on my knee as I typed that paragraph, he was laughing so hard at the image of his mum scratting round in the mud under a caravan for our girls. Who incidentally, up close, have proper ugly ass faces. As I was just doing the garden tidy-up, I have been wrestling them to get them into bed. I’ve given up, and now there is a thunder storm. Well, I tried, there’s only so much scratting round in mud one can do. The cats have been chasing me round to feed them, that is now done. The dog, well, he can eat after I have finished my blog, the world is awaiting it…! I have fed, bathed, pyjamad, teeth brushed, hair brushed, storied and put to bed 4 kids. I then hovered and mopped (phew, the world will not implode tomorrow, you should all be grateful), then cooked up the remaining chickpea burger mix from yesterday up for me, made a fresh batch for the will be ravenous, post-surfing hubby and friends’ son. The chickens are now going mental, Monty has finally given into tiredness, and I can hear him playing with his lego under his den-wait, hang on a cotton picking minute, he’s still up. Time to intervene...Right, now he’s not, there is, finally peace…No, no, now it’s the effing chickens again, I got the washing in, that’s safe from thunder and lightening, but the chickens are still out there on mass. The little 2 are still making that cute cheapy-cheap noise, before it turns into the most noisy insulting Boc-Boc-Boccing, that is so intense you find yourself wanting to rip their adorned with a red flap heads off. Ooooof. That was quite cathartic that, admitting it. Good God and Babara Streisand, I hope another one doesn’t drop down dead tomorrow. Another ‘will-kill’ on my hands.  


Well, I am going to make an effort tomorrow and not go round the ENTIRE day with my top on inside out. Thanks Alex for pointing that out to me at 7 pm, when the day was over. The whole day spent looking like I had finally lost it, gone bananas, flipped. So tomorrow is a new day, and I am going out there, head held high, deoderant in place, armed with 4 kids and a top on THE RIGHT WAY round, I shall rule it tomorrow! See ya!

Tamsyn x

Sunday, 29 May 2011

my mother's day....

How lucky am I!!! Proper spoiled, chocolates and everything!!
I got a lie in this morning till 9am...and now hubby's gone off for a surf....still, he cooked us all brunch too, so I figured he deserved a surf ticket...yeah right! we're all heading down to join him at the beach as soon as I can this bunch organised...aaaagggrrrrrrr...Help? Anyone? Nope, OK, fair enough. Have a great Sunday anyway, you selfish ********s....*walks off muttering, obscentities stream from otherwise both beautiful and innocent mouth...*