Day Twenty-Seven: Sunday Roast Newtons

Today is a difficult blog because it's the third in a row of foodie blog posts, and the very concept of blogging about each and every one of these little daily "challenges" is hard enough without there being a string of similar exploits for three days in a row. So we'll see how we go; sorry if it's boring. 

Another Tom choice - have a roast. Last year we got into the habit of having this most quintessential British dish every Sunday. Not only does a roast taste good, but it's also a lovely way of spending your Sunday afternoon/evening - because that's how much time you need to set aside to do a roast properly. We have none of this 'oh it's chicken so we can't have Yorkshire puddings' nonsense; no indeed. So Tom would start the making of the batter in the early afternoon so as to leave it ample resting time in the fridge before use. Also then there's all the preparation of the meat - rubbing it with various flavourings and herbs and spices, resting it at room temperature etc etc. The potatoes - oh the roast potatoes. One of life's true pleasures (but only if done correctly. If done incorrectly, then one of life's true disappointments. I do them correctly). The peeling, the par-boiling, the heating of the oil to extreme temperatures, and then finally the roasting, with several turnings and seasonings throughout. So yeh, a roast takes some time (and I haven't even mentioned all the other trimmings - veg, stuffing, gravy, sauces of various kinds). But we enjoyed spending our Sunday afternoons preparing this feast, our early evenings devouring it, and our late evenings trying to digest it whilst ignoring the huge pile of washing up left festering in the kitchen. (A roast dinner provides an excellent argument in Tom's pro-dishwasher campaign.)

In addition, however, we found that a roast dinner was also a very thrifty and budget-friendly option. We could buy a chicken for, say, £5, or a piece of beef brisket for around £8, and it would do us for a Sunday roast, and then provide us with enough leftovers for two or three additional meals. I am more than happy for you to adopt this revolutionary new budget busting technique yourselves, as long as you always graciously credit me with its conception. 

Over the summer, obviously, you don't crave a roast dinner quite as much, and so it wasn't until yesterday that we planned our first one of the new autumn season. This was also our first post-Reuben-moving-in roast dinner. The experience was very different. 

Let me tell you, chopping up a leek and washing it, sautéing it in a little butter and then finishing it off in a white sauce is usually an easy and straightforward task. Doing this with a grumpy one year old hanging off your leg is another matter. Although being time-consuming, carving a chicken is not a difficult task, until there is a one year old moaning on the floor at your feet and trying to pull raw potatoes off the veg rack and nibble at them due to his extreme hunger. 

Plating up was the hardest bit. We're in a rush to get it done and on the table so that Reuben can be placated with food and a bit of attention at long last, and so there's pots and pans flying everywhere, the boiling hot oven door is wide open, the gravy's splashing on the floor and the leeks are threatening to burn in their saucepan. Not exactly conducive to familial bliss. Ah well. 

Finally we sat down and enjoyed a beautiful, yummy roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings (apart from Yorkshire puddings, despite what I mentioned above; I was as disappointed as I'm sure you are). Here it is: 

Three minutes later and it was gone, because, a fact of which we are now well aware, we can't sit and enjoy a delicious meal anymore. Instead we scoff our food down as though eating were an Olympic sport and we have a gold medal in sight. The ensuing indigestion is worth it though, compared to the dulcet tones of a Reuben who's been kept in his high chair for too long. 

So there we have it - the new Newton family roast experience: completely different but still yummy and I'm sure will remain a weekly fixture over the winter months. Who knew I could write so much about the humble roast. 

Day Twenty-Six: Just call me Lady Newton

Sometimes something happens in your life and you just have a moment of realisation - this is who I am, and this is what I was made for. This happened to me today, during today's challenge. After my evening at the spa last night, today we went out for Afternoon Tea, at a very prestigious venue, and I realised through both activities that my eyes had been opened to a new way of life from which I would never be able to turn away. 

The Afternoon Tea experience at Betty's in York is, I'm sure, very pleasant, but I wouldn't know because we weren't in the normal Betty's room at York. We were UPSTAIRS. That's right, upstairs. We walked right past the riff-raff lining up in their queue (ha ha - as if you queue to get in places), right past the downstairs cafe room with the triangle sandwiches (ha ha - as if you eat triangle sandwiches), and swanned up the stairs into the vast and exquisite dining room of the exclusive upstairs room, where a pianist welcomed us with her light, melodic twinkling of the ivories, and the bowtied staff greeted us with the respect we expected from our inferiors. 

The food itself was delectable - light, creamy chocolate mousse encased in red icing-dust, the subtle flavours of coronation chicken given a new, fresh twist for a delicious sandwich - and all served with the right degree of pomp and ceremony. We could choose from three pages of tea blends, which were all served in beautifully dainty and ornate tea cups accompanied with silver milk jugs. 

I would not, however, recommend this experience to you, oh humble reader. I'm not sure that you would appreciate the fine dining experience, or that you would feel comfortable in such lovely surroundings. By all means try out the downstairs Betty's Afternoon Tea, but I think that's probably where your sights should settle. Leave the upstairs to me, and my new, higher class contemporaries. 

Day Twenty-Five: I don't have a problem with fish, or eggs, but....

For our challenge today we had very little time as I was off out with my lovely friend for a spa night (I know, posh!!), and so we needed something speedy and easy. We therefore decided to do something we'd been putting off for two weeks - we decided to try a new food we've never eaten before. 

I don't have a problem with the concept of eating anything edible, as I've written about in another post, but there are some things that take my fancy more than others. For example, I would try eating something like sheep intestines, but more just for the experience and the story than for any pleasure I expect to get from tasting such things. However, the idea of trying a new tropical fruit or an interesting meat like crocodile or something is infinitely more appealing. And so why, faced with the entire of Tesco from which to make a selection, did I pick up a £3.48 jar of Black Lumpfish Caviar?!

I don't have a problem with getting cheaper, budget versions of more expensive foods; in fact, I search them out most of the time - a shopping technique I call 'not-being-a-sucker-and-buying-expensive-brands-just-for-the-name-when-they-taste-exactly-the-same-and-are-probably-in-fact-the-same-product.' Catchy. And a very popular technique, I assume. But another assumption is that there are many people, myself included, who, despite abiding by the aforementioned technique, have certain exceptions to the rule. Personal examples include toilet roll, baked beans and pate (for, I would hope, obvious reasons.) I should have perused this mental list in my mind before buying the caviar, because caviar is most certainly on said list. Who buys budget caviar? (Yes okay okay) Why oh why does it even exist? It's a luxury item, commanding a ridiculously high price tag (I've just found an online fine food retailer selling 30g of beluga caviar for £122.50), and as such should not even have a budget version. 

I don't have a problem with the concept of eating fish eggs, as I alluded to above. I am a fish friend, not a fish fiend. In fact I used to have a Saturday job working on a fish counter (maybe this means I'm a fish fiend then, actually - would a fish friend spend their Saturdays slicing open and gutting poor, dead salmon and mackerels?) And so my logic was, I like fish, I like eggs, I'll probably like fish eggs. My logic, it turns out, was wrong. I may like fish, and I may like eggs, but I do not like fish eggs. Well, to be more accurate, I do not like £3.48 Black Lumpfish fish eggs. I mean, Lumpfish?! Lumpfish?? It even sounds revolting. 

I don't have a problem with small food items which pop in my mouth, which may sound like an irrelevant comment but my good friend Jamie does suffer with such an affliction - peas are a no-go, for example. So the idea of tiny, popping eggs was not too repulsive, but I just found that they were too small, too poppy, too black and too fishy. Both of us tried the most minuscule sample of the caviar, just on its own, and were quite repelled by the fishiness and the poppy nature of the eggs. 

I like to think that were I to ever try proper, expensive, baluga caviar, such as I've mentioned above, I would like it. I'm sure it's bigger, tastier, and less like the flavour of the cheap fish paste my mum used to use to make sandwiches for our packed lunches. I mean, it must command such a high price tag for a reason, surely? Or is it just the case that anyone with that much money to spend on fish eggs has lost their better sense of judgement and therefore buys caviar, despite it being disgusting, because that's what rich people do. Maybe one day I'll have tons of money, and not much sense left, and I'll spend silly amounts on posh caviar, and then I can find out. I'll let you know!

Day Twenty Four: Write a short story

For this challenge we used my book 'I Like to Write,' which is basically a child's book but I love it. It's got lots of different little writing projects in it, such as a peculiar picture with the task of writing a related story, or a set of speech bubbles to write an interesting conversation. We had to write a story that included the following things: walk, computer, cat, armoire, and temple. We were limited to nine lines. Here it is:

Silas stared suspiciously across the street. His whiskers twitched as an incredible scene unfolded before his eyes. Into the imposing facade of Lord Westonfield's Emporium disappeared a diminutive figure dressed in a cloak so long it trailed on the floor. Through the vast windows, Silas saw a flash of light, reflected in an antique armoire, which appeared to be emanating from a small Tibetan temple carried protectively under the arm of the be-cloaked man. The stunned shopkeeper barely had time to look up from his computer before everything around him turned to diamond-dust. The man in the cloak walked away, leaving a stunned silence behind him, but little did he know that Silas had witnessed the whole thing. 

As a teacher, I would level this writing as a high Level 4, which is about average for Year 6. Well done us. Good use of ambitious vocabulary, correct use of commas and dashes, interesting sentence openers and good connectives. Next steps: write a little more and don't be so weird. 

Day Twenty Three: Learn a memory verse

Back to Sunday School today! The Bible is full of encouraging, amazing, baffling, awe-inspiring joy-inducing truths, and so the idea of trying to learn some of it off by heart so that you can think about something nice whenever you so please is quite a good one. 

Here's what we learnt:

Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you. He will never let the righteous be shaken. 

Psalm 55:22

I will try to remember that when I have cares or worries, when I need sustaining or helping out, when I feel like I'm being shaken or troubled - several times every day then!

Day Twenty Two: Eat a chunk of meat

You can guess who planned this activity, and why they chose to do it on this day - September 22nd - which happens to be his birthday. So last night we ate steak with a lovely smoked garlic and parsley sauce, with rosemary potatoes and green beans. 

I feel, though, that we may have missed a trick with this one. The challenge - eat a chunk of meat - is a very wide and vague title, and therefore opens itself up to a plethora of foodie options - we could have chosen tasty gammon steaks, or big juicy pork chops, or a rack of lamb, or something seasonal like pheasant or venison. I am feeling, this morning, that sense of regret you get when you've missed out. Don't get me wrong, the steak was nice, but to think I could now be blogging about my first foray into cooking rabbit or the experience of roasting a big, fatty duck leg makes me feel a little deflated. 

But never mind. We had steak, and it was okay - not the best, but okay. 

Now, cooking steak scares me. I never seem to get it perfect; usually it's over done. Still tastes yummy, but with every mouthful you can also taste a hint of bitter disappointment, that it could be so much more, so much juicer and tender. Despite this, Tom always says that I am the steak cooking guru (which isn't true); I think it's because he loves me. Which is nice. 

There isn't really much more to say about this escapade, apart from that it is 9am in the morning and I'm now craving steak.......

Day Twenty One: Spend an evening reading

Here are some silly things I would like to say about books:

Books are my friends. They make me laugh, cry, think, wonder, question, learn. Sometimes, they make me do all of these things and more; books like Small Island, and I Capture the Castle.

Books help me make friends. When you read a book, you share an experience with hundreds of other people who have read the same book. But the beauty of a book is that, while sharing the experience, you still have your own, completely personal experience of the book at the same time. Like looking through your own lens, you see things that no-one has seen, or find something laugh-out-loud funny which no-one else even notices. And then you can talk about it, or disagree about it, or laugh about it, or argue about it, or discuss it, with other readers.

Books smell great. There is nothing like the smell of a new book, or the smell of an old book. We have two huge bookshelves in our Dining Room, and they perfume the whole room with that papery, musty smell that, to me, means comfort, relaxation, happiness. I wonder if anyone has ever tried to bottle it.

Books are the cornerstone of a civilised society. I don't think there's much that can't be learnt from extensive reading (Mr Darcy would agree). There's a lot of terrible books out there, but I believe if a new civilisation set itself up somewhere, it could be well shaped and well informed by having a stack of decent books to consult, learn from, imitate, aspire to (books such as Emma, Far from the Madding Crowd, The Bible, The Kite Runner, and Anne of Green Gables).

To spend an evening reading is bliss. I need to make time for this more often.

Day Eighteen - Twenty: Various

A bit of a cop-out, but I've got behind with my blogs and want to catch up, so I'm grouping a few days together. The reason is that it was a certain person's birthday last week (me) and another certain person's birthday yesterday (Tom's) and it was those certain persons 30th birthdays, no less. And so we had a very busy weekend with lots of friends coming and going and staying and leaving, as well as a bit of a shindig on Saturday night with family and friends. Hence why I'm behind with the blog, and hence why I'm bunching together. Do forgive me.

Eighteen - The Newton Social Club
On Friday, the eighteenth day in our challenge, we chose to have people round and do some old-fashioned socialising (it certainly feels old-fashioned these days - it seems ages since we had a house full on a Friday evening playing games and drinking wine and having fun). We had a few people over to watch the Rugby, and fun was had by all. My dear friend Jamie, from the Isle of Man, also arrived for the weekend, so all in all a lovely evening. Note to self - socialise more.

Nineteen - P.A.R.T.Y
As I mentioned above (I hope you were concentrating), we threw a little party on Saturday night to celebrate our 30th birthdays. It was fun.

Twenty - Learn a new card game
Jamie taught me a really good new card game, which is ideal for two people. As I said in a previous post, we struggle to find games that are good for just the two of us, so this one was perfect. It was easy to learn - maybe that's just because Jamie's a good teacher and I'm a good learner - and got me gripped very quickly. I think it's called the Sunday Night Game (not sure why, but I can't tell you how happy I am that we were indeed playing it on a Sunday night), but I am told that it is a bit like rummy.

So there we go, that's the weekend caught up with. Back to normal blogs tomorrow!

Day Seventeen: If I win the lottery....

I never play the Lottery, so the likelihood of me ever winning the jackpot is, well, just about as likely as anyone who actually does play the lottery. Let's just say, it's not going to happen. But. If it did..... It's nice sometimes, isn't it, to spend some time daydreaming about what your life would be like if you were ever to win some big money. We used to talk about it at work all the time (particularly if we were having a bad day) - "If I win £15million, I'll share it out and none of us need ever come to work again." That sort of thing.

So the other day for our Fifty Things, Tom and I indulged in a little daydreaming, of the property type (I recently discovered that there is now a term called 'property porn' - I wonder if this is it?) We each had five minutes, and in those five minutes we had to find, on rightmove.com, the best house we could. We were to consider facilities and features (both indoor and out), location, and style. Obviously, money was no object.

I started by thinking of somewhere which is probably quite pricey, but that is also near the coast (that's why I ruled out London straight away); I went for Kent. This yielded no properties sufficient for my excessive tastes, so if you're looking for a £5million+ property to move into, I can save you some time and tell you to give Kent a miss. I moved onto Brighton - hip & happening, lots of wealth, and, of course, a beach. But I found that the majority of the houses were far too modern for my traditional tastes, and so again I rejected that and searched elsewhere. My time was running out.

Next I chose the Cotswolds - beautiful scenery, close to lots of lovely places like Bath and Cheltenham, and near enough to the south coast. Also, I knew there were plenty of wealthy, quaint little villages sure to be hiding (or flaunting) millionaires' mansions galore. And I wasn't disappointed. Here's what I chose:



Isn't she beautiful? You can see the whole listing here, but to whet your appetite, and to show you why I chose this place, here are some more photos:

          


"Dowdeswell House has been transformed by the current owners with cutting edge interiors, wonderful views, an infinity swimming pool, Tennis court and Sauna....dates back to the early 17th Century...Grade II Listed and includes a range of useful outbuildings...Georgian façade faces south west and is covered in wisteria..."

A snip, at only £5,500,000!

Tom chose this place, coming in at a whopping £8,000,000:



          

In case you couldn't tell, that last photo is a cricket ground, which explains why Tom went for this particular house (up until that photo I had been impressed and surprised by his charming, rustic, attractive choice).

I think you'll agree that both properties are quite nice, and really I would be happy enough living in either of them. Or the shed in the grounds of either of them.

Day Fourteen: Vegan for a day

I am a lover of food and drink, and I enjoy all of nature's bountiful produce with appreciation for the yummy morsels found therein and the clever cooks throughout history who have discovered winning combinations and magical ways of preparing meals (who first fried an egg??!) I am well aware of life-choices such as vegetarianism and veganism and fruitarianism (is that a real one, or just something made up from Notting Hill?) but I have never felt the need to embrace such a diet, and have no qualms eating anything, as long as it is actually edible. I feel sorry for those who do live by such rules, I feel sorry for their taste buds because of what they miss out on, and I feel sorry for their tummies because of what they miss out on a Sunday afternoon, trying and failing to digest a huge Sunday roast with all the trimmings.

But I was also quite keen to give yesterday's challenge a go. Keen, that is, until it dawned on me just how hard being a vegan is (and by 'hard' I mean annoying, bothersome and expensive.) My understanding is that a vegan eats anything that doesn't derive from an animal, so in a nutshell (you could eat that), no fish, no meat, no dairy. Easy enough....or so I thought. 

We spent a fair amount of time planning and preparing for this gastronomical mission, to ensure that we had enough suitable foods in the house. One of our conversations went something like this:

Tom: So I can't have cereal for breakfast, because I can't have milk. What am I going to have?

Me: Toast?

Tom: No because I can't have butter. 

Me: You could have toast without butter? 

Tom: Are you an idiot?

Fair point. So Tom ended up breakfasting on what can safely be described as the only possible alternative to toast or cereal - hash browns, baked beans and fried bread. I had the left over baked beans on toast. So far, so yummy - being a vegan is easy, and tastier than normal! 

You can imagine how our conversation about lunch went, bearing in mind the suggestions made earlier concerning toast without butter. So we dined on pasta with tomato sauce and mixed Mediterranean vegetables. Again, so far so yummy. And then for tea I made a Sicilian aubergine stew which you can see here:

It tasted much better than it looked and I think we will eat it again as part of our normal non-vegan food exploits. 

For the main meals, then, my conclusion is that veganism isn't that bad. (However, that is because we only did it for one day. Any longer than that and I would be craving bacon, drooling every time I saw roast beef, dreaming about a ham sandwich, and, well, I would just eat some meat.) No, like I said, the main meals weren't the problem. The problems began with tea. 

I bought a whole carton of soya milk, just so that I could have a cup of tea. That is silly. It makes tea taste different, and it's expensive. Also, how often in the day does an average person fancy a bit of cheese, and just head to the fridge and nibble a little bit off the edge of the block? Yes, probably about 5 or 6 times, and so that's 5 or 6 times you have to quash your desires and eat something boring instead like an apple or a breadstick. Maybe for you it's not cheese, it's chocolate. Well the same applies. Yesterday I had a bit of a mare of a day, and felt stressed and irritated and on the verge of tears all day, and so chocolate, cheese and tea were the three things I needed the most, and the only one I could have was odd tasting tea. I am convinced that had I been able to indulge in these delicacies as freely as I desired, my mood would have lifted.

In conclusion then, I have realised something by carrying out this challenge: my happiness and comfort appears to be directly and intrinsically linked to my consumption of cheese, chocolate and tea. From henceforth, I will valiantly proclaim their virtues to all peoples I meet, especially those of the vegan persuasion, and never again will I deny myself any of these three simple pleasures. Thank you, silly, nonsensical veganism for opening my eyes; thank you, wonderful, joy-enducing cheese, chocolate and tea, for being you. 

Day Sixteen: My name's Danielle and I'm an Ingeniousaholic

Our challenge yesterday was actually, for us, a relapse. There's this amazing board game, called Ingenious, that my friend introduced to us back in February while we were on holiday together. As soon as we got home, we bought ourselves the game, and played it non-stop, two or three times a day, for probably about a month. We were evangelical about Ingenious, to which anyone who had the pleasure of spending any time with us during that month would bear witness. 

But it was, in all honesty, too much of a good thing. We were obsessed. So we had to break the cycle, which we managed to do (which is a relief because it wouldn't have been long before we were turning down invitations to social events in favour of playing Ingenious, or ignoring the cleaning that needed doing in favour of playing Ingenious, or not eating in favour of playing Ingenious....and where would that end up? Addiction is serious kids.) 

Hence why I said yesterday was a relapse. It was a wonderful, heady experience that made us remember the days gone by, and why we had fallen so hard for Ingenious. It's an.....ingenious game. Perfect for two players (which I find is quite a difficult attribute to come by in games), it also works well for up to four players. It's a sort of dominoes-cum-chequers hybrid whereby you link tiles of matching colours and accrue points based on how many matching colours you arrange in a single row. The ingenious bit is the scoring, though. You're trying to be the first to reach the end point, but also you don't want to be the player who's furthest behind. It's hard to explain on here but basically, it's great! Go and play it right now!

Day Fifteen: Write a poem

Untitled 

Despite its crackling, its crunching and its rustling,

Autumn steals away summer

Conceals it beneath a blanket of dry leaves and cloudy mist

Grey skies and chilly breeze

Really, it's been there all along

Summer struggles against it, but

Autumn always wins 

Entombed in their spiny cases,

Conkers break free 

Ready to clatter and collide in pockets, on playgrounds and on pieces of string

Golden, amber, bronze, copper

Royal colours against a blue sky

Harvest moon and September sun

Early dawns disappear 

Evenings draw in, closer, near

Snuggle up in cosy clothes

Autumn's here

The King of Seasons

Day Thirteen: Go for a walk

In the late afternoon/early evening of our thirteenth activity, I was feeling particularly sluggish and lethargic and floppy, and so we decided that, in order to pep me up a bit, we would go for an early evening walk after tea. Now, normally I don't make such proactive and positive choices when I'm feeling so sluggish and lethargic and floppy, so this was quite a step forward for me. Maybe that's the first evidence of this Fifty Things thing doing me some actual good!

Anyway, we went for a short walk around the West Common, which is just behind our house. We're fortunate to have the Common so close to us; apart from the terrifying horses which freely roam the meadows, it's a lovely, natural, sprawling piece of land just perfect for a quick stroll on a late summer's evening.

I still felt tired afterwards, but infinitely better for the fresh air and a chance to chat and muse things over together. We will definitely try and do this more!

Day Twelve: Watch a Film

Well, the title of this blog post explains the challenge we chose yesterday, so I don't need to say that again. But as a result, I'm unsure how to start this post. Well I suppose I've started it now so that's a relief. 

We don't very often watch films. We watch a lot of telly and enjoy box sets (who doesn't?) but it's been a while since we watched a film together. This is silly because we pay for a subscription to Lovefilm and so get sent a blu-Ray in the post once a month (old school I know), and so really watching a film together should be a regular - you could say monthly - occurrence, but it's not. But I really enjoyed the one we watched yesterday, so maybe we'll get back into watching movies again and eschew box-sets in a fit of anti-bandwagon sentiment. 

We watched Before I Go To Sleep, starring Nicole Kidman and Colin Firth, and I am happy to recommend it as well worth watching, particularly if you've not read the book. Actually, if you've not read the book, read the book, because it's better than the film. Although maybe I'm just saying that because I read the book first....hmmm. So my recommendations would go, in order of recommendation, thus:

1. Read the book, then

2. Watch the film, or

3. If you need some persuading to read the book, watch the film and then read the book, or

4. If you're not a big reader, watch the film instead 

I hope that helps and brings some clarity. 

It's the sort of plot that once you know it and know what happens, any attempts to re-experience it are noticeably devoid of the tension and suspense you enjoyed the first time round. But notwithstanding this fact, the film was still good, which is good if you're going to go with any combination of the recommendations outlined above. Despite knowing the plot, I still felt gripped, jumpy, and frightened (in a good way).

I don't really like Nicole Kidman but she's good in this. Well I say 'good' as if I am some sort of judge of her acting ability and screen presence and other proper things like that; what I actually mean is she wasn't annoying. Colin Firth was, I thought, also very good, and I was surprised because I've not seen him as anything like the role he plays in this film. 

That is the extent of my film-reviewing skills. As an activity for the evening, it was a success, maybe more so because of the fact that we've both read the book and so found ourselves talking about the similarities and differences, and our expectations, more than we might have done otherwise, which added an extra element of interest to the evening. 

Day Eleven: Fish Friday!

Well there seems to a theme developing here....two days in a row of very low-budget, low-effort 'activities' - today we chose off our list, 'Eat fish.'

That's it really - we had fish for tea. You might think that this doesn't strictly count as 'doing something more with our evenings,' and you would be right. But I don't make the rules. Oh wait, I do. And the rule is, we can do what we like. So there. (We will try harder from now on - promise!)

Day Ten: Hello!

Again, we needed a quick and easy to do activity last night, to fit in with - well, I can't lie and pretend we had other pressing matters to attend to - I was exhausted and was in bed by 8:15pm. So we really didn't have time, or energy, to do very much at all. For this reason, we chose to learn 'Hello' in three different languages.

There really is very little to say about this activity, apart from that it turns out I can't learn hello in three different languages in the space of 15 minutes. I have just tested myself, and I only remembered one of them correctly. Here you go:

Hello in Albanian is pershendetje (pronounced per-shen-det-yey).

Hello in Lithuanian is labas (pronounced lab-ass (I've just made that up; it could be lab-az)).

Hello in Bosnian is zdravo (pronounced zz-drav-oh).

I promise to try hard for the rest of today to learn them properly, and to furnish my conversation with them as often as possible.

Day Nine: Back to School

If you don't like bees or politics, look away now, because this post is full of them, swarming and jostling for attention. And that's because our activity for day nine was a somewhat ridiculous and geeky, yet hugely enjoyable, mini research project. Yes, that's right - a research project. The idea was that each of us chose a topic for the other to research. And then, we did that - researched the topic, using whatever means at our disposal (a phone or an ipad with the internet working full pelt). Once we'd completed the research, we had to present what we'd learnt to each other. I chose bees; Tom chose the American political system.

I chose the topic of bees because I think they are a buzzingly fascinating creature. Also, my sister-in-law has recently read a book about bees and since then has loved bees with a passion and fervour that has made me want to learn more. And a final reason is that we currently have a colossal, furry bee lying dead in the gap between the window and the secondary glazing in our lounge (those of you that already knew about said bee - yes, it has been there too long and yes, I really do need to remove it and give it the burial ceremony it deserves). This is a huge Barnaby-worthy mystery because the windows don't open because they're too old, and we keep the secondary glazing closed to keep out the noise from the street. No way in; no way out....how has the bee arrived there, at its final resting place? Did it come there to die? Did it arrive there via a tiny gap in the way as a tiny baby bee, live its life trapped within the panes of glass, somehow invisible to us but growing bigger every day, and then finally die, a fully grown bee? These questions, and others, stoked on by my ardent admirer-of-bees sister-in-law, prompted me to pick bees as my topic of choice.

As I said, Tom went down a slightly different (more intellectual?) route, choosing the American political system for me to investigate. I couldn't have been happier with this. As I said in a previous post, I like knowing things, even if they are largely inconsequential (that's if you call having knowledge that means you beat Tom whenever you're watching a TV quiz show inconsequential). I read a lot of John Grisham, and watch a lot of American telly, and you can't really avoid American politics when there's a presidential election on the horizon, so I've picked up bits and bobs here and there, but was certainly eager to find out more. I'm not going to write about what I discovered because then a) you will know everything I know, thus removing the slight sense of pride I have in knowing (probably) more than you do, and b) you won't experience the enjoyment of finding out for yourself. But, by way of a teaser, here are the notes I made to make my presentation:

As well as knowing the difference between a democrat and a republican, to mention just one of my new areas of expertise (!), I also know the difference between a bumble bee and a worker bee. Did you know that in a bumble bee's nest there can be up to 400 bumble bees, but there can be a phenomenal 50,000 honey bees in one of their hives? Also, only the female bumble bee can sting, and she will only do so to protect herself - she's not aggressive. The queen honey bee lays up to 2500 eggs a day, and a female worker bee will live for just 5-6 weeks and produce, in that time, only half a teaspoon of honey! Incredible! I love bees! Whoever invented them must be super cool!

This was a great activity - each of us learnt lots about two new-to-us topics, and we had fun at the same time, bringing to mind that oft-used quote of my years at university, "Children learn better when they are excited and engaged." (Charles Clarke, Excellence & Enjoyment, 2003 (yes, I've forgotten how to reference properly - sorry Marion)) But don't get me started on the pitfalls of the current education system; I've already ranted about that here. Anywho. Every day's a school day!

Day Eight: Cheeeeese!

I have a suggestion if you would like a good work out: attempt, without the aid of photographer, to take a family photo, but make sure there is a wriggly, energetic one year old joining in. Exhausting!

This was our activity last night and it was good fun. We knew that we needed the evening free for something else, so we chose to do something before we put Reuben to bed. We've got nice photos of Reuben, but we've not got any decent photos of the three of us together and so we thought it would be a fun and worthwhile activity to do. Little did we realise how hard such a simple thing could be! How naive we were...

We have a decent camera - a Canon something or other - and it has a rapid-fire timer function that is quite handy for things like, um, taking a family portrait. The plan was to set up the camera on the coffee table, point it at the sofa, and hey presto. I can remember doing a similar thing as a child; all getting donned in our Sunday best (or it might have been taken on a Sunday in which case we would already have been in Sunday best, because we actually did have Sunday best), hair brushed to within an inch of its life, and sitting and posing smartly. So that was the plan. Ish.

But in reality.....Reuben was exceptionally wriggly, determined to escape and climb up the stairs instead, and then mesmerised/stunned/in awe/baffled by the flashing and clicking of the camera, exaggerated by its rapid firing. So the majority of the photos are me and Tom with goofy smiles, struggling with Reuben who is contorted into a weird position trying to escape while simultaneously staring wide eyed at the camera with a dazed and confused look on his face. All good fun!

So what with the energetic exertions of trying to contain a boisterous one year old on the sofa, and jumping up and down every few seconds to check and reset the camera, then like I said - a good work out. I was exhausted afterwards, but we did, at least, finally get one or two decent photos. I won't be posting the photos on here, and instead was going to find some comedy ones off the internet to share with you, but I've just had a look and they're all just creepy and weird, so I'm not going to. You can have a look if you want! You have been warned!

**Spoiler alert: Watch this space for a future activity on our list - a themed family photo!! And I promise to post the finished result of that on here**

Day Seven: LEAVE ME ALONE OKAY?

I know what you're going to say, and I'm sorry. You just don't know how much pressure we've been under. I can't find enough hours in the day. Put yourself in my shoes. I wasn't feeling very well. The weather's been terrible. The dog ate it.

We didn't do one last night, okay? OKAY? I'm just putting it out there, plain and simple. We didn't. Ran out of time. And it doesn't matter because we knew this would happen so we only planned 49 things. Ha. In your faces.

But, because I feel bad, I have written a new blog about a toilet for your pleasure. You can find it here.

Day Six: Beat your Neighbour

Last night's challenge was one like no other. Where before we've been lighthearted, fun, silly, and at times serious and political, last night got real. It was tense, like an episode of Spooks. It was nail biting, like reading a Grisham thriller. It was, upon reflection, full of those life-defining moments where things change irrevocably but it isn't until afterwards that you realise nothing will ever be the same again.

We played an epic and exciting card game, called Beat your Neighbour. I won't explain the premise of the game here, but you can find detailed instructions here. Suffice to say, allow ample time to read the instructions properly, and maybe watch a video or two on YouTube if you can't find anyone to play with who has played before. It's a tricky, complicated game, with dozens of loopholes and twists and turns (think Puerto Rico or Citadels). It is worth putting in the hours, though, to master this immeasurably exciting game.

Our cards of choice were the inestimable Waddingtons Number 1 Playing Cards (linen finish, of course), which I have to say suited the purpose admirably. As the package details, the cards were made 'according to a comprehensive specification,' to ensure 'perfect cutting and dealing.' I would wholeheartedly agree with this description and can happily confirm that Waddingtons have done as well as they set out to do with this particular set of cards.

The game itself was, as I've already hinted at, full of suspense, bitter rivalry, and painstaking strategising. There is a variety of skills required to be a good player of Beat your Neighbour, and I am happy to say that I appear to have those necessary skills in plentiful supply. No sooner had Tom laid a, let's say Queen, than I returned with a Jack, and Boom! I win the hand! It takes perseverance and practice to get to be as good as I am, but it can be done.

I would urge you to take up this game, as I would say it's every man's game. But be warned, it's not easy, and at times it's not fun due to the high levels of stress and tension that playing it can bring about, but I would say it's worth it for the joy of beating your neighbour. We had a wonderful time, but next time might choose an easier option like Snap or Uno.

Day Five: Abracadabra!

Meet your Match. Super Skimmer. Crazy Fruit Loops. What do these three have in common? No, they're not the names of a new band of Disney superheroes. They are all card tricks. Our fifth 'fifty things' was to learn a magic trick with which to astound and befuddle each other.

Now, I don't really like magic. I think it's silly and weird and it's not magic is it? It's not actually magical that the card disappears, or that the woman is cut in half, or whatever; it's sleight of hand or distraction or just the magician being cleverer than his audience. If it's more than that, then I think it's a bit sinister and creepy and dangerous. And so I'm not really interested (sorry Phil Dunphy).

But nevertheless one of us suggested this activity for our list, and actually it was a lot of fun. I had that whole giggly embarrassed thing that you got as a child if you were performing a song or doing a little made up play in front of your parents or your classmates. The truth is, even the simplest card tricks were actually quite difficult, which isn't surprising really. It's all acting and confidence.

Tom chose to do a disappearing water trick whereby he claimed he could drink a glass of water that was hidden underneath a hat without touching the hat. Now you can probably see this coming (I didn't), but basically he did a load of stupid things around this hat and then invited me to remove the hat to see his triumph: the empty glass. But of course, when I removed the hat, the glass was still full of water, but not for long. With a look of glee in his eye, Tom picked up the glass and drained it. Nice "magic" trick. Ugh. Smarty pants.

My trick, however, was exceptional. I used my powers of deduction and memory to guess the identity of a particular card within the deck, without looking, after Tom had shuffled the deck to within an inch of its life. It was incredible, and safe to say Tom was completely in awe, bemused and flabbergasted at my skill and ingenuity. (I'm not sure he would agree; take my word for it.)

Anyway so that was that. I have to admit that this activity was probably the funniest and most entertaining one we've done so far. We laughed a lot and that can only be a good thing. You should try it! (But don't ask me for ideas. I will never, ever reveal how I do my tricks) Enjoy!

Day Four: Have a takeaway!

A cheeky one yesterday, but since it was the first Friday after the new term began, we chose 'have a takeaway' for our "challenge."

A few days ago I felt like a treat, and thought about buying myself a new coat. Now, I don't need a new coat; I have an obsession with coats so I already own far more than I need. But I convinced myself that I needed this new coat I saw, which cost £50, and that I deserved it, and that it would become a valuable and irreplaceable member of my coat wardrobe. But then, I decided later NO. You DO NOT need a new coat. You have TONS of coats already. Stop being SILLY.

And then....I had a happy thought. I'm £50 up! I have saved £50! Hoorah. I deserve a treat....ooh maybe we could have a takeaway when Tom goes back to work. (Now I know most normal people would just say, 'Let's have a takeaway tonight,' but, well, I'm strange.) I am quite liking this new money saving technique (because that's what it is) and think I will certainly employ it more regularly in the future. Anyway. Hence why we had a takeaway last night. Long (boring) story. Sorry.

The actual takeaway was itself very enjoyable and a lovely treat after getting back into the routine of early starts. It was a bit of a cheat in terms of this Fifty Things thing, as we spent the entire evening on the sofa eating and watching telly, but hey ho. An evening well spent!

Day Three: Dear Karl McCartney MP

Dear reader and blogosphere,

Yesterday we opted to write a letter to our venerable MP, Karl McCartney, for our day's 'one thing.'

I knew I would write to him one day. I don't like the man, and I don't like the party he represents. He seems very self important and his campaign running up the election earlier this year was bizarre to say the least (offending and falling out with all the local papers, and the Students' Union of Lincoln Uni, as well as choosing not to appear at a hustings event where all the other candidates attended and put their views forward. I still can't understand how he got in!)

I didn't, however, think I would end up writing to him about a photo. I am embarrassed that it took that photo to push me into action. I am embarrassed that the refugees in Calais were on my mind all day yesterday, but not the day before. I was embarrassed to be part of this country, until yesterday, when a huge surge showed the rest of Europe, 'We're not David Cameron! We are compassionate and big-hearted and don't care what it takes: we will help you.'

It's hard to know what to do though, isn't it? Giving money or donations is good and definitely worth doing, but it's a bit distant and comfortable and easy - I can do that without feeling it, without noticing it. Any fundraising events would be fun and enjoyable and give me a sense of well-being and pride, which conflicts within me because how can I justify that when it contrasts so harshly to what those people are going through in Calais?

I can't help but feel cross though. There are people who are incensed that we as a country are considering taking in more refugees. Why should we feel guilty? they say. It's not our fault, they say. Who cares whose fault it is? I say. There are people in need, real life human people who are just like us, and they need help. They don't need a lot - they need the basics that we all take for granted. I think it's disgusting that some Brits are making themselves feel better with political arguments and excuses. I genuinely think that some people here in the UK believe that these refugees and migrants are a different type of human - completely foolhardy, greedy, deluded and stupid. Utter rubbish. We all need to take a look around - think about it with our eyes and heart open - and stop ignoring the world.

Right, I need to go. Thanks for reading and I'll be in touch again soon.

Yours sincerely,
Danielle

Day Two: Newton's English Dictionary

Yesterday's impelling exploit was to learn three intimidatingly impressive new words from the great English language. I wonder if you can guess which three words they are from the plethora of beguiling vocabulary located in the paragraphs below; words espoused and scattered to celebrate language like confetti is scattered to celebrate a wedding.

I heard recently that the English language is one of the most replete and manifold languages on the planet, which is down to our mixed heritage and the fact that we've appropriated and adapted words from other cultures and countries which have now made their way into common English usage*. It's also because English, unlike some other languages, has been written down and recorded for many hundreds of years, so we have a prodigious bank to fall back on of old and ancient words which are dying out, being resurrected, or have been long extinct for some time. If you are interested in etymology, I can heartily recommend Bill Bryson's book 'The Mother Tongue' for an easy to read, informative and enjoyable romp through the journey of the English language. But it has got me thinking that we must, in general, use a negligible proportion of the English language in our day-to-day speech, which should attract public opprobrium.

Maybe if we all endeavoured a little more assiduously? I have a predilection for reading and learning, which with it brings a penchant for word games like crosswords and anagrams. It's puerile but I like knowing things that other people don't know, because I'm asinine and narcissistic like that. So I'm happy to be on the lookout (and sound out?) for new words, but I fear that in then using these words, I would be creating more problems for myself. Why know the meaning of a word like obstreperous? I could use it in a sentence ('My neighbour's obstreperous puppy has made a repugnant mound of mess outside my front door - again.')  but no-one, apart from maybe Stephen Hawking or the Queen, or someone even cleverer, would know what I meant (sorry; please don't take offence that I assume you don't know the meaning of the word obstreperous. But you don't, do you?) So really it is unavailing and inopportune, not to mention an uneconomic use of breath and time, to litter ones speech with words such as these, and yet still I find that I want to learn more and more.

I find myself longing, when reading something like Austen or Hardy, that we still spoke like that what they used to do in them olden days of yore. Characters in these books are so expressive, so concise, so efficient and so intelligent in the way they communicate with each other that they can not infrequently do so just using words. They don't need emojis, or descriptions of actions or facial expressions so that the reader knows that they were feeling gorgonized, or blithe or lugubrious. I find, by contrast, that I can scarcely write a text now without finishing it with an emoticon, lest the recipient think unduly that I am being saccharine or sarcastic.

So there we go. Having arrived at our destination - the end of this blog post - how has my use of the English language left you feeling? Because I think it probably hasn't uplifted you, encouraged you or inspired you, which I suppose a good blog post should do. But maybe it has entertained you vaguely, which I suppose will have to do :)


*I can't understand why living in a country so well-stocked and abundant when it comes to diverse people groups and ethnicities is a reality apparently so pestiferous to some. We should surely embrace, celebrate and enjoy the various nationalities that call Great Britain home, and welcome their contributions and enrichment to all aspects of our society and culture, rather than close the doors in Calais and let no one else in. Sorry - can't be avoided today

Day One: Play a goofy drawing game

So our fun has officially begun! Hoorah! We had a very busy day yesterday what with family visiting, and with Tom getting ready for the new term which started today, so it wasn't until later on in the evening (well, my version of later on - it was probably actually only about 8:30pm) that we finally got round to choosing something off our list.

Our first choice was a game, catchily called the 'Drawing with your Eyes Closed' game. In case you can't work out how the game works, basically you close your eyes and draw someone and the other person has to guess who it is. Great fun! I think it was first invented about 15 years ago by my friend Hannah (so if you're reading this Hannah, your game-inventing skills speak for themselves).

Drawing with your Eyes Closed is a very silly game but I will let you judge for yourselves...

I am pretty certain that these samples have barely made you smile, let alone giggle like we did last night, which just goes to show that this is definitely one of those 'had to be there' type games. 

So there we go - that's Day One; done! I wonder what Day Two will bring....

PS. I said some of the items on our list weren't particularly interesting didn't I!

Fifty Things: The Thing Is...

I don't know about you, but I always end up doing the same things in the evening, especially now that I have a baby. Clearing up, sorting laundry, mindlessly checking facebook/twitter/instagram, watching telly, and then bed. You know the drill.

And so, in an effort to be a more interesting person and have a more interesting post-putting-baby-to-bed life, my husband and I have written a list of 50 things, ranging from mundane to fun - via interesting, odd, healthy, silly, yummy, helpful - which we are aiming to work our way through over the course of 50 days.

I like writing, (you can read some of my other blogs here and here) so I thought it would be fun to blog about each one of our 'mini adventures' which is where this new blog comes in! We are starting on September 1st, and by my calculations Day 50 will be October 20th. Perhaps by then we'll have come up with another list of fifty, or maybe we'll be longing for our mundane evenings of yesteryear....

Hopefully you will enjoy reading about what we get up to (feel free to comment using the section at the bottom), and maybe you too will be inspired to do Fifty Things in Fifty Days!