Island Dreaming

It's November!

2011-11-10T12:06:00.001Z

October was a craaaazy month and I can't believe that we are now well into November. A combination of life, a hectic social schedule, a broken internet connection and blogging blahs piled up and now here I am, dazed and confused, wondering where the time went.

The UK blog list is up, though not complete yet. I would say give me a week, but, well you know how I am with deadlines. Thank you all for taking the time to add your suggestions. It is already quite a long list, though I hope that there are more out there! Keep the suggestions coming please.

Today was my day to blog over the Co-op, I'll be back here within the week hopefully; and dropping by and actually commenting on all the new blogs you've led me to.

Calling UK bloggers

2011-09-29T13:38:00.001+01:00

Just a quick one, really. I want to compile a list of UK frugal/green/simple living blogs on a separate page here. I have some favourites, but I am hoping that there are many many more out there.

I have nothing against all you lovely US and Australian bloggers, quite the contrary. But you are prolific and make up a sizeable proportion of my feeds! And as you all tend to link to your fellow native bloggers, I find myself reading more and more non UK blogs. Simple, green and frugal living in the UK looks very different to your home countries, not least because of the general scale of our living arrangements here.

So fellow Brits - a chance for flagrant self promotion, or promotion on behalf of your favourite bloggers. If you consider yourself a predominantly UK based frugal/green/simple living focused blogger, please leave a link in the comments below. Ta.

Mulling

2011-09-27T15:43:00.001+01:00

I suspected, before we even locked our front door and joined the stream of late summer weekend traffic, that our second excursion to Norfolk as a family would leave me with much to contemplate. Since we decided earlier in the year that Norfolk is our preferred destination when we leave this place, I have done a fair amount of behind the scenes ruminating, including confronting resurfacing doubts as to whether it's actually a good plan. I suspected that our trip would settle the matter once and for all.

I am a fickle beast; prone to announcing that I have finally settled on my grand plan (oh how many variations on 'when I grow up I want to be a ____' I have uttered over the years) only to recant within the month, week or hour, which is why I haven't discussed our plan since first announcing it, for fear of making a complete wally of myself.

We had a great time exploring, gadding about the countryside, visiting some old friends and old haunts. We discussed these troublesome doubts of mine whilst we were there, and we discussed them some more when we got back.

Norfolk still holds, still consumes my thoughts on a daily basis, still looms large in my mind as I rewrite our budget yet again. There are still questions; and answers semi-formed; to mull, however. So that is what I am doing. Which is to say, expect to hear a lot more about it from now on.

What are you mulling over right now?

♫ Oh we did like to be beside the seaside...

2011-09-20T16:24:00.000+01:00

Oh we did like to be beside the sea ♫...

We have just returned from a week away at my favouritest place on this side of the earth. Oh how I wish we could have stayed. There were a good few family arguments, rainy days and toddler meltdowns. And yet...

there was sand and sea and sun:

there were sunsets (and a Nick chilled out enough to pick up his camera after a long hiatus and take photos of them):

there was the delicious local food:

there was even (the tail end of) Hurricane Katia:

It brought rainbow spray. Sigh.

Thank you to all of you who left comments in my absence. I hope you have had a good week wherever you have been and whatever you have been up to.

The trouble with chutney

2011-09-08T15:41:00.001+01:00

The green tomatoes didn't really ripen too well on the windowsill, probably thanks to all the clouds loitering around these parts at the moment. Kind souls from all around have offered me chutney recipes as a way to deal with my green tomato harvest. I like sugar, I love vinegar, I adore sweet and sour anything. What could be the problem? I couldn't bear to tell a single one of those kind souls my very unfrugal, unautumnal, unsweet-and-sour worshiping secret.

I hate chutney. I am not a chutney person. I have never met a chutney that I have really enjoyed.

So it came as a surprise to me that I found a spare six hours in my hectic schedule to make chutney yesterday. A simple means to deal with the tomatoes threatening to turn bad, I had planned on giving most of it away, leaving only a token jar for the men of the house to enjoy. I spent several hours scanning recipes hoping to alight across something that appealed; and in so doing, I struck upon the root of my problem with chutney. I have never met a piece of chutney worthy dried fruit that I actually like. Sultanas, apricots and raisins...mollasses-y chewy yuck. And all of the recipes I found were brimming with dried fruit.

With understanding comes healing. I made this recipe up as I went along, using the unripe and half ripe Purple Calabash tomatoes. Aren't they ugliful?

Ugly Tom's Chutney

1.5kg mixed green and under ripe tomatoes, chopped
0.5kg young tart apples, chopped
350g onions, chopped
6 garlic cloves, slivered
150g demerara sugar
200g white granulated sugar
200ml balsamic vinegar
150ml white wine vinegar
250ml malt vinegar
1 1/2 tsp powdered ginger
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
Motherload of ground black pepper (I spent several minutes of grinding)
2 bay leaves
1 tbsp sea salt

Simply bring all the ingredients to the boil in a large pan...

Simmer down over a low heat for several hours, stirring frequently as it thickens, until reduced enough to leave a trace when the spoon is drawn through...

Remove the bay leaves, bottle, christen and label.

As for post bottling processing...I did it the traditional British way with quaint disregard for botulism, USDA guidelines, or scalded fingers. Next year I may get organized and take the prescribed safer route instead (not least because it gives me an excuse to buy pretty Kilner jars).

I like this chutney. This recipe makes just under two litres, most of which I will be keeping for ~~myself~~ ourselves. It tastes like a slightly hot cross between tomato ketchup (which I heart) and brown sauce (which I most definitely don't heart - molasses-y) and I like it. It was my intention to leave them to mature for a few months, but so far one of the small jars is nearly empty. Turns out it makes a nice basis for a sweet and sour marinade and is also a good dip for chips. Not bad for some very ugly fruits.

Fun

2011-09-06T11:10:00.000+01:00

I am sorry for the slow replies to your lovely comments. I am not getting in front of a PC much at the moment. I am in awe of people with babies and toddlers who are organised enough to blog everyday! I am reading your blogs through the wonder of mobile technology in the quiet moments when I am sat with a sleeping baby on me, but commenting is difficult on such a tiny screen.

Instead of screen time, we have been having lots of other types of fun. Allotmenting, foraging, walking, baking, gardening, painting, play-doughing, crocheting, eating - all of which I hope to find the time to tell you about this week...

Though I think this picture tells you everything you need to know. That's what happens when you pile awhole week of fun onto the dining room table. That and TV dinners.

Tomato woe

2011-08-25T14:48:00.000+01:00

I know that I should have staked them the moment I planted them in the ground, but The Boy and his dad were grumpy and whining (yes, actually whining) to go home and get food. So we left the sturdy, perfectly formed tomato plants that I had carefully nurtured for so many months to put down roots unsupported. Unfortunately, I didn't personally get back to the allotment in the ensuing fortnight of hot moist weather to continue my nurturing - but boy did they put down roots in that time. Which meant that not only were the tomato plants not staked, they were also never pinched out, resulting in lots of foliage and few flower trusses. When I did get to them I removed as much of the excess foliage as I could, but quite frankly couldn't tell which branch belonged to which plant.

Unfortunately, because the plants are sprawling along the paths and over one another, the fruit that has set are dangling close to the ground and are being eaten by slugs, or are failing to ripen for lack of sun. We will be picking green tomatoes rather early this year and that our harvest from 10 plants (that could have kept us in tomato sauce almost all winter) will be measly. Sigh.

The tomato tale is painful, because home grown tomatoes are of course the very best flavour in the whole garden - and the few handfuls that we have brought home are delicious, a teaser of what could have been. I wish I could say that the woe stopped at the tomato bed - but it did not. The 2011 allotment tale is full of failures, of could haves and should haves and would haves.

There has been, and continues to be, a lot of empty ground, that could have produced something, anything, other than dust and weeds. Sigh.

There have been, and continue to be, a whole lot of weedy patches amongst the crops we did actually get into the ground. Sigh.

Thankfully, there have also been; and hopefully will continue to be; some small victories. We never come home empty handed, in fact we usually come home with a tote bag full of edible, organic veg (even if it is usually always some combination of beans, chard, beetroot and courgette). We have even eaten a few meals made entirely from our own allotment produce. We have a salad drawer full of new potatoes and two handsome and pungent braids of garlic hanging in the kitchen. The squash are fattening up nicely and the potatoes and oca are rampant. This week we finally sowed some late root crops. We have learnt a few lessons, such as ~~quit your whining and stake the god damn tomatoes~~ to never put off for tomorrow what needs to be and can be done today.

This year is OK and there is nothing we can do to improve that. Next year will be better and that is where our energy now needs to go. Sigh...of relief.

Grow sunflowers

2011-08-12T09:38:00.002+01:00

We planted out five or six sunflowers on the allotment - a couple of giants that we are just starting to flower; and some of a smaller multi headed variety that are well into their flowering stage. Sunflowers are incredibly low maintenance and you get a lot of bang for your buck. They attract beneficial insects, add a cheerful splash of colour - and eventually bear a nutritious (and relatively expensive to buy) food crop. What could be better than that?

It took minutes to separate the seeds from the flower heads - they are ready to go when the petals have fallen and back of the head is beginning to brown.

We have recently begun adding various seeds to our breads, and the small packets you buy in the supermarkets are expensive - paying for the convenience of a shelled seed. The shelling is relaxing however, like most things that make you use your own two hands; and can be done whilst sat watching TV or nattering.

We will store these in their shells (they will keep fresher that way) until we know we will need them and shell them in small batches, enough for a couple of loaves at a time. Some of the seeds will be resown next year, perhaps we will try and develop our own variety. There may even be a tallest sunflower competition. I envision a whole bed of them...did I mention how gloriously cheerful and pretty they are?

Not a creature was stirring

2011-08-11T07:43:00.001+01:00

I have been up for almost an hour - very early for me, especially at this time when I try to stay in bed for as long as humanly possible to catch up on all the shut eye I am missing. The weather has turned decidedly autumnal and the breeze coming in to the open bedroom window caused a sneezing fit cured only by a nice warming cup of tea. The house is quiet - and I am awake to witness it. Bliss.

I wish I could summon up the energy to do something productive. I could be using this time to sort the laundry, to spin, to wash up last nights dishes, to weed the garden, to bake bread - but I would prefer to be here writing this, for the simple fact that I love stringing letters one after another; and I don't have as much time to devote to it as I would like. This blog is not just an opportunity to reflect on my daily life (important), to connect with like minded folk (also important), but it gives me a chance to exercise my grey matter a little in a life dominated by toddler talk, house work and nappies (all good things). If there is one thing I have missed from my university days, apart from the freedom to stay up until 5am and rise sometime the next afternoon, is the opportunity to write and to think deeply about things. These days, the opportunity to do both at the same time rarely occurs.

If you are in the UK and have been affected by the riots of the last four nights, I wish you the very best. As an outsider looking in from a city that as it turned out didn't erupt into violence and flames and mayhem, I can't comprehend the impact it will have on the individuals and communities who were affected. The dust appears to now be settling - I hope that the aftermath brings out the very best in us all.

Old friend

2011-08-07T22:24:00.001+01:00

At first, it was the queasy fatigue ofearly pregnancy that stood between me and my then new but cherishedfriend. After that had passed, it was the frenzy of decluttering andorganising that consumed much of my spare time. Finally, last month, when I placed mydrop spindle and fibre on the new shelves we had bought to keep precious thingsprecious, I felt a pang of longing and regret. I lifted her downfrom the shelf, examined her...and realised that in my conditionthere was no way that we could attempt to (learn to) do productive work together. Icouldn't see my own feet, let alone a spindle. She would have to waita little longer.

Today, she came down from the shelf and(literally) out into the sunshine. I repaired her – withintwo minutes of her arrival in this house, she was dropped from a fairheight onto a tiled hearth. Now with a little TLC and Bostik, she is all patched up, though she still sports a fancy holographic bandage for show. We spent half an hour out in the garden, and celebrated our reunion with a length of purple roving whilst The Boys and The Girl played nicely inside.

This, from the fourth pack of roving I have attempted to spin, is the most even, finest thread I have produced so far; and for a 7 month absence from spinning and a slightly blustery day, its quite an achievement - I might actually produce a usable yarn!. I am still as enamoured with the spinning thing as when, for no good reason, it first captured my imagination. Completely smitten, still.

When we're cleaning windows...

2011-08-03T13:59:00.001+01:00

Thank you for all your lovely messages regarding The Girl. Still just peachy and easy going. Hope it stays that way!

In a feat of extraordinary organisational ability (for me, anyway), Monday turned out to be quite a productive day. My biggest fear was that being alone all day with two small children, my relatively new-found and quite fragile grasp of routine housekeeping would fall apart completely. Whilst the influx of new 'stuff' that comes with a new person has left us space challenged once again; the untidiness isn't catastrophic.

The windows at the back of the house have required cleaning for a while and Monday was a gloriously sizzling day. Whilst The Girl slept, The Boy and I knuckled down to righting the wrongs inflicted on our windows over the year (yes, a whole year since I last tackled them, slovenly I know) by salt and dust laden wind and rain, sticky fingers, kitty paws and more recently, wax crayon doodles.

The last time I tried to clean them I used a generous dose of Ecover washing up liquid and a terry nappy to wash the worst off, followed by a vinegar and newspaper buff. Unfortunately the dish soap had no effect whatsoever on the salt deposits and I gave up and just left them at that. Turns out the secret to clear unsalted windows is a tiny amount of Ecover (less than a teaspoon in a few litres of water) with a good slug of vinegar added at the washing stage. This even, with a little bit more elbow grease, got rid of the wax crayon doodles that I had expected would need to be scraped off.

If you can enlist a willing toddler to do most of the hard washing work for you, and just rewipe any bits that they miss, so much the better - though perhaps reserve their slightly sloppy efforts to the outside of the windows, unless you want a soaked carpet. I have been trying to get The Boy to take responsibility for the messes he has a hand in creating; and whilst it can be a running battle to get him to pick toys up or tidy away his laundry, he will engage happily in any household task that involves bubbles.

After washing down the windows thoroughly, a generous spraying with a 50/50 cooled boiled water/vinegar mix (we have very hard water around here, hence the boiling), buffed vigorously with crumpled sheets of newspaper, left them gleaming:

The ink from the newspaper did run and smudge on the plastic window frames, but it was nothing that a damp cloth and the vinegar solution couldn't remove.

We spend around £25 on cleaning 'ingredients' every year, excluding the laundry - about £14 of which buys a five litre bottle of washing up liquid (the current one has done a solid 18 months and is just running out), the remainder going on soda crystals (which also go in with the laundry), bar soap (any hard soap will do), bicarbonate of soda, citric acid, vinegar and a bottle of thin bleach (used very sparingly it lasts a few years), along with the odd replacement scrubbing brush/broom head. All of the cloths are re-purposed from old socks, t-shirts and terry nappies.These simple ingredients, used in the right way, allow even lazy me to make things sparkle with relatively little effort. Also, if you are smearing your windows with expensive chemical laden commercial cleaners that carry a room ventilation warning, toddler labour is something you just can't engage, another great reason to invest in a few cheaper, greener cleaning basics...

How do you clean your house?

The marrow patch kid

2011-07-27T11:36:00.001+01:00

We are back - you may have guessed where we have been?

This is Elsa and she is just peachy. The most lovely thing I have ever clapped eyes upon, bar her brother, who she is the spitting image of.

Unfortunately for her, cute only gets you so far in this house and she is already singing for her supper - hence we will be measuring all marrows in Elsas from here on in. This one is exactly one Elsa in weight and length - a courgette gone rogue in our week long absence from the allotment.

I haven't done much more in the last twelve days than look at The Girl in awe for hours, defend her from her very loving but over enthusiastic brother and try and catch forty-winks here and there. I think I have got the hang of it now. I don't know why it should be easier with two, but so far it seems everything has slotted into place. All is good with the world. Normal service will be resumed shortly.

The mother of invention

2011-07-13T11:04:00.000+01:00

As part of my winter preparations, a new hat is in order for yours truly - last year's acrylic crochet ensemble was a little too baggy tea cosy like, a little too garish and not warm enough. A browse of Ravelry led me to conclude that I wasn't going to find a suitable crochet pattern that (a) was big enough for my huge head (b) compatible with any of the stashed yarn I have to work with or (c) wouldn't look ridiculous on me. In the end I bit the bullet and begun to search the knitting patterns - ignoring anything with colourwork, cables, lace, fancy shaping or any other extravagance that could trigger another knitting related mental breakdown in me (though that happened later anyway when I happened across the bag containing the infuriating unfinished jumper that originally triggered it). I finally settled on this Wurm hat in Sublime Extra Fine Merino Wool DK.

Knitting in the round is one form of knitting that still holds some charm for me. I am mesmerised that the humans who came before me worked out how to create the most important extremity-protecting garments - the socks, the hats, the gloves - using just their opposable thumbs, a clutch of double pointed sticks (and particular kudos to the smart-arse that threw away all but two and joined them with a length of string) and some nifty shaping techniques. I like the fact that rows and rows of knit stitches form stocking stitch - no need for any awkward purling or turning or sewing up. I like the fact that thanks to the short needles it can be done, bleary-eyed, with a baby balanced asleep on my lap at 3am should the need arise - and last time around, the need arose fairly frequently. It's not crochet, but it is a beautiful thing nonetheless.

Unfortunately, during the great knitting revolt of 2010 and the great house decluttering of 2011, the DPNs and circular needles have been mislaid, bar a single set of 4.5mm circulars - which having found my pattern and being itching to get started, is annoying. The cooler weather combined with my being unproductively beached like a whale on the sofa for much of my day just served to remind me that I have lots to do between now and autumn and I shouldn't be wasting more time than I have to. In desperation I remembered a set of kebab skewers that I had saved for use as plant markers and serendipitously they were 4mm in diameter, just the size required - a quick sharpen with a pencil sharpener and I was ready to cast on. They would be better if I could have been bothered to find sand paper; and five would be easier than the four I have, but beggars can't be choosers and they have performed admirably.

As I rarely need DPNs this wide, these will probably become my permanent set, saving me several pounds; I will have to trail the charity shops and eBay for my finer pairs - though I am now tempted to go the DIY route and make my own from dowelling. I hereby offer my apologies to my dearest OH for the rant about the evils of expensive preprepared kebabs I subjected him to when he brought home the offending pack from the shop as we have managed to get our money's worth. Happily, it looks like I will have warm ears this winter.

Preparing for winter part 2

2011-07-12T23:44:00.000+01:00

Whilst we don't regularly suffer extreme weather conditions in the UK (last year being an 'extreme' winter for us), we do have four 'proper' seasons. I like winter weather, as long as I am prepared for it. I like the cosy feeling of being wrapped up and impervious to the gales and to the drenching rain. I like being swathed in layers of fabric and hats and gloves and scarves, big chunky boots and socks.

I am shockingly under prepared in the clothing department for winter this year. The dull winter coat that I have sported for the last two years, that I bought out of desperation just as cold weather set in, was never really that warm and never fitted my long top heavy frame properly. Last year's snow and slush was a miserable experience as the icy winds went straight through me - one of the reasons that I couldn't wait for spring to arrive this year. My lovely winter boots that have seen me through the last few years fell completely apart this spring - zip and soles - and the quoted cost of repairing them was astronomical. This year I need to replace almost everything and don't want to succumb to desperation and part with more cash for less value than I have too.

Whilst Operation Preparing for Winter Part 1 isn't going so well (as you can see from all that still naked glazing and wispy curtains), clothing us is going rather better. I rediscovered the joys of eBay this week and for the princely sum of £21.78 (inclusive of P&P) I have bought my own and the kids' winter coats.

I didn't expect to find a full length wool coat, in my size and in mint condition, within 5 minutes of beginning to look - a coat I actually lusted after brand new a couple of years ago but that was way out of my budget, so this was obviously (obviously) meant to be. It certainly made the frustrating hour I spent recovering my long abandoned eBay and Paypal accounts worthwhile. The Boy is delighted with his faux-sheepskin hooded coat and has been parading around the house in it for much of the day. The Girl's coat is in the post and I am just hoping that she likes purple. Buying second-hand clothing makes some people squeamish, but when it comes to expensive garments like outerwear that you want to last a few years, it makes perfect sense. It is also the way to go for children - The Boy's first coat cost an arm and a leg new, for just four months of wear. This coat should see me through several years - at least four or five, hopefully more - if I look after it. It is warmer, longer and more attractive than anything I could buy on the high street for the same price, if I could buy anything for the same price. It is definitely worth the time and effort of searching regularly (out of season) for whatever you need.

There is still plenty to be done. I need to dig out and launder the winter accessories. Gloves need to be strung together so that when they are inevitably lost, they are lost in pairs and won't feel lonely. The Girl won't be old enough for shoes and I feel a woolly-bootie craft project coming on. The adults in this house could probably do with some nice warm woolly socks too, though I have never actually finished any of the knitted pairs that I have started and there is no reason to suspect that this year will be any different. I am even considering giving primitive crocheted socks a go as I imagine that they grow faster and less complainingly than their knitted counterparts. Pyjamas and slippers and robes need to be sourced too as we are determined to keep the heating off as much as possible this year. The to-do lists are getting ever longer, but actually this one is much more manageable than the house prep - and the thought of being wrapped up in swathes of warm fabric when this lovely warm weather fades makes me almost excited about the prospect of a cold winter.

And yes, I understand that Sod's law dictates that this will be the mildest winter on record. Better to make hay whilst the sun shines, however, just in case.

Information is power

2011-07-07T12:00:00.002+01:00

I have begun recording our gas and electricity meter readings again, on paper, once a week, in the hope that we will be able to set a realistic usage reduction goal. I have finally found a use for the 'set reminder' alarm function on my phone and now it beeps at me every Wednesday and tells me to read the meters. You can of course do this by looking at your bill statements - though if they are anything like ours, they probably appear to be deliberately complicated and misleading and it will be simpler to do it yourself.

Yesterday I moved our energy monitor from the dingy corner of the kitchen where it has sat virtually ignored for a year to a prominent spot on the living room mantelpiece. You don't actually need one of these gadgets to monitor your usage (I would never have bought one as they cost the best part of a weeks food budget) but if you can borrow one or get one free from your electricity company, it is a conspicuous reminder that you are using energy constantly - and therefore spending money constantly. I had great fun going around the house turning everything off at the wall, trying to get the reading down to zero (yep, that is fun to me). In a few weeks when it has become second nature to do so, we won't need it any more and will save the money (admittedly pennies) that it costs to run.

My thrifty instincts are in overdrive at the moment - I don't know if it is the drop in income (though bouts of thriftiness do not necessarily coincide with bouts of necessity), or that I desperately want to get started on saving up for my little house in Norfolk, or just my utter contempt for a system that thrives on parting me from my life energy in the form of earned money - but it is good to be on the wagon. Many people may think that studiously tracking consumption is a waste of their time, but personally I find that it keeps me on track and usually opens my eyes to something I have previously missed that may cut our expenditure further. It is the first step to recognizing where your energy and focus actually goes - as opposed to where you think it may go.

House proud

2011-07-06T15:25:00.000+01:00

Now that my house is fairly uncluttered, keeping it tidy and clean has become easier - and more of a priority. I notice things now that didn't really bother me before - or if they did, they were dwarfed by the much larger piles of clutter and chaos looming in the background. One particular bugbear of mine? Kitty footprints. We seem to have the grubbiest footed cats in the neighborhood - rain or shine they bring dust, soil and other muck into the kitchen and across the lino. This is where we put their food bowls, so it gets particularly grubby particularly quickly. Or it did, until this morning.

I finished this rag rug last night - it is cheap, cheerful and recycled - all of my favourite things. I simply cut inch wide strips of old sheets and fabric offcuts and crocheted rows of double crochet (that's single crochet to those of you in the US) with a 7mm hook. With hindsight, 1 inch is probably excessive - it was quite hard work pulling the loops through which made my hands sore. If I were to make a bigger one I would use thinner strips and a larger hook - though it has made a substantial rug that doesn't slide around and will stand up to frequent washing. Did I mention it was cheerful?

OK, I have a long way to go before anyone could describe me as house proud. But caring about kitty prints is a start, yes? And doing something about it - even better?

Time to whip out the teapot?

2011-07-04T16:11:00.003+01:00

I have always drunk both tea and coffee - one of my earliest memories is of being given 'tea' first thing in the morning - basically warm milk that had had a teabag dipped in it for a few seconds.

I went through a phase in my early twenties where I had quite a collection of loose leaf teas and used to brew them properly, but fell out of the habit. Tea drinking holds a special place in British culture (according to Wikipedia we have the joint second highest consumption in the world at 2kg per person per year - assuming there are 3g of tea in a teabag, that's roughly 666.666667 odd cups) - but like most things that have become cheaper and more convenient, we have paid it less and less respect. Some of the big main brands are just plain awful; and yet at work I have supped them mindlessly anyway. Sitting down for a cuppa is something that I know my nan did; and my great nan and my great great nan... and that is quite comforting. I doubt I will ever give up the caffeine entirely, but I would like to cut back and start treating it with the respect it deserves.

Every morning now one of us gets up and brews a cafetiere of coffee, which sets us up for the day. We stopped using instant coffee about two years ago as we found most of the instant fairtrade coffees didn't taste that good and were quite expensive. This has actually turned out to be more frugal and healthier for us, because we drink less coffee - one or two cups a day, as opposed to four or five - but what we do drink is better quality. There is something grounding about boiling the water, waiting for the whistle of the kettle, pottering around the kitchen whilst waiting for it to brew, before finally sitting down with a cup to drink. Our tea on the other hand is generally the bagged variety brewed in the mug. The mornings that we choose to have a quick cup of tea don't feel quite so...peaceful. As a result, the coffee is generally winning out.

Last week I was in the shop where we buy our tea and coffee and they had a display of their fairtrade products. The bagged tea and loose leaf tea were sat next to each other and surprisingly, the shelf labels gave a price per 100g for both products. The loose leaf tea was about ten percent cheaper than the bagged variety - and of course, because it has room to properly unfurl and stew when loose in a pot, you actually need less than is packed into one teabag to brew a decent cup of tea. The loose leaf variety also removes an extra layer of processing and packaging which can only be a good thing, surely?

I have dusted off the teapot and will be buying a box of loose leaf tea when our current store runs out. Does anyone else use loose leaf tea? Or a teapot? Does it work out cheaper?

Apologies!

2011-07-04T10:01:00.000+01:00

Blogger is driving me up the wall at the moment. I have just realized I haven't replied to some comments in the last two months because I haven't been receiving emails about them. I will be checking the Blogger dashboard every few days to try and keep up!

I love hearing from you all, please don't take it personally if I have ignored you!

Upcycle this

2011-06-30T20:09:00.000+01:00

I tend to agree with the statement that most of the best things in life are free. That dish marked 'Free' that comes with your Indian takeaway order, the one that is probably the ends of several different dishes mixed together? Quite often the tastiest one. This is my 'Free' of the month, pulled from the top of a neighbour's rubbish collection:

My friends and I used to derive great pleasure as children from pulling perfectly serviceable items out of the huge walk in skip that was placed near to our house for the Sunday market traders to dispose of their waste. To this day I have no idea why most of it found its way straight into the skip instead of a reduced pile, as this was the early to mid nineties when the majority were struggling economically (oh my how times change!). Amongst the cardboard boxes and rotten fruit we quite often found brand new items of clothing from the clothing stalls, slightly dented trays of juice drinks and even entire boxes of fresh fruits. I found a plastic laundry basket once that was slightly scuffed - it served as our laundry basket for at least the next 10 years. I was most proud to take that home as the red colour matched our kitchen. For a good few years, we made a good living out of that skip, though our parents were tinged with more than a little shame at our activities.

I am still a Womble at heart and hate seeing perfectly good useful items go to waste. Unfortunately, many people balk at the idea of even donating their unwanted things to charity shops, let alone buying from them. No matter how many magazines and TV programs advocate 'upcycling', vintage living and thrifting - there is still a whole world of difference in many people's minds between those trendy pursuits and being seen to actually take something out of a skip or buy from a charity shop (and I am not suggesting that anyone needs to wade around in rotting garbage here). I haven't actually been criticised or looked at pityingly yet for this particular piece of scavenging, but previous instances loom large in my mind and there are plenty of people I know who wouldn't share my enthusiasm for it.

Shame shouldn't come from making good use of something discarded, something free for the taking - it should come from sending enormous quantities of useful things to landfill and sneering at those that would want to divert those things from the waste stream, whether out of material necessity or just because they hate waste. I live in a street where, luckily, vanity doesn't get in the way of common sense. People commonly leave unwanted items outside of their property for twenty-four hours with a 'free to a good home' notice, before they attempt to dispose of them elsewhere - and other people generally take them.

I suspect that the ongoing economic problems that swathes of the western world are experiencing will humanize us a little. I hope that the quite frankly vile lust for money, bling and superior social status that has been exalted by our culture for the last few decades will give way to a kinder, less wasteful society. A lot more people seem to be reassessing their needs and just trying to get by - which in turn will lead to a greater respect for thrift and creativity and the conservation of precious resources. I hope, but then, I am a dreamer.

Anyway, two tester pots of paint and a few hours waiting for paint to dry and this is as good as new - and usefully storing all those little things that seem to clutter up surfaces for want of a better home. My year long decluttering mission is now 'complete' - the rooms are relatively clutter free and now it is just the small task of finding the best place for our remaining possessions. T'is done.

June harvest

2011-06-30T15:22:00.000+01:00

OK - the allotment hasn't been going as well as we planned. By which I mean we haven't been sowing and tending as much as we planned thanks to Nick starting his work placement and me being increasingly tired and ungainly. The hellish end of May didn't help either. Still, a harvest is a harvest no matter how small; and June has been the first month where anything has actually made it back from the plot to our kitchen.

The tally so far, rounded to the nearest 100g -

Broad beans (The Sutton) - 4.5kg in pod, not including the several handfuls of tender young pods that never made it home as they were so nommable straight off the plant. We eat the beans, the guinea pigs eat the pods. Next year we will devote a whole bed to these and pull a few plants as and when we need space for later legumes, because considering how little attention the 8 plants that took have had, they have cropped prolifically.

Garlic 'Solent Wight' - 2 bulbs so far harvested wet (about 100g). The rest will come up in about a month, if I can resist the lovely sweet bulbs as they stand now.

Courgette 'Black Beauty' - 2.1kg so far excluding one I forgot to weigh. 4 good sized tender courgettes and one heading for marrow-hood. Two of the three plants suddenly rocketed into action in the last fortnight and are thick with developing fruits. I hate courgettes from the shop, but fresh off the plant and sauteed with salt and pepper they are delicious.

Potato volunteer - 800g, not from the allotment, but from a pot in the back garden. I was going to pull it but instead let it do its thing. We got a lunch out of it (a courgette potato rosti type thing) for absolutely no effort on our part.

TOTAL - 7.5kg.

The sugar snap peas (Norli) were poorly supported and turned into a tangled ground hugging mass of knots, but The Boy got a few on-plot snacks out of them. They will be replaced by runner beans this weekend. The potatoes are almost ready to be lifted too and most other things seem to to be doing well. The tomatoes are sporting a few fruits. I get quite disheartened when I look at our little plot, it seems as though large swathes of bed are barren or weedy, waiting for stuff to grow and fill up the space. This year is a learning curve - next year will be better. That's my mantra and I am sticking to it.

Preparing for winter part 1 - gimme shelter

2011-06-28T10:28:00.000+01:00

Yup, you heard right. The nights are drawing in once again and the days are getting shorter... I should have started preparing days ago : )

Which actually, I did. In one of the weird bursts of energy that punctuate these last few weeks of pregnancy, I finally nailed the replacement draught excluder to the bottom of the front door. I only chose this particular unfinished task of many because The Boy had taken to using said draught excluder as a rather expensive and sharp edged toy sword and I thought it better that it was nailed to the door rather than embedded unproductively (and expensively) into something rather softer - say, a cat. As the tool box was out I also filled a substantial hole underneath the door knocker and replaced the internal letterbox flap. So far, so self-satisfied.

Until I took a step back. The front door, now draught sealed, still comprises two panes of single glazing - and sits under a huge window extending from the top of the door to the ceiling. Draughts are the least of my hallway's worries. A glance around the rest of the house shows just how lax we have been about heat conservation the last few years. We have replaced thick-but-ugly-and-too-big curtains with flimsy-but-pretty ones. The cat flap in the back door blows open at the slightest breeze since our bruiser of a cat decided to crash through it when it was locked and break the mechanism two years ago. There are little cracks and crevices around the window frames that really do need to be sealed. The uninsulated kitchen extension has a concrete floor that you could spray with water and skate on in winter. All of the internal doors in the house have massive gaps underneath them or around them. The old fireplaces are not as amply stuffed with newspaper as they could be.

This is not to say we have been profligate with our space heating, our bills are well below average. What it does mean is that we have allowed the heat to dissipate faster than it needed to and made ourselves more uncomfortable than is really necessary. Both OH and The Boy 'run hot' and I grew up in a freezing cold old house with no central heating, draughts everywhere and no running hot water - I have a high tolerance for discomfort in this area. Except of course, I don't actually have to tolerate the discomfort any longer, I am in a position to do something about it - we just always seemed to have other priorities. This year, a combination of reduced income, energy companies making record profits and still raising their prices; and far too much reading about peak oil and economic turbulence; have inspired me to action.

We have had some genuinely uncharacteristic cold snaps (as you can see above - and yes I know that most of you, especially you North Americans, laugh in the face of such a light dusting). Late last year the country was brought to its knees by unseasonably cold weather and snow that persisted in some parts for months. I live on the south coast and in previous years, thanks to the Gulf Stream, have been able to venture to the corner shop on a December evening in a T-shirt without feeling too much discomfort. Besides, I know from experience that when we move to Norfolk, winter weather will be less clement, so I might as well get some practice in with the insulating and conserving.

We are lucky on several fronts- we have double glazing and there is loft insulation in the main part of the house. The carpets are underlaid. We rent, so the changes we can make are fairly superficial. Now is the perfect time to begin, not least because the costs of projects like this tend to increase with the urgency of completing them. A five month head start is good enough to get something done.

So, in the next five months I need to:

Line or replace existing flimsy curtains, or install window quilts throughout the house. This will also help with the light pollution - and would actually be useful now in keeping the house cool during this mini heatwave we are experiencing.
Install curtains or quilts at the front door and window - these must be removable in the day to allow daylight into what is a dingy passageway and living space.
Install a magnet operated cat flap that will stay closed.
Make draught excluders for the front door and for the door leading from the kitchen to the living room.The kitchen, with its lack of insulation and heating, is always going to be a weak link, so cutting it off at night seems like the best option.
Do a feather test and replace missing sealant around the window frames.
Find a hard wearing washable rug for the kitchen floor.
Pack the old fire places tightly with newspaper to stop draughts and convection currents - and try to make peace with the fact that the hollow chimney breasts are funneling heat straight from the walls and out of the house anyway. Sigh.

I think that I need to acquire a sewing machine. I think I should have started two years ago. I think that one day I will learn important lessons about not putting off till tomorrow what you could do today. One day.

Anyway, some useful resources I have stumbled upon in my quest for inspiration:
Preparing for Winter I and Preparing for Winter II forum threads over at Money saving Expert. Very long and chatty, but some good lists of things to do to prepare and lots of resources relevant particularly to the UK.

Draught proofing information from The Energy Saving Trust

Make Window Quilts with these instructions from Many Tracks.

How to make a draught excluder from the Guardian of all places.

The Integral Urban House - worth borrowing from the library, this American 'Appropriate Technology' book explains in simple terms how heat moves and is lost in buildings and some ways to deal with it. Also lots of information about growing food, composting, rainwater harvesting and related self reliance topics.

Simple sewing

2011-06-21T17:05:00.002+01:00

I am no sewer - sewist - seamstress? - what name do you talented people that turn yards of flat fabric into useful objects go by? I have failed many a time when I picked up a needle and thread - catastrophically so if it involved a sewing machine too - and so have not generally bothered, apart from to affix the odd button. You may remember that I gave away most of the vast aspirational stash of notions that I had accrued over the years, when it finally sunk in that I would probably not be picking up needle and thread for a very long time, if ever again.

Well, times are a'changing again. I wrote over at The Co-op of my desire to be a better stitcher. Being able to cut and sew 'waste' fabric together is one frugal and green skill that is worth its weight in gold. I think this might also be a case of pregnancy hormones affecting my brain again - I keep seeing pretty sundresses and hats everywhere and thinking (probably somewhat over-optimistically) 'I could make that...'.

Patchwork has always appealed to me precisely because it was traditionally all about creating useful items from meagre scraps at a time when fabric was expensive and waste wasn't seen as beneficial to the economy. In more recent years it has been turned into an art form - fabric being bought, cut and patched together to to fulfill a preconceived design. The results are usually beautiful, but it is the roots of the craft that appeal to me, rather than the potential for artistic greatness. So as not to ruin my chances of successfully completing something, I am starting out really simply with a stack of old jeans. Really simply:

1) Wash the jeans and cut along the seams so that you have nice flat long swathes of fabric to use - the legs. Iron said swathes.

2) Cut out a square template of the desired size from an empty cereal box and reinforce the edges with sellotape. Be happy that your Other-Half has taken to eating prepacked sugared-cardboard breakfast cereal again instead of nice wholesome-but-minimally-packaged oats.

3) Lay the template on to the fabric, lining up the edge of the square with the grain of the fabric as best as you can, avoiding the worst of the tears, paint and mud stains. Draw around the template using one of your child's (sharpened) colouring pencils in a nice contrasting visible colour.

4) Cut out the square leaving a 5mm seam allowance around the edge.

5) Place two squares, right (unmarked) sides facing each other, and pin together at the corners, ensuring that the pin passes through the marked corner points of both squares to align them. Add a pin in the middle of the line for good luck, again ensuring that it passes through both marked sewing lines. Sew together along the pencil line with a crude running stitch which will improve with each attempt.

6) Repeat with a third square along opposite edge to form strips of patches 3 squares in length.

7) Iron the strips so that the seam allowances lie flat all in the same direction. Stand back and be impressed they are even vaguely straight.

8) Pin the strips together in the same manner as for individual squares, ensuring the corners and marked lines match up. Sew the strips together into blocks and iron once again.

9) Stand back and be disproportionately proud of your slightly lumpy skewiff handiwork.

10) Work out what use you are going to put them to. I am thinking a rugged picnic blanket eventually, perhaps with some embroidered motifs, though I will need a lot more denim than the four pairs of jeans I have gathered. This could be a WIP for several years.

So far I have four blocks and have been too busy to cut any more patches this week. I think I will cut all of the fabric in one go so I have patches on hand in my spare moments. I have realized just how much I like denim - the faded, nubby surface of worn denim is quite beautiful, yet it doesn't appear anywhere in our house bar the wardrobe. It still has years of life left in it, albeit in a new form. The squares actually only take a few minutes to pin and sew each, much much quicker than I was expecting - and even when I made a mistake, each length is so short, it wasn't too much of a chore to unpick and resew. The strips can be stacked up and ironed in batches when the mood strikes. In short, a perfect pick up and put down project, which is good as my crafting time is about to get even shorter and fragmented.

So, what are you all working on at the moment? Feel free to leave a link if you have blogged about it - I enjoy ~~being nosy~~ looking for inspiration : )

Waiting

2011-06-16T22:18:00.000+01:00

I am three weeks from my due date and mental and physical energy really is escaping me now. I have to confess I haven't done much of anything this last week. I have pottered about, I have tried to keep on top of all the things that need to be done - but mostly I have done an awful lot of lazing around. The nesting instinct is still strong and housework is getting done in short bursts of activity. Walking anywhere seems to take three times as long and sap my strength 3 times as fast. Mostly I don't feel much like leaving home, or the sofa for that matter.

I have taken the chance to socialize a little the last few weeks, forcing myself even, when necessary. I regret that in the past I have been reluctant to socialize regularly, partly out of shyness, partly laziness, partly that my house was too messy to have people round - even close friends. A barbecue, a few evenings with friends, a visit to the local community arts cafe today, even dinner out with Nick - a once a year occurrence these days - have all been enjoyed, even if they have left me shattered. New babies don't leave much time, will or energy over for socializing, so we might as well make the most of it whilst we can. I am naturally a bit of a homebody, but once I am out of the house and amongst good company I am as happy as the next person - something I will miss out on perhaps for the rest of the summer.

One of my focuses for the next year will be to become more involved with my local community. I am quite reserved and find it hard to just turn up to things where there are big groups of people, but it would be good for me to involve myself a little more. We have good friends, we know a few of our neighbours, but I can't describe us as being embedded in a community. I am yet to take The Boy to any form of structured toddler group and know very few people with children locally - and as a result have probably made this parenting lark a lot harder for myself than I needed to. Now I want to go out and make connections with people and better late than never.

On Saturday we went to a healthy living picnic event at a local park. Considering my lack of energy I surpassed myself and we took along a bean salad, vegetable sticks, sweet potato wedges with homemade smoked paprika mayonnaise, homemade bread and some fruit and ate a leisurely picnic amongst all the other families, surrounded by trees, healthy living stalls and children tearing about in sack races, making the most of all the sunshine. The Boy had his first go on a bouncy castle; a terrifying ten minutes for me; thankfully he just giggled every time he came close to being flattened by the overly energetic seven year olds sharing it with him.

This week has been a good one, for which I am very grateful.

Well that's annoying

2011-06-12T09:28:00.016+01:00

To put it mildly. I did write and publish a post yesterday, which published as if I had finished it in May (when I first started it). Then it disappeared - completely, not even a saved draft. It was definitely there yesterday. I liked the new Blogger interface, right up until this morning when I realized what it could do in my absence.

I hold out hope that it will reappear, in the meantime I will write something else. Teach me not to back up my posts offline.

That was the fortnight that was

2011-06-03T22:33:00.004+01:00

I am a person that doesn't relish drama. I know lots of people do, many of whom would deny it to the hilt; but drama - emotional, financial or social - really doesn't do it for me. I go out of my way to avoid it. This has been a fortnight full of dramas, hence my absence here - I really didn't realise it had been so long. Good stuff has also been happening, I just haven't had the enthusiasm or energy to report on it what with all the annoying distractions.

The dramas are mostly dealt with and things are looking bright, so hopefully I will back here in a few days with a little more energy and more interesting stuff to report.

Carrots

2011-05-18T16:29:00.000+01:00

As in metaphorical carrots - and sticks. Delicious orange crunchy carrots are also good and we should talk about them someday - but today I want to talk about metaphorical carrots.

Sticks are all well and good. The big stick in our case was a fear that we wouldn't be able to provide for our baby son during what we thought would be hard times, labouring as we were under a pile of debt. As a result we began to budget, live a lot more frugally and organized our finances to pay off the debt as quickly and cheaply as possible. In time it was possible to re frame that initial impetus into something resembling a carrot - living within our means has bought us a much more interesting, productive life in many ways. Home cooked food, brewing, DIY, thrifting, handicrafts, gardening and the knowledge that there is cash left in our accounts come the week before payday all make for a much more satisfying life than one lived on the never-never. The fruits of our labours became goals in themselves. We had made the transition from living frugally out of sheer necessity, to making it an enjoyable way to live.

The initial motivating fear remains and resurfaces every so often - when we have overstretched ourselves, or forgotten a bill payment was due, or know we have to find money for a big purchase. It rises irrationally when we still have money to spare but can't afford to make an overpayment on debt - a completely irrational fear for someone who two years ago didn't even have a budget for debt overpayment, or anything else for that matter. Still, I tend to go a little berserk at these times and start devising ways that we can live on stale bread crusts and sell our remaining possessions to make ends meet, until someone (usually the person having their ear bent at the time) lends me a little perspective on matters.

Since we decided on a vague plan of action for the future that I could feel enthusiastic about - moving to Norfolk - the carrots have multiplied. I have had to rewrite the budget this week having missed out a glaringly obvious expense on the original; and my first reaction was not fear of financial doom, or recourse to my stale crust recipe collection, but sheer annoyance that we would have less money to put aside towards our move in a few years. Then came the fear of doom, but that was fleeting and besides the point. Now that I have a long term goal to work towards, an alternative to just plodding on as I am forever, I have a renewed enthusiasm for all things frugal.

This has been a week of tracking all of our spending down to the last penny. We have baked and eaten bread almost every day with gusto, soaked pulses and dug out half used packets from the back of the cupboard for frugal meals, religiously switched off appliances at the wall and I have earmarked large swathes of my remaining craft stash for various money saving baby projects for The Girl (even going so far as to break out needle and thread once again, which is never my natural inclination). Every little money saving action feels like a gallop in the right direction; and I am making the most of it whilst my energy levels and enthusiasm hold up. At the same time, I have to remind myself not to go to far with the all austerity - the goal is to get to Norfolk in five years and continue to live a good life in a new setting with new activities, not to put off living until we get there.

So, I would be interested to know, what motivates you to live frugally and manage your resources - carrots, sticks or something in between? Do you ever take it too far?

Frugal fun

2011-05-14T17:25:00.000+01:00

I have had a week off from work, which for once coincided with family visiting - which in turn, for once, coincided with another week of fine weather. Usually we end up spending a small fortune when we visit people or they visit us, possibly because we feel like kill joys if we say no. A steady stream of eating out, coffee and cake, small gifts and visiting various attractions that are usually less entertaining than the blurb suggests gradually eats away at our budget and leaves us short for the rest of the month. This was not a month however for overspending our budget and we explained the situation with as positive a spin as we could.

Sometimes (funnily enough, usually always coinciding with time away from my paid employment) I manage to get my act together, make a plan and stick to it. A few hours work resulted in our contribution to a delicious and frugal picnic lunch, all made from scratch (mayonnaise and all, including the first salad pickings from the garden). In a word, I am...smug.

We ate the picnic lunch in the garden of the holiday cottage and then paddled in the sea at a lovely sandy beach in Sussex. We tried to engage toddlers in a sandcastle building project that was blatantly more fun for us adults than it was for them. We went to the woods for a barbeque that didn't get rained off. We have spent a fair amount of time driving around beautiful countryside, just as the hedgerows are in full bloom and the spring babies are out in the fields. We had cream tea in a quaint little tearoom followed by (slightly wistful) window shopping around an equally quaint town.

In short, I have spent more time gadding about in nature than I normally would being city bound - and I realize I need to make an effort to get out more to green leafy places. I have eaten more strawberries and whipped cream in one week than I normally do in a whole year. All very frugal, all very relaxed, all great fun; which is just how I remember my childhood holidays to be.

What frugal fun have you had this week?

It rained

2011-05-10T09:52:00.000+01:00

I feel I can actually take full credit for the heavens opening up. On Friday I decided to felt the jumper and coat I had been debating the fate of for months. Apparently no offering to the rain gods is quite as effective as putting heavy felted wool garments on the line to dry - that night it poured. I should say no offering except of course the smell of charred meat, because the barbecue I was due to attend on Saturday also ended in a washout. An hour before I was due to leave work to go to said shindig, the heavens opened and tropical amounts of rain fell. I aquaplaned in flip flops across the courtyard to the car and we crawled straight back home through standing water.

I am not complaining at all (granted, pulled pork and homemade burgers would have been a lovely end to my working day) - the lack of rain over the last few weeks has been worrisome, a sign of things to come perhaps? The rains will bring relief to those who have been battling wild fires across the country and to those farmers who have had to irrigate early. On a personal note, I have loved lying in bed listening to the thunder and waiting for the odd flash of lightning, knowing that the allotment isn't wilting without my attention. It is interesting that I grew up in one of the driest counties in the country - and am now intending to go back there - and yet a few weeks without rain now makes me distinctly uneasy.

Everything in the garden looks green and perky too. My efforts with a watering can during the dry spell just weren't good enough; and what was really needed was a sustained thorough soaking over a few days. The honeysuckle is finally budding (after three years of waiting), very happy in its new pot against the south facing wall. The salad has rocketed over the last few days and is ready to be picked. The herb bed has really taken off this year too - including the tarragon, which I had assumed had been lost to the snow and ice last winter, that finally poked its head through the soil this week. The water butt has had a chance to recoup its losses from the last few weeks, in preparation for what could be a long hot summer - or a complete washout (this is Britain after all) - but its best to be prepared.

Finishing

2011-05-06T22:58:00.000+01:00

I finally bottled the 3 gallons of rhubarb wine that have been calling out for my attention for the past three months - I am a starter of projects, not necessarily a finisher. Once I had begun, of course, it wasn't so bad. I think it's the washing and sterilizing of the bottles that I usually find so tedious, though I now do them in small batches, standing them upright in a large brewing bucket of sterilizing solution, which makes the job much easier (and uses less water) than when I used to fill the bathtub, desperately trying to remove all of the trapped air bubbles.

After that is done, the sound of wine swooshing through a siphon and swirling into bottles is very soothing, as is the squeaky pop the cork makes as it slides into position (once you overcome the sense of impending doom that quite rightfully accompanies leaning all of your weight onto a fragile glass bottle neck, of course).

The whole process is almost as soothing, in fact, as the sound of wine glugging out of bottles into glasses - but that will be a few months yet. In the meantime 'Rhubarb 2011' no longer needs my attention. What to ferment next?

Where to go, what to do, who to be? A goal

2011-05-04T13:08:00.002+01:00

In so many ways I have reached a level of contentment in my life that I didn't think was possible given the direction I took. Aged 25, still living in the UK, with a 'husband' (for want of a better word - though as yet no contracts have been signed or expensive receptions thrown), a toddler and another child on the way, working part time in a job that really is just a job, on a relatively low income, no prestige, no glory. Not the conditions for contentment - a career, adventure, international travel, lots of money, passionate love affairs (and quite probably eventual infamy, 'cause I am that sort of girl) - I predicted as a teenager. I used to change my mind a lot about where, who and what I wanted to be - which might explain why I have arrived so far from any of my visions, such was the meandering path I took. All in all I have ended up in a good place. I know enough about myself to make where I am a comfortable place to be, whilst at the same time being able to see where things could be made so much better.

This state of contentment has crept up on me over the last year, sometime after I quit the misery inducing navel gazing and stressing about what I should be doing with my life and just got on with actually living it. I started writing this blog to motivate me and to record my progress - which it did - and we got on with the business of decluttering our lives. We have paid off thousands of pounds worth of debt. I have given up a few hobbies that no longer fulfilled me and replaced them with activities that do. Our house is mostly decluttered and vaguely tidy on 3 out of every 7 days. Progress indeed, but the biggest changes were internal - ridding my mind of the chatter that caused me to stumble at every turn was harder work. Even then, giving up giving a crap what other people thought (or even what I thought they thought) was the easy part as it turned out - I can take the most snide criticism these days and still usually enjoy the rest of my day. But letting go of all of the conflicting visions that I have held for myself over the years is a lot harder, which might explain why I had such a seemingly irrational attachment to that desk.

Yesterday we made the decision that our goal for the next five years would be to move to the county of my childhood, Norfolk, and try to build a good life. The details will be thrashed out in the next few years but it is exciting to have a direction to strike out in finally, a new reason to be living the way we do. We have discussed at length over the years where we should go when we are done with Portsmouth - home or abroad, city, town or country - an almost infinite range of exciting possibilities - and the end result of years of deliberation is that I will be returning to my roots.

Norfolk is one of the most beautiful places in the UK, has a great climate and offers us a range of options as to small city/town/village/hovel living, all of which would allow us to lead a wonderful, simple, outdoorsy lifestyle if we design it right. Going home makes a lot of sense, but up until now I wasn't able to admit it. When I left, I had no real thoughts of ever returning, fond as I was of the place. I went away, failed at everything I set out to do and eventually came to make my peace with that. All of the visions that no longer fit have been let go of and returning to my roots doesn't feel so much a failure, but an opportunity to create something new and exciting. Today is a good day.

Letting go and making do

2011-05-02T17:28:00.001+01:00

I have always been a sucker for stationery. My favorite time of year was always September - the start of the new school year, the time of fresh exercise books, brand new pencil sets and tins - in essence, a chance to turn over a new leaf. I have a truly deep attachment to writing papers and implements and objects that aspire to 'organize' stuff - files, labels, highlighter pens and journals. Long after I left university, the obsession with fresh notepads and office notions continued, to the extent that you could probably run Whitehall from my dining room, so well stocked is it for bureaucracy.

I estimate that we have got rid of around one third of our possessions since late last summer, which is when the decluttering began in earnest. We have made a fair number of journeys to car boot sales, the recycling centre, charity shops and friends houses with stuff that we no longer needed. Things that I never thought I would let go of - books, craft equipment, personal mementos - have gone without a pang of regret. Today was the day to purge the 'office' - the scattered corners of the dining room that host the computer, books and stationery. The purge that I thought I would struggle with more than any other.

The first item on the agenda:

I bought this old teacher's desk for a song a few years back and spent two days stripping it of horrible yellowed varnish. I sanded and oiled; and I thought that it would be my forever desk. It fitted perfectly in our flat. I had plans to eventually re-oil or paint it and line the drawers with brightly coloured paper. I had plans that the top of it would always be uncluttered, bar some beautiful items of stationery. I had plans that great things would be written from this desk- university assignments, journal entries, letters, perhaps one day a blog.

Fast forward a year or two and we had moved into a small terraced house. The forever desk has sat awkwardly in a corner of the dining room, at right angles to an alcove it is infuriatingly millimeters too big to fit in to, a tangle of cables trailing across the top and down the sides (and across the dining room for that matter), the drawers barely opening before they hit a wall. The only thing to be written from this desk, apart from this blog, was the occasional bill payment. All of this of course was a recipe for clutter, frustration and down right ugliness, not to mention backache as our dining chairs were too short for the height of the desk.

Enter this much despised oak dining table:

I have hated this table with unswerving passion since the day we inherited it from family, but it was only last year that we felt we could let it go - though luckily it never made it from the garage to the car boot sale. It didn't fit anywhere in any room and wherever it was, it was too tempting a spot for dumping clutter on. Today it came back from the garage to temporarily serve as a desk. Because it sits in another alcove, right next to the Internet connection and plug sockets, there are no wires across the desk or floor. The flap comes out for extra work room and folds back down. Our dining chairs are the right height to use at the desk without crippling us. I love having a desk next to the window instead of a dingy corner. I don't despise this table any more. This table rocks. This table is in fact my new forever desk.

The lack of storage underneath the new desk is not a problem. My new improved stationery store is one third the size it was this morning. I no longer feel the need to keep 3 boxes of paper clips, 2 pads of graph paper, a second hole punch, a tub of drawing pins (we don't even have a noticeboard), a wad of report files, 3 set squares or 3 different 50 packs of envelopes - amongst many other things. I know I don't need these things, because I haven't needed them since the day two years ago they were stuffed into the old desk's unopenable drawers never to be retrieved until today. My new stationery store is a small shelf in a sideboard, cut down to size with a little bit of everything that we might need to run a household, not a government. The worst part of the decluttering is done and it really wasn't so bad.

Running to seed

2011-04-26T19:33:00.002+01:00

Bar a single half hour long 'shower' where the sky acquiesced and misted a few drops of rain down on those gardeners below carefully tending seedlings, the last three weeks have been dry. Dry - and baking hot (for the UK) - and oh so glorious. The weather held even for the bank holiday weekend, traditionally a good enough time as any for the sun to lose its nerve and retreat behind dark heavy clouds not to be seen again until June. It looks like the good weather may well continue through this weekend's festivities too.

The perpetual spinach that has served us through two winters has finally bolted, just in time for the chillies to take its place. I am truly grateful for all this plant has done. It germinated readily here even in November (way too late according to the packet) and it continued to produce servings of green leaves (even when cut right back to its base) whenever I needed something 'green' to go with dinner. The rainbow chard will no doubt be following suit fairly soon, another vegetable that has performed beyond anything I expected. We will definitely be resowing these again this year and in far greater quantities.

The lamb's lettuce that I planted last year receives a less than glowing report. It was slow to germinate, slower to grow - even when it was in full swing, the compact rosettes of small leaves couldn't be described as prolific. I think that I used a handful of leaves in a salad once; and that was that. It too has given up in the sweltering heat; and not before its time. If I can say nothing else good about it, I can say that its profusion of the tiniest white flowers were a delight to find today. But unless we acquire significant acreage any time soon, it probably won't be making an appearance on our seed list again.

Meanwhile everything else is blooming here, even yours truly, who usually wilts in warm weather such as this. Hope you are all enjoying good weather too, whatever that means to you.

A new budget

2011-04-21T13:12:00.000+01:00

Maternity leave is rapidly approaching; July is shaping up to be the last month I will receive my full salary. Our joint income is due to shrink by slightly over one fifth - incidentally, the amount that we have begun to put aside in savings. The aim is to continue to put money aside each month, though I doubt we will be able to afford such a proportion. Depleting our meager savings over a relatively trivial reduction in income is not something I want to contemplate in Austerity Britain 2011, at the very least I want to be living comfortably within our monthly earnings. Needless to say, I have had a few sleepless nights worrying about our finances.

The first step to calming financial jitters is to sit down with a pen and paper and rationally assess the situation. So yesterday we sat down to go over our budget. There are two versions, one for the four paydays up to the end of July; and one for the following nine months when our income will be reduced. Every non-discretionary expenditure is listed - rent, council tax, utilities, contract repayments - and the monthly payments tallied. Where payments are annual (for example our water supply bill) the figure is divided by 12 and highlighted - this is an amount that needs to be put into savings ready to pay the bill when it finally arrives. We have got out of the habit of saving monthly for these one off expenses and have suffered a few uncomfortably lean months as a result of large bills arriving.

The next section of the budget is discretionary spending. Some essentials, such as food, are included here, because there is a great deal of flexibility in how much we can spend. The food section is broken down further - there is the monthly expenditure for fresh goods; and as we plan to return to bulk shopping, a store cupboard fund, which is put aside ready to do a bulk shop every few months. Fuel and transport costs are now part of our discretionary spending - though we will budget for a tank of fuel a month - as neither of us will need to make regular 'essential' journeys once I have finished work. Many of the items on the lists will take the form of monthly savings set aside to be dipped into as needed throughout the year - payments to a holiday/fun fund, gifts, clothing, household and gardening expenses.

We will keep a copy of the budget on the wall above the computer. Last time I got creative with colouring pens and star stickers - anything to make sobering financial restrictions more appealing to look at. It makes a big difference to keep the budget prominent, as opposed to tucked away in a notebook, as it is the cornerstone of financial (and therefore household) well being. Last time we placed our debt repayment tally next to it - ticking off payments as we made them was very satisfying; and we could directly relate that to the effectiveness of our budget. Anything that motivates you to keep to your budget, whether that be a picture of your one-day desert island retreat, or a decreasing mortgage balance sheet, will have the same effect.

Now the budget is in place, we have to decide how to organize the practicalities of it. We plan to set up standing orders to our savings accounts for both our long term savings and irregular expenses, to go out at the beginning of the month. We will continue to use direct debits for our regular monthly payments. For all day to day expenditure except fuel, we will use an envelope/jar system and pay cash (if I am feeling particularly virtuous, or time rich, I will make some hard wearing, beautiful pouches such as these ones over at the Co-op). The bulk shop, which is usually done online, will be paid via debit card, as will fuel. Any small change left over from the envelopes will be put into our change jar and eventually paid into our savings accounts.

Just having written it all down has calmed my jitters and made me realize we are not screwed, as I had previously thought. Any tips would be very much appreciated by the way, especially if anyone has experience using the envelope system. It all sounds so simple on paper, but no doubt there will be a few false starts over the next few months. A plan, combined with a continuing quest to trim down budgeted for expenses in any way possible, makes us a little more resilient to whatever life, or a new baby human, can throw our way.

Lazy crochet day

2011-04-16T22:29:00.001+01:00

Today I woke up with absolutely no get up and go. I completed a handful of chores, but mostly I lazed around, a lot. I had a days leave booked, which I normally spend doing the same old household stuff that I do most days, so I didn't feel particularly guilty this afternoon about lazing in bed with my newest crochet project, a bag. I fell asleep after an hour, but progress is progress. That is indeed a pile of laundry you can see waiting patiently at the end of the bed for my attention. It's still waiting now.

The pattern is loosely based upon a pattern in Susie John's Crochet for Beginners, but I have changed the yarn, dimensions, added a buttoned flap so that it can be closed; and will also probably add a lining. I am no embroiderer, so the embellishment will be different too. So far I love it. It's worked in Tunisian simple stitch on a Tunisian hook (a 35cm long crochet hook with a stopper at the end); working back and forth without turning the work. On every other row, you end up with a whole hook full of stitches, which you then work off the needle, before picking them up again on the next row.

The only complaint I have about regular crochet is that the fabrics produced tends to veer towards lacy and open, or dense and heavy, seemingly with no happy medium. This technique seems to change all of that. It has often been described as 'like knitting, but with a hook', which I naturally resent as someone with knit related trauma issues - this is very much a crochet technique. I will however get down from my precariously high amigurumi horse to recommend this technique to knitters that struggle with the 'loopiness' of crochet - and obviously to crocheters who want to learn a new skill. The fabric is drapier than double crochet, but not in the least lacy or 'holey' - although their are hundreds of stitches to learn including some open work and mesh.

Last year I promised myself I would not buy any more craft materials until I had worked through my stash. My excuse is that the recipient of this bag wanted a purple bag; and I didn't have any purple. Still, it does mean I have found a new natural fibre yarn - King Cole Bamboo Cotton - for when I do need to restock. This comes in very economical 230m balls, excellent value for a bamboo based yarn. It is soft with a lovely sheen, though it is loosely plied and liable to split if you aren't paying attention. I also had to buy the needles - I bought a set from Purple Linda Crafts (no affiliation, this just happens to be one of the only shops on the web to concentrate primarily on crochet - hence it is one of the only places you can buy Tunisian hooks for a reasonable price - and in shiny brightly coloured metallics no less).

If you want to have a go, I used the instructions in Jan Eaton's Encyclopedia of Crochet Techniques, a well explained and illustrated reference book to have in your library. There is a good clear video on Youtube, but unfortunately a Google search seems to throw up a minefield of confusing or poorly illustrated written instructions. If you do want to have a go, a normal round crochet hook (a size larger than you would normally use for your yarn) with a ball of Blu-Tack stuck on the end will allow you to practice a short width (about 8-10 stitches) before you decide to splash any cash on hooks.

Two posts in two days, internet connection and brain holding up well. I should take siestas more often.

Destructive, in a good way

2011-04-15T18:47:00.000+01:00

No sooner do I get back from holiday with good intentions to use my Internet connection more mindfully (and to blog more regularly, as pregnancy brain fog is now lifting and I am actually doing things that I can write about once again), than said Internet connection is plagued by connectivity problems. I can't access Blogger, email or Google Reader reliably without it timing out; and so for the last week haven't been reading or responding to comments, emails or blog posts. This afternoon the connection seems to be holding, so here goes...

I have accomplished quite a lot this week, probably because of the lack of Internet connection. The house is a mess, because most of my time has been spent outside in the glorious sunshine, trying to find any excuse to stay out there. It has been so warm and sunny, my pasty complexion suffered its first annual flush of sunburn.

A pallet was dumped behind bushes at the end of our street a few years ago, but I never had anything to use it for and so left it, expecting someone else to make use of it. Nobody ever did; and this week it finally became mine for some therapeutically destructive crowbar therapy. It was hard work even for two of us, with a little wastage due to splitting, but after some very satisfying prising, sawing and nailing we now have some fetching wooden edging panels to stop the couch grass paths that separate us us from our neighbours from encroaching into our beds. Another two pallets have since fallen into my lap, each one being sufficient to edge one side of our plot; and I see a crowbar in their future.

I made a final push in the yard to get it ready for summer. I waged war on next doors privet hedge and collected 5 refuse sacks of clippings and loppings. I made the mistake of doing the green thing and letting the hedge flower last year, because the bees and insects love it. Unfortunately that just made it leggy and invasive on our side (the sunny side); and so I have taken it back right to the boundary where it won't drown out our pots, seating area and laundry line. I plan to plant lots of insect attracting flowers and herbs to make up for my destruction (which I am ashamed to admit was quite soothing - I hate that hedge). Unfortunately I can't make up for the local soil fertility that is going to be permanently lost when the clippings are sent to the local tip for composting. Using petrol (a precious resource these days) to transport another precious resource away is absolutely bonkers.

I also finally pulled back some stone slabs that have been stacked against a wall in our garden since we moved in- to reveal a mollusc's holiday camp. I put The Boy (who is too young to have developed any hint of squeamishness about such things yet) to useful work and he collected 40 or so of the blighters in a flowerpot - which he then proudly offered me as though it were a flower posy. Yuck. I did my own bit of temporary fly tipping and dumped this under the bushes at the end of the street, where they will either thrive in the undergrowth, or more probably have their numbers drastically reduced by the birds. The slabs are now up at the allotment, edging the long side of one of the beds. Slowly but surely it's all coming together.

Laundry weather

2011-04-06T21:17:00.000+01:00

Today has been the sunniest, warmest day of the year so far. The patio was positively baking - perfect weather for hanging out the laundry, especially as there was a slight breeze blowing. Not the kind of day that I wanted to spend hanging around the house loading and unloading the washing machine.

Most of the western world is accustomed to being able to access (relatively cheap) concentrated forms of energy at the flick of a switch. Whilst line-drying is 'normal' in the UK, most of us never really have to arrange our lives around the intermittent availablity of energy or the passage of day or night. We can choose to do all of our work at night thanks to 24 hour electric lighting, we can dry our laundry whenever we want thanks to radiators and tumble dryers. Hot water increasingly comes from on-demand boilers. Any physical commodity we need can be produced far away and transported to us quickly over long distances with little effort on our part. I can't see this happy state of affairs continuing for much longer. Certainly in the short term I think we will see energy shortfalls that will force us to rearrange our lives around an intermittent energy supply and resource constraints. We will have to consider what use we want to put the energy and resources we do have to - and we will start to look at 'ambient' energy - the warmth of the sun, daylight hours - as an actual resource to work with.

As it turned out, I managed to get two full loads of laundry washed and dried. It smells lush - that faintly burnt but fresh scent that cotton sheets take on when they have been hanging out in the sun. It also gave me the opportunity to use the peg bag I have been crocheting for the past few evenings out of the ends of last years balls of dishcloth cotton. Every year I seem to buy new pegs as the old ones gradually go astray or I leave them on the line to get mildewy, rusty or brittle. Last week I bought some new wooden ones and vowed they would see me through more than one year of laundry hanging. Their new home is a little garish, but sturdy. I saved money, enjoyed some quiet crochet (and ensuing sense of accomplishment - small things, I know) - and, I hope, saved my pegs to see another summer.

Back - to the land

2011-04-01T23:08:00.000+01:00

You may have noticed that I have been away from this space for a few weeks. I have been making the most of all the annual leave I have to use up before I go on maternity leave, visiting family in Derbyshire. A lovely week, with the best weather we have ever had (at any time of the year) visiting a much cooler and rainier part of the country - lots of sunshine and no rain for a whole week. No snow either, which means I will have to lay to rest my long running comedy bit about bringing crampons and down jackets every time we visit (in my defence, it did once snow in June - meanwhile Portsmouth was basking in a heat wave).

I had a few sleepless nights whilst away, not for the cats or the guinea pigs we had left behind (who I knew would be amply cared for), but for our allotment, which has been left to fend for itself; and my dining room window sill, where I suspected the tomato plants I potted up before I went away were not going to survive my absence. Thankfully my neighbour had it all under control and we arrived home to find the tomatoes, chillies and loofahs doing beautifully. The allotment had also exploded into life in our absence - and as we haven't actually planted much up there so far, this was life of the overgrown weed kind. The quarter of the site that is yet to be cleared or mulched boasts admirable yields of chickweed (flowering and starting to set seed) and foot high nettles and dock. The grass paths (which haven't yet been edged due to the dearth of scavengable wood) are spilling onto the newly dug, mostly bare beds. Some of the cardboard mulch has become untethered by the elements and is ripping up, allowing some of the perennials we missed to poke through.

For the last few days we have spent a good few hours addressing these issues. Firstly, we got a few more things into the ground. We have two gooseberry bushes 'Invicta' and one crown each of rhubarb 'Stockbridge Arrow' and 'Champagne'. Preparing the patches of earth for these made me feel infinitely better about our predicament. I spent much of today enthusiastically tearing up clumps of chickweed and piling it into the compost bin, whilst Nick dug over a patch of ground and laid the patio slab shed base; and the boy looked on incredulously as his dad jumped up and down on paving slabs to level them.

We wanted to spend as little money on 'furnishing' our allotment as possible; and wanted to rescue as many materials from the waste stream as we could. Unfortunately there isn't much house renovation going in these parts at the moment; and materials have been scarce. Today I got creative with the materials I had to hand and began edging one of the eight beds. Firstly I used half width paving slabs that we inherited from the previous occupants of our house to edge down one length of the bed, sinking them just below the surface to separate the bed from the (weedy, you will notice) path. Once those had run out I started sinking upturned wine bottles in. They were trickier to place than the slabs, requiring a trench to be dug and back filled very gently from both sides, whilst the bottles were held wedged up firmly against one another. The end result will be quite pretty once the labels have weathered off. Now I am asking everyone who will listen to save their empties for me. Thankfully for me the recession hasn't hit home wine consumption in the way it has home renovations.

The hardest part of establishing our allotment has been going with the flow - essentially bobbing along at a very gentle pace. I had wanted everything up and running after our first month. But the resources didn't flow as fast as we anticipated - neither the cash to buy the big items we needed; nor the scrap wooden planks, mulch materials and paving slabs I had expected to procure easily and cheaply. This has been a blessing, in retrospect. It probably isn't good for a pregnant woman to throw her back out speed digging an allotment in the depths of winter. It is probably best also that we had the time to observe what was going on and how we could make best use of our plot before we rushed in and dug like demons. Gardening is a slow art, especially in the depths of winter; and I don't think I would want it any other way.

My perfect dishcloth

2011-03-10T20:18:00.003Z

I think I have found it. I spent a few months back last year experimenting with a crochet hook and knitting needles and some spare DK cotton that I had lying around. I never chanced upon a pattern that I particularly preferred, but the texture and ease of crochet definitely won over the slower growing, smoother, knitted ones. I also learnt that I favour a square cloth, not rectangular, and no more than about 8 inches wide. Finicky I know, but conditions have to be just perfect if I am even going to contemplate washing up, sigh. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end of my love affair with two pointy sticks?

Most of last year's experiments are looking a little worse for wear, but considering the abuse they have been subjected to, they are doing remarkably well. Still, many are too large or small; and I want to introduce a little colour to the kitchen sink. Last week I opened my stash, took out a ball of 4-ply cotton and began to experiment again. The stitch pattern I settled on this time is called 'spider stitch' according to part 13 of the Art of Crochet, though I remain sceptical, because to me spider stitch has always meant a filet lace background with a large spider like window motif in the centre. Whatever its actual name, worked in 4-ply on a 4mm hook it gives a nice open fabric (quick to dry) that still has some texture too it. The edges are tidy and firm, straight at the top and bottom and slightly scalloped at the edges, which means it doesn't require edging.

So, now for my own (current) favourite 7 inch(ish) dishcloth:

*Nb - these instructions are written using UK crochet terms*

Using 4-ply cotton and a 4mm hook, chain 36 stitches (or any multiple of 2 to achieve preferred size - if you must mess with perfection : ) )

Foundation row: 1 dc, 1 ch, 1 dc into 3rd chain from hook. *Miss one Ch sp, (1 dc, 1ch, 1dc) into next chain, repeat from * to last ch, 1 dc, turn.

Next and all subsequent rows: Ch 2, *(1 dc, 1ch, 1dc) into next ch sp, repeat from * across row to turning chain, 1 dc into back loop only of turning chain.

Continue until cloth can be folded exactly in half, corner to corner - this should give you a square dishcloth.

I am going to try the same stitch pattern out in DK to see if the results are the same, but at the moment 4 ply seems to be a winner. The texture is very soft, worked in a bamboo or soya cotton mix yarn it would make luxurious face cloths. Nice, quick gifts to work up and keep around just in case. Bring on pay day, I want some nice bright colours to experiment with.

May you live in interesting times

2011-03-03T20:49:00.001Z

The title of this post cropped up in conversation this week. It was used in jest and so unfortunately I didn't get to utter any counter curses, but it did get me thinking.

In 2006/7 I began to read about peak oil and the economic unravelling that would ensue. I had assumed that it was a decade away and that there was plenty of time to prepare on a personal level. In January 2008, we found ourselves expecting our first child. By that summer, the world experienced its first oil shock in over 20 years. Food riots broke out across the world. By the autumn of the same year, economic instability turned to full blown collapse, bailouts and sovereign debts; and grandad was reading his newborn grandson bedtime stories from the financial pages of bank collapses and share price falls. Then for a year or so, at least in the UK, everything went rather quiet. House prices rose once again, unemployment rose conservatively considering the scale of the financial bubble that had burst, inflation wasn't taking hold and the oil price had collapsed. I had thought at the time that this was 'the big one' and was amazed that everything turned back to to normal so quickly.

On reflection, having discussed the state of the universe at some length with armchair philosopher types over pints of home brew, we realised that something was going to give. The only question was what and when?

Today I find myself 22 weeks pregnant with a daughter conceived just as the sleeping dragon began to limber up once again last autumn. Once again I am pregnant at a time of immense turbulence. By July, when our daughter arrives, I imagine that things will be coming to a head if they haven't already. In the last few months, food prices have once again risen to record highs. The entire Middle East is undergoing a revolution that was inconceivable to most a year or so ago. Oil prices appear to be heading for a spike once again. Major natural disasters have devastated communities and agricultural regions across the world at a time when the financial resources to deal with them are becoming more scarce.

The world looks an infinitely more interesting place in 2011; and for the last few months I have wavered between exuberant hope and extreme anxiety for what the future holds. My children will probably not grow up in the relatively stress free world that I have, where we just assumed that we would find ever shinier, newer, energy intensive solutions to solve all of our environmental and social problems. In all likelihood, it isn't going to happen; and on many levels that is terrifying. On the other hand, as in all crises (right up to the final terminal one) their lies opportunity. Some things will fade away, losses will be suffered - and then new things will replace them. I don't believe that a huge, terminal apocalypse is on its way; which means that there must be wiggle room to create something...interesting. Interesting in a good way, not in a fake Chinese curse way.

A few days away from the Internet focusing on everyday things has done me the world of good. Preparation is a good preventative measure against despair real or imagined. Today I knuckled down to seed sowing and allotment planning (more of which another day), laundry and tidying, all whilst drinking in the sunshine. The nesting instinct is strong this time around and with a tidier (though still not tidy) house apparently comes a tidier happier mind. Best to get all the hard work out of the way now, before I become too fat and heavy and grumpy to move further than between the sofa and the biscuit tin, I think.

Incidentally, a quick heads up. If in future years you see me sporting another baby bump (although highly unlikely) - pay attention - with my track record on timing, it's probably time to run for the hills, or at least duck and cover for a while.

Somethings sprung

2011-02-26T17:58:00.000Z

The last few weeks, compared with the Februarys of recent years, have been positively balmy. The extra warmth means that things are happening out in the garden:

A few loads of laundry have even made it out onto the whirligig to dry in the breeze and sunshine. Windows have been opened to let in some fresh air. In turn, I am in spring cleaning mood; and for once I seem to actually have the wherewithal to get on and do it. Carpets and furnishings are being cleaned, woodwork is being dusted, and tiles are being scrubbed. All of which is so absorbing for once, I haven't had the time or energy to do much else.

All of this is cheering. I think that I have found this last winter the most depressing in memory, for reasons that I can't quite put my finger on. I grew up in a part of the country that looked utterly beautiful through more severe winters and (very slightly) shorter days than this city ever experiences. Portsmouth doesn't have the ability to transmute stark winter skies, bare earth and bone chilling cold into anything I find particularly inspiring. The few days of snow that turned this part of town into a snowy village scene turned just as quickly to a month of slush and road grit.

This dissatisfaction is partly my own fault of course - winter doesn't have to be so depressing, even in a city. I think that I have massively underestimated the importance of colour and beauty in my life in recent years. A puritanical streak has been given free rein, which has resulted in a life of utilitarian objects, dark colours and not enough walks in the more picturesque parts of my locality. This year one of my projects will be to reverse all that and introduce a little more colour into our days, that next winter might be a little less galling.

For now the sun is shining, the days are lengthening and life is good.

Ode to the black stuff

2011-02-07T21:30:00.000Z

This week my decluttering attentions turned to the back yard. It is a job I have been dreading. Firstly it means lugging heavy pots and heaps of stuff around and secondly, in February, it means lugging wet and cold heavy pots and heaps around, usually across slippery patio stones in dank weather. Last year the yard was an experimental jungle, with far too many pots, plants and other projects crammed into a tiny space, most of which are still waiting to be cleared up. This year most of those experiments will move up to the allotment; and the yard will be transformed into an oasis of calm and morning sunshine. There will still be greenery - salads, fruit bushes and herbs - and an absolute riot of flowers and colour and perfumes and butterflies and all pretty things.

Okay, I am probably getting a little ahead of myself again, but what is a life without vision : ) ? Truth be told, the summer of 2011 will be declared a success if drying laundry doesn't have to compete with a forest of tomatoes or next door's privet hedge; I get one Dahlia to flower; and if there is just a tiny bit of room to sit and soak it all up for a few minutes in the sunshine. The fruit bushes and salads and riots can come a little later.

One of the projects that is moving up to the allotment is the compost bin. I started the bin three years ago when we first moved in. It was an virtuous move, recycling an old dustbin to in turn recycle some of our household waste on site. The bin was small and filled very quickly. Since then it has sat waiting for the fauna to do their thing, whilst most of our household green waste made its way to landfill. As the allotment is where we need most of our organic matter from now on, this small bin is on its way out. So I set out to bag up the contents of the bin for easy transport to the allotment.

On removing the bin from the pile, I was delighted to be confronted with this:

A dark black friable heap of earthy-smelling beauty. No bag of garden centre bought compost will ever compare. This is the first time in my poor sheltered life I have seen homemade compost; which is probably why I am positively rhapsodic about it now; but I am truly in awe of the processes that took a heap of dying waste matter and turned it into a substance from which new life will spring. Instead of moving it up to the allotment as planned, I skimmed off the top uncomposted layer and spread the lush dark stuff around the large containers and bed that were intensively cropped last year. If I can't grow big showy Dahlias in this, summer 2011 will indeed have been a failure.

Not binning it

2011-02-02T17:34:00.000Z

My decluttering over recent weeks has turned my attention not only to how much 'stuff' we store permanently in our home, but also to the transient stuff - packaging, junk mail, food waste, personal care items, that sort of thing. Obvious sound ecological reasons aside, there are some pressing personal reasons for wanting to cut down our waste tally. Firstly, I live in a small house with a small yard; and I can think of better things to do with that space than fill it with rubbish and recycling receptacles. So why we insist on producing two or three black refuse sacks and 2 boxes worth of recycling every week is any one's guess - although I would place good money on laziness and inertia as being the main culprits.

A large proportion of the waste we produce is kitchen waste in the form of vegetable scraps, egg shells, egg boxes and teabags, around 1/2 a refuse sack per week. The other half of that sack comprises bedding, wood shavings and guinea pig poo (which just happens to be an excellent compost activator or even direct manure) from our two guinea pigs. Our new compost bin is now installed on our allotment and is already eating prodigious quantities of kitchen and hutch waste.

So, now for the rest of our bin. Our biggest guilty secret is our sons disposable nappies - we gave up on terry cloths after he turned a year old. I had plans to get him completely potty trained early, but he wasn't buying it; and now 14 months on he uses an average of 2 pairs of pull up pants a day. That amounts to about half a refuse sack per week. Which means that the rest of our bin consists of plastic food packaging; and I suspect quite a few recyclables that neither of us can be bothered to fit into/balance on top of the overflowing recycling box. Part of the reason the box overflows is Nick's absolute refusal to crush tins and bottles down to size, despite weekly promises to begin doing so. The contents of our overflowing recycling box consists of plastic milk cartons, tomato and cat food tins, paper and card.

The ultimate solution of course is to redesign our lives to consume less, full stop. In the UK, there has been quite a lot of complaining about 'waste rationing', with local councils moving to fortnightly collections or even contemplating the introduction of charging schemes. I can see that this would be a concern for many, but most of that concern once again comes from the inconvenience of having to stop and examine your habits - and possibly find them to be improvable - which very few people relish. I feel a twinge of guilt when I put our rubbish out and look at our elderly neighbours half-full recycling box, with a small carrier bag of rubbish perched on top; and I know that I could do better.

By the beginning of March I want to have scaled our waste tally down to an average of 1 refuse sack and 1 (contained!) recycling box per week. This is a workable goal, but requires some life redesign and new habits. We have to start carrying reusable shopping bags without a second thought, a habit we have gradually fallen out of. We need to stop buying over packaged snacks and sweet things on a whim and instaed need to start a regular baking schedule. We need to take lunch to work every day, because the waste we dispose of away from home counts as ours too. We need to investigate reusable pull up pants, which is what we should have done all those months ago. We need to put up another 'no junk mail sign' on our door, something we should have done the moment the first one began to fade.

We need to stop buying so much stuff.

A case in point

2011-01-24T17:38:00.000Z

Things are going well on the decluttering front. For some unknown reason ruthlessness is coming naturally at the moment, so I might as well channel it into something productive and soothing! My basic criteria for keeping things are that I use it at least once a year; and that it enriches my life with its beauty or utility. It is amazing how many things I have been holding on to that fulfill neither of these criteria.

A case in point is my sewing tin. I have always had a good life mentality, wanting to create for myself as many of the things that I need to live - which is a good thing that leads to rich and interesting experiences. Some experiments are destined never to get of the ground however. One such pie in the sky aspiration is that I would one day learn to use a sewing machine and make beautiful garments and furnishings. One day it might happen, but certainly not in the next few years. So the cupboard of scrap fabric, sewing paraphernalia and embellishments which have sat gathering dust for several years (when other people could have been making good use of them) are now packed and ready to go to the charity shop. Previously my large sewing tin was stuffed with tens of different colours of thread, fastenings, buttons, beads and other pretty, sparkly trinkets. This is just some of them:

All very pretty, and all unused. So now for my new sewing box, a quarter of the size of the old one:

Much less sparkly, but also only containing items that have actually been used regularly. Any sewing I do is usually repairs or hand sewn small projects; and this kit, plus scissors and a tape measure, is perfect for those tasks.

I have found that decluttering areas on a whim is making the job a lot easier than when I try to work methodically, which is usual decluttering advice. The sewing box just happened to catch my eye, so I spent a few minutes working on that; and it was satisfying to have achieved something in such a short space of time. A similar 'grazing' attitude has yielded 2 carrier bags full of old paperwork, 4 carriers of clothing, a box of kitchen items and bric-a-brac; and a black sackful of broken goods, packaging and (way) out of date pantry goods; and I haven't run out of steam yet.

Tiny living?

2011-01-21T17:19:00.002Z

Thanks to this post by Paula at Weeding for Godot, I have been thinking once again about the 'tiny house' movement and the downshifting that goes with it. It's an idea that has cropped up in my thoughts every few months since I first stumbled upon it.

A company selling prefabricated tiny houses in the USA builds dwellings ranging from 65 square feet (tiny) to around 900 square feet (small), or 84 square metres. Interestingly, according to this article, 84 metre square is 8 square metres bigger than the average size of a new build home in the UK. I have seen a few new builds in the last few years and can say they do not compare to bespoke tiny home plans; not only has the build quality in some of them been terrible, on the whole they show no sign of integrated design, despite (or possibly thanks to) rigorous building code regulations. Unfortunately they often exhibit a tendency to ugliness and uniformity wherever you go in the country.

If I were single with no children I know that I could live a good life in around 200 square feet (something that I could not have said a few years ago as I carried around all my clutter). It wouldn't actually need to be a house - a yurt of even a houseboat also appeal, although I would want access to a garden. I would love to cut my possessions down to a handful of essentials. In reality, I have a partner and a toddler who would not be so keen, although we have discussed yurts and houseboats, going so far as to build a small yurt with some friends a few years ago to 'get a feel for it'. We gave up on the yurt idea when we realised that you need planning permission to erect what is essentially a tent on your own plot of land; and planning permission is hard to come by for even a traditional dwelling. Still the aesthetics and simplicity of small handmade homes appeal to me and I am yet again wistful for a downsized life.

We have downshifted our possessions substantially over the last few years, but still seem to be surrounded by clutter. So once again I am on a mission to free myself from excess; and to live as 'small' as possible in our current home, which certainly isn't big by UK standards. I know that we both have a wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit. The kitchen, even after my last pare down attempt, still needs a rethink. Gus has far too many toys, and increasingly they are of the small, multipart scatterable variety. We are still making do with storage that takes up a lot of floorspace, when what we have in abundance is bare wall space.

We seem to have far too high expectations of what homes and possessions are capable of; and we want to be prepared for every eventuality - many people want formal dining tables that could host a dinner party for twelve should it ever come to it, when they have never cooked for four and tend to eat TV dinners (nothing wrong with that). Newer homes in this country increasingly come with aspirational walk in closets attached to the master bedrooms - to store mountains of cheap import worn-once clothing whilst 10% of it actually gets worn on a day to day basis.

I have been guilty of over extending my expectations in the past; and have bought needless furniture, crockery, clothing and craft materials that I am never going to realistically use. I still have much to cut out, declutter and streamline as a result of that. This means not only more of my time wasted (after the time I wasted working to earn the money to buy and store the things), but also that I get to enjoy the stomach churning knowledge that I am a numb skull that always accompanies my realising just how much time and money I have wasted on stuff I have never used. Still, with all the sunshine we have had recently I am full of energy, so this will be a week of decluttering, sorting and trying to make our home a little more tiny; with no doubt a little self flagellation along the way.

1st morning at the allotment

2011-01-10T23:46:00.000Z

On Saturday we finally got to our plot, which was as good a January day as any to begin. The site is huge and exposed; and most of the plots have obviously been ravaged by the frost, snow and rain of the last month. Our plot is thick with bits of degraded plastic, rusting metal, discarded contraceptives and low growing weeds, though luckily only a few perennials have taken root.

Now we have seen the plot, I realise we are lucky to have taken over the lease at a quiet time of year. The plot boundaries need to be marked and paths cut. The ground needs to be cleared and bed and pot positions decided upon (and a debate is still raging about whether we need beds or not). We need to buy and erect a small shed. The compost bin needs to be installed ASAP. Seeds need to be started indoors (the bit I am most looking forward to after all these months of dormancy). In short, a lot of hard work.

So we began to double dig; and getting nowhere particularly fast, changed tack. Now we plan to double dig only half of the plot. On this we will direct-sow root vegetables and legumes and add a few transplanted vegetables. The other half of the plot will be hoed and any perennial roots dug out, then a layer of compost spread on the top followed by overlapping layers of cardboard (liberated from the skips where I work). Through this mulch we plan to grow potatoes, oca (a South American root vegetable resembling a small waxy lemony potato) and transplanted module grown plants like squashes and beans. The mulch will be built up as required.

This will leave us in a year or so with a weed free productive allotment (here's hoping, anyway) and I am interested to see how the dig/no-dig approach pays off in future years. There are advantages and disadvantages to both methods, but mulch is winning out at the moment on the grounds that I am unlikely to do myself an injury. Although, I am a klutz - so watch this space for mulch related A&E visits.

So does anyone have any thoughts on no-dig gardening? Should we build raised beds? Is there anything else we should be considering as we start out?

Just a note

2011-01-01T23:51:00.000Z

Just a note to say my latest post is up over at The Simple Green Frugal Co-op.

New year, new projects

2011-01-01T17:16:00.000Z

Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas/Solstice/holiday season. Here's to 2011!

I am not a great one for resolutions. I realised early on that I tend to set such worthy but dull and joyless goals to achieve over the coming months; I actually do myself a great service when I neglect them half way through January. Besides, all the regular green and frugal goals just roll over from the previous year anyway - pay off debts, use less energy, eat healthier seasonal food. So this year, instead, I have a few experiments to run with.

For all the wonderful presents Santa brought this year, he was outdone before he even took to the skies by a nice lady from the city council. On Christmas Eve a hefty letter thudded through our letterbox, offering us an allotment! We have been on the list for 3 and a half years and I almost cried tears of joy when I read through the contract and rules and regulations (never before have I been so happy to wade through so much bureaucracy). As demand is so high and land so scarce here, our plot is 1/3 the size of a traditional plot, but 75m² is still a sizable space to work with in conjunction with the space on our patio. So my big project for 2011 is to experiment with growing stuff. Specifically, I want to grow as much edible, delicious produce as possible for as little work, inputs and money as possible. I have a hunch that this will take much longer than one year, but I have dusted of my permaculture and gardening manuals and begun my masterplan.

This feeds nicely into my other main project for the year, one that will probably involve lots of little experiments. 4 years of a relatively mindless data entry job, combined with parenting related lack of sleep has unfortunately whittled away what was previously an insatiable curiosity to a mindless consumer of media and current affairs information. The rot needs to stop before I am completely Zombiefied, so this will be a year of reading weighty books, asking deeper questions and thinking deeply about things, along with lots of practical experiments along the way. It will also be a year of checking the national and international news just once a week as opposed to several times a day and perhaps also the occassional Internet fast. So experiment 2 can be summed up thus - an experiment to eradicate boredom from my life.

Both of these projects, alongside all of the ongoing goals that roll over year on year are more than enough to keep me occupied for 12 months. I have no idea where the second one will be taking me yet, but it has to be somewhere interesting. There is a third experiment in the offing - but you will have to wait a few weeks for that one...

What do you have planned for 2011?

Crochet 1 - Knitting 0

2010-12-18T13:13:00.000Z

I have been away visiting family for the past week; and actually wrote this before I left, but never had the chance to post it.

There will come a time in any journey towards self reliance and simpler living that you may be tempted to make for yourself items that you need in your everyday life. I chose to focus on yarn crafts, as the start-up equipment is minimal and they do not require a dedicated space (apart from a little storage). You can produce blankets, hats, socks, dishcloths, jumpers, slippers, rugs and a host of other useful, comforting objects from nothing more than some variation of a stick and a ball of yarn.

I finally mastered crochet, after a decade of failure, at the age of 17, as an alternative to all that German verb revision I should have been doing. I was hooked, if you will pardon the pun. Crochet grows so much quicker than knitting; and as I was more of a blankets and scarfs than garments kind of crafter, it suited me to the ground. I began knitting in earnest when I was pregnant and wanting to make garments for my son; and stylish good crochet garment patterns were few and far between. That is now changing gradually and there are many good crochet designers making their mark.

This year I have failed to complete any of the knitted objects I have begun. That jumper that should have been finished in November? The arms might now get finished (or should I say started?) for next November. I am slow; and I am terrible at following pattern rows, especially ones that are charted as seems to be the case more often that not these days. In short I am no longer a happy knitter. So this week I returned to a chunky mesh crochet afghan I have been hooking on and off for over a year. It had been cast aside as I struggled with casting on and frogging various knitting projects. Its not overly fancy, made with self patterning acrylic. But the colours are glorious and to actually finish something with an hours work was soothing to my crafting soul. I was so enthused that I finally whipped up a winter hat (the snow wasn't much fun last week without one) using a spare ball that same evening, making it up as I went along.

If time is an issue for you, or you are just highly impatient like me, I recommend crochet. It is often seen as a poor relation to knitting, but beautiful functional objects can be made, albeit with a different look to knitting. Ravelry, Interweave, and Attic24 offer inspiration, patterns and some good tutorials. If you want to learn, a quick search of YouTube gives a wealth of video demonstrations. The best way is usually to find a patient teacher, but books and videos can be very useful.

I plan to focus more on crochet projects next year; which should make room for other crafts. I really want to develop my spinning which I reluctantly put on the back burner to concentrate on the jumper. I would like to learn some brand new skills too, perhaps a little sewing; and also give rug making another bash. This week I tried my hand at dough craft decorations for the tree, to accompany some of the tree doilies I have been crocheting during my 3 day crochet fest. Christmas is now shaping up to be merry and bright, without a missed pattern row or slipped stitch in sight.

(Belated) announcement

2010-12-05T23:25:00.000Z

I have been invited to contribute to Simple, Green, Frugal Co-op. I wrote my first post yesterday; then realised I hadn't so much as mentioned it here. Apologies.

If you haven't visited the Co-op before, please do. There is a wealth of infomation on
frugal, sustainable living from bloggers with a range of backgrounds and lifestyle. I have found it a wonderful resource in the past; and hope that I can contribute something meaningful too.

Preparing for christmas.

2010-11-28T22:16:00.000Z

A rare trip to the supermarket last week caused me to adopt my seasonal bah humbug attitude a few weeks earlier than normal. Meandering down the aisle of pretty christmas lights and baubles and garlands (glittery twinkly shiny stuff in the depths of an otherwise grey winter is one aspect of the holiday season that I can get on board with), thinking that it would keep Gus amused for a few minutes; I had failed to account for the presence of a massive display of Toy Story 3 merchandise at the end of the aisle. Mine was not the only child within earshot that was clamoring to get out of his trolley seat, though I shamefully admit that he was the only one that took off his shoes in a fit of rage and threw them at a complete stranger's feet. After apologising, I hastily made my escape in the opposite direction, to more screams of protest from the now incensed boy; and turning the corner crashed into another stack of said merchandise. A quick sweep revealed I had walked into a parenting booby-trap, displays of Buzz Lightyear and Woody for the boys alternated with shelves full of Hello Kitty and Disney Princesses for the girls.

I have known, from the tenderly cynical age of ten, that this isn't what the biggest festival of our calendar should be about. Then again, neither is my well honed cynicism and refusal to get into the joy of a seasonal celebration that marks the coldest and darkest time of year. There is a reason that a midwinter festival of some sort occurs throughout the cold and temperate regions of the world, across religions; and who am I to have argued with the recived wisdom of my ancestors? The songs, stories and traditions of this time usually highlight the return of light to the world, tales of hope and redemption, peace and goodwill, the promise that a community could make it through the long harsh nights and bitter weather. Central heating and air freighted strawberries have successfully killed that spirit for many, but the message should not be lost, especially in the depths of recession and increasing hardship.

That is I think what needs to be regained; and perhaps here in the UK, because we no longer celebrate our harvest festivals, a time for giving thanks for all that has been gathered in the previous year. I know that I need to recapture the joy of the Christmas; and trying to stick it to those who see this merely as an annual merchandising opportunity, whilst not strictly charitable of spirit, would only heighten my joy. This year I will be working Christmas and Boxing Day (yup, nothing screams celebration and sticking it to 'em like a regular day at the office), I am on a low-fat diet thanks to gallstones (out with the mincepies, stuffed goose, chocolate santa breakfast and cheese and cracker selection then) and thanks to the debt repayment plan I have little money to plough into a celebration. These supposed annoyances might just go in my favour and actually support my sticking it to 'em quite nicely. I have little money to spend, so I am going to be very careful where I spend it. I can't binge on regular seasonal fare which means a lot of thoughtful food choices and cooking from scratch.

This week I began my preparations by making salt dough decorations; and being thankful that I have enough food in the depths of winter that I could throw it into pretty craft projects. That seems an appropriate start to a more frugal, meaningful season.

Goat cheese experiment

2010-11-15T22:20:00.000Z

Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew in my self reliance experiments, sometimes I have it bitten off for me. On a whim late last Thursday night, Nick bought four litres of goats milk that were selling for 10p each - having had the brilliant idea that 'we' could try and make curd cheese.

I have seen it done when I was small and understood that it is the simplest cheese making experiment you can carry out at home. All that is required is warmed full fat milk, to which lemon juice or vinegar is added to curdle it. This mixture is then strained for a few hours through muslin, separating the curds and whey. The result is a spreadable soft cheese at very little cost.

The first mistake I made was to think it a good idea to process all four litres at once. I started out following these basic instructions, deviating when it became apparent I was way out of my depth. The milk warming went well, I used a preserve making thermometer and a large stock pot. So far so good. I added the juice of a lemon that had accompanied the milk home from the shop. Nothing happened. No worries, I'll juice another. There were no others. OK, I'll use bottled lemon juice. I haven't kept bottled lemon juice in the house for at least two years. Oh.

It was with great scepticism that I poured in several tablespoons of red wine vinegar, the scepticism only increasing when I realised that cup volumes were obviously what was called for. When that had run out, I was all ready to give up, but as it was impossible to make the concoction any worse, I persevered and poured in a spoonful of malt vinegar. Finally the curdles began to appear.

Next came the straining. I keep a quantity of muslin for wine making, so placed a huge square of it doubled up in a colander (thankfully this is huge, comprising the steamer basket of an old pressure cooker). After half an hour, enough whey had drained that I could tie the muslin into a bundle, to be suspended from - where exactly? The bundle weighed the best part of 4 kilos! In the end we placed two dining chairs back to back, tied the top of the bundle with some spare shoelaces and tied the laces around the top rungs of the chair backs, suspended above a basin to catch the whey. In tying the knot we managed to squeeze a fair amount of the contents of the bundle over the chairs and hallway carpet. Several hours later it hadn't finished dripping, so I left it overnight and hoped for the best.

I needn't have worried. The cheese has an acidic tang to it, but is not vinegary, and is deliciously creamy. The only thing that the vinegar has added is a slightly pink tinge to the curd. I estimate that we ended up with over a kilo of curd, some of which is sitting in the fridge and some of which has been frozen into portions for stirring into pasta dishes. A quick survey suggests that ordinary curd cheese retails for around 40p per 100g, curd cheese from goats milk would be higher than that. The milk in this instance cost 40p, the lemon and vinegar a grand total of about 60p, the sea salt pennies.

Unfortunately, whilst scouring the Internet for curd cheese recipes, my eyes have been opened to the possibilities of real home cheese production. I have seen wondrous shops selling rennet and spores and waxes and molds and other stuff I don't yet know what to do with, but would like to one day. Another year perhaps...

Eating seasonally

2010-11-12T09:29:00.000Z

Starting this autumn I have really been making an effort to use seasonal produce. We did reasonably well last year, the first time that I had made a concious effort every time I went shopping, but I found our diet a little bland and lacking in variety. I don't wish to besmirch my country's culinary heritage, but I can't say I find it particularly inspiring. 'British' cooking is meat and dairy heavy, and fruit and veg have taken a back burner to the extent that I would argue that we really don't know what we are doing with them, at least when it comes to maximising their flavour and nutritional value. We do meat well, especially in joint form. We produce some amazing cheeses. We do a nice line in comfort puddings too - suet puddings, fruit pies, and cakes feature heavily and what's not to like about that? Obviously there are regional differences too between Scotland, Wales, Ireland and England.

I would say the majority of Britain no longer cooks 'British', bar the odd roast. The popularity of bolognese, lasagna and other pasta dishes, as well as kormas, stir frys, fajitas and chilli con carne against steak and kidney pie and 'native' fish dishes is evident in TV cookery shows, magazines and restaurant menus. This isn't all bad, but there is a problem with trying to eat this diet all year round.

A recent post at Casaubon's book posed the idea that taking inspiration from the seasonal dishes of other nations can help you make the most of the seasonal produce you have. The operative word being seasonal. I remember from A- Level geography that the classification of world climate and biotic zones is more complicated than I would ever care to remember, but I know that to eat Italian style food all year round in a climate such as ours requires us to import out of season produce for most of it. Looking to the cuisines of Northern and Eastern Europe makes sense then when you want to cook a cabbage more imaginitively than steaming it. I have saved my Encyclopedia of Eastern European food from the eBay pile. It's full of delicious recipes that use our familiar winter vegetables. A lot are admittedly meat and dairy heavy, but there are also plenty of fish dishes, 'peasant dishes' with pulses and vegetables and delicious fruit deserts. Last night I made a stew of seasonal root vegetables with sweet and warming smoked parika. A stew made with imported bell peppers and basil or oregano just wouldn't have cut the mustard on a brisk rainy day like today.

I have a feeling I am not quite as well informed as I might be about British food traditions. I admit a prejudice against many of our great traditional recipes because my system just can't handle that much meat and dairy every day (except Stilton cheese, I can eat that on oatcakes until the cows come home. Or I am hospitalised with gout, whichever comes sooner). I recognise that British foods survived deepening wartime rationing for well over ten years, which would ravage any food culture. I think we are missing something by eschewing our traditional grains for breakfast cereals and tons of pasta; and tea and cake for instant coffee and 'blueberry' muffins. But for all my searching, I can't find any evidence that we know how to use carrots or chard, sprouts, beetroot, spinach, turnip, tomatoes, cucumbers, peas, beans, marrows, mushrooms, watercress or pumpkin, or the culinary herbs that grow so well here to bring out the very best in them and make them the focus of a feast. In a world where we are going to be increasingly reliant upon local seasonal produce from lower down the food chain to sustain us, we need to know how to make food for the body and the soul. On that front, I think, we might need a little help from our international friends.

As it turned out...

2010-11-08T22:22:00.000Z

to do lists are a great idea! Almost everything on the list is complete, I substituted a few tasks for some other jobs that have been bugging me for a while. Today I was flicking back through my notebook to some older, bolder to-do lists written a few months ago. I can tick most of the items off the list - sell at carboot sales, purchase new sofa, start making wine, clear out the garden, plant some tree seeds, paint the living room, throw a halloween bash, pay down debts, return that two year overdue library book, plan a food budget and pantry, declutter the house, get a dining table.... We have managed to get them all done in the past few months, plus a few more. There are still lots of things to be doing, but it was satisfying to tick off all the little things that we had managed and also a few that were no longer important for us to do.

This month we have managed to pay off over half of our outstanding debts. That means that our debt free day has been brought forward from 'indefinite', to the end of February 2011. I can't say how relieved I am about this, that in a few months we will be using our wages to build our finances and to fund the things that we want in life, rather than funding the interest payments on loans taken out before we were wise enough to realise the rules of the game.

So all in all it has been a productive week and a productive year. Which is progress, because most years of my adult life have been years of consumption, debt and dissatisafction. I imagine that this is a process that is going on up and down the land, and across the world. People are finding joy in doing things for themselves, in crafts and home cooking and making themselves more secure and resilient and happy, all the things we have strived for for millenia. It is very tough and I know that there is for most people no romance in it, but it is comforting to know that we are making a start.

Organising

2010-11-04T19:06:00.000Z

It seems that this time of year is a time for getting organised and knuckling down to all the small jobs that have built up over the year. Every blog I read seems to be abuzz with talk of decluttering, rearranging, streamlining and cleaning. It puts me to shame, it really does.

I am not good at daily routines, such as hoovering, laundry sorting and washing up. Just because the laundry made it to the machine and the wash cycle is complete does not mean that the laundry will get hung up to dry, not before it needs a freshen up cycle at any rate. It's this kind of disorganisation that wastes a lot of time and energy in our house; and probably money too.

So November is my month to knuckle down to it too. We have relatives visiting later in the month, which is an excellent incentive to clean up my act. Nothing like public humiliation to spur me to action, apparently. Today I spent a few minutes whilst waiting for the casserole to reheat to organise the kitchen drawers. That tiny little bit of progress felt ridiculously good. I don't have a plan to tackle a room at a time as such, but just to spend a few minutes every time I enter a room trying to make a little headway. I do need to measure my progress, however, so by this time tomorrow:

The empty glass bottles that have stacked up over the last month will have been taken to the garage ready to be refilled with home brewed beer when the time comes.
I will have pared down and organised my cleaning supplies.
The kitchen floor will be clear of all objects but the bin, the cats bowls and the rug.
The laundry will have been sorted and put away, some sorted for charity collection.
The dining table will be cleared of paperwork.
At least 3 unwanted items from every room will be leaving our house permanently.

This is all incredibly dull and unambitious, I know. But the difference it will make to my house and my mood is immeasurable.

Epiphany

2010-10-27T15:13:00.000+01:00

I wrote a post yesterday about how I tend to sabotage myself, before I even get started. Ironically, I didn't publish it, because who would want to read that anyway?

No amount of navel gazing will actually move you forward. You can believe that you will never be as good at something as you want to be. You can believe that perfection is an achievable goal. You can believe that there is always someone else that will do something better than you ever will. You can believe that there are outside agencies that will prevent you from achieving what you want. You can believe that any mistake you have ever made condemns you to failure for the rest of your days. You can believe any of the negative mind chatter that you want to believe about yourself, that stops you moving forward to where you want to go.

When I say you, obviously I mean me. I realise now after all these years there is an easier way to live. Just ignore the mind chatter; much in the way you would ignore someone trying to sell you extra cable TV, or double glazing for a house you don't own, or a handcart trip to hell and other crap you don't need. Those people eventually give up and go home. If you are too busy concentrating on the things you really want to succeed at, whether that be designing knitting patterns, growing prize pumpkins, becoming financially independent, or becoming world Tetris champion, self sabotaging thoughts won't have room to take root. Life is too short to let the ghosts of everyone who has ever criticised you, called you names, told you you are incapable or made you feel that you can never ever be good enough, to rule your life. You can't gaze at your navel and the horizon at the same time; and I know which one is generally more worthy of study.

It's all just a case of deciding to begin; and then deciding to keep on carrying on. So I have decided to begin.

Meditations on fermentations

2010-10-23T23:05:00.000+01:00

We have been hard at work here during 2010; and after 9 months of hard slog; or rather a few hours light work spread over 9 months, I have a new baby:

It's not quite finished and needs to rest in the bottle for a few more months, but here is the 2010 vintage parsnip wine. We have been brewing our own beer for several years, which is Nick's domain (previously referred to here as OH, but apparently he is ready to come out now from behind the acronym to show the world his booze); but the wine only got started in earnest in February, by myself. This is my first bottling and I am ridiculously pleased with myself.

I can recommend brewing, winemaking and even seasonal liqueur making as excellent hobbies for simple living types for several reasons. Firstly, the start up costs are low - most of the (minimal) equipment and chemicals required can be purchased cheaply and in stages, if they aren't already lying around the house. We managed to get most of our demijohns from Freecycle and most of our empty bottles from our more hedonistic friends. All of my books have come second hand. The raw ingredients in the case of winemaking can be seasonal gluts or even foraged fruits and some cane sugar, as well as a handful of inexpensive chemicals. Beer is a little more demanding as most people don't live near malting houses or grow their own hops, but with the magic of the Internet it is still achievable for most people. Whatever way you go about it, the finished product will have cost a fraction of the price of any commercial product and can be of higher quality and character.

The basic principles behind both beer and wine making are simple to grasp and apply; but afterwards you can go as deep into the art, science and technology as you wish. You can start with tinned extract kits or start from raw ingredients. The finished product will be better with each attempt, although there will be mistakes along the way, most of which you won't know about until you have taken a mouthful of the foul brew.

I love the process of making wine. It is a lot slower than brewing, but I love the alchemy of watching pulp ferment, watching bubbles flow through airlocks, racking the wine over and over into clean demijohns and seeing that it is clearer with every month that goes by. If you are less than patient by nature (which is usually me, I have to say), you can buy extra chemicals and filters to speed the process up. But why rush?

If it is something that interests you, a quick google search will bring up a range of forums, advice pages, blogs and recipes. Even better, try to find a local home brew shop (there are more around than I realised, certainly in the UK) as the staff are generally keen to pass on their knowledge and advice (and of course their wares, most of which you may or may not actually need). Radical Brewing by Randy Mosher is a bible of beer making, tasting, culture and history; with humour to boot. First Steps in Wine Making by C.J.J. Berry is a classic beginners text. A peruse of the library, second hand book stores and eBay will often turn up some older treasures.

Soon after the parsnip wine was first racked, a friend and I started a 15 litre batch of rhubarb wine which is making good progress. This past week Nick and I walked to the common and collected a sackful of wild rosehips, which are fermenting now in a bucket. This time next year I hope to be toasting autumn and Halloween with a few friends and a wine that is allegedly second only to grape wine in quality. Which brings me to yet another reason to ferment-it-yourself. The end product inspires good feeling and good times, whether you give it away as a present or host a party, or even brew with a buddy. So long as the alcohol doesn't flow too freely, of course...

Back to basics - budgeting links

2010-10-18T10:12:00.000+01:00

I have known for a few months that our income would be dropping when OH started university. I knew that he would be starting university in September. Unfortunately, us being us, we were a little hazy on the details of just how a drop in income of a few hundred pounds a month would effect us. Now here we are, finding out just what it means. We are not in dire straits, but the budget will certainly be leaner over the next few months. It is a little daunting to return to budgeting after a few months of belt loosening. Which was all good fun whilst it lasted. However, all that hard work and frugality will have been for nothing if we end up right back where we started.

I am trying to recapture that feeling of excitement I had at the end of last year when began to make serious inroads into our debts. Luckily in my mind, autumn and winter are a time for retiring a little from the world; and despite the gift giving frenzy that is December, plus a few birthdays, I don't tend to have as many hedonistic money splurging urges as I do in the warmer months.

Still, to get myself in the mood for belt tightening, I have been looking over some of the resources I found so useful the first time around:

Rhonda Jean at Down to Earth has written many inspiring posts about managing the household budget and making more from less.

Money Saving Expert, both the main site and the forums, are a treasure trove of budgeting, debt busting and consumer advice.

The Simple Dollar is a beautifully simple personal finance blog that focuses on the basics - 'Trent's money rules' and '31 days to fix your finances' ofter practical advice and a financial carrot (and sometimes stick) to keep you on the straight and narrow. It was here that I first learnt to think about my money in terms of hours worked; which put me on the road (eventually, after working through my stubborness...) to simpler living.

As it doesn't always come naturally, what inspires you to manage your finances? Do you need a carrot, or a stick? Do you budget, or do you just go with the flow every month? I need some inspiration, please!

A life (slightly) less spicy

2010-10-14T19:02:00.003+01:00

This is a good time of year for taking stock, and in this specific instance, taking stock of stock ingredients. I was going to run with taking stock of the stock cupboard, but that is for another day, so today's dire pun of a post will revolve around my spice drawer. Behold:

I think leaving home, branching out and discovering who you are and who you want to become inevitably involves some rebelling against your heritage and exploring what the world has to offer. In my case, that meant a good deal of experimenting with food and flavours. I am not a fan of bland, but a fan of strong, punchy, fragrant, warming, zesty, spicy, earthy, piquant, hot, cooling, sweet, sour, acidic, smoky and everything above beyond and in between. Which poses problems in a simpler kitchen, because you need a large spice drawer to house all of those adjectives.

With the exception of green cardamon pods, I have never met a spice or herb that I couldn't eventually work with. Living in a city with several excellent ethnic supermarkets meant I have had the opportunity to work my way around the world's flavours cheaply and find what I like. Unfortunately, I liked most of it.

I am now working and cooking for a family, which means there is less time for experimenting, less money for wasting and less space to store ingredients. So today I took a few minutes to pare down my spice drawer. Firstly, I removed anything that was out of date, after a sniff and possibly a taste test. That removed about a quarter of the seasonings. Next I went through the nearly used up jars, to see if I could use them up before they were past their best. In my heart of hearts, I know that I will never use fennel and dill seed again, so they were out. I decanted my prized core herbs and spices that I could not live without into now empty air-tight jars and returned them to the drawer.

I like Indian food when eating at restaurants, but rarely cook it at home. All of the Indian and Balti spice mixes have gone, along with a few individual herbs and spices particular to those cuisines. Some seasonings are very versatile - garlic, ginger, oregano, basil, paprika, chilli, black pepper will service a range of different dishes from pasta to goulash to a stir fry or Thai curry (at a stretch). Some, such as cumin, I use only when I make a chilli or marinade meat, but then I make chilli quite often. Some spices I despise when dried but love fresh from the plant, such as parsley and coriander. Some seasonings are seasonal - I use sumac and dried mint by the ton in summer, but could probably go without over winter. Cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice don't see the light of day until autumn.

When I plan next years garden, I want to maximise my production of flavour ingredients. We have a potted bay tree; and bay also grows wild in the parks around here, as do massive rosemary plants. We also have thyme, mint, tarragon, parsley and sage; and I plan to add a few others. I also need to learn, finally, how to preserve and store them at the end of the season.

A quick peruse of the Internet on spice storage is quite frankly, confusing, so I have distilled my own experience and a bit of common sense into a few basic rules that I will from now on be following:

Don't buy large quantities of spices unless you use that spice in large quantities. It isn't cost effective if they are past their best when you come to use them. Most have a shelf life of up to 1 year at best.
Decant all herbs and spices the moment they are opened into airtight containers and store in a cool dark place, possibly even the fridge or freezer if ground. I lost good basil for want of this, sigh.
Buy whole spices and grind them as needed, if possible. They stay fresher for longer.
A quick sniff audit every now and again should tell you whether something is past its best - and that doesn't necessarily mean odourless. Savour the spices when they are fresh and you will know how they are meant to smell and taste.
Explore you locality for wild growing herbs. If you have the space, grow your own seasonings. This should save money, beautify your surroundings and mean you always have seasonings on hand for the pot.

If you are wondering why this important issue is so dear to my heart, please have a heart for those forgotten citizens of your spice rack. ; )

Needing a push.

2010-10-09T16:31:00.001+01:00

Our internet connection is playing up at the moment, so posting will be even more intermittent than it has been of late, until we get it sorted.

It has had its advantages. Many of the odd jobs I have been meaning to do since we moved in over two years ago are now complete. The living room has been painted. The sofa covers have been cleaned and dyed a deep (sticky-fingered-toddler proof) navy. Some more decluttering has been done and some rearranging of furniture. All in all, the house looks a little fresher and a little more welcoming; and it probably would not all have been completed had I had reliable internet access.

This is my favourite time of year, not least because I associate it with starting school and university and a year of learning, challenges and new experiences ahead. Its unlikely I will ever be going back to university; and as my darling OH has just started his mental health nurse training, I am tinged with a little jealousy too. I want to be immersed in piles of books and essays and seminars. I feel stuck in a rut. I haven't really pushed myself mentally since I left university; and my job seems to actively waste away my brain. There is no amount of decorating, crafting and housekeeping that is going to change this fact. I need a real challenge, a push, but in which direction I do not yet know.

The spinning is going better with each attempt and I am hooked. The rhythmic motions and productivity of it are very relaxing. I downloaded Respect the Spindle with Abby Franquemont and ordered the book of the same name and all I can say is I LOVE ABBY FRANQUEMONT. The book and video are beautiful and explain everything so well, at a pace you can practice along to. My spindle of loosely twisted, uneven merino has become finer and more consistent, almost yarn like, in fact...

Mild disgruntlement aside, I am looking forward to the rest of autumn and onwards into a new year. I know that most people have a season that they love and autumn is mine. Whatever you are up to, I hope you make the most of the months ahead, whether the passage of the seasons be winding up or winding down in your hemisphere. Enjoy it.

Another obsession in the making

2010-09-29T20:29:00.000+01:00

The last few weeks, pingling child not withstanding, my promise not to buy any more yarn or craft materials until I had wound down my stash has been going quite well.

A few days into our holiday however an idea wafted in on the sea breeze and implanted itself in my brain...I could make my own yarn! I could learn to spin, on a drop spindle first, then progress up the ranks. I could then plant a few dye plants, experiment perhaps with growing my own plant fibres, one day keep sheep and alpacas and angora bunnies...have a dye studio, paint some yarn...yup. A few days into our holiday, in a very rural very arable county with few fibre animals and even fewer craft shops, I became obsessed with the idea of finding a spindle and a book about spinning. Obsessed to the point of insomnia at one point.

Unfortunately, bankrupted by said holiday until payday, I had to wait. The idea didn't fade into the background. Everytime I picked up my knitting, I wanted to be learning to spin at that moment. It has been a long time since an idea has gripped me with such longing for action (I am quite sloth like at heart). In the end, I bit the bullet and dipped into my savings (to be replaced next month) and bought a drop spindle kit.

I am rubbish. So rubbish. I want to be good right now, I want to be practising at every moment of the day and night, I want those pretty dyed rovings (I can't even remember if thats what they are called, I am THAT rubbish) to be pretty handspun yarn and eventually a pretty hand knitted something. Sigh.

A productive week

2010-09-29T17:05:00.000+01:00

When I began to refine my life goals a few months ago, the biggest thing for me was that I wanted to stop damaging and start repairing the world and the people around me. Beyond mindful consumption, that means actually working to repair damage already wrought.

The book Trees and How to Grow Them is a brilliant (though not a field) guide to our native and common trees. I bought it as a gift from Gus to his dad when Gus was just a month old. Finally this autumn, it has come down from the shelf and been put to use. It gives plenty of instruction on collecting and preparing different seeds for planting; as well as planting trees out where they will be only beneficial and not a nuisance.

So far we have collected wild plum and cherry stones, hazelnuts, horse chestnut, bird cherry and rowan. There will be more as we find them locally over the next few weeks. I would like some more edibles, such as sweet chestnuts and apples. After a few sessions looking for seeds and edible treats, we here can highly recommend an afternoon spent in the friendly company of your local trees. They filter out the noise of the city, they welcome inquisitive children (and adults), they sometimes offer up a little food or a place to shelter and watch the world go by; and they lift your spirits after a few hours of walking amongst them. Which is why in a city of 200,000 people, there should be more than 30,000 trees.

In a year or two, with a little TLC, we will hopefully have some strong saplings, ready to be planted out around the city. In a world where I consume so much, including many, many trees, many habitats and many foraged fruits, I know that I have actually put something (small) back with my own two hands. Which is a start.

Knitting nemesis

2010-09-27T15:26:00.001+01:00

I have a head swimming with ideas for things I want to design and knit (or crochet) with my yarn stash. Winter is a coming, and autumn and winter are knitting seasons. They are also the seasons of wind chilled ears and numb fingers and toes; hence I needed to start stitching, ooh say, in March 2010.

Unfortunately I have a knitting nemesis apparently determined to thwart every swatch I cast on. Especially the ones with the complicated lace patterns, variable stitch counts and fiddly yarns. High surfaces, closed-tight cupboards and knitting bags are apparently light (but absorbing) work for a toddler, as is pulling my starter rows off of the needles and trailing a knotty mess around the house. It takes him about the thirty seconds it takes me to put milk in my tea and walk into the living room.

I read a lot of those gorgeous crafting blogs, the ones where lavishly heaped skeins in decorative ceramic bowls happily coexist with small children that, whilst the bowl is at eye (and therefore pingling) level, ignore it, instead seeking joy creatively but tidily elsewhere, leaving mummy to knit in peace.

Which makes me wonder...where do I get one of those magical decorative ceramic bowls that adorable toddlers find so repugnant?

(Secretly I am of course delighted that one of the men in the house admires a hand dyed silk-merino 6 ply when he sees it. That child is going to be one screwed up yarn crafting genius when I am through with him).

We're back

2010-09-24T09:10:00.000+01:00

We have been back for almost a week, but I wanted to hold on to the deep peace of big open Norfolk skies, the joy of friendly company and the sense of possibility that you carry when you have spent a week away from the humdrum of your life, for just a few days longer.

As it was, I went into work yesterday (to help them out of a fix) and all that disappeared in an instant. Apparently a recession is an excuse for complete lack of civility and trust in the world of work. "Hell, you won't be able to find a job anywhere else, so we now have free reign to run this place like a battery farm".

This morning I arose early, reinvigorated towards my goals. When the debts are paid off, they will have no hold on me. I will be free to walk. I will be free to make my living by producing something beautiful and useful in the world, as it should always have been. I have put this one on the back burner for a few months, but now is the time to knuckle down again.

I came home exhausted at the end of my shift last night; but I came home itching to cook. One huge casserole later; and I won't be buying unappetising, unhealthy overpriced crap from the shop at work for the next 3 days. Me £10, b*****ds £0. Result.

Deliciousness is...

2010-09-09T21:46:00.000+01:00

We are off on our travels soon, so it was time to take down the tomato plants and make something of the abundance of green tomatoes left on the vines. I think that the green ones are more beautiful than any other tomatoes I have seen. I have never actually eaten green tomatoes, but as time is short, we might just do that. I had grand plans to batch cook tomato sauce, which unless they ripen up in the next 2 days isn't going to happen. Perhaps I shall take some with us to whip up a few self catered frugal meals, or to give to the friends we will visit on our travels.

I am amazed that these fruits are so integral to so many food traditions, not least my own. I assume that it is in part because they are easy to grow and marry well with so many other flavours. As a student, most of the people I knew didn't let a meal go by without resort to a can of plum tomatoes. They are delicious, they are useful, but I can't help but feel that I rely on them a little too much for easy weekday meals. Having managed to produce delicious homegrown tomatoes for the first time in years, I want to do it all over again next summer and be able to savour them as a seasonal treat.

I have no idea what we are going to eat in their place this winter...

Minimalism vs. the farm (vs. my brain)

2010-09-08T23:36:00.000+01:00

The last few weeks I have been on a decluttering drive and it has made a huge difference to our home. I have vastly scaled back in the kitchen, the book collection, my yarn stash (all that acrylic has gone to a better place where it will be made into something beautiful) and now I am moving on to our wardrobes, again.

As I am clearing however, I feel a certain unease. Many of the things that I own serve a useful purpose - the kitchen equipment, the craft materials, gardening bits and bobs. When I peruse other blogs, where people are settled into their smallholdings and self reliant lifestyles, they do seem to be surrounded by an awful lot of stuff. Tools, books, craft materials, bake ware, canning equipment, extra linens and clothing...all seem necessary if you are going to have a degree of self reliance and sufficiency. Which is making me wonder - do I really want that lifestyle? I love the idea of producing our own food, tending animals, hand crafting many of the things we need in our day to day lives. But does that mean I will have to maintain lots of stuff? Is it that the more skills I learn, the more equipment I will need; and the bigger the space I will need to accommodate it all?

I love my new found lack of stuff - I have enough that I can live a simple lifestyle in a small terraced house in the city. But the part of me that has an eye on possible power cuts and economic disruption in the not too distant future is less sanguine about throwing out that second hand-cranked torch and extra layers of clothing, 'just in case'. Then there is the incredibly optimistic part of me, scouting the horizon for our 'farm' with a veg patch and pantry and workshop, that wants to keep the maslin pan and perhaps invest in some more cookware and knitting needles, for when the time comes.

Decluttering is temporarily halted. My brain is about to explode.

Rethinking the kitchen

2010-08-28T19:39:00.001+01:00

I found a link to Stone Soup whilst browsing the equally wonderful Move to Portugal earlier today and I am so inspired. I love the minimalism of stonesoup, with its focus on simple to prepare, 5 (quality but common) ingredient recipes that take minutes to prepare with basic kitchen tools.

I already have a very heavy box of kitchen equipment ready to go to the next car boot sale we do. The cookbooks are to be pared down even further too, as I realise that I have never cooked out of 3/4 of them. Whilst I love good food and experimenting in the kitchen, cooking isn't my raison d'être - yet I spend a disproportionate amount of my time in the kitchen looking at, finding homes for and washing up more utensils and items of cookware than I know what to do with. At least until now, anyway. It turned out the solution was a cardboard box and a black bin liner :) .

Rainy days

2010-08-25T23:53:00.006+01:00

We have had torrential rain for the past few days. Rainy days are wonderful if you don't have to go out in them. To be snug at home watching the rain falling outside is one of the most comforting feelings a human can experience. Unfortunately, I was silly and stepped out in the rain unprepared a few days ago; and now I have a sore throat, fuzzy head and generally ache all over. Even so, I have whiled away a few days ignoring the housework. Instead I have been knitting, reading, watching films, drinking tea and cocoa and trying to ignore the sore throat.

The jumper is going well and I have now started knitting the front. I want to have it ready for OH's birthday in November. I also have plans to whip up a Christmas jumper for the boy and some accessories for me (to protect me from the weather so that I don't suffer again as I am suffering now). I will no doubt find my rhythm between now and then. As the nights draw in I find myself wanting to sit and be productive indoors.

Tomorrow, I have to go to work and then catch up on all the chores. It has been nice to relax for a just a few days with my little boy, who has been wonderfully understanding about it all and hasn't protested about the snuggling, film watching, book reading and cake and biscuit breakfasts even one bit...

Time to reflect on how far we have come

2010-08-23T22:43:00.001+01:00

A few of my activities today have put me in reflective mood. Our little baby boy is no longer a baby, but a talkative and independent twenty-two month old! Time has flown and much has changed since he was born, in the last year especially.

Some of the important things that we have done in the past twelve months:

Finances - We have paid off £2000 debt. This is perhaps the most exciting thing to reflect on. I know that we could have done even better than this, but we afforded ourselves a few luxuries along the way. Even so, two credit cards are now gone, and we no longer have overdraft facilities. Every month we have a little money put aside spare, which is a position I never imagined we would be in for the next decade! We have also transferred the majority of the remainder of the debt to 0% interest rates, which means that we will be able to pay it off faster every month.

Home - We have been on a massive decluttering mission this year. We have charity bagged, chucked out and car booted possessions that I had deep emotional (read 'hoarding instinct') attachments to just a few years ago. the house is clearer (though by no means complete) and our lives are lighter. Hopefully other people benefited from our stuff too. We also invested in some solid furniture as ours wore out; I think we finally grasped the importance of quality and beauty and functionality over quantity.

Practical skills - Over the last few years we have been knuckling down and learning the skills for true self reliance. So new found money management skills aside:

This year I have put much more effort into the garden and developing my food growing skills; and from just a few containers our harvest over the next few months is looking promising. I am branching out into winter crops this year too. Unfortunately I haven't learnt the art of war against caterpillars. There's always next year...

Our home brewing (OH's) and wine making (mine) enterprise is going well and is very satisfying work . OH is about to start his first non-kit, from mash brew. I have plans for lots of foraged fruit wines and perhaps some cider in the months ahead. As well as the finished product (which has an uncanny ability to win you friends and influence people!), I find the whole process fascinating.

I have developed my knitting and crochet beyond basic stitches and simple shaping. Now I wonder every time I need a soft furnishing or item of clothing, 'can I knit that?'. Being able to make basic items like socks, hats and gloves to keep us warm comforts me deeply.

I can finally bake a loaf of good bread, along with lots of other baked/skillet staples.

Parenting - we have had to learn patience, tolerance and a good dose of selflessness. But thankfully our little boy teaches us as painlessly as possible, with the most fun and smiles he can muster (which is a LOT). Oh, and when handed a pooey baby, I can close off my smell receptors and have that baby cleaned and pinned in a terry cloth before others have stopped retching - which is good progress for an only child that was never entirely sold on being a parent.

I realise now that we are closer to living our dreams than I usually give credit for. It is so easy to focus on what we don't have, what we want to be doing and what we don't feel we are doing well enough. I know now that goals and dreams are built one and every moment at a time, until you arrive at the place where you want to be. If the goals are the right ones for you, then the journey will be as enjoyable as the destination.

Where there's smoke...

2010-08-23T12:06:00.000+01:00

it's a mighty fine idea to check that there isn't fire.

So, every time a politician or a corporation or an international quango says 'nothing to see here, move along'; based upon previous experience that they will lie to us with almost every breath that they take in public; surely, then, that is exactly the moment that journalists and citizens should start digging for the actual truth?

But perhaps I am just a cynic.

Tracking spending

2010-08-20T22:37:00.000+01:00

When you first go looking for information on simple living or household financial management, the suggestion that you should track all of your spending (usually for a minimum of one month) will always come up. However, the anti-planner in me always balked at the thought of such organisation and the idea was always dismissed.

The carrot of sound finances to pay for that eventual homestead/cycling holiday/banjo means I have finally been summoned by my inner-accountant, and have begun to track my spending. Ironically I bought a notebook to do it in, but it was 75% off and it is very pretty (which obviously absolves me). I have drawn a date column, followed by an 'amount spent' column, a 'payment method' column and finally a space to record the brief details of where and what I spent the money on. Some people choose to itemise every purchase, I write a general description (for example 'Corner shop - baked goods') and instead am keeping all of my receipts. I also don't list automatic payments/direct debits as these appear on monthly bank statements. At the end of every day, I tot up the amounts (and weep...).

This exercise, after only a few days, has been revealing and my inner anti-planner has been banished by my inner-accountant until I require her services for spontaneous fun. As it turns out, long term financial planning does not require the same mindset as throwing spur of the moment picnics, coffee shop stops and last minute jollies to the beach, which might be where I was going wrong for all those years.

I realise now that most of my small spending is done with cash; most of it is spent on snacks from the corner shop. In the past when I have read my bank statements and seen cash withdrawals, I have always explained them away to myself as cash for bus fares, pints of milk and other last minute essentials, which actually represent a minority of my cash outgoings. I also noticed that we end up buying essentials at uncompetitive prices because we have run out of something or I have forgotten them in the bulk shop.

Keeping the diary has made me reluctant to spend, because I do not want to accrue receipts or see the actual numbers tallied up every day. When I forgot to pick up my packed lunch, instead of going to the shop and buying a sandwich, drink and treat, I bought a carton of milk and used up the last of the cereal I keep at work. Just the disincentive of having to note down a figure saved me the best part of £4. So whilst the spending diary is an exercise in observation, I realise it is also motivating me to spend my money more wisely. I will use the information to tweak our monthly budget, our shopping lists and also my daily routines.

So now I am evangelical about the ways of the spending book, here are my tips for tracking spending:

Start a diary - a notebook small enough to carry around everywhere. I have found a rows and columns format easiest, but some people may like to write out sentences. The minimum information you need to record is the date, the amount, the payment method and the where/what on. Some people use a spreadsheet instead or as well as a notebook. Do whichever you find easiest.

Ask for and keep all receipts. Highlight any gratuitous spending to help you recognise your pitfalls.

Actually open and read bank statements. Together with your diary, they will help you build up a complete picture of where the money goes each month.

Get your partner on board to build a complete picture of household spending. I have finally convinced my OH that telling me about every penny that has left his pocket during the day is a scintillating use of his time.

Record EVERYTHING you spend, no matter how small the amount.

If you are using the book to motivate you to spend less, place a reminder of a juicy financial goal on the front cover or inside. It could be a picture of a holiday destination. Mine is the total number of pennies I need to save for a deposit on our some-day homestead. Yes, I did say pennies.

Back home

2010-08-19T22:54:00.003+01:00

I have been away for a week visiting relatives in sunny Derbyshire. OK, it really isn't very sunny, but it is fairly picturesque in the moments when the cloud cover breaks and the sun illuminates the peaks. Unfortunately I forgot to take my camera, so I can't show you. It is well worth a visit if ever you pass that way.

A week away from the city calms and clarifies the mind beautifully. As a child I used to wander for hours in the countryside if I had a decision to make or was feeling out of sorts. I never realised until last week how much I missed the opportunity to roam free, physically and mentally, for just a few hours.

Which leads me to the decision I made whilst we were away and my mind was peacefully rambling. I am not an urban girl, I never will be. Sure I can cope, but I don't thrive. Too much noise, too much commotion, too much competition - and for want of a better word, too much fronting. So when we move, as the darling OH is also not overly enamoured with city living, we will be leaving the city. This will be in a few years when he has finished his nursing training, but I have made peace with that and will throw myself into enjoying to the full all the pluses of living in the most densely populated city in the UK (awesome 'Indian' restaurants and takeaways, for one) and of course, spending time with all of the lovely people here that we call our friends and neighbours.

We are still undecided just how rural we will go. At the moment I am keen on the outskirts of a town. Being landlocked in Derbyshire, followed by a stopover in the equally pretty-but-landlocked Oxfordshire, also taught me that reservoirs and lakes and streams are no substitute for the open sea and a beach nearby - and therefore we will not be heading too far inland anytime soon.

But knowing where our eventual patch of the earth will not be is a step in the right direction, don't you think?

Permaculture goes mainstreamish

2010-08-05T12:20:00.000+01:00

I remember watching the odd episode of Gardener's World in the nineties and being disgusted by the heavy emphasis on hard landscaping and high maintenance annuals. I am delighted to see that the Beeb has finally gone hippy-dippy and embraced permaculture principles. I think perhaps the interest that A Farm for the Future and The Future of Food generated last year, along with Alys Fowler's The Edible Garden means that we will see more quality coverage of such issues over the coming years, which can only be a good thing. If you can dig any of those out they are all worth a watch.

Back to GW - Herb spirals, prairie borders and forest gardens, along with organic vegetable growing. You can watch it on iPlayer if you are in the UK (and possibly if you're not).

Low impact living for a high impact life

2010-08-04T17:26:00.000+01:00

I think my philosophical meanderings over recent weeks have taken their toll on me a little and I am seeing the future through gloom tinted spectacles. Every goal I decide upon seems wanting somehow and I am once again paralysed by indecision.

So I have decided to start steering a course and hope I land up somewhere...nice. There are a couple of things that I know I want that I now recognize have drifted in and out of my consciousness since I was a child:

To own my own 'homestead', size to be determined at a later date when I have explored a few other activities I might want to incorporate into my daily existence. May range from terrace house with good garden to large permaculture farm away from 'civilization'. I would like to produce a good fraction of our food and perhaps even fibres (a girl's gotta knit; and possibly even weave by then!) and also be self reliant (not necessarily sufficient) in energy. There would be an outdoor 'room' space too, a porch or fire pit. No idea where in the world it would be, apart from near to the coast, somewhere you can look up and see stars, not sulphur lamp. Abroad appeals.

To travel and have adventures, in a low impact way. I like the idea of packing a trailer and going bicycle touring. Perhaps a bit of trekking. There will definitely be tents and camp stoves and marshmallows. I think that this is something that Gus would enjoy too, even if I struggle to convince daddy of the merits of leaving his brum-brum at home.

To earn a living by being productive, by which I mean producing genuinely valuable goods - whether that be food, music, knitted clothing or good cheer - in the lowest impact way possible.

To be involved in some kind of ecological restoration - whether that be forest planting, beach clean ups or a bit of guerilla gardening.

To spend more of my hours in good company. I have a tendency to be a bit of a recluse, yet really enjoy the company of good friends when I manage to get it together and get in contact.

To be proficient in a (portable, probably stringed) musical instrument. Because the above campfires/porch/friends/marshmallows are not going to provide their own soundtrack.

I would like to be fluent in another language, because I think that being able to read and speak and comprehend another cultures language will open windows on the world to savour. Again, I don't know which one...perhaps more than one.

That's my list. I know that it isn't very precise, is apt to change and as yet has no measurable targets and mini goals attached to it. But just reading it makes me feel more positive about the future. I have something to aim for, but the striving for it, unlike so many of the other life goals I have contempleated, does not require me to place an unsustainable burden on the biosphere and doesn't induce massive amounts of guilt - or debt. It seems doable in a world with a significantly reduced energy supply and consumption too.

In Depletion and Abundance, the author Sharon Astyk talks about the Jewish concept of Tikkun Olam, or 'the repair of the world'. Whilst it no doubt has specific connotations within Jewish culture, I like the idea that it conjures up for me, the idea that I could; and should; contribute something meaningful to the world, to mend that which is broken. The place to start is of course with my own life, by first minimising the harm that I could be doing. Anything on top of that is just gravy that makes life a joy to live.

Working out 'simple'

2010-08-02T22:56:00.002+01:00

I am in a bit of a funk at the moment as to what 'simple' means to me. I want to really knuckle down to setting goals (which has never been my forte - I'm more of a go with the flow type of gal). 'Simple living' means many things to many different people. One of the maxims I have come across frequently is 'focus on what is important to you' - but this may be a very different lifestyle from the Amish simple lifestyle, if say, training to be an astronaut is my passion. To some people simple living means spending less (but not necessarily consuming less), to others it means living and working in a minimalist environment and to still others, complete self sufficiency.

Yesterday I was reacquainted with the phrase 'Live simply, so that others may simply live'. I like it. I think I have found the definition of simplicity that I want to embody everyday of my life. I need to start using my fair share of the resources available, so that others may have theirs too. I need to recognise when I have 'enough', when having more adds nothing to my experience, or even detracts from it. It is hard to do in a culture that doesn't realise there is a broken connection between its brain and its belly, resulting in a hunger that can never be sated. For all my good intentions I give in to temptation on a daily basis.

I spent a fruitless few hours yesterday surfing the web for what exactly my 'fair share' looks like. I think that I had hoped that somebody had made a pie chart of resources and how much of each a person could consume every year. No such luck. The closest anyone has come is the ecological footprint calculator which tells you how many Planet Earths would be required if everyone lived like you. There are a few out there and they all give slightly different results. If you live in the 'West', chances are they are well above 1 (the UK average is 3 - and I am guessing that we aren't the worst). My own footprint comes out at 2.25. That's not my fair share and I have some work to do.

The powered down kitchen

2010-07-27T12:47:00.029+01:00

This week I have been brooding over both our food budget and our energy use. The food I have made great progress on whittling down over the last twelve months but still want to tweak it a little to incorporate building up a decent store and rotation. The utilities are going in the opposite direction. We pay our gas and electric bills by monthly direct debit; and once again the amounts have had to rise to take into account rising prices and our own profligacy. It can be hard at the end of the day to change daily habits - for example, ooooh, lets say - hours sat in front of the PC, browsing mindlessly. Ironically, the path of least resistance in this case is the one that uses the most energy.

A few months ago I found a brilliant book - The Victory Cookbook by Marguerite Patten. Marguerite, who is now in her nineties, was in effect Britains' first celebrity chef, a home economist in the Ministry of Food during WWII. The book is a compilation of her three wartime cookbooks and some additional illustrations, adverts, pamphlets and background information from the war, victory and 'austerity' years.

The first thing I noticed was how unappetising some of the recipes are a first glance, to someone who has a world cuisine at their disposal. This was a Britain before Elizabeth David and the prosperity of the sixties. There were no fast food joints, olive oil was bought from a chemist (that's a pharmacy to the rest of the English speaking world) and Coronation Chicken only popped onto the scene in 1953. Food systems were relatively localised and the cuisines of empire hadn't impacted on the nations taste beyond tea, cocoa, bananas and orange squash. Dig a little deeper of course and you realise that the book adapts quite nicely to a more prosperous population hankering after seasonal local food.

The second thing that really dawned on me was just how little people had to eat during the war - and how they had even less as the economy was mobilised for export after 1945. The absurdity of the average modern industrialised diet of too many calories, too much fat and too few nutrients (along with massive systemic and domestic food waste) is brought in to sharp focus against a national food heritage of war rationing and hunger that actually left the war generation the healthiest and longest lived in European history.

The third point, was the emphasis that was placed upon fuel efficiency throughout. Admonitions against lighting the oven for a single dish and over boiling vegetables sit next to recipes for griddle scones and breads, raw side salads and even a plan for a hay box, the low tech equivalent of the modern slow cooker. This is something that modern cookbooks, even the most thrift minded, do not take into account, because today cooking represents such a small percentage of our home energy use. Except it doesn't, when you take into account that the majority of cooks now have fridges, freezers, blenders, processors, toasters, juicers, coffee machines, microwaves, slow cookers, electric carving knives, breadmakers and deepfat fryers at their disposal.

This happens to be an area of home energy use I would like to tackle. It began when I realised that my oven only had one shelf that could actually cook food, the shelf underneath burns anything to a crisp if it is placed within 15 cm of the heating element in the bottom of the oven. It is the middle of summer and I do not need to heat my entire house up via the incredibly inefficient means of a poorly insulated electric oven with leaky seals. Which means my old style bread making and baking routines will have to be put on the back burner (no pun intended) until the chillier nights of autumn. For the next few months we will be using the hob; and preferably one ring at a time.

The summer months are the perfect time, I realise, to do away with the oven. Salad ingredients are in abundance and low or no-cook meals are the key to lots of hours lazing in the garden watching the sun go down. They go better with a chilled glass of wine or homebrew lager.

Today I cooked oatmeal cakes on the griddle pan (a recipe from The Victory Cookbook). We have breakfasted on pancakes and made flat breads to go with soup. I have gone from hating my griddle pan (possibly because I never really got the hang of using it for anything other than making charcoal out of batter mix) to adoring it. It is impossible to cook anything overly complicated on a griddle, but the simple food it can produce can be delicious.I love the fact that I could pack it in my knapsack and take it camping too, or stick it on the barbeque.

In late autumn, that period of blustery days and cool nights that demands soups and the odd casserole, I plan to construct a hay box, which sounds like an even lazier method of cooking than the griddle. I had been considering buying an electric slow cooker for a while, but would have to work 6 hours to buy a half decent one and I wouldn't really save fuel costs if the thing is on for 10 hours. I will instead invest 8 hours hard labour into buying a pressure cooker that will cook my pulses in half the time, heat up my meals ready for the haybox, and pressure-can all those pickles I plan on getting around to making 'some day'... I hate those words.

Building a library

2010-07-21T22:19:00.000+01:00

I grew up in a home with hundreds, if not thousands, of books. I used to think that it was sacrilege to throw a book out, or to 'deface' them by making notes in the margins. GCSE English Literature was two years of hell for me, being forced as I was to scrawl interpretive notes in the margins of some of the finest works in the English language.

I have changed my tune in the last few years. I have sold many books that I had never got around to reading, not least because it earned me a few much needed pennies. Now I am at the stage where I am editing my bookshelves to reflect the person I am hoping to become and the the lifestyle I want to lead. The magazines have already gone, now its time to get started on weightier tomes.

Whilst we have a collection of good fiction books that we will read again and again, the main focus of our shelves is non-fiction. I always considered myself a bit of a scholar and these shelves used to house a lot of theory and discourse on politics, environment and science, many of them from my university days. I couldn't bear to part with them. I now realise that it is all well and good, but a shelf full of theory and discourse is useless until you have a couple of shelves dedicated to the nitty gritty of everyday life - cleaning, cooking, sewing on a button, growing a garden, building a community.

The tone of those books has to be take into account too. There is a lady, lets call her Martha, who has made a career out of teaching people how to make a home and garden and an awesome scrapbook of holiday memories, whilst waiting for the cupcakes to cool and the hand dyed silk gift ribbons to dry. Which is cool. It is good that one of the TV icons of the modern world is basically a TV homemaker. I have bought a few of her books and enjoy perusing her website.

But now I am considering selling them. Because in a lower energy future, the kind of domestic organisation and tweaking that Martha advocates isn't going to survive the cut. Not everyone can maintain their house as a boutique hotel when unsupported by cheap energy and cut price imported wicker baskets and Dymo labellers. I am sure that Martha will adapt. She may even lead again.She is keen on Organic gardening, real food, natural cleaning products and handicrafts. All essential skills when we (the developed nations) don't have every other continent furnishing our rapacious appetites. But the tone and the ingredients and the energy inputs will have to be adapted to a lower consumption reality.

And so my bookshelf is adapting. It looks rather a lot like the bookshelf we had when I was a child - knitting, crocheting, sewing, cooking, foraging, brewing, wine making,baking, DIYing and gardening. The cookbooks have been whittled down to a mere dozen, with a focus on seasonal, nutrient dense (and low down the food chain) foods with low-energy prepartion methods (none of that, by the way, translates as 'tasteless' or 'inedible' or even 'boring'). There are some 'theory' books - a few permaculture texts, a few books that give the 'why' as well as the 'how'. I am looking forward to reading all of these with fresh eyes and scribbling my own thoughts in the margins...I might even take some post it notes, or even a highlighter to some of them!

The beach

2010-07-19T14:47:00.002+01:00

Today we went to the beach for an impromptu picnic, with last nights leftovers and a freshly made salad. We love this beach. It is a rarity in that it is vegetated shingle - there are very few parts of the world where shingle beach is stable enough to allow the few specially adapted plants that can live on it to thrive. The photos are ones that I took a few weeks ago and I will probably post plenty more, because the beach changes with the seasons and looks beautiful all year round.

A year or so ago a letter turned up in the local paper from a woman suggesting that the council should have gone out and cleared all the 'weeds' because it would encourage more tourists to use it, that the beach was somehow a disgrace to Portsmouth. This woman could not see the beach for the beauty of the stately pale green sea kale bending with the breeze. The mauves, the greens, the blues, the pinks and yellows of the vegetation against an ever changing sky. The birds that this habitat supports. She couldn't even see that the vegetation provided a further layer of sea defence for a city that sits barely above sea level. Apparently the tens of people scattered along the beach enjoying the relative tranquilty (to the 'tourist' beach a mile down the coast) were not enough for this woman; she would not be happy until the entire beach looked like Brighton on a bank holiday weekend.

I think that that woman was wrong.

So did someone else:

Memorial benches line the promenade, as they do in most seaside towns. They are poignant reminders on sunny days of the brevity of life and what really matters. Someone took a lot of time to decorate this bench with knitted panels (looped through and stitched at the back). At first I thought it was a totally awesome bit of random knit graffiti, until I saw the top middle panel, which had 'Isobel' stitched in pearl beading, the name the bench is dedicated to.

I think that when I go, I would like a bench overlooking the sea someplace; and I would like some good crafty friends to come and embellish it once in a while, to remind others to stop and look at the flowers and feel the breeze on their skin; and be filled with thanks that they are alive.

Peak denial

2010-07-16T13:54:00.000+01:00

"But let’s be perfectly honest: Any steps we might take to prepare for a potential environmental, societal, or economic disruption, no matter how grand, are nearly certain to be insufficient. Nevertheless, they are still necessary. They will be insufficient because being perfectly prepared is infinitely expensive. But actions are necessary because they help us align our lives with what we know about the world. In my experience, when gaps exist between knowledge and actions, anxiety (if not fear) is the result. So it’s not the state of the world that creates the anxiety quite as much as it is someone’s lack of action."

-Chris Martenson in Resilience: Personal Preparation (The Post Carbon Reader Series: Building Resilience)

In 2006 I first came across the concept of 'Peak Oil', first from an article in National Geographic and then through 'The Party's Over' by Richard Heinberg. It is an excellent introduction to peak oil theory and I highly recommend it as a starting point. Where initially I had enthusiasm for preparing and reskilling for a powered down future, in recent months I have been steering clear of anything related to peak oil, climate change and financial meltdown. Quite frankly, it all got too much and it left me almost paralysed with foreboding and despondency.

It becomes hard to to ignore something when it goes mainstream. At the same time as I was trying my best to pretend the issues away, this report was launched, not from the usual suspects, but from some of the largest corporations and businesses in the UK. This was followed swiftly by dire warnings from the US military and the British governments former chief science advisor David King who was scathing about our approach to energy security. Still, I have persevered with my magical thinking.

Unfortunately my blue sky approach has just hit a storm front in the form of this report from Lloyd's of London. I haven't waded through it yet and I probably never will, but the fact it comes from the heart of La-La land (that'll be the City), it is a wake up call just for its very existence. Its existence, combined with the horrifying images coming from the Gulf of Mexico over the last few months; and the tales of financial woe coming from regular people on some of the forums I visit; has led me to re question my attitudes.

My wake up call was followed by a period of anxiety for the future. The quote from Chris Martenson (creator of The Crash Course) sums up my mood. I realised that as a family unit, we were not doing what we needed to do with the knowledge that we have. I wasn't entirely sure that my OH and I were even singing from the same hymn sheet - he is a total petrol head and is more likely to be found on PistonHeads (I'm not even going to countenance it with a hyperlink) looking for old fuel guzzling bangers than The Oil Drum looking for crude production statistics.

Yesterday we sat down and had a short chat. I started by asking him what kind of world we would be living in as Gus grew up. We agreed that we had probably reached, or were close to peak oil production. We agreed that the climate was changing and that food and political security were uncertain. We agree that the West's time as the global superpower was over and that whatever is left over will be going east. We envisioned that within the next 10 years, there will probably be oil shocks, blackouts and economic hardship for many people. We agreed that people that "could never live without their hair straighteners/mobile/weekly nail appointment" would probably learn to. We agreed that technology would adapt, but the level of energy use and convenience provided by the oil binge we have been on would never be matched. Our vision of the future looks somewhere between the home front of WWII and the appropriate technology experiments of the 1970s, hopefully with the internet and progressive attitudes thrown in. We both agreed that the future was not destined to be apocalyptic.

I feel better, because I know that we both broadly agree where the world is going. Which means that we will be able to broach the subject (in all fairness, it will probably be me doing all the broaching...at least until PistonHeads shuts down) with each other and make plans and changes as as and before the need arises.

I will document what we are up to in this blog, which is probably going to take a slightly different direction to the one that I was expecting. Simplifying doesn't necessarily mean powered down, but with a bit of extra thought it can be just that.

Taking stock

2010-07-13T14:33:00.005+01:00

There are a few stragglers around the house. I know I am missing a few dishcloths and definitely a crochet blanket I am working on. Now I have taken stock, I realise that not buying any more craft materials until I have used up what I have won't actually be so hard.

I can't believe just how many WIPS and UFOs I have. I would have estimated seven, it turns out there are closer to fifteen. Some will be finished in the next few months, some will be frogged and the yarn salvaged for reuse. Whilst I feel a tad guilty about the money this yarn represents, I am dead excited by all the wonderful textures and colours I have to pick and choose from. I might even get around to designing a few patterns of my own which I have wanted to do for a long time.

My pretties are now sorted into bags and boxes and stowed away safely. I now know why Ravelry includes that 'Stash' tab. I might be making use of it, now I realise I have such a stash to keep track of. I have chucked all of the scraps and poor quality yarns that I will never get around to to using. I still have a big bag of tangled yarn given to me by my friends mum; eventually I will sort through it with a knitting friend and see what we can do with it.

Of course, if yarn companies would stop producing such yummy yarns and wafting them under my nose, this wouldn't even be a problem...(whistle and wander away nonchalantly, neglecting to mention that there is also the sewing stash, the paper stash, the bead stash...).

Holiday

2010-07-12T23:47:00.000+01:00

This week has been a holiday week. I actually worked my regular hours whilst my OH took the week off and entertained family who came down for Goodwood. Whilst wistfully staring out of my office window, thinking about the rest of my family (and it seems, the rest of the nation) who were out picnicing and paddling and generally chilling, I had time to mull a few things over.

First, I realised that I am rubbish at booking holiday. I have used about 3 days of my allowance this year so far and have nothing booked. I always end up saving it because I know it causes my boss hassle to cover it and it generally causes grief to whichever colleagues get left short staffed that partcular day. It sucks, however, because I know deep down I prioritise not wanting to cause a little bit of work for others way above taking time out for myself and my family.

I also thought long and hard about how much I enjoy the days off I have; and I realise that the answer is actually 'very little'. I end up focusing on the things I hate doing and seem to have very little time for the things that I would love to do. My life is filled with too much routine and drabness, which is about as far as you can get from the life I always envisioned for myself and my family when I was growing up. Whilst I am beginning to appreciate the importance of some routines (life is more enjoyable, for example, when you keep on top of the housework and laundry pile), I realise that days can go by without me learning anything new.

I have now requested some holiday for later in the year and resolve to be less kind to my (admittedly lovely) boss and request holiday to suit myself and not feel guilty about it. I still managed a few trips out this week, which were fun, because I was forced to actually do things that were life and knowledge expanding; and spent time in good company. My 22 month old son sees the world with such wonder (his current most used word is 'Wowwwwww') and is always looking for new things to explore; I don't see why adults should be any different. If we were focused on the things that matter and were seeing the world clearly, we should probably be saying 'Wow' several times a day. Anything else is a waste of a life.

A bid for freedom

2010-07-05T14:49:00.003+01:00

Last month we managed to pay off over £500 off debt. This included a couple of hundred pounds to close a credit card, a regular loan payment and dribs and drabs to various other accounts. To get to the stage where we could pay off so much in one month and not be totally deprived is wonderful.

A few years ago, before the credit crunch, we were bobbing along paying off just the minimum payments and going into our overdrafts every month. Around 2006, I remember seeing the front page of The Economist magazine. I knew nothing of finance and economics back then, but I remember the title splashed across a row of foreclosed cartoon McMansions was something along the lines of 'Time's up for the American housing bubble'. I remember it gave me an uneasy feeling, not least because we as a nation tend to follow where the US leads on just about everything, bonkers financial models included.

At around the same time I came across the concept of peak oil, in National Geographic of all places. The more I read, the more I realised that we were heading into a period of huge financial instability. I began to take debts more seriously; but whilst a step in the right direction, our efforts were half hearted. Falling pregnant with Gus, whilst a shock, was actually our saving grace. We ploughed our efforts into paying off debts, moving them around to zero interest deals and paying a small amount into savings each month. We are aiming to have cleared the remaining credit card and overdraft by the end of 2010, and perhaps pay off the loan early if it is cost effective to do so.

To get to this point, our mindset has had to drastically change:

I think the most valuable thing that we have done is to write a realistic budget. We have been doing this seriously since february and it is in this period that we have paid off the most debt, which can't be coincidental.

We pay extra debt repayments at the beginning of the month, before we have a chance to fritter away the money.

We generally withdraw cash to pay for everyday things instead of using a card. This makes it easier to shop in our local grocers and we do spend smaller amounts at a time. I still have the bizarre idea that it isn't fair on the shop to spend less than a fiver on my card, which as the big chains don't charge for small amounts, is absolute madness on my part.

We do an online shop every 2-3 months for our bulk goods. I started doing this in the run up to giving birth, we stocked up on dry goods and 200 tins of cat food (I kid not) so that we didn't have to do much shopping in those first few months with a new baby. It worked out brilliantly. I hate supermarkets, I hate spending money on petrol to travel to supermarkets and I like having everything on hand that I need to prepare a meal and get me through a few lean weeks if need be (and look at the panic buying that ensured following the snow last winter). I also don't impulse buy when I shop online.

We now buy the best quality we can afford, or we buy second hand, we freecycle and most importantly...

...we ask ourselves whether we need the thing in the first place. Less stuff = less stuff to maintain and less clutter.

We eat very little meat and lots of pulses and eggs and things. Vegetarian is definitely cheaper. I have also started to work out what constitutes a healthy portion of something so that we waste less and still get everything we need from our food.

Scones I made for Father's day

We cook a lot from scratch.

We save our pennies, literally, in a glass flagon on the mantelpiece. As a result of usually withdrawing cash to pay for things, there is always change left over; and it is amazing how quickly it tots ups. In the aftermath of the bank run on Northern Rock I think it is a good idea to always have some cash in the house.

I read forums, such as the Old Style Money Saving board over at MSE, which are invaluable for support and ideas. Blogs such as Down To Earth and Tipnut are full of good ideas too. Having a few flesh and bone friends around you who are interested in a more frugal and sustainable way of life is a bonus if you can find them (or convert them!).

There are many things we can improve on and we still have a way to go. So my money saving goals to the end of 2010 are:

I will take a packed lunch into work. This brilliant tool has told me that not only would I save about £450 pounds a year, but that that £450 represents 1.5 weeks of my working life. I will also make sure I have sweet treats and baked goods around the house so that we do not go out and impulse buy.

I will start making my own laundry powder again. I used to do it to wash Gus's nappies and saved a pretty penny, then just got out of the habit. I am actually pretty good on the green cleaning front though. Admittedly it only saves a few pounds a year, but that is better than nothing and I find it fun in a geeky way.

I will work through the craft stash that I have before I buy any more. I will also start creatively recycling as much as I can so that I have craft materials to work with.

Salvaging seed beads from my favourite, but unfortunately worn out, bag.

I will look carefully at our energy usage and try to cut back. I particularly want to make sure that we use less heating in winter, which means a bit of DIY and sewing over the next few months.

I have many things that I want to achieve and these money saving ones overlap with many of my other goals. But ultimately, having no debts means that we are in effect, free human beings - which is a good place to begin a new life from.

Now the nights are drawing in...

2010-07-01T00:27:00.000+01:00

It must be a week now since the solstice? I can feel a nip in the air, I swear...

This is the jumper I have been planning to make for my darling OH for the last 12 months and today I managed to find the perfect yarn. I am not unfortunately of unlimited funds when it comes to yarn and aran can be pricey, but this was 40% off and so I jumped at it. It has brightly coloured 'nebs' spun into the charcoal grey yarn and is a beautifully soft wool/alpaca/synthetic mix.

Today I visited my local yarn shop. This weekend it closes its doors for the last time and my local community becomes a little less complete. I am sad, not least because an independent shop has closed, but also because in those early lonely months with a new baby, the odd visit to that shop kept me sane. I think it can only be a good sign that it is closing for personal reasons and not due to the recession that is killing off so many other retailers. It must mean that people are relearning old skills and spending their money accordingly, which can only be a good thing. In an age of passive consumption, the sense of satisfaction and security that being able to make something for yourself gives is priceless.

This month I have visited the shop a couple of times to stock up and take advantage of some of the clearance offers. In addition to the aran, I purchased ten balls of Sublime extra fine merino DK in various colours (so soft and richly coloured, it is wonderful to knit with) and some 4-ply cotton to crochet and knit some more dishcloths, which are unfortunately far too addictive.

I now regret buying some purely synthetic yarn to make a jumper for my son. Whilst its quite good quality as synthetics go, I know that when knitted into a garment it will pill and stretch too readily. I read an interesting article (whilst chopping up my magazines) about 'Precycling', which basically means to avoid waste altogether by thinking long and hard about what you consume before you even consume it; and making wise choices (along the lines of reduce, reuse, recycle) after you take possession of it. In future I will make sure that I buy as hard wearing and classic a yarn as I can afford so that when the original garment is worn out after many years of use I can frog it or felt it and turn it into something else. The gift of yarn that just keeps on giving!

Everything is green

2010-06-29T21:44:00.001+01:00

This year I was determined to get more out of the garden than a few mushy courgettes. We don't have tons of space, but having lived in a garden-less studio flat previously, I count my blessings in this small yard with its single raised bed. I figure that if I can make a go of this space, then I will be skilled up for when I get my acre!

Our yard faces east. The raised bed is partially shadowed by a wall and by the holly tree. I decided to stock this with as many perennials and easy annuals as I could, just to stop our (and the entire neighbourhood's) cats digging it over. So far I have planted sage, variegated sage, french tarragon, lemon balm, parsley, chives, nigella, honeysuckle, monbretia, clematis, calendula and a pale pink climbing rose that I am hoping will fill a gap in the privet hedge. There are a few gaps to fill with annual vegetables too, this year with courgettes.

The pots are devoted to annual vegetables. If I had been a bit more organised pehaps I could have made them even more productive, but it has been fun experimenting. I am delighted with my tomatoes, I have 'Purple Calabash' and 'Marmande Super' just starting to set fruit! There is also a huckleberry, some garlic and onions, sunflowers, potatoes, jerusalem artichoke, sweet peppers, oca, salad leaves and perpetual spinach. I am also experimenting with a loofah and some black eyed beans, but fear that I didn't get them started early enough, even if the English climate could support them through to a harvest! Indoors on my dining room windowsill I also have tomatillo, cape gooseberry and aubergine which I am hoping survive an aphid infestation.

We have spent about £130 on the garden since we moved in over two years ago. That has mostly been on masonry paint, compost, tools, plants and seeds. With the exception of the brightly coloured 'gorilla tubs', all of the planters and pots have come from Freecycle, been pulled from skips, found fly-tipped or pulled from neighbours refuse before the bin men got there. The water butt came free from the local water company as we are in a drought prone region.

This week I will sow some late greens, as well as a few winter veg, which I haven't tried before. The Broad beans I planted are too far gone and so I will let them dry out and save the seed to pass on. I think that they have been a waste of space in terms of yield vs. space they occupy, delicious as they are. I also need to trim the privet hedge back before it smothers everything with fallen petals. I personally have a love-hate relationship with the thing, but the poor put upon bumble bees seem to love it; and as a mere human, I realise that they are more productive creatures than I can ever hope to be!

The joy of not spending.

2010-06-25T15:08:00.000+01:00

The birth of our son meant that we have had to economise over the last few years. Lots of charity shop shopping, painting of second hand furniture, container veg growing, crafting, freecycling, home brewing and home cooking. It has actually made for a more fulfilling life – we are constantly learning, being more creative and becoming more confident and self reliant. We have saved money, which has allowed us to pay off debts accrued in the dumb years (as I shall now fondly refer to them) much faster.

I still struggle with buying stuff. A few weeks ago I was lusting after some glass storage jars. I have a few Le Parfait jars I bought a few years back. They are beautiful, functional and sturdy - but I have better things to spend a fiver on at the moment.

So instead of buying the jars, I asked the lady at the local chip shop to save me her pickle jars. She only gets through a jar every few weeks these days as pickles have fallen out of favour to mushy peas and curry sauce. But she saved me these two. They hold about 2.5 litres each, are robust and quite attractive sitting in the cupboard filled with barley and pasta. They have saved me about £4.50 a pop for the equivalent sized Le Parfait jars. Thats about 45 minutes worth of real hourly wages for one jar. It also kept them from the recycling plant for another few years.

One day I may have free reign to spend money on stuff that brings me joy, earned through paid work that brings me joy. When I get there, I suspect that I still won't want to buy so much - instead I will want to buy life experiences - travel, learning, a home of our own, a business. The mindset I am developing now will hopefully get us to that point a little faster - and stand us in good stead for a future that is looking rather more austere (if this week's emergency budget is anything to go by) than the last few years of excess.

Valuable information?

2010-06-22T23:33:00.001+01:00

Over the last few years I have developed a terrible habit of buying 'lifestyle' magazines. Its a wasteful habit, and I realise now that I may as well have been buying packets of cigarettes for the good it has done me. Yesterday evening I audited my collection. I skimmed through them and ripped out the pages that I could use in my life; the rest I put out for recycling. I have reduced a 20 strong stack of glossy magazines to a collection of paper that measures 1cm thick, when folded in half. That is how much value I got out of thousands of pages and approximately £70 of investment.

A magazine is in effect a fixed bundle; you buy one article, you buy all (and you will at least skim them all, because you want to get your money's worth). There is not a single 'women's' magazine on the market that I think can be described as a quality publication. Almost every other page is a targeted advert for a product that will probably not serve your needs (if such a need even exists – if it doesn't the ad will create one in your mind). The pages in between are too often filled with naive journalism that neither serves the reader, the journalist or the often downtrodden subject of the 'special report' or 'real life insider'. The high maintenance interiors and fashion, whilst beautifully staged, don't actually reflect a life of leisure and real beauty (unless you have staff of course).

The only magazine I can say that I have collected that I have truly loved was National Geographic. I was given a massive vintage collection as a child and was hooked. It opened up worlds I never knew existed and its breadth and depth I credit with making me a more informed, well rounded and worldly (and naturally modest...) adult. It is however an expensive investment, both in monetary and reinforced shelving terms; and alas I had to let it go a few years ago. I wish I had a photo of that wall of yellow spines that still sits back home!

There is no 'women's' magazine that will do that for you. There aren't even many specialist hobby and craft magazines that will do that. I have some craft magazines of my mothers from the 1970s that, whilst slim part-works, have more in-depth, useful information (and zero craft brand/product/crafting celebrity) in each feature than modern craft magazines have in a whole issue. Sure, you may find the odd recipe that you like; the odd picture that brightens your day; the odd craft pattern. But ultimately, on a 12 monthly cycle, the same ideas, the same features, the same themes come up again and again, packaged in different colours and fonts. Those magazines are an expensive form of escapism. They appeal because they often engender a feeling of belonging, that you are doing and buying and experiencing the 'right' things, the same things as other people are doing.

There are more rewarding and cost effective ways to feel informed, connected and authentic than that. A visit to the library or a second hand book store, a google search, a chat with a friend; and saving those pounds that you would have spent on a glossy magazine to buy a good book or a quality tool or ingredient that will help you on your way to a more authentic life.

I bought a jam skimmer in a charity shop for 50p yesterday. How stoked am I? 50p I didn't spend on an airbrushed picture of Jane Fonda selling snake oil, wedged between a few bland recipes 'updated' by celebrity chefs? Stoked!!! I think I have learnt my lesson.

Making my own life work

2010-06-19T23:01:00.002+01:00

A few years ago, I was in a truly bad place. I had many drains on my energy; many of them in the form of 'friends', many of them from my own imagination (the drains, not the friends, that is!). I had failed to live up to the standards I had set for myself, or at least, the standards I thought were my own. Over the last few years, several events have transformed my view of the world and my place within it. The financial instability of the last few years combined with my increasing awareness of issues such as peak oil would have normally paralysed me with hopelessness and fear. Fortunately for me, my son arrived at the height of the chaos. There is nothing like being responsible for a baby human to make me buck up my ideas, apparently!

A person whose writings have helped me greatly is this wonderful lady. Her blog is a treasure trove not just of practical information, but also of inspiration and food for thought. She argues the case for voluntary simplicity and authenticity beautifully. She is not the only one of course, but her blog is an excellent starting point for those who feel something is missing in their overly hectic lives.

I want this blog to record my own thoughts, ideas and research on how to live a good life. Writing this post has allowed me to think about where I am coming from and where I will be going next. I still often feel that my life doesn't work as well as everyone else's. I have a natural tendency to dreaminess, an aversion to scheduling; and a far too strong inclination towards despondency. I still do not have great routine, laundry piles up and I find it hard to clear the kitchen sides after I have worked on them. I realise that my life would work a lot more smoothly if I could cut the clutter, prioritise and plan ahead; and in general be more hopeful and joyful. So my life is still; and ever will be; a work in progress - but I hope that I become more beautiful and refined as time goes by!

Salad Days

2010-06-18T22:12:00.004+01:00

In an occasional nod to my nations culinary heritage, I whip up a 'traditional British salad', as my mummy made, consisting of a small amount of limp lettuce, a few soft tomatoes and half an overly bitter cucumber (perhaps even some grated carrot or vacuum packed beetroot that will irreversibly dye the whole salad, your table linen, your clothes and anything else that it touches bright pink), dressed with a liberal helping of salad cream. I think the last time I did it was Christmas 2005; and I've not gone there since.

No, normally when I make a salad, I make something wholesome and satisfying:

The picture doesn't do it justice. This salad deserved better light (more salady sunshine, less overcast skies) and a photographer with 20:20 vision that had a clue how to operate the auto-focus on her other half's fancy pants SLR.

I have found that feeding two adults who work crazy shift patterns and a voracious toddler healthy meals on a daily basis can get a bit trying. Making up a batch of salad every so often feeds us for two days, home or away. I use the portion guide here when measuring out my quantities. My salad will always include at least one grain (unless I know I can serve it with bread or crackers); one pulse or other protein source; two or three portions of fruit or veg; occasionally some nuts or seeds; and an oil based dressing with as many flavours as I can get away with...

Today's offering fed us our evening meal; and tomorrow will feed OH and the Boy at home and me at work.

Barley bean salad: Serves 5 (or in this case 4 adult servings, 2 for littl'un)

For the salad:

200g (dry weight) pearl barley, cooked with a bay leaf until tender, rinsed
200g (dry weight) black turtle beans, soaked and cooked until tender (not mushy!), rinsed.
1 large onion
250g green beans (frozen in this instance, ahem), just-cooked
4 large tomatoes

For the dressing:

4 Tbsp olive oil
3 Tbsp red wine vinegar
2 chopped garlic cloves
Approx 1 heaped Tbsp each chopped fresh tarragon and parsley
1 teaspoon chopped fresh sage
1/4 teaspoon mustard powder
1/2 teaspoon soft brown sugar
Salt and black pepper to taste

Whilst the barley and beans cool, mix the dressing ingredients in a lidded jar and shake vigorously until thoroughly combined. Leave to one side. Medium dice the tomatoes and onions. Chop the green beans into one inch lengths. Combine all three together in a large bowl. When the barley and beans are sufficiently cool, add them to the bowl. Shake the dressing again and pour over the salad. Mix thoroughly. The salad will last for 2 days if refrigerated.

The community orchard

2010-06-16T15:22:00.000+01:00

This morning we went to the community orchard. I will post pictures soon because I cannot convey just how beautiful a space the orchard is. It is still a work in progress and has only been running for a couple of months, but it is glorious.

It is open to everyone and provides a lush green space in a very crowded city for green fingered people to get their hands dirty. There are numerous fruit trees, fruit bushes, vines, herbs, wild flowers and raised vegetable beds. There is an arbour, plenty of benches and patches of grass to lay down a picnic rug.

I am looking forward to spending time there. Whilst I am very grateful to have a small paved yard at home, I have stuffed that as full as is physically possible with pots. There are new and unusual plants at the orchard that I want to get to know as friends. I want my son to grow up with an appreciation of where his food comes from (unfortunately the hose and loose bricks of the unfinished paths are much more interesting to a 20 month old!). I also hope that a wonderful community grows up around the garden as more and more people realise what a wonderful resource it is and volunteer their time.