Ah yes, the day on which the little darlings - under strict supervision and muttering "it's only a made-up holiday anyway" reluctantly drag up breakfast in bed (fruit salad, malted wheatflakes and cream) and present one gruffly with flowers, cards, and a DVD... Ned's home made card said U Luv Me on it - a slightly bewildering sentiment for the day, but no matter... perhaps he wanted reassurance. I was able to reassure him that Mother's day had medieval religious roots - and that it was American Mother's Day that was made up,. Recently he has begun to notice that I know more than him about certain things - and has actually deferred to me occasionally. It is still a delight when he is the one who knows - he loves explaining the history of some band, or the back story to Kerouac's writing, or Charles Bukowski's life story. I'm learning too.
Then I got up and made a cake for them - a new recipe which is not quite to my liking - it works, just. Then Stella arrives and we progress to the Harbour Brasserie where a brisk wind is whipping the waves around us as we sit, and the condensation on the windows gradually obscures the 300 degree views of said waves. We ate the usual Harbour Bra mix of very nice things with very inadequate things - unfortunately Mark and Stella got the rough end of the pineapple - their lamb was tough and the dauphinoise was undercooked. My bouillabaisse was quite nice, if not exactly a totally mediteranean experience - could have done with some rouille I think (or maybe that's just served with fish soup). On this occasion the wine was cold which was a great help. I am not going to list all the things that were wrong - but I am not impressed with the Harbour Bra... in future it's for drinks only I think - or maybe a single plate of food - but I'm not going to trust them with a full meal again. Shame really.
We came home - ate tea and cake - then minestrone and cheese (a greatly superior selection to what we had in the HBra) and saw some slides. M found some from about 1961 - of Ireland, very beautiful - all the children looking adorable, Stella looking glamorous, everyone happy. Then saw slides of 2002 - including a great many of the masonry of Richborough Fort (taken on a trip to scope out Ramsgate), and lots of the boys with hideous haircuts (my hairdressing skills never advanced - it was a money saving measure) - pictures of their school nativity plays at St. George's - and the boys complained about the hideous clothes they were wearing: plaid shirts, brightly coloured fleeces and chinos - not so different from what they wear now...there was a picture of me and the boys sitting by the window in our old kitchen. I felt a bit of a pang. Our kitchen here is so huge that I am almost overwhelmed by it, so cold that it never feels cosy, and so damp that there is mould. However, today we acquired a new fan - so things should improve, as long as I remember to turn it on.
Today was full on work. I've spent a lot of the weekend fretting about the story. I've finally "got" what JM meant about the story - how the scenes should contribute to the story - rather than just be an amusing expatiation on what I want to write about. So darlings are being slain and falling by the wayside. I may even finally have to remove some of the much loved historical material. Going back to snip some more away. Down to 111,000 words from 116,000 - but also have a few tucked away to add... it WILL be shorter.
Then I got up and made a cake for them - a new recipe which is not quite to my liking - it works, just. Then Stella arrives and we progress to the Harbour Brasserie where a brisk wind is whipping the waves around us as we sit, and the condensation on the windows gradually obscures the 300 degree views of said waves. We ate the usual Harbour Bra mix of very nice things with very inadequate things - unfortunately Mark and Stella got the rough end of the pineapple - their lamb was tough and the dauphinoise was undercooked. My bouillabaisse was quite nice, if not exactly a totally mediteranean experience - could have done with some rouille I think (or maybe that's just served with fish soup). On this occasion the wine was cold which was a great help. I am not going to list all the things that were wrong - but I am not impressed with the Harbour Bra... in future it's for drinks only I think - or maybe a single plate of food - but I'm not going to trust them with a full meal again. Shame really.
We came home - ate tea and cake - then minestrone and cheese (a greatly superior selection to what we had in the HBra) and saw some slides. M found some from about 1961 - of Ireland, very beautiful - all the children looking adorable, Stella looking glamorous, everyone happy. Then saw slides of 2002 - including a great many of the masonry of Richborough Fort (taken on a trip to scope out Ramsgate), and lots of the boys with hideous haircuts (my hairdressing skills never advanced - it was a money saving measure) - pictures of their school nativity plays at St. George's - and the boys complained about the hideous clothes they were wearing: plaid shirts, brightly coloured fleeces and chinos - not so different from what they wear now...there was a picture of me and the boys sitting by the window in our old kitchen. I felt a bit of a pang. Our kitchen here is so huge that I am almost overwhelmed by it, so cold that it never feels cosy, and so damp that there is mould. However, today we acquired a new fan - so things should improve, as long as I remember to turn it on.
Today was full on work. I've spent a lot of the weekend fretting about the story. I've finally "got" what JM meant about the story - how the scenes should contribute to the story - rather than just be an amusing expatiation on what I want to write about. So darlings are being slain and falling by the wayside. I may even finally have to remove some of the much loved historical material. Going back to snip some more away. Down to 111,000 words from 116,000 - but also have a few tucked away to add... it WILL be shorter.
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