All the wives

While V had a day of Olympic tennis the kid and I stayed home to clean and polish and play and cook. We had a very busy Saturday.

Still trying to get through my resolution of de-cluttering (get over it already 30in2005, I hear you say), we decided to tackle the books once the polishing was done!

Children's books first - managed to separate about 20 books that he has outgrown. Mine were a bit harder to deal with because I already gave away 120 books over December and January.

At first glance it seemed like I had pruned enough. But as I went through my bookshelves with a stricter eye I have myself a new rule. I would only keep a book that I had re-read or had every intention to do so. If only to find one line or page that meant something to me. A quick read of the book jackets would have to be enough to stir my memory of the story and tell me if I wanted to keep it. So that is what I did. With so many books to go through it took it's time and I have only managed to get through about half. And so far about 20 books have made their way to our hallway, sitting bravely in a pile waiting for new homes, new readers.

Interestingly I found a pile of books with each title including the word wife or wives. Took a picture (I'm getting better at this documenting of my mundane life) - here it is. Any guesses as to which ones I'm keeping and which I'm giving away? (a: top one, b c d e below it).

Haberdashery 2

I am so technologically challenged that I couldn't edit to add some pictures and text to my last post. Hence the new post.

I wish I had more nimble fingers and a creative mind. I have to resort to just browsing this twee little shop and enjoying the colours and simple order and higgledy piggledy ness of things in it - wierd how it manages to be both.

I've discovered how much I love independent shops. And even when I don't need anything I find myself buying something small just to support that effort.

Today my friend and I bought some large wooden letters to be painted by our kids on the next day in. The £1.50 for each will in fact buy us at least 20 minutes of activity, sticking, painting and talking about the alphabet with small whiny children while we lament the wind and rain. Some things are priceless.

Hello Olympics - 15

Amazing fireworks. Sorry about my rubbish camera phone - they were incredibly close and clear and spectacular but look fuzzy in the pictures.

It's been a remarkable opening ceremony for something so hotly anticipated. Unlike the previous perfectly choreographed opening at Beijing this was choreographed to seem more characterful and quirky. They got a lot in and it was incredible how much fun the participants looked like they were having.

We drank champagne and skipped between the TV and terrace to watch the bits inside the stadium and the changing lights and fireworks visible from where we stood. We ate and drank and chatted and critiqued and laughed and praised and sang/ hummed/ played at guessing songs.

About to go to bed now, the adrenaline rush from the excitement of the evening means I shall read till I unwind. If I haven't said it before I'll say it now - we are so incredibly lucky to have witnessed this. I love my London life.

Hello Olympics - 14

Torchbearers x 7 young athletes nominated by 7 Olympians. Brilliant idea. Gorgeous cauldron.

Hello Olympics - 13

Fireworks! I love my house!

Hello Olympics - 12

Ussain! Rockstar athlete!

Hello Olympics -11

India!

Hello Olympics - 10

Reflections of the tragic events of 7/7, the day after the Olympics were awarded to London 7 years ago.

Hello olympics - 9

The hilarious Rowan Atkinson - simply the best face ever!

Hello Olympics - 8

Mary Poppins.

Hello Olympics - 7

The NHS!

Hello Olympics - 6

James bond and the queen.

And the lights as Daniel Craig parachutes down.

Hello Olympics - 5

The rings.

Hello Olympics - 4

Industrial revolution. And feminism at the Olympics.

Hello Olympics - 3

Dinner is served.

Hello Olympics - 2

All the amazing yachts and super yachts in the dock by us. The buzz of people and machinery and adrenaline is palpable in the air.

Hello Olympics - 1

It's time! And we have a fab view from our home. We have friends round, snacks, champagne and a hearty if simple meal. Here goes:

This is the sky as the red arrows have gone by.

Haberdashery

One of the loveliest things about London - also one of the things that is rapidly disappearing - is the number of independent shops.

I'm not one for sewing or knitting (two pastimes oft pressed upon our summer vacations) but I absolutely love looking at the colours and orderliness of a haberdashers. The last one I went to was in John Lewis in Oxford street and that was about 9 years ago, in pursuit of white ribbons for a campaign I was involved in.

Wandered into the lovely Papillion in Greenwich days after it opened. It's an adorable little shop full of colour and creative ideas and managed by it's talented owner for most of the day. It has skeins of wool, ribbon, thread and fabric, all the accompaniments to create things from knotting and knitting needles to kits. It was a cheerful interlude on the way to the park, and I even bought some wooden letters to do a craft project with my son.

Don't know that I'll take up cross stitch again but I know where to look if I do.

Papillion: 90 College Approach, Greenwich SE10 9HY

An east end Saturday night

Went out for dinner with friends last night. Stuck to the bit of London I love most. Excellent meal at Upstairs at the Ten Bells. The buttermilk chicken with pine salt was divine and I could have gladly eaten those moreish bites all night.

Not the largest portions (and me, I am partial to comforting large bowls of food) but beautifully presented and absolutely delicious. Shabby chic with creaky old stairs and a high ceilinged room above the noisy pub. Very lovely attentive waiters and an ambience perfect for an evening out. Don't know that I would go back seeing as there is much more of London unexplored. But I would definitely recommend this to try.

37. In the real world.

Age has lowered my tolerance for a number of things. Included in this list are gigantic delicious meals (I can no longer do a buffet any justice) and people who think the world exists to serve their needs (I no longer seem to speak to 3 people who till very recently were pivotal to my life).

The food one is easy enough to solve - eat less, be healthier. The people one is trickier - after many many attempts to understand the others badly/ unexplained points of view I now have to stand my own ground and get on with my own life. While this is taking up more of my mind/ heart space than I would like, I feel like i have to stand by what I believe in or else who am I. Even though this makes me look and feel like a resident of Old Street (not the physical place but the mental space that older people seem to need to adjust to). I'm sad like you wouldn't believe but I'm also right in my own mind (or maybe just to old to alter my point of view) and nothing short of an apology or a change in behaviour will get me out of this mindset.

But enough of dwelling on this unhappiness. Today I'm 37. And I've had a lovely string of celebratory days since the beginning of July to mark it. I went for dinner with two friends from my local area to a favourite Japanese restaurant called Roka. Then last week I went for dinner with 6 mums in the neighborhood to a lovely Turkish deli. Last night V and I went for dinner to Goodmans - a wonderful steak place. Today after a lazy morning we went back to Roka for the sumptuous Sunday brunch. And this coming week I have dinner with my gals in the offing. If food could assure me of how wonderful a year lies ahead it's certainly trying it's very hardest.

I got a lovely pair of earrings and a necklace from a friend. Two cd's from another friend and books and a dvd from yet another set of lovelies. A whole new wardrobe (with no black!) is being bought bit by bit. I alone am propping up the online economy!

I must say I like being 37. It feels solid and substantial. I know what I've written makes me sounds stubborn and stagnant and securely old. But in reality what I am is surer and stronger and satisfied with my life. Happy 37th to me.

Three. Or Free

My son turned three on Friday. And compared to last years crazy playdate where 14 children and about 30 adults spent a Saturday at our house turning it inside out upside down, this year was tame as a goldfish going round it's bowl.

We had just 6 other kids, all within 5 months in age to him and all of whom live locally. We decorated simply with swirly yellow things hanging from the ceiling and lilac and yellow helium balloons floating amidst them.

As activities we had painting. Each child got a ceramic birdhouse and a tray of paints. And in the centre of our low plastic covered coffee table was a giant jar with about 40 different paintbrushes. When they were done with the birdhouses I gave them each a small square canvas with their names and the date on the side. With motherly supervision they each managed a lovely colorful hand print. I then acrylic sprayed everything on the balcony away from them so that the fumes wouldn't bother us. This made the colours pop and harden the paint against future exposure to water/ sun. Then they all went and jumped on the bed and scattered the contents of his toy boxes all over the house while I got lunch organised.

Our circular table had a pale yellow tablecloth with his wooden track encircling it. With a tunnel, bridge and toll gate for interest and every one of his wood engines on the track this made the table fairly interactive. We had square yellow paper plates, purple glasses, yellow cutlery and lilac napkins with sheep on them.

The cake was a marvelous train. We decided not to go for a Thomas the tank engine train as I imagined a mini meltdown involving a beloved character being cut. Instead My friend made this masterpiece - chocolate with sheet icing, Oreos for wheels and carriages piled high with m&m's. We also had a second cake, strawberry and marzipan, from Paul, which was not inflicted with spit from the mouths of 7 children blowing out candles with great vigour.

So the final menu was cake, fresh strawberries, chunks of cucumber, pots of yogurt, buttered bread and fresh salmon fishcakes to eat. For the adults a platter of cold cuts, baguette and cornichons. Juice for everyone.

Our return gift was the birdhouse and canvas each child had worked on, the reusable paint pots and a book individually chosen for each kid.

It was a small and intimate party. It was over in 3 hours from start to finish in the morning when the kids were in the best possible mood.

My son is three. Or as he yells 'free' while he tries to show us the correct number of fingers to accompany this announcement. Again and again. Loud louder loudest. As if if it is not said at the highest decibels we might not take this seriously.

Spending my morning with this bunch of little ones I fear we have moved on from the terrible twos only to land in the unknown but possibly terrifying threes! Wish me luck.

Motherland Motherlode - 2

It was apparent from numerous short forays in search of cold coffee that the many malls of Delhi were well equipped for the challenge.

Went for a wander one evening with a friend and while talking about how bloody expensive everything is and how the recession is a myth (kidding) and decided to stop for another cold coffee. This time in the middle of the mall, a counter surrounded by chairs and tables, no walls required.

This is what I saw. I had to try it. It was pretty gross.

Who do you think would be most offended by this, Italian chef or chettinad mami or punjabi tikka wielding folk? Or am I mistaken and all three would be willing embracers of such 'fusion' cuisine?

Jubilee celebrations

It's the long weekend in London, ostensibly to celebrate the Queen's diamond jubilee. Almost every person I know is away, including V (4 day dash to India). It's brilliant for most people, taking advantage of the four day weekend and half term next week. Most people have made a proper getaway of it.

The ones who stayed are all soaking wet standing by the Thames this afternoon watching the flotilla of a 1000 boats on the Thames to mark the day. Its been endless dripping showers since last night. Kid and I stayed home and watched the watery parade on TV, alternating with the French Open while playing with trains and doing endless craft things. And marvelling (not) at the constant rain.

But we aren't always this curmudgeonly. Yesterday we went to a  jubilee celebration BBQ lunch in a friends backyard. There was bunting, flags, colour coordinated crockery, cutlery and napkins and two desserts artfully made to look like the flag and a ship with the queen on it. Also loads of BBQ'ed meats and vegetables, coronation chicken, pimms punch, strawberries and champagne. We had a brilliant time even though it was quite windswept and the sun came out for exactly 45 seconds the entire afternoon.

In the run up to this weekend there have been a swathe of specially commissioned TV programmes and series about various monarchy related things. Some of these have been quite splendid - like the ones on each of the queens palaces. What I have discovered about myself though is that while I am deeply interested in the history of this and other countries I am not a royalist. So while I'm happy she is having her jubilee I am not committed enough to attend street parties or stand by the Thames waiting for her royal yatch to go by. I'll happily take the four day weekend, though in my world everyday is a working day (looking after a small child) or a holiday (looking after a small child) depending on whom you ask.

Happy jubilee (apparently that is the appropriate form of greeting).

Sunny day in the park

We spent the first true day of summer in Greenwich with the semblance of a picnic and our friends. It was hot and overcrowded. Most of the park has been shut off to build the equestrian arena for the upcoming Olympics. This is both inconvenient and an eyesore.

Even though we mostly had fun running around aimlesslessly and eating sandwiches, by the end of the day we were all overheated and grumpy.

Spanish food for 21

It's 21 years to the day that V and I first met.

Unlike normal anniversary celebrations (ie wedding and date we began dating - the latter much disputed!) we normally make it a point to have a meal on or around this day just to reminisce about our own little story of 'jab we met'. Of course it's only really me that wants the walk down memory lane. V would just like that glass of wine and a discussion about something sports or kid related. I win the battle and like the well trained spouse he is he hears me out patiently and tweaks the story back into reality when I get carried away.

Today we both ate Spanish food. The difference is that I had it at La Tasca and he at Iberica. I was with three lovelies - Broom, Uttara from Likhati and the visiting Rohini from mamasaysso. He is with his office colleagues.

We picked the date for various reasons and he was meant to come home and babysit our sleeping child. But as luck would have it visiting colleagues have meant that he needed to attend drinks and dinner. So our babysitter stepped in while we both went to our seperate dinners. I wore the seed pearl necklace, his first ever gift of jewelry to me.

Dinner at La Tasca is always an enjoyable experience. I don't profess to know much about Spanish cuisine beside the fact that I like chorizo very very much. But the tapas at La Tasca is varied and quite delicious. It rarely disappoints. From the white fish to the patata bravas, from the calamari to the chorizo, it was a well orchestrated meal of small dishes, satisfying with the high notes of laughter and chatter that really only groups of women friends get. The chocolate fondant and vanilla ice cream at the end only served to make it finer, if that were possible.

I'm home now. Reading my book, waiting for sleep to overcome me. V will be late back from his own tapas meal at Iberica.

We may not have eaten this meal together, although by chance we both chose Spanish. V may think he has escaped my retelling of how we met. He is very wrong. I fully intend to recount my version when I can. And even though I might be a tad dramatic I have no doubt that 21 years later we are still on the same page.

Motherland Motherlode 1

Jet lag

I cannot recall a time in the past 20 odd years of travel that jet lag has hit me/ us so badly.

It's been 5 days since we got back from our trip to India. And every evening this week, despite daytime naps to pad our energy levels, my son has fallen asleep between 4.30 and 6pm usually while sipping a mug a of milk or eating a morsel of dinner. On Wednesday I managed to keep him awake till 7 (his usual drop off point) bolstered by a long morning nap. I thought we had cracked it but the next two days were back to early evening sleeps.

The strange thing is that I followed him not long after, getting into bed and asleep by 8.30 or 9, finishing just basic chores and early meals. Same for V who can barely keep his eyes open once he is home.

And strangely none of us are waking particularly early. The kid wakes at 6 (as standard, some winter exceptions till 7) but we are all still half asleep and enjoying the half light-dark of early morning till at least 7 lying in our warm beds. So basically we are just sleeping loads. And calling it jet lag.

We have unpacked and had mad play dates all week in an attempt to get back to a normal London routine. I'm not staying up to read, check Facebook, call friends or catch up with all the tv I missed on the iplayers. I'm hoping this weekend will mark a turn and we will all move back to normal service.

Resolution fail - 4

It is typical. I have a wardrobe stuffed to the gills but not a stitch of clothing appropriate to any situation be it tea at the Ritz or dinner with girlfriends.

I am Fat. There's no getting around it. But it's not something that bothers me much. Probably because despite my weight I am fairly fit. I walk a lot, swim a lot and run after my kid a lot. I pretend to gym a lot. Wait, no, I pay for the gym but don't go a lot. Coming back to the weight, the only problem it causes is the variety of clothes available. And the occasional offer of a tube seat because I look a bit pregnant. (who am I kidding, that ain't a problem).

Im off the beaten track. So anyway, as part of my resolution of owning less and pruning what I own I had a first go at my cupboard over the Christmas break. It was pretty easy. I was fairly ruthless and gave away 4 bags of clothes to charity shops for other fat people to enjoy. I gave away things that didn't really fit, colours I thought did not suit me and styles that were just stretched sacks. 4 big bags. Aren't you proud of me?

But in the new year when I looked back into my cupboard the clothes seem to have magically grown and ever single thing was either brown or black or denim blue. In other words Blah!

And then I discovered I had thrown away so many pairs of trousers that I had precisely um three pairs to wear on a daily basis. To do all that running behind child and take the spills of juice and yogurt, the smears of snot and mud like troopers. My washing machine would be working overtime.

So last weekend I replaced the trousers on a whirlwind hour shop with three new pairs (less than I threw away but joining forces with the ones I kept, adequate)

I still have piles of shirts and tops and dresses and jumpers I can't bear to part with. Which I haven't worn in years or which are threadbare and unit for use as anything but rags but which sentimentality refuses to let me touch.

My cupboard is still stuffed to the gills. Clothes and air playing tricks or merely relaxing into the space. I need a wardrobe overhaul I cannot afford and/ or a new body I am too lazy to pursue. I am also going to India in a week and will no doubt buy all manner of clothes that will never be used in London.

I'm failing this resolution on so many counts that it's staggering. Thank goodness There are nine months of the year left for me to sort it out.

Resolution fail - 3

Since returning from holiday last week I've made something of a decision that contradicts my earlier resolution. Or rather adjusts it.

I have always been an all or nothing kinda girl. In friendship. In love. In food. This has meant many many enduring friendships, the greatest love of my life and an uncanny ability to eat my own weight in marshmallows. I never said it was healthy. More to the point though this trait of all or nothing always aided my resolution making because I could decide on something and then follow through with vigour.)

I think age has mellowed this trait because I came back from holiday thinking I would try again to be pescatrian but with one caveat. And that is to not beat myself up so much when I didn't manage it. In the next week, since getting back I have only veered once. And because I told myself that it would be ok (yes all you iron willed people must think I am a wimp) I enjoyed that meal very much.

So this year I am all about eating healthier, adding fish and yet more veggies to my diet with more regularity. But equally I am going to eat the odd meal including meat without kicking myself or knocking my will power or tripping up my confidence.

I'm not going to cook it for myself and V unless we have guests. I am however going to eat it when I want to and after considering all the possible choices on offer. And I am sincerely still making an effort to be less carnivorous.

Fairer to self. That's what my year should be about

Resolution fail - 2

Or why I am so bugged at not being a good vegetarian.

I am not naturally a competitive person where other people are involved. To be honest I'm not even that competitive with myself.

In the workplace I always had pride in achievement but never with the aim of climbing any career ladders I'm afraid. And this is not a judgement of people who are quite keen on the ladder climbing (whom I stare at with awe). More a reflection on my own mushroom like ambition gene.

I can safely say that in all my working years I did well, progressed steadily and thoroughly enjoyed my jobs. Did I ever have a burning ambition to be the boss? I'm pretty certain never is the honest answer.

In my Other life I have interests and an interesting, pretty peaceful existence. The only challenge I do give myself are my yearly resolutions. And the reason for this is because I think about what they are going to be for a fair while before the new year. I think about how my last year went and what I would like to change in my situation to make the year ahead better for me and my family . In past years I have fared quite well, striving hard and thinking and acting upon about my decisions with some seriousness.

Its not much to ask of oneself I think, to keep my very few resolutions. But this year I have failed spectacularly on the meat eating count. And although it's nowhere near the end of the world, this failure to stick with something is very bothersome. In my mind it's a (blown out of proportion) measure of how I can't achieve even the simplest of asks. It's symptomatic of how lazy I am becoming in my old age I think, how little control I am striving for over my own life. I'm being foolish and self-pitying I know, but at the end of the day it is my will power gone wrong. I want these resolutions to mean something. To be the measure against which I work myself. To provide a yardstick by which my life moves forward in the most positive way.

We are on a marvellous holiday and true to form I have enjoyed being a non-vegetarian to the hilt. I had accounted for this holiday and ones coming ahead, perfectly legitimate excuses. But not for the other everyday giving in to my meat eating cravings.

I am hoping that my will power will be waiting patiently by the door when we get home Thursday night. I can be a pescatarian. I know I can.

Resolution fail - 1

Turns out I had only two resolutions for 2012. Eating less meat and shedding my need for and actual things that seemed to be crowding our lives.

It turns out that I am pretty rubbish at following through in the most absolute sense. Let's talk about the less meat one.

In January I was very good. I ate a lot more fish than I imagined I would and thought a lot more about what I was putting in my body (a temple though this is not). I was a pescatarian and opened up some of my dusty cookbooks to look for interesting meals to conjure from veggies. It was a good month for resolution keeping and a victory for pescatarian-ness everywhere (the fish disagree!).

February however is a whole different kettle of fish. Or should I say skewer of meat. I ate chicken and lamb and pork at a Korean new year celebration. It's the year of the dragon, special occasion and all that. Then I met a group of friends for a delightful evening (post to follow) and ate lamb amongst other meats. Then I ate leftover chicken gyoza from Wagamama, all kinds of meat at two Chinese meals at my very favourite Royal China and sheekh rolls on two occasions. I had excuses for all these but even to me none of these excuses ring credible. it was mainly down to laziness (not cooking, choosing easiest option) and greed (smelt so so good).

This evening we went out for the evening to a new restaurant in our area - a speciality steak house whose Mayfair branch had us mesmerised a few years ago. So babysitter installed, all dressed up I went of for date night with V. And although I dressed it up with spinach and mushrooms and truffle chips in essence I ate a giant tender succulent fillet steak. It was divine and I am happy as a clam. The pescatarian references roll off my tongue with ease.

And this weekend we are off on holiday and I fully intend to eat whatever is on offer, meat or not. I seem to be unable to make myself a pescatarian in February. I am missing the 'won't power gene I guess. I have to try harder. So on this resolution I would say so far resounding 'fail'.

I intend to think about this though because I know that when I set it and wrote it I meant it. I have to remind myself of my motivations and think about what I want to achieve. Maybe I am not as sick of meat as I thought or ready to embrace the true pescatarian lifestyle just yet.

We'll talk about the materialism resolution tomorrow.

Moment in time

Up at unearthly o'clock with the Teething Toddler who demanded 'another cup' of water on this cold dry English night. Trod on strategically placed racing cars on way to kitchen to get the water and checked the BBC news on my phone instead of watching where I walked. I stumbled over a car as I read about the death of Whitney Houston.

Just yesterday, on our way to a birthday party, the radio was blaring every ballad to commemorate valentines day and whitney's 'I will always love you' came on. We both laughed about how much we loved her music no matter how corny it could be.

And then to hear this news. I am a Big Time fan I would say. I know the tunes and the lyrics. I am always amazed anew by the clarity and heft and sheer power of her voice. I am not ashamed to say I listened to a LOT of her music growing and grown up. Tomorrow at breakfast I am going to put on a CD of her greatest hits and use the amp and speakers in her honour. Whatever her problems may have been it is a shame and a waste to have been taken so early. RIP Whitney. I will always love you.

S.N.O.W

Out for a walk this morning in the smattering of snow. Followed by divine Japanese lunch. This is the good life.

February the first

Blistering cold day today. Deceptively blue sunny skies. We had to retreat for an extra layer and missing gloves before venturing to yet another play activity.

The joy of living in a glass box though is that all afternoon we built imaginary and real block forts on our living room carpet bathed in sunshine and shielded from the worst of the cold.

Hot avocado paranthas with yogurt for dinner - a new found use for avocado that is popular with my child and me.

An early night turn in to try and cure my past few nights of insomnia, brought on by Vs absence. On the plus side I'm catching up on lots of programs on the iPad and getting through my stack of library books at great speed.

A good start to February. I'm pleased with 2012 so far.

They are coming

January has been a very busy month, in a good way. It's not an excuse and I just wanted to say I'll be more 'Diligent' in February. Of this year.

In the meanwhile, enjoy some cheese.

Apparently...

.... I didn't make any resolutions last year. Or at least none that I bothered to record on my dead weed like blog. But in years past I most certainly made and wrote about my resolutions. I'm big on resolution making. And keeping as far as I can. I find it gives me a focus and direction, much like a shopping list to get on with and tackle.

This year I have a few things on the list:

1. I am trying to be more mindful of what I eat. Not to lose weight (although my obeseness does need addressing) but just because I have lost my desire to eat meat on a regular basis. I am your original meat eater so this is a big change for me. I've been thinking of being mainly vegetarian for a while now. So this year I'm trying to be a pescatarian and up my intake of fish and avoid meat/ poultry as far as I can. I think special occasions or holidays might be the only time I veer.

2. Owning less stuff. I find that I buy a lot of things, mainly on amazon. Books predominantly, for myself, friends, my kid. But also random things like kitchen appliances or toys or foot scrub. Things that I don't need and certainly don't have place for. Our house is groaning at the seams. Any day now expect news that a house of paper and plastic crap exploded all over a London neighbourhood. I'm going for notoriety not stardom apparently. So since October I have stopped buying any more books. I'm using my library more. I sifted through my bookshelves and gave away/ sold 100 books for a £1 each. I'm watching what I buy and avoiding any toys or gadgets as we have quite enough. We sorted out cupboards and toy baskets and I'm saving my son's Christmas presents (all from friends, none from us) to be opened through the year - he got to tear off the wrapping paper which to a 2 year old IS the gift and then they got put away. This is my year of sorting sifting and being less greedy for things.

I have a few more but I'll leave them for another day. What are yours?

And so it begins

2011 sucked in many many ways; predominantly in the loss of my grandfather, two uncles and a friend whose death remains unresolved. However it had it's bright spots too, mainly watching my child's discovery of the world and the birth of beautiful babies to dear friends. Also the evenings with friends in central london eating out and my parents summer with us. Our family seaside vacation to Thailand and then our Italian break. The wonderful group of mothers in my area whose children my son plays alongside and who make exploring London just a bit easier and infinitely more interesting. V and I celebrating our 10th wedding anniversary on christmas day - a decade of life that has flashed by in the blink of an eye and ever so slowly, in many many cherished moments.

I want to revisit my resolutions from last year to see how I did but have not had a moment to do so. These next few days will be reflective while getting back into the swing of things after the mainly restful holiday period. And I do plan to blog about resolutions from last year and this. I'm self competitive like that!

We spent today with friends in their beautiful new home, stuffing our faces with every manner of Mexican delicacy. We spent the 1st of January with the same couple last year so inadvertently it's become a tradition that I hope we can continue in years to come. It's certainly a wonderful way to greet a new year - food and friends and fabulousness are a genius combination.

So while 2011 mainly sucked I have high high hopes for 2012. For what it's worth I'm hoping it really is a happy new year for us all, in every way and every day.