sisterhood

In a few hours, on the other side of the world, my sister has exploratory surgery. While discussing it with me earlier this week, my mother turned to me, face alight, to ask whether it was 'in anticipation?'. "Not really", i said evasively, knowing the fuller truth, but not wanting to worry her. My mother yearns for a granddaughter, and although i would love to give her another grandchild, so very much, i don't believe my stuttering womb will ever oblige again. My sister's uterus is probably hours from removal. I cry a little today, for all our losses.

consummate

We lie together in comfortable exhaustion, soaking up the warmth of sunlight and the radiated heat generated from vigorous friction. I slowly shift into my expected position; flat on my belly, left cheek on his flank, face full of our mingled scent.

My lips move.

As i settle into the familiar motion i anticipate his hand upon my back, a tentative touch growing in to a long dalliance, his fingers dancing patterns across my skin, the weight of his arm a perfect security.

He talks.

It is meandering post coital natter, one of my favourite forms of intimacy. Sometimes i respond, with my tongue still wrapped about his cock tip, or a query spoken out around his girth or an indignant exclamation buried into his warm balls, nipping at his flesh in mock retaliation at a teasing remark.

All the while his hand moves; in circles from hip to hip, along the ridge of my spine in slow sweeps, and the flat of his palm cupping the dimple of my waist, the twin ovals of my buttocks.

I nuzzle and suck, polish and preen, coating his rosy flesh in my saliva, lazily lapping at the length in my fist, echoing the idle pace of his arm. My fingers squeeze and stroke with the shifting motion across my curved back; as regular as my heartbeat, as reassuring as my breath.

it is not until his hand moves to the back of my head and grips my hair painfully that i start to move my lips with real intent.

Lichen

An afternoon spent frolicking with the children among statues. I was fascinated by the variety of lichen on display; a blossoming beauty spot on the face of a serene and sad beauty, the flat poisonous yellow stain compared to the bristling fur on the dwarf and his weapon, and the green gloss of crinkly, velvety curls across the bosom of the queen.






I am in a room full of sweetly ticking clocks, all perfectly synchronised, their full variety of chimes dancing and interleaving at the hour of 10 o'clock. I don't feel so alone with the patter of rhythmic clicks as a background accompaniment, although it makes me realise that i miss listening to the beat of another's heart at this late hour.

bank holiday boobs

just because .. i don't have time to post pictures of the food, glorious food i have been cooking this weekend. Soon.

is there

anything better than curling up on the sofa watching food porn, one small child in my lap, another tucked in behind my shoulder, munching on peanut butter and chocolate chunk cookies, enveloped in the aroma of sweet butter, salty nut and clean hamster? Probably the best, and most useful hour, i spent this week. The cookies were just a bonus.

Bill Granger's Peanut Butter & Chocolate Chunk Cookies

HNT/freckles

Congratulations Os, on a 4th year of Half-Nekkidness xx

how on earth ..

I open this place sometimes and find it an open wound, suppurating, unable to heal. I secrete truths in among the cake crumbs, but the majority of my reality must be held close against my chest, unseen.

I feel uncomfortable in my skin, which is ironic as i am fitter and stronger than i have been for years. I still have big breasts and that soft, fluttering belly where my children lay but my stamina and poise are greatly improved.

The weights i lift in the gym are feather pillows compared to the tasks that wait for me at home in my post bag.

the russian(tea biscuit)s are coming

Cream 225g unsalted butter with 5ml of vanilla extract until soft and smooth. Add 50g icing sugar and 250g plain flour through a sieve. Stir until just combined into a heavy dough. Add 120g chopped walnuts, stir*

Spoon the dough into small balls, place on a silicone baking sheet. Bake for 12 minutes at 180ºC until barely tinged with colour. Leave to cool and roll in icing sugar, twice if you wish.







*The second time i made these i ground the walnuts first, into a heavy dust. The biscuits were smoother in texture and appearance, lighter to the bite and slightly less crumbly.

Be warned - these cookies collapse into your mouth with a puff of sweet icing sugar and are quite addictive. I will try the same recipe with pecans, and perhaps almonds too; they are light, very buttery and the delicate flavour of nut shines. Apparently they keep well in a tin.



ps. Gigi is treating me well.

tossing and turning

During our marriage I slept on the left hand side of the bed, and still climb in that way, and use the table lamp on 'my' side for reading. Last night i found myself sliding off the right hand edge of the mattress with pillows, toys and assorted debris cascading into a confused heap. I think i was subconsciously seeking a warm body to fetch up against. I woke up disorientated and unrefreshed.

I have not been baking enough this week. My last batch was a remake of the Very Cherry Cupcakes for a cake sale. I made them in large muffin paper cases, smothered them in truffle chocolate (good plain chocolate, gently melted + the same volume of double cream) and sold them, easily, for one pound a piece.





Another supper time favourite: Picadillo adapted from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Meat Book. I forgot to take a photo, but it was a very appealing dish, studded with colourful olives and peppers.

500g coarse beef mince, 8 rashers of streaky bacon finely chopped, a tablespoon of white wine vinegar, a teaspoon of sugar and a little pepper: mix together and leave to stand while ..

finely chop an onion, and 2 cloves of garlic, a small red pepper and one (or more) fresh chilli. Cook in a little olive oil until onions are soft and lightly coloured.

Add meat and brown well. Using a wide spatula, drain off fat. Add a handful of raisins, the same of flaked almonds, and a dozen or so green pimento-stuffed olives, roughly chopped, 250ml of beef stock and a tablespoon of tomato puree. Simmer gently for an hour, partly covered and stirred occasionally, adding water if necessary, but mixture should be thick and unctuous at the end of cooking. Perfect with soft tortillas, or rice. A little grated cheese and guacamole is a bonus.

in our box

We stand at the end of the bed together, my bare bottom pressed to his lap. As his thrusts strengthen my balance is threatened so i fold, knees on the edge of the mattress, leant forward on my elbows, shoulders dipping downwards.

I press my left cheek onto the bed, mouth open, eyes shut.

I can see what he can see below his belly; his fingers crushing the stripes so recently laid across my flanks, the soft shimmer of cool steel peeping blatantly from my shy hole within a cradle of blushing buttock and the liquid sheen on his taut flesh as his hips retreat momentarily.

I am at a loss with the sensations. While my cunt tugs at his cock, pulling him deeper, so the muscles in my anus expand, pushing upwards and outwards at the metallic fullness which holds me open. Expel and inhale. Inhale and expel. My lower body breathes a life of its own.

a fool

I woke face down in my bed, naked and alone, the sunlight filtered through eyelids and a curtain of curls. I don't need to move, not for a few minutes, so i stay still, enjoying the pull of my body into the mattress.

Gigi is never far away, tucked under a pillow, within easy reach in this bed which has become my own. One hand reaches out blindly, fingers pressing, and she purrs in my palm. I wiggle my arm and the toy beneath my belly, a slight lift of my hips to insinuate her flat nose into a warm crevice.

The toy flutters against my skin, a small, pleasing patter, indistinct patterns across the fold of my slit. Miniscule movements of my pelvis against her cock profile, a delicate rubbage but still unfocused, reluctant to wake fully, or face the day.

It is not until i shift wide my knees that i suddenly sense my exposure, my bottom tilted to display my wet heat to the dawn and i am magnificently awake and gasping with delight into the cotton sheet.





Rhubarb stems, stripped of their ruby (but stringy) coating, sliced into 1cm rounds. Into a thick bottomed pan add a couple of spoonfuls of water and another of dark sugar. Cover with a lid and stew over a low heat for 5 minutes, then stir and cook uncovered for a few more minutes until the fruit is thoroughly collapsed.

I ate it straight for breakfast, warm and a little astringent with green grass, and then later in the day i beat air into a little double cream and folded in a large spoonful of the cold puree to make a smooth and flowery fool.

not authentic

I managed to get it right last night:

a. did not wait for him to arrive before serving supper to the children

b. let him serve himself from the kitchen (rather than serving him myself)

c. left them to finish eating and went shopping (not exciting, but at least i am out of the house and practising flirting)

He sent me a text to thank me for supper, and to say how good it was.

I replied, to say thank you for the thank you.

If we can keep it this civilised, it won't be so dreadfully awful.


Chilli Con Carne, adapted from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's The River Cottage Meat Book.

I will transcribe it exactly as i cooked it (without kidney beans or the shoulder of pork - it was for a family kitchen supper, after all) because i was really pleased with the smokey, interesting depth of flavour and although it was very child-friendly it was still sophisticated enough for adults.

500g good mince beef and about 3 inches of spicy chorizo sausage, cut into small chunks; brown in cast-iron pan. Meanwhile sweat a large chopped onion in a generous-sized pan until soft and translucent. Add meat, a de-seeded and finely chopped chili (increase as desired), a glug of white wine vinegar, 2 teaspoons of soft brown sugar, a tin of plum tomatoes, enough water to cover + one of those rather excellent jellied beef stock capsules, 2 bay leaves, a stick of cinnamon, a good pinch of oregano and a tablespoon of chilli powder.

Leave to simmer while doing school run, laundry, homework, etc., etc. I left mine for at least 2 hours, topping up with water as necessary. Absolutely delicious.


(Thank you, M from Devon, for the tip - definitely my favourite chilli, so far)

no pictures today

My youngest son wants to get in the bath with me. He has a new Action Man diver and my tub of deep water looks like another ideal opportunity to play. It is early in the morning and he stands in the doorway of the bathroom in his brother's faded spiderman pyjamas, pink cheeks and fuzzy hair, a sweet-smelling hamster.

"But you had a long bath last night" i said, easing myself into blissful heat.

"Mummy" he wails in anguish, a last ditch attempt at justifying his inclusion in my watery sanctury:

"I'm an urchin!"

growing roses

I am fascinated by ink. Every day in the changing room i see more variety of tattoos; some are clumsy amateur markings, other sophisticated and beautiful accents. I appear to be one of very few without them, and it will have to remain that way. Instead i must be content with a legion of delicately coloured bruises.

Most are from his teeth; a sage wreath across my shoulders and in the thin skin covering my collarbone; soft, rosy patches on my throat; washes of lime overlapping on the palest canvas of my breasts. There may be darker, larger smudges from his pinching fingers around the soft swell of my inner thigh and the curve of my waist and occasionally the thin, whip raw lines raised from the circling grip of rope.

My trophies change colour daily, deepen in shade, then fade away, unlike the dark tattoos that decorate the arms and legs of my fellow gymsters, but at least i can replenish mine when i wish, and enjoy the blossoming patterns all over again.

steps

Have you made these yet? Nigella Lawsons' Chocolate cherry cupcakes. Easy-peasy, made in one pan with melted butter, chocolate and most of a jar of morello cherry jam and luscious whether iced or not. I used my new heart-shape silicone cases for the extra heartfelt feeling.

I have never seen my children as grubby, or as contented, as they were tonight. Half a day on our favourite beach, the rest spent building a bonfire in a field, interrupted only by bouts of trampolining and meals. Bedtime is welcome, and after they are settled i have a glass of champagne. Another day dealt.

A baby pear...