traveling home

"How long do we have to be good for?" he asked.

"Forever" i replied, gaily.

His face fell, his body slumped into the seat, knobbly bare knees pulled to his long chin, thinking carefully about his counter strike.

"How about" he offered, "until we get to Macdonald's?"

*

He reached across from the passenger seat, put his paw on my leg; long, slender tanned fingers and a furious dry heat pouring through my jeans, tapping along to the music from the radio, my companion on the road.


*

We were talking about my friends, places i have visited without them.

"Do you remember i went to a party, the night you went camping with Daddy?"

"Yes" he said. "What is a grown-up party like?"

"Well", i considered. "We had jelly, and biscuits."

"That sounds just like a children's party" he said smiling, satisfied that he hasn't missed out.

twittrivia

I needed a reminder of my holiday, which seems an age ago already, so i found my tweets for that week. They are as evocative (to me) as the photos i took; secret images from my head.

My shoulder, which i landed on when i was hit by the flying man, will take 3 months to heal, so my doctor says.

• home, and the children reacquaint themselves with playroom and larder equally as if finding long-lost treasures
• Packing the car to go home is never as jolly as packing to go to the beach.
• Medicinal masturbation
• the children had free and easy access to plum trees this week. The effects are now being felt.
• "poo fell out, mummy"
• my jeans are loose on me - it has been an active week. My chest, however, seems more prominent.
• A second breakfast by the seashore. Hot coffee is necessary
• @BeautifulWreck2 he was flying backwards, catching a ball. We crashed and fell (in sand, thankfully). The sound of cracking skulls was huge
• @joniconix i am a mermaid, don't you know :)
• after 7 days of sea bathing my curls are white gold, my skin peachy soft and my car full of sand.
• The key is returned! Home bound, briny but warm
• The wind surfers are crossing the peninsula to take advantage of breeze: Silver wings on bronzed legs. Seagulls dancing with kites.
• Stranded in beach hut while car key has fast boat ride east. Send help. Or fish & chips.
• Knocked out by a flying man on the beach. Heads banged. Soothed by ice cream
• Lunch done. Coffee brewing. View outstanding. Contemplating another swim.
• I might swim in a minute
• Another day of sparkles on the sea. In the shade of the hut we watch the boats trundle past and make lego cars.
• my mistake - barbeque was fired up so i assumed for fish. Sausages and eggs.
• yet more mackeral, for breakfast.
• giddy
• Watching old harry bathe in evening sun. Flocks of spinnakers scoop the horizon. Wine.
• Barebacking wifi
• Hot chips after a long swim
• The sea is perfection today: a dark lime jelly shot with citrus spangles over a bed of endless sand ripples
• Stuff the potatoes, bugger the plums; off to the seaside instead
• Before i can go swimming today i have to pick a crop of potatoes and strip a tree of greengages.
• waiting for breakfast
• woke from a dream on the edge of coming on a stranger's fingertip. I let it happen, rocked myself back to sleep. A sure sign of frustration.
• .. brb, my glass of chilled champagne awaits *grin* (ps, postcards purchased ✔ postcards sent ✖)
• I was being sensitive to my working friends. Do you really want to know that i swam in the sea, drank tea and played merry in the sun?
• @TheFamulus we have been swimming and such :) There were complaints about teasing so i was refraining from telling anyone
• One of those good days when the children are happy to play together and content that i am just nearby, reading
• eggs & ham
• Another late harbour crossing over flat water towards a sinking sun with a sleepy salty child cradled in my lap
• Lady of the grey bra: please put your clothes back on.
• Water babe
• Lying in the sun only encourages me to dwell on even hotter pursuits.
• No surf today, so wake boarding instead. Kettle on. Fisher boys have returned with more mackeral.
• 2 knots of wind and blue skies: perfect weather for messing about in a boat.
• @TheFamulus boat, fish, swim, lunch .. repeat .. happy dayz
• refreshed, ready to frolic once more.
• put to bed by her mum, with hot water bottle as quiet companion
• heh @helga_hansen @MsPonita fish caught from small boat out at sea, not from shoreline. We commute to beach hut via boat ...
• Can you guess what i really really want right now?
• @helga_hansen i hope the boys will catch more later in the week - they have caught fishing bug, thankfully.
• @TheFamulus it is a fabulous beach but sees a huge amount of human traffic. best that the sand is cleaned than the rubbish floats off
• @MsPonita yes mackerel, and delicious straight from the BBQ :)
• @TheFamulus there is a great deal of beach, and the tide doesn't go as far as the promenade - hence 'house'keeping must be done.
• the beach was combed this morning, by a large raking machine @TheFamulus. It looked pristine when we arrived.
• Beachcombing
• i haven't forgotten :) @helga_hansen, yesterday's castle was washed away by a rising tide - they get more elaborate every day
• @TheFamulus wow. Am only just thinking about a shower. Next i have to decide .. beach, or beach. Or beach.
• exfoliated by nature
• Floating in a transparent emerald sea
• my beach hut may not have wifi, but it does have an excellent view.
• _ lick _
• champagne, blackberries, greengages and damsons.
• is in a better place
• 3 .. 2 .. 1 .. summer holiday starts now

lemony lemon

Just like Bakerella, my cooking-for-pleasure tends to be chocolate heavy but recently i have begun to indulge a lemon leaning. It is not enough that i have the easiest lemon drizzle, or a perfect damp Lemon & Almond, or even a full-fat cheesecake, but my new ultimate has to be these Lemon Slices. Reminiscent of dense lemon curd under a sweet, fragile crust of sugar on a barely-there pastry they will satisfy any citrus craving, at least until you need another bite.

I am rewriting the recipe here with UK measurements, but the original recipe, additional notes and delicious photos can be found here.

225g cold unsalted butter
200g plain flour
130g icing sugar



Add the butter, cut into small chunks, to the flour, sifted with the icing sugar. Using the back of a fork, a pastry cutter or the tips of your fingers (cool under a cold tap first) rub butter into the dry ingredients until you have a soft gravel. Press into a greased and floured tin. I used 2 small ones, but, after the success of this batch, i went and bought a 9"x13" specifically for the next time (soon). I have also read a tip to add finely grated lemon zest to the crumb, for extra zing.



Bake at 180ºC for 20-25 minutes until golden brown.

Meanwhile:

345g caster sugar
30g plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
4 slightly beaten eggs
1/2 cup of lemon juice



Put the dry ingredients to a large bowl and mix briefly. Add the beaten eggs and lemon juice and combine well. Easy. Pour into the just-baked pastry case and put back into the hot oven for 25 minutes until puffed and golden.



Leave to cool completely and refrigerate to store. Once cold, shower with a little extra icing sugar. Best eaten 10 minutes out of the fridge - still cold and exceeding unctuous.




"Come for me" he whispers, and my body opens instantly, shuddering convulsions emptying from between my legs as if voiding my lungs in a contrary direction, such an easy precipitation that i clutch at the space in fear of losing my lights.

Thank you AAG for my fleshbotting this week. My filthy writing is so infrequent nowadays that i wonder if anyone notices it - except of course for the poor unsuspecting readers seeking Russian Tea Biscuits or such like.

muffin

"Suck me" he said, presenting his cock.

I resist, holding my neck stiffly erect against the drag of my curls in his grip, although my mouth inwardly waters. His arm lifts, my scalp tingling with tension.

"Suck" he enunciates. "Me."

I open my mouth wide and remain steady, watching his face. I feel him gathering a larger fist of hair; my smile stretches involuntarily with the pull on my skin.

"Suck."

My tongue reaches out and deliberately feathers his taut pate, a whispering, sliding stroke that then retreats. I wait. As i hoped, he taps my left cheek with the flat tips of his close pressed fingers, warningly, but i still hesitate.

He slaps me again, a hard strike that jolts my chin. The sound is shocking, heated flesh reverberating over my jaw. The room disappears, my focus sharpens on his face and the third narrow eye directly in front of me.

"You want to" he says.

"Yes" i say.


Blueberry Muffins; buttery and moist with the added intrigue of cinnamon to the sweet berries.

Stir together 315g plain flour, 155g caster sugar (i used vanilla sugar), 2½ teaspoons of baking powder, ½ teaspoon of salt and 1 teaspoon of cinnamon powder.

In another bowl whisk 250ml milk, 125g melted, unsalted butter and 2 large eggs.



Add the dry ingredients to the wet and mix with a large metal spoon until barely blended. Add a generous cup (125g) frozen blueberries and stir to distribute. Divide between 12 muffin cases and bake in a preheated oven at 200ºC for 20 minutes until risen and golden. Enjoy fresh.

decisions

I took my children to a spired city today, to seek fossils. They skipped through the end-of-day commuters with skinny skeins of arms waving in the ochre light, their ubiquitous plastic sandals telegraphing their displacement despite their urban camouflage of check shirts and flapping shorts.

Even a small, green city such as this seems alien to me now. I wonder whether i am burying us, living in this tiny village.



What is the life expectancy of a sex toy? What is my life expectancy as a sex toy?

cheating is easy

Even being cheated upon is easy enough, once love has dried to the fragile egg-wash of corrupted varnish. Revelations are tinged with a ghost of relief, a sense that an illusion is ending, and that unease, once misunderstood, is now explicit.

It has been over a year since my husband left, and, at the time, the confirmation of his infidelities were of little consequence compared to his reasons for going. The fact that he had had affairs while we had floundered through a mire of sexual uprising was only a minor seismic event. Most of the pain came from having a life upturned, a future untold rather than a particular sting of betrayal.

But not now.

Last week he wrote me an email. It took me 5 days or so to fully read it, for i firmly believed i knew what he had written - that he had reiterated his affairs and fleshed out the details - and i didn't want to add to the pictures in my head. Eventually i did read it, and it was all new and unexpected.

There were fresh revelations, but not about the corruption of an already rancid relationship. It is now about the dissolution of a fresh one, while our first baby was so new and i believed we were in love.

Last week i was knocked over by a running man. It was a silly accident on a beach; we bumped heads loudly and i fell, in clear slow motion, on to my left shoulder. The pain is peculiar - i don't know where exactly it comes from, or how to ease it. No matter how i hold my arm, it throbs. Nothing turns off the ache.

the end

Bye bye beach hut.

My beach bag, refined by the experience of the week (I had to reject my novel as reading was not an option while watching 2 small children dashing in and out of the sea).

• 2 bottles of suncream
• mascara
• swim goggles
• gluten free snack
• sunglasses (in red case)
• lots and lots of painkillers
• postcards (still to be posted)
• pen to write postcards
• wallet
• buckets (for carrying boys' snacks but destined to be used for castles).
• A pair of black knickers.

I am overwhelmed by wholesomeness. I need some depravity, soon.

evening sun

HNT/beach hut

I am still pale and freckly.

mackeral for supper

I have reverted to being the eldest child of 3, every moment of my day scheduled and directed. It is strangely therapeutic. Just as my children do, i accept the pattern of each day and the absence of responsibility, concentrating instead on giving cuddles and comfort as required.

a talent

He settles into me, deeply, and we both exhale. My breath comes in staggered steps, testing the stretching and the pressure. Above me i can hear the quiet grunt that he releases as his weight increases across the curve of my back.

He moves slowly at first, a slow push and extraction, then lifting himself up on tensioned arms so he can look downwards at the junction of our bodies, dwelling on the spectacle. I have both of my arms trapped between my body and the bed, fingers crammed in to the tightly pressed crevices of my pussy; all i can do is minutely grind my hips against thumb and knuckles, aggravating the ache buried between my thighs.

Unexpectedly he leans forward, flattening me further with his weight, squeezing a gasp from my lungs, his voice close in my ear.

"Kiss me" he says.

My chin rises with surprise, his hand assists with a grip of my hair and our mouths seek each other, me with my face uplifted and twisted awkwardly over my left shoulder. We kiss with extravagant tongues and blatant, lingering caresses of lips, a showy display of restraint at this most intimate of moments, anchored one to the other by his cock in my pinioned arse.

my day

yes, my little surf board has a stripy sock bag to keep it warm and dry.

arrived

and the sun is shining.

packing

... and a job application.


I had forgotten how much more fun it is to watch a movie while having someone else's (no, not a child's) hand to squeeze at the (not really very) scary bits.

gratuitous meat

A small boned shoulder of lamb, studded with rosemary spears and peeled garlic cloves. 20 minutes at high heat, 20 minutes on a reduced heat, 15 minutes rest.

I am in a state of overactive somnambulism.

mini burger buns

I first saw these cute litle gems on the delightful Bakerella blog and could not resist making a version. They are less about the baking, which is very simple, and all about the building. Start with lots of queen cakes (see previous post) and a couple of chocolate brownie tray bakes (seriously, use a decent packet mix, no-one will notice).

Make the brownies the day before, allow to cool. When ready to assemble, cut out circles using a cutter to match the diameter of your queen cakes.





Bake the queen cakes in paper cases (to keep the sides pale and bun-coloured), leave to cool and carefully peel of the paper wrappings.

I used a standard 12 bun tray with fairy cake cases but i should have used a muffin tray with large muffin cases which would allow for square-sided buns and a better profile. Next time.

I cut the narrow bottoms off my fairy cakes and used one cake for the bottom bun, one for top. With a less angular cake, cut them in half to make the top and bottom. However, as a bonus, i did end up with a big pile of delicious sponge circles, which i have frozen and will use for trifles.



The fun part: colour a batch of butter icing (or tinned frosting .. one tin of Betty Crocker frosting will be sufficient for 40 sauced burgers, with another tin for the yellow cheese) with a little poppy red food colouring and a tiny touch of purple colour to make a deep ketchup red. Scoop into a plastic food bag, snip off one corner and pipe a circle of red on the base bun. The weight of the brownie will spread the ketchup outwards in an authentic squidge.



The combination of dense chewy chocolate cake and light, sweet fluffy sponge is irresistable.



I used Marigold colour with another batch of frosting to make a subtle cheesy imitation, which i piped in a looser squiggle around the top of the burger pattie. Do you think it needs green lettuce? It has been done.





For the final touch, with a small brush dipped into water dampen the top of each bun. Scatter across a dusting of poppy seeds (or sesame for the non-allergic) - the seeds will stick attractively.