Precious

"Go and sit in the sunshine" he said, "make some freckles."

plink plink

I have come over all 'crafty', with pinking shears in one hand and bias-binding in the other. And I made chicken pot pie with butter-biscuit topping buttermilk dumplings for supper. Maybe it is the weather, or maybe it is that feeling that comes after lust (i am not ready for love yet).

I am avoiding looking at any posts i wrote a year ago .. not yet, anyway .. i remember enough that i was so very down back then, and now i am not.

excess

Rococo's easter egg chocolate truffles. The devil's food, in particular the salted caramel sea gull eggs.

sucked dry

I have rediscovered how i love to spend time without my children, especially when the time is spent knickerless, in my nightie, sucking sweet garlic mussels from their shell at some unspecific time in the early afternoon, or shucking candy coloured prawns from their shiny coats to spice with vivid chillies that will tickle our lips.

It is good, however, to have my boys home now. Happy Easter

a pair of mugs

He sighed, happily.

"It was a perfect way to be woken" he said;

 "My naked girl, carrying tea."

no more numb

My replacement bicycle seat.

I have a new bicycle. Well, not really new. My brother's, left at the back of the shed for the last 4 years. He won't ever use it, so I replaced the seat and made it mine (Thanks, Bro). It is a off-road bike, with great suspension.

I am sitting outside a beach cafe with my parents, drinking coffee and contemplating the blue horizon. There are cyclists passing us every couple of minutes.

"Do you prefer them big and fat?" asks my father.

"It gives a better ride" says my mother.

I am momentarily stunned, stiff with shock in my seat. A large man is parking his fancy bicycle against the low wall of the terrace and i realise they are looking at his tyres. I pinch my nose tight to hold back the giggles, not daring to look in their direction.

a sunny morning

He hums to himself, with amusement.

I can't see the direction of his gaze, but I imagine how my vulnerable pose has caught his attention and I am immediately wary, but disinclined to move my head from his lap.

The moments pass with silky sounds and a stillness that won't remain.

He shifts abruptly, and so do I, but he has the advantage of being above me. His hand lies heavily on the back of my neck as he twists his hips about my tipped body; i am startled by the weight of his intention and push back instinctively.

"No, you don't" he says, bearing down, "you're not going anywhere".

a single candle

Key Lime Pie, quite possibly the easiest birthday cake i ever made, eaten in the garden yesterday evening, while waiting for the bats to fly. I had a fabulous day.

not bitter

i kiss my children's soft warm ears as they fall into sleep, snug with hot water bottles (i doubt they will give them up, even in summer), duvets and favourite blankets pulled up to their noses, and i bless the stars that i am here for the nightly ritual, on a friday evening, even though i am missing a night of dirty, wanton sex with my boyfriend, and undoubtably missing a lazy morning of wanton, dirty sex too.

ready to eat

I'm not baking cakes at the moment. All my energies are being consumed by adobe illustrator, with occasional retreats back to our bed for sustaining sex.

I am cooking, as ever, if mainly for necessity. It has not been an aesthetic week. Scrambled eggs with turmeric and grated courgette; delicious mildly curried egg with substance, nutritious and vile to contemplate on the plate. I ate looking out of the window. If you have ever changed a breast-fed baby's nappy you will understand what i am talking about. Another was a pot-roast chicken; although i roast the bird for half an hour before burying it in vegetables and stock it is never the best-looking dish, although moist flesh makes up for the lack of visual.

With the promise of summer wafting through the windows, my thoughts turn to picnics. I have a little recipe book here, from an eon ago, when i worked in the city and eat from trendy sandwich vendors. It still has the free voucher attached; the recipes worked better for me than the shop goodies. We all eat my version of Pret's Famous Tuna Pasta on sunday, a family at leisure.

I made some modifications of my own, original ingredients in brackets.

for 3/4

2 tins of tuna - I prefer mine packed in sunflower oil
1 unwaxed lemon
3 tablespoons of mayonnaise
3 tablespoons creme fraiche
2/3 leeks
bunch of salad onions (or a red onion)
1 tsp butter or olive oil
4 tablespoons capers, rinsed
2 teaspoon fresh thyme or big pinch of dried thyme
2 tablespoons of good olive oil
500g dried pasta
4 tablespoons green pimento stuffed olives (or black)
a cucumber
fresh herb - parsley or coriander

Drain the tuna. In a big salad bowl put tuna, grated lemon zest (about half of the lemon) and most of the lemon juice, all the mayo and creme fraiche and mix gently with a fork.

Wash and slice the leek, chop the onions and stir-fry in butter or oil until soft. Add capers and thyme and leave to cool slightly.

Cook the pasta, drain and add to the salad bowl. Add the onions and leek mix, and an extra 2 tablespoons of olive oil to lubricate (more if necessary), the olives and the cucumber, peeled and chopped into small chunks, and the roughly chopped herb.

Serve hot or cold, in sunshine.