Monday, 9 March 2009


A first visit to the Garden Centre! It must be Spring!

(Don't you get sniffy with me about the chemicals. I have a disabled ramp in my garden which becomes covered every winter in a layer of delicious slimy algae. Being green is the last thing on your mind when your child is standing at the bottom of a slithery ramp tapping it nervously with the end of a crutch.)

Anyway, it's not like I'm going out there anytime soon. It's hideous. I'm content just to peer at it through the kitchen window.

(self portrait with moss and tarpaulin)

Sunday was great for the simple reason that there was SO MUCH CAKE. My mother had roped me into hosting a dessert course for the church Safari Supper on Saturday night, which necessitated baking far too much stuff in case anyone didn't like any of the other stuff. In case you are a very lucky, blessed person and you have never had to attend a Safari Supper, this is a bizarre social occasion where you trudge around the streets having a four-course dinner in four different houses with different sets of people every time, in order to meet as many people as possible whilst keeping to an almost military eating timetable. With MAPS.

(Please tell me other people do this. Please tell me that Anglicans are not just, you know, weird.)

So Sunday morning found us with a fridge full of carrot cake, lemon drizzle cake, pear tart and chocolate brownies. And no day can go wrong after that.

Especially not with visiting grandparents around to brush up on their cycling training skills, last used when Mr Coffee was a lad.


  1. d,

    Is that the canal which goes over the River Lune?

  2. They do a safari supper every year in my village. It was only this year I realised what it actually was.

    Prior to that, I thought it had something to do with pith helmets and big game hunting.

    I'm not entirely sure which of the two I'd find the most terrifying.

  3. Two things:

    1. my father is an obsessive safari supper person because it gives him the chance to tell his best stories 4 times in one evening.
    2.I am feeling VERY anxious about the image of a trainee cyclist child next to a canal. Sleepless level of anxious.

  4. Grandpa is a very snappy dresser, Mr Coffee has a great haircut, your self-portrait is fab and the safari supper sounds great from an eating standpoint but horrifying from a have-to-interact-with-people standpoint (is my antisocial nature showing?). Oh, and tell Alice not to worry -- Teeny Latte's grandad appears to have a nice solid grip on her.

  5. I just totally blew the spelling of granddad. How far I have plummeted...

  6. Oh the memories - my parents used to do them in the 70's, only they were dubbed 'progressive dinner parties'. Now I reckon it's a small step from that to tossing car keys in a bowl at the end of the evening...
    Somehow Safari Supper sounds much safer.

  7. maps! eek, the potential to get lost 4 times, count me out........

    the leftover cakes, now that I do like the sound of, in fact I'd be tempted to make sure the directions to my house were hopeless!!

  8. oh cakee temptation, its a while since I indulged in carrot cake...and can I just say that I loved it when you used the word "Umpteen" in my comments box, it happens to be my absolute faaave word of the moment.,,hope your umpteen bulbs shoot through soon

  9. LOL, I don't think we catholics are organised enough to get something like that together. The safari supper sounds like fun!

  10. Talk of yummy baked goods AND a self-portrait???

    Consider me pleasantly satiated.

    PS-Those flowers look F.A.K.E. Are you sure those aren't plastic?

  11. How odd -- we just had a progressive dinner in my neighborhood, which seems like pretty much the same thing except the whole collection of people troops from house to house to house. So as long as you can find the first house, you're fine. It was exhausting, though.

  12. Came from Jen at Knitters-Knitters. Here in Salt Lake at my Anglican church we don't do Safari suppers, we just do Neighborhood pot-lucks ... the Avenues group, the Eastside group. Of course guests are not limited to any particular neighborhood. Hmmm, maybe that does make us weird?


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