The sun has got his hat on

I made a summer dress. In the north of England, as October approaches, this was not the wisest of moves.

However. I'd had my eye on Simplicity 2444, and wanted to know if it would fit me, if it would suit me, and if I could make it without weeping. The recognised thing to do in this situation is to make a muslin, and the close proximity of one of the best factory shops in the world resulted in a muslin made of a Liberty cotton lawn.

£2.50 a metre. Am I trying to make you jealous? You know I am.

They say this week will be an Indian summer. I'm not holding out much hope. At least, not as much as I am for Simplicity 2444, which is my new Best Friend Forever. It goes in where I go in and out where I go out - a Very Good Thing - and though I could have done with an extra half inch at the bottom so I had more choice with the length, I'm very happy with it. I may make it a friendship bracelet from Littlest's big bag of ribbons. I may skip down the street with it, admiring the Autumn leaves. As long as I'm wearing thick tights and a woolly cardi.

 

 I bring my own sunshine wherever I go. 

(Anyone who knows me will be snorting

with derision right now.)

Doing a bunk

It's a well-documented fact that my children spend a lot of time fighting. Craft activities are a battle; gardening is a nightmare; watching television usually ends up with someone bearing physical scars and wailing. Though deep down the Lattes love each other, they do little on a daily basis to show it. Stuffing them into their respective rooms at the end of the day has been a relief.

And then, out of nowhere, they started to share a room.

It started with a few sleepovers in summer; occasional nights where Eldest's mattress would move onto Littlest's floor. And then the mattress never moved back. Late night chats were had; the children fidgeting in their room when the lights were meant to be out. There were even cuddles. Then Eldest came back from a school residential trip with a revelation - bunk beds.

We waited for them to go off the idea, but they didn't. Littlest - so proud of her room as a smaller child - relished the idea of giving it up. She would miss the curtains, but that was all. In a world where everyone talks about needing their own space, my children were categorically rejecting theirs.

It makes sense - a chance to collude behind your parents' backs, a chance to play 'house' with a sister. Eldest likes company, and Littlest isn't keen on going to sleep - the story CD must be left on at all times, and no mistakes must be made in the ritual switching on of landing lights and leaving doors ajar.

Even as adults, few of us want to be left alone in the dark.

So this week we are decorating; covering the pink paint that was applied to Eldest's room when she was three. (I can still remember her using the roller for all of, ooh, six seconds.) A lilac and neutral palette has been chosen, a clever loft bed has been ordered to go over Eldest's single bed.  Last night, we heard scuffling and went upstairs to find a groggy Littlest clambering onto her sister's mattress. It used to be our bed she staggered into in the night.

Growing up takes funny twists and turns.

A woman possessed

Hello. Are you still there? I have been in the cellar, where the sewing machine lives. I come up sporadically for cups of tea and to check that The Killing hasn't started a new series yet.

That dress I made? It kickstarted an obsession. I have spent the last couple of weeks sneaking off to the fabric shop to plunder their pattern sale. (I have to buy now! Before the sale ends! Must! Buy! More!)

My plans at the moment involve:

• A summery dress in a pattern which looks so lovely on this lady.(Why am I making a summer dress in the tail end of a hurricane? There are complex reasons for this, none of which bear close scrutiny at all.)
  
  
• A Vogue pattern which this lady makes again and again, so it must be good (we are ignoring for the moment the fact that both these women are substantially a) taller b) thinner and c) younger than I am. I will look just the same as they do. La la la. I can't hear you.)
  
  
• A full-length off-road wheelchair cosy based on this pattern  for my miserable whining ten-year-old, who spends her entire time in the outdoors moaning about being cold. (I know. This is just one big rectangle with a hole in. I could have made this up myself. But a pattern for £1.70! And I do so love the little envelopes!)
  
  
• A school pinafore dress for Littlest.

You people who always had several craft projects on the go at once, who constantly talked about your UFOs and your stash and your plans and your schemes? I never understood it. I read those posts, frowning, wondering why you weren't just drinking wine or reading a book or something. I'm sorry. So sorry. Please welcome me into your fold.

Here I am, with my armfuls of fabric, just waiting for your approval.

Our summer, rubber-stamped

I'm not here to reflect about summer. School may start tomorrow, but it's also just another day. I don't want to go all End of An Era on you.

I do think it's important, though, for the Lattes to remember that summer brought something different; that experiences were had. I usually buy scrapbooks in the summer and, though the scrapbooks will probably never get looked at again, I like the process of sticking down memories, of marking the fact that something special has taken place.

Also, it gives me something to do with the masses of flyers and brochures for castles and gardens and other attractions that we always pick up and end up bringing home.

It's not, to be perfectly honest, a pretty process. The Lattes are not careful scrapbookers. Stickers are slapped on. Jaggedy lines are cut. Writing is minimal and rarely legible; the scrapbook usually stops abruptly after several pages.

Still. It's all about the process, isn't it?

Many of you will remember the legendary blogger known as Eurolush. Every day without her online is another day of mourning - for her stunning nature photographs, her sewing expertise, and her own particular brand of bonkers. When the time came for her to pack up and leave Germany, the Lattes received the most enormous and spectacular parcel - craft materials outgrown by Eurolush's daughter. There were alphabet stickers of all different colours; gorgeous picture stickers in little plastic packets. There were hundreds of pipe cleaners, and a whole boxful of rubber stamps, including a set of alphabet stamps with the 'e' missing. (To be fair, we were quite hysterical opening the parcel. We probably lost the 'e'.) Cutting and sticking in the Coffee House moved up a good few notches that day, let me tell you. But there were times that we really wanted to say something with an 'e' in it.

So when the Wooden Toy Shop emailed to ask if I fancied trying some of their toys, it wasn't hard to make a choice.

 Alphabet stamp set, £14.95 and the Butterfly and Heart set, £5.79.

Now and then I'm offered toys to blog about, but more often than not I turn them down. This website struck a chord because some of their other stock brought back memories. The peg puzzle - the puzzle of choice for the disabled toddler with fine motor difficulties, to whom jigsaws are a ridiculous impossibility. The easy-access doll's house, which stood temptingly in the Child Development Centre through early physiotherapy sessions. This poppy-uppy thing. I'd searched far and wide for toys like these when Eldest was small, and here they all were in one place.

Even now, the wooden toy doesn't disappoint. Eldest might have long outgrown her peg puzzles, but now she wants to get her art things out and make posters. (Often these posters say: "No Entry! and "Go Away!" and are stuck to her bedroom door. You know. Whatever.) These stamp sets are great, and though they come with water-based ink it's easy to upgrade them with ink pads from the art shop, some embossing powder and a heat gun to help her achieve a more glimmery effect (which I have completely failed to capture, below).

 

(I was also sent a chalkboard eraser, just for me. A few years ago I thought it would be a great idea to paint a wall with blackboard paint. I was thinking along the lines of something like this when I did it, but what I actually got was a constant smudgy, scribbly mess. Beware the dreams that Blogland sells you, boys and girls.)

Anyway - back to the scrapbook. After the leaflets were snipped to pieces, we tried mind-mapping our holiday after getting Mind Maps for Kids - Max Your Concentration and Memory out of the library. I loved this process - of remembering things we had started to forget, of getting out the colouring crayons and talking over our summer. It made the thought of what was coming - the school uniforms, the packing of lunches, the loss of time - just that little bit more bearable.

The housekeeping just goes on and on

If someone emails you to offer you a free lunch, an art workshop for your children, an afternoon at the theatre AND a free vacuum cleaner, I'd challenge any of you to turn them down. Dirt Devil did just that this summer. And I'm not made of stone.

So. We drove to Manchester, and then the children disappeared - poof! and I got to eat sandwiches in peace and watch the vacuum company men fiddle with their equipment.

I did fall a little bit in love - as much as you can with a vacuum - with the Reach, and its 13m cleaning radious and its superlong hose. It claims to be able to reach across two tennis courts, and it was really, really light. We live in a house full of stairs; my vacuum is a good deal heavier than the Reach. The Reach has all sorts of useful gubbins for picking up pet hair, but as we don't have a pet I didn't really listen. I just sat there, full of longing.

This is my new vacuum - a lovely new handheld model. £59.99 to you.

It cleans things! It recharges! It has fancy brushes which mean you can actually use it as a back-up vacuum, not just something you use to do the car with. In fact, the only thing I don't like about this vacuum is the press release, which reads "now Dad can do his bit and keep the car fresh". Shame on you, Dirt Devil. This isn't the 1950s. Dad can vacuum the house.

My old handheld vacuum sucks. I mean, you know, that it doesn't suck too hard at all. I did have a much better one, but I gave it to my mother and replaced it with a cheaper one. Wisdom about contentment and happiness suggests that giving gifts and sharing what you have makes you happier. All it left me with this time was a crappy vacuum and a dirty car. I'm a much happier lady now, with my little rechargeable Dirt Devil. I've even seen Littlest using it.

The day took place at The Lowry in Manchester. It's ages since I went to the Lowry - last time I went there I saw Forkbeard Fantasy, and I'm not entirely sure if I only had one child at the time.

The theatre show - Mr Stink, by David Walliams - came with a scratch and sniff booklet. The action centered around a really smelly tramp, so nearly every scent inside was utterly hideous. The children waved them in delight.

So. May I humbly direct you to the Dirt Devil website, where they have a blog. It has celebrity gossip (I don't know) and tips about cleaning, including this great tip for pre-Christmas cleaning: "Before pulling the decorations down from the loft, de-clutter the entire house."

Sorry. I just snorted so hard that my head fell off.

Time for a little bit of housekeeping

There are a whole list of things I've failed to blog about this summer, and a whole list of reasons for not doing so. I haven't blogged out of idleness (ooh look, the wine is open, and a film is on); I haven't blogged because the USB port on the computer isn't working so the photos have to be loaded onto the laptop which is kept upstairs, and the stairs are tiring and the laptop runs much slower than the PC and my life is so hard; and I haven't blogged because my children have spent the whole summer beating one another to a pulp. I can't turn my back. I'm telling you.

So. I've done a few star jumps. I've found Eye of the Tiger on Youtube. Let's do this thing.

(For example, back in June (JUNE!) a woman from Douwe Egberts sent me some chocolates in a jar to mark the fact that the company had now started selling refill packs to cut down on packaging. I was supposed to eat the chocolates, fill the jar with something interesting and take a picture of it to share with you. I ate the chocolates. I had great plans for what I would put in the jar, but I ended up forgetting all about them and just putting coffee in it. Anyway. Douwe Egberts make coffee which goes in nice refillable jars. I think that was the gist of it. (There was a competition, but I've told you about it far too late for you to enter. What can I tell you. I'm only human.))

Many, many moons ago - and this is even before the Douwe Egberts Fail - we went to the Lakeland Wildlife Oasis for a very fine day out to see their new snow leopard. (Mr Coffee and I believe that 'snow leopard' is a worthy alternative to the term 'silver fox', by the way.)

I failed to take any decent pictures of the snow leopard, but here is a very attractive-looking, erm, birdish thing.

It is utterly fine to blog about this even though it was months ago, because the children revisited with The Grandmother this week. This makes it a Current Event, I'm sure you'll agree. If you're in the area, go visit! There's a snow leopard! For heaven's sake!

There's more to come. I haven't even told you about my new vacuum cleaner yet. Really. I need to tell you.

I'll finish off for today with a picture of the Portfolio dress, because so many of you asked to see it. (I'd like to throw my weight behind Duyvken's Operation Pinterest project - this is my contribution.) I like the dress; I don't like the dress. It's a very beautiful item - right up until the moment that I try to put my boobs into it, and then it begins to look slightly as if I have tried to dress myself in a large blue bag.

It has to be said, the full-length picture isn't the best photograph. I tried to take self-timed ones out in the garden, but you don't even want to know what they looked like.

I made it in a cotton dobby fabric, with a flat check from the exact same range as the contrast. Though I did look at picking up one of the bold colours in the fabric itself, it could have easily looked very alarming - I liked the slight contrast much better.


Mostly I like the pockets.

More housekeeping to come. Stay tuned.