Early Saturday mornings often contain one of life's most perfect moments for me. First off I get that stomach churning feeling when I open my eyes and think for a brief moment that I've over slept and am late for the morning preparations for work/school. Then right afterwards there it is :: The Perfect Moment :: that slow, blissful realisation that the weekend is here and all is well and the clock can be ignored. Ahhhhhhhhhhh, what a feeling that is!
And on Saturday morning, I experienced that exact Perfect Moment, yes I did, and it was bloomin' marvelous! There's something wonderfully luxurious about waking up and digesting the knowledge that the next 48 hours of ones life is totally unplanned, unstructured and can be filled with whatever pleasures and activities tickles ones fancy. Within reason of course.
Now if one starts the weekend experiencing a Perfect Moment such as this, one has to go about making the right sort of Perfect Breakfast to follow. Them's the rules in our house. And in the absence of pain au chocolat (Perfect Breakfast of choice), I opt to make scotch pancakes. Such a lovely thing to be involved with at 8:45am on a Saturday morning. J is in the kitchen with me making coffee and I say to him :: there's something so Homely and Comforting about making these pancakes, something kind of simply wonderful about standing at the cooker, quietly dropping blobs of thick batter onto a hot frying pan and creating these golden, bubbly circles for my family to eat. The Little People adore these pancakes, they are quick and easy to make (recipe can be found here), and I think they would score a pleasure factor of 9/10, for both production and consumption.
The morning continues, leisurely and relaxed :: 10am and I decide I need to bake.
I go through various baking possibilities and opt for lemon cake.
I am dressed accordingly, in pj's, dressing gown and pink fluffy slippers, with apron slung over the top for good measure.
I measure and whisk and zest and squeeze and the house slowly fills with the delicious scent of Saturday lemony baking.
J and I have morning coffee together and chat about how we would like to fill our afternoon. It's decided that we would like to walk to town and Shop a little, which is quite unusual for us. So on the spur of the moment, he rings his parents and asks if they would like to come have lunch and spend an hour or two looking after our offspring whilst we go Shopping. Of course they agree (oh my in-laws are the most lovely wonderful people), and so on Saturday afternoon we find ourselves at the top of the high street with two child-free hours of shopping stretching ahead. But before hitting the shops we decide to call into the town church. For no reason, other than the mood took us. It was beautiful, peaceful, serene. Unlike the shops, which were busy, chaotic and er, well un-serene, whatever that word is.
I am trying to find my festive spirit, it continues to hide. The shops were so unmistakably shouting out the C word to me, yet I could not quite get into the swing of it. We bought clothes, food, logs. Nothing festive at all, although I was quite tempted by this chocolate army.
When we got home, I made mulled wine and even put on some Christmas tunes. Yet I am still not quite there with it yet. But it will come to me soon enough, I know it will. Maybe next weekend when we go through the Purchasing of The Tree. Maybe then I will be full of C-spirit.
Early evening, 6pm or thereabouts. We have a picnic dinner in front of the fire, then ,J and Little Man play dominoes and Little Lady and I snuggle on the sofa together.
She is telling me a story about something or the other (it was very long winded and involved various Barbie Dolls doing various things, I confess I switched off a little). We play some hand games :: round and round the garden, one potato two potato. There is quite a lot of tickling and giggling involved, and I am in the happiest place.
Saturday was a Great Day.
Sunday morning comes around, and all is well. Various children come and go throughout the morning. In and out, they alternate between playing outside in the remaining snow and coming inside to run and shout and invent games or sit quietly making Hama bead creations and watching films.
I choose to sit here and alternate my time between crocheting and losing myself inside the pages of my latest magazine.
...and these knitted cakes (a Christmas present suggestion).
I continue to really enjoy my weekly magazine-fest, enjoy immersing myself in the pages, drooling and swooning my way through the styling ideas, the shopping suggestions, the recipes, the seasonal inspirations, not to mention other peoples houses and lifestyles and creations.
Sunday afternoon, 3pm, and we wrap up warm in coats and hats and scarves and gloves and head out into the darkening day. It's our town's annual Christmas Festival. The high street has been closed to cars and filled with festivities. A brass band plays Christmas carols, and there are stalls selling Christmas wreaths, hot roasted chestnuts, mince pies, mulled wine. And lo and behold bits of a fairground have magically appeared...
...the Little People are so stunned to see all this where there is normally a road, they are lost for words. They can't quite believe what they are seeing. A carousel...
4pm and we watch a procession of children walk up the street carrying hand made paper lanterns lit inside with candles. The brass band is walking too, and we all go up to the churchyard to sing Christmas carols. Little Man is busily chasing Little Lady around the gravestones with his giant inflatable hammer. They are shrieking with laughter, which clashes embarrassingly with O Little Town of Bethlehem.
So we leave the church and the town and head back in the dark to number 24, to hearth and home. We are loving our fire this winter, it's giving us endless, cosy, fireside pleasure. It's hard to photograph though :: I wanted to try and show you the coloured flames produced by these but the colours didn't come out very well. Ah well, you can imagine me can't you though, curled up on the sofa in front of the fire doing my thing...
...yup, crocheting of course. I got myself into a little bit of a hooking frenzy this weekend as the end of the hexagon blanket came into sight. I don't think I've ever managed to crochet so fast and for so long. I turned out hex after hex after hex until finally, finally, when my fingers were almost too stiff to do any more, the last one was completed at 10.30pm last night, just as the fire was dying down to embers,. I am now working a bit of an edging to it, and can't wait to show you when it's all completely finished.
Yes, Sunday was a Great Day too.
In fact, the whole weekend remains locked in my memory as one big long extended Perfect Moment. Hope yours was too?