Ahhh here we are again, Monday morning and another week rolling in. Is it just me or does 2009 seem to be made of extra super speedy whizzy days? I feel I can hardly keep up with this month.
As is often the case on Mondays, todays post has formed as a direct result of whats-on-the-camera after the weekend has been and gone. This is a tale of an ordinary, no-frills Simple January Saturday. A day typical of weekends spent at home when nothing has been planned and the weather outside is slightly off putting. When there is no particular need to hurry, and no particular need to do anything much. I find that these sorts of days, for me, often turn out to contain the most happy, relaxed, unexpectedly blissful little snippets of family life.
I expect there are several other remarkably similar posts in my archives...remember this post from the end of December? And this one from October? Oh and yes, hang on, I'm thinking also of this post, crikey, was that really as far back as April??? Lordy, there has been a lot of gas bagging in the Attic since way-back-then!
I spent a delightful few hours on Saturday morning sat in bed. Nesting. Snuggling. Tea-drinking and hooking. It was quite honestly a most delightful little bit of me-time (once husband was out of my "nest" and the Little People were engaged in various activities downstairs). I am continuing to love-love-love working my Summer Garden blanket, it has me totally blissed out. And just look how charming it looks next to the ripple! They are made from different yarns, but both being Rowan, the colours are so in tune don't you think? Oh, they are going to be such good buddies these two blankies.
At about 9am or thereabouts, I hear fast running footsteps coming up the stairs.
Little Man comes racing in.
He has wide, excited eyes, and is all flushed and full of that bursting sort of excited energy that is particular to six year olds.
He is trying to tell me something but is talking so fast his words tumble out all in a muddle.
eventually get the jist of what he is saying...he tells me he has been
busy in the kitchen and that he has made bun-mixture. Yes, Real
All. By. Himself. No Help!! Quick, quick, come see!! COME NOW!!!!
Truthfully I am enjoying my quiet hooky time in my nest, but slowly the words that I have heard reach my brain and I begin to compute the reality of what has been taking place downstairs. Little man, in the kitchen, concocting bun-mixture with no help? Sounds very ominous indeed, and potentially very very messy.....
I venture downstairs and yes, messy is right. Flour is everywhere.
I start to moan, a low, slow moan.
He tells me not to worry cos he has tidied away and put all the dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
I moan louder, because I realise that the dishwasher has not been emptied yet and he has dumped all his dirty bowls in on top of the clean ones.
Everything is floury and oily.
The moan becomes a loud shouty bellow. I am so cross.
Yet he stands and takes it, and says sorry, and he shows me the mixing bowl full of his very own bun-mixture.
It is lumpy and runny looking.
And I look at it, and look at his excited little face and suddenly
feel overwhelmed with love and pride as he tells me how he tried very
hard to remember how I make buns and put all the right ingredients in. He put flour, butter, sugar, an egg, some oil and a little water. My heart is almost bursting as he tells me all this.
He begs me to help him bake it.
How can I refuse?
He spoons the running, lumpy mixture into bun cases and in to the oven to see if by some miracle there will be buns.
And look!! He actually made buns! Can you imagine the excitement??!!
Oh, it was absolutely one of the most precious moments when those buns came out the oven.
He asks me to help him make icing and proceeds to select all his decorating ingredients. He is very familiar with my baking drawer I notice.
Later that morning, he has a friend come to call, and they eat all six buns between them.
Oh how I laughed!
1.37pm, after lunch and I quietly gather up my crochet, tea and bun (one of my own buns you notice) and tiptoe quietly out of the sitting room, up two flights of stairs and close myself in the Attic. J doesn't like it when I go up to the Attic at weekends, he thinks for some reason that I am up to no good when I am up here at weekends.
I settle in to the window seat and work quietly on my bathroom bunting.
It's beautifully peaceful, and I watch sunshine and shadows roll out over the hills.
The crochet bunting works out far better than I ever imagined it would. I am incredibly thrilled with it. It's jolly and fun and quirky and bright and happy looking.
And of course, completely useless. HA!! I just adore bunting for being so totally pointless, but unashamedly good all the same.
I feel as if I am six years old, I am all wide-eyed and flushed and excited as I run around the house with my string of useless crochet, exclaiming to myself (!!) and trying it out along shelf edges, along the top of windows, over mirrors, along my mantle. I am mentally planning at least a dozen more strings in various colours to go all over the house.
Edited to add :: Bunting-lovers, the pattern/tutorial will be coming very soon xx