to receive banana sweets

I love the taste and texture of bananas, and all things banana-related (hold on there, girls, I'm being serious here!).

To clarify, I'm talking about fresh bananas, barbecue bananas,  roasted bananas, banana loaf, banana pancakes, banana with chocolate fondue, banana milkshakes, banana smoothies (there's lots of banana in smoothies), banana ice cream, banoffee pie... I could go on, but will stop with these as they're all things that I've made and enjoy.  In addition to these, I love those 'penny' sweets - you know, the ones that are made from 'stuff' which is coloured yellow, flavoured then shaped into banana-like treats.  I know they're cheap and unhealthy, but I love them.

My banana obsession is known to all my close friends and family, so it was no surprise that on my birthday my son gave me a small parcel wrapped in tissue paper,  with a ribbon and a bow, and inside was a small 'bunch' of sweet bananas that I intend not to share, but to indulge myself in.  I've already started, but I'm saving some for later.  Opening the parcel in the evening when all my day's work is done, and treating myself to a banana goodie, just makes me smile. (just like a banana!)

to receive old-fashioned post

I get lots of post. Hold on a minute, I need to re-phrase that and start again.  Lots of post gets delivered to my house (that's far more accurate), and once I've sifted out the parcels from ebay, Amazon and Asos (almost a daily delivery - that's what happens when you have two daughters!) all that's usually left is junk mail, bills and statements (why do they keep sending these when I have opted out of paper copies?).

Now and again  may get a white envelop, but the franking and pre-printing give away the fact that it's yet another offer for cable tv, cheap insurance or a credit card, and rarely, very rarely, I get an item of post that puzzles and excites me - yes, it does excite me really (but then again I lead a sheltered life!).  This week I have had two of those days as my doormat welcomed me home with unexpected visitors of a very pleasant kind.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and today I had a card through the post from a friend who lives quite close by, but who often posts stuff, maybe because she knows what a pleasure and surprise it is to be on the receiving end, or maybe because it's easier to pop a card into the post box than to think about when to call round. Whatever the reason I approve wholeheartedly - a coloured envelop too so I could see as I came down the stairs that there was something special waiting.

When I came home from work on Wednesday there was another coloured envelop waiting for me - this time all the way from Nepal.  One of my very lovely friends has been travelling around India, Nepal and surrounding areas for a few of years now (I joined her for a couple of weeks last year) and we keep in touch regularly by email, but seeing the words in her handwriting felt all the more personal - I could hear her talking to me as I read the letter and found myself talking back (in my head - I'm not that weird!).

The best things about real post though (there's two of them) are that firstly, you can keep, read, and re-read to your heart's content, reliving old memories that, when combined, tell a story that my deleted chain of emails don't, and secondly, you get to hold, touch, turn and even smell the paper (especially the one from Nepal!) - a really tactile experience.  Seeing, picking up and reading the letter and cards that have plopped through my letterbox this week, just makes me smile.

to take props out (again) with friends

I've mentioned it before, but I'll say it again: I have great friends.  Not only are they generous, kind, supportive and all the things you need in a friend, but they're great fun.  If you are ever in doubt that life begins at 40 (and continues with style after 50), then let me know and perhaps I'll invite you along with my friends for a night out - you won't be disappointed!

Now and again, just to add a little variety, we take along some kind of 'prop' on a night out, and last Saturday was one of those nights.  In the past, amongst other things,  we have taken introduction cards, dice pegs, knickers, and the 'Handbag of Glory' (due to make a re-appearance).  There are stories to all of these, but I'll have to save them for another day, as last weekend was time for us to dress up, scrub up, get along to a biker's pub to hear some live music, and in an attempt to fit in we needed also to don our best moustaches.  One of the best things about props is that they shouldn't cost much, and this time was no exception - just a couple of quid between us and we were ready to go.

The moustaches went down well and were a great ice-breaker (see pictures below - can you guess what famous people's lip hair we were wearing?), but the funniest thing was watching where they ended up as the evening wore on.  My friends are artists in sleight of hand, and it seemed as though nobody went past without a hairy addition to their shoulder, back or bum.  As I sat at the bar, spotting the moustaches and half-moustaches on their new owners, who would be waking up the next day wondering how and where they had grown the new accessory, it made me smile.

to go out wearing a new posh frock

The only thing I don't like about holidays is the unpacking, I don't mind coming home (too much) as I can look forward to seeing the people I've missed, and I always especially like the first night back in my own bed, but finding a place for all the holiday 'stuff' is a pain, as is washing and ironing the clothes.  It's such a chore that I found myself, at the end of last week, finally getting round to putting away all the outfits from my June and July holidays which was when I realised that I have too many clothes; way too many dresses - posh frocks that I don't have occasion to wear and casual ones that either don't fit or don't look good any more, too many casual tops and skirts that don't particularly look good together (the tops would go better with trousers, but I rarely wear trousers..) and the remnants of a 'working' wardrobe harking back to the days when I wore suits.

After cramming all the stuff into limited space I made an important decision: I'm not going to buy a single item more until I've sorted, sifted and drastically minimised my collection, which I will do when I've lost weight and can try everything on to make a measured and unemotional decision on what will stay and what will go.  ( I say unemotional as I think I've kept some stuff as I thought it looked/would look good once but don't really know).  It felt better to make the decision to rationalise, even if I couldn't yet follow it through.

Fast forward just two days, and I was out shopping - not for clothes, please understand, but for a work bag that I desperately need as mine has broken.  I can add an extra excuse for the shopping: it was so damned hot this weekend, we weren't near enough to the sea to go there for the day so shops were the coolest option.  Within an hour I had the perfect bag at a perfect price, but also three new dresses..... what is wrong with me?  ('I'm just a girl who can't say no'? 'I can resist everything but temptation'?)

To be fair, they look lovely on,  are very different to each other, were bargains and I've already worn two of them.  Standing in front of the mirror, wearing the grey silk-ish number from Planet, my resolution from two days earlier sprang to mind, but I didn't feel in the least guilty... it just made me smile.

to see my efforts appreciated

Following my last post, I did indeed tear myself away from the sofa (and from my kindle and the TV - I've been re-reading Pride and Prejudice and quite fancied watching Colin Firth again so it was quite a sacrifice) and immersed myself in making a cake for my nephew's birthday.  I needed a challenge, something new to do rather than the usual family birthday cake, so thought I'd have a go at Lorraine Pascal's 'hidden zebra' cake (BBC 2 Monday, http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01m28l5/Lorraines_Fast_Fresh_and_Easy_Food_Easy_Entertaining/ cake is about 24 minutes in).  It's a bit of a faff, but then again, I sometimes like to faff and fiddle about, it's therapeutic.

I watched the video above but wondered about adding the flour early - it didn't seem right, so checked out the recipe in the book when I picked up ingredients in the supermarket and it was wrong on TV, so if you make it do it by the book!  It takes a while as you need to pipe the mix into the tin, but the finished result is impressive so it's worth it

Further fiddling and faffing about and I had made chocolate letters to spell out his name, and a few swirls and twirls later and it was ready to go.  Two hours later the cake had been demolished and is now a thing of the past - all the work and the pleasure is over so soon.  I used to hear myself saying 'it's not worth making a cake as they never last more than a day', but realised I was being immensely silly, and now when a cake goes before I can take a a photo (which I completely forgot to do), it just makes me smile.

watching 'The Great British Bake Off'

I watch far too much t.v.  I know that I do it, and I don't like the fact, but still I settle down on the sofa after dinner and am often still glued there at 11 p.m., even if there is nothing worth viewing.  If we were approaching a new year, I'd make it a resolution to switch off the box in favour of music, reading or some other pastime (use your imagination), but maybe even though it's not, I'll do it.

However, there's one programme that I just won't miss, and I'm already looking forward to next Tuesday just because of the return of the Great British Bake Off (BBC 2, 8 p.m.)  It really is great - understated, gentle, modest but with an allure that tempts me to get off my backside and create something lovely in the kitchen.  This week I want to make an upside down cake (chocolate with pears) and I didn't realise that you need to make a caramel which goes into the tin first.  I'll also make a hidden shape cake, once I decide on the shape (I'm thinking of a message running through it which says 'eat me', just in case I even think of not having an extra piece), and I may even try my hand at rum babas, which I can't remember ever eating, but must must have in the 70's when they were on the menu at Wimpy bars.  If I don't do one of these I'll make a lovely coloured sponge and decorate it all over with buttercream roses so that it looks like a wedding hat - I'm inspired!

We've already lost one contestant who boiled her rum babas in a bain-marie (ooh-er vicar!) and then soaked her cake in so much rosewater and pressed it to such an extent that it looked like a blancmange.  Others made mistakes too but overall the cakes looked so delicious I could almost smell and taste them.  Watching this group of very ordinary but very skillful people do precisely what I love doing and should do more often, made me smile.

to see the best of British on display during the closing ceremony

I don't know what I was hoping for or expecting last night, but I was not in the slightest bit disappointed.  Whatever your music taste and age, there must have been something for you to enjoy and sing along with, and something to bring a smile to your face. When I start to list my favourites I get quite carried away... Elbow (I love that song), Ed Sherran (Wish you were here..), The Who (legends) spring to mind, but wait, I've forgotten the videos of John Lennon and Freddie Mercury, Kaiser Chiefs representing the mod era, and Take That finishing the show with 'Rule the World' (another favourite, on my IPod).

So, in summary, I sat for a number of hours last night in the company of my two beautiful daughters, 'munching' on maltesers, minstrels and kettle chips and had every reason to smile the night away, but when the Morris Dancers, Flying Nuns and Eric Idle appeared, I laughed out loud.  Yes, always look on the bright side of life.

just to be in London

I was born in London (south of the river) and have lived there all of my life (north of the river) and I love the place: the people, the buildings, the sights, the atmosphere and the events - all London has to offer.  Some people say that Londoners are unfriendly: we're not.  London is a huge commuter city and commuters are busy and focused, but that doesn't make London unfriendly at all - give us a try, you'll see.
I travelled through London yesterday and back again today as I was spending a night away in Lymington (Oh I do like to be beside the seaside!) with JR (plenty in that to smile about, but I'll leave those kinds of details to a night out with the girls) and I was struck yet again by the vibrancy of our capital city.  Trains - overground and underground - arrived on time and with spaces to sit, announcements were audible, snappy and friendly, there were police officers on every platform, chatting to the public, and lots and lots of Olympic volunteers on their way to and from their duties as well as those on duty at Waterloo.  So everything was running smoothly, but to top it all there were thousands of happy people chatting together (friends and strangers alike) creating an exciting buzzing atmosphere.
Looking around me, people watching and admiring the views, I felt uplifted, and proud to be British - more specifically, to be a Londoner.  It's great to feel a sense of pride... it made me smile.

just making a simple victoria sandwich

I love baking - raw cake mixture is one of my favourite things (followed closely by cooked cake mixture!) and the smell of the ingredients and heat of the oven bring back such happy memories.  My Nanna used to bake when we visited her in Gloucester, beating the mixture in a huge brown and cream basin which she held under her arm.  She'd always leave loads of cake mix in the bowl for us to have 'scrapings', and then would over-load bun tins so that the fairy cakes had little rims that we'd nibble away at before tucking into and downing the whole cake.  (Why is food that you 'play' with so much more fun?  How do you eat your Jaffa cakes?)
My kids still get excited when I bake, and still fight over the bowl.  Simple pleasures.  Of all the fancy cakes we bake and eat, a plain old fashioned sponge is still my favourite.  My house smells divine, I'm still licking my lips tasting the raw mixture, and if I wasn't desperately trying to counter-act my over-indulgence last week, I'd be burying my face in the cake right now!  Delicious tastes and smells, and wonderfully happy memories, which always make me smile.

to see grown up women downing shots with such style!

Our annual holiday in Swanage is always a treat, and always brings back happy memories as we re-new friendships and re-acquaint ourselves with all that Swanage and the Isle of Purbeck have to offer.  This year was no different, with our stay timed (again) to coincide with the Swanage Carnival, in which we now take part (another story!).  Once again we walked (a little), paddled (a bit) ate fresh local produce and cream teas (a lot), drank Pimm's (in the interest of donating to charity of course), watched the fireworks from the Pier (with accompanying fish, chips and wine - all consumed on the grassy banks overlooking the stone pier)), sampled hand-made chocolate from Chococo (delicious) and 'mooched' around the shops to see what was new and what was re-assuringly the same.

So what was new?  Well, this year it was the added dimension of new friends made following my friend's approach to the carnival committee seeking support for funding of a holiday home for disabled servicemen, women and their families (another long story, but some amazing people responded and two years later the 'lodge' is there - see http://www.heroes-haven.org.uk), and what an added dimension this has brought!  We have grown quite close to the Heroes Haven committee, but now also are beginning to get to know some of the carnival committee and volunteers, mainly through hanging about the Pimm's or beer tent together with the introductions from the HH committee - if they had an afternoon tea tent, we'd be there all day!

Being on the committee during Carnival is hard work, but we were reliably informed that many of the ladies would be free on Thursday evening for the Masquerade-themed night in the town, meeting at half 8 at the 'Snack Bar' (http://www.snackbarswanage.co.uk/).  This was a place I hadn't been to before, and as the average age (including me) was probably 60-something, perhaps I could be forgiven for thinking it may be an early night after a coffee or two?  How could I be so wrong?  Snackbar is a trendy cocktail bar, and by the time we arrived it was rammed to the hilt, overspilling onto the street, with great love music playing.  I was at the bar choosing my first cocktail when the first round of vodka shots was passed around the group of ten or more, followed swiftly by the second, then later... well, I lost count - but suffice to say my first experience of caramel vodka was one I'd be happy to repeat! (I've making some at the moment, so watch this space!)

What struck me though, was that yes, we were drinking shots, but with style - no swearing, vomiting, aggression or (sadly perhaps) loose behaviour often associated with this kind of drink.  It wasn't a binge, but it was great fun, and a lesson to all: there's really no need to try to cram in all the fun, all the drinking, dancing, singing along and socialising before you reach thirty.  Life goes on and life can be bloody good fun, if you have the right attitude and the right people around you.   I'm lucky: I usually have both and am very grateful for this.  As I stood on the street outside the bar, singing, dancing and watching my friends, it made me smile.