Friends

Edinburgh nights

Some people say the original spirit of the Edinburgh Fringe has gone; that raw young comedians like Peter Cook and Dudley Moore, who got their first breaks at Edinburgh, would never nowadays be 'discovered' here. Others point out that we Edinburgh residents either a) take the annual August carnival in our city horribly for granted, unmoved by having the world's biggest arts festival here on our doorsteps or, b) get annoyed at the thespy types who invade our home city, taking over local cafes and bars, smoking and shoving leaflets into our hands at every turn, all while taking themselves much too seriously. Some say all that fun, innovation and excitement from when the Fringe started in the immediate post-war years has shrivelled under the dullness of corporate spreadsheets.

But I'm not so sure. I'm looking at the picture I was lucky enough to acquire on Friday evening. In it a crescent moon is glowing above the spires of St Stephen's Church. Next to it twinkles a star. Bernie O'Donnell - a local artist, friend and neighbour - tells me that Jupiter appeared above St Stephen's Church back in the winter of 2002, when she first began painting this picture. The moon and star are what you notice first, but if you look again more carefully, it is possible also to make out Georgian tenement buildings, standing four stories high, underneath the planet of Jupiter. Their contours softened by the light from a sinking sun. Acrylic paint has made them a beacon of smudgy warmth. For months, I pushed my daughter home from nursery along these same streets in the tank-like buggy, blind in one eye following complications with the birth of my second child. We had some good times - like when daughter shouted out "moon", or, at other times, "star". But sometimes, if daughter was tired at the end of a long day, like most two-year-olds, she didn't bother talking, she just wailed. And there were many times when I felt like joining her. Perhaps that's why I like this picture so much - its serenity allows you to forget the pavement-level struggles.

Further down the picture, the deep blue of the Edinburgh sky mellows into turquoise, and then into yellow, as it touches the black hulk of St Stephen's, where a troupe of actors has again taken up residence this year. Bernie's love of Edinburgh shines through in this picture, as it does in so much of her work. It is people like Bernie, you see, who keep the original spirit of the Fringe alive. On Friday evening she held a private view of her Fringe exhibition - in her own home. "Hello Helen," she said, when she saw me looking through a box of pictures in the room that normally serves as her sitting room. "Lovely to see you. I see you've found something you like. Tell me, have I already given you a picture for the girls?" She picked up the print and put it into my hands. "For the children".

Exhibition by Bernie O'Donnell, 48 Cumberland Street, Edinburgh, EH3 6RG. Runs until 5 September. From 12 till 5pm (not Sunday).

Posted 10 August 2009 22:05 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Edinburgh Festival Friends

Moon Walk - part one

If I'm being honest, I had serious doubts about whether I'd manage the thirteen miles for the Half Moon, but a combination of adrenalin, friendship, group solidarity and pasta got me over the finish line in Inverleith Park at 4.27am on Sunday. I staggered home at 5am and have only stopped sleeping since then to phone friends and family, take hot baths and gorge on yet more carbohydrates. We arrived at the giant pink fluorescent tent about 9pm the night before, checked out the loos, got temporary tattoos, took photos and feasted on the pasta the organisers had provided for all the walkers. We sat on the tent floor and arranged our decorated bras while a band called Swing Cats played. A doctor from a local hospital here in Edinburgh told us how the money raised is going to build a second operating theatre and rebuild the breast cancer ward there. She was crying as she spoke. Then we all stood up, linked hands and had a minute's silence while we thought about loved ones affected by breast cancer. Tears were pouring down many people's faces. The mood lightened when an aerobics instructor got on stage and had us all - all ten thousand of us, men as well as women, young and old - dancing and warming up.

Hundreds of Edinburgh residents came out onto the streets to cheer us on. A thousand volunteers stayed up all night to keep us all going, waiting on street corners to encourage us and give us bottles of water. Paramedics were driving about on quad bikes. The police held up traffic for us. Drivers tooted their horns. My sister was high-fiving people on the pavement who'd come to cheer us on.

A night to remember.

Further write-ups to follow.... when I've recovered sufficiently.

Posted 22 June 2009 21:25 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Activities Edinburgh Friends Health Pelvic girdle pain/SPD

Moon Walk

It's less than a week to go now until I set off with thousands of other men and women to walk a half-marathon in this year's Edinburgh Moon Walk to raise money to fight breast cancer. I have been worrying about making a idiot out of myself during this event, since I'll be wearing just a decorated bra and leggings for the occasion, with nothing to cover my flabby stomach from the elements. I'm nervous as hell about the challenge, not just because of the exposed flesh, but because I haven't done as much training as I should have done and I still have residual pelvic problems from my pregnancy-related pelvic girdle pain. But I'm going to get round that course. One reason why I'm not giving up is my on-line blog friend Iota, who often comments on this site and can be found at Not Wrong But Different writing about expatriate life as a British woman in the US. She and I have never met in real life, since our lives are separated by the Atlantic Ocean, but I like to think that if circumstances had been different and we lived closer to each other we would be the greatest of friends, in and out of each other's homes, sharing lots of silly jokes, quaffing white wine, enjoying the same pleasure in laughing at the ridiculous. We are from similar backgrounds and of similar ages. We both enjoy writing. We both have young families. When my daughter Button was born, Iota sent a present for her, wooden alphabet letters spelling out Button's real non-blog name that Va-vay took great pride in attaching to her bedroom door, and a book for Button's elder sister Beanie. You know the sort of person I mean, don't you? Iota is one of life's good people. Then not long ago, she discovered a lump in her breast. The lump turned out to be cancer. Iota has just had to undergo a double mastectomy. She's done so with exemplary courage and dignity, but still doesn't yet know if that's been enough for her to nail this disease. So walking thirteen miles in a bra across Edinburgh at night-time doesn't seem like much to ask in comparison. I know that times are tough for lots of us right now, but if any of you are feeling generous, please click on this link to sponsor me.

Posted 16 June 2009 13:39 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Edinburgh Friends Health Pelvic girdle pain/SPD

Giant step for womankind

Anyone who saw me seven months ago, when pelvic pain in pregnancy made it a struggle to reach the end of the street, might be surprised - and pleased too, I hope - to hear I've signed up for this year's Moon Walk - a fund-raiser for Walk the Walk, a charity which supports women affected by breast cancer and funds research into this dreaded illness. It's amazing the difference a few months and some decent physiotherapy can make. The walk will take me, together with my fellow walker and great friend Vanessa from Fidra Books, much further than the end of the street. Together with around 12,000 other people, we'll be walking 13 miles through the darkened streets of Edinburgh on the night of 20th/21st June. A close friend of mine is fighting breast cancer and my mother has recently lost a friend to it. Nearer the time, I'll be asking you if you can spare a few quid in sponsorship for this fantastic cause.

We have begun our training. But no point in overdoing things. Vanessa, who writes here about her motivation for doing the walk, and I are building up slowly to the full 13 miles. This is humbling. Five years ago, I could walk 20 miles in a day without undue effort. Last week we managed our first two practice walks - of three miles. It was knackering. My legs hurt. My pelvis hurt. Worst of all, my pride hurt. This week, we might - might - tackle four miles.

But what a difference compared to being pregnant with Button. One Saturday in summer last year, ten days overdue, I made it as far as the fabric department of a local store. Quite an achievement in those days. All around us, women were trying out pink feathers, sequins and ribbons, giggling and holding them up to their chests to see what they looked like. "What's going on?" I asked the assistant. "It's the Moon Walk tonight," she explained. "It's to decorate their bras for the Moon Walk. To raise money for breast cancer." That was my introduction to the event. I'm thrilled - and only just a little bit daunted - that this year, all being well, I'll be out walking the walk too.

Coming up soon: reviews of My Bump and Me, by Myleene Klass, and Instructions Not Included; One Mum, Three Boys and a Very Steep Learning Curve, by Charlotte Moerman.

Posted 23 February 2009 12:54 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Button Edinburgh Friends Out and about Pelvic girdle pain/SPD

Happy Birthday Zornhau

One of the nicest things about blogging has been the Friends Reunited aspect: getting back in touch with old friends I haven't seen in years. My friend Zornhau and I more or less grew up together. Then we lost touch: I moved away to London, he stayed in Edinburgh. I kept in occasional contact with his sister. I went to her wedding, she drove two hundred miles to come to mine, even though she was in early pregnancy and looked wretched. We sent presents for each other's babies. I heard snippets from her about Zornhau's life.

Twenty years after I last saw Zornhau I was pushing a buggy along an Edinburgh street when I bumped into him by chance. We chatted for a few minutes. Both married. One child each. Me a daughter. Him a son. Working in similar areas. We talked of house renovations, flats and primary schools. Good, grown-up stuff. "Do you have a blog?" he said, as we parted. "Yes, Mother at Large," I yelled into the wind. Thank you, Va-vay, for what must have been a memorable blog address. We renewed our friendship via our blogs.

Last Friday was Zornhau's 40th birthday. It was lovely to help him, his wife and their many, many friends celebrate. There were lots of people - yes, real people - there I've only ever known as people commenting on his site. So I got to meet the blokes behind blog names like Calcinations, The Hat and Single Point. There was also a group of people I remember from the teenage party years. Zornhau's wife pointed out a man standing at the bar. "That's Michael," she said. "You'll remember him from when you were growing up." I peered at the bar, looking for a shy and gangly teenager. No-one there fitted the bill. I looked at her in puzzlement.

"There," she said gently. "In front of you." I looked again. The Michael I remembered had gone, bulked out into a full-grown man. This bloke was confident. Could hold a conversation. Look a woman in the eye. He even had a girlfriend, for goodness sake. Others from our gang of friends were there. It was fantastic to see them. Though we all of us - amazingly - seemed to have aged twenty years overnight. And some of them turned out to be behind blog names I've seen on Zornhau's site and elsewhere. That's the thing about blogging - you never quite know where you are.

Posted 20 April 2008 14:18 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Blogging Friends

Weekend, or, what if you die?

Shedworking, one of my favourite sites, is running a theatre review I wrote for them about a production of Walden, a one-man show from Magnetic North about a man who flees civilisation to live in isolation in a hut in the woods. It was great fun going to the theatre (they even gave me a complimentary press ticket, something I haven't enjoyed in years) and because I went on my own I chatted to other people in the audience afterwards. Nothing to do with late parenting, but a mini-highlight of the weekend.

Somewhat closer to home, Va-vay, Beanie and I went to our local Home Birth Support Group at the weekend. Beanie was entranced when a pregnant lady stuck her tongue out at her (in a friendly way) - and revealed a rather splendid tongue piercing. I knew I needed the Support Group after I told a friend last week I was planning a home birth and he said: "What if you die?" Huh. It's one thing for me to criticise the NHS, but I don't like it when other people do. The Support Group nodded and smiled when I recounted all this, before bursting into tears, and said they hear this kind of thing a lot. They said that statistically home births are safer than hospitals. That people who are negative about you having a home birth are often just worried for you. Beanie beamed as I sat cross-legged on the floor, weeping, then made friends with a small boy wearing a T-Shirt saying "Born at Home". Although not yet two years old herself, Beanie loves pointing out "babies" she sees out and about, saying the word "baby" in great excitement, as if the child in question belongs to a different generation from herself. When in fact there's an age gap of twelve months between them. She spent the rest of the event cuddling the "baby". His mum was there too. Alive and well.

Other News

A friend is organising a fertility afternoon at the Aditi Yoga Centre in Edinburgh on Sunday 2 March from two till five. This is a chance to hear expert speakers on how to improve the chances of becoming pregnant, maintaining a healthy pregnancy and much more. Topics covered include acupuncture, chinese herbal medicine, homeopathy, mind and the body, natural ovulatory cycle, nutrition and yoga. Open to all. Donation £5 per person.

Posted 04 February 2008 11:01 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Activities Angst Childbirth Daughters Dilemmas Friends Fun Health Home birth Out and about Pregnancy

Party time

DJ Kirkby is having a party over at her place to celebrate her diagnosis with Asperger Syndrome. DJ is a long-time supporter of this blog and has been unfailingly generous in sharing her time and wisdom on the site. So do please pop along and say hello if you haven't already.

Posted 22 January 2008 13:22 | Number of comments: 4 | Comments

Friends

Enchanted

The first-trimester nausea has gone, so I suggest a cinema trip to an old friend. "Sure," she texts back. "How about The Kite Runner?" I look it up on-line and am scared even reading about it. No way can my addled hormones handle a story of childhood betrayal, exile, civil war, the Taliban and sexual violence. I suggest something called Enchanted - a romantic comedy that looks sufficiently non-threatening. "OK, see u there 30 mins before," texts my friend.

The only other people in the audience are teenage girls (this is the evening showing). We are the oldest people there by about twenty years. I sense that the matinees are probably full of eight-year-old girls.Does it matter? Not a bit. The 2-D animated opening introduces us to Giselle and her magical animal friends who frolic and sing in the woods. Friend and I exchange looks. I pretend to be mock-horrified - but deep down I'm loving this film. Giselle meets a handsome prince, who asks her to marry him. She accepts. But on the day of the wedding, his evil stepmother, Queen Narissa, steps in to stop the marriage, knowing she will no longer be queen if her son marries.

Narissa throws Giselle down a wishing well, saying she'll send her to a place 'where there are no happy-ever-afters' - this turns out to be modern-day Manhattan. However, here (in live-action) Giselle (still in her wedding dress) eventually meets well-to-do divorce lawyer and single dad Robert, who takes her in for the night.

Robert and Giselle start to fall for each other, but things get complicated when Queen Narissa follows Giselle to Manhattan, to be sure she's seen the last of her would-be daughter-in-law. Narissa tracks Giselle down to a ball, where, disguised as a toothless old hag, she finally persuades her to eat a bite of poisoned apple.

Giselle collapses, and only the kiss of true love (delivered by Robert) saves her life. Unfortunately, Narissa doesn't take this set-back well, turning herself into a huge dragon and grabbing hold of Robert before thundering out onto the roof of the skyscraper where the ball's taking place. Giselle follows, and forces Narissa to let go of Robert. Still in her dragon persona, Narissa falls from the roof and dissolves into glitter on the pavement below. True love triumphs.

It was an entertaining film, full of witty touches - though I did feel like an imposter being there without any young children. Later, I recount the plot to Va-vay.

"So you see, Va-vay, it really started with his mother not wanting them to get married because then she wouldn't be queen any more."

"Really."

"But then the conflict is resolved when the dragon falls from the skyscraper."

"I thought one of the design features of dragons was they could fly," he replies. "This must have been a freak, flightless dragon."

Some people will insist on being so literal.

Posted 12 January 2008 23:28 | Number of comments: 16 | Comments

Friends Out and about

Fill your boots at Fidra Books

A quick reminder that Edinburgh's new, independent children's bookshop opens its doors for the first time this Saturday (10 November). You can find Fidra Books at 219 Bruntsfield Place, Edinburgh, just along the road from Holy Corner. Vanessa Robertson, the firm's director, is a staunch ally of this site and fellow blogger who deserves every success with the new shop. I'm chuffed to bits for her and telling everybody I know about the launch. Please go along and support the shop by buying some of her books. She's stocking more than a thousand titles, including the fifteen Fidra has published. Aside from Vanessa being a personal friend (I think she'd agree with that) we need shops like this to stop our high streets melting into a parade of identikit chains.

More personally, I can hardly wait until Beanie's old enough to enjoy browsing in Vanessa's shop. Some of my happiest childhood memories are visiting bookshops with my mother, and I want to do the same thing for my daughter. I come from a fairly modest background (despite what certain readers of the Edinburgh Evening News think) but my mother believed books were the best investment you could make and used to produce her James Thin account card for all sorts of children's books like Ballet Shoes, Tom's Midnight Garden and The Secret Garden. They opened the door into a new and enchanted world I never wanted to leave.

As Vanessa's written on her blog, many people have an emotional attachment to book shops possibly because they remember buying books there that have shaped their lives, ideas, aspirations, dreams, perceptions and imaginations. Buying on-line is never going to be the same for a small child as wandering around in a cornucopia of real books. Go on, if you get the chance, pay a trip to the new shop. Just don't expect to find any Katy Price pony books, though. Vanessa won't be stocking any. As she told The Scotsman, "We won't stock rubbish." Quite right too.

Posted 07 November 2007 21:59 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Books Edinburgh Friends Out and about

Does age matter?

Does age matter when it comes to making friends with other mums?

Does it make any difference if you're the oldest or youngest mum in the post-natal group?

Do people forget about age differences because they've got the - arguably stronger - common bond of looking after their new babies?

I'd count myself friends with other mums of various different ages - probably with a few more of them closer to my age.

I'd be interested to know about readers' experiences of whether age played a part in their post-natal support network.

As you might have guessed, I'm working on a section of Fashionably Late that requires some field research into what it's like for mums setting up social networks after they've had a baby. Any comments much appreciated and I would of course change people's names before putting anything into the book. As I've said before, two signed copies go to people whose comments are included.

Posted 30 October 2007 18:10 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Fashionably Late - the book Friends Older mother

First year of motherhood tests us all

For most new mothers the year after having their first baby turns out to be the loneliest in their lives, according to a survey from Tesco and Mother and Baby magazine. Cut off from families, friends and work colleagues, almost half of new mums feel 'lonely and isolated'. Nine out of ten miss the social life they enjoyed before the baby arrived and around two-thirds 'feel cut off from normal life'. Only around a quarter lived in the same town as their parents.

The Mail quotes Elena Dalrymple, editor of Mother and Baby, saying: "Leaving work and having a baby is a huge physical and emotional adjustment for women. Friends without babies drift off, grandparents live miles away, neighbours are barely on nodding terms, other mums you bump into at the shops aren't your type and the social life you once knew has ground to a halt."

My experience was quite the opposite: I found myself meeting all sorts of new people when Beanie arrived and have been extremely fortunate in making friends with other mums from our ante-natal class and other groups. It's not over-stating things to say they've been a life-line in some difficult times.

Having a child also meant I got to know some of our neighbours. We used to have a little cafe at the end of our street and before it closed would gather there for coffee and a chat, without having to make any arrangement beforehand. We'd just wander in and chat to whoever was there. Having a child has helped me feel part of a community. It's been great.

On the downside, I've inevitably met people with whom I had little in common except having a child at the same time - but that's hardly surprising. Some of the mums-and-babies events have had their excruciating side.

Sample conversation:

"Which school are you thinking of for Beanie?" Beanie being two or three months old at the time of questioning. Mind you, I am also guilty of this line of questioning. Schooling is an Edinburgh obsession. Perhaps also elsewhere?

"My little Fionulla's been sleeping through the night since she was ten weeks. We have to wake her in the morning." GRRRRRrrrrrrr.....

"Surely you feed her 100% organic! Don't you know what goes into pesticides?"

"Ranulph's such an active little boy. Girls are so much more passive, aren't they?" On hearing this, a little girl called Arabella (nine months) clouted poor Ranulph (her junior, at six months, and not so very active after all) round the ear. Sins of the parents and all that...

"Was that a shop-bought cake I spotted?"

These days I don't see as much of Ranulph and his doting mum. But many of us mums who had babies around the same time still enjoy meeting up. Perhaps if I hadn't seen this survey published next to a story about how successful, beautiful women can't find boyfriends, (not something I've ever noticed) it wouldn't have made me think of a comment by Julie Burchill that some newspapers can't bear the idea that there might be a woman somewhere in the world who is - terrible thought! - enjoying herself.

Posted 23 October 2007 13:25 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Childcare Domestic chaos Edinburgh Friends Out and about

Silver spoon

After yesterday inflicting on you the picture of an Indian lady breastfeeding a monkey, which all of us agreed was pretty vile, I've got something much cuter to show you today. This is a picture of a fantastic piece of ergonomic baby kit that one of Va-vay's work colleagues, a lady who lives in Egypt, kindly gave us. I'd never seen one of them before, I'm not even sure they're available in this country. The beauty of the shape is it allows babies to hold their cutlery more like an adult would hold a knife, as parents will tell you babies tend to do anyway. So Beanie can wrap a tiny fist around the stem, then still heap up her petit filou, fish pie or whatever, and convey it thence to her tummy, a process which is much harder for her with a conventional rubber toddler spoon. We're not sure yet if Beanie's right or left-handed. Probably right-handed. Hoping so, anyway, as this lovely spoon will work only for right-handed toddlers. But don't worry, Beanie. No pressure.

Posted 04 September 2007 10:50 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Friends Kit

Count-down

The wedding in Ireland takes place just over two weeks away. Two weeks in which I must primp, pluck and preen away two years of self-neglect. Two weeks in which to pray that the summer's long diet to rid myself of post-pregnancy weight has worked well enough for me to fit into a fashionable outfit. An outfit sans even the merest hint of smocks, peasantry or burgeoning bellies. An outfit I can wear with no-one, but no-one, not even the kindliest and most well-meaning, pointedly asking me about due dates or plans to have more children.

Two weeks in which I must:

1. Brave the Lewis' hat department to choose something called a 'fascinator' for my hair. Preserve it from Beanie's merciless ministrations. Wonder which Potter book it appeared in. Convince self I do not look ridiculous in it.

2. Repair to the local Floatarium for revitalising hour in a water tank. Resist temptation to draw unflattering parallels between self and Bertie's mum, the fictional Irene from Alexander McCall Smith's Scotland Street. A lady who also frequents the Floatarium - in her case, with controversial results.

3. Brush up on non-baby-related small talk. Perhaps find out if a World Cup beckons later this year. So that when people talk about 'the match' I'll know which one.

4. Psyche self up to be in roomful of mostly new people. On my own, without Va-vay (who's babysitting).

5. Remove, by scrubbing if necessary, any rejected fish pie or other gloop engrained on my person, hair or clothes.

6. Resist temptation to tell everyone I meet at the wedding that they should have a blog.

7. Unearth the nice underwear I last wore on honeymoon, before I got pregnant and outlawed underwireds to the back of the chest of drawers. As a friend said: "They did their job well, those bras." Probably repress dismay that I'll never again be a 36C. Try to be happy that at least Va-vay is pleased by my increased chest size.

8. Get hair do. Rejoice in freedom to have highlights done - as not pregnant.

9. Find wedding present

10. Remember to apply expensive face creams Va-vay brought back as gift from his weekend away. Dismiss negative thoughts that he might be trying to tell me something with this choice of present.

11. Train myself not to coo, trill, babble or sing at adult wedding guests.

12. Savour thought of returning from travels with handbag mysteriously devoid of crumbled infant rice cakes.

13. Look forward to being on plane where it will not be my job to soothe, feed or hush my poor, traumatised daughter as her ear drums get sore, and she wails in despair that she doesn't understand where she is or what's happening to her.

14. Try to convince myself I won't miss her like mad, that I won't be thinking of her every minute I'm away from her.

Can it be done? I'll let you all know. The last one, number fourteen, will be the hardest by a long chalk. Wish me luck.

Posted 28 August 2007 21:22 | Number of comments: 22 | Comments

Friends Miscarriage Older mother Out and about Pregnancy

The way to a girl's heart

The Bean remains in the smash-and-grab phase of her infancy, an uncompromising stage in which she displays no inhibitions whatsoever about seizing other people's belongings, but hangs onto her own with grim determination. Since I'd like her to grow up with at least a few friends, we're working on those social skills, and so while browsing in the signing tent at the Edinburgh International Book Festival yesterday (oh, okay, I admit it, hanging around to sneak glances at Richard Dawkins who was there signing copies of his latest book The God Delusion), I found this lovely book by Julia Donaldson, author of The Gruffalo, called Sharing a Shell.

I've bought Sharing a Shell in the hope it will help teach Beanie about sharing and friendship, since the book is a gentle parable (of sorts) about how we relate to other people, but now I'm wondering if we can learn that sort of thing from a book, whether in fact these are life lessons we have to figure out for ourselves. But I'm such a believer in books' abilities to have transformational effects on our lives I couldn't resist purchasing a copy.

Watching our sixteen-month-old children playing last week in a walled garden at an Edinburgh art gallery, and laughing kindly at my attempts to rein in Beanie's exuberant behaviour, a friend commented to me that children really learn mostly by example, while telling them what to do achieves little. When I look back at my own childhood, that's certainly true, and I think (though others may disagree) that children are acutely sensitive to parental hypocrisy (saying one thing, doing another). Oh dear, in that case I'd better behave myself then and set a good example to my daughter of sharing and friendship.

Still, I don't think Sharing a Shell will prove a bad purchase, if only because, as the cover rightly publicises, it has "Glitter on every page". Now only rarely, very rarely, can that be a bad thing, and Beanie absolutely loves it. Indeed she was so enthralled with her new acquisition yesterday afternoon that she spent about ten uninterrupted minutes fingering the glitter with rapt attention, pausing only to scream at me in indignation when the book fell out of her buggy.

Posted 20 August 2007 11:18 | Number of comments: 15 | Comments

Daughters Etiquette Friends Books Edinburgh Festival Out and about

Blog Fest

Guineapigmum, Erica from Littlemummy and I all met for a successful coffee and chat yesterday at one of my favourite childhood haunts, Victor Hugo's delicatessen, after Guineapigmum noticed a jokey comment here about setting up a Blog Fest to run alongside the several other festivals in Edinburgh in August and suggested we meet up.

Erica and I already know each other; we have children almost the same age, and have enjoyed meeting up a couple of times in the Botanic Gardens to chat about blogging and the delights (or challenges) of looking after our toddlers. Guineapigmum and I have swapped comments on each others' sites, but yesterday was the first time we met in person, and I'm glad to say we all had a good time chatting about the important things in life - like being mums, our children and blogging - before taking the younger children over to the swing park together.

It was great to meet up in person, encourage each other, swap tips and find out how we all make time to write postings while working and looking after families (I'm writing this as Beanie has her mid-morning nap, and the sound of her coughing means I'll have to end soon). Many thanks to Guineapigmum for taking the initiative to suggest it.

Yesterday made us all think it'd be great to get more of us bloggers together more frequently. Who knows? Perhaps in time we'll have a proper blog fest - and get to meet in person lots of lovely fellow bloggers from around the country! Keep an eye out for details of future get-togethers.

Posted 10 August 2007 10:57 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Edinburgh Festival Blogging Friends

Wedding bells

A letter arrives this morning addressed in calligraphic swirls of black ink. Someone has inked each letter with strokes, curlicues and loops that make The Bean's beginner alphabet letters on her wooden blocks stark and almost impoverished in comparison.

Writing like that promises only good things. And these flourishes, swoops and upstrokes do not disappoint. Inside is an invitation to the wedding in Ireland of an old friend and her long-term boyfriend. They got engaged in India at Christmas.

We became friends as flatmates back in London. Our flatsharing wasn't a huge success: when we protested at a proposed 20% rent rise, our landlord responded with an eviction notice. But our friendship survived this set-back and continued. Even after we both became home-owners ourselves and later moved away from London.

She flew back from New York for the weekend to be at our wedding, so a trip across the Irish Sea doesn't seem much to ask in comparison. Suffice to say, we're very excited and looking forwards to a jaunt to Waterford in September.

Posted 19 July 2007 23:30 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Fun Out and about Friends

Second of the first birthdays

After the buzzer went at last, ending that pre-party hiatus of waiting, our visitors began arriving. First, though, they had to ascend the escalier en colimaçon, or spiral staircase, so typical of New Town "stairs", as they call blocks of flats up here, that wends its way up two floors to the eyrie of our flat.

In their arms were bottles (for once containing wine, as well as milk) and babies togged up in party kit for this joint birthday party. Light poured in from the domed cupola up above the stair; a trio of balloons sellotaped to the front door welcomed them.

Just over a year ago we were couples who barely knew each other save to sit awkwardly at NCT ante-natal classes and engage in abstract pursuits such as debating the most appropriate modern childcare techniques. Since then, things have become a trifle less academic as we've battled with sleepless nights and crying babies. We've moved from coupledom to family life and also, somewhere along the way, become friends.

K had already presided with magisterial good humour over an earlier celebration, attended mostly by family, on her proper birthday. She was equally enchanted at this knees-up with her friends. Although the two events shared a common purpose, they were very different to each other. Celebrating with other families, whose trajectory has been so similar to ours, somehow served to reinforce what we've all done and become in the past 12 months, as if we mirrored and bolstered each other.

Posted 23 April 2007 13:32 | Number of comments: 1 | Comments

Daughters Edinburgh Friends Home Husband