Mug Shot

I was packed off to University with a box of crockery we picked up at Argos, it soon transpired that my little matching set was identical to those of half my flat. We never knew whose mugs/plates/bowls were whose and in a student kitchen with dubious standards of hygiene it was a touch hit and miss when making a cup of tea! I think this is what kicked off my love of distinctive, pretty mugs - nobody could pinch my super clean, shiny ones now that they were so different from everyone else's. I never found carefully grown mould on top of congealed cuppa-soup again. Well, almost never. 

Mugs are a personal thing; witty-banter talking point mugs, plain jane white stoneware mugs, retro charity shop offerings, mugs with cats, mugs with dogs, the gaudy patterned sort, delicate bone china granny-mugs. We all have a preference, and when you think about it your favourite mug (as long as it stays in one piece, there is always an inevitable dropping incident) is a constant companion; it weathers cold mornings, flu season, tea and sympathy, bad days and busy days as stoically as the occasional 'just because' breakfast in bed. If mugs could talk . . . . Think of all the conversations they have overheard, snippets of life they have witnessed and gossip they've gleaned from being central to cosy catchups with visiting friends and family. The likelihood is they've seen you first thing in the morning minus the miracle of a shower, a hairbrush and a coat of mascara too. 

The boy frequently grumbles about our jam-packed mug cupboard - but he made a few additions of his own when we pooled our resources seven years back, in fact he owns a witty-banter talking point mug with a fart-based quote that I'm loath to make tea in for anyone besides him and my Dad. I took out my entire mug stock last week, determined to prune half a dozen or so to take to the charity shop and could  have sworn I heard the cupboard creak in weary relief. There was much shuffling and muttering, a hot spa dip for them all and then half an hour chilling out on the draining board before I returned them all to their rightful home. They know too much!     

Georgina

We have snow again, and plenty of it - the strong winds have been creating odd little drifts and although it is late March I'm transported back to December somehow. I had a wonderful childminder growing up - she was, and is - truly one of a kind. An Irish woman from county Cork with a heart the size of the moon and occasionally a very matter of fact turn of phrase. At Georgina's we would spend days like today building indoor forts of blankets and sofa cushions, hanging out by the log burner munching toast and playing Contraband, or bundling up in ski jackets to brave the cold and bounce on the snowy trampoline in the garden. There were endless snowball fights and soggy walks home from school which meant squeaky shoes and wet socks in the porch then a race for the comfiest chair by the log burner. The kitchen was a place of wonder and there was always something bubbling away on top of the stove or baking inside it; we made biscuits and bread, dropped scones and fairy cakes, tarts and even doughnuts. Christmas was a riot of badly topped mince pies, cheese straws and cards sporting lollystick frames around cut-outs from the previous year's festive brochures. Pancake day equalled barely contained pandemonium in which we'd all queue up eager to help stir the mixture and flip our own pancakes before Georgina slid them deftly onto our plates, it inevitably lead to some batter based disasters, I vividly remember only narrowly avoiding wearing Jonathan's pancake when he got a little overenthusiastic with the flipping action. 

Random recollections but I often think of Georgina on snowy days!

Go well, Belle

Belle was the most adorable puppy I had ever laid eyes on; her ears were too large to be allowed, she had a permanently quizzical expression and the pads on her little paws matched her bright pink tongue. It was love at first sight. She was a long haired Weimaraner, a present from my Dad to my Mum for her 40th birthday, and she grew up quickly into a gangly, wiggly, overenthusiastic member of the family. To say she had a presence is an understatement - tripping hazard would be more accurate - Belle was everywhere; underfoot in the kitchen, sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs, nudging at knees for a fuss while making short work of anything on the coffee table with her very waggy tail. If you gave her half a chance she'd be on your lap, failing that she'd offer you her paw until she had your attention. I missed her so much when I left home to go to University but each time I was back for the weekend I'd wake in the middle of the night to hear her scratching at my door to be let into my bedroom, once inside she'd shoot me a look as though to say 'What took you so long?' and then lay down to snooze. Like Peter Pan she never really grew up, she kept her puppyish nature right up to being 11 or so and never grew into her ears either.

Yesterday afternoon, after almost 12 years as part of the Cope clan, Belle was put to sleep - it was her time to go - old age caught up with her and there was a rapid decline in her health since Christmas. Pets can't live forever and it is always so sad to say goodbye but it is worth the heartache now to have had the years that came before. 

Of Late

Can you reminisce fondly about a place even before you leave it? This past couple of weeks I've been cataloguing sights and sounds with near-obsessive detail, building a cache of snippets to call upon down the line once this little old house and I part company. It's a creaky sort of place; stoic, patient beams and uneven floors, pockets of bare brick wall and huge sash windows with many a gap in the frames for a determined gust to whistle through. It will be a bittersweet goodbye. A sad farewell to the view of rooftops and trees from my little desk, the sloping ceilings, and visits from the glossy black hobo cat who frequents our courtyard. I won't miss the bad-green bathroom suite or the chipboard kitchen units though, even with my prematurely rose-tinted spectacles sat firmly on the bridge of my nose. The scores of things I love about this small town on the edge of the Peaks, and this house, have all added up to make it feel like home - I have been so happy here.

My in-between moments have been either a flurry of list making - moving is a brilliant excuse to indulge my list habit - or quiet, reflective little things full of simple pleasures. Finding a stunning edition of Keats' Realms of Gold for fifty pence (really!) made it a very good Friday, even if the daffodils I picked up for a pound resolutely refuse to bloom - save one. You cannot beat a bag of snowies for a Saturday treat but during the week I spoilt myself with an epic letter-writing session, then sat back to paw through my collection of old postcards and appreciate their penmanship all over again. The last photo speaks to what triggered our move. T closed the door on being unhappy and unfulfilled in his work, back he goes to freelancing and (hopefully) more room to make dreams a reality - that is something I am more than happy to up sticks for.

That & the Other

My oldest friend Ali came to stay this week so it has been a very good one; lengthy chats, much giggling, plenty of walking, charity shopping and antique fondling in abundance. All with the necessary stops for tea and cake, of course. We watched Jane Eyre and Amélie back to back, met Sara for afternoon tea (I had so much fun introducing two of my favourite people), spent far too long in Paperchase, discovered the creepiest childrens book (see last pic: Play With Us? Or what!?) and yet somehow we didn't get around to opening the bubbly. I'll save it for the next visit. 

I love appreciating this little town through new eyes, I'll be very sad to leave it!

Cream Tea & Twinings

I'm a serial mis-matcher of vintage china, an excuse to break out a few of my favourite patterns or latest additions to my ever growing china family (the boy despairs) is always welcome. My teenage weekends and school holidays were spent serving endless cream teas, hand cut sandwiches and slices of cake in a lakeside tearoom. I've whipped countless bowls of double cream, filled thousands of teapots and could probably pave a tennis court with all the scones I've sliced, so it feels decadent to serve myself now and then; a miniature tea party for two was the order of the day. 

I have something of an obsession with floral infused black teas and have tried so many over the past couple of years, they aren't to everyones taste but are definitely worth sampling. I was offered the chance to review a couple of teas from Twinings recently, Lavender Earl Grey was top of my wish list! The scent was divine even before I tore open the box, so the aroma while it steeped was heavenly - I experimented a little and found that three minutes brewing was just right for me. I'm an oddity when it comes to how I take my tea - it depends more than anything on my mood - so I've sipped this black, black with sugar, with a teaspoon of milk, with milk and sugar. Earl Grey in itself I find refreshing, add the lavender and it has a new dimension; the zesty bergamot is still discernible but the lavender lifts it somehow into something a touch more mellow. This has been my mid afternoon staple lately and an instant favourite, perfect to serve as part of an afternoon tea.

My second tea choice was Detox tea from the Benefit range as I'm always on the watch for caffeine free teas to enjoy - it can be a very hit and miss affair finding one that isn't all mouth and no trousers! So many of them smell fantastic but taste disappointing. Detox is a blend of lemon peel, milk thistle and lemon myrtle. This smells like high summer to me - freshly cut grass to begin with, the lemon then becomes more pronounced the longer the tea steeps and is more of a hug-your-mug than high tea sort of brew. I really did not enjoy the first cup, I had flounced off to answer the door for a parcel, left the bag in a little too long and found it was slightly bitter, I was more watchful the second time around! The lemon flavour is strong and citrus and I found it left a pleasant warmth in my throat as well as my mouth though underneath the zest is something slightly medicinal that definitely wasn't an immediate hit with my tastebuds. This blend was a grower for me, I find it very refreshing so great for first thing in the morning but not something I'd reach for purely on a taste basis.