I definitely wouldn't have gone that far into the wardrobe, for starters. There's nothing Lucy likes so much as the feel of fur, we are told. So she climbs in the wardrobe and gets in among the fur coats, pushing her way further in so she can feel the furry goodness all around her. I, on the other hand, am not so passionate about fur. I might have stuck my hand or arm in for a second or two, then left. I certainly would not have physically climbed into the wardrobe.
I'm not that keen on Turkish Delight. Don't get me wrong. Turkish Delight is fine and nice in its own way but I definitely wouldn't have gone to the extremes that Edmund did to get some more.
I don't say "Blast and botheration" enough. Digory, in The Magician's Nephew says this line fairly near the start of the adventure, at a point where I would have said something like, "This sucks," which I don't think is child-friendly reading.
Even if I had gotten all the way into Narnia, I probably would have explained it away by saying I must have found my way outside in a freak snowstorm and never gone back.
Instead of going off to find Aslan and make friends, I probably would have concluded that lions are not the safest creatures to have as friends and stayed home, leaving everyone else to the adventures.
I don't eat enough large spreads of bread, butter, freshly caught fish, currant buns and tea, made for me by woodland creatures. I much prefer something beautiful and dainty and, so far as I know, no-one in Narnia has been awarded a Michelin star yet. You probably can't even get truffles.
Susan would annoy me too much. She's always moaning.
Once inside the wardrobe and having found Narnia, I would have had to nip back to this world to get a book to read and probably would never have got back in again.
If I'd have found Aslan and he'd said I had to fight a battle against the baddies, I probably would have insisted he got the army in to do it and pottered off to the castle to wait for a text message to say they'd won.
When crowned, I would have requested that I be called Laura The Abominable Snow-woman, just for fun, which would have annoyed serious Peter and boring Susan, I think.
There aren't enough mentions of cups of tea in Narnia.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Friday, 28 December 2012
The time I cycled to the Cotswolds
A few years ago, my family and I were having a long weekend away in a cottage in the Cotswolds and I was quite recently into cycling so decided to cycle there from London. The journey was about 150 miles and I had two days to do it. I had booked into a youth hostel two thirds of the way along and was very excited. An entire day spent on my bike. It promised to be great fun.
I set out first thing in the morning and of course forgot the snacks I had put aside the night before. So at my first snack stop, an hour or two in, I found a few sweets from a pack of Starburst, an apple and some Softmints. I had a Starburst and a Softmint and wondered if I might die of starvation on this journey.
It was November and the weather was starting to get colder, which was fine by me actually, as I warm up very quickly when cycling, so find it uncomfortable to cycle in summer and nicer in winter. One thing that wasn't great about cycling in winter, though, was the wind. It made things unnecessarily difficult. This day, it was windy most of the time. Not enough to slow me down but enough to irritate. It was in my face and it was constant.
I took a total of three breaks that day, each shorter than the last as I had less and less left to eat. I demolished the sweets and ate the single apple, savoring every juicy bite.
As I got closer to the town where I was stopping overnight, I saw on my map that I would need to go a few miles down the road I was on then come back the same distance, around the edge of a field, like following two sides of a triangle.
"So," thought I, "I will cut down the work here and just cross this field. It will be much quicker."
By this time, 11 hours after first starting out, I was getting quite tired. My bum hurt, my legs ached, my arms and hands were fed up of being outstretched and longed to relax. Mentally, I was getting a bit cabin-fever-y on my bike, constantly checking my mileage, the time, my speed etc.
My quick across-country shortcut, therefore, seemed perfect. I was only a few miles away and just wanted to get there, desperately. It was really dark by this point so I used my bike light and found a path across the field. It was quite a muddy path, enclosed by two rows of hedges. As I bumped along, I was suddenly pitched forward into a little ditch and thrown off the bike. Determined, I got up and started cycling again. Thirty seconds of muddy cycling later, I was thrown off again. I screamed into the wind which, by now, had become loud and fierce. I mounted the bike again, ready for a fight. This time, I didn't fall into a ditch. Instead, the two rows of hedges ended and I was suddenly out on open field. No longer sheltered, the force of the wind hitting me knocked me off my bike again.
"FUCKING WIND!" I screamed, like a madwoman. "FUCK OFF!"
If anyone had been out walking their dog that evening, they must have thought there was a lunatic walking around.
I started to worry that I would be eternally lost in these fields. They went on far longer than I had expected and I couldn't see any sign of the road on the other side. It was dark and windy and I was lost and alone, wandering the moors like Cathy looking for Heathcliffe.
Eventually, bumping my way across the fields, I saw a glint of a car light and headed straight for it, my heart pounding. As I emerged from the fields and onto the road, I saw a hill to my right and headed straight down it. According to my map, my youth hostel was down a road off this main one and I would be there in just a few minutes.
Off I went, down the hill, gliding and enjoying not having to cycle. I got to the bottom, looked around and realised I couldn't see the road I was looking for. I knocked on the door of a nearby house to ask for directions and yes, you guessed it, it was back at the top of the hill, directly opposite, in fact, the path I had come out of the fields on.
So up the hill I went, found the road and, ten seconds along the way, was my home for the evening. I dismounted, at long last, locked the bike up and entered the reception area. By this point, I was ravenous, dirty, exhausted and aching. I was greeted with the news that dinner had stopped 15 minutes ago and no, there was nowhere else to get food unless I wanted to go down that hill again. After some grovelling and begging, they agreed to throw something together for me and I scurried off to change out of my cycling gear.
And that's when I discovered the windburn. It was everywhere, my shins were especially bad as it meant I couldn't sleep unless I had them out of the blankets which, in winter, isn't the nicest thing. As I ate, I found I had windburn on the roof of my mouth and couldn't quite swallow properly because of it. It was on my knuckles and face and tingled like crazy when touched.
So after my thrown-together dinner of tuna, pasta and vegetables, I sat reading a book, making sure none of my windburn was touching anything. It was very awkward!
The next day, apart from adding 8 miles on by cycling in the wrong direction for a bit, I had a relatively newsless journey, arriving at the cottage in the afternoon.
It was a good thing to have done but, honestly, I'll think twice before I do it again...!
I set out first thing in the morning and of course forgot the snacks I had put aside the night before. So at my first snack stop, an hour or two in, I found a few sweets from a pack of Starburst, an apple and some Softmints. I had a Starburst and a Softmint and wondered if I might die of starvation on this journey.
It was November and the weather was starting to get colder, which was fine by me actually, as I warm up very quickly when cycling, so find it uncomfortable to cycle in summer and nicer in winter. One thing that wasn't great about cycling in winter, though, was the wind. It made things unnecessarily difficult. This day, it was windy most of the time. Not enough to slow me down but enough to irritate. It was in my face and it was constant.
I took a total of three breaks that day, each shorter than the last as I had less and less left to eat. I demolished the sweets and ate the single apple, savoring every juicy bite.
As I got closer to the town where I was stopping overnight, I saw on my map that I would need to go a few miles down the road I was on then come back the same distance, around the edge of a field, like following two sides of a triangle.
"So," thought I, "I will cut down the work here and just cross this field. It will be much quicker."
By this time, 11 hours after first starting out, I was getting quite tired. My bum hurt, my legs ached, my arms and hands were fed up of being outstretched and longed to relax. Mentally, I was getting a bit cabin-fever-y on my bike, constantly checking my mileage, the time, my speed etc.
My quick across-country shortcut, therefore, seemed perfect. I was only a few miles away and just wanted to get there, desperately. It was really dark by this point so I used my bike light and found a path across the field. It was quite a muddy path, enclosed by two rows of hedges. As I bumped along, I was suddenly pitched forward into a little ditch and thrown off the bike. Determined, I got up and started cycling again. Thirty seconds of muddy cycling later, I was thrown off again. I screamed into the wind which, by now, had become loud and fierce. I mounted the bike again, ready for a fight. This time, I didn't fall into a ditch. Instead, the two rows of hedges ended and I was suddenly out on open field. No longer sheltered, the force of the wind hitting me knocked me off my bike again.
"FUCKING WIND!" I screamed, like a madwoman. "FUCK OFF!"
If anyone had been out walking their dog that evening, they must have thought there was a lunatic walking around.
I started to worry that I would be eternally lost in these fields. They went on far longer than I had expected and I couldn't see any sign of the road on the other side. It was dark and windy and I was lost and alone, wandering the moors like Cathy looking for Heathcliffe.
Eventually, bumping my way across the fields, I saw a glint of a car light and headed straight for it, my heart pounding. As I emerged from the fields and onto the road, I saw a hill to my right and headed straight down it. According to my map, my youth hostel was down a road off this main one and I would be there in just a few minutes.
Off I went, down the hill, gliding and enjoying not having to cycle. I got to the bottom, looked around and realised I couldn't see the road I was looking for. I knocked on the door of a nearby house to ask for directions and yes, you guessed it, it was back at the top of the hill, directly opposite, in fact, the path I had come out of the fields on.
So up the hill I went, found the road and, ten seconds along the way, was my home for the evening. I dismounted, at long last, locked the bike up and entered the reception area. By this point, I was ravenous, dirty, exhausted and aching. I was greeted with the news that dinner had stopped 15 minutes ago and no, there was nowhere else to get food unless I wanted to go down that hill again. After some grovelling and begging, they agreed to throw something together for me and I scurried off to change out of my cycling gear.
And that's when I discovered the windburn. It was everywhere, my shins were especially bad as it meant I couldn't sleep unless I had them out of the blankets which, in winter, isn't the nicest thing. As I ate, I found I had windburn on the roof of my mouth and couldn't quite swallow properly because of it. It was on my knuckles and face and tingled like crazy when touched.
So after my thrown-together dinner of tuna, pasta and vegetables, I sat reading a book, making sure none of my windburn was touching anything. It was very awkward!
The next day, apart from adding 8 miles on by cycling in the wrong direction for a bit, I had a relatively newsless journey, arriving at the cottage in the afternoon.
It was a good thing to have done but, honestly, I'll think twice before I do it again...!
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Things I love
Narnia
Branston Pickle
Jumpers with animals on them
Swimming in the sea
Mountain trekking in foreign lands
Iced peach tea
Cooking for friends
Anything by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Making a good coffee
Peppermint tea
The nice feeling after you've cleaned the house
Vanilla yoghurt
Walking in London
A long journey on a train or a bus
Finishing a book and deciding which one to read next
Listening to an audiobook while walking to the swimming pool
Yoga
Homeland
The first day of snow
A pile of freshly washed clothes
Anything containing truffle, especially truffle butter
Panettone
Family Guy
Branston Pickle
Jumpers with animals on them
Swimming in the sea
Mountain trekking in foreign lands
Iced peach tea
Cooking for friends
Anything by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Making a good coffee
Peppermint tea
The nice feeling after you've cleaned the house
Vanilla yoghurt
Walking in London
A long journey on a train or a bus
Finishing a book and deciding which one to read next
Listening to an audiobook while walking to the swimming pool
Yoga
Homeland
The first day of snow
A pile of freshly washed clothes
Anything containing truffle, especially truffle butter
Panettone
Family Guy
Wednesday, 26 December 2012
Possible Downton Abbey spinoff shows
Downton Crabby
In which all the grumpiest characters get together and moan about the English weather and the state of the country and how it's 'going to the dogs.'
Downton Flabby
In which everyone admits that they have let themselves go a bit and they pair up to compete in a kind of Biggest Loser competition, with Cousin Violet being the Davina McCall type presenter. Mr Bates and Anna would be the personal trainers. My money would be on Mrs Pattmore to win.
Downton Snobby
In which Mary critiques members of the plebian masses and explains why she doesn't like them. Kind of like a What Not To Wear type programme.
Downton Tabby
In which all the characters are played by cats instead of humans.
Downton Shabby
In which a swarm of moths attack the wardrobes at Downton Abbey and lay their eggs inside the fancy dresses. Cousin Violet has to patch up her dresses with old curtains to avoid showing her bum cheek at dinner.
Downton Cabby
In which they fall on hard times so pool together to buy a second hand taxi and each do shifts waiting on the rank down at the train station.
Downton Abe
In which everyone decides to convert to Judaism as they've heard the food is great and they're ravenous after their stint on Downton Flabby.
Downton Jabby
In which they all go down to the hospital to get their flu jabs done.
Downton Nappy
In which all the characters are played by babies who talk gibberish, snatch the toys from each and cry for their mums. Biting is their main form of communication.
In which all the grumpiest characters get together and moan about the English weather and the state of the country and how it's 'going to the dogs.'
Downton Flabby
In which everyone admits that they have let themselves go a bit and they pair up to compete in a kind of Biggest Loser competition, with Cousin Violet being the Davina McCall type presenter. Mr Bates and Anna would be the personal trainers. My money would be on Mrs Pattmore to win.
Downton Snobby
In which Mary critiques members of the plebian masses and explains why she doesn't like them. Kind of like a What Not To Wear type programme.
Downton Tabby
In which all the characters are played by cats instead of humans.
Downton Shabby
In which a swarm of moths attack the wardrobes at Downton Abbey and lay their eggs inside the fancy dresses. Cousin Violet has to patch up her dresses with old curtains to avoid showing her bum cheek at dinner.
Downton Cabby
In which they fall on hard times so pool together to buy a second hand taxi and each do shifts waiting on the rank down at the train station.
Downton Abe
In which everyone decides to convert to Judaism as they've heard the food is great and they're ravenous after their stint on Downton Flabby.
Downton Jabby
In which they all go down to the hospital to get their flu jabs done.
Downton Nappy
In which all the characters are played by babies who talk gibberish, snatch the toys from each and cry for their mums. Biting is their main form of communication.
Monday, 24 December 2012
Christmas Eve
I have just eaten my last advent calendar chocolate. I am about to go to work for the last time before having a little Christmas break. I am going to spend ten minutes before work reading Narnia. I am just up to the bit where Digory and Polly go exploring in other worlds and find Charn, and Digory rings the bell in the long room, like an idiot. I always get really irritated when he does that. I am looking at the pile of presents under the mini Christmas tree...
....and I am thinking about how lovely tomorrow promises to be. In a minute, I will eat some breakfast and try to decide what to wear with my fabulous Christmas jumper.
In the meantime, here are some pictures from last Christmas to get us feeling all festive.
Presents!
Christmas dinner - an amazing three bird roast
Yaya's little sister, ignoring her presents and playing excitedly with some cardboard.
Christmas pasta!
Mince pies
Last year's Christmas tree
HAVE A LOVELY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
....and I am thinking about how lovely tomorrow promises to be. In a minute, I will eat some breakfast and try to decide what to wear with my fabulous Christmas jumper.
In the meantime, here are some pictures from last Christmas to get us feeling all festive.
Presents!
Christmas dinner - an amazing three bird roast
Yaya's little sister, ignoring her presents and playing excitedly with some cardboard.
Christmas pasta!
Mince pies
Last year's Christmas tree
HAVE A LOVELY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Narnia and I
Our relationship goes way back. Anyone who knows me well, knows about my Narnia-love.
I had probably read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe at some point as a child but then my dad got me the box set in my teens and I read all seven chronicles. It took over my existence for a while. I rejoiced when they defeated the White Witch, when Caspian beat his uncle and reigned over Narnia, when Jill and Eustace broke Prince Rilian free from his spell and when Peter triumphed in the last battle. I despaired when Aslan was killed on the ancient table, when Nikabrik tried to overthrow Caspian and when Edmund and Lucy were told they had to leave Narnia. And I wept for the second half of the last book because I knew the end was nigh.
When in the Narnia zone, it becomes a very real place to me. It is the pleasant background to my normal day. Things are just generally nicer and more storybook, even when I'm just at work.
Right before going on our gap years, my friend Joe and I had walked from his house into Reading, which had taken about four hours. We had talked about Narnia a lot. It was one of those lovely days, early in our friendship when everything we said or did became a nice memory, stored up to take away with me. He left for his gap year before me so I sent him all seven books in the post to China and, miraculously, nothing happened to them along the way. I took a copy of the books with me to Africa and we started to read them on the 16th December, countries and oceans apart, to prepare for Christmas.
In fact, one day, whilst discussing Narnia with a bit of alcohol in our systems, two friends and I jumped into the rather big wardrobe we had in our room in Namibia, and searched around in the back for some snow or trees. We found neither.
Every year since then, I've started reading them on the 16th so I'm usually on book 4 or 5 by Christmas Day, and I keep reading till I finish them.
When my friend, Jay, started basically living on our sofa when we were at uni, I had started reading them as usual and I would always stay in the front room with her, on the other sofa. And we used to read the books to each other, a chapter each, until she got tired and I would keep reading until she had fallen asleep.
So last night, a few days later than usual, I picked up The Magician's Nephew and started to read. All the lovely feelings of being on familiar ground and being in for a great read were ignited and I sipped my cup of tea and smiled.
"This is a story about something that happened long ago when your grandfather was a child. It is a very important story because it shows how all the comings and goings between our world and the land of Narnia first began...."
I had probably read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe at some point as a child but then my dad got me the box set in my teens and I read all seven chronicles. It took over my existence for a while. I rejoiced when they defeated the White Witch, when Caspian beat his uncle and reigned over Narnia, when Jill and Eustace broke Prince Rilian free from his spell and when Peter triumphed in the last battle. I despaired when Aslan was killed on the ancient table, when Nikabrik tried to overthrow Caspian and when Edmund and Lucy were told they had to leave Narnia. And I wept for the second half of the last book because I knew the end was nigh.
When in the Narnia zone, it becomes a very real place to me. It is the pleasant background to my normal day. Things are just generally nicer and more storybook, even when I'm just at work.
Right before going on our gap years, my friend Joe and I had walked from his house into Reading, which had taken about four hours. We had talked about Narnia a lot. It was one of those lovely days, early in our friendship when everything we said or did became a nice memory, stored up to take away with me. He left for his gap year before me so I sent him all seven books in the post to China and, miraculously, nothing happened to them along the way. I took a copy of the books with me to Africa and we started to read them on the 16th December, countries and oceans apart, to prepare for Christmas.
In fact, one day, whilst discussing Narnia with a bit of alcohol in our systems, two friends and I jumped into the rather big wardrobe we had in our room in Namibia, and searched around in the back for some snow or trees. We found neither.
Every year since then, I've started reading them on the 16th so I'm usually on book 4 or 5 by Christmas Day, and I keep reading till I finish them.
When my friend, Jay, started basically living on our sofa when we were at uni, I had started reading them as usual and I would always stay in the front room with her, on the other sofa. And we used to read the books to each other, a chapter each, until she got tired and I would keep reading until she had fallen asleep.
So last night, a few days later than usual, I picked up The Magician's Nephew and started to read. All the lovely feelings of being on familiar ground and being in for a great read were ignited and I sipped my cup of tea and smiled.
"This is a story about something that happened long ago when your grandfather was a child. It is a very important story because it shows how all the comings and goings between our world and the land of Narnia first began...."
Saturday, 22 December 2012
Yaya's magic trick
A few days ago, I went to see Yaya and his little sister. Yaya was very eager to show everyone something.
"I'm going to do magich," he said, as that's what he says instead of 'magic.'
"Ok," we said. He brought us all into the front room; Danda, his parents and myself. We sat down and he brought out two small chairs and put four cuddly toys on the chairs.
"Close your eyes," he told us. We heard some noises and the curtains being moved.
"Open them!" he said and we all opened them and gasped in amazement when the toys were no longer there.
"Now, who wants to go first?"
He hadn't explained what we would be doing when we 'went first' but I put my hand up anyway.
"Ok. Everyone close your eyes. Lauwa, come here."
I stood up and he pointed behind the curtains to the pile of toys which had once been on the chairs.
"Bring one," he whispered. So I did. He put it on the chair and told everyone to open their eyes. There were exclamations and shocked expressions of wonderment at this David-Blaine-esque magich trick. How could it possibly have been done?!
A different person was picked each time and everybody else told to close their eyes while that person was instructed to bring a toy from behind the curtains.
Until, eventually, all the toys were out and we were all sitting down feigning surprise.
The finale was Yaya spreading his arms out, hands facing upward, a mysterious smile on his face, saying, ominously.... "How did I do it? You'll never know."
And that was Yaya's magic trick.
"I'm going to do magich," he said, as that's what he says instead of 'magic.'
"Ok," we said. He brought us all into the front room; Danda, his parents and myself. We sat down and he brought out two small chairs and put four cuddly toys on the chairs.
"Close your eyes," he told us. We heard some noises and the curtains being moved.
"Open them!" he said and we all opened them and gasped in amazement when the toys were no longer there.
"Now, who wants to go first?"
He hadn't explained what we would be doing when we 'went first' but I put my hand up anyway.
"Ok. Everyone close your eyes. Lauwa, come here."
I stood up and he pointed behind the curtains to the pile of toys which had once been on the chairs.
"Bring one," he whispered. So I did. He put it on the chair and told everyone to open their eyes. There were exclamations and shocked expressions of wonderment at this David-Blaine-esque magich trick. How could it possibly have been done?!
A different person was picked each time and everybody else told to close their eyes while that person was instructed to bring a toy from behind the curtains.
Until, eventually, all the toys were out and we were all sitting down feigning surprise.
The finale was Yaya spreading his arms out, hands facing upward, a mysterious smile on his face, saying, ominously.... "How did I do it? You'll never know."
And that was Yaya's magic trick.
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