'Retirement' Bucket List

Yesterday evening I finished my job; I indexed my last ever article in The Times.

It was a Law Report; and here it is with my scribble, denoting it was done.

So, now I'm (unofficially) retired. Yes, that's right, I'm calling it 'retired' since it sounds much nicer than unemployed or redundant. It sounds as if I made the choice to be no longer working, rather than having it made for me. Alternatively, I can call myself a Stay At Home Mum (SAHM), but I'm not overly-fond of that expression, although I don't know why.

And now I'm wondering just how to fill the long, long days that stretch before me. Hence the Retirement Bucket List that I've started writing. It makes me feel like I have a purpose.

So far the list looks like this:

1) Make fudge

2) Put WD40 on squeaky door handles

3) Wallpaper hallway and bedroom

4) Paint snug

5) Tidy kitchen cupboards and drawers

6) Sort DC's toys, books and clothes

Can you see I'm aiming high here? I predict no. 2 will happen first as it seems like the one that requires least effort on my part. Although I will have to go into the black hole that is the garage and hunt down the WD40, so perhaps no. 1 will actually be the easiest.

I'll keep you updated on any additions or deletions.

The Mobile Library Comes to Town

The mobile library comes to our village once a month; this is the first time that hubby and I have been around and/or remembered that it was coming so we decided to make the effort to wander up to the high street.

Despite living in Somerset for over two years, we hadn't yet managed to join up to the local library service, so we took along our ID in case it was possible to join up there and then. And, luckily, it was.

The librarian on board mentioned that in the year he's been visiting our village, we were his first 'customers'; I thought he meant that we were the first people to have joined up on board but he said no, we were the first people to actually set foot inside the van in the village. That made me feel extremely sad. He said it's often the case in the more affluent villages, whereas less well-to-do places make better use of the service he provides. That made me feel sad and guilty.

We bumped into some neighbours as we walked back through the village clutching our newly borrowed books (including two books for DC); we told them what we'd just heard about the fact that the mobile library isn't used in our village, they thought it was sad too so I hope they will make the effort to hop aboard and borrow a book or two and also pass on the word that we should use it, or risk losing it.

I am going to do my best to spread the word about the mobile library and hubby is going to put something on the village website; I imagine that some people don't know that it comes to visit once a month, some people are obviously busy when it rolls in, and some people probably forget, but I can't believe we are the only ones in the village who think that borrowing a book (or four) is a great thing to do.

Cornwall Mini-trip: Port Isaac

Saturday morning dawned grey and drizzly in Tintagel so our plans for taking DC to his spiritual home of Tintagel Castle were put on hold. We headed, instead, for the coastal village of Port Isaac in the hope that the weather would be a little better. And it was. Not a single drop of rain all day. Perfick.

This was the view along the coast as we walked from the car park down to the village.

Not too shabby.

And our first glimpse of Port Isaac. Hubby said he would like the large house to the left of the white one, just off centre (I need to learn how to add arrows.) Whereas I said I would like the smaller, squat one, to the left of the one he likes. 

Turns out the house I like is actually Doc Martin's house in the TV programme. 

Except hubby and I have never watched it so we had no idea. Perhaps next time it's on we'll make an effort to tune in.

The tide was most definitely out when we arrived.

Perfect for rock pooling.

And, of course, crabbing!

A very successful crabbing session indeed - we caught 12! 

Clearly the bacon we snaffled from the breakfast plates was a hit with the little crustaceans.

The skies seem very big in Cornwall. 

And so beautifully bluuuuuuuue.

Just wander back from the harbour and the village is oh, so quiet. Narrow alleyways crammed with typical 18th and 19thC Cornish buildings.

Important food stop No. 1

Important food stop No. 2. 

Jam then cream for a Cornish cream tea (which is the way I always do it, because it means you can get more cream on, IMHO.) We enjoyed this little snack-ette in Potters, which is at the bottom of the main street, on the left side just as it curves round towards the harbour. Hubby had the same and DC had a toasted teacake; everything was delicious and my accompanying latte was lovely and strong. If you find yourself in need of sustenance while in Port Isaac I would absolutely recommend a visit to Potters. (And I haven't been paid to say that.)

After our pit stop we headed up the hill on the other side of the harbour (hard going for poor hubby who was pushing DC in his pram.)

But the views more than made up for the sweaty brows.

We absolutely loved our visit to Port Isaac. Hubby and I have already discussed a return trip, perhaps sometime in the depths of winter when we can hunker down in a cafe and feel snug. Ahhh. 

Cornwall Mini-Trip: Padstow

Family W took an impromptu trip to Cornwall last Friday. We were supposed to be heading to London for the weekend, but the trip was cancelled. Hubby had Friday booked off work and a few hours were spent deciding whether he should cancel this holiday and work or still take the day off; further discussion was then required as to what to do if he didn't cancel the day off. I suggested we seize the moment and head off somewhere for the night; this put the cat amongst the pigeons somewhat as we came to the conclusion that since DC has been born, we've given up being spontaneous - what if we forget the babywipes, or the car seat or the bread sticks?!?

Anyhoo, a quick search of the old t'interweb and a possible overnight stop was discovered; a few more minutes of 'shall we, shalln't we?' and the button was pressed and money was paid. A night's accommodation  (in Tintagel) was booked; and with only three nights' notice, we were truly living on the edge.

We set off bright and early Friday morning, heading straight for Padstow. Just 2 hours and 20 minutes later, we were there.

We spent a while walking round the harbour and looking at the shops; first stop was for a lemon curd doughnut at one of Rick Stein's many eateries in town (it's not nicknamed Padstein for nothing); not a bad offering, but nothing special.

After lunch it was time for the highlight of the day - crabbing. DC had been asking for a crabbing net/line for quite a while and we finally succumbed. First we tried the far side of the harbour using a line; no luck.

Then we tried the slipway on the other side of the harbour, this time using a proper crabbing net.

Et voila - our first captive.

Two hours later, when my patience with crabbing had reached its limits, we had caught seven crabs, two shrimp and a fish. And we had a very happy little boy (I've discovered that this is what parenting is all about, apparently, and it's a big old shock to the system.) It was then time to release them all back into the wild (to be caught by some other small child, no doubt) so we could take another little walk around the town. I succumbed in Seasalt and bought a bag; it was only £5 and I was feeling the urge to buy a holiday souvenir of sorts. Why is it that going on 'holiday' makes me feel (even more) free and easy with the cash, even though I've just been made redundant and don't actually have that much to spare? 

By 4.30pm all that crabbing had left us with quite an appetite and we were ready for tea; of course, it had to be fish and chips. The plan was to go to Mr Stein's fish and chip restaurant (he really does have quite the range of eateries); unfortunately it didn't open until 5pm (we weren't having much luck with opening times, having missed out on lunch at his cafe because it didn't open early enough for our rumbling tummies) so we settled on his takeaway next door.

Cod, chips, ketchup and a pot of tartare sauce - £9.05. Say wha'??!!??

It was nice, but it wasn't the absolute best ever in the whole wide world, can't wait to go there again fish and chips, if you get my drift. 

But we did find ourselves eating them on possibly the most boy-friendly perch ever.

And the view was quite something.

All in all, a pleasant day and we were so very lucky with the weather (just a couple of drops of rain at one point); but we've decided we wouldn't rush back to Padstein.

Tune in next time for a visit to somewhere just a little way up the coast that really stole our hearts.

How Does (The Bottom of) Our Garden Grow?

The bottom section of our garden is given over to the growing of fruit and veg, plus an area for the chickens, and a large potting/wood shed. The previous owner had used this part of the garden for the same purpose but because he was in his 90s he hadn't been able to give the garden as much attention as it really needed. Add to that the fact that we didn't really work on the garden for about a year after we bought the house due to renovation work, when we finally moved in we were faced with a somewhat Herculean task.

This was what the bottom of the garden looked like when we bought the house in August 2010; this photo was taken from one of the attic office windows, hence the elevated angle. Can you see the Victorian red brick wall that marks our boundary? No, me either. Can you see the woodshed? You might just about be able to make out a corner of the roof just off centre, about a quarter of the way up.

Here's a view from ground level.

And again, about eight months on in April 2011, just as the building work had started.

Let's step in a little closer. Welcome to the jungle.

Albeit quite a pretty one, in a secret garden kind of way.

That's the entrance to the remains of a fruit cage to the left.

Nearly a year on (March 2012), and some huge progress had been made. 

We could actually see/get to/use the woodshed. The edges of vegetable and fruit beds are visible. And the chicken run is where the fruit cage used to be.

A couple of months on (May 2012) and several tonnes of gravel have helped in marking out the paths between the beds. DC and his trusty spade (plus ice cream bribe) have also helped.

And now, July 2013, the bottom part of the garden (I mentioned to hubby that we should call it 'the kitchen garden' because it sounds so grand...) is looking verily tip top and abundant, thanks to hubby's hard work over the last couple of years.

Runner beans, plus onions and garlic in this bed behind one of the apple trees.

Squash, courgette, beetroot, peas, carrots and probably something else that I've forgotten.

Jerusalem artichokes, rhubarb, dahlia and a rose bush in the small bed nearest the camera.

Two beds chock-full of raspberries. Enough last year to make 36 jars of jam. 

Here's hoping for the same this year.

Some of the apple trees are just visible top left of the photo.

And it looks like it's going to be a VERY good year for apples. We've got five established trees and three new ones, so we could soon be buried under a mountain of eaters and cookers.

And one final photo - I was trying to take a shot of the beautiful cedar tree, but I got photo bombed.