Food for thought

It's funny, but people not included, many of the things that I seem to miss from home are food or drink related.  There are lots of things that I do miss about home, the scenery, the television, and the history among many other things, but I often find myself thinking about food and drink from home that I can't have.

Of course like many things, the fact that I can't have it makes me want it all the more. You can get some things over here, from the 'special' section of the supermarket, or from one of those British shops, but most things cost a fortune and I can't really justify that.

The things that I really miss though, are the things that you just can't get over here.  Every time I see a UK detective program on TV (which I have to admit I'm a bit of a fan of) and they end up in the pub (which they usually do) I find myself craving a pint.  Not a pint of cold, fizzy stuff, there's plenty of that over here, but a pint of real beer. Flat and warm, the way that it's supposed to be.  Ideally with some pork scratchings or salt and vinegar crisps, or smoky bacon. Proper thin cut crisps, not the thick sliced 'chips' you get over here.

Talking of chips, I miss chips from a British Chippy, with vinegar.  Of course there are fish and chip shops over here, and the fish is good, but the 'hot' chips just aren't quite there.  The smell from a UK fish and chip shop one of those smells that just makes you really hungry, even if you've just eaten.

The food I miss most of all though, is my Mum's cooking.  I suppose that's what it all comes down to though, food that reminds me of home is comforting.  Like smells and sounds, taste evokes memories and comforting thoughts. It's perhaps a good job that I haven't got access to all of these things that I'm craving at the moment, especially as I'm trying to deal with food baby.......

Warming up

The weather has been all over the place lately, warm one day, cold the next, sunny one minute, followed by that heavy 'straight down' rain that soaks everything in it's path.  Today was beautiful though, just like a summers day, and it's only October. (Only October, that sounds so strange, we should, in my mind at least, be well into Autumn by now.)

It was so beautiful this morning, that after I'd dropped the boys of at school and Lena at daycare, I decided to go for a bit of a drive.  As I was already in Port Chalmers, I decided to keep going and head out to Aramoana.  It may be famous for all of the wrong reasons, and have a very sad past, but there is something just lovely about the beach there.  I like the drive along the road too, past all of those little bays, and in the morning sunshine, the whole area looked magnificent, it was the open sea and beach we were really heading towards though.

I've driven there a few times over the winter months, but always wimped out of going for more than a quick walk, especially when I've had children to drag along with me.  This morning though it was far too nice to pass up the chance, so although the tide was rather high, we went for a lovely walk along by the sea. 

Anja was a little concerned by the sea, "the water's coming to get me Mummy. It's going to get my feet."  Other than that she loved being there and getting down onto the beach.  We had the whole beach to ourselves, apart from a few sea birds, who obviously had far more right to be there than we did.

It might be another warm day tomorrow, but at this time of the year it's just as likely to be snowing in the morning.  Either way today was a lovely warm day, and we made the most of it.

Eight is the magic number

No, this isn't some an admission that I'm pregnant with quads, or planning on adding to my family in any way.  Four is the magic number when it comes to children I think, but in other things, eight has always been my magic number.

I suppose it's because my birthday is on the 8th, and it's in October (which means eight, even if it's now the tenth month) and my year of birth has an 8 in it too (but more than that I'm not admitting).  Then Mahe was born in 2008 and Anja was born on the 8th of June, and weighed 8lb 8oz.  I'm sure that there are as many 'signs' that could make other number just as special for me, but I always decided that I liked eight, and so it's always been my lucky number.

8lb 8oz on the 8th

Last week my biggest boy turned eight, which seems completely crazy.  How can he possibly be that old already? I remember when he was born thinking that eight was so grown up, even though obviously eight year olds are still very much children, I still couldn't quite get my head around my little baby being that big.

Mr 8 before his haircut.

It's not as bad as turning five, although of course he's older than that, because it's not an age that's a real landmark, not like starting school or something similar.  I know that this is not startling new news, it's what everyone says, but they really do grow up so fast.  I look at him sometimes and wonder how he can possibly be so grown up, such a little person in his own right (and let's be honest; not so little these days) it only seems a few moments ago that he was a tiny little newborn.  At the same time though, I can't really get my head around the thought of not being a Mum, the way I once was.  It seems so long ago.

Eight years ago

He wasn't the only one to have a birthday last week, my other big boy was six the day before his brother was eight.  I think I may have said before, after having Kai, I'd said for a while that I'd like a two year age gap, I didn't really expect to end up with a gap of exactly two years though!

Mr 6 with a birthday pressy

Again six years old isn't as bad as turning five, this time last year I as a bit of an emotional mess about him starting school, but now that he's been there a year it's not so bad.  Of course I will have that all to go through again next year with another little person turning five.  It's never ending.

But for now it's all about birthdays, my big boys and the number eight.