mothers on the verge

I've been properly inducted into the ways of the countryside. Last night I was happily vegging out in front of the telly, working through a bottle of wine and chuckling away as I watched Strictly Ballroom with Mother-in-Law, when we heard an odd rustling noise in the corner of the room. We turned to look and were faced with the sight of a rather large black snake winding its way through the open French windows into the sitting room. We both screamed "agggghhhh! Snake!", leapt up and danced about on the spot in ineffectual panic. After more screaming and jigging about Motherr-in-Law ran off to get the broom which I then jabbed at the intruder for a while until it got the hint and left, slithering off rapidly in the direction of the vegetable garden. I didn't get much sleep after that, as I'm sure you can imagine. Maybe I'm a city girl after all.

It's astonishing how easy it is to turn into Suzy Homemaker when a woman has lots of time on her hands. Here I am in deepest France, slowly ballooning as I work my way through the contents of the local bakery and cook myself into oblivion with huge amounts of butter, cream, eggs and sugar. My culinary output this past week alone includes: Chicken and mushroom pie Breaded chicken escalopes in a tomato and mozerella sauce Home-made mayonnaise Bread and butter pudding with creme anglaise Coconut chicken curry Meatballs in tomato sauce Watermelon and raspberry smoothies plus about a million kiddie meals of toasted cheese sandwiches/ pasta and hot dog combos/ assorted veggies Tonight I'm making the very non-PC meal of veal in cream sauce, but hey, when in France... MM - what's happening to me? Am I turning into a (s)mother??? (am also getting through a vat of wine every night though, so maybe I am just turning in to a pig?)

We left Dubai as part of the annual summer exudos last week. Dubai is awash with testosterone every summer as the mothers and kids head for more temperate climes, leaving the Dads sweaty in the searing heat and bereft of their usual civilising wifely influences. Alpha came with us for the initial jaunt - a very quick dash to London then on to France - but flew back to Dubai last night. He's now adrift in a sea of maleness with only the cats and a DVD boxset of Family Guy for company. Hopefully he will return to us at the start of August with his facilities intact. It was odd being back in London again after a five-month absence. This is the city I adored for 18 years, a flawed angel that brought me moments of sheer joy interspersed with despair. I thrived on the sheer energy of the place, the contrast of grandeur and shabbiness, the anonyminity, the excitement of feeling that anything could happen, the wide expanse of possibility. I also sank under its difficulties; the crush of th

It’s summer and with a young child, ice cream is a joyful, daily ritual. But as I’ve been shelling out dollars over the past days, I began to realize just how our economy plays out — even with something as simple as an ice cream cone. In New York City, Mr. Softee is our basic ice cream man — a truck that features a smiling ice cream cone with a swirl of vanilla on his head that is a bit Carmen Miranda-looking to me. One truck usually pops up outside my daughter’s school downtown when warm weather hits. The deal is simple — you hand your kid $1.50, and she comes running back with a vanilla cone covered in rainbow sprinkles. Three weekends ago, the little one was treated to a cone in SoHo Vanilla ice cream, please, with sprinkles. With $1.50 in hand, my husband turned back to me and asked me for another $3. One for me too? Nope. In SoHo the treat was $4. Then, last weekend, we all ended up on the Upper East Side — a rushed visit to my daughter’s doctor when her temperature hit 104ºF. Wit

Amazing how I get anxious about every summer approaching....(how will I get my work done?!?!?) And then that magic rhythm hits and I realize how much more wonderful it is to have the work flow ebb without the rush of school letting out, homework insanity, dinner crush and bedtime. Viva la summer.