I want no MTV

In January 2009 I moved to a house at the foot of a hill. The wee Nab in Whalley, not all that grand, is large enough to prevent any kind of decent terrestrial television signal from reaching the redundant arial that awaits patiently to no avail. No signal means no T.V. (when you despise Sky as vehemently as I). Thus my television set is left to join an ever growing list of superfluous items that litter my home.

So alarmed were those around me to learn of my loss that I was soon inundated with offers of solutions including; new sets with built in digi box, new arial leads and other various electrical equipment. The clutter of electrical redundancies in the corner of my living room, if not ridiculous, would actually make me laugh. Luckily for me, and more importantly for my four year old son, we have the internet - and the internet has BBC iplayer. So you could say we aren't living entirely without telly.

How has it been living without a myriad of channels to trawl through? Have we missed the range, the options, the currency? Frankly, no. There are times when I have missed the ability to follow the Tennis, or the mind-numbing relief of watching something mind-numbing following a stressful day. Yet, overall it has been blissful. My house is peaceful, beyond the calls and plights of my four year old son and the occasional bouts of maternal rath.

Without T.V. we can chat, we can think, we read, we play and if our desire to watch something overwhelms us we sit together and feed our dark craving suitably with iplayer.

My little house and I have missed the passing of the digital era but we have not missed T.V. Unfortunately we are set to move this month. A move that will return us back to the world of telly. I only hope we'll survive the transition.

Watch this space.

Clear skies

For the most part, I am a positive, excitable, idealist. Seeing the good in things, people, or situations comes naturally to me. Imagine then, how baffled I am to find myself privy to a web of negativity and upset. So fraught I am with worry and anxiety about this new-found approach to living that I am set to make a change.

Luckily for me I have been working on writing an article, for an academic journal, on the concept of 'risk magnification' in midwifery. Whilst reading an enthralling commentary By Dahlen (2010) on fear and trust in childbirth, I happened upon this most brilliant of timely found quotes:

'our anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, but only empties today of it's strength'

Not normally a sucker for this approach to bettering myself I have, for the sake of utilitarian happiness, relented and sucked it up. This will now resound as my mantra for the coming hours, days, weeks until I shake myself free from my negativity and rejoin the bubbly world of optimism and delight. I wish to see hazard only in those storm clouds where it exists and live life more fully in the clear skies between them.

For those cynics amongst you, repeat after me: "philosophical bullshit is good for you", Amen.

Motherhood reignited my passion for baking.

As Seamus slept in those first hazy weeks of his life, I, being riddled with post-birth lunacy, filled that precious time making luxurious patisseries. The frenzy of cake-making was such that I had to start giving them away to all welcoming, yet increasingly puzzled, neighbours (it was that or become victim to a cake-a-day habit). It has always baffled me when reflecting on those initial heady months how I managed to squeeze in so much home-making activity in amongst the frantic baby-club drop ins and almost constant breastfeeding activity. But I did. Why, I scream to myself now? Why did you not sleep, every moment Seamus sent? I certainly remember day dreaming of sleep during his wakeful moments but could never muster even a split second of shut eye when he finally shut his. So I filled the time baking cakes. I make excellent cakes, being the Granddaughter of a genuine home-baked bread and cakes Baker.

However, as Seamus has grown my time to perfect my cakes has shriveled. It was initially replaced by my sons incessant need to be carried, then by inordinate amounts of floor play, moving on to bike rides, scooter rides, days out and reading books (not to mention the move back in to part-time paid work and then full-time paid work). More recently Seamus has become the Baker and now my cakes look as above (neatly made by my boy tonight). So as you see gourmet chocolate ganache has been replaced by vile saccharine icing and hundreds and thousands of teeth rotters.

But witnessing the smile (that is left - post this over-sugared treat) is worth it.