new experience

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#76: Make some jewellery

Thanks to Groupon I found myself a bargain, in the form of a half day jewellery making workshop only 20 minutes drive from where I live. (see the most excellent http://www.vinesdesigns.co.uk)

Cathy Vine has a beautiful home, full of artistic and creative pieces, and she makes splendid cake, and even more splendid jewellery. Her workshop is a feast of beads of every possible shape and size.

The company at my workshop consisted predominantly of ladies who were probably in their late 50s, all active in the fields of cardmaking and various stitching pursuits, all with short grey hair, and names like Jan, Jane, Janet, Joan; so differentiation was difficult. The chat didn’t get much beyond pleasantries, especially once we were all concentrating hard on our creations.

We were shown some amazing pieces of jewellery, and various techniques and equipment to make it all. A surprising array of paraphernalia, who would have thought there were so many different types of pliers? And Cathy made it all look very easy. At first we were overwhelmed by possibilities, then gradually everyone’s ideas took form. It was remarkable how different the final pieces all were.

Once we began, it all got far trickier than the demo had made it look. My loops were not very loopy. My pins were too short. My clasps were not clasping. I was not the only one experiencing issues, we were all vying for some individual expert tuition. Anything we expressed a need for was found with alacrity, Cathy must have beads in every corner and cranny of her home. And the end results were quite remarkable. If I say so myself, I have come away with an item that I don’t think looks too amateurish. In fact I must send a picture to my personal shopper, because I have tried to create the ‘statement necklace’ that she advised me would complete so many of my outfits. Quite what statement it is making I am not sure!
necklace displayed
The only frustration was in seeing so many possibilities and only having time to make one thing. I might even go back again! Whoever would have expected that?!

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#75: Have a conversation in another language

Hooray, I have had dozens of conversations in French over the weekend, and very satisfying it has been too, though it does rather remind me how much I have forgotten and what a shame it is to have let my once passable language skills deteriorate to such an extent. My tenses are in tatters and my vocab reduced to a tenth of its former scale. But still, I can converse, and some people, if they are minded to be kind, appear to understand.

My children were rather disorientated at first, to find Mummy babbling indecipherably. The French children, unpossessed as they were of any tact, admitted to equal bafflement. My French-speaking but fundamentally Welsh hostess was a godsend, as she could fathom what I was trying to say even while I butchered the French language beyond recognition.

Thus we managed to discuss English and French customs and routines, talk of my former worklife, share anecdotes of children’s misdemeanours, make plans for the day, and convey the children’s preferences in terms of cuisine. (Do not underestimate the challenges of this last one, it is complicated enough in one’s native tongue.) As our final night drew to a close and we turned to the pros and cons of Scottish independence I confess I gave up and reverted to English. But for 2 and 1/2 days, mostly French was spoken. So that was very pleasing.

And of course the best bit was seeing the kids make their own attempts. Eva is very proud of her ‘merci pour le petit dejeuner’ (indeed she applies it in almost any context). Everyone has mastered the basics: bonjour, merci, oui, non, au revoir, and jus de pomme. They have all been willing to try and name things in French, and I even overheard the beginnings of a very halting conversation between Eva and our 7 year old French host, about how old they both were. So I am delighted we came, 5 is not too young for a French exchange after all, despite our misgivings.

An excellent weekend’s work.

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#73: Master a circus skill (breathing fire!)

My attempts with the unicycle have been broadly unsuccessful. I cannot even sit on it long enough to try and pedal. So I have reluctantly had to give up on that aspiration.

But instead I looked at other circus skills, that I might have more aptitude for. And once again the legendary Hectic came up trumps. He just happened, he said, to have a firebreathing kit in the shed, and could teach me to do that in a few moments, should I wish. ‘Is there much danger with it?’ I asked, in a carefully casual tone. ‘Well I suppose you could burn your face off. But most people don’t’.

That seemed enough of a health and safety assessment. We sank a few pints, ate a ton of Baked Alaska, and got the kit out.

The process is curious. First we practiced spraying water through pursed lips to create a fine mist. That was the essential technique. ‘Don’t spit. Spray.’ Then the fire was lit, on the end of a truncheon. I rinsed my mouth round with milk, as instructed. Then took a sip of paraffin, wiped my mouth, and sprayed it in the direction of the flame, held an arms’ length away.

The first attempt was unimpressive. But then I had another go. You need to watch the video right to the end! It was remarkable! I am delighted! There was a sharp intake of breath as all spectators thought I must have lost my hair, at the very least! But surprisingly it was fine, and much less dramatic for me in the middle of it, than for those watching it.

Do not try this at home children. But I am extraordinarily pleased with it! (and it is much easier than a unicycle!)

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#59: Sleep rough AND #60: Spend the night in a haunted castle

Ok, technically we were just outside the haunted castle, but it definitely should have been close enough to be aware of any ghostly presence.

I am glad this is behind me – it wasn’t terrifying, but really just rather unpleasant! I woke up at 4am to find everything sopping wet and a slug snuggled up with me on the sleeping mat. No ghouls in evidence though.

But back to the beginning. Part of the challenge in achieving any of these things is how to fit it all in with normal life, without getting myself a) arrested or b) pegged as a total weirdo by my entire acquaintance. I may be failing on the latter but it is still quite important to avoid the former.

Rather than sleep rough in my own village, where I might be recognised; or among real homeless people, where I might offend by appearing to minimise their difficulties; I cunningly combined that challenge with the haunted venue. My husband was happy to take on the ghouls and the sleeping rough, but was pretty adamant that breaking into historic property would not be acceptable. I was quite keen for the company, and thus the limits were set.

As luck would have it, my mother in law lives near just the place, and so our escapade was incorporated into a family visit. We left the children with grandparents, and then, (after watching a DVD about all the ghostly sightings to date at the castle in question, to whip ourselves into a fearful frenzy), we set off at 10pm with sleeping bags, mats, bivvy bags and bin liners.

We drove as close as we could and parked. We were already dressed in night attire, and teeth brushed, just like any other vagrant. We hiked with the sack of sleeping apparatus down a long forested path, by a sliver of moonlight. We eventually reached the castle. All was enveloped in foggy gloom. We investigated the walls and towers for somewhere suitable to ‘camp’. All options seemed to involve lying on wet grass, and being rather visible if anyone chanced to come past. We plumped for a spot where we were at least partially hidden between a tall bush and the high castle walls. The allegedly most haunted tower was right in front of us. Ideal for spotting any ghostly doings.

We lay some bin bags down first, then the therma-rests, then stuffed the 4-season down sleeping bags inside the bivvy bags. Each wearing 2 pairs of trousers, 2 pairs of socks, thermal tops, down jackets, hats, scarves and gloves, we climbed in. God it was hot! It may not have been terribly authentic, for I suspect not many of the actual homeless are working up a sweat in early April at midnight. After all that preparation we had to remove most of the gear!

Here we are, looking more ghostly than any ghoul:
scary night pic
It was completely dark by now, clouds hid the moon and stars, and there was no sign of otherworldly goings on. So we curled up and slept. And that is really all I can report, until 3.45am when we both awoke, needing the loo, and unable to ignore the fact it was raining reasonably hard. Everything on the outside was soaked, yet in the middle of our cocoons we were toasty. We discussed whether it would be acceptable to get up and go home. Since nobody is making the rules here but me, I concluded that that was allowed!
So we packed up, removed the slugs, stuffed all the wet gear in a rucksack, and trudged back up the hill in the blackness.
slug
We were home and snuggled up in a warm comfy bed by 4.30, ready to enjoy the luxury of a Nannie-enabled lie in. I appreciate that is not a recourse that is open to most rough sleepers, and although the whole experiment has been somewhat flippant, I find myself sympathising with their plight in a whole new way. We can at least go home and dry everything off in a nice warm house. What do people do once they are wet, and then stuck outside all day the next day and the next night, and the next day after that?

I was rather disappointed not to have more scary happenings to report. I promise I did choose a place that purports to be extremely haunted. Alas it was a quiet night for the ghouls. Though in truth I had taken my glasses off and stuck my head half way down a sleeping bag, so it’s also possible that I just missed them!

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#57: Become a charity trustee

Well this one panned out slightly differently from my intentions 3 months ago, but I am delighted with the result nonetheless. For as of Friday, I am not a charity trustee, but a school governor. Which I believe is the same kind of responsibility, but in a different setting. The election results are just in, and I am to be a parent governor of the primary school where my 3 children attend.

(And just in case any school parents are reading this: please don’t imagine that I only applied to tick off a challenge on the blog! Quite the reverse in fact – I put it on the list because it is something I really want to do, and have too long dithered over. I am much looking forward to learning more about the running of school, and being involved in this way.)

Hurrah!

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#56: Plant a tree

Mission accomplished today, in very pleasant fashion.

A friend in our village last week revealed that she had been following the legendary blog, and might be able to help me with a challenge. She was expecting a delivery of fruit trees, and when they arrived, would I care to come round and help plant them?
Well indeed I would, and this week they are here. (It was particularly happy timing as I had locked myself out of my own house and needed some other purpose to occupy the hours!). So round I went.

And it was a most productive assignment. We planted a fig tree in the greenhouse, a damson tree outside, and in the process I have learnt much about roots, soil types, stakes, online gardening suppliers, types of fruit tree and their preferences… and all from chatting to someone who I would never otherwise have thought to engage in a lengthy discourse about gardening! I came away quite enthused! As soon as I have a garden to call my own I might just attempt to grow some stuff in it!
damson tree

fig tree
I liked getting grubby, I liked doing something productive, and I especially liked learning useful things that I didn’t know. I can’t get enough of these random new experiences, and I love the way it is throwing me into contact with all sorts of people, who are so very nice and helpful.

Now since I’m on a roll, I’m off to ask at the garage if they’d let me drive a bus!

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#53: Sing karaoke

This was a very unexpected evening. And another much dreaded challenge turned to surprising success! (Success defined here in terms of fun, rather than singing quality, as you’ll see!)

I had been intending to go far, far from home for this one, to hide in some grotty bar and embarrass myself in front of people who I would at least never have to face again. Regular followers will be well aware that my vocal chords have not been privy to the finest training.

But then, walking past our village pub, what should I see but an advert on the chalk board outside, for karaoke, this very weekend. And with heavy heart I realised what I must do…

The babysitter was booked, the husband’s support enlisted. Alas, the friends were all indisposed that night (apart from one late recruit who unexpectedly proved a great karaoke talent!)

As proceedings kicked off, the only act was a trio of 8 year olds. Having initiated the party, they were taken home to bed, and we thought we might just get away with singing our duet to an empty room and scurrying home. But it was not to be.

We put our names on the list. We stepped up to the mike. We listened to the lengthy intro and almost missed the start. Then we burst into a horrifying rendition of ‘Love lifts us up where we belong’ by Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes. Happily(?) it was all captured on film. I defy anyone to listen to it through to the end!

The room began to fill – more from curiosity than a desire to hear more. But at least we set the bar so low, that no one could fear stepping up! The event gathered pace as more people ventured near. We were a small but committed group! There was never any lull in volunteers.

The beer flowed. The songs kept coming. We made new friends. We became the very best of friends! We signed one another up for increasingly difficult songs. Unlikely duets were forged; group performances came together. Employees of the local garage were in fine voice. Some of the elders of the village were tempted to participate, and applauded most generously. ‘Ring of Fire’ by Jonny Cash brought everyone to their feet. The landlord himself got up and rapped, to the crowd’s delight.

Even after my challenge was more than met, I found myself part of a line up offering Bohemian Rhapsody; and later a squealingly poor rendition of ‘Whole New World’, (that romantic tune from Aladdin, for any aficionados of Disney films). It really didn’t suit my voice! (Though it is hard to think of any song that would.)

In the small hours of Sunday morning, the landlord played ‘Hit the road Jack’ and turned the lights up. The performers exited reluctantly, hugging and congratulating one another, quite overwhelmed with real ale and one another’s brilliance. It was just an enormously good laugh. One of those nights that puts a smile on your face whenever you think of it! Hooray for the karaoke!

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#52: Go biking in the dark

It is often hard to galvanise myself to go out biking even during the day.  Even though I know I will like it!  But somehow the temptation to sit on my arse always has a greater pull.  And that is doubly the case, when I am already in my pyjamas, it is 9.30pm, and cold and dark outside.

So I am particularly pleased a) that I gathered myself to do it, and b) that it was marvellous!   It was quite liberating to be out, alone, in the dark, cycling by torchlight along the paths round the lakes.  Visibility was reduced to where the torch was pointing, so it wasn’t exactly scenic, but kind of dramatic in a different way. The sounds were more noticeable.  The bird calls, and the sound of swans wings flapping as they entered the water in flight.   The moonlight sparkling across the lake surface was lovely.  The feel of the breeze and the night air perked me up no end.  It confirmed my suspicion that I spend far too much time indoors.  There is no need to think a day is over just because the sun has set.  I must do this more often!

The whole point, when this went on the list, was that I have been meaning to affix proper lights to my bike for about 3 years.  I have never quite got round to it, and hence can only cycle in the daytime.  And tediously, I still haven’t got round to it, but I’ve managed to tick it off the list by borrowing a powerful head torch and compromising on safety (don’t try this at home children..). 

But now I am even more motivated to sort the bike lights, because it was great! Excellent.

 

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#50: Do something unique and special with each of my children (part 2)

The eldest had a day off school this week. It is always a hard one to call, she had seemed peaky, but by 9.30 it was hard to see there was very much wrong.

But in any case, it presented a rare opportunity for some one to one time with her. And she could not believe her luck when I suggested we do painting together, at an easel, outside, so that we could copy what we saw in the garden. I envisaged the two of us, passing a happy morning, companionably dunking our brushes, chatting of this and that, assessing the light on the branches… but of course she is 5. What actually happened was that I abandoned my own craft to sit next to her, advising on how to dunk the brush in water without then streaking the whole canvas with too-runny paint. But that was nice too.
painting cakey
Regarding subject matter, I had envisaged replicating the cherry blossom, the willow tree opposite, a cloud bespeckled sky, that kind of thing. Caitlin chose to immortalise the trampoline. Ah well. Who is to say what is art, after all? Perhaps it is indeed this:
caitlin's art
I suppose we will have to put it on the wall now. Heavens.

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#48: pick up all the litter on my street AND #49: Be a children’s entertainer

Time is slipping away from me, if 100 challenges are to be done by May. And the only answer is to start doubling up on them. So, I hatched a cunning plan to combine these two in one activity.

My husband and several other gentlemen of the village went away for the weekend. All the abandoned wives and children sought solace in numbers, and gathered together for a marathon 24 hour play date and sleepover. I volunteered to lead the first activity: a village litter pick-up, dressed as superheroes. It was inspired, as it enabled me to a)gain maximum value from the Bananaman investment, and b) create a slightly strange and dare I even say fun event from an activity that might otherwise have met with protest.

But it is marvellous how willingly the children accept such proposals. ‘We’re all going to dress up as superheroes and pick up all the litter in the village’. Of course we are. What else are Saturday afternoons for? 10 children ranging from 3-8 years embraced the prospect, and presented as instructed, variously dressed as Batman, Spiderman, a princess, a pirate, a ballerina, Mrs Incredible… I gave them each a carrier bag for their spoils. And a pep talk about how the village needs us. No litter must remain after our efforts. And off they all ran, in high spirits.

I had been anxious we’d fail to find any litter (for such is the nature of the very community-spirited village we hail from) – but once we started to look we found a surprising amount. They checked around bins, dug about in ditches, scraped up mushy paper. On occasion the refuse was so precariously positioned that only Bananaman could safely go in for it. Between us we filled about 8 carrier bags, enough for everyone to feel proud! And finished up in the park for some well deserved celebratory roundabouting. Happily we only bumped into one other family, and she was very understanding about it!
litter picking party
The hunt was followed by a feast of chicken nuggets, ice cream and cookies, a couple of hours of trampolining, endless table football contests, DVDs and stories.

But at bedtime a couple of the kids were asked what had been the best thing about the day. ‘Litter picking with Bananaman’ came the gratifying reply. Oh yes.