The heat is on!

No, not a catchy tune from a classic eighties movie, rather the sound of the fuel pump and the heat radiating through this previously very chilly old house. It feels like a home again. Though I did enjoy the exuberance of the open log fire these last few weeks, it just feels great to have warmth and constant hot water. Bathing in the sink with the kettle, a thing of the past. Bring on a nice hot shower. The ‘Old Boy’ who fleeced us last weekend, should be ashamed, what with making unnecessary work for his standard hourly rate and not actually fixing the problem that was at hand. I won’t go into details, I’m just happy that things are looking up again.

Our nanny Sindy has just arrived back from her midday break and the little ones are getting motivated upstairs. Breakfast and the school run was as per normal except the shouting and screaming of Aaliyah. She returned home from preschool, a model child. Their midday nap was a quiet one. Backtracking now as to why Aaliyah was screaming with discontent on the school run – she had viciously grabbed Amritsar’s nicely brushed pony tail and pulled it a number of times with a certain ferocity. It was all rather cruel and poor Amritsar wept in grief. What brought it on was next to nothing. I didn’t even really pick up on it, just a split second my back was turned, it wasn’t clear what provoked it, but it was nothing that a seconds behaviour would deserve. I picked her up underarm and sat her in the thinking chair. I did raise my voice – perhaps too loudly. I shouted a bit and mentioned ‘Mrs Snodgrass’. It got the desired response, but there was still little remorse for what she had done. I reaffirm what I said yesterday in that the little ones have a massive step to take in growing up before they join the minions of school children in reception year.

For me the morning was devoted to standing over the Aga stirring a rather large pot of ‘Tomato Chutney’ every few minutes or so, to be sure it didn’t catch and burn. It would seem that ‘Dadda’s Jams’ have gone savoury this month. The glass jars of ruby red relish with little flecks of mustard seed peaking through the glass have been thoroughly sterilised and are now labelled and stacked besides the spice pumpkin jam that was made over the weekend with defrosted pumpkin pulp made with the remains of ‘Mr Pumpkin Head’, our door sentry guarding us over ‘All Hallows Eve’. I want to do something with the glut of pears I have. Any ideas out there? I’m thinking of a combination of pears and vanilla. More to follow later.