No sooner do I write a post here saying how good Rachel Unthank is, she (they) gets nominated for the Mercury Prize!

That said, go careful. I listened to the CD twice yesterday and that was it, the songs were locked in my head for the whole of last (mostly sleepless) night and still there now. They may never leave.

Guess where Cameron and I went on Sunday?

Go on, guess.

No, not the garden centre (we did that Monday instead ha ha ha).

Nope, not B&Q.

Not even Borders for coffee-and-a-book.

We spent the day at the Lovebox London Weekender, and very good it was too. Mum and dad had the children and very kindly dropped us (and picked us up) at a tube station. We saw lots of bands we had never heard of, ate surprisingly good food (jerk chicken was fantastic), did lots of people-watching (Londoners dress so well compared with people in Chester! Though I do think non-spring-chicken girls should think very carefully before adopting the Kate Moss short shorts and wellies combo). The Howling Bells were not my cup of tea and we wandered off halfway through; Roni Size had a good sound but again, not my thing. When it started to rain we sheltered under the overhang of one of the smaller stages and caught the beginning of Rachel Unthank‘s set. Which was so fantastic that we stayed for the whole thing even though the sun came back out on about the third song: I even bought the CD afterwards. And got it signed.

Goldfrapp were (was?) good, and pleasingly bonkers with a stageshow that included dancing angels in bikinis, a maypole that turned into a pole-dancing pole, and dancers in bikinis and wolf heads. Oh, and costumes made out of what looked like the plastic recycling bin.

At last it was time for the Flaming Lips, the reason we had gone – this was their only UK date this year. Who completely out-bonkersed Goldfrapp (she must have been a bit miffed) with a giant bubble, balloons, streamers, smoke, dressed-up people and inflatable aliens. Brilliant. Had everybody singing along and dancing. I have some photos here, though we took the small camera for reasons of lightness so they are not that fantastic.

I spent the morning with a new friend, as I have become aware that poor Tamsin spends nearly all her time playing with (or near) big girls and has hardly any playmates her own age. Come September she’s going to be billy no mates if I don’t do something. My new friend spent the whole time putting Tamsin’s new friend on the ubiquitous naughty step, even though as far as I could see she was not being the least bit naughty, while saying oh she is very tired we had a bad night and she started early this morning. Yet the child was not allowed to go for a nap because NapTimeâ„¢ was at 1. This is not my style – we don’t have a naughty step and I was entirely taken aback once when a visitor asked me where ours was as she wanted to put her child on it. But when the new friend asked me what my discipline technique was, I hedged, ummed and ahhed, muttered something about not being a fan of The Step, and changed the subject. So I am trying to get it clear in my own head (hence this long rambling post).

(She also looked at me askance when I gave the wrong answer to the question “do you have a routine?”)

I’ve been thinking a bit even before she asked, in the way that surely all parents of preschoolers or second toddlers (who are far more toddler than the first ever was) must, about rewards, “incentives”, punishments and so forth. I know I don’t usually go in for talking about my parenting philosophy (for want of a better term: I hope you do know, dear reader, that I am very much not the sort of person to have a parenting philosophy of any description) but bear with me and I’ll tell you all about the weeds on the allotment again soon.

So, I’ve been doing some reading – ivillage, naturally; Alfie Kohn; Faber & Mazlish; Scott Noelle; Naomi Aldort (though I cannot finish this book it is not for want of trying. It is far too preachy yet hand-wavingly unconcrete for me, but that’s not it. The main problem is – forgive me, I know she is American; I know I should translate; I know I should just get over it – I just cannot get past the very idea that I should say gee, what a bummer to my kids. Shudder.) For those of you who are reluctant – whyever would that be – to dash straight down to Borders*, this article gives you an idea of the sorts of ideas I’ve been mulling. Interesting, eh? (Topical, too, as this was in the news today.)

I am not entirely anti reward. If I didn’t reward myself with a lovely latte and a biscuit, goodness knows this house would be even dustier than it is now. But. This week as I collected M from preschool I was told that today she had got three stickers and as a result could choose a lurid lolly to take home! Wow. So, not unreasonably, I asked M (as her tongue rapidly turned blue) what the stickers had been for. One, she was pretty sure, had been for eating all her lunch. (This sets me off in a whole other direction: food battles is one of my things: especially with girls in this day and age, we pay as little obvious attention as possible to what and whether they are eating. But moving swiftly on). The others….nope, not sure. Being good, possibly. So I asked Katie, the preschool teacher. Who told me they were for “erm, stuff like sitting still and things”. Surely, surely if a child is being encouraged to build up her three stickers so she can get a lolly, someone in charge, and most definitely that child, should know what they are being given out for?

So: I continue to ponder in a conclusion-less manner whilst never getting out of the house without screeching get your shoes on right now! Which works: shoes go on and we are out of the door in a flash. It would just be nice to do it in a more peaceful fashion.

Of course I didn’t say anything at preschool. My other piece of parenting philosophy, which is as well applied to preschool and everybody else as children, is pick your battles.

*or your local independent bookshop

Just back in, and feeling the need to lie in a darkened room. Today’s plan had been the library until I cleverly remembered about the Unison strike. A diversion to soft play seemed clever, and also avoided the misery of town-on-the-bus-in-the-rain, only I somehow failed to realise (dur) that the schools would also be shut for the strike. Hell. On. Earth.

Blue horizontal stripes seem to be the last word in preschool chic, so once Maggie had gone she had gone, never to be seen again. Tamsin enjoyed the toddler area for a while – she doesn’t get to spend much time with toddlers so it was good having people to refuse to share with – but of course, being 20 months going on 4, wanted to play in the big bit. The slide at Wizz kidz* is very big and very fast, and there were an awful lot of children, so I had to go in too. Which was fine (actually it was good as we were all narky with each other this morning but have come home friends) but wasn’t exactly the lovely sit down with a coffee and a book I had envisaged when we left the house.

Thank you for your flapjack tips: I left the last batch in the tin overnight to get really cold and it was much better. You still very much needed a plate, as it disintegrates if you breathe on it wrong, but it can at least be attempted without a spoon. Today’s question involves bread: how do I make pumpkin seeds stick to the top? I can put them in the mix, which is fine, but when you buy a lovely expensive loaf from Betty’s, as I generally do when I visit my sister, it has seeds on the top too. I put them on but they never fail to drop off when I turn the loaf to tap the bottom. I’m wondering if I should be sticking them on with an egg wash, as their crust is a bit shiny.

*Why oh why?

Another allotment supper: we are having potato salad made with Charlotte potatoes, which are fantastic. I still have half a row of Epicure (“proper” new potatoes), which are absolutely delicious but require about 3 or 4 plants to be dug to get enough for a meal. One plant of Charlotte provided 1.4 kg today! I don’t know whether they are just a more prolific spud or if it is down to the layer of Pete’s special composty manure spread in the bottom of the planting hole. And you can see how lovely they look. Um, sorry, where was I…a potato salad made with Charlotte potatoes, dill and tarragon, and a shallot, all of which were grown with my own fair hands. You can also see some beetroot in there, and some assorted lettuce, which we will eat tomorrow.

Tamsin has learnt no!

We had a fine home-grown supper last night: cold roast beef (not from the allotment, clearly), new potatoes, baby carrots, basil and baby courgettes (some with flowers still attached). I felt very proud. Briefly, until I remembered The Weeds. Today, I picked (and ate before anybody else spotted it) the first ripe tomato. I only have two plants this year, after last year’s blight disaster, and am wishing for more. They look nice, tumbling over the sides of the chimneypots I acquired from freecycle.

It’s been very mundane here (hence no blogging). I had my hair cut for the first time in 6 months; we tried again with flapjack; Cameron went on a course; I did some work for the first time in a month. Are there any domestic goddesses out there? It tastes nice but never fails to collapse into crumbs. There must be a trick.

Tamsin is 20 months now, and trying to drop her nap. I remember driving miles with M at this age: with two, I just can’t do it. Nor can I sit upstairs with her for over an hour. If she doesn’t go off nicely, or we are not in the car at an appropriate time, she doesn’t get one. Which doesn’t affect her nights at all (she doesn’t sleep any better if she has it or does not: we wake every couple of hours regardless), probably a sign that she doesn’t really need it. If she has one, she doesn’t go off until 8 or 8.30 in the evening; if she doesn’t, she is grumpy from around 5* but asleep by 7.30. We are being very laid-back about it (apart from my near-unbreakable no sleep after 4 rule); she either has it or she doesn’t. We are managing about 3 a week.

*Currently raging because I put away the paddling pool.

OK so I’ve been back for a week, but I’ve been busy!

Skye was gorgeous (some photos here but don’t click unless you are keen on pretty hills and my children); weather was mixed to say the least, but we were only rained off on two days and the first was rather pleasant with games and dvds and general not-doing-much. (On the second we were Doomed: we tried to go swimming, the pool was shut; to a playground, which we couldn’t find; on a boat, too choppy…ended up driving from Broadford to Staffin for a baked potato. Lovely scenic drives and small walks between showers are fine for us but the girls were fed up. We finished in a pub playing giant connect four.)

We travelled up via Glencoe and the ferry for the sake of the romance. Week 1 we stayed in Glendale (in the fabulous missionary’s house): high points included a wonderful meal at the three chimneys (inlaws handily in a nearby B&B and could be called upon for babysitting duties), spotting a golden eagle at the Quiraing, Neist point (though we disappointingly failed to see sharks, dolphins, or anything much beyond sheep). Tamsin had a wonderful time shouting BAA! at every single sheep (there are a lot of sheep) and I enjoyed preparing very basic meals from the village shop and reading books. Maggie walked well. The roads, 2m-wide sheep-covered strips of tarmac across moors, took a little getting used to, and it never got dark. We could see the outer hebrides from our living room.

Week 2 we stayed in Breakish, near Broadford and the bridge. Failed to see otters (we will just have to go again) even though we made the trip to the hide but we visited the serpentarium and held a python. We popped onto the mainland to visit Eilean Donan and Plockton (of Hamish MacBeth fame) and to go on a boat trip. We had scenic drives, walked round Loch Coruisk in the driving rain, built sandcastles and generally pottered about. Lit the stove in the evenings as it was chilly, and ate lovely fish.

Allotment weeds are as high as my head, I have a pile of work on, and Cameron is away on a course. Back to real life.

This is from my diary from when we first relocated to Japan – pre-blog. Other entries can be found here.

It’s chilly inside today (because it isn’t sunny) but warm outside so I am having my lunch (cream cheese and banana sandwiches: who said I wouldn’t be able to get bread or cheese?!) on the patio, which is very pleasant. I can hear the crows (you can always hear the crows) and the odd passer-by, but very quiet and peaceful. I’ve spent the morning working but have nearly exhausted what they sent (I work so much quicker here. Less chat?) so will I think have a walk to Shibuya when I’ve finished eating. Back to Tokyu Hands for B-list essentials. I bought all the A-list on Tuesday but thought my hands would drop off carrying it all home- had to battle through Shinjuku too, which was not much fun. Got a local train back because I thought it might be quieter – I was right, at least I got a seat.

Didn’t do much of anything yesterday – a few hours’ work, read a bit, pottered down to the shops. Tried to buy hooks for the shower curtains without knowing the words for “hook”, “shower” or “curtain”, which was very amusing for the shopkeeper. He didn’t have any.

We move into our house on Monday! It will be nice to be in our own house (though no swimming pool and we’ll have to make the bed ourselves) – the hotel is very good but after 2 weeks we are a bit bnored.

We’ve had another busy week. Or I have, anyway: Cameon’s just been going to work! I’ve been working as well but have also been back to look at the house to make sure we definitely wanted it (was that only monday?), to a yoga class, which was much more strenuous than the classes I am used to, and out for a revolving sushi lunch with Gail, whose husband also works for Shell. (The sushi itself doesn’t revolve.) I’ve chosen a whole house-full of furniture so goodness knows what that will look like when it arrives, a jumble sale I expect. We’ve registered as aliens (!) and opened a bank account. I got very cross in teh bank when they asked Cameron if I wanted a cash card thengave it to him saying “this is for her”. Talk about a second-class citizen (and then when we went back to finalizse the furniture they were all over him and asked if it was ok that I had chosen it). Gah!

Yesterday, I went with Gail to look at the western supermarket (I dont’ think there is anything you can’t get, I checked for all the essentials. Peanut butter, ice cream, cheese, teabags) then met Cameron at his work in the evening for some welcome drinks. Phew! Today we went to Asakusa, where there is a big tempe and “kitchenware alley” – hundreds of shops selling everything you could possibly want to runa restaurant, including the plastic food they put outside! Then we went up the tokyo tower – ad Eiffel tower lookalike but a few metres taller just because they could! It was hazy so we couldn’t see all that far (we didn’t see Fuji) but it was s till a good view.

PS I’ve attached a picture of Cameron at work in his pyjama-like uniform.

And really quite excited about our holiday. Not entirely sure why (except it is a long time since I had one) and hoping very hard that this weather holds. While the rest of you have had stair-rods along with Bill-n-Kate, Cheshire has had high summer. Like we used to have when we were children: day after day of unrelenting sunshine (presumably because I have invested in a rainwater butt). Cameron, in a really dramatically underhand bid to avoid doing any packing at all, has swanned off to Houston for the week. Maggie is being super-whingy-whiney (I alternate between blaming two grandparental visits in quick succession – she often gets a bit strange afterwards – and daddy being away. Or is she a bit poorly, who knows. Or the heat. Or just four.) Tamsin is interminably teething, and we are still overrun with critters of all description.

Slugs, check. Spiders, check. Mice – now in the kitchen cupboards so b*ll*cks to being humane, I’ve been out for proper traps this morning. Blackbird flying round the morning room battering against the windows, check. Next-door’s dog coming and depositing, um, deposits on our lawn. Check. Until I put a note through her door* yesterday and now she has blocked the hole in the fence (hooray). Unfortunately while blocking it she investigated what he was barking at and found a rat in the hedge (did you say you had a compost bin because perhaps that is attracting them). Have purchased larger traps to go with the small mousey ones: intend to spend the rest of the week before we go away disposing of rodent corpses. Unceremoniously.

Today I bought new nappies. Not terribly momentous, I agree, but the old ones had been in near-constant use for 4 years and were looking a little sad. (How much money I have saved. Smug, moi?!) The tipping point came when I realised T was either holding them up with her hands or giving up and taking them off altogether – the elastic had finally given up the ghost and, now we have sunshine glorious sunshine and she is no longer in a pop-up vest, they were feeling the effects of gravity. Rainbow bots, purchased all those long years ago, are no longer in production (mine are no longer beautiful icecream colours like those in the picture but a kind of nondescript grey), so I went along to see Lizzie, my local nappy dealer. I knew one of her neighbours so we started with a bit of a gossip (Chester is like that) then I came away with two discounted discontinued end-of-line bamboozles (slim-fitting, very absorbant, take forever to dry, she says). Apparently I am alone in my love of a coloured nappy as the lovely bright yellow and purple are no longer to be manufactured (all these people who want boring white nappies have not fully considered staining, I suspect). Four fluffles (bulky but fast-drying and oh my goodness as soft as a cloud: I’d like to cuddle one if that wasn’t a bit weird. White. Nippa fastening rather than velcro, which will take a bit of getting used to), also discontinued for reasons unknown as they are enormously popular. Four state-of-the-art flexitots (mid-bulkiness; fit like a disposable ie slim round the waist baggy underneath, which is a bit peculiar but ok). They have velour inners! I’d wear one myself (if, you know, I wasn’t toilet trained. Which I am.) Some people become nappy junkies and like to try every sort; others (like me) find ones they like then just stick with them and stop looking – so no more nappy chat, maybe ever.

*A very polite note, and it is all quite amicable. We like our neighbours. Apart from her horribly yappy dogs that bark all the sodding time when she is at work (but have very cute puppies). And the other side has a horrible barky dog that scares even me never mind Maggie (Tamsin doesn’t bat an eyelid) and whose “deposits” remain on the nice new patio for an unseemly length of time, making hanging out my washing really unpleasantly smelly.