Family Archive

Unconditional love

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April 13, 2013Letters to LaurenNo comments

We love you. We love you more and more each day. You love us. You tell us more and more each day. You tell us your love is “Up to the ceiling, down to the floor, round the world and lots, lots more.” That’s how much my Mum loves me – it was the same amount my Nan, my Dad’s mum loved me. It was the way I expressed my love to your Mum on our wedding day. It’s our family thing. And now our family has grown. We now have a son; you have a brother. We love your brother very much. Without him, we were still a very happy family. With him, we are now a very happy family with two wonderful children.

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  Intro: This is not a food blog. Until a week ago I wasn’t quite sure what this blog was about; that was until I decided to focus on all things family. Therefore, a review of a restaurant under the subject heading “Kid’s Meal” is not just about the quality of food enjoyed by the parents, but the overall experience of a visit for the family – especially our children. Any actual comment on food will be done from a general, rather than specific food blogging perspective. We booked our table at Salvo’s on Friday lunchtime for that evening’s dinner session. We tend to book for 5.30pm so that we can miss the post-work rush – whilst also avoiding any minor tired/hunger related tantrums likely

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  There’s a game we play at home. Or at least I think it’s a game. I may also need to consider whether “we” play it at all? Bin Buckaroo takes its name from the now, no doubt redundant game from my youth – Buckaroo. If you are not familiar with Buckaroo, it was a coiled, plastic horse that you had to place items of a cowboy’s pack on to; before it sprung in to life. Much like Mr Pop, another game lost to technology and online participation, the element of fun came from the panic induced, surprise “explosion” of toy and associated parts. Eyes were nearly lost to the game; actual parts more so. The loser was the last person in contact before it

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It’s the liquid. The amount of liquid involved, that flows out, that covers the space, that shocks you, me; the most. Forget tidal waves of emotions – this was a tidal wave of a birth. Delivering your own child is a strange, never to be matched experience. The experience is further heighted when you, sometime after, try to piece it all back together again. There are the obvious whys – as in, why were we there? Why did it happen that way? Then there are the hows – how did someone not respond in time? How did we ever get through that together? We got through it with help. With a reassuring voice on the end of the phone; from a midwife trained to deal

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I’m not really sure why I am here any more. Once upon a time, as Lauren’s stories might begin, I started this blog to fill the space between the words I was being asked to write – and the ones I wanted to find time to write. That position has somewhat changed now. People aren’t exactly knocking down my door with commissions these days. There has also been a massive change of focus at work. No longer am I frustratingly writing in an attempt to add more creativity; more control to my life. I get that at work – with the ability to write, business writing, but it is still the skill of using words to convince. So why am I still here? Well, because of

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I have hands. Such a statement may seem unremarkable to those of you who also have hands – but my hands are different. My hands are magic. I first discovered their magical properties when Lauren was struggling with constipation. “Can I hold your hands” she would say; as the pressure built up ahead of the on rush of poo. It worked. She went. My hands were then called in to action, many times over, as my poor daughter despaired with each visit to the pan. The magic hands would spring in to action – a delicate grip would ease the situation. In the end I just made sure I was always there for her. If only she knew the trick was to drink caffeine or

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I’ve just finished a simple meal of Suppli, Crocchette and Arancini – breaded balls of different shape, size and filling – accompanied by courgette chips and a glass of Frascati. It’s the sort of meal that is crying out for a gelato (ice cream) to top it off. But after today – I’m not sure I can face the potential argument. An argument as stupid as the craft or keg debate applied to beer. As in, is ice cream really ice cream if it doesn’t come in a cone? As a late afternoon treat I took the family to Fior di Luna in Trastevere. It’s another location on the much recommended Parla Food trail. I had a tub of Nocciola and Stracciatella. It is no

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Beware the Ides of March, they say. Beware, what though? Mum may be coming over for dinner; there’s a good chance Lauren will be overly tired – work is, well, work. But as I look out of the window at a glorious, sun filled blue sky – I do wonder, what is there to be wary of? Et tu Brute? Life can feel like that at time. As though it is the things you rely on – your skill, your judgement – that are the first and last to ram that dagger home; but not today – not on this Ides, or 15th of March. So here’s to my namesake, Julius. Who fell on this day, well, this day in the ancient Roman calendar. I

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I stand in front of you I’ll take the force of the blow Protection Something a father should always offer his children. Something I would like to think I offer to my wife; your mum. Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much protection those around us really need. I can mollycoddle you to the point where you will push me away. I can be overly protective of your mum to the point where people would accuse me of trying to lord over her – not letting her be her own person. That’s a lie, in so much as your mum would quite frankly ignore me if I was being overly protective, but you’ll understand the reasoning at some point. Then there are times when you

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Self Portrait – January 2012 The hair is at least three weeks too long. The stubble is much the same – but in terms of days rather than weeks. Even the eyebrows haven’t been looked at for a month at least. Grooming has clearly taken a back seat at this hectic time of year. The neck and jowls suggest a good time has been had; consumed. The facial expression is exaggerated. I tried to smile. I tried to look upbeat. I tried to catch Simon Blake off guard – but it just looked so false; unnatural if you will. But look at the eyes. The eyes are clear, crisp, sharp. They are the eyes of someone who has started the New Year fresh – no

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