Every girl deserves a bit of luxury in her life, right? Something soft to wrap around herself as she settles down for an evening of wine and admiring Pacey Witter’s finest attributes on Dawson’s Creek (Yes, I am watching Dawson’s Creek. Shut up).
Everyone wants something soft to snuggle up with that doesn’t hog the remote, laugh at your choice of viewing pleasure or get the hump when you find yourself murmuring ‘Oh, Pacey’ out loud for the 5th time in the episode.
If that sounds like something you’d enjoy – it doesn’t have to be used to Watch Dawson’s Creek, I suspect it is just as delightfully smooth and silky to watch Great British Bake Off in or cover your eyes from the weeping angels in Dr Who with – then the Soak and Sleep Luxury Mulberry Silk Throw could very possibly be your perfect viewing companion.
I don’t think the above picture really captures just how deliciously stroke-able this throw is. Here, you can see it better on this one…
Not only is it the perfect size for one (140 x 200 cm – it could cover a single bed) and softer and smoother than the fur of baby unicorn; it’s warm, enveloping and won’t try to steal your wine. I suspect it also would also make a great outdoor evening drinking companion, would help you feel better when ill and would be in its element on a camping trip or a plane journey.
And it has very cute tassels.
The perfect date, really.
The Soak and Sleep Luxury Mulberry Silk throw comes in a range of colours and costs £46 from the fab Soak and Sleep website. I’m eyeing up one of their pillows to go with it.
Sadly this post is much more about why I shall be going out to buy myself a sleek, shiny new fridge for my lovely kitchen this week and in the mean time eating mostly dried products and take-aways than it is a reference to one of my favourite crochet blogs.
I went away last week – being freshly single and without child for a few weeks whilst my little hooligans were off terrorising Lapland for a while it seemed a great time to begger off and enjoy some sunshine. I went off to Gran Canaria once again – this time to stay with my hilarious friend and awesome drinking partner, Sarah from Losing My Lemons.
Well, what’s the point of having friends in warmer climes if you can’t take advantage of them?
Mush drunken fun was had, sun soaked up (not that you can tell from looking at me – I am still as pale as pale can be) seafood eaten and whilst I was sad to be leaving I was looking forward to getting home. Home being where the heart is and all.
And nice it was. My lovely kitty welcomed me back in a very uncat-like manner by draping himself around my neck and purring, refusing to move for a good half hour, and even the dog was pleased to see me. Ah home, I thought, happily surveying my little semi detached house and all it’s nick-knacks. It is good to be back.
And I carried on thinking that right up until the point where I opened the fridge to check what needed buying and what had gone off and found the worlds largest, slimiest slug slithering indolently up the the inside of the door, smug in its glistening, glutenous state.
Of my fridge.
The place where I keep the things that I willingly put in my mouth.
Sweet mother of Joseph, I do not even want to think how it got in there or how long it’d been there for. In fact I don’t want to think about it at all. Or food.
This might be the best diet ever.
This is not a spoof. It’s an actual real thing.
Never mind the lack of jobs; the soaring costs of fuel, food and well, everything; to hell with the ludicrous bedroom tax and the hundreds of disabled and poverty stricken people committing suicide after horrific and frankly quite evil cuts. Hang the fracking that threatens to destroy vast swathes of the UK, public forests being sold off for profit that will profit nobody that lives near them and a school system that is being systematically destroyed by people with no actual teaching experience who think they know better than those that have been teaching and nurturing young minds for years.
Never mind the way the country is being run by a bunch of elitist, self serving, condescending cretins whose only interest is in keeping the perpetual circulation of money moving between them and their old school chums.
Let’s get to the heart of the real issues that affect the working classes: beer and bingo. Cause that’s the sort of thing ‘they’ like, isn’t it?
What next, free flat caps and copies of The Sun newspaper for all?
It’s the political version of being petted on the head and told not to bother my poor little girly head with trying understand some big, complex thing that only a man can truly fathom. And it makes me burn with the very same ball of incandescent rage.
“Mummy, were there vikings around when you were a little girl?”
I think I’ve just had a change of favourite child.
One of my main reasons for taking the kids out of school was that I was watching their personalities disappear. Who they were was slowly being erroded by the need to fit in, conform and blend.
My son had stopped talking. Not entirely, he hadn’t become a mute, but he rarely had anything to say for himself, comunicated often in grunts and one word answers or said what ever he thought would lead you to leaving him alone the fastest. He had lost his confidence in being able to explain himself, or rather his confidence in holding anyones attention long enough to get the muddle of words out of his head and make the listener understand what he wanted to say. We didn’t talk. I asked questions and tried to decipher his grunts, shrugs and mumbles.
My daughter had lost herself entirely. My wild, strong willed, independent ball of excited, creative fun had tried so hard to fit in and please, to make teachers and pupils alike love her, that she had managed to render herself almost entirely invisible. She frequently found herself left out at playtime, not chosen for things in the classroom and completely bewildered and saddened as to why.
And neither of them had any interest in the world. They had stopped asking questions about how and why things worked and happened. Had no interest in anything outside school except tv and computer games. My son even stopped wanting to go and play at friends houses. He just wanted to stay home and sit in front of his xbox. At least there he had control, there he could make characters do what he wanted, there was no miscommunication and confusion. And my beautifully big-hearted daughter wanted to just disappear into the fantasy of feel good schmaltzy films where being nice and friendly were positive traits that made everyone love you in the end.
A couple of months into home ed and my God the changes are astounding. For a start their curiosity about the world around them is overwhelming. From not giving a rats ass about the world we now can’t walk to the shop or drive down the street without a barrage of questions and statements to test their understanding of things. From how street names work, speed limits and advertising boards to where wool comes from, what is a government and how laws are made. They both chatter incessantly at me and to each other, questioning and working things out.
And they play, they relish the outdoors and actively want to go places, meet up with friends and sit together reading, crafting or learning. Maths text books are an exciting challenge, board games are tremendous fun and cards, dice and marbles a great source of entertainment.
Of course they both still want to disappear into their xbox games or films but they are becoming much more of a source of entertainment rather than a place to hide and seek solace. The great big world out there is becoming their playground and the smiles and laughter go from morning to night.