All posts tagged: Kerry Clare

We love: Little You

  Last Thursday, the Pip-Pop & I were lucky enough to meet Kerry Clare & her delightful family. We spent the day in Windsor, arriving just in time to catch changing the guard, which left Popsy screwing his eyes tight shut & saying soldiers not nice. But, aside from the soldiers, everything was very nice: wandering, chatting, eating, and whiling away three hours as if they were thirty minutes. Obviously I was excited to meet Kerry and Stuart and their daughters, but I was also excited to have the chance to eat with them. Having followed their travels online, they looked like a family who know how to find a good meal. And I was right: if you ever get the chance to eat with these guys I suggest you grab it. We had a delicious lunch in Bel & the Dragon (at the very exciting chalkboard table), followed by New Forest ice creams in the sunshine. And the nicest thing of all was how very normal it felt to be hanging out with them. We also …

After Birth

“A baby opens you up, is the problem. No way around it unless you want to pay someone else to have it for you. There’s before and there’s after. To live in your body before is one thing. To live in your body after is another. Some deal by attempting to micromanage; some go crazy; some zone right the hell on out. A blessed few resist any of these, and when you meet her, you’ll know her immediately by the look in her eyes: weary, humbled, wobbly but still standing. Present, if faintly. You don’t meet her often.” If you saw my copy of Elisa Albert’s fierce & funny After Birth you’d see that it’s sprouted little florescent pink tags out of nearly every page: time after time when I thought, yes, that! that’s how it felt, that’s how it was. Because Albert is great at capturing the stripped-down rawness of new motherhood, the visceral, physical, all-consumingness; the relentlessness and exhaustion and isolation. And with uncompromising honesty, she captures a place and time where many …

Light Lifting & other thoughts

It’s taking a moment to steady myself for the start of another week. The house is quiet. Popsy is napping; the older two are at school. It’s been a weekend of strange on/off fevers, long days, boredom. Hours of looking at campsites on the internet for the summer. Of wondering why everything has to take so long to decide/organise/plan. Last week Popsy had the fever & woke two evenings in a row; or rather didn’t wake, but just screamed inconsolably in my arms until I woke him. The first evening, when I’d calmed him down enough for him to speak, he told me that he had a tummy ache & we lay together on my bed as I rubbed his stomach. In the morning, when I asked him how he was he said, as he always says, ‘Fine. I have my milk now?’ I asked if he remembered the tummy ache & he said, ‘Yes, tummy ache in my ear.’ Ah, yes, a tummy ache in the ear. Which made far more sense. Today, at …

After the party

And so she is seven. It’s been a weekend of glorious weather: one day for parties; one for gardening. Twelve growing girls, and our own two small boys, ran wild in the back garden yesterday. Peg dolls were made, hula-hoops twirled, ice-cream eaten. Later, B & I went to a party of our own, and drank, and talked to friends, and stayed out in a magical garden until long after dusk had turned to darkness. And today, I planted out the sweet peas, some mange-tout, and a verbena bonariensis, watched and chatted to by the older of the small boys, while his little brother sat in the sandpit (eating sand as it turned out), and his sister devoured Ramona books one after another on the garden bench. The first vivid purple alliums are out, and the aquilegias, dusky pinks and purples, are nodding their bonnets. But now the partying is over. And I’m planning an early bath and an evening with a long awaited book.