There’s something special about taking part in a craft group, whatever kind of craft you do, due largely to the return to the female space that it offers. This is something that is so hard to come by in our modern life. Except for baby or toddler groups (where the topic of conversation tends to be limited to the one, rather narrow, subject of children) we don’t often get the chance to spend time working together with other women in a way that would have been the day-to-day norm for our forbears. Whether poverty stricken field workers doing the laundry and spinning together, or upper class ladies all sewing on their samplers, we would have occupied this same, busy, feminine space where we could just ‘be’ and work together. Much like those heart-to-hearts parents and children find so much easier in the car; removing the sense of observation and confrontation makes it easier to be open.
Both The Boy and I were humming a merry tune as we went about our various business this morning. The culprit was, as it usually is in this house (especially since we banned TV and all its associated irritating ear-wormy theme tunes), a Nick Cope tune – Another Day For Me.
The main theme of this catchy little tune is based around the multitude of cups of tea drunk by the singer during the day (Nick, if you’re reading this – think you might have a problem mate). The Boy particularly likes the line about having to go to the toilet “because of all the cups of tea”*. I find a rather deeper meaning in it and want to give the author the benefit of the doubt and assume that, despite also having written songs about the baby having done a poo and a nose in the middle of his face, Cope is not completely unaware of the subtext present in his music, albeit more evident to the parents of his target audience than the children themselves. Depending on your point of view it can be seen as a reflection of the mundanity of everyday life. As a (currently) stay at home mum of two, consumed by laundry, cooking and tidying, it certainly reflects the reality of my day to day life. I find myself humming the perky little hook “it’s just another day for me” as I peg out nappies, sweep up crumbs, wipe up baby sick, make another meal…
More than once I have asserted that Oxfordshire is, in fact, murder central of the UK.
You wouldn’t think it to look at us. Everywhere you go there’s chocolate box houses, cutesy market towns, even our ‘capital’ is known as the town of the dreaming spires, yet many of its most famous vistas have played their part as a backdrop to the most gruesome crimes.
No! Wait! Don’t call the police yet. I’m talking fictional crime here. You might think London had it sewn up, or maybe Glasgow with it’s grim urban outlook, but actually the rolling hills of the home counties seem to inspire authors and TV producers to think about gory ways to kill off their characters. From Morse to Midsomer we’re surrounded by easily recognisable landscapes.