Have you ever been that organised or have you never thought of booking your holiday early?  Do you usually look at the last minute in the hope of a good deal?  Haven Holidays asked me to write a guest blog on why I like to book early and you can read more about why I think it’s the best option on their blog – http://www.havenholidayspr.com

Where are you off to this year?

Happy New Year everone!

I want to finish the blog about the Monster’s journey through the autism diagnosis process and then update the blog with how he’s getting on at school (how does a child jump on the sink taps..?)  I want to laugh about how much the Minx loves her big brother and copies everything he does – not perhaps the best role model in many instances.  Have you ever pushed a trolley round Asda with two kids sat side by side, shaking their heads, rolling their eyes and shouting, “Aaaahhhh?”  I have.

I want to chart how I’m getting on with learning Gaelic (I’m getting there but it’s definitely been a steep learning curve) but it takes so much of my week to actually do the learning that I can’t get time to write about it, and as I approach the final term of the entry course the workload is only going to get heavier.  Add to that that I’ve now started to make my own jewellery and sell some bits & pieces, and, well, you may begin to understand why I’m still awake at 1am in the morning.  (As a wee aside, I set up a Facebook page for my jewellery at www.facebook.com/willowalexanderdesigns and I’d really appreciate it if you’d have a wee look.  I’d appreciate it even more if you bought something, as would my children because I may then be able to feed them more than beans on toast for dinner, but that’s another story.)

I miss blogging.  I miss taking the time to get my thoughts down in writing.  I miss the community of friends I felt I was building up.  I want to keep up with The Crumby Mummy, Three Years One Stone & Then Home, Tea & Biscotti, mother.wife.me and many more, and I’m sad that I can’t do that as effectively as I’d like, though I read the emailed blogs when I get a chance.  January is swinging round and I’d love to say that the fresh start feeling that always follows Hogmanay will prompt me to write more regularly but I think I’ll be setting myself up for more guilt.  Am I alone in this or have you ever had to put blogging on the back burner?  For just now though, I’ll just have to keep plodding my way through my busy schedule and content myself with being a mental blogger for the time being until normal service can resume.

It is their latest series of adverts, however, that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Having built up Gio Compario over the years they seem determined now to knock him down from the pedestal that they put him on.  If I caught my children putting someone down, as Go Compare now seem intent on doing, I’d be very disappointed, and I feel no less disappointed in Go Compare for feeling the need to be so cruel.   Watching the adverts feels very like being a party to bullying and I don’t like it.

I appreciate that in the grand scheme of things this is a trivial matter and I’m sure we’ll all move on to the next big thing in the world of advertising in a few weeks, but until then I hope I don’t come across too many more of these adverts.

For example, my list of things I don’t tell my friends but probably should would include:

1. Life as a stay-at-home-mum does not revolve around day time tv.  Not unless you count CBeebies.
2. Most Some days I don’t have the energy to provide live entertainment from dawn till dusk.  Some days I consider it perfectly acceptable to let them watch that DVD.  Again.
3. The babble of children’s voices can be akin to the sound of nails being dragged down a blackboard in certain contexts – contexts which arise daily. Sometimes I wish my children had a mute button.
4. A trip to the supermarket sans enfant counts as a night out.
5. 11 pm is either way past my bed time or the only time of the day I get to myself.  Do not disturb.
6. I am still an adult though, and do still want you to invite me to join you on nights out.  I may just get very tired very quickly.
7. I can feel starved of real adult conversation and so will latch on to you when out and probably babble incoherently about the little darlings’ latest achievements/misdemeanours.  You should also be careful because…
8. Birth stories are permanently etched in my brain to be shared at the drop of a hat – and yes, it is painful.  And there is blood. (Why did no one tell me about lochia until last minute!?).  Just smile and nod.
9. If I’m wearing matching underwear it is a coincidence, not forward planning or a signal of amorous intent.
10. There is no amorous intent.
11. Though once a proud member of the debating society, my daily coversations now generally include any/all of the following phrases (and ones like it):  “Have you done a poo poo?”  ”Bottom in the air so I can wipe it.”   “Those brussel sprouts do taste like sausages.”  “Will you please pull up your pants and stop flapping your willy about?”  (That’s not always aimed at your son…)
12. Though I’m an adult and understand that it’s not my fault, being called to the head teacher’s office about my child feels just as bad as being called there as a child.
13. I work hard to make my children look cute, presentable and angelic in your presence.  Normally they are screaming banshees.
14. I no longer dream of Brad Pitt/Johnny Depp/Whoever is the current celeb of choice (I don’t know – I have no time to stay current).  No, now it is Mr Bloom – the housewives’ favourite.
15. I bought the latest smartphone so that I can fill it with apps to make life easier – ie kiddie games apps in the hopes that I might get 5 mins peace when I go out.
16. Playdough is really annoying when it gets onto the carpet – which is almost guaranteed to happen.
17. Teddies are pointless.  Do not give me one as a gift.  They look cute and it’s an easy choice but I quickly end up drowning in a sea of them and the children prefer to cuddle the same stinky toy in bed anyway.
18. I love to see you but please do not invite me to your house unless you have hidden your precious things away because I will be unable to relax the whole time.
19. Please don’t phone me because my children clearly see the phone ringing as a signal to break into World War Umpteen.  They will also demand to speak to you on the phone.  Texting me means I can wait for a (slightly) quieter time to respond.
20. The best time of day is when I get to watch them sleeping, so peacefully.  It’s hard to get my head round how I managed to make such wonderful little people.  It really is a miracle every day.

What would be on your list?

The Slummy Mummy, 31, is a bit of a Jack-of-all-trades – like many stay-at-home-mums.  In the days before delving knee deep into nappy pails and persuading children that brussel sprouts really do taste of sausages she had a law degree and was a primary school teacher, and at nights she moonlights as a Weight Watchers leader in Glasgow.  She lives with her husband, 36 – a dealer (yes, really.  Apparently it’s something financial but the mummy fuzzy brain has filtered out the details), and her two children, The Monster, 5, and The Minx, 2.

My mornings follow the same routine of being woken by the far-too-alert-for-first-thing-in-the-morning babble of my two year old daughter.  It is invariably at this point that my “other half” slinks off to the shower whilst I try to pretend that I can sleep with someone bouncing on my head.  I forgo all personal grooming for those extra few minutes in bed, except if it’s the week of the year in which I’ve had my hair cut when the novelty of shiny, bouncy hair inspires me to spend an extra minute brushing it.  Spending the day with children can get a little messy so I usually spend a good few minutes looking at both the washing and the ironing pile wondering which of the items is least creased and passably clean thereby allowing me to skip the ironing stage.  My trademark look of jeans and stained, crumpled t-shirt is often remarked upon.  As a Weight Watchers leader I appreciate the importance of a filling and healthy breakfast to start the day, but after forcing nutrition upon my children, it is straight on to packed lunch preparation - a lunch which must pass muster with the school’s healthy eating plan - in time for the Monster’s taxi arriving to pick him up for school.

When I tell people that I’m a stay-at-home-mum, or SAHM to use the cool kids lingo, I’m immediately eyed with envy.  Notions of a day filled with Jeremy Kyle, Home & Away and long, leisurely lunches with friends flit through their mind, however the reality is often a little less glamorous.  As the taxi pulls off at 8.20am, the Minx immediately clamours for lunch and so begins a day of trying to ensure that she gets a healthy, balanced diet.  After shoving all of the lego/dolly/play food detritus already spread across the floor back into the playroom, we sing along with the CBeebies theme tunes and I field challenging questions such as, “Me see Mr Bloom?”  “Wee wee toilet?” and the ever popular, “daddy home soon?”

At 9.15am I shepherd the Minx out to the car and set off to either playgroup or mothers and toddlers.  This requires guerrilla parking, accepting the compliments on my chosen attire from the Yummy Mummies and then, on playgroup days, peeling the Minx from my legs in an attempt to get out the door before the emotional blackmail begins.  Mothers and toddlers sessions on the other hand are a serious exercise in multi tasking.  I am required to juggle providing entertainment, talking about my children and their birth stories again something grown up, ensuring that the Minx doesn’t kill any of the babies with cuddles and shares her snack, and keeping hot drinks out of reach.  It is at this point that I eat my first meal of the day, a chocolate biscuit or two if I’m lucky.  I must keep myself in business after all.

After a round of “The Wheels on the Bus,” “Miss Polly had a Dolly,” and “Twinkle Twinkle,” we head home for lunch.  I try to offer a variety of meals each week ranging from omelette, boiled egg in a cup, and scrambled eggs, to the giddy culinary heights of a jam & peanut butter sandwich, in line with my ability to burn water.  If I’ve had a few days notice in order to buy in better catering and clear my paperwork from the couch, I may invite another happy mother-of-two over for lunch and allow all the children to pour ten boxes of toys all over the floor.  If I’m fortunate, the Minx will agree to go for a nap at this point.  With the channel 5 matinee movie on in the background this is my golden opportunity to crunch some numbers for head office and to grab a bowl of Heinz cream of tomato soup for lunch.  I wisely invested in some Le Creuset bowls with lids from TK Maxx when the Monster was a baby.  These help when you are inevitably called to wipe a bottom or give the rest of the teddies a kiss mid meal.

As the Minx falls into a deep sleep at 2.30pm, the taxi to collect the Monster pulls up and I must rouse my daughter.  This often involves ten minutes of uncontrollable screaming but with trusty chocolate weapons to hand this crisis can sometimes be diverted.  On arrival at the school there may be an unscheduled meeting about the Monster’s monsterishness with the depute head teacher and then begins an afternoon of negotiations between me and the Monster.  Treats abound when the Monster is (pretty much never) still “on green.”  More often than not he is “on yellow or red.”  He was, on one memorable occasion, “on black.”

The rest of the afternoon is taken up with lego machine building, dolly feeding, Ratatouille watching, and squeezing in internet browsing on my laptop rather than my phone before my husband comes home and we swap, allowing me to head out to work for a break.  Two hours of adult interaction fly past in a blur before I come home at 9pm, hopefully, to the children already in bed and my dinner reheating on the hob.  We spend an hour reconciling what I’ve been told has happened in my meeting with what the paperwork and stock show has really taken place before vegging on the couch with bags of Percy Pigs, tins of condensed milk and a glossy American drama.  Around 11 or 12pm I usually drift off to sleep on the couch before dragging myself up to bed when I startle myself awake in the wee small hours in order to be awake and refreshed first thing the following morning.

PLAN B: A RICH PERSON

When I was younger I harboured dreams first of being a lawyer.  I got the law degree but then decided I was better suited to being a primary school teacher so I retrained.  However, though I am obviously looking forward to returning to work in 3.5years at the end of my career break, I now feel that a more realistic career path is to become filthy, stinking rich with a EuroMillions lottery win, allowing me to hire a nanny.  Really, this should just have been my first career option.  I get the feeling that life would have been much less messy.

Having successfully got pregnant twice, you’d think that everything would be plain sailing.  I still remember suggesting to my husband that we try for our first.  I’d glanced at a pregnancy book in the book shop (so was obviously an expert) and had a rough idea that I might be ovulating when I ”casually” threw the idea out there one night, but it was a case of one chance and then we would have to wait for next month, so I really didn’t expect much that first month.   It was a really stressful time – we were between houses and I had a “challenging” class to teach and getting pregnant was the last thing on my mind.

I can remember having a light flush of blood a little before I thought I was due but I thought nothing of it – I just expected my period to start properly in a day or so.  A couple of days later I was driving to work and suddenly felt really dizzy and nauseous.  I got really panicked about being dizzy whilst driving which, of course, made me worse and by the time I got to work the Headteacher insisted on driving me home and made me make an appointment to see the doctor.  I duly traipsed along for my appointment where the locum doctor asked if I could be pregnant.  I remember saying no then correcting myself.  I could be pregnant but there had been that light bleed and I felt crampy – like my period was due any moment.  She tested me anyway and it came back negative.  We put it down to stress.  This was a week before Christmas and on Boxing Day I realised my period still hadn’t come so did another test and this time it was positive.  We were so excited!  Clearly a super fertile couple, we’d got pregnant on our first attempt – fabulous, though I was a little disappointed that I’d missed out on all the extra “practice” tries…

When the time came to get pregnant again we were cocky.  We were experts at this so getting pregnant would be no bother.  Sadly, this time that wasn’t the case.  For the first few months I’d thought my luck was in only to be cruelly disappointed when my period did eventually come.  I started to research anything conception related I could think of on the internet and was soon taking such a concoction of vitamins every day that I’m surprised I didn’t rattle as I walked.  Vitamin B50 from Holland & Barretts, vitamin C, zinc, agnus castus for one half of the month, and evening primrose oil for the other as well as the mandatory folic acid tablets and probably others I’ve forgotten.

I started to blame my lack of fertility on anything and everything.  I was back at a healthy weight but thought maybe I’d benefit from losing more so I lost another 10lb.  Then, when that brought no success, I thought maybe dieting was the problem so I stopped losing.  I ordered ovulation sticks over the internet – 30 green sticks that I could wee on whenever I liked to see if that elusive egg was going to make an appearance.  If they were to be believed, I never ovulated.  I had hormone tests done, I bought a basal thermometer and started to keep a BBT chart every morning, I checked my cervical mucus (sorry, TMI) at every trip to the loo.  I obsessed over every tiny twinge my body made: my head hurt – was it hormones!? Was that tummy cramp a sign!?  Did my boobs twinge?  Were they any bigger?  Was I weeing more often and I was definitely yawning more – surely this month would be my month!  Was that really heavy enough to be my period or could it be a slightly heavier implantation bleed….?!  And if I thought we’d missed out on the “practice” the first time around, we were certainly making up for it now.

In the end, it was the month I stopped taking all the pills I got pregnant.  It was the month when I had NO “symptoms” or discomfort that I got pregnant.  It had taken 10 months – not long compared to many but I’d had friends get pregnant and give birth before I’d managed to even conceive.  To me, it was a lifetime.

Having decided that we both wanted a third I had no idea how this time would work out but I did want to be more relaxed about it.  We decided to wait another two months so that the baby wouldn’t be due around Christmas (too poor) or in February when it would be the youngest in its year.  The time came to try and try we did.  I was so sure everything was going well – I was on holiday, it felt just like it had with the Monster so I took 2 tests whilst on holiday but nothing.  Then all the symptoms stopped – was this a bad sign or was this just like that symptomless time with the Minx!?  In the end, I peed in a pot to do my next test only to discover that my period had arrived.  A hard blow but it was only our first month.

Another two months have passed and the two week wait from when I think I’ve ovulated to when I think my period may be due (I’m not very regular) is hell.  I’m back to counting down the days and obsessing over every twinge.  My boobs tingled last night – could my luck be in…!  Then I awoke this morning with terrible trapped wind and stomach cramps.  I have been doubled over at points and have gone back to frantically Googling symptoms.  I’ve had a brownish streak but still no period and, though it feels like I really can’t be pregnant and I know time will show that, I can’t stop hoping that this could still be the month.

Why do we do this to ourselves?  I know there’s very little I can do to swing the outcome one way or the other and yet I still feel like a failure.  I’m just one step away from ordering a new thermometer and it’s only been 3.5months, but I just don’t want it to take 10 months – or even longer – like last time.  The friends who may have helped persuade my husband are due their third at Christmas.  Her bump is growing, she is glowing and, as pleased as I am for her, I am so jealous.  When will it be me?

In the end both costumes were incredibly simple and cheap to make.  It was a nuisance that my sewing machine is broken so I had to hand stitch everything but it was all done in a weekend – and as I couldn’t get time to just sit and make it it would probably have been even faster.

For those who are looking for something fun to make for their children, here’s how I made the Fred Flintstone costume.  This fitted my son, who is 5 next month.  The Wilma Flintstone costume will follow.

Fred Flintstone

You will need:

• 1 orange towel (I used a £4.99 bath towel from Ikea – not a bath sheet.)
• A small amount of black material (I used an old top of mum’s that she doesn’t need now she’s lost 6 stone)
• Enough blue material to make a fat, ragged tie (You can use any material you want but I was keeping costs down recycling so I took a blue top and removed the top part (from the armpits up) which left me with a circle of material.  I then cut one of the sides so I had one long blue stretch of material.)
• 1 small cushion (mine was a cheap one from Ikea – less than £1 I think).
• Velcro (optional – if using, get the sew on version!)
• Fabric glue
• Interfacing/card
• thread & needles
• Iron on hemming stuff

Method

• Fold the towel in half and cut a neck hole along the fold.  Make it round at the back and v neck at the front.
• Pin it to your child (carefully – they don’t like it when you scratch them with the pins…) making it loose at the front because you’re going to put a cushion there later.  Then remove it and stick up the sides where you pinned it.  Leave plenty of space at the arms – this costumes works well baggy and that makes it easier to put on and remove.  Trim off the extra material.
• Trim any extra material at the shoulders – the costume doesn’t really have sleeves though I left them a bit longer for extra coverage.  Hem them because the towel will fray like mad.
• Cut big triangles out of the bottom to make it all zig zagged and hem them – I was sick of hand stitching towel by this time so I used the iron on hemming which was great and much faster.
• Cut rough right angled triangles out of the black material – make them quite big and with slightly rounded corners.  Stick these randomly to the costume with fabric glue.
• Make a blue neck tie.   Roll the blue material up and tie it like a regular tie, making sure you leave plenty at the front.  Keep the knot quite large and position it at the bottom of the v neck with the neck of the tie fitting right round the rest of the neck hole.
• Stitch the tie round the neck hole – this not only keeps it in place so your child won’t fidget and remove it, it stops the towel from fraying.
• Make sure your material is doubled over for the tie because you’re going to put card/interfacing inside for strength and then seal it up.
• Copying an image of Fred Flintstone’s tie, cut it into a wide tie with a couple of notches removed.   I added some interfacing I had at the bottom of my box to make it a bit stiffer but you could just as easily cut up a cereal packed and put the card inside your tie shape for strength.  Either use the iron on hemming to seal it all together or stitch your tie up.
• Add a cushion to the inside to make a big tummy.  I velcroed mine in so I could remove it if it got too awkward for him after the parade but in the end I wish I’d just stitched it in place because I didn’t need to take it out.  If you DO use velcro, use sew in stuff, not stick on velcro because it doesn’t stay in place well enough and is a nightmare to then stitch in place because the glue messes up the needle.
• Use face paints/bronzer to make stubble, and spike their hair up – I used hairspray.

If you make it, I hope you win – and do let me know!

I loved our tourer caravans.  I have so many memories of running across to the toilet and shower blocks morning and night, and (when there were more dishes than our wee sink could deal with), we would go over to the communal sinks to do the dishes there.  Seats by day, our beds were flipped over and bunk beds would appear.  I also remember that, unless it was a dire emergency the caravan toilet was ONLY for wee.  I never understood that till I helped dad pack up the caravan one day…

Sadly, we don’t have our own touring caravan – our wee Corsa really wouldn’t be up to the job – but that just gives me the perfect excuse to stay in a static caravan. Growing up, static vans were the height of luxury, though I always felt really sorry for the owners because they couldn’t go to lots of different places like I could. I definitely felt that tourers had the best deal.

Now that the Monster is starting school and the Minx is two, I felt it was the perfect time to introduce them to the wonders of a Haven caravan park and we chose an old family favourite – Blue Dolphin  in Filey, Yorkshire - to get them started.  We booked a year ago and have been eagerly anticipating it for months.  My only concern was… would it live up to expectations?

We arrived at Blue Dolphin on the last Friday in June.  Pulling up at the site was great and the kids were so excited.  The checking in staff, though, left a lot to be desired.  Minimal eye contact was made and it took a while to even get someone to deal with me.  However, we were eventually checked in and directed to a caravan which, on the map, looked almost as far away as it could be.  We were assured though that this was not a huge site so it wasn’t as far away as it looked – and I must agree that it was only a few minutes walk from the complex once we’d got settled in and had a chance to explore.

The caravan was great!  We had booked Deluxe but it felt like an even higher grade.  We had a full size freestanding fridge freezer, central heating throughout, and a DVD player – bonus!  Once the children had claimed their bedrooms and we had pushed the Minx’s beds together so that she wouldn’t roll out in the night, we went off to the Mash & Barrel for dinner.

We were really impressed with the Mash & Barrel. The food was good value for money and very tasty – we ate there several times throughout our fortnight break and as a family on a tight budget that’s quite impressive.  After a quick change into our “night time finest” we went along to the club for our evening entertainment.  I can’t remember much from that first night except that finding a table was challenging and we eventually had to share with someone else.  The children ran and danced for an hour or so then we headed off to find a Tesco to stock up the cupboard with some essential supplies.

We duly attended the welcome meeting the following morning, discovered we were in Bradley Bear’s team, joined in B Fit with Rory and got the Monster signed up for swimming lessons at 9am every morning except Mondays and Fridays.  It was looking good.  The Monster even joined in the Club R&B arts and crafts activities, making a wee notebook with Funstar Shelldan.  I was so happy to see that the Monster drew Rory the Tiger on the front of his book – he never draws anything except flowers and himself so Rory must really have captured his attention that morning.  We used his wee book as both a diary of our holiday and a place to get the Zoo Troop (the characters) and the FunStars (the entertainers) autographs.  The Minx made a wee windmill in Little Cubs with her daddy.

The following night was the first of four Polly’s Fancy Dress Parties.  I knew that there would be fancy dress so had come prepared but it’s not made very clear in the Haven literature so many of the children had no costumes.  Still, from the children who DID have costumes it was the Monster and the Minx who impressed them most as Fred & Wilma Flintstone so they got to go on stage with Polly and FunStar Kris to get their certificates, though the Minx got stage fright and almost dived off the stage in her eagerness to be back with me.

Over the course of a fortnight we explored York, Scarborough, Filey, Whitby, Bridlington and even Leeds in the pouring rain.  We have made our own sticks of rock, paddled in the sea, sailed in pirates ships, ducked into sweety shops to avoid thunder and lightening, watched bees making honey, played on a farm park, ate fish & chips from the award winning takeaway in Whitby whilst walking by the harbour… all this and so much more.  The Monster’s favourite place was the railway museum in York which he went to with his dad whilst I went to the Chocolate Experience and the Fudge Kitchen with the Minx.  A very tasty afternoon.  There’s so much to do in Yorkshire that we’ve really only just explored the tip of the iceberg.

And yet, with all these day trips we still had time to play with the FunStars in the club with Club R&B and Little Cubs.  The Monster has made a whole variety of crafty items, learned to spin plates and throw balls about juggle.  We have been on Wildlife Detectives walks in the mud and rain – the Monster jumped into a puddle right up and over his ankles – and made fossils with feathers and leaves.  We had such a fabulous time in the kids clubs and, even more special, the FunStars thought that the Monster had been such a great member that they awarded him the Club R&B member of the week!  He won another certificate and they gave him a picture of Bradley Bear presenting him with his certificate.  This was particularly special for us because his Asperger’s can make it more difficult for him to join in but the FunStars were great with him and made the whole experience fully accessible.

Our evenings were spent in the Galaxy bar, dancing along with the FunStars and watching the Zoo Troop shows.  The Monster finds it difficult to stay still but he was captivated by all that was happening on stage and so sat happily in the midst of all the children on the dancefloor.  The Minx loved to dance and developed a wee crush on FunStar Kris – we’ve been home for days and she’s still asking for him.  By the end of the fortnight the children were able to stay up quite late so, on our last night, we were there for the Gunge Roulette show and I got to go on stage too!  I didn’t win (fortunately or there would have been an egg smashed on my forehead) but I did get a certificate so the only one of us with no certificate by the end was my husband.

We’ve all had a brilliant time, and driving away from Blue Dolphin my husband and I agreed that it felt like we’d left friends behind.  All of the staff were great – from Becky’s leisure team (particularly Shannon and Jasmin who taught the Monster to swim), through the amusement arcade staff and friendly security guard staff, to the extra special FunStars, nothing was too much hassle.  Special mention must go to FunStars Kris, Shelldan and Katie who joined in with us as a whole family rather than just the children, to FunStar Alex – a gentle giant who was so funny and great at encouraging adults onto the dance floor, and to FunStar Dan – the Monster’s favourite because he was good at taking time with him and was the first to remember his name.  These FunStars went the extra mile.

Now that we’re back home I could weep about the fact that I have had to start back at work but at least I know there’s less than 50 weeks till I go again because we booked to return before we left!  Anyone fancy joining us at the Blue Dolphin next summer…?

Perhaps you’re fortunate enough to have had Herman come stay with you, or maybe you’ve just had a nibble at someone else’s but more than likely you’re just like I was and completely unaware that such a divine offering was circling your neighbourhood so I’ll let you in on the secret.

What is Herman the German Friendship Cake?  Quite simply, it’s a sourdough batter containing yeast that you “grow” over a period of nine days then bake on the 10th.  Just before you bake it you divide your mixture up and give it away to 3 friends who go through the whole process again, spreading friendship, love and tasty cake along the way.

How does it work?  At the same time as I was presented with my wee ice cream tub with some gloopy stuff in, I was given some instructions.  “Hello!” they said.  “My name is Herman.  I am a sourdough cake.  I am supposed to sit on your worktop for 10 days without a lid on.  You  CANNOT put me in the fridge or I will die.  If I stop bubbling, I am DEAD.”  There was a lot of talk of death for a cake, and given my ability to kill plastic plants I was more than a little nervous.  It didn’t help that I was surrounded by harbingers of doom who told me horror stories of Herman’s that they had known.

“They stink your house out!” 

“My friend’s exploded in a cupboard and went everywhere!” 

“Mine died.”

Still, my generous friend had given me some of the finished cake to taste as well as the starter mix and it was DELICIOUS so we ventured forth.

The instructions are very detailed:

Day 1 – Receive Herman and put him in a large mixing bowl (he’s going to grow) and cover him with a tea towel.
Day 2 – Stir well.
Day 3 – Stir well.
Day 4 – Herman is hungry.  Add 1 cup each of plain flour, sugar and milk.  Stir well.
Day 5 – Stir well.
Day 6 – Stir well.
Day 7 – Stir well.
Day 8 – Stir well.
Day 9 – Herman is hungry again.  Add the same as you did on day 4 and stir well.  Divide Herman into 4 equal portions and give 3 away to friends with a copy of these instructions.  Use the 4th portion to make your cake tomorrow.
Day 10 – Herman is very hungry.  Stir well and the rest of the cake ingredients listed below.

Really, there was no way to go wrong.  It became the Monster’s project.  Every morning he’d come down (with clean hands!) and get to stir Herman.  Yes, there was a smell, but other than day 2, he never mentioned it.  After Herman had been fed for the first time he started to bubble and rise quite spectacularly and the Monster was desperate to get to it each day to pop it back down.  He loved watching it all shrivel up.

The Monster Loved Herman

Feeding HermanFeeding Herman

I found it hard going to feed Herman without him going lumpy but a) using a hand mixer and b) the action of him growing each day seemed to knock the lumps out of him.  I know other people who stuck to stirring once a day but I would peek again at night and give him an extra stir to prevent him overflowing.

When the time came to bake him we followed the given, traditional flavours – cinammon, apples and raisin.  I generally hate fruit cake but my friend’s had been so tasty that I decided to stick with it.  The apple goes so soft and melt in your mouth, and the caramel topping oozes through the cake.  One suggestion I make is to make a caramel with the demerara sugar and melted butter to pour over the top rather than sprinkling them over separately.  It is definitely tastier.

 No Need to Wait

It’s an exercise in delayed gratification – yes, you’re going to have delicious cake but I’m going to make you wait for 10 days before you can eat it!  I know that that puts a lot of people off.  For us, it was part of the fun but if you really couldn’t wait you are free to skip straight to day 10 when you are given the mix and bake him straight away.  You’ll get all the same great taste but none of the sharing friendship mixed in.

In fact, I only gave away 2 quarters of my Herman.  We’d enjoyed it so much that we wanted to do it again but because we were going away for the weekend in the middle of the process we were either going to have to ask someone to Herman sit for us, or somehow take it 400 miles away with us.  (I should point out that we had trailed the first one 30 miles with us for a weekend with my parents but that’s much more manageable…)  In the end, I found the website www.hermanthegermanfriendshipcake.com which not only has lots of alternative recipes, it advised that it was possible to freeze him!  Given that the fridge would kill him, I was a bit dubious about this but I can confirm that not only did he freeze just fine, he came out more alive than when he went in and made a delicious cake for us to share with the Monster’s teachers and to take away on holiday with us at the end of June.

I hope that you manage to find someone to give you a starter batter so that you can join in, too.  However, if you don’t, the website above has a recipe that lets you create your own starter and then you can get one going in your area.  In fact, as my son has just gone gluten and dairy free, I’m going to have a go at starting one that suits his needs – if it works, I’ll let you know how it goes.

One word of advice though – when taking a quarter to your friends, make sure your child doesn’t decide to dive across it in the car, knocking the batter all over your passenger seat.  Take it from me – it’s a nightmare to get out of the fabric.

When I see a post like that I always check out the facts because whilst I may be sceptical clearly others are not and these updates spread like a pustulant rash across my home page.  At the end of last week I saw yet another one of these updates asking me to share it with my friends.  There were enough details to feel real – even an address – but I couldn’t see how anyone could actually want such a thing shared.  The original status was as follows:

“Hi everyone : I was just hoping I could get your help with something. Some friends of a friend have found out that their 4 year old son, Charlie, is suffering from a terminal brain tumour, and has only a few months to live. The family’s top priority is to make Charlie’s last days as memorable as possible. One of the things Charlie absolutely loves is receiving post, and he always rushes out to collect the post each morning. As such, his parents have started a postcard campaign, and are asking as many people as possible to send a postcard to Charlie, with just a simple, cheerful message on it. (Please do not mention his illness or include get well wishes.) If you are able to do this, it would really make a difference for Charlie and would be a great help and support for his parents during this difficult time.  Any postcards should be sent to

Charlie Codling
C/O Manor Farmhouse,
Little Beside,
St Day,
Redruth,
Cornwall
TR16 5PX

Thank you very much. I’m really hoping this request will mean there are a few more postcards arriving at Charlie’s door x  a friend had this posted on her wall,take a moment and make a little boy smile for just a little while x PLZ REPOST ON YOUR OWN WALLS LETS GET AS MANY POSTCARDS SENT AS POSSIBLE MANY THANKS”

I was, of course, moved by little Charlie and his family’s plight, but I couldn’t see how asking Facebook could help – surely you could potentially open yourself up to hundreds of postcards innundating you, which wouldn’t be as much fun as a handful of letters from people he knew.  I thought that it was a hoax – perhaps someone trying to maliciously hinder someone’s business by swamping them with mail.  Or maybe just someone who likes to play with people’s emotions.  A quick Google check confirmed the address was genuine and also led me to an email address.  After pausing to think about whether it was appropriate to contact them, I forwarded the status I’d seen and explained that if it wasn’t a hoax that I was thinking of their family at this difficult time, that I was happy to share it further and would make sure to pop a postcard in the post as soon as possible.

I got a speedy response from Zoe who, sadly, confirmed that little Charlie was indeed very ill, but that their request was never meant to end up on Facebook and shared amongst its 800 million active users worldwide.  Zoe told me that they shared the same sentiments as me – that “whilst we understand the goodwill intentions, you can imagine that the postcards are not going to be thousands but could escalate and make what was a very “lifting” thing to do more of an overwhelming nightmare.”

Charlie has already received lots of lovely messages and cards from all around the world which he charts on his world map but they are asking people to stop passing the message on.  She told me that they are now asking people to stop passing the message on and, instead, to write on their walls that they are very grateful and overwhelmed by the kindess that has been shown to little Charlie but that he has now reached his target and doesn’t require any more.

We continued a short conversation and she mentioned that Charlie has now decided that he is starting a wall of fame as he has had a few celebrities send autographed photos and what Charlie wants they shall endeavour to get for him.  Did I know any celebrities that would be willing to help…?

Sadly, I don’t lead an exotic A-list lifestyle (or, frankly, a Z-list lifestyle) but some friends and I organised a charity ball last year, raising funds for Malcolm Sargent House (part of the CLIC Sargent children’s cancer charity) and so I got in touch with our compère, Gina McKie of Clyde 1 FM, to ask her for help.  She was very quick to show her support of little Charlie, promising to send a photo and giving suggestions of people to get in touch with, but ultimately it comes down to spreading the word and asking the celebrities directly.

As I’ve exhausted my celebrity phonebook, I’m passing the baton on to you.  Do you know anyone who knows anyone who could help this little boy?  I hope so, because time is of the essence.  Charlie’s cancer was diagnosed at the end of March but they feel he is going downhill fast and understandably want to make the most of their time together.  My son is also four years old and I know that there but for the grace of God, go I.  I ask myself if I was in their position – if I ever find myself in their position - what would I do?  What would I want other people to do?  And I act accordingly.

Whether you can help Charlie or not, if doing a simple thing like sending an uplifting card to a child in need is something you’d like to do then I recommend that you check out Post Pals where there are lots of children hoping you’ll do exactly that.

To Charlie and his family, you are all in my thoughts and prayers.