tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31348264038427041972024-02-19T01:38:43.916+00:00Hannah King PhotographyHannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.comBlogger1082125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-53431388551354987952020-04-13T12:32:00.000+01:002020-04-13T12:32:58.887+01:00on inner critics and inspiration<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This week I happened upon a quote which said,<br />
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<i>'You don't have to wait to speak until you have something profound to say. People connect to humanness, not expertness.'</i> Dr Jenn Hardy<br />
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So here I am, not waiting until I have anything particularly profound to say, but diligently writing a little bit here, a little bit there, because words whirl and swirl around me, and sometimes I want to pen them down to make sense of them.<br />
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I realised that if I want to write, I have to learn how to get a little better at silencing my inner critic. Their voice is incredibly loud and I have grown very accustomed to succumbing to the thoughts that this inner critic shares with me of my writing being useless, boring, a waste of people's time to read, all of that kind of negativity. So, in my pursuit of working out how, exactly, to keep that critic in check, I started re-reading a few books which had been helpful to me in the past: The War of Art by Steven Pressfield (a book all about resistance, what it looks like and how to overcome it) and Big Magic by Liz Gilbert (a book about creative living beyond fear). Re-reading Big Magic reminded me of how inspiration works, and how inspiration requires an openness on our part to receive whatever it might be that inspiration will bring our way. Now, I appreciate that to some of you, this is all going to sound a little odd, but that is ok. Inspiration <i>is </i>a little odd and intriguing at times.<br />
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<i>'Most of all, be ready. Keep your eyes open. Listen. Follow your curiousity. Ask questions. Sniff around,.Remain open. Trust in the miraculous truth that new and marvellous ideas are looking for human collaborators every single day. Ideas of every kind are constantly galloping towards us, constantly trying to get our attention. Let them know you're available. And for heaven's sake, try not to miss the next one.'</i> Liz Gilbert, Big Magic.<br />
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Here is the interesting part. I realised that I had probably not been very receptive to inspiration, particularly as I had been letting the voice of my inner critic sing loudly for a long time. So, as I set off on a bike ride at dusk the other night, I had a little chat with inspiration to let it know that I would be cycling, moving faster than my normal ambling speed (in line with my sixteenth month old), so if it wanted to pay me a visit on my cycle, I was very welcoming and receptive. Well. Inspiration did not seem to be galloping towards me as I rode around in the beautiful Spring time evening warmth with the thick scent of pollen and barbeque's hanging heavy in the air.<br />
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Instead, inspiration decided to greet me in the very small hours of the night last night. We like to play musical beds in our family. When I say, 'like', it is perhaps most definitely hyperbole. Our children like to keep company through the night, and often that means switching beds here, there and everywhere. Last night, my youngest was particularly keen on keeping company with me. After I had nursed him back to sleep for the umpteenth time, congratulated myself on managing to stay awake until he was asleep again so that I could return to the comfort of my own lovely bed, my husband and I crossed paths on the landing outside our bedroom. He informed me that our eldest was in our bed on the way up to the loft to settle our middle child back to sleep. It was in that moment immediately after our 2am hallway exchange (I actually have no idea what time it was - I stopped looking at the clock in the middle of the night a good long time ago) that inspiration decided to greet me. As I lay in bed, sinking back into slumber under the wonderful weight of my duvet, a poem arrived, almost fully formed. Seriously? That is the worst time for inspiration to arrive. I really value my sleep and so I stubbornly ignored inspiration (although I did repeat the words a few times mentally in the hope that when I was more lucid, my short term memory would kick in and help me out). Not so, my friends, not so. That poem vanished.<br />
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So to conclude, I am still learning how to collaborate with inspiration, and maybe next time, I need to talk a little more politely and remind inspiration that I already have three children breaking my sleep, so I would be extremely grateful if inspiration could pay me a visit another time. I would be delighted to collaborate with inspiration, just not at 2am.<br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-30494576142741940882020-04-02T14:19:00.000+01:002020-04-02T14:19:33.441+01:00Dusting off the cobwebs<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi friends. Thank you for taking some time to visit this space and read these words. My last blog post was published just over a year ago, and I shared how I was feeling the pull to write more. I ignored that pull for a while, then a conversation with the wonderful <a href="http://www.wildflowersphotos.com/" target="_blank">Joy Prouty</a> shifted things. She asked me how I was making time to write, and at that point in the year, I really wasn't making time. I had a seven month old baby and so was at the stage of babyhood where setting my alarm to get up any earlier than I already did after a broken night of sleep didn't feel very desirable. But, I followed Joy's advice and started to make time by writing Morning Pages and working my way through the book, The Artist's Way. I wrote many, many words, pen to paper, and it was wonderful. Then in December, an unexpected opportunity came up for me to start working as a Montessori teacher. Writing once again took a back seat while our whole family settled into a new rhythm of me going out to work for the first time in six years.</div>
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Now we are here. The beginning of April and the whole world has sort of shut down. I am no longer working because all schools and childcare settings have closed while we weather this viral storm, and I have both a little more time on my hands, and a lot more words that aren't getting the opportunity to be voiced aloud to friends, because I can't see them. So I thought I would try blogging again. Will I find any words worth sharing? I am not sure, but I have always felt the pull to document life, and this season of life when the world has been swept by a pandemic is an exceptional one. I want to write. Why? I am not entirely sure, other than that I have always loved writing. For years, I felt like my words were not worth sharing, and perhaps they aren't? Do I need to share them here so publicly? No. But here I am, sharing anyway. Perhaps the undercurrent of hope that I hold is one I can share, gather the eyes and hearts of others here in this space and tenderly say, 'look! there is still beauty. Even in all of this unknown and uncertainty. Under your feet, in your heart, in the sky, all around, there is beauty to be found. In pain and surrender, in fear and restlessness, coming back to beauty that is outside of me and my control makes a difference to me.<br />
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Our days have completely changed and yet in many ways they also look so incredibly normal. Calm, even. In other ways, everything is so different to life as we knew it. We cannot pop to the shops, the park, gymastics, or to see our friends. I have one boot at the shoe menders, waiting indefinitely for a new zip. Not exactly significant, but it's still a marker of how life is looking at the moment. One foot proverbially out of the door and beyond my control. I have open heartedly treasured these first hours and days filled with hunkering down with my children, slowing the pace of everything right down.<br />
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Movie soundtracks have become regular features in our lives (my three year old son identifies the tracks by their numerical place on the album: 'this is number five. Oh, this one is number three'). My daughter is painting rainbows to adorn windows like there is nothing else worth painting right now. Symbols of hope, hope and more hope. Audiobooks and children's story podcasts have become a daily feature, and we have read for hours on end together. Our days are obviously so much more nuanced than these few activities, but these are the ones that are springing to mind as being lovely highlights in our quarantined days.</div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-14487131519394161882019-02-14T19:00:00.000+00:002019-02-14T19:00:09.611+00:00on writing more<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I started this blog many, many years ago before the days of Instagram and Twitter, when social media felt slower and fuller to me. Since having children, studying a course in Montessori teaching, and setting up a couple of small businesses, blogging stopped. But there have been so many occasions when I have felt the pull to come back to this space. I have always had plenty of words to say, and more often than not, my Instagram captions verge on the length of a blog post. So here I am, circling back to my blog to let a few more words spill out into the world. I plan on sharing a few different things here, mainly what we are eating, a little on Early Years Education and some motherhood musings.<br />
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Another reason that I have not written here so much in recent years is the feeling that I am really not a writer, as such. I also feel like I don't want to write about education, then for people to read it thinking that I am professing to be an expert, because I am really not. But I keep coming back to two things:<br />
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1) Writing matters to me simply from the point of view of posterity. For my future self and my grown up children to be able to look back on how things once were. Writing holds the beautiful gift of capturing memories and moments, and it is important to me that I take the time to write and remember.<br />
2) I really love reading about the thoughts and experiences of others, so perhaps my little offering will be of interest to some. If not, nothing is lost.<br />
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I feel like this year I want to change gears a bit with a few things in my life in terms of how I spend my time. To make more time for writing because I enjoy it and I miss it. If you'd like to join me for the journey, you are absolutely welcome here.<br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-41986381495618372632019-02-12T11:15:00.003+00:002019-02-12T11:15:42.042+00:00Isaac's home birth story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I had hoped to give birth to Isaac at the local birth centre where Jude was born. My experience there with Jude was just beautiful and I was genuinely looking forward to birthing there again. Sadly, when I was 34 weeks pregnant, a temporary closure of the birth centre was announced, which meant that I had to come up with a new plan. Giving birth at home made sense for a lot of reasons for me, so that became my new plan. I felt like labour might start at any moment from when I was 38 weeks pregnant, but Isaac had other ideas. I didn't mind the waiting, and was grateful for supportive midwives who said I had no reason to be induced if I didn't want to be. I started going for evening walks from 38 weeks and those evenings are etched firmly in my memory. I would walk around the perimeter of the park by our house, watching the last of the Autumn leaves clinging on to their branches, and taking in how the moon waxed and waned in those last three weeks of waiting for Isaac's arrival.<br />
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Monday 26th November 2018: 40 + 9:<br />
After lots of gloomy weather, the day started beautifully. I resolved to go for a walk this morning and soak up the sunshine and the last fading beauty of Autumn.<br />
As has been the case with each of my pregnancies, in these final days, I am happy to be alone and crave the quiet. I decided to walk along the cycle path, which was utterly beautiful in the sunshine, knowing that I would find peace along here. Before I was pregnant, this was a regular running route for me, and I have missed the quiet beauty it offers me. I started having a few minor cramps on the walk. Not significant enough to call contractions, but enough of a change in how I was feeling for me to start getting excited that today might just be the day. Once I was home, I cooked two different soups - Moroccan chicken and butternut squash and pepper. The mild cramps continued. I texted John at 12pm just before having some butternut squash soup for lunch, to let him know things might be happening. Sara, Gerald and Jude left the house at 12.30 to catch the bus and collect Ruby from school at 1.30. I was grateful to have the house to myself, knowing that this would be needed for labour to truly begin. I started timing contractions at 1.20pm and decided to go for a walk around Page Park at 1.30pm to see if that helped things progress.<br />
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I found myself noticing the little details like how the back of a fallen leaf looked like silk, and how the tiny dog I saw had incredibly white fur. I smiled back at a Mum pushing a baby while having another contraction, that knowing smile of a woman who has recently been through pregnancy and knows what the slow waddle feels like. I bumped into our neighbour and had three contractions in the fifteen minutes I was talking to her. They were still at the stage of being able to stay calm and talk but needed to rub my back to help with the discomfort and increasingly felt the need to draw our conversation to a close and get home. It was a wonderful secret to be carrying, knowing that Isaac was starting to make his way into the world, and only I knew about it while the contractions were gentle enough for me to be able to hold a conversation without giving away that soon I would be birthing a baby.<br />
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Once I had wrapped up the conversation with my neighbour, I went home and called my good friend who was willing to open her home to Ruby, Jude and my in laws at anytime of day or night, should we need her help. I made arrangements with my mother in law to collect the children's pyjamas and toothbrushes, and set about gathering the things they needed. At 2.10pm I texted John again, feeling like I would really like him home with me. Although I was still coping ok with the contractions, I was at a point where I knew I would value his presence and support.<br />
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I rang the midwife at 2.35pm to let them know that I was confident labour was underway, and the midwife on shift for home births that day rang me back at 2.45pm to let me know she was nearby, so would make her way over to see how I was doing. John sent me a text at 2.55pm to say he was leaving, which meant another half an hour before he was home. Lizzie the midwife arrived fifteen minutes later, and I was so grateful for her arrival, to no longer have to be on my own. We chatted about how things had been going so far and she observed me through a few contractions, which was enough time for her to decide that she wouldn't leave me and come back later, as she felt the strength of my contractions and the position of the baby were such that things might progress fairly quickly. John arrived home at 3.30pm and soon after, got to work with pumping up the birthing pool and filling it. At this point, I was managing the contractions by leaning on the birthing ball while standing against the wall, swaying from side to side. I remember being grateful for the coolness of the ball during each contraction as my temperature rose.<br />
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My thoughts during this labour were very lucid. With each contraction, I found myself reflecting on how different labour felt third time around. Not so much in the physical sense, more from the point of view that my first labour was filled with excitement and anticipation around the new expeirence of birthing a baby. It was such a precious time of shared excitement with our NCT group, all due to give birth in November 2013. In the five years since then, so many women in my life have journeyed through the pain and heartache of miscarriage, often well past the first trimester. Experiencing the fragility of life in the context of motherhood, alongside the intense challenges of functioning with sleep deprivation and unhappy babies has brought with it a different perspective of motherhood. With each contraction, I found myself thinking about the women in my life and the incredible energy - both physical and emotional - that goes into birthing these precious babies. While giving birth is truly the hardest physical work my body has ever done, I felt such gratitude that I had the privilege of bringing new life into the world.<br />
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Soon after the midwife had established that I was 3-4cm dilated, I started craving the relief and comfort of being in water, and asked how soon I could get into the birthing pool. I kept thinking back to my labour with Jude and how I had managed to go far longer before getting into water with him. I really didn't want to misjudge how far along I was and risk slowing labour down by getting into the water, but the contractions were really ramping up in intensity. Lizzie felt confident that things wouldn't slow down by getting in the pool, so I climbed in, grateful for the beautiful relief of warmth and assumed the same positon I had for both Ruby and Jude's labours, head and arms resting on the side of the pool, appreciating the calm moments between each contraction. I remember glancing at the kitchen clock which said it was 5pm and thinking how I hadn't been labouring for long at all, but I wasn't sure how many hours of the intensity I could bear. I asked for some gas and air, and John questioned whether I really wanted to start using the gas and air at this stage. He knew that I wanted to hold out as long as possible without it, because the entinox takes me into such a different head space. The entinox was just what I needed. With both Jude and Isaac's labours, I have listened to Ludovico Einaudi's beautiful piano music, and the best way I can find to describe how the entinox changes the way I cope in labour is this: the intensity of contractions isn't diminished, but it distances me from the intensity. When it feels like the contractions are completely taking over my body, the entinox gives me a feeling of being in control and I quite literally conducted my way through the contractions, in time with the music.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4FQhx89kpAVaDB7BJh0Hmo_zFCOQAI73yKfQ0whvo4wU5hewpXWGFah0z5CSRqEIFgUFuSRt96MH1RNvDAmaVF2A-QPMMY5n6nbT8K14J8iNB2m6ssZKX0FPaCoThOvx391ogDkS4f-I/s1600/IMG_0844.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz4FQhx89kpAVaDB7BJh0Hmo_zFCOQAI73yKfQ0whvo4wU5hewpXWGFah0z5CSRqEIFgUFuSRt96MH1RNvDAmaVF2A-QPMMY5n6nbT8K14J8iNB2m6ssZKX0FPaCoThOvx391ogDkS4f-I/s640/IMG_0844.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div>
5.15pm: The second midwife arrived to assist with delivery, and to my delight, it was one of the midwives who had assisted with Jude's delivery at the birth centre where he was born. (For those of you who don't live in the UK, the way the NHS works means that you have no idea who your midwife will be until labour begins, so the chances of getting a midwife who you've had previously are fairly slim.) Very soon after this, I felt my waters break in the birthing pool. At the next heartrate check, the midwives told me I needed to get out of the pool because they couldn't find Isaac's heartbeat. I remember not being too concerned because I knew that this was fairly common when waters break, due to the baby decending into a different position. Once I was out of the water, they called for an ambulance, saying that Isaac was bradycardic (sustained low fetal heartrate). The urge to push followed almost immediately after my membranes had ruptured. Lizzie asked me if I was getting the urge to push, and I told her I was already pushing. This stage felt so similar to Jude's labour, when my overarching thought is one of, 'this is the hardest work I have ever done'. None of my babies have delivered easily, and Isaac was no exception. The midwives asked me to change positions so that they could gauge what was happening more easily and I remember thinking again, just as with Ruby and Jude, 'I'm in the best position for birthing, why can't I get them out?!?'<br />
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By this point, the paramedics had arrived, but Isaac's heartrate had returned to normal, so the midwives asked them to just wait in our hallway. I have so much gratitude for midwives and all that they do, and this was yet another reason for my gratitude. The way they respected my space and knew that to have more people in the room than was necessary wouldn't be helpful. Once Isaac's head was born, I heard the worrying words, 'shoulder dystocia' (when a baby's shoulders get stuck behind the pelvis). This is an obstetric emergency, and only occurs in 1% of births. The midwives were phenomenal at staying calm, and giving clear instructions to me. It brings tears to my eyes even now, thinking about how calmly they dealt with the situation. It took them seven minutes to release Isaac's arm, which then allowed me to deliver the rest of his body. The first sounds that came out of Isaac as they carried him to the changing mat to give him oxygen were so gurgly and helpless. I remember opening my eyes for the first time after he was born and thinking how different our house looked from the start of my labour, when everything had been tidy and calm with just the birthing pool set up. Now, there were towels and people everywhere, but still a sense of calm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1MPmOKqjG4RehtKqYZIfbWZr4v0yGe5xHVhQ4pz-dGPqw1yOReTKUc-0e6xkBizg0x35SRIbp9fHe289nROUJ76Gb2zz2z7129TL22F4ptBQSlbmyTIhCXstajKD_mi_XUmN-Tw9bDTE/s1600/IMG_0847.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF1MPmOKqjG4RehtKqYZIfbWZr4v0yGe5xHVhQ4pz-dGPqw1yOReTKUc-0e6xkBizg0x35SRIbp9fHe289nROUJ76Gb2zz2z7129TL22F4ptBQSlbmyTIhCXstajKD_mi_XUmN-Tw9bDTE/s640/IMG_0847.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div>
Isaac was born at 6.27pm, and we were told that we needed to spend the night in hospital so that a neonatologist could check that none of Isaac's bones had been broken as a result of the shoulder dystocia. One of my biggest concerns was that I wasn't going to get any dinner! I had genuinely been looking forward to the prospect of a hearty meal after giving birth, but now that I had to go to hospital, I would only have access to cereal! So John made me a sandwich which I ate in the ambulance. One of my fondest memories in those first hours after giving birth is when the midwives at the hospital passed me my naked little babe to put inside my top to have some skin to skin time to help raise his temperature. He had been crying after being undressed, and the moment he was on my chest, he went completely calm, closed his eyes and went to sleep. Just beautiful. The following day it poured and poured with rain. I cherished the quiet of my own room in the hospital as I snuggled with my new babe. I loved that Isaac had been born on the only sunny day we had had for weeks. John collected us from hospital at 5pm and we drove home to introduce Isaac to his siblings and paternal grandparents. The following day, we celebrated Ruby's fifth birthday. What a beautiful week of birth and celebration we had.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iW2c4HEOaTE6Z4yUwuWRXlLRKGxm0MFtE_adltAzH02FB6uSGHxi5qYSF_ZHD7lCwZMunvqK66rMtzzED_AaJF8kZ3gU1rv5JY4SFZSlRwkkDbVfEpOtwR97h7YhH40VdSXTywfOxAfL/s1600/IMG_1177.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-iW2c4HEOaTE6Z4yUwuWRXlLRKGxm0MFtE_adltAzH02FB6uSGHxi5qYSF_ZHD7lCwZMunvqK66rMtzzED_AaJF8kZ3gU1rv5JY4SFZSlRwkkDbVfEpOtwR97h7YhH40VdSXTywfOxAfL/s640/IMG_1177.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>First photo as a family of five</i></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-7609247366552207502018-03-30T19:00:00.000+01:002018-03-30T19:00:21.459+01:00capturing movement<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqMBwLSqg8AnytZTZINVgAhienlx2bOwCDD2dKtUl0vBvryoSCDXLW-VHRpkX0o7MePATR7s_6YUqkaPF7U0QqFhjctQ2t-tn7Dt3w-xjaliBcCwusadH2A73cVDrstIOinthbGbp6RIdd/s1600/2017-04-02_Canon+EOS+700D_17-33-59.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqMBwLSqg8AnytZTZINVgAhienlx2bOwCDD2dKtUl0vBvryoSCDXLW-VHRpkX0o7MePATR7s_6YUqkaPF7U0QqFhjctQ2t-tn7Dt3w-xjaliBcCwusadH2A73cVDrstIOinthbGbp6RIdd/s640/2017-04-02_Canon+EOS+700D_17-33-59.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
We are currently on holiday by the sea, staying with my in laws, and in true British style, we are experiencing plenty of Spring rain. So, rather than spending hours on the beach enjoying the sun, we are filling the day with rainy day activities: Home made hot cross buns for breakfast, morning naps for my son, Easter bonnet decorating for my daughter, and writing this blog post for me. My typing is accompanied by the wonderful tap-tapping of the rain on the attic windows - one of my favourite sounds. I thought I would share a few of my favourite photos taken from our trips to the beach here in 2017 when the weather was a little more inviting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr4jjFpq8TdW9XJmp8f6Rt7-YUgGef30H4wgsD1PABKEqIMzErjvRcOqDNkBCNa-t2K84QpA_fAvHUni0y6ISbOSdy9J97Hh-tRDFTldiPwiXOJu_mmZY3aS1_az6kZakh1xdXXFU_DVK/s1600/2017-11-06_Canon+EOS+700D_11-40-57.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr4jjFpq8TdW9XJmp8f6Rt7-YUgGef30H4wgsD1PABKEqIMzErjvRcOqDNkBCNa-t2K84QpA_fAvHUni0y6ISbOSdy9J97Hh-tRDFTldiPwiXOJu_mmZY3aS1_az6kZakh1xdXXFU_DVK/s640/2017-11-06_Canon+EOS+700D_11-40-57.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
As well as the beach theme, another theme that runs through these photos is movement. This is one of my favourite things to try and capture when photographing children, because it captures something more than just the action itself. I love the way the light glistens in the droplets of sea water that my daughter is creating with her kicks; the grains of sand blurring in motion as my sun runs his little hands through them; the wind in my daughter's hair. Capturing these little details brings me a lot of happiness.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdDQ4N2_aEU-L4TjxAXK5nOjWODIGWUT7o40Fc8CuneAgNCmtCv1XHO3t3EYe3IZPaAG2M3GKsxHvgfLMp6oWAqLIgnkJ2i05ITIpxFKsaSZsFukaLS6p2OIm5u-OhWpm1JBA49IpOeSK/s1600/2017-05-27_Canon+EOS+700D_11-16-38.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQdDQ4N2_aEU-L4TjxAXK5nOjWODIGWUT7o40Fc8CuneAgNCmtCv1XHO3t3EYe3IZPaAG2M3GKsxHvgfLMp6oWAqLIgnkJ2i05ITIpxFKsaSZsFukaLS6p2OIm5u-OhWpm1JBA49IpOeSK/s640/2017-05-27_Canon+EOS+700D_11-16-38.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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All of these images were taken on my DSLR, where I have complete control over how blurred or in focus the movement is, However, I appreciate that most people reading this will tend to take photos on their phones, rather than with a camera. My little tips for capturing movement are:</div>
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1) As much as possible, position yourself at the same level as your subject. </div>
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2)Tap the screen to make sure your subject is in focus</div>
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3) Use the burst feature so you end up with multiple shots. The likelihood is that one of your images will capture the movement you are hoping to. On an iPhone, you do this by holding down either the circle button or the volume control button continuously. The photo below was taken during this holiday on my iPhone to give you an idea of the quality of movement you can capture on a phone.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4GhAAVOjqwjHelPahamnFh7TiqFlWgyP5lBE5J0AWz1LBsVtMkACCTEiwkZu1kCw-ZLfRKM2HhYSl4yVfZiUH-SxeFUAPBk3in05BevNdYzyKT5_PjLGFOZObmDHeSUcl3VCf2fG4Ohc/s1600/IMG_5630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="441" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4GhAAVOjqwjHelPahamnFh7TiqFlWgyP5lBE5J0AWz1LBsVtMkACCTEiwkZu1kCw-ZLfRKM2HhYSl4yVfZiUH-SxeFUAPBk3in05BevNdYzyKT5_PjLGFOZObmDHeSUcl3VCf2fG4Ohc/s640/IMG_5630.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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What are some of your favourite images to capture?</div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-9923119514317841922018-03-23T20:00:00.000+00:002018-03-23T20:00:13.471+00:00documenting childhood <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-OG7ie71AKUDfdrOFXIrQfi38rgmrdPyc1I9ykJeeWd4x2RQ6PfLT_CZQ_9shGCkJJcTz6N10FJmdFC04kLYpsh8bgfzNd1_OzxTb360GRN1irToXfdVnognLFnsjaeZSwKV96bscPfA/s1600/2017-11-04_Canon+EOS+700D_16-05-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-OG7ie71AKUDfdrOFXIrQfi38rgmrdPyc1I9ykJeeWd4x2RQ6PfLT_CZQ_9shGCkJJcTz6N10FJmdFC04kLYpsh8bgfzNd1_OzxTb360GRN1irToXfdVnognLFnsjaeZSwKV96bscPfA/s640/2017-11-04_Canon+EOS+700D_16-05-13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
I have always loved photos. I can remember the crinkling sound the paper in my Dad's photos albums would make each time I turned a page, looking at the photos of me and my siblings as babies, and I have strong memories of the first photos I took as a child. Before I became a Mother, I always knew that I wanted to document my children's childhood with an abundance of photos, but in a way that was purposeful so they didn't all end up sat on a hard drive somewhere. When my daughter was a few months old, I started making photo books from my Instagram photos. I backdated the first one to span the months of September 2013 - December 2013. In that time, I went from being heavily pregnant to having a new born baby.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WujAvDgCSQCSFKAwXyBpZCBzl0ktROdphMCWx_0FpxHrsB3v96AWTZGToDhJuPFsP_Ql2M7rmdrXyQCVkIeL-5Qhpw0aKE-k02Cmts2cTzk1ZgVupGwmZCD0IDvZcuyBreNm4x3EnWhw/s1600/2013-11-28_iPhone+4S_21-02-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WujAvDgCSQCSFKAwXyBpZCBzl0ktROdphMCWx_0FpxHrsB3v96AWTZGToDhJuPFsP_Ql2M7rmdrXyQCVkIeL-5Qhpw0aKE-k02Cmts2cTzk1ZgVupGwmZCD0IDvZcuyBreNm4x3EnWhw/s640/2013-11-28_iPhone+4S_21-02-22.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<i>the first photo I took of my daughter, just a couple of hours old</i></div>
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We now have eleven photo books sat on one of our shelves,spanning all of the months between now and then. The other day, I looked at the front cover of the very first photo book, and saw the first photo I ever took of my daughter, looking back at me. My first thought was, '<i>I don't remember her looking like that. But she looks like Ruby.' </i>She is so different now. I always said to myself in those early weeks and months,<i> 'I will never forget how you are right now. Because right now, you are wonderfully, perfectly you.' </i>Four and a half years later, and I can safely but sadly say that I have forgotten. It is only with the help of videos that I can remember the subtleties of how she used to be when she was tiny. I still look at her and think, <i>'you are wonderfully and perfectly you', </i>but rather than thinking<i>, 'I will <u>never</u> forget how you are right now', </i>I think, <i>'I want to remember how you are right now.' </i>And that is why I take the time to write and document those small things that don't really matter, but that I want to remember as the years go by.<br />
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The wonderful thing about smartphones is that most of them have great cameras, and the photos look brilliant in print. I can highly recommend taking the time to make a photobook - it is truly time well spent, and something that you will never regret spending money on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCQBa-jRl1XDFV79AUrCmVNucVBcDOdLrOhIlkc8wg3KBLKg2sHl0gzYT-9700puvrz0OQ68hhHtNXzMtL99Pf2ROm5KkB4p3x7TOVICuZbIwuUyZCm0RdDSj6wAqc2Gbo8zR1OUGvz0R/s1600/2017-07-24_Canon+EOS+700D_09-40-49-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihCQBa-jRl1XDFV79AUrCmVNucVBcDOdLrOhIlkc8wg3KBLKg2sHl0gzYT-9700puvrz0OQ68hhHtNXzMtL99Pf2ROm5KkB4p3x7TOVICuZbIwuUyZCm0RdDSj6wAqc2Gbo8zR1OUGvz0R/s640/2017-07-24_Canon+EOS+700D_09-40-49-2.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-89477345152251622372018-03-18T20:00:00.000+00:002018-03-18T20:00:08.756+00:00connection & ordinary beauty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NQs3nVnqmI91DcduuvYuDgfyq0bJalCq3i4-1cRBioawRa6qR1Xh5Sug0IuwZl7gmDGpNm5dBzo_8Oey11zGFjT0lqv7fbWsEh1PZj16ZTeXXOZdQmrT9SiktjNdLCOPgnuXnikk5Ow7/s1600/2018-01-26_NIKON+D700_10-51-52-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7NQs3nVnqmI91DcduuvYuDgfyq0bJalCq3i4-1cRBioawRa6qR1Xh5Sug0IuwZl7gmDGpNm5dBzo_8Oey11zGFjT0lqv7fbWsEh1PZj16ZTeXXOZdQmrT9SiktjNdLCOPgnuXnikk5Ow7/s640/2018-01-26_NIKON+D700_10-51-52-3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
One of the reasons I take photos is because I feel this deep need to capture the ordinary beauty I see around me every day. I look at this picture of my son and I see the way that his fingers on his left hand are poised, just so, outward signs of the inner concentration it is taking for him to raise his cup. I see his bad haircut and bed head hair, so characteristic of toddlerhood. I see the little tear streak down his left cheek, a feature that he has had since birth, the result of a blocked duct. These are the characteristics that will change without me noticing, and I desperately do not want to forget these early years with my children.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAUJNJbs4NP4NYyj7Nowi0gvhevkXlOUALXUBM1mHms0zDoBAd7occ_RRbreyJUVIw8WGlKHe1kQfRt4AnRug0SfhE4NDfUaWWFEzTHjrRkDlcu2KwJ1W2Jdgw5ljNe2RiP9uX_53UYCwb/s1600/2017-01-02_Canon+EOS+700D_12-43-22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAUJNJbs4NP4NYyj7Nowi0gvhevkXlOUALXUBM1mHms0zDoBAd7occ_RRbreyJUVIw8WGlKHe1kQfRt4AnRug0SfhE4NDfUaWWFEzTHjrRkDlcu2KwJ1W2Jdgw5ljNe2RiP9uX_53UYCwb/s640/2017-01-02_Canon+EOS+700D_12-43-22.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
It is so therapeutic for me to see something that takes my breath away, raise my camera and capture it, for now. For the future. For the times I need to look back and remember all the beauty that has been and still is. To just press pause and extend my appreciation of a moment by creating a record of what I see. It is this love of ordinary, beautiful moments, and connections between people that I bring to my sessions with families, and I consider it a true honour to be invited by families to capture those connections.<br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-8594597960168159902018-03-08T07:05:00.000+00:002018-03-08T15:16:51.218+00:00embracing the public learning curve<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One of my favourite books that I read last year was <i>Big Magic </i>by Liz Gilbert. I took aways so many things from it, but one of the ideas that stuck with me was that when inspiration arrives, you have to run with it. If you ignore it, it will eventually go. At the start of December 2017 I had the idea and inspiration to start a photography business. Over the Christmas holidays, I ran with inspiration and launched a <a href="https://www.hannahkingphotography.co.uk/" target="_blank">website </a>for that business. Although I wasn't physically running while making the website, it felt a little like my brain was, and I had to keep going with the momentum, otherwise I would have given up. It is now March, and in the three months since I launched the business, I have realised how much I don't know. It is one thing to be inspired and run with an idea, it is another thing entirely to keep on running. I love analogies, and running is a great one for me, given that I love running. The last three months have felt a bit like a race of hurdles, rather than a slow, steady run, which is what I am used to. I have no clue about hurdles, other than you have to use a bit more effort to get over them than you do with running a marathon.<br />
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One thing that I do know about myself is that I am an extrovert and an external processor. So, when I encounter hurdles, my need and inclination is to talk in order to figure things out. Given that I am a stay at home Mum, and that my photography business is a solo venture, this is a big challenge for me. Lots of the advice that I have come across in how to have a successful business is to have a blog, because that improves SEO (search engine optimisation). It makes sense to me to write, because I love words, and I love connecting with people. However, I have found myself floundering a bit in terms of what to share here, because of my inclination to share the challenges with starting a business, and that doesn't seem like a particularly professional thing to do. What I am coming to realise is that I care more about being personable than professional. I do not what to pretend that I have this all figured out, because that is of no help to someone just starting out as a photographer, who might read this blog post years down the line when I have more experience. I love stories and I love the way that life is a journey made up of many, many stories. So that is what I hope to do here in this space. I will start the by sharing the stories that have led me to this point of being paid to take photos of people I do not know; stories of what I love about light and beauty and stories of how happy I feel when I take photos.<br />
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In the process of trying to learn a bit more about how on earth to start a photography business, I have started istening to Sara Tasker's Hashtag Authentic podcast. In her episode with Beth Gilby, they talked about <i>embracng the public learning curve</i>. This is what makes sense to me, and it was that podcast episode that gave me the push to stop procrastinating and just get on with writing. So this is me, embracing my learning curve being public. </div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-23445209030205823402018-02-15T15:52:00.001+00:002018-02-15T15:52:11.853+00:00new beginnings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have been writing in this space on and off for a decade, but I feel like I need to start this post by saying, 'Hello and Welcome!'<br />
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In the ten or so years since I started this blog, my life has changed considerably. I've gone from being a childminder, to getting married, training and working as an Early Years teacher, having my own babies, starting a baking business, and now, something new. Back in December, I decided to launch a photography business, and on January 2018, my <a href="http://www.hannahkingphotography.co.uk/" target="_blank">website</a> went live. In January I had the pleasure of photographing three families, and I am hoping that this year continues to be one that involves capturing families with my camera.<br />
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I truly love photography and I am genuinely excited to be on this new adventures. I will be using this space to share some of my favourite photos from my sessions, as well as sharing my story of how I got to this point, and am delighted to have you here, taking the time to read my words.</div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-69272973867107048962017-11-14T07:22:00.003+00:002017-11-14T07:28:01.079+00:00illuminated<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've recently discovered a podcast called The Family Photographer, which I am finding very inspiring. One of the episodes I listened to this week gave this advice on how to take a good photo: find someone you love, find some great light, get in close and take the photo. Another piece of advice was to capture your surroundings because they change so much over time, and in the years to come, you'll be glad that you've captured the small things which change and evolve. </span><span data-offset-key="db6ci-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Ruby starts school next year, so we are in the season of visiting lots of local schools. I took this photo just after we had come home from our fourth school visit. Ruby sat at her table and quietly started writing. I loved the way the light illuminated her hair and right hand so grabbed my camera to capture the moment. (I can't decide whether I prefer the photo with her hair or her hand in focus.) </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">The light on Ruby's face was filtered through the stained glass in our kitchen door, which creates these small shards of light, mid morning. In the new year, we will be doing some building work which will require moving this door and removing the window that the light is coming through, so I know ahead of time that this photo is only possible to take now, at this time of year with the low Autumn light, before we make changes to our house. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">This is just a simple, every day moment but I love it and I know that in the years to come, it is this kind of photo that I will treasure that captures little details of our lives. I know that I will also want to remember what the message was that Ruby was writing: 'It says, Dear Mummy, I hope you 'joy my brilliant writing. Love from Ruby.' At the moment, every card or letter that Ruby writes or draws has this same message with just the name of the recipient changing and I love it that she sees all her handiwork as 'brilliant'.</span><br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-2918415445612828332017-10-29T15:29:00.001+00:002017-10-29T15:29:44.268+00:00just start.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On Wednesday evening, I went on an impromptu run. When I say impromptu, I mean that I had the idea at 5.25pm, sent my husband a text at 5.28pm to check it would be ok for me to run when he got home, and I was out the door by 6pm. I hadn't given my route much thought, just figured I'd do a quick twenty minute run along the cycle path, round the park then home. My usual route.<br />
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As I stepped out of my front door, I was greeted by the most beautiful pink and grey skies. Our house doesn't have any great West facing views, so I had no idea sunset was so beautiful this evening. So I abandoned my planned running route, and headed West. We live in a fairly built up residential area and I was keen to find the best view possible. So I ran uphill, much faster than my average pace, desperate to soak in as much of the beauty as I could before it faded. Once I had enjoyed the sunset to the best of my ability, I turned and ran East. I didn't really know where I was, or where I was going, I just headed in the general direction of home, knowing I'd eventually get there. I encountered more hills than I had anticipated, and discovered parts of my neighbourhood that I didn't know about.<br />
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The reason I'm telling you this is because it's a helpful reminder for myself - and perhaps you too - to just start. You are capable of more than you think and can often go further, find greater adventure and more beauty than you expected - sometimes the biggest hurdle is the first step. I often think about this in relation to starting a business. Over the years, I've had a few people ask me for advice on how I started my baking business. In all honesty, the answer is that I just took the first step when I didn't have everything figured out. I made mistakes along the way and spent more money than I needed to, but ultimately, I knew that if I waited until I had done all of the research before diving in, the likelihood I would never have started. That's not to discount doing research, seeking advice and taking time with making decisions. These things are all important. It's just that it's possible to feel so overwhelmed and anxious about the consequences of these things that you don't ever try. So, just take the first step with whatever it might be that you're wanting to start - a hobby, a business, exercise, writing or reading a book. Keep putting one foot in front of the other - either physical or metaphorical - and the landscape will change in unexpected ways as you move forward.<br />
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One of my favourite books that I have read this year is Big Magic by Liz Gilbert. There were so many lessons I took away from it about creativity, and the one that has been very applicable to both my baking business and creative projects is the idea that <i>it matters completely and it doesn't matter at all. </i>Liz talks about how our creative ventures are incredibly important in that they are ideas and inspiration which we should follow, but they aren't costly in the way that the job of a doctor is. No-one is going to die if we keep on ignoring that idea that keeps coming to mind. But inspiration and creativity are really important and fulfilling. Sometimes the voice of potential defeat, challenge or failure can feel so loud that we just don't try pursuing inspiration, but sometimes, if we just start, we can find ourselves on wonderful adventures. </div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-59811600598649473212017-10-08T14:12:00.001+01:002017-10-08T14:12:56.197+01:00Jude Benjamin // Seventeen Months<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear Jude,<br />
On the eve of you turning seventeen months, we found ourselves back in the very same place where I gave birth to you, at almost exactly the same time of day. You were born at 1.44am on the 1st May 2016, and on the 1st October 2017, we found ourselves back at Cossham Birth Centre with croup. I looked at the clock as we arrived and couldn't help but chuckle that the time was 12.44am. When I shared this small detail with Daddy in the morning, he said, 'seventeen months isn't really a special milestone, is it?!' He's right in many ways, but to my Mama heart, this detail mattered. the date and time of your birth will always be etched on my brain, and for now, I think of your birth each time a new month rolls around. But more than that, as a Mother, the experience of growing a baby for nine months, then actually delivering this precious life from my body is one that I replayed over and over, not wanting to forget any of it, because every birth only happens once. Even when births are more traumatic than yours was, the story of birth is something so significant to Mothers that we keep counting the months since your birth well past your first birthday. Whenever strangers ask me how old you are, I tell them how many months you are. Ruby reprimands me and corrects me every time, saying, 'he's one, Mummy'.<br />
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This month, your communication has changed in small, fun ways. You make it very clear when you don't want something, with a little shake of your head and an 'uh-uh'. Planes and helicopters fascinate you - everytime you hear one overhead, you stop what you are doing, point skywards, gasp and look at me. We have a book called 'Things that fly' which you love. Your vocabulary has expanded to include the words:<br />
Jude: 'Dooooooooo-a'<br />
Ruby: 'oooooooooooh-sh'<br />
More: 'moooooore'<br />
oh no<br />
oh wow<br />
ball (used to be 'lllllllllllll' then 'blllll')<br />
choc (often said while wielding a bar of chocolate that you have found in my baking cupboard)<br />
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At the same time as your speech is emerging, so is your frustration with communicating and being understood. You will frequently point and say 'daaaah' and the longer it takes me to figure out what it is you'd like, the more frustrated you get. This often results in you lying on the floor, crying for a little while. I'm doing my best to understand you, little one. We'll get there. One lovely moment this last week, you had been been playing in the garden by yourself. You came inside, took my hand and insisted I come outside with you, pointing wildly and chatting about something only you could understand. You took me to our apple tree and pointed up, making it very clear that you would like an apple. We picked it and you ate it. Such a simple moment, but I loved it for so many reasons. I love that you know we have an apple tree that you can eat from. Our last house didn't have any trees at all, and this simple addition to our garden brings me a lot of joy.<br />
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At mealtimes, we give you a shot glass of water. You take a sip then pour the rest onto your plate before saying, 'mooooooore!' When we fill up your glass for a second time, you saturate your food once again. You like to spoon frothy milk into your mouth and eat your grape halves with a fork. You take great care to turn each half over so that the flat side is face down, making it easier to spear.<br />
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When you wave goodnight to Daddy and Ruby, you cock your head to the side, scrunch up your nose, fill your face with a smile and wave your characteristic wave, which I adore.<br />
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You are still so confident to approach a group of strangers when something about them sparks your curiosity. You stand and watch, not seemingly concerned if they don't take an interest in you, but delighted when they do. Especially when they happen to have a ball that they are willing to share with you.<br />
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It is no secret that I found the first year of getting you to sleep extremely challenging, and I have to say that the novelty of you embracing sleep has still not worn off. When you're tired, I ask if you'd like to go to bed and have some milk. You giggle then gallop towards the stairs, climbing onto your bed as soon as you can. Speaking of climbing, in the last month you have started to climb onto the table on a regular basis. We removed the front of your high chair as it was a source of constant frustration to you, and this has aided your ventures onto the top of the table. I have lost count of the number of times I have turned around to finding you standing there in the middle of the dining table, and the moment our eyes meet, you grin then run on the spot until I lift you down.<br />
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You are a treasure and we love you.<br />
All my love,<br />
Mama<br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-87663604519230083952017-09-26T15:05:00.001+01:002017-09-26T15:05:38.028+01:00Frenchay Moor<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On Sunday we discovered the beautiful Frenchay Moor, which is only five minutes down the road from where we live. I had no idea it existed, and got just a little bit excited by the discovery. These are the kinds of adventures that make my heart happy. Time with my little family, breathing in the Autumn air, enjoying the beauty in nature that never fails to inspire awe of God in me, and the fun of not quite knowing where we will end up. Watching Ruby's joy as she collected dandelions and presented them to me, saying, 'these are for you', her happiness as she swung on a rope swing for the first time, and Jude's glee at having wide open spaces to gallop around - these are such small but precious moments that I want to remember.<br />
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There was only one point where we thought we might have got slightly out of our depth when we reached a dead end, and the only options were to walk a really long way back with two tired children, or trespass on someone's property where there was a clear sign saying, 'Private property, do not trespass'. We chose the trespassing option, which involved scrambling up a muddy hill then jumping off a ten foot wall. Ruby's attitude was amazing. When she listened to John and I considering whether we could all make it up to the top, Ruby said, 'Yep, I reckon we can do it. Let's have a go!' The children weren't at all phased by being passed over the high wall, and I only sustained minor grazes and an elevated heart rate.<br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-84278279360196319432017-09-08T07:48:00.000+01:002017-09-08T07:48:09.815+01:00Old Down Country Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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On Monday 28th August, we celebrated seven years of marriage. It was a Bank Holiday, so John was home from work. We packed a picnic, swung by the shops to buy a fresh baguette and some chocolate croissants, and drove to Old Down Country Park. I love that it is only fifteen minutes away from our home. We have so many wonderful places on our doorstep. I have been twice before, but today we managed to explore more of the grounds than I have on previous trips. (Both of my previous trips were with Jude as a newborn, and our capacity to spend hours away from home was much more limited.)<br />
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In the time between leaving our house and arriving, the sun had come out, and we realised we had not packed any suncream. So John dropped us off and went to find a local shop to buy some. While he was away, the children played on the trampolines and explored the vegetable patch. Jude discovered the ripe raspberries so we picked a few and popped them in our mouths. We found squash too heavy for us to lift, and courgettes almost ready to pick. I dreamed of having enough garden one day to grow all of this produce ourselves.<br />
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We had our picnic in a clearing that had views out to the Severn Estuary, which was beautiful. Jude roamed around between the trees, climbing up and down little mounds and enjoying the freedom the outdoors brings. Ruby and I practised handstands and cartwheels - a theme almost every day this Summer.<br />
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There is a beautiful wildflower meadow that leads to a lake. Ruby did cartwheels through the meadow while John walked ahead with Jude in the sling to try and get him to sleep. We sat by the lake and watched the dragonflies and butterflies dance across the water. It was so peaceful and beautiful there. The views across the Severn Estuary were stunning. We ended the day with Ruby taking all her clothes off so that she could play with some other children in the three giant paddling pools that were filled to the brim and overflowing with water. She had so much fun, jumping in and out of each of the pools, immersing her face and throwing her wet hair back over her head, water spraying everywhere. This is what childhood is about. Enjoying the simple things, carefree and happy. Being outdoors as much as possible. I don't know quite how I am going to fill our days when the rain is relentless and the sunlight even more fleeting than it is now. </div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-75342479675732625432017-09-06T07:08:00.000+01:002017-09-06T07:08:39.960+01:00Kilver Court Gardens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Over the Summer, we have been on a few lovely day trips to places that are a short drive from Bristol. At the moment, I would say that forty minutes is Jude's maximum capacity for a car journey, although even that is often too long, and he loses the plot for the last stretch. One Sunday morning, Ruby had an uncharacteristic lie in until 9am, which made it impossible to get to Church for 9.15am. So we embraced the empty day, and decided to go on an adventure to Kilver Court. I didn't know much about it, other than what I had read on <a href="http://www.thesefourwallsblog.com/travel/a-visit-to-kilver-court/" target="_blank">this blog</a>. The photos of the garden were enough for me to know that I wanted to go there. We packed up a quick picnic, then set off as soon as we could to limit the chances of Jude falling asleep in the car. (I know that one day, these kinds of details will not be a factor in decisions about days out. So I am writing them down to remind myself that even in the early years when going on a day trip wasn't entirely straightforward, we did manage it.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9DoJZX5XXrSoDJU-IWnZZIIF1iL5aSSY2eSO2Fz69PAAnqUwp93qgJN8RdRlGPiNeIZzZLwGao4xBpTOWLJTrAOWdwGnahHuF7EaSCJu0a3Gtw6e96V6D8PDyzQawtz1oRk3mGMGsgTg4/s1600/IMG_9092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9DoJZX5XXrSoDJU-IWnZZIIF1iL5aSSY2eSO2Fz69PAAnqUwp93qgJN8RdRlGPiNeIZzZLwGao4xBpTOWLJTrAOWdwGnahHuF7EaSCJu0a3Gtw6e96V6D8PDyzQawtz1oRk3mGMGsgTg4/s640/IMG_9092.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
We were the first people to arrive at the gardens, and it was such a beautiful place to explore. Kilver Court has an interesting history - it was originally built as a lace mill and the owner of the mill created these gardens and a boating lake for his employees to enjoy. The gardens are truly beautiful. It was a peaceful place for John and I to relax and feel refreshed, and Ruby and Jude are at the age where they love places like this. There are endless opportunities for games of hide and seek around the viaduct arches, little rivers and fountains everywhere to dip toes and throw stones, steps to jump off and grassy areas for Ruby to practice cartwheels and handstands. They were happy for hours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFmFUqXdcXLIdcFLSd8_pGpce6x4fA14jkZqpzCIMjGIAB3X2aHyuWHr7mPcHGgyLj_aw2PK9M8gDMFIv-0wHn_hP3H5vyxaSSHVuKhh1LM7ai_rcypyuGUyX5lFY8Ao1O7fwKT13tccl/s1600/IMG_9103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFmFUqXdcXLIdcFLSd8_pGpce6x4fA14jkZqpzCIMjGIAB3X2aHyuWHr7mPcHGgyLj_aw2PK9M8gDMFIv-0wHn_hP3H5vyxaSSHVuKhh1LM7ai_rcypyuGUyX5lFY8Ao1O7fwKT13tccl/s640/IMG_9103.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
While Jude napped in the sling with John, Ruby and I explored the Great House, which is a really beautiful homeware shop. I love this kind of place for stocking up on gifts and greetings cards. Ruby loves smelling scented candles as much as I do, so we happily spent an hour sticking our noses in candle jars! We ended our time there with coffee and cake in the cafe. Being a baker, I am rather selective about cake that I choose to spend money on, so I was delighted to see that Kilver Court's cakes are made with spelt flour that's milled at the nearby farm of the owner. I love knowing where my food has come from (the more local, the better), and that the ingredients used are high quality<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbrbEVfNme5_VRYZOSEpd6bckL512d2lcezcE1FaqY2kFV4Kg5GyhGms7KyBO47a6LtWheArbBBFJMMPSm7Sog_4_G7Gl9uief_LC0YCpPpP9Vn-rXIkE2Wai-dPi3VRkc3APGltDw1iSm/s1600/IMG_9122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbrbEVfNme5_VRYZOSEpd6bckL512d2lcezcE1FaqY2kFV4Kg5GyhGms7KyBO47a6LtWheArbBBFJMMPSm7Sog_4_G7Gl9uief_LC0YCpPpP9Vn-rXIkE2Wai-dPi3VRkc3APGltDw1iSm/s640/IMG_9122.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOHEIKFkeARpubzyRjA3URDN4EL-uAWVPv5iZES5wXvMmKCFyGOYQXZZhchhNPrNQk2os3r0gWi0w-Nyn03PCXL3QvRzGQ0VYaggzQB13M7CLvCAZ2pIiwu8lOtkqBjnkmN-bVGCaKrxT/s1600/IMG_9142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOHEIKFkeARpubzyRjA3URDN4EL-uAWVPv5iZES5wXvMmKCFyGOYQXZZhchhNPrNQk2os3r0gWi0w-Nyn03PCXL3QvRzGQ0VYaggzQB13M7CLvCAZ2pIiwu8lOtkqBjnkmN-bVGCaKrxT/s640/IMG_9142.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-32727147993024887942017-08-31T07:23:00.000+01:002017-08-31T07:23:01.604+01:00How dinner is made<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQVruKtqnsMlNsPzLfWY4vLITehd9DfOtyXpYYIMS0So3A08Y2e0p5Ob7i8kztPCDEwwqgGnRs48-Ls-M_F_3rLxgOcU1eR6JRbgla_8srj5aO5wCBu0IyVXgDy_JFyjY3ftPtQvQRx4W/s1600/lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSQVruKtqnsMlNsPzLfWY4vLITehd9DfOtyXpYYIMS0So3A08Y2e0p5Ob7i8kztPCDEwwqgGnRs48-Ls-M_F_3rLxgOcU1eR6JRbgla_8srj5aO5wCBu0IyVXgDy_JFyjY3ftPtQvQRx4W/s640/lunch.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Dinner.<br />
It's cooked in the inbetweens.<br />
<br />
In between<br />
climbing flights of stairs, simply because my son wants to climb<br />
immediately.<br />
Peel the onion<br />
Chop then stop and heed<br />
invitations from my daughter to 'come and see this'<br />
her latest acrobatics in the garden.<br />
<br />
In between<br />
Playing dominoes,<br />
Finding keys<br />
oil in the pan<br />
heat on<br />
soffrito sizzle<br />
<br />
In between<br />
blowing up balloons<br />
opening cups then closing them again<br />
and again and again<br />
resolving sibling disputes over a fishing net<br />
wondering what on earth my son is eating now?<br />
Bottle cap - choking hazard,<br />
Please don't let him die.<br />
It's out, he's fine.<br />
Pop the chopped aubergine in the pan.<br />
<br />
In between<br />
kitchen dance parties with the Lumineers<br />
to lift our spirits one more time<br />
while missing the postman because we<br />
didn't hear the doorbell chime.<br />
Add the tomatoes, sizzle and stir.<br />
Get the blade for the blender out.<br />
<br />
In between<br />
deciphering toddler screeches<br />
and dishing out snacks at 4.50<br />
wondering what in the world has happened to me?<br />
I never thought that I would be<br />
handing out snaps when dinner's coming shortly.<br />
Aubergine balls rolled,<br />
gymnastics displays watched again,<br />
son prevented from choking on a small wooden figure,<br />
blitz the breadcrumbs.<br />
Stop to console daughter who changed her mind<br />
about having bare feet outside,<br />
as good a reason as any to have a little cry.<br />
Chop, chop, chop, sizzle & fry.<br />
Tiny progress.<br />
<br />
Then.<br />
Rethink my whole plan<br />
and<br />
Pop a frozen quiche in the oven because I don't even like aubergine.<br />
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-69886417180218357632017-08-24T14:12:00.002+01:002017-08-24T14:12:23.608+01:00on photography<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Iei3m9d2V8RWGO5E6cbMRJLvdI4pr7LtwYdUw9u-mF4tWKo0c1emBufN7cySWu3ziMuwuT-bDnWlz5YtuSTMwcRZmtWcz4i7yk1XKBSUxWpXlGlb5RN5HqppX9FAi8TI8LOIdRA_z05D/s1600/IMG_8655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Iei3m9d2V8RWGO5E6cbMRJLvdI4pr7LtwYdUw9u-mF4tWKo0c1emBufN7cySWu3ziMuwuT-bDnWlz5YtuSTMwcRZmtWcz4i7yk1XKBSUxWpXlGlb5RN5HqppX9FAi8TI8LOIdRA_z05D/s640/IMG_8655.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
Lately I have been missing this space, and the way I used to come here to document the details of our lives that I wanted to remember with some of the many photos I take. Over the Summer months I have managed to take more photos with my DSLR than I have in a long time. So often when we're going out as a family, I run through the mental checklist of everything I need to take. Before children, the list was keys, phone, purse, water bottle? Check. Let's go. With children, the list has quadrupled in length to include nappies, spare clothes for both children, water bottles for both children, snacks, sun hats, sun cream, wellies, coats, baby wipes, toys for distraction on car journeys, anti-bac gel, tissues and the kitchen sink thrown in for good measure. By the time my bag is filled with all the paraphernalia, there is rarely space for my camera, so I usually default to just using my iPhone.<br />
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I have been thinking a lot about creativity recently, partly prompted by the book, 'Big Magic', and partly it's just an ongoing thought process I have. Growing up, I remember feeling a great disappointment about my ability to create with paint in a way that reflected what my mind had imagined. My Dad gave me my first SLR for my seventeenth birthday, and I remember a pivetal moment being when I processed the rolls of film that I shot during my gap year travelling that I realised I could capture something that I was proud of. I love the way that photos allow us to remember the beauty in an even greater detail than our memories allow. There is something more detached about photography in that you are making art from something that already exists, whereas with painting, the skill lies with the painter to create from scratch. In photography, I discovered a creative outlet which didn't make me feel disappointed with my creativity in the way that I had with painting.<br />
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With the digital age of photography, I have thousands more photos than I would have if I had carried on shooting with film, and while I am consistent in making photo books with my phone photos, the same cannot be said for my DSLR images. They just sit on my memory card, in my computer and in in a couple of hard drives. Back in June, I started a photography organisation course to get on top of every single one of my digital images, which will help hugely when it comes to making photobooks based around particular themes. Revisiting some of the photos I have taken over the years reminded me again why I loved this blog and the place it held for my storytelling, and inspired me to keep on doing so. </div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-7205142213681471602017-05-17T20:43:00.001+01:002017-05-17T20:43:27.973+01:00Meal Plan #6<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The weather is feeling decidedly like Winter rather than Spring at the moment - so much rain, wind and grey skies. I feel half tempted to start eating soups and casseroles again, but instead, I am going for good hearty meals, not much meat and plenty of flavour, with a little bit of Summer fruit thrown in to help bring the tastes of Summer to the table, even if the sun is not shining and I am still donning my Winter boots every time I leave the house. </div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;">Meal Plan #6</span></div>
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Monday: Loaded jacket potatoes (mix the cooked potato with tuna, spring onions, cream cheese, cucumber and any other delights we fancy)</div>
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Tuesday: Chicken Fajitas</div>
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Wednesday: Rainbow salad & bean burger falafel in wholemeal pitta breads</div>
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Thursday: Salmon Carbonara</div>
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Friday: Easy Pasta Bake (Make a sauce by mixing lots of finely chopped veg - carrots, celery, mushroom, courgette, sweetcorn, peppers, etc with a can of Campbell's condensed mushroom or chicken soup.)</div>
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Also eating for lunches...</div>
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Sweetcorn fritters</div>
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Quinoa & spiced chickpea salad</div>
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Homemade bread with mushroom & goats cheese dip</div>
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Cheese & Tomato on Toast</div>
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Watermelon, Feta & Mint salad</div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-36120606804240927552017-05-13T14:07:00.000+01:002017-05-13T14:07:28.565+01:00Don't forget the roses<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I started writing this post at the beginning of December 2016 in the week leading up to us moving house. It has taken me a long time to finish writing it for so many reasons. I needed the dust to settle after moving house and I needed time to adjust to life in a new home before I could finish writing this. The wonderful thing about a blog is that the stories shared don't have to be complete because they are part of a bigger story that is ongoing. It's the details of our days that become part of a greater story and I want to paint those stories with words and pictures, so that in the years to come, when these current stories become old memories, we can look back and remember with greater clarity than our memories allow.<br />
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'Don't forget to pack the roses' I think to myself as I walk down the garden in the dark, making a mental note of what not to forget when we move house. We built this garden from scratch - it was just a rubble yard when we moved in three and a half years ago. Those David Austin roses were a present from my parents and their beauty astounds me. I will happily leave everything else in the garden - even my beloved peonies - but not the roses. I need to bring that bit of beauty with us. I collect the warm laundry from the tumble dryer in our garage at the bottom of the garden and wonder how many more trips I will do from the house to the tumble dryer in these last days before we move.<br />
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We have chosen this. We didn't have to move house - no one made us, or forced us to, but still, it feels bittersweet. There is often a sadness that comes with leaving something behind. Last night I dreamed about sleeping in our new home, with the sound of rain pounding on the skylight Windows. I am looking forward to that. It's such a comforting sound to me.<br />
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One week into living in our new home and I find myself parked by the roadside, holding my screaming baby and crying myself. I miss my old house. I miss the light and space. That golden light that flooded in whenever the sun shone. Why hasn't the sun shone yet since we moved? I miss being able to walk around my bed without cracking my shin on the corner of the bed. Again, we have chosen this. But this feels a little like mourning.<br />
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That was the home where we brought home our babies from hospital. It was the home where we had lovely neighbours and a good amount of space. We thought long and hard about moving, and even once we had sold our house and had our offer accepted on the new house, I questioned time and time again whether this was the right move. John was always more certain. He took the attitude of, 'if our things don't fit in this house, just get rid of them! We don't need to live with much!' We viewed other houses that offered far more space for the same amount of money, and after each viewing, I would say to John, 'are you <i>sure?' </i>Then we would discuss the pro's and con's again. Every time, we decided that this would be a good move for us in terms of location within the city. But I struggled to get past the space we were losing for the benefits we were gaining.<br />
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Those first few months in our new home were hard. We moved in the Winter when the trees were bare and the rain was relentless. There were so many days where it felt like the sun never fully rose and I wandered around this house that was yet to feel like a home, wondering, 'where is the light?' on a daily basis. I didn't venture into our garden for a good long while. But when I did, I discovered a whole wall of climbing roses. I couldn't help but smile and think of the two little rose bushes that I had been so desperate not to forget. I wanted to bring life and beauty into our new home, and those roses represented that for me. And yet, there was beauty already here. Much to my delight, I discovered that the previous owners had also left a potted peony. They could have taken it with them, but for some reason, they didn't. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me.</div>
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As Winter made way for Spring, our walls slowly filled up with pictures. We still have a big pile of unhung photo frames in the loft, but what I have realised is that new spaces call for changes. I loved all of the photos and artwork we had in our old home. But somehow, they don't all quite seem to 'fit' in our new home. Not in terms of space, but feel. Life has moved on and changed a lot in the time we spent in our first family home, and our photos weren't really representative of that. I realised back in December that we hadn't printed a single photo of Jude since he had been born in May. </div>
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It takes time for a house to feel like a home, and slowly we are getting there. Where our last house felt like a ready made space that required little changes, this new house inspires me in ways that our last house didn't. And that surprises me. I don't know why, exactly, but it does. Spring is now in full swing and we have grown accustomed to our new home. We have plans and dreams of how to put our own mark on it, and that feels exciting. The birdsong is so much greater here than where we used to live, and we never tire of watching the squirrels scurrying up the tree trunks and along our garden wall. (We do, however, tire of them digging up our strawberry plants!) The clematis and violas are in full bloom and our daily trips to the park are so enjoyable. We have precious friends living round the corner and it truly is a gift to live in such close proximity to people who we can share life with. </div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-45431486617432556952017-05-11T20:29:00.004+01:002017-05-11T20:29:53.814+01:00Meal Plan #5<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's been a while since I shared my meal plan, hasn't it? Having a plan for what we are going to eat helps me enormously in that it means I rarely let myself get to 5pm when both children are starting to fall apart, and find myself standing in the kitchen and eating peanut butter sandwiches instead of cooking anything because all cooking inspiration evades me at 5pm. I have also found it really helpful to prepare as much of the meal as possible in the morning, when both children are happily playing, I prioritise cooking over any other housework, because ultimately, bellies need to be fed more than floors need to be cleaned. Here's what we've been eating this week.<br />
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;">Meal Plan #5</span></div>
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Monday: <a href="http://hungermama.com/salmon-curry-pasta-wonder-pot/" target="_blank">Salmon Hungerpot</a></div>
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Tuesday: Orzo pasta with roasted cherry toms, mozzarella & spinach</div>
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Wednesday: Bean Burgers on homemade Granary rolls</div>
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Thursday: <a href="https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/spinach-sweet-potato-lentil-dhal" target="_blank">Sweet Potato, Spinach & Lentil Dahl</a></div>
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Friday: Lasagne (from the freezer)</div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-49575295865972824352017-04-19T10:48:00.001+01:002017-04-19T10:49:10.040+01:00running + perspective<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img alt="Displaying IMG_7260.JPG" height="381" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=1833fa851b&view=fimg&th=15b8584367088a1d&attid=0.2&disp=emb&realattid=15b8583f6cf71c578261&attbid=ANGjdJ8K7g5cu8KdXCKNAaQ1ywTrmEvHtrKmgYAYEKwnPmB8KAjBljFINjUwOuaI8y0HFDOHyWdzep-A68bM1eF9_6NEC3EI0tkYDsmmvlDtvn_7bv8L3AA6y04Hm4Y&sz=s0-l75-ft&ats=1492593852264&rm=15b8584367088a1d&zw&atsh=1" width="640" /><br />
I started running again back in December. I would set the alarm for 5.45am in order to be out the door and running with my friend Rozey at 6am. Those early morning Winter runs were fun, but they were also hard. Jude's sleeping patterns were incredibly hard going at that point, and I have lost count of the number of times I sent Rozey a text at 3am to cancel our run for the following morning. Some days it felt like pulling my body through sludge. Other days it felt great to just breathe in the cold Winter air, have a break from my children and just to <i>move </i>and get some exercise before spending the day with my children. I cannot emphasize enough how much difference it makes having a friend to run with. I don't have time to think too much about how running feels because I am so busy chatting. Little by little, we have run further and faster, without trying particularly hard to do so. We have just put in the time and the changes have happened. Sometimes all I have felt able to is just show up, but that is enough.<br />
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Yesterday, within half a mile of running, my thoughts had transitioned from, 'I can't do this, I don't want to do this. My body hurts and I'm not even running yet' to 'this is amazing! I feel free! I want to go faster!' It doesn't mean that I then feel pain free or fast for the entire run. It doesn't mean that I don't stop and walk and have to find momentum again. But it reminds me that I don't have to go far to see a shift in perspective. It's always there, just on the horizon. Sometimes the horizon disappears from view, but it's always there.<br />
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I have written about running many times over the years if you fancy a read, just click on the 'Running' tab in the sidebar. Alternatively, here are the links to a few of them...<br />
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<a href="http://hannahruthking.blogspot.co.uk/2011/08/blue-shack.html" target="_blank">Running in Scotland 2011</a><br />
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<a href="http://hannahruthking.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/on-running-in-pregnancy.html" target="_blank">Running while pregnant</a><br />
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<a href="http://hannahruthking.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/on-tension-running.html" target="_blank">Running when Ruby was little </a>and I entered the season of feeling like my body had aged 30 years over night (I am still in that season now...)<br />
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<a href="http://hannahruthking.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/capacity.html#comment-form" target="_blank">Running & capacity</a></div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-31042624482552134322017-04-09T08:59:00.002+01:002017-04-09T08:59:40.597+01:00creativity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>'</i><i>The world is filled with to many unfinished manuscripts as it is, and I did't want to add another one to that bottomless pile. So no matter how much I thought my work stank, I had to persist.' - Liz Gilbert, Big Magic. </i><br />
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I have 101 blog posts sitting in my 'drafts' folder in Blogger. That is the exact number 101. One hundred and one pieces of unfinished writing. Over the last couple of years my writing here has fizzled out and boiled down to just my 52 Portraits project. Even those posts have dried up (although <i>many</i> of the 101 drafts are weekly letters to my children that I have either not finished, or just not pressed 'published' on. Writing here had to take a back seat while I completed a year of studying Montessori Education, I needed to write 8000 words worth of essays, and finding those words then managing to connect them up into something coherent and academic took a lot of effort. The effort spent on that, while growing and raising a tiny human (Jude) and running a baking business with no child care for my daughter meant that I had no capacity to write here. Or desire, really. I had kept this blog for a decade and my momentum had gone.<br />
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But now I find myself in a place of wanting to get those unfinished words to a finished state, if nothing more, than to get them out of my head. There is one post in particular which I started writing in the lead up to moving house at the end of last year, and those unfinished words keep coming back to me, like they are needing to be written and dealt with.<i> </i><br />
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The quote I included at the beginning of this post is from <i>Big Magic, </i>which I am currently reading. It is a truly fascinating book on 'creative living beyond fear', and of the many things I have taken away from the book, this is one of them: creativity matters. Prior to reading the book, I had been feeling very lacklustre about creativity, I would look at the pile of beautiful fabrics stacked up on my sewing box and think, '<i>I could sew something, but what's the point? I won't be able to finish anything in one sitting, and I don't want more unfinished projects hanging around...nobody needs another quilt, so why bother making one?' </i>And yet one of the lessons I learnt very early on as an Early Years teacher is that the process is often more important than the end product. Time and time again, I have known this to be true for children, so why not apply it to myself? I recently had a conversation with my Mum (a brilliantly creative person, but calls herself 'not very creative', who said she found it hard to sew or paint things if they didn't have a useful purpose, to which I told her that doing it simple for the enjoyment was a valuable process. I absolutely believe this to be true. That's one of the messages of <i>Big Magic, </i>and it's exactly what I needed to be reminded of myself. What we create doesn't have to change the world but it <i>does </i>change us as artists when we engage with it.<br />
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This book has also reminded me that inspiration only stays with us for so long before moving on if we don't welcome it and use it. I am conscious with these unwritten blog posts that some of them won't ever be published, because when I return to them, the inspiration will have gone, and I will not be able to pick back up where I left off. But there are others that still need to be written, and it will help me to do so. If nothing more than to help me process what I am thinking about. One of the reasons I had grown dishearted with writing this blog was that I had written for so many years and so few people read my words. Deep down, I knew this did not matter - I am almost certain I would not have carried on writing for an entire decade if I really cared about how small my readership was. But for a time, it bothered me. If I did not care for the words I wrote, why would others want to read them? I was not motivated to write for myself, and I had to stop. During this season of mothering two young children, I do not have the time or energy in the evenings that I once had. But, I have realised over the past few months that I <i>need </i>to write. Just for myself. And if others enjoy reading them, then that is wonderful, if not, I have lost nothing, and it matters not. Here's to getting back to writing and making space for being creative, because it matters and I need to do it. </div>
Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-35755543292988535012017-02-13T09:00:00.000+00:002017-02-13T09:00:18.812+00:00Meal Plan #4<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: center;">Hello and Happy Monday! You know how there are those phrases like 'creativity breeds creativity' and 'sleep begets sleep'? I am wondering if there is something similar to go along with thinking about food more deliberately resulting in more meal ideas? Completely uneloquent, I know, but I am sure you catch my drift. My point being, as I write this, it is Thursday 9th February and I have already written the meal plan for next week, rather than waiting until Sunday, or half an hour before I go to the supermarket on Monday. I don't think this has ever happened before. Here's the plan for this week:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">Dining with The King's</span></div>
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Monday: Sausage Casserole</div>
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Tuesday: Takeaway (Perhaps this is a cop out to put on a meal plan, but there we go. Once a month when my in laws come to stay, we have a takeaway curry, and that's happening this week. Such a treat!)</div>
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Wednesday: <a href="http://searchingforspice.com/2014/01/05/jamie-olivers-grated-rainbow-vegetable-salad-with-sesame-feta-fritters/" target="_blank">Feta Fritters with rainbow salad</a>, sweet potato fries and pitta bread</div>
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Thursday: Chicken Pot Pie (similar to <a href="http://www.forloveofthetable.com/2014/01/chicken-pot-pie.html" target="_blank">this one</a> but without the lima beans and with extra veg)</div>
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Friday: <a href="http://allrecipes.co.uk/recipe/1649/homemade-black-bean-burgers.aspx" target="_blank">Bean Burgers</a> with homemade red cabbage coleslaw (shredded cabbage, grated carrot & red onion mixed with creme fraiche)</div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-749116425353778222017-02-09T12:46:00.000+00:002017-02-09T19:39:39.506+00:00Meal Plan #3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Here is our meal plan for this week. I have every intention of sharing the meal plan at the start of the week, but right now, time for blogging is limited to evenings, and my current bedtime is as close to 9pm as possible, due to sleep deprivation. Needless to say, this does not leave much time for sitting<br />
down and writing a blog post. So I'm writing this with Jude trying to climb up my legs and Ruby is watching TV. The mushrooms are simmering and I'm counting down the minutes until my husband gets home. What's gracing our table this week...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Dining with The King's</span></div>
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Monday: Cheese & Roasted Tomato orzo</div>
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Tuesday: <a href="http://www.talesofmeandthehusband.com/2016/09/chicken-divan-meal-ruts.html" target="_blank">Chicken Divan</a></div>
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Wednesday: <a href="http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/chicken-recipes/thai-green-chicken-curry/" target="_blank">Thai Green Curry</a> with noodles</div>
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Thursday: Dahl with rice*</div>
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Friday: <a href="http://hannahruthking.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/our-classic-pizza.html" target="_blank">Homemade pizza</a></div>
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As for our lunches, we're enjoying plenty of homemade sourdough with leek & potato soup, or quinoa with scrambled eggs and goats cheese. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">*This meal is being cooked by my good friend Hannah - we did a swap which involved her cooking me a meal in exchange for me cooking her a cake. She loves cooking, I love baking. Everybody wins. </span></div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3134826403842704197.post-45907948846657500982017-02-02T07:11:00.004+00:002017-02-02T07:11:54.470+00:00Meal Plan #2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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When it came to finding a photo of something savoury for this post, I had nothing. The reality is that I take photos of cake far more than I take photos of dinner. So, cake it is! Ruby took this photo on my DSLR (aged 3 years 2 months). I love that she sees me taking photos and wants to learn how to do this too. She handles my DSLR remarkably well considering it is so heavy for her tiny hands, but her increased interest in photography has made me think it would be very worthwhile to buy her a little point and shoot camera. The satisfaction of capturing photos is one that lasts a lifetime, and so worth investing in.<br />
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Onto this week's meal plan. I realise that it is almost the end of the week, but I wanted to make a record of this week's meals, because I have no doubt in my mind that I will forget by Sunday what we have eaten, and the whole reason for writing these meal plans is to save me some time in coming up with meal ideas. Last week in my post about our meal plan, one thing I didn't mention is that while I love a good plan, I am also very good at veering from a plan. I like to think that this demonstrates my ability to be flexible, rather than flaky. I veered away from last week's meal plan a couple of times, but with good reason. I had roasted a chicken for Monday's risotto, and there was enough meat left over for two moremeals. So rather than waste perfectly good meat, or put it in the freezer, I made a couple of other meals with it. (Chicken, pesto & pasta and rice pilau with chicken and sausages that I had in the freezer.)<br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">Dining with The King's</span></div>
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Monday: Leftovers</div>
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Tuesday: Homemade Quiche (onion, chorizo, spinach)</div>
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Wednesday: <a href="http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/fish-recipes/asian-salmon-sweet-potato-traybake/" target="_blank">Roasted salmon & sweet potato bake</a> w/ rice<br />
Thursday: Lasagne</div>
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Friday: <a href="http://hungermama.com/sweet-potato-slow-cooker-chili/" target="_blank">Slow cooker sweet potato chilli</a><br />
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If you're wondering what we eat at the weekend, I leave the cooking to John, who doesn't plan but comes up with really delicious meals. So, I have no idea what we will eat on Saturday and Sunday, but I have no doubt it'll be wonderful. </div>
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Hannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12953492276859113122noreply@blogger.com0