Easter time

Last Thursday lasted a lifetime, it seemed. The minutes dragged by stubbornly slowly as I watched the clock and attempted to complete the mountain of work that needed to be finished before the Easter holidays began.  I finally embraced the end of the day as if finding a long lost friend. I felt as though I was eight again, at the end of term, racing out of school dragging my coat and PE kit along the floor behind me.  I tried to remind myself that I am no longer a school child but I practically skipped down the street, phoning my mister with squealing joy. 11 days off.

The first four days were taken up with a lovely but tiring visit from the in-laws. Two garden parties, a Doctor Who exhibition, a further 5 hours of watching 1970's Dr Who (my Pa-in law is a huge fan), an enormous curry, afternoon tea,  and several bottles of wine (and gin- eek) later, they boarded their plane back to Jersey.

The next 4 days however are mine.  I intend to spend them writing, making lists, reading, moving my blog to Wordpress (if I can figure it out), running, and generally being boring and domestic. So excited.

Happy holidays, cherries.

(Some sunny photo's of my flat and garden)

New Jeans feel good

I love jeans. I only ever have one pair at a time and I wear them to death. A good pair makes me feel like a million dollars and like I'm wearing my pyjamas all at the same time. Tight and rigid at first, but loosening over time, eventually moulding to your body and becoming like and old friend. In fact I get a little sad when I have to say goodbye to a pair. This happened recently actually,  after the holes in my crotch became a little too revealing (/pornographic) so the great Jeans search began in earnest.

I was a loyal Topshop Baxter girl before I fell out with Topshop and also wanting something ethical. After floundering on the internet for a while I stumbled across Monkee Genes. They are a UK based company that make Soil Association Organic and Fairtrade jeans in great colours and styles. I bought a gorgeous pair of their wide legged 70's jeans a while back and put a link on my blog. A couple of days later I received a really lovely email from Monkee Genes saying that they loved my blog (blush) and thanks for sending some traffic their way and would I like a pair of jeans?  I said 'um... YEAH, thanks!' Their classic skinny's have slightly higher waist than my normal Baxter jeans which I LOVE; much more flattering and no accidental crack peeks. The length is perfect too.

Sorry for the ASS photo;

 Baxters? be gone.  These retail for £60 which I think is pretty reasonable. As many of you know, my approach to clothes shopping is to spend more money on less stuff, and to only buy ethical, gorgeous, and good quality clothes that I truly love.  If £60 is a little too steep for you however, then they have a sale with some gorgeous (really- go see) jeans for £30 which is utterly bargainous if you ask me. 

Gosh I love fashionable affordable ethical clothes. I really do.

Full Disclosure: Monkee Genes sent me a pair of jeans as a one off with no strings attached. If I didn't like them I would have simply sent them back and not mentioned them on my blog. There are no ongoing deals or anything and I get nothing if you choose to click through to their site.  

Legs stretched.

If I don't go running for an extended period of time, my legs begin to feel...strange. Like they don't belong to me. The strangeness in my legs reminds me of the slightly claustrophobic feeling of being stuffed into the back seat of a packed car as a kid. Of not being able to stretch my legs because I am surrounded by duvets, suitcases, Chewits wrappers and my brothers transformers, you know?


I end up running to the station most mornings, despite promising myself that I'll leave on time this time. I never do. I also run in between my house and Ray's, 10 doors down. I always have and I don't know why. But I'm not talking about those kinds of little runs. I'm talking about missing the big, long, striding runs where you feel your heart pumping in your cheeks. 


My mister and I took ourselves off on a long run around Nunhead Cemetery this morning. I haven't run for a couple of weeks because I was sick, then too busy, so I needed this. 


Having never explored it before, we began by skirting around its perimeter, marvelling at how beaurtiful it was and kicking ourselves for not visiting sooner. As we became familiar with the surroundings we ventured down some of the tiny paths in the middle. We ran whilst looking around in wonder (and nearly tripping up), gasping at clusters of beautiful ancient head stones, weaving down sun dappled paths, around centuries old family crypts. We lumbered up its steep hills, pausing briefly to admire the breathtaking views of St Pauls cathedral, before pounding down the other side pushing our legs and our lungs to bursting point... The downhill sprint felt brilliant. We were T1000 chasing after the car in Terminator two.  Hells yeah.  It was a perfect run and the first of many at the cemetery, we hope.  If you live locally and havent been to Nunhead Cemetary, you must go. I cant beleive it took us 8 years to explore it properly. 


Two showers, some achey limbs,  a bucket of coffee, and two enormous meals later, we're at home with legs well and truly stretched. Now, we're reading, taking it easy, listening to new music.


Life is good.


Happy Saturday.



Cocoon



Agnes Obel


The Image above is not the cemetery. Its actually a path in my little local park, taken at the height of summer two years ago.  Carrying our huge camera with us as we ran was not appealing!

Train lover

The East Lancashire Railway

Oh, some like trips in luxury ships,

And some in gasoline wagons,

And others swear by the upper air

And the wings of flying dragons.

Let each make haste to indulge his taste,

Be it beer, champagne or cider;

My private joy, both man and boy,

Is being a railroad rider.

Riding on a Railway Train by Ogden Nash (one of my favourites)

I love trains.

I’m actually sat on one right now, as I write. The sun is just beginning to set and the pylons are casting long shadows across the country side. I’m slicing through fields, past dense forests and picture postcard villages, through cities and industrial sites, and fields full of sheep. It’s just me, my music, my laptop and a cup of tea. A good cup of tea on a train is all the more appreciated in my books, having been made, as it was, whilst moving at 50 miles per hour on a tilting platform.

I don’t usually work on the train. My favourite train journey past time is to simply gaze out of the window and allow my mind to wonder beyond the everyday things, to the things that usually reside at the edges. Three hours to myself. As the train tilts and twists and wobbles on its journey, I watch peoples gardens as they whoosh by. Fleeting glances through the windows, the flicker of a TV screen, children playing, pairs of tights dangling from the washing line; the shape of the oweners legs and feet still impressed into the elastic, like dangling legs in the wind...

Read the full article for Amelia's Magazine here.

Wonderful Fair Fares Illustration by Faye West

Trains, Ice Cream, Sheep

Up north to visit the family. Seven fully grown adults using a One year old as an excuse to ride on a mini steam train and a tractor trailer. Shrieking and laughing with hair billowing madly in the wind.  The best ice-cream in the world. Cows, sheep, horses. Lancashire Tea Territory. Walking, barbecuing and generally sunning ourselves in this unseasonably hot weather. Adoring my baby brother who is endlessly entertaining and adorable, and still in love with spoons. This was my weekend. It was good.

SIX Magazine, an interview, and the rise of ethical fashion

Slow Fashion by Mina Bach

“We stand for slow fashion, respect for clothes and those who created them, and the return to individuality” heralds the SIX Magazine website, and I’m sold. Sign me up. The launch of SIX excites me as much as Alina’s infectious enthusiasm for creating change in the fashion industry.

Click here to read the full article for Amelia's magazine...

I'm also going to Its Your Write tonight. Are you going?

Also, SUNSHINE.

Dear Camilla Engman

Dear Camilla Engman, 

Whoa.  I'm in love with your work*. Re-using envelopes to create a village is genius. Thanks for giving me permission to put your images on my blog. I am inspired. 

Yours, Hannah

Images courtesy of Camilla Engman found via Avril's Pinterest board

* It seems I am also in love with the word 'whoa'. A good word.

The jam jar advocate

My jam jar admiration  was recently stepped up a notch when I was offered the chance to extol it's humble virtue in a London Paper. The journalist had read my article about jam jar recycling in Amelia's Magazine  and wanted to interview me about it. Of course I agreed and am very privileged to add the role of 'official jam jar advocate' to my blogger CV (along with perfecting cupcakes, having a house full of vintage tat and marrying a beardy man*)

You can read the online version of the article here and it was also in yesterdays paper (thank you Evening Standard!)

*Is this not the blogger uniform?! Ray and I were chuckling about this the other day. Anything else?!

Beer brewing, jam making and furniture constructing. Phew...

I've had an unintentionally industrious weekend. Perhaps it was because I was ill last week, but Friday seemed to turn up out of nowhere, announcing the start of the weekend for which I had made no plans. Consequently my weekend sort of happened to me and I got carried along with it, in a good way. My brother ended up coming to stay, one of the few people in the world that I feel completely at ease with, in a no cleaning, no make up, no airs and graces needed sort of way.We piled our plates  high with home made Sag Aloo and lentil Dal, topped with a huge dollop of Raita and sank into the sofa.  We talked, we drank, we chuckled our way through Despicable Me (really quite good) and the Total Wipeout championship (gripping TV!). Saturday brought coffee and a lazy morning, junk market rummaging, cafe breakfasts and trips (yes, multiple) to DIY shops.

My mister and I decided on a whim to go Pallet hunting in order to build a new coffee table. Here it is in progress...

On Sunday my mister brewed beer whilst I planted some herbs into our cobbled together, sort-of window boxes, made from whatever we had to hand (ignore the rather sad looking Coriander, I'm hoping it perks up...) We also spent the day flicking the V's at anything Mothers day related (We are both motherless!)and consoling ourselves with mini eggs... 

 Sick of the black currants taking up space in the freezer (left over from the Creme De Cassis we made at Christmas) I also decided to make Jam, following Mrs Beeton's recipe. . It is wonderful, even if i do say so myself, and this was confirmed by my mister who couldn't wait to let it cool properly before diving in.

I printed off some labels and spray painted the lids to pretty up the jars (the best bit) and then stood and admired my handiwork, whilst taking a few photo's too many...

So, having brewed beer, made jam, planted window boxes and begun making a coffee table (Tom and Barbara would have been proud...) we fell into bed feeling pretty exhausted, but thoroughly satisfied, with soil under our fingers and spray paint in my hair (dammit) and tummies full of jam and bread. Lovely.  Now, if I could just have another weekend...



An ode to vegetables

Image by Our Time to Change, via Pinterest- My new approach to dieting summed up!

Perhaps this is a rather sad indictment on my life, but there is not much that excites me more than a big plate of vegetables. It's difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato, so said Lewis Grizzard, and I couldn’t agree more; The juicy crunch of the celery stick. The cold slurp of the cucumber slice. The snap of a carrot. The earthy softness of the mushroom. The first sweet bite of the season’s first tomato…

My veg-affair began young and is not necessarily a result of my parents being health nuts; this is evidenced by my brother’s diet which consisted of nothing more than Wensleydale cheese and salt and vinegar crisps throughout his childhood. No, I like to think that perhaps vegetables chose me (ahem).

I discovered recently that my favourite local food shop, The Broca, have set up a local vegetable box delivery scheme. To my delight it is much cheaper than my previous national scheme and much bigger too, although it isn’t organic so we are still deciding what we want to do (local thrift vs organic, hmm) . News of this  box, and its subsequent delivery, nonetheless marked two very exciting days in my little world. Just looking its contents, spread over our kitchen table, made me deeply happy. If you’re local, they deliver for £1.

Its delivery has inspired in me again a desire to cook more exciting vegetarian food. And so, armed with the help of my dear friends Moro and Ottolenghi (in my head only, alas), I plan to embark on a vegetarian culinary adventure of a (my) life time. I’m going to be braver. I’m going to use new herbs and spices I can’t pronounce properly. And I’m going to poach and grill and stew and dehydrate and roast my way through as many new recipes’s as I can muster.

Pics are mine, of The Broca shop in Brockley.

The preceding ramble was just a very elaborate way of asking; do you have any lovely, tried and tested vegetarian recipes for me? Anything that's blown your socks off recently? Whether its something wonderfully bonkers or a much loved Grandma recipe, please do tell...

Thank you in advance lovelies, I'm most grateful

And happy Friday to you, Hurrah!