Monday, 23 July 2012

Pricey Egg

Babies are amazing. I've never thought about it before but they are totally mind boggling. I only know this due to observing one now at close quarters for 8 weeks (Already! How time is zooming by). It seems that every day there is something new to see, be it a facial expression or some more hair or some extra milimetres. I'm convinced the other day that in the morning he fitted in the moses basket but by the afternoon he was too big. He grew significantly in one day right under my nose, I'm convinced of it. It feels like such a privilege to be watching this new human being developing new skills and becoming his own person. I think what I find most amazing is that you put food in one end and the baby turns the food into eyebrows or fingernails or a chubby roll. Completely boggling. The more time I spend with the baby the more amazing I think he is. I tell him a lot that I think he's awesome but I'm not sure he understands yet, although I swear he said "hello" to me the other day.

It also must be pretty weird to be a baby. Every time you wake up you're in a different room or a different outfit or have a different face peering down at you. Yesterday morning, after a short nap, baby woke up to find himself in the Hackney Picture House. We have spent a lot of time there since it opened at the end of last year. We've seen countless films there, had too many hot chocolates to mention and more fry up's than I care to remember, but we noticed something peculiar during this particular visit. Not only have the standards started to slip with presentation (although I would imagine its quite a skill actually to get the hot chocolate to run exactly down the handle of the mug and nowhere else) but they also now sell the borough's most pricey egg.

Two quid for an egg! Two quid! If I was going to pay that much for an egg I'd want it to be shit out by Foghorn Leghorn. Or at least Chicken Little. (I don't know any other famous chickens). If I had a bit more time on my hands I would definitely be writing to the manager to enquire how they can justify this new price increase or at least double check that it isn't a typo. So since I am currently unemployed and on benefits, and with this new increase in mind, its out with the fry up and in with the beans on toast. Slowly but surely all my little treats are slipping away from me . . .  The baby isn't the only one crying round here these days.

After the shock of the price of eggs, we skulked back home, baby dropped off then woke up in the afternoon in the garden for the first time in his life. I don't know if he liked it or not but it's in a far better state than when I moved in 5 years ago.

Garden before.

Garden after. 

It doesn't look quite as tidy as this now (this was last summer) as we haven't been in the garden since the day before I gave birth, but luckily things are still growing. That's one reason to be thankful for all the rain I suppose, things survived without us having to drag the hose out. Yay, Got to love the English 'summer'.


I planted these Hydrangeas last year with the foolish notion that I might use some of the blooms for my wedding. Oh well . . .

Some sort of rose.

Lovely Lavender.

No idea what this is. 

Don't think old Titschmarch has too much to worry about.

So, who knows what new place the baby will wake up in today or what new thing he has grown in his sleep. How exciting!

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