Category Archives: Home

Second Thoughts

I was going to title this post “Confessions of a NL Housewife” and decided that the resultant commentary was the last thing I needed to deal with whilst debating the relative merits of upgrading my site security and doing beggar all. Maybe substituting dithering for confessions would be more accurate anyway.

I love cooking, but never follow a recipe book. It’s not quite a confession. It could actually be a bit of a humble brag, except I always start out thinking I’ll follow the recipe and obviously love recipes and recipe books. I have tons of the things on my shelves and my own dedicated recipe box on the NYTimes site (really recommend the latter for anyone who hates losing recipes on-line).

In fact I’m always really disappointed to realise I can’t follow the recipe, inevitably because something is missing. Even if I have bought the ingredients carefully and comprehensively on-line, by the time I get around to it either a key spice has lost itself at the back of the cupboard or the kids (or man) have eaten the new fruit or vegetable “just to see what it was like”

And in part the problem is timeliness. I start out ordering the ingredients early in the week but the food is delivered on a Friday, which means cooking on a weekend or alternatively, eating out or cooking something simple because life is too busy, so it’s almost always a week or three after the ingredients are bought and delivered that I finally get around to cooking.

Which also means sometimes things are just past their best so an alternative is called for.

I’m a pretty rubbish gardener as well, despite loving the whole idea of a garden and certainly the sitting out in the shade. So I’ll order my bulbs, my tulips and alliums, and then when they arrive six months later have totally forgotten what to do with them. There is a plan, but who knows what it once was.

And sometimes this ends up with a surprise success. Having bought white/purple pansies last Autumn that failed entirely to appear all Winter-Spring but suddenly showed their faces in time for the Summer and have totally made work a white-purple-pink colour scheme, so well that I might just try to stick with it for the next forever.

But it also means that plants sometimes turn up and although I’m almost certain that I’ve planted them, I have no idea what they are. I am almost certain that the triffid like creatures popping up at the end of the pink rose bed are actually huge foxtail lilies that I planted a year or so ago. They never really turned up for the party after planting. Maybe the garden was too wet (or more likely too dry) that year and maybe the squirrels moved them about a bit (beggars).

But when I can bring myself to stick to a plan, which usually means the plan isn’t too long term, then I still am stuck waiting. because gardens almost always take a couple of years or ten, to settle into their skin. Whilst some of my plants like the perennial wallflowers singularly fail to die off in their allotted time (2 years or so) others such as the rose and underplanted salvia will take three to four years before showing signs of maturity.

Patience is a gardening asset that I may never own.

Yet I still love the garden and pottering around in it doing the nicer bits (no one likes cutting hedges except very inadequate men – and yes I do know it’s a gross stereotype but it’s held true for me). So when my 83 year old friend suggests I should open the thing for charity on one of those afternoon sessions, I’m tempted.

Then she poor water on my enthusiasm by pointing out that everyone who visits is incredibly critical. Your edges must be trim and there must be a total lack of weeds: my garden never saw a trim edge or the back of campion and dandelions so perhaps it’s a non-starter. Alternatively I could just title it “Dry as a bone, lazy garden” and be up front about my limitations.

Since the conversation was somewhat downed by a comment along the lines of “But I probably won’t live to see it” from my very sprightly 83 year old friend, we lost a bit of momentum there: I’m not ready for my best mates to die of old age. No one said this intergenerational thing would be easy, but surely their part of the deal is to live forever?

Maybe it could become a project. We both love a good project and as a minimum it would involve sitting in the garden quite a lot with her giving excellent advice on how to get rid of weeds and sharpen my border edges. If she’s really unlucky, I might even serve her some lunch with one of my new recipes.

Autumn Bulbs List

Around twenty years ago I planted some red tulips near to the house. Every year come rain or shine they come back. I have gone through phases of hating them and have come full circle. This Autumn I shall plant them up with some clashing reds and oranges, maybe even dark dark purple.

If I have any spare I could use them to plant up some pots, though the troughs at the back should probably be white.

Meanwhile in the front of the garden the Angelique bulbs have grown well and put on a lovely show but they could probably do with a few darker bulbs dotted in amongst them, maybe tulip negrita which is not quite as short but not too far off.

The tulips in the iris bed have put on a good show, despite a very strange arrival (not ordered) instead of my china pinks. It looks like some kind of green/pink parrot.

So the collection looks good partly because of the colour combination but also the variation in height. The tall whites really stand out best but are just a little too tasteful for me.Anemones look like they might work as a border up by the roses at the back.

But underneath the hedge the little tulip saxatalis looked great, but next time I’d better start planting from the magnolia down towards the house to even things up.

The small white muscari haven’t really worked nearly as well. I’d consider planting woodruff but once it’s in, it will never be possible to get it out again, and I’m not really ready for a red tulip experience.

Now all I have to do is remember I’ve written it all down here, come the end of the Summer when it’s time to order the bulbs!

Home Security

After around 2 weeks, the home finally feels safe from the invader, SaggyPuss. I have no idea what his real name might be but he’s definitely a tom cat, an unfettered entirely un-snipped stinky tom-cat.

There is no bloody excuse in today’s world to have an un-neutered moggy running around causing smelly mayhem. Unfettered cats wander looking for mates. They pee all over everywhere to mark out their territory. They get into fights, catch STDs and generally die young. All set against free snips (local anaesthetics for the boys) from the RSPCA.

About two weeks ago I came downstairs opened the door to the living room and was met by the reek of tom cat spray. The bugger had come in through the cat flap and peed as high as possible into every corner and all along the curtains to the french doors.

My three dafties, presumably watched terrified perched on top of the piano, because that’s where I found them in the morning.

Having had two very elderly cats, we had a supply of cat urine “detergent” because the stuff requires specialist biological weapons to remove.

Cats have a high protein diet which makes their pee very concentrated. If they haven’t been snipped, then tom cats feel a need to mark out territory to assert themselves, and to re-visit and re-spray their highly concentrated pee on a regular basis. Not only the cats were traumatised at the thought.

Cat pee is a nightmare to get rid of. As it dries it forms crystals of urea acid which don’t smell, but every time it rains or gets a bit damp (this is London, so quite a lot) the crystals turn back to stinky urea. So you end up buying expensive biological detergent that effectively eats the pheromone markers in the cat pee and tries to dissolve the urea. It takes repeated soakings and it isn’t cheap.

Meanwhile you search every corner with a blue light looking for the tell-tale white-yellow glow of urine, in order to douse the walls with the cat detergent. The curtains had to be sent for dry-cleaning, after a good soak for the entire bottom quarter.

But then we were left with the conundrum of how to stop a repeat offence. Although the detergent suggests it actually repels the cat from coming back, our first post-event night made it clear that was more ambition than statement of fact. Cue blue light and more detergent into every corner.

The only answer was a new cat flap, one that would “read” our cats microchips to only allow them in or out. To be clear, a determined cat can break any cat flap by sheer scratching and heft. A microchip cat flap, like a burglar alarm, just encourages unwanted visitors to head next door.

Amazon next day delivery was required.

Cue one more day of blue light and cat pee detergent because of course stinky SaggyPuss was determined to break into the living room and my three cats were totally unable to repel the intruder.

After a while of wandering around with a blu flight and anxious sniffing of floorboards, curtains etc. you start to forget what smell you’re looking for and everything, absolutely everything including the cat detergent starts to remind you of cat pee. It’s when you’ve been out and come back in, take an anxious sniff and realise that the smell hasn’t disappeared after all that you realise you have reached cat rock bottom.

The new cat flap arrived and was unwrapped. Thanks to the useful comments on the website, I knew that the best way to introduce my chipped cats to the flap was pre-installation. The cat flap had to “learn” their microchip numbers, always assuming that they’re a compatible number. We’d lost their records (I know incompetent cat parent – sue me) so had to risk outright rejection from the start at a cost of around £80 per cat flap.

Clued in by the helpful hints, we put cat treats onto the horizontal cat flap door and let the cats eat from it like a bowl to get it to register their numbers. They were a bit freaked by the noise of the catch clicking open, but at least we were confident (sort of) that it would open for each of them.

Then came the usual DIY trauma in our house of fitting anything to something. It was supposed to be the same size as the original cat flap but it turned out not to be the same depth. Cue lots of huffing and puffing before the door was in the panel and ready for use.

Lots of cat sniffing but not much usage.

Turns out that cats have very different techniques for getting through a cat flap. The boy is a head-butter and very keen to get outside once it gets dark. We’ve never been sure why he’s so keen because he has to be the most feeble hunter ever. It is of course possible that there’s some kind of complicated double-bluff going on and the reason he rarely brings anything home is because he eats it on the way. But he’s really not that bright and certainly not very dextrous. The cat toys have to be waved about at a significantly slower pace for him to stand a chance of catching them.

So he had no problem getting in or out, once he’d got over the initial hesitation at the loud click of the catch releasing the flap.

Th youngest girl is more of a scrabbler. So her attempts to scratch open the door are not immediately successful but eventually, if inelegantly, she will shove her head close enough to trigger the catch and her paws are mostly pushing the flap at the time so she can get through.

The middle girl is just not that bothered. She’s more of a paw pusher than a head butter, and quite a cautious hunter. So she would look into the cat flap, trigger the catch and immediately pull back at the noise. Time and time again. The youngest daughter decided to “help” by judicious use of cat treats placed in the cat flap but it turns out that the cat is quite adept at reaching for cat treats paw first so that didn’t really work. After a couple of days she would just walk up to the cat flap and stretch out a paw for the treats – not quite with the programme.

Reading the instruction manual (better late than never) it instructs us to turn off the microchip recognition and just let all three use the cat flap as an open door.

But what about smelly Saggy Puss?

I would rather clear little trays each and every morning than deal with the gallons of cat pee that bugger introduced to my house in just one evening’s work. How bad can it be to just open the door and let her out each morning and evening?

So another coulee of days went by and she got used to being in at night and out most of the afternoon until eventually she made her own way in through the cat flap. And a couple of days later, she snuck out on her own as well.

It had taken quite a few days of cautious watching of her brother and sister before she could bring herself to trust in the machine, but we seem to have got there in the end.

We are safe from cat intruders, at last.

 

 

Supper

How do you decide what to cook for guests for supper?

We have two couples coming over for supper, a very English middle-class way of saying “dinner” with pretensions. One includes a south American with a taste for spice, whilst the other includes a man with an Indian mother. I am not going anywhere near cooking an Indian dish that his mother inevitably makes better. But I do fancy a bit of spice and at this time of year, crisp and cold weather suggests warming soups and stews.

I’m veering towards a butternut laksa dish, smooth coconut and comfort personified. It has a bit of heat but all wrapped up in a creamy buffer. The “soup” can be made a long time in advance with the butternut squash cooked ahead and added last minute, just to warm through. It has south east asian overtones but I’ll probably cook basmati as an accompaniment – there’s something incredibly reassuring about a rice that you can essentially add boiling water, cover with a lid and leave to its own devices for 10 minutes.

Once you’ve decided the central dish, the rest sort of looks after itself. I’ll make a side dish of spinach and coconut which is basically from an Indian cook book but goes so well with the laksa that no one will care. Again, the spice mix can be made ahead of time, and the spinach microwaved, so all that’s required is a quick stir fry just before serving.

And for desert I’m going to serve rhubarb and lychees in warm syrup with vanilla ice cream – make ahead and just heat through last minute.

But every meal should have some fiddly bits, so maybe I’ll add some chilli aubergine. Because the aubergine is deep fried, and my deep fat fryer is tiny, it will take quite a bit of time to fry the aubergine in batches. Once cooked, it can be served as it is or on a bed of noodles (is this too much with rice already on the table?)

I have korean chilli crackers for snacks and could knock up some kale crisps as well. The latter would make a decent garnish for the laksa.

But since I have a small hob and limited pans, the main question is whether I can fit everything on to cook.

  • Skillet- laksa
  • large saucepan – rhubarb and lychees (left to the side until after the main meal then warmed through)
  • medium saucepan – rice
  • small saucepan – aubergine chilli sauce/noodles if required
  • wok – spinach and coconut

And probably the trick to make it look decent is to have a number of garnishes pre-prepared at the side of the kitchen, so small sliced chillies, coriander leaf etc.

Visitors

The snow has fallen and kept falling. The cats are going stir crazy, kept sane only by the many visitors to the bird feeder.

As well as the usual blue tits, we’re seeing a regular nuthatch pair, and perhaps saddest of all a blackbird that keeps trying and failing to hop across to the caged feeder.

Food so close, yet so far

He gets relegated, along with the London pigeons to the ground beneath the feeder but he’s not the only one lurking around.

Hunting for food under the bird feeder

Maybe a nocturnal hunt for scraps beneath the feeders explains away the success of the cats bringing home mice. It’s not as if these cats are particularly clever or even sneaky.

Spotted

And whilst the fox has nothing to fear from the cats, the blackbird is altogether more vulnerable, to both cats and fox.

Unimpressed by the snow
Nuthatch

Much safer up in the trees away from the predators.

Cold Weather 

Privilege

One of my daughters is at university whilst the other will probably leave for university this September. I don’t like to think about the latter. I’m busy pretending to myself that my babies still live at home, whilst also, and in an entirely contradictory manner, congratulating them on growing into such wonderful women. But probably, by the end of the year, we will have two semi-adult, semi-independent children living away from home, and that costs money.

There is a debate at the moment about student fees in the UK. Changes in the way the UK finances tertiary education mean that we now have the most expensive undergraduate courses in the world.

University coasts break down into two component parts: fees for tuition and maintenance.

In England annual university fees are now £9250 a year. The loans are “owned” by a private company and the interest rate charged, which accrues from the minute that you first take out the loan, is around 6% making for a cost of more than £555 a year for the start of your course.

However large the loan is that you build up, let’s say £27,750 capital over three years plus interest accrued £3,465 by the end of a three year course i.e. £31,215, you will only start repaying it when you earn more than £21,000. repayment is charged through the UK payroll system of taxes (PAYE) at a rate of 9% pa. on top of the standard UK income tax rates. This additional tax is paid until either the loan is paid off or 30 years have passed, in which case any outstanding amount is written off.

So it’s an expensive business having children at university. When I consider the rather measly 6 hours contact time my eldest enjoys at university, the cost is only bearable when viewed as compensating or supplementing the 35+hours that her sister will require.

It costs roughly the same amount again for maintenance i.e. accommodation etc so in reality many children will end up with debts of around £60,000.

And since the loans are only repaid over a certain income threshold, and since many women will take a career break to have kids and return to work only part-time, a substantial proportion of the loan balance will never be repaid (around 45% of the total loan portfolio). This unpaid balance is building up, but ultimately will be the responsibility of the government ie. all tax payers, graduates or otherwise to repay.

We decided to pay for our children’s maintenance ourselves, and are obviously lucky enough to afford to do so. But we decided to encourage our daughters to take out a student loan for the fees. A number of friends find this decision incomprehensible with one going so far as to ask how we could do such a thing, having happily paid for our children to attend private schools as if they were one and the same issue.

Hmm.

In the UK we have seen a vast expansion of university places such that the number of children attending university has risen from around 20%  to 50% of the population. And that expansion has been funded largely by the rise in student fees. Calls to reduce or remove fees entirely, seem to ignore the consequence of cutting places for students to study. The country could not afford to pay for 50% of kids to attend to university if it was all paid for by central government.

And so you see a rise in the number of people suggesting that it would okay to restrict university places, because university should not be the be-all and end-all. University, apparently, is not right for everyone and we have gone too far in suggesting that it is.

My problem with this argument, is that it seems to be made mostly by people who have no doubt that their children will attend university, come what may. University may not be for everyone else’s kids, but it most definitely is the right place for their kids. other people’s kids can grow up to be plumbers and electricians. Their kids will grow up to be middle-managers, lawyers, doctors etc.

Because when people of my generation went to university, there was an obvious restriction on the number of places at university. And that had consequences. Most of the people I know now, went to very safe, very middle-class schools, private or grammar. Almost everyone they knew as kids went to university, and the idea that they were part of only 20% of the population doesn’t really ring true for them. I went to a very poor working class comprehensive state school. Out of a school year with around 180 pupils, around around 4 of us went to university. So whilst almost 100% of my middle class friends’ classes went to university, just 2% of my peers managed to make it to university.

Any suggestion that we should cut back on university places, inevitably means cutbacks for the working class, for the poorest amongst us.

So my children will take out student loans that will be expensive and unwieldy to pay back, because in part this will fund kids’ education who could not afford to attend university without a loans system.

They will also take out student loans, because at some level, knowing that they personally are paying for their university course, will hopefully encourage them to try and get the best value out of their course. It will give them some skin in the educational game.

Maybe.

I’m told that all young kids want to do is chill out and get pissed, that the loan is somethings they will simply write-off or ignore. It seems to me that some kids will be like this and some won’t. I’m hopeful that my kids have been raised with a greater sense of responsibility but also believe that times have changed and this generation of young people is incredibly more hard-working and focused than our generation ever was.

Either way it has nothing to do with paying private school fees which are absolutely indefensible from a moral societal perspective. People pay for private schools because they believe it will advantage their kids in some way, much as any other selection process within education privileges children. We paid for private education because we wanted both girls to attend single-sex schools, to be within a highly motivated, focused and quite narrow academic stream and obviously because we likes the additional facilities that mad wit easier for the kids to study and study well.

We had the money and were willing to spend it. Other people without the money, make different choices where they can such as sitting for competitive grammar schools etc. There is no moral high ground in terms of selective education.

& it would be stupid to pretend otherwise, I have voted and will continue to vote for a government willing to abolish all types of selective education, whether academic or faith. But whilst it’s available, we made use of the advantage it could offer our daughters.

And the privilege we are willing to offer our kids continues unabated. If my girls want to study for masters or doctorates because they’re enjoying their academic studies that much, then they’ll be able to do so, financed by the bank of mum and dad. If they want to live and work in London, we will help them do so again, financed by the bank of mum and dad.

& at the back of my mind is the knowledge that other people’s children don’t have those choices. The world of work is narrowing; the middle classes are contracting.  I want my girls to be happy but, like most parents, I need them to be safe first and foremost.

Because ultimately money is just a tool, a way to afford a life you want to live and we want to live close to our children and for them to be happy (in the hop that th two are not incompatible). Happiness wasn’t a factor in our decision making when we were younger. We had to earn money to live. Now that we have the money, I’d like my daughters to have broader choices, to have a safety net to catch them if those choices don’t work out.

Lists

This time of year might be one of cheer and goodwill, but it’s also a time for lists. By this time, my list has taken on either a hint of desperation or resignation, and the latter is far more soothing.

What will be, will be…

  • Write the final Christmas cards, usually for family, so fairly disastrous if they’re missing on Christmas morning;
  • Check the cupboards and fridge to make sure that all the required ingredients ordered were delivered and put away in a lace someone human would recognise. All that goodwill means there are plenty of hands willing to help put stuff away but it never seems to end up in the obvious place;
  • Make the mushroom risotto for tomorrow’s pie, and if you’re feeling good, think about making the pastry case also;
  • Consider knocking up a trifle, or maybe this year making 4 individual trifles in glasses because the trifle bowl is vast, we never get through it all and it takes up a huge amount of space in the fridge;
  • Dress the table ie. wrap it in some festive paper and make it look cheerful. Do not put out a cloth for the cats to trash with muddy footprints;
  • Plan tomorrow’s campaign.

Every family has some traditions they’ve inherited from their parents and some they’ve made all on their own. Our kids have been brought up with a stack of them, in part because I had so few. Christmas wasn’t exactly a non-event, but it certainly wasn’t as memorable as most seem to be.

We wake up Christmas Day and gather in the parents bedroom. Settled with a coffee, the kids open up the presents in their Christmas stockings which tend to be small and trivial but still get the day off to a good start.

Usually, there are pancakes for Christmas breakfast, whilst the preparation of the meal gets going with vegetables peeled (potatoes, parsnips, carrots) and the first two parboiled ready for roasting.

The first, main round of present opening happens post-breakfast and pre-church.

The local church service starts at 10:30 and finishes at around12ish with a glass of prosecco at the back of the nave.

Back home, and the oven is warm having been turned on by timer, and the vegetables can go into the over to roast. If we’re aiming for “lunch” at around 2pm, it means potatoes to roast in oven by 1pm, parsnips shortly thereafter, with the pie going in at 1:30.

The sprouts go onto boil for 5 minutes at around that time because they are drained and pan-fried with chestnuts just before serving. The carrots are put onto boil at about 1:45 and can be drained and fried with some honey or maple syrup with a dash of lemon.

There should be some cranberry sauce left over from topping the pie, plus some bread sauce heating up in the microwave. & hopefully someone else is laying the table in the dining room.

We have trifle for desert but everyone is far too full to eat it so we mainly retire to the living room for some telly.

Each to their own.

Wishing everyone a very happy Christmas!

Bulbs

The problem with ordering your bulbs early is that when they finally arrive, you’ve forgotten what you planned to do with them all. This is somewhat compounded by waiting for six new bare root roses to be delivered so I could plant them all up in the new bed.

In theory this new bed comprises:

  • a row (or two) or blue iris, primarily Yosemite star, just planted with some stragglers from pots and described as “Yosemite Star. Blended blue wisteria self. Ruffled. Mid to late season ie. around May Strongly remontant throughout summer and autumn. Ht. 90cm“, and behind;
  •  one row of white David Austin shrub roses, Susan Williams-Ellis described as “extremely healthy with an exceptionally long flowering season. Charming, pure white, rosette-shaped flowers of Old Rose beauty. Strong Old Rose fragrance. Exceptionally long flowering season (June-August). Extremely tough, healthy and hardy.” growing to a height of around 90cm (3ft)

Plus whatever bulbs I fancy planting in amongst them.

Apparently, bearded Irises must enjoy full sun and sharp drainage. They disdain the miseries of shade and clay. Interplant Bearded Irises with plants with scanty foliage: alpine pinks, late flowering alliums….

I have already received and planted up some crocus, white muscari, small repeat tulips ( saxatilis bakery) along underneath a hedge, but set the alliums (Mount Everest X 10, Allium aflatunese ‘Purple Sensation’ X 10) and fritellaria (X50) to one side.

Now I have a mammoth bulb session ahead of me with these plus tulips, gladioli (The Bride) and some scilla siberica (X75).

Type:                            Name:          Flowers:                               Thoughts:

  • Gladioli  x50  – The Bride   – May              -60cm   – roses
  • Allium    x10      Mt Everest-June/July   -90cm   – roses
  • Tulip     x25 Angels Wish    -May               – 60cm  – White new bed
  • Tulip     x25 Queen Night  -May                – 60cm  – Black, new bed
  • Tulip     x20 Survivor            -May                – 60cm  -pink,    new bed
  • Tulip    x 40 Shirley               – April               -50cm  – White new bed
  • Tulip      x35 Angelique        -Apr                 -45cm   – Pink    new bed
  • scilla       x75      Alba               -Mar/Apr     – 6cm     – in front of iris
  • Fritellaria x50 Alba               – Apr/May    – 30cm – in amongst of iris

  • Tulip     x25 Queen Night  -May                – 60cm  – Black, back bed
  • Allium    x10      Afflat.           – May/June  -80cm  – back bed roses
  • Tulip      x35 Angelique        -Apr                 -45cm   – front garden
  • Tulip     x25 Angels Wish    -May               – 60cm  – White for shade
  • Tulip     x10 Apeldoorn       -May                – 60cm  – Scarlet, front bed

rose&2alliums pattern

x    //    x     //   x    //   x   //    x    //    x

I’m going to treat the gladioli like summer flowering tulips, planting the corms deep (10cm) to try to reduce the need to stake. They arrive before the roses with the iris so I’m thinking I’ll plant them as a dos between roses and iris and see what happens.

Choices

My youngest daughter is sitting her A levels next Summer, which means that she has to apply to university around about now. And the first step in making any kind of decision is obviously to look at the subjects being studied at A level and choose a degree subject.

All my friends seem to have children (boys) of the same age and they’re all studying the same subjects: Maths, Physics and Chemistry so we’re all in the same camp. A few, like my girl, are studying further maths as a fourth subject but in the UK university offers are made on the basis of three subjects so it shouldn’t make any difference, in theory.

Of course in practice, studying further maths is extremely useful if you are planning to study Maths at university. Since Further Maths allows you to study more modules, including mechanics, it’s also very useful for any Engineering degree which was the main alternative to Maths that my baby considered.

One friend’s boy chose Chemistry as a degree subject quite early on, where as another two boys settled on Maths. There is a huge variation in the grade requirements for these subjects. Chemistry grade requirements at Imperial College, a world class university range from A*AA whilst a second tier university ie. part of the recruitment drive of the major professional companies such as Bath might make offers from AAB. requirements for Maths at the same universities would be A*A*A (Imperial) and A*AA(Bath).

Because nowadays Mathematics is a very popular subject whereas straight sciences are less so.

After sitting her AS exams we headed into the Summer holidays within clear view as to what subject she would want to study at university and that’s important because during those holidays you are expected to draft a personal statement of around 4,000 words saying why you want to study your university course.

Mathematics is quite different to Engineering and at some level you’d imagine it was an easy choice as a result but the problem of course is that Maths is a known quantity where as Engineering is not. It isn’t even one single subject. So why would she be interested anyway?

Her school has encouraged placements in different workplaces and my girl has now had two in Civil Engineering companies one of which has been incredibly kind to her, incredibly welcoming and helpful. So maybe an interest in Civil Engineering is understandable.

Mathematics versus Engineering?

There isn’t much difference in the grade requirements from various universities. Once on the course, there is quite a difference between the hours of study with Maths degrees typically requiring 10 hours contact time compared to Engineering degrees with 30-40 hours mainly because of the extra time spent on practicals. And with one child studying English (12hours a week contact) I am not fooled into thinking these courses are “easier”. If anything, it is very much down to the type of student, as to whether they can cope with so much time unsupervised. It can be isolating having so little time with other students on the course.

There are many other types of engineering and the basic course would probably be regarded as Mechanical Engineering. As she veered towards choosing Engineering we had to look through the courses listed very carefully to try and identify more general degree courses. And then there is the 3year BEng. versus a 4yearMEng. degree course. to consider.

So she’s made her choice, and decided that she might as well apply to Oxford though the odds are very long because the Engineering course sounds wonderful. And the personal statement is written on that basis.

We are where we are, moving forwards with the decisions. The only thing learned from doing this for a second time, is to allow the child to lead the way. This choice must be their choice and should, in so far as possible, be for a subject that they can love. My daughter and her friends who have chosen a subject they love are having a brilliant time, even if the university isn’t great. Where the course is not great, even the best social life at university struggles to redeem the situation.

Rotator

The rotator arrived, late, on the Friday and looked like a real beast of a machine. Digging out a new flower bed for roses and iris was always going to be a nightmare and the rotavator was supposed to make that job just a little bit easier.

On Saturday I headed out for some tennis and he decided to give it a go. By the time I got back he was looking sick and dispirited. The bed remained virtually uncut.

It turns out that the kind of rotator that can be hired is a piss poor type of machine when it comes to cutting new ground, especially hard ground. It essentially just skins along the top scratching the turf up but not able to dig or cut into the ground itself. Just holding the beast was difficult. Forcing it down into rock hard turf was impossible.

The beats was retired and we proceeded to dig the bed the old fashioned way with fork and spade. It was hard and horrid work but more or less complete by the end of the weekend. The initial scripting of turf means the bed is full of grass remains so even though it’s now covered up and hopefully rotting down, it will clearly keep appearing in the bed for years to come.

Ho hum.

We’ll plant up in September/October and see how things grow.