supermarket short-circuit

I'd been putting it off for a while, but last week bravely took the decision to venture (with the boys) into a supermarket. Not just any supermarket, but a Tesco Extra supermarket*. Tesco Extra is a new feature to my life. I hadn't appreciated quite just how large they are. Nor how many things that you haven't come to buy you have to pass until you get to what you want to buy.

Aisles and aisles of children's toys later (and having frisked the children to make sure they had put everything that they had picked off the shelves back onto the shelves) we were hunting down some cheese. We had found the appropriate aisle easily enough and everyone was looking for the cheese. We had even found the cheddar cheese fairly easily, although I was getting a bit dazed by the vastness of the cheese section. The problems started as I tried to find some plain old medium cheddar cheese in a normal sized packet. Super healthy living never seen an ounce of fat cheese, no problem. Vegan cheese, check. Organic cheese, check. Vegan organic cheese no problem. Super matured cheese, yup. Cheese with bits of fruit in, I could have bought you that. In fact, I was more likely to be able to buy oak casket matured, cranberry infused, maple syrup drizzled cheese that could dance a waltz and remember your mother in laws birthday than I was to find a normal size block of medium cheddar cheese.

I couldn't take it. The longer it took to find the cheese the more stressed I got and I could feel the circuits in my brain fusing. I simply couldn't cope with the array of choice available to me. Rather than being liberating, the ability to choose exactly what I wanted, I found it stressful. If there is an ability to choose exactly what you want then you need to work out what exactly that is. And then you have to find it. I think I'll be sticking to the smaller supermarkets for a bit.

*the urge to write 'not just any supermarket but an M&S supermarket' was almost uncontrollable. I'm still humming the jingle.

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Totally forgot to mention earlier because I have the brain the size of a pea with holes in - the latest Best of British Mummy Bloggers Carnival is ready to go and has been for a while now... Those fancying more tales of nappies, poo and feeding times at the zoo with children should head on over to Being a Mummy for entertainment.

food, glorious food

When I was in Bosnia thinking about coming back to the UK, I spent most of my time thinking about what I was going to eat. In general the food in Bosnia is good and usually uses fresh locally sourced ingredients. The cuisine consists of predominantly stews, pies and pizza, with fantastically good ice cream making an appearance in the summer.

But, being British, I'm used to a much wider range of choice. Our history has meant that alongside our own domestic cuisine, we are able to commonly eat Italian, French, Spanish, Chinese, Indian and Thai food, with Jamaican, Ethiopian, Vietnamese and any other country you care to name also available if you look a little harder. In Bosnia, I found myself missing the variety of tastes and flavours.

Since I got back I haven't stopped eating. Combined with a couple of weddings and an inability to say no to a good glass of champagne, it doesn't feel as if I have stopped drinking either. The end result, I'm feeling very bloated and like I have been celebrating Christmas at the wrong time of year. I'll be rolling back to Bosnia many kilos heavier and in need of a diet.

An English Summer

On our short trip back, I'm finding that I've become more English than ever in my time in Bosnia. We've spent our afternoons eating fish and chips watching the village cricket match on the green. We've gone to the beach in the Isle of Wight and played french cricket, built sandcastles and eaten ice cream caked in sand. At the end of the afternoon, just as the sun was radiating its most golden light across the sea we sat in front of the beach hut, drinking tea and eating lemon drizzle cake. I've even thought about a little dip, but the sea looks a little too grey for my liking. We've paddled, we've poked around rock pools with a shrimping net. We went to back to our home city and watched the trains fly past, fed the ducks and had a terrific time in the playground. We've seen a few old friends and I was surprised and a little relieved to watch the boys play with their old friends as if they had never been away.

Combined with having the most lovely time has been the most beautiful weather possible. Gentle sunshine, hot but not unbearably so, a feeling of freshness echoed by the vibrant greens of the trees and spring flowers.

We miss Dave though. He must be in Bosnia for a further 2 weeks before he too can sample fish and chips and talk about cricket with someone apart from me (and my knowledge is pretty limited). We enjoy ourselves, but the boys ask after him all the time and I would love to have him here with us. I could talk to him about how wonderful our home country is when I have the outsiders rose tinted glasses on. By the time he gets here, I'll be moaning about the traffic, price of petrol and the economy like everyone else.

A green and pleasant land

We're back. The journey wasn't as bad as I feared, there was no vomiting, I had help from the magical calm and serene granny who arrived in Budapest as scheduled and we made it back to England without any major mishaps.

Since then there has been a feasting of sights, tastes and events. I have never seen the boys eat so much. Weetabix (I'd forgotten about Weetabix!), sausages, blueberries and Innocent Smoothies all disappearing at speeds unheard of. I've been indulging in my secret vice of really good white wines which send shivers of pleasure down my spine. The local white wine we drink in Bosnia, Krstic, is fine, really it is, but it isn't good. And if you are going to drink white wine I always think it best to make it good white wine.

We took the boys to a playground this afternoon. It was pouring with rain but that didn't dampen the spirits. The boys couldn't believe their luck - a playground without nails sticking out of the equipment, trains that ran past every couple of minutes, planes in the sky. All this excitement at once. I normally have to ration it out to keep the afternoons filled up.

As Luke swung higher and higher on the toddler swing (he hasn't been in one of those for a very long time) he was so excited.

- Mummy? (as the rain dripped off the end of his nose)

- yes darling?

- my habin a lubly time

- Me too Lukey. Me too.