L’estate sta finendo

Credo che l’estate, almeno qui nelle terre di mezzo, sia gia’ finita; alle 04:30 e’ si gia’ chiaro ma con ancora una spolverata della notte ancora presente, l’ aria e’ fresca e io sento odire di cannella emele al forno, di crostate di marmellata. Ho comprato un barattolo di Rigoni ai mirtilli neri con la speranza mi ricordi le mie belle marmellate di mirtilli Fiumalbine…dentro di me invece e’ inverno da mesi.

I believe that summer, at least here in the middle lands (England), is already over; at 04:30 it is already clear but with a dusting of the night still present, the air is fresh and I can sense, already, the smell of baked cinnamon and apples or jam tarts. I bought a jar of Rigoni jam, with blueberries hoping it will reminds me of my beautiful Fiumalbine blueberry jams … inside me,instead, it has been winter for months.

I was thinking

Tags

Domestic violence, fairy tales, family, kids, love, relationships

I was thinking after reading a blog where a girl, is talking about her mum who dies of Aids when she was 17, who was victim of domestic violence, I was thinking about the famous “Once upon a time” why not, why not starting like this it seems very fairy tale, very dreaming, romantic… Once upon a time. The reality is when is that a woman stopped imagine, dreaming, thinking, it would be a fairy tale although for me this doesn’t mean everything perfect and beautiful and reassuring no. Nowadays I think ” the happily ever after” is just be sure to woke up next to someone’s feeling the same for you, someone who knows what you want, what you dream, the famous shoulder you can rely whenever you need that Shoulder or even better that anticipate your need and will be there, and will tell you to do not worry that everything will be fine.

Instead half of the time we think we found it and we are wrong. I m not saying that has to be a violent person or that makes you live in fear but probably what you saw once have vanished, when you were dreaming ok he his the one who even make me consider the idea of getting married, then pretty soon, something have been said or done and you are put back on your feet and your feelings are a bit bruised, and thinking thank God I m not married.

What is that push a man to become a monster sometimes, is the lack of love they had when they were little, it all begins from there? Is the wrong path they have chosen while growing. I couldn’t stop myself reading this blog, and cry and feel sorry for this woman who thought she never deserved to be loved, who become HIV positive, because of her previous partner, the father of her daughter, who saw her mum been verbally abused and shamed in front of her, because someone was make her feeling worthless. He cannot be the love that doesn’t make you react against this men is the fear. From outside we are capable of saying “I will never let him do this… Say that… Act like this” the reality instead is another a very sad one.

You are not waiting for a change, but you stop to be that person who you always dreamed of, that person that cuddles in the middle of the road just for the sake of a cuddle, like when your son stops and says “mummy a cuddle please” just a cuddle, holding your hands, having a non planned lunch or coffee out, it’s seems all so distant so far away.

When this happened and why this happened? Should you talk about this, should you keep for yourself. You wondering does he feels the same, why he never talks to me, why he never says something nice to me or helping me out instead of talking to me like I am the slave in our own house.

How many relationships go through ups and downs, and why some of them end in violence which make your own kids beign witness of something they should never see, feel, hear. How many couples after having kids, but even without them get tired of eachother and why they don’t break up? Why sometimes women, although fiercy become a sort of submissive ones?

It is definitely not because they are scared of being alone, I think personally sometimes it’s better be alone, struggle a bit and then reborn, rather than keep living in just an unhappy relationship. At the same time women feel they need to try everything and carry on because that little dream of a fairy tale will be always in their head.

I always thought of myself as a warrior and I think I am, I m glad in my life I never had to become a victim or make my son be the witness of something so bad. I wish to this girl who is writing because she needs to talk about how lovely was her mum anyway, how even if they were poor she was always caring for her but she made bad choices and life wasn’t easy towards her, dying at 34 because someone who said loved you passed you a deadly desease as aids is.

We are lucky to be in the right side of the path, hoping that nothing will ever happen to us like this.

What colours are my feelings.

I m tired. That tiredness that is a mixed up of feelings, dreams, fears, exhaustions. Mild depression? Maybe, maybe not. I m not used to label myself, I don’t want to be labeled but the reality is that inside I cry for 24hrs or even days, outside I am jolly be good, bit moody and sad but just when nobody can see. It’s Friday. Another Friday identical of the week before, the month before, the year before maybe this is the reason why I’m everything but pink or yellow colours that for me means relax and happiness.

Today I will also find out where my son will go to school in September and I am devastated at the idea, I know is a normal stage of him growing, but he is my baby, not even 4 yrs old yet and he will start school in September. I am feeling grey well maybe more camouflage green.

The good thing is that nothing is black I can see through but it’s like having a stone on my chest and I cankot breath. I have never been worried about my son before like I m now.

I will be fine. It will be fine.

Monday grumpy, moaning Monday.

Tags

feta, hype, influencers, Instagram, rant, tiktok, Tomatoes

It’s Monday yeaa it’s Monday the enphasys it’s just pure and simple sarcasm, there is nothing to be hyp about it. Is Monday no matter we are in lockdown, which in all honesty seems like the “new normality” and this feeling is scary, because not having the freedom to go, plan, orgsnize, kiss and cuddle friends and family is very sad especially because when we will go back to “that normality” that all of a sudden have been taken away from us leaving us scared of everything?

Anyway this post is not about Covid-19, vaccine or anything related, because there are more than enough people talking about it, that I m not going to be the next. This small, hopefully, post or morning rant is about how “something” goes viral. Who and why all of a sudden something you ate and never thought it was going to become fashion it is now.

Welcome to the rant about “baked tomatoes and feta” pasta.

So feta cheese is one of my favourite, maybe because I m Mediterranean, I am Italian, maybe because is salty and the tangy taste is very very yummy or maybe simply because I think is just a nice cheese, however the thing is love feta, like this, with tomatoes, with courgette, with eggs just love it. Simply crumbled in my tomatoes and origano salad, or just on toast, or with pasta. Here we are my version is boiled spaghetti tossed in the tomatoes salad raw, no baked. Simple, easy, fast.

Now God knows how did happened but all this Instagram TikTok influencers are talking and showing this “baked tomatoes and feta” like if it is the new Holy Grail. Seriously? Why? When? And here we are with pictures, ideas, polls only because someone somewhere in the World posted for the very 1st time on TikTok a tray with feta and loads of tomatoes around.

Baked tomatoes & Feta cheese

I find irritating all this, is because I am middle aged woman going grumpy? There are other people that feels the same? What is going to be the new hype with no reason to be a hype?

Ok that’s all. Have a good rainy Monday, at.least in UK.

Dream a little dream

Tags

Dream, life

I am a dreamer, I always been and always will be. I am 42 years old, soon 43, I have a son, unfortunately only one, I wish I met his father earlier to have at least 2, 4 would have been perfection.

I always dreamed to be a mother, my dolls were my babies, I had an imaginary friend and baby when I was a child, but then I thought it would never happened until I was 39 years old.

I often imagined, as a child, the day I would get married. That was before deciding that no, I would never get married. But that’s another story.

Often my dreams collide with reality. There is little to do this is it, I take refuge, often when I wake up at night, in my dreams like when I was a child, it is a way to preserve my mind, my unconscious, my soul. I cut out moments in which life, as Vasco Rossi, an Italian singer says, “When life was easier and you could also eat strawberries, because life is a thrill that flies away. It’s all a balance over madness above madness.”

Everything is a question of balance and sometimes it takes very little for it to falter, like when you walk suspended on a thread and think you are falling.
Never show your weaknesses, tears, grief, the famous poker face. You swallow the bitter morsel, it could be work related, a betrayal, words said on purpose to hurt you, you swallow the pain because even if it is not good, you will never give to others the satisfaction of showing your pain, your tears, your delusion and disappointment. There is not even point to talk because they will not understand you and your feelings. So like when you were a child, when you are alone, when the house is asleep and there is silence, you dream that something, not everything is different, easier more than different, because being an adult is tiring and sucks. And soul get peace.

Then there is the wonder you see in your son’s eyes for simple things, like a stone for example, to put in the tractor and carry it around or when he gives you those sweet kisses and tells you “I love you mummy”, this is one of my dreams, the Dream that has come true, but that also brings with it concerns for the future, because that dream is everything for you.

It is a period of profound turmoil, of sadness, of fear. Fear of not being able to go back to having a pre-Covid-19 life.
Fear of not having time to go home, 2 hours and 45 minutes flight, but no matter what you will never be in time, and this thought is digging deep inside my head.
Time is a dream, time is a luxury that today’s life does not allow us to have.
I dream to live in an isolated house in the countryside, a brick house that looks like my house in the mountains, where I spent my childhood and also my adult life. The smell of the fireplace, the dog’s barking, the crowing of the rooster, simplicity, the cold autumn with the fireplace lit, the snow crunching, while walking under your feet. Sometimes I dream of this, living in the countryside, with dogs and animals, a kitchen where is always working, and I m cooking . I will keep dreaming because my soul rests and relaxes.

I could carry on and on writing all my dreams that help me, what will make me happier and give me joy but would ended up of boring you to death.

Just one the last one, a game that now I try to play with my son. When I was little, 6 or 7yrs old and used to go to my parents bed to have my mum reading for me, in the winter and fascinated by the Orient Express, I used to ask mum to play the game that her bedroom was a vagon lit, and we were travelling around the world, she would have read me something and I would fell asleep…

“Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me. Say “Night-ie night” and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me
While I’m alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me”

Chissà

Scrivo ormai talmente poco, che spesso mi chiedo che senso abbia avere un blog. Prima, parlo quando ancora il mio blog era su splinder (bonanima) scrivevo tutti i giorni o quasi. Era anche il periodo boom di Sex & the City, e quindi si cazzarava sul blog, scrivendo cose a senso e non.

Ora per dire posso scrivere tranquillamente in inglese eppure lo facci raramente. Perché? Boh forse perché molti potrebbero leggere e capire e a volte scrivere nel mio, ormai quasi dimenticato, italiano mi serve da scudo per i cazzi miei, vabbé che con Google translate possono tradurre.

Vabbe sto scrivendo di getto perché sono giorni che ho un magone, un magone e un dolore dentro che devo tenere per me, perché ma come te ridi e sorridi sempre, sei sempre “serena” e invece no. Io ho momenti, giorni, no. Non si può piangere, primo perché piangere davanti al mio bimbo che mi chiede “are you OK mummy” mi sembra super sbagliato poi perché se seguissi le lacrime probabilmente piangere per una settimana, fino a quando mi fanno male i bulbi, mi tira la pelle intorno agli occhi, ho il naso chiuso, mi fanno male i polmoni e la testa pulsa. Ecco questo è il livello di dolore che ho, il bisogno di sfogare che sento e che tengo per me. Da qualche parte devo sfogarlo, lo faccio qui senza andare nel profondo e spiegare perché sto male. Ecco ammettilo Serena, sto male, vorrei stare a letto e commiserarmi finché non ho raggiunto il fondo e sono pronta ad alzarmi. Invece lo farò sommessamente, quando non mi sente e vede nessuno e il logorío lo sentirò nello stomaco.

Fanculo.

Sensi di colpa

Sono le 6pm, fra un paio d’ore vado a casa, Rafael starà probabilmente dormendo. Da quando è nato io vivo in un limbo dorato, pieno di sole, sempre,anche quando piove. Non sempre è facile, soprattutto perché siamo stanchi, perché il lavoro ci fa scazzare, discutiamo per stupidaggini, io sbrocco facilmente, ma pure prima ero così, ad ogni modo, non importa quante volte per notte mi alzi, o come una volta messo nel lettone con noi, tu dorma beato e giri come un un’orologio riempiendoci di calci, per ovvio e banale che sia a me va bene così, io se potessi di figli ne farei altri e altri e altri, se potessi me ne starei a casa e non mi sentirei triste e sconsolata, della carriera me ne frega nulla, ho un lavoro che mi ha sempre fatto star bene, non mi sentirei “svalutata”, le mie giornate sarebbero piene di sorrisi e risate, salti nel lettone, ninne insieme, capricci, pianti disperati, coliche,cacche, nasi mocciolosi. Quando mi prendi la mano e dici “vieni” battendola per terra, perché vuoi che mi sieda e giochi con te mi si spacca il cuore, e giochiamo, giochiamo quando dici tuuufff brush (tooth brush) e poi te lo prendi da solo, quando dici maccnina e ridi, oh la tua risata Rafael, dovrei registrarla e riascoltarla quando mi viene la malinconia di te, come oggi che piangevi disperato perché andavo a lavoro, nonostante fossi con papà. Attaccato alla mia gamba “mamma mummymummy” ecco io, vorrei tanto poter stare con te 24 su 24, anche se poi ho bisogno di spazio per me, vorrei poter essere libera di dire fanculo non lavoro più e me ne resto a sfornare torte, ma non si può stellina mia, o forse dovrei essere più coraggiosa. L’abbandono è quello che pensi ogni volta che esco dalla porta, abbandono, fortuna pioveva quando sono uscita perché mi son fatta un pianto da casa alla fermata. Vorrei fermare il tempo.

Baking time: dairy and egg free chocolate cake.

I love bake, is not a secret. From cakes to biscuits or pizza, pies. I found kneading the dough extremely relaxing and therapeutic, sometimes my friends ask me how I managed, even when Rafael was little, to cook and bake, at that time I used to do it while he was sleeping, which was most part of the day, now while he plays in the garden. I didn’t find be a mum an impediment to cook, plus I m not nor my husband’s the ready made, microwave food type of people. Which sometimes will be much easier is not good.

I am not a vegetarian or vegan nor a dairy or eggs intolerant just a woman, mum who likes to cook and experiment, this is why I baked this dairy and egg free one.

Plus when sometimes you want a cake but you don’t have one of this ingredient or is rainy and you don’t wat to go out to buy them, here it comes easy and simple and taste delicious.

Yesterday I forgot to take a pic once was ready so here a slice of my eggs and dairy free chocolate cake. Raf loves it.

---

300 g Flour 00
320 ml of warm water
200 g Sugar I drop to 150gr cause I like it bitter
90 ml Seed Oil
60 g Bitter Cocoa Powder
1 packet of yeast for cakes or 2teaspoon or 14gr
Icing Sugar to dust

Preparation

Put the warm water in a bowl, add the sugar and mix until the sugar dissolve. Add the cocoa powder and whisk to be sure there is no lumps use for few minutes your blender add the oil and mix again.
In another bowl put the flower and yeast sifted and start to add the liquid whisk with an electric one. Mix well until and pour the dough into a donut-shaped mold greased and floured dusted with a diameter of 20 – 22 cm. Or any mold you like 😊

Bake at 180 degrees for 40 – 50 minutes. Before taking out, check if it is perfectly cooked inside with a toothpick If the toothpick comes out dry, then the cake is ready.

Dust wit icing sugar and is ready to go. If you want to be naughty put some baileys on top

Ahoy Hastings Pirate Day

So yesterday was the big celebration 10 years of Pirate’s Day.

If you don’t leave on the coast, Hastings is a lovely southern seaside town. During the summer is animated by events one after the other I would say.

Last week we had the beer festival, yesterday the Pirates.

2 years ago my mother was here because I was due to have my son and she came and stayed with us for 2 months. Heavily pregnant, living in my birkenstock I walked down and brought her to enjoy the day, and she truly did.

Yesterday I went in town with my nearly 2yrs old son, he wasn’t dressed up and I knew there was not point cause all he wanted and did was to play in the playground running up and down, sliding from the slide and going upupup with the swing. He was happy and this is what does count, what’s the point to let him be moody in the pushchair just for strolling I the busy old town.

I will suggest to come and enjoy if you live nearby it is very nice, all the music, the make up people apply on themself, the shows of live bands and if it is a good day meaning sunny or just cloudy without showers well is an absolute pleasure.

This are not my pictures but from the Facebook page of Hastings Old Town Traders.

More pictures on this link https://photornia.com/hastings-pirate-day-2019-gallery/

Rain rain go away…

Tags

east Sussex mum, england, food, holiday, lifestyle withal toddler, meatballs, rain

Today officially mark Bruno first day of 1 week annual leave, although I couldn’t manage to have the same time off, I took 1 day as leave, when you going back to work as a part time looks like you have more holidays, anyway the idea was to go out in town or just catching the southern and go following our heart and the train stops. The forecast weather clearly had other ideas and it is an annoyingly rainy day, which with a toddler will get complicated, he will get bored of indoors football with daddy or sliding from mummy knees or drawing lines with the crayons on the paper and on the old wooden tv unit, yes we let him do it, was second hand and not anymore in good condition and actually he is now his toy “box” stand to reach the window exercise block you name it he found a use for so who cares.

So after breakfast I though, maybe, maybe, could be a good idea prepping for dinner which will be meatballs in tomatoes sauce and for supper pizza.

While Rafael was sleeping I prepared the dough very easy

1. 250gr of plain flour
2. 1 tsp of salt
3. 1/2 tsp of sugar
4. 1 tsp of instant dried yeast
5. 60gr of vegetable oils
6. 120gr of luke warm water

It is a very easy fast dough you can use it straight away without waiting to rise or like I do I let it rise. On the top I just use or cherry tomatoes or a mix of vegetables ribbons like carrots, courgettes thin onions slice or with potatoes.

Looks like that at 3pm there will be a truce and we might be able to walk out the house. Finger crossed.