Hot Cross Mum

Very Ferry Good!

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Tue, 01 May 2012 13:25:00 +0000

View from the bridge - 'I'm flying Jack', (and all that)

The last time I was on a ferry, I was a sulky teenager who wasn't looking forward to a week on the Isle of Man with her parents, let alone the prospect of travelling there on something resembling a fishing trawler from Deadliest Catch. That was 24 years ago. Things have changed. Ferries have changed - significantly! Having just returned from a weekend break to North Wales, crossing the Irish Sea with Stena Line ferries, I am a ferry convert. Here's five reasons why.

The whole layout of the ferries is much more comfortable and stylish than I had expected, or remembered.The seating areas are lounge style, movies play on plasma TVs and there are Curious George playrooms for younger children. It all just felt clean, calm and relaxing.
There is free Wi-Fi access and of course you can use your phone as much as you want.
You can take as much luggage as you want in your car, and leave everything - other than essentials - in the car during the crossing. Spare coats, wellies, hats - throw it all in without worrying about the weight.
To be able to get back into your car and drive off towards your hotel at the other side is infinitely more appealing than baggage carousels, passport control, bus/taxi transfers from the airport, or the prospect of queuing at the car hire desk with tired, fidgety children.
The crossing from Dublin Port to Holyhead took about 3 and a half hours. Although it seems a long time when compared to a flight, it was all very relaxing and there was plenty to do to keep the kids entertained both out on deck spotting land ahoy and on the ferry itself.

Driving onto the ferry (the ferry is the BIG boat)

The added extras

The private family cabin - swanky

As guests of Stena Line we were given upgrades to StenaPlus (usually costs €18 per person to upgrade) which gives access to a private lounge, complimentary drinks, snacks and newspapers. We were also given use of a private family cabin which comes complete with plasma TV, Playstation, ensuite bathroom with shower, more drinks and snacks and a nifty coffee machine. Although great fun, I'm not sure the additional charge (up to £50) for the private cabin would be worth it for this short crossing, but for a longer one it could be money well spent. We also got to go up to the bridge to meet the Captain, which was a great experience for the boys!

Plenty of space to run on the decks

The hotel
Our hotel, Seoint Manor, in Snowdonia was a Stena Line recommended hotel. It was absolutely lovely. The staff were friendly and helpful, the breakfasts and evening meals were delicious and the accommodation and facilities were ideal. Although we were only there for one and a half days, there is plenty in the area to keep young children entertained. Caernarfon Castle was fantastic and a drive through the stunning Snowdonia National Park has us tempted to go back with our walking gear.

The conclusion
Having flown regularly with the children between Ireland and the UK, I can honestly say that taking the ferry was definitely the most stress-free journey we've had for a long time. I do think the StenaPlus lounge* helped - particularly on the return trip which was quite a rough crossing. The use of a portable DVD player for the kids, the novelty factor of helping themselves to drinks from the fridges and that little bit of extra privacy, definitely took their minds off the old heave ho! *The StenaPlus lounge on the Stena Adventurer was a lot larger than on the Stena Nordica and could, if very busy, take away a little from the 'VIP' factor.

All in all, I was very impressed with Stena Line - in terms of the ferry itself, the staff, the facilities on board and quality of refreshments - there was really nothing to find fault with. If we are planning a holiday to the UK or France in future, we will definitely look at the ferry as a viable travel option. As Dom Joly says in the new Stena Line ad campaign: take a Car-cation. You might be pleasantly surprised!

We travelled out on the Stena Nordica and back on the Stena Adventurer. For a family of 4 (2 adults and 2 children under 16), plus our car, our trip would have cost around €300 for economy fare. At the moment, Stena Line have a 'Bring a friend for free' offer - book by 8th May and travel before 30th May. Details about this offer can be found on the website. For more information, visit www.stenaline.ie

Disclaimer: Our return ferry crossing, StenaPlus upgrade and accommodation at the Seoint Manor hotel were provided by Stena Line. All opinions about the trip are my own.

Why do I read? World Book Night 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Mon, 23 Apr 2012 09:16:00 +0000

Tonight is World Book Night, 2012 when a million books will be given away for free to spread the joy and love of reading. April 23 is a symbolic date for world literature. It is both the birth and death day of Shakespeare, as well as the death day of Cervantes, the great Spanish novelist. It is in their honour that UNESCO appointed it the international day of the book and that we choose it to celebrate World Book Night.

As one of 20,000 volunteers who are distributing copies of the specially selected 'World Book Night' books, I clearly love reading. But why? What do I read and why do I pick up those books and forget about everything else as I immerse myself in their wonderful stories?

For me, I read, quite simply, for pleasure. I read to immerse myself in lives, situations and events I haven't experienced - or possibly even considered - before. I read to broaden my perspective on life and to learn about parts of our history which I know nothing about. I also read to learn from the experts, and to improve my own writing. And despite having recently published my first novel on Kindle, I have to admit to being a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to good old-fashioned paper books and bookshops (which I'd much rather spend time in than a shoe shop).

Any glance at my bookshelves will tell you that I enjoy historical fiction (Phillipa Gregory, Sarah Waters, Tracy Chevalier and Rose Tremain featuring several times), and the classics (the Brontes and Jane Austin particularly). As an A' Level English Literature student, an appreciation of the Classics was drummed into me at an influential age - I didn't resist; I loved them! However, I'd also like to think that I have a broad range of tastes when it comes to literature, having read - and enjoyed in the last ten years or so - everything from Bridget Jones's Diary to The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime to The Road and most recently, two brilliant new books The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and The Light Between Oceans.

Ultimately, I like the books I read to challenge me emotionally; I want to feel invested in the characters and to really care about what happens to them. I don't want to be terrified, but I enjoy the occasional paranormal influence. I don't want to be reaching for the dictionary every few words, but I do love the language used in books and I appreciate the way a book is written, as much as the story the words portray. I like to be surprised by a plot twist I didn't see coming (Sarah Water's 'Fingersmith' being a particularly memorable one) and I want to feel sad when I read the final page - purely because I have enjoyed the book so much, I don't want it to end.

Why do you read? Escapism? Entertainment? Education?

For me, a love of reading is also one of the most important things you can teach your children. I read from a young age and I'm so proud when I hear my six year old reading to himself and his little brother. I know what an amazing world of books is out there just waiting for him to discover - and that's exciting.

I will be giving away my World Book Night books to the hardworking shopkeepers in the local community: butchers, florists, greengrocers, bakers, hairdressers and the pub landlord. Whether they are already avid readers, or not, I truly hope that they enjoy the book and that they will pass it onto someone else when they have finished with it, to continue to spread the joy of reading.

Below I have provided some information on the book I selected to give away tonight. For more information on World Book Night visit http://www.worldbooknight.org/ or follow the events on Twitter @WorldBookNight

Happy reading!

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again ...Working as a lady's companion, the heroine of Rebecca learns her place. Life begins to look very bleak until, on a trip to the South of France, she meets Maxim de Winter, a handsome widower whose sudden proposal of marriage takes her by surprise. She accepts, but whisked from glamorous Monte Carlo to the ominous and brooding Manderley, the new Mrs de Winter finds Max a changed man. And the memory of his dead wife Rebecca is forever kept alive by the forbidding Mrs Danvers ...Not since Jane Eyre has a heroine faced such difficulty with the Other Woman. An international bestseller that has never gone out of print, Rebecca is the haunting story of a young girl consumed by love and the struggle to find her identity.

Great Ormond Street Hospital’s RBC Race for the Kids

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 07:47:00 +0000

Great Ormond Street Hospital Charity is organising a 5k family fun event on Sunday 24^th June in Battersea Park, London. The RBC Race for the Kids is taking place to raise money for improvements to Great Ormond Street Hospital.

Anyone can take part in RBC Race for the Kids, whether they want to run, jog, walk or roller skate! If you would like to register to take part, visit the sign up page. Registration costs £15 for adults and children over 16 yrs, £10 for children aged between 5 and 16 yrs and is free for the under 5s.

It is every parent's worst nightmare to learn that their child needs hospital care. The staff at children's hospitals do an incredible job in caring for their young patients and supporting the parents through very difficult times. All funds raised from this event will be used towards redeveloping vital parts of the hospital so that staff can care for more sick children. The money raised from the RBC Race for the Kids will help provide things like medical equipment, vital research into childhood illnesses, and beds for parents to stay in so they can be close to their children.

If you can't participate in the race yourself, please help to spread the word for this very worthy cause. You can also donate directly to the Great Ormond Street Hospital Charity.

Thank you.

Final extract from 'The Girl Who Came Home'. 15th April, 1912

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 08:11:00 +0000

To mark the centenary of the sinking of Titanic in the early hours of the morning on 15th April, 1912, the final extract from The Girl Who Came Home shows Maggie on the rescue ship Carpathia. She does not know what happened to the rest of the group she was travelling with.

Time stood still. There was nothing.

‘I’m so cold,’ someone said.

The sound of prayers and sobbing.

It was hard to breathe.

Another voice. ‘A ship.’

She was being lifted then, pulled. Her frozen hands tried to grasp a rope. A ladder? Was she back on Titanic? Was it a dream?

Her body wouldn’t move. She had no idea where she was. Where was Kathleen? Where was everyone?

‘Maggie,’ someone said. ‘Her name is Maggie Murphy. From Ireland. She had this small case with her.’

A bitter taste in her mouth. Hot coffee? Then brandy. Coughing. Spluttering.

She tried to open her eyes, but they were too sore from the salt and the cold.

She tried to speak. ‘I can’t see. Am I blind?’ The words came out as an indecipherable mumble.

‘It’s OK Maggie,’ someone replied. ‘You’re on the Carpathia. It came to rescue us. You’re going to be OK. You’re safe now.’

A blanket was wrapped around her. She let the tears fall.

For the next few days, Maggie barely noticed the sunset or sunrise; barely acknowledged the faint shafts of early morning light which reflected off a piece of metal through the window in front of her, sending light dancing across the deck. She stared dimly ahead, the sun almost irrelevant to her, unable to warm her, unable to illuminate the shadows of thirteen people which clouded her broken heart.

‘Where am I?’ she asked the person lying next to her.

‘The library,’ they replied. ‘There wasn’t room for us all in the cabins and those of us who were last to be rescued were placed in makeshift dorms, like this one.’

‘Which ship are we on?’ she enquired, still confused.

‘The Carpathia. They came to rescue us. Remember?’

She didn’t.

It wasn’t until the third day on the Carpathia that she found enough strength to sit on the deck. Still shaking under her blankets, a kind man with blue eyes, who said he was the doctor, told her that she wasn’t cold anymore but the shock of what she had been through had her nerves bouncing around all over the place. She was unable to cry any more tears. All she could feel was fear and a desolate loneliness.

She reflected on the journey she had taken from Ballysheen, almost able to hear the rumble of the carts as they’d set off, before a sort of stillness had fallen over them as the rutted tracks gave way to the softer sandy road at the edge of the village. She remembered how she’d watched the three carts ahead of the one she shared with her aunt and how she had wondered what thoughts were passing through everyone’s minds as they moved slowly through the landscape that had framed all of their lives. She had watched Peggy, in the cart ahead, speaking some words of comfort to Katie who was twisting a sodden handkerchief around and around her fingers. She remembered that they had stopped once for a driver to remove a stone which had become lodged in one of the horse’s hooves. She recalled how she had hoped that if she stared intently enough, listened hard enough and really concentrated on those sights and sounds and smells, she would impress the memories into her brain, ready to recall at will in the years to come, as the vast ocean and the passing of time attempted to erode them. It was these small, intimate details she recalled now as she sat, shaking and alone, although whether in dreams or in waking moments she wasn’t quite sure.

‘We arrive in New York tomorrow evening,’ she heard someone close by say. ‘And not a moment too soon. This ice is wreaking havoc with the minds of the poor unfortunates. They must be terrified it’s going to happen all over again.’

‘Excuse me sir,’ she whispered.

The man heard her and turned. ‘Yes Miss?’

‘What day is it today?’

‘It is Wednesday Miss. April 17^th.’

‘Wednesday,’ she repeated. ‘Thank you.’

She closed her eyes then and slept.

The Girl Who Came Home - A Titanic Novel is available to download on the Amazon Kindle Store, priced 99p/99c. If you don't have a Kindle, you can download free Kindle reading apps for PC, iPad, iPhone, Android and other devices from the Kindle Store. Read previous extracts:

Fourth extract from 'The Girl Who Came Home' - 14th April, 1912

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 07:21:00 +0000

Today's extract from The Girl Who Came Home is from the moment when Maggie, and others from the group she is travelling with, arrive on deck, an hour after Titanic's collision with the iceberg.

It was the stars she saw first as she clambered up on deck. The millions and millions of twinkling stars, illuminating the sky like the magical lands of her childhood imagination; the very same stars she used to look at in Ballysheen, captivated by their beauty and unfathomable distance.

The vast, empty space of the sky above her now seemed to make this ship, which she had gasped at in wonder and awe just a few days ago, feel suddenly very small and extremely fragile. At that moment, as the cacophony of noise and confusion on the deck engulfed her, she longed, more than anything in her entire life, to be back in her humble, stone cottage warming her fingers over the glow of the embers from the fire as Séamus sat by her side.

She looked around, turning her head wildly from side to side, standing on her tiptoes, peering over the heads of the masses of people swarming all around her. Where was Aunt Kathleen? She had to be here; had to be somewhere. ‘Kathleen!’ she screamed, shouting as loudly as she could. ‘Aunt Kathleen! It’s me! Maggie. I’m over here. Kathleen! Where are you?’ She’d never felt so far away from home, so utterly lost and terrified, in all her seventeen years of life.

‘Maggie, Maggie, over here.’ But it was Harry’s voice, not Kathleen’s, which brought her back into the moment. ‘We have to go up again,’ he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the noise of the panicked passengers and the continual hiss of steam from the funnels high above them. ‘There’s a few boats left on the upper deck.’

Maggie stood in a daze, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. All around her, people were running from one side of the ship to the other, some carrying deck chairs, others clutching onto rubber-rings which they’d found in the gift shop – everyone desperately searching for something which they might be able to hold onto in the water – something which might mean the difference between life and death.

Masses of bodies crowded around the boats which were the next to be lowered. Men were being held back, prevented from getting in, while women and children clambered in reluctantly, almost as frightened about the prospect of drifting endlessly through the freezing black night as they were about staying on the sinking ship. She watched with heart-wrenching helplessness as several women climbed back out of their lifeboats, unable - in the final moment - to leave without their husbands, fathers and brothers. She had never witnessed such a terrifying sight in all her life and stood frozen in fear.

Men called to women as they encouraged them to take to the lifeboats without them. ‘Be brave; no matter what happens, be brave and keep your hands in your pockets, it is very cold weather,’ she heard one man say to a woman, who Maggie presumed was his wife. Another woman was lifted, kicking and screaming into a boat. ‘Go Lottie!’ a man called after her. ‘For God's sake, be brave and go!’

She watched in horror as another woman, who clearly refused to leave her husband, lifted her young daughter and baby into a boat, entrusting them to the care of their nurse, before collapsing onto her knees on the deck, clinging to her husband’s ankles as the boat was lowered over the side. She could barely move as she watched these scenes of unimaginable grief unfolding in front of her, in every direction she looked, each scene more distressing and unbearable than the last.

‘There are no more boats on this deck,’ Harry shouted. ‘Follow me.’

He took the group towards another ladder then, which led up to the boat deck, the highest point on the ship. This ladder was already teeming with bodies; people of all age and class trying desperately to get up to the remaining boats as they felt the forward compartments of the ship sink further and further under the water. Large, burly men pushed past Maggie in an attempt to secure their own escape, or to help women and children who were with them get a foothold on the ladder. A Priest stood reciting prayers as a group huddled together at his feet, their heads bowed.

It was a desperate, frantic moment which frightened Maggie to her core. She knew that Harry, Maura and Jack Brennan, Eileen Brennan and young Michael Kelly were ahead of her. Behind her were Peggy, Katie and the rest of the girls with Pat insisting he follow the last of them up. Struggling with all her might against the surge of bodies behind her, she eventually got a foothold on the ladder and started to climb.

‘Oh, Jesus, my hat.’

She knew immediately it was Peggy’s voice and craning her neck around, saw her friend scrabbling about on the deck for her hat which had been knocked off her head. In the confusion, others climbed up ahead of her, forcing Katie and the others back.

‘Peggy,’ Maggie cried. ‘Peggy, leave it. We have to go. Katie….’

Pushed along by the momentum of the crowd behind her, Maggie had no choice but to keep climbing, emerging onto the boat deck terrified, shivering uncontrollably with the cold and separated from everyone from her group, other than the few who stood with her.

The emergency rockets being fired into the sky sent a bright red light across the ship which was now audibly creaking and groaning under the strain of the water flooding the lower compartments.

Maura Brennan stared wildly around at the unfamiliar faces emerging from the ladder behind them. ‘Maggie, where are the others? They were right behind us.’

‘They got pushed back. I don’t know. I don’t know where they are.’ Maggie’s fear developed into gasping tears then, the enormity of what was happening suddenly hitting her. ‘I don’t know where they are, and I don’t know where Aunt Kathleen is either.’

The Girl Who Came Home - A Titanic Novel is available to download on the Amazon Kindle Store, priced 99p. If you don't have a Kindle, you can download free Kindle reading apps for PC, iPad, iPhone, Android and other devices from the Kindle Store. Read previous extracts here, here and here.

Third extract from 'The Girl Who Came Home'. 13th April, 1912.

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 07:00:00 +0000

Today's extract from The Girl Who Came Home shares more of Maggie's reflections of life on board the ship and the thoughts of Catherine Kenny in New York, who is looking forward to the arrival of her sister, Katie; one of the group of 14 travelling from County Mayo.

Private Journal of Maggie Murphy

April 13^th 1912. Day 3 at sea.

….the general recreation room is for steerage passengers to use for reading or playing cards or a bit of dancing. It’s a big room with a piano for us to play whenever we like. Some French fella plays most of the time, he’s very good. He likes to play some of the ragtime music I’ve heard a little. I think John O’Dea back home would have mighty craic with that piano, it would put the small yoke he plays in D’Arcy’s pub to shame! The man with the Uilleann pipes plays a fair bit too. He’s very good and gets a good old sing song going among us Irish – there’s plenty of us, I’d say we take up at least half of the steerage if not more.

…today Peggy and me played with some of the young ones. One woman has seven children with her and is travelling all alone, God love her. I think she might be Italian or something, none of us can understand a word she says, but she’s nice and her kids are nice. I played with the baby a lot. He likes to drop things and watch you pick them up again. Maura Brennan was talking with a family from a place called Wiltshire in England. The mam and da are taking their five little ones to join relatives in Philadelphia. The youngest is just two year old and the eldest is turned sixteen. She’s a nice girl, Elsie is her name. She told me about her home and it sounds a bit like ours with the fields and the lake.

….Ellen Joyce has found another woman who is to be married when they arrive in America so they are all talk about wedding gowns and veils and admire each other’s rings all the time. There are four other newly-wed couples in our section of the ship who are headed out on honeymoon and Maura has been talking with another woman who’ll be having a baby soon. It’s quite a social gathering altogether! Peggy and Katie have taken to fanciful talk again about what they’ll do when they are in America and what the fancy homes they will live in will look like.

…it’s nice to walk on the deck in the sunshine and breathe in the fresh, sea air, although it is chilly up so high and with the ship going along at such a rate of knots there’s a fierce breeze all the time. Pat fancies himself as a bit of a crew member giving us daily reports of speed and iceberg warnings. These are posted every day outside the dining room and we let him tell us the latest news. He enjoys it!

New York, 13th April, 1912

Before she finished up for the day, and sensing that her employer was in more jovial mood than usual, Catherine Kenny decided to ask Mrs Walker-Brown’s opinion about a suitable birthday gift for her sister, Katie. ‘I’m thinking it would be nice to buy her something small from Macy’s,’ she explained. ‘This being her first time in New York, and it being the largest department store in the world. But I was wondering, since you have such impeccable taste yourself, what you might suggest as a nice gift for her.’

Clearly flattered, Emily Walker-Brown suggested gloves. ‘No lady should be without a decent pair and Macy’s has a wonderful selection of the finest styles. You are aware, of course, that Isidor and Ida Straus are travelling on Titanic also.’ Catherine looked blankly at her, having no idea who Isidor and Ida Straus were. ‘The owner of Macy’s department store, and his wife!’ Emily Walker-Brown continued, condescendingly. ‘So, I think, considering that your sister will have celebrated her birthday aboard the very same ship which the owner of the store is sailing on himself, a gift from Macy’s would be entirely appropriate. Entirely appropriate indeed. Yes, I should settle on gloves.’

Catherine resisted the temptation to inform her employer that she was sure Katie couldn’t care less whether the owner of Macy’s was sailing on Titanic or not, and thanked her for her advice before requesting permission to leave for the day. It was given.

Despite her exhaustion, Catherine set out in the direction of 151 West, 34^th Street. A short while later, she emerged from the store, delighted with her purchase of a pair of white, cotton gloves, elegantly presented in the traditional Macy’s packaging; a white box with a red star in the centre.

R.M.S Titanic

Katie Kenny looked at her dinner plate, admiring the White Star Line emblem in the centre of the plain, white plate; a red, swallowtail flag with a white star in the centre. The same, by now familiar, detailing appeared on her coffee mug and soup bowl. It was little things like this which continually surprised and delighted her; the logo of the ship’s owners stamped onto every knife, fork and spoon, the woven blankets on their beds – red with white detailing and the distinctive White Star Line star and lettering in the centre. It was a level of attention to the absolute last detail which she had not encountered before, and had certainly not expected on a steerage ticket.

She thought of her family back in Ireland, her Mam and Da and her brother William, and wondered how it must have felt to watch them all leave a few mornings ago – such a sight they must have been clattering out of Ballysheen. She thought of her sister Catherine, waiting for her in New York and wondered how she would look after all these years of city living. She had heard that it can turn your face pale, what with sitting indoors a lot of the time and the fumes from the motor cars making you cough. Katie’s stomach flipped slightly at the thought of seeing her sister in just a matter of days.

Second extract from 'The Girl Who Came Home'. 12th April, 1912

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 07:09:00 +0000

Today's extract from 'The Girl Who Came Home' shares some of Maggie's thoughts and observations about life on board Titanic during the second day at sea, and also reflections of those left back at home in Ireland.

Private Journal of Maggie Murphy

April 12th, 1912. Day 2 at sea.

… I think about Séamus a lot and hope his Da is getting better. I took the packet of letters from my coat pocket today and read the first one. It was so nicely written and the words were so kind it made me cry. He says he has written one letter for each of the fourteen months of our courtship together in Ballysheen – the first letter is called ‘January’ and he has written about his memories of the first night we danced at the Brennans’ wedding. He says he thought me lovelier than all of the stars that shone in the sky that night. I wish he was here with me now. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain to him what this ship is like – maybe he will sail on it himself one day if he can ever come to America to join me.

……Peggy is complaining that the vibrations from the engines kept her awake last night. I think it’s quite a nice noise - a sort of humming sound like a big swarm of bees have set up a hive in the boiler room. Katie says Peggy should stop thinking about that English steward we met yesterday – she thinks it’s more likely him which is keeping Peggy awake at night and not the engines at all!

….I was lost earlier today! I’d been for some fresh air on the promenade deck and couldn’t find my way back to our cabin. I think I went down the wrong stairwell and ended up on D deck instead of E deck. Luckily there are always plenty of crew members around and I asked someone where I was. He walked me personally back to E deck and all the way down the crew passageway which he told me is called ‘Scotland Road’ to the place where our cabin is. I was glad to be back there. I gave myself quite a fright being separated from everyone like that. I think I’ll ask someone to come with me for fresh air next time.

…..the meals on board are very nice. We are already used to the call from the bugler who signals that we can make our way to the dining saloon where we sit at tables covered with white linen tablecloths! Today we had smoked herrings for breakfast, brawn for lunch and corned beef and cabbage for dinner. I think I’ll be needing some new clothes in America if I keep eating at this rate. To think that there’s a whole army of crewmen peeling our forty ton of spuds and carrots and boiling our forty thousand eggs while we sit on our backsides! Tea and biscuits are served in the afternoon. Katie says they have the biscuits laid out in such neat rows on the plates it would nearly stop you taking one so as not to break up the pattern.

…we are all in good spirits, even though it feels like we are a very long way from home now. We’re always talking of the people we’ve left behind though – one of us will remember something somebody said or a time they made us laugh and we try to get the time of day right in our heads, so as to imagine what they are doing while we steam further away from them across the ocean.

County Mayo, Ireland

Dusk was settling over the rugged landscape, casting long shadows and shrouding the mountains in a blanket of mute darkness as Mary d’Arcy and eight other women walked slowly to the Holy Well on the edge of the village. They were a sombre group, making their short pilgrimage to pray for the safe passage of the fourteen who had left their homes just a day ago. To these eight women; some of them mothers, some of them sisters and some of them grandmothers of the departed, it already seemed as though their loved ones had been gone for many, many months, rather than a few short hours.

There was something of a tentative silence hanging over the women who, on any other day, could be heard exchanging friendly banter as they went about their work and daily chores in the village, laughing at a shared joke or a snippet of juicy gossip as they enjoyed a drop of porter in the ale houses. Theirs was not normally a quiet existence, but at that moment it was very much so. Only the haunting sound of a barn owl’s screech broke the silence around them. Approaching the well, they attended to their familiar rituals and said their own private prayers before kneeling on the hard ground, and taking their rosary beads in their hands, began, as one, to recite their Hail Marys.

To a distant observer such as Séamus Doyle, who watched now from the window of his father’s small farmhouse, this was a particularly moving sight, serene in its setting and mesmerising in its solemnity. How touched Maggie and the others in the group would be, he thought, to know how deeply their departure was felt in this small community; how heartened they would be to see this declaration of absolute faith being made in their honour. But they could not know, would not see.

First extract from 'The Girl Who Came Home'

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 08:53:00 +0000

On this day, 11th April, in 1912, Titanic departed from it's final embarkation point; Queenstown, in County Cork, Ireland. She set sail across the Atlantic Ocean, heading for New York. It was in Queenstown where the characters in my novel The Girl Who Came Home boarded Titanic. For the next five days, I will share an extract from the novel to provide a sense of life on board Titanic and both during and after the tragic sinking.

Today's extract is from the private journal of Maggie Murphy, my female protagonist. Maggie is a seventeen-year-old girl who is travelling on Titanic with 13 others from her small parish in County Mayo, Ireland. Unable to travel with them, Seamus, the man Maggie loves with all her heart, has had to stay behind in Mayo. She is carrying a packet of letters from him in her coat pocket.

Private journal of Maggie Murphy

RMS Titanic, 11^th April, 1912. Day 1 at sea.

With the ‘Ireland’ in front of ours, the two tender boats left the wharf then, chugging back along the waterfront of Queenstown, passing the White Star Wharf again. We each blessed ourselves with the sign of the cross as we sailed past the Cathedral, and a tall man standing just near to me began to play ‘A Nation Once Again’ on his Uilleann pipes. He played well and the gathered passengers sang along and clapped when he finished. He smiled at me and played ‘Spancil Hill’ then, a sadder tune which made some people cry. I didn’t look at any of our group, afraid that I would take to weeping again if I did.

As we moved further away from the wharf, the boat became quieter. The men shuffled their feet and the women cuddled their children into them or stared into the distance. Everyone had their own private thoughts at that moment; mine were of Séamus and the time we had danced at Maura and Jack Brennans’ wedding. I wondered if he was thinking of me at all.

The boats then turned a bend in the channel, and that was when we saw her.

All that could be heard were gasps. The piper stopped his playing altogether.

Not one person spoke, stunned into silence by the towering mass of this ship which was anchored in the waters before us. I have never, and doubt that I will ever again, witness a sight so astonishing.

Some of our group, who have travelled on steam liners before, seemed less impressed than the rest of us who have rarely seen a row boat on Loch Conn, but I even heard Aunt Kathleen comment on how large and magnificent the ship appeared.

As our now tiny tender ‘America’ pulled alongside the wall of steel, a door opened in the side of the ship and a gangway was lowered. At the top of the gangway were the ticket inspectors and the doctors who carried out the health inspections. Slowly, we started to make our way up the gangplank, not one of us able to stop ourselves from craning our necks to take in the height of the decks and masts soaring high, high into the clouds above. I didn’t want to look down; didn’t want to see the swell of the ocean under my feet.

There was a delay in the inspection line ahead and I heard another passenger tell their friend that a girl up ahead had a rash and was being refused entry. Then I saw who the person was. It was the Mayo girl I had spoken to on the wharf; the girl who was going to join her brothers. As she walked back down the gangway, sobbing, I heard a crew member explain to her that she would have to travel on another ship when her rash was healed. ‘The Celtic sails tomorrow miss and the Oceanic next week. A few days won’t make much of a difference.’ I wanted to call to her but didn’t even know her name. My heart was so sorry for her and I hope she can board the Celtic tomorrow.

We waited more anxiously then for our own inspections, wondering what would happen if one of us was to be turned away. The doctors examined our eyes and our hair and checked our faces and hands. All fourteen of us passed with a clean bill of health and finally, one by one, we stepped onto the deck of the ship which would take us to America.

As we boarded, I noticed a priest leaving the boat. He had a camera in his hands. I thought it strange that he was getting off here – surely there were less expensive ways to travel from Southampton to Cork? He continued to take pictures as he walked down the gangplank and as he stepped aboard the tender we had just left. He seemed interested in the long line of us waiting for our health inspections and in the mailbags being loaded onto Titanic and unloaded from her onto the tender. He must have sensed me staring at him anyway, because he turned at the bottom of the gangway and caught my eye. ‘She is a magnificent ship miss,’ he said to me. ‘God bless you and keep you safe.’

Ellen Joyce told me later that she’d actually seen a man hiding among the mailbags to be taken back to Queenstown – a stoker or a boiler man she said, judging by his dress and the muck on his face. She claims she saw him walking off Titanic and covering himself with the grey mailbags. ‘I saw him and he saw me,’ she said as we waited in line. ‘He had the fear of God in his eyes – he looked like a man who was running away from something. Maybe he was in trouble.’ When I watched the tender chug back to the quayside, I wondered what the man was running from and hoped that it was for good reason he didn’t want to sail to New York.

The passengers who had already boarded in England and France watched us from the decks above, and from benches and seating areas scattered around the deck we stood on. We were the new arrivals. I felt as though we had arrived late to a grand party. These people had already been aboard for a day and looked comfortable in their surroundings. An old lady smiled at me as we followed a steward who was to show us to our cabins. I smiled back and swapped my case into my right hand, the left growing tired of the weight. The steward noticed.

‘Let me take that for you miss,’ he said, taking the case from me. ‘You’ve probably carried that case far enough already.’

I smiled, relieved to have the bulky case out of my hands and no longer banging against my shins which were black and blue by now from heaving it across half of Ireland. He had a kind face and I noticed the shiny new crew member badge on his arm. Number 23, whatever that meant.

Our cabins are quite fine. Ours is number 115. There are four beds; two bunk beds. Me and Peggy have the two top bunks and Aunt Kathleen and Katie have the two bottom ones. They all have proper mattresses and are as comfortable as any bed I have ever slept in. There is a hand wash basin in the cabin itself with two White Star Line hand towels hanging from a silver hook on either side. There is even a bar of White Star Line soap for us to use! We have placed our cases under the bottom bunks but I have kept the packet of letters from Séamus in my coat pocket and my coat is folded up at the foot of my own bed.

When we were settled, the steward, Harry is his name, showed us where the life jackets were kept and took us up to see one of the sixteen lifeboats. Pat said the lifeboat was almost as big as the tender we had just left and how could anyone imagine that a ship could be built which was big enough to hold sixteen of them? Pat is like a child walking around this ship, he has the poor steward’s ear half bent off by asking so many questions about it!

We set sail at 1.30pm according to Ellen’s gleaming, gold watch which she takes out to tell the time at every possible opportunity. The thrust of the engines sent a shudder through my bones and a steady vibration through the wooden benches we were sitting on in the General Room. Realising we were setting sail, we all rushed back out to the deck, eager to catch a last glimpse of Ireland.

Our excitement faded then and we stood for a long while at the white railings at the stern of the ship, silently watching our homeland fade from view, each crashing wave taking us further away from everyone we loved and everything we knew.

The man with the Uilleann pipes stood next to me for a good while, but neither of us spoke.

She’s a mighty fine land,’ he said eventually, ‘you should be very proud to have known her, wherever life might take you.’

I turned to him. ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Yes, I am. Very proud indeed.’ I remember feeling for the precious packet of letters in my coat pocket, still bound by their packaging and string. Grasping them and my rosary beads, I said a silent prayer.

Titanic followed the coastline of Ireland for the rest of the afternoon, past Old Kinsale Head and on, following the cliffs and the mountains. We returned to our cabins now and again, coming back up to the deck occasionally to catch a last glimpse of our country. The sun was setting as the boat turned to head out across the ocean and we were silent once again as Ireland’s coastline faded into the sea mist and was obscured from view.

For the love of .... writing. MAD Awards 2012.

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 10:04:00 +0000

When I first started blogging three years ago, lots of people looked at me sideways and asked 'why?' It was hard for them to understand why on earth I would bother sharing my innermost thoughts on a page in cyberspace which total strangers would read. I would attempt to explain how it wasn't just an online diary and would tell them all about the lovely community of bloggers, and how it was a great way to find your style of writing, blah, blah, blah but they still didn't really get it.

So, I decided to stop being over-complicated about it all and explained it as simply as this: I blog because I want to write.

Blogging has been my daily exercise, my 30 minute jog around the park, the thing that keeps my writing fit and healthy. Without it, I would never have had the confidence to tackle freelance articles for the papers or review books by actual, proper authors, let alone write a novel of my own.

My blog may have been a little neglected of late - I've moved on from the very early stages of motherhood and I sometimes don't feel I have as much to add to the 'debate' any more. But, I still enjoy this space to write about things which make me laugh, rant, stamp my feet in rage or to simply offer my view on topics as diverse as handbags, Easter eggs and my husband's irrational intolerance of fairy lights. And I still love to come here and share the ups and downs of motherhood.

My blog has, and always will be, about writing first and foremost. I love writing. I can't stop writing. And I shall continue writing until the virtual cows come home. I may not blog as regularly now as I used to when I was a fresh-faced (?) blogging newbie, but I still love my little corner of cyberspace; still love having this place of my own to write openly and freely as the mood hits me. And if my words make others laugh, cry, write an impassioned response or just tell their friends over coffee, then that's wonderful.

So, I was absolutely thrilled yesterday to find out that I have been nominated for a MAD Best Blog Writer Award. Whoever my fairy blogmother was who nominated me, I would like to say a huge thanks. I am honestly very, very surprised but utterly thrilled to be nominated and in this category particularly. Many other fab bloggers have also been nominated for this award - that's Mummy Cool, Joanne Mallon, Honest Mum, Touch & Tickle and Geek Mummy so far. I'd like to wish everyone many congratulations on being nominated and the very best of luck.

Here's to blogging and to writing.

Titanic - and me

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 08:00:00 +0000

Three years ago, I started this blog. I'd just been made redundant, so what better reason to finally do something about that dream I'd always had of being an author. A lot has happened since then, lots of ups, lots of downs, but yesterday my first novel, The Girl Who Came Home - A Titanic Novel, was published on Kindle. Here's how it happened.

I don’t have a grandfather who played in the band. I don’t have a grandmother who was hoping to start a better life in America. I don’t come from any of the ‘Titanic’ towns. In fact, there is very little to connect me to Titanic at all – other than a long held passion, interest and fascination with the story of ‘the ship of dreams’ which sank in such tragic circumstances one hundred years ago.

Long before James Cameron’s epic hit the cinema screens in 2000, I’d talked about writing a book about Titanic and over the following years I jotted down notes, kept articles I saw and planned to write something, someday. But whenever it came to putting pen to paper (or fingers to typewriter) Titanic was far too daunting a prospect to tackle. Where to start? How would I ever do justice to the event? Would I ever be able to capture a sense of life aboard this amazing ship?

Then, one day in 2011, after pursuing my writing seriously for two years, I decided I was ready to tackle my long held ambition. So, I started doing research, particularly into the Irish connection with Titanic and stumbled across a website dedicated to the memory of The Addergoole Fourteen who sailed on Titanic. I found the story of this group who left County Mayo in Ireland incredibly moving and inspiring. It was then that I realised 2012 was the centenary year of the sinking of Titanic.

I researched and researched, right down to the smallest details of the cabins my characters slept in, the meals they ate aboard the ship and the songs they sang during their evenings. I spoke to members of The Addergoole Society who were extremely helpful. I watched the movie again. I listened to audio recordings of the survivors and watched incredible images on YouTube of the Titanic setting out from Belfast and other footage of passenger’s relatives and friends massing outside the White Star Line offices on Broadway in New York when news of the disaster arrived. I studied Father Browne’s incredible photographs and read books about the disaster. I was entirely immersed in Titanic’s story and rarely talked about anything else (much to the delight of my family and friends, I’m sure!).

I wrote my novel The Girl Who Came Home in just over three months – or rather, it wrote itself (or so it seems). I knew that the timings were tight if it was to have any chance of publication as most publishers had already filled their lists for 2012 long before the idea for my novel had ever popped into my head. But my agent encouraged me to write it (I think she realised it just had to come out of me one way or another) and the manuscript was submitted to an Irish publisher in summer 2011. While they really liked the book and my writing and were very complimentary, they didn’t commit to publishing. I knew this was pretty much my only chance, as other publishers had their ‘Titanic’ books already planned. Totally deflated, I crawled away to lick my wounds.

Encouraged by feedback from family who had read the book and loved it (‘honestly,’ they said. ‘We’re not just saying this because it’s you.’), I set about self-publishing the novel on Kindle. This in itself wasn’t the easiest of tasks, being a bit of a technical luddite. But buoyed by the self-publishing success I’d seen of fellow authors (Catherine Ryan Howard and Mel Sherratt inparticular), I bit the bullet. I contacted a Belfast-based artist to request permission to use one of his Titanic paintings for the front cover of the book and, after over a decade of talking about it, and three years of taking my writing dreams seriously, my Titanic novel came to fruition.

As we head towards the 100 year anniversary on 15^th April, I feel proud and privileged to be sitting alongside traditionally published authors on Amazon and am happy to have fulfilled a long-held ambition. Writing about Titanic was daunting, hectic, exhilarating and incredibly, incredibly moving. I frequently found myself so immersed in the dramas unfolding before me on the page that hours would pass by without me noticing. I discovered some incredible stories of survival, good fortune, unimaginable tragedy and heart-breaking loss. Such is the story of Titanic with all its contradictions of class division, luxury and suffering, survival and death.

Titanic’s legacy will live on long beyond this centenary year. And I suspect our, and our children's, fascination with her story will only grow stronger over time.

The Girl Who Came Home is available now on the Amazon Kindle Store. Click here to download from Amazon.com and click here to download from Amazon.co.uk

I think I'm missing the 'handbag gene'

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 15:14:00 +0000

If you've read Caitlin Moran's fabulous 'How To Be A Woman' (and if you haven't, you should amend this omission promptly), you will most likely have snorted in laughter at the part where she talks about handbags and particularly where she compares some of the more expensive designer ones to S&M horses. It made me chuckle anyway and she makes a very valid point about handbags and women and the - often - bizarre relationship between the two.

Certainly, a handbag can say a lot about a person - are they fashion conscious, are they using the handbag as a statement, are they 'on trend' or are they simply (and I'm aware that this may be a shocking concept) using it to carry stuff around in?

I've never really been a 'statement' handbag girl. Yes, I like my handbag to be spacious and pretty or to maybe coordinate with at least one of the items of clothing I've thrown on that day, but coveting the latest Hermes Birkin (did I spell that right?) or Victoria Beckham design is just something I don't understand. Really - I don't. I look at those expensive bags behind their glass cases and can't help thinking that I could get one which looked pretty much the same in Primark or Debenhams for a fraction of the price. That's just the way I look at it.

But, I am well aware that for many women, those designer handbags are the stuff of legend, glinting with a extraordinary 'my precious' type allure under their carefully lit cases. Even still, I was stunned to learn that according to new research, almost half a million women in the UK would be prepared to spend more than £1,000 on a handbag she loved. Gulp. Really? Perhaps I am missing the handbag-gene because I would seriously hesitate to spend £1,000 on a person I loved, never mind a bag.

Another startling handbag fact is that almost the same number of women (half a million) carry over £2,000 worth of contents around in their handbags, creating a total weight of over 4kg (the same weight as an average cat and heavier than most newborn babies). Wow. That's a lot of stuff and a lot of weight to be carrying around.

Mobiles, laptops, iPods, e-Readers and iPads account for the vast proportion of the value inside the handbag, with everyday essentials such as purses, keys, hairbrushes, tissues, children's toys, pens, books and a spare pair of shoes making up the rest of the value and weight. A veritable tardis indeed.

Reading all this got me thinking about my own handbag. So, I had a rummage inside and this is what I found: 1 purse, 3 packets of tissues, 1 pack of cleansing wipes, 1 umbrella, 3 shopping lists, 13 till receipts, 1 ice lolly stick, 1 train timetable, 1 Chewit wrapper, 1 child's sock which has been mysteriously missing for months, 1 box of Tic Tacs, 3 crumpled up tissues, 1 pen, 2 benefit lip tints, 1 chocolate coin, 1 of those Eskimo mints you get at the end of a meal, 1 plaster, 1 purple Quality Street wrapper and a handful of coffee beans which were pilfered by my son from the display at the local coffee shop.

This content is probably worth a total of about two euros, thus proving that I am not your average woman when it comes to the matter of handbags. It was quite a therapeutic exercise nevertheless and probably says something about me, although I'm not quite sure what.

If you are a handbag lover - and plan to be a bit more frugal in your purchases than the half a million women mentioned above - then you might be interested to learn that Dannii Minogue's fashion label Project D have been working with Kenco Millicano coffee (who commissioned the research into UK women's handbag habits) to create their first ever handbag from the label. The limited edition 'K Bag' (pictured, quite exclusively above might I add) will be available to buy exclusively online at www.mywardrobe.com from 19th March, retailing at £250 with all profits going to a charitable cause.

It looks like a perfectly nice handbag to me and a suitable accessory for transporting my many packets of tissues and kids' empty sweet wrappers around in. I'm not sure, however, what Caitlin Moran would have to say about the studs on the ends.

Why not have a rummage around in your handbag today - you might be surprised at what you find.

Lego Duplo Creative Sorter Review

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Sat, 03 Mar 2012 19:59:00 +0000

As my boys grow up I often breathe a sigh of relief - no more nappies, no more folding and unfolding of buggies and no more sterilising of stuff. Phew! But I also panic often at the thought of them growing up and not being able to do the little things with them anymore, such as giving them piggy backs upstairs, tickling them until they scream and telling them the ice cream van only plays music when it has run out of ice cream. You know, things like that!

One of the things I have loved doing with my boys since they were babies is getting down on the floor and having a good old fashioned play. Jigsaws, cars, building blocks - I have literally spent half of the last six years on the floor surrounded by toys. And although the chunky jigsaws have progressed to much more detailed ones and the simple building blocks have developed into intricate Lego castles, I still spend a lot of my time on the floor.

So, when Lego Duplo invited me to be part of the 2012 Blogger Panel I was delighted. Both boys still enjoy playing with the Duplo Thomas the Tank Engine train set which we started to collect when my eldest was just 2.

The Lego Duplo Creative Sorter (pictured above) is a great starter set for any pre-school child (the suggested age range for the product is 18 months to 5 years). The set comes with 23 colour coded bricks to construct 3 animals: a giraffe, an elephant and a parrot. The clever thing about this product is that it also comes with 3 different sorting plates (which double up as box lids) which help the child sort the pieces they need to construct each animal. This is a great toy for encouraging problem solving, coordination, role-play, shape recognition and, of course, construction skills. And for the non-conformists (!) the bricks can, of course, be mixed up to make the animals differently, or to create an entirerly new species altogether.

My four year old loved this toy - even though he has been playing with the smaller Lego bricks for some time now he really enjoyed assembling the animals and, best of all, he enjoyed slotting the bricks through the sorting plates to put everything back into the box. A clever way to encourage tidying up if ever I saw one!

Our Lego Duplo Thomas train set is 4 years old and has been played with relentlessly. It still looks as good as new, so I can certainly vouch for the durability and quality of this toy. In fact, I would say it is pretty much indestructible.

The Creative Sorter retails at £17.99 in the Lego Duplo shop. I personally think it is worth every penny as this is definitely a toy which will be played with over and over again, and can be interchanged with other Duplo bricks and even with Lego bricks as the children grow up.

All in all, a definite thumbs up and a toy that I especially think would be perfect for the younger end of the suggested age group.

For more information on the Lego Duplo range, click here.

Disclaimer: I am part of the Lego Duplo 2012 Blogger Panel and was sent a set of the Creative Sorter to review. Having said that, I genuinely liked it!

Win children's books for World Book Day

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 12:50:00 +0000

Thursday 1st March is World Book Day in UK and Ireland. World Book day was designated by UNESCO as a worldwide celebration of books and reading. A main aim of World Book Day is to encourage children to explore the pleasures of books and reading by providing them with the opportunity to have a book of their own.

To celebrate this great event, I am giving away two children's books to one of my readers. If you would like to be in with a chance of winning the two books highlighted below, please leave a comment below, including a Twitter ID or link to your blog, mentioning your favourite children's book. The winner will be picked at random and will be notified on Friday 2nd March. Good luck!

Paddington Goes for Gold, by Michael Bond.

Dear old Paddington bear never has been particularly effective at maintaining his fitness levels – marmalade sandwiches can lead to cuddly tummies! But this year he’s feeling particularly sporty! There must be a reason, but we’re definitely not officially affiliated with that reason so I’ll let you work it out for yourself...Paddington has decided to attend the school sports day and is desperate to win – things don’t seem to go according to plan though and there are some sticky results! With super shiny GOLD (foil) cover! Paddington Goes for Gold is published by

Harper Collins Children's Books.

Six Little Chicks, by Jez Alborough (multi-million selling author of Duck in the Truck).

Bright, brilliant artwork matches the funny, rhythmic, energy-fuelled story of six courageous chicks. Children will love the repeated action words and thinking of new ways to act them out. Six Little Chicks is a real treat from a much-loved talent. Busy Hen has five little chicks to look after while making sure number six - still an egg- stays warm. The last thing she needs is hairy, scary Fox sniffing about. She is frantic when the other birds warn her that her chicks are in danger, but her five little chicks are a lot braver than she realises! Six Little Chicks is published by Random House.

Also, for World Book Day, I'd like to mention 'Reading Chest', the UK's first 'through-the-post' book rental scheme for 4-9 year olds. The books available to rent are based on reading schemes in UK schools and works in a similar way to DVD rental services. For a monthly membership fee, books tailored to your child's individual preferences are sent out to you, with a pre-paid return envelope. Sounds like a great idea to me. For further details on Reading Chest, check out the website.

For more information on World Book Day 2012 visit the website or Facebook page or follow on Twitter @WorldBookDayUK

THIS COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED.

Reconsidering the Tiger Mother

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 11:22:00 +0000

Last year, I blogged in response to the media frenzy surrounding Amy Chua - the 'Tiger Mother' behind the controversial book 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother'. The excerpt from the book which appeared in the Wall Street Journal created an international outcry - and I pounced in to add my tuppence ha'penny worth (you can take the girl out of Yorkshire, but you can't take Yorkshire out of the girl!), giving my view on letting your children find their own way, rather than forcing things upon them.

Here's what I wrote then.

BUT.......

Having just read Amy's book for the first time, I actually feel obliged to offer the author some sort of an apology. I judged her without fully understanding her. I stamped my feet about her dreadful, strict, cruel parenting methods, without having read about her motivations for doing this and without having heard her - or even her daughters's - side of the story.

If, like me, you think you have an opinion on the 'Tiger Mother' issue, but haven't actually read Amy's book, then I'd highly recommend that you do. I wrote the following review of the book for my blog on hellomagazine.com - while I still find the 'Tiger Mother' approach shocking and at times upsetting, I think I understand it more now.

When Amy Chau’s ‘Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother’ was first published in 2011 and an excerpt appeared in the Wall Street Journal, a huge media backlash began, condemning Amy for her Chinese parenting techniques and seriously questioning the concept of the ‘Tiger Mother’.

I had my own opinion on the matter and wrote on my blog about how shocking it all was and why I would never be a ‘Tiger Mother’ myself. But I hadn’t read Amy’s book. Now, having read the paperback edition which is published by Bloomsbury, my opinion has changed slightly.

‘Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother’, apart from anything else, is an excellently written, humorous, intelligent and, at times, self-deprecating memoir. Amy’s writing is sharp, her account of family life is brutally honest and yet she isn’t afraid to laugh at herself and point out her own flaws.

From the outset, Amy paints a revealing picture of family life with her husband Jed, her daughters Sophia and Lulu (and the dogs who eventually join the family – Amy’s Chinese Mother approach to ‘parenting’ a dog is part insanity, part hilarious account of how she recognises she cannot always be in control).

Of course, Amy’s approach to raising her daughters is vastly – and sometimes shockingly – different to the approach taken by the majority of ‘Western’ parents. And yet, having read ‘Battle Hymn’, I’m not angry with Amy, as I expected to be. I don’t despise her, I don’t even condemn her. I actually applaud her unbelievable self-discipline and drive, even if I cannot understand it and certainly don’t feel that there would be a place for it in my own home.

Her continual, and often very dramatic, battles with her daughters over piano and violin practice may be extreme, but there is a part of me – the coaxing my children to eat their dinners part – which completely gets where Amy is coming from, as a mother, putting herself into an unpleasant situation in the belief that you are trying to do what you believe is best for your children.

There are some very painful low points between Amy and her daughters, but these always seem to be countered by the most amazing high points as they reach a seemingly unattainable goal and shine in their public performances, playing the piano or violin. Amy’s pride and absolute love for her girls, at these times, is hard to deny.

From the gasp-inducing episode of the ‘Birthday Card’, to the relentless pursuit of excellence which involves booking the grand ballroom of the hotel they are staying in while on holiday so the girls don’t miss out on any piano practice time, to dealing with two family illnesses, to the final showdown with her youngest daughter in a restaurant near Red Square, this is an account of family life which I couldn’t put down.

With the paperback edition comes a post script from Amy, which gives us an additional insight into her reaction to the media storm which followed the initial publication of the book. Her re-telling of just one of the many interviews she experienced is hilarious. We also have the letter written from Sophia which was posted in the New York Post: ‘Why I love my Tiger Mother’. This, perhaps above all else, tells the real story of ‘Battle Hymn’.

Perhaps all parents face their own battles when it comes to raising children. ‘Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother’ certainly makes you think about your own parenting style. Ironically, I read the closing chapters of the book as I sat sipping a coffee, waving occasionally to my children as my husband played with them in the swimming pool. I could almost feel Amy breathing over my shoulder admonishing me for my shockingly lazy parenting techniques!

Amy Chua’s battle is definitely one to open your eyes – and one which you simply cannot offer an opinion on until you’ve read the book.

‘Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother’ is published by Bloomsbury.

Postscript: When the above review was posted on hellomagazine.com and I tweeted a link to it, Amy Chua, the author, replied with the tweet below. Check out her Facebook page - I think it gives more insight into the woman behind the words and that while she expects people to dislike her for her 'Tiger Mothering' she is delighted when someone takes the time to read the book and make an informed opinion.

amychua Amy Chua

@HazelGaynor @hellomag @BloomsburyBooks Thanks for giving me a chance, Hazel! Loved your review + posted it on Facebookon.fb.me/fpmQPl

Parent Maths

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 16:16:00 +0000

1 empty egg box + 1 box of crayons + 3 sheets of shiny stickers = 1 happy four year old

1 empty shoe box + 1 box of felt pens + 3 sheets of Ben 10 stickers = 1 happy six year old

1 happy four year old + 1 happy six year old + 1 laptop + 1 cup of freshly brewed coffee = 1 happy mother

1 frazzled mother + 1 bottle of wine + fifteen minutes = 1 empty bottle of wine

1 shoe basket + 12 pairs of shoes = 12 pairs of shoes on the floor next to the shoe basket

2 new winter hats + 2 new pairs of winter gloves + 2 new winter ski jackets + 1 chilly winter afternoon = 2 children playing merrily outside in t.shirts

15 jaffa cakes + 15 jaffa cakes = 10 minutes of biscuit filled joy

12 cups of tea + 1 mother + 2 children = 12 cups of cold tea

3 freshly cleaned toilets + 3 freshly cleaned bathroom floors + 2 boys = 1 depressed mother with a mop and bucket in her hand

2 disobedient children + 3 empty threats to ban TV = 2 obedient children

2 plates of home cooked nutritious dinner + 2 disgruntled children + 20 minutes of patient encouragement = 1 enraged mother and 2 plates of home cooked nutritious dinner on the floor

2 pairs of muddy boots + 3 reminders to remove muddy boots at the door = 2 pairs of muddy boots trampling all over the just washed floor

2 boys + 1 worm = 1 anxious worm

2 boys + 1 muddy puddle = 2 muddy boys

2 boys + 1 whoopee cushion = 2 hysterical boys

2 boys + 1 whoopee cushion + 1 mother = 1 mother with a headache

1 mother with a headache + 2 boys = 3 DVDs

1 pack of Haribo Tropifrutti for the children + 1 sweet-toothed mother = 0 Haribo Tropifrutti for the children

16 children at a birthday party + 1 mother + 1 bottle of gin = 0 gin

In which I rage about Easter eggs in January

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 09:46:00 +0000

I know the Mayan Calendar is about to run out and, if you're a believer in the more apocalyptic outlook on life, we ain't got that long to live, but still, there is surely NO EXCUSE for putting Easter chocolate on the supermarket shelves in January.

Aaarrrrggggghhhhhhhhhhh. Rant, rant, rant, stomp, stomp, stomp.

This is surely the height of retailing ludicrous-ness.

First of all, surely, nobody wants to even look at chocolate for at least a month after the Christmas excesses. We're still working our way through the Trick or Treat stash for crying out loud. The selection boxes are backed up against the left over 'Crackers for Cheese' (why, oh why do I buy two boxes every year?) and I'm force feeding the kids chocolate orange so it doesn't go to waste.

There can, surely, be nobody who actually buys Easter eggs now? Is there? Please tell me there isn't. It can't be right, can it, to be stashing chocolate chicks in the cupboards now? Maybe I've missed something, but as far as I can recall there has never been a case of panic-buying of Easter eggs. There has never been a world shortage of Creme Eggs which we must all prevent by stockpiling them and looting the shops for them NOW, NOW, NOW.

It's insania, that's what it is (isn't that right, Mr Andre?) and it makes me feel oh so very, very sad that we live in such a consumer-led world that this seems like a rational, totally normal thing to do by some people gathered in a boardroom (probably sometime last August) planning to start their Easter campaign in January.

MAKE IT STOP. PLEASE.

Oh, and by the way, if you disagree with me then I don't want to talk to you. On this point, the lady IS NOT for turning.

Humph.

Pleasing things

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 13:21:00 +0000

First of all, Happy New Year as this is, officially, my first post of 2012. And to start the new year, I am in frivolous mood (am probably still a little bit drunk from the New Year's Eve party to be honest) - so I thought I would share a little of my conviviality by considering some of the simpler things in life which give me much happiness on a dark and windy January day. It would be easy to grumble and grouse, but I'm not going to take the obvious route. Not today.

Here's what currently makes me happy.

1. My rose-patterned cake stand. We made buns yesterday. Covered them with nutella and sprinkles and arranged them nicely on the cake stand. Infinitely more pleasing than a boring old plate.

2. My union jack dog which my sister have me for Christmas. I think he is supposed to be a doorstop but he's too nice to stand in a draught. He brings a little bit of English-ness into my very Irish life.

3. My new Jo Malone perfume - it smells divine. I feel divine when I wear it.

4. My new Paperchase 2012 diary. Love, love, love filling those blank pages with exciting plans for the year ahead and, yes, I have written in the front '2012, the year I get published'! Are you listening, universe?

5. The very tiny Daily Prophet newspaper and the stained-glass windows in the Lego Howgarts castle (courtesy of Santa). It is a level of teeny, tiny detail which fills me with untold joy.

6. My new 'cat' pen which miaows and lights up bizarre blue eyes when you press the top of its head. Writing by hand is fun again and smacking its head on the table to produce a 'miaow' is a great stress reliever.

7. Left over chocolate orange - yum.

8. Lying in bed listening to the storm outside - surely there is no other feeling which fills you with such a sense of security and comfort.

9. Caitlin Moran's 'How to be a Woman' which I am completely loving and chuckling along to. She is a very funny lady, if a little bit naughty and rude.

10. The King's Speech - watched it for the first time the other night. How I love, love, love period dramas. Fabulous.

11. Florence and the Machine 'Ceremonials' - uplifting, soaring, beautiful music which, as I tweeted this week, makes me want to own a harp and several floaty dresses. Simply gorgeous.

So, that's a pretty good start to the first week of January is it not. Of course, I will now have to go and shout at the kids for wrecking the Hogwarts castle and will regret scoffing all those buns from the cake stand ('start Monday' as Peter Kay would say), but all in all, all is well with 2012 thus far.

And long may it last.

Happy New Me

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 10:49:00 +0000

So, Christmas is over. We've all eaten our way through too many chocolate oranges and are left feeling, let's just say, a little 'festive' around the middle. Generally, I'm not a fan of the 'post-Christmas/pre-New Year' week - it all seems a little forced and makes me realise how much I love my routine (even though I complain endlessly about that routine when I'm doing it). Also, the Christmas trees look very sad after Christmas, don't you think? Like they're trying really hard to still have a great time, with all their lights and baubles, but just ending up looking a bit tragic. Anyway, I digress....

So, it is with great delight that I realise we've reached New Year's Eve and with just a few more hours of excess to get through (that means you, box of fudge) I can look forward to starting on that detox I've been promising myself since, erm, this time last year and can happily put the gin bottle away for at least a month and not miss it at all (crosses fingers).

I'm also looking forward to a fresh start with my writing in 2012. I have watched several of my friends achieve huge breakthroughs and fantastic writing success in 2011 which has been hugely inspiring (yes, I am talking to you Maria Duffy and Jane Travers). Anyone who has followed me from the start (March 2009 - check it out here if you don't have anything pressing to do) will know that I've loved my blogging journey and have been pursuing my dream of being a published author at the same time. There are various posts around my blog explaining my writing journey (sorry - am a bit too full of stilton to think of a better word at the moment) and am delighted to be in a very happy place at the end of 2011 with a fabulous agent, Sheila Crowley of Curtis Brown, two 'near-miss' novels behind me and a notebook full of fabulous ideas which I just can't wait to get started on.

I also recently started writing a guest blog called 'Carry on Writing' for writing.ie which will follow my writing trials and tribulations during 2012 and I will also be continuing with my book review blog 'Off the Shelf' for hellomagazine.com. Hot off the press, Jane Wenham-Jones has also mentioned me in January's Writing Magazine which is rather exciting and in a lovely pre-Christmas Tweet, Vanessa O'Loughlin at Inkwell Writers mentioned me as 'one to watch in 2012'. Now, if all that doesn't give me the prefect excuse for an extra glass of champagne tonight, I don't know what does.

You may, or may not, also have noticed that I am no longer @hotcrossmum on Twitter, having decided, finally, to be my real self @HazelGaynor. Hot Cross Mum, the blog, will continue to be a place where I muse, rant and ponder all things child/parent related, and other things besides which catch my attention, but as far as my writing career goes, I shall henceforth be known as, well, myself!

So, here's to a fresh start, a blank screen and may the words flow as freely in 2012 as the bubbly will on the last night of 2011.

Cheers to you all and HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Stowells Light Wine

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 14:40:00 +0000

Ahhhh, Christmas - I love everything about it: the songs, the fairy lights, the feasting and the, ahem, occasional festive tipple. I'm not usually one to fret about the colorific content of the liquid I am about to sip in contented enjoyment, but, let's face it, I turned 40 this year and that taut stomach I used to possess (when I was around the age of 14) just isn't going to make a reappearance anytime soon. So, if there is a wine out there which has lower calories than others, I for one am willing to give it a try.

The new Stowells Light is a low alcohol wine at just 5.5% and contains just 60 calories for a 125ml glass, that's 30% less calories per glass than a typical glass of wine. Great news - especially as this means I can now scoff the entire packet of crisps with a slightly less guilty conscience - hurray to that!

Stowells Light White is made from a blend of Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc grapes, and has fresh flavours of melon, pear and apricot. The Shiraz Rose, which I tried, is full of juicy strawberry, raspberry and cherry fruit flavours. Yum to all of the above. Cleverly, even though the wine is low alcohol and low calorie, it doesn't lose any of the flavour and if you like your wine to have a refreshing, fruity taste experience, this could be one for you. There is, of course, a big taste difference from a heavy, full-bodied red, but if you're looking for something lighter - in every sense of the word - I think this could be a big hit.

Clare Griffiths, Marketing Director for Accolade Wines (the people behind the Stowells brand) comments, 'We are very excited to launch Stowells Light. Quality and experience is at the forefront of everything that Stowells does, with a 130 year history as a wine merchant it has a great tradition of innovation. Our research has shown there is significant demand from consumers for low alcohol and low calorie offerings from brands they know and trust. But they are not willing to compromise on taste. We believe we have found a winning solution with Stowells Light'

Stowells Light is available at all ASDA stores nationwide for RRP £5.49.

For more information, visit www.stowellslight.com

Disclaimer

Please remember to drink Stowells Light sensibly.

Modern Languages in Primary Schools - lost in translation?

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 09:08:00 +0000

In Ireland's budget earlier this week, among the many shocking and depressing announcements made, was a proposal to abolish the Modern Languages in Primary Schools Initiative with immediate effect. For anyone not familiar with the initiative, and to understand how short-sighted this is of the government, please read the response below from Tanya Flanagan, National Coordinator of the programme.

'As you can appreciate, we are absolutely devastated by this announcement which comes at the end of a year when we have been congratulated at every review meeting with the DES in terms of how we have continued to maintain and deliver excellent services while achieving significant efficiencies.

We support modern languages in over 550 schools nationally with a core team of just 6 people. We provide training, resources and school-based support as well as funding 300 visiting teachers who deliver the programme in schools nationwide, all within a budget of under €2 million, and not the €2.5 million erroneously quoted in the budget documents.

In terms of policy, we are already years behind our commitments under the Barcelona Agreement and the Lisbon Strategy – these agreements called for systems to be in place to facilitate early language learning of at least two foreign languages by 2010 .….Even more incredibly, all EU countries, including Ireland, ratified recommendations in NOVEMBER 2011 in which we have pledged to “step up their efforts” to implement the Barcelona Agreement!!! Please see - http://register.consilium.europa.eu/pdf/en/11/st16/st16744.en11.pdf

As recently as October the Royal Irish Academy published their National Languages Strategy which called for “the Modern Languages in Primary Schools Initiative (to)be integrated into the mainstream curriculum, as strongly recommended by the Expert Group on Future Skills Needs (2005) and the Council of Europe Policy Profile (2008) document,rather than being limited to extra-curricular time and to a portion of schools”. A Dept. of Enterprise, Trade and Innovation report also quoted in the RIA strategy and states that “the widespread but erroneous perception that ‘English is enough’ militates against the kind of plurilingual ambitions and achievements common in non-anglophone EU member states. The most recent strategy and action plan issued by the Department of Enterprise, Trade and Innovation argues that ‘the main challenge for Ireland…is to become a truly multilingual society, where the ability to learn and use two or more languages is taken for granted and fostered at every stage of the education system and through lifelong education”.

By abolishing the programme, over 14 years of expertise will be lost to the system and a whole generation of our children will be placed at an even greater disadvantage as they try to compete for jobs with our fellow Europeans.This decision will result in the only children accessing modern language classes being the privileged classes who can afford to pay for them – a return to the situation of 20 years ago. It will also result in over 300 more teachers on the live register.'

This video link also captures what is at stake with the Minister's decision to abolish the MLPSI programme.

If you would like to support the MLPSI to get this decision reversed, please contact your local TD, contact the Minister for Education directly at MINISTER@education.gov.ie , visit the MLPSIFacebook page and sign the petition to register your opposition to the budget announcement.

Thank you.

The twelve days of a parent's Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 11:37:00 +0000

To be sung to the tune of 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' (obviously!)

On the first day of Christmas, my children gave to me, a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the second day of Christmas, my children gave to me, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the third day of Christmas, my children gave to me, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the fifth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the sixth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my children gave to me, seven loads of washing, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the eighth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, eight hours sulking, seven loads of washing, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, nine silly dances, eight hours sulking, seven loads of washing, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, ten stones for keeping, nine silly dances, eight hours sulking, seven loads of washing, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my children gave to me, eleven minutes typing, ten stones for keeping, nine silly dances, eight hours sulking, seven loads of washing, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs and a toilet floor covered in wee.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my children gave to me, twelve 'mum, mum, muuuuum-ings', eleven minutes typing, ten stones for keeping, nine silly dances, eight hours sulking, seven loads of washing, six friends for play dates, five stolen things - four rude words, three Ben Ten's, two dirty mugs,

and a toilet floor covered in weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

This post was written for Potty Mummy and Expat Mum who made me properly Laugh Out Loud and inspired me to blog about wee on the floor after some shared tweeting on the matter.

Hot Wheels Wall Tracks review

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 09:17:00 +0000

I have two boys. They have lots of race track for their cars. It spends most of its life in various bits and pieces scattered around my sitting room or somebody's bedroom and I spend most of my life tripping over it, standing on it or hoovering up segments of it. Basically, it drives me up the wall. So, imagine my delight when Mattel got in touch to see if my boys would like to try their new Hot Wheels Wall Tracks, which you can, literally, drive up the wall. Yes please!

The idea of Hot Wheels Wall Tracks is that you assemble the racing track on the wall, where it stays, rather than under your feet. The track comes with a hanging template to help set them up - admittedly my husband took charge of this, but he reassures me that it is quite straightforward. The track sticks to the wall with 3M Command Strips, which you can get from places like Homebase and B&Q - but they also come free in the Hot Wheels box. 3M Command strips are safe and easy to use and don't damage the walls - although there are obvious warnings about using on your lovely new Farrow and Ball wallpaper etc! The sets are all fully customisable and connect to other Hot Wheels sets so you can mix and match to create different race tracks.

I have to admit to being sceptical when I saw the info for the product - would it really stay on the wall? Well, it does and the boys absolutely love it. We have assembled it in the smallest bedroom in the house - an average sized box room of an average sized 3 bed semi (to give you an idea). It is fixed from about half-way up the height and takes up about a third of the space of the longest wall and runs down to floor level. It is also designed to run in a curve around a corner so some of the track is also fixed against the small side wall. Of course, the kids take the track apart and change bits around and forget to put bits back together so some does end up on the bedroom floor - unfortunately no toy is completely mess-proof - but, all-in-all, I think this is a toy which prevents more mess than it creates.

This really is a great idea and a great toy and if you have kids who love their racing cars and racing tracks this is sure to be a big hit. Plus, the novelty factor of having a racing track actually on your bedroom wall is pretty hard to beat! Thumbs up all round from the Hot Cross household!

The starter set is priced around £29.99 and the stunt sets are priced around £16.99.

Disclosure.

Send a letter from Santa with the NSPCC

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 14:23:00 +0000

The NSPCC are hoping to raise over £1.6million from their Christmas 2011 campaign whicih includes a number of simple, yet effective, fundraising initiatives.

Firstly, the Letter from Santa. This has been running for a couple of years now and is a lovely way to support the NPSCC, and bring a little bit of Christmas magic to the children in your family for a suggested donation of £5. The short trailer below tells you more about it.

Or, why not send a personalised NSPCC eCard with a range of animations to choose from or an NSPCC Christmas Bauble which is a great stocking filler and a nice change from socks, ties and the wrong perfume (sigh).

All these activities will help to raise much needed funds to help vulnerable children across the UK. Visit the NSPCC website to see details of all their Christmas fundraising activities. You can also contact the NSPCC on Twitter @NSPCC.

Thank you.

Advent Calendars - Choc or Not?

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 10:30:00 +0000

As Dec 1st approaches, the travesty of modern Advent Calendars will, once again, rear its ugly, chocolatey head and make me sigh inwardly as I leave the supermarket checkout.

Gone, it seems, are the simple, paper Advent Calendars of Christmas Past where you opened a little window and found a lovely picture of a toy soldier or a teddy bear or a robin in the snow. Gone, is the delight of comparing your picture to your sister's to discover that she got a rubbish bauble picture and you got a snowman. Gone is the sheer joy of the Double Window for 24th December which you tried and tried to resist peeking at for the entire month. Gone is the thrill of the Christmas Eve nativity scene which was eventually revealed behind that final, huge window. Gone are these simple, happy advent times.

Now, we have the dubious festive delights of, Peppa Pig, The Simpsons and Ben effing Ten - all with a nasty, cheap chocolate hiding behind the 'window' in a crappy plastic tray which will inevitably be eaten for breakfast because, obviously, the windows are opened first thing in the morning. What, pray tell, is festive about that? Huh? HUH, Tescos, M&S and other offending shops -what do you have to say for yourselves for foisting this annual travesty upon our poor, unsuspecting children? Call me a snob, call me scrooge, call me whatever you like, I would rather consume an entire platter of brussels sprouts than have a chocolate advent calendar in the house.

Thankfully, sense has prevailed among some and there are still a few paper calendars to be found. We have had a UNICEF advent calendar for the last few years - it's a lovely calendar which goes right back to traditions, keeps things simple and does just what an advent calendar is supposed to do - count the days down to Christmas with festive pictures behind each window. We also have a lovely hand-made fabric calendar which, admittedly, does have a little pocket for each day of December, but that doesn't necessarily mean the pockets will be filled with sweets - possibly little notes to the children, or something (when I've got around to thinking about it) but not chocolates every day.

So, who's with me? What's your opinion of the advent calendar - do you choc, or not?

Surprise! It's the Best of Britmums Carnival

noreply@blogger.com (Hot Cross Mum) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 09:20:00 +0000

It's been a while (a year to be precise), but I'm delighted to be hosting the Best of Britmums Carnival again this week. In keeping with the festive season (31 sleeps and counting, people), the theme for this week's Carnival is 'Surprises' which, as it turns out, come in all sorts of shapes and sizes - and, erm, forms.

Thanks to everyone who submitted a post and to everyone who retweeted my Tweets about the Carnival. All that remains is to add a splash of Baileys to your coffee, squirt some cream on a mince pie, sit back and enjoy your fellow blogger's surprises.

First up, we have Maggy from Red Ted Art who offers a lovely way to surprise someone with these very crafty 'No Knit Christmas Stockings' . She also does some surprisingly green washing with her 'Night Time Laundry' tips.

Next is Emma from Mummy...Mummy...Mum who surprised me by sending her Carnival entries before I had even remembered I was hosting one! She tells us about how surprisingly quickly we forget how calm life was before school days in 'The School Run Baby'. From her Science Sparks blog, she also shares a Bonfire Night surprise with her 'Firework in a Glass.'

Luci from Mother Wife Me is a first time Carnivaller and starts her foray into Carnivals with an absolute corker of a post about the mother of all surprises she got from her toddler. Read all about it in 'Surprise - It's a Poo!'

Next, Heidi from Mama Cook shares some surprisingly delicious food ideas for babies and toddlers. Check out her Roasted Courgette Chips and her Swede and Carrot Puree which, she claims, even adults will enjoy - surprised? You betcha.

Cass from Frugal Family tells us about the very sweet and very surprising organisations skills of her daughter in her Proudest Moment.

In a very honest and touching post, Tracy from Green Mums shares her thoughts on how becoming a parent surprised her in many, many ways in 'Well now, that was a big surprise.'

Next to share her surprise is Liz from The Mum Blog who brought a tear to my eye (and restored my faith in the male species!) in the very lovely, 'Thank you, he's beautiful'.

Maria from Tiger Tales shares her thoughts on becoming a mum (and includes some extremely cute photos!) in 'Surprise Surprise!'

Mary from A Small Hand in Mine who was surprised to see her son's classmates wearing their school uniforms with a post about one of those days in 'This morning...'

And finally, I had my own unwelcome surprise recently when my son discovered one of my Grandma's pills and thought it was a sweet. He was surprised to discover that it didn't taste very nice - I was horrified. Read about it here.

Thank you to everyone for submitting these posts which I really enjoyed reading. If you would like to contribute to, or host, a Britmums Carnival, details are on the Britmums Blog here.