Sadness and Loss

It's been a very sad week for anyone involved in education in Edinburgh, or anyone who has been aware of the news at all. On Tuesday, Keane Wallis-Bennett died when a wall collapsed at her school, Liberton High. I was shocked and appalled when I heard the news, a stark message from the BBC on my phone: child dies in Edinburgh school.

I'm sure many other parents reacted in the same way I did. My heart pounded, my palms immediately prickled with sweat; I leapt to my keyboard and went as quickly as I could to the BBC website. Panic rushed through me: was it one of my daughters? And of course, as soon as I found out it wasn't their school, I felt a rush of relief. Almost immediately followed by guilt. My daughters were fine, but one family would never feel the rush of relief that I did. For them, they are now in a waking nightmare, one which will not end.

I am not sure what to do in this situation. What can I do that would help them? As the parent representative on the Education Committee I have been called upon to comment on the tragedy in a number of newspapers and also television bulletins. I have repeated the same things, "we were aware of the condition surveys, and assured by the Council that the appropriate action was being taken", "parents have an expectation that their children will be safe at school and I would urge the Council to immediately review the condition surveys to check what else might have been missed."

It feels so little. It's addressing the future, what we do next, how do we ensure this never happens again. But it can't change what has happened to Keane, and what her family are going through. I want to be able to fix that. But I can't. It's heartbreaking.

Time for a Break

February and March: 2 months filled with new challenges, great news, and an ever-mounting pile of ironing and list of chores to do in two houses. 

It's been a busy few months in the Law household, and both of our blogs have been one of many things to suffer from neglect.

While Linzertortes has been a little bit more well-tended, that's only because my posts here often resemble a stream of consciousness, and so need less work to put together. Lawhammer! is more neglected simply because we haven't had the time to paint, play, game, or keep up work on the Might Empires project. Here's hoping that will change, although I fear it might need to wait until we have moved house permanently.

And that flitting moves ever so closer. The new spiral staircase is almost in a Flooded Flat, which is one step closer to being able to be sold. Rented Flat with the Fountain and the Piano is in a complete state, but I'm going to start spring cleaning this weekend, I think, taking the opportunity presented by the girls' absence from dance class today to start catching up on all my chores.

And the girls...well, you might have read on Facebook, but they both got granted places at the Edinburgh Music School, further to a successful audition last week. Next step is getting them places at the associated Primary School, counter-intuitively, those places are not guaranteed simply by winning a place at the Music School. So, we still need to go through an out-of-catchment placing request, something I've become quite familiar now I'm on the Education Committee. Fingers crossed there are places in their year groups!

Knowing they'll probably be at that Primary School after the summer is good, because it narrows down the choice of places to live. It's bad, because it's a VERY EXPENSIVE part of the city. You win some...you lose some, but it looks like my budget will be stretched to breaking point in the pursuit of garden and spare bedroom.

Anyway, here's to the rest of March, and to a sunny Spring!

Education Committee

I received an email today from Edinburgh City Council to advise that I have formally been accepted as a member of the Education, Children, and Families Committee, as a parent representative.

I was taken aback by the level of interest in the appointment, as on the day after I was informally appointed, Andrew received a phone call for the local paper asking for me. That turned into a feature and an online article, which you can read here. They sprung some difficult questions on me, which highlighted how difficult it was going to be, representing all of those parents across the city.

The next week, I was again surprised to be contacted so that I could give my opinion on a study about maths homework. I am simply not used to having an opinion that might actually be of interest to anyone.

Despite being a little nervous, I am very excited to participate in local government, and to see how the decisions that directly affect my children are made. Perhaps I'll even be able to blog about them!

We shall see...

Castle Cloudberry Ballet Book Party

A few weeks ago I previewed the Castle Cloudberry Ballet Book Party on Weekend Notes. The girls spent the next few weeks trying to get their mouths round that lengthy title, and at the same time got quite excited at ballet fun on offer.

And there was a lot of fun: crafts competitions, cakes, author signing, a raffle, dance classes, and more.

It was a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Josie and Lori had great fun dancing around:

Lori has just tried some berry juice. It was fizzy. That was unexpected.

Waaaaaaaaah! Ninja dancer!

This is my signature walk, and it's going to make me famous.

She danced for about 15 minutes, then ran over to tell me she wanted to perform in front of "thousands of people"

Ah, an arabesque. Lovely.

And there you go. That was the Castle Cloudberry Ballet Book Party. 2 hours of lovely ballet fun!

Drama in the Department Store

My girls have done a lot of funny things over the years. Lots of them seem to have happened in John Lewis, because that is apparently how middle-class I have become.

 They asked me to tell the "Lori plays Hide and Seek in John Lewis" story on the way to school today, so I decided to write it down.

I started about 30 minutes ago.

It's now done.

That was refreshingly different to the book I am working on for Josie!

Let There Be Light

Who are all the people in libraries, with their notes, and scribbles, and books?

We pop in to Stockbridge Library on a semi-regular basis. It's always filled with interesting-looking people, beavering away among the books. I always wonder what their stories are.

Today, there was one man with unruly hair and suede patches on his arms. He brandished a vintage wooden ruler, and was underlining what looked like lists of names. Was it a code only he understands? Was he picking a team? Some were underlined once, some twice, some were underscored quite firmly. It looked chaotic.

A grey-haired lady, smartly dressed in jeans, ankle boots, and a quilted jacket, had a book about Mary Quant on her desk. Arrayed around with notes, she was mind-mapping, a new shop venture perhaps?

Two young women sat in silent companionship, a wall of jotters sitting between them. Marking, marking, and more marking; they made a mockery of claims that teachers have an easy job with too many holidays.

Who are they all? I wish I knew, so I could say thank you to them for using the library. We need them.

Libraries encourage children to look up for knowledge, not for magical sky fairies.

Ah, my library, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways: 595.789

Redrafting and a Question

Here's the latest news on the book front. A few weeks ago I pushed down all the fear and anxiety bubbling up inside of me and passed over my first draft to a friend to read.

I felt a little bit ill. I take criticism very emotionally, and I was worried about how bad my writing was.

Good News: She gave very positive and helpful feedback to make the book make more sense. It wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be. I can actually take feedback quite well, it transpires.
Bad News: She thinks that it needs to be a bit longer in the middle to make the ending more climactic.

So, now it's back to writing. First up is tidying up all the mistakes and typos and plot holes, and second is adding a bit more adventure in the middle section, third is redrafting the new bits, then fourth is handing it over to my second reading volunteer.

All in all, I can't help but feel that it's going quite well. In May, I had never written anything non-academic longer than about 2000 words. Now I've written 31,000 words of children's fiction.

Phew. I hope Josie and Lori like it!

Interesting Fact For Today: The name Irene is derived from Eirene, the Greek Goddess of Peace (Roman equivalent: Pax).

Eirene. She's the best.

Now for the aforementioned question of the blog title:

Can anybody tell me whether there's a statue of Peace in and around the centre of Edinburgh?

Goodbye Summer, Hello Autumn

I've left it very late for a blog update today, because I've been catching up on the Strictly Come Dancing episodes that I missed at the weekend.

Ooopsadoodle.

Not much going on in Linzertorte land today other than the glitterball and lycra. Yesterday I was at Parent Teacher Consultation:

Josie accompanied me for the first time (they're allowed to in P4 onwards, if parents wish). She was desperate to come, but so so nervous. She confessed to me that she was worried she'd get a bad report because even though she was usually good, that day she and another boy had had an argument about finishing their work. They're certainly right about her being a worrier.

I didn't expect Lori to be perceived as so articulate and expressive with her opinions, but it's hard to see her as that when she has an older sister who is such a chatterbox. Must remember not to put preconceived notions onto second child. They are invariably warped by faulty memory and the passage of time.

Anyway, to round off a good couple of days, here's a picture taken on the cusp of autumn.

I hope it makes you smile as you remember the joy of getting an unexpected ice cream.

I was going to have a competition to see who could guess the two ice cream flavours, but I couldn't think of a prize. Never mind. You can imagine you won. Awesome prize, huh?

Weekend Notes and Some Fun in the Autumn Sun

I've started a new venture writing for Weekend Notes. To begin with, I was just doing it for writing practice, but it's jogged me onwards at the weekends into new activities and fun with the children.

They're certainly feeling the benefit. One of my first reviews was of Stockbridge Market. We've just finished one of the pots of jam we bought. I say we...Lori was the prime consumer of the jam. It was blackcurrant. She loves anything blackcurrant, but especially juice and jam. How much do you think she enjoyed it?

I will show you.

What? I'm meant to be finishing my porridge first?

But my tongue is much better than the spoon.

Never mind. All finished now.

 She likes it a lot? Yes, you'd be right. To quote the little blackcurrant monster herself:

"A very, very lot, Mama."

We've also been out and about to local parks, Inverleith Park was one, George V Park another. That one's still to be written up, but I rather like the selection of pictures to go along with it, especially because it was another beautiful, golden autumnal day. Perfect for playing on the slide. Here's a taster of what's to come.

Yes, I am at the top of the slide.

Yes, I am about to slide down it and take a picture while I am doing so.

Yes, it was brilliant and you are all invited next week.

No, I have never really grown up and having children is an excuse to go to playparks without people looking at me funny.

Yay! Sunny autumn days are just my best.

Raeburn Place = Gauntlet

Trying to walk down Raeburn Place today made me feel like Edinburgh was properly, properly home. I think I met more people I know in that one small length of street than I've ever met in one day in Edinburgh before.

Everyone wanted to chat, even though some of them, and me too, had appointments they had to meet.

When I think about moving out of town when we sell our flat (hah!); it makes me feel very sad and glum. I'm not sure I want to take that step, when such a lovely little village within a city exists just 10 minutes walk from the office.

I could live here, I really could. Except I couldn't., because I'd need to sell a kidney.

So, we'd be stuck in a small flat again (unless the job fairies fly in with an offer to me make me CIO at their special Fairy company selling financial product for the prudent gnome), but would it be worth it to be able to be sooooo close to work?

Andrew tells me I'm putting the cart before the horse again, but I can't help but plan!

How the mouse empire has fallen...

Foraging opportunities are quite rare in a city (no, the bins outside Tesco don't count), so I like to take them when I can get them.

On Saturday, a sunny early autumn day, we had some time to kill before Dr. Who, and so armed with some empty tupperware tubs Josie, Lori, and I headed off to Pilrig Park to search for brambles.

For those of you of a non-British persuasion, these are brambles, also known as blackberries:

Delicious with apple, bubbling away under a crumble topping, or sieved for pips and turned into a bramble jelly.

I keep my eye out for bramble bushes on summer walks and take a mental note of where I've seen big clumps of them. All the better to return in the autumn to gather the glossy, black berries.

They ripen slowly over the course of month or so, therefore to gather enough of them for crumble, you really need a hedgerow or two to harvest.

To begin with, it didn't look very promising in the park. The brambles were peeking over an impassable wall, and I could barely reach a few ripe ones. However, I had spotted some bushes on one of the less popular park entrances a few months previously, so we headed round there and struck black, shiny gold: a brambly hedge.

Scout Josie found this one first. She also informed me about the nettles, and the spiky bits, and anything else that might possibly have caused an injury. Lori just looked at the brambles warily, and refused to come near them after Josie's tirade of danger.

There were hordes of berries, and although there were tracks around the bushes, none seemed to have been  picked. We made our way through nettles and grass, getting further and further round into a bit of land behind a small industrial estate, filling up the tub as we went. Then Josie spotted an open drop about 10 metres down, over an old wall and into another part of the light industrial buildings. Round the corner, and down in a hidden spot, I noticed some sleeping bags, plastic bags, and empty cans of lager. It looked like it had been used by a homeless person, although perhaps not for a while.

At that point, I started to feel a little bit less safe. No-one knew where we were, and very few people would ever walk past this bit of land. One of our tubs was full, so we headed back, checking in with Andrew on the phone to let him know where we were. It's a shame really, that I felt so unsafe a mere ten minutes from home, and perhaps I was overreacting (although a recent assault in the park would suggest not).

And from that horrible note, to more pleasant memories of childhood. I can't go collecting blackberries without thinking about Brambly Hedge.

This is exactly what my childhood was like in early autumn. Exactly. Right down to the little bonnet. 

They are an absolutely lovely set of books for early readers. The Winter Story is intrinsically linked with my own memories of deep snow falls in my toddler and primary school years. I spent a long time  peeking under every stump in a wood nearby to our family home just in case I should happen upon the mice of Brambly Hedge. They hark back to an idyllic time in British life, when mice lived in little hobbit houses in the hedges, and harnessed the water of the nearby river to turn their flour into delicious, if tiny, loaves of bread, and dressed like proper gentlemen and ladies of the country. How the mouse empire has fallen, and left Western civilisation all the poorer for it.

So, in memory of a special early autumn day spent foraging with the girls, and in memory of the watercolour art of the books I remember so fondly, I created this today, rendered in Games Workshop inks and acrylics:

My obsession with the Latin names for things is still very much in evidence.

We are planning a return trip in a week, but I think I'll take Andrew along this time. He can reach the really high ones that no-one else will get!

As for plans of what to do with the brambles, well, I'm going to try a much more homemade Christmas this year, so they might just be helping along some bramble-flavoured vodka for family and friend hampers. Far less complicated than jelly or pie!

And in first place...Pinus Sylvestris!

In my ongoing quest to do interesting things at the weekend, we took a trip to the Botanic Gardens today.

We collected fallen leaves to take home and identify them, pretended to be explorers traipsing through a wilderness, created a bed for passing fairies, and then Josie and Lori insisted we sat at a table for lunch because it had a plaque on it in memory of someone called Andrew Lindsay (Andrew being their Dad, if you didn't know, and me, Lindsay, being their Mum, obviously). They were both very eager to know what each tree was, but because the Botanic Gardens label their trees only with the Latin names, it's not so easy to work out what they're actually called.

Here's a handy interactive site for identifying UK trees from their leaves.

Because of a recurring theme in my book, I am absolutely obsessed with the Latin names for animals, birds and fish right now. I find them fascinating, and I'm trying to remember as many as possible. Cedrus was pretty easy to remember (cedar of various varieties). Acer also seemed to recur quite a lot. My Higher Latin completely failed me, because all I could think of was the computer brand. Turned out they were varieties of sycamore or maple.

I particularly liked the Latin name for Scots Pine. It's English name, which suggests it's somehow unique to Scotland, is particularly misleading. This its range:

The SNP had slightly larger ambitions for the independent state of Scotland than they admitted to the media.

As you can can see, Scotland probably makes up less than 1% of its range.

So, would they continue this blatant misdirection in the Latin name? If they did, then I would have expected Pinus Caledonius, or Pinus Scotius, or something of that ilk. Apparently they decided to go in the other direction and give it a name that couldn't possibly give you any idea of any of its characteristics. In Latin, a Scots Pine is Pinus Sylvestris, which basically means Pine of the forest or woods. And really, aren't they all?

The Pinus Sylvestris was pleased to provide 1st, 2nd, and 3rd prize in this year's Obvious, But Surprisingly Unhelpful Names Awards.

Anyway, the name sparked a little idea in my head. and I'm very much looking forward to getting back to redrafting, editing, and extending from next Tuesday.

Why Tuesday? Because I go back to Burlesque classes at Dancebase on Tuesday night, which means I'll have three free hours beforehand to scribble, type, and generally do an impression of Jo March in her garret (sans little black hat to wipe ink on) on the second floor of Fettes Row.

Oh, and finally...if you have children who are 8+, and live in the Edinburgh area, then you might want to head down to the Botanics tomorrow for an Olympic/Brave inspired activity: archery!

A Christmas Birthday

Lori's birthday is on the 27th December, and it sometimes feels like it's hard to make a clear distinction between Christmas presents and her birthday.

We've tried to make it special, with the aid of Grandma Cook, by making a yearly trip to a Christmas show, or pantomime, for a birthday treat. This year it was Beauty and the Beast at the Lyceum in Edinburgh.

The obvious thing to do with the scrapbook was to use the tickets, but the programme was full of line art and rich colours, and the children were eager to use some of the "pretty pictures" in their scrapbooks.

There were some lovely details in the programme. These details can be useful to cut out and use them to frame the pages of the book:

There were concept sketches from the costume designers, so we mixed these up with the photos of the cast in their costume. 

Unlike some of Josie's pages, Lori can't do as much writing (yet). However, she still likes to add occasional details of her own, and I like to encourage her. A scrapbook can be a really good way to encourage a developing reader or writer to develop their skills.

I'm looking forward to seeing what this year's Christmas Birthday Concert Show Pantomime brings!

Here's a full shot of how one of the pages turned out:

Water Babies

We took a trip to the newly refurbished Royal Commonwealth Pool today, or the Commie, as it's affectionately known to the locals. The training pool was just the right depth (0.95m) and temperature to be perfect for both Josie and Lori to catch up on some much-needed swimming time.

For me, it was a little trip down memory lane. The last time I was at the Commie was when I was at university. Before that, it was for the occasional swimming gala. The first time was when we went to the Commonwealth Games in 1986. Mum couldn't get tickets for the actual swimming, so we had to go and see the synchronised swimming instead. It was really hot as a spectator, and I spent most of the time leaning over to see into the judges' boxes. I think they might have had little monitors to watch the swimmers underwater.

The scary thing is that Josie is the same age now as I was then, and I could really swim by then. Enough that I was keen to go and see all the heroes that I idolised, and had to be satisfied with the synchro.

So, it was with some pangs of guilt that I returned home, feeling somewhat remiss in my duty as a parent. Josie and Lori's weeks are filled with French lessons, piano, Brownies, ballet, flamenco, and next term choir, but they have had to make do with the swimming lessons they get at school.

Promise to myself for the next term? Find  regular swimming lessons for both of them, and slather them with emollient before and after the pool to divert the inevitable eczema flare-up that they both get every time they jump in a pool.

Then, perhaps, when the Glasgow Commonwealth Games make their way over to Edinburgh for the aquatics events, Josie and Lori will be as excited as I once was.

Chasing Butterflies

Well, it's a beautiful day in the City of Edinburgh today. Perhaps the loveliest day of the summer so far. Coincidentally, after my last post about the bravery page, Josie complained of a sore gum yesterday. I had a quick look, and it looked like she might have an abscess starting to form. I made an appointment with the dentist as soon as possible. I don't want anything spoiling our Olympics holiday, especially not a sore tooth.

Josie performed admirably at the dentist. She told me once that she had a sore tummy, and had a little wobble in the chair, but apart from that she was absolutely perfect. The Beano helped, as she clutched on to it, and decided that she would read it straight after.

She wasn't offered a sticker today, presumably because she was in the chair for all of 10 seconds. She decided that was because all the children were on holiday, so the dentist didn't have her usual box of stickers. Whatever the case, it was brilliant to see her cope a lot better than the last time we went, which in turn was a lot better than the time before.

Afterwards, we went to the park. We rolled down hills, and I taught them how to play shadow tig. Then they chased a few butterflies, and a swift. We saw an umbrella in a graveyard (Josie: maybe someone who believes in God left it there for him in case it rains). Oh, to be a child again.

Super Brave Josie!

Progress...slow progress.

The deadline of birthday is in the past, and I'm looking forward to writing at a more leisurely pace. Next self-imposed deadline? Christmas! That's ages away. If I can't get it finished by then, I will be seriously disappointed with myself.

I managed about 500 words today, which is not bad for a school day, and I also went back over the first few chapters. Andrew Law made an excellent suggestion for getting a bit more Edinburgh flavour in the book, whilst still advancing the plot. Result!

Despite not knowing anything other than the bare bones of a synopsis, he manages to come up with surprisingly useful suggestions. I can't wait to see what he does when he starts editing.

 I also did a bit of research on a few historical and mythical figures. It's interesting how many of them are reported to have red hair, and are also supposedly descended from Gods.

 Anyway, I think Christmas is too far away to make an effective deadline, so I've decided I should probably come up with a new one. My birthday is on 2nd August, so that sounds about doable!

Happy Birthday, Josie!

Strictly speaking, I wasn't being entirely honest when I said I had no deadlines. I was (secretly) hoping to have completed the first draft before Josie's birthday, which is today. However, that was always quite ambitious, so I'm pretty pleased with the progress so far despite not having it fully completed.

We went to the Museum of Scotland today for her birthday, and I took the opportunity to do a little more research on the local statuary. The statues of Edinburgh can largely be split into two categories:

1. Historical figures, who are mainly male and close to ground level.

2. Mythical concepts, who are mainly female and adorn the porticoes and domes of neo-classical buildings:

There are a couple of exceptions, but the rule mostly holds true.

I wandered around between the Royal Musuem of Scotland, on Chambers St., and Games Workshop, on the High St. (known to visitors as the Royal Mile, but the postal address is High St.).

It's an area that holds a lot of memories for us. Andrew used to work in Games Workshop, and we lived across the road on the second floor of Geddes' Entry. Geddes' Entry is a Close, which is thin alleyway leading to a common stair. It was built in 1797, and it had a lot of character, by which I mean the floors sloped, and the windows rattled behind the shutters. This is the Close one down from ours:

Anchor Close in the twilight

On my wanders, I was surprised to find a statue of King Charles behind St. Giles (commonly called St. Giles Cathedral, but it's more properly the High Kirk).

I've walked the front of St. Giles countless times on my daily commute, first to Uni across George IV bridge, and then later down the Mound to my first grown-up job. I've walked round the back, to where the statue stands, perhaps ten times fewer, but even then...I would have thought I would remember him. He must have some good ninja skills:

The obfuscating King Charles II

He's dressed as a Roman Emperor, and sits astride a huge horse. He's the oldest lead cast statue in Britain, but originally it was planned to be a statue of Oliver Cromwell. The Restoration of the Monarchy changed that!

I wonder how heavy a lead-cast statue that big would be? And what sound would it make when it clopped down the street? What other statues that I thought were bronze are actually lead? Interesting questions, but they're not getting that final chapter written any quicker!