The Bedside Crow

Justine's Families south east review: November 2009

WE HAVE FINALLY moved house. Having been one of the East Dulwich pioneers from the days when the only lively thing about Northcross Road was the school (long since converted into bijou dwellingettes), and Lordship Lane boasted a Co-op, four butchers, its own dole office, a wild west saloon bar, brothel and public gibbet (okay so I exaggerated about the butchers, there were only three), we have relocated to a leafier suburb where you can actually park outside your own house. True, we are now also ring-fenced by road works which means that the only way the kids get to school on time is by hot air balloon (which drongo was it that decided that every hill in South London should be dug up simultaneously? Ah, that'll be a collective noun of drongos). Meanwhile, not unlike the bargain tins with no labels scenario, we are up to our necks in boxes without a clue as to what each one contains - could be crockery, could be cat food.

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Our life is on the pavement - we are moving.

 

Are we fly tipping Dad? Fred asks.

Justine, meanwhile, has a Tracey Emin moment.

 

    

Five books for new babies.

Justine has a post at Parentdish today.

and on top of everything else, Justine's been doing the ordering again.

Justine's latest Families south east review: September 2009

SO BACK IN the garden again, this time sipping the final dregs of the season; the evening primrose has gone all rampant - the only thing that is, sigh - and the tomatoes are nearly done for, and I'm musing on our first summer in ten years not spent in Northern France. We went to Spain for a fortnight instead, which meant this was also our first summer in ten years that we had lots of sunshine. The following week's camping in the New Forest was a doddle as I had been warmed to the core, like I had a little lozenge of radioactivity glowing within and after a final wonderful week in Aldeburgh - aka Bodenland - let's hope there is still enough heat in me left to power me through the chilling swimming pools of Autumn & the icy changing rooms of winter. Meanwhile, Trasha is starting at St Trinian's and my big gel is doing GCbleedinSEs. There must be some mistake. Where did the time go?

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Look at her, the man says, watching his dog dive into the river and begin to swim enthusiastically.

She looks like Ophelia as painted by Millais, he says proudly, before adding, except that she's not on her back and she's not dead.

And she's a dog, adds Fred.

Not, Justine says later, a conversation you would ever expect to have in Lowestoft. But we are not in Lowestoft.

Justine's latest Families south east review: Summer 2009

AH! SUMMER IS HERE and I am at my laptop in the garden, squinting to make out the screen, breathing in the drifting chemical whiff of a hundred disposable barbecues as our corner of East Dulwich aims to accelerate climate change with a global flip of the Gordon Ramsey burger. It has all gone quiet now but have no fear because at sunrise tomorrow, our neighbours will once again release their small children into the atmosphere to yell in a garden not four feet from my own. I once suffered the ignominy of a smiling delegation from a few doors down who got together to grumble about the noise my own kids were making outside, so I banned anyone under five foot from going near the back door before 10am. They would watch with envy as our cat, Pigeon, lifted the catflap to escape silkily to freedom.

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ooops!

  

Yesterday I went to look at a house, leaving Justine to unpack a couple of boxes. This was the first one that she opened. When I returned I got the *stare* and had to do the rest myself.

Justine's latest Families south east review: June 2009

IF I SOUND a bit bleary-eyed that’s because I was up at 4.15am to get the eldest daughter to school for a trip abroad, though frankly I’m still wondering how it could possibly cost £450 to go to Germany for three & a half days when I could get to New York and back for less than that (in a different life, granted). But she was fizzing because, as the deprived progeny of booksellers, she had never been on an aeroplane before. Well, she had. But she was a toddler and therefore doesn’t remember the shock on the young businessman’s face when he realised he was going to be flying next to a two year old. She was a good girl however on that hot, packed flight, as she quietly scrutinised her grown-up neighbour in a suit. Her eyes fixed to his double scotch, she followed every single mouthful he took as if she was at a tennis match. When he was finished, she asked him solemnly if he was going to have another one…

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Justine's latest Families south east book review: May

TWO YEARS ON the market now and the FOR SALE board outside our house looks decidedly vintage - bet eBay does a roaring trade in collectable pre-crash estate agent signs, alongside rusty enamel Camp Coffee ads and framed cigarette cards. In fact, somebody obviously felt so strongly about ours that they kicked it off its stake, along with another outside a “half house” (in the lingo) down the road. No doubt a rival sales negotiator staggering home having watched The Warriors again with his perma-tanned companions whilst drowning his sorrows on Red Bull vodkatinis. Now that the FOR SALE board is under the hedge where it was felled, it feels like we are no longer selling. So much so that I decided to redecorate the kitchen. Like I don’t get enough punishment.

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And don't forget The Baby in the Mirror event, Wednesday 13th 6.30pm.