Panda Bread - how cute is this?

This has to be the cutest edible thing I've ever seen; panda bread! Thanks to Liesbeth who sent me the link to this cool panda site this morning - after all, whose morning is completely without a panda? The original source is an Asian site called Taro Taro.
I haven't made it yet but it's top of the list. Following is the recipe which I've copied from Perfect Pandas, so the comments are not mine. See the small pics below for tips on how to make.

Panda Bread:
Ingredients:

600g loaf tin (206 x 108 x100h)

230g bread flour

70g cake flour

30g sugar

milk + 1 yolk = 210g (I used skim milk)

4.5g salt

18g unsalted butter (I used 20g)

4g yeast

8g green tea powder dissolved in 10g boiling hot water

8g cocoa powder dissolved in 8g boiling water

Method:1. Heat up milk and yolk to temperature of 38C. (I beat the yolk lightly with milk and send it to the microwave on HIGH for 30 seconds).

2. Put everything in bread machine and set to dough cycle. Let it knead for 20 minutes. Stop the cycle and restart the dough cycle and let it knead for another 15 minutes.

3. Divide dough (about 560g) into 3 parts: 75g for the chocolate, 210g plain and the rest of the dough which is less than 280g for the green tea.

4. Add chocolate to the 75g dough and knead till the colour is even. Add green tea mixture to the 280g dough and knead till colour is even. (I did this step manually).

5. Prove all 3 pieces of doughs on separate greased plates covered loosely with oiled cling wrap for 30 – 40 minutes.

6. Punch air out of dough and prove for another 20 – 30 minutes.

7. Use 90g plain dough for the face and 2 pieces of 27g chocolate dough for the eyes.

8. Fill the hollow of the eyes with 30g plain dough.

9. Roll remaining plain dough over the patterned dough.

10. Divide the remaining chocolate dough into 2 pieces (17.5g each) for the ears.

11. Use 70g of the green tea dough to fill up the hollow between the ears.

12. Wrap the rest of the green tea dough all around the patterned dough.

13. Place dough into a well-greased loaf pan and cover it with a lid and prove for 50 – 60 minutes in an enclosed area eg. microwave oven.

14. Bake at 200C for 25 – 30 minutes.

It's Out!

Yes, Number 2 has lost his first tooth. At 5 years and 5 months he's an early starter but his grown up teeth are right there ready to pop through.

He was so incredibly excited to have a wiggly appendage that we are grateful it fell out within a couple of days so we no longer had to resist the temptation to reach inside his mouth and rip out that little sucker by hand. Carl insisted on grabbing the phone off me every time I spoke to someone to tell whoever it was - and it really didn't matter to him - that his tooth was loose or had just fallen out.

He's now busy with his second wiggly tooth and having heard from the dentist during his last check-up that boys usually change their teeth between 6 and 8 years of age, has announced that he is "actually a bit six already".

Food on the go in Brussels

This week I spent a few days in Brussels at ICONE, the International Conference on Nuclear Energy. It's a huge conference, with over 700 tehcnical papers presented by experts from around the globe, in addition to panel discussions, forums, and networking events.

On the Monday evening after emerging blinking and numbed at the end of a presentation I realised I had about 90 minutes before hte official evening reception would begin. The weather was sunny and it was still early so I did what any sensible woman would do: I went shopping.

Luckily I was staying right in town, just 10 minutes walk from the famous fish market and surrounded by lots of lovely streets. Wandering down the appropriately named Neustraat (New Street) and into the Century2 shopping mall, I had a moment of deja-vu. It was almost like being back in Singapore - this is the first time I've been in a mall since I was on Orchard Road! Ok, this one was smaller, quieter and a little less glitzy than your average Singapore mall but it was close. As hunger pangs knawed at my tummy I searched hopefully for a sushi bar or noodle shop and had to settle for a plate of watery won-ton soup and the worst siew mai pork dumplings I've ever eaten. This definitely was NOT Singapore!

However I did find some nice gifts for the kids, plus some Belgium chocolates for hubby to enjoy. Disappointed by the shoes (expensive) and hand bags (ugly) on offer I decided to call it quits, and spotted this little take-away food stall on the street. I've tried all sorts of take-away food in my time; fish and chips in New Zealand, burgers in the US, croquets in Holland and steamed porked buns in Singapore, but you will never, ever get me to try these take-away snails!

Bonjour from Brussels

Today I´m blogging you from Brussels, captial city of Belgium and a damn fine place to have a meal. That´s about the limit of my observations so far after just a few hours on deck, but I think this place is going to grow on me. It´s my first visit to the EU headquarters and the journey here reinforced how much I love international train travel. I turned up 3 minutes before the train left, didn´t have to endure customs or immigration, and sat reading in comfort with plenty of legroom for the whole journey. People are chattier on trains than planes too: no-one seems too stressed out to say hi and even if you don´t parlez vouz francais hey, this is Europe! - everybody speaks at least some English.

Walking around the central city Brussels lacks some of the architectural charm of Paris but has more space and an equally lovely cafe culture. The big name high street shops give no clue as to ethnicity but the smell of pee in the doorways places you firmly in Europe. This plus the piles of rubbish on the street - I guess Monday morning is rubbish collection - were a little underwhelming but it pays to keep an open mind.

Look Mum - no side-wheels!

Carl has passed one of life's initiations into the Big Kid's world; he's finally riding his bike without side wheels. For weeks he has simply refused to even entertain the thought. The joy of whizzing along at break-neck speed on his little bike and the ability to execute 90 degree turns without fear of falling off were apparently thrilling enough.

However he finally agreed to give it a crack and now there is absolutely no stopping him. Running along beside your kids' bike holding on them until the moment you judge them able to maintain their balance and not crash into parked cars is obviously a Dad's job (at least in my universe), which meant I was able to capture the moment on film. Here's our little boy, suddenly looking all grown-up. That's Niels you can hear yelling encouragement from behind him!

Strubbet Kinder Boerderij- for those familiar midgets

Living in the Achterhoek - the word literally means 'back corner' although those who are in a less generous mood or perhaps pining for the bustling metroplis of their former tropical home may call is the arse end - of Holland has several advantages, not all of them immediately obvious. No, we can't get digital tv. But we do have a couple of good kinderboerderijen - that's petting farms to you non-Cloggies out there. The closest one to us is Strubbert, on the main drag between Lochem and Holten. It's of course been about 3 years since we last visited, so it was all new to the boys (again).

Actually there's not that many animals to pet, apart from baby goats so cute I had great trouble restraining myself from stuffing one in my handbag and just leaving with it. I'm sure those minature goats would happily live in the rabbit house...

...this isn't a criticsim by the way; I can't imagine that many animals like being harrassed by kids chasing them around all day and the expressions on the donkeys and lhamas faces didn't encourage me to try and sneak into their enclosures. Kids should be taught to repsect an animals personal space, not treat it like a piece of playground equipment.

There is however a good playground, spread over four hectares, plus a maze, flying fox, and lots of other cool stuff to play on. The day we turned up was Smurf Party!! Fun!! For Everyone!! The combination of all those exclamation marks and the sight of blue-painted men and women leaping manically around and speaking in squeaky voices soon induced the peculiar sensation that someone may have laced my coffee wtih a substance rather more psychedelic than sugar, but the kids loved it.
It's a nice relaxed place to visit if you've got little kids and I imagine we'll be there again this summer for a couple of visits. By next year Niels will no doubt consider himeself far to grown up to visit such a place, so I'm going to fit in as many baby goat cuddles as possible before then. Perhaps I could just stuff one down my shirt on the way out...

To Sleep, Perchance, To Dream...

Niels is having trouble falling asleep at night. I don't know how common that is for eight year olds, but over the past couple of months it's become more and more of a problem. Partly it's to do with the long hours of sunlight here in Europe; the tropics were perfect for sleepy children with sunset falling suddenly and completely at 7:15 every night like a warm blanket.

Over here we've just had the longest day of the year and it's bright sunlight until 10pm and later. Light-proof blinds haven't solved the problem with enough light sneaking around the edges to keep him awake. Plus, who knows what else is going on in his little head. Niels has grown so much over the past few months, both physically and mentally, that perhaps it's just hard for him to switch off at night. Carl doesn't help of course: the two of them will keep each other awake, crawling into or under each other's beds to giggle and playfight until I'm ready to tear my hair out and the neighbours must wonder why I go charging up the stairs ten times a night.

But all this is about to end. Hubby and I have come up with The Plan.

Step A: we have blacked out his west-facing window completely with thick cardboard. Not the prettiest solution, but effective.

Step B was a 'sleep drink' for Niels: warm milk with honey and an aniseed flavoured sugar cube, which is a popular night cap in Holland. Hey, we're desperate here people.

Step C: new rules for bedtime stories. Henceforth I will read to them in my bed, one kid propped up on either side, and they must sit quietly and listen. No drawing, no flicking through other books, no wrestling/ fighting/ swordfighting/yelling/bouncing....you get the idea.

Step D: Last night I downloaded an album of meditation sounds for Niels from iTunes, one of those hippy tracks of waves gently breaking on a beach. It was indeed mind-numbingly hypnotic, and it was all I could do to stay awake long enough to download it. That will fix the little sucker, I thought.

So tonight we put The Four Step Plan into action. First the sleep drink: that went down a treat and I could barely prevent myself rubbing my hands together with glee waiting for the placebo effect to kick in.

Next was storytime; this went reasonably well, both boys first signing a 'contract' promising to behave themselves and even adding points of their own. Which just goes to show they DO know when they are being right little sods.

Finally, the waves. Niels snuggled into bed, eyelids drooping, as I drew on his back with my finger in a last bid to relax him. I then softly padded out of his room, ready for a cup of coffee in front of the tv. I almost felt like offering up a little plea ("God help me to change the things I can, accept the things I cannot, and not to throttle my son's when they refuse to sleep at night then wake me a 4:30 am by bouncing Action Man off my head....)

5 minutes...so far so good.

10 minutes...bathroom door bangs upstairs - hopefully that's just Carl.

15 minutes...I'm trying to ignore the noises but it's getting hard.

16 minutes...footsteps on the stairs and I huffily intercept Niels. "Sorry Mum but I needed to go to the toilet and Carl was already sitting on it..."

Shit.Shit.Shit. Go upstairs to discover that not only is the bathroom floor covered with pee, the mats are soaked, the rubbish bin splattered, both boys pj's were wet, and Carl...what are those two large wet stripes across the front of his shirt????? OH.MY.GOD.

So then I went through the whole palavar of stripping them both off, pushing them into the shower to wash pee off legs/arms/feet/hair/chests, chucking the bathmats and clothes (and one of our good fluffy bath towels which Carl had used in a fruitless attempt to mop up the pee) into the washing machine. Grumpily shove the giggling boys in the direction of their beds before getting the gear to clean the floor/walls/toilet/rubbish bin etc. With a final snarl warning them to stay in their beds I re-started Niels hippy wave track, tidied away the cleaning stuff and stomped back downstairs. I sat down and was glumming staring at the congealed milk on top of my now cold coffee, wondering why these things always happen after a really long day at work when I heard footsteps on the stairs again. The door burst open and Niels marched in and announced:

"And your stupid sleep drink doesn't work anyway!" before retreating back upstairs.

Pic from ICanHasCheezeburger

What a screamer

Normally I am not a squeamish person. With the notable exception of cockroaches; after all it was an absolutely horrendous encounter with a monster cockroach which prompted me to start this blog as a cheaper alternative to therapy. But apart from that, spiders and bugs don’t generally freak me out. I still have a photo on my iPhone of a dead spider the boys and I spotted just before leaving Singapore and you have to admit, my naked toes are fearlessly close to its (admittedly dead) form.

However a couple of weeks ago I was rummaging around in the stationary stores at work with Jeanette, moving boxes of envelopes when I had a typically girlie hysterical over-reaction to an innocent spider. Jeanette was standing behind me and as I moved a box she shrieked “AAAAAHHH lookout-lookout-spider-spider-spider!!!!”
Assuming she was just scared of spiders I carried on with a calm “Really, where…”
When suddenly the UBER-SPIDER FROM HELL scuttled across the lid of the box just centimeters from my hand. This behemoth had clearly spent the winter devouring every other spider and insect in the building, had finished off the mice and was now moving human flesh to the top of its menu. Of course I screamed…then Jeanette screamed again….which made me jump and scream even louder…!”
This could have gone on all day but fortunately we realized we were now standing on the other side of the room clutching each other in panic. Two professional women standing in the basement of their workplace shrieking like children at a bug. We cracked up laughing, not only at the silliness of it all but the fact that not a single colleague popped their head out to see who was being murdered in the stationary cupboard. I went back to my office feeling quite silly.

But I am never sticking my hand in that cupboard again...

Forever Young...

People quite often ask me if I miss living in New Zealand. I wish I could show them this every time they ask that question...

...then let them draw their own conclusions.

MUGGED!

Before you pick up the phone in a panic Mum, I'm fine; it's one of the kids that was mugged. Figuratively that is. We've noticed that whenever Carl is in the garden he instantly acquires a New Best Friend: Rocco. This wiley old bunny has figured out that the youngest bi-ped in the pack is frequently expelled into the garden to avoid making a mess with whatever he's eating. And that provides plenty of hunt-em -and-grab-em opportunities for somebunny.

At first Rocco sidles up to take a sneaky sniff at whatever Carl is eating under the pretext of getting a pat. He's not fussy, but his preferences run to anything high-carb, hi-sugar, and vegetarian. Other than that you'd be surprised how flexible his tastes can be considering his standard diet is grass, hay, grass, pellets, and more grass.

On this particularly occassion Carl had plopped himself down for an impromptu picnic next to Rocco's sandpit. Most people make the mistake of assuming the sandpit is for the kids; a mistake soon rectified once they see Rocco huffily rearranging any toys that have been moved, smoothing sandcastles he doesn't approve of, and re-excavating tunnels crumbled by careless bi-ped feet. It's his sandpit.

Carl's second mistake was to be clutching a plate of peanut butter sandwiches, an irresistable treat from the Gods for somebunny. Some crafty bunny anyway...

Luckily I was on hand to snap some pics of the mugging, although I unfortunately didn't get the final snap in which Rocco made off with his head held high, ears flapping wildly, wobbly bottom jiggling with effort, half of a peanut butter sandwich firmly clenched in his teeth. Of course he wasn't allowed to keep it - that would REALLY upset his gut - but he was allowed a piece of the crust and got a cuddle for a good effort.

Skip To The Loo...

The other day hubby and I were talking about when we will make our next trip to New Zealand to catch up with family, which would of course include a stopover in the ever-lovely Singapore (sigh, I miss you still!) when it occurred to me I had never published to photos of the fabulous loo at Singapore's Changi Aiports new Terminal 3. I know, weird subject for a post, but I DID promise here that I show you the pics I very serruptiously took on my phone during my last trip thru.

Ok, there may be some very posh restaurants with nicer toilets and admittedly there was no one to pass you a fluffy towel to dry your hands, but hey, this is an airport people. A very public space used by thousands of commuters. Compare this is the fetid pits of stagnant doom available at Deathrow oops I mean Heathrow airport or the stark and clinical (although usually clean) cubicals at Schiphol, Amsterdam. It's another shining example of how when the Singaporeans set their minds to doing something, they don't often get it wrong.

Het Land van Jan Klaassen; Local Fun For Everyone!

One of the inevitable side-effects of moving back to the sleeply little village of Lochem is that the kids are starting to crave more sophisticated entertainment than just cycling with their mates. Frankly, they've been spoilt with world-class entertainment choices in Singapore so I've been trying out some of the local attractions to see how we can amuse them. Today I returned to the Land of Jan Klaassen fun park, which I last visited with Niels before Carl was even born. Needless to say, he didn't remember it.

Located in Braamt, which is almost a suburb of Doetinchem for those who don't know the area, the park is aimed at kids up to about 8-9 years old. You won't find any roller coasters here; the only rides are two identical, rather sedate little trains, one inside, one outside. Fortunately the place caters for all weathers although if you were restricted to using just the indoor play space it wouldn't be half the fun. Outside there are loads of different climbing structures, slides, etc many of which are loosely based around rather odd looking Jan Klaassen, who seems to be the Dutch equivalent of Punch from Punch & Judy. Oddly, flagpoles flying flags from all around the world are dotted throughout the outdoor park, with absolutely no relevance whatsoever to the play area they are standing in. I spotted the Aussie flag and was puzzled to find a swing with orangutan shaped seats, a walrus slide and climbing frame looking suspicaiously like an alpaca! However it's definitely worth a visit and there are dozens of small, individual play areas crammed onto the site which kept the kids busy for ages.

In addition there are puppet theatres held three times a day; my kids caught two shows and found them side-splittingly funny. I suggest taking a good book and finding a comfy seat in the cafe for the duration!

The entry price is EUR 9.50 per person, whether you are an adult or a child. However we arrived at 10:30 and left at 4:15, when I dragged thm to the car, so it was a good days entertainment and one they are willing to go back to soon. You're allowed to take your own food and drink into the park, and on a sunny day it would be perfect for a picnic. Check out the website for more details.

We Are Sailing...

More accurately, the Aoka Mizu is no longer sailing, she is finally on location in the North Sea, about 120 nautical miles north-east of Aberdeen. Perhaps you can just pick out Holger on the bridge.
At long last, she is being connected up to the subsea risers that will soon be pumping a mixture of crude oil, natural gas and seawater through the on-deck processing plant. There the crude will be separated then stored in the vessels huge hull tanks, to be emptied by a shuttle tanker once a fortnight or so. The sea water will be reinjected back into the sea bed to maintain the oil field pressure, and some of the natural gas will be used as an energy source on board with the rest being exported to shore via an undersea pipeline.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Eagle has landed.

*Photo by Hans Verleur

Ups And Downs

Sometimes it’s hard to tell if you’re doing a good job as a parent. Given enough food, care and exercise kids grow as naturally as house plants I guess, but it’s hard to tell what’s going on in their little heads sometimes and whether what you’re doing is the right thing. How often have I wished our boys came with a manual! Even just the Top 100 Tips would be a bonus, and don’t think I haven’t tried reading all the parenting textbooks out there.
Still, sometimes we get glimmers of hope. Niels had a friend over to play this afternoon and I picked them up from school in the car on the way home from work. They were both quite excited and buzzing about getting home to play when I heard Niels say “I’ve got a cool Mum, huh?”
I could have reached back and planted a big kiss on his shiny little forehead, except that would have blown all of my street-cred right out the window.
I felt particularly relieved because last week we had a rather fraught day which culminated in me sending Niels up to his room, while I narrowly resisted the temptation to rip off his sarcastic little head and drop kick it into the garden. He stomped up the stairs before spinning around dramatically half-way up and snarling at me “And I thought I had a NICE Mummy!”
Touché.

Potato & Tomato Bake; Super Yum 2!

Potato & Tomato Bake

750 g even-sized potatoes

750g tomatoes - go for yummy on-the-vine ones for best flavour
4-5 tbsp olive oil

1. Heat oven to 190C/ fan 170. Thinly slice potatoes. Put in a pan with water cover, bring to the boil, simmer 3 minutes then drain well. Slice the tomatoes.

2. Brush oil over the base and sides of a 1.5 litre ovenproof dish. Layer up half the potatoes, sezsoning well and drizzling with oil as you go, then cover with half the sliced tomatoes. Repeat, finishing with tomatoes.

3. Bake for 45-55 minutes, until top is lightly browned. Serve warm or at room temperature. You can easily cook this the day before.

Tip: For a vegetarian main course or a more substantial accompaniment, add 150g grated emmental or feta, crumbling half under each layer of tomatoes.

Vegetable & Goat's Cheese Terrine; Super Yum!

I know, I promised to upload some recipes ages ago but it's not my fault, honestly...my laptop is about to die a horrible death and desperately needs to be re-formatted and frankly I can't face doing it at the moment. So I've already done this post, and lost it, and tried again...and this is my third and final attempt. Fingers crossed.

This is a seriously delicious, totally impressive and incredible EASY dish to serve guests. I served it as a side for a large dinner party; it could easily be the main dish for a vegetarian meal, especially paired with some crusty rolls and a chilled white wine. All credit goes to Chef Alex Mackay, and I got the recipe from the fabulous BBC Good Food magazine, date May 2003. Yes, 2003. Enjoy!

Provencal roasted vegetable and goat's cheese terrine
Takes 1.5 - 2 hours (plus pressing). Serves 8. Vegetarian and really healthy.

INGREDIENTS
2 red peppers
2 yellow peppers
100 ml virgin olive oil
1 large head of garlic, in cloves, unpeeled
a few sprigs of thyme
2 bay leaves
1 really large or 2 medium aubergines
juice of 1 lemon
2 x 150 g soft goat's cheese (round logs are most convenient; ash coated varieties such as St Maure are recommended, not compulsory).
Sunblush or sundried tomatoes, to serve (ie optional).
FOR THE VINAIGRETTE
100 ml virgin olive oil
1 small bunch of basil
zest of 1 orange (simply peel, this will be discarded later), and the juice
pinch of caster sugar.

1. Preheat oven to fan 170C / conventional 190C. Quarter peppers lengthways. Remove seeds and stems. Arrange pepper quarters skin side up on an oven tray and drizzle with a couple of tablespoonfuls of the olive oil. Sprinkle with salt and throw in 3 garlic cloves, some of the thyme and a bay leaf. Cover the tray tightly with foil, then roast in the oven 45-55 minutes until the peppers soften and start to turn brown in patches.
2. Meanwhile, cut the end off each aubergine and cut a slice off lengthways so they sit flat, then cut into thin, neat slices. Arrange on lightly oiled baking trays, in a single layer so they cook evenly. Drizzle with the remaining oil, turn the slices in the oil, then squeeze lemon juice on top. Season well and add the remaining garlic, thyme and bay leaf. Roast uncovered with the peppers for 20-25 minutes until softened and lighty browned. Remove.
3. While everything is roasting, rub the inside of a 1.4 litre bowl with a little oil, then line it with two layers of cling film so it flops generously over the edge. Press the film against the inside of the bowl with a clean tea towel - this will give a neater finish.
4. Remove the roasted peppers from the oven but DON'T UNCOVER (this lifts the skins off). Leave for 10 minutes ( or more) to cool, then peel the skin off the peppers with a paring knife. Don't worry if you can't get all the skin off, it doesn't matter. Set peppers aside with the aubergines and roasted garlic.
5. Line the bowl with the long slices of roasted aubergine, placing them upright and overlapping each slice, leaving a little peeping over the top of the bowl.
6.Arrange a couple of pieces of red and yellow pepper in the bottom of the bowl and slightly up the sides. Press down with your fingers.
7. Slice one of the goat's cheeses and lay half the slices over the peppers in the bowl. Place half the remaining yellow peppers in a layer over the cheese, followed by half the remianing red peppers. Repeat with layers of the remaining cheese slices and peppers, so they are all used up.
8. Fold the ends of the aubergine slices over the red peppers to form a flat top. Use any broken bits to fill in gaps. Press and pack everything down with your fingers. Bring the excess cling film over and prick with a sharp knife so that any excess oil can escape. Cut out a circle of cardboard slightly smaller than the diameter of the bowl and wrap it in two layers of cling film. Put this on top of the aubergines and then add weights, eg cans. Leave to press in the fridge for at least 12 hours (I make it the day before).
9. To make the vinaigrette, gently heat the oil until just lukewarm. Roughly chop half the basil (reseve the rest for garnish), then peel and slice or halve 3 of the roasted garlic cloves. Add to the oil along with the orange zest and juice and castar sugar. Pour into a bowl and leave to mingle flavours (overnight if necessary). When ready to serve, strain and season with salt and pepper.
10. To serve, remove the weights and card, unfold the cling film and turn the terrine out by placing a plate over the bowl and inverting. Drain off any excess oil and peel off cling film. Slice with a sharp kife, supporting with your hand as you do so. Finish with a dribble vinaigrette.
You can garnish with the left over basil and the sundried tomatoes if you liked; I simply topped the terrine with the 'bits' I strained out of the vinaigrette for decoration before serving which looked fab.
Enjoy!

Monkey Boy

Carl is definitely the monkey in the family and is very proud of it. He chatters constantly, his favouite toy is a monkey, and as he proudly tells anyone who will listen, he was born in the Chinese Zodiac year of the monkey too. No surprise then that his favourite pair of pyjamas are covered in capering monkeys, bought from the incomparable Shophouse Fair in Singapore.
They've been packed away since we left in December and he was overjoyed when I unpacked his summer clothes in the weekend and there they were. He immediatley stripped off and pulled them on, looked in the mirror and yelled "Ahhhhhh! Someones cut bits off my pyjamas!!!!"

We never realised how much he has grown in the past five months!

Happy 8th Birthday Niels

Actually he's 8 until May 16, but as hubby is heading back to sea on Friday we held the 'grown ups' party a week early. Luckily the weather was beuatifully spring-like and we were able to sit outside for the duration. It was a chance for us all to catch up with our good friends Maria and Sandrino whom we hadn't seen since before moving to Singapore, as well as their cute little daughter Laura, who is about six months younger than Carl. He was fascinated by the thought of a little girl coming to play who was not only the same age as him, but also bi-lingual as well. Imagine! Another kids just like him! Amazing!

Just before she arrived I heard him brushing off his dusty Mandarin phrases in a non-too-subtle attempt to sweep her off her feet as a fellow linguist who could shakily lay claim to three languges. What a flirt. Fortuantely they both speak Dutch, not that it matters much with Carl because he will do all of the talking, anyway. Within half an hour she had recovered from her shyness at being surrounded by strange people and her and Carl were inseparable for the rest of the afternoon.

In the Netherlands it's traditional to fly the flag when your kid has a birthday, so in true patriotic style you can see both the Dutch and New Zealand flags flying, which Niels in particular thought was cool. The neighbours probably just wondered why we were flying a British flag. Or perhaps it's Australian...?

Niels was of course the hero of the hour and was only too keen to hold court witha captive audience, slipping into the role of Master of Ceremonies as naturally as if he'd been rehearsing all week. He seriously announced when the food was ready, when the cake was coming, and when we should all sing. Talking of cakes, I had spent a good portion of the morning preparing his Spitfire cake - yes it had to be a Spitfire in the end - which was challenging to say the least. It was during the most stressful moment when the licorice propellor blades kept falling out of the damned chocolate egg propellor hub that I glanced up and spotted an old guy walking his dog past the house. I say walking but actually I know him and his wife well - they delight in stopping on the footpath where they think they are concealed behind the playhouse and allowing their mutt to roam up our driveway to the gate where it goes crazy trying to get at our rabbits, which of course run loose on our lawn. I've tried politley asking the wife not to do it because it freaks out the bunnies, is extremely mean and just plain antisocial - the dog is wandering on OUR property afterall - and yet they do it every bloody day, every time they walk their dog. Well he had seriously picked the wrong moment to stop. With camoflage green icing still dripping from my fingers I marched out and gave him a BLAST in my best polite-but-oh-so-vicious Dutch, accusing him of being the antisocial butthead that he obviously is. He strode off, yanking the mutt behind him and I returned in feeling vindicated and righteous until I saw hubby cracking up inside the house. Well, at least I felt better and the adrenline rush propelled me through the rest of the day.

The rest of the day went without a hitch, and it was a chance to try out loads of new dishes which were a big success. On request I'm going to post some of the recipies here in the comin days, so get ready to skip those if you're not interested.

OMG It's Another Birthday

We are in the throes of planning another birthday party - Niels is turning 8 shortly and we want to have both the 'grown ups' and the 'kids' parties before hubby returns to sea next week. Hopefully the incredibly crap weather will brighten up so we can celebrate it outdoors, something we've been able to do since the year he was born. While sorting out the party streamers, paper napkins, cups and whistles decorated with Play Mobil pirates which I brought back from Singapore (how I miss the party shop in Great World City!) it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't posted about Carls 5th birthday way back in February.

Before you all nod sagely and say that this only confirms you're suspicions that the only reason I had kids was so I could poke fun at them mercilessly on my blog, I must point out that I was in New Zealand at the time, and Carl was in Sweden. He celebrated the day in fine style with TWO birthday cakes which, oddly enough, were eaten for breakfast. They were seasoned with piles of sweets and washed down with sweet drinks, and I can only say that I was pleased not to be there to try and contain Carl and his brother once all that sugar hit their system 30 minutes later.

Fortunately they were surrounded by metres of snow, and few things burn off a kids energy quite so efficiently as running around in ten layers of clothing trying not to slip over on the ice or trip up in the powder.

My sister in law kindly provided a cake, which hubby decorated with Bob The Builder toys he'd secretly smuggled up there from home. This is Carl's third Bob The Builder birthday cake in his life, and I can't guarantee he won't request another for his next birthday.

At least it was easier to assemble than the daunting task which faces me this weekend: Niels wants his cake to be either a Spitfire or a Hawker Hurricane. Lucky me.

A Koninginnendag Like No Other

Yesterday was the Dutch Queen's birthday celebration, a national day of fun and street parties - not to mention a public holiday - that sees hundreds of thousands of people pour into streets decorated with a sea of flags. It's always a fun day in every town, with about 600,000 people travelling to Amsterdam alone to join in the street parties and traditional markets. It's also a fun family day, with lots of games and events being organsed for kids. Another highlight is the 'vrij markt', the opportunity for kids up to 12 years old to sell toys or anything else they want in the town centres.
We were particularly looking forward to the day for several reasons. The kids are old enough to undersand what's going on, the location had been moved from the centre of town (which is being completely remodelled at the moment) to the huge grass field just around the corner from us, and because the kids had agreed to sell all their old toys. An ideal chance for them to generate some cash to buy new toys, and for us to empty the house of loads of stuff they no longer play with.

The day dawned with a clear blue sky and friendly sunshine, perfect spring weather. By 9:45 the kids were at school with Dad, collecting balloons to which they tied a special name and address tag. These would be released later on and the idea is that someone in Germany, Belgium, or even further afield will post the card back to you and you win a prize. They had a ball playing as many of the almost 30 organised games on the grass field as they could, before stuffing themselves with bright orange 'tompuss' cream cakes in preparation for the market. Bang on 1:45 we rolled up with a cart loaded with toys and two picnic blankets, and found a spot amongst the dozens of others peddling their wares. Niels was in a 'playback show' which was organised amongst the local primary schools, a kind of kids kareoke show which kept him busy most of the afternoon (that's him in the black t-shirt on the right, playing electric guitar).

Despite my trepidation Carl didn't mind parting with his old toys as the money rolled in, nor did he try to wrestle to the ground any kid who walked off with 'his' gear. Admittendly at ten cents per car and the most expensive item costing 2.50 they weren't going to get rich, but by the end of the day he and Niels had 30 euros to share between them. It would have been a perfect day...

...if only a lunatic in the town of Apeldoorn, where the Queen and the royal family were visiting this year to celebrate among the people, hadn't decided to drive his car at high speed into the crowd in attempt to crash into the royal bus. We saw it on the news that afternoon, a surreal moment captured by tv cameras from every angle showing men, women and children being struck so hard their bodies flew through the air to come crashing down in a shower of clothing, lost shoes, and blood. By the time the car stopped - smashing into a momument just metres from the royal bus - 17 people had been mowed down on what had been a beautiful spring day full of fun.
Cheering and laughter turned to screams and horror as people rushed to help. Ambulances and police were on the scene in seconds yet the damage was done. By today the death toll has risen to 7, with 10 more people still critically injured in hospital. As we watched the sickening event unfold we felt that those victoms could be ourselves, we were also out celebrating this day amongst the crowds, any of our friends or loved ones could have decided to go to Apeldoorn to catch a glimpse of the royal family.

It seems unbelievable that this could happen on this most relaxed and fun day of the year - in the past the queen has been kissed by a passer-by, her husband has given a bicycle ride to a pretty girl, and all of the royal family take part in good nautred fun and games without having overt security spoiling the atmosphere.

Now all that has changed with the action of one cruel and selfish person, who having died of his injuries will never be able to offer any explanation (if there could ever be one) for why he did this.

It was a Koninginenndag like no other, and we can only hope that it stays that way in the years to come.