social

Nowadays I often wonder what it would feel like, to live in the big city again. Four years ago we opted out and decided to make a massive change in favour of our children's upbringing and our own sanity in terms of social pressures and that whole middle class safety-in-numbers thing. We've always liked to do "our stuff" slightly left of centre and to conform is our idea of hell. We love that we have our imagination and our dreams and aspirations "in tact", like a virgin in a bubble floating through time*, with lots of optimism on top.
You may laugh but to us this was our USP and believe it or not, it really is what keeps us going to this day. We both (him indoors and me) still have our dreams together in our little box and never for one minute have we felt like we're chasing rainbows. I try to define this aspect of our lives but fail miserably each time because I don't like to justify it. It may not have always been an easy ride, what with the odd sacrifice and set-back, but always our little box, drawing us forward relentlessly. "What's THAT about?" I've often wondered, thinking of myself as naive and totally, utterly idealistic. It doesn't last long however; then our dedication and the courage of our convictions come soaring right back with great vigour and renewed energy.
We (here I refer to earthdwellers in general, not just to Mr R and moi) make our decisions by following our dreams and our gut, right? Tell me we're not the only ones. Tell me, that in this supersafe country of caution-loving, risk-hating, money-hoarding individuals, we are not the only idealistic, risk-taking, caution-into-the-wind-throwing dreamers. Tell me it isn't so. Tell me also that 4 years ago there were others like us, in a super-cool city with gorgeous friends and family around them that thought: ok, we're off, we're gonna get us something better/different/challenging/mind-blowing. Obviously both of us have some sort of deep-rooted need to explore and expand/alter the status quo on a fairly regular basis (no..., really?).
So, here we are, 4 years down the Swiss lifeline and my biggest fear is that our wanderlust may set in again. I do hope not 'cos I'm really rather tired of moving, rather happy and raring to go career-wise.

Do I need a bit of reassurance? Do I want confirmation that we made the right choice(s)? Not really. Because today, as I'm sat here in my teeny village I feel like the world lies at my feet. I have the most amazing family, the most incredible friends (local and international) and I have him indoors, the sons and soon a dog.

Plus I have Twitter (alright, and Facebook) and I'd be so dead without them.

This whole post was in fact born from the idea of "giving thanks to social networking sites" (an ode to, if you like) but as often is the case, I got rather carried away and only managed to get to the point here, at the end...

What I'm trying to say, rather badly, is that if like me you have a strong need to socialise, Twitter for example keeps you going, love, doesn't it? It works for me, and I feel like I'm in touch with what's going on in the outside world, in my kind of world. Can't imagine my life today without either one of them.

I have a constant battle with my other half who really struggles with Twitter. He says to me regularly and with much scorn: "Talking to your imaginary friends again?" or "They're not real, you know" (he really IS a very very nice man). I remember to breathe and I let it wash over me. I know he'll "get it" one day. It's just taking him that little bit longer, bless.

*sounds crazy but describes it perfectly, bear with me.

pink month

Just in case you didn't know, October is the month of breast cancer awareness. Therefore, like it says, be aware. Take a moment to check yourself out and go see your GP if you find anything at all that seems strange, different, weird. If there is something, even if that something is barely noticeable, don't say to yourself "it's nothing", just make an appointment and be sure.
I'm sat here with my morning cuppa thinking firstly about the women I know who have been affected by breast cancer directly or indirectly (alarmingly, quite a few) and secondly I'm thinking about myself and the monumentous madness my life would turn into if ever I had to face up to this disease. My children, my husband, my parents, my siblings, my friends... unbearable, how would I cope? My natural optimism, would it be of help here? With any luck I won't ever have to find an answer to these questions. But "aside from non-melanoma skin cancer, breast cancer is the most common form of cancer in women (Pink Ribbon International)" so I feel I'm in there with a chance. 
Yesterday, during one of my lessons, we were discussing what it means to be a genius and by pure chance I was made aware of the brilliant surgeon and oncologist Umberto Veronesi who founded the European Institute of Oncology based in Milan. If breast cancer has touched your life in any way, these two links will definitely be of interest and hopefully of use.
I also came across this fantastic blog (soon to become a book) dedicated to surviving breast cancer, it's an inspiring and dare I say funny read and definitely one for the favourites bar.
Anyway, my tea's gone cold now, must get on with the day.

eric

The decision, after years of toyfully playing with the idea and then discarding it with a nervous laugh every single time, has been made. As a family we have always had pets. Well cats, that is. Right now we have 3 gorgeous kitties. I've always been a cat-person, dogs just never felt right. A bit like a fab coat that looks awesome but the minute you try it on, you just know it's all wrong. That's what the idea of owning a dog felt like to me.
So what the hell happened? Why am I all of a sudden possessed with the desire and need to have a dog? What's that about? This time it's not some superficial whim or crazy fantasy fuelled by my husband's secret desire to have a Pointer of some sort. It's deep, it bubbles up inside me and comes flowing out in great big waves of happiness because I've realised that having made this unheard of decision, feels righter than any pussycat can. There have been outside influences all along, especially of late. My sister-in-law has just acquired a dreamy Labradoodle called Archie, and several of my Twitter-chums have also come out of the blue as rather fabulous dog-owners. Of course there's D., my friend and fellow blogwriter (Salcottroad), who has been a steady, enthusiastic, enlightening and heavy influence where dogs are concerned. She is not only the owner of Max, a superb Kurzhaardackel, but has also recently become mum to Ottavio, the most beautiful Bassett Hound pup that you've ever laid eyes on.
So for years I've been listening with an incredulous look on my face to various friends telling me how they searched high and low for a particular breed and then drove 2 days across Europe to pick up their new little 4-legged friend. Who in their right mind would DO such a thing and why, for goodness sake? I never knew the answer until today. Today the penny dropped. It was probably an insanely wild mixture of emotions and situations, the full moon, my two boys growing as well as the knowledge that I'm not going to have another baby, the husband's and my realisation that we only live once and just generally why the bloody hell not?
It all seemed to become so easy once we decided which dog. That was the key to everything. It unblocked the fear of the unkown and just made it feel like home. We found a breeder and I've already bonded with her in a BIG way over the phone today and on some weekend in early December we are going to drive those 2 days across Europe ourselves to go get our little boy. Nothing weird in that, I can tell you. Imagine, he's not even born yet! But we won't have long to wait, the puppies are due in just under 2 weeks and I know that when my breeder NBF calls to announce their arrival, I will have trouble speaking to her because of my wobbly chin.
The husband, true to form, has started compiling endless lists of names (btw this all feels SO familiar - last time we behaved like this was when we were expecting the birth of our sons). This is all very well, you may say, but what exactly lies behind it, eh? Yes, I KNOW what it's about, call it what you like but an Ersatzbaby is what it so obviously is. Bring it on.
The name Eric is not final but it's a strong contender. And our new dog will probably look not very unlike the one above. Our 2 sons are beside themselves with excitement and we will of course be spending every single day from now until the puppy's arrival in December, talking, planning and dreaming of him. I can already feel the influence he will have on us.
Just for the record: I promise to stay reasonable and not lose my mind over my dog. If you do notice obsessive behaviour on my part, please slap me.

friends reunited

I am excited beyond reason. Do you remember when I told you about my blue and white friends way back? Well, I couldn't believe my eyes this evening when by sheer coincidence I came across this beautiful website. I was just googling "cornish blue butterdish" (my own shattered into a hundred pieces today after being accidentally hurled across the kitchen) and wasn't "feeling very lucky at all" when up from nowhere came this site - obviously pretty brand spanking new and totally, gloriously restyled! For us Cornish Blue lovers this is very good news indeed as there really seemed little hope that the company might survive its recent troubles but bless my knitted socks here it is, taken into new and clearly very capable hands.
They even offer an online gift service... oh and have you SEEN the packaging?
I wish the company all the very best and hope they reach new heights ensuring I shall never be without my dear friends again.
And, get this, they have a blog!

mad

Not much of a feminist me, so I'm not even going to start. It kind of bothers me, actually, feminism. The sheer idea that there could ever have been a difference between the sexes intellectually or on any other level drives me nuts, and that we even had to discuss it and fight about it, bores me. It's all down to ignorance on a monumental scale. I've always been of the opinion that this is a humanistic issue rather than a social one. Of course I'm not sticking my head in the sand, nor am I that stupid to claim that there hasn't been "an issue" of sorts, but I've never felt the need to fight for my right. Then again I was born in '68, which may explain my attitude. Also I've probably arrived at a table that is all set and has allowed me to just go ahead and tuck in. I think what I don't like is feminism amongst my agegroup. That's the (big) difference. So before some of you ladies log off never to be seen again, please rest assured that I'm talking about MY timezone and not eras gone by.
Which leads me straight (?) into Mad Men and my slight obsession with Joan Holloway. I only discovered Mad Men about 4 months ago and it's taken my admiration for American TV show making to another level. Apart from being the most supremely stylish show ever to hit our screens I love it for its subtlety and it's very satisfying attention to detail. First class stuff. Also love it for all the fantastically un-pc things it doesn't say but that are glaringly obvious in the beautiful delivery of its cast. Subtlety can be so wonderful. Plus it's totally rekindled my love affair with America, especially with New York.

a good look

We came across a beauty of a shop on our daytrip to Luzern the other day (well to be honest quite a few but this one's colour-scheme was particularly photogenic). I should have taken more pictures but the shop owner was hovering around and I'm never quite sure if my snapping at their wares and stylish displays is that much appreciated. Then again we all know it ends up here, on t'interweb. Once, on a city-break to Munich visiting my father, I was very snap-happy in a store of sorts (remember this?) and was given a right old telling off for my impertinence. The Bavarians are ever so slightly tetchy though, so I should have seen it/her coming. I tried in vain to explain that I wasn't there to copy or rip off but just to praise and promote. She wasn't having any of it and and it turned into a bit of a mind battle. There was me hoping for closure on what seemed such a trivial misunderstanding. By this I mean a simple smile, signalling her delayed appreciation ie. trust in my regard, but looking at the icy stare, I knew that was about as likely as seeing the Pope in a pair of Lederhosen. I stomped off in frustration. So much for closure. I wonder whether her insistence with me and other visitors will ultimately pay off.
Anyway, in Luzern it was fine, the owner of the above pictured flower shop actually smiled and was not at all bothered. The shop was Blütenblatt and can be found in one of Luzern´s most charming quarters, in the Kleinstadt.

Afternoon tea time

This is what I'm going to have (well, Julie two and me two, obv) just as soon as I've finished typing. In fact I reckon I'll have scoffed my share before I've finished this post. Being an accomplished multi-tasker that shouldn't really present a big problem. Rainy afternoons were made for this. Of course I'd love to stay and write more interesting lovely stuff for you to read but I simply can't. Oh, and I've just noticed An Affair to Remember starring Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr is about to start (thank you, Lord!).

Bye now.

posy

The smallest, simplest things make such a difference. A posy, courtesy of Eveline, whose undervalued concept of selling freshly cut, random-coloured and intensely fragrant roses direct from her walled rose garden in Avegno is one of my absolute favourite spring/summer pleasures. Prices are great too: CHF 1 to 1.60 a stem. She has a large fridge from which you can pick and choose your blooms, and a tatty old till into which you are invited to deposit the relevant amount. The whole transaction is based entirely on trust, which makes it all the more charming. Eveline has 2 fridges laden with roses (does anyone know of a third or even a fourth?), one is, as stated, outside her house and garden in Avegno and the other on the piazza here in Verscio. 

puppy love

I seem to be surrounded by stylish dog owners at the moment and when I saw this I couldn't help but think of my dear friend Dani. She has just become the very proud new puppy mummy of the most gorgeous Bassett Hound you have ever laid your eyes on. All ears and big eyes and huge paws. Beautiful. Her name's Norma and this "Pup Tent" has her name on it, I feel.

Click here to find out more about  super cool Slade Architecture and their fantastic contribution to the annual auction for New York's Design Trust for Public Space.  

Once again this particular style gem comes to you via the rather smashingly wonderful Contemporist.

                              

                                           

shady spot no.3

shady spot no.2

shady spot no.1

The time has come for summer guests. Every year we hope they return and this year, we shall not be dissappointed. The heat is practically unbearable (for some - not for me - and possibly for the houseguests as they arrive from cooler climes) and therefore I thought it might be a good idea to think about shady spots. Here are a few which might take our guests' fancy and which will give them a taste of things to come (you know who you are!). The sunlounger is my particular favourite and in the afternoon there is nothing better than to read ones favourite book and nod off ever so slightly.
We are considering launching as a B&B...

nostalgia

First time back on the computer in 3 weeks! Feels weird and very big and really comfortable. During the hols I've been posting from my iPhone (don't you know it) and after my initial exhilaration at having conquered my temporary inability to write, I soon realised that miniature blogging was about as appealing as applying factor 30 on sand covered skin. Of course I'll never stop loving my iPhone (until I realise that I can't live without the iPhone 4 - which I reckon will be real soon or at least once they've sorted out the signal probs) but nothing beats a good old chunky keyboard where I can blindly and flawlessly tap away without forever going back to correct the ridiculous amount of typos that appear when I blog from my phone. No offence Steve, but you need fingertips the size of chopsticks to type, even when going horizontal.

Anyway glancing over my recent holiday posts, sat here in my holiday blues stance in front of above mentioned computer, I realise that the photos are just a tad over-sized. Funnily it doesn't bother me much, in fact I rather like it and they suit the blog, particularly when taken with my beloved Hipstamatic (if you haven't got it, please do just get on with it). For anyone my age, who loves a little weep while leafing through old family photo albums, then this is the app for you. I've just taken a load of pics of the family beachside and if I didn't know any better, then I'd swear they were taken in 1968 or '72, depending on which fabulous lens/film you choose. I'm sure most of you actually have it already installed, but you never know.

'bout time

OK well that only took a week. To unwind, I mean. Don't know why I'm making it sound like some great, big revelation. Year in year out it's the same story: nothing but tension and apprehension during the first week followed by such total relaxation, that you'd have trouble finding a pulse between the lot of us. Luck would have it dear readers, that the kids have give or take three months off in the summer and we "as a family" insist on taking a ridiculous 3 weeks' holiday (because we're worth it) in glorious posh Sardenia (but we're camping so that's ok), and so we just settle and try to enjoy. Like I said it takes a while but oh, does it happen. We're now "in the zone" after bickering and swearing under our breath for a week, and can look forward to sweet abandonmemt on the sand, in the sea, and by the bar. I was getting a bit nervous this year but what a relief when not a moment too soon it happened after all.

wrap it up

GeoTagged, [N38.89710, W8.87803]

I remember being delighted at the sight of this paper last summer and thinking "oooh, I must put that on the blog" (but alas that was pre-iPhone and therefore inconceivable to post on the spot; and to do it 3 weeks later in the lull of homely doings would seem a bit irrelevant as one of my BIG things is to give in to my impulsiveness). I couldn't resist therefore when I went to our little supermarket for provisions this morning and was handed several little parcels neatly packed in this lovely "Nonna Isa" paper. Simple and lovely, don't you think?

proof?

GeoTagged, [N38.89710, W8.87803]

As if you needed proof that this camping malarkey is all it's cracked up to be and more, right? Here is a peek at a moment this afternoon, post-lunch. Sarongs blowing in the wind and hammock-happiness.

living in tents, part 2

GeoTagged, [N38.89710, W8.87803]

Am deliriously happy that our campsite has WiFi. It's completely changed the whole feel of the place. Well, of the bar at least. All of a sudden everywhere you look there are iPhone users and people sitting at tables under the eucalyptus trees catching up on goodness knows what - it all looks very serious but I bet most of them are either tweeting or on Facebook. As for me I have no laptop, let alone an iPad, but I have pen and paper and a serious bout of writer's/blogger's block. Handwriting though seems to be so NOT the point with this blogging thing. It has to be typed, surely. I did try yesterday to scribble in my notepad (no not the electronic kind, just a plain old hardbacked black 'n red book) and whilst I felt fabulously intellectual and old-school, I somehow couldn't get half the momentum going that my tapping fingers can, plus my hand really hurt. I have my trusted iPhone though (and WiFi!!!!!) and some app that promises to link up to my blog and publish. We will see. I have a feeling the format will leave much to be desired for but as I have some serious catching up to do, post-wise, I really see no other option. My posts will look a bit different over the next few weeks dear friends, but heck, at least I'm writing and seem to have got over the temporary but rather disturbing aforementioned block. All I needed was a bit of sun. And some coffee. And some time off. And to be back here, in our beautiful hideaway. With WiFi.

The Contemporist

I'm not saying it's my ideal house but I just can't get enough of The Contemporist's daily feeds. And a few of you seem to be house-junkies like me so I reckon you'll find the pictures and the articles interesting.This is another lovely example and be sure to visit the blog to view all of the interiors and front views.
Well, I'm not sure about you but I've certainly had my daily fix.

a toast to summer

 It's that time again. It's summertime at Toast. Go see before there's nothing left.

thought of the day...

 A taste of things to come. Full blogpost will follow shortly.