Six month birthday

So much has happened in the last two months, to us as a family, and in terms of Fig’s growth and development, that it’s hard to keep track. The very thought that this little person, who is at the centre of every single one of my days, has only been with us for six months clashes head on with oh my god, he’s six months old already!  So I’ll crack open the bubbly, and he’ll crack open the milk, and we’ll cheers to his first half year.

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A walk through the northern industrial past

One of the things I love about the area I live in is its history: the landscape is littered with relics of the manufacturing might of the Victorian era. Like so many Lowry paintings, the hills and peaks of the northwest of England are punctuated with mills, factories and disused railways (many of which have been re-purposed as stunning cycle paths), and those views, where industry cuts black swathes through the countryside, are some of my favourite in the world.  It was once said that Joy Division’s music was the sound of exactly that, the meeting of the wild moors and peaks that dominate Ian Curtis’s home town of Macclesfield and the industrial clatter of nearby Cottonopolis (Manchester). So maybe my love of this landscape explains my love of Joy Division. On Sunday, Saul, Fig and I went walking along the river in one small Peak District town, New Mills, taking in the ruins of Victoria’s industrial England.

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First food

As Fig approaches six months, naturally Saul and I have started thinking about weaning: the when and the how, primarily. We’ve decided to try to mainly go baby-led (put stuff in front of him, let him pick it up, put it in his ear, smear it on the walls as he sees fit), but with a bit of spoon and mush* thrown in (probably literally) for good measure.  We have started to put a few bits of fruit and veg in front of him already, just to see what he does with it and whether or not he seems ready to start eating.  For eating, read sucking.  For sucking, read licking.  For licking, read placing on tongue and making a funny face. We began with cucumber.

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Legging love

I’ve gotten a little bored with jogging bottom style trousers for Fig, so started to shop around for something reasonably priced but a little more funky. Jojo Maman Bebe offered me the perfect alternative: leggings.

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Springing back into action

Because it’s spring, and because, after the chaos of moving house with a five month old, I feel back in the game enough to start posting again. And Fig’s clothes – most of which he’s about to grow of and produce yet another binbag of things to give away / hoard! – hanging on the line in our new backyard in the glorious sunshine seemed to sum that up. So, as Shelley Long said in 1987, hello again!