In times of tumult I tend to opt for escapism whenever and wherever possible.  If it’s not music it’ll be watching a good film or going for a long walk with my iPod.  This time it has been a set of books.  I hate to admit it (because it would make me hideously uncool…) but I am ever-so-slightly obsessed with Twilight.  No, really.  I cringe when I say it, but having seen the film last year I fell in love with Edward and Bella and Forks.  I am a Twihard fan.

I did the right thing, I watched Twilight and New Moon before I started reading the books.  I would’ve been disappointed if I’d read the books first because the films, though good, aren’t as good as the books.  Now I am in possession of all 4 books,  I am absolutely addicted.  I said I’d hold off reading #3 before Eclipse was released in UK cinemas on 9th July (only 4 1/2 months!) but I will find that incredibly hard as I am now far more addicted than it is healthy to be.  I am skipping meals and forgetting to go to bed, purely because I am so enraptured in their world.

Perhaps it is a sign that I want the escapism more than I should.  Fear not, I’m back to work tomorrow.  And whilst I do have a lunch break, it is too short to prepare food, eat and read.  I’m tossing up whether to just forget the food and read instead (waistline =1, blood sugar =0).  One thing that the books do wonderfully is portray Edward far better than it would be possible to do cinematically.  He is amazing, whereas Jacob plays a very small part, and isn’t described as well as Edward (in book 1 at least).  I thought I might, having watched the film, edged slightly over to Camp Jacob, but reading the books, swooning and giggling like a child (oh god!), I am 100% Camp Edward (oh dear god it’s happened, I am uncool).

If you get the chance, see the film and then read the books – more addictive than crack cocaine, just make sure you wean yourself off them slowly.  I don’t know what I’ll do when I finish all of them.  I’ll be bereft!

You would laugh if you could see out of my window now.  The white carpet of snow, covering almost everything in sight, is getting to be a bit of a burden.  But enough of the snow, there are far more important things to tell you all.  Ok, where to start.  If you hadn’t picked it up from my last post, we will (eventually) be moving to Cambridge.  And this weekend  I have finally had the chance to visit Cambridge!  Though it was only for a couple of hours, I really enjoyed my visit.  I also managed to squeeze an interview in whilst I was there, which went very well indeed.  All in all, we had a nice weekend though opted to spend much of it with my Mum in Lincoln (together) because the thought of staying in Mr. VP’s small rented place didn’t encourage us much.  We wanted a little luxury!

However, I should also explain what’s not been going right… My feelings about leaving Northumberland have been a block to me being able to be happy about the move.  In the last couple of weeks it finally hit home how much I will be losing, and though I try to be pragmatic and objective most of the time, a little black cloud has been sat over my head.  It has involved a fair few sleepless nights and also a couple of crying jags.  Though we both wanted to go, the reasons for this move have seemed to pale in comparison to what we might be leaving behind.  Trying to explain this to myself has taken a lot of work, and I’m still not entirely sure how it’s going to work out.  I am going to be leaving my friends – undoubtedly some of the best friends I’ve ever had – and a job which, though taxing, is at least reliable.  Where I know everyone and I know my job and I do it – reasonably – well.

For Mr. VP it is somewhat easier.  His previous company weren’t great, staff morale was totally absent and he needed a change, though it was me who said it might be the right thing to change companies.  He also has the benefit of being down there now, not hanging around waiting.  So I willed this to happen but it is only recently that the twinges at not being here anymore are making themselves much more felt.  Everyone tells me that I will find a job (probable), that I will get friends (possible) and that all is not lost.  Though my heart is now realising how much I love Leazes Park on Sunday morning, Alnmouth at low tide, Druridge Bay, the smell of the sea and the immense size of everything here.  Cambridge is nice but very small, I am used to Grainger’s huge stately buildings and impressive town-planning. I know I will come to love Cambridge, its quirks and foibles just as much, but I can’t quite let go of the place I know and (hesitantly) love.

I have a book called The Cosmic Ordering Service by Barbel Mohr.  I picked it up from The Speaking Tree in Glastonbury (my favourite bookshop there) last year.  Its premise is simple, the universe wants us to be happy and if we ask for things we will often be granted our wishes (”just be careful what you wish for” was my grandmother’s favourite refrain).  Just as I do believe there is something in this, I also believe that if we have reservations about something, those things we might think we want but are holding back on won’t happen.  I fear this might be what’s holding everything up.  I am trying to find the good in our move to Cambridge and, if nothing else, it is a step closer to where we want to eventually end up; the South West.

This weekend has been an eye-opener and it has made the move seem more like a positive thing.  The lovely Brenda sent me a fantastic email detailing all of the lovely things in and around Cambridge, which did make me feel like I could love it there.  If only I could get my heart to listen to my head I think we’d be alright.  But when it comes to large, life-changing decisions I am rather prone to neuroticism and worrying, can’t you tell?

Today we had our first house viewer.  It was scary and, like the neurotic person I am, I spent the whole of last night and this morning going over the place with a fine-tooth comb trying to preen and spruce it up as much as possible.  The viewers were nice, I don’t think they’ll buy it (the first viewer is never the buyer) but it gave me an impression of what’s to come.  Fingers crossed.  Things are moving ever onward.

Well, it looks like it’s going to be a really hectic weekend.  I will be going down on Friday to Cambridge, driving 250-odd miles in a day (and I’m against the clock as I have to be there by 3pm), dodging traffic and trying to keep calm.

I don’t know what this weekend holds but I think it might be fairly stressful.  And stress is something I’m trying to “give up” for lent (as are general superfluous things in day to day life, be them food or stress or sugar).

Please gather your thoughts and send some positive mojo to me for Friday and the rest of the weekend.  They’re forecasting snow, and the thought of my last nightmare journey in snow turns my stomach.

I had plans on Saturday. Planning things in my days off keeps me busy, keeps my mind active and keeps me from sitting still for too long.  It’s not that I can’t stand still, it’s that I like to be doing something all the time.  I’m a little hyperactive, I am not a sitter, I am a doer.

My plan turned out a little differently to how I expected, but it turned out to be one of the best days I’ve had in ages.  It was so good it bordered upon magical.  It all started out with me getting up late (7.30am! the luxury!) and having a slow start.  Once I had showered, fed the cats, tidied up, done the washing-up and dressed I hopped in the car – it had just started pouring down with rain – and started driving.

I drove all the way up the A1 until I reached one of my favourite towns, Alnwick.  You cannot help but love this place, it’s a town with all the right things.  Nice cafés, a really amazing second-hand bookshop and lots of lovely shops to browse.  Having enjoyed a coffee with a copy of The Guardian I perused the shops – purchased some wool from the wool shop and then as I was driving home decided to stop off at Alnmouth beach.

Just a couple of miles out of Alnwick a gently sprawling bay lies, so beloved of locals and visitors, which is fairly unique to the beaches of Northumbria.  For a start it has rock pools which very few beaches do around here.  I love rock pools.  I was brought up on holidays in Wales and Devon – the jagged coastline providing more rockpools than I could possibly conquer in one day.  It not only has rock-pools, but it has seaweed and with it the “proper” smell of Summer and happy holidays spend with salt in my hair and sand just about… everywhere else.

On the beach it was fairly quiet, only a couple of other people, either dog-walkers or families.  I just walked.  I had my camera and the sound of the waves.  It was low tide, the water just starting to come back into shore, and I walked.  Past Eider ducks in a group, and in the wake of little plovers and what I (think) I have identified as a group of Turnstones (a bird so lovely, that I had never even seen before!).  The Eider ducks are starting to make somewhat of a comeback after their decline due to being robbed of their soft downy nest-linings for eider-down quilts for many years.  Nowadays they replace the down with a synthetic down, so the nest isn’t disturbed but back then no such protective measures were taken.  They are Britain’s heaviest duck (apparently!) but also the fastest-flying and, when they call to one another, they sound like Kenneth Williams saying “Ooooooh, Matron!” (except without the matron bit… don’t believe me?  There is a clip here, just click play!)

Whilst on the return walk to the car I came across a sea-weathered old yellow rubber glove.  Knowing this is exactly the sort of thing that gets lodged in birds’ gullets I picked it up and was planning to take it to the bin in the carpark.  I came across other pieces of litter, too, and I picked them up.  Walked back down the beach people started to look at me as if I was doing something highly weird.  In all honesty I felt like screaming at them to pick the litter up when they see it, if they love this beach so much and want it to continue to be as beautiful as it is.  And one guy, who looked me up and down then smirked, well, I could’ve shoved that rubber glove where the sun didn’t shine…

The sun was shining after the sleety-rain that we’d had before and I couldn’t have wished for a lovelier place to visit.  The photos say it all themselves – especially looking at them in hi-res.  You’ll have to make do with the smaller versions, or you could visit Alnmouth yourself, which I highly recommend.

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Now playing: Del Amitri – The First Rule Of Love

I am an unashamed cake eater.  Should you happen upon my rather portly figure, you would probably come to the same conclusion (though this is at least partly down to genetic disposition to pudge).  I don’t eat cake often (as I am very picky, and though I do have a sweet tooth, it is not that sweet!) however when I do eat cake, I have a little ritual of making it, decorating it and finally sinking into a comfy corner of the sofa with a cup of hot, strong tea and eating a slice.

Probably one of the best cakes I make is a chocolate cake from Helge Rubenstein’s chocolate book.  It is always a success and tastes far better than anything you can buy in the shops.

I do also happen to make a fantastic Victoria sponges, boiled Dundee cakes and more exotic creations like pumpkin cakes.

So with Valentine’s day in mind, I made this cake.  I used my lovely Spritz biscuit maker (which also doubles as an icing gun) to pipe a lovely chocolate buttercream heart.  Mr. VP won’t be having a slice, sadly, but I plan on making one and taking it down with me when I go down to visit him.  Frankly, it was like being hugged from the inside out.  Velvety crumbed cake, rich and not-too-sweet buttercream.  It was heaven.  It still is heaven.  Yum.

Would you like a slice?

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Now playing: Zoe Johnston – False Alarms