If I were to take my personality from those that know me in real life at the moment I would be a rather topsy turvy. In the same week I have been refereed to as both a Kitchen Queen and a non-domestic goddess. During the week a friend gave me an Emma Bridgewater tea towel with Domestic Goddess & Kitchen Queen emblazoned upon it and my Mother sent me a link to this article, The Non-Domestic goddess. With a note saying that She knew the truth!
Now if you read the article I must point out that I am not quite that bad, although my Mother is most certainly well on the way! For instance,
The Club suggests never, ever, going right to the bottom of the laundry basket, as anything could be living down there. In fact, we fully endorse opening the laundry basket, sighing dispiritedly, and closing it again.
Is me, as is this,
The Club has this to say about blackened cookware: soak, soak, soak, then throw away when nobody is looking.
However,
prepares bedding between guests by turning the pillow over to its 'fresh' side.
and
have all of the following items at the back of at least one kitchen cupboard: a tin of golden syrup with the lid halfcocked (treacle is also acceptable); an ancient pot of hundreds and thousands; a spilling bag of decade old lentils; and several bottles of food colouring (all green).
Most certainly are not!
It did make me think though that my blog clearly isn't a true representation of myself. My Mother reads my blog, it is one way she keeps up with the minutiae of my daily(ish) life and gets to see what it looks like. (She doesn't get over to England very often.) If anyone knows what I really am like then it really does have to be her.
Should I assume that she thinks that rather than photos of loveliness I should take pictures of today's roast pan soaking in the sink? That I should own up to the fact that I drink my tea from mugs and my cake by the fistful. Not sipping daintily from porcelain tea cups and nibbling one fairy cake before exclaiming to be full! That for every hand knitted sock and scarf I own there is a matching one with holes at the bottom of the washing basket that I can't bring myself to discard. For every sprouting daffodil there is a dead ivy plant in the bathroom.
Or should I just think that she loves me dearly and wants me to know that no one is perfect and that it is perfectly acceptable to have dusty skirting boards so long as there is always a mug of tea and a warm welcome available?
One final thing. If you are visiting me from Jane I take no responsibility for the disappointment you may feel reading here after being told that I am funny. My Brother has assured me on countless occasions that I most certainly am not!