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April and May: Deadheading

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  On April 13 th Harriet and I celebrated our third-year wedding anniversary. Traditionally, it’s the year of paper; contemporarily, it’s the year of glass. I bought her Lucy Beaumont’s book, Drinking Custard: The Diary of a Confused Mum to fulfil the paper end of the bargain, and a vase from Nkuku, whose asymmetrical design was something of a gamble. What looks modern online, looks unusual indoors – like if you had a Mulberry model in your living room, the whole time you would be thinking, ‘Shouldn’t you be in GQ magazine? Why are you on my sofa?’ Harriet seems to like it though; well, she puts flowers in it and hasn’t ‘accidentally’ smashed it, so that will do. What she gets me in return is definitely something I’m pleased with. My paper gift is Let’s Get Gardening , 30 Easy Garden Projects for Children. Although the book is aimed at five year-olds, my skills-set means I’m within the target audience. I start straightaway and make a self-watering seedlings pot with Kit. This ...
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April and May: The Garden of Eden

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  ‘A garden is not a place. It is a journey.’ (Monty Don) I get what Monty Don is saying here. Like a house, a garden is never complete. It involves constant attention, rotation and perspiration. You get out what you put in. I don’t put much into our garden. I’m not an outdoorsy person for a start. Even in high summer, I don’t like to be outside. I’d rather be in, somewhere cool, watching the television or reading a book. It just doesn’t feel much fun having the sun on my back and hayfever in my eyes. However, this attitude does make me feel guilty. The reason for this is because I’m from a line of gardeners. My nan was a member of the horticultural society and would go on daytrips to gardens. My dad had green fingers too, building decking at the front and a pagoda down the back. And if I became famous enough to be a subject on Who Do You Think You Are? I’m sure it would be unearthed that my original ancestor was God, the creator of the Garden of Eden. I’m not saying I am the...
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February and March: Are you reading Neil Buchanan?

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 "Make sure you cut the body along the fold, Ryan." ________________________________________________ To start our arts and crafts challenge, we begin with butterfly paintings. These are simple and effective. As easy as a Lionel Richie Sunday morning. As easy as idiomatic pie. As easy as a £100 question on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Easy. Easy. Easy. You just get some A4 card, squeeze on the paint, fold in half, leave to dry; then returning draw out a simple wing, cut along the fold, where the magic of symmetry will reveal itself. I cut the wrong way and divest the butterfly of its body.  Harriet did warn me against this, but I wasn't listening. Unfortunately the veterninary clinic down the road doesn't extend to insects, so a rudimentary stich-up operation ensues with a lollipop stick being applied centrally to provide ballast. Glued to within an inch of its life, the butterfly is complete. It doesn't look bad. At the very least, it's in Watford colours so...
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February and March: Sunday in the sitting room with art

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It’s Sunday afternoon, school looms large. The fun of Friday Championship Manager and chips is over. Pizza Saturday and late-night Match of the Day is gone. Sunday league in the park is over. Sunday afternoon is here. Sunday afternoon means homework. Homework means procrastination. Procrastination means I’ll be at this desk until bed. I may as well be at school. The biggest bane of my existence is art homework. Try as I might I can't seem to do it. In English the pen sits fluently in my hand. I dance across the page with it. We’re in symbiosis with one another, quick-stepping to the maximum word-count in no time at all. However, a pencil is different. It doesn’t seem to fit when we’re in hold. We appear to be working against one another, leading the other astray. The end result is a mess that’s sure to achieve derision from my teacher. And it doesn’t matter what the discipline is, each piece is dreadful in its own way. My still life is not a mirror image, rather a cloning exper...
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December and January: If you build it ...

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  “If you build it, he will come.” This line is a lift from Kevin Costner’s A Field of Dreams, where on seeing the ghost of a baseball legend he sets to work on turning his cornfield into a baseball field. People believe the farmer has gone cuckoo. Maybe the pesticides have gone to his head. Why would one risk financial ruin on an airy whim? Yet his wife has faith in him. Like Hollywood movies, the dream-seekers are vindicated. It does not end with Costner’s character stationed in a sanitarium, sectioned for hallucinations; rather it concludes with a flock of people coming to indeed watch a baseball game. When I said to my family I would build Kit a kitchen, they thought I too had gone mad. After all, they’re aware of my DIY past. A rap sheet of botched jobs and failed projects. A curriculum vitae that would be scrutinized and mauled by Lord Sugar’s henchmen.. My wife who is encumbered with me for life knew that I wanted to do this thing for my son, so instead of calling for a ...
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December: DIY SOS

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  Hi, Nice to meet you. I’m Ryan. I’ll be taking you on the tour today. Come in. Look behind and you’ll see our front door. I was tasked with touching up the white paint on it, but I put so much paint on that its makeup is running. Come through into the kitchen. Yes, that panel there hasn’t been re-attached. Why’s that? I don’t know how to.   Would you follow me upstairs? Sorry, I’ll help you past the stairgate. Yes, it is misaligned. I did that with my wife whilst our little one was sleeping. She said, “I’m going to tighten this now, so you need to make sure we’re straight before I turn this.” I wanted to go and watch the tele, so I nodded my head. Yes, I appreciate it’s the first thing you see in the house. Don’t see it as unsightly, see it as a quirk. We’re now on the second floor. This is the study. Those medals that hang from the screws do seem out of place don’t they? That’s because I drilled some holes in the wall to show I could; I then decided to put up a floating s...
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November: Theivamanoharan Handshake

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  Week 1 My thinking with baking is to increase the challenge as the week goes on. First then I start with cookies. The recipe has been given to me by my mother-in-law. It’s a Nigella episode. Before I talk about the cookies, let’s reflect on the name Nigella. Her father was Conservative Chancellor of the Exchequer, Nigel Lawson. That’s right Nigel just added ‘la’ to his name to get his daughter’s name. So intent was he on passing it on, he wasn’t going to let the small matter of having a girl get in the way. Teachers can look forward to ‘Ryanla’ gracing the school registers in the future with my daughter explaining, “My name? Legacy to blame.” Away from the name, I was worried about doing a Nigella recipe because it’s a well-known fact that whatever ingredients you put down you need to add a healthy amount of innuendo. Nigella is the Queen of innuendo. What happens if I didn’t have the requisite amount of double entendre: Will it affect my bake? Would my cookies crumble? Would...
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