...what a lucky lot of children they are, to be sure!...

and that's pretty much what I thought as a six year old too. They're the last few words of this lovely book, and that there is my lovely original copy. I decided I had a responsibility to my children to immerse them in the wonder of Enid Blyton after I'd read that some politically correct, clever folk decided to clear up all that strange language. The article outlined a plan somewhere along the lines of changing the wording to be more current and accessible to modern children while, no doubt, renaming Dick and Fanny, Richard and Frances. For memory, there may have even been a suggestion that all the spanking of naughty little girls and boys would be taken out, too. When I read it, I was terribly upset and in a troublesome bother. Goodness gracious, what ever was I to do?? Now seriously, do these people not realise these stories are classic, old fashioned works of children's fiction? Kids aren't stupid, and we shouldn't change things so their poor little brains can manage more easily. I welcome the conversation with my kids that follows a passage with words like queer, quarrelsome and tremendous. If I can be the bringer of new and interesting words to the vocabulary of my children then thank you Enid, you are splendid. My son already exclaims regularly that his father is "phenomenal" and it makes me very proud, (far more proud than when he "can't make the bloody video work!?").
My son is benefiting most from this adventure into the encahnted wood (my daughter's a bit little, yet) but I must admit, I exitedly took his hand and led him there, anxious to revisit a place which holds many of my own fond memories. I am enjoying the return journey, but as with all childhood memories, some of the colour is lost and my old eyes see it all a bit differently. I think the rose coloured glasses are off. Is that what happens when you have kids? You take off your pink tinted spectacles to reveal the harsh light of reality, only to pass them on to your children. I like that idea.
My view of the faraway tree, now is more aligned with the plight of the mother in the story. I empathise with her roping the children in to help with all the house work. I even think it's healthy. I can also see the Magic Faraway Tree as an eleborate construct of the imaginations of Bessie, Jo, Dick and Fanny and dear old Mother indulges their fantasy throughout the story. She's such a good Mum! When they come home from an adventure in the forest with their best threads wrecked, she swallows their story of having had a run in with Dame Washalot and her tub of murky water. I'm pretty sure I'd pull out the grumpy, don't believe a word of it mother for an occasion like that. Yet, as a child, I believed it all. I saw it all from the perspective og the children.
I was analysing my love of the Faraway Tree a little while ago, and much of it comes back to the foodie in me. Even from a young age, food and all the possibilities had me suckered in. I adored the Land of Goodies and longed for a pop biscuit as a child. And who wouldn't have a quiet chuckle at Dick stealing a knocker to have a suck on in the land of Goodies. Double entedre anyone??
I'm always on a quest for new flavours and food experiences. My current journey in to asian food at the hands of Neil Perry has me hankering for a trip to Victoria street in the big smoke for a fossick amongst the wierd and wonderful . At every eating out opportunity I strive to have something amazing and surprising. I'm not the kind to go for the standard parma and chips. Although I have learned if you are in an old school pub, it's best to stay away from the stirfry...they rarely have the skills to pull it off. I take a risk at the hands of the menu every time, usually to be disappointed. It's always such a shame to pay good money for food you could have done in five minutes, for the price of a postage stamp at home. C'mon, shape up food serving establishments! Which brings me to my rave. Having enjoyed a rocking (and somewhat wet, cold and muddy) night watching Powderfinger on Saturday, the husband and I found ourselves kid free, well slept and hungry come Sunday morning. So, we trundled our bundles up the road a few blocks to a place we always think of going to AFTER we've been somewhere else. The place is called Eclectic tastes and it's in Burnbank street, Ballarat and you all SHOULD go there. Even just for a coffee and to soak up the decor. It's very cool. A loopy mish mash of retro homewares like lava lamps and sea shell collages, with vintage Golden Books to house the menus. I had what I think they called "son in law eggs with special sauce". Yum. They were deep fried eggs served on iceberg lettuce with crispy shallots, a sweet and sour-ish indefineable sauce and some chilli sauce on the side. All you other venues dishing up plates of fried, personality free, greasy crap, you have officially been told. If I'm dragging my sorry bum out of the house on a Sunday, pre-midday then breakfast should be a bit special. It should taste good. It should make me feel BETTER if I've got a hangover. Most of all it, should be something I can't make at home. Fried supermarket eggs on foccacia (read, white rolls squashed in a sandwich press) with cricket ball tomatoes and undercooked bacon anyone? No thanks.
I've got lots to do before this weekend on the buntyandsars front. With my first Buninyong Makers Market on Saturday, I want to have everything looking extra lovely. However, I'm in that headspace where there is so much to do I feel paralysed. Come Wednesday I'll be in a frantic flap desperately make, make, making.

 That's not to say I've done nothing at all. On the contrary. I had a full set of covers for my colouring books and paper Peggy's all hand illustrated ready to be copied, but once I run off a few, I realised they were all wrong and not good enough at all. I've since been scratching away at a new set, which should ne ready to go tomorrow sometime. Then I've got to bind a stack of books and replenish my stash of Pull-along cards. Wish me luck and I hope to see you on Saturday, Buninyong Town Hall, 10-2. http://www.buninyongmakersmarket.blogspot.com/