Day 304. Dalek squash.

Christ's College, Cambridge held its third pumpkin carving competition today. The green was surrounded by an extravagant and eclectic array of pumpkins capturing everything from punk, to snowmen, to Alfred Hitchcock in squash form. This Dalek was carved by the event organiser and in my opinion was the best one there but obviously she can't win.

Tonight the pumpkins will be lit, a treat for the students of the college and something I'd love to see. Do you think the Dalek exterminates the spider then too?

Day 303. Ten winners in blue.

A trip to Newmarket wouldn't be complete without a horse. Sadly there were no jockeys out riding today but this beautiful horse called 'Ten Winners in Blue', one of thirteen painted for the Horses About Newmarket initiative, was proudly on display in the Guineas shopping centre as I headed back to the car park. Not as stunning as the real thing but easier to care for with considerably less mucking out for the owner.

Day 302. The first rule of rail travel is...

I'm so glad I don't have to do this every day.

Firstly, I'm short. When I arrive at the platform I invariably end up penned in staring at the shoulders of the people in front and in need of a box to see if the train is coming.

Secondly, this is twenty-five minutes before the train is due to leave. This train is so rammed that tonight the man in the seat next to me had bicycle handles next to his ears as every inch of space was used to transport us East Anglian folk home from London.

Thirdly, it's getting chilly now and the train is either so cold we need to wear our coats, hats, scarves and gloves for the entire journey or the heaters have been turned up to eleven and we wish we'd brought vest tops, portable fans and deodorant.

Finally, too many people ignore the first rule of rail travel: no pasties, kebabs, cheeseburgers or soup; in fact no food that smells, crunches too loudly or is generally going to cause raised eyebrows and gentle tutting.

I'm so glad I don't have to do this every day.

Day 301. Half term begins but work doesn't end.

Guests have departed and the monopoly and chocolates are out for an afternoon of relaxation. Not for me though I'm back at work. A quick coffee break and a Thorntons' truffle before returning to my desk.

Like the current housing market there may be a number of mortgaged properties in view here but on the whole it's looking pretty buoyant. Although houses are a bit cheaper on the board than in the real world. There's not much you can buy much for £300 on Bond Street.

Day 300. Bonkers about conkers.

After the frenetic pace of four hours in Norwich yesterday today required a slower pace. What? We're bumpkins now. Sometimes city life takes its toll.

A trip to the park with the kids and then a long walk home via the horse chestnut trees where we filled our bags with conkers. Shiny jewels inside a prickly case. I know a few people who bear the same qualities.

Day 299. Wagons roll.

A weekend with the Sugdens and a day in Norwich.

By day I mean half a day by the time we'd corralled three kids and four adults into the car, endured the back seat driving of three of the adults and found a car park because of course it was match day and we hadn't thought to factor that in. By Norwich I mean a restaurant for dinner, BHS for a toilet break and Norwich Castle for some family entertainment.

The Castle, if you haven't been, is a spectacularly good place to visit. We'll definitely be visiting again soon. And for lunch we visited Middletons Steakhouse and Grill - here's my review on Triptease.

The journey home was less eventful and we parked with ease.

Day 298. No more boxes.

We unpacked the last few boxes today, finally clearing the spare room ready for guests. Yes, the wallpaper is retro, ok dated. Yes, the furniture a bit sparse and the curtains a fraction to narrow to cover the window. However the bed is comfortable and the house is warm. And we have wine; lots of it.

One day the house will be beautiful but until then we'll keep the cellar well stocked.

Day 297. The power of words.

I'm a fan of word clouds. Actually let me rephrase that, I'm a fan of word clouds when they're created well to cleverly reflect a personality, a feeling, a brand. Sometimes though the power of words can be lost when there are simply too many to make sense of, or relate to.

I saw this one today and there are so many statements here that are open to question and interpretation.

Nothing is impossible. Walking on the moon without a oxygen, swimming to the bottom of the ocean, giving away your last Rolo. I can think of plenty of things that are impossible but the essence of this, yes I get it.

If you can dream it, you can do it. I hope not. I have a recurring dream where sharks walk on land - the first time I dreamt about this was long before Sharknado - and fighting walking sea creatures, with multiple layers of teeth is not something I want to do.

WOW factor. I'm not even sure what this means. Have the WOW factor? Everyday? That sounds terribly tiring.

But I do like find a way or make one and if I had to choose one of these to hang over my desk in the office it would be this one. Especially if I'm finding a way to a coffee and a couple of biscuits.

Day 296. A house is not a home.

I love Dionne Warwick and A House is not a Home is one of her finest. I couldn't get this out of my head as I made my way to Home House this morning, to take part in the Women in Digital networking breakfast, humming it as I walked up to the front door in a way that was reminiscent of my Dad's whistling when he's in the middle of something. Age related or genetics? I'm going for the latter but the number of parental traits I seem to have adopted as my own recently makes me question the validity of that choice.

Day 295. Never run after a man or a bus; there's always another one coming.

Although in this village you could be left waiting for a bus at least. There are only two a week. You can travel to Kings Lynn on Tuesday or Swaffham on Saturday. Both buses stop outside our house so it shouldn't be too hard to catch one. But unlike men, you might want to run for it as the next one's a long time coming.*

* And no, I don't think you should run after men.

Day 294. Standing room only.

The perfect end to a long day. No trains home to Peterborough from the North East. First I headed to Darlington after hearing there was a train from there. Nope. Try York. So I head to York, standing room only even in First Class. No train there either. There's definitely a train from Leeds. Off to Leeds I go. After some debate and much confusion a train is finally scheduled to leave for London, via Peterborough. It may have been cold, there was no hot food available and the buffet car closed early for a stock take (WTF) but I did make it home before midnight. Just.

Day 293. Bagging up the cuddlies.

There are too many cuddly toys in the house. Despite trying to steer my daughter away from the soft toy compulsion that most kids have, I have been, for the most part, unsuccessful. So tonight three bin bags now reside in the storage space next to our guest bedroom, each containing an assortment of elephants, owls, bears, dogs, cats and ducks. All stuffed of course.

Day 292. Aloo Gosht.

Supper tonight courtesy of a Waitrose recipe card: Aloo Gosht. Here's the recipe.

1 tbsp sunflower oil
1 large onion, chopped
4cm piece fresh root ginger, chopped
400g neck fillet of lamb, cubed
2 tbsp madras curry paste
400g can of tomatoes, chopped
750g red potatoes, peeled and cubed
28g fresh coriander leaves roughly chopped
1 lemon cut into wedges
Naan bread

1. Heat the oil in a large pan and cook the onion and ginger for 5 minutes until softened.

2. Add the lamb and curry paste and cook for a couple of minutes more then stir in the tomatoes, potatoes and 300ml of water. Bring to the boil and simmer for 40 minutes until the lamb is tender (although we cooked for almost an hour longer).

3. Divide between bowls and scatter with the coriander leaves. Serve with a lemon wedge for squeezing over and warmed naan bread.

Enjoy.

Day 291. Precision except in the proof reading.

Like many writers I make mistakes. Often through laziness or as a result of not checking properly when autocorrect kicks in - a favourite being to change 'its' to 'it's' regardless of the subject to which it's attached.

Heston Blumenthal clearly puts his name to many things but I wonder if any of his team proof read the packaging of products he endorses. This thermometer arrived today claiming to '... mainain optimum oven temperature...' I like to think even at my most inert I'd have spotted this one. Then again, mabe not...

Day 290. "Are you telling me that you built a time machine...

... out of a DeLorean?"

"The way I see it, if you're gonna build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style."

Here I am in the Heritage Motor Museum running an event and jeez they've only got a DeLorean complete with flux capacitor and time travel control panel. All I need to do now is generate 1.21 gigawatts of electricity and I'll be on my way back to the future.

I'm thinking I might start back in the '80s. I'm pretty sure that's my density. I mean, my destiny.

Day 289. I stand holding the apple in both hands.

This decal is such a simple concept.

"I stand holding the apple in both hands." is a quote from Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood which continues "It feels precious like a heavy treasure. I lift it up and smell it. It has such an odour of outdoors on it I want to cry."

This is my apple. My heavy treasure. For now Snow White and all her Disney innocence will hold it in her hands. Simply beautiful.

Day 288. Window dressing.

When work begins on our house I might adopt this idea of covering the front with screening painted to make it look like a finished house. This painted green cover over Foster's Mill near Cambridge station was hung after the building was badly damaged following a fire and building work was delayed.

It certainly looks better than the blackened shell that sits behind it but I suspect the developers are working with a larger budget than we are. Scaffolding and white sheeting it is then.

Day 287. Under the flight path.

In house buying circles this is not a desirable feature, that is unless you're a fan of jets and the flight path in question is the one heading into and out of R.A.F. Marham. Some days they seem to fly so low over the house that they can probably read the care instructions in the washing as I hang it out.

*Note to self: garden may be enclosed and not overlooked but topless sunbathing is probably not advisable.

*Note to you: centre of the photo is the rear end of a jet. Well I can't just drive in a take a photo. There are armed guards on the gates.

Day 286. It's not lamb.

I did cook slow roast lamb with boulangere potatoes for lunch using Tom Kerridge's recipe; the man is truly an alchemist. By cooking the lamb on top of the potatoes they soak up the most intense flavour from the meat juices. Sensationally good especially for a husband arriving home after completing a half marathon and Bea who had run in her first cross country race of the season.

It would have been too predictable to share a photo of the lamb so here's some cakes I made instead. After all who doesn't love cake?

Day 285. Proper pub food. At home.

The hardest decision is which recipe to try first. Pork belly, slow roast lamb or gin and tonic granita? Having watched Tom Kerridge on Great British Menu I have high hopes of this cookbook and its beautiful presentation. I'm thinking lamb tomorrow, pork belly the following week and maybe a pudding somewhere in between. That's my calorie counting out of the window.

Day 284. Are you local?

We are now. Taking time to read the village welcome pack. Got to love this. Where to find the nearest doctor, dentist, takeaway and clubs and activities taking place in the village which include yoga, pilates, scrabble, Wednesday walkers and coffee mornings. Thank heavens no reference to pampas grass or keys in bowls. Lovely touch, sponsored by the Beachamwell Memorial Hall Committee and reassuring us that we have made the right choice in moving here.

Day 283. Head in the clouds.

Which is where I can be found most of the time but today was more literal than figurative.

I had to fly up to Aberdeen for a client meeting and decided to give Norwich Airport a go. Only 50 minutes from home and with parking right outside the terminal building (short and long stay) it was more convenient by a country mile, well we are in Norfolk, than Stansted or Luton. Ticket prices were a little steep but balanced by the cheaper parking and apparently fares to Aberdeen are expensive wherever you fly from.

Check in was quick, in fact I think I may have been the only passenger for a while, but then I was flummoxed by the scanner. I couldn't see how to scan my boarding pass to get through to departures. Perhaps the fact that it was only just 7am was the problem but I was pleased to see a member of staff heading over to help. That is until she informed me that I had to buy an ADF ticket for £10 to access departures. This is a new one for me. It felt rather like having to buy a rail platform ticket when I've already purchased the train ticket.

Apparently this £10 is contributing towards the development of Norwich airport. Is Norwich Airport run by a not for profit agency? Having checked out Omniport's website clearly not. It's estimated that 423,000 people flew through Norwich Airport in 2012/13 with all adults paying £10 each for the privilege - quite honestly the departure lounge makes you question where the money is going but still, it is very convenient. Which is a good job given that my return flight was delayed by 3 hours after Aberdeen airport was closed during the day due to a plane leaving the runway. No-one was hurt but the backlog was still being felt eight hours later. We finally left the runway at 9.30pm only to find the weather in Norwich rather troublesome for landing a cessna. Ok it was a bit bigger than that but the cross wind was so strong that our first landing was aborted and it seemed we were destined never to touch down in Norfolk. As the passengers were mainly business or oil workers there was no spontaneous applause when Captain Bruce finally touched down at 11pm. Just relief that the fire engines waiting on the runway hadn't been deployed and that we hadn't been diverted to Stansted. I wasn't asked for an additional £10 which was surprising as ADF clearly stands for Airport Deficient Financially.

6/10, must try harder.

Day 282. Breakfast of kings.

Kings Road that is. Early for a meeting I headed into Megan's Deli and Restaurant for breakfast and could quite happily have stayed through 'til lunch. Plenty of choice and an array of cakes that could easily tempt Mr Kipling to leave Rugby and head south of the border. After almost 6 months on decaf coffee you can imagine the effect this cup of rocket fuel had. And me, so quiet usually.

Day 281. False advertising.

The pre-launch teaser campaign included a poster that said "Soho _ _ _ _ _ _, no hard feelings' and while I am impressed by the developments to date, in and around Kings Cross station, I can't imagine Soho Square is shaking in its knee high boots. So far so good but let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's still some way to go yet.

Day 280. My favourite fruit.

Our new house will be lovely one day. The garden too. At the moment though they're both far from pretty so I have to enjoy other pleasures in our new home like raspberries in October. At least some things are beautiful because the house certainly isn't. Yet.

Day 279. The Chain.

One of the best songs ever written. Not just the instrumental section adopted by F1, the whole song. I sat humming this while making a daisy chain as B played at the park. The lyrics are far from uplifting 'run in the shadows, damn your love, damn you lies' especially on what could be one of our last sunny days but the association was there and I couldn't shift it. The daisy chain was pretty good too.

Day 278. Windfall.

We have so many apples that I'm thinking of making apple juice. During all that spare time I have. Like that's going to happen.

Day 277. New egg supplier.

You can tell it's a slow news day from that title. Let's be honest most of my days revolve around work or family life and fast paced home news is a rarity. So if I have to live life in the slow lane I'm taking you with me.

I used to buy my eggs from a neighbour and then we moved and driving 8 miles to pick up half a dozen eggs wasn't really sensible. So I scouted about the village and found someone else with chickens. And to make it even better look at this sign. "From my Rhode Island Red, Wyandottes and little brown hens." Fascinating blog post I know.

Day 276. Icing (and the cherry) on the cake.

There's a cake sale at school tomorrow, when one class is responsible for bringing in cakes so that all the children can have one during morning break. I arrived home quite late but somehow managed to knock a batch of cherry topped cakes together. They're hardly the height of sophistication but at least Bea and I can hold our heads high when we arrive at school tomorrow.

Day 275. Step outside.

Finally we're able to let the cat outside. First we had to keep her inside because we'd moved house and now live in a village rather than the middle of a field. Then she developed a corneal ulcer which required surgery and we had to keep her in even longer. At last she is able to venture into the garden and hopefully we can wave farewell to the litter tray for good.

Day 274. Stop. Police.

Today I had arranged to meet my brother. My Dad's son who I don't know at all. I was already running late as my meeting had over-run completely and knowing how busy the central line gets during rush hour I decided to walk/run in heels along High Holborn. My attempt to avoid delays on the tube were foiled by the closure of Newgate Street as prisoners were moved from the Old Bailey. Still I was just a little nervous about the reunion facing me so at least it gave me time to compose myself. And my feet were killing me.