Catherine

CatherineN

Catherine N. Moscow, Russia.

Freelance English teacher. Fairy Childhood Editor.

nigmatulina.livejournal.com

Whenever I am asked to tell something about myself, I keep wondering what little piece of this puzzle matters more than others.
Shall I be telling you, for example, about the first cup of tea I drink every morning before anyone in my world has a chance to wake up? Or shall I indulge in the story of the types of chocolate which are right for this 5-o’clock-tea?
Maybe, it would make more sense to tell you about my favourite smells of newly-printed books, of jasmine and that of northern seas?
I may as well embark on my life journey to who I am now boring you to death and telling you hilarious or rueful stories that made me me.
Or would it be better to tell you that I can never quite make up my mind whether I shall have my fringe cut or leave it as it is? Which colour of lipstick to wear? Which dress out of 17 to put on? This is important stuff for a proper girl.
I could equally say that my two kids have changed me more in a stretch of five years than any other person attempting to do that before them; that finding your Mr. Right in life seems to me the most challenging task ever, and that I am so lucky to have found mine.
No, no, I have completely forgotten to mention that I love velvet, big wooden tables, poppies, beautiful tableware and Oscar Wilde.
Or that having strongly decided to stick to a Japanese diet for once after my sumptuous visit to Normandy and Paris, I find myself drinking the diet-prescribed black coffee with not-so-much-prescribed bar of chocolate.
Which little fact matters and which doesn’t? I will never know, I’m afraid. So, here it is as it is, life in all of its vital unimportant stuff of a fairy living in the far-away freezing Moscow with bears, her dreams, a long-eared Spaniel, a dinosaur-crazy boy, a red-haired curly girl, an artist for a husband, and her half-imagined, half-true stories for a life.

All posts by Catherine

About Time

fairy time

Have you ever noticed that time is a living thing? That you can touch it, smell it and wrap yourself in it? I hadn't until I had kids. All of a sudden, time became real. I woke up with time by my side, late at night I heard its heart beating. I indulged in its various smells ranging from chocolate-flavoured ice-creams to mango lip balm, and its yummy tastes I had never tried before. I saw it race, linger and lurk in the most improbable places. I watched it cry, laugh and feed pigeons on gorgeous squares of Venise.  

The Adventure of a Fairy House

fairy norman house 8

People, who believe in magic, know that fairies exist. And if fairies exist, there must be fairy houses tucked away in different corners of the world. No use to search for them. They emerge out of nowhere in the middle of your journey at the very moment when you feel lost or exhausted or desperate for a little magic. We found ours on the Route of Cheese somewhere in Normandy and even if you asked me I would not be able to show you a short way there. First we passed a tiny village of Camembert: three-odd houses bathed in the brightest sun-rays and a closed cheese museum.  

Moscow winter fun

hand-knitted white socks are a must

It seems that winter has finally come to Moscow with its heavy snowclouds and crispy, cold breath. Let it wait, let it linger for a while, while we are roaming our closets and drawers for a precious pair of white hand-knitted socks and nesting our toes comfortably in their warm woolen bellies. Let it hang about while we are getting ready to taste its pleasures. After all, when winter comes to Moscow, it will not last but six long months.  

Paris in a winter dance

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Love for the city, just as love for the man can never be season-bound. The real love, that is, the once-in-a-million-lives love. I have been to Paris in blooming spring, in scorching, mind-altering summer and in burgundy-coloured autumn. Yet it was that chilly, delirious winter that made me swirl in the most dizzying of dances. That winter, with its silver, transparent and yellow, with its colours of winter blues penetrated under my skin and filled me up.  

December the King or 12 Royal Delights

fairy december

There is always the King. Have you ever noticed that there is always the King? He just stands out immediately as soon as you are trying to make any pattern out of it. If you take just one glance at the calendar, you will see what I mean. December has always been wearing its crown proudly and with a bit of fairy-like magic. Its kingdom is as magical as it can get during the year. Lights, café-wandering, present-treasure-searching and Christmas are among its most humble servants. Here are some December delights to indulge in with all royal grandeur.  

Home-made memories

home-made memories. two in the field

A five-year-old girl standing behind the curtain was blushing from being despicably ashamed. You might think that she has broken her mum’s favourite vase or spilled her juice over a new dress, but, actually, she just ate a caterpillar a couple of minutes ago. There is nothing wrong with eating a nice juicy occasional caterpillar, you would argue quite rightly. The girl, however, thought the opposite and mistaking-a-caterpillar-for-a-cucumber seemed so much more of a deadly sin for her than it really was. Then there was the elder sister (cousin, in fact, but some cousins do become real sisters, don’t they) who sewed the most amazing doll dresses and organized single-handedly doll catwalks on the sofa. The small girl will never be able to tell afterwards why she will remember the unfinished wedding dress forever after and buy her own of the same kind 20 odd years later.