Meet George, he's been part of our family since 1998, the year before we got married. He took us around Europe on our honeymoon, and has been a staple part of camping holidays ever since. He's also been quietly rusting away and falling apart over the years which is a travesty brought on by lack of a secret money stash to throw at him.
Recently Mr Boxer Shorts did something we've never done before. He loaned George to a friend of his to go away on holiday in. It was a friend from a long time ago, reaquainted through the miracle that is facebook.
Try and wrap your head around the enormity of this. Would you lend your children to someone you didn't know?
My oldest daughter is no spawn of my loins when it comes to fun parks. She can't be - there is just no way I can have given birth to a complete wimp who is afraid of the swinging pirate ship.Somehow - that's exactly what's happened. Miss Comic Relief (see right -->) is game for any type of stomach losing, buttock clenching, fear inducing ride, but Miss Trouble Pants would rather eat her own head.So picture the happy family, queueing up for the flume ride at Paulton's park with their 8 year old telling them - through tears - that...
I was riding in to work today on the scooter. It's a fantastic little machine, despite the fact that its seat is now gaffa taped back together, and makes some interesting rattling noises when it chugs along. It also squeaks in a very unmanly way, which is fine for when I'm riding it, being that I'm not manly. Or even a man.Now, I'll extol the virtues of a scooter for city riding for hours if you give me a chance. They are so fuel efficient, easy to manouvre, and simple to wedge between other bikes when you park them.They zip...
I don't remember what it was like to believe in Santa Claus. That's because I never got a chance to.I was four years old when the older child who lived over the road told me in no uncertain terms that there was no such thing as Santa Claus. My mother was furious, but the damage could not be undone. What was heard cannot be unheard.Four is such an innocent age. It's pretty hard to shake the faith of a four year old. You can tell them not to be terrified of an enormous fuzzy moose that is walking towards them...
Picture this... A flickering fire low in the fireplace. The glimmer reflected in the baubles swinging gently on the tree, and perched on the edge of the over stuffed armchair, glass of sherry in hand sits Santa. His ruddy face houses eyes of blue that twinkle in the firelight as he inspects a mince pie - lovingly left out for him by the children of the house. But the picture is kinda scewed. Lets try again. A flickering fire low in the fireplace. The glimmer reflected in the baubles swinging gently on the tree, and perched on the edge...
I'm dreaming of a white christmas,just like the ones I've never known.Where rubbish bins glisten, and children listento pet cats buried in the snow.I grew up with snowy scenes on christmas cards - twinkling vistas of snowy pines and winter wonderlands. Tiny robins peeking from behind snow laden branches, ruddy faces singing carols in a picturesque village. Jolly fires burning in fireplaces loaded with freshly cut felled pine, and the heavy snowfall beyond the window blanketing the garden with pure unsullied white.The children tobogganning down the hill with streaming skarves and lost mittens, the forest bunnies peeking from beneath heavy bows. The...
What I've loved most about driving around Sydney this christmas is the wonderful greenness of it all. There is an obvious difference between the green of Sydney, and the green of London, although it took me a while to put my finger on it. It's a subtle hue. The green shifts into a blueish (eucalyptic) hue and also a dusty khaki hue which is uniquely australian. Despite there not being enough water most of the time, the bushland around here looks vibrant and glossy. And the other thing I love, and have realised is the signature of Australia for me -...
People like to edit their own memories and cut out a lot of the chaff. This is called selected recall. It means that you just don't remember quite how awful an event was, beyond the fact that it was awful. This is why I don't really remember the finer details of childbirth. Although that could also be down to the fact that I was totally stoned at the time. Plane trips and childbirth have a lot in common. There is the mess, the fuss, the long drawn out process, the pain and of course the screaming. What a way to...
So, it is exactly one week until I will be leaving on a jet plane. All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go. Well, almost. And to further destroy the illusion, I DO know when I'll be back again. And I WON'T be lonesome, because I'll have two children with me, to keep me company on the plane, to constantly want to go to the loo, need help working out the seatback games, and want me to get the bag down YET AGAIN to find something new. Won't THAT be fun. Mr Boxer Shorts, on the other hand, will...
We're travelling to sydney this year for christmas, which is brilliant and wonderful and fun, but hideously stressful at the same time. The travelling itself - sitting in weeny seats on a plane by myself with two children - isn't the most stressful part though. What really cranks me up are the bits that come in the run-up to the travel date. The packing, the insurance, the ensuring all documents are up to date, the children's entertainment, and just pretty much living through the chaos. It was very hard to find flights that we could afford at this time of...
This is taken on the cliff walk on the south side of Guernsey. The views were spectacular, but inland and out to sea. I was worried that my hyperactive 5 year old would tumble down the cliff, but luckily the low side of the path was thickly protected by white flowers and stiff bushes....
We've just spent a week camping in Devon, living in George (our VW camper) and an annexe. Peeping out of our tent flap we've laughed and snickered at the folks going back and forth, wondering how embarrassed they must be to simply exist. We travellers consider ourselves above "caravan folk"I have to confess, that actually I have grown up as "caravan folk" but over the years, the exact type has changed.I spent my formative years enjoying holiday weeks in Budgewoi, in a campsite called Sunnylake Caravan Park. (I had two t-shirts of the same name, although I admit I cut holes...
