Holiday Day Dreams

May is my favourite month. Blossom heavy trees, the return of warm sunshine. Colours are  vivid. Time is more outside than in. After school isn’t about rushing back to the warmth of the house, it is nipping over to the park.

Mostly, I love May for it’s long days. The stretched out days of May. It’s 8pm, the shadows are long and light is still bright. The sky still blue. Long evenings seem full of possibilities and my day dreams turn to summer.

I imagine warm walks in shadowy woodland. Clear crisp rivers, jam jars and fishing nets. Beaches and camp fires.

I am imagining my perfect British summer, a utopia free from rain.

I have optimism that this summer will be different, that ahead of me is the promise of months of good weather. That I can plan and my plans will bear fruit. Because I want to camp. At the library I have been squirreling camping books amongst my fiction.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again (and probably again). North Wales is has a special place in my heart. Somewhere I never tire of returning to. Now we’ve moved and I spy across the channel a Wales I’ve yet to discover and my heart skips a beat.

I must admit, that while Wales in the sunshine is perfection, in Wales it often rains. Maybe camping is for spontaneous weekends when the weather is wonderful. Camping for a week, planning to camp for a week is, in truth, European camping. Because that kind of camping is joined at the hip with sunshine…….. and beyond our means this year.

The enthusiasm for UK camping in this house is firmly pitched 2 vs.1. Mr Noo being voice of dissent.
Last year we found the perfect compromise in a yurt. I would spend a week in a yurt again. Maybe Wales, maybe better weather, so maybe Devon, maybe glamping.

Mr Noo would love a holiday on a barge, the slow pace, pretty canal side views. He loves a lock does Mr Noo. Or he would like a holiday cottage, in a little village not far from the sea. He likes comforts.

The wonderful thing about being down here, rather than up there, is all the possibilities of new places to discover, a short journey away. Places I hadn’t thought about when I wrote my Day Zero . There lies a list of plans and ideas; Norfolk, France, Skomer Island.

This summer my holidays are still daydreams. We are undecided. Not sure where the summer will take us, if anywhere.

What are your plans? Inspire me. Make me envious.

Take a Boy for a Walk

I have produced a child who loves to walk. When my son was a tiny baby he only slept during day-light if he was in a buggy. In those first months we walked the streets, while our baby slept. It was winter and in the late afternoons when the lights were on and the curtains are open we used to peek into people’s front rooms “ooohh nice sofa” “did you see that fireplace?”. Spring arrived blue skies and blossom made sleepless nights seem more bearable. And the buggy trundled on. Through summer days, weaving around the parks and bumped across woodland. A time for conversations with other adults without interruption.

He began to take naps in his cot. The buggy was replaced by a lighter model, easier to chuck in the car for exploration further afield. Our small passenger had become more alert and interested. While fresh air helped us cope with getting up at ridiculous o’clock.

We walked to wear him out. We walked to escape the four walls and a small child bouncing off them. There came a non-discernible point and the buggy was redundant. We have a boy who is happy to walk. He loves to explore the small details that a walk reveals. He enjoys the space that following a path can take him to, high in the hills.

I love a walk, I love that it’s a family love. A simple pleasure that gives so much. Walking has taken me to some beautiful places.

All that pavement pounding now seems worth it. I’m proud of my boy who loves to walk and I have ambitions for him, to share the places I have only discovered through walking.

This post is for The Gallery ‘Walks’ at Tara’s blog. Pop over to Sticky Fingers and take a walk.

House Home

We’ve been here almost 2 months. Noo is happy. We all love our new city. This house is rented. We have one less bedroom and decided that various things would go into storage to save space; all my books. Now, I don’t need my books but I like a bookshelf to look at, to remember. I love the variation of the spines in the corner of the room, and the associations with the different books. I’m not going to read most of them again. Keeping the books is hanging onto memories. That’s not a bad thing. Is it?

I did decide to get rid of my vinyl. The vinyl was stored in a dark cupboard in the corner. If I took a rare moment to flick through, my head filled with sounds not only of music but of parties and friends. Club nights in dark sweaty rooms. Snatched conversations. Dancing for hours. Long, cold walks home. Soundtracks of journeys and places. People now gone from my life. This precious pile was priceless. In all honesty, I wasn’t going to play them again. I hadn’t had a turntable for my entire life in the North. The vinyl was ‘stuff’ that filled a space. Unable to do it myself, I sent Mr Noo off with to the second-hand record shop, convinced he would return with a fortune. He didn’t. He got 15 quid for a few of the albums. The rest he took to a charity shop. De-cluttering is good for soul (I tell myself).

I do miss a bit more of my ‘stuff’ around me. This house is nice, it isn’t forever. It only needs to be functional. It is painted throughout in the same colour and that makes it feel a bit soulless. I love that it has a hallway. Our old house had no hallway (this is common in Northern Victorian terraces). The door opened straight into the living room. I like the tunnel of space a hall creates, a tunnel between the world outside and the comfort of home. A partition of the public with our space. To make our space more of a home we decided to get a ‘unit’. Somewhere for our bits and the Lego. In the Queen’s Christmas speech she is often stood next to a sideboard overloaded with photos, I imagine while her’s didn’t come from Ikea, but we too are going for the royal photo overload. Some might not make the final edit. It’s good to have some memories around. It makes the room more us, more our home.

Is it memories that make a house a home? What things do you hang on to just for the memories?

Home and Family

I climbed out of a cab last night and took a moment to look at my house. I’d left it 12 hours before.
I felt both hugely relieved to be home and guilty. Like an adulterous partner. I’d spent the day looking at other houses, houses to rent. There is a comfort in coming home after a long day. The house is warm, everything is where I expect it to be, it is home.

This is a good home. I’ve spent 10 years here. It was a project and I transformed it. Having a child made the lack of garden impractical. Then I fell out of love with the area. A plan to move germinated. Then I fell out of love with the city I live in. The plan has grown and grown and here we are with only a few short weeks to go before I close this front door for the last time.

I’ve moved before, lots of times. It was just me then. When I moved North I still had a flat in London, it left an option open. I stayed with a friend of a friend for a couple of weeks, had a quick scout round and opted for a room in a house share near some nice shops and bars. It was very straightforward. I moved again and again and again, a succession of rooms in other people’s houses. Until I found and brought this house, my home. I liked the area, my friends lived locally. I had no idea how long I might live here and that didn’t matter.

Moving home with a child feels huge. Scary and huge. Packing up all his things and helping him say goodbye to his home. The only home he has known.

Making a decision about somewhere to live in another city, one which I like a lot, but not one I know very well would be fine. Factor in school places. The local education department say places are very limited. I’m hoping ‘in year movement’ will be our friend. The decision feels more pressured. The decisions we make now I hope will be for the long term.

The rental market moves very fast. It’s about making quick decisions. I want to live in an area that will last us. We will move house again and I hope we will find our ‘forever home’. I don’t want to take my son out of school again. School is such a big part of his life moving him feels like such a wrench.

Yesterday was a day of both excitement and nerves. I had to make decisions on my own, relaying details to Mr Noo via the phone.

By the end of the day I was very tired and desperate for the comfort of home, hoping that I’d found somewhere else we can call home. Home for a while.

When it feels overwhelming. I have to keep returning to our reasons for doing this. Which are many but mostly: Family.

We want to be nearer family. I want Noo to have the opportunity to spent more time with his family. We won’t be in the same city as family but we will be a lot closer and that matters. He has nieces and nephews and they are his future. At the moment we see some parts of our family yearly and all that is going to change. When I worry about home and it all feels very scary then I think: Family. Home is bricks and mortar. Family is much more.

A Little Bit Sad

Doing up his own buttons

I can’t help feeling a little bit sad. I accept that my role as a parent is to prepare my child for life and bit by bit pass on skills which create independence towards adulthood. Although in my head he’s my baby, always my baby. Actually, he is a little boy who in a few short weeks will start school. This week he finished nursery and another chapter closed. He left without a backward glance. I was given a book of his developments and a shoe book he’d painted. It is his ‘transition box’ the box that takes him to his new setting: school. We will fill the box with ‘treasures’ and it will give him something ‘real and relevant’ to talk to his new peers and adults about. An anchor in new seas.

Last press of the buzzer

The end of nursery is a milestone and I celebrate that but it hints and the new beginnings. We have an greatsummer planned and then school. His school uniform is here and it’s very special seeing him try it on. The excitement and the pride. School will be a great new experience and offers so much. I don’t want to change him, or hold him back. The joy of parenting is seeing your child develop and grow and yet I feel a little bit sad. I see my baby but he isn’t a baby. He is my boy. My role is to send him forwards. School is such a milestone and with it comes a lot more letting go. School will peel back the edges of our world as another takes a footing. New influences teachers and peers and our little bubble will shift and mould to the changes. I know in the future I will celebrate many other milestones of independence and this should be my focus, instead I feel a little bit sad and find myself wondering when he will no longer want to hold my hand. This is irrational and yet I can’t help but wallow in it. The time flew by so quickly and I’m left wondering if I savoured enough of it. Maybe it’s the rain. Maybe it’s me.
I just feel a little bit sad. Happy but sad.

celebrating the end of nursery with the chocolate of champions

We’re going to Deer Shed

What are you doing this summer? We don’t have a holiday planned but I think it’s important to have something special to make the summer memorable. A festival fits the bill perfectly. Over the weekend of 20th-22nd July we are off to Deer Shed festival.

Having abandoned my festival self for many years I rediscovered festivals with my son two years ago. It was a revelation; family friendly festivals make amazing weekends. Combining camping; which I love (like most children, Noo does too), with a host of entertainment and activities in a picturesque surroundings it was a winner weekend.

Deer Shed is situated in North Yorkshire it is a good journey for us and emphasis by the organisers that there won’t be huge queues of traffic to get in makes it perfect for a parent travelling with a child. Some friends went last year and returned wholly positive. Deer Shed has an ethos that appeals: Family run with families in mind, not huge and reasonably priced by festival standards.

I delight the relaxed atmosphere of festivals, they are for ambling. Once you are inside the cordon only festival world exists. Away from the concerns of home, work and domestic life the focus is kick back and enjoy.

Although I’ve browsed the list of arts, music and entertainment, I imagine we will easily be distracted from any plans. The joy of festivals is wandering and discovery; a quick peak inside a tent and then staying for the show, stopping at a food stall because it smells so good, stumbling across an area for kids to make art, hearing music and following the sound.

I’ve been browsing the Deer Shed website.

Things that ticked boxes for me;
Campsite storyteller
Late-night cocktail and hot cider bar in the family camping area
Larger than average loos for families with little ones
A field of swing ball!!!

Noo has selected;
Eureka! National Children’s museum monster making project
Monster theme
Exotic animal displays
Face painting
Greentop Circus

There is, of course, a varied music line up. I’m aiming to see headliners Saint Etienne.

We are very excited (under statement). I have a tent and festival essentials waterproofs and sun cream, baby wipes and hand sanitizer.
Now it is just a case of counting the days. I shall be reporting back. What are you doing this summer?

Can I tempt you to join us?

Disclosure: Courtesy of Deer Shed I received a pass for myself. My son is under 5 and entry is free. In return I will be previewing and reviewing Deer Shed. Words and opinions are all my own.
(Adult weekend ticket £69. Under 5′s free. Child £20)

A perfect weekend

My preference for a short break would be some kind of 5 star hotel but obviously that is not compatible either with my financial situation or a small child.

A lazy and relaxing weekend getaway is always welcome but obviously that is not compatible with a noisy 4-year-old who requires entertainment.

What is compatible with a small child is lots of other children, various adults, self-catering facilities to administer to the whims of unpredictable early rising and ad hoc snacking. Practical and child friendly surroundings which a child can explore without their parent becoming hoarse from barking instructions to ensure that something isn’t broken or someone unduly disturbed.

A few months ago a friend suggested a group weekend away in a Youth Hostel, to be honest I liked the idea. I was less keen than had I been offered a luxury spa, but there was an appeal and I marked it on the calendar. When something is proposed in February and it’s cold, sunshine is a forgotten ideal I struggle to envisage a weekend involving the seaside, a hostel and a large group. The large group aspect equates to military tactics and a barrage of emails. Groups are great and I do think there are wonderful benefits to group holidays with kids (see ‘entertainment’ mentioned previously) but I am pleased it wasn’t me responding to every query and calculating how many sausages make a BBQ for 31.

The organisation has been rolling on.  Rising to the boil through May. May, however, has not been playing ball weather wise and the prospect of rain-soaked weekend was distinct. Then last week the sun came out and stayed out and my enthusiasm bloomed. We duly packed and headed to the coast last Friday a disparate group aiming for Boggle Hole Youth Hostel on the North Yorkshire coast. I have very little experience of Youth Hostels but I see this changing. They seem to be perfect for families, reasonably priced (see ‘financial’ mentioned previously) a combination of self-catering (see ‘whims’ mentioned previously) and affordable cooked meals (see ‘lazy’ mentioned previously) very much suits. Boggle Hole is pirate themed. It has a dressing up box, games and various activities available. Had it rained it would not have been a disaster. The rooms are basic with shared facilities. For my 4-year-old bunk beds the equivalent of holiday heaven and showering isn’t a priority.

What makes Boggle Hole stand out is its fabulous location; a walk down a leafy lane, across a wooden bridge and there is it right on the beach. Disney could not have done better. When the tide goes out short stroll along the beach to Robin Hoods bay a very pretty village (and chips for lunch). Climb the hill to the side of the hostel and enjoy fantastic views and from the Cleveland way walking route.

a very nice spot for a youth hostel.

Pirate ahoy.

Robin Hoods Bay. Pretty.

The view from the hill.

Sometimes it all comes together time and place, good friends and good weather; making a perfect weekend.

Definitely inspiring.

Pop over to Penny’s Blog The Alexander Residence for more Youth Hostel experiences.

Easter

At four days Easter is the perfect break, the joy of a long weekend and for us no pressure. Our plan for the weekend; no plan, just to let the weekend unfold.

Friday turned out to be Good, very good. Noo and I went without any expectation to Chatsworth House in Derbyshire, it was crowded and the weather was bleak but no matter, we met with my best friend and her children and had an ‘Easter’ day out. Spring lambs and baby animals at the farm. The children completely caught in their own imagination in the playground while parents caught up on news and gossip. We tried Easter crafts and best of all a great Easter egg hunt, we didn’t find the golden egg but did find a good haul of small chocolate ones.

One the joys of parenthood is rediscovering traditions such as Easter and reshaping it for our little family of three. We’ve developed our own small tradition for Easter Sunday, chocolate for breakfast and our own indoor Easter egg hunt. This Sunday we shared the afternoon with old friends, joining their family walk across the moors. I watched my son run amongst the group and chatter with other adults and I smiled a proud smile at his confidence and engaging ways.

Just us three ventured to the woods in unrelenting Bank Holiday Monday rain our mission to find bugs. Tramping in the wet amongst early bluebells, lifting logs to find creatures kept briefly for inspection in a plastic container, we found centipedes and beatles. Delighted we spotted two woodpeckers just like the ones in the deep dark wood where the Gruffalo lives, we didn’t find a mouse or a Gruffalo but did find a miniature steam railway. Mini trains run by elderly gentlemen enthusiasts, taking coaches of children, parents and grandparents on short rides around a track. Grinning inanely and waving obligatory.
Happy Days.

This post is part of The Gallery, pop over to Tara’s blog Sticky Fingers and find out how everyone else spent Easter.

 

Gather the wonderful

A few week’s ago my mother died, she was in ‘end of life care’.

Part of the process of someone passing away is sharing the news. For most people close it was an inevitable phone call, expected within the course of events that had unfolded in the last fews weeks. Something we were waiting for, like sitting on a cold, dark platform, staring up the track, waiting for a train, just waiting. The dull void of waiting for a train travelling to it’s own timetable. Staring up the tracks, wondering and waiting doesn’t make it come any slower or any quicker but still you look into the darkness for that first glimpse that marks it’s inevitable arrival, a glimmer in the distance. Turn away for a moment an it’s there. Pulled up sharply at the station. You have no choice but to get aboard. Another part of the journey and while the train is a welcome relief from the cold and dark of the wait. The train isn’t the comfort you’d hoped, just another stage towards an unknown destination. Part of life’s path the uncharted nature of the future.

And so early one morning, I found myself sharing the news. Phoning friends and relatives, sending messages, a part of the process, sharing the news. With that sharing old connections are remade, the ties of family reinforced, a sadness shared but a warmth shared too. Friends and family gather, the telephone rings more often, voices distance but familiar. A face not seen in a long time but no matter. People appear on the doorstep. Friends show they care. Conversations are long and thoughtful, useful and comforting.

This week 100 people with gather for her funeral, delayed for various reasons until now. In the last few days I’ve begun to dread this stop on the journey. I don’t want to travel in a funeral car, I don’t like hearses but I don’t have a choice, it’s part of the process. I’ve been waking in the night my heart racing from strange unknown dreams, a feeling of dread. The dread has been lifted by friends, who have wrapped me in their warmth. Simple things; encouraged me to run amongst budding trees under blue skies, made pizza while our children played, sat in the sunshine with takeaway cups of tea and chips. Welcome distractions and positive reminders of good things. This week we will share a rite of passage a part of life with family and friends, some not seen in years, we will gather together. It will be sad but it will also be a reminder of all that is good and that while life is sometimes isn’t as you’d hoped, it hurts, it’s sad, it disappoints, sometimes life makes you screaming angry. But mostly life is wonderful. People are wonderful, friends and family are wonderful.
Gather the wonderful close and treasure it.

Colour

I see this photograph and I see colours green and blue. It was taken in France, a few short months before my son was born. A world ago. We drove through France, I was too pregnant to fly. Mr Noo took his bike and cycled the road in this photograph, its called the Col de Pailheres. I waited at the top and wrote a postcard to my parents. It was a beautiful day. I love the combination of colours the blue and green. My mother had a real eye for colour, she could see a colour capture it in her minds eye and then pick out exactly the right shade or colour to combine it, particularly she loved soft furnishings and very much clothes. Always immaculately dressed, her skirt complimenting her blouse perfectly but that was a time before.

On the way back from this trip we called in to my parents, my relationship with my mother has always been complicated but that weekend it was unusually relaxed, I suspect due our safe return from France combined with two weeks of sunshine, we all looked forward to the birth of my baby. The next time I saw my mother was after the birth of my son. His birth has since become a marker for the changes which indicated my mother had developed Alzheimer’s. I’ve charted her journey through Alzheimer’s on this blog, often through the gallery posts. In the last weeks my mother has been in end of life care and early one morning she died, she was calm and swaddled in care, excellent professional care and the care of my father. I take comfort that she is now at peace, free of Alzheimer’s and free of its burden. I look at the road in the photograph, I suspect it reflects the twist and turns of the road ahead. A new journey begins.

Colour is the theme for this week’s Gallery. Pop over to Tara’s blog Sticky Fingers pop over and give the other entries some love.