First Ice cream by Kate

So here we are in beautiful Cornwall and beaching is an absolute must when it comes to appreciating the Cornish experience in full.

Rosie's enjoyment of Perranuthnoe Beach was a bit mixed today - the tide was right out displaying a magnificent expanse of damp sand washed with gentle breakers and somewhat windswept - which was the bit Rosie didn't like at all. Nor did she like Mummy and Daddy trying to steer her away from the deeper sandpools, not quite understanding that we had her own best interests (and height of diminutive wellies) in mind. And she was very displeased about the saturated sand's annoying habit of sucking at her boots when she was trying to walk.

Luckily, a comparatively sheltered corner with shallow pools and decent digging sand restored her good temper, as did the promise of an ice-cream.

Rosie's maternal grandmother generously supplied this last to the assembled company and Rosie had the initially baffling, but increasingly enjoyable task of working out how to best consume her lolly.
It took Rosie a good ten minutes to confidently apply her tongue to the lolly, but once she got the hang of that, there was no stopping her. Theo meanwhile, who was holding her at the time, was becoming increasingly twitchy about the length of time and the mess the process involved and resolved never to allow Rosie another ice-lolly until she was old enough to make a more efficient job of it.
GM pointed out that mastery of this skill would necessitate plenty of practice. They didn't reach a point of agreement. I suspect Rosie will be amply supplied with holiday ice creams in the future despite Daddy's prohibition.

Driving around for Christmas - by Theo

I had had the silly idea that, since we'd moved back to the UK, spending holidays driving round the South West visiting family were a thing of the past. What a foolish notion.

Deciding that GKK (our clio) wasn't up to it, my parents kindly lent us their BMW (after we'd driven to their house for the Yuletide festivities) for our visit to Cornwall. Rosie had a splendid time on Christmas Day, with many of her favourite people (and cat) being there.

Despite all the driving and the disturbed nights (even when Rosie doesn't wake up, she's such a fidgety sleeper that we invariably do), it was wonderful to see everyone. We'd spent the night with my parents - Cathy, Kate's mum had joined us too - then headed back to Bristol on Boxing Day for a party at Pete and Ems' place. Rosie spent much of it delightedly spinning round in their office chair or falling backwards off their sofa onto a pile of cushions. Then, on the 27th, we dropped Cathy off at the airport and headed down to Penwith to stay with Becky (Kate's sister), her husband Dan and their tribe of four children - or, as Rosie calls them, 'the cousins'!


Rosie was in her element - a house full of books and toys, a big garden to run around in, and four doting older playmates. I even got to relax a bit and read a few books!
Day trips out to Kate's dad and grandparents in Falmouth, and to friends in St. Ives (Jon and Sarah) were also on the itinerary, and on the way back, through fog and rain, a stop with the Presswells in Devon. Again Rosie was having a fab time with her cousins there, but the presence of a puppy (Mylo) made her a bit nervous and was why we weren't staying for too long.

It was, as usual, a lovely trip, especially for Rosie who revelled in seeing everyone. But goodness did it feel good to get home!

The Cornwall Tour, Summer 2011 By Kate

Holidays with babies and small toddlers can often be anything but relaxing. Even the most angelic sleeper/eater/socialiser still has to be monitored to stop them getting themselves into some kind of perilous situation, which tends to rule out sunbathing/chilling out with a book/leisurely afternoon drinking sessions and other methods of de-stressing favoured by adults. So Theo and I, although looking forward to catching up with my family and the beauties of the Cornish coastline, weren't exactly optimistic about the prospect of laid-back break in our routine.

Our "holiday" was actually a social whirl of re-connecting with relatives, so although it meant food and accommodation costs were low-to-non-existent (in the latter case), it did mean a fair amount of leg-work when it came to fitting everyone in. And I've got quite a lot of family to fit in.

We started in North Devon, staying with sister Am and her family (husband and five children) at their cottage which has been extended once to accommodate their burgeoning offspring and is now in the throes of a loft-conversion to continue the space-creating theme.

It soon became plain that five young children also meant ten extra pairs of eyes and hands when it came to keeping track of Rosie. Eight year-old Hester in particular was hugely taken with her younger cousin and was more than content to spend every waking second as self-appointed child-minder and companion. Her willingness to push Rosie around in a toy buggy for hours was hugely appreciated by myself and Theo, if not Rosie herself. Apart from Hester's desire to carry Rosie everywhere - rather against Rosie's own inclination - Rosie rather enjoyed having a personal slave to do her every bidding and lapped up the attention. She even submitted to Hester's - and the rest of the children's - appalled curiosity concerning her nappy changes with admirable forbearance.After a most enjoyable sojourn (including a night where Rosie effortlessly slept through in her travel cot), we timed our trip to south Cornwall to coincide with Rosie's nap and thus had an uneventful journey to Falmouth, Rosie choosing to wake up just as we were approaching the beaches. Not surprisingly, she approved whole-heartedly of our decision to treat ourselves to a couple of cornets with scoops of delicious Roskilly's ice-cream as we strolled onto Gyllingvase. Both Theo's strawberry and my hokey-pokey varieties were met with vocal appreciation ("Mas!! Mas!!" = "More" in Spanish) and loud complaints when they had been eaten.Rosie was deeply unimpressed with the sea, giving it little more than a suspicious, cursory glance before making it clear she wanted to go back up the beach, thank you very much, Daddy. On the other hand she was delighted by the giant sandpit surrounding her and happily put spade-fulls of the stuff in her bucket, before tipping it out again and repeating the process until it was time to go.
Nanny Joyce and my dad were both suitably charmed by Rosie as she darted about Nan's lounge before we collected the keys to Dad's flat - he'd kindly acquiesced to my request to spend a couple of nights there and had decamped to Nan's for the duration. My dad's flat being a matter of a few hundred yards further up the street from Nanny's cottage made the arrangement reasonably straightforward for all concerned.

As it happened, I wasn't the only one of my dad's progeny on the blag for some accommodation - my younger brother was also temporarily ensconced in his old room, which saved us the trouble of making an extra appointment to meet up with him. He had also assisted Dad in giving the flat a bit of a Spring clean in honour of our arrival, which was no bad thing.

Despite Theo's misgivings about the two sets of stairs in my dad's flat and Dad's own concerns about one of the plug-sockets, Rosie negotiated both hazards successfully and enabled us to scale down from Def Con 1 and enjoy the fantastic view from the front window. We had an overnight sleep negotiation with her, but that ended after about an hour with Rosie settling back in her travel cot and all three of us getting back to sleep until morning.

The next day was spent enjoying a Cornish cream tea with Nanny Joyce in the morning and another beach visit in the afternoon plus a reunion with Kim, a lovely friend of mine I hadn't seen in years.After a thankfully quiet night, Theo, Rosie and I quit my dad's pad in favour of a cuppa and catch up with Nanny Dot and Granddad Alf, followed by valiant efforts to keep Rosie awake during the trip down to Chez Rainbow near Penzance. This time we wanted her to eat lunch en route, then obligingly have her lunchtime nap once we had arrived at my sister's place. It was easier said than done. Although it was over an hour before her nap was due, the motion and warmth of the car proved very soporific to Rosie, who started to nod off even as she clutched a sandwich in her hand. Cue much loud singing, opening of windows and general activity to stave it off. Why worry, you might ask? Well, an early, shorter-than-ideal nap would probably lead to an overtired tricky toddler later on with likely ramifications for overnight sleep.

As it was, we probably needn't have bothered. When we arrived at the Rainbow's cottage, Rosie enjoyed herself so much running around in their expanse of garden, she was impossibly overhyped and took much longer than usual to get off to sleep. She was then wide awake after a pathetic forty minutes (having been in the general habit of snoozing for a minimum of an hour and a half or more). The best-laid plans etc....Anyway, once more the presence of other children, their toys and lots of space to run around meant Rosie had more than enough to keep her occupied while I caught up with my sister and Theo did the laundry. I think he did other things too, but that's my main memory.

The last two nights of our holiday were also successful in terms of Rosie's sleep and we managed to include another beach visit (Praa Sands) as well as an hour with Aunty Annette and her husband Alan, a visit from brother Jez and various yummy meals with Becky, my brother-in-law Dan and lots of diversion with the lovely Rainbow children.All too soon, it was time to head back home and we managed to squeeze in a quick stop at a friend's house in Exeter on the way, after which Rosie obligingly snoozed until we pulled up in Clifton Down station car park to do some shopping and make preparation for our return home.

Looking back, we lucked in. Rosie proved herself to be generally tolerant to the various changes in her surroundings and personnel and we actually felt reasonably refreshed when we got back from our travels. Not only that, but the trip away has led to Rosie eating a few foods she previously shunned and the discovery of the word "the" (see previous post). So a plus for child development too. Splendid.

Chilling in Cornwall

First stop off the boat from Santander was St Hilary, the native range of a particular hospitable tribe, the Rainbows, who welcomed us with open house.
Becky, Kate's sister, her husband Dan and their four children (Maisy 10, Elsa 8, Luca 6 and Lily 4) live on a couple of acres down a bumpy track about 10 minutes outside Penzance. It's a beautiful place, with Dr Dan managing to find time to grow a considerable amount of his own veg and raise chickens for eggs. We always enjoy staying there, only the tables have turned a bit - Kate may be the eldest but she's way behind Becky (and her other two sisters) in the motherhood stakes. Plus in the past we've been care, and responsibility, free - whereas now, with babe-in-arms, we're even more constrained than our hosts. Even more so after our Delica went in for its MOT on Friday afternoon and needed a couple of things doing to it which meant we were carless until Tuesday evening.
Still, we enjoyed our enforced weekend chill-out, and chill was certainly the right word as we'd missed the good weather and were welcomed by proper Cornish mizzle! After the car came back we managed trips to Falmouth, St Ives and the wonderfully named Mabe Burnthouse to visit various friends and relatives, with the sun finally making an appearance on Saturday in time for a walk on the beach. A lovely beginning to our long summer holiday!

The Rainbow World Cup - by Theo

The atmosphere was tense and electric, not a seat free in the house, the hosts buzzing with anticipation even though their national team hadn't made it to the final - nah, not talking about in South Africa, the Rainbow Nation, though I'm sure all of the above is true, but the Rainbow household, here in St. Hilary, Cornwall, where we watched the 2010 Football World Cup final.

Spain versus Holland - funnily enough nearly everyone was rooting for the former! Not only do we live in Spain, but Becky (Kate's sister) had drawn Spain in a sweep-stake some friends of hers had organised, and Becky's brother-in-law Sam Rainbow (who was watching with us) also has a house in Spain, where he and his family lived for a while. The fact that Sam's wife, Neema, was the sole Dutch supporter speaks volumes as to why they no longer live there!!

Despite the tension and excitement as Spain attempted to pass their way around some brutal tackles, Becky and Dan's four kids had all joined Rosie in bed by half-time, only to be woken up again by the resounding cheer that rang out when Iniesta finally broke the dead lock deep in extra time. By that stage any vestiges of sympathy I might have had for the Dutch at losing their third World Cup final had long since evaporated!

Viva España!

Two Weddings and a Festival

Forgive us the hiatus. We've just spent the best part of a month back home in the UK and have been too busy catching up with friends and family, partying or plain lethargic to update the travel blog. And to be fair, we haven't been on our travels as such, unless you count Cornwall, Bristol and Gloucestershire.

To summarise: we stayed with the fabulous Joe and S (the things that woman can do with a fresh, plump zucchini...) for a few days in Bristol before joining in the celebrations for our friends, Dan and Helen (aka The Rargs) as they joined the swelling ranks of The Marrieds. It was a lovely do, with a tear-jerkingly ecstatic eulogy to the bride by the extravagantly moustachioed groom and possibly the least inappropriate live wedding music ever. Needless to say, we loved it and joined in the chorus of Men Diamler's "Life Is Such A Terrible Thing" with great gusto.

We were just about to fall into bed after the Rargs' nuptials when Joe and S tumbled home from my ex's wedding, which had taken place nearby, along with my sister and brother-in-law and pals, Emma and Pete and Liz and Al. We watched a glorious sunrise before we finally passed out.

The next few days was spent in Cirencester at Berry mansions as we were royally pampered by Theo's parents while Sheena had her innards removed, cleaned up and replaced at a nearby garage. Late night Champagne and chocolates (plus occasionally truculent games of Scrabble, Bananagrams and Rummikub) kept us entertained, along with trips into Cirencester and visits to Grandma.

Then, along came WOMAD. The weather forecast predicted lots of heavy showers, but thankfully, the Met Office had messed up and we had a hot and sunny festival weekend at Charlton Park, full of great music and colour, with plenty of time to hang out with our respective sisters and friends. Nortech Collective, Shantel and the Bocovino Club Orkester, Babylon Circus and Bassoukou Kouyate were our highlights. We all came away somewhat tanned as well, most gratifying.

We stayed in Bristol for another few days - this time with Liz and Al - before setting off for Cornwall. Our arrival in Friday coincided with my Dad's birthday so we spent the evening with him, my brother and his girlfriend in the Star And Garter (after calling on Matt and Sarah for a cuppa at their place). The next day we had lunch with Wigs at The Chain Locker, then met Neil and Vicki (the latter very damp from a stint of gig racing) for evening drinks in The Oddfellows.

Next, it was down to my sister and the Rainbow Tribe in St Hilary where I spent part of the week helping sort out Bex's bathroom; odd-sock sack; clean washing mountain and old shoe pile, while battling a severe streptococcus sore throat. Ouch.

On the Friday we all trooped over to Black Torrington in Devon, home of the Page/Presswell collective, ready for Ann-Marie and Alex's wedding. The rain was virtually unrelenting all day, but with the help of various tents and the village hall, most of the planned activities went ahead, spirits remained high and everything, including the barn dance and Am's moving rendition of "Amazed", went smoothly, if not a little damply.

Next morning we set off for London, via a farewell lunch with the Berry clan in Bristol, eventually arriving at Ayesha's house in Dulwich. We had enjoyed a bit of friendship-renewal over pink wine, (we met Ayesha at the Rocket Festival in Spain) before settling down for our last night's kip in the UK for - well, we don't really know when we'll be back again.

As I write, we are in the queue for the P&O ferry at Dover, somewhat relieved at having narrowly escaped disaster after realising Theo had accidentally booked us on the Calais-Dover crossing, rather than the other way round.
"Do you want me to transfer the ticket?" asked the man at the P&O desk, "The next sailing from Dover is at 12.40 and it'll cost you...five pounds."

I hope any other problems we encounter on the next leg of the trip will solved as swiftly, cheaply and easily as that one. Shame the cash machine on Dover High Street ate my bank card just before we set off for the ferry. You would not believe the saga we've experienced trying to open an account with The Nationwide. I won't go into the details, it's not very interesting. Suffice to say, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Hey ho, next stop Calais, then on to Bruges.

INTERMISSION

We're on a break.

Yes, we've returned from our European adventures for a short (4 week) English intermission before we plunge back into the continental backwoods.

We came back for two weddings - The Rargs (which was ace!) and Kate's sister Anne-Marie this coming weekend, before getting the Dover to Calais on Auguist 11th. Meanwhile we've been to Bristol to see all our friends (well, not all, sadly), Gloucestershire to see Theo's folks and Cornwall to see Kate's. We took in WOMAD which was hot, fun and entertaining, and Sheena has a new, sparkling radiator and carpet.

Bulletins begin in Belgium. Tune in then.

Love,

Kate and Theo x