Postcard Wedding by Theo

It was, as Dom commented the following day, a postcard wedding. The bride looked lovely, pulling off the traditional white lace look with aplomb, the groom dashing and surprisingly sober, and the weather absolutely superb. Warm and sunny, with the Cotswolds looking and smelling incredibly fresh and lush after April's rain, it was the perfect day for a wedding. And we so nearly didn't make it.

 The wedding was on a Friday and due to my timetable there was never any way we were going to make the afternoon ceremony, but we planned to try and get to the evening do for 7.30pm after leaving Rosie with my parents for the night. However, as we madly packed the car in Bristol we realised that the wedding invitation with the directions for the reception had been accidentally recycled. No need to worry though: I knew it was in Northleach, which is pretty much a one street town. We'd find it.

 Upon getting to Northleach and asking in a couple of pubs and some passers by, it became increasingly obvious that if the wedding was in Northleach then is was a stealth wedding and an extremely well kept secret. I'd been calling and texting old school friends I thought might be at the wedding all afternoon to try to find out exactly where it was, to no avail. All dolled up, no place to go, it looked like Kate and I might have to turn the car around.

 Then Thom suddenly called (and not long after Dom and Beans): the wedding was just up the road in the picturesque and fabulously named Lower Slaughter. Heartened we cruised up the road, followed the signs, crossed the little mill stream, pulled into the 'car park' (the father of the bride's paddock) and were met by Beans, Vicki and Ian bearing an as yet uncorked bottle of bubbly. Perfect!

The reception was incredibly stylish, with a gorgeous teepee that I'm sure was a stage at Glastonbury in 2007 set up in the bride's family's back garden. We made it just in time for the cutting of the cake and the first dance, and well before the buffet and piles of charming cupcakes. As Kate remarked, it was incredibly tasteful, and a lot of fun. Phil - the groom - and I went to school together, and a dozen of so of our former classmates and their partners were there. It was fab to see them all, and it naturally made us all wonder why the hell we don't get together more often. It was an excellent evening, especially as being, being a Friday, we had two days to get ourselves together again afterwards!

Friends and family - by Theo

After lots of dashing around the past few weekends, it was a relief to spend Saturday and Sunday relaxing in the company of friends, family and friends' families.

Rosie obliged us both with a lie-in on both days.... she woke up at 7.25am. Hey, anything after 6.30am counts as a lie-in in this house. The weather didn't look very promising, but it brightened up enough for us to head out en famille to St George's Park for Redfest. A very local event, there were live bands, stalls, the Bristol playbus and graffiti artists among the attractions. It was very pleasant and although Rosie was mostly interested in eating plums and running after her ball, we did spend some time hanging out with Kate's new mum-chum, Claire, her daughter Selma and husband Mark.

Later that evening Kate and I benefited from some outstanding generosity from some former gig-going buddies, Steve and Ruth, who babysat for us so we could enjoy a meal out with my sister, her husband and my parents, who were celebrating their birthdays.

When went to Bordeaux Quay on the Harbourside, touted for its use of organic ingredients. It was a lovely evening and, although Kate and I both found the food a bit too salty (couldn't really taste anything else) the desserts more than made up for it. Nice to have a treat every now and then.

On Sunday Obaro and his lovely daughter Nola joined us in the morning for lunch - both the girls and us. It was a fun, if messy affair. Nola was a bit shy to begin with, but she relaxed soon enough and joined in with Rosie's gabbling.


Ah, the joys of play dates! Makes me wonder what we've been missing all these years. ..

(Non-)Christening(s) - by Theo

Kate and I have on several occasions had idle conversations about which of our friends and relatives we would ask to be godparents to Rosie, weighing up the pros and cons of asking family members vs friends, those resident nearby to those further away, and so on. I guess it's a good thing that we don't so much have a shortlist of potential candidates as a very, very long one. All this, of course, presupposes that we will actually have a christening for Rosie, something which is by no means certain.

Last weekend once again raised the topic in our minds as we attended two very different baby-related events. Firstly, on Saturday, we headed over the Second Severn Crossing to Wales, and the haven from the world that is Rocks Cottage, the home of the Bullock clan. It was to be the introduction of the latest member of that illustrious family, baby Jessica, to the wider world. Karri, Jessica's mum, hadn't wanted to do a Christening, but at the same time had wanted to have some kind of event for her, and so a summer garden party was the solution.

Embarrassingly however Kate and I forgot that Karri had told us this back in July; we simply thought the weekend get to together was because Poppy (Jessica's aunt and my best woman) was coming back from Brussels for the weekend. Of course if we'd managed to rub our sleep-scrambled brain cells together we might have wondered why Poppy was coming back that particular weekend.

As ever, we had a lovely time. Su, Allan, Amy and Karri put on a fabulous spread (Poppy just wafted around really), while eldest Bullock grandchild Harii supervised the various visiting children and Rosie commandeered first the baby walker then the hammock.

The following day - Sunday - saw us up very early thanks to Rosie, although this was just as well as we had a Christening to get to at 9.45am. Lateness definitely wasn't on the cards as Kate was to be named a Godmother to Liz and Al's cheerful little boy Damian Beren. A cranky Rosie was taken for a brisk nap around St Andrews park, then we snuck into the back of St Bart's church for the last 10 minute of a very modern and very child-friendly service, that included bubbles for the kids and a rubber duck in the font.

Kate's new Godchild Damian was angelically behaved, both in the church and back at Liz and Al's for the Christening party. Rosie also enjoyed herself, amazingly not being too overwhelmed by the mass of new people as Kate and I tried to engage in a whirl of catch-up with old friends before we headed down to Cornwall (see next blog).

Rosie chomped her way through a veggie sausage, then was treated to one of S's outstanding cakes before deciding to spill the whole of tub of bubble-blowing fluid down Mummy's legs. Still, we all had a great time, and the weekend has got us thinking again about what, if anything, to do for Rosie in terms of socio-cultural quasi-superstituous naming-ritual(s).

You know you're back in Bristol when... By Kate

....despite living in an unfamiliar part of the city, you spot familiar faces in the local park the first morning after arrival.

We've been here just over a week now and in some respects, it's as if we never left. That's not to say there haven't been changes in Bristol in the two and a half years since we left to live in Madrid - there have been plenty of those. But they're largely superficial - new buildings, gaps where something's been demolished, newly created shops and walkways in the city centre etc. etc.

But old friends and acquaintances are already amassing on our social horizons and new connections are being made via Theo's job and our status as parents.

Take today - we decided, largely spontaneously, that we would make a trip to the St Werburghs City Farm then call in at St Andrews Park, where they were holding a community art day called Park Arts 2011. Our vague attempts to lasso a few people by text at the farm didn't work out, but after some time spent wandering past the stalls, activities and live music in the park.

After a sojourn in the play park so Rosie could go down the slide, we started bumping into people we knew. And more people we knew. And yet more. We could barely start a conversation with one, when another would appear. Theo make it his job to chase after Rosie (who especially enjoyed the Big R Big Band) while I tried to cram in a few years worth of catching up with various pals and make sure we were mutually mobiled for future appointments.

Needless to say, we all feel slightly exhausted after all the afternoon's excitement. Exhausted and happy to be in another place that already feels like home.

Swimming and so longs Part 3 - by Theo

Rosie has a new book, Tommy, El Perro, about a dog who loves water except when it comes to bath time. Rosie is clearly his opposite. After a lovely al fresco lunch at Bianca's we formed a bucket chain to fill her paddling pool with warm water before her son, Ollie, happily climbed in. Rosie could not be tempted (or, indeed, forced) into the water. Kate tried, I tried, Bianca tried; Rosie is definitely not a water baby.

We didn't even bother trying her in the pool - she was more interested in the pool cover than the water - but the rest of us enjoyed a refreshing dip in relay. Bianca's very lucky to have such a facility on hand, and such an acquiescent son in Ollie, as she is 8 months pregnant and suffering a bit in the high temperatures - 38 degrees today. Yet another baby we sadly won't be around to welcome into the world.

Later on Belen and Cesar popped round for a quick drink and a promise to see each other soon. I'm glad because they couldn't make it to our Dia de Deportes and were away in Cordoba this weekend, but it would have felt wrong leaving without seeing them - they were of course the couple that put us up the first 3 times we came to Madrid. Our sojourn here would have been much poorer without them.

Hasta luego todos.

Brain malfunction

I knew I had reached a new point of tiredness when I tried to open the front door with my travel pass. While it's wonderful to have friends to visit, it isn't half knackering, especially when a certain little girl doesn't understand the concept of a post night-out lie-in.


So after three nights of being sociable with our lovely visitors Harry, Ayesha and Onno (who, in all truthfulness, probably didn't need my company in the evenings!) and then being woken at 6.30 each morning by my darling daughter I was all over the shop today. Wrong textbooks in classes, dodgy grammar explanations (ok, so that's par for the course) and pouring tea on my cereal. I guess now I know how Kate has felt for the past 16 months!

la sobremesa - by Theo

One of the few annoying things about our flat is the horrible glass-topped pedestal table in the living/dining room. It's not very attractive, it's very heavy (and thus can't be moved) and only fits 6 around it, and even then it's a squeeze. Hence we could only invite Belen, Cesar, David and Nataly around for lunch, when really we could have done with a couple more mouths for all the food I'd made.

As I was trying out a couple of new things - a carrot tart, chilled beetroot soup, and baked onion bhajis - I overcompensated with the other dishes I was making, worried that I'd either mess up the new stuff or they'd turn out to be not very nice. So we had toasted goat's cheese with cherries accompanied by a sun-dried tomato salad to start. The former went down very well with Rosie. Then the soup, then buttered asparagus and feta and courgette fritters with the main. It all seemed to go down very well, although Rosie was dubious about the soup, but there's plenty left over.
After all that, we decided in preference to sitting around for la sobremesa (the Spanish word meaning "conversation after a meal") we'd take a little walk, which was convenient as Rosie needed her nap by this point. Nataly had been doing a sterling job keeping Rosie (and herself) amused by reading some of Rosie's books, but it was time Rosie had her siesta.

Being good hosts, we of course put our rooms at our guests' disposal, should they want a siesta themselves, but they were happy to come out to the park, except Cesar who stayed to monitor the pudding in the oven and the Grand Prix on live-stream. We had a little turn around Parque El Calero, stopped for a drink on a cafe terraza and let Rosie play on the slide, before heading back for hot brownies and home-made strawberry ice-cream.

And we didn't even touch the chocolate cake David and Nataly had brought for pudding! We'll just have to eat that in the week. What a shame.

Water on the bridge - by Theo

Spain seems to have no end of "Puentes", or 'bridge' weekends, where a holiday during the week means that people invariably take the workday off to extend their weekend. Last weekend was a particularly long one with Constitution Day (Dec 6th) falling on the Monday and the Day of the Immaculate Conception falling on the Thursday (Dec 8th), hence meaning some people effectively got a 5 day weekend! Not me - I had to work the Saturday and Tuesday - but I'm not really complaining. It was, however, an extremely wet weekend, the rain bucketing it down, and hence we spent most of it indoors.

On Sunday we entertained our Senegalese friends, Prince and Ibrahima. Rosie has met the brothers several times before, though of course she has no memory, but after a bit of staring she quickly relaxed and had a great time with them, as you can see!



We first met them in our Spanish class, and although we communicate now in Spanish it's embarrassing how much better they are than us considering we've been learning for the same amount of time. They also speak about 4 other languages, although not English. Ibrahima plays football for 1st division youth team (Las Rosas), so we're hoping to go and watch when he plays Real Madrid - should be something!

The following day, Monday, we headed out to San Sebastian de los Reyes, to Belen and Cesar's, where we were joined by David and Nataly (David, as ever managing to stay out of the photos.)

Belen cooked us a delicious veggie paella and Rosie had a fab time attempting to eat their rug, Cesar's pointy Moroccan slippers and Nataly's hair. She seemed particularly enamored with Nataly, permitting herself to be cuddled, which she almost never does with us.

I elected to do the afternoon buggy nap, but miraculously the rain clouds stayed over the town, while I walked Rosie around the park laid out on the outskirts - very strange and fortuitous!

Tuesday night, after a relatively quiet set of classes - many students were away - it was our staff party - bowling and drinking. To do full justice to both my colleagues and the evening will require another blog, but suffice to say I stumbled home at 4.30am rather worse for wear. Kate, lovely, gorgeous, sensitive woman she is, let me lie in until 11.30am, though I still woke tired, hungover and really, really pleased I'd invited friends for both lunch and tea!! What a good idea of mine! Hence I found myself pretty quickly in kitchen cooking lunch when I really wanted to be lying in bed feeling sorry for myself.

In the end though it was a lovely lunch, with Jon and his new girlfriend Sophie, who seems charming and mercifully happy to speak English - I was in no state to attempt Spanish! They even brought pudding. I did the afternoon nap with Rosie which went some way to helping to clear my head, and then I got back to have tea with our photographer friend Anne (who had been invited to lunch but had declined on dietary grounds) to round off our very sociable, if very damp puente.

old haunts and old friends - by Theo

One of the very first restaurants we went to when we arrived in Madrid was an excellent Indian restaurant on Calle de Echegaray, in central Madrid, when I met for the first time some old friends of Kate's, the Frosts. Now, nearly two years later, with both families being one more in number, we met up again for a delicious, if late, Sunday curry. We even sat at the same table!

Ian Frost, the patriarch of the clan, went to school with Kate's dad - that's how far back the connection goes, and his and Jill's daughter Kirsty lives here in Madrid, along with her husband Juanmi and, now, baby Emily, who is 6 months older than Rosie. Sadly Emily wasn't feeling too well, but we (Kate, Rosie and I) had a lovely time nonetheless, with Rosie delicately munching on a poppadom. Funny to think how much has changed for both families since we last met there, and how much better we all know each other.

The following day, Monday, we were back in the same area, although one street over, at the delicious Artimesa on Calle de Ventura de la Vega. One of the first veggie restaurants we'd found in Madrid, we hadn't been for ages but picked it as the spot to meet up with Clara Molden, an old University friend of mine, and her friend Nat, both former Madrid residents here for a long weekend. Clara was always an amazing photographer, with her pictures regularly featuring in various Magazines I was involved with back in Bristol, but I hadn't seen her for sometime - she now lives in London and works for a picture agency, her photos now gracing the front-covers of British broadsheets. It was lovely to see her again, reminisce and hear about her work; what she's achieved at such a young age, in a very competitive and male world is incredibly impressive. She's been on 4 week long hostile environment training, photographed numerous stars and occasionally taken the odd, mundane shoot as well! How ironic then that none of thought to take any photos!

apologies - by Theo

1. For not having updated the blog for a while. Aside from being full time parents we've been dashing about South West England for the past 3 weeks visiting various friends and relatives. This has been lovely, if slightly exhausting, but it hasn't left much time for blogging.

2. To those we haven't managed to visit, or have spent too little time with. Please come and visit us in Madrid - we have a spare room!

3. For not uploading any photos for a while - we left our card-reader in Madrid so can't get photos off the camera.

Anyway, we're off to London tomorrow, then Kent, then France for a week.

Love, T, K & R x

Poppy

Naturally, Kate and I have been trying our hardest to tempt as many friends and family to come out to Madrid to visit as possible, dangling the carrot of picnics in the Retiro, beers on pavement cafes and guaranteed great weather as an added bribe.
So, naturally, when my bw (best-woman) Poppy finally made it over from Brussels it rained nearly the whole time. Typical. Still, who needs the sun, right? In fact it was just like old times - as if we were still in Bristol!!Pom was en route, in a strange kind of way, to Dublin for a conference and naturally we couldn't possibly send her off to Ireland without a hang-over. Cue two nights out on the town, sampling the vast array of night-life Madrid has on offer, from the sublime (Mercardo de San Miguel) to the ridiculous (LaTina Turner in La Latina) to the just plain crap (most of Calle Huertas). Tapas clubbing.
There was some non-beverage based cultural action - a trip to see Guernica, some sight-seeing, but mostly out non-drinking time was spent doing some serious catching up (we hadn't seen Poppy since we moved to Madrid), sharing some quality gossip, and gurgling at Rosie, who was a star as ever.

Next time Pom there will be sun, we promise!

Mus, Yoga and Pretty Persuasion by Theo

Spanish lunches are quite a thing. Last weekend we were invited to lunch at Belen and Cesar's and made the mistake of having plans for that evening. Bad idea. This weekend we were more sensible, as when we were again invited to lunch at Belen and Cesar's (clearly Belen wanted a rematch at Parcheesi/Ludo), we cleared the schedule!!

We arrived at 2pm as instructed to find that Nataly and David had not only beaten us to it, but were also providing food - a delicious goat's cheese salad followed by cannelloni. Kind of unfair we thought, seeing as we had been ordered in the strictest terms NOT to bring any food. A slight double standard on the part of our hosts, but we graciously let this slide especially as our tongues started to melt with delight at the taste of Nataly's culinary arts. Mmmmmmm! A delicious meal and great company, Cesar bravely trying to insist everyone speak in English (apparently the others need practice, not that we noticed), though lots of Spanish was spoken too.

We hadn't however turned up completely empty handed. We had discovered the previous week that our hosts lacked a set of Spanish playing cards, which we remedied on this visit. Spanish cards have coins, clubs, swords and cups as suits and further differ from English cards by lacking the queen, the nine and the eight. However these cards are completely necessary for playing Mus, a popular card game in Spain, often practised by large groups of old men in bars and squares around town. We first came across it a year ago in Vaughan Town and totally failed to understand it - our complete lack of Spanish back then being a major barrier.

On this occasion Belen, the only one who knew how to play, was much more successful at teaching us despite constant interruptions, questions, protestations and disagreements among her students. It's a combination of poker and bridge, in that you play with a partner and you bet on the strength of your hand, though there are no trumps and the value of the cards changes depending on the stage of the game. Very complicated. Needless to say, the Belen/Katetheo team won.


The Mus lesson concluded, Kate proceeded to instruct Nataly on the finer points of the yoga sun salute (it was dark by now) and the afternoon was rounded off by a foray for films and popcorn followed by a showing of Pretty Persuasion on the large screen - who needs cinemas! It was a very good, blackly funny look at the bleakness of American private schools, teen jealousy and litigation. If you enjoyed Cruel Intentions, Heathers or Election then it's definitely worth renting. By the time we got home it was 11.30pm. Some lunch!

Sam and Stu´s wedding

The modern world is quite amazing. Friday evening we set off on this crazy metal tube 20 metres underground, that hurtled across Madrid and deposited us at Barajas airport. Then, with Kate clutching her little bottle of Valium, we climbed into another metal tube thing which whisked us up into the sky at 500 miles per hour back to Bristol for the weekend and the wedding of our good friends Samantha and Stuart. It's amazing what you can do these days!!

As the soon to be wed couple had met and befriended my sister Hermione and her betrothed Richard at Kate and I's stag and hen dos, we were going to have company at the wedding and the comforts of their hospitality over the weekend. Richard was meant to be chauffeuring the bride to the ceremony and the freshly married couple afterwards in his newly valetted BMW (Valerie). However, Stu had managed to flood the engine the night before and the AA went to the wrong address, so Sam was slightly surprised to have a hired Merecedes and driver turn up instead.

Still all was more than well. It was a lovely wedding, full of tears and laughter. A civil ceremony at the Bristol registry office, which brought back floods of memories for Kate and I, and then a short bus ride to the beautiful Circomedia building in St Paul´s square. (We felt slightly sheepish at this – Kate and I had just left people to make their own way to the reception!) My sister Hermione´s fingerprints where everywhere, from the bridal jewellery to the floral arrangements, and she and Richard got a special, tearful thankyou from the bride and groom. We ate, danced, chatted, blew bubbles, drank absolutely nothing (Kate´s pregnant and I was on antibiotics) and, best of all, played air guitar! A lovely weekend!

flat fiesta

This weekend was decidedly more active than the last one; after a week of working hard with Kate at training for her new job from 9 til 7 and me supervising classes of manic children, we decided to play a bit harder too. (Though not as hard as our flatmates it has to be said!)


We started off with a flat-warming party on Saturday night, inviting along friends of ours from both Pueblo Ingles and Vaughan Town, plus our flatmates. Apparently it's not really the custom to invite friends round for food - the Spanish tend to just meet in a bar - while starting things at 8pm is definitely not the usual way of things in Madrid, but the food at least was reasonably Spanish. Indeed my first efforts at Spanish-style tortilla and aubergine fritters were gobbled up with pleasing enthusiasm! We'd set up an ice-breaking exercise ("find someone who?" bingo) for a bit of fun and nostalgia (it's something we had played at Pueblo Ingles) and to get people talking, not that we needed to encourage them - they're a sociable bunch! Pete our flatmate got on the DJ decks and spun a little set, which started to make us think it might be nice to go somewhere for a dance. Cesar obligingly phoned a friend and had 10 of us put on the guest list for a trendy club, which we headed out to at 1am - still early by Madrid standards. In fact when Kate and I left at 3am we had to queue to get our coats from the cloakroom - because there were loads of people waiting to hand theirs in!! It was a great night and lovely to see our friends again.

Sunday lunch and curries are two great English traditions, though it's rare that we combine them. Today however, after a lazy morning, we ventured out to the Guru restaurant in central Madrid to meet an old childhood friend of Kate's, Kirsty Frost, her husband Juanmi, parents and aunt and uncle (all friends of Kate's parents). Kirsty has been living in Spain for 10 years now and she and Kate really enjoyed seeing each other again - our social circle here is rapidly expanding. Despite our protestations, we were treated to lunch. Again. If we have to buy back all the meals we've been treated to we're going to be bankrupted rather swiftly. Just as well Kate starts work tomorrow!

A weekend whirl

The weekend has passed in a blur of not doing much at all, really. Friday evening was spent in sociable fashion, first in a bar in Pueblo Neuvo with various colleagues of Theo, then in a barrio kebab house with the lovely Jero and Jose. Except this kebab house was a lot more civilised than those we knew - and tended to avoid - in Bristol. There were tables where you could sit down and eat your kebab (or falafels, in our case) and you could buy yourself a beer. I drank some sort of yoghurt, lemon and salt drink on Jero's suggestion and actually, it wasn't too bad.
On Saturday, we spent a few hours wandering around central Madrid and admiring the Royal Palace and Plaza Espana in the snow - before the cold sent us scuttling into a cafe in an effort to avoid our ears falling off.
We then had a typically Anglo-Saxon afternoon, joining our flatmate Pete and his cheery scouser friend, Paul in a bar to watch Northampton overcome Pete's team, Leicester in the rugby. Pete and Paul stuck to coffee and sparkling water, having both gone continental, if you ask me. Theo was the only one who indulged in a beer and that was only a cana. This sort of thing could do serious damage to the British drinking reputation abroad.
Despite having the whole of party-mad Madrid on our doorstep, we elected to go back to la casa after the match, get out of the cold and settle down to home-cooked dinner and a DVD. It actually felt rather luxurious.
Today, Sunday was another largely lazy day - apart from a stroll around the local park (which included the opportunity for a snowball fight - won by Theo, more for persistence than accuracy) we mainly relaxed in the flat, chatting with Pete and Alex in passing, writing our Christmas thank you letters, doing some lesson-planning (Theo) and playing a bit of guitar (me).
Tomorrow we're both off to work, in my case doing some training with a company who will then find me some paid employment, all being well. Yikes, an actual Monday.

New people in our lives

These last few weeks have opened up a world of new friends for Theo and me - it's almost overwhelming. Our week with Pueblo Ingles at La Alberca has left us feeling slightly bereft because we became so close to so many people then had to be parted from them almost straight away. Slightly bereft, yes, but also richer in new relationships, many of which I feel sure will last indefinitely.

The experience at La Alberca was special partly because we felt we were doing something helpful, but mainly because the intense programme of conversation - much of it highly intimate in nature - led to a deep appreciation of and affection for the other people involved.

Our weekend in Madrid only added to these feelings as Belen and her boyfriend Cesar made us feel so very welcome in their flat and our other Spanish and Anglo friends organised a joyful reunion in the centre of the city. Extra thanks to Andres, Max and Cesar for their kind chauffeuring too!

It was hard not to feel a little flat as we tackled the seven-hour drive to Barcelona on Sunday then arrived in the middle of downpour. But our new landlady soon helped to lift our dampened spirits. Ilse is a German translator who lives and works in Barcelona and lets out one of her rooms to visiting trainee teachers. As soon as we had arrived and got our stuff inside, we were offered home-made pumpkin soup and told to help ourselves to anything in the kitchen. Not only is Ilse friendly and generous, she is also providing us with a well-furnished double bedroom plus en-suite bathroom. Yay!

For the last three days the weather has been warm and sunny, our tutors, fellow trainees and our students are all likable people and the teacher training course we are doing is challenging but enjoyable.

If we didn't have so much homework, we might even find the time to feel exceedingly smug.

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.

famously friendly

Switzerland is famous for many things. We tried to list them to keep us amused as we sat in what was rather amazingly our first serious traffic jam on our now 3 month long trip as we queued to go through the San Gotthard Tunnel: cheese, yodelling, William Tell, chocolate, raclette, clocks, army knives, neutrality, banks, mountains, winter sports, the Matterhorn, fondue, lakes, Heidi and so on.

What really should be added to this list is friendliness. We were quite unprepared for just how friendly and welcoming the Swiss people are. From the couple who offered us the use of their stove on the Luzern campsite to the couple of Swiss lads who challenged us to game of tablefußball on the streets of Zurich. One lovely lady, Lucia, not only helped us solve the puzzle of the Swiss bus ticket system, but explained about the little lake boats we were entitled to use with our travel cards, how we could watch a free live broadcast of Carmen from the Opera House and where we could hear some Persian pop music. And this was all before we got to Bettina's flat!

I first met Bettina in a campsite in Liechtenstein 8 years ago when I was inter-railing around Europe. We got drunk on Schnapps and she had to help me get back to my tent! Now Kate and I have called in on her and her German boyfriend Peter in their gorgeous apartment (flat wouldn't do it justice) in the pretty Swiss spa town of Baden. Their hospitality has been overwhelming: raclette and wine, a comfortable double bed, laundry services and the best guided tour of a town we've had since Seville. It was the least we could do to buy them lunch. After which, we dropped in on Bettina's lovely mum for coffee and kuchen and she completed our good impressions of Swiss hospitality by presenting us with Swiss souvenir candles and serviettes to take with us in the van. Truly delightful people.

France: La Retour

We made it back to Mum and Jean's place near Montcuq just in time for aperos and to hear the news that Mum had that very day been given an unexpected job as the main English teacher in the local secondary school and was due to start the following morning. We were also greeted by their new dog, an exuberant young Breton spaniel called Cocky, whose enthusiasm at our arrival meant we were both quickly covered in muddy paw-prints, thanks also to the recent rain.

In fact, the weather was all too reminiscent of an average week in early June in the UK, ie cloudy, grey and threatening rain. We had one decent day of sunshine while we were at Mum's, made more exciting by a swarm of bees homing in on one of the trees by their house during the afternoon. Jean, already a keen beekeeper, had the swarm settled into one of his hives by the following evening.

Other than that, the three full days we spent at Mum's were mainly punctuated by eating, playing games of Belote and occasional excursions into Montcuq or Cahors (including a typically fruitless expedition to get Theo some footwear to replace his crumbling boots, but pleasingly we did find a cobbler, who mended his ailing sandals). We also got to hear many tales about inattentive and undisciplined French teenagers and their reluctance to learn and unlock the wonders of the English language. I'm sure the class I was in at fourteen wasn't that badly behaved for Miss Nettle. Thanks to her, most of us got decent exam results and picked up the ability to parle Francais with a Cornish accent.

On Friday we set off on a picturesque journey to the Languedoc-Roussilion area, where we were due to meet up with Joe and S, who were spending a few days there with friends. On the way we picked up a charming hitchhiker, a district nurse who was hoping to get to Montpellier for her weekend off. She had spent a year in London as an au pair and consequently had pretty decent English and with our passable French, between us we definitely bucked up the entente cordiale during the journey. She didn't mention whether my spoken French had a Cornish accent or not.

We had arranged to meet Joe and S at a village called Octon on the shores of Lac Saligou - Joe had said they were going to a fete there because S's sister-in-law's father (yes, a bit convoluted, I know) was supplying the beer. We arrived expecting to find the typical French three-course meal on long tables accompanied by a bit of accordion music and found instead something approaching a hippy-style knees-up, complete with a campsite full of converted trucks, barking dogs, campfires, techno and sawdust toilets. I hastily changed out of my summer dress and into jeans and sequins. Theo persuaded me not to wear my hat.

It was wonderful to catch up with Joe and S, to see her brother, Mark and sister-in-law, Jessica again (we'd met them at Joe and S's wedding last year) and to get acquainted with Jessica's dad, Eric and her grandmother, Carol. Eric had lived in France for many years and was currently setting up a brewery in Marseillan. Carol had been coming to France for four months of the year for well over a decade as she gradually did up the house she owns in Roujan. Jess and Mark, like S, are San Fransiscans.

The day after the festival we met Joe, S, Mark and Jessica at a big flea market in Marsaillan-Plage then, after a happy hour browsing the stalls (where we bought some second hand car speakers to replace the one we blew by being over-generous with the volume one day at Patty's Paradise), ate a slap up lunch at one of the town's many seafood restaurants. Luckily, they also did goat's cheese and mozarella salads, so Theo and I weren't left totally bereft by the menu.

S and Jessica were keen to do more brocante-scouring in Pezenas, so we bundled Joe and Mark in our van and took them back to Roujan. Carol let us use the shower in her house, which is absolutely beautiful, full of faux stone, trompe-loeil, genteely distressed paint finishes and tasteful furnishings.

S cooked and we were invited to stay for dinner, which was a big treat as S really knows her way round a kitchen, even when it doesn't belong to her. Theo acted as one of her sous-chefs, while Joe, Mark and I went on a mission to find some wild thyme for S's omelette recipe. It was a close-run thing, but after some false alarms involving fennel and wild-growing mint, Mark, the human thyme-hound found a goodly clump and we were able to return to the house with our foraging dignity intact.

The meal was by candlelight, owing to the power shorting out earlier in the day and nobody being able to persuade the fusebox in the next door house to untrip. It was all wonderfully atmospheric though and we even had music, thanks to S's battery-powered i-pod speaker set up. It was almost a disappointment when Carol suddenly remembered the fusebox was actually under her own stairs and one flick of the switch there had the lights all back on again.

We left close on midnight and decided not to take up an earlier invitation from some random Roujan jeunes to go to a free party 5km away, but instead park-up in a tennis club carpark in nearby Caux and get some kip. That we did more-or-less, despite some 0330 visitations from some unknown cars and an 0830 wake-up call from a family using the neighbouring playpark for some early Sunday frolics. We decided to check into an official site tonight, where you don't have to worry about random nocturnal visitations. And it is rather pleasant to have decent loos and washing facilities.

Tomorrow, we're off to Cannes. Nothing to do with the movies, it's where the epic saga of our smashed rear windscreen may finally reach a conclusion. Here's hoping.

Rocket Festival, Sunday

This time it was gone two pm by the time we made it out of the van. Heading to the healing fields for our favourite juice bar we caught up with Fran, Pete and Ayesha and then got chatting to Jacob, the very friendly head honcho of the healing space who soon had us all taking part in a Chi Gong workshop. Just what we needed to get the energy levels flowing.
General ambling for a while saw us take in some improv music in the healing field (Barry The Box again, this time with a sitar-player and violinist), checked out the stilt walkers (including Kate's former neighbour Lucy and Theo's former mentee Lewin) and an excellent bout of tag mud-wrestling.

We watched Miss Cecily, another Bristol band play at the Solar Stage, then wandered back to the van for some R'n'R, which involved a hefty dram of the port we'd acquired while visiting the Ferreira HQ in Portugal. Well, we might be in southern Spain, but it gets damn nippy at night in those mountains. This was purely medicinal.

Back on site again and as we settled into watch the much-touted Los Deliquentes (who were very good, it must be said), the all-too-familiar sound of rain pattering on canvas was heard overhead. We could scarcely believe it, this is what we came to escape!

In the end, the chill in the air and general dampness saw us heading to the dance arena, where we eventually pitched up in a tent full of green laser-light and techno. There we both became ever more ebullient, befriending a couple of Spanish guys, Diago and Manuel (and managed to fix up Manuel with Ayesha - score!) and a French girl called Bem. We also spent much time hugging numerous other festival chums who came to join in, including Fran and Pete, Extremely Tall Sham and Matt the fence-jumper-turned-wristbanded-performer.

Eventually, the effects of the beer, the shots of neat rum and gawd-knows-what-else took their toll on our sense of balance and co-ordination, so I figured (Theo was too far gone to make the decision at that point) it was time to have a cup of tea and get vertical. It was almost six by the time we got back and settled down. It had also been the best night of all at The Rocket.