Ever since we arrived back in Madrid on Thursday we've been trying to keep our cool.
Well, it's 35 degrees out there, from about 11 until 11, not a cloud in the sky and we've only got a tiny air conditioning unit in the sitting room. We've also got ceiling fans in the sitting room and bedroom, and small portable fan, but they don't bring the temperature down (in fact the small fan gives off heat!) So we've had to come up with other methods to make the interior of the flat liveable.
The most obvious is judicious use of windows, shutters, blinds and awnings. At least one advantage of Rosie waking us up at 7pm is that we can at least enjoy a few hours with the windows wide open to catch the cool early morning breezes. This is when I've been doing all the cooking for the day, before the kitchen becomes a sauna. Then the shutters and awning come down to stop the sun hitting the glass, then finally the windows close at 10.30ish as the air outside increases in temperature. Time to bring out the home made air conditioning.
We've been freezing large tupperware containers of water and placing them, open, in front of the small fan so the air chills as it blows over the melting ice. Then, following a tip from my parents' Sudan days, we stand frozen bottles of water in buckets of cold water and cover the bottles with socks. Not sure of the physics here (an inverse convection current?) but it does seem to work. Finally, generous servings of iced smoothies throughout the day have been keeping us sane. Anyone else got any tips?
Sunday, 29 August 2010
Saturday, 28 August 2010
lessons in communication - by Theo
Me: "Where's Rosie's mug?"
Kate: "Huh?"
Me: "her mug."
K: "what?"
Me: "her mug. that she drinks from?"
K: "what mug?"
M: "what do you mean 'what mug?'! Her mug!"
K: "what mug?"
M: "Her mug! that we bought for her!"
K: "You mean her sippy cup? it's under the pram."
Kate: "Huh?"
Me: "her mug."
K: "what?"
Me: "her mug. that she drinks from?"
K: "what mug?"
M: "what do you mean 'what mug?'! Her mug!"
K: "what mug?"
M: "Her mug! that we bought for her!"
K: "You mean her sippy cup? it's under the pram."
Friday, 27 August 2010
San Sebastian - by Theo
We'd driven past it several times, it had been enthusiastically recommended to us in English, French and Spanish, it's halfway between Madrid and Kate's Mum's, so it seemed a very sensible idea to stop off in the Basque port and seaside resort of San Sebastian on our way home.
We'd been hoping that the sea-breezes coming off the Atlantic might have helped keep the temperatures down, but it was a sweltering 34 degrees as we pulled into town just after 2pm. We were staying in Hotel Plaza Zaragoza, one street back from the Playa de la Concha and just a few blocks from the Cathedral. After I eventually found a parking with enough head room to take Deliah's 2.06metres we headed off on a little stroll, our first stop being the Cathedral where the late afternoon sun was projecting beautiful array of colours onto the walls.
We headed out, through the Area Romantica to the edge of the Port. The beach was rammed - it was high season after all and the high tide wasn't helping matters. Enterprising teenagers had pitched their towels along a jetty (ignoring the clearly marked "no bathing" signs) and were diving in. 
The city is based around a bay, with two massive headlands guarding the entrances, the western one topped by a Hotel, the eastern an impressively large statue of Jesus, while the island of Santa Clara sits in the mouth of the bay. As a result it's pretty sheltered and a natural harbour.
The old town is situated below the eastern headland and a brief walk around it's narrow if regular streets followed, before we returned to the beach for a swim (me) and paddle (Kate). The water was perfect - a far cry from the freezing Cornish coast! We'll be back I feel.
We'd been hoping that the sea-breezes coming off the Atlantic might have helped keep the temperatures down, but it was a sweltering 34 degrees as we pulled into town just after 2pm. We were staying in Hotel Plaza Zaragoza, one street back from the Playa de la Concha and just a few blocks from the Cathedral. After I eventually found a parking with enough head room to take Deliah's 2.06metres we headed off on a little stroll, our first stop being the Cathedral where the late afternoon sun was projecting beautiful array of colours onto the walls.
We headed out, through the Area Romantica to the edge of the Port. The beach was rammed - it was high season after all and the high tide wasn't helping matters. Enterprising teenagers had pitched their towels along a jetty (ignoring the clearly marked "no bathing" signs) and were diving in. 
The city is based around a bay, with two massive headlands guarding the entrances, the western one topped by a Hotel, the eastern an impressively large statue of Jesus, while the island of Santa Clara sits in the mouth of the bay. As a result it's pretty sheltered and a natural harbour.
The old town is situated below the eastern headland and a brief walk around it's narrow if regular streets followed, before we returned to the beach for a swim (me) and paddle (Kate). The water was perfect - a far cry from the freezing Cornish coast! We'll be back I feel.
Tuesday, 24 August 2010
Loafing in the Lot - by Theo
After the wonderful hospitality of different generations of the Kuhfelds in London and Kent we arrived at Dover docks at 7.15am braced for a short crossing and then a mammoth drive. Rosie, who has proved a better flier than her mother and better sailor than her father, is not the world's greatest car passenger so we dreading the long haul from Calais down to Ste Croix in the Lot valley region. However, some judicious timing, several breaks on route and Kate's tireless entertainment efforts kept our PFB generally pretty chilled when she wasn't asleep, so when we finally arrived Chez Cathy & Jean at 10.15pm we were merely frazzled and not on the edge of mental breakdown as we'd anticipated. The warm welcome and soup we were met with at our home from home went a long way to restoring us.
As we were not the only visitors at Labouysse, Cathy & Jean's converted former tobacco drying house was at capacity. They had very kindly given us their double room, allowing us to be able to actually move around without tripping over various baby paraphernalia, while Kate's Aunt Frances was in the spare room we usually occupy, her cousin Erica was in the caravan that usually serves as Cathy's painting studio while our hosts themselves had set up a bed in the old oven room in one of the other buildings. Amazingly bathroom queues were at a minimum all week!
I only met Frances briefly at our wedding and had never previously met Erica (who Kate last saw over 10 years ago), but they were excellent company, taking to Rosie immediately (and vice versa), politely allowing me to win at backgammon and keeping the franglish flowing over the lunchtime banquets Cathy provided. Trips to the local swimming lake as well as various friends of Cathy's with swimming pools were very much on the menu. Rosie was rather lukewarm about swimming, unlike the pools which were generally a bit cooler, though with much patience she was generally enticed in.
Kate's sisters Anne-Marie and Claire were also in the area, staying with Kate's former step-dad Tim round the corner at Lebreil, so a trip round there for lunch was very much in order as was a delicious lunch (again) at fellow expats Mike and Brenda. 
On a slightly cooler day yesterday Claire and Mia walked round to spend the day chez Cathy and join us loafing around in Cathy's garden, eating her food and playing games. Frances and Erica have departed today, heading on to visit friends in Germany, and we are leaving tomorrow ourselves, thoroughly relaxed and fed-up (in a good way!), heading home to Madrid via San Sebastian.
Sunday, 15 August 2010
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
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
Friday, 30 July 2010
WOMAD UK - with baby By Kate
OK, we cheated a bit. For the first time in the history of our attendance at WOMAD we didn't camp. But when you've got a six month-old baby and a handy guest room at parents/in-laws fifteen minutes drive away, it was a no-brainer. Plus I'm not a huge fan of camping in any case. It's kind of fun up to a point, but when you're a light sleeper who invariably needs to get up for a pee (or three) in the night, you can basically rule out much in the way of useful snoozery. Not that I get huge amounts of that at the moment anyway, but why make it worse?Accordingly we rolled up in Delilah the Delica early on Friday afternoon armed with sling, baby ear defenders, a picnic rug and a hopeful weather outlook. It was clear from the outset that Rosie was intrigued - no, make that fascinated - by the sights and sounds of the festival. As we walked onto the site her head bobbed from side to side, eyes bright with interest as she took it all in from her comfy position tied to Daddy's chest.
Theo, meanwhile was doing his best impression of a pack horse, also wearing a backpack with various items (rug, changing mat, umbrella) hanging off it. I carried my flower pattern backpack and felt a teeny bit guilty about it. But only a teeny bit.
Duly wristbanded and clutching a festival programme, we headed for the Big Red Tent, Ipercussonici and the first potential obstacle to everyone's enjoyment. Would Rosie consent to wear her ear defenders so we could enjoy the raised decibel levels without having to clamp hands over our offspring's shell-likes to prevent possible hearing damage? The answer, thankfully and slightly surprisingly, was a resounding Yes. In fact, so successful were the defenders, that Rosie proceeded to feed then sleep quite happily while wearing them during the loud desert grooves provided by Toumast at the Open Air Stage.
She napped in the first of several improvised nests we made for her on our rug (with the help of a colourful, highly sequinned parasol we'd purchased from one of the festival stalls) while we indulged in a half of lager and a bit of hip gyrating to Toumast. When Rosie woke up, she charmed everyone around us with huge grins as we danced with her (still in the ear-defenders) and generally Got Down. One woman even came and took our photograph, so enchanted was she by our beaming baby daughter. It was the best possible start to the weekend.The rest of the day was punctuated by more shows (most notable of which was that provided by the French lounge-core outfit Nouvelle Vague and their inspired renditions of various punk and New Wave classics) and a meet-up with Theo's sis, Hermione and spouse Richard and our mates Stu and Sam. In the end we stayed until almost nine o'clock (*thrills*), so comfortable did Rosie appear to be with her role as Official Festival Babe. We caught a bit of Chumbawamba, but were too far from the stage to really hear much, so took our leave.
On Saturday we arrived at the festival slightly better prepared than the previous day - we bought a few cans of lager and cider. We also found a superb spot at the edge of the Open Air Stage which gave us line-of-sight and sound with both that stage and the neighbouring Siam Tent. As the two alternated their shows, it meant we could remain comfortably in position and simply re-angle ourselves to take in one or the other. Probably the highlight of the day performance-wise was a German outfit called LaBrassBanda - yes, a brass band. They were fantastic. 
Rosie's favourite (if her smiles were anything to go by) was Angelique Kidjo and Orchestre National de Barbes, seen by us in Madrid last year, were as endearingly entertaining as we remembered them. It was also good to see locals Phantom Limb in action with Yolanda in fine voice as they ran through their country-tinged set. We caught Imogen Heap's first couple of numbers, but Rosie wasn't especially grabbed and was clearly getting tired by that point, so we made a graceful exit.
On Sunday we had it down to a fine art and managed to catch Sounds of West Africa (did what it said on the tin - very well, too); the Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars (infectious uptempo music, totally belying the misery behind their formation); Mayra Andrade (sultry Samba-style songs - perfect for a sunny Sunday afternoon), Orchestre Poly Rhythmo de Cotonou (good, lively stuff) and the legend that is Rolf Harris.
He was a lot of fun, a consummate performer. Rosie, however, was unimpressed, preferring to sit in the sling firmly clamped to my right breast and doze throughout his set. The rest of us enjoyed it though. The Sarod player Soumik Datta was the last show we watched, hanging out agreeably with Patrick in the Arboretum as the expertly plucked strings sent out their rhythms and melodies from the Radio 3 stage. We ate a healthy festival meal of pie and mash followed by chocolate brownie, then reluctantly took our leave.
We came away two shirts (Theo) and one parasol (me) richer, several pounds poorer, amazingly clean (ah, the bliss of not camping...) and with a baby who, if this was anything to go by, is shaping up as a committed festival enthusiast, just like her parents. As long as it isn't Rolf Harris.
Theo, meanwhile was doing his best impression of a pack horse, also wearing a backpack with various items (rug, changing mat, umbrella) hanging off it. I carried my flower pattern backpack and felt a teeny bit guilty about it. But only a teeny bit.Duly wristbanded and clutching a festival programme, we headed for the Big Red Tent, Ipercussonici and the first potential obstacle to everyone's enjoyment. Would Rosie consent to wear her ear defenders so we could enjoy the raised decibel levels without having to clamp hands over our offspring's shell-likes to prevent possible hearing damage? The answer, thankfully and slightly surprisingly, was a resounding Yes. In fact, so successful were the defenders, that Rosie proceeded to feed then sleep quite happily while wearing them during the loud desert grooves provided by Toumast at the Open Air Stage.
She napped in the first of several improvised nests we made for her on our rug (with the help of a colourful, highly sequinned parasol we'd purchased from one of the festival stalls) while we indulged in a half of lager and a bit of hip gyrating to Toumast. When Rosie woke up, she charmed everyone around us with huge grins as we danced with her (still in the ear-defenders) and generally Got Down. One woman even came and took our photograph, so enchanted was she by our beaming baby daughter. It was the best possible start to the weekend.The rest of the day was punctuated by more shows (most notable of which was that provided by the French lounge-core outfit Nouvelle Vague and their inspired renditions of various punk and New Wave classics) and a meet-up with Theo's sis, Hermione and spouse Richard and our mates Stu and Sam. In the end we stayed until almost nine o'clock (*thrills*), so comfortable did Rosie appear to be with her role as Official Festival Babe. We caught a bit of Chumbawamba, but were too far from the stage to really hear much, so took our leave.
On Saturday we arrived at the festival slightly better prepared than the previous day - we bought a few cans of lager and cider. We also found a superb spot at the edge of the Open Air Stage which gave us line-of-sight and sound with both that stage and the neighbouring Siam Tent. As the two alternated their shows, it meant we could remain comfortably in position and simply re-angle ourselves to take in one or the other. Probably the highlight of the day performance-wise was a German outfit called LaBrassBanda - yes, a brass band. They were fantastic. 
Rosie's favourite (if her smiles were anything to go by) was Angelique Kidjo and Orchestre National de Barbes, seen by us in Madrid last year, were as endearingly entertaining as we remembered them. It was also good to see locals Phantom Limb in action with Yolanda in fine voice as they ran through their country-tinged set. We caught Imogen Heap's first couple of numbers, but Rosie wasn't especially grabbed and was clearly getting tired by that point, so we made a graceful exit.On Sunday we had it down to a fine art and managed to catch Sounds of West Africa (did what it said on the tin - very well, too); the Sierra Leone Refugee All Stars (infectious uptempo music, totally belying the misery behind their formation); Mayra Andrade (sultry Samba-style songs - perfect for a sunny Sunday afternoon), Orchestre Poly Rhythmo de Cotonou (good, lively stuff) and the legend that is Rolf Harris.
He was a lot of fun, a consummate performer. Rosie, however, was unimpressed, preferring to sit in the sling firmly clamped to my right breast and doze throughout his set. The rest of us enjoyed it though. The Sarod player Soumik Datta was the last show we watched, hanging out agreeably with Patrick in the Arboretum as the expertly plucked strings sent out their rhythms and melodies from the Radio 3 stage. We ate a healthy festival meal of pie and mash followed by chocolate brownie, then reluctantly took our leave.
We came away two shirts (Theo) and one parasol (me) richer, several pounds poorer, amazingly clean (ah, the bliss of not camping...) and with a baby who, if this was anything to go by, is shaping up as a committed festival enthusiast, just like her parents. As long as it isn't Rolf Harris.
Monday, 19 July 2010
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!
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!
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Rosie's nicknames - by Theo
In Madrid, Rosie has thus far been unable to gather any nicknames. For sure, there's Rosita, but that's not really a nickname, but rather the Spanish diminutive form. However, since arriving at the Rainbows - their own four children the bearers of a host of bizarre nicknames - Rosie has gathered a few herself.
Bushbie - this just arrived organically one morning, with Becky spontaneously bestowing it on Rosie.
Thumper - the Rainbow kids came up with this, based on Rosie's habit of thumping her legs down loudly when laid on her back.
Pookle - another spontaneous one that Kate, clearly feeling inspired by the surroundings, came up with.
Ruby - an old lady in the supermarket mis-heard Rosie's name and then decided, quite emphatically, that she was a Ruby. This may or may not stick.
Bushbie - this just arrived organically one morning, with Becky spontaneously bestowing it on Rosie.
Thumper - the Rainbow kids came up with this, based on Rosie's habit of thumping her legs down loudly when laid on her back.
Pookle - another spontaneous one that Kate, clearly feeling inspired by the surroundings, came up with.
Ruby - an old lady in the supermarket mis-heard Rosie's name and then decided, quite emphatically, that she was a Ruby. This may or may not stick.
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