Monthly Archives: June 2014
Hanging about in the hood
After a couple of hectic and exciting weeks away in Cornwall and entertaining visitors here we’ve actually quite enjoyed being at home on our own this week. I’ve had lots of writing and admin to catch up on, and it’s been nice having Brixham to ourselves again now that everyone’s gone home after half term.
On Monday afternoon, as the sun broke through the clouds and Arthur’s patience began to wane after I’d spent far too long at the computer, I thought we’d better get outside.
We didn’t go far – just to the little park on the other side of the coastguard cottages at first, where Arthur was very happy to run around in the grass and enjoy the view. He was looking particularly cute in his new summer cap and I couldn’t help but get a bit snap happy…
He found some daisies, and as usual had to check out how they tasted.
Even more exciting was when he came across a stick: he tried to dress it with his hat, though in the end decided it looked better on his head.
This is my favourite shot I think – contented and a little pensive in the shelter overlooking the pool.
Of course it wasn’t long before he persuaded me to take him down the steps to be a bit closer to the water. The pool was being cleaned (which made me feel better about not having made the effort to get our kit together for an inaugural dip), but as always Arthur loved taking a stroll alongside the mural.
He was inching closer and closer to the sea though, and I soon gave in and took him down to the little beach at the end of the rocks. I don’t think I’ve actually been down there with Arthur before. There’s only really a beach at low tide, and if the wind’s been blowing in the wrong direction it can be a bit of a magnet for rubbish. But Monday afternoon was perfect – lots of sand and gently lapping water. Arthur was in his element.
We didn’t last that long, as once he’d dipped his toes in the water he couldn’t resist sitting down – my reflexes were not quite quick enough so he ended up with a very damp bottom! As we’d been just nipping out I was of course completely unprepared.
There was a bit of protestation as I whipped him up into the sling, but once he was there he was happy just to snuggle up as we strolled back home for supper. A perfect little jaunt, and one which I’m sure we’ll repeat many many times over the summer: just hanging about in the hood.
Word of the Week: Ukulele
Today the word that sums up the week that was is:
Those of you who’ve been with me since the beginning may remember that soon after Arthur turned one we bought him a ukulele in an attempt to satisfy his guitar obsession (and save his dad’s guitars!)
Well, turns out that was no short-lived fad – and recently he’s been taking his love of his ukulele to a whole new level. Arthur can’t bear to be parted from his ‘tar’ as he calls it (I think ‘ukulele’ might take him a while to master), so whilst we’re at home it’s never far from his side.
He’s been concentrating very hard on making sure his fingers are in the right place…
And generally loving getting lost in the music!
He’s adopting an increasingly amusing range of costumes to enhance his performance…
And even perfecting his rock star pout.
I, however, am starting to get increasingly aware that my total lack of ukulele skills are not exactly going to be very inspiring to him. I’ve bought myself a kids ‘learn to play’ book, but I’m really not getting very far… Fortunately together we’ve discovered some incredible players like Jake Shimabukuro, Honoka & Azita and The Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. He’s been taking some general tips from Mumford and Sons too: The Road to Red Rocks has been this week’s favourite.
Arthur loves to watch and listen, either sitting very still as he takes it all in or dancing and playing along. And I’m just fascinated with his burgeoning love affair with this instrument – and very curious to see how it develops!
D is for daddy
Daddy is a new thing: up until a couple of days ago it was dada, but now Arthur has started saying ‘dadeee’ – super pleased with himself, and even cuter than usual. Whichever way he puts it, watching the relationship grow between my man and our baby has to be one of the best things about being a mum. I especially love it when Leigh wears Arthur in the sling. I’m not sure why – I think perhaps because I know that for me there’s nothing that comes closer to the feeling I had when I carried our baby inside me for nine months. It’s pretty incredible to know Leigh gets to share that.
Whilst we’re on the subject of dads, I just have to share this picture I found of me and my dad on a ferry to the Scillies many many years ago. Vintage babywearing at its best!
Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.
A Big Easy Adventure
As we’re beginning to look forward to our adventures this summer I’ve found myself reminiscing about everything we got up to last year – our first summer as a family. The flip side of all the hard work Leigh is slogging through in term time as he trains to be a doctor is that he gets some pretty awesome holidays. We’re under no illusion how tough things are going to be in the first few years after he actually qualifies, but for now we’re determined to make the most of it.
We spent lots of last summer in the UK enjoying the incredible weather, but in the middle of it all we took a trip to the US and Canada – and it’s not one I’m going to forget in a hurry!
It all started when we were watching Big Easy Express for the umpteenth time. Of all the adventures my brother has had since his career in music has taken off, this was the one I most wish I could have been a part of: a vintage train full of extremely talented musicians travelling through the US countryside stopping off to play gigs along the way. When their plans for last summer started to come together – a series of Gentlemen of the Road festivals in out-of-the-way locations across the pond, with Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros and Old Crow Medicine Show along for the ride again too – I began to think that just maybe this was our opportunity to get a taste of that adventure.
Fast forward a few months and we were off: flying to New York with tickets booked to take us by train to Halifax in Nova Scotia, stopping off at Simcoe, Ontario on the way for a weekend of music and festival fun.
We were in New York for a week, spending some of it catching up with Ben and Jemima who had moved out there at the beginning of the year and the rest seeing the sights and soaking up the rhythm of the city. Arthur was quite happy to hang out in the sling, looking around or dozing as we explored. We barely scratched the surface really of what New York has to offer, but there was certainly plenty to keep us entertained!
From New York we got the Maple Leaf train to Toronto: it was a twelve hour journey but actually went way quicker than we expected.
Arthur was excited to be doing something new and different, and stunning views kept us all entertained.
The most tedious bit was at the Canadian border when we had to get off the train with baby and luggage in hand and walk through customs only to get back on the same train an hour or so later!
Toronto was awesome. Smaller and more manageable than New York, but still lots to see. The CN Tower was particularly impressive: both from the ground looking up and the spectacular view from the top.
We had friends to catch up with when we got there too. Arthur’s Oddmother, though she lives in London, was in a nearby town visiting her family, and a mutual friend of ours had recently moved back to her hometown nearby. It was great to see them both on their home turf – and Arthur loved the opportunity we had for a bit of lake swimming too…
Then a few days later we were off to Simcoe. We rented a car, picked up my brother Greg and his wife on our way – they’d flown in for a long weekend – and headed out to the countryside. The festival had completely taken over the town – it was pretty surreal to see images of Ben everywhere, but brilliant how completely the locals had embraced their British visitors.
The music was of course the highlight of the weekend, and we found some pretty fantastic vantage points where we could watch and listen without getting caught up in the crowds. Arthur was fascinated by the bits he was awake for – but also showed a remarkable ability to sleep when he needed to, whatever else was going on around him!
Then it was back to Toronto ready for the longest journey of the trip: thirty hours on a train to get to Halifax where Leigh’s extended family live. This was actually the bit I’d most been looking forward to, but as the dream became a reality I did start to get a little nervous about what our increasingly mobile baby would make of it all…
Turns out I need not have worried. Our cabin was cosy, but Arthur was happy to snuggle up with me in a bunk (I did put him next to the wall when we actually went to sleep!)
We spent a lot of our time in the vintage observation carriage – just like the one in the film! We got chatting to the host there and said we’d been inspired to make the trip after my brother and his band did some gigs on a train. He was very excited to hear which band we were talking about and said he often held screenings of Big Easy Express which was one of his favourite films. Arthur of course had no idea about any of that but certainly seemed to enjoy being on the train whilst the world sped by outside the windows.
When we finally got to Halifax it was brilliant to catch up with Leigh’s family and to introduce Arthur to them for the first time – especially his Great Grandad.
All in all it was a wonderful adventure, full of friends, family and new experiences for all of us. Our plans this summer will keep us closer to home, but I’m sure it won’t be too long before we’re off exploring the world again!
Shoalstone Pool
Some of you might remember a couple of months back I wrote about Brixham’s amazing seawater lido. It’s a stone’s throw from our house, and I’ve been looking forward to spending summer days there with Arthur splashing in the water and looking out over the bay. And now it’s open! And looking even more beautiful than ever before.
We were there for the official opening last weekend when the pool was decked out with bunting and stripy deckchairs and the committee who have worked tirelessly to get the pool ready for the season were celebrating with local residents and our local MP Sarah Woollaston who cut the ribbon to declare it officially open.
It looked fantastic, and it was so lovely to see the local community coming together – a community without whom it’s likely the pool wouldn’t have opened at all. It was a shame that the weather wasn’t quite as glorious as it had been the week before, though the looming clouds made for a very dramatic scene and there were still a handful of people who braved the chill to welcome in the pool’s new season with a dip in the turquoise water.
I have to admit we haven’t yet made it in. I’ve been telling myself it’s because it would be irresponsible to take Arthur into the cold water without at least some sunshine to warm him up, but to be honest he’d be in there like a flash if I let him! In fact it’s been all we can do to hold him back…
So I don’t think it’ll be long before we take the plunge: I know full well that once the initial shock of the cold has passed the pure exhilaration of swimming in such an iconic pool and glorious location will soon take over. For now though we’re just admiring it from dry land, full of gratitude for the people who’ve worked so hard to restore it for another year and full of anticipation for that all important first swim of the summer!
To find out more about the pool and how you can help support it go to www.shoalstonepool.com.

Just a matter of time
Time is a weird thing. On one level it should be pretty straightforward: seconds and minutes and hours and days that are clearly defined, easily comparable and impossible to argue with. Except it never quite works like that.
There are days when time seems to stretch out endlessly before me. When it seems to bend to my will, allowing me to squeeze out extra drops of possibility long after the well should have run dry. Those days were especially frequent when I was teaching. I’d look at my to do list in the morning, scrunching up my nose with the conviction that this would be the day that had me beat. And yet I’d find myself in the evening, exhausted with a glass of wine in hand, marvelling at all I’d managed to achieve. And I’d get up the next morning and do it again, continuing on repeat until the end of term finally appeared. Those days still happen now that I’m a work at home mum, though they’re coloured by the knowledge that not for a long time will I have a real holiday to collapse into. I’m wary when I feel myself straining against my limits as I know I cannot afford to break.
There are other days when time seems to eat me up. When everything seems to take forever, and the simplest tasks balloon out of my control. There have been more of those since I’ve been a mum: having a baby in hand makes rushing almost impossible, and the fog of sleep deprivation has much to answer for in its ability to mess with the very fabric of the universe.
My least favourite days are when time scares me. When it looms up out of nowhere and laughs at my dreams. In many ways I think I’m still extremely sheltered and naive: I haven’t yet had to cope with loss on any grand scale, and I’m only just surfacing out of that teenage belief in invincibility to realise that my time on this planet is not in fact infinite. I look at my son, think of all the things I want to show him, to experience with him, and sometimes I am filled with a sense of dread. What if there just isn’t enough time?
I chastise myself for the hours and days and weeks I wasted when I was younger – time spent on trying to make time go faster, to get to a place where I would be happy, where I didn’t have to try so hard any more.
Because now I’m here, and I want to savour every moment. I know that I can’t really change the amount of time I have left, but I also know that if there are days when ten minutes can feel like forever then I want to strive for that rather than let them pass in a flash. Everyone says that time speeds up when you have kids, but I’m not sure I’m willing to accept that.
So I will continue on my mission to bend time to my will, to see it less as a set of shackles I must comply with and more as a challenge to be overcome. The Doctor put it well when he spoke of ‘wibbley wobbley timey wimey’: certainly nothing to be taken too seriously, not when there’s just so much to do.
Thank you to Sara at Mum Turned Mom for inspiring this post with her prompt: ‘I wish I had more time…’
































































