Category Archives: Sophie is parenting

The most important meal of the day

When I was a teacher, I was always more than slightly alarmed to see teenagers clutching litre bottles of cut price energy drinks as they arrived at school in the morning. Sometimes this was supplemented with a packet of crisps, but either way I doubted it was going to do much to set them up for a day of learning.

Just by talking to kids about their breakfast habits, it was clear that there was a strong correlation between a healthy and nutritious morning meal and the ability to focus, study and learn – something that has been confirmed by numerous studies over the years.

It is a sad fact that one in seven British schoolchildren go to school without having eaten breakfast at all, but when you look at Africa the figures are even more stark. Research has highlighted that about a third of people in Uganda and Rwanda are gravely undernourished – an estimated fifteen million people. For children, this becomes yet another factor which holds them back from reaching their full potential.

It is for this reason that Send A Cow has launched the Break… Fast Appeal which aims to raise £500,000 to give children in Africa a better start to their days and to their lives. And as part of this appeal they have launched a fantastic free recipe book, ‘The Most Important Meals of Their Lives’, which is available online here and captures in stunning images the food that fuelled the achievements of some of the greatest people in the history of humankind.

From Winston Churchill to Rosa Parks, from Florence Nightingale to Nelson Mandela, this intriguing and inspiring book offers an insight into the meals that created history. And not only that, the clear and straightforward recipes offer you the chance to recreate the meals for yourself.

I rather like the look of Cleopatra’s Ancient Egyptian bread sweetened with honey and dried fruits.

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Someone else who was keen on a starchy start to the day was Jane Austen, with her breakfast of bread and cake accompanied by tea and cocoa.

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Or perhaps you’d rather go for something a little more savoury, like Charles Darwin’s feast of game and eggs?

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Whatever your tastebuds crave in the morning you’re bound to find something in this book to tickle your fancy. I’m certainly looking forward to trying out some of the recipes as an alternative to our breakfast staple of porridge and fruit.

But this is more than just a recipe book. It is a fantastic educational resource that could be used at home or in school not only to raise awareness of the importance of breakfast for children in Africa, but also to spark off conversations with young people about how they start their day. Perhaps by exploring the meals that their heroes enjoyed, teenagers might be encouraged to rediscover this essential meal for themselves – who knows, it might just be enough to release the potential of the people who will shape our future just its subjects have shaped our past.

You can find out more about the appeal and download your copy of the book at www.sendacow.org.uk/breakfast. Whilst the book is free, there is a suggested contribution of £2.50 to the appeal. The UK government are doubling all donations made until the end of June 2014, meaning that your £2.50 would provide enough to support an African child for a month. For £30, you could support a child for an entire year! Now that’s a lot of breakfasts…

 

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The wonderful wedding of Non and Ash

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Since I was little I’ve been going on holiday to glorious Cadgwith Cove, a truly idyllic little fishing village on the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall. Not only is it stunning, but it’s also home to much of my Mum’s family – and on Saturday it was the spectacular site of the wedding of my cousin Non.

The ceremony took place in the beautiful tin church that sits at the bottom of my Nanny’s garden. From there it was a bit of a challenging walk to the reception: we set off with my brother and sister-in-law, Arthur dozing and feeding in the sling.

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We arrived to find two geodesic domes in a field which sloped down towards the sea. Arthur woke up almost immediately, and was desperate to get down and start to explore.

He braved the bouncy castle first with the help of my mum – he wasn’t too sure what to make of it but at least he had a chance to try it out before the older kids (and adventurous adults) took it over!

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Then he was off across the field, calling out ‘water’ as he pointed at the sea. Fortunately he was intercepted by the bride and groom’s dog, Poppy, before he managed to get that far…

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He made it back up to crash a couple of wedding photos before heading off to enjoy the view again with dada. It really was quite a view, and the weather could not have been more perfect.

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When it was time to head inside the fun continued as Arthur split his time between the kids’ table and the various grown ups keen to keep him entertained.

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It was such a lovely occasion for all of us – surrounded by family in a gorgeous setting with so much creativity and attention to detail. As the meal came to a close we spilled out on to the grass to soak up the last of the sunshine and recharge ready for an evening of dancing: the perfect end to a perfect day.

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Poldhu Cove

I love Devon, but one of the great things about living there rather than London is how much closer we are to Cornwall. My Mum’s family live down here and we’re visiting for a few days. And with the weather being as glorious as it has been we thought we’d better make the most of it and head to the beach!

Since we got back from Cyprus Arthur has been dying to get in the sea again. We’ve managed a couple of little paddles in the beaches near us, but we haven’t quite had the time or the weather to get stuck in with some proper beach action. So today we got Arthur layered up with his swim nappy, wetsuit and uv top and set him free at Poldhu Cove.

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He headed straight for the sea, running over the golden sand and not hesitating for a second as the cold water lapped up over his ankles. I was impressed with his bravery, and relieved that last summer’s enthusiasm for the English sea had not diminished with his new awareness. It definitely bodes well for the rest of the summer.

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He enjoyed playing on the sand too. He seems to have moved on from eating it thankfully, and with the little bucket and spade set my mum picked up from the beach shop he sat transfixed as I had a quick (chilly) dip. He was fascinated with the way the sand behaved in the water, beginning little experiments which I’m sure will get more complex as he gets older.

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His enthusiasm seemed to go on and on, long after I thought the shivers would have set in and much to the amusement of the watching lifeguard. He was clearly in his element, loving the space to run, the sea to splash in and the sensation of the sand between his toes (and pretty much everywhere else too).

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Needless to say, by the time we did manage to distract him for long enough to get him dry and warm he was exhausted, and very ready for a nap the moment we got him to the car. All in all a highly successful beach trip – the start of summer, and the first of many more to come.

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Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall



Word of the Week: Cuddle

Today the word that sums up the week that was is:

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Arthur has been wanting lots of cuddles recently. Partly I think he’s needed the comfort: his teeth have been bothering him for sure – he has eight coming through at the moment – and he’s had a bit of a cold this week too. More than that though he’s worked out how to name them – they’re ‘duddles’ rather than ‘cuddles’, but now he can ask for them he wants them all the time.

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It starts from the moment he wakes up in the morning: reaching out his arms for cuddles, not only from us but also from his bears.

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As the day goes on he’ll keep checking in to recharge, making sure he gets his cuddle quota. If we’re hard to reach then anything will do – his water bottle, or perhaps a piece of roasted carrot.

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Each expression of cuddly affection is accompanied by a cry of ‘duddle!’, full of urgency and enthusiasm. It is the cutest thing to watch, and to be on the receiving end of the duddles is even more adorable.

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I hope that this isn’t entirely just a phase, that what we’re witnessing is the growth of our baby into a little boy fuelled by the exchange of such heartfelt affection. It might just be one of the best things about being a mum, and if I’m honest I’m not sure how I coped when I didn’t have so many cuddles in my life.

 

The Reading Residence

 

The power of attachment

Before Arthur was born, I didn’t really have much of an idea about the kind of parent I wanted to be. I knew I wasn’t great at keeping to fixed routines, and my time as a teacher had taught me that nurturing young people generally works best when you take the cues from them. But it was one thing listening to teenagers communicate their needs and wants – how on earth was I supposed to do that with a tiny baby?

I knew I wanted to breastfeed, but I figured I’d want to express fairly regularly so that other people could feed the baby too and I could have a bit of freedom. It was losing my freedom, if I’m honest, that I was most nervous about. I was sure I’d want to make the most of my parents’ enthusiasm as new grandparents to get out for time alone with Leigh, to touch base with the me that I was before I became pregnant rather than letting this new little person take over everything.

We were given a pram by Leigh’s parents, having researched endlessly which one would be best for tackling the off-road paths and beaches near where we live. My mum helped me decorate the nursery, all decked out with the cot the baby would move into once he’d passed the six month stage and was ready to graduate to his own room. I knew there would be times when he would sleep with us, but I definitely didn’t want to encourage that on a regular basis.

And then when Arthur was born everything changed. He went from being an abstract baby to a real little human being – and I was surprised to find that I didn’t want to leave his side. I didn’t really get out of bed for the first two weeks after he was born. Partly because it was the middle of winter, and partly because it took all the focus and energy I could muster to overcome the problems we had getting breastfeeding established (you can read about that here). And during that time, when I wasn’t dozing, I read. I started by browsing internet forums looking for inspiration about how I was actually going to approach this business of parenting. I know people say that you should just trust your instincts, but I was terrified of getting it wrong – I did have an idea about how I wanted to do things, but it was so different to what I considered socially acceptable that I needed validation. And slowly I began to find it.

I realised that I identified with what people were calling attachment parenting – I’d never heard of it before, but keen to find out more I ordered several books – Dr Sears’ The Baby Book was great for day to day questions and concerns, but it was the work of Deborah Jackson that really inspired me. I read When Your Baby Cries and Three in a Bed, and as I journeyed with her through different times and cultures I realised that the status quo I had come to accept was far from the only option.

As Arthur and I began to face the world together, I began to put these ideas into practice. After nearly being put off by the first sling I tried I soon became a convert to babywearing – I wrote about the beginnings of that journey here. I found that I was so calm and focused when I was wearing my baby – I didn’t have to put him down alone to get things done, or worry about him as he napped elsewhere. Bizarrely by physically attaching Arthur to me I found I finally had the freedom to begin to live my life again, starting with beginning to write the novel that had been swimming around in my head for so long.

It was a long time before we asked my parents to babysit – they’ve still only done it a couple of times – because we decided we’d miss Arthur too much and would rather he just came with us. And so he did, to meals out, to parties, to gigs, to festivals. I was surprised again – though of course relieved – to find that Leigh shared my inclinations, and as a result the three of us have had so many fantastic adventures together.

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The thing that has most surprised both Leigh and I though has been I think our attitudes to sleep. The sixth month point came and went long ago and Arthur is still sleeping in our room. We’ve talked about it, and both agree that it’s going to be a little while before we’re ready to give up co-sleeping. Arthur loves being close to us, and there is something quite magical about sharing the moments just before he goes to sleep and when he has just woken up as well as the groundswell of love that I still feel when I watch his sleeping form in the middle of the night or he snuggles up to me for a feed.

I know that we’ve been lucky, that there are certain freedoms that we’ve had that have meant I have been able to let Arthur set the pace. I haven’t had to go back to my job as a teacher, and as I muddle through in my attempts to forge a new career at home I can adjust how and when and where I do things to suit his rhythms.

And bizarrely, with all this talk of attachment and the warnings I’ve ignored from well meaning advisors, Arthur’s actually becoming a very confident and easy going little boy. He rarely cries, and as much as I try to follow his cues whenever I can he is proving himself to be highly adaptable when he has to fall in step with me.

I am just so glad I took the time to explore the alternative approaches to parenting that were out there, to find a way to meet the needs of both my baby and myself. I’m glad too that I accepted the changes that becoming a parent wrought within me – however surprising they were at first. I suppose you’ll never know what sort of a parent you’ll be until you are one – I’m not for a second suggesting that the approach we’ve taken would work for everyone, but for the time being at least it definitely seems to be working for us.

Thank you to Sara at Mum Turned Mom for inspiring this post with her prompt of ‘surprise’.

 

mumturnedmom

 

A playground by the sea

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Another day, another playground. This time we went to the Geoplay Park in Paignton which I’ve been meaning to check out for ages. It’d been a busy day already – in the morning we’d had baby gym and mummy trampolining, followed by lunch with friends and a swim. But then in the afternoon the sun came out and, impatiently waiting for a bus to take us back to Brixham, I figured it’d be a shame not to make the most of it.

We started with a snack, Arthur perusing the playground whilst he munched on a banana overlooked by a caveman and a woolly mammoth. The park is inspired by the English Riviera’s geological history, with separate areas from toddlers to teens representing different periods in time. There were lots of new things to explore, and it wasn’t long before Arthur went diving in.

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The slide was of course familiar, and Arthur enjoyed climbing through the little house to get to it. Well, the first time anyway – after that he decided walking back up the slide itself would be much more efficient!

He toyed with the idea of going through the tunnel to the massive geodesic climbing frames on the other side but decided against it. I was quite glad actually as I’m not sure I’d’ve been able to follow…

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Instead he went over to the trampoline. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it when I lifted him on, and was soon holding his hands out to be saved. I resisted though, pretty sure he’d manage to clamber off himself. He’s really into climbing at the moment and very nearly made it, but I did have to help him out at the final hurdle.

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Then he noticed the sand and water play area and got properly excited. He was a little bit little to make the most of it really, beyond the obvious attraction of getting covered in both. But I think as he gets older the dams and balances and diggers will be fantastic for teaching him all sorts of physics in action as well as being good, messy fun.

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As if the day hadn’t been exciting enough, just as Arthur was beginning to get tired his dada turned up having stopped by to pick us up on his way home from work. He was over the moon to see him, and settled in for some serious daddy cuddles whilst we took a stroll along the seafront and had a drink overlooking the bay before heading home.

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It’s days like this that make me love where we live, and I love our new playground too. We will definitely be heading back soon – and we might even make it onto the beach next time!

 

Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall

Resisting the ‘inevitable’

Browsing through the education news this week, I came across this article. It reports on a study which seems to show that young people in the UK are being held back because their parents believe that their failure is inevitable – if they are not ‘born bright’, then no amount of hard work is going to change their futures.

This study has strong echoes of the beliefs of Dominic Cummings, a former special adviser to Gove who sparked outrage when he claimed that the fate of young people is determined by their genes, with neither them nor anyone else having the power to change that.

As a teacher, this notion certainly does not ring true for me – though there is no denying it permeates the attitudes of a good proportion of young people, parents and teachers alike. It was not uncommon to hear a year seven student declare they would never be any good at English for example, or a parent to respond to concerns about underachievement with the explanation that their child just wasn’t academic. Teachers too would sometimes fall into the trap of judging a new student by the prior performance of their siblings, or dismiss entire groups as unteachable. The practice of setting by ability, which in some schools begins when children are just five years old, is essentially dictating who will pass or fail – ask a pupil in a bottom set and they will rarely have much faith in their potential to succeed.

But for every young person who followed the seemingly inevitable path, leaving school at sixteen with minimal qualifications, there were others who were transformed by their time in education. The boy who at twelve was thrown out of most of his classes because of his inability to concentrate and went on to combine sixth form study with mentoring younger students who were struggling to focus. The girl who at fourteen believed she could aspire no further than vocational qualifications in childcare despite her dreams of university yet went on to complete the International Baccalaureate diploma and win a place on a degree course.

I am not saying here that academic success at school is the be all and end all – we all know stories of people who have broken the cycle of inevitability themselves, going on to build exciting careers in their adult lives despite the odds being stacked against them. But there is no denying that successfully jumping through the hoops of academic qualifications opens doors, giving people more choice over what to do with their lives rather than having their path dictated for them.

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As a parent, my interest in resisting the inevitable has been revived with new vigour. I want my son to be able to be whoever and whatever he wants to be, to be happy in his choices and not to be held back by other people’s beliefs about what he is capable of. I’m sure that is the dream of all new parents – looking at that helpless bundle of newborn joy in their arms and imagining a future which is boundless and free.

And yet before long something begins to change. A girl who does not seem to take much interest in books at the age of one is destined never to be a reader. A boy of three who runs around like a whirlwind is declared unlikely to ever really be able to focus – but it’s ok because he’s a boy and that’s what boys do. As children grow up even seemingly positive statements can begin to close doors – in my family my brothers and I were labelled encouragingly as ‘the sporty one’, ‘the creative one’, ‘the academic one’ and ‘the musical one’. Actually my youngest brother chose that label for himself, not wanting to compete with what he perceived as our territories. It has served him well, though the rest of us took many years to realise that maybe we could be more than just one thing, that in fact we were all creative, sporty, musical and academic in our own ways and the choices we made in our lives could reflect that.

Of course it’s almost impossible to resist labelling to some degree, but young people are so impressionable that I think it’s vital that anyone with a stake in their upbringing empowers them to believe that their future is not inevitable. The more I watch my baby finding his place in the world the more I believe that his potential is unlimited – and the more I hope he can hold on to that belief as he follows his dreams.

Thank you to Sara at ‘Mum Turned Mom’ for inspiring this post with her prompt: ‘It was inevitable…’

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Word of the Week: Garden

Today the word that sums up the week that was is:

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We only have a little one, with no lawn and lots of awkward angles. When we bought our house it was a mess of concrete, its potential limited by the hill that it’s built into, but we were willing to sacrifice anything more substantial for the fact that we’re so close to the sea. When I look outside now, although I’m actually quite proud with what we managed to do with it, I do wonder whether in our pre-child mindset we were underestimating the importance of space to run. Certainly if anything would make us consider moving again it would be that.

Fortunately Arthur’s not quite as picky as me. He loves our garden, and would spend every waking hour out there if he had his way. Over the winter it’s got progressively hazardous – rainwater filled pots, detritus from the work we had done on the roof, sludgy piles of rotting leaves, unruly brambles. But when the sun came out last weekend Leigh could hold himself back no longer and blitzed the worst of it. Arthur was delighted, determined to help as much as he could!

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Once things were looking a little bit clearer we got the cushions out, and even managed the first barbecue of the season. The intimacy of the space is definitely going to present a challenge with that particular hazard, but Arthur seems to be learning the word (and concept) ‘hot’ – before long he was keeping his distance and blowing whilst waving his hand cautiously, an awareness which seems to have spread to the oven inside too.

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We found time to enjoy the garden during the week too, chilling and exploring after lunch. As my eyes become accustomed to the space again I’m becoming increasingly aware of all the jobs that still need doing – cutting back and planting, particularly our little raised veg patch which was fantastic for salads last year. I’m really not all that green fingered. In fact looking after a garden would probably rank somewhere near the bottom of the skills I’ve acquired over the years. But I’m sure that even I can manage to get our little garden looking its best – especially with such an eager little helper by my side.

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The Reading Residence

 

A different path

One of the great things about living so close to Berry Head is that we can explore different parts of it every time we wander up. Yesterday, instead of heading straight for the path that offers the most spectacular views over the bay, we followed Arthur’s lead as he meandered deeper into the woods.

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He loved feeling the different textures of mud, sticks and stones under his feet, and managed the more challenging terrain surprisingly well. It did take us a little longer than usual as he had to stop every time he came across something which might do as a little seat and test it out. It’s become a familiar routine whenever we pass a step or a ledge or a rock he might be able to sit on – the pointing, the calling out ‘chair’, and then carefully manoeuvring himself backwards until he’s sat down with a look of satisfaction on his face.

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When we finally made it up to the headland, Arthur led us into the visitor’s centre where they have a box of artefacts from the surrounding countryside conveniently placed at toddler height for little hands to investigate.

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I’ve shown him this box several times over the past year. At first he wasn’t interested, then he only really wanted to find out what everything tasted like, but now he’s beginning to be more curious about all the different shapes and textures of the objects he finds. He giggled as I tickled him with a pheasant’s feather, and turned shells and stones over in his hands.

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He began to try to label what he found, calling the starfish a ‘star’ quite aptly, and then deciding the scallop shell was a ‘moon’. It’s fascinating the connections he’s starting to make between colours and shapes – I really need to start to note them down to help me come up with more interesting metaphors in my writing!

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When he decided he’d done enough investigating for one day he was off again, toddling across the open space outside the visitor centre, waving at strangers and barking at dogs. He made a beeline for a bench, clearly deciding that another little sit down was just what he needed. Not surprising really after all his hard work!

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Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall     

My little pirate

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Every year on the first May bank holiday, our town becomes over-run with pirates. We’ve managed to (unintentionally) miss the fun over the past couple of years that we’ve been here, but this weekend we had no excuse so we bundled up our sleepy teething baby and wandered down to the harbour to see what was going on.

First step was to fashion Arthur a costume: it’s amazing what can be achieved with a stripy top and a napkin. The parrot was actually one of Leigh’s birthday presents. We have a way to go before our efforts come close to some of the spectacular pirate outfits we saw in town, but it’s a start.

For Arthur’s animal companion we settled on a monkey backpack that handily converts to reins. I’m not generally a fan of the idea of keeping my son on a leash, but with the crowds around and him desperately to get in on the action it felt like a sensible safety line in case he managed to slip free of our hands – and particularly useful for gently edging him away from the lure of a springtime swim.

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The water was actually not as cold as we expected. It certainly won’t be long before we brave a dip, but I couldn’t quite pluck up the courage this weekend. There was still a bit of a nip in the air, but the weather was generally gorgeous – definitely sunglasses territory, though Arthur seems to prefer his Dad’s to his own!

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Brixham was absolutely buzzing – music echoing around the harbour bowl from the stage in the old fish market, performers taking over the streets and a mix of locals and tourists in some pretty impressive piratical attire.

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I think Arthur was a little confused about what was going on – quite understandable really as it certainly wasn’t your average Brixham weekend! But nonetheless he seemed to enjoy himself, watching transfixed as his town was transformed. It definitely managed to take his mind off his teeth which is no bad thing.

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