Category Archives: Sophie is travelling

A shimmery, sparkly winter wedding

We travelled to Dublin this weekend for the wedding of my cousin Tom and his beautiful bride Ciana, and what a shimmering, sparkling wedding it was.

It was about ten degrees colder when we arrived in Ireland than it had been here in Devon, and when we awoke on Saturday morning in our hotel about an hour South of Dublin it was to the most perfect winter day you could imagine. The sky was blue, and the frost had covered the entire landscape in sparkles: there was nothing for it but to wrap up warm and go for a walk.

Arthur was fascinated by the crispy grass underfoot, and transfixed by the long, drawn out shadows cast by the winter sun. He was so focused on the immediate sensory overload at first that I’m not sure he even noticed the spectacular scenery around him. I did though, and it took my breath away – especially with this little boy in red running through it.

It was the first time Arthur had really been aware of winter ‘on the ground’. He was still a couple of months off walking this time last year, so it was Spring before he was ready for outdoor exploration.

He was, as always, he drawn to the puddles: but these ones were frozen!

He discovered how cold – and how slippery – this stuff called ice was, and took tremendous delight in stamping on it as it cracked beneath him.

It was one of those walks where the pace was slowed right down so Arthur could take everything in, but it was most definitely worth it for the joy his new discoveries gave him.

A little chilly but but very much invigorated, we headed in to get ready. I am very glad that Arthur loves dressing up, and he was particularly proud of his sparkly boots – which handily matched my own silver shoes perfectly. Very important to coordinate with your toddler after all!

From there we went to the ceremony, which was nothing short of magical. The space was lit by nets of fairy lights and candles, shimmering off the pure white walls and filling the air with anticipation.

They had chosen a humanist ceremony, as Leigh and I had for our wedding, and I found myself welling up with nostalgia and love. After his morning walk in the cold Arthur slept in the sling for pretty much the entire ceremony, giving me the chance to focus on the words. I love how individual and personal a humanist ceremony can be, how different the details are as they adapt to the uniqueness of each couple, but also how the common threads running through are so empowering and all-enveloping, so fundamental – without any of the complications that I find religion can bring.

From the ceremony we headed outside into the chill then back in to the reception. The venue was full of Christmas trees, bringing another layer of magic and sparkle that Arthur just couldn’t resist.

This continued as day turned into evening, with the most spectacular dance floor I have ever seen taking centre stage.

It was the perfect spot for little people to run around on, and in fact the chatter and laughter of children that threaded through the fabric of the day was one of the loveliest things about it I reckon.

For Arthur, though, the band was definitely the highlight. I couldn’t drag him away as they were setting up and he started to realise what was about to happen.

When they did begin to play he was in his element. He watched the first dance, entranced but impatient, and as soon as he could he was up at the front, mirroring the guitarist’s fingers with his own and getting swept up in the music.

It was a lovely, lovely day, shimmering and sparkling from start to finish. Between the ice and the trees and the twinkly lights it was wonderfully, magically romantic. And now that we’re back home, with Christmas fast approaching, we are well and truly imbued with the festive spirit.

Possibly the best toddler museum in the world

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Other than our discovery of the playground at Coram’s Fields, the hands down highlight of last week’s trip to London for Arthur had to be the London Transport Museum. As a self-confessed transport geek I’ve always loved it myself – and it turns out that for a toddler it is pretty much heaven.

He’d already been overwhelmed with the excitement of being surrounded by buses and taxis and trains as we made our way around the city, and as soon as he saw the vehicles inside the museum he was off.

He was particularly drawn to this vintage car, desperate to be allowed to climb up over the luggage and sit inside.

Fortunately there was plenty else to distract him. He loved the scrolling lights inside one of the side exhibition spaces – they made him jump at first, but he was soon fascinated by the words and images all around him.

He was very taken by the miniature tube trains too – I think he spent about ten minutes pressing the buttons so he could watch them travel along their little tracks and back again, roping in any passing kids he could to join in too.

I think I was a bit more excited than him by the full size tube train simulation, but he was intrigued by the tunnel rushing by.

He found it much easier to get hands on with the driving in the All Aboard area, bouncing between the riverboat, train and bus like a pro.

Once he’d warmed up a bit he was ready to tackle his favourite ride of all: a full size London bus.

We had a fantastic afternoon, the only downside of which was that he then spent the rest of the week trying to get into the driver’s seat of the buses we travelled on. We’ll be heading back for sure next time we’re in the city, and in the meantime there is a little wooden tube train on his train tracks to remind him of his trip to London Town.

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Letting off steam in Coram’s Fields

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Arthur was a little superstar during our trip to London last week. There was lots about it that I think he enjoyed: he loved hanging out with new people in unusual places, and was totally captivated by the huge array of vehicles. But there was also lots that was rather testing for a toddler. Sitting still, mainly – on buses and tubes whilst we crossed the capital and in restaurants and cafés whilst mummy talked too much. He just wanted to explore, to run around – ‘walk and play!’ was his increasingly frustrated refrain.

And on Friday we found the perfect place for him to do just that. After a stroll around the not terribly toddler friendly British Museum and a very long wait for lunch at Strada, my friend suggested we go to Coram’s Fields. It hadn’t really been on my radar when I lived in London. I mean, I knew it was there – but you can’t even go in unless you’ve got a kid, and it really is focused towards the needs of the city’s littlest residents. And Arthur absolutely loved it.

He rode on the little spring-mounted animals first, crossing between the duck and the horsey several times. Then he saw the slide, making his way up the perfectly proportioned steps to show off the skills he’s learning in gymnastics – hanging off the bar and swinging himself onto the slide whilst I tried not to leap prematurely to his aid.

He had a go at climbing up the rope ladder too, and very nearly managed that on his own.

There were lots of little ‘baby houses’ for Arthur to explore, and he loved running between them without needing me to hold his hand every step of the way.

It was wonderful to see his increasing confidence, even if deep inside there was a pang of something else as I realised my little baby boy is growing up before my eyes.

It was definitely a much-needed pitstop – it’s always great to find new playgrounds, and this is one I’d heartily recommend if you find yourself in central London with an energetic toddler in tow!

Word of the week: London

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This week, Arthur and I have been hanging out in London. We were going to be up for the weekends anyway, with two family birthdays to celebrate, and as Leigh had a big exam this week and I had lots of friends to catch up with it made sense to stay in between. It was a little bit daunting – my parents were around last weekend, but after they headed back to Devon on Monday it was just me and the toddler. It turns out I needn’t have worried at all – we’ve had a brilliant week, and Arthur has taken everything in his stride.

We’ve traversed the city to touch base with some of my oldest and bestest friends, meeting new babies and hanging out with growing toddlers. Arthur has really impressed me by his ability to share and play nicely, and he’s enjoyed the journeys as much as anything – there have been lots of trains and tubes and buses and escalators to ride.

Possibly his favourite place has been the London Transport Museum, where he marvelled excitedly at the wide range of vehicles to admire and play with – more on that to come!

We’ve made the most of all the different cuisines available to us, managing to fit in Vietnamese, Spanish tapas, dim sum and Italian – and sushi on the South Bank before Arthur’s first cinema experience.

There’s been other culture too – architecture and street art and busking. I’ve missed the vibrancy of London, the sense that there’s going to be something new and exciting to see every time you turn the corner.

We haven’t entirely avoided the shopping, though I suspect on the whole I’ve enjoyed that more than Arthur. But he’s valiantly offered to carry my bags. And we did brave Hamleys, which wasn’t actually as bad as I feared.

Arthur hasn’t got to play outside as much as he normally would, but we did have fun embracing autumn (and trees) in Hyde park, and found a brilliant play area yesterday where he could let off some steam.

Although we’ve really enjoyed each other’s company, there’s no doubt Arthur’s missed his daddy too. He’s kept up with him through photos and hilariously surreal conversations on the iPad.

It hasn’t been quite the same though, and Arthur was very excited when he got to see him in the flesh last night. We both were.

We’ve got one more day in London, and by tomorrow I think we’ll be more than ready to head home. There’s lots to love about the buzz of the big city, but I’m very much looking forward to seeing the sea.

X is for Xampanyet

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A tiny tapas bar in the Born area of Barcelona, near the Picasso museum: a little slice of history where locals and tourists alike gather to soak up the atmosphere, the food and the cava.

It’s never easy to get a table, but once you do, shuffling along benches and perching on stools to squeeze everyone in, you’re always in for a treat. From the ubiquitous pan con tomate to plates piled high with melt-in-the-mouth ham, from little red peppers stuffed with cheese to fresh and vinegary anchovies. We always eat too much, and it always costs a fraction of what we think it will. And it’s always washed down with copious amounts of house cava – served in vintage saucers and strangely refreshing despite being a little too sweet.

As I’m writing this I realise I haven’t actually been there for ages. For a while, after one of my best friends relocated out there with her family, Barcelona became my second home. But then I moved out of London, and Arthur came along, and suddenly popping over for the weekend became somewhat more challenging. We did make it back to the city this summer, but like many places in Barcelona this little tapas bar was closed for the holidays. I guess I’ll just need to book another trip to savour its flavours again.

X is for Xampanyet.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

London leaves

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I love where I live, but as autumn encircles the UK I’ve felt a little envious of people further North. We’ve had hints of orange in our leaves, and they’re beginning to desert their branches for the ground, but all in all it’s a pretty poor show in comparison to the explosions of colour I’ve seen in photos from elsewhere.

I remember last year still being surrounded by green whilst rust coloured leaves fluttered across my Facebook feed, and we did get our turn eventually – fiery foliage hanging on long after other trees had turned to winter skeletons.

So I know that autumn will embrace Torbay eventually, but in the meantime I figured I should take advantage of our week in London to show Arthur what all the fuss is about.

It was this tree that caught my eye first, defiantly resplendent in yellow, despite being flanked in green. Arthur ran smiling across the mottled grass, picking up leaves to examine more closely along the way.

At one point he declared he wanted to climb a tree – I think he was inspired by the squirrels. I was impressed by his determination as he tried to work out how he could get purchase on the trunk, but actually in the end a hug seemed much more appropriate.

We continued on across the park, entranced by the increasingly rich pallet of colours surrounding us.

They are beautiful, those lovely London leaves. And an injection of colour was just what my autumn needed.

V is for Vietnam

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For our honeymoon we went to Vietnam. It was a challenge fitting even a fraction of what I wanted to see there into those two weeks, but I was determined to try.

We started in Hanoi, spending two days walking around the city, soaking up the sights and smells and flavours. That was where I took this picture: just another selection of wares in a pavement stall, but one that with its seafood and herbs and vegetables sums up what I love about Vietnamese food. I love the colours and textures in this picture too, and the shapes – all those circles full of promise.

So much of our trip was about the food, really. That was what had inspired us to go in the first place – the pho and the summer rolls and the banh cuon we’d enjoyed in restaurants in Hackney. We had a Vietnamese supermarket near us there too, but it was wonderful to see all of the ingredients in their homeland.

By the time we left, we’d sampled all sorts of new dishes, successfully dodging the peanuts that would have triggered an allergic reaction to discover a huge range of exciting tastes. We’d seen noodles being made, rice paper rounds drying in the sun, prawns being crushed to create the pungent paste that was seemingly at the base of everything. We’d learnt to cook some new dishes as well: spicy seafood hotpot, and even those delicious banh cuon – delicate and slippery steamed rolls filled with prawns and pork.

I’d love to go back, and not just for the food. It is such a beautiful country – and so steeped in history. Hopefully one day, when Arthur’s a little bit older, we’ll be able to revisit for a longer trip.

V is for Vietnam.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODCast Dove.

T is for toll bridge

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There’s always a sense of anticipation that builds the closer we get to the border. It was the same when we used to travel from London as it is coming up from Devon, though the view from the M5 definitely makes for a more beautiful journey.

Nothing quite prepares you for the sight of the bridge itself though, the gateway to Cymru. The hulking pylons stand firm as cars speed through, contrasting perfectly with the delicate cables which soar diagonally to their tapering peaks. The pale green is always surprising, as stunning against thick grey clouds as it is when framed by a clear blue sky.

I must have hundreds of photos like the one above – I can’t resist, have to get my camera out every time we make the crossing into the land of my fathers. Very rarely on the journey back though. It doesn’t seem like such an event, somehow.

I’ve always thought it was apt that you pay the toll as you go into Wales rather than when you leave. I’m not sure anyone would bother otherwise – it just wouldn’t be worth it.

T is for toll bridge.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

P is for pho

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Often people ask me what I miss most about not living in London any more, and the answer’s always the same. There’s the people we left behind of course, but actually in some ways the physical distance between us now means that we make more effort to see the people who really matter. It’s amazing how knowing someone’s only half an hour away can turn into an excuse not to see them yet the opposite becomes true when meeting up’s a real mission.

But I digress. The thing I really miss about not living in London any more is the food. It’s not like there’s not good food in Devon: the potential for really fresh, really local ingredients is of course much higher than in the city. But without the melting pot of cultures that I used to feel privileged to be a part of, our menu is much more limited.

Where we used to live in London we were surrounded by fantastic Vietnamese restaurants. There was a big Turkish community too, so the kebabs were out of this world. Not to mention the Punjabi lamb chops at Tayyabs, the Sunday dim sum at Yi Ban, the Argentinian steak at Buen Ayre and the special-occassion sushi at Soseki.

It’s Vietnamese food I always seek out first when we go back though. There’s something about the fresh herbs, the slippery noodles, the seafood. And I especially love pho. It’s like the best sort of comfort food, warming and flavourful and healthy. I miss the ritual of the little plate of basil and bean sprouts and chilli, alternating spoons of broth with digging around with chopsticks for more substantial morsels of deliciousness.

When we were on honeymoon in Vietnam I had it for breakfast every day. We’ve tried to recreate it ourselves to varying degrees of success, but without the authentic ingredients it’s never quite the same. The bowl above was devoured moments after the photo was taken in Tre Viet, a restaurant I’d heartily recommend if ever you find yourself hungry on Mare Street.

P is for pho.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

Brmm brmm baby

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Last night was our last night in Barcelona. And as well as saying goodbye to our wonderful friends who we see far too rarely for my liking, Arthur had to say goodbye to his favourite new toy.

Every time we went over to our friends’ house Arthur would gravitate towards the girls’ toy pram and baby Clara. He liked to give her cuddles, but also I think the pram was an extension of his growing love of anything with wheels – cars, buses, tractors, motorbikes. Accordingly he christened her the brmm brmm baby.

Arthur spent hours pushing her around the living room and terrace, his evident delight both adorable and more than a little bit amusing. He doesn’t have any dolls yet: I’ve been thinking about making him one, and may need to make that a priority now we’re home. I’d like to encourage this nurturing instinct he’s developing, and it would definitely help focus the imaginative play he’s increasingly leaning towards. I guess I’ll need to give him the option of a pram as well as a sling to transport his baby too!

There were lots of brilliant things about this week – standby for a longer post about exploring Barcelona with a toddler – but one of the best bits was watching him play with the two little girls who, through their mum, were really my first introduction to motherhood. They were remarkably patient with him, and very good at sharing their toys – especially the brmm brmm baby.