Category Archives: Uncategorized

Word of the Week: Play

20140726-163857-59937518.jpg

One of the loveliest things about the stage Arthur is at at the moment is how completely he is embracing play. He will often wake up in the morning and, once he’s orientated himself and had his milk and cuddles declare his desire to ‘walk, play!’ repeatedly until we help him down from the bed.

He calls out from the highchair too, and sometimes from the sling: ‘walk, play! Walk, play! Walk, play!’

I love that he is articulating that need to move and explore, to actively engage in the serious business of playing that is going to be so important in the next few years of his development. It gives me a real thrill to watch the beginnings of make believe, to watch him creating his own world out of the things that are around him.

Of course if there are other children around to play with that’s even better. Grown ups are good sometimes too, but Arthur is beginning to make a distinction between the worlds we inhabit and more often than not is drawn to the vitality and creativity of those who have not yet felt the straightjacket of adulthood.

At the festival we were at last weekend it was wonderful to see him running around with my cousin’s kids and their neighbours. He was a little forlorn without them when we got home, but the arrival of his cousins from London soon distracted him!

20140726-164521-60321361.jpg

He has spent the week playing in the garden, determined to ride his new dumper truck and keep up with the pace of his older playmates.

20140726-164552-60352310.jpg

There’s been pool and beach fun too – we literally couldn’t have picked a better week to share the joys of living on the English Riviera!

20140726-164856-60536860.jpg

20140726-165031-60631219.jpg

20140726-165118-60678971.jpg

Arthur’s back on his own again now, and whilst I’ve caught him looking around for his absent playmates he hasn’t let it get to him too much. He constantly amazes me with his ability to entertain himself, to enter into the spirit of play whatever his circumstances and surroundings.

I guess that’s what makes childhood so special, really. And it is my pledge to you, Arthur, to give you as many opportunities to play as I can possibly muster.

 

The Reading Residence

 

K is for kite

IMG_0226

Boxing day, 2013. Leigh had been given a kite for Christmas, and as we headed to the beach to walk off the indulgence of the day before there was a palpable sense of excitement. The day was crisp and cold and bright: for a British winter it could hardly have been bettered. The wind was strong, but as it happened that was just what we wanted.

Arthur was nuzzled up in the sling, still computing the craziness of his first Christmas season and, not that he knew it, waiting to experience his first birthday two days later. It was the adults though who were rapt with the simple pleasure of a kite flying high in the December sky.

We each had a go, nonchalant at first, trying to conceal our nervousness and anticipation. But as the wind caught the fabric that our hands controlled we in turn were caught by a childlike joy. Those of us who were not physically attached to its pulls and turns found ourselves mimicking the twists and grins of the one who was, unable to tear our eyes away and united in our quest to maintain its flight for as long as possible.

K is for kite.

 

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast. 

Word of the Week: Swimming

IMG_5147

This week was a pretty momentous week for my little water baby: with the help of his float suit he had his first experience of swimming freely – and he loved it!

We spent a couple of days at my parents’ house, enjoying the peace and quiet after the crazy brilliance of their party. We were keen to make the most of their pool, and specifically to try out the float suit we’d ordered from Splash About.

We’d tried it out a couple of times when we were in Cyprus, but he was a little little for it then. It fits him much better now, though it still took a bit of getting used to. In our first session he was happy to hold on to the bars at the side of the pool, enjoying the novelty of not being supported by us but floundering a bit when we encouraged him to move away from the side.

IMG_5071

And then the next day he amazed us by letting go, finding his balance, and actually beginning to move through the water.

IMG_5440

We’re working on getting his legs kicking and paddling with his hands now, and he seems to be picking it up incredibly quickly. He even had a go in the sea when we were back in Brixham: the float suit seems to be working so well that we’ve invested in a little neoprene float jacket too for the colder water.

IMG_3144

It’ll obviously be a little while before he’s able to swim without all the extra buoyancy, but it’s a pretty impressive start! I’m not sure who’s more excited by his new found skill to be honest – Arthur is clearly thrilled with himself, but I am one proud mummy.

 

The Reading Residence

J is for journey

journey

I love to travel. Partly, of course, it’s about exploring new places: the sights, the smells, the buzz of being somewhere different. But to borrow from a cliche the journey itself is at least as important as the destination.

I like to travel slowly when I can: on foot, by train, by boat. Anything that will let me appreciate the landscapes that I’m passing through, that will give me a sense of distance and time.

The moment above was captured by Leigh in the middle of our first big adventure as a family, and actually in the middle of a journey within a journey – one of many on that trip.

We were in New York, and left our hotel in the meatpacking district in the morning with a vague idea that we would walk to the children’s museum in Brooklyn. It looked a fairly long way on the map, but we figured we weren’t in any rush. And a good thing too – in between getting lost and voluntarily taking scenic detours we were on our feet for about eight hours. Most of that time we weren’t anywhere particularly significant, but that really didn’t matter. We made it to the museum, giving Arthur a baby-friendly pitstop where he actually crawled for the first time. The rest of the time he was in the sling, sleeping or feeding or just looking around.

It’s always hard with cities to know how to get the measure of them, but I’ve found that just wandering is a pretty good way to start.

There’s a lesson for life in there somewhere too I reckon. Not to stay still for too long, to keep meandering, even if you feel aimless, because only then do you stand a chance of coming across the thing that will give you direction. To appreciate what you find along the way, too – not just focus blindly on your destination, on the things you think you’re going to find, because it’s often in the unexpected that the magic lies.

J is for journey.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

Why anyone has to be better than Gove

gove tombstone

When I heard the news on the radio this morning I felt my spirit lighten: after all of the heartbreak he has caused as he dismantled our education system brick by brick, Gove was being removed as education secretary. Finally it appeared that teachers, parents, children and educationalists up and down the country were being listened to: we had roared ‘Gove must go’ until we were hoarse, and now our pleas had been answered.

Of course I am not naive enough to think that placating the victims of Gove’s reforms was Cameron’s motivation. I cannot allow myself to hope that now that he has been replaced the misguided direction of the Tory education policy will change significantly. I’m trying to avoid finding out too much about his successor, Nicky Morgan: I’d rather spend just one day in blissful ignorance. From what has seeped into my twitter feed I gather that her politics are at least as unsavoury as Gove’s, but then given her political allegiance that’s not entirely surprising.

The thing is it was not just his politics that made me so angry whenever Gove opened his mouth to say something about education. In fact the political stance he was taking was generally the least of my worries – after all, there were so many other things to be angry about.

There was the way he completely disregarded the professional opinion of people who had devoted their lives to education, presuming that his own experience of school could over-ride decades of evidence-based research.

Worse, there was his coining of the term ‘the blob’ for those who disagreed with his reforms – the sneering condescension with which he dismissed their concerns about the impact those reforms might have on young people.

There was the exploitation of those young people for photo opportunities to try to disguise the archaic nature of his mission with a vulgar attempt to get down with the kids.

The total failure to acknowledge the impact his race to lead the world might have on the mental health of young people and their teachers – along with his buddy Wilshaw he seemed determined to wear down all of the stakeholders in the education system, deciding that misery was a mark of success.

Another thing that made me furious was the way new policies appeared to have been scribbled on the back of a cigar box after one too many glasses of claret at a dinner party. Dropped on to breakfast tables with the Sunday papers they often bore more than a whiff of the public school education of his peers, and very rarely stood up to tight scrutiny in the cold light of day.

There was also, of course, the way he held up the private sector as the pinnacle of education, blithely ignoring all of the other factors that influenced the success of its alumni to wrongly presume that these fee-paying schools were fundamentally doing everything better than their state-funded equivalents, that within their ivy-clad walls and manicured lawns was the cure for all the maladies of the education system.

At the core of all this was the way Gove completely ignored the truth wherever it got in the way of his vision. He took this to ridiculous lengths – if rumours are to be believed he rewrote syllabi for English and History GCSEs, an absurd arrogance and grossly overstepping his role as education secretary.

There is so much more I could add to this list, but I can feel my blood beginning to boil just remembering all of the injustices served to our nation’s young people by that man. I am however finding great solace in the repetition of the phrase ‘there was’. He is now in the past, at least as far as our education system is concerned, and hopefully schools and teachers and students and everyone with their best interests at heart can begin the slow process of recovery from the damage he has done to their sense of worth.

There is much for Nicky Morgan to consider as she steps into this role, but there is one key thing I would ask of her: to listen. To recognise how much people care, and how much they know. To rebuild the bridges between the policy makers and the professionals, so that together we can work to carve out a better future for our children.

 

Word of the Week: Offline

Last weekend, my family held a party. Not just any little party: 400 people descended on my parents’ home in the South Hams, with about 200 of them camping. It was spectacularly fun, but as you can probably imagine it took just a little bit of organising. There were ten of us in the organising committee – my parents, me and Leigh, my three brothers and their partners. Emails have been flying between us for months to make sure everything was in place, but still as the weekend approached there was lots that had to be done on the ground.

We moved over there a few days before to help set up – in the house for a couple of days then migrating to our bell tent as other guests arrived. I had a few moments of rising panic as I realised I was never going to manage to keep up with the blog as well as everything else – internet access was sporadic, and there just wasn’t any spare time! And then I paused, took a breath, and reminded myself that this is my blog, and I’m writing on my terms. The world wouldn’t fall apart if I didn’t post for a while, and people wouldn’t hold it against me if I missed a few linkies.

So for a while I focused on just living life instead of documenting it (I only just managed to remember to take a few photos…) But now that things are getting back to normal I thought you might like to know what we’ve been up to!

We had a bit of a mission making sure the camping area was all set up and ready for people to arrive, and were glad for the sunshine as we traipsed up the hills and through the woodland, Arthur in the sling or running free.

IMG_4837

IMG_4887

We set up our little camp down by the estuary, and Arthur got very excited about the new house we were building.

IMG_4948

IMG_4964

He had so much fun playing in the open air – the weather was perfect, and a sense of magic began to pervade the air.

IMG_1691

We set up a kids activity tent (our priorities for camping parties are a little different than they used to be…) where everyone got throughly covered in glitter.

IMG_2144

 

IMG_2124

By Saturday evening, we were well and truly ready to party. The tutus came out, the wings went on, and anticipation was building.

IMG_1690

Arthur seemed to love his costume, and was in his element with so many other people to play with!

IMG_4996

He was most excited when the music started though. In fact I think everyone was – my brother had managed to get the awesome Rubblebucket to come and party with us. Their set was amazing, and it was more than a little bit surreal watching the scene unfold in my parents’ courtyard.

IMG_5033

The festivities continued well into the night, and the next day we had Arthur’s naming ceremony, a delicious spread of Sri Lankan curry, and lots more chatting and playing and catching up.

Come Sunday evening, those of us who remained were exhausted but happy, and we had a lovely few hours chilling down by the tents.

IMG_2295

IMG_2282

Arthur was truly in his element with so many people to talk to and play with, and it was truly lovely for us to have some quality time to hang out with friends we don’t get to see so often any more.

I think after six months of increasingly intense blogging with all its associated social media exploits I really needed a bit of a break where my only communication device was a walkie talkie. I have a feeling there might be a few more spells like that this summer too – after all, if real life wants to get in the way of the internet for a while I’d be churlish to stop it.

 

 The Reading Residence

Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall

I is for identity

image

On Sunday morning, in the middle of a weekend-long party at my parents’ house, we held a little naming ceremony for Arthur. It wasn’t the focus of the weekend, but so many of our friends and family were there that it seemed like the perfect opportunity. This picture was taken at the end of the ceremony, just as people were beginning to dissipate. Arthur, who was brilliant throughout, had found a quiet spot to sit and strum his ukulele.

Everything was so hastily organised that it passed in a bit of a blur of adrenalin, but I was so glad we’d managed to pull it together. Both my and Leigh’s parents were there, all of our siblings, even my 96 year old Grampa. Lots of our extended family were there too, as well as friends from all stages of our lives. We made promises and read poems, joined by the words of the three people we have chosen as Oddparents to help us inspire our son and hold his hand on his journey. The ceremony closed with a group rendition of ‘All You Need is Love’ led by the awesome Rubblebucket. We sang it at our wedding, and it also happens to be one of Arthur’s favourite songs.

The whole occasion was a fantastic opportunity to reflect on the people and the values that are important to us, to celebrate all that Arthur is so far and to sow the seeds of his identity that will grow as he does and no doubt continue to surprise and amaze us every day.

We chose a humanist ceremony, conducted by a lovely local celebrant. Neither Leigh or I have ever been particularly religious, and humanism gives something positive to identify our values by rather than just a negation of the alternatives. We had a humanist wedding at my parents’ home too, and it seemed the perfect choice to formally welcome Arthur into the world.

That little courtyard was filled with so much love and laughter and inspiration that morning. All things that I hope will remain at the core of Arthur’s identity as he grows from a baby into a boy into a man.

 

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

H is for Hackney

image

Whenever the sun peeps through the clouds overhead, people begin to spill out onto London Fields: with their bikes, their beer, their barbecues, heading for the lido or taking a moment to sit and rest after a night spent partying.

That was me once: staking out my tiny plot of grass, watching as the park filled with a teeming mass of life. I remember hula hooping in the sunset, leaning back on a lion to catch some rays; picking out a picnic in the Saturday market, laughing off a hangover with whoever happened to be passing by that day.

It’s hard to imagine any spot in Devon getting quite so crowded. When we first moved out of London I found its emptiness so exhilarating, and the thought of my friends jostling for their space in the sunshine made me feel slightly sad.

But there’s no doubting that Hackney is exhilarating too. I love the new world I’ve discovered out of London, but being back there reminds me of a whole other pace of life, one with a richness that it’s hard to capture out in the sticks.

H is for Hackney.

 

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.