Tag Archives: summer

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“A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

Such an perfect week away with this little man: almost every second spent outdoors, exploring and playing and learning and socialising.

And in between it all quiet moments like this where I savoured him looking so self-assured, so content.

Love summer, love our campervan, and cannot wait for our next adventure.

 

Linking up with Jodi at Practising Simplicity for The 52 Project. 

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“A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

Awesome weekend of celebrating in our household, with this little dude being fantastic company and absolutely loving making daddy feel like a superhero.

Summer has officially begun.

Linking up with Jodi at Practising Simplicity for The 52 Project. 

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“A portrait of my child, once a week, every week, in 2016.”

This week, fuelled by sunshine and jet lag, we have mainly been getting the house ready for summer.

As part of this, on Sunday morning, we went to our local garden centre. Arthur was lured along enthusiastically by the promise of a visit to their play area, and was initially a little put out when we couldn’t go there STRAIGHT AWAY.

Actually, though, I think he surprised himself by how much he enjoyed looking at flowers. When we walked out to the back, basking in proper summer sun, he exclaimed “It’s so beautiful!”. And it really was. We meandered between the rows and through the poly-tunnels, picking up things that looked pretty and not too easy to kill.

Arthur was tremendously careful with the trays he was given to carry, and loved being part of our little garden project almost as much as he loved being let loose on the climbing frame when we were done.

And now, after a couple of hours of planting, we have a garden resplendent with colourful troughs. Arthur disappeared off around the corner this morning, and when I asked where he was going he said he just wanted to look at the flowers.

Now I just need to remember to keep them watered and fed…

Linking up with Jodi at Practising Simplicity for The 52 Project. 

Festivals in the rain

We have been to three festivals this summer, and all of them were accompanied by a generous dose of rain. It’s been a bit of a new experience for me – somehow, in my twenty years of festivalling, I have managed to avoid anything more than a few showers. In fact generally my festival memories exist in a blissful haze of summer sun, dry grass and being a bit too warm for comfort. Clearly that was never going to last.

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I was a bit apprehensive as the weather forecast for the key weekends of this summer unfolded. I love festivals. Really I don’t think there is anywhere I would rather be than in a field with friends listening to music and drinking cider, stumbling upon weird and wonderful happenings as the days roll into nights and collapsing in a tent at the end of it all. Rain, mud and cold have absolutely no place in this vision, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to cope.

You know what though? It really wasn’t that bad. It was harder work for sure. And a bit less sociable. But there was something quite pleasingly symbolic about the perseverance, about the determination to have fun despite the universe’s best efforts. There was definitely a strong sense of camaraderie, and those moments where the sun peeped through the clouds or when music managed to whip damp crowds into a whirl of enthusiasm took on a whole new level of significance.

Sure, I wouldn’t have voluntarily trekked through miles of mud wearing an overexcited toddler or chased a flyaway gazebo through the campsite at four in the morning. I would rather not have covered my sparkly festival attire with waterproofs or kept said toddler entertained in the tent whilst the rain battered down outside. But actually, now that it’s over, I have a whole new range of festival memories to add to the pile.

And as for the toddler – to be honest he was in his element. What two year old wouldn’t want to splash through endless puddles, squelch in the mud and surf on rain soaked tables? In fact there’s a danger next summer, when the sun does return (are you listening, universe?), that there will be something fundamental missing from his festival experience…

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I’m sure he’ll cope though. And even if future festivals are drenched in rain rather than the sun I’ve bathed in over the years it’s good to know it won’t dampen our festival spirit.

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Dear daddy

It’s so good to have you to myself again. I know you’ve been busy, making people’s ouchies better in the hospital. I know you’ve been working hard.

But I’ve missed you.

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Life is so much more fun when you’re around.

I love going on adventures with you and mummy – I asked her where you were, every time, when we set out on our own. We had lots of good times together just the two of us, but it’s even better when you can come too.

Your shoulders are broader, and your hair doesn’t tickle so much.

I always got so excited when I saw your car pull into the drive: clamouring against the window, nose pressed to the glass as it misted up with my giggles. You would come right up and put your nose against mine and draw love in the cloud of our breath. When you disappeared again I would worry for a moment, but then I would hear your key in the lock and run as fast as I could for cuddles in the kitchen.

Thank you for always having time for me, even when you had been up since before dawn and had been ground down by mean consultants and endless traffic. Thank you for not even waiting to take off your coat before kneeling down to play train tracks, for finding the patience to do washing things before bed even when you would rather be having a glass of wine and collapsing on the sofa. Thank you for making me laugh and reading me stories until we both fell asleep in the chair.

I love it when you read with me.

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Thank you for the tickles and the Gruffalo cuddles and the prickle kisses.

Thank you for making mummy smile.

I know that sometimes I am hard work with my throwing and my hitting and my frustration at the world. But every time you listen to me it helps me begin to work it out, and every time you hold me it helps me remember how much I am loved.

I love you too, daddy.

Thank you for being.