Some models are complete dogs...


And Amelie can now produce them at will, using nothing but her nimble fingers and an endless supply of hot air and rubber. It's been half-term this week, so she spent a few days with her grandparents', and whilst some families pass down wisdom through the generations in the form of esoteric knowledge and trade secrets, Amelie's acquired the skill of balloon modelling. It's been putting food on the Gardner family table for years.

Her absence has meant that I've been able to cover myself in glory (and blisters) by achieving my goal of building a set of bunk beds...

It's not so much a labour of love as a labour of Hercules, and the phrase 'never again' springs to mind. At one point I got trapped inside the frame and had to phone Lisa to come and rescue me. But having removed eight sacks of junk from the children's bedroom, moved a wardrobe, a bookcase and a chest of drawers, and thrown out a cupboard, two cabinets and a table, I finally reached the point where the kids could go to bed...

Although at the moment they're mostly using it for playing on my work iPad. And they're still mastering the concept of separate beds.

I've been supported through this endeavor by an eclectic mix of DVDs which I had playing on the kids' portable TV while I worked. I followed Taxi to the Dark Side with the complete box set of Gimme Gimme Gimme, so frankly it's been torture all the way.

Understandably, all of this has taken a considerable toll on both my physical and mental health...

So I could do with a holiday now. Unfortunately I'm back to work tomorrow. But the important thing is that the children can relax...

Not that Toby ever had a problem...

And to be honest, he needed a lie-down after being scared witless by a dinosaur...

Interestingly, Toby's terrified-by-a-prehistoric-killer look is a lot like his watching-3D-TV pose...

He has the permanent look of a Thunderbirds puppet.

As for Lisa, she's coped well with the trials and tribulations of having a husband attempting DIY for a week, but I put that down entirely to the Valentine's gift I gave her. She's been reading a lot about the theraputic aspects of art, and the calming effect that painting can have on the mind, body and soul. Naturally she can't draw to save her life, and I felt that painting-by-numbers might be a step too far, so I bought her a colouring book. It was either that or Fuzzy Felt, and that's harder to stick on the fridge.

It's a bigamist's nightmare: a card from the wife, but no clue as to which one...

It's true, I have got surprises planned for later. I'm planning to go out and buy myself a new printer. Lisa has no idea. I don't actually need a new printer, but the ink's run out on the old one, and I can't be bothered to find out what cartridges I need.

Anyhoo, it might take two to tango on Valentine's Day, but it only takes one to do the freestyle...

The small print at the bottom states that "THIS CERTIFICATE DOES NOT PERMIT THE BEARER TO TEACH", although it does allow her to boss people around against their will. But contrary to (her own) popular opinion, Amelie's not a qualified dance instructor. She is, however, the proud owner of a turquoise rosette, which is almost certainly the highest and most prestigious award available to six-year-olds in the field of professional dancing. And if you're wondering what kind of intricate steps one has to master to achieve this accolade, here's your answer...


It's not strictly ballroom, but the good thing about Freestyle is that you can basically do what you like. And the reason you can see her stomach is because she's tall for her age, not because she's morbidly obese. No, really.

Anyhoo, while I attempt to solve the puzzle of who knocked Amelie's jigsaw on the floor...

... the good news is that the bunk beds have arrived...

So if I want to leave the flat, I either have to put them together, or lose three stone. The latter might be quicker and easier, but I could do with a lie down, so I'm planning to attempt the former.

Amelie's on her high horse again...

Yes, after just one hour-long lesson at The Three Greys Riding School last weekend, Amelie's been transformed into a cross between National Velvet and Lester Piggott. That's her coach in the background. The thoroughbred stallion she's riding is called Arundel, which was pleasing news, as she assumed it had been named after the kingdom in Frozen.

We had a voucher for a one-off, half-price lesson, and we're not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so we had breakfast on the hoof and trotted off to the neighbouring village of Pyecombe last Sunday morning. It was an eye-opening experience for Toby, who discovered that horses aren't quite as big as he thought they were...

We could have paid extra for Toby to ride a Shetland pony, but frankly he struggles to stay on a swing, so I thought it best not to involve animals in his list of potential rides. Amelie, on the other hand, was a complete natural, and was soon cantering around the paddock like Harvey Smith without the V signs...


Having witnessed the skillful way she pressed the accelerator pedal by kicking her horse in the ribs, the instructor realised she was some kind of horse-whispering Equus-type figure, and before long, she was the only one allowed to ride around unescorted...

Admittedly, she had the occasional problem with steering, and ended up in the middle of the paddock a couple of times, but having proved her ability on the training ground, she was soon leading her horse to water by heading out onto the South Downs, past a couple of flooded fields...

She was driving one-handed by that point. It'll be bareback and no hands next time.

Of course, if her father has his way, there won't be a next time. I'm not paying thirty pounds a week to freeze my extremities in a manure-covered yard on a muddy hillside. So I'm saying no. Admittedly, I might be shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted, as Amelie loved it, and would happily go back daily, but I'm hoping to distract her with something cheaper. Like the washing up.

But one activity that I am happy to invest my time and money in is in eating out. So having reached the point where we could no longer feel our fingers, we headed down the hill for Sunday lunch at The Plough...

One thing I've learnt, however, is that a Gardner Family Fun Day doesn't end at lunchtime. It ends when everyone's lost the will to live. Which is usually early afternoon. So with lunch over, we ventured back out into the big freeze, and headed to Peacehaven beach for a bit of fossil hunting...

Despite Amelie's insistence on lining up her prehistoric finds on a bit of driftwood, those aren't actually old fossils. Although there are a couple in this picture...

If you think Toby looks wet, you'd be right. He'd just been soaked by a wave breaking over the sea wall. It was like the log flume ride at Thorpe Park, only cheaper, and quite a bit funnier. It put Lisa in a good mood for the rest of the day. I'm tempted to take him back there this afternoon so I can get it on film...