tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34099732024-03-13T16:19:30.542+00:00Mulled WhinesSniggers With AttitudePhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.comBlogger3251125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-13183607200652787012016-08-10T10:48:00.002+01:002016-08-10T10:48:18.054+01:00The big mouth, the rows of sharp teeth, those small beady eyes and that menacing expression... it can mean only one thing...<br />
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It's me on holiday! I like to be a bit menacing in the hope of keeping the kids in line, although as a general rule they just ignore me and do what they like. I blame Lisa.<br />
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Anyhoo, the main achievement of my last four years on the planet has been my successful raising of a dinosaur. Toby is fluent in more than a dozen distinct dialects not used since the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods, can name a dinosaur for every letter of the alphabet, and is able to distinguish between a carcharodontosaurus and a pachycephalosaurus from a distance of half a mile. He's also the only member of this family that can pronounce them.<br />
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So what better place to take him than the <a href="http://www.showcaves.co.uk/" target="_blank">Dan-Yr-Ogof National Showcaves Centre for Wales</a>. It might not sound much like Jurassic Park, but what you don't know is that Dan-Yr-Ogof is Welsh for Dinosaur. I think. Either way, it enabled Toby to survey his kingdom like a young John Hammond...<br />
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And take the mickey out of a triceratops...<br />
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That's pretty much the only photo I have of Toby posing with a dinosaur. He was so busy studying them like a dedicated paleontologist on a field trip that he refused to waste his time by smiling for the camera. As a result, I have a lot of photos of the back of his head.<br />
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Amelie gave me no such problems...<br />
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And I was no shrinking violet either...<br />
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Let's face it, if you can't pretend to be licked by a torosaurus when you're on holiday, when can you?<br />
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Of course, dinosaurs are all very well, but if you're going to call yourself the National Showcaves Centre for Wales, you need to have a bit of underground action too. And it didn't disappoint...<br />
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The Dan-Yr-Ogof Cave and the Cathedral Cave were both excellent. If a little chilly. And wet. In the case of the Cathedral Cave, you basically have to walk through a waterfall in the dark. It was like <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2013/01/if-theres-one-thing-ive-learnt-from-my.html" target="_blank">The Great Flood of 2013</a> all over again. But it was all worth it, and the caves were a surprising hit with the kids. And not just on their heads from the low ceilings.<br />
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As an additional bonus, the lighting conditions really brought out the dust spots on my camera lens...<br />
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The intriguingly named Bone Cave was a bit of a disappointment, and involved the obligatory use of hard hats...<br />
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... mainly, I think, because there'd been some kind of mix-up between inches and centimetres when building the walkway up to the entrance, and they'd erected the ceiling at hobbit height. You basically have to limbo-dance your way up the hillside. Ironically, the one member of the family who would have been fine was Toby, and he decided he didn't want to go in. He must have been reading TripAdvisor, as he really didn't miss much. The other two caves were far superior.<br />
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Personally, my favourite part was the lost valley of dinosaurs, which was so lost, we almost didn't find it. It led down to a beautiful waterfall...<br />
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... and enabled us to play Where's Wally. Firstly with Lisa and Toby...<br />
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... and then with me...<br />
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We never did find Amelie.<br />
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At the gift shop, I told Toby he could have any three of the small plastic dinosaurs, so he chose three identical velociraptors on the grounds that <i>"they hunt in packs, so I need three"</i>. They're already plotting the downfall of his stegosaurus.<br />
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Before leaving, Toby and Lisa proved their ability to blend into the background whilst hugging a brachiosaurus...<br />
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... and we made our way back to the car park, pausing briefly to chase a sheep...<br />
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Ten minutes later, Toby had fed it to the T-Rex.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-62088660126848074232016-08-07T10:56:00.003+01:002016-08-07T11:10:29.731+01:00The downside of holidaying in another country is the inevitable risk of stomach problems due to the local food. I'm not the most experienced traveller, so I decided to give the laverbread a miss yesterday, and instead played it safe with a jumbo battered sausage and chips, half of Amelie's fish & chips, two large ice creams (with flakes) and two bars of chocolate. But despite my admirable caution, I felt inexplicably sick all night, and still feel a little delicate this morning. I'm putting it down to sheer bad luck.<br />
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But before being struck down by the cruel mistress of ill health, we'd actually had a nice day yesterday. We spent it on the Gower Peninsula, which I like to think of as the tongue of the Welsh pig...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpmJplsfmTusP0SI9CgTrSplQ4eApiR84gwu7bTEAtX0i2myEkXGDTshZ7HhmL_VGm7Zaqw7eO5xpnno58bsXuPr6KbSXNe3p7AiuK_25hoCWf-ChCVLI7fZKx5VcvDeLcSrSfg/s1600/pig+tongue.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 2em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpmJplsfmTusP0SI9CgTrSplQ4eApiR84gwu7bTEAtX0i2myEkXGDTshZ7HhmL_VGm7Zaqw7eO5xpnno58bsXuPr6KbSXNe3p7AiuK_25hoCWf-ChCVLI7fZKx5VcvDeLcSrSfg/s300/pig+tongue.png" /></a></div>That's Rhossili Bay, on the tip of that tongue. It's basically the spot where you'd get an ulcer after eating too many sweets. Or maybe that's just me.<br />
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As a location, it suffers a bit from the lack of an escalator between the car park and the beach, and ideally they'd airlift an ice cream van onto the sands, to save you the trek back up the cliff, but that aside, it's really very nice. Especially if you can persuade Lisa to carry the beach mats.<br />
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Brighton beach at this time of year looks a lot like this...<br />
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But interestingly, Rhossili Bay on the first Saturday in August seemed a lot quieter...<br />
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At least until Amelie and Toby arrived. Here's Toby shovelling sand into his mouth with a spade while Lisa tops up her skin cancer...<br />
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I tried to get Amelie to recreate a scene from Baywatch...<br />
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But whilst Toby was willing to run through the waves like David Hasselhoff, Amelie's Pamela Anderson seemed strangely distant...<br />
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On the subject of being strangely distant, Lisa and I decided to test our parenting skills by letting Amelie and Toby wander off on their own. They're in the photo below, dead centre, but invisible to the naked eye...<br />
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Although we could still hear Toby roaring. That's the furthest they've ever been from us on their own. Unless you count the time we lost Toby at the school fete. Frankly he could have been anywhere.<br />
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Anyhoo, a good time was had by all, and I decided that a deserted sandy beach is a lot better than a packed pebbly one. So why we're living in Brighton, I have no idea.<br />
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Before leaving, we just had time for Toby to model a beach mat...<br />
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And Amelie to do handstands...<br />
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Before heading back up the cliff path, for one last look at the bay...<br />
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It's a miracle there's any sand left on that beach. It feels like most of it's now in our car.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-53415019117124050142016-08-06T11:40:00.001+01:002016-08-06T11:45:53.100+01:00Since last putting finger to keyboard, Toby has turned four...<br />
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We've acquired a mean, dragon-slaying kitten...<br />
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And Lisa has defied the laws of physics with a pile of washing-up...<br />
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We've also sailed the seven seas and seen spectacular sights beyond anyone's imagination...<br />
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<center><iframe width="520" height="390" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-d_9Pes_6Lk?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></center><br />
So after all of that, we needed a holiday. Which is how we've wound up here...<br />
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We're currently staying in a remote log cabin at the foot a mountain, miles from the nearest town, where the locals speak some weird, incomprehensible language. I've seen at least fifteen horror films that start this way. Although, to be fair, most deranged slashers don't keep their lawns looking this neat...<br />
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Clearly it's the grass that gets slashed on a weekly basis, not the guests. Although if we do go missing, my car registration's above. If someone could pass that on to the police, I'd be grateful.<br />
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Anyhoo, we're currently somewhere between Bryncoch and Pontardawe, just south of the Brecon Beacons in Wales. I wanted to be within easy reach of both the beacons and the Gower Peninsula, so that we could make the most of the scorching early-August temperatures by spending time on some of Britain's most beautiful beaches and spectacular mountains. So as we speak, I'm in the middle of nowhere, looking at clouds with a jumper on.<br />
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By choosing this week to go on holiday, it means we're missing this year's Brighton Pride, although I was pleased to see lots of signs on the M4 yesterday directing us towards 'Cardiff Pride'. It was heartwarming to know that different parts of the country are organising similar events at the same time. Until I realised that the signs actually said 'Cardiff P+ride' and were directing us towards a car park.<br />
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But we arrived here in good time, to views such as this...<br />
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... and a sense of peace and solitude we'd never get in Brighton. Mainly because Amelie and Toby live there. The bad news is they've followed us here too...<br />
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They're currently running with a pack of wild dogs...<br />
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... but they seem to be loving it, so we're letting them enjoy their freedom while we catch up on 'Words With Friends' and enjoy some serious art appreciation. The log cabin is decorated with some fine original artworks, which make it seem like a home from home. Although most of ours are done in felt-tip on A4 paper.<br />
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The owner of this particular property, however, clearly doesn't share this family's love of dinosaurs and mermaids, and has instead decided that the perfect picture to place on the wall of a holiday cottage that caters to families with young children is this impressive work of art...<br />
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I expect it's his wife. They have to make their own entertainment around here.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-45620500671709586912016-05-30T12:37:00.000+01:002016-05-30T12:37:16.933+01:00Ken and Barbie, eat your heart out...<br />
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Admittedly, Ken and Barbie have been going steady for 55 years, whereas Lisa and I have only lasted for twelve, but given that we have to cope with two kids and we don't have a camper van, I think ours is the greater achievement.<br />
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It was on 29th May 2004 that I caught Lisa off guard and in a moment of madness she agreed to call herself my girlfriend. It took another six years to take the step up to wife. The photo above was taken in March 2005, and didn't feature in <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2005/03/brace-yourself-for-serious-interlude.html" target="_blank">the original blog post</a> due to Lisa being less than keen on having her photo appearing on the internet. She still feels the same today, but now we're married, she no longer gets a say. And besides, I only allow her half an hour of internet use a day. On condition that she's ironed my shirts.<br />
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Anyhoo, I've clearly lost a lot of hair in the past twelve years, due mainly to these two...<br />
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I'm not saying I'd push them onto the train tracks, but they can be a little wearing at times.<br />
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Friday was the last day of our holiday, and the weather forecast was for cloud in the morning and rain all afternoon, so having woken up late to the anticipated grey skies, we decided to cancel our plans to visit the Tamar Otter and Wildlife Centre, and head into Launceston with our coats on. At which point the sun came out...<br />
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Unlike the sun, Toby refused to come out for that photo, preferring instead to re-enact The Railway Children by threatening to run onto the train tracks whilst waving his underwear on a stick.<br />
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It turned out to be a warm, sunny afternoon, which only added to the enjoyment of our wet-weather activity at the <a href="http://www.launcestonsr.co.uk/" target="_blank">Launceston Steam Railway</a>...<br />
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I'm not much of a trainspotter (I prefer stamp collecting), but it was a charming experience with sweet little steam trains...<br />
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... and enthusiasts who clearly love what they do...<br />
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The train runs back and forth between Launceston and New Mills through pretty countryside, a journey of around two and a half miles...<br />
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In reality, it doesn't go <b>quite</b> as fast as that. Which is just as well, as it actually made me feel slightly travel sick. I'm more of a Pendolino man, if the truth be told. I couldn't even plug in my iPhone.<br />
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But despite that, it was all quite enjoyable. The tickets allow you to ride all day, so having done the return journey once, we headed into Launceston town centre for a spot of lunch...<br />
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Toby was busy reading a dinosaur book he bought in a charity shop, so he missed out on the healthy, balanced meal that we provided for Amelie. It had fruit and everything.<br />
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With lunch over, I insisted that we get our money's worth by riding the rails again, this time rejecting the Toastrack carriage in favour of the Torrington & Marland...<br />
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According to the railway's website, this one <i>"runs on bogies"</i>, so it was right up Toby's alley.<br />
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Friday evening was our last at Trewin Court, the holiday cottage we'd called home for the previous week. It was tinged with sadness, partly because our wonderful week of fun had come to an end, and we'd loved everything about the place, but mainly because we only found out on the last night that it had a freezer. The kitchen looks like this...<br />
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... so it's not until you open each wooden door that you know where everything is. The fridge and the washing machine essentially look the same. Which explains how Toby's pants ended up in the salad drawer. On arrival the previous Saturday, we'd found that one of the doors didn't open, so we assumed it was purely decorative and wasn't intended to be used. But on the Friday evening, twelve hours before departure, Amelie gave it an extra hard tug, and instead of breaking the handle as anticipated, the door swung open to reveal a full size freezer. I was gutted. I could have been eating ice cream all week.<br />
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But despite that tragedy, it was the perfect seven days. We bid a very fond farewell to Well Farm...<br />
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... and set off for home, stopping off briefly in Wiltshire to pay Big Sis a quick visit. We caught her between her nail appointment and her hair appointment, so her hands looked nice but her face was best avoided. It was nice to see her though.<br />
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So that's it. This blog's week-long resurrection is, in all probability, over for the time being, but it's been a fab week with a fab woman and our fab children. The next few months are likely to feature a few unpleasant challenges of the facial variety, but as I said to the dermatologist the week before last, <i>"Cancer, schmancer"</i>. Well, ok, I didn't. But I wanted to. We've faced plenty of disasters over the past 12 years (not all of them child-related), and we'll get through this little setback too.<br />
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I love you, Mrs Gardner. xxxPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-67329914989552161792016-05-27T11:29:00.003+01:002016-05-27T11:33:07.618+01:00David Attenborough, eat your heart out...<br />
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Admittedly, Sir David sat amongst a family of gorillas, whereas we just pointed at a group of meerkats and shouted <i>"Simples!"</i>, but that doesn't mean we weren't brave. They could have kicked sand in our faces at any time.<br />
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Anyhoo, our plan for yesterday had always been to go to The Eden Project. Thursday was supposed to be the day the rain came, and being only an hour north-east of Eden, it seemed like a good opportunity for Lisa to pick me an apple in paradise while we dodged the showers in and out of the biomes.<br />
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But in the tradition of last minute changes, I looked at the blue skies outside, looked at my children's history of loving animal parks, and - most important of all - looked at the £25 ticket price of The Eden Project, and decided that a day spent looking at plants probably wasn't the best thing for my family. We've got weeds on the balcony at home, and they can look at those for free any time they like.<br />
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So we went to <a href="http://www.newquayzoo.org.uk/" target="_blank">Newquay Zoo</a> instead...<br />
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We visited their sister zoo in Paignton <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2013/06/wednesday-was-day-sun-came-out.html" target="_blank">three years ago</a>, when we looked more like this...<br />
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In those days you could just wheel Toby into frame and click the shutter button. Now it's more of a challenge, where his presence in family photos is largely down to luck, perseverance and a willingness to endure tantrums.<br />
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But the good news is that we had a <b><i>lovely</i></b> time at Newquay Zoo. I'd read reviews on TripAdvisor which criticised it for being small, and claimed you could see it all in an hour or two. Well, it's possible my family are just sloths, but we were still there five minutes before closing time, and I don't think we saw every animal. Although we <b>did</b> see a sloth. The surroundings were beautiful, the staff were friendly, and the kids loved every minute. Apart from the minute we spent looking at the otters, which Amelie told me was <i>"boring"</i>. Mainly because she'd spotted the Tarzan Trail assault course, and was keen to move on.<br />
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Personally I loved the otters...<br />
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But my favourite animal was the lynx...<br />
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I <b><i>think</i></b> it's a vegetarian, but I could be wrong. I also liked the Bleeding Heart Pigeon...<br />
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It looks like it's been shot in the chest, but in reality it's suffered a far worse fate: it's been chased by Amelie and Toby...<br />
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We watched the lions being fed...<br />
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... which was fine until we found out they were eating Dartmoor Pony. That put a slightly different complexion on things. Apparently cows and pigs are too fatty, so they prefer My Little Pony.<br />
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We also posed for some delightful family portraits...<br />
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And we discovered that Amelie's the same height as a lion, while Toby's as tall as a lioness...<br />
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But the highlight of the day was feeding time. I had a bowl of cheesy chips in the café and an ice cream that was to die for, but the kids enjoyed it even more...<br />
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<center><iframe width="520" height="390" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MBgKI3F88Fw?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></center><br />
Those Visayan Warty Pigs are thought to be extinct in the wild, so it's the closest Toby's ever come to feeding a dinosaur.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-91803959678110965722016-05-26T08:51:00.001+01:002016-05-26T09:05:30.002+01:00King Arthur, eat your heart out...<br />
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Admittedly, King Arthur probably had pictures on those walls, carpet on the floor and Merlin conjouring up foie gras and stuffed peacock for lunch, whereas I had to make do with a day-old Cornish pasty and a fence to stop me falling off the cliff, but other than that, I had the authentic Arthurian experience yesterday. Except that he didn't exist.<br />
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As long established waterfall junkies (we've loved them since Sunday), our plan had been to stop off at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Nectan%27s_Kieve" target="_blank">St Nectan's Kieve</a> on our way to Tintagel yesterday. And stop off we did. For about thirty seconds. Which was the amount of time it took us to read the sign informing us that the waterfall was a one mile walk from the car park. After <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2016/05/bear-grylls-eat-your-heart-out.html" target="_blank">our experience at Lydford Gorge</a>, we decided not to risk another white water, white knuckle scramble, and instead pressed on to calm serenity and confident safety of Tintagel...<br />
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Yeah, they didn't warn us about those steps either. I should probably make better use of TripAdvisor. But like the true adventurers we are, Amelie and I made it to the top right corner of the castle ruins in the photo above, where I managed to calm my shaking hands long enough to take this picture...<br />
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Amelie wasn't the only one clinging on for dear life there, but whilst I was on the verge of crawling on my hands and knees just to cope with the acrophobia, Amelie did it mainly to peer through the castle walls...<br />
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It's odd - if someone told me to climb over that wall, I'd struggle to manage it, so I <b>know</b> I'm in no danger of accidentally toppling over, but despite that, I felt genuinely terrified every time I stepped within three feet of the edge. I expect that's normal for a man's man.<br />
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Anyhoo, it wasn't all an uphill struggle. Upon arrival, we actually headed <b>down</b> the first flight of steps to the cove below Tintagel Castle...<br />
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Well, I say 'we'. If you enlarge the photo below, you might just notice two key features...<br />
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One is the large gap between the bottom of the steps and the beach, and the other is Lisa standing halfway up. The two are causally linked.<br />
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But one person who's not put off by a three foot drop (mainly because he knows I'll carry him) is Toby...<br />
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So while Lisa gazed thoughtfully into the distance, contemplating medieval history, world peace and nose cancer...<br />
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... the rest of us frolicked in a waterfall.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CkG7518YrWUhvDaLX1TaMSiSa5PnN7k_2IrTXuq6sWfFSdi81_V3nvn9eyFbjB2i4QkixaGsvaEbJKer58Q8U9E11I5DNVb83tsO5Cu6w15ve0Uf-o3AnyPaEVTVaAu6zZoPgw/s1600/Tintagel+02.5.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8CkG7518YrWUhvDaLX1TaMSiSa5PnN7k_2IrTXuq6sWfFSdi81_V3nvn9eyFbjB2i4QkixaGsvaEbJKer58Q8U9E11I5DNVb83tsO5Cu6w15ve0Uf-o3AnyPaEVTVaAu6zZoPgw/s620/Tintagel+02.5.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The good news, however, is that Lisa wasn't alone for long. By the time we'd explored Merlin's Cave and got back up to the wooden bridge, Toby had had enough of steps, and refused to go any further, so while Amelie and I climbed up to the gatehouse courtyard...<br />
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... Lisa and Toby clung to each other at the bottom...<br />
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To be honest, it was definitely the right decision. Some of those steps are stupidly steep for small legs and terrifyingly high for tiny minds. Lisa would never have made it.<br />
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But with the relieved pose of people who are lucky to be alive, Amelie and I conquered part one of Tintagel Castle...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxCxq3jUtU2i-Kb1fs8GQsvgsoT9rZIpT0Rnj2WFlgJiwDBPIWVec1vXzkMbBWdVtJ1GteVQXkDMXEYKUona7a3MGGZnhHRKoklDdZKzcBNXahZvuhBQB6uBEtqfTcAtR3FzOWKA/s1600/Tintagel+07.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxCxq3jUtU2i-Kb1fs8GQsvgsoT9rZIpT0Rnj2WFlgJiwDBPIWVec1vXzkMbBWdVtJ1GteVQXkDMXEYKUona7a3MGGZnhHRKoklDdZKzcBNXahZvuhBQB6uBEtqfTcAtR3FzOWKA/s520/Tintagel+07.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Having done so, we returned down those steps and advised Lisa and Toby to withdraw to the café. They didn't need much persuasion.<br />
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Amelie and I then headed up the even steeper steps to the Island Courtyard, and higher still to the Chapel, for views like these...<br />
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That long bungalow above is the café where Lisa and Toby hung out for an hour while Amelie and I enjoyed refreshments of a different kind, in the bracing cliff-top breeze...<br />
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Our family was eventually reunited at the Tintagel Castle café in the heart of King Arthur country to toast the legendary knights of old...<br />
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They only have <b><i>square</i></b> tables. I couldn't believe it.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-9613481270411904962016-05-25T09:05:00.001+01:002016-05-25T09:09:30.365+01:00Beth Tweddle, eat your heart out...<br />
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Admittedly, Beth probably didn't train for her competitions by drinking Slush Puppies in the nearest cafe, but if she had, she might have done better than Olympic bronze.<br />
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Anyhoo, yesterday can be neatly divided up into two distinct chapters: 'Before Toby's Earache' and 'After Toby's Earache'. The middle chapter, 'During Toby's Earache' is best forgotten. I'll probably tackle it in therapy in a few years' time.<br />
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Our plan for the day was to visit <a href="http://www.themilkyway.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Milky Way</a>, an adventure park near Clovelly, which I visited about thirty years ago when it was just a barn with a few cows. It's changed slightly since then. The cows have gone, presumably because they wouldn't go on the rollercoasters, and the sheep have been replaced by dodgems.<br />
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We arrived 15 minutes after they opened, and for the first hour were the only ones there, which was more than a little spooky. I felt like we were burgling the place. It was basically the theme park version of '28 Days Later'. The plus side of that is that there was no one there to witness me taking a full ten minutes to psych myself up before I could launch myself off the top of the drop slide. That's the <b>small</b> drop slide. I didn't even attempt the big one.<br />
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Having done it once, I naturally insisted on doing it again with Amelie, and getting Lisa to film it, partly to prove my bravery, but mainly so that I could see how much I look like a blubbery seal slipping down an ice floe...<br />
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Of course, we weren't the only ones who conquered our fears. Lisa agreed to go it alone on a rollercoaster...<br />
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... and Toby risked drowning in a ball pool...<br />
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Having crashed a few dodgems, been scared witless by aliens, and eaten lunch in the cafe, we decided to head to the trampolines, at which point Toby suddenly burst into tears. We assumed he was just tired, so Lisa sat down with him on a seat... then on the grass... then took him back to the car... and to cut a long, painful story short, we ended up having to leave. Amelie and I had experienced a few ups and downs...<br />
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... but this was definitely the low point of the day. We'd just finished watching the Birds of Prey show when Lisa returned from the car with a sobbing Toby, and we realised we had no alternative but to go. At which point Amelie burst into tears.<br />
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At the time, we didn't know what the problem was, as it's hard to get a 3-year-old to string a coherent sentence together when he's in severe pain, but three hours and a dose of Calpol later, he told us it was earache.<br />
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The Milky Way is a 40 minute drive from where we're staying, and it was due to shut in less than two hours time, so the idea of getting Toby back to the cottage and then returning with Amelie was a non-starter. But to placate the older of my two upset children, I told her I'd take her out somewhere else.<br />
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So having deposited Lisa and Toby back at base, Amelie and I made an impromptu visit to Bude...<br />
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It actually turned out to be very nice. The tide was out...<br />
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... and with the shallow water and soft sand, I didn't take much persuasion to get my kit off...<br />
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The last time my feet featured on this blog, <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2011/02/if-something-around-here-smells-fishy.html" target="_blank">they were being savaged by a pack of wild animals</a>, but this time the only bite I was at risk of was frostbite. The sea was bloomin' cold. So cold, in fact, that having dipped her toes in the water, Amelie ran back down the beach, attempting to get her tights back on with one hand...<br />
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So instead, we went rock-pooling and cave-hunting...<br />
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... before walking around the mostly closed shops, and buying a few postcards. As for Toby, he appears to be ok. In fact, this is the scene across the living room as I write this at 9am on Wednesday...<br />
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I'm not sure if he's holding his ears or just relaxing, but either way, I think we'll risk a trip to Tintagel...Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-28144171891192421222016-05-24T07:53:00.000+01:002016-05-26T09:11:17.492+01:00Tom Cruise, eat your heart out...<br />
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Admittedly, in Tom Cruise's case he was hanging upside down in an attempt to infiltrate a CIA computer and save the world, whereas I was just trying to get my hands on some food, but overall, I think my mission yesterday afternoon was far more impossible.<br />
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Don't let the chirpy smiles fool you...<br />
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We spent Monday pitting our wits against Moriarty. And frankly we lost.<br />
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The location for this meeting of minds was the <a href="http://hiddenvalleydiscoverypark.co.uk/" target="_blank">Hidden Valley Discovery Park</a> near Launceston, which is basically a park-based version of a puzzle app.<br />
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You start out here, at Moriarty's Mansion, an apparently small and misleadingly-named house...<br />
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I should point out that Toby's not throwing up there. He was actually loving it. No, really.<br />
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Anyhoo, you're given an electronic key card, and in the tradition of all good 'room escape' games, you're informed that all you need to do is get out. The house itself is a labyrinth of odd rooms, locked doors and weird corridors...<br />
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... and it's only afterwards (quite a long time afterwards, in our case) that you realise the house you see on the outside is only a small part of it. It actually extends across the first floor of the visitor centre via a connecting tunnel, but you're so disorientated when you're in there, you lose all sense of direction and have no idea of the scale. It's ingeniously constructed, with some brilliant effects...<br />
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There's no time for hanging around though...<br />
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... (well, maybe just a little bit of time)...<br />
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... because along the way, you have to attempt six of Moriarty's Missions - electronic puzzles which are activated using your key card, and range from the fairly easy to the fiendishly difficult. They all have a time limit, which is based partly on the electronic clock which counts down as you attempt the challenge, and partly on the time it takes Toby to realise that the rest of his family are engrossed in a brainteaser, and perform a room escape of his own.<br />
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When you eventually make it out, you can insert your key card into a slot in the visitor centre and it tells you which challenges you completed...<br />
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I defy anyone to complete that Fuel Rod mission. I was standing on a chair at one point, and then lying on the floor. It was like The Crystal Maze. But with more hair. And ultimately I think my team let me down.<br />
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Anyhoo, our next challenge had us running into the undergrowth...<br />
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... dashing across ditches...<br />
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... and looking puzzled on paths...<br />
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The Indiana Trail involved finding wooden posts, following ropes through the bushes, discovering tags, identifying animals, collecting letters and adding up numbers. It was particularly enjoyed by Lisa, as she got to sit on a picnic bench for half an hour while I scrambled through the vegetation with the kids.<br />
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By the end of it, I fully deserved the home-made steak burger they served me in the cafe, and was right up for visiting a hobbit...<br />
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That's him in the window. And fortunately, he invited us in...<br />
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Lisa and Toby headed off to the adventure playground at that point, leaving me and Amelie to conquer the hedge maze...<br />
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... and then attempt the Sherlock Holmes Trail. I have to say, this was my favourite part. From the starting point at one end of the park, you have to follow clues, each one giving a pointer to the location of the next, which could be anywhere in the park. For the intelligent lateral thinker, it's a simple matter of going from point to point. For us, it was a criss-crossing circuitous route covering what felt like twenty miles. And that was just to find Clue 2.<br />
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For me, the highlight of the entire day was clue number five, which we found on the underside of a shelf in an outbuilding, and which read: <i>"4 red dots, followed by 6 yellow dots, followed by 14 green dots. Behind the 12th green dot is hidden your next clue"</i>.<br />
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I kid you not: we spent an hour wandering around the park looking for dots. Well, *I* did. Amelie gave up after twenty minutes and Lisa forced me to go and get her a coffee. But I refused to be beaten. Apart from brow-beaten, obviously. Having scoured the entire Hidden Valley without success, I suddenly noticed a tiny pattern of coloured dots on the back of the park map I'd been carrying with me the whole time. I poked my pen through the 12th green dot, made a hole through to the aerial map of the park on the other side, and it marked a location at one end of a small wooden bridge. Arriving there, I searched the entire structure without success, before getting down on my hands and knees, and finding the next clue on the underside of one of the wooden fence slats, exactly where the map had indicated.<br />
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I may be slightly nerdy (although still very much a man's man, obviously), but I loved that.<br />
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But not as much as Lisa, who had said to me 45 minutes earlier <i>"Are there any dots on your map..?"</i>. I'd ignored her, obviously. Besides which, she was wrong. They were on the <b><i>back</i></b> of my map.<br />
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Unfortunately, it had taken so long to find clue 6 that we ran out of time to find the seventh before the park closed, which was gutting, as we were less than half way through and I was having the time of my life. We did, however, bask in the glory of completing the first five clues, adding up the answers and getting the right total...<br />
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After which Amelie did her victory pose on the railway bridge...<br />
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All in all, it was a fab day out, made even better by the almost complete absence of human beings...<br />
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Although the three in that photo come close. I'm not saying we were right to take Amelie out of school for four days, but frankly if it means saving hundreds of pounds and getting the tourist attractions to ourselves, her education can go hang.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-20885713689440378802016-05-23T10:37:00.002+01:002016-05-23T10:45:00.600+01:00Bear Grylls, eat your heart out...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-bMWiewAbQpQQl96UQThjahtATVOSkbIPIo34neZQs8IWcP-6-MMPdd9fvedekoVEiJZk2qVu3dfcLNyQkZ35blg5t2FOQ2d_Qi6agHMar6RWkyJRUkvrIzMWjDfaYorhFNShw/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+07.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-bMWiewAbQpQQl96UQThjahtATVOSkbIPIo34neZQs8IWcP-6-MMPdd9fvedekoVEiJZk2qVu3dfcLNyQkZ35blg5t2FOQ2d_Qi6agHMar6RWkyJRUkvrIzMWjDfaYorhFNShw/s680/Lydford+Gorge+07.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Admittedly, my own wilderness survival experience featured two cream teas and a cheese sandwich, but that doesn't diminish the fact that I was lucky to get out alive. Don't let the words 'National Trust' fool you. This was extreme, near-death adventuring.<br />
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Anyhoo, it's a well known fact that you can please one of the children all of the time and both of the children some of the time, but you can never please both of the children all of the time...<br />
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So for the first day of our holiday, I didn't even bother trying. I told them we were going to <a href="http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/lydford-gorge" target="_blank">Lydford Gorge</a>, packed them into the car and turned on the child locks.<br />
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On arrival, we were greeted by a very friendly member of staff who spent ten minutes trying to flog us National Trust membership, and precisely no minutes whatsoever warning us of the impending doom that was waiting for us at the bottom of the canyon. Admittedly, he's probably never received any complaints, but that's only because no one ever makes it out alive.<br />
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It all started well enough, with Toby leading the inevitable sing-song as we strolled our way through the woods at the top of the gorge...<br />
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We even paused for the odd (and I use that word deliberately) family photo...<br />
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I did express some mild concern about the sheer drop on the right hand side of the path, and the fact that one member of our party was liable to trot along in a world of their own without due care and attention, but having discussed it with Toby, he said he'd keep an eye on Lisa for me.<br />
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After a mile and a half (and a stop at the National Trust cafe), we made it to the main attraction: the 30-metre-high White Lady Falls...<br />
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Falls is an appropriate word, as there are plenty of chances to take a tumble, and Lisa had to be helped down the rocks at the bottom whilst being overtaken by a couple of pensioners, but it was worth the trek for a spectacular view of the waterfall and the chance to have our photo taken by a random member of the public...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvEO52nYUiXh4RuzJyEbnGH6wc88BNT-ngyIKR5B91M7piCRl5ajI7kwhB1MlJc0cUOFXdDEUWl7gIWtLnkt5p89QeJmLMk3_A_9huu3f2RjpDvFDn7keeP94hW2FAmPVVZBQMw/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+06.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvEO52nYUiXh4RuzJyEbnGH6wc88BNT-ngyIKR5B91M7piCRl5ajI7kwhB1MlJc0cUOFXdDEUWl7gIWtLnkt5p89QeJmLMk3_A_9huu3f2RjpDvFDn7keeP94hW2FAmPVVZBQMw/s620/Lydford+Gorge+06.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Toby was keeping count of the number of times Lisa had muttered <i>'Never again...'</i><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6tHTC6XcW9n7YUAfl2lyNV73hW663Hbf6jSeDZgR-3pEOAYAN0qyNNYCcyrRmfVees51_0nq1fQjUofQR_sMxl9KBJ7G42sHLbZfIWy7EGp6jiTEz4Tcd8KwzIaGg8wvCcQD5w/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+04.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6tHTC6XcW9n7YUAfl2lyNV73hW663Hbf6jSeDZgR-3pEOAYAN0qyNNYCcyrRmfVees51_0nq1fQjUofQR_sMxl9KBJ7G42sHLbZfIWy7EGp6jiTEz4Tcd8KwzIaGg8wvCcQD5w/s620/Lydford+Gorge+04.jpg" /></a></div><br />
... while I attempted to take her mind off the perils by suggesting that she take her coat off and recreate the Timotei advert.<br />
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Sadly, she was having none of it, so we set off on the return journey, which took us a mile and a half along the bottom of the gorge. I expected it to be a lot safer; after all, we were no longer walking along the top of a 35m ravine, so it was essentially a stroll along a riverbank.<br />
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Unfortunately, this particular stroll had clearly been designed by someone unfamiliar with the words 'Health & Safety'. The further we went, the less the path went with us...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4FI-b4y_9Cr8psabv3bjqmBN00U-5aSVHKbqsHo7BJbsT-N88slJkX9w5Yhs87vkunRWnJ6qHqdlvPzjEzUPb7EWPUdv0nRbsf5cO5ifrTPlWSNKOQNypU2fUsn1cPxgpb7xRw/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+10.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4FI-b4y_9Cr8psabv3bjqmBN00U-5aSVHKbqsHo7BJbsT-N88slJkX9w5Yhs87vkunRWnJ6qHqdlvPzjEzUPb7EWPUdv0nRbsf5cO5ifrTPlWSNKOQNypU2fUsn1cPxgpb7xRw/s620/Lydford+Gorge+10.jpg" /></a></div><br />
... and at times, you didn't so much need walking boots as rock climbing gear...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVf-WORP90s4Xc6DTN0KdUY6AaRkyHNI7FeRdKtmnS6KgMXIKDarjkcJFLxKS8tjENIn7-R_4l8i9JIHjYEMufxa0y4iW1VgrvlAWY4jNATTuL46YdpJlsx4xoE6q7rofO47X7A/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+12.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVf-WORP90s4Xc6DTN0KdUY6AaRkyHNI7FeRdKtmnS6KgMXIKDarjkcJFLxKS8tjENIn7-R_4l8i9JIHjYEMufxa0y4iW1VgrvlAWY4jNATTuL46YdpJlsx4xoE6q7rofO47X7A/s620/Lydford+Gorge+12.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I haven't actually photographed the most treacherous parts, as I was too busy gripping Toby's hand like his life depended on it (which, frankly, it did). There was never anything between us and the river, and the 'path' was frequently nothing more than a two-foot-wide jagged rock. As I said to Lisa at the time, the only thing which could have improved this as a tourist attraction would have been <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2006/02/yes-i-know-we-look-quite-cheerful-but-i.html" target="_blank">the addition of a few iguanas</a>.<br />
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The irony is that both the children loved it. I spent most of the time wondering which of them I should try to save first if they both fell off the next narrow, slippery ledge into the fast moving water below, while Lisa was staving off a panic attack behind me, and on the verge of crawling on all fours in an attempt to avoid certain death. But the kids couldn't have been happier...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii59K3EivDr9T1eQCN26-3WoWbfqTkn34HXNFxNW7nI_4Ndk6ge7kcbtAf-gFQYQEIYpBhPyaHXzOi5fzoKHwEUjly0Oo7H65aF0v3LI-UlK4OgdYuiSOIMxiQ-ucBLVjhYtXAXA/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+13.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii59K3EivDr9T1eQCN26-3WoWbfqTkn34HXNFxNW7nI_4Ndk6ge7kcbtAf-gFQYQEIYpBhPyaHXzOi5fzoKHwEUjly0Oo7H65aF0v3LI-UlK4OgdYuiSOIMxiQ-ucBLVjhYtXAXA/s500/Lydford+Gorge+13.jpg" /></a></div><br />
And, to be fair, if you can cope with the cold sweat of fear at every death-trap-laden step, the views are well worth it. I enjoyed it in the same way I enjoy a rollercoaster ride: in hindsight. And preferably no more than once.<br />
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I have to say though, the National Trust are surely only one step away from a fatality here. By the time you reach The Devil's Cauldron, you're actually expected to walk across this slippery ledge to the viewing platform with nothing between you and the raging, rocky torrent below...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ajEGBCbcVmJHYrHYl62ZxDkfeHzDoH-lfj7RZhb43Vyr02bHrdTb-KSyMaLiQ9bn201MAb8Ivq80NkU9hw5HLk3z1lzcLWcpcgiGvFWAR-grJLb_lU1FhvLCjMtIqWi_FhG71A/s1600/Lydford+Gorge+14.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ajEGBCbcVmJHYrHYl62ZxDkfeHzDoH-lfj7RZhb43Vyr02bHrdTb-KSyMaLiQ9bn201MAb8Ivq80NkU9hw5HLk3z1lzcLWcpcgiGvFWAR-grJLb_lU1FhvLCjMtIqWi_FhG71A/s620/Lydford+Gorge+14.jpg" /></a></div><br />
There's a sign recommending that babies are strapped into front-carriers only. Presumably to give them one last, reassuring look at their mother's face before they both plunge to their deaths. I'd have phoned customer services to request a handrail, but there's no mobile reception in the gorge. And they'd never hear you over the roar of the water.<br />
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Needless to say, we didn't risk it.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-27607807958846744662016-05-22T10:15:00.001+01:002016-05-22T10:26:35.959+01:00The thing about blogging is that 3,250 posts is never enough. Inevitably, some life-changing and potentially defining moment comes out of left field and drives you to put aside the pressures of work, shove the kids in front of the TV and write that 3,251st entry. An event so pivotal and unexpected that it cries out to be documented.<br />
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Yes, it’s true. I’ve beaten Amelie at table football.<br />
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Oh, and Lisa has cancer.<br />
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You should have seen my third goal though. It was a screamer. Straight through the defence like a Beckham free kick and into the back of the net. It’s no wonder she went off in a huff.<br />
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As for Lisa, it transpires that the small and insignificant spot I’ve been looking at on the end of her nose for the past year or so is actually a basal cell carcinoma. And not acne, as I helpfully suggested. With hindsight, it was probably wrong of me to suggest that the reason it kept bleeding every couple of weeks was because she was picking it in her sleep, although I stand by my assertion that the root cause of this condition is her habit of twitching her nose when she’s trying to make a decision.<br />
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It’s ironic, as I’ve always assumed Lisa would be diagnosed with a vitamin D deficiency rather than skin cancer. She avoids sunbathing like a vegan avoids steak, and is often tempted to convert to Islam just to give her an excuse to cover up more. So she’s definitely putting the idio into idiopathic here. I can only assume she stuck her nose out of the window once during the long hot summer of 1983 and is paying the price now.<br />
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Let’s face it though, this is a woman for whom disaster has dogged every step. And most of those steps have taken her headfirst <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2011/07/monday-was-bad-day.html" target="_blank">through glass-fronted sideboards</a>, down steep hills and <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2006/04/todays-edition-of-where-do-they-find.html" target="_blank">over cliffs</a>. She can make walking on a level piece of tarmac look difficult. She even managed to follow up her cancer biopsy last week with a trip down a kerb...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKNMaaxwUio_4zCc608ZY-zMBVtjAQMPquULZaaSQ8WCVDdpX81tggrdqaIdu61jX-HBvaCermR7n302_5Y9sHAy6iQq0F4CmbyiEDX4SY1UcBKtyhxEZ__9xSrd3ikORKIsgsA/s1600/message.png" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKNMaaxwUio_4zCc608ZY-zMBVtjAQMPquULZaaSQ8WCVDdpX81tggrdqaIdu61jX-HBvaCermR7n302_5Y9sHAy6iQq0F4CmbyiEDX4SY1UcBKtyhxEZ__9xSrd3ikORKIsgsA/s460/message.png" /></a></div><br />
I wouldn't mind, but the school run is actually a slow walk.<br />
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Anyhoo, it's important to respond sensitively to these things and not make the patient feel that it's somehow their fault, which I think I achieved there. The good news is that having received the cancer diagnosis six days ago, I was able to take the day off work on Friday to attend Lisa's follow-up appointment with a consultant plastic surgeon. It was just as well, as having been told to take a seat in the waiting room, Lisa strode straight down the corridor in the wrong direction, and would probably still be wandering aimlessly around the hospital had I not been there.<br />
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As it transpires, however, following her nose in the future will only lead Lisa to the surgeon’s pedal bin. It seems the carcinoma may have infiltrated deeper than first thought and was never likely to respond to the course of Savlon I suggested. Lisa’s been referred to the specialist unit at the Queen Victoria Hospital in East Grinstead, where she’ll undergo Mohs surgery to remove the end of her nose, followed by a forehead flap reconstruction, which sounds mildly concerning until you look at <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nasal_reconstruction_using_a_paramedian_forehead_flap" target="_blank">its Wikipedia page</a>. At which point concern turns to horror.<br />
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On the plus side, the outlook is extremely good and she should make a full recovery within months. I’ll also be able to perform a new version of the ‘My Dog’s Got No Nose’ joke at dinner parties. But those considerable pluses aside, it’s not good news, and Lisa’s understandably a bit miffed.<br />
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But as luck would have it, we already had a holiday booked for this week, so as I write this, we’re getting away from our worries and stresses on the banks of the River Tamar in Cornwall, staying in a tranquil and relaxing farm cottage. It’s just a shame I couldn’t lie about Lisa’s age and get it paid for by the Make-a-Wish Foundation.<br />
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The kids are doing their best to introduce the locals to the concept of noise, but our first twenty-four hours have been a constant delight. The cottage comes with its own football table, which has provided at least one of us with a moment of joy, and we even had a few visitors at our back door this morning...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NSpzaokfF4omQYxYjOT_L5ayKPqsokp3aP5EFVEHhwGUe7-45Nm80ExVKVDenjqaxhGJGi-c2PEgWpVMMX0OYWFlRNyeBynobN78_CHVcDKJIWqEGf0AYY7m5dOL0Q_z8KP57A/s1600/cows.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NSpzaokfF4omQYxYjOT_L5ayKPqsokp3aP5EFVEHhwGUe7-45Nm80ExVKVDenjqaxhGJGi-c2PEgWpVMMX0OYWFlRNyeBynobN78_CHVcDKJIWqEGf0AYY7m5dOL0Q_z8KP57A/s500/cows.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So give it a few days and Lisa will have caught mad cow disease.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-87816589374986195162015-09-12T22:50:00.000+01:002015-09-12T22:50:20.701+01:00<br />
<center><u><span style="font-size: large;">Work-Life Balance</span></u></center><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMNIwPNfBEzFhYcwfRPk-4n8T4AcaPtlqLKeMV-yHDZ7S3NBio5xsscLksnwyYy9sQKKdmkxhMV9Q5DjLx7PbPb5XjZnXDeuvX7qUzk2IAZKZst8kA2WoNCuSvEpTi3VASA5NZaQ/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMNIwPNfBEzFhYcwfRPk-4n8T4AcaPtlqLKeMV-yHDZ7S3NBio5xsscLksnwyYy9sQKKdmkxhMV9Q5DjLx7PbPb5XjZnXDeuvX7qUzk2IAZKZst8kA2WoNCuSvEpTi3VASA5NZaQ/s940/10.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8grHp68FhKweHApFRDSzb92ka264Rk7ftlhf8UhZzAjBPjeBvXhSeQaKCItq89PIOoSEK1KpP04bKqU2oEPSFt56zkCxC39b64kYPwrbyc4WpFbJOPP-StqRjccz_Q-U44rPgA/s1600/Paradise+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8grHp68FhKweHApFRDSzb92ka264Rk7ftlhf8UhZzAjBPjeBvXhSeQaKCItq89PIOoSEK1KpP04bKqU2oEPSFt56zkCxC39b64kYPwrbyc4WpFbJOPP-StqRjccz_Q-U44rPgA/s940/Paradise+12.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-26198136467341682972015-08-22T13:16:00.000+01:002015-08-22T13:20:51.447+01:00The waiting is finally over...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirglaUWh093ekWaurivu3U4MR29nu_0Jh9iUR5G0nFVi7LbzVehsA192hRZ6IvJ1VCBbBndmiMUXVtMG5KK9xuUOVTtCoArKKjfGnuP8ZPxF0bupTnLNinD3rh-b1DXkP0Dw3UnA/s1600/Wedding1.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="560" width="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirglaUWh093ekWaurivu3U4MR29nu_0Jh9iUR5G0nFVi7LbzVehsA192hRZ6IvJ1VCBbBndmiMUXVtMG5KK9xuUOVTtCoArKKjfGnuP8ZPxF0bupTnLNinD3rh-b1DXkP0Dw3UnA/s1000/Wedding1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
After years spent wondering if she'd ever stay in one country long enough to say "I do", Big Sis is now married. And has just left the country again. Possibly to avoid being shown up by '<a href="http://www.channel5.com/shows/benefits/episodes/live-wedding" target="_blank">The Great Big Benefits Wedding: Live</a>' which is scheduled for Tuesday on Channel 5, and is likely to prove that she didn't need to spend more than three hundred quid on a cake.<br />
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Obviously the key to a successful wedding is to invite the right people, so Amelie and Toby were first on the guest list, and brightening up proceedings with the kind of calm, dignified reverence that befits a life-changing religious ceremony...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtQwECxWOPLLR2swz5qIcJYAjAZygg-S5z45NuD5lQzkucKHVpymUSoB9d8W-Al4pHSak2iXwgauIzWtKPmOB92eGHLvwVmdfNfxCCz5Q9sx7rwNwubSuuyB_B8rSTvQUhk4Pdg/s1600/Wedding2.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" width="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAtQwECxWOPLLR2swz5qIcJYAjAZygg-S5z45NuD5lQzkucKHVpymUSoB9d8W-Al4pHSak2iXwgauIzWtKPmOB92eGHLvwVmdfNfxCCz5Q9sx7rwNwubSuuyB_B8rSTvQUhk4Pdg/s800/Wedding2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I failed to get any footage of Toby dancing down the aisle, but I feel sure it was what Big Sis had in mind when she said she didn't want children at her wedding.<br />
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Unfortunately for Big Sis, the Gardners come as a package, and much as Lisa and I would have loved to spend the day like this...<br />
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... our foolish life choices meant that we were never far away from a couple of troublesome wedding crashers...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SE7efJy5cMpf2E3TE0a0L0SjySh8MhqEkpoZCPQ97ZxKqA1xEvE84wbVvu1jwqaI_Gv2LJTShrnAALeEEgNqGh9Q5hkQk3Z4hTIQP_rVhenn3oBWRvCsrmfsTWzzUxwDUqyVXw/s1600/Wedding3.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" width="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-SE7efJy5cMpf2E3TE0a0L0SjySh8MhqEkpoZCPQ97ZxKqA1xEvE84wbVvu1jwqaI_Gv2LJTShrnAALeEEgNqGh9Q5hkQk3Z4hTIQP_rVhenn3oBWRvCsrmfsTWzzUxwDUqyVXw/s900/Wedding3.jpg" /></a></div><br />
On the plus side, we had the pleasure of spending the previous night in a high class hotel with its own sauna and steam room. Unfortunately they were located in room 216 of the Devizes Travelodge, with no off switch, and a window that not even a stick insect could get through. Alarm bells should have rung when the receptionist pointed us towards the lift with the words <i>"There's a fan on the shelf just inside the door"</i>. I can only assume that room 216 is situated directly above room 666 where they burn the sinful souls of Premier Inn guests in the fiery furnace of hell. Either that or the boiler room.<br />
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Anyhoo, Lisa had the pleasure of drying her hair three times on Thursday morning as the sweat poured straight out of her brain, and we were eventually forced to evacuate into the car park in our slippers to avoid passing out from the intense heat. But other than that, our preparations went well. Apart from Toby scattering bits of muffin all over the carpet and spilling his drink on the bed. The nice part was bumping into other wedding guests who told us that they knew we'd arrived the previous evening as they'd heard our children through the bedroom walls. I wouldn't mind, but they weren't all on the same floor. Some weren't even in the same hotel.<br />
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The good news is that in the space of a few hours we shed enough pounds to fit into our wedding clothes, and despite dangerous levels of dehydration, we made it to St James' church on time and took our places in the second row...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDTvlOn32PH5eHceugVpXsKLxdiWIPX0WgYwA5t_LclyCmSfKjsY3cSpRAFZ1IHQ2UBS0w5Fgs5WQi4XTkeVqbUZLfE2Mt-nao-UQjK6Nvxn_FQJu2wQIt8R0Mq_wv8zmR_FeQA/s1600/wedding5.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqDTvlOn32PH5eHceugVpXsKLxdiWIPX0WgYwA5t_LclyCmSfKjsY3cSpRAFZ1IHQ2UBS0w5Fgs5WQi4XTkeVqbUZLfE2Mt-nao-UQjK6Nvxn_FQJu2wQIt8R0Mq_wv8zmR_FeQA/s520/wedding5.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Amelie had an important role to play, which will surely stand her in good stead for her future career as a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ring_girl" target="_blank">Ring Girl</a> (it's encouraging for feminists everywhere that Wikipedia has a page devoted to that job)...<br />
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... and my Dad successfully walked his daughter down the aisle and happily offloaded her with a major sense of relief...<br />
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With the 'I Dos' done and the rings exchanged without the help of a ring girl...<br />
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... we left the painful memories of the Devizes Travelodge behind us and journeyed into the countryside to the far more exclusive (and slightly cooler) surroundings of the <a href="http://www.manorhouse.co.uk/" target="_blank">Manor House Hotel</a> in Castle Combe. One night's stay costs about a week's salary, but fortunately I wasn't paying, so I was more than happy to take advantage of the facilities by stuffing myself with free food and stealing enough shampoo to last me a lifetime. It was a 50ml bottle.<br />
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To be honest, the wedding breakfast portions could have been three times bigger and still counted as snacks, and if you were Jewish, you'd have passed out from malnutrition at the evening buffet, but the breakfast the next morning more than made up for any shortcomings, and allowed me to put on a stone in less than half an hour.<br />
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In addition to my stomach, I left with a slightly larger head, following some kind comments about my wedding speech...<br />
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<center><iframe width="500" height="281" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XU_4HElRvaU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></center><br />
Although if you're doing an audio-visual presentation at a wedding, it's a good idea to remember not to walk in front of the projector every time you reach for a glass of water.<br />
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The first dance was equally well received...<br />
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And in fact, Big Sis didn't put a foot wrong all day. She was the most beautiful bride since Lisa, and didn't stop smiling from the moment she walked into the church to the moment she staggered off the dance floor. Although apparently she was still texting my Mum after midnight, so clearly something went wrong somewhere.<br />
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Congratulations, Big Sis. We all love you very much. xxxPhilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-27925946511775941492015-05-09T13:16:00.000+01:002015-05-09T13:25:15.525+01:00It's been all downhill for the past couple of weeks...<br />
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Don't worry, I haven't grown a moustache. Or a pair. If I wanted to experience extreme levels of terror, I'd just ask Lisa to leave me alone with the kids for a day. I don't need to hurtle off a cliff in a plastic log. That's not actually me. And it's not Doctor Eggman either. In fact, the evil hipster who has my daughter in his menacing clutches is none other than our good friend Andrew. He clearly deserves a medal for bravery. Not for going on the log flume at Brighton Pier, but for spending a few hours with Amelie.<br />
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Anyhoo, that was Bank Holiday Monday in Brighton. Toby wasn't allowed out due to extreme levels of naughtiness and a refusal to wear trousers, but we needed someone to keep a close eye on Amelie...<br />
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... and Stefan & Andrew are always up for a bit of hard work, so I met them on the pier for some white-knuckle childcare. It gave me the chance to treat Amelie to a kids' wristband entitling her to unlimited free rides, and then watch as she refused to go on any of them. Not that she was <b><i>completely</i></b> unreasonable. She was quite willing to try all the adult rides for £4 a go, whilst asking for toffee apples, fish & chips and ice cream. It was just the <b>free</b> stuff she didn't want.<br />
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To be honest, you have to take your fun wherever you can find it. We'd spent Saturday afternoon terrorising fish with a big stick in the garden of a good friend, which was surprisingly enjoyable...<br />
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Though possibly not for the fish. It did, however, inspire me to live up to my name by philling the car with gardnering stuff for the balcony...<br />
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Obviously that pot plant had been knocked over by the wind within twenty-four hours, but it would have been dead within a week anyway due to Amelie's excessive watering.<br />
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Anyhoo, the big news of the week is that Brighton & Hove are now red and green apples, bobbing in a sea of Conservatism...<br />
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I usually turn to food in moments of stress, so I've been doing a lot of comfort eating since Thursday. It's a good job we've got so many food banks. Things are so bleak that Toby's packed a bag and is heading for the airport...<br />
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He's not leaving the country, he's going to meet David Miliband.<br />
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Fortunately, we still have mementos of the good old days when liberalism meant street artists wearing hats instead of Paddy Ashdown eating them...<br />
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<center><iframe width="500" height="375" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/nEDU0DJ87rk?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></center><br />
The details are a bit sketchy...<br />
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He charged me five quid for that. Bloody capitalist.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-75150549055883794482015-04-20T11:32:00.002+01:002015-04-20T11:35:54.091+01:00It's been so long since I last blogged, my son's turned 16...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQn3ossC2H-cySsK9HyLZYwX8YAWKTJMwR7YAU8PdT_tAaaB2kkesC_Y2uWTMeft_rzy5sWBmjCFx3L8FBtcx2KTWClIiP9nt5ROnST_MG9CMo2oiv6iWeB5srNelgedakE4j-g/s1600/Toby+16.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="540" width="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQn3ossC2H-cySsK9HyLZYwX8YAWKTJMwR7YAU8PdT_tAaaB2kkesC_Y2uWTMeft_rzy5sWBmjCFx3L8FBtcx2KTWClIiP9nt5ROnST_MG9CMo2oiv6iWeB5srNelgedakE4j-g/s840/Toby+16.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Admittedly his growth is a bit stunted, but that's what happens when you live on Barny Bear cakes and ice lollies. Frankly it's a miracle he's still alive. If it wasn't for the peanut butter frosting on his cupcakes, he wouldn't be getting any protein at all.<br />
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Anyhoo, the reasons for my prolonged absence are best summed up by this Top Trump, which was kindly created for me by Amelie on an NHS iPad...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5FWirfMRDfSc6SGcP9r0Up_U8j1FljgDdu1y1t1siq7FMCtpKA2AwBtNYK_29KXSgSaMCNiPMfRFNdG-l9sXs6Zxe0ZqlsiCryrWx__ROBuocoYVTo5RvP8Oz4b9TKqHCMDG9Q/s1600/Trump+Phil.png" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia5FWirfMRDfSc6SGcP9r0Up_U8j1FljgDdu1y1t1siq7FMCtpKA2AwBtNYK_29KXSgSaMCNiPMfRFNdG-l9sXs6Zxe0ZqlsiCryrWx__ROBuocoYVTo5RvP8Oz4b9TKqHCMDG9Q/s480/Trump+Phil.png" /></a></div>Clearly my approach to management is half-arsed, but I'm 100% committed to work. I basically lost the entire month of March to <a href="http://www.publictenders.net/node/2839022" target="_blank">this little endeavour</a>, which I felt was enough of a rollercoaster ride to warrant more than a 10 on my adventure score. Amelie always was a tough marker.<br />
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At one point I was asked to write 36,000 words in 3 weeks to win a contract worth ten million. So at £278 a word, I said I'd write a sentence for three grand. It's no wonder we're out of the running.<br />
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The lesson I've learned is that when you're leaving for work before your kids get up, and arriving home after their bedtime, you don't want to spend your weekends writing a blog. Admittedly, you don't always want to spend it with <b>them</b> either, but in a lot of ways you feel you ought to. Toby was seeing more of the Yodel delivery man than his own father. He'd started looking at me suspiciously if I walked in without a parcel. So, <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/newsbysector/mediatechnologyandtelecoms/digital-media/11544186/Finance-world-in-the-dark-as-Bloomberg-terminals-go-offline.html" target="_blank">much like Bloomberg before me</a>, I went offline for a while, in the hope of reminding my kids who I am.<br />
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Fortunately I've had enough of that now. I had a week's annual leave booked for March, which had to be cancelled at short notice due to health reasons (the NHS needed me), so I'm taking this week off instead. There's no Cheltenham Festival this week, so it's not <b><i>quite</i></b> the same, but at least the weather's slightly better.<br />
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We took advantage of it yesterday by heading down to the pier for the afternoon. As the Top Trump above demonstrates, I'm a big fan of Paul Hollywood, so I was particularly pleased to bump into Richard Burr and Chetna Makan from The Great British Bake Off as we strolled past the doughnut kiosk. Needless to say, they weren't buying any. According to Chetna's Twitter, the whole gang were down there yesterday...<br />
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<center><blockquote class="twitter-tweet" lang="en"><p>Great day <a href="https://twitter.com/BrightonPier">@BrightonPier</a> with <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/bakeoff?src=hash">#bakeoff</a> buddies <a href="https://twitter.com/marthacollison">@marthacollison</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/RichardPBurr">@RichardPBurr</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/LaPetitLion">@LaPetitLion</a> Thank you <a href="https://twitter.com/Treaclebakes">@Treaclebakes</a> xx <a href="http://t.co/hxuY4JFtC9">pic.twitter.com/hxuY4JFtC9</a></p>— Chetna Makan (@chetnamakan) <a href="https://twitter.com/chetnamakan/status/589807017566535680">April 19, 2015</a></blockquote><script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script></center><br />
... but sadly we didn't see the others. I expect they were busy taking that ice cream out of the freezer.<br />
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Anyhoo, the sight of Lisa exercising might be shocking...<br />
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But even more jaw-dropping than that is the fact that it's now a quarter of a century since this newspaper article was published...<br />
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That was posted on Facebook by an old school friend of mine, possibly in an attempt to make me feel old. And bald. I still remember that free bus to Norwich. I've never known luxury like it.<br />
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By coincidence, I made a pilgrimage back to the badlands of Essex last weekend to show Toby and Amelie my old school...<br />
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And the house I grew up in...<br />
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It hasn't changed a bit. You could still have a Rod Hull incident with that TV aerial, and the walls could do with some render. This hedge is new though...<br />
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Well, I say new. They could have grown it from seed in the time since I left.<br />
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But despite it being 22 years since I moved out, those bollards have stood the test of time, and immediately proved just as irresistible to Amelie as they did to Big Sis three and a half decades ago...<br />
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It was all grazed thighs and bruises back in the 70s. But having seen my old stomping ground, Amelie declared that she loved it so much, she'd like to move there. Which demonstrates what life is like for her now. She sees a Basildon council estate as a step up.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-43271023404489104052015-02-22T09:16:00.001+00:002015-02-22T09:16:55.312+00:00Some models are complete dogs...<br />
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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.<br />
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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...<br />
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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...<br />
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Although at the moment they're mostly using it for playing on my work iPad. And they're still mastering the concept of <i>separate</i> beds.<br />
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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 <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taxi_to_the_Dark_Side" target="_blank">Taxi to the Dark Side</a> with the complete box set of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gimme_Gimme_Gimme_(TV_series)" target="_blank">Gimme Gimme Gimme</a>, so frankly it's been torture all the way.<br />
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Understandably, all of this has taken a considerable toll on both my physical and mental health...<br />
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So I could do with a holiday now. Unfortunately I'm back to work tomorrow. But the important thing is that the <b><i>children<i></i></i></b> can relax...<br />
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Not that Toby ever had a problem...<br />
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And to be honest, he needed a lie-down after being scared witless by a dinosaur...<br />
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Interestingly, Toby's terrified-by-a-prehistoric-killer look is a lot like his watching-3D-TV pose...<br />
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He has the permanent look of a Thunderbirds puppet.<br />
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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.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-15707547984117223722015-02-14T15:41:00.000+00:002015-02-14T15:41:59.087+00:00It's a bigamist's nightmare: a card from the wife, but no clue as to which one...<br />
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It's true, I <b>have</b> 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 <i><b>need</b></i> 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.<br />
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Anyhoo, it might take two to tango on Valentine's Day, but it only takes one to do the freestyle...<br />
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The small print at the bottom states that <i>"THIS CERTIFICATE DOES NOT PERMIT THE BEARER TO TEACH"</i>, 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...<br />
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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.<br />
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Anyhoo, while I attempt to solve the puzzle of who knocked Amelie's jigsaw on the floor...<br />
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... the good news is that the bunk beds have arrived...<br />
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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.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-85709996783919586152015-02-01T10:11:00.001+00:002015-02-01T10:12:47.065+00:00Amelie's on her high horse again...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZE66QIxkipEJLtPOwK_3wnxOahwZGsn9h7hGBa57l4rtvQOVu2gV_fsHwowVYjfP68OLTNW-oB74k7ZuzplViCD4YgG2Ma7GWVXWLoujCtoapa8BxkJDC8SGmCbp1JlVWy0YOxg/s1600/Horseriding+01.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="540" width="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZE66QIxkipEJLtPOwK_3wnxOahwZGsn9h7hGBa57l4rtvQOVu2gV_fsHwowVYjfP68OLTNW-oB74k7ZuzplViCD4YgG2Ma7GWVXWLoujCtoapa8BxkJDC8SGmCbp1JlVWy0YOxg/s840/Horseriding+01.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Yes, after just one hour-long lesson at <a href="http://www.3greys.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Three Greys Riding School</a> 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.<br />
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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...<br />
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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...<br />
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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...<br />
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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... <br />
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She was driving one-handed by that point. It'll be bareback and no hands next time.<br />
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Of course, if her father has his way, there won't <b><i>be</i></b> 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.<br />
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But one activity that I <b>am<i></i></b> 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 <a href="http://www.theploughpyecombe.co.uk/" target="_blank">The Plough</a>...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdo3zl7Yrn74x1I3ap-blptmiPXAEbwBpOdKgRl99vPjQHre7I1JpQwOemKZn9N-6HNKiKUKKyCpZxJHsPB8IHFLcC_InITZZRs3puHFl3L36Rc_PJTQV46on1EpAoh6A84GKVg/s1600/Horseriding+10.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdo3zl7Yrn74x1I3ap-blptmiPXAEbwBpOdKgRl99vPjQHre7I1JpQwOemKZn9N-6HNKiKUKKyCpZxJHsPB8IHFLcC_InITZZRs3puHFl3L36Rc_PJTQV46on1EpAoh6A84GKVg/s740/Horseriding+10.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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...<br />
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Despite Amelie's insistence on lining up her prehistoric finds on a bit of driftwood, those aren't actually old fossils. Although there <b>are</b> a couple in this picture...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVulmWuD_9lwpb9nRvGVpPksAq17NDrJNndbbJzhlVfZ9G1ewGRgxPULUWTfoVXZApVY6dGOV6krqzUDIfztjrIFkHNHBcZMbJJbyfPggubQcAZjtIkJBhXaCsPZMP8OlqOn5IQ/s1600/fossil+hunting+2.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipVulmWuD_9lwpb9nRvGVpPksAq17NDrJNndbbJzhlVfZ9G1ewGRgxPULUWTfoVXZApVY6dGOV6krqzUDIfztjrIFkHNHBcZMbJJbyfPggubQcAZjtIkJBhXaCsPZMP8OlqOn5IQ/s740/fossil+hunting+2.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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...Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-60362905941227759362015-01-25T08:20:00.001+00:002015-01-25T08:25:50.552+00:00I came home the other night and said <i>"Lisa! Someone just called you an owl!"</i>. She looked at me, slightly startled, and said <i>"What??"</i><br />
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Obviously I was aiming for 'who', but to be honest, my hopes weren't high when I started. The good news, however, is that I no longer need to rely on this family's comedy skills to get us onto Britain's Got Talent, because out of nowhere, Toby's developed the ability to levitate...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gzA2UdXDruRv7VBtWSbgp1R2P80P3vyG0fQHpP-XFIxX-4Irke58Q01kteXYC-0_EbyjCAmPpQDnEdjH30vs77-PeUXz01-yckQqWRJNG9AA5xBKpAl6pVA0TUD3F6HMSK4-wg/s1600/Married.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="560" width="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gzA2UdXDruRv7VBtWSbgp1R2P80P3vyG0fQHpP-XFIxX-4Irke58Q01kteXYC-0_EbyjCAmPpQDnEdjH30vs77-PeUXz01-yckQqWRJNG9AA5xBKpAl6pVA0TUD3F6HMSK4-wg/s840/Married.jpg" /></a></div><br />
He can float at will, six inches off the ground. We're going to save a fortune on carpet wear and tear.<br />
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As it happens, I'm particularly pleased to see Toby going up in the world, because I'm currently implementing Operation Stack in the children's bedroom, and I need someone to climb this ladder...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG7THFHWUuepuaUF1HqsTWIm5YC_9h_0Edhfl3UNdIoV-FXbNV7xEvGn3KKbEr725J_paKHUPt-5qdio2OfTecCSwRAOSH4o-HnV6-SwMcbbbApeEvgmWWYBbMJoW8JihEXAKVg/s1600/bunk.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG7THFHWUuepuaUF1HqsTWIm5YC_9h_0Edhfl3UNdIoV-FXbNV7xEvGn3KKbEr725J_paKHUPt-5qdio2OfTecCSwRAOSH4o-HnV6-SwMcbbbApeEvgmWWYBbMJoW8JihEXAKVg/s640/bunk.jpg" /></a></div>Those bunk beds are currently on order, and due to arrive next month on Friday the 13th. What could possibly go wrong? I have to attend a training course on Monday the 16th to teach me how to recruit people without ending up in court for my bad decisions, but I then have four days annual leave in which to throw out 90% of the kids' worldly possessions, take Toby's dilapidated cot to the tip, and single-handedly build a set of bunk beds.<br />
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My aim is for the children's bedroom to look more like the one in that picture, and less like the junk shop below...<br />
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Obviously it will still feature my mother-in-law in a cowboy hat - that's pretty much unavoidable - but she'll look less like a cowboy in an Indian slum.<br />
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Achieving this miracle might require getting rid of the children for a while...<br />
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... and ironically, building a set of bunk beds would be a lot easier if we didn't have children at all, but I'll give them the address of the nearest Travelodge, and we'll trust the rest to luck.<br />
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Anyhoo, the fact that I'm now going a fortnight between blog posts is a measure of how crazy my life has become. I had a day off on Monday, and spent most of it working from home. I did, however, manage to whisk my wife away for lunch at the marina...<br />
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That's a pizza oven in the background, not a condom in my ear.<br />
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As for the weekends, we're now taking Amelie to swimming lessons, gymnastics, and - from next Saturday onwards - cheerleading. The aim is to build up her activities to the point where we don't see her.<br />
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We also have to factor in the odd Frozen party...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyR4dYFM4uzAbUeegYJuAFLVM2ZxADMBNeEinlTI-JF66qBvtbeUsZMBAwtF9eLuO6EjTcYSFYZwYjdrrKLyJZPr9pPskQ55oHegPkBBmY4i5U42IruuMzJlvUNKbW9hwTgOjhA/s1600/Amelie+Frozen.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="540" width="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyR4dYFM4uzAbUeegYJuAFLVM2ZxADMBNeEinlTI-JF66qBvtbeUsZMBAwtF9eLuO6EjTcYSFYZwYjdrrKLyJZPr9pPskQ55oHegPkBBmY4i5U42IruuMzJlvUNKbW9hwTgOjhA/s840/Amelie+Frozen.jpg" /></a></div><br />
... and this morning we're taking her horse riding. Interestingly, I was chatting to one of the other NHS service managers before Christmas, and she asked me what my children want from Santa. I mentioned that Amelie would quite like a pony, and she started advising me on the price of tack and stabling. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I consider My Little Pony out of our price range, and the closest we'll get to buying a horse is putting two quid on the Grand National.<br />
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But that was before Lisa got a Groupon voucher for a half-price, one-off riding lesson. We're getting an hour for fifteen quid. It's usually thirty. And cheerleading is three. Suffice it to say, she'll be getting pom-poms long before a saddle.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-71008688436894795012015-01-11T19:27:00.000+00:002015-01-11T19:29:42.321+00:00According to <a href="http://www.hti.org.uk/pdfs/pu/IssuesPaper7.pdf" target="_blank">this paper by Sir Digby Jones</a>, the former Director General of the CBI and biggest dog in the world, it's important to expose children to risk and encourage their natural thirst for adventure, so that they can build confidence, courage and coping skills. As the study says, <i>"Overprotecting our children – swaddling them in cotton wool – is bad for society, the economy and young people’s preparation for adulthood in a world full of uncertainties"</i>.<br />
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So I like to spend my weekends watching Amelie try to kill her brother...<br />
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<center><iframe width="500" height="281" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/CYNZ6x09e6Q?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></center><br />
To be honest, the only natural thirst Amelie has is for fizzy drinks, but the way Toby keeps shouting <i>"Higher!"</i> when he's on the verge of catastrophic injury does indicate that he's got the adventurous spirit. And no common sense.<br />
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In reality of course, that's what they call 'managed risk'. The ground is a lot softer, and my children's heads a lot harder, than they appear. I've also weighed up the risk-reward ratio of an appearance on You've Been Framed. So frankly everything's under control.<br />
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But on the subject of near-death experiences, here's an ambulance upside down...<br />
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If you think Toby was taking a risk on that swing, try taking a photo on your phone whilst driving past fifteen policemen.<br />
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That was the A23 just outside Brighton on Thursday evening, where an ambulance was doing an impression of a dead fly on the northbound carriageway. Fortunately, I was going south. <a href="http://www.theargus.co.uk/news/11713966.Two_injured_but_discharged_from_hospital_after_ambulance_crash/" target="_blank">According to The Argus</a>, the ambulance was heading for The Royal Marsden, which is ironic as that's where I'd just come from. I'm glad I didn't ask them for a lift.<br />
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I had a meeting in Chelsea on Thursday with the head of something important, whose office is just off the Kings Road. It gave me the chance to stand here, and wonder how my life could have turned out if I'd been more like Tracey Emin...<br />
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Less tidy, probably. The circle line was up the creek, so rather than getting off at Sloane Square, I walked from Victoria, taking in the National Audit Office...<br />
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... which could clearly do with a clean, before passing numerous exclusive boutiques, and <a href="http://artisanduchocolat.com/" target="_blank">an extremely nice chocolate shop</a>, which tempted me to open my mouth but not my wallet.<br />
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It's been a particularly productive working week, which included my first full Saturday, and has left today as a one-day weekend, but the pot of gold at the end of the traffic jam...<br />
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... has been the hiring of a potential superstar for my already glittering team. No one has had a more successful Saturday in Wimbledon since Martina Navratilova retired.<br />
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So I returned home yesterday evening on a high, impaled my daughter on a pole outside Asda, and did the weekly shop...<br />
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After which Amelie stole my iPhone, downloaded a McDonalds app she'd seen advertised on her Happy Meal, and took this photo of Toby...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsH-z9m2lMkBMF3Tox2EG2QNjBmjMYIvjRkDC5_JOSz1s2UUF-paLOOskdyVZvvmc17km0Eb_lYNe7ewRWcAxOYyL0P1W_tdee3qsbJfLu0B7nDnpiNi15tXP_X9_E9w3DUBDWw/s1600/01ee08da5a2e407406ac73c6062620a479bce435d4.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsH-z9m2lMkBMF3Tox2EG2QNjBmjMYIvjRkDC5_JOSz1s2UUF-paLOOskdyVZvvmc17km0Eb_lYNe7ewRWcAxOYyL0P1W_tdee3qsbJfLu0B7nDnpiNi15tXP_X9_E9w3DUBDWw/s740/01ee08da5a2e407406ac73c6062620a479bce435d4.jpg" /></a></div><br />
He's lovin' it. And he's rocking the Dr Evil look. Which is appropriate, as he's currently destroying the world, one piece of furniture at a time.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-71304679598736908402015-01-01T14:17:00.000+00:002015-01-01T14:17:05.370+00:00It's a well known fact that Lisa and I watch a lot of foreign films. Mostly American, but also Australian, and sometimes Canadian too. As long as it's in English, we don't care. But <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2014/02/after-three-days-without-blog-post-word.html" target="_blank">it's been documented here before</a> that in addition to their excellent pastries, we're also partial to a bit of Danish drama. So with last night being New Year's Eve, and the spirit of celebration coursing through our veins, we thought hey, what better way to see in 2015 than with a bit of child sex abuse. And subtitles.<br />
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Happy New Year, by the way.<br />
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Oddly, Lisa and I weren't invited to any New Year's Eve parties yesterday, which was handy, as it saved us the trouble of coming up with excuses not to go. Ironically, I had a good one this year, as I'd returned from St Leonards yesterday, only to head straight to the doctor's. In addition to spending Christmas with a cold, a touch of sinusitis, and a son who's like a Gremlin after midnight, 2014 drew to a close with the recurrence of <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2009/09/i-know-what-youre-thinking.html" target="_blank">this old chestnut</a>. It's my greatest hit, and likes to be re-released every couple of years.<br />
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As well as <a href="http://www.mulledwhines.net/2014/09/you-know-what-its-like.html" target="_blank">giving me floppy eyes</a>, the tamsulosin I've been on for five years has kept my prostatitis under control, and I've not needed antibiotics since 2012. But that all changed on Tuesday, and as of yesterday afternoon, I'm back on the trimethoprim. And feeling better already.<br />
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So having popped a pill on New Year's Eve, the scene was set for a night of fun and ecstasy, and we ended up watching this...<br />
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As the poster says, <i>"this is cinema that sinks it's claws into your back"</i>. Much like every cat I've ever owned. I'll be writing to Robbie Collin of The Telegraph about the correct use of apostrophe's, but that aside, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hunt_%282012_film%29" target="_blank">The Hunt</a> was a very good film. You can track it down on Netflix. In common with many Danish films, it features quite a lot of Fanny, but only because that's the name of the main character's dog.<br />
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Anyhoo, Lisa and I both enjoyed it, but it <b>has</b> reduced the chances of either of us volunteering at Beavers. Not that I'll have time in 2015, as my new year's resolution is to get into graffiti. I'm going to <a href="http://7secvidsu4.net/graffiti/" target="_blank">vandalise buildings with moss</a>. I've got some yoghurt in the fridge, so I'm just a few weeks away from having a sign on the front door like this...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHbLaWv0tiz3Bi3BV669LqS9d654MRJLhKQc4Kpxw_2-E6W0UQAuQQHFnjXIw0OWk2n71Wu8TaIIIHw0x88kDo2AJL3iqmJ2yJvctbAED2HFH1edTqO048mZN-diDfCacI3XukQ/s1600/moss_graffiti.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHbLaWv0tiz3Bi3BV669LqS9d654MRJLhKQc4Kpxw_2-E6W0UQAuQQHFnjXIw0OWk2n71Wu8TaIIIHw0x88kDo2AJL3iqmJ2yJvctbAED2HFH1edTqO048mZN-diDfCacI3XukQ/s500/moss_graffiti.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Except ours will be better. Let's face it, when it comes to moss graffiti, The Gardners is far more appropriate.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-67434601232567516082014-12-30T14:30:00.003+00:002014-12-30T14:34:23.140+00:00People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOd9HUPdWqxjjYbGLzf61GjXd4F8nBTnjQXuzUHK319DAejXs9iH2MsoRghgytImf9P4M5z658DQxOs87-ooArEsKgGw-IxavZoCvzk9XpvY1wAN3FhQYoTHcfxfsu6vtOoCVv0Q/s1600/photo+3.JPG" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOd9HUPdWqxjjYbGLzf61GjXd4F8nBTnjQXuzUHK319DAejXs9iH2MsoRghgytImf9P4M5z658DQxOs87-ooArEsKgGw-IxavZoCvzk9XpvY1wAN3FhQYoTHcfxfsu6vtOoCVv0Q/s800/photo+3.JPG" /></a></div><br />
But if you're on a public beach with your sister, you're free to fire at will. Fortunately, Toby's about as aimless as his mother, and couldn't hit a barn door from ten paces, so I was probably at more risk of being injured than Amelie.<br />
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Anyhoo, since Boxing Day evening, my family and I have been holed-up in St Leonards, eating everything we can lay our hands on. We've been joined on this gastronomic adventure by both my siblings and their respective loved ones, but to be honest, none of them have eaten as much as I have. I'm single-handedly illustrating the diabetes time bomb.<br />
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On the plus side, the fact that everyone was here meant they could all contribute to my Christmas present, which this year was <a href="http://www.wdc.com/en/products/products2.aspx?id=1140#Tab1" target="_blank">a cloud</a>...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-tYnJx7B3r7Y4F5ab2LlZaqUnxySWvqR-J-nrCo6FIg1g2jzK74S0gclWBNu_q62DWH8kOXROBcLVTa8kvs_oqg8MHYWDXrp1xzHO3M8BJZNGv1tAH1kjurfINQfYUSwewpg7eg/s1600/WD_MyCloud.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-tYnJx7B3r7Y4F5ab2LlZaqUnxySWvqR-J-nrCo6FIg1g2jzK74S0gclWBNu_q62DWH8kOXROBcLVTa8kvs_oqg8MHYWDXrp1xzHO3M8BJZNGv1tAH1kjurfINQfYUSwewpg7eg/s1600/WD_MyCloud.jpg" /></a></div>I wanted nine, but I only got one. Obviously I've had my own personal cloud for quite some time, but it's been more like Perkin's in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Wh64XSkwwM" target="_blank">that episode of The Flumps</a>. This one will enable me to access photos of myself from anywhere in the world, which can only be a good thing.<br />
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Sadly, I'm not contributing much to that store at the moment, as I was so busy packing my camera batteries, battery charger and camera-PC link lead, that I forgot to pack my camera. So I'm restricted to taking selfies with my iPhone...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqnf9y2V1TmUrVngmqGXvoJnLlWiOmNOBcw49_EQmQMDb4-Smj6PPIgBRr7OCpRRHZfGwlESxBTG7TwqULIhNlLWoJiVxjyLgxpE53vCvsajlGfcbPddBqD4IUJjspQJ825jYoA/s1600/photo+6.JPG" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" width="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqnf9y2V1TmUrVngmqGXvoJnLlWiOmNOBcw49_EQmQMDb4-Smj6PPIgBRr7OCpRRHZfGwlESxBTG7TwqULIhNlLWoJiVxjyLgxpE53vCvsajlGfcbPddBqD4IUJjspQJ825jYoA/s840/photo+6.JPG" /></a></div><br />
I'm an elf service manager, so I'm expected to wear clothes like that.<br />
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Amongst the highlights of the festive season was of course mine and Amelie's performance of 'Love is an Open Door', which was not only a musical triumph, but also demonstrated that Amelie really needs a microphone if she's going to stand any chance of being heard above the foghorn voice of her father. She was drowned out for most of the song by the sheer force of my personality. I was like George Michael to her Andrew Ridgeley. Video footage of the event was posted online without my permission, and I'm currently pursuing legal channels to have it removed, but in the meantime I'm optimistic that we'll be on Britain's Got Talent in the spring.<br />
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Big Sis and her sidekick went home on Sunday, but the rest of us battled on into yesterday, enjoying a trip to the De La Warr Pavilion in Bexhill...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSD2bc-kxrMWihvRpRlyW0OkloPeYCY3AhSOhL5B0MhzWjp2DhrBpYDArqBWXD2sJP17vPEJdH4XbXqA4cNCJmuKIN8Fa99rBehT-7i_gX-IoSnMCcvGU5BfqUeX_DFaJDZlb4vw/s1600/photo+01.JPG" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSD2bc-kxrMWihvRpRlyW0OkloPeYCY3AhSOhL5B0MhzWjp2DhrBpYDArqBWXD2sJP17vPEJdH4XbXqA4cNCJmuKIN8Fa99rBehT-7i_gX-IoSnMCcvGU5BfqUeX_DFaJDZlb4vw/s800/photo+01.JPG" /></a></div><br />
The pensioners on the prom are my parents, and the girl with cold ankles my niece. The old man is my brother. The rest of my family were busy throwing stones at each other, just out of shot. Personally I was keen to experience <a href="http://www.dlwp.com/event/the-nakeds" target="_blank">a bit of culture</a>, but the only person who wanted to see the art with me was Amelie, and I wasn't keen on answering her questions.<br />
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We did venture inside the pavilion for an ice cream, but having seen the prices, we soon ventured back out again and headed down the road (and down market) to the nearby Poppins restaurant, where I fought Toby for a banana boat, and Amelie texted all her friends with pictures of her milkshake...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Kw5EzBBN7aiGZi8JZEYeB23N3BefQmYBmvSlRV7E7RcDkOh1kbcir35R4C-AHZfu3Mtu7G0AYLPscbYpCBZKuusaaa3vqiafEOtWpXfj2CIhICEVzIf8wpH518FkT2uTA_NUww/s1600/photo+4.JPG" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="520" width="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Kw5EzBBN7aiGZi8JZEYeB23N3BefQmYBmvSlRV7E7RcDkOh1kbcir35R4C-AHZfu3Mtu7G0AYLPscbYpCBZKuusaaa3vqiafEOtWpXfj2CIhICEVzIf8wpH518FkT2uTA_NUww/s840/photo+4.JPG" /></a></div><br />
We did lose my Dad for half an hour, after he gave us the slip and made a break for it down Bexhill high street, but we soon located him, and dragged him back inside, where he was forced to endure a cheap sausage roll with the rest of us.<br />
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Tonight, however, it's me and Lisa who will be making a bid for freedom. I've promised her an all-expenses-paid trip to Pizza Express on the proceeds from my new job. Not my salary, obviously, but the Clubcard points from my petrol. It seemed like the least I could do.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-782925896487043962014-12-26T11:44:00.003+00:002014-12-26T11:44:36.268+00:00I've never seen the kids so happy...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhMgZpzBPSp02VuRLVhGC9Jm4puG7lq4MYohh4Z46QC3WwSpmBfuUtuiSMrv9o3bcgseikDxaDT_gn1u9Vwa_AyRCRjrCb_bmfGzIOfoAitstysjq6PsuYKXY3BsKVSKsQZCxlTw/s1600/06+Christmas+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhMgZpzBPSp02VuRLVhGC9Jm4puG7lq4MYohh4Z46QC3WwSpmBfuUtuiSMrv9o3bcgseikDxaDT_gn1u9Vwa_AyRCRjrCb_bmfGzIOfoAitstysjq6PsuYKXY3BsKVSKsQZCxlTw/s800/06+Christmas+2014.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Obviously there are more chins than people in that photo, so not <b><i>all</i></b> of us were happy, but that aside, we managed to get through Christmas Day without too many tears, breakdowns and punch-ups. Here's Toby showing his heartfelt appreciation for our generosity by politely requesting another gift...<br />
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Having opened them all, and left wrapping paper everywhere, he then looked around at the living room floor and said <i>"Mess"</i>. Before expecting us to clear it all up.<br />
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But to be honest, they did seem to like their presents. For a while, at least. Amongst Amelie's 'Most Wanted' this year was the big-eared character on the right...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp578p23sV2NSbt6pkybNw2BJpbnJgmE33VDDf_oMCshamm-nBIadvg44nCN2DJXGO95_jktzj0JX9vfgwRC0jUxIwrt8_TWFmRPfaSivLGL_wDRnLSsd1BuEXJa5iSOFy9U8xzA/s1600/03+Christmas+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="375" width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp578p23sV2NSbt6pkybNw2BJpbnJgmE33VDDf_oMCshamm-nBIadvg44nCN2DJXGO95_jktzj0JX9vfgwRC0jUxIwrt8_TWFmRPfaSivLGL_wDRnLSsd1BuEXJa5iSOFy9U8xzA/s800/03+Christmas+2014.jpg" /></a></div><br />
That's a Furby Boom, a delightful (and surprisingly pricey) creation which has been carefully designed to annoy adults and give small children hideous nightmares. Its drawbacks are perfectly highlighted by <a href="http://www.amommystory.com/2013/01/what-happens-when-your-furby-becomes-evil.html" target="_blank">this blog post</a>, which I discovered last night after a brief Google search that I carried out whilst comforting Amelie at the computer and trying to reassure her that despite all impressions to the contrary, her Furby probably wouldn't kill her the moment she got within three feet of it.<br />
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Fortunately she cheered up and calmed down enough to go to bed, and we had twenty enjoyable minutes of blissful peace and quiet before she got up in tears, convinced that an army of angry Furbies was coming to get her in the darkness. Furby actually spent the night on a shelf by the front door, which is as close to being out with the rubbish as I could bear for something which had just cost me more than forty quid.<br />
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We might have paid for our lack of due diligence where Furby Boom is concerned, but fortunately we had more luck with an impulse buy I made down at the marina last weekend. Despite being aimed at kids aged 6 and above, I saw this remote control car for under a tenner, and picked it up for Toby...<br />
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He spent most of the afternoon trying to run over his sister, and refusing to let anyone else drive. He's like a two-year-old Jeremy Clarkson.<br />
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But the real star this Christmas, the saviour, the bringer of joy, elf and happiness, has been my deer wife, Lisa. There's snow one like her. Starting a new job in November has changed my life in numerous ways, and meant that Christmas has dropped way down my To-Do list, just below hiring new staff, ordering an OCT machine, and buying a dozen new computers. I've been out for 12 hours a day, busy most weekends, and working right up to Christmas Eve. Which means that Lisa has been left holding the baby Jesus.<br />
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But rather than forgetting Christmas this year (which, let's face it, I have), Lisa has single-handedly ordered all the presents, written all the cards, and liaised with my family about our festive arrangements. The fact that any of my relatives are getting gifts this year is entirely down to her. My only contribution was to visit Santa and ask him to pay for it all.<br />
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Lisa's done all of this whilst wrangling an over-excited six-year-old and a toddler who's putting the deafening <b>"ERR!!!"</b> into 'Terrible Twos' for thirteen hours a day. And she hasn't once complained. Possibly because she's too exhausted. The happy smiles on those kids' faces, and the fact that I've still had a Christmas to enjoy this year, is all thanks to my beautiful wife. She's done an amazing job, and I love her more than words can say. In fact, I regret not buying her a present now.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-4944703920639411362014-12-25T12:16:00.001+00:002014-12-25T12:20:25.623+00:00Shots from the new Christmas film, 'Camp & Camper'...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWRUAIXfVzbYSCBc38-0Oc9u2BCa7TKqVDogpk_BguQabBKMb0hnn-LnSr1wIbUIdU3f4WaqPOhK6dt-hlydeyj56kDGrUWhjdNX-j501RDTyC5HiISk_e7h3cu8afFB0XPNxbg/s1600/01+Christmas+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsWRUAIXfVzbYSCBc38-0Oc9u2BCa7TKqVDogpk_BguQabBKMb0hnn-LnSr1wIbUIdU3f4WaqPOhK6dt-hlydeyj56kDGrUWhjdNX-j501RDTyC5HiISk_e7h3cu8afFB0XPNxbg/s740/01+Christmas+2014.jpg" height="375" width="500" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYboqtRcv93me44ADSoGjqQsPbHt7fG34aeAPpu_5oh6D3_9PJO2G4Xfx5CDypy_bq4vNzaakx3ZIDcGFr6BwH41uEMF8huUd2beEvyCkG1SfH9gk8vUl6-_SMJ52Y2hHHkQ6FQ/s1600/02+Christmas+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuYboqtRcv93me44ADSoGjqQsPbHt7fG34aeAPpu_5oh6D3_9PJO2G4Xfx5CDypy_bq4vNzaakx3ZIDcGFr6BwH41uEMF8huUd2beEvyCkG1SfH9gk8vUl6-_SMJ52Y2hHHkQ6FQ/s740/02+Christmas+2014.jpg" height="375" width="500" /></a></div><center><b><span style="font-size: large;">Merry Christmas, everyone!</span></b></center>Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-12193301725232795522014-12-21T15:23:00.001+00:002014-12-21T15:23:12.742+00:00As I suspected, Amelie and I were pretty much word-and-note-perfect on our first run-through of 'Love is an Open Door'. The extended family are in for a real treat on Boxing Day. We're like Renée and Renato, but with better dance moves. Unfortunately, and with great personal sadness, I can't actually supply any video evidence of our musical tour de force just yet, owing to the fact that I've gone down with a heavy cold in the past twenty-four hours, and no one really wants to hear the part of Hans voiced by Barry White. But trust me, we're good.<br />
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On the downside, I wasted a lot of time printing out the lyrics, and putting Amelie's lines in red, mine in blue, and our joint lines in purple, only to discover that Amelie knows them all anyway. She also does a mean 'Let It Go', which she'll be performing as an encore on Boxing Day while I pop to the bathroom to wash the rotten tomatoes off my Christmas jumper. I can't wait.<br />
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In the meantime, and with just four sleeps to go, we've finally met the big man himself...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-glfhjJNYkIOngZg4SU5vL7qoudVLVHebAMUUg-M4qpjh7UO8O-EfdsRr1oc2KwqXBnx8pOdNFyN5FoItEFPzj4WFRCcvKl-fseDuCvI2UIt-aJx8snVeAVVcvrI86mbhItLUrg/s1600/Am+Santa+2014.jpg" target="_blank" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="560" width="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-glfhjJNYkIOngZg4SU5vL7qoudVLVHebAMUUg-M4qpjh7UO8O-EfdsRr1oc2KwqXBnx8pOdNFyN5FoItEFPzj4WFRCcvKl-fseDuCvI2UIt-aJx8snVeAVVcvrI86mbhItLUrg/s940/Am+Santa+2014.jpg" /></a></div><br />
He's currently residing in a garden shed at the South Downs Nurseries in Hassocks. And he hasn't changed a bit in the last two years...<br />
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Although he's got rid of the office chair, and given his beard a loose perm.<br />
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We don't like to hassle the man, so we didn't go to visit him last Christmas, but after a two year trial separation, we were naturally pretty excited to bump into him again yesterday. This was Amelie in the queue beforehand...<br />
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And this was me...<br />
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There's obviously only a subtle difference between my excited face and my King Kong face...<br />
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... but I think Santa could tell the difference. I didn't get a present myself, but having been told by the nearest elf that my daughter was a six-year-old called Amelie, he welcomed her warmly into the grotto, called her Emily and gave her a game for eight-year-olds and over. He then believed her when she said she'd been good. I'm beginning to wonder if he was the real deal after all.Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3409973.post-56027366510327079862014-12-20T11:06:00.000+00:002014-12-20T11:10:43.528+00:00There comes a time in every young man's life when he's tempted to try cross-dressing...<br />
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Toby might only be wearing his Mum's slippers, but by heck, he's <b><i>loving</i></b> it. I'm the same with Lisa's bras.<br />
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Of course, he's not the only one dressing up at the moment. Amelie has spent a lot of the build-up to Christmas looking sheepish with a group of ram-raiders...<br />
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I think the one on the right is saying <i>"I love ewe"</i>. Personally I'd give her the chop. You can't pull the wool over <b>my</b> eyes, and I think my daughter's being fleeced.<br />
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Anyhoo, one person who definitely <b><i>isn't</i></b> mutton dressed as lamb is my mother, who celebrated her birthday on Wednesday, so <b>HAPPY BIRTHDAY</b> to her. I'm only saying that because I was up to my ears in work all day, and completely forgot to phone her. But hey, it's the thought that counts. Although I didn't give her one of those either.<br />
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The good news, however, is that after seven weeks of work-craziness, I'm now officially getting into the Christmas spirit. I was up before dawn this morning, watching <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Search_for_Santa_Paws" target="_blank">The Search for Santa Paws</a> on Netflix with the kids. They were fairly unmoved (although Toby did feel moved enough to chuck baubles at the TV), but frankly I was blubbing like a baby. It's not every film that features a cute five-year-old singing about the death of her parents on the steps of the orphanage a week before Christmas. I think the only reason it went straight to video was because the cinemas couldn't supply enough tissues.<br />
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The other thing currently reducing me to tears is the thought of having to go to Asda on the weekend before Christmas, but I'm putting that to the back of my mind, and attempting to solve the problem by writing to Santa and asking him to bring me a loaf of bread. Let's face it, he won't be bringing Amelie anything, because with a week to go before the big day, she's suddenly changed her name by deed poll. For reasons which completely escape me, she's now calling herself Ameelieamelie. She's a bit like Marky Mark and Flava Flav, but with more talent.<br />
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It means we've started to receive cards like this...<br />
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And formal notices like this one...<br />
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If Banksy would only follow her example, Clacton council could have saved themselves a lot of embarrassment.<br />
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Anyhoo, I'm working right up to Christmas Eve this year, so I'll be arriving home with Santa on Wednesday, but I plan to spend this weekend immersed in festive preparations. Lisa's in charge of the presents, the wrapping, the shopping, the cooking and the cleaning, while I'm in charge of this year's Christmas turn. I plan to get Amelie to perform a duet of '<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nPImqZo0D74" target="_blank">Love is an Open Door</a>' with me. I've already downloaded the karaoke backing track and printed out the lyrics. We're both quite musically talented, so I don't expect it'll take us long. I'm thinking maybe twenty minutes rehearsal time, and we'll have it off pat. Watch this space...Philhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08307148664977452940noreply@blogger.com3