Tomorrow...

We are going crab fishing off the harbour in Brixham.
We are going to eat fish and chips with seagulls whirling all around us goading us into throwing a few chips into the air.
We will have a paddle in the icy cold sea.
There will be sand castles.
We will drive over Dartmoor and I will point out the huge granite tors to a pair of uninterested children.
We will arrive at the lighthouse.
There will be a wifi connection that is reliable (yay!).
There will be photo's posted on the blog.
We will have pasta puttanesca cooked by eldest daughter.
There will be gin and tonic at the top of the lightouse for everyone over 18 (i.e. me).
There will be contemplation of impending 40th birthday ....but not in bad way.

Holiday happiness.

Reasons to love a caravan holiday

1. The shop on the site does not sell any fresh vegetables but it does sell the biggest jars of hair gel known to man.
2. You need never wonder what it is like to have a shower inside a coffin again.
3. The fridge is tiny and you may panic that there is nowhere to stick your wine box but due to lack of fresh veg (see above) you can use the veg drawer for your wine.
4. When there is a particularly strong gust of wind the whole caravan shakes which is an added trill.
5. The ornaments in the caravan. There would be a picture here but the wifi in the "Oceana" club refuses to upload it. Imagine glorious blue dolphins.
6. This is the only place where your children can meet a man dressed in a fox costume and feel very excited about it.
7. Its been sunny all day here and it has rained back home.
8. The kids feel like they are having an adventure.
9. Hey, you feel like you are having and adventure. People are drinking blue drinks here...

Four hours in a car with kids

We are here. Phase one of the holiday. A caravan in Brixham on the south coast of England. Home for the next five days looks like this...

My two lessons of the day are as follows:

1. When putting a post code into your newly acquired satnav check it is the right postcode. So if you actually want to travel to the headquarters of the holiday company that you are staying with go ahead and use the postcode at the top of the receipt. Otherwise you might want to look a little further down the receipt and find the postcode of the site you actually staying at.
2. When deciding to give a child complete responsibility for a bottle of water in the back of the car (especially a small child, especially a child with co-ordination difficulties) you might want to check that the lid is on before they wave it over their head. Otherwise small child will end up suddenly covered in water. Which will be quite a shock to them. And you.

More tomorrow from the caravan park....

This weekend...

...I have been mainly sitting in traffic jams in a boiling hot car with two boiling hot children. Not one traffic jam but three separate ones on three separate days. Needless to say the car has no air conditioning and we chose one of the hottest weekends this year to visit my mother in Smallgrimtown-upon-Slagheap. The only saving grace of travelling at 3 miles an hour on the motorway was that we could wind the windows down in an attempt to cool down in some car fume infested breeze.

...I also discovered that zero key on my laptop has stopped working. This had two consequences. First I could not get online at the cut price hotel we were staying at because to do that I would have to pay £5 per hour and to do that I would have to put my card number in which of course contains a zero. Bah and double bah. Second my parentheses now have no end. I can start like so (but I cannot finish . So henceforth I am designating this - ^ to be my close brackets. For example: I thought £5 per hour for internet access was eminently reasonable (who am I kidding - what a bloody rip off!!^

...I was relieved that mother lived up to reputation of supplying at least one good line per trip. Last time she informed me that she had been to the cinema to see "Alcoholic Shopping". I thought it sounded like a brilliant idea for a film, or possibly a way of life, until I realised that she meant "Confessions of a Shopaholic". This time she told me that I didn't look like I was going to be 37. Which was a lovely compliment , especially since I will be forty next week. One might think that of all people you could rely on your mother to remember your age but apparently not so.

...I am currently praying to the god of traffic jams that we have done our time and that we can go on holiday tomorrow without being stuck in any more queues. While I am at it I have also asked the packing fairy to pop by and sort out our bags.

...I am wondering whether it is possible that someone has broken into my house and stolen only the suitcases.

Survivor

Thats me. Survivor of the epidemic that appears to have spread like wildfire through our house. Nothing serious. Well actually depending upon your view point it might be the most serious thing that ever could happen to you. Lurve - thats what I'm talking about. Cupids arrow. The mysteries of the heart. The communion of two souls. All that stuff.

Youngest was first to show symptoms. She announced yesterday evening that she was in love with Oliver. Not only that but she would be marrying him in the summer under the tree in the playing field at school. I was invited but I would need to wear a pretty dress which would need to be bought specially for the occassion - clearly my current wardrobe is not deemed to be up to scratch. Even more importantly Oliver WAS NOT aware of this plan and nor was he aware of the fact that that THERE WOULD BE KISSING. Under no circumstances was I allowed to reveal this information to Oliver - not a hard promise to keep since I am by no means certain exactly which small boy he is in the class of seven year olds which youngest is in.

Disconcertingly eldest is also showing signs of having been infected. When she snuggled next to me on the sofa last night her mobile phone came too. Whilst that may not be unusual for a lot of twelve year olds it is distinctly odd for eldest. She has an almost unnatural reluctance to switch her phone on which I can't really explain other than some desire to preserve the limited life force of the phone. I swear that I have explained that batteries can be recharged and everything but she really doesn't seem to want to believe me. Anyway phone came to sofa too. And low and behold .....messages were received and sent. More than that, potential messages were checked for even when they weren't there. All became clear when I saw the new screen saver. Picture of friends had been banished and replaced with "I heart Harry". This is where it all starts I thought.

I remember the intoxicating adrenaline rush of my first love. We didn't have text in those days. We were both 11. He was called Stephen and sent me a valentine card. I gave him piggy backs in the playground. It was a summer love. Short, intense, built on a shared appreciation of a certain type of bacon flavour crisp which you can't buy anymore. It didn't last of course. But it was so innocent and sweet and intense.

I almost felt envy but not quite. My heart has been through enough. I'm not sure I would have the strength to start again from the beginning again.

We have the technology, we can rebuild it

It is walk to school week this week. Which is fortunate as the car is currently in the garage having major surgery. Such major surgery that in fact I did wonder whether to let it just pass away quietly and send it to the great scrap heap in the sky. But we need a car for our holiday next week and the thought of buying a new car in a week just filled me with horror. So its being mended as we speak.

Whats more it does feel a bit like one of the family. Its the first car I bought all by myself for a massive £450. I like the way it has got actual bits of bare metal on the top. I like the way it brings down the tone of the road I live on. I like the way that white is my least favourite colour in a car but driving it makes me feel like a cop in a terrible '80's drama. I like the way the sunroof doesn't shut properly when opened. I like the way I forget that at the beginning of every summer and wonder to myself why I don't open the sun roof more (yep, did it again this year, had to rope in brother-in-law to help me close it). I like the way it took me and the girls all the way down to the south of France a couple of years ago. I like the way how, on the trip down, eldest could pay the tolls from the passenger seat side because, you guessed it, the drivers window doesn't work either. I particularly like the fact that the satnav will be worth more than the car. I like the fact that I have forgotten to lock it like a hundred times but it is so knackered that no-one has ever tried to nick it. I like the fact that early one morning I once found a well dressed young man asleep on the backseat who presumably was unable to make it home after a night out. I particularly like the fact that after I kicked him out and he had rather sheepishly apologised he had the gall to ask which way I was driving so I might take him home.

And in case you are wondering why I am sad enough to take a picture of my car, I'm not. Eldest daughter did. I can only assume that she feels the same way about it as I do.

Things I have bought myself for my 40th birthday....so far

I have discovered that one of the chief pleasures of not having a significant other (detest that phrase, husband, boyfriend, bedwarmer, snuggle bunny, wine bottle opener what ever you prefer) is that there is absolutely no guilt in buying yourself birthday presents. I never thought to buy myself presents when the husbands were around. Not to say that either of the husbands was bad at presents. Its just when you buy your own you get exactly what you want.

Anyway, moving on to the list:

1. Two holidays, one after the other. Cheesy tacky caravan (the chief pleasure of which is the "clubhouse" where all food comes in a basket and the entertainment consists of a man in a giant chicken costume - best enjoyed with several large glasses of pinot grigio and a healthy dose of irony) followed by slightly more refined lighthouse weekend (will post some pictures for Polly)


2. Satnav in order to get to these places without having to rely on map reading by 12 year old.


3. Dog -theoretically for children but all the pester power in the world would not stand a chance if I wasn't secretly fulfilling my lifetime ambition to own a dog.


4. Ticket to Copenhagen to partake in the madness/creative frenzy that is Blogcamp. Could be the only chance I have in my life to learn belly dancing and knitting in one weekend whilst eating/slurping a gin and tonic sorbet.


5. Tattoo. Dragonfly on hip. I am very pleased with it especially since it meant I got to wrap myself in clingfilm - something I have always wanted to do although not necessarily whilst youngest daughter watched me with a look of mild surprise on her face.

It's still a couple of weeks away so doubt there will be more excuses for presents to me....me....me