tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64983270580285502442024-02-20T18:36:58.013-08:00PantoMumI have 3 boys aged 16, 13 and 10 (enough said).Our life is one big pantomime...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-83291689352905166122015-08-26T10:23:00.000-07:002015-08-26T10:23:58.907-07:00To Flee or Not to Flee<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So
yesterday we woke up and the dog had a bald patch right by his tail. I took him
to the vet and they found a solitary flea. (This is despite all the pets using
the vet approved flea combo treatment). It turns out that although the flea
liked our dog, our dog is allergic to flea bites. And because of this weird
weather we’ve been having, the traditional treatment or ‘Spot On’ is ineffective.
I left with my wallet considerably lighter, and him on antibiotics and a
massive tablet to get rid of the flea, plus an enormous house spray for all the
other friends that this flea may or may not have brought in. Before I left, the
vet asked me to bring in the cats so that she could check them over, and if
they also had little friends she would give me a tablet each for them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘Tablets?’
I said feebly – ‘Can we not just have the much stronger Spot On that you
recommended?’ I agreed on the proviso that
she would administer the tablets as I know what hissing scratching fighters
these fluffy balls of fur become, and she said confidently that she had a very
good success rate with the most stubborn of cats. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Today it
poured down. I drove back from work
through 8 rivers that had materialized on the roads over the course of 4
hours. Cars were aquaplaning, breakdown
vehicles were scattered throughout various points of my journey and several
times the whole car was submerged in splash backs from the puddles I was in, or
cars travelling in the other lane. Cars were abandoned in side streets where
rushing water hurtled against closed garage doors. My 4 x 4 inched slowly down
our unmade road, where even the potholes were submerged under a muddy stream.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I had lined
up G to help me with the cats, who fought, legs spatchcocked as they were
posted into their cat boxes which were popped into the car as they continued
mewling furiously at the tops of their voices. Suddenly there was an overwhelming
smell of cat poo – the boy cat had messed himself in distress. We carried the cat poo smelling box and
grumpy cats into the vets. Two
greyhounds shuddered dismally as we entered and huddled together looking at the
boy cat’s box in suspicion. A poodle jumped joyously at the girl cat’s box
until she spat at his eager face. This
was not going to be easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The vet
took the girl cat out of the box. She is
a lap cat, an absolute doll and the easier to handle of the pair. She was a
dead cert. ‘Ahhh’, cooed the vet, and reached for the tablet whilst telling G
to hold the cat firmly by the shoulders.
Two broken tablet feeders later, the vet and G stood there bleeding from
scratches, whilst Lap Cat hissed silently, mouth clamped firmly tight. Boy cat,
who is a very gentle natured sun lover, but doesn’t tolerate too much handling,
came out of his box which was speedily despatched to be cleaned up as she
attempted to check him over. He was
having none of it, the indignity of his situation was just too much. He sank his claws into her arm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We went
home with the stronger Spot On which is applied to the back of their necks and kills
everything bug related. The vet agreed that
it was a much better idea after all.
Peace amongst the felines has resumed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So now I am
seriously thinking of buying an Ark, where we and the animals can live in case
these floods get worse. But there’ll be
one creature in God’s world which won’t be on that boat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKLwNmmT2-IjEZCDMRwS3coMiq3EgA1ZVrwej8FH1X9OODmgOc0VBWip1mxeauRtiKZ06R3SGmR_e5S8okaYed7q0I8bFwIJR9_9WrzCCNJGMYzkTOdZO-AIRcErA8nQ8XAzReNvq4T0s/s1600/upstairs+downstairs+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKLwNmmT2-IjEZCDMRwS3coMiq3EgA1ZVrwej8FH1X9OODmgOc0VBWip1mxeauRtiKZ06R3SGmR_e5S8okaYed7q0I8bFwIJR9_9WrzCCNJGMYzkTOdZO-AIRcErA8nQ8XAzReNvq4T0s/s320/upstairs+downstairs+001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I’ve got
enough spray to make them all flee…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-59514893091764182342015-08-18T05:12:00.000-07:002015-08-18T05:38:31.237-07:00Summer holidays - the hamster wheel<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The hamster
on the wheel - Summer holidays always have that effect– great fun, but
absolutely knackering. And when you get
through them you don’t know which direction to walk (in the case of Mums with
school age kids, it is generally en masse, in the direction of Costa). And everyone says abstractedly as they clutch
on to real life once more ‘Did you have a good Summer?’ and you reply, equally
distracted as you watch the rearguard disappearing in a rapidly forming cloud of
dust over to the coffee shop ‘It was brilliant thanks, yours?’ hoping that they
don’t regale you with stories of how C accomplished
his gold badge at waterskiing and E ate a whole lobster and the most excitement
you had was that the fish shop forgot to charge you for a large chips…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_oqCPBpfBx6154EUXFL1v8pugylXxh-QzmBX8KzqcwBprmI4EkqFpsFu9NDH9vCGgOJtjMh_rJEtBe6wqJd_6U4TePIscBsQEZAVCs-tCI9QzkGhv45sfaUiIrMqNFGwfR2DthEywPDg/s1600/school+jo+and+ruth+shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_oqCPBpfBx6154EUXFL1v8pugylXxh-QzmBX8KzqcwBprmI4EkqFpsFu9NDH9vCGgOJtjMh_rJEtBe6wqJd_6U4TePIscBsQEZAVCs-tCI9QzkGhv45sfaUiIrMqNFGwfR2DthEywPDg/s320/school+jo+and+ruth+shot.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before we started school in the UK - life was one long summer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It’s a bit weird,
the whole idea of a Summer holiday. As a
child I loved it, but I am sure that my mother dreaded it. My
sister and I went to boarding school as my parents were based in Kenya, and so
it was a double whammy. My parents both
worked, and my mother was a teacher. From
living a life as a working couple during term time, once her holidays hit, we
descended, and it was a shock to the system for all of us. Not only were we continually reacquainting ourselves
with one another -often my parents didn’t recognize me because I had changed my
hair colour, or grown, or was wearing the latest UK fashions never to be seen
in Kenya (or probably in reality, the UK, I did tend to mess around with
outfits a bit) – but there was an intensity in being thrown together for that 8
weeks that meant that tempers frayed, doors slammed and voices raised. And that wasn’t Mum, that was us. She on the other hand attempted to start
where we had left off the last time, and that too didn’t work. Every three months away we had grown a
little, understood more of a world which was frankly becoming a little alien to
her, and already we had tendrils, if not roots, in another place. She met my friends sporadically, even though
they were fixtures in my life since I was 11. We had a home world and a school world.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfWx77ou5zRfX8ymecw3mL53MdAln35edFJJjUKyWWOuhWBAHKC84TYA5wCYqxjlofcIbm_BAujVFYHLjHpf38uK7DLr_1X23wvzOYopapJGPb78QqEWRk4FZZrcLxJVcFmLBJlzavno/s1600/swing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfWx77ou5zRfX8ymecw3mL53MdAln35edFJJjUKyWWOuhWBAHKC84TYA5wCYqxjlofcIbm_BAujVFYHLjHpf38uK7DLr_1X23wvzOYopapJGPb78QqEWRk4FZZrcLxJVcFmLBJlzavno/s320/swing.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me as a teenager at home in Kenya</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">This is not
so unusual – even as adults most of us have a work world and a home world. We have different personas for each. G comes home from overseeing his little empire
and immediately gets jumped on by the dog, who waits Cato style, just out of
sight and ready to tackle. This captain
of industry is then tasked by his harassed wife (who is stirring some odd
smelling stuff cooking in a pot whilst dictating into her phone a piece due in
in the morning) to take the washing out of the machine and stick it in the
drier. No one who saw him in the
management meeting in the morning would recognize this creature, bedecked in
laundry and dog hair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But I
digress… back to Summer holidays. Yes we
all love them. Yes it gives us all the
chance to get off the carousel that is the school runs, school clubs, work and
life. But we then jump on to the hamster
wheel and career off in another direction, fitting in fun, fun, fun with
maniacal smiles as we race our kids from one activity to the other, lest when
they get back to school and are asked that fated question ‘How was your Summer?’
they answer with the dreaded ‘Boring’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And so we
throw in a few downtime days, in which as a mother of teenagers you work from
home and watch them watching others play games on electronic screens. Or you
may inherit a few other kids on downtime and you can watch them watching others
play games on electronic screens. So
then you get up, and take them out, or make them go out, and it all starts
again, and the downtime day becomes costly, time consuming , constant food
providing and a little fractious for all concerned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I am of
course exaggerating with the will of a mum who has a couple of weeks to go
before life’s carousel starts again. I’ve run out of ideas and things to cook. This
holiday courtesy of my kids I have cleaned up sick and shit and visited three
hospitals. And I haven’t escaped - at
the moment I am sporting a rather attractive itchy viral rash that not only
makes me look, but feel grumpy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But despite
all this we <b>have</b> had a great summer holiday!
We’ve consolidated old friendships and made new ones. We’ve had
experiences of a lifetime waterskiing in
Majorca(no gold medals, just getting up was an achievement), canyoning in Wales,
climbing in Reading, and adventures on a boat.
We’ve seen opportunities and grabbed them, and we’ve allowed ourselves
to grow as a family with shared laughs and memories. And I have no doubt that none of these will
feature when my kids are asked ‘How was your Summer?’ And I don’t care. Because the most important thing is that we
were together, and they saw dad covered in laundry and dog hair, and mummy making
a chocolate cake without chocolate because Eldest Son had eaten it, and they
will remember it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And to
illuminate this point I asked Little Man what his favourite bit about the
summer had been – was it Majorca, Wales, the day out at HMS Victory? He
thought. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘I liked going shopping with my
friend Erin’ he said finally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Right…
where’s Costa?! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-84194189778835823882015-08-07T04:51:00.000-07:002015-08-07T05:01:44.691-07:00Teenage Holiday<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It’s like midday,
it’s teenage o’clock<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">OMG
tripping, am I wicked or wot?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Washing up,
still piled high in the sink, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What do you
mean, didn’t I stop and think?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
dishwasher’s full, duh, you know it’s clean<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Empty it?
What on earth do you mean?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Pasta? You’re
joking? To start the day, just mad!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I’ll have
cereal first so it won’t be so bad<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Yeah I’ll
come shopping, you can buy me some gear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Just wait a
minute, I’m not finished here<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I need a
shower, do Facebook, and gel up my hair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Get dressed
in some rad clothes so people don’t stare<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Text mates
to tell them what I’m going to do<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Search under
several piles to find a missing shoe<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Oh God does
the bruv have to come as well<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shopping
with him is my idea of hell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Whaddya
mean? It’s what you say and I’ve got no choice?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I’m
practically a man, and I have a voice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I can make
a stand, I know what to do<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Yeah I know
you’re busy – can’t you see I am too?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ok, I can
see you’re angry, I’m sorry, I’ll come<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Just give
me ten minutes and… </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I love you mum!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-71264396878214752572015-08-06T12:46:00.002-07:002015-08-07T05:19:27.823-07:00An adventure in Wales<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So the
holiday season is upon us and my social media pages are full of glorious
sunshine shots of faraway shores and lakes, people straddled awkwardly across
grumpy looking camels and endless photos of exotic looking drinks. It’s a
voyeurs’ fantasy land, where you can look into the downtime worlds of your
workmates, marvel at the hot dog legs that you’ve only ever seen encased in
tights at the office and for the first time see what Marg from Accounts looks
like in a bikini... And if the pictures
are of your real life friends, you look further into the photographs – that gorgeous man in the background, your trendy mate has gone holiday mad and decided to get her hair braided, the obligatory sweaty drunken shot that is deleted too late the next morning, and the cocktail shot before the mayhem started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And to be
fair, I was one of them a couple of weeks ago – off on a tried and tested break
in Mallorca, land of sun, sand and sangria, and more importantly, some of my
best and oldest friends. It was
glorious, the weather was hot and the food was perfect. The kids all got on,
and the husband discovered a blonde German (we are talking beer here…) that had
more body than the Spanish lager. Nuff
said. Some things are better left to the
imagination. And all too soon it was
over, and the second phase of our holiday began, in Wales.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Wales, famous
for its singing and sheep (we have yet to discover a singing sheep) and with a
landscape as varied as the people who live within its shores. For a relatively
small country it has produced a large number of celebrities – Tom Jones,
Katherine Zeta Jones, Anthony Hopkins, Katherine Jenkins, Michael Sheen,
Shirley Bassey, Rob Brydon, Charlotte Church to name but a few. And no matter
where they live in the world, they always come back to Wales. And why not? You
have the countryside which ranges from the tumultuous seas and mountains of
Snowdonia in the North, to the glorious sandy beaches of the Gower, and the
wind blown landscapes of the Brecon Beacons.
Gorges, secret waterfalls and caves contend for attention with metropolitan
cities, and slick modern buildings stand amongst old miners stone cottages,
impervious to both weather and change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLSGo0MNhY61HD_ufii6EUKsciXiPsqadCC4iExuZ9KtD1g8N4yCZWm1zEJuo-h_7pViUx3B_Gl4_eBnTcOwSMCWiGq7BV6vCas-PHe7wJLpq6n9zqxQNxgVZHluZ1iQHG1qx9T6Gcmc0/s1600/brecon+sheep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLSGo0MNhY61HD_ufii6EUKsciXiPsqadCC4iExuZ9KtD1g8N4yCZWm1zEJuo-h_7pViUx3B_Gl4_eBnTcOwSMCWiGq7BV6vCas-PHe7wJLpq6n9zqxQNxgVZHluZ1iQHG1qx9T6Gcmc0/s320/brecon+sheep.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First ever sighting of sheep for our half collie...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And so it
was that we headed en famille and dog to <a href="http://www.holidayinbrecon.co.uk/llwyn-llwyd-cottage.html">Llwyd Llwyn Cottage</a>, hidden in Aberyscir
in the Brecon Beacons. We had found it
on line, after receiving an invitation to the wedding of a dear friend at
nearby Buckland Hall, and we booked it for the week as a family holiday. It was
an eventful journey, entailing a tyre change on the M4, and getting lost
several times, and we were relieved to see the smiling faces of Lise and Ian
Chesters, the owners of the cottage.
They lived on site in an enormous farm house with outbuildings, and from
the start were unobtrusive but extremely helpful, from the welcome bottle of
wine and welsh cakes on arrival, to suggestions about things to do, to walking
the dog on the days that we had booked activities, giving us a lift to the
wedding and refilling the baskets of logs for the wood burning stove. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBthFpdFzVQpZyRljyNUF0mySh9EsYT6L6nIFweRF9UUyeZP1MPF4IY5V7xGwfbpIfqWhkW3KDhv6E11VUbRFRhyphenhyphen-58Bc-1YnFnVJ9yu9WeH3dYWn34CFH6hTKsrgASZ7aQtC3SDPajV8/s1600/brecon+hillside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBthFpdFzVQpZyRljyNUF0mySh9EsYT6L6nIFweRF9UUyeZP1MPF4IY5V7xGwfbpIfqWhkW3KDhv6E11VUbRFRhyphenhyphen-58Bc-1YnFnVJ9yu9WeH3dYWn34CFH6hTKsrgASZ7aQtC3SDPajV8/s320/brecon+hillside.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Llwyn Llwyd Cottage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A short
walk out of the back door and we were into the hills, where startled sheep ran
out of our way, countless wild blossoms swayed in the breeze and the landscape
stretched out beneath us in a patchwork quilt of 50 shades of green. I couldn’t
sleep on the first night because it was simply too quiet – no distant sound of
a motorway, or planes flying overhead, or even the milkman on an early morning
delivery. Nothing. And the skies were
clear, the distant stars sparkling crystals in the crisp intense darkness. And
my cup of tea felt hot, and my feet felt cold in a total sensory overload.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsWQWD-o04PEHY-YeZgHlr1ju-5Ni8XMj5lKsEXf5U_4uAGfr4ma8wE4SsSEanQnErQnQIv57ky-bc5y0au_i3MegopJ1zdStqSUGWZU1QYjIdRwKvfqKf28fMo3srcJLndLQDmEzyzg/s1600/boys+rolling+in+brecon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsWQWD-o04PEHY-YeZgHlr1ju-5Ni8XMj5lKsEXf5U_4uAGfr4ma8wE4SsSEanQnErQnQIv57ky-bc5y0au_i3MegopJ1zdStqSUGWZU1QYjIdRwKvfqKf28fMo3srcJLndLQDmEzyzg/s320/boys+rolling+in+brecon.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boys having fun in the Brecon Hills</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReI9pZDx9IchHuU9gmJXTEqQFmWbkeTd-VhAQFyr9xWTVYsUvqQGnv56nBEsSMSEbgC-G-kDa0VsbkH-6A_wSV-rRa_WZBy7cTPhdWHJI4hWpSgqtJ80t2bb5T_n6xrD08jF9jqM9EFs/s1600/ruth+at+brecon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReI9pZDx9IchHuU9gmJXTEqQFmWbkeTd-VhAQFyr9xWTVYsUvqQGnv56nBEsSMSEbgC-G-kDa0VsbkH-6A_wSV-rRa_WZBy7cTPhdWHJI4hWpSgqtJ80t2bb5T_n6xrD08jF9jqM9EFs/s320/ruth+at+brecon.jpg" width="171" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bit puffed out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then it
was morning and with it came a first time adventure for us all – canyoning, or
gorge scrambling. Cries of ‘Mum, where’s
my swimming costume?’ combatted my desire to look like Bo Derek emerging from
the water as I swept my hair back into a casual ponytail and applied a little
waterproof mascara. We were met at Pontneddfechan by a likeable young man from
Adventure Wales called Jake – we instantly forgot his name in the horror of
trying on rather damp wetsuits in a social club car park, and for the rest of
the 3 hours he was called Jack, Jacques, John, and at a rather panicky point,
Tim (no, I don’t know where that came from either). He made sure we looked as unglamorous as
possible with buoyancy aids and helmets adding to the whole Teletubbies effect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He then
marched us down to the gorge and proceeded to yell at us to jump in the water ‘to
get over the shock’. I went first, and on
surfacing from the icy cold river was privileged to see the reactions first
hand of the rest of the family. G’s face
went grey, as he realised that he had cajoled us into this and he had to go on,
Eldest Son looked resolute, Little Man screeched and Middle Son looked as if he
was going to puke. It was a day that tested all of us – caves that had to be
squeezed in and out of, ledges no thicker than my arm to be scrambled, dark tunnels
of 10 foot high to be scaled, and ducking in and out of waterfalls, jumping
into dark pools from 20 foot precipices into rushing currents. The kids took it
all in their stride, hanging from rocks with their nails and leaping across
gorges ten feet in the air. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same
time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">At the end Jake
strolled back to his car as if he had been out shopping for the day, whilst we
all dragged behind him, knock kneed and at least two of us in great need of a gin
and tonic. As we disrobed in the car
park – all modesty forgotten – he revealed in his lilting accent that he and
his brother were saving up for a trip to Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia in
October. His mother would miss them, but
she had only ever left Wales once, and she had regretted it, and so backed them
up in their adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We sat in
the car on the way to the nearest pub. I
looked in the visor mirror. My hair was
plastered to the side of my head and my waterproof mascara wasn’t. I looked more like Derek than Bo Derek. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was definitely
going to be a large gin day…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEituJ4zoTqSsHYOcT1UReiaxC_LW9aRCl_p6Z93QdoLol5U4hG-Gyx9qogiPfrNljob1tyKLjgBBgXXz1L7v7TuxXhHuUoZ4cV_8pwD7XbJn8KRyr3MCnJx1PZrHiswvMaZYWm-aubfSFI/s1600/boys+at+brecon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEituJ4zoTqSsHYOcT1UReiaxC_LW9aRCl_p6Z93QdoLol5U4hG-Gyx9qogiPfrNljob1tyKLjgBBgXXz1L7v7TuxXhHuUoZ4cV_8pwD7XbJn8KRyr3MCnJx1PZrHiswvMaZYWm-aubfSFI/s320/boys+at+brecon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They did all right!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-41497798505879068962015-04-24T05:35:00.000-07:002015-04-25T02:16:59.097-07:00Mum of Boys <div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The fridge
opens once again, shuts softly once more<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A rustle
belies the bread bin, as crumbs hit the floor<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The clink
of plates, the swish of juice, the sound of a happy crunch<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
chomping, and the slurping, an hour after lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The arguing
over who has left dirty socks on the chair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The endless
hours of staring in the mirror at ‘the hair’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
grunting, with legs stretched out, in front of the tv<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The lid
left up on the toilet, the bowl full of pee<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Trainers
stinking in the hall, kit bags far and wide<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shoes
randomly in singles, some living outside<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The weird
rush of affection, manifest in hurried hugs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then
back to the business of racing lady bugs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The jumping
on the trampoline, then sitting there for hours<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The ability
to sniff out food with extraterrestrial powers<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Thoughtful
silences coupled with an existential roar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘Do not
disturb, get out my room and shut the b*** door!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Striding
out for a Duck, handsome all in white<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Scoring
sweaty goals, mauling without fight<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Noisy
celebrations, slapping backs and shouting loud<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Raising
arms high, wave to an unseen crowd.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Shouting at
the telly, the ref’s got it wrong again<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I watch
them as they grow up, my funny little men.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Where
farting is hilarious, no matter what the age<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And sulking
is unheard of, just turn another page<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">No matter
what the difference, no one hurts a bro<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">His
siblings rally round, tell others where to go<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Living,
fighting, squabbling, a happy little pack<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Growing
ever upwards, with </span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">no turning back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Muscled
arms and legs, baby fat becomes lean<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The cute and
chubby toddler is nowhere to be seen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Voice becomes
melodic, scaling up and down<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Round face
becomes a bloke’s, swaddled in a frown<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The rising of the food bill, the electric charges high</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bedrooms resembling nothing short of a piglets sty</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Yet sound asleep
it seems like they’re toddlers once more<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">If you
ignore the empty plate, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 144pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">and the breadcrumbs on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 144pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX9ixxRxa-kzCpGKo294I9gQpeSRqaSG9G8ITtJQBgQDl4xBxTTctcE0VAye-65NBRelWVxDK9-e8AOvyk63Q7sX8ouqEfWh3iczNkcjME3lQBlV6YaY9hj4FEPNNk60_bVZYsDZi9hI/s1600/rome+camera+109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnX9ixxRxa-kzCpGKo294I9gQpeSRqaSG9G8ITtJQBgQDl4xBxTTctcE0VAye-65NBRelWVxDK9-e8AOvyk63Q7sX8ouqEfWh3iczNkcjME3lQBlV6YaY9hj4FEPNNk60_bVZYsDZi9hI/s1600/rome+camera+109.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-53651153718458795352015-04-23T06:43:00.000-07:002015-04-23T06:43:40.752-07:00Red Mist<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There comes
a time in life when the red mist descends.
To those happy souls who have no idea what this is, I will explain. It is an uncontrollable rage that bubbles up
within your very being, making you take leave of your senses and howl, shriek,
shout or scream uncontrollably. It is
usually triggered by circumstances or people’s behaviour. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It strikes
anyone – the drunken young man in the pub who has just had his pint spilt, the
meek housewife who has found letters from her husband’s lover in his trouser
pocket, the teenager who has been refused another night out , and the toddler
who can’t have a third lolly. We’ve
either seen it or read about it. And the
weird thing about the red mist, it blankets your mind such, that once it has
cleared, (and it does very quickly, leaving behind a shaking body in fight or
flight mode), you rarely remember exactly everything that you said or shouted,
but are left with this overriding feeling that you have fought for what you
truly believed in at the time, and that therefore it is justified. I’m not saying that a crime of passion is justification for the crime, but it is a reason for the action. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And why
does the red mist descend on some people and not on others? What makes one persons’ spilt pint a
potential motive for murder, and another ones’ an opportunity to accept an apology
and a new drinking buddy? What makes
one cuckolded female go round to the mistress’s house and attempt to scratch
out her eyes, whilst another is content with stabbing holes in her partner’s
suits and scratching his car? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Can it be
that in this day and age, with technology giving us all the information, wanted
and unwanted, necessary or unnecessary, pleasant or unpleasant at the push of a
button, that we are simply getting a sensory overload, and our mind short
circuits, making our stress levels rise and our reactions to situations become
extreme.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There is no
doubt that stress on the mind and body plays a huge part in the anger that we
all carry around with us. The prescription
of antidepressants in the UK continues to go up, reaching 1 in 6 adults in some
parts of the country, and at its lowest in areas where there are proper therapy
treatments available – i.e. regular contact with someone who can talk through
any mounting problems before it builds into a red mist moment. Holistic
exercise classes such as Yoga and Pilates have never been so popular, full of
people wanting to empty their minds as well as tone their bodies. The popularity of walking, hiking and outdoor
sports ensure that endorphins combat negative feelings. And there are hundreds
of self help books out there – all vying for the key to a peace of mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5p8ipLYz00WCjnm3BMYElQnKzgjIlLpb3NryHbECw0qM9EZ5QJo4_RTnqlW5hkuP-fyPrkQk3LmhEGmToS4_2T_qItNMT-RIkvSHqUqGZD1R0F8C9xnI2c2xIMsU7OSUDNwLdBjIGTw/s1600/angry+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL5p8ipLYz00WCjnm3BMYElQnKzgjIlLpb3NryHbECw0qM9EZ5QJo4_RTnqlW5hkuP-fyPrkQk3LmhEGmToS4_2T_qItNMT-RIkvSHqUqGZD1R0F8C9xnI2c2xIMsU7OSUDNwLdBjIGTw/s1600/angry+woman.jpg" height="320" width="167" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As a mum to
teenagers who are in the midst of exam fever, I have long been conscious of the
red mist. Coupled with the hormonal changes coursing through their bodies,
teenagers are extremely vulnerable, and it is a source of worry to all us mums
who hear what stupid things they or other kids have been up to. It doesn’t matter that we did equally as
stupid things, because it is a different world out there. Drunken partying was not instantly relayed around
the world on social media in a matter of minutes, to remain for a lifetime of
employers and employees to discover.
Porn was not easily accessible. ‘Duck
Face’ was a character in a jolly British film.
The school bully couldn’t access you at home. And bikini shots were
saved for the beach. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In this highly
volatile world where there is so much pressure to conform, and so much
uncertainty in the future, our teenagers need us now more than ever to provide
a stable base in which they can vent in safety, knowing that anything they say
will not be used in evidence against them, but will be used, once they subside
shaking on to the sofa, to illustrate the points of tension, and how best to
move on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">My car has
a feature called ‘Ambient Lighting’.
This enables you to change the colour of the internal lights. There are five choices. Perhaps we can’t change the kids, or even the
world, one family at a time. But perhaps
we can change the ferocity of the red mist.
Maybe to a topaz blue, or a cool white.
One button at a time… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-35604715587159942042015-04-13T10:09:00.002-07:002015-04-13T10:09:34.922-07:00Working from Home <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes, it’s been a while… So to those regular readers who
wondered if I had fallen out of the blogosphere and landed on my head, rendering
me in an unconscious blogging coma for 3 months, I am back. And to those new readers who have wandered
into my little puddle of the blogosphere, welcome!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As it happens, there was nothing dramatic about my
departure, it just seemed to spiral, and every time I envisaged sitting down
and updating my blog, life just happened, and then a bit like the impending
gloom of writing ones Thank You cards, or To Do list, or tackling the pile of
ironing that remonstrates with you in angry fabric conditioned punches as you
open the cupboard – it was simply easier to delay doing it to another day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As many of the blog followers know, I have for the 16
years in which babies have been in my life, worked from home. This has a lot of benefits when you are a mum
of young kids. You can dictate your own
hours, your boss doesn’t frown if you turn up to work in a shabby faded
dressing gown smelling suspiciously of nappies, you can attend those
interminable baby hand-clapping gym-bouncing rhyme-singing mornings that all
young mummies feel that they ought to, until they realise that they are doing
more of the above than their babies who are soundly asleep in their
buggies. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And it means that despite the
teething sleep deprived hours , the worry of childhood diseases, the endless
unsought advice on said diseases, the tantrums in the supermarket, the eviction
from the house of biting, fighting, scratching mums (and their toddlers), you
can wearily hobble in to a client meeting, baby sick unnoticed on your
shoulder, and sit down for a conversation that is only slightly elevated from
the ‘Me want’ stage…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But as the kids get older and start developing
personalities of their own, this working from home lark can get trickier. Again, it has its advantages – I can simply
inform my boss in a slightly schizophrenic way that I am taking the afternoon
off to watch my son play a football match. And if one of the kids is sick, I
can keep an eye on them whilst on a phone call to a client. But when it hits holiday time, this can be a
little bit of a problem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The older two respect my wishes to be left alone on the
days that I have set out to work. They
can cook themselves basic meals without setting light to the kitchen. They are perfectly capable of loading the
dishwasher and making their beds. They
can tidy up after themselves. They <b>can</b>
do all of these things… Whether they do, as teenagers, is a different
matter. Their hours are not mine. I learned long ago not to wait for them all
to emerge for breakfast. During the holidays this can stretch from 7.00am to
11.30am. But by the same token I have
learned that expecting them to make a lunch (yes, the timing is a little
tricky) means that the fridge is constantly raided throughout the day, and this
simply won’t do. And so I set a lunch
time. In between phone calls and document writing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Don’t get me wrong, I’m not having a moan, just simply
stating it as it is. I absolutely wouldn't have it any other way. I get to see my kids whenever I want and wherever I want, and to carry on doing a job that I love. I get to have my cake and eat it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But that doesn't detract from the fact that working from home
with kids can get a little tricky. For a
start, working mums in offices who need someone to maybe have their kids for a
few hours, forget that you too, work.
Sometimes having an extra child around as a kiddie distraction does actually
work for me too. Sometimes it doesn’t. It can be a little tricky if you are on the
phone and someone rings the bell and the dog hurls himself in an enthusiastic
ball of fury at the door. It can be a
bit off putting when you are copy editing a technical document online, and your
child comes in to tell you he has nits or that he has forgotten that he has extra sports training 20 miles away starting in ten minutes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had a conversation with Little Man this morning who was sitting
companionably beside me as I worked. He
was doing some homework for a test. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Imagine,’ I said, to establish the boundaries, ‘That I
am sitting in an office like all the other working mummies. You need to think about what you need to ask
me.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He looked at me.
‘But you are sitting beside me’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Yes, I know, but imagine that you aren’t.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was a little silence as he turned back to his
book, and I to my computer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly he began to make a really annoying loud noise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Ring Ring, Ring Ring.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘What are you doing?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He continued the noise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Stop It!’ I said sharply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He stopped and looked at me admonishingly. ‘Answer the
phone then!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I rolled my eyes and put my hand to my ear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Hello?’ I enquired wearily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Hello Mummy! What
time’s lunch?’ said my son cheerfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’m going to have a stern word with my boss about
working conditions…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-59129695959836306622015-01-05T02:18:00.001-08:002015-01-05T02:18:43.043-08:00Twelve days of Christmas<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So it’s
arrived again, the time when the decorations come down, the kids go back to
school and life goes back to what resembles normality in this house. And I can’t help but feel a little sad. The
anticlimax has hit. 2015 looms full of
opportunity, but full of the same old same old… There are going to be lots of
challenges that will need to be overcome, and I will face them with both
excitement and trepidation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCnPt1ZgI3Df_p54_OijT92g8vCMImY2XWqAGEmN_ijN7fJpV_cyiAQelKMgqA5cgcFERS3zoRtl-EQEfIk1c95mnJgd4sLVBiFOGgHiBX3TFWA5MQrcFpgVHfDmD_yBZa9bWxJr5GIo/s1600/laser+quest+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCnPt1ZgI3Df_p54_OijT92g8vCMImY2XWqAGEmN_ijN7fJpV_cyiAQelKMgqA5cgcFERS3zoRtl-EQEfIk1c95mnJgd4sLVBiFOGgHiBX3TFWA5MQrcFpgVHfDmD_yBZa9bWxJr5GIo/s1600/laser+quest+041.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How to
combat a certain element of the fear of failure is a challenge that I will have
to learn, and to teach my boys. How to
look at a grey sky and see a blue one will at times be a challenge. How to find that last ounce of strength to
help a child with his homework when I am tired, or overworked or over wrought will
be a challenge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But it will
happen. And it will be my little family
that will spur me on in any dark days that I have. The little pleading eyes
that say Please can we use the last Egg to make some Cupcakes? And the smell of
baking will ease anything! Or the little
shoulders that shrug when presenting me with the requirements for a fancy dress
costume due in school the next day – with total trust that I can do it. And I do.
Or the fiercely wagging tail of the dog which indicates that Yes, he
knows it is raining, but still, it would be fun to go and splash in puddles and
get all muddy. And it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And so it’s
not really so bad, the last few days of Christmas. It signifies that we have survived another
festive period, this year mercifully without any mishaps. It gives me time to
look again through the cards, reading those little scribbles that tell you what
others lives have been like, looking at the enclosed photos of their growing
kids or aging parents. It gives me a chance to carefully wrap up all the dough
decorations and baubles that the kids made in nursery, preserving them for
another year. And it is a time for
reflection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And if
anyone needs anything to look forward to
- it will be less than 350 days before they all go up again! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-2848191254774250372015-01-02T05:36:00.001-08:002015-01-02T06:22:12.965-08:00Back to the Future as 2015 finally arrives<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the
second day of 2015, or the Future (as featured in the 1989 film Back to the
Future II) most of us are sitting a little dazed as the mayhem of the festive
period in 2014 fizzes out on the horizon in a last pop of a Prosecco
bubble. The tree sits wilting in bedraggled tinsel and the outside lights that looked so magnificent at Christmas flicker disconsolately. The cards gather glittery dust on the window sills and half opened boxes of chocolate glisten unappealingly on the table. If we saw Marty, Doc and
Jennifer screech into our lives, big hair, smiles and shoulder pads looming, we would
assume wearily that we were hallucinating, and that the dodgy eighties tribute band
from down the local pub had got lost again…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "Britannic Bold","sans-serif"; font-size: 72.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">FUTURE?</span></b></blockquote>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Let’s
face it, what does a film made in 1989 about our year to date really know? 1984,
in which George Orwell famously described a world in which we were controlled
by a Big Brother state in which there was an Inner Party that controlled the
85% of us Proles, despite a lot of accurate insights into the working of modern
governments and industries, came and went. We refused to die in May 2000, or December
2012 – both of which were ancient predictions for the end of the world. So
what is it about 2015 that will make it stand out as the Future? What is it that will make us think, at the
end of the year, that it was worth waiting for? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Back to the Future II starts off in 1985 where the original film ended, with Marty and Jennifer getting married. But Marty and Doc have to travel forward in time to 2015 to rescue his future son from being jailed. And then all the complications arise. So in effect, they arrive where us 80s kids are today. Yes we are older, fatter, have kids, family, mortgage and responsibilities. We get more tired nowadays, and a hangover lasts a few days rather than a few hours. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now its me cooking the Christmas dinner instead of my mum, and I don't do a bad job of it either.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But our true friends are still with us, and we laugh at the same stupid things, dance much to the embarrassment of our teenagers to the 'new music' before a couple of glasses of wine necessitates slamming on the Greatest Hits of the Eighties. And we would fight tooth and nail for our kids, rather like Marty. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Perhaps we
can’t stand around waiting for the hover boards and flying cars to appear. Perhaps what we have to do is make just one
prediction – that this year, the year of the Future, we will do something
worthwhile to us and to us alone. It may
be dropping that dress size, it may be getting that job, it may be leaving that
job, it may be learning to be patient with your aging parents, or curbing your
frustration with your difficult teenage child, or learning a new skill, dumping a toxic
friend, hitting the gym, or resolving to make some ‘me’ time every day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Whatever it
is, this year make it worth it. The Future is here, and it’s yours for the
taking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And if you
smell burning rubber and hear screeching tyres up above your heads, duck as
fast as you can, ‘cos Marty and co have arrived…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Happy New
Year! </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi48VzmsNcgOmhbMa-UwJckTwHMqiT9kwDoVXKhZPvGZxcKP21BKG7iU5RCqWgFo8MCfpm0m7WyfLg8nvDGTRpDue7NbxElCuMJOOJ-SoQxZ2TpFANu5AHEBQCI44TpKHIprCaUdhLF5E0/s1600/christmas+2014+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi48VzmsNcgOmhbMa-UwJckTwHMqiT9kwDoVXKhZPvGZxcKP21BKG7iU5RCqWgFo8MCfpm0m7WyfLg8nvDGTRpDue7NbxElCuMJOOJ-SoQxZ2TpFANu5AHEBQCI44TpKHIprCaUdhLF5E0/s1600/christmas+2014+071.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-81179689729670588472014-11-07T02:13:00.002-08:002014-11-07T03:28:07.034-08:007 Sundays to Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwiCs0YsfhwTxg6x_vhGUI5TT8MloYKVIgRaRv0KjbCMI7YPHX24SPr80tv5QNDpx5YoHyIvEV3LeI5FkKPBsDUFhd1e3Ll4hSjjV1Uc1EEQ6RylMq6QdzCY2wYCk5DcXc8KYZvSO-620/s1600/panto+and+christmas+100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwiCs0YsfhwTxg6x_vhGUI5TT8MloYKVIgRaRv0KjbCMI7YPHX24SPr80tv5QNDpx5YoHyIvEV3LeI5FkKPBsDUFhd1e3Ll4hSjjV1Uc1EEQ6RylMq6QdzCY2wYCk5DcXc8KYZvSO-620/s1600/panto+and+christmas+100.JPG" height="280" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">7 Sundays to Christmas <span style="font-weight: normal;"> (a mummy's ditty)</span></span></h3>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">7 Sundays
to Christmas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And
everyone’s a-flutter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">7 Sundays
to Christmas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Husband
begins to mutter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Bags of
shopping hiding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In places I
forget<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Present
ideas sliding<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As we view
the internet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The setting
in of panic<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As red sold
out signs appear<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The typing
getting manic<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It happens
every year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Lists
changing daily<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">No
constants since the dog<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The anxiety
of failing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Upturned
faces agog...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Deep
breaths and decision<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Belt
tightening with a flair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hard
thinking with precision<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">No plucking
out of air.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">School
plays and school days<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Excitement
builds so high<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘7 Sundays
to Christmas!’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">All the
mummies cry.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Concerts
and festive fayres<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Cash flying
out the door<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Teachers
gifts- those who care<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Calendar
fills up more...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘Must catch
up for a drink<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Before
Christmas if you please’;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What
madness makes us all think<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Of
decorating trees?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Street
lighting in November<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Cards building
up in piles<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ready for
December<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The month
of stress and smiles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fowl
ordered with the goose fat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That is
never used all year<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Puddings,
games and moose hat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">For the
season of good cheer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Bottles
clink in boxes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Grand
opening day awaits<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We’ve got
our Christmas sockses<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The CD of
yuletide greats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">7 Sundays
to Christmas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Brain
starts to creak and grate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But look on to the bright side...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>It’ll all
be gone in 8! </b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
©Ruth Morrison 2014</div>
<o:p></o:p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-24881412072651639832014-10-31T03:31:00.000-07:002014-10-31T08:20:33.142-07:00Friends: The Witches, the Bitches and the Climb out of Ditches<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwBxZWH04iXWH4v0ZO1-hMxV-e64jG31BtOMpccmnwGCL85HEh8nKU_0l1XycakLWYn5p6mIiwSW_2t-JydmOA-e4ee1A6hPeuHzhIHRpVHF_fROh_GNQ86tzxgO98djrKqi2Tscwo0n8/s1600/freindship.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwBxZWH04iXWH4v0ZO1-hMxV-e64jG31BtOMpccmnwGCL85HEh8nKU_0l1XycakLWYn5p6mIiwSW_2t-JydmOA-e4ee1A6hPeuHzhIHRpVHF_fROh_GNQ86tzxgO98djrKqi2Tscwo0n8/s1600/freindship.jpg" height="132" width="320"></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The older I
get, the fussier I am about making friends.
This is not because I am unsociable, far from it. I absolutely love making new acquaintances. I love the feeling of meeting someone new -and
if they interest me- finding out about their lives, what makes them tick, what
qualities attract me. Occasionally they
become a friend. And there is no tried
and tested formula. You do get natural
wastage. Friends who were once mainstays in my life no longer feature. Through no fault of their own, or mine, just
through circumstances or fate or environmental factors they have dropped off
the radar, relegated to acquaintances. #WOTW Word of the week is Friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And in the
spirit of Halloween I have categorized them in three groups: The ‘Witches’, the
‘Bitches’, and the ‘Climb out of Ditches’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Witches</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">There’s
something spookily fascinating about the Witch friend. Mainly found in youthful circles, you can
also find them in the <a href="http://pantomum.blogspot.co.uk/2014/01/tackling-ma-fia.html">MaFia</a> groups on which I have written before. She beguiles
you from the start, she could be very attractive both in looks and
personality. There is nothing that she
wouldn’t do for you, initially. She is very persuasive, and you find yourself
arguing on her behalf, without question. She invites you to everything, you become part
of her coven. You plot and plan and
travel in the pack. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then you find that
the comforting silky spiders’ web of friendship that she has woven over you is
actually made of very fine steel. It’s
incredibly difficult to escape. You find
that instead of having an opinion, your voice has turned to a mere froglike
croaking. You look in the mirror and you
see a weak reflection of yourself staring back. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And you realise that you don’t
like what you see. And you break free before your get the life sucked out of
you, and then get thrown on the pile of carcasses that you have just noticed in
the corner of the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Bitches</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">These
friends are your ‘Yes’ / ‘No’ mates.
They give fully of themselves in the quest for tidbits of gossip, can
always be relied on for a laugh, and would cheerfully stab you in the
back. However, they are enormous
fun. These tend to be the mid term
friends, but can and do appear at any time of your life. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">They could be mummies at school that you
befriend because little Johnny likes little Freddie. They could be work colleagues who become
mates through a mutual hatred of your boss.
You could go on holiday with them, live in each others pockets, and for
a time you would, in the spirit of friendship, do anything for them. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Until you realise that that is what you are
doing – everything for them. And their
favourite mantra becomes ‘I owe you one’, as they disappear off with someone
else. When that time comes, and you see that the mutual support structure is
based on golden sunny sand, then it’s time to shift. Either to firmer foundations with the same
structure, or you knock the sandcastle down in your memory as one glorious
sundowner fuelled holiday romance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Climbing
out of Ditches</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">These are
your best friends. They come from all
walks of life, and at every stage of life.
These are the ones who pick you up, dust you down and set you back on
your feet. They are the people that you
would do anything for, no matter how unreliable/irritating/frustrating they can
be at that moment in time, because you know that they would absolutely do the
same for you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">They are the ones who
understand what is precious to you, and what you hold dear. They may be late, but they would never let
you down. And you can have a bitch and a giggle over a glass of wine. And you can drunkenly cast spells over those
witches that gave you such a hard time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And frankly, if you fall in the ditch, they
will make you laugh trying to pull you out.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And hell,
if you’re too stuck in the mud of despair, they won’t leave you. They’ll get
right there in with you. And hug you tight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
<br>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-65295115621549919222014-10-23T01:12:00.001-07:002014-10-23T01:12:55.274-07:00In The Beginning...<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I cannot
believe that it has been a year since I started writing #Pantomum as a journey
into the unknown world of pantomime, and which evolved into snapshots of living with the boys, the family and life in general. And as the year has passed, so the kids have
grown, Little Man is not so little, Eldest Son tops us all at 15 years old and
6ft 2, and Middle Son is threatening to grow his hair just one cm longer so
that he is taller than me. In a year I
now have the smallest feet in the family.
In a year our puppy has become a big lolloping hound, the cats have got
used to him and even G, our disliker of canines, has been known to invite him
over for a cuddle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqm8raR_2HEPrB2oJsGxpDquHFjf_vDAvBSq2cD0BkzrF1Xat1zim8k7wiAYOslwsYdzlc3Bcfq5Z9KCyY3zWX6MXzH1okfiPaym38SxN61IB8B-hfNmMPgYp8DFEqxdrgOWS1OVTG03k/s1600/panto+and+christmas+164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqm8raR_2HEPrB2oJsGxpDquHFjf_vDAvBSq2cD0BkzrF1Xat1zim8k7wiAYOslwsYdzlc3Bcfq5Z9KCyY3zWX6MXzH1okfiPaym38SxN61IB8B-hfNmMPgYp8DFEqxdrgOWS1OVTG03k/s1600/panto+and+christmas+164.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One knackered Backstage Mum (and sea monster)! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">In a year
my blog has covered a number of things in a number of styles, whether it is
poetry, prose, opinion pieces, the odd review on products or books, or simply
just a bit of creative writing. It showed the ups and downs of life, and how
people coped with good news and bad. One
of the most popular posts was a <a href="http://pantomum.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/a-story-for-evie.html">fairy story</a> that I wrote for a friends little
girl who found out early this year that she had cancer. The
comments on <a href="http://pantomum.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/a-story-for-evie.html">A Story for Evie</a> and its follow up post were lovely, and the donations to the Little Princess Trust even
better. I’m pleased to say that she is doing well on the bumpy road to recovery, and has been a very brave little girl with
the support of her ever loving family and community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And it has
been a year of reflection. Tomorrow is my 16<sup>th</sup> wedding anniversary,
after a whirlwind romance all those years ago of just three months.
We’ve learned to give, take and compromise. Running our own businesses has not been
easy in the present economic climate.
But we still managed to save for a fantastic driving holiday in Italy,
which I attempted in some small way (despite some dodgy internet connections) to
share with you in <a href="http://pantomum.blogspot.co.uk/2014/08/the-italian-job-sorrento.html">The Italian Job</a> posts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It’s been a
year of acknowledgement. I’ve spent most
of this year beset with Achilles problems, mercifully coming to an end. None of
us are getting younger, and the kids are getting older. In a matter of months I will have 2 teenagers
in the house. The spectre of GCSE’s is
looming. Little Man is nearing the end
of junior school. And I’m now on the
downward slope to 50… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And yet our
life still is one big pantomime, sometimes I’m the Dame, often I feel like Dandini
as I run around after the kids, I’m constantly expected to be the Genie and
produce miracles at the nth hour and on occasion I really, really have to stop
myself from being the Wicked (Step)Mother.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And the
person who inspired this blog in the first place, Little Man, skips blithely
through life, leaving us scrabbling in his wake. Tonight at 9 years old he takes on the role
of Oliver in the musical at a local theatre, with all the aplomb (and
accoutrements) of a seasoned performer.
And we would not have it any other way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Thanks for
sticking with us – are you ready for another year of mayhem, madness and
merriment? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sorry, I
can’t hear you?! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I said… Are
You Ready for Another Year of Mayhem, Madness and Merriment?! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Pant-astic! Catch you later…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-77294098201747615222014-10-11T02:46:00.001-07:002014-10-11T05:11:28.654-07:00Learning to say No <div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I have a
very good ‘friend’ who simply can’t say No to anything – be it going on a
dinner date with people she can’t bear, being asked for the umpteenth time by a
non- reciprocal friend to pick up her child from a team game or asked if she
likes the sack-like garment her companion is wearing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The fact of
the matter is that she does it purely for altruistic motives – she doesn’t want
to offend, in short, she wants to be liked.
This is, I suspect true of a little bit of all of us. But, after years of this kind of behavior,
she simply snapped and said No. And she
found it so empowering that she said No again and again, and now no one asks
her for anything, and she doesn’t have the worry of offending anyone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> But is this necessarily a good thing for
her? Has the woman who for most of her
life relied on others to ask her things to make her say Yes and be needed, now
cut off her nose as life whirls on without her, and she is left feeling on the
one hand empowered, but on the other hand disenfranchised.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmhyvZGb1fl4lOaTC8GHBAA0qaCZR8Pbmj_ry2RxIs7SYteJlJsI3nXtY7RSg6gd1KDvpaVqIR4QY4HcbpLG0VRcp1B8iQXquMYAvVvrEoJ6Cw4iNWuSBD6ZnzuQfXkDaoqJ5xu8GSNI/s1600/No!.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmhyvZGb1fl4lOaTC8GHBAA0qaCZR8Pbmj_ry2RxIs7SYteJlJsI3nXtY7RSg6gd1KDvpaVqIR4QY4HcbpLG0VRcp1B8iQXquMYAvVvrEoJ6Cw4iNWuSBD6ZnzuQfXkDaoqJ5xu8GSNI/s1600/No!.png" height="173" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We all do
things out of duty. Let’s take an
example. We are hurtling towards Christmas, the day where traditionally familial
duty causes the most stressful period of the year. It is no coincidence that the bulk of divorce
applications hit its annual peak in January. We may love our families, but all
in one place on one day? And having to
host disparate non life threatening culinary requirements – is Grandma this
year a vegetarian who eats fish, or a vegetarian who will eat a little bit of
meat? Who is gluten free this year? Who can’t eat chocolate, potatoes or will
only eat chocolate potatoes? Who can’t drink anything but the sparkling
wine you have been saving in the fridge, but can’t afford to bring a
bottle? What presents do you buy? How much do you spend? How do you extricate yourself from the ‘but
this is what we always used to do at Christmas’? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How in
short, do you stand up and say ‘No’and not feel disenfranchised or ostracized? Not No to Christmas per se, but No to the infinite
amounts of demands that undermine your sense of being. There is no point saying Yes to everyone if
you are miserable about saying so – it genuinely reflects back, at some
point. Do you wait until you simply snap
and start saying No to everything, and then feel unhappy when no one asks your
opinion? Or is there a way to gently
introduce the idea of saying No, so that you can say it with confidence and
truth?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Perhaps start a little
slowly. ‘You know what? That dress doesn’t bring out the best in your
figure. I really loved that blue dress
you wore the other day. It brought out
the colour of your eyes’. Or ‘I know you
really love sitting in front of the telly for five hours over Christmas, but I
thought this year we would play some board games – do you have any suggestions?’ Or ‘Why don’t we do a Secret Santa this year,
it would be so much fun and save everyone some money?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And when you
are really confident , you can become the Machiavelli of No - and when that
mother asks you yet again to pick up her child, smile sweetly and say ‘Of
course I will. But would you do the same
for me next week as I have an appointment?
I am happy to provide the snacks as usual?’ It’s a Yes with a No, and a twist…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It may fail
disastrously at first. It will take a
while to come into effect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And
remember -failing all else, you could always go Toddler. Shout No, stamp your
foot and run away. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I have found that this works with immediate effect.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">(But you may need to sit on
the Naughty Step with a glass of wine whilst other mothers eye you disapprovingly.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-11744261102038328682014-09-16T02:30:00.000-07:002014-09-16T02:30:00.975-07:00Unsung Heroes<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Lollipop Lady</span></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are unsung heroes in life<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The soldiers, the nurses, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">the teachers</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The man who drives the school bus, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The dinner lady who puts that extra spoonful </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On the
little boys plate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Because she knows that he had no breakfast again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The old man who still walks his dog, who died 3 months ago,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The dog walker who asks for his help, even though she
doesn’t need it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They come in different shapes and sizes, different
colours and sounds<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One even wears a bright high –vis jacket<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She’s the lollipop lady.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She’s not our lollipop lady – we pass her standing at
the side of the road</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As we drive in our shiny car to school<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But she’s always there, and we look out for her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She becomes a start to the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In the snow she wears a shapeless long blue waterproof
coat<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And big blue wellies, her cheeks all flushed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My kids love it when she stops the car, walking into
the road with her sign</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As children file like ducklings behind her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And mums with buggies straggle along in bunches
chatting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes she gets a wave from us, and she waves back<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes one of the ducklings says Thank You, but not
often.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And one day she was not there, and my kids were sad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Where’s the Lollipop Lady?’ they asked, their morning
stupor gone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And she didn’t come back for several weeks<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Cars no longer slowed their pace <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In recognition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My kids stopped looking for her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Until today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We saw her at
her post<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Thinner, hugging the buggy women who greeted her<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Noticing her at last<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Standing proud, in her high – vis jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;">©Ruth Morrison 2014<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-34174283656771403992014-08-17T04:06:00.001-07:002014-08-17T04:07:40.183-07:00In tribute to #Robin Williams, and to the many others<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<h4>
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Depression</span></i></h4>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What makes a sigh turn into a smile?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What changes rain into dew for a
while?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What chases the thunder with fluffy
white clouds?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">What stops the loneliness when lost
in the crowds?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How does the rainbow shine with
watery rays?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How can you focus through the fog
and the haze?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How can you grasp at the straws
falling down?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">How does the paint roll with the
tears of a clown?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When does the pain go in the heat of
the sun?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When will the laugh come when all is
undone?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When is the soul free of unfettered
dread?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">When can the fear not be left
unsaid?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Where is the friend who says ‘You’re
not alone’?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Where is the voice on the end of the
phone?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Where is the hammer shattering the
glass wall?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Where are the pieces that crackle
and fall?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Who can hold on through the raging storm?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Who can restore whirling tempests to
norm?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Who can silence the crumbling of
mind?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Who can sit quietly, until it’s behind?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Why is it so hard to hear and be
heard?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Why is it hard to condense to one
word?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Why is it considered a temporary
low?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Why can it kill to try overthrow?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Will you be the one who extends the
hand?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Will you lead the one out of his
hellish land?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Will you answer the call because you’re
a friend?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Will you listen to their point of
view in the end?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hear them? Be near them? Understand them?
Protect?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hug them? Don’t bug them? Hand
extended? Respect?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Hold them? Don’t scold them?
Befriend and forgive?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Light up a dark corner, a small
reason to live?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Can you make a sigh turn into a
smile?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Can you change rain into dew for a
while?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Can you chase the thunder with
fluffy white clouds?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">You can stop the loneliness when
lost in the crowds.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">©Ruth
Morrison 2014</span></div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-18445013832217640832014-08-17T01:38:00.003-07:002014-08-17T01:39:36.347-07:00#Word of the Week - Positive<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It is
always difficult returning from a holiday.
For a start, there’s the house.
It always seems that little bit ‘distant’ – a shock to the system in
which one is desperately pleased to be back on terra firma, but where the sense
of responsibility and routine smacks you between the eyes like a low hanging
sign. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then of
course there are the piles. Of washing. Of bills. Of junk mail. Of filing that
you hid away in the excitement of going on holiday. Of decisions that you have
been putting off, but with the excuse that you are going on holiday. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And the
biggest thing to contend with is the feeling of anticlimax. The ‘is that it now?’ The thought that the
benefits of being on holiday dwindle faster than the tide washes the sand
beneath your feet. That your happy
bonded family will be dispersed by the electronic pull of friends far more knowledgeable
than silly old mum and dad and their crap in-car music, or the many activities
in which your children bond with others, charging towards the same goal with a common
purpose, and as a parent you become secondary to these responsibilities of
youth. And the feeling of dread hangs
over you like a sword of Damacles as you load the washing machine for the fifth
time that day, or go food shopping for a ‘normal shop’ – splashing out on a
French stick to hold on to that holiday feeling for just that little bit longer…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Those who
are on Facebook may have noticed a recent trend in which people are nominated
to join in for a week of Positivity – over 7 days you post a daily list of three
things that are or have had a positive effect on you. This sounds easier than it actually is. I was nominated by two people when I was on
holiday in Italy – and decided to set myself the challenge of doing it when I
got back, in the hope that it would offset the post holiday blues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was an
eye opener. It involved a different
mindset. A willingness to unfetter my exterior shell of capability and
culpability and see the world differently.
In a normal situation I veer wildly from a glass half empty to a glass
half full. I had to look past the
washing precipice of pessimism into the lake of optimism. I had to fish
something out of that lake, three times a day for 7 days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And I did
it. Sometimes it was a bit of an old
boot – a negative on the noisiness of the bin men turned into a positive - more times it was a revelation – you can
have fun in the rain, people can surprise you, there are new discoveries and
places just round the corner if you keep your eyes open.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And I’m not
sure if it was conscious, or subconscious, but my little family changed too.
The boys have all offered, and cooked, meals this week (within their
capabilities). We have kept up with the
holiday routine of clearing the table and washing up rotas. We’ve had some really fun conversations or
short trips out. The holiday bonding has carried on temporarily because none of
us want it to break. I say temporarily, not to be pessimistic, but realistic - Life will inevitably get in the way, but for
the moment we are all enjoying the positive effects.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPdwKjDZtcdl_qi3jlPAuJEV2beYyo3SxqG39gtBdnN5YpeKhUIvuvhPwyIpp1GOI87vDYPNH5m3Kr_tT4GyqTVMA7ajUGw8tEmU1wuoU6UxYrDdc6zEVgc2QD68SXzzrPeJqIADcMvU/s1600/positive2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtPdwKjDZtcdl_qi3jlPAuJEV2beYyo3SxqG39gtBdnN5YpeKhUIvuvhPwyIpp1GOI87vDYPNH5m3Kr_tT4GyqTVMA7ajUGw8tEmU1wuoU6UxYrDdc6zEVgc2QD68SXzzrPeJqIADcMvU/s1600/positive2.png" height="115" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Positive.
My Word of the Week, for a week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Til next
time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Have
you done the Positivity challenge? How
did you get on?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-31705790443897830812014-08-11T09:03:00.002-07:002014-08-11T10:32:13.985-07:00The Italian Job: The End<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><i>*Many of you have been following our month long trip in a Passat estate around Italy with the three boys. We've had our thrills and spills and ups and downs. This is the final post about our journey through a simply magnificent country.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The boys
were amazing on the car journey home. I
suppose that after 4 weeks away, we had all settled into a ‘driving’ routine, whether
it was reading for a bit, limited electronic entertainment or just a general
laugh about what we had seen or done. Time flew by fairly quickly, we stopped
for fuel and a leg stretch, and a peer into the sunlight after the darkness of
the copious tunnels that we had been in.
But it seemed to be getting darker the closer we got to Calais, and it
was only mid afternoon. A quick scan of
the news channels on the radio and we realised that the tail end of ‘Big Bertha’
the weather front that had played havoc in the Bahamas was heading our way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And indeed it
was not long before we were caught in the middle of an amazing
thunderstorm. Cars had pulled over haphazardly
on the toll road, hazard lights twinkling in amongst the lightning bolts. Winds buffeted the car, and the roof box
thumped up and down. Rain lashed at the
windscreen as G endeavoured to keep steering in a straight line. Little Man buried his face in my lap and
emitted a low moan. Only Middle Son, a
storm chaser in the making, looked genuinely thrilled with the situation. And then
it was gone as quickly as it arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8xFYU_-GqYeAgO4WXWFeUmM0Pqhvv5yo_UwavEdR3p-G5cS8vmYKWvEjvcIkqa-E5Lb1VaHs-4HCpxZoTKiTxzf2zPltqqIiBO6FBSGhKLZDqi3jhSplUgP6Kg83HbsyCJbHIu9NQG0/s1600/trip+home+036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8xFYU_-GqYeAgO4WXWFeUmM0Pqhvv5yo_UwavEdR3p-G5cS8vmYKWvEjvcIkqa-E5Lb1VaHs-4HCpxZoTKiTxzf2zPltqqIiBO6FBSGhKLZDqi3jhSplUgP6Kg83HbsyCJbHIu9NQG0/s1600/trip+home+036.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving through the storm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We all
looked at one another shakily. It seemed
a good time as any to pull over and get something to eat. We asked Garmin the sat nav for any
restaurants nearby. The famous Golden
Arches logo popped up on the screen. ‘McDonalds!’
shrieked the boys in joy, thoughts of home not far from their minds. And so it was that the last meal of our trip
was in a rather funky French McDonalds, with sections divided into Salle Rock,
Salle Pop and Salle Classique, as well as a childrens gym (it had spinning
bikes)/play area for those who had had that one nugget too many… <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-XczGukO-fa6Lgg-CCTirKgT0sCGHhOyRAu7Y3snSRcG9ZdoRXdIm-UkMecqOXotkhlVs9qTBLjPprW0ph_0ZtV2oCHM4fRQKj6n9P8NRM4_WZnDkhcibZSFZXNzrzbC316W8MZ8m5bY/s1600/mcdonalds+laon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-XczGukO-fa6Lgg-CCTirKgT0sCGHhOyRAu7Y3snSRcG9ZdoRXdIm-UkMecqOXotkhlVs9qTBLjPprW0ph_0ZtV2oCHM4fRQKj6n9P8NRM4_WZnDkhcibZSFZXNzrzbC316W8MZ8m5bY/s1600/mcdonalds+laon.jpg" height="202" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McDonalds, French style</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Having arrived at the Eurotunnel quicker than
anticipated, we queued for an earlier crossing.
Hundreds of English visitors were returning home. A woman in a Range Rover was shouting
animatedly at her husband and jabbing at him with her finger in
accusation. They’d obviously had good
holiday…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">G opened his
window to be searched for explosives by a man waving an electronic Geiger counter
type thing over the steering wheel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘But what,’
asked Little Man in a loud voice, ‘If Mummy had a bomb? He hasn’t checked if Mummy has a bomb.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘I don’t
have a bomb’, I said indignantly, turning around to face him in my seat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘But we
could have one in the roof box, or in the back of the car – he hasn’t checked,
Mum, we could have bombs everywhere and he hasn’t checked.’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The man was
standing by the car chatting into his walkie talkie. G had gone a rather strange colour. ‘Can everyone stop talking about bombs
please?’ he hissed, as the man waved him on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘I was just
saying,’ said Little Man huffily as he turned back to see what Middle Son was
playing on the iPad, ‘Ooh, are you dead yet?’<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And so it
was we arrived home, just before midnight, the cats looking at us as if we were
utter strangers as we entered the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It’s good
to be back. It’s strange to be
back. It’s weird to think of what we’ve
accomplished – the places we have seen, the people we have met, the experiences
we have had. And we all agreed, we would
do it again in a flash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">He has been
warned that this will be the only time I leave the last word to G, but I asked
him to sum up his thoughts. For now,
Ciao xx<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<h4>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The Last
Word…</span></h4>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I forgot to mention that on the very first night of our
travels (Dijon) I witnessed a shooting star.
It's the second I have seen in my life, both occasions being pure flukes
when I just happened to be staring skyward. Both times I gained a sense of
oneness with the cosmos as if 'it' and I were having a moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These past few weeks I have seen so much, travelled so
far (easily 3300+ miles - as far as Dubai is from London), that I've had a
problem trying to sum it up and so crystalise the memories for myself. When I think of every place, object, meal or
experience a cumbersome montage forms in my mind so I have gotten to thinking
about themes and what would be the lasting legacies? I quickly realised that it wasn't the what,
where, when or how that really mattered more than the why and who because these
two were the conception and the conduit respectively for the memories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's not to ignore a series of personal bucket list
ticks; The Colosseum, The Pantheon, the Circus Maximus, the Sistine Chapel, the
Leaning Tower of Pisa, a gondola ride, Vesuvius or Capri to name a few. Nor
does it negate the thousands of driving experiences in the mountains, along the
Amalfi coast, through great cities, through the countless tunnels or over the
countless bridges (I had wondered where the EU money went other than Spain)
These were special but all are repeatable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> For me the 'why'
has always been the same and beautifully expressed by JFK (no I'm not comparing
him to me or the moon landings to my holiday).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon
in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because
they are hard, because that goal will serve to organise and measure the best of
our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to
accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and
the others, too.” JFK<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Although I tend not to flog dead horses, I do like to run
things close on occasion. I like to aim
for a goal a little further out than is comfortable; it ensures I remain in a
heightened state ready to make the most of things. I realise this may be an anathema as a
vacation but I find it an irresistible state of mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Away from the narrative then and my lofty inspirations
are those things that are unique of their moment and imbedded into the 'who'
and as such are destined to be woven into family lore to become the defining
legacy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For instance, on the journey back R-indoors discovered a hole in
the space-time-continuum when she seemed to observe that Folkstone and Calais
where on vastly different Longitudes, it being light when we left Calais on the
train and dark when we arrived in Folkestone...neglecting to factor in that we were
actually still in the tunnel as she gazed out of the window....Priceless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She has a bit of form on such matters having once thrown
a fit on a previous expedition when map reading because she couldn't locate
Barcelona on the Spanish coast...or even the coast itself apparently...before I
very carefully pointed out that she was haranguing a map of France... That said and despite a hardwired inability
to discern left from right she's a great navigator and programmer of sat navs
following the immortal instruction 'punch it Chewy'. I laugh every time at my tired Hans Solo gag
and every time she responds with that Princess Leah 'not if you were the last
guy in the Universe' look. And so our
love grows :)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But. If this
holiday follows previous patterns then the real legacy should be the simple,
powerful yet increasingly rare experience of the family being so close together
for so long. 80+ meals together,
thousands of miles together, walks, talks, games, A couple of old movies
together (from my 'you will watch these my son / right of passage' collection
[Spartacus & The Vikings]). Formation
carpet bombing Mummy in the pool, annoying Daddy whilst he sunbathes and yes, a
few lively arguments together. </span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll spare us both an examination of just why in today's
world so much effort and money has to be invested to do what was once a way of
life.....and instead wrap this ramble up with a promise to myself that so long
as I can I'll do my best to ensure that me and my family keep one eye scanning
beyond Life's horizon so as not to miss the next shooting star.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">G<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
</div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKQo-7ysW_sivK1yBQxe3WzyW245Dx1SansU_GriLKcXCSOH-m8JhoPZDuaAb_2OtXe0zgOcqc8LSLpTxzxKwrVjPcPjF98JmDnnZ_C8seApX8VtUBP7VQ8F_otvgzWeLwYwWO7cN7XA/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKQo-7ysW_sivK1yBQxe3WzyW245Dx1SansU_GriLKcXCSOH-m8JhoPZDuaAb_2OtXe0zgOcqc8LSLpTxzxKwrVjPcPjF98JmDnnZ_C8seApX8VtUBP7VQ8F_otvgzWeLwYwWO7cN7XA/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+181.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Til the next time!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-83642799893552621582014-08-10T05:00:00.000-07:002014-08-11T07:36:40.871-07:00The Italian Job: Leaning in Pisa, discovering Dolce Acqua and the Lyon's share of chocolates<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The kids
turned round to each other. ‘This can’t
be it Mum – check the map again.’ The big glass building loomed over us,
incongruous in its translucent beauty against the dingy surrounding areas, and
Garmin the sat nav confirmed that this was indeed the address of our
hotel. We wandered into the big white
reception with its Matrix like glass counters and big plasma screens, and the
boys looked at me hopefully – ‘Even if it isn’t our hotel, can we stay here?’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I’m not
sure what we were expecting really, when we booked all of our hotels before our
trip. I do know that budget came
foremost, parking next, and location third.
When a teenager veers from being
a child in one place to an adult in another, and when despite his being the
right age for a kid, but tall enough to count as an adult (when it comes to
beds and food) it becomes a bit of a minefield.
Most of our bookings had hastily scribbled addendums or requests from me
– could we possibly have a late check in, could they clarify what a cot bed was
(in most cases a foldaway) and in all honesty we breathed a sigh of relief
every time a couiffered receptionist confirmed that they were expecting us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07FmF3Vvke9SDJrGDP0hY4TriO5CxdfVKViIuoFO0h22tpaxngHAmEuDwsQaV1uCwkyWqQ_R0nmusWYgv0L8fMVpsoWrJ7NOSF4EIiHrmuJL1504TOmqZIbChKN1KGKyKHgM8mCg5ngo/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07FmF3Vvke9SDJrGDP0hY4TriO5CxdfVKViIuoFO0h22tpaxngHAmEuDwsQaV1uCwkyWqQ_R0nmusWYgv0L8fMVpsoWrJ7NOSF4EIiHrmuJL1504TOmqZIbChKN1KGKyKHgM8mCg5ngo/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+023.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The modern environment of the Hotel San Ranieri, Pisa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We were
indeed staying at the hotel and the boys whooped with joy as they charged
around using key cards to switch all the lights on and off, ran amongst the
sculptures in the trendy garden bar, as G supped another local blond beer. The next morning we set off for Pisa,
fortified by a good sleep and a large
breakfast. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAxuvuu9XsPM1ZTdZ5-3-6KDZ9RoiulBBHlSoc305Q0-KO-jlRhlW14oeJopkraNLC0VbtuhDYo-aLQxyyI3kTuXbECpeP9U-Qon8aoUV0KCSbEe8hIE49MeqGpjQp7SOJAihLtxtgqg/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUAxuvuu9XsPM1ZTdZ5-3-6KDZ9RoiulBBHlSoc305Q0-KO-jlRhlW14oeJopkraNLC0VbtuhDYo-aLQxyyI3kTuXbECpeP9U-Qon8aoUV0KCSbEe8hIE49MeqGpjQp7SOJAihLtxtgqg/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+001.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the sign into the city leaned...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The tower
was all that we expected and more. For a
start it was actually incredibly beautifully ornate. Secondly, it really really leaned. A lot more than we had expected, and where
the architects had attempted to right the lean, there was a distinct banana-ing
in the structure. Along with several hundreds of tourists we took pictures of
the boys ‘pushing the tower’, decided against queuing for an hour to climb the
249 steps up the tower, and sat on the grass people watching. ‘Can you see what she’s doing?’ I asked in
incredulity as I watched a girl twerking ‘against the tower’ as her boyfriend
took the shots. ‘Yes’ G replied, shading
his hand against the sun, ‘I’m quite enjoying the view’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT59KDvDEKP7jdkLUXiQ0kjem6vuBq9A-pfbFSoMky7yINvyhs61eZUZ9tAYKsfCMlMWfgsB-_4szwNFDKkei-1mxSwn3w42P9DX5A2kdm3EEv1255Qzw7SlAtJ2WSfR1dAukSZGO9r9Q/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT59KDvDEKP7jdkLUXiQ0kjem6vuBq9A-pfbFSoMky7yINvyhs61eZUZ9tAYKsfCMlMWfgsB-_4szwNFDKkei-1mxSwn3w42P9DX5A2kdm3EEv1255Qzw7SlAtJ2WSfR1dAukSZGO9r9Q/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+055.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgZr_nNBOzdyndgImJX2fCQVRgfstu_cOIW30er3nN7cl9J-pmV5V3q4ZPnYX_lO4KQo6I8B8JoZ28Dn5TtBy5DhEYeKmZCJuPgsrfph740yZhhl1zxpN4zJfLlDw_Ax1ZP6lfsVy4Cw/s1600/lewis+graffitti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgZr_nNBOzdyndgImJX2fCQVRgfstu_cOIW30er3nN7cl9J-pmV5V3q4ZPnYX_lO4KQo6I8B8JoZ28Dn5TtBy5DhEYeKmZCJuPgsrfph740yZhhl1zxpN4zJfLlDw_Ax1ZP6lfsVy4Cw/s1600/lewis+graffitti.jpg" height="320" width="152" /></a><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Pisa was a
laid back place with a lot of students and a university with an excellent
reputation. The restaurants had reasonably priced menus and there was a very
warm vibe everywhere we walked, from the bridges to the piazzas to the tower to
the steady clip clopping of the tourist horse drawn carriages lazily ambling
down the side streets.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But we had
to get on – our journey was drawing to a close and we were on the home
straight. Next stop was Dolce
Acqua. ‘Where?’ asked every Southern
Italian we had encountered en route.
‘Where?’ asked our receptionist in Pisa, and indeed, no hotel in that
area suiting our criteria had come up in our internet searches, so we had had
to make do with the seaside resort of Diano Marino, with plans to visit Dolce
Acqua the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The hotel
in Diano Marino could have been a hotel in Blackpool. It had a swimming pool, coachloads of British
tourists, and was saved only by the breakfast the next morning. Diano Marino
itself was like any seaside resort in Europe – bright lights, cafes, burnt
holiday makers, a souvenir knife and bong shop, and all the beaches seemed to
be privately controlled. We were pleased
to get away and follow the signs to Dolce Acqua, up in the mountains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The sole
reason that we went to Dolce Acqua was that two of the three boys had studied
it for ‘Topic’ at school in Year 4 for a brief period. We have no idea why,
perhaps at one point one of the teachers had gone there on holiday, but at 20km
square and with a population of 2000, it was quite hard to find. But we did,
and there were 7 car parks servicing the town, all full, the number plates
belying a multitude of nationalities. We
abandoned the car on a side street and wandered into the town where the clouds
darkened ominously. It was there that I saw the bridge – the Ponte Vecchio that
Claude Monet had captured to canvas all those years ago, and at the same time a
light bulb went off in Little Man’s head and he waved at it excitedly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6waGq-rpfe5Vhnkt24SQZht-zWqFMcd4U4O6hv6YDLjkk8KyDMfZvBfO_4AtiYDysLW7hYc3j3_v0tqtF78BYY4lR9aUNSnqcTff3iuphqKTsTiEC9Jm2C6xGSwpn9yV162we68TVui0/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6waGq-rpfe5Vhnkt24SQZht-zWqFMcd4U4O6hv6YDLjkk8KyDMfZvBfO_4AtiYDysLW7hYc3j3_v0tqtF78BYY4lR9aUNSnqcTff3iuphqKTsTiEC9Jm2C6xGSwpn9yV162we68TVui0/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+122.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monet and the Ponte Vecchio</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8njEIMBiatWtwsU7V-jDTYqzJ1_LGFQhPsKEH3_WXkyXFbbKDgtr-vyyt4XJjELDW0ZVZcqQLoGr6DEtuNxu0lv_pdwGss41PHzAePRsfP2PSxwKqQa7RP3j18ZXlVs6IpQed8mgcps/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8njEIMBiatWtwsU7V-jDTYqzJ1_LGFQhPsKEH3_WXkyXFbbKDgtr-vyyt4XJjELDW0ZVZcqQLoGr6DEtuNxu0lv_pdwGss41PHzAePRsfP2PSxwKqQa7RP3j18ZXlVs6IpQed8mgcps/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+096.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somewhere on that bridge is my family...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZs76Mji4H3EQ_yb6sWnuv_YC7ct8GZDWAC_HhzwRDeE3Bwz_vDEXJLTjD0FAiPkGHndxmPo4ZXTo42Lxd9ZBNq0d_KqSh-76Ar8j0RzTx9ScBx783J9_cDIL07tDw_tgVmHNv02ZI0k/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYZs76Mji4H3EQ_yb6sWnuv_YC7ct8GZDWAC_HhzwRDeE3Bwz_vDEXJLTjD0FAiPkGHndxmPo4ZXTo42Lxd9ZBNq0d_KqSh-76Ar8j0RzTx9ScBx783J9_cDIL07tDw_tgVmHNv02ZI0k/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+101.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The hidden secrets of Dolce Acqua</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Thinking
that this was it, the sum total of Dolce Acqua, we wandered over the bridge
from the new town to the old bit, in an attempt to get to the ruined castle at
the top of the hill. In doing so we
entered what can only be described as an alternate world. One in which Diagon Alley out of Harry Potter
would sit very comfortably – where houses piled higgledy piggledy on top of one
another and alleyways opened up to reveal artisans working in darkened rooms
and teeny weeny cafes exuded aromas of garlic and frying onions. And there were
loads of guest houses behind tiny doors.
None of which had come up on my searches because of the parking
criteria. We had a wonderful day there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Lyon stood
impassively before us, our last hotel of the tour looking down on us loftily –
offering us a sumptuous apartment with a kitchenette, English channels on the
tv, which was good because it was also the only place in which we were charged
for using the wifi. It was a little
wearily that we dragged ourselves out for the evening, but we were delighted
that we had done so, because it was a city with a lot to offer – a big opera
house, piazzas, and eateries influenced by the huge immigrant population. We found a tiny restaurant in which I had
turbot with coriander, Middle Son had fish (our translation only stretched to
that) with a crab butter, and the other three had beef. We ordered a Pot –
which is literally a carafe of the local wine of choice, and G had another
local ale which was in a small bottle but with a big punch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7HpJe5Ltr-91BuU3PyoqvX3dmZzZwgBpzqdb2iwmKov3h-i33JSWz2GD1_AWjGr7jJCSN9v0S_41DJyP0NkR-GYXq7g4LV5PeOPQpGtZAJKL_9osz_3QV1l2leccjCoMFZeJKhidSHZE/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+132.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7HpJe5Ltr-91BuU3PyoqvX3dmZzZwgBpzqdb2iwmKov3h-i33JSWz2GD1_AWjGr7jJCSN9v0S_41DJyP0NkR-GYXq7g4LV5PeOPQpGtZAJKL_9osz_3QV1l2leccjCoMFZeJKhidSHZE/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+132.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The silk merchants of Lyon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0fRBkeeqeIq7bBED95gyhl4bRskeOEQDyGOrZXf3rPpw9pLlBu7gq7hEWdXReNSIs0Y0vrbpu_wDwtkMBnfAyJXZGKkPxQWttMtlfDjnMImUTpQsoD5EaR9UFn0dMvyx39rgAjduMR8/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA0fRBkeeqeIq7bBED95gyhl4bRskeOEQDyGOrZXf3rPpw9pLlBu7gq7hEWdXReNSIs0Y0vrbpu_wDwtkMBnfAyJXZGKkPxQWttMtlfDjnMImUTpQsoD5EaR9UFn0dMvyx39rgAjduMR8/s1600/pisa.+dolce+acqua+and+lyon+154.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yup... chocolate heaven</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Lyon is
famous for silk and chocolate. I’m not
that fussed on silk, but we all enjoy a bit of chocolate and had read up about
a chocolate shop that had its own ‘laboratory’ and the next morning we wandered
into town on a mission. A couple of
wrong turnings later and we had arrived at Sebastien Bouillet and were stunned at
the selection on offer. Unfortunately
the laboratory tours closed over August, but the chocolatiers were happy to
help us choose something to sample from the cakes and chocolates on display. They were not cheap, but melted in the mouth,
and were the perfect accompaniment to our coffee and pastries for breakfast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sated, we
looked at one another. This was going to
be a big journey home – our longest drive of the trip, some 634 kilometres to Calais, and then a 2 hour journey from Folkestone to home. We had
a night time Eurotunnel crossing booked, and needed to set off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As we
swerved the wrong way down a one way street in an attempt to leave Lyon, none
of us flinched at the blaring horns of the frustrated French drivers. I just
threw my arms up in a Gallic shrug, as G screeched the gears into reverse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘Ros Bif
coming through!’ the kids yelled as we careered towards Calais.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-13731600161794278582014-08-06T02:08:00.001-07:002014-08-06T02:14:06.206-07:00The Italian Job: Sorrento<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Ten days in
Sorrento is good for the soul – at least it was good for us. To have a break after so much travelling and
touring was timely – and the addition of a swimming pool in the sticky heat meant
that the boys had reached a state of
nirvana. It didn’t take us long to get
settled into the sprawling Villa Giuliapina (named after the two sisters who
owned it) in a small village called San Agata. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
friendly agent Carmine (his catch phrase was ‘Hey… it’s no problem’) soon made
himself indispensable – which was good, because when we plugged the brand new
kettle in we blew the electrics in one of the kitchens (there were two, one
with a professional oven, another with both a built in BBQ and a pizza oven). 3
random visiting men later, all of whom sucked their teeth and gabbled madly
into their mobiles, it was all ‘fixed’ – but we were given strict instructions
not to use the toaster and the kettle at the same time… It may have been
coincidence, but at the same time as the kettle incident the wifi went down,
and for 5 days Carmine kept us updated as to how it was all proceeding, it had
something to do with the bad weather and a tree – resulting in a man in a van
who managed to set up two wifi addresses (one worked upstairs and the other
downstairs). Only in Italy…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9O_FNyyk2bDVGfNDxyJf7ZiohMdkxrDaA9skFQsBzNLSK7GGVyamZLVd7aaDpWhb0ZNAT93V0kMDlNkvdCy8Dq6ANVTe0SIhTyUatPf20eQp_OG3RKO1keXFIXRcjCGRvXyAt4bGu5U/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+061.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG9O_FNyyk2bDVGfNDxyJf7ZiohMdkxrDaA9skFQsBzNLSK7GGVyamZLVd7aaDpWhb0ZNAT93V0kMDlNkvdCy8Dq6ANVTe0SIhTyUatPf20eQp_OG3RKO1keXFIXRcjCGRvXyAt4bGu5U/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+061.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view of the villa from the top terrace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The villa
itself was stunning both in location and as a venue. There were several terraces from which you
could sit with a glass of vino rosso and gaze on an unrivalled view of Vesuvius
across the bay, from the first hazy pink sunrise to the dramatic dark clouds of
the sunsets, the base of the mountain scattered with the shimmering lights of the
buildings and many festas taking place with the occasional burst of fireworks
in the distance (we had to reassure Little Man several times that the volcano
was not just about to erupt). With 5 different areas which were set up for dining,
we were spoiled for choice as to the views, but ended up in the main using the
big old farm table on the main terrace, which was a natural central meeting
point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAx7_50x9dmUS__JRuBy8XcfGFsr6UO4NvtlhbPhAr9rCLyqkWM-ekTVf9eqv8tmADnr8EUN4SAE5QBJrYrtzK3dTB_8RX2K4Pm_RACPkQ1tCXLE1wuqvg29KaMKVpg8KTqrruNcSxSVw/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAx7_50x9dmUS__JRuBy8XcfGFsr6UO4NvtlhbPhAr9rCLyqkWM-ekTVf9eqv8tmADnr8EUN4SAE5QBJrYrtzK3dTB_8RX2K4Pm_RACPkQ1tCXLE1wuqvg29KaMKVpg8KTqrruNcSxSVw/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+069.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view of Vesuvius from the top terrace</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">G’s parents
joined us on the second day. In their
late seventies they are fairly seasoned travelers, but as their age befits, have
started to slow down a little with the odd ache and pain here and there, every
now and again. This enforced laid back approach
suited us fine, as we all wanted to relax, and so G and I took on the manqué of
parents and went on the hunt for food etc as Grandma and Grandad played endless
rounds of cards and table tennis with the boys. G became adept at using the
pizza oven as I swirled my homemade dough with all the wrist action of a true
Italian mama. And everyone piled on
their own combinations of toppings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHUA9Y-CyaUyfNJJySiEQavHhk2RCQWeg28JgjeNCk1B41XF1BvrEhGGz2YZ3PQYTb_EtohvLFZnZSCNDUAgJtQBYk2Z12AZCwLxx29qhCO2LJkkUy9WmJdUIqFLKsBW7KXL84SLZtfg/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHUA9Y-CyaUyfNJJySiEQavHhk2RCQWeg28JgjeNCk1B41XF1BvrEhGGz2YZ3PQYTb_EtohvLFZnZSCNDUAgJtQBYk2Z12AZCwLxx29qhCO2LJkkUy9WmJdUIqFLKsBW7KXL84SLZtfg/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+015.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">making pizza</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMryvf26y7eHF5mOKHxnGqudA2ocSD9O7rflqKzPmsO3TyqUZJLK8F9bljPq4REUVZsDQB0CjD0xI7qgwr3SZG_n4pmoCk0qfKHiH9IgJdcrsIm9RiUz-nEElv7gek_30G2DX5C1Xai0/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmMryvf26y7eHF5mOKHxnGqudA2ocSD9O7rflqKzPmsO3TyqUZJLK8F9bljPq4REUVZsDQB0CjD0xI7qgwr3SZG_n4pmoCk0qfKHiH9IgJdcrsIm9RiUz-nEElv7gek_30G2DX5C1Xai0/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+031.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sous chefs</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQoaTCJE7F2nmpalnlVmAdJY2YQxkpy_-zKNHnTJAR_v7MoKc7O8xCbJPCD03A2t0Npyg4B3ORaViApn98EMQPg0VdJPXC1m-VSrq-leA5TBE1tQUjHLRLIfebimbGJ5Nkgv3hYGcI1Y/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQoaTCJE7F2nmpalnlVmAdJY2YQxkpy_-zKNHnTJAR_v7MoKc7O8xCbJPCD03A2t0Npyg4B3ORaViApn98EMQPg0VdJPXC1m-VSrq-leA5TBE1tQUjHLRLIfebimbGJ5Nkgv3hYGcI1Y/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+045.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pizza dad</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEYRZQUw3BzNjBTvGAoIjd8U6tWYa2fRbrj3gCWFvCJACFtKBO26FTfc5CSRSYTtkSLZj36lrkyq4NckPYjfD35siVn7lm952JvIVzE_IFsLKWV6ylXtX58l_Y90Njn1niwyTHmQaWyo/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSEYRZQUw3BzNjBTvGAoIjd8U6tWYa2fRbrj3gCWFvCJACFtKBO26FTfc5CSRSYTtkSLZj36lrkyq4NckPYjfD35siVn7lm952JvIVzE_IFsLKWV6ylXtX58l_Y90Njn1niwyTHmQaWyo/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+094.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Top of Vesuvius, swathed in cloud</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorBzZ3_KvMkEMzbg4pl5DjKOvT9UnaIwuYupAtX4NVUFgxEdxDLAftC_SHRFjb8KpFRygw78j1yMibTUJ00wZFaO7XgNG787vTNku2tUMMR-4jrDFfvLPyW1zFtJ3XiM93JOo1m5nTYg/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorBzZ3_KvMkEMzbg4pl5DjKOvT9UnaIwuYupAtX4NVUFgxEdxDLAftC_SHRFjb8KpFRygw78j1yMibTUJ00wZFaO7XgNG787vTNku2tUMMR-4jrDFfvLPyW1zFtJ3XiM93JOo1m5nTYg/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+173.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">scooters - the sensible way to travel on the narrow Amalfi roads</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjXWZpfPeDJNlx_tO1o_UQPjoFQLkbVCKzOYEaDS_APIR1_IoOLx-YhMxHGr3C2mE-G15OLJ3fg_VoVLeOBA5FaD2RQwDkwwMEcq0KfmC4mssAHOXrWvguZWKZy-SwW38gfcuTzdAr3g/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrjXWZpfPeDJNlx_tO1o_UQPjoFQLkbVCKzOYEaDS_APIR1_IoOLx-YhMxHGr3C2mE-G15OLJ3fg_VoVLeOBA5FaD2RQwDkwwMEcq0KfmC4mssAHOXrWvguZWKZy-SwW38gfcuTzdAr3g/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+195.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stunning views of the coastline from Ravello</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was a
great family holiday – Carmine had organized (‘No Problem’) a fascinating tour
of Pompeii and I even managed the tough walk up Vesuvius with Grandad, G and
the boys (we abandoned Grandma about a third of the way up, leaving her on a
seat with a bottle of water and strict instructions not to run off with a
gigolo). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We drove along the Amalfi Coast
taking in the sights of Positano, Amalfi and our new favourite, Ravello, with
its absolutely stunning scenery and mixture of Moorish architecture, big bossy
flowers and faux Renaissance courtyards coupled with the hippy atmosphere so beloved
of the Bloomsbury set in days gone by. Grandma and I escaped for a few hours
one day for some girlie shopping in Sorrento, and we had a fabulous family day
in Capri – a private boat trip with a friendly (if not entirely intelligible)
driver Mario (yes, the boys had fun with that one) over to the island, then a
hair raising bus ride up to the main piazza, and window shopping in the
designer stores before jumping back on the boat for swims in the azure sea and
in little coral caves. Bliss.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvW06EGLA7SGOjy05aL0jNspn-wFGa-oLV8Ny3fV6lHluqdimE0tmdnh_b6sFQG83wcfRl_Vjsdo8tR3JCeqj5UyETzzN09MEI98_M12i2ytgKHTZUoiwl73upN9kFlL0GK5NAjKHfUo/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvW06EGLA7SGOjy05aL0jNspn-wFGa-oLV8Ny3fV6lHluqdimE0tmdnh_b6sFQG83wcfRl_Vjsdo8tR3JCeqj5UyETzzN09MEI98_M12i2ytgKHTZUoiwl73upN9kFlL0GK5NAjKHfUo/s1600/sorrento+and+capri+122.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Capri</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It all
ended in a final joint birthday meal for Grandma and Eldest Son, who have one
day between them and has been celebrated as such in the UK for a number of
years, as well as Spain and the States.
Our private chef turned up (yes, it was Carmine … ‘No Problem’) and he
cooked up an amazing selection of local dishes and wines, complete with
Tiramisu cake, disco lights and a full sound system to which with the help of
some locally made limoncello, even the grandparents were shaking their booty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We were all
sad to wave goodbye to Carmine and the villa as he took the keys and zoomed off
on his scooter. The car wheezed as we
settled into our seats and Garmin fizzed back into life again with some wildly
coloured routes from which we could choose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The journey
back to England had begun. Next stop, a
7 hour drive to Pisa, with its eponymous tower.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">No Problem. </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-51057901937585625602014-08-01T01:14:00.002-07:002014-08-01T01:14:28.292-07:00The Italian Job:Naples<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">*<i>Most of my blog readers will know of our travels in Italy, an amazing experience. Today I have a guest blogger, none other than my long suffering husband G, who makes his debut into blogging, and will tell you his thoughts so far. Enjoy!</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">This is
my 5th trip to Italy; once with my parents and brother when I was 3, where I
managed to get lost on a beach for 2hrs before wandering into a red cross
station... (my poor mother), twice to
ski with my school (poor teachers), once with my own family + my parents (poor
me £) and now this latest and greatest adventure of which you have been reading
on my Wife’s blog which she has kindly allowed me to 'bomb' just this
once. </span> </div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So
apologies in advance to all of Ruth’s loyal lady fans because it's going to get
blokeish for a bit, which should be a relief to your husbands who will feel a
little less furtive as they peer over your shoulders:)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As I sit
here staring across the bay of Naples to Vesuvius at the start of 10 days of
ultra chill, with a gallon (yep) of local plonk to keep me company, it's as
good a time as any to reflect (whilst my fingers and brain still work) on what
has so far been an inspirational tour.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89TrxfTeTLVgmc2CpQ8UB1U26hyZjZealAqaKbRO2aLq-VRKDHHKBALUFV5hvYHwqevca7Otk3vG2IdTkezVbOc6erXblV2RaNx45hnWR03a4x1bgmTmc7mQQypuDE0NKbJhRaTGuc3E/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89TrxfTeTLVgmc2CpQ8UB1U26hyZjZealAqaKbRO2aLq-VRKDHHKBALUFV5hvYHwqevca7Otk3vG2IdTkezVbOc6erXblV2RaNx45hnWR03a4x1bgmTmc7mQQypuDE0NKbJhRaTGuc3E/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+005.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pop up shop in Naples</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">I love
these types of trips on many levels. I'm
discovering new things, I'm with my fab Wife and family but I'm also on a
junior stag trip with my 3 growing lads all of whom I am quietly grooming in
the dark arts of laddism under the Lady’s withering gaze. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Driving
has been fine and something I really enjoy. 4 tanks of fuel so far; glaciers,
mountains, tunnels, cities, countryside, coastline and now volcanoes. What's not to enjoy? The car with roof box has done well (not
going to work when Middle Son and Little Man join 6'+ No. 1 son but OK for
now), despite our much publicised electrical mishap :) (erindoors neglected to
mention that I'd had the sad foresight to buy spare fuses - oh yeah). I have driven in Italy before but must have
blanked out the memory of in town / city driving where junction etiquette is
more a matter of country dancing than teutonic, deferential observance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Financially,
it ain’t cheap with the killer cost being food.
There's only so many ham and cheese rolls my family will stomach, so
pretty much every day we have supplented such fare with an </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">ϵ</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">150
meal. Oh yes; and Tourist Tax in every
city we visit, plus endless toll road fees...how to win friends... Beer kills
the pain and on that note I am pleased to say that I have discovered an
incredible series of bottled brews, complete with sediment that I will be
looking up on my return. Italy is
getting into the micro brewery business and with typical style.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Up next
we have a boat trip, a volcano tour + Pompeii, lots of relaxing, then Pisa,
Dolce Aqua, Lyon, Calais, home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGHH2xN7F1mLkQMKKzkrwp46HlaeR0GmNxP03QT-9PSWhSzP1BdUQagNWm3T51Ht6jb8Hfzsm4YNCFGAlH2t7k_MZ1Uh9wS0WG0KiXPcEAd0BTRueJl8YMOBGkgzhMWBGso4zCap1_as/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGHH2xN7F1mLkQMKKzkrwp46HlaeR0GmNxP03QT-9PSWhSzP1BdUQagNWm3T51Ht6jb8Hfzsm4YNCFGAlH2t7k_MZ1Uh9wS0WG0KiXPcEAd0BTRueJl8YMOBGkgzhMWBGso4zCap1_as/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+047.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">streets in Naples hold many secrets</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">But of
all the places so far, all of which I have loved it's been Napoli which has
surprised me most and what has inspired me to put thumb to screen. Dijon was pretty, Milan did in fairness have
more 10/10 ladies (and men, my Wife tells me) per square meter than any place
on earth, Verona more than hinted at the Roman greatness to come, Venice was
awesome in its incredulity and Rome bundled the whole lot together with the
added sublime magnificence of history’s greatest artists. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Naples
is an ugly mess. It's a beautiful, sexy
mess. Men of my generation will remember
those grossly disappointing and diminutive fireworks labelled Vesuvius Eruption
- it's not like those. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga7vJ53NG7isT6_6qe05XTgxj6C-2jzq54ToZZeR_dP3WBDTwzeuGh9kvJAYx7sRXPZ8iC4K4tU0BE9YioHroqOLMlF6L_T1yTXC4SpGENbmePLbkoIxq-O0hfSYKxPitIKv241Tjop8g/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga7vJ53NG7isT6_6qe05XTgxj6C-2jzq54ToZZeR_dP3WBDTwzeuGh9kvJAYx7sRXPZ8iC4K4tU0BE9YioHroqOLMlF6L_T1yTXC4SpGENbmePLbkoIxq-O0hfSYKxPitIKv241Tjop8g/s1600/naples+and+sorrento+045.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lady's house is built on an old roman theatre</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">At first
glance Napoli is a shanty town with an interesting old quarter (rather like
Warsaw if you've been). The guide books try to be positive but all feel obliged
to advise visitors to beware at night.
The omnipresent graffitti hints at the Bronx, the external wiring
suggests a temporary, post apocalyptic world where only today matters.
Flagstone roads, suicidal scooter riders, masses of students from the 3
universities, rubbish on streets, shops selling everything including tiny
outlets offering modelled 'cribs'.
Tourist signage that sucks as if to say 'find it yourself if you're that
bothered'. We saw amazing marble sculptures
and some of the miles of tunnels used over the years to hide, attack, preserve
and protect the people of this place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3CnYRXdGMW_lQOj1-Zzb9AQ31mGIzptDUK8BgmGySmJzbkcpAxD3SwNvwI_PIn8rl9JUSNEYgldQlVkVrZu7kI92P8nU-wG6hYa1X8gFC9CBemaaPxczLdGT19nzSFgHHirQTeVeucs/s1600/glenn+naples2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3CnYRXdGMW_lQOj1-Zzb9AQ31mGIzptDUK8BgmGySmJzbkcpAxD3SwNvwI_PIn8rl9JUSNEYgldQlVkVrZu7kI92P8nU-wG6hYa1X8gFC9CBemaaPxczLdGT19nzSFgHHirQTeVeucs/s1600/glenn+naples2.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vesuvius - the slumbering giant - a view from our villa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Mafia,
war, civil war, volcanic eruptions; all have smashed this City into what it is,
and isn't. But as I sit here now and
gaze at Napoli from without it all makes sense.
The City simply refuses to kneel before the slumbering giant and its inevitable
wrath. Vesuvius will have its day at
some point but until that time Neapolitans will continue to live for the moment
and offer a not too respectful 'ciao' to their sleeping mountain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Now,
where's the vino.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoPlainText">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">G<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-67631800565145187142014-07-24T22:40:00.000-07:002014-07-24T23:37:11.908-07:00The Italian Job: Rome<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">They say that
all roads lead to Rome. Well, that is,
until you get lost. And then it’s all a
bit hopeless as cars veer in front of you, double park with their hazard lights on
whilst the driver saunters over to the coffee shop; motorbikes weave
precariously in and out of the cars
knocking off wing mirrors as they go, and which side of the road, and how much
of it you use, is negotiable. And if you
are in a car with GB plates it becomes a little game for the Romans – we were
even cut up gladiator style by a sweet smiling teenage girl in a Smart car… </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">So
this is when one has to adopt another saying – When in Rome, do as the
Romans. G became proficient at charging
into non moving traffic, me at deciphering the mood of the drivers and the
general direction in which we were going, and the boys at buttoning it as we
swerved this way and that with all the passion (if not finesse) of the Italian
drivers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Luckily our
hotel, the Ca’ Selva Candida, was a little oasis of a hotel on the outskirts of
Rome, to which we would return daily, sinking into the chairs at the bar with
the sighs of the seasoned traveler. This has been a little gem of a
find, the rooms are big and spacious, the staff friendly and exceedingly
helpful – all have got to know us – and although we only stayed 3 nights, we
felt very welcome. Stefano at Reception
recommended a car park in town whilst we caught the Metro into
the city centre. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so we
did. (After a couple of wrong turns in
which we ended up in a small alleyway with no turning circle and all the Italians
came out to watch and suck their teeth and debate amongst themselves as to
which bit of the car we would hit on the bulging brick walls).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Catching
the Metro was easy – again once you had worked out what type of ticket you
needed and how long for. And once we
were in Rome we took the advice of Liz, a reader of the blog, and got on one of
the open top tour buses. There are
several companies that offer this service, and after looking at the routes that
they offer, we decided to go for the blue bus, as that covered the parts of the
city that we wanted to see. It’s a great
idea for getting a general layout of a city, you can get on and off where you
please, and simply catch the next one when you’ve finished sight seeing. It also has an audio guide – ours was in 13
languages which pleased the boys no end as they messed around with the
settings. Mine seemed to be permanently
stuck with Italian in one ear and English in the other, but I got the general
idea.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBFMtegiKJMvYRHVuQcxRBCpwDZefnba6HH6d2ptC-rMer51c-LlBHxl-dn_KMMgO7twr45u_2fijJLJI2EiZ2f9zNFoYj3R2TdAjLTvgvlT5f1AIUTY1Z9vvQIoYAL8_s9d32btgE4k/s1600/rome+camera+013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxBFMtegiKJMvYRHVuQcxRBCpwDZefnba6HH6d2ptC-rMer51c-LlBHxl-dn_KMMgO7twr45u_2fijJLJI2EiZ2f9zNFoYj3R2TdAjLTvgvlT5f1AIUTY1Z9vvQIoYAL8_s9d32btgE4k/s1600/rome+camera+013.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Colosseum</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was
fabulous. Coming from the UK, we get a
bit blasé about antiquities and ruins and ancient history. But Rome is simply
breathtaking. Even the oldest smallest
pillars had intricate carvings, there were thousands of statues from those
framing St Peters to those above shop doorways.
The Pantheon with its open air domed ceiling was a marvel. The Circus Maximus, now a dust bowl, still
evocative of days gone past. The
Colosseum, and small Roman ruins, open for all to walk by and stop, and
look. Paintings, glorious in their size
and colour. Great mansions like the Villa Borghese, and gardens, and hundreds
and hundreds of shops and restaurants.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzV7sdDs0TgeVTUJ_iX8rq-0AUwnxenlAnnX20M-vO77b5T_Iche3bNBuu6iA1TY-apgS1yxGqkWIth6nF_bZSvtpChVL4wqFoiYdjdLVOJVal3Sj_b757avJLWnuxxP1_f9Rdj7D26c/s1600/rome+camera+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinzV7sdDs0TgeVTUJ_iX8rq-0AUwnxenlAnnX20M-vO77b5T_Iche3bNBuu6iA1TY-apgS1yxGqkWIth6nF_bZSvtpChVL4wqFoiYdjdLVOJVal3Sj_b757avJLWnuxxP1_f9Rdj7D26c/s1600/rome+camera+029.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trevi Fountain, under scaffolding</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A few of
you have been asking how my ankle has been faring. I tore my Achilles tendon over a year ago and
have subsequently developed acute tendonitis in my right ankle. This manifests itself as a large painful lump,
with swelling which goes up and down, depending on how much exercise I have
done. I have had a number of physio
sessions, and two saline injections under local anaesthetic to break down the
scar tissue, which seems to have alleviated the pain. But there is no doubt that the travelling and
walking is paying its toll.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NnaUiaWX5MNSg_LwMCGoxH5OlnFfl2qmL1w8Fl5-5_XUzpST5CrpVPwGRgmnzEJ0ete9XVhQzaoTRLtGZVhuoC43H_wX4TiY-GONuOCGpuPP-B_NK8HuKjxx4246yprmf1Un1Caz738/s1600/venice+iphone+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NnaUiaWX5MNSg_LwMCGoxH5OlnFfl2qmL1w8Fl5-5_XUzpST5CrpVPwGRgmnzEJ0ete9XVhQzaoTRLtGZVhuoC43H_wX4TiY-GONuOCGpuPP-B_NK8HuKjxx4246yprmf1Un1Caz738/s1600/venice+iphone+015.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Strapped up for Day 1</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The night
we arrived in Rome, I was slightly alarmed to see that my good ankle had developed
a small painful lump on the tendon. This
was clearly the result of a year of over compensation, but did not bode
well. Hence our decision to do the bus
tour. Underneath my well padded leather British
Knights trainers were heel inserts and both feet were strapped up in support
bandages. But that evening it was clear
that I was in trouble. And what was
worse was that the next day we had booked to see the Vatican Museum and the
thing that was on my bucket list, the Sistine Chapel. The Vatican Museum is
vast, our rather enthusiastic receptionist told us it was roughly 7km of
walking (unverified) and I needed my hiking feet. So G and the boys brought back two buckets of
ice from the bar and we wrapped my ankles in ice and towels, and I slept in ice
all night, waking up to a slightly soggy bed, but no lump on the good ankle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The Vatican
City was simply astounding. Every room in the Vatican Museum assuaged your senses in a way that is
incomparable – from the Egypt room, to the Animal room, to the painted frescos
on the ceilings in the Geographic room or the carvings on the walls, there was
simply a brain overload everywhere you looked. And after a long walk, through corridors,
up and down stairs, I drew a deep breath before I entered the Sistine Chapel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimIX6-O2EaCXbwLQEz71y36xGveYSABQkIvfFmPidOut0kEv9knmNpmd8Nac56gTw-K3is2ElDF9_AUddIlcCn6Nd2AWlVwKyscoN3V2PqQ-p9OB90iI9VhqazjgYkyr03yDBmwseBvh4/s1600/rome+camera+070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimIX6-O2EaCXbwLQEz71y36xGveYSABQkIvfFmPidOut0kEv9knmNpmd8Nac56gTw-K3is2ElDF9_AUddIlcCn6Nd2AWlVwKyscoN3V2PqQ-p9OB90iI9VhqazjgYkyr03yDBmwseBvh4/s1600/rome+camera+070.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Egypt Room - mummified woman from Phebes</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYZ2D6-QNsMYQRK69J-e5j0AhCwlIcxObaprMrvn4B3G1R73pxdrKHI4-fQokuNmUVcmXwMCcsnMmzlA_zDgbvZ1DIX5K95YiF8GHpN9s7cmehUe5rlY6nMdh49H6m31Cul5B3Yahzb4/s1600/rome+camera+063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYZ2D6-QNsMYQRK69J-e5j0AhCwlIcxObaprMrvn4B3G1R73pxdrKHI4-fQokuNmUVcmXwMCcsnMmzlA_zDgbvZ1DIX5K95YiF8GHpN9s7cmehUe5rlY6nMdh49H6m31Cul5B3Yahzb4/s1600/rome+camera+063.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adam and Eve in their Earthly Paradise (Wenzel) - Middle Son's favourite of the day</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1nrE_JRai_KIxNG4pPJkGr-INXnDOZZIYOND9iaTgH_kb2PqZI6PnHPlP2P182mY4BSfwjiS8ad6MHh38I7-kP6SzMzK3YpKJfZ3e1EJQfWTtnQ0GLkopYmfJVMz72nHiSrND12IKhs/s1600/rome+camera+077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit1nrE_JRai_KIxNG4pPJkGr-INXnDOZZIYOND9iaTgH_kb2PqZI6PnHPlP2P182mY4BSfwjiS8ad6MHh38I7-kP6SzMzK3YpKJfZ3e1EJQfWTtnQ0GLkopYmfJVMz72nHiSrND12IKhs/s1600/rome+camera+077.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stunning ceiling in the Geographic room </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmiQ-bM3UtSHxbLkB5Rc6zEXAeGMkM30b_F06DWYwUmsSNIxU1vYbWlAymNunjOQeGE-eunuLosr1F4v6OBgNkiaKtKTokDbPGBGL49_NvSStmaS9sJqktlkWARXMOMpv8T40WBQaaTjc/s1600/rome+camera+096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmiQ-bM3UtSHxbLkB5Rc6zEXAeGMkM30b_F06DWYwUmsSNIxU1vYbWlAymNunjOQeGE-eunuLosr1F4v6OBgNkiaKtKTokDbPGBGL49_NvSStmaS9sJqktlkWARXMOMpv8T40WBQaaTjc/s1600/rome+camera+096.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Three little cherubs (not mine)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">As an art
student at A level, I studied Michelangelo, and one of my favourite books to
date is The Agony and the Ecstasy by Irving Stone. The Sistine Chapel was worth it – the agony
of getting there was worth the ecstasy of being there. That’s all I can say really. It is not often
that I can’t put into words what I felt, but this is one of those times! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GY7JqVSjhSB_LHeWl1CHBdr35l-cXtGSUUShniVYBQYTuABZIuASH10lU1qF88iT5CKb6IauSsqYLk6VoxiU-H5v8bgii-xVDNwHHzbtrhf3lP_kqYtzPiwGr_yiSyvfB8Za9HyfSnw/s1600/rome+camera+112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4GY7JqVSjhSB_LHeWl1CHBdr35l-cXtGSUUShniVYBQYTuABZIuASH10lU1qF88iT5CKb6IauSsqYLk6VoxiU-H5v8bgii-xVDNwHHzbtrhf3lP_kqYtzPiwGr_yiSyvfB8Za9HyfSnw/s1600/rome+camera+112.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My three little cherubs outside St Peters</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Our last
night in Rome before setting off to Naples was spent in a restaurant local to the hotel and the boys let off
steam from all the culture in the play park and enjoyed showing their ‘jumping off the swings mid air’ skills
to some local kids who were there for a birthday party. Amazing how they
managed to converse – Little Man using exaggerated mime, and the younger kids
using broken English, whilst the teenage girls giggled coyly at our elder boys.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hSxX7NZEf03yWCRe6gCN42rnGuQHbkcCxSmnVRSoidhTr24GPty5xP4Q3dtH0KDwO9OuqHE3x4iM7f5TixU3UzRbttqcStMlucf1BzUv1ZZzKrziYwWcKzaAnzJ2Z8zU23iKAC4TQsk/s1600/rome+camera+142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8hSxX7NZEf03yWCRe6gCN42rnGuQHbkcCxSmnVRSoidhTr24GPty5xP4Q3dtH0KDwO9OuqHE3x4iM7f5TixU3UzRbttqcStMlucf1BzUv1ZZzKrziYwWcKzaAnzJ2Z8zU23iKAC4TQsk/s1600/rome+camera+142.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">G and I sat
and watched them as we washed down our pesce alla griglia with grappa and
limoncello.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlYQIxygpRoNmmL5uFLhmceqfYwQanRnym4Ms8m2-T1OfQLGIoJXBjU5wizbdoP4vFThEVhN0MvvKdVi5CaGvaYMdYyzObx3cb2CKo0UWlJ8NLYx-x9S6XIT8Ex2yGUN_TFLwJ9sh5N4/s1600/rome+camera+131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLlYQIxygpRoNmmL5uFLhmceqfYwQanRnym4Ms8m2-T1OfQLGIoJXBjU5wizbdoP4vFThEVhN0MvvKdVi5CaGvaYMdYyzObx3cb2CKo0UWlJ8NLYx-x9S6XIT8Ex2yGUN_TFLwJ9sh5N4/s1600/rome+camera+131.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I said,
when in Rome, do as the Romans. And so
we did.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-1188811145874033312014-07-23T12:07:00.000-07:002014-07-23T12:07:51.458-07:00The Italian Job: Venice<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Venice was
not far away from Verona, Garmin our sat nav had cheerfully told us that it
would take 1hr 50mins to get there, but of course we hadn’t banked on it being
a Sunday… In the queue on the main route
into Venice I saw cars from the Netherlands, Germany, France, Spain, Denmark,
Sweden and Italy. But only one other
with UK plates. I had done a bit of
research into parking, as we were arriving in peak season, and it seemed that a
man made parking island called Tronchetto fitted our purpose best, being
secure, near a water bus station and not astronomically priced.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was also
beautifully signposted, and I think we were lulled into a false sense of
security about Venice- because certainly from that point onwards we had no idea
what we were doing or where we were going!
Waterbuses veered from station to station avoiding water taxis, private
boats and even a water ambulance. By the
time we got to the part where we were staying, it had taken 2 water buses to
get there – and as they weaved in and out of the lanes and down the Grand
Canal, we had had several instances of déjà vu, and no idea where we actually
were on the island when we and our bags were deposited. Luckily, the lady from Ca’Riccio, the
apartments at which we were staying, had anticipated this and provided us with
a photographic route to the hotel, which I have to confess we kept with us at
all times just in case we got a bit lost!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Apartment
Rachele was big and had everything in it that we needed. The woman who met us explained that everyone
had taken part in a Festa (Italian equivalent of a fiesta) the night before and
was feeling a bit jaded. We thought we
would fit right in…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Wandering
through such well known sights such as San Marcos square, past the Realto
Bridge and through the cobbled streets on which hundreds of shops showed masks
which ranged from the ridiculous to the sublime, or brightly coloured artefacts
and jewellry in Murano glass, or artisans at work, carving, painting, gondola
part making – we even saw a gravestone maker – we were struck by how despite
the incessant procession of tourists snapping up shots greedily, the Venetians
managed to retain their own sense of identity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMTWHfK52NRxHrercJc-pe-q0o7MyLMVMXs01brXRh5llmM9l1tJ4TGMtf9af2hcAFL6ifCluJUxU4V7HPv6nYUz3wJebX3NoS2LfMGx4JKxMCHlJt0d7QXtRMpVnjP0U7JCOlgaJMLJA/s1600/verona+camera+142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMTWHfK52NRxHrercJc-pe-q0o7MyLMVMXs01brXRh5llmM9l1tJ4TGMtf9af2hcAFL6ifCluJUxU4V7HPv6nYUz3wJebX3NoS2LfMGx4JKxMCHlJt0d7QXtRMpVnjP0U7JCOlgaJMLJA/s1600/verona+camera+142.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Animal masks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQfI3ohldTNI89sBKYnHvLbcDvHFXa9mxTW3t_zgg21IoSY8o9f3z0zrOZrfIfWYjPrnHief7Gb6HON6rZGKabPbHk1dFqePPwXUcga8XbHGwR3DGCK_ojOka4PAIHEzg0wgeKvN-mbY/s1600/verona+camera+156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmQfI3ohldTNI89sBKYnHvLbcDvHFXa9mxTW3t_zgg21IoSY8o9f3z0zrOZrfIfWYjPrnHief7Gb6HON6rZGKabPbHk1dFqePPwXUcga8XbHGwR3DGCK_ojOka4PAIHEzg0wgeKvN-mbY/s1600/verona+camera+156.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning masks with Swarvoski crystals</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And as for
the place – it was stunning in its setting with little water lanes snaking
round big buildings with hidden steps and decaying brickwork. Black gondolas with stripy gondoliers
pointing out places of interest to the tourists who sat taking selfies and
chattering excitedly. Bridges, lots of
them, made of brick or iron. Hundreds of
cafes and restaurants in piazzas, or in streets. Bustling markets selling fruit and veg, or
brightly coloured handbags and clothing.
The pigeon feeding Senegalese were replaced by Indians, who just as
effectively stripped the tourists of their Euros once anyone got out a camera.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfL4ukVVyEJGdIyChw1U3Lnxekl96JIsfq5UL6M2lp0QAdeTDTixDKewLojr9t5WfuCmyKBvn5M-c4QR01DDApCSp2qOih6EY9zPvkBYYWY8-LQXBnaQYfFWtb7Em0rasqkUxQjC10imY/s1600/verona+camera+089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfL4ukVVyEJGdIyChw1U3Lnxekl96JIsfq5UL6M2lp0QAdeTDTixDKewLojr9t5WfuCmyKBvn5M-c4QR01DDApCSp2qOih6EY9zPvkBYYWY8-LQXBnaQYfFWtb7Em0rasqkUxQjC10imY/s1600/verona+camera+089.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">National drink of Venice - Prosecco, which we were happy to imbibe!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Believe it
or not, we had been travelling for 6 days, and there comes a point at which you
hit the travel ‘wall’ which is similar to any other ‘wall’ be it running, working or eating flat out – i.e.
you feel tired, emotional, and that you can’t go on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6IPt9N_2aqeB-kk0-XiD5jd6sy1rVGJxxCbRHbIP5RJRiMPixQKE8jI4VwA-HYW782X058Ywop4uyYpOSStvz1kRYGz1E2uCRM40Cbw5CeW3f4Uk7YY77WwmVhMUfO6IGngumi-rLGc/s1600/verona+camera+164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj6IPt9N_2aqeB-kk0-XiD5jd6sy1rVGJxxCbRHbIP5RJRiMPixQKE8jI4VwA-HYW782X058Ywop4uyYpOSStvz1kRYGz1E2uCRM40Cbw5CeW3f4Uk7YY77WwmVhMUfO6IGngumi-rLGc/s1600/verona+camera+164.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYqianhpK4LtbResARTKZDmHdON8sddwpnfau5X30GVXKf4hNgTa2QV8JlwSE7E19tAZwBbyyxR9Bwa3HHc5ijY4HWxTARJiDTQNO23XtqnPM7tKL-aFgqaKh_-kkrenL2zcCE0q5aiw/s1600/venice+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijYqianhpK4LtbResARTKZDmHdON8sddwpnfau5X30GVXKf4hNgTa2QV8JlwSE7E19tAZwBbyyxR9Bwa3HHc5ijY4HWxTARJiDTQNO23XtqnPM7tKL-aFgqaKh_-kkrenL2zcCE0q5aiw/s1600/venice+031.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thunderstorm in Venice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">This
happened for Little Man the next day. He
had had a disturbed and hot sleep – broken by an enormous thunderstorm and
heavy rainfall… In a bid to not mess everyone’s day up, he got changed and came
out with us, but he looked listless and tired, and so we set some objectives
for the day - things that we knew that he would look forward to. We knew from
inside information that the best time to book a gondola without queuing would
be at about 1.00pm which was lunchtime and generally coincided with the hottest
part of the day. We also wanted to cover
several other sights – notably the big fish market, Venecchia glass blowers and
a Facebook friend had recommended the Ferrari store if we had time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2KckIY0uJl4pjYggTkaFF3OoA7d2oy2r65cgvcy4TYFDwf5Vi_wXl_Zoy1Ox93xEipVRkHyZTquS7BuwG06MUJzwcBSZGycuMTD0n3Siz-Q6MW9SnnzaBH8U8njs-DJ2yehA7jQKIJg/s1600/verona+camera+144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2KckIY0uJl4pjYggTkaFF3OoA7d2oy2r65cgvcy4TYFDwf5Vi_wXl_Zoy1Ox93xEipVRkHyZTquS7BuwG06MUJzwcBSZGycuMTD0n3Siz-Q6MW9SnnzaBH8U8njs-DJ2yehA7jQKIJg/s1600/verona+camera+144.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Murano glass in all different shapes and forms</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was hot,
sticky despite the occasional drizzle of rain, and terribly crowded. You couldn’t stop to look in shop windows
even if you wanted to, as the river of tourists caught you up in the
current. We lost Little Man and Middle
Son a couple of times when our hand holds were broken. It was uncomfortable, and slow. We broke free of the crowd to get to the fish
market only to find that it was closed.
We sat on the steps of a grand building in San Marcos square only to get
chased off by an official. We got turned away from a glass blowing place we had
found on the street before Venecchia, because we weren’t on a booked tour. And then we got to Venecchia glass blowers
and the man said we couldn’t go in. In
peak season it was tours only, and no that fact wasn’t publicized in the
brochures and no, we couldn’t pay to go in and join a group. Little Man burst
into great racking sobs of disappointment. It had all been
too much.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And so we
cheated, we found a window, through which we had a perfect view of the
glassblowing demonstration, and we all watched, fascinated, as the artisan blew
a perfect bubble, twisting and turning the molten glass, tapping it at the
relevant time and producing a perfect vase.
And the boys all gave a sharp intake of breath as at the end of the
demonstration he threw that perfect vase back into the molten glass, ready to
do it all over again. And they watched
it twice, and we didn’t pay a cent. And we didn’t buy our glass souvenirs from
their shop. More fool them I say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And from
then on the day went perfectly – a gondola ride in which our quiet gondolier
and Eldest Son found that they had something in common with rowing. Our gondolier had been a singles and doubles
sculls man in his day, and Eldest Son has just progressed from 8’s and quads to
doubles. And although we hadn’t booked a
singing gondolier, he hummed and occasionally broke into song. It was fascinating to see how the gondolas
are not symmetrical, being wider on the right than on the left, and causing it
to list, so that the gondolier can control it with one oar. Each gondola is customized, and very treasured
by its owner. And the sights that you could see from the water, and not accessible
on foot were truly magnificent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GnFaPEPeG5vkEDoYCn4SSaf1cG1d1WUEunrgQTMnXw3GcQzPbBN6zE8WnNJMe9uJmSL6aLIKYkSjDWt-QhoEwzs3zJ9QNR9Pcx_RKMQlqHWXWq_1o5Wriv-0uhq4qQwquledXP5d4jo/s1600/venice+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_GnFaPEPeG5vkEDoYCn4SSaf1cG1d1WUEunrgQTMnXw3GcQzPbBN6zE8WnNJMe9uJmSL6aLIKYkSjDWt-QhoEwzs3zJ9QNR9Pcx_RKMQlqHWXWq_1o5Wriv-0uhq4qQwquledXP5d4jo/s1600/venice+008.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The next
day we packed up and made the long confusing journey out of Venice to
Rome. I settled down to read my first
book of the holiday, as I knew that it was a good 5 hour drive. It was a thriller, and I was hooked. The writing was brilliant, and I could feel
and smell the fire that the hero was trapped in. Except it wasn’t the book, there really was a
small puff of smoke from the in car adapter plugged into the car charger right
by me. All the in car lights had gone
out and the boys awoke from their electronic reverie and started to moan that
their electronics had died. The circuits had been overloaded and the fuse had
blown. I yanked out the charger and it had totally melted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsN0V7vJShcVDhJFnWHB92jrE36LLQUSXsgnEUZp5fC3FC6SaU2Dlwh6xrnx2-Lvmbb5-qbhwPlaFLSrgC9ISnPsly3mty1RtyGwG7hRLyatEEvTjGbUZmpnCDxq0mtQOnrzRCsKzmJMg/s1600/venice+iphone+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsN0V7vJShcVDhJFnWHB92jrE36LLQUSXsgnEUZp5fC3FC6SaU2Dlwh6xrnx2-Lvmbb5-qbhwPlaFLSrgC9ISnPsly3mty1RtyGwG7hRLyatEEvTjGbUZmpnCDxq0mtQOnrzRCsKzmJMg/s1600/venice+iphone+005.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We stopped
as soon as we could in a layby, cooled the car down and changed the fuse so
that we could set up Garmin whilst the kids set up Uno on a nearby picnic table. They looked happy enough. Amazing what a weeks’ travel has done to them
already, and the changes that we have seen in them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Next stop,
as Gregory Peck would say, our Roman Holiday. Watch this space…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-56190993185275033162014-07-21T00:13:00.000-07:002014-07-21T00:25:59.104-07:00The Italian Job: Verona<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The drive
to Verona was quicker than we had anticipated, and indeed, we would have got to
our assignated hotel too early for check in and so we made the decision to head
straight into town and have lunch and maybe get a few sights tucked under our
belts. It was a little hairy entering Verona.
The Italian road system is at times incomprehensible to the Brit. Junctions spring up unexpectedly, signs
disappear, and nothing is ever more complicated than trying to go in a straight
line. But we made it into the centre,
and to Parking Citadella, a funky underground car park with numbered spaces,
above which there was a red or a green light indicating that it was available,
and with tracks from Grease and Dirty Dancing bellowing out of the speakers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">On emerging
above ground and walking into the centre, the old Roman Ampitheatre dominated
the surroundings. Still a working
theatre, with Operas daily from June- August, there were elaborate pieces of
set sitting outside, huge gold lions and big Corinthian pillars. A fully dressed Roman soldier and his lady
resplendent in heavy gold brocade arrived for their shift and stood at the
entrance joking with the many tourists thronging the streets. It was hot, throughout our stay the
temperature has never gone below 33 degrees, and we decided to have lunch in
one of the restaurants nearby before the sight seeing began.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWKVmWTQi1vJHzn4-kiPkSzIFQm5svwcU-hBSKytfTSgiWkOanQCW_-qnBl8pNRTgPFJc39pvbh7915xxvQZoX1RV8TDiG50vpxMYBJqqgzBbOQsddX8y8EANhplJ1OpzqWZGgrS4piY/s1600/verona+camera+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWKVmWTQi1vJHzn4-kiPkSzIFQm5svwcU-hBSKytfTSgiWkOanQCW_-qnBl8pNRTgPFJc39pvbh7915xxvQZoX1RV8TDiG50vpxMYBJqqgzBbOQsddX8y8EANhplJ1OpzqWZGgrS4piY/s1600/verona+camera+012.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roman ampitheatre</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The Teatro
Romana was cool inside, and multi layered, with a number of no access points –
possibly because of the opera, probably because bits of it were being
restored. But there was no doubt that it
was an amazing sight, rising from the cool stone underpasses into the searing
heat of the day and one could imagine many things happening in the arena. The boys and G managed to scramble up to the
very top, with Middle Son attempting to sit in every row on the way down again,
whilst I contented myself with just taking it all in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet_V-85r91Nrc8WdWiq2eRIT4pH25PQaBK38epZy0-Sq8WzpeVk9hw7zzMg9OzTkNZJsEF6yvlgptsPOxYTOFry_uGw67Q2E_Ba-rsXFM7SJ6iPERG-LRzDlUSY9ZdRZ1J1PeFA5K8lc/s1600/verona+camera+038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet_V-85r91Nrc8WdWiq2eRIT4pH25PQaBK38epZy0-Sq8WzpeVk9hw7zzMg9OzTkNZJsEF6yvlgptsPOxYTOFry_uGw67Q2E_Ba-rsXFM7SJ6iPERG-LRzDlUSY9ZdRZ1J1PeFA5K8lc/s1600/verona+camera+038.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">market stall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Next stop
was Piazza della Erbe with its bustling market stalls surrounded by beautiful,
colourful, higgledy piggledy housing with gravity defying balconies laden with
foliage and blooms. Then the Duomo, in which the ceilings soared majestically
above us laden with paintings and intricate carvings, and from one of the
chapels we saw a bride, groom and the wedding party emerging from the marriage
ceremony. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSeCNU76foNl1TrAF17O89Ie7GM9jvmiXOt35h0ibAMfLO0tp817yxUeiY-wAt5z8F8wUWC9S5GcdG9PwFX-IRVuumzYMf0bAzKuXf5LGzo0rWyd5UVePcIdu1YnKd9tb4YFLnl2-VqqU/s1600/verona+camera+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSeCNU76foNl1TrAF17O89Ie7GM9jvmiXOt35h0ibAMfLO0tp817yxUeiY-wAt5z8F8wUWC9S5GcdG9PwFX-IRVuumzYMf0bAzKuXf5LGzo0rWyd5UVePcIdu1YnKd9tb4YFLnl2-VqqU/s1600/verona+camera+028.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Definitely not Juliet...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWP2BskDQ4RuP-6wFTUASm_fpvwn2HVRq0rs4BHyiz4NuMdaKg94voX5cnzeQwyou5YXurdmlz5i8-fPZm5nrqYCecKc3K6y0avobbVdUUQdNrMOCbyCYHE7Bbkvs2AdukW6SoK-TMRY/s1600/verona+camera+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWP2BskDQ4RuP-6wFTUASm_fpvwn2HVRq0rs4BHyiz4NuMdaKg94voX5cnzeQwyou5YXurdmlz5i8-fPZm5nrqYCecKc3K6y0avobbVdUUQdNrMOCbyCYHE7Bbkvs2AdukW6SoK-TMRY/s1600/verona+camera+031.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chewing gum wall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then
Casa de Giulietta – the house identified as being the inspiration behind
Shakespeare’s famous balcony scene. Now we all know the story of Romeo and
Juliet, but I was struck by how their tragic romance still affected people
today. The walls into the Casa were
scribbled with millions of love messages, inside the courtyard there were
hundreds of little padlocks attached to an iron trellis with names on, and I
was amused to see that there was one wall on which the budget conscious had
stuck their used bits of chewing gum, and on which they had inscribed the
initials of their loved ones. That’s romance
for you. The actual balcony was a bit of
a let down, there were only so many tourists you could watch shouting Romeo
Romeo Wherefore art Thou Romeo? in various formats and dialects, and so we
decided against getting the shot!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRJB_rfzvfSokhpEdGDxglzL-_lm49bkrSIYhBKgdW8p3N3GhZ1nYvrAtSlqjN-ADA04Q4O3JSDuMo1aiViTZfF5Wd1NNlE1x3a1fD1X8NYMXBE0Pw2SCOEoOuMBbHLmnDVGjRM7Ps5A/s1600/verona+camera+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRJB_rfzvfSokhpEdGDxglzL-_lm49bkrSIYhBKgdW8p3N3GhZ1nYvrAtSlqjN-ADA04Q4O3JSDuMo1aiViTZfF5Wd1NNlE1x3a1fD1X8NYMXBE0Pw2SCOEoOuMBbHLmnDVGjRM7Ps5A/s1600/verona+camera+029.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Padlocks</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Verona, definitely
a city that G and I would like to visit again, perhaps one day when we can appreciate
the opera, the elegance and relax with a glass of wine and just watch the
people walk by.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">It was time
to set off to our hotel, as we strode on the friendly Romans were melting in the heat and drinking from plastic bottles of water. Parking Citadella cheerfully sent us off with a
blast of Abba, and we quickly found the route to Villafrancha, about 20 minutes
outside the city. I, of course, had
booked the hotel, and so had an inkling of what it might be like, but I had not
told the boys for fear of disappointment.
Driving through vineyards and fruit trees laden with citrus, kiwis, and
tomato plants, our first view of Ca’ Maddalena was a huge elephant with its
trunk upraised, and the sound of splashing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">‘A pool!!!’
shrieked the boys in delight. A party
was in full swing with an enormous charcoal barbeque upon which there were
mountains of smoky rectangles of golden polenta, big steaks, ribs, chicken wings,
and sausages. A genial chef, ear pierced
with a symbol of Africa, ushered us through to reception where an efficient
lady took us up to our rooms. It would seem that there were 11 rooms in total,
and it was fully booked throughout the summer with tourists and parties for the locals.
She explained that her family had lived in Malindi (the coastal area of Kenya)
for 20 years, and once they had moved back, they decided to make the old family
home into a B&B. It had been a
success ever since. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ht9mohAgHCg9fhqtp34ICqE1EgkmaddyOA4jXi_K9PUUZsV0wjy9DEM3yK0XVfZfTK4126hLj3q8dJFpCbUonoPJ6A4Wq-V7lOgywUPDHlGoyvE872izuEtmY-6kQD1J0ALckDAEfA4/s1600/verona+camera+074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Ht9mohAgHCg9fhqtp34ICqE1EgkmaddyOA4jXi_K9PUUZsV0wjy9DEM3yK0XVfZfTK4126hLj3q8dJFpCbUonoPJ6A4Wq-V7lOgywUPDHlGoyvE872izuEtmY-6kQD1J0ALckDAEfA4/s1600/verona+camera+074.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant gate keepers</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGx8_6TgW-sh_NmIb28N7wKRHIk00RK9jl4fzjdrcxcJRzXnhhoLP0d5H1fQIXVud3gjTTlkxuux4e0ko0EEceE7aunZfBG2GzdX1cshxlndpMWNyphWwGw7EfI64aosBKVFJNiNVkiy0/s1600/verona+camera+071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGx8_6TgW-sh_NmIb28N7wKRHIk00RK9jl4fzjdrcxcJRzXnhhoLP0d5H1fQIXVud3gjTTlkxuux4e0ko0EEceE7aunZfBG2GzdX1cshxlndpMWNyphWwGw7EfI64aosBKVFJNiNVkiy0/s1600/verona+camera+071.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hotel reception area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Now I was
brought up in Kenya, and immediately recognized all the furniture, the décor,
the dolls, the masks, the carvings and the absolute attention to detail was
outstanding. I had had no idea that in
the middle of the Italian vineyards would be an African Safari Lodge, complete
with duka (outside shop) selling bikinis, kikois (sarongs), kaftans and straw
beach bags. Or that there would be
enormous painted wooden animals roaming the relaxation area. The kids made for
the pool, G made for the beach bar, and came back with two beers and a smiling
young barman called Daniele, who was an Italian living in Germany, and a family
member who was helping out for 6 weeks.
Aged 17, he was an instant hit with us and the boys, and made every
effort to join us in between running errands, sorting out the bar, serving the
food and dealing with a local birthday party that had booked into the pool area. Having the advantage of 6 languages under his
belt, it was clear that he was, for the family, indispensable during the busy
season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIag3Hf5iEJpCZOuhpVC25a0s2JKnYUrDeS1JHdHq_hEHQppvmPuQ11DNDl_hpcJkB1Z_2D5g3yMn5RYxoPl02_7pBQjPPTiqa45Bf3dV3heaBqD_TLnuwXdQu34cUntuHF9Ic6Hf74rY/s1600/verona+camera+070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIag3Hf5iEJpCZOuhpVC25a0s2JKnYUrDeS1JHdHq_hEHQppvmPuQ11DNDl_hpcJkB1Z_2D5g3yMn5RYxoPl02_7pBQjPPTiqa45Bf3dV3heaBqD_TLnuwXdQu34cUntuHF9Ic6Hf74rY/s1600/verona+camera+070.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our bed with mosquito nets</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNB7clJbjoUU2KUZ-3blg8qoormvFaJFsnu31QKvvx3Wd67pZuspXCA9VEVJAKU-sIwUOJSOSfEU4sdHsZsPVkVKJ06SYvYfl0FpQM48s2s2OHwkXwkaLttNYSIj9nn0_g3PloM7V1n0/s1600/verona+camera+081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNB7clJbjoUU2KUZ-3blg8qoormvFaJFsnu31QKvvx3Wd67pZuspXCA9VEVJAKU-sIwUOJSOSfEU4sdHsZsPVkVKJ06SYvYfl0FpQM48s2s2OHwkXwkaLttNYSIj9nn0_g3PloM7V1n0/s1600/verona+camera+081.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">relaxing by the pool with a beer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Although it
was a B&B, within no time at all a table was laid up for us for a BBQ dinner,
and one for a group of 9 comprising 3 generations of Italians from Australia,
with girls similar ages to our boys. The chef piled our plates high with meat, and Daniele
flitted between us, and joined our table for a glass of wine and a slice of
melon, and within no time at all in this melting pot of a watering hole, all of
the kids were back in the pool, and at around 10 pm Daniele joined them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
Australians were on the latter end of their journey, and were soon to be flying
home, and regaled us with their adventures.
It seemed that we were all travelling to Venice the next day, but they
had arrived from Innsbruck and had not had a chance to see Verona. Their plan
was to get up early and get into the city the next day. We told them of the
beautiful sights we had seen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then
the kids came back, dripping towels on the concrete floor. They begged to stay on the next morning, have
an extra play with the boys in the pool before they left. Their granddad threw
his arms up in the air hopelessly. I
felt a bit sorry for him – 4 young girls with beseeching eyes – no chance…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And so it
was that the next morning even Middle Son was up and alert, and faced with a sumptuous
breakfast of freshly cooked pumpkin seed bread, juicy watermelon, golden
apricots, homemade cakes made by Danieles grandmother and fortified with bittersweet
full strength Italian espresso, we let the all kids have a splash and a natter, as
we packed up our bags. Sometimes in travelling, plans change, and the Aussies gave in to the younger generation with a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We were all
sad to leave this little oasis, Little Man was teary and hugged Daniele
tight. In the meantime another party was
starting up, and we left to the smell of a barbeque, and music. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJpj8Fjgm2tLnrdDP5_uQREzxiY65mUGWASaaS1tD_m8ZYfUrXzIdWER4JAguH_8L29DCJk_Qchz_gHpUUYpUlIS5JHPXgxlVzNKZSIhXsonS5MUHA4yzT31MFNY2LaADtXloEguiad4/s1600/verona+iphone+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKJpj8Fjgm2tLnrdDP5_uQREzxiY65mUGWASaaS1tD_m8ZYfUrXzIdWER4JAguH_8L29DCJk_Qchz_gHpUUYpUlIS5JHPXgxlVzNKZSIhXsonS5MUHA4yzT31MFNY2LaADtXloEguiad4/s1600/verona+iphone+003.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Man's message in the guest book</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">The
elephant waved us off as we settled into the car on the way to Venice. It had
been enormous fun, and brought back so many childhood memories for me.</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Kwaheri
(Goodbye) Ca’ Maddalena and the African animals of Verona.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-16038560621334144242014-07-19T11:48:00.000-07:002014-07-19T11:49:17.091-07:00The Italian Job: Milan<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Driving
into the outskirts of Milan was a bit of a shock after the relative peace of
the mountains of France. Traffic veered
wildly from left to right and even Garmin, our sat nav, seemed to be taken by
surprise. Her very British accent seemed
at odds with the long road names and often she gabbled incoherently like a
woman in her cups. However soon we found the locality of our next hotel, which
was situated in a suburb of Milan called Novate Milanese – a very Italian
village scattered with cafes, gellatorias, old ladies in black seated on
foldaway chairs outside in the street, a newsagents and not one hotel in
sight. Garmin announced that we were
here. We looked incredulously around us.
There was nothing but traditional ancient townhouses, and certainly none with
car parks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">G wandered
aimlessly up and down the road, trying to find our hotel Antica Corte Milanese
by tracking the numbers. I went into the
newsagents, and he directed me to where G was standing in front of an enormous
arch with double wooden doors. I buzzed
tentatively on the bell that was scrappily labelled with the name of our
abode. The doors swung open to reveal a
wonderfully cobbled courtyard, surrounded with balconied apartments covered in
white flowering heavily scented passion vines, large pink unidentifiable blooms
and in the top corner of the balcony white linen curtains flapped gently in the
breeze round a sun terrace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">A young man
who could only have been a few years older than Eldest Son appeared and
announced himself as Lorenzo. He was
extremely helpful, and was eager to practice his English on us, which was a
good thing as none of us speak Italian, and there was a complicated system of
keys and machines to be explained. The
boys soon disappeared into Dalia, our delightful three storey apartment complete
with secret attic bathroom which Little Man claimed for his own. Lorenzo
patiently explained all the intricacies of living in a converted 17<sup>th</sup>
century building – the light switches were all in odd places, the clay brick
floor creaked, the main bathroom had a tiled floor and a bidet, and the stairs
were precariously steep. Breakfast, which was included in the price, was
through a vending machine, on a prepaid key.
We looked at the empty machine, which apparently served both hot
beverages and packets of pastries and made a mental note that we would probably
skip breakfast in favour of the many pastry shops we had seen en route. He then
led G and I through a series of maps, and drew out laboriously our train route
into Milan, and back, and gave us pointers to restaurants. We instinctively
knew that we would enjoy our stay in Milan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDWD8gGxkBq1h6k5L-D51foY0X1fFty_XqMZyY9Km_1W5HIaKYKPMrCMuoWWNYuN_UgZ8rukHJdg4rngXwQ8-0sI8UQP_1kZ1JiEpRRwPbHJQVz7aP8ReB65jt3DKxm-LIvjtZMr1Rco/s1600/iphone+dijon+milan+056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUDWD8gGxkBq1h6k5L-D51foY0X1fFty_XqMZyY9Km_1W5HIaKYKPMrCMuoWWNYuN_UgZ8rukHJdg4rngXwQ8-0sI8UQP_1kZ1JiEpRRwPbHJQVz7aP8ReB65jt3DKxm-LIvjtZMr1Rco/s1600/iphone+dijon+milan+056.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the gorgeous Corte Antica</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">That night
the street was thrown open to a Festa, or street party. We ate at a pizza restaurant called Volpe to
the strains of a jazz band that had set up on one end of the street by a bouncy
castle and a bustling café. Our antipasti arrived, mountains of mussels,
prawns, clams and razor clams, fresh thin slices of smoky breseola, peppery
rocket and creamy buffalo mozzarella. All this before our pizzas, and sloshed
down with a lovely bottle of Italian red. We ambled back through the crowds -
couples wheeled buggies, young men swaggered past giggling teenage girls in
teeny shorts and iPods, and old men laughed over glasses of beer, gesticulating
wildly with cigarettes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Exhausted,
we all fell into bed, the faint sounds of the street music in our ears. The next day, G went down the stairs to see
what he could hunt down for breakfast, only to find Lorenzo disconsolately
mopping up in the breakfast room. It
seemed that the vending machines had given up the ghost and flooded the floors
overnight…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">G came back
with 3 Elvises and 2 Sophia Lorens.
These were hot paninis made by a local who not only dressed like Elvis,
but named his fodder accordingly. They
were delicious and differed only in that the Elvises had salami and the Sophias
were slightly less fatty with parma ham. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Fortified
thus, we set off for the railway station clutching Lorenzo’s map. It was a five minute walk and we found it
with no trouble at all. I must stop here
for a moment and talk about language.
None of us can speak French or Italian, and one thing that I have found
so far with booking slightly out of town is that not a lot of people speak
English. So G, armed with a phrase book,
attempted to talk to the woman behind the counter. Now although I cannot speak Italian, my deceased
grandmother, an uneducated woman, could speak 7 languages and write not a
jot. Something has rubbed off on me,
because I can understand a lot more than I can speak. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0mLXYnAUGo8yuCBnXBve4d4QcUoBvfVhHh-1hOLJ-BjscKjMN3L80TF2XtXzsQopPLX4T4n7g-tN2krqVLTsHmsQvbCt44lc0833lvcGpeMM4C3W7c-fuk7JqLUw0IP-kdr4zfI__m0/s1600/milan+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy0mLXYnAUGo8yuCBnXBve4d4QcUoBvfVhHh-1hOLJ-BjscKjMN3L80TF2XtXzsQopPLX4T4n7g-tN2krqVLTsHmsQvbCt44lc0833lvcGpeMM4C3W7c-fuk7JqLUw0IP-kdr4zfI__m0/s1600/milan+004.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On their first double decker train</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Sensing
that I understood her, the woman turned to me in despair, and began rattling
off staccato style. I am proud to say
that I managed to get a free pass for all public transport in Milan for all of
the kids, and an adult return to the station.
She then ran on to the platform where we were waiting and proceeded to
chat on about all the things she had forgotten to tell me – where we should get
off, what we should do etc. Maybe it was
only because I was the ‘Madre’, but I noticed G had put away his phrase book
and slunk off to look at the train timetable as the boys sniggered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghVPZ-JekdcRZHmrITrtbfrxY7Pv-kQJBBBb5TBzhq-YRsheRq2pElpTxDbbpo4Hqczu_RI99xYEQxkAymopMMOH3EA_FRdkDPuY1fm08Zk9ROBw1cN7IB5PRjA8XH6lToE7QAb3z2mw/s1600/milan+camera+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhghVPZ-JekdcRZHmrITrtbfrxY7Pv-kQJBBBb5TBzhq-YRsheRq2pElpTxDbbpo4Hqczu_RI99xYEQxkAymopMMOH3EA_FRdkDPuY1fm08Zk9ROBw1cN7IB5PRjA8XH6lToE7QAb3z2mw/s1600/milan+camera+008.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feeding the pigeons outside the Duomo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRFPzn7iPp80ruSH1wvAQQZY5oCli6D2FUIzJ6An1sjeIfBEt8vJRNm_PDI6CgkauSZpRenTGzh0pYuvJVOxG3RPK3xQmjN0_3LcY8hBlt84HUaGK5F_uK8huDpws3t39LVHewjbwWN0/s1600/milan+camera+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimRFPzn7iPp80ruSH1wvAQQZY5oCli6D2FUIzJ6An1sjeIfBEt8vJRNm_PDI6CgkauSZpRenTGzh0pYuvJVOxG3RPK3xQmjN0_3LcY8hBlt84HUaGK5F_uK8huDpws3t39LVHewjbwWN0/s1600/milan+camera+014.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Duomo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvv8ngNc-DetybX_5gLHNmePpYvHwiDJc2yYV-kkCkf2L1e42QfblmmmiJNRPpV1Cwr9AAROUQS1NcV8c-JALSGJ5KEW9H2e4lTN-XfTWckJwuVjsKqGO26-TLdqBIl2yuJSezoonmEA/s1600/milan+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvv8ngNc-DetybX_5gLHNmePpYvHwiDJc2yYV-kkCkf2L1e42QfblmmmiJNRPpV1Cwr9AAROUQS1NcV8c-JALSGJ5KEW9H2e4lTN-XfTWckJwuVjsKqGO26-TLdqBIl2yuJSezoonmEA/s1600/milan+006.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a fortifying gelato</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Milan, home
of fashion and the beautiful people. The
boys looked in awe at the expensive shops and Middle Son declared his ambition
to one day own a Gucci suit. The superb
Duomo, towering above a Piazza in which the kids fed the birds courtesy of some
Senegalese hustlers (hmm…5 euros later we learned our lesson, and so did the
kids – shouting NO! whenever any approached us). The lovely women with endless
legs and swinging little expensive bags, the men, no matter what age,
exquisitely dressed in a panacea of colours.
But the unexpected hit of the day was the Leonardo 3 exhibition. Covering all aspects of Leonardo da Vinci’s
life including his inventions and his art, meant that all of us had something
to look at. The boys were fascinated by
the model flying machines, time and motion, and invented their own land and air
machines with print outs. Always an amateur conspiracy theorist, I spent ages reading all the 3D computerized info
on the Last Supper and was shaken out of my reverie by the boys. Little Man
declared that he wanted to be an actor and an inventor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGB36B21dLzgLL3fs8zdIl2cZ3BPYnj-9Q9HRsvFQHI5KmdlABRPHkw6ebYlRNnlRRQqDDMp6DhN_Sq9Rpi2gL49oizEWIOn4VWxMUxuSyAJRmsuaL4G0kJ_b9oV6tj1XapzqCFmcL1w/s1600/milan+camera+035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAGB36B21dLzgLL3fs8zdIl2cZ3BPYnj-9Q9HRsvFQHI5KmdlABRPHkw6ebYlRNnlRRQqDDMp6DhN_Sq9Rpi2gL49oizEWIOn4VWxMUxuSyAJRmsuaL4G0kJ_b9oV6tj1XapzqCFmcL1w/s1600/milan+camera+035.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the biggest billboard in the world - and aspiring models...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">We got back
in the evening exhausted. G went to
sleep. I was packing up and checking through the stuff for Verona, our stop the
next day. The boys were debating what the bidet was. Eldest Son thought it was a bath for
toddlers, Little Man thought it was for washing your feet. Middle Son, who is a bit more savvy, told
them that it was for washing your butt.
The other two looked up in incredulity as he described what to do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">And then
they tried it out to much hilarity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif";">Milan, here bidet, gone tomorrow</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
…<o:p></o:p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00729154893079308218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6498327058028550244.post-80738560841778760162014-07-18T12:54:00.000-07:002014-07-18T22:04:36.474-07:00The Italian Job: Dijon<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There’s no doubt about it, travelling this way is tiring. And we suffered for it the next day, with the
boys surfacing at around 10.00am – unheard of at home. And so consequently we missed breakfast,
which was not included in the room fee, and so we entered Dijon absolutely
famished and heading for the first car park that we could find. There was a scraping noise as the car went
down a steep ramp to the underground parking that was Parking Darcy. G looked a bit concerned, whilst the rest of
us concentrated on finding a space in the packed car park. As we got out of the car, the boys all knelt,
peering into the darkness under the vehicle.
There was a piece of the undercarriage hanging low, through which flowed
a liquid on to the concrete floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pandemonium and panic ensued. G
panicked that it was terminal, the boys panicked that the car was falling
apart. I wandered how on earth we were going to eat. I don’t profess to know much about cars, but
having been brought up in Africa, where pretty much any vehicle is held
together on a wing and a prayer, I was not unduly concerned. I suggested that G put his finger in the
puddle and look and sniff. It wasn’t
oil, diesel or brake fluid. It was
water. It made sense that because it was
so hot, the air conditioning had been working overtime. And on that diagnosis, the pouring liquid
stopped abruptly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We had a Lonely Planet and some advice from the internet. Of course
Dijon is famous for its mustard, and we were sad to see that the mustard
factory tour had closed down – we had no idea why. We decided that the Owl Tour
seemed to fit our style of ambling around, with the benefit of being free (with
the exception of 2.50</span><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">ϵ</span><span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> for the guide book from the Tourist Information
Centre). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLKqIcfgED2XgGP7zqAiLve1di1ObD1vIjS26uIgENkIvQMFwGB54Sl97HybnZXqJmsaZ-zK0Bakj8Kmg_ijA8UQ37STCPlqJ42CmqKKWcH9F3aKg8zajY5Z-wden0qBff7Aqvbamx8o/s1600/Dijon+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLKqIcfgED2XgGP7zqAiLve1di1ObD1vIjS26uIgENkIvQMFwGB54Sl97HybnZXqJmsaZ-zK0Bakj8Kmg_ijA8UQ37STCPlqJ42CmqKKWcH9F3aKg8zajY5Z-wden0qBff7Aqvbamx8o/s1600/Dijon+001.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Owl is a lucky symbol in Dijon, and built into the pavements are
tiny brass owls which one follows, and which point out the places of interest.
The tour itself takes about an hour to do, unless you are us, and meander up
and down, in and out of mustard shops and little interesting side streets. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvjS2Ul6wpwXXCW-Zds4d2QufYb63io1QaBQbuQ8sCl-aPylewa0nVIqkSII75xkDY4q_z5Da98N1h_V0wkjmkgXgnuT-pdDDdgE7hc8PbZ5ToJI4Z6Mx6g7Cnx0PSKq722TZ7NRiF_Dk/s1600/Dijon+032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvjS2Ul6wpwXXCW-Zds4d2QufYb63io1QaBQbuQ8sCl-aPylewa0nVIqkSII75xkDY4q_z5Da98N1h_V0wkjmkgXgnuT-pdDDdgE7hc8PbZ5ToJI4Z6Mx6g7Cnx0PSKq722TZ7NRiF_Dk/s1600/Dijon+032.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The owl symbols in the tarmac that the boys ran ahead to spot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The boys were on the hunt for food, and soon we came across the Maison
Millière, a house steeped in history and built in 1483 – and now a renowned
restaurant. We went in, were seated by a young man who spoke fluent English and
who nevertheless understood our attempts at French. We decided on the Menu du jour, and Little
Man’s children’s menu was served at the same time as our entrees, and he had
his dessert when we had our mains. The
restaurant itself was set outside in a quaint old courtyard, replete with
elegant French women sipping glasses of crisp white wine and with wall
paintings of the French countryside which would have done a Hollywood set
painter proud.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yfZba4jXvMTlm2z08Bkb8pcmScdPUncnw2NrUVYZDNJ1vYrDRXYiYC1d7oSZJTKGhtOl9ZcEfTz81HmnAke9OddEbesmA12BCgWIAHUXKEUa05Np8GpCY4I4mNk9Ng4PyDBKd2g-PN0/s1600/Dijon+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yfZba4jXvMTlm2z08Bkb8pcmScdPUncnw2NrUVYZDNJ1vYrDRXYiYC1d7oSZJTKGhtOl9ZcEfTz81HmnAke9OddEbesmA12BCgWIAHUXKEUa05Np8GpCY4I4mNk9Ng4PyDBKd2g-PN0/s1600/Dijon+016.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maison Milliere with its painted walls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FlnGb7vCA6epWUqZzCbFCBnYVKSAxRHoif0uE39V5NCD1rWqh_p492XyPvIfCZ82xvquR0b2qKfjdHdJPeQphgDGyT0V_Lb-g0IvWoPzs4xlNw03NuuNo2dM96Ns2Y_H_MIhXdU5Jcs/s1600/Dijon+103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FlnGb7vCA6epWUqZzCbFCBnYVKSAxRHoif0uE39V5NCD1rWqh_p492XyPvIfCZ82xvquR0b2qKfjdHdJPeQphgDGyT0V_Lb-g0IvWoPzs4xlNw03NuuNo2dM96Ns2Y_H_MIhXdU5Jcs/s1600/Dijon+103.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mustard mustard everywhere</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So well fed and watered, we ambled through some of the finest
architecture that we have seen, and taking in some fine sights such as the
Hotel de Vogue, Jardin Darcy, the Palais de Justice and the cathedral at Saint-
Bénigne. It was very hot, and several
stops were required to stock up on l’eau and les glaces. The boys were
delighted to reach the Palais des Ducs et des Etats de Bourgogne. This was not because of the enormous tower of
Philippe Le Bon which stood at 46m above the town, or the Palais des Etats with
its host of red white and blue flags and the proud words Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité
above the enormous door. No, it was the
Place de la Libération with its three linear ground level fountain displays,
amongst which the local kids ran squealing and shrieking in the sunshine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksG1Rgiv_b5k3V91N2r8C232anMIIC_ZkRoaIikyA3JxxTn6DMIHS_Cnd6ovK1qC_vpHVICrB36X5A5ULq7gF7AYMjZcszpmxFQF4qWhuoIhMPaL_ZJqYszifI9NwxByvgF4H2BpRGjE/s1600/Dijon+052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksG1Rgiv_b5k3V91N2r8C232anMIIC_ZkRoaIikyA3JxxTn6DMIHS_Cnd6ovK1qC_vpHVICrB36X5A5ULq7gF7AYMjZcszpmxFQF4qWhuoIhMPaL_ZJqYszifI9NwxByvgF4H2BpRGjE/s1600/Dijon+052.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun in the sun</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Within no time, G and I watched as our kids joined in, forgetting their
shyness as they joined in the splashing and shouting and getting totally
drenched much to the amusement of the people in the nearby cafes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yEnJ_T5wy0EU928iFeb2eQbyU2D2NzMpbJPR3L7vCi-9DM3QK87mYnPYijM7W1iKpHcRh1NhCPG796KiuTWBNJiFDPyWhrO2MhTTltt4op-prx-KsK0me07BvslNFmFYzA3XJL2zIDE/s1600/Dijon+084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yEnJ_T5wy0EU928iFeb2eQbyU2D2NzMpbJPR3L7vCi-9DM3QK87mYnPYijM7W1iKpHcRh1NhCPG796KiuTWBNJiFDPyWhrO2MhTTltt4op-prx-KsK0me07BvslNFmFYzA3XJL2zIDE/s1600/Dijon+084.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nodding Queen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Those who know me, or who are regular readers of the blog, will know
that for a year or so I have been battling with an Achilles Tendon problem, and
indeed, by the end of the day, my foot was tender and swollen and in need of
icing. Stopping off en route at a leClerc
near the Hotel Armony, G used his initiative, and came back with a bag of
frozen peas. I would give any money to
have seen the puzzled face of the chamber maid after we had checked out the
next day…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Dinner that evening was in a family friendly French chain of restaurants
known as Hippopotamus. The boys were
slightly disappointed that hippo was not on the menu, but they were delighted
with their steaks, and I with my Hippopotamus Colada cocktail. Walking back
across a dual carriageway proved an exciting end to the evening, and I was glad
that I had only stuck to the one!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The next morning we were all up early enough to make check out. We sat in the car and Garmin sprung into
life. She sounded perky as we typed in
the address in Milan. The boys settled
down, and I got out the Italian phrase book.
As we whizzed along the toll roads with their magnificent mountain views
and the glaciers of Mont Blanc, all we could hear were the kids rolling their
‘r’s and stressing their ‘e’s with Latin drama ‘Per favorrrrrre’ and ‘Grazieeee
Milleeeee’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">9 or 10 tunnels, 15 bottles of water, 2 boxes of tracker bars, 1 bar of
melted chocolate, 5 tangerines and 4 hours later we reached the border.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">La famiglia Morrisoni had arrived in Italy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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