Our local camping trip was a fabulous success. It was the same weekend as Glastonbury and so not to be left out we named our little festival Onesiebury, as all our little ones were sporting Onesie’s by the end of the evening. Thank goodness for the Onesie, the perfect camping outfit (REMINDER: CHILDREN ONLY!!). Our festival had no mud, no mess, none of those hideous toilets, but also no Rolling Stones either. Some you win.
Having booked the weather, I had delivered on my contribution and so reluctantly (coughs) let the three dads that could make the event, put up our tent. I supervised of course… truth is I am now no better in the demanding art of tent erecting than I was before and I also didn’t manage fairy lights or bunting (as per my previous column and dreams of camping perfection) but I did pack the thing away almost single-handily (shoved in car boot!), so that’s good isn’t it?
The best bit, the very best bit, was the campsite. Although we were forced to be a bit uncharacteristically-Stepford-Wives in uniform straight lines (they have Caravan Club accreditation, don’t you know?), we were opposite a huge grass field; this is the best bit. Imagine the Going On A Bear Hunt long swishy grass in real life. Well, this is the field. Our collective of fifteen children, aged from four to fourteen ALL enjoyed running, cartwheeling, skipping and hiding in this field. Of course this meant that the collective of, out-numbered, nine parents could sit, glass in hand (or tong for poor Ben who did the man/fire/meat thing) and watch with some comfort whilst our offspring played in the sun happily, together all, as the sun went down. Really, honestly, lovely.
We are already planning our next trip.
In more successful events, Team Mother got a brace of silver medals (stickers) at the school sports day. Yep, I put my race face on and powered to first loser. In my defence of course, I had bare feet and what sort of a distance is 60 metres? Really!! I need a 100 thank you very much. Competitive? Moi? Non. The girls? Oh yes, they did great. In all honesty it was a fabulous event. Competitive enough for those who need sport in their lives (Team Mother) and inclusive enough and good fun for those who might not feel quite the same!
Petal and Pickle both got lovely reports. Both girls exceeded their targets. Petal had moved schools, again, at the start of this year, and was out of school for some time and in hospital with osteomyelitis this time last year; you may have read this in a previous column. So I was both proud and relieved to get confirmation that she has settled well and not fallen behind with all she has had to cope with. Well done girls.
Okay, my last successful crow in this column.
We completed the annual double birthday party weekender. Yes, two days, two parties. Both Petal and Pickle are August babies. So at this point in the calendar every year I try to cram both my girls’ parties in before the end of the school term having previously tried parties over the summer holidays where hardly anybody is around to join in the fun. I also attempt to make sure their Dad can make it from Paris and ‘help’… It is always a stretch; financially, physically and emotionally but once it is done, it is done for the whole year.
So all that is left on my list to sort out is teachers presents, and three weeks of clean and ironed clothing (that won’t come back like that!) for the girls’ holiday with their father.