Cuppa tea?

Sipping lemon and ginger tea, admiring my sweet pea tea cup and attempting to ease the irritations of a small boy with party induced fatigue. A long session on a huge bouncy inflatable, followed by a rather obscene amount of jam tarts and cup cakes, has left him feeling understandably the slightly worse for wear.

Our time at Rydal

An unashamedly long picture post, in no particular order.

Playing cricket in the beautiful Victorian gardens at Fell Foot. We played dodge ball too and generally had a hoot. We're just getting into playing ball games all together. I guess it's a sign of the children growing up and more things becoming possible.


One of many fluffy ducklings we spotted.

Hermione swimming in Lake Windermere. She was ever so proud with herself. She'd not swam in a lake before. Craig was looking a bit twitchy on the shore, with his boots loose ready to dash if needs be.

Getting into the swing of things.

Paddling with the ducks at Fell Foot. It's a great spot to admire the full length of Lake Windermere.

Explanation of a piece of art hanging in the grounds at Rydal.

Close up of the art.

Distance shot.

Part of the formal gardens at Rydal, giving way to the undulating backdrop of the countryside. It's a place of wonderful contrasts and surprises.

Relaxing in an arbour.

Going wild in the wonderful play area at Brockhole.

Courgettes nestling on sheep fleece in the Brockhole veg plot. An interesting way of keeping slugs at bay!

The lake shore at Brockhole. Good for paddling but not for swimming I think. It looked as if it would dip away sharply.

One of many great dens at Rydal.

Despite being catapulted off many time Miles was determined to master the reclining sun lounger.

Photograph with Mr McGregor (as in The Tale of Peter Rabbit). We had a lovely visit to Hill Top where there were staff on hand with many of Beatrix's tales to show how many of the illustrations featured objects in her home. We saw Peter Rabbit too! He didn't have his blue coat on as it is summer, but we did see him (or perhaps one of many other grey rabbits in the Lake District) hopping on by. Miles was ecstatic.

Clambering around in the Rydal play area.

Art and sculpture at Rydal.

View from the window.

The little shelter where you can rest, reflect and enjoy the above view. Bliss.

Foxgloves at Rydal.

Wading through streams at Rydal.

Our pod which comfortably accommodated four of us. Much more spacious than other pods we have stayed in and even had cute solar fairy lights on the ceiling. The twinkly lights seemed to have a ind of their own and came on randomly throughout the night. Just like sleeping under the stars.

Climbing tree a stones throw from our pod.

Miles waits with large stick just in case a troll should appear from under the bridge.

Koala Miles.

Still got what it takes..

Wow, after all these years of marriage Craig still has what it takes to put a big smile on my face. Actually, scratch that, it would probably be more accurate to say that after years of marriage he is finally learning what puts a big smile on my face *grin*.

I was feeling very down at the start of the week about my eye and stuff. Well, Craig came home early from work on Monday and took the children to their sports club himself; having told me to get my glad rags on. Once the children were fast asleep we went into town to watch a band and have dinner!

I had a fabulous time - but it didn't end there! Come late in the evening we were talking about taking a break and come Tuesday morning we were all en route to one of my favourite hide outs. We've just been home a couple of hours. I'm just waiting for the washing to finish before crashing into bed with a very wide smile on my face...

Beyond The Silence

It's rare that I find time to pick up a novel. I generally find myself frantically flicking through reference books, trying to stay ahead of the kids in their unquenchable thirst for knowledge. However, not long ago, a friend mentioned over coffee that her father had recently published a novel. I felt that I *ought* to read it but once I'd begun I was so pleased that I had.

The novel is presented in two carefully interwoven strands. The first is that of the later part of Vincent Van Gogh's life in the late eighteen hundreds, battling mental illness, creativity and constant striving - although for what I'm not quite sure. The second strand is the story of a modern day GP, suffering from depression and deeply moved by visiting a gallery in Paris to see some of Van Gogh's work, particularly a portrait of the doctor who assisted Van Gogh towards the end of his life.

The author, my friend's father, was a GP for many years before retiring early on account of his own battle with depression. The book is not autobiographical but with every page it is apparent that it is written by someone who feels the subject very deeply.

An outstanding example of synchronicity. An illuminating and challenging read which certainly made me, (no stranger to depression), delve deep within.

Go on - get yourself to Amazon and treat yourself *grin*.

Wind, Wickets and Wild Things

So much for spending my enforced chill in the gazebo - winds saw it hurtling towards next door's garden at great speed late this afternoon. It's now in the garage for safety. I have a new plan for whiling away the time. I have acquired four solid wooden dining chairs from Freecycle just crying out to be lovingly restored. Pictures to follow.

I had the honour of watching both my babes playing cricket here today. They both did exceptionally well and came home with a brand new cricket bat each, courtesy of the club.

This evening we have watched Where The Wild Things Are. Hermione and Craig really enjoyed it. I'm not really into watching films. I struggle to be still and quiet for long periods. I must admit though, those Wild Things were kinda cute.

Lines in the sand

I'm listening to moody tunes, trying to embed one or two of them here, failing miserably (having been outwitted by YouTube once again) and pondering drawing lines in the sand....

GP referred me on to our local specialist eye hospital on Friday. Glad he did too as it turns out I don't have some freaky degenerative eye condition as he had told me - I've just got water trapped under the skin of my eyeball (urrrghhhh!) which will settle given time. I just need to sit tight, wait for it to get better and then I will be able to see properly and drive again.

Hmmm, so why does sitting tight now feel so darned uncomfortable? I generally spend life dreaming of sitting down so why is it so difficult to stay home for a couple of weeks or so and chill? I don't know if I'm having a mini crisis, a revelation or just a plain and simple over reaction. The arts programme I have been negotiating with a local arts organisation for over a year now is finally getting going, I've a Cathedral trip for the younger home ed children coming up soon, a home ed summer fayre to plan, pasta and pinot grigio to snaffle with a couple of great mates one night next week, a full day cricketing event with the children and so it goes on...

I think I need to pick up a stick and draw that line. I've a stick not a magic wand. I can't make my freak show eye disappear over night. Time to accept that some stuff may well just have to happen with or without me and that it's okay for that to happen. I don't *have* to spend all of the time running around like a headless chicken. I'm not indispensable. Life will go on (and may actually be all the sweeter) for a fortnight spent lounging in the gazebo with a magazine - large print of course *grin*.

Grave diggers and grave robbers

'Come along children, let's see what we can see in the pond today!' I wasn't expecting to find a dead mouse half submerged in there. It's little face was still dry and fury. It's body was waterlogged.

After much ooohing and aaaahing it was decided it would be given a real good send off. It was placed in a cardboard coffin, a large hole dug in the border and Hermione read a touching eulogy about the life of a mouse. Miles sang and a candle was lit. Afterwards there was tea and sandwiches.

The hens are always very interested in any area where the soil has been disturbed as they love worms. Consequently the pair of them were on grave robber alert for the rest of the afternoon just in case a rascally hen tried to dig up poor mousey.

It goes without saying I'm not pleased about the little mouse's sad demise, but it did enable me to plant out my beetroot in peace.

Oh no - my blog's doing that freaky format thing again!