Have survived another half term. Only one fell in the pond and no trips to A&E: it is a record. Ben declared his life to be “absolutely and extremely perfect – except for stinging nettles.” Which made me think that we must be doing something right – and whilst mothers are obviously to blame for all failings of life even we can’t be held responsible for nettles.
Our trips to the various provincial museums have been a hit – there is such charm in randomness. Bristol City Museum let us tour their archives so the Hordens spent several happy hours digging and delving in the basement – unearthing stuffed hyena, man-eating tiger skulls, ocelots and all manner of excitements. I just hope Harriet didn’t drink too much formalin – how much is too much?
We have now experienced Centre Parcs. Another circle of hell that Dante forgot to mention. It is rather like that 60’s show The Prisoner – trapped in a bubble – unable to escape and being forced to be weirdly friendly or be seen as mad. Oppressed Husband LOVED it!! He ran back to his club as fast as his little legs would carry him.
Harriet has had her first trial day at nursery. I had to go too and was dressed appropriately in a very Joyce Grenfell outfit. I quickly reverted to type so was only slightly taken aback to find myself saying “Min Ji darling – don’t do that!”. Min Ji was ‘Korean you know’, as I was told in chorus by all the other children every time she was spectacularly badly behaved. Kept having to remind myself that we are not in Kansas anymore Toto.
I am not sure what ” Fuc, fuc, fucky fuc” means in Korean but the sweet nursery staff, who clearly had no idea either, assured me that it must be completely innocent. Having met Min Ji I am not so sure.
Bath’s lack of multiculturalism is amazingly obvious. All the children at school, bar the hapless MinJi, are Aryan in the extreme. Distinguishing which blonde is yours is remarkably difficult, so much so that I have, on more than one occasion, shepherded the wrong unwilling child out of the playground. This has been met with understanding – luckily.
Have stupidly signed up for ‘survival bushcraft’ weekend a la Ray Meyers. This is a special school trip that includes, per force, the parents. Oppressed Husband is wisely staying home with the small two but I did not feel I could deny Sam an opportunity to capture, skin and eat a rabbit. I shall update you on our progress soon when I know what parnassing a salmon entails. I have, though, only recently read the small print and now realise that the main source of discomfort – apart from having to sleep with my children in a shelter of our own construction – there is NO mention of Wine O’Clock. I think Night Nurse + flask of whisky may have to be smuggled in.
Most recent excursion into the new life in the country has taken the form of riding lessons for me and going for Hacks instead of coffee mornings with the other mummies. I am now walking like John Wayne as it turns out I do have inner thigh muscles and they hurt!