And now, you are seven.

Jazz hands

My darling Missy Woo,

Today, you become seven. It doesn't seem possible but then, people ask me if you and Monkey are twins and are surprised when I say you are still six if they ask your age. There are girls at school two years above you who aren't as tall as you. People naturally think you are older because you are tall but also you have a grown up way about you most of the time. They obviously don't see you when you are being giddy and giggly. 

You love to dance and so it seems apt that today is also your first ever dance exam. And you can't wait. You are almost as excited about your exam as your birthday. You love the idea and you're so proud to be doing your exam. You are not scared at all, and you've practised your moves in the conservatory to the music a few times. I'm not sure if it's the fact you get a couple of hours off school or just that you are going to be dancing. 

Today is going to pass by in a blur. Presents and breakfast, dance exam, school, where you'll have golden time and celebration assembly as it's a Friday. Then, we'll be going to Blackpool to see Granny and Granddad and go out for tea with them. 

It seems like the complete opposite of the day you were born. Having arrived in this world at 4.52am, all hell broke loose after you were born and you spent much of your first couple of hours in a hospital cot whilst the staff dealt with me, put me on drips and stopped me bleeding. I lost half the blood in my body that morning but luckily, the staff were ready and did a fantastic job, but I had to stay lying down all day. I did get to hold you but it was hard to hold you constantly with a drip in my hand. That day felt like it was frozen in time but eventually, they moved me down to a ward and in the afternoon, Monkey came to see you and I and jumped on my stomach. By the time they allowed me to stand upright again, you were already 14 hours old. Of course, you didn't know this - you were either sleeping, or lying wide awake looking around. And boy, you could sleep as a newborn! Even now, you are the one I have to wake up in the mornings. 

Seven years on, you are still my baby. You are funny and you can talk the hind legs off a donkey. If I ask you what you did at school today, I get a blow by blow account and it takes you five minutes to tell me about the first lesson! You are kind and you are a great friend. You rarely fall out with your friends and if someone says something horrid to you, you let it go over your head. You often sort out arguments between other girls in your circle of friends. 

You love to draw and if I'd kept every one that you'd done, we'd have had to move house. You are always drawing, colouring, making and creating. But you're also really good at maths and it's your favourite subject. Actually, you love school all round. You first walked in your school just before you were two and when we went back a couple of months later, you sat down in the reception classroom and started to try and write with the children. You wanted to go to school when Monkey started the year before you did and when it was finally your turn, you walked in without a tear or a moment of worry and you have blossomed there. Every now and then, you have a crisis of confidence in some aspect of learnin - it's been reading, writing, and even some of your dance moves so far. I have to remember to keep telling you that no-one is brilliant at anything first time around and you have to keep trying to get better. Then you do it and you completely forget that you ever doubted your abilities.

At seven, we have a glimpse of the woman you will become. The world is opening up to you, a world of possibilities. You don't know what you want to be when you grow up, mainly because you want to do so many things. You'd like to be an author, an illustrator, a dancer or a mathematician (although you are not sure you can do maths as a job). If you could work out a way to do them all together, I have no doubt you would - unless you change your mind about any of those things. 

And so, on your birthday, I want to wish you happy birthday and tell you how much I love you - although you knew that anyway, didn't you?

I have one final message for you, Missy Woo, on this day of days. Don't stop being you. 

Love,

Mummy xx

Making school mornings easier

In the post the other day, I got a nice package from Warburtons, enough to raise a smile on a grey February day.

A nice set of breakfast products. The purpose was to raise the profile of a new handbook that they are putting together with tips for making the morning rush easier. This comes alongside new findings tha show that mothers have to juggle twice as many tasks in the morning as executives in their first hour of work and that 27 % of mothers find mornings more stressful than parents' evening or a visit from the in-laws. In my case, I'd say so but that's because neither of those things particularly bother me. Mornings in our house aren't too bad; they've definitely got better as the children have got older. And yes, I get help - husband takes the children to school about half of the time. 

They've asked me if I could share my tips for making the mornings before school easier. Here are mine. 

1. Work out a comfortable leaving time and try to stick to it. This should be at least five minutes earlier than your "Oh my God we really have to leave" time, if not ten. Knowing that time in your head will help focus your mind, and that of older children. Set an alarm to go off just ahead, so that everyone knows it's time to get ready. 

2. Get as much done the night before as possible. Really, I cannot stress this enough as it helps to keep the to do list down in the morning. Here's what we do:

• On Sunday night, I make sure that the children have uniform out and every night, they put what they are wearing, including underwear, on a chair in their room. (And I check it!) 
• After Sunday bedtime, I get out toast money for both. Actually, I do this every day (well, most) for Monkey as he buys his - I just have to send it in weekly for Missy Woo. 
• Any money that needs to go to school is by the door, partly because I don't take them every day. The children have school lunches so I make sure I send in money in bigger chunks so I don't have to do it every week. 
• If you have packed lunches, get as much ready beforehand - get all the things that don't need to be kept in the refrigerator in their lunchboxes, make their sandwiches and place in a freezer bag and put in the fridge next to anything else that has to be kept cold so you can just grab and pop into the lunchboxes in the morning. 
• Keep a list of things they need for school on different days so you can check what they need.
• Place bags and other equipment needed for school by the door. If it's cold, check that hats, gloves and scarfs are with their coats. If it's not, caps and suncream. 
• If you are going straight to work, choose your outfit the night before too. (I pack my gym bag ready for gym days!)
• Check the children's bags for notes from school before they go to bed in case they are asking for extra things to be sent in. 
• And of course, make sure homework is done in the evening.

3. Limit screen time in the morning. The TV or game console goes off the second it slows them down. We have banned it but that tends to improve things. Definitely do not let them watch and eat - try and get them to eat at a table away from a television. In reality, mine only watch telly once they are dressed and have come out of their rooms and before they have breakfast. I can live with that.

4. Keep things to hand. The children have a set of toothbrushes and toothpaste in the downstairs toilet so they don't disappear upstairs for minutes on end, plus we can keep an eye on how long they are brushing for.

5. If you are struggling to get the children to co-operate, set up a reward chart for the tasks they need to do in the morning. The more co-operative they are, the faster they earn treats.

6. Don't fight food battles in the morning. Research some years ago shows that the most important thing for performance in school is that children eat breakfast; any breakfast. If your child wants something that you perceive as unhealthy and won't eat anything else, let them have it (provided it's easy to prepare!). Hell, we've had cake for breakfast on the odd occasion before now! So shoot me.

What are your tips for easier mornings?

The organiser

Yesterday was the occasion of the children's Christmas show. Well, it was the first one of three. We got tickets to go to the afternoon performances so that my husband could make it as the evening performances fall during his normal working hours.

It was a lovely show, with each of the year groups doing their own piece. Monkey had a speaking part in his class's play and did fantastically. Missy Woo was one of the narrators for Reception's class play because she is a good reader and has a lovely clear voice. She was back on straight away, singing songs with the rest of her class (Year 2), and they did a fantastic job of entertaining the audience.

However, one small thing stood out for me. At the end of their performance, they stood for a while on the stage to allow parents the chance to take photos, then the teacher led the children off the stage. Now, they'd obviously practised walking on and off the stage and who walked with who, but after about half of the children had left the stage, the procession stalled and the children just stood there looking a bit lost for a second, trying to work out who was next and not wanting to mess it up.

Then I saw Missy Woo silently take control of the situation. Glancing around, she caught the eye of who she thought was meant to be leaving next and directed them by gesticulating towards the exit with her index finger whilst keeping her hands by her side. The other children did as they were directed, apparently relieved that someone knew what to do, and left in the order she determined as their eyes collectively moved to her face to see where she was looking. She continued to look and point her fingers, rather like a policeman directing traffic or a conductor of an orchestra but with her arms glued to her sides until it was her turn to leave the stage, near enough the last to leave.

Little moments like this make me smile, and this one was vintage Missy Woo - quietly going about something in a way that might not be noticed but with a firm determination. She didn't do it bossily; she saw it could go wrong as the teacher had already gone and she wanted to help the others do it right. The other children obviously trusted her, which was quite sweet. I was most impressed with the way she thought on her feet - literally.

I always said she'd be running the classroom when she went to school. Seems like I was right. Any resemblance to me is purely coincidental, of course. *cough*

Yes, I do still have children!

One day soon, I will explain this picture. 

It's occurred to me that I haven't really written a post about the children in a while. No particular reason, I just don't have a lot that's new to say about them. They still amuse and frustrate me in equal measure. They drive me bonkers, but are just as likely to stop what they are doing and come and give me a hug.

Both are still doing well at school. Monkey got re-elected to School Council and he didn't even get to use this manifesto promise. Apparently, in the end, they just asked each class to vote for whoever they wanted so I'm proud he got chosen again. Missy Woo wasn't impressed though as she didn't - although she came 3rd last year and got put on school council because one of the children left school. Missy Woo gets some extra attention with her maths because she is doing so well with it. She's now learning the recorder with one of the teaching assistants in a lunchtime session. As you can imagine, this marries well with Monkey's ukulele. Music practice has been relegated to their rooms or I will go slowly mad.

Monkey also joined the school book club which also takes place at lunchtime. This is for the KS2 children so he's one of the youngest in the group. However, I'm not sure how much of this decision is swayed by the fact that he gets a biscuit. Yes, my son is that swayed by food. The book is a David Walliams and he does seem to like it.

Out of school, Monkey seems to have fallen seriously out of love with playing football. He's been going to the FA skills course for two years but it's a faff to get there on time and he tells me he's bored so he's stopping at Christmas - if I can get him to go to the last two as he keeps coming out of school and saying he doesn't want to go. We've decided he can do swimming lessons instead, and he went for a trial lesson on Sunday morning. As we were waiting for the previous class to finish, he confessed to me that he was "a little bit nervous" (later he told me that he was "petrified") but he needn't have worried. He seemed to spend the whole of the half hour lesson with a huge grin on his face as the group was smaller than usual and he seemed to be the best at what the teacher asked them to do.

Missy Woo still loves her dancing, although came out one day with a "sad face" because she couldn't do something in ballet. It turns out that her teacher is trying to prepare them for an exam early next year and she struggles with doing one thing. I had to give her a little pep talk about how she needs to practice things to get better at them and that the teacher still thinks she's a great dancer. She just  needs a little confidence boost every now and then. I can really see now that she has lessons in the way she holds her limbs if she does a little dance move.

They still fight, but equally, they drive me mad by getting the giggles together.They are thick as thieves sometimes but they are just as likely to be outraged if one of them gets something the other one doesn't. Monkey is the main culprit at this - he'll go to tea at a friend's house and have treats galore but complain if in the meantime, I have taken Missy Woo somewhere or let her have a sweet.

And there was me saying I didn't have much to say about them! They are growing every day but still not reached the age where they sleep in of a morning. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to that phase!

Of small cars and balaclavas

I may have mentioned a few times that we've been away a lot recently at the weekends - a wedding down south and to the Paralympics in London. Last weekend, I took the kids to Coventry to attend a work commitment. These days, we tend to go in husband's car even though it's quite small because my car is getting old and I worry about it breaking down, and husband's car is less than a year old. It feels much bigger on the inside - its nickname is the Tardis - but it does have its limitations.

Skoda recently offered us the chance to test drive their Citigo model as they are the sponsors of the Best Family Fun category at the MAD Blog Awards in which I'm a finalist. We decided to put it through its paces by taking it to London for the Paralympics. After all, we'd not long done the trip down south in our car so we had something to compare it to.

Skoda used to be a figure of fun as a brand, the joke car. In fact, I remember that my former partner's sister and her husband bought one and their teenage son refused to be a passenger in it, unless he was wearing his balaclava so his friends wouldn't see him. That was before Skoda got bought by Volkswagen and these days, they are not quite so socially unacceptable. In fact, Skodas are some of Monkey's favourite cars, in the way that only seven year old boys can.

When the car arrived, I realised it was a 3 door model. Not surprising really, as I'd left it late to arrange, but it was the one thing I could have done without as I was then adjusting the seats all weekend. It had pretty much everything that we have in our car, with the addition of a sat nav that also gave information about the car.

Space wise, it felt a little smaller in the cabin but the boot was bigger and all our stuff fitted in easily (not that you can really tell from this photo!). And by stuff, I mean overnight bags, bags and backpacks for taking into Olympic Park, food, drinks, and the children's school bags. In terms of build, everything felt solidly built as you would expect from Volkswagen. Our car in comparison feels like a dodgem car! The side effect of this was it felt much larger than it really was, which when it's not your car, makes for slightly nervous driving. And total heart failure when someone pulls out of the inside lane of the M6 forcing you to brake suddenly and the car behind you to come bowling up behind you and change lane at the last minute. There was probably a bigger margin for error than I estimated but all the same. Thankfully, the car remained dentless and scratchless all weekend.

The small engine seemed to have enough power to cope with all four passengers and all our "stuff" and mean we were not crawling along, and the ride was solid and smooth. What we did find odd was the sat nav - we are not used to them although I use the Navigation app on my phone a fair bit but it did seem to come up with some strange routes. One of them was a return journey from the one we'd done that morning and it sent us a totally different way, along very dark narrow roads which were obviously rat runs for the local boy racers which made for an entertaining drive and I'm pretty sure that it was no quicker - it was past 10.30pm at night after all. We stopped using it after that.

Possibly a minor detail but one thing we found odd was that there was only one power socket and not two in our car. This allows us to power our DVD player - important on long journeys - as well as charge a phone up if we need to.

One thing that did really well was the fuel economy. We got to Essex, drove around a bit there and back again on 41 litres. We had to top up a little because the tank is quite small but I worked out we averaged nearly 50 miles per gallon, which is not bad considering we were either driving stop start in queues or driving at 70mph.

Did we like it? Yes, we did mostly. Minor details irritated - and it's reinforced my feelings that you need a 4/5 door car if you have a family because you are constantly readjusting your seat and driving position when you get in the car having let your kids in. As a small car, it's probably best for driving around town - I mean, why else would it be called a Citigo? However, we found it coped well on the motorways too and therefore great for a family weekend away. The children hoped we were keeping the car but it had to go back on Monday.

Not a balaclava in sight.

7 year olds can be strange things sometimes

I love the insights you get from children sometimes.  Some of them can reveal an aspect to their personalities that you hadn't considered before.

I am sure I've mentioned in the past that Monkey loves school and learning and always tries his best, which is all you can really ask of a 7 year old. His best is pretty good too and he makes us very proud. I have always thought of him as a child who is confident in most of his abilities, but now I'm not so sure.

The other day, he told us a little story. He said that in the playground, one of the girls in his class said to him,"You're the smartest one in our class."

"That's nice," I said. "What did you say? Did you say thank you?"

He looked at me, slightly mystified. "No," he said, "I said you must be joking."

I really need to teach him how to accept compliments more gracefully.

Well, I'm not going to bore you.

Or maybe I am. You see, a few weeks ago, I received an approach to do a review and I accepted. I accepted because it was for a brand with which I have had a chequered history over time. I assumed that because they were approaching bloggers to do a review that they had got their act together.

After I had said yes, I realised that when they said they had approached bloggers, they had asked just about everyone in the parent blogging community. Review after review started to appear and I'm sure that readers who read a lot of parent blogs got very bored. Not only that, my fears were founded as many had dreadful experiences there and the best seemed to have had an OK experience, but nothing terribly great. Actually, excuse me, I think I read one completely positive review.

I had committed to doing this review so I feel I should write it. However, I'm not really sure what I can add to what's already been said but here goes.

The brand that offered me the opportunity was Frankie & Benny's, and as I said, we have a chequered history. We have had extremely slow service at times and instances of substandard food that the staff have tried to conceal, but at other times, they have been great. Our last visit had been disastrous, but nothing to do with them because Monkey was sick in the toilets shortly after we arrived. The staff were troopers and even arranged for our breakfasts to arrive at different times so one of us could sit outside with an improving by the minute 7 year old.

We chose to return to the same branch to do our review, not because we liked it so much but because it was at the Trafford Centre and we chose to meet husband there after he'd finished his marathon. The area was rammed that day because of the appalling weather, but Frankie & Benny's itself wasn't too busy. The main purpose of our review was to try out one of the four new menus. As it was a Sunday afternoon, we couldn't try the lunch or the breakfast menu so we tried the specials menu.

The kids are always well catered for with activity packs full of things that they really want to do. They love the kids menu which is £3.95 for main, dessert and a refillable drink - and it is not stingy at all. Missy Woo had the pizza because she knew that it's big - in fact, you'd expect it to be 3.95 by itself.

The specials menu was 2 courses for £10.95. Looking at the menu, it was struck by how unbalanced it was for vegetarians. All but one of the starters was vegetarian, but only one of the main courses was. This seemed strange as there were 10 choices for the mains. I was also a bit disappointed at the range of choices. - 4 pizza type dishes, 4 chicken dishes doesn't leave a lot of room for variety. We chose dough sticks and chicken wings to share with the children to start, then a New Yorker and a chicken burger for mains. When the starters arrived, I discovered how hot the wings were - there is no way the children would touch them; my lips were still tingling 10 minutes later. The children enjoyed the doughsticks before their mains arrived.

What of our mains? Well, they were OK. They weren't fantastic burgers and I felt the portion sizes were a tad small. Still, husband was still full of running gels and water so didn't finish his main but his chips got plundered by the children and me. We moved onto puddings - well, I had some crumble and the children had ice cream. Again, nothing exceptional.

The service was as good as before. The staff were generally friendly and helpful and the children loved the waiter who did tricks with drink napkins when he brought your drinks. What they loved was the staff treated them like grown ups and chatted easily to them. What I found annoying was the birthday routine. If someone has a birthday, they turn the music right up, bring out a pudding, play happy birthday (presumably singing it) then Congratulations comes on over the speakers. It's annoying enough when you're having a quietish meal and want to talk to your family but this happened SIX times in one hour, two of them back to back. I mean, seriously? I know a birthday is special  but does the whole restaurant have to be subjected to it? I sat there dreading the volume knob increasing and if I'd heard Cliff one more time, I swear I couldn't be held responsible for my actions. The only other thing that grated was that after I handed over the voucher to pay, the waiter didn't say thank you and didn't come back to explain that they weren't going to give me the balance in vouchers. In fact, the waiter barely said thank you.

Would I go again? Possibly. I would go to eat from a different menu; the lunch menu is too restrictive when you consider the price. The children love it but I yearn for something a bit different and the food really was a bit samey on the specials menu. I'm happy enough to go for breakfast but that's it. I prefer to go elsewhere for family meals although we do go occasionally because the children do get well fed.

However, I know that we were lucky that had a decent experience, and that's my problem with this. Frankie & Benny's have a reputation for providing inconsistent service that is often slow for no apparent reason and that often translates itself to the food. When I was approached, I assumed that they had put some considerable effort into offering a more consistent standard of service across the board. How wrong I was. You won't have to look far to find reviews that are far from flattering. Which begs the question - why run this campaign? Why give a large number of bloggers the chance to review your brand when you know that in some branches, they may not have a good time? People are going to be searching the internet and finding some awful reviews which people will take note of as they are written by bloggers. And I don't get why they approached so many people to do this - there is such a thing as brand fatigue if it gets written about too much but it seems that they didn't think about this when planning their campaign.

I'm sorry if you're fed up with yet another review for this brand. I shall be more careful next time - I don't like doing something that everyone else is doing because well, it's boring really. What this campaign has proved to me is that quality is definitely better than quantity and that brands really need to be sure of their product before they offer it to bloggers to try.

(I was sent a £50 voucher to use on a meal to try out one of the four new menus. The branch didn't know we were coming, nor that we were paying by voucher until we had been given the bill. I have not been told what to write and all words and opinions are my own.) 

Diminutive?

Photo credit - dimitri_c

This post might sound like I'm talking in riddles because I want to discuss Monkey and Missy Woo's names. Which are not, let me tell you, really Monkey and Missy Woo; apparently someone reading my blog the other week really thought they were their real names. Hey ho.

We chose fairly traditional names for them when they were born. Once we had chosen Monkey's name, we couldn't really chose something terribly exotic for Missy Woo, even though she has an exotic middle name. I just didn't think it would sound right saying something like "Yes, this is Robert and this is Pixie." (Note - also, not their real names!).

I always imagined that I would shorten their names once they were born. After all, I am not really a Kate (shock, horror). I was born a Katherine but always known as Katy by my family until I decided I was going to be Kate around the age of 11. In contrast, my younger sister has never been known by anything other than her full name, apart from when she had a kind of nickname I used when I couldn't say it as a toddler.

Since the children arrived, I have never used diminutives for their names. If I don't use their full names, it's their nicknames.... which are actually Monkey and Missy Woo. More to the point, I don't like the thought of using shortened versions of their names. This is particularly true of Missy Woo. Her name is a bit of a mouthful but her name is the feminine version of a male name and the short version just makes her sound like a boy. Which she most definitely not - she's very girly. It just doesn't sound right. I thought I wouldn't mind about others shortening her name, but if I hear someone using it, it's the verbal equivalent of running fingernails down blackboards to. I wince. I don't say anything as I don't like to correct people, partly because although we gave Missy Woo that name, it's now hers to do with it what she likes. I don't have to like it necessarily.

A couple of years ago, her eldest cousin (who is in his 30s now) told me that he called her by the short version and she told him in no uncertain terms what her name was. Things have changed since then - she's started school and it doesn't help that the only other girl in the school with the same name as her uses the shortened version, which kind of sets an expectation that she will be the same.

I thought about suggesting other alternatives to her when she wants to write the shortened version of her name, but would that just confuse her? Probably not - she told me a little while ago that she'd like to be called Rosie (not even close), for reasons I have yet to work out. Going on the basis that the grass is always greener, I laughed it off. I seem to remember I told my Dad once that I wanted to be called by a different name. Now that I'm a parent, and knowing that it was he that specifically chose my name, I understand how that can feel like a metaphorical slap in the face from the child whose name you took so much care over choosing, and agonising over how to define them.

For now, I think I'll just carry on in my own way. I don't know why, but the names we chose for them just feel right so I shall go on using them in full. I shall continue to wince, but bite my tongue, if someone uses diminutives for them in my presence. And in time, they will come to know how they want their name to define them and choose how they want to be addressed by those around them.

And that's when I'll turn into the mother that uses their Sunday names.

Do you shorten your children's names? Do you mind it when others do or are you protective of using the correct names for them? Or have you never used your child's full name and used a diminutive instead? Or did you choose a name for your child, and then regret it? Do leave a comment and let me know. 

When Five Fs go bad - a guest post

Photo credit - dsigning

I'm having a break from blogging today, because it's my birthday so instead, I'm giving you a guest post from the lovely Jo Middleton who blogs at Slummy Single Mummy as a little present from me. When Jo asked me if she could write a guest post and asked what she could write about, I told her that as long as it fitted roughly within my five Fs, I'd be happy to publish what she wrote. She took me up rather literally on this, and decided to cram them all in at once. In one post. Brace yourselves... 

I was instructed before writing this post that the theme should fit in with one of the ‘five Fs’ - family, football, food, fitness or fun – and so being the awkward person I am, I decided I would challenge myself to make it fit in with all of them.

Family, food and fun are easy of course, but football and fitness are more of a challenge, as I’m really not very keen on either, but then I remembered a rather unflattering story about a family football match...

I have quite a small family, but on my Dad’s 60th birthday last year we managed to get about 15 of us together to celebrate with a wholesome family picnic. (Food, family and fun – check, check and check).

My Dad’s birthday is in November, which isn’t exactly ideal picnic weather, and the light drizzle and biting wind wasn’t exactly adding to the occasion. Someone, (not me), came up with the idea of us all warming up with a game of football. (Football and fitness – check and check).

I felt a bit like how I imagine an alcoholic feels when they accidentally find themselves in a pub – I knew I wanted to play, but I also knew I shouldn’t.

I have a reputation in my family for being a tad over-competitive, and team sports like football don’t exactly bring out the best in me. My partner recently played Monopoly with me and has vowed never again. Something about me making games Not Fun. I could surely control myself in a friendly family game of football though?

Apparently not.

My then eight-year-old daughter Belle was a team captain. “You really should pick me,” I warned her. “You don’t want to be playing against me.” She didn’t listen though, foolish child.

The rain was coming down steadily as we kicked off. I began calmly, trying to remain light-hearted, but then Belle’s team scored a goal and suddenly I was shouting at my team mates and scowling. They scored another, and it was all too much. Belle had the ball, ready to shoot, her face eager and excited. I went in for what I meant to be a gentle tackle, but completely knocked her legs out from under her. She lay crying in a muddy puddle. Everyone looked at me.

“I did tell her not to play against me!” I said, in a pathetic attempt at self defence.

Even I wasn’t convinced.

Unsurprisingly, the football wrapped up fairly quickly after that, and before long the rain drove us back to our cars, a valuable lesson learnt in why you should never try to combine the five Fs...

Remind me never to play Jo at anything, not ever. Huge thanks to her for writing this post. 

A trip to the National Railway Museum

The Duchess of Hamilton

Our busy half-term weekend continued on Sunday when we were invited to York to visit the National Railway Museum. We were there as VIPs, which actually was rather lovely. That meant for us that we had access to their car park, which at £9 a day, is quite expensive but then, it is York after all. If you're on a budget however, York has numerous park and ride sites around the city and it's £2.30 return per adult to travel, with up to two children under 16 travelling free per paying adult. The children, Monkey in particular, would have preferred to go in on the bus as they are bendy buses, which convinced him that we were, of course, in Barcelona. Nice logic, but I think the weather was a bit cool in comparison with Catalunya.

Once at the NRM, entrance is free for all, although you can buy a guide costing £5. As VIPs, this cost us nothing, but I must admit, I didn't have chance to read it until we got home because I was on my own with the children due to husband working, and needed eyes in the back of my head! Some activities cost extra but we had vouchers to cover the cost of them as a VIP group.

Bekonscot Model Village

All the fun of the fair

Bekonscot is probably the place I first went on school trips. As a child, we visited several times as it's a short drive from where I grew up. I fond memories of visits there and as a child, I found it captivating.

For all the times we've visited family "back home", we've never taken the children there. We never seem to have the time to go in short trips down to my mother's but she mentioned it a few times in our last visits but they never came off. This time though, we planned to take them there if the weather was right and thankfully, the weather forecast for today was good - although it started badly as it was raining a little at 9am but sunny by 11am when we set off.

Missy Woo gets up close and personal

All the way there, the children were obviously struggling with a concept of what a model village was and what they could do there. I explained that the houses were much smaller than normal and Monkey said "but how can there be shops?" (Guess who had just been given a shiny £2 coin by my mum's neighbour that was burning a hole in his pocket?) I tried to explain that the buildings were so small that noone could go inside them, and they couldn't really see the point of the place!

Monkey stops long enough for me to take a pic!

After a bit of driving round, we found a suitable parking place. (I'll come back to that). We arrived just after 12 which seemed to be when a lot of people arrived. Bekonscot accept Clubcard rewards so we got in for a lot less than the full price (a family ticket is £26.00). The children had their photograph taken and then we took them into the village and once they could actually see the models, they got what a model village really was. And they were captivated as I was when I was a small child. Their eyes shone with excitement and I had to contain them from running around (they have signs announcing "No running please" around the place). For every turn of the path, they discovered new things. And to Monkey's delight, there were model trains running around the place. Our visit was punctured with "Mummy, look at this!", "Look, a train!", "What's that, Mummy?" as they passed from scene to scene. I was so thrilled that they too were taking enjoyment from something I remember so clearly enjoying from my own childhood.

When we stopped for lunch at the tea room / picnic area, the children decided to spend some of their shiny new coins on ice lollies and they learned a lesson in queueing after they hung around the front and the lady sent them to the back of the queue.  And they nearly forgot to pay!

After a quick run round the children's playground, they were off again around the rest of the village, climbing the viewing platform that allows you to look across the whole of the model village. The village is well organised throughout with a one way system in operation for most of it but it can get clogged up in places as the paths are narrow - if you are going with a buggy, I would recommend taking the smallest and narrowest one you own! Towards the end are remote controlled boats, and a light railway which costs a pound each and takes you on a short trip round the garden area. All of this was of course topped off with a visit to the souvenir shop, where I got off lightly - Monkey found a model plane (not totally relevant apart from the planes flying overhead in and out of Heathrow) and Missy Woo a fetching purple wallet which will actually have use when she has toast money to take to school.

From the viewing gallery

Our visit took us about two hours although you could stay longer if you went round again. Beyond the village, everything does seem pretty organised and well thought out (apart from the ticket office, which seemed pretty slow). They have a shed where you can store your picnics, the picnic area has a sheltered part to shade from rain or sun and there is even a glasshouse style shed for indoor picnics in case that doesn't provide enough shelter. You don't feel ripped off anywhere at all - I like that they give all their profits to charity too.

If you ever go, these would be my tips:

- There is limited free parking just beyond and opposite the entrance which is likely to fill up quickly.
- If that is full, do NOT park in Waitrose car park just beyond it.There were signs up saying you are likely to get fined. There is a 2 hour limit for parking there but I guess you could avoid by visiting the shop. Possibly.
- If you don't get there early enough to bag a space, I would suggest arriving after 12. There is on street parking on the roads beyond Warwick Road on yellow lines where you can't park between 11am and 12 noon and that's only a few minutes walk away. No need to park in pay and display car parks.
- Don't fret if you don't fancy doing a picnic. The tea room looked pretty decent and the prices weren't extortionate. We bought 4 drinks and a sandwich which came to £8. I spied pieces of pizza for 99p.  I didn't tell the children, bad mummy!

Today felt like I stepped back in time and I saw Bekonscot through the children's eyes again. It has an enduring, timeless quality to it where it feels like it harks back to a forgotten age that perhaps lives on only in Enid Blyton books but it still delights children with its variety and feels familiar to them. It's changed and moved with the times but essentially, it's still the same as it was when I was small, a very very long time ago.

I have not been paid to write this post - I just wrote it because I wanted to!

Exploring more with Hyundai

We were very lucky on Saturday to be guests of Hyundai at Knowsley Safari Park and try out their i40 Tourer on the Safari Drive. Are they mad?

The children were very excited about a trip to the safari park as they seem to like zoos. We got there and found our way to the Hyundai centre, where I checked in whilst the children did some colouring. They gave me a time slot and even better, unlimited ride wristbands for all of us! We grabbed a quick coffee and did a scout around at the rides which were not yet open. We discovered the children were big enough for all of the rides - something that has never happened before.

Then, it was time for our drive. I was pretty nervous as I've never driven a car that size. The biggest car I've ever owned was an Audi A4. I got Monkey to choose which car - he chose the shiny black one with the chrome fittings which turned out to be top of the range model! The chap showed me around the car - and oh, my God! How different? My car is 7 years old and the most electronic thing is a digital odometer! This had no key, touchscreen controls for everything, and an electronic handbrake! I'm quite comfortable with new technology but this was a bit daunting. It even had a rear parking camera - for which thank God!

The Gallery - Vintage

I've touched on this story before,but for this week's theme of Vintage on The Gallery, I thought I would tell you the story of how I came to own probably the oldest thing that I possess.

When we were children, we had a few neighbours that we were quite close to. One of them was called Doll (short for Doris) who lived a few doors down the hill from us. She had married quite late in life and so didn't have children. She kind of adopted us (and we he) because my maternal grandmother died before I was born and my mum wasn't close to her dad. We used to visit them quite regularly, even as small children.

Dads

I've written about my Dad before, and I feel I've written about him enough. I've probably bored you all rigid talking about him in previous posts. So, today for the theme of Dads at the Gallery, I'm going to talk about another Dad - my husband's dad and Monkey and Missy Woo's granddad, my father-in-law.

At the end of last year, he was diagnosed with a bowel tumour. The prognosis was good but he had to have radiotherapy followed by an operation. The operation was either going to be keyhole surgery - for which a short hospital stay would be needed - or more invasive surgery, requiring a stay of one to two weeks. The irony for me was that he was having the operation on a day significant to me - the tenth anniversary of my Dad's death.

The operation didn't go well, requiring some quite major surgery. What we weren't prepared for was what happened afterwards. He moved wards several times as his condition dictated and sometimes to get the care he needed (sad but true), gradual improvement followed by relapses, and a lot of frustration. He managed to have a trip home one weekend to see how he got on, only for him to become really quite ill a few days later, extending his stay even further. The children weren't allowed into the wards he was on quite a lot, so they saw him a few times when they were allowed to visit but not half as often as they would do normally. Quite difficult for them as they love seeing Granddad (and Granny).

Finally, he left hospital, in mid-March. That one or two-week stay had become 3 months. Christmas didn't really happen. New Year was a blur. He went in during midwinter with snow on the ground and came out as spring approached.

Since leaving hospital, he's continued to improve - he's had regular visits to hospital for ongoing treatment, including one further overnight stay, but was soon home again. He's gradually become more mobile, although he's still walking with a stick. He's been back to see Blackpool play again (poor thing) and they even finally went on a Baltic cruise that they had previously had to cancel because of his illness.

The day after they came home this weekend, we held a family party. The weather was rank. The lady delivering hotpot managed to get lost coming from about two minutes away and someone had to be sent to help her find the house. It didn't matter. Everyone in the family made it to the party, except one grandson who had university exams. It was a lovely afternoon. One of those slightly chaotic but fun family parties.

There was a cake, which we put candles on and my brother-in-law made a speech. It took about 10 minutes, with various people cracking jokes and interrupting him; partly, I think, to relieve the tension. Because, by the end of the speech, everyone was in tears. After a difficult few months, it was truly a cause to celebrate that this Dad is still around for this year's Father's Day.

So my picture today was taken at that party. My father-in-law surrounded by his family.

Dad of five. Grandfather of fourteen. Great-grandfather of two. Happy Father's Day.

It's oh so quiet...

Something is not right in the house. The house, once tidied,. has stayed tidy. Toys have been returned to the playroom and stayed there, instead of reappearing when I turn my back to litter the floor. The carpet, once vaccumed, has stayed clear of crumbs (I wouldn't go so far as to call it clean...). The kitchen is clear of detritus and everything has been put away soon after it's been used. The noise levels have reduced to a minimum - for a change, I can hear myself think.

Not only that, I have raced through to-do lists like there's no tomorrow. Items that often take me days to tick off have disappeared. Used to finishing only a few tasks each day, I write a to do list for each day but yesterday, I ran out of tasks to do - and managed to find two more to finish instead. My to-do list for today, whilst short, was completed early.

This is unheard of. This is unprecedented. So what has given rise to this new, organised, domesticated calm that has descended upon this house? Have I been reading self-help books on how to organise my life? Have I been offered money for every task I get done? No.

The answer is quite simple: I am the only person here. The rest of the family have gone camping. They left on Wednesday for a holiday park somewhere near Southport. Not far away if things go horribly wrong, but far enough away to be not here. They're coming home sometime today - although they were already contemplating a late departure, so it's unlikely I will see them much before teatime. And let me tell you, it's bliss.The space in my brain normally reserved for working out what's next is free to do what it wants. Mostly, it's been focused on getting my jobs done. Oh, and maybe watching a bit of tennis. Maybe.

Instead of sitting down, and a voice piping up "Can I have a drink?" the second my backside hits the chair, I've sat in peace. Jobs have been done quickly because there have been no interruptions. No constant questions. No answers to questions that take five minutes instead of a few seconds.

A long time ago, I used to live in this house alone. It almost seems weird that I ever did - just me in a big four-bedroomed house; but I did. I think that it's actually way too big for one person but maybe, just maybe, I was just a house-sitter for a few years until we grew into it and made it a proper family home. And yes, it does feel odd being here for so long completely alone now. But, for a couple of years at least, this was my life.

So, as you might have guessed, I'll be more than happy to see them again when they come home. It's been lovely to get things straight once and know that they'll stay that way. It's lovely to have space and only work to one timetable - mine. But it's also lovely to have a house full of mess (sort of) and laughter. Full of random utterings, giggles, cuddles with a large dose of frustration thrown in. My God, I've changed. I'd have never thought I could enjoy the chaos that is family life. But I do. It's been blissful to have space and peace for a couple of days but I'll be ready for them when they return. The children will get a huge hug when they come back. I might even make them a cake. It's just the washing I won't look forward to.

And you know what? For all the peace and quiet, I still can't drink a whole cup of tea hot. Perhaps that's not the children's fault after all...

Gino and me (part 1)

When I received an email entitled “Gino D’Acampo”, I thought it was a press release. Imagine my shock when I found it was an invitation to meet and interview the Italian TV chef, famous for cooking nude on This Morning and winning “I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here” in 2009. I was dumbstruck, because well, I’m a blogger, not a journalist!

So, one Monday morning, I was scribbling nervously on a tube into London, making sure I had questions covering all of the five Fs that this blog is about. I had tweeted about my nerves the night before, and had a tweet back from Gino. When I walked in, my mouth suddenly dry and trying to maintain my composure, he recognised me from my profile picture straight away. Luckily, after me fumbling around with setting my phone to record and getting my notebook out, the conversation started to flow and I forgot my nerves. In fact, we talked so much that I know we went over the time allotted for the interview and covered so much that I’ve split this into two parts.

It seemed natural to start the interview by talking about Twitter. Gino is a big fan and told me why he loves it. “I think it’s a good way to get a response from people straight away, and you can be sociable with people, it’s great. What’s the point of doing my job if I don’t ever have the chance to talk to people that follow me?” He likes to reply to his followers but he can’t reply to everyone – he has over 200,000 followers!

I’d been invited to do the interview as part of a campaign being launched today with Cheestrings called Gino’s Good Food Fight. I asked him why he was doing it. “I got together with Cheestrings to start Gino’s Good Food Fight because I wanted to help busy mums who are preparing lunchboxes. I wanted to make sure that whatever they put in there is healthy and a bit of fun in the lunch box. We need to excite children. What we wanted to achieve is when kids open their lunchbox, they are excited and open it with a smile, so they eat healthy with a smile.” I wondered if his children – he has two boys, aged 9 and 6 – had packed lunches. They don’t at school, but Gino tells me they have them when they go to football and rugby and that Rocco, his youngest, gets excited just having a lunchbox, just like Monkey and Missy Woo do. “We want to make sure that the excitement is still there. That’s the idea of Gino’s Good Food Fight.”

Gino says his boys are good eaters and try everything because that is how they have raised them. He feels that it’s down to the parents to get children to try new foods. “A lot of parents, they’re scared to let them try stuff... Some parents, they don’t like certain things. They automatically assume their kids won’t like it... My little boy, he never liked broccoli but the third time that he tried it, he thought it was the best thing ever. You should try something at least two or three times.” His approach to food with his sons is very much the same as his parents’ approach when he was a child. “My mum and dad always wanted me to try something new. It’s the same with my boys.”

I was interested in how they ate at home and whether it was mainly Italian. He told me it was a bit of everything – from Italian to barbeques and Sunday roasts. When pressed on his favourite cuisine apart from Italian, he chose Thai and Mediterranean cuisine as his favourites. “I like Mediterranean cuisine because I find it very full of flavour, very interesting.”

You won’t be surprised to learn that he usually does most of the cooking at home.  “I’m one of these people that if somebody else is in the kitchen, I have to get in there and do something .My wife hates that. The nanny hates that as well”. Things might be changing, however. “I’m chilling out lately, I have to say, I’m trying to avoid the kitchen. One of the reasons why is the nanny and my wife, they completely banned me from there because they say that I always find something wrong.” I’m sensing the perfectionist in him when it comes to food.

That’s it for part 1. Come back tomorrow, when Gino tells me the secret to good Italian food, his opinion of the state of Italian restaurants in the UK, and I find out Gino has been looking in my fridge!

Visit Cheestrings.com to learn more about Gino’s Good Food Fight, and see how Cheestrings are working to help mums make good food fun for the lunchbox.

(I have not been paid a fee to write this interview, although my travel expenses were paid. I have included links to the Cheestrings website as requested but other than that, I have not been told what to write.)

The Gallery - My blog

When Tara says she's set a tough challenge, my heart normally sinks and I don't feel any better after I've found out what it is, spending the weekend scratching my head and then scrabbling around at the last minute to produce something. Heck, last week, it was so late, I didn't even start the post until Wednesday afternoon! Well, this week, for a change, I looked at the theme for this week and thought "I can do that!" straight away. It was a gimme - well, for me anyway.

For the theme is "My blog". In other words, I must produce one photograph that sums up my blog. With a blog name like mine, that's easy. The only problem was putting it together and making it work as a photo. That included making cakes! I really hope Tara appreciate the lengths I have gone to this week for her - no point and snap for me, this has taken a good hour or more of preparation. I think that demonstrates true dedication to the cause.

So, ladies and gentlemen, I give you my blog - The Five Fs.

To represent each of the five Fs, we have:

- Family - pictures of Monkey and Missy Woo at school and nursery respectively
- Football - one of my old Preston North End replica shirts
- Food - banana and chocolate cupcakes
- Fitness - my new trainers, which was a Mother's Day present from the children
- Fun - one of the toys we've been lucky enough to review recently

The Five Fs. The five things in my life that I am most passionate about. The five things that I (mostly) blog about. One photo, five Fs. Done!


If you have a blog, how would you depict yours in one photo?

The Five Fs recommends... Barcelona

As you will have noticed from my Gallery post, we've just come back from Barcelona. Well, actually it was just the three of us - Missy Woo went to stay with her Granny for a few nights, so it was just us and Monkey. I thought I'd do a post recommending various places based on each of the five Fs that this blog is (mostly) about. These are purely personal recommendations - everything I've mentioned is purely because we love them.

Firstly, we have family. Barcelona is generally family friendly as the Spanish love children. Monkey got in the way of a few passing pedestrians and the worst he got in return was an indulgent smile and a ruffle of his hair. Getting around is not too bad, even for those still in the buggy years, thanks to copious lifts on the Metro system. My main recommendation in this category is The Patio B&B. It has only two rooms so it's perfect for families who can take over the place therefore not disturb anyone nor be disturbed. It is amazingly quiet, save the distant rumble of Metro trains passing through the tube station across the road - it's located at the back of an apartment block and is surrounded by buildings on all sides. Traffic noise is often a problem when staying in Barcelona so a quiet retreat is great, especially when you have children. What really makes it for me are the owners, Liz and Tony. Liz is English and is a source of lots of information and great help to make your stay run smoothly. She was great with Monkey too, who benefited to the tune of several chocolate bars! A stay there is so relaxed; our second stay there was as good as the first, if not better. We'll be going back.

Our view last Saturday

Then, there is football. You can't really go to Barcelona and not visit the Nou Camp, can you? The Nou Camp experience is the most popular museum in Barcelona but not that good for children - Monkey spent only half an hour there before he got bored. However, actually going to a match is a different experience but not a particularly straightforward one. Let me offer a few tips:

• Although the fixtures for a weekend are known months in advance, kick off times are not decided until 2 weeks beforehand which makes planning difficult. Kick off times can be anything from 6pm until 10pm, 9pm on Sunday so small children might need to stay up, but it's worth it for those who are into football, plus it makes a Sunday night flight home impossible if you are planning a trip.
  
• Season ticket holders can sell their tickets back to the club for resale if they cannot attend a match. This means tickets become available at any time and is the only way you can buy tickets for most areas. If you can't get what you want straight away, keep trying. You may not be able to get tickets together, particularly in a large group but you can often swop once you get inside. Tickets cost between 32-102 euro, more for bigger games.
  
• If you want to buy tickets in advance of travelling, buy your tickets from servicaixa.com - we tried several times over to book tickets from the FC Barcelona site and it wouldn't let us. A phone call to Spain pointed us at this site and it actually worked.
  
• If you do book tickets online, you still have to turn up with the card you used and some photo ID to collect tickets. I spent an hour queueing (and I use that term loosely) to collect our tickets because we did so on match day. If you can go on another day to collect, you'll probably wait a lot less! You can also collect from ServiCaixa terminals of La Caixa bank - IF you can find one.
  

• Finally, get there early. The layout of the stadium is not straightforward and they send you in an access door which forces you to walk round to your "boca" (block).. and then the odd numbered seats are one side of the aisle, and the evens the other! And be prepared for a crush on the Metro on the way home after, or walk if you're feeling up to it.

Next, we have food. I have to be honest here and say we discovered nowhere new this time. Our itinerary didn't really allow it. We apply the following rules when selecting where to eat:

- nice outdoor chairs; plastic ones are a total no-no
- the bar must stock Amaretto; not my guideline and this is not always strictly applied!
- there must be no pictures of the food, especially the dayglo ones that are supposed to make it look more appetising but fail
- never, ever buy anything to eat, other than perhaps an ice cream, on the Ramblas, it'll be expensive rubbish

Most of our eating occurred in two small chains where we've had some great tapas. The first is Tapa Tapa, which I've visited every time I've been to Barcelona and our first meal this time was down at their restaurant in Maremagnum, where we sat outside at Monkey's insistence. (I know they are environmentally unfriendly, but thank God for patio heaters!) We had some stunning calamari there, and tried some black rice with allioli which was gorgeous. The second was Taller de Tapas where we had some great patatas bravas and a tapa of spinach, pancetta and chickpeas, an old favourite of ours. We were very happy when we discovered there is one close to the Nou Camp so we stopped there before we went to the match.

And a special mention for Buenas Migas as a great stop off point for coffee and cake, or their great foccaccia. Husband managed to steer us in the direction of the branch behind the cathedral as he wanted some of their flapjack with yogurt but we also discovered their salami dolce this time around which is enough for two to share! I think we've pretty much visited all the branches in the city in our time and they're always good.

So, we're onto fitness. Strangely, I don't have too many things to say about that. You walk in Barcelona. A lot. Even if you go by Metro, you walk. You soon discover that most line changes actually involve a walk of around half a mile. It's generally pleasant walking in Barcelona if you can avoid the crowds (in which case, give the Ramblas a miss at busy times although you have to experience it once). But if you really want a fitness challenge, perhaps consider entering the Barcelona Marathon. The scenery is stunning and it's only 50 euro to register which is much cheaper than, say, the London Marathon. And it's much quieter too - only 13,000 out of 15,000 registered started last Sunday although it has grown rapidly in recent years, meaning you will get a place rather than having to go through a ballot.

Monkey and Miró

Finally, fun! There is actually quite a lot for children to do in Barcelona. An aquarium for starters, which we didn't get time to visit, nor CosmoCaixa (a science museum) a bit out of the city centre. There are also tons of smaller parks, but Monkey discovered his favourite on our final day. It's Parc Joan Miró, where there is huge Miró statue which totally dwarfed Monkey, but also extensive play areas for different ages of children as well as football pitches and basketball courts. It has a café too, so parents are catered for whilst their children run off some steam. Perfect.

We have been to Barcelona many times, and we will no doubt go again. It never fails as a great place to visit and now Monkey loves it as much as we do. As I said at the start, I've recommended these places I've mentioned here purely because we love them. If you go to Barcelona and try them out, we hope that you will too.

To my brother

I never knew you. We occupied the same space but a few months apart. We grew, we were both nurtured and loved. By the time it was my turn, it was already too late, you were gone.

Something went wrong. Something happened to you which meant it was over before it started. You died before you were born. Your heart stopped. Mum had to give birth to a dead baby. A boy. Is that perhaps the thing that hurts the most - that you were the only boy she had and you were stillborn? I cannot imagine how it must have felt to lose a baby in those circumstances. Now that I am a mother myself, the thought alone of losing a child cuts me in two.

Photo credit: gc85

I grew up knowing about you but was never made to feel I or our younger sister were only replacements for the loss of you. We were kept light on the details, presumably because Mum and Dad wanted to shield us from what happened, and still, to this day, I don't think I know the full story. I remember where you were buried. I thought I was imagining that it was part of a playground but I think there are playing fields close to the cemetery. I have never been there as an adult. Perhaps I should. 

Thinking about you now has made me realise something. If you had been born alive and healthy, it's possible I never would have been born as I know I was born quite soon after you. That is quite a frightening thought - that neither I nor my children may not ever have existed, and possibly our sister too. Who knows? Not only is it quite frightening, it actually makes me question why. Why did I survive and you didn't? Neither of us did anything to deserve what happened to us. Should I feel guilty that I got to experience life whereas you didn't? I am sad that you didn't live. No first smile, no first steps, no first day at school. No joy at discovering new things. No sadness. Nothing.

Your birth and death coloured my own arrival. I don't blame you for that, it's just how it is. Mum worried throughout pregnancy. I think that she blames herself to this day and feels she could have done more to prevent your stillbirth. She must have carried that guilt along with me. Names were not discussed; I don't think Mum even dared to think of having a live baby, let alone its name. Dad chose my name and came up with it once I was born safely and Mum asked him what they should call me. 

Growing up, I tried to imagine what it would be like to have you as a brother. It would be wrong to say I craved it but I would have loved the chance to find out. An older brother to play different games with, someone to shield and protect me. Looking at Monkey and Missy Woo, I wonder whether our relationship would have been as close as theirs had we both survived. I also wonder if some of the things that happened to me in childhood would have done if I'd had a big brother been round to keep an eye on me. Would my childhood or family have been different, and if so, how?

Life can be full of "what ifs", but this is bigger than all of them. It's about a whole person who should have been, but wasn't. The baby that never became a boy that never became a man, an uncle, possibly a father. What if you had been born? What would you have been like? 

I have been thinking about you a lot recently because a stillbirth happened to someone I know. They may go on to have other babies. People may think that those children will be largely unaffected by a former stillbirth. I tell you now - they won't be, but you knew that already, didn't you? Unless the parents keep it a secret from them, they will always wonder about the baby that was never born that could have been their sibling. I don't feel pain. I don't really feel loss because I never lost you. It makes me feel numb to think about you. Even 46 years on, you seep into my thoughts from time to time. And I wonder. I'll never stop wondering because the questions I have in my head will never be answered. No-one can answer them except you, and you can't.

To my brother, whom I never knew. Rest in peace. 

For information and support on stillbirths and neonatal deaths, please visit the Sands website.

Baby Face

Tara from Sticky Fingers set us an easy one this week. The prompt for the Gallery was Children. Now, as you know, I like to post copious pictures of Monkey and Missy Woo given the chance, but I feel it's wearing thin, so I thought I would do something slightly different.

Unusually for a third child, I was the first grandchild in my dad's family. This is because my elder sisters are half sisters and had a different dad. Now, I'm sure you all know that a first grandchild is often a much treasured thing by immediate family and the attention lavished on said grandchild is akin to the same sort you'd give to visiting royalty. As a result, there were tons of photographs taken of me, compared to my younger sister who arrived 18 months later, even in the long-before-digital era. If I also remember correctly, I was also the first great grandchild - which is amazing as both my paternal grandparents were from large families - and I believe my great-grandfather changed his will to make me sole benefactor. However, he had a change of heart before he died and left it all to a cattery or something when he died a few years later. (There was a suggestion that he was "targeted" by one of his carers, but I don't think anything was proven and after all, it was his choice. I don't think it would have made me rich, he was not well off at all.)

When I was in my late teens, my now late uncle gave me a green plastic wallet. In there were several photos of me in the back garden of my grandparent's house - I can tell by the pebble dashing and the layout, it's ingrained in my memory. I had never seen these photos before but my uncle had taken them, had them developed and kept them to give to me to keep when I was an adult. I still have those photos in the same green wallet, stashed away in my file of important things. This one is probably the cutest - some of them I am pulling some embarrassingly horrible faces. I look like I have quite a tan there (note no sunshade too - who'd heard of skin cancer back in the 60s?), so I'd say it's summer time and therefore I'm about 6-7 months old.

Stop sniggering at the back there. Where's YOUR baby pic then, eh?

(Please take a look at the Gallery and visit some of the other entries, they are always brilliant.)