Wales weekender

Making a dash for the border on Sunday we managed to miss the bank holiday traffic and kiss goodbye to the torrential rain that was blighting Yorkshire. Grace didn't make a peep on the way over the Pennines, focused solely on Peppa Pig DVDs and a snack pot of fruit. 

Hitting the hills around Wrexham we hooked up with Laura and Matt who kindly laid on the picnic of Kings at Erddig National Trust park and ordered us to sit and eat. Grace might have let out a weeny 'no way Jose' to the sitting down, but she did munch her way through a fair portion of carrot sticks before stuffing her face on mini pork pies and sausage rolls. I'd like to say I ate like a fairy and had nothing but crudités and the delicious beetroot and sesame dip, but you know me better than that by now and I do believe I polished off just about everything edible. Gannet.

Anyway, I digress. Apart from finding we'd parked the picnic blanket on a lonesome dog turd (much annoyed), we had a lovely wee while sat by the stream, watching Grace play in the water and watching Husband Matt look like a fairy when he tried and failed to walk on water crossing from one side of the steam to the other on the stepping stones. Funny as! 

Grace was treated to a ladybird cake handcrafted by Laura, and we all got a solid nights sleep, helped along by a few bottles of vino and a beef casserole. Zzzz.

Turns out we didn't sleep all that well. Grace woke in the night for the first time in memory and insisted Daddy slept in her bed on the floor. Thermarested up with a kids duvet, the Husband was snoring within minutes leaving me to wrestle a child who was relishing in the novelty of being in bed with her Mummy. Eventually she fell asleep but I retreated to the foot of the bed to nurse my bruised ribs from being kicked and whacked from a sleeping child.

That said, it didn't dampen our day as we headed out to Cilcain for the summer fete, complete with Teddy Parachuting. Ice cream and a brass band later, we strapped up Mr Ted and sent him up for his virgin jump off of the church roof. What a brave bear....

Fortunately Grace slept all the way home which was a godsend considering we sat in a jam on the motorway for over an hour. We were soon home though and back to reality of life, work and childcare, eat (eat some more), sleep. Repeat. 

Smashing weekend. One happy Grace Bear, one daredevil Teddy. Two knackered Parents. Night all...

Dirty rotten scoundrels!

And the winner of the muckiest feet award goes to........ Grace! 

At the end of a day out to Anglesey Abbey, Lode Mill and Thetford Forest, Grace had turned a grubby shade of dust and the wrinklies were tired with running around after Grace. Uncle Frank took turns with Grandpa running races on the lawns at the Abbey but Grace won and has a National Trust medal to prove it!

Alas on the day Grace declared her knees fully heeled from the previous wipeout, she takes another flying tumble and scrapes both knees and palms again. Poor Mummy's little soldier, a few tears but nothing a gingerbread man couldn't fix. 

We're off home tomorrow, the end of a super week away from the treadmill as we know it. It's been great spending time with family, makes you realise that Yorkshire isn't all that close to Norfolk after all....

A breath of fresh air

Three weeks into being unemployed and the novelty is wearing off and I'm running out of things to chalk off my to-do list. I'm questioning my sanity and wondering if all that time spent trumpeting my decision making skills in the past has turned on me and taken a whopping big bite out of my backside. I forgive myself though as I gather holding a grudge against oneself achieves very little so instead I pack up the car and head for the hills, literally.

Albeit with the Husband and toddler in tow, I turn off the mobile phone and go tech-free for a three day trip to the Lake District, shoe-horning every essential and many questionable choices into the back of I car I only bought to fit a better buggy into, I realise my history in making decisions has been somewhat flawed. Nonetheless I stuff a bottle of red into the glovebox, set sat-nav to GO, and head off for a back to basics weekend with Grace, neither camping or glamping, but somewhere comfortably inbetween the two staying in a camping pod at the National Trust campsite at Great Langdale. How apt.

Revelling in the luxury of having a roof over our heads with heating when there is still snow on the high peaks outside, I'm gloating merrily at the soggy looking campers rolling out of bed the morning after a night of drizzle. Me, I'm suffering a different fate with Grace being scared of 'pitch black' of the night and the hooting owls that kept her awake and worried for a good hour in the night. We held hands a lot and she thanked me for saving her in the morning. Glad to be of help.

Loving the freedom to roam, Grace enjoyed herself and didn't want to get in the car when it was time to pack up and come home. She'd seemingly gotten used to getting water from the tap across a field, cooking on a camp stove and sleeping on the floor in a glorified shed. As luck would have it this is useful in the event I'm unemployed forever and have to revert to the simple life to keep our heads above water. At least I know we can do it.

We visited Windemere, Keswick, Ambleside and Skipton Castle in passing, each offering the chance of a coffee shop pit stop to fill up on a slice of tiffin.

It was a shock to the system returning to reality as we came back over the hill into Leeds and I realised I'd had three days to just live life with my family and enjoy it without worrying about the trappings of life as we know it. And Grace is back into her usual routine of nursery, ballet and swimming, reminding me at every corner that she'd very much like to go camping again Mummy so she can be with me.