Cry Baby

Me, not Delightful Child (although he definitely has his moments). However, if DC decides to cry in the middle of the Marks and Spencers cafe, that wouldn't really be a head-turning event (unless he was really screaming I suppose.) But when a grown woman decides to shed a few tears over her 'Luxury Hot Chocolate' (that's with added whipped cream and marshmallows - a new mum needs the extra calcium for her bones and sugar for energy...), then that's just weird, isn't it?!

Since I got pregnant, the tears just flow so much more readily. When the Olympics were on last year, I found myself getting all weepy when people were awarded their medals - didn't matter whether it was Team GB or Team Kazakhstan (although of course it was much more rewarding to find Team GB on the podium). Now I find myself able to cry at the drop of a hat at tv programmes, adverts, films and, as I discovered yesterday in M&S, books. I'm currently reading The Book Group by Elizabeth Noble; not necessarily the sort of book you would expect to reduce you to tears but there was just a little section about the birth of twins, one of whom was stillborn (I'm welling up as I type this just thinking about it - talk about soppy!) And the tears just trickled down my face; luckily I had a couple of serviettes to hand to swipe them away but not before the man on the next table asked if the air conditioning was bothering me!

I guess those hormones must still be coursing through my veins.

Morris Dancers and Tiddleywink

On Sunday hubby, Arthur and I continued our search for "the perfect place to live" with a trip to Wiltshire and Somerset. Our ultimate goal was Bradford-on-Avon, which we had heard from several sources was a rather pretty little place. Along the way we passed through Wotton Bassett, Calne, Melksham, Box and Corsham, not to mention countless other tiny wee villages and hamlets. Unfortunately, none of the places we visited passed our exacting standards, not even Bradford-on-Avon which, although extremely pretty, just didn't tick enough boxes as a place where we could see ourselves living.Still, we had a very pleasant day out, brightened along the way by stumbling across a group of morris dancers having a little jig about next to the village green in Holt - how cool is that?! It's not everyday you're driving along and happen to glimpse such a "traditional" English scene - morris dancers, a village green, a flagpole with the Union Flag a-fluttering in the breeze. Hubby was v. excited as this was the first time he had ever seen morris dancers "in real life". Needless to say, we just had to park the car, unload Delightful Child, and spend some time wallowing in this rural idyll.And then, a little further along the road, it got even better when we drove through the 'blink-and-you'll miss-it' hamlet of... wait for it...

TIDDLEYWINK!!!!!

How cute; you've just got to love the English countryside, haven't you?! Which came first - the place or the game? Perhaps it's where the game was invented. But imagine living there. No one would believe you when they asked for your address! 'As if', they'd say. 'Is it anywhere near Toy Town?' 'Are Noddy and Big Ears your neighbours?' No doubt the novelty would wear off after a while.

What a Difference a Week Makes

Last weekend: We were in Scotland (above)
This weekend: We are in England

Last weekend: We were staying in a castle (above)
This weekend: We are staying at home (not above...)

Last weekend: It was hot and sunny, with ne'er a cloud in the sky - with a high temp of approx 82degrees farenheit (28celsius for those of you who are a bit more au fait with this new means of measuring the temperature)
This weekend: It's raining cats and dogs and is somewhat chilly (approx 17celsius)

Last weekend: We were Arthur-free for the first ever time, for two nights
This weekend: We are back with the little man, and loving it (look at those eyelashes - does it looks like I've been applying mascara to him?!)

Last weekend: We were at a wedding
This weekend: We are enjoying our very own wedded bliss, which consists of dusting and vacuuming in perfect harmony (I dust, he vacuums)

Last weekend: He was Best Man
This weekend: He's still the best man, in my opinion (ahh, aren't I soppy?)

Last weekend: The decorators had just started

This weekend: The decorators have nearly finished - paintwork is shiny and white, walls are crisp and clean; just our bedroom left to do

Last weekend: We owned two cars
This weekend: We still own two cars, it's just that one of them doesn't live with us anymore...

So, to precis, last weekend hubby and I were at Borthwick Castle, approx 12 miles south of Edinburgh, for Mark & Fiona's wedding where hubby was Best Man. We had a really lovely time and the weather was absolutely fantastic but, boy, that spiral staircase in the castle was a killer! We left Arthur in Wigan with his grandparents and had our first two nights without him. It felt a bit odd at first and every now and again across the weekend I would wish he was there for a cuddle, but all in all it was fine as we knew he was in very good hands! When we drove up to Wigan, hubby and I went in convoy as we were taking our old car, Pierre the Peugeot, to stay up there. We want to test out whether or not it's possible to survive with just one car and since the tax & MOT are up soon and we would also have to buy a parking permit for a second car, it was the sensible option to take Pierre to live off-road oop north for a time while we test the theory.

The Most Comfortable Place to Sleep

is definitely Mummy's shoulder; although once her arm goes dead, Mummy doesn't necessarily agree.

And the great thing is that I get to practice my pout at the same time.

Here Come the Girls

Ooo, what's that at the bottom of the garden?

Last night hubby went to pick up three new additions to the family - Audrey, Gail, and Sarah-luv. We've had chickens before - Rita and Mavis were the first two, who were then joined by Deirdre and Blanche. Blanche, however, made a swift exit once we had learnt she thought she was a cockerel and liked to practice making as much noise as possible early in the morning. We then had to re-home the other three when we went travelling last January; we were rather sad to see them go and were determined to get some more upon our return. However, living in a rented house, we weren't too sure of the etiquette of chicken-keeping so we decided to wait until we moved into the new place. And so, after 16 months of chicken-less-ness, here we are with three lovely little ladies of approx seven-weeks old. Hopefully they'll be laying yummy eggs in the next eight to ten weeks - fabalicious!

DDIY

Hubby and I have reached a stage (and age) in our lives where we believe that it is better for DIY to become DDIY, ie Don't Do It Yourself. Yes, we have indeed reached an age where we believe it is better to 'get someone in'. I'm not claiming that we were ever expert DIY-ers, but we (mainly hubby) were happy to have a go at painting, floor-sanding (a very bad idea), putting up shelves, and a few other jobs. However, gone are the days when we could afford the time and the energy to do any of these and so, this week, we are 'getting the decorators in' (and that's not a euphemism for any lady business). The only trouble with this is that we are under pressure to choose the colours we want in the hallway/stairs/landing, in Arthur's bedroom, in our bedroom and in the bathroom. If we were doing the job ourselves, we could take as long as we liked choosing colours, but because Lewis the Painter and Decorator is coming on Wednesday, we need to decide asap. I think if we were doing the painting ourselves, we might actually go for the safe option of magnolia all over but because we are getting it done professionally, it feels like we should choose 'proper' colours and make the most of paying to have it done. Does that sound silly?!

We are also having some wallpaper put up on the chimney breast in ours and Arthur's rooms. This has added to the problem, as we have to find paint that 'goes' with the paper.

Anyway, we think we have made a decision after just over a week of pondering. Hallway/stairs/landing plus Arthur's room and the bathroom are going to be 'Coastal Glow' by Dulux (seen here in the hallway, bottom right. And, yes, we know it's just a fancy name for cream and we might as well have stuck with magnolia...),and our room is to be Light Verdigris by Fired Earth (fancy name for green; see here below the wallpaper.)The chimney breast in our room will be papered in Antique Rose by Cath Kidston and in Arthur's room it's Circus Elephants, also by Cath Kidston (aren't we posh?!)

And one last thing: has anyone lost a small, Mediterranean-type baby as we appear to have found one in our back garden...

Funny how the flash has made Arthur look like he was born and bred in the local kebab shop; if he hadn't looked so much like hubby when he was first born we might wonder where he'd come from... Here's a photo without the flash just to show he's actually not quite that olive-skinned in 'real' life. Apologies for the blurriness, but I wanted you all to see that cheeky little grin.

Taxi!

Dreaming about future trips to New York; Arthur is fully aware that it is always a good idea to get a cab when carrying lots of shopping.

Bag Lady

On Thursday I took Arthur out for a walk to the Library and Waitrose in his Silver Cross coachbuilt pram. This pram is huge and very 'old school' - it's the sort of pram you see in newsreels from the 1950s where mothers made daily visits to the butcher, the greengrocer, the fishmonger and were able to leave their pram parked outside without the fear that pram (& baby) would be whisked away to be sold by unscrupulous types on Ebay. Needless to say, my visit to the Library and Waitrose did not involve me leaving my precious bundle outside. These days wheelchair ramps and automatic doors are my best friend. Several people commented to me on how lovely it was to see someone using a "proper" pram, but best of all were the people who I saw having a look at the pram and then peering over the top to check there was actually a baby inside and that I wasn't one of those slightly deranged ladies who likes to push her worldy goods round with her wherever she goes...

You'd think the box of Persil in the shopping basket under the pram would have gone some way to proving that I'm not a bag lady.

Make Mine a Pint

Daddy showing Arthur how to drink beer and burp.

Cuterer and cuterer

Even if I do say so myself...

Arthur is now 7-and-a-half weeks old. Where has that time gone? He's already sleeping in his own room because he has got to be one of the noisiest sleepers ever - grunting, groaning, moaning - you name it, he does it in his sleep. When he was sharing our room in his little moses basket, hubby and I were leaping out of bed at almost every noise wondering what on earth could be the matter with this poor baby who was shouting out, only for us to find that his eyes were tight shut and he was sound asleep, unlike us. So last Monday we (well, hubby really as I didn't want to be parted from my little boy... what a sopster I have become) decided to pop him in his nursery and see what happened. Success - we sleep better and so does he. In fact, since then he has twice slept through from 10pm until 5am. Bliss!

So, what else do I have to tell you? Pretty much nothing that isn't baby-related I'm afraid. It's all about Arthur these days you know. Since I last blogged (ages ago, I know, but there just aren't enough hours in the day anymore) we've been to Bristol again and Wigan again to see the rellies; we've managed to unpack all of the 85 boxes we moved with, although the contents of said boxes aren't necessarily where we want them to be, in fact most of them are exaclty where we don't want them to be. Other than that, I just can't think of anything to write. I've totally lost my blogging inspiration at the moment, for which I apologise!