the adlards

So, here we are on a Thuesday wondering how we could possibly have nearly boughth a place in Criccieth lasth year. Don’t misundersthand me, I enjoy lying on a hoth sthony beach as much as the nexth person – the combination hoth-sthone massage and sun-baking is utherly sopowific which is a plus in my book. The thing is, everyone there is either eighthy or foreign or both; there are noth very many of them and the thopless foreigners do noth outhweigh the influence of the octhogenarians. No doubth Criccieth will be pulled into the age of the Welsh Riviera in the nexth decade; while there’s a greath investment opporthunity there I am glad that we won’t be doing any of the pulling after all.

Perhaps we just didn’t see it in a steady onshore wind last year … it is in a lovely position overlooked by a ruined castle, and when the wind’s not blowing it is spectacularly beautiful. When the wind is blowing you can’t even sail.

There’s one of those bloody spy pigeons outside. It’s just sat there on the phone line gazing in through the window at us for half an hour without moving. In the rain. If it’s gathering intelligence it’s got a long way to go. I hope it hasn’t been employed by the Criccieth Chamber of Commerce.

I have been prevailed upon to extend my title of Most Excellent Grand Champion Getter Outer of Winds to include the getting out of farts. I’m battling to think of a snappy name. It occured to me during a particularly intensive session today that if there’s wind at the top end, chances are there’s wind at the bottom too. I tried some experimental pumps of the little legs and knew I was onto something by the quality of sphincter whistling which ensued. Heather thought Sophie was humming …

A front came over late this afternoon. The weather’s still very warm and sticky, but I think the hot snap is over. We barbequed comfortably between downpours. Josie had great fun around the fire with her pair of tongs: “crocodile snap!” We managed to keep her out of the flames, with shaves no closer than sneaking a few chunks of charcoal out of the bag and onto the fire.

I might quite possibly have had the worst shower of my life today. After sailing I had so much salt in my hair that running my hands through it completely obscured my vision with a cloud of minute particles exhibiting classic Brownian motion. I dashed for the shower, pausing only to draw a bath for Josie, wash down my kit, read Josie her bedtime stories (2) and give her a reasonable period to settle down. By this stage my shorts were so stiff (with salt) that I had to shuffle along to avoid chaffing.

The shower was strong and hot, the two most fundamental requirements, but I’d forgotten my shower products. There was an innocuous-looking bar of soap that I proceeded to wash with. I immediately noticed that my hair had gone squeaky and seemed to be sticking to my hands like spiders’ web. I decided my best course of action was to leap out of the shower and pillage some conditioner from the collection others have left in the house. The only conditioner I could find was a violent blue tea tree concoction, so that’s what I used.

When I finally got out of the shower and had dried myself it was clear that my skin was in very much the same condition my hair had been. I searched for body lotion. All I could find was a rather exotic mango and peach mix, which I sniffed suspiciously and tried on my hands before applying liberally all over my body. Now I didn’t know it, but apparently it is in the nature of these things to:

1. Smell alright in the bottle, but once applied to gradually increase in strength until the assault on your sinuses is such that the only way to escape with your sanity intact is to admit defeat and get back into the shower, or to tie a cloth around your nose and mouth in an attempt to filter out the smell. I tried the latter. It doesn’t work very well.
2. Not hurt your hands when you test them, but burn the hell out of your face if, in a burst of enthusiasm, you decide to moisturise where previously only shaving balm has been allowed to go. As the burning sensation around my nose and mouth grew I knew I had to wash the stuff off my face, so reached for a bottle of baby wash (on the basis it must be gentle). It was gentle, but was also strongly orange scented, leaving me smelling like a fruit salad on steroids, even through my face-cloth.

Heather tells me there was a moisturising soap up there I could have used. She’s put it in the shower for me so that I won’t miss it next time. I’m sure when I wake up in the morning the conditioner will have turned my hair green.

Josie had her first sail very early this morning in about 2mph winds, which meant she could have a go steering as we weren’t going anywhere fast. She enjoyed looking at the seaweed and birds and boats. Found it a little frustrating that it took more than 30 seconds to get back to Nan on the beach when she asked.

We took the Laser out quite far and sailed back through the moorings so Jo could have a good look at the “big boats”. We found a limitation of the lifejacket is that it can be awkward to get your arm around the neck roll with enough reach to suck your thumb. If the wind stays light I’m sure she’ll come out again. Some pics in the gallery.

… update … the wind came up in the afternoon so Jo couldn’t go out again. Dad went out, though, and had a cracking sail. Had to work so hard he won’t be able to move in the morning.
“Josie, did you go sailing with dad this morning”
“Yes”
“And was it fun?”
“Yes. Zoom! Zoom!” (a la boats in the Snail and the Whale)
“And what did you see?”
“Kitty cat.”
“Really?! Wow!”
Conversation peters out …

My oldest friend, Tim, previously mentioned in connection with the excellent advice he gave in relation to the “Monsters in the Bathroom” problem has apparently always wanted to put himself through his paces in a powerful coupe. He promised me pictures of his tussle with an M3, and they’ve arrived, reproduced above. When he’s not seeking his adrenalin hits this directly, Tim is a well-respected performance psychologist. You can Google him here.

We bought Josie a dinky little lifejacket today (very cute, very effective) and dragged the Laser down to the beach. I think this is the first of my Abersoch holidays when it hasn’t taken me three days to work up the energy to do that (or anything else). I’m obviously not burning out … good thing. If the wind’s not howling tomorrow I’m going to take Josie for her first sail. Look for the photos of Mum nervously waiting on shore (the camera’s not waterproof).

Have added a couple of beach pics from today to the gallery, no lifejacket ones (although we tested it thoroughly), you’ll have to wait until we actually sail for those.

Sophie is growing unbelievably fast. She looked substantially different on my return from the Away Day, after just two days away. When next I go away on business I shall have to make a discrete mark somewhere on her with a felt tip pen so that I can be sure it’s really her when I return. One hears stories about goldfish …

I am the unequivocal champion of getting-winds-out-of-baby. I’m sure I am. Well, it’s between mum-in-law and me for sure … OK tonight I am, and she’s sleeping so I think I will too.

Jo and I were on the beach at about 6.30 so that the others could have a little more sleep. As soon as Nan was up it was out with the water pistol and after her. It’s a beautiful day after yesterday’s rain.
Pics in the gallery.

Josie and Heather looking at a stream in a verdant Welsh landscape. So verdant it seems to have turned my camera green.

Pete and Ros came to say goodbye this morning before we left for Wales. They head back to South Africa next weekend to take up appointments in East London (where, as anyone who’s anyone knows, all roads lead). It’s been wonderful to have them around these last six months. Pics in the gallery. It’s good to have your wife drive occasionally.

The trip to Abersoch with an infant and toddler was relatively painless – just eight hours or so. Sophie finds the car soporific, a trait Josie certainly doesn’t exhibit. I suppose we should have expected that, given that Michelle’s contractions stopped every time we got into the car to go to hospital to have Sophie. We only had one traffic policeman pointing a radar gun at us in North Wales and were presumably travelling close enough to the speed limit at that point to escape unscathed.

On arrival, Josie began to discover the joy that water pistols bring. For a while she could only trigger the pistol she’d found with her thumbs. Much hilarity as she chased Nan around the garden thoroughly drenching her own face. Then she figured out the classic double-forefinger trigger action and the rest is history. I didn’t dare take the camera anywhere near or I would publish pics of the resultant carnage for your general edification.

Today was wet and rainy, which was a relief after the heat and a pleasure to drive in. Apparently the heat begins again from tomorrow – absolutely perfect. We’re going to have fun.

That’s Adam doing his thing on the bass in the work band – fast becoming an institution, and a very good one at that. Grainy phone picture with no light …

I have, as threatened, skipped lunch to retire to my spot under the tree.

The Wotton House hotel in Dorking, Surrey should invest in air conditioning for their rooms. I might have got some sleep. Perhaps I should have taken the advice I was given earlier when it was brought to my attention that with small children at home I could drink until 3 and then retire to a “normal” night’s sleep. I probably would have slept better. As it was I opted for quantity rather than quality and achieved neither.

It seems the situation back home was no better, with Josie needing cold baths, cloths and water before eventually falling asleep at about midnight. It is exceptionally warm. Thunderstorms at Glastonbury apparently.

I’m just too tired for this. Going to have a kip under my tree.

So here I am under my tree (on the sunny side) feeling slightly guilty for not being more sociable. I had an anarchic game of rounders, thereby exhausting my team games capability … the niceties of cricket, football and jenga are all well beyond me.

Saunas should have a better view (no offence meant to anyone I’ve shared a sauna with). Lying here I get all the same benefits but have a view over a country house to several acres of forest and a clear blue sky that my shades turn slightly gold. Better than a slatted pine wall any day. Well, not on many days in this country actually.

Time to go and have a shower I think.

Summer’s brilliant. I had a very pleasant drink with an old (in the sense of former) colleague after work. I’ll link to her blog if she’ll let me have the address. Anyway I got home after 9 in what would pass as broad daylight at any other time of year and am eating my dinner in the 10pm dusk while blogging on my phone. I promised Michelle I wouldn’t fire up my computer tonight 😀

The downside is that it’s too hot to sleep. It is also, unfortunately, far too hot for those alternate pursuits that spring first to mind. Never mind, we’re well on our way toward winter now, having spent the solstice in Heathrow airport bloody terminal one.

Tomorrow the Away Day begins. I’m trialing a 3g card so hopefully won’t need to resort to hotel “broadband” to keep blogging. That’s all I can find to say about the Away Day in my current stubbornly positive frame of mind.

The rest of the family, with Heather, had a wonderful day – or so I gather from the snippets I could glean. Going out for drinks at the moment means you lose out on knowing. Maybe it always means that.

My wireless access point downstairs keeps dropping its signal. This is what the manual had to say, by way of ‘help’:
“If you are using 2.4GHz cordless phones, X-10 equipment or other home security systems, ceiling fans, and lights, your wireless connection will degrade dramatically or drop altogether.”

So that’s the problem. I live in a house with electricity.

Heather, aka ‘Mum’, ‘Nanny’, ‘the Scourge of the South’ arrived today. She’s amazing. After a 12 hour flight and at least an hour waiting for baggage in Terminal 1 (rant on the side: if you can avoid T1 do – the handlers regularly overload the belts and just dump all the bags in a mountainous pile that there’s no way you can sort through if you’re remotely jetlagged. As I was saying …) she spent the entire day entertaining Josie, with trips to the park and lots of running about. When I met her this morning at the airport she looked like a thundercloud after the baggage experience. When I got home tonight she was bathing Josie and holding an animated conversation with her. She must be absolutely knackered tonight.

I’m sure she’d imagined herself as a Gran sitting quietly on a sofa with little grandkids quietly playing about her ankles.

Mothers-in-law are great (well, I can only speak for mine).