Goodbye!

I am completely and utterly exhausted, every cell in my body feels done in and my mind is heavy with emotion. We left Sussex last night after A and P's school play. There was a tsunami of tears, great torrents of kindness and even a song to wish us well in our Mallorcan life.

It was unbelievably overwhelming.

And as I sit here waiting to get on the flight to Palma, having re packed our bags and bought another one to accommodate our gifts...it is time to say Goodbye to Sussex Mama.

Thank you so much for reading and being a tiny bit interested in what I get up to. I hope you meet me on the other side to watch the Mediterranean journey unfold.

Mallorca Mama is up and running and will be added to as life unfurls and grows - in hopefully the most interesting way.

Best. Day. Ever.

There is nothing better than an inset day. It's a freebie, like winning the lottery or a 2 for 1 offer in the supermarket. Except when the sun shines and there are ponies, gerbils and kittens - then it's a through-the-roof brilliant day. We even had cheese straws which in my kids eyes counts as the Best. Day. Ever.

Nearly there

I'm holding it together, raising a smile now and then. We went for the complete Christmas-dinner-in-a-packet from Marks and Spencer and the experience was OK, not too hectic and just the right amount for the six of us.

The packet chocolate log is purchased, the packet mince pies abound, there are kindling and logs even though it is 14C outside and presents all wrapped. The tree is slightly mental, adorned with an increasing number of decorations. The kids are happy, even though the tooth fairy hasn't come for 2 nights in a row....I guess the fairies are busy helping Santa's elves?

I'm just not keen on the excess. The gross excess when the world around us is falling apart. And every year I say I won't fall into the trap of buying a huge amount of stuff, and every year I do - pressured into being perfect.

I feel it's like not being able to see straight for a month, it's the hugest hurdle to end the year, the last fence to be cleared and finally the finishing post is in view. Ready to start again as 2016 promises new beginnings.

Merry Christmas to you all, wishing you peace and light. And ponies.

Shall I?

"Getting ready for Christmas?" the nice hairdresser lady asked.

"Yup, nearly done," I replied "Just the food now." And moaned about all that cooking.

The hairdresser looked around to make sure no one was listening and almost whispered:

"We get ours from Marks and Spencer, the whole lot, roast potatoes, gravy and everything - you order it on line, pick it up and bung it in the oven - easy!"

"But I don't tell many people because it's embarrassing!" she continued.

We talked about how much easier it was for her mum, and how she wished her mum had got a Marks and Spencer dinner years ago so she could have spent the day with the children and not in the kitchen.

So yes, I am going to do it. A packet Christmas dinner for us this year.

Mallorca

It was a cheeky last minute trip to see my bezzie and her husband, to be introduced to the next part of their journey. Arriving in Spain I am always engulfed with a sense of overwhelming familiarity and longing - the language, the foods and the waft of cigarettes in the warm air. I always feel I can breathe a sigh of relief when I am with Spain again, a long lost friend, a second home.

Mallorca surprised me with its ease, its clean streets and fancy plazas. The port with its abundance of super-yachts being repaired during the winter, the palm trees lining the streets and the impressive cathedral of Palma all gave off a sense of wealth, pride and international flavour.

My bezzie lives in the campo, the countryside, surrounded by derelict farms and prickly pears. The lambs would bleat in the neighbouring fields, November being a perfectly reasonable time to be born. The geraniums still flowered, the horses wore no rugs and the kids even had a quick swim in the pool. It felt serene as we rode over the land, reins in one hand and talking idly about the last few months.

We walked the beaches devoid of tourists, running with the dog in the freshest of winds as kite surfers impressed us with their swoops in the air and jumps out of the waves.

And as well as the laughter, the partying, the wonderfully cheap-red-wine-by-the-5-litre-container and the paella which made us gasp at its prettiness - we felt like this could be home. The children revelled in trying their Spanish, they joyfully pulled the heads off the langostines and dug out the mussells from their shells, they ran barefoot with a dog and played with kittens, they tried the cheeses and meats at the market. They said they could live here too. 

As long as our cats could come to Mallorca as well.

Back to basics

We arrived in a village called Rasca, with two large rucksacks - a hangover from student days when back packing was the only way to get about. They were full of medicines, underwear, just-in-case dresses, three books perchance I should suddenly increase my reading speed, clothes for all weathers, sun creams, wires and gadgets. The children had two mini rucksacks full of things to do, pens and the like - all ready for our great Romanian donkey trek.

I thought I had packed light but after deciding that two donkeys between eight people was more than adequate, we halved our loads. And then realising that most of the space in the donkeys panniers would be needed for food and water - I halved it again.

Eight people's stuff for 9 days

We took two pairs of pants each, two pairs of walking socks, a couple of tee shirts, one pair of shorts, a long sleeved top and absolutely nothing to play with. We travelled lighter than I ever had before and washed our pants in the shower nightly, we washed our socks and didn't bother with the shorts and tee shirts. It was liberating and I felt completely free.

We survived on very little and managed. The children played in puddles and ponds, ran in grass meadows and made nature art, they went to bed early with stories from our imaginations. Everything felt just a little bit more alive - magical almost.

To come home and see all the unnecessary clutter in the house has caused manic clearance and recycling. Just owning what you need gives the mind so much space - I intend to halve our possessions - and then halve them again. And if I'm feeling really brave, halve them just once more.

The epic Romanian donkey trek

The searing sun would find its way through the intricate lace curtains of our hosts family home, waking us all. Time to get up, put fresh pants and walking socks on, heavy boots and nine-day-old shorts. I would sort the donkeys, putting a concoction of potions around their eyes to keep the flies and other insects away - my soft Englishness taking great care with this process, using all our own repellents to help the donkeys face the day. Breakfast would be one of cold meats of unidentifiable origin, lumps of pork fat, white cheeses and jams made from the prolific bilberries and raspberries which grew wild in the countryside. We would smile and joke with our hosts, not a word of language between us, saying our goodbyes as the Romanian mamas hugged the children to their aprons and great maternal bosoms.

A day of walking with donkeys. Through pine forests and open plains, up hills and around mountains, across grazing land ferociously protected by mountain dogs, over streams and past ponds, down deep riveted sheep tracks and stoically along brand new EU funded roads.

We kept walking, with donkeys carrying our needs, their loads lightening as we drank the litres of water necessary to combat the 35 degree heat. The children were incredible in their resilience, playing word games, marvelling at insects and fire-bellied toads, taking it in turn to lead the donkeys and never complaining. Sharing precious Haribo sweets brought from home, one at a time knowing the sugariness had to last until the next break, until we finally arrived at our new family for the night.

It was difficult, it felt heroic, the walks were up to 20km a day, the heat was almost unbearable, the maps were wrong, the instructions a disaster, it felt like the last great adventure to be had on this earth and we all accomplished it together. Flopping down with weariness each night, smiling and remembering the days gems, bellies full of fried meats and gherkins - the satisfaction provided us all with a calm so rarely found in our culture.

I could have just kept walking, forever.

Fringe benefits

She had been asking for weeks. Can I get a fringe? She had been practising in the mirror, making a fringe out of her pony tail, staring at herself coquettishly, this way and that - deciding that a fringe would suit her very well indeed.

It changed her face entirely, her mannerisms and the view of herself. My baby girl is growing up.

Start of the holidays

A beautiful evening and the beach beckoned. Lets run to the sea when school is out. Six glorious weeks starting with paddling, rock finding, fish n chips and a strong glass of Pimms. The kids squealed, the parents sighed with relief and apprehension, the seagulls circled hoping for a something fried and I revelled in the now.

It's the best time of the year.

Cherries and chips

I cannot wait for the end of term.

It's been a whirlwind of sports day, the school performance, last assembly and leavers assembly (I missed both), open afternoon, school trips, school fundraisers, cake sale after bloody cake sale, school reports and a good old dose of the nits.

We squoze P's birthday in to all the chaos. An afternoon of cherry picking with friends amongst the idyllic Sussex countryside, followed by a pub meal and beers for us lot. It was a glorious summer evening, the kids sweaty with play and filth, and hyper with E-numbers and over stimulation. P enjoyed her day, her cake and presents. I allowed myself a brief look back at her entrance to the world, remembering the good bits and the funny bits - choosing to ignore the carnage.

Lovely little P, a big grown up seven year old now. Knowing your own mind and telling us how it is. I can't wait to have you back for six long, fun-filled, fabulous weeks when we can get to know each other again. A time when we can both realign ourselves with no rules restricting our discoveries.

I cannot wait for the end of term.

Inset day

We love an inset day, an 'insect day' P used to call them. A completely free day off, thank you very much - and at least I was prepared for it this time - I missed the last one entirely as I had booked work in all day, missing the chance to be with my kids and have adventures. But this one we were all looking forward to, a three day weekend, the start of summer, a taster of the six glorious weeks and it didn't disappoint.

We played with ponies, we ran about the fields, we had lunch in a local garden centre and played on the swing and slide, we caught up with long lost local friends, we bought a plant, we washed Freddie and ran about the forest.

And exhausted by the wondrousness of it all - we stopped off in Londis for some crap crisps. The perfect end to a perfectly free day, three packets of crisps for 70p - Space Raiders and Transformers, the most satisfying snack on the planet.

Lunch among the foxgloves and emerging alliums

Jack in the Green

May Day celebrations in Hastings are like no other, the town fills with thousands of people to see in the spirit of summer. Hordes of motorbikes power down the A21 to converge on the sea front, revving over-sized machines, loud and irritating as bikers stride full of swagger, leather and a healthy dose of tattoo's, eating chips and talking petrol no doubt. All ages, sexes and sizes, converging because of a passion - I get that.

The more gentle side of Hastings May day is the releasing of Jack, a parade and drumming of the most beautifully decorated people, full of green leaves and real ale. It's the closest to religion I feel, celebrating the seasons with dancing, horn blowing and booze.

The atmosphere was one of community and fun and we will definitely return next year, with an ivy leaf garland and perhaps some pheasant feathers. Welcome summer! The spirit has been released - but perhaps a little winter still remains, maybe Jack wasn't fully slain as the wind howls, the rain lashes and we all pull our coats a little tighter around us.

Greece

I filled up a little with tears in the supermarket, putting the olives, the feta and the interestingly-flavoured packets of crisps into my fiftieth plastic bag - it all felt so familiar here in Greece, so warm and fuzzy, so many happy memories of Corfu and a previous life.

"Yasass, efcharisto!" I blurted out two of my very few Greek words.

We stayed in Methoni which is on the mainland, a far cry from the resorts and island life. It was empty of people as I had predicted but full of glorious wild spring flowers, full of bright blue skies and a sea the most vivid turquoise, it had castles on every corner, crumbling and free to the visitor. The villages were sleepy, thinking about waking up for the tourist season, skinny cats crouched behind the bins hoping for some tit-bits, any food at all. They snoozed in the spring sunshine. Older women screamed in their language, all high pitched and shouty, like little boxes dressed all in black with a hair-do, fluffy and large. The men rested their stomachs between their legs on wicker based chairs, leaning into their walking sticks, smoking cigarettes and talking over coffee, after coffee. Their moustaches and flat caps gave their nationality away.

We wandered through the olive groves marvelling at the colours, wild orchids, bright pinks and delicate mauves, we picked up stray dogs along our way and passed fields of pastel beehives. We found churches so tiny and perfectly kept, with no more than six chairs for the congregation. And passed farms of sheep and goats, protected by fierce and hungry looking dogs on chains.

The beaches were deserted of people, the temperature too cold to swim but just perfect in a sheltered spot on the dunes. Bamboo had been washed up in piles along the shore line, a natural Lego, so that shelters and rafts could be made.

The food is the best in Europe. The pinkest and saltiest of tarama's to start, wiped clean with crusty, soft bread. Shiny olives hand picked from the groves, all purple and plump, the salad with its crumbly feta, against the green-yellow of the oil - drizzled liberally adding years to our life. Fresh fish simply grilled, sprinkled with oregano from the hills and garnished with tomatoes as big as your fist. It was difficult to find a restaurant open but when we did we felt we need not eat for a week.

Greece in spring is a delight, a well-kept secret before the searing heat and sun-worshippers. I will be back, to explore another corner of its land, perhaps just a week or two later in the year when the fireflies begin to dance and the tortoises wake up from their long winter sleep.

A week of ups and downs

I learnt two things this week;

1. You only have your health
2. Never predict how its going to be, ride like you're going to win

It took three weeks to fully recover from this cold/virus/sinus and searing headache thing. Poor A had 7 days off school and 7 loads of drugs to clear her severe chest infection. Even hard-nut P had a day off for an earache. My wisdom tooth reached ridiculous levels of pain and after three and a half hours in the dentist chair the grotty, rotten tooth was out, leaving me dribbling and relieved - I could now get on with my life.

Fletch, the great big orange pony I am lucky enough to ride, has changed his behaviour from 'Winter Fletch' - a lunatic on speed - to 'Summer Fletch' - a much more chilled out horse, with only the odd flip-a-dee-doo-dah to keep me concentrating. He surpassed himself this week enabling me to learn and took me to victory twice, even in gale force winds with the rain lashing sideways soaking us both to the skin, literally.

And with all the pain of the tooth and the adrenaline of show jumping and dressage competitions, I haven't had time to think about Greece. A spring break wandering through ruins, eating olives and sitting on deserted beaches before the hordes arrive. We are off to seek solace in some silence, a break from the everyday to be ready to tackle it all head on when we return.

The ginja-ninja on fire - you can achieve the moon when your tooth doesn't hurt

Ladybird books

                          

Just look at these book covers - how do they make you feel?

I was transported back to very early childhood and learning to read, and to a time which I had thought I had forgotton. So nostalgic and so very calming, back to a time of endless summer and looking for crickets. To my five year old self whose memories of are very sketchy and have almost completely disappeared.

Ladybird by Design is a beautiful exhibition currently running at the De La Warr Pavillion in Bexhill-on-Sea.

The children loved it. A loved the book 'Shopping with Mother', P loved seeing the 'old-fashioned books', my friend and I loved naming the ones we had owned, the ones we remembered and the ones our sisters coveted. It was a completely delightful afternoon. I might just have to go back.

For one hundred years, Ladybird books have delighted children, their parents, grandparents and teachers alike, taking readers on a journey of discovery and enlightenment. Affordable and accessible, Ladybird books hold a significant and affectionate place in the collective psyche of the nation, conjuring up, through written word and illustration, life in Britain in more innocent times.

Poor me

If dry January wasn't bad enough (I'm not doing that again), I have now been prescribed two lots of antibiotics for an infected wisdom tooth. So that's no booze for another five days, and over a weekend too. An x-ray of the tooth showed decay, I could have told the dentist that but I kept quiet willing the hole to close up, which means I have to go to hospital to have it taken out. Shite, pants, bollocks - I've never been to hospital, other than to have a couple of kids, or had a general anaesthetic. It's just the kind of news to cheer you up in the worst month of all. Oh February you beast of a month you.

So here is a list of 10 things I am looking forward to this month now I have the moaning out of the way:

1.  Taking Fletch, the ginger ninja, to an indoor cross country event tomorrow
2.  A's 9th birthday
3.  Starting a new antenatal course - I love meeting new parents-to-be
4.  Seeing my Mum the week after next in Somerset
5.  Flying to Cornwall to a friends 50th party. Decadence.
6.  Trying clay pigeon shooting for the first time
7.  Treating my sister to a lovely birthday weekend
8.  Some real snow
9.  The riding club AGM
10. Being with my children over half term

Happy February everyone!

Christmas 2014

It was OK in the end, I guess it always is, it's just the run up I can't abide - all that shopping, spending and talk of a perfect Christmas. 

Christmas started with Olympia Horse Show, the best part of the festive season for me. An excuse to watch horses all afternoon, shop for jodhpurs, souvenir rosettes and 'oooooh and aaaaahhh' at the size of the jumps with a friend who gets the addiction. The kids sat transfixed at the Ukrainian Cossacks crazy gymnastic riding, the police horses jumping through fire, a Shetland grand national, the dog agility display and the famous riders show jumping the biggest fences. And then Father Christmas made a brief appearance, it was definitely the real one we all decided, with some snow, a carol and lots of kids on ponies galloping around the arena. It was completely brilliant!

I wrapped the presents in one hit with red wine, he helped enormously. We decided not to faff with appetisers and nibbles and instead opened a packet of cheesy balls which went down a treat. The bread sauce came from a packet, and although it was pretty disgusting we had all the right components of the feast. No off-piste cooking this year, a straight-down-the-line-middle-of-the-road-turkey dinner with the trimmings. Demolished in seconds I'm glad I didn't spend any longer on it than I did.

Instead I had time to watch Peter Pan, drink too much wine, play games, open mountains of gifts with the kids and clear up the inevitable Christmas day puke. 

Christmas 2014 ended, and is still ending with the bug. It just wouldn't be the same without it.

Friday, at long last

Thank Crunchie, and a whole lot of other things, it's Friday. I have emotional, stressed out, heaps of snotty nosed kids who are counting down the days. But after the school pick up today we can all just pile into our jammies and get cosy, put a film on, light a fire, drop our shoulders, relax our tight, wound up jaws and maybe even smile.

P's tantrums are reminiscent of a toddlers. A's outbursts are a look into the future of things to come - we have definitely hit the tween years.

I am trying so hard to be Zen about Christmas this year, I almost missed it last year for all the sadness and stress. So we really are going to take one day at a time and slowly get ready - I'm not going to try to pack everything in and make it perfect.

Just one day at a time, it will all get done. That's my mantra. It will get done.

Barcelona

We'll be in Barcelona tonight, sitting on a boat to nowhere, drinking a cold San Miguel watching the twinkling lights of the seafood restaurants and trying to imagine we live there. I booked the flights straight after India, a nice, cheap sleazy-jet style flight with only one piece of hold luggage paid for, for all four of us. And now Barcelona is upon us, we are wondering slightly why we are going.

Yes it will be lovely to have a break from the everyday, a change, some last-minute sunshine and a little tapas. The real reason I booked the journey on a whim, was straight after travelling to India the UK seemed so dull and uninteresting. We thought we might like to live in Spain again. Let's go to Barcelona to see if we could live there we thought.

And now we are going the kids are crazy-wild with excitement. They know what to pack in their hand luggage - Flumpy and Sizzles, colouring, their travel journals, sunglasses and a Kagool - all eventualities covered. They are talking about which magazine they would like at the airport and discussing which fish they will eat at the seaside cafes.

I guess it doesn't matter why we are going, it will be a mini-adventure. Five much needed days for him. A time for our little family to bond completely again - all on the same path and discovering together. Travel unites us.

Pippin the pigeon

In the unnatural storms of this week, a little pigeon lost her way. She was found under our car sheltering from the rain which beat down relentlessly, threatening our imminent camping trip. We know she is young because the tag around her leg said so, the Internet helped us decipher that she was born this year and that she was all the way from Dalkeith in Scotland. She was very wet and bedraggled, A said she was must be feeling 'under the weather' which we all giggled at. We gave her some bird seed, and not bread, which she immediately pecked at - probably starving from her journey. We then gave her a little blanket, a pot of water and let her rest. She is still with us now, in the utility in the cat carrier. The fatty catties are unbothered by our new feathered friend, seemingly more concerned with catching the many zeds now that winter is nearly upon us.

We have called her Pippin. I keep checking to see if she is OK, we are waiting for her owners to get in touch to advise us what we should do next. She is now dry, perkier and hopefully with a full belly and a good few nights sleep she can begin her journey home again. Or if she decides to stay with us, she would be very welcome indeed.