Holidays

Even gargoyles get political

As the nation prepares to express its views on the finest politicians we can muster, here are some candid opinions from the gargoyles at York Minster.

Stone masons at the minster are carving the gargoyles as part of restoration work on the building. Each has a distinct character. The two above are untitled, but need no introduction. Below left: Toothache. This guy would have taken an interest in NHS spending cuts.

Below right, a line-up of early English kings. I wonder how they would have voted. They look like Cameronites.

Posted 04 May 2010 22:28 | Number of comments: 1 | Comments

Daughters Fun Holidays Husband

Tepee or not Tepee

It wasn't until we were sat on the lawn underneath one of the rowan trees at Kiltyrie Farmhouse, by the shores of Loch Tay, that I had a chance to think about the twists and turns that led us there. We were meant to be staying up the road in a wooden tepee ('hut', in the words of one of my more candid friends). We dithered: some evenings we were all set for tepee adventure, others, not so much. About three days before the scheduled weekend, I rang to see if we could still cancel. No, we were too late for an automatic refund, if they managed to re-sell the hut/tepee we could have our money back. I asked them to do their utmost to find a taker, then rang back on Friday afternoon, rain beating at the windows; no-one else was interested in the 'Ben Nevis'.

The next day, less than half a mile from home, by now bathed in sunshine, these guys were playing on the radio. "Just phone and check they still have the tepee for us, would you? Just to be absolutely sure," I said. Va-vay rang, asked and went quiet. "Okay. Yes, yes, no, absolutely you did the right thing."

"They've sold it? The tepee?"

"I'm afraid so," said Va-vay.

"They hadn't sold it when I rang yesterday afternoon."

"Well, they have now."

"What shall we do?"

"Let me phone tourist information in Killin."

At Kiltyrie Farmhouse, the owner, Jane, served us tea and home-made lemon cake on the lawn. Walking books lined the sitting room. There was a noticeable - and, lest you are unfamiliar with my taste, welcome - absence of chintz. Beanie enjoyed making the acquaintance of the chickens who lived in their Eglu ('Look, Mummy, they've got a wee house'). The next day we breakfasted off their eggs. We played tag around the apple trees, which were dropping their fruit, admired Jane's vegetable garden, where she grows leeks, parsnips and potatos, scrambled up the hill behind the house, climbed until we could see the loch spread out far below us. Rowan berries glinted red in the autumn sunshine.

It was then I remembered a piece of Scots folklore; ancient Highlanders revered rowans for their mystical powers; druids made their staffs from rowan wood; witches used the branches for dowsing and charms. Many Scots, even today, still wish on rowan wood and use it as a talisman for protection. And I knew what it was that drew us here.

Posted 23 September 2009 19:14 | Number of comments: 3 | Comments

Activities Dilemmas Fun Holidays

Manna

None of us were expecting to find one of Beanie's snacks growing on the slopes of Ben Lawers. You can miss a lot, not knowing where to look. We discovered that when we spent this weekend in Perthshire, (staying at the wonderful Kiltyrie Farmhouse), and tackled one of Scotland's highest mountains.

Fourteen shimmering miles of loch lay far below us in the valley. The sun had broken through low cloud cover, rain was holding off and we could hear rushing water in the brook that gave Ben Lawers its name; (in Gaelic, Beinn Labhair means Hill of the Loud Stream). We loaded Button (aged one) into a carrier on her father's back, strapped on our walking boots and set off up the path towards the summit of the 1,200-metre massif.

Only a mile into the walk I could feel my pelvis begin to ache. Struggling for breath, I stopped walking, sat down with a thud on the path verge, pulled out my water bottle and began to gulp at it.

"Do you know what these are?" said my husband, pointing to a shrub by the path. The shrub in question had small, boat-shaped leaves, and a speckled look. It was growing so close to the ground, it was almost indistinguishable from the heather, saxifrage, and other plants growing nearby. In many years of hillwalking, I'd never even noticed this plant before. Had we stopped further up the mountain, we would have missed it altogether.

I think I would climb a mountain any day, dodgy pelvis or not, for the pleasure of watching Beanie's joy at picking fruit on a hillside, seeing blueberry juice stain her face purple, knowing she will understand that good things do not always come pre-packaged from supermarkets. Sometimes, in fact, they're right there next to us, waiting for us to notice them, even if we need someone else to point them out.

Posted 16 September 2009 19:46 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Beanie Button Fun Holidays Out and about

Keycamp holiday

We had a happy time at the La Yole site in France's Vendée region. Many happy memories to treasure from our time there. Here are some of the highlights:

1. Time to bond as a family of four. The holiday helped us mesh together.

2. Getting a sun tan.

3. Eating our evening meals out on the decking outside our mobile home after younger daughter Button went to bed.

4. Taking Beanie to the pool, wearing her Scottish Swimmer badges, and watching her make friends with other little girls at the site.

5. Splashing about in the sea, on a near-deserted beach.

6. The smell of pine resin from the many conifers dotted about the site and countryside.

7. Cycling along the region's network of dedicated cycle paths, one of us towing the Hoppelopnikon (pictured).

8. Taking Button to the swimming pool for her first swim.

9. Feeling the habitual tension in my shoulders recede.

10. Being outdoors so much.

11. The opportunity to show my daughters France - scene of all my best holidays, where I met my husband and where he later proposed to me.

12. Eating take-away chips from the on-site cafe.

13. Being away from the internet.

14. Realising family holidays can be good fun, even if we don't get to walk up mountains anymore.

15. Playing table tennis again - for the first time in many years.

16. Having a good play park on site with lots of space. Beanie loved it there. There were free Tumbletots activities too but we didn't manage to sample them.

17. A Tumbletots party one evening in the bar that got all the younger kids - and me - dancing. I felt like a kid myself again. Button loved it too. It was a happy, happy evening. Superb!

18. Getting fit from the cycling, swimming and walking. Effect somewhat mitigated by the many ice creams consumed.

19. Little-known advantage of living in a mobile home: less space to clean and tidy than at home.

20. Meeting other families with kids the same age as ours.

21. Seeing the Atlantic coast of France - a first for me.

22. Remembering what it's like to have fun again!

23. Messing about in our mobile home with Beanie, singing and dancing.

The downsides of going abroad at the moment are well-known. I was horrified at the cost of food after the pound's collapse against the euro - France is no longer cheap if you earn in pounds - and we couldn't afford to eat out much because of that.

If you decide on a holiday of this kind, it is also certainly worth choosing your site carefully. It might be worth going for one of the smaller sites, like La Yole, which has slightly fewer facilities than some other places, but more than made up for that by the relaxed and friendly atmosphere and the professionalism of the owners. It felt well-run and thoughtfully put together.

I loved our Keycamp holiday. I will be dreaming of the next one over the long winter months in Edinburgh.

Posted 15 July 2009 23:18 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Fun Holidays

Tournesol

We have returned from our idyllic holiday in France. The train journey home took us through field upon field of golden sunflowers. All holding their yellow-fringed heads up to the sun. As if in homage. Then a couple of days after we got back I was shopping in Tesco. Where I spotted some more sunflowers. Except these particular flowers looked downcast. Their faces turned downwards. Wilting from the absence of the sun.

Posted 14 July 2009 16:22 | Number of comments: 4 | Comments

Holidays

Travel bag

We came on our French holiday with Keycamp without a car - unusual for this sort of holiday - after catching the Edinburgh-Poitiers flight. That has not stopped us getting about - we are just using other modes of transport. Tonight we surveyed our collection of buggies, cycles and assorted travelling paraphernalia parked outside our mobile home. Here is an inventory:

1. One brand-new Maclaren buggy (black and grey), brought from home. Excellent for city streets. Disastrous in sandy conditions.

2. Two all-terrain buggies, standard Keycamp issue (small hire fee). Fixed front wheel. Can be dragged across sand dunes, rather like Scott hauling his sledge acoss Antarctica. Except weather here rather better.

3. One infant car seat. From home; for taxis.

4. One booster seat. Doubles as toy. Also from home.

5. One bicycle. Hired from Keycamp. For visiting beach, pine forests, supermarket, restaurants and countryside.

6. One bicycle with Hoppelopnikon* attached. Also hired from Keycamp.

*A Hoppelopnikon is a trailer where small children can be stowed and towed. In fact, it should probably be named a 'Stow N Tow' - except that Button sees the whole contraption as an affront to her peace and happiness. So, for her, it should probably be named 'Instrument of Cruel and Unusual Torture'. That said, by the end of today, Button was warming to being towed along: Beanie likes it very much; she said it was 'like being in a wee house.'

7. One red wheelbarrow-type contraption for hauling small children, bags and shopping. Would do Santa Claus proud.

Posted 09 July 2009 12:44 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Activities Fun Holidays Out and about

French holiday

We are on holiday in the northern Vendee in France, on a twelve-day break given to us by Keycamp. Va-vay has bought Beanie a sunhat from the local Hyper U and, although I shouldn't brag, I can't help thinking how pretty she is, with her blonde curls waving from under the brim of her new hat, as she runs up the track to our mobile home, carrying a stick of bread in her arms.

'Here you go, Mummy,' she tells me, clambering up the steps of our decking. The bread is almost as tall as Beanie, but she wrestles it up onto the table. She clambers up for a cuddle on my knee then turns and looks at her father. They have been planning a surprise.

'Are you going to tell Mummy what you asked for in the shop, Beanie?' he asks her. She puts on her serious look; pauses to deliberate a moment, then forms her mouth into an 'Oh' shape. Her father and I wait for a word to emerge. Beanie's younger sister Button looks up from where she is sat banging a pine cone on the decking, then goes back to her game. 'Oon baguette,' says Beanie.

My heart swells with pride. Yesterday Beanie said 'Bonjour' to a little girl the same age as her whom she met at the swimming pool complex here at the La Yole parc. She has managed a few other French words since we arrived at Poitiers Airport last Wednesday and walked off the plane into the sweltering heat of French summertime. So far her vocabulary is mostly food-based. It runs to 'Au revoir', 'Merci', 'jus de pommes' and 'brioche' - the latter a speciality of the Vendee.

We got up late this morning - 9.30am, which is late for us - after a late dinner out here on the decking; listening to Coldplay's sweetly plangent music on the CD player. Beanie was in such ecstasy at being allowed to stay up late she agreed - for once - to eat all her cheesy pasta that I cooked up in the mobile home kitchen.

Of course, even though we are on holiday, some things never change. Later that morning Beanie is talking to Mr Bear. 'It's alright, but be careful and don't fall off,' she says to him, in a stern yet loving manner. He is perched precariously on the door handle of our mobile home - where Beanie herself has placed him. When it comes to Mr Bear, Beanie speaks only in English.

Posted 06 July 2009 15:40 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Activities Fun Holidays

Easter break

So, our Easter break in the Scottish Borders. First, the good bits: daffodils, teashops, time with husband and child, ruined abbeys, Easter eggs (Beanie's egg is pictured left) and cherry cake. Plus I managed to drive us there and back - a big deal for me, as I must be one of the most timid drivers in Scotland. And the bad bits? Freak weather conditions: hailstorms and snow. Va-vay and I arguing about the route. And about my driving. And - worst bit - a group of fifty 10-year-old boys invading our youth hostel on Saturday night, banging on the door of our family room, rattling the door handle and shouting at us, forcing Va-vay, Beanie and me to flee in terror to a local hotel at 9pm. Though in a way, moving to the hotel was one of the good bits, because it (unlike the hostel) had central heating, lavender toiletries, coal fires, wood panelling, good cheer, tranquillity, attentive but unobtrusive staff, ensuite bathrooms, a television and top-notch bedding. I will never take any of these for granted again. Not after Schoolboy Saturday. And yesterday, Va-vay came home bearing a new piece of geekery - a Sat Nav system for the car to avoid further map-reading arguments. He has already had hours of fun programming it and is now talking excitedly about future trips. I should have known the way to win him round to driving was via technology. I had best get back to my (paid) work to find funds to pay for it all.

Posted 25 March 2008 12:08 | Number of comments: 10 | Comments

Activities Car Holidays

Vote on your 'Treasured Places'

Those of you who live here in Scotland might be interested in Treasured Places, a free on-line poll to choose the country's favourite historical image. It's run by the Royal Commission on Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland , a heritage organisation that documents Scotland's past, and voting remains open until Thursday (25 Oct). The Commission is staging the vote to celebrate its 100th anniversary next year.

Voters can choose from a hundred pictures that range from shots of the Dean Bridge, Edinburgh (top left) to Craigievar Castle, Aberdeenshire (middle left), Drum Castle, also in Aberdeenshire, (bottom left) and Elgin Cathedral in Moray. There are some gems in there, such as images of the Churchill Barrier at Scapa Flow, Abbotsford House in the Borders, the Bell Rock Lighthouse in Angus, and the Bilsland Crest from the Thistle Chapel in St Giles Cathedral. Or you can nominate your own image.

The top ten images will feature in a major centenary exhibition at the Edinburgh City Art Centre in 2008 and the winner will be celebrated by a poem written by Valerie Gillies. The winner will be announced on Saturday (27 Oct). Lest you wonder about my involvement in the project (and, please, no jokes, thank you all the same, about historical monuments/older mothers, really not in the mood), let's just say one of the organisers is a close relative of someone who comments on this site frequently. Beyond that, my lips are sealed.

Posted 23 October 2007 23:56 | Number of comments: 2 | Comments

Activities Edinburgh Fun Holidays Out and about Older mother

Dog days

On holiday it seemed that Beanie greeted every slavering cur, half-rabid wolf and barking hound like long-lost friends, crying out 'dug' to them, oblivious to my maternal fears. 'Dug' is a recent addition to her vocabulary, a popular one, but Avignon pavements are narrow; its dogs can be unpredictable.

Imagine, then, her delight when, on a train journey home one day, we happened on a tiny 'dug' nestling in a woman's handbag. Combining as it did two of her greatest loves - 'dugs' and handbags - Beanie could not have been more entranced.

"Dug! Dug! Dug!" she pointed, desperate to ensure that I, too, had noticed this two-for-one miracle, this holy grail of travel accessories, the benchmark by which all other bags will now be judged. "Dug! Dug! Dug!"

"Yes, Beanie. Dog," I told her, a trifle pedantically, it must be confessed, but loving her innocent enthusiasm.

"Can she touch the dog?" I asked its owner in French.

"Ah, no, he has sharp teeth. Likes to bite." The woman made biting gestures.

"Beanie," I whispered to her "The little dog might bite. We'll just look at him for now."

She listened to what I said, clambered back up on my lap and watched the puppy from afar, interjecting every so often: 'dug!' - and then again - 'dug!' until both she and the dog fell asleep.

Posted 16 October 2007 12:06 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Daughters Holidays Likes/Dislikes Out and about

En vacances....

.... for a couple of weeks. Back early October.

Posted 21 September 2007 21:11 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Holidays

New beginnings

So, the weekend away. The child-free weekend away.

Surreal moment in Manchester Airport en route to Waterford, in Ireland. Was pushing a trolley between terminals. That felt natural: I'm used to pushing things. Looked down. Couldn't see a toddler in front of me.

Ohmigod, where was she? Where was Beanie? Panicked.

Remembered. Big sigh of relief - she was at nursery. While I was supposed to be learning to enjoy myself on my own again.

Va-vay said before I left: "If you don't come back having enjoyed yourself, I'll make you go away again."

Mad paranoia before I left. I started worrying someone might steal Beanie from nursery while I was away. Phoned a friend. Who was kind enough not to sound exasperated but persuaded me my fears were groundless; talked me onto the plane.

As for the wedding itself, beautiful. The sun shone on our corner of Ireland. The priest who conducted the ceremony could have been in showbiz. A "character" we all agreed afterwards. Straight out of Father Ted.

As we waited for the bride to arrive, a red butterfly fluttered in an arched window of the church. She arrived to Pachelbel's Canon in D, played on the harpsichord. Never fails to bring tears to my eyes, that music. The groom looked so proud to be marrying such a lovely girl.

They certainly knew how to party. The party went on until five am, with lots of singing, dancing, drinking and talking. I managed to last until one o'clock. Late by my enfeebled standards.

It was lonely without Va-vay. Made me realise how lucky I am to be with him. Reminded me of the start to our family life.

The wedding seemed made up of couples, like when I was 'properly' single. At the dinner, I sat next to other 'singleton' at the event, a nice Irish diplomat who told me it was difficult in his line of work to find a wife, because nowadays women want careers, and are reluctant to go through the upheaval of moving country every three years.

Our table had a book on how long the speeches would last.

On Sunday morning, I got up, made myself a cup of tea and went back to bed to read the papers. For the first time in the eighteen months since I became a mother.

At the security check on the way home, officials searched my belongings. The woman found my diary and opened it. The pages fell open where I'd left a picture of Beanie on her first birthday. The official looked at the photo. Looked at me. Smiled. Stopped the search. Waved me through.