End of the March; Start of the Marathon

And so, we have reached 'Tourist Season Eve'. After all my worries and woes, deliberations and despair, the Great Day is almost upon us, and tomorrow our population hits 100% capacity. And you know what? I feel ready for it. I am calm, I am confident in our ability to cope, and I know full well that the anxious anticipation of a situation is always infinitely more worrisome than the situation itself, so I know that whatever is thrust my way between now and the first week of November will be manageable, rewarding and fun.

RC 31-3-23

Ok...

I feel better than I did yesterday, thank you very much. I think I've just hit a plateau of acceptance about what's about to happen workwise and my professional brain has kicked in and released some kind of endorphin or other that is chilling me out and reminding me that I'm good at this stuff and all will be well.
Or maybe the stress has just made me delusional.

RC 30-3-23

Rory's Latest Boring Rant About Time

This week is flying by far too quickly for my liking. I started Monday with a list of about 47 tasks that desperately needed completing before the weekend and now, despite having finished 27 of them, that list is up to 83. We all feel woefully unready for the onslaught of tourists about to descend upon our sites, and the thought of another seven or eight months of this level of stress is not a welcome one. I'm sure we'll be fine in the end. There's nothing unsafe on any of the sites, everything has been cleaned, and there's nothing going on that we weren't dealing with at this time last year, and it all got done and it was all fine. And last year was even harder because, as unbelievable as it seems now, we still had a shedload of Covid protocols to instigate. That particular thorn-in-my-jacksy does seem to be less of an issue this year, thank God. So this year is pretty easy in comparison, but pain is relative and memories fade, so telling me 'well, it's easier than last year' is like telling a chemotherapy patient 'this isn't as bad as that flu bug you had 10 years ago.'
Actually, it's probably nothing like that but that's the best analogy I can come up with right now. 
Was that even an analogy??? Stop sidetracking me....

It just feels like Friday night is this big deadline that we all have to hit. It feels like a looming date with destiny that will either make or break us, when in reality it's no different to New Year's Day or one of the other meaningless annual occurrences that we attach unnecessary significance to - it will simply happen, and then pass, and the World will go on. I think we need to remember (and by 'we' I probably mean 'me' mostly) that our visitors have been through a long Winter where many of them will have been worrying about heating costs and rising food prices, and now they are venturing Suffolk-ward for a break from all that. They won't mind if the grass isn't all cut to a standardised length, or if we can't run the planned twilight swimming sessions in the pool because we can't find enough lifeguards locally to man it, or if the slushie machine in the arcade only has two flavours instead of three. They are well aware that they are joining us right at the start of our season, and that they are paying less than they would in Summer precisely because they won't have access to the full programme of events. And 99.8% of our holidaymakers (not an accurate statistic) tend to just get on with it and amuse themselves anyway, we don't have to feel responsible for filling every single second of their getaway with fun and games. And 97.6% of the population (not an accurate statistic) are decent people who understand reality and don't have ridiculous expectations, so we can all relax a bit and just do our best.

But I do wish Time could slow down a bit, and give us all another week before Friday...

RC 29-3-23

Vehicular volume

My car continues to behave like a rogue sound-effects machine plundered from the set of a war film. There are creaks, bangs, scrapes, whistles and groans, and those are just coming from me. I'm not particularly knowledgeable when it comes to cars, as you know, but it sounds to me like there's something wrong with the suspension, and the gearbox, and at least three of the four wheels. My intention is to just keep on driving the bloody thing and hope it either rights itself or gives up and falls apart, so I don't have to think about it anymore. I've convinced myself that I can bike to work every day if needed, and there's far less chance of icy roads in the mornings now we're hitting the end of March, so maybe I can forget about using a car until October at least? The boys will be fine joining me if we need to take them anywhere - Mathew can balance on the crossbar, and I can wear one of those strap things that trendy men wrap their babies in so they can take them with them to Starbucks. Rian will love being in one of those as I pedal through the countryside.
That's what I'm telling myself anyway. Anything to avoid having to spend yet more money on a piece of machinery that I don't even enjoy operating.

RC 28-3-23

Bleary-Eyed Waster of the East

I am phenomenally tired today, to the point of struggling to keep my eyes open. After Saturday's wet-and-wild trip to the seaside, I felt so energised and enthused that I went a bit mad with household tasks, attacking the dust and the washing pile like a Victorian housemaid preparing for a visit from the Queen. Then, I got excited about the arrival of BST to such an extent that I sat up until 1am Sunday morning just so I could see the clocks change. So I ended up getting about five hours sleep, and then yesterday got lost in caffeine and adrenaline and had a busy day of exhausting play with Mathew.
Today, it has all caught up with me.
Which is unfortunate, because the Easter Holidays start on Friday and I have a huge list of checks and inspections to carry out before the parks hit full capacity on Saturday.

RC 27-3-23

Invigoration

I surprised myself today and ended up in the North Sea!
That opening line probably needs some explanation, lest you think me suicidal.
One of Philippa's sporty chums called last night and said that the tidal forecast made our local beach look quite amenable to some gentle surfing, and wondered whether I would like to join them for a bit of a plunge (knowing, as they do, that I own a Winter wetsuit). It may have been the wine talking, but I heard myself say 'Yes!' and found myself heading to the wardrobe to remove said wetsuit and check it wasn't mouldy or muddy.
Early this morning, they rolled up at my door and off we heading to The Sandy Place to avail ourselves of Nature's wetness.
It was amazing.
Terrifying, turbulent, painful, powerful, adrenalizing and Arctic, but amazing.
It's one of those activities that, once done, makes me think 'why don't I do that more often?' but which I suspect, if done more often, would lose its special sheen and become commonplace.
Hope that makes sense. My fingers and brain are both a bit frozen at the moment so I might not be thinking straight, or typing accurately. But I have to say - the feeling of a hot shower after a Wintry dip in the North Sea is something incomparable. It may be up there with my All-Time Favourite Sensations Ever!! (which sounds like a good idea for a future blog posting....)

RC 25-3-23

Parenthood can be Painful

Mathew is being a bit of a terror at the moment, especially towards me. He is quite vocally telling me he wants his Mum, not me, he is learning what 'No' means and using it more often than he uses 'Please' and 'Thank You' and he is generally acting as if I am the worst thing in his life and he would be better off without me.
This culminated in an unpleasant incident this morning, where he managed to land a toy tractor squarely on my left testicle from a distance of about twenty feet. I know it wasn't a deliberate, calculated, planned act of violence upon my person, but it took me by surprise and caused a considerable amount of pain. Those of you blessed with the male genitalia will know just how vomit-inducing and distress-causing an unexpected whack in the old sperm-bags can be, and believe me, getting a tractor-shaped, orange-sized heavy hunk of metal right on the plum is about as unpleasant as it gets.
And so I reacted rather badly.
I don't think I called him a Bastard Child of Satan, but I can't be sure of that fact. The aftermath involved me aiming the tractor at the bin, Mathew stomping off crying, and Philippa saying very firm things to me, all while I lay prone on the floor trying to catch my breath and waiting for the agonising throbs to stop pulsing through my crotch.
Even now, hours later, I am wincing every time I move and wondering whether or not my chances of contracting cancer have increased a thousand-fold just as a result of that one impact. I know that any time your cells are damaged it pushes up your risk of developing tumours, and I'm pretty sure he damaged about 98% of the cells in my right orchid, if not more.
Bloody kids.

RC 24-3-23

Getaway

I've got a strong urge to book a holiday.
I think the fact that I'm about to spend the next seven months working hard to make sure that other people enjoy their vacation time is reminding me that I haven't been anywhere for a while and have nothing lined up. So I might suggest to Philippa that we think about a November jaunt somewhere this year. She's aiming to do the full Year of Maternity Leave, so it'll be a nice break away before she heads back into the world of being a doctor surgery receptionist. Rian will be almost one, so he'll be more transportable, and my mad season of madness will be calming down a bit, so it'll be ok for me to leave the site (and by then, let's be frank, I will be needing it).

I might have a look at some places on my lunch break and then present some ideas to my wife this evening. Novembers have been, in recent years, a late-Summer/early-Autumn affair weather-wise so I'm sure we can have a little trip somewhere not too far away and enjoy it. It doesn't need to be an all-inclusive eight-hour-flight-away family resort destination, just a beautiful part of England where we can relax and enjoy some downtime.

In other news, Gavin has been chatting to me about his plans for the South-West section of his Expanding Empire, even going so far as to enquire whether I might consider moving my family to Devon to be part of the long-term management team. I have to say, it's a little tempting. I know it's a big upheaval, but the young 'uns are young enough for it not to be a huge disruption to their schooling and friendships, and it's nice to know that one's chosen career can open up these opportunities for relocation. Knowing Gavin, this is just a 'right here, right now' discussion that will never go any further and might even have been forgotten by the time he drove home today, but it's fun to think about and consider as an option. I might see if I can persuade him to send us all down there for a week in November, so we can see what we think of it and make a decision then....

RC 23-3-23

March is marching by...

I can feel the tsunami of the tourist season fast approaching the shores of my worklife and it's making me slightly apprehensive and nervous. It's only a few weeks ago that our site was virtually empty, with even our permanent residents offsite for their annual 'avoid illegality by repositioning for a fortnight' sojourns, and in just over a week we'll be full of families. That contrast is manageable but takes a while to get used to. I've had a good few months of Having To Do Less and from April 1st it'll be Flat Out Til Autumn. Never mind. It's all good stuff, and I enjoy it immensely, but it's like any Big Thing that is appearing over the horizon - the thought of having to tackle it fills you with dread, even though you know full well that when it arrives you just get on with it and cope.

RC 22-3-23

The constant calamity of cars

Now my driving journeys aren't accompanied by the soundtrack of a booming, failing exhaust pipe, I can hear other worrying noises that are telling me my vehicle isn't running well. I'm just deciding how many of them I can ignore, how many of them I can convince myself are untroubling, and how many I should probably get looked at. I know the sensible thing would be to drop it off to be checked out while I'm at work, but, y'know, I've already blown two hundred quid on a blown exhaust, and, y'know, 'cost of living crisis' and all that. I'll see how it goes over the next few days. If it's sounding worse by Friday I'll give the moody mechanics a ring and see what they advise. 

In other news, all our sites in Suffolk are officially at full capacity over the entirety of the Easter Holidays. This, despite our prices having to go up this year due to all the boring inflation stuff. I don't see how this ties in with that 'cost of living crisis' that this blogger mentioned in a previous paragraph contained within this posting today, but maybe Britons feel spending money on spending a week in a caravan is more important that wasting it on overpriced heating at home.  I'm not going to complain. It'll be hard work for a couple of weeks, but nothing we haven't coped with before. It really is nice when you've been in a job long enough to feel like you know what's coming, and what to do to deal with it. It's taken me two years but I'm almost feeling comfortable in my career!

RC 21-3-23

Nearer April than Feb

I think Philippa enjoyed her Mother's Day (her first as a parent of two!)
There were flowers, there were cards, and there was a rather clumsy attempt at breakfast in bed where Mathew ended up ingesting more jam than he managed to spread on the toast.
It was lovely, because Mathew really seemed to understand it was a special day for his mum and paid her lots of attention. Rian just kind of laid there and gurgled and didn't help much, but he was only born in November so I guess we should forgive him.

I want to make it clear that we do this sort of thing way more often than once a year. I'm not really a fan of these 'Events' that have been created by card companies as yet another guilt-causing, money-grabbing capitalistic opportunity, even when they benefit myself. If we can't show people how much we love them every single day, then an overpriced bit of card with a flower on it isn't going to remedy that. But it's hard not to get swept up in it all, and you do wonder how people would react if you were the only family in Britain NOT to make an effort, so make an effort we did.

RC 20-3-23

Happy Day, Ireland

Friday, I have decided, should be takeaway night.
I know that's not exactly a revolutionary idea, but from the end of this month I'll be working every Saturday, so I think it's nice to have a little end-of-working-week treat while I still have two days to get over whatever horrible things the takeaway does to my digestive system. 

 

ST PATRICK'S DAY HAIKU:

No snakes in Ireland

St Patrick removed them all

So the legend goes

RC 17-3-23

Budget bollocks

I don't like this idea of helping people with childcare costs.
There are many things I don't agree with the current government on, but none more so than "Being at work is more important than looking after your children." As a parent now, I don't see how there is anything more precious and powerful on Earth than the bond between children and their parents, and I'd like to spend MORE time with my offspring if possible, not less. And I love the fact that Philippa is at home with them all the time. It would be horrendous to be paying someone to look after my sons, so that my wife could be away from them, just to earn a few quid. That just seems insane to me, and yet it seems to be the accepted policy at the moment; the preferred option.
I don't pay much attention to political stuff, as you know, but I've picked up a few bits about yesterday's budget from having the radio on at work and hearing my colleagues talk about it. So let's just see if I've got this right:
The most celebrated part of Jeremy Hunt's announcement is the fact that adults can be given money to give to someone else to look after their children so they can go to work when they could have been away from work to look after their children...
And this is being celebrated?
What the F**k are we doing??????

RC 16-3-23

Mad March?

We've had so much rain in the past few days that I think my feet are more water than flesh.  My favourite month is now half-over (give or take a few hours) and it's been Wintry as often as it's been Springy. In the past two weeks, temperatures in our garden have fluctuated by 13 degrees Celsius and we've had snow, frost, high winds, hail, bright sunshine, clouds and downpours all in equal measure.
Stupid climate.
Ted tells me that March will end badly because, according to Norfolk folklore, 'if it enters as a lamb, it'll go out as a lion' and the 1st day of the month was a pleasant one, apparently, so, apparently, the last day will be a bastard. Ted is screaming towards a dementia ward at a fast pace of knots though, so he may have got that all wrong.
Personally, I'm just closing my eyes and pretending it's already Spring. I can hear birds a-twittering, see flowers a-blooming and sense trees thickening of leaves. As long as I don't acknowledge the real world around me, everything is perfectly pleasant!

RC 15-3-23

Pontification

Yesterday morning my car sounded like someone had put a broken, but powerful, bass speaker in the engine and was playing Eminem tracks too loud. Now, it is as quiet as a toaster (but doesn't cook bread, unfortunately). Amazing what a difference it makes when you look after things properly and get them repaired by people who know what they're doing.
It amazes me, actually, how little time and attention most of my colleagues give to their vehicles. After a house, your car is probably the most expensive purchase most of us ever make, and yet some people do nothing to try and keep that investment running properly. They just climb inside it when they need to get somewhere and expect it to work as advertised. Now, I'm not saying I spend countless weekend hours servicing, polishing and checking fluid levels, but I am aware that Rory's Little Runaround needs a bit of regular TLC if I want it to transport me safely, so I do what needs to be done...
Ok, I'm lying again. I check the oil maybe once every six months, and everything else I leave to the team at the garage near work, but I hope you get my point....

RC 14-3-23

Windy AF

I almost didn't need to use my car's engine this morning. I'm pretty sure I could have just taken off the handbrake and the wind would have blown me all the way to work.

I'm still seeing the benefits of Philippa's day at a spa last week; so much so that I've suggested she makes it a regular thing, maybe going once a month. She immediately started talking about it being 'an unnecessary expense' so I'll have to just go ahead and book it for her, and then remind her that it's good for me to spend time on my own with my sons. If she thinks it's for my benefit rather than for her she's less likely to play the female 'I don't deserve it' card and actually go and do something that I know she would enjoy.

 

It was lovely to see Sophie and Amy again yesterday. Do I dare to suggest that my eldest sister may have fallen in love again, for the first time in years?  She was certainly smiling more than I've seen in a long time, and was very relaxed, even when she was talking about work. Normally her brow furrows and her eyes deaden when we get to mentioning the care sector, but yesterday she could discuss it without starting to look suicidal. It's always nice to see that glorious glow that people get when they've met someone special, and it's even nicer when you see it happen to a family member.

 

And finally (for now) my car is currently at 'Tony's' to have a brand new exhaust fitted. I will be several pounds lighter tonight, but should be able to drive home without worrying that my eardrums are about to burst.

RC 13-3-23

Happy (Blog) Birthday To Me!!

Monday 10th March 2008 was the date when I first dipped a tentative toe into the previously uncharted wetness of the blogsphere.  That means, Maths-Geniuses, that this blogsite is FIFTEEN YEARS OLD TODAY!!!
FIFTEEN!!!
If it was a child, it would be hitting the awkward teenager stage, smoking outside the school gates and experimenting with different kissing techniques; trying out unusual colour schemes with its clothing and desperately wanting to stand out from everyone else at its school. (says me, with my broad experience of raising teenagers...)

I have to say I am rather proud of it, and what it has become. Yes, there have been times when it's been more of a burden than a blessing, and yes, there have been times when I've lain awake at night worrying about it, but on the whole it's a good kid and is developing into a well-rounded, pleasant being with a healthy level of respect for its elders. 

I feel this is an achievement that merits celebration, so I persuaded Philippa that we should get a sumptuous takeaway from our Indian restaurant of choice, 'The Taste of The Taj'. I had something really rather hot and I'm hoping it will blow away the remnants of my cold, which is somehow still lingering.

 

Isn't it strange, by the way, that the words 'lingerie' and 'lingering' are so similar (sharing, as they do, their first seven letters) but mean very different things, and come from very different sources?

To save you looking them up, I will tell you - 'lingerie' comes from the French 'linge' which means 'cloth' or 'linen', while 'lingering' comes from an old Germanic word meaning 'to make longer'.

So, if like me, you thought they might come from the same root word then, like me, you would have been wrong. But I've done the research now, so you don't have to. You can thank me by paying for my takeaway tonight, if you so wish.... 

 

Now I have to clear my search history before Philippa uses my laptop and asks me why I've been searching for lingerie......

RC 10-3-23

Nice news

Sophie and Amy are coming to see us again at the weekend! This is great. It means I get to spend time with my older sister again, and it means that last time we met up, I didn't annoy her new girlfriend quite as much as Philippa thought I did. My wife was convinced that I had overdone the 'inquisitive, protective brother' thing and pissed Amy off or insulted her, but apparently my wife was wrong, so there!
I've booked us a lunch at our favourite Sunday carvery of choice, and I shall insist on paying, as they are spending money on petrol to travel and see us. 
I've also got a lot of work done since that point. Funny how a non-work e-mail received at work that gives you a burst of optimism can fuel a productive spell in the office! I've sorted a backlog of non-urgent e-mails, I've responded to a pathetic attempt at a complaint that I've been putting off for weeks, and I've finalised some schedules for activities during the Easter holidays (which are getting ridiculously close now!)

I also talked myself into an impressive act of bravery and took my car to be checked at "Tony's Tyres and Exhausts". The kindly gentleman that saw me was a delight and explained to me what the problem was, and why I need to spend the money he was quoting. He even invited me down into 'his pit' so he could show me the damage on the underside of my vehicle, so I would know that he wasn't pulling a fast one. To be honest, he could have been showing me the inside of a narwhal's gall bladder and I would have felt equally as informed, such is my level of ignorance in these matters, but I appreciated his efforts to explain. They had to order my new exhaust, as they didn't have a suitable one in stock for my make and model, so I've booked it in to be done on Monday. Which means I have a few more days of sounding like one of those tits who soup their cars up to make them growlier and then spend their evenings cruising up and down Yarmouth seafront being noisy.
Cool.

RC 9-3-23

2045 GMT

Insult to injury (well... inconvenience to illness)

My car is making a noise like a bad beatboxer has strapped a bass speaker to my axle and is practising his craft while I'm driving.
My wild guess is that my exhaust may be failing.
This is a pain that would normally be easily fixed, but in my run-down state of malaise it feels like a huge task that needs to be completed, and my old fears that surface when I have to speak to professional people who know more about something than I do have resurfaced again and I'm anticipating being made to feel stupid and being conned. I'm sure it's only a small hole, and I'm sure it's a simple procedure, but I'm also sure that they'll make me pay for a full replacement and charge me several hundred pounds. Why do I feel so unmanly and unknowledgeable when I have to face mechanics, or plumbers, or electricians? Maybe I consider them to be 'proper men' with 'proper jobs' while I'm just a poncy scientist who sits in an office at a holiday camp these days, talking to children's entertainers and ordering mix for the slush machine.

RC 9-3-23

The Return of Winter

My God, it's cold this week.
It's pissing me off, to be honest. It's colder now than it was in January, so just as I was starting to get excited about the changing daylight length and the onset of Spring, Nature seems to have hit the Pause button and plunged us into a spell of frigidity. (Not sure that's a word, but I'll go with it for now).
It's dull, grey, lifeless, cold, cold, cold and cold.
My workplace is looking decidedly un-Summery which is making it harder for me to envisage it full of tourists and therefore making it harder for me to motivate myself to do any work. And let's be honest, it doesn't take much to distract me at the best of times, so this is all making me rather unproductive and unprofessional.
(God, I hope my boss doesn't read this blog, as this one is basically an admission of laziness.)

I've just looked up 'frigidity' and it means 'the inability of a woman to gain orgasm during sexual intercourse'..... which is NOT what I was thinking of when I used it at the start of the posting! The word I SHOULD have used was 'frigidness'. Ah well, we live and learn....

RC 7-3-23

Jekyll and Hyde (but female, and both Jekyll)

Philippa is a completely different person! I don't know what they did to her at that spa on Saturday, but she is relaxed, confident, hopeful, cheerful and gorgeous.
I mean, she was gorgeous before the weekend, but she now seems to be radiating a glowing gorgeousness from every single pore. I would say maybe she's pregnant again, because it reminds me of the early stages of pregnancy so much, but I very much doubt it's that. I certainly hope it isn't!
Her happiness has improved my mood greatly. It's a bit sad really, that my emotional state is so closely tied to the wellbeing of my wife, but I suppose that's what happens when you're hopelessly in love with someone.
Anyway, enough of that soppy old shit...
My cold is still tormenting me. Bastard thing doesn't seem to want to leave my hot young body. But I can't blame it really, it's turned decidedly Wintry again and seems determined not to get above 3 degrees Celsius for a while. So, if you were an infectious virus, wouldn't you rather stay in the lovely, welcoming warmth of a male human-person's innards?
I'm going to stop writing now because I really am not making sense.
Hope you have a good Monday.

RC 6-3-23

Stories from a solo Saturday

I am pleased to report that my day at home, alone, with both my sons, has been a triumphant (albeit trying) affair. I am exhausted, exhilarated, proud, perturbed and sweaty! We did Lego, we built a train track, we made cookies and decorated them, we managed to break a mixing bowl without it being a catastrophe and we bonded and laughed and played.

I am too tired to share all the details, but it might be one of my favourite days of all time!

One big highlight was giving Rian his milk. There is something magical about your infant child laying comfortably in your arms and happily suckling from the bottle you're holding for him, and I can only wonder at how amazing it must be to breastfeed; to have that incredible connection and to be providing for your offspring in that way. There aren't many things that make me envious of women, but I envy them that.

Philippa came in looking amazingly relaxed and gave me the biggest kiss I've had in months. She said 'The nicest thing about the whole day was the fact that I wasn't worried. I knew you'd cope, and I knew you'd be great, and I can't tell you what that means to me.'

And hearing that was the nicest thing about MY whole day!
And that's saying something, because the whole day has been close to perfection.

RC 4-3-23

Fri-ku 2 weeks running? Go on then...

Here we are in March
Still light when we have our tea
Lighter mornings too!

Crocuses growing
Daffodils arriving too
Snowdrops receding

Four weeks til clocks change
I'm giddy with excitement
Because I love Spring

I am buying coals
and cleaning the barbecue
Ready to fire up!

Anticipation
Can lead to disappointment
But it's good to hope

RC 3-3-23

22 in 2

Despite feeling a slight spell of SAD, and being a bit poorly, I made February quite a productive month, blog-wise. In the 28 days, I posted 22 separate missives. That equals my record number in the second month of the year, equalling the total achieved in both 2020 and 2021. It makes me wonder what may have been the most frequently occurring number/month ratio since I started all this way back in whenever it was. The statistics are all there to look at, if I wish to, but I really can't be bothered. What would it achieve? I'd just be wasting time that I could be spending writing another entry. But I do find myself wondering....

Anyway... With March well and truly under way now, work is starting to ramp up and gear up in preparation for the onslaught of enthusiastic tourists in April. My God, the gap between holiday seasons seems to shorten every year! (Says me, with my two whole years of experience in the industry!)

 

Sister Sophie's new lady friend 'Amy' asked me recently if I've 'found my groove' workwise. By which she meant - 'after messing about with supermarkets and garages and stuff, are you now happy and settled in a chosen career?' The honest answer is, I don't know. I'm just stumbling along, doing my best and earning some pennies, and waiting for my mind to grow up enough to decide what it really wants to do with its life. But I have to say, the thought of this particular adventure going on for a number of years, with cheerful holidaymakers to satisfy and with me getting better at it with each passing season, is a very nice thought. But we'll see.

RC 2-3-23

A rare moment of rightness!

I have arranged for Philippa and a mate (or relative) of her choosing to spend a day at a really rather nice luxury spa on Saturday. I shall be taking charge of the little ones so she can go and have a relaxing recharge while forgetting about us needy Chesworth boys for a few hours. And I haven't played it cheap by getting her access to the facilities at one of our sites, I have booked her a proper treat at a large hotel and leisure club near the coast. I told her this morning, and she was delighted to the point of tears. I'm not sure the phrase 'thank you' has been uttered as many times in our house in total EVER as it was between 8 and 9am this morning. And then she messaged me four times in the first few hours of work to thank me again.

Welcome to my favourite month, by the way. Alongside the first day of BST, and Christmas Eve, today is my favourite 'same every year' date of the year. Flipping the calendar over from Feb always gives me a rush of excitement and hope and fills me with joyous thoughts of the possibilities ahead. Better weather on the way... No dark evenings for months... BBQs and picnics to start up soon... Less clothing to try and force onto an uncooperative youngster before we can go out for a walk... Beautiful flowers on the roadsides... Birdsong in every garden... Only a matter of weeks before beach days are a thing... No more dark mornings... No more icy roads to contend with... More smiles on more faces, generally... Being able to have doors and windows open at home... etcetera... etcetera... etcetera.

Yummy, yummy, yummy.

RC 1-3-23