Tag Archives: family

Kinder Scout

Giving up Kinder Bueno for Kinder Scout has been three years in the making.

6:15am Sunday: I’m stood in the kitchen in my pjays making an epic packed lunch. Tuna and sweetcorn sandwiches, roast chicken salad sandwiches, mini Soreen bars, flapjack(shop bought, I’m not mad), cookies (also shop bought) lots of water, grapes, two packets of Sainsbury’s rainbow laces, chocolate buttons, cheese and onion rolls and coffee.

An hour and a half later we pulled into the car park at the foot of Kinder Scout, a mountain in the Peak District, just a stones throw from the pretty village of Hayfield. It’s bright and breezy an rain is forecast for 1pm so without further ado, with my pocket bulging with rainbow laces, me, my boyfriend and my Dad, set off.

The first thing that struck me, or rather it, was a massive squirrel which had fallen victim to an electricity pylon and was hanging, bat like from the wires, by its melted back feet. I almost chucked up, rainbow style. I hurried past and refused to look up for the rest of the trip.

Passing Kinder Reservoir, the abandoned pump house and secluded £3.5m estate (many conversations about lottery wins ensued.) we started to climb. There’s something really peaceful about falling into step in comfortable company. The odd sheep interjecting, a cuckoo, skylark and goose adding to the chatter.

Having reached Kinder plateau in 2 hours, running on rainbow laces alone, we stopped to take in the view and snap some outcrop photos. Dropping my Canon EOS 1300D camera on the rocks, I vowed to listed to my dad’s expert safety advice of “Kaaaaattttteee maaaaannn, (he’s a geordie) stand still before you take the bloody picture.” Don’t worry, the camera survived to tell the tale in the photos you see here.

Kinder Downfall waterfall allows for some epic shots too and having inhaled a chicken salad sandwich and a handful of grapes, I was back to arsing about, slipping, splashing and snapping in the water.

We touched lucky and missed a huge rain cloud which dropped it load all over neighbouring Stockport and Manchester, to reach the Kinder and Kinder Low trig points at lunch time. The views are incredible. Mam Tor at Edale to the east and on a good day, Snowdon and Cheshire out to the South West. Kinder Reservoir on your right hand side, glistening in the sun.

I was surprised by and awe-struck by the amount of people hill/fell running. Their bodies highly tuned to withstand the uneven ground conditions and steep inclines/declines of the mountain. At 663m above sea level, Kinder Scout is no Snowdon, but it’s still a hefty challenge.

I’ve put so much weight on over the last three years and more so during lockdown and my current role which involves me sitting at a desk for 7 hours a day isn’t helping either. I don’t want to look nor feel like this any more and having picked up on the fact that historically, May is an active month for me (Superhero challenge and charity abseil ) I didn’t wan’t to miss an opportunity to pick up on the momentum. I’ve chosen Kinder Scout over Kinder Bueno’s. It’s time for a change.

We made the circular trip in 5 hours, dodged the rain, chatted, laughed, said a hundred friendly hello’s, slipped, tripped but didn’t fall and definitely didn’t get electrocuted like that poor bloody squirrel by the car park.

My dads dodgy knees still in tact, we arrived home in time to watch the Grand Prix and put everything in the wash before tucking into a sensational Sunday roast. Sundays well spent and a cracking start to my May movement plans!

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I’m Supposed To Be

I love routine, thrive off it, yet tomorrow’s eagerly anticipated school run has thrown everything off kilter.

I’m supposed to be ironing uniforms right now. I realised on Friday that I hadn’t tried any uniform on the kids and had no idea if it still fit. Luckily their lockdown 3.0 diet of selection boxes, pancakes and pre-Easter, Easter eggs hasn’t had a detrimental effect on their pinafores and school sweaters.

I’m supposed to be sorting out school coats in the wash. My six year old son lost his first tooth last week and with pearly white in hand, proceeded to drool blood all over his coat! Why are boys so messy?! His toothy grin is a welcome distraction from his hastily shawn buzz cut. Bring back the barbers, please!

I’m also supposed to be carrying out an undercover toy clear out while my kids are with their dad. This delicate operation involves lashing Happy Meal toys, old kids comics and magazines, rearranging books and arts and crafts supplies and gathering up the millions of errant Lego bricks which litter every single surface and edge of carpet between their two rooms.

I’m supposed to be reading the Sunday papers cover to cover, like I’ve promised myself for the last three years. The reality is I’ll skim through the Home, Travel and supplements and the rest will line the cats littler tray throughout the week. I’ll maybe have a crack at the Sudoku.

I’m supposed to be prepping packed lunches for the week ahead. Although my month long stay in a Premier Inn with three kids last October, has prepared me well for this one. If you can make a nutritious packed lunch in a Premier Inn room with no fridge or cooking facilities, at 10pm, every week night for four weeks, you’re practically an X Men.

I’m supposed to be enjoying a long soak in the bath having invested in some Pink Himalayan Bath Salts a couple of weeks ago. They’re in danger of forming some kind of stalactite (is it stalactite or stalagmite when they grow upwards?) if I don’t get around to it soon. Mmmm a long relaxing bath, proper Sunday behaviour.

I’m supposed to be prepping a Sunday dinner for when the little ones get home, before the dinner, bath, bed routine resumes and we get to chapter three of the latest Michael Morpurgo kids book. Kaspar Prince of Cats is epic by the way, especially if you can nail the voice of The Countess!

Lastly, I’m supposed to be drafting my latest creative writing piece, which is the most fun brief I’ve received in ages. Naturally, everything else is getting binned off and I’m making this a priority.

The returning school run and related responsibilities has forced me into a teenage like slump where I don’t want to do all the boring stuff. Basically, I’m rebelling. I genuinely do love routine, as a family, we thrive off it. But my last few hours of freedom will be spent typing away, knowing I’ll have to get up at 5am to put coats in the tumble dryer, while stepping over toys I should’ve donated or chucked out, living with the regret of not having read that article or soaked my dry skin in the bath. Still, it feels good to rebel, even just for a little while.

All hail the homeschoolers, the end is near.

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A Little Less Conversation

I’ve been thinking about communication a lot this week. How do you talk to someone?

If there’s one particular skill that is essential to being a journalist it’s being able to strike up a conversation with anyone, anywhere. It’s also the single most annoying part of being a parent apparently. “Mum you’re so cringe, you talk to anyone.”

Are you one of those people who talks to their family every day? I am. I chat with my mum probably 2/3 times a day. I call my dad once a week and the same with my brother. I also send daft videos and memes and stuff on whatsapp and Instagram as a way of checking in. Covid restrictions haven’t really influenced this routine, it’s just how we roll. Although, things have begun to change.

As January trundles on I’ve found myself feeling more withdrawn from my usual chatty self. I feel as though there are only three topics of conversational allowed and I’ m so over them all. I think I’m ready to hibernate. You know all those Christmas and new year conversations we have; “All ready for Christmas?” people ask, “yes, just a few last bits” you reply. Or, “how was New Year, do anything nice?” they’ll ask, and you say ” ahh just a quiet one at home with a few drinks, you?”. Those inevitable conversations we enter into a certain times of the year? They’re only manageable because they’re limited to like a two week period.

We’re now in month, I don’t know 9/10(?) of homeschooling and the same perfunctory conversations we were having in April 2020 and still here. Lingering like a empty wine bottle by the bin, waiting to be taken out and replaced. A lady in the park yesterday asked me if I was enjoying homeschooling. I switched into robot mode, “Oh you know, we’re getting a few bits done each day. That’s what counts isn’t it?”

She went on to tell me about how she studied IT in university 20 years ago and introduced computers into high schools for the first time. Her daughter is an architect and she’s making plans to oppose the local park being built on. 125 apartments, imagine the extra traffic? See, I listened. I asked questions about her Dachshund (who knew they barked so loud?) and her granddaughter (much less barky), both of whom we’re trying their best to get into the doughnuts in my shopping bag. She is the only stranger I have spoken to in months and the conversation left me weary.

Oh, that’s not entirely true. An Arriva bus driver told me he liked my phone case when I was paying for a ticket. I smiled and said: “Ahh it just stops me from smashing the screen on a daily basis.” We both smiled that knowing smile all Iphone users do and I went and sat down. Meh. Kind but meh.

I’m torn between wanting something new and exciting to talk about, the inauguration bought us a few covid-free days, but then lacking the motivation to engage. It all seems so trivial and I’m in danger of losing my conversational skill to funny Tik Tok videos and Instagram reels. Why bother to tell the joke when you can send a video of a cat snoring into a microphone? Right?

There are people I am close to who will say that this description does not match the person at all. I am loud, gregarious, sweary and forthright. And they are right, usually.

It’s stressing me out all this not talking. It’s like I need to perform, to be that loud, gregarious girl, always with something to say and never afraid to say it. But it’s knackering and striving to be that person is making me blue. I abhor being negative. Hate it. Always try to look at the postives. But my family are far away, my daughter is struggling with lockdown, my mum is so desperately lonely having lost my step dad in October, the list goes on and it’s mostly crap.

*Audible sigh here*

I went for a five mile walk, posted some Ebay stuff (said hello and answered the home schooling question again from the lady in the post office) and gave my head a wobble. Reset firmly pressed.

Rather than fight it, perhaps now is the time to be quiet. Embrace it. It’s going to be a busy few weeks. I’m signing off from one adventure and beginning a new one. Lots to learn, many new colleagues and people to meet and new routines to establish at home. Maybe this time was always meant to be spent in quiet contemplation? Maybe it’s time to be more of an observer and less of a participant?

January is to me, a month of change. Ordinarily I buy into various resolutions and ‘new year new me’ bollocks until around 13th when the wheels fall off. I also start writing a new diary and clear out my email inbox and message apps. This has all gone to plan, including the wheels falling off bit. But the more noticeable and sustainable change is how I communicate. It’s taking some getting used to but I think I like it. It’s less turbulent, more considered.

Communicating in the right way at the right time, as opposed to just ALL the time, is a 2021 habit I can really get behind. I never wanted to believe it, but maybe less really is more?

Are you feeling lockdown weary or covid/homeschool gagged? What are you doing to combat it? Talk to me.

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When It All Falls Down

Work is online, school is closed and the threat of COVID feels closer than ever before.

It’s day one of 2021 (for those like me, who didn’t kick start their New Year until Monday) and it’s all gone to shit already! I will be teaching online for the foreseeable future, my kids are all home until at least 18th January, and I just heard that another 5 people I know have COVID.

First of all, I have to look at the positives. I hadn’t yet bothered to iron any school uniforms, so that’s a tiny win. I’m genuinely a little bit excited about home schooling my younger two kids. We have a ‘paint your own solar system’ and a shed load of new Lego to get started on. I emailed my kids’ school this morning to thank the staff for everything they’re doing behind the scenes to ensure the pupils have access to school work and reading books. I fully support their decision to close and protect themselves and their families.

Back to window gazing it is then.

My mum, who is now part of our support bubble, having lost her husband to COVID in October, is asbolutely delighted that she can spend more time with the kids and help keep them occupied while I work. Speaking of work. I’m looking forward to two weeks worth of Zoom lessons with my NCTJ students. It’ll be the first time we’ve gone fully digital as we battled through in the news room in 2020. With exams looming, we’ll be battering the wifi to get their portfolio’s completed, it’s a challenge I’m wholly up for.

There’s no way to sugar coat this horrendous virus. Both my mum and step dad contracted COVID in October and sadly, my step dad died. My mum was hospitalised and has made a good recovery, despite her grief. Thank God for grandchildren.

Today I leaned another 5 extended family and friends have caught COVID. All of which have continued working throughout the pandemic, but have taken every precaution otherwise. No pub drinks, no meals out, hand washing, mask wearing, law abiding, and yet, they’re all suffering the effects.

Scotland has just locked down until the end of January. Scottish First Minister, Nicola Sturgeon made the decision despite believing the country is approx 4 weeks behind London, in terms of infection rates etc.

Is a UK lockdown just around the corner? With confirmed COVID figures now surpassing the height of the peak back in April 2020, surely it’s the only option? I don’t know about you, but I’m more nervous about COVID now than ever before. I’ve seen first hand how it can reduce a person to a shell. I don’t want that for anyone.

Home Schooling in 2020

In the coming weeks I hope we can go back to looking out for each other again. Checking in, saying hi, sharing recommendations for take-aways and Netflix shows. I’m going to try and source some more, fun home activities to do with the kids and share them on Instagram. It’s just small things, but they can mean a lot.

Having my family close gives me a little bit of comfort. Mentally I’m preparing to lockdown again. I think it’s coming. And if it doesn’t, then God help us all.

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8pm and Out

Lock down life has got me hitting the apples and pears much earlier than usual. What is there to stay up for?

Since I began in teaching in September, I can’t stay up on a school night. Then my step-dad passed away suddenly and I began to wake up at 4am, regardless at what time I went to bed. Next up on the bedtime rollercoaster, the clocks went back and as it’s dark at like 5pm, I’m done and turning in three hours later.

I’m not even making it through Bake Off! I woke last week to find Hermine has been booted out of the tent and Dave (DAVE! DAVE? OMG, why is DAVE still there?) smuggly through to the final. I blame myself, I wasn’t there for Hermine and her cube cake show stopper. I’m sorry.

I’ve fallen into this routine of falling asleep on the sofa/in the living room chair around the 8pm mark and waking up with all the lights and TV still on around 11pm. Realising this was detrimental to my decrepit spine and winter energy bills, I promised myself to hit the hay once my eyes got heavy. The issue with this is that I could genuinely go to bed at 6:15pm. My kids however, cannot.

At the weekend I try to wean myself off this infantile bedtime routine. But then there was an EPIC delivery of Berry & Rye Elder Flower Collins and Southern Belle Punch and I was more sleepy and sated than I had been all week. Cue me missing the last 20 minutes of S1 E4 of The Queen’s Gambit on Netflix. I’m having to watch everything twice.

I guess if you feel tired, you should just sleep, right? If you’ve watched everything on Netflix, drank all the gin, read all the reading books and recited all the spellings and times tables. If the dishes are done and the uniforms are ironed, just slide into bed and rest your noodle, yeah? Is there any point in fighting it?

I just want to see Peter win Bake Off. Is that asking too much?

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Saying Goodbye

My step dad died very suddenly last month and now I have an internal rage for every single person I see who isn’t wearing a mask.

I’m well aware that there are some conditions for which wearing a mask can exacerbate a pre-existing health condition. But if the risk of catching Covid was so great to your ill health, I can’t help but think you’re unlikely to be doing the school run everyday or perusing the new season fashions in ASDA.

May be I’m being too harsh? My step dad worked for the NHS for 22 years. If you’ve ever had to go to A&E at Liverpool’s Royal Hospital, there’s a chance it was my step dad you gave your details to at check in. He was a familiar face on ‘the desk’ and more recently worked weekends when the department is usually at its busiest.

He caught Covid and four days after his symptoms manifested, he died. Age 63. My mum realised something was wrong in the early hours of the morning and tried in vain to resuscitate him until the paramedics arrived. He’d already gone.

My mum, also positive with Covid was admitted to hospital three days later. The pressure of the virus, grief, constant calls from the coroners office, funeral directors and GP surgery had taken its toll. All alone in the house, which is now bereft of the constant chatter of Sky Sports and police documentaries. My step dad’s favourites.

It took four weeks of agony to finally be able to plan a funeral service. Only 15 people allowed to attend. Minimal flowers. A drive around his beloved Anfield – he’d followed the reds all over Europe back in the day, and finally to Anfield Crematorium.

A low-flying migration of birds flew over as we exited the chapel, having said our final goodbyes and sang You’ll Never Walk Alone at the tops of our voices.

My heart aches for my mum. She’s in her 60’s. Locked down in a house full of memories, which is all but silent. Thank god for Lola cat, keeping her company. I’m visiting every day, taking her the paper, walking down to the community centre once a week for our Covid tests, always wearing a mask and sanitising our hands.

Take some advice from me. Don’t wait until Covid has taken your loved one, before you start taking this seriously. Wear the f*cking mask. Not under your chin, or under your nose. What’s the point in that? Find one you prefer, you can get them online or in any of the supermarkets, and WEAR IT! Wash them regularly and stick a couple in the car and in your coat pockets.

Wash your hands, stay the hell away from people wherever you can. The rate may be coming down, and yes, we are making good progress, but only if we keep at it.

I’ll say only this about the people gathering in their hundreds to protest wearing a mask. You’re f*cking idiots and very much part of the problem. God forbid you get sick and need the NHS. Go home.

RIP Ste, we love and miss you so, so much.

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Back to School

My kids go back to school tomorrow, and this September, I’ll be right behind them, heading for the classroom. I’ve only gone and bagged my dream job!

When I was at school (hundreds of years ago), I wanted to be a teacher. I did my year 10 work experience at my school – I interned for the PE department because it was my favourite subject. I loved the idea of playing a part in students’ development and watching them learn and master new things with your guidance.

Somewhere around age 17, I lost the thirst to learn. I knew university wasn’t for me. I was partway through my A-Levels (PE, English Lit, English Language, Psychology) when an opportunity to go home (Sydney) and work at the Olympic Games 2000 came up, I grabbed it with both hands. Bags packed, I was out of school and all ideas of education and teaching we’re left on the tarmac.

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20 whole years later, I’ve done it. I’ve finally got myself a teaching job. I’m absolutely delighted to say I’ll be joining the staff at The City of Liverpool College and I will be delivering the NCTJ Journalism Diploma programme. It’s the very course I graduated from back in 2016 and the very course I have championed to anyone interested in a career in journalism.

Since the vacancy came up online, I’ve thought of nothing else than delivering shorthand training and supporting journalism students with opportunities to expand on and polish their portfolio’s, ready for the world of work. I can’t wait to get started.

It’s inevitable that the new job has made me stop and think about my previous career decisions. It’s entirely possible that, had I have knuckled down at 17, gone to uni, got my PGCE, that by now I could be enjoying 15 years worth of educating others. But that’s just the way the cookie crumbles, right?

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So this September, there are four pairs of shiny new shoes (okay, mine are Nike’s) on the stairs, four new water bottles lined up ready for the first school day, and three students rooting for their momma on her first big day.

It’s going to be fairly chaotic for us all going back to an educational setting. Whether it’s the kids, teens, or adults. I hope your youngsters enjoy seeing their friends again, you settle into a routine quickly, and you’re all safe and well.

Happy New School Year!

Miss James

 

 

 

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Urban Orienteering with The Lantern Company

This summer I worked with award-winning, Liverpool-based creative events company, The Lantern Company. The Street by Street, Creative Revolution has begun, and the DIY Festival project is now live!

Back in July, The Lantern Company put a call out for artists to help create a DIY Festival blueprint for families, community groups and neighbours. The Lantern Company is known for producing memorable, artistic events ( City of Light, The Monster Halloween Ball, Lumiere London, Liverpool Sound City, Hong Kong Parade, etc.) Due to Coronavirus lockdown, The Lantern Company can’t bring people together in its usual, inspiring way and so, it launched a brand new initiative. A DIY Festival Kit.

The Lantern Company

From The Lantern Company website: “The Street by Street Creative activities have been specially designed to kick start the party, from where you live. You can enjoy the activities in any way you want – at home anytime or as a way of connecting with your neighbours.

If you want to inspire families, friends, and neighbours to come together in your block / street / local park in a safe and socially distanced way, these activities are the perfect way to come together, apart, and have a mini celebration.”

I saw the call for commissions and immediately set to work on my proposal. A few weeks earlier I’d taken to the paths of Springfield Park to create some chalk artwork challenges for kids and their families to enjoy. They were well received and so I submitted my ideas to The Lantern Company – and they loved them too!

The Lantern Company

So, it gives me immense pleasure (still can’t believe I get to say this) to present to you – The Lantern Company, Street by Street Creative Revolution, DIY Festival Kit. Included are 6 different activities ranging from dance to music, baking, art, and my very own addition: Urban Orienteering.

Playing out is the new staying in! Inspired by old school pavement games, such as hopscotch, this workshop shows you how to create your own fun trail, using basic art materials and your imagination. Plan your route down the garden path, driveway, street, or community centre, with 2m gaps, add a start and finish line and get ready to race.

Rain or shine, young or old, we’ll have you stomping, roaring, twirling, and reaching for the stars, safely with your friends, families, and neighbours.

It’s essentially an arty obstacle course. It can be as easy or difficult as you want to make it. My favourite steps have been ‘Stomp and Roar like a Dinosaur’, ‘Emoji Stepping Stones’, and ‘Walk The Plank’.

For all the info about the DIY Festival from The Lantern Company, including video workshops and downloadable PDF’s, click here.

We’d love to see your own DIY Festival pics and receive your feedback. Share your pics with the hashtag #LanternDIYfestival and have LOADS of fun! 

 

 

 

 

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Saturday Catch Up

Feeling a bit paranoid this morning. I woke up with a smidge of a sore throat and it’s making me anxious. Can’t help but think it’s due to the tonne of alcohol I necked last night though.

Before anyone worries, I’ve no temperature or cough so I’ve come to work, where I toil on my own for a few hours so I’m also staying safe and not endangering others.

Waiting to get in at work

Tell you what though, four months on, it’s still really scary all this COVID shiz, isn’t it? I try to limit my COVID media consumption otherwise I end up feeling panicky and like I don’t want to let my kids breathe fresh air or see daylight again.

I’m slightly more concerned at present as I’m due to have surgery in a few weeks and the thought of going into hospital, plus the self-isolating period beforehand is making me a little nervous. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I have to take a COVID test four days before the procedure to make sure I’m in tip-top condition, so that’s a weight off.

It’s disappointing to see so many people STILL not wearing masks in my local area. Both Tesco and Aldi seemed to have relaxed their measures. There’s no longer staff on the door encouraging people to mask up and sanitise their hands. People are back to moving your trolley or leaning over you for produce. Again, maybe I’m a bit paranoid but surely it’s better to be safe than sorry?

Just wear a mask, will yer!

I also understand that not everyone can wear a mask, but I doubt very much that accounts for the many I’ve witnessed.

So back to Saturday morning. I’m currently sat outside work waiting for someone to let me in as I’m not a key holder. It’s BOILING out. 19 degrees and cloudy at 7am can take a running joke. Speaking of which, I text my boyfriend last night (after a few glasses of wine) and said: “ isn’t it brilliant sleeping alone when it’s hot”. I’m not sure what he made of that but I think it made some sense.

I woke up this morning with the youngest night ninja sprawled out across my side of my bed!! I don’t know how he does it! My subconscious picks up every moment they turn over on the night so I’ve no idea how he sneaks in. Little beggar.

He read me the ‘Mummy and Me’ forever friends book this morning then proceeded to make me a slice of wholemeal bread, slathered with Philadelphia, for breakfast. He’s gonna make a smashing husband one day, that kid.

Full up with love, I cycled the 2 miles into work and have been sat, sweating on the steps outside waiting to get in ever since. Happy Saturday peeps!

Thunder & Lightning Ice Cream is the one

Prepare for a barrage of blog posts in the next week as a number of art commissions I’ve been working on, officially go public. Plus I’m yet to bore you all with my Scotland trip photos and anecdotes. Nice one Julia!

 

 

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Crocs, Geese, and Giant Strawberries

There are fundamental signs of getting old, and choosing to buy a pair of Crocs is undeniably one of them. It’s official, I am middle-aged. Shouldn’t I be buying a sports car and dating a 22-year-old?

Alright, so the old adage of suffering a mid-life crisis is a bit outdated, but seriously, I want my PORSCHE 911! I’m joking, although I have bagged a younger man, but that’s not news.

The weather during lockdown has been nuts. 30 degrees one day followed by 8 days of solid rain, followed by a week of mid-twenties and 40 days and 40 nights of rain again. Like I said, nuts. I wasn’t prepared for summer.

I panicked. I didn’t know what I was doing, I just knew I didn’t want to wreck another pair of Adidas Campus by wearing them without socks, to avoid tan lines and before I knew it I was on the Very website looking at flip flops and then didn’t stock my size in Havaianas and then after three hours of scrolling for stupid flip flops, I just went for plain black, hit order and logged out.

I wasn’t even excited when they arrived. I opened the bag and there, staring back at me, were Crocs. Not Crocs like, Crocs. They’re not mules that you slip your feet into. They don’t have air holes in the front, nor a strap that goes around the heel. They don’t have Crocs written anywhere on them bar the sole, and they don’t have the logo. Oh God, I bought Crocs, didn’t I? Shit.

The weather stayed warm and so I wore them, making sure to hide them from my teen in case she started legal proceedings against me. It’s been three weeks and so far, so good. Having published this, I won’t be surprised to find my secret Crocs have been kidnapped like in some summer sandal version of Taken. I can’t see Liam Neeson turning up to rescue my flip flops. Can you?

From crocs to geese! Yesterday I wrote about The Untitled Goose Game on Nintendo Switch and oh my days, it’s so addictive! The other worrying aspect of this game is realising that acting like a complete asshat is actually really fun! Scaring a kid into a phone box by honking at him, stealing household items from the shop, lobbing a pint glass in the canal, and smashing valuable vases is a riot! Anyone else played it yet? What do you think?

Where do the Giant Strawberries fit into all this, you may be wondering. It’s simple really. I managed to get a shed load of work done today, loads of research, I’ve started making more progress on HHT Kids too. Funding, set up, content creation, talking to our website designers, getting the ball rolling with organisation status, etc. I’ve cooked, cleaned, emailed, called, text, typed, and listened. All-day long. (Still no strawberries?!)

At 5:30pm we packed up some snacks and headed out to a new park for an alfresco dinner and some exercise. I met the cutest dog, annoyed my boyfriend by calling him for no good reason, took loads of photographs, hid my little boy as he took a quick leak in the bushes, and cycled home. Bit of TV and everyone into bed.

Here I am, trying to not rustle the packet of Giant Strawberries I told the kids must have ‘fallen out of the bag at the park’ so I don’t have to share them. The old ones are the best!

 

 

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