Summertime… and the living is easy

Christmas on Sapphire Beach

This will be remembered as the summer holiday where Dylan discovered books. Chapter books that grip you ‘til the very end. Unfortunately he can’t read, so it is also the summer holiday that Jason and I tag-teamed on endless chapters of Fantastic Mr Fox and the Usborne book of Illustrated Stories for Boys.

It will also be remembered as the holiday where Sam slept in a big boy bed for the first time. A trundle bed that rolled beneath Pete’s study daybed. Much comfier than the travel cot, but the cause of desperate attempts to get him to stay there at night time. Up and down, up and down until after 9pm most nights. We dropped the day naps in the end.

It is the first holiday where Dylan and Sam have really played together, constantly and for long periods even though it usually ends in tears. Setting up camps and schools on the deck, digging enormous holes on the beach. Sam really missed sharing a room with his big brother, and on the first morning woke him up with a hearty “I miss you, Di-Da!” Poor Dylan was lucky to get any sleep-ins at all, Sam was always so keen to set off to the beach (with his big brother) from the moment he awoke.

The soundtrack to this summer holiday includes Jingle Bells (sung by Sam, nosily), It’s Raining Men (which Dylan and Sam think is a hilarious concept) and Sk8ter Boi, which Dylan thinks is all about him, as Santa came good on the promise of a skateboard. This hasn’t been tested on a ramp yet though – its main purpose so far is as a make believe car ferry boat transporting matchbox cars up and down the deck. I’m quite happy to leave it this way.

Santa found us, thanks to the various notes Dylan carefully left around the house. He was instructed (by Dylan) to leave his gifts at the foot of the wood burning stove. Dylan explained to me earnestly that Santa would definitely fit down the narrow chimney “’cos it’s magic, mum”. Sam preferred all of Dylan’s presents to his own, but was quite happy with his Lightning McQueen racing track once the batteries made it work.

We've fit our usual north coast activities in between many trips to the beach and lazy afternoons on the deck. Mooching around Bellingen estate agent windows, pretending we have enough cash to buy a Promised Land retreat. Coffee at Riverstone and Lodge 241 cafes, the butterfly maze, the steam train at Glenreagh and the not-quite-as-exciting mini railway at the Clog Barn. We have managed to avoid the Big Banana, apart from the thrilling game of being the first to shout Bingo! when we see it on our many trips back and forth.

Today was the day of the Big Wave – the tsunami of Sapphire that knocked Dylan off his feet and sent Sam wailing. It took out the whole beach shoreline and swept our beach bag out to sea. Luckily Jason rescued a damp copy of Fantastic Mr Fox, otherwise we would never know what happened next.

Crashing back to reality, via the holiday traffic snarl, on Tuesday. It has been such a good break I can hardly bear to think about it. Happy New Year!

Back to school

Yesterday was Dylan's first day at his new school, Sam's first day at his new child care and my first day at work.

And what a difference for Dylan, compared with his first day at Hilltop Infants School in England just 10 months ago. For a start, it was warm and sunny and we were more concerned with sunscreen than padded coats and wellies. His pre-school is in the grounds of Annandale Public School, where he will start kindy next January. It takes about 3 minutes to walk from our house, depending on how quickly the traffic lights change on Johnson St - not a 15 minutes drive behind a slow tractor to Ashbourne.

He and Sam were so excited, with their school backpacks and gear, that we were running about an hour ahead of schedule - no mean feat on a Monday morning. Sam raced off to play with the trains at nursery, without so much as a backwards glance - the extra time I had allowed to settle him in was completely unnecessary. So Dylan and I hung out at the school playground for over half an hour, checking out the big kids in their school uniforms. It was the longest 40 minutes of my life, he was just so keen to get to his new class and meet his new friends.

There is no school uniform this year, and two huge playgrounds just for the pre-school. The outside space definitely appeals to him after all the rain and indoor days in England. But of course I have to negotiate the hat wearing - no hat, no outside play in this part of the world.

That afternoon when I picked him up I asked him who he had played with and what he had done that day. Rather than the sullen "no one... nothing" that I usually get, he rushed to tell me about the bike track, the silk worms, the stories, the toys. "And mum... we didn't do reading and writing at all - we just play ALL DAY."

Well, I guess he should make the most of it. Next year will mark the beginning of his 12 years at school. And that is a daunting thought for us all. Now I just have to work out how to compress my work day into the 5 1/2 hours the school run allows me. All advice welcome!

Home sweet home...

It didn't take much for Dylan and Sam to re-adjust to life in Sydney. Two weeks of sunshine, beaches, swimming pools and boat trips, and Yew Tree Cottage, horses, lambs and rolling green hills have been all but forgotten.

Sam still describes his plane journey to everyone who will listen: "I went up in the sky... wooosh... and then down boom boom". This version of events equates perfectly to his experience as he fell asleep as soon as we took off in Singapore, and only woke up when we landed in Sydney with a bump (boom boom). Dylan has slight traces of his English accent, but it is disappearing quickly as he picks up with his old friends again in the playgrounds of the inner west.

For me, though, the re-adjustment has been slightly harder. First of all the crashing reality of unpacking our former life, all musty and mildewy. Once the dust cleared and the boot loads of stuff I forgot we ever had and no longer needed had been taken away - to the tip or to charity, depending on their mould levels - things felt slightly more real. And of course it has been wonderful to see all our friends and family again... but I must admit to the occasional longing for the cosy aga (even when the temperature outside soars to bushfire levels), and wishing we had done a few more of the many things on my "to do list" in Derbyshire.

Which means, of course, that this blog is not over, as our eight feet are still itching to various degrees. Maybe they will travel more across Australia for the next year or so, or maybe we will find a way to get abroad again soon. What I do know now is:

• Travelling with small children gets easier as they get older (what a huge difference between flying with Sam at 16 months, and again at 2 and a bit.)


• Always stopover. Sentosa Island is the perfect place for kids to break the London to Sydney route. Dubai may be the answer for Australia to Europe flight (let me know!) Either way, the result is no jetlag (yes, truly, NO jetlag) and that makes for happy mums and dads.

So... stay tuned for more Howard family adventures!

Dismantling a life - part 2

I am sitting in an empty house, putting off cleaning windows and skirting boards for another hour. We have 4 suitcases and 3 beds, 2 folding garden chairs and a portable DVD player. That's about it. The beds will be picked up over the next 2 days, the chairs will be donated, and then we move on to a serviced apartment in Derby, then the Heathrow Novotel (via Legoland), and then onto our plane - homeward bound.

I have felt strangely serene since the packers took away most of our stuff. Now I can see past the piles of accumulated possessions to the final tasks in our move. The smallest details occupy my mind in the wee small hours - where is my Australian mobile sim card, what is my Westpac pin number, how can I thank all Dylan's teachers and friends and school?

Dylan told everyone at school on Monday that we were leaving the next day. I can see how he made the mistake - the momentum of the sorting and packing over the weekend, knowing the shippers were coming that day and the repeated mantra "not long now..." whenever he fussed. But his headmistress cornered me on Tuesday morning to say goodbye, along with all the parents and other teachers. She was visibly relieved when I explained he would be there until Friday, as his favourite teacher from last term, Mrs Fearn, had been almost in tears at the thought she wouldn't be able to say goodbye to him.

Maybe he is just milking the attention for all it's worth. But there is no doubt that the emotional strain of another move is also showing in him. Sam of course, has no clue what is happening - except that most of his toys have vanished. He seems to be just as happy playing with an empty toilet roll and a toothbrush though.

Dylan's first words as he came home from school on Monday were "let's play trains!" I explained the trains were gone, in the container. "Oh. Well, can I ride my scooter?" Also gone. "What? Well can I have some juice in the spiral cup?" Also gone. Even his bed sheets had been packed, he is sleeping under a naked duvet. We had the momentary "where's bunny?" panic that night, wondering if Sam's essential best friend bunny had also been shipped in the container by mistake. But thankfully Sam had just carefully packed bunny into his on-board-wheelie-suitcase.

One of Dylan's last English adventures was a boys weekend in London with Daddy. Very grown up, taking the train down and staying in a hotel for the night. I was rather jealous! They managed to fit in the Tower of London, Changing of the Guards, Buckingham Palace, Science Museum and of course Hamley's - as well as rides on buses, tubes, taxis and trains. Hamley's ("the world's finest toy store") will remain Dylan's all time favourite thing about this country, and I wonder if it will be his first stop when he returns aged 18 with a backpack, in his gap year?

Dismantling a life

We have less than two weeks left in Yew Tree Cottage. My heart sinks as I type this fact. Mainly because the sorting and the packing looms largely above me, but also because I really will miss this cosy cottage. And lately it has seemed far more important to enjoy these last few days watching the horses practise their jumps outside the conservatory window, or play swirly tennis with Dylan and Sam in the garden, or discover yet another fabulous national trust home on our doorstep, than actually getting down to the nuts and bolts of dismantling our life here.

I have already had 14 successful eBay auctions, and promised most of the furniture to an assortment of friends. The rest can go to charity shops (or be dumped with those same friends) in our last week. The packers arrive next Monday morning to send the things we do want to keep back to Sydney on a slow boat.

The only logistical hiccup seems to be getting rid of the two cars - not only have we not had a single call from our autotrader ad, but one also suffered some serious rear bumper damage last week when some @#$% swiped it reversing out of the carpark. No note was left, so we must suffer the excess and also the trauma of convincing the garage to fit it in for repair before a buyer (hopefully) appears.

We have had so many uniquely English experiences that it seems appropriate to list them now, before I forget in the trauma of my post-long-haul-flight-with-kids-disorder...

• Playing russian roulette turning right on a hedge lined road (I now wind down my windows so I can hear oncoming traffic, since I have no hope of seeing it until it is too late)


• Long summer evenings (pretending it is warm) enjoying a pint of local ale while the kids play on the pub's playground equipment


• Watching "our" horses gallop across "our" field as the sun sets over the hills


• Waking up to a pile of dry laundry on the Aga, which if I fold it correctly (it's a knack) doesn't need ironing


• Scrambled eggs made from freshly laid eggs by the chooks next door (thanks to Farmer Les for dropping them around)


• The delights of an Ocado delivery (friendly, prompt, with divine Waitrose food sorted into colour coded bags and delivered to my fridge)


• The school run, through winding tree tunnels, spotting sheep and cows amidst the dramatic peaks and dales

And what will the boys miss? Sam will wonder where all the tractors, sheep and cows are. But he will love pointing at the planes and buses instead. Dylan will miss his mates, it has to be said. And he will miss the history and museums we have been able to enjoy. But I think a ferry ride, a trip to the beach, chicken and chips from Balmain Spitroast, and a decent coffee from Hopscotch will make us all very, very happy indeed.

The long and winding road...

We set off from Ashbourne in glorious sunshine and the promise of a summer day. As we crossed the border into Scotland 3 hours later, rain sheeted across the windscreen and I started to regret my choice of shorts and sandals. "It's atmospheric," said Jason, gesturing at the heather topped hills. By which I understood that it was bleak, cold and unremittingly gloomy.

After a night at the Keating's enormous Scottish home, overlooking Loch Long just north of Glasgow, we all set off on a road trip to the Mull of Kintyre. A three hour journey along the famous 'long and winding road', with stunning views of atmospheric mountains at a place aptly named Rest and Be Thankful, and a coastal drive that could rival the Great Ocean Road.

Three adults and six kids - we grown-ups were seriously outnumbered. The children were excited to run amok in Brian's most recent acquisition, the slightly decaying Royal Hotel on the waterfront at Campbeltown. As the only occupants of the 40 room hotel (due to actually re-open after renovations in 2008), there were plenty of good opportunities for hide and seek.

Dylan developed his golf game at Macrahanish, one of the worlds best links courses. He preferred the putting green, where he could avoid sudden squalls. Then we all walked along the sand dunes that flank Brian's own golf course development.

That night we were entertained lavishly at an amazing manor house overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It was filled with antiques and artwork, and (thankfully) the tribe of kids behaved impeccably. Our hostess had thought Brian was joking when he suggested he turn up with all of us, but she managed to put together a fabulous dinner at a moments notice! Driving back to Glasgow through Inverary, we stopped to check out the castle, home of the Argyll family, which was only slightly grander.

Dylan loved Scotland - he seemed to show a real affinity to the accent, the climate and the golf. Perhaps it is the "Douglas" of his middle name emerging. But when I asked him what he liked best about it, he answered "the sweetshop at Campbeltown..."

Birthday Bliss

Dylan's birthday couldn't have been more perfect. A glorious English summer day greeted us as we rose with two over-excited boys at 6am to start the present opening. Early morning sunlight over horse field and hills has made a rather special back drop for birthday celebrations this year, it won't be quite the same in our Annandale living room.

The lucky birthday boy was thrilled with his pile of presents, including a Lego aeroplane, Playmobil boat, Meccano Concorde and racing car, mini cars and a Lazytown lunch pack and DVD. Jason was unable to resist spending the next few hours constructing the lego plane with him.

Jason spontaneously then took the day off to join us at Dylan's special picnic at Chatsworth. We met Dylan's friends from school, Callum and Sam, and their sisters and mums, at the gates to the farmyard/adventure playground. We could have spent all day just there - the farmyard is like a mini-easter show, complete with tractor rides, and the playground is one of the best I have ever seen. It includes a huge sandpit, waterplay driven by the brook and waterfall nearby, trampolines and a flying fox.

After our picnic lunch, candle-blowing out, and tractor ride around the vast 1000 acre estate (where we spotted a herd of young deer), we walked over to the main house and gardens. The house dates back to the early 16th century, and is quite stunning. But the main attraction for us was the long fountain, which flowed down steps from a grotto house towards the main house. All the childrem splashed about in the fountain's chilly shallow water while we ate ice-cream (made on the estate by Chatsworth cows) and admired the views.

On the way home we all stopped for a pub dinner at the Grouse and Claret in Rowsley, perfect for kids with a playground in the sunny back garden. Dylan has never looked happier as he did that day, basking in the glory of grown-up-five-year-old status with his best friends. It will be a hard birthday to beat next year, when he will be at school on a wintery Thursday.

Back to the Great British Summer...

We spent an almost-sunny afternoon at one of our favourite local country pubs, the Okeover Arms at Mapleton. They were hosting their annual beer festival, which turned out to be a great way to try local ales, listen to some folk and jazz musicians and check out the resident medieval enthusiast's archery and sword-fighting displays.

Like train anoraks, these enthusiasts seem to be a feature of most English rural leisure activities. Whether it is pirates re-enacting legends, or knights re-enacting historic battles, so many people are willing to share their passion for history (or train engine numbers) with others. I wonder if a pub beer festival in Australia would have much more than beer, and maybe cricket on the telly?

In any case, Dylan loved trying his hand at archery, and we learned about the history of hunting falcons from a man dressed in tights and a cape. He had set up a tent camp in the pub grounds in the period style of 1450-1510 (quite specific), had 3 tame falcons on display, and was at the time roasting a pig on a spit. Jason and I enjoyed a few pints of really good local ales while the kids played on the playground equipment (we do love pubs that cater so well for children!)

Now that the weather has improved, we have enjoyed lots of summer holiday adventures locally. One of the highlights was the National Tramway Museum at Crich (about 20 minutes drive), which had beautifully restored double-decker trams to ride up and down and old quarry line, and a lovely village setting. Again, the tram enthusiasts were in full force, with volunteers acting as conductors and useful sources of endless tramway knowledge.

Dylan is counting down the days to his fifth birthday (4 sleeps to go now...) and is already using his "birthday boy" status to as much advantage as he can get away with. The anticipation of the event tends to be excruciating for him. He is becoming quite a serious boy, with a strong sense of moral justice - he likes everyone to stick to the rules, and woe betide the friend who falsely accuses him of some wrong-doing. He is currently obsessed with all things scientific (dangerous animals, maps & geography, space, and how things work generally). He also loves pokemon, lazytown, superman and football.

He had a football holiday camp during the week, and was so reluctant to go I thought he had actually gone off the sport altogether. But the interest was renewed when he was awarded a special trophy during the last day presentation, for winning the penalty shoot-out. It was the first time a Bendall descendant in 4 generations had received a sporting award, so it was quite a proud moment for me. Obviously the Howard genes have something to do with that one.

After the football triumph, I took both the boys swimming at the local pool. I watched Sam admire his big brothers swimming style, then he took his armbands off and within minutes had plunged headfirst into the toddler pool, arms flailing madly. He must have forgotten that, unlike Dylan, he can't actually swim. I raced towards him but Dylan got there first (prompted by my screaming) and pulled him out to safety. The first time (and possibly not the last) he has saved his brother. He swings between love and adoration of Sam ("he's so cute") to brotherly disgust ("he's a rubbish little brother"). Luckily it was a loving moment that time.

Ah, brothers... when they play together it is just gorgeous. But it usually ends in tears and fighting pretty quickly. I guess that's just how it will be from now on.

Rain, rain, go away

The sun came out just long enough yesterday to almost dry out our lawn. I urged Jason to get out there with the mower before the grass threatened to engulf our home and several small animals. Sure enough, as soon as the last of the grass cuttings were squeezed into our green bin, the heavens opened yet again and down came the rain.

Now, I know I should count my blessings. I am not stuck on the M5 motorway overnight because flood-struck traffic is at a standstill. I did not have to wade in waist-deep water to the shops for emergency water supplies. My children were not stuck on the roof of their school waiting for helicopter rescue. All these things have happened to English people just to the south of us in the past few days (and just to the north of us in previous weeks). No, I am Just Sick Of The Rain.

I blame Tony Blair for leaving office. Vineyards flourished in Yorkshire during his 10-year term of globally warmed weather. No sooner does Gordon Brown step in but the depths of a miserable Scottish Highland storm descend on the nation. A summer of dour gloom indeed. (apologies to all Scots who thinks their weather is perfectly fine, thank you very much)

It seems that extreme weather is the new norm for all of us, whether we live in Tewkesbury-under-water, severe-heatwave struck Spain or bitterly cold wintery Sydney. But the impact is for carbon-footprint aware Poms to immediately buy any remaining ticket they can find on a jet plane heading as far south as they can in search of the sun... fuelling further carbon emissions into the atmosphere. Forget the claims that "Northumberland is the new Riviera" - reality has hit home with a vengeance and those who chose to holiday at home are wearing wellies rather than bikinis.

As for us... well Dylan's school holidays have just begun and I will take advantage of any non-rainy moment to tour the rest of the midlands before we head back to Sydney spring. Yesterday we took a wonderful steam train ride along the Churnet Valley (in Staffordshire), with brightly coloured canal boats alongside the train tracks. And our August family holiday will be spent in... Scotland. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Ciao Toscana

A week in the Tuscan hills was just what we needed - a reminder that the sun is actually shining, and even hot, elsewhere in Europe. Our farmhouse apartment was perfect (http://www.toscana-vaianino.it/farmhouse.htm). Incredible views over the hills, vineyards and ancient town of Volterra, which lit up in the most extraordinary colours at sunset. A sparkling pool that the kids loved to splash in. Enough space for us all to get some rest at night. And the company of our friends the Holmes a Courts, with whom we created a formidable travelling tribe around the neighbouring towns... 4 parents, 6 kids and one nanny.

Dylan loved the medieval festival in the castle town of Monteriggioni - a late night party with knights re-enacting battles, large hunks of wild boar and lots of dressing up. The next day all the kids staged their own mock battles in the streets of Volterra with their new wooden shields. We also explored Florence... fabulous shopping, where I am sure I heard Sam utter his first full sentence "You don't need more shoes, mama." Jason thinks it was just my subconscious. Dylan was impressed with the Ponte Vecchio, although he would have preferred it lined with toy shops, not jewellery shops. Neither he or Will had much good to say about the statue of David. "It's just a man with no clothes on!"

Dylan also loved climbing the tower of San Gimignano with Jason, while Sam and I checked out the best gelato in Italy and blew bubbles in the piazza.

But of course the main reason for the trip was Ian and Julie's wedding on the Thursday. A magical night in the most amazing Italian villa, which dated back to the 16th century and had connections to the Medicis, the second world war and the Italian film industry of the 20th century. It was great to catch up with so many old friends around the pool that evening, even though our babysitting obligations meant we couldn't fully partake in all the wild celebrations - which were only just beginning when we left at midnight. Aaah, I remember the days... The kids were excited to join in the recovery BBQ the next day, and kept everyone busy in the pool.

Dylan and Sam both learned to say "Ciao!" and returned with a new found love of pizza. Making new friends was definitely a plus for them, and they can't wait to see them again when we get back to Australia. I could have done with another few days over there... now we are back, the 2 months remaining looms like a logistical nightmare deadline. If I can just stay in denial for another 6 weeks, all will be good.

Flying high in Bristol

Dylan finally realised his dream of boarding a Concorde during our recent weekend in Bristol. Jason pre-booked a tour of the Concorde Museum at Filton, where they were manufactured until recently. The tour guide was impressed with Dylan's knowledge, and that he had brought his Concorde fact book with him. Dylan loved seeing the cockpit and the toilets on board. It was definitely a highlight of his stay here, although he is disappointed we can't fly one home to Sydney.

He pointed out that if Britain had teamed up with Australia to develop it, instead of France, it would probably still be flying.

Why Bristol? I had a meeting with a writing agency there, about setting up their Australian office when we get back. It seemed like a good idea to make a weekend of it - Jason and I had never been before. And although it was cold and wet (like everywhere else in England for the past 6 weeks...) it was a great destination. A harbour town, with seagulls and history, and easy to walk about.

We stayed at the Novotel, which actually did prove to be a good family-friendly choice. I am always a little nervous when we are all stuck in one small room, but the boys were on best hotel-behaviour form, and especially loved the buffet breakfasts. They happily played in the hotel bar with some kids who turned out to be from Bellingen, of all places. You just can't get away from these Aussies!

After (damply) walking around the harbour restaurants and cafes, we opted for some history at the excellent Museum of Empire and Commonwealth. A special exhibition commemorated the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade in Britain. Jason and I found it fascinating, the kids not so much and I am still trying to work out the exact connection with Bristol. It's hard to read a full sentence in a museum if Dylan is bored...

The next morning we had coffee in the lovely village suburb of Clifton, famous for Brunel's suspension bridge (which we braved strong winds to walk across) and then began our journey home. My poor car started overheating and had to be towed from Worcester - so a 2 hour drive turned into 7. The boys enjoyed their ride in the back of a tow truck for the first 10 minutes at least.

And now we are busy packing yet again... off to Tuscany tomorrow, where every weather report I look at guarantees sunshine. Hooray!

Living the life in London

If you are going to spend 4 days in London with two small boys, then taking over Rachel and Kieron's life is probably the best way to do it. They kindly loaned us their 5 bedroom Clapham Common home, complete with toys, scooters and pushchair, and their BMW chelsea-tractor complete with sat-nav, while they escaped to the much warmer and drier climate of Italy.

The sat-nav is probably still recovering from Jason's blatant ignoring of all instructions to get us from south of the river to Highgate - but what can you expect when she insisted on going via Camden Town on a Saturday, which we know to be feral-market day? By the end of the stay we were sold on her talents and also on the idea of avoiding the tube at all costs when it is cold and wet with tots in tow. The car made it easy to do quick drive-bys of our old London life; Primrose Hill, Waterlow Park and our old Highgate flat. We tried to imagine living there with children now, but the sight of mums pushing toddlers around in plastic covered buggies while also holding the super-marketing and an umbrella definitely looked grim.

The highlight was probably our only attempt at tourist-behaviour, a trip on the London Eye. Both boys were absolutely thrilled with every minute of our journey around the skies of London in a glass pod on the giant ferris wheel - not at all scared. It was a great way to give them some sense of the city.

Also on our hit-list was the Princess Diana memorial playground (absolutely brilliant until the sudden downpour), Battersea Park Zoo (an hidden gem for little kids, especially the brilliant meerkat enclosures with a tunnel where you could crawl in amongst them) and the Science Museum (I'll just say I would have preferred to be across the road at the V&A - but the boys loved all things to do with space and motoring).

We did of course catch a few double decker buses, and succumbed to the idea of showing Dylan the biggest toy shop in the world, Hamley's on Regent St - which surprisingly didn't cost us a fortune, but unsurprisingly is the only reason he can give us for returning to London while we are still here. 5 floors of toys were covered by Jason and Dylan in just 45 minutes - while Sam and I cruised the much hipper Carnaby St.

When we met at the bus stop later, Dylan proudly presented Sam with the small toy he had selected for him - a tractor. "Yay, Dee-da!" squealed Sam, delightedly. I was just as delighted with my quick spree at Muji and Ollie & Nic around the corner.

We returned by train, in a carriage full of camped out scouts who turend out to be useful babysitters during the 2 hour journey. It could have been a lot worse - they could have been mud-drenched Glastonbury evacuees. Sam is still obsessed with the train journey and tells everyone he meets that he, Dada, Mama and Dee-da went on a choo-choo. He loved it.

Happy Birthday to Sam!

Thankfully the torrential rain eased off just long enough to enjoy Sam's birthday party in our garden. And surprisingly, the party karma gods did not reward me with small muddy shoe prints all over the white carpets. Phew!

It has been a busy social week for us Howards, but especially for Dylan. On Wednesday he had his first swimming lesson of the term - he has been moved up a class thanks to his Aussie head start and it is certainly more challenging for him. On Thursday the entire school had an excursion to the theatre in Stoke on Trent to see Beauty and the Beast. The highlight was of course the coach trip there and back, but by all accounts he also loved the show. On Friday he had his first afternoon at the after school club (again, the mini bus pick-up being the highlight) and then the event of the year - the Hilltop School disco.

It was supposed to be a Family Fun Picnic, but the flood waters put an end to that. You could sail a boat across the playground. However, in true stiff upper lip Brit style, dozens of families laid out their picnic rugs in the school hall and classrooms, and enjoyed their picnic dinner, a magician show, and the crazy 80's retro music disco. Dylan's classroom turned into an impromptu bar, and all the kids ran riot with faces painted and new (fake) tattoos.

On Saturday the sun magically came out and dried out our overgrown lawn - just enough for the 15 kids and their parents to enjoy the garden during Sam's birthday party. The horses stole the show from Dizzy the Wizard - every time she performed a magic trick, Eric, the huge white horse, would come right up to the conservatory window and all the kids would race over to him. Dylan was an exceptionally talented magician's assistant during the show, and Sam just obsessed over the chocolate bars he had noticed stashed in her magic treasure box. He loved blowing out his birthday candles (and can now say "birthday", which to him seems to mean "more cake, please").

And then this morning, Sam finally turned two. Dylan managed to patiently wait until both Sam and Daddy had enough of a sleep in (it being Fathers Day here also) - 7.15am by my watch. Then he helped Sam unwrap his presents, which they both loved - and we now have enough fire engines, bendy buses and other emergency vehicles to keep them busy for, oh... at least 10 minutes. Jason's fathers day present was to put together the rather complicated Playmobil farmhouse, which puts an Ikea flatpack to shame. Then the boys and I went to Carsington Water for an ice-cream, paddle by the lake and playground fun. Dylan impressed us all with his improved pebble skimming abilities, which he declared to be the result of the extra strength gained from his dinosaur tattoo.

A wonderful birthday week, and now it's all over again until next year. Thank goodness Dylan has decided he wants his birthday party at the indoor play centre - a huge reduction on my events planning workload!

Growing up...

Little Sam is almost two. Dylan is beside himself with excitement about this, as

a) Sam will get presents, and Dylan will benefit directly from this

b) He gets to help me organise Sam's birthday party (last night we packed the party bags together)

We seem to have reached that turning point when they have finally become brothers; playing together, fighting together, making up crazy dance routines together, and squabbling over whether it's Sam's turn to watch Fireman Sam or Dylan's turn to watch Pokemon. Luckily they can watch both simultaneously, thanks to the portable DVD player.

It's a cliche, but Sam has suddenly grown up so quickly and I wanted to record his developing personality for posterity:

Favourite people: mummy, dada and dee-dee (Dylan)

Favourite thing: Bunny (he goes everywhere and could do with a wash quite frankly)

Favourite TV show: Fireman Sam (we suspect Sam thinks he IS Fireman Sam and loves being "the hero next door")

Favourite Song: In These Shoes - Kirsty Macoll - my iPod is still avoiding the wiggles, but Sam loves a number he can dance to and I love watching him sing "in dese soos?" (points to his own sandals) "i don't sink so"

Favourite word: tractor

Best friend (in England): Lola, who is nearly 3 and tackle-cuddles him whenever she can get close enough. All the little girls in Dylan's class are madly in love with him too.

Best talent: Napping (I can type this as he is having a 3 hour day nap - I'd better wake him, really)

Worst talent: Falling over and bumping his head (ouchie!)

Favourite Day: Tuesday, as it is Tots playgroup at Dylan's school

Favourite singalong: loves doing the "sleeping bunny" dance and jumping around with Dylan to the Lazytown theme tune

Happiest when: Dylan takes any notice of him

Saddest when: Dylan eats the last jelly pot

Fingers crossed for a sunny day on Saturday... We have 15 small children, their parents and Dizzy the Wizard coming to Yew Tree Cottage - all to celebrate two years of Sam Howard. Hard to imagine life without him, really!

Trams, bikes and boats...

It is a fair bet that Sam would not have picked up the word "boat" so quickly without our recent trip to Amsterdam. There are precious few of them around landlocked Derbyshire - Holland on the other hand delighted both the boys with it's range of transportation possibilities.

"Bike" was also a word I heard frequently from my almost-two-year-old's mouth, and there did seem to be more of those than people. In fact, Jason and I wondered whether anyone would notice if we took two of the more abandoned looking ones home. We have been rather unsuccessful with our attempt to buy bikes on eBay, so miserly is our bidding.

Our last day there was perfect and just as I imagined it would be - strolling along cobbled lanes in the dappled early summer sunshine, enjoying the markets, parks and playgrounds, drinking great coffee and even the quick dash into the quirky Amsterdam boutiques I adore.

Unfortunate, then, that the rest of our stay was cold, windy and wet. Not ideal sightseeing weather with kids, but they probably would have been happy to ride around on trams and canal boats all day long. Which is pretty much what we did, apart from one diversion to the whacky NEMO (science museum), which was filled with over-excited Dutch kids...

Despite my friends' suggestion that "a couple of stoned kids would make for a relaxing holiday" we could not, even if we had wanted to, go with that option. To escape yet another downpour, I rushed into what looked like a groovy little cafe in the Jordaan neighbourhood with Dylan, only to be greeted with the stern face of the owner "no, no under-18s allowed". As if the whiff I had caught opening the door hadn't already given that away. So we had to make do with the rather more downmarket cafe further up the road, breathing in toxic tobacco smoke and wrestling a small dog away from Sam's battered bunny.

We did have a great time, and the boys were both so excited by all the things to see around them - being in a vibrant city again was refreshing after the isolation of Yew Tree Cottage. Just being able to eat out at an Italian restaurant around the block was a novelty.

One lesson learned though, was our accommodation. We booked an apartment online, which I had understood from the text and photos to be a one-bedroom, but turned out to be a studio with the worlds smallest toilet and two single beds - so Jason and I (separately) enjoyed three nights of Sam's disturbed travel-cot snoring, as well as a dawn-wakening thanks to the lack of blinds on a south facing window. The heating didn't work - which ordinarily would not be a problem in late May in Amsterdam, but it was unseasonably cold and one of the windows didn't shut properly. We finally, on our last night, got one of the rental agency people to drop over an electric heater. They cheerfully informed us by text as we boarded our flight that all problems had been fixed. Well, that was a relief for us then!

We clearly have a few more travelling-with-kids lessons to learn before our next adventure in Tuscany. I'll just got check on that villa description again...

21st Century Student

Twelve years after graduating, I am suddenly a university student again. And let me tell you, it is a strange, brave new world indeed.

20th century student caught two buses and a train to a university campus for scheduled lectures and tutorials. She didn't have an email address or access to the internet. She researched her essays using microfiche in the campus library. And she spent most of her time chatting with friends on the library lawn.

21st century student studies entirely online. There are 23 other students in her class, but she doesn't know what they look like. She doesn't even know where most of them are - they could be anywhere in the UK or even overseas. She does know that some of them like to identify themselves with a sleek black cat icon or a cobweb. But what she can deduce about their character from that remains unclear.

I am taking a 12 week course with Open University on Writing for the Internet. On my first official day, I downloaded some conferencing software, logged on and then struggled to find my tutorial group - memorably titled A171 07E R04 bld4 TG. I clicked my way through icon after icon, feeling nostalgic for the disinfected corridors of UNSW where you could at least ask a real live human being for help if you were lost. At last! I found a message from my tutor and discovered I was by no means the last to arrive.

I then spent a few frustrating hours searching for the Tangential Cafe, where apparently arts students could "meet" for a "chat". A huge anticlimax when I finally worked it out, as most of the other students were;
a) also lost, and
b) not on my course, and
c) only interested in chatting about movies they had seen recently

I now realise why, even on "real" campuses, mature age students don't waste their time in the cafes, or on the library lawn.

Anyway, one week in and I am slowly working it out. I'm sitting on a train to London, listening to my downloaded lectures on my iPod. I can research my assignments by logging into the Open University library and accessing any number of journals and articles. I look around at all the busy businesspeople in their suits, conversing earnestly about meeting dates and deadlines. And I realise I love being a student.

Almost as much as I love being a full time mum and wannabe writer. It's a busy life. But in a good way.

No pain... no gain...

Yes, this really is me on a bike; Jason hasn't photoshopped it. It did occur to me, as we set off along the Tissington Trail from Ashbourne, that perhaps my first attempt to ride a bike in over 20 years should have been without my precious 22 month old child strapped to the back. But he had every confidence in me, so off we went.

3 1/2 uphill miles later, against strong headwinds, we finally made it to the lovely village of Tissington for a well earned ice cream. It was yet another glorious day, and as we coasted back (those uphill miles already forgotten) I decided it might be worth investing in some second hand bikes for our remaining time here.

We have finally confirmed our return date. We do advise everyone else in the world to avoid flying Heathrow to Singapore on September 18th, unless they are willing to risk spending 14 hours saying "hello" and "bye bye" to Sam. This gives us only 4 1/2 more months to cram in a lot of European travel. Jason has also forbidden me to buy any more stuff, as packing up Yew Tree Cottage is already going to be a logistical nightmare. I am trying not to think about it...

I did manage to avoid buying an Anya Hindmarch "I am not a plastic bag", although not by choice. 20,000 of the £5 recyclable shopping bags were released to Sainsbury's stores last Wednesday, and I optimistically phoned the Ashbourne branch at 8.10am to see if they had received any. "They sold out within 5 mintes of opening" said the supermarket manager. Shortly afterwards, over 400 appeared on eBay, selling for as much as £200!

Later that night, we saw some wit had listed an original "I AM a plastic bag" (a quality white plastic bag with "I am a plastic bag" scrawled over it in thick black pen) - and already had a bidder willing to pay 99p for it (plus £2 postage). I am not sure who benefits most from this brilliant marketing exercise - Sainsbury's, Anya Hindmarch, the recycling bags movement or eBay?

Jersey Days

Before Dylan's chicken-spots appeared (but while he was unknowingly highly contagious) we had a delightful 5 day break on the island of Jersey. It was the first time we had packed wellies and beanies for a beach holiday - and we needed them too, as it was unseasonably chilly and windy. But we had enough bright blue sky days to enjoy our seaside experience, after over 4 months in landlocked Derbyshire.

Just off the French coast of Normandy, Jersey is an odd blend of quaint England and rural France. All streets are named in French, although no one speaks that language, and the houses are a mis-match of elegant, shuttered, pastel painted French homes and pebble-dashed English seaside semis. If England had at some point invaded France this is what it would look like - a France with pubs, tea and scones.

Dylan loved climbing over the rocks (in his wellies - a bit trickier than gripping with bare feet), looking for fish and crabs in the rockpools, and digging sand castles. I enjoyed the beachside cafes with homemade cakes and good coffee. The dramatic tides were remarkable, changing the landscape of the beach (and the accessibility of boats and small island lookouts) within an hour.

A highlight was the Norman castle, Mont Orgeuil, with it's breathtaking views over the village of Gorey ("it looks just like Balamory!" exclaimed Dylan) and the east coast of the island. Dylan and Sam dressed up as knights and jesters and loved exploring all the steep staircases and heavily fortressed rooms.

Durrell Wildlife Sanctuary was also a great experience - founded by Gerard Durrell, the Steve Irwin of England (just substitute tweed felt hat for khaki shorts). An amazing collection of rare animals, from orang-utangs and gorillas to lemurs and flamingoes. As it was a particularly freezing morning we kept to the humid indoor enclosures (ie reptiles) as much as possible.

Since our return, the weather has of course improved dramatically - the mercury crept over 20 degrees today and we all wore shorts to celebrate. Jason fired up our new BBQ for the second time in a week. Bring on summer!

Lambs, chocolate eggs, sunshine - it must be Easter!

Dylan woke on Easter morning covered in spots. A long phone call with NHS direct later, it was clear he had chicken pox (it has been going around the school...) It didn't deter him from a constant vigil for the Easter Bunny, and a very excited egg hunt after the bunny (undetected) made his visit, but sadly he didn't feel like eating much chocolate. Sam, on the other hand, had to be physically restrained from stuffing all the easter eggs into his little mouth at once. Sam is now a big fan of Easter.

Dylan is coping very bravely with all his itchy spots (he is a veteran of itchiness) - he has seen most of his friends go through this so it is a sort of rite of passage for him. But it is pretty awful, and we have to cancel his much anticipated Easter Party on Wednesday. I had already bought the food and organised a beautiful sunny day (18 degrees forecast!) so I think I am more upset than he is.

It has been the most glorious Easter weekend - balmy 16 degree temps (which, given the summer average in England is only 15 (!), is pretty good) have had us enjoying the garden, and even BBQing for the first time here. The sight of sunburned poms in their shorts and t-shirts is also good for a laugh.

We have been kept very busy counting, and saving, lambs. Since last weekend they have been popping up in ever increasing numbers in "our" field, without requiring my midwifery assistance - I think we are up to 20 by now, and most of the ewes have either had twins or triplets. My sympathy for the ewes is also on the rise. The lambs are adorable but very silly, and constantly finding themselves on the wrong side of the fence, which leads to the humourous sight of me chasing them around our garden and dropping the back over the fence to their cross mums.

Just before the lambs started arriving, we woke to the sight of a sheep lying on her back, feet sticking up in the air. Uh oh, I thought, one of the ewes didn't make it. Her legs started waving at us. Rigor mortis? Jason donned his wellies and went to fetch the farmer next door, who promptly rolled the poor sheep over back onto her legs again and she ambled off to enjoy the grass without so much as a thank you. Apparantly this can happen, as their backs are flat and if they find themselves on their backs they can't roll back - I would guess, from experience that being heavily pregnant wouldn't help this either! But they can die if they don't get rolled back, so Jason smugly went to work that morning feeling like a sheep hero.

As you can tell, we are quite taken with our growing flock, and starting to question our fondness for lamb cutlets...

Green is good

After I wrote my homage to the aga… it broke. After I relished in the delights of early spring… it snowed. So it is with some trepidation I write this. Could the obvious power of my blog could trigger some worldwide natural disaster?

One of the most noticeable changes we have undergone, is that we are now living in a country that signed up to the Kyoto Agreement. And as such, is now it the grips of nationwide carbon footprint hysteria. Our weekend paper includes green and ethical sections, columns, and it overrides almost every relevant article (OK, yes, we are reading the Guardian, flagpost of the left-leaning middle class world).

But it has also pervaded fashion, consumerism and even – gasp – politics, to the extent that the conservative party proposed a tax on airmiles recently – the more you fly, the more nasty carbon dioxide you are responsible for, and therefore the more you pay.

In the retail world, not only has Bono’s wife launched her own range of ethically produced garments, but M&S stock organic cotton undies and Top Shop has embraced the fashion ethics fervour with it’s own organic fair trade range of tees. This is the same Top Shop that I used to negotiate down to lowest penny for, with more thought to the bonuses offered for the highest margin products than to the sweatshop conditions in the Far East?

We have been a little half-hearted in joining in with this ethical cleansing. Yes, I drag my recycling down to the local depot twice a week (no pick up in our village), I buy fair-trade bananas and coffee, and we have a few energy efficient lightbulbs. But we have not installed our own DIY wind turbine (available at Homebase), we run two cars that are not hybrids or even diesel, and we would rather fly to France than endure 8 hours car/train journey with two small children. And I understand that my personal carbon emissions from the Sydney-Heathrow flight was greater than the average African will contribute in his entire lifetime.

Perhaps I should subscribe to one of the many websites that enable me to “buy back” these emissions in the form of paying for tree planting or wind turbines. It seems a little ironic that most well-off people, rather than radically altering their lifestyle, would prefer to “pay” for their environmental damage, in order to reduce their carbon footprint to zero. I guess it is better than nothing.

And yes, I did finally get around to seeing An Inconvenient Truth last night on DVD. A compelling argument… with a bit of luck John Howard will have finally cottoned on to the fact that most of the rest of the developed world has reached an environmental tipping point, and public debate in Australia will be about more than just water.

The major difference, really, is that nearly every consumer transaction here has an ethical or green option. In the same way that UK supermarkets embraced organic fruit and vegetables so early on, the size of the market here can sustain that degree of choice.

I’d be interested to know if, in our absence, Australia is going through much the same shift in public conscience. Let me know! Maybe I should stock up on wind turbines while we are here…

PS You will be relived to know the Aga has been fixed – our landlady’s dad came over and worked his special voodoo on it! Of course, an oil-burning oven that runs 24/7 is not especially envirnomentally friendly... maybe I had better go turn it off again.

Spring Emerges...

Aaah, spring in the countryside... the smell of fresh fertiliser, swerving to avoid the latest roadkill (bunny, fox or squirrel?) and the sight of Jason looking for his sunglasses, last seen in Sydney over three months ago...

The heartlifting joy of the sight of a cluster of daffodils, purple crocuses or cherry blossom trees, can only be truly appreciated after a long bleak winter. We have enjoyed many sunny, blue sky days lately - admittedly cold still, but almost warm enough in the sunshine to make us carefree and coat-less (sometimes).
And of course the sight of all the new summer fashion in stores has me counting down the days until I can bare my legs in a swishy skirt or new sandals. Although I suspect I will still be getting a lot of wear out of my six new pairs of boots (oops... but they were all on sale...)

We are missing our sheep at Yew Tree Cottage. They have been moved to another field, to be readied for market. I feel rather sad for them - they kept us company, on the other side of the conservatory glass, through the winter. The farmer has told us that he will be bring some new sheep into "our" field soon - and we are to let him know if we notice any lambs suddenly being born. Apparently the mother sheep are just left to get on with it, so I will be watching closely for any telltale signs of labour (and no doubt feeling a great deal of empathy for them).

Dylan is just as excited by all the small signs of spring - leaves budding on hedges, bunny rabbits bounding through the fields and birds chirping happily as we drive to school. He probably thinks that we will wake up one morning and it will be hot enough to head straight for the beach - sadly, this is highly unlikely in Derbyshire. In any case, it is certainly good to have longer days - we are finally getting up in daylight (sunrise is now at 6am) and enjoying longer playtimes in the garden after school.

He has made a lot of friends now at school, and we have been busy with a hectic schedule of birthday parties and playdates. He has certainly acclimatised, and thinks nothing of running out into the garden in a cold late afternoon drizzle to practice with his new tennis racket. As long as he has his "wellies" on!

Sam is growing up quickly now, and uses a new word almost every day. His latest is "hello", in a rather English accent, when he greets me first thing in the morning. I can't believe he will be two in just a few months. He and Dylan are playing together now, although not without the occasional tears and fights. Their favourite time of day is the naked wrestling on the bed after bathtime, where they put on a "show" of boy-style dancing and gymnastics, and Sam desperately tries to copy all Dylan's slick moves.

I am off to the doctors now with them- Sam just needs a health nurse check up, but Dylan has insisted he is also sick. "I have been sick in my tummy ever since we arrived in England, mummy. I think it is called home-sick."

Ou Est Le Metro?

"I feel so small," said Dylan, as he gazed up through the centre of the Eiffel Tower. Day one in Paris, and we had already covered a lot of ground in Montmarte, taken two metros, eaten lunch in a brasserie and walked up the Champs de Mars (where Dylan took a go-kart for a spin). But seeing the Eiffel Tower up close was definitely his highlight to date. We followed that up with a ride on a carousel and a boat trip down the Seine, before we collapsed in an exhausted heap in our Montmarte apartment.

Seeing Paris through Dylan's eyes was a rewarding experience. Suddenly we had the perfect excuse to get excited over the tourist haunts, eat endless pain au chocolat and crepes, and buy souvenirs of that famous tower. And, despite the cold winter weather and our lack of french language (I resorted to buying as many croissants as the french number that popped into my head), it was a reasonably child-friendly city. The many parks were filled with adventure playgrounds and unique kids activities - our favourite was pushing a toy sailboat around a fountain in the Tuilerries - and the Pompidou musuem offered a chance to run amuck surrounded by modern art.

The kids loved the food - apart from getting to eat chocolate for breakfast, the cafes and brasseries always offered a variety of frites, poulet, croque monsieur and of course crepes. And of course the metro, bendy buses and overground trains were the biggest hit of all with our two trainspotting boys.

"Look at that tiny village," exclaimed Dylan as our bus passed over the top of the famous Montmartre Cemetary. Definitely a fresh perspective on the mausoleums!

The only thing we would do differently is avoid Euro-Disneyland during French school holidays - the lasseiz-faire attitude to queue maintenance meant at least an hours wait for most rides, and most of them were not suitable for Sam in any case. But they got to see Mickey and friends, ride "it's a small world", a space rocket and the carousel, and see the princess parade through Sleeping Beauty's castle. Dylan, of course, loved it all - especially the Buzz Lightyear gift shop.

We were so lucky to stay with our friends Anais and Graham - although we worry we may have put them off having kids of their own. They treated us to a fantastic raclette feast with their friends ("don't drink any water or you may die!") and also a night out at a delicious local bistro while they babysat. We also had a lovely brunch with Pim, Victoria and their two gorgeous girls -baby Charlotte just 3 weeks old - which was a rare chance for Dylan and Sam to play with someone their own age.

Dylan's first "really foreign" country, and he loved it - I suspect the travelling gene may have been well and truly inherited!

Aga Love

There is one thing I will definitely miss when we eventually move home again, and that is the Aga.

It almost makes me wish it was miserably cold in Sydney for 10 months of the year, just so I could justify shipping one back with us. Almost.

Last night I spent a few educational hours at the Derby Aga Shop's cooking workshop. A mix of Aga inheritors (like me), brand new nervous Aga owners (who had just spent the equivalent of a new car on an oven) and die-hard Aga fanatics, we learned how to cook a fried egg directly on the hotplate and many other Aga miracles. James, a freelance Aga instructor (now, who even knew such a career existed?), had us enthralled with a foolproof way of cooking fluffy basmati rice - in the simmering oven - and a fat free full English breakfast. And we all enjoyed tasting the results - freshly baked bread, a leg of lamb, pizza, apricot brioche pudding... and the list goes on...

And as a result I am even more devoted than ever - and the proud owner of a Aga baking tray and rack that will never fit into my oven in Sydney, but I am sure will pay for itself with 6 months of roast dinners and full English breakfasts.

When I first started looking at country cottages with Aga ovens, I thought they looked quaint, but that I would never actually use it for cooking - far too dangerous and uncontrollable. An enormous cast iron stove with two small ovens and two enormous lidded iron hobs, no dials or controls... hardly state-of-the-art! And it is on all the time, running on kerosene - weird.

Now I love it for it's ability to create warmth in the kitchen (and heat our hot water system at the same time), miraculous laundry drying capabilities (stack wet washing on top of the hobs, rotate every now and then, and no need for a dryer!) and the way it cooks a baked potato to perfection. The kids love sitting around it in the various nooks and crannies - and it is surprisingly not dangerous with little ones (as long as they don't try to climb inside).

And although they look small, the ovens are a tardis within - I could fit 8 pans in them if I needed to, or actually had that many pans. Very simple - top oven very hot (for grilling and roasting), bottom oven not very hot (for simmering and stewing). Left hob very hot (for boiling), right hob not so hot (for simmering). And you never have to wait for it to heat up.

Here's a handy valentines hint from James - run a hot bath for your loved one, and pop a towel in the simmering oven for when they get out. Apparently if you want to get lucky, it is a sure-fire winner - are you reading this, Jason?

Getting an Aga is like taking up a hobby or collecting frogs - your friends will never run out of ideas for birthday presents, as there is an array of expensive kitchen accessories and Aga-branded domestic goddess apparel.

As I type a beef casserole is spending the day in the simmering oven. Bon appetite!

Night sledding with sheep

As the snow fell heavily this morning, I listened to BBC Derby radio for the list of school closures. Sure enough, just as we about to leave, Dylan's school came up and within seconds he happily exchanged his school uniform for his robin (as in batman &...) outfit.

Our wonderful new nanny, Vanessa, also couldn't make it through the snow as it had started in her area much earlier that morning. So I faced a day snowbound with the kids... instead of childfree shopping and errands in Derby as planned. Oh well.

A quick play outside confirmed that driving to Ashbourne for a playdate was impossible - the snow was already ankle deep along our country lane, untouched by ploughs or grit. Sam enjoyed himself for a while, until he fell accidentally into a face first snowangel, and remembered he didn't like snow as it is cold, wet and mushy. I had just enough time to build a small snowman for him, while Dylan valiantly scraped the snow off my car in a bid to prove we really could drive to his friend (big) Sam's house.

As the snow eased later that afternoon, we did manage to make the journey to town, where (big) Sam's sleds and toy snowploughs made Dylan's first snowplay experience much more enjoyable. He quickly prefected the art of throwing snowballs (at mum, mostly) while a reluctant (little) Sam was pulled around on a sled by his new girlfriend Lola.

On our way home we bought Dylan his own red plastic sled, but it was quite dark by the time we returned. Jason showed his "sledging" skills (as they call it here - honest) by hurtling himself down the slopes of the field next door. The last time the sheep moved that fast was during our Australia Day fireworks display!

It was beautiful driving beneath the snow covered branches and alongside the white fringed hedges, but I am crossing my fingers that school will be reopened tomorrow - as well as out Australia Day re-enactment assembly, we have a school disco to look forward to tomorrow evening! Dylan will of course be dressed as superman... and we are all having dinner at "big" Sam's house afterwards - the social highlight of my week! And I think I have had enough fun playing Ludo and snowplough emergency re-enactments with Dylan for now...

Culture Swap

Now that we have been here two months (already?) I have had a chance to reflect on the things we love, and are not so wild about, in our new homeland...

Things we like

• Free child care (nursery) for all 3 and 4 year olds – fantastic for early childhood education, shame it doesn’t apply to us as Sam is not quite old enough…
  
• Free medical prescriptions for all children on the NHS (and all doctors visits are bulk billed - grown ups too)


• Cheap flights - we are heading to Paris in two weeks time, at a cost of £30 each from Nottingham airport


• Playgrounds and kids menus at the country pubs


• Healthy kids meals and an abundance of organic food at the supermarket


• And on the subject of England's amazing supermarkets, a special mention for Ocado - delivers Waitrose (yummy gourmet) supermarket food to my fridge door, in colour coded bags so I know what is destined for freezer, fridge and pantry - all in a one hour timeslot

Things we have to live with

• English plumbing - although this house has been beautifully renovated, our en suite shower only runs scalding hot or freezing cold, and the main shower is more of a trickle. It’s a coin toss as to which is worse first thing in the morning


• Life without lattes... even if a Hopscotch Cafe was across the road, we would have to pay $5AUD for a very average cappuccino


• The price of petrol - £60 to fill the tank… ouch (that's AUD150 for a small sedan)


• The BT help desk - even though the problem is BTs, you have to pay by the minute for an Indian call centre to discuss it with you. Slowly.


• Mud - a problem specific to rural life, and the ruin of all my nice shoes

It's a toss up

• Driving on country roads - whizzing along the hills and dales at 50 mph is exhilarating. Getting stuck behind a tractor, not so great


• Although we miss the beaches... and sunshine, we are discovering enough things to do with kids to keep us busy for the next 26 weekends... including a fabulous steam train ride last Saturday, with Thomas pulling us back (pictured)


• Learning a new language - when you are invited around for tea, that means dinner (not bikkies and a cuppa). When you are invited over for dinner, that means lunch... And don't ask for zucchinis or eggplants in the supermarket (that's courgette and aubergine to you)

Tie me kangaroo down, sport

Ashbourne Hilltop Infants School is still recovering from Australia Day madness... Dylan's teacher has asked me if I could come in next week for a repeat performance for their Foundation Assembly!

Dylan was thrilled with the entire day (except the bit where an exhausted Jason and Sara sneaked out of his school for a quiet lunch). Hilltop Harry, our inflatable kangaroo friend, drove into school with us and caused quite a stir as soon as he emerged from the car.

Dylan's classmates were very enthusiastic in their discussion of Australian animals and listened patiently while I read them a story (Rosie & Mack head Outback). They were then rewarded with a clip on koala each (thanks, Dad), fairy bread and lamingtons. Fairy bread was a revelation to them - they have hundreds and thousands here but the idea of putting it on buttered white bread appears to be uniquely Australian.

The highlight of the day was definitely the Assembly, thanks to Mrs Pedlar (the music teacher). We managed to get the entire school (120 children under 7) singing "Kookaburra sits in the old gumtree" - in rounds. Mrs Pedlar then launched into an impromptu rendition of "tie me kangaroo down, sport" on the guitar, accompanied by a volunteer 2nd grader on wobbleboard (actually a piece of white cardboard) and Mrs Winbow (nursery teacher) on didgeridoo (a real one).

Jason, Dylan and I then did the rounds of the older classrooms, who had some very good questions for us to answer (do they have toy shops in Australia? what do you eat? is it very hot all the time?) Dylan was very confident in his answers (especially the questions about toys, his speciality)

When I picked Dylan up again this afternoon, his friends all farewelled him with a "g'day mate" in their best aussie accents, and his teacher handed me a huge bag of anzac biscuits, that the class had learned to bake that afternoon.

That night, we let a few fireworks off in the garden (they are legal here) - to the sound of bolting, terrified sheep and horses. There is something about being abroad that makes you feel "more Australian" - and it was wonderful that Dylan's school went to so much trouble to help us celebrate it.

One of Dylan's classmates has asked if he can celebrate "Germany Day" - but I wonder what his version of Hilltop Harry the inflatable kangaroo will be?