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!