Ravenscar

We have done some walking this week. Each time we decide to go down to the beach for a 'fossic' or (we need to find a verb for this) 'a ferkle around in the rock-pools', Bridgjo decides to take us a way he last took when he was about 12. Unfortunately, since then about 10m and several houses have tumbled into the deep. The coastline is changing each time we come, and it was evident from today's yomp down to Ravenscar that Nature is not going to give up quite yet.

We'd hiked all the way to the alum works, fueled by Bothams' best (tea cakes, curd tarts and pasties), then got stuck. Although in the past Bridgjo and I have gamely flung ourselves down the sides of cliffs with a couple of fishermen's rope and a crampon, we have to now be slightly more sensible with a five-year-old, but not too much, in case we deprive her of living life on the edge. Or not.

So we had to climb back up to the golf course (whilst trying to look as if we were not trespassing), and back down the other way. Only about a 2 mile detour. Luckily T is too young to quantify what this means, although I was gagging for a cup of tea by then. Oh God. I can see myself starting to take a thermos with me. It will be plaid rugs next, mark my words. And using phrases like "Mark my words".

When we got to the beach, we decided against looking for fossils (fossicing), as the cliffs were looking precarious. this time, we concentrated on the rock pools, with the crabs, hermit crabs, fish and jelly tot "anenemonenes".

And then we looked up to check the tide, and found ourselves eye-balling a group of seals. This was a big thrill, as they came quite close. Further up the beach there was a pup, who'd been stranded, so the family must have been gathered round waiting for the tide to come in and help it out. It was great to see them, and it rounded off a truly great holiday.

Are you going to Whitby Fair?

Never thought I would ever hear myself say the words "Let's go to Whitby. It'll be warm there". And, indeed, it is. As I overheard someone say "It's so warm Ah could tak' off one of me cardies".

The first morning both T and bridgjo slept in until 10.30, giving me chance to pop into town to shop at Woolies, and have breakfast at Botham's. Woolies is looking sad and bedraggled - lots of Tupperware (TM) and office supplies. I suspect that this year, judging by the armfuls of stuff being marched purposely towards the checkout, that gifts were slightly less traditional ("A stapler? I wrote asking him for a pair of socks! Can he get nothing right?!").

I was woken this morning at two a.m. by a little voice by the side of my head (and in case you don't know, 5-year olds never wake you up with an apologetic cough and a whisper) asking "So, Mummy - whereabouts is Santa right now? And is Doctor Who on tonight?".

And a Merry Christmas to everyone!

Minnesota Ice

Our first experience of black ice today. Except we were coming down an enormous hill at the time, and really had no idea it was quite that bad. Luckily we were sort of able to limp down the road using the gutter and grass verge for grip. Curtailed our day out though – obviously the reason why we were the only ones on the road.

We are due one foot of snow this evening. If I slide down my drive backwards tomorrow morning, I am getting out and we’ll have a snow day. After all, T and I are getting quite good at the learning at home. We are now onto the ‘ch’ sound. “Think of a word beginning with ‘ch’”, “Don’t know”. “How about something you are sitting on?”, I prompted. “Ch….ottom?”.

Reinforcing my idea that T is, in fact, the reincarnation of someone’s Nan, she very seriously piped-up from the back seat this morning “Mummy? You know, when I turned 5, I was happy, but very sad to say good-bye to 4”.

We received a parcel for one of the other neighbours at our address yesterday. I wanted to take it round, but quite frankly I have been put off that sort of neighbourly behaviour since we went next-door and realised they were butchering that morning’s hunt from a tree in their back-garden.

Instead I looked up the name on whitepages.com. Not only did it say “Kurt xxx, Aged 43. Is this correct?”, but also had the name and age of other adults at the same house. Bit intrusive.
Last Thursday was T’s cross-cultural training day. She had great fun talking about how she felt when she left, and how she feels now, and making a book called “T goes around the world”. She took it into school the next day, and it was lovely to see all the little kids gathered round as she “read” it out.

The teacher took us to eat at Chipotle, a fast-food Mexican place. It's pronounced Shee-POHt-lay" and you just know that there is some unfortunate three year-old who is constantly being introduced as a testament to their parents' ability to get on a plane.

Her school play was on Friday. It was about a child who goes to sleep and time-travels through different periods. T’s was the 1970s. It was a great success, marred only by one of the young dinosaurs laying out a pterodactyl. It was fun for me too, as I got to help out with the costumes and scenery.

Too cold to snow, indeed

The phrase "too cold too snow" is obviously rubbish, with several polar-bears begging to differ up there in the North Pole. This morning, it was actually warmer in the fridge than in the kitchen itself. It has already plummeted to zero degrees FAHRENHEIT (I have to shout that bit, rather hysterically), which makes the snow too powdery to make snow-balls (apparently. As if I am that mad to go outside find out. Or rather, as if I have enough winter clothes to go outside to find out).

I had my first experience today of driving on the ice (note to self, do not attempt another U-Turn until April). A bit slippery, and I'm not too keen, but unlike in Switzerland, if I refuse to drive in the snow, we won't eat until, well, April.

On Sunday I managed to pull myself out of bed for the first time for mass at the local Catholic Church. They had a breakfast for the newcomers. I always like to get some font-time in at this time of the year....hedging my ecclisiastical bets, just in case.

Am I the only one though to giggle during the readings and wonder "Did the Corinthians ever write back?".