Glamping
Last weekend, we took a short drive to the countryside in Kent for our first experience “glamping.” This is one trip we’ve been so looking forward to because it was all about the freedom to roam and enjoy each other and some great friends, the Harts. Of course, in our minds we envisioned sunshine, campfires, frollicking in the fields. Ole Mother Nature bites again. It was horrible weather. I’m not being dramatic. Buckets of rain, wind with up to 40mph gusts and cooooold. Ah. The best laid plans I suppose.
We had one great evening when we arrived and a great afternoon just before leaving…and the rest was filled with bundling up together, hot cocoa, tea, wool socks, puddle jumping and you know, that was pretty great anyway!!! This place was a dream. The “tents” are amazing little homes with sinks, toilets, separate bedrooms…Coltan LOVED his swiss style cabinet bed. How cool!
Coltan’s bed
We fetched fresh eggs from the chicken coop for breakfast, walked among the herd of sheep, got our boots nice and muddy and held each other tight to stay warm at night in the crazy wind!
I have never seen pigs like this! Crazy huge.
What a weekend! We laughed a lot as the wind was whipping around the tent…I think it sounded like a mute flock of geese were let loose inside. It was crazy. Somehow, though, we slept a bit and cuddled and I am already finding myself looking for more glamping sites around the UK. Farmer Joe (that’s Mrs. Farmer Joe mind you!) was a real treat, too, letting the kids bottle feed a baby goat and checking on us through out the worst of the weather.
Sam made the boys sleeping hats out of tshirt sleeves! They love them.
Muddy Puddle jumping!
post- muddy puddles!
The sun came out just after we packed up the car so we were off to explore in our well worn wellies
Coltan wore his “Special Agent” hat everywhere and struck a pose whenever I pulled the camera out.
I highly recommend this type of holiday for families!! Check out their website and pull out your wellies!!
Pitter Patter and some Babbling
It’s been raining most of these week. Well, let me amend that. It’s been, raining/hailing/windy/grey/sunny/mild/pretty….weird weather all week. After our weekend in Disneyland Paris, I didn’t mind the idea of rain Monday…a great reason to stay inside, watch too much TV, stay in our pajamas and recover. But it’s Friday. The rain is pouring down. It’s become a pretty nice soundtrack to naptime, though, and I’m embracing it best I can with a cup of Earl Grey and wool socks.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about things I want to write down adn remember. I’m just too full of thought to know where to start most of the time. I guess I’ll spill a bit randomly for now…
- finally started working out again…Pilates is good and hard work…hoping to stick to it. The studio is 3 blocks from my house…I need to keep this up.
- Leo talks all the time…hums, squawks, shouts, whispers…he copies Coltan’s words and can saw things like bicycle, mickey mouse, and banana and then a few phrases that he pours out as if it’s one word like “idon’tlikeit” or “ichewitup” and “sorryiloveyou” Loving this age a lot even with the challenge of his hot little temper. Kinda have baby fever again. Yikes!
- Coltan had tonsillitis again and we see a pediatric ENT to try to get this all sorted out. He’s healthy right now and such a joy. When Coltan is 100% there is just nothing like it. He is one crazy amazing kid if I do say so myself
- I love tea have on average 2 cups a day…the real stuff and I like a little sure and a little milk in it. I also love Euro cheese…hence the Pilates classes.
- We speak the British lingo in our house…partly cause it’s fun, partly cause Coltan brings it home from school and partly cause you just can’t help it! So, if you have to go to the bathroom, we say “Do you need a wee in the loo?” and if you’re having a cookie for dessert, we say “I’m having a biscuit for pudding.” We’re regular “Cheers”-ers…it’s a salutation, it’s a thank you…it’s fully embraced here. So many others…I’m sure we’ll drop it all when we return stateside but it’s so fun for now.
That’s all for now…I’m sure there’s so much more to let out of brain but it will have to wait for another nap time.
Cheers!
Thanks for the Game Grandpa
Part I – When, where and how did it start? My grandpa can tell the story better than me, and his ending is slightly better (though a bit of an exaggeration), but in-so-much as it’s relevant to the rest of this post, I’ll do my best. Every summer, I would spend a couple of weeks up with my grandparents in Ft. Wayne. I cherished these trips, not the least of which was due to the time that I spent with my grandpa on the golf course. I started joining him for his Monday, Wednesday, or Friday morning rounds with the senior club when I was about seven. I was a caddy and I knew my role… and I loved it. Push the buggy, spot errant shots, and help old Lou (who really couldn’t even see well enough to line up his own shots) line up towards the hole. If I showed proper etiquette, no walking in lines, no shadows cast over a ball or a stance, still and quiet during swings, always let a faster player play through or offer to let them join on, towards the end of the rounds the guys would let me chip and put on a hole or two… and I loved it.
And then one day, when I must have been ten, as we walked to the 9th tee at Shoaf Park (some days they only played 9), which set up a nice 157 yard par 3, slight elevation to the green, bunker front left, mound on the right and trees behind, Grandpa said, “Guys, you mind if Sam plays this one in with us? I think he’s earned it.”
Given the honours off the tee, and elated out of my skin, I reached into grandpa’s buggy and pulled out his Powerbuilt 5 wood (Coltan and Leo – yes daddy played with real wooden clubs). Tee in the ground, practice swing, look at the green, deep breath, swing out of my shoes hard, pure… stuck pin high, four feet to the right with the gallery of four men from the Greatest Generation in a combination of stitches and cheers erupting behind me… hooked on this game. Grandpa says I dropped the put for the birdie, which is why his story is better than mine… and also wrong. I didn’t. It was a two put for a par, but one heckova way to play my first hole… and lucky, but again, grandpa doesn’t tell it that way, so I won’t either.
Golf has a lot of crystallized memories for me. That morning, my best round in high school, where I played varsity but as the lock for the 6th man score that didn’t count, but for a day when it all came together for a 39 on the back side at Smock, seeing my grandpa fall over in excitement the day at Riverside in Ft. Wayne when I drained an eagle on the way to my only experience in the 70s… but it really wasn’t the golf, it was the time with my grandpa. It was playing a game and learning over time that a better lie and the chance at saying I shot a lower score was less valuable than my integrity. It was paying a 15 times more than it would have cost at a local pro shop, to fix the only club I’ve ever broken, when my grandpa made me ship it all the way to Arizona to be fixed at the Ping factory.
Tomorrow, assuming a two or three ball pairing will let me join in (the only way a single can tee it up at the Old Course), golf will give me another memory, as I play St. Andrews. I’ll certainly try to go over the hotel on 17 and fight shy of the bunker, but if I hit the hotel or if I end up stuck in the bunker, I’ll have to settle for a call to grandpa from the club house to tell him all about it.
Part II – After going straight from the train at 5AM something to drop my bags at the hotel, I arrived at the starter’s hut at 6AM. I sat on a bench watching the sun break the horizon of the sea off my right shoulder, over the beach where the famous scene from Chariots of Fire was filmed. As the course woke up, I was able to check the ballot to see that it was very likely I would get picked up for a round, and sure enough, I was first off at 7AM with two scratch golfers from North London. Keith, one of the two I was paired with chronicled an up and down par from a nasty bunker in the picture below… after which I taught my two Brit friends the American saying that, “A broken clock is right twice a day.”
What an amazing experience, highlighted by canning a bump and run 80 yard 7 iron to save par on the famed Road Hole (the bunkers are in fact awful and you’re lucky to play out sideways, with back the wrong the direction the more likely option… see twice a day.
Despite what the Scottish weather is supposed to be, it was 65 and sunny and dead calm with not the slightest hint of a breeze… so nice I was almost disappointed. But not really, it was amazing and memorable, right down to the old bent over Scottish course marshal who sat on the 3rd tee and said, “Do you need some pointers lads? From here on out, all the way to 18, keep it left lads. Did you hear me lad? What did aye say, lad? I said keep it left, always left lad. Aye? Aye.”
After a lunch at the clubhouse and a little rest, I set out on my second round of the day on the Jubilee Course. This is the youngster of the three older courses at St. Andrews (the Old Course has its origins 600 years ago), and it is still well over 100 years old. While the weather remained dry and warm, it was calm no more. The Jubilee tracks straight out along the coast for the first 8 or so holes with the wind roaring against me and from the left to right (death to a lifetime “fader” like myself”). It is safe to say that I had serious concerns about having enough golf balls to finish the round… lucky for me Grandpa George also instilled the love of looking for lost golf balls. Nonetheless, an amazing second round with a course that actually has more scenic views of the sea and Eden’s Estuary than the Old Course (more as in like they are both amazing and incomparable, but one is slightly better than the other).
A long walk around the town and dinner were enough to make accentuate my missing Amber and the boys to a point of near madness, but still the perfect opportunity to reflect upon what an amazing experience the day had been.
Saturday morning, when I had planned to play the New Course (the last of the three ancient courses at St. Andrews); I was disappointed to learn that it was booked solid for a member’s tourney. Disappointment only lasts so long as realizing that I would have to go and try to get back on the Old for a second round. Starting again at 6AM to be first in line for the walk on pairings, I was lucky enough to play the Old Course again. I say lucky enough, because I was actually denied by the first pairing in joining their round… (Dude, likely a Texan and his buddy said, “Sorry pal, we’ve got another tee time today so we’re trying to play fast. First off, if you ever have the benefit of getting to do a once in a lifetime thing, don’t play the foil in another person’s dream. Second, dude, you’re playing the freaking Old Course at St. Andrews. For the love of everything short of blasphemy, DO NOT rush through this… savour it.) Sorry, back to the lucky part for me. I was able to join up with the next group, which was perfect. Three Norwegian guys, and I seriously don’t think they make mean people in Norway, and round two on the Old Course was amazing. As pretty as the morning before, but with wind, it was the experience the Old Course should be. You couldn’t hit anything smaller than an 8 iron without loosing the ball in the wind. It was bump and run only links golf the way they Scots and mother nature designed it to be. Plus, I shot out of my mind for a guy that hasn’t played in almost two years and was really excited about my 91. Plus, my pairing was amazing. They spoke enough English to make it fun, but when describing shots to each other it was all Norwegian…. which is wonderful to hear and mix in the words that are the same in both language such as, “jibber jibber jibber, ahh bunkera f&$ka, jibber jibber jibber.
Another nice lunch at the clubhouse watching golfers finish on the New Course, a little shopping in the town for some tartan patterned everything you could ever want and another loop to see the sights, and I am now back on the train writing this very post. I’m not sure why anyone born on the Scottish coast would ever move away, and I certainly can’t wait to come back.
I did “have” to promise Coltan that I’d take he and Leo back there when they’re old enough to play it (seems Uncle RJ should be in on that as well), so I’m happy to say that it hopefully won’t be a once in a lifetime experience, but amazing no less. So blessed to have this experience. So immeasurably blessed.
Oh, PS – I’m only 32, and I’m not done living or learning and my 3 or 4 grey hairs don’t yet give me a box to stand and preach on yet, but those etiquette points, no walking in lines, no shadows cast over a ball or a stance, still and quiet during swings, always let a faster player play through or offer to let them join on… it’s just my experience in life so far, but it seems like when I put those rules into play in my family, my friendships, or my place of work… yeah, things seems to get on pretty well.
While Daddy’s Away
My oh so lovely friend, Sally, whisked the boys and I away to her parents house in Sussex where I am sipping tea and seriously thinking I could stay here forever. The house is so perfect…homey and warm while still historic and quirky. There’s a little chapel room just off one of the sitting rooms that I adore. You’ll find me there if I go missing. The 5 kids amused themselves with games and bikes and swings and footballs…and Sally and I are lounging and sighing and unwinding from London life while soaking up this special treat of time together.
Fore!
Sam is off to Scotland this weekend for a huge check off his bucket list – golfing St. Andrews! I’m so excited for him. He’s doing that man-giddy thing where he’s all calm but can’t keep the corners of his mouth from curving upward. In honor of his trip, the boys practiced their golf game today…
Three for tea
So excited to have my cousin, Bethany, her husband and kids and my Aunt Anne here visiting!! We’ve been soaking up the gorgeous sunshine this weekend and the three ladies stopped for tea at Kensington Palace.
s
Museums, parks, trains, buses and lots of love…so grateful for the visits from loved ones.
Barcelona with Heather
I love this lady. She is just one of those friends that is a lifer. We met 4 years ago and we’ve been linked for life ever since. She saved for a year to come to London. A year! All she wanted to do was sit on my couch, talk and drink coffee with me…maybe some little adventure, too. So, after searching the cheap flights, we decided on Barcelona for the weekend!! Oh I love experiencing new things with someone I love. And I LOVE Barcelona…old European windy streets, gorgeous art and architecture, yummy food and drink and, of course, the BEACH! Perfect. Made even better with a friend like this by my side. XO!
Yay! Heather’s first dip in the Med…
This last picture was taken just hours before we headed to the airport. Talk about a perfect ending!!
