The German Fairy-Tale Tour, Friday 9

Today was more of a nightmare than a fairy-tale. It started off well, with a lazy start and I nipped over to Carrefour to buy bread for breakfast.

We set off at about 10:30, with the Satnav blithely telling us we would arrive by 14:30. Ha, ha, ha!  Belgian traffic is not like that, and we were stuck in jams for hours and hours, even being diverted through Holland (which didn't look any different to Belgium except a bit less traffic).  It was too hot to knit, so I mostly dozed.

We arrived in Düren two hours later than scheduled, although a lunch break helped with that, and decided it was too late to go into Aachen. We can't stay there as it is in a Green Zone and our van doesn't qualify for that.  Instead of the very nice aire we went to in the summer, we found a car park near the station, €3 for 24 hours and no prohibition on motor homes as far as we could see.  The SW went for a walk and an explore, and when he came in we had a cup of tea, which showed him we needed milk.  So we went out to find a supermarket, but the first one we found didn't have fresh milk. However, there is an Aldi (and a Netto) the other side of the station, so we went there.

Back to the van to eat butternut squash with tomatoes, corn and feta (and a little pesto that wanted eating), served on bulgur wheat. I only cooked the usual half cup that I do for rice or couscous, but it seemed to make masses more and I had to give the SW, who was hungry despite having had a slice of fruit cake with his tea, half my helping.  It was good, though.

The Swan Whisperer points out that, as it was after midnight, European Time, before we left the UK, we have technically been in five different countries today!

The German Fairy-Tale Tour, Thursday 8

Really, I suppose, today is Day 1, but we set off last night after a minor panic when the boiler valve came open and we had to re-top-up with water (all sorted now!), and had a very easy, and incredibly dull drive to Folkestone. It was too dark to knit, I was too cold to sleep, and I can't read in a moving car!  So I sat there feeling bored. The Swan Whisperer said he was bored, too.

We got to Folkestone at last, and were summoned through without too much of a wait, but then we had to wait ages in the holding area, and even longer on the bridge down to the platform. A man came round and said we wouldn't actually be loading for another ten or fifteen minutes, which meant, rather obviously, that we were going to be late. And, indeed, it was gone 11:00 pm when we finally got on the Shuttle - midnight, European time.  So I got ready for bed and then got comfortable and tried not to go to sleep - I didn't want ten minutes' sleep to then keep me awake all night. The Swan Whisperer, who had no such qualms, went to sleep anyway

At long last we reached Calais, and it's only a five minute drive from the terminal to Cité Europe, parked, turned on gas and fridge, opened windows, closed curtains, and bed within ten minutes. And now it is a lovely morning, and I'm going to get up and go to Carrefour for some bread and fruit juice, and maybe some biscuits as we seem to have forgotten them. We do have a fruit cake instead, though!  Then we will set off about mid-morning, I expect, to drive through Belgium, which will be very boring but at least I can knit, and I expect we will listen to music.

The German Fairy-tale tour, Prologue

This is basically a post to goose Networked Blogs so that my daily journal will be cross-posted to Facebook and bore you all! 

It's time for our long holiday - just under three weeks.  This year, we are following the German Fairy-Tale route up to Bremen, then to Lubeck, across to Berlin for 48 hours, then Saxony, and then a night in Karlovy Vary as we missed that on our Inter-rail trip three years ago.  Then home via our niece in Mannheim, and then Trier. 

We picked up the motor home on Monday as we had the engineer coming to fix the fridge - which he appears to have done very successfully, and it will now work properly on gas.  It's been getting less and less efficient since we have owned it, and on our last trip it was patently obvious that it was basically a waste of gas, and it was just a cupboard.  But a new burner has been installed, and it now lights properly and everything, so....

Anyway, most of the stuff we need has now been taken out to the motor home and put away, although there will be another couple of crates tomorrow - and the stuff from the fridge.  So we will be setting off after Grandparent duty, and spending tomorrow night in the Cité Europe car park, ready to start our adventure properly on Friday.

Back to the Museum

Today was the Last Day of the Holidays.  Actually, it wasn't, but both Nursery and School had INSET days, so the boys were free.  We picked them up from their father's chambers, and while we were there, were able to visit the Temple Church, something I had long wanted to do.

When we had finished there, we got on a bus for a few stops to St Paul's Cathedral, from where we walked up to the Museum of London, stopping on the way in Postman's Park.  I didn't draw their attention to the memorial plaques, as it's too much the kind of thing to give The Boy nightmares, but there was a fountain and a fish pond which they adored.

We then arrived at the Museum.  It is almost exactly three years since I took The Boy there, and I was interested to see how his brother would react.  Interestingly, to many of the same things - he also loved the model of the Roman port of Londinium, as did the big boy, and we spent quite a time answering their questions and discussing what the models might be doing.  

Sadly, the permanent exhibits of the Fire of London had been temporarily closed while the expensive 350th anniversary exhibition - which we were not going to go to - was on, but they loved the model of Old St Paul's ("It's a church!" said Boy Two), and then we walked on towards the more modern era, but just as we got to the Vauxhall Gardens display, Boy Too discovered he needed the loo, and as his control is still a bit precarious, we rushed him to the nearest one.  By which time it was fairly obvious that he had Had Enough, so we went to the café and had lunch before walking through the Barbican to Moorgate, and thence to Liverpool Street.  Boy Too fell fast asleep on the train to Higham's Park, and then history repeated itself as he, too, failed to ask for the potty when  he needed a poo!  Fortunately Granda was there to cope...

Next time I take the boys there, we must start at the Regency-era displays, as I haven't been through the Victorian shopping street for many years, and rather long to!  

But the memory that will stay with me today is talking about horse-drawn carriages with the Boy, and his anxious face as he asked, "But what if the horses get tired?"  I didn't know whether to tell him about stage-coaches or about Black Beauty.  In the end a little of both....

Grandparents' Rally

When we first bought our motor home, I joined the Caravan Club, largely because we can get decent insurance through them.  But they also run rallies on nearly every weekend throughout the year, and although we are not especially social people, we did book in to a couple, to see what they were like.  The first was back in February, in the wet and the mud, but this one was designed specially for grandparents with their grandchildren.

When we booked this, back in December last year, we didn't really realise how much Boy Too would have matured - well, one knew, but he was really only a baby last December, so we didn't invite him (next year, for sure), but we did invite the Boy.  I met him at the McDonald's outside Warren Street Station (I had arrived slightly earlier than them, so bought myself an OJ), and by the time we had got home, The Swan Whisperer (aka Granda) had more-or-less loaded the car and we were ready to set off.

Our first port of call was my parents', where the stuff that was in the car was transferred to the motor home, and after a sandwich lunch (and three games of "Snatch a bundle", my poor mother!) we set off to the venue at a place called Birdham, near Chichester.  The rally was held on a large meadow, with plenty of room for the children - there were about ten, ranging in age from about 12 to 18 months - to run about and play.  The Boy leapt out of the van even before we had parked up, and was seen learning to play croquet, although the hoops didn't come out again over the weekend.

As we weren't going to move, we set up our awning tent, with slightly more success than last time - for a start, we had tent pegs, although we needed strong elastic bands (I'll get some hair elastics) for the inner pegs.  It wouldn't do to sleep in, as there would be a massive draught under the van, and anyway, we still can't quite get it as it should be.  But it was good enough for a fine weekend, and we put our picnic table out there, and our chairs.  The Boy did demand to eat the final breakfast indoors - after all, he hasn't eaten at that table as often as we do! 

When we were set up, it was time to get supper, and we all demolished sausages, mash and beans, although none of us were quite sure of the leeks.... but they were okay.  Pudding was fresh mango, which was lovely.  Then the Boy disappeared again and was found playing football, until he discovered he'd lost his watch (a slap watch, and they do come out - I've lost one in my time).  Fortunately, someone found it for him, after which we confiscated it and he didn't have it back until the end of the weekend.  At nine o'clock it was all but dark, so I called him in, and helped him shower while Granda got his bed ready.  And after a story he snuggled down and we, too, went to bed, although for some reason I didn't sleep well.  Which meant that I heard the distant fireworks that signalled the end of Cowes Week!

On the Saturday, it was All Systems Go from the start.  The Boy did spend quite a lot of the early part of the morning rushing round playing football and bandits and goodness knows what else with his new-found friends, his joy only slightly marred by the fact that his (very cheap) water-pistol stopped working.  However, there were a couple of hours of craft activities arranged, including making Elmer the Elephant out of the tops of milk-cartons.  The Boy's actually won, although he himself didn't think it was the best:

They also made (delicious) mini-pizzas on muffin bases, topped with tomato puree and grated cheese, and then the toppings of your choice - peppers, frankfurter sausages, ham, pineapple, sweetcorn, etc. 

That was the foundation for lunch, which in our case also included bacon and avocado sandwiches (the Boy didn't want avocado, fair enough) and corn-on-the-cob.  Then technically there was nap time - and I certainly went to sleep - but then there was the Big Water Fight, and my menfolk signally failed to get into their swimming costumes and came back exhausted and rather cold

Then there were more games, including skittles, and a film for the children ("The Secret Life of Pets"), and a barbecue.... and it was 9:00 again before I could get a very dirty, very tired Boy indoors for a much-needed shower and bed!

These rallies always end with "Flag" at 11:00 on Sundays, when notices are given out, the organisers are thanked, prizes are distributed and the raffle is drawn, with the added excitement that all the children had been given two raffle tickets and were guaranteed two prizes - a big stuffed toy and a little one.  Then, of course, many of the main raffle prizes were toys, and the children ended up choosing them, too - my Boy chose a set of "Boom" bat and ball. 

And then back to my parents' for lunch, more Snatch-a-bundle, and even two games of chess with Great-Ba, the second of which, to everybody's amazement, ended in stalemate!  Ba is not one to allow a child to win, and was genuinely congratulatory.

We drove back to London along the sea, enjoying the ships in Shoreham Harbour, and only turning to the M23 when we had to - we didn't want to go into Brighton.  It was a slow old journey, but we got there in the end, and the Daughter produced omelettes all round as we were hungry.  And eventually home by 9:30 pm.

The V&A Museum of Childhood, Bethnal Green

The Daughter had to go to her office today, so we arranged to pick up the Boys from there.  The big question was, what to do?  The South Kensington museums might have been a plan, but they are always jam-packed solid in the summer holidays.  But the Museum of Childhood is more off the beaten track, although we've all been there several times ("I went with my class when I was in Reception" said The Boy), and I found on their website that they had various activities for children during the morning.

We arrived at about 11:00, and our first port of call was the loos.  Boy Too has only recently learnt to do without nappies (he won't be three for another month, so really good going), and it is only really during the last week or so that it has been possible to take him out without several changes of clothing - even now, his mother sends him out with several changes and the collapsible potty, just in case!  But he is learning to go when he is taken, and we had no trouble at all with him today.  In fact, the only problem was that there were no towels in the ladies (The Boy had visited the gents with his grandfather), and he absolutely hates hand-driers and won't use them.  "Well," I said, "You'll just have to stay damp, then, or dry your hands on your trousers."

At 11:15, there was a talk advertised with "the opportunity to touch and feel the object".  Today it was teddy bears.  The talks were billed as suitable for 4 years old and up, and indeed Boy Too got bored so Granda took him off to do something else, while the Boy sat squarely on the rug and joined in to the fullest, discussing famous teddy-bears and remembering Winnie-the-Pooh's friends, and things like that.  The talk lasted 30 minutes, and then we were dismissed with a reminder that there would be story-time at noon.  The Boy wanted to go to that, so we looked round the museum for a quarter of an hour until it was time for the story, whereupon I took him back down to that space, and he sat, entranced, to listen to a story of how the tortoise got his shell....  The story was extremely well told, with no illustrations (except for an African drum) but lots of different voices, and getting the children to join in to remember which animals had tried to get the leopard away from his drum....

Once that was over, we went and had a look around the moving, electric and visual toys and then it was time for lunch.  We decided we'd rather go back to Liverpool Street Station to have that, as the food provided by the museum is really rather expensive for what it is.  So we got on a bus to Liverpool Street, with the Boy and me upstairs and Boy Too in his pushchair (which he has nearly outgrown) downstairs with Granda.  Boy Too dozed off during the journey, and slept through lunch at Pret a Manger, but woke up once we were in the train to Wood Street, and ate his sandwich and drank his juice very happily then!  He had also thoroughly enjoyed the museum, glued to some of the display cabinets.

Although much of the museum is geared to adults, there's plenty for children to do and enjoy there.  I commend it as a good morning's outing with Infant and early Junior ages.

July Holiday: 30 July

We spent the night in the Cité Europe car park, as so often before, and in the morning I went over to Carrefour and did a last shop.  Maddeningly, they didn't have any dried flageolets, which I'd seen in every other supermarket I had shopped in during the week!  Grrr.  And I bought too much yoghurt and cheese, but we'll eat them.

Then it was time to go through the check in for the Shuttle - we were very unimpressed by the so-called heightened French security, they didn't even bother to look at our passports!  We squeezed on to the shuttle before the one we were booked on, which is always pleasing, and were back in the UK by about noon, UK time.  We stopped at Maidstone Services to have lunch, and were home by 14:30.  Now unpacked and tidied up (mostly) and catching up!