The pros and cons of staying in a yurt

There's is nothing like a new experience so this year, instead of an idyllic week's camping the sunshine in Robins Hoods Bay, we opted for staying in a yurt in the pouring rain in Pembrokeshire. If you've never stayed in a yurt this entry might be a useful guide. Or maybe not. Anyway I've decided to do some pros and cons of yurt because, well, the world needs to know frankly.




1. Yurts look really beautiful from the inside. Wooden balcony and fire pit overlooking the view, carved wood, wood burning stove and logs, and in our case two gorgeous leather sofa beds. Lovely.

Of course once you get the beds out and manoeuvre them into the only configuration possible in the limited space you won't turn them back into sofa beds for a full week as it's just too damn hard. So then it looks less beautiful and more like, well, a squat.


2. It's dry and warm in a yurt in the rain. And you don't have to worry about loosening guy ropes and leaking seams. The sound of rain on the roof while you are snuggled up inside warm and dry is truly lovely.

But in the rain it pretty much doesn't matter what camping residence you choose you are going to be going to bed at the same time as the kids. Or if you're lucky you could be swigging warm wine from a mug whilst trying to read the guidebook's short section on "wet weather destinations" by the light of an inadequate torch before you hit the sack a whole half hour after they drop off. I've never felt so relaxed.

3. If you worry about bugs let's just say a yurt wouldn't be your best option. I can still feel the inch long beetle inside my shoe as I type this 5 weeks later.

4. Equally if you worry about rodents you might want to give a yurt a miss. We shared a packet of honey roasted peanuts with what I'm hoping was a very small cute sweet toothed fieldmouse. Of course it could have been a rat.

5. Our yurt had a stand up hob and sink. Really this is a good benefit. I could cook bacon sandwiches inside while other more hardy campers were having barbeques under umbrellas.

But because of the size of a yurt it only came with one table and four chairs. The table was permanently positioned on the balcony, which was frankly optimistic in Wales. The chairs were movable, of course. But just as inevitably we forgot to move them out of the rain and back inside the yurt on more than one occasion. The thought of sodden bottoms made breakfast in bed the only option. I didn't appreciate the kids getting porridge on my pillow.

6. All good points and minor amusements aside there is one factor we still can't ignore. Better than a tent or not, a yurt still doesn't have a toilet. So maybe not getting to drink much wine with my husband was actually a good thing. At least it meant I spent less time trudging across the field in the dark and rain to have a wee watched by a swallow. Ah the countryside.

But don't let me put you off...

Moving On

This is going to be a tricky week for me. My youngest daughter is moving on and I have to try and not burst into tears whenever someone says the "g" word. For the record I am quite possibly the world's biggest sop, especially when it comes to the children, and holding back the tears is not exactly something I excel at. Usually in public. Maybe that's why I keep being followed by life coaches and hypnotists on Twitter.

Anyway back in 2008 I wrote an article for Link Magazine after my eldest daughter started going to Endcliffe Playgroup. It's a gem of a little setting where I discovered I could leave her for a few hours a week to gain a bit of independence while I focused on my baby and had a bit of a break. I wish I could find the article, but I know that essentially I wrote about her beginning to grow up and me having to get used to the idea. Now of course I understand that it was the first step in a very long process of letting go that seems to go along with having children.


I know, I know. It's a cliche to say "how time flies" but now it seems to be 2012 and I really have no clue where on earth the time went.  When Tilly was little people said the time from birth until they start school is gone in a moment. There have been many times when I found that extremely hard to believe (particularly when they wouldn't sleep, wouldn't eat, threw their faces to the floor in full scale tantrum in car parks that kind of thing). But regardless of all that it's here. The last week of my youngest being a preschooler.


I know now that her starting school in September will be hellish for me. Hopefully not so for her. And hopefully I'll hold it together until I get out of the classroom. But before we reach the next bit of letting go we have to get through this week.


And this week includes me and Phoebe saying goodbye to the very playgroup that helped me out in 2008. She goes to another setting too, and don't get me wrong it's been lovely, but Endcliffe is different. They are a charity and do what they do because they love it, it's as simple as that. They are small and welcoming and have made it possible for me to actually be a part of her preschool learning as a mum, occasional helper and even committee member, whilst still giving her and me some time to ourselves and independence.


I know the staff extremely well and I trust them. I have watched them help so many children with differing needs, and have enjoyed being there as a customer and now as a friend. Phoebe will undoubtedly miss playgroup, and particularly the close friends she has made there. But of course it's time to open the doors for some more little ones and for Phoebe to go through some bigger ones (usually manned by the Headteacher).


I'll give the staff cards and gifts to say thank you, and donate something too for the new children to have fun with. But my final gesture is to ask you to help me spread the word about this place.


You can find playgroup in Endcliffe Methodist Church Hall on Ecclesall Road on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays 9-11.30. It costs £7.25 a session, runs in term time, takes vouchers and all that jazz. And we have a regular toddler group on a Friday morning too from 9.15.

Please email endcliffeplaygroup@talktalk.net to arrange a free visit or call Gina on 0114 2670630. Or try Facebook or Twitter or all those usual means of contact.

So if you live in Sheffield and have a little one who is aged two to four (or turning 2 soon) try it out for free in September. If you know someone who is talking about their little one taking a step to independence please tell them about us. If you don't know anyone with kids heck just send this blog out into the ether anyway what harm can it do?

Thank you. Now I'm going to try not to think about change too much for a minute or two, and go and eat biscuits instead.

Tweezers

Well it's been a while. To be honest I got a bit distracted by something else I've been doing (I've been writing for this), but I'm coming to terms with multiple blog personas so I'm back.

And with what more worthy a topic than...eyebrows. Well you can't just come back with a big life changing topic after several months off can you?

So I had my eyebrows tweezed this morning. To some of you this is perhaps not noteworthy. Maybe you have tweezed/waxed your eyebrows for years. Maybe you don't care about the perfect arch and have never even considered it. Maybe you are a man and don't even know what I'm on about. Or maybe like me you have secretly wondered if you did it whether it would turn you into a siren.

Well I'm here to report that having perfect eyebrows does not make you look slimmer. I know it was an unlikely outcome but you can but hope.

So how did I make the momentous leap? I was trying to have a haircut which I hadn't remembered to book. They couldn't fit me in at the hairdressers so I wandered hopelessly down Abbeydale Road in the pouring rain and randomly decided to take the leap. I know, why eyebrows? Why not a leg wax, a new shade of paint or a tattoo? (Abbeydale Road has a lot to offer on a rainy Friday morning you know). Well they didn't have much time, I have very little cash and I'm a wimp.

I suggested the use of wax. The beautician sucked air through her teeth. Well probably not but it's a lovely image isn't it? Anyway she suggested tweezers. I don't need to go into much detail sufficed to say she pulled out lots of hairs that were frankly invisible to the human eye. The first eye didn't hurt much, the second one was agony. Again I'm exaggerating for effect but it's creative licence.

Afterwards she showed me the results. And then put some make up on to cover up the red bit of skin that "had undergone trauma". I hope it doesn't need counselling.

I came home and after several hours asked the girls if my eyebrows looked different. They looked at me for a prolonged period then said "no". I don't blame them. I can't see any difference either. It was a pretty pointless exercise being ginger and all.

I will be back to the salon. Because the beautician was actually lovely and I deserve a treat every now and again. But maybe next time it'll be something with a more noticeable outcome, or at the very least less pain. And I still need a flipping haircut...

Growing Up

My six year old has, in no uncertain terms, asserted that she now doesn't like kisses. Maybe it's been happening gradually over time but it feels like turning six did this to her. Kiss her, however lightly, and she wipes it off with the back of her hand or worse still her sleeve. Like I'm some kind of aged lipstick covered relative.

I have tried explaining that I won't rush at her with a slobbery mouth. I've tried getting Phoebe to chase her around the kitchen. But to no avail. She no longer wishes to be kissed.

Thinking about this makes me want to cry. And when I think of the phase she went through when everything had to be kissed better I feel so stupid. I know there were times when I sighed when she screamed at the slightest injury and offered her injured bit to be kissed. Why oh why did I moan?

Ridiculous isn't it? Growing up is a good thing. Honestly it is.

Of course I still have my Phoebe who loves kissing me all the time full on the mouth. But she's bound to change. Maybe I have only two more years of being able to kiss my children without complaint. It doesn't bear thinking about.

Thank goodness Tilly has confirmed that she still likes hugs. She quite often throws herself at me for a hug straight after dinner when I'm trying to drink a cup of tea and up until recently I haven't always been welcoming. I sometimes favour personal space over minor burns.

But this is a message to all mums and dads with children younger than mine. I urge you. Put the tea down. And kiss it all better. While you are still allowed.

Norton Farmers Market

Oh my word it was cold today. I couldn't feel my toes. I sent Paul to the car to find warmer clothes for me and he came back with:

a) a hat - the dubious green one that makes me look like a convict but at least it kept my ears warm, and

b) one fingerless glove with an unravelled thumb.

I donned the cold weather equipment and put a Folkmanis Kangaroo puppet on my other hand. I tried the lion but it didn't offer as much warmth.

It is a lovely market but was a slow day today. Maybe because of the cold. I did seem to sell several copies of bilingual books. Maybe the cold weather had everyone dreaming of Spain and the South of France.

The girls had fun with Paul and everything was weirdly relaxed. They went to Graves Park, spent quite a long time playing in the cafe to keep warm, and generally larked about. The larking did end up with Tilly getting her hair caught in my gazebo zip (which I wouldn't have thought possible) but even that was more comical than painful. I gave them both £2 to spend at one point and they came back with a jar of sweets to share between them (what, cooperation?) and a plant for me. I'm not sure quite what was going on.

After a large pasta bolognese, rhubarb crumble (with Rhubarb from the market of course) and two cups of tea I've finally thawed out. I'm doing Totley farmer's market tomorrow and I'll be taking ski clothing.

Birthday Girl

I thought it might be helpful for some future party planning parents if I blogged Tilly's 6th party. She's a bit into science (and maths, and well pretty much everything that's a bit hard for me to understand) so was very happy with the idea of a science party. I looked into getting a professional party company to do it but the price was somewhat prohibitive. Paul and I are muchmore reasonable.

I should also say we had lots of help. One friend is an artist and painted a sign for Tilly to go outside the cafe. Some of my lovely mum friends stayed to help out with the activities and the kids and my best friend made a fabulous cake. Plus the venue belonged to my lovely friend and she even arranged a photographer who took photos throughout the whole party. It truly was a collaborative and smiley event.

We themed the party loosely around the senses and Paul drew a representation of each on a large piece of paper. I made some less convincing pictures of each activity and throughout the party the girls attached the pictures to the sense they thought they used most. I particularly loved the fact that they put their hands up. I don't offer command such respect.

As everyone arrived we started by doing scratch space decorations, and colouring in spinners. We then tried to spin them for the longest time as we counted together.

In the other room we'd laid out bubble wrap and got the kids to try and cross it without popping any bubbles, then by popping as many as possible. After that we let them loose popping mad, including a game of musical popping bumps. The satisfaction of popping bubbles needed to be enough to cover up the fact that I forgot to choose a winner. They didn't seem to mind.

Then we got into two teams and tried to make the tallest tower out of cocktail sticks and marshmallows and then cheesy puffs. I noticed Tilly chose to be in Paul's team which was very sensible if she had any hope of building anything. His were marginally better than mine but they were both essentially hopeless - but lots of fun. They liked messing about with them making kebabs and eating a few afterwards. Again I said they could eat two, and that's how many they ate. I'm either terrifying or the girls were just extremely well behaved.

There was a smelling game where I'd brought pots of smelly things for them guess including coffee, curry and oranges. Tilly's favourite game was magnified pictures of things (taken using Paul's microscope). These included Lego, toothbrush bristles, scissors, playmobil etc. They guessed Hello Kitty only having seen a tiny section of pink bow, so not all that science focused then.

The girls used straws to move smarties about via suction, and then ate them so that was popular. Phoebe couldn't do it bless her - but this was the only thing she struggled with and was two years younger than everyone else so did really well. And she liked the extra "make up for it" smarties...

My favourite "experiment" was balloon rockets. Each child had a long balloon blown up, and held closed with a bagfastener, while we attached a short straw onto the top with sellotape. We then threaded the straw into a long piece of string stretched across the room and raced two at a time.

We also had pass the parcel with book prizes (this time I had a pack of Cat in the Hat reading books from Book People) split up into each layer. I don't often put sweets in Pass the Parcel. I'm probably a big disappointment as a mother.

The girls also decorated canvas bags to take their things home in. And they did some barmy balloon larking about.

Harland Cafe catered with lovely sandwiches, chips, brownies, ice cream and juice and my best friend made the cake and decorated it with the solar system. This was a complete surprise for Tilly and she loved it.

We ended up missing out several things including watching "Wallace and Gromit's Cracking Contraptions" tornado tube (this joins two plastic bottled together and you can create a tornado inside - we've since done this at home and it's very popular) and exploding coke (we couldn't get hold of mentos and ran out of time anyway).

Finally we had some instant snow which was measured out in individual plastic cups. The girls had a measured amount of water to pour in and watched the powder turn into snow. That got at least a few "wow"s so must have been popular.

Tilly said it "was the best party ever". I'm sure every birthday girl and boy says that but I'm accepting the review. And it didn't cost me upwards of £180...

Books, books, books

We reached the point at home where the books my Dad put away from my childhood can finally be unearthed. My eldest is nearly six and relishes the opportunity to choose the next book from the drawer of those books, which up until now have been too old for her.

The whole thing is fascinating. Certain books which I loved as a child are in honesty not much fun to read. I adored Milly Molly Mandy growing up, reinforced by my Dad using it as an affectionate term for me probably. I remember loving the picture in the front of the whole family lined up and labelled beneath, and the map of the village. But whole chapters revolve around her going to shop and buying things for members of her family. Not exactly scintillating stuff.

On the other hand I loved Worst Witch by Jill Murphy and now my girls are both very enthusiastic about her. And I myself laughed out loud at points. It's probably not as gripping as I thought it was going to be but that's probably something to do with my age.

Then there are the books with bits which frankly are a bit inappropriate. When I got to the chapter in “Lotta” called “the one in which Lotta nearly swears” I braced myself. It was a bit odd because the swear word was “damn” which is fairly mild in today's climate I suppose, but it still made me wince reading it to Tilly as she said it on every page. I wouldn't want them shouting it in the playground. The children were left at home alone a lot in the story which Tilly found a bit confusing and was somewhat tricky to explain. Probably the trickiest part though was when she found a pair of scissors and cut up her new jumper, then moved out to live in the next door neighbours barn. And that was just tricky because I didn't want the girls to get any ideas...

The House That Sailed Away by Pat Hutchins went well. Apart from the fact that the mother is depicted as a dense silly woman and the mother in law is a raging alcoholic. Oh and the bit about cannibals was interesting.

The best one so far though has to be Issi Noho. It's a story about a Chinese magic panda. If even includes a maths puzzle every time he uses magic so was right up Tilly's street. Ironically I don't remember reading it as a child but I must have.

And next she's picked the Borrowers. All four books in one which will take months to read probably but she's excited so I'll work out some answers for “can we just have another chapter mummy?” and get started. Just like my Dad did for me when I was little.