It’s been a miserable winter for our monthly play street sessions, with a couple cancelled due to the weather and another when the kids only lasted outdoors for an hour. We also wondered if, weather aside, playing out on our street might be ‘running out of steam’, as one neighbour put it. Those of us who had young kids when it started in earnest four years ago now have kids who have grown out of it, or are just about to. Continue reading
This flyer came through my door today. Continue reading
Before the glow subsides completely…
Mr Suburbanite captured this moment – me setting off with a group of about 30 adults and kids to the launch event for the A105 cycle lanes, on the best Mothering Sunday ever.
I’m relatively new to Twitter, and most of my tweets get (and deserve) very little attention. I’m happy if I get a handful of likes, and retweets are unexpected. But a couple of my recent tweets have gone out of control.
This one was retweeted over 240 times:
It’s the last day of the Cutester’s Christmas holidays (the Redster is off until Monday, for goodness’ sake) and Mr Suburbanite is back at work.
So what to do today?
What we’d all really like to do is go to the cinema and watch Paddington 2.
THAT FEELING when you get to have the conversation you’ve rehearsed in your head a dozen times 🙂
I was cycling on a narrow residential road and the usual thing happened. When I say usual, this takes place roughly every second or third time I cycle on this particular street, a rat run that’s part of my route home from school. A driver (in a white van, on this occasion) accelerated up behind me, and when I kept my course bang in the middle of the road, began honking his horn and shouting.
This month saw the fulfilment of a year’s worth of yearning, when I brought this beauty home.
The Cutester is going away on her first residential school trip in two weeks’ time – five nights away from home, the longest in her ten years of existence. She is of course torn between excitement and terror.
I was trying to calm her fears one bedtime (What if I start throwing up in the middle of the night? What if I cry and everyone calls me a cry baby?) when out of the blue she said, “Can I walk to school on my own tomorrow?”
This week – before it reached 33C but probably wasn’t far off 30 – I had to be in the centre of town for a meeting. I dithered about my mode of transport for almost a minute before deciding to cycle. The tube would have been unbearable, and anyway I was up for an adventure. Continue reading
Our tandem transformed the school run, because I could take the 8-year-old Cutester on any road I feel confident to cycle on myself, without fearing for her safety. (You have to be pretty confident to ride the 1.7 mile route to her school, on roads designed to terrify anyone who dares to travel outside a car.)
It’s been working really well and I didn’t envisage any change of plan for the foreseeable future until…
“Mummy, can I ride my own bike to school next week?”