The end is nigh

So, the Cutester is now 9.

Ffion 9 birthday cake

I know from previous experience, in the form of her older sister, that there is a vast gulf between 8 and 9. The truth was forced on me when I took the Redster to H&M Kids just after she’d turned 9 herself, and we found the shop divided into 0-8s … and 9-14s. I had to walk past all the Hello Kitty nighties and stripy tights and buy my little girl clothes from the teenage section. I was traumatised.
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A day out with the Slimy Stuarts

Half term adventure in Wales: visiting Llancaiach Fawr – and even learning to pronounce it. (Say Clan, say Kayak, make Welsh phlegmy noise at back of throat, say Vow, make Welsh r-rolling noise with tongue, finish.)

Llancaiach Fawr Bedroom

This is one of those historical houses staffed with actual people from the 1600s, wearing doublet and hose and saying things like aye and nay and fare thee well. I love this sort of thing. (It may not be as trendy as immersive theatre but at £22 for a family ticket it’s a darn sight cheaper.) It was, we were told, the year 1645, the Civil War was raging and Colonel Prichard, the Puritan master of the house, was about to try a woman for witchcraft above stairs, if we would care to attend? Continue reading

Educating (the) Redster

Ar lan y môr mae rhosys cochion

The Redster on one of those careless summer days before the 11 plus

The Redster has started Year 6 – that’s the last year of primary school, in case you’ve lost touch – so it’s the season to include the subject of secondary schools in 95% of all conversations. I’m already bored by it, but a certain number of minutes into any conversation I find myself reciting the list of possible schools yet again. Continue reading