Places I'm Glad I Don't Live #1...

....anywhere near where this monster crocodile was found! Captured in the Philippines, this enormous salt water crocodile weighs an amazing 1075 kilos and measures 6.4 meters in length. So far it's being hailed as the biggest croc ever caught, and almost a meter longer than the previous Guinness World Records holder 'Cassius' from Australia. See that little guy behind him? That's a fully grown man. Looks like you'd fit a few of him inside this beasty.

Well Hello........Dumpling!

As you know, a couple of weeks ago our beloved rabbit Rocco died, passing away in his sleep at the grand old age of 10.5 years. When you have pets you know one day they'll be gone, but with rabbits you also have to accept that you'll have to find a new mate for the remaining bunny fairly quickly too. Rabbits are very social animals who shouldn't be kept alone, and the day after Rocco died we could see that Punky Muffin was very nervous and unsure of the changed situation. I prepared for a trip to Eindhoven to the rabbit rescue centre run by my friend Liesbeth, Opvang Franky, to find a suitable match for our widowed Madam P Muffin.
Fate, however, intervened.
Rocco died on a Wedneday, we buried him in the garden with tears and flowers on Thursday, and on Friday a new rabbit appeared in the garden. You could call it coincidence, or serendipity, or karma...we decided to call it Dumpling.

This little guy is a young buck who was in all likelihood dumped by his owners because they couldn't be bothered arranging for someone to look after him while they went on holiday. One of the next door neighbours kids found him in front of their house, frightened, hungry, thirsty and wondering how he'd gone from family pet to tossed away garbage in the space of a day. Assuming it was one of ours, the neighbour plopped him into the garden to the surprise of Punky Muffin who thankfully decided to make friends rather than attack him. I made enquiries at the vet, local petshop, and posted him on the website for lost and found animals in Holland called Amivedi, but no-one was looking for him.  A wee dumped man, Dumpling seemed the perfect name. It's also what Liesbeth calls the many 'second hand' rabbits she rescues and re-homes every year, the cast-offs of a society that thinks animals are a disposal item to be used for our entertainment until boredom sets in then thrown away under the guise of being 'set free'.  Domestic rabbits can NOT survive in the wild; they are very easy targets for cats, dogs, mean kids, cars, disease, starvation and dehydration. Even if they survive those things there is a good chance the local wild rabbits will attack and kill them to defend their territory and as for the freezing snowy winters....a definite death sentence.
Anyway, as Niels pointed out, we were lucky to have this little guy turn up, and he was extremely lucky to have been rescued in time, so his full name is Lucky Dumpling. Personlly I think it sounds like something you'd order with a side of fried rice from the local Chinese takeway, but he did have a point, so Lucky Dumpling it is. He's settled in nicely and can be seen - now minus his balls - racing around the garden all day and generally creating havoc. He's a very strange mix of colours and textures and clearly there wasn't too much planned parenting going on when he was bred. It looks like he's been held under his armpits and dunked into a glass of milk, and his fur is a mixture of long, short and in-between lengths. However we of course think he's perfect.

Normandy 3

 ...where was I...oh yes, locking up the kids. Well of course they weren't really locked up, these see-through boxes are part of a very cool attraction at Alligator Bay, a reptile park with tunnels for the kids which wind  through several of the snake exhibits. Look out points allow the kids to pop up in the midst of an enclosure full of pythons, or anacondas, etc, which was quite exciting and just scarey enough to have them screaming and squealing in only partly-faked terror. When do we we become to old to scream just for the fun of it anyway? I'm sure the power of a good yell is vastly under-rated and to be honest there are often moments in my day - usually when a deadline is rapidly approaching - when a blood curdling scream would actualy be the most appropriate response.

Apart from snakes Alligator Bay had hundreds of retiles, from lizards to turtles to (obviously) alligators. And while they are all quietly impressive, I hadn't realized how much they poop! And stink! I mean these giant tortoises are all very nice and all but the kids were like "oh my God look how big that poo is!" It really made me wonder why people would want to keep reptiles as pets. Quite apart from the bite-your-leg-off factor of course.

Well enough reptiles, we were about to leave the hamlet of Ver behind and head northwest to our second holiday house...a 15th century chapel which was recently lovingly converted into the most amazing house, in the hamlet of Cerney, which is in the middle of nowhere, about an hour's drive from Rouen. More about that shortly!



A Surprising Level of Self-Awarenesss

Carl and I were in the car the other day with our very good friends who are in their sixties. There was a short lull in the conversation and Carl leaned forward and asked "You don't have your own kids, do you?"
"No, we never did" was the answer.
"Well why not?" asked Carl.
"We wanted to but we went to the doctor when we were younger and he told us we couldn't"
There was a long pause while Carl thought about this, and we could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. Finally he leaned forward again and said in a low voice:
"I bet you're glad now".

Definitely a classic Carl moment!

Normandy 2

There are a lot of 'must sees' in Normandy and pretty much near the top of everybody's list is surely Mont Saint Michel. A rocky tidal island about 1 km off the coast (more like mud flats really), the monastry was first built in the 8th century and it's been a strategic spot for even longer. It's an impressive and beautiful site, with every rock having been built upon. From a distance it rises elegantly from the polders and tidal flats surrounding it, seeming to float magically in the bay.

On closer inspection however the illusion was somewhat shattered by the sheer numbers of tourists clambering over the Mount. The first hint was the queue for the carpark, which started about 5 km from the actual site. Have paid our 6 euros to park, we joined the swelling column of foot traffic making its way across the causeway to the Mount itself. Unfortunately the Weather Gods weren't impressed by the effort we'd all gone to just to get this far and as squalls of wind blasted us, driving rain horizontally into our faces and whipping hoods and jackets into a flapping frenzy that sounded as if we accompanied by a flock of hysterical seagulls all taking off at once, I had time to reflect on the joys of mass tourism. Yes, we knew Normandy would be busy in July, and yes we were trying to be tolerant, but my God! The people! Finally we arrived at the impressive entrance port, just in time for the rain to stop, and the wind was silenced by the high stone walls all around.

We then joined the throng of people shuffling forwards, in some places shoulder to shoulder, as we headed up the stone-paved paths (there are no roads of course). I admit I was a little disappointed to see that the paths were lined, chocka-blok, with souvenir shops. Signs in Japanese, German, Enlgish and 20 other languages tried to entice tourists in to buy postcards, place mats, calendars and t-towels all printed with pictures of the Mount. Other popular items seemed to be nougat, little wooden boats, and replicas of every possible type of ancient weapon. Predictably the boys were entranced by the swords, muskets, battle axes and morning stars and reluctantly agreed to keep shuffling rather than get side tracked.

So it was nice to see Mount St Michel but if you're planning a trip I suggest you go in spring or late autumn to enjoy the experience more. To the credit of the French, none fo the shops had neon signs and none were visible above the walls/ramparts from a distance. It was only once you entered that the tourist trade took over. Apparently it's also very beautiful at night but once we'd clambered down to the bottom we were pretty intent on just getting away from the crowds.

However nearby (literally about 4 km) was a place the kids were really keen to see; Alligator Bay. I know, coming all the way to France and then visiting a reptile park is kind of odd, but it looked very cool and we weren't disappointed. Plus it was an opportunity to lock up the kids....

...but more about that next time!

Normandy 1

Our trip to Normandy, France, started as it was to pretty much continue; with a visit to an historic site. The first day we drove as far as Les Andelys, on the river Seine. Ít's about mid-way between Paris and where the river finally meets the sea, on a strategic bend which allows sweeping views over miles of the surrounding countryside. This is where Richard Lionheart built his magnificant castle, Chateau Gaillard. Niels has wanted to visit this for years.

Today there's not much more half remaining as it was intentionally demolished once the French had wrested it from the control of Richard's son and heir after a two year seige. Still, what's left is still very cool to visit and the boys enjoyed prowling around the dungeon:

 ...and part of the wall has been restored so you can see how it would have originally looked, with a striped pattern made by two different types of stone. We stayed the night in a very cool family-owned hotel in the town, with Dad working as chef in the kitchen, Mum taking care of running things and the daughter serving meals in the dining room. I highly recommend the Hotel Paris to anyone passing through the area, and if you stay, make sure to eat dinner there too! One fo the best things we discovered in France is tht when you go out for a meal as a family, there is not a separate kids meal comprised of fries and some other deep fried junk food. Instead, for the very modest price of 7 - 9 euros they just order off the regular menu and are served small portions. So Niels enjoyed two types of terrine followed by duck, while Carl scoffed down langoustines followed by delicious monk fish fillets in a delicate sauce. Heavenly! We drank their wine for them of course!

The next day we braved the traffic around Caen and (eventually) found the tiny settlement of Ver, near to Gavray, in southwestern Normandy. This was home for the next week as we settled into a converted barn and planned our day trips to nearby sites.

One of the first was to Utah Beach, one of the famous beaches from the D-Day landings. Standing on the damp sand, the wind whistling around us and watching Carl and Holger trying to get a kite in the air, it was hard to imagine what it must have been like in the early morning of 6 June 1944 when thousands and thousands of allied troops struggled to come ashore and find shelter from the hail of gunfire and shells pouring down on the from the German positions. Today it's a peace stretch of beach but then it must have seemed like hell on earth.

 There is an impressive memorial museum dedicated to the men who died here - largely American - and dotted along the shore are reminders of once took place.


While in the area we also visited the Azeville Battery, a huge network of underground tunnels topped with canon emplacements which was once home to 170 Germans. It's hard to imagine living underground like a mole in those conditions but with a clear view out to sea in the directly of the UK, it was a hugely strategic place.

It was a sobering day and a reminder that we should never take the freedoms we enjoy every day for granted. Tomorrow we decided, we'd do something a bit more cheerful, and hope for sunshine! More about that next time.

Goodbye Rocco, you will be missed

CLICK ON THE PHOTO TO ENLARGE

Last night our dear bunny Rocco died, having spent ten and a half fluffy, floppy eared and mostly fun-filled days on earth. The last few days he seemed to be a little tired, content to sit in the shade or stretch out in his favourite spot in the hutch and watch the summer showers fall. I'd booked him for a check-up with his vet today, but she didn't get the chance to say goodbye to her "turbo bunny".  After munching away on a piece of apple at dinner time, I went to close up the hutch at around 8pm and found him stretched out in the same place I'd left him, never to snore again.

Never again will we have a chuckle at Rocco having fallen asleep on duty, 'guarding' the hutch and his precious Punky Muffin; 

And she is learning to adapt to life without her dirty old man, still up for it despite being the equivalent of about 110 in human years, I guess. In recent months his efforts didn't amount to much more than a front leg - or sometimes even just an ear - draped over her but in his mind he was still the undisputed stud of the garden;

After all, they have been together for a couple of years and while she wasn't his first love, she was his last.

He was often to be seen trailing after the kids, having figured our early on that small children often leave a trail of tasty treats, and he even managed to steal a peanut butter sandwich from Carl once;

However his main achievement was stealing our hearts, and there are many people who will miss him.

Goodbye old friend. You were much loved.

Back from Normandy...

...and the second load of washing is in the machine. It's been a fun couple of weeks with lots to do...the first week we stayed in western Normandy and the theme was pretty focused on WWII and the D-Day landings, with a bit of early British history thrown in re. Richard Lionheart during a visit to Chateau Galliard. More later, including photos, but first it's a well earned gin and tonic before hitting my beloved bed, sorely missed this past fortnight.

Running in circles

You know the problem with taking a holiday is that enormous amount of work you have to finish beforehand to clear a couple of weeks free. Hence you've heard nothing from me in a while. That and the fact that life has been so very very busy with the end of the school year, camps, work, etc.....
Last week Niels had his annual Scouting camp, a week-long adventure with a group of 20+ other kids. With a theme of Lord of the Rings, the kids were woken at 11pm on the second night by a grey-bearded Gandalf, who beseeched them to destroy the cursed rings in the lava lakes of Mordor. The Scout leaders who are in charge of his group really out-did themselves this time, with an imaginative, non-stop series of adventures that culmiinated in the kids tossing their rings into a fiery inferno after trekking by moonlight through the forest near Lunteren. Goodness knows what the locals thought, hopefully they are used to Scouts getting up to all sorts of nocturnal adventures.
I collected him - and an enormous pile of washing - after seven sunny fun filled days and brought him home to his first shower in days and a welcome nights sleep. It brings back fond memories of my childhood when I would spend a week in the summer holidays at Kiwi Ranch, a horse riding camp near Rotorua. I'm pretty sure it doesn't exist any more but I have fond memories of riding horses up and down the hills overlooking Lake Kawau, trekking the paths through the pine forest and riding through creeks. By the end of the camp all the kids would be gaining confidence in their riding and we would race to the paddock in the morning to grab the fiestiest horses because they were the most fun. It was a Christian camp and we endured a couple of hours of 'education' in the evenings. I would have endured a month of such brain washing if it meant I could have stayed to ride the horses during the day! I even convinced my Mum to try and buy one of the horses - a pretty mare called Tosca - but her owner couldn't bear to part with her.

The only steed Niels got to ride on his camp was his trusty bike, but he had just as much fun regardless.

The problem with apps...and why I love Apple

In these days of booming technology, it seems our kids are learning how to use the latest computers and mobile devices faster than we can keep up. The danger is they can also find ways to bypass our security measures. We're all supposed to be super alert for instances of our innocent/ignorant family members becoming victims of the internet revolution,and my friends, I have discovered a new victim: the iChallenged husband. Before I undermine his credibility any further (and don't worry, I still love him to bits but he has taken at least a year off my life in the past week), I will offer a full explanation.
If you know me, you know I love Apple products. When I was an editor at Reed Business Information I reluctantly agreed to work with an Apple Mac next to my p.c. in order to directly edit magazine pages. Within a week...I was hooked. Apples are smarter, more logical, and just downright sexier than p.c.'s. My next love was my iPhone; it's getting a bit senior in years by now but still going strong and still awesome technology and just lovely to work with. Next step, obviously, was the iPad. I restrained myself throughout the iPad 1 hysteria but thankfully by the time iPad 2 came out hubby was also intrigued and one day wandered back into the house nonchalently after returning from Aberdeen and plopped something into my lap with a casual "here you go".  It is a gorgeous piece of technology and I can't resist stroking it working on it every day.
If there's one thing that iPads are perfect for, it's playing games. You can download thousands of free games from the Apps (applications) Store online at iTunes. You have to have an account linked to a credit card for when you want to purchase items that cost real money, such as music etc, but the range of free products is awesome. The boys love to play the jet-fighter game where they're sitting the cockpit and 'fly' the plane through a stunningly real landscape by tilting the screen in every direction in their hands. Carl's favourite is 'Tiny Zoo' where you build your own zoo and spend 'credits' slowly built up over days to purchase and breed new animals. Although you can speed up the process by buying credits with real money, my policy is that games shouldn't cost cash so don't even ask.
Last Tuesday I was at work when the phone rang. "Hello, this is Jan from the fraud division of your bank. We are seeing suspicious activity on your credit card...are you using it at the moment?" Obviously not, it was safely tucked in my wallet beside me and hubby was at home, so clearly something fishy was going on. I wasn't too worried; the bank is responsible for fraud and I've been through this with my business credit card already; it was copied when I checked into a hotel in Brussels then used to purchase a truckload of things in Lithuania, of all places. About an hour later I was home and Carl raced up to me. "Look at my zoo, I've doubled the size and bought 20 magical creatures!!!"  Alarm bells started ringing...I raced upstairs to hubby and asked with a sickening feeling of dread "honey...did you buy credits for Carl from iTunes?"
Of course not was the answer....but when Carl had shown him a screen on the iPad that demanded a password that "Mummy always fills in" his response?  HE FILLED IN THE PASSWORD. He didn't realise it was for a real account with a real credit card attached.
This is the point where I'm going to stop giving a blow by blow account because it just got so bad, so quickly. Phone calls to the bank revealed it was our fault so tough shit, phone call to Apple led to the suggestion that I send an email to customer support. Yeah, right. We didn't know how much money Carl had spent except that it was "well over 100 euros".
I sent a desperate email to Apple and didn't expect any joy. The next morning I left for a business trip to France with a sickening feeling of dread in my stomach. For almost 24 hours I heard nothing. Finally, in the car with a colleague on the way back from Paris, an email from Apple. I've seen the terms and conditions. I know all transactions are final. I know Apple doesn't own the app that Carl spent the money in. Things looked grim. The opening sentences were all standard: Hello Joanne, my name is Judy, I'll be helping you with your enquiry..." blah blah blah.  My colleague is sending worrying glances my way as I groan through the first paragraph.  It continued:  "I understand your awesome son downloaded a lot of credits in Tiny Zoo. Being a parent I understand your concerns..."  WHAT? I hadn't expected that.

 "Your sons total purchases are in excess of SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY EIGHT EUROS".

Let's just revisit that figure: 658 euros.

I'm gonna say that again: 658 euros.

In less than 30 minutes. That's about 1400 New Zealand dollars.

...."I am pleased to say I have refunded the full amount to your credit card as this was an unintentional purchase...."

This is the point where my colleague thought I had seriously lost my mind. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, I couldn't believe that a massive company like Apple would be so HUMAN as to respond in this way. Let's just say it's reaffirmed my belief in human nature and the possibility for big business to have a big heart.
So thank you Apple, and thank you friendly support girl from iTunes. And let this be a lesson to all. When you choose your passwords it's obvious that your kids shouldn't know what they are: but under no circumstances, should you ever, ever tell them to your iChallenged husband.

Udderly Charming...Not

I was putting Carl to bed the other night and as usual, on request, was lying down with him in the warm glow of his night light talking about the days' events. In order of importance according to Carl, the topics we covered were the kid who got in trouble for pooping on the floor of the gym changing room that morning (not him!), what we're doing in the summer holidays, who he played with today, etc. I was wearing a v-neck shirt which had pulled down a bit as I lay there so a bit of cleavage was showing and he looked down, pointed his finger and laughed ""Ha-ha, I can see your tits!"
Of course I didn't find this amusing so put him straight about how that (a) wasn't funny and (b) that we don't use that word. He reconsidered for a moment while I waited expectently for an apology and then said "All right...I can see your udder!"

I'm still not amused.

Here There Be Bunnies...

After all that excitement I need some food!

This must be a bumper year for wild rabbits because we've never had so many bouncing around the neighbourhood. As long as we've lived here there has been a stable local population, and the little pile of bunny poo on our driveway stands testiment to the rubbit who most evenings sits there, presumably intrigued by the scent of our rabbits who by dark are safely locked up in the Bunny Bungalow.

 However the dynamic has changed this spring; perhaps due to an increase in numbers the wild rabbits are becoming bolder, approaching our garden even during daylight hours, which has never happened before. It started a few weeks ago: I was putting Carl to bed when hubby came in and said: "I just walked out to the garage and found a wild rabbit in the hutch!" Initially I thought he was kidding; wild rabbits are (I thought)  too shy of humans to ever come into the garden, let alone hop INTO a rabbit hutch right by our back door. But then I glanced out the second floor window down into the garden and was amazed to see a large wild rabbit making very macho overtures to Punky Muffin, who was behaving for all the world like a love-struck teenager who'se just come face to face with her favourite rock star. She was practically FIZZING with excitement.

Planning to take out the competition...wild Casanova vs Rocco



Now one of the main differences between domestic and wild rabbits is their size. Pet bunnies can be far larger, and I've never had a rabbit who could squeeze more than their head through our fence to nibble on any plants unfortunate enough to grow within nibbling reach. But as I watched this big wild bunny easily squeezed like a ferret through the gate! I grabbed my camera and started clicking. He hopped, as casually as you like, up to Punky Muffin and gave her a quick lick on the nose as if to say "I'll be back for you in a moment cupcake" before heading straight for Rocco. It was pretty clear that he was aiming to take out the competition so I chucked my camera on the bed and raced downstairs to chase away Casanova before poor old blind Rocco, who was first stunned then extremely pissed off that a strange bunny suddenly barged into his territory (and him), ended up in a fight he surely couldn't win.

An hour later emergency fence alterations were in place, with extra netting fitted to hopefully keep out the marauder. Days passed and the wild rabbit never returned so we assumed it was a one-off event.

This morning however, as I was working at the table in the kitchen, my attention was cuaght by Punky. For a mute animal rabbits are surprsing eloquent and her body language was saying as plain as day: "OMG who the hell are YOU??" On the other side of the fence was a juvenile wild bunny, about as big as my fist, hopping back and forwards excitedly. Whether it saw Punky Muffin as a Mummy or a Hot Mama wasn't clear but she was out of her mind with excitement at this new development. I walked out to check it wasn't a pet rabbit that had escaped but as soon as it saw me it took off at the speed of sound to a nearby stand of trees, so it's definitely wild. It was gone too fast to take a photo so I've snapped some of Punky in her hyper-excited state.



"Did ya see him? Did ya see him? Didya? Didya? Didya see that?"



Rocco typically missed the whole thing because he's blind, but did his best to calm down Punky Muffin in the only way he knows how...

"Forget ze boy...only a man can give you ze lurve you need..."

Whether she is in the mood for love or war isn't clear but she's now patrolling the fencline like a doberman, hoping to spot her new acquaintance again. The rabbit fencing is clearly sufficient to keep out the wild bunnies but frankly she's looking a bit disappointed about that.

Back To Nature

Buzz Lightyear enjoys a late breakfast

Now that Carl's foot is well on the way to mending - although he still insists he wants to keep the crutches until school starts again (no chance) - I thought I'd share more of our camping adventures with you all. For years I have resisted hubby's attempts to go camping with the kids. It all just seemed too stressful when they were small. We did try it in Sweden when Niels was 2 years old. We borrowed a large tent and headed off, stopping halfway at what turned out to be a crowded campground by a lake. Rain the previous two days combined with the sheer number of people had made the ground muddy and slippery, and as we struggled to figure out exactly where each of the 284 support poles in the damned tent were supposed to go it was inevitable that our lively 2 year old would get bored and wander off.
At that time Niels favourite activity was to try and climb into cars and pretend to drive them. Any car. Not just ours. A passing stranger, fellow camper or lurking child-snatcher would be his best friend if he could only sit in the front seat. After hauling him a couple of times out of cars nearby that belonged to other families he seemed to get the idea.

It was time for a new distraction. While we were still tied up in sheets of canvas (all the wrong shape! How can you make a tent out of 27 pieces of randomly cut canvas!?) Niels spotted the lake through the trees and that was it. His new favourite activity was called 'Run-to-the-lake-then-stop-when-the-water-reaches-my-chin-and-sit-down!'

Can't you see I'm busy?!

He literally would run into the water and plop himself down on the sandy bottom, the only sign of where he had disappeared being a stream of small bubbles gurgling out the sides of his nappy. To a stressed-out Mum who has just spent 8 hours or more in a car and is facing the prospect of sleeping in the mud with a kid determined to either disappear or drown, it was all too much. The rest is a bit of a blur but I vividly remember desperately just wanting to go home; Niels was crying, I was crying, hubby was still optimistically trying to get the damned tent up and I felt like the world was ending. Looking back I can laugh and wonder why I got so wound up about it, but back then it seemed like this was a cruel self-inflicted torture, certainly not a holiday.

The rest of the holiday went ok - especially once we gave up on the tent and stayed in a cabin - but my enthusiasm for camping with kids had evaporated.
Scroll forward 8 years and it didn't seem like such a big deal. The boys are older, more self sufficient, toilet trained, passed the age when they get tummy upsets and holiday illnesses. Surely nothing could go wrong...
The first night we were finally in our tent, me in the middle with a boy on either side like a mother hen with her chicks under her wings. It was dark and I was hoping I wouldn't notice how hard the ground and how thin my mattress was, when Niels said "Mum, my tummy feels funny........I feel sick!"

Frantically  fumbling with the zips I just managed to get the tent open and Niels outside before HEEEEEEAAAAAVVVVEEE! He puked everything he'd eaten during the day in a big steaming pile. Lovely.

Our (second) campsite

Needless to say the next morning we re-located to a new site. After taking ten minutes of agonizing stretching before I was able to heave my aching bones into an upright position, I staggered off to the office to organize a new site for the next night. By the time I had returned to prepare breakfast I was almost able to stand upright, and once the kids were off playing I headed home to fetch the thicker cushion we use for our garden bench to sleep on.

Lazy days...

Night 2. My new mattress is softer but only about 1.2 metres long. I'm 1.65 so obviously there's quite a bit of overhang. Utilising spare clothes wadded into piles I managed to create a narrow mattress just long enough to sleep on, assuming I don't need to move until morning. Rolling over is out of the question. We're all a bit tired tonight so the boys fell asleep quickly, leaving me to try not to think about rolling over or how stony the ground is. For hours. Eventually I must have fallen asleep because Carl woke me up at 3:45. "Mum my bed's wet...did you spill something?"  Unbelievable, he hasn't peed the bed for years but here we are. And we're not talking about a littel boy pee, we're talking a 10 litre "look what a man I am" flood which had half the tent awash. All the bedding had to be dragged out, the floor mopped, new pjs found and even another pillow made. Eventually, faced with the reality of 2 beds for 3 people, Carl crawled into my sleeping bag and promptly fell asleep, leaving me trying not to think about how numb my arm under his head was. And how I now couldn't lie flat. Until dawn.

That morning my mission home was to fetch new bedding for Carl and do two huge loads of washing.
Night 3. Nobody puked. Nobody peed. But we still hit the trifecta because Carl had injured his foot jumping into the lake and woke up crying at 2am with it swollen and sore. Eventually after lots of cuddles he settled down and slept again, once more leaving me to watch the tent slowly lighten as dawn approached.
So yes, our camping trip was a success, but I can't say it was easy. The kids had a blast and I enjoyed sharing it with them, but our next trip will also be within a short distance of home, I can promise you that. And I'm taking my bed.

Roughin' It

De Vrolijk campground, Laren Gld.

With hubby away, the kids having a two week holiday and gorgeous weather arriving just in time, I decided to take the boys on an adventure and take them camping for the first time in their lives. I've been camping a few times in the past; our first holiday as a couple was camping in Denmark, while one of our most adventurous was camping in the Rocky Mountains in Canada, listening to the crackle of large animals prowling the woods at night while I cowered under a thin sheet of canvas, hoping the steel bear-bins in which we had to store our food were far enough away to ensure the bears would stay 'over there' somewhere. We counted 23 bears -both grizzlies and black bears - on that holiday but fortunately never had to share a tent with any of  them.

This time I chose the campground 'De Vrolijk' which is about 15 minutes away in Laren. I figured it paid to be close to home in case it all ended in tears and we needed to bail out. Plus the camp has a large lake with a beach where the kids can swim and play, a major attraction.

Long story short, our camping adventure was a huge success, with the exception of Carl's accident on the final evening. At about 5 pm, just as we were getting ready to think about cooking some dinner (tinned meatballs, mosquitoes and sand with rice) over our single spirit burner stove, he did one jump too many into the lake and landed awkwardly on his right foot. His toes dug into the mud, his weight landed on the back of his heel, and he ended up with a very sore foot. The next morning it was swollen up impressively and he couldn't put any weight on it at all. Hmmmmmmm. Cue forward a couple of hours to us sitting in the ER at Zutphen hospital. My back was aching from piggy-backing him everywhere and he was looking sideways at the wheelchair a nurse was trying to coax him into.

The triage nurse who first saw him suspected a broken ankle (OMG!), but x-rays eventually showed no broken bones, but plenty of swelling and deep bruising. At this point Carl cheered up considerably when he realized that he would be getting an impressive pressure bandage, and this was nothing to the sheer joy the next morning when I picked up some crutches for him so he could be mobile.

So far his biggest concern is that the bandage and crutches remain a permanent fixture until he's been at school for at least one day, and he wants me to email photos of him, fully handicapped, to his teachers as an advanced warning. Niels is jealous of Carl's special status and between moments of muttering darkly looks like he wants to chuck himself under the next car to get crutches of his own. I wonder what age we are when getting injured is no longer fun and exciting? About the age we stop having a parent to fuss over us 24/7 I suspect.

He's Back!

Crisis averted, Monkey has been found. Phew! Turns out he was under Carl's mattress, having ended up under there when hubby changed the sheets. It's so hard to get good staff these days...
Smiles all round :)

MISSING! One Slightly Worn Monkey...

WANTED: ONE MUCH LOVED MONKEY, SLIGHTLY WORN

Something truly terrible has happened...the fear of every parent with young children. Carl's Monkey has Gone Missing. MISSING I tell you! This is the same Monkey who has comforted him every night for the past four years, been dragged on and off countless planes to New Zealand, Singapore, Scotland, England, Denmark and more countries besides. He's survived hundreds of hours of car trips doubling as a pillow, tens of thousands of kilometers stuffed in hand luggage, and countless washes in the machine, Scout sleep-overs, days being dragged in and out of the sandpit, piles of lego, bicycle bags...and yet he's never gone missing before. To be honest he's rarely more than a meter from Carl's reach outside of school hours, and has been smuggled into school on more than one occasion. 

The photo above is just one of countless which I have found on my iPhone over the years, taken in secret by Carl when I'm not looking in homage to his best buddy. And here he is Christmas 2009, joining in the fun, as always within reach of Carl:

Monkey comes from Build A Bear, that chain of shops where kids get to pick out their cuddly toy of choice, stuff it, put in a heart, help sew them up then convince their parents to spend a small fortune on cute outfits. 

This is Monkey dressed in the Star Wars Stormtrooper outfit I brought back from Houston last year:

Since then Carl's looking a bit better (more teeth) and Monkey is looking a bit more tattered (less fur) but they are still inseparable. Which is why No 2 sobbed himself to sleep tonight while his parents turned the house upside down looking for a small brown primate whose 'birth certificate' lists him as Triceratops Transformer, but we all know simply as...Monkey.

Growing Up

Niels practising, 26/3/2011

Sometimes kids just seem to grow overnight, and that's certainly been the case with both No. 1 and No. 2 lately. Every time I turn around, Carl seems to have grown into the next size of jeans, and tomorrow I'll have to weed out all the too-small t-shirts from Niels cupboard. Where have my little boys gone?
So here's a couple of photos to keep the family updated in case you don't recognise us next time we arrive at the Airport and think I've traded in my little snuggle-muffins for a couple of strapping Dutch boys. As Carl would say in his best posh British accent, "bloody hell lads, what's going on here then?"

Ben 10 to the rescue!

Spring Has Sprung!

It seemed like it would never happen but suddenly spring has arrived. The grass has greened ever so slightly, crocuses and snowdrops are blooming, and even the daffodils are on the verge of bursting into flower any minute. The wildlife is getting that itching feeling again too; our resident blackbird is once again lining her nest right by the back door, scaring the life out of me whenever I walk past by shooting past horizontally at nose level when I approach the door. Last week I was amazed to see a falcon perched on top of our bird feeding table, only about 4 metres from the window. At first I had a bit of a panic as I thought he was eyeing up Rocco, obliviously muching bird seed that had fallen to the ground below. However given that the rabbit was about 5 times larger than falcon, I'm pretty sure it was actually eyeballing the littel hole at the entrance to the burrow of our resident field mouse, who has hibernated the past few winters at the base of our magnolia tree. I realise this is a specatacularly bad photo but he kept flying away to a nearby tree every time he saw me approaching the window with a camera:

Spring is also the time of year for pruning some trees, and I was lucky to time a visit to my friend in Vorden just when she was having the willows on her farm cut back. Willow branches are utterly delicious - if you happen to be a rabbit - and provide a welcome snack at this time of year when the vegetation has been nibbled to bare dirt after a long winter. So I filled up the back of the car and brought home a load. The bunnies were ecstatic with my offering, less so with my trying to get photos of them eating it.


Monsieur Rocco A. Rabbit says: "Yezz? Can you not zee I am buzy, eating ze willow...enough of your zilly photoz, be gone!"

 In the mean time I've stored the pile in a corner of the garden - having rabbits is not really conducive to tidy gardening anyway - and give them a couple of branches a day to munch through, which keeps them busy and happy. Unless I try to take a photo, of course.


Madam Punky M. Rabbit is NOT AMUSED



...And It's Still Winter...

For the third year in a row, hubby took the boys to Sweden to visit their Aunty and cousins in the spring break. I say spring, but as you can see by the photos, winter still has a strong grip on Scandinavia. However there were no complaints about the cold (mainly because I wasn't there!), and they all had a great time. It was also the boy's first ever time on skis, and they spent some time burning off energy cross-country skiing.

Niels was determined not to be photographed, so this photo above is the only one of him on skis. Carl, a natural exhibitionist, was only too happy to pose of course. He also celebrated his seventh birthday with his cousins; it's hard to believe he's growing up so fast. Last night he came downstairs half an hour after I'd put hi mto bed to announce he had discovered a wiggly tooth. He returned to bed...then raced downstairs ten minutes later with the tooth in his hand and a bloody hole in his top gum! Apparently he just couldn't wait for nature to take it's course and pulled it out himself. Eeeeuuuuuww!

No I Don't Glow In The Dark

Fuel rod control mechanism on top of reactor vessel

Every now and again I get to do something very cool for my job. This is one such occassion. Can you guess what this is? Anybody...anybody.... Ok, I'll tell you. I'm leaning on the top of a nuclear reactor vessel. A real one. This is a massive metal structure that houses a nuclear Pressurized Water Reactor (PWR), the most common type of nuclear reactor used today. Those big metal pipes coming out contain the control rod mechanism, which allow the uranium fuel rods to be raised or lowered into the core to speed up or slow down the fission reaction. How cool is that?
A couple of weeks ago I visited the International Nuclear Academy in Chalon-sur-Saone, a town in Burgundy, France. They have access to a nuclear power station simulator which includes every important piece of equipment you find in an operating nuclear plant. Not replicas or small models, but the real things. And it's all HUGE. I can't even imagine how many tens of millions of euros it's all worth.
The centre is used to give power plant operators and technicians hands-on training, and I had a lot of fun climbing up and over steam generators, handling fuel bundles, peering through massive coolant lines and watching trainees hone their skills removing spent fuels rods out of a reactor (below). The reactor pool is even filled with tens of thousands of litres of water, glowing a bright blue, just like the real thing.


Operators removing spent fuel rods and inserting new ones into a reactor vessel

The only thing missing of course is the uranium; this is all real equipment but obviously none of it has been used with real fuel so there's no radiation. You can even practice filling up spent fuel rod canisters (below).



Spent fuel canister



It may not sound like a great day out of some people, but I felt like a kid in a toy shop. Definitely a highlight so far!