Last weekend saw us driving down the A1 in some relentlessly foul weather to our old home in Leigh. We were to have a get together of the extended family (Ma, Pa, brothers, Nana, cousins and partners, aunt and uncle + two family friends) in a splendid restaurant in a converted bank. We had our own dedicated dining space in the former strong room. Parking just two hundred yards away from the place, the seven or eight minutes of buggering about in the pissing rain that it took us to get the kids' paraphernalia (buggies, rain covers, booster seat, Olivia's food, Grace's bottles etc) out of the car and set up, and then pushing them to the restaurant itself, meant K___ and I were quite damp by the time we got indoors.
People arrived in dribs and drabs, mostly with drips on the end of their noses, until eventually we were a complete party and were moved into our dining area. K___ and I took the kids up the far end of the room with the intention of trying to restrict the chaos to as small an area as possible. Olivia was charm itself. She looked very pretty in a silk dress in scarlet and burgundy and little black patent leather shoes. She charmed everyone by behaving as beautifully as she looked and went all from person to person around the table, being indulged wherever she went. A miracle, especially considering that she’s cutting a tooth at the back at the moment. Grace was very placid as she was passed around too, and there wasn’t much crying from her.
Olivia was spoiled rotten with presents, including more In the Night Garden Toys than one might reasonably expect to exist. Towards the end of the afternoon, she discovered how much fun it was to run out of the door, down the corridor into the main dining room and round into the bar area. Fortunately, there were many adults prepared to chase the giggling monkey, and the staff were extremely tolerant of her (they said compared to many that they had, she was angelic (which, if true, is a truly frightening concept).
That night we stayed in a flat owned by my aunt, technically my cousin’s gaff but essentially vacant since she lives with her boyfriend. It was great to have somewhere free and convenient, though it was somewhat terrifying to discover that we were taking a toddler and a baby into an all white environment. We shall gloss over the fact that it was me who knocked a bottle of Diet Coke from a table, causing it to fizz all over the carpet and sofa…
On Sunday, we went down to the yacht club where my uncle was being Father Christmas for the kids. The yacht club is a converted minesweeper, still in her military grey paint and with a (decommissioned) gun on the foredeck. At the stern on the main deck, there’s a bar with lots of seating. Below that is a function room and we found my cousins and partners down there. There had been an entertainer on before we arrived but by the time we were there, he was just spinning a few crucial tunes for da kidz (literally ‘kidz’). Olivia got her bad self up onto the floor and threw some shapes to theIrritating Crazy Frog’s version of Axel F. She was having a whale of a time being over indulged by my cousins.
A women came downstairs and announced Father Christmas was coming and we all went upstairs to look. When a reindeer-pulled(I hate to lift the curtain, but it was people in fancy dress) sleigh appeared in the distance on the towpath along the foreshore, Olivia became increasingly excited, gesticulating wriggling round in my arms to and saying, 'Mummy, Mummy, Mummy - 'Anta! 'Anta!'
As he got closer, we raced back downstairs once more to await his arrival, but weren't quite quick enough to get to the front of the queue and there were a good number of people before us. Santa took his seat under a camping pagoda with fake icicles dangling from it and the first child was taken up to see him. With so many in front of us, it was difficult to see exactly what was going on, but there were regular ‘Ho-ho-ho!’s and occasionally whooshes from a gas canister-propelled snow machine.
Having queued for half an hour, Olivia finally got to the front where upon Santa let of a giant woosh of fake snow and Olivia promptly burst into distraught tears. We tried to get pictures, but Olivia really wasn’t co-operative and there were issues with camera batteries being flat (mine, my dad’s etc) but it was enough of an effort to try and keep her there while Santa’s helper got her present from the bag and I tried to apologise to Father Christmas, who being my uncle R______, was clearly sad she was so upset.
People arrived in dribs and drabs, mostly with drips on the end of their noses, until eventually we were a complete party and were moved into our dining area. K___ and I took the kids up the far end of the room with the intention of trying to restrict the chaos to as small an area as possible. Olivia was charm itself. She looked very pretty in a silk dress in scarlet and burgundy and little black patent leather shoes. She charmed everyone by behaving as beautifully as she looked and went all from person to person around the table, being indulged wherever she went. A miracle, especially considering that she’s cutting a tooth at the back at the moment. Grace was very placid as she was passed around too, and there wasn’t much crying from her.
Olivia was spoiled rotten with presents, including more In the Night Garden Toys than one might reasonably expect to exist. Towards the end of the afternoon, she discovered how much fun it was to run out of the door, down the corridor into the main dining room and round into the bar area. Fortunately, there were many adults prepared to chase the giggling monkey, and the staff were extremely tolerant of her (they said compared to many that they had, she was angelic (which, if true, is a truly frightening concept).
That night we stayed in a flat owned by my aunt, technically my cousin’s gaff but essentially vacant since she lives with her boyfriend. It was great to have somewhere free and convenient, though it was somewhat terrifying to discover that we were taking a toddler and a baby into an all white environment. We shall gloss over the fact that it was me who knocked a bottle of Diet Coke from a table, causing it to fizz all over the carpet and sofa…
On Sunday, we went down to the yacht club where my uncle was being Father Christmas for the kids. The yacht club is a converted minesweeper, still in her military grey paint and with a (decommissioned) gun on the foredeck. At the stern on the main deck, there’s a bar with lots of seating. Below that is a function room and we found my cousins and partners down there. There had been an entertainer on before we arrived but by the time we were there, he was just spinning a few crucial tunes for da kidz (literally ‘kidz’). Olivia got her bad self up onto the floor and threw some shapes to the
A women came downstairs and announced Father Christmas was coming and we all went upstairs to look. When a reindeer-pulled(I hate to lift the curtain, but it was people in fancy dress) sleigh appeared in the distance on the towpath along the foreshore, Olivia became increasingly excited, gesticulating wriggling round in my arms to and saying, 'Mummy, Mummy, Mummy - 'Anta! 'Anta!'
As he got closer, we raced back downstairs once more to await his arrival, but weren't quite quick enough to get to the front of the queue and there were a good number of people before us. Santa took his seat under a camping pagoda with fake icicles dangling from it and the first child was taken up to see him. With so many in front of us, it was difficult to see exactly what was going on, but there were regular ‘Ho-ho-ho!’s and occasionally whooshes from a gas canister-propelled snow machine.
Having queued for half an hour, Olivia finally got to the front where upon Santa let of a giant woosh of fake snow and Olivia promptly burst into distraught tears. We tried to get pictures, but Olivia really wasn’t co-operative and there were issues with camera batteries being flat (mine, my dad’s etc) but it was enough of an effort to try and keep her there while Santa’s helper got her present from the bag and I tried to apologise to Father Christmas, who being my uncle R______, was clearly sad she was so upset.
