Put Me In A Boat

Last week I swapped our usual Friday lunchtime swim for a trip to The Lowry museum and theatre, and a visit to their fortnightly arts and crafts session for children. Aimed at youngsters aged between two-and-a-half and four-and-a-half, it was led by a very enthusiastic woman who directed us to a table full of straws, coloured paper and paperclips, and challenged us to make something interesting.

I asked G what we should do. Given that we'd already been playing pirates at home that morning, she wanted a boat. The picture shows what we came up with. Neither art nor engineering rank anywhere in my skillset, but at least I managed to make something that stood up by itself.

G was quite excited, especially about the little gold bits of paper she cut out and added at the bottom to make treasure. So she wouldn't stand still for the photo, which is why it's a bit blurry. She had so much fun I'm sure we'll be back again soon.

Day At The Beach

We took advantage of another sunny weekend by going to the beach yesterday. Blackpool is less than an hour from where we live, although we opted for the rather gentler option of Lytham St Annes down the coast instead.

I last visited when I went on holiday there as a child, I think when I was eight or so. From what I could recall not much has really changed, except the fading seaside grandeur of the place has faded considerably more.

The beach is still pretty great though. G wanted to make sandcastles so we invested in a bucket-and-spade from one of the kiosks (she picked a Thomas one, obviously). The sand was a bit too dry on top, and we had to dig down to find some slightly damp sand so her sandcastles could maintain a bit of structural integrity. We also had lunch on the pier followed by ice creams, then I bought a stick of rock, so our day out was basically the complete seaside experience. Couldn't find anywhere selling rollmops though, so might have to try Blackpool itself next time.

The jumper G is wearing in the picture betrays the fact that despite the beautiful sunshine and cloudless sky, the sea breeze meant it was actually a bit chilly at times. In true British seaside style, next time we go I'll be taking a windbreak.

Peppa Pig World

The second half of our weekend away featured a trip to Peppa Pig World, at Paultons Theme Park in the New Forest. If you've not heard of Peppa Pig, the bossy but loveable porcine girl who stars in her own cartoon (like Thomas the Tank Engine it's shown on Channel 5 and Nick Jr, and therefore a big part of the reason why our CBeebies-watching days seem to be long behind us), then you've missed out on what can fairly be described as an all-encompassing media phenomenon.

I assumed that taking G to a whole park devoted to Peppa would be like hitting the motherlode for a three-year-old girl. And so it proved.

There are lots of rides. Here's G on a car:

There are also ample opportunities to eat sweet things. As it was a nice day, and both me and Mrs J wanted ice cream, G got one too:

This is on the helicopter-themed ferris wheel. G didn't mind the height, and actually seemed keen to go even higher:

One notable difference between Peppa Pig World and other theme parks is that, because it's aimed at the under 5s, the jaunty Peppa music is constantly being played. I'm not sure whether this is to soothe the excited children, or drown them out when they start crying. Perhaps it's both. As a result, since Sunday I've had the familiar tinkly sounds of the cartoon theme as an earworm. A small price to pay for giving G a fun day out though.

Talking of which, she was extremely well-behaved throughout, even when we wanted to leave. Although to avoid tears this did require a pre-emptive purchase of a dinosaur toy and a Peppa balloon:

Brilliantly, the balloon has a weight on the end so it not only fits around G's wrist, it also can't fly away should she let go. It's almost as if these theme park bosses have thought of everything.

The Castle And The Pageant

We're just back from a long weekend away down south. Not just because it was the first properly sunny weekend of the year (although given that it's now June, that would have counted as reason enough to celebrate with a holiday), but also due to my birthday which fell yesterday. Holidays around this time of year have proved slightly problematic in the past, but things went very well on this occasion.

The first half of the weekend had a medieval theme. Not by design you understand, but it seems that whenever you try to have a day out in rural Britain, medieval sites of vaguely historical interest somehow seem more appealing than when you were forced to go them at school.

And so on Thursday we went to Goodrich Castle. It's near where Mrs J grew up, and she confidently eschewed the audio tour when offered it at the visitor centre. I thought this might be so she could fill me in with various historical facts about the place herself as we walked around, but in reality she spent most of the time catching up with an old friend of hers, who had brought her two children along (one a little older than G). This meant that it was down to me to do actual catching up, of G and her friend as they chased each other around the moat:

I'm still not much the wiser about Goodrich Castle itself. But given that it dates from the 11th century, I'm still it'll still be there next time we're in the area.

G learned more about this period of history on Saturday, as we ended up at a medieval pageant in Somerset. Staying in a holiday cottage in the village of Templecombe for the weekend, I spotted a wooden sign advertising the pageant as a weekend-long event.

I thought it might be a few people dressed up in a field. We decided to go on Saturday lunchtime, and quickly discovered that it was quite a lot of people dressed up in a field, doing various things from jousting to playing the harp. Clearly, and rather like brass banding, medieval re-enactment is another huge British subculture I had never previously known about.

G got into the spirit of things quickly, and painted her own shield:

She then pestered us until we got her a sword as well. Normally I'm loathe to give in to this sort of thing, but she had been very well-behaved despite the surprisingly hot sun. And it meant Mrs J could take this picture of her, so it was well worth it:

As if this wasn't thrilling enough, the following day we were planning to take G to Peppa Pig World. But that proved to be so exciting, it'll really need a separate post of its own.

Making Up Stories

We had a babysitter for G on Thursday night so the two of us could go for a night out in town. When we got back the babysitter said that after G had got out of bed, she told her a made-up story about "Princess G" in order to get her to drift back off to sleep.

The law of unintended consequences became apparent by Friday night. Books are now very last week, and every story has to involve some kind of made-up thing about our heroine (Princess G, Fairy Queen G, always G) doing something exciting. It's clear we're going to have to seriously improve our powers of creativity in order to make bedtime as stress-free as it, thankfully, usually is.

The picture was taken earlier on Friday, when we headed back to Saddleworth to take in a bit of the Whit Friday brass band contest in Dobcross. This was G's fourth Whit Friday, so I was supposed we were due a really rainy one.

Breakfast TV

I made my debut on the BBC Breakfast sofa this morning, reprising my occasional role as a pundit on stay-at-home dad issues. This is an occupational hazard of my career as a sometime journalist, and I'm now a veteran of many of these appearances. But this was the first time I'd appeared on the programme made famous in my youth by, lest we forget, Frank Bough. So I wore a jumper in his honour.

I was appearing with Gideon Burrows, author of a new book about stay-at-home dads. My experience of the media told me that I should really be disagreeing very violently with him for the sake of good telly. But we were both far too polite for any of that.

I managed to say at one point that I "slightly disagreed" with him about something or other. He told me as we walked out of the studio that actually he agreed with me on that point too. But then, anyone keen to hear an all-out ruck at that time of the morning is already listening to the Today programme, rather than tuned to the soothing sofa-based chat of Breakfast, so I don't think it really mattered too much. And they said when Breakfast moved to Salford they wouldn't be able to get any good guests on. I mean, I ask you.

G was watching at home, and Mrs J reported that she got very excited when I appeared on her TV, announcing: "Daddy is my best friend!" Not too upset at missing out at yet another media appearance of her own, then.

Ugly Duckling

As G has grown up a bit, her TV loyalties have switched from wholesome favourite CBeebies to the slightly brasher fayre of Nick Jr. This is mainly because it's where she can watch Peppa Pig and Thomas the Tank Engine. Those shows are also available on Channel 5's on-demand service, which has led to our family becoming possibly the biggest users of Demand 5 in the country.

But she can still be tempted back to Auntie for the odd programme, in particular the recent Ugly Duckling special with the Northern Ballet. I say 'recent' - it was on at Easter and we must have watched it most evenings since.

G often likes to show off her ballet moves in the living room, but since she discovered the Ugly Duckling this has become an almost nightly ritual. The picture shows her in full swan mode.

Sunny Bank Holiday Weekend

We had beautiful weather for the holiday weekend. But although we spent most of it out in the open, I started on Friday by taking G to the National Football Museum at the Urbis. She's a little bit bigger than the last time I took her there, back when the impressive building in the middle of Manchester was still a museum of popular culture. Now that she's playing football herself, I thought it might be fun to take her for a look around the new collections.

The picture shows her sitting on some seats from the old Wembley, although the exhibit which really took her interest was the cabinet full of huge silver trophies. The old Football League Championship trophy was in the middle, but it was the even bigger, shinier and gaudier examples dotted around, awarded for various long-forgotten minor tournaments, which she kept pointing to. When she comes back from football, or ballet, or whatever, with her first little medal, I'm sure it's going to be kept extremely shiny.

There was a food festival at Salford Quays on Saturday. We went along, and Mrs J raided the stall selling macarons. As confections go these have always confused me, mainly because I was brought up in Scotland where we have macaroons instead. Also confusingly, wanted to eat the blue one. And so she had a blue tongue for the rest of the afternoon, as did I, after I helped finish it off when she didn't want any more:

Cake has been a regular theme of the time I've spent with G over the years. There was a lot around on Sunday afternoon at an event called G Festival 2013, held in Swinton as a charity fundraiser after a girl from the local area who died three years ago. After having lots of fun blowing bubbles and on the bouncy castle, we went to the cake stall and found an appropriate one for G. Although she doesn't much like icing, so I had to have the actual bit with the G on it:

Monday was the warmest day of the weekend, and just as well as we went to the East Lancashire Railway in Bury for another day out with Thomas the Tank Engine. The success of our last visit to one of these events in Llangollen in February was only slightly dampened by the fact it chucked it down all day, so it was particularly good to have a day of train-based fun without having to scurry around under cover all the time. G even had a dress on, and got to meet the big guy himself:

She was less keen on the Fat Controller ("but I'm very shy" she said, intently), and needed a good bit of prodding before finally agreeing to sit next to him. Less prodding was needed to get her to toot Thomas's whistle. She talked about this moment all the way home. This would have been extremely tedious, but we only live a quarter of an hour away. Which was just as well.

Chocolate Cheesecake

It was one of the first really sunny days of the year yesterday, and in the afternoon I decided to go into Monton with G for a coffee (me) and a cake (both of us).

This was the sort of thing I used to do often when we lived in Saddleworth, because there were a few places to go within easy walking distance and it was a good excuse to get out of the house. Now I'm at home with her less, and we're in a much more residential area, I don't get the chance as often. Besides, Monton High Street is a drive away, and who drives anywhere just to go for coffee (other than Jerry Seinfeld)?

We went to Selo Deli, a Ukrainian sort of place which has made a bit of a splash since opening with its own Monton Tart, designed to take on the venerable Eccles Cake. I had a slice, but G went for a chocolate cheesecake.

I pointed out that she might not like the nuts on top. She agreed that she didn't like nuts, but said she wanted the cake anyway. So by the time she dug into it as shown in the picture, we'd had the following conversation:

G: "Is that nuts on it?"

Me: "No, that's sugar."

G: "Oh, sugar."

Lies about cake are acceptable lies, I think. Especially if it means avoiding tears and having to give her my cake instead, neither of which I would have particularly relished.

The cakes were great. The hat was G's choice.

First Boyfriend

This week's big news is that G has her first boyfriend. They met in the old-fashioned way, at nursery.

Mrs J first became suspicious a couple of weeks ago, when she arrived to pick up G, who wanted to take an Octonauts toy home with her. "You can't take that with you, it belongs to nursery," said Mrs J. "But N said I could take it," pleaded G. The nursery leader let them take the toys as long as they brought them back, which might say something about G's negotiating skills.

Since then, Mrs J has noticed that G and N are usually the last children left in the group when she goes to collect G. Clearly, romance has blossomed during this time alone together. In the car on the way home on Tuesday, unprompted, G announced: "N is my boyfriend. And I am a girlfriend". When she got back and Mrs J relayed this news, I asked G what N was like. "We play with toys together!" she said, excitedly. All very sweet, but I suppose I'd better be ready for her to come home inconsolably upset one day, just in case.

I took this picture yesterday, during a walk at the lake at Clifton Country Park.