Persisting Down

Many of the English people I have met in the few short days we have been here have a love hate relationship with their weather app.  It's their goto button.  If there was such a thing, it would be number one on speed dial.  Hour by hour weather information is spelled out to users so their 'elation meter' can be adjusted accordingly.  It's all about the sun.  If the little sun symbol is anywhere on the daily forecast, people's smiles get a little bit brighter.

There was absolutely NO little sun symbol anywhere near the weather app today.  The hourly forecast only showed rain.  Lots of it.  But we headed to a seaside village anyway!

Weymouth is a lovely town on the south coast of England and where my sons got their gambling addiction.  Usually, in every town I've been to in England, there's a pub on every corner and five in between.  In Weymouth, that is definitely still the case, but right next to every single one of those pubs is a game arcade.  They're a bit like our Timezone, but with pokies.  

The boys spent all of their pocket money on pokie machines that spit out tickets.  You know the drill.  The more tickets you have the more options you have to choose a prize that would have cost you a quarter of what it cost you to win all the tickets from the machines, if you had just gone to a shop up the road and bought it.  

I could imagine the town on a stinking hot 20 degree English summers day.  Gear off, pubs over flowing, children frolicking on the beach, no room to move and selfies being taken all over the place.  Actually, that's pretty much how it looked today.  The boys and I are rugged up to the nines, Goughy has his beanie on for goodness sake and there are men and women walking around in shorts and t.shirts.  I'm assuming they were on holiday from Antarctica, because that would have been the only place colder than Weymouth!

It really was a gorgeous place and with lots of history.  We learned after a visit to Nothe Fort that many many Australians spent time in Weymouth during and after World War I.  The ANZACs were highly respected here so long ago.  There's even a war memorial in their honour.  After reading the stories about the part they played in the War here in Weymouth we felt very proud to be Australian.  

uhmmmm..................nope

It was our last night in Salisbury.  We move to our next destination tomorrow.  A family meal at the Three Crowns Pub was called for and enjoyed by all.  We have been thoroughly looked after during our visit.  It was an absolute pleasure to have these people as part of our holiday.  We love every single one of them.  xxxx

Our UK Family xxxxxxxxxx

Pleeeeaaassseee Muuuuuummmm!

There's a school in heaven or the uterus or stork land, or wherever babies come from.  Every child must attend.  Every child graduates.  My children graduated at the top of their class, Magna Cum Laude.  Now they're  bloody Associate Professors, experts, schooled in every way known to man in the art of nagging.  

Goughy will tell you I'm an expert too, but I am a nagging pleb compared to my boys.  It starts small.  Just a simple question.  The answer I give is irrelevant.  It's like water off a ducks back, like a basketball shot that misses the hoop entirely.  It grows - the same question but asked after a quick "I love you', or at the completion of all their jobs.  My God they're good.  What I need to do is Slam Dunk that ball right now.  Answer the question and enforce it with a threat of death if it's asked again, but I'm weak.  I might be making dinner or preparing tomorrows lessons or pinning on Pinterest.  I'm distracted and I'm dumb.  I forget about yesterdays experience with nagging and the day before and the day before that.  I try another non committal answer in an attempt to appease the gods.  It's a rookie mistake, one I repeatedly make.  They've seen a chink in my armour, a weak link in my defence.   They see a glimmer of hope because I haven't threatened death.  The two of them, with tiny glances at each other and using the ancient, secret language of nagging, launch an all out assault on me and bring out the big guns - the whine.  Whine is very different to wine.  Either one works on me, but thankfully children are not allowed to purchase alcohol to support their nagging attacks.  "Plleeeeaaaassseee Muum, pleeeeeeeeaaaaassssseeee."

I cave.  Please Lord make the noise go away.  "Yes boys, yes you can have that, you can pretty much have whatever you want, just leave this vicinity immediately."  I'm bruised and battered and ashamed.  And reality has just set in.  What have I done?  What have I just promised them, just so I could pin one more pin in peace?  

Today's excursion is the result of an especially brutal nagging attack.  Paul brought me some touristy brochures and left them on the coffee table for me to look through.  The boys found the Longleat one and the rest is history.  I'm secretly glad because this happened......

and this...

and this,

Too much?  OK, how about this?

or this?

I think part of the attraction of this place for the boys was the chance to have a go at the Deadly 60 Challenge.  Deadly 60 is a TV program the boys watch and love.  It's hosted by an English Steve Irwin type.  The Challenge involved physical obstacles and animal knowledge quizzes. 

See that result in the middle? 

This is Longleat House.  It's spectacular.  The 82 year old single owner still lives here on the top floor.  He's eccentric and a bit of a recluse.  His Dad, who had a mate in a circus, was the one who started with the animals and allowing the public access to them.  He rented the Lions from the circus, bought a few other unusual animals, mowed some of the 9000 hectares of lawn for people to picnic on, and Bob's your Uncle. 

We arrived at 9.45 am and left at 4.45 pm with little left in our energy tank.  We'd experienced everything and had an absolute pearla of a day.  

Below is a video of our encounter with one of the types of animals.  It's pretty indicative of how we all reacted to many of the animals that were so close to our car.  A cacophony of laughter and fear and excitement and awe and anxiety - it truly was brilliant.

Monday Madness

There are 350 odd very steep steps to the top tower of the Salisbury Cathedral with a stunning vista to behold at the top.  We had booked and paid for our journey online but according to the reception manager, how we had managed it was truly a miracle because there were no tours of any description allowed all week.  The Magna Flora preparations were in full swing.  It's the 8ooth year celebrations of the Magna Carta here in Salisbury and so the mostly older (read, really old) general public are losing their minds with all sorts of revelry and shenanigans.  Decorating the Cathedral with flower installations is going off like a frog in a sock.

When pushed to allow our Tower Tour, given that it was such a miracle in such a Holy House, the reception lady wouldn't have any of it.  Clearly her agapanthas and daisies were of higher import than our our intended wheezing up 350 stairs.  She did offer us a short complimentary tour of the West Window which we jumped on - hey beggars can't be choosers.

This is 12th Century graffiti.  At one point the Cathedral housed prisoners.  They were so hard core they scratched pictures of cats into stone.

Kaden Buongey in the Chapter Room.  Not interested in the Magna Carta - more interested in bashing his hands on the intricately hand stitched cushions because in the ancient historic round building it made a sound like a Thunderstorm.  This went on for a good 3-5 minutes before a guide had to ask him to cease.  I was soaking up the culture elsewhere, just in case you're wondering. 

This is the second worst photo on the planet - I'm not sure why Goughy is crouching down, he's not likely to bump his head on anything.  The lady who took it (very obligingly), fancied herself as a bit of a portrait photographer and didn't like this shot so she had us move and was much happier with the one below.........seriously.

With time to kill due to the whirlwind nature of our West Window Tour we headed to the Museum - for a bit of homeschooling.  

Yes, that's D on the floor.

I have no more words on that matter.

I eventually got my wheeze wish.  Tika and Tango (Paul and Kerry's very cute mutley's) need walking twice a day so we just popped up the road to this  - Salisbury Everest.  A huge wind storm came through to allow Kaden to do his 'front of the Titanic' impersonation.  I've decided we will always holiday where there are hills.  It's very cheap to entertain children.

We finished the day in a town called Hurdcott, on Black Horse Lane in a pub called The Black Horse Inn.  Paul had wild boar pie.  I had food and Shiraz.

Kaden Buongey fell asleep on Goughy.  He hasn't done that since he was about......actually, last week he did that, but before that he hadn't done it in a while.  

Holiday Malarchy

We're in the UK.  We're on holiday, so I'm resurrecting my blog to record what we've done, where we've been and who we've been there with.  

Today is day 3.  Already.  I have three more days with my brother before we're off to the next town to explore.  

The flight over was horrid.  22 hours of pure squashed, tired, gastro infused hell.  The boys did a fantastic job under the circumstances, and it was only upon entering the terminal when we arrived that they turned into the sleep deprived hideous zombies I had expected earlier.  

Hire car collected, relatively painlessly, although in the car description I had based my booking on, room for 2 large suitcases should have read room for 2 large handbags.  

Two zombies tamed and sharing their space with a large suitcase.

Jane has left her home to us.  Just like that.  I've never met Jane.  She is the Mother of my brother's partner, Kerry.  She has allowed us to use her home for our 5 night stay so that we can hang out with Paul and Kerry.  She packed up her bag, gave me a hug and the key and went to visit her sister in Cornwall.  Her generosity is astounding and we are extremely grateful.  

After an attempted snooze - unsuccessful for me, but not too bad for the zombies - we met Paul and Kerry and their two fur babies Tika and Tango, and were off for a walk around Salisbury.  You're probably going to think I'm exaggerating, but I kid you not, around every corner and along every lane (Salisbury doesn't have paths - too bland, they have lanes - devastatingly beautiful lanes) there were breath taking views and centuries old buildings with history and culture and stories just oozing from every fibre.  

History does my head in, in a good way.  I love that I can occupy the same spaces, walk the same lanes, shop in the same shops as people; mothers, from 700 years ago.  I try and picture their life.  Where did they live?  What were they wearing?  What were their concerns?  Probably similar to mine - how to get some peace and quiet from their squabbling 7 and 11 year old sons!   

A shocking realisation that children needed to eat found us sourcing sustenance at the Rose and Crown Pub.  Is it compulsory for every city in the universe to have a Rose and Crown Hotel?  There must be millions scattered all across the world. I wonder where the first one was?  

This was the one we visited for fish and chips and a bevvie.  It's only 600 years old.  You can see Kerry and Tika and Tango in this pic.  Koby and Kaden were in love, immediately.  The energy and enthusiasm for movement by boys have is equally matched by Tika and Tango, so happy days. 

Next stop, The Old Mill.  This pub is 12th Century and obviously very popular.  It's Paul's favourite.  We sat here for another bevvie and watched the kids and dogs in the water and exchanged pleasantries with passers by.  Everyone is so lovely.  Without exception we had smiles and waves and nods and quick chats.  Even a surly teenager type carrying his Subway sandwich gave us a grin and wave when Tika the dog tried to assault him for his lunch.  Has the universe sent out memos to the inhabitant of towns we're visiting informing them of our arrival and instructing lovelieness?  Or if you live in such a stunning place are you just naturally stoked all the time?  

Here is a link to more info on this pretty awesome building.

Further walking (yes, we walked for a couple of hours, but no, it wasn't hard), led us to this........

 The Salisbury Cathedral.  Now THAT'S a church!  I can not wait to explore this sensational old girl....or boy - is it pretty or handsome?  

Day 2 turned out to be a gastronomical delight - Firstly, we visited the Town Centre, a 10 minute walk from Paul and Kerry's home, for the Salisbury Food and Drink Fair.  Our dollar is rubbish against the pound, but if it wasn't, I'd be the size of a small continent.  I would have purchased and demolished so many delicious local foods.  Homemade marshmallows,  artisan breads, cheese, cakes, snaggers, etc.  Koby D found his earthy heaven - face buried in a plate of chocolate, sugar and churros. 

Our second foodie Festival was in Sturminster Newton.  A 45 minute drive through tiny picturesque villages and greener than green meadows.  

Koby and Kaden became expert marksmen, as the promise of a sugar hit took hold.  Goughy was supposed to just hold Koby's icecream but completely devoured it without even realising.  "Here Dad, can you hold my icecream while I have a shoot please?"  Goughy replies, "Sure, no problemo".  Koby finishes his shooting, returns with his winnings and asks for his icecream.  Goughy actually looked at his hand, wondering where the icecream had gone.  He actually raised his hand and turned it from side to side like he he would find the icecream hiding behind one of his fingers.  I'm guessing a bit of jet lag but I'm not ruling out dastardly behaviour.  

The scene of the icecream crime.

Kaden Buongey had gone all gangster.

We all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves at this beautifully organised event.  Even the room temperature traditional cider couldn't dampen my spirits.  It was delicious and I felt immersed in the culture; at one point, literally, when someone spilled their beer on me as they stumbled passed.  

Buongey, Goughy, D, Me, Kez and Paul

Paul took the boys and Tika and Tango for their afternoon walk through the Meadows and found the rope swing.  I'm pretty sure he hadn't factored a 7 year old into his afternoon.  He practically had to pry the rope from Kaden's fingers and block his ears from the demands that the "fun never ever stop in a million years."

A fine meal of the wares we had purchased coupled with a red from the 'off licence' (bottlo in Aussie slang) was the cherry on the cake.   Shattered and happy we were murdering some z's by 8.30 pm.