Bluebell year 5

When I grow up I want to be a aqua marine mermaid (you know swimming around in an aquarium where tourists go in to see the fish)




Summer 2016

The bluebell turned nine, her last year as single numbers ever. We picked wild garlic in the spring and walked sandy paths to remote beaches as dusk fell at the turn of summer. Its the simple moments that stay with me. We looked at wild flowers growing by the church on sea front nestled in the dunes.

We made the most of the beach playing as the sun set late into the evenings some nights, and we left our beloved Cornwall and ventured to festivals of music and food.

The flower girls have had a ball, and I am shattered,but a happy shattered, its been a success. The little one has fallen in love with football more so than ever and the big one surfing. What next summer will bring we don’t know, but double figures for one.

The questions from the little one go one, shes six 1/2 now and thinks all the time: ” Fireworks, are they called this because they are fire and they work? ” ” If we didn’t have the sun why would we die? is it because we would not see and bump into things? ”  Shes also thoughtful when I told her its hard being a child, she replied its also hard being a Mummy. I caught her cough, but she was delighted ” we can now kiss each other” she said.  I told her a story when buying her a ice-cream how I was never allowed the ice-cream oyster shell i really wanted it was too expensive, she looked at me with her gentle eyes and said ” now its your turn to have the ice cream Mama” I love her so much, her smile lit up the whole school hall when she was awarded the shine, and her teacher seems to love her energy as much as we do. Shes so young still and asked how the author of Harry Pottor knows all the spells in the book and HOW DOES SHE WRITE SOOOOOOOO SMALL???? …… its fabulous being only six!

The Bluebell is very concerned about her hair and actually was upset when I “deleted” her parting…. its hard being nine!





As the winter turns to Spring

Its finally here, May day has been and gone. The girls danced the traditional dance through our small streets, they smiled and skipped for miles and miles. The music played and we were transported back to another time. The rain poured but after the celebrations the sun shone, we sat on the harbour wall and the children found their friends. In a small town its that easy to do.

The bluebells have shown them selves and the roadsides are alive with colour and flowers. Cow slips, wild garlic and primroses. We found a magical garden over looking a river. It was stunning, a robin followed us around hopping and looking, hoping for a crumb. We found a bee resting, drunk with pollen.

We have had beach parties and beach BBqs, we have been cold but done it all the same. The girls have played beach cricket and danced in the waves. The surf has been good and they have enjoyed the see, even the little one, at last!

I love this time of year although it could be warmer, we make the most of what we have. At the weekend we rode our bikes through the bluebell woods. I couldn’t have felt happier at that point, it was so peaceful and stunning and the flower girls so happy. We ate our lunch and chatted about this and that just enjoying the space. The tall trees sheltering us from the odd spots of rain.

Looking forward to the Cornish summer but at the same time loving the feeling of newness everywhere and the still empty beaches. Its that special time of waking up before the summer in our little town that’s still slightly sleepy.

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Cooking From The Heart

We had a day in the kitchen, the flower girls and I. Together we baked biscuits and cakes. We slaved all day. They love getting messy and the kitchen was filled with chatter and laughter and fabulous smells. Its good for the soul and the weather was appalling. In our warm kitchen, the heart of our home together we bonded and created. At the end of the day we collapsed in a heap and watched a film. I hope the love I have for cooking stays with them, I hope its etched its way into their hearts.

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The Fairy Door

Aged six and 4 months the first tooth has come out. Of course the fairy came, she has her own door, she left a shiny coin and a note and her door is funky! The little Fleur was over joyed, she wasn’t sure if she would have to share her fairy and her sisters fairy door, but that wasn’t the case. The coin wasn’t saved to be sacred forever, but put in a jam jar to save for a transformer!

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The Cornish Winter

IMG_3248The winter has been harsh, we have had rain and gales, high seas and crashing waves. The wind has whistled through our home and spooked our cats. One night we ventured into a quaint harbourside town, so much smaller than ours, seeped in even more legend and history. The wind was so strong it nearly blew us away and made the little one cry. We holed up in the only pub, the fire was lit and the fishermen were on dry land, drinking the bar dry. I felt safe and warm and knew this is what the wild Cornish winters were all about, finding your sanctuary and safe haven.

We had friends come to stay and we took them to another town, a town filled with art and wonderful views, but alas the storms took hold again and we could only jump out of the car and run for the save haven of a coffee shop this time. The sea raged and looked angry, and again the little one cried. I worry about her childhood memories of our life here on the remote shores.

The following day the sun did shine, though the wind was bitter, even sunny corner was struck, but we walked round to another beach in our little town and found a sheltered spot, the children played with waves, and got soaked, we painted rocks and built the first sandcastles of the year. The sea looked less fearful and we found two dead sharks on the shore, which saddened us but intrigued us all the same.

I took our friends to my favorite beach which I only discovered last year, yet so close to home, I dream of living there one day, even if only for a summer, I wanted to share it with them. The waves crashed in and we had to walk further up the beach to find sand, it was an adventure. The children ran with crazy dogs and laughed and played. We drank tea from a flask and fed the littles ones cake to keep them going. On arrival home, windswept and wet with frizzy hair we felt alive and felt we had survived. So be the Cornish Winter.