1.  Palava

2.  Pyjamas

3.  Perfidy

I am back online, hooray hooray. Got knocked out in a rainstorm. Palava. Now sorted.  In summary: The Man went on Business Trip; Granny and Granddad here; Wednesday Friend is now 5, which means a rack of 5th birthdays coming up;  The Man back from Business Trip; Nanna babysat while Granny, Granddad, The Man and I went out for a meal at Nice Restaurant.

And here I am.  Not even a particularly Good Day to come back on. I left early, and did a Big Shop so got back late. Hardly saw the boys.  I doubled parked to unload the shopping.  A little figure aged 22m, in pyjamas was standing in the 2nd floor window, the blackout blind pulled down behind him, looking down at me.   I waved.  He looked and looked. I heaved the shopping out on to the pavement, I heaved the first bags into the house. Son 1 aged 4y 10m pelted downstairs, also in pyjamas. “Mummee, Mummee.”  The Man came down with Son 2. “I need to park the car,” I said. “You have him and I’ll park the car,” he said, dumping Son 2 into my arms. ”They’ve both had their baths and Son 1’s cleaned his teeth but Son 2 hasn’t.” At least that’s what I thought he said. 

“Son 1, come here and I’ll clean your teeth.” “They’re clean. You need to do Son 2’s.”  I sat Son 2 on my knee and carefully cleaned his teeth.  He has a cut lip.  The Man came back. “Why are you cleaning his teeth?” He said. “I’ve done them. It’s Son 1 who needs doing.” Son 1 cackled in delight. “I got you!”  It was Book Club night for me and Son 1.  He has as many books as he likes. He chose his entire Disney set. I got away with 11, because we’ve lost The Incredibles.

1.  Good Food

2.  Good News

3.  Good Thing

Lunch With Nanna.  She’d invited us out. Son 1 aged 4y 9m picked Pizza Express. We went along with the idea. Son 1 ate no breakfast or tea on Friday.. and nothing but cake, crisps, chocolate crispies, chews, lollies and biscuits yesterday.  We figured he would probably go for their cheese and tomato pizza and dough balls. Not exactly Annabel Karmel-compliant, but at least a nod to the three major food groups. On the way to The Square we stopped off to get sandals for Son 2 aged 21m.   ”Choos.” He was delighted. He showed them to Nanna as soon as he saw her. Poor Son 1. Clarks could do nothing with his 11E slender feet.   The boys were ok during lunch. Son 1 cleared his plate, but didn’t quite stay sitting at the table, and ate quite a bit of his garlic butter with his fingers. Son 2 climbed out of his highchair (broken strap) three-quarters of the way through.  But considering what they’re capable of, a success. On the way back we saw Glamorous 22 year old Graduate. “Choos,” said Son 2.

And then at 1545 I wheeled them out again to go the Family Service at The Church. Son 1, who likes the crafts,  had decided he wanted to go.   Today we made  bricks and building and drawing houses.  A few more people there than previously.  Son 2 made a brick and a house. Son 1 coloured an orange house with a pink roof.  He then refused to go to the front of the church for the service because he wanted to make a house too. So Son 2 and I did The Wise Man Built His House Upon The Rock. And then into the Church Hall for tea.  “I made vegetarian cottage pie last time and you didn’t come,” said the chef, doling out sausage and mash and beans for the boys. Sorry, I said.  Son 1, after his lunchtime triumph, ate mash and had seconds of beans. I don’t think the sausages met his standards.    Another mother there had worked with The Man 15 years ago. 15 years ago The Man used his pet name for me in all his conversations.  She still thinks that’s my name, and that’s what she calls me. I wonder when he stopped using it. 

When the boys were in bed I went for a run.  8pm and a warm, close evening with great light.  I’ve never noticed the amount of roses in front gardens along The Terrace before. I’m still running-and-walking while I get back into it, but as usual, I’m very glad I went.  There and back I was dive-bombed by a seagull, clearly protecting a nest or fledgings. And on the final straight, the seagulls were clacking at top volume near The Hotel With The River View.  A small grey chick was perched unsteadily on the sloping slate roof.  I ran on.  A cat sat outside a house on The Terrace, staring at the gulls.  Today’s positive lesson? At least when I make a mistake parenting, no-one tries to eat the children.

1. Excuse Me

2.  And Me

3.  Not Just Me

I give the boys a tub of fruit as soon as they get up, the Childcare With Serenedays principle being that I’ve always funnelled in at least one of their 5-A-Day before 7am.  So, while I was washing grapes and blueberries for Son 2 aged 21m, a little figure was pushing a green ELC chair across the kitchen. He likes to stand on a chair at the worksurfaces so he can see what Mummy is doing.  I like him standing on the chair, because at least I don’t have to carry him around. This morning, I wasn’t fast enough shutting up the dishwasher so he could get in. “Coos Me.  Coos Me,” he said, smacking the chair into my ankles.  He just is the cutest child in the world.

Son 1 aged 4y 9m doesn’t go to Nursery on Tuesday, so a sane start to a beautiful morning. The house is east-facing, so we had bright early sunshine streaming in to every room. “I wonder why Son 2 is waking up so early,” said The Man.  Both boys were lounging around in pyjamas, colouring, as I got ready.   Son 1 is great at colouring, does some amazing designs and spends ages choosing which colours and patterns to use. There are, of course, very many “Oh well done, Son 1, what a beautiful picture, I really like the way you’ve drawn that/colours you used/shapes you’ve made.   This morning, when Son 2, eyes shining,  held up his scraggy, holes gouged in it, scribbly biro-d yellow chick mask from the Environment Day, I realised the poor child has been trying to get the same response from me for ages.  Maybe when I’m less tired I’ll be smarter. 

I got back before Wonder Nanny left, which was a Good Thing. The boys were high as kites. They’d been to Nanna’s, who’d plied them with sweets and chocolate, and then to the playground in Nanna’s Village.  They were dirty and behaving badly, as they’d apparently done all day.  Son 1 tormented Son 2, and for the first time I witnessed Wonder Nanny snapping at him.  Thank God for that.  I have agonised over the quiet, reasoned, loving control she has over them.  Usually, when I come home from work, they are quiet, sedate little angels minding their ps and qs.  And then they go off like fireworks.  Because they were being so awful when I came in, there wasn’t the usual annoying disintegration for my benefit.  Son 2 sat still through his books; Son 1 was still pretty hyped but tolerable.  He gulped his bedtime milk. “Shall we ask the servant to bring us some more?” he asked. “Better not call him that,” I said.

1.  Happy Father’s Day

2.  A Family Day Out

3.  The Servant

Man I was wiped out after yesterday, celebrating Nanna’s Grand Old Age from 0830 till gone 11pm. I forgot to say, she loved the cartoon fireman mushroom Son 1 aged 4y 8m chose for her. Kitch. A language shared by the elderly and under-fives.  We really thought we were in for a lie-in, but Son 2 aged 21 m was up and roaring at 6am.  The Man went.  At 0730, when I went down to see them, sitting together on the big chair watching The Wiggles, I said “Happy Father’s Day.”  He’d forgotten. “I’d have made you get up if I’d realised.”  A silent and invisible licked finger wrote a “1″ in the air. 

The Office was at a huge environmental event. Cycle trails, hearty walking,  pond-dipping, willow-weaving, that sort of thing.  I’d said I’d go, and The Man said it was the sort of Family Thing he didn’t mind doing for Father’s Day.  Son 1 packed his golf kit, and wee headed on out. Son 2 fell asleep straightaway, Son 1 hung on until a few minutes before we arrived. We chatted to my colleagues, and went to look around. We got as far as Face Painting And Smoothie Making.  Son 1 was a pirate,. The moustache, caterpillar eyebrow and eyepatch we have seen many times before. But the fake cheek slash was a new touch. Wax-based, red blood running from it, like something off the Casualty set.   We set off round the trail and the boys were murderous.  We split into teams and played “Spot the butterflies.” They came alive. The behaviour switched, instantly. The Man and Son 1 beat me and Son 2 10 - 4.  Ah. Not hungry, tired, or hot, then. Just bored.

There were bees as well as butterflies, and dragonflies, and crickets. Foxgloves, cowslips, a lily pond. All in a scorching day, the sun baking down on the trail.  We took an hour to get to the first mile marker, and an hour back again.  Son 1 spent well over an hour in the Wildlife People’s tent, making a Father’s Day card with a butterfly on it and colouring face marks with felt tip. Son 2 tipped up all the sticker shapes, and I took him away. He had an owl mask. “Owl. Owl.”  Which meant: ” I would like to stand back on that chair and colour my owl like Son 1.”  Eventually I tempted him away with “Would you like some cake?” and we went for ice cream. The Man and Son 1 were a full half hour behind us, because the face mask had to be coloured perfectly. “Didn’t you try to get him away?” “About a thousand times.”  They played golf, and Son 1 had a quick game of pirates with a big boy in the playground.   As we left, Son 1 said “Can I have a servant?” “You’ve got a servant,” I said. “Daddy is your servant, he’s just not very good at it and I keep having to do it instead.”  “No,” insisted Son 1. “A servant. Something we buy. From the shop.”  “You mean a souvenir?”  “Yes.”  “No you can’t. You had too much yesterday.” = 2 Wiggles Activity packs, and a Disney Golf set. Back home I googled the Wiggles.  Bad News.  Liking Anthony is not original.  Good News. I do not need to be concerned about the “Spending Some Quiet Time With Dorothy,” Do-Not-Disturb signs left on the back of the theatre seats.

1.  A Big Day

2.  A Day Off

3.  A Long Day

Nanna’s Birthday.  She is A Grand Old Age.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m, Son 2 aged 21m and I picked her up and drove over to The City to watch the Wiggles.   We arrived at the same time as hoards of other under-fives. ”Food!” said Son 2, trying to rip his way into the tuck bag as soon as we got through the sliding doors. “Food! Food! Food!”  I tried to give him a sandwich. “Cips!”  “Cips!”   I wasn’t sure about the Wiggles.  A Mumsnet talkboard raved about them, they were on Nanna’s Big Day, and we needed an outing.  But I am now enslaved.   Just go. You deserve it. Don’t, whatever you do, ruin it by taking children.  Son 1 bellowed out the names as they bounded on, and I was oh-how-sweet, he knows who they are.  Afterwards, Son 1 asked: “Who’s your favourite Wiggle Mummy?” “Anthony,” I said. “Guess why.” “Because he likes to run around and have lots of fun, doesn’t he?” “Yes, yes,” said I.  Mmmm. WLTM. Abs of rock. Does Handstands. Drums. Likes children. Filthy rich.  I can now, for the first time in my life, compose a lonely hearts ad.  

On the way back, Son 1 said: “Where’s Daddy?” “Having a day off,” I said. A Father’s Day present.  I left it a few beats. “Do you think Daddy has too many days off?” I asked.  “Yes.” “Do you think it might be someone else’s turn to have a day off?”  “Yes I do. When we get back, I will say, Daddy, we will have the next day off.  It’s our turn. It’s your turn to do all the tidying.”  Oh lambo.  You are the centre of your universe and you cannot conceive of a world where grown ups long for time without you.   Oh all right, I don’t.  From every quarter I am urged to take time off from them.  But I can’t spend a minute without them when I’m not at work. 

The Man bought balloons and did an al fresco strawberries and cream tea for Nanna. We made the boys have hummous and dips, and then brought out plate upon plate of  scones, strawberries, jam and a victoria sponge.     Nanna’s mother always gave her strawberries on her birthday.  We put candles on the Victoria Sponge, and Son 1 bossily shoved Son 2 out of the way so that he could blow them out. We are out of matches, so I went downstairs to light one from the cooker. I doughtily carried it upstairs and the wind blew it out.  Eventually Son 2 followed me down the kitchen, and I let him blow out candles there. “More. More.”  We took Nanna out for dinner at The Hotel With The River View. She had chicken, I had butternut squash curry, The Man had steak.  After, we sat outside on the terrace enjoying the fine Long Evening Before The Solstice.  Nanna rang Elder Sister to tell her about her day.  “They were fantastic,” she said.  “They were on air for an hour and a half and they never stopped. They did everything, and they were so entertaining.”  Nanna knows her stuff. She has, in her time, seen  people like Judy Garland and Danny Kaye live.

1.  Pets

2.  Peace

3.  Perfection

Son 2 aged 21 month’s head bump looked pretty grim this morning, and I am glad I bothered to heave him into Casualty last night. He seemed fine, but tired.  We went to a Garden Centre.  Younger Sister bought the boys sunflower seed kits, and we have to pot the seedlings on, so we were looking for pots. The Garden Centre  has tropical fish, garden fish, gerbils, hamsters, chinchillas, parrots, canaries and rabbits.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m has decided that he wants a fish for his birthday. He is very excited by the idea. I have said it will help him get ready for having a dog, which he is not allowed till he is 6.  At the Garden Centre, we met the mother of a friend from Nursery.  Who has 5 dogs.  I quickly established that Nursery Friend has an older sister.     

The boys fell asleep in the car on the way back, the The Man and I drove to a beach and had coffees from a cafe. It really is such a rare treat to get them both asleep together in the daytime.  I put some litter in a bin; they woke up. We bought them chips for lunch. Unfortunately it wasn’t lunchtime, it was nearly 3pm when Nanna was coming round. We got back to see her, A Grand Old Age, sitting on the windowsill in the rain waiting for us.  Er… see http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/02/18/the-cuteness-of-piglets/  We made special fried rice for tea. I had a new Le Crueset serving dish for my birthday.  I put the rice in the dish on the centre of the table, place mats laid all round, serving spoons and plates in position.  Son 2 bruised down. “Tea,” he demanded. “Tea. Tea. Tea.” He climbed up on the chair, stood on it, reached over, served himself a great plateful and ate it with his fists.  He’d eaten half a plate before Son 1 came down.  I sat in the highchair and had mine.

Nanna babysat while The Man and I went down the road to the Hotel With The River View. Thank heaven for smokers, and improved outside facilities.  The Hotel WTRV now has a terrace. Plastic plants, and seagulls eating fag butts, but it was sunny, the water was flat and the longest day approaches.  We had a great time.

1. The Mushroom

2. A New Country

3. Strawberries

“Mummy wake up. I want to paint Nanna’s present.” 0600.  I ignored Son 1 aged 4y 8m. “I want to paint Nanna’s present.  Now.” I didn’t open my eyes. “You’renotsupposedtopaintit,” I mumbled. Itjuststandsinthegardenandchangescolourwiththeweather.” He dropped his full weight on my stomach. “Pack it in! Go away and find Daddy!  Now!”  Nanna’s present is an enormous faux-stone mushroom.  It weighs a tonne, and a colleague carried it from the Trade Show to the car last night. Only when I heaved it into the house did I realise it must have nearly killed him.  The mushroom is in two parts. The stalk, and the cap, which is shaped like a squashed cartoon fireman’s helmet and face.  Son 1 chose it.  It is Very Him.

We kind of planned to take The Boat out on its 2009 maiden voyage, but we didn’t like the forecast. Again. So we drove to the Peacock Playground to meet some Wednesday Friends.  ”And why have we got Nelson in the back?”  asked The Man. He has been away too long.  Son 1, in full Captain Hook.  He chased the Brothers around the playground, and they chased him.  Son 2 aged 20m was Very Tired and very clingy.  A peacock came up to peck for picnic leftovers and Son 2 was terrified.  I crawled through the Big Tunnel with him, three times.  I liked crawling through The Tunnel, just like on Swimming Pool days I like whizzing down the Flume, and at Fairs I like going on Merry-Go-Rounds.  All part of exploring and enjoying this Kiddie Country place that I never even registered for 30 years.

We traipsed round the garden, with Son 2 howling in plank-boy outrage every time we tried to put him in the Big Pram. Son 1 and The Brothers played Pooh Sticks where the path crossed the stream.  Only I don’t remember Pooh and Piglet ripping up the riverbank plants to play.  We moved them on.  We left at 3, and then hared over to see Son 2’s Godmother, who was having Bubbles and Strawberry Scones. Son 1, Son 2 and The Man headed out into the garden, where Son 2 sat on the drainguards and posted pebbles through the grids.   Son 2 gathered fans; Son 1 couldn’t keep away from Son 2’s teenage Godbrother and Godsister.  Back home they ate salmon and new potatoes and carrots.  We were late for teatime again, and the boys were late for bed.  “I love you, darling, I’ll come and see you before I go to bed,” I said, as usual, to Son 1 as I was leaving him.  “I love you Mummy. I’ll come and see you when you’re in bed,” he smiled. “Well make sure you don’t wake me up,” I said.

1.  A Glorious Day

2.  An Excruciating Evening

3.  A Successful Meal

We have been On Holiday. Fantastic, thank you.  Scorching sunshine, lovely villa, beautiful pools. Perfect.  We were with Granny and Granddad, Elegant Aunt and Golfmad Uncle.    Son 1 aged 4y 7m, Son 2 aged 20m and I spent most of each day in the water. The Man dipped in and out, and Granny joined us yesterday.  Son 1 came on leaps and bounds before our eyes.  The boy who wouldn’t put his face in the water where all about him were jumping in, ducking down and diving under can now swim a length of the children’s pool facedown, pick toys sharks up from the bottom and is pretty damn near being able to copy Marvellous Mummy’s handstands.   Son 1 went to Baby Swimming Classes from about 9 weeks old.  Son 2 has never had a swimming lesson.  By the end of the holiday he could float calmly in his armbands and scrabble back to me if I insisted.   But he didn’t really want to.  On one Amazing Morning, I had them both in the pool at 11am. By 12, Son 1 was asleep under a towel on a sun lounger, and Son 2 was crashed out in the MacLaren.  We all had Bloody Marys. I did 20 lengths in the outside pool, watching an azure-winged magpie flitting around.  I then had the whirlpool and indoor pool to myself, and got to blow-dry my hair after swimming for the first time in four-and-a-half years. When I emerged, gleaming and glowing, Son 2 was Up, Cross and Hungry, on The Man’s knee.

We must do it again, we said, we must stay longer. Son 1 found a leaflet about a 2008 sand sculpture competition. “I want to go here. To the land of the sand.” We’ll try in the autumn, we said, we’ll check out flights and prices… And then the trip home.  Son 2 on a plane. Golly, quel beast.  He was bad enough on the way out, but on an afternoon flight on a plane full of tipsy golfers, there was enough cheering, clapping and ambient sound to absorb his wailing.  On an evening flight, after a long, sleepless day he was Satan With The Baffles Out.  Loudest child there by many, many miles.   He kicked seats, he struggled, he roared, he twisted, he wept, he sobbed, he shouted.  For two-and-a-half hours.  It was past funny, past the point where I could look at anyone else and past the point where I wanted anything to do with him.  He quietened down 5 minutes before landing, and hot, red-faced, glazed-eyed and floppy, ignored the bump as the plane came down. Then, again alert, he peered out of the window, pointed outside at the vehicles whizzing past and said: “Bus.”  

Today we opened post, washed clothes and downloaded photos.  Son 2 wanted to go to sleep, so he and I had a heavenly cuddle on the double bed before he passed out.  Little arms around my neck, a  little cheek pressed against mine, soft breath on my lips… who could possibly ever say a bad word to say about him?  Son 1 had five Euros off Granny for a treat, so we went into The Town in search of a comic, a chicken and some fruit.  Nanna came round , looking, sounding and walking much better since they put her on Warfarin.   The Man made Sunday dinner, and the boys ate chicken, broccoli, carrots, potatoes and gravy.  Big relief to see them eating the right stuff. Son 2’s vocabulary now includes: crisps, chips (same ‘kip’ word for both) sweets, ice cream and chocolate.  Much more advanced than Son 1, who didn’t get a grain of sugar from us till he was gone 2.

1.  Foresight

2.  Hindsight

3.  Second Sight

I told Son 1 aged 4y 6m that, to mark the end of the holidays, we could have a Big Trip this weekend.  He chose the Fun Park, and he chose today.  Nanna, who on Sunday didn’t take Communion because she didn’t think could make it from the pew at the back of The Church, said she’d be fine with the huge amount of walking.  If we took the Big Pram for her to use as a zimmer frame.   I did a mega packed lunch, including coffee for me.  First, I don’t like the food or the cafe… and second I am trying to cut back. It took FOREVER.  Cost-benefit analysis.  Saved £20. But two bored boys allbut unravelled the carpets and peeled off the wallpaper.  Son 1 has a very sore and red left eye.  Worrying, as the Old Friend we saw on Tuesday was just over an evil bout of conjunctivitis. 

At the Fun Park, Son 2 aged 19m thought he’d entered Paradise.  Ponies and piglets.  “Dig! Dig! Dig!” at the climb-on diggers in the sandpit. Lambs and rabbits and chickens and goats.  Son 1 was insistent on going down to the Haunted House.  Soft Play in the dark.  Nanna sat outside while we played.  The Ball Pool, knee-high and low-lit, was being dragged by two men in Fun Park uniforms. Sort of dive, body plough, surface.  “Are you looking for someone?” I asked.  “A mobile phone,” one said. “Can’t you ring it?” “We don’t get signals here.”  We left them to go and play Scooby Do on the stairs in the dark.  

Lunch, a bit of a run round, some sliding with Son 2, and then it started to rain.  We played inside again, in a toddler area - ride on tractors, and  in another Ball Pool, where I played a game with both Son 1 and Son 2, lifting them up and letting them fall (slightly.)  And then upside down.  Son 2’s Ball Pool confidence grew and grew, until he was relaxed lying on top without moving while he waited his turn. And then there was a little castle which ran the length of one wall.  Son 2 was fabulously independent.  Climbing in, taking himself up and down steps, out-of-sight along walkways, vanishing until just a little red and white striped sock appeared, and then another, as he lowered himself down steps at the end.    Then back to the Haunted House and the Ball Pool there.  Son 2 sat, happy, letting himself sink till only his face was visible. Wiggling. “Dear little soul,” I thought. “He’s so good at these now.”  He leaned back and stuck up a little baby foot.  A bare baby foot.  No sign of the little red and white striped socks.   The wiggling had clearly been Son 2 removing them under the surface.  This time it was me dragging the Ball Pool. And it’s not easy.  By the time I found the socks, Son 1 had taken his off. They were exhausted when we finally left.  We got back in time though for the Pharmacist at Tesco.  Son 1 has a stye, not conjunctivitis.  We have ointment. And a proclaimation: “You’re not putting that stuff in my eye!”

1.  Like A Duck To Water

2.  Proud As A Peacock

3.  Eggs

4am. Son 2 aged 19m woke screaming.  I went down and got him back to sleep in the double bed. And went back upstairs to read Two Lives.  He woke again. I went down again. It’s His Teeth.  Fast Forward. The Hotel Pool.  Son 1 aged 4y 6m wanted to go the Hotel Pool because he wants to go swimming with Son 2.  The Man won’t go with us, and you need two adults for two children at the Town Pool.  Not at the Hotel.  Son 1 had the noodle, Son 2 was in foam armbands and a swimming costume wetsuit.  We played in the baby pool, we splashed in the fountains. We played Humpty Dumpty.  Son 2: (pointing) Dump! Dump!” We swam. Son 2 can float a bit.  Son 1can push and glide, do dolphin dives and do star, pencil and frog floats.   Only not in the Hotel Pool, which is four foot deep all the way through.  They both worked incredibly hard.

After, we drove over to the Farm Butcher to get a joint for tomorrow’s lunch. Son 2 passed out in the Hotel car park.    He woke up when we stopped the car at the Farm Butcher.   Peacocks wandered around the car park.  As we all watched, a male spread its tail, shaking and shimmering at an unconcerned female idly pecking by.  It was fantastic.  Amazing moving colours, brilliant blues and emerald and lime greens.  In the shop, at the back, there were scores of peacock feathers sticking out of a row of about 10 vases.  “Let’s buy one,” said Son 1. “I don’t think they’re for sale,” I said.  “Ask the gent,” he said.  I did.  It is apparently bad luck to take a peacock tail feather outside.  You can take them in to a building, but not outside again.   Many people have asked for a peacock feather, but the Butcher is superstitious.  The Butcher himself went out to look for new one.  It was left outside by the door for Son 1, who was truly delighted with it.  Back home, the feather has not come into the house. 

We went to Nanna’s for tea.  Nanna always comes to us.  It was easier. But after a particularly difficult teatime, we decided to try every other Saturday at her house.  I dropped off Lightning McQueen buckets for her to use in an egg hunt.  We arrived. The boys took their buckets and went into the garden.  Son 1 found one egg and started eating. Son 2 found one, I peeled it halfway and he started eating.  Son 1, squealing, found marshmallows and more chocolate.  Son 2 found a Creme Egg.  “Ur Ur,” he said, having bitten through the foil to eat it, the other egg still in a hand.  I removed the foil from his mouth.  Nanna has a tiny ancient bird pond full of dark green water.  Son 2 went for it.  So did Son 1.  Nanna gave them tubs.  They scooped and poured.  Within 10  minutes Son 1 had soaked his clothes and was stripped naked. Son 2 was down to his vest. It was freezing, the skies charcoal. Upstairs was a vintage tin bath which Nanna used to bathe us in, 40 years ago.  I put a kettle of boiling water in it, added cold, and put it in the garden.  The boys both went for it, and, spotting it as the only available outside warmth, wouldn’t come out. The Man brought out new clothes, and we had tea.  Nanna had bought oven chips. “They’re not as nice as I thought they would be,” said Son 1 casually.   Our chips start life as potatoes, cut into chips, blasted  in the microwave for five minutes, dried and then roasted off for 20 minutes in olive oil in the oven.   ”Delicious, yum, yum,” says Son 1. Now all we need to do is get his manners as refined as his palate.