JasonBlog

A good day to end on

Well it's just like the thing that whilst we're in the South West of England, we have the most extreme weather on record again. Four years ago it was a massive heatwave, this time it's flooding. But yesterday, the clouds had a rest fr a morning at least, and we basked in beautiful sunshine for what was to be our last full day on beautiful Porlock.

It was nice to sit and read outside with a mug of coffee, and hear the soothing sounds of the children screaming and laughing and playing and screaming and running and screaming. They had many bubbles, and endlessly played at chasing them around the large garden, whilst screaming.

After the screaming had subsided, a few of us adults (although children at heart obviously) made our own noise, in the form of some impromptu music. I donned a guitar, and was joined by Damon on accordion, his wife Kate on fiddle, Derek on ukulele and James on ukulele too. We played all the traditional music we knew, which turned out to be three tunes - Bonny at Morn, Scarborough Fair, and another one that had John or Legs or something in the name. Oh and Weel may the Keel Row, so that's four. Lovely it was by all accounts, and a great deal of fun it was too. We'd like to have done something traditional from the area, but we couldn't remember the words to I've Got a Brand New Combine Harvester. Shame.

After a light lunch of bread and cheeses we had a heavier lunch of pies, lard and cakes, then nothing could stop us from venturing forth to nearby Dunster, a true medieval village. We didn't know what a medieval village would be like but we were soon to find out, as we were met with open running sewers, dead animals and children littering the mud strewn streets, and pustulant plague-ridden toothless hags offering us vile concoctions of pureed calves brain and swan bile served in leather cups.

In fact Dunster was a charming and lovely little village built on a hill with a lovely castle at it's peak - now conquered by the National Trust. All of those castle dwellers of yesteryear should have thought on and been less afraid of invaders with horses and armour, and more wary of the ones with Barbour jackets, M&S knitwear and sensible walking shoes. The village had a quaint market hut sort of thingy (a googly did I hear Derek call it?) and a range of fine shops that sold everything from fudge and postcards, to postcards, fudge and postcards of fudge.

As we walked upwards to the castle, we passed some thatchers enthatchinating a house. Apparently houses with thatched rooves are  usually cheaper than ones with tiled rooves due to the expense of the upkeep. You need to replace the roof every 15 years at a cost of at least ten thousand pounds. Not so cocky now, those old homely grannies who peer out of the windows whilst they're making their fudge. They need to sell shedloads (thatched shedloads) to pay for their grassy burdens.

In the castle gardens we were delighted to encounter the friendliest loveliest cat we have ever had the pleasure to meet - with the exception of our own three cats. Heck - it was nicer than two of ours. It came up to us and allowed the kids to pet it for ages. The we had a bit of a look around the gardens the castle was closed for repairs unfortunately) and the kids were photographed next to the famous hockling swan pond.

In the evening back at the ranch, we indulged in a spot of barbequeing whilst the weather held, and later that same evening sang rounds and regaled ourselves with tales of the day in much the way you'd expect if you knew us. I bet you're glad, those of you who don't. And so ended our trip to the South West.

This morning was the clearing up and packing madness that has to be done and usually takes an hour longer than I expect - not helped by complications during the kids video-tour of the house. Editorial conflicts and creative difference divided the children, and I had to step in as executive producer and take some pretty tough storyboard changes. But it all got sorted out, and we eventually got in the car and drove off at 9.30am.

A swift nine hours later, and we're back home and unpacking. Voom! We could have been back from America quicker. But it was somehow a fun journey. The kids were great considering the amount of time they had to stay in a seat, and Toni did all but 2 hours of the driving. Great! She'd just gone off out again to pick up the cats. Let's see how traumatized Abigail is...

Back at Butlins after 35 years

I mentioned in a recent blog that I have very fond memories of a holiday at Butlins in Pwylhelli, Wales when I was about 4. Well yesterday the weather here in Porlock was so abysmal, that we considered our options very carefully, and what we decided to do was go to the nearby Butlins at Minehead as day visitors, and take advantage of their wet weather facilities.

On arrival, it didn't look promising. We had to park and queue to get a visitors ticket, and whilst waiting some really horrible kids in cars next to ours were sounding the car horns continuously the sticking their heads out of the windows and grinning at each other whilst their older siblings stood in the rain and smoked. On getting parked in the shallow lake that had formed, I realised that a 4 litre glass bottle of cider I bought yesterday had broken in the back of te car and leaked its contents into the upholstery. And I hadn't packed swimming gear that fitted me. So whilst the kids trudged through torrential rain, I tried to find a shop on site that would sell some trunks. I walked past a family who were giving a very frank and negative appraisal of the facilities, and I mental prepared for a day from hell.

Having said all that, they day turned out to be excellent. I quickly found some trunks, got changed in the nice warm clean changing room, and joined the family in the pool, which was a very good one with lots of interesting facilities for kids. The wave machine was on every five minutes, the water was nice and warm, the kids enjoyed going round the rapids, and Rebecca and I queued for the most extreme slide ride. It was a roller coaster sort of thing that you sat in a raft to ride. I have to admit to being a bit nervous whilst waiting to get on it. I was sure we'd exceed the maximum weight limit, and get stuck on the first climb. The rafts were propelled up ramps by powerful water jets, and I was sure Rebecca and I would be too heavy for them. I got stresses imagining the ride to be too fast for me, and then getting stuck and bringing the whole pool to a standstill whilst a assistant had to climb up to us.

Anyway, eventually we got to the front of the queue, and we did the ride and we didn't get stuck, but it was quite fast and scary for me. Rebecca is totally fearless, and lapped it up. I'm more like Oliver who is extremely cautious, but I have to pretend to be braver for the kids' sake. I'm no good at it.

After swimming we enjoyed a fine Pizza Express buffet, then watched a bit of the 'entertainment' by the redcoats and the Skyline Gang - a bit like Rod, Jane and Freddy for today. There are six of them and thay performed Copacabana by Barry Manilow, stopping the song every time a character was mentioned (Lola, Tony, Rico etc.) to pluck a hapless parent from the audience to be dressed up and humiliated. Actually they really entered into the spirit of it, and the song - incredibly - was strung out to abut half an hour. That's entertainment...

The Skyline Pavilion is a huge circus like building which houses the indoor facilities, and it's quite impressive. Huge entertainment area, amusements, bungee trampolines, shops, cafes, stalls and all the stuff you'd expect. The kids had a look around the shop which featured some wonderfully tacky Butlins memorabilia.

Before we left, we went into the paintballing and LaserQuest, and the kids did some paintball target practice, and a bit of laser combat. I wish I'd joined in - it looked great fun, and the kids really enjoyed it. They're desperate to find a laserquest type place near home.

When we got back to the house, the rain had stopped, and it turned out to be quite a nice evening, so I took Oliver down to the beach and we fished for an hour. A lovely still evening - we were the only people on the coast as far as the eye could see.

Ollie spotted a velvet crab on the beach and we took it down to the shoreline, then I cast for Ollie, and we sat and waited for a bite for an hour - reeling in and recasting every 10 minutes or so. We caught nothing, which in a way was a bit sad because I'd have loved Ollie to catch something whle we're here. But in another way it was fine by me because it meant I didn't have to touch a fish. Eugh!

In the evening we devised a new idea for a TV programme. Basically half a dozen or so people, at various states of inebriaton, sit around and talk about random stuff and occasionally ask for facts or details to be confirmed by a couple of other people with laptops and internet access. Last night's topics included Lorna Doone, Groats, Grits, Dubloons, Whale Sharks, the A39 at Porlock (UK's steepest A road) and many other topics too trivial to mention. It was more fun than I have made it sound. I hope.

My kids licked a cloud

Yesterday there was a break in the weather as we visited Lynmouth. Not Lynemouth - where I lived for 5 years. No. Lynmouth in Devon - an altogether different place.

The rain had eased and we decided to join the rest of the clan on a trip out for the morning. Damon had also been talking about the Cornish Pasties that you can buy in Lynmouth, so it seemed worth the journey. We travelled along the coast road until the single track lane with high hedges on both sides terminated in a white gate across the road, and a notice saying Toll Road. An old witch-like woman emerged from her gingerbread house to collect the toll, and also felt our children's fingers to see if they were fat enough to eat. Fortunately, our wise childfolk cunningly presented Antonia's bony finger to the shortsighted old crone, and we were granted safe passage and lived to drive another day.

The Toll Road was such an overgrown jungle of a narrow track that we wondered if it was actually a Troll Road and we had misread the sign. There were times on our winding path upwards through the undergrowth I thought we might be attacked by the baddies from the Indiana Jones film, but of course we weren't, although there were some rather violent looking sheep. A very dramatc road, it is, between Porlock and Lynmouth, over a steep rocky outcrop and so high that at the top we were inside the clouds. The kids took the opportunity to wind the windows down and interact with the clouds in various ways including punching and licking. Tick those experiences off the list, then.

As we arrived in Lynmouth, the clouds cleared and we descended into a picturesque little seaside village with thatched cottages, hotels, harbour crammed with little fishing vessels, and steep cliffs covered with lush greenery. We parked up and searched for the others who said they'd meet us At The Top.

The Top meant at the top of the Lynmouth Cliff Railway - a stretch of track that goes upwards at a scarily steep angle and akes passengers to the uppermost clifftop regions of the village. It was created by those clever Victorians as a means of getting cars (which were rubbish then - even worse than the ones I choose) from the top of the cliff to the bottom whilst remaining in full working order. In  those days it was just a platform, but now its got a strange little train carriage thing bolted on it that can accommodate up to 40 people. The whole thing is powered by water - there are 2 carriages joined by strong cable - so that when one is at the top the other is at the bottom running on parallel tracks. The top one is weighted down with water in a large tank underneath, whilst the bottom one empties it's water tank, and hey presto - gravity sends you gently downwards - whilst the bottom one slowly ascends. Then they swap over and you've got a rather clever train thing using no electricity at all.

The village is beautiful, but the shops are just about all of the Holiday Tat variety. I do wish that there was more variety and quality in shops at tourist destinations. They all seem to sell the same things. There were a couple of shops here that tried to be a bit different - one sold Native American carvings and jewellery for instance - but most sold oxes of fudge and shortbread in boxes printed with slogans like A Present For Gran - and there were loads of toy shops selling keyrings and rubbish. It didn't even interest our kids, and that's saying something. But nicely presented tat it was, and the place was wonderfully quaint.

After buying our Cornish Pasties, we went to the little park and sat in glorious sunshine whilst we munched the freshly baked pastry covered meat and potato delicacies. Yum yum. Very nice too - they were a bit spicy, but to my tastes the pastry was too flaky. It went everywhere.

After our little picnic we Thompsons went our separate ways, after visiting the Lynmouth Flood of 1952 Exhibition, featuring a wonderful model village and press cuttings from a day in 1952 when the village was virtually destroyed by a flash flood thundering through the gorge above and washing away whole buildings killing 13. Not many laughs in that exhibition, then.

In the afternoon we visited Minehead again and the kids had a look round a good toy shop where they managed to find some Yu Gi Oh cards. We also found a good Cider shop and got chatting to the chap in there who was originally from Manchester. He was quite pleasant and chatty and tried to get a response from Oliver who was a bit shy, and the poor chap thought he'd upset him. He hadn't - but he gave us a free little bottle of apple liqueur. Well done Ollie for being slightly shy.

A quick walk along the sea front brought memories flooding back of about 4 years ago when we came here for the day on the steam train. We were down for Toni's sister's wedding, and spent a fairly miserable day on the train getting here and were totally underwhelmed by the muddy beach and Butlins demographic. Today it was much nicer, and we laughed as we passed the hotel where we'd had the most unpleasant carvery meal of our lives, sitting in silence wishing we were somewhere else. Happy days!

A quick visit to the Co-op to refresh our supplies of Kinder Eggs and muffins, then back to the ranch in Porlock. In the evening we got takeaway pizza from a local hotel - they forgot to give is the chips and I had to drive back for them - how I laughed. Then later on we all watched The Apprentice and enjoyed seeing Michael finally get his comeuppance. About time. What a waste of skin that dweeb is. It staggers me that after 10 weeks of utter utter failure and stupidity he can still look SirAlan in the face and - without a hint of irony - describe himself as a Brilliant Outstanding Salesman. He was born to sell - it's in his blood. He didn't need to be taught, it's just what he does, and what he was born to do. According to him. Well seeing him bully people and whine on at them about how disappointed he was that they wouldn't buy from him, and how devastated they'd be if they didn't buy whatever it was, virtually crying when he inevitably fails to impress and getting more and more angry with the public who just don't like being bullied out of their money, it made me feel quite satisfied to watch him being fired.

And after all that I was utterly knackered.

Sunshine sunshine sunshine, lovely lovely sunshine!!!

Well you've got to hope haven't you. According to my sources, Northumberlad is in the midst of a heatwave, and hosepipe bans have already been called for. Whilst in Somerset - where four years ago I experienced the highest temperatures ever recorded in the UK - it is presently at flood alert.

We drove to Taunton yesterday and there were times when we thought the road may be impassible due to flooding. It was quite exciting, and for us a bit of an adventure. And that was befitting, because the reason we were going to Taunton was to see the new Indiana Jones movie at the South West's only multiplex cinema (that's how it feels). It was the same cinema where, four years ago, we sheltered from the blistering heat to see Spy Kids 3D with the kids. This time, we were using the place as a sort of Ark. Would there be land outside when we emerged, or a large lake smelling vaguely of cider?

The film was great - Spielberg directs and you can tell. He's got a great touch - and all the way through it was a rollercoaster ride of adventure and thrills (you can use that in publicity if you like Spielberg). As long as you disengage your logical brain parts it's wonderful. Just don't start asking how likely any of the set pieces would be. I'd be rubbish as an Indie sidekick. I'd drop and lose the important artifact almost immediately, and 'm not good with heights, enclosed spaces or cobwebs.

Ooh I almost forgot - before the film we went to a little Chinese Buffet restaurant for lunch, and I didn't hold out much hope for it - as from the outside it looked a bit run down and was almost empty. It also looked like there was very limited food choice. Well, there was relatively limited choice of food, but it was amongst the best Chinese buffets we've ever had. Great dishes, and a lovely surprise. Usually on holiday we seem to search in vain for nice places to eat, and I can remember getting to the end of a stay on many occasions bemoaning the fact that we haven't had one nice meal.

Last night we were lucky enough to have a second nice meal at a small restaurant in the village. Porlock is a lovely little place, and has a few nice looking places to eat, and we settled on one called Piggy in the Middle. It was run by a husband and wife team, and the food was tasty. I had a Thai fishcake followed by fillet steak and to finish, brandy basket filled wth clotted cream and fresh raspberries. They even gave us a lime sorbet between starter and man course. Nice when they give you something you haven't ordered.

When we got back to the house it was about 9.30pm and the power lines still hadn't been fixed. A tree had fallen on the lines and  when we returned from Porlock the house was still in darkness. Some of the folks had found candles, and there were one or two torches, but lack of light forced an earlyish night. Fortunately my new laptop still had loads of battery (no internet though unfortunately as it was running off the router) so we watched an episode of The Simpsons before settling down for the night.

The power was fixed at 1.30am.

Belated Monday Blog...

What day is it? I’ve already lost track - the usual routine of life at least helps me to remember which day of the week it is, and I’m always amazed at how soon into a holiday each day runs into the next with out much of a hint as to whether it’s a weekday or not.

Yesterday was Sunday - but today feels like a Sunday too, and the day before that did somehow. It’s like Groundhog Day, but a version of it where I’m in Somerset with my family, with rain pouring down outside. Not that we’re bored - like in The Cat in the Hat. There’s actually lots to do, even inside the house. Three floors to explore, 16 bedrooms, lounge, sitting room, games room, dining room, bar, kitchen (like a real hotel kitchen), office and other little rooms too.

Yesterday morning was a bit different because we’d hired a photographer to come out and take family photographs. Since this group of Hobbs descendants is seldom in the same county at the same time, let alone the same room, we thought it would be a good opportunity to mark the occasion. So the lady came out with her husband and daughter, set up her lights, and coaxed us into smiling and not blinking for about an hour. They’ll be available to view online in about a week. I really made me glad I don’t do that kind of photography for a living. She said we were the best behaved group with kids she’d worked with ever, and to me it seemed lke chaos. I couldn’t stand doing that every day - trying to will smiles out of kids using nothing more than a barely sustained tone of forced patience and a talking Shrek doll. Stressful.

After lunch Katrin and Oliver went fishing with the grandparents (fruitless - or at least fruit de mer-less) but they enjoyed it anyway. And I watched Russell Brand on DVD  his Doing Life tour. Very funny indeed - glad I was wearing headphones though so no-one else could hear the sort of filth  find laugh-out-loud funny.

Slight drama at teatime, as Rebecca our youngest found that she had a tick embedded in her head. I tried to remove it, but before Uncle Damon told us the secret of successful removal (twist anticlockwise, apparently) and I left some in, so Toni took her to hospital where skilled doctors failed to do any better than I had done. That made me feel a bit better, as I have had absolutely no training, and they’ve been practising for years, and we’re at a roughly similar skill level on tick removal. How they’ve wasted their lives. Ha! Rebecca, you’ll be glad to know is fine, and was very brave and unnervingly cheerful throughout. Strange child...

A quiet evening brought the day to a gentle, quiet, dark rainy close. Highlights of the day - tea on tap they’ve got this great water boiler in the kitchen and you can have absolutely instant boiling water all the time), scone with bramble jelly and clotted cream, and the shower in our room. It’s a power shower and it really highlights how puny our shower back at home is. I’d love a shower like that.

Normal service will be resumed shortly...

We're currently experiencing a power outage due to a fallen tree. The trees here in Somerset have become so waterlogged after 3 days of rain that they're falling over left right and centre. A nearby one fell on our power cable and the result is no proper internet. I think that other things may also be off, but I haven't bothered to check.

Sunshine, table tennis, songs and fish

Our first full day in Porlock yesterday was suny and bright, and even warm. Having settled i and explored the house, our kids chose the bedrooms furthest away from ours, along a dark winding corridoor. They're brave souls though, and like the adventure of a strange house. etter than me - I was too scared to go to the kitchen on my own last night to make a cup of tea. Too many viewings of The Shining I think. I am a true wuss.

I had a day of alternating rest and activity. A little while in the morning to read Empire and Stuff, followed by a spot of Table Tennis with Toni's sister, playing against Katrin, who was beating us hands down. It's good to have kids who are of an age where you don't have to 'humour' them when it comes to playing games, and can actually play properly against them. That happened many years ago with Katrin - all of our kids actually - and I'm fast running out of things that they can't beat me at without really trying. Playing baseball with Katrin yesterday she was hitting it out of sight when I bowled for her, then when we swapped round I literally never managed to hit the ball once. I am roobash as well as being a wuss.

Oliver was more excited about fishing than anything else, and he and Rebecca joined Margaret, Toni's mum, on the rocky beach for an afternoon of fishing (waiting, essentially). The kids gave up and came back to the house, and no sooner had they done so than Margaret caught a fish! We went back down later and tried again, but nothing doing.

In the evening it was the Eurovision Song Contest, but we didn't get round to watching it - I tuned in online at 11.30 for the final result. Shocking. James, Derek, Kate (Toni's sister) and Damon (her husband) and I have brought lots of musical instruments, and we spent much of the evening playing folk tunes and songs on ukuleles, guitar, accordion and fiddle. Sounded quite nice some of it - we're going to practice up half a dozen tunes to busk in Porlock later in the week. That's if the weather perks up, for today it's pouring wit rain and is scheduled to do so until about Wednesday.

This morning we're getting a family photograph taken by a photographer who lives nearby. Kate found her name on the Internet, and we thought it would be a nice memento for Derek and Margaret to give them a photo of their entire family. So I'm off to get dressed and smartened up. Catch you later - have a nice day until then.

Okay, so it turns out we're not in Devon fafter all.

I thought we were, but we're not. A close scrutiny of the OS web site shows me that we're very close to the border, but in fact we're in Somerset, on the north coast. The place is called Porlock Vale, a little west of Minehead, and it's very picturesque. The drive was a long one, and as usual the South West of England was close to being a car park for the last hundred miles or so. Not helped by the fact that we were stuck behind not one, not two but FOUR vintage buses. I don't know - you wait 40 years then four come along at once...

The house we're staying in is actually a hotel that we've got full use of for the week, without the staff being here, which is great. It's a short walk from the beach, and the beach is a gentle curve or large pebbles, broken up by artfully eroded staithes. The pebbles suddenly become meadowland, and there are many rabbits and pheasant and horses and stuff like that.

Whilst exploring the beach, Ollie found what we thought was a shark's head. It was in face a Dogfish - a type of shark so we were right. A fisherman must have caught it, cut off it's head and thrown it overboard to be washed up here. Its skin was very rough and sandpapery, and we carried it back to the house to show the others.

We're here with Toni's mum and dad, their 3 children and 7 grandchildren, and so far it has alternately rained and shone - although the weather isn't set to be wonderful it's good to be away from work for a while. It's a lovely part of the world, and I'm going to take the opportunity to enjoy spending some quality time with the kids, do a bit of reading, and use the Internet for leisure purposes for a change. Catch up on the blogs...

Driving down south

Where can we possibly be going? Well our car is currently on the A1 heading towards Devon. We left the bright warm sunshine of the North East coast soon after sunrise (that's what it felt like anyway) and we're now in drizzle somewhere in the middle of England. The National Forest, apparently. Aiming to arrive at Tea Time BST. By the way I'm a passenger at the moment, in case you're worried that I'm blogging whilst driving. I AM quite stupid but I can't multitask to that impressive degree. I think Andy can though.

Selective memory

I am fascinated by memory - and how it works. I was just thinking today that I have some very early memories from childhood.

I can actually remember a small snippet of crawling, before I could walk full time, I think - on the floor at home (8 Smallholdings, Woodhorn Demesne, Newbiggin by the Sea) with the sunlight bursting through the windows. Gilbert O'Sullivan's Clair was on the radio.

I also remember small snippets of a couple of holidays we had in the early 70s when I was 4 or 5 probably. One was at a small guest house in Grasmere, the other was at Howfoot Holiday Homes (flats) in Windermere or Ambleside I think. We came home from that one early for some reason. And Butlins too - in Pwllheli, Wales. We came home from that one early too because the chalet was so rubbish. It was brigh bleached sunlight in those days, according to my memory - not like today's murky global warmed atmosphere.

I was also thinking today of a fancy dress competition my mum entered me in when I must have been around the same age. I was dressed as a Baker, with a loaf of break under my arm, and "Nice one, Cyril" stitched onto the front of my apron. The funny think is which bits I remember. I recall very clearly helping mum stick the felt letters onto the apron - being very pleased that I had passed her the right letter that she asked for. And I remember standing in the street outside the Simonside Hall - very near where I now live - waiting with the other children before or after the competition. What I don't remember at all is anything else about the day. I have no idea if I won or lost, was placed or ran from the hall crying. The memories I have are random and very uneventful.

And it's the same throughout my life. Some of my clearest memories aren't the traumatic or euphoric ones - they're the mundane ones. Crossing a particular road on a particular day. A baked potato with cheese in the canteen at college. An assembly at first school about Louis Pasteur. A small plastic boat in a rock pool, weighted down at one side with whelk shells to make it float level. Watching dad mow the lawn, and the exact sound of the green mower's metal cuttings bucket thing on the front as it detaches for emptying, then clunks back on with a dull scrape. In fact I've just spent ages looking on the internet for a picture of one just like dad's and couldn't. The internet is rubbish isn't it?

Oh well - who can guess as to why we remember some things and not others? What is YOUR most vivid yet  ordinary childhood memory?

See also http://edition.cnn.com/2008/HEALTH/conditions/05/07/miraculous.memory/index.html