I woke up early this morning to discover that my tongue had been replaced by a well-used pub carpet…it was as sticky and as furry as a cat which had been rolling in melted, fluff encrusted jelly babies. However, the Baby Who Does Not Sleep had decided it was time for breakfast, so up I got. I attempted to explain the shenanigans involving the beer festival, tiger island, Vigo and the party at the museum to my relatives but I think maybe it was a case of ‘you had to be there’ to fully appreciate the tone of the previous evening.
In light of feeling a bit ‘tired’, we had a quiet day. I printed off some photos of the holiday so far at the supermarket, then we tiptoed around the field of goose poo and paddled with the girls in Springbank Park in a shallow paddling pool staffed by two lifeguards who topped up the pool chemicals, tested the water every 30 minutes or so, and prevented any anti-social splashing.
We then returned to our hosts’ house and Catrin put her dictator hat on while I started work on a holiday photo album/ scrapbook for our hosts. I could hear her ordering around two executive directors, a senior medical professional and a police sergeant in the garden…
Catrin: “Uncle Jim! UNCLE JIIIIIIIM!!!! You can play hide and seek with me, OK? I will hide and you have to find me!” (she scuttled off into some bushes)
Uncle Jim: “Erm OK. I’m coming to find you”
Catrin: (from the bushes) “NO! You have to count to 10 first!!!”
Uncle Jim: “Oh. OK. 1,2,3…”
As the sun set we toasted marshmallows on the fire pit. Catrin declared herself an expert in this field following a masterclass by Uncle Jim. She set about toasting marshmallows for everyone present (whether they wanted one or not), while Bethan set about coating herself and everyone within grabbing distance with the stickiest substance known to mankind. At least her sticky fingers tasted nice when she shoved them in my mouth as I tried to put her to bed.