Out in the Toon

Newcastle-Upon-Tyne is a great place. The people (Geordies) are warm, friendly and hospitable. The accent (once you tune into it) is charming. The architecture is lovely, the history is fascinating, the setting, picturesque.

OK, it's maybe not the warmest spot in the world, but really we can't complain about the weather (only two rainy days, and that was in Scotland).

The kids have enjoyed shopping and exploring the fabulous musuems with Grandma...

We've enjoyed some good nights out...

*Gasp* Who is that attractive blonde woman Mr G is smooching??? Oh, that's OK, it's his Mam.

Winnie took us for a great night out to see her favourite band, The Happy Cats. Eeeeh! It was greeeet!
Winnie is something of a legendary Happy Cats groupie. She tracks these guys all over, and now we have seen them for ourselves, we can see why.

The music is very catchy, causing unplanned-for bouts of toe tapping, joviality, swaying and even dancing. By the end of the night the whole crowd is singing along and the atmosphere is no longer one of strangers at a pub, but of friends enjoying a great night out together.

Happy Cats groupies are on a first name basis with the band members. Winnie even got a song dedicated to Mr G and me... "My Sweet Northern Boy". It wasn't at all embarrassing, no honest!

Nothing like a night out in Newcastle for a good time. We finished it off with Spanish Tapas and a taxi ride. Aunty Irene was watching the bairns and apparently all went fine, except for the fact that cousin Cath used to think she'd have three kids, but after helping her mam babysit our lot, she's changed her mind. Bless.

Here's me and cousin Erin (and Barry). Cheeeeese, Grandma! Erin is going to have a baby soon... yay, more cousins! xx

Ahhh, me and Mr G. Nice.
.............

Dash got a dream fulfilled when he got to have a tour of the Newcastle United football stadium.

Here he is with Grandma. When Dash was a baby, Grandma got his name engraved here on this stone, at the stadium. Finally he gets to see it for the first time. He has a framed certificate on the wall of his room.

Mr G got some great video footage. Dash's eyes were huge as he stood in the players' dressing rooms, sat in the team seats and "signed" for Newcastle United.

"For real???!!" he asked the Tour Guide who handed him the pen. Bless!

The dream was topped off by Dash getting to see his first ever live game, last Wednesday, against Queens Park Rangers. Mr G said Dash thoroughly enjoyed himself, singing away with the crowd as they chanted. When Newcastle scored Mr G threw him in the air and they celebrated like mad. The game finished in a draw but The Toon are still 3 points clear at the top of the table. Wahoo! (I know, what's it coming to when I know all the players' names and the 2nd Division Football Table placings??)

Not one to miss out, our Princess came with me to the Toon for a Pamper Day. We went to Fenwicks where a lovely floor manager got her set up with a free makeover and sent her home with a bag of perfume samples.

The girl at the makeup counter was a crack up - she was telling Princess the ingredients of all the products she was using (like, a five year old would care??)

She seemed disappointed when we didn't take any products, so I went back thinking maybe we'll get a lipgloss with some of Princess' spending money... but a lipgloss was £16.50 ($NZ45)!

Sorry pet, not for a wee girl's lipgloss! (We found one for £2 on another counter and Princess was just as stoked.)

We finished it off with getting her nails done... for £5. Bargain.
It was a lovely mummy-daughter time.

Newcastle has been great. We can't believe we are leaving tomorrow *sniff*

Man we are going to miss everyone so much!

Click for the next part of our Journey: Och Aye the Noo (Scotland)

Random Findings

OK, I had my whole night planned. Dash and Mr G are away to the Toon to watch the football match (howay the lads!)... BIG NIGHT for them. Meanwhile me and Mr G have been away on a little adventure of our own... which I had planned to tell y'all about while the other two bairns slept and the lads are off at the match.

Ahem. Slight problem. I sent the camera... with Mr G! So I can't upload all my lovely photos for the great story I planned to tell. So it will have to wait. Plan B... upload Grandma's photos from her camera (she's taken loads of great ones) and share those with you guys...?

Ahem. For some strange reason we can't figure out how to upload the jolly things. There's a glitch; the photos have gone missing somewhere. We'll have to try again later.

OK... Plan C?? Well, while trawling through grandma's computer trying to find her photos I came across these gems from the archives, some of which I have never seen before. This is Team G in the pre-Scrag days, when our Princess was just wee. Ohhh, the bairn! (Man I have really been here for too long! Aunty Irene says I'm starting to talk Geordie.)

So have a laugh at us from 2005...

Here's me and Dash in prison. I can't remember our crime, it was just too long ago. And he was just too little to be seen over the stocks. I think he was two and a half??

Team G 2005, at the airport, saying hello or goodbye to our lovely Grandma (again). Check out that sweet Baby Princess.

We were so young and sexy back then (only 4 years ago)! I think Princess was nearly one in these pics...

This is even earlier... look at the size of our girl! I think Grandma came twice that year. It's around winter, I can tell because of the scarves and hats.

Yep, amazing. Look at me with Princess on my back, wearing Mr G's ski hat. I have no clue where or when this is, just that it seems like a lifetime ago.

Cheers! This is later in the year, see, summer! It's at our old house in our incey wincey townhouse backyard. I think I was drinking orange juice. These days it would probably be cider... or a shandy.

They were great pals back then, before Princess could talk much. Gee she was cute (still is of course, but now she's waaaaay louder... ask anyone here in England! They've all seen it for themselves. Poor Grandma; she'll need a holiday to recover from all the noise and mayhem!)

I don't know where this was. I don't recognise this couch. All I know is that it was Christmas 2005. And this is Princess, The Early Days.

Ahhhh, and here's Dash. Sweet little guy. Still is. Just waaaaaay louder. Ask anyone.

So, tomorrow morning the Clan is off to Scotland for three nights. I may get a chance to blog there. Maybe??? Not sure. Then it's back here to Newcastle for two more nights, then (arggghhh!) it's thye end of the road and back home to NZ. I can't believe how fast it's gone and yet at the same time I honestly feel like we've been away 6 weeks. At least. Maybe 8?

New Zealand seems so far away, it's legendary in my mind, full of lovely people and sheep, sunshine, green fields. A bit like Middle Earth. A long way from here: the land of the round football, buckets in sinks, brick row houses and narrow streets. The land of Tesco and ASDA and Greggs. Where the range of food you can buy is spectular but McD's costs £6.99 for a meal deal (NZ$15)

Anyway, until I get the chance to blog again, a big thanks *hug* to all my lovely friends who have stayed in touch, commented or emailed. You've helped me avoid feeling homesick.

Ohhh Man... and I can't believe it but ALL of Mr G's family reads my blog!!! *waves to family* I had no idea! Everyone I meet says, "Eeeeh Simone Pet! We love that blog! Eeeeh! It's greeeet!"

Hence the disclaimers on my last post!! (yes the one about the undies and bras)... Uncle Alan you weren't meant to read it!!! I had warning signs and everything! *blush*

Ahhh well, never mind! Luv ya all!

xxx

Click for the next part of our Journey: Out in the Toon

Size Matters

WARNING: Blokes stop reading NOW. For girls only!

I always knew that being in the UK would present a body-image challenge to me. Every time I have come here I have always ended up feeling big and frumpy.

Even when I was dead skinny (just after I got married) I still felt large when shopping here. Maybe because I'm automatically a size larger in England. Maybe because I am self-conscious meeting all Mr G's friends and family and being under the microscope.

Yes, I have my insecurities about the way I look. But somehow at home in my comfort zone surrounded by my lovely friends and familiar places I feel OK about myself - on the curvy side of average. I haven't felt any great urgency to rush out and diet or exercise madly. My lazy ways have seemed perfectly fine until now.

Confession Time: (now, really blokes, if you didn't heed my warning to stop reading before, you'd better do it now!!)

... I hate underwire bras so I have still been wearing... my maternity bras *gasp*

... AND Mr G finally spoke up and complained about my unsexy old undies.

He said, Babe I love you, but really you need to go and buy some new undies. These are just sad.

I am simply too fond of comfort. My old stretchy undies and maternity bras are comfy. But it's time to move on *sniff*

Mr G enlisted the help of my lovely pal Maya when we were staying with her. She took me bra and undie shopping at a fancy bra-fitting shop called Bravissimo. It was a bit traumatic but I survived. Eek. Would you believe I am Size 34 Double G???

{YES I am talking about Bras and undies. Uncle Allan you only have yourself to blame!}

I nearly fell off my chair. So now I have some new bras which make my clothes look way better on and are much sexier (the underwires are taking a bit to get used to but Maya made me promise to persevere... and I am). We got some silky little undies to match (which are sexy and comfy, so there you go.)

But after spending a day clothes and shoe-shopping for Mr G (a.k.a Mr Imelda Markos) I was feeling a bit left out. Kind, supportive Mr G said, Why don't we come back tomorrow and go clothes shopping for you?

So the next day we returned to town, armed with our credit cards. Mr G said his aunties had given him some advice on where to take me. We walked past Primark, Next and M&S. We entered a shop called Evans.

Hmmm, seems to be a few older women in here... I was looking for jeans, and headed for the nearest rack... which on closer inspection seemed to start at Size 18.

I felt a prickle of horror go up my neck. Surely not?? My husband has taken me clothes shopping in... A Big Girls Shop???

The skinny 20-something salesgirl smiled condescendingly at me (middle-aged Big Girl that I am). Did I need any assistance??

No! I wanted to get out of here!

Mr G didn't understand my distress, and insisted I try on the size 18 jeans. Of course they swam on me.

Get me out of here!!! I demanded through clenched teeth.

Out on the pavement I ranted through my tears: How could you do that to me?? Am I that big that I need a Plus-size shop?? Is that what the aunties think?? Did they tell you where to find clothes big enough to stretch over your wife's jumbo backside?? I was mortified, horrified.

Mr G explained the misunderstanding. He'd innocently asked advice on some good shops to take me. He mentioned my paranoia about the clothing size difference here. They suggested Next and M&S... but if all else fails Evans has a wide range of sizes (apparently from size 14UK, but I never saw any smaller sizes).

OK. I felt a little better. I forgive you Mr G. So they don't all think I'm a blimp??

(Well, I have had three big babies; I really was huge with Scrag and he's left me with a bit of a jelly belly, so you can understand my paranoia?)

We headed to Next and the first pair of jeans I tried on fitted like a glove and looked great (UK size 16 = NZ size14).

I also got a way-cool jacket and a gorgeous M&S dress. I left satisfied. I've worn the jeans and jacket every day since - dead comfy. But I think I've had my fill of clothes shopping now. Way too traumatic.

Maybe just some new shoes...?? I don't have any issues about my feet, after all.

.......................

Click for the Next installment in our UK Journey: Escape (where I wear my new dress)

Dash Does London

When Dash was in Year One, his class learnt about England. Dash felt particularly proud because his dad is English, so he was from there... He learnt about Landmarks like Big Ben, Tower Bridge, Buckingham Palace and the Welsh Guards. A trip to England would not be complete without a chance to see these legends in the flesh. A trip to London was a must. What a buzz to be able to show him that the places he learns about in school are real. What a privilege to open up the world to him in this way.

On our return from Cornwall we spent three nights with my dear friend (and bridesmaid) Maya and her family. They graciously offered to escort us into London and show us the sights. Maya's hubby Andy got out the A-Z and the Tube map and plotted us a route. We purchased an all-day rail pass and set off - lugging 5 kids, two prams and a picnic.

First stop was "BuckleyNam Palace" (as Dash calls it). Here's Dash and Princess with new best friend Elisa.

Here we are - the whole clan - plus Elisa. We managed to spot some Welsh Guards marching. Dash would have happily stood and watched them for half an hour, but we had to move on if we were going to cover everything in one afternoon.

There were crowds of tourists (like us) lined up poking their noses through the Queen's Front Gate. Poor Lizzie. She mustn't ever get a minute's peace.

Here's me with the kids in front of the statue of Queen Victoria.

We walked through St James Park and did a bit of Squirrel Spotting - darned fast little things! So hard to photograph. Dash wouldn't let me quit chasing them until I had a good close up (this was the best I could do). The kids continued chasing squirrels while we had a coffee from a conveniently located street vendor, and then munched down our Ham Sammies...

... and then bumped into these fellows. Pelicans. How unusual!

Here's me and Maya (another self-portrait - I love that angle - No double chins!). Don't you love it when you have a friendship that time and distance don't seem to diminish? It's been over 10 years since we lived in the same country. Nearly 3 years since we've seen each other. Yet we just click back in as if we've never been apart. Friends like that are priceless. Maya reminded me that I had only given her 2 months notice for our wedding - yet she came from the other side of the world... What a girl!

At long last we spot Big Ben. Dash is suitably impressed.

In front of Horseguards Museum are some actual Horseguards. We wonder whether they are disappointed that all their highly specialised training has resulted in them standing stock still while being photographed by hundreds of tourists each day? We find an overpriced souvenir stand; Dash buys a Welsh Guard Teddy.

London still has the classic red public telephone boxes. I remember these from when I was a kid - 20c and you could ring anyone anywhere in NZ and talk as long as you like. Ahhhh, how times have changed. Needless to say Dash got no reply when he tried to dial our number - he didn't realise it cost £££!

We took a water taxi down the Thames; a great way to save our tired feet and see some more sights.

Here's Tower Bridge. I was imagining the gory sight of William Wallace's head on a pike, and giving myself a little chill, but then Andy told me that it was London Bridge they used to put the heads on, and that it was sold to the Americans some time ago! Never mind.

At this point we realised we had missed our stop and ended up in the business sector. A happy mistake, because it meant we had gotten to sail right under the bridge.

Dash and Princess were involved in a bit of a friendship triangle with Elisa. Princess got put out because Elisa had taken quite a shine to Dash, who can be very charming. There was a bit of sulking and a few tears on Princess's part, when Elisa seemed to prefer playing with Dash. However, when you're aged three, boys are great when it comes to running and chasing, but they are not very interested in dressing up as fairies or putting on tea parties. So in the end peace was restored, and Princess got her friend back.

After a long tiring day we were glad of London's great Tube system. Poor Scrag finally fell asleep with the rocking motion and stayed comatose even when we transferred trains in great noisy stations.

Our London Day Trip was a bit of a mammoth undertaking, but thanks to our great route-planner Andy, there were no double-ups or bits missed out, and we made it back with nobody left behind or lost, and a bunch of souvenirs to show for it.

The only "sight" we missed seeing was Stonehenge. But as I explained to Dash, it was just a teensy bit too far away... So we'll leave seeing that one for another day, another visit. I'm sure we'll be back.

Click for the next part of our Journey: Escape

OR if you dare Read my Personal Post: Size Matters

Roots

My grandfather was born in Redruth, Cornwall. When I told my mum that we were going to holiday there, she was envious as it's a place she's always longed to visit... to see the birthplace of her father. Of course she insisted that we couldn't pass up the opportunity to go and see/photograph/stand in the place where Grandad came from.

His parents (my great-grandparents) emigrated to New Zealand when Grandad was just two years old.

Now, I am not really a family-tree/historical research kind of gal. I find it interesting but not hugely so. I know mum was a little disappointed at my lack of enthusiasm, but I promised we would try to find the house: A large historical home called Pednandrea, near a landmark mining chimney.

I imagined a smallish village with a couple of streets. I'd seen pictures of the house so didn't bother to check out the documents, maps and photos mum offered to give me. It's gotta be easy to find, right??

Well... on the day we headed to Lands End we went via Redruth. Imagine my shock when it turned out to be quite a large industrial town. How on earth was I meant to find grandad's house in this place??

Winnie (ma-in-law) suggested the library, and we were on our way there when I spied in the distance: the Mining Chimney! I knew I'd seen it all my life in photos and that the house couldn't be far. It gave me a queer shiver and I found myself getting quite excited. After all, the fact that Grandad was from here, meant that I am part Cornish! And it's such a lovely place, surely I would be pretty cold to not feel some pride in my heritage?

The librarian confirmed the name of the mining chimney was the Pednandrea Stack, and gave us directions to the house - we were just around the corner!

There was a sign on the gate, we drove in and found... a strange house. Not the one I remembered from the photos. It had been recently turned into 4 flats, painted, and sold. We queried a workman, was this the only Pednandrea House??

Yes, he said, the old Mine Chief lived here. Was that them? I drew a blank - I can't remember what my great-grandad did for a living (I should have paid more attention to my mum!)

Well, said Winnie, this has got to be it, Pet. There's only one Pednandrea House. It's probably just changed over the years. Probably painted a different colour. That's why you don't recognise it.

So we took some photos, I posed by the sign and we left. I felt strangely empty. Was that it???

A week later when I had access to the internet again, I decided to do some checking. Why did my Grandad's parents emigrate to NZ (a raw pioneering outpost back in the early 20th century) when they must have been very well off if they were living in such a house? And when Cornwall was such a lovely spot? I think I'll have to do some more digging, learn a bit more about my great-grandparents who emigrated. I think there's a mystery there.

I googled Pednandrea House... and stumbled upon a real estate listing...

...for the house in my mum's family photos. The map put it right around the corner from the one we had visited. Apparently it's called Pednandrea Count House. I have photos of the wrong blinkin house! Arrrggghhh!! So near and yet so far.

Bummer. I am so gutted.

(Lesson: Next time, listen to my mum)

Click for the next part of our Journey: Dash Does London