No, seriously, this was the best (and yet the most frustrating) summer holiday ever. The sproglets, being almost 8 and 10, were fantastic company. We three were at various times trapped under builders, but they were very nice builders and they've pretty much fixed The Larches to its former glory with cracks and rotten woodwork mended. We three escaped to the beach or to pals only on days when the men were busy elsewhere on other jobs, but I suppose that made our escapes all the sweeter.
To amuse themselves at the house the sproglets cobbled together dangerous looking go-karts which they hurtled down the concrete drive in. On most days they took charge of their own lunches, thrilled by my insane relinquishment of the Rangemaster. They cooked boiled eggs or melted cheese onto toast. One day the 9yo heated tinned tomatoes with anchovies, the smell in the house beckoning to every feral cat in Shropshire.
The sheep have been helpful playmates too; they seem to be able to escape the confines of their paddock at least once a day before we capture them while the chooks keep trying to lay siege to the new entrance hall!
We've had a pet-a-thon this summer, petting many creatures we've not previously petted:
First there were our very own lambs now big fat sheep.
Then there were the creatures in Midland Safari Park,
And, probably the 9yo's favourite, the baby seagull in Swanage.