I know, I know, the blog goes dead for ages and then you get three in one day. Still, I just wanted to share this lovely photo from today, taken during a brief break from the serious business of learning to ride bikes.
Archive for the 'Pictures' Category
Family and friends will already be aware of Silvery, the frog who has taken up residence in our greenhouse. That’s a picture of Silvery on the right, taken by Nicola.
I don’t know what’s so special about our greenhouse all of a sudden but Silvery has recently been joined by two more frogs, not to mention four newts who all now live under one of the growbags. Hannah and Lauren took on the job of naming this amphibious army and were not daunted by the task. So, we now have:
Frogs: Silvery, Goldy and Rainbow
Newts: Emma, Gemma, Ella and Cinderella
Hannah and Lauren went on a school trip last week (a day out at Lyme Park). Here is the list of things to take that Hannah brought home from school. (Click it for a bigger version.)
List for the trip
- Lunch
- bag
- thining caps (thinking caps)
- listening ears
- good manners
- treyners (trainers)
- coat (i.e. rain mac – it was baking hot)
- Bottle (i.e. of water)
- hat (it means sun-hat, although one of the girls tried to take a woolly bobble hat)
- Biran (brain)
- sunglasses
- books
- suncrim (sun cream)
Hannah and Lauren are in the grip of a new craze, especially useful for instant conflict resolution: the game of stone, paper, scissors. In this action shot, Hannah’s stone has just blunted Lauren’s scissors:
Lauren’s dead easy to beat because she always starts with scissors. On the other hand, Hannah hasn’t cottoned on to this yet so it still ends up being a pretty fair contest. This weekend they must have played at least a million rounds and they show no sign of tiring of it yet.
Breaking news: Hannah and Lauren both appear to have wobbly teeth!
There’s a distinct lack of rigidity to the lower front teeth of each twin. Further news here as it breaks.
In the meantime, the girls are well prepared for this momentous occasion. They have both acquired (either as gifts or via pocket money) small pink sparkly tooth containers which appear to be compliant with known EU tooth fairy regulations. They’ve also been dropping plenty of tips to make sure the tooth fairy doesn’t mistakenly use 1970s tooth pricing guidelines in the 21st century.
Lauren: Zosha’s lost TWO teeth! And she got two pounds from the tooth fairy!
Us: What, two pounds for each tooth? Or two pounds for both of them?
Lauren: (pensively) Actually, I think it was twenty pounds.
Hannah: Yeah, twenty pounds!
Us: Per tooth? (well what the hell…)
“The best in the whole wide wierd” by bitrot
Hannah wrote this questionnaire this morning and got me and Nicola to write in our answers. I suspect we were biased.
The answers to the obvious questions were:
1. “Oh yeah, it’s meant to say ‘world’.”
2. (Regarding the cactus-shaped object) “Er… it’s a bogey!”
A conversation with one of the girls yesterday shortly after taking the attached photo with my cameraphone.
“I wish I had a phone like that.”
“You don’t need a phone, sweetheart, they’re only for grown-ups.”
“Where did you get it from?”
“From a shop.”
“Did they have another one exactly the same?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well when I’m a mummy can you take me to that shop and show me so I can buy that one?”
“What a terrific idea. Of course I can.”
It’s lovely to think I’ll still be needed. An extra bonus point to the first reader who can correctly identify the twin in question… 
This is a very clever bit of digital wizardry, but it should come with a health warning for parents of twins. I nearly had a heart attack! 
Whirling twirling whirring by Nicola Whitaker
Nicola (Hannah and Lauren’s other trained handler) took this wonderful picture recently on a visit to Skipton Castle. The bright flurry of activity in the middle is two fast-moving young girls. The whole picture is a perfect visual representation of life in our family – everything flashing past in a squealing blur of pink.
Lauren has been feeling under the weather with a bit of a cold this week, so on Wednesday Hannah took herself off and wrote her a get well soon note:
(Unfortunately, she used Lauren’s pink glitter pen without permission, and the subsequent ruckus did take the edge off the gesture slightly.)
Before Christmas, Nicola and I went to see Hannah and Lauren’s school play – a charming production entitled The Bossy Christmas Fairy. We were on the second row from the front and I had my camera with me.
Hannah and Lauren’s class were on stage, and I was taking pictures. Neither of us saw anything strange at the time, although I do distinctly remember, at one point, feeling a strange chill pass over the back of my neck. Unusual, I thought, for a December day, with the main door to the playground ajar behind us, but at the time I thought no more about it.
It was some days before I got a chance to have my roll of film developed. (Just run with me on this one, OK?) I returned to the chemist’s days later to pick up the photos, and again, I felt the same eerie chill, just as I opened the door to leave. At the time, of course, I thought nothing of it.
I returned home and made myself a cup of tea. I took it with me into my study, lit a cigar and peeled open the film developer’s envelope. At that precise moment I felt a most unsettling chill run right down my spine, back up again, then back down again. Of course, at the time I thought etc etc.
And then, leafing through the photos I came to this one:
I need hardly tell you how startled I was by the image of the little boy, pale and ghostly, going the opposite way to everyone else… DISEMBODIED!!!
Once I had poured a glass of port and composed myself, I telephoned the school. In quivering tones I asked the secretary my question and after a few moments she returned with the answer. The answer I had been dreading. I barely had the breath to thank her before hanging up.
In the school, in that very room, on that very stage – one year to the day before I took my photograph….. there had been a school play. And yes, a little boy had appeared in it. Several, in fact, at least one of whom, I have no doubt, ventured at some point from the left end of the stage to the right…
Of course, at the time, I thought nothing of it.
In our kitchen drawer we have many teaspoons. Moreover, we’ve been able to identify four different types of teaspoon within our collection, a testament to the many that have escaped into the wild over the years and had to be replaced with mismatching ones.
Of these four types, three are recurrent within the collection. The fourth, however, is unique. There is only one of the Fourth Type Of Spoon. Its comrades have long since departed for the great cutlery drawer in the sky. It is the lone survivor.
This fact has not escaped the attention of Hannah and Lauren, who have accorded this spoon the highest of honours. It has become… The Special Spoon. For eating yoghurts there is simply no contest: the Special Spoon is The One.
Note: Two girls. One Special Spoon. (Tell me if I’m ladling this on a bit thick.)
All manner of deviousness can now be observed at yoghurt-eating time, as the girls compete for the ultimate eating experience in which there can be only one victor. For example:
Lauren: Daddy, Hannah’s got the special spoon!
Hannah: But Lauren had it yesterday!
Lauren (starting to cry): No I didn’t, Hannah did!
Hannah: I didn’t! Honestly, Daddy!
Lauren: And she’s got the special pants on!*
Me: Right, Hannah, if you’ve got the special pants you can give Lauren the special spoon.
Hannah: Gwmph. (Sound of spoon being popped into mouth.)
Lauren: But it’s got her germs on it now! (Tears.)
Me: Hannah, give it to me. (Spoon is seized.) Lauren, shall I wash it for you?
Lauren shakes head woefully.
Hannah (brightly): I’ll have it, Daddy!
Me: Hannah, get a spoon and eat your yoghurt.
After all this ritual kerfuffle, you would be forgiven for imagining that the Special Spoon has some kind of compelling aesthetic properties that set it aside from mere normal spoons. Perhaps it’s got a handle in the shape or a cat? Or a picture of Barbie on it? Perhaps it has a unique shape to the bowl that somehow makes yoghurts taste better?
Nothing of the sort. And here I throw open to you, the readers, the Special Spoon Challenge! The first person to correctly identify the special spoon from the collection below wins a very special prize!**
* Oh yes, there are special knickers too. They’re tatty and pink with a yellow cat on. Don’t get me started.
** (May contain germs and traces of yoghurt but you can always wash it.)
Hannah and Lauren have discovered the joys of playing the classic children’s game Guess Who. The trouble is, they’ve discovered different joys to the rest of us, which turns a game with them into a supreme test of will which would challenge the likes of Florence Nightingale or Nelson Mandela.
For the record, here’s how a normal game of Guess Who goes:
Player 1: Does your person have a beard?
Player 2: Yes.
Player 1 knocks down all people without beards.
Player 2: Does your person have red hair?
Player 1: No.
Player 2 knocks down all people with red hair.
And so on. But who wants to play like that… when you could play like this?
Hannah: Does your person haaaaaaave… [long pause]… a beard or a moustache?
Lauren: A moustache.
Me: No, Lauren, just say yes or no!
Lauren: OK, no.
Nicola: You mean yes?
Lauren: Yes. A yellow moustache.
I hang my head in despair.
Nicola: Right, come on Hannah.
Hannah: Sooo… moustaches… down?
Nicola: No, think – their person has got a moustache. So…
Hannah: So people… without moustaches… stay up?
Nicola: No, they go down.
Hannah: Oh yeah!
Hannah and Nicola knock down the moustaches. I suspect Nicola’s knocking down the non-yellow ones too.
Me: Right, our go Lauren.
Lauren: Has your person got a bit of a funny face?
Hannah: Yes!
Give me strength…
After a busy day, doesn’t something like this make it all doubly worthwhile?
