In which bf follows the rules of engagement superbly

4th Jan 09

Last stop on the luxury birthday tour was Stonehenge.

Stonehenge. Sigh. Stonehenge on a crisp Winter's day. Deep Sigh.

Simply my favourite place in England.

Which makes it all the more fitting that bf proposed to me at Stonehenge.

It was very sudden, very short, very sweet and went something like this:

B: (carrying Jasmine, who is wriggling) Girlfried?

G: (a bit distracted. jiggles Felix up and down in the bub carrier) Yes?

slight pause

B: (with meaning) Girlfried. Will you marry me?

micro pause

G: (agog) Boyfried. (places hand on boyfried's arm) Are you seriously asking me to marry you?

Boyfried nods

G: (realisation dawns - this is one of those moments I'm going to remember for the rest of my life so I blurt out:) Of course I will. Of course I will.

Smiles. Kisses. Big family hug. Girlfried blubs copiously.

And the photo story goes something like this:

It was sub-zero so I put my cashmere gloves on Felix' feet to keep his tootsies warm. It looked so wrong. Like a mutant chicken. People would look and burst into hysterics. I had to take the gloves off in the end it got too much, so thankfully, Felix the mutant chicken-boy was not present when bf proposed, but Felix the gorgeous boy-bub witnessed it instead.

My engagement day. Jasmine still steals the show by looking cute. Typical.

Big grins, plus a pouty look from Jambeans.
Spot the almost honest woman on the right.

Luxury birthday part 3 - that walk

Our walk was memorable for all the wrong reasons. We found ourselves on a ridge in the middle of nowhere, on the most perfect sunny, frosty, cloudless Winter's day, as Jasmine and Felix both screamed their heads off, at such volume I thought my brain would burst. True to form, Jasmine refused to walk and was wriggling for Britain - wouldn't go on shoulders properly, wouldn't do piggy back properly - so I ended up carrying her in my arms whilst bf wrestled with the 'instructions' (our luxury accommodation being too tight or stupid or both to provide us with an actual map which found us relying instead on 4 sides of typed A4 rich in mundane content about local history but somewhat lacking in useful information to tell us where to turn) TTOS (the rucksack containing the 'Ten Tonnes Of Shit' you need to carry around with you, went up to 'Twenty' after Felix was born) and Felix (still screaming).

On we ploughed - tension knots already well and truly formed, now warping and twisting further - totally incapable of enjoying the perfect weather and on the brink of a furious argument. We just looked at each other and thankfully both burst out laughing. The kids screamed on. Trying anything and everything, we found some manky kiddy crisps in the TTOS - popped one in Jasmine's mouth and suddenly she just stopped. Popped one in Felix' mouth and suddenly he fell asleep.

Utter calm descended, the tension ebbed away. Felix slept and we fed Jasmine crisps all the way home. Enjoyable walk after all.

Two words spring to mind: 'jail' and 'bait'

Jambeans and daddy - before the walk

Squealycops - also before the walk - little did we know what they had planned for us

What could be more perfect?

Luxury birthday part 2 - the bathroom

Our luxury birthday bathroom at Bishopstrow was simply amazing. It was HUGE. The bubs loved it and literally spent hours in there. I kid you not - we couldn't have asked for a better play room. It had wastepaper baskets to play with and window ledges for cruising and a wide step for clambering and an enormous shower for hiding in and rubber ducks to chew and baskets full of toilet paper to unravel and a gigantic bath to play in with a telly. Even bf was in seventh heaven and spent a couple of nights having a soak and avidly watching the darts (yes - the darts) simply "because he could".

Luxury birthday part 1 - the injustice

Our much-needed, long-anticipated, 35th birthday luxury jaunt to Bishopstrow House started with my head down the toilet bowl puking my guts up with food poisoning. Cursing our shitty luck, and after a terse argument about inadequate travel insurance I retreated to bed and the discomfort of my aching limbs, wondering if I was going to die, whilst the others sat tight (inasmuch as a toddler and a baby know how to do that) and waited to see whether we would have to cancel, lose our mini holiday and still have to pay for it, or whether we should risk it and go. After a vomit- and diarrhoea-free couple of hours we threw some bags together and got in the car. Felix screamed at full volume for roughly half the journey down so we arrived in pissy, stressy and achey mood, turned the corner and were immediately struck by the breathtaking stature of our country manor - home for the next two nights.