Busted!

I've been informed by no less authoritative a figure than my Mother that I've been a bit of a stinge with photos of Henry Robert. It seems that our time here in Hoylake has caused me to neglect grandmotherly requirements for updates of a most regular nature.

Use this virtual folder to view and/or download all the photos we have taken to date.

Half term holiday

We're all in Hoylake at the moment, enjoying some time with the wider Bates clan during the half-term holidays. This gives Livvy an opportunity to be royally entertained (and spoilt) and Henry a chance to settle into a rhythm without his parents turning into dead-eyed zombies. Which, mercifully, he now seems to have done. He's waking once in the middle of the night and being fed, meaning that once the last feed at around 11 is done, we can have two good chunks of sleep between then and around 6.30 - 7.00. Whisper it, but we may just have struck gold a second time in the old good baby stakes.
The week is, as ever, being spent in a blur of noisy activity, with four grandchildren demanding more or less constant entertainment - and a fifth seemingly content with a nice sunny spot in the window for a snooze between feeds. Organised chaos reigns - yesterday the cinema, tomorrow the indoor adventure playground, dog-walking, bike-riding, ball-kicking, garden-tearing, sugar-rushing chaos. It's a good thing we're all getting decent enough sleep.

Here he is

Little Henry, on his first day amongst us. He's now on Day Five and is being tested for liver function due to a bit of jaundice: all pretty normal apparently, but they won't let him go home until the results are in. So I'm sitting in Hoylake, where Livvy and I have been enjoying the hospitality of Roger and Diana whilst Tick and Henry are in the Liverpool Women's Hospital. As soon as we get the all-clear from the doctors, I shall be heading off to pick them up and we shall start home life together!

Tick has managed to wangle a private room for the past two days, which has made a big difference to her ability to relax and get some proper rest. Henry took to feeding almost immediately - actually in the recovery room after the operation! He's now already settling into a nice rhythm, which bodes well for the future!

As ever, what this space.

New Arrival

No time now for anything other than breathlessly brief update, but Henry Robert Clark, all 7lbs and 4oz of him, joined us in Clark Land yesterday morning at 10:40 am, following an entirely flawless produre. Mother (following magnificent performance) and baby (following a largely asleep performance) both fine and getting acquainted at the Liverpool Women's Hospital.

More (inc piccies, I promise) soon ...

Gearing up ...
A brief missive, snatched time during our preparations at work and at home for the arrival of baby number two. Just to let you all know we haven't gone into some form of pre-event lock-down, with no communications in or out and secret passwords at every door.

Naturally, the arrival, at 09:30 on Thursday (or so the NHS schedule would have us believe, anyway ... I'd keep watch all weekend, if I were you) is preoccupying the mind - or, at least, as much as it can do, given normal life also clamours for one's attention. Tick has of course finished work and has therefore been able to give the issue rather more focus than I, but this weekend does rather feel like the last few breathless moments before curtains up, lights on.

We have been shopping and sorting and retrieving and dusting down and cleaning and washing and pressing and piling and ordering and generally going through the logistical exercise that accompanies the arrival of all new children but which, through the passage of time, presents itself as a minor exercise from memory and then turns into something akin to Hannibal and his elephants when you're halfway through it.

But here we are. Most hatches battoned, most gear stowed away. All that remains is the central character of the piece. Well, that and another three days of work for me, which will doubtless be hectic. I finish at whatever time on Wednesday and then on Thursday, at 07:30, we must present ourselves at the Liverpool Women's Hospital. Keep your mobiles on that day!

ENDNOTE: For those of you looking for something new and engaging to read, Stephen Fry has launched a blog on his already excellent website. Long treatises (or "blessays" as he calls them, short for "blog essays"), the first two on Apple and then on Fame, which are, as with everything he does, studies in beautiful prose, engaging thought and quirky perspectives.

Family times

As many of you will know, Fiona is back in the UK for a while and we took the usual Clark weekend opportunity: birthdays galore, the traditional Aug/Sept family get-together.

Tick, Liv and I were joined in Lutterworth by Granny, Fiona, Tina, Gav, Marylin, Phil and Penny for a very jolly time. Livvy certainly enjoyed it, she can't have had more attention in so short a space of time in her entire life!



It was a traditional Clark bash. In other words, Mum made enough food for an army, Phil came in full uniform, Tina and Fiona talked at volumes that science tells us are physiologically impossible and Granny surveyed the growing brood with a practiced eye.

Tick and I had to head off mid-afternoon on Sunday, leaving Gav and Phil to fight to the death over the last piece of Brie. But not before Livvy had made full use of the surfeit of conveniently inflated matelas pneumatique that were in the Garden for reasons to dull to explain.

Birthday Bash

Although not officially 34 until Tuesday, we took the weekend as an ideal opportunity for a little get-together in honour of my impending birthday. Cocktails for the adults and, as you can see here, jelly for three very satisfied younger attendants.

It was the only time all three of them stayed still long enough to be photographed. Once the jelly had been consumed (a process that required a span of time so short we'd have to ask Steven Hawking to contextualise it), they were off again, a blur of motion. Good thing the cocktails were strong.

I invented the "Sort of Mule", which is basically a standard Mule (Vodka, Lime Juice, Ginger Beer) made fabulous and new, by the simple expedient of rootling around the back of the drinks cabinet (such as it is) and adding the first two things that came to hand. Which happened to be Apricot Brandy and Blackcurrant Liquer. The resulting concoction was pronounced splendid by all who tasted it. I claim the patent.

Moving times

Baby Number 2 is just 10 weeks away, which is about as close to a definition for "looming" as you can get. Our primary focus, of course, is the move: new digs are needed, at least by the time Number 2 is three or so months old.

We've been searching for properties since March and even found some we could both agree on, but for one or another reason, the search continues. In that time, we've seen some lovely places, as you can see below from the selection of pictures of places we've visited. In the meantime, our place is also on the market.



My favourite kitchen so far.


Gardens were a priority, but we are recognising that we may need to compromise.


Edwardian and Victorian town houses are the current focus.


Because they have lovely rooms such as this.

This last one we are going to see again this afternoon, so watch this space! One way or another, we will resolve this eventually: our own place has had four viewings in the three weeks it's been on the market, so that's encouraging. It's an odd experience, showing strangers around and trying to sell to them. And keeping it tidy is also a bit of a challenge, especially with Little Miss "No Daddy, my toys DO look better spread all over the sitting room floor" causing havoc around the place!

A quick update



A picture (or pictures) speaks a thousand words, and all that. Click to enlarge.

Making old connections

The Facebook phenomenon has penetrated even our cynical Webby household. Spent quite a bit of time catching up with old faces (hello Sarah, Lionel, Joel, Sam!). I spend most of my days peddling awful todge about t'Internet to clients, so it's nice to occasionally use it for something meaningful.

Mind you, I still want to slap people who spend all day updating their "wall" and poking people who sit four feet away from them in the same dreary office.



At least Facebook stops people forcing their boring myspace pages on you, anyway! :o)

This week, I have also mainly been creating Simpsons avatars. Here's me and the boys. I admit I've been rather unfair about Owen and Joel P. Not sure why I gave myself the white outfit, either. I look like a Trainee member of the Moonies.

Once more, with feeling

Good Lord, but how the time flies. If this were an old-world, offline diary, it would be much decorated with cobwebs and old bus tickets by now.

You've probably forgotten what we look like! So here's us on a recent holiday in Croatia. Please note that we haven't cloned Livvy, nor has she developed "Billy the Whizz" style speed capabilities - we passed her over the table in between photographs.



Since my last hasty post here, Ticki has of course found herself, once more, "in the family way", as they doubtless still say in Granny's Bridge club. Little Monkey Part Two is due on October 19th. This, of course, means we are now also looking at new houses, because our current flat is sadly not going to be able to accommodate the growing clan. So the second half of this year promises to be all-action on all fronts.

Good thing we had a nice holiday then. Three weeks in Croatia, to be precise. A lovely place. We rented a house near Porec on the northern Croat peninsula of Istria and spent our time between patio/poolside and lovely little covelets and beaches (all pebbles, rather than sand, unfortunately, so there was much undignified hobbling).



It was a relaxing time, which all three of us benefitted from: Livvy certainly seemed to appreciate having us both around for such a period of time. She's now an expert walker and climber-upper-of-things and is working on her vocabulary, which to date stretches to "Mummy", "Daddy", "Nanee" (Granny), "Doggy", "Nana" (Banana), "Book", "Dogut" (Yoghurt) and, inevitably, "Poo-poo".

It all seems a long time ago already, mind. Amazing what a couple of full weeks back in the office can do to that holiday glow. We've taken to organising our 2008 holidays already, which is surely significant of something.



Anyway, in keeping with the maxim "little, and often", I shall concludec this family update with a promise to return rather more quickly than I have done previously.

Happy Christmas, all ...

I was going to update this with our trip to Germany earlier this month first, where we visited Volkmar and Christa and did the whole Christmas, German-style thing. But you know how it is.

So anyway - happy Christmas to everyone!

This is the first one where Ticki and I aren't swapping presents with each other in the morning: naturally, Livvy was centre of attention. And she's taken to this whole Christmas thing like a duck to water. We weren't sure whether she would get the whole affair, but judging by her reaction to the stocking we presented her with she's going to be a natural.

We're preparing the Christmas brekkie now and then it's into the festivities for the day. The family are arriving later, with more due tomorrow. Best get back to it! I hope everyone has a lovely day and there'll be updates here over the next couple of days.

PS: If you want to be able to see videos I post here, you have to be registered with YouTube and I have to enter your email address into my contacts lists within YouTube. So if you want to see 'em, email me and I'll add your email address to the contact list.

And finally, the most recent installment, filmed just today. Peas. Fascinating things.

More of eating ...

As shown in a previous post, Livvy has spent most of the summer coming to terms with food that doesn't come straight out of Mummy. And, as this video shows, she's doing a great job of it!

Another in the series

Video Nation

May the Lord praise YouTube. Web 2.0, no less. This is a further experiment in posting videos online - keep watching this space!!



Beeeeeeeeeeyoooootiful.

Nos Vacances en France

Daddy-powered plastic swimming turtle extravaganza enjoyed by all

This is my first opportunity since re-entering the home/work orbit to update the world on our summer holidays. Tick, Livvy and I went for two eagerly anticipated weeks of relaxation in France during August, with a stop in Lutterworth at Mum's. We began the trip with a flight to Bordeaux, just three days after the security melt-down precipitated by the plot to blow all manner of things up between here and the US. Which all went surprisingly smoothly, with queues actually no worse than normal and delays conspicuous by their absence. Indeed, we were just taxiing up to the runway, just about to turn onto it or our accelleration to lift-off, when I remarked to Ticki how remarkable it had all been and how lucky we should consider ourselves.

Two hours later, when we finally took off for Bordeaux following an interlude in which we had had to stop the aircraft, get all the luggage out of the hold and individually ID each piece in the hunt for what, at the last moment, the control tower had told us was "unidentified, unscreened baggage" on our plane, the rashness of this presumption was all too clear. I particularly liked the way the captain subtly manouvered us to the remotest corner of Birmingham airport during this episode. Nonetheless, good spirits were maintained and we finally arrived at Bordeaux just some three hours late. From there, we picked up our hire car. As in Spain in May, electing to also hire a baby seat had seen us upgraded, unbidden, from "normal car" to "monster truck" category; car companies appear to believe, not unreasonably, that babies come with more luggage than Paris Hilton and Posh Spice on a serious shopping bender.


En famille

Our first week was to be spent in the company of the In-Laws - Hardie, Claudia, Isabella, Calumn and, a day later, Roger and Di. We had hired a Gite in the tiny village of Gaudonville, in the very charming Gers region of France, between Bordeaux and Toulouse. The area retains a slightly undiscovered feel and, due to its very rural composition, an empty and expansive quality. You can drive for miles down the winding country lanes and picturebook Elm-lined boulevards and encounter nothing more hectic, or alien to the region, than the odd farming type driving a battered Citroen van circa 1983 or bicycle of similar vintage.

The house in Gaudonville

The house is a converted stable, which has been done in the typically sympathetic style of many of these properties, with big kitchen, creaky upstairs bedrooms and brightly painted window shutters. For added delight, Muscat vines grew up and along the exterior walls, heavy with plump, sweet grapes, there for the picking of. These complemented the plums, figs, mulberries and apples growing in the adjacent orchard.


We spent a happy week in Gaudonville, exploring local market towns and vintneries, going to the bathing lake and enjoying langurous evening meals in the garden. It was a very relaxing week, which Livvy took to very well, enjoying the attention of the wider family.

France - bigger and wider than it looks

View from our balcony down the grounds and to the Med.

Following our week in Gaudonville, Tick, Livvy and I packed our belongings into the ÜberVan and headed off for the Cote d'Azur, to visit family friends Jean-Marie and Catherine at their lovely house on the coast between Marseilles and Toulon. Overlooking the Mediterranean and shrouded in Olive groves, Rosemary bushes and Peach trees, the house was completely different to that in my memories from our last visit there, some 15 years ago. Just goes to show - teenagers really don't pay attention to anything.

The highlight (apart from the amazing hospitality of our hosts) was the pool lower down the hillside from the house terrace, which was one of those horizon affairs that make you look like you're swimming off into the middle-distance and/or walking on water. Highly entertaining - to say nothing of refreshing on those hot, dusty Provencal evenings. Livvy, as you can see from the headline picture above, was very taken with it.

Getting to Bandol was quite an experience - turns out that France is quite a bit bigger than maps would have you believe. On and on we drove, endless miles of increasingly dry and sunny landscape rolling by - down through the lush vineyards of the Languedoc region, past the ancient battlements of Carcassonne, along the winding autoroute of the Provencal coast ... it went on for ever. Even Livvy, a heroically contented little traveller, got more than a little cheesed off with it by the time we finally passed Marseilles and could consider ourselves on the home stretch.

Still, all was well once we arrived, on the evening of my 33rd Birthday no less, and sat on the terrace having a lovely supper and a glass of the Domaine Rosé as the sun set on the purple sea.

Domaine Tempier

Did I say Domaine? Yes indeedy - Catherine and Jean-Marie own a vineyard, the Domaine Tempier, located on the slopes of the inland hills that rise to the ancient clifftop village of Les Castelet. Naturally, we needed to investigate - again, my last visit was so long ago that I had let the opportunity pass on that occasion.

Jean Marie was kind enough to give us the guided tour on this occasion, which Livvy enjoyed from the vantage point of her papouse, whilst Tick did some of the translating - Jean-Marie speaks no English and whilst I can understand a fair bit of French, the finer details of viniculture are not part of that bit. The tour, as all good tours of a vinyard should, ended in the Cave, with a drop of the product in a tasting glass. As you can see, the Clark fondness for all things grapey is developed from birth.


We spent an enjoyable hour amongst the vines of the vignoble, with Jean-Marie providing the expert and passionate commentary - the only problem is that Domain Tempier wines are not your average supermarket shelf plonk, so that taste I got in the picture above may be the last for a while!

All things winey, courtesy of our very own tour guide

Suitably refreshed, we were able to enjoy the rest of our holiday - including trips to St Tropez, up to Aix-en-Provence to see Suzannah and around the lovely countryside of the Provence. Each day was punctuated by Catherine's sublime meals, which quickly became a firm highlight - fresh fish, olive bread, tomato salad, peaches and ice cream ... it was Hell, I tell you!

Feeding frenzy
Livvy has taken to spoon and bowl with the same effortless enthusiasm as she had previously taken to Mummy's chest, with the result that feeding duties are now more equitably divided between Tick and I. The recent weather has allowed us to continue with the al fresco dining approach first mentioned in a previous entry too. Although a high chair is the more normal means of doing this, rather than the mossy tree trunk with which we began this latest phase of her life.

This "apple" of which you speak - it please me greatly!

Roly-poly

Once sated (an increasingly significant ambition), Livvy returns to her other preferred pasttime of the moment - rolling. Over and over (strictly in one, ultimately circular, direction) - stopping only for the occasional vexed squawk mid-roll when the momentum appears lost. It can surely not be long before sideways momentum is augmented with forward crawl power. A day both parents anticipate with a mixture of excitement and dread.


We have recently introduced a large toy giraffe to the proceedings (a gift from Auntie Tina), in the hope that this would act as a natural barrier to her rolling in the preferred direction and lead to her experimenting with the other direction ... but babies are deceptively strong. It's Olivia on a unanimous KO decision from all three judges after just three rounds - and the monopoly on rolling enjoyed by the clockwise direction continues.

Milestones ...

Babies, by virtue of their short but spectacularly significant time on this earth, rack up "events" faster than a Grateful Dead groupie. And most of them, again by virtue of the baby's general existence, are pretty definitive in nature. There's nice ones like "first smile" and "first giggle" and "first recognises own name" ... and then there's the less celebrated, like "first tooth" and "first experiment with taste of snot". The point being, that each of them is a bit of a point-of-no-return experience, with expectations set, markers laid and returns barred.

This week, Livvy, Ticki and I reached what may be the biggest of these markers along Childhood Way - the first proper meal. Well, when I say proper meal, I use the fact that it involved a spoon and a bowl, even if they were dayglo pink and purple respectively. The "food" in question did little to distinguish this as a meal - we'd been talking about "baby rice" for a while and perhaps it was my naivety, but I was expecting something akin to rice pudding. What we actually ended up feeding Livvy was more akin to wallpaper paste. But it's all good, I suppose. As long as we don't ever accidentally feed her actual wallpaper paste as a result of this apparently common misconception about the first meal a baby should be exposed to. Mind you, given the frequency with which I submit myself to the experience of wallpapering I think we can safely assume that the next time Livvy finds herself offered a spoonful of wallpaper paste she will be able to make the decision about whether or not to eat it herself - she will be about 23 years old by then, after all.

"Rice", you say? Not sure Mummy, but I like that pretty "spoon" thingy

And here it is - her first ever feed, documented blog-style. We actually played out this "event" sitting on a mossy log in a wooded glen near the pretty village of Bispham in Lancashire, where we had gone with Owen and Lucy (and Holly and Spike) for a walk. Don't tell Gina Ford, she'll haunt our dreams. Or something. So, Livvy's up and running with both eating off an implement and al fresco dining - who says rural Lancashire is not a part of the world given to sophistication?

All systems go

Another occasion with far-reaching consequences is the day (some two weeks ago now) when Livvy finally cracked the process of rolling over onto her stomach. This, it is commonly agreed, is the first step toward crawling, which, of course, itself signals a profound change in everyone's lives. Not necessarily Livvy's (although the range of things to put into her mouth will increase) but certainly her parents'. Rest will be a thing of the past once she's worked out forward propulsion.

Long overdue is still due ...

Well, it's been a while ... how times fly in the non-digital world beyond the humble blog. Work, life, World Cups and small babies have a habit of making even the most assiduous chronicler's intentions dissolve into the usual unfulfilled promises.

Livvy, meanwhile, has developed from the tiny scrap she was when last I wrote here into the archetypal "bouncing" baby girl. Her current breast-fed, pre-crawl form is a chubby, chuckly bulbous bubble of vitality and joie de vivre, as the Germans say.

And she fits very neatly into one of her toys, which is proper handy for going out shopping and the like.


Trick photography, I hasten to assure any passing Grannies, Social Workers or members of Her Majesty's Most Royal Constabulary.

Livvy and Tick took themselves off to the Lake District for a few days earlier this week, along with Lucy and Zoe and their respective sproglets. A fine (if decidedly warm and sticky) time was had by all, it appears, whilst the daddies of the piece remained at home, slaving over a hot dayjob.

It's a laugh a minute at the Lake Windermere Junior Xtreme Games Festival!!

Summer is reaching its peak, as measured by the exit of England's football team from a major international competition and Britain's tennis hopes from Wimbledon and Family Clark is gearing up for holidays, which this year will take us all to France, for a couple of weeks of wine and weather. Livvy's international travel portfolio was opened with a trip to Spain in May (extensively chronicled by her Aunties Fiona and, most memorably and prose-aliciously, Tina). So she's got the first stamp in her passport (Passports!! For babies!!! Talk about stealth taxation ...) and is well used to the dusty slog along the long and winding open road (and/or snoozing steadfastly in the comfort of an air-conditioned people carrier). For our second holiday of the year, we plan to spend a week with the Bates side of the family in a Gite somewhere near Bordeaux, before striking out on our own (in another of the aforementioned charabancs) to spend another week with old Clark family friends Catherine and Jean-Marie in their house up in the hills of the Cote d'Azur.

Which is at least something to sustain the spirits on yet another early-morning flight to Brussels ...