Tag Archives: family

Trago Mills


I’ve been a busy girl today.

After a trip to a huuuuuuuge raft fair in Exeter last week I was inspired to buy a lampshade making kit. Hideously overpriced and with a rubbish range of fabrics to choose from I went ahead and bought it anyway because I had a cunning plan.

Today I put my plan into action and dug out the piece of fabric that I’d had in mind when I bought the kit.

Here is the end result of my very first foray into lampshade making. I’m quite pleased with it. I’ve already had two people wanting to buy it.

What do you think?

I made a lampshade!
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On a different subject entirely:

Some weeks ago (ok, before Christmas) Lashes told me that she wanted to go to Trago Mills.

You’ve probably never heard of Trago Mills unless you live in the south. It’s a positive cornucopia of anything you could possibly want to buy. It has a reputation for being a place to go to get things cheaply. The B&B owners all go there when it’s time for their start of season refurbishment programs as you can get everything from carpets, kitchens and bathrooms to clothes, craft supplies, food, clothes, even wet suits.

I’ve been telling Lashes for ages she needs to go but the more I told her the more she resisted.

“Lashes, you need to go to Trago. It looks like a castle with turrets and everything!! You can buy ANYTHING, they have a miniature steam railway and a petting zoo and a Japanese garden and, and, and.”

She would always say to me, “It’s only a bloody shop, you make it sound like a magical place. Petting zoo indeed. Castle? Pah! You’ll be telling me they have unicorns next.”

“Well, I’ve never seen a unicorn, not a real one anyway but they do have peacocks.”

“Oh really? she’d reply in a scathing voice as she looked up to heaven.

Anyway, one cold and wet December day we were out shopping in Newton Abbott which isn’t a million miles away from Trago Mills and she suddenly said. “Let’s go to Trago.”

Off we went.

As we pulled up outside and she saw the turrets she exclaimed, “Oh my God, it really does look like a castle.” I smirked.

We walked across the car park and her jaw dropped as the miniature steam train sat chuffing away gently at the miniature station, all decked out for Christmas and looking really quite, well, magical. My smirk broadened into a smile at her cry of surprise and delight.

As we walked past the lovely old fashioned flower stall outside the main building a couple of very beautiful peacocks strolled past us. At this point I was grinning broadly and feeling a little smug I just couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I said, “Oh look, peacocks. Fancy that.”

Her face was a picture. Every corner we went round she was met with another surprise. The little kiddies funfair, the lovely, massively underpriced cafe, the little, quirky shops, “Did I exaggerate then?” I asked her.
“Not at all. If anything you underplayed it” she said as she cooed and aahed at all the animals in the petting zoo. “I’m coming to spend a day here with the kids, it’s amazing” Ha! It’s not often Lashes is impressed. I’m impressed that she’s impressed.

I don’t think we got into the actual shop. By the time we had finished walking round all the attractions it was well past time to leave. Oh well, that means we’ll have to go back again. We might have to allow a bit more time. After all, we didn’t get to sample the warm, home made, lemon drizzle cake with lemon sauce and clotted cream. Worth a trip back just for that. It is a bit of a magical place, Trago, all it’s lacking is a unicorn or two. PS I don’t work for Trago haha.

In other news: Our choir has been learning a very beautiful song, ‘All of Me’ by John Legend. The harmonies in it are amazing, it makes me shiver when we sing it. Anyway, last night a few choir buddies came round for a little drinkie and a choir ‘practice’. Between us we had a couple of sopranos, an alto and a couple of basses so we reckoned we’d have a go at this. My God. Somehow, amid all the gin and wine, some of the lyrics changes a bit from, ‘Cards on the table we’re both showing hearts. To: ‘Cards on the table we’re both blowing farts.’ Now that has become an earworm and I’ve been singing it all bloody day. Make it stop!

Here is the original version for you to enjoy. Try not to sing the wrong words.

radiators and drains


It’s only six days into 2020 but you know what? It’ s already better than the whole of 2019 was. I think this year is going to be a good one.

Last weekend I got two really lovely compliments, totally unexpected and one was a bit of a sideways one but I’ll take it. You take your compliments where you can when you get to my age.

Let me tell you the story of last weekend.

On Saturday Lashes and I attended a choir workshop. We were singing songs from Les Miserables, one of our favourite shows, we can almost perform the whole show between us as we know it so well. It was advertised months ago and we have been counting down the days and practically wishing Christmas to be cancelled, we were looking forward to it so much. Anyway, Christmas came and went and the big day was upon us.

A couple of hundred people from all over the south west came to sing, it was very emotional and we had a thoroughly good time. Well, I did. Lashes defected from altos for the day to join the sopranos so we could sit together. That was a whole new singing experience for her. She’s used to singing the tune not embellishing the edges with stardust haha.

During the course of the day there was much chatting, giggling, new friendships were made, old ones renewed and everyone was united in their love of singing. The atmosphere was lovely. While I was chatting to one woman we know she asked about our plans for the future. “Well, if we ever sell Boofuls Towers Boofuls will retire but I’ll be looking for a job.”

“WHAT? A job? Work for me. I want you! I’ll wait. Choose your own hours.”

“I’ve never worked with kids before. Not disabled kids anyway. I am a qualified teacher though so I suppose I could muddle through.”

WHAAAAT?!? YOU’RE A TEACHER? Why didn’t I know this? I need you. Please, please come and work for me. You don’t need experience, you just need a big heart and yours is,” spreading her arms wide, “this big.”

Wow. It’s nice to be wanted. What a lovely compliment. I was quite emotional, especially since this woman is one I admire very much. Praise from her is praise indeed. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

The journey home from the workshop was a half hour or so drive. Lashes and I chatted, and listened to the recordings of the day that she’d made on her phone. Then conversation turned to a woman we know.

I commented to Lashes that I always felt drained after I’d been in her company. I found her very negative and needy and I tended to avoid her.

Lashes said, “That’s because she’s a drain. People are either radiators and make you feel warm and cosy or drains. She’s a drain. That’s why you feel drained around her, it’s because she drains you.”

Hhhmmm. I pondered this for a while. After such a rubbish year last year I wondered if I had become a drain.

“Am I a drain?”

“Drain? You? Are you kidding? You’re the biggest, stupidest, overfilled, fizzing out all over the place, bloody irritating radiator ever.”

Hahaaaa. I’ll take that. Thanks.

and so that was Christmas…


It rolls around every year and yet it still seems to take us all by surprise. One minute it’s months away and then before you know it, it’s here. Here in all it’s noisy, messy, colourful, chaotic  gloriousness.

I’m not going to lie, I really struggled to drum up a bit of Christmas spirit this year.  Its been a hard year for many a reason and personally I can’t wait to see the back of it. But you know what?  Me being a misery wasn’t going to make Christmas fun for anyone so I turned my frown upside down, with the help of a little bit of good news, cracked on.

First up was a trip ‘up country’ as they say round here to go and see the northern element of the family.  Boofuls, Douggie the doggie, Munki and I all set off on our road trip. A long journey becomes both a lot more fun but also a lot more stressful with an eleven year old in tow. Constant chatter and requests. She wanted to stop at every service station to see if they sold katsu chicken because she loves it.  Boofuls wasn’t so keen on the katsu but he did get a nice KFC. Funnily enough he had an overwhelming feeling that he was being watched while he ate it.

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The whole journey was a munchie and music fest. At one point Munki was sitting in the back of the car listening to classical music. Multiple renditions of Offenbach’s Galop Infernal got a bit wearing after a while to be honest.

Once we reached grey and rainy Lancashire we headed for our home for the next few days. A lovely cottage up on the moors.  All decked out with a Christmas tree and little treats here and there.  A bowl of sweets and lots of thoughtful little touches, it all started to feel a bit more festive.

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Then of course we went straight to see The Rev, Gembolina, Big N, Batty and Dangerous.

Isn’t it funny how you don’t realise quite how much you have missed someone until you see them again? It was very difficult to release them from my hugs.   I was a bit surprised to see that Munki is now taller than her cousins and indeed her aunty (yes, ok, and me).

Amid much chatter and laughter plans for an early Christmas the following day were made. Chinese take away and presents. A Christmas with a difference. The time flew by.

Over the next few days we caught up with friends and family before we set off back to Boofuls Towers.

Munki had been given a laptop for Xmas but no cover for it so I made this little bag for it on Christmas Eve. I quite like it.

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Christmas Day arrived for the second time!

Since Boofuls Lodging Emporium was closed to the public we divided the dining room to make it a bit cosier and had a glorious time. As mad as it is with small children around, Christmas is always better with them. Exhausting but better.

We played lots of silly party games all day. This turned out to be a cracking idea as it spread dinner out over a four hour period and kept the kids occupied.   I don’t know where those kids get their energy from, they just kept going!

Baby Dougal’s  first Christmas was so exciting for him. He tried his best to join in with everything.  Such a sweet natured child.  At half past midnight the kids  were still up and raring to go having been singing carols on the karaoke for ages.  Where did that time go?  Mind you. Im not sure they stayed awake for many minutes after they got to bed. I know I didn’t!

No sophisticated or grown up decorations for the table this year. It was snowmen and elves all the way. Fabulous!

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Douggie the doggie loves to open presents. At least this one was his. He’s not really fussy who’s gift he opens.

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Little git was just bemused by the whole thing.

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Since Lashes et al stayed over Boxing day was pretty much a repeat of Christmas Day except that we were all exhausted.  The weather was grey and stormy and I was wishing I hadn’t commited to doing the annual Boxing Day dip for charity this year. But commit I had so my ‘dip’ buddy and I set off to the beach with the hundred or other mad souls who’d also talked themselves into it.

God, it was cold!!!!

Of course, once you get in the water its ok. We pranced about a bit and made a little video for our sponsors as evidence that we’d done it.

It was all worth it as we raised a goodly amount of money for our choir’s chosen charity this year which is  Guide Dogs. We felt very virtuous on our way home to treat ourselves to a hot chocolate with brandy.

By lunchtime the excesses of the previous week were catching up. Lashes, Beardy guy and the kids went home and Boofuls and I settled down in peace, perfect peace to watch a fil…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Ok, we spent the afternoon asleep.

So there you are. That was our Christmas, how was yours?

Teeny tiny drag queens


This little catch up post is a veritable smorgasbord of snippets. Any one of them would make a full post on its own but I haven’t got the time or energy for that, it’s been busier than an eight lane motorway at rush hour. So, it’s snippets or nowt, I’m afraid.

Munki and I were taking Douggie the doggie for a walk the other day.  Out of the blue Munki suddenly said. Nanny, how many times a day do you walk the dog.?”  Me: “Three. At 7am, a long walk mid afternoon then about 8pm. Why do you ask?

“Why aren’t you dead, nanny?

“Excuse me?”

“You must be exhausted. All those breakfasts to cook, all those  rooms to clean and guests to look after and now you sew every night as well as all the other things you do. I don’t know how you do it all every day. I couldn’t do what you do. I don’t know why you aren’t dead with it all.”

Aw. Bless her. It’s nice to be noticed.

On Saturday while Douggie and I were on the beach during the mid afternoon walk I got a phone all from Lashes. “Mum, baby has a rash.” “Don’t worry, love. Kids get rashes.”

“It doesn’t go away when I press a glass on it, he’s just screamed for an hour and a half  and he’s really hot.

“Phone the doctor, right now.”

I start to rush home, Lashes phones me again. “Can you pick the kids up? There’s an ambulance on the way.”

Off I went to pick up the kids to find a paramedic outside the house. My God, that was quick. Baby was all hooked up to various machines and looking very pale and sorry for himself and with a rash that was developing before our eyes. “Right, I’m not messing about, I’m getting him in,” said the paramedic. Five minutes later up turned an ambulance. Lots of curtains twitched on Lashes quiet, uneventful road.

Poor little baby underwent two days of tests, prodding, examinations, ruminations and injections while they ruled out meningitis and an autoimmune disease called HSP.  The end result was a non-identifiable viral infection that his little body wasn’t able to fight and it mimicked meningitis with it’s symptoms. Pumped full of antibiotics he was discharged from hospital this morning, not with a clean bill of health but with a clean enough to go home bill of health.

While all this was going on and we looked after Munki and her two step brothers, Ben and Jerry as well as the dog, fleabagpeebag.

The sleeping arrangements were a bit of a challenge. Although we live in a stonking great house, our part of it is really quite small and all the letting rooms had been let. So, time to get organising. “Boys sleep downstairs, girls sleep upstairs.” That meant that the boys had to share a single Zed bed and Boofuls got the sofa. Munki and I shared a double bed upstairs.

I quickly discovered that Munki has limpet tendencies. “Oh my God! Back off, child, I can’t breathe!!”

“Nanny, I’m going to pretend I’m a sheep and then count myself till I go to sleep.”

“Good idea.”

“One…………I’m still awake”

Cue twenty minutes of giggling.

While all this was going one we played mine host to competitors in the International Irish dance Championships. Twenty four girls and mums rocked up with dress carriers, huge cases and even bigger cases for their make up.

If you’ve never played host to a house full of excitable and nervous preteenage and teenage girls you’ve never lived. The breakfast orders were bizarre, I felt like I was on Four in a Bed, they couldn’t have been more difficult and picky if they tried. Two girls were vegetarian for three days and then decided they were vegan on the last day. Never in the history of B&B-ing has so much food been wasted.

After breakfast they drifted off to get ready for their particular rounds. As we did the rooms we were transfixed by the metamorphosis of little girls into teeny, tiny, identikit drag queen lookalikes. Every one of them had stupidly long eyelashes, mahogany tans and curly wigs and of course the obligatory short dance dresses. It was hard to tell one from another. Bizarrely, or maybe not considering all the exercise they get, they all had legs like sparrows.

It wasn’t hard to tell which side of the bed the dancer slept in. Want to know how we could tell? Its like the Turin shroud.

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The bathrooms and towels looked like a crime scene:

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As if all this wasn’t fun enough. Boofuls, full of a cold that had gone straight onto his chest, got a call from the doctors surgery. “Would you like a flu and pneumonia jab?”  “No thank you, I’ve never had flu. Goodbye.”

I looked at him bemused. “Are you sure about this?”  He phoned them back. “I’ve changed my mind.” They got him in that very evening, obviously thinking that if they didn’t catch him quickly he’d run away.

They duly gave him the injections, one in each arm. Over the next couple of days he developed flu symptoms on top of his cold. “Noooooo, not now, Boofuls, we’re too busy.” Poor Boofuls, coughed, sneezed, snuffled, ached and wheezed his way through the whole, full on weekend.

Now that Baby is out of hospital, the grandchildren and dog have all gone to their respective homes, the guests have all gone. The house is so peaceful I did wonder for a while if I’d gone deaf.

Boofuls and I are taking a day or two to catch our breath and recover. It’s peace perfect peace.

Listen……nothing. Aaaaaahhhh.

Indulgence Fest


Ok, I’m a proud grandma. Indulge me a bit while I show off a few photos I took of baby Dougal, Lashes and Munki. It’s beena while siunce I did a photo shoot of any kind never mind one with a new born baby. What a lovely way to spend a couple of hours.

Just in case you are wondering, Beardy Guy was at work while this impromptu shoot was going on, it’s his turn for photos on his next day off. I have some great ideas. I miss photography.

Introducing the newest member of the family


Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for.

The one.

The only.

Our grandson.

The first boy born into the family for forty years.

BABY DOUGAL!

So tired but it was worth all the hard work. I’m proud to say that I was there to support Lashes and Beardy Guy all the way through. This was about five minutes after Dougal was born.

Beardy guy and Lashes welcome their son into the world.

A mother’s love

Munki looking after her little brother.

And just so he doesn’t feel left out – here’s a photo of baby Douggie the doggie.

New family

We’ll laugh about it in the future


We’ll laugh about it in the future. It’s all for the best. Something better is round the corner. The universe knows what it’s doing. Everything will be fine…

If I hear one more fucking platitude I swear to God I’ll scream and punch the person uttering it right in the tits.

You may or may not have noticed that I’ve been a bit quiet on the blogging front for a little while. If you have noticed well, thanks for noticing.

Now, my inclination is to go quiet when things go wrong and that’s exactly what I’ve been doing but then I reminded myself that I keep this blog as a diary and really enjoy reading my previous posts a few years down the line. Since I am pretty much my only reader, I might as well tell it like it is and then in a few years I’ll read it and laugh about it…shit..I have to scream now and punch myself in the tits.

So. What’s occurring? Brace yourself for a full on bitch fest and pity party.

Well, as you know we got sued. What a palaver that was. We won but at a cost to time wasted, stress and mental and physical health. The person who sued us wasn’t happy at losing and having their appalling behaviour caught on our cameras, so decided to appeal. They lost that too. They decided to have another go. It was swiftly dealt with by someone far further up the food chain than us. This person with the major bee in its bonnet is, in the words of an esteemed judge, totally unhinged. We do believe that it’s all over now but I’m not holding my breath. we are after all dealing with a person with huge issues.  A  year this little lot has been going on.

A year in which we decided that enough was enough, it was time to sell up Boofuls’ Lodging Emporium and retire. Sure enough after a few months, along came a buyer. Searches, reports, mortgage offers, more reports, certificates, you name it, it had to be produced. Retiring is so close we can touch it. The new owners came to visit, face timed their kids showing them all round the house, talked all about their new menus, what they are going to change. It’s all so exciting. Boofuls and I are packed, ready to move to our little house with stunning sea views. Lashes has moved out and now lives happily with beardy guy.

Two days later an email turns up. “We’ve changed our minds. We aren’t buying it.”

What the actual FUCK?!?  I’ll leave that there.

Next, Boofuls became more tired, more breathless and more grey than normal.  I suspected the start of emphysema, after all, if you smoke for the best part of fifty years there will eventually be a pay back at some point.  After much nagging he decided he would go to the GP.

The doctor did an ECG and told him to go straight to hospital, do not pass Go, do not collect £200. It turns out that his heart was beating at a ridiculous speed and was dancing to its own bizarre tune.

Once we got to the hospital they did another ECG and then took him straight into resus for six hours. It was terrifying. Almost a week in hospital and various tests and drugs, all of which failed to work, they eventually sent him home with instructions to do nothing and wait for an appointment to have his heart shocked into resuming a normal rhythm.

Can I just point out at this point that it’s June?  June. The month when hoteliers traditionally get really busy for the  summer season. There we are, one man down. Poor old Boofuls can only watch while we run around like headless chickens trying to keep everyone happy.

One the subject of June, can I also say WHAT A BLOODY STUPID TIME FOR A HOTELIER TO HAVE A BABY! Lashes is due to give birth to baby Dougal any day now. That’d be us two men down. Or to put it another way, I’m now doing the work of three people.

Pregnancy has not been kind to Lashes. She has developed gestational diabetes. What sort of a stupid condition is that? Become horribly diabetic to the point of having to test her blood sugar several times a day and inject insulin four times a day and then the second she gives birth it’s all over and she is no longer diabetic.

How mad is that?

So. There we are. Are you laughing yet? No. Me neither.

Hearts, flowers and surgical stockings


When couples first get married and have that “no-one has ever been as much in love as we are’ smugness about them, it’s all about hearts and flowers, bedroom gymnastics, and romantic gestures.

God, I used to see it all the time when I was a wedding photographer. “There’ll never be another wedding like ours”, couples would coo as they glanced smugly at each other. It used to take all I had not to say, “Well actually, love, they’re all much of a muchness.” I always thought it would be too cruel to burst their bubble though so I’d just smile sweetly and agree that they were indeed unique. Often at the same time as wondering if they’d still be together when the ink had dried on their marriage certificate. What? Cynical? Me?

I remember it well. Vowing that we’d get old together and taking all that that brings with it but not being able to imagine it. Ah yes. Fast forward thirty three years. When it isn’t so much bedroom gymnastics as a low impact workout while trying to avoid straining the bits that ache, cramp or just don’t move in that direction any more. Flowers are saved for special occasions, a romantic gesture is giving up the tv remote control and love settles into a comfortable companionship.

When I first got married I had no concept of how marriage would change as the years went on. Some days it’s considered a success to have got through the day and not bludgeoned each other to death. Other days we are completely content when we snuggle up on the sofa and watch a bit of telly together, happy just to be.

What am I wittering on about?

Well, dear reader, let me tell you.

Boofuls had his long awaited hip replacement surgery a little over three weeks ago.

His embarrassment at me having to help him to wash. “I’m your wife”, I told him. “This stuff goes with the job description.”  Helping him into and out of the shower while holding a plastic bag over his stitches and using a hand towel like a windscreen wiper to keep any stray drops of water from seeping through. Cutting his toenails, helping him to get dressed and the truest test of love.

Back in the day when I was on my knees in front of him it wasn’t to put his surgical stockings back on.  My God, has there ever been a more difficult task than putting on and taking off surgical stockings? How times have changed.

Aside of the personal hygiene stuff. How did I not know that he has six million cups of tea every day? It wasn’t till I had to make them all that I realised. How is it even possible to imbibe that much liquid?

His frustration at not being able to perform everyday tasks and my poor nursing skills have meant that tempers may have frayed a bit recently. We have both bitten our tongues until they are black and blue but we muddle through.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that it isn’t the grand gestures that make for a happy marriage.  Anyone who tells me they have never had a cross word in their marriage is either telling lies or one of the partners has been severely compromising to keep the peace. I think what it boils down to is still being able to love each other when the romance is in short supply and the reality of advancing years and ill health become part of your everyday life.

Mind you, the occasional grand gesture never goes amiss.

Sing it loud, sing it long!


We had a few of the choir round for a ‘practice’ last night.

You know me well enough now that when I say practice you know I mean drunken singing.

The plan, as we had a quitetish weekend at Boofuls Towers Lodging Emporium was to have a bbq with a few choir friends. Of course the weather didn’t play ball so we ended up inside. Quite fortuitous really as rather than have the bbq we planned we managed to use up the box of Indian buffet items that have been logging up the freezer for months. Everyone brought a few snacks and we quite the international buffet going on with bhajis, pakoras, nachos, sausages, pizza and various other items.

It’s amazing really, guests never, ever come into the bar during the day. Ever.

Yesterday of course was different.  The German couple who had just arrived decided to come down for a mid afternoon drink. They walked into the bar and instantly worked out that there was a private party going on. Their faces were a picture but it was too late to back out, they were there. We tried to make them feel welcome but it was a bit difficult as they spoke very little English. Try explaining the English delicacy of mushy peas to a person who hardly speaks English. They practically necked their drinks in one and cleared off.  I did feel sorry for them but I was glad when they left.

Equilibrium, banter and hilarity were restored until, bugger me, the guests from room 1 decided to come into the bar! WHAT?  How do these people know we are having some down time? They must have a bloody alert implanted in them, you know, the one that goes off when we are about to eat our evening meal, go out, go to the loo or have some time with friends. The one that makes guests instantly become demanding and needy of our company? You couldn’t make it up, it works like magic. Every. Single. Time.

At least the second lot spoke the language and even decided to have a go on the karaoke, they were good fun but they too cleared off after one drink.

Anyway, the afternoon turned into evening and then late into the night. The singing became more raucous as the day wore on. What a hoot.

Some of our hotelier friends are envious of the fact that we have friends who aren’t hoteliers. Personally, I think that is vital. Can you imagine what it would be like if all we ever had to talk about was occupancy rates compared to last year, gossip about other hoteliers or the merits of various laundries? My eyes are glazing over at the thought of it.

As I’m typing this it has reminded me that recently someone has commented to me that I tend to compartmentalise various sections of my life. I keep personal, hotelier, choir and other sections of my life as separate as possible and really don’t like them to cross over if I can avoid it.

It’s not a new thing, I have always kept various sections of my life separate. Difficult to do when you work from home and harder still ow we own a B&B but I try my best. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? What are your thoughts on the subject?

The kid’s way too clever


“Nanny! Nanny! Come here a minute, I want to tell you something.”

I popped my head into Munki’s bedroom with a sigh thinking it was more bedtime procrastinating.

“Yes, what is it? Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I’m doing an experiment but it’s a secret, I can’t tell you what it is yet.”

That was how we left it, I didn’t push for details and she didn’t offer any. In fact, rather than try and keep me talking as she normally does, she hopped straight into bed.

Fast forward to first thing this morning when she greeted me with a big smile telling me that her experiment was now complete.

“Did it work?”

“No Nanny.”

“Oh, ok. You look very happy about it. Can you tell me what it was now?”

“Yes. My tooth finally fell out yesterday and I wanted to find out if the tooth fairy was real or if you grown-ups just made it up so I decided not to tell any grown-ups about it to see if the tooth fairy still came. She didn’t. I proved she’s not real, didn’t I?”

Dammit! The child is too clever. What to reply?

After a moment’s deliberation, I decided that the game was up and trying to brazen it out was probably not the way to go, she’d proved her point.

“Ok you clever little Munki the tooth fairy is nanny shaped and here is a pound for you.”

Her little eyes lit up as she eagerly accepted my gift. “Thanks, Nanny!”

She’s so clever to have worked out a plan and carried it out as she did and I’m really proud of her…and just a little sad that that little piece of childhood magic has ended for her.

Why do they grow up so fast?