Snap: Ohne Worte

"My Mummy"

Looks like my daughter thinks I got about 45 arms. That's about right, isn't it?

Snap: New Home

Moving in less than 3 weeks, and Tara will have her own room.

Be Funky!

I'm loving this photo editing programme (thanks TJ!)!

www.befunky.com

"Actually..."

she said on her way back from nursery, "I can do my Kacks in my potty."

A sweet first. You gotta love it - and look: it's a heart shaped success that loves you right back!

PS.: Three weeks left in the shitty house. Potty-train now for all it's worth?

PPS.: Half an hour later she went up the stairs, calling: "Papa, I got a Kacks, I got a Kacks in'de Hose! I need a toilet!" ... This is funny, or isn't it? Or do only the silly parents think so? (Quote of the day on that subject: "Silly mummy *giggle*, you're naughty and horrible! *giggle*")

Coming & Going, Going & Coming

Tante Claudia came over for a week, officially done with her studies, officially unemployed, and with lots of official time for Tara. Ah, bliss, agrees Tara who declared on day one:
"Ich darf eine neue Mama haben...Tante Claudia!" (I may have a new mummy, aunty Claudia!) The week progressed much in the same vein, and what a lovely break from mothering it was!
With Tante Claudia, banana cake is twice as tasty (mainly cause it's got smarties on it), bathing is twice as fun, going on walks takes twice as long, and riding in the car is twice as entertaining. Plus, there are twice as many bedtime stories, five times more playing with 'playmomeel' (playmobil), and a ten times greater variety of toys brought out than with mum and dad alone. It's wonderful and great fun... and taking her back to the airport was a tearful affair, followed by nightly waking ("Wo ist meine Tante Claudia?") and questions days after still ("Meine Tante Claudia ist nicht mehr hier... Wo ist meine Tante Claudia?")

Taking Tante Claudia to the Airport. Traumatic.

Taking Tante Claudia to the airport was difficult as Tara kept insisting she would fly too, and crying when we told her it wasn't quite her turn yet. Eventually she agreed, "Ich fliege nicht. Bald bin ich dran." (I don't fly. It's my turn soon.)

Off into the sunset. A happy ending.

But it looks like Tante Claudia will be back soon. She made a silly promise. It went like this: When you find a house I can come and help you move. Silly.
Have we found a house? No. But we've been given notice by the landlady, which came as something as a surprise. Also the period she has granted us. Quote: "I understand that you will want to seek suitable alternative accommodation that meets your needs therefore I wanted to inform you as soon as possible. My desire is to take back possession of The Cloisters on the weekend of April 4th." Rephrase: 'Please vacate my property within 1 month and 3 days. I think this is plenty time for you to find a suitable alternative.'
Turns out this is even legal in this country. But enough has already been said about the English housing market; not by me necessarily, but certainly be the media. It stinks left, right, and centre. Of course, while it stinks this excruciatingly badly, we may just as well consider buying over the next half year... once we have moved into somewhere else first that is, of course.
Let's look at this house for example:

A viewing of sorts

Well, maybe a bit outside our budget. It's Darwin's house, and it was an interesting visit. It's huge, and he bought it when he had only 2 children, with one on the way (and another ten to follow, which he must have somehow calculated for even at that point). Plus, it cost 200,000 Pounds when he bought it, and 220,000 when the family sold it 50 years later. Housing prices moved at a reasonable pace then, I would say.

It's one thing wanting to move, and quite another being given notice. It's only well that we'd already been looking at houses for a few weeks, or else the shock would have been a lot greater. We'll accept it like Tara: "Mummy, when can I have my new house? I want a nice house now!" For starters, we've decided to stay local for now - I don't want to end up moving Tara to another nursery again. I can't exactly say that that's that great a though. Take a look at this picture. It's quite representative of Ramsgate city centre, look closely:

Ramsgate, left to right: Bad food chain, dead shop, bad cheap shop, dead shop, dead cafe.

On that joyful note, cut. Bye, bye house. Time to move on if not far.

And with that much 'going', I'm pleased that there has also been some truly joyful 'coming'.

Hiya Ben!

Congratulations to mum and dad, and big sister Lia!