Where's Tara?!

So where IS Tara?!

Tara must be wondering herself, to a degree. This strange place without a single squirrel (the neighbours claim there are loads, we've not seen a single one yet), absolutely NO children that play with her (yet, Tara, I promise!), the sky full of screeching birds, and Papa comes home every night, but is always gone in the morning (NOT GOOD!).
Mummy is a bit baffled by the whole deal too. The only people who phone are a bank that wish to speak to the owner (and keep ringing for her TWICE A DAY even after they've been told the 7th time that said person does not live here any more, I mean, really! Can I have their manager's job?!), and the only people that offer to speak to us on the street or in the city centre are old folk with dogs, which is kind of nice but a bit disturbing when they tell us, ah, yes, their second to last dog was called Tara, too... The good news is, a one hour walk about town, right next to the harbour, cures mummy and the chicken of a wretched cough.
So well well, we'll give it a chance. Here are some of our very first impressions of our new home Ramsgate (not Sandwich, but near):

This is what I get in return for my beloved Leicester market?!? One little walk through shop full of Dutch vegetables. I buy 4 potatoes, one banana, and six mushrooms and eight chestnuts per day. "Pound a boooowl"... na, not here.


A bleak wintery view of the centre. We'll get a better shot on another day, or perhaps with the Christmas lights on some evening soon?


A back alley. Suggests a merrier Ramsgate that the city centre at present. Note: People don't look at me, but they do look at each other. There is hope.

Ships. Or rather, boats, aplenty. Which reminds me, Tara loves playing Row Your Boat. Especially the bit with the crocodiles when you get to scream. Aaaaaaaah! No crocodiles here though.

Our first sighting of the sea. Actually only three minutes from home (yes, truly, THREE). If you make it to the bottom of that street, a high-up promenade gives you the full view of the ferry harbour, which is right there. Off to town and the boatsey harbour to your left, five minutes by foot. All very close by.

Ooopsy-daisy. Seeluft macht müde! A bit of a stiff breeze at the right time, and Tara folds forward, and has up to THREE hour long mid-day naps! Those do compare favourably to a meagre one hour naps at nursery!

I haven't looked very closely but it seems that Ramesgateners (Ramsgatees? Ramsgaters?) like a good choice of their dinners. I didn't look too closely intentionally - I'm still in mourning for my Revolution meals, and can't afford to upset my hungry heart. Palate.

Now here, our claim to fame! The home daddy chose NOT to rent. It is still empty, I've noticed, hehe. Maybe good old Vincent should have left behind some furniture and some white goods, not just letters from the sea side and some sketches!

And on the way home, we spot Van Gogh's skeleton too! Or maybe it's not quite his. Maybe Ramsgate is just a town very very full of old old people and their dogs?

Aah, here we are on our way home to the place daddy did chose to rent. Little cutie-pies of relatively new houses, and one of the end ones is OURS for now:

...a bit of a homely touch, and a house is a home! And yes, did I mention the THREE TELEVISIONS? I have? Oh, never mind, lets just mention them again.

So. There we are. Ramsgate, home.

There

is

Tara

(PS: Blue bedrooms, and we've very nearly found the living room too!)


MUMMY NOTICE BOARD:
@ Janet. By God, the POWER of baby bottom wipes! It IS very worrying, if you think about it, but also very useful. Is there a stain in this world that does not succumb to baby bottom wipes? Excellent stuff of gas oven cooking kitchen grime! And yes, the phone has indeed resurfaces. Though with a view to the absurd calls we get from Sainsbury's bank (whose call centre manager's job I want), it should have stayed in one of the boxes!
@ Ann. Oh, Waitrose, I'm singing their praises too! They too let me buy two bananas and one tomato, and oh yum, have you tried their strawberry scones? Worth every penny they cost!
@ Nirite. No no, we were home when you were trying to treat us to our first not-absurd call. We were just napping. For hours.
@ Julie. I cannot possibly eat those Hotel Chocolat chocolates! What will I do when they are gone?! FAR to precious. Maybe I can SMELL them all year long?!
@ all my (Leicester) friends with mobile phones: Thanks for keeping me virtual company on the way down (before the crying and puking started) and throughout the week. I mean, speaking to old men with dogs is somewhat satisfying too, but not quite the same.
@ M&K. I did not repeat the mistake of not introducing myself to the neighbours. And they are lovely and helpful, too! So! And now go and book your flights or a ferry!