Sand on'ne Beach, or, Sandy Thanet

Looks like a bunch of beach to you? So it is. We're surrounded by beach, and Tara loves it. Between her toes, under her bum, and especially over her feet. She loves it in Ramsgate, in Margate, or in Botany Bay; on a regular day or a festival, with or without ice cream, with or without picnick, and with or without friends. All she really needs is a shovel, although she loves her sandy beaches best with friends, picnick, shovel and ice cream too. Me too. That's the combo on which I get to lie back, enjoy what sunshine remains of the summer, and read a mag. Beaches are bliss.

BROADSTAIRS, VIKING BAY

Earlier this month, when the weather was still officially (as opposed to wonderfully and accidentally) sunny, and Onkel Andi-to-us was around. Tara begged to be allowed on the beach, and then Tara begged for help burying her feet. Can you see her asking, "Please, kind sir uncle, bury my feet some more?" Actually, her English is not quite that advanced, but I'm sure you can still see her begging, "Mehr! Mehr! Mehr!" (morex3)

"Mehr? Meehr! Meeehr?"

She did get some help (see big handprints at front of Mount Foot), but she also did a pretty good job herself, and only had enough when a kilo of sand had accumulated inside her clothes, and ice cream was offered as a bribe...


Here it is, in all it's glory, a proper English summer beach, complete with (under-used, due to pap weather all around) swings, merry-go-round, and trampoline-frames (right front). All closed. Early September is end of season, innit. Donkeys gone home, too.



MARGATE MAIN SANDS, INTERNATIONAL KITE FESTIVAL


A festival! Oh aren't we glad we came down! This is de-light-ful! Look at all the kites in the air! Regular, 3D ones, monster-ginormous ones, extraordinary ones, and most of all we love the panda! Look at our delicious picnick... ah, can't see that, we ate it up before I took my camera off the kites. Never mind. Now, Tara? She has to be forced a little to get her to admire the kites. She's spotted the mini-"demmi-demmi" (Remmi-Demmi, i.e. amusements) at the back of the beach, in particular the swings, and is dying to go. We trudge off with a little pocket money from dad and blow it all on the rides. Tara bravely sits through three trips on Thomas Tank (see pic on main link), then blows her last Penny on the scary ride that doesn't only go in circles but also up and down a mini-mount. "Mami, finished!" she tells me once she's gone round twice, but has to sit it out for another two minutes. Brave girl. And the swings? Too big for my small girl, and we're out of pocket money too.

We lurve Mr. Panda

Aaaaaww, kites!

Ice cream, on this occasion? A treat, not a bribe.



RAMSGATE MAIN SANDS


The beach at our doorstep. Not the most attractive looking of the lot, so I'm giving you a picture of the adjacent harbour instead.
We come down right after nursery, sometimes, tired Tara complete with left over lunch in much loved, smoothie containing lunch box, and a shovel if Mum remembered to bring one. Tara loves this beach too. She's not a discriminator of beaches. I am. I judge them by aesthetic surroundings, and this one fails us badly. You can't actually see the harbour when you're playing. My favourite is Botany Bay, where you can't see anything other than beach, sea, cliffs, people and ships in the distance. That one rocks my boat, so...


(You never truly like what you got, don't you. Beaches, straight/curly hair, all the same...)


BOTANY BAY, THE FAMILY FAVOURITE


We sat here the other day, and I was thinking, 'Not bad, not bad at all. Not quite Leicester and New Walk, but actually, not bad at all. Actually, good!' There we go: My first truly positive Thanet moment, ten (10!) months after the move. It's been a while, but this beach in peach.


So of course we bring a friend. And a picnick. And a mag. And then we trust the men to look after the child. And don't they all look delighted? Me too. Behind the camera, munching on a brownie, reading some randomly interesting articles about random health and fitness things directly opposed to munching on brownies, and chilling happily in the late summer sun. As fate had it, just half a week before a cold autumn chill descended and ended the season, for all that we know.
*Sigh*

Sand in'ne Garden

It took a considerable amount of ice cream, sand, and discussion about the amount of 'flamango' (aka mango) permissible an hour before dinner to get Tara to play outside without me. But I finally made it into the kitchen to start dinner, only to look out and... think clothes on line, think mess underneath... be reminded of a much earlier scene... click: FLASHBACK!
Two years and three months ago.

PS.: NOT A HINT / KEINE ANDEUTUNG / NO ES UNA PISTA

Snap: Helping hand

Or, helping head and hands and torso... Good daughter!

"Baby am Bauch"

Ich nicht. Aber Tara.
Sag ich zu ihr beim Baden: "Ach, du süßer kleiner Dickbauch!"
Tara guckt pikiert: "Nein, kein dick. Tara eine Baby im Bauch."
Ich: "Was!!"
Tara: "Ja. Schoooon wieder!"
Stimmt. Tara hat immer mal gern ein Baby "am" Bauch. "Tara eine Baby am Bauch wie de Marc wie de Kerstin." Sprichts und klopft sich liebevoll auf den kleinen Dickbauch.
"Das ist aber schön," sage ich ihr dann. "Aber wir müssen noch lange warten, bis das Baby rauskommt, richtig?"
"Ja, waaaten," stimmt mir Tara zu.
"Genau," sage ich. "Noch mindestend so um die 25 Jahre."

Außer 2 Jahre alt und schwanger, betätigt sich Tara auch professionell in einem ganz spezifischen Gewerbe. Als Tänzerin, wenn sie Musik hört, besonders gerne aber Mittwoch früh.
"Tara auch eine pole dancer!" deklariert sie und setzt sich auf die oberste Treppenstufe.
Dienstags abends gehe ich zum pole dance. Offensichtlich.
"Nein Tara, wenn man pole dancer ist, muss man aber auch tanzen, nicht sitzen," erkläre ich, und wir gehen die Treppe runter und wackeln ein bischen mit dem Popo, bevor der Tag anfangen kann.
(Ich überlege immer noch, wie ich ein "Stripperstange" im Haus unterbringen kann *seufz*, und die blauen Flecken sind auch schon nicht mehr so schlimm...)

Meine Tocher, ganz klar. Erziehung auf dem richtigen Weg für die kleine Frau Vidal von Rönn!
Auch wenn ein Teil der Erziehung wieder in den professionellen Händen des Kindergartens liegt. Dafür ist ihr Englisch wieder auf dem Vormarsch, nach eine Sommerruhepause. Ich höre sie im Kindergarten krakelen "Sally, tidy up time" "five minutes!" "See you tomorrow, Maddie", und wenn ich beim Abholen um die Ecke spähe, sehe ich sie im Kreis der Kinder stehen, laut Lieder singend ("Old Macdonald had a farm EEAyeeay-ooo"). Zu Hause spricht sie vor sich hin "My name is Tara... my name is Ben... My name is Tina...). Kigatante Tina erzählt, wie sie im Garten alle Kinder klar beim Namen ruft und vor Bären warnt "Maddie, run! It's the bear!", und generell findet Tina, dass Taras Englisch (trotz Sommerpause) genau so weit entwickelt ist wie das der anderen Kinder in ihrem Alter, und dass sie ganz besonders schlau ist. Finde ich ja auch. Ach! Meine Tochter, meine talentierte Tochter!

Und hier ein Foto, weil's schön ist, auch wenn man darauf das Baby im Bauch oder den Popotanz nicht sehen kann. Aber so in der Küche, mit der Hand in den (Bio-Baby-no-junk) Chips? Auch ganz die Mama!

Onkel Andi To You

Uncle Andi is a pretty cool dude. He's young, he rides bikes (ex-ci-ting, says Tara) from Hannover to Wunstorf and back (a feat, and well fit, says Mummy), he plays the guitar (self-taught, we might add), and currently he's inter-railing Europe, and has fit in a visit to Thanet, somewhere in between Portugal and Sweden. Tara is delighted. She calls out to "ONKEL ANDI" so often in the first 24 hours that it takes on a musical quality that must remind her of, well, her favourite tune, for before Onkel Andi has completed his first day in Ramsgate, she is officially singing out loud: "Onkel Andi to youuuu, Onkel Andi to youuuuu...." At this point we have to help her out a little. The compexities of musical lyrics, you see... "Onkel Andi, liebe Taaaraaaa...."
Chorus, all: "Onkel Andiii toooo youuuuuuu."
(Yes, really. She did sing that.)

Tara takes a lesson. Pling pling.

Advanced and inspired

Applause for the master!

I have to say, having a lovely tune played for bedtime has undeniable charms, although I'm quite sure my singing has improved greatly over the last 2 years, if only noticeably so on the three songs I mix and match at bedtime. Happy Birthday to You is not one of them, much as Tara would like that.

Snap: Hello from sunny Canterbury

Hello Alex! What? You have a job interview at Canterbury College tomorrow? Well good luck with that! (You know, if it's meant to be...)

Hello Tara... Oi! Oh well, bye then, off you go...