Butlins, Bognor, bumper cars and that cousin-thing

It's the half term break here and our house has been full of cousins, ranging in age from 5 to 16 and in personalities from divas to Incredible Teenage Hulks.
But the amazing thing about cousins is that whatever the age difference, there is always the feeling that they are " no-strings attached," bonded, that however good or bad or happy or sad they are, their moods will always be forgiven and forgotten because they are cousin and that's what cousins do.
There's always been something special about that " cousin-thing," - even Shakespeare knew that. 
And over the years, Mia and Joss have shared lots of adventures with their cousins: camping holidays, climbing small mountains, a Christmas spent in a huge slightly dilapidated watermill in France, a holiday in Sri Lanka, birthday parties in halls, on farms, in cinemas and of course, the Greenman Festival. 

Cousins hippying it up at the Greenman Festival

Cousins hanging out in our living room

Unlike siblings, you don't see your cousins every day. Which immediately makes them  better company than any brother or sister.
The normal bickering and rivalry seems to disappear and instead they become a bonded gang, taking on the world.

But even a gaggle of cousins is hard to entertain when storms and rain are forecast and there is no chance to let off steam in a park.  
Which is probably why Joss uttered those dreaded words last Sunday evening:
" We could go to Butlins tomorrow."
To which all the cousins, whatever their age, responded:
"Yes, yeS, YES."
"What is Butlins?" asked Neela, the youngest cousin, when she had finished celebrating.

Butlins holiday park in Bognor Regis is just down the road from us.
 It's a complete 24 hour sensory overload for all the family. 
With fairground rides, a Noddy train, a floor to ceiling indoor soft play area, shows, go-karts and a swimming pool with a wave machine and watery rides, there is something for everyone.
Even cousins.
 When the kids were little my friends and I would take our toddlers and over-excited pre-schoolers to Butlins quite often.  We would scan the local papers for money off vouchers and when we found them, a few of us frazzled mums would spend whole days there. 
We would watch the kids racing up and down the soft play area, enjoying the shows, riding the Noddy train, spinning in the Alice in Wonderland teacups and playing hide-and-seek in the wooden fort outside and enjoying the free shows. 

Fireman Sam at Butlins, Bognor

When the kids are that little, Butlins is like a gift.
It  gave us time for whole minutes of time for adult conversation without the constant demands that come with the first few years of parenthood. 
But as we walked through the automatic doors this time, the decade older me was hit not by a sense of freedom but by the noise and flashing lights and shouting children.
" Do families really come here for whole weeks?" asked my alternative-energy loving brother, turning pale as a trail of 6 year olds ran past him, heading for the slot machines.
" Can we have some money?" asked my 8 year old nephew.
" Can we go on the trampoline?" asked my 10 year old nephew.
" When is the swimming pool open?" asked my 13 year old nephew.
" There's Fireman Sam," said my 5 year old niece.
" Can we buy a cup of coffee?" asked Mia.
And while a glass of brandy might have been better for numbing the senses, coffee and a bag of warm, donuts won the day.
And sugared up, the cousins took Butlins by storm. 
Dodgems:

2p slot machines:

And best of all, hours of fun in the swimming pool:

"You are so lucky Mia and Joss," said Ollie their 8 year old cousin, when we finally left the Butlins bubble.
"Why?" asked Joss.
" Because you live so close," said Ollie, stroking the tasteful soft-toy dog he had won, "You can come to Butlins whenever you want."
I caught my sister-in-law's eye.
" We're very lucky Ollie," I sighed.
But he was already gone, caught up in some cousin race to the car.
And the truth is Ma and Joss are lucky. Not because we live close to Butlins but because of that "cousin-thing." And it doesn't matter if they are in a holiday park, at a festival or just hanging out in our living room, they will always have each other.

Life with a twist of homegrown lime and stolen oranges

There's nothing like relaxing in front of the football with a bottle of beer... if you like football and beer that is.  
And I don't particularly, well not beer.
Generally I'm more of a wine or cocktail or "anything but beer," sort of person.
But last week was different.
Last week I couldn't wait to hear the gentle hiss of a bottle of Corona being opened.
Not because Corona reminds me of Summer ( although it does ) or because I like the taste ( although as beers go, it's my favourite ).
The reason I was so excited was the slice of lime that goes with it.
Because the lime I was slicing, wasn't just any old lime.
A moment before I squeezed it into the neck of the bottle, I had plucked it from our very own  lime tree. 

Study of a lime in front of a chair

It was the very first lime that  had ever grown in our not very exotic South East England garden ( now over-wintering in our not very tidy South East England house ).
And Corona has never tasted so good- the green, tangy lime, the cool, golden  beer.... but mostly just the green, tangy lime.
We had friends over so I forced each of them to inhale its fresh, fruity scent.
" Amazing," they agreed, turning briefly away from the football ( England v Poland ),
 " smells just like a real one. What's the score?"
I tried explaining that it was much more " real," than any old shop bought lime.
But England had just scored a goal. 
So I turned back to the kitchen, opened another bottle of Corona, sliced gently through the deep green, waxy skin and squeezed another piece of lime into the bottle.

In truth, I don't just have a lime tree.  I have a lemon tree and an orange tree as well. But so far, the limes are my only success. 
Every day I check and there are tiny oranges and lemons growing on the other two trees, but somehow they never quite make it beyond the " very tiny," stage before withering and falling off. 
But I won't give up.
Growing things takes time and skill and experience. 
Just like people, you have to get to know the likes and dislikes of the plants you are tending.
And I am a patient gardener!
Ever since we lived in California, I have dreamed of bringing the scent of orange blossom to our garden. 
When I first brought the plants home, the little orange tree was in full bloom. Its  blossom iridescently white against the orange bricks of our house, its deep, sweet scent drifting through the open back door into every room.
" How come it smells like Thailand?" asked Joss, so impressed that he even made it out of his bedroom.
He had the scent confused with the smell of Jasmine that filled the air when we were on holiday in Thailand.
But that is the thing about scents and smells, they immediately evoke a memory.
When we lived in California, we had an old convertible Mustang.  
Every day I would put the top down and drive to work through miles of orange groves.
In spring, the fierce, sweet scent of orange blossom filled the warm air, intoxicating and beautiful.
A scent that lingered with me throughout the long day- which was lucky considering the number of nappies I had to change.
Perhaps, if I work at it, it is a scent that will fill the memories of Mia and Joss, reminding them  of teenage evenings spent sitting in the garden, instead of in front of the TV.
At least I can dream!
And for this year , I will content myself with the scent of orange blossom in the Spring and tangy limes in my beer at the end of the Summer.
Perhaps next year all my loving labour will bear more fruit!

When I was young and romantic, my pockets were always full of mouldy oranges because of this poem.
And even though today my pockets are mostly orange-free, there are days when I long to reach out for an orange and inhale.

THE STOLEN ORANGE 

When I went out I stole an orange
I kept it in my pocket
It felt like a warm planet

Everywhere I went smelt of oranges
Whenever I got into an awkward situation
I`d take the orange out and smell it

And immediately on even dead branches i saw
The lovely and fierce orange blossom
That smells so much of joy

When I went out I stole an orange
It was a safeguard against imagining
there was nothing bright or special in the world

Brian Patten

Soggy devotion

Last weekend I spent a lot of time standing on the sidelines. watching my nephew playing rugby and my son playing football.
 A lot of the time it was raining so hard that the players could barely see the ball or hear our cheers and groans.
But even though they couldn't always hear us and even though our devotion was rain-drenched, my son and my nephew knew we were there. 
And sometimes knowing that someone is there, rooting for you, whatever the weather is almost ( though not quite )as important as winning.
The under 9s rugby tournament on Saturday was in a beautiful,  Hogwarts-like boarding school just outside Bristol. The perfectly mowed rugby pitches were in the middle of rolling green fields surrounded by age old woods.

All Hallows, Somerset

The view from the rugby pitch

The under 15s football match on Sunday was at Durrington Recreation Ground, near Brighton, its mud-worn pitch  bordered by roads and housing estates.
But in the end it doesn't matter how rich or poor you are.
It doesn't matter how perfectly mowed or unevenly muddy the pitch is . 
It doesn't matter if the sun is shining or the rain beating down ( except for the dirt and mud factor ).
What matters is that, when you turn to look, there is someone there cheering you on from the sidelines, Someone who cares enough to give up their time just for you. 
The emptiness in the eyes of the kids who have no one there is the same, whatever their background.
Sadness is a great equaliser.
And giving your time as a parent or an adult, is one of the hardest things to do. 
There is always something else you should be doing.
Why does sacrificing something you would rather be doing to do something your would rather not, make any sense?
If no one ever did it for you, why would you do it for anyone else?
When the rain was beating down and we were soaked to the skin and the players were covered in mud and it wasn't even half- time yet, I found myself dreaming of hot baths, warm, steamy kitchens or any form of shelter with a roof.
But in my heart, I knew that  I was in the right place. 
I knew how proud my nephew was that  his " grown-up," cousins were watching him 
( I don't think his old aunt was quite such a coup !).
I saw how often Joss glanced to check I was watching.
Sometimes it's only when you actually give your time, that you realise you haven't actually given up anything.
And I hope that if, one day, Joss or my little nephew have children of their own, they will be standing, watching willingly from the sidelines, however soggy their devotion.

Jimmy Carr, racism and the rudeness factor

With hindsight, I'm not sure that taking our teenage children to see Jimmy Carr was the wisest thing to do. 
Perhaps, if we had thought it through, we might have waited until they were old enough to see him by themselves.
Perhaps we should have been more willing to bide by the age guidance.
 But we bought the tickets on a whim without much thinking through or checking for the adult nature of the content. 
And anyway, it's been a long time since we have so successfully surprised our kids.
They are too canny these days, always sneakily working out what it is we plan to do.  
" Just give us a clue.." said Joss when we told them.
" Will we like it?" asked Mia suspiciously.
Ninesh and I said nothing.
Even as we started walking into town on the night, Ninesh and I gave nothing away.
" We're going to the theatre aren't we?' said Joss as we got closer and started checking  his phone to see what was on..
" Maybe," said Ninesh.
" It is the theatre isn't it," said Mia gloomily as we got closer 
" You're right," I sighed, " you've guessed.  We're going to see A MIdsummer Night's Dream.
" What," howled Mia and Joss in unison. " You said it was a surprise."
" It is a surprise," I said.
" Not a nice one," said Joss.
I smiled. 
 " It's a really good production. It's had amazing reviews."
This Summer, Chichester Festival Theatre has constructed a huge space-age tent in the park.  At night it looks magical, illuminated and surrounded by trees and fairy lights. 

But Mia and Joss weren't feeling very magical.
" We could have been watching telly,"  moaned Joss.
" We could have been doing anything," said Mia, " everything else would be better than this."
" Anyone with tickets for Jimmy Carr- this way," shouted out one of the black clad ushers.
Mia and Joss stopped and turned to look at us.
" Is that where we're going," asked Joss, trying to hide a grin.
" Really," said Mia " to see Jimmy Carr? That's so cool. Thank you guys."
But as we walked up the path they both suddenly stopped and turned to us worriedly.
" Do we have to sit together?" asked Joss
" He means, do Joss and I have to sit next to you two?" explained Mia, " that will be so cringey."
To their relief, we didn't have to sit together.  We had booked 2 seats in one row and 2 in another.  And as Jimmy Carr came on stage and started his stand-up, I have to say,  I was relieved not to be sitting next to them.  
Some things are just too embarrassing to watch with your children!
Because he was very rude.
Very funny but very rude.  
When he wasn't talking openly about sex, he was alluding to it. 
And if he wasn't talking about sex, he was swearing.
And if he wasn't swearing, he was talking about sex.
But he's very clever.
I've never been a particular Jimmy Carr fan. His high pitched laugh hurts my ears!
But  standing up on stage all by yourself trying to make people laugh must be one of the scariest and hardest jobs in the world.
And Jimmy Carr managed it.
A lot of his act is based on responses to heckles.
But since,in  Chichester, we are too polite to heckle, Jimmy asked us direct questions instead.
" What's the worst present you have ever been given?" ( "Tickets to this show." best answer).
" What's the weirdest sexual act you have ever been asked to perform?" ( best answer too rude for this blog! )
" Has anyone ever walked in on a couple having sex?
Embarrassed titters from the audience and the odd admission that yes, they had walked in on their parents, their friends and then one woman who said she had walked in on her son.
" On your son having sex," repeated Jimmy Carr, "what happened?"
" Well," said the mum," she was Asian." 
 And for just a moment Jimmy Carr was speechless. 
All he could do was repeat what she had said.

" She was Asian. She was Asian. 
What happened? She was Asian. 
What the F......has that got to do with anything."

And that's the moment I started liking Jimmy Carr.
Because he was so genuinely shocked by the racism inherent in that answer, that for a moment he seemed to lose his stage persona.
For a moment it felt as though we were seeing the real him.
For just a moment.
But sometimes a moment is all you need.

Of course he kept coming back to that woman all through the show. 
There's no escape from a stand-up comedian once you have made a comment like that, especially when it smacks of racism.
You make yourself into a target and have to accept everything that's thrown at you-
she probably wished she had never opened her mouth.
That's the power of comedy!
And did Mia and Joss enjoy it?
I think so.  
Sometimes, when the comments were at their most sexually explicit, they would hide their head in their hands and glance surreptitiously at us. 
Trying to gauge whether or not it was alright for us to know that they understood what he was talking about.
But the truth is, they are hovering on the edge of adulthood now.
And they probably know much muchabout most things than we think they do. 
" Is anyone going out after this?" asked JImmy Carr at the end of the show.
This is Chichester, so  only a few people said yes!
" You're crazy," said Jimmy, " it's Monday. All I want to do is go to bed. I love sleeping!"
So on the way home we didn't talk about the rudeness factor or the sexualcontent. 
 Mia and Joss were much more interested in knowing whether Jimmy Carr was going to stay the night in Chichester or drive back to London. 
And if he did stay in Chichester, where would he have breakfast?
Perhaps the biggest surprise of all, was that a TV celebrity is actually a real person!