Surviving the Summer Holidays - an Adoptive Family’s Guide

The first day of September signals the summer holidays winding down, back to school just around the corner, routine and sanity almost within reach. I’m sure for some parents this brings sadness as a time of fun and leisure comes to an end, but for me the overwhelming feeling at this point is of relief (that we can all get back to normal) and accomplishment (that we made it through with all our limbs in tact and are still smiling). For many families, the prospect of six weeks off school for the kids is a joyous one - escaping the daily grind of the school run, getting a lie-in more than twice a week, spending quality time together - all understandable reasons for relishing this rest from the norm. All these ideas are appealing to me in theory, but for my little brood, who already come with no small amount of baggage, the summer break particularly brings extra challenges and is predominantly an unsettling time. It was at this time of year that they moved from foster care to live with us, and the ghost of that momentous transition seems to loom over us still during the holidays. Even without this historical curveball, mine are kids that thrive on predictability and routine, and being thrown into an seemingly endless abyss of unstructured days is a daunting prospect for them. Add to that the sense of loss and grief of leaving behind school teachers at the end of term, and we find ourselves suddenly launched into the most difficult and emotionally tumultuous time of year. This year has been particularly hard, with both kids starting new schools in September - the youngest for the first time - adding to the mix inevitable anxiety and apprehension about that.

We Made It Through the Wilderness Somehow

We have been together as a family for two years, and this is our third summer together. The first was our honeymoon period, just after they had moved in, and everyone was on best behaviour. Everything was new and exciting, and the kids were caught up in the adventure of it all. Last year, having already experienced the upheaval of half terms in between, I was frankly terrified at the thought of six whole weeks of the same, and without the support of the other half on a daily basis. So I did what I always do when I panic - I made a spreadsheet. You may scoff, but just being able to see the days laid out, and to fill them with playdates, holiday clubs and activities, made me feel instantly calmer. And a calm mummy is a better mummy. Of course there is always room for spontaneity, and many of our plans were flexible enough to accommodate the possibilities of our up-days and the demands of our down-days. I made sure I was seeing other adults on a regular basis (and I thank my friends for indulging my need to plan ahead), and had contingency plans for rainy days. Because in that first year, when I experienced the literal embodiment of the phrase “bouncing off the walls”, staying home all day was just not an option. The Spreadsheet became my comfort blanket for the first summer, and I was already making one for this year by April.

(Predictable) Yeah, that's the word of the year

Being organised about the summer holidays is good for my sanity, but also for the kids, who love to know what is coming up. They will often ask “what are we doing this week?” and repeatedly request to confirm the details of planned activities as they are looming. I always remind them before bed what is happening the next day, and it does seem to physically relax them to be in the know. It also saves on arguments and debates about what we should do, if it has already been decided and declared in advance. If the activity involves meeting new people or places, we will also factor in some familiarisation time (looking at photos or videos, describing the person or place) to avoid anxiety about New Things. Yes, we go to the park a lot, and for walks in the woods or on the Downs, but many of our favourite playground hang-outs become overcrowded and stressful during the summer holidays, and the kids will tire of the same old walks eventually. So we try to be a bit creative and varied in our pursuits, while maintaining enough familiarity to keep things calm.

Back in the Old Routine

The idea of holiday clubs may not be an obvious one for adopted kids, but it works for mine. Having the routine of a repeated activity every day in a week seems to provide something of the stability we otherwise lack once school is out, and has the added advantage of giving the younger child some much needed 1:1 time when the oldest spends the morning doing things like gymnastics, watersports or musical theatre. This year and last, she spent two out of the six weeks at this type of camp, and loved it. It also tires her out physically and gives her something positive into which she can channel those unspent emotions. We’ve also done quite a few one-off activity clubs with both kids - nature and role-play in the woods with Sarah has been a particular favourite.

We are good in the Great Outdoors, and this is where I must put in a special word for the wonderful National Trust. We were gifted a membership not long after we adopted, and have utterly embraced it. We’re lucky enough to have several wonderful places locally (Batemans and Bodiam Castle are our particular favourites), and although each has its unique charms, there is a thread of comforting familiarity about every property that makes a day out at any one of them free from the anxiety that New Places can sometimes otherwise bring. We have more recently joined the Sussex Archaeological Trust, which has extended our repertoire of beautiful nearby locations in which to adventure, including the charming Michelham Priory which seems to become more alluring on each visit. While kids will always nag to visit fairgrounds, water parks, theme parks and other shiny attractions, in reality they are much happier somewhere green and spacious, and so am I. Summer in these idyllic spots brings flowers and wildlife to explore, as well as trails and activities laid on for the kids. It is a great comfort to know that if we are ever at a loss for something to do, I can always whisk us all off to one of these delightful places and almost guarantee that we will all come home feeling better for it.

would be, it would be so nice

Let’s face it, holidays away are not what they used to be. Perhaps more than anything else in post-kids life, I miss the freedom and whimsy of travel without children. I so want my kids to discover the pleasures of exploring other places and cultures, but I have to accept that they are only little and they do love home best. That they have come to cherish their surroundings and miss home so deeply when they are away is a wonderful thing, and something that we don’t want to undermine. Asking them to uproot, even for a short period of time, is a big demand for children who have already experienced so much disruption. But it is nice to get away, and having experimented with various options, we have managed to find ways to cope with being On Vacation. So far we have tried camping, Bed and Breakfast, and self catering, and the latter was by far the most successful. The theory that motorhome camping would provide some kind of comforting familiarity didn’t really work out, and it proved impossible to persuade the kids that sleeping in the back of a van was a sensible and sane thing to do. In a hotel setting, they were unsettled by the presence of other guests in the hallways and footsteps from upstairs, but in self catering we were able to replicate the home routine more closely and create a cosy, quiet sanctuary to return to at the end of each day.

You’ve Got a Friend in Me

The summer holidays are so exhausting, that I usually just feel like downing a glass of wine and crawling into bed once the kids are asleep each night (even more-so than on a regular term time evening!). But I do try and force myself to go out from time to time and see friends. A mental health top-up is as important as physical rest, and I never regret an evening in good company. Likewise, the kids need to keep up with their peers when they’re not at school, and although playdates (especially at home) can be hard work, the pay-off is happier kids with someone to play with on their level, and less anxiety about returning to a class of half-forgotten friends in September. On the flip-side, it can be easy to fall into the trap of seeing too many new people over the summer. Inevitably, family and friends come to town and want to catch up, but I do try to mostly see familiar faces when possible during this time, avoiding the additional emotional highs and lows that new friendships (especially with long-distance friends) can bring. It’s better to introduce new people during normal working hours when everything else is familiar and predictable.

I Will Survive

Surviving your first summer holiday as an adoptive parent feels like one of those Earning Your Stripes milestones, but I am not sure that it gets any easier as the years go by. Like the rest of the year, you have to take one day at a time and not beat yourself up on the bad days - which can feel more frequent and full-on just because you are together so much more. You have to celebrate the good days, and focus on the knowledge that things will get less intense again once term time starts. And when next year rolls around, you’ll be better equipped to keep your family ticking along through the summer break.

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I'd love to hear from other adoptive (or otherwise) families on how they cope with the challenges of the summer holidays. Leave me a comment, or tweet @rowstar. Meanwhile, here are my top tips in a handy list...

• Plan ahead, with room for flexibility.
• Have rainy day ideas up your sleeve.
• Go to places that calm your children and you
  (Avoid hectic theme parks and fairgrounds).
• Replace the routine with clubs and day-camps.
• Try and make sure siblings each get some 1:1.
• See close friends as often as possible (yours and theirs).
• For getaways, choose holiday cottages over camping or B&Bs.
• Join the National Trust (or English Heritage, or local equivalent).
• Book a babysitter and get in some evenings out.
• Give yourself a break when it goes awry. Tomorrow is another day.

The Peloponnese: A Land of Wonders Ancient & Natural

Olympia. Corinth. Sparta. Mycenae. These are place names that command reverence, and fuel the imagination with epic scenes of ancient warfare, industry, poetry, philosophy, athletics. The Peloponnese could be called the birth place of Western Civilisation, such are its unrivaled historical riches. But it's also a place of breathtaking natural beauty: fearsome mountains, idyllic beaches and spellbinding horizons; a place in which I found myself weeping at the majestic marriage of landscape and legend.

I've explored the Greek Islands many times in the past, and fallen in love with their quaint cosiness and warm-hearted intimacy. When I thought of Greece, I'd picture dinky whitewashed houses with splashes of vibrant blue, straggly cats trotting down cobbled streets, lemon trees in tiny tavernas. But in the Peloponnese I found an entirely different vision of Greece, one that has stamped itself firmly on my heart. Every day of our road trip held new delights; each rambling ruin or zigzagged mountain road more spectacular than the last. And the sun shone almost constantly. And the food was amazing. It was one of the loveliest holidays, and I hope I have captured in our vlog some of the magic of the place. But if you haven't already, you really ought to go and see for yourself.

If you didn't see our Athens vlog, read the post and watch the video here.

Sleeping & Eating in The Peloponnese - The Best Places

Gemelos taverna, Ancient Corinth
Stone cottage in Olympia via AirBNB
Flisvos restaurant, Koroni
Chillbox frozen yoghurt (chain)
Farm Stay AirBNB near Gouves
To Omorfo Tavernaki, Nafplio
Villa with a view near Nafplio

Long Weekend in Athens

Like many large European capitals, Athens is a city of contrasts: between ancient and modern, cultural and pragmatic, real life and tourism. But on my first visit to this ancient metropolis last month, I found it to be even more strikingly diverse than most. I was lucky enough to be staying out of the tourist centre in a friends' apartment - always a good start to a great adventure - and was charmed as much by the everyday people and places as by the more obvious historical attractions. 

At the historical heart of Athens sits Plaka, all higgeldy piggeldy streets, charmingly crumbling stone steps, and crowned by the Acropolis and its legendary temples. We found our way up to the top by a roundabout route, taking in the residential backstreets and peeking into tiny tavernas along the way. It would be churlish to say I wasn't impressed by the ruins in the Acropolis, but in all honesty they stayed with me less than other parts of the weekend. The view from the top is amazing, though, and it's well worth climbing onto the rocks opposite the site entrance to soak it up. We ended up returning to Plaka to eat and drink a few times, and loved this stepped street of bars particularly 

Outside of the picturesque centre lies a sprawling concrete jungle, the result of extreme unplanned growth in a short space of time. But look past the less-than-pretty buildings and you will discover, as we did, a city full of character, warmth and charisma. It is a place to eat well, drink enthusiastically and wander aimlessly.If you love history and museums, this is one of the greatest cities to visit, rich with an ancient and proud heritage. The national archaeological museum is particularly impressive, but other hidden gems are dotted around everywhere, including in tube stations and along side streets. 

Our adventures took us to some unlikely suburbs - easily found on the straightforward metro system - including leafy Kolonaki, busy ferry port Piraeus and chi-chi yuppy hang-out, Kifisia, where bar-lined streets and leafy people-watching spots were plentiful. In just four days there, I really felt like we started to get under the skin of the place, and honestly was sad to leave so soon. Have a watch of our Athens vlog to see what else we got up to on the trip. We also carried on to the Peloponese, and there'll be a separate post/video of that soon, too.

Some of the places mentioned in the video:
Nice & Easy restaurant
Old Fashioned cocktail bar in Psiri
Diogenes Taverna, Plaka
Chillbox frozen yoghurt (all over the place)
Alexandrou Pavli St in Panormou
National Archaeological Museum
Turkish baths (and Folk Museum)
Temple of Poseidon, Sounion

Five Days in Stockholm: ABBA, Vikings, Shopping & Buns

Flying into Stockholm at sunset is a rather magical experience; the jagged patchwork of islands glowing beneath you, bathed in a phosphorescent pinky-yellow that you only seem to get in the Nordics. I’d last been to Sweden ten years ago, on the way to the Roskilde Rock Festival in Denmark, and before that to visit a friend in Gothenburg, but never to the country’s capital.

Our long weekend was largely spent shopping (Stockholm has a good range of boutique/vintage and unfamiliar high street clothes shops), eating cinnamon buns, eating generally, and bimbling around the different islands across which the city is spread. There were occasional bouts of culture (if you can count ‘ABBA the Museum’ as such), and some very special time spent with family in the leafy suburbs, but mostly we were there to relax and soak up the atmosphere.

Before going to Stockholm, I’d had a vision in my mind of a sparkling and elegant city, with sparkling and elegant inhabitants. It is certainly a smart city in places, but turned out to be a lot shabbier around the edges than I’d expected, largely due to extensive ongoing building work around the place, and a slight grubbiness which may well have been a symptom of the time of year we visited: not quite in the bloom of spring, but falling out of the mysterious darkness of winter into a more exposed state.

But it was an easy place to be. Our apartment was on a quiet street in Södermalm (apparently the hippest part of town), and only a short walk across the water in the Gamla Stan (Old Town) and on into Östermalm – the chi-chi city centre whose extravagant department stores make John Lewis feel downmarket. It was in one of these that Ant managed to finally replace the beloved Stetson Hatteras hat he’d lost some time ago on a train, and where I had to have words with myself about the practicalities of transporting a fabulous-but-enormous light fitting back in my little wheelie suitcase.

One of the highlights of the city for me was the surprisingly dinky cathedral, which is tucked away in the Old Town. The interior was smart and light and not at all oppressive (which many grand religious spaces can be), sporting stylish light fittings and some old artworks that were well worth a look. I was also rather taken with the foodie culture of the place. We managed to eat very well, especially at Rival (which I am told is pronounced ‘Reevaal’), the restaurant in Benny from ABBA’s swanky hotel which was just around the corner from our flat.

On the last day of the trip, we travelled a short way north of Stockholm to visit Uppsala, a significant historical site which you may recall, if you have been watching Vikings, as the setting for sacred pilgrimage, debauched festivities and gruesome human sacrifice. All that is left of such legend now are an impressive 250 barrows (burial mounds) and a 12th century church which may have been built on the site of the fabled Norse temple that is believed to have once been at the centre of these dark rituals. The freezing weather on the day we visited only added to the chilling atmosphere of the place, which even though boxed in by roads, a railway line and housing estate, manages to maintain an eerie ambience. No doubt his was fuelled in part by my own fascination with Viking culture, which has lately been re-ignited by the terribly silly but compelling TV series.

Much of the trip is captured in this little video diary we kept along the way, which ends a bit abruptly because we forgot to film a final entry when we got home. But have a watch if you fancy seeing a bit more of Sweden's capital. There are lots of cakes and it gives a good feel for the different parts of the city.

The Best of 2013 - Looking Back at The Year

There's no escaping it, I've been terrible at keeping up with my blog this year. In fact, it's been slowly neglected since its peak in 2008, when I published a mega 122 posts. In 2013, I'd written exactly one post, with this last minute one taking it up to a grand total of two. I feel bad about it, because my blog was somewhere I would capture all the interesting things going on in my life, if only to aid my own reminiscence in years to come. I've let my future self down.

Blogging has also been a welcome non-work related outlet for my writing over the years, although in recent times, since my job has largely involved creating non-stop content for others, I must admit I've struggled to find the discipline to sit down at weekends and churn out any more words. I do think Facebook and Twitter are also partly to blame, providing a handy platform to share bite-sized accounts of holidays, events and the like, so that sometimes a whole self-indulgent blog post can feel a tad superfluous.

But what the hell, I have had a lovely year on the whole, so here it is in one long vainglorious digest. Even if you only skim over and look at the pretty pictures, I'd say it's worth a look. I would promise to try harder in 2014, but I have a feeling I'd be kidding myself and you.

January

We spent 1st January in Slapton, Devon, recovering from a night out in the village pub the night before with Harriet, Lewys and their friends. Our gentle New Year's Day involved a rather picturesque walk around Slapton Ley and down to the beach, before driving back to Eastbourne less than 24 hours after we'd arrived.

We may not have had a White Christmas in 2012, but the snow arrived in time for the annual Wassail ceremony in January, lending the event a little extra elemental magic. This atmospheric procession of fire and ice led us to the traditional blessing of a new orchard and back again to raise a glass of hot spicy cider to the apple trees.

Our first proper cultural outing of the year (not including Panto and the infamous Cod panto - as seen above - which is performed every year by the crew), was to see One Man, Two Guvnors at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. I don't think I have ever laughed so hard at a show before, and I honestly thought Jordan might wet herself when the waiter fell backwards down the stairs. Tears were rolling down our cheeks.

February

The end of January and most of February were socially and culturally sparse, thanks to me being laid up with a trapped nerve that made work difficult and any kind of strenuous activity (including driving) impossible, but I did manage a couple of gentle outings during the rehabilitation period. My first gig of the year was Boo Hewerdine at the Greys in Brighton. Little did I know then that he'd be back again to play at my local pub, The Lamb, in October. A double-Boo year is a good year.

I am very grateful to the friends and family who accompanied me on restorative walks and comforting cake missions during my sick leave, including Jo and Nancy who came over for a bit of both during the February half term. Nancy could hardly bring herself to eat this beautiful rainbow cake, made by the lovely ladies at Neate's.

March

This little nephew braved the elements with us for an Easter trip down to Devon in Kiki the campervan, and saw his first waterfall during a magical walk around Lydford Gorge. We also visited a wild and windswept Tintagel, and discovered that Nutella and custard is an outstanding topping for pancakes.

Having succumbed to the hype, a gang of us went to see Matilda the Musical in London, which was excellent for a children's show but not quite as subversive and edgy as the critics would have you believe. If anything, I thought Dahl's anarchic brilliance was somewhat tamed by being set to music, but it was a fabulous day out which ended with drinks at my old favourite theatrical dive, the Phoenix bar.

April

More outdoor adventures happened in April, when the weather was kinder, and we camped out in Graffham with Kiki and her best friend Olive (and Olive's keepers Steve and Linda). No campfires allowed in this woodland site, but it was a splendid base for an all-day walk with a pub lunch along the way, and several games of Kubb.

May

I've always wanted to dress up as Abba with my sister and our other halves, and what better occasion than the Swedish-hosted Eurovision in May? An evening of international snacks, key-change drinking games and endless wig-swapping ensued.

After a night of all-out campery, sometimes one needs to reset the balance with an injection of wilful geekery, and we managed to combine some of this with a day out at Michelham Priory with Andrew and Amy, where we spent at least an hour talking to a couple of skilled flint-knappers who were there as part of an ancient crafts fair.

A visit from the in-laws prompted us to visit Glynde Place for the first time, and to have lunch at the Trevor Arms for the first time in a while. Both were most pleasant, as was a trip to Bexhill in the sunshine, where we found some sort of exciting boat race going on.

June

At the end of May and into the start of June, Kiki and Olive reunited for a trip to the Welsh mountains, for the tiny and wonderful Fire in the Mountain Festival. Red kites swooped overhead, the sun beat down for three days straight and all kinds of music poured out of every nook and cranny of the little farm. We learned Appalachian flat foot dancing, sang in harmony with our fellow festy-goers, bonded around camp fires and ceilidh-d our way through the weekend, but Ant's highlight was a morning spent in the woodcrafts area, turning a new stick to replace a broken one in our Kubb set, so that we could teach more new found friends how to play. 

This photo (my favourite one of the year) was taken at Rubjerg Knude Fyr in Denmark, on one of the sunniest days of our Nordic adventure at the end of June, just before we reached the very top of the country. Having driven up through The Netherlands and Germany, we explored most of Jutland and Odense and discovered stunning beaches, fairytale castles and heart-breakingly magnificent midnight sunsets. Of all the delights Denmark had to offer, though, I was most affected by its very tip - Skagen - where the distinctive light has inspired many generations of artists including the troubled but brilliant P.S. Krøyer, and where you can stand (as we did) with one foot in the Baltic, and one in the Atlantic, watching the two seas gently crash into each other. I have never been so transfixed by a painting as by Krøyer's Midsummer's Eve Bonfire on Skagen's Beach, which captures a community of painters, fishermen and poets gathered together for the midsummer festival, their relationships and emotions exposed by the haunting glow of the fire.

July

Sometimes after going to far-flung places, you need to remind yourself that there's no place like home. This pretty little spot just down the road at Cooden Beach was the scene of a few mini getaways over the summer; the perfect place to escape to on a Friday night to watch the sun set, cook a barbecue supper, walk along the sand, camp out in Kiki, and even one time, to watch a seal dancing about with the morning tide.

The day after this particular idyllic evening, we went on one of the shortest-lived but most memorable picnics ever; our Brighton friends struggled through traffic diversions to make it just in time for the heavens to open literally ten minutes after we'd all trekked up the hill and sat down to eat. But nevermind, because the communal soaking led to much retrospective merriment, as we all dried off and warmed up with cups of tea back at our place.

July was also a good month for gigs, with Ana Silvera at The Vortex in London, and Regina Spektor at the De La Warr Pavilion in Bexhill both soothing us into the height of summer.

August

Photo by Paul Spink.

August is the month of open air Shakespeare in Eastbourne, and this year's EODS offering was The Tempest. I've often thought that they should use the seafront setting to its full advantage and put on this shipwreck/desert island drama, and was so happy to see the minimal set incorporating the natural backdrop of the sea. To see my brother in law in a frock was an added bonus in what turned out to be an excellent production. I'd recommend you read James's review which sums it all up rather well.

A family camping weekend near Bodiam castle and a trip to its medieval festival was another highlight of the summer holidays. I especially loved seeing one year old Axel relishing The Great Outdoors as an opportunity to test out his newly toddling legs. I'm not too sure how impressed he was with this medieval monk, though.

September

The End of the Road Festival is so called because it claims to be the final festival of the summer, happening as it does at the end of August/beginning of September weekend. I've been a couple of times before, in 2009 and 2010, but it had changed a bit in the last three years. For one thing, there was an extra stage for the main acts, which took them out of the cosy walled garden and into a less intimate open field. It's still a small festival compared with many others, but I did find the cuteness has slipped somewhat. Nevertheless, it was an excellent weekend, with some memorable gigs including David Byrne and St Vincent and Ed Harcourt among my personal favourites, not to mention our own outstanding performance as the cast of a five minute production of The Wizard of Oz, which you can see for yourself above. 

Ant also experienced his first silent disco, at the end of our absinthe-fuelled final night. If you've never been to one of these, you should - it's truly hilarious. Especially when you take your headphones off and hear everyone singing along out of tune as can be witnessed here. Pure joy!

September brought a third Mini Maker Faire in Brighton, after months of preparation and promotion. I got to interview Maggie Philbin (yes, she of Tomorrow's World fame) and Bill Thompson among others as part of my live reporting duties - have a listen to the podcasts here. 

It was also the most colourful month of the year, thanks to a visit from Neel (who now lives in Melbourne), at whose Colour Block party I was one of only a few who chose to dress in green. Interestingly, pink and red were the most popular colours, and we discovered that far too many people base their knowledge of the rainbow on the children's song (which has the colours in completely the wrong order) rather than any useful acronymic reminder.

My birthday weekend was a special one spent eating cake and playing games with loved ones, and catching up with old friends at Paul D's 50th party on the Sunday. It's rare you get to see the theatre crew decked out in posh clothes (frocks are far more common); they don't scrub up too badly at all.

October

As the nights started drawing in during October, we finally (after three years of living here) got around to decorating our bedroom and living room, ridding them of our predecessors' wallpaper and replacing the dreaded peacocks with far more soothing stripes. On the cultural front, there was an outing to see Cabaret at The Congress, my abiding memory of which will always be the overheard conversations of bemused punters who'd come expecting Pop Idol style jollity and were apparently upset to be confronted by harrowing holocaust themes. "I preferred The Bodyguard" was one classic comment.

My favourite film of the year, Le Week-end, was also in October. The touching and intentionally uncomfortable story of an ageing couple celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary in Paris, it starred the master of pathos, Jim Broadbent, elegantly foiled by Lindsay Duncan as his beautiful but jaded wife. 

November

November was a momentous month for us, because after almost year of assessment and preparation, we were officially approved to become adoptive parents. We celebrated the day with an ice cream on the beach and a trip to Brighton to collect Bobbie and Anna's G-plan sideboard (now in pride of place against the new stripy wallpaper in our lounge). This photo was taken on the weekend before panel, on the Downs above East Dean.

It was also an important month for Doctor Who, which celebrated its 50th birthday with a feature length spectacular that was shown in cinemas as well as on TV. It so happened that our Who-mad nephew and his mum were visiting that weekend, so we of course took them to see it in 3D at the Crumbles after loading up on pizza.

December

This is my favourite snap from Ant's birthday soirée last week, capturing as it does the camp insanity of the evening. The theme was Fanlight Fanny's Festive Frolic, and festively frolic we did. And yes, that is me in the turban; what of it? I've spared Ant the humiliation of posting a picture of him in drag, although if you ask him nicely, I'm sure he'll be persuaded to share.

I haven't mentioned work at all in this post yet, although it's obviously taken up quite a lot of my year. That's not because I don't enjoy what I do (because I do), but unless you're also a social media/digital type person it might be a bit dull. One work thing of which I am really proud this year, and that I think you might enjoy, is this animated Christmas ad I conceived and commissioned for The Body Shop.

Christmas itself was spent Up North this year, and after 300 miles of battling through wind and rain, we managed to relax for a few days of quality time with the Miller clan, even making it as far as The Lakes for a family gathering in a soft play centre.

I expect there are many other highlights I've neglected to mention (please, do remind me of them), but these are some that stick in my mind as special and memorable occasions. Thank you to everyone who has helped make 2013 a very jolly and fulfilling year; I really am a very lucky girl.

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So on the last day of 2013, I'm sat here reflecting on the past 12 months, and contemplating the year ahead. It certainly looks set to be eventful, if not for the same reasons as this year and the ones that went before it. I hope I'll be able to find time to show my blog a little love in the months ahead, but if I don't, you'll know why.

Happy New Year, one and all.

Ana Silvera at The Vortex, London

Whenever I have been to Hackney, amusing events have occurred. There was the time that a random man at a bus stop asked Harriet "are you stupid?" to which she replied "no, I'm a teacher" (as if the two things were mutually exclusive), and Stephen's birthday a couple of years back, when we had to pee behind a curtain in a fabric shop (it's not quite as bad as it sounds). It has led me to believe that such happenings are inevitable in this part of the world, and so when Anna suggested a musical jaunt up that way, I hoped for similarly memorable adventures.

Anna had picked the gig, and from scanning the Guardian review that she sent round, it sounded like Our Sort of Thing. After an unusually jolly overground ride across Town, we arrived at The Vortex,  and Anna opened the door to the upstairs venue. we were a little late and the gig was already in full swing. An alarming cacophony of strings accompanied by discordant screeching noises (we assumed from a human) came bursting out, and there was an exchange of raised eyebrows between the four of us as we recoiled a few steps back down the stairs in a mixture of horror and hysterics. Apparently it was to be *that* sort of evening, you know, the kind that ends with "It's not finished....it's finished".

After dashing back to the bar to reinforce ourselves with booze, we braved the gig with a resolve to enjoy the evening, even if in the spirit of racking up a good anecdote. By the time we returned, the support act had calmed down quite a bit, and was making some far more pleasing sounds. Still on the eccentric end of the spectrum, cellist and singer Laura Moody is refreshingly aware of her own wilful wackiness, and makes an endearing pastiche of the self-indulgent performance-art form. Her musicality is evident, and there were moments in between the madness of true string-gliding elegance and vocal skill. Our initial impression was replaced with appreciation: this girl was clearly a #zonechild.

The main act was Ana Silvera, whom we had unknowingly bumped into in the corridor earlier, during our comedy double take moment. A petite lady with a gigantic voice, the classically trained pianist and singer gave us one of those skin-tingling, unforgettable sets, the like of which I cannot recall since My Brightest Diamond at Green Man in 2007. Laced with familiar (and welcome) influences including Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, Tim Buckley and even my beloved Boo Hewerdine (in the song Letter from New York, particularly), and yet full of its own distinct character and charm, Silvera's performance had the intimate audience enraptured, hanging off her every perfect note. When she began to sing in French, I was completely undone, tears rolling unexpectedly down my cheeks. It was one of the loveliest and most affecting gigs I have been to, and a pleasingly memorable evening in all regards.

You can hear Ana Silvera's debut album The Aviary on Soundcloud or buy it on Amazon.

Discovering St Leonards-on-Sea

Although I grew up in Sussex and have spent many happy days pottering around Hastings Old Town and Bexhill seafront, until recently I had somehow avoided that elusive bit in between, St Leonards. I'd always assumed there was nothing much there to warrant a visit, then by chance we picked up a brochure from a Bexhill vintage market, promoting the supposed cultural delights of the neighbouring town.

One of the quirky things I love about that general part of the world is the hidden higgledy piggledy steps that weave up through the steep streets, bringing you out in unexpected locations. You'll come across similar ascending (or descending, depending on which end you start) passageways in Montmartre and San Francisco, but the East Sussex ones have a distinct flavour that somehow evokes Saxon adventure and smugglers' getaways. On a sunny Saturday in May we found one of these going up from St Leonard's seafront (next to the oldest motorbike shop in the country) and made our way in through the back streets, peering nosily into houses as we went.

The brochure recommended Norman Road and the 'Style Mile' as a place to find vintage and hand made clothes and home decor as well as good cafes, so we explored around there first and discovered a strip of interesting shops, that were pedalling everything from customised upcycled clothes to extortionately overpriced bits of old fairground rides. At the end of the strip, in the rather unimaginatively named 'Shop', we found retro trifle dishes, slinky summer dresses and a sprinkling of G-plan furniture, before crossing over spend a good half an hour rifling through vintage clothes at Xanadu.

Surely the ultimate test of a place is its tea and cake, and in this department we were spoilt for choice, with several decent looking eateries on offer. We chose Little Larder, next to Xanadu, to refresh after Ant's slightly traumatic experience of trying on an ill-fitting woollen suit on a hot summer's day (yes, we had some of those in May). The cake and coffee did the trick, and we bounced off to see what else St Leonards had to offer. Beyond Norman Road the attractions were fewer and farther between, as the arty vibe faded into rundown high street of tatty looking shops selling tatty old stuff. We did see a rather nice Art Deco wardrobe in the shabby (but not chic) flea market, but it was part of a set and they wouldn't let us buy it on its own. And so our St Leonards adventure drew to a close. 

A couple of weekends ago we returned in the evening to eat at the quite swish looking, and as it turns out, rather excellent St Clements restaurant, which is reason enough to venture to St Leonards, if my other accounts of the town have not been enough to entice you. It's one of those tucked away places that feels like a locals' secret, serving imaginative dishes at the more decadent end of Modern British cuisine. Although the vegetarian choice was limited, the elderflower and prosecco cocktails more than made up for it, as did the knee-tremblingly indulgent sticky toffee pudding for desert.

Ten Years in Brighton: A Retrospective

On Monday I am moving back to Eastbourne, after a decade of living in Brighton. Most people, when I tell them this, look at me in a puzzled way and ask "why would you want to do that?". Or politely lament my departure whilst clearly thinking the same thing. There are many reasons for the move, not least the desire to live in a bigger place with an upstairs and the prohibitively expensive housing market that makes doing this in Brighton impossible. It's also about family and friends, many of whom are there. 

Brighton has been so much fun and I have absolutely loved every moment of living here - even the dramas, fallouts, bust-ups and hangovers. I've met some truly inspirational characters who I hope will be friends for life. I have lived it up and indulged in all the cultural and hedonistic pursuits that this brilliantly bohemian city has to offer. And I don't plan on giving those things up, but I do find myself increasingly craving the peace and quiet of home. 

To be able to walk all the way along the seafront - from the marina to the beautiful Italian gardens at Holywell, even on a Saturday - without having to fight my way through hoardes of holidaymakers, merrymakers and troublemakers. To walk through town without being bombarded by f**king hipsters at every turn. To be able to walk round to Mum's or my sister's and to help out more with my gorgeous nephew, who is growing up so quickly.

As I sit here surrounded by boxes, getting ready to move, I can't help but look back on all the events and happenings of the last ten years in Brighton and all the wonderful things about living here. Here are a few classic memories and Brighton traditions that spring to mind.

New Year's Eve 1999/2000, aka The Millennium Party

Although I wasn't officially living in Brighton at this point, Ant was, and we were in the first heady days of our courtship - the beginning of our Brighton adventure together. Pedants may say that strictly speaking the millennium was the following year, but everyone knows that we partied like it was 1999 in, well, 1999. Both of us had stinking colds that day, but after dosing up on Day Nurse, Red Wine, Cava and some unknown substance scored from a bus driver, we managed to scare the germs out of our bodies and have the night of our lives. After fireworks and other entertainments in Victoria Gardens, we gatecrashed the Hobgoblin festivities via the back door and ended the night with some legendary table dancing (sorry James).

Moulin Rouge Party, 2002

There have been many fabulous theatrical parties over the years, but none  quite compare to the Moulin Rouge party we threw at our first Brighton flat together in Bedford Place, not long after the film had come out. There was Absinthe, debauchery, campery and misbehaviour - well it's not a real party if you haven't thrown someone out by the end of the night. As I handed round a bowl of skittles mixed with M&Ms (a sure fire way to confuse drunkards), I remember someone saying "this is the best party ever". I think they were right.

Big Beach Boutique, 2002 

It was one of the 'were you there?' events that has gone down in Brighton history for both good and bad reasons. 250,000 revellers (twice the population of the city) hit Brighton  beach to catch Norman Cook (aka Fatboy Slim) and friends do their thing. Many had come from out of town and were stranded at the end of the night as public transport struggled to cope. Luckily we only lived a couple of minutes walk from the sea and were able to saunter home easily and provide sanctuary to friends who could not get home. Ant couldn't cope with the crowds and made a bid for freedom before Fatboy Slim's epic finale, but I had a brilliant time bouncing up and down on the pebbles, making friends and chastising boys with whistles. I'm not sure I could cope with such a night these days, but I'll always remember it as the epitome of Brighton hedonism.

"What Noise Does the Tardis Make?" 200?

Ant and I were on a night out, we'd been for dinner at Blind Lemon Alley I think, and were in high spirits. In the tradition of the "did you ever have a poodle?" Eastbourne episode (which is another story entirely), we decided to start asking people in the street to demonstrate the noise that the Tardis makes. Some people just looked at us with puzzled expressions and scuttled past, others gave it a shot, then wandered off red-faced as they reasiesd that it's trickier than you'd think. But one group of guys embraced the challenge with gusto, spontaneously breaking out into a symphony of sounds and accompanying movements that had Ant and me in stitches. It always sticks in my mind as one of those 'very Brighton' happenings.

Kneel Before Ming, 2003, 2004, 2008 & 2009

Of all the Brighton fancy dress get-ups Ant and I have concoted during our time in Brighton, Ant's Ming the Merciless was without doubt the most impressive and frequently revisited. First created for our Bitches & Baddies party at the Sanctuary, it was also trotted out for Halloween later that same year, the Greatest Hits party I had with Neel and as a camped up 'Ging the Merciless' variation for our Spaced Out party. But the first outing was the most memorable, mostly due to the reaction it got when we arrived on-mass for a post-party boogie at the Gap Club. I had arranged guest list for our motley crew of scoundrels and villains, and Ant led the way as we paraded past the queue outside, proclaiming "kneel before Ming" - which everyone did without hesitation. Inside, he continued to steal the show, with some excellent podium dancing and shape-throwing. Only the Ring Wraith falling down the stairs that night was funnier (sorry Mark).

Getting Married, 2004

Our wedding was unconventional in that we didn't spend two years planning it, or a small fortune paying for it. 20 of our nearest and dearest witnessed us tie the knot at Brighton Town Hall, where my mum recited The Owl and the Pussycat and Natalie sang a moving rendition of Let It Be Me, which made even the registrar shed a tear. We had lunch at the (sadly now no more) Strand restaurant and a big party for all our friends in the evening, upstairs at the Freemasons. We didn't hire cars - I walked to the Town Hall along the seafront with Neel fussing with my hair along the way and a trail of assorted family behind me, and walked back with my new husband, getting whoops and cheers from people along the way. The most expensive thing about the day was the Choccywoccydoodah cake, followed I think, by Ant's boots. How very us.

Poppet & Marcel, 2005-2010

I suppose I could have listed 'buying our first home' as a top memory, but truthfully, the most exciting thing about moving into our flat was being able to make it a home to a pair of rescued cats, Poppet and Marcel. And one of the most emotional things about moving out is the feeling of leaving behind Poppet, who we sadly lost earlier this year. In between all the parties and socialising and eating and drinking, my mogs were always here at home to keep me company and keep me grounded. I hope that dear Marcel will not mind too much being an Eastbourne cat.

Pub Quiz, 2005-2010

The tradition of Thursday nights at the Barley Mow is one I shall miss greatly. In our glory days (before Jo got pregnant and Tim moved to Lewes Road), we rocked the quiz on a weekly basis, even sometimes when it was just Ant and me on the team. In the last year or so, the prevalence of smartphones and people blatantly using them to cheat has made it less appealing, but it didn't stop us form going to one final quiz last night. And missing out on victory by half a point. Gah.

La Clique, Brighton Festival 2006

Every Brighton Festival has brought its thrills and merriments, but one year in particular stands out. It was when the Spiegeltent first came to town and was pitched down on the Steine gardens. Damien, Natalie, Ant and I went to see La Clique, where we also bumped into and ended up sitting with Sham and James and their friends. It still stands up as the best cabaret entertainment I've ever seen (and I've seen a lot), not to mention one of the most fun nights out. I wrote about the show here if you want to know exactly why.

Cocktails

A signature feature of Brighton life, and one I'm not sure we'll be able to replicate to the same extent in Eastbourne. Bar Koba and Bar Valentino have been the main sources of our obsession with Cocktails, though there have been plenty of experiments at home, including the notorious Sicilian Martinis evening of which we do not speak. At Koba, the chocolate martini was always a big hit with everyone we took there and Valentino's Bonzo Dog concoction has tipped me over the edge on many a late night session.

I could go on, but these are the sort of things that have made living in Brighton a pleasure and an adventure. If you're reading this and have been one of the people with whom I've shared the ride over the last ten years, thank you. And please leave your own memories of our escapades and special moments in the comments below - I am sure I've forgotten some classic ones.

Brighton White Night 2010

Brightonians don't exactly take much persuading to dress up and stay out all night at the best of times, but for the last few years White Night has given us an offical excuse to celebrate the art of noctural recreation. A free festival that takes place across the city, White Night marks the clocks going back and celebrates the extra hour we get, by encouraging people to stay up and participate in all sorts of activities throughout the night.

I've been away for White Night the last few years and so this year's was my first one. The city was buzzing anyway with Halloween antics, and the massive Beach of the Dead walk that also happens every year got everyone into the spirit early in the day. By nightfall there was an amusing mix of ordinary punters, gruesome zombies and other ghoulish Halloweenites lining the streets. My first glimpse of White Night activity was as I turned into the North Laine to spy an opera singer belting out from the balcony above the betting shop on the corner of Bond Street. Unfortunately I missed a later performance in that same spot, reported by SessionLeopard on Twitter: "Brighton... where else can you watch a black drag queen dressed as a cloud singing barbara streisand above a betting shop?". Shame, but there was so much else to do.

My first proper stop-off was at the Brighton museum, which involved wending my way through the Pavilion Gardens, where little pockets of action were afoot all over the place. Inside the museum it was pretty much business as usual, apart from a few crafty making sessions and the presence of some willowy ladies in period clothing draped about the place. It did make me giggle to see zombies wandering about soaking up culture, but I drew the line at a man dressed as a spiderman clown and escaped to go and meet Steve and Linda at the Pavilion garden gates.

From there we decided to head for the Sealife centre, where I was utterly enchanted by the huge turtles and tiny seashorses. Not so endearing were the drunken youths flagrantly ignoring the 'please don't touch the fish' signs and whose behaviour was later reported to have started a riot. Things were altogether more civilised at the Library and though outside on Jubilee Square was heaving, the live spray paint artists there were well worth a stop. Inside, we had a play on a big dance mat that was wired up to a percussion loop programme, and enjoyed the relative calm before heading back out into the throng.

Kensington Street was another hive of activity, with both the Lighthouse and the Basement open for business and a  multimedia installation called the Epiphany Dome outside. After a heavy dose of art, we were ready for some music, but not before swinging by Infinity cafe to re-fuel with soup hearty soup in a roll. At the Corn Exchange, a French music showcase was in full swing, but surprisingly there were no queues for the venue. Amiens in France also has a White Night (or Nuit Blanche as they call it) and our towns do a musical exchange for the night. When we arrived, a band called Oregone were playing. I had a little dance around and then spotted Ewan (aka Euzie) at the bar.  It transpired that he and Linda both grew up in Wolverhampton and used to hang out in the same pub. Much disbelief and delighted cries of "you know so-and-so? No way!" ensued.

Next door in the Dome there was nothing much happening other than some pumping dance music and a couple of interactive installations. The night was flying by already and by the time we got down to the beach, the Bandstand happenings were dying down, with only a few half marathon runners straggling about. Walking back along the prom, we gained another cohort in the shape of Rob, who accompanied us up through the Lanes and eventually up to the Phoenix Gallery, which was one of the only places still going. By then the clocks had officially gone back, we'd gained our extra hour and I had completely lost track of what time it actually was.

A quick hot chocolate at the buzzy Cafe Moksha - where live music was still going  on - made a very civilised end to the evening (or should I say, morning). My first White Night had been a riot (though thankfully not in the Sealife centre sense), but it was time for bed.

Middle Farm Apple Festival 2010

You know autumn's arrived when Apple Festival rolls around. It always seems to be the event for which everyone finally relents and digs out their winter coats and hats and sturdy boots for a stomp around Middle Farm. And even though the sun does tend to shine on Firle for the weekend, the temperature has definitely taken a dive since those last days of summer just a few weeks ago, at the end of September. This year was no exception, with a definite nip in the air and even the faintest hint of dragon breath on Apple Festival revellers. I wished I'd worn more layers, but thankfully inside the tents it was cosy, and a dance around to some of the energetic bands soon got the blood circulating.

This year Apple Festival was extra special because it was my nephew Nat's first festival and a delight to introduce him to the joys of dancing along to live music amongst a rosy cheeked, gently cider fuelled crowd. He seemed to love it - as you can see from the above video - and I'm hoping this will have been the first of many festival outings we'll have together. The grown ups had fun too, especially appreciating the extra food stalls and hot spicy apple juice for those of us who were driving. I went home armed with cheese and biscuits from the food hall and numb fingers from holding my dandelion and burdock ice cream float; what a silly idea on a cold autumn day. But oh, so tasty.

Middle Farm Apple Festival 2007

The Very Lovely End of the Road Festival 2010

Ever since I arrived back from last year's End of the Road Festival, I have been trying to persuade Ant that he would have enjoyed it, despite his professed hatred of festivals in general. It's unfortunate that to date his only festival experiences have involved excessive rain and mud (Green Man, Fleadh, Roskilde) or boring mainstream music (Isle of Wight), which meant that it was a bit of an effort to convince him that End of the Road is brilliantly different and much more up his street. I couldn't promise no mud, but based on 2009's experience, it seemed there'd be a fair chance of sunshine and I could confidently promise great music and a charming atmosphere. When I also mentioned the on-site therapies, real ale and abundant use of camping chairs, he agreed to give it a try.

Arriving on site on Thursday evening, there was a definite feeling of trepidation on my part as I sensed his misgivings about the whole proceedings. But by Sunday evening, wine-fuelled, music-soaked and massaged to within an inch of his life, a grinning Ant gracefully admitted that End of the Road had restored his jaded faith in festivals. Phew. I'd had a wonderful time too - there were so many good bands it'd be impossible to review them all, but highlights included Wolf People, Mountain Goats, Three Trapped Tigers, Citay, Ben Ottewell and Mountain Man. Aside from much musical enjoyment, we indulged in plenty of people watching, dancing, bantering, cake eating, curry eating, pizza eating, pie eating, chilli eating, tea drinking, stargazing and laid back bimbling. Once again, the sparkly woods provided much magic, especially the spontaneous late night jams and secret acoustic gigs on the woodland stage.

A game of Kubb on Sunday was a new experience for us both and something we'll definitely be looking to make or purchase for our own back garden. A Swedish skittles-chess hybrid, Kubb involves throwing large blocks of wood to knock out an opposing team's pieces; shins beware. The things that have grated at previous festivals - shouty teens, grotty toilets, epic walks between stages and back to camp, conspicuous security and bag searching, the sound of nitrous oxdide balloons emptying every few seconds - didn't really factor at End of the Road. The only thing I wanted for was a shower (there is only one block on site), but apart from that it really was a very very lovely festival and I shall definitely be going back next year. Based on his reaction, hopefully so will Ant.

Here's a little video I made of some of the bands we saw and the other activities in between. The sound quality is a bit rubbish on a few of the clips, but hopefully it gives you a flavour for the event.