Taylors go to Town

One of Lals birthday presnts last year was a Bessie free day in London. Lal could choose to go and do whatever she wanted, the entertainment centre of the universe was hers. So what did she choose to do...a west end show? shopping in Bond Street? Lunch at Claridges? No, an open top bus tour....during one of the coldest and wettest Aprils since records began! Yes it rained, yes it was cold, and yes there were annoying tourists, yes the tour guide was possibly the dullest and least informative man ever...but it was great fun. We did get off occassionally to go to National Portrait Gallery; Tate Modern (we went specifically to see Shibboleth (the big crack in the floor of the turbine room) only to discover that they were filling it in - surprisingly there were still lots of people intently staring at where the crack had been and the cement mixers that parked nearby); a very nice lunch with Rich and Emily on the south bank; a tour of the Globe theatre; Hamleys and Oxford Street in search of Green Chick Hicks (see OCD post) and a beer in very nice pub.

All in all a very pleasant Bessie-free day.

Obsessive Cars Disorder

Our house is definitely suffering from a new form of OCD. Ever since Bess found a tiny yellow car on a Cornish beach last year our lives have been sucked into the world of 'Cars'. The car turned out to be a freebie given away with MacDonald's. We couldn't prize it from Bess's vice like grip, it became her favourite toy. We found out the little yellow car was Luigi, an Italian tire (sic) store owner in the Disney Pixar Film 'Cars'. we then started noticing lots of these little characters around, then thought we'd better watch the film. And that was our downfall. Bess loved the characters and they do these really nice die-cast models (like old style matchbox cars but with faces) and so we bought a couple.. ..and a couple more..and Bess watched the film more and we bought more cars. them we found out from Wikipedia that all the characters are based on actual cars or voiced by real racing drivers and then......well once you have Lightning MacQueen and Chick Hicks you just have to buy the King and what would Flo be without Ramone and.......Well that's where an obsession begins.

So dear reader let this be a warning to you if you see a little yellow car with a smiley face lying around..LEAVE IT ALONE...DO NOT PICK IT UP. There is no hope for us but you may be able to save yourselves...........

Ali's note: For all the above references to 'we' read 'Brian'.

Before . . . . . . . . . . . . . and after

Yawn, its our allotment update already! We are sitting here barely able to move and here's evidence of why - a before shot . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Several hours of digging later . . . . . . . .

Blimey, it almost looks like an allotment. Obviously we have several hundred days of digging still to do, but hey, even Alan Titchmarsh did this once and look at his gardening God-like status now!.

We might even plant something this week.

See you soon allotment watchers.

Joe Swift eat your heart out!

Just call us Tom and Barbara! At the end of March we took over an allotment. Fed up with passing so much of our hard earned cash over to Mr Tesco we decided we'd have a go at growing our own. Luckily just over the road in Barn Way there are some allotments and we were lucky enough to be allocated one. We've only got a half allotment which we though would be sensible in our first year (not that we had any idea how big that was going to be).

The allotments are just as you imagine an allotment to be: some are incredibly neat with things growing in rows that look as if they have been set out using a ruler; others are rather less kempt with ramshackle sheds and compost heaps (I suspect ours will fall into the latter category). As Mr Webb (the allotment-meister) showed us round our glorious plot other allotmenteers were already offering advice (even if some of it was contradictory; do we cut back our raspberry canes or leave them?). By the time we were turning the first sod we already felt part of the community.

Our allotment has rhubarb, gooseberries and raspberry canes already growing. We've dug up some carrots and some there's also some chard (no I don't know what that is either). The rest of the plot needs weeding and digging over...and planting. We've only spent one day on our little bit of earth and we're already feeling very righteous.

Watch this space for more allotment news.

P.S. for those of you puzzled by the title Joe Swift is off of Gardeners World and has just got his own allotment. Watch on Friday nights 8:00 on BBC2 for his exciting adventures...unless of course you have a life. http://www.bbc.co.uk/gardenersworld/presenters/

Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau

I owe brother in law Rich a lot of Beer. When he was offered tickets for the Wales v France climax of the six nations championship did he turn them down because he would be on the snowy slopes of France, no he grabbed those tickets with both hands and passed them on to his Mum and I.

What a fantstic occassion. The last game of the tournament, at the Milleniuum Stadium and the chance to win the Grand Slam. As we took our seats there was a choir competition in full swing lots of 'Sospan Fach' and 'Delilah'; then the national anthems (surely the two most rousing anthems in the six nations). Jen had the national anthem written out phonetically so she could join in. Then the match. The first half, if I'm honest was disappointing, a fairly pedestrian, cagey game. But the second half was fanastic and the crowd came alive. 'Hymns and Artias' echoed around the stadium at every minor advance of the Welsh team. Everyone rose to their feet every time little Shane got hold of the ball and then the try we were all waiting for. A few more exciting moves another try by Martyn Williams and it was all over.

We had seen France play New Zealand at the Millenium stadium in the Quarter Finals of the World Cup. That was the most fantastic atmosphere (we sang 'Allez Les Bleus' till our throats were raw), but seeing Wales win the Grand Slam was something else.

Thanks Rich I owe you.