As I mentioned in a recent post (recent in terms of my characteristically unprolific output, rather than time-wise ), I’m a finalist in the BIB awards, organised by Brit Mums, a wonderful website which brings British (and Britain-dwelling) blogging mums together to give them a voice, offer inspiration, and provide support and a sense of community.
I am incredibly happy to have made it into the final of the travel section, along with seven other brilliant mummy travel bloggers (I’m not bigging myself up here – BIB stands for brilliance in blogging). The awards are being given out this very Friday – cleverly timed to avoid any England Euro 2012 matches.
However since I live here in Spain, and the Brit Mums Live event, which includes the award ceremony, is in London, I can’t go. We’ve just been over for the Jubilee, and will be back again in a month for our long summer visit, so it wasn’t feasible to hop on yet another super-luxe, all-the-hand-luggage-you-can-carry budget flight to London, much as I’d have loved to.
So this is my I-hope-I-win-but-won’t-be-surprised-if-I-don’t blog post. I wasn’t even going to do one, but a Spanish friend and blog-reader insisted that I acknowledge/reiterate that the awards are in a few days, I can’t attend, etc etc. They’re all for blowing your own trumpet out here. I think it’s an English trait, avoiding that. An English travel blogger friend recently “confessed” to being listed as Essential Reading in a respected travel magazine. I bet she didn’t feel guilty.
Getting nominated, and then shortlisted, and then becoming a finalist, for a blogging award was a very pleasant experience. I have to admit, my heart was racing as I clicked on the link to the finalists and scrolled down the lists of blog names - and yelped when I saw mine.
I’ll be following Twitter very closely this Friday, though I will have to be discreet, since the other reason I can’t go is because it’s my son’s end of school year (and educational era) show and party - he’s moving up from Infantil (3-5 years) to Primaria (6-12 years). Tomorrow is his year’s graduation ceremony, complete with outfits and two special songs. It’s a big week when you’re a five-year-old in Spain.
Not to mention the fact that his class is performing the Beatles’ Twist and Shout on Friday. Much more fun for me when I know all the words – at last, an advantage to being the only
freak English mum. My anglo-andaluz boy hates dressing up, although it’s an easy outfit, so as a bribe, he’s been allowed to play the keyboard (yes, I know there wasn’t one. Artistic licence). And I have to be there to remind him not to sing in Eeeengleesh: “Tweeest and shout! (Tweeest and shout!)”. The three-year-old has it taped too now. And, of course, to immortalise the event for posterity and grandparents – between myself and my husband, we’ll shooting video and still images. I couldn’t rely on him to do it, could I?
Good luck to all the BIBS finalists for this Friday – I’ll be with you in spirit, if not in body. At least I get to wear a nice frock for the show; you’re not allowed to dress down at your child’s end-of-term performance in Spain. All the mums look super-guapa, so you have to make the effort. Time to start browsing in the wardrobe…