Five lies we tell our kids (and the ugly truths behind them)

As every parent reading this will be fully aware (as well as those who work with children), sometimes, when dealing with small people, we have to be economical with the truth. So for a change in tack from my recent run of Seville and foodie posts - and inspired by, while in no way claiming to be on the same level as, my new favourite mum blog, The Ugly Volvo - I have put together a list of scenarios when telling a porkie pie (cockney rhyming slang: look it up, or take a guess) is perfectly admissible to get you out of a deep, dark parenting hole. You know, the situation where you can see nay a glimmer of light, only the blackness of shame, despair, and an endless vista of bickering, screaming children. (Or is that just me?)
Oh, what a shame. There's none left!

Oh, what a shame. They’re all gone!

“There’s none left”
You’re on a long car journey, where carefully timed snacks are as essential to a convivial environment as separate colouring books and pens, sugar-free drinks, and The Cat in the Hat and Other Dr Seuss Classics played on loop. Then it turns out that the kids are especially partial to your favourite stupidly expensive exotically-flavoured gourmet crisps. “But what’s wrong with your Fair Trade low-salt wholegrain rice cakes?” you enquire. When they clamour for some more of those delectable honey-roasted parsnip, cardamom and curry leaf munchies*, you put on a sad expression and sigh, “Sorry darling, they’re all gone“, while tucking the remaining half-packet down the side of your seat and smiling inside in a crazed, Dawn French chocaholic way: “Ha, suckers, they’re all mine!”
Ice-cream shop - tantrum central.

Ice-cream shop – tantrum central.

“The ice-cream shop’s closed”
You’re walking round the centre of town on a day out, it’s nearly lunch time and the last thing you want is that they spoil their appetites for the meal you’re about to enjoy together on a rare visit to a proper restaurant. The ice-cream monster child (there’s always one) sees the ice-cream shop that you had noticed and surreptitiously crossed the road to avoid, quickly pointing out an interesting shop-window display of flamenco dresses with matching accessories, or toy cars and aeroplanes (excuse the gender stereotyping).
The ICMC demands an ice-cream. “Oh what a shame – it’s closed,” you say, looking sympathetically at a hopeful little face. “But I can see people in there, Mummy,” counters the ICMC. (Damn! Think fast.) “They’re the people who make the ice-cream,” you explain. (Phew!) “Can we go and watch, Mummy?” “Ah, but it’s top secret,” you reply, sounding mysterious and important. “Noone is allowed to see. We’ll come and have a look later, when they’re finished.” In other words, after lunch, by which time it doesn’t matter anyway. Crisis averted.
road, journey, trip

“Not much further now, guys!” (Where the f*** are we, anyway?)

“We’re nearly there”
You’ve been in the car for four hours, the kids are getting restless – OK, let’s be honest, World War Three is about to break out, with hostilities that would otherwise necessitate UN intervention. Everyone’s sick of Dr Seuss by this point (no I DO NOT LIKE green eggs and frigging ham), all the other CDs are scratched (note to self: must get MP3 for car), all colouring books have been exquisitely rendered, and even Eye Spy’s attractions have faded. The road you’re on and the map you’re using seem in no way related, and you have no clear idea where you are at this moment, or where you’re supposed to be going.
But you’re not going to tell them that. Oh no. With a convincing, practised air of cheery confidence you say, ”Not much longer now, folks.” They break off from bashing, poking and the irritating the hell out of each other for a few precious seconds to look out of the window. “Nearly there, my arse,” you think to yourself. “If you believe that, you poor gullible fools…” A least it’s bought you a brief break from the battle – distraction is the key skill in any such drama.
The Ultimate Carrot - technology is a great motivator for children.

The Ultimate Carrot – technology is a great bribe motivator for children.

“Yes, I’ll get you an iPhone/Nintendo DS”
You have unavoidably been put in a situation where you have to take your child to a business appointment. Child has been heavily bribed to behave nicely, to the extent where you have promised him/her the ultimate prize, the current obsession – whether it be a Barbie, bike or iPhone; Nintendo DS, Wii, or PlayStation – so that they do not cause you embarrassment and ruin your meeting. Of course, you have no intention of buying child said much-desired toy or gadget yet (you’ve agreed in principle), but they don’t know that, do they? After the event, if the child kept his/her end of the bargain, the time frame of the reward fulfillment will be expanded to next birthday or Christmas. “Yes, well, I never specified exactly when I would get you it, did I?”
"If you're Not Good, you won't be geting any of these."

“If you’re Not Good, you won’t be geting any of these.”

“If you don’t do what I say, no presents”
It’s the last few weeks before a much anticipated gift-rich event – birthday, Christmas or other major festival. Your children are hyped with anticipation to the point of driving you mad – ignoring every request, command, suggestion and other attempt to control their general insanity. “Right, that’s it, if you do that one more time, there will be NO PRESENTS.” A look of horror spreads over their adorable countenances, as dreams of all those toys and games, so long desired, crumple and disappear.
You know perfectly well that you would never do such a cruel thing to your little darlings. But they don’t – and they always fall for the threat (take my word for it). However with tidying up, “Do it now, or the toys go in the bin” – as threatened with remarkable frequency in my house (by my husband) – no longer works now, as the kids are wised up to the fact that Mummy would never allow it. A Spanish friend told me about an old schoolmate  of hers, whose kids are astonishingly obedient. My friend (who has three under 6, including 3-year-old twins, and is no slouch when it comes to discipline) asked her ex-school friend how she did it. Simple: the threat had indeed been carried out, and toys disposed of. Yes, really. Harsh, not to mention wasteful (I hope they found new owners), but effective.
By contrast to these lies, damned lies, I confess that I am brutally honest with my children on some subjects and in some situations. I have ensured, for example, they are fully aware of the fact that their (maternal, British) grandparents are getting on and will not be around for ever. I have warned my daughter against her current obsession, getting a kitten, seeing that one of our dogs has a strong hunting instinct and loves pouncing on small animals and playing with them in a not-entirely-friendly manner. He could well treat a baby cat in the same way as the rodents who are sometimes foolish enough to venture into our parcela: with no mercy. Basically, I told her it would be very sad for everyone concerned, especially her and the kitty, if small feline came to a sticky end.
Right: I’ve laid bare some of my parenting inadequacies tricks. Why not let us in on yours? How do you keep mayhem at bay in your house? Or are you one of those sickening wonderful families where no one ever shouts or argues, and everyone does what they’re told first time? Do you have a radical strategy like my friend’s ex-school chum?
* Please don’t try to find this flavour, as I made it up. Although I van vouch for the general fabulousness of Tyrell’s vegetable crisps.

My most popular posts of 2013, plus a mini-review

Colourful Spanish wear words are fascinatingly anatomical and religious.

Spanish swear words are fascinatingly anatomical and religious.

You lot seem to think I’m quite amusing. What am I, funny like a clown?

En serio – my most popular new posts, published last year, are mostly silly ones. Well, not silly – highly intelligent, witty and astute, of course.

Plus a bit of culture – phew! I wouldn’t like to think you come to my refined blog just for some light entertainment. Por favor!

So what can’t you get enough of? Let’s find out.

The top five most-viewed Scribbler in Seville blog posts of 2013 are (drum roll):

1) Five Things Spanish People Say (And What they Really Mean) 

This is also my all-time most popular post. A controversial look (see comments) at how to know when someone means something totally different from what you think they’re saying. OK, so it’s actually about swearing, exaggeration/fibbing – and jamón. The stuff of real-conversations life here in Spain.

Number two post of 2013: contemporary Spanish fashion designers' interpretations of Zurbaran's saints.

Number two post of 2013: contemporary Spanish fashion designers do Zurbaran’s saints.

2) Art+fashion+religion=a richly-textured show in Seville

Frocks by contemporary designers reinterpreting famous paintings of saints by 17th-century Sevillano artist Zurbaran. Dead clever. This one was “Freshly Pressed” (as in the badge, top right), which means it’s one of only eight posts chosen by the kind folks at WordPress to feature each day from the tens of thousands posted daily. Which was nice. So if you found my blog through Freshly Pressed, a special hello – it’s good to have you.

3) False Friends and other Fine Messes

We’ve all made an arse of ourselves by mixing up two similar-sounding words in a foriegn language – one innocuous, the other devastatingly embarrassing or offensive. If you haven’t let us in on your experience yet (the comments are much more entertaining than the post, believe me; careful you don’t spill your tea on your PC or tablet as you chortle), then come on over and join the group therapy session – it’s time to spill.

Ceramic celosia (Moorish lattice screen) of new museum.

Ceramic celosia (Moorish lattice screen) of new museum.

4) Celebrating Seville’s azulejo heritage: a sneak preview of Centro Ceramica Triana

Ah, some more history and culture *breathes a sigh of relief*. This museum of tiles, with a winning mix of groovy contemporary architecture, original Moorish brick kilns and some exquisite antique azulejos, was scheduled to open in September 2013, then October, then November, then December, and it’s still not open in January 2014… you get the picture. Well, what do you expect? We’re in Spain, people! Which makes this post even more valuable, as it’s all you can see of it for now.

cadiz, carnaval

The Queen with her Beefeaters. Sort of.

5) Carnaval de Cadiz, family style

Where can you find sea urchins, sand architecture, man-sized bumble bees, and the Queen in drag? At Spain’s craziest carnival, of course. Probably our best daytrip of the year, out of many. And we even dressed up, sort of.

I know I’m also supposed to say Where I Went and What I Did last year in the round-up, so here goes with my new discoveries: Doñana National Park; Ubeda, Baeza, and picual olive oil; Paul Read; Latin-American belenes; the Feria de Jerez; Mr Henderson’s Railway; Costa Ballena, and a cooking class. As you can see, an international jetsetter I am not (used to be, many years ago). National neither; daytrips in Andalucia, often with the family, is more my thing.

I hope you enjoy reading these posts. As long as at least one of them raises a smile, I’m doing my job.

Festive Seville: Mapping and Food Fairs

Happy New Year to all my lovely readers! I hope you had a wonderful festive season, spending lots of time with your friends and family.

A couple of posts ago, I listed all the events that were going on in Seville over the Christmas period.

Although it feels odd still to be talking about last month, I thought it would be fitting to report back on how they all went. I will try to avoid to less obviously festive aspects of our adventures, as I don’t know about you, but I have a serious dose of the January post-Christmas blues.

Flower-covered facade of Ayuntamiento.

Flowers projected onto the rear facade of the Ayuntamiento.

Ayuntamiento, mapping

Meccano construction on the Town Hall.

The Mapping

This is a (free) show of 3D-laser video projections on the rear facade of the Ayuntamiento (town hall), watched in Plaza San Francisco. This was not as imaginative or spectacular as last year’s, which also had more detail and was more technically impressive, and I thought it seemed longer too. However it had some great set pieces, like the Scalextric track with cars racing (video below, quite loud – be warned!), and the sweeping tour of some of Seville’s monuments: Plaza de España, the Atarazanas, Torre del Oro, and Triana Bridge (video also below). But there was no fake snow at the end, alas.

Scalextric section

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=776TXAWFNCg&w=420&h=315]

Seville monuments (watch from 9:20)

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JRGThE5aaQ&w=560&h=315]

The markets

We managed to get to three food markets, the first two of which are annual events, so they’ll be on again next Christmas.

The location of convents which make and sell pastries around Seville. Most have their own shops, and many bakeries stock their goodies too.

The location of convents which make and sell pastries around Seville. Most have their own shops, and many bakeries stock their goodies too.

We started off with the convent pastries in the Alcazar, made by nuns in 24 religious establishments located around Seville province. These include seven in the city (see map above), and one in Estepa, which is particularly famous for its mantecados.

What a magnificent setting for such dainty confections, with the colourful tiles and high ceilings of the palace’s long Renaissance salons, which were lined with tables piled high with pretty white and pink boxes.

mantecados, polvorones, Christmas, Alcazar, Navedad

Sweet treats: convent pastries on sale at the Alcazar.

These traditional Christmas shortbread-type biscuits have wonderful names like huesos de santos (saints’ bones) and coquitas de la Habana (little coconuts from Havana). Thankfully they weren’t all laden with pig fat – manteca (lard) is one of the main ingredients of crumbly polvorones (also known as mantecados); some came in vegetarian versions too. Other ingredients typically include egg and sugar, with some spice or pine nuts.

The annual Seville Province Gastronomy and Handicrafts Fair.

The annual Seville Province Gastronomy and Handicrafts Fair.

We briefly visited the Provincia de Sevilla craft and gastronomy fair, held in the patio of the Diputacion (Provincial Government, one of four levels of government in Spain – over-stuffed civil service? really?). This always takes place over the last two weekends before Christmas.

In a crowded, covered space, the average age of visitors seemed to be around 60, so two small, rampaging children intent on running everywhere at high speed, were a dangerous addition to the mix. Before retreating to a less risky area, we spotted lots of delicious local goodies, some of which were taken to the UK as Christmas presents.

Bodegas Salado's cava was popular with the crowd at the Seville Province fair.

Bodegas Salado’s cava was popular with the crowd at the Seville Province fair.

Among the stands of Seville-made produce, we saw olive oil, honey (orange blossom, rosemary and eucalyptus), cheese, embutidos (sausages), and wine. Bodegas Salado, in nearby Umbrete, make a variety of wines, including a cava. Their stand was mobbed by thirsty pensioners desperate for a free copa de vino. But I managed to elbow my way in and try some. Not Catalan, but perfectly acceptable. This bodega offers tours – on my list for 2014.

Spanish food, Portuguese food, Santa Cruz

Spanish-Portuguese food and craft market in Santa Cruz.

Then we moved on to another food market, this time in the patio of a school in barrio Santa Cruz. This was organised by EuroAAA, the Euro-region of Andalucia-Algarve-Alentejo (southern Spain and Portugal). In a large, open space, this was much better for the kids, who could charge around without annoying anyone – there was even a face painter!

Little Portuguese cheeses, a snip at 1 euro each.

Little Portuguese cheeses, a snip at 1 euro each.

We got some delicious little Portguese cheeses, as served with bread and butter as an appetizer at many Algarve restaurants (although no sardine pate, sadly); Flor de Sal, prime sea salt, produced in the salt flats at Castro Marim, just over the Portuguese border (as always, the Portuguese owner of Agua Mae, Luis, spoke excellent English); and Monte Robledo cheese, a tangy favourite from the Sierra de Aracena, made of goat’s and sheep’s milk and rolled in rosemary, oregano or paprika.

Riding a camel on the Alameda. As you do.

Riding a camel on the Alameda. As you do.

Nothing like a good, old-fashioned funfair ride to fill a small person with seasonal joy

Nothing like a good, old-fashioned funfair ride to fill a small person with seasonal joy.

We also did the camel ride in the Alameda (the Reyes arrive on camels, so they’re a big part of Christmas here). They take three children each, one of the hump and one either side. This was a huge success, despite (or perhaps because of) the half-hour wait; and we couldn’t resist some funfair rides too. The colour and excitement, and exotic treats like riding a “ship of the desert”, are such a wonderful part of Christmas for kids. Seeing the delight on their faces is present enough for me.

What we didn’t manage to see/do: ice-skating at the Prado or the Setas (son); the Mudejar Belen at the Palacio de los Marqueses de la Algaba - a model of Seville in post-Moorish times (me). Next year!

Coming up in next blog posts: the Norfolk coast, and the Cabalgata de los Reyes in Gines.

10 things I’ve learned I can’t live without

A few weeks ago, I reached an important milestone – both in my life, and in my time lived in Spain: it’s 10 years since I arrived here in Seville. Back in September 2003 I came to this beautiful city – via London and Quito, Ecuador – with no expectations, no idea of what I’d find (I’d never been here before), and a few names as contacts.

A decade later, I have a small, tumbledown house (literally), two dogs and a semi-wild cat, two children and a husband, lots more English-language novels, thousands of leaflets, guidebooks and novels about various aspects of Andalucian and Spain, from the Civil War to flamenco, as well as a decent collection of children’s DVDs. And one of the contacts is still a good friend, and unofficial godmother to my son.

Having read Josh’s reliably excellent post on five things not to forget when moving to Spain (clue: it’s about food, and nursery food at that), it occurred to me that since I’ve been here 10 years, my anniversary would be a great excuse hook for a post on things I’ve learned that I can’t live without. Practical posts aren’t my forte, but this might be of some use or interest to a new, or potential, expat.

So here goes (artwork: Copyright Lola and Zac Flores Watson):

no1

1) Revo internet radio
If I want to dance, I find some pop tunes on Radio 2; hear the news, Radio 4; remember why I left London, Radio London; listen to some quirky tracks, Radio 6 Music. I go off into my own little world when I’m in the kitchen with my radio on. Some British expats refuse to listen to British radio or watch British TV. Balderdash and poppycock. (Confession: I do listen to RAI in the car.)

no2

2) Satellite dish
I rarely watch TV, except for the news – once the kids are finally in bed, I’m either working on the computer, eating, or asleep. We don’t even have one at the moment as our sitting room is a building site. But when we do, the reason I value it so highly is CBeebies. Have you seen Spanish children’s TV? Think, the most moronic, sexist, casual-violence American animated nonsense you can imagine, and that’s it. Brain-rot. At least Ballamory has sound ideas on racial harmony. And its theme tune is far less irritating than Sponge Bob Squarepants, FFS.

no3

3) Girls’ nights out
My best girlfriends are all English. What a cliche, I hear you say. But that cultural familiarity, the unspoken bonds, the mutual understanding of being married to a Spaniard (four of my closest mum mates are) and all the communication challenges that implies. All we need is a bottle of wine (or three) and you can leave us there till the wee hours.

no4

4) The Week
My wonderful, though sadly aging, Dad gets me a subscription every year to this weekly news mag, which distills the most interesting and important stories from British and foreign media into 60-odd pages – perfect loo or bath reading material. And it gets passed on to one of those mentioned in 3).

no5

5) Nice soap
The Spanish don’t seem to do nice soap, unless it’s made of honey and glycerin with oatmeal flakes suspended inside and costs 4 euros. Buy a four-pack of normal scented stuff from any English supermarket and you’ll be fragrant for months.

no6

6) Facebook, especially groups
I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t use Facebook. How else would I know when anyone’s birthday is? Or what their children look like now? Or what embarrassing thing happened to them at work last week? Or which Youtube video’s gone viral? I work at home, so there’s no water-cooler moment, no chat while the kettle boils (do they even have kettles in Spanish offices?) It’s like a mouthy coffee break, getting squiffy cocktail hour, and catch-up chat on the phone, all rolled into one. And the groups are indescribably useful and supportive. I’ve made fantastic contacts, found work, and received (and, I hope, given too) useful advice via Facebook groups.

no7

7) Extra reserves of patience and tolerance
The I-don’t-understand-you grimace, the “you don’t need that form”, “you only need one copy”, “you don’t need the original”. Ignore, push, insist, ask again, request clarification (you did need the form, four copies, and the original). If in doubt, start again from the beginning. Be firm and try to stay calm. Spanish administration is hell, but at least make sure that the bolshy jobsworth funcionario (civil servant) who’s trying to deny you that essential document – because she wants to go and have her coffee break – does her job properly. (Although in my case, I don’t think they get off scot-free either – I need everything explaining at least four times, which must have its less endearing qualities.) And if they’re being really obtuse, officious or offensive, just picture them in their underwear.

no8

8) Chutney
Cebolla caramelizada doesn’t quite cut it. In fact, Spanish jams in general are sub-standard. English fruit and vegetable chutneys, however, especially spicy ones, have this strange power of making an ordinary cheese sandwich into a thing of wonder.

no9

9) Regular trips back to the motherland
We go about twice a year – I need to be among people who speak my language, literally, and may not be as warm or friendly as the Spanish, but who won’t frown at me when I mumble because I’m too knackered to en-un-ci-ate clear-ly. Where supermarket shelves overflow with a heavenly array of cakes, biscuits and naughty puds, and crisps and chutneys (see 8) come in 359 flavours. Where friends who’ve known me for years can tell me what I need to be told. And where I, and especially my children, can spend precious time with aforementioned aging parents.

no10

10) My family
Well, obviously. I’m hardly going to dump them by the roadside and go gallivanting off to the Algarve for a week on my own, now, am I? (Well, actually, there was talk of a girls’ weekend away – see 3) The biggest change for me since arriving in Seville, apart from giving up smoking, designer clothes and poncy cocktail bars, has been having my children. They’re half-Spanish, or half-Andalucian as their Dad would say, bilingual, and comfortable in both cultures, thanks to 2 and 9; and 1 helps too. My husband, for his part, keeps our shoddily-built bungalow standing, tending to plumbing, electrical, structural and countless other problems, and is a bear-ish sort of bloke who is useful around the house and garden (great veg patch) – just as well, since he doesn’t have a job. Anyway, they’re the bees’ knees and I love them to bits. I managed without them for three days recently, on a very nice trip in Andalucia, but that was quite long enough, thank you. I can’t go without hugs for more than three days. Ni pensar.

What can’t you live without?

Suffolk: den-building, bunny-hugging and crab-catching

Bawdsey beach - huge sky, river, sand... and, mercifully, nothing else.

Bawdsey beach – huge sky, river, sand… and, mercifully, nothing else.

Golden bales of straw in a Suffold field.

Golden bales of straw in a Suffolk field.

Reader, forgive me, it has been more than four weeks since my last blog post…

A terrible sin in the blogging world, I know – my excuses are: travel, family, being abroad and getting mercilessly harassed by my children to play with them.

We’re back in Blighty at the moment (that’s Britain, for anyone who doesn’t know) where we’ve just spent 10 days house-sitting for my brother, who lives in one of the country’s most improbably picturesque areas – all pretty thatched cottages with roses around the door, thick woodlands, small village shops, wild beaches, and scenery unchanged in centuries. “My kind of place”, as one Twitter (and real-life, honest) friend said to me.

Not only that, but his house is three times the size of ours, and has things like a grill, a hob that works, a kitchen with a table which seats more than three, and – behold! – a breakfast bar, which became my work station. Conveniently – dangerously – close to the fridge (supermarkets here are heaving with tempting treats) and the biscuit tin. I wonder if he’d notice if I swapped our shambolic, tatty bungalow with his gorgeous four-bed Victorian red-brick detached house? His solar panel for hot water would come in handy back home in Seville…

Sunny Suffolk, as it mostly was while we were there, is full of fun family things to do, so here are a few of our favourites. Apologies to foodies, as we ate at friends’ houses or took picnics, so I can’t offer recommendations for where to eat.

This part of England’s east coast is famous for its light: huge, open skies, with a luminous quality that you can see in these photos of Bawdsey, Orford and Walberswick. The beaches are rarely built up, and no crowds, even in August – just rows of picturesque beach huts, dogs and families.

Rendlesham Forest

Rendlesham is a great place for family bike rides.

Rendlesham is a great place for family bike rides.

Adventure playground in the forest.

Balancing act at the adventure playground.

Climbing en masse.

Moving on up.

Anywhere with a wide open space for kids to run around safely gets the thumbs up. A wood is good, providing shade and all-important branches for den-making. This one has an adventure playground (do they still call them that?) where they walk, swing and climb a series of obstacles in a circuit, while you quietly calculate how many limbs will be broken if they fall, and think where the nearest A&E department is.

Den-building is a perfect forest pastime.

Den-building is a perfect forest pastime.

Teamwork for carrying logs.

Teamwork for carrying logs.

No accidents this time, although my friend’s daughter nearly took my eye out with a large branch, destined for a den. Rendlesham has a large climbing thing, a plane-boat with wings, which attracted frenzied pole-descending activity until they decided that a nearby den needed finishing. The zipwire was popular, as was the horizontal circular swing, like a tyre you lie down in. The older children loved the cycling trail, with its steep hills and deep dips. My friend, who’s a regular, told me there’s more children’s stuff on the other side of the car park – next time. There’s also a campsite, which is a plan for next summer.

www.rendleshamforest.com

Orford

Orford

Running along by the river at Orford.

Boats on the river, with the Ness in the distance.

Boats on the river, with the Ness in the distance.

Orford

View across the fields to Orford castle.

Like many of the Suffolk coastal towns, Orford is at the end of the road – a good half hour’s drive from the nearest major highway, so you don’t get much passing traffic. It’s a pretty village of brick houses, with a castle and a quay on the river Alde estuary, and a spit of land, Orford Ness, opposite. This was used for military exercises, but is now owned by the National Trust. You can take a boat out there, as well as other river trips. The quay is a popular crabbing spot.

The hut where we bought our dinner.

The hut where we bought our dinner.

Orford

The bakery and General Stores, next door, are ideal for picnic supplies.

If you’re lucky enough to be there when Pinney’s is open, you can buy the locally-smoked trout, prawns, mackerel and cod’s roe, and other fishy delights served at the famed Butley Oysterage restaurant in the village. For all crabbing equipment, and other local produce, the General Store, and bakery next door, are Suffolk small town at their best. You can also buy freshly-caught fish from the huts along the shore – we bought some cod, which we cooked that night, baked in the oven – it was delicious.

http://www.pinneysoforford.co.uk

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/orford-ness/

Walberswick

Walberswick: over the dunes to the beach.

Walberswick: over the dunes to the beach.

Shallow water, perfect for shell hunting and safe splashing.

Shallow water, perfect for shell hunting and safe splashing.

Shingle, sand, dunes, grass.

Shingle, sand, dunes, grass.

When I was growing up, this was one of my favourite beaches. You walk over sand dunes to a shingly-sandy beach, with shallow water ideal for small children. By car it is reached along a narrow track and a bridge, another favourite spot for catching crabs (a line with a little net bag containing bacon does the trick).

Yes, it did rain.

Yes, it did rain…

There was sun too!

but there was sun too!

The dunes are perfect for burrowing holes and hiding out. Bring a windbreak – handy for sheltering from the gusty, sandy blasts which whip along the beach. We brought a tent, which proved handy to put all the bags of clothes and food in when it started to rain. My (Spanish) husband was utterly dumbfounded by the concept of staying on a beach when it started to rain, but changed his tune when the sun subsequently came out. In the village are cute tea rooms and cafes with gardens, shops offering low-key beach chic, and a green with swings.

Bawdsey

bawdsey

The river beach at Bawdsey.

Crabbing at Bawdsey - Dad shows them the technique.

Crabbing at Bawdsey – Dad shows them the technique.

One of our catch.

One of our catch, still clinging onto the bait (bacon).

Barnacled shells of the crabs.

Barnacled shells of the crabs.

Zac lets the crabs back into the river.

Zac lets the crabs back into the river.

Crabs scuttle back tot he water.

Crabs scuttle back to the water.

At the end of another long road through rolling fields and thick forests, is this hamlet, on the estuary of the river Deben. The beach is sandy and narrow, almost entirely swallowed up at high tide, and muddy at low tide, but perfect in between. Good crabbing opportunities on the small pier from which boats to Felixstowe, over the other side of the estuary, depart. Other than that, there are some houses and a sailing club with cafe. All very relaxed and uncommercial – neither plastic crap (gasp – this is genteel Suffolk), nor ubiquitous nautical-themed clothing, nor trendy housewares.

Zac tries out his uncle's canoe.

Zac tries out his uncle’s canoe.

We made two visits, crabbing on both occasions. On the second, my brother, who loves his wild swimming and other wet sports, brought his canoe and weaved in and out of the sailboats moored off the shore. There was an ice-cream van selling home-made stuff in flavours like caramel and rum’n'raisin in old-fashioned cones. No Walls or Mr Whippy.

Easton Farm Park

Who's cuter, bunny or blondie?

Who’s cuter, bunny or blondie?

Feeding the goats.

Feeding the goats.

Getting into the spirit, with this huge, rather beautiful grey chicken.

Getting into the spirit, with this huge, rather beautiful grey chicken.

Zac with a storybook bunny.

Zac with a storybook bunny.

Children and animals are a wonderful combination. When they actually get to meet up close, it’s even better. We spent the whole day at Easton Farm Park, where children can hold all sorts of creatures – we went to all three “hug a bunny” sessions, and as well as rabbits, Lola met guinea pigs, birds and a baby goat. There’s lots of information on the wall about their feeding and breeding, which is just as well as the girls who look after the animals, teenagers in hotpants on holiday jobs, aren’t exactly bursting with facts.

Every little girl loves a pony ride-

Every little girl loves a pony ride.

Easton Farm Park, Suffolk

One of the rides at Easton.

Pony rides, feeding the animals, little trailers pulled in a line, and a playground, as well as a soft play area for inevitable rainy days with air cannons which pop out harmless, soft balls … and best of all, it’s very compact, and children can ride little pedal tractors all around the farm yard and down to the shady picnic area by the pond.

www.eastonfarmpark.co.uk

We were lucky with the weather – every summer we spend time in this part of the world, and the sun had his hat for more days than many years – although inevitably it rained too. It’s a delightfully unspoiled part of England, with landscapes straight out of paintings; lots of fresh seafood; and beautiful, spotlessly clean, beaches. Holiday heaven.

Have you ever been to Suffolk? What did you do there?

I’m linking up with Gretta from Mums Do Travel for her #FamilyDays linky.