The British on Holiday (or What on Earth Were We Thinking?)

I have decided today to regale you with tales of the holidays of my youth. Not my early childhood, I don't remember any disasters when I was little - The Isle of Man always seemed to be perfect - apart from my brother holding me over the side of the ferry whilst telling me there were sharks below! The sun shone, the fairies made the glens glow, the trams always ran on time and got us where we wanted to go and my Dad, brother and Grandad always caught fish for tea.

So what happened when I hit my teens? Probably over-enthusiam.  When we decided to go somewhere we picked the first B&B we could find in the guide book, booked and went - usually by train - now that was exciting. 

So onto our great adventures. Well, adventure 1 - Scarborough. As you know I am a huge Bronte fan. Well I had been to Haworth and seen where they lived and where two of the sisters were buried, all that I needed to do was make a pilgrimage to the place Anne Bronte died and was buried. B&B book out, option number one, right by St Mary's Church with sea views, what could be better? Booked! 15 year old me and my mother excitedly boarded the train to the Costa del Yorkshire. 

We arrived at our B&B and were shown to our room. It was in the attic. To be fair it did have a sea view, as long as you stood on a chair, clung onto the rooftop window and peered over the church. Not to be disheartened by such setbacks we began unpacking. I opened up my suitcase and then opened up the wardrobe doors. That was mistake number two. The original doors had obviously broken and been replaced, unfortunately by ones that were far heavier than the actual wardrobe. If you opened the doors, without the weight of clothes inside, it fell on you. Fortunately my Mum caught it before it completely flattened me!

After tea we asked the owner how to get to the front. Well the quickest way is through the churchyard. Okay fine. We did that, then decended about 100 steps into the town, had a lovely time. When it was time to come home we realised it was dark and we had to climb up 100 steps and walk through a poorly lit graveyard to get back. As we got to the B&B my Mum asked if I was okay. I told her I was fine, I had just closed my eyes and clung on to her until we were through. "Oh so did I" said Mum. How we got through, that night or every night after I'll never know. Probably sheer will power. 

It was actually a lovely place to stay and a great improvement on the previous year when we had visited Margate staying in a 'carefully selected' B&B. We were staying in a chalet adjoining the house. That chalet turned out to be the brick shed in the garden which had had a window added and a rail attached diagonally in the corner in lieu of a wardrobe. To access the loo you had to walk across the yard and through the patio doors into the house. The doors were closed at 12 when the owners went to bed so you couldn't drink to much before bedtime!

The year I was 16 we decided to be adventurous. Eight family members, aunts, inlaws and us booked a villa in Malta. It was my first time on a plane. Obviously I didn't freak out when I saw how tiny the windows were and make a break for the door, yelling that I couldn't sit there for hours and nobody could make me, obviously I didn't then have to be calmed down and treated like a five year old and asked to sit in my seat like a good girl and I'd soon be able to see fluffy clouds and there'd be a lovely meal and it would be over before I knew it. I mean that would be ridiculous wouldn't it? Ahem.

I come from a long line of calm, rational women, my Mum and Aunt being two of them. As we arrived at the villa. there were lizards running up the wall and through the air vents. My brother, sister in law and I  trotted in. My uncle followed a few minutes later to ask for help to "get the panicking women in" For two whole weeks we had to hold their arms and time it so that we ran them in as the lizards disappeared. This all went fine until the day before we returned home, when my sister in law's father asked "You know those air vents? Don't they go inside the villa?" There was a look of "Noooooo" from five of us. Needless to say some people didn't sleep that night!

The second week of the holidays it was deemed a good idea to hire a minibus as my brother is a great driver. We bought a map and set off for adventure. In those days Malta only had one set of traffic lights for the whole island. Then there was the question of do they drive on the left or the right? This was soon resolved through experience. In Malta everyone drives in the shade and whoever is biggest goes first!

The most adventurous trip we made was to the Blue Grotto for a sail through the beautiful caves. We set off early one morning.My brother was driving, my sister in law had bailed out as navigator and I was in the passenger seat directing. My brother decided that he didn't need help and could get there himself. We passed a group of old men sitting outside a shop, twice! I pointed this out and my brother told me that they were not the same men. Ten minutes later we passed them again. Then my navigational skills came to the fore. "We should have taken a left here" We did and began to climb a mountain path, which gradually became a single carriageway mountain path. We all joked about hoping we didn't meet someone coming the other way and laughed nervously. Then, it happened. The road finished. Cliff face ahead, sheer drop to the side. As I say, my brother is an amazing driver, which he proved that day when he reversed a minibus down that cliff! We set off again and, when we passed the old men for the fourth time it was finally accepted that the women's view of stop and ask someone might have some validity. We popped into the shop, map in hand to ask. The shop keeper informed us "That maps no good, we make those for the tourists, most of the roads aren't on them." He then directed us to the Blue Grotto and we arrived without further ado...... to find a sign telling us it was closed for the day because the water was too rough!!!

I could regale you with tales of my holidays all day, surfing upside down under a surfboard in Cornwall with my friends expert surfer cousins, being piggy backed down a mountain after losing both my skis in a collision, which European hospital is best -I have tested out quite a few after trying various sports and local cuisines, but I feel this blog is probably long enough,  and anyway, what would I write in future ones if I tell you everything at once?

A Garden is a gym, a therapist, a friend and a delightful, intimate cafe

My garden is one of my favourite places to be. I am already making lots of plans for it for next summer.  This will involve a lot of digging, hammering, painting, planting and my husband building me a new raised herb planter. Oops haven't told him that yet and he reads my blog - sorry darling, love you x

When I was growing up my Dad was the gardener. We had a beautiful garden full of flowers and herbs. I just left him to it and played in it, mud pies were my speciality! After he passed away my Mum just kept the garden tidy, it was Dad's domain not hers, she worked in it with him. gradually it became mostly lawn. So I never really ventured out into it much apart from to laze in the sun and read books.

When I married I acquired an amazing Mother-in-law who could have worked for the RHS. She could grow anything and knew so much about horticulture. When we moved into this house she immediately came to visit, told me what all the shrubs were and how to care for them. We have two very small gardens, my parents-in-law is huge. At first I thought that meant I couldn't do much but my lovely Mother in law bought me a book on Courtyard gardens and told me that by time the children have grown up and I am getting older I will be glad to only have small gardens to tend and that the possibilities were endless. She filled me with so much enthusiasm. By the time she had returned to Malvern I was out there planning and redesigning my garden. It is now totally different to the one I inherited which was a low maintenance one as it had belonged to two teachers who were far too busy for such things.

As soon as spring arrives I am out digging, pruning and planting. My husband often tells me that we really cannot fit any more into it but fortunately we do have a garden like a tardis and it always seems to squeeze things in. A few years ago it was two apple trees and fruit bushes to be squeezed in. Of course they fitted- it was perfectly planned! The harvest was delicious this year. Whenever I cannot squeeze something into my garden I just buy a new planter. The last visit my Mother-in-law made here she looked at the planters covering the patio and down the side of the house and said "You know Janet, you really need a bigger garden" then laughed. I probably do but if I did get the garden of my dreams my poor husband would never see me!

So, why is a garden so wonderful? Well it relieves so many of life's stresses, far better than any therapist. An hour out breathing fresh air, digging, pruning and watching the wildlife out there and peace and tranquility is restored.

It is also a wonderful gym, by time I had dug up and relocated the orange blossom to make room for one of the apple trees I had certainly worked off plenty of calories. And, in case you are wondering, all are growing beautifully.

Last of all it makes a delightful cafe in the summer, sitting out there whether alone or with friends is absolute heaven. The colours and scents of the flowers, the sounds of the bees, butterflies fluttering everywhere and all the visiting birds mean that you can never get bored. In all honesty I could sit out there all summer, I could even be tempted to camp out to check what I miss of a nighttime. We have some lovely pipistrelle bats who fly across the front of the house in summer and I have heard a little owl too and we have at least one fox, but what else comes to visit?

Winter tends to leave gardeners a little sad, I so miss being out there and getting busy. I used to plant vegetables and flowers with the children at this time of year but they have reached an age where their windowsills are their own domain to be filled with tardises and engines not Mum's indoor gardens. Never been faint hearted though. Gardening magazines have been purchased, Hessayon books out and this year's garden makeover is about to be planned. May have some more suggestions for my husband's carpentry skills, which will delight him, but just wait till he sees it finished!

Another Year Over and a New One About to Begin

Well, we are at the end of 2014. We have had four difficult years with family illnesses and losses. This year has been the most difficult of all and it took its toll on us mentally. There have been times when, if I am honest, I didn't know what I was doing or saying. I worked on automatic pilot and I escaped into a world of my own. It wasn't an answer, it was just avoidance. My Dad always said that when a demon rose, you had to stand up and face it or you would never defeat it. As I was a small child I thought he actually meant a supernatural being with horns. It is only now I see exactly what he meant. It has only been the last couple of weeks that I have begun to face a lot of demons that I have left locked in a cupboard, only opening it to squeeze in one more.

None of my demons are really anything major, just issues I have never dealt with, guilt over decisions I have made when there was really very little choice in the matter, sometimes guilt over things that had absolutely nothing to do with me. So much time wasted worrying over things, time that should have been spent doing something worthwhile.

If my Dad could have seen me this year he would have stood with  his arms folded, shaken his head and asked me who I thought I was helping, moping round the place and my Mum would have said  to "pull yourself together and get on with things." If I messed up Dad always made me go back and put it right with people. Some things I can never put right and I have let that really bother me because it felt like I was letting Dad down as well as other people, family and friends.

 My brother always says that I have idealised my father in my head and need to realise that he too wasn't perfect. Since losing my Mum I have found out about mistakes my Dad made that at first just added to my distress but I have come to realise that, no, my Dad was not perfect, he was human, but the important thing is that he tried and he encouraged us to try. That's just it - to try. Sometimes we don't succeed. That does not mean that we are complete failures or that we have badly let people down. It means that we are human. I can't believe I have wasted the last few years trying to be superhuman and then berating myself for not managing it. I have not only ruined my enjoyment of life but that of my family.

Over quite a difficult Christmas this year when I think I finally hit rock bottom and believed I didn't want to see 2015 because I couldn't see one thing to look forward to, I began to think about all the things my parents used to say to me, little sayings or phrases,   and I am going to focus on them to get my and my family's life back on track.

My Dad used to say "There's no use complaining, and if you do no one listens" That is something I have done far too much of lately - complain. I am going to try so hard not to do much of it in 2015.

He also said "We all make mistakes, the trick is to learn from them and be better next time" - something I have not done, I have dwelt on my mistakes and let them fester into demons, ones that have taken over my life. Mistakes are just that. You learn by them, you grow through them. Next year I will use them to help me make better decisions.

My Mum used to tell me "Don't think about the past too much, it's gone, if you stay there you'll waste your future" I have spent so much of my life thinking how I could have changed situations or conversations and whether things would be better if I had. I have spent most of this year going over and over decisions I made for my mother's care. It has not helped her, she is totally at peace now and it certainly has not helped me or my family. Next year I will focus not on what I have done that cannot be changed but on what I can do that will make a difference.

My Dad always smiled when at the end of the day we sat down for tea and looked mucky and dishevelled (as long as our hands were clean). He always said that an immaculate child had certainly not had any fun! That is something I seem to have forgotten over the years - the need to have fun, even as an adult, to do daft things and laugh. In 2015 I intend to start having fun, both on my own and with my family. It is a mother's duty to embarrass her children. My Mum used to tell me that with a wink, if I disapproved of something. I have to say my mother never did anything worth disapproval but she did have fun!

My Mum always said that she was still 19 in her head despite how she appeared on the outside, and I have to say that until well past retirement age she still managed to do so many things and definitely had a young outlook on life, a thing my daughter remembers well "Mum, Nan was more with it and less prudish than you" Yes, she was. I really don't know when I became so straight laced and serious but it is definitely time to start being the fun Mum I always intended to be and maybe even shock my husband by being a fun wife again!

My parents went through far worse years than I have ever had to cope with, they experienced greater loss than me and still they laughed and sang and believed in magic and the impossible and they were two of the happiest people I ever knew. My Dad always said children needed love not expensive toys and clothes and he was right. We were raised with so much love and that is why our childhood was so magical, because both parents gave us their love and attention. They wanted us to have a better life than them. With recent years I have felt that my life was an absolute mess and that I was never going to be happy because the world was plotting against me. The truth is I was plotting against me and against those that I love. My parents would certainly not approve of that and neither do I. I intend to spend 2015 focusing on loving my family as they should be loved.

Abraham Lincoln supposedly said that 'Most people are as happy as they make up their minds to be.' This coming year my attitude is going to change. I intend to be happy, to support my husband and family and to stop dwelling on the past. I will not be going to the Hillsborough Memorial Service this year or remembering the death days of my parents. I will focus on the positives, the days they were born, married, made a difference in the world and I intend to make a positive difference in the world too. As my Dad used to tell me "You can stop sulking young lady, you will go out there and smile at people because it may be the best thing to happen to them all day" The time for sulking is over,  2015 is the year to smile and make a difference.  A Happy New Year to All. It is going to be amazing - and why? Because we are all going to make it so!

The Wonderful World of Books

There isn't a room in our house that doesn't have a book in it. Some rooms are so full of books that there is barely room for anything else. If we go away, even for just a few days, books are amongst the first things that are packed. Books are, quite literally, an essential part of our lives. We are at our local bookshop so often that I think the staff include our presence when they do their stocktaking.

When I look back at my childhood I remember being tucked up in bed reading, snuggled in a comfy chair by the roaring fire on a cold winter's day devouring a wonderful work of fiction or laying on a towel on a beach with a book in my hand. One of the first things I remember my Dad doing, after finishing his dinner, is settling down on the sofa with 'The Count of Monte Cristo' or 'Kidnapped' or other exciting novels.

So why are books so important? Well, they can inspire, reassure, give hope, gratitude, terrify, amuse or simply liven up a boring day.

For as long as I can remember I have escaped into books, loved their worlds and wanted to live in them. When I was in primary school I used to love reading the Enid Blyton Secret Seven books. I wanted to live in the wonderful land of freedom inhabited by those children. I wanted to go sailing, exploring woods and brooks,to have exciting adventures. The bizarre thing is I had a wonderful childhood, full of freedom. I was out with my friends in all the daylight hours playing sports, climbing trees, hiding and seeking, but somehow the land in which the Secret Seven lived was far more exciting than mine.

As I reached my early teens Agatha Christie became the woman to read. Then I wanted to be Tuppance and go out solving mysteries with delightful Tommy. I think I read every one of her crime books. To this day I would still recommend 'The Murder of Roger Ackroyd' and I defy anyone who hasn't read it to identify the killer before she/he is revealed.

Of course as I grew older it became romances that I wanted to read. Jane Austen quickly became a favourite and I waited and waited for a wonderful Colonel Brandon to come along, whilst reading and rereading her books. Crime wise, I left Agatha Christie behind and moved on to Dorothy L Sayers and her delightful Lord Peter Wimsey. Then I discovered more and more classic books and never looked back. At one point I was asked at the local library if I ate them because I was there so often for more!

These days, with a lovely family needing my attention, I don't read as much as I used to but still quite a lot. I am not so fussy now. I will read anything. One day a classic, next an autobiography, then a poetry book, followed by a comedy sketch book, even (gasp) a graphic novel! But still I often lose myself in them and escape to an exciting world, free from stress and worry where magical things can happen and dreams really do come true.

So I would say to anyone - if you enjoy it read it. I am even beginning to attempt science fiction and fantasy books myself and, do you know something, they are not at all bad. So don't stop reading something because someone laughs or thinks your choice inadequate. It's your choice not theirs. This comes from the woman who will be reading 'Bunny Hopwell's First Spring' again next February for about the zillionth time since I was five. Before you ask, no I'm not embarrassed to be reading a kids' book. It takes me back to a wonderful childhood and reminds me that at the end of every bleak winter, there is a beautiful spring to look forward to. Books are there sometimes to educate, enlighten and inspire but at others just because they are good fun and you want to read them. So I say again - pick a book that you are going to enjoy, then read it and escape into the wonderful, magical world of reading.

To Autumn (with apologies to Mr Keats)

Autumn, the most perfect season of the entire year. John Keats described it as a 'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' and went on to pen an entire ode to it. Now, for one of our greatest poets to spend that much time writing about it, Autumn must be a pretty cool season.

I love it from the moment it begins. The farmers in the old part of town begin to bring in the harvest and I love cycling out there to watch them. I can imagine I am back in a time when life was much slower, despite the modern agricultural equipment. There is something calming and reassuring about watching the local farms at any time of year but in autumn it is just magical.

As you step outside the air begins to have a different smell and feel. At first it is a little sad because it feels as though summer is tired and slow and can't quite carry on. Bizarrely I always feel a little sorry for Summer at this point and it makes me a bit sad but as the season rolls in Summer steps aside and the air gets that delightful nip and it begins to wrap itself around you as you step outside as though it wants to hug you. Any season that loves you that much deserves to be loved back.

The fruits are so plentiful now too. We love to go to the squirrel reserve with tubs to collect the blackberries for crumbles and the apple and pear trees are just laden. Much to my husband's disgust there are tons of damsons too. I just love it. I'm  gathering the jars together now to make my first marmalade. The smells of autumn in the kitchen are mouthwatering. It takes me back to my childhood. My mother was always baking and her cooking followed the seasons. We seem to have lost that a little.

Then there are the colours of autumn, oh the beautiful, rich colours.  If you ever get the chance to go up to the Trossachs in October take it. I don't think there is a shade of yellow, orange, red or brown you don't see. If you are an artist please paint me a picture of it for my wall! Even in the local woods I love an evening walk, the low autumn sunlight makes the most wonderful shades and patterns through the trees.

The other autumn smell that I bizarrely love, and may not be environmentally friendly, is the smell of the autumn bonfires as people burn their leaves etc. I could spend hours in the garden of an evening just collecting the various scents and watching the last of the bees and butterflies flitting round the fading flowers.

Then there is Hallowe'en and Bonfire Night. Fun and parties and, you may shout at me, but I love fireworks - the crackles, whizzes, bangs and pops. I love the colours, and the Catherine wheels and those amazing ones like shooting stars that burst and shower down over the night sky. I love standing by the bonfire, listening to the crackling of the fire and feeling the heat on my face. I like bonfire parties where there is no Guy because I always cry to watch him get burned and want to pull him out! And toffee apples. I eat healthily most of the year but on Bonfire night you just have to have a toffee apple.

So, in summary, what is the best thing about Autumn? ...... well, everything really!

Once a Mariner Always a Mariner

Football was a way of life as I was growing up. From the age of four I was taught to chant the names of the Liverpool football team by my big brother. My father taught me to bow my Rupert Bear in reverence as I said the sainted Shankly's name and at the age of five my brother kept me in a headlock until I swore undying allegiance to the Reds! (he was sixteen I complied!) Saturday nights depended on the result at Anfield and beyond. My brother and his friends never missed a game home or away. If Liverpool won he came home, kissed us all, had tea, dressed up and went out for the night. If, heaven forbid, they lost,  he stormed in, slammed the door, glared, charged up to his room and we didn't see him again till Sunday!

I never had an early bedtime on Saturday night. Match of the Day was considered compulsory viewing. From the age of six I could explain the offside rule and why the referee and linesmen were blind! But I never went to a proper match - not till I was twelve and I am not sure that would count - it was at Marine's ground to see Liverpool Ladies vs Everton Ladies and I got to meet Kevin Keegan! Oh I was so impressed!

A few years later and I was regularly at Rossett Park (as the Arriva stadium was called then) with my friends watching Marine play - and what a team they were! You had to be quick in those days there were no boards as there are now, just metal rods with rope strung between them - if a player made a sliding tackle you learned to jump quickly to avoid getting stud marks up your legs! But it was live football with dishy young players and we loved it.

As we moved towards our late teens we graduated to Anfield and stood in the Kop - which isn't great when you are only 5ft and half an inch. Didn't see much but it was the atmosphere and someone always told me if there was a goal! My adoration for King Kenny Dalglish grew with every game. I wasn't as brave as my brother and only ever went to one away game - at Birmingham - we got lost four times - if we had been playing Aston Villa we'd have nailed it!

Then one spring day in 1989 a young boy who used to be in our church choir went to see an F A cup semi final. A bright young boy, brilliant cricketer, full of life and enthusiasm. He was just 17. He never came home.

From that moment I lost all enthusiasm for football. I swore that I would never set foot inside a football stadium again. I forgot about the game. I went to ballet, the theatre, I took up tennis again. I didn't even watch the FA cup final any more. If my brother went to a match I would get a build up of panic inside even though stadiums were now all seater. Gradually that subsided but, apart from memorial services, I never set foot inside a football ground. .

I met my husband in 1996. He hates sport of every kind and we never really talked about football apart from when April came around. He had no real idea of the enthusiasm I used to have for the sport. I never went near a match for 24 and a half years - until last September. My son had been pestering me to take him to a match. He, I am sorry to tell you, is an Evertonian. I suggested Marine - that's where I started. I spent the entire week psyching myself up, telling myself that it wasn't a betrayal going to a football match. When the day came  he decided he didn't want to go but my daughter said I'd built myself up too much not to get it over with. About an hour before the match I sobbed to my husband I felt so guilty. He quite rightly told me that I should remember that everyone of those men and women would have been back the next week and what good did I think staying away would do? He was right.

We went. It felt strange for the first 15 minutes being back at a match but I soon got into it and was running through the finer points with my daughter who was aghast at how much I actually knew about football.

Within a few short weeks we were at every home game and my daughter was complaining that the Mum who took her to Copelia and Giselle was suddenly yelling at refs and giving them the benefit of her knowledge!

These days she gives me orders before we leave. I have to be a good girl "Don't yell at the ref, he knows the rules" (actually there are no rules in football only laws but I want her to come with me) "Don't accuse the opposition of diving" (they frequently do), "Do not suggest you train the team!" ( don't remember actually saying that) and "even if our goal keeper does save a goal, under no circumstances are you to tell him you love him, he's about 23!" (to be fair he had just saved a penalty!)

And so football has become part of my life again. It has been a tough year but getting out to my football match has made such a difference to my spirits. My husband even suggested he dropped me at a couple of away matches when I was particularly down. It helped. At the beginning of the season he was complaining that he had married a nice, quiet girl who went to the ballet and now lived with a football yob! By the end he told me to get my season ticket for next season and was arranging our social lives around Marine home games!

When did I know I was truly re-hooked? Well, probably when I found myself at a pre season friendly on our wedding anniversary, having had our night out the day before (dreadful woman I hear you say). Our new season has started properly now. I will be cheering us on against Trafford on Tuesday and, no, I don't feel guilty about being back in a football stadium, though I will never go to a Premier league match again.

So what of this season? Well our first match didn't go as well as expected but our pre season friendlies have given me much hope and enthusiasm. My Marine are a team to be reckoned with again - oh and this guy

our number 7 Andy Fowler is a name to look out for on my Twitter feed cos he'll be scoring a heck of a lot of goals this season and, as for me/ - I'll sit in the stands and be as quiet as a mouse! Well unless the referee makes a wrong decision or the team need my support or the opposition need putting in their place. I shall repeat "I am a quiet girl who likes ballet, I am a quiet..." No actually - Once a Mariner Always a Mariner and if my team need me and my support I shall be there!

The Magic of Thunderstorms

Thunderstorms are my favourite kind of weather. Can't get enough of them. It wasn't always so. As a small child the loud claps of thunder terrified me and the scary flashes of lightning were too much to bear. At the first sound I dived for cover under the kitchen table and nobody could tempt me out until the whole, scary business was over! 

So what happened? Well I grew up with a Dad who wasn't scared of anything you didn't really need to be scared of and he saw no reason why his youngest daughter should be either. So at first he sat under that table with me (if you ever saw the size of my dad you would know this was quite an achievement) chatting about the storm and explaining all that caused it, then after a few storms he held me in his arms by the window to watch the amazing display of lightning. I still buried my head in his shoulder each time the thunder clapped though. Gradually I became a little less frightened and although I wasn't keen I didn't dive for cover any more. We often watched storms together, not that they happened often. 

I lost my Dad when I was still very young but I remember the first storm after he died. I saw the lightning and I rushed to the window. I suddenly felt like I was close to my Dad again and I knew that he would never let anything hurt me so any fear I still had disappeared. I actually started to go outside in storms which caused my mother to remonstrate with me that I may not be scared anymore but I wasn't invincible and that I should be sure to stay away from trees!

Nowadays thunderstorms are just exciting things to be enjoyed. I love all weather except strong winds, they terrify me. Rain I adore. As everyone else is diving for cover I am rushing out of the door. There is nothing more perfect than a walk in the rain. Everywhere is so quiet, everything smells so fresh and positively shines. If you look in the puddles you can sometimes see the footprints as the fairies dance in them. Some people think I am mad but most of the friends I have made over the years have given me a long suffering look, donned waterproofs and come with me Some have even grown to love it! 

The best time to enjoy the rain is in the summer. I often slip off my shoes and go dancing in the garden in heavy rain. I recommend everyone tries it. It is the most wonderful feeling. The rain is so refreshing and the feeling of the damp grass between your toes is heaven. My husband used to think I was mad and suggest I came in. These days he just laughs though he does insist I wear pumps in thunderstorms because, like Mum, he thinks I'm not invincible. But Dad and I, well we know different!