But love and years are not for sale, In our old house on the lake

The fire is lit, my sister is saying 'really, can't you put the phone down?'...oh, now I've told her I'm blogging not working, she's changed her tune and says 'Hi everyone!'.

Never go camping with your siblings when you're adults and have dependents. Campfire stories are a whole new kind of horror. I swear there isn't a thing about our childhood John now doesn't know. Including that she once discovered I had worn her underwear. thanks, Sis!


Anyway, apart from that, the tents are great, not like camping too much - just enough. Outdoors is right there, but indoors is dry and cosy and big enough to stand up in.

We've enjoyed the outdoors - walking and canoeing and clambering through trees.

Been a bit wet today, so we went on a steam train ride and then a boat trip. All sort of indoors - well, we had a roof over our head, anyway. If we wanted it.

I do feel sorry for the general public who stumble upon us all unexpectedly...

Old lady, to Sherlock, who has his chin on the rail of the boat and is staring into the water: "Are you looking for fish, dear? Have you seen any yet?"

Sherlock: "No, looking for dead bodies and I haven't seen one yet but Lestrade says there probably are some."*

*I did not say this, exactly. I said, in answer to his question, that there had probably been dead bodies in there at some time in history.

Anyway, she looked shocked and managed to stutter out a 'Good!'.

And it's been a YEAR since John forgot to run away and found himself swept along on the tide of life and somehow saying 'I do' to a registrar.

An amazing year. An amazing few years, but this last one has really been amazing. I need a word other than amazing here, don't I? But it is - has been - will keep on being, if we have our way!

Camping just always makes me think of John asking me to marry him. I...very much didn't expect it. Even though I'd sort of...well, wanted to do it myself, sometimes, I don't know, it's hard to explain.

Being here just brings it all home, anyway, the change - the difference in me. From all those years when I didn't want to see Nicky because I was embarrassed at what my life had become, to now, when we're all here, on holiday, and I'm proud of everything - the boys, John, I'm proud and happy and I want to share all that.


Right now, I'll share this, with you.

If I could only, I could only fly, I'd drift with them in endless space

So I've obviously bored everyone to death by moping about feeling sorry for myself for being here, and o counteract that, there's been a concerted effort in my inbox today to cheer me up.

Sherlock sent me a picture of John asleep in bed (John probably doesn't know that yet) with Maf wrapped around his head so her tail looks like he's grown an unfortunate beard.

Or maybe he's grown an unfortunate beard.

Then Jo sent me this, of Tadhg.

Come on everybody Let your spirits be free

Yesterday I got home, had a large moustache drawn upon me, went and got dressed in my leather jacket, jeans, boots, uniform cap and aviators, then came down and snuck up on John and sang this at him:



He only just survived being danced around the kitchen. He looked as if he was about to choke to death as he snorted with laughter and tried to tell me to sod off so he could finish making the tea.

Anyway, today...

We'll dance until we die, Wanna go out every night

I'm writing this, lying on the bed, with a glass of champagne on one side of me, and my husband on the other, in Paris.

Yup. Paris.

A short bike ride, a short train ride, a short bike ride....and we've gone from London to Paris!

On the way down from Calais we stopped at some war graves. Had some quiet time to think.

Also stopped near a little village and ate our lunch on a bench overlooking a stream - idyllic! Got bothered by some French ducks (they seem to speak the same language as English ducks. But prefer a better quality of bread.)

We did some of the journey on main roads, some on smaller roads that run parallel. It was great - and there was no rush. Then managed to get lost a few times in Paris itself, but it's quite nice getting lost - you find some lovely parts of the city! And you can generally see enough of a landmark to re-orientate yourselves, anyway.

We called home - Mrs Holmes was there with the boys. Mycroft commented that Paris had a very interesting sewage/water system. Sherlock then asked what was interesting about it... we suggested they could talk to each other instead of using us as intermediateries! So sorry, Mrs Holmes, if your dinner conversation was entirely about foreign sewer systems.

So...we've got so much we could do and see! We've both agreed that we have to go up the Eiffel Tower. Probably late one afternoon, and stay up until it's dark. Or we'll just go up twice, as it's open until Midnight... but tomorrow there might be lightning, apparently...so maybe not then ;)

I'd also like to take John up the Pompidou :) (there's a bar at the top!). And there's other things, but you'll hear about them, no doubt, as we go. Anyone has any very particular recommendations, don't keep them to yourselves.

Here's a picture of our room, and one from the top of the hotel, n the little roof terrace.

Our very Parisian view from our room.

Our very Parisian view from our roof.

Merci, John. J'adore tu!

Bonne Nuit tout le monde!*

*there is no guarantee anything written in Franglais for the next few days is vaguely correct, or even what I intended to say.

One day to come together, To release the pressure

I've been right down in the dumps recently. I don't know how John manages to go from dealing with me to dealing with Sherlock without it sending him around the twist.

Canoeing was great, the kids got really stuck in, no one was too scared/didn't want to do it etc. and they all enjoyed every minute of it. Lots of them wanted to go again, soon. Even thought it was on the river, the current was very gentle, but you could tell we were coming back faster than we paddled out! Only a few people needed rescuing when they got caught up on river bank weeds or went the wrong way around and panicked.

In other news that ought to have me happier than it seems to have managed, the guy from the other week went down for fifteen years. So...well, it never seems enough, frankly. But there we go.

So... apparently the kids are planning a holiday for us - our kids and Nicky's. Emails have been sent back and forth, text messages have been buzzing. At some point I imagine we'll be told what to pay for... it will doubtless be the craziest holiday ever. We old folk will just be along for the ride.

I'm off for the next two days, which will ben nice, and very welcome. John and I need to get going on some running, if we're going to manage this half marathon.

Thunder drowns out what the lightning sees

Tomorrow, Mrs N informs me, I will be getting wet. She told me to bring plenty of clothes...although hopefully none of the kids will take a dip! I imagine some of them will need pulling onto dry land, or hoiking out of their canoes etc. though. Anyway, I have plenty of shorts and t-shirts in a bag. And spare boxers, obviously!

I just wish John could come too.

Sherlock is very excited. Like, still awake, despite us needing to be at school early tomorrow! He is at least in his room now, supposedly having quiet time...

Mycroft and I cooked, and Sherlock and John ate, and everyone was happy, so that's good!

Jo and Lisa sent us a picture of little Tadhg, and he's very lovely and small and wrinkly.

Sherlock is taking this year's transition to the big class very well. I think he's quite looking forward to being one of the oldest in the school. Mycroft has taken to work in an exemplary fashion. He's already working shifts without the owner, and impressing everyone in the process. He joins us in sampling a bottle of wine now and again too, so that's another area where his knowledge is growing.

We went to the allotment today, did some more weeding (it never ends) and pondered why our french beans are all a bit...oddly shapen (Mary says it's because we water 'irregularly'). Sherlock is drawing us up a watering rota, as he does not appreciate misshapen beans. She also says our blueberry needs more acidic soil. Ericaceous compost is our best bet...so we'll have to get some, see if it does the trick.

after tomorrow, Sherlock is home for 6 long weeks...for the duration, I think John will also need watering regularly.

For absolutely no reason, except that it has given me a post title, have a picture of a tiny tortoise wearing a raspberry on its shell.

The policemen they're acting so tough.

The missing criminal, I'm glad to say, has been apprehended. He tried to leave the country, but for once, happily, someone was actually watching at the port, and they nabbed him. It's not often our ports are really watched, but hey, worked this time.

Sherlock has discovered that there is some form of school trip in the offing, to celebrate the end of term. I think there are options, but he has firmly chosen some sort of water-based adventure. He wants to go sailing, but as far as John's investigative work has gone, it seems to be canoeing that he'll actually do. He'll still love it, because his lust for life is insatiable, which is something to be seen. And envied, on occasion.

He found this earlier, and eagerly showed me when I got home. I wonder what we'll do that lasts that long...not much. It does make me wish, sometimes, that I made things, instead of....whatever it is that I do.

It's bloody hot here at the moment. Hot and sticky and generally unpleasant. But they say storms are in the offing, maybe at the weekend. Let's hope so. John says as much as he's watering the allotment every day it's still looking a bit droopy.

I was going to take tomorrow off, but now I've got court for the scrote we picked up. So I might take a bit of next week off instead. And then, shockingly, it's the summer holidays and there will be hours and hours of Sherlock to entertain. And we haven't even thought about a holiday yet.

Jess is two tomorrow. We haven't seen her and Rach for ages.