Tag: childhood

All About A Boy

If you’ve been following my blog, you will know that T has a best-friend named F.  I’ve mentioned him countless times here.  He is an important little person in my daughter’s life, in our life, especially since we have now become good friends too with his family.  I’ve never shown his face before out of respect for S and C (his parents).   But this time, I’ve asked permission from them to post the following photos just to show you how adorable this little V.I.P in my daughter’s life is.  He is the cutest little boy in the world.  Yes, I’m biased.  But hey, this is my blog!

They first met at play-group (children under 2) and bonded over trains and cars.  T and F loves trains and cars.  I don’t really remember when exactly she declared that he was her best-friend, what I know is she started saying this after her second birthday.

The first photo was taken  on T’s second birthday.  F is just about a month older than T.  This was after her party.

And this was taken on T’s third birthday.  See how much they’ve grown?  We took them out to celebrate on an impromptu birthday picnic and steam-train-ride.  I wrote about that on this post.

Waiting for the steam-train to take us back to Launceston.  Aren’t’ they loveliest little BFFs?

They are so good together.  Don’t get me wrong, like all best-friends they also have their moments.  You would hear T suddenly burst into tears and hear a little protest from F, sometimes it escalates but most times, you’ll hear them laughing.  And F takes care of T, like really looks after her.  One time, I wasn’t with them.  They were out with F’s parents at the Farm shop.  T and F were playing outside and there was one bigger and older boy who didn’t want T to play in the toy tractor.  T burst into tears and when F saw this, he came bounding up, my husband was too far so he didn’t hear what F said to the big boy.  But the bully backed down and and let T in.  They also like to play “saving-each-other”.  T plays a very good damsel-in-distress, when she needs “saving” F would come up to her with his “strong-big-hands” and save her.  And she’d do the same for him, though admittedly, he does most of the “saving”.

I’m wondering though how long it will last.  When do boys start ‘hating’ girls and vice-versa?  Who knows?  They might  just skip that stage and just be friends… always.  Wouldn’t that be nice?

This post is linked-up with PODcast’s What’s they Story.

And The Oliver’s Madhouse

What about you?  Do you remember your first best-friend?

Two of Us

Two of us riding nowhere
Spending someone’s
Hard earned pay
Two of us Sunday driving
Not arriving
On our way back home
We’re on our way home
We’re on our way home
We’re going home …

You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead …

 -Two of us, Beatles

This is T’s and Doc’s first walk together.

It was only till the end of the road,

because he has yet to have his jabs

which is scheduled a few weeks from now.

T and Doc will grow up together.

Isn’ that the loveliest thought?

This post is linked-up with PODcast’s What’s the Story?

And The Oliver’s Madhouse

Hope everyone in the UK have not been affected much in last night’s storm.

As for the rest of you guys, have a great week ahead of you!

Level Three Heatwave (and more photos)

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The MET office issued a level three heatwave warning in England last week. The hottest temperature was recorded at 32 Celsius in Heaththrow, when I told my mom about the warning and how “hot” it was, she laughed. Then again, the last time I was back home in the Philippines – December 2010 (yes, that long ago =( My husband and I chuckled when we heard them mention in the news how “cold” it was in Baguio, a lovely city up in the mountains – it was about 8 degrees Celsius. No, the PAGASA didn’t issue a warning in the area.

Anyway, that heatwave is gone this week. It’s still a bit warm(ish), but we’re lucky down here in the coast, we always have a cool breeze blowing even during the so-called heatwave.  Not entirely sure if that sums up our whole summer here in England.  If it does, we were lucky we had such glorious weather for two consecutive weeks.  My daughter is browner, (though being half-British, she will never be as brown as me).  We’ve had as much fun in the sun as we could, like I mentioned, going down into harbour at low-tide to play at a little patch of beach on the sea-bed, in just her knickers.  What more can a little girl and little boy want?  Here are more photos –

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T with her best-friend.

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Keeping their little found-treasures from the beach “safe” from the water and yes, that’s my shadow.

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Can you see how happy they are?

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That look on her face is priceless!

Yes, it is beautiful here.

Sigh

and this time,

it is a happy sigh.

Cold Days and Warm Memories

Just when I think that summer is here, the cold is biting again.  Yes, I know I keep moaning about the cold.  You’d think by now I’d be used to it.  Most of the time actually, I am.  But there are days when it seeps through your bones and stays there.  And the past few days have been like that – It feels like you have a perpetual chill.  It is chilly, as opposed to freezing.  It’s the breeze from the Atlantic that makes it cold.  At night, the wind howls like a wounded animal.  T said to me this morning, I’m scared of the wind Mommy.  I don’t blame her, sometimes it scares me too, I imagine the roof being ripped off from our house.  But this is Cornwall, not Oklahoma (my prayers are with the families affected by the recent tornado), and nothing like that happens here.

Some days I want to run away from the cold.  I long for the heat of the sun.  Instead I dive down deep within the recesses of my mind and unearth some memories…

Here I am standing under the heat of the African sun, while waiting for a shared-taxi on a dusty road in Tamale, Ghana.  The sun is high up in the sky, in full force with all its glory.  Its heat grazes my skin, I feel beads of sweat appearing on my forehead now and feel my white top begin to cling on my back.  I squint through the heat and try to hail a passing taxi, but it is full.  After a few minutes, one stops in front of me and I say to the driver “Al Haji Sumani Mosque?”  He nods.  I squeeze in beside a woman and her baby who is clasped on her back and two other men.  We give each other a weary smile.

Here’s another one:  This time I am a child, around ten perhaps and together with my cousins, we are lying on the roof in my maternal grandparents house by the side of the railroad.  It is summer and very hot.  Occasionally a breeze would blow, an older cousin tells me “Whistle Inge, the wind will only come if you whistle”.  So I try to whistle, but my attempts are pathetic and my cousins laugh. It is warm, but we are happy and later, we will all go down into the kitchen and there will be cold drinks and snacks waiting for us.  But of course, none of that is happening right now.  My hands are cold as I type on the bed with my mac on my lap and legs seeking warmth under the duvet.  I can hear the wind, ominous and over-bearing I actually want to scream for it to stop.

If you look outside our kitchen window you will see this:

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A short trellis of beautiful white flowers, looking at the picture now I feel a shadow of a smile form on my face.  Those flowers reminds me of a promise that summer is indeed coming.  My hands are cold … my husband offers me a mug of hot tea, which I gratefully accept and know that it will warm me even for awhile.