On Saturday the football season finishes. Well not really. In fact, all you football haters out there will be disappointed to know that the Championship (which Brighton are in) has another week after this Saturday. It’s just that we’re away so I’m not going. Then the Premiership finishes a bit later and we have the FA Cup Final, the Champions League final and the playoffs. Then it’s Euro 2012 which will go on for some considerable time though not if you’re an England fan or player. Then there’s football in the Olympics. I think there will be friendlies in July and then, in August, the domestic season will start again.
So you see, the season never really stops. What I mean about this coming Saturday is that it will stop for ME. It will be the last time I go to the Amex and watch my beloved Super Seagulls and cheer and drink Harvey’s and fart a lot until August. Except the farting bit. I’ll still probably do that.
This frees up each and every weekend for Family Time.
We didn’t do much “going out” family time last summer what with Baby being still very small and us being still very knackered. We’re still knackered but she’s bigger. I vaguely remember the boy at this age and if my memory serves me correctly you need to be equipped roughly like this to cope with all eventualities
Even that may not be enough eyes and arms. Baby, as I may have mentioned is just a teeny bit more adventurous than the Boy was.
For a start she considers herself a mermaid and any body of water she sees as a bath for her to dive in to. She has to be variously chided, reigned in or scooped up every time we go to the beach before she embarks on a world record attempt for toddler-swimming the Channel. One of our local attractions is Drusillas and they have an open air penguin pool. That’s off the list then. I am not rescuing her from a giant bath full of penguin poo.
She’s also learning to talk at the moment. Quite well really. However one word she struggles with is ‘horse’ which is a shame as she’s aces at recognising them. Specifically she points at them and yells ‘WHORE!” at the top of her voice. So farms are probably out.
Then there’s the Brighton Pier . Ooops. Water again. *imagines Baby tombstoning*
Maybe the Brighton Wheel? Nope. She’s a fantastic climber. Bound to be seen as a challenge that. *imagines buying tiny toddler size crampons*
Pub lunches? I wouldn’t put it past her to outdrink the visiting Bikers and start a fight.
In fact the safest place for her might just be the football. Roll on August.
(N.B. not really of course. I’m sure we will visit all these places and more during the summer, Sussex in the summer is actually my favourite place ever in the world and there’s loads and loads to do. But I will miss the football just a teensy bit.)