27th September

I posted this picture from last weekend to Flickr and my sister, the girls Great-Aunt Jean commented,

I can see the influence of Honey magazine circa 1972!

I could see exactly what she meant.

Martha wears jersey cotton nightie, Ballerina by Cath Kidston. Unicorn wellies from Sainsburys. Evie wears jersey cotton nightie, Spray of Flowers by Cath Kidston. Wellies, model's own.

Photographs by Granny. Shot on location at Murlough Bay, County Antrim.

25th September

Three months until Christmas *shiver*.

Anyway, it's not here yet and the last 64 haven't been that hideous, except maybe for a couple. But, that's another story.

We got back from our little camping break in Murlough Bay yesterday but we did not return home in the vehicle we left in. Instead, we returned in the car of  Martha and Evie's Great Uncle Joe. And a great uncle he certainly is - a great brother too for rescuing us from Ballycastle. Joe is a mechanic and came all prepared to fix the van or tow it home, not realising that it wasn't our regular van. Had it been a London bus he might well have sorted it but not a vintage camper with automatic transmission. Not his area of expertise. Nevertheless, it was great to be rescued even if we had to leave the camper in a garage forecourt. And speaking of garage forecourts, many thanks to Mr Sheskburn* who was kind enough to tell us not to worry and that we could pick up the van whenever it suited us.

That turned out to be today. Our regular mechanic and friend arranged a tow for us (Mate's Rates) and Bert went down to meet the guy in Ballycastle. Of course, the damned thing started at the first turn of the key. This was after he'd paid him too. Sensibly, Bert decided to let it be towed anyway as it was perfectly likely that it might have died again two miles up the road.

Hopefully, Ernie will get her back on the road before winter sets in and we'll get another wee jaunt in her before Christmas. Ugh! That's just where I came in. Still, I'm an optimist. I'll look forward to Boxing Day, my favourite holiday of the year - the one where it's a whole 364 days to Christmas.

Picture totally nothing to do with the post unless I hark back to the doggy stories I told Bert and the girls on Saturday night. Bert reckoned Judy is eight and Jess seven. Nelly's Garden says no.

Judy turned seven this summer.

 Judy, August 2010

Jess will be five in November.

Jess, December 2012

*Mr Sheskburn - I actually called him that to his face. He said, 

No. It's McNeill.

It was only later on that evening that I realised that Sheskburn was the name of the river that runs through Ballycastle.

24th September

Camping at Murlough Bay was wonderful. Before we went we had supper from Morton's Fish and Chip shop. As always, it was a long wait so while Bert queued Martha, Evie and Granny went to the nearby playground. This was followed by a visit to Morelli's for four ice cream cones. Yummy. Then time to go to our camping site before it got too dark.

While I sorted out the sleeping arrangements Bert and the girls took a walk.

Evie only needed carrying for a few moments. Far more fun to be had on the ground.

They were away for ages and by the time they got back it was time for teeth brushing and on with the Cath Kidston nighties. The young misses are posh campers. Storytime next. I had to tell a lot of stories from real life. Most of them were about dogs. Bert wasn't a lot of help. Occasionally he'd fill in a missing detail. He mostly listened and I've been told he enjoyed my tales as much as the girls. Eventually, they began to drift off which was just as well as, not only was I getting hoarse, I was also running out of suitable stories. I'd foolishly remarked to Bert that the only story I hadn't told them was the one about the nights he'd spent in the cave in Marseilles and that they'd need to be at least twelve before they heard that one - whereupon Evie started to howl, crying that she wanted to hear the story about the cave in Marseilles. So, the absolute last story of the night was That Time Bert Slept In The Cave Near Marseilles.

Of course, I completely removed the part about the paranormal attack and replaced it with a sort of Princess and the Pea treatment involving buried treasure and it went down a treat. They can hear the scary version when they're older. Of course, knowing Evie she'll be sceptical. This morning, she was telling me the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden and she was scathing about 'talking animals'. I think she meant the snake.

The camper van was a little cramped for four but it was lovely to watch the dawn break over the sea. We weren't paying that much attention to time but it might have been after nine o'clock that we set off for the beach while Bert snatched some extra sleepy-time.

The girls on the Game of Thrones trail still wearing their Cath Kidston nightdresses. Murlough Bay was used as a filming location for at least three episodes of the show.

After that walk, we returned to the van and the girls had a second helping of cereal, some thorough teeth brushing and a perfunctory wash before dressing for the second walk of the day. This time they took Bert to visit the bothy where the evil witch lived, the cave with her captured and chained baby dragon and the twelve, very vicious flying monkeys. I enjoyed a coffee and a read of my book and after about an hour I wondered what was keeping them. I went out to see. And met them coming back.

They'd found another beach, a secret one beyond the little cottage and would I like to see it? I would. Bert was exhausted so he went back to the van. The witch was dead, vanquished by a magic spell involving a red bucket and some magic stones so we didn't have to tiptoe going past the bothy. The flying monkeys were back in the zoo, and the baby dragon had been freed.

And the secret beach was delightful.

We played on it for ages.

That land mass on the horizon is The Mull of Kintyre.

The girls are very good at climbing mountains.

Building a stone house for a woodlouse. Her name was Alice. Alice Wood. Get it?

As we wandered back I was informed that a new witch had moved into the bothy and that the flying monkeys were back. When this witch goes to the Spar for her groceries her broomstick is parked in the air above the shop so as not to arouse suspicion. When we passed her home Martha peeked in and said she was eating her dinner. What was she having? Two roast children (Martha said) with an accompaniment of slugs and boiled grass (Evie said). 

The way out of Murlough Bay is very steep and winding and I said a prayer that the old van would make it and my prayer was answered. Perhaps I should have looked a bit further ahead as she broke down on us as we came into Ballycastle. But that's another story.

**SPOILER**

There was a happy ending.