Life of Ryrie

Adventures in family life


Love Somerset

Running not walking

I have a funny story to tell you. At the old-enough-to-know-better age of 43, I have sustained a running injury.  Actually, that’s not the funny bit.  The funny part is that I have started running.   Continue reading “Running not walking”

Little Bear’s Space Adventures

Ah, English Summer Fetes. What a beautifully eclectic variety of weekend entertainment. From the gently frustrating Hook-a-Duck, the aggression venting Splat-the-Rat, the pocket fleecing raffle (none of the prizes you actually want to win but you still buy a mass of tickets anyway) and the Teddy Bear Rocket Launcher. All the old favourites. But, wait, what was that? Teddy Bear Rocket launcher??? Yes. Yes, my friends, you read that correctly. There is a new stall in the village (well the neighbouring one to be precise) where your child’s teddy gets the opportunity of a lifetime – to become an astronaut. Yes. I know. Continue reading “Little Bear’s Space Adventures”


The night was cold and frosty,

There’s no more to tell.

(A Frosty Night by Robert Graves)

Carry On, Campers

The first time I ever went camping was to Glastonbury Festival with an ex-boyfriend and his mates.  It was an eye-opening experience for the young and innocent 18 year old that I was.

The last time I went camping it was also to Glastonbury Festival: it was the year that Coldplay was headlining (for the second time) and I didn’t really like them much way back then; it was the year that lightning struck the Pyramid Stage and halted proceedings for a matter of hours; the year hundreds of festival goers had their tents and belongings washed away in a scene of devastation comparable only to the Apocalypse (perhaps).  Our tent had only survived as it was pitched on a rather steep incline which meant that the deluge of water raining down on the site simply didn’t hang around long enough to cause a problem.  The steep incline also meant that if you happened to fall asleep (fairly unlikely given that it was Glastonbury Festival) you would most definitely wake in a ball at one end of the tent.

Clearly these experiences have left their mark and whilst I wasn’t an enthusiastic camper before the great storm of 2005, after it I was decidedly anti spending any time in a shelter made of nylon fibres.  Last weekend though, I went camping.

Continue reading “Carry On, Campers”



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