PUBLISHED: 11:11 05 May 2015 | UPDATED: 11:11 05 May 2015
Although I love the arrival of spring, I am always grateful that the spring term does not involve any children’s birthday parties in our household. My duties as a children’s party organiser run from August until December.
Last year, my eldest son and daughter’s respective birthday parties both took place in between the arrival of our youngest daughter and Christmas. Safe to say, the celebrations really took the wind out of my sails, though I am slightly embarrassed to admit to this. It is not as if I am exactly running a global enterprise, though I can tell you sometimes it doesn’t half feel like it.
I recall a London mum rolling her eyes about her son’s preferred choice of a birthday party. He wanted to have an iPad party whereby all of his friends would not interact with each other, rather sit in a circle on the floor shouting something nonsensical from time to time. It sounds like a scary party from the future and while my friend was sane enough not to indulge her son’s whim, I did think of her a few weeks later when we were invited to the launch of the Sky Go app at The Soho hotel. It was the most tremendous kids party complete with mini burgers, endless iPads, cupcakes, flowing Coca Cola and best of all, the Ben 10 character Ultimate Humungasaur made a surprise appearance. My son was absolutely mesmerised — this was the best party ever!
I look back at the memory of that party fondly. Outings like that one really put a gloss on life in London, although those sorts of moments were few and far between. The reality of raising children in London was more chasing my older two down the streets on their scooters, yelling at them to slow down while testing the suspension of my trusty old Maclaren buggy — less wafting around chic children’s parties eating canapés.
I invariably find myself missing London at this time of year. Add baby hormones and sleep deprivation to the mix and it makes for a spot of confusion. Cue a circular conversation about missing London, a vague threat to move back, followed by the realisation that this is never going to work or happen. Plainly speaking, is it possible to want to live in two places at once?
Fast forward to April, when like a turncoat I am waxing lyrical about the joys of living in the countryside and by May I hear myself saying who would ever live in a city? Self indulgent twaddle aside, I am sure that the seasons affect us more as adults; I don’t ever remember feeling put out by the cold as a child. In fact I have happy memories of spending hours in the Cornish sea whereas now even the thought of dipping one toe in the freezing Atlantic waters makes me shiver. One thing is for sure; the birds have got it right. Migrating to the sun for the winter months has got to be the answer.
The majestic purple brown winter hue of the surrounding farm fields has been replaced by a verdant green and the garden is preparing to bloom. Winter doesn’t last for long; blink and you have missed it.