Girly pink days
A few years ago my eldest daughter had a bullet journal. At the end of each day, she had to colour in a square to show how good or otherwise her day had been. The best days had to be coloured pink. Ever since then, both of my girls describe great days as pink days. And without doing a whole lot, we just had a pink weekend.
While Mr D was away with his friends, it was just us three girls. We enjoyed TV programmes and films that Dad wouldn’t be so keen on. We cooked food that’s not really his favourite. Taylor Swift was the soundtrack. On repeat. We didn’t do a whole lot other than spending some lovely Mum and daughters time together.
The girls decided they wanted a milkshake. Our options were either a café in town that charges a fiver a go (which is the total of their weekly pocket money and not very palatable. It also hasn’t risen with inflation, and maybe I should consider that…?). Or, a farm down the road that has a cabin (Kibblecote Dairy Milk Cabin) with the freshest, tastiest milk. We chose there. And not only because I was now paying (although I was, and it only cost me £1 a go – win!), but because it was wonderful to wander down a country lane and enjoy being outside for what, finally, was starting to feel like summer approaching.
After rising early on Saturday to walk the eldest Miss D to work, I sat on the patio with a cuppa. To be outside was lush. I’m sure normally, I first to do this in March or April, and it feels late coming this year. For all the travelling and exploring I love to do, my own back yard on an English sunny day is one of my favourite places to be. In my big egg chair (the very best present I bought myself), I listen to birds tweeting, lawn mowers and hedge trimmers starting, youth football teams cheering. The simple sounds of spring. I start to potter. I release the pressure from the water butt that is fit to bursting from all of the recent rain. I pull weeds out of pots that have formed over the winter and take a good look around the garden that needs a lot of work.
The French lavender looks lovely, the wisteria and bluebells are just tipping over. The summer is trying its best to cut through. When we’re in Spain, even if it’s a bit nippy, we sit outside. Maybe because that’s our only option, but I think it’s more than that, it’s a lifestyle choice. Over here, it takes a sunny day to make me want to sit in my own back yard. And yet when I do, it’s heaven.
There’s a Harry Styles concert and festivals on the horizon and the girls wanted to buy their outfits. After a lengthy hair washing and straightening session (them, not me), we head out. We mooch in second hand stores and independent shops that sell weird earrings and feather boas. We go to Primark and spend what feels like days in there before I call time and beg for some freedom. We wander in the sun back to the car and talk about our plans for the summer and beyond. They are amazing kids with exciting plans. I feel a giant swell of pride at the ladies they’re becoming.
We drive back to home comforts; a homemade casserole, roast potatoes, a comfy sofa, another girly film. A much needed bit of R&R in advance of some busy weeks and weekends ahead. In some respects we didn’t do whole lot this weekend, which makes writing a blog about what you get up to on a weekend fairly tricky! In other respects we did so much wholesome stuff. We did all of our usual errands and weekend classes, but the surround sound was pottering around home, largely outside, slowly enjoying our girly pink days together.
Comments