With the prospect of a Littlehampton Day beckoning, I text My Boy to ask for ideas on what my (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys would consider a picnic par excellence.
You may be wondering why I don't know, being their Nanna, but I have found that young’uns change their minds where things like breakfast cereal and sandwich fillings are concerned. I don't want to get it wrong, not when
the weekend is so short. I must be Picnic Perfect.
My Boy, despite being at work, manages to text me back with a list of picnic ingredients notable for its attention
to detail. I am excited to note that his list will inevitably take me into aisles at the supermarket which I do not usually frequent. It is the same story when his sister, the Middle of the Darling Daughters, sends me shopping. Mostly for ingredients I have
never purchased, can't spell and am not sure how to pronounce, should I need to seek assistance from one of those annoying staff collecting goods for on-line shoppers. Actually, to be fair to them, they always know exactly which aisle, which shelf I need.
According to My Boy’s list, he, James and Morgan would all like “nice ham” in their sandwiches. This sends me into a right old tizzy. I mean when is ham
“nice” and when is it, well, nasty? Should it be wafer thin? Or thick sliced? Crumbed? Or not? Oh, how I dither over my choice. I'm still not sure the ham I have bought is sufficiently “nice” but I dare say the proof of the pudding
(aka the ham) is in the eating.
I have been preparing for this visit all week, setting myself one bedroom to prepare each day. So why did there still seem to be
so much still to be done today?
My (Not So Very Little) Welsh Boys are hot on tradition. This means they will insist on playing two games before breakfast
( mini fruit and nut Weetabix - My Boy was very specific on this). I have raided the games cupboard and selected a variety of board games which I trust will suit everyone from ten year old Sam to five year old Morgan. I'm hoping they won't want to play “What's
Rubbish”, which is quite the most environmentally worthy game ever and just as boring as it sounds. The boys, however, love it. I prefer “Tummy Ache” myself which involves planning a meal devoid of nasty creatures like bugs and beetle juice.
You can imagine it appeals to such as I, who is, as you well know, Always Thinking Of My Stomach.
Talking of food, I have booked a table for the seven of us at
The Golden Lion on Sunday lunchtime so that we can have a proper celebration of Father’s Day for the two fathers in our party - Mr B and his boy. The rest of us will just go along for the food…
I have even found time to organise a Garden Hunt with a Difference to keep Sam, James and Young Morgan occupied tomorrow morning while we are preparing our picnic (“nice” ham and all.) I shamelessly stole
this idea from my friend, the Lovely Linda (she of the Birdy Group and Crafty Afternoons.) Around the back garden I have hidden twenty items which you would not usually expect to find in a garden - some are up high, some nearer the ground. I will be fascinated
to see how long it takes my clever threesome to find them all. I have written myself an aide-memoire in case nobody manages to spot the tape measure, the ladybird timer and the phone charger - and I forget where I have hidden them.
It's 9 p.m. Sometime soon, our visitors will arrive. The boys, tired out from the journey, will be carried up straightaway to their waiting beds - I know better than to excite them
with hugs and kisses and promises of fun to come. Plenty of time for that tomorrow. When the boys are settled, we will sit down with a glass of wine so that the travellers can unwind after their long journey. We will chat about this and that, but remind each
other that there will be plenty of time to share all our news and gossip over the coming weekend.
And so to bed. With all the promise of the weekend to come.
We will have SUCH fun!