Unicorn bedding

unicorn bedding

I love, love LOVE the summer hols. I hide the clock along with the routine until September. Mondays become fundays: a chance to have an adventure or crash on the sofa and stay in PJ’s. Trifle for breakfast? Fill your boots! Ice cream at 5 o’clock, just before tea? Why not?

And, at some point, I intend to start work writing the next chapter of my book …

Our diet is mostly sandwich-based the Smalls and I are ninja picnic assemblers. I’ve subcontracted sandwich production to Small1, his Nutella and Crunchy Nut Cornflake filling was surprising but not completely unpleasant.

And, at some point, I need to start my training for the Cardiff Half Marathon which is looming on the horizon. Next week, definitely.

Summer holidays are made for the beach. Our favourite is Coppet Hall or maybe North Beach or is it Priory Bay, I can’t make my mind up, we’re spoilt for choice. D’you know, there over 121 beaches in Pembrokeshire? Which gives us roughly three to visit every day of the holidays! That’s an awful lot of damp, sandy towels to wash.

Yesterday, I managed to write a whole paragraph, the effort of it made my head hurt, it was exhausting. I made a pile of notes on ‘what happens next’ so that I wouldn’t forget and lose my train of thought, but it got so hot we had to evacuate to the beach (again) (Manorbeir for a change). It was late when we got home, much too late for a run and it looked like thunder…

To be honest, we don’t care what the weather’s up to. Wind, gales even, mean bigger waves for body boarding and it would be boring if it was sunny all the time. Rain’s a great excuse to break out the Pritt stick and sequins so Small2 can spend hours gluing things into egg boxes.

“I’m not gluing today,” Small2 announced. “I’m making things. Look I’ve made a unicorn bed!” She held up an egg box stuffed with bits of shredded paper and a plastic unicorn (horn missing) nestled in the middle.

“Great!” I said as she told me to be quiet, the unicorn was sleeping. “Well, he’s a good sleeper if he can snooze through this storm!” Outside, a flash of lightening illuminated the patio umbrella tumbling past the window. The crack of thunder made Small2 jump, spilling shredded ‘unicorn bedding’ everywhere. Trying to beat the imminent outpouring of grief, I scrambled about on the floor retrieving the ‘bedding’. On the back of the first two pieces were the handwritten words ‘What happens next’.

I excavated my trainers from the sand dune in the hall, delegated child care to Daddy and started my training for the Cardiff Half.

I'm off running


Need a gripping read for your summer hols? Why not immerse yourself in The House With Old Furniture. Set in the beautiful Pembrokeshire countryside. The ghosts of a century’s worth of secrets and betrayals are coming home to Pengarrow…

"an intriguing and original mix" Lorraine, Mslexia Readers Forum

The House With Old Furniture

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