Aye, not very Enid Blyton. Four people go off on holiday and nothing dramatic, dangerous or unexpected happened. Came home to find nothing disturbed, broken or stolen. Where's the story in that?
So, the holiday's over. Our week at Cravendale Hall, home of the twice-filtered crazy plastic cows and ancestral home of Lord and Lady CravenTory has come to an end. Not much to say about it really that hasn't already been covered in the Blipfoto posts but I suppose I can post some more pictures here to illustrate the general twee-ness and wean-good-timey-ness of the whole thing.
So, there you are. A selection of photies with the really crap ones filtered out. What's missing is photos of Ellen sleeping in a big bed for the first time. But then I'd need photos of her refusing to lie down in her big bed, repeatedly getting out of the big bed, needing to be taken back to the big bed, coming throught a half six now that she can et out of the big bed. Needless to say but she's back in her cot now we're home.
And the last day of the hols is rainy! Dammit. Nothing else to do but put away all the camping stuff, repair the wee hole that appeared in Ewan's thermarest and package up all the CDs to be shipped off to Music Magpie. Not great prices but very convenient.
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