The Family Adventure Project

An early gap year for the kids?

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 08:30:00 +0000

There's a big wide world out there.. but are we ready to let them explore it?

Sending your kids off on a gap year is a rite of passage for any parent. The dramatic goodbye, the niggling irrational fear they'll get snatched, lost, robbed or pickled in alcohol. The hope they won't fall for an Aussie and want to relocate halfway across the world, mixed with the hope they won't boomerang straight back home afterwards with debt and dirty washing.

It's something I've been bracing myself for. But I have to admit I didn't expect my kids to be doing a gap year aged 6, 9 and 10.

Oh, did I say a gap year? Sorry I meant gap hour. But at the rate we're going we may just make it ten minutes, with us following them around like private detectives.

They're old enough to go it alone, aren't they?

For a change it's my idea: we should let them go a few years early.
“You know we're going to the Adventure Travel Show this weekend? Well if it's anything like the last travel show I went to, the whole world will be laid out in regions in one room. How cool would it be for the kids if we let them go off and explore the globe for an hour?”

At first Stuart is enthusiastic. “A mini version of a gap year, that's a good idea.” He instantly sees the opportunity for learning mixed with fun, but then the usual argument about freedom and risk starts to rear its well-travelled head. But this time our roles are reversed. I’m pushing for them to get out there on a big adventure while Stuart's more cautious.

What possible risks are there here?

But as usual we see things differently

I don't get it. This is a man who took the kids out cycling in the dark last week, on icy roads! “I'll admit conditions were challenging that night,” he says. “But they were challenging in a very controlled way. The children had day-glo yellow jackets on. They rode close with me as outrider to stop anything coming too close. We know those roads like the back of our hand. But sending them off around Olympia is a far more risky proposition.”

“Rubbish. They'll stay together. I'll give them a phone. We'll have a meeting point.”

“But they won't be with you. You can't control the risks. You can't spot the danger. Olympia is huge. You'll be somewhere having a latte and you won't have any idea what's going on.”

I mean how safe is this for example?

How come we don't see eye to eye on risk?

Ok, I'll admit the latte bit is true. But we never see eye to eye on risk. I love the outdoors and want my kids to be out there at every possible moment, but I'm also very conflicted about it. To me the big wide world is a dangerous beast that needs to be watched in case it gets ugly. As with many deep seated attitudes, this is rooted in childhood. I was a late starter when we came to the outdoors as my mother had a deep suspicion of anything that went higher than the ring road of Great Orme. Brought up a northern wuss, I still fear an icy path means a broken leg and bungee jumping is surely death on a rope. That doesn't mean I won't do these things, I just have a voice in my head that says 'suspicious item in the bagging area.'

If Stuart’s taking the kids out anywhere involving fresh air and a packed lunch I always try to give him a full briefing on not letting the children die. Of course I know he has their interests at heart as much as I do. He's experienced outdoors, has good skills, first aid training, can handle most water vessels and is generally a pretty responsible guy. But he will push them further to the edge than I ever would. And he’ll push them faster. I am up for risky stuff, but sometimes have to be talked into it, or have a coffee while I'm making up my mind.

He's always the one to push things that little but further and faster..

Should we or shouldn't we?

But an Adventure Travel Show? That's indoors isn't it? Nothing could possibly happen indoors where there's cushions instead of sharp bits, information instead of insects and electric lights instead of the sun and the rain. Who ever got lost in an electric light storm?

Stuart rolls his eyes. The gap hour shrinks and then expands as we continue to debate whether we should send our well travelled tribe off around the globe without us.

What will it be like when they are eighteen?

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Do you struggle to assess risks objectively? Do you have different views on risks to your partner? We'd love to hear your comments. Click comments below and tell us what you think.

Announcing our Family Adventure Capital Season

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 16:32:00 +0000

Image: Cumbria Tourism, Ben Barden. Sign: Steve Messam

Cumbria is the UK's Capital of Adventure. Or so it claims. But it's not just a claim, it’s a long term project which aims to attract outdoor, adventure-minded people to the county, give them world class opportunities to adventure when they get here, and encourage them to spend their dollars, pounds and euros while they're out and about.

But what does being an 'Adventure Capital' actually mean? And what can this iconic landscape that has inspired everything from poets to climbers, offer a wealth of diverse age groups with all their different needs and demands?

Over the next year we're on a mission to find out. And as a family oriented site, we'll be concentrating on what the UK's Adventure Capital can offer families. Yes that's everything from Granny to the newborns. No pressure then, Cumbria as we launch our Family Adventure Capital UK season!

The Cumbrian Fells? Family Adventure Capital UK?

We'll be chatting to adventure providers about what they do for a living, but also what they like to do for fun and bringing you their personal tips on the very best adventures for families visiting Cumbria.

We'll be talking to the people who came up with the initiative and those who are driving it through. We'll be finding out what they think an Adventure Capital is, what it takes to be one, why it matters and trying to unearth who the competition is.

Derwent Water Freezes - A once in a lifetime walk?

We'll be exploring how you can book your adventures, how easy it is to access them, how much value for money they offer and ultimately if they're any fun.

And of course we fully intend to have a go ourselves throughout the year, at activities we haven't tried before and a few of those we have, reporting back on what it's like to adventure in different ways.

To kick off the season, we'll be cycling across the county on the famous C2C (coast to coast) route during February, blogging about some of the people, places and passions we find along the way. We'll start with our toes in the Irish Sea and end with them in the North Sea which seems an adventurous enough proposition in the middle of winter even without the cycling in between.

On the fells, on the water, indoors, outdoors, the options are endless

Whether you're first time family adventurers, family adventure addicts or more inclined to adventure from your armchair, we'll be inviting you to get involved as the season develops.

Cumbria may have England's five tallest mountains and its deepest and largest lakes, it might even be the Adventure Capital of the UK; but we want to know is it the Family Adventure Capital?

Download Press Release about Family Adventure Capital Season

What would you like us to find out about Family Adventures in Cumbria?
Got any questions, suggestions, recommendations?
We'd love to hear from you. Click comments below and get typing.

Interview with Adventure Dad Charley Boorman

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 11:29:00 +0000

Adventure Rider and Dad Charley Boorman
Extreme Frontiers: Racing Across Canada from Newfoundland to the Rockies

In the second post of our Adventure Parents series, actor and TV presenter Charley Boorman explains how his upbringing shaped his lifelong sense of adventure. Charley is an enthusiastic and experienced world traveller and his passion for adventure can be seen in his many best selling TV documentaries. But his love of the outdoors and his appetite for challenge isn't just for the cameras; it's also an important part of his family life, and has been since he was a child. Charley will be speaking about some of his adventures at the Daily Telegraph Adventure Show next weekend, but I got in touch with him in advance to ask what led to him becoming an Adventure Dad....

Adventure Dad Charley Boorman

I didn't know much about Charley before I wrote this, apart from that he's bike mad and big buddies with Ewan McGregor. When I first saw him on TV in Long Way Round, I thought he was just a showbiz pal and Obi-Wan Kenobe groupie. But having seen a few of his series it's clear he is a genuine action man and has a real adventurous spirit. And when I found out he was also an adventurous Dad I started to really warm to this guy.

For anyone who hasn't been following his career, Charley Boorman first burst on the small screen in 2004 travelling by motorbike from London to New York with actor Ewan McGregor in Long Way Round. It couldn't have been easy competing for camera attention with a Hollywood film star but it soon became apparent that Charley was also a bit of Jedi in training, as he coped with the many ups and downs of the difficult journey. He followed that by competing in the 2006 Dakar Rally; one of the most dangerous and demanding motor races on earth. Undaunted by injury, he embarked on another journey with McGregor, this time going the Long Way Down; from John O' Groats to Cape Town. Two more big adventures followed when he travelled solo 'By Any Means' from Ireland to Sydney, and then a year later, Right to the Edge by any means, from Sydney to Tokyo.

Charley is now seen by many as one of the modern faces of TV adventuring. It's a nice job if you can get it; earning a salary for being a global action man, and many young people today would sell their granny and her pension for that kind of exposure. But when he started his TV career, Charley wasn't just a wannabe celebrity and he wasn't new to the cameras. Although we hadn't seen his face much on the small screen before Long Way Round, he was a child star of the big screen and had already spend much of his life moving around the world.

My father installed that want to travel
Charley puts his love of travel down in part to his upbringing, “I feel very lucky in the fact that due to my father's work as a film director I had the opportunity to travel from an early age all around the world on location for films such as Deliverance, Excalibur, Hope and Glory and Emerald Forest.” Charley explains. “I think he was the one that really installed that want to travel and I've been doing it ever since. I never dreamed that I would get to continue travelling as much as I have and I'm so grateful that I've been able to.”

Charley Boorman in By Any Means. Image: www.charleyboorman.com

Adventure's an extremely important part of family life
It isn't just travel that fires Charley up. As a child he was encouraged to ride and race motorcross cycles and he still rides a motorbike on a daily basis. He is seen in many circles as 'the adventure rider.' In turn, Charley has nurtured a love of bikes and the outdoors in his own daughters; Doone and Kinvara. “Adventure is an extremely important part of family life! My wife Olivia is pretty gung-ho and the girls are generally up for anything. They love dirt bikes and my family come to meet me at the end of my trips so they can see what I've been up to and we can embark on our own adventures together.”

Don't be mean, write the cheque and let them go
As a strong believer in the power of adventure and its positive impact on family life, Charley would encourage any parents of teenagers to let them explore the world, even if it means paying for it, “Hundreds of kids are convincing their parents to let them go on gap years all over the world and you never hear much about any bad things that go on. There's the occasional bizarre story but most of the people in the world are nice.” he says. “By travelling to America or Africa or Indonesia or wherever they may choose, they will come back with a much more rounded and realistic view of what's going on around the world. So don't be mean, write the cheque and let them go.”

Charley will be speaking at next week's Daily Telegraph Adventure Travel show. If you're in the area, why not pop down and see this all-modern Adventure Dad in action.

More like this?

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Daily Telegraph Adventure Travel Show Director gives us the lowdown on next weekend's show

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 21:09:00 +0000

UK adventurers are setting their compasses for London Olympia this weekend to head for the Daily Telegraph Adventure Travel Show. Explorers of this annual travel fest stand to discover all kinds of adventure holiday and gap year expedition ideas, get a taste of exotic destinations and adventurous activities, and hear tales from celebrity explorers. Oh, and we'll be there too, checking out what's on offer to adventure seeking families. Having got a family ticket I spoke to the show Director Martin Anslow to find out what he has in store for us.

When I tell the kids we’re going to an adventure show in London they don't seem that excited, until I mention that Nick Hewer is scheduled to give a talk.

“Nick's going to be there? Then I'm up for it. I love The Apprentice.”

“Me too. It's better than Sherlock. Will Sherlock Holmes be there too? That would be well-awesome.”

I remind them 221b Baker Street is miles from Olympia, and that Sherlock is a fictional character. There’s a brief pause while they digest this and then the questions come.

“It’s all about adventure right? So there’ll be loads of people, like, bungee jumping from the ceiling? Won’t there? Can we bungee jump?”

I tell them it's likely to be slightly more ground based.

“What about those water bomb things?”

And slightly less water based.

Can I roller skate around it then?”

“Well it doesn't say you can't....”

In truth I know they'll love it, with or without roller skates. Unlike big travel trade shows like World Travel Market, this is aimed at the public and there are talks and stalls to suit every taste, kids included. And what's not to like about hundreds of adventure enthusiasts gathered together for a great big indoor chat about outdoor fun?

From stalls telling you what to do and where to go, to talks on how to write about and photograph your experiences, the show’s all about stimulating the imagination and demonstrating how you can maximise use of your precious time off. It's about tailoring adventure to your dreams and your budget. It's about speaking to people who know their stuff, and booking a holiday or gap year that's right for you. Whether you're a volunteer or pioneer, whether you've ambitions to bond with locals or turtles, organiser Martin Anslow thinks there should be something tucked away in a corner of the exhibition hall for you.

Martin, who has been running the show for fifteen years, says the event works because it's smaller and more intimate than other travel shows. “The Adventure Travel Show is a group of people with the same mentality coming together in one place. It's a very focussed show profiling small operators who cover the whole spectrum of experiences. They are specialists in their subject and their geographical area, and they know their products inside out.”

While the companies may be small, the experiences they offer aren’t. There’s an exhaustive and potentially exhausting range that spans the world and covers everything from white water rafting to wild animal watching. Martin says the show has changed a lot over the years reflecting both boom times and recessions. He believes people are still spending money on travel but these days they're looking for a purer experience, something that feels unpackaged. “People are willing to pay for a more natural experience and there are quite a lot of upmarket brands that are offering people trips to untouched parts of the world. People haven't got months to spend researching these places and want someone to help them set their trip up. These guys know how to get you from A to B, they know where to go, what to see and what to skip.”

With two boys of his own, age six and seven, Martin is looking forward to trying some of the family experiences his show offers in the future, “My children are now at the age where they're starting to understand things more. Before now I tended to take them to places where the activities were laid on,” he tells me. That's not to say his children aren't well travelled having been snorkelling in the Red Sea, Mauritius and The Maldives.

For Martin one of the highlights of the show is the raft of inspirational speakers including Ben Fogle, James Cracknell and Annabelle Bond, “Many of them have gone off and done things no one else would do. They give it a buzz. It's a nice neat show where every single company or individual involved relates to adventurous travel.”

If you'd like to find out more about what's available for families at the show, we'll be looking into the goings on at Olympia and posting news and ideas here on our blog. If you'd like us to check out something for you, then drop us a tweet or let us know via Facebook.

Or if you're in London, why not join us for our investigation into the world of adventure, especially if your name is Sherlock Holmes.

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Is your marriage worth a flitch of bacon?

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 20:30:00 +0000

Would you let judge and jury decide if your marriage is worth a flitch of bacon?
Image: Dunmow Flitch

Can you honestly say in the last year you haven't wished you married somebody else? Is your marriage worth a flitch of bacon? Something Stuart gave me today has got me wondering.

It's not like ours was a shotgun wedding. It took Stuart and I thirteen years to get married. And our engagement, when it finally happened, was a protracted string of negotiations rather than a romantic proposal. He said he would do it, but only if I agreed to quit my job and cycle South America on a nine month honeymoon. I did.

I said I would do it, but only if we could have five kids. We didn't. Not yet. And not likely.

He said he would do it, but only if we made a lifestyle change. We did.

And I said I would do it, but only if I didn't ever have to iron one of his shirts. And to this day we don't have an iron.

On our wedding day we established our own recipe for happiness.

On the whole I think this marriage thing has worked well. Maybe because we work to make our family life as adventurous as we can. Maybe because we stepped away from the treadmill of city life to make time for family life. Maybe because we share similar values. Or maybe it's just because we're too old to squabble. To be honest it's not something I've analysed much, until this morning when Stuart forwards me an e-mail offering half a pig in return for a true and public declaration of our devotion.

He knew I'd fall for it because he knows how much I love bacon. Especially the crispy, streaky variety. If we're not having a sausage sunrise, there's nothing better than a bacon butty on a Saturday morning. But half a pig? That's a lot of butties. At first I thought he was offering me half a pig, not exactly romantic but thoughtful. But it's not a gift, it's not even a given. It's a prize in a competition. I feel a bit duped. But then reading on the competition sounds dead easy to win. All we have to do is convince a court in Essex that we're Mr and Mrs Happily Married.

I should perhaps make it clear that this isn't your typical British court, filled with naughty boys on speeding charges and tabloid phone hackers. This is a special court only convened every four years in Great Dunmow in Essex. Couples from anywhere in the world who believe they are happily married can apply for the chance to be awarded a flitch of bacon, which I learn is half a pig. To qualify they have to swear under oath that for a year and a day they haven't had a quarrel or regretted getting hitched. If they can convince the court they're not telling porkies, then they're on for butties for at least a month and a day. The more I read the more I'm convinced the bacon's in the bag.

A flitch of bacon (left) is awarded to the happiest couple. Image: Dunmow Flitch

These 'trials' have been going on for a while. It apparently started in 1104 (some years before Tesco started doing Finest streaky) when the Lord of the Manor Reginald Fitzwalter and his wife had been married a year and a day. They dressed as peasants and went to ask the Prior for a blessing. He was so impressed by their love and devotion that he gave them a flitch of bacon. (Half a pig if you dozed off earlier). Fitzwalter then gave his land to the Priory on the condition that a flitch should be awarded to any couple who could prove they were similarly devoted in the future.

Couples must declare on oath how happy they are. Image: Dunmow Flitch

"This is ours for the taking," I say to Stuart. But he points out the small print. I never read the small print. For the modern day trials there's a court presided over by a judge, with counsel representing the claimants and opposing counsel representing the flitch donors. There is a jury of six maidens and six bachelors, a clerk of the court to record the proceedings and an usher to maintain order. During the last trials in 2008, only four couples qualified for the flitch, including a visiting couple from Nashville.

I tell Stuart we should enter anyway as I think our marriage is strong enough to be tested in a court of law. After all it's been tested in many ways, in many countries with our many kids on our many adventures.

He laughs. “You're always saying you regret marrying me.”

“I'm not.”

“You are. All the time. And you won't convince a court of law you've never fancied David Beckham."

Hmm. He has a point. There are tensions in our marriage that wouldn't be too hard for an experienced interrogator of love to find out.

But even if we decide not to enter, you could. Anyone can, well if you're hitched and think your relationship can stand public scrutiny. If you're interested, the Dunmow Flitch Trials will be held this year on 14th July but entries must be in by 29th February. Or if you don't think your relationship is up to it yet, you've got four years to work on it before the next round in 2016.

I tell Stuart I really do think we should do it.

“Nah,”he replies, “I'm a vegetarian.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I wish I'd married a carnivore.”

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I can't wash away this winter restlessness

noreply@blogger.com (Stuart (Family Adventure Project)) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 21:51:00 +0000

There’s an icy crack underfoot, then silence. No other footsteps today but mine. I’m not far from home, but out on my own. All alone.

It feels strange. The estuary at Arnside is a wintery grey, the sands are frozen, the tide washed out. After a run of three sunny days I kidded myself winter was over but the nip in my toes says otherwise.

Things are different here in winter. It’s not just the chill of short grey days; we’re different as a family too. We don’t hibernate but we do have a different rhythm.

I’ve always thought Arnside was two different places; it’s such a charming place when the sea floods in, but a muddy channel when she retreats. It reminds me of our double life; the escapism and togetherness of our itinerant summer adventures and the messy reality of the routines of ‘regular’ life.

Wintering at home we each dance to different tunes. Each to their own; school, work, band, piano, rugby, cubs, scouts, brownies. It’s all great stuff, but it pulls us gently apart.

Down near the beach, on a shadowy rock, icicles flow in frozen time. I see a family, together but apart.

As a wintery sun pushes through the grey, tiny droplets appear on the glassy fingers. They slither down the ice, then pause, as if contemplating the drop to join the rivulet below. They cannot stay. They are compelled to jump, to join, merge, flow, to journey.

People pass and interrupt my flow; for a moment I’m not alone. Down on the sand I recapture the solitude. Such moments of peace are rare in our busy family life.

My boots squish deep in the sinking sand. This place is notorious for it. As I am for my winter restlessness. The urge to overthrown routine, get out, go places, be together, do things together, be that carefree vagabond family. But the harder I try to escape the stronger the sand holds me.

Back on the path, I wash away the mucky gloop in a gentle stream. But I can’t wash away the restlessness.

As the tide floods and the sun drops out of the sky, I start to head for home.

Arnside is a different place now and I feel different too.

Winter may still be here but Summer is coming.

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Sausage sunrise - an everyday adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 21:09:00 +0000

Frozen sausages?

As part of our everyday adventures we challenged ourselves to embrace the dawn. It's been grey for weeks so we've had to wait for a clear morning. Conditions were deemed perfect at 07.48 this morning. For a sunrise at 08.24. Just enough time to cook up some sausages, fill a flask and leg it to the top of the fell.

Can you catch the sun in a cup?

“I'm going to catch the sunrise in my cup,” says Cameron, holding his mug to the horizon and squinting at the orange glow creeping up behind Ingleborough.

“Can we have that sausage sandwich now?”

"Not yet, we're still waiting for this," I say scratching a message onto the frosty bench.

You can't have them until...

I thrust my frostbitten hands deep into my pockets and Hannah slides her own in with them in a sneaky bid to steal my heat.

“I'm freezing,” she shrugs, but she's smiling. On this deliciously crisp Friday morning, even the smallest amongst us realise frosty fingers aren't for complaining about.

A neighbour passes with his three dogs and stops to chat. We would love to continue the conversation further but we have to catch the sunrise in our cups.

Hot chocolate on a cold morning

Five faces turn to the sun as it nudges about the spindly trees.
Five minutes of gloriously frosty fire.

Five glowing profiles.
Five sausage sandwiches.

This is what we've really been waiting for!

Five full stomachs.
Five empty cups.
The sun is up.
It's time for school.

Have you ever had a sausage sunrise? Click comments below and tell us about it!

This post is part of the Photo Friday circle, from DeliciousBaby where you'll find links to other great travel blogs participating in Photo Friday. It's also in the loop with RWethereyetmom's Friday Dreaming and MyChaosMyBliss.com

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You can go to the moon…. dreams and making them happen

noreply@blogger.com (Stuart (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 22:28:00 +0000

The Moon Goose Analogue: Lunar Migration Facility, 2011
Commissioned by The Arts Catalyst and FACT for Republic of the Moon, 2011.
Installation view at FACT. Photographer: Brian Slater.

The moon is the muse for a group of six artists exhibiting at FACT Liverpool in a fanciful exhibition, Republic of The Moon. For me, a child of the sixties, the moon is deeply associated with the moon landings and with audacious dreams that can come true. A recent visit to Republic of The Moon got me thinking about what the moon and these artists have to say to us about dreams and making them come true.

I smelt the moon today

Enter at Own Risk, 2011, WE COLONISED THE MOON
Commissioned by The Arts Catalyst and FACT for Republic of the Moon, 2011.
Installation view at FACT. Photographer: Phil Olsen.

We Colonised the Moon have replicated the smell of the moon in an installation in which
an actor in astronaut costume sprays a "garden" of moon rocks with “moon scent”.

I smelt the moon today. And it didn’t smell of cheese. It was a subtle smell, not damp or dusty or particularly pungent. In fact it hardly smelt of anything. But it stuck to my jumper and even now, when I sniff my sleeve, it flies me to the moon.

The moon is a place of dreams, a place to fly to, to reach for; far away but not beyond reach. We’ve been there. We dreamed of it and made it happen. We held an audacious vision, focused on it, invested in it, researched it, applied ourselves and made it happen. That’s how dreams come true. We have been to the moon. And we can go again. If we want to. If we choose to.

The man in the moon wasn’t at home last time I visited. He only works weekends. I saw his spacesuit though, hanging in the cupboard, just beyond his moon-rock garden and empty spray can. His garden looked bare without him. Neat and cared for, but bare. Not really my kind of garden. But his vision of loveliness. Made with all he had available to him. And tended whenever he could. What more can he do? Perhaps I should have been more appreciative. He gave his garden his all in difficult circumstances. It can’t be easy living on the moon.

How do you make a moon come true?

moonmeme, 1992-2011, Liliane Lijn.
Presented by The Arts Catalyst and FACT in Republic of the Moon, 2011.
Installation view at FACT. Photographer: Brian Slater.

Liliane Lijn wants to project the word ‘she’ onto the surface of the moon
so it can be seen from earth, at least on a full moon.

It’s a shame the man in the moon wasn’t there. I wanted to talk with him, to ask if there’s a woman in the moon too. Some in the Republic are working to reclaim the moon. For women.

Liliane Lijn wants to project the word “SHE” onto the surface of the moon, so we can see it from earth and pay homage to the moon, its’ feminine qualities and transformative potential. It will remind us the moon is not just for men, nor is it a man. The work’s been in progress for almost 20 years and the vision is clear. I like it. It’s ambitious, challenging and full of questions about how to achieve it. Questions people are grappling with. Committed people, creative people, applying their minds, talents, energy and spirit to a task they are committed to. In a darkened room, in a corner of the Republic, Liliane shares her vision of the SHE moon, inspiring others to make it come true. In that blackened space I was a ‘new’ moon and heard it cry ‘SHE’ but although it may have touched me, I can’t touch it. Not yet. But someday. Envisioning and sharing can help make a moon come true.

Every dream has its price

Private Moon, 2011, Leonid Tishkov.
Presented by The Arts Catalyst and FACT in Republic of the Moon, 2011.
Installation view at FACT. Photographer: Brian Slater.

Russian artist Leonid Tishkov's photographs tell the story
of a man who met the moon and stayed with her for the rest of his life.

I’d love to have a moon of my own. To have and to hold. From this day forward. In sickness and in health. Some have tried to court the moon, to catch it, hide it, live with it. I’ve seen the photos.

Leonid Tishkov has been travelling with his personal Private Moon for years. It doesn’t look easy to travel with a moon. I can’t begin to imagine the difficulties involved in transporting it or finding suitable places to stay or how you would care for an illuminated moon. Nor what people must say about such an endeavour. You must need to be incredibly patient, resourceful and dedicated. And have something of a thick skin, not to be put off by people’s carping on about your moon invading their space or jealous comments about your beautiful moon pal.

Of course it’s unrealistic to expect everyone to like our dreams or cheer us on but it would be nice, wouldn’t it? I guess every dream has its price; financial, physical, psychological. Still, the pictures make it look so magical, I’m sure it must be worth it.

One person’s crazy is another’s dream come true

The Moon Goose Analogue: Lunar Migration Facility, 2011, Agnes Meyer-Brandis
Commissioned by The Arts Catalyst and FACT for Republic of the Moon, 2011.
Installation view at FACT. Photographer: Brian Slater.

Inspired by a 400 year old story of The Man in The Moone,
Agnes Meyer-Brandis is breeding moon-geese and training them to pull a chariot to the moon.

Dreams are deeply personal. Perhaps that’s why we can be reluctant to share them. They expose something of our inner world and aspirations, making us vulnerable, open to judgment, at risk of ridicule. Some dreams just seem crazy, inspired by nonsense. Like trying to train a colony of geese to fly a chariot into space. But what is crazy? How do we know what is impossible until we’ve tried? Are we too quick to dismiss the incredible as fantasy? I think German artist Agnes Meyer-Brandis thinks so. And she’s got me wondering.

Somewhere in the Republic of The Moon, Meyer-Brandis has been raising eleven moon-geese in an incredible artistic experiment inspired by a 400-year-old story. When Francis Godwin wrote The Man in the Moone he thought a voyage to the Moon was no more fantastic then a voyage to America once was in his time. And of course 400 years later he was proved right. And if he was right about that who’s to say the methods he proposed might not be possible too, one day?

Which is why Meyer-Bran has imprinted herself as goose mother to a flock of moon-geese, is familiarising them with the lunar environment and training them to fly towards the moon. This is no half-hearted endeavour, but one of rigour and attention to detail. Meyer-Brandis has named each of the moon-geese after an astronaut, established a simulated lunar landscape for them to explore in Pollinara, Italy and built a control centre at the Republic of The Moon. She has documented and videoed the whole business and doesn’t seem put off by early lack of success in either harnessing her moon-geese to a chariot or attempting take-off. She remains determined, persistent, resilient, even in the face of what others might call failure.

Looking at the hatched moon-geese eggs, watching her videos and viewing Neil, Svetlana, Gonzales, Valentina, Friede, Juri, Buzz, Kaguya-Anousheh, Irena, Rakesh, and Konstantin-Hermann as they explore their moon in Pollinara, a part of me is tempted to laugh. But I’m impressed too and inspired by this fantastical mission impossible. Of course some of our dreams may seem crazy to others, even to ourselves, but does that mean they shouldn’t be pursued with the same rigour, dedication and commitment?

Fly me to the moon

Full Moon over Earth. Image: NASA

Despite the fact we’ve been to the moon and back again, it’s still is a place of dreams; a real and imaginative place to reach for and fly to. Like all the best dreams it’s a place far away but not beyond reach, familiar yet unknown. A place that maybe we can get to, if we’re bold enough to hold onto our audacious vision (no matter how crazy), believe in it, engage others, focus on it, research it, invest in it, apply ourselves, avoid naysayers and remain resilient in the face of set-backs. That’s how a moon comes true.

I smelt the moon today. And it didn’t smell of cheese.

Republic of the Moon, which is co-curated by The Arts Catalyst and FACT, Liverpool is on show in Liverpool until 26 February 2012

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10 reasons to stop being a cotton wool parent

noreply@blogger.com (Stuart (Family Adventure Project)) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 23:52:00 +0000

This is not cotton wool but what's the real risk in conditions like these?

You are a parent. Looking after kids is your job right? And to do that job well you have to protect them from danger. But are you overprotecting them? I’m forever wondering whether I’ve got the balance right between protecting from genuine threats and giving the freedom to explore and experience the world and the risks that exist in it.

The world's a risky place, isn't it?

It’s all too easy to list the evils of the modern world; aggressive traffic, stranger danger, bullying, drink, drugs, extreme weather. And look, even in my opening paragraph I’ve already assumed a world of risk 'out there'. And the media does a pretty good job of bringing to our attention the nastiest things that can happen too, amplifying any sense of unease. To the point where it can easily feel irresponsible to let the kids walk to school, play in the woods, stay out after dark or talk to strangers. When I think about these things it just seems so natural to get out those kid sized puffy white cotton straightjackets. But at what cost?

I see childhood as a time for experimenting with the world, a time for play, for learning, for trial and error, for splashing about in society, dipping a toe into the outdoors, and trying out different character traits to see which suit. I’d rather like to see adulthood as that too, but that’s a different post. As a parent, I think it's my duty to help my kids with all of this, and to guide them around the traps of modern life. But 'guiding around' is different to 'avoiding at all costs.'

But what does risk averse parenting teach?

I mean what do I implicitly teach them about the world if I let my parenting style be dominated by risk aversion? How does that help them explore and discover the big wide world they will eventually have to live in. Alone. Without me. Don’t kids need to experience risk and challenge and need to learn how to deal with it? And can they do that wrapped in cotton wool?

Although they may not make the news like a shooting or child abduction, there are equally compelling reasons for giving kids freedom, letting them out into the world to make mistakes and learn. So, in the interests of balance, and to remind myself of the importance of this, here's ten reasons not to give into the urge to wrap kids up in the fluffy stuff. At least from time to time.

What does a world full of warnings teach us about risk?

10 reasons to stop being a cotton wool parent

1) If you never expose your children to risk how will they learn to assess danger for themselves? If a toddler can trip or fall over an obstacle then they probably will. But next time in that situation they'll negotiate a way over or around it or give it a miss. If you allow and encourage your child to assess how risky something is for themselves, you help them learn to make sensible judgements.

2) Making decisions, taking responsibility for your own actions and dealing with the consequences of those actions breeds confidence. Who doesn't want confident children?

Kids need to learn about risk, responsibility and consequences

3) Do you really want a teenager who can't cross the road without you holding their hand? If you don't let kids experience the world for themselves, it's going to be terrifying later, for both of you! Teach them the ropes of any activity, tame or extreme, then let them get on with it. You'll thank yourself in the end when you have independent kids who realise how much freedom you gave them compared to their friends.

4) Research suggests we are breeding a nation of Nintendo kids, more familiar with the screen than the sky. Is this what you really want? What happened to fresh air and the freedom to wander? Let them out on their own occasionally. Boot them out if you have to. They will come back again. When they're hungry.

Kids love a sense of freedom

5) Imagine a life without choice. If you are cotton wool parenting then you are taking away their power and ability to make choices for themselves. You might as well lock them in their bedrooms until they reach 18. It's not necessary to dive in and sort out every problem for them. A little well placed 'benign neglect' can require kids to make choices and deal with things for themselves.

6) If your children feel you believe in them, they will be happier, more go getting people. If your children don't feel you believe in them, what do they learn?

Allowing kids to assess risk is not without risks

7) Remember how great it felt when your parents sent you off out to play in the streets or picnic in the park, on your own? Why not offer some of that joy and freedom to your kids? Give them a watch, a phone and a time to come home. The first outing is the hardest, and then it gets easier.

8) Responsible kids become responsible adults and responsible parents. The way you treat your kids shapes the way they will treat theirs. If you create cotton wool kids you may get generations of cotton wool grandchildren too.

Giving kids responsibility teaches responsibility

9) Children are resilient. They bounce when they fall out of bed. Scrapes, scratches and grazes heal. Why not send them up a tree or off to scale a mountain. Let them discover their resilience.

10) Pessimism breeds Eeyores. Stop thinking negatively. Let them think they can have the moon on a stick and see where that takes them. They may settle for just the moon or just the stick or think both are 'so last year.' But at least you've shown them the possibilities. And life, in the end, is all about seeing the possibilities.

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10 Off Season City Breaks for Families

noreply@blogger.com (Stuart (Family Adventure Project)) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 14:24:00 +0000

You won't find a beach like this in season!

They always look good in the brochures don't they; those midsummer breaks in peaceful locations with a deserted beach that stretches into forever? Thing is, those idyllic pictures taken out of season start to look a little busy in July. And the reality is that your well earned quality family time is spent queuing at the buffet or trying to get the attention of the staff while they're trying to control the bun fight at the bar. But it doesn't have to be like that.

Why chase the sun and dodge the crowds in August when you could have an Autumn, Winter or Spring break? You don't have to strap on skis and head for the mountains in the depths of Winter; off-season breaks in the heart of European cities can be magical experiences. And if you use last minute accommodation services like Late Rooms, budget airlines like easyJet or advance rail tickets, you might even bag a bargain.

Here are ten of our favourite city break ideas for off-season family fun.

Venice, Italy

Venice is a stunner whatever time of year

Whatever the time of year, Venice is a stunner. But let's face it, in the summer it comes with a fair degree of hassle. There's barely an inch of St Mark's square that isn't peopled with backpackers, the best restaurants are all booked up, the big cruise ships overshadow not just the gondolas but half of the lagoon, and you haven't really time to appreciate the atmosphere as you're trying to dodge guides wielding umbrellas with the force of Mary Poppins. Off season it is all so different. The walkways beside the waterways stop being motorways and become places to really stroll. A great time to visit is before carnival in February when the madness hasn't yet started but some of the colour is starting to appear in the streets. And as for the weather, well Venice can be even more atmospheric in the rain. But movie buffs, tell your kids to beware of the woman in the red dress.

Granada, Spain

Granada looks at its most beautiful when framed by the snow-capped Sierra Nevada mountains, something you won't see in the Summer season. I love wandering this city but am always drawn back to the Alhambra, the famous Moorish citadel and palace. It's a popular UNESCO World Heritage Site so be prepared to book ahead to visit, whatever time of the year. If you happen to be in Granada for the Winter solstice you may see locals marking it with Hogueras; jumping through fires to protect themselves against illness. But do tell your kids not to try this at home. And if everyone tires of the city, it's only an hour to the mountains or, if you prefer heading the other way, to the beach.

Bratislava, Slovakia

The alien spaceship bridge is a great landmark in Bratislava

Bratislava's Old Town is a dream for families, dominated by the castle sitting high on the hill with amazing views along the Danube. Bratislava is walkable. It's manageable. And not only has a beautiful pedestrianised old town, but also boasts a stylish modern waterfront with parks, cafes and restaurants and its own alien spaceship bridge. The city has an international film festival in December and as the cultural heart of Slovakia has its own Opera House, National Theatre, museums and several annual festivals. And it has cheap snacks on every corner. We had the best hot chocolate in the world at the Bon Bon cafe. You own personal fondue will keep your hands warm before a stomp up to the castle.

Edinburgh, Scotland

Here's another city with a very stompable hill. Arthur's Seat is well worth a walk at any time of year and while you're up there you can visit Holyrood Palace. And come rain or come shine if you go visit Edinburgh Castle you're sure to spot a few kilts, hear a few bagpipes and maybe catch a haggis. Edinburgh has lots of fun things for families like the Our Dynamic Earth Centre, and seasonal open air ice skating. And the Scottish ski slopes aren’t far away either. If you happen to be there at New Year you get fabulous fireworks and all the excitement of Scottish Hogmanay, the world's best New Year's eve party. And look out for lorne sausage. It's as good as haggis. Although vegetarians may prefer to go in search of the mythical deep fried mars bars and pizza. Or not.

Paris, France

Paris is not just for lovers, it's very family friendly too.

With or without a family in tow, I've always found Paris more pleasant off season. Undeniably it's something to do with all those little bars, patisseries and coffee shops inviting me in for a warm up if I catch a chill skipping from The Louvre to the Eiffel Tower. But it also has something to do with feeling more like a local than a tourist. It's also much cheaper off season with hotels slashing prices. And if the kids get bored with Parisian food and culture, it's only a short train ride to spend a day at Disneyland, Paris. It's also not far to the Siene-et-Marne region allowing you to take a break from city life in its woodlands, rivers, hiking trails, villages and châteaux.

Budapest, Hungary

One of the most appealing things about visiting Budapest in winter is you get an extra night for free as part of the annual Budapest Winter Invitation campaign run by Hungary's National Tourist office. This year there are around 90 hotels taking part in this offer. You can stay warm in the city by booking into a spa hotel, or visit one of the city's famous baths, Gellert and Szechenyi. Or for more water related warmth, take a lunch or dinner cruise on the Danube. If you want to embrace the cold, go ice skating on Europe's largest outdoor skating rink in the park that transforms into a boating lake in the summer. Check it's open for business first.

Milan, Italy

Milan is all about fashion and in winter it’s a velvet haven. Men's fashion week takes place in January and you can let some of the glamour rub off on you. If you're with the kids, catch some of the atmosphere from a nearby cafe, or escape from the family for an hour to one of the less publicised shows. Unsurprisingly it's also a great place to go shopping. You can find real bargains especially just after the festive season is over. Many of the theatres that take a break in the summer months are open for business too. And when you've had enough of all that city activity; take them all skiing. It’s only an hour's drive away.

Vienna, Austria

Preparing strudel in Schloss Schonbrunn

A visit to Vienna is supposed to be about art, culture and music, right? Actually it's mostly about coffee and cake, and what family doesn't like coffee and cake? The Austrian capital has lots to offer the children including a fantastic museum district, some great music museums, affordable concerts and attractions like Schonbrunn Palace. And if you can ditch the kids, winter is the Viennese Ball season. Give your marriage a boost and your partner a whirl. What's more Vienna's and Bratislava are only 40 miles apart, with connections by Hydrofoil on the Danube, which opens up the possibility of a two city mini-break in one weekend,

Athens, Greece

Unless you beat the coach parties, the Parthenon atop the Acropolis is a many pillored tourist prison in the summer. We went at dawn and still had to fight for space as the coaches arrived. But go off season and it’s a delight. The city has the most incredible historic monuments and excellent state run museums that are free on Sundays in the winter. And they're not all dry and dusty like old history books, many are family oriented and hands on, like the Hellenic Cosmos Cultural Center of the Foundation of the Hellenic World. Really, don't be put off by a name! Off season the bars, cafe's and attractions are quieter, and the walkways left to the locals. If the weather is warm you might even be able to sit outdoors. And in case you didn't know, the beach and Attica coast line is only 30 minutes away. Or if you fancy a break from your city break you could even sample a little Greek island life; Aegina is a short hydrofoil ride from Piraeus, Athen's port.

Munich, Germany

Summer or winter, everyone loves the Glockenspiel at the Ratskeller in Munich

October is in season in Munich when Oktoberfest rules. But you don't have to be there in October to enjoy a beer. You can warm up in one of the city's bierkellers or beer gardens any time of year. Or in winter if you prefer to stay cold you could try skating on the canal at Nymphenburg Palace. Or go surfing. Yes really. You can surf the ice-cold waters of the river Isar or watch others do it from the bridge close to Haus der Kunst. Munich also boasts some great family friendly museums, like the Kinder-und Jugendmuseum and the Deutches Museum. And if the city living proves too much then the Bavarian Alps are less than an hour away by rail or car.

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Where there is tea there is hope.... the indie alternative to coffee chains

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 18:22:00 +0000

Leaf on Bold Street, a great spot for afternoon tea

'Where there is tea there is hope' says the sign in Leaf

There is a delicate smell of flowers wafting from one of five glass teapots in front of me. Whole rose buds bob about in it, their petals grasping a tight pink centre, with the sphere encased by tiny leaves.
“Is it a drink or a work of art?” I ask the kids.
“There’s a slightly woody smell, like Dad’s rose garden,” announces Stuart.
“The minty one reminds me of Polo’s,” says Matthew, helping himself to a pot of the green stuff.

Whole rose buds bob about

I've always hated tea

The teapots say ‘Drink Me’ but I hesitate. I hate tea. I've always hated it. As an industrial coffee drinker, I'm proud to say my latte habit keeps Cumbria out of recession. And if Stuart and I were ever to divorce, I’m sure he’d cite the way I make tea.
“M’Lord,” I hear him plead, “She puts the teabag in the milk first, and then adds water.”
But is that really unreasonable behaviour? The procedure works fine with coffee.

But today there are no tea bags and no controversy. And there is no hesitation on any of our parts about consuming the other ingredients of the afternoon tea laid out before us. Everything about it screams 'Eat Me.' Awesome home-made carrot cake. Chocolate cake with gold spirals topped with fresh raspberries. Scones with jam and cream. Brownies still warm from the oven and a selection of delicate finger sandwiches. In a glorious hour of Englishness we finish off five plates of food and five pots of tea. I even have a taste of Whole Rose Bud and Morrocan Mint and Lemon Verbana and Blue Sapphire Earl Grey and Assam Breakfast; well it would be rude not to.

Leaf's traditional afternoon tea, cakes and sandwiches

Tea at Leaf is a great alternative to bars and coffee shops

We aren't the only ones opting for afternoon tea in this buzzy Liverpool tea house. Tea at Leaf on Bold Street is becoming something of a ritual for those who want an alternative to the coffee shop chains and endless pubs elsewhere in the city. The tearooms are attracting a reputation nationally too, having been listed in several top UK tearoom lists online and in the UK broadsheets .

Where there's tea there's hope: Leaf offers tea as a real alternative to coffee or hard drinking

Over a cup of tea (of course) I meet the owner, 30 year old Natalie Haywood. She tells me she was a fellow coffee addict until she gave it up one day and realised there was no real alternative to the likes of Starbucks and Costa. She opened up a small tea house on Parliament Street, eventually relocating to Bold Street when she saw the potential of the new premises as a multi-purpose venue. Natalie also wanted to provide an alternative to the city's regular hard drinking, “We're only a stones throw away from the biggest binge drinking strip in the city,” she points out. “I wanted to start something with a more continental feel. I wanted to make tea accessible to people my age and bring it into the 21st century. Tea is often seen as an old person's drink.”

It's much more than a tea shop

The plan seems to have worked. On this cold afternoon the place is packed, and we sit upstairs, next to a stage that's used in the evenings for open-mic nights and gigs. Leaf is a vibrant and creative space that also hosts reading groups, pudding clubs, art auctions and vintage markets. There's a relaxed, hip feel to the place. Whenever we've had plush afternoon tea with kids it has felt more of a chore than a treat. But here there is no sense that they need to be on their best behaviour. They relax and we relax and it's how it should be.

Is there something of a Mad Hatter's Tea Party here?

“We do offer something different,”confirms Natalie, reeling off some of the 40 flavours they offer. “Tourists love our afternoon tea because it's not too stuffy. But we do it properly; we use only loose leaf.” The art deco building has come full circle; it began as a tea shop in the 1920's, although it has been everything from clothes boutique to car showroom in between. “This was the old minstrel's gallery,” Natalie smiles. “We feel like we've landed in our spiritual home.”

Tea will always have a place in Liverpool

And in a maritime city that in years gone by has made a living importing tea, smuggling tea, packing tea, shipping tea and sipping tea it is fitting that a century later it should be getting a reputation for taking it in style.

Oh and yes, I did drink the tea, and yes, I liked a couple of them. In the Leaf newspaper I read that 'Tea to the English is like a picnic indoors'. But in my opinion, although an indoor picnic is lovely, roses are more suited to the garden than a tea pot. Once a coffee lover, always a coffee lover.

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Disclosure note: Thanks to the Natalie Haywood at Leaf on Bold Street who provided afternoon tea to allow us to bring you this story.

I lost my tooth to art: Palaces at The Bluecoat, Liverpool

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:19:00 +0000

Palaces by Gina Czarnecki. Image: Palaces Website

Hannah stands in front of a crystal resin sculpture that twists and spikes towards the white cubed ceiling. In her hand is a neatly wrapped milk tooth in a little silver bag.

“Where do you want to put it?” says the sculpture's creator, Gina Czarnecki.

Hannah hands over the tooth, but not to the Tooth Fairy

Adding a redundant body part to an emergent art project that raises big questions about the future of science and medicine is perhaps the most important job my daughter has ever had. She thinks carefully before making a firm decision about the tooth's final resting place.

“There's hardly any teeth on it,” Matthew comments, poking his head around the sculpture.

“There are actually 600 on there already,” Gina replies, “and if everybody just gives one, it'll build up. It's up to others to grow it now, I'm just the caretaker.”

I lost my tooth to art

A crystal resin structure that will eventually be covered in milk teeth from children from around the world is a great idea for a piece of participative art. But how do you produce a milk tooth on demand? We've been wobbling ours since we decided to visit the Palaces sculpture at Liverpool's The Bluecoat. Thankfully one of Hannah's friends had just lost one and her mum wrestled it back from the Tooth Fairy, or we'd have had to come empty handed.

Artist Gina Czarnecki glues another tooth to Palaces

Hannah chooses the spot, towards the centre of the piece, and Gina glues the tooth on with a glue specially procured to stick teeth to resin. “What we are doing is embedding them. They'll become part of the sculpture. They'll never fall off and they'll never discolour. It'll look like coral in the end, and hopefully if we get thousands and thousands they'll all spill over the plinth and form like water droplets coming down. This is only the beginning of the sculpture. As it travels it will get bigger.”

Bigger to the tune of 12,000 teeth if the sculpture grasps the imagination of the nation.

Where art meets science and engages the public

Although born in the art world, Palaces was conceived through science. The sculpture is part of the Wasted Project; a series of installations exploring the life giving potential for unwanted body parts. It came about after conversations between Liverpool based artist Gina and stem cell biologist Sara Rankin and explores the regenerative potential of adult stem cells, and the possibility of discarded body parts like bones, milk teeth and fat from liposuction one day being routinely used to create new cells or repair damaged tissue. “The idea is to educate people about the different types of stem cells that could be used, not just the controversial embryonic one,” says Gina who attempts to explain the complex theory of stem cells to our non-scientific family. She explains how scientists can take stem cells from fat and bones and teeth as well as embyros, but these are not the same. "Sara often compares it to an egg. If you get an egg you can make into a cake or omelette. As soon as you crack it it can no longer be a boiled egg, and once whisked it becomes more defined. Embryonic stem cells can be turned into anything, just like the uncracked egg.”

Palaces: Science, Art, Myths and Magic. Please do touch.

As a creative exchange between artists and scientists Palaces questions our views on emerging medical research, but is also intended to raise questions about everything from the role of storytelling in families to the role of the National Health Service in society. “It’s very personal but also there are these really huge questions we should be asking as a responsible citizen, and of our scientists and artists,” says Gina. “I'm interested in the history of medicine, science and magic all linked together. But also the authority of institutions like hospitals and the church, and I want to look at why we still maintain rituals which we may or may not believe in.” I ask if Gina took into account the tooth fairy rituals that mums like me have worked so hard to maintain? “It was never to destroy belief systems,” Gina reassures me. “We designed an IOU token to put under your pillow so when the Tooth Fairy comes she knows not to take your tooth. Palaces carefully protect beliefs.”

It's great to be able to say 'Do touch'

I take a walk around the structure, marvelling at how tiny a baby tooth can look when surrounded by swirling resin and a big white room. I find myself wishing I had held on to my children's teeth, as a way of preserving this fleeting stage of their childhood. I have an overwhelming urge to touch the teeth, and am surprised when Gina nods her approval, “This is an opportunity to engage (with a public sculpture) in a physical way. Do not touch is so often the golden rule in galleries, and kids always want to touch, so it’s great to be able to say yes.”

People have started to send in drawings and stories about their teeth which are being collected and mounted as part of the exhibition. I ask Gina about feedback so far and she says responses have been positive, although 'creepy' comes up now and again; mostly from adults. I don't find it creepy. It is rather beautiful and reminds me of a huge but delicate crown, of the princess not dental variety. What I do find unsettling are the armchairs in the same room, also part of the Wasted Project, with cushions made out of human fat. I am allowed to sit on one.

These armchairs are part of the Wasted Project. Sit comfortably on cushions of human fat.

It is an uncomfortable reminder that as my forties progress my stomach is growing faster than my children's teeth. I'd like to add my fat to this sculpture. I'm waiting for Gina to ask me where I want to put it, but she doesn't. Instead she puts her little bottle of glue back in her pocket, telling me our tooth will now make its way to London; to the Science Museum and then the Centre of the Cell. Sometimes the kids get to have all the fun.

Got a tooth to spare?

Palaces Animation from Gina Czarnecki.

Palaces welcomes milk teeth donations and the developing sculpture can be seen (and touched) at The Bluecoat until 19^th February 2012, then at the Science Museum, London, 7^th April – 28^th June 2012, and the Centre of the Cell, London, 9^th July – 16^th September 2012.

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Thanks: to Gina Czarnecki for taking the time to meet and talk with us at The Bluecoat.

Down the Rabbit Hole: Who in the World am I?

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 00:20:00 +0000

Old Liverpool reflected in New Liverpool at the new Museum of Liverpool Building

“Let's begin at the beginning,” says the White Rabbit at the start of Lewis Carroll's famous story.

So…

Once upon a time..
…There was a little girl who lived in a small village where nothing ever happened. Like many little girls she dreamed of escaping to a bigger place, with streets paved with gold and lined with opportunities, but the only one she knew was a grim, grey and graffiti laden; a crippled city where people didn't smile much. When she grew up, the girl left home in search of a Wonderland and settled in a land of rolling hills, farms and fells, far from the graffiti memory of childhood.

And that might have been the end of the story but then…
…. One unsuspecting evening I stumbled into an online episode of Desperate Scousewives that defied my grey recollections. I quickly recognised the glam-tanned babes, cocktails and curlers, but what was with the posh shops, shiny buildings, and city of culture vibe? Could this really be Liverpool? Curiousity peaked, I decided it was time to return to visit Liverpool, to jump back down my rabbit hole and re-assess my childhood memories.

When did this grey place I knew in childhood become this Wonderland?

A trip to Wonderland was the last thing I expected. But at the age of 44, I found myself in a fairy lit fantastical world, where my perceptions were challenged, and expectations confounded. Disorientated and lost, without a white rabbit to follow, I was forced to take a fresh look at the city that grew up alongside me, a city that’s regenerated and reinvented itself while I’ve been busy building a family. A city that’s now a UNESCO Heritage site like the Pyramids and the Great Wall of China. A city that for the first time made me feel small and overwhelmed. A city that was coincidentally celebrating the topsy turvy world of Alice.

Curiouser and curiouser...

“You see that line? That marks the size Alice grew to when she ate the biscuit.” says the volunteer guide at Tate Liverpool. We all follow the line with our eyes and imagine what it's like to be more than 9 feet tall.

“Is there a line showing what she shrunk to when she had the drink?” asks Cameron.

“No, actually there isn't.” says the guide.

“There should be.” advises Cameron, our self-appointed curator.

I didn't expect to become Alice..

Tate Liverpool's current exhibition, Alice in Wonderland, is the first complete exploration of the story's influence on the visual arts. From the author's original drawings to surrealist paintings inspired by the story, it explores a world where things aren't what they seem.

“He wasn't even called Lewis Carroll,” says Cameron. “His name was Charles L. Dodgson!”

Over several floors of the exhibition, we discover the story of Alice was never written as a best seller. It was conceived to entertain a young girl; Alice Liddell, and tells the story of an adolescent who struggles with her changing identity and body image, a girl who is faced with a puzzling, unsettling world, yet still remains in control of her own destiny. It is a story of individuality and self-knowledge, a deconstruction of time and language, a dream of a fantastical world. And a story that adults may read and interpret quite differently to the children they are reading it to.

The new Museum of Liverpool opened in December 2011

It's interesting that this exhibition coincides with my first visit to Liverpool in many years. Like Alice, I feel an altered relationship with my surroundings. Leaving as a child, I return now as an adult, bringing my own children to experience this wonderland. And it is a Wonderland. This city now glitters where it once glowered. The Liverpool of my childhood was corrupted by local politicians and robbed of its dignity by central government policies. Years of unemployment had left it angry and depressed. The glory years of the Beatles were well behind it and John Lennon was dead. Historic buildings like St George's Hall were coated in a charcoal grime from traffic pollution and the people in comparison looked pale and white-faced. Tower blocks were the only investment in the landscape, apart from a few shops at The Albert Dock, where hardly anyone went because it was too far from town.

The Mersey from behind the Tate, Albert Dock

Now, like Alice, I stand, bewildered, questioning everything I knew and trying to make sense of my surroundings. Scale is altered here. I have been shrunk to the size of a dormouse. The billion pound Liverpool One dwarfs me. Even its escalators seem to stretch into eternity. It drips with gold and its sparkle rubs off on the people. They all have a rosy glow, (some of them veering on orange admittedly.) Without exception the young women have made an effort to be out today, with dyed, sculpted eyebrows and highlighted hair. Trade is brisk in the boutiques and shops; the big brands are all here; Armani and Apple, Lego and John Lewis. With the Liverpool One development now bridging the city centre, Albert Dock and Echo Arena, the city feels bigger, bolder and more integrated now, with the illuminated Big Wheel towering over it all, studding the sky with diamonds.

And Alice is everywhere. From the pop-up book swap cafe with giant tea pots in the Metquarter Centre, to the Curious Garden with its tea cups in Williamson Square; this city knows how to pull off a theme. I wonder where it all began. Did the Tate decide to do an exhibition, with the city following, or did the city turn itself into Wonderland inspiring an exhibition? As Lewis Carroll himself put it “Ah, that's the great puzzle.”

The famous clock and one of the Liver birds

The hands move on the giant clock face below the world famous Liver Birds. The Three Graces look out onto the dark river, as they have done for centuries. The seagulls squeal and fight for scraps while the people dine on fine food in the regenerated face lifted Albert Dock.

And immersed in a childhood landscape that has changed so much, of course I have to ask, “Who in the world am I?”

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The hopes and fears of all the years…

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 13:10:00 +0000

I want my Christmas to be perfect..

Thursday December 23nd

Filled with nativity characters and swamped in darkness, our house resembles the stable at Bethlehem. Except Mary and Joseph had candles.
“Where's the torch,” screams Stuart from the kitchen. “Who’s taken the torch?”
“The same elves that take sellotape, scissors and gift wrap when you need them.”
“That's not helpful.”
“Baaa..” says Cameron, scampering around the floor, “I hope Santa brings me sellotape.”
The power is reset and the lights come on to reveal a Sheep, Gold Star and Trumpet Herald. I've been making costumes all day. And writing a script. People assume a nativity script is easy as it's the same plot ever year. But while it is the same plot, the words need work. Ask the guys who wrote the bible.

We may have light but we're still without power as the ring main keeps tripping.
“How am I going to print out the script?” I panic.
“Er, I think we have a bigger problem… like no heating, hot water or electricity in the kitchen.”
The magnitude of this dawns on me and my eyes fill with tears. All is lost. Christmas is ruined. With Christmas eve almost upon us and the fridge warming up Stuart heads off to the cellar in search of dodgy wires while I desperately try to dream up solutions. I remember an electrician friend up the road and decide tonight he will be our saviour.

Our tree without lights? It's just not right...

The lights are on in the electrician's house. He greets me in his dressing gown and I realise I am in my pyjamas. As he ushers me in out of the cold I find his wife is also dressed for bed and soon we’re are having a strange pyjama party around the tree. It's warm and Christmassy and for a moment I forget about Stuart in the cellar. But my conscience is pricked when they put another log on the fire. I spoil the moment with an outpouring of fears of a cold, hungry Christmas and my saviour promises to visit our stable in the morning. “Don't worry,” he reassures me, “It’s probably a fault with the circuit breaker, nothing major.”

Saturday December 24th

When I wake, Stuart is on the phone arguing with his mother. She’s changed her mind about coming to the nativity and won’t be persuaded. Too bad. I head off to photocopy scripts at the village shop and return to find my electrician having a cup of tea with Stuart. He’s already sorted out the power problem. “I just reset it,” he explains, “maybe it’s intermittent.” Hope is restored. “But if it does come back again, you could be looking at a rewiring job.” I don’t care. Christmas came back on with the electricity and I’ve a hundred tiny sandwiches to make for the nativity.

By sandwich one hundred Stuart’s mum has been persuaded to come but says she can’t because her car won’t start so Stuart heads off to collect her. Meanwhile I busy myself looking for gold, frankincense and myrrh looking presents under the tree but instead find a dead mouse.
“Is that a Christmas mouse?” asks Cameron.
I am too shocked to reply.

When Stuart breezes in with his mother we still haven't dealt with the body.
“Dead." whispers Hannah, "Mouse.”
We all look at the mouse. Then Stuart and I look at the power sockets next to the body and the tiny shreds of PVC, and a new reality dawns. The mice have nibbled away at our Christmas. All hope is lost.

You wouldn't find a dead mouse under this tree.. but that's not our house

“Why couldn't we bring the mouse?” Cameron sulks as we drive over the fell to the church.
“Because there wasn't a dead mouse in the stable.” I snap.
“Who says?”
“God says.”
“Baaa..” says the Sheep, squashed in the back with granny, a Gold Star and Trumpet Herald.

The baby Jesus is born. Mary looks suitably in love amid a random cast of two Stars, four Kings, three Angels and a Sheep. Hannah is the Gold Star, dressed in a gold Barbie dress with four foil stars pinned to the bodice. It looks horribly home-made. Next to her another little girl shines brightly in a glittering shop-bought silver star costume. Mary looks like she is dressed by Monsoon, with a taffeta white dress and blue flowing head piece. Her Sheep looks like he’s dressed by Oxfam with white cotton wool stuck to his jumper and recycled donkey ears from last year's play. But he is very emphatic in his lowing and thankfully doesn't produce any dead mice. The baby goes in his crib on the altar and all is calm.

My mind wanders from warm stable to cold house. I want my Christmas to be a perfect moment, something to remember, but not for no power, hot water, heating or a defrosting freezer. And then from the stable in front of me come words I recognise. I recognise them because I wrote them, well paraphrased them. “The baby Jesus brings hope into the world, tonight and for all nights.” Hope. We have each other and we have Hope.

I mention this revelation on the way home. My mother in law harrumphs. She lost all hope some time ago when she found the bottle.
“Pandora had Hope in the bottom of the box,” says Matthew, who finds Greek myths more interesting than biblical tales. “Zeus put in all the bad things in the world into her present. Things like fear and death. But he also put in a little bit of Hope. To help us deal with all the bad stuff.”

Sunday December 25th
5.30am and the kids are routing through their stockings. In the dark. I pick out their shadows on the landing. I have no idea if this is a power cut or if they're just canny enough to leave the lights out and hope we don’t notice. I can't bring myself to check. If Christmas is spoilt I don't want to know. I don’t want to lose hope.

If Christmas is spoilt, I don't want to know...

We round the children up for church. Cameron has Heelies from Santa and puts them on. But he can't skate and falls over on the way to the car.
“You're not wearing those for church” I say.
“Dad says I can.”
I look at Stuart and envisage a recurring argument about our different parental attitudes to risk. I shrug. I don't want an argument on Christmas Day and pray Cameron doesn't get picked to do the offertory procession.

We are well into the third verse of Away in a Manger when Cameron is picked to do the offertory procession.

He totters down the aisle on tiptoe towards the helper before I can grab him. I watch as he is offered a crystal decanter full of wine. I envisage him skating up the aisle, overbalancing, legs going everywhere, the blood of Christ splattering over baby Jesus in the crib on the altar. We're going to be the 'and finally' on the local news tonight. Hope isn't enough here. This demands action. I sprint down the aisle after him.
“You can't do it,” I hiss at him. The priest moves to the front of the church to accept the gifts.
“He can't do it.” I hiss. People start to turn around and look, their attention wandering from the third verse. I grab the arm of the helper.
“He can't do it.” I hiss. “Because he's wearing roller skates!” The helper's eyes widen and he starts to giggle. “I thought he was walking funny because his trousers were too tight!” he whispers, before taking the wine up to the priest himself.

Whatever happens, we will bounce back

Back at home things are still warm and cosy. The fridge is humming and ice clinks in our glasses over Christmas dinner. Matthew puts on a bow tie and acts as host. There are no dead mice in the presents. It is a indeed a very Merry Christmas.

Monday December 26th

2.30am and I am woken by the burglar alarm. There is no power. The house is black once again. This is the work of mice. I decide against another pyjama party and resolve to wait till morning to call my electrician friend. Lying in the darkness I remember the priest's Christmas message about the light of the world, how a baby brought hope into the world in a stable in Bethlehem two thousand years ago, and how he is still here to help us overcome darkness. You can rewrite the words, but the story remains the same.

The Angel of the Lord came down, but still the lights didn't work

All is calm, even if it’s not bright. And I’ve got hope. Irrational, incredible, implausible hope. And in the peace of this black night I’m holding onto it.

This post is in the loop at MyChaosMyBliss and at DeliciousBaby Photo Friday circles. Visit them for links to other great Photo Friday stories.

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Liverpool People: Danny and Yazz give us The Old Dock Tour

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 18:39:00 +0000

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Liverpool has many well known sons, and daughters

Liverpool is a city with many well known sons. From Bill Shankley in the Anfield spin off gallery Reds, to John Lennon lounging outside The Cavern Club, their images are crammed into the urban space.

Look behind the Liverpool Big Wheel, down near the Albert Dock, and you'll currently see an enormous Paul McCartney frozen in time, flashing his trademark peace sign to the gulls that hover on the breeze. Hannah and Cameron play about next to the poster advertising his latest concert and homecoming. They look like Barbie and Ken next to this mighty local giant. For three hours the other night, Macca was a real presence again in Liverpool, bringing back 'Yesterday' to thousands of middle aged fans playing the last night of his tour at the Echo Arena. But at the end of the concert he went back to being a song, a statue, a disc on a wall in Matthew Street.

The Beatles are just one of many Liverpool attractions

While The Beatles still bring in the worshippers in their thousands, (826,000 day visitors a year to be precise), it's the more everyday people of Liverpool that keep the place ticking over, ensure that visitors have a good experience and communicate the essence of its past and its present. From the street sweepers to the staff at Visit Liverpool to the education officers in the new Museum of Liverpool, they are part of the city's modern character. They appreciate how much money tourism brings in and work to retain its reputation. Last year 54.5 million visitors experienced their hospitality and warm, friendly welcome. These people know this city. They are part of its beating scouse heart.

Through the porthole. Danny and Yazz show us how you can peer from the new commercial centre,
Liverpool One into history and see the remains of the original commercial hub, The Old Dock.

Today we meet two of the most well informed people in the city. Danny and Yazz are tour guides at the Merseyside Maritime Museum. They communicate the city's part in the slave trade, and they show people the old Liverpool, deep beneath the multi million pound regeneration of Liverpool One. They are an accidental double act (Danny's the straight one of the comedy team, the foil to Yazz's mad hair, blue glasses and continual jokes) who individually stumbled across the job advert while working as night watchmen in the local museums. Now, three times a day, twice a week, they lead archaeologists, school groups, families and tourists on tours underneath the new space that is Liverpool One to see the original commercial foundations of the city, the Old Dock. Their guided Old Dock tour of the world's first commercial enclosed wet dock, is a free, entertaining and interesting look into the city's past. And, it has some really terrible jokes.

“Prince Albert sailed into here on The Fairy,” says Yazz.
“Not The Fairy Across The Mersey?” questions Danny.

Danny gives us the low down on the Old Dock

From a discussion of how Salthouse Dock was built, to an explanation of William Hutchinson's influential studies of tidal heights, the pair gear their talk to their audience. If you’re a historian they do dates. If you're an archaeologist they do rock formation. If you're aged eleven they do lightbulb jokes. And they never stop doing it, whatever the weather.

“Never cancelled one yet,” says Danny, as we cross the road from Salthouse Dock to the site where the Old Dock was excavated in 2001. “We did think about it a few days ago when the wind was howling and you could hardly see your face. We thought will anyone bother? And then we got someone who had flown in from Greece especially and had been looking forward to this tour for 18 months.”

The tour takes you under the city and into an atmospherically lit cavern that resembles a mini grand canyon where we stand looking at a brick wall. “Building the side of the port out of brick wasn't a great thing when you have huge ships coming in and bashing against it. But Liverpool learnt from its mistakes. They never built one out of brick again,” Yazz explains.

Underneath Liverpool One you can visit the Old Dock and see the 300 year old brick wall.

Down here I am reminded of the scouse Willy Russell character Shirley Valentine, who spent her entire day talking to a wall. But I can also imagine the tide pushing in and out, drawn by the moon, into this corner of Liverpool. I can imagine the workers on the dockside shifting bags of cotton and tobacco and tea. I can hear seagulls fighting over scraps and imagine what emigrants felt as they said goodbye to their loved ones and made for an unknown life in the new world. This port in its heyday handled 41% of world trade and I consider how Liverpool has come full circle, building its hugely successful shopping centre directly on top of its hugely successful dock. That's why the WAGS spend so much money. This city has shopping in its blood.

Danny and Yazz don't agree about everything. They argue cheerfully about how Liverpool was named, with Yazz snorting about Danny's King John theory. But they both agree that Liverpool One is good for the city and talk about how bleak the Albert Dock was twenty years ago, “Now everyone is back here again. Liverpool One acts as a fantastic link for the waterfront. We get people flying in all the time from other parts of the world who want to figure out how they can connect up their waterfronts and city centres.”

Yazz has no trouble keeping the boys engaged

Lavatory humour takes over as the lads explain how the dock closed and eventually turned into a big toilet, with 30 families excreting their waste beneath the walls. They impress the kids with the news that this all had to be cleaned up by an archaeologist with a toothbrush.

And then it's all over, and we return to ground level. “As we say in Liverpool, it's chucking out time,” the double act grin. They then wander off to do their next tour as we stand blinking and rubbing our eyes in Liverpool One; the shining beacon of shopping built on the foundations of an icon of world trade.

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Liverpool: The Friendly City

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 21:18:00 +0000

Liverpool's public commitment to Peace: The John Lennon Peace Memorial

"When they say 'Ello love, you alright?' - It's like nothing else.”
Liverpool writer Carla Lane (quoted at the Museum of Liverpool.)

As a child growing up as a 'woollyback' (i.e. someone who lived just outside Liverpool), I wasn't aware people in Liverpool were different. Although I do remember that getting on a bus was problematic if you ever wanted to get off in a hurry; everyone had a life story and any ear was good enough. I’ll never forget the day I got trapped in a giant group hug on the top deck of a number 31, half the passengers wiping tears of joy off the other half. That was the day Margaret Thatcher was unceremoniously dumped as Prime Minister. She was particularly unpopular in this left leaning city.

Liverpool's an incredibly friendly place, even in the less glamorous parts of town .

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is Liverpool is a friendly place (unless you’re a Thatcher). And it’s not just me that thinks so. It's been named UK’s Friendliest City twice by readers of Condé Nast Traveller, most recently in September 2011. I can’t imagine how much hugging and loving there must have been at the finals with so many friendly contenders in one place.

I think we’re a pretty friendly lot where I live in Cumbria, especially compared to my experience in London. I mean at least we all say ‘Hiya’ in the street, even to strangers. But put us beside Liverpudlians and we start to look like we’re scowling. Liverpool is just in another league.

The owner of The Joker Boat starts calling me 'Kirst' two minutes into our second conversation; no one has called me Kirst since I was at school. People passing the boat ask to come in and have a look and I wonder if they’re going to stay for tea. And when Stuart is out taking pictures, he’s accosted by a youth with a spray can.

"You wanna meet me mate? He does this graffitti"

“I see you're taking pictures of graffiti. Do you like graffiti?”
“Errrr..I was trying to capture the contrast between cathedral and graffiti...” starts Stuart.
“My mate Stok did that graffiti. Just type his tag into the net and you’ll get a YouTube of ‘im and his stuff. Or I can show you if you like?” says Stuart’s new friend.
“Errr…”
“I like to get out and do photos of ‘em you know.. I could show the one near Bold Street..”

On our first night in the city we find ourselves walking through the graveyard of the Anglican Cathedral. I’m a little uneasy about this; it's dark, secluded and unlit, and like all graveyards has an edgy feeling. As we wind past the gravestones, I sense a hoodie shaped shadow in the trees. Why is a hoodie hanging around a graveyard? In Toxteth? Pusher? Robber? Druggy?

If you think Liverpool's Anglican Cathedral looks scary, you should try the graveyard

“A'right mate. How ya doing?” The man greets us with enthusiasm, pulling his hoodie tighter. Dark i’n’it, cold too. I've lost me dog. In the trees. Messy!”

A small dog bounds out of nowhere, flying across graves and scooting to a halt in front of us, then launches itself onto our thighs. The kids scream and run away.

“Don’t worry that’s the small one. Oy Messy. Back off, leave them alone,” says the young guy, trying to grab his puppy. The dog runs in and out of our legs while the scouse guy circles us shouting at the dog. “Messy. Stop it. Messy!”

“It's ok, he's not that messy,” I reassure him.

“Messy’s his name.” Then his expression changes. “No, Messy, not on her white coat! Sorry love, did he mess your coat? You bad dog, you messed her lovely coat.”

Now I'm feeling a bit self conscious, wearing a white coat in a graveyard and feel it's time to move on. But Messy’s having none of that. As we try to walk on he circles us, this friendly messy dog, leaving his hoodie master behind looking for the big dog. Messy follows us all the way to the top of the graveyard and into the street.

“He'll get lost. We'll have to take him back,” I say, panicking that we're about to get a dog for Christmas, and for life. I grab Messy and march him down the path, back to his owner, who is very pleased to see us.

“A'right love. You're a superstar you are.” He is so friendly I fear he is going to hug me.
On this dark night, in this edgy place, the hooded youth, his dog and I are bonded. On this chilly night this graveyard is full of warmth.

In the graveyards and the shopping malls, friendliness is everywhere.

Conde Nast readers were so right. Although I bet they never checked out the graveyards.

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Sleeping with The Joker

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Tue, 20 Dec 2011 20:09:00 +0000

The Joker Boat is no joke. It's for real, in the heart of Liverpool, on the Salthouse Dock

A famous villain is in town. And I don't mean in the panto. In Liverpool's Salthouse Dock, strings of fairy lights pick out red lips and a white face, swaying and twitching in the black. Sirens blast past on the main road, adding to the urban noise. We walk down an icy ramp, unsure of what lies ahead, not knowing we are about to be seduced by The Joker.

The boat, named after the world's biggest trickster, immediately delivers on surprise. Two halves of the eerie face split apart, teeth flying into the wind. A man's face appears, brightly lit from behind. We are greeted by a blast of human warmth in the shape of Alfie; boss of Hollywood Limousines and owner of our floating luxury apartment.

“Welcome to Liverpool. Come on in.”

Beyond this pasty face and ruby lips lies a few days of luxury..

We spill into our new home for the next three days and soon discover that The Joker is as bright on the inside as it is purple on the outside. The kitchen is gleaming, the bathroom furnishings seem to be made of glitter and a huge TV fills one of the walls. The kids are immediately drawn to a set of fuzzy little men kicking a ball around a pitch. Alfie slots glasses onto each of their their faces.

“3D,” he grins, before giving us a tour of the six berth boat that we found on the new accommodation service Wimdu.

This is floating accommodation with Hollywood style

On this Hollywood themed barge, movies feature heavily. The kids squeal as they realise there is a TV and DVD player in every bedroom, with a satellite dish providing hundreds of free channels. A life size picture of Marilyn Monroe sparkles above the sofa; her sequinned eyes seemingly following us around. But this isn't some Hollywood wannabe boat; apparently it's the real deal.

Alfie explains he found the Joker in an LA scrapyard when he was in the USA looking for engines and gear boxes for his fleet of seven limousines. “It was stuck in a corner painted in all these mad psychedelic colours. The six chrome turrets outside on top used to hold The Joker's machine guns,” he tells us. The boat was used as the location for the celluloid villain's home in the Batman movies. But unfortunately while Jack Nicholson survived the Hollywood editing process, his fictional home ended up on the cutting room floor. Further mishaps occurred when important film memorabilia sunk on the way to the UK when the side of the boat collapsed. But Alfie has made up for this by the luxury refit; The Joker is now something of a purple palace in a city that really knows how to do bling.

The Joker is currently alone in the Salthouse Dock, right next to the Albert Dock, but will soon be joined by two more Hollywood themed boats; Yellow Submarine; filled with Beatles memorabilia, and a partly submerged Titanic. As Britain marks the centenary of the sinking this year, it's a timely addition.

The Big Wheel may be outside the window, but the big attraction was the 3D TV

Alfie shakes our hands and departs, and we drag the kids away from the TV. Eventually. When they are tucked up in their purple cabin beds, we contemplate climbing onto the roof and 'dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight,' in homage to Batman's nemesis. But it's raining. And with underfloor heating, hundreds of channels of TV and six pairs of 3D glasses between two of us, we decide to curl up with a movie instead. No one said The Joker always had to party.

Fantastic, quirky accommodation, right in the heart of Liverpool

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It's like a dream but better...

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 08:30:00 +0000

The Anglican Cathedral, Liverpool after the Holly Bough Carol Service

It's like a dream but better...

Fairy lit Christmas trees process down the aisle along with choristers, ministers, and The Pope. That's according to Cameron, who whispers it loudly as he passes. The rest of us smile politely at the Bishop of Warrington.

The Anglican Cathedral in Liverpool (not the wigwam shaped one - that belongs to the Catholics) is the largest in England and the annual Holly Bough carol service begins in semi darkness with Once in Royal David's City, sung by a solo chorister. It feels like he is alone amongst the vast arches and towering walls. But he isn't. At the end of the service, hundreds of people head through the gates, past the huge festive wreath, and down the stairs, to be swallowed up by this northern city.

“Is that our limousine over there?” It's likely. There are hundreds of people pouring out of Liverpool Cathedral on this dusty winter's evening. None of them are being picked up by an 8 seater Hummer.

Except us.

This eight person Hummer is one of the smaller Hollywood Limos

“How far are we going?” asks Cameron. I tell him it's a five minute ride.

“How much does that cost?” Cameron asks the driver, who gets out to open our doors and take a picture.

“About fifty grand,”says the driver.

“For five minutes! That's really expensive,” my son cries.

“I don't know about that. Some of our other limo's are worth up to a hundred and fifty grand,” says the driver.

“How many limousines does he have?” whispers Matthew, impressed. Having just watched a season of Young Apprentice on TV, he's interested in wealth creation.

There's much excitement inside the limo

The limo proceeds through town to much excitement within, and absolutely no excitement from the city of Liverpool. They are used to party buses and limousines.

“Dad's got a palm tree on his cheek,”

“I've got lasers going through my stomach!”

“I've got this neat button on my seatbelt. I don't even have to release it!”

“What if we had a crash. All those champagne glasses would be broken.”

The driver tells us we should have been here last week, when Herbert the celebrity hairdresser paid for Santa come over from Lapland, so local children could meet him. “It cost thousands,” he says. My children take this in, and I suspect they're starting to think everyone in Liverpool is seriously rich.

For a change Cameron is quiet. He's peering out through the front, over the shoulder of the driver. His face is framed by the illuminated Big Wheel.

"It's like a dream but better..." The Liverpool Wheel from the Hollywood Limo

“It's like a dream, but better,” he says quietly. The Pope, Santa, a limousine and now a giant Ferris Wheel. And we've only been here two hours. What more could this city provide for a nine year old in search of a little excitement?

The Joker Boat.

It's no joke.. it's the Joker Boat, Liverpool Albert Dock

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I'm taking the kids back to my Liverpool childhood

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Thu, 15 Dec 2011 08:30:00 +0000

Ferry Across the Mersey. I know it so well from growing up here.
Image: The Mersey Partnership

It all starts online, like most things do these days. I am looking for accommodation for a pre-Christmas city break. I don't really have a location in mind. Barcelona perhaps? Or Edinburgh? Wimdu, the site I'm searching, has around thirty thousand properties spread across the world, so it's not like I'm going to be short of choice.

For some reason I click on accommodation in Liverpool. Now if I had to make a list of places I'd choose to go on holiday, Liverpool probably wouldn't be at the top. OK sure, it's a UNESCO World Heritage site and a former European Capital of Culture and a fashion icon and a football paradise and a Beatles Mecca. And it has what I call the whacker ducker, or if you're not Scouse, a yellow floating duck bus. But I was born and brought up a few miles away from the city and Liverpool was our nearest decent shopping centre. Basically I did Scouse for eighteen years and then I moved on.

But yet...

There's this boat. It's a houseboat in The Albert Dock. And it's not just any old boat. It provided the home for Jack Nicholson's Joker character in the Batman films. The current owner rescued it from an LA scrapyard where it had been left to ruin. He moved it to Liverpool and renovated it; installing 3D TV and six sets of goggles for holidaying movie fans. And it's available for a family in the run up to Christmas.

It's no joke. You can rent this boat! Image: Wimdu/Alfie Mack

“Is it really The Joker's boat?” asks Cameron.

“I'm going to watch the film again and compare it to the website,” says Matthew, the sceptic.

“I don't like The Joker. He's scary. Does he still live there?” enquires a rather worried Hannah.

The promise of a limousine transfer from Lime Street station seals the deal. But what else will we do in Liverpool? Much as I love my Mum, I don't want to spend a week visiting her. I look around for other local activities and remember that The Tate Liverpool has its home in the Albert Dock. I discover it's current exhibition is Alice and Wonderland. Suddenly we have a theme.

Having a theme for a journey is very important to us. It gives the trip a point. It gives Stuart and I something to focus on, and helps us get the children on board. And it makes it all more interesting. From a music tour of The Danube, to a pilgrim tour of Spain, our best trips have always had a clear theme and purpose.

The Liver Building is so familiar from my childhood, so childhood is our theme.
Image: The Mersey Partnership

I decide our trip to Liverpool should be all about accessing my long buried inner child, and seeing what the city can offer my small people. Alice in Wonderland has been a favourite book for several generations of my family. My children and I will go and find out more about Alice and her creator Lewis Carol. We may also venture into The Curious Garden, to ride the tea cups and experience some wonderland activities. As a cake obsessed family, we plan to have our own Mad Hatter's tea party too.

“Did you know that the name of the Mad Hatter is never mentioned in the book?” asks Matthew, a mine of information. “Lewis Carol called him something else, but I don't know what.”

We will find out. And sticking with galleries, The Bluecoat is asking children from all round the world to donate their milk teeth for a unique sculpture made up of teeth and resin called Palaces.

“The tooth fairy took all my teeth,”exclaims Hannah. “Where does she live? Can we get them back?” As we have no current address for the magical tooth collector, we borrow a milk tooth recently dislodged from the mouth of Hannah's best friend, and we set up a visit to the gallery.

I think about all the times I visited The Bluecoat with my own mother. And then I get to wondering. What if this trip is a voyage into my own childhood too? Maybe we should take a ferry across the Mersey like I used to, go and see the statue of The Beatles that I used to worship, visit the building my Dad used to work in; and take a drive through the Wallasey tunnel?

The Liverpool Big Wheel. Image: John Morris MOZ278

It turns out that the Wallasey tunnel isn't the only impressive underground passage in the city. The tourist board arrange for us to tour the city tunnels with a local guide. And what child doesn't like a tunnel? We can also see the city from above too; from a pod in the Big Wheel that looks down on those proud Liver Birds and the world famous architecture of an industrial city that once dominated the globe. Speaking of architecture, the kids are looking forward to a visit to the Empire State Building - well, a model version of it made out of thousands of Bayko Bricks and now in the Museum of Liverpool. And we are following in some quality footsteps; The Queen of England called in recently to check out this new museum.

Perhaps we might finish off the trip by helter skeltering through Liverpool One; spiritual home of shopping obsessed WAGS (Wives and Girlfriends). I've heard all the women walk around it in their curlers in preparation for a big night out and I pass that information onto the children who are very impressed, and then they ask me what a curler is. Oh the GHD generation!

So. Liverpool it is for our pre-Christmas break; staying in The Joker's former home, shrinking ourselves down to the size of Alice for a child's view of the city, visiting the tooth fairy's workplace and spinning high above the city I grew up in. And perhaps while rediscovering my inner child, I may end up rediscovering myself. I'm not sure that ever happened in Gotham City.

Read more from our Liverpool Adventures:

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Night Hike: Making the Familiar Unfamiliar

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 22:14:00 +0000

Fuzzy faces in the moonlight

Three faces glow, lit up with torches in the pitch black. A big round one, a smaller blonde one, and a tiny bespectacled one. Like rural versions of the ghosts of Christmas, past, present and future.

“Can we go now?”
“Yes, follow me.”
“No, no, follow me. I'm the leader”
“Will the moon follow us?”
“Definitely.”
“Can we follow the moon?”
“Only if it's going to Burton Services.”

This isn't a Christmas story. This is an Adventure story. But it's not a life changing story. It's not even a very exciting story. It's the story of a Friday night hike to a motorway motel less than a mile away from our house. It's a walk we've done a thousand times, to a place we've been to a thousand times. It's where we go when we run out of petrol, or milk or chocolate. But we've never worn a head torch to go there. This is what makes it an adventure. Even the moon gets excited about going to a Travelodge if everyone is wearing a head torch.

The Stairway to Heaven? Has anyone ever called a Travelodge that?

“Mum... how long have we been walking?”
“About ten minutes.”
“How long have we got to go?”
“About ten minutes.”
“What's a Travelodge?”
“A service station with beds.”
“Do people normally walk to one?
“No.”
“Why are we walking to one?”

We are walking to a Travelodge because it is there. Actually we are mostly walking to it because we got a room in it for twelve quid by booking three months in advance. And we thought it might be fun to go in the dark. We know from our cycling that everything sounds, smells and looks slightly different; more vital somehow in the dark. The wind feels colder on our cheeks, the fields seem emptier, the the black seems blacker. Our backpacks are full of expectation and our boots are full of tread. Well theirs are. While the kids and Stuart are all properly booted up, for some reason I am in my normal shoes. And we are walking along the canal. And it's been raining for days and the ground is swampy. My soles slip and slide and I am losing my grip.

“This is really annoying. No one told me it would be muddy.”
“It's not that muddy.”
“Aargh. I've just gone over.”
“Why are you wearing those silly shoes, Princess Fiona?”
“They're all I've got.”
“Rubbish.”
“They are. The kids have all got waterproof boots. I haven't. I never spend anything on myself any more.”
“Apart from coffee's. You buy lots of coffees.”
“Can I have roller skates for Christmas.?”
“No you can't.”
“Why not?”
“Because you'll leave them on the stairs and I'll go flying. With a coffee.”

We turn off our torches and absorb our surroundings. I point out the only constellation I know, The Plough. We walk on. But what's that noise? We pause in the moonlight. All around us there's the sound of people shushing each other in a library.

“It's the sheep, squelching in the muddy grass.” Sure enough, the sheep are slipping and sliding too.

What's that shape? Over there in the field?

We walk on. But what's that shape? We turn on our headtorches and shine them into the canal. I am startled as the amber glow picks out visions of whiteness swimming slowly towards us out of the darkness.

“It's swans. They're going for an adventure too. They're very peaceful aren't they?”

We walk on. But what's that smell? An earthy, burny smell that reminds me of firework night.

“It's the Farmers burning.”
"The Farmer's aren't burning."
"OK they're burning stuff."
“Why are they burning stuff?
“Maybe they are trying to keep warm.”

We walk on. But what's that light? It's the service station, shining like a beacon next to the M6. Above it is the almost full moon. It has led us here after all. Like the kings in the nativity following the star.

There is a room in the inn. But only for four. We have to sneak Hannah through the doors when no one is watching. We bring gifts, but not gold, frankinsense or myrrh. We bring bacon butties, beers for the adults and the Dangerous Book for Boys board game for the whole family. We kick off our boots and fall out with each other over the building of a cardboard raft. We are given six counters and told to make the shape of the 'Ursula Minor.' But I only know The Plough. Then there's a tornado and everyone has to give back their raft to the banker. We all lose.

We turn the lights out and the headtorches off. The adventure is almost at an end.

“Can you see the moon?”
“No it's gone to bed.”
“Do moons dream?”
“Of course they do.”
“What do moon's dream of?”
“Perhaps they dream of adventures like this.”
“I think they dream of cheese.”

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31 gift ideas to encourage kids to get out and adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 14:02:00 +0000

What's on your list for an adventure filled Christmas?

Christmas. A time for mooching around toy departments in search of a family board game everyone will agree to play without a declaration of war. A time for buying e-gizmos that encourage kids to talk to you less and stay in their bedrooms more. A time for filling your trolley with sugar and standing back to watch as they climb the walls.

A time to go shopping. Or let me re-phrase that; a time for me to go shopping. Like many men in many households across the globe, Stuart doesn't do shopping. He's not a natural gift buyer and Christmas is something of a challenge for him, usually involving a last minute dash to the supermarket on Christmas Eve to grab a few bottles of bubble bath and some Green and Black's. The consumerism drives him mad, and all the advertising get him in a lather.

“T'is the season for goodwill? Yes. T'is the season to be jolly? For sure. But t'is the season to waste money on pointless gifts? No, sorry,” he mutters as I parcel up gifts for his nieces.

“I'm not Scrooge,” he claims as the kids tease him about his miserly tendencies.

“Yes, you are,” they reply.

“It just has to be done with a little thought,” he says, going off to have a cup of tea and a think.

In my mind that's progress. If he's willing to get involved in sourcing gifts with a 'point', it saves me time and saves arguments when the bills come in. Although Christmas is on the doorstep, there are still empty stockings lying around and present shaped holes in my Christmas shopping list. And it's not like I enjoy buying pointless gifts. If he can come up with the perfect gifts for an adventurous family then he should be encouraged. I make him a cup of tea. I heat up a mince pie and sit him down with a laptop.

“Right. A list of Christmas gift ideas that don't cost the earth and make us a better family or at least get us out of the house. You have one hour. Go.”

Here's what he's come up with: Stuart's list of things that give Christmas shopping a 'point' and his family a little adventure. Being Stuart, bless him, he's written me a short catalogue and even sent me the links! I won't be buying them all, so if you fancy any of them for your own family then do feel free to go shopping. But make sure you do it before Christmas Eve.

Stuart's gift suggestions

20 gift ideas to encourage kids to get out and adventure

Why shouldn't Santa help inspire family adventures? After all the pre-Christmas season is even called Advent, a time of looking forward and preparing for the coming of something special; two activities that are always part of our adventures together. If you're into gift giving there's all kinds of possibilities for adventure inspiring gifts. I've been looking for things to suit all budgets, things that might inspire kids and families to get our and get active together. And this is the list I'm sending Santa, full of ideas for stocking fillers and larger gifts for teeny, tweeny and bigger adventurers. Of course I trust he won't forget to add the chocolate coins, satsuma, energy bar and toothpaste. It wouldn't be a proper Christmas stocking without them.

Gift ideas for teeny adventurers

An Adventure Book. Whether its fiction or non-fiction there are loads of books out there that stimulate the imagination. A good adventure book can help develop an interest in adventure without ever having to leave the house! And this may generate the enthusiasm needed to get out there and try it for themselves.

The Boys Book of Adventure, published by Buster Books, is boyish in character but not just for boys. It's full of activities designed to ignite the imagination and get kids thinking like adventure heroes. Once they've figured out how to deal with the challenges and sticky situations in this book, they'll likely be keen to test their hard won skills in a few sticky situations of their own making. If they prefer fiction then why not try one of the Bear Grylls Mission Survival series of stories of outdoor heroics. Or point them towards old favourites like Swallows and Amazons, set on an island in the Lake District. Or for very little ones, what about Enid Blyton's Famous Five books: five kids and a dog off out having adventures on their bicycles, like in Five Go Adventuring Again.

A mountain whistle. A small but important gift that's good for more than just annoying people. A Mountain Whistle is an essential piece of outdoor kit for raising the alarm in an emergency. Get you kids one and teach them how to use it, not just to annoy you or each other but how and when they can use it to raise an alarm if in trouble outdoors. You'll probably regret it around the house, but it could save the day if they end up in trouble outdoors.

Pocket Handwarmer. It's not always easy to persuade kids out on a cold winters day. But what if it's a chance to try out their new Hand Warmers Sometimes little things like this can tip the balance, making this a practical and perhaps inspirational stocking filler or should that be pocket filler.

Silk Balaclava. Great for SAS games but also brilliant for outings on cool days or as an underlayer when the mercury drops below zero. Braver souls could use this Silk Balaclava for camouflage on a night hike or to keep your head warm while sleeping out.

A Headtorch. Kids love torches, for reading under the covers, lighting a den or exploring the house with the lights out or in a power cut. So, why not equip them properly?

Buy them an LED head torch and take them out to test it on a local night hike. Head out on a local trail, perhaps one you know well to start with, and see how unfamiliar even the most familiar places can be on a dark night with only a torch to light the way. They'll love strapping it on their head and leading the way, like a proper explorer.

Spork Kit. A neat cross between spoon and fork. Small children like the novelty of this and you may find they want to eat with it every day. Sporks are great for picnics and camping. For that extra special person, or those with destructive tendencies you could even go for the ultimate ultra-light, ultra strong Titanium Spork.

Gift ideas for tweeny adventurers

A Swiss Army Knife. Every outdoor boy (and quite a few girls too) dream of owning their own Swiss Army knife. Everyone knows the orginal Victorinox Swiss Army Knife with its shiny red case emblazoned with the Swiss flag. Once they have one of these in their pocket kids will be desperate to go out for the day to carve sticks, etch their name on fallen logs, and shave tinder for a fire. And you'll get to keep yours to yourself.

A Local Map and Map Cover. Some people will tell you paper maps are old fashioned, but they're still a great way to study and explore the local environment. You can look at them together, write on them, fold them anyway you want and they never run out of power. A large scale 1:25000 or 1:10000 map of your local area will show all kinds of details and is a great way to spot things you can go and explore, and for practicing navigation. And with a good waterproof map cover you can get out and about whatever the weather knowing that even if you get wet, your map won't.

Wind up Torch/Radio. If they're going to take a gadget out with them, why not make it an eco-friendly, useful one. Our kids love tuning into comedy in the tent. And when they've finished winding up each other they love fighting over who is going to wind up the torch, so perhaps one each might be the answer.

Firelighter. Campfires are great fun but you don't have to go camping to have one. And you don't need matches to start one. Get your kids a Bear Grylls firelighter and they can learn about and practice another great survival skill, starting fires, under appropriate supervision! Why not have a camp fire in the garden, roast some marshmallows, bake some potatoes, sing a song or two and enjoy a little camp camaraderie in your own back yard.

Hydration System. Keeping hydrated when out and about is important, especially if you’re exercising. Survival expert Bear Grylls says you can only survive a matter of days without water. But who's going to carry it? Hydration packs are a ‘cool’ way you can get kids to carry their own water. And if they carry their own it gives them a bit more responsibility and independence and means less for you to lug.

First Aid Kit or Book. Do your kids know what to do when they have an accident? Do they know how to treat cuts, stings and grazes? Do they know basic first aid and how to get help? With a small first aid kit they can take some basic supplies with them on their adventures and learn how to clean and treat any cuts and grazes they pick up. Most first aid kits come with some basic instructions on how to deal with particular emergencies which can be useful for learning about first aid basics. If they want to learn more you could even add in a little first aid for kids book. This present can even be adapted for the little ones. Our daughter loves princess plasters and especially loves treating dolly's cuts and grazes in the dolly hospital.

A compass. Maybe this sounds a bit old fashioned in the days of Sat Nav, Google Maps and GPS, but do your kids know how to take a bearing or navigate if the GPS batteries run out? Do they know their East from West or how to figure out where they are using only map and compass? Get them a calibrated compass and they can use it to learn the skills of navigation. With time and practice they'll be able to find their way safely around even in the dark, without need for expensive electronic aids. These skills save getting lost and in the extreme save lives.

Survival Kit. Bear Grylls is a name well known to many kids not just as the Chief Scout but also for his reputation as a survival expert. He's not a bad role model for kids interested in the outdoors and can teach us all a thing or two about survival. This little Survival Kit's mantra is: Stay prepared. Stay alive. Enough said. If you want to live, you need this.

Bigger ideas for bigger adventurers

Day sack or rucksack. It's about time they shouldered some of the load don't you think? Older kids can carry their own waterproofs, snacks, drinks and spare clothes while little ones should at least be able to carry their own toys. A small day sack is a great multipurpose gift, useful for everyday activities like going swimming or to play sport as well as carrying gear on an outdoor adventure. If you want to encourage journeys a little further afield, then why not go big and get a full size ruck sack.

Pop up tent. Now you don't need to go camping to go camping. But you do need a tent. These pop-up tents are not just in fashion, they're practical too and often not too big for indoor use! Why not turn your living room into a campsite for a night, have your own mini festival, throw in some duvets and pillows and have all the comforts of home and the excitement of sleeping in a tent. No need for pegs or guy ropes. Or pop it up in the yard and camp in the garden. Or pop it in the car or on your bike and go camp 'for real'. Kids love camping, and it's especially exciting if they can do it in their own tent. And these ones really are a cinch to put up.

Survival Bag. More than just a giant plastic bag (although that's what it is), a simple survival bag is big enough to get inside in an emergency to help keep you dry and warm until help arrives. They're also pretty good for keeping your bum or your gear dry on a very wet day. Bigger kids could even use them for a night sleeping out under the stars, with an appropriate sleeping bag. If you want something to help survive more extreme conditions (and are willing to spend a little more) what about a blizzard survival bag. Or if you want something to help shelter the family if conditions get bad, or just for a more exciting lunch stop, what about a group shelter?

Bivi Bag or Sleeping Bag. If you want to go one better than a survival bag, then what about a proper waterproof breathable b ivi bag, designed for sleeping out without need for a tent. With one of these in your rucksack and an appropriate sleeping bag, rated for the conditions, you're all equipped for a night of luxury under a million stars. Add in a copy of the Book of the Bivi and it's probably all the nudge you need to give older kids to get them out roughing it for a night or two.

What inspiring adventure gifts will you be giving this Christmas? We'd love to hear your comments. Click comments below and tell us what you think.

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My Dad taught me to be an everyday explorer

noreply@blogger.com (Stuart (Family Adventure Project)) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 08:29:00 +0000

There's a lot of life lessons to be had on a simple walk in the woods

Way back when I was a child, Sunday afternoons usually meant one of two things: staying at home with mum watching an old musical on TV, or going out somewhere with Dad. I loved those lazy Sundays stretched out by the fire watching Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers or out in the fresh air muddying boots. Perhaps that’s where my love of music and the outdoors comes from.

As a kid I was happy with either choice, but also easily swayed. Let’s just say Dad was pretty good at dropping hints about visiting the sweet shop as part of his excursion, while Mum had a less appealing propensity to nod off in her chair.

Dad was no Shackleton, Mallory or Scott
The walks with Dad weren’t major expeditions. There were no fells, mountains or snow fields. There were no bikes, boats or walking boots. There was rarely a map, compass, picnic or day sack. He was no Shackleton, Mallory or Scott; he was an accountant who worked in the City and lived in the suburbs. But still each weekend he managed to find somewhere new he wanted to go. And took whichever of us kids he could persuade to go with him. Always somewhere different. And rarely more than half an hour from home.

I may have gone for the sweets but I learnt a deeper lesson

At the time I didn’t think there was anything special about these walks, apart from the sweeties. We’d drive to a place where grey gave way to green, find a bridleway or footpath, tromp through mud, kick up leaves, cross fields and stiles and an hour or so later find our way back. We didn’t seem to do much, didn’t talk much, didn’t even walk much but always came back with a pocketful of sweets and ready for cake.

These unexceptional walks taught important lessons
There was nothing exceptional or particularly educational about these walks, but in taking me on them Dad implicitly taught some important lessons. He taught me it’s good for families to get out and do simple things together, with or without Mum. He showed me there’s always more to discover close to home, new places to go, things to see and do. And those Sunday afternoons he taught me to be an explorer.

Dad loved discovering a little path he’d not been down before. His excitement was palpable when he’d spot a trail he’d not noticed before or arrive at a junction and spy an unsigned track. Given the choice he always preferred to take the path unknown, for no other reason than to see where it led.

These mini adventures were not grand firsts; we didn’t discover new countries or make the first human footprints in anything other than dung, but that’s not the point. The point was he chose something that was new to him (and to us). He consciously and deliberately chose the path that was unfamiliar and showed us how be an explorer, in an everyday way, in our own backyard.

So many paths to strange and unfamiliar places

He never told me to explore, he showed me how to
Perhaps he hoped a little of his explorer spirit rub off on us. We never really got to talk about that. Perhaps he was quite content exploring footpaths locally, for he never travelled widely with us. And perhaps he only ever intended for us to do the same. But truth is he sowed a deeper lesson that has taken us much further afield. For life is full of paths and choices, ways we know and ways we don’t, and when I look back at deciding moments in my life now I can see my Dad at the trailhead junction.

I’m sure it’s his Sunday spirit that landed Kirstie and I at the Police Station in Candelaria Marcilla while on honeymoon in Patagonia. I know it’s responsible for us abandoning London and moving to a village in Cumbria without knowing anything about it. I’m pretty sure it’s played its part in us giving up jobs, cycling across New Zealand with toddlers and starting this Family Adventure Project.

I’ve a lot to thank my Dad for. I just didn’t know it at the time.

He also ruined my teeth, but in the circumstances I won’t hold that against him.

What life lessons did your parents teach you? We'd love to hear your comments. Click comments below and tell us what you think.

If you enjoyed this post you might also like: Kids need adventure. Parents need to teach them how.

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Kids need adventure. Parents need to teach them how.

noreply@blogger.com (Stuart (Family Adventure Project)) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 20:35:00 +0000

Kids want adventure. Parents think it's a good thing. So why doesn't it happen more?

Do you get bored with routine? Do you long for more adventure in your life?
Do you think your kids do?
Do you think it matters?

Research conducted by One Poll in the UK in May 2010 reported 85% of children age 6-12 longing for more adventure in their lives with 85% of parents saying adventure should be an important part of their children’s lives.

When I first saw these stats they were headlining a press release from a sticking plaster company, part of a campaign to encourage kids to get out more and parents to give them more free rein. While these are both things I believe in (even though I sometimes struggle to do them myself) something left me feeling a bit uncomfortable about this ‘research’.... commissioned by a sticking plaster company, encouraging kids to get out more; was this just a drive to increase cuts and grazes, sell more plasters and improve the bottom line?

Now perhaps that’s a little cynical, for the stats actually serve me well; they make a point I often make myself. Kids want to adventure. Kids need to adventure. As parents most of us know this. But sometimes we struggle to make it or let it happen.

So let me set aside my cynicism and share some more of the findings, without questioning the truth or motives behind them, for they do tell an interesting story and one that resonates with my experience.

Half of kids have never camped out?
According to this poll of 1500 parents and 1103 kids in the UK, over half of children have never camped out, not even in their back garden, nor laid down to watch the stars in the night sky or watched the sun rise. It makes me sad just writing this. These are not risky adventures nor activities that cost money, need training or require special equipment. Anyone can take a pillow and duvet out in the yard, look up in the night sky or get up early to see the sun. Come to think of it you could do all three in just one night. All you need is the idea, the will to make it happen and perhaps a little cajoling.

Can it be true? Over half of kids have never seen the sun rise?
Photo: Sunrise in Aland, 2010

But there’s more; in the sample polled:
• 50% of kids had never taken part in any adventure sports.
• 41% of kids had never taken part in a scavenger hunt.
• 44% of parents played outside as a child more than their kids do.
• 38% of parents said they’re more protective of kids than their parents were.
• 40% of parents said they don’t have time or money to do adventure activities with their kids.

So what’s going on here? Everyone thinks adventures are a good idea but somehow it’s just not happening. A case of cotton wool parenting? Perhaps, but this survey wasn’t sponsored by Johnson’s. Does it matter if kids don’t have the chance to get stings, cuts and grazes playing in the woods? Maybe to a company that makes plasters and commissions polls like this. But should more of us be bothered? Does it really matter if kids don’t adventure? To kids, families, communities, society at large?

The value of outdoor adventures cannot be underestimated
Well I think yes. The value of outdoor adventures, little or large cannot be underestimated. And it’s not just about thrills and spills or building a bank of rose tinted memories of childhood. Whether building a tree house, camping and stargazing, fishing on the old industrial canal, or exploring the local environment on foot or by bike; active adventures bring real health and developmental benefits. When children are helped and allowed to experience risk, even in a semi-controlled way, it helps develop their ability to deal with it and builds self-confidence. It encourages them to think for themselves and develops their resilience. It readies them for dealing with the risks and uncertainties that are part of the big wide world. Who doesn’t want active, healthy, resilient, confident, independent children? And don’t we need people like that in the world?

But there’s a bigger issue too. Child advocacy expert Richard Louv calls it “nature deficit disorder” and these stats sort of bear him out. According to Louv too many kids in today’s ‘wired generation’ live in a personal world that’s disassociated from nature. They may get to read Frozen Planet, watch Ray Mears World of Survival or play I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here, but that doesn’t give them direct, first-hand experience of nature and the ways of the natural world. And, according to Louv, this lack of nature in their lives has direct impacts for kids and society as we see in the current rates of obesity, depression and attention disorder. In his book, ‘Last Child in the Woods’, Louv makes a compelling research based case that suggests “direct exposure to nature is essential for healthy childhood development and for the physical and emotional health of children and adults.” And as we sit contemplating all manner of current and future environmental crises, we have to ask, how can we expect kids that don’t know nature to respect or care for it? And what is the future environmental cost for tomorrow’s kids of today’s epidemic of nature deficit disorder?

Do we really want to see the last child in the woods?

Big questions for sure, but Louv is no doom-monger, he’s got ideas and solutions too and not just of the sticking plaster kind. His book offers hope and guidance, practical ideas he thinks can help bridge the divide we’ve created between ourselves and nature. And many of them are opportunities that exist in our backyards; if we’re prepared to let our kids out there.

Is it parents not kids that are the problem?
Perhaps kids aren’t the problem; perhaps as parents we need to own up and acknowledge our part here. Remember, 85% of kids say they want more adventure, 85% of parents think that’s a good idea, but it doesn’t really happen much. Why? Because sometimes as parents we don’t let them. I know I don’t. Why? Because it’s part of my job to look after them, keep them safe and out of trouble. But isn’t it also my job to help them develop the skills and judgement they need to be safe when I’m not around, or when they escape the nest (with or without me knowing).

It’s not just kids that need skills to adventure safely. We parents need them too. We need the skills and confidence to lead our own mini family adventures, to show kids how to adventure and explore, and to give them the skills and know-how they need to be safe when they’re out and about on their own.

Kids are never too young to learn about risk, with appropriate safeguards

Kids need adventure. Parents need to teach them how.
Have you ever talked with your kids about dealing with risks or assessing danger? Told them stories of scrapes you got into as a kid and talked with them about how to get out of them? Actively encouraged them to go explore for themselves? Conversations like these help develop your child’s know-how, and your and their confidence that they know what to do in different situations. You don’t need to wait for a thunderstorm, an accident or until they get lost in the woods to talk about how to deal with it. Even a young child can memorise simple things like their address and phone number and learn how to get help if they need it.
If your kids want to adventure, talk about the activities they want to do, discuss what could realistically go wrong, talk about how best to handle that situation and if you don’t know what to do, look it up together, get some advice from someone with experience, or go and learn together. And then let them get on with it.

Kids want more adventure. They need it. It’s good for them.
Parents need to teach them how; how to adventure, spot risks, deal with problems if and when they occur.
And then let them off the leash to explore and learn for themselves.
Gradually, if you must!

Want to read more?

Convincing myself to give more freedom: Ten reasons to stop being a cotton wool parent
A personal account of how a parent can influence a child: My Dad taught me to be an everyday explorer.

If you'd like to read more about the importance of connecting with nature, we can personally recommend these books available from Amazon and other retailers.

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I wasn’t expecting a fairy tale Christmas but now I want one

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 21:13:00 +0000

It's way too early for Christmas but..

The fire is stoked. The children are too...
Thirty small people sit on the rug by the fire in a magnificent library, packed full of antique chairs and comfortable sofas. Their faces are pink with anticipation as they wait for their fireside story. Fairy lights line the mantelpiece and plump wreaths dangle silver and white baubles down the spines of some of the three thousand books that line the walls. The weather is cold; just right for snow. There is a hushed atmosphere. Soon Santa will be here.

It's exactly like the movies say it is. It's exactly like the adverts and magazine features say it should be. It's nothing like it is normally. This is a family Christmas Holker Hall style; a little different to family Christmas in our crumbly home.

Christmas comes early in Grizedale...
Initially I wasn't sure about doing Christmas three weeks early. It seemed a little weird. But our weekend in Grizedale is working out rather well. We have the party games on Friday night. We stomp up to High Dam to clear our hangovers, then reconvene for presents and cake at the hostel.

The hostel wasn't quite as glamorous as Holker Hall

Twenty two people, all gathered to celebrate Christmas on the 3rd December, because my sister in law is taking her family to Nepal for the winter. For my nephew and niece, aged two and three, this weekend is 'Christmas.' They open their presents with relish. All of the presents are for them. The rest of us have to wait a few weeks. But everyone is involved in preparing and eating Christmas dinner.

Feeling the spirit of this Quaker house, we all pitched and made 3rd December Christmas Day

By the time we've polished off four courses, and consumed the Thornton's chocolates that tumbled out of the centre of the 'adult' pass the parcel, we've all put on a few pounds. Then, after a good night sleeping it all off, it's time for our 'Christmas at Holker Hall' treat. But what with the dinner, the dishes and the debris of the morning after the night before, we haven't really given it much thought until we arrive.

Holker changed my view of Christmas
At Holker Hall we gather in the School Room ready for the children's craft sessions. Two adults are permitted to accompany each paying child, and everyone has made the most of that offer; there are parents and grannies at every table, sticking and gluing and crafting calendars and birdfeeders. When all the balding men have glittered foreheads it is time to proceed into the stately home for the main event.

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree...

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, the first thing that greets us is a tree. But comparing this to a normal tree would be like comparing a Redwood in California to a twig on a Kendal market stall. This is a towering giant of a pine, with fir cones still attached. It is decorated with white icicles, fluffy birds, delicatedly painted white baubles and white lights that send pinpricks up my spine. The fairy lights vie for attention with the fire, warming the cold halls of this 16th century home.

Icicles, snowflakes, baubles and birds

In the library it is time for Santa, but apparently his reindeers have been held up in the fields. By the time the guide finishes reading the story, the children's faces are even pinker. The adults are well settled into their sofas, like it's Christmas afternoon and one of our own grannies has fallen asleep, her mouth lolling open. The guide fills time in the absence of Santa, asking the children if they are excited about Christmas day coming soon.

“It's Christmas day now!” shouts my nephew.

“What would you like for Christmas?” the guide asks the children. From Fijit friends to Pokemon Diamonds, she is bombarded with requests that only make sense to those under the age of ten.

So, what would you like for Christmas?

“Doesn't anyone want a train or a dolly for Christmas?” she pleads. Blank faces all around.

“I got a mouse in a box and a book. And my sister got bunk beds and a pram.” shouts my nephew.

Santa’s in the building
The main man arrives, a vision of Christmas in red velvet and the dreamiest cotton wool beard. While he looks like he's been made in Lapland, he sounds like he's been made in Lancashire. He cheerfully hands presents around and departs for a quiet Sunday evening in with the elves. The children clutch their gifts and the room empties, leaving just a few families interested in exploring the house.

The big man arrives..

I have been around several stately homes and most of them fill me with a sense of the past mixed with a sense of boredom. But, perhaps because it is Christmas, or perhaps because this family keep this home alive, it feels like it has at least one foot in the present. There are as many cosy family pictures as there are portraits, and if you ignore the portraits and the picture of Princess Grace of Monaco, you could be looking at photos of any regular family. Of course it is grand and far removed from my experience of what a house actually looks like at Christmas, but it feels like a home.

A gift of light

And the owners Lord and Lady Cavendish while not in the house this afternoon are here in spirit. Lady Cavendish personally oversees the construction and hanging of all the elaborate decorations in the house, a project which takes two weeks to complete. I can imagine her directing the proceedings, supervising the meticulous detail and festive lighting in every room. Even an old milk churn has been commandeered and placed on the stairs for a 'maids a milking' tableaux. I can't imagine how big her attic is to store all this stuff. Stuart takes a picture and one of the guides asks him to refrain. “Lady Cavendish would prefer it if you didn't,” she advises. We both look round to see if the Lady of the house is watching.

Stuart points to my niece, having the time of her life riding back and forth in an antique rocker that cost three pounds when it was purchased and is now probably worth more than my house. “Wee! Wee!”she cries but it's unclear whether it's an appeal to go to the toilet or a request to go faster.

Inside and out, this place is big on Christmas

Taking home a piece of Holker Hall
“I don't want to go home,” says my nephew, disappointed that his third Christmas is drawing to a close.
“I do,” I say. “We need to get the tree up.”

In the shop I buy a single decoration. It also costs three pounds. In my head this decoration will be the key to transforming my family home into Holker Hall. This warm, joyful, peaceful fairy lit vision of homely Christmas will be my inspiration. This decoration will be the anchor. It will be like the magazines. It will be like the movies. It will be a happy Christmas.

We will make our own Holker Christmas

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Telling the universe: Mum's going to Iceland

noreply@blogger.com (Kirstie (Family Adventure Project)) — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 21:13:00 +0000

Rub your ears. It might just come true. Image Credit: Poptech

"Pssst. Shall I tell you a secret? I am going to Iceland."
There I said it. Now it'll come true. Apparently.

Well that's according to a TV programme I was watching last night with Stuart. There we were, the two of us, sitting in a line on one sofa like we were waiting for a bus. Anyway the programme we were watching wasn't actually about Mum going to Iceland. No, that's an advert. Keep up. The programme was about getting rich and the ideas behind books like Rich Dad Poor Dad. Now I don't want to get rich and Stuart's already a Poor Dad, but I do want to go to Iceland. But the people who did want to get rich had to speak their dream out loud. They had to project the idea out into The Universe and wait for The Universe to chuck back the cash. In fact they had to do a funny little dance like a dad at a wedding while rubbing their ear lobes and saying “I have a millionaire mind. I am an excellent money manager.” Apparently it's all about manifesting your future.

When I woke up this morning Stuart was rubbing his ear lobes and chanting “I am going to Iceland.”

I rubbed my eyes, mumbled, “I am a mole and I am going back into my hole,” and fell asleep again.

"I am going to Iceland.."

When I stumbled down for breakfast he was eating toast and doing a funny little dance like a dad at a wedding, rubbing his ear lobes and chanting “I am going to Iceland.” I raised my eyebrows. “You have to say it to make it happen.” he reprimanded.

“I’m going out for coffee.” I replied. “It’s happening. Now.”

At the end of the school day I turned up for our weekly family recorder class. Matthew was rubbing his earlobes and I had a really bad feeling he was about to tell me he was going to Iceland. But no, someone had thrown glitter in his hair. Hannah meanwhile was rubbing her cheek. But no, she'd picked a scab and it was bleeding. Cameron was dancing about in the doorway. “I’m going to the toilet” he said, before disappearing. The lesson was the usual mix of musical humiliation for me and rhythmic back patting for the others.

“I am going to play the recorder.” I said through gritted teeth, pushing my fingers over random holes. There was no way I could rub my ears.

“That's the spirit,” said Stuart. I blew a note through my nose to show him what I thought of his encouragement.

Later, in the bath I started thinking how there’s some truth in the idea that speaking something aloud makes it more likely to happen. Putting public markers in the sand has always worked for me. That's why I always announce my diets to as many people as possible. If I could I'd broadcast it on Radio Cumbria.

Going to Iceland is not a new idea. To be honest we've been talking about it for years. But it always seemed too far. And too expensive. And it is. But we've never actually told anyone we are going. Before now. And if I do tell someone, then I might be. Going. To Iceland.

My mum rings. She asks how I am. I rub my ears. “I am going to Iceland.”

I think me and mum were at cross purposes

“Oh I went to Iceland today, they've got a good deal on cheesy jalapeno bites at the moment,” she says.

“Not Iceland the frozen food shop. Iceland the country of ice and fire.”

“When are you going?”

“Next summer.”

“Oh.”

Her response isn't overwhelming. But it rarely is. She thinks Stuart forces me onto our more extreme adventures. But her lack of interest doesn't matter; she's just a conduit for getting the message out into The Universe. And now it's out there. Growing. Developing. Sprouting little northern fairy lights in time for Christmas.

“I am going to Iceland.” I say again.

“I am going to Iceland,” Stuart repeats. We both rub our ears and do that funny little dance.

Now I'm at it too..

Now we've said it, we've got to make it happen.

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