Welcome to my world. Won’t you come on in?

Yes, that’s right George here. All refreshed from a two-week holiday. Well, holiday from nursery that is. Not a going away type holiday to the seaside. How rich do you think we are?

When you are 3½ years old like me. Yes, it’s exciting isn’t it? Grandad says I really can officially refer to myself as being 3½ years old on my Blog now. He’s even changed the title, although its not really my 3½ year birthday until next Friday the 8th. But Grandad said it won’t matter. Just don’t tell anyone. So, promise you’ll not tell anyone. But I’m so excited. I’ve never been older than 3 years old before. And I’ve never definitely been as old as 3½. It feels so old.

But back to what I was saying… When you are 3½ years old, like me, there is the odd thing you do not know. I bet that surprised you. I bet you thought I knew everything or at least you were thinking I ought to know everything if I am 3½ years old. I do know loads more than when I was 1 year old but there are still the odd bits I don’t know and for which I am then dependent on my sister, cousins, fellow nursery inmates, books and TV for progressing my knowledge. Then, if I am desperate even a grownup. But grownups’ information is so unreliable. It is littered with Grandad jokes for a start. You can’t sort out what’s serious, a joke or just useless wrong information that is  just filling Grandad’s head.

You can’t trust a grownup’s information under any circumstances. For example, they always use the old chestnut that if the ice cream man is playing music it means he’s sold out of ice cream. Every kid in nursery knows that’s so completely untrue.

Anyway, it was half term, I’m on holiday from nursery, Sister Freya’s off school, Mum’s off work. Dad’s all over the place.

As Mamma and Grandad don’t work, they went away. They have to or otherwise it’s no half term holiday for them. Or so Grandad says. Cousin Rory and Cousin Ewan upped sticks and decided to go and join them, so their Mum and Dad tagged along too.

That left me and Sister Freya Johnny-Stay-At-At-Home-With-No-Holiday. That was because Dad had to work. But seeing everyone else having fun he squeezed a couple of days off and thank goodness we were able to go to our cousins’ holiday for a couple of days. That was some comfort, giving me an excuse to wear my brand-new Halloween suit.

But then the week after, when they came home, Dad booked a week’s holiday. Nice one Dad. Good timing. Good planning.

I ain’t complaining, not that you ever hear me complaining at any time. We got a good couple of days with our cousins. But this is where my concern about not knowing everything became very, very evident.

Apparently, we went to “THE LAKE DISTRICT” and it left me wondering why it was called “The Lake District”. But what is a “lake”? They just assume everyone, including 3 year olds (because I was not 3½ at that stage) know what a lake is.

To call it The Lake District you expect there to be lots of lakes but if you don’t know what a lake is or looks like it is meaningless.

To be honest if I was in charge of names, I would call it “The Mountain District” or “The Rain District” or best ever “The Puddle District”. I saw lots of all of those things for sure. But I was not sure I saw a lake because I do not know what one is.

To describe where we were in one sentence: everywhere we went it was raining, there were mountains to climb and puddles to splash in.

Mum, who is one of the more reliable grown up sources of information assured me it always rains in The Lake District. Grandad used to insist on taking her when she was a little girl (probably aged 3½) and it always rained. And her dad, Grandad used to insist they walk up mountains when all she wanted to do was go around shops. You can feel for her can’t you?

In the end I was told that the bit of water we found with boats on it that looked like a seaside without sand was a lake. I got a little over excited, no, a lot excited and went for a major paddle which got me into trouble. Apparently, you are not supposed to paddle with your socks on. How would I know, no one told me and don’t forget I’m only 3½ years old?

But I have a question for all the clever clogs who seemed to know you don’t paddle in socks. How else can you keep your feet warm, because “The Lake” is not warm to your toes and feet like “The Sea”.

There we go a couple more lessons learned. You see, always learning that’s me.

They celebrate Halloween in The Puddle Mountain District the same as we do in our area. We’d gone to some Halloween Parties the week before and continued in The Puddle Mountain District. We went to a Halloween Trail at Allen Bank at Grassmere. The property is owned by the National Trust. Mum joined the National Trust. The National Trust is a club for grownups and when you are in it you can visit lots of places for free.

I’ll tell you in a few months whether that was a good idea or not. That day certainly was brilliant. We did some crafts and drawing and colouring. Everyone did some knitting with real wool and knitting needles. That’s how woolly jumpers, hats scarves and gloves are made.

Grownups always have to complicate matters, in this case with using needles to make the wool into cardigans. I nearly made a brilliant coat without the use of any needles just the wool, but I had to leave it and go outside to do the Halloween Trail and find all the pumpkins.

All the wool we used was bright beautiful colours. There were, reds, royal blue, bright green and pinks. Grandad said all that wool had come from local sheep. That is such a Grandad joke. Like I said earlier you just cannot trust what grownups tell you. We saw hundreds of sheep in the fields in Puddle Mountain District but not one was bright red, royal blue, bright green or pink. They were all sheep colour. Grandad!

I loved the Pumpkin Trail. We children all did it together. At one point we went down this long dark tunnel that was full of spiders and webs. In the middle when it was at the darkest there was a blood curdling ghost scream that echoed throughout the tunnel. I was nearly 3½, so I wasn’t scared. It was a good job I was not 3 or I would have been terrified.

We all decided it was Grandad messing around and doing a Grandad joke. But he said it wasn’t him. So, it must have been a real ghost. Well I guess they are allowed a little fun at Halloween

I saw a real skeleton too. The first real one I’ve ever seen. I know it was real because it was half buried in the earth and had frozen as it had tried to scramble out of its grave. Spooky.

We had a Halloween Party at Cousin Rory and Cousin Ewan’s holiday house. The food was great. Very unhealthy burgers and sausages and gooey Halloween cakes. That’s why it was so good. We all danced like crazy till it was time for bed.

More famous than lakes in The Puddle Mountain District is Peter Rabbit. I have studied Peter Rabbit in great depth. It is one of the first things you have to do as a toddler. Before you are even 3 years old.  When we previously visited The Puddle Mountain District we went to Mr McGregor’s Garden and The Peter Rabbit Experience.

We didn’t this time. That shows the intelligence of grownups. How can you visit The Puddle Mountain District and not visit Peter Rabbit attractions? To avoid it takes a very special skill!

Cousin Rory and Cousin Ewan did visit it. They also went on a boat on the water. Maybe if I’d done that I would understand what a lake is. Just standing me on the edge of a bit of cold water and saying “This is a lake” is meaningless. I need to consume it get the feel of its expanse, understand why it is not a sea, river, stream or puddle.

And for my cousins: they tell me best of all they went to a Motor Museum where there were lots of red cars. My favourite cars in the world are red cars. They are the fastest cars on the planet and the coolest cars.

I think my Mum and Dad need to go on more parenting lesson courses, especially on “How To Give Your Child The Time of His (or her) Life in The Puddle Mountain District”.

To be honest good parents, really, really caring parents would have left us there with Mamma and Grandad.

But as you know I do not complain, I just get on with life as if nothing happened. That’s easy because nothing did happen.

Although, we did come home and have a great couple of weeks doing loads of Halloween events and parties and making Christmas lists.

But that’s another story or another Blog post.

Bye Bye, George.



I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.

Og Mandino


Happiness is…the Puddle Mountain District


“I had to stop drinking, cause I got tired of waking up in my car driving 90.” – Richard Pryor


Love is…putting on a smiley face


Your KissIs Sweet – Syreeta

Highest Chart Position: No.12 1st March 1975


Saturday 2nd November 2019

Numbat Day

Dynamic Harmlessness Day

November, 2019 is…Pomegranate Month

November, 2019 is…Native American Heritage Month




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