Girl Trip to Valencia Part Three

It was Sunday, so we wanted to go to church. Cousin N’s husband is a vicar, so we asked if we could go to a service. She looked nervous, and made us sign to say we wouldn’t tell embarrassing stories or make jokes or generally misbehave.

After showering in the cupboard, and coffee in the sunshine (I still haven’t found my old man smoking a cigar at an outside cafe – I drank Nescafe in the air bnb) we set off. Cousin L seems to be rather good at directions, so we followed her, through streets decorated with flags and lights ready for Las Fallas, and a lot of shut shops. Valencia wakes up slowly.

The church, an Anglican Church, was not especially pretty (only the Catholic churches are pretty) but people were smiley, which is always nice. There were lots of children, and we arrived in time for coffee, and met people, and remembered that Cousin N might kill us if we tried to be funny. Vicar Husband then preached an excellent sermon, teaching people about the character of God and how he wants to be involved in our lives. Unfortunately, he preached in Spanish (Vicar Husband, not God) so we didn’t understand a word of it. Apparently, the church does have an English service, but it’s earlier. I’m not sure why we went to the Spanish one. Personally, I understood every ‘Amen’ that was said.

Vicar Husband wore a long white surplice, which would have been excellent for changing under on the beach – not sure why he didn’t offer it. Perhaps it’s a hassle to iron.

Ate lunch at La Brasqueta – or at least, the others ate lunch, I was catching an earlier flight so was too nervous to do more than nibble. We ate ‘Russian Salads’, which were a sort of variation on a potato salad, and then I had a rice and meat dish (not paella, but similar). We ate, and chatted, and listened to the romantic sound of exploding fireworks all around us. (Seriously, avoid Valencia in March unless you enjoy explosions.) The weather was warm, there were trees, and balconies, and lots of Spanish people and it was rather lovely. I drank beer, Cousin C drank sangria.

Paella is a traditional Spanish dish, and we were told at church that in Valencia they have a ‘take-out’ paella place (churches are always a good source of local information). Apparently, you can order paella and you collect it in a huge metal paella dish. It comes with a plastic bag, and the following day, you put the empty dish into the bag, and return it to the shop. Sounds excellent.

After lunch, I went to the airport. It was such a lovely few days, I haven’t laughed so much in ages. Waited at airport for a very long time, as it was windy in England so the inbound flight was delayed. When I got to my seat on the plane, it was wet, so I asked for a cloth (and hoped it was water). After the general tension over locker space and too much luggage, everyone was seated, and we taxied away from the stand…and stopped. The pilot announced that due to the weather, we would be stationary for at least another hour. Rather took the edge off the trip.

Arrived home eventually, and enjoyed the luxury of curtains at windows. A fun weekend.
Thank you for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

***

anneethompson.com

A laugh-out-loud book about travelling the world with a family. From India to South America, and across most of Europe, this book has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

If enjoyed this, you will love my travel book. Available from an Amazon near you, as a paperback or kindle book (you can read it for free if you have a kindle).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Girl Trip Day Two

Day 2

Showered in excellent shower in cupboard-sized bathroom. Bruised elbows trying to get dry in there, so gave up and dried on mezzanine. Bathroom has another large, exposed window, (so am hoping no one was looking).

Walked through Valencia, which is very pretty, and very Spanish, with orange trees and fountains and apartments with balconies. We saw the outside of the bullring, and went into the pretty art deco railway station, which reminded me of the one in Portugal with its patterned tiles and beautiful ceilings.

We sat outside and had churros and hot chocolates. I was hoping to find an old Spanish man, smoking a cigar and drinking coffee (because this is what all Spanish men are like) but they were all hiding.

We walked passed the cathedral, and the old city gate, then walked along a dry river bed which is now Turia park.

 

 

Visited a lovely park next to the Fine Art Gallery, and enjoyed the sunshine (some of us enjoyed it more than others).

There were lots of unusual trees in the park. We saw some Moreton Bay fig trees – ‘Ficus macrophylla’ – which have arial roots that grow down from the branches, so they look like a tree from a magical land; and some trees with swollen trunks covered in fat spikes (ceiba speciosa).

But my personal favourites are still the orange trees.

 

Valencia, in March, is noisy. Don’t come if you have a headache. This is due to Las Fallas…Let me tell you about Las Fallas: This began, in the Middle Ages with San José, (Saint Joseph) who is the patron saint of carpenters.

The carpenters used to hang up planks of wood to support their candles when working through the dark winter months. When spring arrived, they would burn these planks, to celebrate the longer days and sunny weather. Over time, they started to put clothing on the planks of wood (not sure who thought that was good idea) and then they began to make them into effigies of well-known characters. These later became ‘ninots’, which are enormous figures that are made today, and paraded around the streets. As the burning of these elaborate ninots began to get out of control, the authorities decided to link it to St Joseph’s Day.

We didn’t see these (we weren’t there for that day) but we did see people in costume, and we heard lots of fireworks. Really, lots and lots of fireworks. Not the pretty ones that make you say “Aaah”. They just went bang. Sometimes very big bangs, which gave you a heart attack (or worse). It seems that every male (not just males, but mostly males) from the age of about 2 years upwards, buys fireworks to throw around. There are whole shops, whole catalogues, dedicated to the sale of fireworks that go bang. It was like living in a war zone (I imagine).


We stopped for ice-creams. I managed to order mine in Spanish (with a few prompts from Cousin N’s husband) but then, just as I was feeling very pleased with myself, the shop assistant went off-script, and started to say unexpected Spanish words. It was the most delicious ice-cream though (dolce de leche flavour).

We then drove to the beach. The beach was very cold. One of us decided to swim. I wasn’t tempted to join her, though the water was very blue. An unsuspecting passerby almost got a shock, and I was worried she might drown as our only strong swimmer wandered off with his dad, but all was fine, if damp. We stood on the beach, shivering, laughing and eating cheese and pimento sandwiches (which were delicious).

Thanks for reading. I’ll post the last instalment on Monday (if you sign up to follow my blog you won’t miss it).

***
anneethompson.com

If you enjoyed this, why not read my travel book? You can read it for free if you have a Kindle.

Girl Trip to Valencia

Caught the early morning flight to Valencia (very early). I only had a hand-luggage allowance, so was worried I would have to wear several layers and arrive looking like The Michelin Man, but everything fitted in my pull-along.

Met Cousins at Valencia airport. We were meeting to celebrate Cousin C’s big birthday, and were visiting Cousin N and family, who have moved to Valencia. Drove to their apartment in the city, and met their extremely cute labrador puppy. (Their children are also very cute, but I rather fell in love with the puppy.)

I was staying in an airbnb with Cousins C and L. New experience for me, so wasn’t quite sure what to expect (my sons stay in air bnb, so I wasn’t expecting ‘posh’).

We dumped our bags, and had a late lunch in Bar Pascualin. All lunches in Spain are late. Walked to Dolche de Leche cake shop, and spent several hours trying to decide which cake to buy. (Mouth is watering as I write this.) Chose a lemon meringue pie. It didn’t disappoint.

Drove to Lake Albufera and went on a boat. The sun was setting behind the mountains, the birds were wading amongst the reeds, and it was pretty perfect. There was some discussion about the origins of the lake – I think it’s a natural sea-water lake, which the Moors desalinated, so now it’s the largest fresh water lake in Spain…possibly in Europe…or even in the whole world…anyway, it’s big.

After tea, we went to our air bnb. Arrived at a large metal gate (very Spanish), and used our key to enter the lobby.

In the lobby was a lift, which closely resembled an upturned coffin (was certainly no bigger). We squashed inside, and Cousin C extracted her arm from rather aggressive sliding door which shut automatically, and we began to ascend. I hoped the coffin analogy wouldn’t be accurate – I certainly didn’t trust that the ‘emergency telephone’ would work if we got stuck. Arrived at the top floor, but still needed to go up a further flight of stairs. The stairwell was very dark, so Cousin C (the practical one amongst us) helpfully pressed the light switch. It didn’t seem to work, so she pressed it several more times. We then realised that actually, it wasn’t a light switch – it was a doorbell. (Spanish people disguise doorbells as light switches, I’m not sure why.) Being mature women, as soon as we realised we ran giggling up the stairs and locked ourselves into our apartment. Am hoping no one heard.

Spanish doorbell disguised as a light switch

The apartment is small, but has everything we need (except for curtains and blinds – I am rather partial to curtains and blinds). There was a blind over the door to the balcony, which took us longer than you might think to work out (practial Cousin C sussed it for us). The balcony is wonderful, and overlooks the whole of Valencia (well, a bit of it). I slept on the mezzanine with Cousin L. It was cosy, and rather lacking in a curtain/blind, so we woke when the sun rose.

 

I will continue this tomorrow, because I want to tell you about Fallas.
Thank you for reading.

Bye for now. Take care.
Love, Anne x

***
anneethompson.com

A laugh-out-loud book about travelling the world with a family. Taken from diaries written at the time, this book has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

If you enjoyed this, why not read The Sarcastic Mother’s Travel Diary? It will make you laugh, and you can read it for free if you have a Kindle…available from an Amazon near you.

Reading…Not reading…

We did a flying visit to Reading – have you been there? It’s rather pretty (at least, the part we were in was pretty). It reminded me a little of Bristol, with a river and lots of shops and places to eat.

I personally dislike it, because I feel it should be pronounced “reeding” and not “redding”. I tend to misread all the signs, and find it a very confusing place to be.

Reading is not a city, which surprised me. I thought that every place with a cathedral was a city, but this is not true. Apparently the monarch has to grant city status to a town, and our current monarch clearly thinks Reading should remain a town. I expect she also dislikes the name.

We had lunch in Browns, next to the river.

We walked towards the ancient abbey ruins. There was a huge statue – the Maiwand Lion – which commemorates the soldiers lost during a war in Afghanistan (not the most recent one). Russia were beginning to infiltrate Afghanistan, so we sent troops to stop them, and loads of them were killed. It sounds so very like recent wars. History tends to repeat, doesn’t it? Afghanistan seems to be one of those places which is continually being overrun by other countries, they have a sadly unsettled past; it must be very hard for the generations who live there.

Walked past the old gateway. They executed the abbot near here during Henry III times, and there is an old hotel, which I’m pretty sure must be haunted.

We found the ruins of the ancient abbey, and wandered around. Husband was keen to walk by the river, but we made him wait while we explored. Luckily some of the signs were aimed at children, including one with a wheel to turn that played an old song – so that kept him busy for a few minutes. The song was “Summer is i-comin’ in” which I remember singing (and disliking) at school. Apparently it contains the word “fart” but I don’t think we sang that version at my junior school.

We saw the remains of the chapter house – which was where all the business meetings of the abbey were held. Each meeting began with a reading of a chapter from the Bible, which is why it’s named that.

If I’m honest, the ruins only needed a few minutes to explore – unless you’re a historian and appreciate these things, or a primary school teacher and determined to use the whole day on a school outing…I have been that person.

We then followed Husband back to the river, looked at the boats, before driving back to Kent.

Hope you have a good week.
Take care,
Love, Anne x

Anne E. Thompson has written several novels and non-fiction books. You can find her work in bookshops and Amazon.
Why not sign up to follow her blog today?
anneethompson.com

Thanks for reading.

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

The paperback version is currently available for £9.99, but as I will need to buy copies for book fairs, I will need to cover my postage costs, so this price is for a very limited time (I think it will be around £12 in the future, but I wanted to let you, my blog readers, know that they can buy it for the cheaper price, until March). It is also available as a Kindle book.(You can read it for free if you have Kindle Unlimited.)

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

 

A Treat in January

Instow Holiday Diary January 2019
Saturday 5th January:
Walked along the Tarka Trail from Instow. This stretch is along a disused railway line, so I liked it because it was easy walking; Husband complained that we were walking along a tarmac path; Kia was just happy to be walking anywhere. The trail crossed bridges, wound near the coast, and went through cuttings of ferns and grasses. It was peaceful and pleasant, and although we had to be aware of the occasional bike that whizzed past, it was very pleasant.

At one point we passed a couple of big old boats, which appeared to be inhabited. I’m not sure what living on a boat would be like – very like camping I imagine. No idea what they do for water or sewage, as the river wouldn’t be any use for either. Instow is on the estuary, where the rivers Taw and Torridge meet the sea (well, they actually meet the sea at Appledore, which is the other side of the river, but you can see the waves on the horizon from Instow.

We turned around when we arrived in Bideford. We checked the ferry to Lundy Island, but it only runs March – October. I didn’t buy a fridge magnet, as they all looked a bit naff.

Walked back to Instow and had coffee at John’s Cafe, which is the best cafe in the whole world (except that it has rather uncomfortable seats, and is a little pricey). Kia lay under the table while we had coffee, and then waited outside while Husband bought some juice. They didn’t have any orange juice (too posh) and the apple juice was all proper, locally produced apple juice, which was rather bewildering for Husband, as he had to choose which variety of apply he wanted. He chose cox’s apple juice, which is pretty horrid unless you like cox apples (which I don’t).

When we got back to the cottage, I checked my clever iPhone app, to see how far we’d walked (it felt like a long way). It was 10.6km, so perhaps not so very far. We had ham sandwiches for lunch (which didn’t fit very well with my sort of vague decision to eat only vegetarian food in January), with apple juice (see above) and ginger biscuits I’d brought from home (left over from Christmas, but still nice).

At 3:30pm, we had afternoon tea at Watersmeet Hotel near Woolacombe. This was a Christmas gift from Husband, and as a great lover of cakes and sandwiches, I was rather looking forward to it. I had been given a voucher, showing a dining room, but we were taken to a lounge area for the tea. (It turns out Husband had made the voucher himself, and downloaded photos from the hotel’s website, but tea is not served in the dining area!) The hotel is on the cliff edge, looking down into a bay, and we sat and watched waves crashing over the rocks.

We spent a few minutes taking selfies, as you do—most with my thumb in one corner, and then the tea arrived. There was loads, enough for four people, so we could’ve shared one. It was all so pretty, with cakes on the top tier, a huge scone in the middle, and sandwiches at the bottom. Everything was delicious, and I wrapped up the scone to eat later, and then ate most of the rest. (Not the Battenberg cake though, as I’m not keen on that.) It was all very lovely.

I hope you have some treats this week.

Take care.
Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading.

anneethompson.com

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

The paperback version is currently available for £9.99, but as I will need to buy copies for book fairs, I will need to cover my postage costs, so this price is for a very limited time (I think it will be around £12 in the future, but I wanted to let you, my blog readers, know that they can buy it for the cheaper price, until March). It is also available as a Kindle book.

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

A Stolen Holiday

After a week with my sister in New York, I flew down to Florida.

The ‘boys’ met me at Miami airport. Actually, it was Husband (hasn’t been a ‘boy’ for many years) and my sons (who are also no longer ‘boys’) but they will always be boys to me. I was able to hug Son 1 before he disappeared through security for his flight home, then we went in search of food. I was starving. I bought a burger, which I ate in the open-top Mustang they’d hired while we drove across Florida. It is the best burger I have eaten. Possibly the best meal. As I said, I was starving.

Once death-by-starvation had been averted, I looked out of the window. We were driving along ‘Alligator Alley’ and I was keen to spot a gator. I saw swamp, and birds —lots of birds. There were long legged white birds, and dumpy buzzards, and a big brown fishing bird that sort of hung itself out to dry after diving. But I wanted to see an alligator. Son 2 kept pointing them out, but I kept missing them.

Then, suddenly, I saw one. It was huge, about the size of a double bed, and black, and evil looking—horrible. I no longer wanted to see an alligator, they were horrid; and I worried I might have nightmares. I stopped looking. (Note, I may have exaggerated the size very slightly.)

We drove to the west side of Florida, and onto Sanibel Island. We were staying in Sanibel Moorings, which is where we stayed twenty years ago. It’s still lovely. We’ve hired a condo for a few days. It is very pretty, with lots of beach art on the walls, and pastel-coloured furnishings. There is a kitchen (complete with massive American fridge), two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a lounge, and a balcony (enclosed by a fly-net) overlooking the beach. Everything is very clean and comfortable.

It was dark when we arrived, so we unpacked, and the ‘boys’ went out for dinner. I went to bed (you might remember, I had been awake since a very early number!)

Day 1: We went for an early walk along the beach. There are shells everywhere. There are also birds everywhere: little sandpipers that run along the water’s edge looking for food, huge pelicans that glide over the sea like fighter-pilots, tall white birds (egrets, I think) with their funny yellow feet. The sea is full of dolphins, but we didn’t see any today.
There are also lots of palm trees. There is something very exciting about palm trees.

We strolled towards the lighthouse. It doesn’t actually have a house, and is more of a ‘light-pylon’; but I guess it does the job.
We then went back to the car (because when you’ve hired an open-top Mustang and have stolen a holiday in November, you kind of want to cruise in the sunshine while you can). We drove to Captiva, the next island. There were lots of expensive houses, and mangrove swamps, and strips of beach. There was also Santa, climbing a palm tree, which feels wrong.

We went to Bailey’s Supermarket and bought bagels for lunch. There was lots of fresh fruit. There were also cartons of orange juice, from Spain. This feels very wrong (in the UK, all the orange juice is from Florida). The world is mad.

For dinner, we went to a fish restaurant. Sanibel has a lot of restaurants, and most of them are fish restaurants. We went to one which felt a bit weird when we entered, as it was big and sold tee-shirts; it felt more like a sports centre. But once we were settled into a booth, eating fresh hot prawns (which Americans call “shrimp”) and drinking cold beers, it felt just fine. Eating in America is always good.

I will tell you more about our ‘stolen holiday’ soon. It feels sort of naughty to be here in November!
Have a fun week and take care.
Love, Anne

Thank you for reading.
You can sign up to follow my blog at:
anneethompson.com

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

La Guardia

I hardly slept at all last night, so when the alarm on my phone rang, I was glad to abandon the ‘not sleeping’ of the night. I didn’t check the time, I simply grabbed the clothes I’d prepared the night before and disappeared into the bathroom, trying not to wake my sister. This was, perhaps, a mistake.

I got myself ready and repacked my suitcase, adding my pyjamas and wash-bag, then struggled with the zip. Eventually it closed. Then I checked my passport and ticket for the 2,000th time, and decided I may as well leave. I knew it was a little early, but it seemed daft to sit anxiously waiting in the bedroom (keeping Ruth awake) when I could just as easily sit anxiously waiting at the airport. And you never know, after all, if there’ll be delays on the way. So, I kissed her goodbye, trying to not think about how long it might be before we see each other again (because I didn’t want to cry) and I left.

The hotel doorman hailed me a cab and lifted my bag into the back. Was I meant to tip him? I hate the whole tipping culture, because I never know what’s right – I’d rather just pay a fee. I gave him $1, it had taken him all of ten seconds, and he looked surprised. I have no idea if that was because I’m not meant to tip him, or because the tip was too small.

The taxi driver told me there is no set fare to LaGuardia, only to JFK and Newark airport. I wasn’t sure whether this was true, so spent the rest of the journey anxiously watching the meter as it raced through dollars, hoping I had enough money.

Then, when the meter reached $9.50 (no idea where we were because I wasn’t looking out of the window) there was an awful noise, as if a wheel was going to fall off. The driver pulled over and went to check under the car. It turned out we had run over a cone (he had my sympathy, I did that once on a school run, but that’s a different story). I sat in the taxi, while he struggled to remove the cone from where it was jammed into the wheel arch. It took a few minutes.

Eventually we set off again (which was good, because I didn’t think I’d be able to hail another taxi from the place where we’d stopped, and I wasn’t sure what to do). The driver reset the meter at $0, which was nice of him.

Then, all very quickly, we arrived at La Guardia airport. I checked my phone. It was 7.30am. I have no idea how that happened – whatever time did I leave the hotel room? I had set my alarm, using the voice activated app, for 6.30. In one hour (apparently) I had showered, packed, said goodbye to Ruth, gone downstairs, got a taxi, stopped while a cone was removed, and driven to La Guardia. All in less than an hour?

I went to the check-in desk (I felt my inability to set an alarm excluded me from using the automatic check-in machines). I checked my bag into the hold, which cost me $25. The American Airlines website said this had to be paid in cash, but actually the opposite was true, and I had to pay by card. I was given a receipt, which was identical to my boarding card, so that might prove tricky. Then I went through the security.

Security is always stressful, with too many people, bright lights, cross voices – and too much distance between my luggage and myself while they check why I had set off their alarm. I also worry about being zapped by X-rays in their body scanners. But it was no worse than normal, and the security guy was very nice about the whole bottle of water I’d forgotten was in my bag.

I checked the boards, and my gate number was already showing, which was unexpected. I bought a coffee and cinnamon swirl (in a strange place where you help yourself to both and then pay at the end).

Now I am sitting at the gate, waiting. I have two hours until my flight. It has been a lovely week in NY with Ruth. Soon I will be in Miami, where Husband will meet me, and I’ll have a couple of days of sunshine before we fly home. Am so looking forward to seeing him again.

The gate is filling up, and they keep asking if anyone will trade their ticket and travel later, as they have over-booked the flight. I do hope my seat hasn’t been sold twice. Now they are stopping people as they board, and saying that all hand-luggage has to be checked into the hold. This is worrying, because I have my computer. Am signing off now, and will go and find out what’s happening.

Have a good day.

Love, Anne x

Thank you for reading.
You can follow my blog at:
anneethompson.com

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary