Lazy days in the sun

The remaining days followed a similar pattern to the first. The boys would get up en masse, the DVD player would go on, always slightly too loudly for me to be able to sleep through and Sharon would sleep on, having been disturbed by Angus falling out of the bed in the night, or Rowan thumping his way through the house in search of the toilet or Finn sleepwalking. Angus would typically refuse his cereal while the others mucked about and laughed and ate their toast and jam and fruit and pestered us to go to the pool. The advantage of not having a pool as part of the property is that we aren't worried about Rowan or Angus walking out the door and falling in: the downside is that one of the adults must be with the children to take them over to the top pool. The trips to the pool were generally late morning, up until lunchtime and then again late in the afternoon, before dinner.

The boys enjoyed jumping in with Edie and Sharon bought them more pool toys: noodles (long floats that allowed Rowan and Angus to ride them like horses into the deep end), water pistols (they didn't play with these much) and goggles and masks. Finn's flippers mysteriously disappeared on day one, to our annoyance. Edie and Oscar shared their inflatable crocodile and rubber ring too, so their was plenty to occupy the boys in the pool as well as sunbeds on which they could rest and dry off in the sun. Sharon and I read and joined the boys in the pool and took it in turns to prepare lunch and dinner, passing the time and not worrying about being a slave to the clock. Things have turned a corner with Angus now being old enough that we don't need to worry about naps, nappies and strict routine, although he is still in night-time pull-ups and has chosen to go "for a wee lie-down" most days after his morning stint in the pool. The heat and the late nights have disrupted all the boys to some extent, so it's important to relax when we can.

On Tuesaday afternoon we had a fruitless search for Carol and Mark Johnston's holiday villa in the neighbouring Urbanizacion Voltacado, trawling past numerous sprawling, gated houses in the baking heat. Giving up, we returned to Mijas Pueblo for a wander around and a stop for ice-cream, eventually, after a fruitless search amidst the stairs and terraces of the Alcazabar area. We visited the playpark with possibly the best view of any we've been to, up by the oval bull-ring. Sharon decided to re-attempt to locate Carol's villa with Angus and got lucky. Seeing a curtain twitch she buzzed a gate and found them. Angus spent the rest of the afternoon throwing dive sticks for Cameron and Tom (Gary and Nicola, friends of the Johnstons, were sharing the villa) and having a great time.

For Wednesday lunch we drove down to Cala de Mijas, some 30 minutes' drive from the house down to the A-7 and along towards Marbella. The heat by the beach was only slightly attenuated by the onshore breeze blowing through the beach umbrellas and sunbeds. There was far more people about than we had been used to up in the mountains and my feeling, which the others agreed with, was that we preferred the quieter environs of our villa (quieter that is, when Rowan isn't clamouring endlessly in excited squeals by the pool) to the business of the beach.

That said, the boys had a fine lunch of pizza and pasta bolognese and burgers; all very tasty, according to the recipients. My salade grande was less so. By and large, the food we bought and prepared ourselves was far tastier, in my opinion, than the food in the resturants. Maybe our choice of establishment was the cause or maybe the economic woes of Spain have dictated that cheap food now tastes like cheap food whereas once you could be assured of tasty fare at reasonable prices. Now, if you want decent food you have to pay for it.

Rowan and Angus had a play on the ship climbing frame, we had another of many ice-lollies (hours have been spent selecting ice-creams and poring over lolly boards) then Rowan and I visited a supermarket while the rest headed home. In the evening Sharon escaped into Mijas for a stroll about without children and to sit down for a much-needed coffee. She reported the town had a great vibe in the evening, with people sitting out, enjoying their food and chatting as the evening wore on. We had a fine dinner on the balcony ourselves, seared tuna, octopus with chorizo and egg, ratatouille and potatoes, washed down with wine and the quiet sussurations of the trees around us.

Camping contrasts

As term ends there are many activities for the boys to take part in. Sean was looking forward to the Group Camp across in Fife, at Fordell Firs, for some time. Finn, on the other hand, had taken some persuading to sign up and was still apprehensive as I drove him across the bridge on the Saturday afternoon. It wasn't helped by the fact that he was a bit late, as a result of us having mixed up the times. Consequently, the beaver troop was already assembled and tent spaces had been allocated so Finn didn't get the place he wanted. I could tell he wasn't happy. He joined in the activities readily enough and I left him to it.

I passed a few words with Sean, who had arrived on the Friday evening and was tired, dirty and loving it! He was on his way to do some caving and had been having a great time with his pals. He hadn't got to sleep until some ungodly hour of the morning but didn't seem to care.

Predictably, once I was back in Edinburgh and had fed the wee two their dinner, I got a call to say Finn wasn't settling and was quite adamant he wanted to come home. So, back in the car and across the bridge to pick up Finn who wasn't upset at all, just quite clear he didn't want to spend the night in a sleeping bag in the corner of a tent inside a bigger marquee in a muddy field. I can't say I blamed him. At his age, I doubt I would have fancied it either and Finn is generally a bit of a homebird who likes to have his family and familiar comforts around him. Sharon was out for Anne Marie's birthday, at Castle Terrace restaurant, our new favourite haunt it seems, so I had to collect Finn with Angus and Rowan in their jammies, the former falling asleep and fortunately transferring to bed on our return.

>

On the Sunday it was back across once more, this time to pick up Sean. He was sick the night before (apparently the "spaghetti with mince" was as appetising as it sounds) but was still running around and participating in the Highland Games that were on. Eventually we gather together his muddy gear and returned home. Not surprisingly, he was a little bit tired!

A damp day at Crichton Castle

As the cold, wet summer progressed, we decided to get wrapped up and head out on a castle trip with Adrian, who is still staying through in Glasgow with Brian, doing the odd job to keep himself ticking over while seeking other opportunities. Unfortunately the economic climate has been as gloomy as the meteorological one and there aren't many openings for qualified furniture craftsmen at the moment.

Anyway, we headed over to Crichton for a castle runaraound, exploring and playing hide and seek. Here is a video of the trip.

As my writing of blog entries has become increasingly sporadic, I may choose to put up more of these "video blog" entries instead. We shall see. Perhaps I should just write less detail!

Sharjah and home

Pete and Tracy are renting one of the many massive mansions that line the streets of the UAE. With four-metre high ceilings and plenty of floor space, it seemed big enough to fit our house into a couple of rooms. There is very little garden since, as Pete pointed out, looking after one is too much work in this climate. They have a small pool at the front and Jamie, Helen and Michelle have been making the most of it, their swimming improving on a daily basis. We ate out by the pool in the evening we arrived, the heat still warping the air.

On the Tuesday, I didn't venture out the house! I got into reading magazines and cookbooks and just enjoying having the time to do so, without worrying about shopping, cooking, cleaning or looking after the boys. That said, Helen adopted me as soon as she came home. We had to "draw wishes" in a Dora the Explorer annual. Unlike Rowan, her peer, Helen was very into writing and telling coherent stories (Rowan's tales usually descend into superheroes and baddies and abstract flights of fancy pretty quickly). Jamie is also an avid reader, unlike his peer Finn, who given the choice of sitting sucking his thumb or reading a book would take the digit option most times. Sometimes Sharon and I wonder if we are encouraging or pushing our boys hard enough academically. But they have to be want to do it.

We had a fantastic Sri Lankan curry in the evening cooked by Pete and Tracy's part-time housemaid earlier in the day and a relaxing drink in the lounge. Pete is working while we're over, unfortunately, so the evenings are his only chance to see us. Wednesday followed a similar vein to Tuesday, with Sharon continuing to pile through the Hunger Games trilogy while I began Stephen King's Dark Tower series.

Once the children were home we headed into downtown Sharjah where the university and administrative buildings were magnificent in their architecture, more classical and less glass and steel then in Dubai. Sharjah has its share of towering office blocks and apartments too. It's hard to believe that there are enough businesses and workers to fill all the office space. We stopped at the Blue Souq for a wander round the shops which were notably more local than the familiar names that populated the Mall of the Emirates in Dubai. Sharon eventually bought a camel soft toy for Finn. We earlier bought a pad for Sean and a toy "boom-box" for Angus that plays a selection of Arabic ditties. Rowan got some Ben 10 twistable pencils and Jumeirah wristbands (Rowan likes a wristband).

Next we drove closer to the coastal parts of the city, where docks and ports and tower-block lined drives swept round artifical bays. We stopped at the Al Qasba canal area to meet Pete while the kids played in the playpark, curiously juxtaposed with the concrete monoliths of surrounding multi-storeys. Dinner was a huge mezze of Middle Eastern dishes in a nearby restaurant - very tasty and extremely filling! We drove back to do some packing as we had a relatively early start on the Thursday morning. We bade our farewells and headed by taxi to Dubai airport. Despite the many lanes, progress to the airport was slow, speeding up slightly once we crossed into Dubai with its even more lanes.

Our flight was delayed inordinately on the runway, sitting for an hour and a quarter before we finally took off. Whilst not quite as comfortable as the A380, the 777 was still a pleasant ride as we made our way back up the Arabian Gulf, over Iraq and Turkey and across Europe to Britain. Such was the delay at Dubai our transfer from Terminal 3 to 1 was fraught and close to the cut-off time. Not surprisingly, one of the cases didn't make the transfer in time so were a case light when Michael picked us up at Edinburgh.

Edinburgh had been enjoying indifferent weather in our absence but the sun came out for our homecoming. The boys were delighted to see us, and us them. I was away from them for 11 days, which is the longest separation since Sean was born. Angus was running about the garden, soaked from the hose, as we dined on the patio. It was good to be home.

Long hot Saturday

I was up early on the Saturday morning for a golf date withe Pete. So early, in fact, that I was first in the restaurant for breakfast at 0630. Having enjoyed that, fortification for the day ahead, I got a taxi out to the Els Club in Dubai Sports City for 7.30 to meet Pete and knock some balls on the range. It was unpleasantly warm even then as I adjusted to the hire clubs. Fortuntely we had buggies, otherwise I would have been done for by the first tee. Joining us to make up a four, it turned out, was David Provan and Paul Darling, fellow PC guests from Sharon's team.

The course was long and set up for a competition that was off straight after us. Pins behind bunkers on 200 yard par threes with lightning greens weren't going to do us any favours. I struggled all day, managing only one par and pretty much giving up the ghost as the mercury passed the 40 degree mark. The fairways were cut through a half-occupied estate of identikit cube-shaped villas, and bounded by sandy wasteland. Enter there at your peril. The temperature rose even higher if you dared seek a wayward drive amidst the scrub. By the end I was capable of raising the club and letting it fall on the ball, not to much effect. The others fared better by degrees but the Bermuda grass and hogs back greens and 6800 yards and desert heat were too much for me!

I bade Pete farewell and taxied back to the Madinat with David and Paul. Sharon had a bot of a late night and then a morning working out in the, fortuntely, air-conditioned gym. We ended up having a lazy afternoon, me more so than Sharon who headed out while I caught up with some much-needed zeds.

After 4pm we reconvened in reception, by the pool of petals, beneath the domed ceiling with its map of the UAE painted on it, before transferring to our Toyota Landcruisers for the drive into the desert. On the way we passed a lorry, recently tipped over on the road - not the most heartening sight before taking to the dunes in a high-powered car!

We paused briefly to let the air out the tyres, so that the cars would have more traction through the soft sand, then we reloaded the cars and were off, the anthill mob following one another over the dunes. Our driver was good fun and up for a bit of egging on, more so than some of the others who were going through the motions. It wasn't particularly life-threatening but we had a few slides and jolts and near misses with the lethargic driver in front as we would our way deeper into the dunes. Eventually we stopped in the desert for some refreshments as the sun dipped sharply towards the horizon. Sharon and I, and Hannah and Gavin and Alain and Graham, clambered on to the backs of some camels to lead the party up and over a dune in the dusk, to enter the caravanserai which was the scene for the evening's entertainment. The camel ride was more alarming than the dune bashing and I think I ended up with mild whiplash as the camel plunged to its knees, Sharon yelling in front of me.

We were seated at long tables in the open air, beneath the desert sky. Many of the ladies availed themselves of the henna tattoos that were on offer, in between partaking of the barbecued meats, curries and various Middle Eastern dishes that were being served up. In the midst of it all we were treated to some belly dancing. Fortunately, this didn't turn into audience participation - we were content to watch the two dancers do their thing. One was considerably better than the other. After the festivities we slowly cleared the camp and returned to the jeeps. Again, some drivers were more up for it than others: slaloming through the sand (because, our driver claimed, he was driving on full tyres and needed to keep swerving to avoid being stuck) and driving for prolonged periods with their lights off - a rather scary prospect in the black night of the desert.

Once back at the hotel, a few went in search of TV coverage of the Champions League Final while we went to Anne Marie's room. I had to content myself with watching the penalty shoot out by crowd reaction. The best CNN could do was film people's reactions as they watched the denoument in bars in Germany and Kenya. As it happened, Chelsea won. It was a long and tiring day in the sun for me.

Dubai days one and two

Many's the time I've castigated the England cricket team (and other sporting emissaries from the UK on fruitless trips abroad) for their poor performance in locations such as Sri Lanka and India and Australia, unaware of just quite how debilitating it is to walk, let alone attempt to play sport at a high level, in 40-degree heat with a touch of humidity thrown in.

Well now I know. It has been incredibly hot here in the UAE, to the extent that doing nothing, or at the very least doing something in the safer and cooler confines of an air-conditioned interior, is the preferred option. We arrived after an extremely comfortably overnight Emirates flight from Heathrow (but with a minimum of sleep) and were processed through the first of many brand, spanking new buildings at Dubai Airport. The first taste of heat, at 0730, was as we left the terminal and moved to the coach for the transfer to the Madinat Mina A'Salam Hotel, part of the Jumeirah resort, looking out to the distinctive sail-like structure of the Burj Al Arab Hotel, the definitive landmark of Dubai tourism.

The drive from the airport along the Sheikh Zayed Road took us past the fabulous towers lining that 12-lane highway: tall, narrow structures fronted with tinted glass and subtle variations in angles and skeletal infrastructure but all dwarfing the street-level life that scurried around their roots. The unbelievable dimension of the world's tallest man made structure, the Burj Khalifa, rose behind them like some science-fiction space-port, growing ever narrower and climaxing in a needle-like mast that pierced the clouds some 828 metres above sea level.

More mundanely, we breakfasted by the channel that circumnavigates the Madinat hotels, realising how hot the day was becoming. Our rooms weren't ready till the afternoon, so we killed the time on the beach, sweltering under shades and trying to sleep without waking up roasted. "Ye's'll be like rashers," our Cork air-stewardess had pronounced succintly on the flight over. I dozed and sweated and got grumpy. Sharon just dozed and sweated. Some swam in the sea, which was a bit like swimming in warm soup on subsequent days but quite refreshing on this first day, exhilirating in the pounding surf. I didn't swim. I didn't want to even move. I got burnt in the few minutes heading to the toilet from the shade and the sand was liable to singe the flesh on your feet.

Eventually we got our room keys and moved tot he sanctuary of air-conditioned five-star hotel life. It was some 20 degrees cooler in the rooms. Opening the doors to the balcony was like opening an oven door, a thick stew of Arabian air challenging the cold air of the room. However, we didn't stay there for long (and besides, the hotel had misplaced our luggage) so we took a taxi with Anne-Marie to the Mall of the Emirates, the smaller of Dubai's vast shopping malls, to the Carrefour supermarket. Sharon was conscious of being underdressed (due to our luggage misplacement) having moved from private beach to public retail outlet and received a few disapproving looks from the white-clad Emiratis. As ever, the supermarket had a splendid selection of fruit and veg but elsewhere the mall displayed some very familiar names: from Next to Debenhams! Once loaded up with snacks and mixers, we queued for a taxi back to the hotel.

Our luggage finally appeared. After a brief rest, we dressed for the reception dinner. Despite the sun having gone down around 7pm, the air was no cooler. We crossed the road in front of the hotel entrance to the Fort area which was reminiscent of a Legoland Arabian-themed area set in a very warm climate. It's no use pining for authentic, quaint, original buildings in Dubai - the oldest structure in the city is reputedly 32 years old. The roll call of achievers was run through, with Hannah the top points earner and Tracy, another of Sharon's downline and a first time trip achiever, second. There was the usual exhortations to bigger and better things next year and then we attacked the buffet. Fortunately I was on water (and have been for some time, owing to the prevalance of gout attacks) as to drink alcohol in such temperatures would be to invite illness, in my view. Sharon didn't quite see it that way. In Dubai you cannot buy alcohol outside of hotels. There are no off-licences nor non-hotel bars as such, hence everyone had arrived with a healthy quota of duty-free purchases as the only places to drink were in hotel bars and restaurants or in private.

We had a great sleep in our vast bed. The air-conditioning was reasonably quiet and the temperature control was spot on. We met others down in the Mina A'Salam for breakfast then got on an abra, a small wooden boat holding about 8 passengers, for a tour of the resort. There are wonderful villas and gardens in our section of the Jumeirah resort, as well as two Hotels, the Mina A'Salam and the Al Qasr, a souk (market) and anywhere between 29 and 42 restaurants, according to the literature.

We alighted at the Madinat souk and once more escaped indoors. The high, vaulted ceilings of the interior meant the winding marketplace was pleasantly cool but I was still feeling rather worn out so I retired to the hotel room after a brief browse around the shops. Sharon went on and had a salad lunch. I dozed. Our next appointment was the "Old" Dubai tour, leaving the hotel at 3.15pm. We crossed the Dubai Creek to the older part of town, to the Gold Souk. Here we entered the darkened, L-shaped market where upwards of fifty jewellers and goldsmiths sell some of the 20% or so of the world's gold that is traded through Dubai. Many hawkers, vast choice of jewellry, no women to be seen; only men. To be honest, there is so much stuff it would be impossible to browse, even if you had the time, which we did not, being marched through at a fair lick. You really would have to know what you were looking for. The Gold Souk sells 18, 21 and 22-carat gold, the last being unusual and generally not to Western tastes, as it looks more yellow and "fake" than the paler, lower carat gold preferred by Europeans.

We moved on to the Spice Souk next which was more to our liking. Again, a couple of dark alleys full of shops with sacks of spices and dried fruits and herbs, a wonderful aroma filling the narrow lane. There were wonderful dried, black lemons which, when puncutured, released a deep citrus scent. We didn't get far before Sharon was in and conversing with a salesman who fairly shovelled the curry powder and vanilla pods into bags. A little obligatory bartering, which Sharon loves and which I, of course, can't stand, and then we were on our way. Another short walk in the afternoon heat and then we were on an abra across the creek. The short journey to the other bank and slightly down-creek was reminiscent of what I'd imagine Venice (the destination for next year's trip) to be like. From there we made our way past shuttered shops, Friday being the holy day and many places closing up, up to the Dubai Museum. At first sight this was a paltry offering, but moving down from the sun-bleached open-air entrance arena to the darker, cooler interior shifted the level of interest, although parts were too dark to actually see in. It was a bit like Ailwee Cave in County Clare! The last port of call was a restaurant called "local restaurant" or something similar, that sold camel burgers. None of that for us, but a refreshing drink and chance to lounge about in cool rooms on rugs and have a chat. Eventually some ice-cream which may or may not have been made from camel's milk did arrive. It was a very relaxing hour or so.

From there it was back to the hotel and a quick turnaround to get in taxis and head back towards Downtown Dubai, to a restaurant called Fazaris at a hotel called The Address. Unfortunately our taxi driver wasn't quite sure where he was headed and a massive traffic jam caused by the breaking at the end-of-the-holy-day delayed us from getting to the restuarant in time for the booking. This wasn't a problem however, and we made our way through the very stylish hotel to meet up with the others, including Pete and Tracy who had booked the meal.

It was good to see the pair of them, ex-pats now based in Sharjah, looking in fine fettle. The food was good and the added bonus was a middle distance view of the fountain show at the foot of the all-conquering Burj Khalifa, towering above us into the hazy night sky, the ultimate statement of manmade Dubai City. Sharon enjoyed sashimi and a Goan prawn curry, while I had tomato soup and lamb rogan josh. Afterwards we returned to the Mina A'Salam, me to bed and Sharon to someone's room for a late snifter. A busy couple of days!

Taggy found

After 36 hours missing, Taggy, Angus's comforter, has been found. I spent the best part of an hour looking for Taggy yesterday evening, Sharon had another go today and the boys were also pressed into the Great Taggy Hunt. Eventually I lifted Sean's mattress and there was Taggy stuffed down the end next to the headboard. No doubt a result of Angus climbing into Sean's bed first thing in the morning. To his credit he wasn't entirely bereft at Taggy's absence, but it does calm him down if he wakens in the night.

Angus was very tired this evening, having had no sleep at nursery today. He fell asleep sitting with me on the couch as we all watched "How It's Made", a Discovery Channel favourite of Finn's. So I dispensed with the usual bedtime routine and put hinm straight to bed. The boys had a good day yesterday. First they planted bulbs in the garden with Linda then I met them at Wester Hailes for a lunchtime swimming outing. Sean had a great time on the diving boards and Finn to his credit finally managed to jump in off the higher of the two boards. He was rightly pleased with himself. Rowan floated about on a boat most of the time and Angus enjoyed the slide. After I went back to work Sharon took them shoe shopping and then out to Leadburn soft play. Today, Rowan's friend Toby and his brother Bradley came over so the boys are having a good February break.

Rowan Rowan Redbreist

Rowan was picked as one of the three representatives of his class to recite the J.K.Annand poen "Robin Robin Redbreist" but didn't quite make the final cut. That didn't matter to us though because it was great to see him confidently deliver the short poem in the Scots tongue, despite him still being a little unclear in his enunciation of "r". He was taking every opportunity to recite it in front of any gathering in the house, bringing a tear to the eye of several Pampered Chef ladies! It was good to see him concentrate on something. He does have good memory, that is evident in the speed with which he is taking to reading, but his inability to stay still and give you attention and appear to have understood what you are saying and act upon it, is a cause for concern, especially if he continues to behave that way in class.

All the Wallace boys were in the MacPherson clan at school, which was part of the Growing Confident Kids programme at Pentland. There were four clans, with members from each class. They had Highland Games type events, were learning songs and dances and all things Scottish. There was a showcase event with lots of things on all over the school. Sharon went along to see it. Finn continues to get a lot more homework than Sean, which Finn finds frustrating. He doesn't enjoy the word side of things, spelling and making up sentences. Usually this ends in tantrums and tears. He enjoys his maths and his reading is great (as is his joined-up writing) but he just cannot seem to settle into writing a few creative (or even basic) sentences without a long rigmarole. He finished "The Enchanted Wood" this week which is by far his longest book to date, so he was quite rightly proud of that achievement. Sean continues to cycle though the Harry Potter tales despite my efforts to get him to branch out. He's read some of them four times now.

Driving Miss Proudfoot

Sharon's new name ought to be Sharon Proudfoot. She's very pleased with the results of the operation now that the bandages have come off. Day by day she's finding it a bit easier to manage about and the crutches have now taken up permanent residence behind the living room door (when Angus and Rowan aren't running through the house using them as guns).

Sharon is not quite back to driving yet, so I was the nominated driver on Monday night as she did her first show since the operation, out in East Linton. I dropped her off and then went for a swim in Haddington, managing a credible 40 lengths. Slow but sure, I was determined to get past Sean's recent 32 lengths (800m) record. He's since been allowed to stop going to swimming lessons.

It was a cold clear night and I drove up round Traprain Law before parking to get a good look at the dark night skies above East Lothian while listening to the end of the Harry Potter audiobook "The Half-Blood Prince" which has been playing in the car since well before Christmas. There was a great view of Orion and the Plaeides overhead and it was good to have some "me time." I followed it up by a glass of cider and a read of my book by the roaring fire in the East Linton Hotel until Sharon was ready to be collected. An unusual but very enjoyable Monday evening.

I reprised my taxi role last night, this time heading through to East Kilbride. I was shown to the front room while Sharon did the job in the kitchen-dining area. It was a bitter night with frozen snow rutting the roads of EK and the M8 sparkling icily on the drive home.

The boys tucked into haggies, neeps and tatties on Tuesday night, in honour of Robert Burns. Finn and Rowan helped prepare the veg. I never have got round to finding somewhere that does gluten-free haggis. Maybe next year!

Highway to hell

There are many reasons not to go to large outdoor gigs. AC/DC at Punchestown ticked most of the boxes. I have to say the band themselves were pretty tight and put on a typically straightforward AC/DC show. No chat between songs, two hours of most of the staples they've been playing live for decades now and five songs off the new album. Here's a crowd video of Highway to Hell. But it felt like budget AC/DC, despite the 76 euro ticket. The cannons were en route to Hampden Park, I presume, and the stage seemed small. Maybe this was a consequence of being so far away, at least 200m. There was a visible delay between the guitar, voice and drums on the video and the sound reaching us. Being so far away was a consequence of Punchestown, which was, quite simply, a dreadful venue.

The ground curves imperceptibly downwards from the stage before curving up again after about 200m so if you want to see the real live performance you either have to be up in the first tens of metres taking your life in your hands or so far away that you would need hawk-like vision to pick out the figures on stage. As Father Ted tries to explain to Father Dougal: "This guitarist is one inch high. Those guitarists are far away." As a result of being so far away there was little atmosphere, not aided by heavy rain showers and a capricious breeze which took the sound with it so that the laser-sharp Gibson SG sound and sonic blast you would expect to be pulverised with at an AC/DC gig only occasionally cut through the elements.

The midsummer timing didn't help either. Only the last few, post-11pm songs were played in something approaching darkness, despite the gloomy weather, which means the whole rock-as-religious-experience thing is lost, unless you're very drunk and swaying in the midst of a mad-for-it crowd, which I don't really fancy these days. Finally, the traffic and transport arrangements were at best shambolic and at worst could have resulted in serious disturbance, given the number of punters severely under the influence, staggering off coaches at the M50 to walk the remainder of the way or charging the barriers as we waited for the coaches home. Oliv and I were on the bus two and half hours before we quit and walked for another hour and a quarter to get to the venue itself. Afterwards, we queued for an hour in quite a crush before the crowd's patience ran out and the barriers were upended. It was every man and woman for themselves at that stage and fifteen minutes later we got on a bus just entering the car park and thankfully grabbed seats upstairs. It was 0045 by that time and it took about ninety minutes to get back to Dublin. The only bright spot was flagging a taxi immediately on alighting from the coach.

All in all, it's hard to set aside all the chaos of getting there and home and enduring the queues for food and standing about in the rain and say the performance made it all worthwhile. I'd liked to have been closer but didn't fancy the mayhem. The video feed wasn't great, one shot replicated on three or four screens which were all up by the stage.

Brian Johnston and Angus Young sounded and looked in good nick and I felt a tad emotional for times long past when Angus was up on the amps slicing out his Let There Be Rock solo. It's 27 years since I first saw them and that was part of the problem yesterday. AC/DC will always be "my band", the one that saw me through my formative years and beyond. I know every track, every drum-beat, every note of every solo. But last night was not a private experience. There were lots of people there for the day out, to hear a couple of songs, to say they'd seen AC/DC. The thousands who left after Whole Lotta Rosie confirmed that suspicion. I can't argue that they don't have a right to do that but it's almost why I enjoy a tribute band like Livewire more. A crowd of fans in a small venue, there to hear AC/DC's music played live, the way it should be heard, the way it started out 35 years ago as they slogged their way round the clubs of Australia.

Angus arrives home

After three nights keeping his Mammy company in the hospital, Angus decided it was time he came home to meet the rest of the family and to see if the promises of a palatial crib with a view of the Pentland Hills and an unlimited milk bar were true. He's been as cranky as you'd expect a days-old baby to be, especially a big bouncer like Angus who's worried about where his next square feed is coming from. And, like his brothers were before him, he's no fan of getting his nappy changed. He likes warmth and a good cuddle and, with the aid of a formula top-up the last couple of nights, he's slept reasonably well in patches. Tonight will be the test though, as he moves in with his Mammy and Daddy.

I took Sean out to see Angus and Sharon yesterday and Finn got the prime job of being the big brother to escort home the newest Wallace boy, sitting beside a sleeping Angus on the drive home. Rowan's role was chief welcomer, which he did very well, as can be seen in the video. Sean was at school when Angus arrived home but was delighted when his Mammy came to pick him up as that meant she was home. All the boys have been missing their Mammy, who seems to be doing well following a rather traumatic birth. The SPD has eased off and hopefully the crutches can be returned soon. I'd postpone her can-can comeback for a few months yet.

Finn the Fish earned his final Beginner stickers today at swimming and now gets to wear a yellow hat, as he is now officially a Learner. Well done to the Wallace powerhouse of the pool!

Angus Ian Wallace

We have our fourth boy, Angus Ian Wallace, delivered in a hurry at St. John's Hospital in Livingston last night at 2140, some fifteen minutes after we arrived at the car park. For a few minutes it was touch and go as to whether he would be christened the Car Park Kid as Sharon looked like she wasn't going to make it from the car to the ward but a chair arrived and she was wheeled in, kneeling like Boadacea on a chariot. Things happened rather quickly and a large baby put in an appearance shortly afterwards.

We were debating his name at first but Angus was what we had decided beforehand and now that the shock of his quick arrival has worn off, Angus Ian Wallace is what we're sticking with. His name may have been debated but his size is not in question: 5040g or a whopping 11lbs 2.5 oz! His hair is dark, with perhaps an auburn tinge Sharon thought, as she went up to the post-natal ward just as dawn was breaking. He was quite a placid wee lad for the first couple of hours but he has been coughing a bit trying to bring up mucus since then. He doesn't really look like any of his brothers and has maybe missed out on the dimples but he seems to like sucking his fingers!

Here are some early photos of Angus. His brothers and Nana are very excited and can't wait to see him.

An Easter message

This is the reading that Sean did at the P2's Easter assembly. He only had to read it off a card but he had practised it so often he had memorised it.

Frightening the children

Sharon may be incapacitated at the moment but it didn't stop her lying on the couch bellowing like a bull at the TV on Saturday as Ireland achieved only their second ever rugby Grand Slam. Finn was startled and most put out as Sharon yelled in his ear when Ronan O'Gara's drop goal clinched a last minute victory over Wales.

Rowan was similarly startled on Sunday when, ambling along Warrender Park Road looking everywhere but in front of him, he suddenly came face to face with a big black labrador. Credit to Rowan, he didn't suddenly scream or burst into tears but the double-double-take and look of sheer suprise that contorted his features was most amusing. Sean and I had a good laugh. "I got a fright from the dog," laughed Rowan afterwards as he destroyed the back seat of my car eating a sausage roll and chocolate croissant. Note: Rowan and flaky pastry in a confined space is a lethal combination, even with leather seats.

Sean usually goes grumpy when he gets a fright or, as was the case the other morning, screeches the house down. The cause on Monday morning was him getting his nails cut, an event that sounded so traumatic to the rest of us breakfasting in the kitchen I think Sharon must have tied him to a chair and thrown Pampered Chef knives at his extremeties from across the room.

The pleasant weather lasted into the weekend and enabled me to take the boys to Gifford in search of somewhere different to walk, picnic and play. Barring the Gore Glen outing at New Year this was the first official picnic of the year. We enjoyed our soup, sandwiches and snacks in the sun in Gifford then had a good stone-throwing session on a pebbly bank next to the Gifford Water and a play in the park. The day out was extended with a walk at Aberlady nature reserve, the highlight of which was the sighting of a number of toads along the way.

Getting the boys out and about is usually good fun and preferable to tackling any of the household chores. I had to empty and restore the big hall cupboard over Sunday and Monday as we were getting the gas meter replaced with an external meter at the side of the house. A new course for the gas supply was dug and laid across the front lawn (the shock of which prompted tears from Sean and a massive tantrum from Finn that anyone should dig up our grass in this way) but they seem to have made a neat enough job of it, provided they repair the hole in the path. Sharon got them to dig out the base of the stone bird bath that has long been an irritant in the centre of the front lawn.

A cold snap

As the south of England is literally frozen in the grip of its worst snowfall for 18 years, we've not had it so bad. The snow came yesterday and went overnight although some more is forecast. It wasn't even the worst snowfall this winter. The drive home was arduous last night though. Traffic was tailed back from Comiston all the way to Forrest Rd (that is a very long way if you're sitting on a 23 bus) for no discernible reason other than it was a bit slippy. I had to manoeuvre through the rat-runs of Bruntsfield and Morningside to escape the worst of it but it still took almost an hour to drive home. Mind you, last week I walked to work from Buckstone shops. Sharon dropped me off there and, as a bus wasn't due for 12 minutes, I began walking. I was at Luca's at Holy Corner before a bus from any route passed me. So I kept going, to Standard Life House, since I had a meeting there and was able to get the company shuttle bus back down to Dundas House where my car was parked.

Sharon was down in Manchester at the weekend to meet up with Ruth and Susan so I was in charge of the three lads. We had a relatively quiet time, with Lesley and Stuart round on Saturday afternoon and a trip out to the partially closed museum on Sunday. The boys enjoyed their play in the science exhibition and especially enjoyed the cakes and hot chocolate across the road afterwards.

Finn wasn't at his best today, managing to break the frame of Sean's glasses with "a punch". Ross was here today after school, so, despite Finn having had Zoe here for lunch, it smacks of him being jealous for Sean's attention. Sean has enjoyed watching cricket with me the last couple of evenings. Whether this interest will last, we shall see, as he has little enthusiasm for sport. It's not a help that his brothers are younger than him (Rowan has a good kick on him though and was doing well hitting the football with a plastic golf club) so any time Sean and I kick a ball up and down the hall there is usually unwelcome interference from Finn or Rowan wanting to sit on the ball.

Sean is Six

Party season is in full swing. Sean and Finn were dressed up as a vampire and a skeleton respectively for Phoebe's Halloween party while Rowan toddled home from nursery with his face painted as a devil. The black goatee beard and dark eyebrows suited him. Finn looked especially good with his white face and dark eyes. They had a great time playing games and eating cake and getting to stay up late but we never got round to carving the pumpkin Sharon had bought.

Sean then had a party at Time Twister on the Saturday and Finn was at Zoe's party at Clambers on the Sunday morning. Marie and Michael had arrived by then to avoid us dragging the children everywhere for drop-offs and pick-ups. Sean's tiredness came to a head on his birthday morning when he threw a massive tantrum and accused us all of "ruining his birthday" because Finn wouldn't let him see a CD case. Fortunately he found a better mood in time for his party in the afternoon.

About 16 children attended Fairmilehead Church (some in fancy dress, as Sean had told some, but not all, that it was a dressing-up party) for his party which involved a lot of running about and a few games such as Dead Ant, a back-to-back balloon race and Musical Numbers, an elimination game featuring the hopscotch numbers strategically placed about the room. Sharon laid on the food which was eaten with gusto and the climax was a lights-out rendition of "Happy Birthday" as Sharon brought out Sean's volcanic birthday cake. He blew his six candles out in one go. Afterwards, Sharon held a talent competition then there was some balloon-popping and football before the parents arrived to collect their charges. It's a hard job. How many more such parties do we have to undertake?

Sean was pleased with his marble run and got lots of presents from his friends, with arts and crafts stuff featuring prominently. I played him at Downfall in the evening. We have a clever six-year old boy, well-mannered and obstinate in equal measures, a great big brother to Finn and Rowan, increasingly keen on reading, music and puzzles; when it seems like no time since he was placed in my arms, struggling to open his eyes to the world. Happy birthday Sean.

Honey Honey

Shh! Don't tell anyone, especially not Sean, but Sharon has booked a weekend to go over and see Olivia in Dublin and she's taking Finn with her. Finn is excited at the prospect but whether he'll be able to keep it a secret remains to be seen. He has a fascination with hair clips at the moment and has taken to wearing one or two as the fancy takes him, occasionally stumbling up to do his midnight wee (we have resorted to lifting him before we go to bed) with a clip still in his hair.

Rowan has moved up to the 2-3 room at Fairmile Nursery, a bit earlier than he should but he's more than ready for it, chatting away and furiously (sometimes very furiously, if you won't help him) putting jigsaws together. He was leading the morning Abba singalong at the breakfast table today with "Honey, Honey" and is able to string three or fours words together sensibly to convey what he wants. If not, he'll just shout and bawl till he gets his way. He grazed his chin while I was down in London.

Sean was sent home from school on Tuesday after being sick in the playground following lunch. Chances are he ate his lunch too quickly as he often comes home with half his packed lunch still remaining. I don't think he can eat as quickly as his peers and is in a hurry to get out and play. He has been fine since then although has complained once or twice about a sore stomach when eating. As ever, I wonder about the likelihood of him having coeliac disease, despite last year's all clear. He's definitely the most "Wallace" of the three boys and so has the best chance of developing it, in my opinion. He joined his brothers in the sting club last Sunday as a wasp got him in the finger at Loanhead playpark. Being Sean, amputation could not have caused him more grief. Rowan was stung on the nose at nursery a few weeks ago and Finn at Dumfries on our way to Ireland. Sean did manage to climb to the top of the spider's web at Loanhead though - he's been aiming to do that for some time now and was pleased with himself once he finally got there!

Getting dirty in Dalkeith

We had a fine time this afternoon down at Dalkeith Country Park. Team Wallace (that's Sharon's extended Pampered Chef team as opposed to a new name for our family in the wake of Team GB's success at the Olympics) met up for a picnic and for the collected children to have a good romp around the adventure playground. The sun even came out for once.

Rowan went down the big slide but Sean and Finn wasted no time in going down the really big slide. Rowan was the leader as we all followed him around the treetop walk and up and down steps. Sean had a good time on the flying fox then we all walked down to the stables courtyard for an ice-cream and a bit of chasing, with me doing the running around.

Once home I gathered a good number of plums with Finn's help then cut the grass. Altogether a more fruitful day than yesterday when Sharon and I both felt rotten. After Lesley and Stuart came for lunch, Sharon took the boys to a birthday party in Bonnyrigg while I took my old faithful Philips TV to the dump. 17 years old, it went phut! last week. Farewell, old pal. These new-fangled flat-screen LCD jobs won't last half that time, I'm sure.

Sean had good news last week. His latest eye test showed a marked improvement in his amblyopia to the extent that they said if his right eye had been that strong when he was first tested then they wouldn't have started him on the patches at all. That said, he's down to three hours a day, from six. It's a great relief that his right eye has improved as we feared he was borderline for being able to improve, having been detected so late. First chance we get, Rowan will be getting tested.

Marie and Michael have returned from living it up on a 40th wedding anniversary cruise around the Mediterranean. Mallorca, Monte Carlo, Rome, Sardinia and then a week in Mallorca to finish: I think they rather enjoyed it!

Finn is Four

A little three year old boy was very excited going to bed last night at the prospect of waking up as a four year old. And he was even more excited this morning when he woke up and came down to open his presents in the living room. Finn is four and every inch the pre-schoolboy, still prone to bouts of childish tantrums when he's tired but gradually growing up and showing flashes of the intelligence we know lurks behind the mischievous eyes.

He was really pleased with his Polly Pocket dolls and their accessories that we bought on e-bay. Ever since discovering them at the Harrisons' house in France, then re-discovering them at the Fishers' house, he's loved dressing up the little figures and acting out games with Sean. So now he has his very own set. We bought a Junior Swingball too although the way the summer has dribbled to a damp end it could well be next year before that sees any action.

I came home early for Finn's party which was a relatively tame affair, forced indoors by yet another heavy shower. We didn't do much, preferring to let the children amuse themselves between the rooms and feeding them early. Finn was pleased with his chocolate caterpillar cake with Smarties and four candles. The Kavanaghs arrived midway through, to stay for the weekend. Pete and I headed out on a miserable evening to see Munster beat Edinburgh 20-15 at a desolate Murrayfield then we managed a couple of drinks in Whighams before catching the bus home. It seems like an age since I was last out.

A grand day out

With Sharon working at the Foodies at the Festival show in the Sheraton on Saturday, I decided to make the best of a half-decent day and head out to North Berwick with the lads. At least Rowan was old enough now not to be eating the sand! We ate our picnic on a bench near the tennis club then moved along to our favourite spot on the East Sands, by the rocky outcrop. A good couple of hours were spent digging and ferrying water to and from rock pools, climbing and clambering and jumping off into the sand, making "slippers" (the boys bury their feet and legs in the sand) and drawing pictures in the sand.

We then went in search of the sea which had been reluctant to return from its ebb tide, me leading the be-trunked boys through the seaweed and shells and stretches of rock until we reached the waves. Finn wanted to go right in - changed days indeed from previous visits when he wouldn't go anywhere the water's edge. Rowan was running in with gay abandon and Sean and Finn were playing at jumping over the waves. I was surprised Rowan lasted so long before falling over, even with me holding on to him, with the predictable shock of cold seawater changing his mood a little. He and his brothers switched their attention to a deep (for them) gulf gouged between two rocks which held pleasantly sun-warmed water compared to the chilly Firth of Forth. Rowan's weariness and coldness finally forced us back up the beach to the car for a protracted drying and sand removal and changing session in the boot of the Sharan. Sharon, no lover of beaches, would have hated it!

We headed into town for the obligatory ice-creams (tubs rather than cones as the latter always need "tidied up" as melting ice-cream escapes towards the childrens' hands, and I can't eat cones) and a play on the green by the anchor then three very tired boys dozed off as soon as I began the drive home. Except I went in the direction of Pencaitland and Pathhead instead, wakening them at the Stair Arms Hotel for a dinner out. Sean and Finn demolished their lasagne but Rowan was more intent on making noise than eating. Afterwards, they had a great runabout in the playpark adjoined to the hotel and were reluctant to head for home, where Sharon, without keys, was waiting for us.

With the sun shining on occasion, and the boys really enjoying the fresh air and playing by the sea, it really was a grand day out.