HALF TERM

Half term, like the daffodils, has come a little early in Wiltshire this year. We’ve hardly put away the Christmas decorations; actually I haven’t, there’s a whole deal with a loft hatch that I haven’t faced yet. Anyway they’re home, on holiday and eager to spend money. I feel like wearing a large sandwich board: one side could read NO TREATS - NO OUTINGS, the other SORRY- RIGHT OUT OF CASH. There’s nothing for it but to morph myself into an all singing, all smiling, Blue-Peter-style mum. My mission? To make delectable treasures out of string and old washing up bottles, and to devise thrilling trips to anywhere that doesn’t involve a high entrance fee or a gift shop. I assess my options.

Option 1 – A walk in the forest

Living in the country you’d imagine that we trail happily through the woods pointing out buzzards and squirrels to the children, their rosy-cheeked faces aglow with health. With all that nature and countryside to explore who needs a theme park? Or so you’d think; sadly not. Bobby, the youngest, has developed such an aversion to the local forest that he has to be coaxed through it with Polos, like a hound being put through his paces at a dog show. Max, the oldest, refuses to wear wellies, his feet being permanently welded to ‘well-cool’ trainers. He slouches along, avoiding puddles, with his fleece hood up, doing a fair impression of a New York hoodlum. Flo, by some miracle, rather enjoys a walk. However, this bonus is ruined by her becoming volubly smug about it, which winds the boys up into such a fury that fights break out.

Option 2 - Swimming

Quite cheap but not very cheerful – well for me at least. I loathe and despise public pools. The idea of lowering my body into a warm, soupy cocktail of every local virus makes me shiver with horror. I also have a problem with bare feet on wet, gritty and hairy floors – ok, I may be alone with this particular phobia, but that doesn’t make it go away. However the children love it so of course we will go, I’m not that mean. I just have to take comfort in the knowledge that by next year I should be able to join the serene ranks of parents reading newspapers, watching their older children splash about, rather than having to get in there with them.

Option 3 – Cooking

Great in theory but the mess can be cosmic. If I suggest cake baking, there are instantly three bodies fighting to stand on stools, pushing and shoving to get nearest to the kitchen scales. Flour puffs around me, eggs are cracked clumsily and sleeves dangle in the goo while they fish for tiny bits of shell. In order to remain calm and smiling, I find it’s best to go into a sort of yogic trance, believing to my soul that I am Jane Asher. That way no cake is too much trouble to bake and no chaos too messy to clear up. Alternatively, a quick nip of the cooking brandy can do the trick.

Option 4 – Evasive action

An excellent half term ruse is to be fantastically busy. Take on a huge reorganising, home-improving task that cannot be argued with. How can you possibly take them to the movies if you’re up a ladder, redecorating the kitchen ceiling? This usually works like a charm. The children disappear with their friends to different corners of the house to amuse themselves. All I have to do then is provide enough meals and wait for it to be over.

‘Life in the Slow Lane’ is written by Clare Kent. She has three children - Max is nearly eleven, Flo is nearly eight and Bobby is six and a half - and lives in Wiltshire.

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