Hello! My wife, Rebecca, has already written a blog post about this day. We thought it would be a healthy challenge for me to do a blog piece about it too!
Okay here goes… So we set out on our travels, with the aim for Alfred’s nap of the day to be in the car. That worked well. The journey was decent. We saved money by packing sandwiches. I sneaked a bottle of one my favourite wheat beers in the cool bag - it’s a USA take on a Belgian wheat beer, called Blue Moon. Num num. Except it kept getting attacked by a wasp. I hate wasps, they are pigs. But I do genuinely like pigs, they are not wasps.
I was hitting wasps all day at the National Trust, Dunwich Heath picnic area. I actually have to respect them. Boy do they know where to congregate, adapting to survive around modern humans and our throw away lifestyle. They are like the magpies of the insect world (although I do genuinely like magpies). In fact maybe this is where bees are going wrong, they need to buck up their ideas and take the game back to the wasps. Come on men (and queen) it’s time. Time to pull yourselves out of the lavender and heather trenches. Time to smash the wasps hard in their home territories. Throw out your proboscis and suck on those sandwiches, cans of fizzy pop and all the other shit that humans discard, as if it was merely a grain of pollen.
Okay, back to the story.
We then walked around a bit, after my fifteenth wee of the day. I don't think I have ever written the word fifteenth. It’s weird. I will be honest with you, I had to spell check that.
We had a lovely time wandering around and after lunch, we took Alfred to the beach for the first time ever. It made me very happy. Although I was permanently on edge, as I think Alfred considers every stone either a weapon or a chewy piece of cake.
It was very nice to see Rebecca unwind, as she works so hard to help us make ends meet. In contrast, I was feeling slightly edgy, due to the huge amount of wasps and bees and my feeling that a global war between them was imminent. In reality, I was probably feeling genuinely concerned about daily stresses, such as paying bills and the fact I have no savings or retirement plan. I have clearly masked this concern, in a classic male move, by getting heavily invested in the bee/wasp war that I predict will occur somewhere around 2024.
Next, we went for a simply delicious walk around the incredible landscape that is Dunwich Heath.
Just get off your arse and go there, if it is within traveling distance. But don’t leave your arse behind, you will need those juicy glutes to propel you forward, in the motion known to our ancestors as walking.
I love the fact that we came back to the bench that Bec and I sat at, to chat about future kids and how I would like to teach them stuff. They learn more spending three hours of quality time in a place like this, than a week pouring poster paint all over each other, in a building that smells of boiled cabbage and flatulence.
In a cruel twist of fate, I received my first insect based attack of the year. It was a mosquito. I am now suspicious that the wasps have hired the mosquitoes as mercenaries, to conduct pre-war skirmishes. There is now a real threat of a war by proxy, fought using the conduit of mosquitoes and the bee’s allie - the beekeeper. Be prepared for angry armies of beekeepers, thrashing wildly around in pub gardens, woodlands, meadows, tropical rain forests and estuaries, as they take on the mosquito. Dressed up to the nines in their crazy helmets, it will remind you of an old English morris dance fused with Keith Flint, from the rock ‘n’ roll pop supergroup The Prodigy.
Right, back to the story again…
We detected the need for a nappy change. There was a lovely little family visitors hut I chose to do it in. Rebecca is such a lovely, respectful, kind person that this threw her into a quandary, as I slapped Alfred down on the coffee table and proceeded to wipe his pink bottom. All good, all nice and clean, I patted myself on the back for completing such a swift and efficient nappy change.
Two minutes later he did a massive cack. Back on the coffee table he went, for a rather whiffy clean up and we were back on track. I always love it when people turn up in this scenario, particularly as Alfred loves almost everyone and starts hanging out with them by default.
Virtually everyone had gone home, except for one family, who were lucky enough to be on holiday here. The mother of the family was horrified, as her four year old daughter took all her clothes off and ran around naked. I was quite concerned when she said “you are not a boy!”. I do like to think I will have a much more equal perspective with my kids on these matters, as this little girl may now think it is normal for boys and men to get their willies out everywhere.
We spent a good hour playing with Alfred in the picnic area (now devoid of wasps). I stupidly decided it would be cool to crawl through a toddlers tunnel. I suffer from vertigo and mild claustrophobia and it was akin to one of those caving disaster horror movies. Alfred loved me doing it though and tried to push me back in, whilst I was having a Vietnam flashback.
We packed up and I fed Alfred dinner in the back of the car - he was so happy and smiley. He got down to sleep, for our planned car to bed transfer, then I realised we needed diesel and he woke up for the rest of the journey. It resulted in a late bedtime, but who cares, we will all be stardust one day and I would only regret grumbling.
I loved it! It was a dream day. Except for the wasps, and when Alfred bit my nipple.
PRESENT: Coffee addict Dan is 42, a father, husband, health & fitness professional, filmmaker, photographer and budding scientist. Welcome to his tiny part of the universe, where he chats nonsensical about the topics he loves.