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birchkillchronicles · 1 year

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Getting to Marigold

Chapter Six

Ruby-red, Grape, Fuchsia

A Costa Rican holiday would be best.

Sun, sand, palm trees galore. Passion fruit and coconut crème cocktails by the pool. Natural hot springs, jewel-throated hummingbirds, and rainforest tours…

What other vacation could be more appealing?

Jeanie and Sylvie had loved to pull out her scrapbooks to play the game of ‘Would You Rather?’ It was relaxing—yet revealing—and they’d often laughed a blue streak over the unforeseen results.

Don was a workhorse who had to be tricked into taking his vacation days. And Bernie was, predictably, a difficult and often queasy traveller. So, Jeanie had left most of the actual bon voyage-ing to Sylvie and her intrepid son, Nick.

Over the years, she’d relished her pal’s stories about Alpine hikes and Caribbean sunsets and the Venetian carnevale. She’d dreamed of the day when she and Sylvie, both retired, could hop a cruise ship and, together, sail all around the world. And—until that happy moment arrived—she’d loved to hear Sylvie’s honest reports about the local colour that her women’s magazine so unfailingly romanticized.

On the whole, Sylvie had revealed, it had been cheaper to backpack in Austria than in Switzerland. And Jamaica wasn’t particularly friendly to gays. And the ‘all-inclusive rates’ on Mediterranean cruises really weren’t…

Gosh, thought Jeanie, who would have known those little snippets of truth from simply reading the enthusiastic descriptions of those places in her magazine? It really took hearing from someone who’d spent actual face-time there to find out…

Sadly, however, Jeanie reflected, playing ‘Would You Rather?’ by herself wasn’t nearly as much fun. But—even without Sylvie sitting beside her to second-guess her choices—it had been better than doing nothing.

This afternoon, therefore, she’d lifted down the scrapbook where she’d pasted her favourite fantasy vacation articles from its designated shelf. Comparing one page with the next—and the winner from that pair with the next—had determined in the end that a Costa Rican holiday would be best.

It was a narrow thing, though.

Paris had been the winner for much of the scrapbook. And then Maui had briefly come out on top. But, in the final round, Costa Rica had trounced the Hawaiian island. So, that’s where Jeanie was vacation-bound…

Except, she wasn’t really planning a vacation.

She was simply taking a break from designing her invitations to The Dinmont-Todd Roaring Twenties Family Reunion. Invitations that would be critical to upping the number of participants that they could expect to attend…

Actually, she’d already decided what kind of stationery she wanted and figured out the basic design. But she hadn’t yet finalized the week’s program on her inspiration board, so she hadn’t finished planning the inside of the cards.

Predictably, neither Don nor Bernie had proven to be of any use when it came to good suggestions. And so she’d accepted that the onus was entirely on her to come up with a full slate of enticing unplugged activities to fill her relatives’ days.

Like a mini-golf tournament. Or a volleyball at the beach. A family tree planting ceremony. Or an apple-picking trip. A classic picnic with children’s games. Or an all-adult pub-crawl. An outing to Gatineau Park. Or a visit to Upper Canada Village. An old-fashioned photo booth. Or a portrait-crayoning cartoonist’s stand...

Or any of them. Or all of them…

All to be savoured in a ‘Roaring Twenties’ unplugged atmosphere.

And the pièce de resistance?

The Roaring Twenties Family Skit written and adapted for the Reunion by Lindy Styre and performed solely for their relatives by the skillful actors of Excursion Theatre.

It was going to be amazing!

Of course—as yet, Jeanie hadn’t actually asked Lindy whether she’d edit down her play. She was waiting to catch her neighbour when she, Don and Bernie attended the early August performance at Windsor Park tonight. But she couldn’t see why there would be any problem…

Around four o’clock, she heard her daughter’s reedy voice.

“Mom?”

“In here, kidlet.”

Bernie poked her head around the craft room door.

“What time are we going? Dad wants to know.”

“Right after supper. We want to get a good view of the show.”

Bernie sighed and sidled halfway through the doorway. “And what time’s supper?”

“A little early. Around five-thirty. And then we’ll toddle over to the park around half past six.”

“But the show starts at seven. All the good spots will be gone. Shouldn’t we just go before six and take some sandwiches?”

Jeanie smiled tolerantly and shook her head.

“Bernie,” she said, “if you wanted to picnic at the play, you should have told me sooner. I would have oven-baked some chicken. Whipped up a niçoise salad or maybe a pot of ratatouille. And bought a watermelon to cut up. Then we could have dined al fresco in style.” Bernie was still such a naïve little girl sometimes, thought Jeanie, fondly. She really didn’t have a clue about these things. “So, we’ll just eat here and then dash off in plenty of time. Okay?”

“Mm, I guess…” Her face screwed into a scowl, Bernie slid back out of the room and slipped down the back stairs to relay the news to her dad.

A titch after five o’clock, Jeanie took a couple more minutes to tidy up her scrapbooks, clear her desk and visit her en-suite bathroom. And then she nipped down to the kitchen to prepare a light supper.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a plastic container of mixed greens from the crisper drawer and a plate of cooked lamb and a triangle of blue cheese from the refrigerator shelf. Carefully, she placed the food on the granite-topped kitchen island. And it was only when she reached over to retrieve her favourite salad bowl from a lower cupboard that she spied the note…

Dated from 5:05pm and written in her husband’s crabbed longhand, it was addressed to her and said, ‘Decided to picnic after all. Took some sandwiches. See you there, Don and Bernie.’

For an endless second, Jeanie forgot to breathe. Then all the air went out of her lungs in a rush and she gasped for oxygen. Clawing her way around the end of the island, she collapsed on a leather-topped stool.

What in the heck was going on?

It was almost too preposterous to believe!

For—instead of simply letting her know what they were up to—her husband and her daughter had thrown a fly-by-night-snack into a bag—and left!

Without. Even. Telling her.

Good gravy! Why?

Because—if she’d known that that’s what Bernie and Don had wanted to do—she could have easily tidied up much earlier, made a decent picnic supper and walked over to the park…

So why hadn’t they just come up to her craft room and said, ‘Hey, we’ve decided to make some sandwiches and go have a picnic at the play. Want to come along?’

But they hadn’t even given her a choice.

No, they’d snuck out like a couple of little kids running away from home—with a plastic sack of sandwiches and a favourite teddy bear tucked under their arms—and had never even had the courtesy to give her a heads-up!

What was it with Don and Bernie, anyways?

Was she the only functioning adult in this house?

Jeanie’s chin went up defiantly.

Other women might whimper or cry over this kind of rubbish. But not me! she vowed. I’ll show them how a mature adult acts when she’s scorned and excluded—!

It only took a few moments for Jeanie to throw together a truly delicious single serving of lamb and blue cheese salad and tuck it into a clear plastic container with a ruby-red lid. So that the greens wouldn’t get soggy, she poured a light dressing into a small jar. She also wrapped up a few multi-wheat crackers and half-a-dozen homemade oatmeal cookies—those dummies Don and Bernie had probably forgotten to bring any dessert!—and added a small thermos of apple juice, a fork and a napkin to her pile. Everything went neatly into a reusable lunch bag, and then Jeanie was ready to freshen her lipstick, tuck her picnic into her light summer tote, grab her folding chair and zip out the door.

Windsor Park was a fifteen-minute stroll away and, on her pleasant walk, Jeanie enjoyed checking out the state of her Old Ottawa South neighbours’ houses. Now, there were a few contemporary stone, glass and steel in-fill homes, plus a number of townhouse lanes stretching down to the Rideau River. But the tree-lined streets mainly featured charming brick or stucco two- and three-storey homes from the early twentieth century, many with long, deep porches and orderly front gardens and lawns. The occasional place looked a bit less well-maintained but, on the whole, Jeanie approved of the tidy domestic streetscape as she loped by.

Crossing busy Bank Street at the massive red-brick Anglican Church, Jeanie headed past the dry cleaner store that had been there long before she and Don had bought into the neighbourhood. She then continued down several more streets to reach the parking lot entry to Windsor Park.

Once onto the green, she immediately spotted the neon-yellow-roped audience area in front of Excursion Theatre’s portable stage. And there, seated on folding chairs and munching on sandwiches—while staring fixedly at their electronic devices—she spied her callous husband and heartless child.

“Hello!” Jeanie cried cheerfully—all hail-fellow-well-met!—as she invaded their camp from behind and proceeded to unfurl and plunk her chair down between their treacherous bodies.

“Oh, hi—” mumbled Don, shifting his chair half a metre to the left, his mouth full of peanut butter sandwich.

“Oh, please don’t get up!” implored Jeanie, cutting him off.

“Want a sandwich?” He gestured toward the plastic bag at his feet.

“No thanks. I’ve brought everything I need."

She arranged her napkin on her knee, pulled out her scrumptious salad-for-one, snapped off its ruby-red lid and dumped dressing all over it.

“Anybody want an oatmeal cookie?” she blandly asked.

Bernie looked up briefly from her phone and skipped to the chase.

“Right. You’re mad at us, Mom. Obviously. But you always want to make such a big deal over everything. This was so much easier.”

“Sneaking out without telling me was ‘so much easier?’ Oh, yes, I can see that,” replied Jeanie, with a vicious smile, as she ferociously forked a chunk of pink lamb and stuck it in her mouth.

“Easier than carrying a watermelon,” muttered Don, going back to his tablet again.

“Well, I hope the peanut butter sandwiches are tasty. I’m enjoying my gourmet salad, thank you very much.” Jeanie crunched into a cracker with a show of delight. “Mmm. So good. Any takers for those cookies?”

“Did you inject them with arsenic?” asked Don.

“I should have…”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” said Bernie, reaching to take a couple from her mother’s outstretched hand.

Don took a pair too and, for a moment, there was family peace as everyone munched on their homemade oatmeal treats and then washed them down with sips of their chosen beverages.

“You know, Jeanie,” sighed Don, at last, “I’m sorry. But Bernie is right. You turn even the simplest of activities into major campaigns. We just needed something to fill our bellies before the play started—and, well—”

“—ratatouille was not it,” Bernie completed the observation for her dad.

“But we could have all had lovely lamb and blue cheese salads—” Jeanie protested, not ready to give up.

“But that’s not what this situation calls for,” stated Don, as he watched his wife tidy up her lunch bag like a fastidious jigsaw puzzler. “It’s summer theatre on folding chairs in the park—”

“—and we wanted to be spontaneous and casual,” added Bernie.

“But I like to plan—”

“Yes, we’re well aware of that,” muttered Don, returning his attention to the game on his tablet.

“Planning makes things go smoothly—"

“But if you would learn to relax a little, Mom, we’d both appreciate it. And stuff would still turn out just fine,” maintained Bernie, once more staring at her phone.

“I doubt that—” began Jeanie. But the others had gone back into their screens. So she left off trying to argue with them and had a look around for Lindy.

The grassy hollow where the stage was set up made for a slightly different setting, but the same black-tee-shirted teenagers were performing the same tasks she’d seen them doing the last time she’d attended the play. Carrying on the bench, hanging the fabric on the metal pipes, setting up the props table. The only difference that Jeanie could see was that there seemed to be portable standards for lighting being installed for this evening’s show.

So far, no Lindy, though.

Don and Bernie had arrived too early to obtain programs, so when Jeanie took everyone’s trash to the garbage and recycling bins, she got them one to share.

Don just gave the thin pamphlet a cursory glance. But, surprisingly, when he passed it over to Bernie, his daughter settled in to read with what Jeanie took to be avid interest.

“There’s not much of importance in there,” offered Jeanie, but Bernie seemed engrossed by the text.

“Rochelle Orangette and Philippe Tangor are in this, Mom,” she murmured with approval. “And Chuckie Calamansi. I’ve seen a couple of plays he’s done since I left university. And me and my friends from work saw him at the Fimbria Festival last year as Chuckie the Clown. He was a riot. And his blog is a total scream.” A tentative smile flickered wanly on Bernie’s pale face at some hilarious recollection. And then she flipped the program over to scan the director’s notes on the back.

The audience had begun to thicken, but Jeanie still couldn’t spy Lindy anywhere.

Maybe she doesn’t always come to every performance, she thought. She must get pretty tired of seeing the same old play over and over again...

Eventually, the plump and pretty woman in black arrived on stage to ask the spectators to turn off their phones and handheld devices. In her haste, Jeanie had forgotten to bring hers, but Don and Bernie obediently powered off. Then, to the live music of flute and violin, the show began.

On her second viewing, Jeanie wasn’t bored, exactly. She laughed and chuckled along with her family and the rest of the audience. And she understood the story line a bit better this time through.

But, in her opinion, it was all still pretty stupid.

Once more, Jeanie was entirely unable—or unwilling—to empathize with the girl on stage. She wasn’t one for navel-gazing, and she’d never been forced to grasp the rosy reality of her deep-dyed social advantage. So, Loopy Lindy’s dysfunctional-father-and-daughter plot remained unreasonable to her.

Good gosh! Just tell your dad he’s out of line! she counselled the cringing daughter in her head. You don’t need to be such a Nervous Nelly about it!

During the intermission, Bernie insisted on standing in line to buy an overpriced grape tee-shirt. It displayed the logo of the production prominently on its front and a long list of tour dates on its back.

Jeanie figured that her daughter might just as well toss her cash in the river. Where would she want to wear such gaudy attire? But the cease-fire with her daughter seemed to be presently holding so, uncharacteristically, she decided not to comment on the foolish purchase out loud.

Meanwhile, Don had gotten into a convivial conversation with the man seated beside him and had to dash at the last minute to the portable restrooms. When he returned, the plump and pretty stage manager was already admonishing the audience to stifle their phones once more.

Unfortunately, Lindy hadn’t appeared during the break. So, as the second act began, Jeanie was wishing that—instead of insisting on accompanying them—she’d been smart enough to just send Don and Bernie to the play and stay comfortably at home.

What a phenomenal waste of time! she privately lamented. I could have spent three more hours planning my Reunion! There’s no help for it now, though. I’ll just have to wait the pathetic thing out…

Twenty-five minutes later, the show was bubbling along towards its finale. The nasty father—who’d just found out that the money that he’d expected from a sure-fire investment had vanished—was having an apoplectic fit. His doctor was ready to appear with the bogus news that the itchy rash from which he’d been suffering meant certain death. And all the while, his daughter was snickering with their ultramarine-haired neighbour behind the very solid white wooden bench.

That’s when a phone two rows over sounded a clarion call.

Panicking, the owner scrambled to find her device so she could shut it off. But she wasn’t having much luck, and the phone continued to blare.

Suddenly, the actor with the chihuahua tucked under his arm blew out from behind the set. He stormed into the audience and, snatching the phone from its startled owner’s hand, powered it off with a vicious jab.

“Madame!” he thundered, tossing the contraption back with a fierce scowl. “Your disruption of our entertainment is despicable! Never again do as you have done tonight!”

As their colleague hustled backstage with his canine friend, the actors on stage, who’d halted mid-scene, applauded. Much of the audience cheered. Meanwhile, a number of spectators hastened to recheck their phones, and the mortified transgressor, red as a beet, cowered back in her chair. And then the play seamlessly resumed from the moment from which it had been so rudely interrupted.

Jeanie glanced over at her daughter and was taken aback to find Bernie glowering balefully at the negligent phone owner. In fact, her normally anaemic daughter looked as if she’d like to hop over there and smack the woman upside-the-head! When Bernie noticed that her mother was watching her, however, she gave a tight little grimace and turned her full attention to the action on stage.

Nothing else—not even the slight chilly breeze that stirred the air as the sun set behind the trees—spoilt the rest of the play. And the show concluded, flood lamps aglow, on the same triumphant note as when Jeanie had seen it last performed.

In the darkened audience, people surged to their feet in a standing ovation. And, realizing that both Don and Bernie had leapt up clapping like mad, Jeanie hauled herself slowly out of her chair to add her applause to the general acclaim.

But just like last time, she noted—once the racket cooled down and the flood lights were swivelled to illuminate the audience area—even before the spectators picked up their blankets or folded their chairs, most of them reached for their phones.

Jeanie was going to point this out to Don and Bernie, but they were already too busy with their screens to care.

However, as she was reaching for her lunch bag and preparing to depart, the lanky actor, Chuckie Calamansi—who had played the mean father with what Jeanie felt was an unnecessary serving of ham—trotted by shaking his fedora and chanting a cheeky, “Alms for the poor? Alms for the poor?”

“Over here!” exclaimed Don and, to Jeanie’s dismay, her husband dropped three crisp twenty-dollar bills into the hat.

“Thank you, sir!” cried the actor, sweeping Don a deep bow. “You, sir, are a gentleman and a schooner!”

Really Don? frowned Jeanie. You thought the show was worth that much?

But Bernie was beckoning the actor over to her too.

“I think you guys deserve an extra special tip,” she breathed, lightly tossing in another twenty.

“Hey, thanks, Toots!” exclaimed the actor with a broad grin. “You’re my kinda gal!” And he blew her a kiss before dancing away to intercept another audience member who was waving a fistful of cash.

Watching this last scene unfold, Jeanie was stunned.

But not by the incredible and entirely gratuitous generosity of her daughter.

Rather, she was astonished to see her dour and introverted kidlet react to the actor’s extravagant flirting with a smirk and a giggle behind her raised hand. Her daughter’s normally dull hazel-grey eyes were glistening like smoky-brown quartz. And were those fuchsia dots on her pallid cheeks Bernie’s version of a maidenly blush?

“Okay,” announced Don, shouldering his chair. “Are we ready to split?”

“Sure,” sighed Bernie, but her gaze still followed the actor’s brash progress through the crowd.

“Ooh, it’s getting cool,” shivered Jeanie, trying to get her daughter’s attention. “Anyone else up for a mug of hot chocolate when we get home?”

“That’s sounds nice,” agreed Don, but Bernie was too busy craning her neck to watch the fedora disappear backstage to reply.

Once the actor was out of sight, however, Jeanie saw the fuchsia dots fade and the sparkle die in Bernie’s eyes. Stooping languidly to retrieve her chair, she immediately reverted to her usual colourless self.

“Hot chocolate? Sure,” she sighed and, tagging after her parents out of the park, plodded back to their big, old, empty house.

#gettingtomarigold #original novel #satire #summer theatre #parenting #grief/mourning

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talesofstyles · 3 years

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Reconcile

happy christmas eve, you lot! i’ve got a little present for you. enjoy this 10,5k of nearly divorced harry trying to win his wife and bitter nine year old daughter back. oh and i threw in a little baby goat in the mix too since it’s set in the peak district and i just couldn’t resist 🥳

“Penny for your thoughts.”

He turned to look at her, who was giggling as she leaned closer to him. She was most definitely not a giggler sober, but he found out that a copious amount of alcohol could turn her into one. He felt slightly guilty knowing that she was going to be hungover as hell in the morning, but she was having a great time.

And so was he.

“I was just thinking about how great you are, how lucky I am to be sitting next to you right now and that you need to drink more water because otherwise, you’d be miserable tomorrow,” he says with a smile as he twisted the cap and handed her the bottle of water.

That goofy smile of hers turned into a gooey smile of affection. “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, taking a gulp of water and handed the bottle back to him so he could take some too. She then tilted her head, giving him a doe-eyed look and asked, “what else do you like about me?”

“Let’s see,” he put a finger to his chin and tapped. “Well, I love how kind and inclusive you are, how you always care about people and that you always see the good in everyone.”

Her smile grew sappier.

“Oh,” he gave her a sly grin. “I also love that thing you do with your tongue on the underside of my cock.”

She burst out laughing. But then she leaned even closer to him and whispered huskily in his ear, “I’ll do that very thing when we get back to the hotel.”

His eyes widened and he wanted nothing more than just to drag her back to their hotel suite and take up on her offer. But he’d promised her that he’d show her around Vegas since she’d never been before, and he wanted to keep that promise.

“Wanna know what I like about you?” She turned to him, still with a gooey smile on her face.

“Do I ever,” he smirked.

“I like that you’re hands down the kindest human I’ve ever met,” she began. “You’re genuine, and grounded. Funny too. I truly hit the jackpot with you. I’m the luckiest girl on earth.”

“Oh,” she added as an afterthought. “And you’re really good with your tongue.”

He wanted to laugh, because she always made him laugh. But he was still stuck on the fact that she thought she was lucky to be with him. He felt exactly the same way about her, like this was always meant to be.

“I wasn’t looking for this,” he admitted honestly. “I know it’s only been six weeks, but I really can’t imagine never having met you.”

“Me too,” her eyes were bright, shining with excitement. “It’s weird, right? Because I swear I’ve never felt such a deep connection with someone this quick.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He murmured. “That there’s a perfect person for everyone out there?”

She tilted her head. “Do you think that’s us?”

There was no hesitation in his answer. “I do think that might be us.”

“I think so too,” she said with a tender smile.

This was real.

He was overwhelmed with the understanding that she was his, and he never wanted to let her go.

So he suggested what any sane, semi-drunk man would at that moment. “We’re in Vegas. We should get married.”

***

Harry

Pulling into the drive of what used to be our holiday cottage, but is now where my wife and children live full-time without me, feels strange to me. There’s that moment of what feels like a homecoming—that sense of belonging somewhere where I feel safe, and I know my happiness is inside.

But now, for the first time in ten years, there’s a sense of detachment that I know I’ve got to put in place. It is why I need to take a moment or two in the car before I walk inside to sort myself out and put on a shield. A shield which lets me walk inside, and be okay with the fact that I don’t live there anymore even just for the holidays.

This charming little cottage, which can’t exactly be called little since it is quite spacious and has three bedrooms, has always been more of a second home rather than a holiday home for us. We used to come here often, sometimes even only for the weekends. I’ve always loved this place. Now, looking back, I realised that many of the happiest times during our marriage were spent in this home.

It was where we spent the first few weeks soaking in newlywed bliss after that whirlwind of a trip to Las Vegas when we decided out of nowhere to tie the knot. Then there were the sleepless nights with a wailing newborn, because even though both of our babies were born in London, we always whisked them off here to Bakewell shortly after so we were close enough that both sets of their grandparents could dote on them during the first few weeks of their lives.

After I exit the car, I walk up to the front door and ring the doorbell. I don’t feel comfortable walking in as I respect that this is YN’s sanctuary now. The wait isn’t long, because in just a few seconds, the door is opened and there’s my wife, looking like a breath of fresh air.

It had been eight long months since the last time I saw her. Last time was the night when she asked me to leave our marital home, and I fled to LA first thing the next morning. I talked daily with the kids on the phone, but I didn’t really recall ever getting the chance to talk to her aside from the quick polite greetings before she handed her phone to the kids.

“Hey,” she says, her expression a bit guarded. I’ve missed her so much that it takes everything in me to keep myself from pulling her into my arms and kiss the fuck out of her. “Come in.”

“You alright?” I ask her as I follow her into the house. This may sound like I’m just making a small talk, but I’m not. I’m genuinely curious and I want to know how she’s doing.

But she doesn’t even respond to my question. All I get is a head-tilt motioning towards the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen.”

My gaze immediately lands on the accent table that holds a lot of photos and a key bowl. I silently let out a sigh of relief seeing YN hasn’t removed all of the family photos with me in it. It’s a good sign, but I don’t have much hope behind that. Maybe that’s just her trying to keep everything as normal as possible at home for the kids.

My wife and I never had a big fight when we separated. It had been somewhat rational, but still emotional, discussion. She wasn’t angry, she was just done. And I didn’t fight for her. Instead, yours truly here walked away the next morning and didn’t look back.

I’ve done a lot of dumb things in my life. But nothing ever compares to that. That was pretty fucking stupid on my part, and I know I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

I’ve accepted that maybe this is my punishment for being a shit husband to a wonderful woman who doesn’t deserve to be treated like a second best. She did the right thing by kicking me to the curb, and I’d never resent her for it. If I could turn back time and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. I’d try harder to be a better husband, a better father, put my family first. But I can’t. Now all I can do is just try not to be a dickhead and make things harder for her than it already is. It’s too late for me to try to be a better husband, but it isn’t for me to try to be the best father that my children deserve.

I follow my wife through the living room and into the kitchen, and I’d be dead not to check out her arse in those leggings. It’s something I quickly avert my eyes from, though, as I realise both of my children are sitting at the kitchen island, eating scones with their tea.

George, my six-year-old, is the first to turn his head and hop off from the island stool to jump into my arms. “Daddeeeeee!”

“My Booger Butt,” I greet my little lad with a smile as I squat down to be on his level before scooping him up into my arms. Booger Butt is one of the countless nicknames I have for him, and one that never fails to make him double over in laughter whenever he hears it. He’s also Mr Tadpole Climbing a Beanpole sometimes, and he used to be Sir Screams-a-Lot when he was a baby. He thinks they’re hilarious, and he’d always respond by calling me Baddy Daddy.

“I‘ve missed you so much, Baddy Daddy,” he says sweetly as he nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and I swear if I don’t pull myself together right this second, I’m going to cry.

“I’ve missed you more, mate,” I say as I ruffle his hair and kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

My daughter doesn’t seem fazed by the father and son reunion behind her and continues munching on her scone without even giving me a glance. With my left arm full of my son, I walk up to her and ruffle her hair just like I did with her little brother. “Hey Silly Putty Pudding Pie,” I greet her with one of her nicknames, hoping to get her to laugh. But she ignores me, taking a sip of her brew instead.

I don’t want to give up, so I lean to the side and bend to put my face close to hers. I try again, “hello to you too, poppet.”

“Whatever,” she mumbles around a mouthful of scone.

“Minnie,” YN growls, her tone filled with warning.

This is why I respect YN so much. I hurt her badly, broke her heart, and it would’ve been so easy for her to use Minnie as a pawn and turn my child against me. But every time, even on the phone, whenever she is present, she never let Minnie be disrespectful to me in any way.

My gaze moves to my wife—yes I’m still going to refer to her as my wife since she still is, albeit only on paper—and she gives me an apologetic look. I give a slight shake of my head, telling her silently to let it go.

She takes the last bite of her scone and puts the dish in the sink, before walking to the staircase without giving me a second glance. I can see YN trying to hold her tongue from further rebuking our daughter, and I give her a small smile, my silent way of telling her ‘it’s okay.’

“Sorry about that,” she mutters, referring to Minnie’s attitude. She grabs a mug from the cupboard, then holds it up in silent invitation. I nod, and she turns to the pot. “I can’t keep up with her mood shifts anymore.”

“It’s alright,” I tell her, willing to take my share of the blame. “I’m sure the shift has everything to do with me.”

“Not true,” she replies as she pours the coffee into our mugs, adding a splash of milk to hers but keeping mine just like that because she knows I take my coffee black. “She’s been like that with me as well and I’m not sure why. She’s only nine but she acts as if she’s thirteen already.”

I can’t help but laugh and turn to my little lad. “Can you be six forever?”

“No,” he says immediately without even taking a second to think.

“Just no?”

“No,” he gives me a toothy grin. “I want a lego city set but mummy said it’s for eight-year-olds. So I cannot wait to be eight.”

I set him on the counter and give him a conspiratorial smirk before I whisper to him. It’s a little too loud to be considered a whisper, but I want my wife to hear it. “Tell you what, we’ll get one of those sets tomorrow on our day out.”

His eyes light up instantly and my wife rolls her eyes jokingly, “I hear that.” Jokingly, because I know for sure she doesn’t mind me spoiling our children. She does it too.

“Where are you taking them tomorrow?”

“To your mum’s pudding shop for breakfast, then probably fishing, and the toys shop now apparently,” I tell her our itinerary. I have the kids for the whole day tomorrow since it’s Saturday. It’s bittersweet because I’ve missed my children and I can’t wait to spend time with them, but I’m also sad because what I wouldn’t give to turn tomorrow into a family day out instead. I know she would most likely decline, but I can’t help offer her, “would you like to come with us?”

She gives me a subtle shake of her head. “No thanks. Enjoy it, it’s your time with them.”

***

I’m renting a room above The Old Nags Head during my stay here. I plan to stay for a week before I have to go back to London, and even though the thought of having to leave my children again is killing me, I’m trying to cheer myself up by reminding myself that it’ll be Christmas soon enough and I’ll get to visit again.

But then I’ll have to leave again.

And visit again, but knowing in just a week or two, I would have to say goodbye to them again.

Fuck, this is killing me. I’m a family man through and through, and not being with them physically hurts. I shouldn’t be in this room sulking alone. I should be there in that home with my wife and children, probably helping Minnie and George with their homework or making dinner for all of us.

I was prepared to sulk some more, but then I heard a knock on the door. I was not expecting company so I’ve got no idea who it is, and I’m quite surprised when I see Jamie, YN’s brother as I open the door.

We were quite close, but now that I broke his little sister’s heart, I can’t tell if this is a pleasant visit or if he’s just here to knock me square on my arse.

“Got time for tea downstairs?” He asks

Honestly, I haven’t got any appetite. But I could use a few pints so I nod and lock the door behind me, following him downstairs to the pub.

The Old Nags Head is the oldest and most famous pub in Bakewell. The pub itself is a former smithy dating back to the 16th century, and certainly looks the part; thick stone walls, low ceilings, welcoming log fires and dark timber beams. The pub remains at the centre of the community, as it has been for hundreds of years. It offers the best classic pub grubs, and even has its own ale called the Nags 1577.

It’s the perfect place to drown my sorrows.

Except, the current owner of that very pub happens to be none other than my wife’s granddad whom everyone here calls Pop. Out of all members of her family, she is the closest to Pop, so I know for sure that I’m the last person he wants to see.

We sit at the bar table facing the window, which is good because Pop is behind the main bar, and this way I don’t have to actually talk to him.

“Ya want owt?” Jamie asks as he does a quick perusal of the menu. I’m not even sure why he bothers, because even I know what he’s going to order. It’s Pop’s signature steak and ale pie. Ten years of being his brother in law, not once I ever saw him order something else.

“Just a pint,” I tell him.

It doesn’t take long after Jamie orders his food and our drinks before two pints are placed before us, and we each take a savouring sip.

And then Jamie point-blank asks me, “so what did you do?”

I really can’t tell anything from his expression, because he keeps his face blank. But I give him a bark of mirthless laughter. “It’s what I didn’t do, mate. She didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word,” he shakes his head, “what didn’t you do?”

“I stopped paying attention to my wife. Got caught up in my career. The travelling for tours she understood, but it was when I was home and hanging out more with my bandmates than with my family that she couldn’t forgive. And what little time I had left, I gave to Minnie and George. I think I just stupidly assumed she would always be there for me, no matter what.”

“Was there any infidelity?” He asks.

“God, no,” I shake my head hard. “You know I’d never do that to your sister. I love her, and she’s more than enough for me.”

Obviously, I’m not going to tell him this, but ironically, our sex life didn’t diminish. We were combustible in bed, and my mistake was in thinking that was enough for her.

I look at the pudding shop right across the street as I take another sip, and I nearly choke on my beer when I see a familiar face walking out of the shop.

“What in the ever-loving fuck?” I growl.

That’s my wife, walking out of her mum’s pudding shop. She is not alone. There’s a guy with his hand pressed to her lower back while her head is tipped back, laughing at something he’s saying. I suddenly feel sick to my stomach when the bastard’s palm drops from my wife’s back to take her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. She smiles, all doe-eyed, as they walk to God knows where.

“What?” Jamie looks at me confused for a second, but then he follows my gaze and he finally sees what’s causing me distress. “Oh, that.”

“You knew about that?”

He nods. “She’s been seeing him for about three weeks now.”

“Fuck,” I mutter and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“She didn’t tell you?” Jamie asks and I shake my head.

“Three weeks you said?”

Jamie nods again. “He makes her happy.”

“I’m her husband,” I can’t help but say bitterly. “I should be the one making her happy.”

“Look, I’m sorry mate,” he offers, I know he’s trying his best to keep his tone neutral. “Maybe you need to get back in the dating game too. It’ll distract you.”

“I don’t want to fucking date anyone else,” I growl.

“I know it’s hard to get back in the saddle,” he adds sympathetically.

“I don’t want to get out of my current saddle,” I grumble. “I want to keep my current saddle with my wife in it.”

Jamie blinks in surprise, hell I’m even surprised at what I’ve just said out loud because I’ve never admitted this since we split. When YN asked me to leave, I assumed right away that my marriage was over. I didn’t want it to, but I thought there was nothing I could do.

But now, seeing her laughing at another man’s joke and his hand holding hers, I just know that I can’t let her go without a fight.

“Have you told her this?” He asks curiously.

I shake my head again. “We haven’t got the chance to have a civil conversation these days.”

“Then I suggest you stop being such a bloody whinge bucket and have a civil conversation with your wife.”

My shoulders immediately sag in defeat. “I know. I need to sit down with her and tell her how I feel.”

“Which is?” He presses.

“That I want her back,” I mutter.

“You’ve got to have a better plan than that,” he points out. “I mean… I’m not a marriage therapist, but I’m pretty sure that you’ve got to be prepared to fix the shit first.”

I can’t help but tilt my head towards the pudding shop where my wife had just walked out the door. “She’s moved on. You said it yourself that he makes her happy. Tell me how to compete with that.”

“Make her happier,” he says simply. I can only let out a heavy sigh, but I know that's solid advice. “Listen, if you really want to save your marriage, you need to make it work. Romance her again. Lots of flowers, nice romantic dinners out. Compliments, chocolates. All that sort of thing.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “But I do know that you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t do anything about it.”

***

My emotions are a mixed bag this morning. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to spend the whole day with my kids, but the fact that I have just learnt last night that my wife is currently seeing another man doesn’t sit right with me.

I know Jamie was right. If I want to save my marriage, I need to get my head out of my arse and do something to win my wife back. Sure, I don’t even know where to start since she doesn’t give me the time of day. But I do know that starting today, I’m a man on a mission. It’s Operation Conquer YN: day 1.

It’s currently 8:40am, which means I’m twenty minutes early. I hope the kids won’t be ready yet, so I’ll get a chance to talk for a little bit to my wife.

When I ring the doorbell, I can hear George pounding down the stairs, yelling, “I got it!”

The door flies open and he jumps into my arms right away. My little lad truly misses me, and it really does warm my heart. Now, I love my children equally, but before I got here yesterday, I thought Minnie would be the one to jump all over me since she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, while George has always been a mummy’s boy since the day he was born.

But again, I should’ve known. Since YN and I split, Minnie sort of puts herself in her mum’s corner. Every time I actually got the chance to talk to her on the phone when I was still in LA, it was always extremely short before she quickly handed her mum’s phone to her little brother. I try not to take her behaviour to heart, because I guess it’s what nine-year-olds do when they don’t quite understand why their parents aren’t together. They just need someone to blame, and my daughter is way more mature than her age. She’s bloody smart too, which she definitely takes after her mum, and I know that she knows it’s my fault that her mum and I separated.

Now that I think of it, it’s not just my wife that I desperately need to win back. But also my daughter.

“Daddy!” George chirps. He’s got a milk moustache and the sight never fails to get me to chuckle. “You’re early.”

“I know,” I reply with a tender smile. “I just can’t wait to spend the day with you lot.”

“I’m going to get ready!” He announces excitedly as he squirms in my arms wanting to be put down, and he runs up the stairs before I can even reply.

I look around, and my gaze lands on the sofa, a hazel leather sofa that YN picked out. It’s so comfy and I could nap there forever.

Then there’s the coffee table, where YN, Minnie, George and I sat around and played board games. Catan is our family’s favourite, followed closely by Monopoly.

The corner where we always put the Christmas tree, right next to the fireplace. And every year it didn’t matter how hard I tried, I could never get the bloody thing to stay straight.

I miss this little cottage. Sure, the house in South Kensington is our marital house, but this cosy little cottage in the middle of nowhere feels more like home to me. And now I truly get why YN was so adamant to move here permanently after we separated, didn't matter how hard I tried to persuade her to stay in London.

“You’re early,” my wife blinks in surprise, but quickly masks it. “Minnie darling, go and get ready.”

“Do I really have to go?” My nine-year-old whines and I feel a pang. She really doesn’t want to spend time with me.

“Minnie, that’s not nice,” YN reprimands her before I can stop her.

“I’ve missed you, poppet,” I say, wanting to look at her in the eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze. Which hurts, but it’s fine. I know it’ll take some time for her to warm up to me. “I want to spend the day with you and your brother. I promise I’ll try to make it fun for you both.”

“Fine,” she replies, before marching up the stairs to her room. There’s still a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but at least I didn’t get a heavy sigh. I know it’s a small win but honestly, it’s better than none.

“Coffee’s in the pot,” she tells me politely from where she’s sitting at the island. She has her laptop open before her, and I can see her writing an email. I bet she’s working today, even if it’s Saturday, because my wife is such a hard-worker. She works remotely for a consulting firm and I’m beyond proud of her.

I nod and pour the coffee, and I let the silence carry on for a bit before saying, “saw you getting cosy with your new boyfriend last night.”

She instantly looks up from her laptop, giving me a death glare. Her tone is defensive when she says, “that’s none of your business.”

“You could’ve at least told me that you were seeing someone,” I tell her, making elaborate gestures with my coffee mug.

“Why would I do that?” She retorts defensively. “Last time I checked, you didn’t give a shit about me when we were married. Why on earth would I assume you do now?”

Hearing that, it feels like Chuck Norris himself just kicked me in the nuts. I can only mutter, “we’re still married.”

“Not for long,” she replies faintly.

“Don’t say that,” I say, my breath a little jagged. “We can still fix this, darling. I know we can.”

“Are you mad?” She snaps, but then she takes a deep breath, and her tone is a lot calmer when she adds, “Harry, it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never too late to get our marriage back on track,” I plead desperately. “Would you at least give me a shot?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“You can continue to see Mr Wife-stealer-”

“He’s not a wife-stealer,” she snaps, cutting me off. “He’s got a name.”

“Well, he’s stealing my wife,” I grumble like a stroppy child.

“You’re being such a child,” she retorts. “His name is Luke, he’s a decent guy, and he makes me happy.”

“I’m not afraid to go head to head with him,” I say defiantly.

“Fuck’s sake, Harry, we’re not on a bloody Love Island,” she says in exasperation. “Two children are involved here, this isn’t a game.”

“I know it isn’t,” I reply with a sigh. “Just please give me another shot, darling. Let me remind you how great we were together.”

“You mean the sex?” She demands, one side of her upper lip curls in a sneer.

I bend my head and murmur, “we were dynamite in the sack, weren’t we?”

I see the flash in her eyes as she remembers, and it makes me want to beat my chest in victory. But the euphoric feeling is short-lived when she says, “a relationship is so much more than just sex. If you don’t understand it then-”

“I do, fuck, I do know that,” I cut her off in a strangled, desperate voice. “At least let me try, darling. Fuck if I’m letting you go without a fight.”

We lapse into silence as she gives me a sceptical look, and I know in this moment that my biggest challenge is to regain her trust, as well as accepting the fact that she has someone else fighting for her attention.

I know this will be tough, because I let her down over and over again. And worse, I let my children down too, because I was never quite able to make my family my highest priority. It was all my fault, I knew it then, still do now. That’s why when she asked me to leave, I couldn’t even argue. I was a shit husband and father, and I deserved that.

Trying to win Minnie is probably going to be the easiest because beneath this ‘tweenage’ attitude going on, I know she is a sweet girl who loves her daddy. I need to devote more attention to her, maybe take her on some daddy-daughter dates. I know it’ll work because I’ve never given her enough on a consistent basis.

YN is going to be the most difficult, because I really broke her heart. I’ve been married to her for ten years, so I can say with confidence that I know for sure she would never fall for things like flowers or gifts. I have to show her that I genuinely want to fix our marriage, and that my interest in her is real. It’ll be like starting all over again.

And on top of that, she’s seeing someone else and she said it herself that he does make her happy. I know she’s not lying about it, as Jamie also told me the same thing last night and I saw with my own eyes how she laughed with him last night. Seeing that killed me, because I don’t have the ability to make her laugh like that anymore, but I couldn’t deny that there was a small part of me that was happy for her.

She may have sneered when I insinuated I’d be glad to remind her of the good times, but I saw it in her eyes. There was still a slight burn, and that might just have to be my angle.

But then I remember our last time together. It was only two days before she asked me to leave and I remember coming home mid-morning after a meeting with my manager and publicist to find her lying in our bed, clad in sexy lingerie. I had my mouth on every inch of her, a good deal of time between her legs, and after she reciprocated by taking me into her mouth.

The kids were in school, and apparently, she took a sick day because I had told her the night before that I only had one meeting in the morning that day. After, she cuddled in close, and we talked for a while. She seemed happy, but then there was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she suggested, “fancy just spending all day in bed until school pick-ups?”

I mean, what man in his right mind would say no to that? The kids were gone for at least another five hours, I had a gorgeous wife naked and wanting more of what we just did…

Yet, I’d said no. “Sorry, doll. I’m meeting the lads at the studio in about an hour.”

I didn’t see it then, but I do now and it’s clear as day. The look on her face had been blank, and there wasn’t even disappointment like she would usually show me. She hadn’t tried to get me to change my mind. There hadn’t been a guilt-laden frown to give me pause.

I realise now what it was.

It was the moment my wife finally gave up on me.

My chest constricts as it finally dawns on me the pain she must have been feeling. I’m not just talking about that day. That had been our life for several years.

No wonder she asked me to leave.

No wonder she’s moving on with Mr Wife-stealer.

No wonder that, at this moment, I realise I’ve got tons of work to do because sex isn’t going to be the answer in winning my wife back.

***

“Will the baby just eat when you give it the bottle?” Minnie asks her uncle Jamie as the four of us gaze at the baby goat in front of us. For the first time since yesterday, I actually see the slight curve up of lips that form a fond smile. Seeing that smile on my daughter’s face, I’m glad we didn’t go fishing and end up going to the barn instead. We were actually already on our way, but Jamie texted me that the mother goat had given birth this morning, and he wanted me to tell Minnie and George. The goats are a new addition to the farm, so they have been so excited to see baby goats. I knew from the look in their eyes that they would have a much better time seeing baby goats rather than fishing.

It turns out that there’s only one baby goat, because the other one sadly didn’t make it. And the dam isn’t producing milk, so the kid needs to be bottle-fed until the mother is producing again. I can’t help but smile fondly at the baby goat too because it’s adorable. It’s a soft little white goat with a pink nose and ears. The dam is a Pygmy but since it has blue eyes, Jamie thinks she must have Nigerian Dwarf genes somewhere in her.

“It’s a female… a doeling,” Jamie tells her. “And she will if she’s hungry. You want to try to feed her? Look, she’s hungry again.”

We watch for a moment as the baby goat walks on wobbly legs, bleating in hunger. Jamie mixes the powdered formula and makes a bottle for her, then he hands the bottle to Minnie.

But Minnie shakes her head. “Maybe next time. I want to see you do it first.”

“Alright then,” Jamie nods, then turns towards my little lad. “How about you, mate? Wanna feed her?”

“No thank you,” says George as he shakes his head, and then he giggles, “she smells funny.”

“Can I do it?” I ask and Jamie nods as he hands me the bottle.

I sit down against the wall with my children sitting on either side of me. And as if the goat can sense that I hold the key to filling her empty belly, the doeling starts to prance in excitement and falls over a few times due to what I assume is clumsiness. I love that she can walk normally but still choose chaos—honestly, she could’ve been my third child. There’s no stopping the surge of fondness that swells within me as I watch her little antics.

“Come here little crumpet,” I coo at the goat.

The little goat scrambles right onto my lap, bleating hungrily. I wrap my arm around her and tip the bottle. She latches on instantly, and Minnie and George are aww-ing and ooh-ing over the way the baby goat’s little tail swishes back and forth so fast in ecstatic happiness as she drinks her milk.

“You’re a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” Minnie murmurs and the little tail swishes faster as she pushes at the bottle to suck the milk down faster. “What’s her name, uncle Jamie?”

“I haven’t named her yet,” Jamie says. “What do you lot think we should call her?”

“Blue,” George suggests instantly, without looking away from the baby goat on my lap.

“Ooh, I like it,” Minnie adds. “Like her eyes.”

“Blue it is, then,” Jamie grins. “Now, even though the dam is still not producing milk, we still need to train her to at least try to nurse, so she’ll do it right away when the dam is finally producing milk. Let’s see if we can get her to try to eat from the dam.”

He plucks the baby from my arms, and a series of yearning bleats come from the kid as he carries her to her mother. He places her near the dam’s udders and gives the baby a gentle push.

Much to our surprise, Blue spins away from Jamie and her mother and runs back to me. Although in all fairness, I am holding the bottle she was just drinking from. Jamie attempts three more times to get the baby to try to nurse from her mother, but she’s having none of it.

Finally, he takes the bottle from me and walks across to the opposite wall. He sits down, holds the bottle out, and calls to the doeling. “Come here, baby. Come eat.”

Blue’s tail gives a few nervous twitches, but she doesn’t move towards Jamie. In fact, she takes a few hesitant steps backwards until she bumps into my legs. I’m amazed as I watch her stare hungrily at the bottle, bleating hungrily, but refusing to go to Jamie.

“Daddy, she thinks you’re her mummy,” says George and both my children burst in laughter.

“What?” I say in astonishment.

“I don’t think that doeling is going to feed from anyone but you,” Jamie adds with a chuckle as he stands up. He walks over and hands me the bottle. Blue jumps directly into my lap.

On autopilot, I offer the goat the nipple but look up to Jamie in panic. “What should we do?”

“Dunno, I’ll just try and do it when she’s hungry again in a few hours,” he shrugs. “But if she still doesn’t wanna eat, I’ll bring her to you.”

Any last vestiges of humour, happiness and downright giddiness over the cuteness of a baby goat fades as I realise I might or might not have just added another task to my list. Heavens help me.

***

“Let’s have a daddy and daughter date tomorrow.”

It’s a solid suggestion, and I really hope she’d say yes. Her little brother has his classmate’s birthday party to go to, so I know it’d be perfect for a little one-on-one time.

We’re on our way back home after spending a whole day together. It was great, and even though I didn’t have happy-go-lucky Minnie, George had a great time, and it was enough for me. And at least she didn’t ask to go home early, so I’d call that a win.

“No, thanks,” she replies. There’s still not a hint of sulkiness in her tone, but it doesn’t sound technically warm either.

I glance over through the rear-view mirror as she stares out the window with her arms folded. Her brother is sleeping next to her, and I figured this might be a good time to talk since she’s trapped in the car with me.

Everyone always says that Minnie is a mini-me, while George is a carbon-copy of his mum. Minnie has my nose, eyebrows, chin, even my smile; which is slightly lopsided and has a dimple on one side. I know I’m biased, but she truly is the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen.

Where Minnie shines, though, is her personality, which is a combination of her mum and me. She has her mum’s sunny disposition—aside from the days where she’s got a bag on—and always sees the good in everyone. She’s our little ray of sunshine, tender and caring and always trying to make others feel good.

From me, she gets her stubbornness, which even though I know is a good trait to have when she’s older, it made things so much harder when she was a toddler. She also has my terrible sense of humour, but the thing I’m most proud of is her work ethic. I can’t take full credit for that though, because her mother is a hard worker as well.

Ever since she started distancing herself from me, I know which subjects are safe, and which are not. School always falls in the safe category, because she enjoys it and excels. So I figure now that’s where I should start. “How’s school going?”

“Alright,” she replies, still looking out the window.

Now, this really doesn’t sound at all like my daughter.

“Come on, Min,” I say desperately. “Tell daddy what’s been eating you. I can’t help if I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she says absently.

“Do you want to go and get some ice cream with me tomorrow?” That was our thing at least once every two weeks and she loved it.

“No, thank you.”

“Ice skating?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh I know,” I say excitedly. “I’ve got a show in London in a couple of weeks, Jingle Ball. Do you want to come with me?”

Minnie has always been my biggest fan, clapping the hardest and yelling the loudest for her daddy. So it really takes me by surprise when she mutters, “shows, shows, shows… that’s all you care about, dad.”

I twist to peer out my window so she doesn’t see the wince that comes unbidden to my face if she looks through the mirror. That was a direct slam against me.

That really does hurt, and I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone.

“That’s not true,” I reply faintly.

“Did you care about my last ballet recital?”

Early this year, Minnie had a ballet recital. She was so excited about it because I had just finished my tour in December last year, and I’d already told my management that I would like a couple of months off. There was no reason for me not to attend, so I promised her I’d be there.

Except at the last moment, I realised I had forgot to switch an important meeting I had with the team from the new Manchester Arena. Since I invested in it, we had a meeting every few months because I said right from the beginning that I would take more than just a capital interest. I wanted to be involved in the development, because that was a huge project and I was really proud of it.

YN was in charge of our schedule and when she reminded me about the recital, which conflicted directly with my meeting, we ended up getting in the worst row we’ve ever had throughout our marriage.

“You’re going to let our daughter down in a way she won’t forgive,” she stated.

I refused to believe that, brushing off her comment with “I’ll take her out for something special later.” But my wife turned and stalked away from me.

That day, the meeting went great and the construction was almost done a few weeks earlier than intended, so there was an option if we wanted to open sooner. YN sent me a text with a video of Minnie’s performance, and it was beautiful. I was such a proud dad that I showed the video to everyone in that room.

When I got home, my wife and children cuddled on the sofa, watching a film. George was snoozing with his head on his mum’s lap on the far end, so I plopped myself down beside Minnie. I tugged on her hair playfully, and asked if she wanted to go out to a special daddy-daughter dinner to celebrate her recital.

“No, thank you,” she replied quietly, not taking her eyes off the telly.

“Come on, poppet,” I coaxed, trying to tickle her in the ribs a little. She only squirmed closer to her mum, not laughing from the tickle but grimacing like she didn’t want to be touched.

YN stared over Minnie with sorrow in her eyes. She gave a tiny shake of her head, but I wasn’t ready to give up.

“The Ivy?” I tried to tempt her because my kid loves chips, and she’s obsessed with their truffle and parmesan chips.

“No, thank you,” she muttered again, her head resting on her mum’s shoulder and her arm crossed over her middle. YN cuddled her with an arm around her shoulder. It had been clear that they were a unit, and I hadn’t been included.

“Minnie decided she wants to stop ballet lessons, so that was her last recital.”

“Oh,” I’d replied dumbly.

I couldn’t think of another damn thing to say because to do so would be disingenuous. There’s no doubt I killed my daughter’s potential love of ballet by not coming to her recital. I knew that because of YN’s expression of disappointment and Minnie’s dull dismissal.

Later that night, I walked by Minnie’s room and glanced in as the door was slightly open. I had bought her a bouquet of flowers that I gave her before I left for my meeting, and I saw that they’d been stuffed into the bin beside her desk.

I blink out of that memory, feeling the heavy weight of guilt. “Of course I did, my love. If I knew-”

“But not enough to come,” she replies dully. “And what about my debate competition? George’s piano recital? You showed up to none of them.”

I sigh heavily. “Minnie, a lot of parents have demanding jobs where they’re required to work or travel more than others. Sometimes A&E doctors have to work on Christmas and cannot see their children open the presents. Sometimes, a firefighter has to leave their house at night and can’t tuck their kids in bed.”

“I understand that,” she whirls and looks at me through the rear-view mirror. “Except you’re not saving lives or fighting fires, are you? You just get up on a stage and sing.”

“I’m a terrible dad, aren’t I?” I concede. “I know I’ve done things wrong in the past, but I’m trying to make it up to you, poppet. But I can’t do it if you won’t let me.”

She doesn’t say anything and it’s killing me. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” she rushes to assure me and I feel a little lighter. My daughter may act like a tween and have some bitter feelings towards me, but she loves me.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” I continue. “Tell me how to make it up to you and I’ll do it. I want things to be good between us again.”

Her eyes flare with shock, and then they dart away as if she’s considering something. I wait expectantly. Maybe she’s going to finally open up and pour out her feelings for me. I’m ready for it.

I’m ready to listen, and validate, and reassure her that she, along with her mum and brother, are the loves of my life.

Her gaze comes back to me, her expression serious, and I brace.

“Can we get a puppy?”

What?

There’s no stopping the unlocking of my jaw and the dropping of my mouth because this was the last thing I expected her to say.

I’m so caught off guard that I can’t even think to immediately tell her ‘no’, which gives her time to launch into all the reasons why we should have a dog.

“Minnie, puppies are a lot of work. You’ve got to potty train them, teach them manners, and they get up for hours at night.”

“I promise I’ll do all that,” she exclaims.

“Like how you were supposed to take care of Fishy?” I can’t help but remind her. Fishy was her goldfish that we had to throw a funeral for a few years ago because she forgot to feed him. That poor sod died of hunger.

Minnie rolls her eyes. “I was six.”

She’s got a point.

Still, it’s obvious part of her request is manipulation because she threw it at me when I opened myself up to vulnerability. She knows I’m trying, and she’s throwing me a clear bone.

Get her a puppy, and all will be forgiven.

“Tell you what,” I look over my shoulder after I parked the car since we’ve reached home. “I promise to think about it, and I’ll talk to mummy.”

“Really?” She bounces in her seat in excitement.

“We’ll talk about it,” I reiterate in a calm, even voice. But there’s no stopping her excitement. The fact that I’m willing to consider is a huge victory for her because she knows that when I make my mind up about something, I never change it.

I open the door for her, and she is quick to unbuckle herself and throws herself at me.

I’m so surprised at the spontaneous act of affection that I almost don’t hug her back. It’s been so long since she’s shown this to me, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

I squeeze her tight, and I can only hope that my darling girl will always love her daddy the way she does right now.

George doesn’t even stir as I pick him up, and I tuck him in his bed straight away since I don’t want to wake him up. He must be tired, and good thing I’ve fed them both dinner.

Minnie even gives me another hug before she gets ready for bed, and that results in me having a permanent smile on my face even as I walk down the stairs and into the kitchen to see my wife.

“She’s chirpy,” YN comments when she sees me walking into the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“Got her to talk to me,” I smirk.

She looks surprised, and well, I can’t blame her. “Did she?”

“She did,” I nod. “Pointed out all my flaws, and when I asked her how I could make it up to her, she asked for a puppy.”

“What?”

“Exactly my reaction,” I chuckle.

“Boy, if she’s this good at emotional blackmailing at nine, we’d probably be in deep shit in a couple of years,” she jokes and I can’t help but laugh.

I’ve missed this.

“Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“I can’t.”

“What? Got a hot date already?” I ask teasingly, but her silence tells me what I don’t want to know. “Oh, you’re going out with him.”

“Mr Wife- I mean Luke asked me out first and I already said yes.”

I shouldn’t be laughing because the fact that my wife going on a date with another man is not funny at all, but it’s hard to hide my smirk when she almost calls him by the nickname I’ve given him, Mr Wife-stealer.

“Well, fair enough. He asked you first,” I say nonchalantly. “What does he do?”

“He’s an A&E doctor at the Northern General,” she says, her tone lightens a little.

“Smart then isn’t he,” I mutter.

“Yes. He’s smart, attentive, caring and generous with his time.”

I keep my expression and tone bland, but she landed a direct blow there and it fucking hurts. “All the things I’m not,” I state, voicing the conclusion she was aiming at.

“Well,” she drawls with a tiny bit of sympathy. “I do think you’re smart.”

I give her a side eye-roll before I decide to be downright nosy and ask, “you can’t have been on many dates then?”

“True,” she chirps, a gleam in her eye as she sticks the knife in. “He is busy and his schedules are unpredictable. But when he’s gone, he makes sure I know I’m always on his mind. He sends me flowers for absolutely no reason other than because he wants to, calls me every day and we text all the time.”

Well, sodding fucking bollocking shit wank. I didn’t think YN would fall for that crap. And I realise… I never thought to do that stuff for her. I was the self-absorbed type of person who figured that my wife knew I thought about her all the time when I was away. I mean we were married, so I just assumed she knew.

I’m a shit head.

“What else does he do for you?” I ask and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks suspiciously.

“I told you I want our marriage to work.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, trying to read my tone and see whether I’m being genuine or it’s just bollocks. Finally, she replies primly, “I’m not giving away his secrets.”

What the fuck does that mean? Have they shagged? I would bet a million pounds they had not though, because I know YN and she wouldn’t enter into that deep of a relationship lightly.

Without even thinking twice, I make a sudden step into her. My arm goes around her waist and I pull her body into me. Not a single inch of space between us. Her mouth opens in a gasp of surprise, and I use the opportunity to kiss her.

I kiss the fuck out of my wife.

Her hands slap against my upper arms, and her fingers dig into my sleeves. Even as she’s pushing me away, her mouth opens, and her tongue touches mine briefly.

When I pull back, I ask, “did he kiss you like this?”

She shakes her head, breathlessly admitting, “we haven’t-”

My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not,” she murmurs.

“How long exactly have you been seeing him?”

“About four weeks.”

“Honey, he’s rooting for the other team,” I tell her and she slaps my arm.

“Sod off, he’s not,” she counters.

“Four weeks with the hottest, most gorgeous, shaggable woman and he hasn’t tried to kiss you? I mean not that I’m not grateful because, fuck, I am. But wow.”

“Of course he did try,” she rolls her eyes. “But I’m not ready for that, and he’s okay with us taking it slow.”

For a second I don’t say anything in response. Instead, I loosen my hold, bringing my hand to her lower back, and cupping her intimately from behind. Moaning, she leans into me. “I’m guessing he hasn’t touched you like this then.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she lets her eyelids flutter closed as her teeth bite into her lower lip.

Fuck. I could drag her to the floor right now, and we could go at it.

But then she comes to her senses, blinking rapidly, and I release her immediately when she gives me a tiny shove backwards.

“You’re not playing fair,” she accuses.

Damn right I’m not. I grab her upper arms, pull her back into me for one last kiss before I let her go just as quickly. “I’m playing to win.”

She takes a step back, brushes a wisp of hair from her temple, and puts on a cool expression. “That’s not going to make me take you back.”

I smirk.

She waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re great with your hands and your mouth, but a lot of men know how to please a woman.”

She’s got a bonus point for trying to make me jealous, but I’m not falling for it. Instead, I give her a devilish smile and dip my head towards her.

“That’s true, but no one will ever please you the way I can.”

I’m enjoying our banter, and I expect her to come up with a snappy retort that might make me kiss her again.

Instead, her expression is sad when she says, “I wish I could be happy with that.”

My heart squeezes, and I lift a hand to palm the side of her neck. I wait until she meets my gaze. “We’re more than just sex, darling. I know you need and deserve more. I’m ready to prove that to you.”

I lean in, pressing my lips to her forehead.

She doesn’t respond as I pivot and head through the living room, letting myself out the door.

All in all, I think that went very well.

***

I’m back at my wife’s cottage, waiting for my kids as they get ready upstairs. Minnie has finally agreed to go on a daddy-daughter date and George is going to an overnight sleepover birthday party, and I’ll drop him off at his classmate’s house before I take his sister out to dinner. I’ll make sure to make it up to him by taking him on a special one on one date too next week.

There’s a light rap on the door, and my head swings that way. I have no doubt that it’s Mr Wife-stealer who’s going to take my wife out on a date.

I glance towards the master suite, but the door is closed. YN is probably putting on the finishing touches of her makeup. And the kids are still upstairs.

Nothing left to do but let him in.

Forcing a smile, I open the front door. He blinks in surprise to see me standing there, and I know I’ve got two options here; I could either easily dispel the awkwardness by being cool, welcoming and explaining our schedules happened to overlap.

Or… I could use whatever amount of alone time I have with him to instill some doubt inside his head.

That would be a dirty play, but as I have told my wife, I play to win.

Broadening my smile, I stick my hand out. “You must be Luke. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Harry.”

He seems momentarily frozen, but then basic manners take over. When he shakes my hand, it’s a bit limp, perhaps denoting a lack of confidence. After I release him, I bid him entrance with a sweep of my hand. “YN is in the bedroom. She’s still getting ready.”

Luke frowns over the fact that I know YN is in the bedroom. Probably over me even being here to talk to him. But I don’t dispel any innuendo he might glean from that.

I loop an arm around his shoulders, clamp down, and start guiding him to the kitchen. “Come on in and sit for a bit while she’s finishing up. Want a beer?”

Luke moves to one of the island stools, looking completely frazzled. “Uh… no, thank you.”

I shrug, moving to the fridge and opening it. Grabbing a bottle, I say with a sly grin as I close it. “So glad YN still stocks my favourite beer.”

I am so going to hell.

But that’s the truth. It’s my wife’s favourite beer, too, but I don't tell him that. Instead, I let the implication that I come over and have beers often. Luke’s frown deepens.

“YN tells me you work at the Northern General?” I take a sip of my beer, then lean my forearms on the island directly across from him so we’re eye level.

“Yeah… uh, that’s right.” Poor Luke. He seems incapable of carrying on a polite conversation with the husband of the woman he’s dating.

But I’m going to give him a pass. Setting my beer down, I straighten. “Let me go tell YN you’re here.”

“Um… you don’t have-” he starts to say, but I move past him without a backward glance. Through the living room, down the small hall, and a hard left takes me to the master suite. The door’s closed. I don’t bother knocking because I know YN is dressed.

I find her in the ensuite, her makeup drawer open and she’s huddled over it, touching something inside.

“Your date’s here,” I announce.

She lets out a yip of fright, shoving whatever it was in her hand to the back and slamming the drawer closed.

“Damn it, Harry,” she snaps, her palm pressed against her heart. “You scared the hell out of me. And what are you doing in my room?”

“Just running an errand for you. Wanted to let you know your date is here,” I say casually and I give her a mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, I welcomed him in, offered him a drink, and made small talk.”

She rolls her eyes, rising from her vanity chair and moves past me without another word. I start to follow, but then I hesitate and turn back to the drawer of her vanity. Quietly, I pull it open as far as it will go, spotting a picture of YN and me stuffed in the back.

I recognise it. It’s from a trip we took to Anguilla a few years back, just the two of us, and fuck if we didn’t look happy and deeply in love.

Was that what she was looking at when I walked in?

That could be good or bad, but either way, no way to know the answer. I shut the drawer, then catch up to her as she’s moving through the living room. Luke sees her, sliding off the stool. When she holds out her hands, he takes them and leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

Lame.

I sit on the armrest of the sofa, watching. Luke glances over YN’s shoulder at me as he pulls back, smiling victoriously.

I just smirk back. Because he’d probably lose it if he knew the type of kiss I gave my wife just last night. But I’ll keep that information to myself, though.

YN grabs her handbag off the accent table near the staircase before addressing me. “Make sure Minnie locks up when you leave, and remind George I’ll pick him up at ten tomorrow morning.”

I give her a jaunty salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

In return, I get another eye roll.

Luke puts his hand on my wife’s back, shooting me a look that says, ‘she’s mine tonight’, and I want to punch his teeth down the back of his throat. I just smile blandly, because, in just a few minutes of talking to him and watching how they interact, I can tell he’s getting nothing more than a friendly kiss when he brings her home.

YN might want to keep pushing at that relationship, but I am willing to bet that it’s not going to go anywhere. I know this, because I’m sure that my wife is still in love with me.

Read part II here!

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #dad!harry #dad harry styles #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles imagines

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casitoma-blog · 5 years

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The Absolute Best Plan to Use for French Southern Territories Visa Revealed

https://www.ivisa.com/french-southern-territories-visa

Your nation's consulate or embassy will be able to help you extend your passport if necessary. This requirement might be satisfied by presenting a passport but may also be met by presenting different kinds of government-issued identification. In most instances, CBP inspectors will enable you to reenter the usa if you're otherwise admissible and your DSO has properly annotated your Form I-20. How to Choose French Southern Territories Visa

In the length of stay box on the sticker, you will get the range of days during which you might stay in the Schengen Area. You will always get a reply within two days, except during holidays. On arrival, you might be requested to confirm that you've got sufficient funds offered for the whole period of your stay. What You Need to Know About French Southern Territories Visa

It's vital that you think about the location of the hotel to make certain it's accessible to the city proper. Many secondary roads aren't paved. If you're not returning to your home country, you should inspect the prerequisites of the nation you are visiting. The Secret to French Southern Territories Visa

Thus if you prefer to acquire your visa in smoothest way, it's better to secure your appointment ahead of time through internet basis. You may require proof of onward travel too. Nevertheless, these times may vary and there's no guarantee your visa will be prepared within this time period.

The DOM-TOMs are spread out all around the world. Foremost on your head ought to be the matter of the travel visa. However, this visa has only limited uses and many people who desire to stay in France will want to create an application for a lengthy stay visa, with or without the aid of counsel.

The schooling process is intended to fulfill the requirements of indigenous communities together with the general Canadian public. Our highly qualified immigration specialists will aid you in processing your UK visa employing a detail-oriented and all-inclusive approach. You will have to offer evidence of two years work experience and proof of your specialization within the area of internet development.

You'd want to demonstrate that you've got financial and societal ties to the country strong enough to ensure it is irrational that you abandon your residence there. Additional the minor children of aliens established legally in France can likewise be sponsored for visas to come back to the family unit. Some countries require your passport be valid for three or more months after entering their nation. Top Choices of French Southern Territories Visa

Coercion necessitates justification. Visa is going to be granted upon arrival. If USCIS has approved your OPT you'll be expected to get your EAD in hand to re-enter the usa, along with your Form I-20, valid passport and visa, and a letter of employment in case you have one.

Whether or not a prospective visitor needs a visa is dependent on his nationality and how long he intends to remain in the Netherlands. There's a possiblity that the consulate will look over your J1 visa application the exact same way they looked at your Visa Waiver previously. If you would like to upload your latest picture in the on-line form, click on Upload Photo.

When submitting your application, you have to be in a position to create a travel document which will be valid for three or more months following your visa expires. Your international advisor can provide you more information regarding your choices. My card won't allow me access to internet benefits If you are having trouble accessing online advantages, please check to see whether your card is active. The French Southern Territories Visa Cover Up

If DoS denies your visa, you won't be in a position to go back to america. Saint-Pierre is among the cities in Reunion Island. If you opt to work without proper authorization, your visa is going to be revoked and you'll be made to leave the usa.

Regardless, Cuba presents an unusual dilemma for American travelers as it is against the law of america for people to stop by Cuba without a distinctive license. Moreover, holders of a valid visa or residence permit from america, Canada or the uk and holders of diplomatic passports do not need a visa. Many times, the exact same professors who teach the field on ORU's campus teach courses for the internet campus. Ok, I Think I Understand French Southern Territories Visa, Now Tell Me About French Southern Territories Visa!

If everything goes smooth with no problems, it typically requires a couple weeks for a brief visit. Please check here to see whether it is possible to buy the card online in your nation. If you're thinking of staying for quite a long time, or working in France, it may be helpful to understand something of the customs of the nation.

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chetrossbonner-blog · 6 years

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Rewards Of Dance Class For Youngsters

No 1 would argue that London's nightlife is not vibrant and diverse, but couple of people realise just how diverse. You'll never be in for a dull evening at the Dogstar with R&b, hip hop, funk and drum ‘n' bass music bringing in an eclectic mix of folks. Old tube carriages perched on the roof, secret archways, a banging sound method and an impressively massive dance floor - there is a lot to like about this East London club. It was a rainy, miserable Friday night but with Bar Kick and Queen of Hoxton on the agenda I knew the climate would not be capable to dampen our spirits. Also, the class embraces the dancing style located at the clubs to make positive that the enthusiast is nicely equipped to occupy the dance floor at the different clubs. Bars, pubs, social and comedy clubs have also seen numbers drop. These lessons the young children can carry throughout life, and the kind of dance whether it be street dance or a quantity from a West End musical, all present the same values. Dick described the venue as "one particular of the best clubs in the globe" and mentioned shutting its doors was a setback for London, which has just celebrated the opening of a 24-hour metro. Notable nightclubs involve Egg Nightclub in Kings Cross, Cargo Nightclub in Shoreditch and Pacha positioned in Victoria. "The New York venues that have been shut down have been much more of the DIY sort - I'm speaking barely-legal music venues or Brooklyn warehouses moonlighting as a dance club. You will certainly delight in listening live music and at the similar time dance for the complete night. A evening at BCM incorporates an all inclusive bar, the finest popcorn and foam parties on the island and three separate locations. Our venue can be employed for varieties of functions such as private events, corporate events, specific events, intimate celebrations, weddings celebrations, birthday parties, anniversaries and reunions. With them comes a rush of cultural enthusiasm, which has spawned all the things from music festivals to hip clubs and Irish pubs. The DJ was ripping out Hip Hop and top rated 40 Hits and we got our dance on. Persons at yahoo have been truly beginning to mingle and get to know each and every other both on the dance floor, and at the bar. There is no want to go to the bars or clubs to discover your mate or companion. With people becoming increasingly aware of the connotation of holidays in their lives, blissful tourist destinations such as Phuket is witnessing a substantial inflow of travelers which also is increasing every single year.

#street dance clubs in london #best nightclubs in london for students #street dance classes in london for beginners #night clubs near london ky #dance music clubs in london

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marxpobert-blog · 5 years

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Mark Twain was absolutely right. The heavens were definitely a replica of Mauritius. To quote him, “Mauritius was made first and then heaven. And heaven was copied after Mauritius.” Mauritius was paradise itself. The ocean changed colours – from turquoise to teal, aquamarine to sapphire. The winds were flirting with the sugarcane stalks of the lush plantations as the waves of the ocean danced to the tunes. The mountains carpeted by forests framed the distant horizon. And the skies were magically adorned by rainbows – sometimes a couple of them. I was swept away by the beauty of Mauritius but I was overwhelmed by the island holiday planned by Club Med resorts. I stayed in two stunning luxury properties and one of the best Mauritius beach resorts – Club Med La Plantation D’Albion and Club Med La Pointe Aux Canonniers and they are one of the best places to stay in Mauritius.I was simply spellbound.If you are planning a trip to Mauritius, here are five reasons why you must plan it with Club Med Mauritius.

1.Postcards from Paradise

Mauritius is absolutely stunning and at Club Med, you are literally living inside a picture post card that is straight out of paradise. I woke up to the songs of the birds at a luxurious resort, Club Med La Plantation D’Albion which is set amidst 21 hectares of lush, wild and bountiful nature with the ocean for company. The Village as they call it is extremely cosy and has a very personal vibe to it. Zen pools and gardens greet you as even the rooms face the sea.

The property set in a lush woodland has two beaches protected by a coral reef. I was in a trance however when I stayed at the recently renovated Club Med La Pointe Aux Canonniers, one of the most beautiful Mauritius beach resorts where I was literally cradled in the arms of nature. Tucked away in a little peninsula and surrounded by the oceans, lagoons and coves I was literally lost to the world. Palm trees sway around me intoxicated by the breeze. And I danced to the tune of nature. The Club Med resorts are in such stunning locales and are one of the best places to stay in Mauritius.

2.Excursions to experiences

Club Med Mauritius is not just about beauty, luxury and elegance but these Mauritius beach resorts are your passport to everything that you want to experience in Mauritius. You just have to let Club Med resorts plan your entire Mauritian adventure. The buzzword here is “ All-inclusive” – from excursions to experiences, meals to drinks, entertainment to activities and even free wifi. While breakfast is virtually round the clock, you have a choice of restaurants that serve both Mauritian and Continental cuisine and bars and lounges as well.

There are pools virtually everywhere – anywhere between two to four of them, including kiddie pool and zen pool. We played golf and learnt Taichi while some flew high on the trapeze at Club Med La Plantation D’Albion and experienced water sports at Club Med La Pointe Aux Canonniers. You can go kayaking, snorkeling, jet skiing and even sailing besides island hopping. There are several excursions that you can choose from – wildlife excursions to Casela National Park or shopping at Port Louis market based on your interest, which are some of the best places to see in Mauritius.

3.Family travel to solo travel

Club Med resorts cater to every kind of traveller.While it seems like the ideal place to spend time with your family, you can also bring your grandparents and parents here for a lovely family reunion. They call it the holiday for 4G as in four generations. Their attention to detail and outstanding service is something that can only be experienced.

The GOs go out of the way to ensure that your holiday is special. Club Med resorts also have extremely customised activities catering to babies and young kids and these tiny explorers as they are called are pampered to the core. While I realized that this is an ideal family destination, I felt that it was perfect for a solo travel as well or just a simple holiday with a group of friends to relax, unwind and chill.

4.Party every night

On the opening night at Club Med La Plantation D’Albion, I was taken in by the vibrant party as Beyonce took centre stage, The night was virtually electrifying. Later I learnt that Beyonce was none other than the vivacious Emile, a GO from the Club Med resorts who greet us everyday. I was however stunned by the transformation. The talented group just set the night on fire.

But every night is party night in Club Med.Colourful dancers sway to the rhythm of SEGA, which is not just the ritual dance of Mauritius but an expression of the lively Mauritian way of life. The night comes alive until the wee hours of the morning. There are white parties and beach parties. The spirits are so high that you are always heady with joy in Mauritius.

5.An ode to slow travel

And while there is so much to do, see, experience and explore, you can also like me just tune out of the worldly pleasures and just give in to the beauty of nature. Lose yourself in the songs of the waves as the little ditties are carried by the mischievous winds, watch the bright red Mauritian fody woo his mate, listen to the songs of the parakeets and the bulbuls, laze by the beach and gaze endlessly upon the sun and the sea, count the number of rainbows that adorn the skies, take long walks along the beach, listen to the pitter patter of the raindrops, see countless sunrises and sunsets and embrace every moment. And that to me, is the best part of the trip as its just an ode to slow travel.

In all my travels, I have been lost in the beauty of the landscape or the delicious flavour of the food or the vivacious night life or the fun experiences – but here was one travel experience where everything was served to me in a single platter. And that for me makes the stay with Club Med Mauritius absolutely special. It is undoubtedly one of the best Mauritius beach resorts and one of the best place to stay in Mauritius.

This post in written in collaboration with Club Med who had invited us to Mauritius and had hosted us in their two properties.

The post Five reasons why you must stay with Club Med Mauritius appeared first on Lakshmi Sharath.

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travkarttour-blog · 5 years

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Know about Different Holiday Packages

If you are planning your vacations, there is a wide range of tourist destinations to choose from, and good tour package but people wanting to enjoy an exotic Asian city with the taste of the Western World, would not look further, and choose Hong Kong Macau Disneyland tour package.

There is no other region in People's Republic of China comprising the mystery of millennial traditions with the dynamic modern life of any big metropolis in Occident. Hong Kong is, along with Macau, the two only Special Administrative Regions of this giant Asian country. In Hong Kong, the half day tour to the Peak of the city, the highest point of the island where the guests will surely have a wonderful time viewing all buildings and skyscrapers of Hong Kong from above. People will enjoy discover the Stanley Market, the largest touristic market in the city.

Hong Kong, one of the most affluent market places in the entire world and now a part of China is approximately around 60 km from Macau. Despite being a major shopping place it is also an excellent place for sightseeing. Canton the capital of the Guangdong in China and a past trading post is an additional destination which is a must visit site. Earlier it was not feasible to visit Guangzhou from Macau, but presently it is conveniently accessible by road and by air.

· All round the year Macau holds different international proceedings such as the International Fireworks Festival, and the Macau International Music Festival, that draws the attention of millions of people all around the world.

· Macau also organizes the twelve-monthly Macau Grand Prix, which allures nearly 70,000 visitors. A massive audience of 220 million spectators all around the world can see the races and contests that include international drivers thumping the famous Guia Circuit, through satellite.

The Bangkok holiday packages are perfect for any reason- be it for honeymooning, business purposes, family reunion, and entertainment or for vacationing. The natural beauty, the antique monuments and the wonderful islands will leave you completely speechless.

When looking up Holiday packages on a budget, then Bangkok is easily the most feasible exotic locale that one could hope for. Holiday packages start at a very low. Such packages are inclusive of Return Airfares (Economy Class, excluding taxes), Hotel accommodation for the number of days advertised with breakfast as specified, Single Entry Thailand Visa for tourists and Airport Transfers within Bangkok. The above mentioned base minimum packages are generally offer hotel accommodation at classy and efficient 3-star hotels and resorts. For a few extra thousand rupees, one can upgrade to a 5-star hotel room accommodation and get a few additional perks like trips to the famous temples and other tourist attractions like the Bangkok National Museum, The Grand Palace, Erawan Shrine and the Butterfly Garden

The Packages are designed in ways that leave some time for people to enjoy the city at leisure without a schedule or time constraint. During the free time allotted one can indulge in shopping at the various markets and even buy themselves beautifully crafted souvenirs. An important thing to remember while booking the holiday package is to look for hidden charges. For instance there are service taxes which are not mentioned along with the prices of meals apart from the breakfast. Usually these prices are mentioned in the 'fine print' of the contract.

There are lots of online travel sources offering Hong Kong Macau Disneyland tour packages. The amount of information can overload the most seasoned trip planner. This article will help you the planning process for your next fun-filled family vacation to Disneyland.

#disneyland packages #travel to hong kong #Hong Kong Malaysia tour package #Hong Kong Macau Disneyland tour package #Bangkok holiday packages #disney #Tourism #travel

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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10 Best Places To Go For A Winter Honeymoon added to Google Docs

10 Best Places To Go For A Winter Honeymoon

As travel continues to halt at a stand-still and tour companies advising travelers to “Go Near” we’re all forced to rethink what travel & honeymoons will look like for the foreseeable future.

We can’t be sure when it’ll be 100% safe & advisable to plan your honeymoon again but if we were gambling ladies we’d guess Winter will be the earliest time to plan your romantic trips (we’ve rounded up some honeymoon destinations that we’re dying to visit post-Coronavirus here).

Luckily, the November to February season offers some of the best choices year-round for travel. Whether you’re looking for a break in the snow, a week on the beach, or a city getaway you won’t get rained on, winter (Northern Hemisphere winter that is) brings the perfect conditions from some epic trips around the world for honeymooners.

Photo by Sergey Kabankov

More reason not to fret about your postponed honeymoon: while many European and North American couples opt for a summer wedding and honeymoon, it’s not the best time to travel to many popular honeymoon destinations. Not only is summer often a more expensive time to travel, but some resorts are packed with kids in July and August, while many regions are in the height of rainy or hurricane seasons well into September.

Choosing a winter honeymoon is savvy for lots of reasons, whether you get away before Christmas, or skip the back to work vibes of the new year. While it might be harder to shop for a bikini in London or New York in December, once you getaway, these destinations offer amazing experiences, ideal weather conditions, and phenomenal accommodation.

Plus, even if you’re not having a fall or winter wedding, delaying a honeymoon after a summer bash will give you both time to save up your spending money, and something to look forward to after your big day.

Still not sure if holding out for a winter honeymoon is right for you? Check out ten of our favorite destinations to visit between November and February. We’ve also made the ultimate guide on how, where & when to book your honeymoon (plus the gear you’ll need!).

1. Utah

Amangiri Resort via Bridal Musings

The American West has never beckoned louder for domestic travel. Not only can US couples travel to some of the world’s most geologically unique & stunning destinations by car (or maybe a rented VW bus?!) but anyone who ventures to Utah & the many wild states around it can social distance with ease thanks to expansive, empty National Parks, landmarks & the open road.

We shared our wanderlust for Utah’s Amangiri Resort on our Post-Coronavirus Honeymoon Guide this Spring, but for a Winter honeymoon, we’re thinking perhaps one of the many lavish spa resorts in Utah’s Park City? Imagine skiing (or for our editor Claire Eliza, snowboarding) to your luxury honeymoon suite & spending cozy evenings with your honey by the fireplace.

2. Hawai’i

Those looking for an escape from their Northern winter can count on the Hawaiian Islands’ near-perfect weather all winter long.

With eight major islands to choose from, Hawai’i has a unique destination for every type of couple. Looking for lush rainforests & luxe villas? Visit Kauai. Thinking all-inclusive beach time? Try Maui. Want to feel like you’re the only couple on your own tropical paradise island? Consider Molokini.

Or if you’re a serious outdoors adventurer (our editor Claire Eliza swears by this one…) look no further than The Big Island of Hawaii. Offering active volcanos, black sand beaches, deserts, ranchlands, sacred valleys, sky-high waterfalls & plenty of space to romp about, the Big Island is a rugged adventurer’s paradise.

3. The Caribbean

Photo via Jade Mountain, St Lucia

Photo via Kuoni, Antigua

Photo via Cotton House, Mustique, on Mr & Mrs Smith

Another post-Christmas playground of the rich and famous, the islands of the Caribbean offer endless options for a romantic break. As you might remember, we visited Barbados and Antiqua and paired with the likes of St. Lucia, Mustique, St John, or bigger islands like Jamaica, Dominican Republic or Puerto Rico, you can choose a single or multi-destination winter break with guaranteed sunshine.

Boasting world-class resorts, breathtaking beaches, and the friendliest people, a holiday in the Caribbean is about more than just lounging by the pool. Watersports, wildlife, nightlife and great food make this a truly memorable place to visit, and winter is the prime time to do it.

One thing to note though, some Caribbean islands are not as friendly as others to same-sex couples, so check before you travel so you don’t encounter any nastiness on your honeymoon. (We hear Puerto Rico is extremely welcoming to same sex couples!)

4. New Zealand

Photo via Eagle’s Nest on Mr & Mrs Smith

Photo via Huka Lodge on Mr & Mrs Smith

Photo via Wilsons Abel Tasman

With one of the most diverse, unique, and all-round mind-blowing landscapes in the world, New Zealand is a no-brainer for a honeymoon any time of year, but even more so when it’s summertime down south.

Long, sunny days make it the perfect season to hit the road across the iconic North and South islands, the best way to take in all this country has to offer.

White sand beaches for swimming, crystal fiords for diving, picturesque mountains for hiking, and stunning glaciers for helicoptering, along with all the wine tasting, bungee-jumping, and of course, experiencing Maori culture, New Zealand is the epitome of accessible adventure for honeymooners.

5. Swiss Alps

Photo via W Verbier Hotel

Photo via The Cambrian, Mr & Mrs Smith

Photo via Gstadd Palace

Some couples want a winter honeymoon that takes them away from the cold weather, but for others, it’s all about getting to the heart of it. And there’s nowhere as quite as splendid as Switzerland for taking in the apres ski atmosphere in a honeymoon-worthy setting.

Alpine resorts like Klosters (a favourite with the Royals), St Moritz, Davos, Gstaad, Wengen, and Verbier, offer the most superb winter scenery.

While skiing and snowboarding are the most popular things to do in the Alps come wintertime, less sporting honeymooners can avail of thermal spas, idyllic villages and lake cruises. If all fails, put your feet up by the fire with a rich hot chocolate, and your new spouse.

6. Tanzanian Serengeti

Photos via Kuoni

Last year, we shared a round-up of our favourite destinations for a safari honeymoon. And if it got you excited for taking a walk on the wild side for your winter honeymoon, then one of the best places to visit this time of year, is the Serengeti in Tanzania.

Before Christmas will see a million wildebeest start their Great Migration south through the Serengeti, a sight that will truly take your breath away. With calving taking place in the shorter grass in late January and early February, this is a good time to spot some predator action.

Along with the ubiquitous wildlife, the landscape is lush and green, and the rains tend to be short in winter, making for an all-round more enjoyable safari experience.

Be sure to splash out on a hot air balloon over the Ngorongoro Crater, epic is not the word.

7. South Thailand

Photo via Freedom & Freelancing

Photo via Paresa Phuket on Mr & Mrs Smith

Southern Thailand is another one of those classic destinations for a winter break, but that doesn’t mean your honeymoon has to be anything close to classic. Whether you’re looking for a plush hotel or an island beach hut, this region has got it all.

Rugged cliffsides on the Andaman Sea offer iconic scenery off Phuket, Krabi, Phi Phi and Ko Lanta, while the Gulf of Thailand to the east, lays out white sand beaches and great diving on Koh Tao, Koh Samui and Koh Pha Ngan.

The entire region boasts incredible food and fun nightlife, but if it’s a slice of serenity, privacy, and romance you’re after, while it can be hard to find in this popular part of the world, it’s certainly not impossible.

8. Lapland

Photo via Hotelli Iso-Syöte

Photos via Visit Finland

If it’s a wonderland you’re after for your winter honeymoon, look no further than the Lapland region of Northern Finland (Lapland itself stretches into Sweden and Norway too).

Like a real-life version of Frozen, this snow-covered region might be most associated with family breaks to meet Santa Claus, but it’s also a pretty stunning place to spend your honeymoon too.

With unique igloo hotels, tree houses over snow fells, and cool cocktail bars made from ice, Lapland has a fun adult side, but add in husky tours, reindeer sleigh rides, backcountry skiing and ice-swimming, it’s got lots of adventure to offer too.

With the Northern Lights visible almost every other clear night from September to March, it’s also the ideal time of year to take in one of the most beautiful sights on the planet.

The polar night, or Kaamos lasts for about a month over December and January, where it stays mostly dark over the entire period, a unique thing to experience, but definitely something to keep in mind, if you’re visiting during this time.

9. Indian Ocean Islands

Photo via Kandolu, Maldives

Photo via Fregate Private Island, Seychelles Mr & Mrs Smith

Photo via Kuoni, Mauritius

One of the most popular hotspots for winter sun, the islands of the Indian Ocean offer sheer bliss if you’re after the kind of honeymoon that’s all about relaxation.

With world class 5-star resorts, the kind of white-meets-turquoise beaches dreams are made of, and fantastic seafood, this region shows us how to do the beach bum life, in style! Though with sunset cruises, seaplane trips, diving, snorkelling, fishing and whale-watching, you certainly won’t get bored.

Mauritius, the Maldives, and the Seychelles are the most renowned island destinations, but the Zanzibar Archipelago and Reunion are also well worth checking out.

10. Yucatan Peninsula

Photo via Hacienda Uayamon on Mrs & Mrs Smith

Photos via Be Tulum on Mr & Mrs Smith

Mexico is one of those destinations that might seem tried and tested, but always has something cool and new to offer travellers. And as the epicentre of tourism in Mexico, the Yucatan Peninsula, with its lush jungles, vibrant history, and warm waters, is the ideal backdrop for a diverse winter honeymoon.

While it boasts some big resorts and palatial hotels, it’s also an accessible place to scratch the service a bit, with some fabulous boutique guesthouses and beautiful Airbnbs. Of course the food is a big draw in Mexico, but the beaches, archeological sites, colourful bars and chatty locals are all worth your attention.

Cancun might be the most renowned resort in the region, but it’s worth skipping for trendy Tulum, pretty Campeche, lesser-explored inland Yucatan, and the glamorous Riviera Maya.

Photo via Hacienda Uayamon on Mrs & Mrs Smith

Lots of cool ideas in there, whether you’re honeymooning in winter by choice or necessity. It’s great to know there are options for a beach break or snow holiday, a city trip, or an adventure getaway, even when it’s so grey outside the window!

Have you any other tips or suggestions for a winter honeymoon? We’d love to hear them!

Get more ideas for a unique honeymoon here & be sure to check out our guide on the Best Websites for Booking Your Honeymoon.

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