We had a celebratory game of Scrabble today as it was our 13th wedding anniversary. I got 'vex' and 'ken', and got 13 points on my last tile, which was a blank, by making zone into zoned. That made it a draw on 252 points each. How good is that?

I heard on the radio (Classic fm - I could only switch it on to CD or radio and so it was that or a lady singing about apple pie) that you could try out a music download thing with 50 free tracks via their website. Now, this was opportune, as R had bought me some memory for my phone and some ear plugs so I can listen to music etc on my phone. The only thing was, I thought it would be a pre selected 50 tracks of classic easy listening. BUT NO! I, a non music person, was faced with the entire back collection of someone with a garage full of LPs, not unlike my father in law. Where to begin? The Frog Chorus? Frankie Goes to Hollywood? Made a few pathetic choices and then found a '20 best ever composers' album and grabbed the lot. Then found some 'Gregorian Chant Chill' and bunged that on. If anyone finds my phone on my dead body they will have an amusing time listening to the bizzarre selection, and will struggle to work me out from the tunes. It is all a mystery to me, this IT music scene. I only go into a record shop once a year to buy a voucher for my nephew, and now he is too old for birthday presents I will not need to go anymore. This online music world is like a branch of HMV but horribly big and without any staff. OK, the staff there may be less than helpful but at least they are there, appearing human in the face of such a lot of plastic. I still don't understand how you get music out of an instrument and onto a CD, let alone onto a bit inside my phone. Lou said she was in town today and came across a boy of appox 10 years old playing the bagpipes. Keep music live!

On Friday it was our pilgrimage to Bournemouth to see the fireworks. It is our 3rd year, and the last 2 have involved sitting watching the sun set, playing on the beach, eating ice creams and the adventure of being up late. The beach has always been packed with families, and people having barbecues and a 'family' atmosphere. This year it was raining. The lady behind me was on her phone and described it as 'fine drizzle'. Only the English can have so many words for rain. In a cunning plan to avoid a long rainy walk to the car, R parked in the centre of town, so we had to walk through a throng of drunken youths to get to the beach. H watched a police officer arresting a boy, probably her first experience of up close policing, judging by all the questions after. I told her he was probably a robber, as they are the worst kind of criminals in her world so far. The fireworks were great as usual, and the whole thing of being wrapped up in rugs is what its all about, so the umbrellas and waterproofs added to the experience. I asked the girls if it had been worth it. They said yes. I told R it was worth it, that they will remember forever their adventures. He said he knew. Aah.

H and I had lengthy conversations about the names of the many hotels we passed. The Royal Bath Hotel, was, according to H, where the Queen went for her bath, and also the postmen and women (who work for the Royal Mail). My favourite was when she pointed out the 'Groovy Hotel' which I thought sounded cool compared to the Grosvenor and the Highview and other dull sounding places to stay. I thought maybe someone had done a bit of a Trinny and Susannah on the hotels of Bournemouth, with a bit of lime green paint and a Feng Shuied garden. Sadly not. It was the Grove Hotel.

Earlier on that very same day we had already travelled west as far as Ringwood, for the first of 3 toddler group coach trips, funded in part by the Cooperative Community Dividend, so thanks if you agreed to donate the pence left over when you get your vouchers. We went to Moors Valley, and the girls had a brilliant day in the company of some good school mum friends and families who we hung out with. The sun shone, or at least the drizzle didn't driz. The first time A went to Moors Valley she was 7 days old, and R carried her around in his arms. We have been back since, but that cold Autumn day, when there was pretty much only us there, and this little pink bundle in a snow suit (like Maggie in the Simpsons), is a good memory to have of the place.

Yesterday we went blackberry picking in our local woods. The blackberries are ripe and ready to go, although I told the Whitmores and they went today, so by now the bushes will be stripped bare. We had a really fun time up there, and took a friend and her daughter who are a bit more used to pavements than I am, and they loved it too. I am such a fan of free food, there were fungi growing (I found 3 different varieties in about a square metre). If I was a Whitmore, I would have swiped them and taken them home to make into a souffle. But I am not, so we just filled our take away plastics with blackberries and went home feeling proud of ourselves.

The best things in life are free. Especially when they taste good too.