Cold feet!

A week to go and I've got to be honest: my feet are feeling ever so slightly cold. Actually that's not entirely true. I'm experiences rushes of excitement, alternated with the grip of sheer panic. I've travelled in India several times (though I haven't been since 2001 and I'm expecting lots of changes) so I know how amazing it is. I know I love being there more than almost anywhere in the world. I've unquestionably had some of the best times of my whole life in India. It's so hard to explain without sounding like a cliche. But for me, it's a place where something happens to you. It's a dream come true. During my time there, I've felt so many different emotions. I have felt fear, discomfort, weirdness, joy, laughter, independence, love, hatred, stress, pain, grief, deep sadness, deep, deep happiness, relief, wonderment, enchantment...

I have seen Mother Nature at her ugliest and her most beautiful.

That's all brilliant for me. But for my kids? How will  Freya and Fergus feel the first time they see a beggar? Or a child their age wandering the streets with some hideous deformity?

And then there's Martha. Of my three children, she's the one who worries the most when I think about travelling. As if in confirmation of this fear, she pulled out all the stops of defiance the day we had our photos taken for the visas. The Indian Embassy require passport photos of all travellers before they issue a visa (interesting point to note  - they're not regular passport photos; no, in true Indian style they had to make it difficult - photos need to be 2"x2", hence a £60 re-sizing bill!)

Anyway, back to the trauma of Martha. She didn't want to sit and have picture taken. Following on from the school photo episode a month or so earlier where the poor guy was virtually singing and dancing to amuse her, but to no avail, we might have guessed how things would pan out. And sure enough, she dug her stubborn little two and a half year old heels in good and proper. The photo was awful, with me holding her at arms length in an attempt not to be seen and her screaming. Full blast.

Amazingly the Embassy accepted it. Disappointingly, it's a still as hideous as the memory and it's now scanned into her passport where it will remain till it's renewed in three years time!

I wonder how often she'll decide not to play ball whilst we're travelling. On the overnight train out of Delhi perhaps? Whilst trying to mount a camel in the desert? Or just being faced with yet another meal she doesn't trust?

Whatever happens, she mustn't spoil it for the others. Don't get me wrong. I feel like I'm giving her a really bad press. For 95% of the time, Martha is utterly gorgeous. A delight to be around. A bringer of laughter to all of us. She is quite simply my cherry on top.

It's just those tricky times tend to stick in your mind...!!

(As I'm stealing a few moments to write this blog, Martha is busy baking. She's mixing a baked beans, plain flour, garlic and play dough. She's making a cake.)