Yes, as Hester has said - this is our blog’s final bow. I don’t know about any of you (if there are any ‘you’ left out there), but we will treasure it as a reminder of the most intense years of our life; after all, pre-blog life seems like it happened to different people, so the people we now are have lived their whole lives in the light of this selective, intermittent visibility. Never mind, though: with the way the world now turns, it should only be a couple of years before Bridget and Tom’s lives are lived out in full web-available form on Facebook or Myspace or their ever more revelatory successors, and you can pick up the story again, and see if you recognise them. Or us.

Come on, it’s time to go to sleep now. Lights out.

As has been made apparent by the previous post, there are people who have become concerned about our lack of blogging. This is not due to lack of desire to let you know about the charming exploits of our children, or how many new words Tom has learned in the last two hours. It is due to a lack of time. Two active children and two jobs and a host of extracurricular activities make for two very busy parents. We have for a long time been telling each other that it is time to wind up this blog, but haven’t yet discovered a moment even to sit down and tell you all that. But now here is that moment. We’ve loved writing this blog, it’ll be a great memento for both Bridget and Tom (but especially Bridget), and we’d love to carry on writing it, if only we had the time. We may well post some photos from time to time, if some caring godparents (or other interested parties) give us a jolt.

But before we go, a few late items of news…

Tom: can run and climb and is generally as fearless as little boys normally are; is obsessed with any form of transport; is the proud possessor of eleven teeth; can string up to three or four words together; knows some colours reliably, but gets confused by others; counts eight and nine with avidity but no other numbers; eats and eats and is almost as heavy as Bridget (who eats remarkably little for a child growing as fast as she is); demands stories whenever possible; has pretty much learned how to operate the television and the remote control.

Bridget: can write her name, after a fashion; can use a mouse well enough to be left pretty much to her own devices with the CBeebies website; colours in without going over the lines; plays by herself or with a friend for quite considerable periods of time; is beginning to master dot-to-dot and tracing; always wants her hair in a plait (if Mummy insists on it being tidy); has been playing Birthday party games for the last six months; hasn’t had a loo accident in ages, and might possibly be graduating to nappy-free sleep soon; stays up later than she should in the evening and gets cross when told to go to bed; walked all the way to and from Pre-School on Monday without complaint (three-quarters of a mile each way, with a very steep hill to climb in both directions); has learned how to say ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’.

(If I’ve forgotten anything vital, then maybe Mike will get round to adding it in soon.)

May I quote in full a rude message from Bridget’s godparents? Oh well, if not, they can always remove it, since they own this site anyway…

“Ahem!
“It has come to our attention that you are guilty of gross negligence and dereliction of duty in certain vitally important parenting matters.
“We, as godparents to your daughter Bridget, and by extension keenly interested parties in your son Tom, hereby request, nay demand that you produce material evidence of their health and well-being.
“We wish to point out to you that you have been remiss in your duties in updating their web log, which has been the customary means by which we have monitored their progress.
“By our estimations, no news of your offspring has been made available for the past 97 days, and only two notices have been posted in the past 167 days.
“We hereby declare our extreme distress at this lapse and protest our utmost concern.
“We hereby serve a writ of habeas corpus and demand that at the very least you present photographic evidence of the ongoing health and happiness of our most beloved god-daughter and her brother.

“We warn you that failure to promptly comply with the demands of this notice will result in your names being officially added to the George W Bush fan club and withdrawal of all future offerings of malt whisky [please note insertion of correct spelling, Sureka].

“We remain yours faithfully
“NS and CM Goringe.”

So, here are some photos (well - lots).

Early 2007
March and April 2007
Early summer 2007

Bridget, as I said in the previous post, has sorted out toilet visits now. What I find really remarkable is that Tom is already getting interested in the idea. Over the last few days, he’s been saying ‘Wee. Wee.’ while pointing to his nappy. He will then toddle off to the potty, sit on it for a split second, and demand some loo paper, which he wipes cursorily between his legs before depositing it in the potty. The rigmarole has to be completed by putting the paper in the loo, and then washing and drying his hands. I don’t believe that any of this is particularly indicative of his desire to get on with toilet training. I guess it has rather more to do with Tom’s fascination with the process of doing things, which he exhibits in all sorts of contexts.