Back in Britain with Kids: Rain, Fetes, Archery and the Slow Return of Real Life
Time seems to be flying since we’ve been back in the UK. Gone are the loungey, laid‑back days of Southeast Asia; in their place, the familiar background jostle of Western life slowly creeping back into our bones. Stress seems to have crept back into our lives and at times made life very challenging.
At least the sun briefly came out. Along with it came the usual media hysteria warning us that we were all about to perish because the thermometer had hit 28 degrees. It’s called summer, Britain. Keep Calm and Carry On.
Naturally, three days later it vanished again, replaced by several weeks of chilly weather and rain. And now, as I write this, the sun has popped back out like it forgot something. The joys of British weather: unpredictable, unreliable, and somehow still a national personality trait. We don’t miss it.
We’ve been keeping things fairly low‑key these past few weeks, but we’ve still managed to squeeze in a few activities.
Archery: Hitting the bull!
When I was about Alex’s age, I had my first trip away from my parents: an adventure week on the Welsh border. I remember two things vividly:
- the sheer terror of hanging upside down after botching an abseil, and
- the pure joy of hitting a bullseye in archery.
So it felt fitting that it was now Alex’s turn to try archery for the first time.
And he absolutely loved it.
After a few early arrows that sent the rabbits ducking for cover, he suddenly got the hang of it and started pinging the outer rings like an archery version of Luke Littler.
The instructor added a balloon to the bullseye for extra motivation. Somehow, Alex managed to hit the bullseye without popping the balloon which he found deeply disappointing. But on his penultimate arrow of the day… BOOM. Balloon obliterated. Bullseye dead centre. “YEEEEAAAH!” he yelled, grinning like he’d just won Olympic gold.
Another memory added to the ever‑growing pile.
The Great British Summer Fete: A Cultural Masterpiece
There are plenty of similarities between New Zealand and Britain, but nothing compares to that classic, slightly eccentric Britishness.
And nothing is more British than a Summer Fete.
I’ve blogged about these before, but this was the first time I’d been to one with kids — which is a whole different experience. The fete itself was peak Britain:
- tacky stalls full of games, prizes and cakes
- a raffle where winning first prize was as important as winning the national lottery
- the smell of sausages and fried onions
- a dog show where half the dogs looked like they’d rather be at home
- and a tombola table stuffed with unwanted households items and toys
Buit, the kids won toys on the kid’s tombola. Sofia won second prize in the dog show. I won a fiver on Play Your Cards Right. Dad won a rubber cooking utensil none of us could identify. Mum failed spectacularly in the raffle. We ate gigantic hot dogs that were burnt to a crisp.
It was tacky, cute, a little crazy and so beautifully British.
Driving home, we passed signs for the local Asparagus Festival. Yes, an entire festival dedicated to asparagus. I’m tempted to go just to find out what on earth happens at an asparagus festival. An asparagus parade? Asparagus‑themed games? A giant asparagus mascot? Probably an oddest shaped asparagus competition. Britain never disappoints with its quirkiness.
Reunions, Theme Parks and a Very British Seaside
Whenever we come back to Europe, it’s impossible to catch up with everyone, but on this trip we’ve managed a few reunions.
We had a day out with a family we met in Hua Hin, Thailand, who are now back in the UK. It was so good to see them again: people who genuinely understood our trip, our stories, and the weird emotional hangover of leaving Thailand. The kids picked up exactly where they left off, and for a moment, if we squinted on the log flume, we could almost pretend we were back at Black Mountain Water Park. Almost.
Then some friends from NZ, now living in Sweden came to visit, and we spent three rain‑soaked days in Great Yarmouth. On a sunny day, Yarmouth can just about pass the test. On a grim grey day, it’s… character‑building. Most of the seafront was closed: rides, mini‑golf, pirate ship, all were shut. We settled for a rickety ferris wheel and several hours losing money in the arcades. No one won anything. Obviously.
And we’ve hooked up with several other friends from our time living in the UK – a reminder that friendship runs deep and one of the downsides of emigrating is having to re-create those deep connections.
The Great British BBQ (Sort Of)
When I first arrived in New Zealand, I bought a shiny new barbecue. After several painful hours assembling it (I never did get the hood on properly), we hosted a party and I pretended I knew what I was doing. However, I burnt the sausages and managed to get complaints of half cooked chicken drumsticks.
Back in the UK, few people own barbecues, as due to the weather, you’re not getting much use out of it. And that’s assuming you’ve got the space to store it. So, my experience was only from the disposable BBQ.
Yes, that genius invention, the disposable BBQ.
A foil tray, a handful of charcoal, a bit of flammable paper, and boom — instant outdoor cooking. At £2.50 a pop, it’s far easier on the wallet than dropping £500 on a shiny grill that spends most of the year housing spiders.
So at the first hint of sunshine, we grabbed some cheap pre‑marinated meat, fired up our trusty disposable BBQ (propped up on two bricks), and closed our eyes. For a moment, as the sausages sizzled, we could almost pretend we were back home in New Zealand.
Yes, we’re all missing home at the moment. This trip has made us appreciate New Zealand more than ever: the lifestyle, the natural beauty, the endless open space and beaches.
Exhausted in London
Before our time in the UK comes to an end, we squeezed in a short trip to London.
Ahhh, London. Parties, bars, clubs, long walks in the park, pub gardens, shopping, events, shows. We did it all.
Well… we did it all in the early 2010s.
Fast‑forward 15 years and it was Tokyo all over again: exhausting, whining, hungry, tiring, meltdowns. Our two‑day visit was, if we’re being generous, a bit of a flop.
And we spend what felt like a month’s budget in those two days.
The one upside was that we got our Russian visa applications submitted. Back in the day, applying for a Russian visa meant joining hundreds of people in a large, disorganised office while miserable staff barked orders.
So imagine our surprise when we walked into a tiny, quiet office with a single member of staff who actually smiled. And joked. And didn’t shout. A sign of the times.
We did manage to tick off a few classics after literally dragging the kids around: Leicester Square, Covent Garden, St Paul’s, the British Museum, Parliament and Buckingham Palace.
But we seemed to be the only people with kids. Not a child in sight hardly anywhere. We can only assume no one else is mad enough to take their kids on the Tube or into the chaos of London.
Just like Japan and Korea, it was a reminder that we are not city folk anymore. London is an incredible city – with an edge like few others. The streets are not licked clean like Tokyo and there is underlying buzz that makes it burst with character and good vibes.
But it is best left to people in their twenties & thirties, and to be fair, from my experience, it’s one of the best places on earth at that age. Endless things to do, endless energy to do them.
Completely the opposite for us these days.
So now our focus is on ticking off the last few things on our UK to‑do list as we prepare for the next leg of the tour: Russia.
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