As Em's birthday always falls close to Burns night, we decided that it might be fun to integrate the two this year. Thus it was that in January the hordes descended upon Bradstocks Way for her annual party, this year tinged with a Scottish theme. Music was provided by The Proclaimers, Travis and Del Amitri, amongst others. We had shortbread, a put-the-photos-in-chronological-order competition and an awful lot of tartan, courtesy of Quality Seconds and a quick rummage through the wardrobe. Oh, and whiskey...

On a glorious summer's day in early June, Emily's sister Miriam married her fiancé Dave in the small market town of Bishop's Castle, where she'd grown up. Emily herself was chief bridesmaid, while Josh assisted by vomiting on the church floor (although that aside he was much better behaved than his father was the first time he got to do the page boy thing). The reception was held at the local watering hole, The Three Tuns, which does a nice selection of real ales.

Our last wedding of the year: two of my long-time friends and colleagues, who met when he worked at the publishing house in which she still resides. They married on a hot June afternoon at her church in Kenilworth, before bombing over to nearby Warwick for the reception at the Lord Leycester Hospital (which was never actually a hospital at all). Thanks to Karen and Rikk, by the way, for letting us use a few of theirs, including the shots of the happy couple in their wedding car.

This was a trip of two halves: in July, we stayed in Shropshire for a week before heading on to Yorkshire. Visits to Ludlow, Ironbridge and a day on the Welsh coast preceded a lengthy drive north for the second part of the trip: Helmsley Castle, York, Scarborough, Whitby, the railways, and lots of walks around the national park. We camped in a family-friendly site near Pickering, complete with surrounding forestry, a shower block and an awful lot of midges. Roll out the Citronella.

Ah. The annual Knight excursion to Newgale, a small seaside resort (two newsagents and a pub) situated in a particularly scenic part of the Pembrokeshire coast, not far from Haverfordwest. This is really an excuse to eat ice cream for a week, but it is genuinely fantastic ice cream and almost worth the two-hundred mile trip. We camp in a place called George's field, which is not a patriotic spot designed for English tourists, but is instead named after the farmer who owned it. Sadly George is recently deceased, but his son Luke ensures that his legacy continues.

Ah....season of mists and mellow fruitful - no, sorry, that's Autumn (although our winters are so mild it feels like autumn). This was the first year that Josh realised something was actually going on, as opposed to lots of pretty lights and noises. Both sets of grandparents came to visit on the 25th; the turkey was substantial and the Queen a little disappointing (not to mention the Vicar of Dibley). Still, we had a cracking day, and our son once more got spoilt rotten. After a Boxing Day visit to Reading, we journeyed to Shropshire to see in the New Year, where there was much consumption of chocolate and assorted hillside walks (presumably out of guilt at the amount of chocolate we'd eaten).