We arrived at my parents and I unloaded the car ready for us to stay the night. My oldest friend was also in the area, so she popped by and we decided to go for a walk to stretch our legs and burn off some energy for the children.
Wellies and raincoats on (the weather was threatening rain again) we set off across the common, over the cricket pitch and down the fields. I had my camera for happy snapping, and happily we found a few friendly cows on the way.
One of Tom's wellies got sucked into a boggy patch of the field where he'd run on a head of us, and as he hopped around his un-wellied foot ended up in the mud.. an uncomfortable experience in itself, and when you're the youngest in the group (7), and the only boy, an embarassing one as well.
Tom took off once his wellie was back on, and ran on ahead, keeping up a distance from us all. Further down, the field was divided by a tractor track, which was fenced off with electric fencing. The footpath bisected this barrier, but happily the farmer had installed wooden stiles for the walkers to pass by on. We found Tom on the track, happily slushing around in his wellies in the sloppy mud of the tractor rut.
'Come on, we go down to the stream next' I said, 'Be careful of the electric fence'. We clambered over the stiles and as I glanced at Tom I noticed he was shaking his hand, Black Eyed Peas style ('shake it like a polaroid picture'). 'Did you get a shock?' I asked him. 'No' he lied. He'll learn, I thought, and continued on our way.
As we approached the stream we looked behind to see where Tom was. He was back at the electric fence and had touched it again - this much was obvious by the way he was shaking his hand again... When he'd caught up we asked him again if he got a shock. 'No' he said innocently. 'What did it feel like?' I persisted. 'Like an invisible hand under my skin punching me on my arm bone,' he said, and he indicated a point midway between wrist and elbow. It seemed a good description to me.
A little further on the footpath passed my Uncle Michael's house. He was in his garden, and wasn't expecting to see us, and although he must have been a little surprised, he invited us in for a cup of tea, which was nice. Carol, his wife, arrived just as we were leaving, and just as the drizzle became a huge downpour, so they offered us a lift home, which we gladly accepted, it being another mile or so to go.
We slept 3 together in the guest bedroom at my parent's house. Phoebe and myself having the beds, and Tom in his sleeping bag on the floor. The next morning Phoebe told me that Tom and I snored in the night. Well! I said that I thought I purred. Phoebe said if that was purring then I must be a lion...
Raow!
Night night, Kat!
Wellies and raincoats on (the weather was threatening rain again) we set off across the common, over the cricket pitch and down the fields. I had my camera for happy snapping, and happily we found a few friendly cows on the way.
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| Twins? Pendle Hill in the background... |
Tom took off once his wellie was back on, and ran on ahead, keeping up a distance from us all. Further down, the field was divided by a tractor track, which was fenced off with electric fencing. The footpath bisected this barrier, but happily the farmer had installed wooden stiles for the walkers to pass by on. We found Tom on the track, happily slushing around in his wellies in the sloppy mud of the tractor rut.
'Come on, we go down to the stream next' I said, 'Be careful of the electric fence'. We clambered over the stiles and as I glanced at Tom I noticed he was shaking his hand, Black Eyed Peas style ('shake it like a polaroid picture'). 'Did you get a shock?' I asked him. 'No' he lied. He'll learn, I thought, and continued on our way.
As we approached the stream we looked behind to see where Tom was. He was back at the electric fence and had touched it again - this much was obvious by the way he was shaking his hand again... When he'd caught up we asked him again if he got a shock. 'No' he said innocently. 'What did it feel like?' I persisted. 'Like an invisible hand under my skin punching me on my arm bone,' he said, and he indicated a point midway between wrist and elbow. It seemed a good description to me.
A little further on the footpath passed my Uncle Michael's house. He was in his garden, and wasn't expecting to see us, and although he must have been a little surprised, he invited us in for a cup of tea, which was nice. Carol, his wife, arrived just as we were leaving, and just as the drizzle became a huge downpour, so they offered us a lift home, which we gladly accepted, it being another mile or so to go.
We slept 3 together in the guest bedroom at my parent's house. Phoebe and myself having the beds, and Tom in his sleeping bag on the floor. The next morning Phoebe told me that Tom and I snored in the night. Well! I said that I thought I purred. Phoebe said if that was purring then I must be a lion...
Raow!
Night night, Kat!
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