Only Footprints ...

Weston Woods (Worlebury Hill), Weston-super-Mare

Teddy Bears' Picnic

We’d arranged to meet some other mums – a couple at The Old Town Quarry for THE WALK and two more at the Water Tower in Weston Woods for THE PICNIC. The Teddy Bears’ Picnic.

We were greeted at midday by a fox, hanging around the Witches House in the running area of the Quarry: he looked as surprised to see us there as we did to find him skulking about.  Mums G. and C. and their two boys (aged 2 and 3) then joined us on our march up the side of the quarry to the woods – I felt like a tour guide on her patch, as my friends had never been here before.  Getting up the hill was a bit of a struggle in parts as it’s beautifully overgrown: it looks magical but those brambles can play havoc with little people, scratching faces and tripping up tiny feet.  But, I’m happy to say, they persevered and there’s only one word to describe what the kids experienced when they reached the top, where the puddles are:

DELIGHT!

Especially when they realised that they were permitted to get as muddy and as wet as they wanted – sheer abandon – and how muddy and wet they got!  Filthy and soaking, to be precise.  They screamed, they laughed and they chased each other.  My Girl, no stranger to these huge puddles, was in her element, having two of her best pals to share all of this with.  And this time, she didn’t just sit in a puddle, she laid down in one.  OH NO!  What a show-off.

The only way we could get our excited offspring to shuffle along in the direction of the Water Tower and to our date with the others was with the promise of more puddles further down the path. They weren’t disappointed.  And if poor Teddy Bear thought he was up there to enjoy sandwiches and drink, he was in for a shock because all he was treated to was a good old wash in the murky brown (a few rinses, a bath with his loving 'Mummy', a long soak and a spin in the washing machine later and he scrubbed up rather well).

Once at our destination, I changed My Girl's clothes – experience has taught me that sandals work much better in the summer than wellies, which I always end up emptying of dirty rain water every five minutes.  Puddles in her hair, puddles on her cheeks but who cared, it was time for food!  The picnic was devoured and we mums sat on the bench chatting while the children busied themselves with sticks, playing their own games and climbing up then jumping off the five wooden seats in the picnic area.  Our party extended with the arrival of two more mums with one baby and one child each – so great to meet new people, fabulous to see others enjoying ‘our back garden’.

“I like the Woods,” she told me, when we arrived home three hours grubbier than we’d left it.  That’s enough to make any parent smile a very big smile.

By Weston-super-Mum

Brean

Leaf Plasters and Cake on Brean Down

We’ve never been to Brean Down together but we have been building up our leg muscles on those steps to the woods for the past 18 months or so and now it’s time.

“Look Mummy, caravans.  Holidays!” she shouts from the front seat of the car.

No Darling.  Not Devon.  Not holidays.  Simply Brean.

Despite being rather overcast, I give My Girl the option of running on the beach.  Nope, she wants to go ‘to the picnic’ and I really fancy going on the Down so I tell her that the picnic is right up there at the top of the steps.

And up we go.  But we won’t do the full circuit – I’m not silly, you know.

At the summit, people congratulate My Girl on making it.  But really, after doing Glastonbury Tor, it’s easy-peasy, pudding and pie.  She plonks herself on the path, ready for the picnic.  It’s only 11am.

“Let’s go over here,” I suggest.  “THAT’s where the picnic is.”  I find a spot where at least we won’t be trampled underfoot by other walkers (and there are a few around today, being the trail end of Easter Week).  Ah, this is better: the sea, Flat Holm but not much beyond.  Not today.

“That rock’s got houses on it, Mummy.”  Eh?  I follow her gaze and pointing finger: Weston.

“Oh yes.  That’s where we live.”  I love to look at that hill from different angles.  Find the quarry and go along a bit.  That’s our house. There!

A sandwich, yogurt and an apple later and it’s time to run, which we do a lot of.  Ah well, it’s free and healthy).  I hear a yelp.  She has fallen into a bunch of stinging nettles and little white lumps have formed on her right hand.  I grab a dock leaf and rub the offended area.

“ I want to do it!”  Of course you do.

She rubs energetically and pretty soon the dock leaf is thin and tearing.  She starts to cry.

“I want another leaf plaster,” she says.  We hunt for another, find one, rub and wrap.  This seems to do the trick and we’re back to running.  Up and down, back and forth, the usual …

The sun comes out.  I’ve saved my pièce de résistance for this.  Cake!  We sit and eat the birthday cake made by my neighbour for her daughter.  Thanks Debbie, it’s scrumptious.  I take in the view (we can now see Steep Holm too) and My Girl takes in the icing, sponge and jam.

It’s time to head back the way we came.  OK, we didn’t get very far but it was an extremely worthwhile journey.  She is still bouncing – I wish she wouldn’t do that with steep ledges and steps around. 

We go to the café for a cup of tea and an iced lolly and then a flying visit to the beach for a little rock climb – like I’ve said before, my girl has an astounding amount of energy.

Once back in the car, Little Girl falls asleep while I drive through this beautiful county listening to Handel’s Julius Caesar on Radio 3.  Bliss.

By Weston-super-Mum