How sweet to be a cloud

Just as the football season is coming to an end and Pud and Eddy stop deserting us on a Saturday afternoon, the blooming cricket season starts, leaving me and Molly home alone on a Sunday instead! Today was such a day and rather than sit in the house awaiting their return (as if), I suggested to Molly that we take a walk to Bradgate Park. You’d think that I’d asked her to eat a dog poo sandwich from the look she gave me but I stuck to my guns and off we trotted.

Did you ever do that thing when you were a kid and you really didn’t want to go on a boring trip with your parents, so you sulked and repeatedly thwarted their attempts at conversation with mono-syllabic grunts?

Yep, that’s pretty much what Molly did.

Even my tale of the ducking pond that lies on the outskirts of the Park didn’t seem to impress her…..

Legend has it that many years ago, women who were suspected of engaging in witchcraft faced a grim trial at this very pond…

It is said that real witches can’t drown and so they were strapped into a seat on the end of a long plank of wood and submerged in the water to see if they’d sink or swim.

But instead of being allowed to celebrate their apparent invincibility, the women that survived the dunkings were burned at the stake for being witches.

So it wasn’t a great day for them either way really was it?

Now come on, how is that not interesting (if not a little exaggerated)?!

Nothing was going to dampen my spirits today though and I had a secret weapon up my sleeve that I just knew would work – Pooh Sticks! I defy anyone not to cheer up after a few goes of hunting down a suitable stick, hanging over the bridge, throwing your stick in and racing to the other side to see whose stick comes out first! I’ve played this since I was a kid and it never fails to entertain.

Unless your opponent chooses something like this as their weapon of mass destruction of course:

Snake-headed stick

And just as our sticks floated away down the river without a care in the world, something marvellous happened – Molly’s mood also disappeared. We then spent a lovely couple of hours walking through the park, chatting, scoffing ice-cream and admiring the baby deer.

Now I’m no expert in this parenting lark but I don’t think there’s too much bothering a soon-to-be twelve year old, that can’t be solved by a bit of time outdoors and the promise of their favourite ice-cream!