Today, we took Darling Son and Darling Daughter (now known, always, as DS and DD) to a soft play area in Stroud called Go Bananas. It was a lovely, sunny, crisp autumn day today, so going to a subterranean, piss smelling kid-pit felt a little bit of a shame…but it was a friend’s, daughter’s birthday so we had to go – and besides, DS loves chucking himself about in soft play.
DS was a bit hesitant at first (no such fear with DD, who’d chuck herself off Beachy Head for a rice cake…)but he eventually got into it. But Jeeee-sus, lugging my frame up and down the parabolic twists and turns of this lunatic’s playground practically did me in. Plus- plus! – the bloody wood man turned up and dumped 1/2 a ton of wood on our drive this morning and because we don’t don’t own a wheelbarrow (because, like, why the hell would I want one?) I had to lug the logs into the house in a recycling box like a demented sherpa.
We eventually had to bail because the kids were so whacked that they were randomly lashing out at anyone within swiping distance and growling ominously. Winding our way up through Rodborough Common, shafts of sunlight created by the trees lighting our way, we rumbled over cattle grids and drove through Minchinhampton Common. This is common land, like proper – not the needle strewn cottaging arenas you get in London – so if you own some cows and have nowhere to graze them, you can take them here.
Just a quick aside here: why the fuck would you buy a herd of cows if you didn’t have a farm? Why? That’s just bloody barmy. I can understand buying a cow (as if) and then suddenly it gets a bit big for the back garden so you need some extra grazing – but, a herd?
The drive back was beautiful and it’s days like this that I do wonder if we should stay here. But it’s not properly winter yet.