Time to knit, time to sew and the sound of children's laughter. Crafting a family life.

Ever since BL read Milly-Molly-Mandy stories, she has loved thatched cottages. When we go on a car journey, she spots thatched cottages as we pass them. Gleefully. Imagine her joy when she discovered that we would be staying, on holiday, in a thatched cottage. She talked of little else.

On the way down, she went quiet for a while. A sure sign that she is thinking things through… or she has fallen asleep. Then out comes the question. She has obviously been mulling over thatch roofs on rainy days and now she is worried.  Will she get wet in bed if it rains at night?

I misunderstood her at first and thought she was remembering the M-M-M story (“Milly Molly Mandy helps to thatch a roof”) about the thatch being blown off the house. I assured her that it was not going to blow away during our visit.

It turns out that she saw the thatch as more decorative than a substitute for roof tiles. She could not see how it would protect us from the elements. She thought that we would be able to lie in bed, look up and see a thin layer of thatch, with the moonlight streaming through.

Imagine her relief when she realised that the thatch is thick and tightly packed. Plus there was a ceiling between us and the straw.

There are times I just plain forget. She is five. This is all new to her. Why would she know? It was her first time sleeping in a thatched cottage. Come to think about it,  I think it might have been mine too.

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The children went back to school today. The house was eerily quiet without them running around, acting out their latest story. I missed them, but I am also invigorated to get back to work.

We squeezed in a few days away, before term started,  in Mid Devon. We visited Exeter, where I went to university. I showed the children where I studied, where I lived…. and a few of the other places I frequented. They fained very little interest, so leaving educational inspiration for another day, we headed off to Dartmoor. I guess at 8, 5 and 3 years old, I was probably asking too much.

One interest we do share is the love of big open areas, especially if it involves climbing big rocks and walking through beautiful countryside. This Tor is a favourite of ours. It is called Hound Tor. Irresistible if you happen to have a dog, which is a deerhound, in the walking party.

There were lots of rocks to explore. There were times I wished I had the car keys in my pocket. We found our first letterboxing location.  How appropriate that it was on Dartmoor, where it is reported to have started.

I love the shapes of the rocks. Some (of the rocks) seem to have beautiful weathered faces.

Some appear to be petrified dragons, ready to be brought back to life by the mere wish of a pair of imaginative maidens.

There was the remains of a saxon village to explore.

There were walks through heather cladded hillsides. The noise of the honey bees visiting the flowers was like a constant hum. Every August and September, commercial honey companies bring their hives out to the moors and they are usually easy to spot. We saw none, although the honey bees were around. Recent fears of hives being stolen, may mean that the hives are better hidden. I miss seeing them.

More stones. I must be hungry, but these ones now look like a stack of scotch pancakes. The children and dog would still be out there, walking and climbing. They all grew in confidence and even Gwinny the dog took to climbing the rocks, far higher than I would recommend.

So, now we have returned home. It was a very welcome break, but I feel enthused and ready to tackle life again. Yes, I do have a little bit of lucky heather in my pocket. Not that I’m superstitious. Just a lovely reminder of a beautiful place.

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