Saturday, 6 September 2008

Grit may be in a field near you

I should title this blog Things to do in English Fields, because that is how I spend my time. In fields, doing things. Those things can be pretty hard to describe sometimes, because they do not seem that normal, even to me, and believe me when I say that I have had to accept quite a few non-normal things these past few years.

There would have been one time, probably five or four years ago, when I would have gone out into that field with Shark, Squirrel and Tiger squabbling behind me, and wept, silently. Like, for pity's sake, what am I doing here in this wilderness? I am watching a grown man make a noise like a pee-wit, or an otherwise sensible woman declare that now she is chasing a bear and can we all join in? In time I too had to take my turn and pretend great fun on a shaking bicycle round grey Kielder Water, breaking out into a cold sweat, losing all hope, three kids streaming, screaming behind, in the middle of nowhere singing with rising blind panic incy wincy spider like the repetition might ward off all the disaster the devil could muster, when really by then all I wanted to do was sink to the ground, give in, and kill myself to get it over and done with, instead of slow grieving death forced by minutes in every hour.

Then came a time of resignation, like this is how life is. And I am powerless to change much, for better or worse, so I'd better make the best of it. Anyway I have considered that killing myself is probably going to hurt and by now I would worry what would happen to Shark, Squirrel and Tiger, so I had better squeeze on those wellington boots and bloody well enjoy those fields. Even the muddy ones.



Now I actually welcome this life, my days spent in fields, under the guise of home education, doing things, even those bizarre things to which I have to say, erm, you had to be there. And Shark, Squirrel and Tiger are now sometimes jolly companions and throw me remarks like 'I am not sewing up another buzzy cover for anyone' when taken into the middle of a field and told it is their turn to make a bra for a fish. What's that Shark? Do you want willow or hazel?

Well today is one of those days when we find an English field. And we do bizarre things in it. And I have a splendid time. And I may just have to say, erm, to get this, you had to be there.



The British Lumberjack Sports Association.


Basket weaving is very relaxing.


Sculpting with chainsaw.


Learning how to use fire sticks.


Finding out how to slice wood.


Of course we do these things dressed like pink princesses.


And we can always look forward to the drive home.



5 comments:

Kelly Jene said...

Looks messy and fun!

Michelle said...

It does look fun. We desperately wanted to go but we had too many parties to go to and couldn't fit it in. We wanted to go more for the music lineup but the other stuff sounded great too.

Maybe next year . . .

Kitty said...

Cor ... look at those lovely big lumberjacks ;-) No wonder you had fun. x

sharon said...

Back on familiar territory then Grit! A field is a wonderful thing indeed. And, as Kitty noticed, lumberjacks too. Methinks you would love living Downunder, plenty of open spaces and generally not so much rain and cold. Although the lack of recorded ancient history would probably be a drawback for you. I know for myself that the occasional visit to a Stately Home is a slightly wistful thought but we do have other attractions. We went to the Treetop Walk in Walpole (a 2 hour drive south of where we live) whilst our guests were here. Wow! 40 metres up in the treetops and still the trees were taller. At ground level there were living trees that we could walk through as the lower trunks had been damaged by fire and/or fungal attack but still they carried on growing. Truly amazing. The Gritlets would have been in their element - and not a dog to be seen either.

Grit said...

hi folks! i truly enjoyed this day, which shows how far gone i now am.

you have identified my dilemma bang on, Sharon, because although we have talked of relocating, i am afraid Aus does not have a field that has been crossed by the horse hooves that carried Richard II as he fled the advance of Henry IV.

you do however have some very fine rainforests. and glow worms. fish. beaches. parks. lifestyle. wine. weather.

ok i'll get my bags.