Sunday, 20 September 2009

What else can we do on a Sunday?

Let's go out for the day!

Off we trot to Ashridge woods, those high quality, beech-based type woods outside Berkhamsted.

These woods have deer. In October the deer go rutting. Apparently it becomes exciting. We may return, with lace curtains and binoculars. In that unique way we have in the home education world, of making an education emerge out of not much, we may tick rutting deer, and the ongoing discussions we are having about drugs and binge drinking, as primary years pshe*.

Anyway, this Sunday we are heading to the Country Fair! Come with us for a lovely photo journey!

First stop, morris dancers. Morris dancers are the new black. I hope you'll all be watching. These are the sorts of specialist-interest enthusiasts who inhabit my world. Be kind to them and love them. I do.


Hungry, girls? We're with the locals in the English countryside now, you know.


Grit has to be dragged away from joining the hedge laying society. You may think the grit type people of this world are marginal eccentrics floating around on the fringe boundaries, in fields and outhouses, but really, we are crucial to the well running of society.

Oh go on then, we're not, but we've got to inhabit some place until we drop down dead.


But then Grit sees this! This! Here!


Isn't that the best thing you ever saw in your life? Grit resolves she must have one of these. It would make her life complete. She confesses to this peculiar streak ever since this day over here.

The only problem is, getting it back to the car. Big, isn't it? And do not be distracted by the glamorous and fulsome Grit bosom, even though it looks sadly estranged from its twin sister over the other side of the sling.


I make Shark carry the cross.


I keep making the same joke hahahaha about everyone having a cross to bear. I am finding it hilarious since we have been wandering about woodland tracks for 40 minutes and I am sure the car was only ten minutes away when I parked. That feels very much like a cross to bear, carrying a giant bird box through Ashridge woods secretly wishing I'd taken the road route like everyone else.

On the fourth time I say everyone has a cross to bear Shark says she's had enough and she's not carrying it anymore.

I make Squirrel have a go.


It takes only another 45 minutes to find the car, fall into a ditch, and end up carrying both the bird box and the cross because now no-one will carry the ruddy thing.

But happy we go home, for today we have seen fields, woods, eccentrics, and bought a bird box that looks like a converted schoolhouse.

And that, people, is our Sunday out. Fun, eh?

Well, it was either that, or stay at home and binge drink.


* Personal, Social and Health Education, for the happily ignorant.

4 comments:

The Green Stone Woman said...

Just what sort of birds are supposed to live in that house? Is it for wood pigeons? It seems awfully big for sparrows or robins. One of the girls didn't carry her cross. I forget which one. Oh yes, Tiger! She must have been redeemed then. You must dig a big hole for it, but I'm sure you're up to it. Good luck!

Mud in the City said...

Maybe that's what I need to distract me from my current binge drinking then?

Mind you, how long would it last before being inhabited by feral Chelsea supporters?

Grit said...

hi nora, i think if any, sparrows, possibly, because they are more communal? i doubt any bird will nest in it. i confess i have bought it for the glamour. we'll hang nuts and food from it, and see what happens.

good grief mud, i hadn't thought of that. do they become feral?

Maire said...

That is gorgeous, envious!