Child's Play

Yesterday we toddled off to Windsor Great Park to meet up with some good friends that we don't see very often as they live over that side of England and we live over this side of England. Windsor Great Park is roughly betwixt and between our respective residencies and as none of us has been there before, it seemed a good place to go.

Andy and I arrived first. The only traffic jams we encountered were 1) in a petrol station and 2) at the entrance of the Black Nest car park where the car in front of us hesitated at the barrier because it had two bicycles strapped to its roof.

'They won't get under the barrier with those bikes on their roof,' I said.
'No, they won't,' said Andy.

The female passenger in the car got out and assessed the bicycle/ barrier clearance potential. She shook her head at her male companion who was driving. But he seemed determined to give it a go, so fed £2.50 into the meter and charged at the barrier.

Of course, men usually have to discover things for themselves before they realise that their female partners are actually right about something, so on discovering that his car plus 2 bicycles on the roof would not indeed fit 'neath the barrier, he had to reverse, get out of the car, remove the bicycles and place them over the car park fence into the car park, then put another £2.50 into the meter before this time gaining successful access through the barrier. We were most admiring of his lady companion that she remained calm in the face of his distrust and dismissing of her original assessment. Still, plenty of woodland in which to bury a body later, when it was dark...

Andy and I played frisbee whilst waiting for our friends to arrive. It brought back memories of playing frisbee at our wedding. We had a frantic call from our friends when they tried to park in the Guard's Polo Club a stone's throw up the road and an officious parking attendant had tried to charge them £20 for the privilege. £20???!!!!!!! How the other half live, eh?

We set off through the park, armed with picnic hampers and kites and blankets and our friends' small daughter who is called Taryn. Taryn is nearly four years old and is probably the most intelligent and verbally accomplished nearly 4 year old I've ever come across. We set about collecting forest treasures, using the inverted frisbee as a collection plate. We gathered acorns and beech nuts, moss and bark, leaves in various states of autumnal colour, sycamore keys, pine cones, an assortment of tiny yellow flowers and tiny purple flowers and then Taryn's mum trumped us all by discovering the skull of a rabbit. In its skeletal form, I hasten to add; we didn't lug a decapitated bunny head around with us on a frisbee for the rest of the day.

We explored trees looking for fairies and overgrown woodland for Herne the Hunter who is supposed to haunt the woodland here and then we found a nice spot for our picnic.

After picnicking, Taryn and I left the grown ups to talk and went for a mini-explore up a hill and around a corner. We found a bench made from a tree trunk and I showed Taryn how to count the rings of bark to determine the age of the tree.
'Let's go and tell Mummy, Daddy and Uncle Andy about the tree bench,' I said.
'We could shout for them to come and look at it,' said Taryn.
'I think it would be better if we went to fetch them,' I said.
'Why?' said Taryn.
'Because it would be nicer to go and tell them rather than yell at them down the hill,' I said.
'Why?' said Taryn.
'It's better manners,' I said. 'Shouting in public is common.'
'I'd rather shout,' said Taryn.
'Well, I think we should go and find them,' I persisted.
'Okay,' said Taryn. 'I'll stay here.'
'No, you have to come with me,' I said.
'Why?' said Taryn.
'Because Mummy and Daddy will be cross with me if I leave you on your own,' I said.
'But what if someone else sits on our bench?' said Taryn.
'They won't,' I said.
'Why?' said Taryn.

I had forgotten the 'why' phase of growing up. Still, it's good to have an inquisitive mind.

We set off back down the hill.

'MUMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYY, DADDDDDDDDYYYYYYYYYY, UNCLE ANDDDYYYYYYYY,' Taryn yelled as she bowled down the hill full tilt. 'WE'VEFOUNDABENCHMADEOUTOFOTREETRUCKCOMEANDSEEITNOW!!!'

So the picnic was packed away, and we trooped back up the hill with assorted hampers, kites, rugs and a frisbee full of forest treasures and a rabbit skull. Taryn had maintained her hold on the collection of acorns and beech nuts we had gathered clearly not trusting them to my frisbee plate. As we climbed the hill, Taryn sang, 'The Grand Old Duke of York' to us. As we reached the bench, Andy requested she sing 'Pop Goes the Weasel.'
'I don't know that one,' said Taryn, climbing onto the bench and placing her handful of acorns and beech nuts carefully at her side.
'I'll teach you,' said Andy, sitting beside her.

And he began to sing.

'Half a pound of tuppenny rice, half a pound of treacle.
That's the way the money goes,
'POP! Goes the weasel.'

Taryn fixed him with a steely glare.

'You're sitting on my nuts,' she said.