Saturday, 22 October 2016

Noodles

Grass Woods  is a place my parents would often take us when we were little. We have lots of lovely black and white photos of us as babies and toddlers, laid on blankets and inspecting plants. It is the scene of the place where, supposedly, I pushed copious daisies up my nose and was sneezing them out for days. 


In the summer its tranquil, dappled light shines on rare and secret wild flowers. In the autumn the changing leaves add to the evocative swimming surroundings. 

Unfortunately today the atmosphere was far from tranquil as we took five children who whined and whinged, fell out, complained of feeling sick after eating too many blackberries, argued over hot chocolate and generally drove the zen of the moment above the trees. 

My dad recommended it as a potential swimming spot but today it was slightly too shallow. And the noodles congealed in the flask. 


Not that I would really dare to complain about the opportunity of being there and swimming there. With my lovely sister. Treasured moments. 

Maybe pot noodles are the way forward. 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 

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