This time last week I was limping towards the end of a very bad day on the parenting front-line. Effie had emptied an entire tub of glitter all over the living room floor, then trod it through the entire house. She’d done a wee on the sofa, smeared vaseline up the walls and had multiple threenager tantrums. We didn’t get along very well that day.
So, on Thursday, I decided we needed to draw a line under the preceding day and go on a bit of a trip. It was an exercise in Love Bombing, if you will. Anything to avoid another day that ended with us both in tears, anyway.
And that’s why, at 10.30am last Thursday morning I found myself on top of a very high hill, looking over some of the most beautiful landscape with my three year old. We were on our way to Becky Falls, an ancient woodland park hidden in the depths of Dartmoor.