Father and daughter time

Spending quality time with your kids is not always prioritised in this fast paced and frenetic world. However, a recent cheesecake picnic with my beautiful daughter reminded me of the value of moments, and the importance of sometimes making time just stand still.

The current Coronavirus lock-down situation has undoubtedly had many negative consequences. However, dare I say it, there have also been some positives and one such positive for me has been the increased amount of time I have spent with my kids. As a family, we have always made time for each other, but those special moments when it is just me and them, with no agenda, no purpose, no rush, no distraction, no ticking clock are in reality few and far between. This may not be so much of a problem, had it not been for the rapid speed at which their childhood passes, and the fact those precious opportunities are easily lost forever. A recent hill walk with my daughter reminded me why it is so important to sometimes stop that clock and spend some time in a moment. Opposite the Smithy sits a commanding 400 feet hill that the kids have named “Goblin Mountain”. At the very top, there is a prominent ridge, where the trees suddenly make way to a grass clearing in an almost deliberate invitation from nature to ascend with a picnic. We regularly gaze up at this hill, as it defines our immediate landscape, and Josselin has asked on a few occasions whether we could climb this “mountain” and sit together at the top - just me and her. This idea then developed, in typical Josselin style, and now involved a large bowl of cheesecake and a bottle of fresh orange (with juicy bits). So, the other day we set off on our ascent armed with a rucksack full of the finest cheesecake money can buy, two plastic plates, two spoons and two bottles of fresh orange.

We were treated to another fine spring morning with clear skies and a light fresh wind, and it felt liberating to have the company and attention of just one child. Hand in hand we trotted down the farm track discussing the natural wonders as they passed us by. The walk follows a similar route to that covered in the joy of maps, but departs from the ordnance survey defined footpath at the foot of the hill, shortly after the first farmers gate. At this point it becomes a case of finding your own way through the thick bracken and ancient woodland, whilst trying to keep to the ridge of the hill which, at least from the ground, looks like such an obvious trail. Although a steep incline, and occasionally a bit hairy, Josselin soldiered on with a calm determination I had not really seen in her before. We helped each other up, holding hands tightly as we mutually agreed the route ahead. We passed badger sets, fox dens and sheep skulls, and even saw the fleeting glimmer of a dear. As the wind picked up and the temperature dropped it was reassuring to reach the first clearing, which from the ground looked like it was about halfway up. Relieved to be going in the right direction, we took a short time out to survey the views and take some pictures, before continuing onward with the prospect of cheesecake keeping us energised.

Eventually, after around an hour since setting out, we finally reached our destination - and it did not disappoint. the summit of Goblin Mountain turned out to be a dramatic basin of jagged rocks, contorted heather and fine silky grass, with panoramic views in all directions. To the north west, we could clearly make out the familiar silhouette of mount Snowden, and from here we could roughly orient ourselves to the directions of the Midlands, the Welsh coast and London. Down below, it was fascinating to pick out the tiny toy like Smithy amidst the expanse of the Smithy field, and to identify all the nooks and crannies we had now become so accustomed too.

Checking my phone, I could see it had picked up a reception, so called down to Sarah to see if she could see us. It was a strange experience, as we had looked up at this hill so many times and envisaged ourselves waving back from the summit. On receiving the call, Sarah, the boys and pepper came rushing out with excitement to see us waving frantically like two crazed ants on top of a ginormous anthill. Finally, after all the drama, we were able to sit down and tuck into our cheesecake, amazed to see that our resident and ever playful House Martins had ventured up to join us.

The descent was a bit tricky, owing mainly to the fact I got us lost, but eventually we arrived back at the Smithy exhausted but exhilarated. What a precious morning, what a moment, and what a lucky dad. Now, every time we look up at Goblin Mountain, we think – we had cheesecake up there!