We packed sandwiches (jam and cheese and cucumber) and as I haven't been baking much recently whilst dieting, I popped into Lidl and bought a doughnut for Oliver and a cookie for Rosie and Quavers for us all.
We finished our business in Headingley so it was only a mile or two's drive further up Otley Road to Breary Marsh, a small nature reserve opposite Golden Acre Park
It was about half past two by then and unusually for him, Oliver was showing signs of being tired and asking to be carried, we diverted him with fallen tree trunks and horses hoof prints and explanations of why a stream only flows in one direction but it was hard work and a relief when we reached the focus of our walk Paul's Pond, a small, tranquil and unexpected lake complete with coots and water lilies.
Oliver and I sat on a fallen tree trunk and ate sandwiches whilst Rosie scouted for a better spot.
All she could suggest was that we sat in the sun on the wall by the edge of the lake, so we moved there, Oliver cautiously sitting close to me. Unfortunately, as Rosie swung her long legs over the wall, she caught the edge of Oliver's half eaten doughnut and sent it into the lake.
Now if you coax a tired and grumpy toddler to walk with the promise that at the end of it there will be a doughnut with pink and white icing on top and then part said toddler from said doughnut, the outcome is not good. The lake was no longer tranquil, the coots scooted. All offers of replacement food were rejected, at least, he accepted part of Rosie's cookie but his heart wasn't in it, he put it to his lips but doughnut mourning tears were still falling.
We gave in and set off home. Oliver cheered up with the promise of an ice cream from the van in the car park, set off at a good pace and promptly tripped over a tree root, fell full length and cut his knee. More tears. I scooped him up and carried him away, realising as I did, that he must have wet himself as he was now transferring a damp patch to my t shirt. He was persuaded to walk again, by more talk of ice cream, and then I found one perfect raspberry growing wild which I offered him. He likes raspberries and took it appreciatively and promptly dropped it. Oh dear. Rosie hunted desperately for any more whilst I looked for the water bottle to wash off the dust.
The promised ice cream seemed to be getting bigger and bigger as we increased the bribe but it seems to have done the trick.
Finally we reached the car park and the ice cream van nirvana but the day of disasters was not done yet. I ordered a cone each for me and Rosie and was asking Oliver what he would like, when I realised that the twenty pound note I had got out of the bank in the morning, was still sitting in the pocket of the paint splattered jeans I had changed out of. The ice cream man was very nice about it and said to bring him the money later, I gave my ice cream to Oliver and we set off and drove to Otley, found a cash machine, got the money out, returned to Breary Marsh, paid the ice cream man, drove home. Oliver fell asleep in the car.
This was intended to be a tale about having fun with children whilst introducing them to nature and not spending much, instead it is best summed up as aaaaaagh!
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