Take me back to the misty clifftop dotted with bobbing pink blooms, where the wind whipped my face with salt, and the waves crashed down against the jagged rocks below.
In our kitchen, we have an oval Victorian drop-leaf table. It has been in the family since my father-in-law was a child, if not before, and it has seen a lot of action, and a number of homes over the years. It is definitely past its best, marked by mug stains, felt pen marks, fading
‘We need the tonic of wildness’ – Thoreau. Sometimes, when you just need to get away, the siren song of the sea calls to you, and the soft greens of the countryside beckon. This weekend, we left work, school and worries behind us and ran away to Ceredigion to stay in Owl Lodge at Sloeberry
I spent my early years on the edge of Dartmoor’s wilderness: the high, desolate moor, in summer dressed with a trimming of golden coconut-scented gorse. A ruined castle was my playground, ice-cold streams my paddling pool. As a small child I ran through steep woodland where the ancient hollow trees housed -I felt quite sure