feathered fiends

Off north for a few days of R&R with my parents to the woodland prison camp otherwise known as Centre Parcs. The guards are brutal: non-stop surveillance and they're not exactly subtle about it either. Peering in through the windows and following you around. 

If you've even been you'll know the drill: eating, swimming, eating, some other activity (possibly swimming), eating, fall asleep. 

The north*: it was cold and we spotted vast open stretches of ground without buildings on it. What's that all about then? 

The children are discovering that there are vast tracts of the UK that they know nothing about; we passed a village with a maypole today and they were genuinely amazed that such a thing really existed. More starting from here.

* not really; we only went as far as Sherwood Forest.