I found an old box of my childhood treasures the other day. Baa Baa the sheep, my gem collection and a tower of well thumbed Enid Blyton books. Fondly I recall memories of burnished halls and thatched barns. Of plum cakes, brown bread and butter, and treacle. Such beautifully descriptive texts telling tales of simple days; simple lives.
And so I created a new (and already much loved) ritual with Bijou. Each night after our family story time we tuck Remy into bed and I snuggle under the covers with my girl and read to her. We wander under cherry trees in full blossom,wipe eggs clean for market and we crank heavy wooden butter churns and marvel at the resulting pale yellow.
Housework and sibling squabbles are forgotten as she and I walk hand in hand into a world of innocence, gentleness and simplicity.A world that I know so well but one I am delighted to be exploring again with my wide eyed girl. By lamp light, tucked under woollen blankets we quietly walk together; just my honey girl, Enid and me.
Steph x