A matter of Trust

We are holed up at a quite stunning National Trust cottage in Pembrokeshire. I think the NT is one of our greatest social enterprises, preserving the National heritage and allowing ordinary folk like us access to some of the UKs most magical places. Next time I see Dame Fiona Reynolds I'll ask her to join the growing wave of social enterprise spokespeople. Its such a jewel.

The stunning view from our cottage

Its a jolly atmosphere today as Stella, the much loved hampster who had gone missing from home yesterday turned up this morning. Phew! Poor old Sarah, our au pair. She and I were in constant text conversation as she turned the house upside down, experiencing flashbacks of when her childhood chipmunk made a permanent bid for freedom. I told her Stella doesn't like the cold and the fat old thing could be tempted out with biscuits, as so it proved.

The calm and isolation of this stunning spot is only broken by the chaos of board games. Who knew that playing Monopoly was a blood sport? Well it is when played by adolescent males. In my day we didn't have rules like dancing for money, paying someone to name a side of the board after you, or placing one of the property deeds down the front of your pyjamas to put anyone else off from buying it. No I definitely think I would remembered that one.

Chris and I meet outside to take in the wonderful view and console ourselves that its just a phase. Still, the children aren't the only ones who can innovate with the rules: my contribution on that front is that the winner has to do the washing up. Being a parent can have its compensations.