So Boy, Girl and I headed out to North Oxford today, ostensibly so The Boy could have a taster session of ‘Hockeytots’ – a hockey course for two to four year olds run by the Oxford Hawks hockey team (honestly, arming three year olds, who thought that was a good idea? Oh yes. Me. Doh). He actually loved it and did rather well – it channelled his aggression in a productive manner and he could practice his listening and following-instruction skills. Turns out he’s a bit of a demon at thwacking a ball with a hockey stick and his competitive spirit is burning strongly, so we may head back for another go at that.
The clumps are something of a local legend. Whenever the sun is out, whenever someone wants to run the steam out of a hyper child, or walk a dog, or show visiting family the sights of the area then it is recommended they visit the clumps.
Previously known by such suggestive names such as Mother Dunch’s Buttocks or the Berkshire Bubs the (now much more boringly titled) Wittenham Clumps are two hills, crested with woodlands and surrounded by fields and more woodland and cared for by the Earth Trust. From the top you can see across half of Oxfordshire, from the Benson weir to the Didcot cooling towers, Dorchester Abbey to Culham fusion reactor.