Getting bruised in Devon

With the best of intentions I organised this PGL adventure. I could still pretend that it was for my child more than myself. All that childish stuff of climbing walls, throwing yourself off rocks, competing to the top of Jacob’s ladder against fifteen-year old boys and their alpha-male dads  – all that would be just perfect for Daughter and Daughter’s Friend. Whilst this year the girls are just into face-painting, next year next year they will be into make-up, Prada handbags and designer shoes (oh dear! there go my life savings!). It was our last chance to do the  child-friendly thing.

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It may have been child-friendly but, by Gods, it was far from a woman of a certain age-friendly! I suffered from general exhaustion, pulled muscles, bruises and torn ligaments. On top of that some viral infection took hold of me and shook me like a pitbull terrier shaking a rag doll.

Back home, I’m licking my wounds and promising myself to go on a Mediterranean cruise next year.

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