Fathers and Daughters

It’s that time of year again when i get ready to drive to the New Forest to spend a weekend in the woods, playing games in the dark, telling stories round the fire, drinking a little Whisky, talking, whittling, dreaming, feeling, learning. This isn’t a sect, a cult, a weird weekend, a hippy happening. It the annual Dads and Daughters weekend that i’ve attended for ninr years now. Initially it was the Fathers and Sons weekends that i attended. But as my son grew older the organiser introduced a daughter’s weekend.

I’m lucky. I live in the middle of the National Forest. I have 100s of acres of woodland at the end of the garden. I can canoe, run and cycle and not see a road. It’s special. I have a big garden. I regularly have campfires, sitting up late putting the world to rights with mates, cooking breakfast on the embers. But the point of the Fathers and Daughters weekend is that i do these things with other Fathers and Daughters. This creates a shared experience that in turn creates friendships that will last a lifetime: for me and for my daughters.

So we sit round the fire talking.