We went for a walk in the Wyre Forest on Saturday afternoon. Himself noticed that they’d cut a fair few trees down and pointed out that one was just the right thickness for youngest to make a bow with.

With everything that’s been going on I haven’t mentioned that one. Youngest now thinks he’s the village’s equivalent to Robin Hood. He’s been trying to make his own long bow. Two failed attempts so far. It’s all the fault of Pete and his Woodcraft Talks that youngest has been going along to – Pete’s the sort of person you'd want to be around if you ever got marooned on a desert island . He could build you a two story house just using a piece of string, some branches and a pocket knife. It would come fully furnished as well. He’s given son ideas.

But I digress; Himself was under the impressed that we could take half a tree home with us. And who was going to drag said tree the two miles back to the car? Well not me for a start off. And what the hell would you say if you met someone on the way back? I’m just taking my tree for a walk, the fresh air will do it good? I think not. The tree stayed put. As it is, son keeps taking a walk across the common and thinning the copse out.

So we carried on and because it had been so wet lately the streams where higher than normal and bits of broken off branches had fallen into them. This didn’t stop Billy deciding on a paddle. He’s a funny dog; he won’t go out of his depth and certainly won’t swim but if he hears the sound of water flowing he makes a bee line for it. He got in and walked around as per usual; splash, splash.

I look a few photos and watch him walk along the stream towards the part that goes into a small tunnel that runs under the road. The penny dropped a second too late, for both me and Himself. Himself tried to reach down and grab the dog just as I screamed his name. We shouldn’t have bothered. Splash, splash, splash – Billy walks into the tunnel.

Oh my God, he was either going to get stuck or drown. Himself doesn’t panic like me - he just told me to listen. Yes, you could hear the splashes as he carried on walking, right the way though the tunnel which was about twenty yards long and out the other side. He’d have carried on walking to, if I hadn’t told him to get out.

++++

Yesterday we visited Broadfield House Glass Museum. One of the things with depression is that you stop going out – just leaving the house is a major issue. I made the decision when I got better that I would get out of the house at least once over the weekend, even when I didn't feel like it. I'd still make myself go somewhere even if it was just an hour. With Himself’s broken shoulder and the pittance that is Sick Pay this hasn't been the easiest thing to keep up.

I needed to find some very cheap places to visit. And it doesn’t come any cheaper than Free Admission. If you look around there are a fair few places that don’t charge – certainly in the Black Country. Not so much in Worcestershire, tight sods - but then Black Country people are renown for their generosity.

The Glass Museum is well worth a visit and I enjoyed a couple of hours marvelling the displays. Not Himself's cup of tea to be honest but he likes to see me happy. Or at least he pretends to.

And they support local artists too - if you can afford to buy that is.