When I moved from London to darkest Dorset, my friends secretly pitied me. ‘Lucky you,’ they'd say wistfully. ‘We'd love to leave too, if only we could…’
They didn't mean it. They couldn't conceive of a worthwhile life over two hours away from town. When I told them that my children would be going to school on Saturdays, they pitied them too. Poor enslaved babies!
But the children went happily to enjoy things such as circus skills, cartoon drawing and chess. One club caught
