By: Blonde Two

I have to confess to coming from a long line of bossy (I prefer to call it authoritative) women.  Until I had my boys, we didn’t have many chaps in the family and with households full of, shall we say strong, female characters, family get togethers could often be a test of wills.  To imagine this female phenomena, think Jane Eyre with a Boudicca  forcemeat (what a lovely word) and a generous Hermione Granger jus.

The more generous amongst you are now hopefully thinking that you would have to have a certain degree of determination (that is what you call it in adults) or stubbornness (that is what you call it in the under 25s and the over 75s) in order to persuade groups of youngsters that they want to trog miles and miles over Dartmoor’s hills and bogs. Some others of you are probably recoiling at memories of “strong women I have known”.  I have no problem, these days, admitting to my bossy side.  We Two Blondes are proving ourselves to be pretty determined (and probably quite annoying) about all things ‘outdoor education’ at the moment and I make no apologies for that.  We are, of course, always right!

Six-Foot-Blond is home from Yorkshire for Christmas.  It is great to see him (and his walking boots) despite the fact that he does fill the house somewhat with his giantness. When we went up to visit him earlier in the year, he (being as determined as any woman that I have ever met) presented us with a set of house rules when we arrived. This, I have no doubt was a direct rebellion against years of (I admit sometimes irrational) rules from me – yes, ok, settees are for sitting on after all!  That was fine, we agreed – his house, his rules.  However now he has taken things a bit too far and upon arrival, sat down in the lounge and presented even more rules – for MY house!  Even worse than that (secretly proud of this one), when I was off out with Blonde One the other day, he inspected my outfit, insisted that I wore another layer, criticised the state of my boots and asked to see my survival bag.

Blonde One knows Six-Foot-Blond well.  It was she who sealed his love for Dartmoor during Ten Tors training sessions some years ago when his name was still Five-Foot-Blond.