 ON one of the hottest days of the year and after three hours shopping in Chester, there was no way I was going to cook Sunday lunch without a fight. As my 13-year-old daughter and I shoved bags into the back of the car, I pointed towards the Grosvenor Bridge and requested her best 'get-round-dad-voice' and a pub with a nice garden, please. Husband, P, drove off with the windows down and Gorillaz on the CD player. 'Do we really have to listen to that again?' I asked petulantly, as our nine-year-old fast forwarded to 'Feel Good'. I didn't feel good, I was hot, tired and I couldn't remember where the Pant yr Ochain was. But after following the Old Wrexham Road, as a helpful stranger instructed, we were soon driving into the car park of this attractive ex-manor house and watching, fascinated, as a mini steam train gave rides to excited children plus one or two very happy adults. What a lovely touch. It was four o'clock, so with any luck, we'd arrive in the lull before the evening rush and have our pick of the tables. Except that it was such a beautiful day and the setting so attractive, no one had left. Most of the tables were still occupied by families enjoying themselves. I felt myself getting cross again. 'What is this, a children's birthday party?' I asked loudly. My daughter took hold of my arm and led me purposefully to a table in the shade. The number of under fives outnumbered the over 35s by about five to one. They were all running around like manic members of the Foreign Legion, their sun hats flapping as their chubby legs pumped up and down. 'C'mon Daddy,' said one two-year-old. 'Don't you want something to eat first?' his dad asked weakly, one eye on his pint. But this little soldier was off his chair and joining in the mêlée before you could say 'bury me in sand'. It's hard to remain stern in the face of such cuteness, but somehow I managed it. Our nine-year-old, however, thought it was great. He ran off to the climbing frame, hidden in the trees, with a small platoon following in his wake. And then a 'proper' table came free on the terrace and I was led there like a dowager aunt, a glass of cold white Zinfandel placed in front of me and a menu put in my hand. | 
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