Some time in the future, when three-year-old Sandy is old and nostalgic and Farmer Duncan is chugging his tractor across the sky and baby Duncan, Sandy's wee brother, is telling his grandchildren bedtime tales, those pictures of Sandy at Rawcliffe House Farm in 2009, in seventh heaven grasping the steering wheel of a tractor while crossing the yard, will still be around to prove that dreams indeed come true.
A farm-stay holiday, bringing together three generations beneath one roof, turned out for everyone concerned - not least the goats and ducks and hens who were there to greet us - to be a hit. We travelled from Ireland; our daughter, Kathy, and son-in-law, Paul, along with the kids, motored south from the Highlands. Yorkshire seemed the ideal meeting point, and the farm, just north of Pickering, with its easy to reach attractions, the perfect choice.
Both Farmer Duncan and Jan, his wife (sunny-side up and the prefect hosts), had everything ship shape - including provisions stocked in the fridge, freshly-laid eggs and a bottle of wine to kickstart proceedings.
Giltspur Cottage, one of several on the farm, had once been a hay barn. Its three snug bedrooms (one en suite), with an upstairs bathroom, and a large lounge/dining room, enhanced by broad French windows overlooking a swathe of grass with swings and a slide, was all we had hoped for. The late-night sunsets were a bonus. And Sandy and Duncan, well fed and exhausted, slept like tops from the very first night.
All this, plus fresh air with loads of space to burn off energy, and a picnic table and chairs for sunny-day lunches for the grown-ups, would by themselves have been enough to ensure satisfaction.
But there were extras, such as trails marked around the farm, a scenic viewpoint on the western facing slopes and, each evening, as an amusement, a wandering cabaret in the form of Gerry the cockerel (named after Gerry in The Good Life), with his brood of 29 females, to keep us amused. No wonder we never heard Gerry crow - he was too exhausted, too bedraggled, his feathers disgracefully awry. Did he ever sleep?
When the children woke, we hit the road. Duncan and Jan had provided a portfolio crammed with maps and suggested drives past local beauty spots, with principal points of interest, historic landmarks and thirst-quenching pubs picked out to guide us through the beautiful heather-swept moors and dales.
But pubs and monuments and the lesser-spotted thistle-wort, don't quite cut it on a three-year-old's holiday hit list. So, after his warm up in Pickering's play park, (while mum and granny hit the bakery and the deli to grab a basketful of cheeses, cooked meats and bread for lunch), it was off to Flamingoland - known as Mingoland hereafter - for Sandy's big fix.
By the end of six hours and countless rides (all-inclusive in the admission price) we were wiped - except for Sandy, who made the national grid look as feeble as a glow-worm. Two days later he and his dad made a second raid on Mingoland's goodies - the Muddy Duck Farm, the Zoo, the Lost Kingdom, taking it gently on the Helitoys, the Swan Ride, grabbing a bite in the Muddy Duck Cafe.
Meanwhile, the rest of us, following Jan and Duncan's trail guide, headed for glorious, gothic Whitby where the abbey loomed like a mouthful of jagged teeth above the harbour. Kathy sprinted up the 199 steps while I went for takeaway fish and chips.
Whitby's seagulls paraded hopefully at our feet as Kathy restored her quota of calories. The seagulls honked as I greedily guzzled the fish. They needn't have bothered. We all but ate the cardboard containers.
Whitby does boat trips, tours of the abbey and worships Dracula as an add-on. We found a shop that sold sweetie coffins and, not far away, a beckoning Dracula museum. Baby Duncan, I thought, would look irresistibly scary wearing a set of plastic fangs, but granny and mum vetoed my plans.
All around us we smelled the fishiness, the seaweed, the fabulous summer aroma of holidays, the exhaust fumes from open-topped buses. I made a beeline for the shop that sold pork scratchings and overindulged. Then it was back across the high heather, a blazing swathe of intense magenta, on through Goathland where they make Heartbeat, and into pretty Egton Bridge "When we going to Mingoland?" said Sandy as soon as we met him back at the farm. "You've just been to Mingoland," I told him. "Mingoland's closed." He looked so dejected we took him to Scarborough next day where they had a wee train and an aquarium called Sea Life. Sandy rode the train in majesty, curving the bay above the beach. Then he got off and headed to Sea Life where they shelter endangered species such as fresh-water turtles and aged granddads. The place was so crowded people were doing convincing impersonations of sardines. We didn't linger.
What to do next was never a question we couldn't answer. This coastal hinterland is rich in diverse distractions: Robin Hood's Bay, a chocolate-box village; Filey beach, a sparkling location for buckets and spades; Castle Howard, a stately home; and Eden Camp, a history theme museum. Close to Rawcliffe ran the pang of pure nostalgia that is the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. We could hear the distant wheezing of the engines from the farm. And then, as we listened, we heard something else: he purr of the tractor.
Cue Farmer Duncan, come to take Sandy collecting eggs, lugging a bucket of grain for the ducks, watched over by Gerry and his girls. Perched on Farmer Duncan's tractor, gripping the wheel with fierce concentration, Sandy took charge. They chugged past the water trough, rounded the swings and approached the trees, then mounted the ever so gentle slope. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, I thought, as Sandy gave us a wave, and boldly went higher, to where he had never gone before, to a place of dreams.
Send us a postcard, I thought as the tractor disappeared. I knew, of course, he never would.
Need to know Where to stay: Rawcliffe House Farm offers B&B as well as self-catering. From £200 per week per cottage, or £30 per night per person B&B. Go to www.rawcliffehousefarm.co.uk or call 01751 473292. Check out other farm-stay holidays on farms across the UK at www.farmstayuk.co.uk Where to eat: The Magpie on Pier Road, Whitby, for excellent fish and chips. Takeaway fish suppers £5.40. The Postgate Inn at Egton Bridge. Local produce, good cooking, mains from £10. Go to www.postgateinn.com What to do: Visit Flamingo Land, just south of Pickering - adult £23, family (up to four people) £82. Children three and under go free. Go to www.flamingolandtickets.com.
Visit The Dracula Experience at Whitby. Go to www.draculaexperience.co.uk. Take a steam train on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway from Pickering to Whitby return.
Go to www.nymr.co.uk.
