I grew up in a world of childhood innocence and freedom. My sister and I played and went where we wanted, without fear. Mum and Dad would often only see us at meal times, content in the knowledge that wed let them know if we needed them.

We explored the fields of gorse out the back of our house, trekked over the peat moss to the nearby ancient ruined village, charged from one end of our village to the other on bicycles and roller skates and spent our summers throwing ourselves off rocks and the village pier into the sea. I remember us deciding we'd be fine playing in the same field as the neighbouring farmer's bull, so long as he didn't come too near.

As a teenager wanting to travel beyond cycling distance I never bothered waiting on a bus - it was much easier to stick out my thumb and hitch.

This wasn't really that long ago - the seventies and eighties - but hasn't the world changed beyond recognition since then?

I'm a mother now to a two year old daughter. We spent the first five months of this year in a city. My husband and I, who are both country people, were appalled at the way we already saw ourselves wrapping our daughter in cotton wool. We watched her disappear into her shell and her development go backwards (in comparison to the country town where we had previously lived) as she learnt how to behave in a world where children can't leave their parents' side and speaking to strangers just doesn't happen.

The relief we felt as we drove 1300km away from the city, to my husband's new job in the small country town, population 2000, that we now love calling home, was due in a big part to the knowledge that we were taking our precious daughter to somewhere she could thrive, learn to smile and communicate with the rest of the human race and gain confidence to explore her world without her mother permanently attached to her hand.

Within hours of arriving we saw the difference in our daughter. Not only is it safe here for children to enjoy freedom, it is also fine and wonderful for adults to smile and talk to random children they meet. By the end of the first day our daughter was happily smiling and chatting to everyone within earshot.

If she runs into the next aisle of the supermarket I don't panic for her safety. Instead I catch up with her before she gets the chance to start emptying the shelves onto the floor.

When we go to the nearby play park it is such a delight to watch her run confidently in the opposite direction from us, befriending

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