Why should the kids have all the fun? (and a Trip to Thornton Hill Farm)
Today I took the kids to a local working farm and petting zoo kind of set up. Sis and my two nephews came too, so there were six of us. Before you groan and a ‘sponsored post’ alarm starts going off, let me reassure you I paid in full, and this was a random visit to try and occupy my minions over the two week holiday period. It was not a subsidized or fraternized or arranged visit in any way. I would have behaved better if it had been a sponsored post….but more of that later.
I paid £17 I think for the three of us (which included £1 for animal feed), and we were asked if we wanted to fork out extra money for a quick tractor ride trailer thing, or even more extra money for an off road field trek in a landrover type vehicle which we declined. I hate it when there’s hidden extras and refused on principle really.
The kids had a whale of a time feeding a huge beautiful, doe-eyed horse and a skittish load of apparently half mad goats. They always have a crazed look in their eye, maybe it’s the square pupils or something – that’s the goats, not the kids by the way.
Having said that, our little hoodlums went mad on the big slides. There’s two there, one tube slide and another bumpy hellslide affair where they have to sit in sacks and bump and slide their way down. They loved that, and I almost resisted the urge to stand at the bottom and try and catch my youngest as he hurtled down the slope, almost but not quite.
I’d commented whilst sat by the playground that kids seem to have all the fun. They were running up and down chasing each other, claiming bits of the park as their den, laughing, hanging off the bars, swinging and generally loving being out and about. Sis and I sat on the wooden bench, watching them, slightly bored and nursing melting ice-lollies.
There were a couple of organised groups there too, and we had to stop our four being adopted by over efficient teachers and helpers once or twice. Because of these groups the place seemed initially quite busy, but when they all herded back to their coaches and left, it was a bit deserted. By this point our rabble had done most of the activities there (bar the extra ones we had to pay for), and we were about ready to leave. One last trip on the slides and then Sis and I agreed we would head off.
Just as we agreed we were going, Sis and I noticed we were the only people left in the farm building. There weren’t even staff around. After exchanging mischievious grins and dumping handbags, we ran over to the bit where they had mini tractors you could pedal and attempted to play bumper cars /tractors with them. This was very unsucessful as the tractors were very small and neither me nor sis are midgets. After giggling hysterically, we then ran off and played stupid chasing games around the straw bale maze, and for a grand finale we bombed down the slide at high speed. As I slid over the last bump, laughing my head off, the farmer type bloke walked in the door and I threw myself to my feet, dusted myself down, and casually ambled over to the same bale of hay my sister was leaning on nonchalantly, having just clambered to her feet and sat on it a second before me. We stood there, the picture of perfect parenting types, stifling giggles and shooting sideways glances at the farmer bloke who appeared to be pretending not to have seen us acting like 7 year olds. It was probably a good thing that he turned up when he did, one minute longer and we’d have been riding the goats. We left shortly afterwards. I’m surprised they didn’t try and put us in the pens with all the lambs we looked that sheepish.
The kids really enjoyed themselves, and I have to say I really enjoyed acting like a big kid for a little while too. Social convention is rubbish, why should we grow old gracefully and shuffle around with bags and coats watching the younger generation have all the fun. Buggerit I say!