Filling the days in half-term was a challenge given the rain, but on one of the few dry days a friend and I decided to take our children to a local safari park. We thought it would be more fun to share one car, so my friend spent the evening beforehand rehearsing the seating arrangements. Quite a challenge when you are co-ordinating six car seats, two mothers and a large picnic.
It took a cool twenty minutes to clip the six children into their seats and I began to wonder how we would ever manage to get anyone out again. I sat in the third row nestled between two small boys, jubilant at being released from indoors. We set off with renditions of, “You are my Sunshine” ringing out. We were greeted by a large sign warning us of the queues around the safari park but, unphased by a bit of traffic, we drove on. More signs at the entrance instructed us on when windows should be up and, most importantly, to use two lanes allowing for people to stop and take photographs while others to drive on. However, it soon became apparent that our fellow drivers in the safari park had not fully hoisted this in and we were soon nose to tail with ‘people carriers’ packed with small excitable children and parents determined to capture the best full frontal shot of the camel. Initially there was just the odd groan from my friend driving but then she flipped. She nudged her bumper up to the car ahead, braking in frustration and then suddenly accelerated past the traffic onto the grass, narrowly missing the grazing zebra. She waved her fist in the air shouting to the now stunned and rather nervous drivers beside us to, “READ THE SIGNS. IT SAYS TWO LANES.” With that, we bypassed the monkey park due to it resembling the M25 in rush hour and my friend was clearly in no mood to have her car trashed. By this stage the closed windows were steaming up with child’s breath and the heat was taking its toll. We sped past the hippos and lions with the small desperate pleas for the loo, drinks and a biscuit, ringing out around us. Skidding onto the grassy picnic area, we piled out of the car gasping for air. Then, like all true Brits, we laid out the picnic rug at the boot of the car and began munching through our sandwiches beside the exhaust pipe. My advice to anyone planning a day out at a local safari park is beware of the road raged mother in an overheated car with six singing children in the back and do remember to read the signs.
