Farm tales
Last week was half term, so I took a couple of days off work and we legged it to Horton Farm - we love it there. Met up with some mates (all with 8-year-old boys) - it seemed like a brilliant idea.
They were like a pack of wild dogs. There's this tractor that goes around the farm giving rides on the trailer - nice, harmless fun for the little ones. Then 6 long-haired (seems to be the thing never to go near the barbers when you're 8) hooligans decide it would be a good idea to pelt the hapless riders with handfulls of grass, soil - and most likely a bit of goat poo.
Me (yelling as sweetly as possible so as not to disturb the other very nice mums and their well-behaved offspring): Don't do that boys, it's not nice.
Hooligans: Got'im!
10 minutes later the tractor is back and this time the hooligans are running alongside the tractor shouting 'poo' and 'fart'.
Eva and Rene (motioning frantically to the hooligans): Boys! Come here now.
A big telling-off later and the hooligans slink off.
10 minutes later the tractor sails by - with 6 small boys hanging off the back of the trailer!!!!!
Me, Eva, Rene, Lisa (Kirsty has gone to get the teas): COME HERE NOW! (Shattering the peace and the eardrums of aforementioned nice mums)
Dire threats and warnings of banned PS2/gameboy/tamagotchi - FOR LIFE - and they slink off yet again.
Kirsty trots back with the teas gaily saying:
'The staff in the tearoom are all going on about some hideous little gang of yobs that are about to get kicked out - so ours aren't the only ones in trouble today - haha.'
Meanwhile... the very little fellas we also brought (3 of them) had managed to
1. hog the high wire slide so basically no-one else was getting a look in and everyone in the queue was crying
2. get liberally coated in cow poo
3. crawl under a fence and get in a field with 2 llamas.
At the end of the day, we cram the hooligans into various vehicles (by now we're desperate for a vat of wine and a fag), and Lisa manages to leave her bag on the ground and then run over it.
Dear god.
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