Rude Woman - Nice Man!

Oh she was – very. We took the kids to the zoo – I dislike zoos. So why go? I don't know what possessed me to be honest!

The railway last week was so much nicer.

Today there were too many people, too many children smelling of sick, too many people, too many wasps, too many people . . .

I don’t do crowds at the best of times.

The rude woman? Ah, well we queued up to go on a little train ride. It was running continuously and only took about 5 minutes for the ride. Anyway, this grandmother tried to push in between me and my husband – unsuccessfully I might add. Sometimes it is advantageous to have a bum the size of a small car.

I counted the seats on the train and there was plenty of room for the grandmother to get on as well as us and the kids in front of us. But when the little gate was opened – my god, talk about a one woman stampede! She shoved her grandchildren through the gate having elbowed us out of the way and yelled at us over her shoulder “It’s all right I’m with them!”

I’m still trying to figure that one out. It’s all right to push in if you’re shoving kids in front of you?

I soon realised why she pushed in front. She wanted seats at the front end of the little train. We had to go in seats in the last carriage which was stopped next to a small fence. There was about two inches between the train and the little fence. Okay, more than two inches, but not a lot of room even if you didn’t have a bum the size of a small car.

My backpack chose the moment that I was climbing on to self destruct, but we made it.

When we got off, I noticed that Rude Woman had an even bigger behind than mine. I can only assume that was why she had such an urgent need to push in.

Now I’ll tell you something nice that happened. You can buy food for the part of the zoo where there are ponies and goats and so on – not that I could find where to buy it! It was probably cunningly disguised behind two thousand people heavily engaged in the popular pastime of wasp swatting.

Two year old Imogen adores horses. I held her up so she could stroke a pony. A man in a Guinness polo shirt came and stood beside us and fed the pony, then he offered some of the food to Imogen. She held out her little hand and the pony was so gentle. He then gave me the rest of the food in his cup for her. Wasn’t that nice? Lovely man, lovely pony!

I can’t help wishing we’d gone to the beach though!