Three moody bulls

Another weekend another exploration of the local environs chez Mummy's Life.  We had some lovely friends, who we see far too rarely, down for the weekend and we took them off for a walk in our new neck of the woods.

We picked a 3 1/2 miler, nice and light for the afternoon.  Snacks, drinks and children on board we set off.

It was most certainly the point at which we reached half way and stopped for a snack and a slug of alcoholic ginger beer when one of our party, could well have been me, decided to comment on what a perfect day it was for walking.  Sunny, yet fresh, perfect.

It started to chuck it down.   My I-am-a-good-mother-really gene had clearly kicked in in preparation as the girls had their matching anoraks.  I didn't, nor did him indoors.  I did, however, have an ability to look forlorn as I was lent what can only be described as a rain cape,  size XXXL.  I was covered in gagool.

We trudged along and by this point my husband had wrestled the guide book off our friends and decided to take charge.  Which was fortunate, since he was the first to spot the three moody looking bulls blocking our path to the stile.   I quickly looked for an alternative route but none was forthcoming.

My husband then decided to face the bulls down.  I had some vague recollection of not making eye contact  in this situation but that could have been buffalos when we were on safari.  Still I didn't really want to look at them too much.  Safe to say I was really quite scared at this point.

My husband becomes quite primal in these situations, develops a sort of survival instinct that is distinctly lacking in me.  He decided that to get home, to ever see civilisation again we must go forth and get past the bulls.  Humankind depended on it.  But right at that point humankind could sod off, I was not taking my kids near those bulls.

He went ahead anyway and walked straight past them of course, Eliza on his back.  Tom followed with Tilly, then Alex, then finally me.  It took me a while but I made it.  I swear one of them was daring me to pass him.  I could see it in his eyes.  Just egging me on to get to the point where there was no more than a metre between us, then he'd go for it.  But he didn't he turned and walked off.  Any farmers reading this will no doubt be ridiculing my complete ignorance, but for me a bull is an animal to look at from behind a nice big fence.

We then came to a very tricky stile fashioned out of the remains of a five bar gate and a bit of string.  Only the string wasn't string, it was electric fence.  Tom got electrocuted.  Not quite sure if Tilly did or not, but she seemed fine, Tom assured me that humans were rubbish conductors.  That's okay then.   He was certainly livened up a bit after the ginger beer.

Finally we reached the end of our expedition.  And naturally the sun came out. Tom had been stoic carrying my heavy, big baby around the walk, in torrential rain, bull fields and electric fences.  Tilly was pretty fed up by this point.  Maybe she didn't like being soaking wet, tired and hungry.  Strange girl.

Eliza was perfectly happy.  My husband, the only one without any waterproof clothing at all, was soaked but smiling and Alex was bringing her own brand of wet t-shirt style to the Surrey Weald.

All in all, a lovely day, followed by a very jolly evening, eating chile and drinking too much.

And we all know that it is just the way of the universe that after a night like that, your toddler will wake you at 5.30am and another day begins.

And what a day today was.  But that's a post for tomorrow.  Right now a glass of wine and Sherlock are calling me.

ps: alas no pictures.  Idiot that I am I forgot my camera.  You just have to believe me, there were THREE and they were MASSIVE.