Pascoe was home for the weekend. Although we’ve had holidays together, it’s the first time he’s been home this year.
It was time to become Mumzilla.
I put out a three-line whip. For one Saturday, we would ALL do something together.
Lately I’ve felt nostalgia for Whipsnade Zoo.
But it was risky – the forecast was cold and rainy.
More than that – nostalgia can backfire - it’s not always wise to go somewhere you have fond memories of.
Sure enough some old friends were missing.
Where were the white wallabies? Where Horatio Hornbill?
Until we went back, we had been able to imagine Horatio still perkily offering gift-twigs to visitors. But now…
We had to rescue the day, and fast.
We rushed to lay down some new memories.
I will always remember sleek lionesses playing with giant bags of rustling paper and catnip only feet from us, like lethal kittens.
And the warmth of the butterfly house where dazzling blue morphos alit delicately on our shoulders.
Only the dusk persuaded us to go home.
We had planned to go out to a fireworks display, but there was something we had forgotten.
The perfect end to a tiring day at breezy Whipsnade is to snuggle down by the fire.
And that’s what we did.
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