The idea of the Royal Easter Show sends shivers down my spine. Not those exciting anticipatory shivers, but more like the shivers you get just before you pass diarrhoea.
I get that The Show is kinda fun, but it’s just such a ball ache.
It’s the mission to get there, the throngs of bogans, the gaggles upon swarms of other people’s children, the Dagwood Dogs from oily smelling vans, the penned animals in humid tents, exorbitant parking, the waiting – oh, the waiting in lines – and the million dollars you spend in order to have this horrible day out.
I reckon it would be fairly safe to call me the Easter Grinch….. that was until this year. I was pumped.
I admit that I only braved the baby sister lame-o excursion to the Easter Family Show at Fox Studios, but it had everything I described just in smaller, more palatable doses.
In fact, The Grinch had herself bags of fun…. but man, that four hours felt like a 48 hour dance-a-thon. My feet were sore, my back ached, I was covered in a mild layer of dirt, and I had tomato sauce smeared all over me making me look like I’d been to battle.
The kids had a great day though but it’s hard to tell, check out D Man’s head when he’s finally got hold of the first hotdog of his life.
A horse walks into a bar, or what????
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