The summer holidays seem like a distant memory now.  We didn’t go abroad but we did have a massive amount of fun at Camp Bestival and on our days out.

One such day out was to a local park that Dexter, for some weird reason, seems to love.  It’s the one park where the fair comes every year.  Not a nice fair.  Y’know, the type of fair your mum warned you about.    Yeah, that type of fair. 

It used to be nice.  It was somewhere I spent a lot of time when I was younger.  It’s right by the river, has an outdoor swimming pool (where lots of shenaniganising went on as a teenager,) and then there was the train.

Awww yeah!  All aboard the WitWitWoo Express!

It’s a small train that slowly chugs around the park … not exactly talking Eurostar here.  The young kids love it, as did I when I was their age.  It’s just so innocent.  No bells and whistles.  Literally, none – they’re probably broken.  It goes at approximately 1mph and it just travels around in a circle.

Twice.

Of course, back in the day, it felt like a big train.  Everything seems big when you’re five.  Thirty five years later and … hmmmm …. it ain’t so big now!  In fact, when Dexter asked to go on it, I felt that familiar panic that I feel when he wants me to play in the indoor gyms with him.  The realisation that actually, the possibility of getting stuck on a slide or between two foam rollers is quite high.

I looked at the train as Dexter begged me to take him on it.  I looked back at Dexter’s big, brown doe eyes, then back at the train.  The seats were so small.  But he looked so cute.  How could I say no?!

So I took my seat, praying, literally praying, that I would be able to fit in it.  It consisted of a row of children’s, plastic, school chairs, wedged in the train.  And the question was …. If I managed to wedge my thighs into the train, would I be able to get out?

I prayed to the God of Denim that the lycra in my jeans had sucked in enough fat to ensure no spillage of thigh over the side of the train.

It worked!  I was in!  I couldn’t move, but I was in!

And we were off!  As we ‘raced’ round the track Dexter asked to do some filming (he’s obviously completely unphased by vlogging now,) and I knew I’d done the right thing.

Of all the things we’d done over the summer holidays, apart from Camp Bestival, this train ride ranked in his Top 3.  He loved it.

When the train stopped, a few people were waiting at the train station (a 3 metre slab of concrete,) and I just hoped I’d be able to get out ok.

I needn’t have worried, it was fine.  Yeah, I had visions of taking part of the train with me but I didn’t.

I think I’ll always have that fear of getting stuck on children’s rides – that’s what you get when you’re a ‘fuller figured’ woman!  But it doesn’t stop me doing things with my kids – it’s spirit that counts, and I got plenty of that.

 

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Published by Kate Sutton

Writer, Mother, Dater.

One reply on “The WitWitWoo Express”

  1. Oh my God, that would be my idea of hell! I’d wedge myself in and never get out again! I’d be stuck there for life just going around and around on what looks like a bloody school chair stuck in a trailer. You’re my hero!

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