As part of our cultural tour of England, today’s excitement was a trip to a Maize Maze. There is a farm not far from my sister’s home which every summer, creates a maze from their maize crop. It’s quite famous in the area and as it’s only open for a few weeks a year, is also very popular.
It all looked promising until we reached the entrance where we were charged £24 for the privilege of getting lost. Put me in the car park at the Dubai Mall and I can easily get myself lost for free with the added benefit that I’m in the comfort of my own vehicle, so this seemed a little steep to me. However, we did get a map and the loan of a long stick with a flag on the end.
“What’s it for?”, asked my son.
The helpful student-type who’d relieved us of our £24 explained that ‘if’ we got lost, we could simply raise the flag and shout loudly and someone would come to rescue us.
At this point, I was still blissfully unaware that the maze was actually quite complicated and the chances of us getting lost were incredibly high.
As we entered the maze, my son instructed us that there was to be a girl’s team and a boy’s team. He would be negotiating the maze with the help of my sister’s boyfriend, whilst my sister and I had the benefit of the twin’s navigational skills.
We set off in different directions and soon realised that the maize was in fact, quite tall. We could only see the heads of people who were at least 6 ft tall and there seemed to be an awful lot of flag waving going on.
The initial paths were well-worn and nicely flat. The girls’ buggy trundled easily along the soil and the twins themselves seemed jolly.
20 minutes later we were deep in the middle of the maze, the well-worn paths a distant memory, and spots of rain dropped on us from ominously grey clouds. By now we’d realised that flip-flops aren’t appropriate footwear; that it would have been a good idea to pack the buggy’s rain cover; and that maybe, just maybe, if we’d looked at the map at the start, we may actually have an idea of where we now were.
Sense of humours still intact… just, my sister and I took turns to drag the buggy over the increasingly bumpy terrain. At one point, with me pushing, and her pulling, we dissolved into fits of giggles as no amount of brute force would force the thing to move. We considered abandoning the buggy and carrying the girls out, but as we had no idea of which way to go, conceded that it wasn’t the greatest plan as we’d probably just end up abandoning the girls once they got too heavy and wriggly to carry.
By now, we’d been in the maze for over 45 minutes and it’s fair to say, it had lost its element of fun.
The girls were getting tired and grumpy and not even date and apple bars could take their minds off the whiplash.
The fact that we kept passing the same people didn’t fill me with hope that we’d ever find our way out.
And then we realised we’d lost our flag!
So come on then… own up.. who’s bright idea was it?