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Published: September 16th 2014
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Woolly says – Having experienced the delights of Stratford I was rather chuffed to find out that our evening’s entertainment was to be at the theatre. Being a cultured type of mammoth I knew I would be in my element hob knobbing with the elite and famous. As I made my entrance I awaited the salutations and celebrations of my arrival, not a thing! There were plenty of people milling around but no one seemed to realise that I had arrived, all I could hear were whispers about cats, shouldn’t that be Mammoths! I stomped up the stairs closely followed by Jo and daughter Zoe and plonked myself in our seats, daughter Zoe was clutching a magazine with a picture of some cats eyes and Jo was burbling on about cats as well, what about the MAMMOTH! I was getting grumpy and as the lights disappeared I settled down to see what all the fuss was about. CATS!!!!!! What are they doing to me? Why not a show about Mammoths? What are they doing down there on the stage? I sighed heavily and tucked into my pistachios. With Woolly puffing and chuffing away next to us, daughter Zoe and I tried to piece together the story, I’m still not sure to be fair but there was some wonderful dancing, some amazing singing and plenty of Cats.
Woolly says – Having mulled it over in the night I came to the conclusion that I still don’t quite know what was going on as far as Cat’s were concerned and that doing a musical about Mammoths would be far more successful. The morning had dawned a little overcast and as we sat eating our croissants we considered our options for the day, The Science Museum (took long to go round), Cadbury’s World (I thought Jo would be begging to take me there but it’s a bit expensive apparently and my companions had been several times before). With the sun making a late appearance I put my paws worth in and suggested Birmingham’s Botanical Gardens. For once the furry menace had a great idea….. Woolly says – Were going to be having words about that…. ……based in the Edgbaston area of the second city the Botanical gardens is hidden behind a range or rather nice houses and mansions. Woolly says – I’m still not happy and I want an apology! Opened almost 200 years ago, the landscapes were designed by J. C. Loudon, one of the most successful garden planners of his time, so let’s see if he had the same capabilities of Mr Brown. Good link there Woolly, we paid over our £7.00 each GBP as Woolly scurried under the barrier and shot into the first greenhouse. Woolly says – plants wait for no mammoth. I came to an abrupt halt as I raced into the start of the gardens to save myself being caught and eaten by the GIANT coi carp that were swimming around me in flocks. I threw a leaf into the pond and while they were distracted I took the chance to gaze around the humid area which was filled with HUGE plants decorated in gold and red flowers, with leaves longer than my trunk, I seemed to have arrived in the rain forest. As I cut my way through the jungle I was glad to arrive outside without having been eaten alive by the deadly fish or savaged by a passing tiger. Spread out below me was a beautifully manicured lawn with an iron worked aviary and a bandstand to look at, setting off down the path I shouted at Jo and daughter Zoe to keep up.
With Woolly galloping ahead we wandered slowly behind enjoying the autumnal colours of the rich russets and amber leaves with a sudden appearance of the bulbous flower heads of the hydrangeas. We spotted Woolly sitting on some very flat crocuses. Woolly says – It wasn’t me! They were like that when I found them, which was a shame as the must have looked lovely when in full flower. Pounding onwards I came upon another green house, the doors were a too much for my small stature so I sat in the onion bed twiddling my paws until help arrived in the shape of Jo and daughter Zoe. Once inside and I nearly fell over my tusks as a butterfly flew straight past my trunk, looking up there seemed to be many more flitting from plant to plant, once Jo had managed to focus the camera on one of them long enough for it to pose we continued onwards. Through a pond area with a lovely tinkerling waterfall which made me remember that I might need to use the little boys room and into the historical gardens. Three courtyards depicting the Romans with the long wavy vine, medieval times with a gnarled meddler tree before entering the Tudor maze which was just the right size for me.
Having extracted Woolly from the maze we found the pathway ahead full of cacti, big ones, small ones, fat and long ones not to mention the cute cabbage looking ones, warning the mammoth about the spikes daughter Zoe suggested a snack. Woolly says – well you don’t need to ask twice, so sucking my paw to see if that would get the sharp needle out of my paw I limped my way towards cake and biscuits. Warming my fur under the sun we hummed and harred about what to consider next. I threw ‘having another snack’ into the mix but then Jo got that glazed look that comes over her sometimes and sprang up shouting ‘Rotton Park’, really, has she taken leave of her senses again? Why would we want to go and see something rotting? Then I heard her tell daughter Zoe about the days when clad in her hot pants she would cycle round the reservoir at Rotton Park with her Dad and about the 80’s TV show Boon that was filmed there, she looked happy so I gave in. After several wrong turns, screeching of brakes and looks of panic from daughter Zoe we seemed to have found a car park. The resiour stretched out in front of us whilst behind us stood the tower blocks and office buildings of the city. I searched for conkers and tried throwing them at the ducks as we wandered around the perimeter.
Maybe a strange place to go but it made a pleasant walk through the trees, watching the gulls, coots and great crested grebes diving under the water to catch supper, as we continued to chat enjoying each other’s company and reminiscing.
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Paul Drielsma
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Wollomi?
I think that oldest fern in the world is the Wollomi Fern which was discovered about 20 years ago in a place not far from where I reside in Australia when I am there. The place is top secret and in a hidden sunken valley with a micro-climate of it's own. Only accessible by helicopter (blindfolded and privileges VIPs... oh, not the pilot). They have propagated the seeds (National Parks Service) and now it's big business. Grow very slow. They are a direct line from pre-historic times (don't ask me the correct period title but from when Dinasours and Mammoth's ruled the world).