Monday, 13 July 2009

I am never going on another treasure hunt for as long as I live

Yesterday, passed through all nine circles of hell.

It started off alright, as one might expect, with the easy clue number one of the TREASURE HUNT OF HELL being something of the sort like Can you write here what is on the sign by the lake? Well of course we could! Ha ha ha ha ha!


How we laughed, and filled in the answer, and the sunshine sparkled on the gentle ripples of the lake.

Not for much longer matey. Because the next clue was beyond the deathly River Acheron


and that next clue was GIBBERISH. Like, B4 UC GL 5 PT can U C the HEART?

And GL 5 PT is a lamp post! And lo! There was no heart! THERE WAS NO HEART. BUT THEY DIDN'T MEAN A HEART! THEY MEANT THE SIGN ON THE GRATE UNDER THE LAMP POST YOU DUMBO GRIT.


But by then it was all too late. The little grits had begun to cast themselves downward, forlorn, and soon began to weep and hold their heads in their hands with the incomprehension of it all, with the painful process of finding out EXACTLY WTF DO THESE QUESTIONS MEAN?


But we had already strayed with willfulness into the dark wood of the lamenting doomed, and now there was NO TURNING BACK.

We went on and on, FAILING to answer 50 QUESTIONS about Cardiff and rats and barns and Christian Ronaldo and all the Grits weeping louder and louder with the despair and impossibility of it all and REFUSING TO GIVE IN and all of it bringing me close to madness with the constant weeping of the damned ringing in my ears, and then I had to forsake all SANITY and have A BIG SHOUT.

I cannot then recall all the horrors.

No, not the incontinence and violence, the assailing by beasts, the wrathful fighting, the gnashing of teeth, tearing of clothes, pulling of hair, and agonies of TRIPLET PAIN having the BIGGEST FIGHT THIS WORLD HAS EVER SEEN. With mama shouting and children screaming and Here Here! Witness! An imminent physical attack with clipboard!


I ASK YOU, CAN A WOMAN SUFFER MORE?

And all of this horror and mutilation was done in the name of the RSPB TREASURE HUNT which should have taken an hour OF FUN IN THE SUN but which took Grit and the gritlets THREE HOURS OF MISERY.

As we wretched, exhausted half-beings crawled back through the festering sore that was our pain, back to the solitude of our car, the LAST CAR IN THE CAR PARK


now numb with the pain and the sorrow of it all, seeing the organisers locking up, thinking we must have given up and gone home, they produced from Satan's back passage AN OUT OF DATE CHOCOLATE EASTER EGG EACH.

And then the little grits all calmed down and clambered with vigour into the car and went happy home as if nothing could possibly have gone wrong with such a splendid day out.

8 comments:

mamacrow said...

Ah. You need the patented Mamacrow's solution. Get puzzled by the first question, skip to the next one you CAN answer, end up skipping the lot, having a pleasent stroll and being the first car out of the car park.

Inportant part of this plan - DO NOT let any child have a copy of the questions so they don't KNOW you're skipping questions (hey, you make some up!)and can't do the whole 'but we've GOT TO DO IT ALL PROPERLY' drama thing.

However, then I have to deal with the fact we're all lactose intolerant so can't eat any treaure on offer anyway. Which could go reasonably well if I've been organised and packed dairy free chocolate buttons, and more seven shades of hell if (like normal) I haven't.

sharon said...

LOL!!!

sarah haliwell said...

So I've just found your weblog and I can tell pretty much straight away most of my comments here are going to be along the lines of "lol."

The solution to treasure hunts according to my family: don't go on them.

Debs said...

You've just reminded me of 3-2-1 with Ted Rogers - remember that? The absolutely insane makes-no-sense-whatsoever clues? And Dusty Bin! Aah.

Anyway, glad you survived - and I know I shouldn't laugh, but that picture of your poor lonely car in the car park just killed me. :D xx

Joanna said...

Brilliant! The writing, not the experience. But I had a similar time in a maze, on my birthday of all things, once upon a time and will NEVER go in one again!

Maternal Tales said...

Oh Grit my darling - I do feel for you. I did giggle at the last car in the car park though...

Great post - sorry it wasn't such a great experience!

x

The Green Stone Woman said...

Oh lordy, lordy, never tag along when children are on a treasure hunt. Let them go by themselves and get hopelessly stuck or otherwise discombobulated. It will not get any better because you are there. They've got to figure it out for themselves and beat each other up without you getting hurt right in the middle of it. What sort of a treasure hunt was that anyway that a grown up woman couldn't figure it out and got beat up by her children because of it? Sounds to me like some very dark and evil plot to cause disarray in a happy family's life. Don't do that again!

Grit said...

thank you for your comments people. i am fully recovered and it only took a third of a bottle of brandy.