I just don’t like the idea of a zoo and thus far I have not been to one. However The South Lakes Wild Animal Park certainly can’t be a zoo because it clearly states it is a Wild Animal Park and thus we will witness herds of wilderbeest sweeping majestically across the plain.
Also because it lies slightly more towards Barrow In Furness than the actual South Lakes, I presume that because it is February, fucking cold with a hint of torrential downpour and in the North West, that no-one else will be there.
I dislike other people.
The other main reason we are there is because it is ‘free’ with a one pound minimum donation as opposed to the normal eye watering costs of any ‘family attraction’ that is heavily glossily pamphleted.
I was not expecting a queue consisting of teenagers in deck shoes being sarcastic and heavily swearing at each other but it gave me the middle-class Sophies Choice of whether to pay the minimum donation of one pound which the possibly still drunk teenagers were doing or support ‘conservation in action’ and pay more and not look stingy. My moral compass swings wildly between left and right during the queue- we are poor but middle-class- where does that leave us?
I end up bowing down to the many passive aggressive signs about ‘conservation in action’.
The teenager behind the till clearly does not give a fuck about my actually that not generous compared to the normal price donation.
This still keeps me awake at night.
It is exciting to see a giraffe nearly having a piss on a reindeer but I do not want to spend a tenner on such an ammonia stench it is nearly as bad as being in my own home.
The primates are so awesome, naughty and human that any utter utter cunt that shoots them should be done for murder.
The ones that shoot the lions and tigers should be just fed to them.
The lion managed to look exotic,regal and sorrowful whilst staring meaningfully towards a large road nearby. The royal family have never managed this.
I utterly identified with the Sloth with its rough dry hair and slow sad ambivalence. Its opposite was the pacing jaguar roaring against a window of excited sightseers, its pure fury at being watched causing more of an audience. I felt guilty watching it, a voyeur.
Never order chips at the Cafe Maki.
You will watch a confused young girl battle against the plastic fronds of palm trees, walking up and down, up and down with your overpriced chips (two sachets of condiments free, the following ones 10p per sachet ) becoming colder by the second as you frantically beckon and wave for your food underneath a over-sized leaf whilst making frantic hooting noises and waving your arms in the air as people who paid the minimum donation of a pound to enter the park, stare at you in horror and fascination and the phone cameras come out as you gurn and scream, gurn and scream…