mudhole? slimy?

Having used up the parrot sanctuary last summer there are few other tourist attractions remaining so it was to Snipe Dales that we went today, last visited in and little-changed since the early nineties. It's just a nature reserve with a few paths through it and some half-hearted toilets next to the car park so even Lincolnshire can't arse it up too much, though the absence of reliable route-signposting meant that I probably didn't stick to the green-tree-marked route when the wingpiglet woke from his post-lunch nap and we could set off in pursuit of everyone else and that everyone else probably hadn't followed all of it since my mum texted to say where they were heading when they went off whilst I sat guard in the car. I eventually caught up with Ralph and my dad when they were wandering back along the path in search of Nicky, Clare and my mum, whom I must have had to have walked through if they'd been sticking to the path. The wee buggy Nicky picked up sort of worked for a bit as a way of getting Edgar to do his own walking but some carrying was still necessary for the distances and speeds involved.