Slip and slide

Friday began far earlier than any sensible Friday should.

Mr Brand was already loading the car while balancing a travel mug of coffee, a satnav that insisted on speaking in an alarmingly cheerful voice, and Barry, who had somehow managed to climb into the boot “to see where luggage lives.”

“Barry,” sighed Mr Brand, “people don’t travel in the boot.”

“I’m not people.”

“…I walked straight into that one.”

Mrs Brand emerged from the house carrying sandwiches, sun cream, hats and approximately seventeen things that absolutely had to go in the car, including a big duffle bag. 

“Have a lovely day,” she smiled. “And good luck looking at the care home.”

Mr Brand nodded.

He was driving to Leicestershire to visit a care home that he hoped might be a lovely place for Grandma Brand. She was still managing well enough on her own, but everyone agreed that finding somewhere kind, friendly and close to family before it became urgent was the sensible thing to do.

It wasn’t the most exciting reason for a day trip.

Which was exactly why Mr Brand had secretly planned something brilliant afterwards.

Marjory and Marmaduke appeared a few minutes later.

“Morning!” smiled Marjory.

“Morning,” said Mr Brand.

“You sure you’re happy taking both little tornadoes?”

“I’ve packed snacks.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I’ve packed lots of snacks.”

Marjory laughed.

“Good luck.”

She crouched beside Marmaduke.

“Listen to adults, please.”

“I will.”

“And don’t copy Barry.”

“I won’t.”

Barry looked horrified.

“But then he’ll miss all the fun!”

Alfie climbed into the front seat.

He preferred maps.

Mr Brand preferred satnavs.

Neither admitted this to the other.

Barry and Marmaduke immediately began arguing over which cloud looked most like a dinosaur.

“It looks like a sausage.”

“It doesn’t!”

“It’s definitely a dragon.”

“No. Sausage.”

Eventually they agreed it was a dragon eating a sausage.

Diplomacy had prevailed.

The visit to the care home went well.

Grandma Brand wasn’t moving tomorrow, or next week, but it made everyone feel happier knowing there were lovely places if she ever needed one.

Barry had been exceptionally well behaved.

Mostly because he’d discovered a fish tank in reception.

He spent twenty minutes introducing himself individually to every fish.

“I’m Barry.”

Bubble.

“I’m four.”

Bubble.

“I got a mouse.”

The fish seemed politely interested.

As they climbed back into the car, Mr Brand smiled.

“Right then.”

“Home?” asked Alfie.

“Nope.”

“Where?”

“I’ve got a surprise.”

Barry gasped so dramatically that even passing pigeons looked concerned.

“A SURPRISE!”

Forty minutes later they turned into Marsh House Farm.

Barry pressed his face against the window.

“LOOK!”

Huge inflatable slides.

Fields.

Animals.

Children laughing.

And stretching across a grassy slope…

The longest Slip ‘N’ Slide run in the entire country.

Water sprayed into the sunshine.

People launched themselves downhill on giant inflatable rings.

Some screamed.

Some laughed.

Some did both.

Barry’s jaw fell open.

“…that’s amazing.”

Mr Brand grinned.

“I thought after this morning we all deserved to be a bit silly.”

Even Alfie smiled.

Which happened often enough to prove he wasn’t actually made of granite.

They headed to a changing room where the contents of the duffle bag turned out to be their swimwear. 

They collected giant inflatable tubes.

Barry’s was almost as tall as he was.

Marmaduke promptly disappeared inside his.

“Help.”

“You’ve become a doughnut,” said Alfie.

“I can’t get out.”

Barry laughed so hard he nearly disappeared into his own ring.

Mr Brand rescued Marmaduke before anyone could accidentally roll him down the hill.

A member of staff explained the rules.

“Feet first.”

Everyone nodded.

“No standing.”

Barry nodded.

“No wrestling.”

Barry nodded slightly less enthusiastically.

“Wait until the person in front has finished.”

Barry nodded again.

The staff member looked directly at him.

“I mean it.”

“I’m very patient.”

Mr Brand coughed loudly to hide a laugh.

They climbed the enormous hill.

Halfway up Barry asked,

“Are we nearly there?”

“No.”

Three minutes later…

“Now?”

“No.”

Another minute.

“I think this hill is broken.”

Alfie rolled his eyes.

“It’s called exercise.”

“I don’t like exercise.”

“You’ve climbed three quarters of it.”

“I don’t like remembering exercise.”

Finally they reached the top.

The view stretched for miles across the Leicestershire countryside.

The giant slide gleamed below them.

Barry bounced excitedly.

“I’M FIRST!”

“No,” said Mr Brand.

“I am.”

“Awww.”

“I’d like to make sure it doesn’t end in disaster.”

Barry looked puzzled.

“It definitely ends at the bottom.”

Mr Brand launched himself.

WHOOOOOOSH!

Water sprayed everywhere.

His tube flew downhill at astonishing speed.

He reached the bottom grinning like an overgrown schoolboy.

Barry blinked.

“I didn’t know dads could do that.”

“They absolutely can,” laughed Alfie.

Barry’s turn.

He sat in the tube.

The helper gave him a gentle push.

Nothing happened.

Barry looked confused.

“I think I’m stuck.”

One more shove.

WHOOSH!

Barry disappeared downhill.

Halfway down he discovered that screaming with delight made him go faster.

Or at least it felt like it did.

“WWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

He arrived at the bottom with hair pointing in every possible direction.

“I’M DOING THAT AGAIN!”

Marmaduke followed.

His tube spun gently sideways.

Then backwards.

Then sideways again.

He reached the bottom facing completely the wrong way.

“…I don’t know what happened.”

“You invented interpretive sliding,” said Mr Brand.

Alfie brought up the rear.

Perfectly straight.

Perfect posture.

Sensibly balanced.

He looked like someone demonstrating proper sliding technique in an instructional video.

Barry frowned and rolled his eyes. 

The competition began naturally.

It always did.

“I bet I can go faster!” shouted Barry.

“No chance,” said Mr Brand.

“I’ll win,” smiled Alfie.

“I think I’ll accidentally win,” said Marmaduke.

Round after round they raced.

Sometimes together.

Sometimes separately.

Sometimes trying ridiculous positions.

Lying down.

Sitting backwards.

Holding onto the handles.

Letting go of the handles.

Mr Brand attempted what he confidently described as “an advanced aerodynamic tuck.”

Halfway down he rotated gracefully through ninety degrees before arriving sideways in an enormous splash.

Barry laughed so much he fell off his own tube.

“Daddy became a helicopter!”

“You sort of did,” admitted Alfie.

Barry tried copying.

Mr Brand stopped him immediately.

“Nice try.”

“Aww.”

“Some ideas belong to grown-ups.”

“Why?”

“Because grown-ups are allowed to make silly decisions after years of experience.”

Soon they discovered another game.

Who could make the biggest splash?

Barry threw himself into the final puddle.

SPLASH!

Water soaked everyone nearby.

“Excellent effort,” said Mr Brand.

Marmaduke tried.

Respectable splash.

Alfie landed neatly.

Tiny splash.

Barry shook his head sadly.

“You’ve got to commit.”

Then came the race everyone remembered forever.

The Four Brand-Jackson Grand Championship.

Mr Brand.

Alfie.

Barry.

Marmaduke.

Four tubes lined up.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

“Three…”

“Two…”

“One…”

“PUSH!”

All four disappeared downhill.

For about three glorious seconds they stayed together.

Then Barry hit a tiny ripple.

His tube bounced.

Knocked Marmaduke.

Marmaduke spun.

Gently bumped Mr Brand.

Mr Brand laughed so much he lost balance.

Alfie somehow remained perfectly straight.

Barry overtook everybody while laughing hysterically.

Marmaduke accidentally completed almost a full circle.

Mr Brand sprayed everyone with water.

Alfie crossed the finish line first.

Barry arrived half a second later.

Mr Brand third.

Marmaduke eventually appeared backwards.

“I SAW THE WHOLE WORLD!”

After almost an hour of climbing, sliding, laughing and becoming progressively wetter, everyone collapsed onto the grass.

Mr Brand looked at his watch.

“I think we’re done.”

Barry groaned dramatically.

“I could slide for sixteen years.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“I definitely could.”

“You’d need snacks.”

“…Good point.”

They wandered around the farm afterwards.

They met goats who looked suspiciously like professional biscuit thieves.

A donkey that ignored absolutely everyone.

Some pigs asleep in the mud.

Barry admired this lifestyle enormously.

“I could do that.”

“I know,” sighed Alfie.

Eventually everyone climbed back into the car.

Wet hair. 

Dry clothes. 

Happy.

Slightly muddy.

Very hungry.

Barry was asleep before they reached the main road.

Exactly nine minutes later he woke up.

“I’m starving.”

Mr Brand looked in the mirror.

“You’ve been asleep.”

“I woke up hungry.”

“Remarkable.”

As the golden evening sun began dropping lower in the sky, the familiar golden arches appeared beside the road.

Barry spotted them first.

“MCDONALD’S!”

Marmaduke sat bolt upright.

“I LOVE MCDONALD’S!”

Alfie smiled.

“I was hoping we’d stop.”

Mr Brand grinned.

“I thought we might.”

Inside, they ordered.

Barry carefully studied the picture menu.

“I’ll have…”

Long pause.

“…chips.”

“You need something else.”

“Nuggets.”

“Good.”

“And chips.”

“I’d guessed.”

“And a milkshake.”

“We’ll see.”

They found a table.

Barry emptied the Happy Meal box.

Toy first.

Food second.

As nature intended.

Marmaduke did exactly the same.

Alfie simply ate.

Like a normal person.

Mr Brand took one bite of his burger.

Barry appeared beside him.

“Can I have one chip?”

“You’ve got chips.”

“I know.”

“I’d like yours.”

“Why?”

“They taste different.”

“They absolutely don’t.”

“They do if they’re stolen.”

Mr Brand laughed and handed him one.

Barry looked delighted.

“I was right.”

Halfway through dinner, Marmaduke announced, “Today was brilliant.”

“It was,” agreed Alfie.

“My favourite bit was winning.”

“You won one race.”

“I won the race.”

Barry interrupted.

“I won funniest.”

“You definitely did,” laughed Mr Brand.

“And you,” Barry said to Marmaduke, “won spinniest.”

“I did!”

“And Daddy won soggiest.”

“I object.”

“Too late.”

Driving back towards London, the motorway hummed beneath the tyres.

The boys were tired in that lovely way only children can be after a day spent outdoors.

Alfie watched the sunset.

Marmaduke yawned.

Barry cuddled Mousey, who had sensibly remained hidden in Barry’s pocket throughout the watery adventures.

Even tiny mice know that the longest slip and slide in the country is no place for creatures weighing less than a grape.

Mr Brand smiled quietly to himself.

The morning had been about doing something responsible for Grandma Brand’s future.

The afternoon had been about making memories for the boys.

Life, he thought, had a funny way of balancing the sensible with the silly.

Sometimes you had to think carefully about tomorrow.

Sometimes you had to race your children down a giant slippery hill while accidentally turning yourself into a sideways helicopter.

Both, it turned out, were equally important.

As the lights of London appeared ahead, Barry’s eyes were already closing again.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can we come back?”

“I think so.”

“And next time…”

“Mmm?”

“…I’m definitely beating you.”

Mr Brand smiled.

“We’ll see.”

Within seconds Barry was asleep, clutching his little Happy Meal toy in one hand and Mousey safely tucked in his pocket, dreaming of giant slides, enormous splashes and chips that somehow tasted better when borrowed from somebody else’s tray.

Behind them, Marsh House Farm disappeared into the evening light, ready for tomorrow’s visitors.

But none of them, the staff agreed later with a smile, were ever likely to produce quite as much laughter as the little boys who believed the secret to winning a slip-and-slide race was shouting “WHEEEEE!” louder than everyone else.

To be fair…

It almost worked.