Posted on August 4, 2025

It began with the kind of start no military operation would envy: late, chaotic, and entirely fuelled by caffeine and the frantic shouts of, “WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?” We had planned for an early departure—visions of logistical precision and serene travel floated in our heads the night before.

In reality, we woke up late. Groggy, uncoordinated, and amid a flurry of clothing-based crises, we somehow managed to rally the family troops and were on the road to Norwich by 09:30.

Honestly, that alone deserves applause—or at the very least, a strong coffee.

Despite the delayed launch, the journey into the city was blissfully uneventful. I say blissfully because Norfolk currently resembles a testing ground for every roadworks crew in the UK. I swear half the county is dug up. Entire towns seem to be held together by traffic cones and sheer optimism.

But we navigated the trenches and reached Norwich—a minor miracle in itself.

Operation: Replace What They’ve Outgrown

As all parents know, children have the uncanny ability to outgrow their clothes faster than you can say, “But I just bought that.” Our mission: acquire clothing before the children’s ankles and wrists became entirely exposed to the elements.

Lily, our eldest, is a force of nature. She knows exactly what she wants—and unfortunately, fate rarely provides it in her size. It’s as though the entire clothing supply chain is conspiring against her. But persistence paid off. She secured a few key pieces, and we lived to tell the tale.

Harry, our middle child, is the real wildcard when it comes to clothes shopping. He hates change with a passion. New clothes? Unfamiliar textures? Altered routines? Cue the emotional negotiations that would make a UN diplomat weep.

Yet, somehow, we struck gold. We found items he liked—or at least didn’t object to—and got them past the tribunal of his discerning taste.

Then there’s Hallie. Sweet, unpredictable, two-year-old Hallie. She has an infatuation with footwear bordering on obsession. Trainers, boots, sparkly sandals—she wants them all.

Today’s demand? Shoes and an umbrella. Never mind that the sky was clear. She insisted. The umbrella became her prized possession for the day—her portable parasol of toddler pride.

From Retail Skirmish to Urban Safari

Having survived the retail ordeal, it was time for the fun bit: the GoGo Safari Trail. Norwich’s brilliantly devised walking trail, dotted with 116 colourful animal statues scattered throughout the city, is equal parts art, exercise, and wild goose chase.

We picked up three maps at The Forum, distributed them among the kids like treasure maps, and commenced our urban adventure. I was in my power chair, the kids on foot, and my wife coordinating movement with the grace of a seasoned field officer.

Norwich, by the way, is a wonderful city. Medieval architecture, crooked alleyways, and a rich tapestry of old and new. The Safari Trail is an ingenious way to see the city through the eyes of a child—and to sneak in more walking than any of them realised they were signing up for.

Bubble Tea: The Cultural Enigma

Mid-morning, Lily declared she needed bubble tea.

Now, I’ve faced down some confusing things in my life, but bubble tea still leaves me blinking in mild dismay.

For those unacquainted, bubble tea (or boba) is a Taiwanese concoction of sweetened tea, milk, and chewy tapioca pearls served with a straw thick enough to accommodate a golf ball. It’s part beverage, part snack, and entirely perplexing.

Lily loves it. I tried to understand it. I failed. But hey—hydration is hydration, even if it comes with pearls.

Safari Lunch: Nutritional Negotiations

After several statue sightings (and one incident involving a debate about whether something was a statue or just a very colourful bin), we stopped for lunch.

The destination: Norwich Market. The menu: chips.

Now, I’m no wildlife expert, but I’m fairly sure chips don’t feature on any safari survival guide. Still, there’s something deeply satisfying about eating freshly cooked chips in the open air, surrounded by bustling shoppers and the odd rogue pigeon hoping for a snack.

Hallie, of course, attempted to feed hers to a pigeon. It accepted graciously.

Fatigue and Fading Batteries

By 16:45, our party was visibly depleted.

Hallie had fallen asleep in her pushchair, arms curled protectively around her umbrella. Lily and Harry were flagging, energy levels plummeting. And as for me—well, my power chair was having a sympathy slump. Battery indicators were flashing ominously after a day spent zipping around medieval streets.

Time to retreat. We loaded the troops back into the car and made our way home, filled with the kind of quiet satisfaction that only comes from a well-spent day.

Evening Rations and Final Position

Back at base, the children requested a movie night. Popcorn was deployed, ice cream distributed, and we all collapsed on the sofa like battle-worn warriors.

The fans were on, windows open, and the sounds of summer drifted in as animated films played. There’s a particular kind of joy that comes from shared silence—everyone content, cooled down, and fully absorbed in the final moments of a day well lived.

Reflection: The Best Adventures Are Rarely Perfect

If there’s one truth that echoed through our slightly chaotic safari day, it’s this: the most memorable moments aren’t found in perfection—they’re made in the muddle.

There were tantrums, missteps, and debates over clothing. There was confusion over bubble tea and arguments about map directions.

But there was also laughter, discovery, and togetherness.

We didn’t find all 116 statues. We didn’t even stay on schedule. But we made memories that won’t fade. And that’s the real treasure—moments shared, time spent, and love made visible through shared experience.

Call to Action: Time is Finite—Spend it With the Right People

Here’s the thing: time doesn’t stop. Days like this don’t wait for convenience. And children—like batteries—only run at full speed for so long before they need recharging.

So make the time. Go on the trip. Buy the chips. Chase down statues with your kids, or grandkids, or friends. Let your plans fall apart. Let the umbrella be part of the memory.

Because these are the days that matter.

📍 What’s your next family adventure? Don’t wait for it to be convenient. Make it count now. Share this story if it made you smile—and then go out and create one of your own. The clock’s ticking. Make it tick for love.