The petting farm beckoned. A family day out. The place were stinky arse animals attack you from all sides in the hopes of robbing off with the overpriced bag of food in your hand.

Goats are particularly vicious. They hurtle towards you ramming their reinforced concrete heads into your groin rendering you catatonic and crying. The joys.

To clear this up, even as a woman, having your beetle bonnet crashed into by a rampaging beast fricking hurts. No, I am not talking about my husband but then again, I have heard the phrase ‘brace yourself’ far too often!

Car packed, we headed to the farm. Within a few miles, ominous warnings began for impending travel sickness. For the record, I was a first aider, could deal with blood, broken bones and any kind of injuries.

However, I cannot handle vomit. To be around anyone being sick will set me off as well. Unfortunately, we had 30 minutes of journey time left. Fuck. The reality of a family day out. Windows were rolled down as I frantically found emergency carrier bags and prayed to the heavens above!

Unscathed, we made it to the place. As a result of the drive, I tried not to hurl behind a nearby tree. Immediately, I was struck by the smell of molten shite. It permeated through quivering nostrils into eyes that were already starting to sting. Ball bags.

First stop was the obligatory mugging from the goats as we waddled through copious amounts of chicken shit. Grenade style, I launched my food bag into the middle of the raging, frothing at the mouth animals and made a swift exit towards the farm buildings. I definitely preferred the cinema for a family day out.

We hurtled into the pig styes but instantly surrounded by crap eating flies. The aroma and noise made me recoil and wretch. I was definitely not as happy as a pig in mud. Wall to wall filth, very similar to when toddlers decide to decorate their bedroom with the content of their nappies!

The little ones screamed with delight with all the different sights and sounds we were seeing whilst I was trying to keep my fricking breakfast down!

Even after all the trauma, I was having a great day with them. They were funny, enchanting and, most of all, really welcoming and friendly. I was still suffering with my nerves and desperately trying not to drop a F-bomb. Yet, the laughs and banter were soothing and carefree.

That is until we headed over to the soft play area. This was a new level of hell. Aromas mixed together in a heady scent of candy filled vomit, sugary pop and full nappies. Shoes and socks littered the sticky floor and created a trail towards a ball pit that was developing a new strain of e-coli.

Between ear piercing screams, head pounding yells and the stench of soiled underwear, it came close to navigating the worst hangover of my life. Bollocks.

Unfortunately, my order of chips landed in front of me followed by the rapid descent of a thousand flies. My plate was awash with barely cooked potato sticks and blue flying raisins. In all honesty though, I have probably eaten worse from a late-night burger van after a dodgy night out trolleyed up to my earrings!

However, there was a crucial difference. I was stone cold sober looking at food which moved of its own accord. It was not going to happen. Secret squirrel mode engaged, I hid the food in my numerous coat pockets. I would deal with that shit storm later.

The day started to draw to an end. We headed back to the car at a brisk pace when knobhead (we have been together for many years so I know how to be affectionate) piped up.

‘What are you doing later?’

I was lulled into thinking this was going to be a romantic sexy evening. What a tit!

‘My mum and sister are coming up and I wanted to know if you would like to meet them’.

Shite. Was he kidding me? I had just spent a nerve wrecking, pants wetting, no swearing day and he wanted me to then meet his family! Crap arse.

I wanted to down a bottle of my favourite red wine not meet part of a clan. So, in the worse fake voice ever, I replied.

‘Yes, of course, that would be lovely’.

Coward. What an absolute bell end. My anxiety shot through the roof but, then again, what was the worst that could happen?