I remember when I was aged 9-12 in many years when we we went on holiday e.g. North Africa my Dad would make a point of finding local catacombs for us, me, me Mum and me younger sister to visit. Usually with a potentially dodgy guide wielding an oil-cloth torch.
Strangely it used not to freak us out, the piles of skulls etc. Maybe he was doing us an oblique kindness. Or maybe we were just bored.
[And TBF I'd rather be in a mass grave for a few mo's than the last minutes vs Wolves].
Did your Mum and Dad used to take you on dubious holiday visits?
Strangely it used not to freak us out, the piles of skulls etc. Maybe he was doing us an oblique kindness. Or maybe we were just bored.
[And TBF I'd rather be in a mass grave for a few mo's than the last minutes vs Wolves].
Did your Mum and Dad used to take you on dubious holiday visits?