Tankfest

When I heard that Have a Lovely Time was looking for someone to review Tankfest and the Tank Museum I jumped at the chance.  Even now I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking.  No, I remember, that both TB and the husband would love it.  I just thought it had potential to be interesting.

We started out early on Sunday morning, armed with a packed lunch, plenty of water and sun cream.  Google thought the journey would take almost two hours.  Past experience told me that three quarters of the journey could be done in an hour so I guessed an hour and a half.  What I’d forgotten was that awful traffic that hits around Rownhams.  Yeah, three hours was more like it.  Three hours stuck in that oven of a car with no air con.  We were more than a little roasted by the time we finally arrived.

We pulled into a field turned car park manned by some young lads wearing combats and TB was immediately taken with excitement.  “Marines!”  Erm no.  Cue the husband trying to explain the difference between the various armed forces before TB really managed to insult someone.  It wasn’t a long walk down to the museum but it wasn’t entirely practical either; our monster truck three wheeler buggy coped with the dusty bridleway pretty well but it was still a bumpy ride for Mr A.  The track was quite thin in places which wouldn’t have been a problem if the traffic was all going in one direction; as it was more than a few teenagers felt the need to try and shove the buggy off the path.  Our feet were filthy once we reached the road but at least it was only dust.  Had it rained in the few days before though, it would’ve been a different story.

Lunch was first order and whilst I fed Mr A, TB tried to make up his mind whether he’d rather eat or play on the mini zip wire.  Yeah, the park won out.

Whilst the displays were on hold over lunch we decided to take a look at the museum.  Despite being a massive warehouse-style building and having no apparent air con it was quite cool inside.  The tanks were absolutely crammed in but there was still plenty of room to manoeuvre the buggy around.  It did mean there was a lot of information to take in and I think after a while TB was more interested at looking rather than learning, but then at six years old, I wouldn’t expect his patience to stretch as far as reading every info board anyway.  The husband did a good job of giving him an easily digestible run down of each tank.

Now here’s the thing.  Although the husband and TB were having a whale of a time, after about the sixth tank they all seemed pretty much the same to me.  I’d have loved to spend my time wandering from tank to tank, taking in the details and the history.  Instead I was pushing the buggy, trying to get Mr A to sleep, and chasing after the boys as they raced around trying to cram everything in.  In my opinion, the Tank Museum has a lot to offer, but it shouldn’t be rushed.  There’s lots of side activities and info for kids to look at; interactive mini-displays showing things like how to aim a tank’s gun and fire when you can’t see.

Once the worst of the lunchtime heat had passed we headed back outside to the arena to watch some of the displays.  The arena is basically a large patch of grass surrounded by a moat (for want of a better word), chalk barrier and then a grass seating area.  On one of the hottest days this year so far it was perfect to sit on, but like that path down to the museum, if it had rained recently it wouldn’t have been much fun.  Also, because there was no seating, it was difficult to position the buggy without blocking the view of the other spectators.  We gave up in the end and parked Mr A by the barrier whilst the husband took photos and I slathered on more sun cream.

Despite the prospect of seeing tanks in action, the limited view for TB and the wait between vehicles whilst we listened to the history aspect was too much to keep his attention and we decided to take a look around the displays.  This was where the words living history really came to life.  Of course the baking heat did it’s best to prevent the re-creation of a WWI trench but TB was still fascinated with what it was and why it worked.  It was a good chance to get up close and talk to people who really knew their history; here were the real enthusiasts.  They could also be found amongst the stalls and if I hadn’t been there to stop them TB and the husband would probably have brought home and assortment of aged combat gear, rifles and a gas mask.

We had a fab day out and TB and the husband are already planning next year’s trip.  Next time though I won’t be the one holding the baby.