I would screech to a halt, quickly extract the children and groceries, slam the doors and lunge towards the house gate, and with shaking hand, open and close it.
Sometimes a child or two would escape my grip, get away from the mad woman to relative safety within the home perimeter. I was determined to get over this obstacle and set a good example. So I took up running.
To start with, I met my running buddy out on the road, so would still drive through the bulls and park on the house side of the outer fence, meet her and jog off into the no-bull-zone. I needed to force myself to be a bit braver and walk through those mean old big boys.
My running buddy helped me out by collecting me at the house and walking with me out to the road, right through that bull paddock. I was petrified, which really helped my running stride.
The bulls barely glanced in my direction, carried on munching and before too long, I found myself plucking up the courage to go it alone. I can't say I was thrilled about it, and remember even nudging one along when it was in my way — now that was a moment.
Back to the present. Off for a lockdown walk last week, we found ourselves wandering along a pathway, not a care in the world, when lo and behold I spotted what I hoped was a moo cow mirage in the distance. It could have been anything really from where we were standing — maybe a cyclist or two beetling along, a family leaping about, even a horse with a person atop who could steer it out of our way.
The closer we got, the more obvious it became that this was no bike, family or horse. A herd of cows was on the track. Minding their own business, having a hearty lunch of prickles, weeds and grass.
Who was I to give them a second thought? Well my mind was now giving them several second thoughts, my heart was racing and I was trying to remember my old friends the bulls.
We could turn back, my helpful husband suggested. No, I would face my fear. As we drew closer and realised the herd was a mere half dozen or so distracted creatures eating and pooping, I found my inner I-love-cow woman and strode right on through, taking a wide berth to avoid back legs and raised tails.
With a renewed sense of empowerment, and ignoring the nagging thought we would soon need to about turn and repeat the process, we wandered further along the track, reminding myself I could indeed face a herd of cows head on and survive.
I haven't managed spiders yet.
