This could quite possibly be my earliest childhood memory, or just my first memory of my hatred of snails. I know it must have been early in my life because there were mustard and brown striped curtains hanging in the lounge room, and if that doesn't scream 80's lounge room decoration I don't know what does.
Anyway - so I'm in this person's house with the bad tonal 80's curtains and probably matching brown carpet and matching brown couch (who was it that decided that the hue of the 80's would be poo brown???) and because I am a kid and kids are annoying they sent me outside to play with the Hills Hoist.
(hours of fun)
To be honest, a Hills Hoist can be fun - when you're swinging around on it and trying to fly.. for 15 minutes, then you get massive blisters on your hands and it ceases to be fun. This is when I noticed the army of encroaching snails that had completely cornered me and in my child's mind - were going to be the death of me.
Let me just make it clear. It wasn't just one or two snails surrounding me, it was about 200 snails. Snails might move slowly, but I looking back I think that is part of their game plan - they move so slowly that you don't notice them until you are up to your eyeballs in snails and are like "wtf did all these snails come from??"
I was too petrified to move. The snails had me cornered and they knew it. I just stood under the Hills Hoist screaming for someone to come and rescue me, but because I'm a kid and no one listens to kids so they just let me scream my petrified screams without taking any notice of me. I think eventually someone did stick their head out into the yard and saw me standing in a petrified motionless screaming state and told me to shut up and deal with the damn snails, because no one was going to come and rescue me and I would have to get out of the garden by myself.
How hard would it have been to walk over and rescue me? 10 seconds and you would have saved me a lifetime of emotional trauma related to snail phobia.
I eventually did get up the courage to escape from the labyrinth of snails, taking tiny steps and trying to desperately avoid stepping on one, because I was shoe-less and there is nothing worse than standing on a snail with bare feet.
I long for a world where all the grounds are salted and the invading snail army dies a tragic death and little girls are free to play in gardens under the stinkin Hills Hoist without the repercussions of tiny slimy alien grossness.
I hate snails.