This is what happened to me at the Cotswold Wildlife Park at the weekend while standing on the raised giraffe-viewing platform. The sheer magical magnificence of it was spoilt only by the lively argument I was having with another visitor over whether one was permitted to pet the giraffes. Ironically, I was the one maintaining that one shouldn’t, and so I was under strong moral obligation not to. Though I did want to, very much indeed.
I clearly remember a book from my early school-days called “Nobody Listens to Andrew”, with the leitmotif “There’s a BEAR in my bedroom!” (which all the adults ignore, of course.) I strongly empathised with that Andrew. You can still buy that book, I find.