Farmer Jack’s folly

Jack closed the kitchen door quietly, but his attempt at stealth had failed. Kitty was standing by the window with folded arms and tapping foot. “What’s in that trailer?” she snapped.

“Oh, hello, dear,” Jack puffed. “I’m just going to put the kettle on. Do you want something?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re up to.”

They sized each other up for a few seconds. Should he come clean now? Or was it better to wait until she had calmed down?

“I went to the auction in Stow,” Jack said at last. “Some really nice stuff, actually. Mostly too expensive for us. There was some lovely furniture, looked like it had come from …”

“What did you waste your money on?” snarled Kitty.

“Not much, really, dear. Just some … ornaments for the garden. I thought we could put them up near the road. It will amuse the schoolchildren as they walk past.”

Kitty’s eyes had narrowed. “Schoolchildren don’t walk past here, you old fool. It’s the A44. There’s no pavement.”

“Well, maybe we could open the farm at weekends, then.”

“Show me.”

Jack’s mind scrambled to think of an excuse. None came. Very slowly, he put his boots back on.

She followed him into the yard, watching him intently as he unhooked the tarp and pulled it back with a dramatic flourish and a weak “Ta-da!”

Kitty unfolded her arms and stared in bewildered disbelief at the contents of the trailer. For a second, Jack thought he might have got away with it. But then her eyes narrowed, her lips grew thin, and she turned to him so sharply that he thought she was going to hit him.

“You’ve got about ten seconds to explain what all this junk is for,” she said, “or you’ll be sleeping in the pigsty for a month.”

“I told you, dear. I thought we could open up the farm to the youngsters. They could come and pet the sheep, and that.”

Kitty was wearing the expression of a headmistress who had caught a mischievious schoolboy pulling a little girl’s hair, and who was quite prepared to wring a full confession out of him, no matter what.

“If they are here to pet the sheep,” she said, every word precise and cold, “then why have you bought a life-sized plastic castle?”

“That’s not just any castle,” he beamed. “That’s Snow White’s Castle, and it was very reasonably priced.”

“Oh, well then, excuse me,” she shot back. “I meant to ask, why have you bought a life-sized plastic Snow White castle?”

“I thought we could have a bit of a theme. Fairytales, like. The kids will love that.”

She gave a slow, exaggerated nod. “Yes, they will love petting a sheep in a plastic Snow White castle. Where is Snow White, anyway?”

Jack pulled the tarp back further. Despite herself, Kitty gasped. “Why is there a corpse in your trailer?” she hissed.

“It’s Snow White, dear. She just needs a lick of paint, that’s all. And,” he said proudly, “I’ve got the s- … I’ve got some dwarves as well.”

She stared at him so long that he started to shuffle and stutter.

“That’s – that’s not all, dear. Of course, it wouldn’t be fairytale-themed if it was just Snow White. I’ve – I’ve also got these other things.”

He peeled the tarp right back, and waited while she took in the other items in the trailer.

“Tell me, Jack,” she said, at last. “What fairytale is it that tells the story of two seahorses, two dophins, two octopuses, two mermaids, and a duck playing the guitar?”

“It doesn’t have to be an actual fairytale, dear. They can be wired up to the ‘leccy! They’ll be magical! These are genuine seafront illuminations from the prom at Folkestone!”

She exhaled and looked at the sky. Appropriately, it had started to rain on Jack’s parade.

“OK, Jack,” she said eventually. “I think you’ve lost your marbles, but this isn’t the first time, is it? That barn is full of old rubbish you’ve wasted your money on but don’t know what to do with, and I’m tired of telling you off about it. Here’s what we’ll do. Let’s split up the savings account. Take your half and invest it in your fairytale petting zoo. Build your plastic castle out by the main road.”

“You’ll help me?”

“No, Jack. I’ll take my half and invest it in something else. Something that might actually earn us some money for our retirement.” She eyed the lower field. “Maybe I’ll build a nice smart hotel and spa over there,” she mused, wistfully.

Jack felt a rush of emotion but failed to keep a straight face. I’ll show her, he thought. This will be the Disneyland of the Cotswolds. People will come from miles around to see the fairytale illuminations. I’ll build it, and they will come. I bet I can even get the Prime Minister to do the official opening ceremony.

Rather against the odds, he was right.

Illuminated duck playing the guitar
An illuminated, and possibly drunk, duck playing the guitar
Illuminated mermaid
An illuminated mermaid, whose sculptor spent a lot more time on her bottom than her face
Illuminated octopus and dolphin
Sea creatures from your nightmares

This is, of course, a work of fiction. Some of the text above has been exaggerated for comic effect … but only very slightly. In recognition of the fact that this is a functioning business and well-known tourist attraction, I have chosen not to explicitly identify it.

A toddler in Disneyland

Mummy says, “It’s your Big Birthday this year. What would you like to do? Shall we go away somewhere?”

“Oh, yes,” says Daddy. “I’ve had my eye on Sicily for a while. Imagine having a private villa with a pool. Imagine playing all day on the beach, even this late in the year, and then going home and drinking locally-produced Nero. We could go and visit Commissario Montalbano’s house by the sea, and the Temple of Hera, and all the castles and cathedrals. That’s what I’d like to do.”

… And that’s how we ended up booking a holiday to Disneyland Paris for Daddy’s Big Birthday.

Why would you take a toddler to Disneyland at all? Surely he’s too young to go on most of the rides? Surely he doesn’t recognise most of the characters? Surely he’ll get tired and have a tantrum? And surely he’ll never remember the experience, so why bother?

The selfish reason, of course, is that we go for the benefit of the adults in the party. But I’m not only certain that A did thoroughly enjoy it, but that he even remembers parts of it (when prompted by photos).

Disneyland goes well out of its way to be engaging for the whole family. For the older ones, it has an attention to detail – in its theming, ride design and overall visit experience – that far exceeds any UK attraction I’ve visited. Yet it is surprisingly inclusive for younger visitors. The vast majority of rides are suitable for a two-year-old. There is genuinely plenty to keep us all absorbed for days, and we didn’t feel that we were missing out by ignoring the very fastest, scariest rides.

It helped massively that we visited off-season. Waiting times for rides were rarely more than a few minutes, especially first thing. Our timing was dictated by the Big Birthday but it happily coincided with the changeover from Halloween to Christmas theming. Again, the attention to detail is superb, with individual rides adopting seasonal themes, as well as changes to the parks’ decor and parades. We were also lucky enough to experience A’s first fireworks display, which he loved. (At the end, he asked for more; it’s surprisingly difficult to explain the concept that the show is now over. But, at home, he now sometimes asks to look out of the window to see if there are any fireworks happening.)

Pumpkin decoration in the form of Mickey Mouse
Halloween decorations at Disneyland
Christmas tree and garlands featuring Mickey Mouse
Christmas decorations at Disneyland
Mickey offering Minnie a Christmas gift, with castle in background
Christmas at Disneyland

It is true that A did get very tired, and found it difficult to get to sleep from all the excitement and disruption (and possibly food). And I don’t think he understood the point of some of the attractions. But it’s also overwhelmingly true that he was as excited about the whole thing as we were.

Every visitor to Disneyland will enjoy exploring and building their own list of favourites; so, unlike some other reviews, I am not going to attempt to dictate what you “should” and “should not” do with a toddler. But I can tell you a few of our personal highlights and things we learned from.

We liked our transfer from the airport, via the so-called Magic Shuttle coach service. It took about an hour; we dropped off our bags at the hotel and went straight into the Park in time for the lunchtime parade.

We all liked the first ride we went on, Autopia, in which guests even as young as A can “drive” vintage sports cars around a track. We could tell immediately from his reaction that A was going to have a good time. We went straight from there to “flying” a rocket on the Orbitron.

A loved It’s A Small World, which we went on several times – perched on the edge of his seat, excitedly pointing out details. He loved the Mad Hatter’s Tea Cups, the Casey Jr. Circus Train, and many more. And he adored seeing Lightning McQueen and Mater in person, even though the live motor stunt show left him a bit cold.

Lightning McQueen and Mater characters
Lightning McQueen and Mater

There were a couple of rides in which A showed a little trepidation. On the Pirates Of The Caribbean ride, which opens with a stretch of darkness and growing sense of dread, he clung close to us at first; but he was soon asking to go on it again. And there is a Toy Story themed vertical drop ride in which he looked a little concerned as he ascended high above the Park; but as soon as he saw that we were enjoying it, it was enough to have him chortling with delight.

Some rides just bemused him. The Ratatouille ride is a technical marvel – best described as a trackless rollercoaster with huge cinema screens (for which, I have just learned from Wikipedia, the correct terminology is a Local Positioning System Trackless Dark Ride) – but he wouldn’t keep his 3D glasses on. And although he enjoyed steering the pods in Buzz Lightyear’s Laser Blast and shouting at the evil Emperor Zurg, he didn’t really understand the point of the actual lasers.

Yet he was also remarkably patient and brave when it came to some attractions. He sat attentively at the front on his own during the interactive Stitch Live! show, and even remained engaged through most of the Buffalo Bill dinner show, despite its long duration and despite being way past bedtime.

We liked our hotel – the Newport Bay Club. It’s smart, reasonably quiet (despite being huge), and has good facilities, including an indoor swimming pool that wasn’t too busy. It was a little stroll away from the Park entrances, but not too far; the pleasant lakeside walk was good for building excitement / calming down.

New England style building with illuminations
Newport Bay Club hotel exterior
Hotel reception
Newport Bay Club hotel reception

We didn’t like that our meal plan required us to have breakfast in the Park, rather than at our hotel – even though this meant an additional incentive for getting into the Park early. The organisation at the Videopolis venue was terrible, with long queues developing over the course of the morning, and the food options were very limited. But we did like having the meal plan overall, as it allowed us to try decent, themed restaurants in the Parks as well as dinner at our hotel. We learned that it’s really important to book in advance for any of the themed restaurants, but the reward is being able to step out of the crowds and into a swanky-looking art deco bistro, or a colourful Arabian-inspired café.

Art decor interior
Restaurant Des Stars
Arabian style interior with friendly tiger
Agrabah Café interior

Overall, we hugely enjoyed watching A’s reaction to new experiences and sensations, as well as seeing his confidence grow significantly over the course of a few days. He embraced certain rides and characters; was unfailingly polite to waiting staff and others (a two-year-old saying “merci beaucoup” unprompted is simply adorable); and was patient during queues and travel. We are looking forward to doing it all again one day soon.

In praise of the NCT Mums

This week, I gatecrashed the regular coffee catch-up of the Mums from our NCT antenatal class.

Listening to the labour “war stories” and the baby-rearing tips being shared, I was humbled. I realised that these eight young women may well be struggling with being parents for the first time, but they are nonetheless going to be excellent Mums. They have actively sought to be well-informed and well-supported, and I am certain that this will extend to the way they nurture, educate and raise their children.

In most human endeavours, to become an expert in a field – a surgeon, say, or a fighter pilot – requires years of study and thousands of hours of supervised practice. Being a first-time parent is like being handed a scalpel after a handful of medical seminars, with the additional challenge that your family and the whole of society is judging you on your technique and results.

The media today seems to be relentlessly anti-parent. Mothers are too often deemed selfish and demanding (or worse, lazy), raising feckless, entitled brats. This is absolutely not so for Ranja, Emma, Hannah, Lauren, Anna, Gemma, Tamara and Amy. They seek to learn, to do the best they possibly can, and to help one another. I hope they will continue to do so, and I hope all the Dads are as proud as I am.

Thanks are due to Costa Coffee at Gloucester Metz Way, who have been very accommodating and supportive of the group.

Updated to add: One common feature of parenting blogs seems to be the blogger’s feelings of inadequacy in comparison to all the other perfect pushy parents and their precocious offspring. So it’s also refreshing and heartening that the NCT Mums will readily share their failures as well as their successes. Mutual support, not one-upmanship.