Diary of a Wine Writer

It is the second day of Lily’s 5th birthday celebration weekend.

Today, we have booked the “Little Angels” activity centre just outside Guildford, a multi-tired maze of multi-coloured slides, tubes, swings and bridges, a labrynth in which your cherubs can run riot without a care.

It does not get off to a good start.

Daisy falls asleep in the car, so I take Lily inside whilst Tomoko waits for her to wake up…which she doesn’t. I enter with birthday girls and have to restrain Lily from hurtling herself into the maze, urging her to wait for her 14 friends, 13 girls and 1 lucky boy to arrive. The invitees arrive at 2pm and they are allowed to enter the maze. We hardly see Lily for the next 90-minutes, lost in one of the inner chambers, conducting powwows with her hyper-ventilating friends, almost dizzy with excitement.

Daisy is more tentative and I have to hold her hand as together we enter what I can only describe as bedlam. Lord of the Flies has nothing on this. In particular, the boys are going wild, running around without the remotest care for whoever gets in their way. One mangy kid grabs my arm and twists it round…just to see the time on my watch. Hey…just ask me. He is obviously nurturing thug-like tendencies for his career as either a drug dealer or a politician and spends most of the time sending innocent children half his age and size, scattering in fear for their lives.

Even more unforgivable is a thirtysomething man sporting a lurid bandana, several superfluous metal piercings and army slacks. He looks as if he has just come from a Tribal Gathering rave circa 1992, leaping around like a gorilla trying to be ultra-cool and down with the kids, man.

The kids?

The kids are between the ages of 4 and 7. He has patently necked a bucket-load of ketamine and is showing off his atheletic prowess to his two impressionable, wayward sons who have no idea that a bandana on a 30-year old looks completely naff. I spend most of the time with Daisy, squeezing myself through tubes and foam-padded rollers, almost wedging myself permanently between them, patently not designed for my middle-age spread.

Daisy gains her confidence after a while, even if she screams in terror every time a pack of boys rampages past. I think she would rather be dressed in her pink chiffon Sleeping Beauty dress serving imaginary cups of tea.

At 3.30pm, we are ushered into a side-room for Lily and her friends to sit down for their Manchurian feast of chicken nuggets and chips. It is only after 10 minutes that we realize that nobody knows who the ginger boy seated between Lucy and Kiera is, the interloper munching away through the nuggets that I have paid £7.95 for. I kneel down and ask his name and what he is doing here?

He tells me that he is part of Alex’s party.

I tell him that this is not actually Alex’s party, but Lily’s.

Nothing seems to register and he continues munching blithely away.

So I tell him to look around…there are 13 girls…he is at a little fairy girl’s party.

Emasculation does the trick and the horror dawns upon him. I lead him outside to see if his mother is around but he just runs off. Five minutes later, I spot him bawling his eyes out, possibly scarred for life.

Blowing out the candles. Deep breath now...

Upholding birthday tradition, a cake is proffered (£12.95 from M&S), the lights are dimmed and we sing Happy Birthday before Lily blows out her candles. Then a member of the Little Angels team informs me that they ran out of girls’ party packs and offers the boys’ one, featuring the Incredible Hulk. I show it to Lily and her expression simply says: forget it, go and get a refund.

At the end of the day, everyone has had great time, both adults and children, who have expended more energy in one afternoon that they do in a whole week. In the evening, I work and take a break to watch Wallander with Kenneth Branagh. Each episode, I deploy my detective skills to spot the killer, but unfortunately I have been completely wrong each time. I have no luck this time either. If I were a Swedish detective I would have arrested an innocent woman who eventually falls in love with the hero. I make a mental note never to pursue a career as a Swedish detective.

Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: | lily's birthday, little angels, wallander