This place does a pretty good job of making you feel like a film star, albeit one with thrown-up Bickiepeg smeared down your top.
I’m still recovering from the Dickens degree module where we had to read one novel a week, so this was basically aversion therapy for me.
While Roro spent most of the session shovelling things into her mouth I’m pretty sure she got more out of it than a second breakfast of rainbow spaghetti and peas.
This incredible space comprises dipping ponds, a mud kitchen, play houses and loads more, with a large clubhouse-type building at its centre.
The entrance to Grow Wild is through this really cute little door that looks like a treehouse, which just instantly sparks joy.
I wanna dance with my kid – and when I say dance I mean wobble around awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact incase someone senses my discomfort.
I know it must cost a lot of money to preserve all this old crap, but they could at least put some effort into making a half-decent event.
I really enjoyed the way the adults were utilised, be it as horses or glorified skateboards for the kids to glide around on.
We were pleasantly overwhelmed by the variety of activities, from stop-motion animation and a make-up masterclass to pointe-shoe up-cycling and conducting.
Sticking three under-fours in an open-top boat with no one but ourselves to save them when we inevitably hit something felt like an empowering life choice.