I’ve never quite managed to find a public soft-play centre in London that doesn’t make me want to kill myself… until now.
The Moustache has a distinctly grown-up feel – it just happens to cater to grown ups who have children. And frankly, that’s the best kind of cafe I can think of.
I always feel slightly uncomfortable about members’ clubs and their keeping-out-the-riffraff vibes, so this felt like a nice, inclusive alternative.
Play cafes are the eternal saviour of the sleep-deprived adult-in-charge-of-a-small-person, but sadly the pandemic has kissed goodbye to/coughed all over a hefty chunk of our favourites.
I can’t abide an ugly soft play centre, but if it’s tastefully appointed with a muted colour palette, clean lines and the odd kitschy add-on I’ll gladly climb aboard.
I was half expecting to be digging up physical clues, but obviously that would be completely ridiculous and also it’s 2020, not 1952.
This particular day was so unbearably hot there was literally only about 10 minutes where at least one of us wasn’t crying or shouting.
Actually the kids loved it, because why wouldn’t they? No one had tried to sell it to them as a brasserie and member-centric family wellness spa.
I went along with being made to feel like I was really lucky for being granted entry when really I just wanted to tell her to shove it up her bum.
It sounds woefully irresponsible in hindsight but it almost felt like an end-of-the-world party.