I’m sick to death of mini golf. We exhausted it over lockdown when golf courses were the only remotely interesting thing that was still open.
Play
Home to what is honestly one of the best playground structures I’ve ever seen in my long and eventful playground-critiquing career.
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.
This could so easily have been just another generic soft-play centre, but the owners have clearly put a lot of thought into making it stand out from the crowd.
I always feel slightly uncomfortable about members’ clubs and their keeping-out-the-riffraff vibes, so this felt like a nice, inclusive alternative.
I would genuinely be more inclined to go if it was called Bertie and Boo’s Dystopian Nightmare (actually, that sounds awesome).
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.
Little Penguin opened back in January, in what was inarguably the worst moment to open a play cafe in the history of play cafes.
It was a not-so-lovely THIRTY-SEVEN DEGREES on the day we visited, which is literally the same temperature as a living person’s insides.
bablands.com 