I was half expecting to be digging up physical clues, but obviously that would be completely ridiculous and also it’s 2020, not 1952.
Hobbledown describes itself as an “adventure farm park”, but I feel like that almost downplays its brilliance.
They’ve been arranged in a smallish enclosure, almost like a dinosaur zoo, which makes it pretty hard to miss any and also pretty hard to lose any small children you might have with you.
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.
A brilliant Coronatime activity, given that it’s outside and easy to stay really far away from everyone.
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.
This was the first actual thing we’d done since mid-March and we’d basically forgotten what fun was.
Raising tiny Londoners wouldn’t be half as hilarious without all the family-friendly hangouts, independent kids’ shops and tailored-to-tots activities that we’ve all missed like crazy over these last few miserable months.
Big, bleak, beautiful and very zen, as long as you ignore the whinings of your bored three and a half year old who isn’t putting up with anymore of this “walking in nature” bullshit.