Today I went to visit an old friend from University to have a catch-up and enable our children to have a long-overdue play date. We arrived just before lunchtime, had a lovely couple of fairly peaceful hours together chatting whilst my friend got on with the usual necessary domestic chores, and after a light lunch she invited me and the children along to a local indoor soft-play area. Apparently, another mutual friend who I hadn't seen for a while was also going. So, after lunch we all tootled off in convoy through the summer storms and drizzle to the ironically titled "Funworld".
Having not been for a while, "Fun" would probably be the last adjective I'd use to describe the place when I eventually got in there today. The place was as humid and damp inside as it was out, owing to the play area being homed in a metal warehouse at the back of an industrial estate. There were hot sweaty little bodies running around like dwarves on ecstasy, squelching and occasionally sticking to the condensation on the equipment. The deafening, excitable screams were difficult to distinguish between those of delight, pain or terror of possible asphyxiation due to lack of oxygen. However, on a microcosmic level, "world" was probably a more accurate word to use, owing to it's over-population and the fact that there wasn't any bottled water to buy. That didn't deter people from queueing for a drink though, clamouring like refugees waiting for an aid truck.
Parched and panting for a drink, any drink, eventually the front of the counter was in sight. What I found on offer instead of water were luminous bottles of those toxic-tasting "fruit juices" that scream "NO ADDED SUGAR" & "NATURAL INGREDIENTS". When I turned the bottle over to see the ingredients there were so many scientific-sounding chemicals added I felt I needed a Latin dictionary and a medical degree to know if it really was fit for human consumption. Either way, it seemed to have the power of a class A drug judging by the amount of bouncing, kicking, running, sliding, jumping, screaming, punching, kicking, crying and sweating I saw today.
In contrast to the tropical temperatures of the building however was the positively icy reception and reluctant assistance of the teenage catering staff, who evidently would prefer to have been at the tanning salon. Their matching orange skin tones were a particularly nice touch by way of a uniform, as was their neatly tied back hair extensions. When being served by them, their sneers and the curl of their lips dripped loathing as they handed over ice creams and drinks. I can't help but assume that Funworld's owners took their "family-friendly" accreditation seriously and that this must be a "family" business - why else would you employ hormonal, miserable teenage girls and their friends? I happened to chance upon a snippet of conversation between two members of staff in which one girl asked the other "What time do you finish?" "In an HOUR!" she almost screamed, verging on hysteria and disbelief, before tutting and shaking her mane as if to transport herself, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, back to the Balearic holiday she was probably on last week.
Luckily for me, my friend had found seats. Not that she got to sit on them much, chasing her youngest about in order to avoid injury from some of the bigger boisterous children. My eldest ran off to explore and play - disappearing for a time then coming to check I was still where he'd left me. I sat making polite conversation with the other mums, in snippets, nodding in hopefully appropriate places because I couldn't hear a damn thing, and waiting on tenterhooks for my sons screams of agony from some mishap or other. Sadly, my child, whilst incredibly lively, has the co-ordination of a crane fly and appears to be the reincarnation of Norman Wisdom. Thankfully, we escaped with little more than a banged arm and another bruise on his shin to add to his collection.
Despite the discomfort of the place, the children had a fantastic time and it was great to have those snippets of adult conversation, in between my friend chasing after her two year old and me struggling with a writhing 18lb 7 month old (who evidently wanted to join in with the other kids despite the fact he can't even crawl forwards yet). We managed two and a half hours before my sweaty four year old, in desperate need of a hair cut to decrease his core body temperature by a few degrees, bounced himself to exhaustion on the trampoline. And despite the amount of children, there were only two accidents which thankfully didn't require any trips to A&E. We all came home happy, tired and in desperate need of a cool bath! ;-)
