Given some of the previous play-centres we've tried, our hopes weren't nececelery that high, but we decided to give it a go and after the habitual routine of picking up, arguing over who would sit in which seat, general overfamiliarity and personal space issues, programming the irritating satellite lady, ignoring her, getting lost, driving around in circles, exploring car parks, locating the place, and then finally arriving, we finally arrived.
We found ourselves, after negotiating entrance, in a vast shed which was clearly a sports hall with games courts or pitches or whatever fenced off from one another. The closest was repurposed as our play area. There were not boat loads of inflatables. There were a couple of bouncy-bouncy-castle thingies along with lots of toys which were in reasonable condition. And a cafe.
The cafe was pretty good as it happened and, fuelled up, we spent a couple of pleasant hours there messing around with stuff and playing with stuff and stuffing around with stuff. For some reason the proprietors, actually having punters playing with stuff, felt the need to put some kiddy music on the PA. Frankly it had been much more pleasant before they did that, by I didn't have the heart, or the balls, to do that; strange really as balls were in plentiful supply.
Afterwards, sleep eluding the sproglets despite the gently ministrations of Mazda, we visited a little playground of my acquaintance with Lyra and Georgia demonstrated the bountiful benefits of tea work, with Lyra pushing her little chum on the spider-web swing of simple harmonic motion, before sampling the delights of the water spigot and soaking herself from the knees down, heralding the end of the, as usual, amusing day.
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