We were greeted by Henry, a three year vet from the hell they call children's entertainment. Not so much a dreamy look in his eye more a thousand yard stare (you weren't there man, 50 ankle biters at 10 o'clock, another wave at the LZ 12, didn't know what was going on..) . Henry was a great bloke but years of abuse by over demanding parents and vile children had left him like an maltreated puppy, always trying to please. We were very grateful of his expert guidance throughout.
The little people came and so off to face painting they went. Apparently the legal age cut off is thirty eight and a half and since I'm thirty eight and three quarters I was just too old. I could have been batman otherwise.
The sound level at these places is always incredible. With no doubt long term damage (Hearing aid salesmen take note, you could work some sort of loyalty scheme).
The only thing left after an hour of screaming and running around was to feed the ravenous beasts all those highly "E" numbered food. Things which you normally you try to keep the small people away from, you gladly feed them at parties, dont ask I don't know why.
The cake, decorated by Sam was ritually slaughtered and put into ceremonial napkins ready for the party bags. Clutching balloons that no doubt would pop in their parents car on the way home, the little ones left the party room.
Finally sugar enriched tired children went home with the feeling all round that it had been a good gig.
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