The Lion King with little monkeys

 IT was Dougie’s 12th birthday, and as an extraordinary treat, we all went to see the Lion King on stage in London’s West End.

It was a secret, kept for months, which none of the children were allowed in on, despite much begging and pleading. First rule of birthday surprise? No-one talks about birthday surprise.

For much of the run-up, the boys were convinced they were going to the Northampton Saints vs Leeds rugby match. It would have been a good day, especially as they won, and a treat, because it’s just too expensive for six of us to go more than once in a blue moon.

However, when we got them up early, and then pulled into the train station, they were properly confused. It was great. For once, we knew more than the kids.

All the way down they tried to catch us out: “So, what time do we have to be at the . . . what was it again?”

On the train, we ended up (standing) next to another family going to the West End to see The Wizard of Oz. Their girls knew, but as it was their first time on a train, and their first visit to London, they were already bouncing off the walls with excitement.

I know!” shouted Dougie, barely able to contain himself, “We’re going to watch Man U V Chelsea!”

That’s tomorrow,” reminded Bloke.

In the tube stations they watched carefully as we worked out which stops we needed, to see if it gave them a clue. It didn’t.

When we walked out at Covent Garden, the first thing they saw was a set of their grandparents, waving. Now they were really confused. Especially Bonnie. Why was Gang-Gang not at her house? And where was Toby, their dog?

Granddad told them we were going to have lunch, and let the first and only clue slip: “The restaurant’s down here, and it’s near the theatre.”

The boys were straight on it. “Is it Shrek? Is it Wicked?” We stayed tight-lipped all through lunch. The questioning continued relentlessly.

Billy was the first to really get it when we approached the theatre by a side road when he saw a poster. We actually got the secret almost to the door.

The show was amazing, well, what I saw of it. Bonnie decided that despite usually behaving on theatre trips, and a plethora of bribes, now would be the time to hop on and off everyone’s laps every few minutes, lie on the floor, kick the seats in front and shout loudly “Is that the BADDIE?”

When I gave her a whispered telling off, she started wailing and much to my embarrassment, an usher came to, well, usher us out until Bonnie calmed down. I watched the rest of the show from the back while Bonnie rolled about on the floor, laughing.

Thankfully, the birthday boy saw it all and loved it, and was delighted it had been a genuine surprise.

It ups the ante for next year though. Perhaps we can start saving for a Saints’ game next May . . .

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Three-year-old miss driving me crazy

WHEN you have four children, people might assume that you have the solution to all parenting issues. Maybe more so when you parade yourself each week in the pages of a newspaper as someone who writes about parenting issues.

The stark fact is that as a parent, you never really have solution to problems that your kids throw at you.

Children go through phases as they grow. Sometimes difficult, drawn-out ones that drive you to distraction, and often completely different from any sibling who may have arrived on the planet earlier.

You might know a few tricks from experience which help, but ultimately, there’s no magic wand; no fairy godmother. (Although our kids do have someone they call their “Fairy Godmother,” who lives abroad and visits with armfuls of exotic presents, massive hugs and doting attention).

Bonnie goes her own way

Bonnie is three-years-old. She’s the only girl, and the fourth child.

And at the moment, she’s driving me up the wall. Forget the ‘Terrible Twos’, it should be the ‘terrible twos-and-threes-and-possibly-even-fours.’

Most of the time, she’s funny, bright and adorable to be around.

Sometimes, she can be a naughty little madam.

And it’s true that all the boys had their phases. Tantrums, rudeness, fighting, back-chat and disobedience, yes, been there, seen that.

Bonnie seems to be totally immune to my methods. The boys were usually aware when they’d crossed the line. For Bonnie, half the fun seems to be in jumping over it. For Bonnie, it seems the words “No,” and “Don’t” are heard instead as “Go ahead, of course you can.”

The books will tell you that you shouldn’t use negative words around kids, but that’s no good when they’re balancing on top of a stool on top of a beanbag to try to climb up a bookcase, or have worked out how to remove screw-top lids on everything from sauce bottles to shampoo. When they constantly try to wriggle out of your grasp when crossing roads, or run off in shopping centres, it’s not just exhausting, it’s dangerous.

Perhaps it’s not the kids. Perhaps it’s me. Perhaps I’ve just forgotten how nerve-shredding, ear-splitting, panic-inducing, repetitive and knackering having pre-schoolers can be.

One thing I do know, from experience, is that the best thing is to grin and bear it until she grows out of it . . . and/or the next issue comes along to distract everyone.

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Abandoned baby from Bedford will just have turned 16

A LITTLE jolt as I was just clearing through an old chest – as I found the cuttings from a story I’d done about an abandoned baby.

Back in 1995, on April 9, a newborn baby girl was found abandoned in an outhouse in Kempston, just outside Bedford, where I worked as a junior reporter on the Bedfordshire Times and Citizen.

Nurses at the hospital named her April, and as far as we were aware, they didn’t find her mother. She was thought to be of mixed asian-white parentage and police suspected that her mum was possibly very young and from a strict family who would have dis-owned her had she revealed the pregnancy to them. Terribly, terribly sad.

The cutting from the Beds Times back in May 1995

I hadn’t had children myself at the time of reporting the story. To be honest, I’d forgotten all about it. Now I have four children of my own, I admit I had a lump in my throat reading the story back, wondering what happened to those involved.

Hopefully, baby April and her mum were re-united. Perhaps she went up for adoption and had a wonderful life with new parents who couldn’t have children of their own.

If she wasn’t ‘reclaimed’, I bet that there hasn’t been a day over those 16 years when that mother hasn’t thought about her baby and her agonising decision to give her up.

Happy birthday April, if that’s still your name. I hope you had a brilliant 16th party, and that life has dealt you a better hand than the one you started with all those years ago.

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A belated Royal Wedding post . . .

BONNIE was completely baffled by the Royal Wedding. But she liked being allowed to wear an array of princess dresses for a week.

She particularly liked the commemorative mug she was given by her nursery during three days of garden parties, crown-making and dressing-up. A nice touch, I thought, by her nursery, whose manager Debbie Hasson wanted the kids to have something as a keepsake like we parents had been given 30 years ago (my mother is the Keeper of the Mugs, including one for Charles and Di and the Silver Jubilee in 1977).

On the actual day of the wedding, our kids weren’t really in the mood to sit in front of the telly and watch some people they didn’t know get married.

But we made them anyway, muttering words like “history” and “day-off” at them.

They turned off the Xbox at 10.45am and within about 15 minutes, seven-year old Billy had taken himself off to bed with a high temperature and sore throat, missing the whole thing completely.

Bonnie kept changing her outfits like a demented Oscar-night hostess – starting with Cinderella’s Princess outfit and alternating it with Tinkerbell’s dress and a sparkly white fairy number. To Bonnie, the words “Princess” and “Fairy” are inseparable. I think she was disappointed that Kate didn’t sprout wings and fly off over Buck Palace.

No Boden-Yummy-Mummy-led street party for us. Far too disorganised. Instead we fed them sandwiches and strawberries and the remains of their Easter egg stash. By 2pm, the TV was back to shooting aliens and we returned to the mundane activities of a bank-holiday – a spot of housework and fixing broken things.

It will be years before they have another Royal Wedding holiday, but the next Bank Holiday is less than a month away, on May 30. We may go out.

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They trashed my house and now I have tip guilt

 THANK goodness. Back to normality. It’s been nice an’ all, but the kids have been at home for 21 of the last 25 days.

They are back to school for 20 days and then off for another week and a day for half term and teacher training. Tough life.

While they have been at home, everything has broken (including my resolve).

To steal the words of the Tall Dad from the TV show The Middle, “The only nice things in our house come here to break.”

The destruction tally over the past month is as follows:

The CD player in the boys’ room. (Wires to speakers inexplicably snapped).

The TV in the boys’ room which only plays DVDs (they put two DVDs in at once and broke the drawer)

An expensive all-wood chest of drawers in the boys’ room (several parts of slammed and over-stuffed drawers have had to be glued and nailed back in place)

My ‘office’ printer, (being used at the time to print out homework)

An Xbox headset (spun about by its wires)

The food processor (OK, so the motor burned out as I was too lazy to knead dough)

Two pairs of sunglasses (must have had faulty legs)

A TV remote (now held together with sticky tape) and

Both our knackered old cars (admittedly, the kids had nothing to do with the cars).

So without even going away anywhere, it’s been an expensive month, especially as the older two seem to go through a week’s worth of food in about a day.

One win though. Someone also broke my battered but beloved old Anglepoise lamp. I thought it was another candidate for the bin but thanks to the Internet, I fixed it by installing a complete new wiring kit bought online. Yes, me. I re-wired it. Even added a new plug.

A small survivor amidst the wreckage of the school holidays.

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It’s panto season (oh no it isn’t. . .)

It might be eight months until Christmas, but the theatres are already taking bookings for their Christmas pantomimes and seasonal shows.

There’s a newish addition to the venue list this year as the Core at the Corby Cube, managed by Royal & Derngate, will be offering its second season of seasonal, er, stuff .

It may feel odd, but now’s the time to book as there are usually early-bird discounts and panto tickets are notoriously expensive, especially if you have a stupid amount of children like I do.

Here’s the press blurb, stay tuned for more panto news. . .

“The Core is delighted to announce that this Christmas they will be presenting not one, but two, great family shows for Corby audiences to enjoy. One Snowy Night, from the popular Tales from Percy’s Park series by Nick Butterworth, can be seen from Tuesday 29 November to Sunday 4 December, and then CBBC’s Dan and Jeff present the hilarious Potted Panto from Wednesday 7 to Sunday 10 December

One Snowy Night is a wonderfully heart-warming winter’s story. Percy the Park Keeper always feeds the animals in the park where he lives. But one cold winter’s night, Percy finds his little friends shivering on the doorstep – they need more than food and he must find a way to help them. With delightful handmade puppets, an original soundtrack and dance, Nick Butterworth’s well-known and well-loved tale is brought to life in a magical show ideal for three to six-year olds.

The creators of Potted Potter and Potted Pirates, Dan and Jeff, perform seven classic pantomimes in just eighty minutes, in Potted Panto, their most extravagant show yet, in glorious 3D. In a madcap ride through the biggest stories and best-loved characters from panto, the dastardly double act dash from rubbing Aladdin’s lamp to roaming the golden streets of Dick Whittington’s London. Searching for Cinderella’s lost slipper, they try to wake Sleeping Beauty before the giant climbs down Jack’s beanstalk to squash Snow White’s seven dwarves.

Nominated for an Olivier Award for Best Entertainment after a successful West End run, Potted Panto is unmissable fun for all ages, from six to 106.

Tickets for One Snowy Night are priced from £8 to £12.50 and Potted Panto tickets are £8 to £13, with concessions for families, groups and schools. For more information or to book, call the Ticket Line on 01536 470 470 or visit http://www.thecorecorby.com.”

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Review – The Gruffalo’s Child, Royal and Derngate

A MUM took a stroll to the deep dark theatre – accompanied by a three-year-old and an 11-year-old (the seven-year-old was tucked up in bed ill and the 13-year-old decided he’s rather be ‘daan taan’ with his mates).

Copyright Macmillan Children’s Books

There was much excitement about the stage show of the children’s book, the Gruffalo’s Child, the sequel to the hugely popular Gruffalo which saw a mouse outwit a big hairy monster. The Gruffalo and the Gruffalo’s Child are repeatedly requested at bedtime in our house and we know the words off by heart.

We’d actually attempted to see the original Gruffalo on stage at a festival last summer and had given up due to the huge crowds. The best place to see theatre of this kind is definitely in a small theatre.

The Gruffalo’s Child sees the eponymous heroine sneaking away from Dad into the deep dark wood to find if the Big Bad Mouse really does exist.
The show at Northampton’s Royal & Derngate was really very good, exactly as children’s storytelling should be, but I think the weather and the Royal Wedding may have had an effect on ticket sales as it was far from full. Surprising for such a popular book and well-thought-out production.

Not necessarily the cast we saw, but the only pictures available. Oh and they are Copyright Geraint Lewis

The script sticks fairly close to the original story but to duplicate it would make it considerably shorter than an hour (I can whip through a bedtime story in about four minutes), so there’s additional dialogue and songs.

The cast of three were excellent, particularly Yvette Clutterbuck as the G’s child, who bounds around the stage like a demented Kathy Burke in Perry the Teenager mode, getting the laughs, the bravado and the vulnerability just right. It’s a very physical piece of theatre, and she must have been boiling in her costume, purple prickles and all.

Our 11-year wasn’t sure if the Narrator/Mouse was actually meant to be the Mouse, as he said her costume wasn’t ‘right’, but she drove the pace of the  show along well.

The Gruffalo Dad was immobile due to the constraints of the costume on set, and Bonnie wanted to see him stomp about. We were confused by the Snake, who didn’t seem in the slightest bit snake-like. Half the fun of the snake is the alliterative dialogue of his ‘s’ sounds. This snake was portrayed as Bruno from Strictly Come Dancing. Eh?

Copyright Geraint Lewis

 However, The Owl and the Fox were marvellous, and the song and dance routines between the three actors went down a storm. Perhaps surprisingly, our 11-year-old was more captivated than his three-year-old sister. She was just too fidgety when the dialogue strayed too far from what she knew. She did, however, literally dance in the aisles, and both kids loved the use of ‘Stick Man,’ who we’d never really noticed in the book.

Oh, and after the merchandise overload of Peppa Pig Live, I didn’t see any parental mugging at The Gruffallo’s Child, as I think Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler, the original authors, are quite strict about it.
We did get a ‘Souvenir Postergramme’, with a picture on one side and the cast info on the other, which I thought was a great idea.

The Gruffalo’s Child is certainly worth seeing if in your area. It’s a loving re-creation of the book and has an intelligence about it which is sadly lacking in many other ‘branded’ productions aimed at the under-tens. Getting theatre right for this age group is essential for the future of live performance.

The show is still touring at the following venues:

May 2011
05-06
 Rhodes Arts Complex, Bishops Stortford
07-08 The Capitol, Horsham
11-12 Assembly Hall Theatre, Tunbridge Wells
13-14 The Broadway Theatre, Peterborough
17-19 The Courtyard Theatre, Hereford
20-21 North Wales Theatre, Llandudno
24-25 New Theatre Royal, Portsmouth
28-29 Dorking Halls, Dorking
31 West Yorkshire Playhouse (The Quarry Theatre), Leeds

June 2011
01-04 West Yorkshire Playhouse (The Quarry Theatre), Leeds
08-11 Theatre Royal, Plymouth
16-18 The Swan Theatre, Wycombe
19-20 Buxton Opera House
24-26 The Rose, Kingston
27-29 The Orchard, Dartford

July – 01-02 Yeovil Octagon

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Should you let a 13-year-old go to a 15-year-old’s party?

WE’D been deliberating for weeks, trying to decide whether or not to let 13-year-old Jed go to a 15th birthday party for one of his friends. Not an all-nighter or anything, but at village hall disco until 11pm.

We had an ideal opportunity to stop him going when he got a less than favourable school report. But we ended up letting him ‘earn back’ the right to go with immaculate homework and behaviour.

Like many parents, I imagined the worst. Alcohol sneaked in, over-amorous teens and sick everywhere.

Actually, it was all fine, everyone behaved and her mum and dad were there.

Note to self: not all teenagers are as horrible and devious as you were.

Second note to self: the parties are only going to get worse. . .

Third note to self: the story about the 15-year-old who died at a party broke the day after Jed had been to his. . .

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Six go to Drayton Manor – to try out Ben 10 coaster

SO how’s it been with the kids for the last fortnight then? Come on, it would have been much worse if the weather hadn’t been so good. It’s been April, for goodness sake.

We managed to get some days off work and tick a few ‘done’ boxes while school was out, including general slobbing and a theme park.

Theme parks can be pretty unbearable and expensive places, and the prepared parent will need to do their homework to avoid any tears, especially their own. Look for vouchers, two-for-ones and pack your own drinks for starters.

We returned, after an absence of several years, to Drayton Manor Theme Park, up the A5 in Staffordshire. It should have taken about an hour to get there, but the weather and hideous traffic jams extended the sweaty car experience to two hours.

We were there for the opening of Ben 10 – Ultimate Mission, a ‘junior’ roller-coaster for anyone over one metre tall.

Ben 10, for the uninitiated, is a TV cartoon character kid, who finds a weird watch called the Omnitrix, which turns him into ten different alien superheroes.

Billy with Ben 10 friends

None of our boys are particularly ‘into’ Ben 10, but Billy, being seven and a boy, hits the target demographic perfectly. Jed and Dougie aren’t sure whether they like scary rides or, like their Dad, they feel no desire whatsoever to go on them, ever.

The ride, for coaster-nerds, is a ‘boomerang’ style, with a spiral thingy in the middle. You get dragged slowly up one side, backwards, then fired at speed through the twisty bit and up the other side. Then you do the same thing, only backwards. You never turn upside down.

Unlike the queue, the ride lasted a grand total of 45 seconds.

Billy was quite pleased with it as it was fast enough to be scary. The elder two said it could have been longer, but thought it was a good first step between a kiddie-coaster and the bigger, more height-restricted rides. (Beware the parent-trap of the strategically-placed Ben 10 shop next door).

To pacify the disgruntled Bonnie, who wasn’t impressed to be told she was too small for some rides, we headed next to Thomas-land, a section of the park devoted to Thomas the Tank Engine. This is truly a hideous experience, where you will find hundreds of literally pushy parents, ramming each other with buggies and forgetting all manners.

The queues were very long, confusing and overlapping, and we waited an hour and half in the sweltering heat for a roller-coaster Bonnie was just tall enough to go on with me, called Troublesome Trucks. It was pretty fast and high enough to scare her on the first circuit, but by the second she was shouting “go again, again!” and refusing to get off.

As well as several rides and play areas, there’s also a new Thomas exhibition set away from the main area where they have sets from the TV series.

Thankfully the boys are well past their Thomas phase and Bonnie could be bribed away with promises of ice-cream and zoo animals.

I always find it a little odd to find a zoo in the middle of a theme park, but it stems back to the 1950s when most parks like these consisted of just a few fairground rides and an animal enclosure. This zoo has plenty of monkeys and penguins, snakes and birds, but Bonnie demanded a tiger and luckily she saw two.

The sun was scorching by now, and we had another hour and a half wait in the heat for the rubber dingy rapids, or Splash Canyon, which we were all able to go on together, but wasn’t really very splashy at all.

Yes, this is a ride

However, after another hour’s wait for the much more scary-looking Stormforce 10 water ride, I thoroughly embarrassed my two eldest sons by producing – and wearing – a waterproof cape. I’d seen just how wet and shivering others had been getting off and wasn’t going to let the matter of looking a prat get in the way of my comfort.

Needless to say, the boys, in jeans, got COMPLETELY drenched, like they’d been dunked in a bath, while I was smug and dry.

Theme park food can be a complete rip-off, but there were pizza/pasta, burger/chicken and a very good pie and mash shop, with meals about £5 per head. The loos are rather aged, and parts of the park are clearly due for a makeover, but they are planning more changes.

One major complaint for Drayton Manor: no wait-time indicators. Most attractions now have these at various points in the queue which helps enormously when you have children who suddenly announce they need the loo. Other than that we all had a really enjoyable, surprisingly row-free day.

And by hanging around until after 5pm, there were no queues at all when Dougie bravely offered to come on the massive Shockwave stand-up roller-coaster with me. Whooo!

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