In praise of Lego

Not that Lego......real Lego. Birders, tchah! No, real, actual plastic Lego - bricks, plates, tiles and bars. The toy of champions, and I love it. Yes I still play with Lego, and I'm not ashamed. It's one of the principal reasons I had children actually, so that I needn't come across as all weird and nerdy. Consequently, rather than in spite of, we have a lot of Lego in the house. Seriously loads. For instance there's a Lego Mos Eisley in the front room that measures a good 4 feet by 4 feet, and has seen many years of love despite it being a wretched hive of scum and villany. But we have nothing on some people, oh no. This weekend the kids and I went to Brick 2014, a Lego exhibition at Excel populated by dysfunctional dweebs amazingly talented grown-ups.

We were blown away. The dedication of these people is sensational, I thought I was committed to some of the things I enjoy. I have nothing on these guys, nothing. I am a pale imitation, my particular brand of OCD a mere shadow of what it could be. This is obsession on a whole new level, these guys would make amazing twitchers if it ever occured to them. Anyone remember this famous National Geographic cover?

What about Westminster Abbey?


I could go on and on. Three hours passed in a blur, especially the final thirty minutes when I lost a child. Some free advice for any other parents out there - monstrously large exhibitions are not the place to lose a ten year old boy. Of course we hadn't arranged a meeting point if we were separated. Or any kind of scenario planning whatsoever. All of a sudden he's nowhere to be seen, in a room the size of a football field populated by thousands of small people his exact size. Parenting fail. I got him back of course, wasn't worried for a moment, ahem, but FFS. But back to the Lego, I want to give up work, downgrade my house to a bungalow somewhere, and purchase half a million bricks, there to spend the rest of my life building the most amazing dioramas in the hope of being invited to sit behind railings in huge exhibition halls being admired by loads of kids. And their dads....

Here's a selection, including birds so that I can keep this blog resolutely on topic! 

 

The Easter Holidays so far

Number of disputes: 23,872
Cumulative minutes on Naughty Step: 425
Tears (litres): 152.2
Balls lost: 8
School Runs: 0

The last statistic is by far and away the most important. No School Run = A W E S O M E. Life without the school run is just so much more pleasurable. The School Run isn't just the fifteen minutes it takes to travel to the school, it's the whole shebang. Getting up. Getting them up. Breakfast. Clearing up breakfast. Finding clothes within Mt Garment and getting dressed. Remembering EVERY OBJECT KNOWN TO MAN that will  be needed at school that day. Coats on, shoes on, bags packed. OK, are we ready? Right, out the door. Alarm set (for all burglars reading). Oh, we have collectively forgotten: string, cardboard, flashcards, instrument, PE kit, a fish costume, book, random object. *sigh*. OK, unlock door. Turn alarm off. Disarm crossbow trap (for all burglars still reading) , find string, cardboard, flashcards, instrument, PE kit, fish costume, book, other stuff. Repeat several times. Ready? Seatbelts on, off we go.

The whole process takes about two hours and is the worst part of my day by a country mile. It can be done in less time, I think my record is about 52 minutes from waking up to depositing children, but we forgot the string, cardboard....

Not needing to get to school, indeed not even needing to get up at all, is nothing short of superb. This holiday is particularly long. We have the regular two weeks plus weekends. Then there is a Bank Holiday, then an utterly gratuitous "inset day", the nightmare of working parents everywhere, so that teachers can take advantage of cheaper return flights. Then we have a ridiculous two days back at school, when I predict that about fifty percent of children will mysteriously be ill, Friday off for the Royal Wedding, another weekend, another Bank Holiday, and then school starts again - by which time it will be about August I expect.

So to say that we (I) am having a rather relaxed time at the moment is understating it somewhat. The holiday can last for three months, you won't find me complaining. I may need to referee an almost infinite number of trvial arguments between offspring, but it's still preferable to the daily School Run. The children are enjoying it too, and are taking each day at their own pace. Middle child in particular is taking full advantage of not needing to get up, and is just not getting up. The days when I could sleep for thirteen hours straight are unfortunately long gone, I am quite envious.


So let me run you through today. We all managed to get up by about 8:30, and also managed to make the mid-morning dentist appointment without being interrupted by a rare Plover. After that we made a quick trip into deepest darkest Essex so that the kids could add Woodchat Shrike to their lists (always go see Shrikes, rule #162), and were home in time for lunch. Then we watched Fantasia, with top honours going to Mickey Mouse as the Sorcerer's Apprentice, following which we made a very cool Lego spaceship, and then played with it a lot. The kids amused themselves for a bit while I made dinner - stir-fry, well received - and then it was bed time. Easy.

 
Tomorrow, the plan is that there is no plan. Can't wait!

Bricks

As well as popping into Canary Wharf to see how the world of high finance is getting along (badly, it would appear), I have also been to Legoland for Muffin's birthday. There is so much to say about Legoland, most of it derogatory. Miniland though is superb. As the name implies, it has scale models of many historic and well known buildings and scenes. London is particularly impressive, with Big Ben, St Paul's Cathedral and Buckingham Palace to name a few. A shame they didn't have a Canary Wharf, but I'm sure they'll get round to it. Truly excellent, with loads of hidden gems, and incredible attention to detail. Bridges open and close, trucks drive along, ships sail around canals, wind-turbines spin, cable-cars travel up and down fibre-glass mountains. Simply astounding. I could have spent hours here, but the boys wanted to move on.

Fond memories

They didn't have any rust-coloured bricks

The rest of the park sucks. Over-crowded, absurdly long queues for generally pathetic rides, inept and sullen teenage staff, and woeful access. And all for a price tag that makes you weep. A family of four would pay £130 to get in for the day, and then get assualted with an insane number of extra opportunities to spend money once they're in the park. You would think that with such a stunning entrance fee, everything beyond the threshold would be free. Nope. If you want to be able to avoid standing in queues all day watching your money disappear as you shuffle along, £10 per person. If you want to go on a bungee thing, £5. If you want a photo of yourself at the end of the 18 second Dinosaur Ride, £6. The list could go on and on. And that is before you have set foot in any of the junk-emporiums, evenly spaced every 12 feet along the entire network of paths. Hungry or Thirsty? The food and drink is all free! Just kidding! At the exit to the park there is a Berkshire County Court building made out of Duplo where you can declare yourself bankrupt; they have thought of everything.

Still, Muffin and his two friends enjoyed it, and that was the sole aim. I'm not stupid, I went fully aware that it was going to be dimsal, and an appalling rip-off. He went thinking it was going to be the most magical experience (besides birding) of his young life, and that is what he got. Actually the fireworks at the end were pretty damn good, I enjoyed those, although a cretin next to me was heard to comment "Wow, these are amazing, they must have cost a fortune!".


We won't be heading back in a hurry; I doubt this will be a problem for the continued viability of the place, it was rammed. What I draw from this is that the British public are immensely stupid. I am immensely stupid. Don't get me wrong, Lego is a stunning toy, brilliant even. Infinitely creative, instructive, stimulative, and teaches so many things from dexterity through to use of persective. I loved it, my kids love it. Legoland is therefore highly exploitative, a study in how to cynically extort money from the parents of children who live and breathe Lego, and I think that is unethical and wrong. Can I have my money back, or should I write another glowing review first?

Larus michahellis var "acrylonitrile butadiene styrene" Plastic, therefore not tickable.