Rollercoasters, Furry Friends & Crazy Kids…join us on our adventures to infinity and beyond!!
02/02/2025
What to do? What to do?…winter is a quiet time for theme parks, well theme parks in the UK anyways (pathetic). According to a completely reliable, 100% not made up source; UK theme parks back in the early 90’s used to work year round…a hive of activity in the winter months with the stoic British public favouring a ball tingling winter chill over the ball sweltering heat of the summer. Children and parents alike were hurtled through blizzards and tornados (well amber wind warnings) 100’s of feet in the air whilst ice rained down upon the foolhardy park goers gagging for the peak adrenaline rush only matched by an random Monday night soap opera cliffhanger. It seemed foolproof and quite the money maker…all until the 1999, where instead of money raining down, snow fell, temperatures plummeted and caused a ride malfunction, ceasing the stop mechanism… riders in the now defunct unnamed for legal reasons park were subjected to (and this is no exaggeration) roughly 10,015 consecutive loop-de-loops. Rumour is, by the time the well trained, not at all seasonal teenage staff finally managed to find the emergency stop button, the riders damage was already done, and the poor riders are still spinning to this day, destined to spend a lifetime in a tortuous twister. Damn, the subpar British weather had fu**ed it up for the lot of us…and ever since, UK theme parks only operate between March and November; well for the good rides anyways…CBeebies Land still reigns supreme, and Postman Pat takes his mantle of ‘King of Alton’…for 4 months at least.
Like I said…100% definitely not made up at all.
All this to say…this year, we’ve already been to a Zoo (I like Zoo’s, but not their biggest fan in Baltic conditions two consecutive weeks), and my imagination basically runs out past Zoos and Theme Parks, so bu**er it…lets do some shopping!!!
I’ll try to keep the over-embellished ‘truth’ to myself for the rest of this entry…maybe, let’s see how it pans out.
Yes, so with Florida firmly in our sights (🎶21 days to go🎶…anyone else read that in the stylings of the early naughties garage legends??…you know who they are), we’ve opted for a more chilled out, not travelling half the country for a change day out. To be fair, I needed a more chilled out day after being in Glangwili until the early hours securing the nectar of the Gods for Alaska…Comoxiclav; bloody brilliant 😞. All good though, let’s get a move on; I’ve already digressed more than usual.
Yes, so with jealousy filling my veins with thanks to Deb and Chris’ nifty new shelving system, we’re off to a place where ‘Cloudy with a chance of Meatballs’ is an actual weather pattern and the children grow up constructing cheaply made, mass produced furniture (I have either a Santas workshop vibe or a child labour camp vibe in my mind; hoping you all imagine the former). The land where once upon a time, we fleeced an over zealous company for a stack of chairs due to poor decision making on the store CEO’s behalf. We’re off to (I feel I’m building this up way too much)…IKEA!!! Disney for Swedes and basically anyone wanting a try before you buy experience of furniture…not the toilets though; don’t poo in the toilets. Common sense? You try telling Mags.
Ok, Mags in tow, and first hurdle is the lifts. We battle the multi storied labyrinth and finally concur mount meatball; not that Mags was any help, taking every opportunity in her brief 5 minutes in store to ankle tap 2 people, and main a small child. I really wish she’d at least feign remorse rather than burst out laughing every time she did it…that poor child may never walk again.
Right, have a word Dean…’Mags, sort your s**t out or it’s a residential home for you from now on’. Ok Dean, you boring bastard. Chill out Mags, you’ve become increasingly more unhinged since you turned 85 on Friday. You know what they say though…well I hope you do, because I certainly don’t.
Bloody hell, the kids were in awe of this place…’What is this miraculous Wonderland?’. IKEA Grayson, it’s a jazzy furniture shop. Ignore the Mad Hatter…that’s just your Grandmother. Honestly, you’d swear the kids have never seen a furniture before, the kids were loving life trying out every sofa, and soon had a ranking system in place that IKEA have now taken on board into their official tier system. It’s basically the smiley face pain scoring system, but for comfort. We’re currently locked in a legal battle to the rights of the review system, with the kids driving a pretty hard bargain, wanting 10 Flugenhiemers, 5 blaagenteims, and a lifetime supply of meatballs in exchange for the revolutionary idea…we’re awaiting the official response at time of writing…
Continuing the labyrinth, the kids take every opportunity possible to relax, p**s about, try out every chair, sofa, stool or toilet, and even take a shower…wait what??!! Yep, Alaska had decided to take a break from the hustle and bustle of shopping and go for a relaxing shower in IKEA’s bathroom district. Dry off Alaska, we have places to be.
Ahhh, the Cuddly toy district, basically exiting through the gift shop in any attraction, destined to cause fights amongst siblings and torture parents…just have the bloody £3 Panda Bears and get move on…we’re meeting Mam, Dad and Anya in about 10 minutes, and if lunch is delayed, then Anya is gonna kick right off…I still remember the time she took a bite out of Jordan’s toe for using all the butter in the house…she was 10 years old!!!
Phone goes…sure enough it’s Anya demanding to know our location and ETA…we had a date with a carvery, and the promise of masses of food was almost pushing her over the edge. I’ll be there as soon as I can…it’s not easy navigating the maze of cutlery, lights and fake plants going at the breakneck speed that Mags was travelling at. I think I saw a snail overtake us. To get fair, I forgot how massive this place was, and poor Grandma can barely manage a few steps before breaking down more than Benjamin (please tell me someone gets that joke?); today though, she proved that all the fainting, and illness she had…today she showed us that she is clearly making it all up. Last time I help her round Iceland.
Only 20 minutes late, we finally make it to carvery town…population; the entirety of Cardiff. Well it certainly felt that way…The Cedar Tree Farm (not a farm at all as it happens) was bloody rammed, and now filled with a hangry bunch of Fletchers ready to take on the judgemental carvery. What does that mean? Well…the queue for the meat was long and filled with people (mainly me) judging the punters choice of accompaniments…in essence I was just in a pure hunger rage at the 20 minute line for a few pieces of half decent meat and some under seasoned veg. Not quite Toby Carvery’s poor form…I actually really enjoyed this meal; despite my self loathing at the belly busting weight gain. Shame, shame, shame. The real shame is that I don’t have enough space left to indulge in one of their two foot tall cakes…honestly, they looked incredible.
Following several toilet runs from Mags and Grayson competing for the crown of ‘Top Bum’, the lesser known poo related competition, it was finally time to leave this place and head to fulfil a long time dream of owning a Costco card.
Costco madness ensued, and we leave Mags to supervise the kids whilst we run into Costco for a few minutes to hammer out the details and secure annual passes to a shop…hmm, not quite as fun as our Merlin passes, but just as expensive long term. My goodness, this place was manic, half hour later (and I think that’s underselling it) and 2 panic phone calls from Grayson later (he doesn’t trust Mags will stay alive (umm, awake, I mean awake) long enough for us to return clearly) we make it back. Tales of cameras not liking Jordan’s face enough to believe she could hold the honour of Costco card fell on deaf ears as Grayson retailed our return.
Right, load em up…we’re going in. Grayson fumes at taking the driver seat alongside Alaska in the shipping trolley, but better there than running around the shop on a free sample hunt. Oh, too late, Anya quickly flaunts her ability to sniff out free food like a prize Truffle Pig, sending Grayson into a frenzied rage at his confinement within the trolley. Bloody hell Grayson, we’re trying to pick out some snazzy go faster shoes to deal with Hagrids Rope Drop and all you five a s**t about is securing a bite sized portion of chocolate. Just go get enough for your sister and get back here…greedy bloody kid.
Fortunately, Anya departs to hunt for enough free samples to apportion a second meal, leaving Grayson and his immature sniffing abilities faltering. Thank God for that…I was having flashbacks to 2005 Florida where we suffered the rage of several food vendors whose sample plates we had cleaned several times over…ooops.
Spent way too much here…well, considering all I bought was shoes and cakes…bad times. Like bloody Disneyland for cafe owners intent on selling muffins for a 300% markup. Good business model to be fair…I know the scam, but I’ll still be purchasing my £3.20 blondie from Starbucks tomorrow.
Anyways…had enough, too full to hit up the cafe on the way out, let get the van filled with our Rum and shame muffins and head home. I’m bloody knackered, and Mags has ran the old person equivalent of an Iron Man…I’ve booked her in for her new tattoo to commemorate the occasion don’t worry.
Had a decent day, but bloody shattered now…oh and I never did get my bloody shelves from IKEA…raging!!!
