A childless person's guide to Legoland

Until my 7-year-old niece visited for a fortnight, I'd never considered how we consign children to a ghetto in the UK.  There's no doubt, it can be a lovely, action-packed, entertaining ghetto ... but the fact is, unless you have one yourself, British children are out of sight and out of mind.

Sure, I see them walking by our windows in the neighbourhood, and those belonging to friends are regularly paraded out before dinner parties (then sent to bed before the fun starts).  But, generally, they don't eat in the restaurants we do to, attend the events we frequent, or even ride the trains we're on.  They even live on a different time schedule: the ones I know eat their "tea" early and get sent to bed before grownups sit down to a "proper" dinner.

Once I had one of these little people beside me for a fortnight, however, it made me think. I realised that you don't see this total separation in America, or on the Continent.  In both those places, children seem much more included in normal life. I noticed how adults on British trains glare at children ... even well-behaved ones ... like they're carrying plague fleas, and most restaurants I'd consider worth dining in make it pretty clear they'd rather not serve them.  The 7-year-old's parents found it decidedly odd, and we had a lot of interesting conversations about child rearing strategies on both sides of the Atlantic.

One of the grandest and most glorious of the English kiddie ghettos lies just a few miles from where I lived for almost a decade.  Yet I never made it to Legoland Windsor, because that ghetto concept goes both ways.  An adult without a child here would be as bizarre as the 7-year-old strolling into The Fat Duck and ordering some lunch.

This was, actually, a bit of a surprise for me.  My amusement park credentials are almost 100% Disney: indoctrinated in Anaheim at 18 months, topped up regularly in Orlando, last booster shot administered at Disneyland in 2009 (story here).  Disney works hard to create a park for all ages, and it's no surprise to see adults here on their own.  Don't try that at Legoland.  I think you'd be pushing it with even an 11-year-old.  This place is resolutely for the little ones; probably years 5 to 10.  The 7-year-old was right in the sweet spot.

The differences from my Disney baseline don't stop there.  Channelling the founding ethos of the company, Legoland offers much more variety in what the kids can do.  (Lego derives from the Danish phrase leg godt, which means "play well", and has always been about kids combining their hands and their imaginations to create new things.)  The park is dotted with fantastic playgrounds with climbing walls, slides and impressive spiderwebs of climbing ropes.  Our kid found these as good as the rides.  There are places to stop and build stuff with massive caches of Lego bricks; inspired, of course, by Lego creations throughout the park.  A boat ride and an auto track both offer a bit of instruction and a chance to get a driver's or captain's license when you complete your experience.  In this way, much as it pains me to say it, Legoland beats Disney hands down for the smaller kids.  Disney is a classic amusement park model, where kids watch things or have things done to them.  Legoland is an interactive play park where they shape their own experience.  In a world where we're all becoming increasingly enslaved to passive consumption of media on screens, Lego's interactive vision of play seems not just fun, but socially important.

If you are another childless person taking a godchild, niece or nephew to this bastion of kiddie entertainment for the first time, here are some things worth knowing.

• Bring something to read.  All that interactive play means that, rather than spending all your time taking the little people on rides, you'll be sitting around for big chunks of time watching them.  If you don't bring something to keep yourself amused, you may be very bored.

• Bring a camera.  Of course, you'll want to get all those snaps of the kiddie having a good time (to prove your auntie/uncle creds to the parents).  But you'll also be surprised, upon entry, with one of the most fantastic views of London imaginable.  Legoland cascades down what must be one of the highest hills in Berkshire, giving you an eagle's nest view of Windsor Castle, Heathrow, West London, the Eye, St. Pauls and all the way to Canary Wharf.  On a clear day, it spreads out much like a world built of Lego.  Intentional?  I'd bet.  Throughout the park, anyone with an eye for design or architecture will be delighted at the buildings, things and creatures constructed of those familiar blocks.  

• Miniland, where all of London's major landmarks join representative buildings from Europe and the USA, is jaw-droppingly amazing.  You will, undoubtably, want to linger here much longer than your little person will.  Do a deal and buy yourself some time with an ice cream or a souvenir.  In my opinion, the great tragedy of Legoland is that this part isn't somehow separate, so adults without children could pay a separate price to see it without bothering with the rest.  It's that good.  You'll get a great view of both Miniland and the London skyline if you go on a ride called the Sky Rider.  The best view is on the port side; but you might as well give it to the kid.  You're taller.

Tuscany and Amsterdam, Miniland style

• They sell refillable drinks bottles all over the park for about £8.  Buy one of these for your little person as soon as you get there.  We didn't see a water fountain all day.  Without the refill, you'll end up constantly forking out on drinks they take two swigs from, then don't want anymore.  You'll either end up carrying them all around (they won't want them once they're hot, of course), or throwing them away and getting irritated at the wasted money. Save yourself the drama.

• Parental types who were Lego regulars advised me that the food was really expensive and suggested bringing a pack lunch.  Wonderfully, you can actually bring your own stuff in, and there are picnic tables throughout.  (Another beautifully Danish touch.  Can you imagine any American institution missing a chance to force you to buy at their inflated prices?)  But, honestly, don't bother.  If (a) your frame of reference is Disney and (b) you're a childless person working in London, it's not that pricey.  There's a pizza buffet in a section called Heartlake where food and drink for three adults and one child cost me less than I'd spend on myself for an average dinner in London. (Just under £50.)  It includes a decent salad bar, so you can have a meal that's somewhat better than the children's menu fare throughout the park.  Sadly, there is no wine list.

• The water-based attractions are generally considered to be the best.  This, I have to admit, made no sense to me whatsoever.  It's England.  You're probably already damp and cold.  Why would you want to get wetter?  Our Legoland outing took place on a sunny summer's day, but for a 7-year-old from St. Louis, where it is generally at least 10 degrees C warmer at this time of year, it felt like mid-October.  There was no way in hell she was getting wet.  British children are no doubt used to the lower temperatures and they were thronging the water park, included in the price of admission.  There are changing rooms and places for guardians to wait as the kiddies knock themselves out.  So don't forget a bathing costume and towel if the weather is decent.  Or, if you're feeling particularly profligate, they sell both at the shop next to the water park entry.  Those Danes might be more generous that the Americans on the food front, but they're still on top of every opportunity to sell you extras.

• In a slightly bizarre contradiction to Denmark's famous gender equality, Lego has created a pastel-coloured line called Lego Friends, fronted by a girl power style singing group and slotting in somewhere between My Little Pony and Disney Princesses.  The fictional girls live in the cosy village of Heartlake, brought to pink, light blue and pistachio life around water crossed by performance stages.  The girl band appears several times a day to rock their little fans.  While I found the idea of gender-streamed Lego slightly disturbing, and I thought the Viking and Medieval sections were much cooler, Heartlake had our 7-year-old squirming with joy.  And she liked the pirates, too.

• The rides are, generally, not worth the wait.  This is, sadly, the one place where Legoland doesn't compare well to Disney.  If you're 7, of course, the mini coaster, the spinning Viking barrels or the little Ferris wheel are pretty good.  Problem is, at least in high season, you'll be waiting more than half an hour to get on something that lasts maybe two minutes.  The wait-to-ride-time ratio wasn't working well for our kid.  Even the driving lesson, which was our ride highlight, was pitifully short.  This makes the balance of all those interactive play areas all the more important.  If you were only doing rides, everyone would probably get quite cross.

• As with any big amusement park, you have no chance of seeing everything in one day.  Don't sweat it.  Just follow the kid around and have fun.  Once you've seen Miniland.

So, that was my introduction to Legoland, and to life in the UK with a kid.  Come to think of it, it might be me who's living in the ghetto, as the we "double income no kids" ... while an advertiser's dream ... are a minority.  For the sake of the future of our tax base, we should all be thankful for that.  

I'm thankful, honestly, that I got to see my world through the eyes of a child.  Next entry, I'll talk about making the most of England's stunning cultural heritage without boring a 7-year-old rigid.