That's Them Dancing

One of my nephews had a birthday and my step-sister organised a party for him. It was held at one of those so-called "fun" places where masses of kids stampede through various netted-off rooms and leap into giant pits filled with bright balls. Mostly they disappear under and then resurface. I'm sure the occasional one is lost to the sea of primary colour. With any luck.

I wasn't invited because Cinderella thinks I'm great with kids*; she wanted me to bring my camera and maybe take a few decent photos of the (nutjobs) youngsters going mental in the (asylum) playground thingy. I got some shots and then retired to some kind of padded cell where the other adults were sheltering. I munched on fairy bread and watched the endless, terrifying parade of children whizzing by, shrieking and screaming and even occasionally laughing. The noise they made seemed to endlessly reverberate on every surface around us. I felt like I was being sucked down into a whirlpool of mad colour and freakish noises.

It was a wild scene, man.




*And when I am great with kids it's in a totally healthy and approved manner. I have my Working with Children check to prove it.