“I hope you brought some earplugs”, I said to K as we walked into The Fun Factory.

I wonder just when these things were invented. When I was a kid fun was something that happened in the local fields or on the round bit of waste ground at the top of the road we all called The Frying Pan.

Now, fun is an enclosed activity with a party hostess and doors that have strips of plastic attached to them to prevent little fingers being trapped.

It’s hard to know what The Fun Factory was before it became fun. The best guess seemed to be a warehouse. Stuck on the edge of a, “magnificently landscaped site that sets the finest in modern commercial architecture within a sympathetically conserved natural setting” it does mean that the local roads get some use at the weekend when all the office workers have abandoned the place.

Inside, surrounded by primary colours, the party went very well. But with a huge climbing frame (called “soft play” for some reason), food, ice cream, cake, a helium balloon in the shape of a motorcycle and arm fulls of presents it was never going to fail.

After we helped clear up and get the present into a car K and I headed to the river for lunch. It was just warm enough to sit outside and watch the boats and ducks glide by then we headed up the road to the National Trust house for a wander in the garden in the sun.