In some ways I am really old before my time – I can knit, I actively enjoy cross stitch and on a Friday night I’d rather be kicking back with a cup of tea and a cryptic crossword than out painting the town red. At the same time I am also extremely childish so a holiday to Disneyland gets me just as excited as it does all those little kids in the adverts.
I only got to go for the first time when I was 22 so I may have gone a little overboard with the enthusiasm – running around with the Mickey Mouse ears on, queuing up to have my photo taken with Eeyore and considering throwing a tantrum upon discovering there was an age limit on the princess makeover. But the place just does something to you – it truly feels like the happiest place on earth.
And I know I should be dreaming about cultured weekend breaks to Amsterdam and Reykjavik. That Disneyland is a hugely clichéd destination. That it’s nothing but a marketing machine built to take our money and feed our consumerism. But I’m a lost cause. My heart was stolen by the fireworks over Sleeping Beauty’s Castle.