In The Night Garden

I certainly didn't expect my wife to lace my Sunday night gin & tonic with an acid trip, but it was a lovely surprise. I think was just her way of saying thanks for being such a good hubbydaddy. And so, with dusk descending slowly over East Dulwich, and a steady rain just beginning to lop gently against the faux Victorian framework of the living room window, I felt the tired yet warm satisfaction of a man who had surpassed all that was asked of him this weekend. Let me explain.

We have recently had the garden done, and the diary for Saturday and Sunday was filled with activity for Daddy. Fetching of gravel, shifting of soil, lifting of palm trees, carrying of stuff and spending of money. I also had to fit in Harry's Little Kickers class plus a supermarket trip, feed the kids, feed my wife, grab a bottle of Masciarelli rose from green & Blue and pick up disc 2 Season 1 of 24 from Film Night (we’re a bit behind). All tasks successfully completed I finally crashed onto the leather sofa with Harry to catch up on some important pre-bedtime kids TV.

It was at this point that the LSD kicked in, and it was clearly "good shit". I began to experience the most intense mind-bending colours, bizarre shapes, balloon people, wild music. Plus the whole experience seemed to come with it's own narrative - Sir Derek Jacobi if i was not mistaken. I was transfixed. It was going off.

Or at least, that’s what I thought was happening.

“That’s Pinky Ponk, that one’s Makka Pakka, and they’re the Harboos.” said Harry

It turns out I wasn’t tripping, I was in fact watching “In The Nightgarden”. I immediately removed the spectrum sunglasses.

Being a parent means you become, by default, a bit of an aficionado of kids TV. Some of it is OK, but most of it is frankly shit. The Tweenies for example. I hate the Tweenies, I want to punch them all - especially Jake for making Harry say words like "broked" instead of "broken" and "seed" instead of "saw" - what the f**k are they playing at? Likewise Tikkabilla is simply offensive.

In The Nightgarden is not shit - it is genius. Here is a show, thankfully, that seems to hark back to the good old days. My childhood was peppered with inventive, pseudo drug-influenced programmes. Mr Ben, Chorlton and the Wheelies, The Herbs (the clue was in the title). Then of course there was Magic Roundabout with more drug references than you could shake a stick at, The Clangers and the brilliant Rhubarb and Custard - the list goes on.

These were shows made by people who were either on copious amounts of mind altering drugs, or who knew people who were on copious amounts of mind altering drugs. They appealed directly and perfectly to that part of the brain that only a child can possibly make any sense of, and we were transfixed. I'm not suggesting for one moment that young upcoming TV producers need to start sucking on the sugar cubes - they just need to get a little silly again.

In The Nightgarden is a step in the right direction.

So as the Tombliboos snuggled down to bed I realised that sadly my wife had not dropped a couple of Smiley's into my drink, it was just a normal G&T, made the way I like it - lots of ice, lots of lemon, lots of gin.

Resourceful as my wife may be, I imagine even she would find it difficult to get her hands on LSD in Dulwich.