London or bust

Crikey. It's only the first Tuesday of the school hols and already we have done so much. Less surprisingly it is raining and I have long since given up shaking my fist at the sky and saying: "Why? Why? Why?" in anguished tones. Now I just open up the curtains at the crack of doom, look at the weather and say: "You bastard!"

Will the children of today remember long , hot summer days of childhood, as I do? Somehow I doubt it. Memories have to be made of other things not reliant on weather.

There was a film recently where the main character (was it Jim Carrey?) had to say 'yes' to every suggestion. I haven't seen the film, but the premise lodged in my mind, so when Kerry at Think Parents.Net/Digital Outlook asked me, as one of Disney's blogging Blu-ray ambassadors, to come up to London and be filmed for an internet advert extolling the virtues of the glorious Blu-ray, what else could I say, but 'yes'?

So we got on a train, all four of us, on Saturday at 7.33 am and headed for Paddington. H7 and R5 hadn't been on a train before. We broke their duck with three different types: Arriva slow but comfortable with a buffet trolley, Great Western fast thing with buffet car and Underground fast, mad, hot, squashed thing.

Brian and the girls headed off to find the hotel (Crowne Plaza) and then got back on the Tube again because two small girls had a whim to see where their Harrods bears were 'born'. There was a sale at Harrods. They had to come back out again to breathe and washed up on the steps of the V&A some time later.

Meanwhile I Undergrounded up north to Kentish Town to meet other Blu-ray bloggers: Gorgeous Jo, Handsome Dan and Lovely Linda and her Terrific Twins to sit on a squishy sofa in someone's living room and talk about the wonders of Blu-ray. Not difficult because we LOVE Blu-ray. (And if you've got an HD-ready TV and no Blu-ray player, you're MAD). Rachel, the hair and make-up artist, attempted to make a silk purse out of this sow's ear ready for the filming, then we sat and talked and then paused while Underground trains tunnelled underneath and a helicopter circled noisily overhead.

Handsome director said: "Can you say that good bit you were just saying again please?"

Me (thinks): Er, what was I saying?

It was a different way to spend a Saturday afternoon and was enormous fun.

Then it was back onto the squash of the Tube to the V&A to be reunited with the rest of my family and have a quick tour of the fashion exhibition.

H7 (in a loud voice): "Why are we looking at these? They're just dresses. Boring." Said in front of a heavily embroidered evening dress from 1775, just down from Diana's iconic beaded number.

The V&A provided refreshments in the form of brownies and cappuccino, then it was off on the Underground and back to the hotel.

"You're not going to believe this Mummy," said R5 skipping down the Embankment in the direction of the Hotel. She hadn't stayed in anything like this before.

It was pure Hotel Babylon of course. Which was why Brian and I were grinning so hilariously at the staff. I bet they knew why.

In the room the children discovered the mini bar while we discovered the prices. Then, after one of the children (OK, me) had removed the mini Glenfiddich and said how much! we discovered that it electronically counted what you had removed. Oops. We had to confess and blame it on the children.

H7: "Why blame it on me? It wasn't my fault!"

Then we hoofed across Blackfriars Bridge to Tate Modern for a whistlestop tour of my favourite paintings: Barnet Newmann's Adam and Eve (reunited at last); a Jackson Pollock; one of Monet's later Waterlilies; the full-sized version of the Rothko that we have a print of hanging on our stairs and finally The Snail by Matisse.

R5: "That isn't a snail Mummy."

Mummy: "Yes it is, see the way its shell curves."

R5, firmly: "It isn't a snail Mummy."

Dinner was back at the hotel in its Locatelli-satellite Italian restaurant. The food was utterly divine, from the complimentary Parmesan crisps to the tiramisu. The staff were adorably attentive and looked after the children brilliantly, bringing their ice-cream (Which flavour? Everything! No problem.) while we ate our entrees and polished off the Pinot Grigio.

By 8.30pm we were all asleep in our beds.

At midnight I awoke to an anguished gaze from H7 who was sharing a double bed with R5. The latter had her feet in H7's lap. We swapped.

At 2.30am R5 kicked me thoroughly on the bottom. I turned over to defend my posterior and she sneezed in my face. Twice. You swine. Swine flu? Eek!

Breakfast was a buffet. Anything you wanted to eat served up with a sea of coffee.

Bleary Mummy: "Any more coffee in the pot?"

Waitress (appearing as if by magic): "Do you need more coffee?"

I love hotels.

We then spent £30 on taxis taking the suitcase over to Paddington station. Are we mad? No. It's not as if we had to pay for anything else and it was convenient. And worth it for the sheer joy for H7 and R5 of travelling in a taxi for the first time.

We spent the morning in the Vue in Leicester Square watching the first showing in the UK of a Disney film, but I'm not allowed to mention it because it's embargoed until the end of the month. It was in 3D which we've never seen before and it was fantastic.

(To buy a similar fabulous spotty bag for London trips, picnics, on the beach etc, see Pipany.co.uk.)

We then walked to Paddington. Quite mad, yes, but we saw Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery (more Monets, toilets); called in on Liz and Phil (who were out) and then walked through hoards of Race for Lifers across Hyde Park. We hadn't planned to walk all the way, but the tube was full of the aforementioned runners and we'd had enough of the Tube after yesterday.

Then it was Paddington and, ultimately, home and we felt as if we'd been away for a week.