Morning:
8°c
LET'S go to Legoland! Judging by the crowds swarming the Windsor theme park, we were not alone.
There's something clean and wholesome about Legoland. It doesn't go in for the preponderance of stomach-churning thrills as other places do. It's all about a million and one uses of the tiny plastic brick with some rides thrown in. Children, especially younger ones, are the focus. There aren't the same yobs you get elsewhere. It's altogether cleaner and safer.
Sitting by the lake in the centre of the park, that's how I felt. Annabelle had gone off to change Grace's nappy. I was with Archie, four, having our picnic. A man walked past. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, lean, fit, dressed designer casual, in a baseball cap, Rockport jacket, jeans and newish trainers. He was with a boy who looked about seven.
He was eating a hot dog and dropped the paper. He ignored it. A woman nearby pointed out to him, politely, what he'd done. "F--- o-- bitch," he snarled. When she told him to steady on, he accused her of being a "f-----g interfering bitch". I told him there was no reason for the bad language - not least, gesturing to Archie, with small children present.
"F--- off you bald c----," he shouted. "You f------g well stay out of it." Seeing me shake my head, he screamed, pointing at the water: "Shut the f--- up or else you'll go in there."
Whereupon he walked over to what might have been his wife or girlfriend, standing by the hot dog stall. Her black hair was scraped back and she sported two large round earrings. She was pale and thin and looked younger than he did. He was waving across at us, ranting to her. It didn't take a lip-reader to spot the abuse pouring from his lips. His son stared at us and gave a leery grin.
The woman who told him he'd shed his hot dog wrapper was stunned. A man who witnessed it all murmured: "I don't know why you bother - it won't change anything."
After a few minutes, the smartly attired abuser returned. He lit a cigarette and proceeded to smoke it ... under a sign telling smokers to go to the designated smoking area. He kept glancing at me, his face straight on, his eyes challengingly wide open. I noticed his right foot was tapping.
I was dreading Archie saying something. I was terrified of Annabelle returning and indicating the no smoking sign. When he was distracted we moved away and blurred into the happy throng. I spent the rest of the afternoon keeping a lookout for a dark baseball cap and checked blouson.
Even Fairy Tale Brook - "a gentle boat trip for all the family. See Little Red Riding Hood and all your fairy tale favourites come to life through 'LEGO MAGIC'" - didn't have the same innocence.
In the car on the way home, Archie asked: "Why was the man shouting, Daddy?" Before I could answer, he'd nodded off to sleep.
