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Status anxiety

‘Yes,’ I said, punching the air. ‘Daddy got the highest score’ — and other triumphs

Toby Young

Wednesday, 31st October 2007

Toby Young's half-term report

Our first trip was to the City Inn, where the head chef, Peter Lloyd, has organised a series of Junior Masterchef classes for budding Gordon Ramsays. The minimum age is seven, but Sasha was allowed to participate on the condition that I kept a close eye on her — no easy task considering the number of yummy mummies present.

Peter’s initial lecture on the virtues of home cooking didn’t entirely capture Sasha’s attention, but she perked up considerably when she was handed a six-inch knife. Her first task was to chop up some vegetables and, as I stood beside her, gingerly holding a courgette between my thumb and forefinger, she went about it with some gusto. ‘Careful darling . . . not like that . . . here, let me . . . OWWWEEE!’

If only I hadn’t screamed, I might have avoided drawing the attention of the yummy mummies, all of whom howled with laughter to discover that ‘Dad’ had cut his finger. As far as I was concerned it was deep enough for stitches — a trip to A&E would be ‘educational’ — but Peter told me to stick it under the cold tap. After I’d proved such a useless helpmate, Peter decided to supervise Sasha himself and, by the end of the afternoon, she’d made a delicious vegetable primavera and come runner-up in a smoothie competition.

Our second outing together was to Chessington World of Adventures. On paper, this looked like a good bet. It is both a zoo and an amusement park — come next February it will also boast an aquarium — and is only 15 miles from Shepherd’s Bush. Just to be on the safe side, though, I snagged a couple of ‘Express Passes’ to the six most popular attractions, including the promisingly named ‘Runaway Train’. I couldn’t wait.

‘Sorry, she’s too young,’ said the gatekeeper at ‘Dragon’s Fury’.
‘Don’t worry about her,’ I said. ‘She’s completely fearless.’
‘Height restriction,’ he said, pointing to a sign that said ‘Minimum Height: 1.2 metres.’
‘Can’t you stretch a point?’ I said. ‘She’s not far off.’
‘Elf and safety.’
‘But —’
‘She’ll fall out, mate.’