19 April 2022
Tuesday. School holidays. A small person in a dinosaur jumper asked the front desk whether she could “do the coffin one”.
I was flattered for almost a full second. Then the gamesmaster explained, very gently, that my rooms are for grown-ups only: eighteen and over, no exceptions, with identification checked if anybody looks young. The small person took it well. Better than I would have.
I want it on record that this is not snobbery. My work is simply not built for children. It is dark, it is loud, it is unsettling, and it involves a great deal of me being pleased with myself, which is unsuitable for impressionable minds.
Nor may the small people wait in the room and watch, before anybody asks. My audience is the pair in the boxes and the gamesmaster with the tea. That is quite enough witnesses.
I sent the dinosaur jumper home with a recommendation for one of the brighter rooms downstairs. I hear she escaped with eleven minutes to spare. Good for her. Come back in six years.
— U.


