Out Night Garden!

I’ve got the Iggle Piggle song lodged in my brain, it keeps playing and playing and I can’t stop myself humming it on the Northern Line, in the lift at work, everywhere. There is no escape. Another thing I hate about Night Garden is that moment when your child wanders off and you are left watching on your own because you have to find out what happens to Macca Pacca’s whatsit. Exposed.

Waybulo I don’t enjoy at all. It’s well made and watchable, allowing the programme makers to invade the minds of the under fives with strange, wifty-wafty pseudo-spiritual crapola. It contains: coloured crystals, a weird sundial contraption with symbols on it, characters who rise up in the air when they feel happy, and big-eyed cgi puppets (I hate big-eyed animated characters, can’t quite say why, it might be something to do with Bambi), then they get innocent little children to do yoga moves. It’s possible that my dislike is entirely based on the pilates-yoga polarity; I, and probably many others who do pilates, have an intense natural suspicion of yoga with its spiritual elements and tendency to appeal to people who like crystals. Probably yoga mums just hate Bagpuss and all those proper children’s tv programmes they had when I was a girl. But that’s another story.

It’s quite possible that Rose will just enjoy watching it and not go over to the Yoga Side, despite the crystals etc etc. She is copying me by saying ‘rubbish’ all the time which I see as a good sign.


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