Imagineering

I have a feeling that this is what the creatives at Walt Disney are called: imagineers? The ones who get to think up rides, plot lines – I’m not sure what is theirs, and what’s not. But I love the combination of imagination and engineer: through some practical application of impractical (but wonderful) thinking, we arrive somewhere new.

We’re at a slightly low ebb today: one very sore throat, one tummy bug. I try to stay afloat between the menu requirements for the two, which may converge (jelly, anyone?) but may not (a pre-teatime meltdown when the unfairness (and portion sizes) of other’s meals came to a head for the one with the tummy bug).

But between the resting, reading aloud, being read to, use of story tapes (audio CDs to you), and other sundry activities, there was enough energy for some imagineering.

Take 1: pile of Duplo, accessorised with some Playmobil pirates. The two pirates fight it out for the possession of a golden pistol, hidden in a pile of (very small) coins in the treasure chest. Sit with your knees up and you can make hills to run up, and caves at the back.

Add in the fabled blue blanket, and there’s a lagoon to stash the treasure in when your enemy comes too close. And for a quick deus ex machina moment, one pirate escapes in our newly acquired Tardis, along with the treasure, and sundry plastic vegetables that happened to be in there already.

Take 2: a picnic cum family meal, courtesy of blue blanket. A pretend tin of cat food gets opened up and spooned into bowls ‘for our two cats’. When I query which these are, out come the soft toy lion cub and snow leopard. Later, Optimus Prime decides to join us (though it is never revealed what he is actually eating). I try to capture this on the camera, but with low lighting, it doesn’t quite do it justice.

Take 3: bring in iPod and mini speaker, do something fancy to the iPod. Cue A-ha, and later, Pet Shop Boys. We suddenly have an impromptu 80s disco, complete with big smiles, some hip wiggling, and attempts to turn the main light out and find something that will do in place of disco lights.

Clearly our need of a glitter ball is greater than I anticipated. Sadly my affections are won by the need to cook tea and call an insurance company, but the disco lasts a bit longer (and has to be sent back to the bedroom when it threatens to be louder than the ‘on hold’ music).

All very satisfactory – and no doubt part of the recuperation process. Please: do try this at home. Your way.

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