The Windsor Legoland Resort, in England, has all the building blocks for a great stay, reports Liz Breslin.
Legoland. It's a word that can engender envy, excitement or fear, depending on the audience.
Under-10s mostly jumped up and down when I told them we were going to stay at the new resort hotel just outside Windsor, England and spend two days in the park.
Adults patted my shoulder and murmured sympathies about long lines and large bags.
I sided secretly with the under-10s from the start: my favourite rainy day activity has long been randomly dividing all the Lego in the box and conducting time trials to see what awesome creations we can come up with. But don't tell the grown-ups that.
Two days of pure Lego fun.
What could be better?
The resort hotel is on site and guests get sneaky early entry on selected rides. As we entered, the children ran straight to a massive Lego building pit.
Heaven already.
I half-heard the orientation instructions at check-in, marvelling instead at a backdrop of Lego mini-figures magnified by a glass-holding, bearskin-hatted Lego soldier.
Getting to the park from the hotel could not be easier. Take the talking lift to the second floor and you're there. The hard thing is not becoming distracted along the way.
There's the rambunctious whoopee cushion corner, the allure of Bricks restaurant, the children's play area with the Lego testing ramps, the list goes on until you're out there.
Actually in actual Legoland.
Excited as any 10-year-old to immerse ourselves in the various lands within.
We went to Windsor midweek - on a day with the bluest of skies and about 8000 people at the park. One staff member told us it could be nearly three times that some days. Phew. That would be a different story.
So any fears about long lines were unfounded. Ten-minute queues were the worst we faced.
Some rides we could even go round and then stay on again.
And again. Laser Raiders was a case in point. Just as well, too, as we only realised halfway through the first ride that you could total up your scores for shooting serpents and other baddies with the hairdrier-style guns in the haunted house cars.
It wasn't just the kids who wanted more.
As we slipped through again, the childless couple behind us were doing the same. We came out victorious - 22,000 points! Go us! We were ecstatic until the red-clad Lego crew told us you can score at least three times that if you know the secret - which they weren't telling.
Laser Raiders was just one example of a game pitched just right. Fun for all concerned and a good modern twist on a theme park favourite.
We left the Kingdom of the Pharaohs regretfully, pausing for a photo with a mega Lego camel on the way.
Pirates Landing called, with other theme park favourites reinvented. The Jolly Rocker is a classic pirate ship and the Dynamite Drench a log flume that had us nostalgic. The children made the grade for both these on the metal measuring sticks (there are age, weight, health and height restrictions well-advertised on most attractions), so they got to experience pirate-ship-lost-stomach-syndrome for the first time, as well as the fear just before the flume falls down.
There's quite a long boat ride before you get to the drop and this is well populated with Lego models squirting water or exhibiting groan-worthy puns.
The same approach is taken with the entry-ways to the rides - for those in lines there's mostly something to look at or play with while you wait.
I didn't feel the need for any large bags until late afternoon.
Hot and buzzing after three consecutive rides on The Dragon rollercoaster and some hardcore rigging climbing at the Pirate Training Camp, we sought water bottle opportunities in vain. We could've bought unlimited fizzy drink refills for £6 ($NZ12) for the day but I scroogily saved the cash for Lego souvenirs instead.
And we headed back to the hotel.
Therein lies the beauty of staying there. You're at Legoland but not at Legoland.
You can be like the man I met in the talking lift.
"Where are you going today?" it asked.
"Anywhere," the man said, "for a bit of peace and quiet."
The cheery canned music pervaded everywhere except the rooms. He'd had enough.
Frankly, I could remain at the hotel, which opened in March, without even visiting the park and still have a good time. Built for fun and function, the children had a blast.
Buffet dinners from a counter at their height, a drinks menu with eyeholes, climbing gaps in the restaurant walls.
An evening pyjama party with Ollie the dinosaur left parents with time on their hands - conveniently next to the Skyline Bar. Even the toilets are fun.
And the rooms. The rooms! Good as the carvery dinner with Lego hot chips and make-your-own-icecream was, we couldn't wait to get back to ours. We were in an "Adventure Room" on the fourth floor, with a view over the exterior of the hotel and a tantalising glimpse of a Lego man fishing at the entrance to the park. The decor screamed.
Indiana Jones burst his way through the wall towards us.
Other floors, equally as lurid, have pirate or kingdom themes.
In our Adventure Room, the children discovered free Lego in the code-locked safe and a hieroglyphic game under the second television.
We slept well. Good beds, no tinny music. The Lego scorpion stayed on the bathroom wall and none of the carpet tarantulas tickled our faces. Phew.
We'd tried to organise our time with the same precision some people organise their Lego bricks. You know the types. Different compartments for each size and colour and a special section for mini figures.
Nerds. And we had almost succeeded in heading up one side of the park one day and down the other the next, except the lure of the traffic area proved too much for the children to resist. At the driving school you actually get to drive an real Lego car. As long as you're between the ages of 6 and 13. So we adults sulked outside, not allowed to take part.
We had to beeline there again first thing on day two, it proved so popular.
After that we felt the need to soak ourselves in some crazy whirling Viking boats and yet another splashdown.
Suitably refreshed, we headed for Miniland. And man, had we saved the best till last.
Imagine a world where everything is Lego, from the guards marching outside St James's Palace to the Eurostar running from St Pancras to Paris.
Miniland should be right up there with the Seven Wonders of the World as far as I'm concerned. There are Scottish castles, a crowd mobbing Abba, a diamond jubilee tribute. All in incredible detail.
Imagine being the people who get to create these scenes. The pinnacle of all jobs, right?
Playing with Lego on a massive scale. One of their studios is just visible above the Star Wars Miniland shop (Star Wars Miniland! I know! Double nerdish brilliance!) and it surely rivals Weta Workshops for the wanna-see-behind-the-scenes factor.
There's no shortage of shopportunities around the park, although these (and the corporate branding on different rides) are quite tastefully understated. For less than the price of unlimited fizzy drink I came away with Lego-brick ice cube makers - surely a must-have for any household.
Our last stop was the Imagination Theatre for a 4-D Lego show. I couldn't even tell you what it was about, honestly, although snow fell, fire raged and something zoomed. I'd reached Lego saturation point; something I never thought possible.
As we dragged ourselves reluctantly away at the end of the second day, the dragon guarding the hotel entrance snorted a steamy farewell.
We drove away from Windsor with Lego still in our eyes.
Motorbike helmets. Old brick buildings. Now the outside world seemed Lego-esque.
Primo, as the 10-year-olds would say. I sat back, conjured up some cheerful canned tunes, and smiled.
- Liz Breslin is a Central Otago writer.
