It's the season to let them eat cake

WHAT are the odds that the person responsible for the theft of two mechanical children's rides last weekend was forced into such criminal behaviour because of the intense pressure to offer something different at their child's birthday party?

Imagine the kudos as the other kids arrived to have a fully working Tractor Tom and Bob the Builder ride in the garden? Beats pass the parcel any day – and the 50p per ride would maybe just cover the costs of those ridiculous party bags.

It really wouldn't surprise me if it was some half-demented father who lifted them in desperation. No doubt he'd discovered too late that there wasn't a bouncy castle to be hired in the whole of Edinburgh and every soft play centre was booked up months in advance – despite costing a month's salary for a couple of hours running around, a ham sandwich and some diluting orange.

Before becoming a parent I had no idea of the social whirl which being a child involves these days. Now our kitchen calendar is full of invitations out to parties – for our son. Summer seems particularly bad, and ridiculously expensive.

Right now tots all over the Lothians are in the midst of their "season". Of course kids have birthdays all the time, but for some reason the majority of parties seem to take place in the summer months. Must be a form of parental summer madness.

It's certainly not the belief that good weather will mean they can just run around the garden and be happy with a few French Fancies. Oh no. Parties have got to have "themes". They have to have matching paper plates, balloons and banners. There have to be bigger and better inflatables or trampolines. Or they have to be held at the latest soft play centre with the "coolest" helter skelters and climbing walls.

And as they grow, the parties get more expensive. There's been a positive boom in the number of pampering parties for young girls. Yes, eight-year-olds having beauty treatments to celebrate, or perhaps even commiserate, being a year older.

Kids parties are perhaps the apex – or nadir, depending on your viewpoint – of our consumer society. Not only do people feel they have to keep up with the Jones' youngsters, or even beat them at their own game – no, they have to hammer them into the ground with lavish public displays of how much they love their kids by spending so much on them.

It is almost impossible to be immune from such pressure. And given the number of parties he's already attended it became increasingly clear that when my son turned four there was no way it could pass relatively unnoticed.

So this Saturday there will be a Thomas the Tank Engine inflatable taking up half the garden (apparently they don't do Ben 10 bouncy castles) and a whole host of kids – some of whom I've never even met – running around and demanding cake. And they damned well better eat it seeing as I'll be making it – no bought stuff, too many allergies to consider.

To give my son his due, though, he's made no unreasonable demands about having every child he knows from both his nurseries to attend (many, many parents crack under such social pressure and run up bills of hundreds of pounds) nor is he too concerned about what the entertainment will be. But give it another year . . .

I can only recall having one birthday party as a child, although that's not to say that's a correct recollection. Perhaps what I remember is the one which did not take place in the house. Instead my parents recklessly hired out the Portobello trampoline centre for an afternoon. The joyous occasion involved bouncing like mad, a short cartoon, jelly and ice cream, more bouncing, then vomiting out the car on the way home. It was fantastic.

Spin doctor on call
ON the subject of children and food I was lucky in my school career not to have been at the mercy of the dinner ladies.

I lived close to my gran's while at primary school and her lunches have left me with a fondness for boiled egg and burnt chips slathered in vinegar. At secondary it was packed lunches until I was trusted to buy my own and not just spend it on chocolate. It was chip butties instead.

But I still thought Jamie Oliver's series a few years back on the state of the nation's school food was quite awesome in the awfulness it uncovered.

So he'll be turning in his kingsize bed at the news that in Edinburgh nursery children have been served up processed cheese and fish paste in a bid to save cash. Quite how education leader Marilyne Maclaren thought they'd be getting anything better given the state of the finances of the Edinburgh catering services is beyond understanding. And so is her idea that bringing such services back under council control might help.

But then so far, understanding doesn't seem to be her strong point. If anyone needs to employ a spin doctor – and perhaps a food one – it's her.

The ties that bind
CAN'T say I'm surprised at the announcement that the exclusive private members-only club, Home House, is to shut after just a year of operations. It's previous carnation, The Hallion, was put up for sale after hitting financial difficulties.

Unlike London, Edinburgh isn't quite as clubbable – at least not in an "I'll stay at my club tonight" fashion. It's more a town where club membership depends on what school tie you wore.

Furthermore, the place is so small, you can always get home . . . if you can get a taxi. And there's no exclusive membership for that club.