We are in a warren of warehouses and depots, having slavishly followed the GPS, and Grandma has started yelling instructions at Grandad, when mercifully, we spot the Life Science Centre.

Actually, it’s hard to miss with its oxidised copper roof and strangely slug-like shape. Finding parking does nothing to reduce the stress levels. But then we’re in, and the kids are off, and I can see they are going to love it.

The first floor starts off with lots of physics. Only, of course, they don’t know they are doing physics. They are making wheels roll across spinning discs using sticks or they are constructing giant clockwork systems out of magnetic cogs or pouring sand on turn tables just to see what happens. This is physics made fun.

In the Science Theatre, the physics is disguised as a circus. We watch as a staff-member-cum-ring-leader rotates a full glass of water above her head without spilling a drop – it’s all about overcoming gravity with a rotational force, apparently. She then spins an audience member on an office chair, puts a sparkler on an electric drill and makes a gyroscope defy gravity on a piece of string. I don’t entirely grasp the science, but the kids are enthralled.

From here, I take the eldest to the Experiment Zone. The lady on duty looks at him doubtfully – he should be seven and he’s only six. He puffs up his chest and she takes pity on us and gives him a lab coat. We’re escorted to a high tech bench and left with the computer instructions.

Methodically, he pours acid and alkali and water into different test tubes using special glass pipettes for accuracy. Then he adds universal indicator solution and, to his delight, creates a rainbow result. He grips a micropipette to transfer the different colours into a series of tiny square in a storage plate and makes a picture of a dragon. We’re at it for about half an hour and his concentration never wavers; I wish my science lessons had been this fun.

The first floor starts off with lots of physics. Only, of course, they don’t know they are doing physics

Meanwhile, the little one has been upstairs with Grandma in the Curiousity Zone, dressing up and creating a castle out of gigantic foam blocks. She’s got the gates up, topped with pyramids, and is waltzing through them in a princess dress when another child kicks out the supports and the whole thing comes crashing down. Whereupon she retreats angrily to the play kitchen to do the pretend recycling.

And there’s something for my inner child too. An enormous room called ‘Game On 2.0’ is filled with hundreds of video games from the 1980s. Yes, the ZX Spectrum is here in all its pixelly glory, 128KB of RAM working overtime to let you play ‘hole in the wall’ or ‘ping pong’.

There’s the Commodore 64 and the Amstrad CPC too. My mobile phone would wipe the floor with all of the technology here put together, but damn, it’s fun to see it again after all these years. My family have to practically drag me away.

We head to the planetarium and via the rather disjointed story of a baby bear, explore the constellations. At least, I think that’s what we’re doing, as none of them look very familiar to me, and there’s no explanation whatsoever. It’s quite nice to sit in the dark for a rest though and the bear keeps the kids quiet for twenty minutes.

On the way out, we pass a series of models showing human evolution. A life-like figure of ‘Lucy’, touted by anthropologists as the missing link between humans and apes, is sporting a fine set of mammary glands atop a hairy chest and there are Neanderthal genitalia on show. Once the kids get over their fit of giggling and pointing, they are intrigued to watch ape faces turning gradually into modern day human visages.

We finish up with the kids testing their own ape-like swinging skills on the monkey bars and learning about the double helix in DNA. The Life Science Centre (part of a wider village which includes 600 scientists from 35 countries) might have an eclectic selection of exhibits but they’ve nailed the part about making learning fun.

www.life.org.uk