AT the age of six, I became hooked on Disney.
It was a Saturday afternoon in the stalls of my local cinema and Winnie The Pooh was shimmying up a tree.
Pure, unadulterated joy washed over me. That same feeling of glee bedevils me whenever I make a pilgrimage to Disneyland Paris.
I visited last year and the fizz of childhood wonder was diluted by a realisation that it was looking tired, like a beloved soft toy that has been hugged and snuffled until its colours are bleached and seams distressed.
A few months later, I find my little patch of heaven has been extensively replanted and repolished for the 25th anniversary celebrations.
The Newport Bay Club, which exudes the sprawling grandeur of a 1920s Cape Cod mansion, has been completely renovated with nautical but nice flourishes.
Anchored within a 10-minute walk of both parks, it’s a convenient base for the weekend.
I pack the bare necessities, including a portable mobile phone charger. The official Disneyland Paris app is invaluable to discern where you are and delivers real-time updates on queues for rides and shows.
Following a year-long refurbishment, the Big Thunder Mountain runaway train in Frontierland chugs past rainbow-coloured pools of water, encircled by glistening stalagmites.
A falling oil lamp ignites a simulated explosion on the final ascent of the journey, complete with lit fuses skittering over jagged rocks and a theatrical blast of TNT smoke.
I dig a little deeper and discover night-time scenes in Peter Pan’s Flight have been meticulously recoloured, so they sear my eyes under the ultraviolet glow of the second star to the right.
Meanwhile, the It’s A Small World boat ride has been given a welcome lick of pastel paint, delivering a whistle-stop tour of a perfect world, where mechanical children greet visitors with a smile and a song.
I hunger to try everything but two major attractions are closed. The transformation of the Space Mountain: Mission 2 futuristic rollercoaster into Star Wars Hyperspace Mountain won’t achieve light speed until next month.
A revitalised Pirates Of The Caribbean galleon ride is also just around the riverbend. From July, animatronic Captain Jack Sparrow and swashbuckling special effects will enhance rum-soaked scenes from a pirate’s life awash with boisterous buccaneers barking at the moon.
At 5.30pm, we gather to witness eight huge floats snake through the park on the inaugural Disney Stars On Parade. Mickey and Minnie lead festivities, followed by elaborate mobile designs dedicated to Toy Story, The Lion King, Finding Nemo and Peter Pan.
Some floats are enlivened with Cirque du Soleil-style acrobatics, and a 15-metre long dragon elicits gasps every time the mechanised behemoth rears its head and spews blood red fire, all in the golden afternoon.
Tomorrow is another day and after a hearty breakfast, I join the excitable throng heading to Disneyland Park for the grand opening of Star Tours: The Adventure Continues.
Reimagined in eye-popping 3D, the white-knuckle simulator ride seesaws wildly through a whole new world of Star Wars-related escapades, against iconic backdrops including the ice planet Hoth and forest moon of Endor.
The ride randomises scenes for each daredevil mission, piloted by a confused C-3PO.
The tantalising promise of more than 70 different combinations seems too good to be true but I take three rides in the space of one hour and sure enough, there is a fresh sugar rush of otherworldly special effects each time we blast off.
Across the repaved Discoveryland courtyard in the Star Port, an imposing Darth Vader hosts private audiences with new recruits to the Galactic Empire.
I’m a happy-go-lucky fellow and my fun and fancy-free Mickey ears fail to impress the Sith Lord. He is quick to snuff out the light-heartedness with a clench of his black-gloved fist and barks orders in that sonorous rasp before sending me on my way.
Outside, I’m in great spirits as I greet Chewbacca. In a world of my own, enveloped in a Wookiee hug, I fail to notice two approaching Stormtroopers in shiny white armour.
I’m a 43-year-old man, who still thinks he’s that six-year-old boy. That’s the power of Disney.
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