Does Lapland in the UK have to be a disaster?

Lily and Archie meet Father Christmas

Lapland New Forest. Closed, after an avalanche of complaints. And Lapland West Midlands failed to even open. So when Jane Wakefield took her children to "Lapland" in Kent, it was with some trepidation.

My five-year-old Archie begins questioning the Lapland experience long before we set off.

On reading his personalised invite from Santa, his first question is: "We're going to Lapland so I presume we are going on a plane?"

Lapland UK, just outside Tunbridge Wells (flying time - zero, driving time - 90 minutes), seems well prepared for critical five-year-olds.

An information board at the entrance explains the "flight" will be one of the imagination, travelling down the magical pathways that elves have used to get around for centuries, and which have been specially opened up for the lucky children invited to come.

An elf leads the way to the magic wood

And there is a convincing attempt at magic as we enter a "magic" wood via a large wooden door and are led through a Narnia-esque woodland scene that turns from green to white.

The place itself is extremely picturesque with Christmas trees sprinkled with fake snow and wooden chalets built around an ice-rink. Even my cynical son buys into the illusion that he has been transported to the "real" Lapland.

We are greeted by people dressed in traditional Sammi costume, some with husky dogs, although others are in tackier Rudolph costumes.

The children are divided into small groups for a series of activities, including helping the elves make rocking horses and decorating gingerbread men.

Saint Nick

The organised schedule and small groups of children seem to be a large part of the success of Lapland UK - no relation to the troubled Dorset attraction which closed last week.

Archie helps the elves make a rocking horse as he waits to see Santa

But the highlight of any trip to Lapland, real or fake, has to be the visit to Father Christmas. The three-hour queues at Lapland New Forest troubled many of its visitors, but ours is a slick and well-oiled procedure.

Rather than stand in line, children enter a room packed with activities to wait until their names are called. Then an elf leads them by the hand not to a standard Santa grotto, but through the woods and down a path to a little wooden house for a very personal audience with the man himself.

He wears red and white, but in the style of traditional Sammi clothing. His beard looks real and he speaks in what, to the untrained ear, sounds like an authentic Scandinavian accent.

My children, sitting on a reindeer skin-covered bench to give him their Christmas wish-list, believe 100% they are talking to the "real" Father Christmas.

But I am not allowed to take photos. Instead I can pay