Return to the magic kingdom

Neither did I really get their lack of enthusiasm to queue for another hour as we went on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride (the film series of the same name was based on the ride, not the other way around) for the fifth time. And just what was wrong with the Wild West-themed hotel we were staying in? Couldn't they see this place was heaven on earth?

Fast-forward to 2012 and I have made a return pilgrimage with my brother, Rufus, to mark this major anniversary of our beloved resort. But my Disney dream is crumbling around the Minnie Mouse ears that I've just bought for €12 ($15). Rufus, now 20, surveys the protesters, announces he is bored, mentions yet again that he wants a Coca-Cola and demands that we go on the Space Mountain roller coaster - again. I relent and off we go via an ice-cream parlour, where another €5 disappear into the Disney ether.

Returning to the Magic Kingdom as an adult is a funny old thing, at first every bit as crushing as finding out that Santa Claus doesn't exist. Though Disney has always attracted protesters (even Walt himself was hit by an animators' strike in 1941, which he accused of being a communist plot to destroy Hollywood), I never noticed them as a child. Nor was I aware that the theme park we seemed to visit every other year spent much of the '90s struggling financially, propped up by a Saudi prince as newspapers busily prepared its obituary. It was wonderful to me - a candy-coloured haven of happiness.

The day after the mini-strike, the protesters are replaced by a succession of Disney floats ridden by Buzz Lightyear, Mary Poppins and every character in between. The small child standing next to me has a look on her face of such pleasure that it melts my heart. She hasn't noticed the security guards in black suits who speak into their sleeves and go ahead to gee up the crowds as the floats approach, though her father undoubtedly has. "Jesus," he says to his wife. "This is what it must be like to live in North Korea."

"Shut up!" snaps his beloved. "You're going to ruin it for her."

My normally cool brother, meanwhile, has gone into a trance-like state. "It's so beautiful," he notes, as Cinderella passes by and blows a kiss in his direction. He is a child of Disney, the same age as this park. Is it possible that some sort of hypnotic switch is flicked in his brain every time they play the special song that has been commissioned to commemorate "20 years of magic"? I think it might be.

And they play it a lot. In the Disney hotels, where different scents are pumped into the air depending on the theme (the main hotel, which looks a bit like a wedding cake, smells of potpourri), the song is played in the lifts. There is no escaping it, not even when you go outside for a cigarette, where music seems to be piped out of the ashtrays. At first this seems to me like a more effective form of torture than waterboarding but it gets worse. We go on a musical boat ride called It's a Small World, which features hundreds of brightly coloured robot children wearing costumes from around the globe, singing a song so saccharine I wonder if I might throw up.

"Isn't it lovely?" says my brother, making moon eyes at some robots doing the cancan. "Hmmm," I say, wondering when to tell our mother that her son has somehow suffered a lobotomy while in my care.

I have been at the park for about 36 hours when an odd thing happens. I start to enjoy myself. Is it Stockholm syndrome? Is it a combination of saturated fat, sugar and adrenalin from being thrown around on roller coasters? I don't know but it feels good and I want more. We go on It's a Small World again. We sing along to the songs. At night, we watch as Disney cartoons are projected on to the magic castle, complete with fireworks and music (obviously). I see a tear roll down a grown man's cheek. I realise it is television host Jonathan Ross, who is here with his family. I want to tell him it's OK, that I feel emotional too. But I can't. Like my brother, I have gone into a catatonic state.

When it is time to get on the Disney Express back to London (aka the Eurostar), I feel terribly low, like a heroin addict who has gone cold turkey. Everybody on the train seems to slump into a post-Disney coma. I ring my mother, who asks if we enjoyed it. "Do you know what?" I say, a little surprised. "I really did."

"That figures," she says. "Secretly," and now she laughs, "I always loved it."

Four Disney holidays

1 Disneyland Paris Creative Holidays' Disney Family Fun package includes two nights' accommodation with breakfast and a three-day park pass. Kids stay free when travelling with two adults. Costs from $465 an adult, twin share, $222 a child. 1300 747 400, creativeholidays.com.au.

2 Walt Disney World, Florida A six-day package to Walt Disney World resort in Orlando from $2777 a person, twin share, includes return flights to Orlando with Qantas and friends, a six-day Magic Your Way base ticket, seven nights at Disney's All-Star Movie resort, airport transfers and transport between the resort, hotel, theme parks and water park. Book before June 30, travel between August 5 and September 27. 1300 656 722, flyfreedraw.com.au.

3 Hong Kong Disneyland Stay three nights at Hong Kong Disneyland's Disney's Hollywood Hotel and enjoy a two-day pass to the Magic Kingdom, return airport transfers and three nights' accommodation in a room large enough for four people (two adults, two children). Book by June 1, costs $629 an adult and $85 a child (10 years and under). 1300 747 400, wego.com.au/deals.

4 Disneyland Anaheim Harvey World Travel's package to the original Disneyland in Anaheim, southern California, includes flights to Los Angeles with Virgin Australia, a two-day park pass, four nights' accommodation and transfers. For travel between November 1 and December 9. Book before June 30, costs $2225 a person, twin share. 132 757, harveyworld.com.au.

Telegraph, London