I’M IN a transit van with the lead singer from a famous rock band. You’d be forgiven for thinking we had a crate of lager in the boot and a Motorhead album blaring from the tape deck. Alas, no. The strongest thing on board is a bottle of Calpol. For this is a road trip with a difference.

We’ve traded in the rock and roll lifestyle for a Dad’s day out at Pendon Miniature Railway Museum. Four young children are safely strapped in the back, where they engage in an unnerving conversation on the nature of death. If you haven’t visited Pendon, you really should. All the models are made with fabulous attention to detail. The Museum’s founder, Roye England, didn’t just set out to make a first-class model railway. He also, in 1954, had the foresight to preserve scenes from the 1920s and 30s. Recent history to him but today it offers a fascinating glimpse of our past.

Take the spectacular Vale Scene upstairs. You can see horses at work, delivering water. You can see buildings that have been knocked down. You can see structures which are still intact, like the bridge on the A420. Volunteers leap out of the shadows like cheerful vultures, getting ready to strike their prey with titbits of information.

I find the entire display fascinating. I admire the years of devoted labour, work that continues with the new construction of a church. What I love most of all is how very English it all is. Along with village fetes and seaside holidays, I can’t really imagine anything more lovely. “This is awesome” says my seven-year-old.

“No it’s not” says my five year old. “It’s boring”. And then he shouts “boring, boring, boring” so loudly that he could be heard out in the car park. I pretend to be cross.

This is quite difficult because he’s very funnily reminding me of the episode I can only refer to as The Ashmolean Museum Disaster.

All I can say about this is that I roughly know the difference between a bog standard chair and a Louis XIV chair.

My five-year- old doesn’t. If he sees a chair he’s going to sit in it. And shout “boring”.

The volunteers at Pendon are kind, thoughtful and patient.

But I bet there’s a sigh of relief when we retreat downstairs.

Why do Dads get to enjoy this stuff anyway? Did we draw an evolutionary short straw? We’ve been to Didcot Railway Museum. We’ve been to the Oxfordshire Bus Museum too, and I’m not embarrassed to say that I’ve enjoyed all of them.

I already wear glasses. I’m only a step away from buying an anorak and a jotting pad.

I know from the moment that I walk into the gift shop and buy a tea towel that my reputation as a hellraiser is officially ruined.

A postcard will set you back 5p. How wonderful is that?