Now to be truthful I had already decided that I did not want to visit Tivoli. The guide book described it thusly. In 1841 an enterprising journalist George Carstensen persuaded King Christian VIII that building a fabulous theme park might take people's mind off sedition and insurrection. The only proviso was that it contain be nothing ignoble or degrading
... mmm that would seem to rule out most things people generally regard as fun!
My noble companion would not be deterred however and so it was we found ourselves entering Tivoli from the back, squeezing through turnstiles and stripped of about 100 Kr. each!
First impressions were not calculated to improve my mood. Battling throngs of noisy children and parents wandering about with prams set on seek-and-destroy steering mode was not my idea of a pleasant Sunday afternoon.
Battling through the masses we passed the "Haunted Viking House", "Gut Wrenching Roller Coaster", the "Be raised to the top of a massive pole and then dropped" rides. I was determined not to stop, but my companion was even more determined and so we found ourselves queuing for the "Gut Wrenching Roller Coaster".
As is the way with these things the wait in line was 25 times longer than the ride itself. In line with my policy of "don't lower your standards and enjoy stupid entertainments" I held my viscera firmly in place as we tumbled through tunnels and careened over chasms. (NOTE - this is not the recommended way to enjoy roller coaster rides.)
Making our escape from amusement ride hell we reached the central area of Tivoli. There we found a lake with inviting benches where we sat a while and I sent a Hot Dog down to ascertain that my gut was indeed still there!
This was nice. More civilised. Young couples, families, sitting relatively quietly conversing with the ducks.
Once again whole we set out towards the main entrance. Aha - escape! - I thought as I saw the safe environs of Copenhagen beckoning beyond the walls of this amusement park purgatory. But no, no, no, my companion informed my and clutched in her iron grip I was escorted towards a small, empty stage. "You have to get here early", she informed me.
"Early for what?".
To my surprise and delight a chamber orchestra took the stage and launched into a series of joyous overtures. They weren't Mozart but in that style, classical era and quite delightful, apparently written by a Danish contemporary. This was fun. This was civilised. This was why I had come to Europe - the seat of culture - not the seat of a roller coaster!
(Note - tongue firmly planted in cheek here.)