Bled is a postcard, and postcards are boring to children. The lake is the right size to walk around (six kilometres, two hours, three complaints). The island is the right size to explore (fifteen minutes, ninety-nine steps, one bell to ring for a wish).
What worked: renting the wooden pletna and letting Franek row, badly, in circles, for as long as he wanted. The cream cake, obviously — kremšnita, a slab of custard between two sheets of pastry that is engineered to be eaten by someone whose day has been long.
What didn't: the castle. It's a car park with a view. Also the 'easy' trail to Ojstrica, which is easy for someone who is not carrying a four-year-old on their shoulders for the last third.
The real tip is Bohinj, twenty minutes further on, where there's nothing to do except swim and lie on a jetty and watch clouds. The kids were happiest there. So, it turns out, were we.
