Enchanted City, Newcastle, a cold night, bright lights, and one very happy small boy

I’m going to put this out there.

A lot of family events at Christmas end up feeling like costly box-ticking exercises. They’re about being seen to be doing something festive. They’re about the photos, the posts, and most of all, the proof. And if you have young children, there’s also the quiet pressure about money and whether you can actually afford to keep up with what “a good Christmas” is supposed to look like.

It can all get quite stressful if you let it. Thankfully Enchanted City Newcastle was a bit softer.

We wrapped ourselves in scarves, hats, and that extra layer you only bother with once you’re over 45, and headed into town for Enchanted City. It was properly cold, but the lights, colour, and quiet magic made it feel worth every frozen fingertip.

Enchanted City takes place across Northumbria University’s City Centre Campus, with the entrance on the corner of Northumberland Road and College Street, just by the City Hall stage door. It’s fully outdoors, designed for winter, and yes, the programme is absolutely right when it says “wear all the layers.” We did, and we still looked like extras from an Arctic documentary by the end of it.

Cyrus, however, was unbothered. He was too busy chasing light.

What Enchanted City actually is

Enchanted City is a family-friendly, after-dark light and art adventure inspired by space, science, and the night sky. Think projections on buildings, glowing installations, roaming characters, and interactive artworks scattered across the campus rather than one fixed trail.

The programme describes it as “a universe of light, art, performance and cosmic wonder,” and for once, that isn’t marketing fluff. It really does feel like walking through a city temporarily borrowed by artists and given back glowing.

There’s no set order. You wander. You drift. You follow children, noise, light, or instinct, which, frankly, is my preferred way of doing most things in midlife.

Our highlights as a family

We didn’t see everything, because small legs and cold weather are real constraints, but these were the moments that stayed with us.

The astronaut in the church

Ascendance is a life-size projection of an astronaut floating alone in space, installed inside a church. It’s slow, quiet, and unexpectedly emotional. Cyrus asked if the astronaut was lonely. I said yes. We both went quiet after that.

It’s one of those pieces that lands differently depending on your age. Children see space. Adults see fragility.

The ladder to the moon

Ladder to the Moon is exactly that, a glowing ladder pointing nowhere and everywhere. Cyrus wanted to climb it. I wanted to sit near it and think about ambition, ageing, and how I used to believe I could do anything before I started making more sensible lists.

We all felt something, which is good art’s entire job.

Walking inside a galaxy

Cluster lets you walk through thousands of tiny points of moving light, like stepping inside a living star field. This was Cyrus’s favourite. He ran through it twice. I walked through once, slowly, pretending I was not deeply moved by something that looks like a screensaver but feels like perspective.

The fire garden, wandering aliens, and the Dog Star

The programme describes Enchanted City as “a family-friendly, out-of-this-world after-dark adventure, featuring space-inspired projection, light installations, fire, performance, interactive workshops and more,” and that mix of fire and performance turned out to be the part that stayed with us most.

There was a fire garden tucked into the experience, glowing gently against the cold, with people gathering rather than rushing. Small, controlled flames. Soft heat. A pause point in the middle of all the light. It felt ancient and modern at the same time.

Children went quiet around it. Adults warmed their hands without quite admitting that’s what they were doing.

Cyrus stood there longer than I expected, not asking anything for once, just watching the flames move. I realised how rarely we give children spaces that don’t demand reaction, consumption, or content creation. Just looking. Just being. Fire does that. It grounds you. It says, “You’re here. You’re warm.”

Then one of the roaming performers, one of the other-worldly “aliens” (part of the live performance woven through the site), stopped and crouched down beside Cyrus and started telling him about the stars.

She told him about Sirius, the Dog Star. About how it’s the brightest star in the night sky. Cyrus listened, completely still, nodding occasionally, as if this was obviously the most important conversation happening in Newcastle at that moment.

And honestly, maybe it was.

Because that, for me, was Enchanted City at its best.

Not the scale. Not the spectacle. But the way art, science, story, and human connection quietly came together in the dark, and made a child feel that the universe was worth asking questions about.

On a cold December night, in a city that usually moves fast and talks loud, that felt rare and very tender.

The small, lovely details

• There are no strobe lights.
• It’s step-free and pushchair-friendly, which I always notice now more than I used to.
• The staff and volunteers are kind in that North East way that makes you feel looked after without being hovered over.

What I loved most

I loved that this wasn’t noisy or frantic. It wasn’t a Christmas market on steroids or a sensory overload pretending to be “magical.” It was gentle and in some ways curious, like the Emotional Baggage drop-off point at the entrance.

It felt like an invitation to just slow down, and share something calm with Cyrus rather than entertain him into submission. And on a cold December night, in a world that feels increasingly brittle, that felt quietly radical.

Would I recommend Enchanted City?

Yes, especially if:

• You like your family outings calm and slightly reflective.
• Your children enjoy light, space, and “wow” moments without needing rides or sugar.

Wrap up warm. Bring gloves. Lower your expectations of your phone battery. Raise your expectations of your mood.

Practical info at a glance

• Where: Northumbria University City Centre Campus, entrance at Northumberland Road and College Street
• Format: Outdoor, after dark, self-guided wander
• Suitable for: Families, children, grandparents, romantics, quiet thinkers
• Accessibility: Step-free, wheelchair and pushchair friendly, no strobe lighting
• Dress code: Every layer you own

Final thought

Watching Cyrus run from light to light reminded me how naturally children accept wonder, while adults have to be gently tricked into it with good lighting and a narrative. When did we decide that awe was optional?

Would you take your family to something like this, or do you prefer your winter evenings indoors with Netflix? And if you did go, what would you hope your child remembers about it in ten years’ time? I’d love to know.