Alice in Wonderland , 150 years old this year, is Lewis Carroll’s protest against the inevitability of growing up. There is a wonderful moment when Alice declares her intention to resist becoming a “dull” adult. And this show turns out to be perfect for all adults who have forgotten what it is to play. It happens underground in the Vaults at Waterloo and begins with an audience-splitting choice – one that fortunately never presents itself in life – between “Eat Me” and “Drink Me”. I chose “Eat Me” and, chewing on a pale, sugary pastille, was led through a mock-up of Charles Dodgson’s study (the answer to his question about ravens and writing desks is in there somewhere), through a wonderful bookcase – its sepia pages modelled like stalactites – and on into a room with a spinning zoetrope ceiling, showing Alice chasing her skirts (the evening is as much art installation as theatre).

We visited the splendid Duchess (Alison Fitzjohn) in her peppery kitchen, with dangerous Scottish chef (Hayden Wood) in attendance. Twin trapeze artists Nichole and Danielle Bird intriguingly reinvented Tweedledum and Tweedledee overhead, and the Mock Turtle’s song about Wonderland was composed and performed by Alexander Wolfe with striking melancholy. But best of all was the Mad Hatter’s tea party at a wild table set for 60.

The one problem was a power cut on the press night that made the White Rabbit even later than usual. But at least this gave actors a chance to brush up their improv skills, and I was particularly impressed by Paul Critoph’s resourceful walrus who tutored us, while we waited, in making startlingly accurate walrus noises.