The school year is over. They came out at two and we hit the fair which opened that afternoon.
You have to embrace the trashiness, the sugar, saturated fat, shoving and shrieking. It’s not always easy. It doesn’t help that I’m too fat/old/scared/physically incompetent to go on rides. There’s always a certain amount of bargaining about which rides I’m happy for Z to squander my cash on. A lot of “maybe next year ” is heard.
I definitely prefer wandering around the rides at night when the lights make my heart skip in pleasure but despite my assurances it’ll still be here when he gets back after his week away he’s not willing to take the chance.
Ida flung her small self wholeheartedly into the trashiness embracing by insisting on wearing a slightly tattered and too big Tinkerbell dress my aunt found in a charity shop for 50p.
She loved this roundabout – Steve and I remember Zeph loving it as well. He always liked the fire-engine. There is something deeply satisfying about the route of the track, with ups and downs that are exciting enough for toddlers, the carriages have bells to ring and it’s next to a food stand so I could inhale the fair smell, composed of burnt sugar, onions, cigarette smoke and diesel fumes that makes my skin tingle in anticipation.
Later on in my garden looking fondly at the scabious which has sprung up in my wild grass patch I realise I’m looking forward to taking Zeph back for one last ride on the last day. We’re going to watch the fireworks really which start at 9.30 so we’ll get to wander around the rides in the dark watching the lights and smelling the smells.
I only do it for the kids though…