Today I did something that I haven't done since I was a mini teen babe, and went to the fair. A night off from talking about which thrush cream is best (don't get me wrong, we're not eternal sufferers, we just tend to repeat this discussion most weekends), one of my best friends Kirsty was more than happy to jump on the bandwagon and get in touch with her inner child.
And she did just that. Jumped on the bandwagon, that is. She jumped so suddenly into the first ride, with the power of a charging bull, that she had no time to realise that the cart was wobblier than my tummy during a Zumba class. The sudden swing took her by surprise and she stumbled, tripped and slammed down the safety bar, almost beheading me in the process.
Lesson One: Remind friends that although we're barely twenty, neither of us are as supple or as light as we used to be.
Following this, I spotted a grand opportunity to relax my dizzy head, enjoy the view across the beach, and of course, see if I could spot the Gerard Butler lookalike who'd just won his girlfriend a giant duck teddy, and mentally undress him without either party clocking on. At the peak of the wheel however, with nothing but a rusty pole and Kirsty's clammy hand to hold onto, mentally undressing any man below turned into an Olympic event.
Before I knew it I had started to panic; I was insistent that the 'cart' (which was a little bit of an overstatement for a suspended park bench), was going to tip upside down and the that would be it, my 19 year old body would plummet head first to the ground and I would meet my grisly end, before getting so much as a sniff of candyfloss. I screamed hysterically and ended up crying, swearing at the ride owner and attracting a lot of foreign glances from said Gerard Butler lookalike. As far as the 'list of most humilating moments of my life' goes, this was a close contender for the top ten. I know, it's hard to believe it gets much worse, isn't it?
Lesson Two: Being a hysterical sadact on a kiddy ride does you no favours in the Gerard Butler lookalike department.
The Waltzers have always been my favourite ride. My dad used to take me on them in the days that I thought hot pink combats were a timeless classic, and even just seeing the Waltzers brings back that nostalgic feeling. Today however, I loved them a little bit too much. Gravitational forces became chaotic and my breasts decided they were having far too much of a good time to stay within my I-can't-believe-I-thought-this-was-appropriate top. I spent the rest of the ride spinning round at 289478921 mph trying to protect my remaining dignity by placing my arms in an X across my chest. Looking like an X-Factor ambassador could surely be more fun then having another 14 year old chav smirk and make crude gestures at my naked expense.
Lesson Three: When choosing your outfit, remember that your top will shuffle down a few inches on a ride renowned for making people vomit.
It's safe to say that my trip to the fair was a huge learning curve. Waking up full of optimism and child-like enthusiasm, I hadn't expected that I would end the day having nearly been killed, sworn at an innocent man, and flashed my tatty-bojangles to every Tom, Dick and Harry in sight. And that folks, is the precise reason I will be returning next year, because despite leaving with a redder face than when I arrived, I had a flipping great time. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much!
Lesson Four: Going to the fair with £2.50 and having to be home by 9pm was never as much fun as this!
Have a lovely bank holiday weekend folks. What are you up too?