50 of 50

So we’ve reached the “end” 50 posts from 50 years. If you’ve been here from the begining or joined in at any point over the last 50 weeks, thanks for reading. I really do appreciate you taking the time to read the words that I’ve been writing. I hope that you’ve enjoyed it and that it’s bought you some enjoyment.

I’m going to send out a separate post in the next week or so about what I’m thinking of doing next but in the meantime on with the show!

Growing up we used to have a regular visit from a travelling fairground which would set up near us once a year for a few days before moving on to the next location. We didn’t go every time they came but I do remember one particular visit. It might possibly have been the first time that I was taken / allowed to go, probably by virtue of being considered to be old enough.

My memories are snatches of the different rides and attractions. From having a go at trying to shoot a target with an air-rifle to trying to win a goldfish in a plastic bag by bouncing a ping-pong ball into a glass bowl. Looking back these seems a bit barbaric as I’m sure the fish would be much happier in the bowls and I wonder whether this is still a feature of fairgrounds today?

By the time we’d tried some of the static attractions it was time to try some of the rides. I must have still be quite young as I do remember being too short to go on some of the rides that my older friends were allowed on. One of the exceptions to this was the ghost train. At the time I don’t think I had a concept of what this was, other than it was supposed to be scary; that I didn’t want to really go on it and it took a lot of persuasion to get me into the car that you rode in.

I remember it being a bumpy, jerky ride and with adult hindsight what was obviously puffs of air, sprays of water and strands of cotton wool and other things designed to give you the chills along with clearly past their best mannequins and dolls in all manner of different “scary” poses with fake blood and gore, along with the sudden changes of direction to make you think that you were going to run into one of them. The thing that scared me the most and I do remember vividly though is when we rounded one corner in the dark and up ahead we could see another car with people in it coming straight towards us on a collision course.

As we barreled towards one another I distinctly remember thinking that this was how it was going to end, until of course at the last minute we made a sharp turn away from our reflections in a mirror. The combination of poor lighting and the build up really did make for a scary experience.

I suppose that the scary experience I get now looking in the mirror probably isn’t quite the same thing, but that is a memory that sticks with me to this day. It’s odd that it does because it’s such a minor thing from 50 years. I also remember from years later when we went on trips with our youth club to Thorpe Park (somewhat different now to how it was then), that the Ghost House wasn’t nearly as scary to me as it was to some of my friends.

Thanks for reading.