Ferris Wheel

Candy Floss

Lights, colour and people merge into the 50s hangout, the air electric urging us to take part. I can hear snatches of conversation and laughter. Floral dressed twins on the verge of combusting; pleading for another go on the merry go round. Bubblegum pink candy floss melts on my tongue, giggling I stick it out watching as he snaps a Polaroid. Even with fluffy clouds in my mouth, I lusted after the smell of sizzling hotdogs covered in mustard, juicy stuffed burgers, sweet toffee apple, vanilla ice cream and barbequed ribs. The fairground is the only place no one could have a frown on their face; where our inner naïve four year old child escapes free and reigns.

Roaming t-shirts, sundresses and jean overalls entwine in a bubble of light and joy. Boys skipping towards roller coasters adorned by neon signs. Discordant tunes and winning announcements match our irregular heartbeats.

A doe-eyed teenage couple grip hands on the diamond Ferris wheel; the girl’s eyes spangled, bright and vivid, her hair touched by mother nature’s cordless blow drier, whilst the poor fella’s eyes closed so tigh-

Haughty screams pull me from my train of thoughts; on the bounce ride, teenagers…