Last night my husband took me, my mum and her boyfriend to the State Fair. I should mention that I am not a fan of the fair – but it was a lovely evening to be outside and so off we went. 100 years ago, when I was a teenager, I used to go to the annual fair at Hampton Court. It was held in a beautiful park by the River Thames, right across the street from Hampton Court Palace (the home of Henry VIII). There were always a few food vendors selling candy floss (cotton candy to our U.S.A. cousins), but the fair primarily consisted of an assortment of rides, and a few booths where you could try to win a prize. As a young woman of 15, I was always aware of the handsome, young men working all the rides. They were wild, gypsy boys, swarthy, with menacing black eyes, and very, I repeat, VERY, hard bodies.
Fast-forward 35 years and I find myself staring at the butt-end of a pig. Yes, I did say a pig’s arse. The four of us stood in the birthing centre at the fair, where you could watch piglets being born or, if your mood suited, a live, surgical procedure on some poor animal. I am not a vegetarian, far from it – and you might call me naive, but sitting in the bleachers watching piglets being born, while munching hungrily on a pulled pork sandwich seems a little barbaric……… After the wonder of birth, we walked along the Midway, where all of the rides were lighting up the dusky sky. I found myself amazed at the variety of food being sold. Big fat turkey legs, crab-cakes, candy, hamburgers, you could buy just about anything, and everything also came deep-fried! My husband bought some deep-fried mashed potatoes, but he spent most of the time alternating between chewing and looking upwards, because obviously all that greasy food might not sit too well on the stomachs of the people being spun upside-down right above our heads! The beverage booths were doing gangbusters, and although I had a Margarita, it seemed somewhat wrong to be walking along a scruffy fairground Midway instead of drinking it by the pool. At last we ended up in the Exposition building, where much to our amazement we saw countless booths selling everything from hot-tubs to handbags, new decking to kidneys (just kidding). The goods were rather crappy, bad tee-shirts and saucepans -The sales people were a hodge-podge of smooth ex car-salesmen and women who had developed a penchant for making beaded jewelry, most of which belonged in a crackerjack box. But I broke down and bought a wallet. This booth was a leather goods vendor, who wasn’t wearing fifteen pounds of make-up, a boob job or a blonde wig. He was from Weeletka, Oklahoma USA, but I think his products were probably right off the boat from China. But I needed a wallet and it was priced right. Having cruised by all the booths we decided we had all had enough. I have to admit that I left the fairgrounds rather disappointed. Was it because I’m older now, and the excitement has gone out of me? Perhaps it was because I didn’t go on any rides, and therefore didn’t have an opportunity to throw up on anyone? Or maybe it was because my husband didn’t offer to try and win me a giant, stuffed Scooby-Doo (although he did buy me an ice-cream). Who can say why this event left me sadly cold and wanting? Funny really, I guess it is all about perspective. At 15 years old, seeing those lean gypsy boys was more thrilling than any Ferris wheel ride – At 50 years old, all there was to see was a bunch of pigs’ arses…… More Later Jude the porker