Fairgrounds lit up my life

There was absolutely nothing misspent about my youth the week the fair came to town.

Teenage Kicks were the order of the day – school homework went out the window.

It was under the cover of darkness the fairground really came alive.

I was drawn by the allure of rides like the Miami Twist, The Mexican Hat and the fast cars, but it was a total sensory overload of lights, sounds and smells which made it all so exciting.

Competing sounds of traditional organ music on the Merry-Go-Round went up against the heavy bass beats blaring from loudspeakers and police-sounding sirens; twinkly lights hanging above mixed with stroboscopic special effects and allpervading smells of sizzling hot-dogs, toffee apples and whiffy candyfloss filled the air.

And – above all that – were the excited screams of young girls as they slid down the Helter Skelter or hung on, for dear life, on the Galloping Horses.

It was as if a scene from David Essex’s movie, That’ll Be The Day, had come to life on our own small-town common.

However, even if schoolwork was forgotten for a few nights, there was much to learn at the fairground. For starters, the mechanical magnificence of the beautiful, sparkling, traction engines, which provided the chugging power to keep the rides running, was an engineering dream.

But, from a science perspective, it was mastering the basic laws of physics and centrifugal force that mattered most.

When you went on a ride with a girlfriend you had to make sure you were sitting in exactly the right place… so she was thrown into your arms at every turn and spin.

Then there was the etiquette of looking cool: Singing along to the music and never holding onto the safety rail…even if your head was spinning, your eyesight was blurred, and you were in danger of throwing up!

Don’t forget the music. Fairground music was a magical education, a subversive, intoxicating, mix of skinhead reggae, vintage rock’n’roll and sweet soul sounds you never heard on Radio One or Capital.

There were elements of danger as well as excitement – and not just on the rides (I hated the upside-down ones when your change fell out of your jeans) – because it was important to keep your eyes open for out-of-town gangs turning up, looking for a scrap.

And finally, there was one golden rule: Never mess with the guys running the rides or complain about being shortchanged.

They were cool, but always a bit scary with their slicked-back hair, tattoos and bulging muscles.

They were men of mystery, living in caravans and life on the road.

All these memories came flooding back this weekend with the sad news our local Carters Steam Fair could be closing down or sold off this year.

My recent visits to Pinkneys Green were sedate Saturday afternoon jaunts when my daughters were young.

Back then, they liked the small rides and swings, but never shared my need for thrills or even the dodgems… maybe I introduced them to a Ghost Train ride on Holyport Green a little too early.

There is so much tradition about

Carters – getting stuck behind the traction engine procession around town – and the fame from being used in films and TV adver ts.

It would be such a shame to see it go. The fair was on breakfast TV on Bank Holiday Monday and there is growing pressure online for the council to provide a base to preserve the business.

As they say in the song, perhaps Maidenhead Golf Club as a permanent Fairground Attraction would be Perfect?