All the fun of the fair.

 All that fun of the fair.

It's that time of the year again. You must have noticed it by now. Springtime, in all her pomp and pageantry, has kicked off her heels again, loosened her hair, thrust her face into the air with a contented smile and just inhaled very deeply and thoughtfully. The daisies are dancing, the cherry blossom is heavy with the scent of loveliness and just glad to be alive. The tulips are still there, lingering, admiring the scenery while all around us is humanity. And that's where we find ourselves now. It's the middle of April, the traditional showers are of course temporary but nevertheless taking turns with intermittent bursts of sunshine and, when all is said and done, the British climate in all its splendour.

Across the road from here Finsbury Park, in the heart of North London, is just besides itself with enthusiasm. The joggers are still jogging which is heartening, the strollers are taking their leisurely time, boy and girl friends are in love, smiling and giggling but occasionally argumentative which is par for the course. They agree to disagree and then just keep walking. Then there are the basketball courts clearly enjoying themselves with groups of youngsters just bouncing the ball freely and openly. Around the park there are the ageless trees, tall, immovable, impregnable, a majority now covered with green leaves. 

From where you happen to be standing this is how things are supposed to be in any local park. The vocal and vociferous ducks are making their presence felt with their boisterous quacking, marching together out of small areas of the park where nobody can see them. Then they gather together by quiet ponds, gathering for their familiar ritual of lunchtime feasting, thousands of bread crumbs and all manner of culinary goodies.

It is life as it should be and there is a sense now that winter is now ancient history. Those long, dark days of January, February and March have taken their seasonal belongings with them. All is light, bright and early evening tea time feels very much like lunchtime. It's time to move forwards with confidence, creativity, energy, an insatiable desire and appetite for summertime picnics with the family, outdoor pop concerts, the healthy, invigorating air of summer. But that's a given isn't it? Life is very special and always will be but now it is spring again and how welcome does that feel?

In a far off corner Finsbury Park is alive and well, a pulsating spectacle, our childhood revisited and a joy to behold. Once again the fun fair has come to town and you can see it quite clearly and spectacularly. Shortly my wife and yours truly will become first time grandparents so this feels like a new generation simply can't wait to get out there to explore new territories, conquer impressive looking worlds and generally embrace everything around them with feeling and tenderness.

But the funfair is currently situated at Finsbury Park and it really feels as though we've been here thousands of times. The kids are on their half term Easter Holiday break, proud and obliging parents are dutifully taking their kith and kin on all of those hugely enjoyable rides while the rest of the park just gets on with the business of life. The funfair though is the one attraction that holds your attention for a while because even as a 60 plus adult there is an amusing fascination about it that may never leave you. 

Spread across most of one specific area of Finsbury Park, the pathway leading up to the site, hitherto deserted during the day, is now full to bursting point. There is a huge marquee type building that looks like a circus tent but isn't a circus tent. Maybe it's just masquerading as a circus but you can't be sure. Then there is the fun fair. There are flashing, flickering red light bulbs, heavy machinery, screaming children who just sound overjoyed, squealing with happiness and several bags of gold fishes in their hands.

It is like this every year, both spring, summer but never winter because nobody really feels like going on a carousel during the winter. But then who are we to question them even if they do decide to hold a funfair on an early day in January? It may be cold outside but in my heart it's spring to quote an old song. Life is for the living, being in the here and now. So the soundtrack of spring has never sounded sweeter.

Suddenly there is an explosion of activity. Great, hulking pieces of metal and machinery go through the motions. There are the rides with wildly swinging arms, soaring joyfully into the air for seemingly seconds and then plunging back down to the ground like some massive metronome. There are the rides that go whirling, spinning rapidly around in ever increasing circles, swooping like a bird then rising powerfully back into the sky.

Now we can hear sharp blasts of music, the latest dance tunes, the contemporary sounds which to some of us feel alien to our ears if only because we are now the parents or just the adults who used to be young. Then you notice the sign Bumper Cars and really do feel as though somebody has turned the clock back to your junior self. Are the Bumper Cars the fairground rides that used to be called the Dodgems or are they just the modes of transport where toy cars would whizz around for the best part of ten minutes? So many questions but it hardly seems to matter. You now see  young children with their parents crashing into other Dodgems delightedly, grabbing hold of the steering wheel again then laughing deliriously without a care in the world. 

In the middle of all this maelstrom of innocent joy, there are yet more rides in abundance. You may not be able to see them but you would imagine that there are those hilarious spinning tea cups that are being pulled by hydraulic mechanisms, in and out, taking your stomach with you into the bargain. There are the mini amusement arcades with one armed bandits, hundreds of small silver and gold coins and the stall where you can win anything from gold fishes or footballs if you happen to strike lucky. Then there are the carousel horses that seemed to rise and fall, rise and fall quite mesmerically. This is Britain in thrall to the fun fair, where you can always re-capture your youth in a nostalgic haze. If you want to.

Then there are presumably the mini roller coasters that may not form an integral part of the local fun fair but still going strong after all these decades and years, an unchanging part of the landscape. For some of us roller coasters have never been remotely exciting, simply some extraordinary experience that looks and feels distinctly underwhelming and not at all physically rewarding. But then we're all entitled to our opinion because we all live in a democracy and free speech costs nothing. Anything that leaves you feeling as though your whole body has gone on some frightening journey has nothing to commend it. But of course that may not be the case in which case you're definitely right. Roller coasters are brilliant.

So there we are folks. It's the fun fair season and time to abandon ourselves to childlike emotions that we may have thought we'd forgotten all about. Summertime may feel like a while off to some but Finsbury Park has reminded us of who we were once and may be again. Some maintain that we're all children of nature, still going on treasure hunts in the park, hiding and seeking, licking thousands of ice creams, pleading with mum and dad for candy floss, fish and chips and then staring around us enthralled, captivated by the wonder of it all.  Anyone for the coconut shy or the fruit machines? Oh absolutely yes.