When I was little, fairs were about those miniature doughnuts, eight for a quid, and sitting on lacquered horses while grandparents watched on with glee. In later years, they were about rollercoasters and shooting rifles at ducks in the hope of winning a cuddly toy and scoring a kiss. Then being chased away by travelling lads who didn’t take kindly to our ways.
My days attending fairs are mostly over. It’s just one of those things, isn’t it? How frequently would anyone wish to go to a fairground and shoot ducks and hoops, race digitalised horses or whack-away gophers before they resolve to ruin your day? But I’m an adult now with obligations. One is visiting bars and such to tell people whether they’re any good. Fairgame, an indoor fair and bar, is one.
