luna park

August 27, 2019

The luna park features big in my childhood memories. My brother, cousins and I used to pile into our nanny’s tiny red Peugeot and head for the Vougliagmeni travelling fair most nights of the week. Our dinner was corn on the cob and ice cream, followed by a snack of roasted pumpkin seeds. Snow White’s skirt was always a thrill, as was the roller coaster. The CNE is vastly bigger than the luna parks of my childhood, but the atmosphere –– the candyfloss, twinkly lights, shrieks and loud music –– is similar. If not for One Republic blaring across the grounds, it could be 1984. I only went on a one ride this year, but it was just enough of a thrill to send me back to 1984. Interestingly, my one and only memory of my parents together, (they separated when I was six) is at a luna park near our family home in Surrey. The four of us, My Mum and I in one cart, and my Dad and brother in another, were high above the ground when my Dad started screaming, “stop the bloody machine” at the top of his lungs. My Dad was wearing a pin stripe suit. They definitely didn’t stop the ride.


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