Funfairs

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People here go to funfairs, some people go twice a week. They look forward to it.
The whole af-fair (apologies) began when I exitted the classroom and walked into a semi-circle of giggly girls. Many of these females dye their hair blond and straighten it, so I have difficulty remembering who is who, and meeting three classes of thirty in three days doesn’t help. I walked directly into their trap, attracted by the welcoming smiles. A blond one asks me if I want to go to the “funny fair.” I agree.We walk together across town, and a brunette’s enthusiasm peaked when she discovered she was born on the same day as me, in the same year. Three boys joined us and they proceeded to kiss their girlfriends. A custom in Belgium is to frequently talk of your amoureux, it is even better if he is there with you, or if this is not possible, to show the language assistant innumerable photos of him.The fun fair attractions had the usual sinister neon lights and aggressive spray paint. I thought I might as well quit being such a cynical sissy and go whole hog, so I bought my ticket for the ride they’d picked, the most daunting one there (propelled into the air on a sort of levvy and twisted upside down in the process, stock fairground business). Before boarding, I ask the attendant whether I should take my boots off. This is when I began to have qualms.This man had a pot belly, a bushy moustache and bushy grey eyebrows. He was bald and had a very round head. He said, “are they your boots?” and I said “yes, but should I take them off?” He asked me again whether these boots belonged to me, so I asked again whether he thought they might fall off, and got the same reaction as before so I said just that, no, they weren’t mine so he grumbled and walked off. I strapped myself into my seat. The ride itself was terrifying. I kept flying about my seat and slipping because I’m quite puny. More often than not I was upside down, at least at level two of the Eiffel Tower. I was also thinking that I’d lose my giant pink hairclip. The whole time they played 80’s music on repeat and groaned incomprehensible words that bellowed out a megaphone. As I flew about above Liege I understood why the bushy man couldn’t answer me. He must have lost plenty of brain cells from flying about in his machine. Maybe that’s why Belgium doesn’t have a government at the moment. I still have my pink clip though. Lucky. And a blond-haired girl wondered if I wanted to go to the funny fair again today. I politely declined, along with a karaoke invite.

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