a fairground life

I went over to the site of the music event this afternoon. The marquees were well under way. I know roughly were our rides will be standing but I need the OK from the event co ordinator and he was not about. I need a definate " that's the spot" so there is no chance of any hick up. The last thing I need is a phone call asking me to move a couple of feet. Tomorrow will be a full day- hopefully build up here and then drive to Stranraer in time for opening. I like the town of Stranraer. Unfortunately the way things are unfolding for the next couple of weeks I'll be spending more time travelling back and forward than actually being there!
In the early eighties, the town accepted the Irish Punt in the shops, so we accepted it on the fair. At the end of the time my parents gave my brother and I the loose change to buy toys with (only a few quids worth). I remember getting a red battery helicopter that the rotors spun on. It had a green and red light at the rotors end. It was great until the batteries run down. My brother broke his, trying to watch it in the dark, he went into the outside toilet and turned it on. Problem was in the dark he knocked it against the panel and broke one of the rotors off. Another year, one Sunday afternoon (before Sunday trading in many towns) our cousins and us had our noses pressed against the toyshop window, checking out our potential future purchases. Suddenly a gust of wind blow open the shop door! Immediately we went and got our parents to come. They in turn got the police, who contacted the shop owner. We waited while he came, in anticipation of some kind of reward- a toy or so. Not to be- he locked the door and promptly left, not even a thank you. Oh well. I can think back thirty years of being at this place. I can think back the same for many other fairs. Our elders can think back even further, 50-60 years! How can people think that we are here today and gone tomorrow?