Country Life · Family

The Show! The Show!


A couple of weeks ago, my sister and I went to the Show in the next town.


As you do at shows and fairs, we blew our pocket money on games no one can win.

We spent ages trying to calculate the odds of each game. Anna Goanna was determined to win a big stuffed toy.


Being in the month of May, it’s supposedly meant to be autumn. It just so happened that that night Madam Weather decided to skip autumn and head straight for winter.

In lay man’s terms, ‘It was ffffreeeeeezing, dude!’

I stole some of Anna Goanna’s over priced chips to get warm.

It was a futile attempt.


When you go to small country town shows, the selection of rides are pretty modest. Even knowing that, I still want to know is why all the fun ones are for little kids.

I was too tall for the jumping castle.

Too old for the carousel.

And too big for those blow up balls you get inside of and walk/fall around in while floating in a paddling pool.

How’s a determined-never-to-grown-up-twenty-five-year-old to have any fun these days? I ask you.

We did go on the Whizzer. It was my sister’s favourite ride from a previous year. She screamed the whole time we were on it.

I screamed as well.

You scream on low-budget small country show rides too, don’t you?

Nod and say yes.


One of the highlights for me was watching the trot races.


Boy, could those horses trot!


The horse with the yellow and red rider was pretty excited about the whole race. He kept trying to break out of the trot. See how Mr. Yellow and Red Jersey’s leaning back to slow him down?

He did that for most of the race.


After an intense seven minutes (it was heart racing stuff, man!), Blue Jersey was announced the winner.



Here’s Mr Impatient.

Guess nobody told him about the Hare and the Tortoise story, huh?


The night ended with the fire works display during which I took approximately 1,243 photos of exploding air-born crackers (with my sister repeatedly saying, ‘Kate, did you get that one??’).

I later deleted 1,239 photos of exploding air-born crackers.

No dud photos of mine escape the DELETE button. If I kept them the C drive on my laptop would go on strike.

I’m also a self-confessed perfectionist.



Was it fun?

Did I freeze?

Am I broke now?

Did I take way too many photos in an attempt to improve my night photography?
No comment.

Did it teach me the mature, refined ways of adulthood?

What do you think?

xx Trouser Girl

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