All the fun of the fair.

God, I loved fairs as a kid.

The music, pop songs of the day, the cheap boiled (yes boiled!) burgers
and candy floss, impossible to eat without it infesting your hair.
Somehow, 'the fair', like cider, your parents thought (wrongly)
was harmless and would allow you to go.
There were boys in gangs, girls in gangs, even dogs in gangs.
Was it just me? But there always seemed to be a gang of dogs hanging around drawn by the smell of boiled mechanically recovered head meat.

Fairground workers, (always men) were confident and sexy.
They'd brashly call you over and lure you onto their rides. You and your friends would cram yourselves onto a waltzer, longing for the 'man' to spin you. And spin you they would. Their Aramis sodden bodies heightened by sweat and power.
The energy generated by our pulsating pre-pubescent hormones would have powered a small London suburb for a year.