Corkscrewed

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On this the third day of my completely arbitrary countdown to a festival I've never taken part in. On this my third post loosely inspired by the subject of fear...

I have never seen the point of fairground rides. I've been on a ferris wheel, and it felt exactly like slowly going around in a big circle. I've been in a dodgem car, and it felt exactly like slowly gliding around, deliberately banging into strangers - a bit like gatecrashing a party where everyone's taken both barbituates and cocaine.

But the 'real' rides are the ones supposed to be scary. The ones that spin you round like a record baby, drop you vertically like being dumped in a text message from the love of your life, or throw you sideways like, well, like the love of your life used to do to your emotions before they did you a favour by dumping you.

I've been persuaded to try one or two. They didn't inspire fear. They didn't make me throw up. They weren't exciting. They were just rather unpleasant, and quite annoying. Like falling downstairs, or some idiot opening a car door just in time for your bicycle to crash into it.

And so on the subject of not being afraid, and being dumped, today's story is called 'Lost Hearts'.

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