Daytime, dusk or night, scratch below the grime and tackiness and there's a magical quality.
As a child it was special.
The smell of the candyfloss we were never allowed, the rationed rides... the imagery.
As a teenager it acquired a dangerous edge, with a magic all of its own.
The first time I went on the big wheel my bag was open, spraying change like confetti onto the people below.
On SdotYam it symbolised 50 years of independence.
I still remember the sheer terror of being unceremoniously shoved off the laundry roof on a zipline.
And this time there was unlimited candyfloss.
Alongside unlimited jugs of wine.
Willie and Victor.
With a small child it was always the ghost train and carousel, and as the mother of a grown up son I find myself drawn back to the strong imagery of the big wheel.
Now, I like the fairground as it's just waking up, and prefer my photos devoid of people cluttering up the foreground!