roll up, roll up

Inevitably, I now want to run away and join the circus. I've flitted in and out of the tent during the week and apart from taking well over 250 photographs (most of which have children in and are therefore frustratingly unpublishable), I have picked up basic devil-stick and plate-spinning skills. I've also spent time on the tight-wire (oh, rope is the layman's term, darling); which take it from me is really hard on the shoulders (it's the fan thing that you use to keep from falling off), and tonight I was upside-down in the fabrics. These are lengths of red fabric like those that people tumble down for BBC adverts. Imagine me tumbling gracefully please, an entirely better mental image than the one I have of myself with my arse up in the air.

I cam home from work tonight and looked up circus schools on the 'net. Truly, this could become my new obsession. I could add it to the lengthening list of things I do slightly well but cannot commit to actually doing properly.

No sign of me growing up yet, then.