Went to Bridlington again a couple of weekends back. (wiki, tourist site).
For Louise and I it was an opportunity for a lovely stroll along a near deserted beach, listening to the waves crash into the shore. For Molly it was an opportunity to sample the delights of the fun fair.
After carefully vacuuming the money out of daddy's wallet, Molly started to try to decide which 2 rides she'd be allowed to go on. It sounds harsh, but we insist on not spending the entire time on the funfair, and want Molly to appreciate what she has right on her doorstep.
Molly doesn't quite see it that way. To her, Brid means funfair. Worse yet, because mummy doesn't do rides, it's down to me to go on them with her. I've never been particularly enamoured onf rides. I enjoy a good rollercoaster, but things like the Pirate Ship and anything that has a tumbling motion is horrible.
Guess what Molly's favourite ride is? This thing below. Called the Frog Hopper:This is just great. Starts off with you going backwards, lifts the arms up and then drops you as it spins. then shoots up, drops, up, drops. Over and over and over and over.
Then, after a sickening number of spins it stops and starts going forwards, drops, shoots up, drops, over and over and over.
It is horrible.
I've never been that great on this sort of ride. Ever since my first ride on the Pirate Ship at Alton Towers I've never like that up and down motion type ride. I much prefer the strap n and go feel of a roller coaster.
Worse is my thinking as I'm on this bloody thing. Since taking Molly on these things I've started to really worry about the safety of the rides. For example; on the Frog Hopper, you're held in by a car seat belt and a front lap bar which comes down over your headand locks on the side of the seat.
As we're rocketing round all I can think of is how little effort it would take for the bar to work itself loose from the locking mechanism. There we are, her loving the thing, me pulling nice faces for Molly's benefit, and all the while I have an image in my mind of how fucked we'd be if the bar lifted.
Yet another sign of age and parenthood and how it turns your brain into something you never wanted it to be.