The kiddies’ merry-go-round on Brighton Pier used to really bug me.
It wasn’t the awful airbrushed art of Scooby-Do, the Teletubbies and what have you on the little cars, carriages and trucks.
It wasn’t the surly East Europeans manning the kiosk who took the tokens without even a smile for the happy youngsters standing in line.
It bugged be that the two motorbikes on the little ride were quite clearly identical Harley-Davidsons – but had “Kawasaki” emblazoned on one and “Suzuki” on the other.
And to add insult to injury, both were also labelled CBRs!
I could live with the fact they were painted Barbie pink and had the same build quality and top speed of a genuine Harley. But I felt compelled to tell every little lad and lass who clambered aboard that they were being cheated. “Look!! How can that possibly be a Kwak!?? And when the heck did Suzuki start making CBRs??!! Eh? Eh? EH!!!???”
Angry looks from Mrs J and hostile vibes from mums and dads would send me muttering to the frantic drama of the Dolphin Derby.
But seeing my little niece Molly beaming away and squealing with delight as her bright pink Barbie bike chugged along the track and seeing her wave excitedly as we came into view on each circuit (and wave with her throttle hand despite my instructions to the contrary!) was a real tonic to soothe my cynicism.
When Molly smiled like that, you never noticed the tube in her nose or the fact she was the only child with no hair.
In fact over the summer I would get impatient for Molly’s visits. I’d take my daughter Abi out of nursery for the day and, after lunch at the Marina, the families would take the rattling, bone-shaking Volks electric railway to the pier for ice-cream and fairground rides.
Abi and Molly could well have been sisters. They laughed and charged around together and made up their own games and stories.
Abi was more often than not in Molly’s old clothes, despite being two years younger. But when Molly was smiling you never noticed she was so small for her age. And Abi neither noticed nor cared that her best friend had a tube in her nose and was the only child with no hair.
I had to work Christmas Day, so I can only imagine Molly’s reaction when she awoke to find a giant pink motorised Barbie VW Beetle next to the tree.
Fortunately, I did see the mobile phone film of her bombing through the park that afternoon in her vee-dub – foot flat to the floor trying to wring every last bit of juice from the batteries!
But this time her smile couldn’t hide the unpalatable truth. Molly Moo wasn’t at all well.
Just a fortnight after being given the all-clear from her aggressive and devastating cancer, Molly was taken back to Great Ormond Street on Boxing Day.
On the Friday, I stood by her bedside as her stand-in Godfather as she was baptised. On Saturday morning, her agony over, Molly died.
Even in death she still had a trace of a smile and I’ve never seen a more beautiful or serene expression.
Now I take Abi to the pier alone.
I really love the kiddies merry-go-round at Brighton Pier. I love the awful airbrushed art of Scooby-Do, the Teletubbies and what have you on the little cars, carriages and trucks.
Abi rides one of the bright pink Barbie bikes. It’s still a Kawasaki CBR. I like the sound of that.
Next to her I can see Molly on the Suzuki CBR. They’re laughing and smiling.
When Molly smiles like that, there’s no tube in her nose and her hair is flying in the wind.
It wasn’t the awful airbrushed art of Scooby-Do, the Teletubbies and what have you on the little cars, carriages and trucks.
It wasn’t the surly East Europeans manning the kiosk who took the tokens without even a smile for the happy youngsters standing in line.
It bugged be that the two motorbikes on the little ride were quite clearly identical Harley-Davidsons – but had “Kawasaki” emblazoned on one and “Suzuki” on the other.
And to add insult to injury, both were also labelled CBRs!
I could live with the fact they were painted Barbie pink and had the same build quality and top speed of a genuine Harley. But I felt compelled to tell every little lad and lass who clambered aboard that they were being cheated. “Look!! How can that possibly be a Kwak!?? And when the heck did Suzuki start making CBRs??!! Eh? Eh? EH!!!???”
Angry looks from Mrs J and hostile vibes from mums and dads would send me muttering to the frantic drama of the Dolphin Derby.
But seeing my little niece Molly beaming away and squealing with delight as her bright pink Barbie bike chugged along the track and seeing her wave excitedly as we came into view on each circuit (and wave with her throttle hand despite my instructions to the contrary!) was a real tonic to soothe my cynicism.
When Molly smiled like that, you never noticed the tube in her nose or the fact she was the only child with no hair.
In fact over the summer I would get impatient for Molly’s visits. I’d take my daughter Abi out of nursery for the day and, after lunch at the Marina, the families would take the rattling, bone-shaking Volks electric railway to the pier for ice-cream and fairground rides.
Abi and Molly could well have been sisters. They laughed and charged around together and made up their own games and stories.
Abi was more often than not in Molly’s old clothes, despite being two years younger. But when Molly was smiling you never noticed she was so small for her age. And Abi neither noticed nor cared that her best friend had a tube in her nose and was the only child with no hair.
I had to work Christmas Day, so I can only imagine Molly’s reaction when she awoke to find a giant pink motorised Barbie VW Beetle next to the tree.
Fortunately, I did see the mobile phone film of her bombing through the park that afternoon in her vee-dub – foot flat to the floor trying to wring every last bit of juice from the batteries!
But this time her smile couldn’t hide the unpalatable truth. Molly Moo wasn’t at all well.
Just a fortnight after being given the all-clear from her aggressive and devastating cancer, Molly was taken back to Great Ormond Street on Boxing Day.
On the Friday, I stood by her bedside as her stand-in Godfather as she was baptised. On Saturday morning, her agony over, Molly died.
Even in death she still had a trace of a smile and I’ve never seen a more beautiful or serene expression.
Now I take Abi to the pier alone.
I really love the kiddies merry-go-round at Brighton Pier. I love the awful airbrushed art of Scooby-Do, the Teletubbies and what have you on the little cars, carriages and trucks.
Abi rides one of the bright pink Barbie bikes. It’s still a Kawasaki CBR. I like the sound of that.
Next to her I can see Molly on the Suzuki CBR. They’re laughing and smiling.
When Molly smiles like that, there’s no tube in her nose and her hair is flying in the wind.
