I imagine that, if there is a hell, it strongly resembles the Dorset Steam Fair. Great monstrous engines painted in garish colours billow foul smelling black smoke that hugs the ground.
Enormous steam organs all in competition with one another to create a a cacophony of deafening noise playing . Mud and hay and flint trampled underfoot while overhead threatening storm clouds rolls.
We wandered, until exhausted, past booth after booth at the massive outdoor fleamarket that accompanied the fair, never finding anything to buy but astonished by the array of goods for sale.
The midway was great, a place where we could glory in the basest delights of a carnival. A strange mixture of flashing lights, pulsating music and blatantly erotic images made the fairgrounds pure mischievous fun to walk along, commenting on a twenty foot tall paintings of women slipping off their clothes or munching fistfuls of popcorn and cotton candy.
We wandered, until exhausted, past booth after booth at the massive outdoor fleamarket that accompanied the fair, never finding anything to buy but astonished by the array of goods for sale.
The midway was great, a place where we could glory in the basest delights of a carnival. A strange mixture of flashing lights, pulsating music and blatantly erotic images made the fairgrounds pure mischievous fun to walk along, commenting on a twenty foot tall paintings of women slipping off their clothes or munching fistfuls of popcorn and cotton candy. It truly is at night that humanity is at its best. All that is ugly is hidden by the dark and a million lights in a hundred colours transform an ordinary paddock into a fairyland of glimmers and flickers where everything has wings. 
This evening we sent messages home in a massive missive to friends and family only to discover that the computers, because we were sending it to so many people, have interpreted our messages as junk mail and filed them away in everyones trash.
Tomorrow is Andrew and Angela’s wedding and Heather is regretting missing her brother’s big day. In fact I think we are both missing the people we left behind tonight. We are tired after the lights and the music and ready for bed.
Who would have known steam tractors had such a following?
This evening we sent messages home in a massive missive to friends and family only to discover that the computers, because we were sending it to so many people, have interpreted our messages as junk mail and filed them away in everyones trash.
Tomorrow is Andrew and Angela’s wedding and Heather is regretting missing her brother’s big day. In fact I think we are both missing the people we left behind tonight. We are tired after the lights and the music and ready for bed.
Who would have known steam tractors had such a following?
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