thief of time

Sunday, April 11, 2004

Easter Show

Well, this is the time of year when many Sydneysiders head off the the "biggest agricultural show in the Southern Hemisphere". I think I've only missed a couple of shows in the years since I moved here.

Unlike previous years, however, due to different circumstances, I had to go to work the day that was free for other family members, so I didn't get there till 2 o'clock. It's an entirely different feel to the day. Our family is one of those obsessive compulsive families that likes to wake at the crack of dawn and arrive anywhere as they're opening, or preferably before. So, naturally, we're fresh and everyone around us is too.

It's very different when you arrive in the middle of the day. All around, you see marks of despair, anger and vast fatigue. When you're feeling that way yourself, you don't realise how offputting that is to a new arrival.

One young teen was sitting slumped against a stanchion looking like something dire had just happened--maybe a dumping by his girlfriend or maybe he'd just realised he'd spent an entire month's allowance in the past few hours on rides and fast foods.

Another homely scene was a father telling his young son to "eat the hotdog, or he'd bloody shove it down his throat".

Nothing like a family outing and togetherness to bring out the bonding.

Found my son and husband after a bit of searching around. They'd seen a fair bit of what they wanted to see, so sort of backtracked a bit for me, which was nice. Then, I cruelly decided what I really wanted to have a good look at was the craft pavillion. It's one of the things one does at the Royal Easter Show. You look at the District Displays, the animals and the craft.

My poor son, needless to say is not into craft. Quite often he just goes off and sits outside somewhere until I come to my senses and go to find something more interesting. This time, seeing as how I'd just arrived, he must have thought he'd do the gentlemanly thing and stay with us, though how the constant sneering criticism and rolling of eyes was gentlemanly, I'd like to know.

Unfortunately for him, the craft sort of merged into rather a lot of rows of art, very little of which he appreciated either. When I think of all the hours we spent getting him into finger painting and praising all his wonderful efforts, covering our fridge with masterpieces, it all seems a bit sad, somehow. Did none of it wear off?

Never mind, we finally left and managed to find a few more things a bit more interesting to him. I'd say eating, but that would be mean. ; ) And afterall, he did share his chips with us.

Nice day, on the whole, but I'll definitely have to see if I can manage an early start next time we go.


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