The Carnival of Delights in Waterford

I started this by asking the other grannies what to call it and got a variety of answers, including; merry-go-round, carousel, roundabout, hobby horse and hurdy gurdy. Being more of a swinging boat and chair-o-plane kind of child, I simply couldn’t remember which?

All I know is that the first time our girl became fixated on the carousel/merry-go-round in Winterval, she was still only a babe in her mother’s arms. The other kids were clamouring to be allowed to have a go and she just stared with a very focussed look of alarm at the horses and their tiny jockeys speeding past us. After a time, her eyes filled with a look of awe and while we waited for the queue to abate, she never took her eyes off the magical scene.

Too small to be allowed on that day, the following year and the year after, she was still too little to be allowed to ride the horses of her dreams. Each time, she threw a wobbler when she was refused and had to be carried away by her Dad to the back of the crowd to save the ears of everyone in the queue. Even over the pounding sound of Jingle Bells, that sad wail could be heard all over Waterford and other parents smiled in commiseration.

Her Dad, as was the tradition for local schoolboys, had been one of the lads working a merry-go-round “Down Around” in Tramore during the summer holidays. Ever since I had mistakenly taken him on the Waltzer when he was still only a baby and far too young, he had been hooked on any kind of carnival ride. If anyone understood these tantrums and the desire for speed, it was himself.

The next year our littlest was just about allowed to go on the “roundabout” with her big sister. We stood watching with huge anxiety because just as the carousel took off an argument broke out on the slippy saddle of the horse and the little one seemed to be sliding off to one side.

“Pull her up,” her Mam shouted at the bigger girl. The young lad helping out, grabbed at the shiny poles now flying around and up and down at the same time. Our small girl was rescued and propped back up into the tight grip of her sister. Her poor Mam muttered a few curses under her breath and we stood transfixed as the pair of them flew past us, completely out of our control.

If ever a couple of girls looked deliriously happy, this was the moment. As their Grandad said, “You can keep the visit to Santa and the hot chocolate with marshmallows, a go on the magic roundabout is your only man!” Again and again they flew past grinning from ear to ear and trying to catch our eyes with a look of power and determination.

When it was over, the little one was a slight bit dizzy and, although she said, “Go again?” she seemed somewhat relieved to have it over with. Her older sister, now the sensible mature one, was very keen to demonstrate that she was not a bit afraid and would prefer to go on the Big Wheel. “I’m a big girl!” she insisted.

The following year, the moment for our littlest girl to go on the merry-go-round alone finally arrived. For the first time our outing to Winterval would include her riding solo on a shiny coloured horse while whizzing around John Roberts Square like a whirling dervish. The excitement was palpable and I brought my camera to capture it.

It was early in the morning and she had the entire carousel to herself. Her face was a picture of zen transportation. When it was over she was quiet and thoughtful. All she said was, “Granny, that was even better than a real horse!” Of course, it was a fantastical experience for this child of imagination and dreaming. A little girl who wanders around the world talking to insects and tracing her hands all over the painted walls of the city, humming Christmas songs. Being the star of her own story that day was far more enthralling than the humdrum of the real world with all its challenges and expectations.

But that’s not where it all ends of course. Every year we watch them grow and change. Our privilege is to be there quietly observing their confidence strengthen and their ambition increase. What starts on a Merry-go-round eventually ends up in a Disney Theme Park!

And you need to have nerves of steel for that carry-on. Until, hopefully, one day it will be the turn of the great-grandchildren to experience the everlasting tug of the carnival of delights, living life to the full.