Not tame at all

I’ve loved old fashioned fairground carousels since I was three years old and got taken to see the steam fair that pitched up on the fields near our home.  The looming, gaudily painted creatures mounted on their shining poles were magnificent and other worldly and totally alive. Choosing one to ride was not to be taken lightly; the gorgeous colours were not enough to go by. Staring up at the faces of each fabulous beast I felt almost as if I was being chosen by the horse, and the sense of recognition when we found each other is surely something every child would understand. These horses are elemental beings; it really wouldn’t do to get the wrong one.

I still love carousel rides, but as an adult it feels different – tamer, and more nostalgic. There is still a sense of recognition when I find the horse I want to ride but they don’t feel quite so alive as they once did.  Their ornate beauty (as marvellous and fine as any Hindu temple carving) is wooden and oddly stilted; they are the product of a master artisan, nothing more.

And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. I took my ride and then took some photographs, expecting to capture nothing more than the lurid, glossy creatures that most of us grown-ups see. But when I checked the pictures I found in some of them the carousel horses of my childhood galloping across the screen, wild and exhilarating and most certainly not tame at all.

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