Closed until further notice.

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Last night I was curled up on the couch with Horatio watching My Kitchen Rules, as we tend to do. Horatio commented that he didn’t really like Pete Evans, and I complimented him on being so trendy. For indeed Pete Evans is a polarising character and it is very fashionable not to like him at the moment because he tried to harm babies by making them eat liver, or something like that.

Not a day goes by without an article being published about Pete, or Sarah or any of the dozens of newly minted Wellness Guru’s talking about pickling cabbage or having a kombucha enema, and then the medical community gives them all a smack up the side of the face with a piece of bread and tells them to get over themselves.

Anyway, back to My Kitchen Rules, where the contestants were set up at Luna Park in Sydney, and their challenge was to feed a group of service personnel “Carnie Food with a Twist.” My favourite contestants Jac and Shaz did well with their Banana Spring Rolls and were saved from SUDDEN DEATH.

Watching the footage of Luna Park bought back some sweet, sweet memories. One of them sticks out, as it is an incident like this one that you tend not to forget.

My parents were freshly separated and I spent every second weekend with Dad, and he did what a lot of single dads do which was to spoil their kids rotten on the weekend to make up for the fact that they were not around as much. Don’t deny this doesn’t happen, (apart from complete deadbeat dads who deserve a special place in hell).

Anyway, we were at the newly re-opened Luna Park which previously had been closed due to a dreadful fire that had claimed seven lives on the Ghost Train Ride. My little cake hole had been stuffed with all the good carnie food like dagwood dogs, fairy floss and creaming soda spiders. Then we lined up to ride the mighty ROTAR, which basically works like a big salad spinner.

The ride span slowly, then faster and faster and faster until we were all stuck to the sides like bugs on a windscreen. I recall screaming and screaming as the faces of my co-riders blurred into one. I would like to pop the word vortex into this sentence somehow, but I am not quite sure where.

After what seemed to be at least 4 hours of spinning, I started to feel quite unwell. My face was pinned to one side. I noticed that my long hair had fanned out like a mermaids beside me but as soon as I started to shout out that I needed it to stop right now please, out of my mouth shot my lunch.

It travelled on an outwards projectory for 2 millimetres before the force swept it back into my long luscious locks. This quiet act set off a series of sympathy vomits from co-riders, as the ride operator started shutting down the ride.

Later I emerged up the stairs a pariah. Everyone was staring at me. I went over to Dad, who sent me into the bathroom with my horrified older sister Mrs Ryan, and it was there as I pulled chunks of Dagwood Dog out of my hair, that I heard the announcement.

“The Rotor is closed until further notice.”

Harry liked this story when I retold it to him last night and I hope you liked it too.

What is your favourite ride?