K8 the GR8

I don’t like the circus.

Apart from the fact that they let clowns run around willy-nilly all un-restrained like that and the whipped animals that look like they could use a year’s timeout in St. John o’ Gods, it’s the lack of eye contact, the feeling that you’ve been robbed of something - part of your soul perhaps - as you walk out of the tent at the end.

So, thusfar in my kid’ses life, the circus is the Accidental Terrorist’s department.  I got a text earlier on today while I was skulking on the streets of Bray;

“We’re at d fossett circus rathnew.  Ringside for free!  Lovin it”

I called him up to find out what the craic was with the word ‘free’, and learned that TAT had tried to pay entrance for himself and the kids, only to be ushered through straight to the ring-side seats without any payment at all!  They spoiled my family rotten.  They dragged TAT into the ring with some other unsuspecting audience folk and performed a levitation trick that left Puppychild in awe of her daddy, and had excellent escapades with motorbikes in cages, apparently. 

Best of all?  Not an animal in sight, apart from one or two Shetland Ponies (which are only mythical creatures anyway…) so no animals harmed here then.

I was so impressed with the sound of it all. 

Fossett’s circus is run by an Irish family, who are now the proud recipients of a grant from the National Lottery and Arts or something like that, being that they’ve recently been bumped to the bonafide ‘artists’ category, so they’re the real deal and stuff.

They’re in Rathnew for a bit.  Might even pop in meself which would be a berry big deal for me.

Here’s a happy picture of some crazy people.  Please ignore the weird colouring, photoshop hates me.  Also please ignore the VPL.