The allure of the Carnival has always been strong for me. As a child I did not necessarily want to run away and join the circus- don't get me wrong. Given the opportunity now I would leap at it, but I have no recollections of dreaming to run away. I say this in full knowledge that I am a hypocrite. I did not dream of running away. I actually did. I was 7, and I rationalised needing to leave home because 'I was ready, and I would have to do it soon anyway'. Kid logic, right? I packed my two favourite dresses and a carrot. Then I tied it in a neat little handkerchief on the end of a stick that I spent a good hour looking for. Because, really, thats what you do. You tie your goodies on the end of a stick. All the movies say so. Then out I went to bid my parents farewell. So long! Toodle-oo! Adieu! Off I go into the great unknown, searching for the troop of Cirque du Soleil performers I had seen the night before. As you could imagine, my parents saw me off with bemused expressions of exasperation, watching as I got half way down the drive and decided my leave could wait until after dinner. Unfortunately the attraction of regular meals kept my leave for slightly longer than I anticipated. So this here, this blog is my attempt at recapturing the magic I once had as a child. I'll be damned if it got away so easily. Ohh! Dinners ready!