We could have taken our grandchildren to the circus.
We should have taken our grandchildren to the circus.
In fact, most grandparents would have taken their grandchildren to the circus. But we didn’t. It was a bit late and they were a bit busy.
So instead we took our friends.
In truth, we didn’t need to go. When we get together, it’s a bit of a circus anyway. We are even good for a circus ditty or two.
I may have said something like this before we left and there was quite a bit of slapstick retort and much circus merriment.
I wore my red shoes that night, just in case the clown broke down and they needed a quick and clumsy replacement. Certainly the clown had my husband in his sights when it came to squirting water at the audience. He even gave him an ‘I see you’ sort of hand flick which may have been to get my husband going or to make him stop.
I’m not sure which actually, as we were the sandwiches around our friends who were laughing uproariously and fully capturing the essence of the moment. I noticed a few spots of water on my friend’s jacket. Yes, the moment was fully captured.
I must admit I watched a good amount of the show through latticed fingers, digging the heels of my red shoes into the sawdust, just as I do (sometimes) as a passenger when my husband is driving just a tad too close to the car in front.
I think when you have four motorbikes travelling around the inside of some metal globe in rapid formation, it doesn’t bear fully watching.
And anyone hanging from a height causes the heart to quicken and the hands to loosely cover the eyes.
I know someone whose wife left him for the circus. I never met her, but you imagine her spending her time hanging upside down on the trapeze or doing a bit of a contortion before dinner. I actually think she was an accountant, but that’s what circus does to a girl. It makes you imagine. And it brings out the magic.
\Next time the circus comes to town, we’ll all have to put on our red shoes and dig them into the sawdust.
