... And perhaps it is a good thing for most of us that it is not.
Alright, whose bright idea was it to have a fairground in Manchester city centre?! Because - despite the thumping, loud dance music, influx of teenagers (argh, teenagers!) and fatty smells of mini doughnuts being deep fried - it was actually a pretty good one. There's few man-made things as visually stimulating as a fun fair, with its neon signs, clashing pastels, and oversize stuffed toys, strung up like prize cuts of meat.
Walking around the fair this evening brought back memories of high school: when you simply had to make the annual pilgrimage to Knutsford fair else you may as well be dead you were that uncool; when Northwich fair came to town and you went on the Hearts & Diamonds ride even though you were terrified, just to try impress the boys; and when you went to Winsford fair with your mate Kerry and she was sick all over the Waltzers seat, the liquid slowly inching itself towards you as the ride span.
I'm sure these experiences aren't unique, neither are the tender feelings that go along with the memories. But I am now more than happy to be a casual observer of those teens on the rides, because I never really liked the nervous stomach churning before the ride, the dizzy headache after, nor the feeling that I was doing this for the wrong reasons.. for the other kids in school, and to try and fit in. I'm glad I just do things for me now, whether I fit in or not.