ekka

We caved in and went to the Ekka.  The last time I was at the Ekka was when I worked at the hot chips/dagwood dog stand as a uni job.  My lasting memory of that job is handing a dagwood dog to a lady in a white shirt (this is an important story detail), and overflicking the dagwood stick as I handed it to her, and watching the sauced dagwood dog leave the stick, go flying through the air and land in her white shirted cleavage.

I just mumbled sorry to that one.

So I had been reluctant to return to the scene of dagwood crime for the next twenty years.

But we did.  And it was fun introducing the girls to all the Ekka things.

 
Sheep.  And sheep poo on your shoes.  Ekka tradition tick.

 
Visiting the Woolworths pavilion and having a personal quest to see how many samples we could get.  I made it to 34 - about 10 being wine samples.  I think it was ten.  The brie was good.

 
Waiting in lines.  Ekka tradition tick.

Posing in front of the clowns with an open mouth.  Ekka tradition tick.

Going on rides.  That are not too scary.  Although I spent the whole time disaster managing what I would do if the chain snapped.  Tuck and roll.  Tuck and roll.

 
Dodgem cars.  Gab turned out to be a gun dodgem car driver.  Aggressive and accurate.

Spending all the pocket money budget on rides and not showbags.  Ekka tradition tick.

We stayed for the night entertainment in the main arena - horses, motorbikes, precision driving and fireworks - the longest fireworks display I have ever sat close to.  Cool.

And I didn't see the lady in the white shirt from the dagwood dog incident twenty years ago. Phew.