Candy Floss

After the brocante, we set off for the the music festival, our suburb's contribution to the Paris Music Festival. Our neighbour, who is a local councillor, let it be known that there was free candyfloss for the children, so we had to go. I do understand the motivation, the glamorous American word 'candy' and the almost spiritual appeal of the pink cloud.

I was a little unnerved to see couples with children walking in the opposite direction of the event, and to see a lot of 16 year old girls wearing - well, wearing what I used to wear in the 1980s when I was 16, going in the direction of the event.

I entertained V, the neighbour's 12 year old son, with tales of how, in the 1980s, we had to lie in the bath to shrink-fit our jeans, and as they didn't have elastic in those days, we were unable to sit down. V stared at my middle aged sausage legs, clearly unable to believe.

'So, you couldn't take them off then?' he ventured.

'Of course not - you had to wear them to bed. Of course, you could only get into bed by standing at the end and dropping like a felled tree...'

It is my duty to undermine the credibility of 'les slims' as they are known here, the beastly things are a health hazard and very unkind to middle aged women - indeed to anyone over the age of 16.

200 yards from the event I heard one old lady say to another,

'Well, it's bearable from THIS distance' and then I knew for sure it was not going to be my scene.

Sure enough, on arrival, there was one of those bands of youths bashing out - well, bashing out the sort of thing that we used to have to endure in the 1980s.

Using sign language we queued for the candyfloss.

V disappeared with a crowd of dubious characters with black sticking up hair.

R drifted to the back of the crowd and became mesmerised - I had to drag him away. When we got far enough away from the band he could be heard muttering

'Can I have another candyfloss?'

'This music is rubbish' said B, 'It doesn't make any sense'

V's mum found V and told him he had to go home with me. V was relieved, even he

did not like the music, although he was wearing what is, from my perspective, an ugly cheap looking 1980s hooded top and tight jeans which dangle a bit under the bum and bind your thighs together, and gives the impression of being the sort of trendy youth who would.

The boys walked on ahead. I was thrilled to find a beer can with a blue ring-pull. I spent some time twisting and pulling it off without damaging it. I rushed inside,

'Look, B' I said excitedly, handing over my find.

'Ah' said B, 'Well, thank you Mummy, but I'm not really collecting them any more, much - er at all'.

Ring-pull currency has crashed, value on the stock market, NIL.