I came home from the Melbourne Royal Show last Wednesday, completely exhausted and replete with loot. (For any non-Australians not familiar with the Royal Shows – think rides and booths where you can win toys and scary, scary carnies (OK you don’t win the carnies, they are just there with the toys) and, in an Australian twist, Showbags. Which are overpriced bags of merchandise, usually chocolate and lollies, with some sort of toy.) Well, it is expected to buy a showbag or two at the show, I reasoned; so I set out on my mission. This is where it went a bit wrong. There were children everywhere, laden like beasts of burden with three, four? – nay, one dozen showbags. Each. Children weighed down with bags and bags of sugar. And toys. And sugar. Frankly, I was agog. (I was aghast. Is Marius in love at last? Ahem.) And they weren’t the $1 Bertie Beetle showbags, either. (Note to Self for next year: Bertie Beetles are awful, and even with three of them for $1, overpriced. Avoid the Beetles.)
So what did I bring home from the show?
– 2 Bertie Beetle showbags (one for a friend) – money completely wasted
– 1 x KitKat showbag – not bad. Still eating it.
– 1 x Cat On A Stick (by which I mean a soft toy hanging from a bamboo pole). Cat is currently lying on the table, ready to be given to a Good Dog when I find one. A shortage of Good Dogs around here at present.
– 1 x Hippo on a Stick (as above). Hippo is currently lying on the rug beside the computer, looking at me reproachfully. Well, he would be, if he had any eyes. For his eyes are gone; also, all of his stuffing. He lies supine amongst his polyester innards, staring blindly at the ceiling. Sorry, Hippo.