FUNFAIRS WERE CUNNINGLY DESIGNED child-catching traps. Bright flashing lights, bright coloured rides and bright E-numbered snacks. Everything shouted: ‘This is where all the fun is had and if your parents don’t take you they don’t really love you!’

I looked round at the mini rollercoaster, the spinning teacups and the lurching plane rides and tried to forget one of the many Daily Mail articles my mother-in-law had sent me about funfairs’ poor health and safety implementations leading to severe concussions and crippled children.

‘Mama mama mama, look look look!’ Gigi pointed to a woman pushing a cart advertising Haribo ice cream. ‘Please please please?’

I sighed. If we were going to go for the full funfair experience we might as well load them up with sugar and sweets to puke out on one of the rides.

As I went to pay I turned to Florence. ‘Do you want one?’ She shook her head. Of course she didn’t. Her exemplary behaviour even extended to not having a sweet tooth.

I looked around at the funfair and motioned towards the bouncy castle. ‘Let’s set the kids up there.’

The massive Mickey Mouse-decorated bouncy castle, with several different turrets and a netted centre that contained a giant ball pit, looked the least likely to sever limbs.

‘How much?’ Frederick asked the surly man in front of the velvet rope cordoning off entrance to the bouncy castle.

‘Ten quid – ten minutes.’

‘Seriously?’

The man just held out his hand. Gigi and Florence had already ducked under the rope and were tugging off their shoes. Frederick and I each handed over a ten-pound note.

‘I don’t care if they get bored after two minutes,’ I said, ‘they’re staying on there until he drags them off. Unless . . . do you think we can expense it?’

He laughed. It was a nice sound. ‘Are you going to eat that?’ He motioned towards Gigi’s melting ice cream.

‘No, you can have it.’ I held it up to him, implying for him to take it. But instead he leaned down and took a bite of it. So yes. There it was. I had just fed him ice cream.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

We stood there staring at each other.

‘I . . . I meant, take the whole thing. Really, it’s fine. I don’t want any of it.’

‘You should have a bite at least.’

There was no way to lick an ice cream in front of someone staring at you without it looking suggestive.

‘Lex!’

I spun round to see my friends Shona and Frankie. Shona’s five-year-old daughter Willow was next to her, holding her hand and clasping a violin case in the other.