Picture from Simpsons Wikia

Every day for the last week I have been taking photographs on the Forest Recreation Ground to chart the progress of the building of Goose Fair. A lot of people do this, and they are perfectly entitled to as it is a public park. It is fascinating to see how the fairground is put together in such a short space of time, and of course throughout Nottingham there is a frisson of excitement rushing through our veins (with the added anxiety this year of wanting to see if the bowl is back) in anticipation of next Wednesday.

The photographs can be viewed on my official Facebook page.

There I was minding my own business when from out of nowhere I was approached by two men who asked what I was doing. Although it was fairly obvious what I was doing, I answered politely that I was taking photographs as the pointing a camera and pressing a button wasn’t enough of a clue for this pair. They then asked me why, and more insultingly asked me who I was. When I answered that my name is Steve Oliver I followed it straight up with “yes, that one” as if that would make a difference. Of course this new information meant nothing to them and I didn’t think they would be impressed if I started reeling off my CV to them. For a laugh I toyed with the idea of saying I was from immigration, (I was wearing a suit as I was on my way from court), but it could have resulted in the whole fair rounding on me and burying me in the forest with my camera up my arse.

I settled for telling the truth, that I was taking photos of the fair because I like to. The smaller one then asked me for twenty pounds as a fee for permission to take photographs. As first I laughed and thought he was making a joke with me to break the ice but he asked again. The atmosphere changed between us. I was not going to pay to take photos in a public area, which was unfortunate as they were adamant that I was. As I tried to edge out of their way they started to get a little too close, I asked which fairground ride was theirs and they didn’t answer so the penny dropped that they weren’t actually anything to do with the fair and were just trying their luck. Keeping my hands over my pockets as much as I could, I weighed up my options in the way that a lot of us have found ourselves doing; my two options were to either kick the bigger guy in the bollocks and run away, or punch the smaller one on the nose (thus temporarily blinding him) and run away. Neither action was needed thankfully, as I told them to stick the twenty pounds up their arse and walked away. Walked away very quickly.

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