LAMB: As we edged closer to the front of the queue I watched as happy-faced people boarded their gondolas, then the gears would jerk into action and they would be lifted up into the air. I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, fond of rides. Especially those that involve being more than a metre or so off the ground. But looking at your excited little face I pretended to be at ease with the whole thing. I fear my body language told a different story as I repeatedly glanced back in search of a non-conspicuous escape route away from the giant, spinning wheel before us. I turned my head ninety degrees skyward and watched the swinging gondolas rise up then go down and then rise up again with a complete and utter disregard for the laws of gravity. I looked into your wide, innocent, blissfully naive eyes. I promised you a ferris-wheel ride a year or two ago, and now, unfortunately, was the time to make good on that promise. Once in the air I did what I usually do when I’m anxious about something (or happy, or sad, or indifferent, or just hungry): I took lots of photos. With one fist tightly clenched around the bars of the gondola, of course. When we were safely back on solid ground, and before my legs and stomach recovered, you were busy searching for the next adventure.