One blustery Sunday earlier this year, I visited the winter quarters of John Hatwell, a traditional fairground artist. Beside his caravan home was a covered trailer and inside in the fading light you could just make out the beautifully painted gallopers of the family's carousel ride, dismantled until the next fair date. These wooden horses, each given an individual family member's name, go back generations and reminded me of the time when, as a very young child, I accompanied my father to record an old Romany gypsy who bred Appaloosa horses. What I recall most is that she lived outside in what seemed to me to be an enormous teepee-like tent, even though she appeared to have a house nearby. Her spotted horses, John Hatwell's colourful gallopers. These are truly other worlds – and the showmen and women who are entertainers by right of birth bring colour and excitement to the grey routine of the communities which they visit.
