uncleduck

I first visited Barry's on a family holiday when I was around 3 or 4. Most years after that, till I was around 10 or 11 it was a must-see on a Sunday School excursion. Nowadays, it's a bit of a novelty that adults pretend to shun but really enjoy and only pretend to use the excuse of children to visit it. Maybe it's because for us, it is a trip back to our own carefree childhoods as the place has hardly changed a bit since the Queen was in nappies.

On Saturday past I 'reluctantly' allowed myself to be dragged (plus wife and a selection of nephews, nieces and their parents). For the sake of their anonymity I'll refer to them as Wife, Grandparents, Parents A (plus Nephew 1 and 2) and Parents B (plus Niece 1 and 2). It was the highlight of a family weekend to celebrate the Grandmother reaching 60 and retiring.

We trooped in the door en-masse and (as ever) were shocked at the prices. To prevent staff having to deal with lose change, all rides are priced in 'tokens'. Each token is 50p (Wife and I got a mini-pack of 24 for a tenner! Woohoo – 4 free!). Once the haggling / shock at realising this could become an expensive few hours was over, we followed our traditional route up the left-hand side of the long hall. To our right was the Experience (more on that later), overhead were the mechanised trapeze artists that were ancient when I was a lad, ahead lay.... THE HOBBY HORSES!

The Hobby Horses are a terrifying prospect, for a two-year old (Nephew 2). Nephew 1 was excited at first but after the first lap of gently going up-and-down, he looked bored. By the tenth lap, he looked embarrassed. “Been there, done that,” I thought, casting my mind back to the same spot in 1981 when I concluded that I had out-grown it. Nephew 2 got used to the thrill and squealed with delight. Nephew 1 assured Niece 1 that there was better to come. 2 tokens each (£1).

The better things were out the back door. While Nephew 1 coolly played down his lack of height, the adults squabbled over who would mind the children while the rest went on THE BIG DIPPER. Meanwhile, I wondered if we'd be safe as a less-than-distinguished ex-student of mine was involved in running the thing (he did not end his time at school of his own free will, if you get my drift...). As it happened, he was quite polite and has obviously matured since we parted company. This is not the scariest roller-coaster you'll ever come across: up we go, round the bend, 45 degree drop, back up a bit, round the bend and up a bit more, loop-the-loop, round the bend and stop. Two quid. It's all a bit rickety too – no nice smooth curves here: rather, every joint in your body feels this thing and you know before you get on that it hasn't changed one bit since you were a teenager, but we all go anyway and enjoy it.

After the adults had their fun, the kids squabbled over who would ride on the front of their roller coaster. Nephew 1 and Niece 1 got the prime spot for THE HUNGRY CATTERPILLAR. It's a typical kiddie ride with a massive apple in the middle and a 'scary' incline to race down. Nephew 1 loved it, Niece 1 wasn't so sure and Nephew 2 (aged 2), safely in car #2 with his Dad was glad to get off and head for THOMAS THE TANK ENGINE! This fearsome ride is a train that loops round on ground level a few times, with a slight side-to-side wobble. “A baby ride”, as Nephew 1 put it when refusing to go near it out of shame. Nephew 2 laughed with delight and sat with his Granny.

At this point we ignored what can best be described as a 40m tall swingboat with seats that also rotate. No idea what it's called. Didn't care. With hindsight, it would probably have been a better experience than The Experience (see below).

Next up: THE CYCLONE!! In brief, there are a number of arms with attached seats on which you sit 2/3 abreast while moving quickly on the horizontal plane, roughly tracing out the shape of a star – back and forth, back and forth. Gravity meant I kept being thrown into my wife at the edges (to her lack of delight). As we dashed to one particular side, we could reach out and almost touch Nephew 2 (who thought this was very funny). Also enjoying this one were Niece 1, Nephew 1 and their mothers. This ride has not changed a bit in years but it is still popular!

Next – waste a few 2ps on penny falls machines. I won 4p and lost 10p. The perils of gambling!

Then... THE EXPERIENCE - and what an experience it was. The central column held three arms, on each of which were seats and harnesses. I allowed myself to be talked into it (to keep Mother B company). I should have realised that any ride that required victims – I mean customers – to remove shoes in case they are thrown off is a bad idea. The mop and bucket sitting beside it also failed to deter me. Step 1 – start rotating gently in a horizontal fashion. Step 2 – arms tilt to 45 degrees. Step 3 – keep rotating while arms go up-down-up-down. At this stage we were still able to talk and it was mildly amusing. Step 4 – seats start spinning. Talking was no more.

Around two hours earlier I enjoyed a cup of tea and a white chocolate and raspberry scone in 55 North. Delicious – simply delicious. For what seemed like half an hour on the Experience (more like 20 seconds), they threatened to re-appear. Hmmmm.... I'll not go back on this one.

Eventually, it ended. The contents of my stomach remained intact and I got off, dizzily. I walked, if you can call it that, round the ride looking for my shoes – much in the style of a punch-drunk boxer who unsuccessfully trying to find his corner at the end of a round. My wife asked me if I was alright, I think. I said I was, I think. Someone asked me about the ghost train, I think. The idea of a seat appealed, I think.

THE GHOST TRAIN..... does what it says on the tin. Through the doors, a sign says “Welcome to Hell”, a pile of automated ghosts and back to daylight. My senses by now had returned.

We stopped for ice cream on the way out, apart from my wife who wanted candy-floss. The children didn't fancy it – they wondered why she was eating cotton wool. They walked back to the car with half-eaten ice creams dribbling down their arm, apart from Niece 2 who slept in her pram for most of our time in Barry's.  

There's something tacky about it – though there's something generally tacky about Portrush. There are parts of Barry's that haven't changed since my Grandfather went to the Port – which I suppose is its charm. We adults remember enjoying it as kids and knew the children in our midst would have as much fun as we did on our annual pilgrimage. In due course they'll visit Alton Towers and conclude Barry's is a bit naff and by the time they are in their 20s, they'll have fond memories of Barry's and bring their own children to enjoy it as they once did.