GO lettering beside a globe

We pulled into the field behind Spalding on Tuesday, and the lad from the council came round with his clipboard to tell us we had until Sunday, same as always. Dad's old caravan still has the globe painted on the back door, the one he did with a tin of enamel and a steady hand, and the G he added beside it because he said nobody ever bought a ticket for a picture of the world. Your handwriting is on the back of the envelope, so I know you've been reading the postcards I left at Mum's.

Business is thin. The waltzer keeps throwing a fuse and Gary has taken to swearing at it in Polish, which seems to help. Last night a girl of about nine stood by the big wheel for an hour with her nan's purse clutched in her fist, and when I asked what she wanted she said she wanted to see the other side of the map. I told her the other side was mostly sea and that sea was rubbish for fairground rides. She laughed, bought four tickets for the dodgems, and I let her drive.

I keep thinking about what Dad said when he sold the pitch in Ireland and bought the second lorry. He stood in the yard with his hands in his pockets and said the trick was never the ride, it was knowing when to shut the gate and when to open it. I think he was talking about you as much as the wheel.

So this is me opening the gate. The season ends in October and I've put money aside. Come and see the last fortnight. Bring your boots.

Love, Jo