In a large open space at one end of the hall. A company was exhibiting a unique range of bouncy castles: one shaped like a dragon, another like a pirate ship, yet another looked like a Disneyland style castle.

A couple of the Royal Princes began bouncing around the pirate ship, obviously having fun. His Royal Highness didn’t say a word, just vaguely waved his hand and bought the lot. Twenty thousand pounds worth. He also bought a full stable worth of handmade rocking horses and enough mint sweets to scare the living shit out of any concerned dentist.

Then His Highness and entourage were gone. The doors opened and in came the public.

We were really busy that day and took lots of inquiries, gave out lots of free samples. When it quieted down a little we exchanged some slush drinks and ice creams for some espressos from a coffee company and some hot delicacies from another company selling snack foods. So that was lunch taken care of.

The exhibition opening hours were 9AM to 1PM, with a break for the hottest part of the day, then a second session from 4 to 9PM.

That first afternoon we sold all the equipment off the stand. Or rather we took a fifty per cent deposit and agreed to close early on the last day of the exhibition to deliver and install the machines. We also agreed to hand over all the remaining stack of ingredients free of charge to the new owners. We were very happy bunnies indeed.

Now all we wanted to do was to appoint a distributor for our goods in the region and we would be in seventh heaven.

That evening after our banquet at Greasy Ahmeds we strolled over to Biggles Bar for a relaxing drink. It was busy so dad went for a table while I went to get us a couple of pints. It took a few seconds to recognize the grinning barman –he wasn’t wearing the white uniform with the red turban, he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Genuine Calvin Klein of course.

“Very pleased you made it Sir,” said the waiter from the hotel. “I am sure you will find the prices here more to your liking. The Cream of Manchester on draught is particularly refreshing this evening.”

“You’ve got Boddingtons bitter on draught? Here?” I asked incredulously. Then a bit more warily, “Go on then, how much?”

It was a mere three pounds a pint and it tasted like nectar.

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