The Dispatch is three years old this month! To celebrate, we’ve unlocked the archive. That means for the next few weeks you can read Birmingham’s quality, independent journalism entirely for free. Hurray!
Against: once you’ve had to evacuate a pack of elves, you never see a Christmas market the same way again — Jess Berry
Have you ever seen the Christmas wheel being put up? Seriously. Have you stood in Centenary Square, swaddled against the harsh November winds, and taken it all in? If, like me, hulking metal fairground rides are one of your biggest fears then let me tell you: it's both exactly what you’d expect and more terrifying than you could ever imagine.
I’ve had the displeasure of watching the erection of a big wheel at least once a year, every year for the past decade. What scares me most is the sheer speed of it all. From the first bolt to the final screw, the whole monstrosity is thrown up in a matter of hours. How can I be expected to put my life into its humungous, swinging hands? It hardly sparks seasonal magic.
Then again, I’ve never been their ideal customer: I think the general cluttering of city centre streets with festive fare from October onwards is nothing short of a tragedy, an affront to my lunchtime walks. Then, when the doors of the wheel’s cages are thrown open just days into November, you can expect to pay £8 to white-knuckle grip a plastic seat – opposite a stranger – as the ride sways to the sound of mechanical grinding. All to get a good peep at the facade of the library.
I want to see a risk assessment; I will not be making merry. By no means do I allege that the good contractors of the Christmas big wheel are endangering punters. But I would like you to cast your minds back to December 2024, dear readers, when its one-time neighbour the City Star Flyer dropped unexpectedly to the ground mid-spin – crashing and injuring more than a dozen unsuspecting riders. For unnecessary and space-consuming spectacles, they are most anxiety-inducing. Festive?! I cannot look at the wheel, nor the ice-rink, without thinking only of every single Final Destination film. If you absolutely must have an adrenaline rush to feel Christmassy, perhaps try Drayton Manor, or the Snowdome – both only 20 minutes away by train. Neither require a disruptive build to be packed down a mere 40 days later.
But then I hate Christmas markets — and not just ours. If you’d like to hear my Scrooge-like thoughts on Vienna’s offering, please do drop me a line. And don’t get me started on Manchester’s. I won’t entirely disregard the noble efforts to bring our twin city, Frankfurt, a little closer each year but this is an opinion piece and I have little that’s nice to say.
This story is free to read - you just need to join our mailing list. And why wouldn't you? By becoming a Dispatch subscriber, you'll get our scoops, features, and insights, in your inbox, the second we hit publish. No card details required.
Already have an account? Sign In
