Saturday: We arrived at the Doddington site around 8.30pm;
we had decided that it would be better to leave London later than
get caught up in the outgoing traffic.
Saturday started quite cold and then got hotter and hotter as the
day progressed, thankfully there was a good breeze blowing that
cooled us off a bit. We set up the Grymm Tooms Travelling Museum
and waited for the throng of eager public hungry for knowledge...and
we waited some more...Gosh is that the time already...and waited...
There seemed to be hardly anyone about, the fun fair seemed as
devoid of paying public as our little street. When people came around
we had real problems holding their attention, in fact we were lucky
if they listened to us for more than a minute. The other odd thing
was they seemed to avoid Tooms Medical Marvels with such
regularity that poor Laz was starting to get a complex and I’m sure
that I had a glimpse of him checking his fly or sniffing an armpit
now and then!
Apart from minimal attention spans I suspect that most people had
come down to pass the time while waiting for the World Cup
to start. It was not until we were putting things away that we had
a decent conversation with a family. There must be an invisible
sign that tells the public that the best time to catch our act is
just as all the stuff is being put away.
We had dinner with some friends in the evening which was great
as we tucked into home grown chicken. Afterwards we returned to
the street and sat around the fire and took part in the usual stories
and drinks. A few people had gone down to the beer tent and one
or two were now thoroughly possessed by Bacchus, they sang and gyrated
in Dionysian delight into the early hours.
Sunday came hot and still. And it got hotter and hotter
until Laz and Cassandra were sagging in their seats under the impact.
Even Laz’s candle drooped and buckled until it looked like a skeletal
finger pointing, in vain, at the nearest water bucket. Come to think
on it; what was that poor candle doing out there? Strangely enough
the previous night’s revellers looked surprisingly lively under
I like to pick out comments that the public make at shows and this
weekend I give a joint prize: An old gentleman who told me that
he was not in the very least impressed by anything I had to show
or say – that’s a first! The other was a lady who said “Sorry but
it’s far too hot to stand here for more than a couple of minutes
talking to you” she was in modern light clothing. I would also at
this point, so to speak, thank Phil and Jayne of WestPoint
Sutlers for their hospitality as we sat in the shelter of
the little shop on the prairie.
So there you have it, apart from being a great social event, not
a lot happened and for everyone concerned the Doddington Country
Show was flattened as if by Zulu
Impi; Wayne Rooney and the World Cup making up the horns and
the searing, intolerable, hotter than dragon guano heat making up
This is Professor Leonidas Grymm heading for the fridge...