In true village fair tradition, we awoke to gale force winds and torrential rain which meant that the favoured mode of dress was going to be wellies and hi-visibility rain ponchos; 
the bright luminous ones that could be seen from outer space.
As the kitchen was a bustling hive of activity and strictly out-of-bounds whilst my mother was putting the finishing touches to her cakes; breakfast was going to be a muesli bar and orange juice but I consoled myself that I might be able to score a bacon butty at one of the refreshment tents if the verger was in a benevolent mood and allowed me a break.
I reported for car park duty nice and early to be greeted by my Dad’s allotment buddies Sid and Ernie who had been assigned the security detail hoping that they would get the opportunity to bodily evict their nemesis, our neighbour Billy Big Potatoes who was one of their competitors again in the produce class. Clearly Arnie or Steven Seagal weren’t available for the gig!
“Name?” said Sid whilst gazing at his clipboard
Really? As they had known me since I had been a twinkle in my Dad’s eye I pointed out that having not yet had my coffee I was a woman on the edge and they may want to rethink their security strategy. Ernie quickly determined that I was not a morning person and prudently offered me a cuppa from his flask which I suspected had been fortified with some of my Dad’s dubious moonshine. Fortuitously, I was able to decline on account of the verger hailing me from the other side of the field.
Reporting for duty with the other car park marshalls, we were divided into teams of two and presented with the County Fair equivalent of the Holy Grail, our walkie talkies, with strict instructions that we were in no way permitted to abuse the airwaves. I was paired up with Erin who was one of the local farmer’s daughters and had been engaged to Tommy,
the village postman another a car park steward, for the past fifteen years. As neither of us had succeeded in making it up the aisle of our local parish church, I thought we would get along together famously particularly as I knew where she could pick up a really cheap never-been-worn wedding dress.
After patrolling the car park and setting up the barriers, cars soon started to arrive. The Fire Brigade who were attending the event in a PR capacity were one of the first to arrive and I waved to my former school friend who was driving the engine today. As children, we had nearly torched his house attempting to smoke our first cigarettes so I made a mental note not to engage him in conversation anywhere near the barbecue or the hog roast not wanting to lose my newly tinted and shaped eyebrows by tempting fate a second time.
One of the next cars to arrive was Nauseating Nigel who had been my cheating fiancée Serial Shagger’s suspect choice of Best man for the wedding that never was, who whilst revving up his BMW proceeded to tell me what I had missed when I’d given his friend a swerve. As I was not at my physical best owing to the adverse wet weather conditions and looked like I’d taken make-up tips from the Joker in Batman Returns, he pointed out that as I had let myself go it was no wonder Serial Shagger had drop-kicked me to the kerb in favour of my former best friend. I fought the urge to direct him to a car parking space in the next county and decided instead to use my powers for good thereby allowing him to park in an allocated space.
Next up was the Vicar who was keen to make amends for last years cake fiasco had somehow been manipulated into volunteering for the worst job in the world of judging the Bonniest Baby Competition. As I realised he was a “dead man walking” I allowed him to park ringside in order that he could make a quick getaway from the mob of torch & pitchfork wielding Showbiz Mommies when their little angels didn’t win the coveted title.
The rain continued to bucket down and I sneaked off to a Burger wagon aptly named “Get Stuffed” for a quick bite whilst the verger was distracted by a parking violation, not realising that the afternoon was going bring with it a whole heap of surprises.
Want to see what happens next then check out Part Two
“Get Stuffed” is truly an inspired name Dallas … on so many levels. I certainly wouldn’t want to be in the Vicar’s shoes. ~Terri
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I always dine in the most upmarket catering venues!
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Love reading your account of the villagers. Can’t wait to find out what happens next.
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I feel sometimes it’s a bit like living in the Village of the Damned
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Haha! Well, at least it’s never dull.
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Once again, thanks for starting my morning off with some good chuckles. Waiting for the next installment. 🙂
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Happy to oblige after all a day without laughter is a day wasted
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Do I need to hop across the pond and take care of the Nauseating Nigel? What a SOB! I’d like to shove a little American crass up both of their…well, you know.
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I’m with C & C….what a DOUCHEBAG! Love the story tho…so easy to visual you and your surroundings…can’t wait for the next part. (don’t worry, i’m laughing WITH you, not AT you…really) xo
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It’s nice to know I have a couple of minders fighting my corner. I contemplated letting his tyres down and decided to take the higher ground …. for now! And Rhonda, I am always laughing at myself for being such a numpty
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okay…you’ve placed yourself on this wall…i just gotta!
😉
numpty dumpty sat ‘top the wall
but numpty dumpty was not there to fall
she was telling her story, reciting her tales
to one and to all who love her regales (? leave it)
these adoring fans, her minions i’d say
were stewed and steamed by ‘Nauseous’ that day
his despicable manners and vindictive gall
were enough to make US sick and climb ‘top the wall
to rally for numpty and give her a hand
for taking the high ground, with her we stand
“but best you be warned, you nauseating putz
invest in protection for your puny nutz
an ocean between us there just may be
but the long arm of friendship spans the sea
we may not be present, physically speaking
but a storm we can summon, havoc wreaking
you won’t know how, and you won’t know when
but trust when we tell you you’ll know, if again
you open your gob-hole and insults are spewed
your sarcasism, rudeness, and gall you’ll rue
the height of the ground will no longer matter
what will is your nutz will be nothing but spatter
of wrinkly old flesh and your reason for living
no hope of kiddies, no spawn you’ll be giving
if you don’t believe us, just follow this blog
you’ll see no toleration of malicious dogs
so shut the hell up and mind your own business
if you do you just might keep your nutz, your ‘his-ness’
HA…well THAT came out of nowhere!!
😆
felt good though!
xo
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What a fab tonic for my rainy afternoon; I’ve just read it to my Dad. You are so talented Rhonda! Is there no end to your talents? Bless you for that it’s cheered me up and hopefully will inspire me – keep your fingers crossed for me on 12th cos what I’ve put together so far wouldn’t light a match let alone an agent
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i like that…as gin and tonic is my fav. drink. 🙂
and i’m happy any time i can gleen a smile from you!
fingers, toes, eyes…all crossed, but i KNOW you are being too critical of yourself as to the pitch. you are gonna grab them by the bollocks!
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what…you didn’t like my poem? 😉
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Must check it out – trying to sort out my #pitchmad pitch so thought I’d stay off wordpress but I keep peeking so it’s not working out so well!
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haha. make sure you run your final pitch by us yeah?
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Love your nicknames for the characters in your real-life stories. Whenever I try to imagine where you live, I always think of Keeping Up Appearances because it is the only British show I’ve really watched! (Apart from Downton Abbey but the time period is wrong) It already seems this story is off to an interesting start. I hope Nauseating Nigel fell into a cake or that he was the recipient of a face full of pie in a pie throwing contest (very popular State side, not sure if it is England as well?).
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My mum definitely has a touch of the Hyacinths – the pictures of the village is where we live but I’m having to rely on my diva photographic sidekick and he takes the most random shots so I was a bit stuck about which ones to post – who wants to see a close up shot of the old red phonebox
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We Americans love those phone booths (what we call them)! It is a study abroad rite of passage to take your picture inside one when you visit London. We think they are the quaintest things ever!
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Great stuff, looking forward to part 2
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Thank you; sadly we only have one tea shop in our village and its not like any of the fab ones you visit. Even the old thatched restaurant has been turned into a chinese restaurant and not even a good one at that
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That’s shocking, where are the good citizens supposed to get their cream teas?
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What I wouldn’t do to meet the characters we’ve all grown to know and love through your stories… 😉
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Maggie, you’d recognise them straight away without me having to introduce you; I wonder if they know I write about them!
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enjoyed reading this!
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Thank you very muchly
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Let yourself go? Did he really say this and you still used your power for good? You are so much better than I Dallas, so much better. I would have had to ask him, “What prevents your skull from simply caving in?” This as I directed him through potholes to here and beyond.
I love your descriptions and your character names. Though personally, I think you are too kind to some. Can’t wait for the next chapter!
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You are setting the scene quite calmly so far. Know it won’t last…
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You lucked out with the weather, Dallas. Hope you’re feeling well again? 🙂
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Thank goodness for the “Get Stuffed” wagon was under cover. Why does it usually have to rain at these outside village functions? Looking forward to the “whole heap of surprises. ” Sounds ominous. 🙂
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Fun story–love the characters, and am ready for part two!
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You do have the knack of good story telling and raising the anticipation of the reader for the next instalment.
Loved the tale:)
Shakti
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Oh bless you! How kind of you to say and on a day when I’ve just been looking at the same page all day and the words just don’t seem to come
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Good golly, the nerve of Serial Shaggers friend. Why is it that we cannot look our absolute stunning best when bumping into these guys?
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Congratulations on having survived such a dangerous assignment.
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Have been waiting for this Dallas!! Wish you had somehow punctured Nauseating Nigel’s tyres or run your key across his shiny BMW. Can’t wait to hear the rest. Hoping he slipped in the rain and broke a leg 😀
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I do savor every one of your posts! I confess that I go back a couple of times to reread them! The poor vicar!!! 😆
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Fab Sunday evening reading – better than Downton! 🙂
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