I slept through till about four o’clock and then lay dozing
on and off before finally giving up and getting up at seven o’clock. I made
toast and peered into the Internet as I do.
There was a bit of a theme of people complaining about the
price of going to the pub; some people were blaming Brexit, and that was good
for a squabble. After all the amount of tax on a pint of beer in many EU
countries is half that charged in the UK. Even thought it was much the same
back when the UK was in the EU… The Brexit debacle was years ago.. Surely it’s
time to move on (as best we can) even if (maybe one person in
fifty understood what Brexit was all about?
There was talk about National Identity cards and people
both for and against them were posting memes featuring Nigel Farage (for no
reason that I could fathom).
I Munzed, got Wordle (stack) on the third attempt
then voomed round the garden with a bucket and trowel gathering dog dung. Those
little dogs generate a serious amount of poop.
And Steve was back on the radio this morning. I got the “Guess
the Lyrics” competition right away – “So let her go don’t start spoiling
the show it’s a bad dream”. No? – E.L.O. – Livin Thing.
We went round to Dog Club. We arrived, Bailey went straight
into a bush, brought out a lump of fox poo, strategically placed it right in
the middle of a grassed area where there was loads of space, and then rolled in
it. Foul creature.
Attendance seemed to be down but we still had fifteen dogs
along, including a new pup that put Morgan in his place (which needed doing!)
We hadn’t planned on coming home after Dog Club, but Bailey
needed a wash. It didn’t take that long to hose the fox muck from her. We then
set off to Rye and the seventy-second town
crier championship competition which was being organized by the town crier
of Rye with whom I went to school some fifty years ago.
We parked up and walked in to town and found all the criers
outside the town hall getting ready for the procession to the Gun Garden. The
drumming band led the procession, followed by the town criers, then the local
pirate club… together with loads of others we joined in at the end and marched
along as though we had every right to be there. No one told us we couldn’t.
We got to the Gun Garden and made ourselves comfortable,
and eighteen town criers loudly shouted the merits of their home towns. It was
strangely captivating… and all too soon we were breaking for lunch. My old mate
announced that there would be an hour and a half for lunch and to reconvene at
two o’clock when the public would be invited to have a go at making a cry.
We walked down to the quay where we had a portion of
sausage and chips each and shared much of it with the dogs. Perhaps I’m
hopelessly out of touch, but I paid over sixteen quid for two portions of
chips, two sausages and two tins of fizz. Am I wrong in thinking that is *far*
too much or am I just mean?
We returned to the Gun Garden where we met some Americans (from
Kentucky) who seemed very taken with the dogs, and then the second part of
the day started. I was the first member of the public to have a go at doing an
Oyez!
There was a nice lady with a noise-o-meter to see who was
the loudest… it wasn’t me.
And then all the criers had to make a loud cry about “peace”.
I sat down and just soaked up the ambiance. Eighteen loud announcements… some
were more serious than others. Three were in Flemish (there were four
international entries), and at quarter past three the last cry finished and
some chap came up with a melodeon and led the
crowd in singing sea shanties whilst the judges deliberated. The chap on the
melodeon had written a shanty especially for the day… it was a shame that he
forgot the words, but he kept going. He too was rather good; we had a very good
sing-song.
And then the winner was announced – the winner of this
year’s national town crier championship comes from Belgium… Personally my money
had been on the Beadle.
I’m going back next year… it was a rather good day out.
Nothing epic or spectacular, but hundreds of people watching town criers from
far and wide doing their town crying, having a go themselves, and having a
little sing-song. The dogs were as good as gold; Treacle in particular was
fascinated by the melodeon.
We came home and it wasn’t long before Chris, Steve and
Sarah came round for an evening of games on the Infinity Table. Game of Life,
Sorry Ticket to Ride… I came second to last in all the games, but it was a
really good evening. A very good end to a very good day.
I’m worn out with it all.
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