Don't we all just love a good country fare to evoke nostalgic feelings of happy childhood summers days? Pony rides, scones, fizzy pop, fair rides, face painting, sunburn, the beautiful sweet smell of hay and horses tack and Punch and Judy belly laughs.
As a parent it gets even better. Not only do you get to relive those memories but you get to relish in the enjoyment of seeing your little kiddiwinks experience it all. Plus, you discover a whole other side of the show - the adult entertainment. No I don’t mean of the risqué variety, but the local cider, microbrewed beers and gournmet farmers gastronomic delights. I have also entered into the official ‘boring old farts club’ by discovering an interest in the more traditional country crafts such as spinning and thatching which before would have made me adopt the “yeh right whatever” kind of attitude. I even went for a little lookie at the tweeds, no I didn't buy any, way to itchy for me, but I just wondered if I could mix it up abit with a couple of my vintage dresses and run a queenie type look!
But seriously is there anything more fun, I ask you? And with the backdrop of
Kim didn’t quite know what to make of the ferret racing (it’s an English thing), but was very proud of his achievement on the clay pigeon shoot after the guy told him he was way to good and had to shoot blindfolded! Maggie as always loved all things horsey and especially enjoyed the fun games put on by the pony clubs.
This was all very serious, which made me giggle. Though I have always thought of hunting as a cruel sport with the prolonged chase and savage kill of animals just doing what they do, I do however like some of the associated traditions and respect the skills of the master of the hound. Hypocritical maybe.
Oh and did I tell you? There was even a crooked house. Remember these? I was so excited about going in this when I saw it (you see you can do things like this again when you have a child). Actually it was disappointingly 'pikey' inside, but I tried to see it through kids eyes and looked past the gaffer tap holding the boxing bags together as I exaggerated my bash into them each time the wibbly woobly floor moved.
Face paints smudged, we returned to our barn properly tired, dirty and sticky from sugar and sweat. I just flipping love it I do. When I say returned home, it wasn’t quite as simple as just popping the key in the ignition and off we trot as I had left a ‘thingy’ on and flattened the car battery requiring the local scout group to push us around the flat field a couple of times to bump start the car! I felt abit like Benny Hill.