Homage

                                            Homage

    

    … a warm velvet morning, over silver spun sand, the seashore in sight… 

                                                                                    

The lighthouse blinks a warm welcome and the foghorn booms out a salute as tall ship LaBonClaudine drifts around Blighters Rock.

 

Aloft, secured to the spars, newbie taler’s learning the abc of ropes and knots.

From the swaying deck the Able Bodied Crew of trustee’s call up kindly advice. 

 

The flag waving crowd cheer and whistle, klaxons sound, a circle of bell ringing Morris dancers hit each other with sticks and the Fishermen’s Friends sing… 

 

‘What shall we do with the drunken sailor’ 

 

Captain T Cook on the poop deck dances the Hornpipe.

In the crows nest, a parrot, squawks out…  

 

‘… Big Issue, Big Issue…Buy one now’ 

 

A Biplane swoops low, a wing walker in RAF attire, shouts out through a megaphone.   

 

’Ahoy there mateys’  ‘Keep some rum for me’

 

Coloured cards float down like confetti to outstretched hands.

 

‘Meet up later at the Café Corto’   A wag of the wings, loops the loop and away.

 

Frothing bubbles and seaweed submarine Swansea surfaces, in the conning tower, cap askew, helmsman JoDo hails the crowd. 

 

‘My books are all  waterlogged’      ‘Can someone help me dry them out?’

‘I will !’  Shouts a young lad.

‘The name’s Tate,  Oliver Tate’   ‘I’ve never been in a submarine before’

 

Walrus gently nudges a Pea-Green boat up onto the sand.

On board an Owl who couldn’t care two hoots and a Pussycat contentedly purrs.

With feathers and fur covered in honey, stuck to each other  unable to steer the boat.   Smiling sweetly at each other they said.

 

“What a sweet mess we are in, what a sweet mess we are in”  

 

Starfish Girl chats to school children ankle deep in the rock pool.

 

‘Lift the stones gently and tell me what you can see”

‘Look’ calls one’  ‘A tiny crab’ 

 

Try Tie Dye with Di.     ‘Everything we use today can be found on the beach’  

‘For example’  ‘Bladderwrack, seawater and using a small hammer break stones into tiny pieces ready for grinding into a paste.’

‘Do not, whatever you do…hit the stone…hard…’

 

 In a yellow marquee,  Highhat  presents  Scandi treats,  Danish Lenau Blue on Rye, lemon parsley, Gravadlax with soda bread and horseradish cream.

Marandina  Meringues wobble on a silver platter, alongside Tapas, Greek salads and other delightful nibbles.

 

Airyfairy  and Lenchenelf  prepare a brew for writers block sprinkle mixed verbs into a large pot, a selection of adjectives added plus vowels, two bags of assorted alphabet letters and double ABC’s for extra bite.  

‘We’ll let that simmer awhile, throw in some prose, free verse, perhaps some Greek then drain through the Thesaurus sieve.

 

Young Julian is learning the butcher trade ignores dad’s advice, winks and smiles to a gaggle of giggling girls passing by.

 

‘Tone the patter down son!  ‘No rude, no crude, no innuendo today, okay!

 

Hiding behind a tree, a small dog with large paws eyes up the sausages.

 

At the Pagano kiosk, a gleaming Carpigiani  oozes waves and swirls of mouth watering  gelato. 

It’s impossible to stroll by and ignore, the thought of… ‘I’ll have a cone later is dismissed.

‘A double scoop of strawberry please and a…’

  

Inside the Red Yurt the quiz master calls out.    

‘The last three questions before lunch’   ‘Are’!

1         ‘Who wrote   “ A series of horses decreasing in size” ?

2         ‘Name the author who will be reading at Walthamstow Trade Hall on  24th July?

3          ‘Now’  ‘This one is going back a few years’  ‘So, have a little think’  ‘ Ready ?

            ‘In the ABC tales Magazine Issue # 23.    ‘Who wrote’  “ Lost Glass”

 

Under the Fox Shade, a circle of taler’s prompted by the Inspiration Point for the Poetry Pentathlon relax as the results come in. Gold, Silver and Bronze medals to be won.                          

 

Musicians fine tune strings, violins scrape, guitars twang, zithers clear and transparent, mandolins and sitars wait for attention.

In the cathedral, Rhiannon conducts  a Welsh male voice choir as they sing Abide with Me.  

For the Sunday worship, multi-denominational congregation, the choir and a colliery brass band will attend.

 

Straight from the RIJKS, Maggy Van Eijk wearing an orange pancake Tutu dismounts from her bike.

Lacing up skates, pirouettes and glides to “Verdi’s Nabuco” over ice kindly provided by Pagano’s.  

 

‘Don’t forget it’s gelato’ ‘A few spins around the rink is all you’ll get before it melts’ 

 

Outside the Cabin Inn, Donnell O’Donnell frae Donnell Bank clad in vest and kilt practises a new routine, cascades and kick-ups with five Indian clubs.

Attempting a high throw, a club hits his head, kilt at ankles, clutches his scrotum.   

‘It’s only ma sporran’ 

‘Oh no it isn’t!   

‘Oh yes it is!

With a sweeping theatrical flourish bows down low, exposing a midge bitten bum to loud applause.

    

In the First Aid tent. Bee attends to a sword swallower holds his throat and a fire eater licking blistered lips.

‘Two spoonfuls of my honey should ease your sore throat, a lipstick balm for you’

A honey compress is applied to the stilt walkers knee.

‘Take your stilts over to the Repair Shop on The Road’  ‘Oh…mention I need a hive fixing ! 

She says and buzzes away to help others.

 

Onemorething  announces a change of venue   ‘The Travel Tent has been moved up to the top meadow.!     

‘Turlough is up first’ ‘  Reading a selection from the Chronicles of Bulgaria’

 

In a dirty flat down a side street J Hypen and pet python Barry scrub a kitchen floor awash with a toxic cleaning fluid from a dubious source. 

Choking on fumes Barry breaks wind, gas not listed on the periodic table floats up filling the room.

Dubious vapour, Barryarse gas mix, ignition occurs setting scales alight he rapidly exits via the cat flap.

 

Spreadeagled on the sand,  snoring Sooz  mumbles  ‘Mmm, that’s  nice’  as Barry zig zags over her 006.

 

Elsewhere, clarinet and saxophone pass the test, reeds replaced, harmoniums checked for leaks, sound checks splutters static, techie swaps over plugs, a thumbs up from mic man, all is well for day one.

As a warm velvet night draws in, another question from the Red Yurt.

 

Who wrote  "...In the Day..."  ?

 

A smiling Hudson Moon joins in.