We’re British, you know

How do we know we’re British?

Because we love a queue.

This was proved beyond any shadow of a doubt last Sunday when I went to a very nie hristmas fair at a very nice hotel with my lovely friend.

As we walked in we were faced with the most enormous queue. Without question we joined it. There must have been a hundred people in this queue, all standing patiently. After a couple of minutes a couple walked in behind us and also wordlessly joined it.

It was at that point, being a veteran of many a wedding fair, I tonight, hang on a minute. I’ve never seen a fair of any kind attract this much attention. Not only that but this queue was heading in the wrong direction.  After staking my place in the queue I walked up to the front. “Excuse me, are you waiting to get tickets for the Christmas fair?” “No. We are waiting to check out of the hotel.”

Bugger me! A hundred people stood in a queue and at least a third of them were stood there because they hadn’t had the nous to ask a simple question. For goodness sake! I know we love a good queue but I love a good Christmas fair more.

We hotfooted out of the hotel queue and into the non-existent Christmas fair queue. Within seconds we were happily munching on mince pies and sipping mulled wine as we explored the myriad sparkly and shiny festive items on display. The best bit of all though was the vintage clothing stand staffed by an elderly lady who was as mad as a box of frogs.

She positively encouraged us to try on all the 1920’s hats and coats, draping jewellery over us as we admired ourselves in the mirror and imagined ourselves in a more elegant era. We must have spent half an hour there, laughing, trying on clothes and soaking up the atmosphere. It reinforced that we are really only big kids after all.

Once we had finished playing in the dressing up box we sauntered out to listen to the choir sing. It is the same choir that Lashes and I joined a few weeks ago. We weren’t invited to sing at this event as we are a new choir and don’t know all the songs yet. Ha! I knew enough to be merrily singing along, drawing a few looks from the bass singers we were stood next to as I warbled quietly away to the soprano parts.

All in all it was a great start to the festive season. Since then I have attended two wreath making workshop and  two parties and watched a bunch of people perform a Christmas story round the harbour. It was all very sweet.

I think Boofuls would rather have put pins in his eyes than listen to the folk songs and watch the dancers dancing to music from a fiddle as the storyteller cleverly unfolded the story for us.  Street performances don’t seem to be his thing. Bless him, he put up with it all to keep me happy.  We still have a carol service, a lantern making event and umpteen parties to attend this side of Christmas. I’m not sure will help my convalescence but it will surely make the time go a lot  faster.


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